#and then i saw his official art the next day n i was like. no WAY thats rolan he looks way too cool and chill in that.

[luck-of-the-drawings]

THIS IS HUMANITIES 11TH HOUR I THINK KIAN WAS RIGHT. THERE WAS SO MUCH HE COULD HAVE DONE BETTER BUT HE DID IT FOR GREAT REASON. THEIR RELATIONSHIP MAKES ME SO EMOTIONAL. EVEN THE ECHO OF SOMEONE IS IN LOVE WITH YOU, AND THE ECHO OF YOU LOVES THEM TOO. they COPIED A HUMAN DOWN TO THEIR BASIC CIRCUTRY AS A SURVIVAL INSTINCT AND THE VERY WIRES STILL LOVE YOU. ITS THE ATMOSPHERE. ITS THE DISCORDANT AND SAD YET YEARNING CORDS IN THE AIR AS THE SKY REDDENS. ITS A WISH FOR SOMETHING MORE, PRESSING AGAINST INEVITABLE GLASS, CLEARLY NO HOPE OF CONTINUING OR BLOSSOMING. A PAINTING OF A MEMORY THEY WANT TO BE MAKING WITH NO CONCLUSION.

[anika-ann]

Restless Hearts - S.R.

Type: one-shot, established relationship, next-to-zero plot

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader   Word Count: 6,2k

Summary: Moving in together with Steve is the dream come true – or it should have been. You didn't exactly have the chance to benefit from that since he shipped off to a mission for days and is only now coming back.

You grow restless. And to make it worse, you only get to reunite with him on this stupid pompous party instead of your home. Well. Just few more hours of socializing to survive.

You could handle that, right?

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, smut, semi-public sex if you squint, unprotected sex, language, Steve being a menace, two idiots in love who can't keep their hands off of each other

A/N: written for the Smutty September Fest hosted by @mercurial-chuckles . Thank you for hosting 💕 I have chosen multiple prompts - finding a somewhat private area at a fancy party to f* and quickie where you don’t take any clothes off, just tug and pull and expose the essentials 🤭

A/N 2: DIVIDER by @firefly-graphics; enjoy y'all 🥰

Sparkling lights. Sparkling drinks. Elegant gowns and sharp suits. Subtle polite laughter and conversation occasionally interrupted by a louder exclamation and a genuine burst of laughter from the groups forming around those who knew how to charm a crowd. A non-descript music, one song bleeding into another, a few couples trying to find space on the dancefloor that had mostly changed into an agora, a space for conversation rather than for moving in well-practiced sync.

The dress skirt brushing over your knees and ankles, a slight chill on the back of your neck as someone opened the balcony doors, letting in fresh April air of New York City. The light stink of alcohol and sweat amongst the hundreds of expensive perfumes and colognes. The rich aftertaste of the sting of bubbles, sweet and spicy on your tongue.

The golden lights shone bright but intimate, reflecting in your champagne glass and prompting you to finish your first – and likely one of the lasts – drink of the night.

You weren’t much of a drinker. You indulged every once in a while, more of curiosity about what fancy brand the host had chosen for the occasion and a thing of courtesy, using the glass like a required social prop.

Such was the case tonight too – a fancy evening for investors and associates of the Earth’s mightiest heroes. Politicians, diplomats, government officials, high-ranking military officials and filthy-rich entrepreneurs – mostly not your crowd, to speak plainly. There was a slightly better company too, even if scarce: former agents and other colleagues – well-vetted beforehand, of course – scientists, non-profit representatives, veterans. Several Avengers too, of course.

But your favourite – the one who had brought you deeper into the world of superheroes – was yet to be found.  

Steve Rogers most definitely was your favourite; nearly flawless moral compass, loyal, protective of the less fortunate ones and his own. A fighter who had won and lost all too much; an artist, who saw beauty around him nevertheless. A kind soul with an enormous heart, perhaps a tad too big for his own body despite his impressive physique. Larger than life and yet somehow humble enough in his insistence that he was just a man, ordinary, like most; just lucky enough to had been given a chance to fight and to defend.

And to love.

Steve Rogers certainly was your favourite, as he should be; the goodness of the world distilled into one man, with a face and a body of worth of being sculpted by the masters of ancient arts, the warmest smile and a sparkle to his eye a testimony to his brilliant mind and wicked humour. All that at your fingertips; all that supposedly yours, as incredible as it seemed at most times.

He was yours.

Your boyfriend of four months and seventeen days.

Not that you had been counting; perhaps just a little. You were innocent in the matter, however; it was mostly your and Steve’s friends, teasing you about taking things slow. According to Bucky, had you been taking things at Steve’s desired pace, with how smitten he apparently was, he would have already had a ring on your finger.

You didn’t dare to judge, afraid of raising your hopes a little too much; however, there was something to be said about Steve Rogers in love. He made it clear; so painfully and blissfully clear, letting you feel his much-reciprocated adoration in hundreds if not thousands of little moments.

In his touch. In his words. In his actions.

Your demanding jobs perhaps did slow down your progress a bit, making even the settling on a day of your first date quite the feat; but it was one of those good things that made the waiting worth it.

If Steve was smitten, so were you; and while a proposal would feel rather rash, you certainly not at all thinking about how you’d probably say yes anyway, because you simply knew, you’d settle for moving in together.

You had moved in together, thirteen days ago.

And the move in that had left you with half-unpacked boxes, cold bed and an apartment lacking the true aura of a home, because the person you wished to build it with was godknowswhere in a middle of Siberia, having left after a passionate welcome-to-our-new-home and a message delivered at three damn forty a.m.

Steve had left the pleasant warmth of your bed at four, with a profound sleepy apology and a lingering kiss to your forehead.

Left for an off-grid no-contact mission. Lasting for days.

For all the faith you had in his skill and strength, the worry that came with him being away for so long without as much of a short text was eating at you; and then there was the matter of simply missing him, the empty feeling only accentuated by having expected to be nearer to him at last and getting this instead. You were an independent woman and you could live your life without a man just fine, but goddamn were you also a woman madly in love, missing your boyfriend.

And you were growing impatient.

You were still at your first drink, yes, but knowing Steve should appear at any moment did not help calm your nerves, the slightly uncomfortable but exciting swirl of anticipation of seeing him again – in a suit no less – as intense as the yearning for comfort of actually seeing for yourself that he was safe and sound.

He had texted you, at last, about four hours ago, that he was on his way, nothing but a couple of bruises already healing, looking forward to seeing you.

You had agreed to meet at the venue; he would be running last minute, or perhaps even fashionably late, grabbing a quick shower and a shave at his at-hand quarters at the Tower, just throwing on a suit he kept there for such occasions. You had offered to help – for the completely selfish reason of seeing him sooner and in private instead of in front of hundreds of watchful curious eyes – but he had sweetly refused, argumenting that at least one of you should be on time and promising he would find you first thing upon his arrival.

You would have grumbled if you hadn’t been soothed by the Love you, can’t wait to hold you again, he had texted after. He was a charming loveable bastard like that.

As the infamous murmur of excitement arose around you, bringing you back to the present, your eyes easily found the source of the commotion: Steve Rogers himself.

Your heart rate accelerating reminded you that not being able to meet Steve before the event might have been a blessing. Had you had the chance to get your hands on him, you two would probably end up being very much unfashionably late; a welcome home kiss would have simply not sufficed.

He was breathtaking.

The traditional black suit with navy blue glint was fitted for certain; tight where it should be, accentuating Steve’s absurdly broad shoulders and thin waist, pants no doubt hugging all the right places from behind somehow complimenting his long muscular legs too, pristine white shirt with a bowtie matching the suit; the soft blue reflection emphasized the colour of his eyes as they scanned the room without ever stopping his progress, his polite smile spreading wide when his gaze found yours, the blue of his irises turning warmer; the most beautiful feature to his face battling the magnificence of his sharply cut jaw.

The instant relief washing over you screamed of how anxious you had actually been before you had seen him alive and well; the warmth spreading through your veins whispered of comfort, a tidal wave of feeling at home after a long travel; the heat curling in your belly and sending sparkles through every nerve ending reminded you that your body had been missing him in all different ways.

Your gaze zeroed on his every step. He seemed to move too slow and too fast at once; and suddenly he was standing in front of you, one hand gently grasping yours, the other lightly laying on your waist, a chaste kiss to your temple lingering as your body naturally sought his and carefully leaned into his entirely publicly appropriate greeting. The familiar woodsy notes of his cologne and aftershave had your heartbeat pick up and instinctively move closer into his embrace and breathing in deeply, the scent going straight to your head; but following his lead, you didn’t get too close, letting the gentle timbre of his voice soothe your need for connection instead.

At last; he was home. He was here, with you, and his love, while contained in socially acceptable gestures, seemed to draw a protective circle around your pair, shining brighter and warmer than the lights and all the luxuries around combined.

“Hey sweetheart. It’s so good to see you,” he whispered, pressing a chaste kiss to your cheek this time, his eyes lit alive as he retreated, a hint of a smile still playing in the corner of his lips. “And you are absolutely stunning. Almost tripped over my feet the moment I set my eyes on you.”

Resisting the urge to tenderly slap his side at the exaggeration, at making your face burn hot – and something inside you purr with satisfaction since you had chosen your outfit with care, much like your makeup and hairdo – you gathered your composure, straightening your posture and charming a smile for him in return.

In one of many late-night conversations, when he had revealed his artistic side to you, he had admitted he loved to feast his eyes on all kinds of art from the most ordinary ones to the rarest; you had understood then that while a fighter and just a man in his core, his soul was a thing seeking beauty and goodness everywhere. In both things and people. A doodle could make him smile and hum in delight as much as a painting or a sculpture, he had said shyly; a building, an arrangement of flowers, a beautiful dress too. The last one, however, he had appreciated most on a woman as bewitching as yourself, he had told you, a tender finger on your jaw, a glint of dark mischief in his eye, lips slanting over yours and stealing your breath in a matter of a second; proving he was appreciative of you just as much when you were wearing nothing at all.

This time, however, you liked to believe he enjoyed the sight of you in the dress indeed; the top was hugging your curves like a second skin, the dark crimson fabric bled into a breeze-light skirt, shorter at the front, longer at the back, offering a less-than-scandalous but still teasing peek of your legs and clear view of your matching heels.

“It’s really good to see you too, love. And you look quite handsome yourself… I nearly dropped my drink upon seeing you,” you reciprocated with a small smirk, pointedly finishing your drink at last, heat flaring in your core when you caught Steve’s gaze lingering on your lips as they barely touched the edge of the glass, not leaving an imprint despite the dangerously red colour of your lipstick.

As you set your glass on the nearest table, you took a satisfactory note of Steve’s gaze flickering even lower, and bit back a smile.

As high as the neckline of your dress was, actually reaching half-up your throat and barely but chastely covering your shoulders, the oval-shaped cut stretching from between your collarbones down over your sternum was a rather intentional trap.

And your Captain had fallen right into it, his Adam’s apple bobbing before his gaze snapped back to your face, pupils wider, irises having gained just a tad darker shade. The fresh surge of confidence was almost as intense as the swoop of desire in your lower belly, sending your thoughts spiralling far away from a behaviour socially acceptable at an event like this.

It made you want to abandon the event and let it sort itself even if Steve had just barely arrived.

Who cared anyway? Steve deserved a proper rest after a taxing mission; rest and more, whatever his heart desired. And maybe not only his heart; if you were honest with yourself, you were only a hot-blooded human being like the rest of the world and were looking forward to truly greeting Steve home in all the ways imaginable.

You could control yourself in the public, of course, and you genuinely understood the importance of networking. But you should bring up simply taking Steve home for his own good; and you could profit from it all the same. From his proximity, from the privacy of your home, from getting your hands on the insanely handsome man’s body.

Whether he sensed the sparkles in the air you weren’t sure; but he leaned towards your face, his voice dripping slow and rich like honey from his lips brushing your ear, sinful despite the words being perfectly innocent.

“It works well then, honey.” He offered you his elbow, straightening his posture as if he was so damn proud to show off what kind of a woman he had on his arm. “Let’s go fulfil our duty of mingling so we can excuse ourselves as soon as possible.”

With his last words carrying alluring notes of an intimate promise, you conceded.

Nodding, you arranged your face in a polite smile, crafted to nonchalant perfection.

“Let’s go mingle indeed.”

Indeed, let’s work so we can sneak away and go home as soon as possible.

Your plan had gone a little awry.

In the glow of delight at Steve’s arrival, you had underestimated the number of people who found it their crucial mission to meet and greet and catch up with Captain America.

You had kept up the pleasant façade through all the conversations, nodding and chuckling politely when the situation called for it; but you were growing weary and you could feel tension gradually building in Steve’s shoulders as well, the way you remained connected by at least an inch of a touch at all times permitting you to observe the change.

You had thought it would help when you subtly nodded towards the dance floor; his smile turned much more genuine as he asked you for a dance, earning your pair a breather and a moment of shared intimacy for a few songs.

But you had been wrong in your strategy; if it were possible, Steve’s jaw appeared locked even tighter than before once your reprieve was deemed to last too long and you agreed to return to socializing. His touch grew into a hold; at moments, it was but a grip, until you felt him forcefully relax and ease the pressure.

You didn’t blame him one bit.

He must have been exhausted; away from home for so long, physically and mentally drained after an intense, albeit successful mission, forced to put on a mask for everyone else’s benefit, because Steve Rogers, to a point, was a poster boy. As much as he was trying to change that, working on allowing himself to show and accept his humanity, he remained the embodiment of a hero who never gave up and raised others on his own shoulders despite scratching the bottom of the barrel of his own energy.

He remained cordial and polite and a gentleman; he offered to get you a drink as you excused yourself to the bathroom, returning only to find him – visibly annoyed, for once – trapped in a conversation with Tony. A conversation which was probably not at all important, but apparently couldn’t wait, at least in Tony’s mind.  

“Such a charming woman, standing here all by herself. How is that even possible?” questioned a voice from your left just as you pondered rescuing your boyfriend, causing you to waver.

It was a very male voice. An unfamiliar voice.

And had it been Clint or Sam or Bucky, you’d laugh at the poor line, which would no doubt be told with a drop of teasing; or in Thor’s case, entirely genuine and fitting to Asgardian but not Midgardian ways. Hearing it from a stranger, though, that made you want to roll your eyes.

You were a strong soldier of God so to speak, however; you turned to the source of the voice with a smile with just a slightly sharp edge – one the tall lanky man was oblivious to, as it turned out – and greeted him with a measured Sir.

As he introduced himself, you learned that Mr. Doctor Bowers PhD. might have had two PhDs but none of them was in taking a goddamn hint. Because now you were sort-of trapped much like Steve was, the written and unwritten rules of courtesy not permitting you to make up an excuse of needing to go to the bathroom after you had clearly just come back.

You counted seconds, pondering how soon you could leave the man behind without appearing too rude. You got to a hundred when your patience truly was wearing thin.

He was still not taking any of the hints you had dropped. Worse, even. You weren’t presumptuous enough – unlike some people in the mostly one-sided conversation – to imagine the flirting. He was clearly attempting to flirt and was failing miserably. He was shameless about it too, even if a little condescending.

Ninety-four seconds later, you had enough of him and far too little of Steve; your skin seemed to be already burning where Steve had last touched you, yearning for the contact to return in a perhaps clingy, but entirely honest way.

And suddenly, as if some miracle provided by Asgardian magic, the touch was back.

Steve’s arm was curling around your waist, his side pressing to your hip, his lips making a gentle – and strangely electric – contact with your hairline.

“I’m sorry about the hold-up, sweetheart. Who’s your… friend?”

It was a little funny, really. The man matched Steve in height, but at the biting note in Steve’s voice, he shrank at least a foot and a half.

He introduced himself after clearing his throat, maintaining the remnants of his composure which all of sudden carried no hint of the wannabe seducer. You wanted to kiss Steve right on the lips right there for that alone.

Mr. Doctor PhD also probably regretted extending his hand for Steve to shake; because at Steve’s grip, no doubt stronger than necessary despite his entirely nonchalant mask of politeness, he actually winced.

You were no supporter of violence, much like Steve, which might seem ironic to some given his profession – but the lick of heat at seeing Steve put the guy into back into his place sent a shudder of undiluted want down your spine and straight into your core, your posture involuntarily shifting in response. Steve’s hold on you tightened.

“I have to talk to my girlfriend now, if you excuse us. See you around,” Steve said, already spinning you towards the exit to drive his point to the end.

You didn’t resist.

If anything, you couldn’t walk fast enough, regretting wearing heels and wishing for a pair of sneakers instead to sneak away from the party altogether at last.

Only when Steve led you further and further away from people, deeper into the complex, your heart began thundering in your chest; you noticed that the tension in his muscles you had worried about had grew tenfold and realized that his announcement about needing to talk to you might be more than an excuse.

“Steve, are you alright?”

“Fine,” he responded flatly, yet in a voice carrying hundred times more warmth than just a moment ago.

Right. And the Sun is blue, the pigs can fly and tachyons had always been proven particles of matter.  

You swallowed the snarky response, glancing at him as you barely kept up with his long strides; still, you could tell he was holding back, having seen him march with much more hurry and relentlessness.

“Thanks for the rescue, by the way. Really,” you pipped up, one corner of your lips rising despite your stomach turning tight at the unreadable expression on Steve’s face. “Guy simply couldn’t take the hint that I only have eyes for my Captain.”

An uncomprehensible grumbly noise vibrated in Steve’s chest, his arm sliding from your waist in favour of taking your hand in his instead.

Apparently, your attempt at cheering him up failed; you should have known.

The corridor was now completely devoid of people; you had arrived to the part of the floor with three small conference rooms, one an each of them dark and empty – because everyone was at the party.

Your smile turned truly nervous at that point, your mind racing as much as your heart. Steve wouldn’t have led you here unless he wanted to urgently talk about something important. You were a little baffled as to why hadn’t he opted for the elevator and his former quarters instead; but you didn’t question it as he placed his palm on the scanner and practically threw one of the doors open and all but pulled you in, some of the lights automatically flickering to life.

That was all that your ordinary human brain had time to register.

Because then Steve’s hand found firm purchase of your neck, cupping your jaw, lips slanted over yours with ferocity and passion that had your mind snap blank and set your body on fire, your hands limply landing on his firm chest.

Oh. O-okay.

More than okay.

You were forced to walk backwards, Steve’s other hand pressing against your hip to lead your step and steady you at once; an anchor you desperately needed in the whirlwind of puzzlement and madly stirred desire. Your lips parted in invitation just before your ass hit the conference table, an unvoluntary whimper escaping you when Steve’s body aligned with yours, every single part of him bare his lips tight and wound up, his hardness brushing against your thigh.

At the small sound so willingly consumed by his demanding kiss, he squeezed your hip harder, tongue exploring hundred-times explored with delight, air stolen from your lungs, your hands scrambling to grab his suit jacket to pull him even closer.

Who needed breathing anyway?

You didn’t. And you didn’t care how you got here either, be it desire fuelled by impatience or jealousy or the endless time apart, your choice of a dress or your lipstick which you knew Steve liked so much. You didn’t give a damn.

He was the spoilsport, releasing your lips and pressing his forehead against yours, his quick breaths fanning your face, hand from your neck sliding lower, an almost inhuman sound pushing through his teeth when his fingertips found the exposed skin on your breastbone, petting the soft spot adoringly.

You had not known until that moment how much you craved his touch precisely at that spot and how weak in the knees it could make you.

“Please say y-“

“Yes,” you gasped, instantly rewarded by his mouth on yours again with a muttered but hearty-

“God, I missed you-“

-dextrous fingers sliding under your skirts and hiking the fabric up as they travelled up your thigh, Steve’s pelvis rocking against yours, creating delicious friction against your core.

“I missed you too.”

Your hands went to roam over his freshly shaven jaw, over his shoulders, pushing the jacket off just to make him growl in frustration when he had to stop touching you for two full seconds to get rid of it.

“Sorry, want to feel you,” you apologized nonsensically, every single moment of his touch going straight to your head like a strong sweet wine, intoxicating and addictive, much like his scent, his taste, consuming all of your senses.

“Need to have you-”

“You have me,” you said breathily, a plea and a promise at once, thoroughly appreciated by a squeeze to your ass, fingertips wandering towards where you needed him the most--

And then Steve halted in his progress, body turning into a statue as he came in contact with bare skin, lips stilling on yours.

You gulped, trying to judge his reaction despite your haze.

You had had… a little incident when dressing up to the nines. Your broken nail nicked your thigh-high, sending a run up your calf. Uncharacteristically unprepared, you had found out if was your only pair. And sure. You could have run to a store. You could have express-ordered; stores would trip over their feet to deliver to Ms. Captain America in need. You could have worn a pantyhose.

And yet, your mind had steered you towards the drawer where you had kept tights specifically bought for a wholly different occasion than a social outing.

Why not? Your dress was long enough. And having hoped Steve’s mission would bring him home victorious and excited, having missed all of him terribly, you thought you might at least save some time once you two would be home.

Except you weren’t at home now. But that wasn’t on you – you were completely innocent in that matter.

Except you weren’t and your tights were conveniently sewn with a large enough opening to have Steve fit his hand or other parts of his body through, leaving but a flimsy lace panties in his way.

“Sweetheart?” he rasped, licking his lips as if to tempt you further, to confess your sins born of love and lust. He pulled back just an inch, to meet your gaze, his own pupils blown so wide only a thin ring of your beloved blue remained.

You gulped; not ashamed, not truly, perhaps a little apprehensive of his judgement. You had worn what was pretty much an erotic prop to a high-class event and had you not been careful and had had an accident, anyone seeing or god forbid snapping a picture…

“I… wanted to greet you home… and feel you as soon as possible,” you admitted silently, heart thundering in your chest, in your ears, in your temples, in your fingertips fisting the collar of Steve’s shirt.

A beat of silence.

Several wild beats of your heart.

“Christ, I love you-“

You were hoisted up on the edge of the table in a lightning speed and a mouth-watering display of strength, lips devoured by Steve’s with enough force to bend you backwards, the line of your soaked panties pushed aside to not waste time indeed as Steve’s fingertips dipped into your slick with a mutual groan of pleasure.

“Steve-“

“That’s right, honey,” he whispered, lips teasing the soft skin of your throat now, “I’m here now, all yours.”

He teased your lower lips back and forth, once, twice, three times too many and then he finally entered you with two fingers, a dark chuckle coming deep from his throat at the gasp of his name, stepping closer between your spread thighs to press your legs further apart.

He pumped his fingers with ease, driving you towards the stars at a dizzying speed, pressing a soothing kiss to your sternum when you cried out at him curling his fingers just right.

“That’s it, honey… sing for me. Just for me,” he pleaded, contradicting his plea by claiming your lips again and pushing deeper, faster, wicked,your whimpers swallowed greedily, all his, just like you were, on the brink of ecstasy.

You were trembling; in pleasure, in anticipation of absolute bliss, with Steve’s hand firmly pressed to your lower back to hold you close and annihilate you in the most exquisite way known to man. His words, his touch, the husky notes of his voice, the sheer need radiating off him and still making sure you were to steal the first round of fireworks just for yourself.

It exploded through your body without warning.

You broke with a cry of his name, lips freed just so he could hear the delicious sound, so beautifully seconded by his harsh breaths and so filthily accompanied by the wet sound of your pleasure you had no capacity to be ashamed of but revelled in instead.

You knew he did too. Because he had done that to you, for you. It was his and yours and both was a privilege; and lust incarnate, as he brought you down from your high gently as it be, his hand disappearing from your back in favour of undoing his fly and zipper.

Feel as soon as possible; no time to waste. Pants shoved down only as little as necessary, boxers following, a peek of a mouthwatering – and always a little intimidating – sight was all you got.

A small startled sound escaped you when you were being pulled further towards the edge of the table without a moment of reprieve, a chuckle bubbling in your throat at Steve’s impatience – but with no malice. God knew you understood; the moment the head nudged your entrance, coating him in your slick, your orgasmic bliss was long gone, replaced by even more acute need.

You wanted him. Now. All of him. Wanted to feel him deep inside you, wanted him to fill you so completely as only he ever could, devoured by him, desired and loved.

And you wanted to make him feel as delirious with pleasure as he had made you a moment ago, wanted to make his world so hot it turned white for a moment, make his knees buckle with the force of his release.

Your gaze met his, eyes feasting at the beautiful panting mess he already was, all pristine in his suit and bowtie and ready to ruin and be ruined, lips crimson and kiss-swollen and parting with a groan as he slowly pushed into you.

“Look at me, Steve. Want you to see what you do to me,” you whispered, the little broken sound pushing past his lips the only warning you got before he snapped his hips forward with a curse on his lips and sheeted himself fully inside you at once. God, so fully and suddenly that all air got knocked from your lungs.

His hand grasped your jaw, tender but firm, a dangerous glint in his eye, thumb running over your painted lower lip.

“Oh I’m looking, honey.” His gaze flickered down as he retreated almost all the way out, shining with your arousal, and thrusted deeply again, causing your eyes to flutter shut. “And there’s nothing prettier than you falling apart for me, so let. Me. See you.”

He accentuated every word with a sharp snap of his hips, stroking and stretching your walls over and over, setting a rhythm, teasingly slow and punishingly quick, hand and lips roaming, grabbing and caressing, kisses all teeth and all soft, grip on your hips keeping you still to assure he could take you exactly as he liked and encouraging you to roll your hips at your pace as you balanced on the edge of the table all the same.

“Missed you.”

“Love you.

“Need you.”

“So good for me.”

“I’m so damn lucky.”

“Please.”

“Look at me.”

“Give it me, honey.”

Your head was spinning as you were consumed by bliss, spiralling towards your peak so fast you couldn’t tell anymore which words were yours and which were his, where you ended and he began, clinging to each other as you were carried higher and higher, your ears ringing and still allowing you to hear the clinks of the belt buckle and the sinful sound of your rapid love-making; like a lightning running through yours very being, you shattered with a high-pitched whimper of Steve’s name, an echo of a hoarse voice stringing curses and praise barely reaching your conscience.

You panted against Steve’s shoulder as he curled around you, minuscule movements of hips to ride out both of your highs, soft words spilling from his lips as he was barely caching breath himself.

You took a minute, maybe two or five, still, clinging to him all the same, the heady scent of sex and sweat weighing down the air, your tongue heavy and throat parched, fingers carding through Steve’s damp hair softly.

And still, you chuckled breathlessly as Steve kept running his warm hand up and down your back, the sound causing him to press a kiss to your lips that tasted of apology for some reason.

“Well…”

“I’m sorry for pouncing on you, sweetheart,” he muttered, a genuine note of regret nearly lost in the pleasure carried over to his voice.

Your smiled must have looked exhausted, you thought; but blissed out.

Oh, your sweetheart of a boyfriend. As if you hadn’t just both enjoyed this tremendously. Surely, he didn’t really mean it, did he?

“I’m sorry for sort-of setting a trap then…” you followed suit, the words feeling simply wrong on your tongue. “Except I’m not.”

At that, Steve lifted his head, meeting your gaze, his eyes sparkling with mischief and desire still.

“Me neither.”

You grinned, trying not to be acutely aware of his hardness still stretching you to your fullest.

Of course he wasn’t entirely satisfied. One round had barely even been enough.

“That’s what I thought. Good.”

He mirrored your expression, his grin a little boyish and devilish at once, his expression soft but somehow everything but innocent.

Yet, he caressed your face with his fingertips with tenderness, from your damp temple over your cheekbone to your jaw, gently pressing against your lips.

“I love you. And I missed you. So much. I swear I just wanted to go home – take you home, the moment I walked in,” he admitted, causing your smile to turn sympathetic.

You knew all about that; it was all you had been truly thinking about the whole evening.

“I know the feeling.”

“Yeah?”

“Uh-huh…” you trailed off, sensations slowly returning to your body outside the all-consuming pleasure. You felt like you were burning; sweaty and fucked-out for the lack of a better term, most of your body tingling… You chuckled self-deprecatingly. “God, my legs shake so much… what did you do to me?”

Steve’s hands moved to your thighs as if he needed to feel it and steady the trembling, to help, teeth worrying over his lip, just a hint of guilt – and a whole lot more of something you didn’t dare to decode, because those were some dangerous waters.

You expected him to pull out and help you stand then, clean up; after all, he was a gentleman like that, always supporting you.

He did the former, tenderly so as not to hurt you; but not the latter. When he carefully left your body and you tried to stand, he halted your movements with tightening his hold on your thighs, his gaze roaming all over you as you glanced at him all with puzzlement.

“Steve?”

“Maybe you should lie down,” he suggested lowly, his gaze flickering from your still quaking legs to the opening of your dress on your chest and to your lips and then back.

You swallowed against your dry throat.

The dangerous waters you hadn’t dared to explore roared in the back of your head, a shudder of scalding heat running through your body.

He hadn’t cleaned up. He hadn’t tucked himself in. He was still… as always---he-

You licked your lips, your heart stumbling so hard in your chest it was almost painful.

Wordlessly but with his blown pupils observing you like a hawk, one of his hands moved to your shoulder, gently pushing, encouraging you to lie down on the desk indeed.

And who were you to protest? His gaze was once again pleading and challenging you.

Please, say yes.

Like a fallen angel coaxing you to sin; and you’d all but follow hm straight to hell, because you knew he’d show you heaven unparalleled.

The table was cold and unforgivingly hard against your back, but you didn’t care; all you cared about was Steve looking at you like that, like you were a goddess and a prize he had sworn to win, guiding your leg up to rest your ankle against his shoulder, his hot mouth pressing a kiss to your calf. His other hand pushed his pants and boxes down his legs this time, before he reached for your other leg and wrapped it around his waist, once again nudging your sensitive opening.

“Just one more, honey,” he coaxed you, as if you needed convincing, as if the tremble of your body hadn’t turned from blissful and exhausted to one of anticipation. “Just one more and then we’ll go home…”

He pressed another kiss to your calf and met your gaze as he slowly sank back in with ease, something devilish and painfully alluring flashing in his eyes as a shudder ran through your body, sensitive from your earlier activities.

“And when we’re there, I’ll take you once more… once for every day I would have made love to you, had I been in our home with you as I should have.”

In the haze of your mind, the math didn’t seem to math or even matter, even though you felt it should.

But for now, all you could focus on was Steve, finally with you, and soon coming to your shared home with you, at last.

Complete masterlist

Steve Rogers masterlist

The event's masterlist

*chuckles* I’m in danger🥹

I hope Steve makes sure she’s hydrated and eats something in between🤭 And maybe gets some sleep; not all of us are supersoldiers 🥹

ANYWAY. Thank you for reading! Drop feedback if you're willing and may September bring you many smutty cozy evenings and peace 💕

[pyr0-kai]

Could you maybe write a mike x reader that the reader has a crush on Mike for a long time now secretly but dont dare tell him because she just can't is too shy and Abby helps reader and Mike to find together with her drawings since she noticed how they look at each other every time but no one says anything and maybe with just fluffy please. The reader knows mike a long time and knows what he is going through and Mike did become distance from the reader but the reader is still here for him when he needs it too.. And they kiss too :)

Hiiii, thank you for my first official request!! I hope you like it!

There shouldn’t be anything to spoiler-y just some tooth rotting fluff and bad writing!! (And one spicy reference ish? Nothing too bad)

Also So sorry, my art class was watching the little mermaid today so its been in the back of my mind.

Abby, The Little Matchmaker

You had moved in next door to the Schmidt house a few years ago. Mike was watched out the window the day you moved in, while eating breakfast with Abby one morning. He saw you outside of the window, and he wasn’t trying to stare, but ended up staring at your driveway, watching you bring in and out boxes of stuff from one of those large moving trucks. Abby finished a little doodle before looking up, seeing her big brother staring. When Abby spoke up, he zapped out of his little trance.

As a lot of time had passed you had gotten to know him somewhat well. Sometimes he would talk with you from the other side of your fence, or you two would sit on the curb or one of your porches together and just chat about random stuff. As he became more focused on his work, trying and failing to keep a good few job, he slowly began to, unintentionally, become distant. No longer speaking to you directly. But he still would watch you from the window of his kitchen if he saw you pretty [hair color] flash in the corner of his vision. Often seeing you playing with your younger sibling, or younger family members.

Once he landed the job at Freddy’s, he knew he would need help. And you were the best and only person he could really think to ask. It was awkward but, you agreed. Excited to officially meet his little sister, and hopefully see more of him once again. Thats how you ended up watching over Abby once he started working late nights.

Abby was very shy at first, but as time past, and you spent more time at the Schmidt house, she began to open up a bit, talking more and inviting you to draw with her. She also noticed though, how awkward you were with Mike. How you two both seemed to like each other a lot, but it was strange.

One evening however, it was just you and Abby. One of her favorite movies, The Little Mermaid was playing in the background, and she was drawing. Not looking up from the paper, she spoke.

“Hey, [Y/N]?”

“Yeah Abby? Whats up?”

“Do you like my brother? I mean, Like-Like him?”

Your face flustered at that question.

“N-Not like that no… We are just friends really.” You replied, voice cracking a bit.

She turns her head and looks at you.

“Oh really? At dinner sometimes when I mention you, he always says you’re pretty and appreciates you being friends and taking care of me at night. Also, sometimes when i’m not asleep yet, I hear weird noises, and your name coming from his room.”

She notices your face and how red it gets from hearing her speak. She knew you had a crush on him, no matter how much you tried to deny it. Then she turned her head back, smirked to to herself and grabbed a new piece of paper, before heading back into her room, to plan.

Later, Mike invited you to stay for breakfast. He was cooking up some slightly burnt scrambled eggs while you were tapping your nails on the kitchen table. After what Abby had told you, it became even more difficult to talk to him.

Abby came out of her room a few minutes later, a piece of folded paper in her pj pocket. She sat at the table, across from you, wishing you and Mike a good morning. You 3 ate Mike’s slightly burnt food, as Abby told you about a project she’s excited to start at school. Once the food was done, and the dishes were put in the sink, Abby perked up again.

“I drew this for both pf you! Don’t open it until I’m back in my room please!”

You and Mike both nodded as she dashed off into her room to get ready for school. You stood next to Mike as he unfolded the sheet of paper. The inside revealing a picture of You, Mike, And Abby, all happily hugging. You and Mike looked at each other, admiring each other’s eyes. Before you both heard Kiss the girl, from The Little Mermaid start playing from the Cassette player in Abby’s room.

You two both looked at each other, the paper still in Mike’s hand.

“Did Abby tell you that I like you?” He asked.

“Yeah, did she say that I like you..?”

You replied.

But you’re dying to try

You wanna kiss the girl

Yes, you want her

The song played, while you and mike looked each other. He gulped before leaning in slightly for a kiss, and you met his lips halfway. The kiss was everything you both wanted, soft, loving and passionate.

“I love you…”

He spoke.

“I love you too…”

You replied.

The song ended from Abbys room, and you both heard her shout

“I KNEW IT!”

You and Mike both laughed before he pulled you into a tight hug. To this very day, the specific picture Abby drew is framed and sits on a shelf. She draws all 3 of you together much more, loving how happy it makes you all. This always ends with a group hug, as well as you and mike sharing a loving kiss.

[slytherinshua]

FLYING BICYCLES AND LOVESTRUCK MAGIC

genre. fluff. kiki's delivery service au-ish. a lil mutual pining. warnings. reader is basically kiki and sohee is basically tombo lol. some psychic magic mentioned. it's mostly just them being whipped for each other. osono cameo cause she's mvp fr. pairing. sohee x witch!reader. wc. 2.5k. a/n. the riize brainrot is SO REAL. idk why i felt sohee would fit the role of tombo so perfectly hes just sooo 💔💔 i love him guys 🥹

Sohee was 97.62436% sure that he was going crazy when he first saw you flying on a broomstick through the city. Of course, the other 2.37564% that had gone completely insane was fascinated, excited, and probably (definitely) head over heels in love.

He lived in a small town. One where the word went around like a whirlwind as soon as anyone new moved in. It was the most exciting thing that could happen for the residents there, especially when the newcomer happened to be a very pretty girl from a rich city. 

Most people would move out of the town when they reached 20 or so to discover themselves. Yet they always seemed to find their way back when they were a bit more settled. It was a rite of passage— a route to adulthood that almost everyone assumed the youth of the town would take. Sohee liked his town, though, and didn’t feel any need to move away. He had already discovered himself enough to know what he wanted to do with his life. 

There were exciting things to do that he doubted he would be able to do anywhere else. Visiting the town’s grandpa that ran the old antique shop, getting free candy from the young lady who ran the candy store after the old owner had passed away, seeing every new addition to the art gallery from the aspiring painters and sculptors in town. And, his favourite activity: investigating the old junk yard for spare parts to make his newest models.

Sohee liked to call himself an inventor. It felt spiffy and official. He showed off every new creation he pieced together with rusted tools and even rustier bits of metal like it was the next world-changing invention. He could spend hours in his dad’s old workshop working with nuts and bolts, seeing what the pieces could make once they came together.

He had been determined to make a flying vehicle for years now. After finding a beautiful old wind turbine in the junkyard when he was 14, he had started planning mock-ups for a bicycle. He would attach the turbine in front of it so that when you pedalled, the turbine spinned. The hope was that with enough inertia, you could eventually lift off the ground with it. He was skeptical that it would actually work, though.

He hadn’t officially talked to you yet. You had been in town for a couple days now, staying with the couple that ran the local bakery. Sohee thought you were absolutely beautiful from the moment he first saw you. He had been riding his bicycle past the bakery on his way to the carpenters to pick up some tools. One glance at you through the window had him abruptly pushing on the brakes, eyes going wide.

Maybe it was a bit of an exaggeration, but you looked like an angel. Or a goddess. Or a fairy. Sohee couldn’t decide which one, but he knew that you were the most stunning person he had ever seen. Since that day, he kept running into you in town, but his own nervousness had stopped him from talking to you properly. He had held a few conversations; enough to know your name and age, but clearly not enough to know that you could fly through the air.

Now, he was staring wide-eyed at the clouds, watching you soar just beneath them so effortlessly. He craned his head to watch you as long as he could before you disappeared behind the clock tower.

“Woah…” He whispered, jaw dropped in an awestruck expression. 

“She’s quite the girl, isn’t she?” 

Sohee turned to the side, nodding in agreement with what Osono, the bakery lady, had said.

“She’s amazing. Do you know how she does it?” He asked with a grin.

“Haven’t you heard by now, Sohee? She’s a witch! She chose our town to do her witch training.” Osono explained.

“That’s incredible! I didn’t even know witches actually existed! Do you know what she’s training in?!” Sohee felt like his brain was spinning at a speed incomprehensible to mankind. He kept thinking of more and more questions about you. He’d never seen anyone quite like you before, and the more he learned, the more intrigued he became.

“She said she’s still figuring it out— but she’s interested in love readings. For now, she’s using her flying skills to help me and the town. She’s an excellent delivery girl!” Osono beamed.

“Love readings…?” Sohee pondered the idea on his way back home. The next day, he found himself at the town’s library, scanning through the small section on magic and witches with more focus than he had put to almost anything.

//

“Miss witch, I’d like to get a love reading!” He announced happily, swinging open the door to the bakery where you were seated at the counter, seconds away from falling asleep due to the lack of customers. You jerked up at the sound of Sohee, immediately knowing that it was him from his playful nickname for you— miss witch.

“Really!? You want one!?” You jumped up from your seat and rushed around the counter to be face to face with him. Sohee had become your first friend in town. After he had seen you fly that day, he discovered the key to talking to you without being awkward. You could fly and he wanted to fly. There was a perfect common interest.

You loved talking to Sohee. He was infinitely more interesting than the kids back at your old home, most of which were stuck up and rude. Sohee was bright and kind and full of imagination and dreams and inspiration. He never got bored of you talking about being a witch, and you never got bored of hearing about his new inventions. You had never clicked so well with someone before.

There was also the fact that he was the prettiest boy you’d ever seen. But that was… less important. You had a bad habit of crushing on boys without it ever going anywhere. You were determined not to repeat that disaster a sixth time.

“It would be my great honour to be your very first customer.” Sohee said dramatically, making you giggle with excitement. 

“Well, then, dear client, shall we go to my witch lair? I can’t perform the reading anywhere else.” You responded, matching his dramatics perfectly. He grinned and nodded and you grabbed his wrist to lead him upstairs.

“It’s a bit messy— give me a second!” You rushed around your small attic space that Osono had been so kind to let you stay in for free. You hurriedly put away the food that you had gotten for breakfast and shoved some odd trinkets under your bed so that they were hidden. Sohee just watched, his heart racing. He really needed to get that under control.

“Where’s my witching supplies- Aha! Here it is!” You held up a small purple box, bejewelled with gold ornaments. It looked ancient and rusty— exactly the type of artifact that Sohee loved.

You set down a thin blanket on the wooden floor before taking out the little baubles and setting them in the middle of the fabric. Sohee sat on one end, and you on the other. 

“Alright, mister… I have a series of questions, but for this to work, you must answer them completely honestly. If you lie even once, the whole thing will be messed up!” You had put on your mother’s joke witches had for fun. The sight made Sohee laugh, especially when you deepened your voice to sound old as you explained how things would work.

“I got it. I’ll tell only the truth.” Sohee promised.

“Once you answer all the questions, I’ll flip over this blank card. If everything works out, the name of the person you love the most will slowly appear before your eyes! Now… Are you ready?” You quirked an eyebrow, staring seriously at him even though on the inside you were about to burst with excitement. It was your dream to open your own love reading business. You just weren’t completely sure if you were good enough at it yet.

Sohee nodded eagerly, a mix of excitement and nervousness stewing inside of him. He wasn’t sure exactly what to expect, so he carefully followed along with what you did to make sure he didn’t mess anything up. You closed your eyes and he followed suit.

The questions you asked started out simple, without Sohee needing to deliberate before delivering the honest answer to you. But as they went on, they got more complex and more personal. Sohee had never doubted your abilities as a witch, but he hadn’t expected you to be able to see right through him.

“Last question…”

“Mhm?” Sohee could feel his stomach twist in nervousness, but he breathed steadily to try to calm his nerves.

“Do you believe yourself to be in love with someone at this current moment?” 

Sohee swallowed slowly, his mouth and throat feeling parched all of a sudden. He took his time to think through it, though the answer was almost painfully obvious. He had never been more in love in his entire life.

“Yes.” He finally answered with certainty, a slight burden lifting off his chest. It was almost as if he was confessing to you in a way— and though he didn’t say it directly, it still eased some of his anxiety. He opened his eyes hesitantly after answering to see your face scrunched in concentration.

“No way-” You opened your eyes as well, frowning in confusion and looking up to Sohee with a questioning gaze. “By any chance are you…?” 

“Huh?” Sohee blinked, confused at your actions. You shook your head quickly and stared down at the blank card.

“Are you ready?” 

“Yeah.” 

The air felt a little tense as you slowly flipped over the black card. You held your hand over it for a few seconds, shielding it from Sohee’s curious view. You lifted your hand carefully once you were sure it had worked and watched as the name slowly appeared on the card.

You sat in frozen shock once you read the name on the card, struggling to process what you had seen. Your name was displayed on the card, clearer than ever. There was no way that anyone could possibly mistake it or misread it, but you just couldn’t believe it.

“It- we- we must’ve messed it up somehow! There’s no way that’s- It must’ve got me confused, right!?” Sohee spluttered helplessly, his entire face a bright shade of red. Somehow in his calculations, he didn’t expect for the card to expose him that horrendously, right in front of you as well.

“I don’t think we did it wrong, though… Everything felt… right.” You said quietly. “Do you… like me?” You could barely get the words to come out of your throat. 

There were some parts of your magic that you still needed time to trust completely. Flying had always been easy in that aspect; you either flew or you didn’t. But when it came to love readings, you wondered how likely it was that your magic had gotten messed up. You liked to be whimsical and believe that your love readings could be completely accurate, but your confidence had never been as low as in this moment. 

However nervous you were feeling, it was a thousand times worse for Sohee. You had a small inkling of hope— hope that he would say yes. But for Sohee, he could only think of the possible rejection. Or the even worse possibility that this would tear apart your friendship.

“Yes…?” Sohee whispered out to you. You had never heard him this nervous or quiet before.

“Really? Are you sure?” You asked again, this time with a little more voice and hope surging in you. Sohee must have picked up on the hopeful tone, as he answered yes again, this time with more certainty. 

“Then the reading wasn’t wrong?! You actually like me?” Your hand clasped over your mouth before you could ramble anymore in your state of disbelief. 

“What about you? I mean… you probably don’t, right? But maybe…?” Sohee couldn’t help but be hopeful for your response, but he held himself back from being too expectant on the response he was dreaming for. 

“Do I like you back?! Of course I do- It wasn’t obvious before now?” You stuttered in disbelief.

“I mean- I hoped you did, but I couldn’t be sure.” Sohee clarified. The tension in the room had completely dissipated by now, and your smiles were slowly coming back as the reality settled in. 

“I’ve liked you since I moved here, I think. Didn’t you ever question why we kept running into each other before we became friends?” 

“No? I just thought it was a lucky coincidence.” Sohee admitted with a laugh.

“It was because whenever I spotted you biking around town, I’d land in a street nearby and pretend like I was always walking that way just to cross paths with you!” You corrected stubbornly. Now that it was clear that the feelings were mutual, you wanted him to know the effort that you went through to get closer to him.

“I also started going past the bakery on my way home. It added an extra 5 minutes to my route, but it was worth it to see you working through the glass window.” He scratched the back of his neck shyly, mirroring your smile when your eyes brightened at hearing his confession. 

“So… what now?” You questioned suddenly after a prolonged silence of both of you trying to stare at the other while simultaneously trying your best not to look obvious.

“Would you go out with me?” Sohee asked excitedly. “Oh shoot- I should’ve gotten flowers first. Wait here- I’ll be quick!” He stammered, rushing out of the room before you could stop him. He was gone only long enough for you to giggle in delight while you cleaned up the supplies you had laid out. Your witching skills had come in handy in the best of ways.

He was out of breath by the time he burst open the door again, but his eyes had never glimmered any brighter. He held a bouquet of pink and white roses, a little squished on one side from the rush he had been in. 

“You know you didn’t have to go buy these…” You bit back a smile, taking the pretty flowers from his hands.

“My mom always said the best way to charm a lady was with flowers.” He panted and grinned at you cheekily when you shot him a look. You smiled as you sniffed the sweet scent of the roses. Sohee was about to say something else, but you pulled him into a tight hug before he could start, the unexpected gesture knocking all words he had into another dimension.

“I really like you, Sohee.” You whispered, your smile twinkling as you rested your head on his shoulder. 

He took a second to get over the shock of you hugging him before he was wrapping his arms around your frame as well, mumbling back, “Me too.”

↳ riize taglist: @eternalgyu,, @kangtaehyunzzz,, @weird-bookworm,, @haecien

[lxvsiick]

O U R

PART 12 | SUNGHO FIRST WIN!! (written)

A/N: guys it’s been so long since i’ve been on less than 5 hours of sleep and 2 hours of sleep is making me crash out 😵‍💫 ,, bouta pull a y/n and down 4 cups of coffee ,, might have to hibernate once i finish my classes today

୧⋆｡🕯. -ʚɞ

Taesan trudged down the hall, swinging a bag of Subway in his hands. Out of nowhere, Sungho had begged him to bring lunch, practically promising his firstborn in exchange for a burger and fries. He sighed, wondering why he always gave in so easily. At least he’d get to sit down after this, or so he hoped.

Pushing open the door to the art room, the smell of paint and ink immediately hit his nose. The room was well-lit, with tables scattered around, various projects in different stages of completion. His eyes quickly found Sungho, who was lounging at a nearby table with someone else.

Then he saw her.

The girl who had dropped a massive book on his head at the library. His heart skipped a beat as he hesitated in the doorway, the bag of food feeling heavier in his hands.

Sungho spotted him first, grinning wide. “Oh, you’re here! Thanks, man. Just set the food down for a sec.” He nodded toward the table in front of him, where she was seated, working on a sketch.

Trying to keep his cool, Taesan awkwardly stepped forward and placed the bag of food down. He couldn’t help but glance at her, who looked up and smiled politely. He wasn’t ready for that—his stomach did an unexpected flip.

“By the way,” Sungho said, gesturing between them, “you two should meet.” He gave a lazy shrug, leaving the introductions vague. “I’ll let you ask each other’s names. I’ll be in the office eating.” A teasing grin on his lips, he grabbed his bag of food and slipped out, leaving them alone.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Taesan stood there, suddenly feeling very out of place in a room full of unfinished art and half-sketched projects. He shoved his hands in his pockets and looked up at her, trying to muster something to say.

“Uh… h-hey,” he managed, giving her a small, nervous smile. “I guess we haven’t officially met.”

She smiled back, just as awkwardly. “Yeah, I guess not. I’m Kim Y/n.”

“Oh, uh, I’m Han Taesan or Han Dongmin. B-but you can just call me Taesan.” he stammered, trying to keep his voice steady. “But you can call me yours” is what you really wanted to say, right? SHUT UP BRAIN! Why did his name suddenly feel weird in his mouth? He rubbed the back of his neck, glancing at the art project in front of her, desperate for something to focus on that wasn’t her face. If he focused on her face, he wasn't so sure he would remember anything else.

The silence that followed was heavy and awkward, stretching longer than it should have. Taesan shifted on his feet, his heart pounding, when she suddenly broke the silence.

“Hey, um…” she started, gesturing to a large book sitting on the table next to her. “I wanted to apologize again for, uh, dropping that massive art book on your head the other day.” Her tone was sincere, but there was a hint of a nervous smile tugging at her lips.

“Oh, that…” Taesan gave a nervous laugh. “Yeah, that’s okay. No permanent damage or anything.” He was trying to joke, but it came out stiffer than he intended. He mentally kicked himself for being so awkward.

She laughed softly, the tension breaking just a little. “Well, that’s good. I was afraid I might’ve knocked you out or something. That book weighs a ton.”

“Yeah, it did feel like getting hit by a brick,” he said, finally relaxing a bit. “But, you know, I’ve survived worse.”

They shared a brief smile, the awkwardness still lingering but not as intense now. He wasn’t sure if he should keep the conversation going or let it fizzle out, but Y/n seemed a little more at ease, which helped him breathe a bit easier.

“So uh… art major?” Taesan asked, gesturing to the work she was doing.

She nodded. “Yeah. What major are you?”

“I’m a music composition major.” Taesan answers, nervously fidgeting with his rings.

“Oh, that’s cool.” The beating of his heart was making Taesan dizzy. He still couldn’t believe Sungho knew her this whole time. Park Sungho, you bastard.

“S-so are you a junior like Sungho hyung?” Taesan rambled out. Placing her pencil down, Y/n shakes her head.

“No, I’m a sophomore.” Taesan widens his eyes. She was in the same year as him? 

“O-oh we’re the same year then.” Taesan says. “Wow, you’re a sophomore and you’re on the same level as Sungho hyung.” Y/n lets out a small, embarrassed laugh.

Just as the conversation was starting to feel a little less awkward, the door to the office swung open, and Sungho reemerged, wiping his hands on a napkin. “Alright, I’m good to go. You ready?”

Taesan turned to face him, caught off guard by how fast the time had passed. “Yeah, sure,” he replied, giving Y/n a quick glance.

“Well, I’ll see you tomorrow, Y/n,” Sungho said as he started to head toward the door. As he passed Taesan, he gave him a teasing smirk to which Taesan squinted at.

Taesan gave her a small wave. “Yeah, see you around,” he mumbled.

“Bye,” she said, smiling at them both as they made their way out.

As they left the art room, Taesan couldn’t help but feel the strange mixture of relief and regret. He’d survived the awkward encounter, but somehow, he wished it hadn’t ended so soon. Turning to Sungho, Taesan gives him a light punch on the arm.

“You knew her this whole time, hyung?” Taesan says, his eyes squinted at the older boy. Sungho shrugs with an innocent face.

“You never asked.”

୧⋆｡🕯. -ʚɞ

PART 11 | PART 13

MASTERLIST

TAGLIST [OPEN]: comment a 🐝 to be added

@tkooooop @ktzuki @dalliesque @cherrytaesan @crispy-kirby @onedoorland @chnhnyu @nujeskz @txjuns @prettiann @imuziawi @lynnimini @woorcve @swanyvess

© ALL RIGHTS RESERVED, lxvsiick, 2024

[pugh-bug]

A summerhouse au!, where both art and readers family's rent or own the same house (or diff- cause honestly they can) and get together every year just for them to bond over (that's the only time they physically see each other)

Imagine unlimited piggybacks wherever and whenever you want- even to the shortest of distance

Honestly just melts my heart thinking about it🫠😍

-🍃

Peachy Promises

Art Donaldson x reader

I’m sorry this is later than I wanted but I loved your request and may have got carried away with it! I hope you enjoy this summerhouse fic 🌻🫶🏻

——————————————————————

Gentle tapping of leaves against the car window woke you from your nap. Your Mum was driving the poor car a little too close to the bushes that lined the twisted paths to the Summerhouse. It had been a family tradition since you were thirteen - or twelve you couldn’t remember - to go there every July and stay for a month.

‘Excited to see Art again honey?’

The Donaldson’s officially owned the property and had for generations and their son, Art, had been your favourite aspect of Summer for years. You only saw him once a year.

‘Yeah,’ you mumbled, face cramped in-between your flat pillow and the car window. The gentle thunk of hedgerow branches hitting the car would have sent you back to sleep if you weren’t so elated to see Art again. When the two of you first met all those years before he’d mistaken you for his friend Alice and asked for you.

‘Alice? Come here, I need to show you this!’

You looked at the short, freckled blonde before you and took in his confused expression with curiosity and glee.

‘You’re not Alice…’ you were indeed not Alice but you did intrigue the boy. His parents were strict about girls - too strict. The gender had become almost entirely fantastical to him, except for Alice who was more like a sister or an annoying cousin than anything else.

‘Go on. Show me what you wanted to show her.’

The boy lead you to the gardens beyond the Summerhouse your parents were so diligently unpacking in. It was beautiful, full of sunflowers and violets but the most incredible sight was the marble statue that depicted two kissing mermaids. It was no shorter than 8 feet tall and towered over the two of you, with you being almost a foot shorter than the strange boy.

‘So pretty…’ you sighed, taking in the sight whilst the boy took in you. After a moment he outstretched his hand ‘Hey, I’m Art.’

The car incessantly moaned for more fuel until you reached the car park and stopped. No one announced ‘We’re here’ because the three of you all knew. You wiped the sleep from your eyes and reached for your beaten up suitcase, the same one you’d used all of those years ago, and looked for Art. Just like the last year and the year before that and the year before that, Art was waiting impatiently by the peach tree. It never stopped growing, in fact it had grown so unruly and proud that it obstructed the Summerhouse mailbox entirely. The fresh scent was worth it.

‘Y/N!’ Art grinned as you left the car, dropping your case as you ran towards each other. Your parents knew the drill. It was the same every Summer. ‘I’ve missed you so much.’ He mumbled into your shoulder, as your parents retreated to their wing of the house. You inhaled Art’s shampoo as his soft curls tickled your cheek, he always smelt of pure Summer in a bottle. It was a hot day.

‘I’ve missed you too!’ Before you could get your case Art was grabbing you, pulling you onto his back. ‘Come on, I’ll carry you.’ Piggybacks were also apart of the yearly drill. You’d both expected him to stop years ago but he never did, Art revelled in carrying you around. It made him feel childish and gleeful, like the two of you had been at 12 - like he hoped the two of you could still be around each other.

Art carried you to your room, which had in the last three years been changed to the one next to his own, and set you down by the bed. The waft of air-con cooled your warm skin. ‘You gonna unpack?’ He gestured to your bulging suitcase but you shook your head. ‘Nah, can we do something fun? I’ve had the shittiest week.’

The Summerhouse visits had began to bring you and your parents closer but ironically, and this was entirely the blondes fault, you never spent less time together than those months. July had become a time for your parents to ‘focus on their marriage’ (whatever that means) and for you to see your best friend.

‘Wanna go swimming?’

Your eyes brightened at the suggestion, you loved swimming more than anything and the heat was palpable. ‘Your parents fixed the pool?’ Art simply nodded, while you frantically looked for the bathing suit you hoped you’d packed. You had. Forever the gentleman, Art left you alone to get dressed but the second you were back he was piggybacking you to the pool outside.

‘Cannon ball or graceful dive?’ You asked, doing your best Olympic swimmer stance. Art tried not to stare too hard at you in your red swimsuit, tried not to think too hard about how much older the two of you were but what his parents had said about your friendship being ‘too important to ruin’. He replied ‘Graceful dive.’

As the cool water enveloped your streamline body, you smiled. The oppressive heat couldn’t reach your sanctuary in the Donaldson pool, god it felt good to be back. Art jumped in after you, taking off his shirt before performing his own graceful dive. ‘Few years ago you’d have said cannon ball.’ You squeezed the excess water out of your nose to punctuate your sentence, feeling the water in your hair drip down your neck. ‘You’ve grown up.’ Art watched the droplets - fascinated for a moment before he frowned at your beaming face. He didn’t want to grow up. Art looked around, taking in the idyllic views: the freshly mowed grass, poppies and ivy coated red brick. ‘My parents are selling this place.’

Your smile dropped.

‘You’re not serious? Why?’

‘I’m going Stanford in September. They only kept this place for me.’

‘You weren’t gonna come back for Summer?’

‘Will you?’

That stung but he was right, in fact you’d been considering going as far as Boston University. Suddenly the water didn’t feel refreshing and the sky didn’t appear so blue.

‘You’ll come back right?’ Art asked, watching you shove your bags into your parents car. ‘Of course,’ You grinned. ‘My parents love it here- I love it here. Might even become a regular thing.’

The boy lit up at that, pulling you into a tight hug. He was the first boy to properly hug you. ‘I’ll be here.’ Was all he said.

‘I’m proud of you Art,’ you smiled weakly, brushing his wet hair off of his forehead as the two of you bobbed in the water. He looked his age, Art had never looked his age. ‘Stanford. It’ll be amazing.’ You meant it, he’d always been an excellent tennis player. He’d thrashed you in too many matches to count, you thought your defeats were some of his favourite moments. Tennis had always been his biggest love. There was no doubt in your mind that he’d be somebody one day, somebody worth telling your friends you knew. ‘I know Art Donaldson.’ Well…you knew Art Donaldson.

He didn’t fail to notice the defeat in your eyes, although your belief in him had always given him hope so your words were everything. Your fingers hesitated to leave his soft skin. ‘Y/N,’ you traced his features with your eyes. Remembering. ‘I need to tell you something and I - I think you might already know.’

‘I know.’

Blush coated his cheeks as Art waited with an intense stare for your next move. He didn’t know what would hurt him more, to have you for a Summer and never again or to have never had you at all.

Before he could speak your hands were cradling his face and pulling his lips to yours. He tasted like peaches. Neither of you said a word as Art’s hands ran down your waist, trying to get closer to you through the drenched swimsuit while he hummed into your kiss. You couldn’t quite explain it but you felt the mermaid statue was watching over the two of you, it too knowing that you’d always miss the boy who gifted you those Summers.

Masterlist

[thebestofoneshots]

Gilded Constellations | wolfstar x reader

Series Masterlist | Previous episode

Pairing: Wolfstar x Reader Word Count: 8.5 K Warnings: none Prompt: The divination classroom becomes an intriguing nexus for forging new friendships amidst revelations laden with enigmatic symbolism. Meanwhile, Defense Against the Dark Arts delves even deeper into the shadows as you struggle to grasp the imminence of the ever-looming wаr. This IS a wolfstar x reader fic, but it's incredibly slow burn. They won't start all dating each other until we're very deep into the story, but I promise the long wait will be worth it.

Chapter 9: The Fairy Feller's Master-Stroкe

September 24, 1976 - Friday

Your race with Sirius, Marlene and a couple of other students who decided to tag along and prove their worth would be next week. The broom race was basically the talk of town. James had talked to the other Quidditch Team Captains, Lyonel Aldridge, Delilah Moss and of course Dmitri Volkov, and they all reached to the conclusion that it would be a great way to boost their team’s morale before the first match.

You woke up early like you had been doing the past couple of weeks, but you and Sirius had gotten a lot more competitive, so competitive you’d already gotten on James’ nerves. Which was something pretty hard to do when you were talking about quidditch. Every day you’d go on mini races, inventing new challenges to fulfill and you always pestered James regarding who’d gotten there first.

“My hand reached the line first,” Sirius said.

“Yeah, but it’s not about hands, it’s about brooms, my broom reached the halo first.” You argued back. 

“It’s not about brooms, we said whoever gets there first, and clearly I did.” 

“Sirius you can’t bend the rules so you win all the time! Besides, if I had stretched my hand I would’ve reached first so it doesn’t count.” 

“It does because you didn’t!” 

“James tell him!” You said. 

“No James, tell her!”

James sighed exasperated and hit his head against the handle of his broom “Just fucк each other already,” he mumbled, not that either of you heard it. 

“What?” You asked with a frown. 

“You know what?" He snapped, sitting straight "Neither of you won! And your mini air races when practicing? They’re OVER! No more broom races until official race day and then you’ll admit the other is a faster flier and this bickering will be forgotten.” 

“But James!” Both you and Sirius argued. 

He gave you both a stern look, and you shot your mouth. “Fine then, till the race we’ll know.” 

Sirius nodded “Truce?” He said offering you his hand. You took a deep breath and shook it. 

Once you were back in the ground Sirius called you with a smirk “Hey (Y/N)! Bet I can get to the common room before you do.” He then started running. 

“You wish,” you said running behind him.

James sighed again “We said no races!” 

“You said no flying,” Sirius shouted back. 

You then turned to James with a smile as you ran “He’s right, this is running.” 

James rolled his eyes but took off running behind the two of you anyway. The only thing that sometimes shut the two of you up, was when someone else won, and he had the longest legs. In the end, he was indeed the first one to arrive, letting himself fall on the couch as you and Sirius fought your way inside. 

“Prongs, you’re here?” You said out of breath when you saw him laying on the couch, regaining his own breath. 

He frowned “Since when do you call me Prongs?” He asked amused. 

“Oh… um… sorry, it must have slipped,” You said as you sat down “I blame Sirius for it.” 

James laughed “No, it’s fine. You can call me Prongs.” He took a long breath, “But stop blaming Pads for everything.” 

“In my defence. It really is ALWAYS Sirius’ fault.” 

He made the face of a man that agreed with your statement. “James!” Sirius complained he noticed. 

James grimaced in return “For fucкs sake, take me away from these two,” he said grabbing a pillow and placing it over his head dramatically. 

You and Sirius exchanged a glance, yeah, you may be bickering all the time now, but it was all friendly banter, James was overreacting. 

“Morning,” you heard Remus say as he came down the stairs “Just got here from practice?” 

You nodded “And they’re getting on my nerves Moony,” James grumbled. 

Remus raised an eyebrow at the two of you “We just asked him to decide who’d been the winner of our mini race,” you said innocently.

 He nodded, understanding. “Leave poor James alone, he’s been doing so much to prepare your race that… he might actually be sick of quidditch by the end of it.” 

James instantly reacted to Remus’ words, removing the pillow from his head “I would never!” 

You were sweaty from so much running so you excused yourself and went for a short shower, Lily was preparing her backpack when you walked out of the bathroom, using your wand to dry your hair. “Today we’re picking the fluxweed together, right?” You asked her. 

She nodded “Just wait for me, will you? We’ll walk to the greenhouse together, don’t think of going by yourself.” 

“Of course, I’ll wait for you Lils, don’t worry about it,” you told her with a smile and finished both closing the buttons of your shirt, and shoving your stuff quickly in your bag "Ready for breakfast?"

Lily nodded and the two of you walked down to the common room together. The boys were secretly talking to each other on the corner close to the fire, looking all conspiratoriall as they did. "You coming for breakfast?" Lily asked them. Remus turned to look at her, his brown eyes seemed more golden than usual, you wondered if it was because of the lighting in the room.

"Yes, we’ll be down in a minute tho, we’re helping Peter finish his Divination essay.” 

You raised an eyebrow at that statement. Since when did they help Peter with essays? Well, Remus definitely would help Peter, he’d probably help anyone that asked nicely. But the rest? Sirius? That was a bit sus, to say the least. But Lily was already walking out of the common room, so after giving them one more look, you followed her. Maybe they were planning another prank like the rain on the main hall. 

Once you were downstairs, the two of you walked towards the great hall. Mary, Marlene, Beth and some others were already there, having breakfast. You greeted them all with a smile “Good morning!” You said as you sat down. 

“Morning,” responded Mary as she looked up from her copy of The Daily Prophet. 

“Anything new?” You asked her, nodding towards the paper. 

She shook her head “Just the wаr,” she replied somberly “Apparently some deatheaters went on a кiling spree. They’re trying to get the muggle-borns.” 

“An older lady was кiled,” Marlene continued “Marsha Allenty, she was a muggle-born auror.” 

You shuddered at the thought. Muggle-borns first, half-borns next, it wouldn’t take them too long to destroy half the wizarding population if they kept going. Someone had to stop them. You were about to say something when the owls started coming in.  

Your family owl, Barnaby, flew down, dropping a package in front of you. You looked at it. The (Y/LN) family seal was stamped over the elegant wrapping. It had to be from your mother. You opened the package, it contained several things. Some galleons, sweets from your favourite bakery back at home, which instantly told you they’d been travelling. A box filled with different potions, and some ingredients to brew shampoo and other beauty-related things. A special potions booklet and a small velvet box. 

You opened it and there was a ring inside, a thin metal piece with some engravings on it and a gem at the top, held by 4 small pieces of metal, two shaped like a star and two shaped like a moon. 

“What is it?” asked Beth, leaning into you from the side. 

“A gift from my parents,” you responded, taking the reins out of the box to show it to her. 

“It’s stunning,” she told you. “Do you know what that is?” She said pointing at the stone. 

“Moonstone, isn’t it?” You asked, Beth nodded. “Mom cares a lot about the magical properties of stones,” you explained. 

“And the metal is silver,” she said turning the ring around, taking a look at the little seal on the inside. 

“Silver?” You frowned, taking a closer look “You’re right, that’s different. She’s never given me a silver piece before.” 

“Maybe she thinks you’re old enough?” She asked with a shrug. 

You nodded, but it wasn’t that. Your mom always gave you gold things. She said the protective value of it was a lot higher than any other metal. Even the necklace Sirius had given you in the vacation, made of brass, was turned into gold with a special spell she had, a spell that would leave all the magical properties of the item intact. 

“Well, whatever the reason, she did pick a beautiful ring,” you said, finally sliding it through one of your fingers. 

“Do you know what magic it’s got?” 

You shook your head, looking through the box to see if your mom had written any kind of letter. You didn’t find any and shrugged it off “Maybe she just thought it was pretty…” 

“What was pretty?” Asked Peter, who appeared almost out of nowhere along with the boys. 

“(Y/N) was gifted a new ring,” said Mary before taking a bite from her eggs. 

You raised your hand so Peter could see it “Got it on a package from my mom.”

“Moon and stars, eh?” He asked with a raised eyebrow “Interesting choice of symbolism, isn’t it?” 

You looked at Peter and shrugged. He was right, it was an interesting choice of symbolism. Your mom, like you, had an affinity to divination. Maybe she knew something you didn’t “My mom loves that stuff,” you told him, and lowered your hand back to the table, taking your fork to dig into a sausage. 

The boys sat further down on the table. Just close enough to still be able to talk to everyone already sitting there. You left early to go check on the fireworms. Remus and you had decided to split the days in which you had to feed them, and today was your turn. When you arrived at the tunnel entrance you looked around to make sure no one had followed you and entered as quickly as possible. 

“Lumus,” You whispered, and your wand lit up, making the dark tunnel navigable. You looked through the pockets of your robe and found the scrap of parchment Remus had made for you. “Revelio,” you said as you moved your wand over it, revealing a tiny map of the tunnels. You were sure you’d learn the way soon enough, but for now, the little map was indispensable.

You used the map to navigate the tunnel until you arrived at the little nook in which you’d hidden your fireworms. You grabbed some of the food in your backpack and gently placed it on the food trays you’d created with a couple of pumpkin juice caps. You looked at the little fireworms satisfied when you noticed one of them was shining, like a firefly. But the light travelled from the end of the tail, all the way through his body and towards his head, then with a small little sound, almost like a fairy burp, the fireworm caused a small ball of fire to come from his mouth. You looked at it amazed, and quickly put the small fire out with your wand. 

You grabbed your backpack and took out your charms book, trying to find a flames stopper or fire preventive spell as soon as possible. Soon enough you found something that could work and cast it all over the little fireworm habitat you and Remus had been building. After the spell was ready, you stayed for a couple of minutes to make sure they wouldn’t cause a fire that’d burn the entire castle down and once you were certain you let out a long sigh, not even realizing you’d been holding your breath. 

You were thrilled, your fireworms were doing excellent, the way you and Remus had taken care of them allowed them to develop in less time than the standard, which would guarantee the two of you really good grades. You had to tell Remus about it. Maybe you could tell him in divination. Shiit, divination! You were supposed to be in divination. You ran out of the little nook and used the map to find a shortcut towards the divination tower. Once outside you knocked on the door a couple of times and waited. Professor Spellman opened the door, letting you inside with a displeased glance. 

“I’m sorry for being late,” you mumbled as fast as possible. You walked inside and started walking towards Remus, who luckily, hadn’t been paired with anyone yet. 

“Miss (Y/LN),” Professor Spellman called, you turned to him “You will be working with Sybil today,” he said, pointing towards the small Ravenclaw girl. You swallowed but nodded and walked towards her table. You knew who she was, Remus had told you about her, and her story, and you’d probably exchanged a couple of words with her in the past, but you’d never really talked to her. 

“Hey,” you waved as you sat next to her, she waved back, with a small smile, and absentmindedly nudged her glasses back to their place. You looked at her for a minute, her hair might be messy, and you heard she wasn’t very popular, but she was very pretty non the less. 

Professor Spellman started talking and with a flick of his wand opened some cabinets, floating a teapot in front of each table, Leaf reading. You and Sybil brew the tea together, using some of the herbs suggested by the book for more accurate readings. And started chatting to each other after you served your respective teas. 

“Do you like divination?” She asked you. 

“I… uh… not that much, I’ve had some experiences,” you stuttered. 

“Sad readings?” She asked, with a sympathetic expression. 

You nodded, taking a sip of your tea “It’s always negative stuff with me,” you explained “Accurate, but negative.” You shuddered, “What about you? With your legacy and all?” 

“I don’t dislike it,” she told you with a smile, “I don’t like getting sad readings either but it’s fun to know bits of the future, for example, the other day I had these feeling that it was going to rain, so I put on some rain boots before going to Care for Magical Creatures, some Hufflepuffs and even other kids from my year were throwing looks at me, but when it started raining and everyone’s shoes got ruined, but mine didn’t, it was completely worth it.”

You smiled at her story “I don’t get those kinds of feelings,” you said “But it’s nice to meet someone that enjoys it, maybe you could help me enjoy it too.” 

Eventually, you both finished your teas and exchanged teacups. You took a deep breath and eventually leaned over to look at her cup, hoping there would be something good in there. You exhaled when you saw a small little butterfly on the cup. Butterflies were good, they meant change, they meant personal growth, they meant… Images flashed through your eyes, and you breathed heavily a couple of times, trying to regain composure. 

Sybil knew exactly what was going on, she’d been through it several times before too. So she looked at you with concern. “What did you see?” She asked in a steady tone. 

“Nothing bad,” was the first thing you managed to muster, “just… you’ll give a prophecy soon. A very important one, I saw Professor Dumbledore, he seemed really interested in what you had to say.” She nodded at your words, writing everything you said down on a piece of paper, then you looked at her, placing a hand on her arm “Sybil, this prophecy… it looked like it was going to be dark,” you said “but it’s one of those that will change the world.” 

She nodded, taking in all the information you’d given her. She did not doubt a single word you said. And you were glad she did, sometimes visions as such were hard to comprehend, and that’s if the person even cared for it. 

“Are you ok?” She asked then. 

You nodded “I– uh…” you looked at her tea “You will have a period of transformation and positive change, like the metamorphosis of a butterfly,” you told her, making an effort to read the rest of her tea leaves “You should, uh… embrace the opportunities that’ll come your way and also let yourself spread your wings.” 

She laughed in response “That’s my fortune?” She asked motioning towards her tea cup. 

 “Yeah,” you nodded, sounding very certain about it “You must accept your uniqueness,” you added for good measure, after all, humor is one of the best ways to cope with such things “And me? What’s my destiny?” 

She adjusted her glasses and took a peak at your cup “I see… stars, the moon, they’re surrounding something,” she said “A small animal, maybe a hare, or… a wildcat?” 

You looked at her with a frown “Did you say the moon and stars?” 

She nodded, tilting the cup towards you. And she was right, the moon was there, the stars too, and… the small animal? That was a fox. You took a deep breath and showed her the ring your mom had given you “My mom sent me this,” you told her “also moon and stars symbolism.” 

Sybil raised an eyebrow “Does she have an affinity with divination?” She asked. You nodded in response “Then it must mean something…” she said, picking up her book and flipping through it “But I can’t find anything about the moon and stars in the book.” 

“Interpret it,” Said Professor Spellman as he walked by, looking at Sybil with a stern face. 

She nodded, sliding towards the back of the chair, Professor Spellman was imposing, to say the least. “I uh… I see the moon and the stars, they’re close, to a… it’s a–“ 

“It’s a fox,” you told her “The animal, it’s not a wild cat, it’s a fox.” 

“A fox, right!” she agreed, “and I– are those flowers?” She asked looking deeper into the cup. By then your little interaction had piqued the attention of some other students from the class, they were watching the two of you intently. “I– I may be getting things twisted but… according to your cup, the moon and the star will find a blossoming love with…” she hesitated “with the fox.” 

Everyone around the classroom laughed, but the professor raised a hand to quiet them, looking into the cup himself “Sybil’s reading is accurate.” He said, “Maybe (Y/N) has an idea what those symbols might mean?”

You sat straighter, looking at the professor “I seem to be surrounded by symbolism today,” you told him “But I’m sorry sir, I’ve got no idea what it may mean. Perhaps I’ll adopt a fox or something? Shower it with love and stuff,” You lied. While you may have not been able to understand the whole symbolism, there was one thing you knew for certain: you were the fox. 

The Professor nodded, even if he didn’t look convinced, and moved towards someone else’s table. You exhaled, only then realizing you’d been holding your breath. “He can be very intimidating, right?” Sybil asked you. 

You nodded “Definitely.” She looked like she wanted to tell you something else “What is it?” You asked her. 

“Just.. be careful, yeah? The moon, it– it looks a little mennacing on your cup. Like… like it could be dangerous.” 

You frowned “As in, maybe I shouldn’t go out tonight dangerous or…?” 

“No, no,” she shook her head “I don’t know how to explain it, just… keep that in mind, will ya?” 

You nodded, placing a hand on her arm to reassure her “And you’ll be a famous fortune teller soon,” you told her with a smile “How does that feel?” 

She shrugged “I always expected to end up as one, I guess it’s nice to get a prediction of what you’ll be, makes it a little more certain.” 

“And you trust my predictions?” You asked her with a shrug.

She nodded furiously “Of course I do! It’s not every day a fairy tells you your fortune.” 

“I’m sorry?!” You asked her, shocked. 

“I saw it in your cup,” she explained “I didn’t mean to pry, but it made sense… your divination affinity, your charm and magnetism, your talent while flying… You’re part fairy, aren’t you?”  

You looked at her mortified, your parents had done so many things to keep that hidden and now Sybil just guessed it, “You can’t tell anyone,” you told her in a very serious tone. 

She smiled at you “I wasn’t planning to, your secrets are safe with me.” You smiled at her after that, you trusted her. 

Once the class was over you stood up, but she stayed in her seat “You don’t have another class?” You asked her politely. 

She shook her head “I’ve got arithmancy next, I took it as an optative.” 

You hummed in response “Have fun then,” You told her with a smile “I’ve got Magical Theory.”

“Good luck, I heard Professor Pendragon, can be very strict.” 

“No worse than Spellman,” you whispered, so that the Professor in question, who was talking to some other students wouldn’t hear you. Sybil laughed and you finally pulled your backpack from your seat and started walking outside but you were stopped by Professor Spellman. 

“Miss (Y/LN),” he said, and you walked closer to him “Be very careful tonight,” he warned, “there was something odd on your cup, and as you may know, today is Full Moon.” 

You nodded “Thanks, Professor.” Clearly, he saw the same thing Sybil had seen, which was mildly disturbing, but alas, your day had to continue.

Once you were outside of the classroom you spotted the boys a few stairs down. Peter was walking with the girls, you assumed towards their Ancient Studies class, while James, Sirius and Remus walked together, they were walking towards the east wing, to Magical Theory, the class you shared. You had the intention to catch up with them, but they were looking as suspicious as they had looked earlier in the common room, talking in whispers to each other, heads so close they could easily bump together. You decided it was best to let them be, you’d been hanging out with them so much lately, they probably needed some space. So you slowed down your pace, just far enough so they could get their much-needed privacy. 

Eventually, you reached the Magical Theory classroom, and when you arrived you found James waiting at the door, he quickly pulled you towards him and said “She’s gonna be my team.”  

You looked at him with a shrug “Your team? for what?” 

Remus, who was close by responded “The teacher said we’ll be working on a team project, Sirius and I are working together, so James was waiting to claim you as his team.” 

“Besides, I really need your help,” James added. 

You frowned, and asked, a little confused “With the project?” 

“No, with Evans!” He whispered.

Realization down on you and you looked at Remus “He didn’t even ask you to be on his team, did he?” 

He shook his head in response, mouthing a “nope.” 

You laughed, “All right then, we’re a team,” you told James “You can ask me all you need when we–“ You cut yourself off “Wait, Remus! I’ve got to tell you something…” 

“All right, if you gave your teams, please take a seat, class will start.” You heard the teacher say. 

“Nevermind,” you  told him as you turned back since James was pulling you into a table near the back “You’re not planning to pay much attention then?” 

“Don’t scorn me like that,” he complained “We’ll pay attention, I just– really need your advice.” 

"In this project, you will embark on a captivating journey to craft your very own magical artifact. Channel your imagination, drawing inspiration from the likes of invisibility cloaks and rememberalls, as you fashion an extraordinary creation of your own making," the teacher commenced, igniting a spark of curiosity among the class, even James, who had been mortified about Lily just minutes earlier was paying attention.

"Each artifact should possess a distinct purpose, serving its intended function with finesse. You will delve into the depths of your creativity, meticulously designing a blueprint that brings your vision to life. Fear not, for guidance shall be provided, I will walk with you every step of the way“ the teacher reassured, yet a chorus of playful groans filled the air in response to the mention of project design papers.

"Ah, I understand your sentiment," the teacher chuckled, acknowledging the students' apprehension. "But worry not! The journey shall be as enchanting as the destination itself. These project design papers will serve as a canvas to weave together the threads of your imagination, showcasing the brilliance of your creation. Embrace the opportunity to bring your ideas to fruition, weaving magic into the tangible realm. Who knows, you may be the next creators to hold the rights to an incredibly useful device that will sell millions.“ With these words, a wave of anticipation and excitement rippled through the classroom, as students began envisioning the magical artifacts they would soon breathe life into.

“Well, that’s an interesting project,” you said as you started writing down some ideas in your notebook. 

“It’s brilliant, we could ask him to help us with the map!” 

“What map?” You asked while raising an eyebrow. 

“Oh… sorry,” he said “I thought for a minute that you– nevermind. You need to help me with Lily.” James had gotten so used to hanging around you and the boys at the same time for a moment he thought you already knew about the Marauders Map. 

You sighed “Of course James. Tell me what happened,” you said, turning to him “but please write some ideas down as you do.” 

He nodded, and started scribbling on his piece of paper “You see, since we kissed back at Marlene’s party–“

“–James that was a game, you can’t be hung up on that.” You interrupted. 

“No, you don’t understand, there was a connection.” 

You rolled your eyes, while you did think Lily maybe had a little bit of a crush on James, you also knew she wasn’t anywhere ready to admit it. Especially with James’ incessant flirting since like 4th year. Marlene had told you about it. “James, it sounds ridiculous. I kissed Remus then too, and I’m not hung up on it.” 

He narrowed his eyes at that “but you seemed to enjoy it.” 

You shrugged “Can’t say he’s a bad kisser.” And Remus is handsome, you thought “But that’s not the point anyway. What happened?” 

“Lily seems more willing to talk to me lately,” he explained.

“Well, that’s lovely, just give her enough space so you don’t make her feel pressured. Be kind and nice… and stuff.” 

“I was thinking of making this very grand gesture on the quidditch–“ 

You shook your head “James Potter,” you warned “If you so much as try something like that you will scare her away. She’s barely realizing she might like you, don’t do THAT!” 

“What did you just say?” 

“Don’t do it!” You insisted.

“No,” he shook his head, “before that.” 

“I said that she’s barely realizing she might have a c… fuck.” 

“You think… You think she likes me?” He asked, in a very small high pitched tone.

“I– wouldn’t go as far as to say that…” he looked so sad, “…yet.” 

“Yet?” He asked, perking up as a surge of excitement ran through his body.

You nodded “I… think she’s warming up to you,” you told him sincerely “Just don’t do anything that could scare her away, please.” 

“Like what?” 

“Like a scary grand gesture for example.” 

The professor walked toward you “Any ideas so far?” He said looking at James’ messy writing. 

James nodded “A confetti cannon that, after using it, leaves confetti wherever you go,” he said, and read another idea “a pair of shoes that make the wearer constantly trip, a teapot that won’t stop whistling, even without any tea on it, and a buble liquid that makes ticklish bubbles.” He said proudly. 

You stared dagger at him and covered his notes with your some parchment “It’s still a work in progress,” you told the teacher with the most charming smile you could muster, “James and I are still looking for better ideas.” 

The professor nodded and kept walking around the classroom. 

“Tripping shoes?” You asked in desbeilif “an ever whistling teapot? Are you for real–“

“–In my defence, I’m not great at multitasking.”

“No shiit Sherlock,” you told him.

“The tripping shoes could be funny tho.”

“Yeah, and the tickling bubbles are useful, for pranks, but Professor Pendragon wants us to invent the next invisibility cloak, I don’t think he’d be too satisfied with any of those options.” 

“What about a ring that’s also an invisibility cloak?” 

You rose your eyebrow at him “You mean like in the Lord of the Rings?” 

“What’s the Lord of the Rings?” 

You gasped, offended, you too had grown on a pure-blood wizard family but at least you knew the Lord of the Rings, “The hobbit?! Does not ring any bells?” He shook his head “It’s a very popular muggle book, you should really brush up on your muggle literature. Perhaps you should have taken muggle studies instead.”

“Hey!” He complained, “Don’t bash me for not being a literature genius like you and Remus.”

“I bet even Sirius would know about The Lord of the Rings.” 

“How much?” 

“10 sickles?” You asked. 

“Oh, I’m really, really sure Sirius won’t know either,” James said “Make it 20.” 

You rose your eyebrow at his challenge and nodded “Deal,” you said raising your hand to shake his, successfully closing the deal. 

“So… the magical ring’s off the table?” 

“No, I… I don’t think it’s a bad idea, maybe we can make a magical ring, just, with different powers instead.” 

“Like…?”

You shrugged in response “We could make two rings that always find each other.” 

“Ohhh, and I could give one to Lily!” James said excitedly, you threw him a look “Like… not now... When we start dating… obviously.” 

“Love the confidence of that statement,” you said with a smile, thinking of how James had used when instead of if. 

He winked “What about a bracelet that lets you communicate with someone else, like a… muggle telephone.” 

“Or a walkie talkie…” you agreed.

“A what?” He asked. 

“You’re joking, right?” 

“I- uh… yeah,” he replied, not confidently at all. 

“Damn it, James, you urgently need some muggle classes.” You said and started drawing a pair of walkie-talkies on the notebook, trying to explain their use, and how they worked, even if you weren’t entirely certain of how they did. “Can’t believe none of you thought it’d be useful to have some of them around. Especially for your pranks.” 

“Yeah, me neither,” he agreed “You know smoke signals aren’t really the most effective.” 

“Surely you didn’t try that,” You said confidently, his expression gave him away “You did?!?” 

He shook his head, letting out a long sigh “We were in detention for days.” 

You chuckled  at that “At least you have the little paper planes now,” you said, remembering the day Remus had sent one to the boys, same day he took you to the lake because you were feeling upset. 

“They’re useful, but they can be intercepted.” He explained, “Not very good for top secret plans.” 

You laughed, of course, James would consider his prank plans worthy of the Top Secret title. “What about a bracelet?” You asked then.

“A magical bracelet? Sounds good, also with walkie-talkie abilities?” 

“Could be more convenient than a ring…” you responded, “Not really sure about it tho."

“What about a pair of glasses that can help you see better in the dark?” He asked, “For those times where you can’t use lumos, maybe you lost your wand, or you wanna be inconspicuous.” 

“Night vision googles, I dig it.” 

“Exactly, but smaller, more practical to carry around.” 

“Well, I guess we’ve got a few solid ideas then,” you said as you started picking up your things, you and James had stayed brainstorming together for a little longer than you realized “Class is over?”

James nodded “Moony and Pads left already,” he said as he looked towards the table your friends had been sitting on, “probably to the great hall, we said we’d eat together.” 

“Peter too?” You asked him, he nodded.

“Wanna join us?” 

You shrugged in response, “though you were planning a prank or something,” you said as you walked towards the door with him by your side. 

He frowned “Why?” 

“All the secretive talks? You’ve been awfully suspicious today.” 

“What? No- that’s… it’s not. We’re not suspicious.” 

You gave him an incredulous look but nodded “No, not at all,” you added sarcastically. 

Once you were in the hall you spotted Remus and Sirius walking ahead of you and remembered you had to tell him about your fireworms so you picked up the pace. You walked behind him, for a minute, but he was so entertained in his conversation with Sirius you decided it’d be funny to tease him, so you extended your arms, and standing in your toes –because Remus was actually pretty tall– you decided to cover his eyes with your palms “Guess who–“ you started, but didn’t even get enough time to finish since Remus practically jumped out of your grasp in seconds, hissing as the silver of your new ring came into contact with his skin. It didn’t leave a mark but it did hurt him like hell. 

Sirius, being quick to figure the new ring you wore had silver on it, looked at you with panic, but you didn’t notice, you were too concerned over Remus’ reaction. “I– I’m sorry Rem, didn’t mean to scare you…” you stammered “I… I was just trying to tease.” James and Sirius finally relaxed when they noticed you’d thought Remus was just scared. 

“It’s ok…” he said with a forced smile as he extended his hand, a safe distance between your ring and himself “I wasn’t expecting you to come up from behind like that.” 

You didn’t seem convinced but nodded, concern still evident on your face. “I uhh… I was trying to catch up to actually,” You finally changed the subject. James had gotten in between you and Remus as you walked, so you leaned a little towards the front to see your friend better “It’s about our fireworms, they’re already breathing fire.” 

“What? I thought they wouldn’t do it until they were like a month old,” said Sirius. 

“Exactly!” You nodded excitedly “They weren’t, our caring must have been phenomenal. Our babies are overachievers.” 

“You’re keeping them together?” James asked. 

You nodded “Co-parenting,” you paused “We split tasks and that way we make sure we don’t burn down the school by accident.” 

Remus nodded in agreement “It’s easy to remember to feed them when it’s only a couple times a week instead of every single day.” 

“And we found an excellent spot to keep them too, away from stress and anything that could make them nervous.” 

“Well, the overachievers are not the worms,” Sirius said giving you and Remus a look. 

James agreed “We just gave ours to Peter, in exchange for some other homework.” 

“By the way (Y/N), mind taking care of them tomorrow too?” Remus asked politely.

“Sure thing,” you said, not thinking much of it. 

You had your lunch with the boys, the girls and Peter joined you a bit later and you all walked to Defense Against the Dark Arts together. Professor Nightshade was elegantly leaning on her desk when you arrived at her classroom. She looked a little tense. Like she wasn’t too excited about the class to come. 

Once most students were inside she shut the door with a wave of her wand “Today we will be going through the unforgivable curses.” She said, looking rather dejected “and while is not of my favourite classes to teach, we must delve into the subject, especially in dark times like these in which you might need to defend yourselves from one of them.” 

The entire class was silent, everyone was paying attention to every single one of her words. It wasn’t uncommon to hear about the war, it was on the paper every single day, but most students chose to avoid and ignore the subject, so even if the war was going on, it was outside, Hogwarts was safe. But being confronted with it, so upfront, felt, well, it felt eerie and scary. 

“Can someone name the unforgivable curses?” She asked. 

Lily raised her hand “The кilling course, Imperius curse and…” 

“The cruciatus curse,” Finished Sirius with a heavy breath. 

“Correct!” Seraphina said, “10 points for Gryffindor… Indeed those are the three unforgivable curses, and they are unforgivable because…”

“Because they violate the rights of whoever is being cursed by them,” you responded. 

“Can any of them be avoided?” 

You shook your head “Only very experienced wizards can resist Imperio.” 

“And countered?” 

“Physical barriers might block some of the curses, but there is no known spell that can do such a thing.” Said Remus. 

“No one has ever survived a кilling course either,” Imogen Potts added.  

“Seems like you’ve been doing all the readings accordingly,” the teacher said satisfied “Now, you know the theory, but today we will have a small demonstration.” The students gasped, but Seraphina nodded heavily “You must know what you’re up against,” she pulled out a box and opened it, a butterfly flew out of it, about the size of your palm. Seraphina let the small insect fly freely for a minute before pointing her wand straight at her and whispering “Imperio.”  

The butterfly started flying around, making circles around the class before landing on Marlene’s nose. She was sitting beside you, so you looked at her in awe as the butterfly batted its wings softly near her face. But then Seraphina changed the course, whispering “Cruicio.” The butterfly fell from Marlene’s nose and onto your table, right next to your book as it batted its wings helplessly. You looked at it with concern, Seraphina herself looked mortified as she inflicted pain on the small creature.

You gave her an imploring look, and that was all it took for her to stop. The small butterfly was released from the pain and started flying all around the classroom, desperately looking to get away from the place. Once the butterfly was close enough to her, she whispered the last curse and after a green flash came from her wand, the butterfly stopped flying, slowly falling to the ground, like a leaf from a tree. 

The whole classroom was quiet. You stood up and carefully picked up the small butterfly from the floor. Looking at it pitifully as you handed it over to Seraphina, who held the box out for you to place it inside. “As you’ve seen, these curses are not only lethal but terrifying as well. There is a reason why, whoever dares to infringe them, will never be forgiven.” 

“They will go to Azkaban,” whispered Peter. 

“What a pitiful destiny,” agreed Sirius. 

Professor Nightshade sighed heavily “I think this is enough for today, you may go.”

Students nodded and started placing their things into their backpacks. When you stood up, you walked towards her “I want to be in the duelling club.” You told her “I… I don’t want to end up like the butterfly.” 

Seraphina looked at you, a sorrowful look in her eyes, she understood the implications of what you’d said. She knew how heavy your statement was. And she nodded “Of course darling, you’ll be a brilliant addition to the club.” 

You nodded, satisfied and finally caught up with your friends. You went straight to Lily “At what time must we go get the fluxweed?” You asked. 

“It’s supposed to be when the moon it’s at its highest point,” she told you “I checked the astronomy section of the paper in the morning, apparently at around 11:30 pm.” 

“All right, we can totally hang out together till then, right? Do you have any plans?” 

She shook her head “We had study club, but we cancelled it today, I was thinking of maybe going to the library to get some stuff and then studying or just chilling back at the common room.” 

“It’s settled then,” you told her with a smile, walking alongside her towards the library. Since you had already finished most of your assignments you decided to walk through the long bookshelf to see if you found anything that caught your eye, while Lily looked for some more specific books. And as you walked over the edge of one of the bookshelves you bumped into Nina, the small Ravenclaw girl from the study grup that had a crush on Remus. “Hey love,” you said politely. 

“Hi,” she replied quietly. To be fair, Nina really wanted to dislike you when she first encountered you. She was jealous of how close you and Remus had gotten in such a short period of time, but you had always treated her with kindness, genuinely willing to help her, if she had any questions, or needed help with a particular spell; that, in the end, she couldn’t help but like you instead. In fact, she’d go as far as to say she admired you. She’d seen you practicing spells and she even went to one of the quidditch trainings, with the intention to ogle at Remus who had gone too, but she was far too entranced by you when you were flying that she almost completely forgot about her original reason for going. 

“You looking for Rem?” You asked her politely. 

She shook her head “He cancels study sessions at least once every couple of weeks,” she told you “Originally, only Lily held the sessions by herself but she got very stressed without him to help her with the younger students, so they decided it was best to cancel them altogether.” Remus cancelled them? You thought, that’s odd. “What about you? Are you looking for a book in particular?” 

You shook your head “Just something to entertain me while I hang out with Lily.” 

“Oh, I think I can help you with that,” she said with a smile, bringing her backpack in front of her and opening the zipper “I actually got my hands on this book out last week, I read it in days, it’s about a werewolf who falls in love with a wizard.” she explained “It’s not very accurate with the actual nature of werewolves, but the key points are there. It’s a very fun romantic novel If you’re into that kind of stuff.” She said taking a book out of her bag and placing it on the table. “Oh and this one,” she grabbed a smaller book “It’s filled with simple yet practical spells that we don’t have in the curriculum, such as ways to fix glasses and open locks. It’s fantastic if you want something a bit more educational.” 

You looked at her with a smile “These are fantastic Nina, thank you!” You said with genuine excitement.

She smiled at you, blushing just a little at your reaction “It’s nothing. I’m– I really like books,” she told you with a smile “If you ever need new recommendations, I’m down.” 

You smiled at her “You’re the best!” You told her picking the books up from where she left them “It was lovely seeing you.” 

She nodded, and was about to say something when Lily showed up, looking for you “I’ve got the books, ready to go?” She asked, and then noticed you weren’t alone “Oh, hey Nina! What’s up?” 

“She lent me a couple of books,” you said, raising the books you held in between your arms so Lily would notice.

Lily nodded “Oh, Nina is really good at picking out books, trust me.” Lily said, “Mind if I take (Y/N) with me now?” 

Nina shook her head “We were just doing some small talk.” She said, with a bit of a blush as both you and Lily waved your goodbyes. 

As you walked outside the library Lily gave you a look “So… you’re friends with Nina now?” 

You shrugged “She’s pretty nice actually. I don’t know when it happened, but she stopped hating me over Remus, and now she’s really kind, she even recommended books!” 

“You probably just charmed her with your personality and looks, like you did with pretty much everyone,” Lily teased with a smile. 

“Oi, shut up Evans, you’re probably more charming than I am,” you said nudging her in a friendly manner. She nudged you back and the two of you walked together towards the common room, chatting about your due assignments, and your favourite books. Since Lily was a muggle-born, she knew even more about muggle books than you, and it was fun hearing about all of them, from her favourites to those she didn’t like all that much.

Once you arrived at the common room you both found a comfortable place, she sat on the small round table by the stairs and you went straight for one of the couches, letting yourself comfortably lay on it while opening your backpack to pick one of the books Nina had recommended, you grabbed each on one hand, staring at the covers, trying to decide which one to go for first. After weighing both of them in your head, you decided to read the spell book and leave the romance novel on the side table. 

Nina hadn’t been lying, the book was indeed practical, and you tried casting some of the most complicated or useful spells as you read, practicing the wand movements and incantations as Lily focused on her homework.

At some point Mary and Marlene went in, they were giggling about something that happened so you decided to leave your book next to the others and join their conversation. 

“Oh my god, (Y/N)! You won’t believe what happened.” Mary said. 

You smiled “Oh, do tell” 

“We were talking to Moaning Myrtle, she said she overheard Holden talk about Marlene with some other boys, that she was an incredible beater and stuff.” 

“Really?” You said smiling wider “I mean, no doubt, she’s amazing!  But he said that?”

Mary nodded “According to Myrtle, that is… She also said some boys have been saying you’re part Veela because of your charm, be careful they may try and throw you into the water to see if you’re a good swimmer.” 

You laughed at that, you were a good swimmer, but they couldn’t have been more off with their guesses. “So… what are you waiting for Mars? You have to make your move!” 

“Make my move?” She gasped. 

You nodded “Well, at the party you seemed pretty close, admit you like him or–”

“–Kiss him unexpectedly,” completed Mary. 

“Yeah, that too.” You nodded.

“Well…” Marlene said taking a deep breath “I’m thinking I could– I wanted to invite him to Hogsmeade over the weekend, actually.” 

“That’s brilliant!” You told her “Isn’t that tomorrow?”

She nodded in response “You coming too? I heard Sirius and James mention they wanted to show you around.” 

“They haven’t told me anything about it, but I guess I’ll tag along with ya’ll anyway.”

At that point Lily stood up from her place and stretched, yawning softly “What time is it?”  

“10:30,” answered Marlene after looking at her wrist watch “You done?”

She nodded “But we have to stay up for at least an hour,” Lily complained.

“Why?” Mary asked. 

“We’re going to harvest some fluxweed,” you responded instead. 

“Oh… because it’s full moon,” Marlene acknowledged. 

You nodded “When are you getting yours?” 

“Marlene ordered them from a fancy potion supply store.” 

“That was allowed?” you asked, surprised.

Marlene shrugged “Not sure, but I highly doubt Slughorn will find out, if anything, we can say we picked them out with you.”

“Sure,” Lily said, sitting down on the sofa next to you, placing your feet on top offer lap to make some space. You made a move to bring your feet down but she shook her head “It’s alright, rest up, you’ve been awake since like 5 am, haven’t you?” You nodded, letting your feet on to lay over her lap “You should just tell James to screw off and sleep in, I can tell you’re not a morning person.” 

You laughed “I wish, but I want to be in top shape for the game and… to be honest, I’m still getting used to my new broom, that’s why I’ve been flying every morning.” Out of nowhere, a pillow was thrown towards your face “Oi, what was that for?” You asked looking at Marlene, who’d been responsible for it. 

“Show off,” she said “I need time to practice with my new broom,” she teased “and then she goes and flies like a professional every single damn time.” You opened your mouth to try to speak but closed it soon after, Marlene continued talking “James has been making the training even tougher so we keep up with her.” 

“Sorry,” you said then “I guess I just really like flying.” After all, it’s in my blood, you thought. You wondered if you’d ever trust them enough to tell them about it, the answer was pretty simple, you already did, and you wanted to, but you knew how dangerous it was.

You stayed talking with the girls for a while, Marlene told you about the time she got on the quidditch team, Lily talked about being exceptionally good at potions and being invited to an exclusive party with Slughorn and Mary told you about the private classes she had been taking with Madam Pomfrey, about all the new potions and spells she had learned. 

“It’s finally 11,” said Lily when Mars finished the story about the worst date she had gone on, she’d been invited to a magical restaurant, that had been jinxed by an angry customer the previous day, it had been absolute mayhem. 

You stood up, stretching yourself “We should probably get going,” you said with a smile. She nodded and picked her backpack up, taking out a piece of paper and handing it over. You looked at her puzzled.

“It’s a nigh pass, I asked McGonagall for it,” she told you “We can go out and Filnch won’t say a thing.” 

“Oh nice,” you said looking at the paper, boy, how easy would it be to make duplicates of it, with different dates. “Shall we?” You asked tilting your head towards the door. She nodded and the two of you walked towards the portrait of the fat lady. 

“Good luck girls!” You heard Marlene shout from behind.

“Yeah, we’ll be back in the bedroom.”

Series Masterlist | Next Chapter

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[xiao-come-home]

Can't stop thinking about Neuvillette not liking christmas at first and you finally warming him up to it & realizing whats important :(

A/N: next day update lmao as soon as i posted it i saw official Christmas fontaine art skull emoji there might be some mistakes bc i was very focused on writing the original idea i had in my mind. i really hope it makes sense in the end bc at this point i kinda fried my brain. merry Christmas!

Christmas time is surely a time that is treasured by many people. For Neuvillette though? A time when people pass him by so many times and greet him so much, that the judge has a hard time keeping track of how many heard him saying them back.

Green, red, blue, orange - the bright colors used to give the poor, young dragon a headache, when he first appeared on this world. The jarring sound of bells rang in his head many hours later, in the dead of night. Furina’s Christmas-loving attitude certainly made it more challenging, as „the Christmas spirit,” like she always called it, had to be present every year.

The young dragon yelped slightly when his hair got tangled in some Christmas ornament; Neuvillette can’t say how much time has passed until he finally got that damned thing out of his long hair. Once stepping past the familiar door of his home, the judge plopped on his bed heavily, letting out a defeated sigh. The moonlight from the tall window kissed his face gently, making him stare at the mountains far, far away.

„Just what is this holiday about?” Little did Neuvillette know, but this question was about to remain unanswered for a very long time.

Years, if not centuries have passed, having now the chief of justice has fully accustomed to the human tradition. He passes shop windows and stalls decorated with colorful Christmas lights, and now they don’t seem that hurtful to his eyes. „It is simply a human tradition,” is what occupied his mind every year during the gift-giving period.

Neuvillette sat by his desk, his orchid eyes concentrated on the paper in front of him; the pen in his hand danced between his index and middle finger.

Christmas lights - check. Ornaments - check. Christmas carols that lady Furina loves singing - check. Christmas gifts - check. Sweet pastries for lady Furina (decorated accordingly to the holiday) - check. Additional clothing provided for the patrolling melusines - check.

For Neuvillette, this is what holidays were for a long time. Nothing changed, nothing appeared new or grew old. And for some reason, despite everything staying the same, gave people the same amount of joy every year.

Neuvillette expected it to go the same way as before. Well, mostly - because now, he’s spending his holidays with you, therefore making the tradition a little bit easier to understand. The smell of the finest Fontaine dishes was the most distinctive for his nose whenever he entered his home, the blinking lights could be seen from the other side of the street. He knew you wanted to decorate the house like you always used to, but this year kept you extraordinarily busy compared to the last one, so Neuvillette offered his help with the matter; your joy was more than convincing, giving the dragon’s heart a lovely squeeze in his chest.

He didn’t know that he owned so many ornaments until that day. He examined various pieces with caution, the way they glittered in different angles, and truly experienced how much of it stayed on his hands later on instead. He more than often paid attention to you rather than decorating, noting to himself that your eyes shine even more vividly than any other plastic sprinkled with glitter. He discovered how much your smile grew even more heavenly whenever you found a good spot for your wooden reindeer.

It would be a lie if Neuvillette said he didn’t enjoy preparing for this year’s upcoming celebration.

Now that he was the one ruling the nation of Fontaine, it was going to be his first Christmas without Furina and Focalors’ active presence.

And the day has finally come.

The fireplace kept crackling gently, hugging you two with comforting warmth. Neuvillette watches you rummage through your gifts, smiling to himself when you gasp blissfully, exclaiming that none of it was necessary, but it’s clear you’re enjoying it more than he ever could... except it's a lie.

Your eyes are absolutely mesmerizing with the shining lights around the room. Green, red, blue, orange - every color accents something else, that he yearns to watch over and over again. The bells that hung on most of his doors ring every time you move, causing his head to turn to the direction the sound came from - it means you’re nearby. Although he got better at avoiding his hair getting tangled in wintery trinkets, nowadays a laugh can be heard, before your hands swiftly take it out and place it on a table nearby. An unwise thought appeared in his mind, to clutter his hair with some other accessories, if it meant to hear you laugh once again. Instead, his hand travelled to one of his gifts - a thematically accurate hair clips - that held his hair nicely and allowed him to come home with fewer unwanted bibelots.

Earlier that day, Neuvillette’s eyes softened at the sight of melusines’ fluffy clothes embracing their tiny bodies. Some of them waved their gloved hands at the Chief of Justice during his walk to provide Furina with her favorite cakes, some of them scolded him for not wearing a scarf, while offering their woolen hats - to which Neuvillette politely declined. He kept thinking of Furina possibly overdoing her sweet tooth - so made a mental note to remind her to eat sensibly and not to open her gifts right after he leaves.

It takes him a while to truly realize in what state he’s in.

He did not need to have any list this year, no - it seemed to come naturally.

And it no longer felt like a chore.

„What’s got you smiling so much, hmm?” Your playful tone is evident in your voice, and the feeling of your elbow nudging his side is present right after. Neuvillette embraces you tightly, placing a sweet kiss on your forehead, and lets out a relieving sigh.

„I suppose this is what the holidays are truly about. Merry Christmas, ma chérie.”

As simple as it sounds, the kindness and small things matter more than anything when you have someone’s best interest at heart.

[runa-falls]

cat and mouse - 2

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x Supervillain(?)!Reader

Warnings: kissy kissy :3, mention of alcohol, you're broke. sorry.

a/n: i wrote this out today (what is now a few days ago) because i couldn't work on the other fic until i got this out of my system :) if there are plot holes its because i vomited out this chapter and threw it out like a dumbass. idk what Black-Cat's personality is like so i made it kinda mirror cat woman from the harley quinn show.

Summary: Every time you try to convince people it was an accident, you immediately get ratted out to the Spider. But really, it was! You don't know why you're being hunted, you didn't even do anything wrong. Yet.

w/c: 2.6k

part 1 part 3 part 4

masterlist

----

Nueva York’s friendly neighborhood Spider-Man, as he, and the world, likes to call him, is your official nemesis, or at least that’s what the city thinks.

You crumple up the half-soaked People magazine, filled with ‘juicy gossip about our favorite Spider and the new villain-of-the-week: Blaze’. Seriously, you might just become a villain if they keep calling you that.

You briefly forgot you swiped the news story off of a nearby food and entertainment stand (that’s barely holding up in the downpour) until you hear:

“Hey! You gotta pay for that!” 

You don’t. 

In your defense, it was only a dollar-fifty. And either way, it’s technically the Spider’s fault that you didn’t have a penny on you!

Honestly, if it were your choice, you’d never see his stupidly broad shoulders again. He truly is the bane of your existence and a major pain in your ass. You genuinely don’t understand why he even pays you any mind, it’s not like you are plotting to take over the city. You just want enough money to get some fries and a Koka Soda, and maybe a couple more black articles of clothing that aren’t covered in clawed-out stripes. 

Spider-Man? More like Cat-Man. 

You would say you’ve been “fighting” this man for weeks like the magazines insinuate, but it’s less violence than it is just you squirming out of his clutches and running away. You swear the Spider is a bloodhound. No matter where you are, or what you’re wearing, he always finds you. And you always get away. It’s actually quite pathetic. 

He goes: “It’s you again.”

You say: “No it’s not.” 

Then he has to say: “Blaze.” Like you’re some ultra-nemesis that has ruined his life.

And you can’t help but: “Stop fucking calling me that, dude.” Before you make a run for it. 

He catches up, obviously, either has you on the ground, against the wall, or holds you up so you can’t escape, but then you do. Every time. And he lets you. 

So really, it’s just fucking annoying. What a waste of a great plan and an excellently executed silent break-in!

You never asked for any of this. The fact you don’t have a flashy-ass elastic suit should be proof enough: You’re not a supervillain. 

But, when the opportunity to make a little more cash comes around, you can’t just say no. In your mind, the bigger the heist, the longer you can stay out of the public and away from him. 

And if the one girl on the team wants to make you a suit, how can you resist? The Spider has ruined all the other clothes you’ve worn (and not in a good way). 

You saw your new suit a few hours before you needed to meet up with the team. Felicia, or Black Cat as the rest of the group refers to her, is probably the most elegant and badass woman you’ve ever met. 

She has voluminous silver-blonde curls and sharp green eyes that match the deadliness of her talon-like retractable claws (which actually kinda remind you of someone…). Though she doesn’t have explosive energy inside of her as you do, her cat-like senses and martial art skills are almost as deadly. 

Felicia was happy to invite you over to her multi-million dollar penthouse to get ready and hang out a little before you needed to leave. 

She’s filing her nails into perfectly deadly points as you sit on her plush ultra-white couch next to the new suit, hands fiddling nervously together as you watch her pamper herself with extreme precision. There are two glasses of high-grade champagne in front of you on the glass coffee table. Yours is barely touched. Hers has been drained and refilled a couple of times throughout the hour. 

“You know, usually I’d work this job alone, but it’s a lot easier to get away when you leave a few maggots to distract the Spider. That’s what men are for. Us girls need to stick together, right?” 

Even her voice is elegant. 

“Yeah.” You croak out. You prefer to listen to her talk than say something dumb and non-villain-like. And yeah, you’ll admit you’re a tiny bit scared of her, but sometimes that’s something you have to go through when making friends. Right?

“Alright, we’ve got like 20 minutes. Go on, babe, try it on.” She loosely gestures to the suit, “Bathroom is in the hallway, first door to the left.” You stand promptly and shuffle over to her bathroom, taking a second to look back to send a grateful smile at her before you close the door. 

It almost resembles the one you saw on her the first day you met. The only difference is that yours is completely black and has a high collar neckline in contrast to her more provocative V-shaped suit.

There’s no fur-lining or silver details, just an invisible zipper that creates the illusion that this suit is painted onto your body. Felicia also provided a simple mask that you can pull over your head when you tie back your hair and some silver hair spray so you’re less recognizable to the general public. 

You stare in the mirror and smooth out any wrinkles down your torso with your gloved fingers. Alright. Now you look like a supervillain. 

Or at least a super-something. 

She makes you do a little spin. “You look lovely, darling.” A smirk pulled at her charming lips. “Absolutely, perfect.” 

—

Fuck.

So here you are, trying to break out of a bank that shut down around you as soon as you walked in. The two guys, who you never took the time to learn the names of, are freaking out, banging harshly against the metal doors that slammed shut in front of the exits. 

Felicia, on the other hand, is as cool as a cucumber, checking her nails like there isn’t a blaring siren and pulsing lights around her. 

So what now? You could probably blast the doors open with whatever comes out of your hands (you’re still not sure as you try to use your powers as a last resort). But that would leave a bunch of evidence that you were there and you didn’t come to knock down a whole building.

You walk over to her, trying to hide the anxiety that’s starting to bubble up inside of you. “What should we do?” She looks up from her manicured nails and looks at you. Then at the guys.

“Well, the boys seem a bit preoccupied,” As if to prove her point, one of them starts kicking the door, as if it would magically open up for him if he were to hit it harder and make more noise. She sighs, “I guess we could use the air duct that leads to the roof.” 

“Ok.”

So you follow her to one of the main offices in the building, watching as she easily rips off the cover of the vent and uses the desk for leverage to hoist her into the surprisingly spacious air duct. 

The chill evening breeze of Nueva York has never felt so good. Well, it has smelt better, but if garbage and crime-filled air meant you’re not going back to jail, you’ll take it. 

“Well, that could’ve gone better.” The Black Cat runs her fingers through her hair, pushing it back and out of her face. Of course, it falls perfectly over her shoulders. “So…I’ll see you later, yeah?” She’s leaving?

“Uh, yeah, sure. I’d love to!” 

“Great.” She walks to the edge of the roof and scales down the back of the building like it’s nothing. Look, it’s not that tall of a building, but still, you weren’t about to follow her down. You watch as her black-suited figure lands on the concrete ground, barely making a sound, before she sashays into the shadows of the city, disappearing into the night. God, she’s so cool. 

And then it’s just you. 

You sit yourself down and finally take a breath. Your first job as a villain and you didn’t even get to see the money. What are you getting yourself into?

You pull slightly at the elastic holding your hair together, regretting the tight pony that’s now giving you a major headache. Maybe this life isn’t for you. With, probably an overdramatic, sigh you push yourself up. Now to figure out how you’re getting out of here. 

–

Turns out you didn’t have too many options. As soon as you were about to take a serious ‘leap of faith’ and try to scale down the building, you were ambushed by a series of fwp, fwp, fwp’s and lifted from the ground. That probably saved your life now that you’re thinking back on it.

So, he found you. Big surprise. He’s practically stalking you at this point.

He takes you for a ride, holding you close as he swings from building to building, barely breaking a sweat. You’re actually surprised that you didn’t hurl all over his stupidly firm shoulder. You should have.

You don’t know why he brought you to the top of a half-constructed building, but you’re assuming he’s just trying to be dramatic again. Superheroes, right? 

You struggle against restraints when you’re finally set down, at least trying to lay in a more comfortable position as Spider-man stands over you. Not only are you fully wrapped in red webs, but your arms are also tied behind your back.

The Spider kneels down, watching you continue to struggle, “Alright, Hardy, give it up.” Hardy? Shit, he must think you’re Felicia. The black suit, the silver hair. Dammit. 

He takes off your mask before you can say anything, pulling out your loose hair tie with it, and boy, is he surprised to see it’s you.

“Wh–Blaze?” He takes off his mask like he can’t believe his fabric-covered eyes. His scarlet gaze not so subtly takes in your new look. A big change from the usual getup you wear. “What, uh,” When he finally meets your eyes, one of his gloved hands raises to rub at the back of his neck. Is he nervous? He briefly looks away from you, “What did you do to your hair?”

“Who cares! Let me out of these!” You glower at him, arms tugging at the luminous webs, “And you know I hate that stupid-ass name.”

“What the hell were you doing here? Why are you suddenly hanging out with a bunch of criminals?”

You give him a deadpan expression, “I’m a villain, remember.”

“Ah,” He slices through a couple of the overlapping webs that fit snugly over your stomach. “Finally giving into the narrative, hm?” Then the ones around your arms.

“S’not like I have much of a choice.” The red webs start to loosen until they unravel completely and pool on the floor. “So, you’re…letting me go?” You rub at your sore wrists, feeling the ache dissipate almost immediately. He shrugs like it’s no big deal for him. 

“It’s expected, isn't it?” He’s at the edge of the roof staring at the buildings around him, a soft breeze sweeps through his hair, and the lights of ‘the city that never sleeps’ soak over his suited figure from below.

“Just like that?” 

“...Just like that.” He says. But he says it more to himself than you. With that, he swiftly puts his mask back on, hiding the wonderfully serene expression he once held, but you never got to see in full. 

Spider-man is confusing. He treats you like you’re some sort of catch-and-release criminal. Acting like a push-over parent that reprimands their child even when they know they’ll do it again. You don’t get it. 

And the way he looks at you sometimes. Like he’s having fun. You see it when he’s chasing you, webbing you to the wall, or holding you under his claws. There’s a glowing heat that pulses in his eyes and you can almost see the barest gleam of his fangs. You can’t even wrap your head around how he can both infuriate and draw you in at the same time. And then he lets you go. 

And now he’s leaving you. 

So you take your chance. 

“Wait.” He stills but doesn’t turn back to look at you. He just stays there, merely stopping to listen to whatever you have to say. But you want him to look at you. You need to see those simmering red eyes that are hidden behind the mask. “I-” You stop yourself. You’re not actually sure what you were going to say. All you know is you just weren’t ready for him to leave yet. “I, um, never caught your name!” It blurts out of your lips before you realize what you’re saying. 

Then silence.

How awkward. 

You were sure he was going to leave you there. No sane superhero would reveal his secret identity, dumbass! Especially to a girl like you.

But then his hand comes up, slips off his mask again, hair slightly ruffled from the action, and he finally turns. Before you know it he’s approaching you, fast. And you can’t do anything but stand there, watching as his looming form starts to take up more and more of your vision until he’s standing right in front of you, head tilted downwards and red eyes low. 

Two warm palms cradle your jaw and you lean into the touch, eyes fluttering closed at the feeling. Just as your eyes start to open again, his head is dipping toward yours. Then his lips meet yours.

And it’s perfect. His soft plush lips move against yours, occasionally nipping and sucking on your bottom lip until it was satisfyingly plump. The warm, masculine smell surrounding you makes your knees weak as his hands drop from your face to your waist in an effort to pull you toward him.

Your body melts against him as he starts to softly lick into your mouth, thoroughly seeking out the taste of you. He pushes you gently against the unfinished concrete wall behind you, eliminating any space that was left between your thinly suited bodies. You swear you’re about to melt when you feel his broken groan against your lightly suited-chest.

And then you separate, heavy breaths and intense gazes floating between you. “Miguel.” He looks down at the way he’s holding you, the size of his palm against your smaller body. And then the ridiculous suit that was tailored specifically for the heist, but looks more like something you’d wear for a BDSM session. He clears his throat and looks back up, “Miguel O’Hara.”

“Miguel…” His hand on your waist clenches at the sound of your hoarse voice and you can tell he’s tempted to pull you back in. 

“You’re one of the few who know.”

Now, you’re curious. You hum, “Who else knows?” His eyes glance at your hair and his hand drops. Suddenly, you feel cold. He steps away from you, not unkindly, but it’s clear he’s trying to create space. 

He brushes it off, “No one important.” And then he’s walking away. Back to the same spot he was going to leave you from. Cool. 

“Well,” You take a few steps closer, eyes roaming over his muscled back,  “I promise not to tell anyone.”

“I know.” His mask is back on, and this time you know there’s no stopping him this time. “Catch you later, Little Red.” He jumps. 

Little Red? 

[ariesqueencobra]

what we used to be | Vlll

Pairing: Eli Moskowitz x Fem!Reader

Summary: The All Valley is here but you're realizing things that weren't there before.

Warnings: tournament fighting, swearing, mild violence, implied slut-shaming

Word Count: 2.8k

A/N: Things are finally getting good! Loved working on this chapter and I hope you love reading it! This concludes season 1, next chapter will be season 2! Also, tell me why it's so hard finding gifs for each episode? I wanted the gif where Hawk is at the All Valley, showing off his tattoo but I can't find it! What the heck?!

Thank you to those who already reblog and comment, I see you and I love you all for it!

I don't consent to this work being copied, translated or reposted.

It was the next day—the day of the All Valley. 

You were standing outside the arena, awaiting Sensei yet he was nowhere to be seen. In the meantime, Miguel was practicing punches but the look on his face uneased you.

“Calm down, man. Save some for the tournament,” Eli spoke up.

Miguel sent him a look. 

You frowned, knowing he was aggravated because of his breakup with Sam. You couldn’t blame him, still based on what you heard last night, she had good reason to end things when he hit her. 

Accident or not.

“Where’s Sensei? The tournament’s gonna start soon,” Eli asked Aisha after she told him to to bother with Miguel.

“He’ll be here,” she reassured.

Agreeing with her, Bert spoke up, claiming he saw him at the mini-mall last night drunk and yelling. 

“Why didn’t you say anything earlier?” You furrowed your brows.

“It didn’t seem like a big deal since I’m so used to seeing him drunk,” he defended. 

It was a fair point. If you had seen it, you probably would’ve thought the same thing. Sensei always had a Coors Banquet in his hand.

“Well, we’re here and he’s not so it’s officially a big deal,” Eli spat. 

“Something could’ve happened to him,” you said, opting for a gentler tone. “We’re just worried.”

“It doesn’t matter, we’re gonna have to do it without him,” Eli shrugged.

“Do what without me?” Sensei said.

You smiled when he approached.

“I may not always win but I never back out of a fight,” he said after Eli responded, glancing at his students before they focused on Miguel.

“All right, let’s sign up,” Miguel looked antsy.

“Not yet, there’s one more lesson I have to teach you,” Sensei said, signaling for you all to walk into the arena.

You intertwined your fingers with Eli’s, making your way inside. You gathered in a circle, your Sensei standing in the middle as he began to walk around.

“You’ve all learned to strike first, to be aggressive, not be losers,” he started. “I taught you to strike hard, to put every ounce of your power behind everything you do.”

You nodded. It was a surprise how much you’ve grown in the past few months because of Cobra Kai. You weren’t scared to walk through the halls and see Yasmine or Moon, you weren’t fearful of expressing yourself in your art class, and you sure as hell weren’t afraid of being yourself.

“But I haven’t taught you the third rule of Cobra Kai,” Sensei continued, pausing in the middle of the huddle. “No mercy.”  

Narrowing your gaze, you recalled the mantra on the wall in the dojo. You always wondered what it meant. Why it was important. 

“The older you get, the more you’re gonna learn that life isn’t fair. You wake up one morning feeling great, and then life throws a spinning heel kick to your balls, takes a big steaming shit in your mouth.” 

You grimaced.

“You get an “F” on a test, you get suspended. You fall in love with a girl and another dude comes and steals her away. Car gets set on fire. Just when you think things are good, everything falls apart,” he rambled.

Shocked that you weren’t confused by his words, you nodded along, understanding exactly what he meant.

“That’s how it goes. Life shows no mercy, so neither do we. We do whatever it takes to keep our heads above water. We do whatever it takes to keep moving forward. We do whatever it takes to win!” He exclaimed, voice booming with power.

A smile grew on your face as you felt the adrenaline bubble inside you.

“Remember who you are. You’re badass. You don’t give a shit! You kick ass! You’re Cobra Kai!” 

“Cobra Kai!” Miguel shouted, following the rest of the group.

“Let’s go down there and kick the shit out of everybody!” Sensei concluded.

With that, you were gonna reach for your gi when he stopped all of you.

“No, you’re not wearing those,” he smirked.

~

You overheard the announcer introduce your dojo but right before he said your name, you and your teammates all got into formation, chanting your name as you entered the gym, creating a rouse from the audience as you rounded the mat. 

It was empowering to say the least and you felt proud as you stood in your place, next to Eli, arms crossed behind your back.

“And finally, fighting unaffiliated from North Hills is Robby Keene!” The announcer shouted.

You realized this was the boy Sam showed up with last night right as you were leaving the party. Interest piqued in you, it was something out of a soap opera, and based on the look on Miguel’s face, you had a feeling things weren’t going to go down easy if they had to face each other.

“Alright folks, get ready. It’s karate time.”

You shook with excitement, some nerves bubbling in your stomach but you kept them at bay, trying to remember what your Sensei taught you.

Miguel was fighting first. The first round was quick as he used the crane kick to strike his opponent. Next was Aisha and she kicked her opponent to the ground, punching him in the face. 

You cheered her on, Sensei encouraging her. 

Then Eli was next, his opponent struck him but he blocked it, hurdling towards him and sending him to the mat as he knocked him out. He was announced the winner by the ref and you’ve never seen your boyfriend more pumped than now. 

“Yeah!” He cheered, pumping his fists before he threw his gi off, cheering towards the crowd that amped him up.

“Woah,” you were taken aback. “He’s so hot,” you spoke out loud from your daze, Miguel and Aisha sending you an amusing look.

Distracted from your boyfriend, you didn’t realize your turn was next. As you stared at your opponent, the excitement coursing through you turned into anxiety. Your chest was heaving as you took calming breaths, your boyfriend taking notice as he grabbed your arm gently. 

He sent you a concerned look. 

“I’m fine, I promise, just nervous,” you nodded, averting your gaze. 

While you had anxiety with tests or presentations, common things, this was new.

“Remember to stay on offense, Miss L/N, no mercy,” Sensei said, patting you on the shoulder as you stood before the mat.

You nodded, Eli squeezing your arm for good luck before you stepped on. You met your opponent in the middle, the guy slightly taller than you, but he could definitely be beaten—at least that’s what you told yourself.

“Face me, bow,” the referee ordered. “Face each other, bow. Ready?”

You raised your fists. 

“Fight!” 

You utilized the adrenaline in your system, blocking out all the fear and doubt, and just went for it. Dodging a few hits, you managed to hit one square in his chest. You scored the first point, but he got you on the next when you didn’t block quickly enough. You were losing hope when he got the next one too, but as you listened in on your dojo chanting your name, all the strength you needed found you. You blocked his hit, kicking out your leg and hitting his side. 

The score was 2-2.

One more point and you were in the quarter-finals. Bouncing on the balls of your feet, you shook out your jitters, letting the ref set up the fight before you were ordered to start. You charged toward your opponent, swinging your leg over his head and using his crouched position as an advantage, roundhousing him with your opposite leg. 

The ref wrapped his hand around your wrist, raising your arm as you were declared winner. 

You beamed up at the crowd, finding Demitiri and your parents cheering you on from the bleachers. You giggled to yourself before you made your way back to your team, receiving congratulations and pats on the back. 

“You did great!” Eli hugged you, pressing a kiss to your lips.

Your face heated up at the affection and you were still in shock as the final matches went on. As things funneled out, your next opponent was named and you gulped when you saw Keene on the board right under your name.

“Don’t worry, babe, kick his ass for what he did to Miguel,” Eli told you. “No mercy.”

You furrowed your brows. “He’s just a random guy, I’m not gonna hurt him for that,” you disagreed. “I’ll give him my all because it’s a karate match, not a duel.” 

“Yeah, well, he better not hurt you,” he grunted, face stone cold as he faced forward. 

“That’s inevitable, Eli,” you blew out a breath.

~

The quarter-finals were commencing. 

Miguel easily beat his opponent, but Aisha unfortunately lost her match with Xander Stone, she didn’t take it too well and while you wanted to go comfort her, your match was up. 

“You’ll do great, okay?” Eli reassured. “Beat his ass,” he encouraged.

You walked onto the mat, meeting Robby in the middle. You shook hands before you got into fighting positions.

Staying on offense, you struck first. When you landed a kick to his stomach, his arms barely attempting a block, you weren’t sure if he was taking it easy on you since you were a girl. Having seen how easily he took down his opponents, you believed that was the case.

So in the second round, you showed him no mercy, not holding back as you threw punches and kicks, landing your second point. 

He was taken aback by your fury and you sent him a look that you wouldn’t be holding back. You saw the furrow between his brows, his gaze traveling over your shoulder and something familiar to anger clicked. In the third round, he got his first point, kicking you in the kidneys. 

You tried to keep up, but he was a good fighter. He blocked your hits and landed a punch on your chest. You were tied again. 

He kept you on offense but you blocked his kick, your arm flying to the side as you aimed for his side but he got you, a kick right in the stomach. 

You went flying back, groaning in discomfort as he was crowned victor. You hissed in pain as you clutched your stomach. You heard Eli call your name but you ignored it when Robby stalked over to you.

“You okay?” He offered his hand.

You hesitated before you reached for it. Wrapping his fingers around your hand, he pulled you up, holding you straight as you regained balance. You let out a small laugh. “Not the worst I experienced, but you’re a tough fighter,” you grinned.

“You too,” he returned it, a genuine smile plastered on his face.

“Good luck in the semis,” you tipped, letting go of his hand and backing back towards your team.

“Thanks,” he followed you, eyes bright.

“Good job, Miss L/N,” Sensei congratulated you, raising his fist.

“Thank you.” 

You felt calm now, feeling accomplished that you made it through. It was over now. 

“You okay?” Eli glanced at your stomach where you were kicked. “I’m gonna make sure he regrets it,” he cupped your face, eyes blazing with fire.

You gulped from struggling to catch your breath. “I’m fine,” you reassured.

He nodded, smirking before he was called over by Sensei. The two of them plus Miguel joined the finalists on the mat. Cheering for them, part of you hoped that Eli would be the champion. 

The announcer got everyone sitting on the edge of their seats, anticipating the winner of the tournament before last year's champion was called to the center of the mat. 

Shortly after that debrief, Eli joined you once more, and Miguel’s match began. 

Without a doubt, Miguel was the better fighter, and the match became 2-1. Getting his game face on, he was able to score the final point, kicking Xander in the stomach.

You high-fived him as he made it back to the group just as Sensei got Eli ready for his match. Wishing your boyfriend good luck, he hopped on the mat, stalking over to Robby.

It surprised you when Robby struck first, starting with a kick. He sent Eli backward until your boyfriend had enough, wrapping his arm around him and knocking him to the mat before he punched him right in the chest.

It was intense and you could see the shock and anger spread on Robby’s face. 

Starting the next round, Mr. LaRusso shouted “Remember what you learned, Robby!”

This got him back in the game, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. 

You were intrigued, wondering why he was doing that. It wasn’t anything like Sensei taught you. Nothing about it screamed Cobra Kai. It was the opposite and watching it brought you a feeling of peace. 

It was odd.

When the round began, he still had his eyes closed when Eli attacked but he was able to block it. 

That impressed you more than it should.

Eli circled Robby before throwing a punch and a kick, both missed until Robby swept his leg up, striking your boyfriend in the face and sending him to the mat. 

You winced, worried for him but that changed to worrying for Robby by the look on his face. You knew he was in the game, adrenaline coursing through him, but you didn’t like the look so much. You saw as he got close to Robby, saying something to him. 

He wasn’t happy with what Robby said in return as the moment he had his back turned, Eli stalked over and kicked him in the shoulder, Robby’s knees giving out.

You screamed out Eli’s name in distress, not seeing Sensei run over to check on Robby. At the same time, Eli was disqualified, not making him happier.

Sensei scolded him and Miguel was quick to pull him down from the mat.

“What the hell were you thinking, man?” He pushed him.

“I wasn’t going to be a pussy,” he barked, smirking. 

You were standing next to Miguel, arms crossed over your chest as you stared in disbelief. It was one thing to strike hard during a match but when an opponent’s back was turned? What could validate something like that?

You were in your thoughts when he approached you, wrapping his arm around your shoulders but you shrugged it off, scoffing at him when he dared to send you a look. You rolled your eyes, moving to stand on the other side of Miguel.

Even he knew what Eli did was wrong and he only took your side when he made sure he wouldn’t come near you.

~

Before the finals began as the medics were checking on Robby, you grabbed a pretzel from the concessions stand, needing a breather after what you had just witnessed. You were sitting on the bench in the hallway when a presence sat next to you.

“You’re still mad?”

“I’d be shocked if I wasn’t,” you said, breaking a piece off your pretzel. “You know what you did.”

“I took down the enemy, now he won’t have a chance of beating Miguel in the finals,” he pointed back into the gym. “No mercy, remember?” He furrowed his brows.

“No mercy during a match, not when your opponent’s back is turned,” you straightened up, face centimeters from Eli’s as your voice raised. 

“Why are you defending that dweeb all of a sudden?” He spat. “One smile at you and you’re suddenly on his side?” 

Your eyes widened. 

He wouldn’t, would he? 

After all the years of seeking him for comfort after Yasmine and Moon would call you names, spreading rumors about your friendship with Eli and Demitri—would he really do that to you?

“Take that back right now,” you gritted. “Or shut up before you say something else because if you’re implying what I think you’re implying, you’re gonna regret it,” you stood up, towering over him. 

He held his composure and when he didn’t say anything, you walked away.

As you found your spot back in the gym, he appeared next to you a few moments later.

Your heart was heavy as you felt him next to you. But you didn’t want to think of that right now. You wanted to focus on Miguel and his match and you did. You watch as the points are tied nearly every round. 

When Robby struck Miguel with a two-legged kick, sending him to the mat, you didn’t think Robby would offer his hand like he did with you. But instead of taking it like you did, Miguel reached and tugged on his injured arm. 

Your heart raced. First Eli, now Miguel? You glanced at your Sensei, finding a look of concern on him. You wondered how much of his teachings he regretted, how much he would take back if he knew what would happen. 

In the final round, Miguel struck the third point. 

He was the winner. 

Cobra Kai won.

But at what price?

[ithaquasbbg]

Hello, may I have some headcanons on Hunter Luchino and Jack react to their y/n falling asleep during a match?

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Omg yes I love this trope!!! Sorry for the delay

Luchino and Jack with an exhausted s/o Headcanons

｡☆✼★━━━━━━━━━━━━★✼☆｡

Pairing: Luchino x reader, Jack x reader

Tw: none

｡☆✼★━━━━━━━━━━━━★✼☆｡

Luchino

(He looks like he’s seen some things in half of the official art Netease needs to do him better)

|🧪| He knew there was something wrong when he saw you early in the match. You looked like he did back when he would spend his entire days doing research!

|🧪| Luchino decides to go easy on you since you look exhausted and manages to chair one of your teammates only for you to come rescue.

|🧪| When you rescue your teammate, it’s not long before you’re passed out on the ground in front of the hunter and your very concerned teammate.

|🧪| Forget about chairing your teammates- Luchino needs to make sure you’re okay first! He sits down and lays your head down on his lap so you can rest until he can surrender.

|🧪| As soon as he gets the option he does and walks you back into your room in the manor as fast as possible, laying you down in your bed and taking a seat next to you

|🧪| He sits down reading a book of some sort (probably science…) until you wake up

|🧪| The moment you try to get up he gently pushes you back down with a stern look on his face.

|🧪| Forget your matches for the rest of the day, he’s going to make sure you can get out of them and get proper rest.

You open your eyes to find yourself in your bed.. weren’t you just rescuing your teammate? Confused, you start to sit up only to feel a gentle hand pushing you back down into your pillows. “(Name), you need to rest.” Luchino sets his book down and gives you a worried yet stern glance. “..But-” He quickly cuts you off, a small smile on his face. “I got you out of your matches so you can sleep, (Name), you need it.”

…

Jack

(He’d be a pretty good baby girl if he wasn’t a killer..)

|🔪| Jack doesn’t see you until you come to rescue your teammate from being chaired, and boy do you look exhausted!

|🔪| Out of pity (or maybe morbid curiosity) he lets you rescue your teammate despite the fact you can barely stand up. It’s no surprise to him when you pass out.

|🔪| Unlike Luchino, Jack has no desire to spare your teammates even if you’re out cold, and simply Carries you around for the rest of the match as he hunts.

|🔪| Once the other three survivors are out though he surrenders so he can walk you back to your room.

|🔪| Tucks you into bed and runs his hands across your face, it’s not everyday he gets to admire you up close like this.

|🔪| When you eventually wake up, you’re met with a kiss on the lips and the ever prominent smirk on Jacks face (assuming you can see it… let’s just say you can)

|🔪| He’s not going to let you do another match for the day, and makes sure you don’t get out of bed if you don’t need to.

“Jack..? What happened to the match?” You ask after coming to your senses, only to hear your boyfriend chuckle at your cluelessness “You passed out cold in the middle of it, (Name).” You feel your face getting hit with embarrassment before a glass of water is handed to you. “Take a drink and go back to bed, (Name), I can’t have you passing out in front of somebody else now can I?”

…

There we go, hopefully it’s ok :))

[smoshidiot]

vidcon 2024 !

hi guys this is my rambly post abt my experience at vidcon this year if anyone wants to read abt it! overall i wanna say that it was absolutely incredible and i def wanna go back next yearr

DAY 1: check in! literally nothing youtube related happened this day but it was fun as hell to check out the venue and meet up with my friends

DAY 2: smosh meet and greet day. holy shit. in the morning was anthony's ISADW matpat panel and besties when i tell you i was worried he wouldn't be there until I SAW HIM WITH MY TWO EYES. but incredibly he does exist? and he DID show up to vidcon? the panel was such a blast and it was interesting to hear about how the past few months have been for matpat. it was also just cool as hell knowing the rest of smosh was waiting right behind the curtain 🥹 and we could see nicole off to the side enjoying the panel. also shout out to @smoshkidtv who i got to meet before the panel and is legit the greatest i love them sm ok ty

then, almost right after, there's a post on socials that's like "get to the M&G early if you want free essentials merch!" so ofc me and a few friends BOOK it up to the M&G line and are prepared to sit and wait for like 4h lmao. we pass the time by watching smosh the movie and it goes by surprisingly quickly. after being moved into the official queue it's really not that long before smosh shows up and the nerves HIT. luckily we did show up early enough for the merch (smh for 4h we better have lmaoo) and it was so cool to talk to some of the crew (kiana/erica) passing it out. then the whole smosh cast comes out. weirdly the FIRST person i saw was marcus lmao but it was great to see him (and his eyebrows) in person.

i was near the very front of the line so i really didn't even have that much time to prep before i went up with my bestie of all time @smoshmonker! but waaaa ok so we go up and anthony calls out the shirt i'm wearing bc it's a recreation of my fave 2006 catch em all shirt

he asks if i bought it from smosh.com and i go "i made it actually!" and he's like :000 and thinks it's really cool until spencer yells "DUPE" and they all get fake mad at me LMAO. i remember ian going "we're gonna sue your ass" and i'll cherish that forever. anyways then i introduce myself and say that i do art n shit and nearly forget to say my name. but holy shit guys... the second i go "my name is ana", i see ian and anthony LIGHT up 🥺 they immediately recognized me and seemed excited to see me, it was genuinely so surreal. i didn't get to talk to anthony much directly bc he was standing in the back but it looked like he WANTED to say smth to me and even that was wild. and ian was so fuckin sweet and complimentary abt my art. then i ask if we can do a friendship always wins highfive pose. ofc i ask if ian and anthony can reach each other even tho they're not standing right next to each other. bc quite frankly, what's the point of doing this pose if the besties aren't highfiving?

then the second pose was more of a surprise for @yourinterestisnotcringe hehe. we brought out a potato plush for ian to hold and he was too fuckin cute about it. he was absolutely charmed by the idea of the lil potato plush and i love this pose that he went for lmao

then as we're about to leave, ian surprises my by going "thank you for all of the cool art that you make!" and i'm just .. on fucking cloud 9. i go absolutely breathless for a moment when ian hecox, standing right in front of me, thanks me for the stuff that i make. i stutter out smth like "sorry but can i hug you?" and him being the sweetest man ever goes "absolutely!" and goes in for the hug 😭💕 it was the perfect hug and i'll forever have the mental image of his lil gold chain sparkling in the light.

then we go off to the side and @squig-s is there talking to erica and kiana again and ?? they introduce me to alé? who was so freakin cool and lovely and reached out to shake my hand. then to be quite honest we all leave the meet and greet and have a good fuckin cry bc we JUST MET SMOSH

DAY 3: panel day! we get there early as FUCK bc we have a Plan(tm) and need to be in the front row to execute it lmao. like 10 months ago we had the plan for a bunch of us to dress as that damn neighbor at vidcon and damn it, we WENT for it.

also here's ian and anthony (and damien lol) shouting us out at the beginning of the panel

the panel itself was a ton of fun! it was a live reading of reddit stories and one of them was NUTS. it was such a blast to receive a live update tbh. then RIGHT after the reddit panel ended, we had to book it upstairs to get seats for the smosh mouth panel.

I don't remember a ton from this one other than them talking about boobs for most of it. also !! krungle is returning!! i'm so fuckin excited i'd die for krungle i can't wait to have her back. also anthony was sitting on the ground off to the side of the panel and i made awkward eye contact w him a few times lol. i am also honestly bummed that ian wasn't the guest for this one, but spencer and angela were great and they really just goofed off for an hour, it was a fun time.

DAY 4: the last day of vidcon </3 there wasn't a ton on the schedule today regarding smosh, but i DID have a slot for the mari meet and greet so i made sure to go check that out and ?? holy shit ALL of OGSoG was there 🥺 i had actually met them before at a con years ago and it was so wild to see them again, i really didn't think i'd be able to. this meet and greet was SO much more chill than smosh just based on nerves. these 4 were honestly so sweet and the vibes were so fuckin goofy it was lovely ♡ also who's gonna tell joven that this isn't a heart

then we had the mythical kitchen panel! it was a lot of fun even tho i only rly knew trevor and josh oop. trevor was such a sweetheart and stayed after at the end to take some pics and i got one with him on my fuckin 3DS lmao. i love the crunch of this pic, it's one of my faves from the weekend tbh. also i pray to GOD that he wears this hoodie again. he looks so good in pink

but that's pretty much it! idk if anyone is even reading this so hi if u did ♡ it was such a magical week and i'm so so so fuckin grateful for it all

[fayes-fics]

Portrait: IV

Masterpost

PREV | NEXT

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: A session at Benedict's studio is very eventful

Warnings (for this chapter): 18+ smut, minors DNI, loss of virginity, fingering, oral sex (m to f) cunnilingus, vaginal sex, discussion of pregnancy.

Word Count: 5.4k

Authors Note: We all knew it would come to this ;) thanks to @colettebronte and @makaylan for checking over this monster chapter <3

You arrive 11 am the following day at the address Benedict provided—a pleasant brick townhouse on the edge of Mayfair. You told your parents the subsequent two sessions would need to be at his studio and that his sister would act as chaperone. They both seemed happy with the arrangement, implicitly trusting one of the most eminent families in British society. It was, of course, a ruse of your own making; he made no such offer. In fact, you know for sure you will be alone together, and something about it has your stomach aflutter, a frisson over your skin.

His now-familiar valet answers the door shortly after you knock and guides you to a sun-filled studio at the rear of the property. The large picture windows are draped with sheer voile curtains that allow all the light in but obscure the interior from the surrounding properties. There will be no prying eyes here.

The room itself is a jumble of artefacts, art, canvases, paints, sketchbooks and his familiar easel. There is also an oversized dark green velvet chaise and, behind it, a lush forest backdrop; you assume this is the one Benedict wishes to paint you into, and you are delighted by it.

“Miss y/l/n,” his greeting from the doorway is radiance personified and slides down your spine like warm oil.

“Please, call me y/n,” you respond, turning to smile at him demurely.

“Only if you call me Benedict,” he specifies, walking in. He is casual today in a white shirt and black trousers held up with brocade braces; he is even barefoot.

“Will we be resuming the official portrait, Benedict?” you ask, emphasising his name as he draws closer. “Or the other one?” you add on a whisper.

“Which would you prefer, y/n?” he murmurs, drawing closer. His hand captures your wrist, encircling it between his thumb and forefinger. Paintbrush calloused fingertips resting delicately over your pulse point as if he is cataloguing your heartbeat.

“I have never felt more alive than last night,” you answer without artifice, ensuring your eyes are locked onto each other before you add, “being naked for you.”

He smiles dangerously. “And is that all you want? To be naked?” the tone teasing and low, and you know what he is asking.

Unabashed, you place a hand on his chest; it feels warm through his shirt, and his muscles flex slightly under your fingertips.

“I want you to ruin me.”

His sharp inhale and rapidly dilating pupils make your chest fire and your belly flip. 

“But you are promised to another,” he falters. Just like last night, his reminder is chivalrous. Even as you stand with barely a sliver of light between your bodies, his heat radiating to yours through the thin cotton layers that separate you.

“I do not care,” you state fiercely. “I do not wish to enter a loveless marriage without knowing what it is like to lay with someone I desire.”

“You desire me?” he teases as he presses against you.

“Since the moment I saw you,” you confess on an exhale. “And if I must face this awful future, I do not want to do so as a maiden. Without knowing something of true pleasure.”

“How can you be certain I can provide such things?” he is so close now, leaning over so his nose brushes yours. The moment is so charged you can taste the atmosphere between you. 

“No one makes me burn the way you do,” you murmur honestly, grasping his shirt, his lips ghosting over yours and his fingers a circle around your wrist, feeling your pulse pounding. “You would only need to touch me between my legs, and I would burst into flame.”

The needy noise he makes is everything; there is barely a second of hesitation before his lips crash onto yours. And you are instantly drowning. In the rush of chemicals in your bloodstream. In him, as he claims your mouth. His sizeable warm hand cradles your cheek and jaw, directing the movement. So you kiss back, rocking up onto the balls of your feet and pushing hard with your lips. Then it's a frenzy as he parts your lips with his. His tongue teasing yours insistently, obliterating that previous behind-the-greenhouse fumbling from your memory. This is what it is like to kiss. A sensual dance, a tease and a promise delivered—every fibre of your awakened by the experience that is at once exhilarating and so right.

“Oh god,” he gusts as you break apart.

“What?” your hands grabbing his jaw on reflex, not wanting his face to be far from yours.

“I…. I thought I could maybe resist this,” he laments, closing his eyes and leaning his forehead on yours, “but there is not a chance now. Whatever you want from me, I am yours.” his eyes fly open, and there is so much there in those enlarged pupils.

His offer is everything you need, and you mash your lips back to his, needing more hungry all-consuming kisses that he gives willingly.

“Give me everything, Benedict, please,” you say into his open wet mouth, the sound desperate even to your own ears.

“But what of your portrait?” he argues, nipping at your lips.

“You could still paint me after you ruin me?” you suggest with a twisted little smile, moving to suck on his upper lip, loving the tiniest rasp of stubble above it as you close your lips around it. 

“If I attempt to achieve both within an hour, you will not be satisfied with the outcome of either,” he jests with a rich chuckle. 

“Then I will have to stay longer and find a plausible reason when I get home. Perhaps, I have been sitting, waiting here with your sister, and yet you are nowhere to be seen, Mr Bridgerton?” you posit, wrapping your arms around his neck as he lifts you off the ground.

“I am such a scoundrel,” he plays along, hands banding tight around your waist.

“Indeed, and it means my portrait session will not begin until, hmmm, noon at the very earliest,” you declare with mock indignation, eyeing the clock over his shoulder as it shows barely 11:10 am. 

“I will be having strong words with myself about what an irresponsible cad I am,” he smirks, walking with you held tight in his arms, diving in for another kiss.

“Please do,” you concur over a giggle.

You share laughs and feather kisses until you feel the chaise bump the back of your calves.

“Are you certain?” he checks, his mien turning sweetly sincere.

“I have never been more certain,” you state categorically.

And then he is gently lowering you onto the plush chaise and crawling over you. You call his name softly as he nuzzles your neck and drops the lightest kiss there. His clothed body is so warm and all-consuming over yours. His hands taking his weight are either side of your upper arms, and he is looking down at you with a wondrous expression.

“I did as you suggested,” you offer quietly, “I wore nothing but this dress.”

His smile is wolfish as he lowers himself to kiss your collarbone. “Wonderful,” his voice like warm honey. You grab one of his hands, and he watches, fascinated, as you kiss his warm knuckles, then guide his hand to the bow below your right armpit.

He immediately understands what you are asking and holds your gaze intensely as he slowly unties it. The fabric around your body instantly slackens as he slides the two sashes apart.  Then slowly, with the look of someone unwrapping a wondrous gift, he peels the wraparound layer of your dress back over your front. It falls to your other side, and you feel warm air swirl around your nipples as they are exposed—the same with the patch of hair at the apex of your thighs. Your whole torso lying naked under him now.

He sucks in a breath.

“Is there something wrong?” you ask, concerned, wondering if perhaps you are not what he expected this close-up.

“Not in the slightest,” he reassures instantly, but there is a tremor in his hand as he brushes the back of it over your belly. Your stomach ripples under his attention, and goosebumps break out over all of your skin from just that gossamer touch.

“You are so sensitive to touch, my sweet,” he breathes hot over your face as you revel in this new moniker he has assigned you.

“I have never been touched like this before,” you remind, feeling lightheaded.

He hums in understanding and brushes more delicate caresses over your stomach; his warm smile is everything. He spends what feels like ages running the back of his hand over your midriff, calming strokes of his knuckles as you bite your lip and watch his face that concentrates on his movements. Then he flips his wrist, and fingertips trace over your skin. Your whole body pushes up into this new tactile sensation. He smiles knowingly and spiders his fingers up your sternum, intentionally avoiding your breasts, travelling slowly up to your neck with a swirling touch over your cheek to your lips. 

His thumb catches at the corner of your mouth, then sweeps across the bow of your lips, opening under his touch. When the pad brushes your front tooth, your tongue peaks out to lick the charcoal tang there, and he breathes ragged, hooks the top of his thumb into your mouth. You close your lips and suckle on instinct, staring into his dilated eyes. Something so slow and sensual about the moment as you suck more insistently until he withdraws and paints a trail of your saliva down your chin, over your chest until it lands on your nipple, and you gasp loudly as the wetness makes you pucker there. 

He smirks and pinches your nipple gently between his forefinger and wettened thumb. Pleasure shoots out around your being, concentrating between your legs, making your hips cant up into him. There is something warm and hard insisting inside his trousers; you know it must be his ‘member’ you have heard your ladies-maids talking about.

“Sh.. show me what is in your trousers,” you stutter inelegantly as you press up into him again, your mouth engaging words without your brain filtering them, too lost in the sea of novel experiences to censor yourself.

He chuckles at your turn of phrase. “Not yet,” he decides, lowering his lips to your neck, his fingers still on your breast, “but I will, I promise,” he buzzes into your ear.

His mouth then takes the same journey down your neck, little kisses setting your skin on fire until they reach your other nipple, which he sucks insistently, and you see stars, your hands grabbing his biceps to anchor yourself. Your cries of pleasure and surprise are loud even to your own ears, but you don't think to stop yourself, awash with sensation. And he doesn't shush you; in fact, he tilts his head to look up at your face as you stare down at him, and he winks and sucks harder on your pebbled nub—then swaps sides. You feel something akin to hot coals in your chest burning bright. And between your legs is a furnace, too—you long for his touch there.

“Please,” your voice gauzy, “more.”

And he obliges. He surges up to capture your lips again with greedy kisses, rearranging his weight onto one arm and the other sliding back down over your sternum, but this time going lower than your stomach. Pausing to swirl around your belly button, his fingers stray lower…. 

Lower still…. 

Lower…. until they run into the patch of hair at the meeting of your legs. 

He breaks the kiss to stare into your eyes as he slips his fingers between your legs, and your mind blanks. Nothing has prepared you for what it feels like to have another touch you there. Your eyes widen, and your mouth falls slack as his fingers quest into your folds. He hisses at the viscous wet heat he finds there.

“Benedict,” you whisper harshly onto his lips, and he growls lightly.

“My sweet, you are on fire for me,” his voice rough.

You moan and nod as he flexes his fingers on your clit before he kisses you again. Fiercely. Deeper and more desperate than before. You can feel a quake in him like he is holding back for you.

“Do not hold back,” you appeal into his mouth, wanting him to be unbridled—something about this man being wild with passion is an utterly enthralling prospect.

“I must. I need to be gentle, you are a maiden, and I cannot do what my body is aching to. Not just yet,” Benedict explains, his fingers rhythmically moving over your bud, desire coiling tightly inside you at his actions.

“What does it ache to do?” you whisper, having suspicions but wanting to hear the words drip from those kiss-swollen lips.

“To strip naked and plunge into you over and over until you scream my name,” he confesses.

“Do so,” you pant.

“I will, once you are ready.”

“And what of my ache?” you mutter; it feels like a hook is deep inside you, tugging, needing something.

“Where do you ache?” A look of concern flits across his features, and his fingers cease their wonderful movement.

“Inside,” you clarify and place your fingers over his to encourage him to restart his ministrations.

“Inside where?” his timbre falling impossibly low.

“Above your fingers,” you blush, “I am aching, and I need something.”

He groans, resting his nose on your cheek. “Your body needs mine; it is telling you it wants me as much as I want you,” he tutors breathily.

“Make it better, Benedict,” you beseech, touching his face.

He smiles, and the hand between your legs pushes your thighs further apart. Then he is slipping down your torso, sliding his mouth over your contours, pausing again at your breasts before going lower, as his hand did before. You watch, fascinated, as his thick head of hair is all you see, but you feel his lips over your skin, making you quiver in anticipation. You make a noise of surprise when he slinks between your legs and places your thighs over his shoulders.

“What are you…?” you begin, but he hushes you. 

You have never heard your ladies-maids talk of a man kissing between the legs, but that is what he does—he places a soft kiss on your sensitive nub, and you almost hit the ceiling with the new sensation. He hums in amusement, holds your thighs more firmly open, and repeats the action, but this time he lingers and unfurls his tongue all the way over where he had his fingers just before.

“Oh, my g-,” you gasp so loud that he chortles again, this time right into your overheated flesh. You make the most undignified noise, halfway between a moan and a squeak. You want to be mortified at the sound he has wrought from you and what he is doing, but he doesn't let you. He tilts his face to flash his eyes at you, encouraging you to be loud and reckless.

“Don't hold back,” he says silkily, echoing your words from moments ago. “I'm going to make that ache go away, my sweet,” he vows.

You can do nothing but let your eyes flutter shut and let him feast on you, which is precisely what he does. There is nothing gentle about the way he handles you. Taking your flesh into his mouth covetously, the heat and suction making you writhe, pushing your pelvis into his face, greedy for more. His left arm is banded tight around your thigh, holding you open to his attention, his right hand free to tease patterns over your belly, heightening your sensitivity with feathery brushes that make your skin hum.

You flush warm as you feel yourself climbing somewhere invisible. There is a certainty in your mind that nothing should feel quite this good - how on earth does any married lady get anything done if this is a regular occurrence? - but it is tinged with melancholy, knowing that this may be your only time to experience such pleasure. The bittersweet edge makes you more desperate for him, grabbing his hair and directing his attention.

He moans his approval, asks you to look at him as he spears the tip of his tongue into you, and you do. Stare down the length of your body to his eyes, dilated and so intense, you can’t look away. You watch as he opens his mouth wide and draws your swollen bud into his mouth, swirling his tongue gently around the most sensitive spots, varying pressure and speed so you never know what will come next. Unbreakable tension builds up, holding your belly muscles taunt as if in anticipation of something. Then with a raise of an eyebrow and a little soft plea to give it to him, he delicately runs the edge of his front teeth right over your bud, and you scream at the drag of the little jagged edge there. 

Your heartbeat throbs where he touches, and there is a rush of blood in your ears, feeling something almost snap inside. You grab his head forcefully and press him into your flesh as your world contracts, then explodes. Something gushes from inside your channel onto his chin, but you cannot stop it, barely school your own movements, the burning pulsing ache around your clit just relentless and all-consuming.

He pulls up and kisses your belly tenderly as you pant hard, eyes fixed on the ceiling, slowly returning to yourself, to the moment.

“Now you are ready to be painted,” he smirks as you lay sprawled on the chaise, watching in disbelief as he gets up and goes to his easel.

“Benedict?” 

“Your cheeks are so flushed, your lips wine-stained; I need to capture this beauteous glow you have,” he calls as you stare at him slack-jawed. “Just a few details, and then I shall be back with you,” he promises. 

Glancing at your face, he paints delicate tiny strokes. As he works, your eyes fall to his trousers. There is a prominent bulge, and you swallow hard at the sight. You can't wait to explore more. Of him. Of his body.

“Come back to me,” you call, after a few moments, holding your hands out in invitation.

“You know, I shall never complete this painting if you keep distracting me so,” he argues, but the smile as he prowls back towards you reveals how much he does not mind that fact.

“I have faith in your abilities,” you grin as he crawls over you, settling on top of you with more kisses. “Please take off your clothes.” Your request is timid but with an undercurrent of desire that you can’t and don't want to hide.

He chuckles against your cheek and pushes back to sitting, stripping off his shirt. You place your hands on the slight bump of his pectoral muscles. He wears a crooked smile as you slide them over his smooth, warm skin, enjoying the play of lithe, toned muscle under your fingertips. He has barely a dusting of hairs over his chest; it is mostly smooth, with freckles flecking his skin that you want to trace with your nose. Your fingers spider up to his neck to pull him back down over you, wanting to feel his bare chest on yours. His chest drags perfectly over your nipples, and you sigh at all the sensation, banding your arms around his torso, exploring the skin of his back as his lips worry your neck. Your hands sweep down below his waist to the wool of his trousers. Instinctually you slide your hands over the swell of his buttocks and grab both cheeks, pulling him down on top of you, that bulge rocking deliciously over the heat between your legs. He startles at your daring move. 

“More, Benedict,” you plead, always wanting more.

He chuckles, and his hand insinuates between your bodies, undoing the buttons around his waist. You kiss his hair as he looks down at the task in hand, almost too scared to look yourself, intrigued but intimidated. His wrist brushes your thighs as he pushes his trousers away, and you realise from the wave of heat that he wears no underwear. 

He tilts his head up and catches your gaze with a teasing smile. “Do you want to see? You said you wanted to know what is inside my trousers.”

He observes your face as your eyes drop between your bodies and see him, his member. You suck in a breath. It’s a swollen, veiny length of flesh with a red bulbous tip leaking slightly as it stands proud from a patch of hair not dissimilar to that found between your legs.

“Go ahead,” he advocates, “touch it.”

Hesitantly you reach to brush it, and it bobs as you do, your eyes cutting to his face to check all is well.

“It’s alright,” he assures.

It’s warm, contradictory, velvet-smooth skin over a rigid, hard mass. You wrap your hand around it, familiarising yourself with its dimensions and weight. He moans in his throat as you do. 

“Is this right?” 

“More than,” he breathes, sounding winded.

“This will never fit inside me, Benedict,” the concerned words tumbling from your lips as you grip more insistently, and he growls.

“Yes, it will; do not fear. I will need to go very slowly initially, but it will fit perfectly.”

He removes your hand from around him, kissing your knuckles and guiding your hand to his shoulder.

“Hang onto me, my sweet. I will show you,” he murmurs, pulling your thighs wider apart under him and slipping his cock over your clit in teasing strokes so you moan lightly and writhe. So very slick and ready.

Then you hold your breath as you feel blunt pressure around your opening. 

“Relax,” he advises, touching your diaphragm gently, “let out that breath you are holding.” 

You feel your lungs deflate just as another part of your body fills. You cry out in surprise as his tip slips inside your pussy. It is overwhelming, with so much heat and stretch. You feel him groan softly and shift his weight onto his hands on either side of your waist, rocking his hips just a touch to push deeper.

“Be brave for me, my sweet. You may feel a pinch of pain right now. But it will all be over very soon, and it will not hurt again.” he vows, leaning on his hands to kiss you tenderly.

You just nod your confirmation, unable to form words, just as a sharp ache blooms inside, making you stutter a breath.

“Well done,” he compliments. “I promise no more pain from now.” 

You nod and groan as he slides deeper; it feels like you are being invaded. He rearranges your hips, kissing the tip of your nose before pressing on more; every new inch he pushes into you feels like something entirely different. Until he finally bottoms out inside you, stilling his movement.

“There you go, my sweet,” he exhales and cups your jaw reverentially, “are you alright?”

You nod and confirm quietly that all is well.

The experience of him entering you has been novel but not exactly spellbinding; more strangely comforting—as if he belongs inside you somehow. As he remains still, allowing you both to adjust to the sensation, your fleeting thought is wondering what all the fuss is about beyond a feeling of utter fullness. But then he moves… and everything falls into place about why this act is so dangerously addictive. You let out a loud unadulterated moan of sheer pleasure as his slight rocking motion glances a spot inside that makes your eyes roll back, and your mouth falls open.

“Does that feel good?” he murmurs with more than a hint of pride in his tone.

Your approval is mumbled; fingers curl deeper into his flesh, blunt nails leaving crescent marks on his skin.  He rumbles a noise and starts a more pronounced rhythm, building slowly until he thrusts into you like you have imagined him moving with a lover. Deep, languid strokes, putting his whole body into the effort. You moan louder, your brain going offline, leaning into your physical instincts, just pursuing the pleasure of two becoming one, moving in unison.

“That’s it, oh you are doing so well,” his compliments spurring you on, building your confidence.

“It feels just wonderful, Benedict,” you burble, arms locked around his shoulders as your lips meet in open-mouth breathy kisses.

His movements start to speed up, and you cling harder, the pleasurable feeling growing into something hotter, more urgent. A burning hypnotic high that you cannot and do not want to stop. He rumbles encouragements into your ear, making you feel wanted, desired and the focus of all his energy, breathing each other's air—it feels intimate and shared.

“Touch yourself, just like I taught you,” his words velvety and stirring, you want to do everything he asks.

You slide a hand from around him, trailing down to circle your clit in the same way he did for you earlier; the jolt of sensation makes your eyes go wide and your mouth slack. 

“Yes, that's it,” he pants. “Do not stop; keep moving those fingers for me.”

With every thrust, his pelvis brushes the back of your hand, and part of you wants to caress him as well, the skin there warm and almost dewy from exertion now, but most of you just wants to keep going, selfishly chasing your own high. Your chest becomes tight, your muscles tensing; he somehow feels so huge inside you now, every movement an effort. You feel on the verge of a crescendo of some kind, your blood pumping hard. 

“Oh, you are right there,” he grunts with gritted teeth, “I can feel it; god, you are so tight, come on, my sweet, let go, do not fight that feeling,” he instructs, and you stare deep into his eyes and obey. 

Letting the incredible tension snap and erupt out of you, your core convulsing hard around his cock, as every muscle follows suit, almost fighting him. You can’t school the noises you make, crying out nonsense and his name, clinging so hard you know you are leaving marks in his flesh but unable to do anything but ride out the wave engulfing you. All of your senses narrowed, then burst into colours.

Dimly at the edge of your conscience, you feel him pushing harder, his hands vice-like on your waist, loud groans in your ear, singing your praises. Then your core is suddenly bereft, pulsing against nothing, as he rapidly withdraws, and warmth splashes over your belly.

He is panting hard right in your ear when you come back to the room, his body heat and weight almost too much to bear, slumped on top of you as he is.

“Benedict?” you call and tap on his shoulders. Slowly he peels up, your skin tacky in places, clinging as he pulls up onto an arm, the other curling around your neck.

“Was that alright, my sweet?” he checks sincerely as his breath evens.

“It was…. I cannot think of the words,” you whisper honestly, your voice a little hoarse, “in a good way,” you clarify quickly.

His answering smile is dazzling as a little droplet of moisture tracks down his cheek and splashes onto your neck.

“I’m so glad,” he grins, moving in to kiss you.

“What happened at the end, though? You pulled out of me so quickly?” you pout slightly.

“I did not want to impregnate you, my sweet,” he says slowly, looking bemused as your jaw drops.

“This is how a woman comes to be with child?” you gasp.

“Oh my,” he chuckles warmly, dropping a kiss on your forehead, “I assumed you knew.”

“I only had some information about laying with a man from my ladies-maids,” you confess, “I did not know this is how babies are made! No wonder there are so many babies being born!” you exclaim.

He laughs loudly and nuzzles your cheek. “It’s rather addictive, is it not?” his tone honeyed as he reaches for his shirt on the floor and tenderly wipes the residue from your belly. “That is my seed, and if I left it inside you, it would make a baby,” he explains patiently as you watch him clean your skin, fascinated.

“Thank you,” you rush out, and he tilts his head to look at you after throwing the shirt aside, his brow knitted with puzzlement. “For explaining that to me, for not leaving me with child, for what we just did. It was just….  wonderous,” you exhale, your voice going dreamy.

“It is I who should be thanking you,” he answers sincerely, “it is a privilege to be someone’s first, and I’m so pleased you enjoyed it. You may now enter marriage in full knowledge of what awaits,” he adds almost an afterthought, something in his cadence changing.

“I do not wish to dwell on such things,” you frown, shaking your head as you sit together. The idea you might have to do this with your intended makes you nauseated. Such an avenue of thought seems maudlin and too self-indulgent; you want to enjoy the rest of your time with Benedict today. And there is always tomorrow. “Let us focus on more immediate concerns,” you add, forcing your voice light.

“Such as?” he raises an eyebrow suggestively.

“Painting, Mr Bridgerton,” you laugh pointedly, “unless you have something else in mind?” you smirk back.

“I might,” he adds silkily, drawing you into his arms after pulling his trousers back on. “But I may need some time to recover,” he adds with a wink, and you chuckle.

“Perhaps we should concentrate on the official portrait for now?” you propose, re-tying your dress, “and if there is time later, well, there is a second picture that may need more work.” your tone playful as you raise an eyebrow. 

 “Indeed it may,” that crooked smile tugging at his lips that makes your belly flip.

The next hour is spent with stolen glances and shared giggles as he paints your portrait, standing behind his easel shirtless; so very appealing. You would not want to look anywhere else, thoughts of running your tongue over every contour making it hard to do anything but smile coquettishly, and he has to chastise you for not pulling such a tempting face. It doesn’t help that every ten minutes or so, he finds himself drawn to you, sidling up to the chaise and pulling you into sweet distracting kisses that throw you entirely off your pose.

As the clock strikes 1 pm, you have to tear yourself away from this remarkable man before the temptation is to hide with him all day. And night. Your heart wanting to throw caution to the wind, to just stay here and damn the consequences to you, your honour, your reputation, and your family.

“Until tomorrow, y/n,” he lilts as his lips linger over yours by the front door, seemingly just as reluctant as you to part.

“I cannot wait,” you breathe, unable to step outside his embrace.

You feel the curl of his smile next to your cheek. “You should know I have finished painting your dress into the portrait. So if you wish to turn up tomorrow in not a stitch of clothing, there will certainly be no complaints from me,” he teases with a rich tone, lips now hot on yours.

“Maybe I just will,” you volley back, feeling featherweight with happiness, “but I would insist you also be naked. Sir.” You are teasing now, knowing how affected he was when you used that honorific yesterday, goading him, giving him every reason to drag you back to his studio, to his bed.

His breath catches, and his gaze is fiery. “Leave now,” he growls, “before I whisk you away, lock you in a tower, and keep you as mine.”

Before you can respond, sway in his arms and dare him to do it, he wrenches the door open and bundles you outside as if the temptation is too great for him too.

The whiplash of the street noise, hubbub, and the bright midday sun is a shock, so you lean back on the door, still trying to absorb everything. “Do it. Please, god, Benedict. Do it. Take me away from everything. You are all I will ever want,” you plead with eyes closed before taking a deep breath and reluctantly moving away….

….Not realising he is also leaning against it on the other side, wistful—and heard exactly what you said.

Benedict taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @bridgertontess @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @angels17324 @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @lilithseve @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory

Portrait-only taglist: @mysticwitchcraftco

[rassberrylips]

Matchmaking - Hayden Characters!

i love autumn clothes but i hate the cold, i like thunderstorms with lightning and music such as the smiths, elvis, Imogen heap, lana etc i’m more of an introvert, when I’m comfortable around people i tend to ramble on and on, my favourite colours are a rich chocolate brown and light pink. I love art but i can’t draw and i love history and old hollywood

your match is ... james kelly !!

♡ i feel like he would be into old-timey stuff like you (elvis, old hollywood, etc..)

♡ when he first saw you at work, you were such a contrast to his sweaty garage. all light pinks, frilly skirts, done-up hair, and shiny glossed lips

♡ you came in to the garage to ask about your engine coolant, you needed to refill it but you couldn't find the right type which led james to inspect your car and also find something wrong with the engine

♡ after he did an over all inspection your conversation went a little like this ...

♡ "so how bad is it?" "its not that bad just a little problem with ur engine and i have some of your coolant in the back" "oh thank god" "but im kindof backed up 'cause one of the other guys quit so its gonna take a few days to get to it" "oh..." "actually i can get yours done by the end of the day, come by around eight" "great thank you !!"

♡ james may have put off a tire change or two for tomorrow 'cause it'll be worth it if he gets to see your face again and you in that outfit

♡ when 8 o'clock rolled around he was working on another car, radio blasting so he didn't hear you come in

♡ "i love this song!" james dropped his tools to the ground and shot up "you like elvis" "love him" "no offense but you look a little young to know elvis" this was james' way to figure out how old you were and if he had a chance "im only 24 but you don't seem that old either?" james let out a airy chuckle, "you got me im 33" okay not such a bad difference he thought

♡ after james handed you your keys he decided to take his chance ... "hey do you wanna grab dinner?" "sure!"

♡ you guys ate at a small italian place in town and had a great night. you talked about elvis and other music you liked, he explained how to change a tire and you gave a brief explanation of the fall of rome

♡ at the end of the night he drove you back to the auto shop to grab your car and you kissed him. after you left your perfume lingered, your lipgloss left a shine on his lips, and your presence filled a hole in his heart

♡ for your third date james was working on an old car from the 50s, he took you out for a joyride and blasted elvis (you were allowed one lana song)

♡ lets say the car required a little extra cleaning the next morning before it was returned ;)

♡ you guys were now officially dating !! yippee !

♡ nights are spent at his place cooking in the dimply lit kitchen and at yours watching old films in your cozy living room

♡ you guys are so cutie pie !!

♡ you visit him at work with take out for you to share, baked goods for the whole shop during lunch break, and another good just for him 🤫

♡ once you're dating he has to be touching you at all times

a glimpse into your relationship ...

a/n: hope you liked it girl 💋🫶 ... also with this post im manifesting my boyfriend and @hhtpsjennaaa's

[dirtywresling102]

This is me projecting for sure, but can I request a female reader x Hook? She meets him at a convention meet and greet and he ends up being really into her. Feel like this is kinda cliche but I’m supposed to meet him in two weeks so I am projecting/lowkey manifesting👀 😂😭

Pairing: Hook x Female!Reader

Warnings: Fluff, Meet and Greets

Imagine Requests: Open!

Note: YOU'RE MEETING HOOK!? Ugh lucky! I just met Brian Cage a 2 weeks ago! Ugh I hope to meet Hook one day! I hope you have fun!

Follow My Main Blog!: @dirtywrestling

Your stomach clenched tighter as you saw Hook's fluffy brown hair in view. You bit your lip to see him looking up at the person in front of him and smile. His smile melted your heart in way you never thought someone could. You grew even more nervous as you realized you were the next person in line to speak with him.

It seemed like your legs were becoming wobbly with each step you took. Watching the person in front of you leave in excitement you looked at Hook to see he was already looking at you with a large smile. "Hi!" He greeted.

"H- Hello." You gushed, walking up to the table. You handed him a piece of paper with a drawing on it of him.

"Holy shit, is this me!" His eyes sparkled as he admire the art work.

"Yeah, I uh have been working on it for awhile." You blushed as he grew excited over your work.

"This is amazing." Hook's eyes never left the paper as he grabbed a marker. "Who can I make this out to?" He popped off the lid.

"Y/N." You said sheepishly, biting your lip as you watched him autograph the drawing. "I'm a big fan of you." You finally admitted.

"And I'm a big fan of you as well." Hook gave your art piece one last look before handing it to you. "Do you post on Instagram?"

"Of my work? Daily." You smiled, carefully grabbing the sheet, making sure not to ruin it.

"Well, how about I give you a follow so I can see all your amazing art work?"

You stared at him in disbelief. "R- Really?" You fumbled to grab your phone, looking up your Instagram username. "Here, it's this." You showed him your profile picture as he pulled out his phone with a smile and put in your account.

"And, followed."

You looked at your screen to see Hook was officially following you.

"Come on, can't leave without a picture." Hook stood up from his chair as you made your way around the table, he wrapped his arm around your waist and held you tight, smiling towards the camera. Once the flash went off me whispered in your ear. "I'll text you later."

[xoxiu]

first love of late spring - ot7 x reader

chapter four table of contents masterlist join the taglist discord

summary: falling, falling, falling- that's what you shouldn't be doing as a young intern at hybe. falling in love with your supervisor is frowned upon, especially all seven of them. you'll never learn, will you? guess you’ll just have to be their dark secret.

tags/warnings: intern!reader, poly relationships, stockholm syndrome, age regression, spanking, drug use, sugar daddy au, dubcon, body dysmorphia

taglist: @frieschan

February 1st was your first day starting as a social media manager for BTS. Scratch that- not a manager, but the social media manager. Your new position came with many amazing benefits, and you liked working from home when you weren't with the band. It felt like you were amongst the popular kids at school for once. You followed them around all day, taking pictures and videos for their socials. It almost felt like a dream- your job was to be their friend and photographer. They treated you more as a friend than a staff member. 

Then there was dealing with the fans. Being sneaky and having a secret fan account on multiple platforms allowed you to see what the fans were liking and into, giving you more ideas for the official pages. That meant you were in on all the inside jokes, leaked information, as well as what was trending amongst the fandom. 

Back in your youth, you ran a fan Twitter account for One Direction. You understood the fans better than anyone else because you were in their positions at one time. Times have changed over the past decade (you didn't even want to think about how long it's been), but getting back into the groove of things was easy enough. 

"y/n, you don't have to be so formal with us," Jimin would tease you all the time. While your job was fun, you were still a staff member. The boys would call you out constantly on you referring to them as 'sir', complaining about feeling old, and whatnot. They saw you as an equal and awaited the day you felt like one too. 

Today was the filming for a Run BTS episode. You didn't entirely understand the concept of the game- all you knew was that they were painting something and whenever they asked you to take a photo, you would. It was adorable- they would hold up their paintings like proud little kids. The photos would be posted to their individual Instagram accounts, so you would send each member a copy on KakaoTalk. 

"I think y/n should be the judge!" Taehyung said, standing up from his chair and pointing in your direction. You looked up from your phone in confusion, only having heard your name and 'judge'. The boys noticed your deer-in-headlights look and let out an endearing laugh. 

"Just tell us who you think has the better painting. We'll film a male staff member saying your answer so you don't have to." Yoongi said. You appreciated not having to have your voice in the recording. 

You gave each painting a very good look. Namjoon painted what appeared to be the Han River. Seokjin painted a rainbow that had been destroyed by brown paint, most likely by Jungkook that sat next to him. Jungkook didn't have much on his paper, obviously focusing more on disrupting the other members. Taehyung had an all-black abstract drawing that almost looked like it belonged in a modern art museum. Jimin's painting was of a variety of flowers in a bouquet, also destroyed by Jungkook by a brown marking of 'JK' right in the middle. Yoongi and Jimin seemed to have a combined painting that illustrated the seven members of BTS as crudely drawn stick figures when placed side by side. You chuckled at Yoongi's portion of the picture where he drew Seokjin with comically large shoulders. 

"Yoongi wins solely for how he drew Jin," you said, smiling at the excessive cheering from the normally calm member.

It really was days like this when you enjoyed your job. 

You sat in one of the production lounges on your laptop, editing some promotional photos for Instagram. Stretched out across the length of what had to be the building’s comfiest couch, you let out a long yawn before checking the time. 

A text alert is shown as you checked your phone. An unknown number had called you before sending a simple text. 

‘Hey y/n it’s Jin, are you busy?’

You smiled as you responded ‘No’ with a smiley face. You had no idea where or how Seokjin got your personal number, but you didn’t let that thought bother you much. Once you felt your phone buzz with an incoming phone call did you sit up straight on the couch. 

“Hello? Seokjin?” You asked. The line was quiet for a moment before you heard Jin’s voice through the phone. 

“Hey, could you come to our dorm? It’s not urgent or anything.” 

“Sure! Just text me the address and I’ll be right over,” You replied, standing up and starting to exit the building. There were the sounds of shuffling and muffled voices through the phone, making you wonder just what was going on over there. 

“Actually,” Jin suddenly said, “It’s nothing. You don’t have to.” You stopped in your tracks, now very curious and concerned about what was happening. 

“No, no. Come over. I lied,” Seokjin said quickly after, correcting himself. “We want you to come over.”

————

Jimin roughly nudged Jin with his elbow once the phone was hung up. There was no way he didn’t sound suspicious during the call- stumbling on his words and even backtracking on what he said. They were lucky you just followed along. 

“Fuck,” Yoongi said, holding his head in his hands, “Now we need to think of a real reason why we needed her here. Jungkook missing her isn’t a good enough answer.”

“I think it’s fine…” Jungkook mumbled to himself. 

Namjoon looked across the room and into the kitchen, coming up with an idea upon seeing the state of it. “We could tell her we needed help putting the cabinet knobs back on.”

“We need our social media manager to help us with home renovations?” Yoongi questioned Namjoon’s idea.

“We wanted to film a TikTok?” Taehyung suggested. 

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s go with that one!” Seokjin said. 

————

By the time the bus had arrived, the sun was close to setting. You kind of started to regret agreeing to come- it was late and you were quite tired. Finally, you had regulated your sleep schedule to be like a normal adult’s, and the members of BTS had to screw with it. What else did you expect from them?

Within seconds you were buzzed in and headed to their shared penthouse. All seven of them had their own apartments by now, but they all chose to live together still for the majority of the time. You often questioned how they were able to do it for so long- you had two roommates back in college that made you question your sanity at any given moment. 

You barely even knocked on the door before Jimin opened it with a smile. He ushered you inside, and you stood in the entryway in awe. The dorm was beautiful and big. Much, much bigger than your tiny apartment that probably couldn’t even fit seven people in it. The ceiling was high up and the doorways were arched, making everything feel so much bigger and fancier. 

“y/n! Thank God you’re here!” Taehyung said, running up to you and hugging you. You awkwardly stood there, allowing him to hug you. Never once had you had any physical affection or contact with them, and it felt like a weird time to break the boundary. You laughed slightly as he let go of you. 

After taking off your shoes, you were led into the living room where the other members sat. It was odd- everyone acted as if you weren’t needed and that there was nothing you needed to do. The sitting members all smiled and waved at you, remaining in their spots on the couch. 

“So,” you clasped your hands together behind your back, swaying slightly on your feet. “What do you guys need?”

“We just-” Jungkook started to talk, only to be interrupted by Namjoon. 

“We wanted help filming a TikTok!”

You stared at him confused. Filming a TikTok was something they were more than capable of doing by themselves. You had directed some and given them ideas, but for the most part, they would just film it themselves. It felt more natural and created more of a connection with the fan base. 

“You could’ve just done it yourself, you know,” You let out a chuckle. 

“We couldn’t think of any ideas for one,” Hoseok said. He stood up from his spot on the couch and motioned for you to take his seat. You pretended to ignore him at first, but he only kept insisting you take a seat. 

“I mean, there’s a trend of AI face filters right now. You each could do that.”

“Yeah! Let’s just play around with filters,” Taehyung said, pulling out his phone. “Wait, y/n has an iPhone. Can we use your phone instead?”

Without hesitation, you handed your phone over to Taehyung. The seven of them took turns playing around with silly filters, doing their best to keep you out of the shot. You happened to glance over at one that turned Jungkook’s face into a creepy unicorn. 

Hours passed by eventually, and you took your leave. You stood up from the couch, trying to locate your phone. A chorus of disappointed ‘aww’s filled the room at your sudden insistence on leaving. 

“It’s already 22:00 and the buses have stopped running. It’ll be a long walk.” You claimed. Jungkook stood up and walked over to the windows, observing the dark skies and falling rain. 

“It’s pouring rain out there. We can’t let you leave in this- you’ll catch a cold.” He said. The others agreed with him excitedly. 

“Or I could just drive-”

“No! It’s too dangerous. We’ll fix the couch up for you tonight.” Taehyung interrupted Seokjin and his logical solution. Everyone soon began to hunt for spare pillows and blankets for you. 

“It’s fine, guys. I really don’t need to stay here.” You slowly began to approach the front door, hoping no one would notice you leave. Hoseok snuck up behind you, blocking your path to the exit. 

“Nope, no way. We’re older and know what’s best,” he said, guiding you back to the couch. A crack of lightning struck and illuminated the dorm, making you jump at the sudden strike. 

“Awh, you’re afraid of storms,” Jimin said, placing the last of the blankets on the couch. “Now we’re definitely not going to let you outside in this weather.”

The couch had a plethora of blankets and pillows piled high on it. It seemed like each member brought at least two of each for you to sleep on. When you pointed out the hilarious amount of blankets and pillows, you were told that it got cold at night. You looked over towards the thermostat on the wall that read 23°C. The members pretended to ignore your questioning stare. 

You gave in eventually and got settled in on the couch. They made sure you were tucked underneath each of the six blankets and placed some pillows on the floor next to you. 

“Just in case you roll off in the middle of the night,” Namjoon said, seeming like he was speaking from experience. 

Within minutes of the lights turning off and the boys going to bed, you were out like a light. 

Yoongi, Jungkook, and Hoseok snuck out of their rooms at one point, standing in the hallway and watching as the city lights illuminated your sleeping body. They watched as each breath caused the blankets to move up and down, and as you softly snored. 

“You’re crazy for having this idea, Hobi,” Yoongi said with his arms crossed. 

“I mean, it sounds like a pretty good plan,” Hoseok tried to defend himself. “Jungkookie really wants her, and I figured it would be fun for us, too.”

“We do really want her, hyung.” Jungkook said to Yoongi. 

“We? What part of this involves ‘we’?” Yoongi asked, before letting out a sigh. 

“Yeah, I guess it is we.”