#there’s something about that shade of red

[morganaawriterr]

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ New Haircut;

Synopsis; Sunghoon looks stupidly handsome after cutting his hair, and when you arrive home and see him wearing a sleeveless shirt and teasingly showing himself off, you cant control yourself no more.

Pairing; down bad fem!reader X hot boyfriend!Sunghoon (canon) Genre; i dont even know (?) suggestive; crack; fluff; Words; 0.6k Warning; very thirsty reader (she is just like me for real) sexual innuendos I guess? Author's Note: YALL I'M STILL FERAL OVER THESE SUNGHOON PHOTOS SO I DECIDED TO WRITE SOMETHING ABOUT THEM!! Dont be fooled I wrote this to satisfy MY OWN thirsty self. And yeah, I'm not okay. Just look at him, look at that smirk- I can't- As always, thank you so much for all the love. Likes, and reblogs are always appreciated! Masterlist

You’ve been dating Sunghoon for a few months, and everything has been as perfect as you imagined. He’s a caring, loving boyfriend who always looks after you. You knew how handsome he was, that’s why you had the biggest crush on him ever since he walked past you at university. But every time you think he can’t get any more attractive, he proves you wrong.

Nothing could have prepared you for what you just witnessed. You were coming back from work, feeling a little clingy and missing your boyfriend more than ever. So, to your surprise, when you arrived at your shared apartment and found Sunghoon still there, you were thrilled. It’s Saturday, and Sunghoon usually heads to the gym at 6 p.m. to avoid the crowds, so seeing him home was a delightful surprise.

But you couldn’t believe your eyes when he turned to face you, his brown eyes sparkling with excitement as he waited for your reaction.

Your gaze traveled over his tall figure. He was wearing loose gray sweatpants and a black sleeveless top that clung to his chest and showed off his muscular shoulders and arms. Then, your perplexed eyes moved upward, and you noticed his black hair was slightly shorter, perfectly framing his handsome face. Without makeup, the pretty moles scattered across his face were more visible, and his lips looked redder than usual, so plump and inviting.

“What do you think, pretty?” Sunghoon questioned with a teasing grin, his eyes fixed on your face.

Your mouth hung open, your cheeks flushed a cute shade of red, and your breathing grew uneven.

“Sunghoon…” you whispered, your eyes glued to his lean arms, unable to look away.

“Yes, pretty?” he pressed, a smirk tugging at his lips.

He loved having this effect on you. Especially because you’re usually so opinionated and talkative, but you always seem to turn shy when it comes to him.

“I just had an idea…” you said, stepping closer to Sunghoon and nudging his gym bag aside with your foot. “Maybe you can work out at home today.”

“At home? How?” Sunghoon asked, confused, his thick left eyebrow arching.

“Yeah, at home. With me. In bed,” you flirted, your voice low as you stepped fully in front of him.

“How can I work out in bed?” he smirked, pretending to be clueless about your very obvious invitation.

“Oh, I can show you some good workout positions…” You bit your bottom lip and reached for his head, wrapping your arms around his neck and playing with his freshly cut hair.

“You could’ve just said I look good,” Sunghoon teased, his seductive brown eyes locked on your parted lips.

“Oh no, no, I couldn’t—” Your gaze shifted from his eyes to his red lips. “It wouldn’t be enough to explain how insanely hot you look right now.”

Sunghoon let out a laugh, his cheeks warming at your boldness. His strong arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you forcefully against him, drawing a surprised whimper from your lips.

The two of you stayed still for a moment, eyes locked as your breathing quickened from the closeness. You were the one who made the first move, unable to hold back any longer. Slowly, your lips meet his in a unrushed peck, wanting to savour the moment. But Sunghoon’s lips move impatiently against yours, turning the kiss that was supposed to be slow and passionate to hungry. He couldn't wait. He wanted you.

“Then show me,” he whispered against your lips, his voice low and teasing. “Show me how handsome you think I am.” His words sent a shiver through you, and you hungrily chased after his addictive kiss again, ready to make him regret asking.

Taglist: @grandlightcandy @seokseokjinkim @strxwbloody @enhasunghoonishot @contyynishimura @heewanrik @ranwonbin @leanderexists @lovelyyf @youngheejay @crimson-reaper576 @rikifever @mrsjjongstby @laurradoesloveu @babyboomysweetie @mintchocos-things @nxzz-skz @saphiranishimurashan @ikeupups @yangjungwonnie @xiiaobaoo @itsuen @laylasbunbunny @mellowgalaxystrawberry @firstclassjaylee @questionsdearreader @greeyjre @en-doll @riqomi @lovingvoidgoatee @mitmit01 @miuwonis @aureliaaaa555 @han-to-my-minho @heeweenie @vixensss @ro-diares @hoonvinx @immelissaaa @jiryunn @quilevyt @vrusha01 @kkamismom12 @skzenhalove @theothernads @moonpri @nicoleparadas @fightqueen @heesunghooney @starl0ver4 @jooniesbears-blog @k1arar3 @riri-lvs-food @kolawnk @mitmit01 @dummyf @tender-is-the-moon @dksfml @tobiosbbyghorl @loveydoveyez @beomieeeeeeeeeeees @hhyvsstuff @moondooll @enchantedtomeetyou @desistay @filmofhybe

If you wanna be added or removed from the taglist just comment below!

[billiesleftboobie]

𝐁𝐮𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐩

Billie x female reader

Summary: shivering at the bus stop untill a gorgeous girl offers you a jacket

Warnings: none? Just fluff, some tension in the air

a/n: hey thereeeee! Soo this is my first ever fic or one shot or what ever this is I've written so no judging. Anyway I aplogise for any spelling or grammar mistakes as english is not my first language!! Hope you guys like this :)

⋆˚꩜｡ᯓ★

Muddy water splatters under my shoes as I make my way to the bus stop near my school. I'm shivering from the cold, wrapping my arms around myself in a weak attempt to warm up. My hoodie isn't doing much to block the icy breeze. My shoulders ache under the weight of my heavy backbag, and my eyesight is blurred with water droplets clinging to my glasses.

I let out a breath as I stand at the cold, empty bus stop—untill I feel the quiet presence of another person beside me. I'm not much of a talker so I only steal a brief glance at her.

She is the most gorgeous girl I've ever seen.

Her hair as dark as the night sky, eyes a breathtaking shade of blue, baggy clothes looking effortlessly good on her body and a pair of delicate thin glasses resting on her nose.

"It's cold out here, huh?" She says, Her voice is smooth and soft, lingering in the air like the last note of a lullaby.

"Yeah.. it is, isn't it" I let a soft chuckle, staring down at my shoes, now ruined by the muddy ground. My hands are still wrapped around myself, trying desperatly to stop my shivering.

"You cold?" She asks.

Finally, I turn to look at her and my green eyes meet her ocean—blue ones. The moment is short but it makes my heart skip a beat. It felt like something shifted inside of me.

"A little yeah" I nod my head, feeling the nervousness flutter in my chest as my words slip out softly.

"You look like you're gonna turn into an icicle. Take my jacket" Her voice is warm, but there is a teasing edge to it. She starts slipping the jacket off her shoulders.

"What? I- no you're gonna get cold" I say quickly, worried for her sake.

A smirk tugs at the corner of her lips as she holds her jacket out for me. "Come on, my bus will be here soon I think I'll survive for a little while" she says, her voice is confident and smooth.

I hesitate for a moment before taking her jacket. I drop my backbag off my shoulders to slip the jacket on. It's warm and it has a sweet scent to it, maybe vanilla?

"Thank you.." I murmur, finally feeling a bit more comfortable.

"My pleasure" she says, the smirk still lingering on her lips, as she turns to the bus that has just pulled up to the stop, which unfortunetly isn't mine.

But before she can walk in, I catch her arm gently. "Wait, how am I going to return your jacket?" I ask my eyebrows furrowed slightly in worry.

"How about your number pretty girl" she grins, the words slipping out smoothly filled with confidence.

My face turns red like a tomato at her bold words. I scramble my backbag for my phone, feeling all warm suddenly as she enters her number.

"I never got your name" I say softly, almost shy now, before the girl steps into the bus.

"It's Billie"

[jaehyvno]

˗ˏˋ what they love most about you. ´ˎ˗ stray kids

pt. 1 | pt. 2

pairing: bf!skz x fem!reader content includes: general swearing, reader is taller than minho genre: fluff! word count: 1k >

𝜗𝜚 chan .

the two of you had just exited the restaurant after a cute date night, an apology from you for not being around the past few weeks. your work had been increasing, new projects and deadlines you had to prioritize over your boyfriend.

chan, as always, was completely understanding, waving away your apology quicker than you could let it out. "nah, nah. you don't have to apologize."

you persist. the two of you hadn't seen each other in a while.

"if anything, i've ghosted you for work at worse times. it's totally okay!" he says still, but then, he's not going to say no to a chance at time alone with you. plus you'd booked in advance.

the date in itself was went well. you took a candid picture of him while he was pondering over the menu selections, murmuring to himself. he'd noticed and startled so hard that he made himself, and you giggle. ensue him trying to take pictures of you in return.

there was idle conversation over food, hand holding while waiting for dessert and arguing over who'll pay (even though you'd made it very clear that this was your treat).

the two of you walk out hand in hand, both an equal shade of red after an elderly lady commented on how she could see herself and her husband in the two of you. flattering. but then she'd asked something about a ring on the finger, and well the two of you had never rambled nervously so fast.

as you and chan walk, you snicker to yourself making him look over. "something funny?" he says with the mock sass and attitude that you found so attractive. you shake your head, a palm over your mouth to muffle your laughter. it wasn't even that funny. you were just high on the feeling of chan's hand holding yours and everything being perfect.

he scoffs, but you see the hint of an amused smile on his lips, so you squeeze his hand. he squeezes back.

the two of you walk in silence after that, when you notice two men approaching you. chan steps forward, covering you just enough and his grip on your hand tight.

"hi! are you guys a couple?" one of them asks, cheery and smiling too wide. you cringe internally, having seen a lot of these street interviewers online. chan nods, and then confirms it in a deeper than normal voice. "great!" the guy says. "would you mind answering a few questions for us?"

you tilt our head, trying to assess the interviewers. they hadn't come up you and your boyfriend with money and asking for you to pretend to be cheating on chan—as they probably did for most of those videos online—so they were probably okay people.

chan looks back at you, as if asking for permission. you shrug, and then nod. what the heck, sure.

"great, okay so. how long have the two of you been dating?"

chan looks back at you again, letting you have the space to answer first if you wanted to. you fumble, "oh uh, two—no, wait three years."

"best three years of my life." chan comments from the side, a genuine dopey smile taking his features. a surprised laugh leaves you at how in love he looks. was that how you looked at him too?

"aw guys, wait that's so cute. what plans do we have for the future with each other?"

the interviewer guy holds out his phone (acting as a mic) towards you again but chan leans towards it, "mind if i take this one? honestly, second time this night someone's brought this up," a subtle reference to the old lady at the restaurant and your cheeks fire up again.

chan continues, "marriage, obviously, if she'll have me. and kids. but that's all in the distant future, right now i think we're very happy with just us."

you blink and a flash of that future appears behind your eyes. kids. with chan.

"as you should be, as you should be." the interviewer scrolls through his questions for a second and then, "okay final one. what do you love most about your partner?"

you answer first, an obvious and slightly practiced one, "everything." it's not a lie, but a cliche answer nonetheless. "he's just perfect in every way. checks every box, you know?"

the phone slash mic goes in front of chan.

he doesn't answer for a moment, eyes on you, tongue wetting his lips. "her laugh."

"living proof that she's happy. and i love her happy." he continues, "i mean—" you chuckle, half nervously half startled. "see!? isn't that the most beautiful sound you've heard in your life?"

you squeeze his hand, tighter, nails digging into his knuckles. "stop, i love you." you frown.

he smiles bright, that dopey grin that you need to kiss off his face. "love you most."

𝜗𝜚 minho .

"are you seriously wearing that?" disgust seeps into minho's words and you barely hold back and eye roll. ignoring him, you continue trying to put in your earring.

you hear his footsteps, and then his face behind you in the mirror. his brows are drawn and he has his scrunched up weirdly. your lips quirk up. his smile copies yours.

"still talking to you, by the way." his hands grasp the earrings from you and he turns you around. he's gentle with how he puts the earring in, but you still hiss in pain. a low sorry travels in the air. "i'm no fashion expert and i mean, your clothes your choice. but, baby..."

not wanting to have the conversation, you try to grab the other piece of jewelry from him, but his hand goes up. you make a 'really?' face and grab his wrist. the height difference between you and him was in negatives, with you gaining a single centimeter over minho. he wrenches his wrist and keeps his hand behind his back.

"give it back!" you whine, but he steps back, flicking your forehead as he does. "dude, what the fuck, OW!"

he smirks. "answer me first."

you pout, moving away from him and going back to stand in front of the mirror. your code for 'no'.

"what's the point of me buying you shoes and stuff if you're not going to use them, hm?" he places the earring on the vanity, his voice considerably softer.

minho puts his hands in his pocket, weight leaning on one foot, dressed in jorts paired with a white tank and green cardigan. the outfit was a choice, certainly but he managed to pull it off cleanly. he looked delicious already, but the look he was giving you was turning you into a gooey puddle.

"i bought them with my own money," you say feebly. bad argument, another attempt at diverting the topic. he catches it.

he claps enthusiastically, "great! i love independent women. my baby destroyed the patriarchy with that!" you scoff at his sarcasm and he scoffs at you in return. "we're not going if you don't tell me what's going on. i'll tell jisung we can't make it."

"i can wear whatever i want to, oh my god, what's your problem!?"

a brow raises on his forehead, a hand gesturing at you. "this. you've been so pissy. trust me, i love attitude from you but something's wrong."

you sit down on the vanity chair, slumping. there's no hiding anything from him. "i just... i feel guilty."

minho looks confused as he kneels in front of you, taking your hands in his. his thumb brushes your knuckles softly. "guilty? about wearing atrocious sandals with the prettiest dress?"

you punch his shoulder.

"no, i—anything else i wear makes me taller than you. and..." his thumbs still, and his brows pinch together. you almost coo at how cute he looks like that.

minho presses a kiss to the back of your hand. "yn, and?"

"i heard changbin talking to you. something about how you should have been insecure since you're shorter than your—"

"and you think i listen to anything changbin talks to me about?" he interrupts. you stay silent, staring at his hands with yours.

"honey, i don't care about that. if anything, i kinda—" his ears tinge red. "i like when you wear heels. when you're tower over me. no, you know what, i love it. the height difference is hot. there i said it."

you frown, unsure. you had expected him to say that, but you'd been worrying about this for a while now. what if he's been fostering jealousy or anger about this secretly?

"yn, baby..." minho pleads. "look at me." you look up to see him pouting. your heart jumps. "i love you. you know that."

you nod.

"i fucking love your height. they should make a tall girl about us, i don't care. you're my giraffe. my godzilla. king kong. i don't know other tall animals. my little pony? no, my tall pony."

you snicker, using his hand to hit him.

"plus, changbin is literally half a second tall. all his exes have been taller than him, he's not eligible to speak." minho leaves your hand and reaches out to cup your cheek and pinches it. "my baby," he coos.

"i know you're not insecure about your height, and you don't need to worry about me being insecure about mine, okay? it's superficial. at the end of the day we're human shaped cats and i'm the ann darrow to your king kong—"

"oh my god, you're so fucking weird," a watery laugh leaves you. "can't believe i was worrying myself over you. shut up."

he laughs, standing up finally. he grabs your abandoned earring from the table and leans over you, brushing away your hair. he helps you put it on and then pecks your cheek.

"we're good?"

"better than good."

"great," he smiles sweetly. and then, "hurry your cute ass up, we're late now."

an: 😈 changbin shade for what. i was giggling writing this lamo 😭 i had something super cute planned for jisung's, hyunjin's and changbin's. i'll write them afterwards tho. hope this was fun to read :D requesrs are open and so are taglists :)! permanent taglist: @the-firstfruit

[weirdgenetic-fuckup]

I want james to be so mad at me that he fucks me as rough and deep as it gets. Oh! And throw a spit kink for good measure. (Please)

Warnings: smut, rough sex, degradation, praise kink, spit kink, implied age gap and height difference, if you think I missed anything let me know otherwise enjoy!

This picture and him talking you through touching yourself 🤤

It was a rough tour, Lars was unusually annoying, which was a hard feat for even him. James was getting finally sober and it was taking everything in him to not head to the nearest bar after the show.

They had hotels for the night, which didn’t happen often so he was excited, or he would be if he wasn’t feeling violently angry.

He just flopped over into bed, still in his clothes from the show. He knew he had to change and shower while he could but he couldn’t bring himself to. Then there was a knock at the door.

“What?!” James called, barely holding himself up from the bed. You called for him but didn’t say anything else before knocking again. You were just a crew member sent to inform him of the flight delays for the next morning. “What! What the fuck do you want?!” He yelled again.

You flinched from the other side of the door. “I-I need to come in, sir.” You stammered out, already feeling like this was a bad idea. Your suspicions were confirmed when you heard his heavy footsteps coming across the room.

The door swung open and you were met face to face with all six feet of James’s fury. He grabbed you by the collar of your shirt and pushed you across the slim hallway, pinning you to the wall. “Speak.” He ordered.

You held his wrists but it did nothing to get him off of you. “Uh, there-there’s a storm coming, all flights are grounded until, uh, until further notice… I think…” you explained, squeaking out the last part.

“You think?” He asked, lifting you off the ground. “Are you fucking kidding me? You come here with news like that and you just think?!” He stared at you a moment, seeing the panic in your eyes. He pulled away from you, letting you down again. “Spit or swallow?” He asked. Your face flushed a deep shade of red. “Forget it, doesn’t matter, c’mere.” He ordered, leading you into his room.

To say you didn’t find James attractive was just a lie, a terrible one. He was big and tall and you’d heard every story about him in bed, even finding groupies after they got out of his dressing room and asking about him. He’d caught you staring at him, which was why he figured you’d be fine with this, and you were, but you were still caught way off guard.

He was kissing your neck and saying you looked pretty like the girls all said. He pushed you on the bed and ordered you to strip, which you obviously obliged.

“Wait.” He said once you’d gotten down to your panties and bra, a matching lacy lingerie set. “What’re you wearing that for?” He asked. “Expecting someone?” He pushed you further onto the bed, making you lay down. He was only in his boxers as well, you’d been eyeing him closely, from his muscular legs, the pudge of his belly, the hair trailing out of his waistband and under his arms, his tattoos. You could feel the heat between your legs.

“Maybe…” You said, trying to play along with him, but it was hard when he was already pissed and scary, and so fucking hot.

“Fucking whore.” He bit, hovering over you, pushing your legs up. “That’s why you came up here, isn’t it? Hoping I’d finally fuck you, right?” His hand came down on your thigh, making you yelp. “Swallow, pretty girl.” He ordered. You opened your mouth, wanting to be disgusted as he spat into your mouth, but you couldn’t be, you loved it, the taste of him, of cigarettes in his saliva as it slid down your throat. “Good girl, guess you could be good for something.”

That’s all you ever wanted to be, a good girl for him. You yearned for his praise, aching for his attention and affection, you were made for him, made to be his perfect cocksleeve.

“Be quiet, the walls are thin.” He grunted, pushing his tip into your cunt. You bit your lip, muffling the moan you wanted to let out as he slammed the rest of his cock into you. He had no remorse of sympathy, not waiting for you to get used to him before pounding you.

He pushed your knees into your chest, feet over his shoulders as he folded you in half. You slapped a hand over your mouth to keep yourself quiet, he filled you up just right, cock stretching you out so good.

“Doing your best and you still can’t shut up.” He said through gritted teeth. “Pretty good sock, though, let me hear how easy you are.” You didn’t hesitate, jaw dropping as moans flooded past your lips. You gripped the sheets tightly in you fists, this was all you’d wanted since the tour started. “Fuck, what a good little slut.”

Your head fell back. “Oh fuck, James!” You moaned, back arching off the bed. He smiled widely, proud of how quickly he could ruin you, didn’t even have to find your g-spot, his cock hit every spot without even trying, each harsh snap of his hips bringing you closer to the edge.

“Gonna cum?” He asked, laughing at how close you were, how fast he brought you to orgasm. “Come on then, soak my cock like the whore you are, fucking milk it with your pretty little puss.” His words were so filthy, praise hidden in degrading words, it made the knot in your stomach tighten and snap. You were practically screaming and his thrusts were relentless, still chasing his own high. “Fuck- take it, take it like a good girl.” He said, taking your face in his hand and holding it in place, making you look up at him as you still rode out your high.

With a few more thrusts he came, filling you to the brim with his salty cocktail. His breathing was heavy as he pulled out of you, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Sit there.” He mumbled, getting up and heading to the bathroom.

He returned a moment later with a wet cloth, wiping you down. “Gonna keep you with me, alright?” He said, leaning down and kissing your temple. “You’re a good cumdump, don’t say no, getting off on being called a whore… dumb slut.” You smiled proudly up at him and he chuckled, tossing the cloth away.

He got you out of your lingerie and gave you his shirt, he fixed himself in his boxers and pulled you under the covers with him, getting you comfortable. “Gonna train you to be my bitch, understood?”

[librarygarten]

#2 Chain x Space Orc! Human! Reader - Body Swap

Part 2 includes Legend, Hyrule, and Twilight Part 1 ✿ Part 2 (you are here) ✿ Part 3

Duck. Dodge. Punch. Repeat.

The wizzrobe before you was growing incredibly frustrated. Most of its spells seemed to simply glance off of you with no effect. Others simply stung, leaving angry red marks where they touched your skin. You socking it in the face repeatedly probably just upset it further.

You were different from your traveling companions. Your ears were round. You had never wielded a sword. Magic seemed to have no effect on you. Oh, and you could bench press a Lynel without breaking a sweat.

Link swung his sword, slashing at the wizzrobe’s back. The thing cried out, flying up toward the ceiling of the room.

How had it gotten like this? The chain had entered the dungeon together, but now it was only you and Link. You hadn’t even seen them leave. You had been talking with Link, and when you turned around, the rest of the chain was simply. Gone.

The wizzrobe muttered something to itself in its strange language. It held its hands in front of itself, and you realized, perhaps too late, that it was chanting something. An orb of dark energy appeared between its palms. You didn’t even have time to think when it flung the spell at Link. You just knew whatever it was would be bad news if it hit him. You sprinted towards him, trying to get between him and the spell. Unfortunately, you were just a bit too slow. The energy hit your back, but you weren’t able to shield Link completely. You aren’t sure where it hit him, but right now it felt like your bones were on fire.

You screamed, falling to the floor. Behind you, the wizzrobe snickered, and you heard the damned thing teleport away. Great. Groaning, you got up. You muscles screamed at you in protest, demanding a break you couldn’t give them yet.

“Ugh, stupid wizzrobe,” you sigh before deciding to check in on your traveling partner. “You okay?”Your voice sounded weird. Had your ears popped? Man, that spell had hurt.

Legend

The room feels strangely quiet now. You look around, only to find a second you in the room with you, lying face-down on the floor nearby. Your heat jumps into your throat as they lift themselves up on their elbows. Before you can ask who they are (and why they have your face), an utterly filthy series of curses, insulting the wizzrobe, the dungeon’s architects, and the absent chain, falls from their lips.

You know exactly who that is.

“Legend?”

“Yeah?” He rubs his head. Well, your head, but you suppose it’s his for now. He hasn’t looked at you yet, but you can only assume that if he’s in your body, you must be… well.

“Try not to freak out.” Your request is met with a puzzled look, followed by another string of curses as he jumps to his feet. His hand moves to where his sword should be… only your outfit doesn’t have a sword (the flimsy Hylian metal bends in your hands). So much for not freaking out.

“Y/N???” He sputters your name, flabbergasted, then winces. “Ack. Why is the room so echo-y now?”

“What are you talking about?” You strain to listen to the room. It’s still almost eerily quiet. You can’t quite place it, but you feel an emptiness in the air. Like something is missing.

“That!” Legend clutches his ears, trying to block out the noises of the room. “Every time we talk it echoes in the room about a million times! And there’s a pounding noise that won’t stop! How can you not hear that?”

“Wait… what’s the pounding noise sound like?” You ask hesitantly. You have a sinking feeling that you already knew the answer.

“It’s kind of like… da dum… da dum… Like a drum or something.” He keeps his hands clasped tightly over his ears.

“Oh. Oh!” You realize what was missing. Why the room felt far too quiet. “You have my hearing now! You can hear my heartbeat!”

“You can hear people’s heartbeats!?” His cheeks turn the slightest shade of pink at the revelation. Unfortunately, his own voice echoes off the walls of the room, causing him to curl into himself, tightening his grip over his ears.

“Shoot. Sorry, this is gonna take some getting used to.” You pat his back. You remember how hard it was when you had first come to Hyrule. Everything seemed louder and sharper and smellier. Not to mention your strength.

“How on earth can you deal with hearing everything all the time?” Legend groans, his voice quiet in an attempt to spare his poor ears.

“Here,” you pull the bag on his back open just enough to fish around inside and grab what you need. You slip the headphones over his head, and almost immediately he relaxes. “I use these to sleep sometimes. They block out some noise, but not all of it.”

“I am never yelling at you again,” he adjusts the headphones on his head, ensuring they properly cover his ears. “This is pure torture.”

“Oh! That reminds me!” You reach into your new bag. The magical trinkets Legend carries around glitter inside. You pull out the first thing that catches your eye: a red stick with a ball on the end. You have no idea what it does. “Now that I’m not human I can use these things!”

“Hey! Those are mine!”

“You took my body, I take your junk, you hoarder!”

“Y/N!”

“>:]”

Hyrule

Your entire body is buzzing, as if you had rubbed your socks on the carpet and then touched a piece of metal. That wasn’t good. The spell had hit Hyrule, too, and he hadn’t responded to your question yet. You turn to look for him, only to come face to face with a terrified-looking copy of yourself.

“Ack!” You jump backwards, fists ready for a fight. As if responding to your panic, the static feeling intensifies. The other you scrambles to their feet and tries to grab something off their back. When their hand finds nothing but air, they pause, shooting a quizzical look over their shoulder. Then they look down at their clothes and squawk in surprise.

“Y/N?” The other you asks. Against your better judgement, you nod. “Umm… look down?”

You do as the other you asks, only to discover something horribly wrong: you’re wearing Hyrule’s clothes.

And skin.

You are Hyrule now.

“What!?” You look at the other you. “Hyrule?”

He waves sheepishly. “The spell must have swapped our bodies. Don’t worry, this kind of magic usually wears off on its own.”

“Darn it,” you slump your shoulders forward. You liked your body. Hyrule’s was pretty good, but you’d much rather look at his than be in it.

“Sorry,” he gives you an apologetic smile.

“It’s not your fault,” you drag a hand down your face. The buzzing in your veins continues. “Your body just feels weird. It’s all tingle-ly and stuff.”

“Tingle-ly?” Hyrule repeats, puzzled. Unfortunately, you don’t have time to explain further as the wizzrobe makes it’s presence known again, laughing with glee as it teleports beside you.

Without wasting a moment, you punch it, just as you had been doing before. You hand connects with its face, but this time, pain explodes out from your knuckles.

“Owwww,” you wince, holding your injured hand close to your chest. That’s right. Fragile Hylian bones.

“Hyah!” Hyrule holds his hands out towards the wizzrobe.

Nothing happens. 

Suddenly, his eyes widen and he looks at his new hands with a growing sense of dread. “I can’t feel my magic at all.”

That was to be expected. Most magic didn’t seem to affect you, which also meant you couldn’t use it. Still, for Hyrule, being separated from it, even for a short period of time, must have been strange.

Wait… if he had your lack of magic… did that mean?

You snap your fingers experimentally, sticking your tongue out in concentration as you try to mimic what you’d seen Hyrule do dozens of times. A small spark of electricity dances between your fingers.

“Sick,” the smile that makes its way on your face can only be described as deranged. You turn to look at the wizzrobe, who appears to be slowly backing away from you in fear.

“Y/N?” Hyrule asks. The magic thrums in your veins, the static feeling intensifying in your hands as you call forth more electricity.

“I’ve always wanted to try this,” you giggle. Then, you chuck the ball of lighting from your hand directly at the wizzrobe. It falls to the floor in a pile.

“Woah! Careful, don’t use up all my magic!” Hyrule warns.

“Aww, but it’s so cool,” you pout. “I’m never going to be able to do this again! Can’t I have just a little fun with it?”

“...”

“Please~?”

“...Fine.”

Twilight

“I’m alright,” Twilight mumbles. His voice sounds… different. You turn your head, trying to look at him, only to get a face-full of something hairy. Your heart skips a beat as you try to attack whatever animal suddenly attached itself to your face. Your arms feel heavy and sluggish as you throw the creature to the floor. When you finally get a good look at it, you realize it’s not an animal at all. It’s a pelt. Specifically the one that Twilight is supposed to be wearing right now. 

“Dang. I didn’t think my fashion choices offended you that much,” he laughs. His voice still sounds weird. You spin on your heel to face him and find, not Twilight, but yourself looking back. They smirk and wave.

“...Twilight?” You ask. You’re afraid to know the answer. When he nods, you’re only left with more questions. You decide to start with just one: “How?”

“I’m guessing the wizzrobe swapped our minds,” he shrugs, as if this were only the fifth weirdest thing he had seen that day. “Weird. I thought magic didn’t affect you.”

“Swap?” You look down. Sure enough, you’re Twilight now, complete with green tunic and weird pinecone-looking necklace full of dark magic. You reach down to pick up the cloak that you had so violently discarded a few moments ago, wrinkling your nose at the wet dog smell that greets your nose. It takes more effort than you expect to lift it. Strange. Twilight looked muscular enough. Were Hylians really that much weaker than humans? Still, it was strange that the spell had affected you at all. You try to respond to Twilight’s statement, but the smell wafting from the cloak distracts you. “Must have been a pretty powerful spell– I’m sorry, but when was the last time you washed this?”

“I washed it… recently,” he refuses to meet your gaze, and you can practically hear the sweat drip down the back of his neck. You raise an eyebrow at him.

“I’m using this as an opportunity to do your laundry. Smelling you from across camp was bad enough, but how can you live like this, man?” You pick at his tunic (well, your tunic, for now). Somehow it also smells like a wet dog. Actually, now that you think about it, maybe Twilight’s body is the thing that smells like a dog, because the scent seems to cling to you in an almost unnatural way.

“You cannot smell me from across camp,” he blushes, offended.

“Yes, I can,” you grimace, still examining your new clothing. Did he roll through a mud puddle? No, it hadn’t rained in a while. Where did all this dirt come from? “One of the perks of being a human. Sensitive nose. And ears. And eyes.”

“Huh. Now that you mention it, it does feel like when I’m in wolf form,” he sounds surprised. Oh yeah, his wolf form. Is that why his body smelled like a dog? Surely, he bathed since last transforming, right?

“Glad it’s you and not one of the others, then. Can you imagine the cow Legend would have if he could suddenly smell Wild,” you snicker. Twilight looks shocked for a moment before breaking out in laughter.

“Oh man, he’d never shut up,” he chuckles, but the expression looks alien on your face. You already miss the way his nose would scrunch up when he laughs. Hopefully this swap would be a short one.

“Maybe it’d finally make Wild bathe,” you muse.

“Unlikely.”

[xuchiya]

teasing is the new delulu || song mingi || one-shot

| genre: fluff. slice of life. enemies-to-lovers- kind of trope. office kind of trope. | mentions: literally teasing each other. you teasing him. mingi teasing you.

You had just returned from the meeting, the weight of the day pressing down on your shoulders as you glanced at the clock—5:00 PM. Just thirty more minutes and you could finally crash onto your bed, the thought of sleeping a siren’s call after the endless back-to-back discussions. With a sigh, you placed your laptop onto the table and sank into your chair, scribbling down the tasks you had been assigned.

The office was alive as always, filled with the familiar sounds of rapid keyboard clicks, quiet chatter, and the occasional teasing among soft-developers. From across the room, a burst of laughter echoed as someone cracked a joke, while outside the glass walls, people were already packing up, ready to return home.

Just as you were about to start your task—at least for a few minutes—your product manager called your name. You looked up to see her sliding her laptop aside, motioning for you to pull up a chair.

“I have a few things to show you,” she said, her expression a mix of amusement and expectation.

Here’s the thing—your office wasn’t like the usual corporate setting with cubicles and private desks. Instead, it had the feel of a studio apartment, open and collaborative, with long wooden tables where everyone worked side by side. It was the kind of environment that thrived on creativity rather than competition, where ideas were shared freely, and camaraderie flourished.

You grabbed a chair and settled in between her and your fellow intern. But the moment you took your seat, you realized something.

Of course, your product manager preferred you nearby whenever you worked on layout designs, which meant sharing a workspace with none other than Song Mingi.

And that meant war.

“You’re seriously using that color palette?” Mingi’s voice cut through the air, his tone a perfect mix of judgment and disbelief as he side-eyed your screen like it personally offended him. You didn’t even look up. Smirking, you clicked on another shade—just to be extra. “You’re seriously still breathing near my workspace?”

His jaw dropped in exaggerated betrayal. “Unbelievable.”

Your bickering had long since become a staple of the office. So much so that even your supervisors had started teasing you both, throwing around comments like, “Married couple energy,” and “Just confess already,” every time you two went at it. It was routine. Comfortable.

And most importantly, it was fun.

But today, you decided to flip the script.

As you placed the final layer on your tab, you leaned in slightly, resting your elbow on his desk and tilting your head just enough to breach his personal space. “Why so grumpy today, Mingi? You’re usually better at keeping up.”

You saw it instantly—the way his fingers twitched against the keyboard, the slight stiffening of his shoulders. “I’m not grumpy,” he mumbled, eyes locked on his screen like it held the secrets of the universe.

You didn’t need to look hard to see the telltale flush creeping up his neck. From this angle, he was absolutely flustered. Grinning, you seized the opportunity. With a swift flick, you tapped his ear.

“Really? ’Cause your ears are turning red.”

Mingi choked. “W-What? No, they’re not!”

Laughter bubbled up in your chest as you tapped his shoulder lightly, reveling in the way he tensed under your touch. “Aw, did I make Mingi shy? That’s cute.”

His eyes darted around the room as if searching for backup, but it was useless—everyone else was very pointedly pretending not to be invested in your little exchange.

“I’m not shy,” he muttered, voice barely above a whisper. “You’re just—you’re being weird.”

Feigning offense, you pressed a hand to your chest. “Me? Weird? I’m just having a conversation with my favorite co-intern.”

His head snapped toward you so fast you were sure he nearly gave himself whiplash. “F-Favorite?”

You winked, returning your attention back to your work. “Don’t let it get to your head.”

Mingi let out a strangled noise before dramatically spinning his chair away, his entire body radiating flustered energy. “I’m done with this conversation.” Chuckling, you leaned back in your chair, watching as his shoulders remained stiff, his ears still noticeably red.

This was new. And honestly? You were going to milk this moment for all it was worth.

The teasing didn’t stop there.

Later that evening, the entire office spilled onto the lively streets, stepping out for a well-earned dinner after surviving endless nights of debugging and stress-fueled coffee runs. The nearby food park was alive with movement—bright lights strung between stalls cast a golden glow over sizzling grills, the air thick with the mouthwatering scent of smoky meats and fried street food. Laughter rippled through the crowd as vendors called out orders, the hum of conversation blending with the occasional clatter of utensils.

Your stomach growled as your eyes locked onto your favorite stall—the one selling those golden, crispy, cheese-filled corndogs you had been craving for weeks. Your steps quickened in anticipation, but just as you reached for your wallet, a sudden tug at your ID lace yanked you back.

You stumbled slightly, whipping around with a glare. “Are you serious?”

Before you could react, a group of kids darted past you, barely missing your legs. Mingi let out a quiet sigh of relief, though he quickly masked it with a smirk. “What?” he shrugged nonchalantly. “Just making sure you don’t run off. like those kids”

You rolled your eyes. “Very funny.” Reaching for your ID, you tried to snatch it back, but he was faster, holding it just beyond your reach with a smug grin.

“Mingi,” you warned, stepping closer. His smirk faltered ever so slightly. “W-Wait—”

You surged forward, stretching up to grab your ID. Your fingers brushed against his, the warmth of his skin sending a small shiver down your spine. It wasn’t until you finally reclaimed your ID that you realized just how close you were. Your faces were barely a breath apart, the faint scent of his cologne mingling with the air around you.

His eyes widened, his usual confidence slipping for just a second. And there it was—that telltale shade of red creeping up his ears.

“Oh?” A teasing lilt curled into your voice as you tilted your head, your hand still resting lightly against his chest. Your fingers curled slightly against the fabric of his shirt, feeling the rapid thump of his heartbeat beneath your palm. “Why do you look so nervous?”

“I-I’m not,” he stammered, stepping back so abruptly that he nearly tripped over his own feet.

You chuckled, the sound light and teasing. “Aw, is Mingi getting flustered again?”

“N-No!” he protested, clearing his throat as he turned toward the menu like it was the most fascinating thing in the world. “What do you want to eat? My treat.”

You arched a brow, crossing your arms. “Trying to change the topic, are we?”

“I just don’t want you saying I don’t treat my ‘favorite co-intern’ well,” he muttered, still steadfastly avoiding your gaze.

This was too fun.

You leaned in ever so slightly, watching with amusement as he stiffened. “Careful, Mingi,” you murmured, your voice dropping just enough to make his ears turn impossibly redder. “I might start thinking you actually like me.”

He nearly choked on air. And with that, you walked ahead, leaving him standing there—red-faced, heart racing, and utterly, helplessly flustered. As you reached your table with your food, you couldn’t help but notice Mingi stealing glances your way, his flustered expression lingering even as he tried to act normal. 

His fingers drummed idly against the side of his drink, but his eyes kept flicking back to you, betraying him. You smirked, reveling in the fact that, for once, you were the one throwing him off balance.

“You’ve been staring for a while, Mingi.” You popped a fry into your mouth, tilting your head with feigned innocence. “Something on my face?”

For a moment his body twitch in a way of responding a snarky remark yet he straightened immediately, his entire demeanor shifting. Gone was the nervous boy from earlier—now, he leaned back in his chair, drumming his fingers lazily against the table as he met your gaze with a newfound confidence.

“No,” he said casually, then let his lips curl into a slow smirk. “Just wondering how someone so annoying can still be kinda cute.”

You froze mid-chew.

Wait.

Hold on.

Did he just—?

Your brain stalled. Mingi’s smirk widened at your silence, his eyes twinkling with amusement. He leaned forward, resting his chin on his palm, the teasing lilt in his voice unmistakable.

“What? Cat got your tongue?”

For the first time since this game started, you were the one caught off guard. A traitorous heat crept up your neck, and your heart did an embarrassing flip before you could shut it down. You scrambled for a comeback, but all that came out was a choked, “Hah?”

Mingi chuckled, his voice rich with amusement as he studied your expression. Slowly, he took a sip of his drink, dragging out the moment, savoring his small victory. Then, with a smirk sharper than ever, he murmured, “Flustered?” He tilted his head slightly, watching you with an intensity that sent another unwelcome flutter through your chest. “That’s cute.”

Your eyes widened. He did not just—

“You—you stole my line!” you accused, jabbing a finger at him as if that would somehow erase the smug look on his face.

Mingi only chuckled, completely unfazed. “Gotta keep up, favorite co-intern.”

And just like that, the tables had turned.

[stellocchia]

The best thing about my three all-time faves is that they absolutely could be friends.

I talked in the past about Killer and Lust having plenty of similarities (they both come from situations where violence was normalized to them, their souls and emotions were messed with against their will, and they both tend to be objectified a lot, with Killer being seen as a weapon and Lust as a sexual object). But also, they have plenty to give to each other. Killer can teach Lust how to defend himself better and Lust has a lot to teach him about self expression, individuality and so on.

They're a great duo already, but I can make the dynamic better by throwing Red into the mix.

My guy comes from a world that doesn't fit among the darker AUs like HorrorTale, DustTale, or Something New, but it doesn't fit among the lighter ones either. Violence was very much normalized there and he's used to being a weakling compared to those around him. Nothing but easy EXP (I don't doubt that he and his brother had come to rely on one another a ton during their time in UnderFell. Those two are codependent af and nobody will ever convince me otherwise).

He can empathize with Lust's and Killer's feelings of being something other because he was. However, he cam also teach them a lot. He can teach them how to stand up for themselves (because, while Killer knows how to fight, that guy is the worst advocate of his own boundaries), and how to truly trust. He'd be out there helping to reconnect with their bros (and maybe helping Color too since we're at it, because if Killer's there Color is never too far behind) and that's a hill I'm willing to die on.

Also, my brain gave me the name "shades of love trio" for them and it fucking slaps, so one more reason to make them buddies

[ivy-rose-walker]

She skips over the part where he talks about being dead or something because she just doesn't understand it. She's barely working on understanding this magic thing and the fact that there seem to be literal demons in this club.

Hmm... You look alive enough now! The only kinds of spells I do right now are, I guess you'd call them summoning, or protection.

With summoning, it can look something like this.

She holds up her wrist and the ivy vine crawls off of it, glowing with green light and encircling in the air. She taps it with a finger, demonstrating that it has form.

It doesn't last very long, but I can use it for simple things, like around the house. And then there's Shade.

She smiles and holds out her own sleeve, prominently featuring a wolf in red and black geometric patterns that shimmer and glow.

I don't want to let him out now, he might make a scene. But he's come in handy in a dark alley or two. I also have an evil eye on the back of my calf that looks out for danger behind me.

She doesn't mention the snakes on her thigh.

It depends on what the bearded dragon means to you. It's gotta be something that has meaning to you, I think. That's the only way I've only done it, anyway.

Start It Up Again

"Veronica, you look like right shite," Constantine pointed out, blowing a puff of cigarette smoke out the cracked window of their dressing room. "Shut the fuck up, Con," came the haggard reply. Veronica was sprawled on their couch, arm across her eyes, a heeled boot denting the cushion. He cocked his head towards her. "I'm speaking out of concern, not just to be an arse. If you can't play, maybe you shouldn't." "What, and leave you and Gaz out to hang? I don't think so," she scoffed, sitting up with a soft groan. "I'll be fine. You can give me a puff of your ciggie, and Gaz can give me a puff of his joint, and I'll be right as rain." "Who said I'm sharing?!" called Gaz from where he stood by the door into the alley. "C'mon, don't be a cunt," Veronica complained, striding over and grappling with him for his spliff. Constantine watched them squabble for a moment before letting out a laugh. "Right, kids, I'll be heading up to the main, got a few invitees to find," he announced. "Just take a whole cig, Ronnie, it'll steady you." They paused to wave him off before Veronica snatched the joint from Gaz's hand and took a large puff, blowing smoke in his face after. Con grinned as he left their familiarity for the club filling up, taking a seat at the edge of the stage and looking out over the crowd. A few fans came up him, and he obligingly signed the scraps of paper pushed his way with a purple pen and flashed a sign of the horns for a few selfies with them, a charming smile on his lips.

ooc- gonna tag blogs at the end here, but there's going to be like 11 blogs in total participating, so I don't think round robin reblogs will work here. My idea was that in the replies, you can figure out who all you want to write with, and I'll have Con talking in pretty much any/all of the splinters. Occasionally to move the gig along I'll do a longer reblog post like this and tag everyone at the end again, and people can then continue their RPs off of that, or something ^^" any ideas to help this be smoother is also fine with me, if we do want round robin that's fine too, it just might take a hot minute with so many people involved /lh

@morningstarscratch @le4ves-1n-the-w1nd @d3vils-in-th3-d3tails @gl-kyle @annemarie-stark

@redhoodedalleydog @demonprince-luka @john-brendan-knowles @arsonistic-tendencies @ivy-rose-walker

[ssa-writerminds]

Hi I'm a new follower and I was wondering if you can possibly do a Hotch x plus size reader and could u add like hotch defending plus size reader thank you

Aaron Hotchner || Beautiful

-x- -x- -x- -x- -x- -x- -x- -x- -x-

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x reader

Warnings: plussize!reader, fem!reader, reader blushes, Jack mentioned, reader is cat called (?), men being gross and making rude comments about reader's body, a bit of British slang popped out in some parts. Nicknames used: Honey, my love. Possibly a suggestive mention at the end, but it's open to interpretation.

Contents: You're used to taking people's comments about your body and brushing them off like they're nothing, but when Hotch is around, you no longer have to do that.

A/N: Of course I can! ^^ I've never written for plussize!reader before so I apologize if this is worded incorrectly or isn't accurate to what you had in mind, but I did try and take from my own experiences as a "curvier" person, so i hope it's okay and that you enjoy! :)

Comments about your body weren't something you took to heart, or at least, you tried not to take them to heart. Your body shape isn't something that you should be ashamed of, and you would remind yourself of this daily.

But it's hard to ignore them sometimes. The dirty looks, the passing comments about your figure, the way women shamed you and men looked at you differently. It definitely has a way of getting under your skin.

That was no different when you were out and about with Aaron. He had taken some time off recently to spend some time with you and his son, Jack. You had decided to use one of those days to spend some time alone together, leaving Jack with his Aunt whilst the two of you ventured around the city, doing whatever came to mind in the moment.

You and Aaron had just finished eating at a fancy restaurant he had recommended, and were walking through the city, window shopping, and talking about anything that came to mind.

"I think that was the best meal I've had in a long time." You sighed, your arm hooked around Aaron's as he held you close, he smiled down at you and the content expression on your face.

"Told you it was good." He placed a kiss on the hair at your temple, letting you guide him to a nearby store front, you looked at the small porcelain pieces behind the glass.

Just as you pointed to a piece that you liked, you were both interrupted by a whistle behind you. "Look at the arse on that one..." The voice of the boy, who couldn't have been older than a teenager, murmured to his friend behind you.

Your face quickly turned a deep shade of red, embarrassment and shame from being cat called in front of your boyfriend filled your mind.

Aaron stiffened next to you. The city was busy, but there weren't that many women around you, and he was sure the voice had been directed in your direction. He could still hear the boys laughing as he turned to look at you. His free hand rubbed your elbow gently, as you continued looking at the small porcelain pieces in the window.

"Nah man, she's too chunky. Couldn't afford to keep that fed." The boys cackled behind you again. You couldn't stop the surprised sigh that left your lips, the tears that filled your eyes.

Before you could process what had happened, Aaron had turned his head to the boys. "Excuse me?" He said sternly. The laughter quickly stopped as the boys stared back at Aaron with wide eyes.

"Nothing. Just admiring the pottery." They snickered, elbowing each other. Aaron didn't budge, the wrinkle in his eyebrow deeply set as he stared down the boys. You could feel his arm move to his coat, where he kept his badge. He didn't often use it to scare away immature teenagers, but something inside of him boiled at the way they ridiculed you.

"I'm sure the comments you made weren't ones that could be said about pottery." His voice was low and serious. He radiated an aura of authority, which made the boys shrink slightly.

"W-Well, we were... just..." The boy's voices grew quieter as Aaron scolded them.

"You know, it's a crime to catcall women, especially in the tone that you were." Aaron pulled out his badge, clearly showing off the big 'FBI' printed at the top. You both knew that he was lying, despite how disgusting it was, it wasn't a crime, but the boys didn't know that.

You turned to face Aaron in shock. He never used his badge for reasons like this, never to get people to leave him alone, or for something he didn't like.

The boy's faces dropped, you could hear them hitting each other's arms, blaming the other for possibly getting them in legal trouble l. "S-sir, I'm sorry! We were only joking!" They both fought to defend themselves.

Although Aaron held up his stoic look, you could see the small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "Do not do this again." He told them sternly. The boys quickly nodded, practically dragging each other away from the "scene of the crime" so to say.

Aaron turned back to you, placing his hands on your shoulders. "You okay, Honey? I'm so sorry that happened, don't listen to them. Immature pricks..." He murmured the last part, more saying it to himself than to you.

You placed a hand on his cheek, kissing his lips softly. "Thank you, Aaron." You smiled. And the two of you continued on with your date, trying to not let that small event ruin your day.

---

But now, you were back at home. You stood in front of the mirror, in the same outfit you had been wearing, looking over each and every curve and ridge in your body. Your hands ran over every roll and fold. Your thoughts came back to what the boys had said earlier. It was so embarrassing... And in front of Aaron too? What if he believed those things... What if he remembered them too and was thinking about them, about how disgusting you were, about how unattractive you were?

You were broken out of your thoughts by Aaron clearing his throat by the doorway to your bedroom. You quickly turned away from the mirror and faced him, your arms instinctively wrapping around your torso, trying to make yourself look smaller, to hide the way your body filled your clothes.

"Everything okay in here, my love?" He asked gently, pushing off of the door frame and taking small steps towards you. He could see right through you, but it didn't take a profiler to do so.

The tears instantly filled your eyes again, the overwhelming feeling of embarrassment, shame, hatred towards your own body filled you. Your hands quickly covered your face as Aaron's steps sped up. You tensed as his arms wrapped around you.

He could feel your shoulders stiffen under his touch, how you sucked in a breath as he pulled you into him. He knew you struggled with body image. He always had. And so these small actions to you, were mountains of worry to him. "Baby, what's wrong?" His voice was full of surprise and concern. He couldn't understand how you could look at yourself in the mirror and see anything but beauty.

"It hurts, Aaron... What they said..." You sobbed quietly between breaths. He just nodded his head, kissing the top of your own, hugging you even tighter.

"It's okay, Honey. It's okay." He reassured you. His hand ran over your back comfortingly. You let out the breath you had been holding in to make yourself look thinner. He cradled your face to his chest as he held you. "Don't believe them. They're stuck up and immature. Eventually they'll learn in life that not everyone looks like the supermodels they drool over, and that's okay. Youre infinitely more attractive to me than any of them."

His voice was equally as gentle as the way his hands ran over your body soothingly, appreciating every curve. Your sobs turned into hiccups as he spoke endless words of praise and affirmation into your hair, placing kisses to punctuate each one.

"You really think so?" You asked quietly. You didn't have to clarify that you wanted a straight answer, he would never give you anything but. Not that he would ever think anything but.

"I know so. I'm addicted to you. I'm so in love with you that sometimes I think my heart is going to explode. You're so much more than what you see in the mirror, and what you do see isn't even a bad thing. I think you're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen, and that I ever will see." He speaks gently.

No matter how much the thoughts in your head ate away at your confidence, how much they told you he was lying, you knew he wasn't. Aaron would never lie to you. Not even about something like this. He held you close as your breathing calmed, and that night, he showed you just how much he appreciated every curve of your body.

[starhvney]

hello!

can i have garroth as a coffee with cream and a bagel? lovveee your work! drink water!!

𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟓: 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐮𝐩 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐜𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐫!!

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: established relationship, fluff, cozy at home

𝐚/𝐧: of course, thank you so much!! also, thanks for the reminder, i was wondering why my head was hurting!! also, since the universe wasn’t specified, i decided to show some mcd garroth some love! hope you don’t mind :)

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ☆ 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

“Good morning,” you yawn, footsteps quiet against the freezing cold floor as you shuffle towards the window.

There Garroth sits in a chair, gazing outside as the sun rises to greet the cold, early morning. It chases away the dark night sky, turning its color into what was currently a beautiful shade of pink and purple that reflected softly against the planes of his face and the curls that rested on his forehead, still messy from sleep.

Despite how quietly you had walked over, your greeting didn't startle him. Your lover, after all, was an experienced and powerful guard, and he could easily pick up footsteps behind him (especially yours that he knows so very well).

Instead, when you make it to his side and he turns his head to greet you, the furrow between his brows was already softening and eyes were practically melting as they met your figure. Strong hands clasp onto the edges of your peignoir, wrapping it tighter around you before pulling you snug into his lap.

“Hello, my darling,” he murmurs, lips curling up into a pleasant smile. “Aren’t you cold? Why aren’t you still in bed?”

“My heater left me,” you muse in a teasing tone, earning an apologetic and guilty smile in return.

“I apologize, waking up early is just something I’m still so used to,” he sighs, burying his face into your neck and wrapping his arms tightly around you, attempting to warm up the cold that had seeped into your bones.

You sit there for a moment, enjoying the peaceful moment before deciding to speak up again. “What were you thinking about?”

He sucks in a breath, seeming to think hard about an answer before giving you one in earnest. “Mostly you. Otherwise it was just less interesting things like village affairs.”

“Oh?” you smile, tilting your head back to get a good look at his face, admiring the red that now dusted his ears. “Mostly me?”

“You act surprised, as if everything I do isn’t for you,” he huffs in amusement, turning his head to nuzzle his nose into your shoulder. “You're on my mind every waking hour.”

You cup his cheek, the warmth of his words defrosting your cold fingers and radiating into your heart. Another moment passes, a comfortable silence settling over the two of you as you relax into the embrace. His warmth could honestly soothe you back to sleep, but the steady rise of the sun chasing the pinks and purples away for orange and blue reminds you that the day has only just begun.

“Do you have a lot to do today?” you whisper.

He kisses your palm. “…Nothing urgent.”

“How would you like to stay inside with me then?” you murmur. “It’s been so cold lately, anyways. And you need to rest…”

He smiles at your obvious attempt at temptation, though the two of you knew it wasn’t necessary. You tempted him just by breathing in his direction.

“I’d do anything you asked me to, darling.”

You smile, victorious in the fact that you were one of the few who could “win” against the strong and mighty Garroth Ro’meave. He gladly lets you puff your chest in pride, his eyes twinkling in admiration as he stands with you still in his hold, carrying you off to the kitchen to prepare a warm breakfast to start off your lazy day together.

©starhvney 2024. do not plagiarize, feed to any AI, or repost my works to any sites.

taglist: @wasting-away-on-the-internet @angelhyperfixates @valentique @arienic @dazedbydeath @theaquaticplant @starsbrightly @kalegrinch @izzybella1807 @marst4rz @vyladsgirl @allieyaaa @luvsymai @yoom-ss

[walkingnearfoxes]

The Space Between the Lines (Homelander x Reader) - Chapter 8

2.4k words. NSFW. Warnings for the smut finally smutting. She/Her Teacher Reader.

There are a dozen teachers who would kill for this job. You’re just not sure that you’re one of them.

The lesson you gave Ryan that day would not have won you any awards.

Homelander flaunted his acting abilities by being perfectly normal. He listened intently to the lesson, answered Ryan's controversial questions, and chuckled at the parts of American history he found comical. The Battle of Paoli tickled him. Compared to how he usually engaged with your lessons, he was more relaxed than usual. He leaned back in his chair with his hands folded on his lap; the nods he occasionally gave, as if watching his evil plans come to fruition, made your chest clench.

You were a mess. Any other day, you can answer Ryan's factual questions without blinking an eye. You had his textbook memorized to a near clinical degree. Now, you hesitated after his ponderings and didn't land much banter. Your face flushed five shades of red when you called Benjamin Franklin a president. Ryan was polite enough not to comment, but Homelander could fit a whole family of canaries in his shit-eating grin.

Mercifully, the lesson ended earlier than usual so Ryan could work on an essay. You expected to sit and wait for him to finish - but as always, Homelander had other plans.

"Alright, Ryan. You've got 30 minutes to finish that paper. No cheating." He says, pointing at him with a wink. The supe stands up and stretches his arms to his sides before settling them on his hips. He still has his gloves off. "Teach and I have a meeting downstairs."

You look over at him suspiciously. "We do?"

He looks at you from the corner of his gleaming blue eyes. "We do. I would've mentioned it earlier, but we got a bit sidetracked. Remember?"

Damn him.

Ryan looks up from his paper, concern on his creased forehead. "Is something wrong?"

"No, no! Not at all," Homelander assures him with an easy laugh. He steps between you and Ryan’s seats to give his son a reassuring shoulder pat. "Just some things to discuss with your next unit coming up. Don't worry. She's not going anywhere."

Ryan smiles in relief while you swear you hear a cell door slamming shut.

Homelander turns and holds out a hand to you. When you automatically take it, his fingers quickly enclosing yours, his grin widens. "Leave your stuff here," His voice is gentle enough to disguise the command as a gentle offering. "It shouldn't take too long."

He lifts you like you're made of parchment, using just enough strength so you nearly stumble into him. He keeps up an innocent smile. You adjust yourself and look up at him for a long moment before turning to Ryan. Your expression instinctively softens. "You're only using Chapter 7, remember? I'll know if you try using others."

He nods confidently and returns his pencil to a scurrying scratch across the paper. "Yep. Got it."

If Homelander is concerned about your academic threat to his son, he doesn't show it. He ruffles Ryan's hair and guides you out of the penthouse with his hand still holding yours. As the door to the penthouse closes, his hold tightens. You wonder if he is about to pounce on you. Instead, he walks you to the elevator - and you loathe yourself for feeling disappointed.

You kissed him to get him to shut the hell up, you remind yourself. That fucked up little brain of his wants - needs - affection, and the only way to pivot him away from his rage was to give it to him. That was why you kissed him. That was why your body was so tightly wound as you waited beside him for the elevator - your hand, somehow, still in his grasp.

"So..." Homelander breaks the silence as the elevator numbers crawl up to find you both. "President Franklin, huh?"

You instinctively growl in annoyance. "Shut up."

He wheezes, and the sound gives you enough time to remember he can split you like soaked paper. You choke on an apology. "Shit. I mean-"

“I’ve killed people for less than that, you know.”

Jesus. “I didn’t-”

"Relax." He snickers and squeezes your hand. "Common mistake, right? Now he won't fuck that up himself in the future."

The elevator door opens, and he pulls you inside. You two are the only inhabitants for this ride. Homelander takes his merry time pressing the button to the floor for this apparent meeting. When the elevator starts to move, he finally lets go of your hand. You instinctively fold your arms across your chest. "So...what is this meeting about?"

He looks at you, but you are staring at the elevator buttons. He scoffs. "Take a guess. What could Vought possibly be worried about with you and me?"

You pretend to take a moment to think about it. "This weekend?"

"Yahtzee.” He pauses. The only sound is the painfully slow ding of passing levels. “Now, this meeting is with Ashley. You’ve met the basketcase. She’ll want to spin it one of two ways. The two of us never interact in public again, let this slide away, or we use it to our advantage."

That gets you to look at him. "Our advantage?"

He smirks like the two of you are in on a scheme. "I gain points for dating a little normie, and you get all the benefits of dating me."

Dating. The word sounds so absurd that you bite your lip to stifle a bewildered laugh. You have no words to describe the increasingly concerning dynamic between you and the most powerful man on the planet, but dating is certainly not one of them. You turn your body to face him fully, though it does little to fend off the feeling of being attacked from all fronts. "What benefits?"

You’re aware he may have been infuriated by your snark on another day. Today, he just tilts his head impishly. "Oh, the fame, the power, the money…but that's not where your brain is, right? Your little noggin is still thinking about that kiss."

You scoff and unconsciously take a step back. "Please."

Homelander follows you with a tut of disapproval. "Don’t lie. I hate liars.” He stops just an inch from you, and your back presses to the elevator wall. “You’re lying to the both of us, pumpkin. We're the same, you and me. We want more. We deserve more."

You tilt your chin up to keep your eyes locked on his. "We are nothing alike, and I only kissed you to shut you up.”

Without breaking eye contact with you, he reaches for the elevator buttons. He presses the emergency button, and the room stumps to a halt. You stumble, and he takes the opportunity to rest a hand on your hip to stabilize you. His free hand reaches up to gently pry your arms apart and to your sides. You don’t have time to speak before his chest pushes lightly against yours. "Your body tells me a different story…” He leans over to growl directly into your ear. “Your pulse was elevated that whole lesson. Your eyes were dilated any time you looked at me. And right now?” His voice lowers to a dangerous growl. “You are soaking wet."

Your heart is pounding in your ears as you push at his chest. Nothing. You snarl. "Get off of me."

He shakes his head as he pulls back to look at you. He pouts in annoyance. "Why do you torture yourself? Enjoy this. You have no idea how good I can make you feel."

The frustrating heat clogs your thoughts, and the words come out of you before you can think them over. "Please. I don't think an asshole like you even knows where the clit is."

You swear his entire face flutters. His silence drags, and you can’t decide if fear or excitement makes your body pound. Finally, he replies. "You know, Maeve said something awfully similar to me back in the day. And boy oh boy did I prove her wrong. Over and over again."

This time, when he kisses you, there’s no slowness. His mouth molds against yours with a possessiveness that makes your legs quiver. Your back hits the wall firmly, and the wanton moan out of your mouth shocks you in its primality. He keeps one hand in your hair, angling your head to kiss you how he wants, while the other keeps its grip on your waist. He holds you tight, squeezes you, and you whimper against his mouth. His responding smirk against your mouth is devious.

“Real sensitive for someone who talks such a big game,” He breathes against your lips. He gives you another peck before his lips move to brush along your jaw. It barely feels like kisses; it’s almost like he’s tasting you, relishing your soft skin against his mouth.

You squirm, but it’s you pushing against a brick wall. He chuckles against your skin at the attempt, and you huff. “You’re cheating.”

“Cheating?” He repeats, his grin wide as it finds the top of your neck. “These are my God-given talents.”

“God had nothing to do with you,” You murmur. In reply, his sharp incisors bite hard at your neck. It’s an absolute shock to your system, a thrum pounding from your heart and settling between your legs. You whine loudly, your hands suddenly finding purchase in his hair as he sucks over the bite. He purrs at the contact and sucks slowly, fondly, at his created spot. You manage to find your voice. “Are you…are you leaving a fucking hickey?”

“Like you didn’t almost come just now,” He murmurs without leaving your skin. He gives another harsh bite and soothing suck directly beneath his first attack, his hands easily keeping you still as you squirm like a fish on a line. It won’t be a subtle mark you’ll have to carry around Vought Tower, and it’s a thought that makes your body clench helplessly.

Somewhere during his assault on your neck, he’s undone the button to your jeans. He moves his hand so slowly from your hip that you don’t notice its descent into your pants until he moans. It’s the first time he’s felt the soft skin of your stomach under his palm. He sounds just as - if not more - excited than you. He slowly presses his hands down until he’s pressing against your underwear, and your breath leaves you in a sharp gasp. “Fuck.”

“Should cover your mouth,” He mutters as his long fingers sneak shamelessly beneath your underwear. “But these sounds are so cute.”

You want so badly to give him a clever comeback, but any witty retort disappears as the pads of his fingers press your clit. He moves them in an agonizingly slow circle. Your mouth opens in a soundless cry just in time for him to pull away from your neck and admire your face.

“Oh, would you look at that?” He chuckles as his fingers continue swirling in that torturous circle. “Found the clit.”

It’s unfair. You’re trapped against him, and he can toy with your clit at his own pace. Even worse, he knows how to play with you. He knows when to speed up when your body craves it, but never too hard or fast. He builds you up slowly to something that leaves your hips spasming fruitlessly against his hold. Not once does he look away from your face. He doesn’t even blink as he slides a single finger inside of you, his lips gently parted in awe. It takes him all of five strokes to find the spot inside you that has your eyes falling shut and rolling back. His free hand immediately cups your jaw.

“No, no…” He growls. “Open those pretty eyes. You’re gonna be looking at me when you come.”

He emphasizes his point by adding a second finger, and the stretch makes you obey. You blink your eyes open as he curls those damned fingers over and over again, his thumb working at your clit. Your body is on fire as you wrap one hand around his wrist at your jaw. Your nails digging into his skin would hurt anyone else, but not him. Not Homelander. You don’t even realize you’re speaking until the word comes out. “Please…”

Homelander’s eyes widen in delight. “Please? Oh, so sweet…” His fingers crook deeper, leaving no escape from the pounding inside you. “Go ahead and come.”

A few more of those perfect strokes, and you release. You swear it’s as if thunder booms from your core, and your cunt clenches tightly around his fingers. He groans your name like a prayer but doesn’t slow down; he keeps going. You’re reawakened by a raw oversensitivity you’ve never known before. You whimper as you squeeze his wrist. “T-too…too much…”

He smirks and gives a rough thrust of his fingers. He relishes in your cry. “You better get used to that,” He taunts but finally relents. He slowly pulls his fingers away, letting out another debauched moan. “So fucking tight…”

You watch in a daze as he puts his fingers in his mouth. He closes his eyes, and the moan he lets out makes your pussy pound for something more. He relishes in your taste for as long as he can and then finally looks down at you. Now, he looks just about as dazed as you feel. His voice is a rumbling sin. “And that’s nothing, teach. I can give so much more.”

You have no words. Homelander doesn’t seem to mind. He takes his time rebuttoning your pants, adjusting your shirt, and brushing a hand through your hair. He tilts his head as he looks you over for a moment, and with a quiet hum of approval, he turns and presses the emergency button again. With a jolt, the elevator returns to its slow descent. He steps away from you with a disappointed sigh. You realize that this hasn’t satisfied either one of you. It was a silent craving for more. 

The thought and the jolt of the elevator wake you up, and you finally speak. “We…” You cringe at how broken your voice sounds; how loud have you been screaming? Did anyone hear you? “...We shouldn’t be doing this.”

Homelander is back to holding his hands behind him, perfectly poised as he watches the numbers drop. “Why not?”

You shake your head as you desperately search for some sort of logic over the persistent throb between your legs. “It…it’s wrong.”

He chuckles darkly. “Oh, sweetheart…you should know by now the laws of right and wrong don’t apply to me.”

[twobluejeans]

Vogue Engagement Interview

charles leclerc x fiancé!reader

summary: In which y/n and charles invite vogue into their monaco home

ally’s radio 📻: hello my lovelies, its been a while… this is eventually gonna be apart a series I’m working on but for now its a standalone. if you guys enjoy it, send in request for other blurbs🤍

EXCLUSIVE: Y/n L/n & Charles Leclerc’s Love Story—A Home, A Forever, A Dream. 

A Drive into Luxury

Monaco’s streets glisten in the early afternoon light, the air thick with the scent of sea salt and citrus. The road leading up to Y/N L/N and Charles Leclerc’s home is lined with palm trees, their shadows swaying gently over the sleek pavement. As I pull into their driveway, I take a moment to absorb the scene before me—an array of luxury cars neatly parked in front of the house, each a testament to Charles’ love for speed and precision. A cherry-red Ferrari, unmistakably his, sits beside a blacked-out Mercedes G-Wagon, which I suspect belongs to Y/N. Beside them, a vintage Porsche—cream-colored, classic, and timeless, much like the couple themselves.  

The house before me is nothing short of breathtaking. White stone, modern yet inviting, with floor-to-ceiling windows that reflect the sapphire hues of the Mediterranean behind it. It’s grand, certainly, but not in a way that feels cold or impersonal. Even from the outside, the home exudes warmth—just like the woman who greets me at the door.  

A Warm Welcome

Y/N L/N stands in the doorway, barefoot, wearing a soft cashmere sweater in the perfect shade of off-white and a pair of delicate gold hoop earrings that catch the sunlight. Her hair is pulled back into a loose ponytail, a few strands framing her face. She’s effortlessly beautiful, yet it’s not just her appearance that captivates—it’s the way she carries herself, the way her smile reaches her eyes, the way she radiates an easy, natural warmth.  

"Hi! You must be Ally, it’s so nice to meet you," she says, her voice smooth and welcoming. She extends her hand, and as we shake, I can’t help but notice the sparkling engagement ring on her finger—the ring that has sent the world into a frenzy.  

She gestures for me to step inside, the scent of fresh peonies and something warm—vanilla, perhaps—filling the air. The entryway is spacious but cozy, with soft lighting, neutral tones, and delicate personal touches. A candle flickers on a marble side table, and a framed photo of her and Charles, mid-laughter, sits beside it.  

"Can I get you anything? Coffee, tea, wine—it's never too early for wine in Monaco," she jokes, leading me further inside.  

I opt for a coffee, and she nods, already making her way toward the open kitchen, which is a stunning combination of modern design and lived-in comfort. Copper pans hang above the marble island, and a basket of freshly baked croissants sits on the counter. She moves effortlessly, making me feel less like an interviewer and more like an old friend.  

A Glimpse Into Their Home 

Before we settle in, Y/N insists on giving me a small tour. We move through the house at a leisurely pace, and she speaks about their home with genuine affection.  

"Charles and I wanted something that felt like us—elegant but not over-the-top. A place where we could truly unwind. Where we could have friends over, but also where we could just… be."

The living room is a perfect reflection of that sentiment. A grand yet inviting space, with a massive cream-colored sectional adorned with soft blankets and an array of books scattered across the coffee table. The glass doors open onto a terrace overlooking the sea, the gentle sound of waves lapping in the distance.  

The warmth of their home isn’t just in the décor—it’s in the small, intimate details. A racing helmet casually placed on a shelf, a half-finished painting leaning against the wall, a dog bed tucked in the corner.  

And speaking of their dog—Leo, a mini golden dachshund, comes trotting into the room, tail wagging furiously. He greets me as if we’ve known each other forever, before curling up at Y/N’s feet.  

"He’s a menace,"she laughs, scratching behind his ears. "But we adore him."

She leads me back to the living room, where we settle onto the plush sofa. There’s still no sign of Charles, but Y/N doesn’t seem concerned. Instead, she leans back, taking a slow sip of her coffee, and I take the opportunity to shift the conversation toward her latest project.  

Heartache & Healing: The Story Behind the Album

"Your new album has been described as a journey through heartbreak and finding love again," I begin. "Can you tell us what inspired it?"  

Y/N exhales softly, her fingers tracing the rim of her coffee cup.  

"It was… personal," she admits. "My last relationship was—well, it wasn’t healthy. It was a cycle of highs and lows, of leaving and coming back when I knew I shouldn’t. I think a lot of people have been in relationships like that, where you convince yourself things will change. But eventually, I realized I had to leave, and that’s when everything started to shift for me." 

"There’s a track on the album—number 16—simply titled ‘Charles Leclerc.’

She smiles, a different kind of light in her eyes now. "It wasn’t planned," she says. "We were finishing up the album, and I was in the studio one night, just reflecting. I started humming this melody, and the words just… came out. It was a love note, really. Just a simple way of capturing what he means to me."

Before I can ask more, the front door swings open, and in walks Charles Leclerc, his presence filling the space effortlessly. Dressed in a fitted navy sweater and tailored trousers, he carries two grocery bags in one hand and, in the other, a bouquet so large it nearly obscures his face.  

"Mon amour, I got your favorite pastries," he announces, setting the bags down before walking over to Y/N and pressing a lingering kiss to her temple.  

She takes the flowers with a soft laugh. "You didn’t have to do that."

"I always have to do that," he counters, before turning to me with an easy grin. "Welcome to our home. I hope Y/N hasn’t told you too many embarrassing stories about me yet."

The Proposal: A Moment Meant to Last Forever

As Charles settles in beside Y/N, I ask him about the proposal—one of the most talked-about moments of the year.  

"You chose Monaco, a rooftop, and—surprise—Lando Norris as the secret photographer?" I tease.  

Charles chuckles, shaking his head. "I needed someone to capture the moment, and Lando has a good eye for that kind of thing. But really, I wanted it to be perfect. Y/N deserves nothing less."

"What made you choose that moment to propose?"

His gaze softens as he turns toward Y/N.

"A few months ago, we did a perfume campaign together. The concept was this idealized life—a home, a family, this perfect love story. And I remember looking at her during the shoot, holding this little boy’s hand, and I thought… I don’t want this to be pretend. I want it to be real. I want to come home to her, to have Sunday mornings and family dinners and late-night talks about absolutely nothing. I wanted it all—with her. And once I knew that, there was no reason to wait."

Y/N squeezes his hand, her eyes glistening.  

"And now you have it," I say, smiling.  

Charles nods. "Now I have everything."

An Outpouring of Love—And Flowers

As soon as the engagement was announced, Y/N and Charles were flooded with well-wishes, not just from fans, but from some of the most iconic names in Hollywood, music, and sports. Their Monaco home was quickly transformed into something of a botanical wonderland.

Beyoncé sent an extravagant arrangement of white orchids and gardenias, with a handwritten note that read, "Wishing you both a love as timeless as your artistry. Love always, B."

Pedro Pascal had red and yellow tulips delivered with a note that simply said, "Love wins. Cheers to you both."

Chris Evans sent a classic bouquet of red roses, playfully signing off, "Now, don’t let him drive too fast, okay?"

Theo James and Aubrey Plaza, her White Lotus co-stars, gifted wildflowers and eucalyptus, with a note from Aubrey that read, "If he ever pisses you off, just remember… we know where to find him."

Jacob Elordi, her Priscilla co-star, sent Australian natives—banksias and proteas, writing, "A queen deserves flowers fit for a queen."

Zendaya and Tom Holland surprised her with an entire indoor citrus tree, symbolizing growth and prosperity.

Harry Styles had peonies and hydrangeas delivered, with a simple yet heartfelt, "Love to you both."

And, of course, Max Verstappen, Charles’ friend and fellow F1 driver, sent sunflowers with a note that read, "Because Charles is going to need something bright to look at when he gets overtaken."

Fast Laps & Slow Mornings

"Charles, how do you balance racing at such an intense level while also making time for your personal life?"

"It’s not easy," he admits. "F1 is demanding, and there are weeks where I barely see home. But Y/N understands that. She’s been there for me through it all—whether it’s waking up at 4 AM to watch a race or flying across the world just to spend a day together. And when I do get time off, I make sure it’s meaningful. Like today—I picked up her favorite pastries, and we’re going to spend the rest of the afternoon doing absolutely nothing together. Watching Abbot Elementary, her favorite show."

Y/N smiles. "The perfect day."

An Unexpected Delivery

As the conversation flows effortlessly between Y/N and Charles, our interview is briefly interrupted by the sound of the doorbell echoing through their Monaco home. 

Y/N furrows her brows, exchanging a glance with Charles before getting up.

"I wasn’t expecting anything today," she murmurs, padding barefoot toward the door.

A few moments later, she returns, holding an unmistakably elegant black velvet box with gold detailing—and a letter.

She places it on the coffee table, her fingers hovering over the envelope before she lets out a small laugh. "This is… unexpected."

Charles, sipping his espresso, raises an eyebrow. "Who’s it from?"

Y/N flips the envelope over, and for the first time during our interview, she looks genuinely stunned.

"It’s from Zayn."

There’s a pause. A noticeable one. Zayn Malik—her first public boyfriend, her first real love. Not the other relationship she references in her album, but the one that introduced her to the world of high-profile romance. They had dated years ago, young and in love, their breakup amicable, though heavily scrutinized by the media.

"Open it," Charles encourages, a small, knowing smile playing on his lips. There’s no jealousy, only curiosity.

She carefully unfolds the letter, her eyes scanning the words before she reads them aloud.

“Y/N,

Love changes, but real love never fades. It evolves, it grows, it finds its way into different forms. You taught me that.

I’m so damn happy for you. Seeing you glow the way you do now—it’s exactly what you deserve. You’ve always deserved a love like this.

No matter where life takes us, I’ll always be rooting for you.

Wishing you and Charles a lifetime of happiness.

-Z”

Silence lingers for a moment before Y/N exhales softly, a small, touched smile on her lips.

"That was really sweet," she says, setting the letter down carefully.

Charles reaches for her hand, pressing a kiss to the inside of her wrist. "You really do have the whole world rooting for you, don’t you?"

Y/N chuckles, shaking her head. "I guess so."

She finally lifts the lid of the black velvet box, revealing a delicate gold charm bracelet—elegant, understated, and timeless. Each charm tells a story: a music note for her career, a tiny Monaco Grand Prix trophy for Charles, a small vintage microphone, and a crescent moon, a nod to the nickname Zayn used to call her in their younger years.

"Wow," she murmurs, gently running her fingers over the charms.

"You going to keep it?" I ask.

Y/N glances at Charles, who simply shrugs. "It’s a memory," he says easily. "And memories deserve their place."

She smiles at him, then fastens the bracelet around her wrist.

"Yeah," she says, her voice soft but certain. "I think I will."

Looking Ahead

As the sun dips lower in the sky, casting golden light through their home, I ask them both the final question.

"What’s next?"

Y/N glances at Charles. "Marriage. Love. Life."

Charles nods. "And maybe a few more interludes."

Y/N laughs, squeezing his hand. "Maybe."

And with that, it’s clear—their love story is only just beginning.

[nagiwrites]

Chapter One: The Reaping

Characters: Caleb, y/n

☆ Content:

sci-fi dystopian world with advanced technology and strict government control, Caleb being Caleb, The hunger games AU, survival, violence, and gore. a slow-burn with a power imbalance, military and rebellion themes. Psychological mind games, emotional manipulation, and moral dilemmas. Eventual smut (I have yet to write an actual smut scene in any fic hahaha)

📌 Synopsis:

Watching from the sidelines, Colonel Caleb should remain detached. He barely knows her, has only glimpsed her in passing. But something about her defiance—her willingness to throw herself into the arena for a stranger—unsettles him. And for the first time in his career, he makes a reckless move of his own.

He’s going in with her.

Whether she realizes it or not, she just became his to protect.

[→ next]

A/n: well I had a Caleb fic cooking too (look I am unemployed right now so don’t come for me at least I am writing) I just be watching old movies and think what if this specific chara was in this and yeah, this kind of stuff happens. Also y’all I made a love and deep playlist like some while ago if u wanna listen it’s not cliche probably idk but (shameless plug) listen here

In District IV, silence was a kind of ritual. It fell like static from the tall speakers lining the square—clean and clinical, just like the Capitol liked it. Drones hovered above the crowd, scanning faces, cataloging expressions. One tear too many and your name might be filed under “potential rebel.” One frown too deep and your family might disappear.

Caleb stood near the perimeter, arms behind his back, silver insignia of a colonel gleaming on his jacket. His military stance was rigid, but his gaze wandered. Not to the stage. Not to the trembling officials preparing for the draw.

To her.

She stood near the back, half-shadowed beneath one of the solar shade panels. Civilian clothes, dirt on her boots. He’d seen her before—once, maybe twice, during the Capitol’s monthly parade. She’d been in the crowd, eyes sharper than most, like she could see through the polished lies. He hadn’t forgotten that look.

He didn’t even know her name.

A drone zoomed in near the front of the crowd, its lens blinking red as the Capitol escort reached into the bowl. It made a soft clicking noise, and the screen behind her lit up with the chosen name. The escort barely had time to read it before a small cry broke out.

It was a child. Couldn’t have been more than ten.

The girl stepped forward, legs shaking, as the crowd fell into a stunned silence. Her name had been pulled. Random. Meaningless. Efficient.

Caleb’s jaw tightened.

The Capitol always said it was fair. That their system left no room for bias. But how was this anything close to fair?

Before anyone could react, another figure shoved past the front line—her. The girl from the crowd. The one with the eyes.

“I’ll go,” she said, her voice steady, even as her body trembled. “She’s just a kid.”

The escort blinked. “You’re not related to her.”

“I don’t have to be.”

The system hesitated. A holographic interface blinked to life, projecting her citizen file in the air. Minimal infractions. District worker. No known affiliations. No family ties. “Eligible,” the AI confirmed with a sterile tone.

Caleb’s pulse spiked. Something inside him twisted. He didn’t know this girl—didn’t owe her anything—but watching her step into the center of the square, unflinching, made the cold inside him crack.

This wasn’t bravery. It was sacrifice.

And it was stupid.

So damn stupid.

He turned sharply toward the Peacekeeper beside him. “Access the draft system.”

“Sir?” the Peacekeeper blinked, confused. “You’re not—”

“I don’t care. I’m going in.”

“Colonel, you’re needed at command. You’re military, not tribute material.”

Caleb stepped closer, lowering his voice to a growl. “Then file me as a mentor. Handler. Strategic escort. I don’t care how you do it—get me in that arena. With her.”

A pause. A beat. Then the Peacekeeper nodded, slowly.

Caleb turned back to the stage, his gaze locking on the girl now being led toward the hovercraft. She didn’t look back.

But he did.

Something about her felt like unfinished business. Like a thread the Capitol had pulled too hard.

And Caleb had never been one to leave threads dangling…..

The moment her name was confirmed, the silence in the square shifted. It wasn’t relief. It wasn’t gratitude. It was something else—something heavier.

The girl she’d saved was crying, held back by trembling hands that didn’t belong to her parents. Maybe she didn’t have any. Maybe she was just another orphan, another casualty of the Capitol’s system.

The crowd wasn’t celebrating her sacrifice.

But they weren’t stopping it either.

Some looked away, unwilling to watch. Others clenched their fists, their rage swallowed whole, too afraid to let it show. A few—mostly the older ones, the ones who had lived through too many reaping days—stared at her with something almost like mourning.

No one stopped the Peacekeepers when they grabbed her arms.

She didn’t fight them.

Didn’t flinch when cold metal cuffs snapped around her wrists, when the escort gestured toward the awaiting hover transport.

She only allowed herself one last glance at the crowd—at the people who would keep living their quiet, regulated lives, while she was sent to die.

And that was when she saw him.

Not on the stage. Not in the front.

But at the edge of the square.

The colonel.

Unlike the others, he didn’t avert his gaze. He watched her, sharp and unwavering, his expression unreadable. A soldier’s face.

And yet, something was wrong.

It was the way his jaw tensed, the way his hands curled just slightly at his sides, like he was restraining himself.

She didn’t know him—not really. But she knew when someone was about to make a choice they couldn’t take back.

The Peacekeepers shoved her forward before she could look any longer.

The doors of the hover transport slid shut behind her.

And just before the engines roared to life, drowning out the world outside—

A single, sharp command cut through the static.

“Access the draft system.”

Her blood turned to ice.

Because she knew that voice.

She just didn’t know why he was with her in here right now.

The moment she stepped onto the hovercraft, the silence of the square was replaced with the low hum of advanced engines and the cold sterility of polished metal. The door sealed behind her with an airtight hiss, locking her inside.

Her pulse was steady—too steady for someone who had just thrown their life away. But she wouldn’t regret it. Couldn’t. If she hadn’t volunteered, that little girl would be sitting in this seat instead, too small to even reach the straps across her chest.

Her hands curled into fists against her lap.

She was alone now. At least, she thought she was.

Until a heavy bootstep sounded across the floor.

Her head snapped up, eyes locking onto the last person she expected. The man standing near the entrance was tall, built like a soldier—because he was one. The colonel.

The same one she’d seen in the Capitol parades, the one who never smiled, whose presence made the officials stand straighter and the civilians look away.

What the hell was he doing here?

She stared at him, wary. He wasn’t in tribute clothing. His uniform was crisp, dark, and lined with the silver trim of his rank. Definitely not a tribute. Not an escort either.

Which meant this was wrong.

“You—” Her voice came out harsher than she intended, but she didn’t correct it. “You’re not supposed to be here.”

Caleb didn’t flinch. He simply sat across from her, exuding an unsettling kind of control, like none of this was strange to him. Like he hadn’t just forced himself into the Hunter Games.

“That makes two of us,” he said, voice smooth, unreadable.

Her fingers dug into the armrest. “No. I had a reason to be here.”

He tilted his head slightly, observing her. “And you think I don’t?”

A slow chill crept down her spine.

She didn’t know him, but she knew men like him. Men who followed orders without question. Men who enforced the Capitol’s will. Men who let the system grind down people like her without a second thought.

But then why was he here?

The hovercraft shifted into autopilot, and a soft robotic voice crackled over the speakers, confirming their course. The Capitol skyline blurred through the tinted windows, its neon glow sharp against the evening sky.

“Let me guess,” she said, eyes narrowing. “You’re a new type of handler. A Capitol experiment. They’re sending soldiers into the Games now?”

Caleb leaned back in his seat, fingers clasped loosely in his lap. “Think whatever you want.”

That wasn’t a denial.

Her jaw tightened, but she forced herself to focus. It didn’t matter who he was. Didn’t matter why he was here. She had bigger things to worry about.

Like surviving.

Still, she couldn’t shake the feeling that his presence meant something.

And when he finally spoke again, voice quiet but firm, it only made the unease worse.

“You shouldn’t have volunteered,” Caleb said.

Her breath caught. Not at the words themselves, but at the way he said them—like they weren’t an insult or a judgment.

Like they were a warning.

She turned away, staring out the window, but she could still feel his purple eyes on her. Calculating. Measuring.

And she had the sinking feeling that whatever thread had been pulled between them at the reaping—

It wasn’t going to snap.

It was going to tighten.

A/n: if u wanna be tagged then comment, thanks for reading!!! I’m not sure if this is too little or long for a first chap or idk but here it is.

[cowprintcowboy]

thinking about watching Sylus get ready in the morning. the way he looks fresh out of the shower, droplets of water dripping down from his silver locks and down his toned back. the way he pulls his slacks up his muscular legs, holding you captive in his crimson gaze as he loops and secures his belt. you didn’t know when this fascination had started, but now, just simply watching his long, nimble fingers tug at the belt the way he’d tugged your hair the night before sent a wave of heat between your legs.

“Need something, Kitten?” The cocky smile on his face only continues to grow as he watches you struggle to find a clever rebuttal. “I’ll give you anything you want, all you have to do is ask.”

His long legs carry him to where you are at the end of the bed in a few short strides. He can’t help but tease you, loving the shade of red you turn just for him when you’re flustered.

It’s safe to say he cancels any and all other plans for the day, even without you asking. Besides, how could he deny the desires of the woman he loves most in this world?

[nexahexagon]

Truly doing God's work with these LoSA requests I've never been fed more. Your art is so lovely <3

Perhaps a post-Null LoSA cuddle pile or reunion? I feel like Ros would need assurance she wasn't back there. Maybe sleeping with the lights on (I mean Sneeg's little mountain house has glowberries inside), between Sneeg and Clown who can easily remind her she's with them and not in the Null.

Ros brought them blankets. Sneeg gave her a squinted-eye look, as though he was trying to figure something out. Clown made a joke about preferring a darker red, and that this orange shade made him seem softer.

[invinciblevariant]

in your hour of need , i'll be there . . . [ mark / rex ] .

a lovely anon known as "glass" requested a fic of markrex hurt/comfort , and i'm here to deliver ! i really hope you (and those others reading this) enjoy !

synopsis ; a particularly nasty battle with yet another monster attacking earth leaves rex bloodied and bruised . there is nothing new about this , except the person who comes to see him afterwards , which may or may not spark some ... feelings . pairing ; mark x rex . timeline / changes to series ; set toward the beginning of s3 . mark confessed his love for eve , but she rejected him ( and she and amber began dating bC IM THE AUTHOR OF THIS STORY DAMMIT ) . trigger / content warning(s) ; blood , gore mention .

this is such bullshit .

rex knew he was signing up to get his ass kicked when cecil reported of unusually hostile activity in the southern region of chicago . he also suspected that it would be an alien creature , but what he didn't suspect was that this alien would be damn near impossible to take down , even with the rest of the guardians' help .

this is certainly nothing like taking on the flaxans , but fortunately , not like fighting viltrumites , but still , this monster-looking fuck is stronger than it seems .

" can't we call someone else to come help ?! " monster girl yells as she attempts to put the alien in a headlock , getting easily tossed into robot . rex throws explosive after explosive to try and distract it , but it doesn't even react .

then , he realizes something ... not only is this creature strong as all hell , it's also blind .

" hey , guys , i have a - ! "

before rex is able to finish , the creature grabs him and slams him into the wall of a building , almost sending the whole thing down on top of him . as rex is getting back up , it pounces on him and digs its claws into his sides .

the scream he lets out can most likely be heard around the entire world .

after the creature is kicked off him by bulletproof , rex surveys his injuries . fuck , he's not supposed to be able to see his innards ...

after staring for what feels like hours in horror and shock , the world goes black and he collapses against the debris .

rex awakens in a hospital room in the gda's medical facility , his sides bandaged up and an iv drip in his arm . nothing he's not used to at this point .

" man , " he yelps slightly as he hears the voice beside him chuckle , " you look like shit . "

... mark ?? huh ... this is new . he thought for sure that it would be rae sitting beside him , waiting for him to wake up .

oh , god , rex hopes mark can't see the way his face flushes red ... or the raging boner he's starting to get .

" yeah , well , you would know about looking like shit after a fight , wouldn't you ? " he bites back , though there's absolutely no hostility in his tone .

mark laughs at that - dammit , why are there butterflies in his stomach ? - and gets up from the chair , strolling across the small space to stand beside the bed .

" well , " he says , " eve texted to come check up on you since she and amber are looking at apartments across from the college . "

" oh , so you're not here out of concern for your best friend ? you're doing so because my ex-girlfriend and your former unrequited lover told you to ? "

now it's mark's turn for his face to flush red , and he rubs the back of his neck . " n-no , i came because , when i saw the text ... i ... " he looks rex in the eyes . " i was concerned for you ... you'd never been that badly hurt before , and ... i was ... "

rex gets a knowing look on his face before smirking teasingly . " you were that worried about me that you stuck by me the minute you saw the text , weren't you ? "

he swears that he's never seen the shade of red that mark's face turns shortly after that , and he sputters . " sh-shut the hell up , man !! "

" awwwww , " rex continues to tease , reaching over to poke at the viltrumite teen's side , loving the way mark squirms and hides his face in his hands afterward , " you were as concerned as eve would've been . y'know , she would've shut me up by now by kissing m = "

mark's lips pressing deeply against his shut him up , and rex absolutely melts into the gesture . he feels a hand cup his cheek , very much like eve would've done , and mark climbs onto the bed to straddle the injured superhero .

thank fuck for the morphine the gda gives ...

minutes feel like hours before the door swishes open and mark scrambles off of rex's bed , almost tripping over the iv stand . cecil enters the room , seeming oblivious to the position the two men were just in mere moments before , and informs rex that he can leave the hospital in a few days before heading out just as quickly as he came in , talking through his earpiece to some agent .

" don't mention this to anyone , " mark states when he sees the smirk on rex's face , though his tone indicates no seriousness whatsoever .

rex only chuckles and grabs his arm , pulling mark back onto the bed so he can lay beside him .

he's totally telling the rest of the team about this later ...