#and now i feel like i am catching up on some things such as with Morrowind or the pre-bethesda Fallout games

[bunnwich]

Same anon about the Leona bf Hcs....I'm also curious, do you have any ICKS when it comes to how people portray Leona romantically? plspls, I wanna get controversial.

My Leona Boyfriend HC Icks

(This is subjective, but you asked! Idk why I wanted to answer this ask before your other one… I guess I felt some type of way. It's a bit more ranty/bitchy so be forewarned. I’ve been in the fandom since the ENG release, so I've seen a lot of stuff that personally icks me. Dw I’ll get to your other ask!!)

Btw, I know some ppl won't like some of these opinions, but it's just my personal preferences at the end of the day! Friendly reminder: I am not the authority on Leona Kingscholar nor do I claim to be!!!

STINKY (But not metaphorically)

Why? He is an athlete and a prince? All the athletes I know bathe MORE than other ppl bc they get sweaty.  Besides…we all have bad hygiene when we aren't doing well mentally? So, this HC at best is just gross, and at WORST is offensive.  Also, just a question for ppl who do STILL this: Why would you WANT him to stink??? I never understood this mindset, even if he WAS that lazy. I simply wouldn’t wanna HC that he stinks. I love myself. GFBHNJM (Idia seems to get this stinky boy treatment too WHYY??? Sorry, I choose to believe my man smells good.)

HERBIVORE. (The H-Word)

I think where people lose me fast in Leona fics is hitting me over the head with the word “herbivore.” Honestly…he doesn't use the word as much as people think?? And I don’t think he would call his S/O at all. I find it mean? Because of the Japanese context of this word, and just the literal meaning. I think of it as more akin to the word “whimp” or “weakling.” It's not…cute to me? He doesn’t even use it for the MC later in the game as much. So, unless you're a lion beastman or fellow carnivore, I’d expect prey nicknames. Kitten, mouse, bird, bunny, etc. He even likens the MC to a “kitten” in a few voicelines. Just makes more sense to me, idk. Think of the silly nicknames he has for the canon cast. That or you know…he’d just use your name.

BRUTE BOYFRIEND

He's rude, sure. But no…Leona is NOT beating anyone up for looking/flirting with you. Would he be annoyed, maybe even secretly furious? Sure. But, he's not a “brute strength" kinda guy who uses his fists. (It’s almost like it's his main battle line!) If someone truly hurt you or did something off-color, he’d probably send someone else to do the dirty work to intimidate or deal with them.  In a real fight, OFC he'd defend you, but fighting cause some guy winked at you? NO. I don’t personally believe so. He’s a grown man with high intelligence, so I think high school like beef would be a bit beneath him?? At least he'd have one of his goons go do it.

ALOOF BOYFRIEND

I think where a lot of ppl lose me is the “aloof/stoic” bf thing.  No doubt he would keep his distance at the first instance of catching feelings because he doesn't wanna be hurt. At first, he’s only batting at you to gauge how you feel for him. But if he becomes seriously interested, and then you begin dating, I just don’t believe he would care what other people think. Or try to downplay your relationship. He’d wait for you to make the first real move, sure…but YOU’D KNOW. I just think about how he acted toward Sally in the last Halloween event and how he was almost “uncharacteristically” sweet to her. I think because Leona isn't super close to anyone in NRC—beyond a few of his frosh or respect-based relationships (like he has with Vil), we don’t see this side of him often, and so it comes as a shock.  Without spoiling anything, let’s just say…he was VERY unbothered at everyone's reaction to his soft side. He was focused on Sally and being nice to her. And if we apply this to “bf status Leona,” I think he’d be too focused on YOU to worry about what other ppl think of him. I’ve been preaching for years that this part of him always existed, and that now he just chooses who sees it. He saves his softness for very specific people he deems worthy of his time. Period. You’ll have to play a bit of a game to get on his good side, but like the motto of Savanaclaw: PERSISTENTLY proving to Leona that you care for him despite his flaws, he’ll come around. And when you're together, well- (I'll save that for the other ask) Especially if you are in an established relationship. He clearly thinks the world of you. He doesn’t have many close relationships, so you think he’s wasting his time with someone he wouldn’t even bother to be nice to??? Besides, Leona later in the main story becomes quite self-aware of his inability to reach out to others, despite craving affection desperately. He knows it's his blind spot, SO he's putting effort into being a good bf to you!

HE'S 20 (45)

To further my above point, I think people forget he is a few years older than even the other 3 years, and…was raised by an old man? I think when ppl write him with low emotional maturity...it loses me. I get it, he's a brat. And often he CHOOSES to act like a petulant prince when it suits him. But, I think deep down esp in more serious situations, we’ve seen that he's wise, calm, and level-headed. Just some nuance, please.

“USING YOU AS A PILLOW”

Napping/cuddling together is no doubt one of the nicest things you can do with a partner. And I’ve even implemented this kinda thing in my writing. HOWEVER, there is a certain flavor of this I dislike. Esp when it’s “forced” on the reader/OC. Sometimes I find this is ALL ppl write about him in those HC posts, esp ones that aren’t Leona focused. That or “Leona dragging you off to be his pillow.”  (A bit of my life is taken every time I read this sentence now…) I know there are new folks coming into the fandom who may repeat old tropes, and that's fine! But, I STILL see this from people who have been here for yearssssssss. It's just cliche to me. I do believe he's a cuddly guy, EXTREMELY SO. It's just that specific phrase that icks me. Maybe it’s the implication that he does it against your will and is aggressive about it?? Just, no thanks.

"I CAN FIX HIM”

Okay maybe now we’re getting into the more controversial ones?? I think the idea of “tru wuv” fixing someone’s flaws is just unappealing as a concept to me and completely against what I think love is about. The “dragging him to class”, “making him dress up more,” or “forcing him to get along with his family” is not something I think he’d put up with. He’s grown, he's extremely stubborn, he knows he’s failing school. He doesn't need another person to nag him! Ruggie already does that! Plus, family relations are complicated. Idk…if someone I started dating tried to get me to talk with a family member who I felt genuinely hurt/neglected me, I’d be annoyed af??   I think he would find it all patronizing coming from a romantic partner. It's one thing if he chooses to be better himself or for his mental health to improve gradually, but forcing things on him and “nagging” him constantly about his behavior at school and at home is just what his family does so- He's flawed, VERY MUCH SO. But, I think when it comes to relationships…everyone has flaws they deal with easier in a partner than others. Like you can maybe deal better with someone being socially awkward, but can't stand your S/O having a messy room. Like if your “hard nos” are lazy people, your S/O dressing “sloppy,” or someone who can be petty and rude to others- Well, you get my point.  It's like....if you hate playing video games and wanna ship with Idia. My question is why?? I’m genuinely curious why you even like this character in the first place?? Hot take, (I guess) this is the reason I don't really ship LeoVil. It just rubs me the wrong way how it turns Leona into a “fix me” project thing. And not to mention how Vil talks to Leona canonically in a demeaning way. (I love you Vil, but you’re wrong.) Leona needs a kick in the ass for sure, all the twst boys do, but personally when a fic/ship leans too heavy on the dynamic of “I can fix/change him” it turns me off. As someone who's been in a long-term relationship… if your day-to-day lifestyles don’t align when living together…ya’ll are gonna be at each other's throats over the small stuff. That’s just how it works irl. And...I understand if everyone doesn't want to apply this logic to fictional ships.  I just personally am not fond of this dynamic. And with Leona being a beastman AND a POC, it often feels like a loaded trope to apply to him.

DISPOSABLE LION BOYFRIEND

Last one! (Maybe most controversial idk) I just think Leona is not good at being a romance rival, (assuming we're not talking about poly situation) despite him being competitive. While ofc I think it's possible for an MC or OC to have multiple crushes and things, I think Leona is someone who wouldn’t handle this well? Like, if Leona feels like he’s gotta compete for scraps of your attention, at a certain point...I'd think he’d just give up, or at least give you your space to come to him. He’s had to compete for attention his whole life, and I feel like he's too emotionally mature and ego-driven to put up with these kinds of games for too long? I DO think it's interesting to explore the dynamic of having multiple love interests!! I even do it for a lil drama! But…in gen I don’t prefer when it feels like Leona is just there to be the "the disposable love interest" considering all of his insecurities of being second. Honestly, in that case, I can see him giving an ultimatum? He's a grown man among...mostly teens, I PERSONALLY just can't see him being a love rival with a child. FGHJK

Anyways, I could go one. that's all I can think of for now!

AGAIN I WANNA STRESS THAT THESE ARE MY ICKS. And if you don’t agree or do any of these, that's okay! Everyone can play dolls how they choose, I’m not the HC or character police. ✌️✌️✌️

[itneverendshere]

is it cool if i hold your hand? - r.c

pairing: kelce's!sister x hockey!rafe warnings: none

You’re curled up on Rafe’s couch in one of his hoodies — it still smells like his cologne and the lingering remnants of post-practice sweat — when he says it.

“I wanna take you on a date.”

You glance over from where your legs are tangled over his lap, wondering if you heard him right.

“Huh?”

He nods, a little sheepish. “Pick you up, flowers, no sex.”

You laugh — disbelieving — and lean your head back on the couch. “What, and ruin the sacred tradition of you fucking me against any available surface?”

You say it teasingly, because it’s easier to joke than to admit how much your heart is sprinting inside your chest. How sometimes, even now, it’s hard to believe you two are dating, not just hooking up in the dark or sneaking around. 

You already told each other I love you. You sleep over now without pretending it’s accidental. He brushes your cheek when he thinks you’re asleep, and you’ve caught yourself wearing his clothes like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Rafe mumbles, hand dragging down his face, already regretting it. “Just, y’know... normal. A normal date.”

Your mouth opens. “You want... normal?”

It’s ridiculous. A little late, absolutely unnecessary and kind of perfect. You glance down at where your hand is resting over his heart.

“You wanna wine and dine me, Cameron?”

He shrugs, but there’s that twitch in the corner of his mouth. “Jus’wanna do this right.”

You sigh, mock dramatic. “So no sex?”

“Ideally no sex,” he amends, eyes flicking away from you to some invisible speck on the wall. “I don’t know. I want it, with you.” His voice dips, quieter. “Is that dumb?”

You sit up a little, hoodie sleeves falling over your hands, and you swear your ribcage is too small for your lungs now. 

“You don’t think we missed the window for normal?”

“What, because I’ve already ruined you for any other guy?”

Your cheeks burn, and he looks pleased with himself — that is the Rafe you know, the asshole who leaves bruises in the shape of his teeth in every corner of your body.

You fiddle with the strings of his hoodie. “You bringing flowers?”

This is what love looks like when it starts backwards and somehow still ends up exactly where it’s supposed to.

He nods. “Peonies. You like peonies.”

“You remember that?”

God, you are so fucking gone for this boy.

He scoffs. “’Course I remember. Who do you think I am? Your parents brought a bouquet of them to your kindergarten graduation. You were missing three teeth and you tripped going up the stairs.”

You let out a tiny gasp-laugh, eyes narrowing. “That was years ago.”

“Yeah, and you’ve had peonies at every graduation since,” he says, shrugging like it’s nothing, even though he’s carving your whole childhood open in front of you with perfect, awful clarity. “Middle school, high school...even that stupid driver's ed certificate you made them come to.”

“That was a big deal to me!” you protest.

He grins. “I know. You cried when they forgot the card that year.”

You want to say something witty or cool or even just coherent, but your throat feels like it’s full of bees, and your heart’s beating like it’s trying to crawl up into your mouth. Truth is, you feel like you're sixteen again, and he’s just brushed the hair out of your face at that party when you swore you hated him.

How dare he remember your kindergarten graduation flowers and keep that knowledge tucked away for years. He had been there, the day you got the stupid driver’s ed certificate, leaned over from the back seat, and handed you his card, a stupid, glittery thing your brother made him sign at the last minute.

You didn’t know he even noticed why you were upset.

His hand had hovered awkwardly over your back, not sure if he was supposed to touch you. You remember him sitting there with you, long after Kelce wandered off, until you stopped crying.

“Shut up,” you throw pillow at his head. He catches it easily, like the smug athlete he is, and sets it aside, hand settling back on your thigh.

He’s serious.

That look in his eyes, this is Rafe when he means something.

 “I love what we have. I love you. I just…we skipped all the sweet stuff that happen before I love you.”

You tilt your head, letting his words settle in your chest. He’s right — the two of you went from horny glances to heated nights, to hiding something from your brother to suddenly not hiding at all, falling in love before you ever held his hand in a restaurant.

You sort of skipped every cliché milestone, there was no first kiss under the stars, no awkward brush of hands.

“And you want the sweet stuff?”

He presses a kiss to your forehead. “I want everythin’ with you. Even the cheesy shit.”

“And the awkward first-date nerves?”

“I’ll fake them if you want.”

Your vision blurs a little at the edges. You blink fast, then, stupidly: “That’s the sappiest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

He grins against your hair, nose brushing your temple. “You haven’t seen anything yet, princess.”

You let out a little huff and he feels it — you know he does — because his arms tighten around you, pulling you closer until you're almost in his lap entirely.

Rafe can never stand even an inch of space between you.

You shift slightly, curling your fingers around the hem of his hoodie that you’re wearing — his hoodie — and then tug it up over your mouth so only your eyes peek out.

“You’re being really unfair right now,” you mumble, voice muffled.

“Unfair?” he echoes, amused.

You nod, hoodie pulled like a shield to your nose.

His laugh is sweet, chest shaking under your hand, then he dips his head, presses a kiss above your brow, then one on your cheekbone, then your jaw, feather-light. He kisses the corner of your mouth, just a peck, but it has you sighing against his lips, and you feel him smile as he kisses you again, this time properly. He’s so good at this, memorized every sigh you make, how you like to be kissed — every second of this is sweet torture.

When he pulls back, it’s only a breath away, lips brushing yours again when he murmurs, “Still unfair?”

You nod slowly, dazed. “So unfair.”

His thumb finds that spot behind your knee again, starts drawing circles there, knowing what it does to you. He’s made a study of you, his other hand sliding beneath the hem of his hoodie to rest warm and firm on your waist.

You narrow your eyes. “I thought you said no sex.”

“I did,” he says, all mock innocence, while his fingers splay out against your skin. “Doesn’t mean I can’t touch you a little. C’mere.”

You’re already there, in his lap, but he tugs anyway, pulling you to straddle him with practiced ease like he’s done it a thousand times — because he has. You swat at his chest, and he catches your wrist, kisses your knuckles like a sap. 

“You’re so—” you start, but it crumbles into a giggle. You’re smiling too hard. “There’s no way we’re making it through a full date without fucking.”

“Okay, yeah. Maybe not.”

“Maybe?”

“Absolutely not,” he breathes against your mouth, hands sliding up your back, pulling you in. “You in a dress, lettin’ me take you out, show you off, and then not letting me bend you over my truck after? ‘M not a saint, baby.”

You snort, and bury your face in his neck, speaking into the warm skin there. “So what’s the plan then? Where are you taking me?”

He leans back enough to meet your eyes, “It’s a surprise.”

You gasp, scandalized. “You’re not going to tell me?”

“That’s the point of a surprise, yes."

Your eyes narrow. “Rafe.”

“Nope.”

You make a wounded noise and collapse dramatically against him, face pressed to his chest. “I fucking hate surprises.”

“Nah, you don’t,” he murmurs into your hair, kissing the crown of your head. “You just hate not being in control.”

You lift your head, scowling playfully. “Okay, rude.”

“True though.”

You pout, bottom lip trembling and everything weaponized it in full force. “Tell me just one thing.”

He groans, it physically pains him to resist you. “Nope. I’m stone.”

“Rafe,” you roll your hips in his lap, and oh, there it is —his self-control shattering right behind his eyes.

“That’s cheating,” he mutters, jaw clenching.

You blink up at him, “I don’t know what you mean.”

“You’re evil.”

You hum. “Dinner?”

“No comment.”

“Outdoor? Indoor? Fancy?”

He shakes his head, stubborn. “You’ll find out.”

“Dress or jeans?”

“That feels like cheating.”

“Is there food, Rafe, for the love of God—”

He chuckles, head tilting back. “Dress. And yes, there’s food. I’m not a monster.”

You narrow your eyes again, finger poking into his chest like you’re scolding him.

“You better not fucking take me to a Waffle House parking lot and call it romantic.”

“That’s date three, actually,” he deadpans.

“Peonies and everything?”

He brushes your cheek, gentle and devastating. “Baby, I already ordered them.”

You nudge your nose against his. “Okay then. Take me out, Rafe Cameron.”

His eyes soften instantly. “Yeah?”

You nod. “Just don’t let me embarrass myself. If I’m overdressed and you take me to some hole-in-the-wall dive—”

“You’d still be the best-dressed person there,” he says, pulling you closer by the waist, pressing a kiss to your cheek like he’s inhaling you. “Always are.”

Your chest squeezes so tight it’s embarrassing — you’d follow him to that Waffle House parking lot if he asked sweet enough.

You don’t realize you’re leaning in until your noses bump and you breathe the same breath. You forget everything but the feeling of his hands on you and his tongue licking into your mouth and the way his thumbs are now teasing under the swell of your ass.

You pull back, eyes heavy-lidded. “Rafe.”

“Hm?”

“You’re breaking your own rule.”

“Am I?” he says, not bothering to pretend to sound guilty as he slides his hands lower, gripping you. “Doesn’t feel like you mind.”

You don’t.

But you also know if you let it go any further, the hoodie’s coming off, and then your underwear, and then you’ll be a puddle in his lap and you’ll never make it to that date.

“I’m serious,” you say, even though your voice is breathy and you’re clinging to his shoulders. “If you want a real date, you have to stop touching me like that.”

His brows raise, challenging. “Like what?”

“Like you’re gonna eat me alive.”

That grin — the one that makes your knees weak — spreads across his face like sin. 

His voice drops a full octave as he leans in to brush his lips along the line of your jaw. “Just kissing. I can kiss you without fucking you.”

“Doubtful,” Your breath hitches when he nips the skin below your ear. You turn your head to meet his mouth, but you don’t kiss him even when is eyes flicker down, then back up, hazy. “Thought you wanted the sweet stuff.”

Rafe hums against your cheek, “This is the sweet stuff.”

Four hours later, you're pacing in front of the mirror, still in shock that you’ve shaved your legs yet again for a boy —your accidental soulmate, the devil you fell in love. The peonies are already in a vase on your kitchen counter, because of course he was early, and of course he remembered to write a card, and of course the card said “for every graduation and then some” in handwriting you could recognize blindfolded.

He hadn’t come in, only handed you the flowers and kissed your cheek, before saying, “See you soon, pretty girl,” and leaving you with no contexto clue to where you were going.

So now you’re here, skin still buzzing from his touch, shimmery gloss already reapplied three times, heart beating as if this is your first time seeing him.

When your phone buzzes, it’s a text from him: I’m outside. No peeking. I’m serious.

You’re giggling lik a school girl before you even realize it, grabbing your purse and walking toward the door with the type of anticipation usually reserved for Christmas morning and championship games.

You open the door — and there he is.

Team hoodie swapped for a crisp black button-down, sleeves rolled to his elbows, hands in his pockets. His eyes sweep over you slowly, not with lust (well, not just lust), but awe.

“Wow.”

You raise an eyebrow, letting yourself be cocky. “I know.”

He steps forward, lets his hand find yours, palms carved with the intention of fitting together.

“I lied,” he says, walking you toward the truck. “There’s no date. I just wanted an excuse to see you in a dress.”

He opens the passenger door for you — something no one has ever done, not in real life — and you slide in, pretending you’re not swooning (the bar is in hell). Your hands curl into his jacket once your ass hits the seat, pulling and kissing him, smelling his cologne — spicy, familiar — and his mouth, which is now faintly sticky from your lip gloss.

He pulls back, blinking down at you with this glazed-over look.

“What is that?” he asks, mouth close to yours. “That cherry shit you always wear?”

“Yeah.”

Rafe licks his lips. “Yeah. Keep wearin’ that.”

You shove at his chest, flustered. “You’re so annoying.”

“I like it,,” he tosses over his shoulder as he jogs around the front of the car, pausing only to call back, “Adds a little extra something when I—”

“Rafe!”

He glances over with that crooked smile and murmurs, “Buckle up, baby.”

You’re warm all over, still dizzy from his mouth on yours. There’s something so stupidly sweet about how giddy you are just sitting beside him, thigh brushing thigh on every turn.

You steal a look at him —admire how his brows furrow when he concentrates on the road, one hand is loose on the Wheel, and the other draped casually on your thigh. You wonder if he knows you’re memorizing him in real time.

“Okay,” you say, hoping to sound casual even though your voice is still tinged with laughter, “Where are we going?”

“Nope,” he sings again, this time smirking at the road. “You’re just gonna have to sit there and look pretty.”

You roll your eyes, “You realize I’m gonna be annoying about this the whole ride, right?”

“Counting on it,” he mutters under his breath, and when you look over at him again, he's grinning.

The drive isn’t long, but the warm air, his fingers tracing patterns into your skin, the low playlist in the background make it feel like you’re stuck in time (in a good way).

Eventually, the truck rolls to a stop, tires crunching against gravel, Rafe cuts the engine and looks over at you.

“Don’t be mad.”

Your eyebrows lift, but he’s already hopping out, opening the door with a dramatic bow, hand extended. “M’lady.”

You take it, “If this is a Waffle House, I’m going to kill you.”

"It’s not...but it’s cheesy.”

You didn’t think he was serious earlier.

You squint at him. “How cheesy?”

“A little?” he defends himself, and when you step down. He walks backward ahead of you, tugging your hand with that boyish grin that always gets him forgiven before he even does anything wrong. 

Then you see it, tiny little overlook spot, tucked between trees, looking out over the water just as the sun starts dipping low. A blanket already set up, a cooler, fairy lights strung between two trees, flickering in the dusky light. There are a few takeout boxes from your favorite place, and — god help you — a portable speaker playing a quiet, familiar playlist you didn’t think he remembered.

“Oh,” you say, the breath catching in your throat, “Holy shit.”

He doesn’t say anything, only watches you take it in. And then, “Told you it was a surprise.”

Your eyes are hot again — damn him — and you turn to him slowly, blinking. “Rafe.”

You’re going to marry this boy. That’s the only conclusion you can come to. You’re going to marry him and it’ll be a disaster half the time and he’ll forget his keys and you’ll argue about who left the lights on, but it’ll be him. Always him.

“Tried to remember all the shit you’ve said over the years.’” He shrugs, bashful again. “I paid attention.”

You’re not sure what to do with the fact he remembered every throwaway daydream you whispered, probably half-asleep or mid-ramble, and turned it into this. You shake your head, helplessly in love, and walk straight into his arms, you were made to live there.

His arms wrap around you instantly, his mouth pressing into your temple. You press your hand to your chest as you pull away.

“This is so stupid disgustingly cute, Rafe.”

“I’m disgusted too,” he deadpans. “Could throw up.”

You laugh, letting him pull you the rest of the way, sitting on the blanket and letting him arrange everything. He’s got the little packets of kimchi you love, and he even remembered the sauce you always hoard two of. He hands you a can of sparkling water and bumps your knee.

You stare at him like he’s grown wings. “You… remembered the extra sauce?”

He looks offended you even have to ask.

“You licked the lid once, baby. That shit’s branded into my brain.”

You lean forward and kiss him again, because you can.

The food is good, but honestly, you barely taste it. You’re too focused on him, how looks at you, trying to memorize your mouth when you talk and the way your nose scrunches when you sip something too fizzy. The fairy lights reflect in his eyes, and you swear he’s never looked better.

Not the Rafe everyone else sees, yours.

“You okay?” he asks at one point, handing you a napkin with a smirk because you’ve already got rice stuck to your cheek.

“Better than good,” you say, dabbing your face. “You’re fully boyfriend-ing right now.”

“I’m a man of many talents,” he shrugs, leaning back on one arm, eyes dragging over your frame. “Some of them are respectable.”

“And the others?”

He leans in again, “Eating pussy.”

Your jaw drops a little, cheeks warming, as you glare half-heartedly and toss a balled-up napkin at him, not expecting the nasty comment.

You swear he’s waiting for you to get flustered, squirmy, maybe even a little breathless the way you always do when he gets like this, but two can play the game.

He catches the napkin, of course. “Reflexes of a god, too.”

Your fingers ghost over his knee before sliding higher —a tease, enough to make him inhale sharply.

“Was that a reflex or are you actively showing off?”

“Bit of both,” he admits shamelessly. “Kinda hoping you’d swoon.”

You lean back, batting your lashes, a dangerous little flirt. “Always soooo eager to impress me, captain.”

You watch him swallow, his eyes dropping to your mouth, your hand, your legs curled under you — before flicking back up.

Rafe raises an eyebrow, “Don’t flatter yourself.”

“Too late. Already planning your jersey number tattooed on my ass.”

He chokes on his drink, hand thumping his chest, coughing.

“Jesus.”

You tilt your head innocently, eyes sparkling. “What? You don’t want me branded like one of your hockey sticks?”

“You’re—You’re actually satan.”

You hum, smug.

“You say that like it’s not your favorite thing about me.”

He looks like he’s suffering— that forehead vein is starting to show, it pops whenever you say something a little too filthy and then go back to sipping your sparkling water like a saint.

“You keep talking like that and I’m gonna forget I'm tryin' to be a gentleman."

You laugh. “So what I’m hearing is... I’m winning.”

He shakes his head, scoffing, because it’s true. 

You go back to your food like nothing happened, twirling a piece of food onto your fork, eyes flicking up at him lazily.

“Are you gonna eat?”

“Y’know I’ve got a staring problem when it comes to you.”

You pretend to think. “I’ll let it slide.”

Rafe stabs into his food. “You make me sound like a fucking victorian widow seeing ankles for the first time.”

He reaches for a breadstick absently, then gets distracted because you’re licking sauce off your thumb. Very slowly.

“Baby.”

You glance over, brows raised, smug. “What? I’m just eating.”

He groans, “This is psychological warfare.”

You hum. “Wow. Big words for a jock.”

He’s speechless for a full five seconds, then props himself up on an elbow, shaking his head. You scrunch your nose at him, trying to hide the flustered tingles that shot down your spine.

His thumb moves and suddenly, he’s brushing the corner of your mouth.

“Got it.”

 “...You missed a spot.”

His head tilts. “Where?”

You grin tapping your lip. “Here.”

He leans in, and you think he’s gonna kiss you — but he hovers there, breath ghosting against your mouth, eyes half-lidded. You shove at his chest and he grabs your wrist, pulling it to his mouth, kissing the inside.

He doesn’t stop there.

Rafe kisses the inside of your wrist, then another kiss. And another, trailing up your forearm until your breath hitches and he’s smiling again.

“This what you meant earlier?” you manage, your voice is lower now, amost shy, which is stupid, because you’re not. 

He doesn’t answer right away, only moves forward, one hand finding your thigh, spreading over it, the other brushes a braid from your face. You shift onto your knees and he meets you halfway, hands curling under your thighs to drag you forward until you’re half in his lap and your fingers are in his hair.

His tongue brushes yours, and you swear the noise he lets out when your nails scrape the back of his neck is going to ruin you forever. He doesn’t even pretend to be bashful about it, he knows what he’s doing. 

Your lip gloss is already smearing when you gasp, his hand sliding under the hem of your dress with no warning, it's nothing filthy yet, but it has you arching into him instantly.

He moans, the feel of your skin being a reward to him. You feel his hand move up your leg, fingers splaying possessively against your bare skin.

“You’re so warm,” he mutters, pulling back to speak, “You’re drivin’ me insane.”

“Thought we were being good tonight,” you tease against his jaw, letting your teeth graze the skin there.

He growls. “We were. Like you said, doubtful.”

You grind against him again and giggle sweetly when his mouth drops open like he’s struggling to remember his own name. His hands wander again, dragging up the back of your thighs, under your dress, and his thumbs are brushing below where your underwear sits.

“Should’ve known we were nevere gonna make it through this date without fucking.”

He huffs a breathy laugh at your defeat, lips dragging along your cheek. He’s made his peace with his fate — which is you, under him, around him, making those breathy sounds only he gets from you.

He bites you enough to make you yelp, “Baby, I meant it. But you keep crawling into my lap wearing shit like this—”

“You said wear a dress,” you interrupt, dazed.

“Exactly,” he murmurs, kissing down your throat. “This is my problem. I did this.”

Your head tips back as his mouth travels lower, kissing your collarbone, then the edge of the neckline, trying to be good — and failing.

“You’re not helping your case,” You call him out, even as you rock your hips against him.

“Don’t want'a case. Only want you.”

[uarmygguk]

. . . . 'Cause people believe that they're gonna get away for the summer . . . .

𓇼 ˚𓆝 ⋆｡𓆟 ⋆｡𓆞˚ 𓇼

⎙ He was the still wave among the chaotic ripping tides— one that anchored youduring that unforgettable visit to your grandma's beach house— now on the verge of being sold.

Loaded with the responsibilities and emotions of spending the last week in Jeju, — will the new relationships and memories turn into something more, or will they just turn into bittersweet echoes of that one summer miles away from home.

𓇼 ˚𓆝 ⋆｡𓆟 ⋆｡𓆞˚ 𓇼

pairing, surfer!jungkook x f!reader tags/warnings, reader has had strict parents and this is her first time experiencing something alone— fully under her control, he is a surfer and owns a little shop for tourists who wants to explore the beach, a whole summer-beach house-fling kind of setting, fluff, smut, angst— the unavoidable trifecta, the characters do have some base-level lore too, longfic. note, this is the ultimate result of me listening to like a set of 4 songs ON REPEAT like it was a necessity, linking a playlist soon below, this is going to come out only on may but i couldn't wait to share a snippet of this scene i was working on literally at 2 am in the morning because i couldn't sleep. yeah call me productive.

love diaries music rec,

𓇼 ˚𓆝 ⋆｡𓆟 ⋆｡𓆞˚ 𓇼

teaser wc: 482

The waves ripple, gently caressing your bare feet, like a timid reminder about what you’re about to get yourself into on a random Saturday morning.

It does not feel all that haphazard though— seeing Jungkook knelt down in front, waxing the surfboard— the coconutty whiff of its scent soothes your senses for at least a moment before going full-on panic mode again.

“I don’t think today’s weather’s the best one for surfing, Matty you agree right?” you caress Matilda’s velvety muzzle as she barked in glee, jumping around the sand.

“She fully disagrees, c’mere” He looks up from the board, patting his upper thigh as you tilt your head in confusion.

“You need some feet gear, I’ll help.” He casually offers as if this happened on a daily— the way it rolled off his tongue so easily as he ran a hand behind his suit to dust it off of extra sand.

Nothing about this situation was routinely.

It was astounding how, in this very beach your grandma once adored so much, you were about to take leaps of faith and courage, experiencing completely new things way out of your comfort zone.

Jungkook crouches down, palms holding your bare feet now about to be clad in literal surfing gear, as he helps you into them with practiced ease.

“All set?” He comes up, a light smile spread across his face, taking a double look at your figure wrapped in the wetsuit rented from his own small beachside shop.

“Yeah, I’m literally about to set records— just me and my little surfboard.” Even the tiniest attempts to lighten the knot in your stomach and breath caught too hard in the middle of your throat, were in vain.

“Sure, set as many as you want, but I’ll deserve partial credit.” He catches a hold of your shoulder, maneuvering towards the board.

“What if I say you get full credit? Can I go back home? Matty might be hungry.” You fret in his arms, but he holds you still.

“Woah what happened to the bravery from minutes ago?” Jungkook’s hands come round your waist and all that you feel are the points of contact between your skin even through the thick material of the suits. He anchors you forth, steadying the surfboard under your feet.

“I’ve given you enough dryland training and you said you swim? You’re fine, __.” 

“But Matty-”

“She’s with Tae, I’m here with you. Let’s go?” Those words did calm you down more than you’d admit.

The humidity gets to your face quickly, gathering up a bright sheen on your skin.

No, you’re not sweating, obviously not.

It definitely has nothing to do with the vast expanse of waters laying free, welcoming you in with a warning. Fear. 

The initial inhibition was gnawing at your insides.

However, you feel his secure stance behind, and that was finally convincing enough for you to take the next step.

“I’m ready, Jungkook.”

[wosospacegirl]

i know we’re not together yet in the story but could we have a lil fic where r is jealous and viceversa (kika)👀

-> Y/n being jealous

Kika had been buzzing all week.

“You’ll love them,” she’d said, bouncing on the balls of her feet at the airport. “And they’ll love you.”

Y/n had tried to mirror her enthusiasm. Tried being the operative word.

And now they were at some cosy bar in Lisbon, warm lights and louder laughs and too many people who knew Kika before Y/n ever did. And they were all talking in Portuguese.

Fast Portuguese. Laughing over each other. Moving chairs. Clinking glasses.

Kika was sitting right in front of her while Y/n was sitting in the booth. She was feeling way too far from Kika.

But Y/n was trying. She was.

But she was also fuming.

Because some girl--blonde, freckled, smug--had her hand on Kika’s shoulder again. And now her other hand was trailing down Kika’s arm as she giggled about something Y/n didn’t catch.

Kika was smiling, laughing. Oblivious. Or maybe not oblivious, maybe just too polite to push her off.

Y/n’s eye twitched.

She sat stiffly, back ramrod straight, lips pressed into a line that looked a lot like if you touch her again, I’ll end you.

Her drink sat untouched in front of her. Her jaw clenched so tightly she was seconds away from shattering her molars.

Kika’s eyes darted across the table and met hers.

Then, kick.

Y/N jumped, glaring under the table.

Kika gave her an innocent look, then leaned closer, smiling through clenched teeth. “Can you please smile?”

“I am smiling,” Y/N said without moving a single muscle.

Kika’s brow lifted, skeptical. “You look like you’re about to murder someone.”

Y/N’s eyes flicked to Freckle Girl, who had now leaned into Kika’s space to whisper something in her ear.

Kika pulled back instinctively.

Y/n’s smile turned sharp.

“I’m fine,” she said, deadly calm.

Kika sighed, nudged her glass toward her. “Drink. Loosen up. I swear she’s just an old teammate.”

“Uh-huh,” Y/n muttered, eyes narrowed. “She seems really nostalgic.”

Kika bit her lip, holding back a laugh. “You’re jealous.”

Y/n turned to her fully, deadpan. “She touched your hair, Kika.”

“She was taking lint off—”

“I have eyes.”

Before Y/n could toss out another scathing comment, Kika stood.

Y/n blinked, watching her walk around the table. For a second, she thought Kika was going to grab another drink or say hi to someone else.

But no. Kika came right to her--and instead of sitting in her own seat, she slid smoothly into Y/n’s side of the booth, tucking herself against her like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Y/n froze.

Kika’s thigh pressed to hers, warm and solid. One arm draped behind her shoulders, the other resting lazily on Y/n’s leg.

“What—”

“Problem?” Kika asked sweetly, smiling up at her. “I missed you.”

Y/n swallowed. Loudly.

The freckled girl across the table looked mildly uncomfortable now.

Good.

Y/n cleared her throat and leaned back just enough to let Kika settle fully against her.

“You’re so annoying,” she muttered, but her hand found Kika’s anyway, threading their fingers together on her lap.

“Mm,” Kika hummed, squeezing gently. “That’s not what you’ll say tonight.”

Y/n flushed, yanked her hand away--only for Kika to laugh, snatch it right back, and kiss her cheek boldly.

Y/n didn't smile. Of course, she didn’t.

But when Kika looked at her again, her glare had softened into something a lot more dangerous. She could feel her heart thudding in her chest, tension building up behind her ribs.

Kika’s gaze turned thoughtful as she tilted her head, still soft, still playful. “You’re really mad, aren’t you?”

“I’m fine,” Y/n bit out, but her voice was sharp, even though she wasn’t entirely sure why.

Kika leaned into her side a little more, the motion as innocent as it was intimate.

Y/N crossed her arms, clearly refusing to look at her now, a pout making her lips curve downward. “She was too touchy.”

Kika’s lips twitched in amusement as she glanced at the other girl, sitting across from them. “She’s not even my type, baby.”

“I know what I saw.” Y/n’s voice was low, tinged with a note of possessiveness she couldn’t ignore. “And I don’t like it.”

Kika just sighed, giving Y/N a small, teasing smile. “You’re cute when you’re jealous.”

Y/N shot her a side-eye, but the softness in Kika’s eyes made her heart skip a beat. There was no pressure, no competition. Just Kika being… well, Kika.

“I’m not cute,” Y/n muttered, but the words were weak. Her arms unfolded, and she found herself subconsciously shifting closer to Kika, her shoulder lightly brushing against hers. “You don’t need to be so touchy with everyone, Kika.”

Kika’s eyes softened, and she gently lifted Y/n’s chin, pulling her focus back to her.

“I’ll always be close with you, amor,” she said quietly, her voice calm, “But I’m still me. I don’t need to change, okay?”

Y/N swallowed hard, her breath a little uneven as she finally met Kika’s eyes. She gave Y/n a smile

Y/N’s eyes softened--just for a second--before that familiar spark returned. Kika leaned in close, voice dropping to a low murmur only Kika could hear.

“No one else gets to have me. Only you.”

And with that, she pressed a playful kiss to Y/n's temple.

Then, after a long moment of just enjoying the quiet between them, Y/n shifted again.

She may have been territorial, but right here, in this quiet little space between them, she felt more at peace than she could remember.

-> Kika being jealous

They stepped through the front door in near‑silence--Y/N tugging off her cleats, Kika dropping her bag with a soft thud.

Normally, Kika would be chatting about drills or tomorrow’s lineup, but tonight… nothing.

Y/n glanced up as she peeled off her socks. “Hey--what’s wrong?”

Kika stared at the floor, arms crossed. “I’m not talking to you.”

Y/n frowned, balancing on one foot. “Okay… but can you tell me why?”

Kika’s jaw clenched. She raised her eyes just long enough to flash a glare and then looked away.

“Fine,” Y/n muttered, kicking her other sock off. “I’ll just… sit here.”

She settled on the couch, quiet but alert, waiting.

After a minute that stretched like elastic, Kika sighed. “I don’t want you to go to that place again.”

Y/N blinked. “That place?"

"Yes."

"What place, amor?"

"The training centre," Kika said, crossing her arms.

Y/n just blinked at her, completely confused.

"The training centre? The place we both train every day? Our literal workplace?"

Kika nodded, lips pressed together. “Clare.”

"Kika, are you unwell? My love, what are you saying?" Y/n asked exasperated.

“You know--Media Clare. She’s been hanging around the sidelines, asking you questions, laughing at all your jokes…” Kika’s voice was low, but with fury, or something very close to it. “She has a crush on you.”

Y/N stared at her, incredulous. “No, she doesn’t.”

Kika stood up, folding her arms tighter. “You don’t know how to read social clues. Trust me, she does.”

Y/N opened her mouth, then closed it.

They’d both heard the rumors: Clare, the shiny‑smiling sideline reporter, always finding an excuse to film Y/N’s sprints, lingered on her laugh.

Y/N had brushed it off as a professional interest.

But Kika… Kika saw everything.

Y/N sighed and stood, moving to crouch in front of her. Gently, she lifted Kika’s chin.

“Okay,” she said softly. “Tomorrow, I'll skip the sidelines. I’ll stay on the pitch. Happy?”

Kika’s shoulders relaxed fractionally. She gave a small nod--almost imperceptible.

Y/N leaned in and brushed a kiss against Kika’s lips. “No more pouting now."

Kika cracked the barest of smiles. “Okay.”

[theonottsbxtch]

I KNOW LOVE | CS55

an: i know love when it hits when it hits yeah i know lovvvvvvveeeee. i want to be in love im sick and tired of being single. anyway enjoy this situationship turned relationship.

wc: 2.6k

summary: a university student and a carlos sainz fall into a no-strings-attached situationship that slowly, quietly turns into something real. between teasing banter, soft confessions, and tender moments, they navigate the blurred lines of love and timing. what begins as casual ends in a kiss on the graduation steps, proving that love doesn't always come loud. sometimes it arrives exactly when you're ready.

SHE HADN’T MEANT TO MEET ANYONE THAT NIGHT.

It was meant to be one of those throwaway evenings. Cheap drinks, too-loud music, and her best friends dragging her onto sticky dancefloors under pulsing neon lights. A Friday night reset before deadlines started piling up again. But then there he was.

Carlos.

All dark eyes and an easy smile, pressed against the bar like he wasn’t used to standing still for long. He looked vaguely familiar, like someone she’d scrolled past on Instagram once or twice, but she hadn’t connected the dots until later. After he’d offered her his jacket outside, after he’d walked her to her Uber and kissed her like he already knew what she tasted like.

That was six months ago.

They didn’t call it anything. No labels, no promises. He was a Formula One driver. 

A fucking Formula One driver.

Always bouncing between cities and time zones, giving her just enough to keep her coming back. And she was a full-time student, juggling seminars, flatmates, and a dissertation she barely understood. Still, between the chaos, they found time for stolen moments. Late-night calls, blurry selfies, hotel rooms that smelled like his cologne, and whispered words that felt dangerously close to confessions.

Now, she was sat in his Grove flat, legs draped over his lap, one of his race team hoodies drowning her frame. He was flipping through some post-race briefing on his iPad, lips moving as he read, brow furrowed. His accent was thick, words rolling off his tongue like slow honey, and every now and then he’d look up at her like she was the only thing in the room worth watching.

She wasn’t sure when it had changed. When casual had turned into something that lingered in the silence. When kisses stopped feeling like a game and started to taste like maybe.

Maybe she was already his. Maybe he was already hers.

“¿Qué?” he murmured, catching her watching him. “You look at me like that, I forget all my words.”

She smiled, heart tripping over itself.

“You should really learn to focus, Carlos.”

He leaned in, eyes dark and slow-burning, voice a low drawl. “Hard when you’re here.”

Carlos tossed the iPad onto the sofa with a sigh, stretching his arms behind his head like he hadn’t just stolen every ounce of her attention.

“You read that or just stared at the screen pretending to be clever?” she teased, nudging his knee with her toes.

He looked at her, deadpan. “I am clever. Just... very distracted.”

“Oh yeah? By what?”

He leaned closer, like he was going to whisper a secret, but all he said was, “You.”

She rolled her eyes, biting back a grin. “Smooth.”

“I am smooth.” His accent thickened around the vowels, “You say this like it’s not true. You know what they call me on track.”

“You flirt like it’s your job.”

He tilted his head, mock serious. “It’s not my job. I drive cars very fast. But this?” He gestured between them. “This, I do it for free.”

She laughed, curling her legs back under her. Carlos had a way of making her laugh without trying too hard. He didn’t come off like the typical athlete, didn’t need to peacock or throw stats in her face. He was easy, in a way that made him dangerous.

“Do you always flirt this much with girls you’re not dating?”

His mouth curved slightly. “We are not dating?”

Her breath caught. That was the thing with Carlos. Hhe could say something like that, loaded with implication, but his eyes would stay soft, almost shy, like he was trying it out on his tongue.

“I mean, we said no labels.”

He gave a little shrug, like labels were just stickers on a helmet. “Sometimes I think about... putting one on. Maybe. When you are not looking.”

She swatted his arm. “Cheeky.”

“You like it.”

She did. God, she really did.

Sometimes he brought her flowers, nothing fancy, usually from some street market in whatever city he’d landed in, always slightly crumpled from the travel, wrapped in paper that smelt like espresso and jet fuel. Once, he turned up outside her lecture hall in a hoodie and cap, waiting in a beat-up rental car, blasting music from the speakers. Another time, he’d cooked her dinner in his Monaco apartment, not well, but with so much heart it tasted like comfort anyway.

She learned early on that he liked to touch. Always brushing his fingers over her knuckles when she talked, or resting his palm against her thigh when he laughed. Acts of service came next, unasked for, casual, like carrying her shopping up three flights of stairs without blinking, or fixing the wobbly chair in her flat without mentioning it.

And when she was overwhelmed with uni stress and hadn’t replied to him all day, he’d sent a voice note. Just his voice, soft and sleepy and a little accented.

“Don’t worry, cariño. I wait. Always.”

She hadn’t even told him she liked being called that.

Now, she watched as he fumbled with the zip on her hoodie — his hoodie — and made a face like the whole thing was conspiring against him.

“Why do your zips always jam?” he grumbled.

“Because you insist on owning overpriced team merch that’s all show and no substance.”

“Hey,” he protested. “This is quality.”

She raised an eyebrow. “You sure about that?”

He narrowed his eyes at her, then lunged suddenly, pulling her into his lap with a laugh. “Okay, no more insults. You stay here, and be quiet. It's better that way.”

She wriggled, pretending to fight him off. “So bossy!”

“Mmm,” he murmured against her hair. “Only with you.”

They settled, eventually, in a tangle of limbs and easy silence. The telly played quietly in the background, but neither of them paid attention. Her fingers traced the soft fabric of his sleeve, his heartbeat a steady rhythm beneath her cheek.

“Hey, Carlos?”

“Hmm?”

“If we keep doing... this,” she said, voice low, “are we ever going to talk about what it is?”

He didn’t answer right away. Just kissed the top of her head, slow and careful, like the question mattered more than anything else in the world.

“Maybe. But not tonight.”

And somehow, she was okay with that.

Because love. Real love didn't always arrive with fireworks. Sometimes it came like this.

Quiet. Familiar. And already here.

It was raining the next morning.

Not dramatic, cinematic rain, just that persistent England drizzle that made everything feel grey around the edges. The kind that clung to windows and turned pavements slick. She stirred awake to the smell of coffee and the faint hum of music from the kitchen, something mellow and Spanish that drifted through the flat like a memory.

Carlos had a habit of waking up before her. Not in a restless way, more like he just didn’t need much sleep. He always said racing taught him how to switch off and back on again like a light. Still, she never got used to finding the other side of the bed empty.

Pulling on a pair of his joggers, she padded barefoot into the kitchen. He stood by the stove, shirtless, hair messy, humming along to the song as he stirred something in a pan.

“You’re cooking?” she said, rubbing her eyes.

He turned, grinning. “Trying. No promises.”

“What is it?”

“Something my mama makes. Very simple. You’ll like it.”

She leaned against the counter, watching him move. The way he added things with a sort of confidence that didn’t entirely match the slight panic in his eyes. He was like that with everything, really. Confident, until he wasn’t. Charming, until it got too real.

He set two plates down and slid one in front of her with a flourish.

“Taste. And be kind.”

She took a bite. It was warm, garlicky, a little too salty. But perfect in a way that had nothing to do with flavour.

“It’s good,” she said softly.

He beamed, relief flickering across his face. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. You’ve won me over with your terrible attempt at Spanish comfort food.”

“Terrible?” he gasped, placing a hand on his chest like she’d wounded him. “You wound me, mi vida.”

She laughed, shaking her head. “You just love being dramatic.”

“You just love me.”

The words slipped out so casually, so easily, that for a moment she didn’t react. He was already reaching for the kettle like he hadn’t just cracked open something fragile between them.

Her breath caught.

“You said—”

“I know,” he said, not looking at her. “Was a joke.”

It wasn’t. She knew it. He knew she knew.

“Carlos.”

He finally looked at her. The humour was gone from his face, replaced by something quieter. Something that felt a lot like fear.

“I think about it sometimes,” he said, his voice lower now. “Saying it. For real. But I don’t want to scare you.”

She stared at him, heart thudding in her chest. Not because she was afraid, but because she wasn’t.

“I’m not scared.”

He smiled, small and unsure. “I am.”

She reached for his hand across the counter, fingers threading through his. His palm was warm, slightly calloused, trembling just the tiniest bit.

“Carlos,” she whispered. “Say it.”

He hesitated, eyes scanning her face like he was still trying to decide if this was safe. And then, just barely audible over the rain against the windows, he said it again, softer, and this time, real.

“I love you.”

No fireworks. No music swelling in the background. Just those three words, fragile and naked and hanging in the air between them.

He looked at her, dark eyes open and honest in a way that made her chest ache. “You don’t have to say it,” he murmured.

“I want to,” she said quietly.

He stilled.

“I love the way you always try to cook for me, even though you never measure anything properly,” she began, a soft smile playing on her lips. “I love the way you switch to Spanish without realising when you're tired. The way you fiddle with your necklace when you’re nervous. I love that you let me steal your hoodies even though you pretend to complain.”

His eyes softened, like each word was settling somewhere deep inside him.

“I love how you always remember to ask about my deadlines even when you’ve just come back from a race halfway across the world. I love the way you look at me like I’m the only person in the room. And I love—” she paused, voice barely a breath now, “—I love you, Carlos.”

His jaw tightened slightly, like he was trying not to fall apart. “Joder,” he whispered, standing up and pulling her into his arms, burying his face in her neck. “You say these things and now I don’t know what to do with myself.”

She laughed, muffled against his skin. “You don’t have to do anything.”

But he pulled back just enough to see her face. “No, no, I want to. I love... how you talk back to me, even when I’m trying to be charming. I love how you look in the morning when your hair’s a mess and you’re still half-asleep and grumpy. I love how you look at me like I’m not just the racing guy.”

“You’re not,” she whispered. “Not to me.”

“I love that you make me slow down,” he said, brushing a hand down her cheek. “You make everything quiet. Even the noise in my head.”

She didn’t give him time to say more. She just kissed him, not the kind of kiss that tried to prove anything, but the kind that simply was. The kind that told him she was staying. The kind that said, we’re in this now.

When they finally pulled apart, he was smiling, a real one, soft and boyish and slightly dazed.

“I can’t wait to show you off,” he said, thumb brushing her lower lip. “You have no idea.”

She raised a brow, amused. “Absolutely not.”

“What?” He looked offended.

“No paddock,” she said, wagging a finger at him. “Not until I graduate.”

He groaned, loud and dramatic, flopping backwards onto the nearest chair like she’d just cancelled Christmas, leaving his plate of food to go cold.

“You are cruel. Cruel,” he mumbled, arm flung over his eyes. “Do you know how long that is?”

“Five months.”

“Five months?!” He peeked at her. “That is forever. I’ll be grey.”

“You’ll survive,” she said, perching on his lap and poking his side.

“I’ll wither without you next to the garage.”

“Carlos,” she said dryly, “you’re literally on telly every other Sunday. You’ll manage.”

He sighed deeply, then wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her in so their foreheads touched again.

“Fine,” he said, voice quieter now. “But the second you toss that cap in the air at graduation... I’m making you mine in front of everyone.”

Her heart gave the softest thump.

“You already have me.”

And he did.

He didn’t care about all the phones capturing the moment, or the look of shock on her classmates’ faces as he kissed her senseless on the steps of the graduation hall.

She’d barely turned around after tossing her cap when he found her, grinning, breathless, and already tearing across the crowd like the rest of the world didn’t exist.

“Carlos—what are you—?”

“I told you,” he murmured, already wrapping his arms around her waist, lifting her clean off the ground. “No more waiting.”

And then he kissed her. Right there, in front of her entire class. In front of her professors, her friends, even her mum, who pretended to be scandalised but later whispered that she always had a soft spot for Spanish men with good teeth and bad timing.

It was ridiculous. It was loud. It was absolutely perfect.

After that, everything changed. Not all at once, more like dominoes falling gently, one by one.

She started travelling with him between her freelance work and post-grad plans. Not every race, just the ones that fit. Enough that his team started saving her a spare pass without asking. She kept her boundaries, her life. But somehow, they found a way to overlap without losing themselves.

He still brought her flowers from dodgy airport shops. Still sent voice notes when they were apart, his voice sleep-rough and full of words that didn't always come out in the right order, but always landed in exactly the right place.

He’d whisper “te quiero” into her hair when he thought she was asleep. She wasn’t. Not once.

They argued, sometimes, usually about stupid things, like how she always left wet towels on the floor, or how he kept eating her snacks and then replacing them with “better ones” from some Spanish brand she didn’t even like. But they always found their way back.

They became a thing, not in the public, polished way people expected, but in the quiet, private corners of the world they carved out for themselves. Late nights watching old race footage. Slow mornings tangled up in hotel sheets. Sundays when he wasn’t in the points and she said the right things without pretending to understand every detail.

She loved him for who he was, not what he did. And he adored her for all the things she didn’t realise she gave him.

The calm. The truth. The place to land.

And when they fell asleep, limbs tangled, voices low and sleepy and full of I love you’s in whichever language felt right there was no need to call it anything but theirs.

the end.

taglist: @lilorose25 @curseofhecate @number-0-iz @dozyisdead @ihtscuddlesbeeetchx3 @n0vazsq @dying-inside-but-its-classy @carlossainzapologist @hzstry8 @oikarma @amyelevenn @obxstiles

[yunazxxx]

am i making you feel sick? — daniela avanzini

you grew up with the saying "don't talk to strangers, you might fall in love." and you really never understood it, you were from a small town, everyone knew everyone, so you never cared for it. until a new family moved in, and you met their daughter.

now playing : stangers by ethel cain <3

(📓) cannibal!daniela, victim!reader, cannibalistic love, possession, quickly falling in love, reader admires daniela a lot, kind of stockholm syndrome?, kind of old timey country mention, small abuse mention, reader has a overprotective mom, daniela slits reader's wrist at some point, blood mention, cannibalism, cutting/ dismemberment, gorey details, reader goes missing, small kidnapping mention, daniela goes to jail, drug usage mention, heavy etc mention.

(💚) based off a few songs from the preacher’s daughter album by ethel cain. — and since it has to be said for legal reasons NOTHING in this fic is factual. daniela is not actually a cannibal nor would she hurt someone to the point of where this FICTIONAL STORY mentions. daniela is actually a sweet girl so please i beg all of you who reads this to NOT blow this out of proportion. this was for pure fun and what came to mind. i love daniela and all the girls of katseye so dont think this is something to throw shots at them or her. — and again, if you dont like whats mentioned here or cant handle it, i do always have multiple other fics on my page that might fancy you. - as stated again, NOTHING in this story is true. this is PURE fiction.

(wc) 3k— prev katz works

—

you opened your eyes in this dark room. it felt cold, and oddly wet? the floor was kinda covered in something, you slowly inched your way around, trying to find some type of light switch but every love hurt your body so much.

you were in excruciating pain, you tried your best to stay quiet though, search for a light and one came on, it was insanely dim but it worked.

that liquid you felt just a while ago, was blood. your heart sank for a minute, looking around and taking this area in.

you were going to try to find something to help you stand but you heard a door open.

“oh you’re awake” — you heard the voice say, you looked up and saw those same hazel eyes staring back at you, the ones of your lover.

.

.

.

.

.

being from a small town, it’s expected that everyone knows everyone and every place in that area. — so it was really no surprise that everyone was shocked, especially you when you looked across the street one morning and saw a new family moving in.

you hurriedly went downstairs, asking your mother if you could go over and welcome the new family but you thought about it because ever since you were young your mother always said “stranger danger” and whatnot, but again small town. — in your mind, that would be more of a big or main city thing than anything else, right?

she agreed actually, and let you go over there. while walking outside you spotted a blonde woman carrying some boxes inside when she turned around and stopped when she saw you, it was pretty bright out so she kind of had to squint to make out your figure.

“hi” she said, a soft smile coming from her, which made your heart almost jump out of your chest, “hey, welcome to the neighborhood” you said — you two were talking for a while before you heard her father call out her name, “daniela! bring your stuff in so we can start unpacking” and she excused herself to go in, “i’ll catch you later?” she said and you smiled, “yeah, that’d be nice”

while walking back home all you could think about was her eyes, they reminded you of something you’ve seen before but you couldn’t get it. — you could never put your finger on what exactly they reminded you of.

later that day, when the sun was down a knock came at your front door. you went downstairs to get it, only to see the same blonde woman from before, “hi!” you said, and she just smiled at you.

you walked out on your porch to talk to her, and you two got to know each other more, “do you think i could get your number?” she asked, and you willingly gave it to her. — but again, you continued looking into her eyes, so you just had to ask, “is that your natural eye color?” and she nodded, “yeah, it actually is”

you two again, continued to talk, and daniela began to show and explain her jewelry, but she wasn’t really going into much detail with a lot of things, because well, the last thing on her was actually explaining them to you.

it’s not like she didn’t want to, she just felt a way towards you, one she really never felt before — you felt it too. but it had only been a day, you both weren’t going to just throw that out there.

the next few months felt like a flash, you two were going almost everywhere with each other. from her family trips, to your mother’s family reunion, to spontaneous parties with her friends, just everywhere you can think.

your mother knew you loved her, she could see it in your eyes but something about daniela worried her. a random sunday came around and you told your mother that you'd be leaving with daniela to some other place, and move in with her. what made this so odd was the fact it was sent via text.

you were an adult so it's not like she'd tell you no, but it wasn't safe. you barely knew her, and that text didn't sound like you at all. your mother tried her best not to overthink it, but only if she knew what was to come.

daniela had taken you out the night prior, to some kind of acidic raid party, honestly you didn't even remember half of the night. she had given you something, lying saying it was some kind of candy, but it wasn't any kind of candy. it had a bitter aftertaste, daniela stayed next to you watching as you slowly got loopy and began acting funny.

the bartender asked if you were alright, it made him worry seeing you like that, honestly he thought you were a minor who had a fake id and he was wondering if he should begin giving you water instead but daniela took her with you, mouthing "she'll be fine, it's just her first time here" and he nodded.

he knew daniela, hell, she was a regular. she and the bartender got closer overtime, the more he saw her, and to be honest she helped him pull dudes while he helped her pull girls, so they were pretty close.

daniela pretty much had to pick you up to get you to her car, which wasn't much. she sighed to herself, hating that she couldn't stop her cravings but also because she's about to tear you from your mother, forever.

while she drove, you would come in and out of sleep, one time you said her name but she just shushed you, "please, this is already hard for me" she softly said, and ran her fingers through your hair at the red light.

you fell back into your slumber while she continued to drive, finally when she made it home, she took you into the basement.

the timing was perfect, her family was out and would be out for the next year to handle some business leaving daniela home alone.

she dragged you inside, taking you downstairs and chaining you to the random pole. the latina stared at you after doing so, this was so much harder for her to do this time. she really loved you, hell she couldn’t even stand the thought of you accidentally hitting yourself on the wall and here she was, having you chained in her basement.

she just kissed your forehead and went back upstairs, going back outside to properly park her car. she came back in, and flopped on the couch, sighing to herself. this was harder for daniela, which as different for her.

she was normally able to do this and get on with her life, hurry and end the situation, despose of the body and more but with you, she couldn't just do that. but as time passed, she began sharpening a knife.

while she did this you began waking up, your state was groggy. she came downstairs with the knife, “oh baby, you’re awake” she softly said.

she came and sat next to you, resting your head on her lap while cooing to you. “dani.. wha.. what happened?” you asked, your voice was slow and you could barely get words out fast enough.

“it’ll all be over soon, my love.” — words you heard from her over and over again that night, each time you asked.

one night, after she came home from being gone for hours, she came into the basement. daniela took the knife and asked for your hand. daniela looked into your eyes, her hazel ones being brighter than usual.

she then placed the blade against your wrist and kissed you, pulling you attention from the sharp blade ripping into your skin, slicing past your veins and almost hitting your bones.

you screamed in agony as this happened, crying to daniela begging her to stop, but she just licked the blood and began squeezing at the wound to pour all the blood out into a jar. "shh baby" daniela softly cooed, her hands holding a tight grip on your wrists.

"i love you (y/n), so much" daniela softly whispered, she brought medical bandaid wraps and wrapped the cut on your wrist. "i love you so much" she mumbled as she kissed you all over your face and neck.

her teeth grazed your neck, she softly nibbled at it, “i’m sorry beautiful” she softly said, then parted away from you. — your voice couldn’t come out, you wanted to say something but it was almost like you couldn’t speak.

she left upstairs then came back down with a glass of water and gentle smile on her face, “here baby, drink this” she said and you took the drink and began to drink it.

your vision began to blur almost immediately, daniela’s smile only becoming larger by the second. you just remember seeing black.

it’d had been weeks since you remember actually being awake all day, and you felt like it was driving you crazy. you really couldn’t peace the days together, it was all the same routine each time.

you were so frail, it honestly felt like you weren’t alive anymore. you hadn’t moved around in a while, after daniela woke you up, you were in her car.

“now i need you to lie and say something happened, we were partying and someone drugged you last night” daniela said, speeding to a nearby hospital.

“what….?” you got out, and daniela sighed, and put her fingers on the bridge of her nose, “please don’t fucking act stupid.” she continued to speed up, you watched as the miles per hour grew from 65 to 100 within the span of three minutes.

“dani, hey, okay” you said, trying to calm her down, which she did begin to slow down. “i don’t want to hurt you anymore (y/n), i love you” daniela mumbled to herself making you look at her, “i know you do”

when you two finally made it to the hospital, they put you on an iv, and took you to the back. they daniela back there after a while, but she soon had to leave, meaning you’d be out of her care for days now.

she came to check on you as often as she possibly could, and that was your routine for a while. until the last day you were in the hospital, you checked yourself out and decided to tell them about what daniela had done to you.

they had contacted the police, but somehow daniela knew someone who had worked in that hospital. it was a friend of hers, and they told her. that exact friend helped you out of the hospital, and you saw daniela’s car pull up in front.

you tried to run away but her friend held you until you were in the car with daniela, she smiled at her before you two drove off.

“d-dani its not what you think, i was under anesthesia and i just-“ she didn’t even look at you, “shut the fuck up” she drove somewhere remote, and unlocked the car doors.

you looked at her, your heart was racing, you were scared what she was gonna do. “i’ll give you a ten second head start” she calmly said, you got out of the car and began to run, trying to find your way to the nearest person or car or whatever.

daniela had a knife in hand, while also carrying a gun in case she needed to use it. she followed the way you ran in, but she was quieter than you, daniela came from behind you, and all you felt was a knife pierce your side.

you screamed as you fell down, daniela holding the knife against your neck now. “you’re so pretty, why’d you have to do this (y/n)? we would’ve been so perfect together” daniela said, a sick smile on her face.

she slide the blade across your throat, tearing your skin and continuing to cut at your neck until your shirt and her pants were dripping in blood.

she dragged your body back to her car, placing you inside of the body bag she brought along.

she changed her license plate to the one her friends gave her, she lied and said she’d be “going out of town” with you for a while if they don’t see you two for a long time but it was all a lie.

she drove back home, she felt empty. she didn’t like the way this ended. the drive home was silent, she continued looking at your body through her mirror, something in her head saying that you’d come back and wake up and you’re actually sitting in the front seat right next to her.

once she finally made it home, she carried you back to the basement and put you inside of the freezer. it was an extra she bought a while back, just to have in case and here she was using it.

as time inched closer to when her family would be making it back home, she knew she had to get rid of your body. she began sawing at parts of your body to make it easier to get rid of, but she couldn’t continue using the same technique.

she began eating your body, she was sick in head. she would sometimes leave plates in front of your mothers place, or just show up and be there for your mother while she searched for you helplessly, not knowing that you were right there in that plate of food she was eating.

daniela could only handle eating so much, each time she’d get sick and throw it back up, honestly, this made daniela so dehydrated and since she’d never leave due to the fear of your body getting found, she was becoming pale.

but finally, one early morning her family returned. she wasn’t home, she was working a late night shift. her father had went down in the basement, and saw the huge brown dried blood stain and the dripping liquid from the freezer.

the basement had a sickening smell to it, he puked as soon as he got down there. he walked over to the freezer, thinking they might’ve left some meat down there and didn’t put it up properly — only to open it and find your body.

he screamed, and his wife had never heard him scream like that. she ran down the stairs only to stare at the same scene that he was looking at.

they called the police, she was crying uncontrollably while he was just frozen. daniela pulled into the driveway around the same time, or just a few minutes after the police made it there.

“daniela avanzini?” one of the officers asked her, and she nodded, “you’re under arrest under the suspicion for the murder of y/n l/n” and he put the cuffs on her.

daniela panicked, “no wait, you have me mixed up with someone, you have to” — your mother was outside of her house, giving her statement when she watched daniela getting arrested and her heart sunk deep inside of her chest.

daniela looked at your mother, her eyes were so different now. your mother broke down right then and there, the officer tried consoling her but your mother couldn’t handle it.

they kept daniela in the back of the car while they began carrying the freezer out of the basement, and your mother threw up. “that’s her, isn’t it?” your mother asked, her voice was shaking.

the cop knew it was against regulations to tell her but she was your mother, “we believe it to be, ma’am.” —

later at the police station, they tried to get daniela to tell them a valid alibi between the hospital visit until today, because she was seen on cctv picking you up from there.

she said at some point, when she took a stop you ran out of the car and went somewhere, she didn’t know where.

but they pressed that they found a body, your body, in her basement. they had forensics search her car for your dna while others while at her place checking for any of your dna.

they had called your mother to come and identify your body, but you were badly decomposed, and there wasn’t much of you. your face was so hard to notice. they had to use dental records to identify.

once they identified it was you, and successfully got the dna from the car and her place, they just needed her to confess, they hoped she’d confess.

but she continued to deny, “y/n is somewhere out there, please you have to believe me” daniela sobbed out to one of the cops while they were taking her into her holding cell to await trial. —

your mother felt sick to her stomach for months after this lost, she couldn’t even sleep properly. thats when everything began to play in her head, the last few months.

you were missing, you went to the hospital but then for weeks daniela had been eating you. during those weeks she went over to your mothers house.

your mom decided to read the papers, see what the media’s been saying and the police did release a statement, admitting that she had eaten parts of your body.

your mother felt sick to her stomach, she vomited. she read what daniela said about it in an interview, saying that consuming you gave her food poisoning because you were already rotting when she began to eat you.

“the freezer down there was almost never working” daniela said, “so the body began to decay pretty quickly, and it was so hot down there. i’m surprised she lasted so long” — your mother felt so heartbroken, it drove her mad.

on the night she finally got to sleep, you came to her. you thanked her for giving you the life you always wanted, always begged for even though you both were never in the best situations all the time.

[mysticalcrowntyrant]

AAAAAAAAAH could you please write more for the yandere shapeshifter?? I absolutely love that concept! maybe if I could request something about how he would try his best to turn himself into whatever he thinks his darling wants? or maybe write the reveal moment where he's exposed and has to actually talk about himself for once?

thank you!!!

Yandere Shapeshifter x Reader (Part Three)

He tries. God, he tries.

In the days that follow, he stops changing. Or he tries to. He pulls back on the mimicry, the constant shifting of eyes, of smiles, of skin tones and bone structures. He doesn’t show up at your work in different forms, doesn’t seed praise into the mouths of strangers. He stops being your best friend’s new boyfriend, or the girl who always compliments your shoes in the elevator. He stops controlling the narrative.

And it’s excruciating.

Every instinct he has—every twisting, writhing piece of him—is built to become. To respond. To correct. If you frown, he wants to shed his face and put on another, one with dimples you like better or eyes the color of a summer storm. If you sigh, he wants to shift his voice, his laugh, his body, anything to make it better. Anything to make you stay.

But you asked for real.

And real is messy. Real is a body that doesn’t fit neatly into any one mold. It’s too many eyes in the wrong places. A mouth that splits his throat and coils downward, filled with teeth meant to consume. Real is a skin that doesn’t know how to be still, how to stop moving, how to be just one thing at a time. Real is him, kneeling on the bathroom floor, body half-shifted and trembling, just trying to hold it all in.

You find him there one night.

He’s not wearing any face at all. Not a single one. No disguise, no borrowed beauty. Just himself. Or what’s left of it. A shape that doesn’t make sense. A silhouette that doesn’t obey the laws of light. Limbs that exist in places they shouldn’t. A heart that beats behind his eyes. A hum, low and constant, not in the air but in the bones of the room.

You don’t scream.

You just sit beside him, slowly. Careful not to touch. Careful like someone approaching a wounded animal.

“I told you,” he says, his voice jagged and overlapping, like radio static through broken teeth. “I don’t remember who I am.”

You take a shaky breath. “Then maybe we start over. Together.”

It’s such a simple thing to say. Such a human thing. And it feels more impossible than anything he’s ever done. He has lived a hundred lives. A thousand identities. He has been gods, ghosts, men, women, beasts. He has worn joy like a suit, worn sorrow like a script.

But he’s never been just… himself.

“What if I don’t like me?” he asks, almost childlike.

Your voice is quiet. “Then I’ll help you learn how.”

He doesn’t get it right.

Sometimes he still slips. Still becomes the man you complimented once on the street, just for a second. Sometimes he reaches for a face you used to love, the boy with the guitar or the barista with the soft voice. He always catches himself now. Always pulls back. But it’s hard.

Change is easier than truth. Change is safe.

One night, weeks after he last wore someone else’s skin, you ask him again.

“Tell me your name.”

You’re sitting on the floor together, backs against the wall, the TV playing some movie you’re not watching. His shape is half-settled tonight—still strange around the edges, but less flickering. Less unmade.

He stares at the wall for a long time.

“I don’t think it was meant to be said in your language,” he says.

You smile. “Try me.”

He makes a sound. A low hum, deep in his chest. It sounds like a name if you’re generous—like a name if you were falling asleep and only half-heard it, half-dreamed it.

“What does it mean?” you ask.

He pauses. Then: “It meant ‘Remnant.’ The thing that’s left behind.”

You turn to him, frowning. “That’s not all you are.”

He looks at you, with all of his eyes, even the ones you can’t see. “It was all I was. Until you.”

You touch his hand. He has hands now. Mostly. Enough.

“Do you want a new one?”

“A new name?”

You nod.

He considers. For the first time in forever, the thought doesn’t terrify him. The idea of anchoring himself to a name, to a self, doesn’t feel like drowning. Not anymore.

“What would you call me?” he asks, voice quiet.

You think. Really think. Then you say, “Whatever name you’d want someone to say when they loved you.”

He is silent for a long time.

Then, softly, like he’s testing the shape of it: “Call me Lior.”

You blink. “That’s... beautiful. What does it mean?”

He smiles. This one is real. It takes effort. It tears his mouth in the wrong direction before it gets there. But it’s his.

“It means light,” he says.

You lean your head against his shoulder.

"Lior...That's nice."

Masterlist

[violet-moonvine]

Hand in Hand

I stand at the threshold of Soli’s hab.

In front of me is an impossibility. Beautiful trees, cobblestone streets, and smiling faces all revolve on colossal rings around the radiant central axis of the Menara, a whole world in miniature beyond the reach of scarcity and capital.

Behind me is the hab where I’ve spent the two most important weeks of my life, and the kindest, gentlest person I’ve ever known.

It feels like I’ve stood here for hours.

Catching up with my old crewmates should be an easy thing. It hasn’t been long. The pub where we agreed to meet is nearby, and apparently it even serves the weirdass Viburnian pub food most of us remember from before the ships came down and took us from one hell to another. And judging from some of those screen names in the group chat, I might not be the only one there sporting a shiny new gender.

“Are you alright, Natalie?” Soli asks. “Do you need help?”

Natalie.

I’ve heard people complain that affini are too fond of using pet names to address people. It makes them feel funny. Demeaned. Personally, I can’t relate. Nothing makes my heart flutter like hearing “Natalie” in the angelic voice of Soli Actipsis, 2nd Bloom. It makes me melt every time.

“It’s fine, Miss,” I say. “Just nervous.”

A half truth. The prospect of meeting “The Lads” as I am now is a little intimidating, sure, but deep down, I’m terrified that what’s stopped me in my tracks is not who I’m about to meet, but who I’m about to leave behind.

She’s done so much for me. She’s the one who encouraged me to be honest with myself and with her about my gender, after keeping it locked up for so long. She’s the one who calmed me down after waking up with that weird medical implant. The one who medicates me every morning. Who helped me walk again, who helped me eat normal food again, and so on, and so on. If the Affini believed in debt, then mine is one I could never repay.

Which is why it sucks that I’m down bad for her.

I have been ever since I woke up, after the Punisher was boarded, and I still don’t know how it happened. All I know is that I heard her serene voice, I saw her gentle, honey-gold eyes, and Limb-Loosening Eros took me.

It’s not fair to her to feel like this, to want even more from someone who’s given me so much. To want to hear her call me Hers. To know what her flower petal lips taste like. To be surrounded by her, in ways only an affini can.

I see her perfect face on the inside of my eyelids. I hear her voice in the quiet of my mind. I smell the phantom traces of her perfume in every corner of her hab.

I feel like I’m standing on the edge of a volcano, and the part of me that holds me back from jumping gets weaker every day.

And it is a danger, at least of a sort. She’s given me a whole life to live, on my own terms, in a way that I could never have imagined even a month ago. A life free of poverty, free of mandatory work, and free of the pressure to exist for another. And I’m already daydreaming about giving it up. To be a floret is not a punishment, but it’s certainly a forfeiture of everything Soli’s given me.

And if even taking a step outside Soli’s hab is fucking me up this bad, I’m really in danger.

“Natalie, you haven’t frozen have you?”

Her voice finds its way inside my chest and coils around my heart.

“N-no, Miss. I’m not sure why, but…” I try to take a step outside. My foot crosses the threshold, then retreats like a bug scuttling back under a rock.

“It’s okay that you’re nervous, little Natalie. Maybe having some moral support would steel your nerves?”

It takes me a few seconds to piece together her meaning. She wants to come with me.

I turn to look at her. Her two gentle ambers pull my attention.

I almost say yes.

“S-shouldn’t I do this myself? I need to- to get used to being-”

“Nonsense.” She interrupts me. I let her. “Part of being independent is recognizing when you need help, after all. Let me come to the pub with you.”

That seems reasonable.

Soli stands up from her seat to join me. I watch her flowing, goldenrod hair bounce in time with her elegant gait. Her simulated high heel boots click-clack against the floor. Her form is mesmerizing, and the way her “boots” and her Lady Godiva hair contrast with her otherwise seemingly undressed body just makes me feel all the more sinful for it. I tell myself it’s like she’s wearing a catsuit. Unsurprisingly, that doesn’t help.

She walks up to me, towering above me, at probably twice my height. I wonder what it would feel like to curl up in her lap.

“Here, my little Natalie. Take my hand. Let’s go together.”

I nearly swoon. My little Natalie.

And then I register the rest of what she said.

The last time I let her touch me was the night I woke up. I was still exhausted, barely recovered from… everything. And I let her bathe me.

I dreamed about her touch for nights afterward.

She was perfectly respectful and quick about it, a consummate professional. A growing part of me wishes she hadn’t been.

I look up. Soli extends her hand down for me to take.

I shouldn’t.

I think it would end me.

It might actually break me.

My hand rises, in defiance of my will. My fingertips slide against hers. I feel the deceptively soft flesh of her fingertips against the swirling ridges of my own as they slide deeper into her, by inch by ruinous inch. My fresh, red nails disappear over the horizon of my knuckles, eclipsed by hers. The disparity in the size of our hands makes me nearly swoon all over again. It reminds me how small I am. How vulnerable. Soli could do anything she wanted to me, and it’s by the grace of her honorable character that she’s used this power for good. I almost wish she’d use it for evil. It’s not like I could stop her. I probably wouldn’t even try.

My hand tries to close around her fingers, but she continues her advance down my arm. Not content to merely hold my hand, in a chaste, finger-against-finger position, she swallows my whole hand in hers. She wants to take it, every inch.

I feel my heart race.

She engulfs me in her powerful hand, and she holds me tight. It’s warm. I feel the currents of hot sap coursing beneath the soft surface of her palm. I feel my own heartbeat in the rhythmic expansions of my fingertips against her. She must feel it too. Does she know?

I scrabble around the inside of her hand, desperate to somehow make this gesture symmetrical. To prove that I have at least a little agency in this arrangement. I fail, of course. The Affini don’t do symmetrical. She’s taken my hand as presumptuously as she’s shouldered the burden of my recovery, and in neither case is anything expected of me. My sentence is to be cared for, and to give nothing in return.

My hand submits to hers, and simply rests within its belly, palm-to-palm. I rub my fingers against her simulated palmar muscle. I can feel the strength in them.

I look at the verdant cocoon surrounding my hand, squeezing it tight.

I feel it squeezing my heart tight, too.

My eyes squeeze shut.

I’ve clung so hard to my coming independence. I should get to live a life of my choosing, on my own terms. The opportunity is right there for the taking. For the first time in my life, the only thing in my way is me.

And I still want it.

I just want Her more.

Something in me shudders apart.

I let go.

A tear meanders down my cheek. It’s warm and gentle, like her. My breathing slows. The static in my mind clears.

I look back up at Soli. She returns my gaze with nothing but love and patience.

I resolve to ask her the Big Question tonight, after dinner. I hope she says “yes.”

“W-we should get going, Miss,” I say.

“Lead the way. My little natalie~,” she says.

[mediocre-hospital-24]

EAT ME

Description: You and Jayce have dated for a few months now but whenever things get steamy, he backs down. Your frustrated horny self wants to know why.

Warnings: 18+, no P in V yet because I’m a coward but I hope to get there, fingering mostly. Oh! And some dry humping.

Authors Note: This is my first real written piece that I’m posting so please be gentle lol. I’ll put up part two if people like this one I guess? I honestly don’t know if it’s hot garbage or not so I’m counting on you! Currently want to throw up from how nervous I am…

Part 2: https://www.tumblr.com/mediocre-hospital-24/781770737299161088/pleasant-awakenings-part-two-of-eat-me

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There aren't many men you would let ruin you, but god you wish Jayce Talis would.

You had been dating for about a month now. Pining for nearly three after you first met at the old junk shop you started working in. The man was so sweet he could’ve given you cavities, and of course you love that. But you wish he’d let himself devour you. You didn’t want to rush things, but you couldn’t stave off the throbbing between your legs anytime he was near anymore. You see glimpses of his sensual side, a slight shift in his eyes when he looms behind you, with his hand resting on your ass. His breath brushes your neck and ear as he moves your hair aside. He smirks, his hand twitches like he wants to pinch and grope the softness of you. But he always backs out at the last second, moving his hand back up to your hip or lower back and giving a nervous chuckle as he moves to your side.

He’s so sweet and considerate it hurts. You want to give him what he needs, you want him to tell you what that is. You want him to fuck you senseless and lick you clean after. You see him pent up and frustrated and obviously holding back with you. It drives you crazy. You worry that you’re doing something wrong. Does he not want you physically? Is there someone else? Are you not what he expected? You can hardly sleep anymore without thoughts of inadequacy plaguing your mind. You never had self esteem issues before, damn him and his beautiful sad puppy eyes.

One night, after he’s done working for the day, you finally get some time to yourselves. His apartment is cozy, and smells like him. He leads you to a comfortable looking, blue couch, with cushions that look soft enough to eat you. Jayce sits first and starts talking about his day at the university lab. You don’t catch a lot of it, mostly too busy staring at his pretty mouth as he speaks. You crawl into his lap and he stiffens for a moment like he doesn’t know where to put his hands. Eventually he places one on your shoulder while you cuddle into him. His heart is beating at an elevated pace. You bury your hand and scratch your nails lightly over the base of his neck. He lets out a ragged breath as you place your lips on the warm skin of his throat.

Gentle kisses turn into nipping, sucking, and gliding your hot tongue over his pulse point. His hands slide to your waist. You grip his shirt, and move your legs to straddle him. He’s clearly enjoying himself as you mark him up. His deep groans rumbling through his chest as a hand comes up to thread through your hair. But time freezes the moment your pelvis brushes against his and you feel his bulge under you. You desperately want to grind down on him, to feel some relief from the tension building between your thighs but he holds your hips and stops you. You practically sob at the loss of contact.

“ Jayce, please what’s wrong? I need you so bad it hurts! Is it me? Do you not want me like that? Is there someone else?” Your tone is breathless, yearning and desperate. You’re at your wits end and all you want is for him to give you SOMETHING. What could possibly be so wrong that he won’t even let you make out, and hump against him like a horny teenager?

He sighs, adjusts his hips uncomfortably and looks down at his hands that are now on your thighs. He’s hid for weeks, neither of you can keep putting this off. You're both suffering in a pent up, horny, prison of his creation. You're on the verge of tears and he’s not far off. It’s been torture for him to try to keep his hands off you, especially when you insist on taking every opportunity you can to make his cock leak. You’ve “accidentally,” (very purposefully) rubbed your ass against his crotch so many times, thinking you’re so slick, even Viktor has noticed.

“ I’m scared of hurting you okay?” He blurts in a panic, immediately averting his gaze from you.

“ Listen, I knew I didn’t have to worry about Mel. She was taller and tougher than even most men I’ve met, but you… You’re so little. I’m scared I’ll bruise you just by squeezing you too hard, not to even mention being inside you. I-I’m scared I’ll break you.” He confesses with a pleading expression on his chiseled face.

You stare at him, dumbfounded by how the smartest man in Piltover could be so unbelievably stupid.

“ Jayce, I’m not made of glass! It’d take a hell of a lot of effort to break me, I’ve kept the store from being robbed plenty of times!” You exclaim, your pride having been wounded.

“ It’s not about that! I know you’re not fragile but you’re small, and I’m not! It wouldn’t take much to accidentally hurt you. I’ve had girls struggle to be able to take me before that’s why I’m worried, and they were taller than you!” He expresses earnestly. His hands are shaking and his eyes are glassy. He really is afraid for you.

“ Jayce, look at me?” You try to keep your voice steady and calm. You touch his face and guide him to your eye line, stroking and cradling his jaw in the process.

“ You haven’t even explored my body yet and you’ve decided to give up on me so quickly? I’ve never even been around your fingers and you're ready to write me off. I think I should be able to decide what I can and can’t take Jayce.” You’re trying to stay calm, trying not to let frustration take over you. You aren’t stupid. You know you’re small, five foot, three and a half inches to be exact. You’ve always loved tall, brawny men as well. You’d even found yourself staring a little too long at the Vander memorial statue a time or two; Thinking naughty thoughts before quickly chasing them away after coming to your senses.

Your mother would often criticize you saying you didn’t need someone so large; that that was just greedy because everyone is already taller than you. Jayce of course is no exception, his muscles taught and perfectly sculpted after years of smithing. You love being held by him because he just envelops you completely. He’s safe, warm, and makes you feel protected. The moment you first saw him browsing the junk shop, you knew you were a goner. You hadn’t stopped thinking about having his hands on you since that day. Of course Jayce has other lovely attributes that don’t involve his body, but you have been waiting for him. Waiting for him to touch, and get to know the deepest parts of you. Waiting for him to feel ready to take your relationship further.

You already know you love who he is, but you desperately want to show him, worship his skin, kiss every scar, and leave plenty of love bites to show the world that he’s YOURS. You want to see the look on Mel Medardas face when she sees him covered in your bites, and the scent of you still lingering on his skin. She couldn’t contain her laughter when she first saw who Jayce’s new chosen romantic partner was. You suppose now you understand. She thought the same thing he did, that you were too weak to take him. However, you weren’t one to back down from a challenge.

Your expression was firm and unwavering against your uneasy boyfriend. Then your expression softened as you let out a sigh.

“ I understand that you’re nervous Jayce. But I know you would never intentionally hurt me. I trust you entirely, please don’t deny us this anymore. Let me try?” You state, trying to be comforting, confident, and gentle at the same time. Jayce looks on like a skittish animal. He wants you, he REALLY does. He’s had so many dreams about you, lost many hours of sleep until finally giving into his desperate urges. No matter how many times he fists his cock and mutters your name he still always wakes up unsatisfied and frustrated. He also isn’t just nervous about his size. He knows as soon as you let him on top of you he will lose all sense, becoming a lust crazed beast.

He doesn’t know what your past experience has been but he’s never felt the way he does around you with anyone. You consume him. All rational sense leaves his mind at the sight of you, and he can only think with his dick. You scare him. He’s so used to being confident and in control of himself, but you make him lose that. You aren’t like the prestigious, prim and proper noble women he’s used to. You’re unrestrained, emotional, and outspoken. This very conversation is proof of that. Sex wasn’t something he, or anyone in his family talked about. It was meant to be hidden and un-discussed, censored, from what he had gathered from his time with the Piltover elite. His mother would die of shock if she ever found out he’d touched himself to the thought of you.

He was uncomfortable and disgusted by most of his thoughts of you whilst you always were so open with him. You weren’t afraid to tell him what you liked, or thought of him. He almost died when he had to go on a business trip and you showed up with a letter that morning with instructions to open it if he missed you. After getting settled into his hotel for the night he decided to take a peek at what was hiding in the secret envelope you passed him in such a hurry. He nearly keeled over from a heart attack when he found a note sprayed with your perfume along with a pair of your prettiest panties.

He honestly doesn’t even remember what the note contained. He was so dazed (and rock hard). Needless to say, he tipped the hotel cleaning staff extra after his stay (He always was a copious cummer, of course he leaked on the sheets). Before you, he was so level headed and rational with his thoughts and feelings, now he was the exact opposite. But maybe that was okay? He had been somewhat uptight throughout his life. Always obedient to his mother, never partied or rebelled. Everything was always straight forward. He worked hard to curate a respectable and shiny image. But you weren’t with him for that.

You weren’t native to Piltover or Zaun, you’d moved here after leaving your childhood home from a city you don’t really talk about. You didn’t even know who he was when you first saw him browsing your shop. You referred to him as the “Pretty Pilty,” for weeks until he finally got the courage up to actually try to talk to you instead of just the average business transaction. You made him nervous, always openly flirting and fluttering your pretty lashes his way. He was lucky you didn’t think he was a bumbling idiot. He’d fallen for you so hard, and seeing you currently in so much distress broke his heart.

After thinking for far too long, he finally pulls you against him. You let out the prettiest gasp as he finally lets his pelvis press against yours. He starts humping up into you, pushing himself against right where you need him most. He’s so hard now, it must have felt uncomfortable in his tight pants.

“Agh, god baby you feel so good! I’m sorry for neglecting you, I didn’t mean to. I just got nervous. I like you a lot you know… I’ll be careful I promise.” He admits softly while panting and blushing. He presses his forehead to yours and nudges your nose against his. His expression is so soft and earnest despite his less than innocent intentions.

“ I know Jayce, I was never worried! You’re being awfully sweet but I really need you to kiss me now okay?” You reply, your breathing becoming heavy and uneven. You were at long last able to grind yourself against his hard on and it felt like heaven, saiting the burning heat in your core. Jayce didn’t hesitate to start attacking your mouth with his and letting his massive hands grope your ass, helping guide your hips over him in the process. His hot tongue bullied his way into your mouth a bit more aggressively than you expected as he nipped and sucked your bottom lip. He was so overwhelming in the best way.

He was everywhere, on your skin, in your mouth, at the apex of your thighs, and the button on his pants was deliciously catching on your clit. You were certain you could’ve cum from just this, bearing down on him, your clothed hardened nipples rubbing against his chest, him practically drooling into you and trying to suck the air from your lungs at the same time. The sounds coming from you only spurred him on. Continually licking into your mouth and rutting his hips into yours. One of his warm hands slowly sneaks its way under your bra, the rough pads of his thumb and forefinger begin to tease your nipple. The feeling was electric, there was a jolt that moved right to your clit the moment he gave the bud a pinch. You let out a sharp yelp at the sensation. Jayce was momentarily startled and almost started to look you over, thinking maybe he’d hurt you. His hand stilled for a moment and you wanted to scream.

“No, don't stop! I’m not hurt, please keep going. I need you to keep touching me please!” You could hardly recognize how pathetic you’d become. You were trembling from dry humping and a nipple flick. He was torturing you. You reached down to undo his belt, trying to take some control over the situation but he quickly pulled your hands away.

“None of that now, let me take care of you properly or I’ll tie your hands together.” His tone had darkened, his eyes were playful but his expression was serious. As if you weren’t wet enough before, you were sopping after that sentence. He felt your thighs flex. His gaze turned sultry as he wrapped an arm around your back and pulled you up onto your knees, your chests pressed as close as they could be. His eyes were so intensely focused on you, like you were the most precious thing he’d ever held. His other hand snaking up your thigh and undoing your pants as you quivered. You were too afraid to speak, too scared you’d ruin the moment and make him draw his hand back. Your hands clung to his button down.

When his hand finally slipped into your panties you felt like you were going to melt. You whimpered as his index fingers oh so gently stroked your slit. Your throat went dry as you fully leaned into him and mewled. How could he ever think he’d be too rough? His touch was soft and tender as he explored your folds, in awe of how hot and silky you were as your entrance fluttered. After thoroughly soaking his fingers, he made his way to your clit, tentatively rubbing tight circles around it. You were gasping and moaning quite loudly now, throwing your head back as your hips met his hand in a steady rhythm.

“ Hey Princess, is it okay if I give you a finger or two or do you wanna cum like this?” He slows his hand to get your attention, something you weren’t thrilled about, once again being so damn considerate. He brings his hand up to the nape of your neck to direct your eyes to his.

“ I’ve barely touched you and you’re practically delirious already. Tell me what you want and you can cum, alright Beautiful?” You wrack your brain willing it to respond, you give a weak nod to him and he narrows his eyes and stops petting your pussy entirely. You go to cry out and he puts a steady hand around your throat, directing you to look at him.

“ Use your words Baby, gotta make sure.” He sweetly taunts. You huff and glare at him in annoyance.

“ Yes-, p-please Jayce, need your fingers.” You express as clearly as you can, despite how flustered you are about uttering such a filthy request.

“ Of course Pretty Girl, so good for me.” He breathes out, and warmth tickles your ear. You writhe and groan in relief when he places his hand back where you need it. He gently caresses your entrance again, coaxing out more wetness as he goes. His thumb goes to circle your clit again, and you keep your thighs spread wide over his hips. Thank goodness you aren’t on the floor, and this couch is so ridiculously plush. Your knees would be bruised by now. He starts moving his index and middle fingers into a gentle parting V shape over your slit to try to open you up a bit. You never said if you were a virgin or not, not that it mattered, but you felt tight and he hadn’t even pushed his fingers into you yet. It still made him a bit nervous, but he wasn’t going to show it on his face. He needed you to be relaxed, comfortable, and as wet as possible. You were doing pretty well with the wet part so far, the sounds of his fingers running through your dribbling folds were becoming damn near obscene.

He was practically salivating trying to keep his thoughts away from pinning you to the couch and burying his head into your hot cunt. He needed to behave for now. Keep his head on his shoulders no matter how much his sensitive dick aches. This was about giving you pleasure and building trust. Once he was satisfied with the amount of slickness that was dripping out of you, he slowly began to push a finger in. His finger was warm and thick, much bigger than yours, and his nails were short and smooth (he had started filing and buffing them when you started dating). After checking your expression to see that you weren’t in any discomfort, he pushed in another, his middle to be exact. It was bigger, and longer. Your breath hitched as you attempted to breathe through the intrusion.

It wasn’t painful per say, but it was unfamiliar having 2 large fingers spreading you open. Jayce noticed right away, he gave you a soft apology before stroking and circling your clit with his thumb again. It helped tremendously and soon enough you were once again a sloppy mewling mess. Your eyes struggled to stay open as you arched yourself into your boyfriend, your legs as wide as you could get them given the position and your hips thrusting into his hand erratically.

You were sure to ruin his pants or his couch with how much your hole was drooling. You were keening loudly now, Jayce hoped his neighbors weren’t home but absolutely loved hearing how good he was making you feel. You were close now, your tight little opening pulsating and gripping his fingers like a lifeline. He snuck a third finger into you and that was the tipping point. You begin gasping and letting out curses, begging for faster, harder, right there. Your thighs were shaking. He placed a hand on your lower back to help guide your pace again. You were so close but you were wrecked.

“Jayce p-please, it’s so much, I-it almost hurts.” You whimpered weakly. He had overstimulated you with all the humping. He felt bad but he knew you could get there, you just needed a little extra help. He wouldn’t be caught dead leaving you like this.

“ Don’t give up, you can do it baby, you’re just a little worked up ok? You’re so close, just get out of that head of yours and focus on me.” He mutters sweetly. You lean into him, readjust your hips and back and take a few shaky breaths. Jayce slows his pumping and gently strokes your gummy walls until he hears you make a sharp and shaky moan. He speeds up again and you're practically convulsing and finally your walls clamp down on him and you wale. All that leaves your mouth is “Jayce,” and “Fuck,” repeatedly as you release all over your boyfriend’s palm. He curls his fingers and strokes your swollen clit as you ride out your remaining waves of ecstasy.

You collapse against him, practically boneless, heavily panting and completely Fucked out just from this man’s FINGERS. Jayce pulled up your pants, and began stroking your hair while he held you and let you enjoy your come down. He couldn’t stop smiling as he stared down at you. You were clearly fighting sleep. After being certain your afterglow had diminished, he got out from under you and made his way to the bathroom. He finished himself off as quickly and quietly as he could. It didn’t take more than a few pumps to have him spilling into his hand due to how worked up you made him.

After he cleaned himself up quickly, he grabbed an extra set of comfortable clothes, a warm wet washcloth, and a dry one. He made his way to the living room where you were still resting, he had changed into some sweatpants and decided against a shirt. You always loved his chest and knew nuzzling into it was one of your favorite activities, plus skin on skin is something he enjoys. He stripped you of your pants and underwear and gave you a quick wipe down between your thighs, a broken whine slipped past your lips. Your hips twitched as you flinched from sensitivity. He stroked your hip, and leaned down to kiss your forehead.

“ You did so good honey, made me so proud.” He sweetly cooed to you, as he nuzzled his nose against yours. You gave a halfhearted chuckle as a response, he did most of the work, you just enjoyed his ministrations. After gently drying between your legs; he slipped you into a pair of boxers and then swapped your uncomfortable looking blouse for a soft silk pajama top. After tossing the washcloths and your clothes into the laundry ( he read the instructions to make sure nothing shrinks or gets ruined) he gently carried you into the bedroom and tucked you into his soft, cool sheets before climbing in next to you. He pressed himself against your back and snuggled into you. You did stir after a moment when you realized he didn’t get off, but he just pulled you back into his arms and said that you could worry about him next time. You smiled, you were glad to hear there would be a next time.

[bbina]

it didn't take a while for chenle to finally show up at the lobby where he asked you to wait in

he casually strolls next to you in an entirely different outfit. he's out of his usual crisp suit that he wears like its his skin. this time he's just in a shirt and some sweatpants

"let's go" chenle chirps all excited, giving you his duffel bag which you assumed was where he kept his things

you huff as you feel the weight of his bag being slung to your shoulder carelessly

"why is your bag so heavy" you huffed, adjusting the straps on your shoulders while you carry your own work bag on the other

chenle doesn't even look back when he answers you

"the company's lifeline is in there. also my laptop so be careful with that" he notes, walking towards the entrance of the building

you simply glare at the back of his head as you trudge behind him. you hope that this wouldn't take too long as you still need to catch up with the girls later on

. . .ᝰ.ᐟ

you had assumed that you had to ride in the same car as him when you first saw his text about needing to accompany him for his basketball practice but it turns out, there was a basketball court just right out of the corner of the street the company building was on so it doesn't take long you two to get there

"i thought you were going to your basketball practice?" you ask, setting his duffel bag gently onto the bleachers

"we're at a basketball court" chenle points out, looking around

you roll your eyes as you take a seat next to his bag

"i mean i thought it was gonna be at some private gymnasium or something and not a.. community basketball court"

chenle shrugs, placing his phone inside his duffel bag

"depends. i'm playing with the guys tonight so technically, it's still basketball practice but you're not wrong. i do go to a private gymnasium sometimes when i need professional classes" chenle explains

you sigh, making sure its loud enough that chenle can hear it. if you weren't at this stupid basketball court, you could've been in the city with your friends karina and giselle having a great time already but no. you were once again stuck with your boss, who had already changed out of his usual work clothes into something comfortable while you were stuck in your work clothes

"why am i even here" you muttered, grabbing your phone out of your bag to start your doomscrolling as you wait for the time to pass

chenle had the audacity to laugh at your demise

"because you're my assistant. you quite literally have to be with me and attend to my needs all the time now"

you scowl at your boss who starts cackling at your reaction. before you can say anything back, a loud voice calls out from the other side of the court

"yooo bossman!" someone hollers, waving his hands like crazy

you look to the side and there you see three guys who you seem a little familiar jogging over to your side

"oh my god it's the famous assistant!" hyuck gasps, covering his mouth in shock. "i heard so much about you! we're even mutuals on twitter!"

"... uh hi?" you greet awkwardly, not really knowing what to say

"it's me donghyuck! the pr manager!" he introduces himself, sliding next to you as he grabs your hand and shakes it, "but you can call me hyuck since we're basically friends now"

it's a little weird to see donghyuck or hyuck in the flesh in real time. it was like he was just a figment of your imagination. someone who just replies to your not so direct tweets towards chenle like a bot on twitter

but no. this is your colleague. the company's pr manager

jisung and mark shortly introduce themselves not long after hyuck

"i'm mark. nice to finally meet you" mark smiles

"and i'm jisung, the hr manager. just so you know" jisung smiles awkwardly

you politely smile as you greet them back while hyuck was busy taking a good look at you, the infamous assistant that has lasted for over 3 weeks now handling chenle like an absolute champ

"alright enough hogging my assistant. there you three finally met her. can we start now?" chenle's voice cuts through the air. the three boys all turn around to look at him

"oh hey bossman" hyuck shrugs, "almost didn't see you there"

chenle ignores him and walks to his duffel bag to grab his own basketball

"let's play" chenle calls out to his friends, walking into the court as he starts dribbling the ball. he suddenly turns around and looks at you, "this won't take long"

you simply roll your eyes as you begrudgingly nod. not like you had any other choice anyway. hyuck lets out a giggle at your interaction. this was the very first time he's witnessing how you two act in real life and not through your tweets

"this is like straight out of those webtoon episodes–"

before he could elaborate further on what he could possibly mean by that, mark drags him to the court by the ear

"OW! OUCH!" hyuck yelps as his head jerks to the side

"next time don't come if you're not gonna play with us"

"no i will cause that means i'm getting a free ride– OW! MARK WHAT THE FUCK!"

you don't even know what to say if you're being honest. all you wanted to do was to go home but nope you're going to be stuck here for a while

. . .ᝰ.ᐟ

this basketball practice did in fact take too long. you've been sitting at the bleachers for what seems like an hour now. so much for him saying this won't take long when at the moment it seems like chenle was having the time of his life on the court

you hate to admit it but whenever you'd hear some cheers from the court, you can't help but look up to see what was going on and there you see your boss, chenle, who seemed to be in his element. acting like he was about get drafted into the nba if they found him playing here at some random community park

unfortunately, chenle was a little too good at playing basketball

then again, what do you know about the sport?

chenle was quick on his feet. never missing a beat when he shoots the ball straight to the net with absolute ease. like it was second nature to him

he is the walking definition of confidence and charisma. he just oozes these two characteristics that you kinda hated it about him. why was he just so good at everything? from being a ceo and running a million dollar company on his back at his young age, he had to be good at sports too?

whatever. he's still an asshole, you think to yourself. diverting your attention back to your phone. you wouldn't want to be caught staring at your boss after—

SMACK!

all of a sudden your vision turns black and you feel a stinging sensation on your head

did you just get hit by a ball?

"oh my god"

"that wasn't me"

"you literally yelled 'this one is for you!' and missed the net!"

"are you okay?!" chenle's voice rings your ears. he runs to your side as he watches you cradle your head after the impact of a lose ball hitting you square in the head

you snap your eyes open, glaring at your boss in front of you

"you. absolute. fucking. dickhead!" you screamed

chenle doesn't know to laugh or to be concerned but based from your reaction, you seemed to be okay. fine even

"it wasn't my fault! it was mar-"

"i don't care whose fault it was! did i look like the fucking net to you" you throw your hands up in the air out of pure frustration

haechan was full on crying from laughing, jisung had to turn around or else he'd laugh while mark was wheezing

chenle opens his mouth to defend himself but you weren't letting him

"you know what. i'm going to hr on monday. report you for employee endangerment! putting my safety at risk outside work hours!" you threaten chenle, glaring at him

chenle rolls his eyes, "you're being dramatic. it's not like i meant to hit you–"

"adding that to the report. wait til sir kun hears about this" you tell him, whipping out the work gc on your phone ready to tattle on chenle to kun, aka the only person you respect more than chenle

chenle groans, running a hand through his face realizing that you weren't going to let this go

"fine. i'm sorry i hit you on accident" chenle apologizes half heartedly, "i guess i can let you go home after this"

chenle has never seen you go back to normal after hearing that you could go home. you instantly calmed down and happily grabbed your bag as you stood up from the bleachers as if you didn't just get hit by a ball

"that's more like it. report cancelled. see you" you bid your farewell to your boss as you walk away from the court

when you were out of sight, chenle walks back to the boys as they all try to catch their breaths from laughing so much

"i see why you keep her around. she grounds you some way some how" hyuck teases

chenle raises an eyebrow. he didn't need any grounding. it wasn't his fault that you were the type to not back down

"what do you mean by that?"

"i think he means she knows how to handle you. she's not afraid of you" mark points out while hyuck starts cackling again, replaying the memory of you getting hit by the ball because of jisung's weak pass to chenle that caused the ball flying to your direction and maybe right to your head

"does she know i'm hr... i told her didn't i?" jisung asks no one but himself out loud

"eh beats me. come on one more round" chenle cuts the conversation short, not thinking much of it

BUSINESS PROPOSAL ᝰ.ᐟ . . . AFTER WORK HOURS

✎ . . . things aren't going as planned the way you thought it was going to be. especially the part where you find yourself falling in love with your own boss– which was definitely not part of the agreed proposal.

[ PREV / NEXT ]

✎ AUTHORS NOTE . . . i didnt proof read the narration im too sleepy neow LOL

✎ TAGLIST . . . @mrkleelvr @jenodigital @https-dandelion @rik0shii @spacejip @yyangj3lly @multifandomania @taroddori @222brainrot @amouriu @defzcl @va1entinaa @carelessshootanonymous @onlywonb @flaminghotyourmom @do-you-remember-summer-127 @grimlinshere @yayayaiheardyouthefirsttime @hoeingthefuckup @meltinghershey @alwayswook @dutifullyannoyingstrawberrie @dudekiss3r @sibwol @planetmarlowe @doraemiz @morklee02 @httpsxnox @firydst @yuyita-rosier @ayukas @cottonjaems @monomya @neocults26 @greenyweirdo

[marauder-misprint]

Okay HELLO I just want to say 1) I love your writings and 2) holy cow your sirius x snapes daughter fic has infected my mind since I read it. I never would have expected how into it I am. Would you ever consider writing a follow up for it? I cant stop thinking about them realizing that,, this is actually working out and now they have to figure how to tell remus, harry, and.....Snape himself. I just love the thought of them sneaking around and having to dodge their thoughts (Snape and legilimency YIKES) but surprisingly still getting away with it. I feel like Tonks despite (or maybe because of) her own pining would be the first to catch on. I just love the secret dating/forbidden romance trope and this is so so fun and I love the OotP timeline set up. I kept wondering too if reader would get a chance to show her defense skills and not just potioneering. If you're not up for it no worries!! But just know that you have me seated and ready, sippin my drink and entirely invested

Hi! Thank you for all the love ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎ This story is hitting harder than I was anticipating, but the people ask or a part 2, I give a part 2. And there will be a part 3 at some point. When? That is up to the writing gods.

Hope y'all enjoy ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎

Snape Spawn ii

Sirius Black x Snape!reader

part one

5k words

cw: age gap!, Y/N, sneaking around, fluff

You closed the door to Grimmauld Place quietly behind you. You had Chinese takeaway in your arms as you scanned the entry. No Remus in sight, which was good you thought. You’re not sure how you’d explain why you were here. You hadn’t gotten that far. You headed up the stairs and knocked on Sirius’ bedroom door. 

“Not feeling great, Moons. I’ll eat something later,” Sirius called through the door. 

You turned the handle, barely pushing the door open. “Would some Chinese make you feel better?” 

Within a moment, Sirius was pulling you into his room and closing the door. The containers of food landed on the desk. He held you at arms’ length, debating if it would be appropriate to hug or kiss you; frankly, he wanted to do both. 

“You’re actually here.”

You tilted your head. “We made plans, Sirius. And I figured eating here would be better than eating alone in my flat again.”

He chuckled and let his hands fall from your shoulders. 

“Did Remus see you?”

“No. Don’t think he heard me either. I tried to be quiet.”

“Didn’t set my mother’s portrait off. That’s a good sign. Although, Remus might smell our dinner… I’ll figure something out to tell him.”

Sirius gives you a smile before turning toward the containers and looking through them, seeing what you all got. 

“Wasn’t sure what you’d like so I got a few things. All things I like so take whatever and I’ll be good.” 

“Hmm… Appears you have good taste…” 

He selected a container and set of chopsticks before sitting on the floor. You mirrored him – his back was to the wall and yours to his bed. You sat in silence, eating for a minute or so.

“Tell me ‘bout yourself,” you said in between bites. 

Sirius doesn’t answer right away, opting to take another bite of his food. You supposed it was probably the first date that he’d been on in a long while, but surely he’s had to get to know people since escaping Azkaban. It wasn’t like he was alone in Grimmauld Place all the time. 

“I’m a scorpio. Like dogs and motorcycles. Used to have one, you know. Before… everything.” You nodded, encouraging him to keep going. “My best friends are dead, a traitor and probably in the sitting room. James Potter, Peter Pettigrew and Remus. We used to have such a good time together. Complemented each in ways that had McGonagall pulling her hair out.” 

“What did you do?”

“Some harmless pranks, kid stuff. Except we were all brilliant and a tad reckless.” “And something tells me some of them weren’t harmless.”

“Possibly mortifying for some? If you want to see one of the ugliest sides of me, just talk to, ahem, Severus.” 

You gave a dry laugh. “I don’t think I’m going to be asking Dad about you any time soon.” 

Sirius smiled at you. 

“Also, I like that your first thing you said was your zodiac sign,” you laughed before telling him your own. “Do you believe in sign compatibility?” 

He shrugged. “Only if ours are compatible.” 

“Good answer,” you chuckled. “Did you take Divination?”

“Merlin, no. Ancient Runes and Arithmancy. Loved Runes-” Sirius gestured to himself and his collection of rune-related tattoos. “-if that wasn’t obvious. Arithmancy, not so much.”

“Hmm. Besides your pranks, were you a good student?”

“I passed,” he said nonchalantly. “I’m good with a wand, I know my spells. Not as good at brewing as you are and I’ve killed my fair share of plants.” 

“Oh, sure, flatter me.” You shake your head slightly. 

“What? It’s true! After Severus, you’re the only other person we could ask to brew Wolfsbane.”

“I’m a part of the order,” you said, pointing your chopsticks at him. 

“Yes, but you brewed it perfectly. Even with… a distraction in the room.”

“A distraction that kissed me, mind you. That’s certainly one way to distract me more.”

“And you still brewed it perfectly.” Sirius flashed you a cocky grin. “So tell me about yourself. What do you do besides immaculate potions?”

“I mean, it does take up most of my time. My shop, you know. I live above it so I don’t have a commute. I hang out with my friends from school sometimes, but they are all pretty busy with their jobs. We still find time to get a drink at the Leaky Cauldron from time to time. Erm… Been trying to read more lately. Some fun muggle books that I find in secondhand shops.”

“Secondhand book shops, you should suggest some to Remus. He’d appreciate it,” Sirius said with a nod. “What book are you currently reading?” 

“There’s this mystery series, Sherlock Holmes. Only four actual books, but there are so many short stories about him.”

“Oh? You’re liking it so far?”

You nodded.

“You should bring me one. I’ll read it.”

You started talking about other books you’ve read recently and Sirius listened more intently than you expected him to. What surprised you even more was when Sirius talked about the books he read in time after Hogwarts and before Azkaban – he was an avid reader. He said he missed having access to bookstores and libraries, yet another downside to being trapped in Grimmauld Place. 

After you finished eating, you moved to sit next to Sirius. You asked him what this neighborhood was like when he was growing up; he told you stories about him sneaking out to walk the streets and visit muggle stores. He didn’t like being trapped in the house back then and he still doesn’t. You rested your head on his shoulder, listening to his voice. Subconsciously, your hand found his and traced lazy shapes on the back of it. 

After a while, you yawned and said, “It’s getting late… I should probably get going.”

“You are always welcome to stay the night,” Sirius said with a hint of hopefulness in his voice.

“You know I can’t. Not yet.” You looked up at Sirius with a sweet smile. “Walk me out?”

He nodded, standing up and extending his hand to help you up. Sirius opened his bedroom door quietly, looking up and down the hallway and stairs. As you followed him out, you could tell that sneaking around his house was an old habit. It’s evident in how he moves. Only he was escaping from his parents when he was younger; now he’s hiding you from Remus. He pressed a kiss to your forehead before cautiously opening the front door for you to slip out. Grimmauld Place successfully had a visitor without anyone else knowing. 

Within the month, you were visiting Sirius multiple times a week. Sometimes you hung around Remus, just sharing dinner with other members of the Order or having tea. It was easy to brush off you being around Grimmauld Place at times, saying that you don’t want to miss anything so you’re hanging around Order Headquarters. Other times, Sirius came up with various excuses for Remus to not disturb him for the evening and then would slink out of the front door. You’d be waiting around the block, ready to apparate the two of you back to your flat. Sirius often laughed that it reminded him of being young again.

In your flat, you could do more things than you could in Sirius’ room. You cooked together, baked together, watched muggle TV and movies, listened to music, read and just about anything you could think of. It wasn’t going out to shops and restaurants where Sirius ran the risk of being recognized, but it was something. The most difficult part of it was getting Sirius to leave and go back into Grimmauld Place. You understood it the more you knew him. 

Your friends picked up that you were seeing someone, but you kept it quiet. You shared so few details about Sirius that if you hadn’t been spending so much time with him, they might not have believed he existed. He also wasn’t the greatest at putting love bites in places you could cover easily. Good thing your customers didn’t care what you looked like, as long as your product maintained its quality. It did. 

Getting to see Sirius, even if visually platonically, made Order meetings something you could look forward to. No one seemed to question your friendship with Sirius. You assumed it was because you had spent a fair amount of time during missions together at Grimmauld Place. So when Sirius greeted you with a hug before the first November meeting, it didn’t draw anyone's eyes. Except for Severus’. 

Your father frowned deeply at the sight. Like usual, you sat next to Tonks at the meeting. You avoided looking at Severus and only cast Sirius occasional glances. You didn’t want to be too obvious. Periodically throughout the meeting, you felt a presence in your brain; you immediately knew what it was. You cleared your mind and forced Severus out. You put up walls and focused on that for most of the meeting.

“Y/N, we’re going to need you for this one. You, Lupin, Tonks,” Shacklebolt said, ensuring that you three were listening.

You perked up immediately. This was going to be your first real mission and you’d be damned if you messed it up. Without looking, you knew that Sirius was smirking at you and your obvious excitement. You were finally getting in on some of the action. Your excitement only shrank slightly as Shacklebolt went into the mission’s details, but it was still something. 

You talked briefly with Tonks and Remus after the meeting. You needed to make sure you were all on the same page before the actual mission was to take place in a few days. When you turned to find Sirius, hoping to talk to him before you needed to leave, you spotted your father lingering in the hallway outside of the kitchen. You steadily walked up to him.

“Stay out of my head. If I have something to tell you, I will,” you said firmly, looking into his cold, dark eyes. You knew that if you didn’t look him in the eyes, he wouldn’t believe you. 

“Will you?” he drawled.

“Yes.”

Then you continued out the door. If you stayed any longer, Severus might have interrogated you and you’re not sure if you could have kept up a front for all of that. You just hoped that Sirius had enough common sense to go to his room and avoid your dad. Being a Snape, you had a natural ability for Legilimency and Occlumency; being Severus’ daughter, he made sure you knew how to utilize both. He didn’t predict that he would need to use it on you. Sirius, on the other hand, hadn’t been raised by Severus and wasn’t trained in Occlumency as far as you knew. If Severus tried to delve into Sirius’ mind, you weren’t sure what he’d find. 

You didn’t hear anything from Severus in the days leading up to your mission. You also didn’t see Sirius in that time. Any nerves you had about Severus finding out disappeared when you walked into Grimmauld Place to meet Remus and Tonks before your mission. Sirius winked at you before disappearing upstairs. Luckily, Remus and Tonks were chatting in the kitchen so they didn’t witness that. 

The mission, as bland as it was, ended up being a success. You went undetected and obtained the information you needed. It wasn’t great news for the Order, but it was necessary. You hated how you were disappointed that you didn’t have to defend yourself at all, but when you recounted the whole thing to Sirius the next day in his room over American takeaway, he made it feel so action-packed. Then when you told him the mission felt rather boring, he comforted you and said there would be more chances to prove yourself in the future, whether that was for better or worse. 

The week leading up to Christmas was eventful with Arthur Weasley getting attacked while patrolling the Department of Mysteries. Molly and Arthur essentially moved back into Grimmauld Place and when he was released from St. Mungo’s, you were spending more and more time at Grimmauld Place as well. You practically had a permanent potion station set up in the sitting room, ensuring that Arthur never went without a healing potion. While you reminded them that you’re not a healer, you could provide the potions that they needed. 

By the time the Weasleys, Harry and Hermione arrived for their Christmas break, you’re all but living at Grimmauld Place. Fred and George were excited about this. All of them complained about the current Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, which you’d heard things about at Order meetings. Dolores Umbridge wasn’t someone you wanted to meet. 

You tried to keep your distance from Sirius while everyone was around. This was time that Sirius could spend with his godson and you didn’t want to take any of that away from him. There was also a higher risk of someone catching you two together with so many people in the house, including the various members of the Order who popped in. 

“Y/N, can you help me with something upstairs?” Sirius asked you after dinner on Christmas Eve. 

“Erm, yeah. One second,” you replied. 

You were helping Ginny, Tonks and Molly clear the table when he asked. You finished that, wiped your hands on your jeans and followed Sirius out of the kitchen. You grabbed a small package from where you had hid it under your coat as Sirius continued up the stairs.

In the millisecond you looked away from him, he disappeared. You went up the stairs, trying to find where he went, and you wanted to laugh at yourself when you arrived at his room and the door was slightly ajar. 

“Sirius?” you asked softly, pushing the door more open. 

He pulled you into the room and closed the door behind you. On his bed was a wrapped present. 

“Happy Christmas, love” he whispered into your ear before kissing you. 

“Happy Christmas,” you mumbled, smiling into the kiss. 

You kept it brief, not knowing how long you could be hidden in Sirius’ room before people got suspicious. You broke the kiss and revealed your present for him.

“Is it okay if we exchange these up here? I, erm, didn’t get anyone else anything…”

Sirius chuckled at that. “That’s why I brought you up here. I mean, and so I could kiss you. But that’s beside the point.” 

He took the present from your hands and sat on his bed. You sat next to him, picking up the present on the bed and holding it in your lap. He tore into the paper. You watched his face light up as he flipped through a few pages of the book. 

“I wasn’t sure if you’d read it before. Shakespeare is really popular with the muggles and I’ve read this one a few times over. It’s one of his comedies.”

“A Midsummer’s Night Dream, no, I haven’t read this… Thank you,” he said. 

“It’s the same edition I have so, erm, if it’s not too cheesy, I thought we could do a little book club with it? It’s a play so we could plan to read certain scenes before we see each other and then talk about it?”

Sirius set the book down in his lap and held your face so you looked him in the eyes. “I’d love that. And I can’t wait to read it. Really, thank you.” 

You smiled as he leaned in to place a quick peck on your lips. Then he nodded at the present sitting in your lap. 

“Alright, sweetheart, open yours.”

You peeled the tape up carefully, completely different to how Sirius opened your present. There were two boxes placed on top of each other. The smaller one was a green velvet box; inside of it was a silver necklace with a small pendant with an engraved constellation. You held it up to your face to get a closer look. 

“It’s canis major…” Sirius said, sounding nervous for the first time since you’ve met him. “I was debating not giving it to you, though it might be too soon for something like that…”

“It’s beautiful, Sirius. Help me put it on?”

You gave him the necklace before lifting your hair so he could clasp it around your neck. 

“How’s it look?”

“You look perfect.”

You blushed slightly as you returned your gaze to the other box from Sirius. You took the lid off to reveal an embroidered set of dueling gloves. 

“Oh my Merlin…” you muttered as you tried on the left hand glove. “These must’ve cost a fortune!”

“They’re for when you go on more missions.”

For a moment, the two of you sat in silence. You were examining the gloves and Sirius was watching you do so. When you looked up, you pulled him into a hug and whispered thanks into his ear. 

“We should probably head back down though. We’ve been gone for a while,” you sighed. 

“Just one more thing,” Sirius said before kissing you again. 

You giggled into his lips as his hands held your waist. He smiled brightly at you when he pulled away. The book got left in his room. You put on the necklace, tucking the pendant into your shirt as the two of you descended the stairs. Sirius then went ahead to the kitchen while you hid the gloves in your jacket. No one would be any wiser that you and your boyfriend had just exchanged gifts. 

The rest of the evening went by without a hitch and soon enough you were wishing everyone a good night and heading out the door with Tonks. You made sure to give Sirius one last smile before leaving. Before you even got off the stoop, Tonks put her hand on your shoulder.

“Y/N, there something going on between you and Black?” she asked, direct and to the point.

You tilted your head, feigning confusion. Although some of the confusion wasn’t fake – how had she picked up on it when you were being so discrete?

“No? What do you mean?” 

She let her hand fall and shrugged. “Thought I saw a look between you. And he needed your help with that mystery task earlier. Neither of you said what it was.”

“If there’s any look, it’s because we’re friendly. We chat before meetings, when I’m brewing. He makes alright company. And he wanted me to help clean up around my brewing station. No biggie.” 

You really hoped that no one was asking Sirius what the task was. He would likely give them a different answer and then you’d have to explain why. You and Sirius hadn’t actually talked about when you’d tell people that you were seeing each other. You were still sneaking around, albeit part of that was because Sirius wasn’t supposed to be leaving Grimmauld Place. But you exchanged presents in the privacy of his room. That had to mean something. 

You stayed in on Christmas Day, using the day to relax and catch up on stuff around your shop. Between brewing for Arthur, spending time at Grimmauld Place in general and spending time with Sirius, you were letting your stock run lower than you usually liked. It was good for you to catch up beyond just needing to have products on your shelves. You could let your mind go blank when you brewed, or you could use the time to think. 

You did think. You decided that you needed to talk to Sirius about telling people. You couldn’t keep your relationship a secret forever, especially not if you wanted to get serious. You listed off people who would be priority: Harry, Remus, Severus. The big three. And then you’d tell your friends and so on. But those three would need to be the first you told. 

You went over to Grimmauld Place on Boxing Day, and you were greeted with a chorus of voices. You headed straight to the sitting room to brew Arthur’s potions. It didn’t take long for Sirius to find you. You knew he was listening for your arrival. 

“Hey, can we talk about something?” you asked, glancing at the door.

“Oh, um, yeah…” Sirius looked uncertain but closed the door and cast a muffling charm. “What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing’s wrong, per se,” you started slowly, “but Tonks did ask if there was something going on between us. And that got me thinking. It’s been a few months and I don’t want to sneak around forever.”

Sirius’ uncertainty melted into something softer, caring.

You continued, “I think we should tell people soon. Probably start with the Big Three.”

“The Big Three?” he asked with a smirk. He had moved to be standing next to you as you worked on the potion. 

“Yes. Remus. Harry. My dad.” You swallowed thickly. “Frankly, I have a feeling they’ll all hate it but for different reasons.”

Sirius scoffed. “So what if they hate it? They aren’t a part of this.”

“No, they aren’t. But they are large parts of our lives. They are important.”

“Darling, they can get over themselves. What they think isn’t as important as you might think.”

You shook your head, adding some mushroom stems to your cauldron. 

“I don’t want you to push away Remus and Harry for me. I know they mean the world to you. And my dad… Well, he’s family.”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Sirius said, now crouching next to you and gently reaching out to turn your chin toward him. “Remus and Harry do mean a lot to me, but what they think about us, together… It won’t change how I feel about you. And, Y/N, I love you.” 

You stared at him with wide eyes. Neither of you had said that to each other yet. You expected it to come after you told people that you were dating, certainly not before. Sirius’ eyes were searching your face for some reaction. Whether or not you said it back didn’t change how he feels about you, and it wasn’t like he was going to walk away from you. You were asking about telling people so you must’ve been happy with him.

“Love?” he asked after what felt like an eternity of your staring.

“Yeah?” you breathed.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah… Yeah, I’m good.” Your voice came back to you. “I just wasn’t expecting… that.”

Sirius stood up and put his hands in his pockets as he watched you continue to work on the potion.

“So we’ll start telling people,” Sirius said. “Just like if it comes up or is relevant? I mean, unless you want some formal announcement?” 

“Ah… Erm, give me one second,” you said, counting out loud how many times you stirred the cauldron counterclockwise. After you hit twenty, you stood up and barreled to Sirius to hug him. “I love you too,” you murmured into his chest. 

He barely heard it, but he did. You loved him. He placed a soft kiss on the top of your head.

“So, big announcement or casual conversation, love?” 

You looked up at him, eyes sparkling. “Casual conversation and hope that people don’t talk too much.” You chuckled. “Imagine my dad hearing it from Harry or Remus… I don’t think he would ever talk to me again.” 

After that, Sirius opened the door, dissipating the muffling charm. He sat in his usual chair and watched you finish brewing the first potion. You poured it into a bottle, set it off to the side and began preparing for the second potion. Every so often, you looked up to make eye contact with Sirius. You mirrored each other’s wide grins. You were also sporting a subtle blush, that you would blame on the heat of your cauldron if asked about it.

“Oi, Snape, you up there?” George’s voice called from somewhere outside of the sitting room. 

“Yup! Brewing!” you yelled.

Within seconds, the twins entered the room, eyes briefly flicking from you to Sirius and back to you.

“We have questions for you,” Fred said. 

“Alright.” 

You saw Sirius stand up to leave the room out of the corner of your eye. When the twins didn’t acknowledge him leaving, you knew their questions weren’t about your relationship status.

“We’re looking into starting a joke shop in Diagon Alley. Got someone to showing us a few places next week before we head back to school.”

“Oh, that’s brilliant! Be nice to have some younger shopkeeps around.” 

“Yeah. We were wondering if you’d come along? Make sure the rents and such sound okay?” George asked.

“Erm, yeah. Just tell me what day and I’ll make sure I’m available.”

“And we want to pick your brain on some business plans,” George continued.

“I’m here all the time. You can pick my brain now, later, whenever. Even when you go back to school, you can write me.” 

“Fantastic,” Fred said before launching into questions about how reliable their business plan was sounding. 

You delivered the finished potions to Arthur and Molly and got roped into a game of exploding snap. You ended up staying at Grimmauld Place longer than you originally intended. They insisted you stay for dinner. And that led to several bottles of elfmade wine being drained along with you flaunting your ability to craft delicious cocktails. 

You hadn’t planned on drinking that much, but the energy of the night kept you drinking glass after glass. You hit a point where you were in no state to walk or apparate home. You tried to leave but Sirius stopped you.

“Y/N, love, you’re staying here tonight. Come on,” he muttered, face close to your ear. 

Then he helped you upstairs and to his room. You collapsed onto his bed before he could even close the door behind him. Sirius dug through his closet until he found something you could sleep in. He helped you change, despite your protests that you were now too comfy to even move, and then he tucked you under the covers. He kissed your forehead as you drifted. 

When you woke up, you were disoriented. You didn’t immediately recognize the sheets. You certainly didn’t recognize the clothes you were wearing. But you knew the arm that was draped over your middle and when you actually looked around you, it dawned on you that you were in Sirius’ room. You had spent the night. Your headache was a reminder of how much you actually drank last night. 

“Morning, beautiful,” Sirius said groggily. 

“Good morning,” you said, rolling over so you could see his face. “Hmm, this is something I could get used to…”

“What is? Waking up hungover?”

“No… Waking up next to you.”

Sirius smiled, pulling you into his chest. “I certainly don’t mind it.”

When you rolled out of bed, Sirius dug through his closet and armoire to find you something else to wear. You told him you could wear yesterday’s clothing, but he insisted on finding you fresh clothes. Once dressed, you headed downstairs for breakfast. You didn’t even consider that the rest of the house might be up. 

“Y/N? I didn’t hear you come in,” Remus said when you sat down at the table. 

“Oh, um…” You struggled to answer.

“Actually, I don’t recall you leaving last night. Did you sleep here?” Fred asked, pointing his fork at you.

“I-”

“You did!” Fred exclaimed. “You so did!” 

“Where’d you even sleep?” George asked.

Sirius’ room. Nope. You couldn’t just say that. Yes, you said that you would tell people about your relationship with Sirius. Breakfast with Remus, George, Fred, Ginny and Hermione didn’t feel like the right time.

“My room,” Sirius answered for you. “Turns out I have a very comfortable floor. Who would’ve thought?” 

“Right…” Remus said, taking in that you were wearing Sirius’ clothes.

Remus had known Sirius for too long; he knows that Sirius hates sleeping anywhere but a bed. There was no chance that Sirius slept on the floor. He let the topic drop for breakfast but made a mental note to talk to Sirius about it later. 

When everyone scattered throughout the house doing their own things, Remus found Sirius in his room with the door open. He was reading the book you got him for Christmas. Remus stepped into the room, closing the door behind him with a soft click.

“Did you shag her?” His voice was quiet but steady. 

Sirius didn’t even look up from his book. “No.”

He knew Remus meant last night – that was the only thing keeping his answer from being a lie. Remus narrowed his eyes at Sirius. He was searching for Sirius’ tells, but there weren’t any. 

“So she just slept in your bed. And you slept on the floor.” 

“I… may have been in the bed with her. But we didn’t shag.” 

Remus tutted. “She’s Snape’s kid.” 

“And?” 

“You’ve been getting close with her.”

“I have. We’re quite close. It happens when you spend a lot of time with someone,” Sirius stated, closing his book. “I’d say I’m rather close with you too.”

Remus stayed quiet for a moment as he studied Sirius. He shook his head.

“You’re not telling me something.”

“What am I not telling you?” Sirius asked, unable to prevent his smirk from forming.

“Merlin, she’s Snape’s kid!”

“Moony, what are you asking?”

“Are you… Merlin, Padfoot… Please tell me you’re not.”

Sirius barked a laugh. “We are.”

“You have to be kidding me… Fuck…” Remus ran a frustrated hand down his face, briefly turning away from Sirius. “How long has this been… a thing?”

“Few months.”

“Months?”

“Months.”

“That’s why she’s been spending so much time here.”

“Part of it, yeah.”

“Who all knows?”

“You.”

Remus choked on air. “Me? That’s it?”

“We’re getting ready to tell people. Just waiting for the right time.”

“You… You should not be so relaxed about this! I’m sorry, Pads, but I don’t see how it lasts. And, Merlin, this is Snively’s kid. You know that, right?”

“I’m very aware. She wants to be the one to tell him, so don’t go bringing it up.”

“That’s the best plan for your survival…” 

“So, you good? Or do you need to yell at me?”

“I… I… I don’t know,” Remus stuttered. “Just… ugh. I don’t know. It feels wrong.”

“Not to us.”

“That… doesn’t help.”

Remus walked out of Sirius’ room. Sirius picked up his book with a small smile playing at his lips. One person down, two to go. 

tags: @navs-bhat, @bruxa0007, @c0ldstvff, @corawithfanfiction

[officialnostradamus]

It's Time For...

My headcanon about Johanna Hezenkoss & Emmrich Volkarin's relationship. Which nobody asked for BUT that's what tumblr is for.

Now, hear me out, I am thoroughly enraptured by the collective fandom brain that says Emmrich was Down Bad, and Johanna was too busy being a Bad Bitch to care about his feelings. In at least one universe each, you're all 100% right, and I respect you for it. However, I posit an alternative and beseech you to go on this journey with me. I want to explore a woman who does not have a singular mind for a man, who carves her own way through life with a diamond-headed sickle, but who still thinks about him enough to hate him. A woman who sees obsession as a way of life and treats him as just another in a long line. 

Our gentleman necromancer is the kind of man who falls in love at the drop of the hat. A man of a million heartbreaks. Emmrich has fallen in love with every person he's ever been on a date with. He has fallen in love with a woman selling flowers from a cart because she told him the species, though he already knew, and he fell in love with the man he met in the lift because their hands brushed when they reached for the lever and he had a beautiful laugh. That's simply how he is. 

To someone like Johanna, that is a paltry weakness. Worthy of scorn if not outright mockery (and, let's face it, usually outright mockery). Johanna is a woman of barbed emotions, they stick in her mind as they catch upon thought and idea and they do not become action. She doesn't have time for them when she could be bringing her brilliance to life. 

As students, Emmrich is in awe of her. Passionate, intelligent people are his favourite to be around and Johanna has them both in spades. She is fearless and unfettered by the law of man or magic. Daring and dauntless are also qualities Emmrich finds commendable, and on paper he should have been in love in an instant. He could have been in love. But Johanna is something else, too.

Johanna is also cruel. There are so many things that Emmrich, in the sweeping nature of his own passion, can look past. Selfishness can be self-determination. Recklessness can be bravery. Even the willingness to defy the laws and responsibilities he personally holds so dearly can be novel, an experimentation, the base of all new discovery. But cruelty is, perhaps, one of his only staunch nos. 

To think of it in simple terms - Emmrich is the one to see a starving kitten and whisk them into his arms to find them food and shelter. He loves to see someone else do the same. He can understand the person who walks past. He can forgive even the person who left them there to begin with. He cannot abide the person who laughs. 

Johanna laughs.

For Emmrich, this is easy enough. He does not fall in love and he needn't do so. Johanna is still a valued colleague and, somehow, he enjoys her company. Even if they don't see eye to eye, she is still all of those other qualities he gazes fondly upon and they don't have to agree to have spirited conversations and to learn from each other.

For Johanna, this is a slight. This is inexplicable. This is enough to burrow an emotion past the rest and what she feels is confusion - and that is so much worse than anything else it could be. Johanna knows that she is perfection personified and even if she doesn't want Volkarin, why doesn't he want her?

Johanna is clever, and desirable, and if she's in the mood for a lover it's easy enough to find one. She knows how to crook her finger. Sure, she's intimidating and she can just as easily send them running as keep them coming, but it works for her. 

Except not with Volkarin.

Every fortnight or so she sees him doe eyed and dreamy over some fellow student - once, even a visiting Chantry Sister! - and yet he has never looked at her that way. When they stay up all hours of the night, researching their shared love of magic, studying for an exam, performing an experiment, he treats her with kindness and respect. Gross. He exclaims appropriately about her brilliance. Deserved. And he never strays from the bounds of their strange friendship. Unnerving.

Worse, still, he doesn't even seem to realize that they're rivals! Both of them sit at the top of any class they're in, trading number one back and forth in a constant dead heat. When she is number one, Volkarin congratulates her! He gasps in awe at her impressive work. He even stills his tongue in front of others when he believes she may have cheated. Later, alone, when he calls her on it he is gentle. He offers to help, tells her that he will always be willing to help. She can only laugh at him. Because that is pathetic, and condescending, and she is cruel. 

It turns out that when he's hurt, his wet doe eyes aren't all that different from when he's a besotted fool. 

Their relationship is always like this. They drift apart, eventually as students, but are thrust back together as members of the Mourn Watch. Johanna is never less intelligent, never less driven, and Emmrich is never less kind. He supports her when he can and challenges her when he must. He wants what's best for her, and for the Mourn Watch. 

She wants the same things. 

When her twisted experiments and refusal to follow the rules finally ends in her dismissal from the Mourn Watch, she is furious. Emmrich is sad. For a while, he sends her letters, and they say the same things he always has. He wants to help. He will help. He cares about her. Johanna responds to exactly one. 

Volkarin,

You have always been a mewling, pitiful little creature with no backbone. Impressive, considering how easy it would have been to graft one to yourself. If you conquer one fear in your miserable life, let it be the one that forces you to keep talking when you should be quiet.

It's the one Emmrich doesn't respond to. It is short. It is cruel and their bond finally severs, a task Johanna thought impossible. He wants to help. He will help. Until he doesn't. Emmrich Volkarin never follows through on anything. Emmrich is fearful and petulant and compassionate to a fault. And he has finally had enough of her.

That's fine. They were never friends, always rivals, and he never loved her because he was too cowardly to truly see her. She knows this now and that is why she relegates Emmrich Volkarin to a footnote. Part of the past and not her glorious future. It is by nature of the beast that there is no one around to point out, no one that cares enough to notice, that she doesn't need the same footnote on every page.

**Thanks for coming to my Ted Talk. I am a lunatic. I'll be on tumblr all night - actually, for the rest of ever 😘

[razorblade180]

For a lifetime

Hu Tao:You’re thinking about proposing to Ke- *mouth covered*

Aether:Shhhh! Don’t yell so loudly. Yes, I am. *removes hand* I was hoping you can tell me about proposals in Liyue.

Hu Tao:Aww, how sweet. I could but…this feels more like Zhongli’s expertise. Why ask a funeral director of all people for wedding advice?

Aether:Because you’re unorthodox and Keqing is many ways is unconventional. A modern can bring a modern perspective.

Hu Tao:Ooo I like the logic, though it’s really not that complex of a situation. This may be the new age of mortals but as you know, Liyue revels in lots of traditional practices. Many people still offer gifts between the two families as a proposal, or a special tea ceremony.

Aether:Any jewelry?

Hu Tao:Certain cuts of gold carved into betrothal symbols or in some cases, unique pieces. They could be earrings, a specific necklace ornament, hair piece, rings are gaining popularity. Keqing is on the move so I’d recommend something that doesn’t get in the way.

Aether:Hmmm. I see.

Hu Tao:Hehe, I think you’re overthinking things. I’m positive she’d like whatever you did.

Aether:Doesn’t mean I shouldn’t try. I’ve read a little about those ceremonies, but it’s not like I have a household or parents.

Hu Tao:Hmm, that is true. Now that you mention it, Keqing’s family members are few and far between.

Aether:..What would you want?

Hu Tao:Huh? Me?

Aether:Yeah. We’re in a bit of similar situation. The member of your household is you, but you’re fond of traditions when it calls for them. How would you handle a tea ceremony?

Hu Tao:Oh, I wouldn’t. Same with the gift exchange. It’s not all that necessary in my case. Even if my grandpa and dad were around, I probably wouldn’t want such a grand fuss; even I get embarrassed. Though I might go through with it to see their eyes water with joy.

Aether:That sounds about right.

Hu Tao:Haha! What can I say? You’re right about me being unorthodox. *rubs chin* A proposal fit for me isn’t as crazy as you might be assuming. Honestly…*smiles gently* If I were to dream for a moment, all I would really want would be…

xxxxxxxx

At the top of Mt. Aocang, Chongyun revels in the crisp night air against his skin as he meditates near Cloud Retainers abode, striving for a strong and balanced connection with himself to become a better exor-

Hu Tao:Chongyun!!! Yooohooo! Are you here~

Chongyun:…*opens eyes*

Hu Tao:*slides into view* Aha! Found you. Training with your aunt again?

Chongyun:We finished a while ago. I was calming down more than anything. Something wrong?

Hu Tao:Nope! I have a secret I must share with at least one person or else I’ll explode! Xiangling folds under pressure and Xingqui isn’t as subtle as he pretends to be. That leave my ever reliable exorcist.

Chongyun:Is Zhongli getting married?

Hu Tao:Nope! But Aether is gonna propose to Keqing!

Chongyun:He- wow I was kinda close. Hope it goes well. *stands up* Hold on. Let me get my hood and belongings inside the abode, then we can walk while we talk. *walks away*

Hu Tao:An excellent idea! I’ll even throw in a dinner. Remember, tell no one! You should’ve seen him! He looked so nervous asking questions!

Chongyun:He asked you for wedding advice?

Hu Tao:Pfft, okay. I get why it’s weird but you don’t have to ask surprised. *looks at the water* He was looking for an unconventional touch. *sits down*

Chongyun:What was your unconventional answer?

Hu Tao:I told him to schedule an interview to be her assistant! She’d be so confused but it’ll allow time where she’s technically free. Instead of a résumé’ for office qualifications, it’s for a husband! Knowing her sense of humor, Keqing will smile ear to ear!

Chongyun:…

Hu Tao:*turns head* Hey, I can’t see you but I know judgment when it’s happening.

Chongyun:You really one of a kind. That’s all.

Hu Tao: We both know Keqing doesn’t do vacations and is incredibly smart. You got to catch her by surprise!

Chongyun:Should I be taking notes?

Hu Tao:Ha! You could try, but wouldn’t that be a little obvious in my case? You’re so routine I knew where to find you. If you switch up, I’d notice.

Chongyun:Yeah I guess it would be a little difficult getting the right flowers under your nose.

Hu Tao:Exactly! Wait, flowers? How did you-

Her question was interrupted as Chongyun walked out fully dressed and blushing as he held holding a large bouquet of Glaze Lilies mixed with Spider Lilies. Hu Tao immediately stands up, speechless as a thousand thoughts show on her face with half smiles and eyes unsure to settle on shock or tears while her heart suddenly felt loud.

Chongyun:Y’know when Aether came back and told, I couldn’t help but want to kick myself a little. Not only is this so obviously you, these flowers perfectly describe my feelings towards you.

Hu Tao:*twirls thumbs* I uhhh. A-Aether isn’t proposing to Keqing, is he?

Chongyun:No, at least not tonight if anything. Me however… Hu Tao, these flowers say it best. I love you to the end, and want a lifetime of memories with you. All the ones we already have, they make it all but impossible to only say “we’re dating” or “my girlfriend.” You’re so much more than that for me. We don’t have to rush to the official day, but if you feel like I do, will you let me be all yours? Can I call you my-

Wings fluttered around him; the family warmth of fluttering butterflies graced his presence while warm lips pressed against his. Shaky, but loving hands took the flowers before wrapping around his body. As Hu Tao leaned deeper into her answer, Chongyun could feel her tears kiss his face. When she was satisfied with the kiss, he saw the biggest and most beautiful eyes overflowing.

Hu Tao:Looks like I’ve rubbed off on you, hehe. Chongyun, this is…are you sure? Latern Rite was a good example of how crazy things can get with me.

Chongyun:Things have always been crazy with you. Hasn’t stopped me before. *holds her closer* You’re stuck with me.

His forehead pressed gently against her own, making her heart swell and lips lean in for another kiss. Hu Tao didn’t like to admit it, but she had forgotten the possibility of once again being apart of a family bigger than herself long ago. Now here was this boy she teased about his job, now asking her to be in the family tree. A household bigger than herself. It was terrifying, yet such a relief deep down. He didn’t want to leave her alone, and that dispelled more negativity than any rite or yang energy ever could.

Hu Tao: Hehehe.

Chongyun:What’s so funny?

Hu Tao:It’s just that knowing you, you’ve put so much thought into this that I bet there’s something you didn’t consider. Did you tell your parents you were doing this?

Chongyun:…I mean they love completely. What’s one less tea ceremony?

Hu Tao:Oh boy. You truly are a perfect mess. My adorable fiancé. Yes, the answer is yes.

She watched his eyes light up before spinning her. Chongyun pulled out a small present from his inner pocket. It was too long be a ring box. Instead, it opened to be a golden version of the blossoms on her cherished hat.

Hu Tao:There’s no way you got this made today!

Chongyun:Correct. It’s one of the few things I was certain about. You like your rings and I didn’t want to mess with that or add something you weren’t used to.

Hu Tao:I would’ve replaced a ring in a heartbeat. As you can see, unorthodox clearly doesn’t mean I’m no romantic.

Chongyun:May I do the honors?

Hu Tao nodded eagerly before keeping her head low enough for him to place the ornament. She couldn’t help but go over to the water and admire the new addition to her cherished gift. Eyes began watering again and her giggles slipped out easily. The moment Chongyun joined her at the pond, Hu Tao jumped right back into his arms with fever joy that brought laughter to both of them.

Shenhe:*behind a tree* It appears things turned out rather well. That’s good. I fear offering emotional support for this would be beyond me; even with your help. Good job on the breeze, master.

Xianyun:*sniffling*

Shenhe:Master?

Xianyun:Look away Shenhe! One does not wish to be seen like this! *covers face*

xxxxxx

Aether:*sipping tea*

Keqing:Sorry I’m a little late! * sits down* Work got a little busy as usual.

Aether:Your fine. Food is on its way. I ordered your favorite.

Keqing:Thanks. So, anything crazy happen today?

Aether:*smiles* Nah, not really. You know me, always helping around.

[loveesiren]

Ooh i saw your message about you almost stopping requests for your follower milestone

So (hopefully just on time) can I get a blurp with Daesung with the prompts

❛ your heart is beating so fast right now. ❜

❛ promise me you’ll still be here when i wake up.

Hope you have a great time writing and I look forward to the rest of the requests you received for this! <3

Thank you baby!! This one got kinda long lol I hope you enjoy!

Vali's 1500 Celebration (CLOSED)

warnings: brief mention of cheating, fluff

wc: 1.7k+

“He cheated again, Dae!” you sobbed into the phone, your voice breaking. “I can’t take it anymore! Why does he keep doing this? Why am I never enough?!”

Daesung’s chest tightened as he stood frozen in the middle of the studio, your words hitting him like a punch to the gut. God, he hated hearing you like this—broken, questioning your worth because of some selfish bastard who never appreciated you. His jaw clenched.

“You are enough, Y/n,” he said softly but firmly, his voice shaking with restrained emotion. “You’ve always been more than enough. He’s a fucking idiot. He never deserved you for a second.”

The rest of the boys had gone quiet, glancing at Daesung. Jiyong caught his eye and mouthed, What happened?

Daesung didn’t respond. He couldn’t. Not when he could still hear your cries—raw and fragile—on the other end of the line. He turned his back to the group, heart crumbling with every sob that reached his ears.

They knew. Everyone knew. Daesung had been in love with you since the day you walked into their lives, all sunshine and sarcasm and a laugh that made everything feel lighter. And now, hearing you in pieces? It lit something inside him.

“Y/n, listen to me,” he said gently, as if his voice alone could wrap around you and hold you together. “I’m coming over. Right now. You’re not alone, okay? I’ve got you.”

You sniffled, your breath catching. “O-okay…”

The call ended, but Daesung stared at his phone for a second longer, jaw tight, lips pressed into a line.

“Is she okay?” Taeyang asked quietly from across the room.

“No,” Daesung muttered. “But she will be.” His eyes darkened. “I’m gonna kill that motherfucker.”

He grabbed his hoodie and stormed out of the studio.

—

You dragged yourself off the couch when the knock came at the door, cheeks still damp, heart still aching. But when you opened it, the sight in front of you unraveled you all over again.

Daesung stood there, a little out of breath, his hoodie slightly askew. In one hand, a bouquet of blushing pink roses. In the other, a grocery bag overflowing with all your favorites—chocolate-covered pretzels, spicy chips, that ice cream you could never find at the convenience store.

“Dae…” you breathed, tears spilling faster now as you threw yourself into his arms without hesitation.

He caught you instantly, wrapping you up like he’d never let you go. His chin rested gently on your head, and you could feel his heartbeat thudding against your cheek.

“I’m so sorry, Y/n…” he whispered, one hand cradling the back of your head as the other slowly stroked your back. “You didn’t deserve any of this.”

You didn’t speak. You couldn’t. You just clung to him, your fingers twisting in the fabric of his hoodie like he was the only thing tethering you to the ground.

He held you until your sobs softened into sniffles. Then he gently pulled back to look at you—your red, puffy eyes, tear-stained cheeks, messy hair—and his gaze only softened further.

“You’re still the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen,” he murmured, thumb brushing a tear from your cheek.

You gave him a weak smile. “You’re full of it.”

He laughed, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Maybe. But I’m right.”

You followed him inside, heart a little lighter, as he dropped the snacks on the coffee table and tugged you toward the couch.

“How about we rot on the couch all day? Ice cream, movies, and absolutely no talk of fuckboys.”

You blinked at him, surprised. “Aren’t you supposed to be recording this week?”

He shrugged and pulled you down onto the cushions beside him. “It can wait. Right now, you need me more.”

Your heart melted at that.

Halfway through the first movie, you shifted closer to Daesung, letting your head rest against his chest as you slid an arm around his waist. His warmth instantly soothed something aching deep inside you.

Daesung froze for a second, caught completely off guard. His heart was thudding so violently it felt like it might leap out of his chest. But then, slowly, he relaxed into your touch, his arm wrapping around you in return. His fingers found the ends of your hair, gently twirling them as if memorizing the feel of you.

You smiled against him, the sound of his rapid heartbeat filling your ears. It wasn’t exactly a secret that Daesung liked you. Everyone around you could see it. But what no one knew—what he didn’t know—was that you liked him back. Maybe even loved him back. You were just too afraid. Too unsure. Afraid that you'd hurt him the way others had hurt you. Afraid that your broken pieces might cut him in the process.

“Your heart’s beating so fast right now…” you murmured, voice low, amused. “Why is that?” you asked as you tilted your chin up to look at him, your cheek brushing softly against his hoodie.

He chuckled, though the blush on his face betrayed him. “It’s not every day I get to cuddle with pretty girls,” he said, his tone light but his gaze anything but.

You smirked. “Smooth.”

He grinned, but the moment hung heavy in the air even as the movie played on. His heartbeat never calmed, and you couldn’t help but wonder what was racing through his mind. You didn’t know what came over you—maybe it was the comfort of his touch, or how safe he always made you feel—but your thoughts slipped out before you could stop them.

“Dae?”

“Yeah?” he answered, still absently running his fingers through your hair.

“You know you could do better than me, right? Like… way better.”

He stiffened slightly, and you sat up, forcing yourself to meet his eyes.

“Why would you say something like that?” he asked, his brows knitting in confusion.

You hesitated. “Because you’re the best guy I’ve ever met. You’re patient, kind, thoughtful—you make people feel seen. And I… I’m just the girl with too much baggage and a history of dating assholes. I don’t know why you still put up with me.”

His expression darkened, but not with anger—just with pain. Pain that you couldn’t see what he saw.

“Y/n,” he said gently. “You’re not baggage. You’re my best friend. My favorite person in the whole damn world. And I don’t ‘put up’ with you. I choose you. Every day. Even when you don’t believe you deserve it.”

Your throat tightened at his words.

“Every man I’ve dated has treated me like I was disposable. Like I was never worth the effort,” you said, your voice wavering. “And you… you’re the first one who hasn’t. But that makes it even harder to believe I deserve it.”

He paused. You could tell he was weighing something—his hands stilled in your hair, his eyes scanning your face as if trying to memorize every piece of you.

“Maybe now’s not the right time,” he said slowly, “but if I wait any longer, I think I’ll regret it.”

You blinked. “Wait for what?”

“To show you,” he whispered. “Let me show you how someone like you is supposed to be loved. Gently. Honestly. Completely.”

His words hit you like a wave, catching you off guard, unraveling all the walls you’d tried so hard to keep up. Before your brain could catch up to your heart, you leaned forward and kissed him.

His lips were soft, hesitant for only a moment before he melted into you, his fingers tangling in your hair with the same tenderness he’d always shown you. It was sweet, slow, and filled with so much unspoken emotion that it nearly broke you.

When you finally pulled away, you looked into his eyes—glassy and awestruck, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” he breathed.

Your smile mirrored his as you climbed into his lap, arms wrapped around his neck, and kissed him again—this time a little deeper, a little more certain.

The rest of the afternoon passed in soft touches and stolen kisses. Nothing more. No need to rush. You were finally allowing yourselves to feel, to be, and that was more than enough.

For the first time, you weren’t thinking about who had broken you. You were just thinking about who was holding you together.

And it felt perfect.

-

By the time fell, the weight of the day had finally started to lift from your shoulders. Sleep tugged at your limbs, heavy and comforting, and your eyelids fluttered as you rested against Daesung’s chest, his steady heartbeat lulling you closer to unconsciousness.

“You ready for bed?” he whispered against your forehead, his breath warm against your skin.

“Mmhmm,” you murmured, barely lifting your eyes.

With careful ease, Daesung shifted. His arms slipped beneath you, lifting you up effortlessly as if you weighed nothing to him. He carried you to the bedroom without a word, the soft creak of the floorboards and the faint rustle of the blanket the only sounds in the room.

He lowered you onto the bed with the same gentleness he used when handling his most precious instruments, pulling the blanket over your body and smoothing it out like he’d done it a thousand times before.

“Goodnight, pretty girl,” he whispered, his voice barely audible in the stillness.

Your lashes fluttered as your lips parted. “Dae…”

“Yeah?” he asked, already starting to turn toward the door.

“Will you sleep with me tonight?”

He froze for a second, and then that familiar soft smile stretched across his face. “Of course.”

He peeled off his hoodie, tossing it gently aside, then climbed into bed beside you. The mattress dipped slightly under his weight, and the moment his arms wrapped around you, everything in your body seemed to exhale. You tucked yourself into his chest, your legs tangling with his as he pulled you closer, his hand resting warm and steady on your waist.

In his embrace, the world didn’t feel quite so heavy. It felt distant. Quiet. Safe.

“Promise me you’ll still be here when I wake up?” you asked, voice small and thick with sleep.

Daesung kissed your temple softly, lingering for a moment like he never wanted to pull away. “I’ll be right here,” he said. “I’m not going anywhere. Ever.”

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding, sinking deeper into him. You fell asleep knowing someone would be there in the morning—with arms wide open and love already waiting.

[shiny-kaibernyte]

((Spoilers))

Just a warning that this could be a spoiler if you haven't read the ending of MHA yet but, you think you could do headcanons for Shinso x reader where they're adults and he's a hero now and the reader is a civilian and welcomes him home every day? Thanks!

I am not the biggest Shinso fan, i must admit but for you darling i shall do this. Perhaps writing this will inspire me to re-watch MHA never know my opinion may change.

This may be a bit rusty, i tried my best to picture what he'd be like in a more domestic setting so i hope i did alright. Throw a grenade at me if i'm wrong.

Shinso Headcannons | Domestic life (kinda)

Shinso is an underground hero, much like Aizawa he prefers to work in the shadows, avoiding the public limelight as much as possible. However this also means his private life is impossible to figure out, coming home to you is the best part of his day because not only can he come home to you, but it's the only time he truly has a moment to collect his thoughts and just breath.

More often than not when he comes home, Shinso is the one to start up a conversation. The topics he brings up vary from day to day. Usually it's asking how your day was or telling you about the mission he just went on or perhaps something strange he saw out and about. Sometimes though he randomly starts talking about different cat breeds going in extreme detail about them. He does this when he’s most stressed.

An extremely bad habit of his both on the field and at home is this man has zero idea when to stop. He’s had to prove himself his whole entire life from being calling him an underdog to an unholy villain. Seems old habits die hard. As soon as he comes home no matter how tired he is, the first thing he does is some form of house work. He's even taking over the workload from you no matter how much you protest or tell him to lie down and rest. Shinso is determined to prove himself to you as your husband and your hero.

Don’t worry he has a weakness though, a small trick you learnt to get him to listen to you when he does this. It's your stare. Specifically your disappointed-cross stare. He can feel it even if you're behind him or in the next room through a doorway. That stare of yours is lethal to him. When he feels it he puts down whatever he's doing, hands in the air with the look of a guilty kitten. It's the one and only time you can get him to lay down and not fuss or drag you with him.

His love language is Quality time, the conversations he shares with you, memories he makes. Those moments are the ones he holds dear to his heart. Even before you started dating, he remembers every conversation the two of you had, sometimes he brings up something from years ago. The face you make when he catches you off guard is his favourite. Shinso thinks it's adorable so tries to do it a lot whenever he;s had a rough day.

He may be a pro hero now but he still has the same tendencies from when he was in UA. One of your personal favourites is whenever he's nervous or has something to tell you that he's ashamed of, He’ll rub the back of his neck and avoid looking you in the eye at all costs. It's the only time he stutters over his words also. Normally he's very stoic and straightforward but if he's nervous, he's a mumbling mess falling over his words trying oh so very hard not to sound like an idiot.

His phone is always open to you, he has nothing to hide from you, you’re his partner, his love. What he has is yours so he expects the very same. He will NEVER snoop through your things or disrespect your privacy, he values space and privacy ALOT But he also wants you to know he's open to you, there's nothing he will hide from you. So please don’t hide anything from him either.

When it comes to pet names they are rare but he does have his favourites. My love, Dearest and Darling are his go to’s. Something simple but meaningful.

Whilst he isn’t a very cuddly person, he does adore his nights with you especially if you have a movie night. Having you wrapped in his arms and him in yours is a treasured moment to him. A moment he feels safe, as if he could stop time itself.

You are both his greatest weakness and his greatest strength. Shinso will go to any length to protect you, even death. He would kill for you if that's what it took. He may be a hero but to him, he is nothing without you. Although he never has. Shinso hates the idea of being seen as a villain or ‘evil’ so it really is a last resort for him to do that.

He will NEVER use his quirk on you, but he will gladly share some of the things he’s found when mind controlling a villain, he has found out some weird things. 

Yes you have cats. Deal with it.

[targaryenfelikayt]

headcanons: joint trip. |The Sinclair Brothers|

wc: 1,029 summary: this installment of road trip headcanons showcases three very different sides of the Sinclair brothers - Bo, Vincent, and Lester - as they go on a road trip with you. tags/warnings: very fluffy fluff, lots of romance (not typical for movies), a trip for two, a bit of realism. note: if you read this in Russian, then yes, I am translating my works into English.

Bo Sinclair.

— Before heading anywhere, he always makes sure everything under the hood is in perfect order, and the tires have been changed. The car’s condition is important to him — can’t risk getting stranded on some highway like a few of the victims did. So while still at home, Bo checks every detail. No exaggeration. Literally every single one, without exception.

— Once he’s satisfied the metal beast is roadworthy, he tosses the packed bags into the trunk. Then, after buckling your seatbelt himself, he circles the car and slips into the driver’s seat.

— Half-jokingly, he’ll suggest you hold the wheel while he searches for his cigarettes. But once he realizes there’s only one left, he slips into that strange state somewhere between frustration and despair.

— At the gas station, he starts pestering the local clerk: Is the fuel watered down? Why does the oil smell funny? What do you mean you’re out of his brand of smokes? You’ll practically have to drag him out by the arm before someone ends up bleeding (and honestly, it’s unclear who would start it first).

— Then comes his little ritual again — Bo leans in to fasten your seatbelt with deliberate care, only returning to his seat once he’s done.

"Baby, I just don’t wanna replace the damn windshield if some asshole causes a wreck," he mutters, adjusting his cap as he shifts the mirror and tries to look effortlessly cool.

He’ll never say it’s your safety he’s worried about — the only real threat here is him.

— Be ready for Sinclair to drive with one hand, the other wandering between shifting gears and letting his fingers graze your thigh. Gentle, steady touches — always within reach.

— And don’t be surprised when that hand occasionally moves higher, teasing with soft strokes. He likes seeing the way you unconsciously hold your breath when he does that — it gives his ego a little boost. Bo just can’t bring himself to deny that little indulgence.

— Hours into the drive, he’s still riding the high of cicadas singing and the sharp tang of the night air. It makes him feel alive — and maybe, just maybe, like he could do something right for once. He’s done plenty of things others would call wrong, sure, but right now? Everything’s just fine.

— After all, if there’s still a pack of cigarettes in your pocket — today can’t be that bad, right?

Vincent Sinclair.

— Vincent settles into the back seat, perfectly content to spend the ride in quiet comfort.

— But first, he takes care of packing the suitcases — everything arranged with such precision and spatial logic that you can’t help but wonder if he secretly played Tetris while the wax was cooling on his future creations.

— He enjoys the scenery outside the window, holding your hand the whole time. If something especially catches his eye, he’ll try to sketch it in his notebook.

— Of course, the motion will eventually get to him. His inner ear’s not the best. And while he’s trying to steady his breath, you’re tearing through the bags he’d packed so carefully, looking for the right pills — and not finding them.

— He ends up spending the rest of the trip in the front seat, staring straight ahead with a bottle of water clutched in hand. He knows it’ll be at least another hour before the next town.

— Passing a field of sunflowers, Vincent insists on stopping again — subtly, politely, but with a kind of quiet determination. The massive yellow blooms draw him in like magnets. He disappears among them, wandering from one flower to the next.

"Vince, we need to go unless you wanna sleep in the car. If you really like it," you gesture to a sunflower that looks exactly like all the others, "take it with you." He mumbles something that sounds both like agreement and protest, then leans in to press waxen lips to your forehead before turning back toward the field.

— Two minutes later, he comes jogging back, clutching a sunflower—roots and all. You're informed, in no uncertain terms, that it’s now your duty to plant it by the front door when you get home.

— Now he’s not afraid of anything. Unless, of course, the plant dies. Then you’ll have to throw it away — and that’s a nightmare he’d rather not face.

Lester Sinclair.

— He’s ready to go anywhere, anytime. Just say the word, and he’s already starting the engine — even if it’s the middle of the damn night.

— Unlike his brothers, Lester actually prefers riding in the truck bed or the open-back area, stretching out like he owns the place.

— First thing he does is throw all the snacks back there with him, devouring half the stash in the first leg of the trip. After that, he turns into Donkey from Shrek, hitting you with a constant, “Are we there yet?” — even though he knows every roadside diner in the state by heart.

— When the speedometer needle starts climbing in direct correlation to your rising temper, he finally shuts up and pretends like he doesn’t even exist.

— But of course, he pipes up again the moment nature calls — and all you’ve got around are endless stretches of farmland. He takes the opportunity to "multi-task," stealing as many ears of corn as he can carry — in his hands, shirt, and shorts. What a resourceful man. Always thinking of the homestead.

— Long trips aren’t easy for him. The wait alone is enough to dissolve whatever tiny bit of focus he has. But he really tries not to annoy you out of sheer boredom.

— Eventually, he flicks on the radio in hopes of livening things up — and naturally ends up singing along. And then he surprises you again, dropping random backstories about the old songs he likes best. "How do you even know that?" He just shrugs.

— By 9 PM, when you finally pull into a diner parking lot, hunger hits him all at once. He’s the first one out of the car.

"You city folks ain’t never had cherry fritters this juicy," he says, and soon the tray in front of you is overflowing with local delicacies — half of which look nothing like anything you’ve ever seen at home or in a restaurant. At least there’s French fries. You won’t go hungry. And Lester? Already eating like he’s feeding twins.