#notice one going along the orange line

[chirpsythismorning]

Something something Willel twins.

[reyalvr]

RUMORS!

I KNOW YOU HEARD THE RUMORS, YOU MUST GET OVER TO IT RIGHT AWAY!

synopsis ┊ ken sato- a remarkable name in the world of modern baseball- has graced japan with not only his presence, but also his skills as a key player for the yomiuri giants. from press conferences to media endorsements, it’s clear that his stardom has only intensified from his recent move. but what happens when you, his personal assistant, are left to deal with some more… serious rumors?

genre ┊ chaotic fluff, oneshot

pairing ┊ ken sato x gn-PA!reader

warnings ┊ mild cursing, ami is not the reporter depicted!

word count ┊ 2.2k

author’s note ┊ hiya! i recently found time to watch ultraman: rising and this fic was just writing itself in my head hehe… happy reading! (p.s. yes… the title was inspired from the new minions song)

THREE MONTHS. That was how long you had known baseball’s darling, Ken Sato. And in those three months, you had undergone every single PR nightmare you had ever conjured up in your mind prior to pursuing your career. You had worked with celebrities before- doing God knows what ‘til the waking hour on their every beck and call. But Ken, despite presenting himself as a laid back man, was an entirely new… experience. 

From the Kaiju attack at his first game under the Giants, to the continuous streak of losses throughout the first half of the season, it seemed like the Gods were against you as you did your damndest to handle the damage control on his reputation. His ego didn’t aid you either- having to spin and twist multiple incidents to get reporters and media outlets off his back. You weren’t exactly sure what it was that kept you from quitting all in all, but the longer you worked under him, the thinner your thread seemed to snap. 

You huffed an annoyed sigh into the cold air, picking up the pace as you jogged along the designated path by the bay. Your days off were scarce- not because of Ken’s schedule, but because of your own decision to be up to date with his spontaneous actions. Despite the rarity of solitude, you always managed to savor your time off. The music played at a mellow volume in your ears, the morning sun starting to warm your surroundings as you watched its rays splash hues of orange across the sky. 

Your felt your watch beep against your skin, signaling the end of your morning run. Pausing by the railing, you leaned against the old metal bars as you checked your stats. You swiped absent-mindedly on the screen of your smartwatch, scrolling once you were sure that everything was in order. There was one thing that caught your eye, though, as you noticed the red notification bubbles on your message app were continuously going up. It was odd, yes, but not odd enough to be out of the ordinary- at least in your line of work. 

Deciding not to bombard yourself this early in the morning, you opted to give everything a once-over once you made it back to your apartment. Whatever it was could wait- you were on your time and your pace. Besides, it couldn’t be that bad. Could it now?

IT DEFINITELY COULD, AND IT DEFINITELY WAS. You pushed on the gas as hard as you could, your tongue poking into your cheek as you continued to drive to Ken’s house. Of all the days that he decided to make perhaps the stupidest decision in his career, he chose today. Doing your best not to see red, you dialed his phone once more. The ringing played throughout your car as you maneuvered through the roads, and you swore for what felt like the umpteenth time that morning when you heard the tone of his voice message. 

Hey, it’s Ken. Leave a message after the beep, and I’ll be more than happy to ignore it! Said his usual arrogant tone playing before the generic beep. You gripped the steering wheel harder, huffing angrily as you sharply turned a corner. 

“Kenji Sato answer your goddamn phone right now! I’m ten minutes away from your house and when I get there, I better not be greeted with your supposed secret love child!” You yelled, pushing the red button once you finished your message. 

Ah yes. The centerpoint of your current rage: Ken’s “leaked” one-on-one with a reporter about juggling baseball and his homelife. Someone on Ken’s staff had sent the article in your shared work group chat, and nearly all of his personnel had directly messaged you about the issue. It was inevitable for celebrities to get into a scandal once or twice, but one on this level would not be an easy fit to overcome. 

You don’t exactly remember what you were doing prior to receiving the messages- all you knew was that you needed to get to Ken as soon as possible. Of course it just be a misunderstanding, hell it could even be a hoax! But knowing Kenji, anything could be possible. You neared the hill of his private property, driving past the gates as the security recognized your car.

You parked haphazardly at the front of his house, your feet stomping into the gravel as you made your way to his front door. His estate had numerous smart tech installed throughout his home, so you knew that each and every one of your moves were either being recorded or observed. You crouched slightly to be in frame with the doorbell’s camera, your anger slightly toned down.

“Ken.” You paused to narrow your eyes. “Open the door.”

For the next minute and a half you swore you could hear some sort of clash and bang from inside the house. You kept your arms crossed, raising your eyebrow from time to time when the clashing seemed to grow louder. After what felt like an eternity, the front door opened slightly. Not all the way, but just enough for Ken to peek out and smile at you- albeit nervously cocky.

The nerve.

“Hey, [Y/N]! What uh- what are you doing here?” He manages to cough out, roughly combing a hand through his hair. “I thought it was your day o-”

“Save it.” You reply, your gaze sharp enough to slice through whatever excuse he had at the ready. You held up your phone then, the article’s headline prominently bolded:

OUT OF LEFT FIELD: Ken Sato Strikeout? Nope! Love Child Home Run!

Ken’s head bent down to get a good look at what you were showing him, and you watched carefully as his eyes scanned over the article not once, but thrice. You let out an impatient hum, your mouth forming into a slight scowl as the both of you stood in silence. With your head tilted to the side, you dropped your hand back down and crossed your arms. 

“Are you just gonna stand there or are you going to start explaining to me what the hell you’ve been up to these past twenty-four hours?” You question, moving past him as you enter the house. 

Usually you would wait for Ken to let you in, but stalling would only hinder you from coming up with what to do next. The article had already been up for two hours, and you halted any statements from being made before you could get an explanation from Ken himself. He quickly tailed after you, nearly stumbling over himself as you stopped at his kitchen. You gripped the marble countertop, closing your eyes momentarily before you turned to face him once more. 

“[Y/N] I swear, it’s not as bad as you think it is,” Ken says as he tries to add reassurance to his tone, but it doesn't mask the lingering tinge of falsehood.

“Oh, really?” You say, your eyebrows raised in disbelief. “Because in the span of two hours I have had thirty news outlets blowing up my- your management team for a response!”

He opens his mouth to speak, but stops again midway when you continue. “The headline I showed you was local. I want you to tell me exactly how and why you were on the phone with a reporter talking about your private life at God knows what hour. Now.”

You can see him swallow, licking his lips after as he tries to form the right words. He blinks a bit before pinching the bridge of his nose, tilting his head up as he lets out a deep sigh. When he opens his eyes he’s still greeted with your restive stance. Still he remains slightly hesitant, but he does end up recalling the remnants of his conversation with a reporter he had met at one of the parties he attended. Ken goes on to explain that he had only seeked out advice. His schedule, his personal life- he needed an outlet. You can feel yourself slowly untense, though you continued to listen to make sure all your facts were straight.

When he finishes his retelling, he puts his hands up slightly- as if he were trying to put you at ease. “I swear, that’s all I said. I thought,” He pauses, his brows furrowing in a way that made you slightly mad at yourself from blowing up at him. “I just thought I could have a normal conversation for once. ‘Guess I was wrong.”

The warm lights cast a sombre shadow on his features, and from this angle you notice the worn out expression painted on his face. The bags under his eyes are darker than usual, not to mention the fading bruises from his latest altercation with one of players from his opposing team. In front of you was not Ken Sato, this was Kenji; Simply a man who was thrust into a new life without the needed support. 

“Well, no shit.” You say, finally breaking the silence, you fix your posture against the counter as you tone down the anger in your voice. “Jesus Ken, sometimes I wonder how you were able to maintain your career before me.”

At that he lets out a soft laugh, his dull expression slowly fading. “Yeah, I do too.”

You give him a puzzled look before you reply. “Are you mocking me?”

“No! No, I was being serious.” He says, his smile dropping slightly. “I know I haven’t been an easy task, hell you’re here on your day off for Christ’s sake.” 

You hum at his words, narrowing your eyes slightly as you push yourself off the counter with another awkward cough. In all ninety days of working under Ken Sato, never has the man gotten this sentimental with you. You decide not to linger on his words, your attention going back to the problem at hand. 

“Right, well,” You sigh, whipping your phone out in the process. “I need you to give me the name of that reporter. I’ll get the legal team to draft an NDA breach.” 

He furrowed his eyebrows then, looking at you as if you’d said something odd. “I didn’t make him sign an NDA though?”

You only give him a smile, a hint of confidence plastered on your lips. “I know. I have my ways, Sato.”

“You’re a pretty good assistant, then.” He replies, the corners of his lips going up slightly as he keeps his arms crossed. 

“I’m an excellent assistant.” You correct without looking at him, your fingers tapping away at your phone as you prepare the next steps of your plan. 

Ken can only chuckle in agreement, tapping his fingers on his forearm as he awaits your next set of instructions. Within the next twenty minutes you’ve sent out the necessary details to your team, your legs kicking as you sit on one of his bar stools. He’s stood across from you, leaning on the countertop looking at you intently as you explain the response plan. 

“And lastly,” You say, sliding out your hand. “Give me your phone.”

 His head tilts, the same confused expression on his face. “Why?”

“Just do it,” Your hand curls, motioning for him to hand his phone over. “No, I am not installing a monitor.” You add when you see his mouth open to interrogate you. 

He slides his phone over with a defeated huff, and you open a new contact page on his contacts. “If you need to talk, do it with someone who won’t leak your shit.” You say, sliding back his phone when all your details are settled.

“I have your number though, don’t I?” Ken questions, looking over at the number you inputted. 

“You had my work number. Now you have my personal phone.” You point your finger at him before continuing. “Don’t abuse it. I’m still your assistant.” “Wasn’t gonna, sweetheart.” He says, an amused smirk mixing in with his addled look. 

You quirk your eyebrow at the nickname. You shake your head, hopping off the stool as you make your way back to the front door. Ken follows behind you, hands in his pockets as he watches you leave. Before you can open the door though, you look back at him one last time. 

“I mean it, Ken.” You say, making sure it gets through his head. “You have a problem, tell me. You need a solution, you tell me.”

“I know, I know.” He gives you a tight-lipped smile, nodding towards the door. “Go enjoy the rest of your day off before I start thinking you care about me.”

“I do. It’s my job to care about you, Ken.” You reply, giving him a look before you open the door. “Whether you like it or not, I’m your lifeline. At least until you get rid of me, which won’t be happening for a good while.”

“Oh yeah?” He jests, his cocky demeanor slowly coming back. “‘You so sure about that?”

“Extremely sure.” You’re standing outside now, slowly walking backwards. “Twenty minutes ago people thought you had a secret love child and that you were a terrible father. Now you’re back on the face of KFC as baseball’s darling.” 

He’s taken aback. Was he actually booted off of his collaborations? He hastily checked his phone, scrolling through all his platforms. To his surprise, he was greeted with… his usual feeds. No sight of the article, no lingering gossip. His ads had doubled, his partnerships boosted on the products he had endorsed. He looked back up to say something, but you had already started your car. You backed out his estate, giving him a smile through the tinted glass of your windshield. 

He let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. You were right. But who was he kidding?

You always were.

[moonstruckme]

I don’t know if you currently accept requests but if you do could you write something with Spence where reader isn’t really a touchy kind of person and the team goes out for drinks, r gets drunk and is super touchy with Spencer and he is so flustered but secretly loves it?

If not don’t worry about it<3

Thank you for requesting angel <3

cw: alcohol

Spencer Reid x bau!reader ♡ 759 words

“Dave,” Prentiss says firmly, “I’ve got it.” 

“No, you got it last time.” Rossi’s trying to put his credit card down on the tab the waiter left, but Prentiss blocks him with a hand. “Let me take this one.” 

“I don’t care which of them gets it,” you say near Spencer’s ear. “Just glad it’s not me.” He laughs. 

Luckily, you’re not loud enough for anyone to hear but him. You’ve become surprisingly mumbly after a few drinks, imparting your observations and witticisms to Spencer alone, your cheek on his shoulder. Surprisingly tactile, too. 

“What are you doing?” he asks as you trace the creases spanning the insides of his fingers. He doesn’t think you’re doing anything really, drunk enough to be susceptible to whims and mindless fiddling, but Spencer likes to hear you talk. 

You make a muted humming sound. “Reading your finger lines.”

“You mean my palm lines?” 

“No, I mean your finger ones. I’m inventing a new science.” 

Spencer smiles. The tip of your nose is touching the knit of his cardigan, he wonders if it itches. You might not notice, though, with the way you’re so concentrated on his hand. Your lashes shadow your eyes like heavy clouds. 

“You know,” says Spencer, “there’s been some disagreement among biologists about palm lines. They’re called palmar flexion creases, and while it’s largely agreed upon that they form before birth to allow freedom of movement without stretching the skin on our hands, some also think that certain lines can indicate certain medical conditions.” 

“Huh.” You trace your finger down to his palm. “So, sort of like telling the future.” 

“Well, modern medical practitioners can usually identify those conditions early after birth anyway—but sure, if you want to think about it that way.” 

“That’s okay, I’m not that invested in palm line science anyway.” 

You say it placidly, even though you’re not moving away, like nothing is really all that important so long as you’re touching him. The dim, orange bulbs of the lamps in the bar cast shadows under your lashes and in the dip of your cupid’s bow.

Your finger keeps moving absently, past Spencer’s wrist until you’re nudging up his shirtsleeve. “You have really nice forearms,” you murmur. 

Spencer’s skin prickles with a blush. He takes your hand away in an effort to deter you, but you only go along with the deviation, linking your fingers through his. He glances at Garcia, relieved when she’s not looking. Just last week, she’d asked Spencer and Morgan if you secretly didn’t like her. 

I tried to give her a hug, she’d said, pouting confusedly, and she went as stiff as a board. It was the worst rejection I’ve had since high school.

Morgan had laughed. Not everyone is as warm and fuzzy as you are, babygirl. Don’t take it personal. She’s just not the touchy type.

You feel for Spencer’s other hand under the table, seeking to add it to your collection. He gives it over to avoid a fuss. 

On the other end of the table, Rossi seems to have successfully paid the bill. 

“Okay.” He gets up with a sigh, grabbing his coat. “I will see you kids tomorrow.” 

“Bright and early,” JJ agrees with joking weariness. 

As your team starts to get up, say goodbye, and (in Garcia’s case) hurriedly slurp up the remainders of their drinks, Spencer gives your fingers a tentative squeeze. 

“Time to go,” he tells you. 

You sigh heavily, warm breath permeating his cardigan. “Okay. I guess.” 

Spencer’s not entirely sure where your reluctance is coming from—if he were you, he’d be eager for his bed—but you stand without complaint, immediately looping your arm through Spencer’s and leaning comfortably against his side. 

Morgan raises his eyebrows. “Need some help there, pretty boy?” 

“That’s okay.” It’s out before Spencer can think it through, and heat comes to his face when Morgan’s lips lift with a knowing grin. 

Thankfully, Hotch spares him any elaboration. “I can take her home.” He’s watching you severely, the way a strict parent looks at their teenager before reluctantly getting them ibuprofen and a glass of water for the next morning. “She can’t drive.” 

“That’s okay,” Spencer says again. “I can drive her.” 

Hotch’s face is impassive, but Spencer can tell he’s not overly surprised. “Are you sure? I live closer than you do.” 

“I’m sure.” Again, his face heats at what he knows his answer is revealing. But Spencer looks down at you, contented and half asleep against his side, and it’s worth it. “I don’t mind.”

[ellecdc]

Heyyy! I’m usually a silent tumblr warrior but omg I keep coming up with so many different Au’s in my head. 🙈 Also I love your writing it’s godsent. 😏

Tonight I was thinking of Model!Reader x photographer!Remus 😖💔. Who are like totally obsessed with each other and are always supporting their careers. Remmy getting sooo many candid photos of reader and using them in his portfolio. Along with them both going to each others viewings/ runway shows. I just can’t omg so many possibilities ..🥲

~🪼

this is so. stinking. cute. the second I received this I had to send it to @maladaptiveescapism (my muggle AU queen who gifted us all the beautiful, beautiful man that is chef!sirius) and she came up with the SWEETEST meet cute. thank you for sharing this prompt, lovie!! I hope I did it justice <3

Remus Lupin x fem!reader who ends up being Remus' big break [2.6k words]

CW: fluff, swearing, reader has a dog and he's adorable, meet cute, fame

Remus needn’t look in a mirror (or one of the windows of the shops on the street) to know that his nose was pink; he had always been very sensitive to the cold, and it was only exacerbated by his love for it.

It was his favourite time of year; waking up in the morning when the ground was still covered in shimmery frost before turning into a misty fog as the sun poked its way through trees and buildings. The trees and grass were still grasping desperately at the shades of greens that it usually wore, but the leaves - determined in their journey - insisted on turning various shades of oranges, yellows, reds, and browns.

Remus loved them. 

He also found that people were perhaps their most beautiful when cold - he hardly ever left for his morning walks without his camera, which also meant he left for his morning walks without a pair of mittens or gloves which might impede his ability to control the lens and shutter - and there was something about the cool air that brought out the most beautiful colours in not only the trees, but also of the people. 

And Remus yearned to capture it.

He’d found a beautiful elderly man enjoying a mocha outside a small coffee shop who he chatted with for a while before he asked him if he’d be okay to take some pictures. Every crinkle near the corners of his eyes was evidence of laughter and joy, every wrinkle between his brow a testament to years of consideration and thought, every divot around his mouth was a story he shared, a kiss he gave, a meal he enjoyed. 

Every deep line on the man’s face - Albus had been his name - told a story, and Remus was lucky enough to have captured even a fraction of it with his camera. 

Remus’ fingers were struggling to thaw out in his pockets as he took the long way home - traversing through the quiet park in the centre of the city which was slowly becoming more lively as the morning wore on and the sun rose higher, though it was still quiet enough for Remus to enjoy. 

Some days he had more luck than others, not because there was a lack of beautiful people - because there was surely no shortage of that - but rather nothing that inspired Remus to create. 

Some days it frustrated him, and some days he was able to remind himself he was really doing this for fun and not being paid for his portraits save what small income he made through creator perks on various social media platforms. 

How nice it would be to get paid for his portraits, though. 

Remus had paused in his walk to bend over and pick up a disposable coffee cup from the sidewalk to put it in a rubbish bin when he spotted the perfect picture. 

There was a wrought-iron and wooden slat park bench a few paces away from the footpath in the park sitting in a lone ray of sun that managed to force its way through the treetops as if some deity had placed a spotlight on it to ensure Remus would notice it.

The patch of grass that the sun was kissing was melting into its usual green whilst the grass surrounding it was still its unique combination of dark sage, green, and silver courtesy of the autumn twilight.

A senior looking dog - a border collie, if Remus guessed correctly - attached to a simple red lead seemed to have found himself a good stick for chewing as he basked in the sun, the lead looped gently around the wrist of his person who sat on the bench with a ratty looking paperback in their hand. 

You were ethereal. 

You had one hand shoved into a knitted mitten whilst the other held your book, though a second mitten sat ready should you no doubt decide your free hand was too cold and needed to switch. You had multiple layers on and a comfy pair of shoes. Clearly out for a walk yet knowing that your dog did less walking now-a-days and spent more time in sunny spots with a nice stick, you came prepared with a novel to enjoy the transitionary season much the same way Remus did. 

And you were stunning.

You looked like a sip of warm apple cider, like the trees had parted their branches just to give the sun somewhere to direct its warmth and light, like the sun came out only for the chance of seeing you.

Remus actually took a look around him to see if anyone else was seeing what he was - nothing short of a masterpiece - but the masses appeared wholly unaware that they were in the presence of something hallowed. 

He lost his nerve more times than he could count as he tried to convince his boots to take him in your direction, to start up the conversation the same way he always did with every other stranger he stopped on the street to take their picture. But this felt different, you were different, you-

…were looking over at him; your dog ceasing to chew on his stick in favour of staring intently at Remus alerting you to the fact that you had an admirer (at best, or a stalker at worst).

To avoid looking like the latter, Remus forced his feet to bring him to you, smiling at you as you marked your place in your book and closed it before offering him a wary smile of your own. 

“Pardon me, I’m terribly sorry to intrude, but, erm, well-” sodding son of a bitch, stick to the script, “my name is Remus and I’m a street photographer, I uhm, I take portraits of people I pass on the street and post them to my socials.” He offered awkwardly as he pulled out his phone - numb fingers nearly dropping it as he raced to try to prove to you he wasn’t some creep with a long-distance lens on his camera hanging around public parks - wincing as the end of his sentence lilted up in the form of a question. 

“I couldn’t help but notice you and your dog, here,” he pushed on, said dog still watching him carefully and tilting his head at the end of every one of his sentences, “and you look beautiful- or, rather, it makes a beautiful picture! I, well, I guess I was wondering if you’d mind if…I took your picture?”

And by some absolute twist of fate, you had the good graces to simply smile at him like he wasn’t some awkward bumbling fool which only served to make you even more beautiful as you handed him his phone back.

“That’s really cool, Remus,” you offered, sounding as though you were testing how his name felt forming from your lips as you made eye contact with him, “thank you. I’d be happy to be your model.”

“Brilliant.” Remus let out with a breath of relief. “Now are you and…” he paused as he gestured toward your companion. 

“Ziggy.”

“...Ziggy a package deal or should I ask him his rates?” 

You let out a bubbly laugh which encouraged Ziggy to sit up - albeit slowly due to his age - and cock his head at you. 

“What do you say, Ziggs?” You asked the canine who cocked its head the other way. “Do you want to model too?” 

As if the dog knew you were waiting for a response, he let out a polite bark before laying back down. 

“Well there you have it, Remus; we’re all yours.” 

The picture returned to its previous perfection; between you returning to your novel sans one mitten and Ziggy’s focus back to his treasure, Remus was able to capture you exactly how he wanted. You were wearing a soft smile which only grew when Remus nearly bumped into a jogger in an attempt to get a different angle. 

You held your book to your mouth to hide your laughing as he called a hasty apology to the girl who barely slowed down on his account, and he shot a cute picture of you like that, too; your eyes full of mirth and crinkling at the corners in a quiet laugh at his expense. 

Remus was infatuated. 

It felt blasphemous in some way, but Remus had to admit he was very chuffed to have an excuse to join you on your alter bench, pretending as though you leaning into him - for warmth or for a better view of his camera screen, he wasn’t sure - didn’t make him feel like his heart was trying to exit out of his throat as you sung your praises for the pictures. 

“Remus.” You hissed as if you really couldn’t believe your eyes. “These are really good! Oh my god…”

Remus chuckled awkwardly as you brought the camera closer to you, ultimately forcing Remus to breathe your air as the camera strap pulled his body closer to yours. 

“You’re very talented.” You added earnestly  before looking up at him with something akin to awe. “Do you have a portfolio?”

“Erm, well,” he mumbled, suddenly very aware that he was nearly on top of a relative stranger in this public park at about 8:30 in the morning, “I…sort of? I mean, I have my socials.”

You nodded at him and looked back down at his camera before passing it back to him. “Are you going to post these?” 

“I’d very much like to, if you’re okay with that?” 

“Please do.” You agreed readily. “Do you tag people in your portraits?”

Remus nearly snickered as he thought of Albus this morning who seemed completely perplexed by the phone in Remus’ hand let alone by the concept of social media. “Sometimes; not everyone I photograph is online. Would you like to be tagged?”

“Yes please.” You beamed at him; Remus’ fingers itched to lift his camera back up to capture you like this, too. Fuck, you were beautiful. “My mum’s always saying she doesn’t have nearly enough pictures of me.”

“Well we can’t have that.” Remus chuckled as he pulled out his phone and opened the notes app so you could add your Instagram handle. 

“It was very nice meeting you, Remus.” You offered, and Remus felt something close to shock at how truly sincere you sounded. “You should be charging people for that.” You added, gesturing to the camera hanging from his neck. 

“I could always start now.” He offered in jest, and he was rewarded again by your bubbling laugh; Remus felt nearly torn at having to leave, every shift of your face and expression begging to be photographed, and every muscle in his body begging to do the photographing. 

But when he offered you a smile and a slightly awkward wave as he walked away  - the sound of your laugh still  echoing in his mind - he wondered if maybe, in some universe out there, there was a version of him that got to commit every expression that crossed your face - to memory or film, either would suffice. 

𓆱𓇢𓆸𓆱𓇣𓆱𓇢𓆸𓆱𓇣𓆱

The following day, Remus couldn’t escape the office meeting quick enough; his phone buzzing incessantly the last twenty five minutes of the forty five minute planning session - that he was supposed to be taking dutiful notes throughout - burning a hole through his trouser pocket and into the muscle of his thigh. 

35 missed calls from Sirius.

12 missed calls from James

Sirius: answer the fucking phone, you sod!!

Sirius: when the fuck did you take these!?!? (4 attachments)

Sirius: Lupin I STG

James: Lily is freaking out!!! Did you get an autograph??

James: who am I kidding. You had no idea, did you?

“What the fuck…” Remus murmured under his breath as he scrolled through the notifications on his lock screen, blushing something fierce when a coworker brushed past him reminding him he was supposed to be being professional which generally meant not swearing. 

The second Remus stepped onto the pavement outside of his building, his phone started ringing again. 

“What the fuck is going on?” He answered instead of saying ‘hello, Sirius; alright?’. 

“What the fuck is going on!?” Sirius barked back. “How about you tell me when the fuck you met Y/N L/N!?” 

Remus felt his eyebrows cinch as he pulled his phone from his face when another text came in. 

Lily: I’m so fucking jealous right now!

Lily: also, I should probably say congrats; I’m sure this is going to be great for your career!

“Remus!”

“Christ, Sirius, I’m here.” Remus muttered as he brought the phone back to his ear. “But I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

“Son of a bitch.” Sirius muttered on the other end of the line. “The pictures you posted yesterday!”

“Of the man? Or-”

“The bird! Remus! Y/N L/N!”

Remus suddenly realised why the name sounded familiar; it had been your instagram handle.

“Oh! Do you know her?”

“Do I know her? Mate, she’s fucking famous.”

“What?”

“She’s a sodding model! She’s been in Sports Illustrated, walked in New York Fashion Week and Paris Fashion Week, she was in a music video recently; fuck who was the artist…”

“Wha- what the fuck? How did I not know this?” Remus asked dumbly. 

“God, you’re thick. Did you not notice the fucking blue checkmark next to her name on instagram when you tagged her?” 

Remus was so glad Sirius couldn’t see him right now; he always felt properly chastised when it was Sirius handing his ass to him, but this felt bigger somehow. 

“Well… I don’t know, I’m verified too but that doesn’t mean anyone knows me!” He argued half-heartedly; he really hadn’t noticed…

Sirius snorted. “Yeah well, everyone’s gonna know you now, mate.”

“What do you mean?” Remus asked sternly.

“I mean” Sirius started theatrically “that she’s shared your original post to her story and posted your pictures to her page and tagged you as the photographer. She only posted it two hours ago and it already has almost 70,000 likes. Have you not looked at instagram?”

“Sirius, I work in a fucking corporate office, I can’t be on my phone all of the time.” He spat rather petulantly. 

“Bully for you.” Sirius muttered in response. “Check now then.”

Remus stole himself as he closed the call screen that simply consisted of a terrible picture of Sirius before opening up instagram. 

The notification tab simply read 100+, but when he moved to view his profile he realised he had gained nearly 10,000 followers just since leaving for work this morning. 

“Jesus…” Remus breathed out slowly. 

“You might want to put a portfolio together, mate.” Sirius offered, tone still slightly teasing, though the edges were softer and Sirius’ pride was nearly palpable even through the phone. “This might finally be your big break.”

All because Remus had noticed you - a beautiful girl - in the park with a book and a dog sitting in a lone ray of sun that managed to force its way through the treetops… as if some deity placed a spotlight on it to ensure Remus would notice. 

And of course he noticed you; how could he not?

I'd be happy to be your model. Do you have a portfolio? You should be charging people for that.

This might finally be your big break. 

Little did either of you know that you would end up being Remus’ big break.

[littlelamy]

crossing the line part 2

the following weeks felt like a blur. rafe had pulled back, avoiding you like the plague. he stayed close to sofia, their relationship seeming stronger than ever while you watched from the sidelines, heart heavy with the weight of unspoken words. you’d often find yourself wondering if that night had ever really happened, or if it had been a figment of your imagination—a fleeting moment that crumbled under the harsh light of reality.

but every time you saw rafe, that spark ignited all over again, pulling you in like a moth to a flame. you couldn't shake the feeling that he was just as torn as you were. the glances he threw your way still held that familiar heat, the unfulfilled promise of what could have been.

one saturday evening, you found yourself at the beach bonfire with your friends, a welcome distraction from your racing thoughts. the salty breeze whipped your hair around, mingling with the sound of laughter and music as the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink. but even surrounded by friends, you felt a familiar ache in your chest.

as you roasted marshmallows, your eyes drifted toward rafe, who was sitting too close to sofia, his arm casually draped around her shoulder. she giggled at something he said, and the warmth of the fire couldn’t compete with the chill that settled over you.

“hey, you okay?” jj asked, noticing your distant expression. he nudged you with his elbow, pulling you back to the moment.

“yeah, i’m fine,” you replied, forcing a smile.

“right. just enjoying the view, huh?” he winked, following your gaze.

you sighed, shaking your head. “it’s whatever. just tired of the same old thing, i guess.”

“want to go for a walk? clear your head?” he suggested, always the one to sense when someone needed a break.

you nodded, grateful for the chance to escape the awkwardness. as you walked along the beach, the sound of the waves crashing against the shore filled the silence between you.

“rafe still got you feeling some type of way?” jj asked, glancing over at you with a teasing smile.

you rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the smile that crept onto your face. “i don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“right, because I can totally tell you don’t want to punch him in the face for being a jerk.”

“he’s not a jerk,” you argued weakly, but the words fell flat even to your own ears. “i mean, he is… but he’s complicated.”

jj chuckled, shaking his head. “complicated, huh? sounds like a disaster waiting to happen.”

you sighed, your heart feeling heavy again. “it just sucks, you know? i thought we had something real, but now… it’s like I don’t even exist to him.”

“hey,” jj said, stopping to face you. “you’re worth more than whatever games he’s playing. don’t let him mess with your head.”

you nodded, grateful for his words, but they only provided temporary relief. as the night wore on, the laughter and chatter began to fade into the background, and your thoughts turned back to rafe and sofia.

later, you found yourself walking back toward the bonfire, heart racing as you caught sight of rafe standing alone, staring into the flames. you hesitated, debating whether to approach him or just keep walking. but before you could make a decision, he looked up, his gaze locking onto yours.

“hey,” he said, his voice soft, almost hesitant.

“hey,” you replied, your pulse quickening.

“can we talk?”

you swallowed hard, caught off guard by the intensity in his eyes. “yeah, sure.”

he stepped away from the fire, leading you a little further down the beach, away from prying eyes and ears. the air was thick with unspoken words, and you could feel the tension crackling between you, making it hard to breathe.

“i’ve been meaning to talk to you,” rafe started, running a hand through his hair. “about… everything.”

you nodded, trying to keep your expression neutral, but inside, your heart raced. “okay.”

“i know i’ve been distant. and i didn’t mean to push you away, but I was confused. sofia and i… it’s complicated.”

“yeah, I get that,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady. “but you don’t have to explain anything to me. i get it, rafe. I really do.”

“no, you don’t,” he said, stepping closer, his eyes intense. “you don’t get how much i’ve thought about you since that night. how much I’ve wanted to reach out but felt like i couldn’t.”

your breath caught in your throat as your heart raced. “then why didn’t you?”

“because i didn’t want to hurt you,” he said, his voice dropping to a whisper. “but I can’t stop thinking about what we had. it’s like I’m trapped between two worlds.”

“rafe…”

“just give me a chance,” he pleaded, taking another step closer, closing the distance between you. “i want to figure this out. i want to be with you.”

the world around you faded as your heart soared at his words. but doubt crept in, a whisper of caution in the back of your mind. “what about sofia? you’re with her.”

“i know,” he said, frustration etched across his features. “but i don’t want to be, im planning to break up with her as soon as i get home, but more importantly i want you….all of you”

in that moment, it felt like everything hung in the balance. you could take a step forward and give in to the feelings you’d tried to bury, or you could pull back and protect yourself from the inevitable fallout.

but as you looked into rafe’s eyes, filled with something raw and real, you felt the pull too strong to resist.

“okay,” you whispered, your heart racing. “let’s figure it out.”

his eyes lit up with a mix of relief and something deeper as he stepped even closer, his breath brushing against your skin. and in that instant, as he leaned in, you knew you were crossing a line, but for the first time in a long while, it felt like the right decision.

you closed the gap, your lips meeting his in a kiss that ignited the fire within you. his hands found their way to your waist, pulling you against him, as if trying to fuse your bodies together. the kiss deepened, hunger and urgency flooding through you both as the world around faded away.

you pressed against him, the heat of his body igniting a spark that sent shivers down your spine. you could feel the tension building, the desperation of all those unspoken words pouring into this single moment. his fingers tangled in your hair, tilting your head back as he explored your mouth with a fervor that made your knees weak.

“God, i’ve missed this,” he murmured against your lips, breathless.

you gasped, your heart pounding. “me too.”

he pulled back slightly, searching your eyes for confirmation, then kissed you again—deeper this time, as if he couldn’t get enough. you melted into him, feeling his strong arms encircle you, grounding you even as the world spun around you.

the taste of him was intoxicating, and you felt a low hum of desire ripple through your body. you could feel the tension in his grip, the need that mirrored your own, as if you both were afraid to let go. it was reckless, but in that moment, nothing else mattered—just the two of you lost in the heat of the moment.

“let’s go somewhere,” Rafe whispered, his breath hot against your ear, sending another wave of shivers through you.

“somewhere?” you echoed, heart racing with possibilities.

he nodded, his eyes darkening with intensity. “somewhere we can be alone.”

the urgency in his voice made your heart race faster. you knew it was reckless to abandon the group, to slip away with him, but the pull was too strong to resist. you nodded, and before you could think twice, he took your hand and led you away from the bonfire, the distant laughter fading behind you.

as you walked, the cool night air enveloped you, but the heat radiating between you was undeniable. rafe led you to a secluded spot behind a cluster of palm trees, away from the flickering light of the bonfire.

when you reached the privacy of the shadows, he pushed you gently against the rough bark of a tree, his lips crashing against yours once more. the kiss was frantic, wild—fueled by all the pent-up frustration and longing that had simmered between you for weeks.

his hands roamed your body, exploring every curve, igniting a fire within you that left you breathless. you moaned softly into the kiss, fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer as you lost yourself in him.

“rafe,” you gasped, breaking the kiss to catch your breath.

“yeah?” he replied, his voice husky, eyes dark with desire.

“what if someone sees us?” you whispered, glancing back toward the bonfire.

“let them,” he said, his lips curling into a smirk. “i don’t care. i just want you, princess.”

his words sent a thrill through you, and with that, he captured your lips again, kissing you with a passion that made your heart race. you melted against him, surrendering to the moment as you wrapped your legs around his waist, feeling the heat radiating from his body.

you could feel the urgency in his movements, the way his hands gripped your thighs.

as rafe pressed his lips against yours, the kiss ignited a wildfire deep within you. it was electric, a combination of urgency and tenderness that made your heart race. you could feel the heat radiating off him, his body so close to yours that it felt like the world had shrunk to just the two of you. his hands slid down to your waist, fingers digging in just enough to make you gasp against his mouth.

“God, you taste amazing,” he murmured, his breath hot against your skin as he trailed kisses down your neck, each touch sending shivers of anticipation coursing through you. you could feel the tension building in your core, an ache that begged for release.

“rafe,” you breathed, your voice a soft plea. you wanted him—needed him. the words felt desperate and raw, but you didn’t care. the chemistry between you was undeniable, an all-consuming fire that threatened to engulf you both.

he pulled back slightly to look at you, his eyes dark and filled with desire. “are you sure about this?” he asked, his voice low, almost a growl. the weight of his question hung in the air, mingling with the salty breeze that surrounded you.

“more than anything,” you replied, your heart pounding as you gazed into his eyes. there was no turning back, and you didn’t want to.

with a sudden intensity, he captured your lips again, the kiss turning frantic as he pressed his body against yours, pinning you against the soft, cool sand. the sensation was overwhelming; every thrust of his tongue against yours ignited every nerve ending in your body. you moaned softly, your hands tangling in his hair, pulling him closer as if you could meld into one.

“damn,” he groaned, his voice low and rough, sending a thrill down your spine. his hands wandered, exploring the curves of your body, fingers brushing against your sides before sliding up under your shirt. you gasped as his warm hands made contact with your skin, the sensation electric.

“rafe,” you breathed, your body arching into his touch, craving more. the way he looked at you made you feel beautiful, desired in a way that was intoxicating. “don’t stop.”

he pushed your shirt up and over your head, the fabric discarded carelessly, and his gaze swept over your bare skin, a mix of awe and hunger lighting up his eyes. “im sorry for hurting you, baby,” he breathed, his hands grazing your sides, down your waist, teasingly brushing against the swell of your breasts.

your breath hitched in your throat as he leaned down, capturing one nipple between his lips, his tongue swirling around it in a way that made your entire body hum with pleasure. you arched your back, pressing against him as you moaned, the sound escaping your lips unbidden.

“God, rafe,” you gasped, fingers tightening in his hair, urging him closer. you were dizzy with desire, the heat pooling low in your belly, begging for release.

he switched sides, lavishing attention on your other breast, and you could feel the heat building inside you, a desperate need that was becoming impossible to ignore. you tugged at his hair, pulling him back up to your lips, desperate for more of him.

“take me,” you whispered, the words slipping out before you could think. “i want you—now.”

the raw need in your voice seemed to ignite something primal in him. rafe looked down at you, his expression a mix of lust and determination. “you have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,” he growled, his voice thick with need.

with a swift motion, he positioned his cock at your entrance, his gaze locked onto yours as he slowly pushed inside. you gasped, the sensation overwhelming as he filled you completely. the stretch felt delicious, and you could feel every inch of him as he sunk deeper, your body instinctively accommodating him.

“fuck,” he hissed, his head dropping back as he lost himself in the feeling. “you’re so tight.” the words sent a shiver of pleasure coursing through you, amplifying the ache already building within.

“rafe, please,” you begged, your voice a soft plea. “move.”

he complied, pulling back slightly before thrusting into you again, each movement deliberate and intoxicating. you could feel the tension building with each thrust, the way he filled you sending shockwaves of pleasure radiating through your entire being.

“you’re incredible,” he breathed, his voice strained as he picked up the pace. the sound of skin meeting skin echoed in the quiet night, a primal symphony that only heightened the intensity of the moment.

as he drove deeper into you, your body responded instinctively, tightening around him, urging him on. “yes, just like that,” you gasped, every thrust pushing you closer to the edge, the pressure building dangerously close to the edge.

“tell me what you want,” he urged, his voice rough and low, breath coming in heavy pants. the way he looked at you, filled with raw need, made your heart race even faster.

“i want you to make me feel good,” you replied, the words spilling from your lips as the desire inside you surged. “i want to feel you—everything.”

with a growl, he surged forward, thrusting into you harder, deeper, the sound of your bodies colliding filling the air. each movement sent you spiraling further into ecstasy, the pressure building dangerously close to the edge.

“fuck, I’m so close,” he groaned, his body tense as he moved against you. “you’re so perfect, so fucking perfect.”

“me too,” you gasped, your breath hitching as the sensation began to overwhelm you, your body tightening around him in a desperate plea for release. “i need to—”

“let go,” he urged, his voice thick with urgency as he thrust into you again, and that was it. the tension snapped, and you were thrown over the edge, pleasure washing over you in a wave so intense it made you cry out.

“rafe!” you screamed his name, the sound echoing into the night as your body convulsed around him, pleasure exploding from deep within. you could feel him follow right behind you, the warmth of his release spilling inside you as he thrust one last time, a deep growl escaping his lips.

as the world slowly came back into focus, you lay there, bodies entwined, the aftermath of your passionate encounter lingering in the air like a sweet perfume. your heart raced, and you felt a mix of exhilaration and uncertainty wash over you. what had just happened felt both exhilarating and terrifying.

but rafe wasn’t done with you yet. He shifted beside you, looking down at you with a playful smirk. “i'm going to take care of you, baby” he said, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

before you could respond, he slid down your body, leaving a trail of hot kisses along your skin, igniting your senses all over again. your breath quickened as he moved lower, his hands parting your thighs gently, exposing you to him. “just relax,” he murmured, his voice thick with intent.

he didn’t waste any time. rafe dove in, his mouth kissing its way up your inner thighs before finally finding your puffy lips. the moment his tongue made contact, you gasped, your back arching off the sand as a wave of pleasure coursed through you.

“rafe,” you moaned, the sound escaping your lips as his mouth worked magic, swirling and teasing, taking his time to explore every inch of you. he was relentless, a delicious combination of slow and intense, sending shockwaves through your entire being.

“you taste so good,” he groaned against you, sending vibrations through your core that made you squirm. “i could stay here all night.”

“please, don’t stop,” you begged, your fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer, desperate for more. the sensations were overwhelming, each flick of his tongue sending you spiraling higher and higher, your body responding instinctively to his every move.

“you need to let go,” he murmured, looking up at you, his eyes dark with desire. “i need you to feel good.”

with that, he focused on your most sensitive spots, his tongue working in perfect rhythm, drawing you closer to the edge once again. the tension built within you, the waves of pleasure crashing over you in tidal waves. you could feel it coming, the need for release swelling until you could hardly breathe.

“rafe, i’m so close,” you gasped, your body trembling with anticipation.

“let go, baby,” he urged, his voice a seductive whisper as he continued to pleasure you, his tongue driving you wild.

with a cry of his name, you fell over the edge, the world exploding into a thousand pieces as pleasure consumed you. you could feel his mouth still working on you, coaxing every last bit of ecstasy from your body, until you were left breathless and trembling, a blissful haze enveloping you.

he slowly crawled back up your body, his gaze intense, and you could see the satisfaction in his eyes as he nestled beside you. “see? I told you, i could make it up for you,” he teased, brushing a strand of hair away from your face.

as you lay there, the cool breeze wrapping around you both, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you had stepped into a new chapter of your life—one that would be filled with passion, challenges, and perhaps even love.

part 2 taglist: @namelesslosers @princessslutt @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @starkeysprincess @sixrosberg @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0 @ietss @theeternaloptimistt @katekells @arluna @dinakisser @heartsforrafecam

[b14augrana]

The End Of The World

Alexia isn’t well post-breakup

Alexia Putellas x reader

masterlist

Warnings: angst, mutual breakup, yearning and heartbroken alexia, no happy ending

A/N: listen to the song for max effect! ‘right where you left me’ is another good one that fits this story. this is only a short fic, but i hope you enjoy :)

You and Alexia breaking up was for the best. She knows that.

Her career is demanding, and you just weren’t willing to pursue that lifestyle yet; it was glamorous, being the girlfriend of a professional footballer, but it also meant there were rarely any opportunities to spend quality time with her and that wasn’t the relationship you wanted. She understands that.

So why does it hurt worse than ending on bad terms? Actually, that’s a stupid question. Alexia knows why it hurts. If she had a reason to hate you, it would be easier to move on, but she cannot think of a single thing worth hating you for.

That’s what she hates the most — the lack of cruelty, toxicity, infidelity behind the breakup. There isn’t a single proper reason for her to stop yearning for you.

The first week after the breakup, she finds herself seeking out any signs of you wherever she could. It hurts, and she doesn’t have an excuse or a reason. She swore that your perfume lingered in the air, following her, taunting her. Whenever someone walks past, she notices; everyone smells like oranges, earth, and incense. Everyone smells like you.

On every street, there is something of yours. A mural you posed in front of for a photo, a flower bush you once pointed out on a walk because the budding flora stood out to you, a restaurant you introduced Alexia to without knowing it would quickly become her favourite. She sees apparitions of you in places that you would’ve been in right now, if you were still here. Still with her. Still part of her life.

Everything seems pointless and from the moment you declare the love story of her life to be over, Alexia thinks that everything should cease to exist. Why does the sun shine through the gaps in her curtains, when you aren’t laying beside her in the mornings to compliment it? Why does her heart continue to beat, when it cannot be listened to on sleepless nights, with your head on her chest?

Nobody works up the courage to ask her what’s wrong when she walks into the gym with dull under eyes and little to no energy in her movements. Alexia’s signature enthusiasm to be in the gym and improving herself is gone, and her teammates only look on with inconclusive questions as to why their captain is so… different. She watches them go on with their lives like nothing ever happened, and she’s so offended and bitter. They’re completely unaware that the end is here, at least for Alexia. The world has been at its inevitable end for longer than they know — the world ended when you stopped loving her.

Alexia isn’t one for letters, so it’s incredible that she finds herself sitting at her dining table, hunched over at an ungodly hour, scrawling words in her best handwriting onto a piece of paper.

She seals it in an envelope, running her thumb along the smooth surface for a second. She still knows your address by heart, and despite your house being much like a prison for her in terms of trying to avoid it at all costs, she finds herself navigating streets and turning corners to end up there.

Alexia passes a bookstore, and in the short moment she stands in front of it, she recalls standing in between aisles with you while you chose a book to buy. Clothing shops line the roads, and she can point out shirts in their windows that you own. A restaurant sits on the corner of the street, and she can point out the table you two had eaten breakfast, lunch, and dinner at…

But she can point something else out — you.

You’re there, in the window, sitting at the table in the same seat you always chose. It makes her wonder if those memories were lost on you. Magazine in one hand, tea in the other. She knows it’s tea, because you hate coffee.

Alexia becomes acutely aware of the letter in her hand, and her plans have changed.

When a waitress comes up to your table with a little white envelope in hand, explaining that someone had just come into the restaurant and asked her to give it to you, you’re confused. When you unfold the letter and read it, whatever you’re feeling is inexplicable.

‘Mi querido,

I probably shouldn’t be calling you ‘mi querido’, or writing this letter in the first place, but I’m afraid I won’t be able to live with myself if I don’t tell you how much I love you one more time. I cannot imagine a life where being happy and being without you are able to coexist. If I knew that my career would’ve been the end of us, I would’ve traded my first love for my forever love, in a heartbeat.

Sincerely yours…

Your head lifts and you crane to look out of the window. Streaks of blonde hair disappear down the street, further than you can see from your seat.

…Alexia.’

[surielstea]

Beg For It

1k celebration request

Pairing: Azriel x Fem!Reader (mafia au)

Summary: Reader is ovulating, enough said.

Warnings: Smut | minors dni | p in v | no foreplay | unprotected sex | heavy breeding kink | allusion to pregnancy | petnames (baby, sweet girl, brat) | bondage (shadows) | no plot, just smut.

2.4k words

I don't know what it was exactly that was wrong with me. I wasn't normally this clingy but for some reason, all I could think about was my very dangerous, very busy husband. He was all I wanted as of late, and if I didn't constantly have my hands on him I think I would collapse.

"Baby, I have to go to work," Azriel sighs, stumbling towards the door as I latch to his waist, draping over him and making him drag me along with him.

"Don't want you to," I whine, tightening my hold.

"Love," He sighed, stopping our game of push and pull, and rather turning to face me. I look up at him with a pout to my lips and his eyes soften, his hands coming up to my jaw. "My pretty girl," He admires, his thumbs rubbing over the tops of my cheeks. "What's gotten into you, hm?" He tilts his head and I shrug mischievously, knowing damn well what was making me so needy. "Tell me," He encourages and my frown deepens.

"I'm ovulating," I grumble and he smirks.

"Oh yeah?" He says, his voice dropping and I groan, playfully hitting his chest in a futile attempt to get him to stop teasing.

"Stop, you know what that does to me," I say and he chuckles, catching my wrists to stop me from pummeling him anymore.

"My poor baby," He hums as I wrap my arms around his torso rather than punch him and stuff my face into his chest, unable to get close enough.

"Don't pity me," I huff.

"Then what is it you'd like me to do?"

"Stay," I mutter. "Please, you can spend all day filling me," I attempt to coerce but he seems unwavering.

"You're insatiable," He grumbles, his hands meeting my hips.

"It's your fault," I huff into his chest, his expensive cologne enveloping me.

"Yeah? How so baby?" He said, pulling away to look at my expression, my brows crinkled with an evident pout painting my lips.

"You know how," I cross my arms defensively.

"I don't think I do, use your voice hun," He encourages and I curse, looking at him with a defeated expression.

"You and your pretty words get me all bothered and you know it," I confess and he smirks.

"Do they?" He leaned closer and I groaned, pushing him away and stomping down the hallway.

"Whatever, just go to work already," I grumbled, crossing my arms over my chest.

"Aw, don't be like that." Arms wrap around my waist and pull me into a chest. "It's alright baby, just say you want me," He hums, kissing down my neck, making me clench my legs together.

"Az," I sigh, my hand coming to his cheek. "You have to go to work." I push him away by the face but he twists out of the position so he is in front of me once again, blocking my path towards the hallway.

"Well, I can't just leave my needy wife all alone now can I?" He tilts his head and I close my eyes, cursing him for making this all harder than it had to be.

"I'll be fine," I mutter, lifting onto my toes and pecking his cheek before fluidly moving past him. "Go." I make a gesture with my hands that waves him away as if one of the most feared men on the continent were a child in need of directions.

"Look me in the eyes and tell me you really want me to leave." Azriel's hands return to my hips before I can get too far, his grip tightening as he pulls me right back into his chest so I am flushed against him.

I grit my teeth, looking up into his hazel eyes. It was no wonder it was his job to interrogate whatever poor soul wronged the crime syndicate, it seemed as if it was impossible to lie to him when staring into those pools of hazel. Emerald and gold melded together, a rim of blue lining his pupil, and orange on the outermost edge. They were the first things I noticed about him, and they will always be my favorite physical features of his. He knew that, of course, he also knew that I was a terrible liar.

"Tell me you want me to leave," He encourages and I stifle a sigh, looking away because I unfortunately couldn't find it in myself to even attempt. I wanted him, and he seemed willing enough to give me him.

His smirk widens. "That's what I thought," He concluded in a snarky tone, but before I could manage a retort he picked me up by my hips and tossed me over his shoulder like a rag doll.

"Az! Let me go!" I pound my fists into his back but he was too busy trailing his large hand up the back of my thigh to care. "Azriel," I groan, now kicking my feet. But that didn't seem to phase him either, and he didn't put me down until we were in our bedroom and he could throw me onto the bed.

I recovered quickly, looking up at him with creased brows as I fiddled with the hem of my nightgown. "Oh don't act all shy now," He taunted. "C'mon baby, tell me what you want," He came to the edge of the bed so he was directly in front of me, his large frame looming over mine. "Or you could show me," He offers, holding out a hand and I look down at the hem of my nightgown and then back up to him. I grab his outstretched hand and push it under my dress, silently encouraging him to take it off. He seems to understand and does exactly as I wish.

The fabric falls to the floor within seconds and I fall back into the mattress, my head landing in the pillows as I watch him mount over me.

I hastily work at getting his shirt off, the silent thrashing of clothes filling the room as he kisses down my neck towards my collarbone.

"Az please," I implore, discarding his shirt down onto the floor with reckless abandon.

"What is it? Tell me what you want," He breathes into my lips. I arch up into him as the need in my chest intensifies.

"I can't wait any longer, please I need you now," I cry, my hands coming to the hem of his pants.

"Yeah? You gonna beg for it?" He incited and I whimper, attempting to press my legs together but he made the movement impossible with his hips settled between my thighs.

"Fuck, please Azriel," I fall deeper into the pillows, my need for him all-consuming as I allow myself to plead.

He leans closer as my pathetic voice fills the room, his nose running up the column of my throat before he begins placing sweet kisses down it. "More," He demands and my back arches up, my peaked breasts brushing against his chest.

"You can take me however you want, just gods, fuck me Az please," Tears fill my eyes as if I was begging for my life, yet that was what satisfied him.

"Turn around for me then, hips up alright?" He said and I nodded, quickly doing exactly as he said, my cheek going down onto one of the many pillows on our bed as I hiked up onto my knees. I can hear him sliding off his belt behind me, thrashing his pants off quickly afterward.

He hovers over me, lips pressing gentle kisses along the side of my neck in a soothing manner. I leaned into that touch, my head reclining to rest on his shoulder.

Shadows pinned me down onto the bed, dark tendrils twining around my wrists and ankles as he aligned his hips up with mine, his tip prodding teasingly at my entrance and I squirmed beneath him, writhing as I clenched around nothing, silently begging for him. "Shh, I know baby, I know it hurts," He runs a hand down my back, a soft caress to calm me. And then, he was pushing in.

"Az," I whimper as he finally sheathes himself, the wide head of his cock entering my core. I groan at the stretch, my back into his chest as he continues moving in, every inch making it harder and harder to breathe.

"So fucking, tight," He grits through his teeth, both his hands coming to my hips as he forces them back onto his cock. I screamed, clenching the sheets beneath me as he thrusts shamelessly deeper, with no caution to his movements as he picks up a steady rhythm. "This is what happens when I don't stretch you out first," He grunts. "So needy for me, impatient brat." His hands grip my hips tighter. "You gonna— gonna punish me?" I taunt, tears already forming in my eyes.

"I bet you'd like that hm? My dirty girl," He admires, pushing in all the way when I try to reply, cutting me off and replacing my words with a sudden moan, the sound ripping through me as he bottoms out inside of me.

I scream his name, the stretch so pleasurable that it brings pain. "Fuck, fuck Az I can't," I gripe, tears running down my cheeks.

"But you said you wanted this," He retorted, leaning over me so his lips were beside my ear. "You begged, remember?" He purred and a shiver ran down my spine as I flushed pink at the recent memory.

"Mhm," I nod, attempting to blink away my tears.

"Az." My back bows as he thrusts powerfully, deeper, so much deeper. Fuck, I could practically feel him in my womb. The thought alone left me clenching around him desperately, my body aching to be filled by him.

"Azriel," I moan, my tears cascading down my face like a waterfall but I didn't care anymore.

"What is it, baby?" He asked his voice half a groan.

"Breed me, please," I murmur, fully prepared to begin begging.

"Fuck," He sighed at my words, his forehead coming down to rest on my shoulder as he continues pulling out only to push back into my throbbing cunt.

"Az," I grip at the sheets, my need to release quickly turning overwhelming. "Please, I wanna have your babies," I whine and he smiles against the soft skin of my back.

"Yeah? You want me to give you more than one?" He purrs and I sigh in pleasure at the idea, sinking lower into the bed. "Mhm," I nod dumbly and within a moment his thrusts fold over in force, the strength doubling as his hips clap against the backs of my thighs.

My body screamed for release but I ignored it, I was going to draw this out as long as possible.

"Fuck, I'm gonna breed this tight cunt," He confesses and I squeeze around him at the idea, my core whirring with an uncontrollable need.

"Please," I cry, lying on the pillow pathetically as he continues stuffing himself inside of me. "Want you to come inside," I gripe, my voice fragile and raw but it only urged him to increase his speed.

"Is that right? Want me to get you pregnant? Get your belly all round with my kid?" He suggested and I quickly nodded, feeling beyond just agreement.

"Azriel," I arch deeper, my chest nearly flat against the mattress as I kept my ass up, making him feel all the more deeper inside of me.

I squeezed tighter around him and he twitched at the sensation. I smiled, prideful that he was close already. "Don't pull out," I whisper, reaching back and placing my hand on his cheek. "Want you to fill me," I throw my head back onto his shoulder while his thrusts continue, rocking the bed back and forth with the creaking of the headboard slamming against the wall. "You close?" He pants out and I nod frantically, unable to get the words out despite how badly I wanted to reach my climax.

"I can't," I manage but it was barely audible. "M'gonna—" I can't even finish my sentence before my orgasm takes me full throttle and I'm finding release on his heavy length.

The moan that rips through me is monumental, and the feeling of the moment, gods it was indescribable. A tidal wave of pure ecstasy swept me off my feet, and now I was drowning in the pleasure.

It took me a long moment to come down from that nearly celestial high, but once I did I realized I was clamped down around Azriel's cock so tightly that it was hard for him to move in and out of me any longer.

I knew he was close, the vein throbbing on the underside of his cock was proof of that.

"Fuck," He grunted lowly into the shell of my ear, my sensitive cunt twitching around his width at the sultry sound.

"C'mon Az, fill me," I whine and he nods, his forehead coming down onto my shoulder.

After one last stroke of his cock along my walls, his release finally spurted out into a direct line straight toward my womb. He groans at the feeling of his seed nestling deep inside my cunt, his small whimpers not going past my notice as he catches his breath and comes down from his high.

After a moment, ever so slowly, he unsheathes himself and allows me to fall down onto the welcoming bed.

"You did so well for me baby," He whispered, leaning down and placing pecks along the top of my spine. "My sweet girl," He hums and I mumble something incoherent about sleeping back.

"Not yet baby, I gotta clean you up," He soothes, scooping me into his arms and I whine clenching my legs together, not wanting any of his warm releases to escape me.

"M'tired," I groan but he ignores my protests and takes me into the bathroom anyway.

"Oh my poor girl," He hummed. "What am I going to do with you?" He tilts his head and I wiggle my brows suggestively.

"You could make me a mom," I suggest and he smiles, shaking his head.

"I'm already doing that, genius," He deadpans and the sudden realization overwhelms me. I wasn't pregnant yet, but that decision of being ready was enough to spur me into joy. I throw my arms around Azriel's neck and hug him tight to my bare chest.

"I love you too," He rubs my back, recognizing my silent form of affection. I nuzzle my face into his neck deeper. "My sweet girl," He sighs, his chin coming down onto mine. If everything goes well, we're soon to be parents. The idea alone at the moment was entirely perfection.

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[ddarker-dreams]

Worthy Motivator.

Blade x Reader.

Warnings: Typical Blade morbidity, Blade's slightly yan because I can never write him as Normal, and not SFW implications. Word count: 1k.

Author notes are at the end of the story!

Washcloth in hand, you wipe away the perspiration clinging to your skin. 

While doing so, you squint, an act your reflection obediently mimics, confirming that yes; this disheveled figure is indeed you. You smooth out your hair, moisturize your face, then apply a light layer of toner. The process is completed in a timely fashion. A few hand motions made midair dim the bathroom’s lights.

Yawning, the door slides open at your behest, retreating into the wall like a turtle does its shell. The room is dome-shaped and customized to your liking. A light birch wood floor, pale pink walls, and windows showcasing scenery of a tulip field stretching on for miles. Windmills dot the distance, turning at their leisure. Gentle orange hues from two rising suns envelop the room in a cozy glow. 

If you hadn’t known any better, you’d believe you were actually on the planet Ethos, not traversing the cold, unforgiving space between galaxies.

While playing with the settings to change the time being depicted to twilight, it finally dawns on you that you’re not alone. 

Blazing eyes freeze you in place and your breath catches in your throat. 

“Blade,” you greet, wincing at how gracelessly the word rolls from your tongue, “I didn’t expect…” 

You cut yourself off, figuring that finishing the sentence will strengthen the bizarre atmosphere. What can be said, anyway? ‘Thanks for that,’ or ‘couldn’t have done it without you,’ maybe? Both options seem equally terrible. To make matters worse, he doesn’t explain why he’s stuck around. He continues to stand beside your nightstand, arms crossed over his chest, his lips drawn in a straight line. 

You’re the only one boasting signs of your previous tryst, the most obvious being your unsteady gait. Hoping to convey some decorum, you clasp your hands behind your back and straighten your posture. Surely, he’ll spill whatever’s on his mind and then make himself scarce. That’s been his modus operandi ever since this undefined relationship stumbled into existence. You tried not to take it personally. You’re both adults, if he doesn’t want to stick around for pillow talk, you won’t fault him for it. 

His eyes sear through your being. 

“You’re going to Illij.” 

You blink, thrown off by the flat delivery and the intentions it conceals. He’s either painfully blunt or cryptic in his word choice. It’d be nice if he could find a middle ground between both extremes, but that’s wishful thinking. 

With unusual impatience, he adds, “Alone.” 

Ah. 

A certain magenta-haired beauty’s previous words resurface in your mind. 

“—Alone? Not taking Bladie along for the ride?” she had tutted. “You’ll hurt his feelings.” 

You thought she was teasing, as she’s wont to do, yet your developing dilemma proves otherwise. That, or you couldn’t bring yourself to acknowledge the truth in her words. 

Whilst shifting your weight from one foot to another, you meekly reply, “Kafka gave me permission.” 

He has the audacity to roll his eyes at you. 

“Permission, huh?” 

The condescension corrodes your former sheepishness. 

Placing a hand on your hips, you reply, “That’s the word I used, yes.” 

Your room pulsates with palpable tension. He stands to his full height — having been seated on your bed’s edge — sauntering over like a cat poised to pounce. You cross your arms over your chest as the distance shrinks. He’s yet to fully dress himself, wearing only his signature gray pants. His bare torso is marred with innumerable scars that vary in length and angle. Every time you both succumb to the heat of passion, his bandages occupy a new spot, depending on the circumstances of his latest battles. Presently, the cloth coils around his midsection and upper left arm. 

He’s close enough now for you to notice the latter unraveling. 

It isn’t anything logical that urges you forward. The sentiment resides deep in the recesses of your psyche, unsuccessfully shoved down by denial and trepidation. This formless substance takes shape as you meet him halfway. Blade towers over you. Given the massive gap in your abilities, you should fear him, but you know your pounding heart isn’t spurred by negative emotion. 

Much to his perplexity, you set aside the nascent quarrel, focusing your attention elsewhere. Nimble fingers resecure the rebellious cloth. 

“You’re terrible at taking care of yourself,” you mutter. “Honestly, what am I s’posed to do with you…?” 

It’s subtle, but this shift in tone relaxes his muscles. That is, until you admit: 

“I don’t like you being my bodyguard.”

Confusion contorts his countenance, then something more raw; something dangerously intimate. 

“I don’t like seeing you get hurt because of me,” you continue, lowering both your voice and head. “It’s… it’s awful and— and then— you don’t even care!” 

Hoping to avoid further humiliation, you stop there, taking deep breaths to prevent tears from flowing. This wasn’t the direction you wanted the evening to take. You wanted to take a bath, dip into a game Silver Wolf wouldn’t stop raving about, and then prepare for your imminent trip. The trip that’d put thousands of lightyears between you and a man whose blood spilled for your sake could rival an ocean. 

“I’ll be fine on my own. I’ve got Silv’s disguise software and she knows how to track me. So — I don’t know — take it easy, or something. You’ve got the month off.” 

His response is immediate. “I can’t.”

“Wh— did you not hear anything I just said?” you sputter. 

“I heard,” he confirms. He raises his hand to the bandage you rewrapped, as if trying to savor your lingering warmth. “When you’re gone, I cannot ‘take it easy.’” 

Blade uses your stupefaction to his advantage. He takes your much smaller hand into his and places it over his heart. It thumps at a slow, steady pace, like it hasn’t been obliterated and formed anew thousands of times. Your fingers twitch. His body, though colder than the average person’s, emits just enough warmth to indicate life. You feel the raised, textured skin that’s present above his every vital organ. It speaks of untold horrors; untold suffering. 

His chest rumbles as he says, “If I’ve no choice but to live… you’d make for a worthwhile reason.” 

You rest your forehead against his chest and squeeze your eyes shut. 

Kafka… are you sure it isn’t my feelings that’re in the most danger? 

A/N: owing to mental illness, aside from nexus, i devised another storyline for (slightly) less unhinged blade, this time with a stellaron hunter reader. while it has the material to make a series, i don't plan on starting up another multi-chaptered work until i make further progress into my current project 😭 still, i'm happy to talk about it if anyone's curious! here are some tidbits that give additional story context for this universe:

reader isn't super thrilled to be a stellaron hunter. a desperate situation ended in them joining the ranks. they're the emanator of the aeon of illumination, whose name i'm still undecided on. essentially, they're a 'consumer of stars,' capable of absorbing + storing well. you guessed it. stars. as you can imagine, this ability can provide immeasurable energy or devastation depending on its usage.

as a consequence, when reader's performing the sealing process, they're extremely vulnerable. it isn't exactly subtle, people tend to notice when their nearby sun is going cyaaaaaa ✌ and try to stop them. that's where bladie comes in. he kills anything and anyone that threatens them.

ethos is a pretty meadow planet that's known for harvesting clean energy (hydro, solar, wind) and using minimum technology. most of its inhabitants go their entire lives without ever seeing a computer. long distance communication is carried out through a dedicated fleet of carrier pigeons.

illij is a laissez-faire paradise. consumerism galore. ads projected in the night sky, ads projected in your dreams in certain low income areas where people can't afford space adblock™. it's a lot but sometimes reader appreciates the distraction.

[themultifanshipper]

Oh my good your newest Oscar fic I am dead!! Also can he find out about her hidden toys :))

I'll be honest, I couldn't be bothered with a whole fic so have a blurb :3

Warnings: use of toys (duh), oscar discovering things about himself, mention of pegging

Part 2 of sorts to this

You finally tell Oscar about your secret box of toys.

Oscar is kinda jealous and possessive at first, feeling like he's been missing out and not taking care of you properly.

Him saying something along the lines of ‘throw them away , you're not going to need them anymore’

But one day when he's on the other side of the world somewhere, you send him a video of you going to town on yourself with them.

He's a wreck. He fists his cock in his motorhome's bathroom, obsessively going over the video over and over again, obsessed with the way you fuck yourself on your dildo.

You getting a text in the middle of the night “I changed my mind” and knowing exactly what he's referring to.

Oscar getting way too into it and after some experimenting decides he wants in on the fun, and soon your toys are used freely by both of you.

Him being shy about it for a while, always asking you if he can use your stuff (on you or himself it doesn't matter) and you noticing sometimes that a toy will be missing while he's away.

Then he'll come home and pretend he has no idea where it is but it always reappears in the box within a day of him being back.

Oscar going feral every time he thinks about you during race weekends because he's picturing all the things you could be doing to yourself.

Him sending ‘you up?’ texts and getting back a picture or video of you teasing yourself with a vibrator every single time, without fail.

He has a rapidly growing collection in a secure folder on his phone.

Him buying himself an actual dildo for himself to use when he's away and pent up because you pegged him once and he became a mushy mess after a few well aimed thrusts.

He may or may not become obsessed with your g-spot massager, using it on himself sneakily from time to time because after his first ever prostate orgasm, he became a bit too obsessed.

Sometimes it's fun to tease him by tying him to the bed and using the toys to make yourself come while he watches helplessly.

The most used toy is probably the remote controlled vibrator.

Oscar was immediately obsessed the first time you showed it to him. He uses it on you on those days when he's at home and wants to make you beg for him.

He'll tease you all day, bringing you to the edge at the most inopportune moments, like when you're cooking or doing laundry.

You'll feel the buzz, desperately trying to ignore it until it becomes too much and he'll turn it off, leaving you high and dry as many times as he wants.

The most adventurous thing you've done with it was wear it to dinner during date night. He made you come in a room full of people and no one had any idea what was happening just a few meters away.

His favourite toy is probably the bright orange vibrating plug your best friend got you as a gag gift.

Well joke’s on her, Oscar's favourite thing is having you on all fours with your ass high in the air and your pussy drooling down your thighs as he teases you with light touches and long licks.

Only when you’re begging like a slut for him will he finally fuck you, the vibrations from the plug making him go absolutely feral as he pounds into you, making you scream in pleasure into the pillows.

On of the best things ever is when he ‘catches you' in the act. It turns out he‘s quite into role play, and he'll pretend you've been a bad girl and punish you for pleasuring yourself without him.

Nothing is ever really a punishment with Oscar though, his idea of being mean is using whatever you were using on you, and making you come as many times as he wants.

Those are the times where you're really glad you told him about your collection.

[eowynstwin]

Blackbird, Fly - Four

Cowboy Gaz x mail order bride—only, not his. After exchanging letters for half a year with ranching man Hans König, you finally travel out west to marry him. - Gaz had been the only one to try and warn you. - ao3

previous

When you wake the next morning, Hans’ side of the bed is empty, the linens already cold.

As sleep leaves you in fits and starts, the aches pull you inward—glowing dull and orange like banked embers. Your whole body feels like a twisted ankle. Nothing is broken, exactly, but every muscle feels as if it’s been pulled in a direction God never quite intended it to move.

Your shoulders. The meat of your thighs. Your hips.

The entrance to your womb.

It isn’t the knife-sharp pain from before. Only the muted, persistent throb of a wound left alone to heal. In the cottony space between sleep and waking, you think there should be more damage—for all of what happened last night. And yet, there isn’t.

Still, you don’t move when your eyes finally open. Stillness seems the only defense against the bare truth of the gray morning.

Your husband used you hard on your wedding night, and did not care for the pain he caused.

You are not fool enough to think your experience unique. Women talked as much as girls did. Your mother’s friends were wont to complain when they thought the children out of earshot: husbands who grunted and sweated over them in the night, often without uttering a word. Sometimes not even waiting for the pain of childbirth to subside before claiming their marital due.

You just had come to believe, with every letter that arrived, that your fate would be different.

But it turns out none of this is a dream after all.

Your throat closes, then. Tears prick hot in the corners of your eyes.

Stupid, stupid girl.

You swallow hard. Sit up away from the pillows, even as the aches flare in protest.

Beside you, where your husband slept, there’s a noticeable dip in the mattress. Worn in over years of slumber, and you, you suppose, on Anna’s side of the bed.

Was Hans kind to her too, before?

Abruptly you swing your legs out from the linens, and go to find one of the dresses you brought along from home.

The house is empty when you descend the stairs, as far as you can tell. You hear the steady tick, tock of a grandfather clock somewhere in the sitting room that you hadn’t noticed yesterday, in all of the commotion of the wedding preparations. The floorboards creak beneath your feet as your grumbling stomach leads you along to the kitchen.

The space is as modern and well-appointed as the rest of the house, and bigger than any kitchen you ever imagined needed to be. A cast-iron wood stove with four burners and a large oven, a sink with a pump right there by the basin, and—you nearly stop dead at the luxury—an ice box, right there beside one long counter.

You momentarily forget the troubles of the night, crouching beside the little box in fascination. A cloud of cool fog descends when you swing open the door; you brush the tips of your fingers across the huge block of ice on the top shelf, jerking them away when the cold unexpectedly burns. Not once in your life have you ever seen so much ice in one place.

On the lower shelf, you find cuts of pork and beef, wrapped in brown butcher’s paper and tied with string. Bacon for breakfast, then, and biscuits if you can find flour. Your mother always said that a difficult thing was easier after having a meal.

You find the larder stocked with further luxury. Nowhere are the home-jarred goods that would populate your family’s pantry, garden-grown vegetables pickled in vinegar or hand-pressed jams fresh from the blackberry bushes along the road. Instead you find rows and rows of cans, factory-sealed tins of manufactured uniformity, colorfully labeled and containing everything you might have ever thought to grow yourself and more.

Beans of every variety. Corn. Carrots. Peas. Beets. Tomatoes.

How much must all this have cost? So many, and lined up deep into the back of the larder. You and Hans couldn’t possible eat them all before some of them began to spoil. Of course, if he could afford to buy so much, maybe that didn’t matter.

You find the flour, and baking powder as well. Breakfast is a quick affair after that, and thankfully so, as your stomach really begins to complain as soon as the food is ready.

There’s a small table in the kitchen—yet more luxury, you think, remembering the long dining table you saw yesterday—and it’s there you sit down to solve your hunger.

The hard wooden chair is not kind to the ache between your legs.

You bite into the bacon, crunching it to pieces. There—it’s all right. You have your breakfast. Isn’t that something to be grateful for? Breakfast, and a nice stove, and an ice box, and a kitchen so stuffed with food that you can’t imagine ever running out.

Isn’t this what a loving husband provides? A good home, for his wife to live comfortably in? Pretty dresses, like the one he gave to you last night? A nice ring on your finger—the little gem glittering in the sunlight streaming in through the kitchen window?

Hans loves you. Of course. This is love.

You bite into one biscuit, hot and steaming from the pan and burning your tongue. Your mother can make them better, but you tried the best you could to follow the recipe she taught you.

The front door opens outside of the kitchen. Something quick and sharp travels up your spine. Heavy boots step inside—your husband, come looking for you—you freeze without realizing it, holding half-chewed food in your mouth—

“Mrs. König?” calls Kate Laswell, the foreman, and you relax.

“In here,” you call, after swallowing.

Laswell enters the kitchen, and turns to you, at the table. She’s dressed in mens’ clothes, dusty trousers and a heavy jacket over a button-up shirt, and a wide-brimmed hat still on her head. She looks like she’s dressed to travel.

“I’m afraid I can’t show you the accounts today, like I said I would,” she tells you, no preamble, no pleasantries.

You remember then your brief conversation with her the previous night—and Hans’ disapproval at the idea.

You set down your biscuit. “Good morning, Miss Laswell. Why not?”

“I’m going over to visit the Vargas place. We’ve been working on a leasing deal. I’ll explain when I get back.”

“Of course,” you say. “Would—” you clear your throat, embarrassed— “Would you know where my husband might be?”

The lines of Laswell’s face tighten. She has a severe look to her that you think is always present—ranch work must harden anyone, man or woman—but there is no wedding happening around you now to distract you from the unmistakable displeasure on her face.

“Last I saw he was out with the herd,” she says shortly. “Anyway, I’ll be gone for a few days. The ledger is in the cabinet by the desk. Take a look at it if you find the time.”

She tips her hat to you before you can figure out how to respond—some part of you bristles at being given orders by someone who is now, ostensibly, your employee—and leaves the kitchen. You scramble to follow her, and catch her when she’s nearly out the door.

“Miss Laswell,” you call, “is Hans—is my husband—”

You’re not very sure what you intended to ask her, before you began the question. Nor, you realize, do you think she could answer honestly, if you asked her what you really wanted to know. It wouldn’t be her place, and it would be inappropriate of you to ask.

If you could actually work up the courage to approach it.

So you settle for, “Is my husband angry with me?”

She stops, and blinks at you. You see her look you up and down, briefly, but when she meets your eyes her expression is impossible to read.

“I have no idea,” she says, and her tone betrays nothing. “Gaz wants to see you in the stables when you have a moment today. Ma’am.”

She nods farewell at you and leaves.

The steady ticking of the grandfather clock punctuates the end of the odd exchange. Disoriented, you return to the kitchen to clear away the remnants of your breakfast, flushing in confusion.

Do you really want this?

His question rings now in your ears. Along with it come memories of the previous night. The Madame’s odd interest in you. The store owner Miss Boucher’s sidelong glance at Hans. Myriad other quirks of the brow or mouth that you only now grasp the meaning of.

Everyone knew, somehow, what was coming. Everyone except you.

And Gaz had been the only one to try and warn you.

You tug on a shawl as you step out onto the front porch, breathing in the mountain air. The morning chill hasn’t yet burned off, and the sky has yet to gain its full color. Across the clearing, Kyle Garrick is at work in the stable’s corral.

He holds one end of a long lead, attached at the other to the bridle of a red-brown horse, which trots in a wide circle around him. Occasionally, with the lunge-whip he holds in his free hand, Gaz taps the horse’s hindquarters, redirecting it patiently whenever it tries to move inward or otherwise deviate from its orbit.

Horses are scared creatures, Miss, I don’t know if you know this, Hans had written. You must be gentle when you train them, or destine them to a lifetime of anxiety.

When you approach, the horse’s attention briefly turns toward you, but Gaz taps it again and it goes back into its pacing. You have a moment to admire the long line of the cowboy’s body, the focused angles of his shoulders and hips, before he addresses you, sensing your presence without having to turn and look at you.

“Good morning, miss,” he says. “Did you sleep well?”

“Yes, thank you,” you say. It feels dishonest, even if it isn’t a lie. “Good morning, Mr. Garrick.”

The horse makes its way past you, and then Gaz brings it to a stop. He winds up the lead in one hand and makes his way over to you, meeting you where you stand by the corral fence.

You can’t help but notice how handsome he looks in the light of late morning. The serious expression on his face is the same one he’d worn the day before; you suspect it’s his natural disposition.

You remember the brief smile he’d shown you last night, before Hans had taken you away, and your cheeks warm despite yourself.

“I thought I might introduce you to the horses today,” he says. “If you’ve got the time, that is.”

“Oh,” you gasp, suddenly eager, “Please! I’ve been looking forward to it ever since Hans proposed! I told him about the two old nags we had on our farm, to pull our wagon, and he said—”

We must get you on a proper horse, then, to show you the true pleasure riding may offer.

You stop mid-sentence. Something about what Hans had written rings in your memory now with a different note. It seems…mocking, almost. Imbued purposefully with a meaning intended to escape you, given you had not the experience enough to catch it.

Shame blooms painfully behind your breastbone.

“…He mentioned he’d bring me to meet them,” you say lamely.

The smile Gaz gives you doesn’t reach his eyes. “He’s very busy, or I suppose he would be today.”

“I suppose,” you echo.

Gaz inhales deeply, and then he gestures to the red-brown horse. “Well—this here is Newt. I’ve been getting him used to the bridle today.”

“Hello, Newt,” you say to the horse. You reach a hand out, briefly, but then pull it back; your instinct is to let the horse get your scent, like you might with a farm dog, but you don’t know if you should. Your father had always handled the nags.

Gaz notices, and brings one big hand to Newt’s long face, squeezing the arch of his muzzle. The horse’s eyes droop in obvious pleasure.

“He’s a big baby,” says Gaz, expression gentling. “I’m trying to see if he’ll make a good cutter, but it’s too early to tell.”

You reach out again. Newt’s velvety nostrils flare as he inhales, and then his hot breath bathes your hand and wrist. You suppose you have his approval, because Newt simply works his teeth a little and makes no indication of displeasure.

“A cutter?”

“Yeah. The kind of horse that can cut a steer out from the herd so you can drive it someplace else,” Gaz explains. “Horses either got cow-sense, or they don’t. Here, come around inside and I’ll show you the rest.”

Long Mask Ranch, Hans had written, built its reputation on the quality of its quarter horses. In the early days of its inception, his father had struck an extremely lucrative deal providing the US Army with its cavalry mounts, which had turned out to be a perfect way for the ranch’s reputation to spread. Even after the army mostly withdrew from the region, every state in the surrounding countryside knew: if you wanted good horses, you went to Long Mask.

“These are the yearlings,” Gaz explains as he leads you through the stable. “Just now we’re getting them trained to follow directions. Won’t be riding ‘em for a couple years yet.”

He puts Newt away and beckons you to follow. In the neighboring stall, one of the horses pokes its head out over the gate. It’s a light-colored colt, yellowish in the body and white-maned.

“This is Gus,” Gaz says, scratching its fuzzy chin. “He’s a big flirt, yeah, aren’t you, boy?”

You also reach out to give Gus a pat, and the colt chuffs and butts his nose into your hand, proving Gaz’s accusation. You can’t help giggling a little.

When another horse across the building snorts, Gaz chuckles, and leads you in the direction of the noise. “Ah, yeah, and that’s Woodrow. Him and Gus are always goin’ at it, but you won’t ever see better friends.”

Woodrow is dark gray horse with a distinctly unamused face. He accepts a pat on the forehead with what you can only describe as resigned patience. Gaz feeds him a sugar cube from one pocket for his trouble.

He takes you further along down the line of stalls. You meet a spirited filly named Elmira, and a colt beside her named July whose love for her is unrequited.

“We’ve already gelded him, so it wouldn’t matter much anyway,” Gaz relates.

He speaks fondly of every horse as you meet them, with the familiarity of long days working beside each of them. It relaxes him, you realize, to speak of them—the hard set of his expression has softened, the serious line of his brows eased from their iron setting.

It makes him look—not younger, you decide, but properly his age. A cowboy just beginning the best years of his career, still hale and fit enough to meet the rough demands of the job, but with enough experience under his belt to confront any challenge with confidence.

Such confidence is obvious in the way he moves. He walks loose and easy through the stable, his every step as assured as the sunrise the next morning. The line of his broad shoulders, the swooping curve of his back—they tell you at a mere glance that home is in this place, working with these creatures, and there could be nothing more Kyle Garrick might long for besides.

Envy twists your intestines around its fingers. There’s an empty space inside of you that you’d been expecting, as your wedding vows had finally taken flight, to fill with that same feeling.

At the end of the stable, in a stall in the back corner, a horse pokes its head out over the gate. It’s bigger than the yearlings, with a pale face and a dark, gray muzzle. It looks right at you, with such a clear focus that it startles you.

“Ah,” says Gaz, when he sees. “Was wondering if she’d notice us.”

“She?”

He nods. “A mare. She’s…difficult.”

The mare stares at you, with deep, night-black eyes.

“What do you mean?” you ask.

Gaz works his lips over his teeth. “Mr. König bought her last year off another rancher who was ‘bout fit to shoot her. She’s a thoroughbred, and she ain’t never met a white man she likes. As like to buck a man off as to let him ride.”

“Oh,” you say.

Gaz leans against the wall between two stalls. “Mr. König thought he might be able to break her. So far she hasn’t gotten him off her, but she won’t let him come near without putting up a fight. I’m the only one can saddle ‘er.”

You frown. “Why would he ride a horse that doesn’t want to be ridden?”

At that, Gaz’s eyes go cold. Shockingly cold, like an empty winter’s night. “Suppose he just likes taking what he wants, I guess.”

You should reprimand him. You know it immediately. It’s no way to talk about his employer, and certainly nothing he should ever say in front of you, his employer’s wife.

But you remember the blood, and still feel the ache. You have to look away from him, ashamed. Embarrassed.

You cannot defend your husband, and he must know it.

“I imagine he must know what he’s about,” you mumble.

Gaz gives a derisive snort. “I don’t know about that. He’s of a mind to start with thoroughbreds, but she will not let him breed her. Damn near killed every stallion he’s brought her to try.”

It hits you so sharply that you inhale with sudden pain, pressure knifing at your eyes. You turn away from Gaz entirely now, pressing your hands to your chest. Every ache from the night previous ricochets around inside you again, knocking all the way down into your bones.

You tip your head upward, as if it will prevent the gathering tears from falling. What’s worse, Gaz puts a hand on your shoulder behind you. You flinch at the touch, hips aching where Hans had bruised them in his grip.

“I’m sorry, Miss,” Gaz says softly. He sounds like he means it. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

He knows exactly what ails you. And why wouldn’t he? He’s known his employer for years. He’s worked this ranch for longer than you’ve even known of its existence.

He knew the previous Mrs. König, who first endured Hans’ attentions.

You are a terrible fool, and you are the last to know it.

He doesn’t remove his hand as you tremble. He squeezes you gently, the same caress he’d given to the young colt Newt. It is so kind that it nearly breaks you.

“Here,” Gaz murmurs, “let’s see something.”

You turn back to him; he takes your hand, and leads you to the back of the stable. The mare follows the two of you with her eyes, expression unchanging as you approach her.

Closer now, she is a stunning creature. You’ve never seen anything like her. Her coat is silvery-gray, with darker patterns all over her body, like ink absorbed into paper and then laid beneath a light rain. Her legs and mane are the same dark color as her muzzle, and there is a deep intelligence in her eyes as she beholds you.

“You might be the first woman she’s ever seen up close,” Gaz says.

He takes up a position behind you, and turns your hand over in his, opening your fingers. Then, slowly, so the horse can see it, he brings them to her face, pressing your fingertips to the soft whorl on her forehead.

The mare’s eyes do not leave you. She exhales a little through relaxed nostrils, chuffing, flicking her ears toward you. You play with the starburst of pale hair, following the direction it grows; her lids, heavy with thick, black lashes, drop a little.

“I’ll be,” Gaz murmurs behind you. “I think she might like you, miss.”

A loud BANG claps against the wall on the other end of the stable, and the mare jerks her head immediately, flinging your hand away. She grunts, snorts, and dances away from the gate, shaking her head, eyes flaring wide.

You and Gaz both look to the commotion—

Your husband stands in the open doorway, cast in a dark silhouette by the late morning light.

“Just what the hell are you doing?”

-

next

a/n: the horses' names are all references to characters in my favorite western, Lonesome Dove by Larry McMurtry.

[thefrogman]

Froggie's Mailbox Adventures

I have been wanting to tell this story for a while now. This all happened right before my birthday and then I got sick for 4 weeks and didn't have the energy to talk about it.

So let us take a trip into the recent past to hear a tale of woe and triumph with a bunch of extra woe interspersed throughout.

It all began on the 4th of July.

Some neighborhood rascals ruined my old mailbox with a baseball bat.

They also destroyed my brand new mailbox sensor that lets me know when there is mail so I don't have to make multiple trips to check.

(Ring replaced it for free, so that was nice.)

Originally, I was going to hire someone to replace the mailbox. But I was not having much luck finding someone who could do that specific task. (I've been having trouble finding help in general due to living in a supposedly "dangerous" area.)

So I decided to try and install the mailbox myself. And I had no idea how much of an adventure that was going to be...

My first step was tearing off the old one to see how it was mounted.

I got some paper and a sharpie and noted where the holes were. And, of course, they didn't line up with the new mailbox.

Which is a really nice mailbox. I mean, it is solid. Check this bad boy out and please don't notice the dirty clothes lying on the floor in the background.

It is always so tempting to save a few bucks and get the cheaper thing, but I am so glad I splurged on this. It looks nice. It functions well. It has magnets. And I don't think it can be baseball-batted without some instant karmic retribution from Newton's third law.

My next step was to get a new mounting plate. And even though I try not to go to Home Depot because it is run by a bunch of conservative religious bigots... I went to Home Depot.

I was a little nervous about leaving the house at the time because I was still struggling with my heart issue (which I think is mostly resolved now). I was trying to be very careful about how much I exerted myself. I really didn't want to have an episode while I was out and about.

After searching for a while I discovered they had a mounting plate and a pressure-treated mounting board. I could do wood or metal. And they were located on completely opposite ends of the store because of course they were.

I had both items in my hand and I did that thing where you just keep staring at something hoping a useful thought will pop into your brain. I had no clue which one was better for my needs. There is surprisingly little information regarding mailbox installation on the internet. YouTube really let me down on this one. I was just kinda winging it and solving problems as I went along.

I stared for for a little while longer and no useful thoughts happened.

I was tired of staring so I just said, "Fuck it" and made an executive decision.

Then I almost passed out in Home Depot.

I spent too much time walking around that gigantic monstrosity of a store and my heart started beating super fast and my legs felt like jello and I started getting quite dizzy.

I was in rough shape.

So... I had a little lie-down next to a wall of tape measures.

I just stared up at them thinking about all of the things I could measure.

I could measure a dog.

Or a horsie.

Or a horsie the size of a dog.

Then I thought, "Ooh, that one has lasers! I NEED IT."

My brain was not functioning at 100% in that moment.

After about 10 minutes of thinking about lasers and things I could measure with lasers, my body seemed to reboot and I was able to get up. Thankfully no one saw me and thought there was a dead body in the aisle or something. But that was still embarrassing all the same.

Once my heart slowed down I was able to pay and make it out to the car. I headed home and saw one of the most unusual sunsets of my life. The sun was dim and a shade of orange I have never seen in nature. It was like, cheeto orange. Not only that, it was a perfect circle with a super crisp outline. It didn't look real.

I tried to get a picture of it but when I looked at the picture later, the camera didn't capture anything like what I saw.

This is the best approximation I can manage. But it still doesn't do it justice.

I was hoping I could get home in time to grab my real camera and capture this strange setting sun, but it dipped below the horizon just as I pulled into my driveway.

I then started problem solving how to get the new mailbox in place with the items I purchased. And I was on a deadline because I have no clue what happens when the mailperson arrives and they don't have a mailbox to put the mail in. Do they just throw it on the ground? Do they get to keep the mail? Are they going to use all of my grocery coupons?

And for some reason, my post office does not keep a consistent delivery schedule. I've been trying to figure out a pattern for weeks and they just seem to come "whenever" and that is about as close as I can pin it down. Which is why I got the mailbox sensor.

Due to my near fainting episode in Home Depot, I was in no shape to be handy, so I was trying to think of a temporary solution to put the new mailbox on without properly mounting it. At first I was going to just wrap it in packing tape a bunch of times. But then I noticed I had a bunch of string. And I decided that was a more interesting solution... for reasons? My brain was still not doing well. But when I tried to tie the new mailbox to the post with the string it failed miserably. And I realized the packing tape wouldn't work either. The mailbox did not sit flat on the post and it wiggled. However, because I tried the dumb string method, I discovered this wiggle issue and it actually helped me figure out how to mount it.

I gave up for the night and decided to hope I could install the box in the morning before "whenever" happened. The next morning I started drawing dots on boards and comparing my old holes to my new holes and measuring clearances. (Measuring without lasers like a chump.) I needed to elevate the mailbox in order to mount it and that's when I thought to combine the board and the plate. I could screw the board into the old holes and then create new holes in the board for the plate to attach. And the plate lined up with the holes in the bottom of the new mailbox.

EASY!

It was a pretty big brain moment for me and I felt like I just solved quantum physics or something.

You're probably pretty confused because you are not as smart as I am.

Here is a diagram to help.

The board mounts to the post arm. The plate screws into the board. The mailbox screws into the plate.

Or just use string.

Also, how fortunate was it that I stared for all that time and got frustrated and just bought both things?

My next problem was that my drill wouldn't fit inside the mailbox and I couldn't screw the screws in place. So I drilled pilot holes in the board so I could manually screw in the screws with a ratcheting right angle screwdriver.

And the only reason I had one of those is because I use it as a fidget toy. (I like the clicky sounds.)

Another lucky happenstance!

I tried to prepare as much as I could in my garage before dragging all of my tools to the end of my lengthy driveway. I brought along my dad's old rolling walker so I'd have something to transport everything.

But also so I'd have something to sit on while I was installing the new box. Then I wouldn't have another heart episode and need another lie-down.

Seriously, how big is my brain?

I am like the smartest person alive.

So I got to the end of the driveway with all of my tools and my board and my plate and my templates and I realized something was missing.

The new mailbox.

I am like the dumbest person alive.

After a quick back-and-forth to retrieve the mailbox, I got started on my master mounting plan.

I screwed the board onto the post arm.

Then I screwed the plate into the board.

Then I lined up the new mailbox onto the plate.

But as I was doing this, I was kinda sticking out into the street a little bit. And usually that isn't a big deal. Cars can see me from very far away and they were just steering around me. But then two cars came from opposite directions at the same time and I was in a precarious position where I could not move. One car steered wide to avoid me, and for some reason, the other car decided not to slow down but to drive off the edge of the street.

And as they pulled this maneuver I heard a loud thump, followed by a loud pop, and then the sound of hissing getting farther and farther away.

Like a snake version of the Doppler effect.

They drove directly into this and popped their tire.

On the one hand, I felt a little responsible and guilty. On the other, it is not my responsibility to fix the street. And on a third hand, that was silly driving behavior and perhaps they will see this as a learning moment.

After processing what just happened I got back to the task at hand. To my delight and surprise, all of my planning and problem-solving was working. Everything fit together perfectly. The right angle ratcheting screwdriver was screwing in the screws. And after I tightened the final one...

I had successfully installed a new mailbox, on my own, without any jankiness or tape or string.

Like, I did this legit proper.

Tons of pure endorphins rushed into wherever endorphins go. (Again, I am very smart.) That feeling of accomplishment was pure ecstasy. I had no idea how to do this and in less than 24 hours I was basically an expert mailbox installer. I took some shots of my work on my phone so I could brag to Katrina, packed up all of my tools, and began to walk back to the house.

And... my heart started beating fast again.

And... I needed to have another little lie-down in the grass next to my driveway.

I stared up at the sky and was frustrated and proud simultaneously. A weird mixture of emotions. At the time I didn't know if my heart could be fixed. But thankfully I had my sense of accomplishment to temper my heart sadness.

And then I thought, "I should get a new address sign."

Epilogue time!

I got on Amazon and started looking up new signs. And I found one that was solar powered and lit up at night. So clearly I needed to have that one. My midnight food delivery people will never struggle to find my house again!

And it actually looked pretty neat.

(My address is not actually four 0s, but you are free to try sending me something.)

The sign was very easy to read... if you were super duper close.

But if you were farther away...

You couldn't actually distinguish the numbers. And it kinda looked weird next to the mailbox. And headlights made the numbers even harder to see. Which was the opposite of what I was going for.

So I opted to get a more traditional sign.

(Please send items to the realm of nothingness. I am in the void.)

But this bugged me because the sign was a different size than the old sign and the connection points didn't line up perfectly.

I HAD A CATAWAMPUS CHAIN!

WHICH IS THE MOST UNACCEPTABLE KIND OF WAMPUS!

It was at this point that Katrina started making fun of my perfectionism.

But this wasn't perfectionism for perfection's sake.

My Dad was having trouble fixing things around the house. And some other kids knocked over the previous, previous mailbox. And he found the strength to go to the store, get a new one, and install it all by himself. He was at the end of the driveway, attached to his portable oxygen canisters, and fixing one last thing for this house.

And I guess I just wanted to get it back to perfect. Because he never did any handyman task half-assed. He was a full-ass handyman. Always.

So... I fixed the sign.

Perfectly balanced.

Again, feel free to send me stuff to 0000 Road.

I'm sure it will get here... "whenever."

[bunnliix]

When Eight Becomes Nine - Chapter Fourteen

This was a bit of a rollercoaster of a chapter, with angst, fluff, maybe a bit of romance too, but overall ends on a sweet note. This is also my longest chapter in a bit oops

Pairing: Ateez x 9th member!reader  Summary: Yunho's fight and getting called back to the company, plus more angry Hongjoong because we love an angry captain. wc: 4.8k AU: a/b/o  Genre: Fluff/Angst  warnings: fighting, non-graphic descriptions of injuries, angry alphas, slight panicking by y/n, Hongjoong being angry aover many things, talks about supressing heats for not good reasons, clingyness, mxm interactions, growling masterlist

She would come to find out later that the bystanders were almost smothered in the scent of her distress. But in the moment, y/n could only watch in horror as Yunho fought the other alpha, fists flying and too much movement to keep track of, until you noticed something fly out of Yunho’s pocket.

Watching as it flew towards her, she found it was Yunho’s phone. Y/n wasn’t able to catch it, but she picked it up from the ground. However, it was locked, and there was no way for her to guess his password. Though, just with her luck, she was able to open up the emergency call, and found that there was a number ready to be called. Calling that number, she hoped it was someone who would be able to help.

“Yunho?” She heard the person answer, and it took her a few moments to reply, prompting the other person to repeat Yunho’s name once again.

“This isn’t Yunho, but who are you?” Y/n asked the person on the other line, not recognizing the voice.

“Y/n? Why do you have Yunho’s phone? It’s me, Hongjoong.” He said, and y/n just breathed in a sigh of relief to hear the captain’s voice.

“There’s a bit of a situation here, can you come find us?” You asked him, whining at the end as you watched Yunho take a particularly brutal punch.

“What’s around you? Tell Alpha Hongjoong so he can find you,” Hongjoong said, finding that you couldn’t help but tell him after hearing his last words to you. Hongjoong had added a bit of his alpha voice into his last sentence, needing y/n to focus on what was around her so they could find her and Yunho quickly.

“Umm, there’s a convenience store to the left of me? It looks like a 7/11 I think? And there’s a bunch of food stalls around here too?” She said, looking around quickly.

She heard one of the other’s voices in the back, “I know where they are, let’s go!” She couldn’t tell who that was, but she knew they were on their way.

“Keep yourself safe, sweetheart, okay? We’ll be there as quickly as we can be, I promise.” Hongjoong told her before hanging up on her. 

She watched as Yunho took control of the fight, pinning the other alpha to the ground. It seemed she had missed a bit while talking to Hongjoong. She held her breath as she watched him, eyes flicking up every few seconds as she hoped the others would get there already.

It wasn’t until Yunho had beaten the other alpha half to unconsciousness, that the other seven arrived. Jongho, Wooyoung, and Seonghwa rushed over to your side as you watched the alphas pull Yunho off of the other alpha, who laid there for a moment before stumbling up and running away, not looking back.

“Yunho, what were you thinking?” Hongjoong asked him, his voice stern.

“He insulted y/n. He was being an asshole.” Yunho said, anger still clear in his voice and scent as the smell of oranges was taken over by the spicy smell of ginger, causing y/n to step back.

“This isn’t the time or place to do this. We’re going to head back to the company now. I’ve been requested to bring you all back with me.” Hongjoong informed him, placing a hand on the taller alpha’s shoulder and pulling him along, the smell of bitter coffee that stung her nose emanating from the shorter man as he passed by the three omegas and beta.

The four joined the group as the nine of them walked back to where their security would pick them up. When they arrived, there were two vans waiting for them, as well as one of the group’s managers, who ushered the group into two separate ones as they climbed into the black vans. Y/n chose to stick with Jongho, Wooyoung, Mingi and Yeosang as the other four climbed into the van behind theirs. They quickly took off towards the company, and for the first little while the car was silent. 

Yeosang was the first one to break the silence, “What do you think the company wants us for?”

“I don’t know. We’ll find out soon.” Mingi answered his fellow alpha, and the car once again fell silent, and that continued until they arrived at KQ.

The four exited the van, only waiting a couple minutes more for the other half to arrive, and the full group entered the company building and followed Hongjoong as he took the lead and guided them to the same conference room they had been in earlier that day.

It was almost a mirror image of that morning’s meeting, except it was just her, Ateez and their management team.

“We want to get y/n’s contract signed quickly, so that we can get to work on adding her into the group.” One of the staff members stated.

“Hand over the contract then, please.” Hongjoong took charge, as he had pulled y/n to sit next to him for this meeting, having had a clue what was going on. 

Knowing that Hongjoong wouldn’t relent, they handed over the contract to him, who placed it in between himself and y/n, and Hongjoong helped y/n look over the major parts of the contract. While they did that, Hongjoong looked up at Seonghwa, who was already messaging the group’s independent lawyer, so that they could look over the contract before their newest member signed it.

“It’s a standard contract that all of our artists sign,” Another staff member said, “The clauses in there are all industry standard.”

“No it’s not,” Hongjoong said, having found a couple clauses that he very much disagreed with, “I know neither of these clauses are industry standard. I negotiated them out of our renewed contracts, so why are they in hers?” He said, looking up at the staff with a raised eyebrow and a grin that no one wanted to be on the receiving end of.

“This is the standard contract. Why should she be given any other contract?” The same staff member asked.

“Because she’s part of my group now. She’ll get the same contract we have. She will not be forced to suppress her heats, nor will she have a separate dorm unless she explicitly requests that.” Hongjoong said, his voice teetering on the edge of anger.

“Well, we’d have to have a valid reason why she can’t follow what we’ve put in the contract.”

“The valid reason is the omegas in my group do not and will not risk their health for your ability to make us work.” Hongjoong states with a tone of finality, not willing to budge.

“Our lawyer is on their way, Hongjoong-ah,” Seonghwa leaned over to tell him.

“Your lawyer?” Y/n finally spoke up, looking over at the two eldest.

“Yes, he’ll make sure that your contract matches ours, and will make sure that there’s nothing shady in it.” Hongjoong reassured y/n.

She was surprised that they would go this far for her, but in reality she shouldn’t be too surprised. As a group, they’ve done a lot to make her feel like a part of the group and this is just another way they’re doing that, but ensuring she would have a fair contract.

Mingi leaned behind Jongho, whispering, “Hyungs will make sure your contract is like ours, they won’t stand for anything being unfair to you. It’ll be okay. But bring it over between Jongho and I so we can tell you what else is in it.”

She managed to slide the contract between the three of them, and the two explained exactly what was in the contract to her, sometimes using a translator when things didn’t transfer between languages. She found the parts that Hongjoong pointed out to be the most egregious, with the exception of the one other part of the idol contract, that she felt was potentially malicious in its wording. She was intending to bring up that clause as well, as she wouldn’t abide by it.

It wasn’t long before the Ateez’s lawyer arrived, and Hongjoong, having realized that the contract was no longer in his possession, looked to find that y/n and the two men had nabbed it. He coughed to alert them to his presence, the three looking over and seeing that the captain had his hand out for the contract. 

Y/n handed it over, looking a little sheepish that she had taken it, despite the fact that it was her contract, so she was allowed to look at it. Hongjoong handed it over to the lawyer, who immediately took the seat offered to him by Seonghwa, who moved to stand behind the chairs of Jongho and y/n, his hands resting on the backs of the chairs.

“Hi baby omega, Joong-ah will get this sorted for you.” Seonghwa said to her as he leaned down closer to her, as she nodded.

“There’s another part of the contract I don’t like. It’s the one beneath the accommodations.” She looked up at the older omega as she spoke.

Though neither of them had to say that to Hongjoong, the man somehow heard her words despite his focus, and immediately pointed that out to the group’s lawyer, to the protest of one staff member. The same one who continued to insist that y/n’s contract was fine as is.

“It is not fine as it is,” Hongjoong fired back, before turning to y/n, “Y/n, what do you want to do for your accommodations? Do you want a separate apartment? Or would you like to stay with us in our dorm?” He asked her.

Y/n took a minute to think. It would be nice to have her own space, it would allow her the downtime she sorely needed sometime, and the space to be by herself. But on the other hand, she’d grow closer with the others if she moved in with them.

“I’m okay moving into your dorm, Hongjoong-oppa,” She answered, looking at him.

Hongjoong didn’t have to say a word as the lawyer amended that part of the contract. This was how the rest of the amendments went, Hongjoong asking her what she wanted, and once she answered him, that change was implemented in the contract. Hongjoong also changed the contract to allow for her to have as many heats during the year as her body required, though usually she only had two or three a year.

“Here’s the amended contract. We won’t accept any less than this.” The lawyer, whose name she never caught, said as they handed over the changed contract.

“You can’t go changing her contract for her,” That same staff member sputtered out.

“I can and I have. If you want to get fired, by all means keep protesting. I can and will walk away from KQ if you or other staff continue to cause trouble,” Hongjoong said.

“You’re going to this trouble for an omega. If you had gone with the nice beta, we wouldn’t have to deal with all of this nonsense.”

And that was where they stepped over the line. And where specific staff’s involvement that resulted in the chaos this morning was revealed. Hongjoong growled in anger at this information, and the younger four took to letting their frustration out on the poor (and not so poor) staff members. Hongjoong, who really seemed to work on instinct, pulled y/n close to him and led the omega out of the room to his studio, wanting to get away from the stress that their staff kept causing.

Y/n didn’t really have any choice but to let Hongjoong lead her away, watching as the alpha’s shoulders started to slowly relax, though his body was still tense. The captain of the group pushed open his studio door, pulling her inside before locking it and dragging both of them to the couch. Y/n was not expecting for the alpha to pull her down almost on top of him as Hongjoong pulled off the scent patch that he must have put on earlier while in the other van. The smell of bitter coffee and burnt vanilla permeated the room while y/n almost choked on the bitter scents.

“I’m sorry,” Hongjoong said, pulling her close and making her squeak in surprise.

“Sorry about what?” Y/n managed to get out, pushing away her surprise for the moment.

“For pulling you into this mess. I know I didn’t want anyone else joining at the beginning, and I surely didn’t want KQ to meddle with my group, but I’m grateful that you’re the one that we chose.” Hongjoong said, pulling her down at the end, burying his head in her neck to get better access to her scent, shocking y/n. 

She wasn’t expecting this today, even after what had happened the night prior. Where did this clingy Hongjoong come from? She couldn’t deny loving it, who wouldn’t want to be this close with Kim Hongjoong? But at the same time, this feels like something that should be reserved for packmates, not her, a random omega.

Her train of thoughts was broken by Hongjoong mumbling into her neck, “Why do you smell sad?”

“Sad?” She asked, confused.

“Yes, sad.” Hongjoong said.

“I’m not sad, Hongjoong-oppa.” Y/n told him.

“You smell sad, there must be something wrong. It’s okay, alpha is here.” Hongjoong said to her, his alpha feeling the need to try and make her happier.

Thankfully, for y/n’s poor heart, Seonghwa unlocked the door and let himself in to find the two on the couch.

“Hi y/n dear. Are you okay?” Seonghwa asked, to which she nodded.

“She’s sad.” Hongjoong told the omega, his face still buried in y/n’s neck.

Before Seonghwa could reply, two more members stumbled into the now unlocked studio. It turned out to be Yeosang and San, who looked sheepish at the stares being leveled their way.

“Hi hyungs, hi y/n,” San greeted the trio, “Hongjoong-hyung, looks like you’re getting comfy with y/nnie.”

Hongjoong didn’t grace San’s teasing with a reply, instead opting to reach out for Seonghwa, pulling the omega down next to himself and y/n.

“We’re here to fetch y/n. They’ve redone the contract with the new terms, and they want her to sign it.” Yeosang informed the duo.

Y/n nodded and tried to remove herself from Hongjoong, but was unable to. “Hongjoong love, you have to let go.” Seonghwa tried to coax the alpha into releasing the youngest omega.

“Don’t want to.” He grumbled, pouting.

“If you let go of y/n, and let her sign the documents, we can go grab her stuff from the trainee dorms later.” Seonghwa said, trying to entice the pack alpha into letting go. Honestly, Hongjoong’s behavior was not the norm for the alpha, he wasn’t very clingy to people he didn’t know well, and y/n counted as one of those people currently.

Thankfully, Seonghwa’s reminder worked and Hongjoong pulled his arms away from where they were wrapped around y/n’s waist. This allowed y/n to get off of the captain’s lap, unable to look at him while she felt her face heat up. She walked over to Yeosang and San, who promised the two eldest that they’d bring her back afterwards.

While y/n went off to go sign the contract, Seonghwa turned to Hongjoong, an eyebrow raised at his leader and pack alpha.

“What was that behavior about, hmm?” Seonghwa asked.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Hongjoong tried to deflect, but it wouldn’t work with his mate and he knew it.

“Yes you do, but if you want to deny your actions, then go right ahead.” Was all the omega said in reply, falling silent afterwards.

The two sat in silence until y/n and the other six members returned from her contract signing. The door opened slowly and Yunho was the first to step inside, followed by y/n and then San and the others were right behind her.

“Did it go well?” Seonghwa asked, to which y/n hummed and nodded.

“Her contract was altered the way that we wanted, and we all double checked before we let her sign it, but now y/n’s an official member of Ateez!” Yunho said, washing away any worries that the staff had sneakily changed the contract, and to which everyone celebrated her officially joining them.

However, the cheering was cut short by an interruption by one of the members.

“Can we go home now?” Wooyoung whined from behind the group in the doorway.

“Well that depends on what y/n wants to do,” San said, looking to the omega in front of him for her answer.

“I can go back to the dorms I’m staying in if you all want to return to yours,” Y/n offered.

“We were maybe planning to offer for you to grab your things from the dorm you were staying in, and bring them to our dorm, since you’ll be moving in soon anyways.” Seonghwa said.

Y/n looked around, seeing that there wasn’t anyone opposed to that idea, and she nodded, saying, “Okay, we can do that.”

This started another round of cheers and San wrapped his arms around her shoulders, pulling her back to him. 

“You’ll get to experience the craziness that is Ateez now. I hope you’re prepared for it. I’ll have your back if anyone gets too much, okay?” He told her, as they watched the others cheer and plan out the rest of their day.

“Who’s ever prepared for the craziness and chaos that is Ateez?” Y/n said in response, making San chuckle, feeling his chest rumble and making her slightly flustered at how  close she was to him, and to have this privilege of becoming one of them.

“Look at you two getting cozy here,” They heard from behind them, y/n pulling away slightly.

“Are you jealous, Mingi-yah?” San teased back.

“No, but hyung might get jealous.” Mingi said, nodding over to where Hongjoong was staring right at them.

Y/n looked over and saw the very intense stare from Ateez’s pack alpha, quickly looking away again. The stare was too much for her right now, she couldn’t keep eye contact with him. 

Mingi and San chuckled at her reaction, and y/n pouted in response, “Don’t laugh at me.” She slightly whined, annoyed.

“You’re adorable though sweetheart,” Mingi drawled, “You’re gonna have to learn to keep eye contact with hyung when he stares like that, y’know.”

“Well maybe one day I will, not today.” She mumbled, looking down at her shoes and the ground.

Suddenly everyone started moving, and San pulled her along, y/n stumbling as she wasn’t ready for the sudden movement. San stopped her from falling over, apologizing and instead moving to grab her hand instead. He guided her through the halls as they followed the other seven out of the company building and down to the same two vans that they had arrived here in. This time it seemed to be split between the maknae and hyung lines, and with San holding her hand, she joined the younger four in their van.

“The hyungs will meet us at our dorm, and the four of us will go with you to collect your things.” Jongho said to her as the van took off in the direction of the auditionee dorms.

“Okay. I’ll make sure to be quick so that you all don’t have to wait too long.” She said in reply.

“Mingi and I were going to come up with you, so you don’t have to carry everything yourself.” San said to her, smiling.

“You don’t have to do that,” She protested, “I can do it myself.”

“Let them help,” Jongho said, “They’ll whine about it if you don’t.”

Sighing, she nodded in agreement to letting them help. The two smiled brightly at her, and it was only a few minutes later that they arrived at the apartment building that housed the dorm she had stayed in.

After the trio exited the van, San motioned for her to lead them to the dorm. She took them up to the sixth floor, and down to the end of the hall. Typing in the keycode, the door unlocked and let them in, where they found the others packing up.

“Oh, you’re here.” One of them said, “And you’re special enough to have Ateez members with you too.”

“I’m here to collect my things. It was nice to stay with you for these few days, and I hope you have a safe trip back home.” Y/n said to them, not wanting to get into it with any of the auditionees who were now heading back to their homes.

She led the two men to her room, unlocking it with her key and letting them into the room. Because she hadn’t really had much time to do anything here, or go out and explore, most of her clothes and other necessities were still in her suitcase. 

She directed the two to put away the clothing that was strewn about the room as she reluctantly dismantled her nest, or an attempt at one anyways. Once she finished that, she moved to leave the room so she could collect what was left of her stuff in the bathroom. She found and grabbed everything, packing it in her toiletries bag and bringing it back to her room, where she found her suitcases packed, and her backpack waiting for whatever else she had to put in it.

“We packed everything else we could into your backpack, if that’s okay?” Mingi said, a bit unsure.

“That’s okay, I think you actually packed everything where I usually put them, so it’s less work for me,” She told him.

“Then let’s go, the others at our dorm are getting a bit antsy.” San said, grabbing one suitcase and pulling it along while Mingi grabbed the remaining ones, as y/n took her backpack.

The three navigated their way out of the apartment and down to the van, the two men packing her bags into the back of the van while she hopped in with her backpack. Once they were all back in the van, they headed to their final destination, Ateez’s dorm. Thankfully, they weren’t actually far from it, which is slightly concerning, but their building did have good security, so she shouldn't have to worry.

Arriving at their building, they found that Hongjoong was waiting outside. He greeted them as they climbed out of the car, and followed San and Mingi and the three grabbed her suitcases while y/n slung her backpack onto her back. Seeing as Wooyoung and Jongho had very little to nothing to carry, they lead the way into the building, stopping to get another keycard for y/n, before heading up to their dorms, y/n paying attention to the details this time.

Jongho unlocked their door, leading everyone inside, and while y/n was taking off her shoes, Hongjoong led San and Mingi away further into the dorm so that y/n’s bags could be left in her room for now. 

Seonghwa showed up in the hallway, greeting the three at the entrance of their home, “Hello you three, and welcome to your new home, y/n.”

“Thank you Seonghwa-oppa,” Y/n said, bowing to the older omega in thanks. 

Seonghwa waved off her thanks, insisting that it was nothing, and that they were happy to have her here with them. The two omegas and one beta lead her to the living room for now, promising that they’ll give her a proper tour later.

The trio found the other two ‘99 liners that hadn’t been in her van in the living room, Yeosang had taken to laying on the floor, while Yunho had situated himself in the only chair in the room.

“Welcome to your new home!” Yunho said, smiling at her and waving her over to sit on the nearby loveseat. 

“Thank you, Yunho-oppa,” she said, moving to take the seat he was pointing at, and Wooyoung moved to sit next to her, taking the remaining spot.

“Yah, stop hogging her, let someone else sit next to her if they want to.” Seonghwa scolded Wooyoung, making the other omega get up.

The moment the spot was free, both Jongho and Yeosang moved to sit next to her before freezing when they noticed the other. Jongho won that silent debate, and Yeosang took the spot in between y/n’s legs, after asking her for permission.

Wooyoung pouted at this, before Seonghwa pulled the omega down onto the couch with him, the younger omega sitting on Seonghwa’s lap and his head being pushed into the older omega’s neck. Wooyoung’s body relaxed so quickly once his nose was buried in Seonghwa’s scent gland, it was almost like watching a puppet with its strings cut.

Y/n quietly giggled at the sight, it was cute but amusing to see how quickly Wooyoung went quiet. The trio that had been putting away her bags in her new room emerged from one of the hallways, their leader smiling at the sight they came back to.

“It looks like everyone’s settling in well.” Hongjoong commented as the two behind him moved to find their own spots, Mingi gravitating towards Yunho while San moved to sit in the spot next to where Seonghwa and Wooyoung were, as Hongjoong took the final open spot, on the other side of the two omegas.

The nine of them stayed quiet for a while, just taking in the silence after a long day, and while they had promised y/n a proper tour, it wasn’t to be as one by one, they fell asleep. Y/n watched as Seonghwa and Wooyoung fell asleep, wrapped up in each other, and it wasn’t long before San joined them, his head resting on Seonghwa’s other shoulder. 

Mingi and Yunho almost fell asleep, however Mingi stood up, stumbling as he was fairly sleepy, and pulled Yunho out of his chair and down one of the hallways, to one of their bedrooms. 

Yeosang was next, and y/n felt his head lean more on her thigh as he lost the battle to sleep. Jongho chuckled next to her, the sound so quiet she almost didn’t hear it.

“He tends to do this, it’s always adorable.” He explained, whispering to her. 

Hongjoong, still awake, moved over to the two still awake, sitting down in between Jongho’s legs.

“This doesn’t usually happen, well not like this. This is usually how it happens in the pack nest, but it seems everyone is really tired today.” Hongjoong said to y/n, explaining further about days like this.

The combination of all of the scents in the room, all happy and content, made y/n feel sleepy. She had already had a very active day that was full of surprises, so this quiet downtime made her become very sleepy very quickly. She felt her head lolling to the side, and despite her attempts to stay awake, the comforting smell of a fireplace, as that was all she could think of it as, burning wood in a fireplace, a hand moved to pull her head onto their shoulder.

“It’s okay to sleep, y/n,” Hongjoong whispered, looking up at her from his place on the floor, some emotion in his eyes that she couldn’t place at the moment.

She felt her eyes get heavy, and the calming scents from those around her, lulled her into sleep. Hongjoong and Jongho watched as her breathing became slower and evened out, before the captain looked around at the others, smiling at how content everyone seemed right now. He looked back at Jongho to find the maknae looking down at him.

“You should sleep too, hyung,” Jongho whispered, just loud enough for the older alpha to hear.

“I’m not that tired,” Hongjoong started, before his body betrayed him, a yawn coming out of his mouth.

“You can come here and sleep, if you want?” Jongho offered, his voice unsure.

Hongjoong took him up on his offer, climbing into the younger man’s lap and resting his head on Jongho’s unoccupied shoulder, and like y/n, started relaxing as Jongho’s scent comforted him and made him grow sleepier.

“It’s okay hyung, I can take on your burdens for a little while, you can rest.” Jongho whispered into Hongjoong’s ear, and it was those words that convinced Hongjoong it was okay to rest for a while.

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[bywons]

𝜗ৎ MIDNIGHT SHENANIGANS! (enhypen)

⌕ it's midnight, and you both can't catch any sleep, what to do now?

𖦹 pairing. bf!enhypen x f!reader w.c. 2.1k tw/cw. skinship, nicknames genre. fluff ( CATALOGUE!? ) sru's note procrastinated big time on this one :) hope y'all enjoy this!

heeseung (이희성) 、 both of you are bored, your favourite tv show no longer being able to keep you both entertained or make you laugh till your stomachs ached. it fades into the background, slowly becoming a faint backdrop noise for your half tedious and half weary bodies tangled with each other on the couch.

"'this season just got boring", you yawn, pushing yourself closer to heeseung's broad and warm chest while his hand strokes your back, "i wonder if the next season would be bett—"

"right now the only thing you should wonder about is to get some sleep", heeseung's bored interruption causes he formation of a small frown on your face as you sit up beside him.

"you know im a night owl, hee", you sigh, angling your neck up to meet his eyes looking softly down at yours, "hmm, why don't you serenade me? pretty boy?"

heeseung reciprocates your smirk and clears his throat to sing his lover to sleep, before he can get some himself.

or so he thought. his serenade attempt soon turned to a session of singing competition after you sang the next line to a song heeseung didn't really like.

the silent living room soon gets filled with heesung's serene voice and your attempts at singing, and every time heeseung has a voice crack you mock him, laughing and falling onto his lap. your silly little singing competition continues until you both fall asleep in each other's embrace in the couch.

but nobody thanks the tv show, which still runs in the background and serenades both of you to sleep.

jay (박종성) 、 you thought your boyfriend jay wouldn't notice your absence or the slow sink and rise of the soft bed mattress beside him, and you would slip away from his loose hold and stand idly in front of the open fridge in the dark, totally forgetting your initial plan.

but then a sudden husky, sleepy, familiar voice startles you, "what are you doing there, love?"

the orange light emerging from inside the fridge illuminates your dull white tee, and accentuates jay's hands around the waistline of your joggers soon enough.

jay presses soft kisses along your neck, whispering, "are you hungry?"

"and bored", you huff.

"then let's cook something together yeah?", jay suggests before putting on his cooking apron and helping you with yours.

you have absolutely no idea on how to prepare the apple pie 'cause after all you're jay's girlfriend! he pampers you too much and cooks everything you like for you, so naturally you stood still in the middle of the kitchen, your time passing by yapping to your boyfriend and handing him the ingredients.

jay adds to your little rants, whilst single-handedly baking the apple pie, but with your little necessary helps tho <3

and when the apple pie is finally done, jay cuts the biggest portion for you, letting you taste it first.

the clock ticks by and the dull kitchen is filled by your hungry munching mouths and lovelorn eyes, jay and you enjoying each other's presence even in the boring hour at midnight.

this is bound to become a memory.

jake (심자연) 、 "but i didn't watch la la land!" "but i did!"

you guys were supposed to select a movie to watch like an hour ago now, but obviously it can't go smoothly without your usual bickering.

the night grows darker and your usual bedtime is in the long past, it's almost 1 o'clock, and both of you just wanted the movie marathon night to be over already, but not without selecting a movie you both would enjoy. and that seems impossible at this rate.

"be so for real right now, what do you really wanna watch jake?", you are losing your patience by the minute now, you only ever call him by his name when you are either annoyed or fed up by him. your eyes are threatening to close any second and you want to either a) watch a movie and cuddle to sleep with your boyfriend or b) just give everything up and sleep already.

"whichever you wanna watch", hearing this from your boyfriend makes your temper rise even more. and alas, you both agreed on something you both hate— horror movies.

ah yes, bodies huddling together with eyelids dropping to make your visions blurry and indefinite, as if it would make the movie any less scary. jake's arms pull you into a close hug as he whispers, "i t-think we should skip this part babe", to the most important part of the story.

both of you flinch at the low growl from the monster like entity in the movie. and to even make the atmosphere scarier, y'all jumped and screamed— almost waking up the neighbours —when both of you mistook layla's bark as some monster.

"babe, i think we should sleep", and that marks the end of your movie night, not even 30 minutes into the movie and your bodies are covered by the white duvet, cuddling close to each other.

such bravehearts, eh?

sunghoon (박성훈) 、 as soon as you step back after pressing the record button on your phone, sunghoon comes sprinting and sweeps you by your feet and twirls you out of the recording frame.

"ugh, hoonie!", you whine with upturned lips and kicking feet, with your boyfriend holding you up with his strong arms, "you entered at the wrong moment!"

"did i?", sunghoon was confused at first, but that expression soon wipes off his face when his eyes fall upon your pouty one. he smirks, "i don't think there's any wrong or right moment for me to pick you up in my arms, darling."

your twitching lips betray you. it opposes your expressions and matches your feelings, you couldn't help but smile down at your boyfriend who's already having heart eyes for you, and you feel blood rushing up to the tip of your ears.

"ok but do it properly this time hoon", you giggle. sunghoon lets you down to your feet, watching you run over to your phone again, resetting the tiktok recording.

this time you had to do it right, after all this can't go on till the sun peeks over the horizon and decides to wish you a good morning.

but as they say, third times the charm. this time the tiktok came out perfectly, just as you wanted to; with you looking over to the side before getting snatched away by your boyfriend in a lightening speed, and off the camera sunghoon presses soft kisses on your cheeks, soft hushed giggles filling the otherwise serene room. little affectionate moments meant only for you <3

and now the clock's almost hitting 1 am, hanged above your heads, under which the both of you scrolled past all the numerous, silly tiktoks you filmed. some with choreographies and planned lip syncs, and others just crack videos of you two, which the tiktok community will probably not see.

the night grows deeper and so does your love, but alongside the bag under your eyes </3

sunoo (김선우) 、 the pink clay mask feels cold on your skin, as you srunch up your face while sunoo applies it on you.

"don't do that, it can leave wrinkles!",sunoo exclaims although he moves his whole face a little too much with the half dry clay mask sitting cold on his own skin.

"oh, so i see how it is," you sigh, making a face full of faux melancholy, "you will not love me anymore once im all wrinkly and old."

"you know that's not true", with a clink sunoo keeps down the applicator on the washroom marble top, he swears he would pull you in the most endearing kiss if you two didn't have this pink moist layer on your faces, "and to answer your question, yes. i would still love you if you were a worm."

"but i didn't ask that question?!" "i know you would eventually."

you smile ear to ear, small wrinkles forming on the corners of your eyes as they squint and curve. sunoo's previous suggestion is completely ignored by you, and he himself doesn't abide by it, striking you a bright grin.

this little skincare session could've waited till the sunrise but what to say, your boredom took over and the next thing you know is doing each other's skincare routine.

"i love this face mask. it's pink and lavender scented", you mumbled to yourself, picking up the container sunoo just put down.

"but i don't smell lavender?", a frown forms on sunoo's face quickly as he scrunched up his nose, smelling the container lid again. and when he snatches the container from you and reads all over it, his eyes circle into horror.

"wait", he whispers, his face falling, "....is this expired?!"

jungwon (장정원) 、 "I can't sleep", you whisper while rolling over and practically letting all your body weight on your boyfriend laying next to you.

"me too", he sighs, tackling your body to his side of the bed and holding you close.

but the next thing you know is that you have your boyfriends blue and white hoodie on, standing in the middle of a random aisle in the 24/7 supermarket. you watch jungwon surf through the different snacks showcased in the aisle, and no matter how much he would compliment a different snack he would still buy the same chocolate strawberries.

"so what are we here for again?", sighing, you stand next to jungwon as he carefully reads the ingredients on the back of a cookie box, which you don't think will eventually make it's way to the empty shopping basket.

"weren't we bored? plus we can't sleep", jungwon mumbles and surprises you as he tosses the vanilla cookie box into the shopping basket.

"woah", your mouth forms an 'o' shape along with your eyebrows moving up, "what happed to the regular chocolate strawberries?"

"well i guess it's time for a change!", jungwon puts on a smug smile, knowing you despise vanilla cookies. but you are no better. you nod your head and your hands find their way to the mint chocolate ice cream box soon enough, "if you want vanilla cookies then i want mint choco."

"oh that's not happening", jungwon rolls his eyes, chasing after you down the aisle. "if you don't want it to happen then put down the cookies!", you give back an even meaner eye roll.

the supermarket total had six people inside it, including half asleep cashier and a punk teenager trio. they watched you enter and now they stood watching you both bickering, with jungwon insisting on the getting the cookies and you not letting go of the mint chocolate tub.

but at the end the basket is indeed carrying the chocolate strawberries to the counter, with your scowls turned into happy, content faces and bodies clinging to each other in the cold night.

riki (니시무라니키) 、 you have been urging riki for as long as forever, to go on a painting date in one of those aesthetic eat and draw cafés.

but our guy riki is efficient. he agrees yes, but on a random thursday. at quater to 1 am. in your house. on the already messy floor. instead of preparing for your final terms next weeks, you are busy painting each other in the most hilarious way possible.

"this is gonna be the bestest portrait of you, ever", riki chortles as he gathers his knees upto his chest, hiding his canvas behind them.

"uhh nobody has ever drawn a portrait of me?"

"that's why i'm the best boyfriend", he says proudly.

you already know what's going on on his canvas. last time he drew you, you could hardly recognize yourself except your outfit. you expect quite the same outcome for this time as well.

"ta-daaa~", riki finally reveals his long awaited portrait of you. you giggle at it and crawl your way to sit beside him. this one melts your heart, on the canvas riki doodled you and all your favourite stuff— from sanrio characters to ramen bowls, cats, skirts, coffee cups to even a small nishimura riki at the corner. he chirps, "how is it?"

you reply to him by pressing a kiss to his cheeks, watching them turn redder by the second. "cutest thing ever", you mumble, resting your head on his shoulders.

riki ruffles your hair and presses his cheek on top of your head.

but of course, this beautiful moment had to be ruined because you can't catch a breathe. your phone rings with a notification beside you and when you take a look at it, your back is straightened and a scowl takes upon your face.

"really now?! they preponded the exam!"

"o-oh no baby when is it?", a worried riki asks.

"tomorrow is my calculus paper!"

© bywons, 2024. do not copy, translate or upload any of my works without my permission.

(📌) :: TAGLIST IS OPEN! @euncsace @aueyi @leaderwon @dimplewonie @yrhome @heartswonn @jwonistic @aaasia111

[clearnachopirate]

School Dance Episode of DBD... HEAR ME OUT

like, crystal is back in school but feels weird going to the dance w no one else since all her old friends hate her, so the boys go invisibly, dressed to the nines (Charles is in an ugly ass suit from the 80's, Edwin barely looks different) and the boys spend the night accidentally ruining other people's nights (somehow they cause three couples to break up, Crystal thinks it's hysterical) and theres something supernatural going on at the dance (love potion style for someone to get their crush to dance w them or something)

naturally, charles accidentally drinks it, but no one notices bc he literally ACTS THE SAME toward Edwin

the big moment is when they're too late to stop the person's crush from drinking the "potion" (its orange soda or smth) and it doesn't work.

que edwin trying to track down who /actually/ drank the potion. this is abt when charles realizes what happened, and spills to crystal. the second half of the episode is edwin following clues, charles trying to misdirect him, and crystal giggling watching them.

at the end of the night (after a really awkward convo w edwin where edwin ultimately says something along the lines of 'Well, I should have expected the potion not to work. Not only are you a ghost, but our aspiring witch /clearly/ needs to find another calling. Charles is now incredibly confused about his sexuality and spends the next ep or two thinking abt it) Charles apologizes to Crystal for ruining her first school dance since she lost her memory.

Crystal, naturally, informs the both of them that she couldn't have had a better time, and that watching them both run around like chicken with their heads cut off was more fun than stuffy slow dances anyways.

It's marked down as the 'The Potion Switch of '24'

Crystal calls it 'The Case of the Obvious Infatuation.'

[sturnlova]

Matt’s long john (M.S)

(Matt Sturniolo x Female reader)

( Warning : Smut, new to writing, not proof read all the way, pet names, breeding kink and other ones, i don’t know what else 😭 )

Matt : Blue

Y/N : Pink

Chris : Orange

Nick : Purple

( Word count : 900)

—————————————————————————

“Next up, we have Matt’s long john” Chris bursted out laughing due to matt’s stunned reaction to Chris’ words.

Me and Nick where in the background as Nick said in a frightened voice “ why would you ever say that” i giggled as i walked past Matt and whispered in his ear “ am i gonna get proof?” Matts ears and checks turned pink due to my words, i just walked away and sat on chair next to Nick waiting for the next donuts.

Time skip

Nick was fast asleep and i was just facing his back on my phone scrolling through TikTok until i got a snap for Matt, it’s not like it was weird for us to text but we didn’t really text on snapchat as i barely used it.

I opened the snap to be shown with a 8 and a half dick with a pink tip and a vein running down the side with matt’s hand holding it, and the text reading “ here’s ya proof” i could hear the Boston accent through the text.

I was still in a state of shock but snapped out of it to slowly make my way to Matt’s room.

I got out of Nick’s room silently and went to Matt’s room forgetting i had the tiniest shorts and a Calvin klein bra.

As i was about to open the door it swung open before my eyes to be meet with matt with dangerously low plaid pants showing his v-line and a happy trail along with no top on.

He grabbed me the waist and kissed me passionately, i started clenching my thigh to attempt to get rid of the growing heat between my thighs.

Matt noticed this and asked me if it was okay to remove my bottoms “ it’s okay Matty, remove my bra well you’re at it, don’t forgot your pants to” Matt removed all of our clothes and threw it somewhere in his room.

He kicked the door closed with his foot and placed me on the bed, he pulled me to the edge of the bed and started fingering me as he whispered praises in my ear.

I just moaned in response, but i needed more than his fingers, “ Matt please fuck me i need it.” and with that Matt added his length to my tight hole stretching me out.

He gave me 30 seconds to adjust but it was definitely not enough time as he started pounding into me” FUCK MATT SHIT YOURE SO BIG, FUCK I DONT KNOW IF I CAN HANDLE IT” i moaned insanely loud as he cut me off with his fingers that were once in me.

Nick called me, Matt saw this and made me answer the phone to talk to Nick.

“ Y/N are you in Matt’s room FUCKING him?”

Matt continued thrusting in me even though i was on call with his brother.

“ no nick i’m- i’m ju-just in his room .. bec- because you were sleeping and i go- got b.. bored.”

“Ok?? Are you ok you’re stuttering a lot?”

“ I’m o-okay i’m just not really focused, we are w-watching a sh-show”

“Ok well come back soon i still need a cuddle buddy.”

and with that i threw my phone across the room.

“ Good girl, lying to him just for you can get fucked by me, nearly got caught with the way you stuttered. Am i fucking you dumb ma?” “ yes fuck Matt you are.”

He kept on ramming into me, it was a speed i didn’t even know was possible, with every thrust hitting my g-spot i must’ve had 3 orgasms.

He licked the tears that feel from my eyes, and stated “ pretty girl can i fuck my babies in you? make you carry a mini me? you gonna let me fill you up?” He started whimpering as his thrust got slower and i was fucked dumb to the point i was barely able to respond, so i just silently moaned yes in response hoping he heard.

He released in me mixing both of our fluids together as i also came undone underneath him.

As he pulled out our juices started coming out but that didn’t last long since he pushed it back in my sensitive hole making me moan.

“Can’t waste any of it”

Matt carried me to the bathroom and placed me down on the toilet to pee, after i did my business he cleaned me and asked if i wanted a shower “ no thanks i can’t stand i’ll have one in the morning” “ Ok Y/N will you sleep with me tonight?” “of course i will Matt”

Matt changed the bedsheets and put me in his over sized top and some boxers, he put his boxers and pants back on as we laid in bed together to drift asleep.

We were interrupted by Nick coming in “ Y/N i get it you and Matt fuck now but i still need my cuddle buddy, also keep the fuck down kid.”

[meazalykov]

one shot with one heart

lena oberdorf x uswnt!reader

summary: what if germany and the united states made it to the semi-finals of the 2023 world cup? how would the two lovers handle it?

disclaimer/warnings: guilt, longer fic, i took real life events from the uswnt vs sweden match, and mallory never got injured before the world cup in this fic.

to you, the stadium could’ve stretched for miles filled with red, white, and blue colors– also white, red, orange, and black colors. 

one of the semi-finals of the 2023 women's world cup came down to germany and the united states. the other game involves australia and spain. 

you didn’t care so much about the oceania country and spanish country going head-to-head. at least for now. the world cup has taken over your mind for the last few months.

back in your home in munich, you pushed yourself during your games in the bundesliga. you’ve been with bayern munich since 2021, after a transfer from manchester city. at first, it took some months for you to settle in a new place. you’ve been away from your hometown of washington dc for many years, so readjusting wasn’t new to you. 

then, you’ve made friends with your entire team. your closest friends being lea, sydney, and giulia– until georgia and sam tagged along in the later seasons. 

lea schuller, your bestest friend, threw a small gathering at her apartment on a winter night in 2022. at first, you didn’t want to go. you had many chores that needed to be finished in your apartment– laundry, dishes, vacuuming– you name it. however, you suffered from a tiny case of FOMO. you decided to go at the last minute. 

as you were walking into lea’s apartment, you saw two girls that you knew from wolfsburg. being the only non-german in the room you were surprised. lea introduced you to jule and lena– since you’ve never talked to them before. except for clashes during the rivalry games. 

lena and you hit it off right away. everyone noticed how neither of you could leave the other alone. a month after talking- which happened to be a week after your birthday– lena came to visit you from wolfsburg and asked you to be her girlfriend. you said yes– and you guys have been happy since. 

the long-distance between wolfsburg and munich hasn’t been as hard as you guys have suspected. you both hoped that you will be closer together someday. 

now the game between germany and the united states ended in a 3-3. lea scoring a brace and alex popp with a goal for germany— sophia smith, lynn williams, and you scoring one goal for the united states. 

the semi-finals needed a winner. so after no goals for both sides in extra time, the game came down to penalty kicks.

andi sullivan, number 17, takes the first shot in the penalty match. you look ahead, not wanting to blink in case you missed something big. 

she scores! you let your arms wrapped behind mallory and sophia go as you clapped in support. you didn’t want to celebrate too much, since this penalty match can go either way. 

you turn your head to see your bayern teammate, giulia, stand at the penalty spot. you swallow in nervousness as you hated to wish that she missed. 

giulia scores! you hear all of the german girls, just 20 feet to your left– support your club teammate as she runs back to her line with a light smile. 

you look down at the grass before seeing your national team captain, lindsey, go up to kick. 

in your heart, you knew that lindsey wouldn’t miss. after her swift kick, you clapped in support knowing that you were right. 

alexandra popp took a shot and didn’t miss, which caused your breathing to slow a tiny bit. you were nervous. even though you won the world cup at the age of 18 in 2019– you are ambitious and want your second by 22.

as kristie stepped up, you had a faint smile. the mewis sisters were the older sisters you wished you had as the older sibling of your own family. a small amount of hope shined through your fears as you saw the back of kristies head look forward at berger. 

kristie scores! you pump your fists into the air as she runs back to the run with you. this time, she high-fives your hands before falling back into line. now, she is beside you on your right– with mallory to your left side. 

you were distracted at the thought of kristies penalty kick– so your eyes widened when you saw your bestfriend at bayern– sydney– go and take the penalty shot next. again, you felt guilty about wanting her to miss the goal.

and then she did. sydney’s foot launched the ball far into the crowd which made you relieved. the germans in the crowd sigh as the americans cheered. in your heart, you wanted to comfort her– in your mind, you were relieved that she missed. 

mallory’s right arm slowly leaves your waist as she heads towards the penalty spot. she was next. 

“you got this swanson!” you yelled, hoping that she heard you over the loud crowd. she is one of your best friends on the national team and you knew a goal would lift her nervous spirit. 

she didn’t get it, she missed. your heart dropped to your stomach as mallory walked back into line beside you. the ball she kicked was successfully blocked by berger on the right corner.

klara, one of your bayern teammates you love, goes to take a penalty kick. she missed which caused the german crowd to sigh in disappointment. 

all of your fans, friends, and family knew that you weren't enjoying this. in fact, you would’ve preferred a 90 minute game with a clear winner over this climactic scene. 

lena’s parents saw you briefly before the semi-final game and wished you luck. they’ve looked and loved you like one of their own. obi’s mother saw the nervous look in your eyes and reminded you that they would still love you even if you beat germany. 

you have the same nervous eyes looking ahead at sophia smith going to take the penalty. your stomach turns and your eyes widen at the realization of her kick. 

if sophia scores, the uswnt goes to the world cup finals. the entire country is looking at sophia on their tv screens. you can’t imagine how that would feel on the girl who's months older than you. 

when the ball goes above the goalpost, you frown as sophia covers her face with her hands. at first, you thought she started crying. you weren’t too far off. sophia tried to cover her sad looks with a poker face that wasn’t working. 

after she got back in line– on the opposite side of mallory from you– you reached your arm from behind and patted on sophia’s back. you wished you could’ve done more in that moment. 

your heart beats hard as you look ahead at your lover jog to take the kick for germany. you find yourself glued to your spot, a knot of nervousness tightening in your stomach. 

you want to cheer for your girlfriend, to hope she scores, but the conflict within you is undeniable. a small part of your mind, the part driven by the fierce desire and competitiveness to see your team advance, wishes for her to miss. 

the guilt that accompanies that thought is overwhelming, making it hard to breathe. some of your teammates tilt their heads through the line to try and look at you– seeing a nervous and guilty look plastered on your face. 

kristie and mallory, standing beside you on both sides, notice your inner turmoil through your clenched jaw. 

kristie glances at you, her eyes filled with understanding. she knew the feeling after facing australia in the olympics against sam. however, she couldn’t imagine a scenario where penalty kicks were involved.  

she already had her arm wrapped around your back, so she takes her hand and squeezes your shoulder gently, a silent gesture of support that steadies you momentarily. you’re reminded that your teammates do acknowledge you and the significance of lena being on the opposite team from you. 

lena is your rival on the club level, but that is nothing compared to a world cup semi-final.

on the other side of your body, mallory does the same thing kristie did, her hand resting reassuringly on your lower back.

you stare at lena’s body the entire time, refusing to blink. lena takes a deep breath, and you do the same, feeling the tension grow tighter within you. 

obi steps forward, striking the ball cleanly. for a fleeting moment, you hope, and you fear— you feel everything all at once.

when the ball passes alyssa’s fingers, going into the back of the net– lena jumps and yells in celebration as she jogs back to her teammates. you look at her the entire time with a straight face, but your eyes showed your small happiness for her. 

you love her so much. seeing her happy makes you happy, even with these circumstances. 

alyssa removes herself from the goal-post line and goes to the penalty spot. the older woman told you about her love for taking penalties before. the woman in green gave you a sense of confidence. 

“come on alyssa!” you yell as your teammates yell in encouragement for her. 

as her shot sprints past ann’s fingers, going into the net, you pump your fists into the air knowing that you trusted your goalkeeper to score.

now the penalties are 4-3. this terrified you. 

on the lineup, you were the penalty kicker that went after alyssa. as an attacking midfielder, you were good at penalty kicks. if the next kicker, which looks to be svenja huth walking to the penalty spot, misses— the fate of the uswnt going to the world cup final depends on you. 

you silently curse at the scriptwriters who could make this shit up. y/n, the american girl who plays in a german club and has a bunch of friends on the german national team along with the love of her life, might have to crush their dreams of being in a world cup final.

svenja’s shot was blocked by alyssa. the ball slammed right into alyssa’s gloved fingers. your heart sunk to your stomach and suddenly, your legs felt like lead that could snap in one wrong move. 

the weight of the semi-final settles on your shoulders. it's your turn, and the realization hits you— if you score, the uswnt will advance to the world cup finals, possibly leading to their fifth win ever. 

your entire team on the pitch yells words of encouragement at you. 

“you got this, y/l/n!!!” you hear julie ertz’s voice. 

“we love you!” naomi gave you reassurance. 

all of your german teammates felt fear in their bodies as they saw you walk up to position the ball on the penalty spot. out of anyone that could take the deciding shot, they were shocked that it was you. you can handle pressure, but not as much as others can. 

lena swallowed on nothing as she stared at you, the same way you stared at her taking the shot. instead, she knows that you will win the game if you make the goal. 

she knows what's at stake, both for her team and for yours. the wolfsburg midfielder is questioning how you’re handling the pressure. the tension in the stadium is suffocating, and she can feel every heartbeat echoing in her chest. 

her teammates notice her tension, offering silent pats on the back the same way the uswnt did for you with her kick, but lena barely registers them.

she bites her lip, her hands clenched tightly together, her gaze fixed solely on you as if you were the only one in the stadium. 

the stadium is a cauldron of noise. the german supporters are trying to distract y/n while the american supports hold their breaths due to the intensity of the situation. 

you managed to block it all out, focusing on ann-katrin berger, germany's goalkeeper. her eyes lock onto yours as she gives you an intimidating look, a silent challenge passing between you.

"this could be it, folks. it all comes down to y/n l/n. one goal to send the united states to the world cup finals for the fifth time." a male commentator speaks to the tv audience, where millions of people have their eyes watching your every move.

"y/n has been phenomenal this tournament. her goal from outside the box earlier could be nominated for goal of the tournament, but can she handle this pressure? this is the moment where the legends are made." the female commentator speaks up alongside the man. 

“she was just 18 years old when she assisted rose lavelle’s goal in the last world cup final against the netherlands, she has the quality that can send the united states to another win.” the male commentator defends you. 

"that's true– but we know that ann-katrin berger has been solid for germany. will she rise to the occasion or will y/n find a way through?" the woman responds. 

the world seems to slow down as you take your steps back, your mind focused solely on the goal ahead. the stadium seems to stop as you begin your run-up, each step is measured, and your heart pounds in your chest.

“y/l/nnn!” the commentator drags your last name as your foot strikes the ball cleanly, watching as it sails toward the goal. 

ann dives, her fingers brushing the ball as it was stopped over the goal-line. from your eyes, it looks like the ball went over the line. however, you know you’re biased. 

your heart stops for a quick second—did she save it? the ball did hit the ground just behind the line, and the stadium erupts in a series of shock.

your shaky hands cover your dropped jaw as you stare at the ball that lays behind the net. 

ann and you run to the assistant ref who stands closeby, ready to protest your sides. 

"was it in? did it cross the line?" you begged through for shaky hands. your lungs force itself to take deep breaths as you felt tortured, 

"the referee is checking var now, wait!"

you stand frozen as your eyes couldn’t even blink, your heart in your throat. 

the referee waits for confirmation as her fingers hold onto her ear-piece, the seconds stretching into what feels like an eternity. 

the first thing you do is turn to look at your coach, who nods his head in support. he knew you made it, but the refs made the final call. 

suddenly, you look back to see the ref staring at you. at the same second she blows the whistle and points to the center circle—- FINAL GOAL! 

all of the nervousness in your body was replaced with an overwhelming rush of relief. your teammates on the pitch and benches sprint towards you in excitement after hearing the whistle. 

some of them tackle you to the ground and they all start a pile in excitement. their cheers echoing in your ears as they embrace you. all you could do was giggle and tear up in excitement, the nerves overwhelming your tired body.

on the other side of the pitch, the germans stand in shock–. their faces are a mix of shock and sorrow, the dream of reaching the world cup final snatched away in that single moment by their bestfriend and girlfriend for lena. 

your closest national teammates, trinity, tierna, and mallory, are the first to reach you after, their faces alight with joy. this is ten minutes after the VAR call, so you calmed down from the excitement that took over your body. 

they embrace you tightly in a group hug, shouting praises, songs and congratulations. 

as they pull back from your warm body, they notice the fake smile on your face. through your eyes they can see the guilt and sadness etched on your face. also, they reflected the inner turmoil you’re struggling to hide throughout this happy moment.

"y/n, we're going to the fuckinggggg final thanks to you!" trinity exclaims, hoping that she misunderstood the look on your face. her smile fades slightly as she sees your smile come and go in the same moment.

tierna places a comforting arm around your shoulder. "are you okay? you don't look happy for someone who just sent us to the world cup finals."

mallory, always perceptive, follows your gaze to the german benches, where lena sits in denial– beside laura freigang who has tears in her eyes. 

“you're sad about lena?"

you nod, your heart felt heavy. your national teammates knew how in love you were with lena. they’ve heard about her throughout your international breaks. there is never a day where you aren’t on facetime with lena when you’re back in the states for camp. they’ve met lena once and love how much you both care for each other. 

"i– i just know how much this meant to her— i feel like i just snatched something important from her." you say as your eyes wander around the german benches. you see many of your bayern teammates sad, you hope they didn’t hate you. 

 

“i’m scared too– you guys might be my teammates here but most of the girls over there are my club teammates in germany. I don't know what to do.” you confess.

the washington spirit forward pulls you into a side hug. "awhh sweetie it's okay to feel that way. your feelings are valid but thi is just the nature of the game. they all know that– lena understands that, even if it's hard for them right now."

you bite your nails out of bad habit as you stare at tierna’s cleats unintentionally, “i might give obi space for a few days– i don’t want to poke into the wound.” you mumble. 

"no no no! you need to go to her. lena needs you right now more than ever even if you think that she doesn’t. she loves you."

mallory nods her head in agreement after taking a sip from her water bottle. 

"obviously it's going to be tough for her to move on from this loss, but she knows you're not her enemy. she knows that you might feel guilty as much as she feels hurt. she needs her love right now, not her american opponent."

after a few more minutes of girl talk, your heart pounds as your feet carries you to the german benches, fear taking over your insides. 

what if she resents you for this? what if the loss drives a wedge between you?

you gripped onto your black windbreaker jacket as you step closer to the benches. before you could reach lena, you feel a tap on your shoulder. 

“good goal, y/n.” alexandra says. you pull her into a hug as you breathe deeply. she wasn’t your teammate at bayern, but she knows you due to lena. she is the captain so she knows how much importance you have in lena’s life– just as much as lena has in yours.

“thank you– i’m so sorry.” you mumble as you pull away from your body. 

“don’t apologize. you deserve the win.” alex gives you a faint smile and pats your back.  

“yeah but–” you cut yourself off as you turn your head to look at lena, who had her head in her hands. 

“obi needs you– go talk to her.” alex says before stepping away from you. 

you play with the zipper on your windbreaker as you approach your girlfriend. she sits on the bench and can’t see you with her hands on her eyes, so you kneel down to be eye-level with her. 

“obi baby..." you place your hands on her shoulders, rubbing them back and forth as you pull her attention.

in a quick motion, she reaches out and pulls you into a tight embrace, her body shaking with disappointment. she wasn’t crying with tears, but you know she would’ve if she wasn’t in public. lena didn’t want another euros 2022 aftermath to happen to her.

"lena, you don’t understand how much i hated doing that to you, i’m sorry" you whisper, your own tears starting to fall. 

"i know. I know. it just... it hurts so much right now." lena clings to you, her grip firm yet trembling. she hasn’t felt this way since the EURO 2022 finals. you give mini kisses on the side of her head, hoping to comfort her in some way after taking away her chance to go into the world cup finals.

“i'm here for you baby, always. i’ll stay with your for a few weeks once we are back in germany before the pre-season– i am so sorry." you mumbled the last part a few times.

as the minutes pass, neither of you broke away from the hug. the noise of the stadium fades into the background. 

all of the german and american players give you both space, understanding the delicate situation between you both.

trinity, tierna, mallory, savannah, sophia  watch from a distance, their support unwavering. they didn’t know lena much, but everyone knows that lena would never hate you over this.

“you played so good y/n. i am so happy for you, please don’t believe otherwise. it's just... hard to accept the loss right now."

you nod, understanding her pain. you place your hands on the side of her face as you gave her a hopeful smile.

“i love you obi baby, i’m sorry.” 

“stop apologizing— and i love you more liebe.” 

<3