#ap purse

[kisseobie]

jasmine

pairing: non idol jongseob x fem!reader

genre: fluff

a saccharine summer evening spent at your favorite nail parlor is so much sweeter when you’re accompanied by a boy made out of star-shaped tangerines 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

tags: established relationship, reader is slightly anxious, the sweetest boyfie seob, reader is sooo girly, slightly suggestive if you squint, jongseob thinks ur the prettiest girl in the world, usage of petnames (baby, princess, etc..), yall are so in love it’s sick, no smut in this but mdni pls

a/n: haiii everyone ^_^ so i haven’t written self inserts in years but i desperately crave more jongseob fics (as u can see from my last post lol) sooooo here i am!! this is very self indulgent but if i like how this goes i mighttttt start taking piwon requests :p please be kind as i haven’t written in a veryyyy long time… anyways enjoy 𓇼⋆｡˚

listening to: jasmine - dpr live ♪

“they have to soak off my previous set before they get started so you really don’t have to stay with me here if you don’t want to seob.. it’s gonna be 2 hours at least.”

you shyly inform him as you begin to retrieve your phone from your back pocket to search for your appointment confirmation email as the pair of you come to a gentle halt in front of the entrance of your favorite nail salon. you pause before entering, turning to face towards him as the salty breeze of the nearby boardwalk cards through jongseob’s copper colored hair, a sight that makes you swoon. “you sure you won’t be bored?” you ask shyly, and jongseob gives you a toothy grin in return, eyes crinkling softly as he tilts his head towards the sliding doors of the salon, a sweet and silent reply to your hesitance that speaks, “i’m never bored when i’m with you”. he slowly lifts his hand to tuck a stray piece of hair behind your ear and kisses your cheek, all whilst interlacing his fingers with your slightly smaller ones as you both make your way into the salon.

you somehow find yourself falling deeper and deeper in love with him.

it’s been just short of a year since kim jongseob first approached you, fidgeting with the fabric of his favorite hoodie and swaying back and forth on his heels to ease his nerves as he asked you for your number. the sweet boy expected for you to kindly let him down (partly because you had never spoken to him a day in your life, and partly because of the gorillaz logo on his apparel), but to his astonishment, you simply punched your number into his keypad, and one text reading: “hi :)” led to a plethora of late night conversations, hushed giggles shared in his bedroom, and coffee flavored kisses in the mornings (much to his roomates’ dismay).

he’s wearing that same hoodie this evening too.

the domesticity of your blooming relationship is new, but never unwelcome, so it didn’t surprise you when he asked to accompany you when you were cuddled up with him a few nights ago, haphazardly mentioning that you were planning to get a new set of acrylics soon. seob had been paying for your previous sets despite your constant disapproval, but this was his first time going with you to a booking, and it felt oddly intimate, like you were starting to enter a more serious stage of your relationship.

jongseob’s reassurance allows you to let go of your irrational fear of him dying of boredom during your appointment, and with that, you two carry onto your seven o’clock session.

“girl, that’s your man? that’s the one you were telling me about?”

are the first words that leave your nail tech’s lips as as you settle down into her usual station, setting your purse to the side, straightening your jean skirt, and adjusting your bra strap as you question the surprise written all over her face. you had spent countless of sessions with her discussing your relationship with jongseob, her even being there for the details of your distant crush on him prior to you being asked out. always the persistent type, she had been practically begging for you to bring him around these last few appointments, mentioning something about “taking a good look” at the boy who had swiftly stolen your heart.

your tech must have noticed the slight blush of embarrassment appearing on your cheeks, because she jumped to clarifying her previous statement with, “i don’t mean that in a bad way babe! he’s definitely very attractive, i was just surprised you were so shy in approaching him is all.” at these words you tilted your head a bit, only more confused about the implications of what she was attempting to tell you.

“y/n, he was staring at you the entire time you were checking in like he’d hang the stars and moon for you if you’d ask. he had that dopey lovesick look and everything. he’s obviously smitten, you have literally nothing to worry about.” she relays to you with amusement as she dips your fingertips in acetone.

you let out a deep breath you didn’t know you were holding in and quietly giggle. “really? okay i’m really glad you said that, he’s been so sweet to pay for all of my sets without me even asking him to and i was just so worried that he’d hate me forever if he got bored sitting here. i think i’m just not used to doing simple chores with him rather than elaborately planned dates” you whisper to her. you then take a peek at your boyfriend’s comfortable form lounging on one of the hot pink seats of the salon, his nintendo switch clad in one hand, and his cheek pressing against the other. you notice he only has his left airpod in, just in case you needed to call for him. your heart melts at the sight, and you finally turn your full attention back to your tech, now removing your old set of nails.

as you wait patiently in your chair you begin to lightly sway your head to the song playing on a distant salon speaker, one that your boyfriend coincidentally has on repeat each time your with him nowadays. “it’s called jasmine, it reminds me of you.” is what you remember him telling you one morning, when you woke up for the first time in his bed, wired headphones connecting you both as the dpr live track overtook the cozy atmosphere.

every now and then you and seob glance at each other from across the salon, to which you both begin breaking out into big smiles and rosy cheeks. your nail technician carries on with replicating the reference nails you showed her to a T, but not without silently noting the heart eyes you and jongseob shoot at each other everytime your eyes happen to lock. this time, he mischievously motions for you to glance at your phone, a quiet “ding!” from your cell grasping both you and your tech’s attention.

[seobie ᥫ᭡]: you look so pretty right now baby, i’m so excited to feel your nails in my hair later lol

[seobie ᥫ᭡]: and maybe scratching my back too ;)

[seobie ᥫ᭡]: omg that was so embarrassing im so sorry please look away plead im so bad at this fuck

you look away from your screen embarrassingly fast, flustered and avoiding any eye contact with both your loser boyfriend (who is wallowing in his own embarrassment) and the woman now raising her eyebrows in front of you as she waits for your nails to cure under the uv lamp.

she is so making fun of you for that next time.

“andddd we’re done! just go wash your hands and your boyfriend can pay at the desk. he looks like he’s gonna flip if he isn’t holding you in some way in the next two minutes and i really don’t need to witness that.” she exclaims, not without exaggeratedly rolling her eyes and shaking her head.

you begin to fully assess your fresh new set of acrylics, now topped off with a sparkly clear coat. your nail tech even added some oil to your cuticles to try and make up for months of self-inflicted damage. after a minute of observing, you hum in approval, deducing happily that your boyfriend is going to love the colors you chose: tangerine with hints of cherry red to subtly match with his hair.

“perfect, just like always. thank you so much!” you say while handing her a generous tip, to which she holds out her hand in refusal and shakes her head. “no tip today, just go spend some time with him, i’m so happy for you y/n, seriously.” she replies kindly. you give her a hug to say thanks and tuck the cash back into your purse, turning and making your way towards the chair your boyfriend is currently occupying as he watches you with a warm smile, hands crossed in front of his chest as he holds back a laugh.

“what’s so funny?” you question as you approach him slowly.

“i called her beforehand and sent her a tip for you, i knew you were gonna try to pay somehow.” he giggles as he stands up. you scoff, but deep down you know you should have known he would outsmart you like this.

“i can’t believe you! i’ve told you a hundred times before that i don’t want you to spend your money on me!” you try to reason with him, to which he cuts your frustration off with a simple “who’s going to take care of you then, princess? now show me your nails!” he says as he hovers his hands in front of him, a signal for you to follow suit so he can observe the result of the previous two hours of work.

you decide to drop the subject for now and let excitement take over once again at his request, bouncing up and down whilst placing your hands atop of his palms, not allowing him to speak before you explain that “they match your hair, see? i asked her to do orange and red ombre!! and i know you love stars so i also asked her to add little golden star studs on my pinky nails! what do you think babe?” you half squeal out at him, clearly awaiting his approval.

“you did this for me?” he asks.

you deflate a little, dreading the small chance that your next words will result in an underwhleming reaction from him. “well yeah, sorry if it’s weird, i just wanted to do something nice since you offered to accompany me even though you would just be sitting in your chair for two hou—” he cuts off your anxious rambling with a strong kiss to your lips, followed by both of his palms covering the sides of your face to pull you impossibly closer. you gasp from the sudden movement, and just as you close your eyes to reciprocate, your boyfriend pulls back to show you the prettiest smile you have ever seen on his face.

“i guess you like them.” you sheepishly respond, holding back a smile equally as large.

he just replies by peppering your tanned skin with tangerine flavored kisses, each peck accompanied with the words “i love you, i love you so much”.

you and jongseob finally step out of the salon hand in hand, the cool air blowing onto your faces as you squeeze your interlocked fingers. jongseob presses on the pedestrian call button with one hand as you both anticipate the streetlamp to shift to green. you fill the comfortable silence with giggles and the occasional kiss to the cheek the entire commute to the subway, uncaring of prolonged glances from onlookers. words are only spoken an hour later when you’ve finally enter the warmth of his (and practically your) bedroom. jongseob turns towards you this time, clearly not as timid as he was hours before, smirking while pronouncing,

“in case you were still wondering, that offer from my text earlier still stands…”

it’s your turn to roll your eyes and shut him up, tugging him roughly towards you with the front of his stupid hoodie as your mouths connect with an urgency you’ve never felt before, the pair of you hurriedly falling on top of his bed as your nails make contact with his scalp.

𓇼⋆｡˚

in the quiet of the night, considered by some as early hours of the morning, jongseob holds your bare frame tightly against his own as he strokes his hand along your freckled back. your warm breaths tuck into the small crevices of his chest as your tangerine tinted nails draw hearts lightly into his skin, and with that, the two of you gradually lull into a peaceful slumber, but not before you look up at him and whisper,

“i did it for you.”

a/n: mwahahahahahahahaha it’s finally out.. thank u for being patient!! it was honestly so motivating to see that despite the fact that so many people had never read my writing before, their love for jongseob made them crave this fic soooo much LMFAOO we all are so down bad for this man it’s a bit insane. anyways like i said i haven’t written for years so this was short and a little choppy but i tried my best and hopefully i’ll get better with time ^_^ anyways i’ll be finishing up my next fic soon and then i’ll start working on requests!! thank u for reading, it means a lot to me <3

please do not repost my writing!

tags:

@chuuswifereal @angelcbf @lakoya @zendieya-8 @bambispostsblog @saturnh0ney @theyluvsosa @youresolivlie @woozixo @www90kitsch @sirenla @ihatewreckingballmains @curiousgworge @haileyyey @khfviq @highkeyadumbasslmao @lovebunnys-world @astro-doll-the-star @kyokopi @meowmeowjang @imma-penguin1 @sophia-is-tiny

ᥫ᭡

[a-boca-do-inferno]

a goddess in my right eye (koba x human!reader) [request]

summary: Kobaʼs plan was just to grab some human guns, until he saw you. Whatever could happen?

warnings: angst-ish, fluff, swearing

words: 1.1k

notes: based on animal by aurora. enjoy <3

You snapped your head at the quiet thud of something falling on the floor, stopping your repairs on the light above you. You came down from the stool you had been standing on and cleaned your hands with a cloth, throwing it aside as you frowned. Who could be around here at dinner time? Mostly everyone was having supper now… Except for the drunk assholes watching over the armoury, of course. Rolling your eyes impatiently, you strolled in the direction of the sound and froze in your tracks as soon as you spotted one of those apes with his back turned to you. You let out a gasp and tried to calm down, gripping the wall you hid behind tightly. Taking another experimental peak at the scene, that’s when you saw it.

Pause. Everything happened so quickly, you didn’t even finish blinking; dead bodies surrounded the angry ape whilst he made his way toward you, stomping firmly on the cement with the biggest scowl you’d ever seen, a machine gun dangling loosely from his arm. Your whole body shook with fear and adrenaline, your hands drenched in sweat and closed in fists. Your mind went completely blank for a second. Run. Run. Run. Yet you simply could not move, your soles glued to the ground beneath your worn out boots. His piercing gaze bore into your soul like burning knives cutting through it. It was helpless. That was your end.

Right?

“Human.” He scoffs, his scarred face contorted in disgust and... curiosity, to say the least. Koba sized you up and down, invading your personal space, his hot breath hitting you so aggressively you had to flinch. Seeming mildly amused by your terrified state, he orders gruffly, “name.” 

“(y/n). I-I won’t say anything, I promise…” You stammer, shrinking even further as the ape towers over you, panting with his mouth open. His sharp exhales blew your hair slightly; such a foreign sensation. Surely that wasn’t the same guy who’d come make peace with your group earlier, riding horses and such? This one appeared not to be awfully fond of the human race in comparison. When you noticed the creature only kept on coming closer, his chest almost pressing against yours, you gulped. “Who… are you?” Your voice is but a whisper.

There was something uncanny about the way Koba examined you. He’d never seen a human that was not a scientist and you most certainly were not one, wearing those old clothes and smelling of grease. You seemed scared, but not because of him—not completely. You seemed scared of everything. The ape enjoyed how you shrank away from his every move like a small animal cornered by its prey; the rules were reversed now, it seemed. His nose caught a whiff of your natural smell again, one he couldn’t quite place under the layer of lubricant. He tilted his head, his sharp stare never leaving your eyes.

“Koba.” He huffs, pointing to himself proudly. His good eye inspected your every feature with a more obviously curious gleam now. His large hand reached out for your cheek and you pursed your lips as he traced your soft skin with his fingertips. His breathing remained heavy and quick, taking in your scent. Letting out a deep grunt, albeit not as hostile as before, the ape concedes, “Koba… like (y/n).”

You can’t help but raise your brows, surprised and confused at the statement. “What…”

He gives your face another rough but faint brush of his fingers before holding your chin in place. “Bad human.” Koba continues, pointing at the dead bodies with the gun he’s still holding, then turns to you and places his palm on your collarbone tentatively. He nods briefly. “Good… human.”

A shiver ran up your spine as he pulled you closer, wrapping an arm securely around your hips. The situation was so widely unexpected you couldn’t hold back a nervous laugh, gripping his furry shoulders for support as he held you. Koba was pleased at the sound you made and accompanied you with a chuckle of his own, deeper and more gravelly than yours. Your breathing was still slightly ragged, trying to make sense of what he meant with his words and his actions. A monkey in love with you? Like… King Kong or something?

“Why did you do this?” You ask, genuinely eager to know, while also attempting to escape your rushed thoughts. It wasn’t like those morons would be greatly missed by you. Good riddance. “Why… did you kill them?”

Koba blinks slowly, considering your questions. He doesn’t respond and instead throws the machine gun behind you, putting both his strong arms around your midriff, “Koba want you.” He snarls, impatient.

You snort and sigh, blushing despite yourself. These apes are really something. “I…”

“No talk.” He cuts you off, covering your lips with his calloused hand swiftly, yet tenderly. You obeyed if only because of the fear of turning out just like your dead buddies, but you wouldn’t fool yourself and pretend you weren’t enjoying him holding you like this. And Koba was aware of that too, huffing softly, “come?”

You took in what he was asking. He wanted you to leave the group with him? For what? For how long? His bright eye watched you carefully, even expectantly, eager for an answer. You thought back to the light you were fixing just now; this place was falling apart, anyway, and you’d had your fair share of disagreements with the leader more than once ever since the apes came along. You were almost certain they’d cause a war one way or the other, from both sides, and at some point you’d have to choose your own. And you sure as hell weren’t gonna be on Dreyfus’.  

Pulling you out of your thoughts, he asserted, giving your waist a tighter squeeze just in case, “with Koba.”

“Yes.” You breathe, not even letting him close his mouth entirely. Koba hoots gently and joins your foreheads. You smile and cup his face, blurting out in a small snicker, “this is crazy.”

The ape grunted in agreement, a smirk playing across his thick lips as you touched his scars so delicately. He closed his eyes and huffed, enjoying the warm sensation of your breath on his skin. He nuzzled into the soft hollow of your neck and sniffed, taking in as much of your muskiness as he could, eliciting a low rumble from his throat and pulling you against him forcefully, almost possessively.

“Crazy ape.” The ape follows your amusement in kind, placing a hand on his own chest. His fangs appear more as he grins, now pointing to you, “crazy human.”

[azzibuckets]

For the Love of the Game [Pazzi | Part 10/10]

paige bueckers x azzi fudd

summary: the end 🙏

a/n: decided to combine the last two chapters into one! don’t mind the abrupt ending

word count: 2.1k

masterlist w/ all parts

“You and Paige played together on the U16 and U17 USA Basketball teams, where you guys won a championship at the 2018 FIBA World Cup. Has there been a noticeable difference in your on-court chemistry from USA Baskerball to UConn after the development of your more personal relationship?”

Azzi stared at Leo blankly. “With Paige’s ACL, we haven’t gotten many opportunities to play together yet, so I wouldn’t know.”

Leo raised her eyebrows expectantly. When Azzi crossed her arms and looked away, refusing to speak anymore, she sighed in frustration and clicked her pen. “Okay…” she drawled out. Her eyes scanned her notes for the next question. “Paige was the first freshman to win the AP and Naismith Player of the Year. Although she’s still an underclassman, it would be fair to say she has a lot of valuable experience and natural leadership. What have you personally learned from Paige?”

“That she’s a fuck ass bitch,” Azzi whispered under her breath.

Leo leaned forward. “What was that?”

“Nothing.” Azzi smiled charmingly at the blinking red dot on the camera. “Paige definitely makes her presence known on the court.“ She paused, gathering her thoughts. Leo sent her an encouraging smile, her pen finally scribbling for the first time in the entire interview.

Azzi thought back to the way Paige had used to speak to her, both in their time playing together at USA Basketball and in the months leading up to their agreement. “It’s the fact that you can’t shoot a mid ranger without getting the ball turned over. These are basic foundations of basketball, Fudd. You’re playing college ball now. It’s time to grow up.” Paige had spat, months earlier. Azzi pursed her lips, her anger further fueled from the words they’d thrown at each other in the hospital bathroom the week before. “If she sees a weakness or a flaw in your play, she won’t hesitate to point it out. She likes having her way with things.” Leo’s smile slowly faded. “She has a whole system set up at UConn, and if you dare challenge it, she’ll make you regret it.” By the end of her rant, Azzi was rigid in her seat, the tips of her ears on fire as she riled herself up.

Leo’s pen slowly started moving. She aggressively slammed down her pen and paused the camera. “We can’t use that!”

Azzi looked innocently at her. “Why not?”

“No one is gonna watch this film and think you guys are dating with the way you’re speaking about her,” Leo scowled.

Azzi rolled her eyes. “I doubt Paige said anything positive about me either. Why can’t you just bin the interviews and work with the segments you already have?”

“No, she didn’t,” Leo answered roughly. “Paige gave great answers. You’re the one that’s hard to work with.”

Azzi’s leg stopped jittering. “What do you mean great answers?”

Leo clicked away on her laptop before swiveling it around to face the dark haired girl. “Watch,” she demanded, pressing play.

The video was dark and muted at first, until someone adjusted the camera and it showed Paige, sitting in one of those director’s cameras. A mic was attached to the collar of her jersey, and her hair was pinned up in her signature two braids and ponytail. Azzi’s heart ached. This was her first time seeing Paige since their incident in the bathroom, and she looked good. Better than good. She’d obviously recovered well from her surgery; her skin was glowing and the bags under her eyes were lighter than normal. Her deep blue eyes were sparkling, and she looked in a good mood.

Leo’s voice filtered in from off camera. “What do you like about Azzi?”

Paige smiled uneasily. “Basketball wise or uh,” she shifted in her seat, “girlfriend wise?”

“Both.”

“Well, in terms of basketball, I don’t really have to speak for her,” Paige laughed all nervous, and Azzi could feel her blood pumping faster through her veins. “I mean, everyone knows how good she is. She has a killer pull-up and unlimited range. Her jump shot is perfect, and she’s lethal with her catch and shoot threes.”

At that moment, Leo cut in. “Many people have been saying that with you out, UConn suffers a major drawback. Are you worried about the position of your team without your guidance on the court?”

Paige’s expression changed. “I hear that, and I understand that, but honestly, I’m not as worried as people think I am. Each player on the team is a valuable asset. If we’re talking about Azzi, she’s been putting in extra work to expand her offensive role ever since my injury. I’ve been watching her at practice, and let’s just say, I think that other teams should be even more scared of UConn this upcoming season.”

Azzi felt like someone had just dumped an entire bucket of ice water on her head. What was Paige saying? She’d expected Paige to be condescending, that of course the team was going to suffer badly without her, to laugh at the idea that Azzi would be able to compensate for her loss. But here Paige was, talking about Azzi like she’d hung the damn moon.

Leo’s voice on the video brought her back to attention. “Now, what about personally? You and Azzi have been recently named the ‘it couple’ of women’s baseball, even despite your…” Leo hesitated as she searched for the right word, “tumultuous history. We’d love to learn about what you appreciate about who fans have dubbed as the people’s princess.”

Paige smiled tightly. Azzi noticed her tapping her finger against the side of her leg, a nervous tic that not many people knew she had. “Azzi is a really good person.”

“Can you expand on that?”

Paige’s eyes focused on her lap. “She’s very selfless. Especially in the beginning, I struggled a lot mentally with my injury. Basketball means the world to me, and not being able to play it is devastating. But Azzi, you know, she’s torn her ACL before. She was there for me in the whole process, driving me to rehab sessions and making sure I always ate and doing stupid things with me to get my mind off my knee.” A faint smile flickered on the blonde’s lips as she thought to herself. “I probably wouldn’t have survived it without her.”

Azzi swallowed, trying to dissipate the knot forming in her throat. She’d been so furious at Paige just moments before - for minimizing her struggle to find her sexual identity, for trying to make their situation and her feelings so black and white when everything was a muddled grey for her. And now, Azzi was positively vibrating, like she was a little schoolgirl whose crush had just complimented her.

“You see?” Leo shut her laptop, giving Azzi a pointed look. “This is what we’re aiming for.”

Azzi rubbed her palms together, thinking. Paige had callen her confusing, but right now, Paige was the confusing one. She’d essentially told Azzi to go away and never speak to her again, and then pulled shit like this. How could Azzi stay away from her when Paige was putting her name on a banner and waving it for everyone to see?

———————

Paige studied the notepad of plays in front of her. When the circles and xs and lines started blurring together on the paper from her staring at it so hard, she exhaled, letting her eyes shut for a moment.

“Hey,” Geno said gently from besides her. “Stop stressing. The girls got it.”

Paige nodded, looking up to watch her team as they warmed up for the season opener. Every bone in her body itched to be out there, stretching and warming up her shots with her girls. But she couldn’t, and right now she had to trust her team. Besides, she had an important job out here too. She’d helped draw up half of these plays, going over the strategy and who to place where in order to maximize each player’s individual talents and get as many points as possible.

Her eyes fell on Azzi. She looked nervous for her first official debut of her college career, and Paige wanted to mentally send her a message - to tell her to keep her chin up, to play as hard as possible and show everyone why she was the #1 high school recruit of her class. But Paige knew that talking to Azzi now for the first time in a month would probably heighten the girl’s nerves even more, so she kept her mouth shut, forcing herself to look away.

At half time of the game, Azzi had already scored 10 points, but Paige could tell that she was off. The crowds in the stands were large and loud, even for a season opener, and she could tell it was getting to the younger girl’s head by the way she kept missing shots she normally would’ve aced.

Someone tapped Paige’s shoulder from behind her. She turned around and saw a few guys sitting together who looked like they attended UConn. “Hey,” one of them nodded. “You miss being part of the action?”

Paige liked talking to fans, but right now she wanted to focus on the game, so she only gave a quick nod in response before turning around.

Soon, another tap came. Trying not to roll her eyes, she turned around again. “Yes?”

“It looks like your team needs you,” one of the guys chuckled, his eyes fixed on the court. Paige followed his gaze to the girls playing, and right on cue, Azzi sailed another shot. Paige’s heart lurched as the younger girl bit her lip and sprinted back to defense, a hollow look in her eyes.

“You carry the team, bro. Number 35 just missed again. You might need to give her some pointers.” The guy grinned at her, as if what he’d said was a compliment. Then, as if he couldn’t get any more audacity, he whipped out a Sharpie and dropped it on her lap. “By the way, can you sign my jersey?”

Paige stared in disbelief at the Sharpie before she picked it up and threw it at his face. She felt a sadistic sense of satisfaction as the Sharpie hit the guy right in the eye and he howled, hands going to up to massage the area.

“I’m not signing any of your shit,” she growled. “Number 35 has a name, and Azzi Fudd would drop 20 on your sorry ass any day.” With that, she turned around, fury pulsing through her veins and enlivening her senses. She secretly applauded herself for having the self control not to punch the living daylights out of that guy right then and there.

Thankfully, Azzi seemed to get ahold of her nerves after Geno’s inspiring speech at half, going on to score 10 additional points while barely missing any more shots, an impressive performance for a freshman debut. The game ended with Aaliyah pulling through to hit the game-winning buzzer beater.

Deciding that was cause for celebration, the team decided to go to Tim’s for drinks together after. Paige went straight to the bar as soon as they arrived, ordering a Shirley Temple. When she turned around, she came face to face with the guys from the game earlier.

“Hey,” one of them smirked. “Go tell your lesbo girlfriend good job for me. She looked a little rusty tonight but if you give her my number I can help her with that.” Laughing, he threw a crumpled up piece of paper at Paige, hitting her in the chest, and that’s when everything went red.

Flinging her crutches to the side, Paige moved towards him with a ferocity she’d never felt, grabbing the collar of his shirt. “Listen here, motherfucker,” she hissed. “Clearly your mother didn’t teach you any manners so I guess it’s up to me.” She let go, and the guy stumbled back, fear in his eyes. Then she reared her first back and punched him.

The guy cried out in pain, blood gushing from his nose. Incensed, his friends turned on Paige. “Come on,” she becked her hands at them. “Give me all you’ve got.” The guy she’d hit with the Sharpie earlier lunged towards her, but before he could reach her, hands grabbed Paige’s hips and pulled her back.

“What the fuck are you doing?” A familiar voice growled into her ear, restraining Paige as her other teammates rushed to intervene.

“I was giving them what they deserved,” Paige said bitterly, turning away from the scene. She shook out her hand, her knuckles aching.

“In case you haven’t noticed, there’s three of them and one of you.” Azzi forcefully moved Paige’s hips so that they were facing each other now. “What the hell has gotten into you?”

“Azzi! Take Paige away before she does any more damage,” Nika demanded as one of the guys she was pushing away started spitting curses at Paige.

Azzi grabbed Paige’s crutches, marching her off to the bathroom. She slammed the door behind them, anger evident in the slanting of her eyebrows and flattening of her mouth. “Are you serious, Paige? Getting into fights at the bar? You could get a suspension for this!”

“It doesn’t matter.” Paige fixed her eyes on the peeling paint on the wall. “I can’t even play anyways.”

“You said you don’t need my help.” Azzi paced back and forth angrily. “But here you are, throwing yourself at the hands of three grown men.”

“I didn’t need your help. I had the situation under control,” Paige said coldly.

Azzi grabbed Paige’s shoulders, shaking them. “You’re in crutches, Paige. You can barely even move. I get that you’re frustrated with your injury but you can’t just ignore it!” Azzi slumped against the sink, her head in her hands. “Why’d you even start attacking them anyways? Nothing is worth putting yourself in danger like that.”

You’re worth it, Paige thought. But she stayed quiet, hoping Azzi’s anger would blow over.

“Are you serious? You’re not even gonna tell me what started this whole thing?” Azzi threw up her hands in exasperation. “Is this what you’re like now? Being all moody and mysterious and hitting people whenever you feel like it? I don’t even know you anymore.”

Paige clenched and unclenched her fist. The soreness was starting to get her. Azzi must’ve noticed, because she took her hand and examined it.

“It’s gonna bruise,” Azzi said, her voice now soft.

Paige shrugged.

Sighing, Azzi gently led Paige’s hand under the faucet. She gently washed away the blood on her knuckles. Paige flinched - not at the pain, but from the all too familiar feeling of Azzi’s fingers touching her.

Azzi managed to find some bandages after rummaging through the cabinets. She slowly wrapped the gauze around Paige’s knuckles, her touch sending electric sparks through Paige’s hand. Neither of them spoke as Azzi patched her up, the tension in the air thick.

Paige swallowed, the silence becoming overbearing. “They were saying things about you.”

Azzi’s eyes shot up, her hand stilling. “What?”

Paige ducked her head, avoiding her stare. “The guys. They were at the game and making stupid comments the entire time, and I mostly ignored them.” She huffed. “But then they came here, and when they said something else, I just lost it.”

Azzi’s jaw clenched. She finished wounding the bandage, but she didn’t let go of Paige’s hand, and Paige didn’t move either. “I don’t need you defending my honor,” Azzi said quietly. Her thumb brushed once against Paige’s knuckles. “People like those guys are always gonna talk. It’s better to just ignore them and not give them what they want.”

Paige grunted, clearly not heeding Azzi’s words.

Azzi’s lips parted. “I miss you.”

Paige grinded her teeth.

“And I know you miss me too.” Azzi put her finger under Paige’s chin, forcing her to make eye contact. “I watched your interview with Leo.”

Paige cursed. “I told her not to show you that.”

“I would’ve seen it eventually, once she published her film.” Azzi studied the blonde’s face, memorizing the features she’d missed so much. Her long eyelashes, the way they fluttered. The wrinkle in the corner of her eyebrow. The turn of her pretty pink lips.

“I know you’re angry that I couldn’t tell you what I wanted. I was still figuring myself out. And these past few weeks, I’ve been working at it. Trying to come to terms with my sexuality.” Azzi took a deep breath, stepping closer. Paige’s hands instinctively went down, brushing the younger girl’s waist as the distance between them grew closer.

“I think I’m bi,” Azzi breathed out. “And if you can’t respect that, then I don’t think we can be together. But I don’t think my sexuality was the issue. I think that you were hurting, and you were impatient, and you wanted an immediate answer, and when I couldn’t give that to you, you ran away.”

Paige’s eyebrows furrowed.

“We’re killing each other, P,” Azzi whispered. “It’s torture not being able to see you and kiss you every day. And you’re obviously not coping with it any better than I am.” She brought her hands to cup Paige’s face, pressing their foreheads together. Paige relaxed, leaning into her touch.

“I need you, Paige,” Azzi begged. “I need us.”

Paige’s heart erupted, and she closed the gap between them, bringing her lips to Azzi’s and pulling her in for a bruising kiss. Azzi gasped, but recovered quickly, tangling her hands into Paige’s hair.

“‘M sorry,” Paige breathed as soon as they broke apart. “I was so awful. I should’ve never made you feel stupid for trying to figure out your sexuality.” She bit her lip, anguish in her eyes. “It’s just always been so easy for me. I’ve always known I liked girls. I was being hot-headed and I didn’t consider how you were feeling.”

Azzi laughed. “Yeah, that was pretty shitty of you. But I did some selfish shit too.” She nudged her nose with Paige’s. “And I think it’d be fair to call us even.”

Paige trailed her hands up Azzi’s sides. “What I told you at my surgery was complete bullshit. You’re always on my mind, driving me fuckin’ insane. I’ve missed you so much.”

“I know. Getting into fights and everything. A little part of me is flattered,” Azzi joked. Paige groaned in embarrassment, hiding her face in the crease of Azzi’s neck. Azzi brought her hands up to rub her back in calming circles. “Everything’s over. We went on the Europe trip, where you ignored me the whole time,” she laughed at that. “And Leo’s done with her film. She’s set to submit it tomorrow.”

Paige nodded, drawing back to look Azzi in the eye. “No more of this fake dating shit. I want you to be my girl for real.” She tenderly caressed Azzi’s cheek, not believing how someone as beautiful and kind as Azzi could want someone like her. “I meant everything I said in the interview, ya know? About how talented you are at basketball and how selfless you are in real life.”

“I know,” Azzi whispered, “I know.”

“I’m gonna take you on a date,” Paige rambled. “A good fucking date. The best date you’ve ever had. Gonna make you forget about all the other girls you’ve ever been with.”

“That sounds great, baby,” Azzi giggled softly, her hand playing with the wisps of hair at the base of Pige’s neck.

“Gonna make you fall in love with me,” Paige mumbled, her head dropping on Azzi’s shoulder. Azzi smiled. You already have, she thought silently.

[gilverrwrites]

I love your sex dream hcs and was wondering if you could do Lucifer having an F!reader erotic dream, please? 😁 @tocastielandback

Lucifer/Reader, ≈800 words

Request Info | Masterlist | Ko-Fi

I must apologise that this is not as explicit as the previous ones, but this just felt right. Rated: M

>[TFW Version Here]<

CW: Body worship, (hints of) powerplay, Dom!Lucifer (if you squint)

Please remember: You are allowed to love yourself.

The feel of your body against his is simultaneously unsettling and highly pleasurable. Your soft lips pepper kisses up and down his chest, warming his cool skin with every touch. He bites at his lip, holding back shivers of appreciation as you work your way upward pressing your own lips against his collar, throat, and jaw. You’re almost at face level, and you incline upwards, pursing your lips, ready to connect them with his own. Instead, he places his hand against your collarbone, splaying his fingers to stretch either side. Forcing your body backwards, his lips spreading into an amused grin. “What’s so funny?” You peer at him quizzically through heavy lids. “You.” He teases, enjoying the way you pout in response. “What would your precious friends think if they saw you like this? Worshipping ‘the devil’?”  “I wouldn’t care.” Your voice, and especially your words, are music to his ears. He promptly releases his hold on your neck, sliding his hand around your back and pulling you in for your reward.

You’re sat, hunched over a desk, nose buried in some dusty old tome when he finds you. Without thinking or caring, he leans over you from behind, planting his hands against the table on either side of you, confining you as he breathes in your scene. He has no idea if it's au naturale or artificial, but it is intoxicating nonetheless, and completely synonymous with you. 

To your credit, you keep your composure, but he can sense the increase in your heart rate.

“What are you doing?” Your voice is slow, deliberate, guarded. He wants so badly to strip away your armour.

“Can’t I just want to see my favourite human?” He chimes.

You don’t respond, refocusing on your book. A pang of petty jealousy? Rejection? Some nonsense ape-like emotion hits him, and he huffs as he pulls away from you. He relocates to the chair beside you, smug at the side eye you shoot him when he haphazardly kicks his feet onto the table.

When your silence persists, he feels the need to fill it.

“Well, since you really want to know, I truly am here to see you.” Still nothing. “I wanted to tell you about a dream I had.”

“Angels don’t dream.” You reply matter-of-factly, and he relishes in knowing he’s about to school you.

“Actually, yes, we do. As an Archangel, I would know.” He enunciates his point with the wag of his finger. Your eyes follow his hand, and he can’t help but wiggle all four of them, knowing he’s caught your attention. “We just have no practical need to sleep, so we don’t do it often.”

“Right.” You sound sceptical, and your sweet, sweet, attention is short-lived as you refocus on the desk. “And what does this have to do with me?”

Keen to draw you back to him, he taps his finger on the desk beside you. When you look at it, he points to himself, guiding you.  You sigh and roll your eyes before you look to his face. He might have been offended, but there’s a playful glint in your eye and growing warmth in your aura that tells him you’re enjoying his company more than you’d like to let one.

“Because you…” He gestures back and forth between you both. “Were in it.”

You blink once, twice; processing. When it settles, you proceed to stare at him, waiting for him to go on. He pointedly stares back at you in silence, folding his arms to display his new authority in this little dynamic. He’s piqued your curiosity, but now you’ll have to ask him for satisfaction.

You’re undeniably cute. Watching your expressions and mannerisms play out as you process his statement, as you realise your predicament, amuses him greatly. You turn back to your work, then to him again, and back and forth as you deliberate between your primary two options. To ask or not to ask. Eventually, the temptation wins out.  

“And?” You raise your brows expectantly. “What happened?”

“If you want to know, you’ll have to ask nicer than that.” He’s pushing his luck, and he knows it, but he’s confident you’re already too hooked to back out now.

You purse your lip as you calculate your next move. The image is unintentionally charming to him. He wonders if you’ll bite now, or if you’ll take the hard-to-get route, pretending you don’t want to know. Either is equally appealing to him, because he’s certain he’ll win out in the end.

Dropping his feet to the floor, he places an elbow on the table just inches from your arm, he uses it for balance as he leans in closer, keeping his expression as straight as possible. “Well?”

The beat of your heart is picking up again; you’re on edge, and he loves it.

“Okay, fine.” You concede. He feels his face twist, like the cat that got the cream, as you continue. “Please, Lucifer?”

[deltaromeo3]

ʜᴇʀᴇ ᴀʟʟ ᴀʟᴏɴɢ ⋆ Lando Norris

pairing: Lando Norris x childhood!friend reader

summary: Good or bad, she was always there for him. But things between them changes once he starts to become rich and famous; but it’s not for the reason you think it is.

requested by: this ask

A/N: changed it up a lil! Hope you don’t mind. Enjoy!🫶🏼

How could he forget the one person who was always there for him?

You knew Lando since he was racing in karts. Heck, maybe even before that. But this was a given since your brother was best friends with Lando.

Of course, with that comes the inevitable; liking your brother’s friend. You had no idea when it started but maybe it was that one summer day in Italy.

You were on summer break with Lando, your brother (of course) and their group of friends. This was a yearly thing, and they would always head down to Italy. This year, you decided to tag along after much bugging from Lando.

You were laying down at the back of Lando’s yacht reading a book while the rest were out swimming. Your peace and quiet was rudely interrupted when Lando splashed water on you, getting you wet.

“What was that for?!” You yelled.

“C’mon!” He gestures. “The water’s nice!”

You groaned, rolling your eyes. “I will if you promise to buy me a new copy,” You showed him your now damp book.

He laughs, “Just one? I can buy you ten.. a hundred even.”

“Whatever,” You rolled your eyes. Cocky.

Nonetheless, you jumped in the water. He swims up to you.

“Liking Italy so far?” He asks.

“Yeah. It- it’s good.” You stuttered as you were shocked by the sudden closeness in proximity.

He smiles. “Good. I’ll make sure to bring you back here every year, kay?”

“You don’t have to,”

“I want to. I like having you around. Your brother? Not so much. He’s such an annoying-“ The conversation cuts off when your brother splashes water on the both of you, well mostly Lando.

“Oi!” He calls out.

“…prick!” Lando splashes water back at him and they start fighting.

You laughed at their antics. It has always been like this since young.

With the closeness, came questions.

It was obvious that you were someone important to him.

Whenever you came by to his home in Monaco, the fridge would be stocked with your favourite drinks and the pantry would be filled with your favourite snacks. When your brother found out, all he said was “Oh I see that he has favourites. And it’s not me.”

You liked spending time with him, and he made it very clear he liked having you around.

Fans would even ask about you on his live streams.

And most of the times, he would call out for you (if you were with him of course.)

You would always smile and wave to the fans and it was like they would go ape-shit over you. Some even asked if you two were really friends, and you confirmed it by saying yes. He didn’t like you like that anyway.

It has been a month. A month of Lando giving you the cold shoulder.

It started off when he didn’t acknowledge your presence in the garage. You knew something was off, but you didn’t want to bug him about it.

Usually, after every race he would bring you to dinner at a fancy restaurant. He would even go as far as asking recommendations from other drivers.

He knew you loved food and that it was your first in every country you went to with him, so he made a promise that after every race, good or bad, he would always bring you out.

But that night, after his race in Monaco, all you got was a “sorry I’m calling it an early night” text from Lando.

What a prick!

You were gutted as you were already dressed up. You sighed, throwing your purse on the bed.

That night, when you lay in bed, scrolling on Instagram, you saw his Instagram story. Lando did not call it an early night. In fact, he was partying with the other drivers. This obviously surprised you but you thought nothing of it.

Of course, you still went to his races, but it was like you were invisible now. Suddenly coming every Sunday started to feel like a waste of time; the person you supported didn’t even acknowledge your existence.

“And where are you off to?” Your brother asks.

You shrugged. “He doesn’t even want me here anyways,” You took your headset off and left.

You walked away from McLaren’s garage to go walk around the paddock… and right to Ferrari’s.

What better way to spend your time, right? Going somewhere you were actually wanted.

You walked into the garage, a sea of red hitting you. You weren’t used to this… you were much more familiar with the orange walls instead of red. The workers greeted you and you did the same.

“Cariño!” He shouts as soon as he sees you. He walks over to you, engulfing you in a hug. “What are you doing here?”

You smile. “Why? Can’t I come see my favourite driver?”

He cocks an eyebrow. “Favourite?” He laughs. “Isn’t your favourite Lando?”

You rolled your eyes at the question. “Not anymore. It’s you now.”

He blushed. “Well, I’m honoured. And please, stay as long as you want.”

“I will.”

“Good. I’ll be back.” He disappears into the sea of mechanics and you stayed, watching him from the back of the garage.

This had been going on for a while, and obviously your brother had caught on.

At first, he too was confused to as why his best friend wasn’t talking to his sister anymore, he figured it was because the two of you fought, but that wasn’t the case. The pair of you never fight. A few disagreements maybe, mostly because Lando wouldn’t last a day without talking to you.

But soon, the reason behind that became clear on one night he was over at Lando’s, gaming with him.

The laughter dies down. So I decided to pop the question. Y’know, rip it off like a bandaid or whatever.

“Lan,” I call out.

He hums in response.

“What’s up with you and y/n? Everything okay? You know I can always talk to her for you right?”

I see him let out a heavy breathe. “Nothing’s wrong,”

I squint. I know he’s lying. “Really?”

He nods.

“Cmon Lan.” I nudge him. “I’ve known you for years. What is it?”

He sighs, “It’s nothing Dylan. Nothing is going on.”

I sigh, “Well she’s saying she thinks it’s because you’re famous now, that the fame has gotten to your head. And I know that’s not it cause I’m sitting here playing games with you. She’s upset, Lan. Talk to her, will you?”

He laughs, but not because what I said was funny, more like in disbelief. “Tell her to talk to Carlos instead.”

I snap my head towards him. “Carlos? What does he have to do with this?”

“You should ask your sister,” He says, unhappily.

“Now why would I do that? You know I dont like prying into her life.”

“But you should. They’re getting close.” He scoffs.

“And what’s wrong with that? Wait, don’t tell me you’re jealous?”

He laughs, again. “I’m n-not jealous!”

“You’re lying! Lando!” I smacked his arm.

“Dylan I swear, I’m not!”

“You like my sister!”

“I do not!”

“You son of a bitch! I knew it! You like my sister.” Now it was my turn to laugh in disbelief.

“Shut up.” He says. “If word gets out I know who I’ll have to kill.”

“Your secret’s safe with me. But you have to talk to her though.”

He just hums in response.

You were scrolling on tiktok, waiting for Carlos to be done with changing. You came across a video of Lando and you. It was posted by what you assumed was a fan.

The video showed him looking at you. And it wasn’t a “that’s my bestfriend” kinda look… it was more of a “i adore you” look.

You scrolled past that tiktok video, brushing it off. Maybe you were overthinking it.

The video below that was of the same thing, just from another angle. You were so engrossed in the video you didn’t even realise Carlos was calling out for you.

“Cariño?”

You snapped out of the trance, quickly switching off your phone.

“Carlos,” You smile.

“Ready to go?”

You hum in response.

You no longer joined Lando for race weekends anymore. As sad as you were, you figured well, this was one way to get rid of a crush and someone who has been there for him this entire time.

You picked up your phone, calling your brother.

The line rings, and finally, “I need to talk to you,”

There was silence on the other end, “It’s about Lando, isnt it?” Your brother asks.

You sigh, “How’d you know?”

“You’re my sister. I know everything. What’s up?”

“Lando!” I shout as I entered his room.

“Lan! Lando!” I yell out once again.

“What!” I hear him respond. Sounds like it’s coming from the shower.

I barged in to the shower, Lando quickly covering himself.

“Relax. It’s not like I haven’t seen you naked.”

“Fair point.”

He relaxes and continues to shampoo his hair.

I took a seat on the toilet. “You said you’d talk to her, right?”

No response. He just goes silent. “Lando?”

“I…I have. It’s sorted.”

“Is that so… then why did she call me, crying?”

“What?” The water stops. Lando opens the glass door, poking his head out. “She’s crying? I made her cry?”

“Yeah. You did.”

“Well, shit. I fucked up, didn’t I.” He pinches the bridge of nose.

“Yeah. You did.” I repeat myself.

“I didn’t mean for it to get this bad, I swear Dylan. Everytime I try to talk to her, I can’t do it. Mate she’s got a thing for Carlos, not me.”

I laughed at the absurdity.

“Mate, you got to be shitting me. It’s my sister we’re talking about here.” I stopped. “Do you not see her lock screen? Even after all this while it’s still a picture of you during your first Euro Championship win. She still saves your contact as ‘bubba’ because that’s what she used to call you.“

I can see him form a slight smile. “Well that’s funny. I still have her contact saved as ‘nugget’.”

We laugh. “Icing her out like this is no way to do it. You love her Lan. Don’t let her think otherwise.“

You were tossing and turning, hoping to fall asleep. You figured it would be easy to fall asleep as it was raining. Usually the sound of rain usually lulls you to sleep easily. But tonight just like the other nights you were wide awake, thinking of Lando.

How could he forget me? How could he just toss me aside after all the times I was there for him? Did he just forget me because he’s rich and famous now? Do I not fit into his lifestyle? I know I’m no model but… God I miss him.

Suddenly, there was a knock on your door. The knocks were just getting more impatient. You groaned, leaving your bed. “I’m coming! Jesus.”

You unlocked the door in frustration, but all that frustration went away when the person who stood in front of your door was none other than Lando Norris.

“L-lando?” You croaked. “Wh-what are you doing here?”

“Hey,” He smiles. “Can I come in?”

“Uh, o-of course.” You stepped aside as he enters.

He clears his throat. You were still confused. When did he come home?

“So, listen.” He says, as he takes a seat. “I’m…” He exhales. “I’m here to apologise. It’s not that I forgot you, or that you don’t fit into my lifestyle. You do, and you are one of the few people that understands this more than anyone. So,” He pauses, gathering all the courage he has. “I’m here to say that, yes.”

Yes what?

“Yes, I do like you. I’ve liked you since you took that trophy off my hands in Italy. I’m sorry I hurt you. And please, don’t ever doubt your place in my life, you’re always on top… after my career of course.”

You furrowed your eyebrows. “What took you so long?”

“What?”

“I said, what took you-“

“No I heard you the first time. I dunno.” He shrugs.

There was silence between the two of you. “Okay.” Was all you could say.

He leaves your apartment, relieved but unsatisfied. Maybe he was expecting a kiss. A hug? Maybe even for you to jump on him and cry?

He unlocks his car. It was pouring. When he was about to enter his car, a familiar voice stops him.

“Lando!” You stood, under the rain.

He rushes over to you. “What are you doing?! You’re gonna catch a cold! Your brother’s gonna kill me.”

You laugh. “I forgot to tell you,”

“Tell me what?”

“That I like you too. About damn time!”

He smiles. The widest you’ve ever seen. “Really? You don’t have a thing for Carlos?”

“No, I don’t. I’ve always had a thing for you though,”

He smiles, again. “Well, me too. I’m sorry it took me so long,”

“It’s okay. I was waiting. I was here all along.” You smile. He holds your face, brushing the rain on your face away with his thumbs. The gap between you two closes as he kisses you under the rain.

You pull away, “It’s not safe for you to drive home. And I need someone to keep me warm,” You flash him a cheeky smile.

“I’ll gladly be your human heater,” He says, kissing you once again.

[thebestofoneshots]

Gilded Constellations | (wolfstar x reader)

Series Masterlist | Previous episode

Pairing: Wolfstar x Reader Word Count: 6.2K Warnings: Use of the word fag in a derogatory way. The person that does it gets told off for it. Prompt: After the day you've had, you could really use a drink, if Rem let's you go through with it, at least. 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. Proofread by lovely: @aremuslupinsimp

Chapter 31: Strange Magic

You walked all the way to the common room as fast as you could, you were hoping your little talk with Reggie hadn’t been so long that it would have Lily and Remus worrying about you. Once you arrived, the lady in the portrait gave you a bit of a scowl. 

“It was you, wasn’t it?” 

You were taken aback. “Me? Whatever did I do?” 

She arched an eyebrow at you, looking rather displeased, “You gave the password to that pretty Slytherin girl and her younger friend.” 

“No,” you said with a head shake. “I’m not friends with the Slytheri–” 

“Hey, Star Seeker!” You heard Minho’s voice from behind. “You gonna let me in or what?” 

You winced at that, the fact that Minho had his quidditch sweater on only aggravating the situation further, the lady gave you a look and you shrugged. “I don’t ascribe to the whole house rivalry we’ve got going on.” 

“That’s right!” Minho said as he wrapped his arm around you and pulled you closer to him. “We’re transcendent mates.” 

“What?” You asked, turning to him with a frown. “Transcendent mates!?” 

“You’re telling me «chowol chingu» doesn’t have a literal translation that makes sense in English?” You shook your head, you might have studied many languages, but you had no idea what chowol chingu meant. “Like, umm…” Minho seemed to struggle to find the right words, trying to think of a time when he heard someone say something similar,  “Best chums?” 

“You almost blew my head off in the game today!” 

“Not my fault you were on the other team,” he said with a shrug. “Besides, I wasn’t nearly as bad as Barty.” 

You laughed. “Best chums then, all right,” you said as you shook your head. “Will you let us in?” you said, turning to the lady in the portrait with the same charming smile you used to convince Remus of silly things. 

She pursed her lips, rolled her eyes and took a deep breath before leaning her head down, “Password?” 

You smiled, “Boneless phoenix wings.” 

The portrait opened up like a door and allowed both you and Minho to get in. “It’s so much less hassle to get into my common room,” he said with a sigh. 

You hummed, “Yeah, your brick wall is nice, a lot less talkative, but the Lady on the portrait is a taste you acquire.” 

“How do you know about the brick wall?” He asked, a little confused. “Wait, it was you!” 

“No it wasn’t,” you said with a frown and looked around the room, Tom wasn’t too far. 

“It had to be you, and it makes so much sense omg, you little–” 

“Tom!” you called, the boy turned to you, and you shoved him onto Minho’s face, Minho was terrible at keeping secrets, and you weren’t about to spill the beans about the prank onto him, “Minho was looking for you, go ahead and talk,” You said with a smile before you scurried away. You noticed the blush on Minho’s neck as he threw you a desperate look and you just shrugged and shot him a wink. 

You slipped towards your room, Lily had found some nice clothes for you on the bed, and you smiled and changed into them. It was a pair of snug corduroy pants and a thick sweater. It was stylish and yet simple. You cleaned up and changed into the clothes, walking downstairs trying not to cause too much attention, skidding past some with your head low until you reached the spot where Remus stood. Near the fireplace, with a cup in one hand and a plate in the other, he was wearing a quidditch sweater that fit him snuggly, perhaps a little tight. 

“That’s not yours,” you said when you approached. 

“Sirius gave it to me, said it fit the spirit. Left it with a note on my bed and everything.”  He did not mention what Sirius had written in the note, “Wear it if we win, give it to Vix and cheer her up if we don’t”.

“Romantic,” you joked, Remus rolled his eyes, trying to avoid your gaze. “Suits you well.” 

“Must be for my dashing good looks.” 

“Oh… and it came along with Sirius’ personality.” He chuckled at your joke and finally turned to look at you again, almost allowing himself to get lost in your eyes. “You saved that for me, yeah?”

“In my pockets,” he said, hands still very occupied with food and drink. 

“Which one?”

“Back, left,” he said automatically, not realising you would reach down and grab it “Oi! That’s the right,” he complained as you dug your hand in his pocket, brushing his arse and making him panic slightly. 

“Sorry,” you mumbled and went for the other pocket “Should’ve specified which left.”

“There’s only one left!” he said in disbelief as you pulled the little flask out. 

You shrugged “Never been good at knowing which is which.” 

“Or… you just wanted an excuse to touch my arse.” 

“Oh no!” you said ironically, “You’ve discovered my evil scheme. All I wanted was to get a good feel of those round butt cheeks.” Remus almost choked on his drink from the laugh that got caught in his throat, you smiled and extended the small flask towards him. “Cheers mate,” you said before taking it to your mouth and drinking a few big gulps.

Remus left the plate on the mantle and pulled the flask off your mouth, “Hold up, slow down little witch!” The Firewhiskey was rather strong, he was sure you’d be tipsy in no time.

You looked at him reproachfully, your lips were wet and looked incredibly juicy before you gave them a lick and collected the remnants of alcohol from them, he forced himself to look at your eyes instead “Rem!” you reproached. 

“Uh-uh,” he shook his head as he raised the bottle above his head. “You tell me what this is all about and then I give it back to you.” 

“I just need a drink.” 

“Because of the fall? The monster in the swamp? Whatever you’ve got going on with Nightshade?”

Fucking perceptive werewolf best friend “No.” you said with a loose shake of the head, he realized you were being honest. 

You sighed and reclined against the side of the chimney, staring at him through your lashes with an expression akin to a reprimanded puppy. “Can I please…?” He shook his head and raised an eyebrow expectantly. “I had a talk with Regulus.” 

Remus’ eyes narrowed on you, lowering the flask as he looked at you in shock. “If he said something to you that–” The werewolf seemed about ready to throw punches, even if he didn’t think too bad of Reg in the first place, he also saw in him all the things of Sirius you did. 

But you shook your head, and he could see the contrition in your eyes, “He didn’t rat us out.” 

Remus tilted his head to the side, just a little, prompting you to continue. You let out another deep breath and looked to the side “So then how did…?” 

“He said they got an owl,” you explained, “Must have been the creepy wizard from ‘El Maleficio', I get chills from the memory.” 

“That’s the muggle but then not actually muggle magic shop, correct?” 

“Where we bought the animagus recipe and this,” you said as you pulled out the necklace Sirius had given you.

“He still has the mark from it.” 

“The mark?” you asked with a frown.

“I’ll tell you about it later.” Remus wasn’t sure if telling you about the bIood magic linked to it was a good idea, “So the man sent a note.” 

You shut your eyes at that, and your frown deepened. “They asked Regulus, he lied and then they– they gave him veritaserum.” 

“Oh.”

“And then there was the letter–” 

“The one you burned down.” 

You nodded, “I hadn’t gotten a reply to any of the letters I sent to Sirius and I was angry and sad and–” you sighed, “he said the letter explained it all.  Poor Regulus thought I was mad at him even if I knew– And I’ve been treating him like dog shit…” You let your head fall back with a groan. It crashed onto the wall, a little loud for Remus’ enhanced hearing and he worried. 

“It was a situational thing.” 

“I could’ve been more rational,” you said as you opened your eyes again, a reproachful tone directed straight at yourself. “Attempt to be a decent person–” 

“You’re already one of the nicest people I know,” he said “Stupid selfless if you ask me.” 

You threw him a look, a half-smile on your lips “I’m not selfless.” 

“Says the girl that was ready to be eaten…” 

“I wasn’t ready to be eaten! I was thinking of a different approach!” He raised an eyebrow and you pushed him back playfully, “Can I please, please get my flask back?” 

“Drinking your sorrows away is not a great habit.” 

“What do you mean sorrows? I caught the snitch, I should be celebrating!” 

He took a long sip of the firewhiskey before passing it over to you. “Don’t gulp it down again,” he warned. 

“Ugh, you’re such a mom,” you replied as you took a sip.

“A mom?!? Not a dad?” 

“Daddy maybe,” you snickered, he rolled his eyes at you but smiled regardless.

At some point, Marlene discovered you in the corner and dragged you to dance with her, you barely had time to hand the flask to Remus before she was prompting you to shake around in the improvised dance floor. After a while, you started to feel the strain in your shoulder and decided to lie down instead. But you were stopped by Nox, who waved at you from the side to get closer. 

“Hi!” you greeted, “Glad you and Comet made it.” 

He nodded in response and then hesitated as if he wanted to say something “Do you,” he scratched the back of his head, “Fucking Neil, I’m getting him for this,” he mumbled. “You see, some kids from my class and a few others who’ve joined decided to make a mini quidditch game.” You hummed in response. “Each of the teams we formed will be allowed to invite one of the pros to the game.” 

“One of the pros?” you asked, an eyebrow quirked. 

He nodded, “Yeah, one of the members of the quidditch teams…” he took a deep breath. “Would you… would you like to be in our team?” he asked.

You simply nodded, “Sure!”  The fact that James wouldn’t be too happy about you over-exerting yourself didn’t even cross our mind “Who’s the other player?” 

“It’s Alex Wood,” he told you “You’re friends, right?” 

You nodded, “It’ll be nice to see him as a keeper before the official game.” 

Nox shook his head “Oh no, he’s… he’s not going to be a keeper, he’ll play chaser.” 

“Really?” You asked, a little shocked. 

“Yeah, it was part of the rules, so the game was more balanced. We were thinking of making you a seeker, but well, it wouldn’t be very balanced, would it?” 

You raised your eyebrows “If that’s your way of complimenting my seeker skills Nox, I’ll take it gladly. Especially from a Slytherin.” 

“As if you needed more compliments than you already have,” he scoffed. “Anyway, how do you feel about being a chaser, or a beater?” 

“Well…” you said, rolling your wounded shoulder unconsciously.

“Can’t do beater sorry,” Sirius said as he wrapped one of his arms around you, placing his hand near enough your wound, not to hurt you, but to remind you. “She needs some time to recover after the fall.” 

“Puppy you’re back!” you said as you leaned onto him. “How was detention?” 

“Humdrum, as you’d expect,” he replied, not giving it too much thought. “If you need a beater I could fill in for her.” 

“Oh no,” Nox shook his head calmly. “She can be a chaser, it’d better actually, I believe, Solacis wanted to be a beater.” 

Sirius tilted his head, and Nox swallowed “Anyway, that was what I wanted to ask, I’ll give you more details about the game during the week,” he said before scurrying off. 

You turned to Sirius, “You threw him the look.” 

“You shouldn’t be playing quidditch,” he responded simply and squeezed your arm a little. “You should be resting instead.” 

You shrugged, “We won.” 

He nodded “Peter told me,” he said with a slightly displeased nod and leaned the butterbeer he had in his hand towards you, “Want some?” 

You took it from his hand and gave it a sip, “Did he tell you about…” 

“The way you fucking jumped off your broom? Of course, he did.” 

“Nosy little rat,” you mumbled. 

“And you think I wouldn’t have found out?!?” 

You shrugged. “I didn’t jump off, by the way… My broom was being coursed, I would have fallen down regardless, I just thought I’d have higher chances of getting the snitch if I leapt towards it.”

“And your counter jinx didn’t work?” 

“What?” You asked, head snapping his way, eyes opened wide.

“Your counter Jinx? I assume it wasn’t working because–“ he noticed the surprise on your face. “You did try to use a counter jinx before jumping off your broom, right?” You looked at him, dazed.  “Starshine…” 

You gave him an apologetic look, “I guess I just didn’t… I needed to get the snitch.” 

He groaned, laying his head on your shoulder. “You do know counter jinxes, right luv?” he asked, turning to look at you, still from the crook of your neck, his breath tickling over your soft skin. 

 You swallowed, the closeness making you nervous. “Well… I mean I know a few, not a specific one but–”

“I know a couple, I’ll teach you,” he said determinedly. “We’ll practise next time we go flying with James, I’ll be trying to throw you off and you’ll have to counter it. It’s advanced wandless magic, but if anyone can master it, it’s you.” 

You leaned down and gave him a small peck on the temple, “Thanks Pups.” 

“Pas de problème,” he said simply. 

“Sirius we need to move,” James said as he gripped your boyfriend from his jacket and hauled him off your shoulder. 

Your boyfriend groaned at the loss of your touch, “James, next time you cockblock me like this I will hex you.” 

“McGonagall is coming,” James said simply.  Sirius’ breath hitched. 

“What’s wrong with that?” you asked. 

“She gave us specific instructions to go straight to our room,” Sirius explained.  “Said if we didn’t, we’d be in detention for a lot longer.”  

“Invisibility cloak?” you asked looking at James, he shook his head and you took your wand out, disillusioning them both at the same time, “Go, I’ll distract her.” 

“Thanks, Vix,” you heard James say quietly.

Then felt a hot breath on your shoulder. “On the hideout we used for Marlene’s party after Maggie’s gone to check our room, I’ll take the cloak.” 

You turned to him with a smirk, even if you couldn’t see him, and nodded. Then you moved towards McGonagall, who was looking around the heads of students in the common room. 

”Professor!” You called, she turned to you, hesitant, as if she still needed to find something, “Professor I’ve been meaning to ask you something.” 

She sighed and turned to you, “Yes, darling?” 

You smiled at her, charming and apologetic, “If I’m distracting you then–” 

She shook her head, almost feeling bad at herself for not giving you the necessary attention, “Are you alright? That was– it was a nasty fall you took on,” she grimaced. 

And then you remembered, she was going to be a professional player but fell off her broom and got injured, you instantly felt bad, your fall must have brought back a lot of memories, “I am,” you responded quickly and changed the subject. “But it’s… It’s actually about transfiguration… I thought you would ask Remus to help me with tutoring?” 

She looked at you a little taken aback, “You didn’t ask him yourself?” 

You shook your head “I should have?”  

“Well, since you were in classes together. And you seem to be really close, I assumed you had already… Never mind, would you like me to ask him?” 

“Uh… no, no, I suppose I can just do it myself.” She frowned but nodded, and then gave a step as if to go back to searching “Wait!” you said, a little worried James hadn’t gotten to his room yet. 

“I’m…” fuck what do I even say, “I’d like to know about contraceptive potions.” The professor seemed visibly scandalised at your question, “For a friend,” you added meekly. 

She gave you a rather stern look, I’ve fucked it up, I’ve fucked it up, but McGonagall just sighed and nodded. “It’s only natural to be curious about this stuff,” she started approaching the subject in a rather neutral and tentative tone. I really fucked it up. “Especially when it’s not a subject included in the curriculum. And believe me, I have been trying to include it for the longest time.” 

You held back a gasp, looking at her surprised, “Wait, really?” 

She nodded, “Generally I gather the Gryffindors in the last year to teach them the basics before they go out in the world but I suppose since you’re dating Mr. Black, and Merlin knows that boy is rather… eager–” You winced, way to throw poor Sirius under the bus. You already knew how to brew the potion, you’d gotten the recipe from a book Marlene had borrowed, given to her by her older sister, and you certainly didn’t expect to have that kind of talk with Minnie, but you had to pull through, for your friends. “So I suppose you could come to our next meeting, of course you’d have to get a letter from your parents stating you can do so, since you’re still under age.” 

You nodded, trying to settle the small frown that had formed on your face. Now you’d have to find a way to fake a letter from your mom or something, “Of course,” you said, “thank you very much, Professor McGonagall.” 

She gave you a look and sighed again, “Is there anything else I can help you with?” 

You realised you were still blocking her way, and you shook your head “No, no… I’m sorry,” you responded and moved out of her way, looking at the way she disappeared through the stairs. You took a deep breath and sat on one of the sofas. Head laying back as you processed what had happened until you felt the pressure shift beneath you. 

You turned to the side and smiled when you spotted him, he had a glass of something that smelled alcoholic in his left hand “Hey Pete!” 

“You know, I’ve been thinking…”

“Must have hurt.”

“Prick!” He said with a laugh as he shoved you with his shoulder and then proceeded, “When I was 10 my parents got me my own cat.” He said. You knew he was going to continue talking so you let him. “And we rubbed the kitten on my sister’s older cat so she would accept it as part of their family.”

You nodded, frowning a little as you tried to process what he’d said “I don’t have a kitten.” 

He frowned and then realised his statement might have been a little ambiguous. “Oh, well… I mean, you know how Moony chased you fiercely last moon and he’d been chasing after you earlier too. Like, in the previous moons he’d been absolutely relentless, wanting to get in the castle, almost impossible for Padfoot and Prongs to control. I think… well I think it might be because of the way you smell? I mean I’m not nearly as good as Pads with the sense of smell but… you do have a rather strong scent.”  

Your frown deepened. Strong scent? “Should I be offended?” 

He shook his head quickly “NO! I don’t mean to say that you smell bad!” He was stumbling with his words “I’m just saying it’s distinctive… especially for us, probably a lot more for them since they’re canines too.” 

 “So… bottom line is, you’re saying I should go rub myself into Remus?!” You asked incredulously. He flushed. But then you thought about it. It wasn’t that far-fetched… “I’m around you guys all the time, the smell should already be there already anyway, right? Didn’t seem to help last Monday either.”

Peter shook his head “You’re not around us in animagi form.” 

“Oh, so I’m supposed to turn into a fox and then go rub on Remus? Cross my paws he doesn’t eat me on the spot?” 

“Not Remus! You could rub on Padfoot or- Prongs…. I’d say me but I’m way too small,” He explained “That would give you the smell of the pack.” 

“Right…” you trailed off “And that would work? As in, if I go around, trying to get Sirius’ scent all over me, the wolf won’t try to eat me next time he sees me?”

“It’s worth a shot?” Peter said with a shrug “I mean it’s that or he’ll keep looking for you. You know once a werewolf catches a scent it’s… impossible to stop it. And you’re dating Sirius anyway, so take it as quality bonding time.”

You reclined on the sofa, trying to take all the new information in, the more you thought about it, the more it made sense. Perhaps it really could work. Remus sat beside you a little after “Saw you talk to Minnie, everything all right?” 

You groaned at that, letting your head fall back again as you reached for the flask in his hand and brought it to your lips, taking a sip and feeling the taste burn your throat. You sighed, “I need to falsify a letter from my mum.” 

Remus raised an eyebrow “Why?” 

“I asked Professor McGonagall about contraceptive potions,” you said reluctantly, as you shut your eyes. 

Peter, who seemed shocked, was the one to speak next “Oi? Yes I’m coming!” he said as if someone had called him and then stood up and fled. 

Remus on the other side, had tensed, but you were way too fucking preoccupied with the memory to notice. “For you and Sirius…” he acknowledged, almost bitterly, “we could’ve gotten them in the restricted section,” he added, trying exceptionally hard not to clench his jaw.

You turned to him in shock, “What?! I didn’t ask because I needed them! I needed to distract Maggie so Prongs and Pads could run off to their room, couldn’t think of anything better. I already have the recipe anyway, Ma– it was given to me.”

“Oh,” he managed to say then, as if your answer made the whole thing better. “You want help with it?” 

“With what? The fake letter or brewing the potion?” You asked, diverted. 

Remus shrugged, managing to slip back into a chiller demeanour somehow “Both?” 

You laughed, “That’s incredibly kind of you Rem,” you responded. “I’ll tell you when I require help… For now, though, I just need a drink,” you said as you took another sip and then remembered the conversation with Maggie again “Ugh, she now thinks we’re nothing but horny teenagers.” 

“She’s not wrong,” he teased with a smile and you elbowed him in response.

“Arse.” 

You then felt a tug at your hair, you turned around and there was nothing. You narrowed your eyes but took another sip. And then you felt it again. You knew who it was in an instant and stood up. 

“You leaving?” He asked as you did, not being able to mask his disappointment, even just having you beside him made him feel better. 

“Mhm,” you said as you bit your lip, not wanting to prove his point, “I’ll go get some snacks, want some?” 

He shook his head, and you started walking to the hideout. Sirius was just behind you, using the cloak to hide, his hand firmly pressed to your shoulder. You looked back, and then the two of you attempted to slide inside the tight passage, but there were already two people inside. And those two people were snogging. You pulled back, stepping on the cloak and causing it to fall from Sirius’ shoulders. The four of you staring at each other in complete shock. Two of which were a lot more mortified than the rest. 

You, being distracted by the situation, did not feel the way Sirius’s hand on your shoulder tensed. And since your back was to him, you also didn’t notice the way his eyes had gone wide or the way his breath hitched on his throat. 

“Oh hey Sly Sprite, wanna join in?” Tom joked as he stared at you, Sirius, somehow overcoming the initial shock gave him a murderous look, the same he had used on Nox earlier, the Black family scowl, but it seemed to have no effect on the boy. “You can join too handsome,” he winked. Earning a slap on the shoulder from Minho.

Sirius, who had been enthralled in the sight, was instantly taken aback by Tom’s words as you spoke, “Sorry to bother you boys, we’ll find a different place to snog.” You had a very apologetic look on your face as you grabbed the cloak from the floor but Minho grabbed onto your arm, eyes pleading. “Don’t worry, I’ll deal with him,” you told him, “Not a soul will find out.” 

“You promise?” He asked, still apprehensive. Tom, who had looked diverted up until that point, seemed to understand the delicacy of the subject for Minho, and placed a hand on his upper arm reassuringly. 

“Sirius is trustworthy, as much as Sly Sprite, no one will know unless you want it,” Tom said, he was now rubbing Minho’s arm reassuringly.  

“Yes, that’s true,” you agreed, “I’ll talk to him Min, just enjoy yourself, and um… maybe put a spell up so this doesn’t happen again.” You then grabbed Sirius by the arm, and covered the two of you with the cloak.

Minutes stretched into silence as you and Sirius moved away from the spectacle, the sounds of the party fading into the background as you pulled him towards a different direction. 

Up until then, Sirius Black had never seen two boys kiss. And he was experiencing things he was so not supposed to be experiencing after it. You were still dragging him towards a different section, your hand intertwined with his as you sorted through people, as he stared blankly ahead. You didn’t stop until you were both hidden on a small section near the back of the spiral staircase that you knew was also another snogging spot, but a lot less used because of how cramped it was. You didn’t mind being so close to Sirius though, you never had.

“Tom and Minho, they’re… fags?” he said once you cast a muffliato around the two of you.

“That’s an awful word to use,” you reprimanded with a frown, Sirius seemed to be taken aback by it. 

“Gay.” 

You tilted your head, making a rather unconvinced hm, that just seemed to confuse Sirius even more, the scene of Tom and Minho kissing replying on his head over and over and over again, sometimes with them, sometimes with different people being the ones kissing. That was the one that scared him the most. 

“Well, technically Tom is Bi but–” 

“By? By what?” 

“Bisexual… or pan I think.” Your brain was a bit cloudy with how much you’d had to drink, and you were so not expecting to have this conversation with Sirius “He just doesn’t give a fuck about gender.” 

“And Minho?”

“I think he only likes boys, but I’m not sure, we didn’t talk much about it.” You admitted with a shrug “As you can see it’s a rather delicate subject for him.” 

“And you knew? About both of them,” he said with a frown. “Why did you know?” 

You shrugged, “Tom told me, with Minho I sort of guessed, and he spilled the beans about… never mind. You are aware absolutely no one can find out about that, right?” 

“But why? Rock singers… they too– I mean. Why do they hide it?”

“Cause people will start calling them fags if they don’t,” you said as if it were obvious. “Sirius if you were gay you wouldn’t go out and announce it to the entire world.” And then you thought about your words, and let a long sigh escape your lips “or perhaps you actually would.” 

Sirius seemed to think about it for a moment but didn’t say a thing. “So you can like men and women at the same time?” he asked, brow furrowing as he tried to process the information. Of the entire conversation, that had somehow slipped into his brain, and it would mull it over and over again since you mentioned it. He didn’t know. 

“Yeah,” you responded with a shrug, “I like girls too, sometimes,” you were not expecting to admit that to your boyfriend, but apparently that firewhiskey had been strong enough to let it slip by.

Sirius was surprised by that revelation, so surprised he almost let go of the initial wave of shock that had gone over him and the images that would play on his brain over and over again. Of Remus in the library, of him and Remus in the library. 

His initial reaction faded into a warm smile, and he chuckled lightly, this new discovery about you allowing him to forgo his thoughts only for a second, and mask them with humour, like he was accustomed to, "Well, that's interesting. Any particular stories you'd like to share?" He had an eyebrow raised, a cheeky smile on his lips. 

“Sirius.” You admonished. 

He shrugged, “What, it’s kind of hot.” 

You huffed out a laugh and turned to the side before looking back at him, half diverted that such a revelation garnered said reaction. Perhaps you should have expected it, you were dating Sirius Black after all. 

If you had been a little less drunk, and a little less tired from the fall just hours ago, perhaps you would have noticed the way Sirius’ eyes moved rapidly from one side to the other as he was thinking, how he asked about bisexuality with such a careful, and controlled tone, as if trying to sound casual and hoping his nerves wouldn’t betray his thoughts. You would have seen the way you stated you were also bi, had given him a sense of reassurance. As if his thoughts were somehow a little more acceptable now.

But you were exhausted, the fall, the talk with Regulus –that you still had to mention to Sirius– the talk with McGonagall, you were barely holding yourself together at that point. With so many things weighing over your shoulders, too preoccupied with Minho being found out and McGonagall’s thoughts of you that you missed most of it. Letting yourself be easily fooled by Sirius’ half smile and flirty wink.

Eventually, you turned your head back, looking at him straight in the eyes, and adopting a more grave tone “Sirius, nobody will know of what happened in that closet except for the two of us, deal? Not James, not Peter–” 

“Not Moony–” he finished. 

You were about to tell him Remus knew but thought better of it, Sirius was so naturally curious he’d want to know why he did, and there was no good way of explaining it.

“Yes,” you confirmed. 

“Okay,” he said simply. “No one will know.”

And then there was silence, something between a rather awkward situation and both of you deep in your thoughts. Sirius’ mind slipping back to the library, and the images of things that had never happened and could never happen, because he loved you. He was certain of that, and whatever the hell was going on in his brain must have been nothing more than his overactive imagination thinking of silly things. Silly tall things with big broad shoulders and brown-golden eyes. Silly things that smelled of books, chocolate and sometimes cigarette smoke. Silly things that he shouldn’t be thinking about but his stupid brain insisted on putting at the forefront of his head. 

You had, at some point, gravitated towards him, letting your head fall on his shoulder with a sigh, but didn’t say anything more. He found he liked you being close to him like that. Even if you weren’t kissing, he always liked having you close, holding your hands, or giving you hugs, and you had always been eager to return those affections. 

You were perfect, from your smaller frame to the way your breath tickled his neck, from the way your hands intertwined with his to the tip of your shoes clashing against his own. He looked down at you, at your eyes shut, resting on his shoulder, your lashes curling upwards and making you look absolutely angelic, he was sure it was one of the prettiest sights of his life, and yet his mind insisted on switching, the perfect image of you laying on his shoulder replaced by flashes of a taller figure in the library.

To his taller frame and his light brown lashes, to his warm breath and the way his large hand had covered his mouth. It was silly, you were perfect, and Sirius was sure, undoubtedly sure that he loved you like he hadn’t loved anyone in his entire life and yet, he kept thinking of him.

He was so engrossed in his own thoughts that he barely realised when you let out a long and silent yawn, let alone when the rhythm of your breath steadied or when your body slumped slightly a little more into his. Only noticing when you let out the lightest, most heart-warming snore he’d ever heard. He turned to you, your peaceful sleeping figure, and smiled at himself, admiring the way your eyes would tremble slightly, and the way your cheek pressed against his shoulder forcing your mouth into the tiniest of pouts. 

He chuckled “ Starshine! Did you fall asleep?” he teased. 

Your eyes opened up slowly, a frown etched on your face as you looked up to him. “No,” you lied shamelessly before yawning. Sirius’s little smirk just grew a tinge more. 

“Come on,” he said as he patted you on the arm. “You should get some sleep, you must be really tired.” 

You shook your head, or attempted to do it at least, only managing to shake it a little “I wanna be at the party… I wanna be with you.” 

Sirius could tell you were a lot more sleep than awake, especially since you were complaining like a toddler, he wished he could get you on recording. “I can’t be at the party,” he reminded you softly, his deep voice echoing in your ears soothingly. 

“Then just with you. I like it here.” 

“In the cramped space under the stairs?” 

You nodded with a confirming hum, “You’re warm.” 

Sirius nuzzled his head into yours and placed a soft kiss on your cheek. “If the fall is not making your bones creak by the morning, then sleeping while standing up in the most cramped little snogging hole in the entire common room will, come on, let’s get you to your room.” 

Your frown deepened “Party popper.” 

Sirius had never been called a party popper in his entire life, in fact, he’d go as far as to say he was always the life of the party. But eventually, you woke yourself enough to pull back and stare at him, your eyes still hooded with sleep and tiredness, not having had a minute of relaxation in almost the entire day, and being close to Sirius had somehow gotten you to let all your walls down and rest, maybe it was the dog in him, like a service dog or something. 

“You’re cute,” you said suddenly, and Sirius was so surprised that he went red. “Really cute,” you added with a satisfied smile. 

He chuckled a little afterwards, “I’m going to start thinking you’re not only sleepy but also seriously drunk.” 

You frowned, and yawned again “I’m neither,” you insisted. 

Gently, Sirius wrapped the cloak around the two of you and guided you up the stairs, you had leaned your head on his shoulder and drifted between sleep and awake a couple of times as he walked you up the staircase. When you were finally in your room he gave you another look, you lifted your head from his shoulder and tilted it the other way “What’re you looking at?” 

“At my stunning girlfriend,” he responded 

“Mhm?” 

“Mhm,” he confirmed, “go to bed now, you’ll feel like shit in the morning. I’ll tell James you’re not flying–” 

“I AM flying!” You complained, waking up enough to argue.

“You’ll have a hangover tomorrow–” 

“I had only like–” you counted with your fingers, but gave up after you finished with one of your hands, “A few sips.” 

“You’re a lightweight then, go to bed.” 

You scoffed, “Sirius Black, if you’re gone by the time I walk down in the morning because you convinced Prongs that I’m not coming, I’ll wake up Remus and tell him it’s your fault.” 

“Remus?” 

You nodded, “He gets pissed if he doesn’t sleep his hours and you’re working on your magical theory project with him tomorrow, he’ll be pissy and make you work extra.” 

Sirius frowned, “You little minx!” 

You gave him a satisfied smile, “So keep that in mind before leaving tomorrow. Besides, you promised we would practise counterspells.”

Series Masterlist | Next Chapter

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A/N: Well, the cat's outta the bag. A few chapters ago you were talking about Sirius figuring out Vixen is bi and I had already written this chapter, I kid you not, it was so hard to keep my mouth shut hehe. Side note: more of Sirius' gay panic, it's one of my favourite things to write ngl.

Read more Marauders Fiction

[vauxxy]

KILLER

spiderman!luke castellan x reader

part 1 || part 2

★ "i am sick of the chase but i'm hungry for blood, and theres nothing i can do"

ABOUT - luke castellan is new york's very own 'friendly neighbourhood spider-man'- because of course he fuckin' is. to make matters even better, you're the only one at school who knows. lucky you.

WARNINGS - australian slang yet again (sorry guys, i cant help it. its in my blood!), swearing, first person?? idk i thought it'd be cool. sorry if it sucks. lol. mentions of adderall (she has ADHD) and vaping. reader is a rich girl and the leader of the sassy girl apocolypse.

"are you okay, ma'am?"

"dont call me ma'am, luke."

"okay, what the fuck."

that's how i found out the nerd in my AP chemistry class was spider-boy. i mean, obviously i had caught on to his whole 'superhero thing' like, a week after the news articles started flooding in. it was so obvious.

luke is probably one of the only guys in the world dumb enough to put on a latex suit in order to help old ladies cross the street. sure, he's a good samaritan- and sure, he's saving small businesses from being mugged into bankruptcy and shit; but who cares?

every night, i see him swinging from building to building like a fucking weirdo. it gets old after the first 100 foot drop down from the hilton hotels building. like, we get it. you're spider-man. good for you.

sadly, my cynicism was brought to a halt as soon as he saved me from being brutally robbed on my way home. of course i got mugged on the one day i decided not to wear my doc martens. just my luck.

i used to cut through this sketchy alleyway to get to my bus stop because it took way too long walking around the block- that was my first mistake. DO NOT GO INTO SKETCHY ALLEYWAYS IN NEW YORK. NOTHING GOOD HAPPENS IN AN ALLEYWAY.

my second mistake was deciding against popping my second addy during 5th period, because if i had, then maybe i'd be alert enough to clock what was happening before this druggie had his glock pointed at my head. well, at least it wasn't his dick. praise the lord!

the druggie snuck behind me, before literally grabbing me by the neck and pushing me up against the wall of the dingy alleyway. then, he pulled out a WHOLE ASS GUN from his pocket and held it to my head, using the sleeve of his sweater to cover its form.

my breath hitched as the water bottle inside my backpack pressed against my spine. that was my third mistake. frank green water bottles hurt when they're pushing into your bones.

"you're gonna give me all the money you've got on you, kay?" he asked in a low, raspy voice. he definitely smoked 5 packs a day.

nevertheless, i nodded and reached into the side pocket of my backpack. i pulled out my cute little mimco purse and started taking out all the cash in it. it hurt my soul to get rid of it- that money was supposed to go towards my new vape. bummer.

my hands were shaking as they held the messy assortment of bills, waiting for him to take it from me and just leave me alone.

"good. thanks- dont be tellin' anyone about this, or else i'll find you,' he threatened, slowly pulling the gun away from my head.

"i wont, i swear!"

"you're taller than him, ma'am. why dont you just kick him to the curb?"

i furrowed my brows, my eyes scanning the alleyway for the origins of the voice. the origins of luke's voice.

his nasally tone was so distinct, i could recognise it with my head underwater.

"the fuck?" called out the short, ugly smoker with my money. he whipped his head around furiously, suddenly a lot more alarmed than when he was robbing me. suddenly, the nerdy loser in latex swung down and pushed him onto the cold ground.

spider-boy grabbed his wrists and held them behind his back, before webbing them together in some homemade handcuffs.

"are you fuckin' kidding me?" the guy grumbled, his voice muffled by the gravel pushing against his mouth as spider-dork held his head to the ground.

"nope, not kidding you," he sighed, using his webs to secure the man into his position on the ground. he dug into the mans pockets and pulled out my money.

yep, that was luke castellan all right.

spider-nerd leapt off the constrained druggie and walked over to me, handing me back my assortment of bills. "are you okay, ma'am?" he asked, looking downwards a bit to meet my gaze.

thats exactly how luke looks at me. he's gotta be luke- he HAS to be.

i had been watching luke for weeks. i had been analysing his every movement, every strange look and awkward gesture. i was 99.9% sure that spider-man was luke castellan.

but there was only one way to find out.

"dont call me ma'am, luke."

luke choked on air, taking a step forwards as he clumsily held onto the wall in shock. "okay, what the fuck?"

i laughed dryly, my eyes narrowed as i stared at him. the whole ‘spider-man’ thing really did suit him.

"you know?" he stuttered out. i nodded, before pointing over at the guy still squirming under his webs. "maybe you should get rid of him," i said calmly, crossing my arms over my chest after stuffing my money into the pocket of my jeans.

"oh. yeah, right."

before i knew it, luke had quite literally kicked the guy in the head to knock him out.

"are you allowed to do that?" i asked, my eyes wide in shock.

"nah, not really," luke shrugged, before looking down at his watch and pressing a few buttons.

"i thought you were supposed to be a friendly neighbourhood spider-boy," i retorted. luke scoffed, looking back up at me with what i could only assume to be a sly grin from under his mask. "its spider-man,” he corrected.

“and criminals who mess with pretty girls deserve to be curb stomped."

okay. yeah. he had a fair point. i am rather pretty.

then, out of nowhere, luke grabbed me by the waist and aimed his wrist towards the sky. before i knew it, he was swinging us towards the sky like a fucking lunatic.

“luke! what the fuck?!” i screamed, wrapping my arms around his neck and clinging to his body for dear life.

“what’s your addy?” he asked, his toned arm keeping me in place as it pressed against the small of my back.

‘what’s your addy?’ seriously? what a fuckin’ loser. i would’ve made fun of him for using snapchat lingo if it weren’t for how strong his arms were. jesus christ, they were so big and toned… no wonder he skips gym class every lesson; he doesn’t want to show off. what a humble king.

“uhh- greenhead avenue!” i cried out, digging my head into the nook of his neck. gods, he smelt good.

luke nodded, holding me tighter as he swung us through the air. “rodger that.”

“thanks for like… saving me, or whatever,”

i stood inside my bedroom, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear as i clung onto the window frame. luke took off his mask as he stood on the balcony, leaning against the railing. he shot me a meek smile, tilting his head to the side as a way to play down his cocky demeanour.

he’s never gonna let me live this down.

“don’t worry about it.”

he paused, letting his smile drop. “just- promise you won’t tell anyone?” luke asked, his voice low as he leaned forward.

of course i wasn’t going to tell anyone- i’m not a total cunt. i have morals… sometimes.

“i promise, luke.”

he smiled, pulling his mask back over his head before taking a step back. “great. see you on monday,” he called out, jumping off the railing and swinging away from my apartment building.

as soon as he left, i face planted against my bed.

luke castellan was spider-man. i fucking knew it.

that was fine. i knew that.

but what really got me was how hot it was when he held me by the waist, how good he smelt, how raspy his voice was- WHAT THE FUCK.

no. what the fuck. are you kidding me. god no. no no no no no no no. i’m going to jump off the balcony. this is it.

of course. just my luck.

that day i confirmed my suspicions of luke being spider-man.

i also realised why i cared about it much.

fuck my life.

[huramuna]

a maid's folly - epilogue. end.

dark aemond x maid ofc

work is 18+, minors do not interact, lest ye be smited.

previous | next

word count: 2k

follow & turn on notifs at @huramuna-fics for my fic postings!

a new maid from the Vale arrives at the Red Keep during a tumultuous time and becomes ensnared in the One-Eyed prince's web.

thank you for sticking with me while i struggled to get through the epilogue. i hope it tickles the itch that chapter 8 left with you and ties up everything with a nice bow. thank you for your patience, as always.

warnings: smut, power imbalance, religious guilt, dark Aemond, canon typical misogyny, canon typical violence, Aemond being a touch starved weirdo, possessiveness, jealousy, this is going to be ANGSTY

am i dreaming of sunflowers - post malone & metro boomin, a$ap rocky, roisee

“Dracarys, Robyn.” 

“Dwa… caways.”

“No, no. Dracarys!” 

“Dwacawuys!” 

“... good enough for now, little one,” Aemond hummed, picking up the toddler with his good arm and holding him to his hip. “Now, how do we greet mother?” 

“Muña,” Robyn babbled, his chubby arms outstretched as he and Aemond approached Rosemary, who had an apron tied taut around her rounded belly. Her hands were dirtied with flour, which she pat down the front of her dress. 

“Very good, little bird!” Rosemary exclaimed, darting over to her two boys, a gentle hand laid on Aemond’s arm, to which he leaned in slightly.

“What’s for dinner, then, muña?” Aemond purred, pressing his lips to Rosemary’s neck, eliciting a giggle from her. 

“Venison stew and parsnip mash,” she responded. “‘Tis no sea bass, but it will do, shouldn’t it, husband?” 

“I suppose it will.” he responded swiftly, placing Robyn down onto the floor as they walked into the small cottage. He stretched his arm and shoulder before perusing the kitchen table. “More letters?” he asked, thumb flitting over parchment that was strewn across the table.

“... yes. She is begging for your return.” Rosemary avoided his gaze, stirring the mash that was still cooking on the stovetop. 

“I don’t understand why– I am useless to them like this.” he pulled out a chair with one arm, his only arm– the other one was amputated at the elbow, long healed and scarred over. His eye scar was speckled now with burns, the sapphire gone from his socket. He didn’t care to wear an eyepatch these days, his hair shorn short. He looked ghastly to everyone in the village besides his wife and son. He looked like his father now, how his face was sunken and the eye socket unadorned– just… there, with only one arm. When going to town, he wrapped a silken sash over the sullied side of his face, just so he wouldn’t scare the children. It was the least he could do.

“The war has been over for six moons, she says– they… they pray for you to come back to King’s Landing, Aemond.” she pointed out, taking the pot off from the heat.

“I have no dragon, I can’t fight– what use am I?” 

“You don’t have to have a use, husband– you merely need to be alive. Your mother and brother think you dead still.”

“I’m better off to them dead–”

“Don’t,” Rosemary snapped, hands on her hips. “Do not ever say that to me, or around Robyn either. I won’t have talk of that in this house.” 

Aemond bit his lip and tongue, eye lazing over the letter that was pursed between thumb and forefinger. 

Dearest Marigold,

I cannot wait to meet my nephew, he sounds like the most wondrous little boy. But we are still not able to leave the nest. The folk are in uprise at the lack of food and resources.

Mother mourns him. Brother has erected a statue in his honor.

You must convince him. We need him here. 

Please.

If you are unable to and do not return before the turn of Spring, I shall saddle up and get you all myself. 

Best,

Lady Orbweaver

His brow furrowed as he read it over and over again until his lone eye strained and watered from not blinking. “You should burn these.” 

“Aemond.”

“I don’t want to speak of it any longer.”

–

Spring had turned, the coldness of the nights bleeding into warm days as the flowered fields of the Riverlands finally began to recover from the war that had ended two years ago now. It had been two springs since Helaena promised to come visit– but she had not yet.

“Vaelaena, please don’t run so far ahead!” Rosemary called as she tottered down the wooded path towards the lake. Aemond was at her side, arm around her to steady the two of them as they walked. She was once again swollen with child, hoping for an early summer delivery date. 

Robyn was now five years old, helping his sister along the path. Vaelaena, now two, was the spitting image of her mother with wide brown eyes and wonderment at everything. 

“Okay mumma!” Vaelaena squeaked as she continued to do the opposite of what her mother asked.

“Vae, hold my hand!” Robyn smushed his fist into his sister’s, making her slow down. 

They reached the pebbled beach of the God’s Eye lake and Rosemary sat down on a flat rock. Aemond had fishing poles strapped to his back, fiddling with getting them off with only one hand. 

“Robyn, come help your father.” Aemond asked, much to his own chagrin. He hated to ask for help– especially from a five year old, but this was his life now.

Robyn took the fishing poles from Aemond and baited the hook– they had mulled around in the dirt a few hours earlier in the garden for worms. Mostly Robyn and Vaelaena, but Aemond kicked the dirt around, too.

“Now, cast it like I taught you, boy,” he sat down on the shore, knees bundled up in front of him as he watched his son cast the fishing line out into the lake. He blinked, remembering all too well when he had been bleeding out, dying on this very spot– his arm shredded to nothing but muscle and sinew, and his dragon drowning, sinking to the bottom of the lake. He had watched when they fished Vhagar’s corpse out of the lake, now nothing but a host of bones. They were looking for his body, he knew– they found Dark Sister and Caraxes, too. But they did not find Daemon’s body, nor did they find his. When he looked up at the sky above the God’s Eye, he was there again, swirling in a fight to the death against his uncle– it was suicide, it was… stupid. The despair he’d felt seeing them haul up Vhagar’s remains was immense. He was the cause of her death, a dragon who’d survived from the Conquest and beyond. Only to be brought down by an ugly bloodwyrm.  

But it had won the war, in short. Rhaenyra had surrendered after she heard of her husband’s untimely death and fled to Essos with her remaining children. Aegon and Helaena remained in the Keep and Jaehaerys was named heir. It seemed things were finally as they should be– and to them, Aemond was dead. At least, to everyone but his wife, children and sister. Helaena knew the entire time that Rosemary was alive and did not say a thing, and mayhaps Aemond was still cross about that. He had been furious at Rosemary for weeks after she saved his life. He was a terrible patient, in truth. All the while being angry at Helaena and Rosemary, he couldn’t be mad at Robyn, who aided in his recovery, the best a toddler could, of course. He didn’t even have to ask if he was his son, the boy was a spitting image of himself, of the portraits that had been done of him as a child, still hung in his mother’s rooms, he guessed. 

Rosemary and Aemond had wed shortly after he regained most mobility, about six months after he arrived in her cottage. They had paid a septon in the town in fifteen copper stars to wed them in the Sept– the Sept of the small village just being a one-room hut with a dirt floor. 

In town, they were known as Marigold Rivers and Torrhen Waters. They were nameless, just two bastards in love– and Aemond wished for it to stay that way. Despite his love being alive, his son– he couldn’t help but feel this was his punishment. To lurk in the shadows as a nameless bastard cripple while his mother and brother thought him dead. It was his punishment for starting the war, for being a Kinslayer– 

“Papa, look!” Robyn squealed, hauling up a small trout from the lake. “Papa!” 

“Good job, son,” Aemond hummed. “Bring it here, let’s see.” he gestured with his one hand as his son wrestled the tiny trout with two hands to bring it over. Despite it all, despite his despair he felt at his current state of being, he still wanted to be a good father. Better than his father was, at least. He had to be. He made every effort to be there, to teach, to nurture, to do what his own father never did. His son would never know that his father was a prince and he wouldn’t know he had the blood of the dragon in his veins– but he would be loved. 

Rosemary had Vaelaena on her lap, combing her fingers through her unruly blonde curls, wrestling them into a braid, humming a tune. Her tune was muted, suddenly, as the sound of wing flaps echoed through the air. 

Aemond’s chest bubbled in panic and elation, half expecting to see Vhagar from over the horizon. ‘Twas not Vhagar– of course.

It was a giant blue dragon– Dreamfyre. Atop her was Queen Helaena. She landed gracefully upon the pebbled beach. Robyn was frozen in fear or amazement, Aemond could not tell– Vaelaena had her face buried in her mother’s bosom, sniffling. 

Aemond rose to his feet, legs shaky like a newborn fawn’s. His sister was here, as she had promised– two years late, perhaps but… 

“Aemond!” Helaena called, trotting across the beach in her blue and black riding leathers. She looked radiant, hair windswept from the ride. Her face was plastered in the biggest, dumbest smile ever. 

“Hel…” Aemond echoed softly, trudging across the rocky terrain and meeting Helaena in the middle, wrapping his one arm around her. “Hel…”

“I’ve missed you so– my dear brother,” she sniffled. “We’ve all missed you terribly.”

“... how is mother?” 

“As well as she can be, considering the circumstances…” 

“Aegon? The twins? Maelor?” 

“All very good.” 

“... Helaena?” 

“Yes, brother?” 

“Why are you here?” 

“To ask you to come back. And I will not take no for an answer.” 

Aemond opened his mouth to speak, but saw a flash of white go past him as Robyn walked towards Dreamfyre. “Robyn, don’t!” 

Dreamfyre trilled a soft noise at the tiny human coming towards her, who stopped about three feet in front of her snout. Robyn reached out his hand, offering the fish he had just caught. The dragon looked at the little boy, letting out a huge sniff (which almost knocked over the poor boy) and opened her maw, slurping up the fish in a fell swoop. Robyn giggled and was thrilled, despite his hand now dripping in dragon slobber. He trotted back to his father, clinging to his pant leg. “Who’s this, papa?” 

“This is… your aunt. Helaena. She is my sister, just like Vaelaena is your sister.” 

“Vaelaena?” Helaena asked softly, brow perked. 

“... Mayhaps named after you and Vhagar.” 

Rosemary approached with the aforementioned toddler on her hip, already teary eyed from seeing Helaena. “Vae, this is your aunty Helaena– this is Lady Orbweaver I talked about.” 

“Lady… Owbweaber…” Vaelaena repeated, astonished. “Like in… my stories?” 

“The very same!” Helaena exclaimed. “I see that you haven’t given up your talent as a storyteller, Rosemary?” 

“Rosemary? … I thought mumma’s name was Marigold.” 

–

Fifteen years after the war between brother and sister had ended, the infamous feud dubbed by historians as the ‘Dance of the Dragons’, the realm was peaceful and quaint, still ruled by King Aegon II Targaryen, and his wife, Queen Helaena Targaryen.

By his royal decree, Aegon had bestowed the ancestral island of Dragonstone upon his brother Aemond Targaryen, who had returned five years after the war, thought to be dead after the battle over God’s Eye. 

Dragonstone is resided by the prince, Aemond Targaryen, his wife, Rosemary Targaryen, and their five children. Robyn Targaryen, Vaelaena Targaryen, Baelon Targaryen, Daehaerys Targaryen, and Mheya Targaryen, the last of whom was supposedly named for Rosemary’s late mother, who had ancestral roots in the Mountain clans of the Eyrie. 

The lamb survived the dragon– the lamb, in fact, saved the dragon.

[florencemtrash]

Hummingbird: Chapter Eight

Miguel O'Hara x Reader

What if the Earth-1610 (Miles’s universe) version of Miguel’s wife was actually Miles’s AP Art teacher?

Masterlist

Warnings: Some suggestive content and fluff

You squeezed your eyes shut against the light streaming in through the window, painting the backs of your eyelids like a sunset. You were uncharacteristically warm and comfortable in bed, but you burrowed further under the covers, rolling over and immediately hitting Miguel’s chest. You blinked in surprise. You’d grown so accustomed to the weight of his arm around your waist in the night that you’d forgotten he was there. Heat flooded your cheeks. 

You were both still very, VERY naked.

Miguel grumbled in protest when you shifted in his arms, wrapping them tighter around you and pulling you against his chest. He hummed in satisfaction, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck before he sighed and went back to sleep.

It must have been noon and you didn’t doubt this was the longest night of sleep he’d gotten in a while. You relaxed into his touch, running your fingers through his hair and hearing a soft murmur of approval slip through his lips. You were entranced by him. His breathing was a comforting, even beat, brushing across the skin of your neck so that every so often you’d shiver from the closeness of it all. You continued to bask in his warmth and the little noises of contentment that escaped from him as you traced the muscles and curves of his back, noting the rougher scar tissue beneath your fingertips and wishing you could rub them away.

Eventually he stirred awake, pressing his face against your heart and kissing you everywhere he could reach.

“Buenos días, mi amor.” He murmured softly, eyes lighting up when he saw the color once again flood your cheeks. “You’re blushing.” 

“I am not.” 

“Yes you are.”

“No, I’m n-” 

Your words were cut off with a gasp when he pressed his lips against yours, hands coming up to cup your jaw and pull you closer. Heat raced through your body, familiar and all-consuming.

“Yes you are.” He whispered into your ear. You shivered and blushed even more.

“It’s not a crime.”

Again that smile of his crossed his face. “I know. I just like to see you blush.” 

An idea popped into your brain that made you smirk. Your hands drifted lower… and lower. 

His eyes widened and he stuttered. “Y/n-”

“I like to see you blush too.” You said with a wicked smile before climbing on top of him.

_________

You collapsed on top of his chest, both of you gasping to catch your breaths. 

What time was it now? Three o’clock? Four? You didn’t care. You were sweaty and spent and ready to go back to sleep, even if that meant you would have done nothing productive that day. Well… that was a lie. You’d done many things… many times.

“I like the bed better than the kitchen floor.” Miguel said in between deep breaths, hands still gripping your hips like a lifeline.

Your eyes widened and you couldn’t help it. You burst out laughing, burying your face into his shoulder.

“Oh god. We really did it on the kitchen floor last night.” 

You didn’t even want to think about the mess you’d have to clean up later - both in your bedroom and in the kitchen. The sheets alone were a mess. 

Miguel was grinning from ear to ear. “We did it on the kitchen floor.”

“Stop!” You slapped his chest, trying to suppress your smile, “You don’t have to remind me. I was there.”

“I never said it was bad. I just like the bed better.” He smirked, “It’s bouncier.”

“Oh my goodness, shut up!” 

He was shaking with laughter beneath you. “Make me.” He dared.

You pursed your lips, suppressing the desire to blush and laugh once again. Miguel was alight with happiness, wiggling his eyebrows at you and daring you to take him up on his offer. 

You shook your head. “I-” You poked him in the chest, wrapping the sheets around you and blinking to the bathroom door. “Am going to take a shower.” 

Miguel shouted in disappointment, throwing his hands up in protest now that he was lying in bed completely exposed. But he immediately shut himself up when you threw him a sultry look and asked, “Care to join me?”

He was by your side so quickly you wondered if he had suddenly gained teleportation abilities of his own. You yelped, slapping your hands over your mouth in surprise when he scooped you up in his arms.

“Always.” He said, smiling as he carried you over to the shower. When he saw that it came with a built-in bench seat his smile turned into a wicked grin. “Nice shower.”

_________

“Do you think they-”

“Oh absolutely.” 

“Without a doubt.”

“Seriously, like-”

“I’m so happy for them! We’re going to have more spider-babies!” 

“Pavitr, what the fuck?”

“That’s really what you’ve been thinking about?”

“Whaaaaat, I’m a romantic.”

“Ok but like actually. You think-”

“Yes.”

“I saw her moving her things in.” 

“Do you think they’d adopt m-”

You coughed. Loudly.

Peter B., Gwen, Pavitr, and Miles spun around, looking at you like deer caught in headlights. 

“Heeyyyyyyyyy, Ms. Y/n! We were just talking about you.” Pavitr said, waving enthusiastically.

“I can see that,” You said, arching your brow and folding your arms over your chest. 

Pavitr barrelled through, missing your sarcasm.

“How are you and Miguel? How’s the move-in going? I’m assuming you made it official and everything, but Miguel hasn’t told us anything and I know you’ve been swamped with work but-” 

“Pavitr-”

“And switching universes must be a lot of work, but I’m dying to know all the details. Like have you guys gone on a date yet? Oooooh there’s this fantastic restaurant on 65th and Roover with the best malai kofta,” He gasped, “Oh my god are you guys getting married! Are you going to have kids soon?”

“Whoa, wait a second-”

“CAN I BE PART OF THE WEDDING?!”

“Pavitr!” You clamped your hands down on his shoulders. He was practically vibrating with excitement. “We are not getting married and yes we’ve gone on a date. Not that that’s any of your business.”

“Bullshit!” Peter booed, cupping his hands around his mouth. Miles and Gwen joined him.

“Language!”

“Bullllllllshiiitttttttttt.” 

“Peter!” “Whaaat?” He threw his hands up in surrender, “It is absolutely our business knowing what you freaky spiders are getting up to.”  

Your face turned brick red and Peter’s face lit up even more when he caught sight of Miguel lumbering up behind you, two cups of coffee in his hands.

“Miguel!” 

Miguel handed you your mug before he wrapped a casual arm around your waist like it belonged there, and without even realizing it, you leaned into his touch. Gwen and Miles shot each other a look as Pavitr once again began to vibrate like a chihuahua on Cuban coffee.

“Enjoying yourselves?” Miguel asked, pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead - an action that made you blink in surprise. He had never come across as a kissing-in-public type, but just then he’d kissed you like it was as natural as breathing.

“Not as much as you two are enjoying each other.” 

Everyone groaned at Peter’s terrible joke, but he paid no mind. Mayday was home, so he would let loose. 

Miguel’s arm never left your side, even as Peter kept dropping half-veiled, dirty jokes all throughout lunch. You were surprised Miguel stayed as long as he did, letting you steal fries off his tray as he chatted with Peter. 

The spiderlings - the affectionate nickname you had for any Spider-person under 21 - listened with rapt attention, chiming in with their more than occasional thoughts and comments. Conversation ebbed and flowed around the table, the ruckus growing when Penny and Spider-Noir joined in later. Both were equally surprised to see their normally stoic and ill-tempered leader begrudgingly settle a debate between Miles, Gwen, and Pavitr on the physics of bread falling butter-side down. 

Peter couldn’t help the grin that remained plastered to his face. Miguel looked at ease, stealing glances and sending soft smiles your way as you played Cat’s Cradle with Penny’s robot and marveled at the little chirping sounds it made. 

He was cracking jokes - small ones, but more than Peter had heard in years. He couldn’t be happier for you two… and selfishly he and MJ wanted another married couple to go to wine tastings with. 

“You know, you never said thank you.” Peter said slyly to Miguel, leaning over the table and giving him a wink, “Now, now I’m willing to forgive you because emotions were high and you had other things going on, but I still think-”

“Thank you, Pete.” Miguel said, laying his hand on Peter’s shoulder. 

Peter drew back in surprise. Miguel hadn’t used that nickname in years. He was still smiling, briefly looking over at you as you continued your conversation with Miles. His gaze softened and he absentmindedly rubbed your hip bone with his thumb, just to remind himself that you were real and sitting next to him. 

“Truly. Thank you. For everything.” 

Peter swallowed thickly, not expecting the wave of emotion that hit him like a truck. He wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but seeing his best friend spiral out of control after losing his family had broken something inside him, something that was only just starting to mend itself.

He coughed in his hand, using the opportunity to wipe his eyes, “Yeah well it was nothing.”

“It wasn’t nothing. Not to me.”

Peter sniffed, “Ok stop it. I can’t handle you when you’re being gushy and emotional.”

Miguel smirked, “I’m being emotional.”

“Shut up.” 

Miguel snorted, taking a deep drink of his coffee. Peter looked at him carefully.

“I better be the Best Man at your wedding.” Peter said, sniffing again. 

Miguel raised his eyebrows, “Who else would it be?” 

“Yeah you’re right. You don’t have any other friends.”

“Damn. Ouch.” 

“...Sorry.” 

Miguel tipped his head back and laughed, a deep rumbling sound that grabbed everyone’s attention. After a brief moment’s pause, Peter did too.

_________

“So… I guess they all know now.” You said. You sat on the bathroom countertop, face clean and teeth brushed as you waited for Miguel to finish his nightly routine. He patted his face dry, and you wanted to bury yourself in the crisp scent of his aftershave.

“Is that alright?” Miguel asked, slotting himself between your legs and gently kissing your chest. 

You smiled, thumbs tracing over his smooth, freshly shaved skin. His hair curled tightly around the nape of his neck where it was still wet and you twirled it between your fingers, watching the dark strands spring back. He melted into your hands like putty.

“Yeah.” You said, “That’s perfectly alright with me.” Miguel smiled back, “Good.” He whispered against your lips before capturing your mouth in a kiss. He tasted like toothpaste.

“Bed?” He murmured, catching the slump of your shoulders and the tiredness in your eyes.

You sighed in relief, “God, yes.” 

Without warning he scooped you up in his arms and carried you to your shared bed. You suspected it was something you’d have to get used to now that you would be living in Nueva York with him. 

With him.

The thought made you giddy inside. 

Miguel slid into bed beside you, one arm snaking around your waist and pulling you flush against him. You could feel his solid chest against your back moving with the rhythm of his breaths. He sighed in contentment, burying his face in the crook of your neck and breathing you in. You still smelled like your shampoo.

You kissed the palm of his hand before cradling it close to your heart. 

“Mi vida,” Miguel murmured, his voice laced with drowsiness. You pulled yourself from the brink of sleep and hummed in response. 

“Thank you.” He said quietly.

“For what?”

Miguel pressed a gentle, reverent kiss against your neck, “For staying with me. For saving me.” 

Your lips curled up in a faint smile. Two years ago you never would have imagined this kind of life for yourself - a life of adventure with superpowers and Miguel. You’d both come a long way since that night when he’d saved you from the super collider. But even then, you’d known that he was someone safe… that he was your home. 

There were an infinite number of rules to the multiverse that neither of you understood. But you had a feeling you were always meant to find each other. One way or another. 

This version of Miguel and this version of you. 

Together. Across time and space. Always.

“You’ll save me and I’ll save you. That’s what we’ve always done and that’s what we’ll continue to do.” 

You didn’t see him smile, but you felt it.

“I like the sound of that.” Miguel whispered.

“Me too.” 

“I love you.” 

“I love you.” 

He waited until your breathing evened out, finding peace in the quiet sighs escaping your lips, before he let himself fall asleep. And for the third night in a row since you’d moved in with him, he enjoyed a deep and dreamless sleep. One of many more to come with you by his side.

<- Previous Chapter

_________

Author's note:

I have learned that I am kind of shit at writing endings (hence why this chapter took me so long to post...oh well).

Thank you all SO FREAKING MUCH for reading. I hope you enjoyed it and I hope I was able to do these characters justice.

Finally, thanks for sticking with me through all the chaotic updates. I still feel like I have more to write with these characters and I love them all so much, but a story has to end somehow.

So here we are, folks. At the end.

Love,

Florence B.

Taglist: @geraskier-thotsthots @howabouticallyou @sweetheartlizzie07 @dont-mind-me27@omg-edzia-stuff @sarcastically-defensive17 @trouble-sistar @saltyluminaryvoid @lunablue001 @sadslasher13 @yas-v @thel0v3hashira143 @trishuh8 @vague-flying-shape @tiana76 @dinuxia-bhm @mxtokko @devilsrose666 @natbratty @zettoaizawa-shusband @dorck26 @notasadgirlipromise @niyanispunk @thecraziestcrayon @athenxt @imnotyourbcbe @jannajuju @lunamoonbby @elle-19 @aces148 @sseleniaa @elaineiswithyou-blog @summerli-u @rattlethemskulls @sunseekerlove @bubbabobabubbles @loonalockley @aleombre @littlelilies @07-bilin @nerdalicios @insanely-creative-things @enby-rising @nataliahemsworth @coralineyouareinterribledanger @louderfortheback @damnzelsoul @enheduannasposts @bontensbabygirl @mynameiswilliamblake @hyperfixationwho @corpsebridenightamare @mikeys-thighs @skulfan1 @the-falling-avenger @cyberillusion-li

[a-boca-do-inferno]

not an ape (caesar x human!reader)

summary: Caesar has had enough of your transgressions.

warnings: angst, swearing, slight fluff

words: 1.5k

notes: could be read as a continuation to alone and medicine. enjoy xx.

gif credit

Caesar eyed you up and down and you shrank slightly in reflex, looking at the ground. You had wandered off by yourself in the woods yet again and he seemed really mad. He couldn’t even speak to you in his rage, his glare burning holes into your skin whilst his nostrils expanded in a steady rhythm. His stern expression remained unchanged as he crossed his thick arms, standing tall and dominant. Still silent, he nodded his head for you to follow him as he started walking further into the forest.

You gulped and followed the king, even though you felt your own annoyance boiling inside at the thought of being about to get chastised, similar to a rebellious teenager. His bulky frame strolled in front of you and his steps were heavy on the floor, stomping against branches and breaking them without the bat of an eye. You grunted softly in frustration, then suddenly you both stopped moving. Caesar turned to face you with an unreadable look. The fury in his green orbs had somewhat subdued, but he still appeared displeased by your misbehaviour. He pointed to a nearby log and motioned for you to take a seat. You obeyed him in silence, lips tightly pursed.

Caesar stood in front of you, observing you carefully. He studies your face, the way you sit, the way you keep avoiding his looks, and growls, “explain.”

You almost roll your eyes at the order. “Not an ape.” You sign quickly and clearly irritated, finally staring at him directly. At the immediate puff of his chest, you wince briefly, but you don’t back away. “Can take care of myself. Not dumb.”

The ape was unimpressed at your defiance, having witnessed it and experienced it toward himself a couple times before. Today was different, though; it just wasn’t like you to be so foolish, to go hunting on your own without warning anyone. Caesar unfolded his muscular arms, letting them hang by his sides as he nodded slowly through your words. He huffed and took a step closer, his gaze intense. 

The king signs, his movements deliberate and commanding. “You take care of yourself.” He concedes gruffly, his gravelly voice echoing through the quiet forest. “Then why keep wandering off alone... like a fool?”

You scoff and turn your face away, grumbling, “I’m not a child.” 

Caesar’s eyes darkened at your insolent tone. He grabbed your chin, forcing you to look straight at him, his grip firm yet gentle enough not to hurt you. He leans in, his face mere inches away from yours. “You act like one!” He gestures sharply. “No thinking, no planning, no understanding consequences. Just... reckless.”

You try to escape his hold, but he’s much stronger. You move your hands swiftly, pointing to his furry chest, “you don’t rule over me!”

The ape held your wrists in place, preventing you from signing further. He leaned even closer, his large form towering over yours. His eyes flash with ire as he snarls, “think you smart, do you? Always know better than everyone.” 

You stayed silent for a brief moment. It was true that you got into trouble every now and then, however you always had your own way of working things out. He was just being unfair. “Why did you take me in then? Why not just leave me alone? I was just fine by myself!” You protest, so lost in your own anger you didn’t even care Caesar could easily kill you with his bare hands if he wanted.

He loosened his hold on you faintly, but didn’t let go. He glanced at you for a moment, his features conflicted. “Found you injured... weak.” He pauses, searching for the right words. “Couldn’t leave you... alone. Needed protection.”

“I can protect myself.” You hiss and glare at Caesar, pushing him. “What? Aren’t you big, bad ape? C’mon!”

Caesar’s annoyance only grows at your continuous challenge. “You think you strong? Able to protect yourself?” He lets go of your hands and backs away, his chest rising and falling with his heavy breaths. He glowers at you, his emerald irises burning. “Prove it.” He huffs once more, his muscles tense. You lunged at him without warning, hitting his chest with all your force. Despite your random attack, he didn’t stumble back. He raised an eyebrow mockingly and you kept punching him with all your might, his firm figure not even flinching at your efforts. You finally grew tired and shrieked in irritation, attempting to pull away from him. His arms tightened around you considerably. “Finished?”

Staring into his piercing gaze, you can only grunt, “you piss me off.” And albeit you were still pretty angry, your voice felt like a whisper in his ears. You took a seat on the log behind you, fixating your eyes on the ground. 

Caesar mimicked your actions and signed, “why keep going off on your own? You know it’s dangerous.” His gestures are careful now.

You don’t look at him. “I’m used to being alone.”

The ape king tilts his head. “Not about what you’re used to. About what it’s safe.” He pauses, gauging your reaction before continuing, “you may have survived before, but that doesn’t mean… you should keep taking needless risks.”

“It wasn’t needless. I was hunting.”

“It’s needless when you can get hurt… or worse.” Caesar mumbles, frowning a bit. “And why go alone? There are safer ways to hunt.” He signs softly at the end, trying desperately to make you see reason.

“With Koba, you mean? Might as well just kill myself and call it a day.” You laugh humourlessly. 

Caesar shoots back, “Koba… not the only one who can help you. You just… too stubborn to ask.”

“I'm not exactly a celebrity in the ape colony. More like black sheep.” You murmur with a lower tone, finding his emerald eyes. “You never ask for help either.”

The ape meets your gaze, his jaw clenching. He knows you’re right. He’s always been independent, preferring to handle things on his own. After a beat, Caesar signs begrudgingly as he admits, “maybe I don’t ask for help. Fine. But I know when to take calculated risks... unlike you.”

“You win a few times in chess and think you’re Einstein of the apes.” You tease, your anger gradually fading. “Unbelievable.”

Caesar’s rough exterior softens at the playful jab. He can’t help but chuckle, “you just… a sore loser.”

“Maybe. I’m also a damn good hunter and you scared my deer away.” 

His lightheartedness is replaced by dissatisfaction again. His signing is sharp, “so? Rather scare away your deer… than have you get hurt chasing it by yourself.”

“How the hell is a deer gonna hurt me? You have got to be kidding, Caesar.” You scowl impatiently. “I might not be strong like an ape, but I’m not some defenceless puppy either. Fuck off.”

“I never said that.” Caesar hisses, his own scowl deepening too. “But you’re not… invincible. What if you encountered something… stronger than a deer? What would you do then?” 

“Kick its ass. Like I always do.” You stand back up to try and finish the conversation.

The king’s not having it and grabs your arm, gently but firmly, making you sit back down next to him. “Can’t always kick ass.” He breathes out, soothingly. “Sometimes you have to know... when to stand down.”

You let out another heavy sigh, not wanting to fight anymore. “You should follow what you preach, buddy.” You pat his chest in a somewhat chastising manner. 

It’s his time to roll his eyes, a small smile playing at his rough lips. “Stubborn as a mule.” 

“I’m sorry, okay?” You blurt out after a second, your voice reluctant yet sincere. “I’ll ask for your help next time. If I feel like it.” You shrug.

Caesar lets out a low grunt, searching your face for any hints of insincerity and finding none. “Good. But promise me… you won���t go wandering off alone again. At least... not without someone knowing where you’re going.”

“Mmm. I’ll think about it.” You mutter with a smug look.

Caesar grumbles at your cheeky response, shaking his head in feigned disappointment. “So damn… stubborn.” He reaches out slowly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering on your skin for a moment longer than necessary. 

“You treat me like I’m weak, you know?” You hum, nuzzling into his palm in a silent act of submission he knows too well. “I’m not.”

The ape king holds back a primal sound rumbled deep in his throat, fighting the urge to pull you even closer. He coos, with a ghostly smirk, “not weak. Just… small.” 

“I hate you.” You push him lightly, yet your words are filled with affection. You can see his fur standing on end at your actions and it makes you grin wider. “Someone’s sensitive today, huh?”

He signs, his voice barely above a husky whisper, “shut up.”

You lean in and rest your hands on his broad shoulders, your look turning a bit more sly. “And what if I don’t?”

Caesar’s heart beats faster, your touch burning him like a brand. His green eyes narrow as he watches you intently, his breathing growing shallow. He lifts his palm to your cheek, tracing his rough knuckles against your smooth complexion. “Keep teasing... and you might find out.”

You hum and bring his forehead to yours. You kiss his face slowly, your body becoming warm at the sound of his quiet, happy hoot. You cannot hold back a teasing smile, “who’s the puppy now?”

Caesar laughs.

[arcane-vagabond]

Sleeping With the Fishes

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Reader

Summary: From a young age, the animal kingdom had fascinated you, and maybe that's why you chose to pursue that passion. You quickly became a force within the field, becoming the leading expert on ape social structures, which is how you found yourself on an expedition into the African jungles searching for a troop of gorillas. What you weren't expecting, however, was to run into the local wild man on one of your excursions... (Tarzan!AU)

Trigger Warnings: Language, Dead animals, Injury to self, Reader is a bit of an idiot, Baboons, Bradley not understanding boundaries, The boys make fun of Boots. I think that's it.

Word Count: 3.2k

A/N: He's finally here! What do you guys think?? This blog is 18+ ONLY! As always, reblogs and comments are welcomed and encouraged!! Find me on AO3 under arcane_vagabondwhere all of my stories and drabbles are posted!

Series Masterlist || Moodboard 1 || Moodboard 2 || Moodboard 3

You woke up to the sound of yelling coming from the boys’ tent. You scrambled out of the sheets, barely pulling on a pair of shorts over your underwear before running out of the tent and towards the camp. All three men were standing outside the tent, looking uneasily at each other.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, a little out of breath from your run. “What happened?”

“Well,” Bob started, glancing over at Jake as the blond ran a hand through his hair.

“Wild man left a goddamn fish in my bed,” he snapped, glaring disdainfully into the tent.

“He what?” You questioned, pushing past them to look in through the opening. Sure enough, a large, bloody fish sat atop the usually pristine sheets. You grimaced, backing up to stand with the others. “What kind of fish is that?”

“What?” Jake hollered, looking at you incredulously. “Who gives a shit? There’s a fish in my bed, Boots!”

“Do you think he’s threatening you?” Javy asked thoughtfully, stroking the length of his jaw as he eyed the fish. Jake turned to look at him, a surprised look on his face as if the thought only just crossed his mind. He looked back at the fish with pursed lips.

“Bradley isn’t like that,” Bob assured, placing a gentle hand on Jake’s shoulder. “I’m sure it’s just a misunderstanding.”

“There’s a fish in my bed,” Jake gritted out, waving wildly towards the tent. You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms in front of your chest.

“Quit being such a baby about your gift,” you scowled. Jake began to splutter, face going red as he fought to form a coherent thought. At that same moment Ice and Maverick came walking up from where they had been fixing dinner.

“What’s going on?” Maverick asked, glancing around at your little group. Jake pointed a finger into the tent, taking deep breaths in through his nose and out through his mouth as he pinched the bridge of his nose. The two older men pushed past you and Javy to peer into the tent, their eyebrows shooting up their foreheads at the sight.

“Huh,” Maverick laughed out. “He must have seen you working with the plants this past week.”

Jake stared at him for a second, blinking slowly as he processed what the brunette just said.

“Pardon?”

“He sees me growing some of the food here,” Maverick explained, gesturing towards the small patch of land he had set aside to grow some vegetables for the camp. “I use fish from the river to help fertilize the crops. He helps me with it sometimes, in fact. He must have thought you’d want some fish to help with your research.”

“Oh, that’s so sweet,” you sighed. Jake stared at you, an unreadable expression that slowly morphed into one of distraught.

“But,” he murmured, waving uselessly back at the fish, “my bed? Why?”

“Now that is a bit of a mystery, I’ll admit,” Maverick hummed, staring confusedly at the bed. Ice rolled his eyes.

“Is it though?” He muttered, giving you a knowing look. You shifted uncomfortably. Surely he wasn’t implying…

“Boots, we’re going to have to take a raincheck on going down to the waterfall,” Jake sighed, looking at you now.

“What?” You frowned. “No way! It won’t take you that long to clean up! We can just go after!”

“This is going to take me forever to clean up,” he argued, shaking his head. “No, we’ll just go tomorrow or something.”

“Jake, if I have to spend one more day in this godforsaken camp, I’m going to lose my mind,” you scowled. “I’ll just go on ahead and you can meet me when you’re finished. How does that sound?”

“It sounds like a terrible idea,” he frowned. “The jungle is dangerous, Boots. God only knows what’s out there waiting to snatch you up.”

“You’re being ridiculous,” you snapped, glaring at him. “I’m just as capable as the rest of you. I can take care of myself. Javy, tell him.”

Javy sucked in a breath, eyes darting between the two of you as you waited for him to say something.

“I don’t know if I feel comfortable getting in the middle-”

“Useless,” you hissed, turning back to Jake. “Jake Seresin, I am a capable woman who can take care of herself. I’ve done this plenty of times before when you aren’t here to infantilize me.”

He mulled over your words, glancing at the others before sighing.

“Fine,” he relented, “but don’t go too far, okay? I’ll join you when I’m finished with this. Hopefully, it won’t take me too long.”

You smiled in victory, turning to head back to your tent and get ready. It didn’t take you long, just changing into a fresh set of clothes and filling up your canteen with water before grabbing your backpack. You were just about to leave camp and head towards the falls when Maverick stopped you.

“I packed you some lunch,” he said, handing you an old container. You took it from him, smiling gratefully as you shoved it into your backpack.

“I’m guessing there’s something else you wanted to say to me?” You asked, earning a chuckle.

“Just,” he hesitated, shoving his hands in his pockets as he gazed into the jungle, “be careful. I didn’t want to say anything in front of Jake, but Bob and I spotted a leopard by the river not too long ago. It’s possible it’s moved out of the area, but I wanted to let you know just in case. Just stay vigilant.”

“Yeah, I will,” you smiled, readjusting the strap on your shoulder.

“I’m sure Bradley will be keeping an eye on you too,” he added. “You should be fine.”

“Thanks, Mav,” you nodded, turning and heading into the jungle before you.

The sun shone brightly, some of the rays penetrating through the canopy above. It was strange being out in the wilderness by yourself, the strange new noises keeping you slightly on edge as you continued to trek through the leaves. You took another swig from your canteen, the cool liquid easing the unsettling warmness that surrounded you. You tried in vain to wipe away the sweat accumulating on your forehead, letting out a frustrated sigh and grunt of disgust when you just ended up smearing more sweat onto your face. You shoved the canteen back into your pack, stopping when you heard a chattering sound coming from up above.

You looked skyward, seeing a couple of baboons racing along the trees. You grabbed blindly for your notebook, eager to jot down some notes and sketches of the creatures for Ice and Bob to go over when you returned. You trotted after them, now digging in your bag for a pen as you continued after them. The baboons noticed you, chattering at each other loudly as they took you in. Seeming to taunt you, they waved their arms at you, tilting their heads as if to say “can’t catch me.” You huffed out a chuckle, twisting and turning through the trees as you chased them. You were so caught up in trying to jot down some notes that you didn’t notice the dip in the ground or the tree root that arched out of the dirt beneath you. You fell with a panicked yelp, hitting your head on another one of the large roots, the world going dark around you.

You weren’t sure how long you had been out, probably not too long since the sun still beat down through the canopy. You touched the sore spot on your head, wincing at the slight sting, but sighing with relief when you checked your fingers and found no blood.

The baboons were still shrieking and chattering above you, almost as if they were laughing at your unfortunate predicament, and you cast an errant glare upwards at them. Damn monkeys.

An ache rippled up your leg from your ankle, and you bit your lip as you shuffled back to lean against one of the trees, hoping against all odds that you hadn’t done anything too bad to it.

Your head pounded, a wave of dizziness running through you that was most certainly not helped by the intense humidity and heat of the jungle. You let out a groan as you experimentally moved your ankle, hissing when a jolt of pain ran up your leg. Yeah, definitely sprained. You huffed out a sigh, leaning your head against the trunk of the tree.

The cacophony of noises did little to ease your aching head, and you wished you had waited for Jake to finish cleaning his bed like he had insisted. Now you were stuck out in the jungle, hoping and praying someone would find you before something else did.

You groaned at the thought of what Jake would say if he could see you now. That smarmy look he’d give you as he looked you over. The “I told you so” that would follow. You would never hear the end of it, but a chilling thought ran through you. The guys had to find you before Jake could be his insufferable self, and as far as they knew, you would be down by the waterfall. How far away were you? You scolded yourself for straying away from the trail markers that had been laid out. How was anyone supposed to find you now? You sniffled, biting back the tears that threatened to spill over.

You checked your canteen, grimacing at the sound of the half empty container. Setting it down with a thud you gazed at the canopy above, wiping the sweat from your brow. It could be hours before someone realized you were missing. You hoped sooner.

Another wave of emotion rushed over you, and this time you allowed yourself to let a few tears slip down your cheeks. How could you be so foolish?

The sound of rustling foliage drew your attention across the small clearing, your heart rate picking up at the sound. Your thoughts raced back to what Maverick had told you before you left the camp. Bob and I spotted a leopard by the river not too long ago. Inwardly groaning, you lamented about your situation, hoping that whatever was hiding in the foliage wasn’t a giant cat. You stayed as still as possible, praying for whatever it was to continue on. From the sounds of it, whatever it was, was huge, and it was getting closer.

You gripped your canteen in your hand, ready to throw it at whatever came out of the dense leaves. It wouldn’t do any lasting damage, but perhaps it would daze the creature long enough for you to scramble away and towards help. Surely Jake was done by now? How long had you been out here?

You bit back a shriek as the leaves parted to reveal...a man?

He was tall—huge really, and so unfairly handsome. Tanned skin stretched across bulging muscles, caramel brown hair curling at the top of his head. It was his eyes though, that captured your attention. Deep, mesmerizing honey-colored eyes that stared at you intensely, as if trying to make sense of you.

"Who the hell are you?" You asked, voice tight as he crouched down, inching closer to you with slow moments. "Where did you come from?"

He didn't answer as he crept closer, his movements almost like that of the apes you observed during your travels. His hand reached towards you, his knuckles brushing against the tips of your fingers. You jerked your hand back, regarding him wearily.

"Human?" He asked, cocking his head to the side.

"Me?" You spluttered, feeling heat rise to your cheeks. "Of course I'm a human! What did you think I was?"

His eyes narrowed at you, his lips pressing into a thin line as he seemed to consider you.

"Not like any human I have seen," he spoke, his English seemingly broken. "What kind?"

It took you a second to figure out what he was asking you.

"I'm a woman," you told him, a sense of unease filling you. Was this the man that Ice and Mav had told you about? What was his name again? Bradley, right?

“Seen you at the camp,” he continued, watching you for a moment. “Smell good.”

Your cheeks warmed even further at the comment, and you cleared your throat before shifting where you sat, wincing as the movement jostled your ankle. Bradley glanced down at the swollen appendage, frowning at the redness that seeped to the surface.

“Hurt?” He asked, leaning forward, his face so close to yours. You swallowed thickly, eyes roving over his face and hesitating on his lips. The facial hair that sat atop it wasn’t a bad look on him, quite the contrary actually, and for a second you wondered what it would be like to feel it on the skin of your thighs as he-

You blinked rapidly, trying desperately to clear the depraved thoughts from your head. You chalked it up to the combination of the African heat and the fact you hadn’t been laid in God only knows how long. You cleared your throat and briefly met his gaze before looking away.

“Yes,” you answered him, cursing at the shakiness of your voice. “I think I hurt my ankle when I fell. Do you think you could go back to the camp and tell the others where I am?”

Bradley frowned at you before shaking his head.

“Boots hurt,” he rumbled. “Can’t leave here.”

“Then how do you expect the others to—hey!”

You yelped when Bradley slid one large hand under your knees, the other coming up to rest on your back as he lifted you off the ground. You scrambled to find purchase, finally wrapping your arms around his neck, eyes widening when he turned to look at you, face so close, your noses were practically touching. You tried desperately not to think of the hard curves of muscle you were being held against, willing yourself to think about anything else.

“This is,” you began, swallowing thickly as you stared into his eyes, “this is not the most practical way of doing this.”

He stared at you for a moment, blinking at you in confusion.

“Practical?”

“You know,” you mumbled, tearing your eyes away from him, “the best way to do this.”

He frowned at that, giving you a challenging look as his grip on you tightened. You gasped as he held you closer, a spark of mischief in his eyes.

“Can you walk?”

“What?” You blinked. He chuckled, bringing his face even closer to yours which was not helping you form a coherent sentence.

“Can you walk?” He repeated, the corners of his lips tugging up just a hair. You processed his question, scowling at him once you realized he was messing with you.

“No,” you huffed, meeting his gaze with a glare. He gave you a smirk as he turned and started walking through the jungle.

“You don’t have to be so smug, you know,” you grumbled, relaxing a little when you felt confident that he wouldn’t drop you. He hummed, the smirk still painted on his face as he continued on.

“So you know what smug means, but not practical?” You groused. Bradley spared you a look before turning his attention back to where he was walking.

“Ice calls Maverick smug,” he supplied. You hummed, but didn’t say anything else as the two of you carried on.

“Boots?” Bob asked as you and Bradley appeared from the jungle. He was standing by the fire pit, a confused look on his face as if he couldn’t quite figure out what it was he was looking at. Jake and Javy glanced up at the sound of your name, the blond scrambling to his feet when he saw you in the arms of the wild man.

“What happened?” He asked, crossing the distance to come stand beside you. Bradley let out what could only be described as a growl as he swung you away, fixing Jake with a glare. Jake gaped at him, jaw slack. “What the hell-”

“Bradley?”

All of you turned to see Ice and Maverick walking up from the other side of the camp, looks of concern as they glanced between you and the man whose arms you were still currently in.

“I, uh,” you stammered, glancing around at everyone. “I fell.”

“You fell?” Jake asked accusingly, already eyeing your swollen ankle.

“I was following some baboons,” you admitted, refusing to meet his gaze. You could already feel the accusatory look he was giving you. “I was taking notes, and I tripped over some tree roots. Bradley found me and brought me back here.”

“You were supposed to go straight to the river,” Jake accused.

“Yeah, I know.”

“You strayed off the path, didn’t you?”

“Jake-”

“Dammit, Boots,” he growled, running a hand over his face. “You could have been seriously hurt!”

“Speaking of,” Ice interrupted, moving forward to examine your ankle. “Let’s get you looked at. Bradley, would you mind setting her over here?”

Bradley looked over at the bench that Ice gestured to, pausing for a moment before walking over. He plopped down, situating you on his lap, his arms still wrapped around your middle. You let out an indignant squeak, glaring when both Javy, Jake, and Bob snickered, trying to cover them up with coughs.

“Looks like wild man is already attached,” Javy quipped, earning another glare.

“Why don’t you come over here and say that,” you snapped, feeling the heat on your cheeks grow even warmer. Ice looked like he was struggling not to laugh as he crouched in front of you, and you just barely caught the smirk that Maverick had on his face. You winced as Ice began his examination, biting your lip from the pain. You felt Bradley’s arms tighten around you, and you gripped onto his arm a little tighter to keep from crying out at the red hot spike of pain that shot up from your ankle.

“Looks like you sprained it,” Ice finally announced. You let out a groan, leaning back into Bradley as you rolled your eyes.

“Just my luck,” you grumbled. “How long am I stuck here for?”

“I’d say at least four,” he surmised. “Maybe six if you don’t keep off of it.”

“Looks like wild man will just have to carry her around everywhere,” Javy snickered, Bob and Jake joining in with him.

“Would you be quiet?” You growled. “This is going to be a nightmare!”

“Serves you right,” Jake smirked, that smarmy look you hated already on his face. “You should have waited for me.”

“I hate you,” you mumbled, crossing your arms with a huff. Ice chuckled, moving to stand.

“Bradley, would you mind bringing Boots to the medical tent for me? I should have a bandage for her to wear.”

You scrambled once again as Bradley lifted you, clinging to his shoulders as he began to walk after Ice across the camp. The three boys were barely holding in their laughter as they watched you, breaking out into fits of giggles as you flipped them off.

Bradley was none the wiser as he held you, his hold gentle as he took care to not jostle you too much. You supposed the next couple of weeks wouldn’t be so bad.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Detour 7

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Thor

Summary: You find yourself stranded in a small village.

Part of the Backwoods AU

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You return to the hotel now less agitated than when you left. The longer you’re stranded in this sleepy village, the more exasperated you grow. You just don’t understand. You took every measure to make sure your vacation is perfect and you were sidelined by a damned axel. You will be having a long conversation with the man who did your oil back in the city. Empty promises are not good business. 

As you cross the lobby, you slow and peer around. That chirpy woman isn’t behind the counter. The place is almost desolate. You shrug and carry on up the stairs. Wouldn’t that be amusing if that oaf’s party turned out to be a bust? Who in their right minds would put so much energy into spending a single moment with the brute? 

Housekeeping has tended to your room. Fresh linens and even a new bottle of wine. You suppose that might be another pitiful attempt to lure you down to kickoff of Thor’s midlife crisis. You ignore it and focus on what you can enjoy. There isn’t much for you there but a hot bath sounds wonderful. 

You take your time, undressing, stretching, sifting through hotel samples. They smell of artificial rose. A pre-packaged migraine. You retrieve your toiletry bag as the tub fills slowly.  

As you sink into the steam pool, the first sign of trouble sounds from below. The blaring hum of bass thrums through the floor. You sigh as the contents of the bath shelf rattle. Great, so much for relaxation. That’s all you want after the last few days. You’ve been wound tight by that ox of a man and this boorish place; not too mention that fool who interrupted your coffee in town. This village breeds inanity. 

Your obstinacy keeps you submerged, just until the water grows cold. Still, you are tense and irritated, annoyed by even the sound of your own breath. You release the stopper and climb out, drying off with the plush towel. At least the amenities are acceptable. 

You hang the towel and wrap yourself in the rope. The hotel’s wireless should do for an episode or two of your weekly indulgence. You’ve a backlog to catch up after the last few weeks of tireless work and preparations.  

It would be a shame to put the wine to waste. You uncork the bottle and pour a glass. You set up your phone on the bed, propping it up with your purse and recline against the fluffed pillows with the rose. The subtitles are much too small on the screen to accommodate for the constant haze of noise from below. 

You give up, frustrated at straining to track the arguments of spoiled wives and eccentric widows, and turn off the show. Something to look forward to. Later. You put the phone face down on the night table and empty the glass. 

You rise to replenish the crystal and sift out the single book your brought along as Plan B. You never know when you might be bored out of your mind but you hard think the novel will withstand this monotony. You resume your laze in bed, this time with pages beneath your thumbs, and furrow your brow at the prose. 

Barely a few pages before you are once more torn from any semblance of content. You growl and slam the book shut. The music is louder now. Oh, that overgrown ape must be living it up. You can’t help but think it’s purposeful. He know he has guests, rather a guest, and yet he carries on so. 

Well, he will not get to you. You will not give him the pleasure of disturbing you. Not any further than he already has. 

You shove the book aside and grab a pillow. You are rather tired, as it were. You will need rest for tomorrow when you march down to the mechanic’s shop and demand that he fixes your car. At once. You cannot bear another day of this hole. 

You squeeze your eyes shut and smirk at the fantasy of your unbreakable will. Like a conquering warrior, you will not be beat back this time. You must escape from this place before you snap. A whole vacation planned on the premise of letting go and you are more stressed than ever. It is that cruel irony which has followed you through much of your existence. 

You manage to reach that foggy state right before the drop off. In a moment it dissipates. There’s a clamour in the hall and the high-pitch of a giggle, then another, followed by a booming thunder. Ugh, absolutely ridiculous. It sounds as if it’s right outside your very door. 

You toss the pillow away from your head as your temper razes through you. That’s it. You’re done being the better person. You will be the banshee everyone thinks you to be. 

You hop up and storm across the room. You rip open the door and snarl, “would you keep it down?!” 

You are faced by a rather dopey looking trio. Two girls with a drunken glaze in their eyes and the hotel’s resident idiot; Thor. He smirks as the girls stagger around and babble, ignoring you as they grab at his thick arms. 

“Come on, Thor, you said we could see the honeymoon suite,” one whines. 

“Who even comes here--” the other hiccups, “for their honey--” hiccup, “moon?” 

It’s a fair question. You roll your eyes as Thor takes the girls beneath his arms, sending you a pointed look, “ah, don’t worry, girls, I’ll show exactly why anyone might come to Thunder Lane to unleash their darkest desires, eh?” He turns them away and you snarl at his back, “you’ll like the shower head.” 

He chortles loudly and you gasp. Disgusting. You swing the door shut and stomp your foot. More than the village itself, you detest that man. You almost feel bad for those dumb girls. They look much too young for him. Does he really think the silver strands blend so well into the golden blond? Well, you wouldn’t assume wisdom comes with age in that one. 

You pace back and forth, arms crossed, trying to figure some way to settle down. You don’t want to spend the whole night annoyed by that man and his drunken guests. You paid for your room. You paid for peace and quiet. 

You will not be riled any further. You are smarter than him. You are smarter than all of them.  

You finish the glass of wine and find your sleep mask along with the pair of earbuds that came with the emergency travel kit you found at the bookshop. It seemed ridiculous at the time but at least it has proven a sound purchase. You put the silk over your eyes and push the buds into your ears. You once more bury your head under the pillows as you let the dreamy tones of the Carpenters lull you. 

The wine helps. You feel yourself drifting as the drumming softens and the woodwinds blend in with Karen’s heavenly voice. Your breaths thicken and catch in your nose, rolling into snores you can hear through your half-sleep. 

The 70s pop fades away as you roll onto your back, the pillow slipping from over your head. Dazed and dozy, you lay in darkness, the pulsing of bass still rumbling through the mattress beneath you. You groan as your lashes flick against the sleep mask. You reach to remove it but a vice closes around your wrist, then the other. 

The bed jostles again. It's more than the thumping speakers below, there’s someone else there. You whimper as your arms are pinned beside you and a weight straddles your middle. A rolling thunder seeps into your ears as hot breath fans over you. 

“Don’t think I forgot about you, sweetheart,” Thor’s devilish baritone sends a shiver through you as he grinds his pelvis against yours, “time for you to join the party.”  

[touchme-teezme]

Fashion Week.

— mingi ver.

PAIRING | ateez mingi x genderneutral!reader

TAGS | (kind of?) fluff, meet cute, alternate universe, model!mingi has a crush

RATINGS | SFW

SONGS | fashion killa by A$AP Rocky, I THINK by Tyler, the Creator

SUMMARY | it’s your first day of working at fashion week and you fucked up without even entering the gates. that’s when you needed mingi’s help to make sure you didn’t get fired.

AUTHOR’S NOTE ▸ this is my first fanfic!! ahhhh (confetti machines explodes) so please be nice huhu. this was something i came up with while actually working at fashion week this year lmao so this is very self-indulgent. a fantasy if you will. i’m also kinda salty that milan & paris fashion week didn’t invite mingi, so i will. letting him walk too mama. models should be grateful this fine ass man chose to be ateez’s rapper. that’s all, okie bye—enjoy.

Milan Fashion Week.

One of the biggest events of the year is being held right here in Italy. Starting today in Montenapoleone, the most exquisite tailoring, the longest legs, and the prettiest faces walk a special runway, while the famous, powerful, and influential gathered to witness what the world would be wearing for years to come.

Understanding the weight of this moment, and how fortunate you were to be part of it, it was today, of all days, that you were running late.

Jostling through the crowded public transport, the stifling heat of the subway still clinging to you, you emerged onto the bustling streets. Honking cars trapped in gridlock loomed like a barrier between you and the entrance to Fashion Week. 

You weaved through the chaos, silently praying that nothing had fallen out of your purse—the zipper had been open the entire time. When you finally reached the gate, security stopped you, informing you that guests were about to arrive and the staff entrance was now closed. Only those with crew tags could be admitted, and they had been distributed during assembly—an hour and a half ago.

You sent a silent prayer for a miracle, but it seemed even God was sitting this one out. Pleading with the guards got you nowhere. You couldn’t call your boss; this was your first mistake of the season, and if fashion had taught you anything, it was to take initiative and fix problems before they reached your boss.

Circling the building like a shark hunting for a way in, you spotted him.

A face like an angel, wrapped in a sleek black Saint Laurent coat. You recognized him from today’s model lineup: fourteen shows, 6’3", lean build, size 43 shoes—Song Mingi, the season's newest sensation.

He’d been scouted in Incheon while buying a sandwich at a convenience store. Your friend in the industry took one look at him, got his details, and flew him out for a casting. He stole the show and was signed that same day.

He looked a little lost, scanning his surroundings with a phone pressed to his ear. Judging by how he hung up and stared down at his phone, whoever he’d called hadn’t answered.

Mustering your courage, you approached him. Tapping him on the shoulder, he turned, towering even more up close.

“Hi, you’re opening the first show, right?”

“Yeah, that’s me,” he said, studying your face as if he should recognize you.

“I’m with Fashion Week,” you said, hoping to reassure him. He sighed in relief.

“Thank God. I’ve been trying to figure out who I’m supposed to meet. I’ve got this that I’m supposed to trade for an access tag, but no one’s shown up to get me and help.”

“That’d be me,” you lied smoothly. Admitting the truth would’ve been a disaster. “I’ll take you in.”

“Awesome! So, uh... do we just go in with this?”

“Yeah, actually, pass it to me, and I’ll get you checked in.”

“Oh, you’re a lifesaver,” he said, his tone completely at odds with his dark, brooding look.

As he handed over his tag, you finally had your golden ticket. Glancing around the crowded street, you nudged him, “Let’s go.”

He didn’t hesitate, looping his arm through yours. You both walked—though you had to pick up your pace to match his long strides—heading for the back entrance. Flashing Mingi’s card for the exchange with the guards and ushers in the front, you passed yourself off as his manager and were waved through with the temporary yellow wristband that lets you in.

Relief flooded through you when the plan worked.

You handed Mingi back his tag, reminding him to wait until he was called. You guided him to the model green room, where other models should be waiting.

“Dude, there you are!” one of the models greeted him as soon as you both walked in.

“Yunho!” you heard Mingi call his friend. “So I kind of overslept this morning and—”

“On the first day? Brutal.”

You slipped past the towering figures without a glance, heading straight for your station.

Unbeknownst to you, Mingi peeked over his friends’ shoulders, watching as you disappeared backstage, wanting to thank you, but the words never made it past his lips.

Before you knew it, it was showtime. You slipped into place just in time, heart still pounding from the earlier chaos, but no one seemed to notice your absence. You did everything you could to ensure the show went smoothly, handling last-minute changes, guiding models, and coordinating with the backstage crew.

And then, the lights dimmed. The music swelled. The air hummed with anticipation.

That’s when the white curtains dropped, and Mingi emerged. Now transformed with styled hair and makeup, zipped into an avant-garde masterpiece that must’ve taken hundreds of hours to perfect. He strutted down the runway as if he had been doing this for years, though you knew it was his very first show.

He exuded a natural talent and presence that had the audience captivated. But it wasn’t just his walk. There was something magnetic about him, something raw yet polished enough to turn heads.

For a brief moment, his eyes swept across the room and locked onto yours. You froze, convinced that he was looking directly at you rather than the sea of cameras and faces in the front row. You could’ve sworn he smirked as he turned to make his way back up the runway, leaving your heart still racing.

As the show continued, you found yourself catching glimpses of him every now and then backstage—during quick changes, makeup touch-ups, or casual interactions with the other models. Each time, he seemed more relaxed, slipping easily into conversations, though his gaze always seemed to linger just a moment too long when he spotted you.

You headed backstage to run an errand, and there he was—leaning casually against the wall, waiting for his next cue. He looked relaxed, with clips in his gelled hair keeping it flat and perfectly styled. As soon as he spotted you, a grin spread across his face.

"Hey, stranger," Mingi said, straightening up as you approached, hunting down a specific box in the corner. 

“So I heard something funny.”

“What’s that?” you asked, fishing out magazines wrapped in plastic and passing it off to the frazzled intern waiting behind you.

“The guy who was actually supposed to get me this morning? He was apparently searching for me outside for like, twenty minutes but I’m glad to see you actually work here and that I wasn’t an accomplice to some rogue crasher.”

You chuckled, continuing to hand off the magazines to the intern, who was struggling to keep up. “Okay, full disclosure—I was totally winging it this morning. I was late, I didn’t have my pass and used you to get in.”

“So I was a ruse?”

“Pretty much.” You shrugged, glancing at the intern balancing the heavy stack. “Take these to reception, and give them out after this slot ends,” you instructed, watching her scurry off.

Mingi raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “I see."

“Desperate times,” you replied with a shrug of your shoulders. “Sorry about that.”

“No need,” he said, leaning in slightly with a conspiratorial grin. “To be honest, I was too stressed to think straight too. First-show jitters and all.”

“Jitters? Your walk didn’t look like it was your first show at all.”

Mingi shrugged with an easy smile, his eyes sparkling with mischief. He leaned in a little more, lowering his voice like he was letting you in on a secret. “Honestly? I’m just pretending I know what I’m doing.”

You laughed, feeling your nerves ease a little as the conversation flowed. “Well, that makes two of us and you’re pulling it off way better than me.”

He grinned. “You look like you’ve got it all under control, though.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Looks can be deceiving.”

His smile lingered as his eyes held yours a moment longer. Then, his name was called from across the room. He glanced over his shoulder, clearly needed elsewhere, but before he left, he turned back to you, his voice a little softer. “See you after the show?”

You nodded, unable to help the smile tugging at your lips. "Yeah, maybe," you said, your voice softening as he walked away.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of people, clothes and camera flashes. Every so often, you’d catch sight of Mingi, either on the runway or during chaotic backstage moments. And every time, he’d either flash you a grin or give you a subtle nod, like you were sharing some inside joke.

By the time the final show wrapped up, exhaustion was beginning to settle in. You were busy packing up when you felt a tap on your arm. You turned to see Mingi standing there, dressed in the clothes he wore this morning, but with his last runway makeup still on and his hair was slightly messy from the rush.

“So… I made it through my first day,” he said, beaming at you.

“Congratulations. Thirteen more to go,” you replied, returning his smile.

“You know, I wouldn’t have made it without you,” he teased, his voice softer now.

You waved it off, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks. “Oh please, you were the star today. I didn’t do anything, I just brought you backstage.”

“Well,” he said, his eyes twinkling, “I think you deserve some credit too.”

Before you could respond, a silence settled between you—one that felt comfortable, yet charged with something unspoken. He shifted his weight, hesitating for a moment.

“Are you sticking around after this?” he asked, leaning slightly closer.

You glanced around, noticing the crew still milling about but the bulk of the work nearly done. “Yeah, I’ll be here for a bit. Why?”

Mingi looked down, as if weighing his words before meeting your gaze again. “I was thinking… Maybe we could grab a drink or something.”

You hesitated, glancing around at the chaotic backstage scene—the racks of clothing, the scattered equipment, and the crew members still rushing around. Your excitement deflated a little as the reality of your responsibilities sank in. The day wasn’t quite over for you.

“I’d love to, really,” you started, biting your lip, “but I’ve got to stay for cleanup and a team brief afterward. It’s going to be a long night.”

Mingi’s smile faltered for a second before he gave a small nod, his expression softening with understanding. “Ah, I see. Duty calls, huh?”

“Yeah,” you sighed, feeling a twinge of disappointment.

He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “I can’t imagine doing what you do. You guys really are the backbone in all this, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you sit down today.”

You gave a rueful smile. “Yeah, I should’ve been a model so the only move I would be doing is down that catwalk.”

Mingi laughed, a warm sound that made you momentarily forget how tired you were. “You’d probably pull it off.”

“Not with my schedule,” you shot back, shaking your head. “Or y’know… all this.” You gestured to yourself.

“Nah don’t say that. You’re gorgeous.”

Your stomach flipped. “The model height requirement, I mean.”

Mingi’s cheeks flushed slightly, and he scratched the back of his head. He shifted his weight, biting back a shit-eating grin, as if debating whether to say something more. Then, his voice dropped a little, almost teasing. “Well, if you happen to finish early… maybe I’ll still be around.”

This guy...

You tried to keep your cool. “You should just go. Your call time is early tomorrow. Now that you’ve got your tag, you can just come in through the same entrance.”

He held your gaze, his smile lingering a little too long, eyes twinkling with mischief. “Damn. I was hoping you’d come save me again.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head as he gave one last playful salute before turning and walking off. If only you’d love your job less, you would’ve been getting drinks with a fucking model right now.

[bunny-eats-fox]

chaos

- miyamura izumi

warnings: mostly fluff ; physical violence mentioned (hori against miyamura in the past, like a slap to the face and hitting him) ; comfort wc: 1074 an: now... i get it, slapping ppl as a comedic relief is v anime-esque and shouldn't be taken too srsly and all, BUT... her hitting him, biting him and slapping him constantly is just... blergh. i dont find it funny nor cute n bc of that, here are my two cents how it could "affect" him bc i am a writer and i interpret way too much into everything especially regarding my favs... have fun!

__________________________

Your day had been a catastrophe.

Your toxic boss yelled at you in front of everyone for a mistake that he did but blamed you for. Your heel broke off on the way home which made you stumble and drop the phone you always held in your hand, onto the concrete. This incident in turn, made you late for your commute home and the bus drove off the moment you rushed around the corner. And, if all of that didn’t already had you clenching your teeth and clutching your purse tight to your chest to not burst into tears, a crow then decided to relieve itself onto your shoulder, staining your brand-new blazer.

Safe to say, when you came home, Miyamura’s “Welcome back.” immediately got stuck in his throat when he saw you: Exhausted and on the verge of tears.

“How about you take a nice, long and hot shower and then we eat on the sofa tonight, hm?” That was all he said and you, sniffling, just nodded and limped away to your bathroom to clean the poop off of your blazer and wash away that horrible day.

You were thankful and content when you managed to just snuggle up against your boyfriend and enjoy the meal that he cooked. It was a quiet dinner while you watched TV and when you were done, you left the dishes on the living room table and just cuddled and enjoyed his company.

But then…

It was a minor accident.

So small, in fact, that it was wasted energy to even think twice about it.

Yet, that small thing finally set you off.

Izumi reached out to grab his glass, but, as he looked at the TV, he somehow managed to knock it over. All of it spilled over the table and your legs.

Was it hot and burned you? No.

Was it something sticky and gross? Also no.

Yet, that one, additional tiny inconvenience broke the camel’s back and you started bawling the moment the mere water dripped down your legs.

Once you started crying, you also started yelling at him for not being careful, for being so clumsy and how horrible your day was. Meanwhile, Izumi, who had already apologized and patted your legs dry with some paper towels, just let you vent.

Now. You were someone who had always talked with your hands. You gestured with your hands greatly no matter what you talked about and with what kind of emotion. Izumi knew that. Though, you had only dated for a few mere months at that point and he hadn’t heard you yelling and crying like that before. It did remind him of someone and he thought he knew what to expect.

Hence, when you finally turned to face him and you raised your hands for another big gesture, you were taken aback for a second and even stopped mid-sentence. Miyamura, who had flinched and visibly moved his head sideways with his eyes closed, looked like he awaited a punch or something. His reaction felt like someone had punched you though. Did he really think you would… hurt him like that?

Immediately, you started to consciously control your breathing to calm down again. This was no time to get so angry over something so small. Especially because to you, his reaction was concerning.

“I-I’m sorry. I totally overreacted.”, your voice shook still, “I had such… a horrible day today and… then this happened and… and I’m so sorry for blowing up like that because of… some stupid water. I’m sorry, Izumi.”, your voice broke at the end and you only whispered the last words as another unwanted sob escaped your lips, yet you still took deep breaths to calm down.

“No, it’s okay, please, don’t apologize. It was my fault I spilled water all over you. You can still hit me if you want.”, he immediately said and hugged you tightly afterwards.

“What?! No!”, you cried and pushed him away just enough to look at him, “Why would I do that? I would never. I do gesture a lot with my hands, so I’m sorry if it looked like it, but I could never. I love you, I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Oh…Right.” Izumi looked truly baffled by that for a few moments. As if you had just told him you found the 8th wonder of the world.

“I’m sorry, (Y/n) I think… I’ve just gotten used to it.”, he laughed uncomfortably as he didn’t really know how to properly react now.

You just wondered what the hell his past girlfriend did to make him get used to getting hit in the face…

“Geez… don’t get used to that. That’s not okay.”, you whined and then jumped into his arms again, burying your face into the crook of his neck while you hugged him tight.

Miyamura didn’t know how to properly answer that, so all he did was hum in approval and squeeze you tightly. He, himself, didn’t even think that the hitting thing his past girlfriend used to do would even affect him. However, when he saw your big hand gestures, a sense of familiarity shot through his body and he physically got ready for another slap to the face… Hence, when you apologized and told him you would never do that, he was so surprised and speechless, since he was used to being blamed and apologizing for everything.

When you let go of each other, your tears had finally dried and you could smile a little again.

“Thank you and I’m sorry. You cooked for me and everything and I yelled at you like that over something so stupid. Can you forgive me?”

“Of course. I know you had an atrocious day, so that was just the last thing that pushed you over the edge. Don’t even think about it anymore.”, he reassured you and gently, but also teasingly, pinched your cheeks.

“Mn. Thank you. I love you.”, you leaned in to peck his lips.

Izumi quickly reacted and didn’t just let you escape like that, instead, he followed your movement to kiss you properly after he returned those sweet words, thus making you both fall back onto the sofa. Certainly, at that point and after all the things that had happened today, all you both needed were a tight embrace and some kisses and cuddles. And you, as well as your boyfriend, very happily provide those for each other.

__________________________

all characters canonically under 18 are always aged up ; english is not my native language so i apologize for any mistakes ;

[warpedpuppeteer]

buddie drabble: buck brings home a stray cat and eddie says no…. until eddie ends up being the only one the cat likes and he falls in love with it; established buddie, fluffy, chris is annoyed that the cat likes his dad more than him even though he feeds it treats

Thank you for the super adorable prompt! It's not all exactly as you wanted but I tried to stick to the prompt as close as I can. Hope you enjoy ☺️🫶🏽! (Link to AO3 is provided at the end for those who prefer that)

Fur-st Mew-ting

“No”. Eddie puts as much authority that he could muster in his best dad-voice. “Absolutely not”.

As expected, Christopher but dad’s him immediately.

“Look how cute he is, dad! And he has nowhere else to go!”, his son tries his best to make his case with his best puppy eyes.

Eddie looks over Christopher's curls where Buck is lurking in the background innocently.

His boyfriend is still in his uniform because he came here straight from work, and he is holding the tiniest kitten Eddie has ever seen close to his chest. It looks unrealistically small in Buck's large arms.

And fuck. It is a very cute sight.

Absolutely not, he tells himself determinedly, even if his heart beats slightly faster at the devastating sight of Buck coo-ing at the kitten.

It's a scruffy little thing. Fur sticking out ridiculously everywhere, tiny paws and big pitiful eyes staring right into his soul imploringly as if it was coached by both his boyfriend and his son to do its best to wear Eddie's defenses down.

And dammit; it's working.

Buck meets his eyes and has his own best puppy eyes weaponized.

Eddie sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose.

Chris whoops loudly exactly like Buck and Eddie mourns the fact that their son is already learning Buck's frat boy ways. He makes a mental note to hide all the baseball caps in the house.

A tiny questioning mew joins their whooping.

The Ap-paw-intment

The first thing that Eddie does the next morning is to call the closest vet they could find to fix an appointment for the kitten. The girl on the other end of the line is cheery and polite and tells him they have a slot open at 4pm today. Eddie agrees easily and she asks for the name of the ‘pawrent’ for the appointment. “Eddie Diaz. And Evan Buckley”. “And your fur baby’s name?”, she asks innocently. Eddie wishes for all the strength and patience in the world as he looks at Buck who has his lips pursed, trying his best to pretend he's not laughing. “Baby Eddie”, he finally grits out. The girl, bless her heart, only goes quiet for a few seconds before thanking him and tells him they're excited to see them later. He hangs up, mortified. Buck finally laughs gleefully. “Oh the look on your face!” He puts the phone on the kitchen counter and scowls at his boyfriend. “Shut up, Buck. I can't believe you named the stupid kitten that”. “Hey!”, his boyfriend, who has the kitten on the table, gently folds its ears down, “don’t call Baby Eddie the s-word. He's named after my boyfriend you know”. Eddie glares at him, “a boyfriend who is re-thinking the decision of dating you currently”. Buck grins at him, unrepentant. “It was just a funny idea me and Chris had. He looked so excited about it and I couldn't say no”. Eddie just shakes his head knowing he's going to regret asking but he does anyway. “Why is that even a funny name?”. Buck gently lifts up the kitten to show Eddie like he couldn't already see from where he's making breakfast for them. “Because look at him! He looks just like you. Has the scowl and big cow eyes and everything!” Eddie scowls harder at him and Buck laughs so hard he nearly falls off the chair.

A fur-tunate coincidence

Baby Eddie settles down easily in the Diaz household (soon to be the Diaz-Buckley household but Eddie-the human one- is currently still working on it). The vet's appointment had gone well which didn't come as a surprise because apparently Buck and Chris had picked up the kitten from a shelter. A fact that only came to light after Eddie had agreed to house the scruff-ball. Eddie had done his best not to seem embarrassed everytime the vet said Baby Eddie while talking about the kitten. Even when Buck had gleefully told the vet assistant that the kitten is named after its other dad and pointed at him. They also find out that Baby Eddie is a girl. Turns out Buck and Chris had missed that part when they picked up the kitten. They refused to change her name despite Eddie's very convincing arguments though. She is now officially Baby Eddie Buckley-Diaz. Later that night, Buck had plastered himself on Eddie's back and mumbled, “I was only actually fostering her, you know. I didn't mean to make you an involuntary cat dad”. Eddie turns around in his arms. Buck has that look on his face, the one he has when he thinks he's done something wrong. “I'm not mad Buck”, he says softly. “I've been planning to either adopt a dog or a cat anyways for Chris' next birthday. It just happened a little early”. Buck's eyes light up, “really?”. “Really”, Eddie assures him and kisses him gently just to be sure. “I'm going to be a hands-off parent though. And I still don't like her. And she looks nothing like me”. Eddie tucks his face into Buck's neck, hiding his smile, feeling the thrum of Buck's laughter against his cheek.

A meow-ment of weakness

Buck has searched through all the drawers, the clothes hamper and the washing machine but his favorite blue hoodie is still nowhere to be seen. Frustrated, he heads to the kitchen to ask Eddie if he's seen it anywhere and stops at the entrance. Eddie is sitting by the kitchen table, doing something on his laptop, headphones on. He's wearing Buck's hoodie, sleeves pushed up to showcase his delectable arms. That's not what makes Buck stop and stare though. It's the fact that Eddie is wearing Buck's hoodie the wrong way around because he has Baby Eddie snuggled up in the hood of it. Baby Eddie has her head out, staring at the screen in fascination. As Buck watches on, Eddie pets Baby Eddie’s head softly with a finger and kisses her tiny scruffy head before going back to what he was doing. It's absolutely adorable and Buck thinks he falls even more in love with Eddie than he already has (he's going to put a ring on it soon, he's working on it). He takes at least 10 photos as proof and then calls Chris as an eyewitness just in case before confronting Eddie about the stolen hoodie and about him claiming he would be a hands-off parent just a few nights ago. When Eddie refuses to plead guilty to the charges, claiming he didn't realize it was Buck's hoodie and that it was just a moment of weakness because Baby Eddie looked lonely since neither Buck nor Chris were looking after her, Buck sends one of the photos to the group chat, grabs Chris and runs for his life as Eddie yells out “Buck!” when he checks his phone as his notifications go off.

Playing fur-vourites

To the disappointment of everyone involved, Baby Eddie has decided that human Eddie is her favorite human amongst them all. She follows him around like a shadow everywhere he goes, purrs up a storm whenever he comes back home from work, and snuggles up and falls asleep on him anytime he sits somewhere. Chris does get slightly annoyed at the development. “I give her extra treats but she still likes you more. That's unfair dad!”, he complains, as only a pre-teen could. Eddie feels bad for his son. He's not sure why the kitten has taken such a liking to him either. He'd rather she get attached to Chris or Buck instead. “Well, is it a surprise though kiddo? Your dad's really great. I mean, he's your favorite and mine too. So, it's not really surprising Baby Eddie likes him too right?” Buck attempts to placate him. Chris grumbles a little bit more but seems happy enough with the explanation. Of course, the fact that Baby Eddie chose that exact moment to butt her head against his ankle to get his attention might have helped as well. As Chris sits down on the floor to play with her, Eddie mouths ‘thank you’ at Buck, feeling warm. Buck simply winks at him, his stupid adorable boyfriend.

Pawrents, Interrupted

“This is all your fault”, Eddie accuses- unjustly if you ask Buck- when Baby Eddie climbs up Eddie's thighs to curl up on his chest. They had been busy making out on the couch as Chris was away at Pepa's for the night. Buck is already shirtless, hair a mess from Eddie running his hands through them, lips kiss-bruised. Buck looks at his boyfriend - pants unbuttoned, a hickey already blooming under his jaw and lips kiss-bruised just like his own- and snorts at him before smirking deviously, “to be fair, you do have very nice tits”. The pillow smack to his face was totally worth it if you ask Buck. (He does however, banish Baby Eddie into Chris' room, where her bed is, temporarily, while he apologizes to his boyfriend for his remark, very profusely and thoroughly in ways not suitable for a young and impressionable kitten's eyes to see. Baby Eddie might not have ended the night very happily but human Eddie very much did.)

Imagine Baby Eddie to look something like this lil one here:

READ ON AO3!

[yourlocaltreesimp]

Just feral reader is in my mind just a reader that goes ape shit when someone tries to harm one of the links

oooh! I love the way you think! Gonna do this with Calamity!Link because this has been in my mind for too long to not write about

Hope you like it :>

CW: Harsh language, Me smack talking Flora a wee bit, power dynamic abuse

Plants, Like people

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Something was wrong. Not wrong enough that it was readily apparent, but enough that it ate at you, gnawing at your ribs with worry. Sure, there was always something inherently off about Hyrule pre-calamity that you couldn’t quite place. You pushed some loose hair away from your face and let out a heavy sigh. It was like there was a problem staring you right in the face, and no matter how much reasoning you did, it never went away. It festered, like creeping ivy crawling up a wall, latching to the stone of a home. It was like the Japanese honeysuckle, suffocating an eco system, leaving nothing but itself. Or like kudzu, out competing every other plant to the point it overgrows the grasses and trees. In long and short, there was a problem. You looked at your empty room in the palace, basic by all standards but you weren’t one to complain. Despite the room being larger than your own back home you couldn’t help but feel suffocated. You pushed off the chair at your desk and made a beeline to the door, looking to escape the room and your worries before they swallowed you whole.

In your wandering of the castle -uninterrupted by crawling pools of malice- you realised just how similar it was to Flora’s. The halls mirrored, the statues and carvings the same, a one to one. Yet despite that this castle was the very same as the one you just walked, it still felt so foreign. So… unwelcoming. Cold. You shook the thought and led yourself tyne whole way up the castle, winding all the way up to the sanctum. It took a decent amount of effort to press into the room, enough that as you had your shoulder pressed to the door, you could hear a voice from inside the room. Flora- eh, this iteration of her at least spoke. It was an understatement to say there was a difference in this worlds Flora from the one you were accustomed to seeing. She was always perfectly poised, a slight smirk whenever she spoke, looking to everyone as if she was owed respect, as if she were Hylia herself and not a decent of fading blood. Surly after so many years the power has thinned itself out by now, but the specific aspects of divinity evaded you. Afterall, the shrieks of a princess were far more attention catching.

“I mean come on are you even useful? All you have is that stupid sword. And even with that,” Her voice mocks, as if threatening, challenging whoever she verbally opposes to fight back. Because she knows what consequence would befall them if they did.

“I hold more power than you ever will. You are beneath me. I am descendent of the goddess. I am heir to the throne of Hyrule. And you?” You manage to see through a window in the doors elaborate carving, your feet ache at the stretch upward. Flora stands less than an arms length from Link’s -Or Calamity’s, Cal to be short- face. He stares off, shielding himself from the verbal tirade.

“You’re nothing.” Fire teens in your chest, liking at your ribs and clawing at your throat. You don’t have the control to stop yourself as you throw the doors open. You look at Flora as she does everything else. As a weed. Because that’s all she was to you now.

“Excuse you?” Your voice is an eerie calm, as if all worry you once held was nothing but a pretense to the burning rage scraping at your skin. You place yourself between a furious toddler of a princess and a knight who just looks more tired than anything. You didn’t like to think of how often this had to happen. Flora purses her lips, standing tall again as she prepares another indignant tantrum.

“Don’t even. You have no place to talk to anyone in such a manor. You are nothing but a child of a thinning bloodline. Your title -null as it is- means nothing.” She looks shocked, startled at your words. You explained to her, as if she were a toddler, the concept of basic respect. You pressed forward, forcing her to move backward. “It’s pathetic, really. How you treat people. I mean, I suppose for someone who wasn’t loved enough as a child it makes sense, but even then this is cruel. Petty. Maybe I should’ve expected less from you and I wouldn’t be so disappointed.” A low blow? Absolutely. Did you care? Not in the slightest. She raises her hand, still firm in her belief that no harm could come to her. But hubris brings down even the brightest of people. You catch her wrist as she swats at you face. You don’t stop yourself from laughing, the amused cackle echoing across the sanctum. “This has been fun. But I have better things to be doing with my time.” You smile, turning on your heel as Flora stands, utterly baffled. You entwined your hand with Link’s as he also stood entranced. You didn’t stop walking until you left the palace. It was a miracle that woman was alive.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Cal pov:

He couldn’t focus on anything other than the warm hand that occupied one of his own. He breathing was shaky -why was it so? it never was whenever the princess criticised him- and his mind flew by thoughts faster than he could manage. Goddesses he was so weak. Zelda was right. He couldn’t even take basic criticism. How could he ever be a hero? How could he ever be worth anything?

“Hey- Breathe.” Two warm hands cupped his cheeks, he recoiled in shock but found himself sinking into it. It was you. Goddess sent, his very sun in the sky you.

“I’m sorry, Hero” His heart nearly melted, such kind words, soft tone. That nickname, lords. He was swooning, his cheeks and ears warm, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

“I’m so so sorry. You’re worth everything, you know? To me. You try so hard and I promise you, it’s noticed.” One hand stays upon his cheek as the other cards through his hair, massaging his scalp. He lets a few bittersweet tears fall from his eyes. Fragility he was never allowed. But you pressed kisses to each tear, held him as he shattered, years worth of stress finally finding a break. You put so much pressure in an object and it explodes. Perhaps it’s not so different for people.