#this is a bit of an exaggeration of course

[gloomwitchwrites]

Good evening to you. I thought about writing you many times but never had the courage to do so 😅 I saw a TikTok Trend some time ago and thought about the Reaction from our beloved task Force 141. How would they react when you "accidentally" sent them the message "He just left our house, you can come now. He'll be gone for some time". Basically pranking them by implying something shady. You can ignore this if it's weird of course. Thank you for your time and amazing writing 🙏😊

I'm so glad you finally got the courage to send in a request because I had so much fun with this one! Many many thanks because I pretty much cackled and giggled the whole time I wrote this. I'm not exaggerating. I adored this prompt. It not only gave me room for a little humor, but it also gave me the opportunity to be a little naughty!

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Female Reader

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): established relationship, pranks & shenanigans, suggestive themes, mild sexual content, dirty talk, dirty thoughts, swearing, possessive behavior

Word Count: 1.5k

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if series

John Price

Five minutes.

Five. Minutes.

Five minutes and you're already causing problems.

John isn't surprised. Not in the least. Sometimes, you enjoy being on your worst behavior just because it stirs him into a frenzy.

John is sitting at a stoplight, staring down at his phone screen. A car honks but he ignores it.

He's gone. Come over.

There isn't anyone else. John knows this explicitly. Not because he completely trusts you—which he does—but because he knows your exact location at all times. He knows what you search on your phone and what things you look at on the internet. And because he knows that, he knows you're just trying to take the piss.

Locking his phone screen, John turns on his blinker. A few turns later and he's back home, marching through the door. He's not mad. Far from it. You just need a good lesson—a good spanking. Over his knee with a bare ass. That way he can watch it bounce, watch as you wiggle and squirm, hear you whimper, and watch as your arousal grows with each strike.

Then, and only then, will he keep you under him. Which is what you want anyway.

John walks silently and with purpose, approaching you as you casually lounge on the couch.

"You're home early."

John ignores the jab. "You're on one today, cabbage."

"Whatever do you mean?"

John holds up his phone. "Think I'm going to believe this?"

Your eyes widen but John can see the bluff. "I meant to send that to—"

"To me," interrupts John. “You meant to send it to me.”

"To a friend,” you correct, but John notices the smile you attempt to hide. “I meant to send it to a friend.”

No. You wanted John to come home—to be a bit neurotic, even a little possessive.

"Fine," growls John. "I'll bite."

He places one hand on the top of the back cushion while the other rests above your head. He leans in, lowering his voice.

"Who do you belong to?"

"You."

"Show me you mean it."

You tuck your knees in, drawing back your top and removing your lounge pants. When they're gone, you spread wide, revealing your glistening pussy. Your arousal is clear, and John cannot wait to sink inside.

"That's my good girl."

John "Soap" MacTavish

You sent the texts not long after Johnny left for work.

He’s gone. Won’t be home for hours. Come over.

At first, you believed that Johnny would get those texts and immediately turn around, to head home and bust down the door. He did no such thing. He didn’t even respond. Not a peep from him. You spent the rest of the day in limbo, unsure if Johnny received the texts at all.

So, when he does come home, you expect him to say something.

“Hey you,” he murmurs, going in for a kiss.

“How was work?” you ask.

“Good,” he replies, heading down the hall to the bedroom. “Had a briefing. We’ll be heading out for a mission next week.”

“Do you know when exactly?” you ask.

“Tuesday!” he calls back.

Nothing. This man is completely glossing over the fact that you sent those texts to him. When he reappears in nothing but a pair of sweatpants, you nearly swoon at his bare chest and stomach.

“What did you get up to today?” he asks, sauntering over to grasp your hips and pull you close.

“Nothing much,” you reply, and Johnny hums in reply, placing a kiss on your forehead.

“You know,” he says after a beat, fishing out his phone from his pocket. “You did send me a few odd texts earlier.” He taps away at the screen at turns it around to show you.

The texts you sent are right there, glowing brightly.

“Oh, those—”

“I checked the cameras.”

“Cameras?” you choke. “What cameras?”

Johnny grins and then he’s tapping away at his phone again. When he shifts the screen around, you see yourself and him in real time. You turn to the corner of the room from where the feed is coming from.

“I never saw anyone come over. But I did see this.”

Tapping again, he changes to an earlier time during the day. It’s a feed of the bedroom, and you’re masturbating. Johnny ups the volume and you hear yourself moan.

“There’s this, too,” he says, switching to the night before when he had you on all fours, ass in the air.

“Johnny!”

He tightens his hand on your hip, keeping you close. Lowering his voice, Johnny grins. “Try again, love.”

Simon "Ghost" Riley

You watch from the window as Simon’s car pulls out of the drive. You wait until he turns the corner before unlocking your phone and selecting his name.

He’s just left. Come over.

With a wicked grin, you hit send, knowing that the texts will reach Simon any second. Leaning against the window, you wait, and then smile wider as Simon’s car sharply turns the corner and speeds down the street back to the house.

He’s hardly parked the car before he’s exiting the vehicle, storming toward the house, malicious intent clear with every step. With a triumphant giggle, you rush to the bedroom and flop onto the bed, pretending that you’re up to nothing at all.

You hear the front door slam, then Simon’s thunderous footsteps followed by doors opening and closing. Sprawling out across the bed, you tap away at your phone, acting like you're not bothered at all.

When he appears in the doorway, you deliberately ignore him for five long seconds before you casually turn your head and smile.

"You're home early," you observe.

Simon looms in the doorway. "What the bloody hell was that text about?"

"What text?" you shrug, all innocence.

Simon, deadpan, replies "He's just left. Come over."

"Oh. That was for a friend."

"Which friend?"

"A friend."

Simon slowly walks up to the side of the bed. "You're fucking with me."

"Don't know what you're on about, Simon."

The murderous demeanor you saw earlier melts away, leaving behind a mischievous glint that you know all too well. With a viper-like quickness, Simon grasps your ankle and yanks you to the end of the bed.

"Simon!" you shriek, but he's already flipping you over onto your stomach.

He plants both knees on either side of you, keeping you trapped beneath him, his large hands coming down on your wrists to pin them above your head.

"Was last night not enough?" he asks, voice a gruff whisper. "Or do you need another lesson?"

You lift your head as Simon transfers both wrists beneath one hand. He has his phone, tapping away at the screen.

'What are you doing?"

"Telling Price I'm not coming in."

"But you're scheduled."

Simon locks the phone and then tosses it to the side. "He'll understand." Pressing his lips to the shell of your ear, his voice drops to a breathy whisper. "I have a woman to breed."

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

It's cruel, perhaps. Even mean. But getting Kyle worked up is so goddamn sweet.

He’s protective, sometimes even a bit possessive, and nothing is hotter to you than watching him stake his claim.

Which is why you sent those texts in the first place—a way to make his heartrate spike.

He just left. He'll be gone for hours.

Kyle bursts through the bedroom door, his chest heaving as if he just ran several miles.

“Where are they?” he asks, voice a growl.

Kyle heads for the bathroom. Throwing open the door, he storms inside, but finding nothing, retreats back into the bedroom.

"Where's who?" you ask in mock innocence as Kyle opens the closet, pushing aside clothes as if he’ll find someone hiding there.

Kyle exits the closet, hands on his hips. “I saw the texts.”

“What texts?” You casually retrieve your phone, already knowing what you’ll find there. Opening up the messaging app, you click on Kyle’s name, and laugh.

“Sorry,” you giggle. “I meant to send that to a friend.”

Kyle’s eyes shut, and the sigh he makes is so loud you laugh harder. Clutching his own phone in his hand, Kyle shakes it in his fist.

“You’re having a laugh,” he says.

"No," you giggle. "Just a mistake."

That thin line becomes a smirk. Kyle tosses his phone onto the bed and you immediately know you’re done for.

“I know you, love. Think you’re clever, yeah?”

He saunters forward, and you push up onto your hands, sliding back along the bed.

“Kyle,” you warn.

“Tricking me just to get me home. For what? Think I’m going to bend you over the nearest surface and fuck you?”

Yes. That’s exactly what I think.

You scoot away, sinking into the pile of pillows at the head of the bed. Kyle matches your movements until he’s nearly horizontal over you.

“You’re right,” he continues. “I will.” His gaze roams over your body and then returns to your face. “But first, I’m going to train you into never making a silly mistake like that ever again.”

taglist:

@glitterypirateduck @km-ffluv @tiredmetalenthusiast @miaraei @cherryofdeath

@fern-reads @tulipsun-flower @miss-mistinguett @ninman82 @eternallyvenus

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@saoirse06 @glassgulls @ravenpoe67 @sageyxbabey @mudisgranapat

@lulurubberduckie @leed-bbg @yawning-grave81 @azkza @nishim

@voids-universe @iloveslasher @talooolaaloolla @sadlonelybagel @haven-1307

@itsberrydreemurstuff @z-wantstowrite @keiva1000 @littlemisscriesherselftosleep @blackhawkfanatic

@sammysinger04 @kylies-love-letter @dakotakazansky @suhmie

@keiva1000 @jackrabbitem @arrozyfrijoles23 @lovely-ateez @waves-against-a-cliff

@ash-tarte @marispunk @gingergirl06 @certainlygay @greeniegreengreen

[bloominglegumes]

In your ‘how to draw tf’ what do you search (if you do) to find references for the blaster poses? I love how much character they seem to show

(i assume this is what you were referring to :) )

this response is so atrociously late i dont have any excuse ._.

but to answer the question,, the two poses on the right side were the same as the one on the left, just with a slight bump to show different attitudes :O

in my drawing up there, i felt copying my real figure of blaster exactly made him look a bit stiff, esp considering his personality, so i shifted the original pose slightly to convey some stronger emotions that felt more in line with my idea of blaster :) more sass + cocky attitude, if i had to describe it, giving him more weight on one leg, leaning one way or another to show confidence or hostility or whatever

as for deciding how to bump a pose, all i can rlly suggest for that is to study body language, and pay attention to how different people will act when conveying different emotions! personally i like looking at theatre performance for this, since the exaggeration is something that translates well into art, and u could definitely study from animation as well !! disney classics are classics for a reason fjdhf

since im a transformers blog here tho, i'd place tf one, tfp and earthspark s1 as some great refs for character acting >:))

tf one being feature animation has the fullest range of motion + performance, plus its main cast w pretty different personalities all experience a huge range of emotions + situations over the course of the film and its just beautiful and who wouldnt want to study it frame by frame :DD tfp and earthspark s1 are also fantastic for seeing how to handle posing/acting in a wide range of situations, and theres plenty of screentime to work from ;)

going to stop here before i get too rambly but i hope this was at least a bit helpful? i'm rlly sorry again about leaving this in my inbox for ages :,,))

[meadowfics]

postpartum

husband!babyfather!kang dae-ho x f!wife!mom!reader

in a world where you did get to have your family, unlike what happened here

warnings: mentions of normal post-pregnancy stuff like breastmilk pumping. postpartum depression. dae-ho being ALIVE in this one and being the best husband to you and father to your babies <3

heavily requested in my inbox after what I posted yesterday LMAO

the weight of it all is suffocating.

you sit on the couch, your body sinking into the cushions as exhaustion drapes over you like a heavy, unshakable blanket. 

in your arms, tiny and delicate, byeol drinks from her bottle, her little fingers curling and uncurling against your chest, her slow, steady suckling the only sound anchoring you in the moment.

the babies tiny body is warm against you, her breaths soft, her features too much like dae-ho’s that it makes your heart ache.

normally, you would be lost in adoration, in awe of this little life you brought into the world. you would trace her perfect cheeks with your fingers, marvel at the way her lashes flutter as she drinks, kiss the soft long hair she inherited from her father. 

today, you are simply trying to hold yourself together.

your body is sore, aching from the endless cycle of feeding, pumping, and barely sleeping. your mind feels foggy, tangled with thoughts you don’t want to have, emotions you don’t want to feel. 

you love your daughters, you love dae-ho, you love your family. you would never trade this for anything. 

however, the love isn’t enough to make the heaviness go away.

across the room, seo-ah plays on the floor, a bright burst of energy that fills every corner of the house. she chatters to her stuffed animals, her high-pitched giggles filling the space, making everything feel alive in a way that you cannot.

“appa! look! teddy is dancing!” 

she exclaims, lifting her stuffed bear into the air, twirling it in circles.

dae-ho, sitting cross-legged on the floor beside her, gasps in exaggerated excitement. 

“wahhh! so cool, teddy is so talented!”

seo-ah beams at the praise, her eyes crinkling as she twirls again, her joy infectious, her laughter like sunshine.

normally, that sound would lift you. 

normally, watching dae-ho be the incredible father that he is would warm your heart, remind you that you are not alone in this, that you have him.

today, it only makes the exhaustion worse.

dae-ho’s gaze flickers toward you, sharp and observant, even as he stays engaged with seo-ah’s game. 

he doesn’t miss the tension in your shoulders, the blankness in your eyes, the way your responses are slower, quieter than usual.

he gets up, making his way to you, crouching in front of the couch so that he’s level with you. 

“baby,” he murmurs, his voice soft, careful. 

“are you okay?”

you manage a small smile. 

“yeah, just tired.”

the marine’s warm, calloused hands settle on your knees, thumbs rubbing slow, comforting circles. 

“do you want me to take byeol for a bit? you’ve been holding her all day.”

you shake your head, your arms instinctively tightening around byeol’s small frame. 

“no, i got it.”

dae-ho doesn’t push. he never does. 

he simply nods, but the concern lingers in his eyes.

after twenty minutes, when byeol finishes her bottle, you sigh, shifting in your seat. 

“love, can you do their bedtime routine tonight? i feel… gross. i just wanna shower.”

dae-ho’s expression softens instantly, and without hesitation, he leans forward to press a gentle kiss to your temple before carefully lifting mini byeol from your arms. 

“of course, baby. take your time, okay?”

he doesn’t say it to make you feel better. he means it. 

every time, every single time, he is happy to take care of his girls. 

he never complains, never hesitates. 

he loves them, loves you.

as he walks away, bouncing byeol gently in his arms, calling for seo-ah in that affectionate tone he always uses, you make your way to the bathroom, the door clicking shut behind you.

unfortunately, the moment you step into the shower, the relief you so desperately crave does not come.

the warm water cascades down your skin, but it does nothing to ease the exhaustion weighing down on you. 

the pressure is strong, firm against your sore muscles, but you still feel tense, wound so tightly that no amount of heat can unravel you.

you let your head drop forward, resting your forehead against the cool tiles of the shower wall. your arms hang limply at your sides, the steam rising around you in thick waves. 

for a moment, you try to breathe…slow, deep, steady. but it doesn’t help. nothing does.

your body doesn’t feel like yours anymore.

your breasts ache, swollen and sore from pumping, tender in a way that makes you wince when the water hits them. your stomach, still soft and a little stretched from carrying byeol, stirs something sharp and cruel inside you, something that whispers that you’ll never look or feel the same again. 

honestly, you cannot recall if you felt like this after having seo-ah.

you press your palm against yourself, fingers tracing over the faint marks left behind from your pregnancy, and you don’t know whether you love them or hate them.

a lump forms in your throat as your gaze flickers downward. 

your thighs, your waist, the curve of your hips—none of it looks the way it used to. 

you know, logically, that your body is healing, that you just brought a life into this world. 

sometimes logic doesn’t quiet the thoughts that get at you, that tell you you are different now in a way that you can’t come back from.

you reach for your vanilla body wash, desperate for something familiar, something comforting.

the moment your fingers curl around the bottle, you realize it’s empty.

your breath catches.

it’s stupid. 

it’s just body wash. you can use dae-ho’s. 

it doesn’t matter.

it does.

your hand trembles slightly as you pick up his bottle instead, the scent of cedarwood and musk filling the space. it smells like him, like the warmth of his embrace, like the shirts you steal from his side of the closet. 

you squeeze the soap into your net sponge, rubbing it over your arms, your shoulders, your chest. the wrongness lingers, settling into the hollow of your ribs like an ache that won’t fade.

when will this get easier?

the thought slams into you like a wave, sudden and suffocating.

your chest tightens, and before you can stop it, tears spill over your cheeks, mixing with the water streaming down your face.

you bite down on your lip, trying to keep the sobs at bay, but it’s useless. the emotions hit all at once, hard and overwhelming, crushing under the weight of everything you’ve been holding in.

your shoulders shake as the sobs build, as the exhaustion and frustration and sadness pour out of you in waves you can’t control. 

you press a trembling hand to your mouth, trying to muffle the sounds, trying not to let it get too loud and scare seo-ah from her bedroom.

no matter how hard you try, no matter how much you tell yourself to just get over it, to just be strong…you can’t stop.

the walls feel too close. the steam is suffocating. the sound of the water is deafening.

you squeeze your eyes shut, gripping onto the tile as you try to catch your breath, try to pull yourself together, try to remind yourself that you are okay.

you don’t feel okay.

you don’t know when you will again.

your body still aches. your breasts are sore from pumping, tender in a way that makes you wince when the water hits them. 

the final straw.

and then—

the door creaks open.

you don’t hear footsteps, don’t hear anything other than your own quiet cries. 

then the shower door slides open, and suddenly, there he is.

dae-ho.

your husband.

your breath catches as he takes you in….your trembling frame, the water streaming down your face, the way you try so desperately to wipe away the evidence of your breakdown.

he’s not having any of it.

without a word, he steps forward, his black shirt and joggers instantly soaked as he pulls you into his arms.

“baby,” he breathes against your wet hair, his voice thick with emotion. 

“don’t do that. don’t hide from me.”

you break.

your hands clutch at his shirt, your sobs shaking your whole body as he holds you. his large hands cradle the back of your head, his fingers slipping through your soaked hair as he rocks you gently.

“i know it’s hard,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple. 

“but i’m right here. i’ll always be right here.”

and you believe him.

he stays with you until the tears slow, until your breathing steadies. 

then, gently, he helps you out of the shower, wrapping a towel around you before drying you off with so much tenderness it nearly makes you cry all over again.

you don’t lift a finger.

he stands behind you, brushing through your damp hair before braiding it, his fingers moving with practiced ease thanks to his older sisters. 

he massages your vanilla body butter into your skin, his touch warm, comforting. when he helps you into your nightgown, his fingers linger at your waist, his gaze full of something so raw, so real, that it makes your breath hitch.

in bed, he helps you pump, his hands resting on your thighs, his presence a grounding force.

finally, when you’re settled against him, you whisper, 

“did they go to sleep easily?”

dae-ho hums. 

“byeol was easy, but seo-ah went on a five-minute rant about oreo ice cream before tiring herself out.”

you giggle softly, your heart swelling. 

“she really loves that ice cream.”

you don’t speak again until the question that has been weighing on you slips past your lips.

“dae…will i feel beautiful again?”

dae-ho’s response is immediate.

he pulls you close, pressing kiss after kiss to your forehead, your cheeks, your lips.

“you are beautiful now,” he murmurs against your skin. 

“you’ve always been beautiful. you gave us the most perfect babies. and i promise, baby, you’ll feel normal again. until then, i’ll be here. every step of the way.”

and in his arms, in his warmth, you believe him.

you will be okay, even if postpartum depression keeps trying to consume you.

masterlist

[senitylolz]

Drugged up in love♡

!!WARNINGS!! nam-gyu x reader, p in v, fingering, sex under the influence of drugs, unprotected sex, degradation ( us of the terms "slut, whore" and such), public sex, choking, overstimulation

Also, english isn't my first language, so sorry for the typo mistakes!(⁠๑⁠•⁠﹏⁠•⁠)

Nam-gyu can't sleep because the drugs are keeping him up all night long anyways, so what's better than pulling all nighters? Impregnating your gf while pulling all nighters together~~ ꒰⁠⑅⁠ᵕ⁠༚⁠ᵕ⁠꒱⁠˖⁠♡

After the second game, things started to get boring, and with Thanos giving nam-gyu a damn pill, it still only hyped him up a little bit. And good thing he already did drugs and such because this thing was STRONG. So Thanos wasn't over exaggerating the effects, even if it was an hour into night-time in here, he still couldn't even close his eyes for a minute!

So there you were, the pretty little chick he pulled years ago, his precious little girlfriend.

He quickly got up from his bed from the other huge bunks of beds and climbed down to yours. He didn't say anything. He just laid down beside you and pulled you closer.

Your body heat and closeness (and the drugs) were quick to show its effects on his body, which was a raging hard boner right up against your stomach.

After a few minutes, he got enough and pulled his pants down, grabbing your leg and putting it over his hip. He then started to slowly thrust his dick between your legs, your pants kind of hurt as the material wasn't the best for this type of thing (and the sensitivity of his dick) it kind of scratched, but he couldn't have minded less right now.

After a few moments of that, his tip was redder than a strawberry, it was just aching to be inside of you already and paint those pretty little pink walls of yours white, he was an impatient man, after all.

He changed positions so he was on top of you, pulling your pants down along with your underwear, and the moment those were off, he slid his tip up and down your entrance, he was leaking so much pre-cum it was good for lube.

He then slowly entered you with a small huff, and when he was halfway in, he gave some deep thrusts so his tip was kissing your cervix.

Of course, at this move, you were starting to feel it, still not waking up fully from your slumber though.

He pulled back slowly then set an immediate brutal pace, and THAT woke you up now

"h-hah? Nam-gyu?"

You moaned out, still not sure what was happening completely. He just put a hand over your mouth and leaned down to your ear to whisper in it

"you don't wanna wake the others now, do you? Be a good little bitch in heat and take it, whore~"

Now you slowly started to get your senses back and you nodded slowly as he kept thrusting in and out of you. He continued whispering dirty things in your ear, some groans and grunts leaving him here and there. You also tightened at his sounds and the things he was saying, sucking his dick deeper into your gummy walls.

As you two were both nearing your peak, he reached down to rub your clit fast while he sped up his hips with a long groan in your ear and you bit his hand.

You tried to keep silent but when he came in you, you let a louder moan slip out as you slipped over the edge too.

His hips slowed down after that, panting next to your ear with a little curse word. When you thought it was over, he started to move his hips again and again.

As you were ready to complain you bit back a moan as he bit your neck so hard you were sure he broke skin.

You were already starting to get overstimulated so you just whined and whined until he slid his hand from your mouth to your neck, choking you a little bit

"awh.. poor little slut needs a break? I'm not stopping 'till i knock at least triplets in ya~"

He chuckled darkly and now went slow but so deep you swore his tip was in your womb. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, just nodding again. You were seeing stars, already knowing that your legs would be sore tomorrow morning.

He sped up again, not loosening his grip on your neck, pulling you up into a sloppy kiss as he came in you again.

You came together, but your pussy clenched so hard around his dick he moaned into the kiss. After he pulled away, he started to move his hips again, your combined juices leaking out of your hole as he thrusted in and out

"just another 5 more rounds won't hurt, princess~"

[remeberm3]

scarf | k.m

⎯⎯“Because I’d rather be cold than watch you shiver.”

warnings: fluff

Klaus Mikaelson did not give things.

He took. He claimed. He possessed.

The world was his for the taking, and he had spent centuries wrapping his fingers around everything he desired—land, power, blood, vengeance. A selfish man by nature, a conqueror by instinct.

And yet.

Tonight, he gave you his scarf.

༊*·˚

It had been an unseasonably cold night, the kind that curled its way into your bones, sharp and relentless. The streets of the city glittered with the aftermath of rain, lamplight catching on the damp pavement like spilled stardust.

You hadn’t dressed for the chill. You never did, stubborn thing that you were, forever underestimating the bite of winter.

You had brushed off his concerns earlier, waving a dismissive hand when he told you to bring a coat. And now?

Now you were shivering.

Klaus noticed, of course.

He always noticed.

You tried to be discreet about it, stuffing your hands into your pockets, hunching your shoulders against the wind. But it was no use. He knew you too well, could read you too easily.

And so, without a word, he unwrapped the scarf from around his neck.

The fabric was soft, the kind of luxury that whispered of old money and old habits. It smelled like him—like cedarwood and aged whiskey, like something ancient and endless.

Before you could protest, he draped it around you, tugging it snugly against your skin.

“Better?” he murmured, voice low, rough with something unreadable.

You blinked up at him, caught off guard. “You—”

“Yes, yes,” he drawled, ever the picture of impatience. “I know. I don’t share.” He tilted his head, eyes gleaming. “And yet, here we are.”

You touched the scarf lightly, fingers brushing over the place where it still held the warmth of his body. “You’ll freeze,” you pointed out, as if he of all people could be affected by the cold.

Klaus huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “Darling, I have endured a thousand winters. I think I’ll manage.”

You hesitated. “Why?”

His lips twitched, as if amused by the question.

He could have said it was nothing. That it was simply practical. That it was easier than listening to you complain.

But instead, he leaned in, voice dropping to something softer, something meant just for you.

“Because I’d rather be cold than watch you shiver.”

༊*·˚

Later, you tried to return it.

Of course you did.

You thought you were being clever about it, sneaking into his study and draping the scarf over the back of his chair, thinking he wouldn’t notice.

Foolish.

You might as well have tried to slip something past a wolf’s nose.

Klaus walked in not five minutes later, spotted the scarf immediately, and let out a slow, exaggerated sigh.

“Really, love?”

You feigned innocence. “What?”

He gestured broadly. “This.”

“It’s your scarf,” you reminded him.

“Yes, and I gave it to you.”

“Temporarily.”

“Indefinitely.”

You crossed your arms. “I don’t need it.”

Klaus narrowed his eyes. “Do you truly believe that, or are you just being insufferable for sport?”

“… Bit of both.”

His gaze swept over you, assessing, as if weighing his options. Then, with the kind of dramatic exasperation only he could pull off, he yanked the scarf off the chair, stepped forward, and personally wound it back around your neck.

“There,” he murmured, fingers lingering a second too long against your collarbone. “Problem solved.”

You scowled up at him. “You can’t just decide things like that.”

“I can. I have. I will.”

You sighed, gripping the ends of the scarf. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, you adore me.”

You rolled your eyes, but the warmth in your cheeks betrayed you.

Klaus smirked, smug as anything. “That’s what I thought.”

༊*·˚

The weeks passed.

And slowly—inevitably—the scarf became yours.

Not in name, not in spoken agreement, but in practice.

It lived in your wardrobe, draped over the back of your chair, wrapped around your shoulders on chilly evenings. It absorbed your scent, carried traces of your perfume, belonged to you as much as anything ever could.

Klaus never asked for it back.

Not once.

And if he looked a little too pleased whenever you wore it?

If his gaze lingered, if his lips curled into something unbearably soft when he caught sight of you wrapped up in it?

Well.

That was his secret to keep.

༊*·˚

One night, as you stood before the fireplace, basking in the warmth, Klaus approached from behind.

You felt him before you saw him, the shift in the air, the way your body recognized his before your mind even caught up.

He reached out, fingers brushing the scarf where it rested against your collarbone.

You turned slightly, meeting his gaze. “What?”

Klaus studied you, eyes flickering with something unreadable. Then, quietly, he said:

“I should have given you something sooner.”

You tilted your head. “You’ve given me plenty.”

He hummed, but shook his head. “Not like this.”

Not freely. Not willingly. Not without expecting something in return.

This—this was different.

You reached up, fingers grazing his.

“Then give me something now.”

Klaus’s breath hitched, so quiet you barely caught it.

His hand slid lower, fingers brushing over your wrist, tracing the lines of your pulse—not to take, not to claim, but simply to feel.

You thought he might kiss you.

Instead, he leaned in, voice barely above a whisper.

“I already have.”

And as his arms wound around you, as he buried his face against your hair, as his hold tightened like you were something precious—

You realized he hadn’t just given you his scarf.

He had given you himself.

even more fluff fics <3

[guapitas]

The Unwinding (Draco Malfoy x Reader)

Chapter Five: The Alaskan Bull Worm

Chapters: one, two, three, four

Rated: Mature

Word Count: 4.8k

Summary: Navigating tea leaf readings with a mildly upset Draco Malfoy, and attempting to repair that little bridge. (See the overarching summary for the future of this fic, here.)

Warnings: Language probably?

A/N: Writing is just a tad difficult when you're hit with holiday seasons, a crippling fever, then the hell-bent desire to do nothing but read back to back (': thank you for everyone's patience, should you still be interested in this fic (: <3 we push through it!

You haven’t slept in days. 

Which, okay, is a bit of an exaggeration– but it feels true. Like some psychological thriller, you’re constantly rescreening the events of that night in the infirmary, tossing and turning over them in your bed for an entire weekend. 

What if you had said something differently? Used a different approach, or tone, even? Could you have done anything to achieve a more ideal outcome– whatever that would have been? It’s tortuous. You finally think you’ve driven yourself loony when you can’t even bring yourself to leave your room, too busy contemplating the odds of running into Draco. And, Merlin, the thought of Divination class alone is enough to knock your lungs out of rhythm. 

On the bright side, there’s a single piece of good news, and it greets you in the moment that you step foot in the classroom— the widest smile on Cedric’s face. 

“I’m back,” he says, singsongy when you get close, as if you hadn’t just seen him a couple days ago. Regardless, you cheer with him, offering yays towards him and Marla when you reach your chair. The upgrade from bedrest is exciting enough, but the interaction doesn’t give you an adequate amount of time to prep or stall, before you have no choice but to actually look at where you’re sitting– and who you’re sitting next to. 

Draco’s no different than he’s ever been, writing something down on parchment and exhibiting no physical proof that he’s even aware of your presence. A fucking stone could fly through the window and you think he still would not let it disturb him. And, for the sake of social awareness, you have to pry your eyes away before it becomes weird. 

This is perhaps the one instance that you need Professor Thyme to begin the class immediately, and of course, it’s the one time she isn’t. Instead, you’re forced to fumble around with your things and sit real stiff, too self-conscious to even make conversation with your friends. You’d probably nitpick your afterthought words more than Draco would, but you won’t take the chance. 

After about eight good seconds of an attempt to build your mental fortitude and ignore, you just can’t help it– you should say something… shouldn’t you? This is your semester-long partner, someone you’ve actually been establishing solid rapport with…You have to reach out. 

…Oh, but you can’t! Literally, your mouth is not cooperating with your brain and you refuse to even open it, because you fear whichever words might tumble out against your will. Maybe if you could just apologize, or try to explain whatever distress and ultimately heroic attitude you were undergoing that night– maybe then, you wouldn’t spend this entire class period overthinking every damn breath. 

But just when you consider the possibility of glancing at him again– which could eventually lead to the formation of sentences– Thyme’s voice pulls you in. “Evening, everyone, evening!” 

Mini textbooks soar their way over to each table as she throws herself and her students into the lesson, and once they settle, teacups on saucers follow in suit. Tea leaf readings, you presume, before you’re confirmed by the guidebook in front of you. 

“Tasseography!” White chalk spells it out on the board behind her. “For today’s new adventure, you’ll read each other’s fortunes in the cups that sit before you.” 

And— yeah, sure, of course you will. 

She gives you the breakdown, about drinking the tea and setting the leaves at the bottom, documenting your findings— the works. With how thick the guide is, entailing an overwhelming amount of symbols and what they may mean, the assignment should be easy. Unfortunately for you, however, your partner is Draco Malfoy— particularly, a Draco Malfoy that isn’t very pleased with you at the moment. 

Tea has never quite been your favorite. It has its moments,  but there are certainly plenty of ways to make bad tea, and the one in your hand might as well be the worst of all. This isn’t the fault of the tea itself— in actuality, it’s devastatingly average— but you don’t think you’ve consumed anything any slower than this. There can’t be more than a few spoonfuls of liquid alone, but damn it, the lengths you’ll go to prolong the inevitable. 

You’re left to your own advances, and Draco has probably finished his cup, ready to swap, but you don’t know for sure— you still haven’t looked in his direction again. What should take you maybe two minutes flat is instead pushed into five— seven if you’re patient— until there’s nothing left but the mushy leaves. They drain out at the bottom and begin to take shape with each other…Maybe you could pretend to keep drinking? 

Ah, to hell with it. You lock eyes with Thyme and have no choice but to bite the bullet before causing a scene. He’s already looking at you when you finally turn to face him, expression entirely blank. 

“Are you quite done?” His eyes aren’t exactly holding you hostage, but the emotionless phase is. The friendship you had been chipping at wasn’t all in your head, was it? Sure, a couple of conversations and a class-mandated assignment aren’t the most ideal indicators of companionship, but you enjoyed that time together. You had fun. Hadn’t he? 

“With…”

“With the tea.” He nudges the cup with his own grounds over to your side of the table. 

“Right,” you say, and oblige his implications. In the process of an exchange, you brush up against the cool skin of his thumb. The glasses are so small in any average hands such as yours, let alone Draco’s. He can’t even try to fit two fingers into the handle, so he cradles the other side and lets it swirl.  

Unable to resist the nerves in your chest, you blurt, “I wanted to say sorry… for the other night.” 

The contents of your cup have captured his interest far more than your words, it seems. He’s so calm that you think he may have not heard you, but he eventually shrugs a shoulder. “What for? It won’t change anything.” 

“I happen to quite like Div,” you say, simply put, “and I don’t want to hate my partner. Believe it or not, I would prefer being friends.”

And, finally, something other than an unbelievable amount of impartiality graces his face. It takes a moment to decipher, but you settle on bemusement– then the smallest twitch of his mouth. “Friendship is rather optimistic.” Something about the lift of his eyebrows when he darts his gaze sideways has you cracking a smile. “But I can be civil, I suppose.”

“Brilliant.” A weight suddenly lifts itself from your shoulders, unclouding your mind for the first time in what feels like forever. “Now, on with it. What are my leaves telling you?” 

Draco sits up a little straighter than before, adjusting as he raises the cup to his level. The mini inspection is brief, and in time, he notes, “You’ve got a spiral in yours, spinning counterclockwise. It’s… introspection. It’s asking you to slow down and reflect.”

It’s asking you? Oh, he must be taunting– he didn’t even look at the guidebook! And to be so certain… so succinct… 

You peek over to confirm his findings. “And what if it were spinning clockwise instead?” 

“You’re aware, I’m sure, that there are quite a myriad of ways to analyse divination results– where the spiral is, what surrounds it, its size…” he rambles on with a sigh, head gently lulling alongside the dramatics. 

“I’m aware.” 

“So something like a clockwise spiral could otherwise refer to growth, or a journey. Moving forward. It’s subjective, vague enough to be personalized to the individual. But that isn’t the fortune for you today– you’re being guided to look inwards.” 

Is this Thyme, disguised as Draco, giving you a read? The theory is quickly dispelled by the tapping of her boots coming from the back of the classroom. She waves and twirls around the massive, silky drapes that frame the great window. Huh. So your eyes don’t deceive you– this is Draco. 

“You knew all of this? Off the top of your head?” 

He shrugs, and fucking smirks, smug as hell, despite whatever composure he’s been trying to upkeep. “One of us should be knowledgeable on the subject, don’t you agree?” 

“Alright, show-off, don’t get too excited now. It’s my turn, and, honestly, I think you’ve managed to defy all laws of tea leaf readings, because I swear on my life…” You peer down into the teacup of Draco’s fortune, grimacing, then tip it to give him a better view. Even after a pause for any further ideas to reveal themselves, you have no other answer. “This is a worm.” 

He scowls in an instant, managing to tenderly snatch the cup right out of your hand. Whilst he frowns down at the squiggly line of tea leaves, you take a shot at the guidebook– only half seriously– and go right to the back of the alphabetically ordered list… and there’s just no way. On its very own page… The Worm. And, to make matters worse, you don’t think you’ve ever seen the words ‘hidden’ and ‘danger’ written so frequently in a single section before. 

“Good news, there’s a page for the worm symbol! Can you believe it?” Your stare is plastered onto the thick book in your hands as you skim it. “Bad news, though, the fortune itself is terrible.” 

It’s his huff that lures you away from the writing, and only for a second do you lock eyes, before he’s back to scrutinizing the cup. “This is not a worm.”

“What is it, then?”

Before he can respond, your name is being called from the opposite direction. It grabs your attention and, from her table with Cedric, Marla is the source. “Have you gotten anything good?”

“A spiral! It suggests I reflect and look inwards, or something.” You nod solemnly, mentally holding onto the description that Draco gave. “And Draco got a worm.”

Marla’s brow hitches, and behind her, Cedric stifles a laugh. He absentmindedly turns through the guide, only visibly engaging in the conversation when Marla replies, “Cedric got a heart.”

“Yeah,” Cedric chimes in, leaning forward to reach within your earshot, “So don’t be surprised when I find the love of my life this term!” 

Shaking her head, Marla rolls her eyes so hard it appears painful. “Romance is not the only conclusion from a heart, but, sure, why not?” She then lifts her cup from the table and lets you get a glimpse into it. “I have a key in mine. New opportunities, prosperity, adaptability…” A real sweet smile on her face contrasts the faux nonchalant shrug she gives. 

“Oh? That’s so perfect for you!”

“Isn’t it?” Her eyes must twinkle with how great her grin is, the glee blooming off of her as she sets the cup back down. “I’m thinking it refers to that internship I applied for at the Astral Administration.” 

“Mention my name when you’re giving acceptance speeches.”

“I’m sure I’ll give you thanks in at least one of them..” 

You laugh in jest, “Ha-ha,” before Cedric draws her back in with something about an actual Snitch being an official tea leaf symbol. How very topical, in a world such as this. 

When you turn back towards Draco, it’s as if class has just barely begun– his stance is identical to before, with a stone cold face and eyes that could be anywhere else but here. You wonder if the interaction with Marla was enough to upset him, but no… this is different. The disturbance doesn’t seem like it has anything to do with you at all. The cup with his worm has been nudged to the very edge of the table. 

An are you okay? is on the tip of your tongue, when Professor Thyme swoops in from seemingly nowhere, right to Draco’s side. She looms over the two of you, brunette hair dangling at her elbows. “Anything marvelous in your fortune, Mister Malfoy?” 

His eyes snap upwards, and his neck tilts back just the slightest, while every other aspect of him remains idle. “I’ve got a worm,” he says, with no inclination to elaborate. 

Thyme’s appearance contorts with curiosity, and her lip kind of curls like she’s in on some secret– and who wouldn’t be, when so intertwined with the world of divination? Her fingertips sweep across the table as she continues to walk, digits and knuckles thinly veiled by the skin of her hand. Pleased with the participation of her students, she nods, “Excellent,” and moves onwards. 

Has he given into his vermian fate? It’s rather silly, actually, how much you’d pay to know his thoughts. This entire ordeal of friendship would be made far easier by it, no doubt. 

You nearly ask him, again, if he’s feeling alright, when he masterfully drags his fancy quill along his paper, keeping to himself once more. He must need time to think, you figure, with his sinister, wormy fate and whatnot, so you only mimic his behavior. With a pen, you write up something about looking… inwards… towards what? An aim to please? Crippling indecision? Whatever the case, it’s all on the table. 

When Thyme concludes the class, Marla’s soft hand embraces yours, but only for a beat, in farewell, before she’s off to her next lesson. She leaves you to pack up, slipping materials into your bag alongside Draco, and unable to shake the desire to make at least one more attempt for the day. So as he stands up and out of his seat, you almost snap your damn neck to look up at him. 

“Hey,” you say, perhaps beginning to accept your idiotic nature.

He halts any further movement, the strap of his book bag in hand, and meets your eyes. “Hi?”

“Me and Cedric are off to get drinks right now. Would you join us?” He doesn’t appear any more amused than before, so you try a smile. “My treat.”

Eventually, he gives way with a half-roll of his eyes, glaring to the side. “As if I need to be treated.” And you hold your breath for him to continue– to outwardly agree– but the way he slips into his crossbody bag and waits is enough to ensure your victory. 

Meanwhile, since the damn millisecond of the invitation, you’ve been ignoring the fucking sear of Cedric’s eyes in the back of your head. You’ll have to apologize for this later. 

Partly because the walk to El Mago Dulce is… something else. First, the pace is just utterly off. Draco’s at your left, tall and in stride, and Cedric is just a hair slower than usual to your right, not fully back in his best shape. And second, by the time you’re halfway there, you still have not mastered the balance between a dual conversation. Cedric yaps about how kind his professors have been, how he’s managed to stay on top of his workload, and the next time they’ll let him back on the quidditch pitch. Every so often, you attempt to loop Draco in, but he’s as uncooperative as Cedric is— and he doesn’t seem to particularly mind taking the backseat to this entire interaction. 

And in other ways, you’d have to apologize to Draco, because you hadn’t realized that bringing him to El Mago Dulce would be like introducing him to your relatives. When you bring a third— unfamiliar but familiar— face through the door, and that bell rings, you think Panne must’ve been too surprised to even greet you. Instead, she makes a tiny ‘O’ with her mouth and stares from the table that she’s tending to. 

Is she also going to be weird about this? Not that any of it is entirely unwarranted, but you aren’t sure if you can handle another conversation about how careful you should be around Draco Malfoy. The concern sort of slips your mind, though, when you and Cedric pick a booth and sit across from each other, and Draco slides in right next to you, bumping a little into your shoulder— not that he pays any special attention to it. He’s instead distracted by the pretty pink lampshades and the tall, clear pantries lined up along a wall. They’re always stocked with the freshest sweetbread, any kind you can think of. 

“Ay, mijo,” Panne’s voice comes nearer at a record-breaking speed, before any of you can get a word in, until she’s at Cedric’s side of the table. He does his best to stand and meet her, but the tabletop restricts his knees, so he goes in for the hug the very best he can, grinning mad. “How are you? Did you get everything?” 

“Every cookie, bread, drink, I got it all,” says Cedric, pulling his face away from her shoulder and sitting back down, his hand offering a final squeeze. “And I’m practically brand new! Not a scratch on me anymore.” 

Though this isn’t… particularly true. The majority of Cedric’s injuries– scrapes and bruises and all– have gone away with remedies and time, but he’s also shown you and Marla a split on his ribcage that refuses to ease up. It doesn’t even hurt anymore, but it’s thick and scarred and you cringe just thinking about it, hidden beneath Cedric’s layers. 

When they’ve just about finished catching up, a round of butterbeers finds the table, and from behind the counter, Canelo gives a small nod of acknowledgement. You wave in thanks, and Panne clasps her hands together. “Is there anything else I can get for you? Butterbeers are on the house, to celebrate our sweet Cedric’s recovery!” And there’s no protests about that. 

“Have you ever tried champurrado?” You ask Draco, to which his eyebrows pinch together and he shakes his head. “I’m usually not a fan, but Panne’s is a must-try! He’ll have one, please.” 

Panne has been primarily focused on you and Cedric, but now she looks at Draco, and her smile never falters. “Of course, one champurrado for sweet…”

“Draco,” he finishes, “thank you.” 

And then she’s off to assist new guests that walk in, and you kind of can’t resist a breath of relief. She must know the… iconic Draco Malfoy, even by appearance alone– but to ask him his name regardless? The gesture warms your heart, if no one else’s. 

“That was Panne,” you say, mostly to fill the gap of silence, “and her husband, at the bar, is Canelo. Los Dulces.” 

Draco looks all confused again, eyes squinted now like he’s trying to detect something else in your words. He asks, hushedly, “Are those their real names?” 

Well… mostly, you think, so you shrug, even though his sincerity urges you to laugh. A couple of years ago, you asked the same question to Panne herself, long since securing your spot as a regular. Canelo Dulce is and has always been Canelo Dulce, but Panne is a nickname. Patricia Analise Dulce… Panne. “Yeah, pretty much. A cute coincidence?” 

By the time the champurrado arrives, and you’ve already had a few drinks of the butterbeers, you’re fairly certain that Cedric has looked in every fucking direction, at all corners of the café, except for Draco. The worst part is, you can’t really blame him– you did spring this on him, after all, but you didn’t think that his distaste was anything beyond a general distrust, rather than some personal beef. As always, his melodrama has been underestimated. 

“It’s thick,” Draco notes, and drinks again from his new mug. You wait for further analysis, and you catch his eyes when they drag over towards yours, acutely aware of your attention. “Chocolate, cinnamon, and something else…” 

“The masa, probably. That’s what makes it thick.” Your input does noticeably little to serve his curiosity, but he returns to the drink anyway.

At the other end of the table, Cedric cannot be any less engaged. Chin in one hand, butterbeer in the other, and he is fucking glowering at you. It almost makes you laugh again– and you do crack a smile– but you opt to entertain him instead. “Have I told you about my shift tomorrow? And, yes, I’m being forced to work.” 

This finally subdues him, but only slightly, as he releases himself from the laser beam glare and leans back against the plush leather seat, arms crossed. “Merlin forbid you work two shifts a week.”

“Three, actually– sometimes four! Can you believe it?” 

“Absolutely mad. How dare they?” He eases up now, even tossing back the little playful simper     as his shoulders fall. 

“Yeah, well, I’ll forgive them this once. I’m doing another tour tomorrow and it’ll be the last before the snow sets in! Butterflies everywhere, fairies working overtime, and the gardens coming out of transition phase. It’ll be perfect.”

To your side, Draco is slithering around at the mere mention of fairies. That memory of your time together at The Grove rouses you, so before Cedric can respond, you add, “Draco actually met Flora the other day.” 

Cedric stalls in his reply, locked up with your gaze, like he’s wondering if you’re being deadass, if you’re really trying to force him into a conversation about and– oh god, maybe even with Draco Malfoy. It takes everything not to giggle at how quickly the buoyancy is wiped clean off his face, leaving a dry smile in its wake. He yields, though begrudgingly, “Really…”

And… that’s all. You hold out hope for him to say literally anything else– anything that you can use to propel the conversation further– but the makeshift rhetorical question is the last of his contributions. Your attempt is hopeless, however, like your savior, Draco butts in all on his own. 

“That bloody Flora, wouldn’t mind if I never saw her again.” 

This has you jumping to her defense now, testifying on behalf of Flora’s good character, and joyed to have something to work a conversation with. Although the sneer on Draco’s face is relentless, you’ve at least got his ear. “Oh, and just wait ‘til you meet Ivy! She’s much easier to befriend.” 

This route of conversation, though purely accidental, might be your saving grace of the evening, if only Cedric would give in. You watch each other for a few hardened seconds, before he shifts his attention over to Draco, utterly defeated. He fishes something from the logs of his memories in an attempt of affability, on your behalf. “When I first met Flora, she managed to sic a colony of fire ants on me. One crawled right up my leg and burrowed itself, until I was a case even Madame Amani had never seen before. So… you’re not quite alone.” 

His voice is so calm, entirely opposed to his live reaction that day, maybe two years ago now, and it has you laughing, even if neither of your companions are up for that sort of mood at the moment— the absurdity of the memory still drags it out of you. And the masked terror on Draco’s face does nothing to quell your hilarity. Through your fist, you physically attempt to reign yourself in and intervene once more, “To be fair, that was mainly George’s doing. It was all in good fun.” 

“And you made no effort to talk sense into either of them! Quite the friend you are, I should’ve cut you off right then.” 

“Yeah, you should’ve.” 

Draco and his everlasting posture endures in the spot next to you, but he leans into the seat a little further now, perhaps, like Cedric, accepting the circumstances. It had earlier crossed your mind that you may have to cut this coffee date short, make something up about schoolwork or preparations for tomorrow’s tour, only for the sake of mimicking a natural end to an awkward event. Though by the time your butterbeer dwindles down to nothing at the bottom of the glass, and Draco offers up the rest of his own–  “The champurrado is superior anyway.” – you find those efforts unnecessary. 

When you’ve managed about half of the second mug, giving up on the rest, Panne interrupts a conversation about quidditch cups. It’s nice, for a moment, to experience the conversation rather than lead it. In one hand, she has another rolled up bag with what must be sweetbread, and with the other, she palms it flat against the plane of her chest, right over her heart. 

“Those poor kids,” she says, sullen, and meets the confusion on your face. You weren’t quite aware that the news had made it so far out of campus, though word spreads fast, and perhaps news outlets even faster. “Canelo checks the papers every day, and nothing! Zilch, nada. No updates on them.” 

“It’s the same for us at school,” says Cedric, in a softer voice now that the bell is ringing at the entrance, bringing in more guests and bigger crowds. “Nurses won’t tell us a thing.” 

Panne curses to herself and leaves the bag at the center of the table, rolled up nice and neat. “You three be careful. I don’t think our old hearts could take it if you were hurt.” She directs her attention between you and Cedric then adds, “Make sure you tell Marla this, too.” 

If Panne had wielded the same information about the potential cause of this tragedy— or that you dared to press the matters and get involved— would she be upset? Try to convince you to leave the situation alone, to let the professionals deal with it? Maybe, and perhaps she’d be right to do so. The clutter escapes your mind as you bid farewells and head back to campus, Cedric wasting no time to unravel the bag. 

“There’s an extra vanilla!” He looks across from you, finding Draco on the other side, and holds out the offering. “Must be for you.” 

Once distributed, and the lone strawberry is wrapped up to be saved, Draco finally speaks up again, mostly to himself, and just before biting into the treat, “How could they possibly know vanilla is my favorite?” 

Cedric is the first to split off once you hit the edge of campus, leaving you and Draco to lead once more to the Slytherin dormitories. The sweetest nap in the school’s most comfortable bed awaits you, now that you can bear to sleep again. In this spirit, there aren’t many words to be said as you walk, instead embracing the breeze and dusting sugar powder off your fingertips. This was a success, you think, and you wonder if Draco might be inclined to join again on one of your butterbeer outings. 

Down the last turn to the dorms, a voice calls out, “Mister Malfoy!” 

Your head whips around in every direction, but not a single person in sight appears to be the source. Had Draco not followed the sound, you might’ve thought yourself to have imagined it. He even replies to someone you still cannot pinpoint, “Good to see you sir.” A little bow of his head steers you straight to the wall, where a portrait of a man waving a few fingers greets you in passing. 

“You‘re friends with the portraits?” Mentally add it to the list of fun Draco facts that have surprised you thus far; though, upon consideration, it sort of suits him. 

“They’re good company.” He speaks so casually, and glances into your gaping eyes when he doesn’t get a response. “Rather wise, too.” 

It’s a jovial stroll to the common room, where Draco mutters something about alchemy coursework and scurries off up his set of stairs, too fast for you to even slip in a meaningful goodbye– or to segue into a debrief of the afternoon. It’s too bad, but you figure that you’ll catch up with him again during the next class. 

Nothing insane has changed by the end of the day, really. Your relationship with Draco has been remedied, and he and Cedric may be able to do more than simply scowl at each other now, but the world still spins, and much business has yet to be tended to. Best save it for another time, you agree upon yourself when you’ve curled up in bed at the end of it all. 

As for now, the weight of Draco Malfoy on your mind, particularly for the nth night in a row, is becoming too much to bear. Though, for once, you’re at ease, because at the rate things are going, with the amends and truces of the day, all should be settling back to what it once was– or even to a new and improved version, you dare to hope. This will be the last night Draco Malfoy consumes your consciousness. And in the back of your brain, swinging between sleep and wakefulness, Henry Selwyn and Rebecca Avery. Finally, anxiety has no grip on your heart, and surely the nurses will find a way to cure whatever curse or illness has fallen upon them. You’re certain of it.

..taglist? (': @malfoy-mrsdracomalfoy <3

[sanccharine]

16 | lesson plan

hogwarts au

pairing: hufflepuff!tzuyu x slytherin!reader  genre: fluff, slice of life  word count: 3.2k

warnings: brief mention of bad parents

summary: whether on the field or during class, you never shied away from trouble. and in your sixth year, trouble seemed to follow you like a shadow, though you couldn’t complain. especially when that series of misfortunes led you to the transfiguration prodigy, chou tzuyu. includes: red velvet’s yeri, ateez’s san, yeosang and wooyoung, txt’s yeonjun

status: ongoing a/n: there are probably many mistakes, rip <3 also think i posted for hufflepuff!tzu like... seven months ago. yes, you can insert clown music here.

masterlist | chapter 15 | chapter 17

“What?” Tzuyu looked at you like you’d grown a second head. 

“Teach me Transfiguration!” you said, grinning as the idea formed in your mind. It wasn’t too bad, you didn't think so at least. “Be my tutor.” 

When Tzuyu just stared at you in silence, you tacked on. “Please,” you offered your best smile. 

Tzuyu stilled. Her mouth opened, a vague sound escaped, and then she closed it again. She was speechless. Did you say something wrong? You don’t think you did. Maybe she wasn’t interested… but she had offered. 

In your head that request made the most sense. You wanted to get better at Transfiguration. You wanted to study with her in the library again. You wanted to spend more time with her. And she’s offered before, not this explicitly, but her offer to help was always open, at least for you. So you were taking it—taking the chance. 

Trying your hardest not to frown, you prepared yourself for rejection. Of course, just because she’d offered at a previous point in time, doesn’t mean she’d still offer now. 

You hugged the Transfiguration textbook closer when you asked again. “I want you to help me get better at Transfiguration,” you said, confident but a bit more somber. You wanted to express that you were being genuine. And then added again, “Please.” 

Tzuyu blinked once, owlishly. Then again. 

“Okay,” she bit her lower lip, eyes shifting to the textbook in your hands before glancing up at you. “I’ll do it.” 

“Yeah?” you asked, trying to bite down the grin. Tzuyu only hummed in response. 

For a moment the pair of you just observed the other. The light glimmering in her eyes was so obvious, and if you were brave, you’d like to imagine it was because of you. The corner of her lips twitched up and down, and you wanted to call her out. Tell her she didn’t have to hold back her smile just like you were trying to, but instead you opted to just watch her. Deciding it was better to jump around in your mind, than stupidly in front of her. 

Abruptly, Tzuyu cleared her throat. She looked down for a moment, and when she looked back up again, her usual mask was on. Though not that it helped your own grin. Because you knew behind that mask, she was feeling somewhat giddy as you did. 

“Class?” Tzuyu pointed to the entrance, her hand still gripping the strap of her bag. It was a gift how well she was able to control her expressions. “We’re late.”

“Oh, right, of course,” you shook away the smirk that was itching to spread on your face. Stepping to the side in a bow, you extended your hand in an exaggerated manner. “Prefects first.” 

Tzuyu hummed, rolling her eyes at your act. But you didn’t miss the smile on her lips when you looked up at her. 

When the pair of you walked in, the class fell silent. You didn’t see what Tzuyu was doing in front of you, but you did catch Yeosang throwing her a thumbs-up. Unlike her, you didn’t want to reconvene with your friends, they’ve probably guessed how detention went from the expression on your face. And you’d like to avoid the teasing as long as you could. You did, however, glance at Lee, but she didn’t really let any expression past her. Though, there was a small twitch of her lips in greeting. Lastly, you looked at Yeosang, just before taking your seat next to him. He gave you a little wave, before showing the textbook page you needed to be on. 

Once Lee noticed you and Tzuyu had settled, she resumed her class and turned her back to you to write something on the board. That instant, something struck the back of your head. You lurched forward, patting the back of your head, before noting the crumpled piece of parchment by your feet. 

Fortunately, for you, you quickly picked up the parchment and flattened the paper while Lee was still focused ahead. Unfortunately, for your friends, both Yeosang and Tzuyu turned to face them. The scorn of Yeosang’s face was scathing, it was truly fascinating how such a pretty face could contort into such an ugly sneer. Coughing into your sleeve, you hid your snort. 

But holding back your laughter proved to be more difficult when you turned to the back of the class. Wooyoung was waving his hand as wildly as one could and then gestured as if writing a note. San was trying to pull him to his seat, afraid Lee would turn at any second. 

How did detention go? was written in Wooyoung’s hurried scrawl. 

You turned to him and he was signing with two thumbs-up followed right by two thumbs-down. Seeing as you’d be getting more notes to your head until you answered him, you offered a smile with a singular thumbs-up. 

Excited about the detention, you missed how San stiffened next to Wooyoung. 

“L/N, care to explain what you are doing?” 

You couldn’t be serious.

“Detention, really? Come on, Professor,” you groaned, remaining back with Lee. 

“You were passing notes—”

“I was getting notes—”

“You were disrupting my class—”

“Oh, come on,” you said again, throwing up your arms. 

“That will be detention, again,” she continued before you could interrupt her again. “Library duty, same time next week.” 

“Oh. I…” you straightened, contemplating the detention. It was more time with Tzuyu. You nodded. “Yeah, I can do library duty—”

“I was not asking,” you give her a deadpan look to match her own. “Also,” she pulled out a piece of parchment from her drawers. “I have your next assignment.” 

You raised your eyebrows and took the parchment from her. Quickly skimming over the assignment, you furrowed your eyebrows together. You recognized the question.

“Yes, that is the same question you left blank in your O.W.Ls. I’m glad you remember it.” 

Frowning, you caught her gaze again. When Lee met your stare with a steely look, you don’t doubt you have something akin to a glare on your face. Though, if Lee was irritated by the disrespect she didn’t care to show it. 

“Why—”

“Because I know you’ve improved—”

“Why did you take me into your class?” 

You ask the question again. The one you’ve been thinking of since you received the letter that you got into N.E.W.T level Transfiguration. 

As if Lee knew you had more to say, she stayed quiet.

“I know I didn’t meet your requirements, so why would you make an exception?” you ask, with a sigh. “And don’t say something stupid and vague like potential, Professor.” 

If anyone knew how to disrespect a teacher, it was you. 

But if anyone knew how to take your insolence without being perturbed, it was Lee. 

Her eyes only shifted slightly, a deadly glint over her glasses as she steepled her fingers in front of her face. 

“I didn’t make an exception—”

“Bullshit,” you rolled your eyes. Lee looked neither appalled nor admonished you for your language. She kept watching you, like you were an explosion she was waiting to go off soon. 

Then, she turned to her left, looking at the empty space in her desk and uttered a conjuring spell. Within seconds, a spotted frog appeared out of thin air. Lee jutted her chin at the frog, the animal blinking at you like you were its owner. 

“Cast a vanishing spell.” It was an order. 

Unnerved, but still obedient, you pulled out your wand and pointed at the frog. With one simple move of your hand, you said, “Evanesco.”

Just like the frog had appeared, it had vanished.

Raising your brows, you nodded to yourself. It was a clean spell. You looked at your wand, appraising it, surprised that it cast the spell so well. Perhaps, you’re not so hopeless. You turned to Lee, expectant and confused all the same. Will she be grading this or something? 

“Now, tell me the theory behind that spell.” 

Your mind went blank. 

Lee raised a single eyebrow, waiting for your answer, but you had none. 

“Vanishing is one of four branches of Transfiguration… ?” you trailed off when you heard yourself. Even to your own ears, you didn’t seem confident in the statement. Lee fixed you with an unimpressed glare but she sighed. 

“Do you remember how you learnt it?” Lee asked but you just shrugged. 

“You taught it to us last year,” you said, unceremonious but Lee just shook her head. “You taught it to us in fourth year?”

You weren’t sure what exactly she was fishing for until she pursed her lips, clearly unhappy with your answers. But it was clear, you weren’t leaving anytime soon. 

Thinking back to a year even further back, it finally clicked. Third year had been very strange for you. With somewhat of a rebellious streak, running in and out of detentions and with the threat of being pulled out from Hogwarts altogether, it had been a blur of a year. 

The only thing that was clear as day was that Lee did not let you out of her sight. To you, at the time, it was her way of controlling you. Admonishing you. Your parents were on your back. Lee was on your back. Everyone, all at the same time, looked at you as if you were a ticking bomb. 

Lee found any and all reason to have you benched in her office, detention after detention. If Slytherin weren’t so good at Quidditch, you wouldn’t be surprised if your detentions alone lost your house the House Cup. Not that it did, of course. 

While those detentions had mostly been a waste of your time, if you were to look further, there were also Lee’s students. The prodigies and the favourites and the ambitious, at her office between classes to improve their learning in Transfiguration. And in those detentions, you’d see older students attempt a varying range of spells, again, and again, and again. 

Vanishing spell, being one of them. Purely out of boredom, you often attempted to copy older students, granted you were never successful, and you’d land another detention from Lee if she caught you. But you’d seen so many spells, so many attempts, that by the time you’d officially been introduced to the spell during the next year, the basics of casting it had been ingrained into your brain. 

Maybe you had an inkling of what Lee was trying to say…

“I got lucky—”

“Try again.” Lee said, and you frowned. 

“I practiced.” You admitted, finally. “I watched your fifth-years fail again and again, and learnt from their mistakes.”

In fact, looking back that’s how you’d gained many of your spells. Vicariously. 

You’d always assumed casting spells, especially with a wand, came a little naturally to you because of your parents. You are a pureblood after all. But it was never the case. You’d learnt it like you learnt Quidditch. Watching others cast and watching others play. You never understood why it works or how it works, you just know that it works exactly this way. And then you practice, mimicking every move with an almost clinical precision until it worked, until it was second nature.

When Lee had chosen you to attempt that specific spell in front of the class, you’d cursed her in your mind. Thinking she was doing it to spite you, embarrass you in front of your betters, prove that you could not do well in Transfiguration. Just like your parents had told you. Just like you believed it to be. 

Such foolish, childish thoughts, but you thought them to be true. Of course, your own doubts had blown up in your face. The frog you were asked to vanish, sputtered and floundered when you miscast. Lee only frowned and asked you to take your seat again. You glared through the rest of the class, deciding not to pick up your wand again for that lesson.

“You were one of the few handful of students who successfully cast the vanishing spell during your O.W.Ls,” Lee said, taking off her glasses to wipe them. Her words cut off your memory of your failure. But you could barely remember the exam where you cast the spell correctly. “It was that practical that gave you the marks to enter my N.E.W.Ts class.” 

You shrug, about to counter her. 

“Maybe when you stop labelling yourself as stupid or a failure, you will actually see the potential everyone else sees in you,” Lee sighed, pushing back her glasses. “Again, I don’t take charity cases. I’m not that kind.”

You knew that much. 

“I know you’re trying harder than ever this year, and I commend that… but the journey will be easier if you just let yourself breathe a little,” the urge to bite back, to be defensive was difficult to swallow down, but you managed to keep your mouth shut. “It is not easy—it won’t be easy, but you are not the hopeless case as you believe yourself to be.”

Professor Lee paused, a brief flicker of hesitation caught on her usually confident mask. Then, she sighed out. 

“Like your parents believe you to be.”

It was as if someone had pulled you taut by puppet strings attached to your spine, forcing you to stand upright. Your muscles were so tense that you couldn’t even curl your fingers into fists. Lee frowned at your reaction, minute as it was, at the mention of your parents. 

 “It would do you good to remember that,” Lee offered in a kinder tone than you’ve ever heard her speak. “Please,” she emphasised the word, “remember that.” 

After a few moments of silence to let her words sink in, Lee sighed once more. 

“On top of your extra assignments, I want you in my classes with the lower years any time you are free. At the minimum of twice a week, teaching others will help you relearn the basics. You clearly have no talent for note-taking and completing your readings,” it's a skill how she lifts you and puts you down within a minute, one she has mastered. “But on top of relearning the basics, teaching your juniors will show you what you know, even when you think you don’t know anything.” 

Lee finished and looked at you, pointed.

“Is that understood?” 

You nodded wordlessly. 

“Alright, let the first-years in, and don’t take up anymore of their time,” Lee said with finality and got up to write something on the board. 

Dismissed, you turned and left. 

Like Lee had asked, you left her classroom without holding back her class. But of course not without a quick fist bump to both Minwoo and Jooyeon. Some other first-years just stared strangely at you, and for the fun of it, you extended your hand to them too. You couldn’t help but chuckle when some reciprocated. 

The rest of your day went better than expected. 

Attending classes felt lighter now that you’ve sorted out everything with Tzuyu. If you weren’t seated with your friends, then you were tailing Yeosang and Tzuyu. You were reintroduced to some of their other friends, technically you should know their names. However, you didn’t, but you were making an effort this time around.

During the lunch break, you updated your friends on the full story of the detention, not sparing as single detail. Not even how you’d asked Tzuyu to tutor you. While teasing was your friends’ way of showing affection, you appreciated the way they listened until you finished. San and Yeonjun sung you praises, the latter slowly leaning into teasing with every new sentence. Though you weren't too fussed, not when Yeri only shared a proud smile. Words didn’t need to be shared between the pair of you.

“Practice tonight?” she asked as she got up to get to her class. 

“Lake side?” you asked, finishing up your lunch. Yeri just nodded. “Yeah, let's try the new play?”

Yeri nodded again as she ruffled Yeonjun’s perfectly slicked-back hair before leaving the hall. 

Classes after lunch went without much fanfare, for most of them you shadowed your friends. Every so often glancing at Tzuyu in hopes she was glancing back. And when you did catch her, she’d be wearing that suppressed smile of hers before she looked down to hide it altogether to look focused in class. The interaction feels something like sharing a secret. 

When your last lesson finished, you caught her just as she left the classroom. 

“So, Professor Chou, when is our first lesson?” you asked, tone lighter than usual as you fell in step with her.

“Eager?” she asked with a brow raised, while her lips did that thing again to suppress her smile.

“Sure, yeah,” you shrugged in answer, doing something of your own to not display just how eager you were. “Let’s keep the lessons consistent. How about our free period in the morning, every week? Does that work?” 

“I have detention that time for next week,” she said, with a slight downturn of her lips. 

“Oh, I’ll be joining you,” you said with a grin accompanied by a one-shoulder shrug. “Library duty again. Can’t wait.” 

“What did you do now?” Tzuyu asked with a deadpan stare and you didn’t have the energy to feign hurt. 

“Does it matter?” you chuckle, slightly shuffling to the side as a student hurried past you. “Let’s start from the week after, how about it?” 

For some reason, you wanted verbal confirmation from her. Wanted to hear that she was as eager to teach you as you were to learn from her. Even if it was only a fraction of what you felt. That feeling being the yearning for academic prowess, of course. Nothing to it more than teaching and learning.

“Yeah, that works for me,” Tzuyu nodded with a small smile as the pair of you made a turn. “Same place in the library?” 

Your grin widened in answer. The noise of students chattering increased as the both of you neared the great hall. Tzuyu mirrored your smile as you entered the hall but came to a stop at the entrance. While it was merely optional, the pair of you would separate here to head to your own house tables. Unfortunately, the tables were separated by Ravenclaw. 

“Perfect,” she fully turned to face you, her smile morphing into something a little more serious. Taking the hint, you turned to face her, with a semi-serious nod. “We should focus on casting non-verbally first. So let's start with simple spells.”

You blinked, momentarily pausing as Tzuyu continued to plot her lesson plan. Your own smile, slowly but surely, tilting downwards.

She was taking this far too seriously… or perhaps, you should be taking it more seriously.

“Brush up on second-year and third-year spells,” Tzuyu paused for a moment, contemplating her own instruction but then nodded anyway. “Yes, brush up on those spells and we can start from there. We can work our way up. You’re an intuitive caster, but practice cleans you up. I don’t doubt you’ll master non-verbal casting.” 

Homework and a character analysis from the get-go. 

What did you just sign yourself up for?

any feedback is much appreciated.

a/n: mind you 3k of this had already been written... it was just sitting there untouched IM SORRY ;-; hope you all have a good day/night <3

taglist: @someone-who-likes-broccoli @tatliegilim @nanabongos @pandafuriosa60 @eternallyghosting

send an ask to be added !

[minweber]

Well, thank you, Veilguard, for supplying me, for the next few years, with something over which to agonize how great it could have been if just about everything about it was different - or, as it is better known, The Essential Dragon Age Experience.

[crazyalien87]

gender dysphoria is not the same as anorexia or bulimia. liposuction doesn't work for eating disorders since they will always want to be skinnier. or something idk why i should have to know about every single mental disorder that gets compared to gender dysphoria by biased, uneducated fools. has a liposuction ever cured a eating disorder or at least reduced the symptoms? no. but medical transitioning works for most gender dysphoric people to reduce or even eliminate their dysphoria. also, trans people usually have to go to therapy for several months to a year at least before they can even medically transition. a good therapist would help them deal with their body issues and anything else to get rid of their dysphoria before continuing with medical treatment. yes, trans people and gender dysphoria are understudied due to bias against them and mental health in general. but that doesn't mean that hormones and surgeries that have been done for many decades are too dangerous for anyone to get them.

maybe if gender dysphoria was actually studied more and from an unbiased lens, we could know why it is often different from other "body dysphorias" (did you mean dysmorphia?). maybe it is because those with eating disorders want to become unhealthily underweight, whereas gender dysphoric ppl want to go from one healthy state to another. or maybe it is because those with eating disorders and body dysmorphia have a skewed perspective of their body (those with anorexia think they are way fatter than they are and those with body dysmorphia either perceive a bodily "flaw" that they don't have or they see it in an exaggerated way), whereas those with gender dysphoria see it as it is. a trans woman is not being delusional when she sees she has a masculine jaw.

are gender identities just a fantasy, or something stemming from gender dysphoria (or you saying you should hurt a mentally ill person a purpose? nah of course not). AGAIN, gender dysphoria is NOT DELUSIONS (yet you act like you are smarter than me somehow...). Also, when did I say I supported people "forcing their gender identities" on anyone? Let me lay it out for your annoying ass. I think it is reasonable to refer to trans ppl as the pronouns of whatever the fuck they pass as. I also think it is reasonable for trans ppl to not come out to too many ppl b4 they pass as the opposite sex (obviously they have ti come out to doctors and psychiatrists tho). I also think that having to call a non-passing, non-dysphoric trans woman she is ridiculous. what happened to trans women boymoding until they can pass and go stealth? vice versa for trans men. nonbinary ppl can be a bit more complicated, but it shouldn't be difficult for others to refer them as they and avoid using sexed terms for them when around them.

I know what I'm talking about, I've been in lgbt spaces online for several years, I've been a tucute, a truscum, a gender critical, a terf, and a tirf.

why should i accept trans people "as they are" if they couldn't accept themselves as they were born? and don't tell me that "they accept themselves, they were just born in the wrong body and the wrong gender», sperm is not a dumb idiot like you, open a biology textbook and find out why the hell you were born the way you were born

[lunaryhues]

Me: "Can I please use all this energy to draw on an actual project"

My brain: "You will draw the same character over and over and you will like it."

Me: "Okay."

[chasedeys]

i want you to yap about jj/koc!!!!! tell me what your fav headcanons are about them <3

THE WAYYYYYYY I HAVE YET TO ANSWER YOUR ASK ON THAT JOE HAREM AKDHSKSJSKSKSK sort of its not even really harem bc like. is it. legit. its in my drafts. waiting for me to yap. its so good. i have shit to say abt it. i literally want to branch abt ja’marr and tee for the wr room too. and treymarr LMAOOOO and chase for the rb room even if like. the rb room is kind of sad and i wanted to focus more on his poly insanity of the 23 rookies dragging big dick mike into it BUT let me answer this one first 😭 yeah…...

ANYWAYS. headcanons. um. i don't have much. FFJFJFJ let me direct you to my prev ask um....

god i don't even know much about their lore to actually like. expand my shit about them LMAO like. if i base shit from this one post i'd say like. ko being a whole completely new thing for justin. justin's previous coaches being?? not so well???? or like. not as invested or as into him or as developing as ko is even if he clearly has broken vikings records since he got into the vikings like christttt this man is talented and ko clearly knows how to use him.

as i said in that previous askkk ko being the one to be able to like. break apart justins numerous layers of 1) pr perfect (CARMENS ASK ON THIS IS INSANE BTW. WILL GET TO THAT AT SOME POINT ARGH) then 2) lashing out tiger claws etc etc then finally 3) the justin jefferson that gets to break down and stumble and fall and titter uncertainly and very much never to be seen on camera but!! ko gets for some fucking reason and that shit terrifies the ever living shit out of justin who the fuckkk does this guy think he is waltzing into his team with his warm smile and steady hands and certain gait and kind words and clever playbook and encouragement and acceptance. skittering away uncertainly at first when ko shows him this but come on now this is justin jefferson when has he ever run away from anything ever next thing you know he's marching right back to ko and re-introducing himself and boom. charmed and being charming and i don't think he's ever going to let go of ko ever and i don't think ko's ever letting go of him ever lmao.

as ive said ko is like. incredibly soft, such a players coach, that time where he told sam to step away for a sec just to say he was proud of him?? and that clip of him to the side staring at his team hauling sam up oh my godddd. and also again based on this one post ive seen ages ago and ingrained to my fucking head about them its like. it's so fucking FUNNYYYYYY to me. how koc has legitimately mentioned justin has a great smile 😭 i have no idea if he's mentioned it some other times before probably tbfh but. that's so sweet 😭 justin DOES have a pretty smile……the prettiest thing about him dare i say……thank you coach kevin o'connell for mentioning this in actual to everyone in an official article for real lmao SORRY got distracted but. he's so sweet. so kind with his words. and so soft. and just soooo??? so easy to fall for so it took justin like. days. fucking DAYS. for him to just. starts wobbling. eyes to starts skittering away when ko tries catching his gaze. a whole week of just adjusting to new feelings before he starts to snap his spine back into himself because he's justin fucking jefferson and boom he's flirting right back (not that like. ko flirts intentionally at times 😭 they're both just. such natural unintentional flirts at times its a travesty to their team theyve learned to just. live with it. their social media team delights and despair it.).

and i think about ko is that he's like. incredibly charmed by justin. so fucking amazed by his talent. who the fuckkkk works like him. who breaks records like justin jefferson. unable to stop himself from just. gaping. eyes wide everytime he sees justin catch a ball. eyes following his figure running across the field. ears ringing knowing he has to navigate and call a play call a name call something but fuck he's just focused on how justin's smiling how he's swinging around his hips laughing with jordan and practically gleaming underneath the stadium lights. pretty. fucking gone for him. also. great smile. stilllll so stuck on him mentioning justin's smile alkfkasf soooo funny god crying at this.

also: comparing yet again ja'marr and justin. competency kink 😔 justin being soooo horny for ko's offensive schemes and all his coaching abilities and hey he has thrown with justin right so like. well.

the flirting. ive talked a bit here mostly as comparison to joemarr's preschool ass shy unable-to-meet-eyes flirting. they are soooo. fucking. Shameless. how the fuck. no really but they are upfront about it they look at each other straight in the eyes and giggle at each other and tilt their chins provocatively and just say shit. whatever the fucking words are positively DOUSED with flirty energy. they can be talking about the fucking weather, routes and plays, or even taking the most humongous most disgusting most gut-wrenching shit of their lives ever and it would still sound like they're flirting about ferris wheel dates and candle-lit dinner and fucking on a bed of roses. sorry but 😭. if you listen to any bit of mic'ed up moments between them, or interviewed moments between them, it's genuinely crazy it's like. they can't help themselves. they're natural flirts?? around other people but when they meet each other they up the fucking ante to about 10000000000 billion watt so. either you get used to it or you just. skedaddle out of sheer uncomfortableness. dare i say that their team has gotten so fucking used to it 😭 dare i say that that shit is contagious and now a whole lot of them especially the influenceable rookies are following their footsteps. vikings.....oh boy.......every time i see practice vids its crazy btw there's always a moment of ko just having to pop by and just like nudge at justin and justin just like blooms under his gaze its so cute they're so cute 😭

there's also this LMAOOOOO no but really. how many times do you think has kevin o'connell stumbled in his words and like. physically. because justin jamal jefferson just could not fucking help himselffffff oh my god. what is the fucking matter with him 😭😭 who STARES like that at their coaches.....justin motherfucking jefferson that's who. ko yapping gesturing with his cup like justin isn’t giving him ecchi fuck me eyes you’re definitely stronger than me 😔✊ but really does justin do this shit on purpose or. or...

also ehe i know you asked for hcs but like. would u like more of um. i did a little bit of fic idea of them fake dating once here and am still so enamored by it so:

koc/jj - constantly getting the vibes of ‘he fuckeddd that old mannn’ when i see gifs of those two with jj just being 🥰😘💞🎀💓🌸💖💝🩰🌷 aughguhgh outrageous levels of besotted he’s WORKING he’s GETTING HIS MAN he’s FLIRTING hes using EVERY weapon in his disposal (competency, beauty, babygirlism, etc) you have to respect that shit. stupid fic idea that won’t leave my head is of them getting into a scandal caught by paparazzi romantic ass dinner holding hands and ending the night clubbing close but they really aren’t anything at that time but ahaha you get where I’m going with this right FAKE DATING!!! except this isn’t really feasible bc lets be real a coach dating his player = fired. period. or the player traded to a different team which. WHICH. but theyre both like invaluable to the vikings so they just go ok fake dating have at it (that makes zero sense but whatever). anyway super fun idea can’t lie justin upping his cutesy lovey schtick and koc quietly dying from it. joe legit reaches out like 'ur not being coerced or anything right' while jamarrs like 'get that silver dickkkk' (hes like 39 but whatever) etc etc.

the joemarr double date 😭 can you imagineeeee joe and ja'marr squinting suspiciously at ko smiling serenely at them and justin squinting suspiciously back at the two im crying as i picture this

ko begins just. charming the ever living shit out of them. and ja'marr is somehow the one who can't fucking unbend because. he was all for it at first?? like oh!! justinnn??? coachfucker justin jefferson lmaaoooooo???? no really he was brutal about it justin has to briefly block his number because oh my god 'marr shut the fuck uppppp but then. he actually sees justin with ko and boom. every single protective bone in his body is bricking the fuck uppppp and now justin has to call off attack guard dog ja'marr chase from ripping ko to shreds 😭 joe, who has like. the slightest idea that this might happen is just. going along for the ride at this point, hooking his ankle around ja'marr's under the table to help calm him the fuck down and keep him from lunging across the table and making sure to keep stealing the prawns off ja'marr's plate so ja'marr gets distracted and pissy at him instead of like. interrogating ko on his ancestry and credit scores and history of animal abuse who knows at this point where ja'marr's mind has gone to. justin straight up tries to stand up to strangle ja'marr one time and ko just casually brings up an arm to tug him into his side and justin settles huffily into him and. joemarr gets sharp. their eyes sharpen. zero in on the minuscule space between the two. ja'marr gets quiet. drinks his wine and tucks closer to joe too like. damn okay then fuck. joe chuckles quietly and pinches at his thigh and tells him to let up for fucks sakeeee and the dinner goes smoother finally and ja'marr finallyyyyy laughs at kos jokes 😭👍 needles at him about who's the better receiver just to be annoying and test him out a little if he answers ja'marr he isn't appreciating justin the fuck if he answers justin he doesn't know shit and if he answers neither he’s way too fucking evasive and that’s not good at all the fuck but joe gracefully saves the day by just moving the entire conversation around (throwing peas subtly at justin so he'd shut the fuck up too god why are nearly all his wide receivers like this)

(after the dinner waving goodbye to joemarr driving away in an uber ko bends down to press his forehead to the back of justin's neck and just. heaves out a sigh so heavy like. oh my god. why the fuck is ja'marr chase so intimidating. and justin's laughing at him making his body shake with him saying yeah isn't he the sweetest with the worlds just. fondest fucking voice and kos hugging him from behind feeling so pleased he gets to be accepted by the two boys justin has anchored himself so thoroughly during college and refused to let go to this day auguhughga LSU TRIO MY BELOVEDDDDD 😭)

ko and joe bondingggg aaaaaaa about like. qb stuff 😭 am so shit at football stuff i cannot even expand on this shit LMAOO but like. strategies. plays. cadences. the chiefs dynasty and nfl rules maybe lmao. the state of the nfl commissioners and schedule making and shit rules and penalties and how they can make them better maybe who knows certainly not me 😇 and jjmarr egging them on to say the more foulest shit they usually keep under pr perfect wrap and justin gleefully letting go of his perfect pr image to just shit talkkkk with ja'marr god that's cute the idea he can be freeee with ja'marrrr aaaa

fighting over the check lmao ko pays btw which is. who gets paid more players or coaches. players? i feel like its players. but ko gets sneaky and somehow pays the entire thing. joe, who usually is the sneakiest and pays for shit like this is very impressed. justin behind is like. glittering in smugness. ja'marr is also quietly impressed ofc.

okay so this is more of like. the joemarr double date over the fake dating aspect 😭 i literally have 0 ideas for the fake dating damn youuuu brainnnn workkkkkkkk argrhrgrhrhhrhh

okay. bye....im out 😭

[teddybeartoji]

saw somebody say they've gotten their heart broken because of unfinished series and i died a little inside

[umbral-stigmata-unbound]

He scoffed at the exaggeration and paid it no more mind, still holding the others hand as he looked around. "Hmm, over here. I like these tops, and I prefer deep colors, ya know. Ones that a striking against my vibrant nature, ya know?" he joked, before pointing him towards some good stuff for himself so he could indicate to Reno what more he might prefer.

He already had stuff in mind to look for, of course. He just hoped this place had enough options. He was going to overwhelm Shivan, in the best way, as much as he could without making the other too suspicious.

"I don't care for loose pants, so focus on tight ones, got it?" he advised further. "Jackets are cool, but not always necessary outside'a work."

He lingered a bit longer, to see if Shivan had enough to go on, before he could go hunting on his own.

He couldn't help a snicker, playing along and pulling a bit harder while making a show of it. Until Reno moved suddenly and Shivan felt his balance shift. A small squeak escape him as the movement stopped, pouting as Reno's grinned.

"You almost sent me flying." He announce dramatically- although there was no attempt to move away from Reno's grip. "So you get to watch me try on things first. Only fair- and, you know this place better than I do. So, while you look, you can show me where the good things are."

It was easier to be relaxed in a store like this. Unless it was a gift, Shivan bought second hand. Thrifting was the best money saver he had, so seeing items that he was sure would end up on some rack at his usual shopping spots was comforting. It wasn't a top end designer location, so maybe he could splurge a little more on Reno. He made a silent note to look for some accessories as he stuck his tongue out.

[tekkenenjoyerblue]

Old Streets Fights art time!! Urien and Gill were actually what initially got me into the games fully‼️ The Gill art was from back when there was the whole trend going around of drawing characters in that dress 💀

[localwebslingers]

Leaned back and arms crossed didn't exactly look relaxed but it seemed a lot less on edge than before, Peter was going to take that as some kind of win. It also was so just predictably a thoughtful, thinking position that he had to raise his eyebrow with some amusement, let the smile grow a little amused and fond. It stung a little to see that Harry still wasn't able to relax around him, which was fair and reasonable and Peter understood it, but he wouldn't call the posture subtle. Maybe Osborn approved, but for a moment he half expected it to be exaggerated in some way with the dramatics he'd gotten so used to seeing and hearing. Just to really lean into it.

They didn't happen, of course they wouldn't, they probably wouldn't be back for a while yet.

With the question, both of them, Peter's smile softened a little as he thought about his answer, "You were...pretty private, about it happening. I think most of it was that you worried about how it would go those first few days, if I'd really be okay with it and yeah...yeah I think you worried I might not be safe with you. You kind of gave me an apology warning that you could be a little...let's call it grouchy, at times." he held a hand up and squinted, fingers close together, "little bit." it was a light tease, and Peter lowered his hand again before shaking his head slightly, "But I knew that, and I told you I could handle it. That I wasn't worried and would be okay. If you really were worried about anything more specific then you kept it to yourself, but I had a couple guesses."

It was hard not to, not after the first time Peter had seen just how tense and cautious Harry had been when they were hiding from Kraven. When the identities were admitted into the open and the first real "cards on the table" conversation happened between them. The times in fights or close calls, tense situations passed that, even just bandaging major injuries, Peter had an idea of what he could be in for. It didn't scare him off all the times before, it didn't when he started coming by either.

"Just to be clear, you didn't. Hurt me I mean, or try to. Had a couple bad moods but for the most part it went fine. I knew to give you space when you needed it, what to try and help with and what I could actually do. Really what I did was just try to be there for you, help out how I could or just keep you company so you weren't alone..." Peter chewed his lip and was quiet a moment. Debating. What was better, to rip off the bandage now or to try and address one of the many elephants in the room days, maybe even weeks, later? Because it wasn't just having to get used to him that eventually got Harry to the point of being comfortable saying that Peter could be there, in those first days after the new dose of the serum was taken.

"We're- ....we're dating. Are...were, maybe, I don't really know if you..." if Harry wanted to still call it that, when he didn't remember it, and that made Peter's heart twist in a way it hadn't since he first saw Harry unresponsive in a bed, "I'm sure that sounds...completely believable and trustworthy, maybe, but that's why you said I could stay. You already trusted me, we hadn't been together a full year yet but we'd known each other for a little while before that and I knew how to try and make it easier, when stuff was a lot for you. Try and get you to focus on something that could help you relax. Sometimes I think I was even pretty good at it because it usually worked." he was trying not to get upset, trying not to feel hurt as that twist tightened more, because that wasn't what Harry needed right now. Someone to be upset and make him feel guilty for something completely out of his control.

"...and that's why even if you were worried that I might not be safe with you, I was sure I was. Because you don't scare me, or make me nervous, and if you did become dangerous, for whatever reason, I still would have been okay. I'm tougher than I look and maybe that reassured you...but I never thought I would have to. Not once, and I always told you I wasn't worried about it. You're just...Harry, to me."

|| @inhcritance ||

He knew that not feeling sick was a beginning, and not one to be underestimated: he didn't know what he'd have done, if his mind hadn't answered as it should but his body hadn't either.

Would it be alright, in the end? It was difficult to have hope, for all he knew he had reasons for it. For all he felt more capable, and while most of his memories hadn't come back, not exactly, there was enough that he could start feeling not so much adrift as lost, but with a chance of finding his way properly.

He wasn't sure, however, how much of a way he could hope to find when the mere presence of another human being was so distressing to his feelings. Knowing that Peter had been there for him, however... it was as close to hope as it could be, and while Harry did tell himself it could theoretically be a lie, it didn't feel like one.

For a moment there, he was even tempted to ask him to come in. To imagine what it would mean to have someone else close, maybe to even touch another human being. Touch and be touched and maybe even avoid the overwhelming impulse to harm that he didn't know how to control yet.

But that, he knew, was assuming the instincts, the impulses, were the same. And he couldn't trust on that, not when it could hurt the one person who was managing to make him feel less like something wild kept caged for the sake of everybody else, and more like an actual person.

So he leaned back, in the end, arms crossed loosely as he thought, because he didn't feel comfortable enough to lean forward and rest his chin on his hand, as he'd done so many times... before. Or thought he had.

"You said it happened eventually." He settled for, however. Because a part of him wanted to leave the topic, and stay at a victory, but the rest of him... well, he yearned for more. He needed to know more. "Was it a matter of exposition, of getting used to you... or did something happen?"

He couldn't believe in a magical cheat that would solve everything, but every single little tidbit of information was worth knowing.

"And... were you safe, when you were with me?" Because that was worth knowing, as much as the idea itself hurt.

But it was still a thread to pull on, a tiny sliver of hope, and he was determined to make something of it. Somehow. He just didn't have all the pieces he needed just yet, just the determination to try and collect them.

@localwebslingers

[shrews-studies]

Boy shut up I have a degree and a C1 exam certificate in this language 😭