#genuinely love this and the pose this was all from the heart and I love it dearly
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cherubimcore · 22 hours ago
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pairing: caracalla x fem!reader
warnings: suicidal ideation :)
part 1 | part 2 (you are here!)
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the moon was shining bright in the sky when you woke up, guilt eating you alive, suddenly the comfortable bed you lay, felt too soft, soft enough to swallow you whole, the sirens and the phoenix you found so pretty on the frame now looked at you judgingly, everything felt too bright and too dark at the same time, too loud and too silent, you got up and looked around with your heart beating fast in your chest, your quarters felt wrong, or perhaps you were the one feeling wrong, your brain swirling and turning making you finally realize that even if every corner of the room gleamed, from the polished marble floor to the intricate mosaic ceiling that depicted the gods in all their splendor, this was still a cage, a gilded cage.
your head started to hurt, you cursed at yourself not even knowing why.
is it because the first genuine smile on your face in a long time was because of the comfort this room offered, only to be a very intricate and well thought prison? is it because, even for a split of a second, you felt you could have something good in your life even with all the blood on your hands? is it because you didn’t fight harder against the emperor's orders? trying to make them realize the monster they were putting inside their palace?
maybe everyone in your life was right, maybe death was the only way you could redeem yourself from all the pain you caused.
your chest tightens remembering the words of people you loved told you ever since your curse.
no, you couldn’t think of it right now, you needed to leave.
leave rome, leave this country, leave this world.
go anywhere where there isn’t a possibility that you could hurt someone else.
you got up quickly, almost falling from the bed directly to the floor.
you paced around the room trying to come up with a plan, the guards were your first obstacle. their rotations were predictable, but the sheer number of them posed a challenge. you moved to the balcony to observe their movements, noting the moments when their paths overlapped and when they left gaps in the palace defenses. this wasn’t a plan but was a start.
while slipping into a cloak you found around in the room you tried not to think what happened to the last person that stayed there, if they also had to leave in a hurry and left a perfectly good cloak laying around.
your hands clenched the bedsheets, they were going to be your makeshift rope to freedom, your heart pounded as you eased the doors to the balcony open, the cool night air biting at your skin, a shiver went down your spine but still you tied it to the balcony railing, after tugging the rope to test its strength, your gripped it tightly before throwing one leg over the railing.
you closed your eyes.
"i can do this," you whispered. "i have to."
you took a deep breath preparing yourself to jump from the balcony not really caring if you were wrong and the bedsheets wouldn’t bear your weight, a little part of you hoped it wouldn’t, you had convinced yourself that if that was the case you would be saving a lot of people from your curse, but you wanted to live, you wanted to fall in love...
the faint creak of your chamber door sent your heart into your throat.
you spun around, the rope slipping from your fingers, it’s tip landing on the garden beneath your window, standing in the doorway was a maid, her expression blank but her posture stiff with unease.
“emperor caracalla requests your presence in his chambers,” the maid said, her voice quiet but firm, as if nothing was out of the ordinary.
you froze, your mind racing, trying to come up with an excuse but then the maid’s gaze flicked to the tied rope on the railing, then back to your face, partially obscured by the cloak, but she said nothing about it.
“now?” you asked, struggling to keep her voice steady.
“yes,” the maid replied, lowering her head slightly. “he insisted it be immediate.”
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the walk to caracalla’s chambers was oppressive.
the maid led the way, her small lamp barely cutting through the darkness of the empty halls. your mind raced, your thoughts a storm of questions and curses. how much did caracalla know? was this just a coincidence, or had he been watching you all along? was this some sort of test? but why?
the door to his chambers loomed ahead, its polished wood inlaid with gold and carvings of mars and minerva locked in eternal battle. the maid hesitated at the threshold, glancing nervously at you before bowing her head. “he’s waiting inside.”
you didn’t reply, stepping past her and pushing open the heavy door.
caracalla’s chambers were as grand as you had expected. the scent of frankincense hung thick in the air, mingling with the faint aroma of wine. a fire crackled in the large hearth, its light casting long shadows over the rich, dark furnishings.
caracalla didn’t look up, swirling the contents of his goblet lazily in front of a fireplace. he was dressed more casually than earlier, his tunic loose, exposing the defined lines of his collarbone, that made him seem almost… human.
almost.
“come in,” he said without looking at you still, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade.
you hesitated at the threshold, your hand hovering over the ornate door frame. every instinct told you to run, but the maid’s lingering presence in the hall behind you was a reminder you had no choice.
caracalla’s eyes lifted to meet yours just for a second before looking at the fire once again, his lips curling into a faint smirk. “i won’t bite. not unless you ask.”
you stepped inside, the doors closing behind her with a soft thud that felt far too final.
“you called for me,” you said, your tone carefully neutral. “did you need something, emperor?”
“i was almost scared that you had died after sleeping for almost an entire day,” caracalla was seated near the hearth, his figure partially obscured by the high back of his chair. he turned slightly, just enough for you to catch the sharp cut of his profile. “or had already ran away”
your heart skipped a beat, but you forced yourself to remain calm and stoic, it wasn’t possible for him to know already about your plan, the only person who seemed to know was the maid from earlier but it was impossible for her to say something to caracalla.
she could tell geta about it though.
a shiver ran down your spine, you didn’t know if you would rather geta or caracalla to know about your… exciting night.
“i didn’t realize my every move was of such interest to you,” you said, keeping your tone neutral.
his lips quirked into a faint smirk, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “it is. everything about you is interesting.”
you shifted uncomfortably under his gaze, unsure how to respond.
“so, the famed venus’ shadow,” he said, his tone dripping with amusement. “come closer”
you hesitated but moved closer until you stood between him and the fireplace. his eyes finally met yours —piercing and unrelenting, as if he could see right through you.
“you seem unimpressed,” he noted, the corner of his mouth quirking into a smirk.
“i didn’t come here to impress you,” you replied evenly, surprising yourself with the steadiness of your voice.
his brows lifted slightly, intrigued. “no? and yet here you are, standing in my chambers, summoned by my word alone. tell me, does that not impress you?”
your jaw tightened. “i didn’t have much of a choice.”
caracalla chuckled, the sound low and rumbling. “that’s where you’re wrong. there’s always a choice. you just don’t have the courage to do what you actually want.”
his words unsettled you, though you refused to let it show. you straighten your posture, meeting his gaze head-on. “if that’s why you called me here, to test my will, then i’d rather leave.”
“leave?” he rose from his chair slowly, his movements deliberate, as if savoring the tension in the room. he wasn't so tall, but was taller than you, making his presence consuming the space between you. “you’ve only just arrived. surely, you’re not eager to run already.”
“i don’t belong here,” she said firmly, though your voice wavered slightly.
“and where do you belong?” he countered, taking a step closer.
you didn’t answer. you couldn’t.
caracalla studied you for a moment, his smirk fading into something more contemplative. “the world out there isn’t kind to people like you. you’ve been gifted—or cursed, depending on how you see it—with something that others would kill to possess. staying here is the safest option. for now.”
“are you saying that to protect me or you want me to be your weapon instead of someone else’s?”
the room fell into silence once again, the crackle of the fire the only sound between you both.
“i don’t want to be a prisoner,” you finally said, your voice barely above a whisper.
“you’re not,” he said firmly. “you’re a guest. a very valuable one.”
“am i free to leave then?” you challenged.
“no.” he answered in a heartbeat, taking a step away from you, looking everywhere but at your eyes.
your breath hitched, but you refused to look away. “then what is this, caracalla? am i your prisoner? or am i your new weapon? or you are trying to protect me? you can’t have all of those!”
his brow furrowed, but you pressed on, your voice gaining strength once again.
“i’m not stupid,” you said. “i know i’m here because of my curse, because of what I can do. but tell me, do you keep me locked in this palace to protect me from others? protect others from me? or are you simply waiting to find the best way to use me?”
caracalla’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, you thought he might lash out. instead, he surprised you by letting out a low chuckle, shaking his head.
“you think so little of me,” he said, his tone almost amused.
“i think of you exactly as you are,” you shot back. “a man who’s built his empire on conquest and blood. why should i believe i’m any different? that you wouldn’t turn me into another tool for rome’s glory?”
“you see yourself as a tool?” he asked, his voice quieter now, almost thoughtful. “funny. i see you as a flame—wild, untamed, and dangerous.”
your heart skipped a beat, but you kept your expression defiant. “you didn’t answer the question.”
caracalla stared at you for a long moment, “i won’t lie to you,” he said finally. “your gift makes you valuable. and yes, there are those in this palace who would see it used for rome’s benefit. but they don’t see what i see.”
“and what do you see?” you demanded.
“i see a woman who has spent her life fighting to survive,” he said, his voice soft but firm. “someone that was hated and cast aside for something she can’t control. someone that wishes to die so that she can’t endanger anyone else but also wishes to see everyone that wronged her burn in tartarus”
his words hit harder than you expected, and you hated how they made your chest tighten.
“you didn’t answer my question,” you repeated, your voice faltering slightly.
“if leaving is what you truly want, i won’t stop you,” he said. “but tell me this—what are you running from? because i don’t think it’s me.”
the question struck a chord deep within you, one you hadn’t expected. you opened your mouth to respond, but no words came out.
“i would never hurt…” you tried once again taking a deep breath “i would never hurt anyone willingly, i’m not like you”
“if you are not running from those destructive thoughts on the little head of yours” he tilted his head “what are you running from?”
“i don’t want to hurt people!”
“yet, you decided that you wanted to get out of the most safe place you could ever be, both from you and everyone else,” he laughed. “why?”
you scoffed, crossing your arms. “you don’t know me.”
“don’t i?” his gaze bore into yours, a predator’s patience evident in his stance. “you’re holding onto something, a fire that only grows hotter the more you try to suppress it.”
you shook your head, laughing bitterly. “you’re delusional.”
“and you’re lying,” he countered smoothly, stepping closer once again. his voice dropped, becoming softer, more dangerous. “you want to see them pay. every single one who wronged you, betrayed you, tried to destroy you.”
“you don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said, your voice steady despite the storm inside you. “revenge doesn’t fix anything. it only breeds more pain.”
caracalla tilted his head, his smirk fading into something more thoughtful. “perhaps. but pain is power when wielded correctly.”
you turned away, staring at the fireplace “i’m not like you, caracalla.”
“no,” he agreed, taking a few steps to stand next to you, he was also staring at the fire, you wish you could know what he was thinking just like he knew your own soul and thoughts. “you’re not. you’re better. which is why it amuses me that you fight so hard to deny yourself.”
your breath hitched, but you refused to look at him.
“deny what?” you asked, your voice a whisper.
“that you want them to pay,” he said, his tone almost gentle now. “and that deep down, you know you deserve to see it.”
you wanted to refute him, to tell him he was wrong, that he doesn’t know you.
but you couldn’t.
caracalla, sensing your silence as a victory, said “you don’t have to admit it, but you’ll see it eventually. when the time comes, i wonder... will you embrace it?”
you wanted to deny him, to prove him wrong. but the flicker of fire in your chest told you that, perhaps, you couldn’t.
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digi-destiny · 1 year ago
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DigiDaily Day 8 / BlackGuilmon
I really really like the pose here :) ill probably finish it someday
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shotmrmiller · 2 months ago
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getting shot down by ghost without even asking him out or anything because he'd heard from one scottish bird that your type of guy was exactly like him and thinking back on it now, all the qualities you'd listed for your dream man do sound like as if you were describing him. yikes.
you don't take his rejection to heart, even though it does lightly sting but before you get a chance to explain that said scottish bird is an idiot and very mistaken in his assumption, ghost is telling you that it'd never work, you'd only get hurt and that you do take to heart because what does that mean, exactly? does he think you some dewy eyed farm girl looking for love? that you can't have casual sex with someone without eventually wanting for more?
"tha' ain't wha' i said. you'd get hurt, i mean look at ya." what about you? it's not like you'd let any of what happens behind closed doors affect your performance or anything, you and kyle always keep things professional while in the field.
also, is he aware that he doesn't have to have a reason to not want to sleep with you, or anyone else for that matter?
"you're small," he states, as if fact.
small? small where? your irritation dissipates, shoulders bleeding tension as genuine worry begins to set in. his vision might actually be going bad. could it be the black paint he wears under his mask? is it even safe to use on the face let alone near the eyes? did he read the instructions?
but then you realize he's looking at your legs, or specifically, what's between them and things click, and now you're wondering how someone so bloody brilliant could be this fucking stupid.
"while i appreciate your concern, lieutenant," you pointedly snap, "that's not even- i'd be just fine." he's a big guy, for sure. massive, if being honest. his neck alone is easily bigger than both your hands and you've caught him once or twice having to duck his head to enter the debriefing room but him being so endowed that it poses a threat to you is idiotic at best.
he hums, long and low in his throat, as he peers down at you through heavy lidded eyes, and raises his right shoulder in a shrug. "as you like," and that's the one and only warning you got.
simon had given you as much foreplay as needed, had lapped at your pussy until you forgot what day of the week it was, curled and scissored his fingers until his bedsheets were sodden and it still hadn't been enough. he'd only fit about a fourth of it in before he took pity on you and fucked your thighs instead until he got close, pushing his ruddy tip back into your aching cunt because "spillin' outside is a waste," and sent you on your merry way.
you're no quitter though and after some shopping online, your saving grace (dilators) will be here in a week.
(now to find soap and rip the rest of his hair right out his scalp for wagging his tongue.)
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meggalice · 5 months ago
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Happy Birthday to the Rise movie, 2 whole years, man how time truly flies.
If you'd told me 2 years ago that I would still be knee deep in the trenches of an intense hyper-fixation of TMNT of all things, I highly doubt I would have believed you.
Yet here we are, my best friend had decided that "hey, you'll probably like this show I've been watching..." from there the rest is history. Every so often you come across a piece of art or media that just lights a creative fire inside of you that refuses to be ignored. The Rise series as a whole has been responsible for inspiring so much growth in my art, whether that be more techniques to push pose designs even further, become more daring with composition and finally, finally have human anatomy studies make sense.
I've also met some truly wonderful people thanks to the Rise fandom, I've not been bold enough to reach out to artists/writers I admire in the past but after taking the plunge and becoming apart of some community servers I've been lucky enough to forge some special friendships with some truly wonderful people. (Y'all know who you are and I love you so so SO much.)
Happy Birthday to a movie and by extension series that continues to inspire me with its incredible directing, genuinely hilarious writing and warm, tender heart.
Keep writing, drawing, painting, posting and talking about this truly special little series and maybe one day we'll see get to see it light up our screens again.
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solxamber · 2 months ago
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Romance Clichés With: Vil Schoenheit
Cliché: The Airport (Dark Mirror?) Confession
Others: Leona ; Azul ; Kalim ; Idia ; Jamil ; Riddle
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Vil had told you last week about his upcoming movie shoot in another country. He’d casually mentioned he'd be gone for a little while, which you’d taken in stride. After all, he was a famous actor—it wasn't like he was leaving forever. At least, that’s what you thought. But Rook had other ideas.
“Oh, mon ami,” Rook sighed dramatically the day before Vil’s departure, “how brave you are. Truly a testament to love, to be able to bear such a tragic farewell without shedding a single tear! Many would crumble under the thought of not seeing their beloved for years.”
You blinked, pausing mid-bite of your sandwich. “Years?”
Rook nodded, his eyes misting over, clearly lost in some inner poetic monologue. “Oui, it may well be years before we see Roi du Poison’s radiant visage again. Some might say he is embarking on an odyssey, one that will only return him to our shores once he’s ascended to an even greater pinnacle of fame.”
“Y-Years?” you echoed, a pit forming in your stomach.
“Bien sûr!” Rook leaned in, whispering with all the seriousness of a tragic romance novel. “In showbiz, a project could take ages—rewrites, reshoots, promotional tours... Why, he may even settle abroad to cultivate his craft.”
You dropped your sandwich, horror dawning as the words hit you with full force. Your mind went into overdrive. Vil... leaving? Maybe forever? You pictured months, even years of unanswered texts, long-distance video calls, and eventually, just fading away from each other’s lives.
You couldn’t take it! And if he was leaving, you had to make it clear that he’d be leaving someone who would do anything for him.
Which was why, mere minutes before Vil was set to leave, you were charging across campus, heart pounding and absolutely zero plan in mind.
He was standing in front of the Mirror of Darkness, his poise immaculate as always. His entourage surrounded him, but you were zeroed in on only one thing: making sure he knew you would sacrifice anything to keep him.
He was taking a few moments to pose with his usual elegance, utterly unaware that you were barreling toward him with all the grace of a charging rhinoceros.
“Vil!” you yelled, gaining speed as you neared him. He turned, brows raised just slightly before you flung yourself into his arms, nearly sending him toppling over.
“Please,” you blurted, “don’t go!”
Vil’s face softened, and he looked about to speak, but you were already mid-rant, words tumbling out in a fevered rush.
“Vil, I swear, I’ll change my entire skincare routine if you want! Every day, double cleanse, essence, eye cream—I’ll use every serum, sheet mask, and exfoliant you recommend.” You grabbed his hands, clutching them tightly. “And if it’s my diet, I’ll cut out carbs or sugar or whatever you want! I’ll even drink green juice, Vil!”
His eyes widened in something like amusement, but you didn’t give him a chance to interject.
“Please, just don’t leave forever. I don’t care how famous you get or how much international recognition comes your way, or how you’ll become the new face of high fashion—I’ll do anything. I love you, Vil. I’ll do whatever you need me to. Just. Stay."
Vil blinked, clearly stunned, but before you could spiral into another tirade, he leaned in, his lips capturing yours in a soft, breathtaking kiss. It was enough to shut you up instantly, and when he finally pulled back, he looked at you with an exasperated but deeply affectionate smile.
“Darling,” he said, brushing a hand down your cheek with a chuckle, “I’m really only leaving for two weeks.”
“Oh.” You stared up at him, cheeks flushing red as his words sank in.
“Two weeks,” he repeated, laughing softly, and his face lit up in a way you’d never seen before—completely unguarded, genuinely amused, and utterly, hopelessly in love.
Your flustered mumbling was drowned out by his gentle laughter. “So… all that talk about green juice and sheet masks…” His chuckle turned into a full laugh, rich and uninhibited, echoing through the hall as a dozen phones captured the moment.
He gave you a lingering kiss, entirely unconcerned with the crowd, before pressing his forehead to yours. “You really thought I’d leave you forever?” he whispered, a teasing sparkle in his eye. “Oh, my sweet, melodramatic potato.”
You mumbled something unintelligible, hiding your face in his shoulder as your embarrassment finally caught up to you.
By the time he returned two weeks later, it was all anyone on campus could talk about. The candid video of him gazing at you, laugh lines softened, love written all over his face—it had gone viral. Even Vil was taken by surprise at how the internet had swooned over the whole scene, declaring you both the new “It Couple” of NRC.
And if Vil noticed the way his likes had outpaced Neige’s on Magicam, well, he wasn’t above a little bragging.
He’d make a show of it too, asking Mira each morning, “Who’s the most popular couple on Magicam?” And every time, he would grin, smugly satisfied with the answer.
And if anyone dared ask him how he got so much traction on his account lately, he’d just smile, gaze in your direction, and shrug with feigned innocence.
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Masterlist
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seumyo · 7 months ago
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BAKUGOU KATSUKI ✰ 3:58
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No amount of hectic schedules, exhausting patrols, rowdy villains, and never-ending legal paperwork could ever keep Bakugou from attending his daughters’ extracurricular activities—because he’d literally go through literal hell and back than to ever see a disheartened pout along with the silent treatment after he gets home from work.
You think he’ll ever miss any of his daughters’ milestones? Fuck no!
Bakugou insists on being at every event, his phone—and even an actual camera during a good day—in hand, his heart swelling with pride and unconditional love that makes his chest figuratively hurt; it might as well be a medical problem at some point. 
Because, if anything, Bakugou Katsuki is a father first and a hero second.
“Shit, ‘m late. Have they started yet?”
He’s sweating as if he just used his explosions to propel himself in the air to get to you quicker, but, in truth, he sort of had to just run since the traffic on the highway today would’ve only angered and slowed him down. He left patrol to Halfie, who offered to take his shift, knowing how many times Bakugou covered for him when he was in his son’s piano recital.
“They just started doing warmups,” you answer. “Did you run? You’re drenched to the bone; you’re going to catch a cold if you don’t get changed into some dry clothes.”
“Hah, doubt it.” He snorts, though he does appreciate the thought of you bringing him a spare shirt for just-in-case purposes.
You're always the one who thinks ahead, aren't you? Bakugou knows he’s a very lucky man to have such a doting, caring wife that humbles him whenever he gets too focused on his pride. The balance that he didn’t know he needed!
Ignoring the gawking stares of the other parents—because it’s not everyday you see the Pro Hero Dynamight in mundane activities such as watching his kid take gymnastics’ lessons—he looks through the glass in search of his little princess.
Just as he saw her, his lips curled to that oh-so genuine smile, one that just said, “That’s my daughter, right there! Look at how awesome she is!” 
Bakugou remembers how his parents were the same and how they were very supportive of his interests and hobbies, no matter how odd they may be for a five-year-old. How often do you see someone learning to take on both hiking and archery at the age of five? Bakugou was sure he learned most skills during his childhood that made him a firm hero in the field today.
“She has a bit of trouble with tumbling because of her tummy.”
“Yeah? And does that have somethin’ to do with my awesome cooking?” Bakugou replied smugly. “Besides, ‘ts just baby fat, and I’d prefer to see her like this than to see her thin but often sick.”
“Mhm, and she makes up for the cutest ending pose.”
“And her effortless splits. Have the coaches seen her do that?”
You shook your head. “Not yet,” you say, “but I think they’re about to do it—oh! Look, look!”
And he does; his phone’s camera is already recording his youngest daughter doing a perfect vertical split, while the other girls somewhat struggle to maintain a consistent posture. 
“She’s a natural, hun.”
“She is,” you chuckle, “just like her Daddy to a certain extent.”
“Damn right, she is.”
Bakugou tries to hold back his laughter when your daughter once again attempts a forward roll with the guidance of the staff. Her tummy somewhat makes it a bit difficult for her to do so. The way she hesitates but then does the forward roll, albeit a little lopsided with a smile that shows her adorable tooth gap—it was safe to say that your daughter was over the moon with her gymnastics lessons.
It’s all too much for him to take.
And when all is over, he greets his daughter by picking her up and blowing raspberries on her neck that have her squealing in laughter before he insists that he’ll be the one to talk to the coaches about the upcoming schedules and the progress your daughter has made. 
“Mr. Bakugou, she’s a good listener, and I believe that she’ll be moving onto the next class with the older children in no time,” they told him. “Has she received prior training before this one?”
“She’s also taking ballet lessons,” he answers, “but gymnastics is what she really likes. Ballet was just a compromise since your services weren’t available in our area at that time.”
“That’s wonderful to hear. It’s a joy to have her in class. I’ve already sent Dr. [Last Name] the schedules we offered, and we are looking forward to having your daughter in the upcoming lessons.”
The walk back to your car was light and quiet for a change. Your youngest daughter, Kusami, was out like a light in Bakugou’s arms, having worn herself out with socializing, rolling, doing splits, and whatnot the gymnastics’ instructors told her to do. And Bakugou was just letting the simple moment sink in because this is what he considers the most rewarding part of his day. 
Time spent with his family.
Bakugou also warmed up to the thought of having to interact with other parents. He chatted with a single father earlier, whose daughter was the oldest in Kusami’s class. It was nice to converse with equally enthusiastic and supportive parents that you meet through your children's extracurricular activities.
“Let’s go through a drive-through; get Katsumi her usual order,” Bakugou murmurs, remembering how his oldest daughter, Katsumi, would’ve probably woken up from her nap by now and was probably anticipating her family’s return. 
“Alright,” you nod. “Katsumi and Kusami have swimming lessons tomorrow at five in the afternoon, too. Do you think you’d get home that early?”
“Of course,” he answers. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
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SEUMYO © 2024, PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.
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sordidmusings · 2 months ago
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jealousy headcanons and scenarios r my kryptonite! especially for emotionally constipated characters lol. for shanks, mihawk, and crocodile seeing their crush interacting with someone that turns out to be said crush's ex? there's chemistry between the exes and are those lingering looks he's seeing?! 🫢
OOOOOOOO GOOD CHOICES GOOD CHOICES 👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻 I must say I am weak for some jealousy too 💀 why does it have to be so hot in fiction huh??? Or make me feel wanted????? Rude 😤
Three jealous DILFs coming right up 🫡
Jealousy from Shanks, Mihawk, and Sir Crocodile
Your ex comes back into your life and stirs up some feelings - How are these men taking it?
Form this took: started as a bulleted headcanons but then became a scenario/ficlet for each ahsdjajskdajs
Word count: Shanks - 1.1 k, Mihawk - 1.2 k, Croc - 1.2 k
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Shanks
The clinging and diverting type
This mf tries to be sneaky about it
Key word: tries
It’s no secret that Shanks is the jovial sort and that his welcome and cheer extend easily to newcomers. However, something curious happens when the next one joins your large table.
You always have at least a part of Shanks’ attention, so the way you shift uncomfortably and curl slightly in on yourself is not going to go unnoticed. You catch yourself and relax back into your usual posture, but Shanks knows you well enough to see there’s a posed touch to all your expressions. It tames them from the genuine displays of your thoughts and emotions that Shanks so loves into something more suited to a diplomat seeking favor. Now that had him wary.
It took no genius to notice that each time a great laugh broke out your eyes would sweep to that newcomer to take them in, or how your would flicker your gaze over to them every time you had the spotlight, as if seeking approval.
Gods Shanks hopes that isn’t the case
Driven to seek comfort in your presence, Shanks leans into his affectionate nature to keep close to you. You can’t think too long on someone else with him constantly leaning into your space to whisper dumb jokes and silly observations. He made those laughs and he gets to enjoy them up close and personal. You may look to others but you always look back to him when he ventures to lay his hand on your shoulder or hand or thigh and give a happy, hearty squeeze before retreating. He relishes in the fact that you had been uncertain of his touch when you first met yet now you trust and even welcome his hand on you.
Shanks is burst right out of his bubble of avoidance when you suddenly jolt and sit straight, separating yourself from his side.
The cause of his sudden and very dire lack of you is that very same newcomer. The newcomer, who is leaning in so close to you. The newcomer, who now has all of your attention. The newcomer, who is giving you a smile that Shanks very much does not like. It’s very charming and holds a twinge of remorse that Shanks knows from experience would strike straight and true right to your heart
“I’m glad to see you in happier times. You look good,” they have the audacity to say, the words even seeping with honesty. Shanks isn't sure he focused on anything in his life as hard as he does on your reaction in this moment.
Your smile is breathtaking, one he isn't sure he’s seen before, all affection and understanding and a dusting of yearning. It turns his heart to goo right before it clamps it tight and squeezes, because that smile isn't for him. He needs that smile to be for him. His mouth is moving before the thought even sinks in.
“We do like to keep things cheerful here!” Shanks chuckles to the newcomer. He turns to you, making sure to catch your eye. “Life’s too short to anchor yourself to your sorrows.” Now back to the newcomer. “And this one-” an arm slips around your shoulders, hugging you to his warm side, “-helps keep it that way.”
The smile you give him isn’t quite as overflowing with emotion as the one you gave the newcomer, but he loves it all the same.
Unfortunately, that’s not the end of it and the newcomer actually sits down on your other side and insists on catching up. Shanks is a damn charmer though, and he knows it, so he’s not one to give up on keeping your attention through the night.
He stays in the conversation easily, not deterred by the newcomer outsider bringing up shared memories with you, even though they squeeze at his heart and lungs tighter and tighter. He uses it to get to know more of you, a part of him truly enjoying the new insights. However, a much larger part is simply set on keeping the reminiscing light instead of romantically charged.
As the time and drinks flow, his and the outsider's tactics get more obvious yet you get more oblivious, simply cruising on the comfy fuzz everything had taken on and enjoying the company. Your unintentional refusal to pick a favorite has both of them getting desperate and daring.
Try as they might, the outsider is clearly outmatched
By the end of the night you’re wearing Shanks like a perfume, he’s stuck to your skin at the heart of your body, chest always tight to your back or side, chin often hooked over your shoulder or on top of your head. His slight scruff tickling at your ear when he moves and talks is exceedingly distracting. So is the softness of his hair on your neck when he turns his head to bed his cheek into your shoulder and pull you a little tighter to him, saying its just 'cause he's a little sleepy and trying to get comfy. He unearths himself from his resting place only to seek it again every few minutes.
His arm is always around you when he wasn’t using it to drink (of course) or toy with you - tugging at your clothes for attention, tickling your sides to interrupt you, sweetly scratching your scalp to derail your train of thought, teasingly rubbing a thumb into your hip or thigh to feel you squirm.
Shanks is a handsy motherfucker (ironic right-), so you don’t take any of this as a proclamation of his love. The most you think is that it has just hit that point in your journey together where his vast appetite for partners has finally swept its way to focus on you.
You end the night giggling the whole stumbling way back to the ship, tucked into Shanks’ side. You manage to stay there despite being at the mercy of both of your swaying, constantly blending who’s supporting and who’s slipping. Your ex is far from your mind when Shanks tucks you in sweetly (well… sweetly to a drunk; in all reality you kinda flopped in, but he did make sure you were shoeless and properly under the blankets, and he even shuffled back in to put water, crackers, and medicine where you could reach).
Shanks does however have a flash of your ex in his mind when he's happily gloating to himself that he had won.
His last blurry thoughts are of how to make sure you and everyone else unquestionably knows that you are off limits. The unspoken claim understood by the crew while he works at winning you over doesn't seem to be enough anymore. Especially if that pesky ex comes sniffing around again. Maybe they just need a lesson in what staring down Conqueror’s Haki truly feels like.
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Mihawk
The intimidating and biting type
Mihawk would likely be the most covert of these three, at least as far as your notice goes
Your ex has no questions about Mihawk’s dislike for them. With his reputation as emotionless and solitary, it’s not guaranteed that your ex will put two and two together to realize that Mihawk's dislike stems from their previous relationship with you. Even if Mihawk hints at it, they'll tell themselves that they're imagining things. It’s much more likely that they’ll think it’s because Mihawk is that way with all but the Few Exceptions, and they have definitely not made the cut.
It definitely didn’t help that they were a marine
Mihawk is already unhappy to see a marine on his doorstep, no doubt sent to yip at him about some nonsense or other that the admirals were in a twist over. That unhappiness quadruples when he hears you tentatively call to this marine by name, and then it multiplies again when the marine responds by breathing out your own name with shock and hope
This pest needs to be out of his castle quickly
Yet he can't bring himself to simply throw them out when you come over so disgustingly happy to see them. There were a few times where he'd interrupted or snuffed out your joy while adjusting to you joining his home, and he found the feeling it gave him insufferable. That's what forces him to let the pest in and guide them with you to the smaller dining room.
He’d simply have to find what the pest needs fast and expedite whatever catching up you two apparently must do.
That's easier said than done; you and the pest are insistent on taking time between flustered pleasantries to share uncertain smiles and lingering looks of longing in charged silence.
It's giving him the worst mood he'd had in years.
At first he tries to discourage this lingering with his mere presence. He knows he's capable of pumping out enough sheer displeasure into the air to knock out a squadron, so he keeps it to his other tools: body language that makes him feel larger than the room and a glare sharp enough to split hair. Both make the pest cringe and shy away, but the chance to gain your favor makes them push through it. Even though he hates it, Mihawk can't blame them.
Mihawk can tell that his mood is setting you on edge too - almost anyone would with the perturbed looks you've been sending his way - but that isn't technically taking your joy, so he doesn't back off.
In fact, he decides it's time to push even more.
He begins interjecting in your conversation, mostly with little insults to take the wind out of the pest's sails.
You aren't yet tipped off that there's something hiding behind his mood; he was never fond of braggarts so it isn't so out of the ordinary for him to humble someone. Of course, you wouldn't exactly call what your ex is doing "bragging" so much as filling you in on their growing career. They are actually relatively humble about it, clearly just excited to fill you in and not phrasing things to seek your praise.
Then Mihawk starts complimenting you.
Mihawk is not one to dish out praise. You've had to fight tooth and nail to get the mere drops of it you'd tasted so far, so his sudden highlighting of your positive traits trips your sensors. It isn't exactly alarm bells ringing, more it makes you feel like there's something you're missing. You figure it's the sudden disruption and old instincts from his Marine Hunter days cropping up.
You would have never guessed that his aim with his nitpicking and praising is to make sure your ex knows for a fact that you are out of their league. They don't deserve you. But he could.
No matter the reason though, you certainly relish in Mihawk calling you things such as "necessary for [his] castle", "smarter than those inane marine trials", "finally proficient and needing no distractions to ruin that", and "better company than a bunch of sea monkeys". Sure, from most anyone else they'd feel slightly insulting, but from everything you've so far seen of Mihawk that's a glowing review.
The uncanny nature of this whole interaction, from Mihawk's tank in mood to the sudden praise, keeps your focus away from your ever shrinking ex.
Mihawk is simply delighted to see your attention going to its rightful place, on him. You should be looking at him with such interest and joy. You should be seeking his approval; not some simpering swine's.
He figures he's been patient enough (it's been almost a whole ten minutes after all) and it is time to end this farce.
Mihawk stands from his spot and goes to sift through the wine rack. He returns with an above average vintage (even by his tastes) and two glasses. He sets them at the corner of the table so he can deftly open the wine. The silence as you both watch him work elates him.
The first glass is placed in front of his seat and swiftly filled. You watch the action with admiration for his fluid and confident motions. The pest watches with growing envy.
The second glass is filled while still sat in the corner, keeping its owner ambiguous.
The bottle leaves one hand and that glass enters the other, coming with Mihawk as he moves to stand behind your chair.
His full height set strongly in sharp shoulders and straight spine cuts a devilish figure behind you. Your ex's first impression was that he is haunting you, but there's some little whisper in their mind that, no, Mihawk is protecting you.
That whisper gets stronger as Mihawk leans forward over you, getting much too close to be polite while he places the wine glass down directly in front of you. His eyes hold the pest's with an air of warning the whole time.
Mihawk settles back upright, placing a hand on both carved corners decorating the back of your chair. The act seems clearly possessive. But surely Mihawk couldn't have found some special fondness for you?
You are none the wiser to Mihawk's antics behind you, too enraptured by the closeness of his reaching arm then too distracted checking out the color and aroma of your gifted wine.
Having at least enough pieces of a functional brain to pick up on that cue, the pest begins rushing out some excuses and makes to leave.
Kind as you are, you tell them they don't have to rush off, but they're adamant. You're a bit sad to see this chance meeting end so quickly, but your mind quickly settles on thinking it's for the best. Your memories of them are distant enough to be cherry picked and seeing them scamper off so easily reminds you that there are reasons you parted.
Mihawk chases escorts them out and returns to you looking much less belligerent and much more at ease. You figure it best to not risk ruining the positive turn by questioning it, yet you can't help but ask one thing.
"I usually have to pour my own wine from the kitchen's rack. What's the occasion?"
Mihawk takes a sip and the comfort of one of his favored wines coming over his senses coerces him into loosening his tongue.
"You've been good." Another sip and he thoughtfully adds, "I could give you more rewards."
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Sir Crocodile
The assertive and analytical type
Despite Croc being a plotter, I see him as being quite direct in this situation
Ok yeah maybe he insists it’s because you can do better and you’re definitely above crawling back to an ex (“you broke up for a reason didn’t you?”)
But maybe he also takes this as his opportune moment to get you into his clutches.
Who could blame him when he feels the threat of such an unworthy little nobody working so hard to catch your eye.
Croc always keeps an eye on you, no matter what else demands his attention. Sure, there's an obsessive edge to it, but he just needs to know what you're up to - has to know you're safe near for when he needs you. You are the best assistant he's ever seen after all, and he's been through an army's worth. He's sure his new organization would've crumbled if you weren't there to balance out the clown and his circus monkeys constantly shooting themselves in the foot (sometimes literally).
Many of those circus monkeys were even stupid enough to try and approach you themselves. Luckily for him, you seem about as enthused on the idea of you having a partner as he is.
Which brings us back to his irritation that you haven't swatted that bug away from you. No, instead you seem to be rather tolerant of their buzzing. Maybe even fond.
That just won't do.
The crowds at this schmooze-fest, thrown to entice more pirates and criminals alike, part easily for his beeline to you.
It only irritates him even more that you don't notice him until you're swallowed by his shadow. You even have the audacity to look surprised when you turn to him.
And you truly are surprised - as far as you know there's no reason for Croc's usual grimace to turn into something so stormy, especially directed at you. It quickly jumps to your ex however and focuses that torrent there.
"I don't know you," Croc states gruffly.
"I'm-"
"Your name doesn't matter," Croc interrupts. "What do you do? Why are you here?"
And thus begins the interrogation. You can only watch perplexed as Sir Croc tugs every bit of information he could want out of your ex, making sure to cut off anything he didn't care to hear. That frustrated look and tone become more bored by the second. Every tone tells your ex that they're barely worth the breath to speak, causing them to shrink even faster than Sir Croc's anger did.
You catch their eye and send them a sympathetic smile, and then Croc moves on to you.
"And you," he starts roughly. He lets you sit in suspense while he drags those hooded purple eyes from the crown of your head to the toes of your shoes and back. "Why are you here?"
You're taken absolutely aback by the question, mouth flapping from a mix of shock and offense. You have quite a list of things you keep your eye on at these parties; did he want you to go down the whole thing? After a deep breath, you try, "To gather informationof and from possible allies and help build relationships?"
"Wrong."
Well, at least he let you finish your sentence. Time to try again.
"To make sure the night runs smoothly," you say much more surely. It's an apt description of your overall job.
"Wrong again." Yep, that grimace is now definitely a smirk. One that only widens when you purse your lips and stare him down. You notice the genuine amusement shining in Croc's eyes and relax a touch, content to let him guide this to whatever destination he has planned.
"Then please, Sir, tell me," you relent. "Why am I here?"
He takes a deep puff of his cigar before pulling it from his lips and watching the smoke swirl out with his exhale. You watch it too - admire how handsome he looks reappearing through the haze. Enjoying how small you feel as he leans over you through its last remnants.
He rarely touches you with his golden hook, always using his hand (you've yet to realize it's because he prefers to feel you on his skin). Now, though, he raises it towards you. You're surprised yet again when the curve touches beneath your chin to tilt your face just a little higher; the metal isn't cold like you thought it would be. It must be warmed from resting on his thigh. You shake away the thought of warming it further.
He takes his time assessing you, giving you your own time to look over his breathtakingly chiseled face, admire his striking scar, forget everything else but his eyes on you.
Without intention, you gravitate towards him, leaning forward enough into him and that golden hook drawing you that you have to catch yourself with a stumbling step. The fond chuckle he gives in response resonates deep and rich and feels like a reward flowing over you.
"You, my dear," Sir Crocodile says with unfamiliar mirth, "are here to keep me happy."
"And how would you like me to do that, Sir?" you whisper back.
At first, that just earns you a smile. Then he's drawing his hook along your jaw, tickling the tip around your ear, drawing it gently across your cheek. It ends its journey on your lips, ever so gently pulling your bottom lip down before letting it flick back up when he draws his arm away. You watch the glimmering gold retreat. He's greedy for more of the longing he sees in your eyes. He leans slightly lower and gives you back that hook, this time in the form of an offered arm.
"With your company, of course," He finally answers. The warmth you hear in the drawl of his voice is beautiful.
You slip your hand into the crook of his arm, happy you can feel his body heat through the soft fabric of his shirt.
Halfway back to his previous spot, you realize that you'd become so distracted that you hadn't even said goodbye to your ex. You had wanted to exchange numbers, maybe truly get back in touch and feel out if things would be better this time. Noting how deep your draw to Croc is, you already feel that that would be a dead end. Well, maybe some time rekindling things would help your daydreaming and wishing for Sir Croc finally start ebbing away.
"Did you see where they went?"
Croc has to hold in his smile at your question. "They scurried off on you. It's for the best though; they were exceedingly unimpressive."
You couldn't help but snort at his assessment.
After guiding you to your chair and pushing it in, Croc settles down himself. When he reaches for his awaiting drink, he notices Daz Bonez come back into the room, wiping his hands off on his pants. Their eyes meet and Daz Bones gives a firm nod before heading back to his other duties for the night.
Sir Croc smirks and takes a heavy sip of scotch.
~ ~ ~ ••• ✦✦✦ ••• ~ ~ ~
There you are sweet anon, I hope you enjoyed and that it properly scratched the itch❣️ Thank you for the ask 🤍 Sending much love!!!
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Part of a little celebration
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parkerslatte · 5 months ago
Text
Uncertain Bonds
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Azriel x Fem!Reader
Word Count: 3.7k
Warnings: none
Summary: While posing as a couple at a high end event on a small kingdom the Night Court is supposed to make an alliance with, Y/N and Azriel uncover some shady business and need to act quickly to avoid getting caught.
Prompt(s): 4.Pretending to be in a relationship for a mission/ event. 31. "They're looking. Kiss me now." 16. Character A pushes B against a wall to kiss them. 29. “Do you think they bought the act?" "While I kissed you down your throat? They definitely did, honey."
A Court of Thorns and Roses Masterlist
•••
Azriel took a glass of wine from the serving table and brought it to his lips. He never took a sip as he surveyed the room. Everyone was dressed in extravagant gowns and danced around the room happily. So far, nothing seemed to be amiss. 
“You do realise that standing in a dark corner staring at people intensely may be a cause for concern, right?” Y/N said, sauntering up to Azriel. 
As he turned to look at her, Azriel felt himself become weak at the knees as he took her in. The dress she wore was one he has seen a couple of times before. She mainly wore it to Starfall or some other event. Though Azriel remembered her wearing it the day she bought it. That was the day the mating bond snapped for him. And it was the day he began to avoid Y/N. 
At first his avoidance wasn’t intentional. The first time he excused himself from her was just after the bond snapped and he was dealing with the shock of finding his mate. Someone he never thought he would find; he had never expected to find his mate within his best friend, the one he had loved for centuries. Everything overwhelmed him and the more he felt the bond, the more he unintentionally avoided Y/N. 
Up until he was asked to join her on her mission. 
“You know this isn’t the usual work I do,” Azriel said, taking a sip of his wine. Normally he would never drink while doing a job, but he couldn’t help himself. He needed it to help him relax in Y/N’s presence. 
“I know that, my love, but you need to relax tonight,” Y/N said, stepping closer to him, gently taking the glass of wine from his grasp. “Loosen up a little.”
Y/N took a sip before placing the glass down on the nearby table. She leaned up to whisper in Azriel’s ear. “If you don’t relax, people will begin to suspect.”
Y/N’s scent sent Azriel’s senses into overdrive as her perfume seemed to surround him. There was a small voice in the back of his mind telling him to wrap her up and take her right there in front of everyone, claim her as his own. Azriel knew that it was just the bond talking— the desire talking— but the image did cross his mind. 
Before Azriel even had the chance to say anything, Y/N pulled away and took Azriel’s hand in hers. “Now come and dance with your wife.” 
Oh, how Azriel wished that were true. 
Y/N led him onto the dance floor and positioned their arms herself. Azriel remained rigid as people surrounding them stared for a moment too long. Of course they did. After all, Azriel was the only one in the whole building who had a pair of wings sprouting from his back. 
Y/N giggled at Azriel’s rigid position. “You can relax a little more than that, Az.”
“I can’t,” Azriel replied. “We aren’t here to dance. We are here to do a job.”
A small frown appeared on Y/N’s face for a brief moment but it was gone and quickly replaced by an easy smile. “This is my job, Azriel.” Y/N began to slowly lead the dance. Azriel followed in step, though not as graceful as Y/N. “I don’t keep to the shadows and watch. I get involved and listen.”
“That is not how I do things,” Azriel replied
“No it’s not,” Y/N said. “But this is my mission, not yours. I am in charge.”
Azriel sighed. “I know. I don’t like feeling so exposed.”
Instead of the forced smile, Azriel saw that it was replaced by a small genuine smile. He felt his heart skip a beat. “I know,” she replied. “But you know that if anything were to go wrong, I will have your back and I know that you will have mine. That is the way it has always been.”
“And it always will be,” Azriel finished. 
Y/N’s eyes lit up and her grip tightened on him as they spun around the ballroom. “What happened to us, Az?”
Azriel frowned. “I’m not sure what you mean?”
For a split second, Y/N looked down at the floor between them and stumbled over her feet. Azriel quickly stopped and steadied her. 
“Perhaps your little girlfriend there should lay off of the wine,” a woman near the sneered as Y/N gently knocked into her. 
Azriel growled in her direction. The woman backed away quickly. 
“Az,” Y/N said, gaining his attention again. “Let us go to the side of the ballroom, perhaps it will be better for us.”
Azriel wrapped an arm around her waist and walked with her to the side of the ballroom, standing near another couple talking quietly to one another. As they neared them, the couple looked at the two as if studying both Y/N and Azriel. 
Azriel simply ignored them. 
“What I meant by my words, Az, was why haven’t we been as close over the past year? You have barely even looked in my direction and when we are alone you always find an excuse to cut out conversation short. You were meant to be my best friend, you seem to not want that anymore.”
No. Azriel didn’t want to be best friends anymore. He wanted so much more than that. He wanted to love Y/N freely. He wanted to kiss her. To hug her. To be with her every waking moment of the day. He was made to be with her. He wanted to be her mate. He wanted to be her husband. The ring on his finger used to keep up appearance felt so foreign but felt so right. The pair to it on Y/N’s finger. Azriel only wished it was real. 
All he wanted was her, but he couldn’t express that to her. 
“I do want that,” Azriel said. “I will always want that.”
“Then why have you been avoiding me?” Y/N questioned. “You even asked if Cassian could come on this mission instead.”
Azriel sighed and looked around the room. “Look, Y/N I will tell you—“
Azriel cut himself off as he noticed the couple they had stood next to secretly slip out of the room and through the servants passage. “That couple is gone.”
“You think there’s a possibility that they are who we’re after?” Y/N asked, suddenly switching to her professional mindset. 
“We were told that they were young,” Azriel said. “So far they seem like the ones who fit the description the most.” 
“Let me slip out first,” Y/N said. “Follow me after.”
As Y/N went to walk away, Azriel gently took her hand in his. “Be careful,” he said. 
Y/N offered him a small smile. “I always am.”
Y/N slipped away and Azriel watched her, sending a shadow to wrap around her arm to keep an eye on her. Even though he was going to catch up to her quite soon, he wanted a piece of him with her to make sure she would be okay. 
Y/N slipped out and Azrie remained by the wall for a few moments longer. No one else in the entire room seemed to pay any attention. Azriel slowly made his way out into the servants passage. Still there was no one looking his way. Azriel slipped into the passage. 
It was dimmer in the passage but the moment Azriel’s eyes found Y/N, his heart yearned for her. In the dim lighting, she seemed to shine as the light hit her jewellery and dress. She was the most beautiful being he had ever seen. She looked ethereal. 
“Az,” Y/N whispered. “They didn’t go too far. Come on.”
Azriel and Y/N walk a little further down the passage until they turn a corner. The passage opened up to the main hall just off from the ballroom. 
“They went through the door there,” Y/N whispered. 
The two stood just outside of the door, just about hearing what the two were discussing inside. 
“The funds are paid in full,” the female said. “There shouldn’t be a problem sending them though now.”
The male seemed to sigh. “Do you know how long I have waited for those funds? Do you know how long I have been lying to my father because you didn’t do your job properly and allowed someone to get away with the entire kingdom’s fortune.”
“These things take time!” The female exclaimed. “I had a hard time trying to track down the one who stole from you father.”
“Eight months,” the male replied. “It took you eight months. My father needed those funds. That court in Prythian has been questioning where all of their trade deals are. Do you know how much my father had lied because of what you did? He’s afraid it will cause a war and you know that we do not have the army to back us up. We barely have the funds because of you.”
“I’m sorry!” The female cried. 
“I take it we found the reason why all of the trade has stopped suddenly,” Y/N whispered. 
“But can we get back to where we were before all of this happened?” The female begged. “I love you!”
The male didn’t reply. “I don’t think that is a possibility. You have betrayed my father therefore you have betrayed me. You are lucky I am not banishing you for what you did.”
“Please!” The female cried. 
“No,” the male replied. “Anything that was between us is over. I will tell my father the truth of what happened and that he can now send his trade deals again. Be lucky that the court in Prythian decided not to send anyone here. You know their reputation.”
Footsteps approached the door and Azriel and Y/N began to panic. There was nowhere to hide. Azriel frantically looked around the hall and there was a small alcove. He wrapped his arm around Y/N’s waist and pulled her into it. Her back pressed tightly against his front. 
Azriel could feel all of her pressing against him. Her soft skin against his. The scent of her shampoo wafting up to his nose. The slope of her neck enticing Azriel to press his lips against it. 
The door opened and two footsteps came out onto the stone floor. Y/N held her breath and pressed her body further into Azriel’s. As she did so, her hand accidentally brushed the sensitive skin of his wing. Azriel jerked. 
A small vase to the side of Azriel fell from the ornate stone podium it sat on, cracking on the floor.
Everything stilled. 
“Who's there?” The male asked. 
Y/N turned around to look at Azriel, her eyes wide in panic. 
“I know your there,” the male said and Azriel realised that he had caught sight of the edge of his wings. 
Y/N, seemingly realising the same thing as Azriel whispered; “They’re looking. Kiss me now.”
“What?” Azriel whispered. He knew exactly what Y/N and said but he needed that second confirmation. 
“Kiss me,” Y/N said. 
Not wasting a moment longer, Azriel surged forward and pressed his lips against Y/N’s. They were just as he imagined. Soft, slightly sticky from her lip gloss, but Azriel didn’t care. He needed more. 
He spun the two around and pressed her against the wall kissing her even harder. Pressing his body against hers. His hand pressed between the wall and her head to not harm her. 
Y/N’s hands tangled in his hair, pulling at the strands. Azriel couldn’t help but moan deeply. Y/N only smiled against his lips. 
Azriel couldn’t get enough of her feel. He wished he could stay like this for eternity. He pulled away slightly. “Jump.”
Y/N did as he commanded and jumped up to wrap her legs around his hips. The slit in her dress made it easy. His hand found her thigh and squeezed it tightly before moving to her ass and it remained there. 
Azriel pressed his lips against hers, feeling himself harden in his trousers. The need to have her had taken over. 
His lips left Y/N’s lips and trailed down her neck, slightly nibbling the sensitive skin. 
“Az…” Y/N whined. 
Her hips seemed to move as she gained more friction. 
“You are so fucking beautiful,” Azriel panted against her skin, placing open mouthed kisses against the base of her throat. 
Azriel gripped her hair and pulled her head back, allowing him more access. Y/N only pulled on him in return. Azriel smirked against her neck. 
In their lust filled haze, Azriel and Y/N forgot about the two figures standing just behind them. The male cleared his throat. 
“Excuse me?” The male spoke up. 
Azriel felt as if he were doused in cold water as he pulled away from Y/N’s neck to look over his shoulder. 
“What?” Azrie growled, annoyed that he was interrupted. 
The female’s face was bright red as she looked between Y/N and Azriel. 
“I will return to the ballroom,” the female said, clearly flustered. She left rather quickly. 
The male remained, his eyes narrowed. 
Y/N smirked. “You can join us if you want? Sometimes it takes more than one male to satisfy me.”
Azriel’s hand squeezed Y/N’s ass possessively as the male simply scoffs and walks away. Neither Azriel nor Y/N moved until they were sure they were alone. 
“Do you think they bought the act?” Y/N asked. 
“When I kissed you down your throat? They definitely did, honey,” Azriel replied. 
Y/N laughed. “Back with the pet names? Perhaps I have my best friend back after all.”
Azriel smiled before it fell away. Best friend. What they just did was not what best friends do. But like Y/N said— it was just an act. 
 “Would you mind letting me down?” Y/N asked. 
“Oh,” Azriel said. “Of course.”
Y/N’s legs unwrapped from Azriel’s hips and he helped her to the floor. Her hands lingered for a brief moment but Azriel thought they imagined it. 
“Well we have our information now,” Y/N said. “Looks like there was nothing nefarious going on. Just someone not doing their job properly.”
“I don’t understand why the king didn’t write to Rhys,” Azriel said. “He would and helped.”
“Yes but a king admitting his fortune was stolen can cause a dent in his ego,” Y/N replied. “Looks like we are not needed here anymore.”
“Seems like it,” Azriel replied, a sense of disappointment washing over him at the fact that the fake rings on their fingers would be taken off the moment they returned home. 
“We paid for the room in the city for another two nights,” Y/N said. “It would be a shame if the money would go to waste. We could perhaps stay a little longer. Make a small holiday out of it.”
“But we need to report this to Rhys,” Azriel said. 
The disappointment was apparent on Y/N’s face. “You’re right. We should just pack and get back home.”
As she turned to walk down the hall, Azriel took her arm. “Or maybe we can stay for the extra two nights. We haven’t had a chance to look around yet.”
Y/N’s face lit up. “Are you being serious?”
Azriel smiled. He couldn’t help it, her joy was infectious. “Deadly.”
***
It was late at night and Azriel laid in his bed looking at the ceiling. Y/N was sitting by the fireplace reading a book. The room they had book was the last one available at the inn. And with only one bed it was even more of a predicament. 
For the two nights they had been here already, Y/N had slept in the armchair by the fire. Azriel had offered but he simply couldn’t get comfortable with his wings. Guiltily, he had taken the bed. And even then, the bed was simply too small. 
Azriel sat up and looked at Y/N. Her hair was simply tied back and hung down her back and her face was devoid of the gold makeup she had worn earlier in the day. She was wearing simple sleepwear and slippers on her feet. Even if she was beautiful back at the ballroom, she was even more beautiful now. 
Since they had returned to the inn, Azriel couldn’t stop thinking about their kiss in the hall. If they hadn’t been interrupted, what would have happened? Would he have told Y/N that he was her mate? Would he have confessed his love for her? Azriel wasn’t sure but he was sure that Y/N had enjoyed what had happened. 
He didn’t mention it to her but he could smell her arousal the whole time when they retired to the inn. The scent had gotten fainter as the night progressed but it still lingered in the air. 
Y/N turned the page as Azriel stood up from the bed. “I’m taking a walk.”
“Avoiding me again,” Y/N said. 
“What?” Azriel asked. 
“Don’t worry about it,” Y/N said. “I was only joking.”
The comment might have been a joke to Y/N but to Azriel it wasn’t. He was avoiding her. And he was avoiding his own feelings. Perhaps he should come clean. But there was that possibility that she would reject him. Azriel wasn’t sure he would be able to survive that. 
“Az, you were going for a—“
“I love you,” Azriel confessed and felt a large weight lift from his shoulders. 
Y/N laughed a little. “You don’t need to pretend right now. No one is here to see.”
“I’m not pretending, Y/N,” Azriel said. “I love you. I am in love with you.”
Y/N frowned and Azriel dreaded her response. This was the moment she rejected him. 
“Are you being serious, Az?” Y/N asked
“I am,” Azriel said. “I have been in love with you since the moment I met you, Y/N. That kiss earlier. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it. Feeling you pressed so close to me. Feeling your lips against mine. Hearing you moan my name. It is the only thing that has been on my mind since we left the palace. I don’t think I can keep my feelings a secret anymore.”
“Az,” Y/N began and Azrie prepared himself for the worst. 
“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it either,” Y/N admitted. “I’ve been sitting here reading for over an hour and I have managed about three pages. I cannot concentrate on anything that isn’t you.”
Azriel held onto that small bit of hope within him. “Why do you keep thinking about it?”
Y/N sighed, though it sounded happy. “I can’t stop thinking about it because I have been hoping to kiss you for many years now.”
“What?”
Y/N giggled and it was music to Azriel’s ears. “Your feelings are not one sided, Azriel.”
“Please say what you mean, Y/N. I need to hear it,” Azriel said, his voice breathless. 
“I love you, Az,” Y/N admitted. “I just never thought you returned those feelings because I believed you to be in love with Mor.”
Azriel let out a sigh of relief. “I stopped loving Mor centuries ago. In fact ever since you walked into my life I haven’t even thought about Mor at all. You are constantly on my mind, Y/N. You have a home in my mind and I can never rid myself of you even if I wanted to.”
“Why did you never tell me?” Y/N asked, standing from the settee and walking over to Azriel. “Why have you been avoiding me this past year?” Y/N gently caressed his cheek. 
“I never thought you were in love with me, I didn’t want to force my feelings upon you if you didn’t feel the same. I would rather be friends than lose you completely,” Azriel said. 
“But that doesn’t explain why you avoided me.” 
Azriel leaned into Y/N’s touch. Placing his hand over the one that resided on his cheek, pressing a soft kiss to her palm. “Feel it, Y/N. Allow yourself to feel it. Open yourself up to it.”
Y/N closed her eyes and it wasn’t long before Azriel felt a warmth flood his body. Y/N’s eyes snapped open, shock resided within them. 
“You’re my mate?” Y/N said. 
“Yes I am,” Azriel said. “The reason why I avoided you was because the bond snapped for me a year ago. I never thought I had a mate. I’ve been alive for centuries and I’d given up hope. But when it snapped for you, I was overwhelmed by it. At first I was happy but I didn’t think you returned my feelings so that is why I began to avoid you. I was always overwhelmed by you. Your scent. Your laugh. Your touch. I would have never been able to control myself. I never wanted to force my feelings upon you if you didn’t return them and I didn’t want you to only develop them because of the bond. If your ever loved me, I only wanted you to fall for me naturally.”
Y/N’s eyes softened. “And I did.” 
Azriel smiled. “And I am glad you did.”
“Az,” Y/N said. “Please just kiss me. I need to feel you again.”
Azriel took no time and pressed his lips against hers. It started out gentle but soon the hunger and the pull of the bond changed it into something different. Something feral. 
Y/N backed Azriel up to the bed and as he sat, she straddled his hips, pressing her core against him. Azriel groaned into her mouth. 
“Perhaps,” Y/N said, panting, “we should invite that male to join us.”
Azriel growled and flipped their positions. Y/N now spread out on the bed below him, her hair fanned out on the pillow. 
“You’re mine,” Azriel said, kissing across her jaw. 
“Good, I don’t want to be anyone else’s.”
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gay-dorito-dust · 8 months ago
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I wanna kiss HSR men on the forehead and tell them I’m proud of them. May I request some HCs of their reaction?
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Aventurine practically melts the moment your hands held his face with a warm tenderness as your thumbs softly caressed his cheeks, causing him to close his eyes and eagerly lean into your touch.
He could feel every ounce of love you had towards him in such a simple touch that he wondered how that could even be possible.
How easy you made it seem to be able to convey all your thoughts and feelings in something small like a touch of a hand, a brush of shoulders, or even a nudging of a foot; something that shouldn’t convey as much heavy emotions but did whenever you were the one performing those small gestures.
Not to mention that most of those small but impactful gestures were directed towards him made Aventurine wonder whatever could he -out of everyone else- have possibly done to even remotely deserving of any of it.
‘I’m proud of you Kakavasha.’ You said as you lifted a hand to push away his bangs and press a loving kiss to his forehead, making him whimper and press further against your lips, silently begging you for more. ‘I’m so proud of you.’ You add as you pressed another kiss to his forehead.
Such simple words and a peck to his forehead shouldn’t have so much effect over Aventurine but it did as his eyes shot open the moment he felt you pull away, looking at you with his pretty eyes with something you’ve never seen before as he muttered under his breath.
‘What was that?’ You then asked as Aventurine sighs, leaning back against the bed. ‘I said I wanted more…please can I have more.’
‘You can have as many as your heart desires.’ You tell him, pressing a third and a fourth kiss to his forehead as he allows himself to properly relax under your seemingly magical touch, letting kiss away his thoughts until only you remained.
Argenti would smile sweetly as he watched you push his bangs back to reveal his forehead, feeling your warm breath fan across his skin as your lips closed the distance between you as you pressed a tender kiss to his forehead.
‘I’m so proud of you Aregenti.’ You whispered but the cherry haired knight hear you clear as day.
‘Whatever for my beloved rose.’ He’d replied as he kept you close, wishing for nothing more than to commit this tender moment to his memory ever more.
You shrug. ‘Am I not allowed to say that I’m proud of you in general rather than say it after you’ve done something spectacular? Don’t that seem a little redundant?’ You asked as Argenti chuckled, bringing his face close and nudging his nose gently against your own.
‘It does indeed.’ He agrees before posing a question of his own. ‘But wouldn’t the words loose their meaning after a while if we were to say how proud we are of each other after everything?’
‘No.’ You answered without hesitation as you looked into his pretty eyes that you loved to see first thing in the mornings you’ve shared together thus far. ‘Not if they come from your lips they don’t. I don’t think I could ever grow tired if you were to tell me how proud of me you were.’ You admit and Argenti made a face.
‘Do I not do that enough already?’ He asks genuinely curious as you smile, kissing his cheek.
‘You do but at least let me return the favour now and then. I want to praise my beautiful knight more often than not.’ You murmured against his skin.
Argenti hums as he kisses your forehead. ‘You already do so just by smiling lovingly at me. I don’t need words of praise to fall from your lips when your actions speak far louder but if that’s what you wish, then it shall be granted my beloved rose.’
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Sunday
His wings would flutter when you kiss his forehead after a long day of preventing The Family from collapsing in on itself.
‘I’m so proud of you.’ You uttered into his ear, making him gasp as his wings would instinctively twitch at the sound of your voice due to their hyper sensitivity.
Then he would regain composure and smile graciously at you. ‘Thank you my beloved. It is truly a relief knowing that I’m doing right by you to earn your love and your praise, I shall not waste them.’
Sunday lives and breaths on your praises as though they were the only things giving him life. So whenever you do give him praise for anything, Sunday feels more and more validated into continuing whatever he was doing in hopes of earning more in the future.
You had a powerful, powerful man who had an innate need to prove himself to you in order to gain your trust, love and respect and won’t stop until he had it in droves.
All this was within him and locked behind a calm, cool and levelheaded facade.
He may not look like he was heavily affected by your actions and sweet words on the outside but internally his need to keep you happy and proud of him outweighed everything else as the happier you were, the less likely you were to attempt to leave him later on.
Boothill
He impatiently waits for the days where you bless his face with kisses and whatnot.
It’s his ultimate weakness and you knew that face very well whenever you watched as his cheeks went all flushed, making this shark teethed man looked about as harmless as a puppy dog, when in actuality he was anything but harmless.
‘I’m so proud of you.’
You had this man weak in the knees from that alone, but the fact that you went out of your way to press a kiss to his forehead oh so sweetly had him practically kneeling before you in worship.
‘Whatever for darling?’ He’d ask.
‘Just for being genuine yourself.’ You would response, kissing his forehead a second time and pulling back to watch as he smiled dopily.
‘If me just being myself is enough to earn me some forehead kisses and sweet praises from someone as sweet as you, then count me in sweetheart.’ He would then say as he practically melted he felt your hands as they held his face still as you kissed his forehead for a third time.
Boothill thrived off of your affection.
It was his personal drug that he could never get enough of.
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lacydollette · 2 months ago
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PLEASE I BEG YOU <3 Drew x Journalist Reader. Got this idea based off just seeing Drew having a short interview by a girl at the Newport beach event who was a bit nervous and asked him a question twice. Maybe you can base it off that. Reader is not the most confident, a bit shy snd awkward sometimes. She messes up for her short interview with him and feels so embarressed but Drew found it adorable since it just shows that she's human and ''real'' in a sense. Maybe Drew tries to lock eyes with her throughout the event, from him being on stage, standing in the audience listening to others, but she is like ¨''Ain't no way. It's just a coincidence ''.......but you know....he tries further to make contact
ALL EYES ON YOU ⸻ drew starkey
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a/n BIG YES!! I saw that interview too and it was just too cute not to write about, so this request definitely came in handy. So thank you.
warnings actor!drew x journalist!reader, reader is kinda awkward, drew being a sweetheart as usual, reader is in her mid 20’s, stangers to lovers kinda trope
The crowd buzzed with excitement as you stood near the edge of the red carpet, clutching your microphone and a notepad filled with carefully prepared questions. The premiere of Outer Banks Season 4 was a major event, and the energy was incredibly high.
The cast was expected to arrive any minute, and you felt your nerves getting the best of you at the thought of meeting Drew Starkey. Your Drew Starkey. Well, not exactly yours, but you'd been a fan for years, and he'd long since occupied a special place in your heart as your celebrity crush.
Taking a deep breath, you repeated your questions silently, hoping it would calm you. But just as you started to relax, you spotted him. Drew Starkey, looking effortlessly handsome and radiating that natural charm that seemed to captivate everyone around him. He was posing for photographers, his smile warm and his energy unmatched.
He felt good—excited, proud, and ready to talk about the new season. But he was also looking forward to something else tonight: connecting with people who genuinely loved the show. Sometimes, he missed that raw, unscripted connection during events like this.
'Come on, y/n. You can do this',
you reminded yourself. You usually felt so confident in these situations, but Drew seemed to have a unique effect on you, making you feel like a nervous wreck. Your cheeks were already heating up, and your heart beat faster as you raised a hand and gave him a small wave once he was finished with photos.
Drew spotted you and smiled, giving a nod before making his way over. There was something different about you. Drew grinned to himself, charmed by your genuine energy. Your mind raced, and you frantically tried to remember your opening question, but it seemed to have vanished as soon as he was close enough to hear you.
"Uh, hi! Drew... Starkey..." you stammered, mentally kicking yourself as your cheeks flushed even redder. Drew had to hold back a chuckle as you stammered. "Sorry, I—I mean, obviously you're Drew. So, uh, how—how does it feel to, um, be here?"
A small smile played on Drew's lips as he tilted his head, clearly amused and a little charmed. "It feels pretty amazing," he answered gently, giving you his full attention. "I think you might be the first person to be nervous to talk to me tonight, though."
You felt yourself relax, if only a bit. He didn't seem to mind your awkwardness, and his laid-back attitude made it easier for you to laugh at yourself. "I don't usually get this flustered," you admitted, "but, uh, meeting your favorite actor is a little... intimidating."
Drew's eyebrows lifted slightly. Favorite actor? He felt a warmth spread through him, more flattered than he'd expected, his blue eyes sparkling with adoration. "Well, now you're just making me feel special," he teased gently, leaning just a touch closer. "But don't worry, I'm not here to judge. Actually, it's refreshing to meet someone who isn't just asking the same scripted questions."
You couldn't help but smile at his words. He was down-to-earth and easygoing, making you feel at ease despite your earlier awkwardness. It almost felt like you were old friends catching up rather than journalist and actor.
"Okay," you said, determined to pull it together. "So, if you could sum up Season 4 in just three words, what would they be?"
Drew thought for a moment, letting his mind go back to the season they'd just wrapped. "Adventurous, intense... and wild," he said, grinning. "I think the fans are going to love it."
You nodded, managing to regain some of your confidence. "Thank you, Drew. And just so you know, Outer Banks fans will always be here for every wild ride you give us."
The way you said it, with that sincerity, had him smiling from ear to ear. "I'll keep that in mind," he said, meeting your eyes. "It's good to know there are people who care about the story as much as we do."
As he moved on, Drew felt lighter, the encounter lingering in his thoughts. There was something refreshing about you—authentic, unpolished, and kind. It was exactly the kind of conversation that reminded him why he loved doing what he did.
While he walked further away from you, you couldn't help but replay the interview with Drew in your mind as you drifted through the rest of the event. You had been a little starstruck, sure, but he'd been so warm and kind that it had made you feel strangely comfortable, almost like you'd got to know each other for more than just a few brief minutes.
And just like you had trouble forgetting about your encounter, Drew couldn't shake the memory of you either—the way your cheeks flushed, the slight tremble in your voice. Drew couldn't quite explain it, but there was something that pulled him back toward you, something he hadn't felt with anyone in a long time.
When he stepped up onto the stage with the rest of the Outer Banks cast, ready for the Q&A session, his gaze instinctively drifted back into the crowd, scanning the audience. Then he found you, standing off to the side with your notepad tucked under your arm, looking just as captivated as before. You were listening attentively to the panel, your attention fully on the cast—Drew was as charismatic as ever, grinning and laughing alongside his colleagues.
But several times, you could have sworn he was looking directly at you, but you brushed it off, refusing to entertain the thought that he might actually be looking at you. He's just scanning the crowd, you thought. There's no way he'd be singling me out.
Yet, each glance felt so intentional, his gaze warm and lingering. Each time you looked his way, Drew caught himself holding your gaze just a little longer than he should, his eyes following you with a subtle, warm curiosity, until you had to look away before you got lost in his eyes again. Still, you convinced yourself that you were being silly. There was no reason that Drew Starkey was staring at you.
But Drew was. He could see the way you tried to hide your reactions, the way you would quickly look away whenever your eyes met, almost as if you were embarrassed by the attention. He thought it was adorable. The more he saw you, the more he knew he wanted to get to know you better.
His gaze followed you even as he answered the crowd's questions, and the small, knowing smile he wore didn't go unnoticed by his co stars, who exchanged teasing glances with each other. They could sense something different about Drew's mood tonight.
After the Q&A ended, Drew made his way through the post-panel mingling, still keeping an eye out for you while you hung back. A couple of times, he seemed to be moving in your direction, and your heart thudded loudly. But then, just as quickly, someone would pull him away for a quick photo or handshake. You shook your head, convincing yourself it was nothing, just your own wishful thinking.
Eventually, you decided to call it a night, making your way out of the bustling venue with a small, satisfied smile. Meeting Drew had been more than you'd expected, a little moment you'd treasure, even if he'd likely never think of you again.
When Drew finally broke away, he glanced back to where you'd been standing, but you were gone, and his heart sank a little. He hadn't even gotten your last name or which media outlet you were with. All he knew was your first name and that undeniable connection he'd felt.
Drew had plenty of interactions with fans and journalists over the years, but there was something about you that was different, something he wasn't ready to let go of so easily. There had to be a way to reach out to you again, and he was determined to find it.
He could already picture himself talking to his publicist, describing you—the journalist with the kind smile, the one who didn't ask the usual questions. He would find you, he decided. He wasn't about to let this connection slip through his fingers.
The morning after the premiere, you arrived at work feeling the usual post-event exhaustion. Meeting Drew had been the highlight of your night, and although you'd convinced yourself he was just being friendly, your mind kept replaying the way his eyes had seemed to find yours in the crowd. But now, back in the real world, it was just a fun memory you'd carry with you as you returned to your daily routine.
You set down your coffee, flipped open your laptop, and began your morning tasks: drafting a few responses, diving into some research for your next article and sorting through emails. The office was buzzing as usual, your coworkers catching up on coffee breaks and deadlines. Just another ordinary day—until your eyes caught an email with an unknown addressee.
The message was short and to the point:
Hi y/n,
Drew's Team had a couple of follow-up questions about last night's interview. Would you mind getting in touch with us? The number is below if it's easier for you to reach us directly.
Your heart skipped as you read the last line over and over, your eyes glued to the phone number listed at the bottom of the email. Your hands trembled slightly, your mind racing with possibilities. You felt a small jolt of anxiety—had you messed up somehow? You told yourself to stay calm, to stay professional—but something told you this was more than just a follow-up. You quickly picked up your phone, dialing the number as you took a sip of coffee to calm your nerves.
The line rang a couple of times before a familiar voice answered on the other end, smooth and unmistakably warm. "Hello? Y/n? This is Drew."
You choked, your coffee going down the wrong way as you coughed in shock, barely managing to keep your composure. Drew? You hadn't expected this at all.
"Y/n? Are you okay?" he asked, a gentle laugh in his voice that only made your face heat up more.
"Y-yes! I'm fine," you stammered, quickly setting your coffee aside as you tried to regain your composure. "Sorry, I just—didn't realize it would be you answering."
Drew chuckled, sounding completely at ease. "Sorry about the surprise. I wasn't sure how to reach out to you and if you'd even pick up if you knew it was me," he teased lightly. "I just wanted to follow up about our conversation last night. And, well...I'm still around today, so I hoped we could grab a coffee later?"
Your heart raced, unable to believe this was happening. You managed to swallow back your surprise and keep your voice steady, even as a smile tugged at your lips. "I... I'd like that," you replied softly, realizing this conversation could lead to more than you'd ever imagined.
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cece693 · 3 months ago
Text
Bet (Klaus Mikaelson x M! Reader)
Summary: Thanks to your brothers, all you knew about the Mikaelson family was that they were dangerous and threatened your livelihood. However, when you're saved by the hybrid himself, he poses a bet to change your mind or be given insight into the cure.
link to part two
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You paced the old parlor of the Salvatore boarding house, frustration bubbling inside you like an unwelcome storm. Damon had been shouting in your ear again, his usual rant about the Mikaelsons’ supposed evil nature still echoing off the walls. He was adamant: the Originals were nothing but a death sentence waiting to happen, and you needed to steer clear of them.
Stefan, meanwhile, had taken his usual route, trying to appeal to your emotional side. He claimed your search for the cure was pointless, a dangerous fantasy you needed to abandon. His eyes had softened, his voice dropping to that earnest tone he reserved for when he was about to say something ‘profound.’
“It’s over,” he’d said. “What we did centuries ago, what happened to you…it was for the best. We’re a family now.”
You'd barely managed to stifle your scoff. A family, he said. Easy for him to preach about family when he and Damon had been content to let Katherine turn them. You, on the other hand, had been set to marry Emily, a kind-hearted girl from town. All that was ripped away when your brothers decided to drag you into their mess, condemning you to an eternity you never asked for. You had lost everything. You hadn't chosen this life; it had been forced upon you.
“Look, little brother,” Damon had warned earlier that night, his eyes darkening as they flickered to yours, a flash of genuine concern slipping past his usual bravado. “Stay away from Klaus. He’s not the kind of enemy you can afford to make.”
“Damon, I’m not stupid,” you’d retorted, rolling your eyes in exasperation. “I just want the cure. If Klaus has any knowledge of it, I’m not going to let your paranoid warnings stop me.”
And that was why you found yourself in the woods outside Mystic Falls, pursuing the rumor that Klaus was near. Your heart pounded, a mix of anger and hope driving you forward. That hope turned into a nightmare when one of Katherine's minions appeared out of nowhere, tackling you to the ground. The stake in his hand glinted in the sunlight, aiming straight for your heart.
You struggled, trying to push him off, but he was relentless. Just as you braced for the end, there was a blur of motion, and your assailant was suddenly torn away. You gasped, scrambling to your feet as you saw Klaus standing over the broken body of your attacker. His eyes were cold, yet his posture was relaxed, almost as if saving you had been a minor inconvenience.
"You—" your voice came out rough, disbelief dripping from every word, "you saved me?"
Klaus tilted his head, eyes dancing with amusement. "Don't sound so surprised, love. Surely you didn't think I'd let Katherine have all the fun."
Your pulse hammered in your chest, more out of confusion than fear. Klaus, of all people? The monster your brothers had warned you about? The hybrid who supposedly wanted nothing more than to tear the Salvatores apart? You glared at him, trying to ignore the nagging questions in your mind.
"Why?" you demanded, pushing yourself to stand straight despite the throbbing pain in your side. "Why would you help me?"
Klaus stepped closer, his eyes locking onto yours with a piercing intensity. "Because," he said softly, his voice dangerous and smooth, "I have plans for you."
You tensed, instincts flaring again, but something in his gaze held you captive. There was a softness, a flicker of something deeper beneath the cold exterior. "Plans?" you repeated, the word bitter on your tongue. "Like what, adding me to your collection of enemies? Using me against my brothers?"
He laughed, a low, rumbling sound that sent a shiver up your spine. "So much suspicion. Your brothers really have done a number on you, haven’t they?" He took another step closer, his presence commanding and overwhelming. "But I assure you, my intentions are far more…personal."
Your stomach twisted in knots, both from his words and the weight of your brothers' warnings ringing in your ears. Klaus Mikaelson is a monster. He’s dangerous. Don’t ever trust him.
But here he was. Standing before you, having just saved your life.
"You expect me to believe that?" you asked, your voice harsher than you intended. "That you’re just here to help out of the goodness of your heart?"
Klaus smiled, his lips curling with dark amusement. "No, I expect you to listen. I know what you’ve been searching for—the cure." You froze. He knew. Of course, he knew. Klaus always seemed to know everything. But this was different—this was something you had kept close, something personal, driven by a desperation to reclaim your humanity.
Your mouth went dry. "What do you know about it?" you asked, voice barely above a whisper.
"I know more than you think," Klaus replied smoothly, his eyes gleaming. "But that’s not something I’ll simply give away."
Of course, there was always a catch. You crossed your arms, defensive. "What do you want from me?"
"Simple," Klaus said, taking a final step until he was just inches from you, his voice low and measured. "Spend time with me. Get to know me and my family. Let me show you that we’re not the monsters your brothers make us out to be. If, after that, you still believe we’re nothing but dangerous beasts, I’ll tell you everything I know about the cure."
You scoffed. "So, what—this is some kind of bet?"
Klaus's smile turned predatory. "Call it a wager, if you prefer. If I can’t change your mind, you get what you want. But if I do…" His gaze flickered over you, something unreadable in his eyes. "Then you’ll owe me."
"That’s it? You’re not going to force me into anything?" You raised an eyebrow, your suspicion still very much alive.
Klaus chuckled darkly. "I don’t need to force anyone into anything, love. I think, deep down, you're already curious."
His confidence rattled you. But beneath the fear and doubt, there was a flicker of something else. A sense of intrigue. Curiosity. After all, hadn't you already begun questioning your brothers' stories? You hadn’t expected Klaus to be anything other than a brutal monster—and yet, here he was, offering you a chance.
After a moment, you sighed. "Fine, I’ll take your bet. But don’t expect this to be easy."
"I wouldn’t have it any other way."
What began as a begrudging agreement quickly spiraled into something far more complex. Klaus introduced you to his family, and to your surprise, they were far more than heartless killing machines.
Elijah’s calm, noble demeanor immediately stood out. He was nothing like the vicious killer you’d imagined. And Rebekah—though quick-tempered and prone to impulsiveness—had a genuine vulnerability that reminded you of Stefan in a strange way. They weren’t monsters; they were people. Complicated, dangerous people, yes, but not the soulless creatures Damon had described.
Klaus...Klaus was the most perplexing of all.
He was still terrifying, no doubt about it—his temper as quick as ever, a constant reminder of the danger lurking beneath his every move. Klaus’s control over any situation was absolute, as though the world bent to his will, daring not to defy him. And yet, there was something about him that gnawed at the edges of the image your brothers had painted.
It started subtly, at first. His gaze would linger on you a fraction too long, his eyes softening for a moment before the familiar steely mask snapped back into place. In those rare, unguarded moments, you felt something shift—a crack in his unyielding façade, a glimpse of the man he might have been before centuries of betrayal hardened him into the creature he had become.
And then there were the nights when you found yourself alone with him, often under the most unexpected circumstances. Once, after a particularly brutal fight with Damon, you returned to the mansion bruised and exhausted. You had expected Klaus to gloat or mock your weakness, but instead, he was there, his presence both commanding and unexpectedly gentle.
You stumbled into the grand foyer, wincing with every step as pain radiated through your battered body. Klaus emerged from the shadows, his eyes sharp with concern. Without a word, he guided you to a nearby settee, his hands surprisingly gentle as he helped you settle.
"You should be more careful," Klaus murmured, his voice low and almost tender. He knelt beside you, his fingers brushing lightly over the bruise on your bottom lip. His touch was meticulous, almost reverent, and the contrast between his harsh exterior and this tender care was jarring.
You met his gaze, searching for the ruthless hybrid you’d come to know. Instead, you saw a flicker of something softer, an emotion you couldn’t quite place. “I don’t understand you,” you said, wincing as your words caused the sore area of your lip to tighten. “Why keep me around if this is all a bet? Why show yourself like this if I’m to be a pawn in your game? Don’t deny it, I heard my brothers speaking about how you plan to use Elena to get rid of your curse.”
Klaus’s expression hardened for a moment, the mask of his usual confidence slipping just enough to reveal the hurt beneath. He took a deep breath, his gaze intense as he met your eyes. “You think of me as nothing more than a manipulator, but there’s more to this than you realize.” Standing up, you watched as Klaus turned his back to you, in an attempt to hide his weaknesses.
“I didn’t plan for this to be a game,” he said quietly, his voice carrying a trace of regret. “My initial interest in you was strategic, but it evolved into something far more complicated. Yes, I need Elena to break the curse, but that doesn’t mean my feelings for you are any less real.”
“I don’t know what to believe,” you admitted, your voice trembling slightly. “Your actions are so contradictory. One moment, you’re this ruthless hybrid, and the next, you’re kind. I can’t make sense of it.”
“I understand your confusion. It’s easier for people to see me as a monster because it suits their narrative. But the truth is rarely that clear." You wanted to look at Klaus, so with much bravery, you stood up from the settee and walked toward him. His back tensed, yet you stood in front of him, his blue eyes darkened with a mixture of frustration and sadness.
"They call me a monster, a villain. And maybe I am those things. But I’m more than that. I’m someone who cares about the people I choose to let in." His hand hesitantly went to your cheek, and you couldn't help but lean into the touch.
"And you’ve…chosen me?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.
A ghost of a smile touched Klaus’s lips. "Against my better judgment, yes. You’re unlike anyone I’ve ever met, and I’ve lived a long time."
The intensity in his eyes made your heart pound. You wanted to hate him, wanted to cling to the stories your brothers had fed you, but something had shifted. He wasn’t just some ancient monster; he was a man with desires, hopes, and wounds he kept hidden beneath layers of cold indifference.
"Then tell me," you challenged "Tell me the truth. Is there really a cure, or was this just some elaborate game to win me over?"
Klaus’s gaze darkened with an intensity that spoke of deep emotions. He took a moment, the silence stretching between you as if he was weighing his words carefully. “There is a cure,” he confessed, his voice grave and earnest. “And if you still want it, I’ll help you find it.”
You searched his eyes, looking for any hint of deception, but all you saw was an unfiltered sincerity that was both unsettling and reassuring. “And if I take it?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. “What then?”
Klaus’s expression grew somber, the lines on his face deepening with the weight of his emotions. “If you take it, you’ll be walking away from your brothers, this life…from me.”
The pain in his voice was palpable, but he didn’t try to mask it or push you towards any decision. There was no manipulation, no hidden agenda. It was a raw, honest confession from someone who had been playing a complex game but now laid his cards on the table.
You were taken aback by the contrast. If this had been Damon or Stefan, they would have tried to convince you to stay, to forget about the cure and remain by their side. They would have manipulated your feelings, used every trick they had to make you change your mind. But Klaus—Klaus was offering you the choice without trying to sway you. He was hurt, yes, but his respect for your autonomy was genuine.
“I… didn’t expect you to be so honest,” you said, your voice trembling slightly. “You’re willing to let me go, even if it means losing me?”
Klaus nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving yours. “I am. Because I understand what it means to desire something with every part of your being and to be willing to make sacrifices to achieve it. If the cure is what you truly want, then I will help you find it, even if it means saying goodbye.”
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hemmingsleclerc · 11 months ago
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Golden Globes ┃CL16
summary : where you go to the golden globes with your mystery bf and end up being an f1 driver
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The day had arrived, after weeks of anxiety, you were already dressed in ypur beautiful dress, with your makeup and hair done just waiting to leave. Your boyfriend was there with you, but you had both decided not to pose together on the red carpet, so it would just you. After you received the news that you had been nominated in the category of ''best supporting actress'' for your film ''Oppenheimer'' released that same year, you hadn't been able to sleep, you longed for that award after having given your all to that role.
The Golden Globes would be important, that day your boyfriend would accompany you and you couldn't ask for more. In fact, both had tried to keep your relationship as private as possible for the last two years, but at that moment it almost didn't matter to hide it from the public eye.
Arriving at the event, Y/N, adorned in a stunning floor-length dress, gracefully walked the red carpet, flashing smiles and waving to the adoring crowd.
ynupdates
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liked by 182,572 others
ynupdates Y/N has arrived to the golden globes looking stunning!
Inside the venue, the atmosphere was equally charged with emotion. You and your partner had already met and were both walking hand in hand.
The glitz and glamor of Hollywood's elite filled the room, and Y/N couldn't help but feel a flutter of nerves as she took her seat among the nominees.
As the night progressed, the tension in the room reached its peak when the "Best Supporting Actress" category was announced.
The presenter was reading the names of the nominees while a camera pointed at each one when the room fell silent. Y/N was gripping her boyfriend's hand tightly when the presenter said "And the golden globe goes to" and her heart raced when her name echoed through the auditorium. Her eyes widened in disbelief and she stood up from her seat, she gave her boyfriend a kiss and hugged several of her friends before heading to the stage.
While on stage, holding her award, Y/N began her acceptance speech with her voice shaking. She thanked the incredible team she had worked with on the film, acknowledging the director, her co-stars and her team. The audience burst into applause upon hearing her words.
Then, in a moment that was sure to garner attention on social media, Y/N took a deep breath and dropped a bombshell. "I also want to thank the love of my life, my rock and my biggest supporter ever," she said, drawing shocked faces from the crowd.
The camera panned to capture the surprised expressions on the faces of the audience. Speculation in the room intensified when Y/N continued: "Charles, my charlie, you have been my pillar of strength throughout this incredible journey. Thank you for being there for me through the good and difficult times."
Attention was focused on an elegant Charles Leclerc, sitting in the audience, with a proud smile adorning his face watching her. The revelation caused astonishment in the room and the crowd erupted in a mixture of applause, cheers and murmurs of surprise.
The cameras captured the genuine emotion on Y/N's face as she continued her heartfelt speech, expressing her love for Charles and how he had been the unwavering support she needed all those years. The audience, initially taken by surprise, eventually broke out into a standing ovation, celebrating the couple.
When Y/N left the stage, Charles greeted her with a big hug and a kiss telling her how proud he was of her.
ynln
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ynln What a night!!! thank u @goldenglobes !!!
and also thank u to my boy @charles_leclerc for holding me before I passed out from excitement.
username GIRL WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK!??!?!?!?!
username SINCE WHEN????????????
charles_leclerc beyond proud of you❤️
liked by ynln
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sicutpuella · 6 months ago
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Reddit User | Simon “Ghost” Riley
Her laptop developed an overheating issue and had to be sent to the repair shop. Consequently, she's been relying on Simon's laptop for work. Yet, when she noticed he had left a Reddit tab open, curiosity inevitably got the best of her.
User100889, that was his username. She felt a flutter of nerves as she scrolled through her boyfriend’s Reddit history. It was filled with the usual suspects — bodybuilding and gym subreddits, nothing too revealing. There were posts about tactical gear and tips on fixing flat tires; typical manly-man interests.
"Huh," she murmured to herself when she stumbled upon a subreddit he frequented: r/dating_advice. Huh, indeed.
Her eyes widened slightly, a small gasp escaping her lips as she noticed the title of a thread he'd commented on: ‘how to approach the girl I like.' 
Below the title, Simon's response lay there, simple and direct. "Just walk up to her and say hi."
The bluntness of his answer made her scoff softly. Typical Simon—never one for beating around the bush. She rolls her eyes. His comments on Reddit were always so direct, sometimes even poking fun at the users asking. Like that time he replied, “maybe because you’re ugly lad, just being honest.” 
God, he really had no filter…
She lets out a laugh as she scrolls through more of his comments. He’s brutal. Not mean or malicious, just painfully honest with a dry, dark sense of humor. Not surprising given his oh-so-charming personality.
Clicking on another thread, she begins to read through it. This one titled “How do you know if a girl likes you?” 
The OP described catching glances from a girl. Simon’s response is simple but cutting: "She's probably just being polite mate.” She snorts. She can practically hear his Mancunian accent in the words, can almost picture his expression as he typed out the response.
But then, a question emerged in a Reddit thread:
"Men of r/dating_advice, what’s one thing you love about your partner that they don’t know about?"
He responded, and surprisingly, his words carried pure love and warmth.
Her eyes widened as she read his heartfelt reply. It was sincere, devoid of his usual sarcasm or crudeness.
"I love the way she looks in the morning when she first wakes up. Her hair all tousled, her eyes sleepy and gentle. It’s the only time she lets herself be completely vulnerable, you know? I cherish being the one she feels safe enough to show that side to."
She stared at the screen, utterly taken aback. She had never expected him to reveal such a sweet, tender side. Then came another question. This time, his response was different—no sarcasm, no dry humor—just pure admiration.
OP asked, "Is she the one, lads?"
Simon’s reply was succinct and devoid of his usual wit or brashness. It was raw, unfiltered honesty.
"Yes, she’s the one. Knew it from the moment we met. There’s no one else for me."
Her heart skipped a beat as she absorbed his words, a warm, fuzzy feeling spreading through her chest.
OP: Men of Reddit, what’s your favorite thing about your partner?
His answer: "Her laugh. The way it’s kinda wheezy and she snorts when something really cracks her up. She’s got an amazing sense of humor. Watching movies with her feels like attending a comedy special."
She couldn't help but smile. The image was vivid in her mind: the two of them sprawled on the couch, watching an absurd action flick, her infectious laughter causing even Simon’s stoic demeanor to crack as he chuckled alongside her.
In a thread on r/dating_advice, OP poses the question: "Men, what advice would you give to others about long-term relationships?"
Simon's response resonates: "Be honest. Be genuine with your partner. Don’t play games, don’t hide your feelings. And for God’s sake, don’t try to fix a problem when she just needs you to listen. I learned that the hard way."
She can almost hear the wry chuckle in his voice. It reminds her of their first argument, when she felt frustrated that he wouldn't just listen... but he's learned since then.
Lost in the moment, she scrolls through countless threads, captivated by Simon's heartfelt responses. The man she once saw as all muscle and bravado reveals himself to be a softie at heart.
Engrossed in his comments, she misses the sound of the front door opening... the approaching footsteps slipping by unheard.
She's engrossed in his response to "So, are you gonna marry the woman you have now?"
"Already planning it. Just gotta work up the nerve to propose."
Suddenly, a deep voice startles her from behind. It's deep, gruff, and all too familiar. 
"See somethin’ you like, lass?"
"AH—FUCK!" she screams in surprise.
Simon can't contain his amusement. His towering figure leans against the door frame, arms crossed over his broad chest, a smug smirk playing on his lips.
"Find my little secrets?" he teases, nodding toward the laptop.
She rolls her eyes. He saunters over to where she's seated, casually leaning over her shoulder, his gaze scanning the screen. His closeness, his sheer size, makes her heart beat faster in her chest.
"So, find anything interesting, lass?" he drawls, his breath warm against her ear.
"You're so sappy, it's cute," she says with a smile that he adores.
He chuckles, a deep rumble that sends a shiver down her spine. "That's a new one. You think I'm cute? Cute. Not hot. Not handsome. Just cute."
Leaning in closer, his chest presses against her back, warmth radiating through their clothes.
She stands, embracing him. "So... I heard User100889 is pretty nervous about proposing..." Her pout and tapping finger betray her playful intent.
His grin widens as he wraps his strong arms around her waist, knowing exactly where she's leading.
"Oh yeah?" he feigns innocence. "And why's that?"
"Well..." she looks up at him coyly, her slender form against his solid frame. "He's afraid she might say no..."
"Sounds like he's shittin' himself a bit," he chuckles, eyes gleaming with amusement. He loves the mischief in her eyes, the softness in her teasing.
"He shouldn't be..." she purrs, fingers trailing lightly up his chest. "She loves him too much to say no."
His breath catches at her touch, heart racing. "Is that so?" His voice roughens.
"Mmhm..." she agrees, fingers tracing his shirt's edge, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath.
Close now, his body almost pins her to the wall. His eyes darken with desire and tenderness.
"What makes you so sure she'll say yes?" he whispers, his breath warm on her face, heart pounding.
"Because she loves him," she murmurs, fingers curling into his shirt. "She'd be a fool to say no."
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swiftiethatlovesf1 · 1 month ago
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Makeover
Heyy guys, I hope you enjoy this Max one-shot, if you want to read more stories of mine here's my masterlist.
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You sat cross-legged on Max's couch, rolling your eyes as he argued over the fit of his latest pair of skinny jeans. The conversation had veered from his undying loyalty to his closet staples to your mounting frustration with his predictable wardrobe.
“Max, I’m serious,” you said, leaning forward and poking his arm for emphasis. “I love you, but if I see those jeans one more time, I’m going to burn them.”
Max’s eyes widened with mock horror. “You wouldn’t dare.”
You raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk dancing on your lips. “Try me.”
A dramatic sigh escaped him, but the corners of his mouth quirked up in a smile. “Fine,” he muttered, running a hand through his unruly hair. “I’ll do it—but only because it’ll make you happy.”
The next day, you dragged Max into every fashion store Monaco had to offer. The montage that followed was a whirlwind of laughter and exasperation. Max tried on everything from sleek tailored trousers to bomber jackets in bold colors. You snapped pictures as he struck over-the-top model poses, nearly tipping over a rack of shirts in the process. When he emerged from the dressing room in a sharp suit that accentuated his broad shoulders, you couldn’t help but stare.
“Well?” he asked, giving a half-smile as he adjusted the collar. The deep blue of the jacket brought out his eyes in a way his Red Bull gear never had.
You grinned. “Perfect. You’re officially a fashion icon now.”
Max rolled his eyes, but his cheeks flushed a little. “I’m still not giving up my T-shirts,” he warned.
“We’ll see about that,” you teased.
Race day arrived, and the paddock buzzed with anticipation. Max stepped out of the car looking nothing like his usual self. Gone were the skinny jeans and snug team shirts. In their place was a confident figure in perfectly tailored clothing, drawing glances from fans and drivers alike.
“Wow, Verstappen, look at you!” Charles said, clapping him on the back.
“You’re making the rest of us look like slobs,” Lando added with a laugh.
Max smiled politely, but you noticed the way his shoulders tensed, the glint of unease in his eyes. He played along, accepting compliments with a nod and an awkward smile. Something gnawed at you as you watched him move through the crowd with a different air—confident, yes, but not quite... him.
As the day wore on, the realization hit you: this wasn’t your Maxie, the one who rolled out of bed with messy hair and a scowl until his first cup of coffee. The guy standing there was polished, put-together, and fit in seamlessly with the elite crowd, but he was missing something—the spark of authenticity that made him Max.
That evening, you found him sitting on the edge of the track, legs dangling and gaze lost in the distance.
“Hey,” you called softly, sitting beside him.
He glanced at you, the corners of his mouth lifting, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Did I do okay today?”
“You were great,” you admitted. “But… I miss your skinny jeans.”
Max let out a chuckle, the sound filling the quiet space. “You?”
“Yeah,” you whispered, resting your head on his shoulder. “They’re you. And I miss my Maxie.”
He turned to look at you, a warm, genuine smile breaking across his face. “You know, I only wore all this to make you happy.”
Your heart tightened, and you reached up to brush a strand of hair away from his face. “Max, you should never change who you are for anyone—not even me.”
“Thank God,” he said with a playful sigh of relief. “Because I was already planning on going back to my old clothes tomorrow.”
You laughed, the tension melting away, and before you knew it, he leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to your lips. It was soft, familiar, and full of all the things unsaid.
When he pulled back, he whispered, “Guess we’re stuck with the skinny jeans, huh?”
You smiled, eyes shining. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”
And in that moment, everything felt right again.
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0omillo0 · 4 months ago
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MODEL! HYUNJIN X FEM! MODEL! READER
autor’s note: hi! this is my first post, I hope you’ll like it!
warnings: none!! pure fluff
Hyunjin, a renowned Versace model and gifted artist, has grown used to the fast-paced world of fashion. But when Y/N, a new model, steps into the scene, her authenticity catches his eye. As their paths intertwine, Hyunjin finds himself drawn not just to her beauty, but to something deeper—especially when he discovers a personal connection to his art in her life.
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The lights above the runway glowed bright as you walked, your heart racing with every step. It was your first major show—Versace, no less—and the pressure of the fashion world felt like it was resting squarely on your shoulders. You kept your face composed, though. It was the life you had chosen, after all.
As you reached the end of the runway and struck your final pose, you caught a glimpse of someone standing backstage. Hwang Hyunjin. A name you had heard whispered many times, both in the modeling industry and beyond. He was already legendary as a Versace model—and as an artist. He stood with that ethereal grace, watching the runway with a calm confidence. His aura drew you in instantly.
Backstage, the models buzzed with excitement, but you found yourself scanning the room for Hyunjin. You weren’t sure why—maybe it was the effortless way he carried himself, or the way his expressive eyes seemed to speak without words. But there he was, standing near a rack of designer outfits, quietly sketching in a notebook.
He must have felt your gaze, because his eyes lifted from the page and met yours.
You blinked and quickly turned away, embarrassed to have been caught staring.
A moment later, you heard a voice behind you. “Nervous?”
Turning, you found yourself face-to-face with Hyunjin. His smile was small but warm, and it made your heart stutter. “A little,” you admitted, forcing yourself to breathe.
“You didn’t show it out there. You looked great.”
Your cheeks flushed. “Thanks. I wasn’t sure if I would survive that.”
He chuckled, his laughter soft and genuine. “We all feel that way at first. Trust me.”
You nodded, trying to keep your cool. “You were sketching something?”
“Oh,” he glanced down at the notebook in his hand, almost shyly, “yeah, just passing time. It’s nothing.”
“I bet it’s beautiful,” you said without thinking. His sketches were famous—everyone knew Hyunjin wasn’t just a model but an incredible artist. His works sold out faster than any runway show.
Hyunjin raised an eyebrow at your comment, looking a little surprised, but his smile grew just a bit wider. “Maybe one day you’ll see for yourself.”
---
Days turned into weeks, and as more Versace events brought you together, you and Hyunjin grew closer. What began as polite conversations evolved into genuine exchanges—talks about art, fashion, and life beyond the glitz and glamor. He was different from the others. Though he was breathtaking in every way, Hyunjin never acted like it. Instead, he carried himself with a quiet humility, a soul deeper than the world around him realized.
One evening, after a long day of fittings, you sat backstage, scrolling through your phone to relax. Hyunjin approached, as he often did these days, and sat beside you. His presence had become comforting.
"What are you looking at?" he asked curiously.
"Oh, nothing special," you said, not thinking much of it as you showed him your phone. But his eyes widened slightly when he saw your lock screen.
It was one of his paintings—a swirling combination of colors and emotion that you had seen in an exhibition once. You loved how raw and alive it felt, and you had put it as your wallpaper without realizing Hyunjin might ever see it.
"That’s... my painting," he said softly, his voice almost touched with disbelief.
You felt a sudden rush of heat rise to your face. "Oh my god, I—yeah, it is. I didn’t think you'd—uh, I really loved it. It just felt so... powerful. I hope that's not weird."
He stared at the screen for a long moment before meeting your eyes. His usual calm demeanor had shifted, and for the first time, you saw something vulnerable in his expression.
"It’s not weird," he murmured, his voice lower than usual. "It’s... actually really special."
His hand brushed against yours as he handed your phone back, and neither of you moved away. The air between you seemed to thicken with something unspoken.
"You know," Hyunjin began, his gaze dropping for a second before looking back up, "people don’t usually talk about my art like that. They just think of me as a model."
"I don’t," you said softly. "I think you’re an incredible artist."
Hyunjin looked at you like you had said something life-changing. His hand stayed close to yours, and you felt a magnetic pull between you, as if something deeper had just clicked into place.
"Thank you, Y/N," he whispered, his voice almost fragile. "I didn’t realize how much I needed to hear that."
---
As weeks passed, the connection between you and Hyunjin only deepened. The fashion shows continued, the flashing lights, the crowds, the interviews—but somehow, when you were with him, it all faded into the background.
He would seek you out between shoots, and you found yourself drawn to him in ways you couldn’t explain. His attention to detail, the way he viewed the world through an artistic lens, the kindness in his words—it made your heart race every time you saw him.
One evening, after a long day of rehearsals, the two of you found yourselves alone in the studio. Hyunjin was working on a painting in the corner while you sat nearby, watching him with quiet admiration. He glanced at you every so often, his eyes soft.
"Can I ask you something?" he said, breaking the silence.
"Of course."
"Why my painting?" he asked, his voice careful, but curious. "Out of all the art you could’ve chosen, why mine?"
You thought for a moment before answering. "Because it felt real. When I saw it, I felt something… like it was a piece of your soul. It wasn’t just a pretty picture—it had emotion, depth. I could see you in it."
Hyunjin stared at you for a long moment, something intense flickering in his gaze. He set his brush down and took a slow step closer.
"You saw me in it?" he repeated, his voice softer now, almost vulnerable.
"Yeah," you nodded, holding his gaze. "I did."
Hyunjin's breath hitched, and in that moment, something shifted between you. He reached out, gently taking your hand. His touch was warm, and his thumb brushed over your skin as if testing whether this was real.
"I see you too, Y/N," he whispered, his voice trembling with emotion. "More than you know."
You stared up at him, your heart pounding as he stepped closer. His face was inches from yours now, his gaze flickering down to your lips before meeting your eyes again. And in that quiet space, where words seemed unnecessary, Hyunjin leaned in, capturing your lips in a soft, lingering kiss.
The world faded away, and for a moment, there was only the two of you—two artists, two souls, finding each other in the midst of the chaos.
———
I hope you enjoyed this story! Requests are open!!
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vamptizm · 6 days ago
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PHOTOBOOTH — p. bueckers
summary — you tell paige that you love her for the first time, inside a photobooth (inspired by that tiktok trend)
pairing — paige bueckers x reader
genre — fluff fluff fluff
warnings — paige has a motorcycle lol. shitty writing.
note — this was written ages ago abt no one in particular tbh so don’t be surprised if it doesn’t live up to my usual writing i just feel like publishing this for whoever might wanna read it after the game lol
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it was an unusually calm and comfortable day at uconn. for once you didn’t have to deal with the usual mountain of problems on your shoulders or unbearably long practice hours. it was just perfect, in your opinion.
“can we go to the mall?”, you asked a relaxed paige who was sitting next to you on the sofa, with your legs thrown over her lap. paige’s thumb had been drawing shapes onto the exposed skin of your thighs while scrolling through her phone, as the side of your head leaned against the backrest, silently admiring her beautifully sculpted side profile, as if memorizing each angle and curve.
paige wasn’t exactly the biggest fan of crowded malls and going out on days off, — she preferred shopping online — so it only came to your surprise when the blonde nodded her head at your suggestion. “sure, baby.”
not wanting to ruin it for yourself with any questions, you smiled brightly and lifted yourself from off of her and the couch. standing straight in front of her, you held onto both of his hands to ‘pull’ her up. paige pretended to struggle in lifting herself up without your help.
“damn, ma. when did you get so strong?”, she teased you with a grin on her lips once she was standing on her own two feet.
you simply rolled your eyes in faux annoyance and proceeded to drag her out of the apartment and towards her motorcycle. back then, you had been deathly afraid of the vehicle that you liked to call a ‘death trap’, but after countless times of riding in the back of it with paige, you learned to trust the girl and her beloved motorcycle. you were her little backpack, as she liked to call it. you knew she would never let anything happen to you, especially since she insisted that you wear the helmet at all times, despite voicing your wishes of letting the wind blow through your hair and feeling it on your face.
after visiting countless of stores and with multiple bags held by your girlfriend, you gasped once you saw an empty photobooth. you happily dragged her towards it by the hand that was less full. paige hadn’t complained a single time, the smile on your face and the way your eyes sparkled whenever you bought something that you liked was like a reward to her, especially when she was the one buying it for you. it’s as if your constant protests of not wanting her to spend money on you, went in one ear and out the other.
the chair of the booth was small, so naturally you found yourself sitting on top of the girl’s lap as you faced the camera and waited for the countdown. what paige didnt know, is that you had something very important to tell her.
“don’t make ugly faces”, you jokingly warned her.
once the countdown had reached zero, the first pose you and paige did was a normal one. two cute and happy smiles for the camera, with the sides of your faces softly pressed up against each other and your arms wrapped around her neck, while her’s draped over your waist.
in the second photo, you turned your face towards paige and pressed a soft kiss on her cheek, causing the girl to smile wider than she had before.
before the click for the third picture went off, you leaned a bit closer towards paige’s ear. “i love you so much. did you know that?”, you softly whispered.
paige turned to you in disbelief, a look of genuine surprise on her face as she stared at you with a soft gaze and hearts in her eyes.
before the last click went off, paige gently wrapped his hand around your throat and pulled you in for a deep kiss, just in time for the camera to capture it.
“i love you more”.
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