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moonsandmobilityaids · 3 months ago

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Hogsmeade

Pairings: Poly!marauders x disabled!reader Summary: It's the first hogsmeade weekend of the year. Warnings: N/A Series Masterlist

Sunlight filters through the small window of your bedroom, casting a warm glow on the stone walls. The room, an extension off the Gryffindor common room, is modest but comfortable, equipped with everything you need for accessibility while maintaining Hogwarts' old-world charm.

The air carries a chill, hinting at the crisp October morning outside. You've always been attuned to changes in weather—each shift brings a new challenge for your body to navigate.

With a soft sigh, you push back the covers and sit up, pausing for a moment as you gather your strength. Your muscles protest, stiff from sleep and cool temperatures, but this is nothing new. Carefully, methodically, you stretch, coaxing each joint into motion. It’s a dance you’ve perfected over time—a delicate balance between pain and necessity.

"Hogsmeade," you murmur, reaching for your chair. It waits faithfully by your bedside, sturdy and unassuming. "Time to get started."

Dressing warmly is not just a preference; it's a requirement when every draft sends tendrils of pain creeping along your nerves. Today's ensemble includes thick socks, trousers, and a sweater so soft it's like being enveloped in a cloud. Lastly comes your favourite cloak, its deep red fabric lined with fur—not real, of course.

You run your fingers lightly over the swollen joints of your hands, tracing their shape. They're different now, sometimes unrecognisable. Healers at St Mungo's are stumped, as are the muggle doctors—they can ease some discomfort, but they can't quite figure out why your body continues to wage war against itself.

Just as you're finishing up, a knock sounds at the door. You glance towards it, heart skipping a beat despite your expectation.

"Come in," you call out, voice steady.

The door creaks open and three familiar faces peer through: Remus Lupin, Sirius Black, and James Potter. They've been friends since first year, their loyalty never wavering—even when others turned away, unsure of how to handle your changing circumstances.

"Morning, sweetheart," James greets, his tone warm as he crosses the room in long strides. He leans down, cupping your face gently before pressing his lips to yours. It's a kiss that holds promise—the promise of a day filled with laughter, shared glances, and touches that speak volumes more than words ever could.

Remus is next, moving forward with a gentleness that mirrors his nature. His smile reaches his eyes, crinkling around the edges as he bends to press his lips to yours. The kiss is slower, softer—a balm for any lingering pain or anxiety from the morning. His hand rests lightly on the back of your neck, thumb tracing small circles against your skin.

Lastly, Sirius steps up, a grin tugging at his lips. "Don't want to feel left out now, do we?" His voice is playful but there's a tenderness beneath the teasing. He dips his head, capturing your lips in a kiss that manages to be both light-hearted and grounding all at once. When he pulls away, his forehead lingers against yours, dark eyes dancing with mischief.

For some, the dynamic might seem strange—four hearts intertwined so intricately—but for you, it's simply... right. Each kiss holds its own meaning, every touch a testament to the bond you share. There's no jealousy, only love that overflows, filling each corner of this centuries-old castle and beyond.

"Finally ready, I see," Sirius exclaims with a dramatic flourish of his hand, "we got sick of waiting. Primping in front of the mirror again, babe?"

James shoots him a glance before turning back to you, his eyes softening. "Ignore him, he doesn't understand the art of taking one's time."

You chuckle at their banter, shaking your head slightly as James helps adjust the cloak around your shoulders. There’s something comforting about this morning routine—something grounding in the way they all move with such certainty, never questioning themselves.

"Here." Remus extends a pair of gloves towards you, his fingers brushing against yours as you take them. His touch is light, almost hesitant, but it carries a weight that has nothing to do with physical pressure and everything to do with the silent understanding between you.

"Thank you, Remus," you say, pulling the gloves on slowly, savouring the warmth that spreads from your fingertips up your arms.

Once you're ready, the four of you make your way through the castle, your wheelchair moving smoothly over the stone floors worn smooth by centuries of use. The boys fall into step beside you, their presence a constant reassurance. It's not just about having someone to lean on when the pain flares—it's about knowing you're seen for who you are, not what you can or cannot do.

As you roll along, Sirius playfully nudges your chair, causing it to swerve slightly. You laugh, swatting at his arm while James feigns disapproval. But there's a twinkle in his eyes that gives him away, mirroring the affectionate grin on Remus's face. These moments—the teasing, the laughter—they're threads woven into the fabric of your relationship, binding you together even tighter.

There's an ease to it all, a rhythm born from familiarity and care. Every look shared between you and the boys speaks volumes, every touch conveys more than words could ever hope to. This is your normal, your everyday—a dance choreographed by the beats of four hearts entwined.

The corridors of Hogwarts unfold before you, and you move through this maze with an ease born from years of navigating these ancient halls—a dance between stone and wheel that's as much a part of you now as the spells whispered under your breath.

"Watch out, mate," Sirius grins, nudging James aside to push your wheelchair faster. The sudden acceleration draws a laugh from you, echoed by Remus' low chuckle. It's a sound that brightens the dimly lit corridor, bouncing off the walls like some merry spell gone rogue.

There are whispers, of course—classmates who don't understand the bond you share with the boys, their eyes wide. But such murmurs fade into insignificance against the steady rhythm of your relationship, drowned out by the laughter that lingers in your wake.

James slows his pace, falling back to walk beside your chair. His hand finds yours, fingers intertwining with a familiarity that sends warmth flooding through you despite the castle's chill. He leans down then, pressing a quick kiss to your temple without breaking stride.

It’s a simple gesture, one made countless times before, yet it holds a significance that goes beyond the physical—the meeting of skin and soul, a promise carried on the whisper of a breath. In its wake, a blush blooms across your cheeks, not from embarrassment but from the potency of emotions that refuse to be tamed.

He straightens up, his gaze lingering on your face for a beat longer than necessary before returning ahead. But he doesn’t let go of your hand, keeping it nestled in his own as if to reassure both himself and you of the connection that binds you together.

His lips quirk into a small smile, nearly hidden beneath the curtain of his hair—the kind reserved for shared secrets and silent conversations. It mirrors the softness in his eyes, a tenderness often concealed by bravado but always present, always waiting just beneath the surface.

The autumn air outside is sharp, cutting through the layers you've wrapped around yourself. It stings your cheeks and nips at your nose, but you welcome it—a stark contrast to the stuffy castle corridors.

"Bit nippy," Sirius comments, pulling his jacket tighter around him as he steps behind your chair once more. There's a rustle of fabric before his hand rests on your shoulder, a silent promise that he'll keep the chill at bay.

You shiver slightly, not from the cold but the sudden change in temperature—it always seems to affect you. Your joints ache, a dull throb that grows with each passing moment under the crisp sky. But you don't mention it; there's no need to dampen the mood with complaints about pain they can't alleviate.

Besides, you have Hogsmeade to look forward to—an escape from the towering stone walls of Hogwarts and the confines of routine. Just the thought of exploring the quaint village again brings a warmth that counters the biting wind.

The anticipation isn't just for the change of scenery or the prospect of Honeydukes' sweets melting on your tongue. No, it's also for the company—the way James' eyes light up when he finds some new trinket to show you, how Remus loses himself in the shelves of Tomes and Scrolls, or the mischievous grin on Sirius' face when he hatches another one of his schemes. These are the moments that make every twinge of discomfort worth enduring.

"Here we are," Sirius announces, pushing open the door to Honeydukes with a flourish. The scent of sugar and chocolate washes over you in a wave, so potent you can almost taste it on your tongue. Students from Hogwarts fill the shop, their robes a blur of house colours as they bustle around, grabbing handfuls of every sweet imaginable.

James manoeuvres your chair through the crowd, his hand firmly holding yours while Remus and Sirius clear a path ahead. They reach a quieter corner near the shelves stacked high with Chocolate Frogs and Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans. It's not much, but it's enough space for you to breathe without feeling crushed by the bodies milling about.

"Hold this." James thrusts a wicker basket into your lap before disappearing between the aisles. He reappears moments later, arms laden with an assortment of candies that he dumps unceremoniously into the basket. There's a gleam in his eye when he spots a box of Fizzing Whizzbees, one that speaks of mischief and shared memories. "You've always loved these."

Sirius snorts at his friend’s earnestness, though there's a softness to his gaze as he watches James fuss over your favourites. "I think Prongs is trying to buy the entire store for you before I can."

The corners of Remus' mouth twitch upwards, threatening to break into a full-blown smile. "Wouldn't be the first time."

"Oi!" Sirius barks out a laugh, swiping a bag of Jelly Slugs off the shelf. "We're going to need a bigger basket if you keep adding stuff like that!"

Remus shakes his head, amusement dancing in his eyes as he watches Sirius pile more sweets onto the growing mountain. "You do realise she won't be able to eat all of this, right?"

"I know," Sirius grins, shrugging nonchalantly. "But I can help with that."

Your lips curl into a smile despite yourself, drawn into their banter just as easily as always. The warmth inside Honeydukes seeps into your bones, chasing away the chill clinging to your skin and soothing the ache pulsating within your joints.

"I want a kiss." Remus murmurs, leaning down to brush your hair back from your face. His fingers are gentle, tracing the curve of your cheek before he presses his lips to yours. It's a brief kiss, grounding you with the warmth that spreads through your chest.

Remus pulls back just enough for your eyes to meet, searching your expression as if trying to read an unwritten story there. He doesn't speak, but the question lingers in the air between you. Are you okay? You respond with a small nod, not trusting your own voice to break through the tightness constricting your throat.

Before you can say anything more, Sirius swoops into your line of sight, nudging Remus aside with a playful roll of his eyes. "Move over, Moony," he drawls, leaning against the counter with a smirk playing on his lips. "You're hogging all the good parts."

Sirius kisses you then, bold where Remus was gentle. One hand cups your jaw while the other roams along your arm, pulling you closer despite the lack of distance. He chuckles against your mouth, a low rumble that vibrates through you with every beat of your heart. It feels like a promise—a vow to make up for any gentleness Remus might have shown.

With a last glance at the candy-filled shelves, you and the boys leave Honeydukes behind. The bell above the door jingles merrily as you exit, marking your departure from a world of sweets and into the crisp winter air once more. You move on to your next destination—not far now—the Three Broomsticks pub beckons invitingly just up the street.

As James pushes open the heavy wooden door, a wave of warmth washes over you, carrying with it the rich scent of butterbeer and roasting meat. The noise inside is a comforting hum—laughter, clinking glasses, the occasional shout—a symphony of life that wraps around you like a warm blanket.

"Over here," Sirius calls out, gesturing towards an empty corner where he's already pulling chairs away to accommodate your wheelchair.

James guides you through the crowd, his hand gently resting on your shoulder while Remus follows close behind. Eventually, you reach the secluded corner where Sirius waits. The table is worn but clean, bearing the signs of countless meals shared between friends, lovers, families—stories etched into every grain. He pulls out a chair, making space for you among them, clearing away the remnants of someone else's day.

Remus settles across from you, passing around steaming mugs filled with hot chocolate, each one topped with a generous dollop of whipped cream threatening to overflow. "Careful," he warns, though his lips twitch upwards when James makes a show of lapping at the foam before it can drip onto the table.

"Always am," James grins, wrapping an arm around your waist as he scoots his chair closer to yours. His fingers trace idle patterns along the fabric of your jumper, a silent declaration of presence, of protection. When his lips touch your hair briefly, you lean into him, finding comfort in the steady rhythm of his breathing.

Sirius drapes one arm casually over the back of your chair, his fingertips brushing against the nape of your neck. It's a subtle contact, just enough to remind you he's there.

"Oi, Prongs," Sirius calls out, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he leans forward, elbows resting on the worn wooden table. "Remember when we snuck into Slughorn's office and swapped all his potions labels?"

James grins, running a hand through his already disheveled hair. "How could I forget?" He chuckles, shaking his head at the memory. "Thought for sure we'd get caught."

A wave of laughter ripples through your small group, drawing curious glances from nearby patrons. You lean back in your chair, letting the sound wash over you like a warm blanket. It's moments like these—when the world narrows down to the four of you—that make everything else fade away.

Across the table, Remus watches you, his lips curving into a gentle smile. He pushes his half-drunk mug of hot chocolate aside, reaching across the small distance to take your hand. His thumb brushes lightly over your knuckles, a silent promise wrapped in a simple gesture.

"You alright, love?" There's concern etched into every line of his face, but it softens when you squeeze his hand in reassurance.

"Just enjoying the company," you reply, your voice barely audible above the din. But he hears it, just like he always does. And for a moment, everything feels right again.

Suddenly, Sirius bursts into another fit of laughter, slapping James on the shoulder so hard that the other boy nearly chokes on his drink. They tumble into a playful wrestling match, knocking over chairs and attracting even more attention.

Remus rolls his eyes but doesn't pull away, instead using the distraction to lean closer. His breath ghosts over your cheek before his lips brush against yours—a fleeting touch, yet enough to quicken your pulse. When he pulls back, there's a hint of pink on his cheeks, visible even under the dim pub lights.

"Subtlety, Moony," Sirius teases, having extricated himself from James' hold. "Ever heard of it?"

Remus shrugs, a sheepish grin tugging at his mouth. "Can't say I have."

"Clearly," Sirius retorts, though there's no bite in his tone. Instead, he reaches for you, fingers brushing against your jawline before tilting your chin upward. His grey eyes meet yours, holding your gaze as if daring you to look away. But you don't—or rather, you can't. Not when he's this close, not when his touch sends shivers down your spine despite the fire crackling nearby.

And then he's kissing you too—not a stolen peck like Remus', but something deeper, hungrier. It steals your breath away, leaving you dizzy and wanting more. But as quickly as it begins, it ends, and Sirius is pulling back, his smirk replaced by an uncharacteristic blush.

"See?" he says, clearing his throat and looking anywhere but at you. "No subtlety needed."

“Always a competition with you boys,” you tease, shaking your head.

****

The sun dips lower in the sky, casting long shadows along Hogsmeade's quaint cobblestone streets. The village is bathed in a warm, golden glow, a stark contrast to the chill that seeps into your skin as you make your way back towards Hogwarts with James, Sirius, and Remus.

Despite the cold, it’s manageable with them around—body heat from four people combined does wonders against the chill. But even then, you can feel the shiver sneaking up on you, prickling at the base of your neck before spreading down your spine.

Remus notices first, his hand slipping onto your arm as he asks if you're alright. His thumb brushes soothingly along your sleeve, providing warmth where there was none.

"I'm fine," you assure him, but your voice trembles slightly, betraying the lie. "Just... a little colder than I thought."

James isn't far behind, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you closer. His lips press against your forehead—a soft, lingering kiss that makes you forget the cold for a brief moment. You lean into him, allowing his body heat to chase away the chills.

"Better?" he murmurs, his breath ghosting over your skin.

"Thank you," you whisper, your words carrying the weight of more than just gratitude for their warmth. It's an acknowledgement of everything they've done for you, all the ways they've stitched together the broken pieces and made you feel whole again.

They understand—each in their own way—and respond with subtle nods or tight squeezes of your hand. No more words are needed as Hogwarts' towering silhouette grows larger on the horizon, its familiar stone walls a beacon guiding you home.

Once inside, the warmth envelops you immediately, chasing away the last remnants of the chill clinging to your skin. It's in stark contrast to the icy air outside, as though stepping through these doors means crossing into another world entirely—one where the harsh realities of the cold are kept at bay by roaring fires and thick stone walls.

Even so, whispers follow you through the corridors, curious eyes tracking your every move. But their words fall on deaf ears, lost amidst the rush of thoughts swirling within your mind. What do they matter when compared to the boys who never leave your side? To them, you're not just another student—they see past the facade to the person beneath, understanding more about you than anyone else ever could.

"Let it go," James murmurs, his hand finding yours as Sirius pushes your wheelchair. His fingers squeeze gently, a silent reassurance that cuts through the noise around you. "We don't need them to understand."

You nod, taking comfort in the familiarity of his touch—the steady rhythm of his pulse echoing your own. With Sirius and Remus flanking your other sides, you feel protected, surrounded by an invisible barrier that wards off the prying stares and unspoken questions.

Back in the safety of your room, the boys help you shed your heavy winter clothes. They're careful and patient, ensuring each layer is removed without causing further discomfort. Once free from the confines of your coat and scarf, you sink onto your bed, a sigh escaping your lips as the soft mattress welcomes you.

Sirius is the first to join you, sliding under the covers with grace despite his size. He wraps an arm around your waist, drawing you close until his chest is pressed against your back. The heat radiating from him seeps into your skin, replacing the lingering cold with comforting warmth.

"Better?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper. You turn to face him, burying yourself deeper into his embrace. A small smile tugs at your lips—your answer clear even without words.

Remus follows suit, moving to your other side with a gentleness that belies his strength. He slides an arm under your pillow, tilting your head towards him until you're nestled against his shoulder. His fingers trace idle patterns along your arm, the light pressure sending waves of relaxation through your tired body.

"Rest now," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead. His breath fans across your skin, carrying a hint of mint and something uniquely him. You let your eyes flutter shut, surrendering to the pull of sleep that grows stronger with each passing moment.

James is the last to join, situating himself next to Sirius while keeping one eye trained on you. Despite the limited space, he manages to find a comfortable spot and his hand finds yours under the blankets, fingers weaving together in a familiar dance.

#Poly!marauders x reader #poly!marauders x you #Sirius black x reader #Sirius black x you #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x you #james potter x you #james potter x reader #marauders era #marauders au #marauders fanfic

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roseharpermaxwell · 1 year ago

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RWRB FirstPrince Roommates & Neighbors Recs - Part One

All the oblivious pining, cuddly bedsharing and forehead kisses your heart can handle. Click below for my faves!

thigh'm in love with you by @cheesecurdsgravyandfries. E, 1.8k. Henry has a date.

Alex knows, because for the last four months, his roommate’s choice in soundtrack as he primped and preened before a date has been extremely consistent, and there’s no way Good as Hell, All About That Bass, and Dancing Queen playing consecutively is a coincidence tonight.

too worried to be sleeping by viciouslyqueer. G, 2.7k. Just as he’s getting ready for bed, Alex hears something in the apartment next to his – it sounds like glass shattering on the floor. Then, the voice of a man, choked up, like he’s been crying.

and i don’t get much sleep most nights (i’m seeing you in every dream) by @autiespring. T, 2.9k. “Alex Claremont-Diaz can’t sleep.

He sighs heavily and clambers out of his bed, shoving his feet into his slippers and opening the door to his bedroom.

The thing is, insomnia isn’t new. He’s been like this all his life.

The ADHD diagnosis is newer.”

two nights where alex and henry can’t sleep and one where they can (a love letter to neurodivergence)

all's well that ends well to end up with you by karish. T, 3k. “Fuck, thank you, you’re a lifesaver, Hen,” he says as he closes the small distance between them and places a faint kiss on Henry’s lips.

His lips are soft and Alex melts into it for a second before pulling away. He bumps their noses together for good measure before stepping back and grabbing his bag from the chair. When he turns back to look at Henry, he’s still standing still, his eyes wide and his mouth hanging open. Alex can even see a dark flush starting to spread over his face. It looks cute. Alex wishes he could–

Oh.

Oh shit.

Fucking goddamn shit.

He just kissed Henry. Fuck.

So, Kiss Me by onesmoluke. M, 3k. Just a wholesome getting together fic

Alex is a poli-sci major and he's been in love with his roommate Henry for years. Things finally come to a head when Henry makes a slightly ridiculous request.

From the prompt: "Could you kiss me? I need it for writing purposes."

the conclusion literally any normal human being would come to. by @chaa-kiao. M, 3.2k. My [21M] flatmate [20M] gives me forehead kisses when he thinks I'm asleep. How do I ask him to do it when I'm awake, too?

Henry and Alex are roommates quarantined together. Henry takes to Reddit when Alex's behavior gets too confusing for him to sort out on his own. Surely this will have zero impact on their completely platonic relationship, right?

kiss me like you've got nowhere to be by @anincompletelist. M, 3.2k. In the three years they’ve lived together, he thinks it’s safe to say that he and Alex have gotten… close. The kind of close that other people like to point out sometimes when they’re in public, and not just their overinvolved older sisters and overly suggestive friends. A few of Alex’s colleagues have made comments when Henry shows up at the holiday parties or after a stressful work day to make sure Alex is eating and staying hydrated, just the same as Henry’s clients each know little bits of odd Alex-facts that he lets slip sometimes in his sessions.

Regardless, it’s all terribly domestic, and the twinge of satisfaction Henry gets when Alex’s dates don’t go well is most definitely not appropriate, even if they are kind of in a weird, probably mostly platonic, very codependent relationship. If he’s not careful, Henry’s going to get himself so, so hurt one of these days.

Mambo de la luna by @clottedcreamfudge. E, 3.4k. Fuck. God, this is so bad. It would be so much better if he just wanted Henry for the way he moves his hips and the fact that he has the flexibility of a double-jointed yoga instructor, but instead he just wants to… hold him??? Sure, fucking him would be a nice bonus, but the one thing he wants more than anything else is to be following Henry into that room and curling around him before they fall asleep.

Henry is a stripper, Alex is his roommate. The stripping part isn't the problem.

sacred new beginnings by Standinginmoonlight. NR, 3.4k. Alex Claremont-Diaz doesn’t get sick.

Or: Alex Claremont-Diaz gets sick and Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor looks after him.

only bought this dress (so you could take it off) by @coffeecatsme. E, 3.8k. “Take off your pants, show me your dick, and you’ll see. I’ll pleasantly admire it from afar, I can even offer a few compliments about the size if you want a boost to your ego—”

“I don’t need—”

“But,” Alex presses before Henry can continue, “I’m not going to touch you because, as I made it incredibly clear, I’m not gay. So.” He waves his hands in a gesture that he hopes conveys, go on. “Take off your pants.”

Or, Alex realizes some things about himself. Henry helps.

every constellation hiding in the sky of your body by coffeecatsme. T, 3.9k. He's straight. Alex is pretty sure he’s straight. Yet sometimes he catches Henry move around the room with just a towel wrapped around his waist, he glances over to find waves of blond fallen over his forehead, he meets those blue eyes and the shy smile Henry only saves for Alex and wonders.

Or, the one in which Alex is drunk and has a lot less impulse control when it comes to Henry.

In my dreams (In your dreams) by @lizzie-bennetdarcy. E, 3.9k. He opens his mouth to tell Alex it's fine, they can stay, when Alex shakes his head. "The room is spinning. That's not fun. Alright, sweetheart, let's go home." He jumps up from the stool, and immediately lists sideways into Henry. "What will it take to get you to carry me home?"

"More than you're prepared to give, I'm afraid." Kiss me, marry me, have my children, please.

Alex is very drunk, and very affectionate, and it's becoming increasingly difficult for Henry to pretend like he isn't completely in love with him.

Play Me a Song by @three-drink-amy. G, 4.1k. Every night, like clockwork, Alex's upstairs neighbor plays the piano for two hours, giving Alex the motivation to sit and do his own work so that he can listen. One night, he leaves a letter for his neighbor to thank him for the music. When his neighbor comes to his door to thank him for the note, he finds it's the same cute guy he's been running into in the lobby.

blackout by rizcriz. T, 4.3k. When the power goes out, Alex and Henry are sitting in their living room watching the latest fantasy show to hit Netflix. Alex has his feet in Henry’s lap, and his head pressed up against the side of the couch. One of Henry’s hands is burning a hole through the thin spread of Alex’s pajama pants where it’s resting on his shin. Everything goes out like a flash of lightning, but it takes a moment for it to really register that they’re left lying in the dark.

When it does, Alex sits up, the backs of his calves pressing into the firm weight of Henry’s thighs. He tries not to think about that, though, even as Henry’s hand tightens around his calf. The moon’s shining through the window, so it’s not like they’re blanketed in total darkness, but when Alex looks at Henry, and Henry looks at Alex, the shadows drifting over his face, it feels as if all the light has been sucked out of the world entirely.

Or, Alex and Henry have a conversation by candlelight.

your name has echoed through my mind (i just think you should know) by vibrantsaturn. T, 4.6k. Still in a frenzy, Alex grabs the thermos. Says, "thank you, baby. Fuck, I love you." He raises himself on his tip toes and presses a quick kiss on Henry's lips with a hand on the back of his neck and bolts with Pez in tow. Just before the door closes, he sees Henry standing there stunned, his fingers on his lips.

They take a few steps until Alex just. Stops. "Pez, did I just-"

"Tell Henry you love him? Kiss Henry without realising what you were doing? Yes," Pez says in a daze and Alex curses. Fuck, how is he going to face Henry now?

Alex realises he's in love with Henry after playing Fuck, Marry, Kill and he does not know how to deal with it.

It Was Never Home Until You Were There by earth_to_alex16. T, 5.1k. Henry and Alex are roommates that share a bed - Henry during the day and Alex at night.

How can a connection form when they've never met?

Or, The Flatshare AU that no one asked for.

Always Where I Need To Be by @cha-melodius. T, 5.4k. Alex doesn’t even know how he does it most of the time. He’ll take his glasses off for five minutes while he’s working to rest his eyes, and somehow David will snag them off the coffee table and run off with them. He doesn’t chew them, thank god, but the slobber is bad enough. Plus, there’s the fact that Alex has to go on a search to find whatever random place he’s managed to hide them.

Except… the places the glasses end up don’t seem to be exactly random.

(Alex's new roommate has a puppy with a penchant for theft—and, seemingly, strong opinions on where Alex needs to be.)

No Sense or Sensibility by @inexplicablymine. T, 5.5k. “When and where was your first kiss.”

Oh shit.

The thing is… Alex actually has an answer to this one, it’s just a matter of admitting that it happened.

Kennedy’s. 7pm, Pub Quiz and Ice Cream. Every Monday ‘til death due us part. Alex liked his little routine, until Derryl got it in his head to host The goddamn Newlywed Game instead.

Not So Silent Night by @inexplicablymine. T, 6.1k. Sure, Alex can admit in the deepest recesses of his mind, at two in the morning, when the Liszt is playing forlornly like some kind of bugle call for grief, that whoever the fuck lives next to him is on another level with the keys.

Alex has no idea who his piano playing neighbor is, but Alex knows one thing for certain… This means war.

Don’t Wanna Be A Fool For You by @myheartalivewrites. E, 6.2k. Henry had always known it would come to this, in the end. That his ridiculous, unrequited, life-destroying love for Alex would always break his heart. He’d chosen to indulge it, because, if he’s being honest with himself, pulling away from Alex at any stage in their friendship would have broken him. He could have brought it forward or put if off, but the end result had always been inevitable. So he’d chosen to delay it, for as long as possible.

But he’s always had an extraction plan in place for when it became too hard. A fake family emergency. Some last minute thing calling him to England, the details unimportant. A quickly packed suitcase and a note stuck to the fridge. He has a credit card and his passport lives in the top drawer of his bedside table, where he can get to it easily. He has an open invitation to stay at Pez’s place, or Bea’s.

Henry had always known the day would come.

Henry and Alex are roommates, Henry is in love and Alex is oblivious. And then, ONE DAY…

Dreams that Keep Me Up in the Dead of Night by earth_to_alex16. T, 6.3k. Alex gets a little too honest when he's tired.

Oxford Days by myheartalive. E, 6.3k. "Alex’s new roommate is kind of a slut.

No. Strike that. Not kind of. Definitely. Definitely a slut."

An ode to slutty Henry.

Hide and Sneak by clottedcreamfudge. E, 6.7k. Henry shouldn't be here; 'here' meaning the flat he shares with his friend and unrequited crush, Alex, who is irreversibly straight and likes to walk around in his boxers like some kind of sexy torture device.

Alex, unlike Henry, is meant to be here, and here is where he is.

On their sofa in the living room.

Jerking off.

Can be summed up by the line, "If we don't touch each other, it's probably not gay."

It's a (Birth)date by Celaestis. T, 6.9k. 5 times Henry is oblivious that they're dating and 1 time he isn't.

like coming home by Standinginmoonlight. M, 7.3k. Although he doesn’t know it yet, Alex is screwed from the second Henry signs off his email with ‘best wishes’ like a Dickens character.

Or: the one where Alex Claremont-Diaz has been in love with Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor all along.

craigslist cutie (please don't go) by matherine. M, 7.7k. Here’s the thing. Alex is simultaneously very, very smart and very, very stupid. Nora calls it the Claremont-Diaz Paradox, and every time she does, June sticks out her tongue like she’s about twelve years old, and then Nora makes a comment about what she would rather June be doing with her tongue, and – okay. Off track. Not relevant to Alex’s current predicament, which is perhaps the most damning example of the Claremont-Diaz Paradox. Alex got himself into NYU Law with flying colors and LSAT scores in the 99th percentile, worked his ass off for three years, and graduated with honors and a crippling caffeine addiction. And then, because he is an idiot, he decided to take his JD, his potential, and his mountain of student loans to his brand-new job as a public defender.

Unfortunately, being a public defender pays about as much as working at a Hot Topic. Which means that Alex really needs a roommate. Like, pronto. STAT. ASAP. He’s not sure who’s desperate enough to move into the other room in his beautiful, probably-not-bedbug-infested 700 square feet of Hell’s Kitchen, but he really fucking needs to find somebody.

Craigslist is a last resort, but it does bring him Henry.

am i homophobic? (URGENT) (PLEASE HELP) by holdinggrudges. E, 7.9k. Now, it might be pretty early in the morning and Alex’s brain functions might not be working as quickly as they normally do, but he can still put two and two together. There's a strange man in their kitchen. Henry is shirtless, rumpled, and holding two pairs of boxers. Henry and this Sam guy slept together. Which… obviously is fine because Alex is not an asshole, but he’s definitely feeling something about this development that he will examine at a later date. But of course, instead of saying something normal, you know, like a normal person would, he says, “Ohh.” Like a fucking weirdo.

or: the "am i homophobic?" roommate au that no one asked for

The Kids Are Alright by earth_to_alex16. T, 8.3k. Renovations at the LGBTQ shelter bring Henry's work into his flat with his roommate Alex.

Henry is good at his job and deeply in love with Alex.

Can he multitask?

like I do by @smc-27. E, 8.5k. They live together and work together and Henry cannot go more than a few hours without seeing Alex, and it should be a problem but it isn’t. Henry likes Alex, and when he puts it like that, he hears the part of his brain responsible for his rooting in reality begin to laugh. Hard. Like is certainly not the thing Henry feels. He’s ignoring it.

(He’s failing, but there’s an attempt.)

Obliviously Devoted by @uglygreenjacket. T, 9.3k. She looks at him in the way only June can. She's the only one he'll allow it from without a fight. "I don't know if you're ready to have this conversation or not."

His fork clatters to the plate in front of him. "What is that supposed to mean?"

June sighs a sigh of long-suffering and pinches the bridge of her nose, before she looks him dead in the eye and sets his world upside down. "You know you and Henry are dating, right?"

Alex gapes at her. Mouth hung open, eyes blown wide. "W-what?"

"I say this with all the love in the world," she says. "But sometimes, I swear, you are the most oblivious idiot on the face of the planet."

Am I the Asshole? By @everwitch-magiks. E, 9.5k. AITA for spending Valentine’s Day with my roommate instead of my boyfriend?

It’s well past midnight on a Saturday and hardly the first time Alex has scrolled aimlessly on his phone instead of trying to sleep, but it’s definitely the first goddamn time Alex has discovered his roommate has made a lengthy post about last night’s curry debacle to r/AmItheAsshole — a post that’s apparently gone fucking viral.

In which Alex and Henry are college roommates, and a few thousand strangers think they should fuck.

Baby, it's Cold Inside by Celaestis. E, 9.8k. When winter officially arrives on November seventh, it’s with a bang. Actually, the bang is due to the building’s ancient heating system failing in spectacular fashion. It coincides nicely with a cold front moving down from Nova Scotia which means New Yorkers of all stripes are suddenly getting their winter coats and hats out earlier than anticipated. It’s not usually a problem. But then their building usually has heat.

red lights (they burn us out like kerosene) by vibrantsaturn. T, 10k. "We could go anywhere," Alex says and he's not sure why he's whispering. All he knows is that this moment is going to monumental in their lives.

"Anywhere?" Henry asks, his voice low, and there's a trace of wonder in his voice.

"Anywhere," Alex confirms, a soft smile on his face.

or,

3 times when Alex takes Henry on a drive to get him out of his head over the years, and the one time Henry does.

It's Getting Hot in Here (So Hot!) by Celaestis. E, 10k. Henry’s firm and unwavering belief in Alex’s hetrosexuality does wonders for their relationship. He can coexist with Alex in the same lobby for entire half-minutes at a time while checking for post, he can make solid eye contact during glances in the hallway. Alex is still the most beautiful man he’s ever beheld, and maybe Henry’s hook-ups are tending towards the Latino types more than they ever did in the UK, but still. Alex is straight. Henry is fine about it. Really.

you turned a moment (into forever) by viciouslyqueer. M, 10k. Sharing an apartment with Alex had seemed like a good idea at first. They’re best friends, prices in Brooklyn are absurd, and they had both been in urgent need of residence – it only made sense.

Except for the small, tiny, teeny, barely there fact that Henry has been in love with Alex from the first moment he laid eyes on him. And the fact that Alex doesn’t know, and can never find out.

Or, as coffeecatsme so eloquently put it: Roommates AU where Alex has insomnia and slips into Henry’s bed every night because it’s the only way he gets a good night’s sleep.

How to say 'no' to Alex Claremont Diaz (is a book Henry definitely could not write) by TwinMoonSun842. T, 10k. What do you do when you are very gay and your best friend/roommate/secret crush Alex Claremont Diaz asks you to help him out by letting him put a few hickeys on your neck? What happens when you like that a little too much? How do you go back to denying that you're pining for him when know what his lips feel like on your skin?

These are questions Henry would very much like the answer to.

take me out, and take me home by weather_stained. T, 11k. They’ve only been living together for two months, since Alex moved to the city for law school. Henry's Brooklyn apartment was a short commute to NYU, and the price was unbeatable, so he agreed to move in without even meeting the man in person. He was nervous, at first, to share close quarters with a stranger, but it’s worked out shockingly well; Henry is kind and considerate, and they mostly leave each other alone.

He’s also quite obviously gorgeous, and Alex doesn’t know why there isn’t a string of men coming and going from Henry’s room at all times, or perhaps one steady man. Inexplicably, Henry seems to have been single since Alex moved in in August.

AKA:

5 times Alex doesn't realize Henry's in love with him, and 1 time he gets a clue.

Lay Me Down in Sheets of Linen by He_is_half_my_soul. E, 14k. Alex may hate Henry's guts but when he gets thrown out of his apartment in the middle of fucking winter and with no warning at all he offers to room with him until he finds another place to stay. He is not a total monster.

Pour Your (He)art Out by @athousandrooms. E, 17k. Sometimes, after particularly rough nights, Henry will switch his first Earl Grey of the day for a latte. Alex learns this a month into knowing him. That’s not the only shock of the discovery, though.

“Oh my god, how are you real? Who does casual latte art for themselves on a weekday? Before you had coffee?”

Apparently Henry used to be a barista. Alex pokes at him, tells him it looks easy.

Henry raises his eyebrows, mouth curved at the corners like it’s guarding a looming laugh. “Would you like to try?”

A challenge. Alex loves those.

Or, five times Alex makes questionable latte art for Henry, and one time they make it right together.

just a figure of speech by @congee4lunch. E, 17k. henry, an omega, hasn’t had good sex in a long time. as his alpha roommate and friend, alex can help with that. in a totally platonic bro way, of course.

Five-Drink Henry by @whimsymanaged. E, 18k. Henry’s mouth opens then closes. He can feel a flush creeping over his cheeks, but he does his best to ignore it and hopes Alex will too. “Oh. Hello. Sorry, I’m—hi. Thanks for inviting me.”

Alex’s smile only grows, and he steps back to let Henry in. “You’re the first one here. Lucky me. Come on, I’m getting some margaritas going.”

Or, Henry’s new neighbour is a party-throwing, margarita-making menace, and Henry’s helpless against his charms.

What If (We Were Roommates) by Krissielee. M, 35k. "HOUSE/PET SITTER WANTED"

Alex never expected this when he replied to that ad.

(Alternative summary: Oh my GOD they were roommates)

Speak for Yourself by @welcometololaland. E, 106k. Alex could have walked out of the Williamsburg apartment at any time. Instead, he decides to sign up to twelve months of Henry.

Alex makes a rash decision and Henry inexplicably runs with it.

(The "accidental housemates" AU that literally no-one asked for).

(Art by @stardisnight - chapters 7 and 12)

I only tag an author once per post, but I'm still figuring out firstprince author handles. If you see one I may not know or find a broken link, please give me a heads up!

RWRB FirstPrince Roommates & Neighbors Recs - Part Two

Master List of RWRB FirstPrince Recs

Master List of Recommendations

#firstprince #rwrb fic recs #rwrb #alex x henry #red white & royal blue

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avakitsune · 11 days ago

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I wish I never wanted you.

Life isn't that simple. I can't will away the fact that the first time I saw you, my immediate thought was, "Oh, no. Not again."

But it was. And I bent over backward in an attempt to get your attention. Skipped class to groom and primp myself. Skipped my beauty school classes, by the way. I was so proud when I could call you mine.

You made me promise to only love you, which I'd never done before; I told you I'd only ever been poly, but you demanded monogamy. You demanded I write your research paper, too, after you took too much Vyvanse and gave yourself a nosebleed. You passed out on the front stoop, and I held you, comforted you. Then I wrote your paper.

You took videos of me while I was drunk. You showed your friends. I didn't know that you were recording until after the fact.

You fucked over our roommate because you wanted to live with your friend from high school. Our roommate had to move home to his parents because he didn't have any roommates left, and you moved in with a psycho who stole your food and poured bleach on your belongings. You decided to write satanic shit on his bikes and lamps. It got so bad that I had to pick your drunk ass up and find a new place for us to live.

We move in with our new roommate. You never even look for a job and are fucked up all the time. You blame me for your savings getting drained. I try to dump you, and we somehow end up engaged.

This is all before we even moved into our first apartment together. It's not even all of it. Fuck you for ever trying to make me believe I was the issue.

#maybe its aveline

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primptownklug · 2 years ago

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he/they polycule is wild

[writing id:

everyone we're dating...

so there's my-our boyfriend maguro and our joyfriend Sig and our boyfriend klug and their boyfriend Remy and Klug's boyfriend Ess who I like and Ess's boyfriend Ringo and their girlfriends feli and lidelle!

end id]

#puyo puyo #he/they polycule #poly shipping #half of primp is dating #and i didnt even mention all the ships

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puyo-fever · 3 years ago

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primp kid poly is great but I feel like it suffers from the same thing as most other poly ships where people don’t fully explore ALL their relationships. it doesn’t even have to be in a romantic way if it’s a pivot relationship, just general stuff like “oh we’re dating the same person, wanna go play video games sometime?” or “hey I know that you’re the only one not dating amitie but that’s why I need your help picking a gift for her the others are busy finding gifts for her too”

#also I’m incredibly biased but I prefer primp poly where feli is included too #puyo puyo

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cogaytes · 2 years ago

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here take this unfinished fluffy drabble from @loki-the-trikster-god’s college au ft poly professors tiergan + prentice + leto because my brainrot cannot be contained

Prentice is going to be late. Again.

As usual, it isn't his fault, and he curses his husbands' terrible sleep schedules internally before rising from the kitchen table to rouse the younger of his husbands. Luckily enough, as he's steeling himself for the wrath of a cranky Tiergan, the man himself staggers from the bedroom, rubbing his eyes as if on cue. His mane of blond hair is a tangled mess and sticking up in some places. Though he's still wearing his usual flannel pants and top pajama combination, this particular shirt positively dwarfs him. The Loki graphic only serves to confirm Prentice's suspicions: he's stolen it from Leto.

"Morning, sleeping beauty!" Prentice sings cheerfully, and Tiergan flips him off, grumbling under his breath about obnoxious early bird husbands.

"Is Leto out of the bathroom yet?" Not even waiting for a response, he calls into the other room, "Leto!" Prentice does his best to surpress a giggle.

"What time'd you get to sleep?"

"Somewhere around two. Stupid papers took me an hour longer to finish than I thought, and then I had to finish up Wylie's package." He raises his voice again. "Leto, for fuck's sake, stop primping so I can shower!"

"You're the one who wouldn't get out of bed until a half hour before he had to leave," Prentice teases, and he feels more than sees his husband fix him with a withering stare. He's saved from whatever snappy retort Tiergan is opening his mouth to deliver when the bathroom door opens.

"I'm not entirely ready yet, but Tiergan can have the shower." Leto runs his fingers through his hair, somehow still not managing to dislodge a single strand from the neatly parted style he's shaped it into with far too much gel. As always, his jacket is perfectly pressed, and he's chosen a striped shirt that matches his eyes perfectly.

Prentice moves closer, pretending to inspect it carefully, then swoops in to plant a kiss on his cheek. "Darling, your hair looks fine."

"Are you sure? I-"

"It's perfect, I promise." He adjusts his husband's collar, then presses Leto's coffee into his hands without another word. The mug's original dark blue color has faded, and it's chipped in some places, but Prentice can still make out the words "World's Best Father" scrawled in sloppy paint across the front. He smiles and runs his fingers across the matching "World's Best Papa" letters on his own cup.

"Aren't you going to get dressed?" Leto asks, eyeing Prentice's sweats and socked feet dubiously.

He wiggles his fluffy, polka-dot emblazoned toes. "What, is this not professional enough for class?" Leto snorts.

"I'm not dignifying that with a response."

Prentice mock-pouts. "Well, for your information, Professor Bossypants, I'm about to go change now." He sticks his tongue out at the other before placing his mug carefully on the counter and heading for the door.

#if you saw me post this to the wrong blog no you didn't #if it is messy or ooc i apologize #prentice endal #tiergan alenefar #leto kerlof #college au #mine

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leviackermanscleaningbuddy · 4 years ago

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BTS DRABBLE-One-Shot

Request: Poly!BTS Mafia AU

Tags: BTS, Bangtan, Bangtan Boys, Bangtan Seonyendan, Bulletproof Boyscouts, Beyond the Scene, BTS Drabble, Request, my asks, my requests, BTS fluff, Poly!BTS, Mafia AU, BTS x you, BTS x reader, Kim seokjin, min yoongi, jung hoseok, kim namjoon, park jimin, kim taehyung, jeon jungkook

Genre: Fluff

Title: Improbable, Not Impossible

The mafia is a dangerous place.

And this party, thrown by just the man you’re hoping to see, is a close second.

You lift your glass of rose to your lips, and careful not to smear your deliberately applied lipstick, you take a sip, discerning eyes scanning the sea of sharply dressed men and their overly primped wives.

It’s no secret that getting a meeting with the boss is a hard trick to pull.

But that’s exactly what you’re here to do tonight.

It’s all a matter of getting close to the boss’s inner circle, and you have never found that particularly hard to do.

A smirk creases your lips, hidden behind the dewy glass of your wine flute.

“You know,” A man slides into the seat at the bar next to you, and motions for the bartender to pour him a glass. “You really shouldn’t bring weapons to these sort of things, sweetheart.”

Speak of the devil.

You take another long sip of your drink, and glance at him out of the corner of your eye-dressed tonight in a cream suit that shows off his tan skin perfectly, dark brown hair pushed off his brow, accented by the glasses he wears delicately across his nose.

Kim Seokjin. UnderBoss.

Though he doesn’t look at you, his hand slides down in between your two seats, and his fingers trace up the skin of your calf, revealed through the high slit of your evening gown, his movements stopping just dangerously short of your thigh. He plucks out the concealed dagger, and raises a brow at you, a slightly twisted smirk crossing his full pink lips. “You promised me you’d show a little extra decorum this time around.”

You reach out, plucking the lit cigarette from between his lips before he can protest, and snuffing it out in the nearby ash tray, you shrug, offering him a smirk in return, as you settle back into your chair once more, crossing your legs delicately at the ankles. “And you promised me you’d quit smoking. Yet here we are.”

Seokjin laughs, a charming, deep sound within his chest, and reaches out for his drink, eyeing you over the rim as you reach out to straighten his crimson tie. “Enjoying the party then?”

You shrug again, carefully passing your eyes over the room once more, before you refocus on the right hand man at your side. “I’d much rather have this meeting done and over with so I can go home.” You quip back honestly, knowing Seokjin will find your starkness refreshing.

He chuckles again, setting his glass down, before he leans toward you, and boldly sweeping his fingers across your cheekbone, he holds your gaze momentarily, as he says quietly beneath the music, “That’s what I’ve always liked about you. You never bullshit anyone, sweetheart.”

His fingertips, making contact with your skin for just one moment longer, leave the place they were resting tingling as he finally pulls back from you, and holding aloft his glass toward you, he offers you a handsome grin, as he declares, “A toast then. That you’ll get your meeting sooner rather than later.”

You laugh lightly, and clink your glass with his.

He downs the rest of his bourbon, and standing up with a sigh, he leans over to brush a kiss softly across the back of your knuckles, and with a look of acute disappointment, he complains, “Well, duty calls. Enjoy the party, sweetheart.”

And with that, Seokjin winks at you and with one last glance back in your direction, he disappears back into the sea of party goers once more.

Leaving the bar behind you after you finish your drink, you scan the room, wondering what to do next, when a familiar blank face catches your attention from the corner of your eye, and with a hidden smile to yourself, you weave through the raucous crowd of mafia, finally reaching the quiet corner of the hall where he stands.

“Are you as bored as you appear?” You ask coyly, leaning against the wall beside the man, not looking at him, as you follow his gaze across the sea of merriment.

Min Yoongi. Enforcer.

“Hah.” Yoongi lets out an unamused bark of laughter at your question, his eyes never leaving the dance floor, as his hand absentmindedly fingers the gun, snug in its holster, at his belt, just barely hidden beneath the sweeping tail of his suit coat. “You’re one to talk.” He glances at you briefly, for not more than a second, eyebrows raised and lips pulled into a thin line. “Don’t you get bored of wining and dining the many men you cater to?”

“Hmmm.” You hum under your breath, a hint of a smirk crossing your lips. “I suppose I do.”

You turn toward him, one shoulder still pressed into the wall, and reaching out, cover his long fingers with your own, as you push aside his hand and adjust the holster on his hip, before reaching up to straighten the lapels of his suit, the jacket patterned with gold print against the black, as you say with soft amusement, “Seokjin found my knife. He lectured me about my lack of decorum and bringing weapons to a party such as this.”

Yoongi stares down at you, as you move your hands to his tie now, straightening the red fabric just like you had done with Seokjin’s, and then he clears his throat, replying under his breath, “He’s right you know. What do you think I’m here for?”

“To look pretty?” You ask innocently, as you pause in your movements and glance up at him through your eyelashes.

“Bullshit.” Yoongi brushes your hands off of him, refocusing on the dance floor, his fingers once again falling to the weapon at his side, and when he speaks again, it is hurried words beneath his breath that you barely catch. “Besides, you’re the pretty one here.”

“What?” You ask, leaning toward him, teasingly motioning to your ear, as you say loudly over the music, “What did you say, Yoongi?”

“I said you’re the shitty one here.” Yoongi retorts, a slight red hue lighting the caramel skin of his cheeks, as he swallows and looks anywhere but at you. “Now leave me alone and let me do my job.”

You laugh, but do as he asks, leaving him alone with one more knowing glance over your shoulder, as you once more make your way into the crowds.

Making your way back to the bar for another glass of wine, you notice as you approach that there is a group of women gathered around someone, fanning themselves, lips pulled back into overly friendly smiles, as they listen to whatever the person on the inner circle is saying with complete and utter rapture on their faces.

And when you catch sight of who they’re giving all their attention to, you instantly understand why.

“Look, I can get you anything. Rubies, diamonds, emeralds, pearls.” The man in the gray suit is saying, wildly gesturing with his hands, his bow tie flopping with his animations, his dark eyes wide and bright. “Melda, you want another golden hairpin?” He motions to one of the younger ladies, and she blushes as his gaze is directed to her, and he grins, flashing sunshine from between the gaps in his perfectly white teeth, and you swear, half the ladies sigh audibly. “I’ll get you twenty.”

You lean on the counter beside the group, and taking a sip of your fresh glass, without looking over at the man, you interrupt, saying casually, “Wow. That’s a hefty promise.”

The women turn to stare at you as one, mouths open, some of them whispering behind their fans when they catch sight of you, but paying them no mind, you straighten, and finally meeting the gaze of the man, you offer him half a smile over the rim of your glass. “Your true worth, however, is not how well you buy things, but how well you sell them.”

Jung Hoseok. Fence.

Hoseok grins at you, and pushing through the women without another glance, he comes to your side, leaning against the bar, inches from your face, as he replies quietly, “Come on, baby. You know how well I sell.”

Your gaze drifts down to his lips as he talks, so close you can almost smell the mint chap stick that he always liberally wears, and without skipping a beat you quip back, “And I also know you’re quite the ladies man, Hoseok. So that trick won’t work on me.”

“Trick?” He pulls back slightly, eyes widened comically, as his lips part and he lets out a sigh. “Come on, baby. I wouldn’t trick you.”

“Enjoying the party?” You ask, pulling your gaze away from his, as you once again catch more than one woman looking in your direction, and at the tall, lanky, handsome man who stands beside you, dark hair falling over his high brow as he continues to stare at you.

“Much more so now that you’re here.” Hoseok grins that sunny, heart shaped smile once more, and then reaches into the inner pocket of his suit coat, fingers fumbling for something, as he says with sudden excitement, “Speaking of which, I managed to procure you a little something.”

“Really?” You ask with amusement, turning to him, brow raised, as he finally succeeds in finding what he is looking for and pulls it out.

In his outstretched palm is a necklace-golden and gleaming in the light, the centerpiece a large teardrop ruby, the rest of the twisting chain accentuated with smaller diamonds and sapphires, glimmering against the precious metal and the bronze of his skin.

“Reminded me of you.” Hoseok states simply, whirling you around so that your back is to him, as he lifts the necklace up around your neck and begins to carefully fashion the delicate clasp with nimble fingers, warm against your skin.

You reach up, letting your fingertips trail over the rivets of the necklace, where it lies, cool and comfortable, against the revealed, bare skin of your chest. “It’s beautiful.”

“Like you.” Hoseok smiles against your ear, his fingers finished now, his breath balmy on your cheek, before you feel him press a feather light kiss at the base of the back of your neck. “Stay out of trouble, baby.”

And then he is gone, off to procure more treasures and women from the night ahead.

You aren’t at the bar alone long though.

“Whiskey and rye, please.”

You fiddle with the stem of your wine glass, letting your eyes drift over, nonchalantly, to the tall, broad man who now stands beside you at the bar, fingers drumming on the marble, as he reaches up to tiredly rake a hand through bleached blonde hair.

You note, almost immediately, the checkered pattern that wraps around the very expensive, and perfectly fitting, suit he is wearing.

“I almost didn’t recognize you without your police uniform.”

The man, taking a sip from his freshly delivered drink, glances at you with dark walnut eyes over the rim of his shot glass, before he lowers the glass from his mouth and offers you half a smile. “Hopefully this is a better look.”

Kim Namjoon. Dirty Cop.

“Oh, very.” You lean on the bar, looking him up and down openly. “You clean up rather well.

He chuckles, cheeks darkening a little at your outright compliment, and takes another gulp of his drink before saying, glancing out at the crowded room, “Big crowd tonight.”

You sigh, stepping in front of him, catching him by surprise, as you reach up to straighten the collar of his suit coat, replying softly, and with a touch of annoyance, “Boss Klein loves to make an entrance.”

Namjoon watches you for a moment, staring down at you, and then he reaches up, the silver ring on his pointer finger glinting, and covers your hands with his own, stopping your movements, waiting for your gaze to meet his, before he murmurs to you, “Not as much as you.”

You cock your head, corners of your lips pulling up in the hint of a smile as you regard him, before you lean up on your toes, and brushing a kiss airily across the ridge of his sharp cheekbone, you breathe back, “I do love an entrance.”

Namjoon remains frozen, as you pull away from him, but not before you brush down the collar of his shirt one last time, before you wiggle your fingers at him and offer him a cheeky grin, as you turn to go, calling over your shoulder, “Come find me later.” You wink at him, enjoying the way his cheeks are reddening as you walk away. “After the party, we may be able to find a use for those handcuffs of yours.”

You’re still smiling smugly to yourself, when you exit the warmth and busy bustle of the ballroom in favor of the much cooler and quieter veranda that lies just through the double doors, overlooking the estate’s large and rolling garden.

Taking in a deep breath of the cold night air, you lean on the railing of the balcony, admiring the way the stars and moon reflect perfectly in the clear, gently lapping water of the huge fountain that dominates the courtyard below.

“Gorgeous, isn’t it?”

If you were anyone else, you would have jumped at the sudden voice sounding in your ear, but instead, you simply sigh, and taking one more lungful of the outdoor air, you reply, “It’s a beautiful night.”

“I was talking about you.”

You glance over at the man who is leaning on the railing beside you, white suit perfectly pressed, black shirt stark against his copper skin, ebony bangs falling into his eyes as he tilts his head and holds your gaze, something serious and passionate and dangerous swirling just beneath the layer of gold that lines his pupils.

Park Jimin. Recruiter.

“I bet you say that to every woman, especially the ones with influential husbands.” You retort sardonically, though there is a hint of a smile tugging at your lips as you regard him.

“Please.” He waves his hand, gold rings on every finger glinting in the dim starlight, as he shoots you an expression of dramatic hurt and shock, the look a glaring contrast to his beautiful, almost ethereal features. “You know I only have eyes for you, baby girl.”

“Hmmm.” You hum in agreement under your breath, glancing once more out at the wide, quiet expanse of garden before you.

“And if you don’t believe me,” Jimin has closed the distant between you in the blink of an eye, his hands resting on the railing on either side of your waist, effectively boxing you in, as you turn to face him with brow raised. His full, plump lips quirk into a cocky smirk, as his eyes, pupils widening and darkening, dart down to your lips with open hunger. “I can show you.”

“I’m sure you can.” You murmur under your breath, your own gaze drifting down to the way the rosiness of his lips contrasts perfectly with his skin tone. Reaching up, you carefully run the pad of your forefinger across the swollen, velvet skin of his mouth. “However, as much as I’d like to take you up on the offer, we both have other places to be.”

Jimin stares at you for one more long, molten moment, and then he rolls his eyes. “Dammit. You’re right.”

You pat the hardened muscle of his chest through the thin, black material of his dress shirt with just a hint of regret, before you duck under his arm and walk backwards toward the doors that lead to the ballroom, calling out over the now loud music back at Jimin, “Don’t have too much fun without me.”

He winks at you, lips pulling back up into a knowing smirk, as he gives you a little wave. “Stay out of trouble, baby girl.”

Walking back into the ballroom, mind still slightly occupied with the man you had left standing alone on the balcony, you almost run into someone, but thankfully, that someone has strong, muscular arms that grab around your waist and stop you from ungracefully falling on your face in front of everyone.

You glance up, slightly breathless, and brushing loose hair from your eyes, a grin draws across your lips, as you recognize the face hovering closely above your own.

“Is that a gun in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?” You imply teasingly, as the man straightens you back on your feet, although one of his hands remain firmly on your waist, fingers warm through the thin material of your gown, as he leads you out of the crowd and toward a less occupied corner of the room.

He returns your grin with one of his own, boxy expression showing off white teeth that gleam in contrast to his olive skin and jet black hair, swept back carefully off his forehead. “You know me, sweet cheeks. Probably both.”

Kim Taehyung. Informant.

“Thanks for the save back there.” You say, leaning against the wall when you reach the secluded corner, noting smugly, as you do so, that Taehyung has still not removed his hand from your waist.

“Eh.” He shrugs casually, sloping his shoulder into yours as he bumps you playfully, and glances down at you, the remnants of a grin still on his lips. “Any chance to get a hand on you.”

You laugh, and turning to face him, you reach up, pinching his chin between your fingers, as you turn his head from side to side, secretly admiring the way the light bounces off his sharp, high cheekbones and perfectly shaped nose and brow, as you say, “You look thin. Was being on the inside last week really that bad?”

Taehyung shrugs once more, and you admit, you admire his carefree attitude and the way things roll of him easily, when he replies easily, “Nah. Prison food isn’t as awful as they say. Besides.” He leans his shoulder into the wall, bringing the two of you closer together, as he suddenly grows serious, looking down at you carefully. “If the boss calls, I jump.”

“I know.” You release your hold on his chin, fingers hovering gently over the base of his throat, before you let out a sigh and settle on straightening his tie instead. “I’m proud of you.”

“Don’t go getting sentimental on me now, sweet cheeks.” Taehyung’s grin appears again, and you can’t help but return the smile, as he leans closer to you, before boldly reaching out for your hand, and pressing a lingering kiss into the creases of your palm. “I like you because you’re tough.”

“I know.” You repeat, as he pulls away, finally removing his hand from your waist as he does so, a noticeable absence of warmth following the movement.

“See you later, sweet cheeks.” Taehyung winks at you, and spinning on his heel, he waves to someone out of your sight, before he disappears around the corner of the room.

You sigh, leaning back against the wall behind you and taking this rare opportunity of quiet to close your eyes.

After a brief pause, you glance down at the watch that encircles your wrist, and let out a curse beneath your breath.

Shit. When was this guy gonna be ready for you?

As if on cue, as if someone had been able to read your harried and clearly frustrated thoughts, a hand taps your shoulder, and you glance beside you to see a younger looking man, dressed in a black inconspicuous suit, waiting expectantly for your acknowledgement.

When you turn to face him, he straightens his shoulders, and clearing his throat, he states immediately, “They’re ready for you.”

“About damn time.” You growl under your breath, pushing away from the wall, ready to stalk into the meeting with some fair words for whoever was involved, but before you can so much as take a step, fingers loop around your wrist, and you look over in surprise at the young man standing now much closer to you.

Jeon Jungkook. BodyGuard.

“Noona.” Jungkook hesitates, brown, doe eyes, seeming much too innocent to belong to someone in his line of work, watching you carefully, his fingers still encircling your wrist. “Don’t be rash.”

You take in a deep breath through your nose, releasing it slowly, as you consider his words, before you finally nod your head, once, jerkily, in acknowledgment of his statement. “Fine. I’ll ignore the fact that he’s kept me waiting this long. I’ll be civil.” You tug at his fingers snagged around your wrist and look at him pointedly. “I promise, Jungkook.”

Jungkook watches you for another long moment, and then releases his grip on you, before he nods, lips pressed into a thin line, as you start to walk in the direction of the study, just off the main hall, heels loud on the tiled floor, even though the atmosphere is filled with music and laughter and all together too much noise.

He follows behind you silently, always a step away, and when you push in through the door of the study to the scene beyond, you feel Jungkook alert and ever present at your back, eyes scanning the room defensively for any signs of danger.

“Good. You’re all here.” You say immediately upon entering the room, crossing the lush carpet, footsteps padded, to the desk that dominates the space and the chair behind it.

Jungkook moves behind the chair to join the other six men who stand silently, waiting-dark, well dressed figures against the moonlight from the window and the warm glow of the lamp sitting on the nearby table.

Seokjin. Yoongi. Hoseok. Namjoon. Jimin. Taehyung. Jungkook. All members of ‘The Scenes’.

The man and his bodyguards, who had stood upon your entry, bumble their way through a series of respectful bows in your direction, stumbling over themselves, before the main man, once again ducking his head in your direction, manages to choke out, “Boss (L/N)! We’re so sorry for the late hour. We didn’t even know if we’d be able to secure a meeting with you.”

You smirk, twirling a pen between your fingers, as you regard the simpering man standing before you.

Like you said- getting a meeting with the boss was improbable, but not impossible.

“Well, gentlemen.” You set down the pen, linking your fingers in front of you as you regard the obviously cowed and worried men before you with a smug smile. “Let’s talk business, shall we?”

(Y/N)(L/N). Boss.

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klugpuuo · 3 years ago

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Im curious: Do you have any headcanons for Raffina?

a few, actually! the silliest one is probably that she tried to start a "primp town fight club", which.. didn't go well, to say the least.

my first headcanon related to her was that she actually schooled satan (and later possibly also ecolo?) on the importance of consent and boundaries once she noticed how creepy he was. i made this headcanon before even playing any puyo games, but i'm super attached to it so i'll prolly keep it forever.

finally, what i think is the sweetest hc i have with her is that lidelle, feli, ess and herself are in a poly relationship, and they all help each other with their feelings of inadequacy/general badness.

that's all i think, and tysm for the ask!!/gen

#beeper responds #beeper canon #shipping #headcanons #aaand #puyo puyo #i hope i can maintag this;;

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veeples-archive · 4 years ago

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For Fiona/ Ava: 1, 8 and 11 please ? 😊

aw hi there!!! 🧡 thank you for the ask!!!

1. What are things they both find funny?

Fiona finds Ava's stoicism very funny (outside of Ava putting it up after getting Too Close to feelings) because it's obvious that Ava cares so, so much. Since Fiona is so open herself, it's funny in the way that she doesn't really understand why Ava finds it necessary even amongst her lil family.

Ava finds Fiona's humming while she primps in the mirror to be Funny (endearing). She'll fluff up her curls and hum the chorus of a pop song very earnestly.

8. What were their first impressions of each other?

Fiona: "I want to squeeze her biceps I wanna touch I wanna squee-- Oh she's mean. :/"

Ava: "Why on Earth is she wearing a dress in weather this freezing? She's not properly prepared for winter weather."

11. What causes them to fight?

I touched on this in the Poly!LT route Fiona also has with Ava and with Nate, but I think more and more Fiona comes to distrust the Agency. I mean supernaturals do frighten her, but she has nightmares about the supernaturals in their cages. She doesn't think it's right and refuses to accept that's the only way.

Put up against Ava's steadfast trust in the Agency, it is a very sore topic for them.

[OTP Ask Meme!]

#vee answers #ask meme #thank you for the ask again!!! <3 #fiona rosario #fiava

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gayclownshrine · 5 years ago

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losers club HCs

(kinda poly losers BUT if ur oblivious u cant tell)

stan: stan is always fixing and primping the others, rearranging curls, fixing eyebrows, smoothing out wrinkles in clothes. while most would see this as over bearing and rude, it’s 100% a sign of his affection (and also an excuse to be touchy)

richie: he learns songs on the guitar to play to each loser specifically, ranging from stupid shit like the wii music to bohemian rhapsody. he’s really good and always has a guitar pick in his pocket. (he’s totally busted into bill’s room playing the begining of sweet child of mine at 3 am)

eddie: even though he HATES blood and sickness he’s always carried pink band aids with him to patch up the others. (it’s mostly bill and richie because they’re super clumsy reckless ) and sends them off with a kiss.

mike: he loves cooking for the others, it’s a way for him to show love and spend time with them while they help out (mostly stan, bev, and ben) and hes the best cook by far, if mike is cooking you can guarantee everyone will be happy

ben: he’s CONSTANTLY writing poetry for everyone, whether it’s sweet and romantic and cheesy, or dumb and funny and laughable. they’re given at random and it always makes the other loser’s day when given one

bev: she leaves little notes for everyone around the house, inside jokes she has with the other losers, reminders about medication or appointments, little love notes, anything under the sun (they’re all saved and pinned to cork boards or tacked to the fridge or kept in scrap books)

bill: he paints each of the other losers often but he’s not quick to share his works with them (he’s really self conscious of his work) but since he spends so much time and they inspire him to no end, they tend to be the subjects of a lot of his works

#poly losers club #the losers club #it hcs #poly losers HCs #hcs #it chapter 2 #bill denbrough #stanley uris #mike hanlon #beverly marsh #ben hanscom #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrack #reddie #stenbrough #benverly #poly

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thesoftdumbass · 6 years ago

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It Starts With A Dance

Steve Rogers x reader x Bucky Barnes

Audie’s End of Year Challenge

Word Count: 3.2K

Warnings: dancing, mentions of alcohol, sarcasm and probably cursing, poly relationship

Summary: You’re forced to attend a gala with the team, but two handsome super-soldiers help you enjoy your night.

A/N: Hey you guys! I wrote this for @auduna-druitt and her writing challenge, and I’m a day late, which is not a surprise for me. Sorry, love! I chose the prompt Midnight Ball with Stucky x reader and I’m kinda nervous cause I’ve never written Stucky or poly relationships before, but I really hope you guys enjoy this. I didn’t edit it, and yes, I will accept constructive criticism!

There are three songs that I listened to on repeat while writing this, and I encourage you to listen while reading:

Lavender and Velvet by Alina Baraz | Electric by Alina Baraz and Khalid | Velvet by INHEAVEN

Main Masterlist | Marvel Masterlist

You knew when Tony called a mandatory Avengers meeting in the common area that it would not be a regular mission briefing, and it turns out you were right. As soon as you sat down on the couch, the billionaire swept into the room wearing a replica mask from Phantom of the Opera and holding a velvet cape in front of the bottom half of his face like a villain in a movie. Well, this meeting might not be normal, but at least so far it’s entertaining.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, this Saturday night, enter a world of elegance and mystery.” Stark drops the cape and holds his hand out, invitations fanned out like a deck of cards in his grasp.

From beside you, Wanda moves forward to take a closer look at the embellished cardstock but leans back in her seat, “No thank you,” leaving her mouth casually, not impressed.

“Well too bad, because you have to go.”

Groans ring out all around you as hands reach forward to grab the information, ready to read through. “I don’t know, you guys. It might be fun,” Natasha speaks up.

“Thank you, Widow,” Tony says appreciatively.

“-we might piss them off so badly that we never have to go to one of these again.”

“This is supposed to be a masquerade ball?” Bruce asks incredulously.

Natasha’s eyes narrow as she turns back to Tony. “Nevermind.”

Tony has to raise his voice a little to be heard over all of the grumbling taking place in the living room. “Listen, you guys! As Avengers we have a duty, not only to save the world but also to keep up relationships with politicians and investors. These people can make it even harder to do our jobs if they so choose, so we’ve gotta keep them happy. If that includes fancy parties with lots of champagne and small-talk, then that is what is going to happen.”

He completely ignores the comment made under your breath about champagne being necessary if you’re to tolerate a full night of small-talk with these people, rolling his eyes at you before continuing.

“This party is mandatory, so I want you all primped and ready for transport by 11:30 on Saturday night, the party starts at 12.”

“That’s after Cap’s bedtime,” Sam remarks and earns chuckles from around the room.

While everybody takes a moment to examine the invitations, Bucky raises a question. “We don’t have to dress in classic Venetian costume, do we?”

Your fellow Avengers raise their eyebrows, all looking at him as if not believing what he just said. Bucky’s eyebrows furrow and he crosses his arms across his chest in defense “What? I know things.”

“Formal wear and a mask, that’s all I’m asking, people. You have all week.” And with that, Tony left the room with a flourish, a flick of his arm sending the cape billowing out behind him.

Once Stark leaves, so do most of the other Avengers, escaping to put together their costumes for the ball. As you think about the contents of your closet and the options you have for a costume, there is a dip on the couch as two figures sit down on either side of you and a glance up tells you that it’s Steve and Bucky.

“You boys excited for the big party that we’re being forced to attend,” you ask dryly, not bothering to hide your distaste at the mandatory label being put on the ball.

You hear a deep chuckle and can’t tell which super-soldier it belongs to, luckily they speak up. “It might not be that bad, doll. Just think of it as an excuse to dress up and get tipsy,” Steve says and it’s your turn to laugh.

“That’s true, and at least I can get tipsy. That serum in your veins doesn’t really let you have much fun, does it?”

“Trust me, this idiot knows how to have fun and get into trouble while doing it. He just doesn’t like to while in the public’s eye,” Bucky says light-heartedly. “Besides, I can get drunk enough for the both of us!”

Steve reaches around you to punch Bucky in the arm, the hit doing nothing but cause Bucky to complain loudly, and you laugh to yourself. Once the action is over, instead of retrieving his arm from around your shoulder, Steve chooses instead to lean back on the couch and pull you into his embrace. Confused, you look up into his face to find his clear blue eyes focused on you, filled with something you can’t quite decipher.

Bucky keeps the conversation going as normal and you’re thankful, looking back down to your lap. “So what are you thinking of dressing as?”

You hum noncommittally, picking your phone up from your lap and turning it over in your hands. “I found a dress online that I like, now I just have to find a mask to go with it. What about you,” you ask, looking between the two of them.

Steve shrugs the arm still wrapped around you. “We’ll figure it out, won’t we, Buck?”

“Sure will, Stevie.”

After that odd, but not unwelcome exchange, your day goes back to normal as you head back to your room at the compound to figure out your plans for Saturday night. You can’t help but fixate on it for a while though, the comfort you felt being nestled between Bucky and Steve. You shake yourself out of it. All you need to focus on right now is getting this ball over and done with so you can go back to focusing on work and your everyday life.

You stare into the full-length mirror in front of you, turning from side to side to watch as the silver fabric of your dress sways elegantly. Taking a deep breath, you make sure that your makeup is complete, touching up your lipstick before placing the silver-gray lace mask over your perfectly done up eyes. You take one last look into the mirror before striding from your bedroom, the clack of your heels on the compound’s hardwood floors gives you the extra boost of confidence you need to make it through this night.

You walk into the foyer where you’re supposed to meet the rest of the team, but there aren’t as many people gathered as you think there should be. You could have sworn you were perfectly on-time, not too early. You glance over at Tony, who is tapping quickly on the screen of his tablet.

“Where is everybody,” you ask.

“You’re the last one here, I sent the rest there already in the first limo.” Stark finishes what he’s typing away, sitting the tablet on a table nearby and clapping his hands once loudly. “If you’re all ready, then let’s get going!”

You look around at your group, noticing Peter standing nearby, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he talks excitedly with Pietro. “Parker, how did you get roped into going to this gala?”

“Yeah, don’t you have homework or a 9 o’clock curfew or something?” Sam smirks while walking up to the group, happy with his joke.

“I asked if I could come! I love parties, and I thought this would be a good way to spend time with the team outside of missions.” You can’t help but smile at the kid’s enthusiasm.

“I’m just going so I can get drunk,” you hear a thick Russian accent beside your ear and breathe out a laugh, following Pietro in the procession of Avengers out the door and into the waiting limousine.

You walk into the venue, talking with Natasha and Sharon along the way, the silk masks over their eyes complementing each other and putting a smile on your face. As the three of you reach the doorway leading into the ballroom, you have to stop for a moment to take in the sight before you.

The decorations in the ballroom are almost nonexistent, but that only adds to the aesthetic of the environment. The only additions to the room are tall tables lined along the walls to hold drinks as people talk, the majority of the room open for dancing. Partygoers cover the dance floor, milling about and talking before the gala officially begins, and you join the crowd, looking at all of the different masks decorating their faces.

Tony heads to the front of the room, accepting a microphone from a staff member along the way.

“Welcome everyone to the 29th Annual Maria Stark Women’s Aid Gala! Tonight I want you all to have fun, dance, and be merry. Make sure you head over to the donation table and support the foundation, but not before you have plenty of champagne.” Tony gives an exaggerated wink to the crowd of upper east siders, who all chuckle along good-naturedly. “Without further ado, I’ll let the DJ take over for me, and I will see you all on the dancefloor!”

Applause follows as Tony leaves the stage and joins Pepper’s side, putting a hand around her waist and leading her onto the floor with a smile as the music picks up.

You’re talking with Maria and Rhodey when you spy someone walking toward you, holding eye contact as they approach. You tilt your head, watching the person that has grabbed your attention, when you notice the black mask with gold detailing, the mask reminding you of a Greek god and going perfectly with their black and white tux. Through the eye holes you can see the most familiar blue color, but before you can speak, the man is holding out a hand to you.

“Would you give me the honor of a dance?”

You take his hand with your own, and he leads you into the middle of the dancefloor as a new song starts playing. Neither of you talks for a few moments as he holds you, swaying you to the music with one hand on your waist and the other gripping yours, sending a pleasant warmth through you.

“You look gorgeous, Y/N,” he whispers softly, his lips brushing your ear.

You look away, hoping that he doesn’t notice how warm your cheeks have become. “I thought you said you never danced, Rogers.”

Steve smiles mischievously, twirling you around in a circle before pulling you into his chest, your head coming to rest on his shoulder. You giggle breathlessly and look up through your eyelashes, catching Steve gazing down at you, emotion thick within his beautiful eyes.

“I stand corrected,” you mumble, barely holding in the smile threatening to break out on your lips.

Steve shrugs his shoulders lightly, “Bucky’s been giving me lessons in our spare time.”

You nod, placing your head in the crook of his neck and just focusing on the feeling of being so close to him. The two of you are so focused on each other you almost don’t notice when the song changes, content to keep dancing. You dance three songs with Steve, talking the whole time. This is different than your normal conversations though, not only because of the occasional flirty comment from him but because now there is a tension between the two of you that you just can’t deny anymore.

You feel a hand tap your shoulder lightly three times, the interruption bringing you from your thoughts. You slowly move out of Steve’s arms and turn to face the newcomer, curiosity blooming when you notice who is looking back at you.

Bucky’s stormy grey eyes watch you from behind his matte black mask and your eyes are drawn downwards, noting how well he fits into his all-black tux. When you glance back up you see his tongue dart out to wet his lips and force yourself to look away, missing the way the corners of his lips quirk upward.

You feel a light touch on your hand and meet Bucky’s eyes, a softness taking over his features that you can’t resist. “Care to dance, doll?”

You let him take your hand and start to nod, but pause as a thought comes to you. You were just dancing with Steve, and while you don’t really want to leave his company, dancing with Bucky is an opportunity that can’t be missed. Looking to Steve for silent permission, he nods, and you notice a look of shared understanding pass between them. You don’t have much time to think on it, though, as you are pulled into Bucky’s front and held there gently by two hands on your lower back just as a new song starts playing.

His eyes look into your (y/e/c) ones and you are drawn in by the intensity there. Feeling brave, you move one of your hands from where it’s resting on his chest to the base of his neck, playing with the hairs that have come loose from the bun at the back of his head. A shiver passes through Bucky at the feeling and he chuckles low in his throat.

You hum along with the music drifting through the ballroom, getting lost in the dance and the feeling of being pressed against the super-soldier. Bucky brings a hand up to brush a strand of hair from your face, his knuckles brushing against your cheek in the process and bringing your stare back to him. His hand drifts just a bit lower, resting on the side of your neck and causing a breath to catch in your throat.

“Are you enjoying yourself,” he asks and you have to pretend that his touch isn’t affecting you.

“I am, actually.” Bucky hums in acknowledgment and you take that as your cue to go on, his gaze resting warmly on you. “I thought this would be stiff and boring, but I have had a good night. Plus, it’s great to see everybody dressed up. You look amazing, by the way, Buck.”

“Thank you, sweetheart,” he says and bites his lip, and you notice his cheeks pink a little at the compliment. You giggle softly, the sound sweet on Bucky’s ears and he looks up at you, a smile lighting up his face.

The song switches to a more fast-paced one and a squeal escapes you as you’re lifted off your feet for a few seconds and twirled around, the move reminding you of something you’ve seen in old movies. Laughter rumbles through the both of you as you’re placed back on the ground and you lean into Bucky’s frame, trying to stay upright.

Something catches Bucky’s attention over your shoulder after a moment and before you can ask what’s up, he is taking your hand in his and leading you off the dancefloor. You decide to just go with it, trusting that you’re in good hands. Once you’re off the crowded dance floor you spot a balcony door that you hadn’t noticed before, and that seems to be where he’s leading you. It’s only once you reach the French doors and exit the building that you realize you needed the cool air outside.

Out on the balcony, you’re met with the sight of Steve holding two full glasses of champagne, a third waiting on a table nearby. He beckons you closer with one of the glasses, handing it to you as you near and you thank him, taking a sip of the bubbly liquid. The location of the building you’re in gives a fantastic view of New York City in the distance and it pulls you in. You walk to the balcony railing and rest one hand on it, admiring the scene in front of you.

As you stand silently in awe, warmth surrounds you, and you notice that Steve and Bucky have joined your perch. You send a smile to both of them, but you feel a slight sense of awkwardness. Here you are at this ball with these amazing men, you’ve danced with both of them, and you can’t help but feel that you could be more. More than teammates, more than friends...one could only wish. Where was a shooting star when you needed one?

“Doll?”

You’re brought out of your thoughts when a hand is placed around your waist, the cool hardness of it permeating your dress and letting you know that it’s Bucky. His tender touch turns you in his direction and you look up into his face, hoping you don’t look as lovestruck as you feel.

“Yes, Buck?” You place your glass of champagne down when he reaches for your hand, holding it in his right.

You feel a hand caress your shoulder, the calloused skin grazing yours where your dress is exposed in the back and you shiver, the touch exciting you. Casting a glance, you see Steve behind you wearing a soft smile on his face, and you note that he’s removed his mask. You turn back to Bucky when he speaks again.

“I’ve admired you for a long time, Y/N, but lately I’ve realized that it’s more than that. I’m crazy about you, doll.”

“We both are,” you hear Steve next to your ear, ”and we know you feel the same.”

“R-really?” You curse yourself for stuttering. It’s hard to believe even one of the men before you would have similar feelings as yourself, but both of them? You think you may be dreaming.

“Of course,” Steve says at the same time you hear Bucky say “We would never lie to you, Y/N.”

Bucky must see the change in attitude on your face because he levels his gaze with yours, silently asking for permission. For what, you’re not sure, but you would never deny him. You nod and Bucky’s touch leaves you.

You whimper quietly, though you’re sure he hears it, until you feel Steve’s hands rest on your hips as he draws closer to you, now holding you with his chest pressed against your back. You watch Bucky’s hands draw up beside your face to the back of your head, untying the ribbon holding your mask in place. The silver-gray lace falls to the ground at your feet but you don’t care, staring into the eyes of one of the men that has just confessed feelings for you.

“So what does this mean for us,” you ask, uncertainty lacing your voice.

“It means,” Steve pauses to press a chaste kiss to your neck, “that we would both like to be with you. If you’d have us, of course.”

Your head drops back against his shoulder as relief and excitement fill you.

“So will you have us, sweetheart?” Bucky’s voice sounds hopeful.

You stand straight, pushing up to your full height with the help of your heels, and press a kiss to the corner of his lips, feeling him smile when you linger. You pull away, and you couldn’t stop the bright smile on your face even if you wanted to.

“I would love to,” you say emphatically.

“Let’s get out of here. There are too many people here, and we have a lot to talk about.”

You agree with Steve’s statement, stepping out of his arms so you can place a kiss on his cheek, grabbing both his and Bucky’s hand.

“Let’s go home, boys.”

Post-A/N: Alright, you guys, how was my first time writing Stucky? Please leave feedback below so I can know for future reference! Or ya know, just let me know if you liked it ☺ thank you guys so much for reading, and I’ll talk to you lovelies later!

Tags: @deanxfuckingadorablexwinchester @mad-girl-without-a-box @cd1242 @space-helen @izzy10718 @feelmyroarrrr @star-trekkin-across-theuniverse @vulcanaeris @killerbumblebee @kjs-s @starshiphufflebadger

If you’d like to be notified when I post something new, message me or send an ask and I will add you to my tag list!

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holdbeast · 8 years ago

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I think my favorite P5 character arc ending is Haru’s. I mean. The way she focuses on opening a small, high-quality cafe in her social link, and it’s presented as being some sort of incredible impossible dream? But then she informs Akira that oh btw that she’ll also be attending business school and masterminding Japanese Starbucks as part of taking control over her own life?

That is CLASSIC Haru.

The woman who calls herself Beauty Thief, who primps and poses like a magical girl, who takes down her enemies with a rocket launcher and a bloody axe.

The woman who is gosh so nice inviting Akira to a fancy hotel for lunch and oh right just fed him an elephant dung drink without telling him.

The woman who finds peace and serenity in her cutesy gardening hobby and oh wait is inventing entirely new coffee strains as well as SP-restoring vegetables .

I read Akira as poly, but the more I mull over this game, the more I love the idea of these two as primary partners. These violent, compassionate, theatrical, duplicitous nutcases deserve each other.

#haru okumura #akira kurusu #persona 5 spoilers #futaba and yusuke are my close seconds re character development #with ann and makoto in third #ryuji and morgana's arcs felt kind of unfinished to me #oh well

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itsallabouthome-blog · 6 years ago

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Few guidelines on finding perfect cushion for your home

You’ve had that sofa or chair for 20 years, and an objective, honest look at it said it had to go! The seat is sagging, the cushions are lumpy and the upholstery is shredding.

Don’t fret, with the confusion as there are no hard and fast rules. It’s all about switching things up until you find the right combination for your home decor.

Here is a range of throw pillow combinations which will make your living room lively. You can get these cushions online as well.

Types of Cushioning

All-foam

Although manufacturers use different terminology and might vary the specifics a bit, when all is said and done, there are basically three choices in cushions. The first choice is the all-foam cushion. This is usually constructed of a high-density foam core covered by a softer layer of convoluted ("egg crate") foam, and then a polyester fiber wrap. This is the cushion of choice if you like a very firm seat and you want the fewest possible wrinkles in the fabric.

Back cushions will almost always be of slightly different construction than seat cushions because they need to be a bit softer, but they still have to be matched to the seat cushion. A softer seat cushion requires a softer back cushion, or the body will jackknife – pitch forward when sitting. This cushion is relatively maintenance free. When you get up from sitting on it, you won’t need to do any fluffing, plumping or primping … it will look just like it did before you sat down.

Spring down

The second cushion choice is usually called spring down. It is the second-softest cushion and is made with a core of coiled springs, which is surrounded by a foam box and then wrapped with a thick layer of polyester fiber. This is all fitted into a down-proof cover filled with a blend of down and polyester fiber. The springs provide a resilient feel, and the little bit of down adds a touch of softness and loft that only down can give.

This gives you an idea of how spring down looks in a finished sofa. It has reasonable shape-holding properties but requires regular fluffing as well as rotation to retain its plump, softly tailored appearance. This is the cushion for you if you like some of the softness of down – a moderate amount of that down squishiness – and don’t mind a little fussing to make your home look great with these home decor elements.

Down plush, or been down

The third basic choice for a cushion is called down plush or been down. It is the softest and most luxurious of the cushions and is constructed with a thinner foam core wrapped in a thick layer of polyester fiber, and then wrapped in a much thicker layer of a down and poly-fiber blend. Because of its relatively thin foam core and a greater proportion of down, it really feels and acts like a pillow.

As you sit on it, it will flatten and change shape a bit, and it requires fluffing every time you sit on it to restore the loft and proper dimension. It’s definitely not for the person who can’t be bothered with all that maintenance. I love the way it feels, so it’s worth the trouble to me.

Here you can see me doing a bit of fluffing, just to prove that I speak from experience! And, by the way, there’s another plus: If you have had a frustrating day and need a punching bag to take out your aggression on, fluffing the sofa cushions is perfect.

Mix & Match

Pattern and Solid

This is a simple mix that can have a big impact. When using a strong pairing of opposite colors such as orange and blue, all you need for a backdrop is cream or white. The patterns are subtle, except for the strong geometric patterns with extra kilim look of tribal and hand work on the pillows. A few solid pillows pick up on the same grey tone from the diamonds to add balance. You can avail the cushions online.

Bold and Subtle

A mixing of bigger size cushion having bold patterns with smaller size cushion having subtle pattern comes out as a very trendy choice for every home. These are preferred as it is extremely easy to mix match and you don’t need a home decorator to style or sofa or bed for that case.

The base of primary colors

Keeping a simple palette allows you to have fun playing with the shape of the pillows (squares, rectangles, bolsters, etc). Primary colors plus a few punches of orange dominate this throw mix. The designer also has played with different sizes and shapes in the ottoman mix.

Go all Floral

Anyone who has visited a cottage in England knows that there are no two floral prints that clash with one another. And florals are evergreen. They don’t die and matches with every solid colored sofa with the plain walls.

Settle with Themes

By sticking to these geometric tribal patterns or be it the very own monochromatic pattern, the designer has collected an interesting and harmonious group of the pillow and mixed it with different sizes in order to complete the look keeping it in a simple theme of classy black & white.

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