#and trying to piece it together his entire life | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

doritochoi · 3 days

Text

Fashion trip | K.H

pairing: fem!reader x kim hongjoong!founder of Balmain

warnings: dom!hongjoong, teasing, rough sex, unprotected sex, pet names, eating pussy, + much more

word count: 4.5k

a/n: Hi friends <3 It took me an extremely long time to post this :(( I had it in draft for a while because i had some exams, so i couldn't finish it, but now it's ready. Leave me suggestions for any story ideas in the comments. Love you 🫶🏻🫶🏻

You were a young designer looking for a chance to make your name known in the fashion world. With each creation, you poured your heart into the hope that someone would notice your talent and passion for design. Every morning, you woke up with the same thought: "that long-awaited invitation would soon arrive, opening the door to greater opportunities."

On a normal day, as you lay in your small, cushy bed, you twisted in the covers, trying to push away your thoughts of doubt. Eyes bleary from sleep and heart full of hope, you picked up your phone and started scrolling through your messages and notifications. A new message appeared on the screen, feeling a wave of excitement run through your entire body. You hit the message icon and read with wide eyes and a hopeful heart:

"Hi! We are from the Balmain fashion house! We noticed some of your creations and would like you to work with us. To discuss more, we invite you to "Glamour Lounge" restaurant, next Saturday at 19:00pm"

With your heart pounding in your chest and a mix of emotions, you felt the need to make sure you weren't dreaming. You blinked several times, still looking at your phone screen, but the message remained there, confirming the reality of that incredible invitation to work together. Your smile was hard to erase, immersed in a state of deep awe and gratitude. But beneath this excitement of realizing your professional dream, hides an intimate secret: your adoration for Kim Hongjoong, the founder of Balmain. Handsome and charismatic, he was not only a talented designer but also the subject of your secret adoration. You admire him not only for his amazing creations, but also for his captivating aura and the way he exudes confidence and power in every appearance.

While others are captivated by his glittering creations, you were especially fascinated by every detail of his person- from his charming smile to his penetrating gaze. Even in this moment of professional triumph, you couldn't help but think about him and how collaborating with Balmain might somehow bring you closer to him. You always had a special connection with his creations, especially the "Balmain Uma Sandals", a pair of shoes that you considered not just a piece of footwear, but a work of art in itself. Every step you took in those sandals, you felt like you were entering Kim Hongjoong's world, at least for a while. With each passing second, your emotions were between excitement and anxiety. The big day of the Balmain collaboration was approaching, and you were extremely excited about the opportunity to showcase your creativity and passion face-to-face with the fashion house's prestigious team. However, you dreamed of meeting him, even for a moment, to express your gratitude for his influence in your life and to share your passion for his creations.

You prepared for the meeting, and chose your outfit carefully. A velvet dress that undulated your body in a delicate dance, hugging your shape and accentuating your grace in a subtle yet charming way. Step by step, you walked towards the door, and every eye that fell on you was captivated by your elegance and sophistication. A lovely lady approaches you with a warm smile and says politely: "Please follow me, this is our reserved table. Mr. Kim will be right there, he had a problem, but I assure you he will be here soon.", What did she say? Kim Hongjoong it will be there..? What are you going to do? What are you going to say?Questions invade your mind, leaving you without answers and without direction. You try to regain your composure, taking deep breaths and trying to remember that this is the moment you've been waiting for.

As you awaited on the chair, a figure loomed in the distance, entering through the restaurant's massive door. It was him, Kim Hongjoong in all his glory, dressed in a flawless black suit. You couldn't help but notice how perfectly it matched your outfit, almost like you were a couple. His blond hair, styled with care and precision, added an extra touch of elegance and sophistication to his already impressive appearance. Your expert eye for detail couldn't help but notice the fragrance that seemed to accompany it, giving off a subtle and irresistible aroma. The same lady also led him to the table, this time sitting across from you. He looked charming in his impeccable suit. After the lady leaved, he got up from the table and came over to you, gracefully bending down and kissing your hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you", he had told you in such a charming voice that it was as if all worries and uncertainties melted away in front of that warm and comforting presence. You were extremely shy, unable to say anything or look at him, but he was noticing the way you were acting and how you were making efforts to maintain eye contact. He liked the way you were sitting and with a warm smile, he began to cough, breaking the silence. "Do you want anything to drink?" His question broke the interruption and brought a touch of normalcy to the atmosphere. “Something refreshing would be perfect, thanks”, you managed to reply, your voice a little shaky, but still full of gratitude. Even in this moment of anxiety, you couldn't help but notice how polite and kind he was. After getting the drinks, the atmosphere became more relaxed. “Hmm, I'd be curious to see some of your creations,” he said, looking at you with interest. With a shaky voice and heart pounding in your chest, you pulled some sketches and photos of your latest designs out of your bag. You could feel your hands shaking as you held them out for him. Hongjoong took each creation in his hands, examining them carefully. After a few moments of silence, he looked up at you and smiled. "I have never seen anyone with such remarkable talent as yours," he said sincerely. "Your creativity and passion can be found in every detail. You are truly remarkable.”. "It would be very nice to work for us,” he said with a warm smile. You were speechless, unable to believe what you were hearing. What? Working for Balmain? This was far beyond any dream you could have had. Your eyes were shining with gratitude and happiness, you managed to regain some control over your emotions and express your gratitude: "It is an incredible honor. I am extremely excited and honored to be part of the Balmain team. Thank you for this amazing opportunity.”

As the conversations flowed naturally, you couldn't help but notice the subtle details that caught your attention. The veins on Hongjoong's hand, outlined under the skin, looked so sexy… You could imagine how his fingers could do much more than just hold that glass in his hand. Time was passing and the evening was getting longer. Just as you decided it was time to leave, you realized a heavy storm had broken out outside. The rain prevented any attempt to get outside, and if you did, you would have been completely drenched. Walking out of the restaurant and facing the rain, you let out a disappointed sigh and started looking for a taxi on your phone. But before you could do anything, you felt a hand on your tiny waist and then someone placed an umbrella over your head. It was him..Kim Hongjoong was holding your waist and staying so close to you. "Would you like me to drive you? It would be more comfortable for you, especially in this storm.”, with your heart pounding and a slightly shy smile, you replied, “Yes, I would really appreciate it. Thank you, Hongjoong.” Looking at him, you were overwhelmed by his gallant gesture and the care he showed towards you on this unpredictable evening. As you sat comfortably in his car, eyes fixed on the wet and cloudy road, you couldn't help but feel a bit excited, the fact that you were there with Hongjoong, watching him drive. It was like a dream come true. But in the midst of these thoughts, you realized that your home was quite far away, and taking you there in this storm didn't seem very reasonable. In a moment of hesitation, you started to tell him that he shouldn't bother you so much, but he quickly intervened. "You can come to my house," he proposed with a gentle smile. "It's much closer and wouldn't be a problem at all." You were speechless at his suggestion. To stay at Hongjoong's house? This idea seemed unreal, almost too good to be true. However, you tried to push yourself away from the bold thought, politely declining. “I can't bother you like this,” you said quickly, trying to justify your refusal. "I'm sure it's not a good idea." But he gently insisted: "It's not a problem for me at all. I would be honored to have you as a guest. Please accept.”, you were looking down and fiddling with your fingers, still feeling unsure about this unexpected situation. He took your hand in his, making you look up at him slightly. His eyes bore into you with a comforting warmth, admiring every feature of your face. “Everything will be fine,” he said gently, with a warm smile that brought you peace and confidence. Feeling the warmth of his hand and looking into his eyes, you felt like you could put your fears to rest and let yourself be carried away. You confidently accepted that everything was going to be fine.

When you got to his house and looked out the window, you were amazed at the beauty of his house. It was an imposing residence with elegant architecture and huge garden. You couldn't help but notice the luxury and wealth that emanated from every detail of his home. You felt like you had invaded his personal space, and the thought made you feel uncomfortable and insecure. You managed to erase the negative thoughts from your mind and entered his house. It was perfect in every aspect, every detail of the furniture seemed to be chosen especially for him. You admired with awe and slight envy the elegance and sophistication, wondering what it would be like to live in such a luxurious environment every day. With a gentle gesture, Hongjoong took your hand and gave you a warm smile. "You can stay in the guest room. Call me if you need anything!", he said kindly, pointing the way to it. You replied with a grateful smile and a slight tilt of your head, "Thank you, Hongjoong."

You entered in the guest room and flopped onto the bed, closing your eyes. You silently let out all the joy and excitement you were feeling, squealing slightly in happiness as a smile crept up your face. It was an incredible experience to be there in Hongjoong's house but you knew you had to keep a certain distance. You wanted to be close to him, get to know him better and spend time together, but you knew you had to be reserved and not reveal too much of your feelings. Even though you were trying to fall asleep, your thoughts were still captured by Hongjoong's figure. You couldn't get the image of him standing there in that perfect suit with irresistible elegance out of your mind. You wanted so badly to take off his tie and kiss the soft skin of his neck, leaving small tender marks. In the morning, you woke up with a big smile on your face. Thinking about what you dreamed last night, its making you blushing. You were in Hongjoong's bed and he was fucking you, making you to scream his name louder. His every touch, every kiss, every gesture seemed to be filled with tenderness and love, and your desire to be real was overwhelming.

You got out of bed, attracted by an inviting smell that filled the house. Without thinking too much, you followed that delicious aroma into the kitchen. When you got there, you discovered some freshly made pancakes on the table. You looked at the pancakes and bent down slightly to examine them better, noting their perfectly round shape and matching color. You were impressed with the way they looked. Returning to your starting position, you suddenly felt something hard hit your back. You immediately turned around to see Hongjoong in front of you, dressed only in a robe. Drops of water dripped down his well-sculpted chest, a sign that he had just stepped out of the shower. His wet hair accentuated his beauty, giving him a cool and vibrant air. You were trying not to look down, to stay calm, but you weren't doing very well, and he could tell that. Your expression betrayed a slight uneasiness and he noticed every detail. He leaned in, noticing that you were a little agitated, which showed in your eyes."Did I scare you?", you felt that he was very close to you and the desire to touch him and get closer to him was strong. You wanted to push him down on the table and get closer, kiss him all over to show him how much you wanted him. Still, you knew you had to keep distance.He wasn't just anyone, and you had to respect the boundaries.

You nodded that you weren't scared, but he didn't seem pleased with your answer. “Words, princess,” he said in a firm tone, making you blush at the nickname. He loved teasing you and you could see it on his face. His subtle smile and twinkle in his eye showed that he was having fun teasing you and enjoying your reactions. It was obvious that he was comfortable around you and enjoying your company. His provocation accentuated the butterflies in your stomach and amplified the erotic tension between you. "N-no you didnt scare me... actually i wanted to thank you for everything..." ,you said awkwardly, looking down and avoiding his beautiful eyes that captivated you. He showed his determination, smiling slightly as he spoke, “I already told you not to thank me… there's no need. Eat something so I can take you home.” You hesitated to accept the offer to take you home again, not wanting to seem too rude. "Okay, then be ready tomorrow. We're going to Paris for a fashion show,” he added, looking at you with a determined expression and anticipating the next day full of excitement and opportunity.

Leaving his house, you thought about what will happen tomorrow. It will be a long day and full of many surprises. You were going to a fashion show with your fucking crush and no you weren't dreaming. You didn't even get to ask him how long you were staying there or how you should dress...You felt terrible, feeling like you weren't ready for this important moment. You arrived home and eagerly waited for the time to pass faster until tomorrow.

You woke up in the morning and carefully went to do your usual routine. Then, you started choosing what to wear for this special day. You chose a cute pink mini dress with delicate flowers that accentuated your beautiful smile and positive energy. You put on light make-up, emphasizing the sparkle of your eyes and the fresh look of your skin. After you finished getting ready, you took a cab and headed to the airport. There, you spotted Hongjoong, waiting for you with a bright smile. Your gaze lit up when you saw his familiar figure and the emotions within you rose in a pleasant way.Each step towards him, you could feel the excitement and impatience growing. You had in front of you a day you had been waiting for a long time, with the person you admire so much. The flight was quite normal. You have arrived in Paris and went to the hotel. It was an extremely elegant and luxurious location, which was no surprise considering Hongjoong's financial status. He had chosen one of the most popular and exclusive hotels in town. The hotel was impressive, with a sophisticated atmosphere and great design. It was equipped with a huge swimming pool and other luxurious facilities, giving you a memorable and relaxing experience.

As you arrived at the fancy hotel, reality was starting to hit you. You found out that the fashion show you were going to attend, was taking place there. Even though it was an incredible opportunity, you felt a slight anxiety. You weren't used to being in the middle of large crowds of people and the thought of attending such an important event made you feel a little scared. The crowd began to gather and the guests took their seats to wait for the fashion show to begin. You were there but with your mind elsewhere, only thinking about Hongjoong. Feeling bored and wanting to have some fun, you headed to the nearby bar. You chose the most popular drink there, an exotic cocktail called "Parisian Dream", an elegant drink that was a favorite of many in that select location. Returning to your seat, your eyes were drawn to the immense beauty of the pool nearby. It was an impressive pool with matching colors of red and gold that exuded elegance and luxury. You really wanted to relax and cool off, so without thinking too much, you decided to get into the pool. Luck was on your side as you were wearing a bathing suit under your gorgeous dress just in case. You took off your delicate dress and walked down the steps to the crystal clear water, feeling how the water envelops your body. As you let yourself be carried away by the relaxing sensations of the water, you felt a slight movement nearby. At first you didn't give it any importance, but you became aware that someone was now in front of you. You slowly opened your eyes and were shocked, standing frozen there. It was Hongjoong, standing extremely close to you. It was so close that your bodies were a step away from touching. Looking at him, you were mesmerized by his flawless appearance. The drops of water were sliding down the chest that you admired for a long time. The whole scene seemed unreal but fascinating at the same time. With a light movement, Hongjoong moved his hand to your cheek and began to caress you gently. His palms ran over your skin with a soft and tender touch. "If you wanted to relax you could tell me…" ,he said in a warm deep voice. “N-no… I was just drawn to the way the pool looks…” ,you started to stutter, heart pounding in your chest. You could easily read the amused smile on Hongjoong's face and that made you feel even more embarrassed. "Are you sure only the pool?", he pulled you even closer as his hands settled on your hips. His breath was warm as he murmurs into your ear "Stop lying, princess". His grip was firm yet gentle. The mixture of emotions made your head spin as he gently turned your body around, leaving your back exposed to him. "I know that you want me" ,he moves his hand down slowly, letting his finger lightly brush against your panties and gently rubbing in, causing you to feel things you have never felt before. Your body trembles and shivers with excitement as he continues, slowly teasing you. His touch is light but firm, creating a mixture of sensations that leave you breathlessly helpless in his grip. His voice is breathy and full of desire as he slowly starts roaming his hands all over your body, gently exploring every inch of you. He gently kisses your neck, sending a shivers through your spine. "We should go somewhere else..." he breaths again, this time slightly louder. "Let's continue this in a different place...somewhere more private..."

He slowly takes you into his room at the hotel. There is a slight hint of excitement in his eyes as he closes the door with his leg, slowly sliding you onto the bed "Fuck, you feel so good," he muttered, lips finding their way to your exposed neck and placing wet kisses onto your sensitive flesh. You moaned involuntarily as a wave of pleasure washed over you, igniting a fire deep within. He continued to caress your body, his hands roaming over your bra and down around your waist, squeezing your firm ass and pulling you closer still. You could feel the hardness of his cock straining against his pants, pressing against your stomach. With a flick of his fingers, he unclipped your bra and let it slide off, allowing your heavy breasts to spill free. He took one nipple into his mouth and sucked hard, causing you to gasp and moan with pleasure. His hands continued to wander, one coming up to squeeze your other breast while the other slid down your body, finding its way to the aching wetness between your thighs. You let out a low moan as his fingers grazed your clit through the wet fabric of your panties. He continued to tease your clit with his fingers until you were panting with need, begging for more. With a wicked grin, he slipped his fingers beneath your panties and plunged them deep inside your wet, aching core. You cried out in pleasure, arching your back as he began to thrust his fingers in and out of you. "You like that, don't you?" he growled, his voice low and husky with lust. "Yes, fuck yes," you panted, your hips grinding against his fingers as he plunged them deep inside of you. You could feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge, the tension building in your core, until you thought you might explode from the pleasure. But just as you were about to reach your climax, Hongjoong pulled his fingers out of you, leaving you panting and whining in frustration. "Not yet, my little slut," he smirked, standing up and towering over you. His eyes were dark and filled with desire as he took in the sight of your naked and aching body. "You don't get to come until I'm inside you.", you whimpered in frustration, watching as he slowly unbuttoned his pants and let them drop to the floor. His hard cock sprang free, already slick with pre-cum. You licked your lips at the sight, eager to taste him. "Beg for it," he commanded in a low and commanding voice. You looked up at him with pleading eyes. "Please, Hongjoong. I need you inside me. I can't wait any longer.", he smirked, his eyes glinting with satisfaction at your desperation. "Beg for it," he repeated, emphasizing each word. "Please, fuck me. I need you so badly, I'll do anything. Just please, give me your cock," you moaned, spreading your legs wider in invitation. With a growl, he stepped closer, positioning his cock at your entrance. You whimpered in anticipation, your hips bucking up in a desperate attempt to take him inside of you. But he had other plans. Instead of plunging into you, he teased your entrance, rubbing the tip of his cock against your clit and causing you to gasp with pleasure. "You want it that badly?" he taunted, a wicked gleam in his eyes as he continued to torment you. Finally, Hongjoong couldn't resist your pleading any longer.

With one thrust, he buried his cock deep inside of you, filling you completely. You both let out a low moan as he began to move, his hips thrusting against you with a primal force. The sound of your bodies slapping together echoed through the room, punctuated by your moans and swear words, as he fucked you senseless. The headboard banged against the wall, adding a rhythmic pulse to the room. Hongjoong's thrusts became more forceful, his hips snapping against yours as he took you with wild abandon. You clung to him, your nails digging into his shoulders. "Fuck, you feel so goddamn good," he muttered, his dirty words setting off a fire of dirty thoughts in your mind. He quickened his pace, slamming into you over and over again. You threw your head back and let out a loud moan, your body trembling with pleasure. The feeling of him deep inside of you was almost too much to bear, but you didn't want it to end. As you moved together in perfect rhythm, your bodies slick with sweat, you could feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge. You could tell he was too - his thrusts became more ragged, his breath hot and heavy against your neck. "Come for me, Y/n," he whispers in your ear, his breath hot on your skin. You let out a loud moan as you come, your body shaking with pleasure. Hongjoong follows shortly after, emptying himself inside you with a loud groan. He collapses on top of you, his breathing heavy. He kisses you softly, his lips lingering on yours. "That was amazing, princess" ,you smile, feeling a sense of satisfaction wash over you. "It was, Joong," you reply, your fingers tracing patterns on his back. He begins to clean you up, his fingers gentle as they trace your folds. "You're so beautiful," he whispers, his lips brushing against your ear. He pulls you into a tight embrace, his arms wrapping around you. "I don't want this moment to end," he says, his voice filled with love and care. "Neither do I, " you reply, your head resting on his chest. And as you drift off to sleep, wrapped in each other's arms, you can't help but feel like this is the start of something beautiful.

~ THE END ~

---------------------------------------------------------------------

#ateez #ateez scenarios #ateez smut #ateez imagine #kim hongjoong #hongjoong smut #hongjoong

189 notes · View notes

cranberrv · 20 hours

Text

enchanted

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ in which dallas winston falls for the new girl

( a/n : i love this request sm!! reader is fem by the way, also not proofread also ooc! still cute tho! )

not many people wanted to move to tulsa, but for some people, it was their only option. that was the first similarity spotted between you and dallas.

of course, you and dallas were on different sides of the track, different chapters in a novel. you moved to tulsa for your fathers work, you were perfectly happy back at your old city, but you didn’t have a choice. dallas moved to tulsa to escape from the new york police.

you thought tulsa was bland. it was only your first week here, your first week emerced with all the other teenagers at school, but everyone here was grey. especially the east-side kids, the greasers. they were all broke and it looked like all the life was sucked out of them.

you, on the other hand, were fresh from los angeles, with a feminine flare to yourself and a genuine kindness that was rare in tulsa. even the rich kids were rude, but you were anything but.

it was the start of your second week of school, and your least favourite class was science. not because of the subject, it was just that the people in your class gave you dirty looks and the teacher had a voice that could put you to sleep. and your lab partner in the seat next to you had been away the entire time, leaving you to do projects alone.

today was supposed to be the exact same as usual. at the start of class, you walk in and sit down alone. the teacher does the attendance, and marks your mystery lab partner absent. today is independent work, finishing up a lab report and then doing a worksheet on protons and electrons. you want to fall asleep, it’s so boring. you’re listening to every silent conversation and looking out the window for a source of entertainment. you got your wish soon enough, as the door creaks open.

“hello,” your teacher greets to the boy that enters the room. “you are?”

“dallas winston,” he answers, throwing his burnt-out cigarette in the trash.

your teacher nods her head. “ah, you’re dallas winston,” the voice is slow as she pieces it together. you wonder why the words are said in such distaste.

you’ve given up on your work, watching dallas winston. he looks like an east-side kid, his hair is a bit messy and he radiates confidence. he certainly puts out an energy unlike anyone in this school.

they talk for a bit longer, the teacher obviously telling him it’s not okay to skip class. dallas tries to argue back for a little bit, but eventually gives up and holds his hands up in mock-surrender. the teacher takes a breath then points to you, giving him a worksheet and telling him to go sit next to you. he follows the teachers finger, and he tilts his head when he looks at you, trying to figure out if he knows you or not. his eyes light up a bit when you make eye contact with him. you like the way he looks at you.

dallas walks over, and sits next to you. there’s a few moments of silence as he gets himself settled. spitting out his gum, taking off his leather jacket, and finally landing his eyes on his sheet. he reads over the questions, and realizes has no idea how to do any of this. “you got a pencil?” he asks you.

“yeah, in my pencil case, help yourself,” you answer, and he grabs your pencil case and sifts through it to find one.

he takes one out and hands it back. you say thank you, and he thinks it was unnecessary to be polite about a simple thing but doesn’t say anything. “mechanical, huh?” he says about the pencil, pushing on the bottom to get the lead out. “expensive. what, you a soc or somethin’?”

you look from your worksheet up at him. he has a nice jawline, you notice. “a what?” you ask. an innocent question in your eyes, but one that has a lot more meaning for dallas.

who the hell doesn’t know what a soc is? he stares at you for a second, eyebrows furrowing. not out of annoyance, but out of genuine confusion about why you don’t know about the class-status that built up the entire reputation of tulsa. you know what a greaser is, but not a soc. and you barely know what a greaser is, anyway. you’ve just been told to stay away.

“you know, a rich-kid. a west-side kid.” you still look confused, and he comes to the conclusion that you’re not from here. so when he notices the confused look in your eye, he changes the subject. “where ya from, sugar?”

“i just moved from los angeles,” you tell him. his eyes drift down to your cute lace pink top. he thinks it’s totally something that someone from LA would wear. there’s a speck of silence as he analyzes you, and you feel the need to break it.

“i shoulda guessed,” he says with a raise of his eyebrows. you don’t know if he’s being mean or not. you hope he’s not mean.

“what do you mean?”

“i mean you look like you’re from hollywood or somethin’, with all the lace and the flashy bows and shit..” he’s poking at the lace lining your top. you can see him thinking about something while he’s looking at your lace. “christ, your lingerie collection must be insane, huh?”

there’s a blink of silence and a look of slight disbelief on your face. “what?”

“i’m messin’ with ya, sweetheart,” he chuckles.

“oh,” you say softly, cheeks going a bit hot.

“so,” he starts, switching the topic to a different note. “why’d ya move to fuckin’ tulsa?”

“my dad got a job here,” you explain, fiddling with your pencil in your hands. “why?”

“just curious,” he shrugs. “you know, most people don’t move to this hellhole.”

“you did,” you say, and he tilts his head. you think he’s looking at you because you’re just assuming things, and you’re probably wrong, so he’s judging you. “did you not?”

he cracks a smile. he wasn’t judging you, simply curious as to how you guessed he wasn’t from here. “yeah, i did, sugar,” he nods, leaning back in his seat. “how’d ya know?”

“your accent,” you explain. “very new yorker.”

“yeah? you like it?”

you mirror his smile. “yeah, i do.”

the class falls silent as the teacher insists everyone quiets down and focuses. dally's voice drops to a whisper when he responds, playfully pushing you away. “alright, miss hollywood, go do your work,” he teases. “gonna tell the teacher you’re distracting me,” he threatens, obviously playing around because he knows that he’s the one distracting you.

you smile and turn your head back to your sheet to finish it up. you begin peacefully working. dallas can’t help but stare at you as you do so. nibbling at your pencil while you’re thinking, constantly adjusting your top, brushing your hair out of your face every now and then, he notices it all. he can’t help it, he thinks you’re the sweetest person he’s ever seen.

you look up at him, feeling his intense gaze on you. you make eye contact and instantly turn away again, cheeks going pink like a tulip. why is he looking at you? do you have something on your face? you don’t know. you subconsiously wipe your cheek to make sure, and adjust your top again.

dallas finally looks away, and you take a breath and relax your shoulders. as much as he was acting sweet towards you, you could tell he had this rough edge that you should be worried about. but what truly worried you is the fact that his edge didn’t worry you. if anything, it lured you in. you wanted to learn everything about him. he was like the ocean, he was calm and beautiful but you had to swim out far and dive deep down to find out everything about him. and it felt like no one had, yet. he was a mystery. you liked that.

as you’re working, you hear the rip of lined paper beside you, then the scratch of a pencil. a few moments later, dallas hands you a piece of paper with a note on it.

“how do you do question 1?“ it reads.

you read the note and look up at him, smiling. you write down your answer, saying that he needs a calculator. you hand him yours, assuming correctly that he doesn’t own one.

he slides you another note a few seconds later. “it keeps saying weird shit on the calculator”

“what does it say?” you write back.

he takes longer than usual to write. you wait in anticipation. after what feels like forever (but was probably 15 seconds) he hands you another note. you read the numbers. you don’t understand how he got that answer. you read over it again, and then it clicks. it’s his phone number.

he’s looking at you as you read it. you look up at him and gently nod, putting his number in your pocket. you rip another piece of paper and write down, “i’ll call you.”

he reads it and writes back, and is about to hand it to you, until he quickly takes it back and adds something. then he hands it to you.

“good. (p.s. your little lace top is kinda cute)”

you read his little p.s. and smile to yourself, then to him. you mouth thank you to him. he mouths “anytime” back.

you have a feeling this won’t be the last time you and dallas winston say hello to each other in science class.

#the outsiders #dallas winston #dally winston #dallas #dallas winston imagine #dallas winston headcanons #dallas winston x reader #dallas winston fluff #dally winston fluff

71 notes · View notes

lemoncherrypop · 2 days

Text

To Build a Home

seventeen x harry potter au

deatheater!seungcheol x gryffindorprincess!reader summary: The war has finally come and your entire world falls into ruin. After a surprise attack from the Death Eaters, you barely escape with your life and find refuge in a faraway safe house. Everything would have been fine, all things considered, except for the fact that you had fallen right into the snake’s pit. notes: hello :'))) i am back from the dead. i can not apologize enough for the three year hiatus. i went through some family stuff, some mental breakdowns, and also just life in general made me not want to write anymore. but all the messages and comments I've gotten throughout the years have been so heart warming and touching. your words of support have genuinely made me want to get back into this again, so thank you thank you thank you. all your likes, comments and shares really kept me going, sometimes I felt like I was writing into the void, but knowing that others read and enjoyed my story was a very validating and heartwarming feeling. again, I am SOOO sorry for the extremely late update, but if you are still around, I hope you will enjoy this next chapter! i love you all <3 P.S if you prefer AO3 viewing, it will be linked in my Series Masterlist :) word count: 4.3k

Series Masterlist

One l Two l Three l Four l Five l coming soon...

Chapter Five

The bed is warm when you wake up, but you can not move.

“If you try to get up, I will incarcerous your ass.”

The air smells bitter and burnt, and it makes you want to gag at how strong it weighs in the air. Blinking past the candlelights, you find Jean sitting in a chair next to your bed.

Groaning, you try and curl your fingers, but you find yourself unable to. Not even needing to look down, you could feel the thick bandages wrapped around your whole chest and the entire length of your left arm.

“Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t,” you grumble, voice feeling raw and dry in your throat. “What the fuck did you do to me?”

“What did I do to you?”

“I can’t fucking move!”

“I bloody well put you back together in one piece!” Jean snapped and you can’t remember the last time you’ve seen so much anger in your friend’s eyes. “You nearly got yourself killed, and you’re complaining about a couple of bandages?!”

“A couple is enough to render me completely useless?!”

“You’re not useless.” Jean rolls her eyes. “You’re just forced into recuperation.”

“Well, it’d be fucking nice if I could at least scratch my nose.” You scrunch your nose unpleasantly.

“Your right arm still works, you know.”

“Oh.” You blink. “Right.”

Jean sighs deeply and goes back to focusing on something on your night table. Feeling awkward, you stretch out your right arm the best you can and reach up to scratch the itch on the bridge of your nose.

“What’s that?” You point at the stack of small withered leather pouches and tiny vials of potions.

She lets out a grunt of frustration. “It’s your medicine. You lost so much blood, I thought you turned into a bloody ghost.”

“Well, blame that on—”

“It’s both of your faults,” Jean cuts you off with a sharp glare. “Don’t go blaming Seungcheol when you put him in an equally bad position.”

You can’t help but smirk at the news. “He strapped down onto his bed just like me?”

Glass bottles click and clatter as Jean slams down your medicine. “Wake up! This was all meant for training, not to cut each other’s throats and bleed each other dry.”

Rolling your eyes, you turn away to avoid her glare. “Did you give him the same lecture?”

“I’m serious, can’t you just listen to me?”

“It’d be nice to not, but I don’t think I have a choice.”

She scoffs. “We’re not at school anymore. There’s no more petty house rivalry, no house points to fight over, or exams to stress over. We’re on the same side of the war, we can’t keep fighting with the boys.”

“Don’t be a fool.” You snap back at her with furrowed brows. “You want me to trust these boys? Thought you were supposed to be the smart one—”

A click— the door opens and Wonwoo walks in as if he were coming in like routine.

“Ah,” he says in quiet surprise. “You’re up?”

A brow quirks. “What are you doing in my room?”

Jean clicks her tongue and goes back to refilling your medication.

He holds up an amber glass bottle. “To heal you back into a functioning human.”

You place your good arm under the back of your head and prop yourself up a little to get a better view of your two housemates.

“Jean’s already got my medicine here.” You nod over to the glass vials on your night table.

“Yes, but this one—” Wonwoo holds it closer to your face, the clear glass has no label but contains a sticky, thick liquid. “—is for those cuts that Seungcheol gave you.”

“Of course,” you groan, rolling your eyes. “Even the cuts he gave me aren’t ordinary. I need a special potion just for that?”

Wonwoo takes a seat at the end of your bed. “You lost a lot of blood.”

“A lot.” Jean glowers.

“Stop worrying,” you chide. “I feel fine!” You cough, embarrassingly, your throat still raw and dry.

“Fine my fucking arse,” Jean curses, and you know she’s truly mad because when was the last time your friend has ever cursed? “Fine isn’t being completely incapacitated for days. I had no idea when you would even wake up.”

“Wait a sec—” Your forehead wrinkles as your face contorts into confusion. “How long have I been out?”

“Only three days,” Wonwoo sighs, and uncorks the bottle in his hand. “He’s just as immobile as you, thought you’d be interested to know.”

“That is good to know.” You can’t help the grin spreading on your face. Jean’s scowl only deepens.

A cup is conjured out of thin air, and Wonwoo pours some of the amber liquid into it. “This is going to be hard to swallow, but drink the whole thing, okay?” He hands you the cup.

It looks even darker in the cup and moves like molasses. “And what is this supposed to help with? All the blood that I lost?”

“It’s to make sure your wounds heal completely,” Jeans explains. “Unfortunately… you won’t be able to get rid of the scars, but at least they’ll be completely closed.”

“That spell he used on you…” Wonwoo says quietly, his face looking serious as he tries to word it properly in his head before saying it out loud. “It’s— it’s not a spell to take lightly. Obviously, it would have been best to use the counterspell right after you got hit, but you continued fighting—”

“Absolute blockheads, the both of you!”

“— and the lacerations only went deeper and deeper as they spread. It’ll take a few days of rest before you’re fully healed, but just hold your nose when you take the potion because it—”

“Tastes like fucking shit!” You gag.

“— tastes pretty awful…”

Mandatory bed rest for the rest of the week.

Those were the orders from apparently everyone else in the house. Sneaking out was not an option because there was a spell that made the entire house ring when you tried to sneak out. It was equally both embarrassing and frustrating, seeing as how you couldn’t even take a piss without having Jean come over to help you over to the bathroom.

The only good thing about being imprisoned inside your own room was Wonwoo’s cup of tea.

He brought you a cup of tea every morning. Earl grey. Always piping hot, and with just enough cream and sugar to make anyone else’s tongue curl from the sweetness.

It was the perfect cup of tea.

The damn snake was slowly creeping his way up your ladder that goes from enemies to acquaintances to just barely being friends. He was still low on the ladder though, just marginally above the other snakes.

But the cup of tea did nothing to make you feel any better. Any less useless.

The wounds have healed completely when you finished up the rest of the amber liquid, and the bandages were finally all released with permission from Wonwoo and Jean, but no one allowed you back into another round of dueling. Not yet at least. They all said it's because you needed more time to get better, but you knew it was because they all thought you weren’t mentally stable enough to go back.

“You almost died!” You remember wincing in pain when Jean readjusted your bandages.

No matter how many times you insisted that you were feeling better and thinking more clearly, she stayed firm in her decision.

“Not. Yet.”

You can only hope that the same was happening to Seungcheol.

Minghao sips on his glass and the candlelight illuminates the grimace on his face. “This is not what I meant when I said they wouldn’t be able to keep their hands off each other.”

“I was hoping they’d just fuck each other’s brains out,” Mingyu shrugs. “But I guess this is another way of them taking their anger out on each other.”

“How could you joke like that when they both nearly died?” Trinh scowls, smacking the back of his head for the comment.

“Hey!” Mingyu rubs his head with a groan. “You think I wanted that to happen? I nearly shit myself when I saw the amount of blood in here!” He shudders dramatically. “But they’re both healed now, yeah?”

“Doesn’t make the situation any better.” Trinh tiredly rubs her eyes. “We can never pair them up again for training. I refuse to clean up that much blood again.”

“The reality is,” Minghao sighs, reaching over to pet her hair. “They fucking hate each other. I’m sure they’ll find another excuse to get into another bloody fight.”

“As much as I hated the fight as well, I can’t say that I’m not surprised.” Mingyu sighs. “This was a fight years in the making. We put those two together without any supervision of the professors, and what did we expect? Sunshine and chocolate frogs?”

“Their fighting in Hogwarts was child’s play compared to this,” Trinh groans, looking more tired by the second.

She shifts in her chair just enough for her to lean her head on Minghao’s shoulder, and he suddenly laughs. “Remember that time he spiked her ale with some babbling beverage right before potions class?”

A light chuckle comes from Mingyu. “Or that time she used locomotor mortis right before he leaned in for his first kiss with that Gryffindor girl and he fell right into her breasts?”

Minghao throws his head back with a loud snort. “Then there was that brilliant prank where he charmed her quill to write everything backwards during our O.W.L.S!”

“See? I’m telling you, they just need to fuck.” Mingyu lays his finger on the table to make his point. “They’ve already beat each other bloody.”

Minghao’s laughter slowly fades until his smile is no more, and reaches for his glass again. “Yeah, but he’s not the same boy as before.” He takes a final swig and downs the whole drink. “He’s changed.”

“We’ve all changed.”

Their heads all snap up to see Wonwoo standing at the end of their table. Minghao grimaces, and all traces of laughter have disappeared from his face. Looking forlornly into his half-empty glass, Mingyu stays silent as well.

“Done drinking for tonight?” He asks the trio, looking just as solemn as his crew of snakes.

Trinh throws her head back to finish hers and slams it back on the table. “Now I am.”

Mingyu holds up an empty glass for Wonwoo in offerance. “How are they doing? Still, being stubborn?

Wonwoo declines with a shake of his head and sits down to join them. “I don’t know what I expected from either of them,” he sighs. “She’s still fighting tooth and nail to get out of the room, and Seungcheol’s… well, you know how he gets when he’s moody.”

“Got the temper of a five-year-old.” Trinh shakes her head.

“But thankfully the medications are working well,” Wonwoo continues. “Wounds are pretty much all healed. I still think they need more time to mentally recover from their fight.”

“I’ve got high hopes for the Princess, but Seungcheol? Like that stubborn dickhead has any space in his thick skull to even comprehend how to do that.”

“Mingyu.” Wonwoo places a firm grip on his shoulder. “We’ve got to do something. He can’t keep going on like this, he’s only going to get worse.”

“Well, what do you suggest then?” Mingyu snaps. “Like he’ll listen to any of us.

Minghao’s expression is grim. “I’m afraid the only way he’ll get any better is if he is dead, my friend.”

Days and weeks flew by in the cottage and the house was slowly coming into action once again. Mingyu and Jean were still flirting around in every room, Trinh could be found giggling away with Minghao whilst pretending to not care about anyone else.

And yet, you haven’t exchanged a single word with Seungcheol. It was harder than you expected, pretending like someone doesn’t exist under the same roof as you, but you were determined to see past him like a ghost. Unsurprisingly, he had shown you the same courtesy. Seungcheol even ate his meals alone in his room or in the room down in the basement.

Walking around the house post near-death-fight was an even bigger pain than before. There was an unspoken mutual agreement between the two of you, and that was to be completely oblivious to each other’s existence. Although the entire household was pushing for the both of you to make amends, it was clear that they have all underestimated both your stubbornness. You bet you could go months, maybe even years, pretending like Seungcheol didn’t exist within the same home as you.

While the lack of contact with the miserable imp was nice, the tension still weighed heavy in the air, and you knew it was beginning to suffocate the others as well. But as much as you felt bad for your housemates, they were the ones who forced you into this whole situation in the first place.

And so, he continued to act as if you were nothing but an echo in the hallways. He didn’t even sneer or frown, or show any physical signs of threats or discomfort. He simply acted as if you didn’t exist.

And you were fine with that.

Until, well, everyone else wasn’t.

The night hung heavy, and the moon cast a haunting glow on the house as you readied for sleep. You were seconds away from slipping under your covers when a timid knock echoed from your door. Wearily, you trudged over to answer, revealing a Wonwoo poised to knock again.

“Wonwoo?”

“Hi.”

“Can I help you?”

Wonwoo’s arms fall to his sides, his body rigid and expression wavering with hesitance. It was clear from his eyes that he was unsure of his presence at your door, especially at this late hour.

The past few weeks have admittedly been easier with the help of Wonwoo’s presence. He took care of you in little ways that you did not expect. He brought medicine with a cup of hot tea on the side for you every day. He would accompany you in silent book readings in the common room, discreetly sitting across from you in your favorite armchair to keep you company. And whenever you felt yourself about to be overcome with anxiety, somehow, almost miraculously, Wonwoo would appear to chase that sinking feeling of fear in your chest away.

Most times, he would ask if you’d like to accompany him in some tasks, like baking muffins for breakfast the next day, or flying on the broomsticks to help clean up the roof, or even picking flowers outside to make bouquets around the cottage.

Other times, he would make you a cup of tea and simply just sit by your side. He would make small talk if you felt like talking, but if you didn’t, he would just sit in silence with you. Sometimes, you would sit in silence for so long that your tea would grow cold, but by the time you noticed, Wonwoo had already gotten up to make you a fresh cup of tea to replace the cold one in your hands.

He had such a keen sense of your anxieties, you wondered if it was because he had the same fears as you.

A heavy sigh escapes you, heart feeling pity for the boy who has diligently stayed by your side everyday since the duel. “What is it?” Your voice is soft, speaking low to not be heard by others. “I was just about to go to sleep.”

“Oh— I’ll come back another night then—”

“Nonsense. Come inside.”

“I… I don’t want to take up too much of your time…”

“You spent the past three weeks putting me back together. You are allowed some of my time.”

He still seems hesitant. A jitteriness that was now making you nervous.

“What is it?” You ask in a tense whisper. “Did you get any news? Has someone else—”

“No! No, not at all,” He waves his hands quickly, immediately banishing the thought of losing yet another classmate. “I just— well, I’m not sure if this may come as a shock to you, but you must know that your fight with Seungcheol is making everyone else in the house deeply uncomfortable—”

You let out a deep sigh of relief. “Is this what you came in the middle of the night for?” Turning your back on him, you wave your hand back, motioning for him to leave your room. “Go to bed, Wonwoo.”

He grabs your left hand, making you halt in your tracks. Turning to face him, you saw the strain etched into his expression. His other hand pauses for a second before reaching over to pull up your sleeve. “Look at what's happened to you.”

Your hand whips out of his and you bring the sleeve down in a defensive rage. “What are you here for, Wonwoo?” You demand this time.

He gathers in a shaky breath as if he were afraid to speak another word out loud. “Have you ever heard of that spell?” His voice drops to a whisper, making sure that you are the only one that can hear him. “That was dark magic, nothing like what we were ever taught in school. Who do you think taught him that spell?”

“You think I care where you learned all your demented spells from?”

“Well you should! I know there’s been a difficult history between our houses, but we’re all here together now. We’re all classmates here, why can’t you just—”

“Just what? Want me to pretend like everythings okay? Like the outside world isn’t burning up all around us? Want me to forget what he’s done to me?”

“I’m not asking for you to forgive him or any of us, but I am asking you to just… accept the situation that we’re all in. Whether you like it or not, we are on the same side now.”

“Acceptance doesn’t come that easily, it’s something to be earned.”

His face falls. “Haven’t I?” Wonwoo’s eyes turn soft, yearning and desperate. “I was hoping that— that at least I am…”

Your heart clenches with guilt. “No… you’re right.” Shaking your head, you reach over to grab his hands in yours. “You’ve— you’ve been a great friend to me the past few weeks, and I can’t ever deny that, it wouldn’t be fair to you.”

His shoulders relax, and he gently returns your grasp. Giving him a faint smile, you guide him into your room as he quietly closes the door behind him. Taking a seat together on your bed, facing each other, a sense of solemnity settles between you.

“This situation in the house…” Wonwoo’s voice is still cautious. “I felt like I needed to come to you, and tell you… if you and Seungcheol continue on this way, it will break us all apart.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes.

“People are starting to walk on eggshells around here, and it’s because of you two.”

“Did you give him the same talk, or are you just lecturing me?” You snap, unable to hold down your annoyance at how everyone’s been treating you since the duel. That loathsome fuck was the one who almost killed you, and yet everyone’s coming to you to try and make amends?

“Oh, trust me,” Wonwoo almost chuckles. “He’s getting lectured by both Mingyu and Hao. You got the lucky end of the stick.”

You bit back a smile at that.

“But you know it’s true. We have to split up with dueling practice, we don’t gather anymore to hear Jun’s nightly news, and we just eat our meals separately now. There needs to be some unity between us in order for us to work together.”

A bitter laugh escapes you. “Since when did you become so pragmatic?”

“I’ve always been,” he responds in exasperation. “I might be friends with those idiots, but don’t lump me in with their antics.”

“You’ve revealed your true self to me six years too late,” You say wryly.

Wonwoo reaches over to grasp your hands again. “I know, and that’s exactly why I refuse to let this chance slip away.” His look is so serious, your smile drops. “Besides, haven’t you ever noticed? I was always the one to pull the boys out of the fights.”

You pause, genuinely considering his words. “I can’t say I have.”

Wonwoo scoffs lightly. “Course not. Your attention was always elsewhere.”

“Like where?” You raise a brow.

“You know where,” he raises a brow back at you. “But now your attention is needed here. I came here because I need you to understand.”

“Understand what, Wonwoo.” Frustration starts to build. “That we’re all in this together now? That we aren’t enemies anymore because we’re fighting on the same side? I get it,” Your voice is dripping with sarcasm. “I still hate the bloody ass, but we’re stuck in this damned house for the same reason.”

The corner of his lips quirk up. “Glad to see that you’re not in denial anymore, but it’s important you know why we ran away in the first place.”

“Because your malevolent Dark Lord is out there murdering people left and right?”

“You’re not wrong,” he says, his eyes darkening. “Believe me when I say that even his most devoted followers feared him. It might have seemed like we were just taking Dark Magic lessons from the Death Eaters, but we were prisoners there. We— we were taught all these different ways to torture, sometimes even forced—”

Your face contorts in confusion, a sick feeling starting to settle in your stomach. “Have you ever…”

“Never.” He shuts you down before you could finish your question. “But… we came close a few times.”

Your hands draw away from his as a chill runs down your spine. Wonwoo looks ashamed, his hands clenched into fists.

“They trained us to be like them. They wanted us to just be another soldier. They taught us how to fight, how to torture, how to kill. They tried to poison our minds.”

A familiar panic starts to fill in his eyes, and guilt washes over you. The fear you’ve developed since running away from the Death Eaters was nothing in comparison to what he went through. How could anyone come out of that normal?

“They made us watch every night. We watched every single muggle, muggle-born or “traitor” be tortured until death. The Death Eaters were creative for sure, I watched some of their bodies be twisted in ways they shouldn’t and others lose their sanity. And on nights where the Eaters had a bit too much to drink, they would make us test the curses out on each other.”

A silence falls on your face, horror-stricken.

“One night… I saw him, Seokmin’s father. I recognized him from the platform before boarding the train. Seokmin looked just like him, the same eyes and smile… I had no idea he was a Muggle. I tried to help him escape.”

Your hands finds his again, gripping his fingers, apologetic for pulling away in the first place. The panic slowly rising in Wonwoo’s eyes.

“I had no idea he was a muggle,” he repeats, the pained look in his eyes begging you to believe him. “I thought we were almost out, but I got caught. Cicero— he was the one who caught me.”

His fingers felt cold in your hands.

“That was the last time I saw his father,” he murmurs. “And Cicero took me away.”

He pulls one hand up to his buttons on his shirt, a slight tremble as he starts to undo them. “Right here,” he guides one of your hands up to the center of his chest. “Is where I have the same scars as you.”

Your heart shatters at the revelation.

He laughs bitterly as you trail your fingers down his disfigured skin. “We all have them. Mingyu has them on his chest as well. Minghao is growing his hair longer to hide the ones on his back, and Seungcheol…” he shakes his head.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. “I never knew… I never imagined… the things you’ve been through,” your words fracture, not knowing what to say.

He’s back to smiling, a maddening reassurance you know he’s trying to give you despite the panic still in his eyes.

“Jean and I may have mended you back together, but Seungcheol cast the counterspell. He’s the one that saved you.”

“Seungcheol? But he’s the one who—”

“I know,” he nods. “He’s the one who used it on you in the first place, but when you were bleeding out in the common room, shirt torn apart and lifeless, it woke something back up in him.”

You shook your head, not saying anything. You didn’t want to believe him, but there was a quiet stirring in your head.

“He was the Dark Lord’s favorite. He trained the most out of all of us, the Dark Lord wanted to use him for his plans, and after months and months of enduring his training… he just couldn’t take it anymore.”

Tears start welling up in his eyes, his voice a mere whisper. “Something inside him… just snapped.” A tear falls from his face. “He didn’t want to kill the headmaster, but he had no choice. He had to. My closest friend is broken now because of it, and— and I don’t know how to fix him.”

Your chest crumples at the sight before you.

“He’s made the Unbreakable Vow.” Wonwoo reveals. “I needed you to understand. He just wanted to live.”

#scoups scenarios #seungcheol scenarios #seventeen scenarios #seventeen #scoups fic #seungcheol fic #harry potter au #seventeen x harry potter #seventeen harry potter au #seventeen x reader #seungcheol x reader #scoups x reader

39 notes · View notes

aeor-is-for-reccing · 1 day

Text

This week, we have eleven fics that feature Caleb, Essek, and at least one other person involved! Look behind the cut for some Shadowidomauk, some Blumenshadow, some Fjord/Essek/Caleb and more!

amongst the things left unforgiven by nonwal (63958, Mature) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

“In which a pair of scourgers shows up at Essek’s doorstep and saves him from himself.“ Slow-burn blumenshadow featuring heavy mistrust, mind games that aren’t mind games, and Caleb mostly in the background thinking he doesn’t deserve to be loved.

Reccer says: One of my all time faves. Nonwal’s gorgeous prose and characterization of these 4 is always top notch, but the dialogue?! The spy vs. spy mind games? The poetic descriptions of longing and grief? The visceral feeling of constant low-level panic punctuated by a full panic attack and maybe developing a crush on your current crush’s evil exes? The DIALOGUE (again)?!?! Absolutely stunning. Side note: chapter 4 features the best Jester dialogue I have ever read. The tag “openly declaring your mutual distrust can be a love language if you do it right” says so much and I love it.

Happily Ever Laughter by Settiai (1288, Teen) Reccer's Content Notes: Veth’s alcoholism is brought up a few times but isn’t the focus.

Adorable Essek/Caleb/Veth/Yeza slice of life fic. Polyamory is not nearly as difficult as trying to teach a hyperactive 6 year old magic can be.

Reccer says: Incredibly sweet little domestic fic. The rapport between them is so soft and gentle and well-worn like the most comfortable pair of old house slippers. The moments where Yeza and Caleb glance at each other and manage to communicate in absolute silence (in that pseudo-telepathic way that some real parenting couples often do) are just so perfect, and Veth still finding Essek somewhat aggravating even while she loves him is :chefskiss: delightful.

Three’s Company by flammablehat (2074, Explicit) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Caleb, Essek, and Fjord have a threesome, and Essek is maybe more than a little jealous about it.

Reccer says: Possessek is always a favorite! Fjord is fjeisty, and Caleb is having the time of his life. It’s both hot and tense.

altogether, infinite possibilities by ivelostmyspectacles (199305, Explicit) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Essek has barely begun to cement his place in Caleb’s life when they bring Mollymauk Tealeaf back from the dead. Slowly, the three of them adapt together.

Reccer says: First part of a series! This was my entry point into Shadowgast!

in the pieces of what's left or what we've found by SeaWitchDreams (14620, Teen) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Astrid takes some time to figure out how she wants to rebuild her life (and who she wants to rebuild it with.)

Reccer says: a wonderfully subtle and contemplative character study, featuring four wizards carefully dancing around each other

the sea, the stars, the dreamers by nonwal (111996, Explicit) Reccer's Content Notes: suicidal ideation

Essek sacrifices his budding relationship with Caleb to marry Archmage Astrid Beck - for the good of the entire galaxy. But whatever Astrid's reason for marrying him is, is not nearly as noble.

Reccer says: This fic takes an unusual premise (Blumenshadow arranged marriage spaceship murder mystery with sea shanties?) and *commits* to it. Still incomplete, but if you've liked this author's other works, you won't regret taking a chance on this one.

(Oh,) How a Human Burns by witches_chant (18318, Explicit) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

This is a story about Essek trying to prepare for eventual loss, depending on if Caleb wants to use the Clone spell or not. But it’s also a story about a lazy, sexy vacation on Rumblecusp where the couple stumble upon a service top and learn things about their relationship (with a happy ending!).

Reccer says: It’s both hot as hell AND feelsy! It’s a really interesting take on Caleb & Essek’s relationship. Honestly I recommend the entire series.

Victim of Convenience by se1ze (54243, Explicit) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Essek and Caleb are together, Essek and Kingsley get together, and Kingsley is losing his mind because Caleb can’t get his shit together. An exploration of the very complicated feelings that crop up when a) no one seems to understand who you are, and b) someone you love thinks they need to stay gone for your own good.

Reccer says: The dialogue is fantastic, the sex is wonderful, and the hurt/comfort is amazing. It establishes the foundation upon which Essek/Kingsley can be a thing in a way that is both endearing and completely believable. Caleb is oblivious to how much Kingsley loves him, and once again hurts those around him by throwing himself on his sword.

(nothing in my bones can say) just where you’ve been by SaltCore (8216, Explicit) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

It takes more time than Caleb realized to get home from the Hellcatch Valley, and in his absence, Essek’s tentative alliance with Astrid and Eadwulf has grown to something more.

Reccer says: Soft and complicated and briefly heartbreaking. The way it manages to feel like an outsider POV reinforces the sense of missing time, of having missed a massive change, and the softness and warmth of everyone’s love for each other is palpable throughout even in the most tense and anxious of moments.

i'll meet judgement by the hounds by necromanticomedy (yelenavasilyevna) (6553, Explicit) Reccer's Content Notes: Dubcon/Consensual Non Consent, knifeplay

Astrid and Eadwulf come to a dinner party to meet Essek Thelyss. Things either go very poorly or very well, depending on your definitions.

Reccer says: the author called it a "insane psychosexual foursome" but neglected to mention that it's the best insane psychosexual foursome you'll ever read

To The Bone by thetickingclock (2919, Teen) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Snapshots of Astrid and Eadwulf's opinion of Essek changing over time (and proximity to Caleb Widogast.)

Reccer says: Hits all my favorite notes when it comes to Blumenshadow, and there's an astounding amount of characterization and relationship development packed into less than 3k words.

Aeor is for Lovers is an 18+ Shadowgast Discord server. The above fanfic recommendations were pulled from our community for this weekly event. All fics, unless otherwise specified, will primarily feature Shadowgast. Have any questions about what this is? Check out the FAQ! Next week, we’ll be back with Lifespan Angst!

#shadowgast #caleb widogast #essek thelyss #critical role #cr fic recs #fan fiction rec list #Kingsley Tealeaf #Mollymauk Tealeaf #Eadwulf Grieve #Yeza Brenatto #Astrid Beck #Veth Brenatto #Fjord Stone

52 notes · View notes

nicollekidman · 22 hours

Note

Waitttt please talk more about tashiart bc i see most ppl slander Art specifically even zendaya (which surprised me) but to me it was always art for tashi even when they first meet its clear she prefers art and wants his number, she wants art to win so badly because she wants their family but also because she wants to respect him

yeah i absolutely agree i think with the standard caveats that they all need each other in different ways and the beauty of the movie is it's up for interpretation etc etc etc

art and tashi have a different dynamic from the drop than tashi and patrick. patrick has the swagger and the bluster and he pushes at tashi like he pushes at art, but the way art chooses his words is much more careful (you screamed) and i think immediately pings to her that he has what she needs (discipline, awareness, insightfulness) in a very particular way that patrick doesn't. also i think it shouldn't be overlooked that she clocks in the hotel room that patrick is hung up on art even though art is focused on her, so i think her awareness of patrick's emotional unavailability (as it were) colors her choices going forward. like... knowing that art is tuned into her and is malleable and willing, while patrick might have the fire but he's already not aligned with her (their) priorities and the Thing that separates them is confidence, not necessarily skill..... "you can beat him. you should beat him" is her choice and its also a test.

and like. he fails it in that moment because it's a test patrick is also participating in!! but patrick and tashi don't have enough between them to sustain them, they're all bark and no real bite because he's not serious or disciplined enough to be a viable partner for her, even before she needs a surrogate. they clearly have a lot of spark but you can't sustain that. she likes when patrick pushes her but she doesn't respect him.

fast forward to 13 years of marriage.......... i get that people have the impulse to say that tashi only loves tennis or tashi can't love art because he's a lapdog or they want her to be a girlboss or whatever but like. those two deeply want/need each other it's just much more difficult for her to communicate that kind of connection than it is with patrick because patrick is simpler. he doesn't demand anything form her really, besides her anger and her body (occasionally), and both of them still exist as teenagers with endless potential in his mind, which is safe. but art is demanding everything from her, even as he's reciprocating by giving her literally every piece of himself, the way he nursed her through her injuries and she his means that like. she can't hide anywhere. so like they're not verbalizing things the same way patrick does, but the devotion is there. she never ever stops telling art he can beat patrick, and when she's not sure, she begs patrick to lose so that there's never any danger of her having to make that choice.

and like. i think art and tashi could be happy without tennis, but i think the point is that she doesn't know because they've never had to try, and even the possibility that she'd lose it all if art doesn't have it in him is enough to make her humble herself in front of patrick. which she has no reason to do unless she wants to keep him. like. they've built an entire life together, she's built art into who he is but that's a two-way process. and they end up inviting patrick back into the fold which enriches their lives and gives them the boost they need but ultimately it's still them inviting patrick into the life they've built together. i don't think it's a happy ending or really a story at all unless you think tashi loves art desperately.

#challengers #tashiart #long post //#keep in mind i haven't eaten and i just logged off so this may be a whole lot of nothing and i have More To Say but skdfjgh

35 notes · View notes

your-local-granny · 5 months

Text

"Our job is to find truth, no matter how painful it may be."

#Happy dl6mas someone get this man some tea and a shock blanket #went suuuupremely crazy last night #and forgot I made a post about Gregory edgeworth at the club lmao #that was in research for this #AAAAANYWAYSSSS #things to think about. The fact that edgeworth has been operating with 98% of the facts of this case #and trying to piece it together his entire life #But bc he is gaslit into thinking he shot his dad he can’t view himself as anything other than a killer #also. There’s something about him being fated to do all the things he did in 1-4 like it’s alllll apart of a predetermined plan from mvk #ANYWAYS #feeling normal this dl6mas #aa #ace attorney #dl 6 incident #dl6mas #miles edgeworth #Portal art💕🌸🌤️

2K notes · View notes

phoenixkaptain · 1 year

Text

I love it when pre Original Trilogy era shows how much effort went into making the Death Star. It took decades, literal decades, and it took so much money and so many people and it was such a secretive thing and it’s staffed by millions because it’s the size of a small moon.

I cannot express how much all of the added information makes it so much funnier that Luke blew it up.

Luke destroys literally everything Palpatine built. He blows up the Death Star, which was referenced in universe as early as the second movie. He blew up the weapon of mass destruction twenty years in the making. And he blew it up pretty much directly after it’s first and only successful attack. It was operational for fifteen minutes, fifteen minutes that Palpatine had the thing he’d been building for longer than Luke has been alive, and Luke blows it up. First day retirement, but first hour retirement.

Luke convinces Darth Vader to turn back to the light side, a feat thought literally impossible by literally everybody. Sidious clearly doesn’t see Vader’s betrayal coming. Vader’s betrayal was not in his plans, nor was it something he was prepared for. Sidious is a powerful Force user with all four limbs while Vader is a man in the tin can Palpatine put him in. If Palpatine had seen Vader turning coming, he would not have allowed it to happen.

Luke literally should not even be alive. Palpatine almost definitely got Padme out of the way on purpose, and he almost certainly was trying for her unborn child as well (there was way too big of a risk that a cute liddol bebe would bring some humanity back to Anakin, and Palpatine did not want Anakin to have any humanity) Luke living is literally the first step in Palpatine’s ultimate downfall, especially once Vader finds out that Luke is his son. His very alive son. His son that is not dead, despite Palpatine claiming Anakin killed Padme. Implying that Anakin killed Padme and she posthumously gave birth. But, she didn’t give birth on Mustafar, which was the last place Anakin interacted with her. And once the mother dies, you have to get those fuckers out fast or they die too.

I imagine Darth Vader piecing all of this together is that meme with all the math floating around his head, because how could Padme have died by his hand and then given birth like two hours later?

Luke killing Palpatine is what ultimately leads to the dissolution of the Empire as an omnipotent entity. Luke killed the Empire. Luke spends a good amount of his adult life killing Empire remnants. We see that in the Mandalorian, since he’s so recognizable that Gideon immediately knows he’s fucked just by seeing an X-wing. We read it in Legends’ continuity, where Luke terrifies Imperials because he can walk into their changing room and stand in their for a minute and they don’t even notice.

Luke destroyed Palpatine’s life’s work. Everything Palpatine spent his whole life working towards, and Luke kills all of it. He blows up not one, but two Death Stars (he may not have pulled the trigger on the second Death Star, but without him, it never would have been destroyed). He convinces not one, but multiple Sith and Dark Jedi to return from the Dark Side. He is the only reason that Obi-Wan Kenobi, the biggest pain in Palpatine’s ass ever born, lives long enough to make it to the Death Star.

Palpatine went through so much effort. And just when he had finally won, when he finally had a weapon capable of destroying entire planets with a single blast, making it impossible for any planets or peoples to go against him, Luke shows up nineteen years late to the Jedi party with space Starbucks and a droid twice his age and almost singlehandedly destroys everything Palpatine ever had a hand in creating.

Luke manages to become even worse than Obi-Wan Kenobi, the ultimate thorn in the side of politicians, and Luke doesn’t even understand any politics. He wasn’t trained in diplomacy like Obi-Wan and Leia, no, he’s a farmboy who left home for the first time in his entire life, just this morning. And he is the one to destroy the Empire.

If they rewrote Star Wars and had it entirely from Palpatine’s perspective, Luke Skywalker would be his greatest foe. Luke Skywalker would be the final boss. Luke Skywalker is the antithesis of everything Palpatine believes in and he is the one character that Palpatine cannot predict. He isn’t as moldable as Anakin, he doesn’t respond to threats very well, he’s apparently impossible to kill via Force lightning (still the funniest scene of all times, the progression of Palpatine’s face falling and him looking like “what the fuck??? Is this kid rubber??? I’ve electrocuted him eight times???”), his unwavering faith in his father’s goodness makes Darth Vader want to be a better person, Luke Skywalker is the big bad of Palpatine’s story and—

There is nothing in this world that is funnier than someone’s biggest antagonist being Luke fucking Skywalker. Luke Skywalker, who saved the galaxy with the power of love and who shouldn’t exist, by Jedi rules and by Palpatine’s own attempts, and whose best friends are literally droids, which Palpatine canonically hates!

Everything about this is hilarious, this is the funniest thing in all of media, Palpatine loses absolutely everything to some backwater farmboy who fucking likes droids.

#luke skywalker #star wars #anakin skywalker #sheev palpatine #darth sidious #original trilogy #the inane ramblings of a madman #listen i recognize that other people are important in the plot of sw #but at the same time #luke is the marble that gets things rolling #just in general #luke is the reason obi wan eventually actually kills maul #luke somehow gave yoda hope that another generation of jedi was an achievable goal #luke saved leia from being executed #luke is the sun of the series #it’s from him that literally everything grows #the story that began this universe #is one of a boy becoming an adult #and so without luke skywalker #none of the characters would exist #thus luke is the sun and we should all bask in the rays #but also in how funny it is #that this guy was more of a pain than obi wan kenobi #a feat previously thought impossible #long post

10K notes · View notes

tacticaldiary · 9 months

Text

It All Comes Crashing Down

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

She presses the metal radio against her lips and mumbles her final words, hoping that although he has not spoken, he would hear.

"I love you, Simon.

A/N: The classic 'bomb my location' fic you've all been waiting for! This has been sitting in my drafts for weeks, so I'm glad I finally got it out- I'm thinking about a part 2 where she wakes up and it's some extra fluff, maybe?

Masterlist

She takes a shaky breath in as her hands grip her rifle tighter, but when she speaks her voice is as steady and firm as ever.

"Bomb my location."

The words are acrid on her tongue, but they feel right to her heart. Her mind is in disarray, trying to piece together any other solution that won't have her ending up under dead under pounds of rubble, but she knows deep down that there's no other way out of this.

An entire enemy organisation eliminated at the expense of one soldier.

It was a win-win for everyone but her.

And that was alright. She's made her peace with it, made it the moment she signed her name on those documents giving her life away to the tang of blood and the scent of gunsmoke.

"Level the building." She continues, wincing at another hail of fire that rains upon her. Heavy footsteps and orders barked in Russian move around her location. Steadily being surrounded, there was little hope for a smooth extraction or escape anyway. "Have Soap blow the charges, Captain. Then send in the airship and raze this hellhole to the ground."

"Like hell we're doing that." Gaz's voice comes through her comms, frustrated. "We're not leaving her, Price." They must have rendezvoused successfully, because Gaz doesn't speak through the comms, rather it sounds as if he's turning away his head to speak to the man directly.

It brings a small smile to her face despite the circumstances. Her boys would get out of this, at least.

Simon. Her mind flashes to her Simon and she thanks whoever's above that they had split up before everything went to shit.

It had been fine at first. She was setting the charges they needed to bring the building down while he fetched the intel from somewhere else, and really, she should have been suspicious when it all went smoothly.

She'd planted the last charge before the enemy started closing in.

Like rats, they seemed to emerge out of nowhere shooting her down and pinning her until she had no choice but to slip away and barricade herself in one of the nearby rooms. The entrance and exits were likely swarmed with people and here she sat, in the heart of it all.

Unreachable, untouchable.

She sort of tunes out the muted conversation on the other end, lets the ringing on her head take over. Loud angry cursing, yelling in distinctive Scottish, the harsh rasp of her Captain telling everyone to calm down...it all floats through her mind.

Everyone but Ghost.

She doesn't hear his voice...but he was alive, wasn't he? She'd seen him slip out of the building through the window in front of her, so she knows he must have gotten out. The thought makes her gut curl up, brings her back to the present.

"Negative, Sergeant." Price's voice cuts through her thoughts, much louder than the others. "We're mapping out a route to come get you-"

"Price, it'll be suicide." Perhaps it's the way her voice softens and quiets, the gentle way she talks so different from the harsh way she's spoken earlier. It's as if she's accepted it, is content to lay down and allow herself to be swallowed by the dirt she came from. "I'm one soldier. Don't make yourself visit more than one coffin."

"I'm going to-"

"Set off the charges."

There's a beat of silence, painstaking silence where nobody speaks. Even the gunfire outside the room she's barricaded in seems to fade out for a moment.

"Copy."

A death sentence coming from the man she considered family.

It cracks a smile out of her. She squeezes her eyes shut, lets her head fall against the blood spattered wall behind her.

"Make sure my replacement's just as much a pain in the ass to you, alright?" If the way her voice breaks at the end of her last sentence is noticed, it's not brought up. "Simon's gotta have someone to push around, yeah?"

"There's no replacing you."

There's arguing. Soap and Gaz are yelling, and it's startling because she's never heard either of them shout the way they are, at their Captain nonetheless.

It's comforting to know she was cared for, even if she's about to die.

A sudden bang on her door makes her jump. Muffled Russian filters through the old wood. Someone ramming at it with something, trying to break it down.

But it doesn't really matter, does it? She'll be going out on her own terms even if they find her now.

Ghost...Simon. Where was he? If there was one thing that'd settle her mind right now it'd be hearing that gravelly voice, even if it was merely yelling at her, telling her how stupid it was to suggest what she has.

A desperation claws at her chest, deep down. She wants Simon, wants to spend the night in his bed again, wants to hug him, feel his skin, wants to see those rare smiles of his one more time.

Just once.

Just one more time before she-

"Charges setting off in 5-"

How cruel was the world?

She hopes Simon knows that she didn't mean to leave him. That she wanted him to go on without her, to not fall into the void of 'what-if's.' It wasn't his fault.

Her eyes burn but she refuses to let out the helpless sob clawing its way up her throat. She wants...she wants so much. Wants to do so much more, wants to live, and breathe and smile and laugh and experience and live. Simon. She wants to tell him so much more.

If she could go back in time and fill their silences with all the words she wants him to know right now, she'd do it in a heartbeat.

It's an impulsive decision, how her hand shoots up to grab at her radio frantically. Switching it to the private line between just the two of them, she presses the metal against her lips and mumbles her final words, hoping that although he has not spoken, he would hear.

"I love you, Simon."

The ground crumbles beneath her, the world turns to black.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Slipping out of the small shed, he tucks the papers into his vest. For a multi-national organisation, they sure were stupid as hell when hiding their intel.

Scanning the grounds for any movement, Ghost moves out, keeping to the shadows until he reaches the edge of the field that morphed into the woods farther down.

"Intel secured, moving to rendezvous point now." He says into his comms. He frowns when he doesn't get an answer back, grabbing his radio and speaking again, casting a glance back into the foliage in the distance where he knows the others have staked their place to operate from.

Price, Gaz, and Soap were operating remotely, dealing with drones and distant detonation devices, whereas the other two had infiltrated the building separately.

Plant the charges and secure the intel. Simple tasks made difficult when they both realised that the intel wasn't in the building, but instead in the shed attached to the side of the complex instead. Splitting up had been the most logical thing to do, even when Ghost had refused at first.

"It'll be fine. Quick and easy, right?" She'd told him with a grin. "Get that intel before I'm out of the building and maybe I'll give you an extra treat when we get back." Ghost had rolled his eyes at her suggestive wink.

"Does anyone copy?" He says into the object. He's met with nothing but muffled crackling and garbled speech, tinny and indecipherable. Ghost scowls at the machine, ripping it off of his vest and turning it over. It crackles and pops with bursts of sound but nothing cohesive enough to interpret

"I-...ou...Simon"

"Fucking thing's busted." He mumbles to himself, shoving the item back into his vest, his hand brushing against the folder of intel he's successfully recovered from the shed attached to the main building.

He can spot one of the convoy vehicles near the edge of the woods, but he doesn't let his guard down even as he crosses the field towards it.

Ghost barely takes a step through the dead grass before the building behind him goes up in an explosion that makes even him unsteady with the force of it. Flames lick up the east side of the massive structure and Ghost takes a second to watch as it crumbles in on itself sending up clouds of dust and debris.

Good fucking riddance.

He's looking forward to getting the hell out of this place once he rendezvous with everyone else. This mission had stretched on for far longer than it should have, the elusive bastards slipping away through their fingers time and time again with dirty, underhanded tactics.

The foliage grows thicker as he steps into the woods, rifle at the ready. A click of a safety had him raising his weapon and spinning around immediately.

When he sees a very familiar mohawk, however, he lowers his weapon instantly. "Blue!" He says loudly, bringing up a hand to half Soap. "Just me, Johnny."

Soap follows suit and lowers his weapon, his shoulders visibly relaxing the tiniest bit. "Welcome back." He says, but something about his voice makes Ghost uneasy. "Price and...and the others are prepping exfil." He gestures towards the clearing.

"Everyone else made it back?" He asks as they push through the meager trees and into the open space where soldiers are rushing around tying up loose ends.

"Aye." Soap chokes out.

Ghost would question it, but he's too busy doing a sweep of the clearing, putting names to faces. Price and Gaz were there, going back and forth over something. It strikes him a little odd how furious Gaz looks, Price looking so resigned but he pushes it away in favour of catching a glimpse of the person he's more inclined to spot.

"We tried what we could, but she was pinned down." Soap breaks the silence, misinterpreting the reason behind his silent staring at Gaz and Price. "We didn't...Laswell's insisting immediate evac, but Gaz wants to at least find a body to bury." A bitter laugh that makes Ghost's stomach drop like a stone.

"What?"

Soap rakes a bloody hand through his hair, shakes his head, and continues on like he's in some sort of shock. "I don't want to. I think she'd rather us leave her buried there than dig out bits and pieces and bury her again." His voice cracks.

Bury...?

There's only one woman in their team.

There's only one person he hasn't accounted for in the clearing.

There's only one person he hasn't reached on his comms before they broke.

The world spins, his mind screams and falls silent, a crescendo of noise and denial. The ground shifts beneath his feet, rocking him into a state that makes him feel like he's walking on string.

"MacTavish." His words are so calm and even, it's eerie. "Is my girl still in the building?" He feels detached from himself, perhaps a way to distance himself from the pain of the implied.

Soap looks at him for a long moment, then croaks out one, broken word.

"Was."

And it all comes crashing down.

He's been through torture before. Had his skin marred, his fingernails torn off, been hung from his ribs but nothing, nothing has ever come close to the way his heart twists.

Nothing had ever made him panic in a way that has his throat closing up.

"Christ." Johnny breathes, and it's a sound that drags him back from the brink of something horrible. Soap's eyes are fixed on the empty spot on his vest that holds his radio on normal days, horrified. "You didn't bloody know." He states.

Wasting time answering is useless. Talking, speaking breathing is useless because not a moment later Ghost is sprinting towards the rubble.

The rubble that he had just watched fallen. The building he'd stood there and watched fall down, had felt pride and relief in seeing.

His gear digs into him, the air thickens with smoke and dust but he doesn't stop. Vaguely he hears people yelling after him, hears Price and Gaz and Soap and every other motherfucker who stood by and detonated the charges. Friend or foe it didn't matter to him right now. If someone dared to get in his way he'd mow them all down, grind them into nothing and keep going.

They blew the charges.

The airship would be here any minute to finish the job.

No, he'd get to her by then. Ghost slams down into the ground somewhere near where they split off. He'd find her by then, and he'd bring her back, bring her to medical and she'd be fine in a week or two.

There was no other fucking option.

The debris rakes off the fabric of his gloves, splits the skin on his fingertips as he hauls and pushes and pulls and digs through stone and metal and wood, leaving evidence of his efforts in the form of his own blood behind.

She had to be okay.

Not her. Not like his mother, not like his brother, not like his nephew.

Not her.

He digs, calls out her name until his voice is hoarse, pulls away piece after piece of rubble until his fingers are torn to shreds.

Just as he hears the sounds of incoming aircraft, he spots something that makes the knot in his chest slam against his ribcage in pure and utter terror.

It's been a while since Simon has felt fear this pure.

Hair that he's familiar with, strands that he's gripped and gently soothes his fingers through peek out from under the piece of metal he's just lifted.

Unable to breathe, his attempts at moving the earth increase tenfold. He picks off stone after stone, brick after brick until more of her body is uncovered. Still, unmoving, bleeding. Once he's gotten her top half free, he hesitates for one horrible moment because what if he looks down to see a still chest?

Steeling himself, he bites the bullet and curls an arm around her waist, pulling her out of the debris.

The relief that slams into him when he feels her shallow, breaths against his palm is almost enough to send him to his knees.

"I've got you, love." He mumbles, half to himself as he adjusts her in his arms. She's dead weight, pulse barely there but present.

Cuts and bruises, Ghost can name at least five lacerations and countless other places she's bleeding from, a broken arm, leg, and who knows what kind of internal bleeding.

Alive.

But still alive.

And that was enough because like hell Ghost was going to let the one good thing in his life slip through his fingers ever again. He'd drag whoever he needed to her aid, he'd go to hell and back just to make sure she got to open her eyes again.

With limps that ache and a heart that's heavy, he quickly moves them out of the rubble, just in time to see two aircraft circling their location. They hadn't dropped any explosives yet, which a far part of Simon's brain thinks might be Price's doing.

Uncaring of whoever was watching, because frankly everyone could fuck off right now and it would be preferable, Ghost presses his lips to her hair as he moves into the clearing with her.

"Medic!" He barks out. "Right fucking now!"

He ignores Gaz's strangled gasp, ignores the way the entire team approaches them and tries to help. Ghost is a little concerned that if he let the adrenaline that's pumping through his veins go, he might just collapse as well, and that was unacceptable at the moment.

A weak hand grasps at the front of his vest, his eyes snapping immediately to her at the movement.

"S...'mon?" She says, words so faint he barely hears them?

"I'm here." He confirms, pressing his face to her hair harder. "I've got you, darling." He whispers. "I've got you."

It soothes her, because she nods against him and lets herself relax. It's only then that Simon notices she's holding something in her good hand in a deathly tight grip.

Upon closer inspection, it's a radio.

"I-...ou...Simon"

Fucking hell. His grip on her tightens.

She'd been trying to contact him in what she thought were her last moments, and he'd never have known because his fucking radio was broken.

It doesn't matter, he tells himself, chants it over and over again in his mind. He's got her again, and like hell is he ever letting go now.

When the medics bring out a stretcher, Price has to talk him into letting her go down into him, practically ordering him to let the bloody medics do their jobs. He doesn't stray far, however, keeping a hand on her at all times. Sat next to where they were working on her in the helicopter back, never once do his eyes stray from her unconscious form.

She wakes up once or twice, whines, and fights against the medic's hands with a panic-induced haze. Every time Simon is there, holding her hand, muttering rough, soothing praise and assurances.

It calms her down immediately, the trust in those far away pain-addled eyes when they meet his is enough to make his heart twist.

Simon stays with her the entire time, and then takes residence in a seat next to her hospital bed on base, ready for when she wakes up.

Hell would freeze over before Simon would ever let them be apart again.

If that makes him selfish, then so be it.

Requests Are Open! Reblog, Like and Comment!

(12/08/2023)

4K notes · View notes

soamericn · 2 months

Text

𝜗𝜚 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄

🐰ྀི₊˚⊹ ‘ one night he wakes strange look on his face pauses, then says you're my best friend and you knew what it was he is in love ‘

𝜗𝜚… summary , ( f!yn x oscar piastri ) oscar piastri is head over heels for his best friend, though he keeps his feelings a secret. he wins his first race in f1 and after seeing her cheering him on in the crowd he can’t hide his affections any longer.

𝜗𝜚… type , irl

𝜗𝜚… faceclaim , up to your imagination <3

𝜗𝜚… triggers , there is none

𝜗𝜚… authors note , my first f1 one shot! I'm really proud ngl and it's as cute as I was hoping! hope ya'll enjoy!

🐰ྀི₊˚⊹ masterlist

all he could hear was his heartbeat in his helmet; it flooded his ears like static on a radio. After getting out of the car without a thought in his head, he stepped onto the car in front of the halo putting both of his arms into the air.

Adrenaline flooded his senses, his colorful helmet shined under the night race lights. The cheers were overwhelmingly loud as each voice blended together into the sea of people.

Subconsciously so, his ears searched for one voice in particular, one that was soft and comforting. The one he’d share a laugh with until three in morning. Or would tease him inexplicably. But the voice was stirred in with the rest.

Oscar stepped down from the car, and the first thing he did was run into the ocean of papaya. Many hands covered him, patting his back or helmet hearing many compliments on his win. After a minute or so of drowning himself in the praise and affection from his team he stepped away removing his helmet and placing it on a pedestal.

He ran a hand through his damp hair, it staying in place as he did so. A hand landed on his shoulder and he turned, seeing a man in a matching suit who pulled him into a hug. “Mate you did great.” He complimented, his voice directly in his ear.

The Australian didn’t realize how truly speechless he was until someone directly spoke to him. The words formed in his throat but never made it out of his mouth.

Lando pulled away with a light two taps on his back. “Thanks, maybe not pelting me with champagne could be a good job present.” Oscar jokes.

The Brit lets out a small laugh and shakes his head, “Oh c'mon you need the full podium experience-” Oscar’s attention on Lando was cut off, the voice.

The one he’d scanned for, moments before the voice had made itself known. She shouted his name from behind the short fence with the rest of the crowd desperately trying to get the man she’d known for most of her life’s attention. Oscar’s eyes searched the crowd, until they found her, he could’ve picked her out in any crowd his entire being always seemed drawn to her.

“Oscar!” His best friend. The only one he’s ever really known. Always supporting him, even today adorning herself in all papaya wearing a jersey he’d known for a fact had a huge eighty-one on the back (and might’ve been stolen from his closet), all for him.

Oscar rushed over, as soon as he’d spotted her after the race, he just knew he needed her in the moment. The calm, composedness of his being suddenly dissolved into the smokey air. Still with a small fence between them he wrapped his arms around her waist pulling her into a tight hug. Her arms naturally floated around his neck, they fit together perfectly like two puzzle pieces made just for one another. Camera flashes flooded their sudden embrace, and he lightly lifted her into the air as he tightened their hold on one another. They could’ve done the whole podium ceremony, everyone could have gone home and Oscar would’ve stayed here with his arms around her always.

“You did so well today.” Her voice was soft, the words only meant for him. She only wanted him to know how proud she was of him. How much her heart raced as he crossed the checkered flag, and how much support she’d carried with her for him through everything.

His impulsiveness took over as soon as he heard her speak, he wasn’t thinking about anything in that moment, not the cameras, the thousands of people that surrounded the pair, and certainly not the feelings he carried for her for many years; the feelings he kept deep down for too long, way too long. He only thought of her, the way her soft voice tickled against his skin and the flush it brought to his already red cheeks.

Placing a delicate but firm hand on her cheek which she covered with her own hand, her cheeks turning a light and kind shade of pink and a gentle smile formed from her lips. The lips Oscar just happened to notice how pink and heart shaped they’d been and how soft they looked compared to his own chapped ones.

Oscar slightly looked down and she’d looked up at him, her eyes seemed as if they were looking into him, as if she could’ve read his thoughts. Standing like this for a second, there was a moment where the Australian had contemplated, was he going to possibly ruin a friendship over his own feelings? Before he could even think about not doing it, her eyelashes fluttered warm and innocent and he filled the gap between them.

They were perfectly made for one another. They moved in sync, and she’d tasted of an orange mocktail and strawberry chapstick and everything that's made her, her. His thumb lightly stroked her cheek, and his arm snaked around her waist holding her tightly.

Both her arms ended up around his neck, smiling sweetly into the kiss and giggled lightly into the Aussies mouth. Not hearing the reactions from the crowd surrounding them.

When Oscar pulled away they’d both missed the warmth and comfort of one another. But realization hit him like a tidal wave, remembering all of his actions so clearly except for how her arms fit so perfectly around him, and the way she’d smiled at his affections.

His hand removed itself from her waist and mind started to race and he pictured missed calls, a missing eighty-one jersey in the crowd, losing the praise of a voice that motivated him to be better. He’d completely zoned out at this point and she’d used her hand placing it back on his freckled cheek and directing him to look at her. Of course she’d know what he was thinking.

She always did.

She’d looked up at him, a small glint in her eyes, that made Oscar wanna kiss her all over again but he held back, fear filling his chest so tightly he’d felt like he’d choke on it. He’d race cars at 300km/h without as much fear as he felt now.

Placing a hand on his other cheek, she stood on her tippy toes reaching his lips giving them a light peck. Her way of saying everything was gonna be okay. His cheeks flushed a deep shade of red and his arms comfortably made its way back around her waist and his hand slid up her back.

She looked up at him, anticipating him to make a move. Though she was impatient, she pulled his racing suit collar down and her lips landed on his once again. He gasped in between his lips, a small surprise of her sudden affection.

“I think I’ve always loved you.” He whispered into her mouth in between kisses, her heart shaped lips formed in a smile against his.

She pulled away, lightly biting his bottom lip, “you think I didn’t?” She grinned a light giggle leaving her lips.

It was like a candle had been relit in Oscar’s head, a candle that flamed only for her. A flame that reminded him how much he needed her, how much he’d been needing her. His arms tightened around her almost possessively so, he reveled in the taste and feeling of her, and how she finally knew that most of him was hers.

𝜗𝜚… tags , @whitcferrari @miguelasdr @lcvelctters @cedarbcws

#𝜗𝜚˖ ࣪₊˚ soamericns works!#friends to lovers is everything to me #formula 1 #formula one #f1 #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #formula one x reader #formula one x y/n #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x reader #lando norris #f1 fic #formula one fic #formula one fanfiction

1K notes · View notes

ghostaholics · 1 year

Text

fuck it i'm thinking about grump x sunshine trope and a neighbor au with ghost where he's known for being the building's loner-tenant, this brute bear of a man that keeps to himself.

nobody's ever seen him smile or caught a glimpse of the entirety of his face because he always wears a black surgical mask when he's going to and from his flat; nobody's ever had a full-length conversation with him, because true to his callsign, he's in and out of the building with as much silence and stealth as a ghost. the other residents gossip about him: the water-cooler talk usually goes along the lines of them trying to piece together his story, who he is, what he looks like, whether they should be worried about the fact that he lives there (because there's nothing wrong with being a recluse but he does give off slightly terrifying vibes due to his size and demeanor). the rumor mill’s churning out these outlandish ideas about his private life and they kind of make assumptions based on little things they’ve noticed about him since he’s started living there.

enter in his new neighbor who's never met him, but was advised on her move-in day that he doesn't interact much with the other residents, basically a light debrief on how he can come off as cold and aloof and while some people have made attempts in the past to greet him, they’ve been dissuaded by his general standoffishness and avoidance of any social interaction.

anyways, simon wakes up at odd times throughout the night because he's got the most fucked sleeping schedule from deployment; he can start his day anywhere from 4am, 6pm, and so forth but on one particular morning, he's up at 3:30am, ready to go out for a jog of all things at this hour and then in the hall, he runs into his cute neighbor who's holding this also equally cute german shepherd puppy in her arms; his reaction consists of slowly blinks and a blank expression because he doesn’t quite know what to make of the sight in front of him

and she's staring back at simon with wide, frightened eyes not because she finds him intimidating or anything of that nature (honestly she doesn’t really give two shites about what the others say about him) but because the landlord has a severe and well-known, no-pets policy so she's been sneaking the puppy outside to use the bathroom in creative ways (one of them being at a time where she's certain none of the other tenants are awake) – she's basically been caught red-handed and fuck she's not sure if he's the type to snitch so all she can really say is:

❝ You didn't see anything. ❞

to which he deadpans,

❝... Sure. ❞

because he’s really just trying to mind his own business and not get involved, ducks his head before shouldering past her in the corridor to get outside – he tells himself he can’t bring himself to care about this new development

however, she's not entirely confident that he's going to make good on his word, so she bakes these cookies (special recipe of hers that she’s hopeful will win him over), leaves them in front of his door as a bribe with a card that says please don’t get me evicted ♡ on the inside, which seemed like an excellent plan in theory until he shows up the next day with an empty plate, a very real, very genuine request for more, and a serious demand to see the german shepherd that’s trying to squirm its way out the door to greet simon

edit: love thy neighbor masterlist

#I have more to say but I’m stopping myself right there #part one is being written #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #ghost x you #ghost x reader #simon riley headcanons #ghost headcanons #simon ghost riley #simon riley

6K notes · View notes

ronwestbreeze · 11 months

Text

too slow

pairing: miguel o'hara x spider!fem!reader

warnings: angst heheh. spoilers! small scenes of somewhat explicit nsfw. mentions of death!

summary: the both of you would come back from this. you would...right?

word count: 4.9k

author's note: did i come out of hiatus just to post a angsty miguel fic? yes. you know i had to as y'alls fav angst queen

part 2

No matter how far you left that spider life behind, he somehow managed to pull you back in.

And god you tried so desperately to stay away. To refuse him.

Miguel O’Hara just had a way with you. He always did.

Sometimes you wished you were stronger.

The moment you stepped into your apartment was when all of your senses struck your spine and made you freeze in your doorway.

No one else would have known to continue forward cautiously by leaping up to your ceiling and crawling the rest of the way into the apartment, high on alert. Then again, no one else was you. At least not in this universe.

Your spider senses got worse as you crawled toward your ajar bedroom door. When you were close enough, you dropped down as quietly as you could to the floor. One hand preparing a web to shoot and the other raising toward the door to push it further open.

Only you freeze all together.

A sharp tingle struck your back.

Behind you.

Of course, you were quick. Without turning toward the intruder entirely, you shot a web to grab a large vase sitting on a nearby table in the short hallway and swung it behind you. They dodged the vase just as fast and you instantly shot both of your webs toward the intruder. Only for them to be caught by them with both their hands.

“I’m disappointed, Domino.”

It was a mistake to let your guard down by only a little. It was a mistake to instantly recognize his voice.

“Miguel—AAARGH!”

A sudden yank from the webs caused you to fly forward until an iron grip wrapped around both your wrists. Until you were facing the scarlet and blue mask of the one Spider-Man you never expected to see again.

“Too slow.” Even with the mask, you could hear his smirk.

Now that you were aware of who you were dealing with, the tension in your muscles lessened. Just a little.

Some part of you wanted to say “You shouldn’t be here” but since you weren’t in the mood for a long and exhausting spout with the man, you took the more easy and straightforward route of the conversation.

“Why are you here, Miguel?”

His hold on your wrists loosened but he didn’t let go right away. Which was to your dismay as you really didn’t want to be this close to him. Not when you knew that both seeing him now and now having very little space between the both of you would compromise your senses, your steeled will.

And yet you didn’t pull away.

You watched quietly as his mask disappeared, trying your very best not to get too drawn into his features like you used to. Resisting the urge to run your fingers through his dark locks, tugging on some of them like the old days.

Stop.

That was a long time ago.

And it should remain that way.

Unfortunately, Miguel didn’t appear as strong or restrained. The way he hungrily looked at you wasn’t missed but it certainly wasn’t voiced. By either of them. That was something they wouldn’t touch right now. Probably not ever.

When his forehead gently brushed against yours, when his scent overwhelmed your nostrils was when you forced yourself back on solid ground.

“Miguel.”

Eventually, he also had to pull himself together. Eventually, he dropped his hold on your wrists and walked around you, putting a good distance between the two of you. Warily and curiously, you watched his movements.

He gestured toward the shattered pieces of what once was the vase, “I bought you that, you know. That was rude.”

“So is breaking into someone’s apartment.” You retorted dryly.

Miguel suddenly took out a small object that shone in the gentle light of the sunset, “I still have a key.”

You huffed, “Imma need that back.” You tried reaching for it, only for Miguel to quickly yank it out of your reach, the beginnings of a smirk forming on his face. That’s when you grew annoyed.

“I thought you were never gonna come back to this universe again. Remember? You went on a whole tangent about it.”

“Mmm.” Was his response at first. You silently watched him tuck the extra key away into some invisible pocket in his suit. “That was only after you said you were never coming back to the team” You tensed at this as the memories came trickling back. “Or coming back to me—”

“So what’s changed?”

Miguel frowned, “I need you—”

“No.”

You reframed from smirking at the twitch in his jaw, at the way his trained mask momentarily slipped at your obvious stubbornness. You gestured in the direction of the front door, “If that’s all, the door’s over there—”

“It’s Electro.” That, of course—he knew it would—made you stop. It was your turn for your mask to fall, just enough for Miguel to notice as well. The intenseness in his features softened, “It’s your brother…he somehow made it into another universe—”

“When do we leave?” Miguel had the audacity to look surprised. You glared, “I’m not doing this for you, O’Hara. It’s like you said, he’s my brother. After that, I’m done for good, you hear me?”

With that, he schooled his face back to a controlled mask. One that meant business.

“Whatever you say, Domino.”

You wince and send him another glare before stalking toward your bedroom to change.

Ever since he started calling you that name, Domino, you’ve hated it. It originated from a mission gone bad—mostly for you—and he hadn’t stopped calling you Domino since. It was mostly because you had been knocked down into a bunch of trash cans that happened to be in a long line.

Hobie said you tumbled like a stack of dominos. Miguel never let that moment go.

Fuck him.

Yet despite your hatred for it, you never discouraged it. You just liked the way he said it. You liked the way his voice softened whenever—

No. Fuck him. Fuck him. Fuck. Him.

After this you wouldn’t ever have to see him again. You wouldn’t ever have to be wrapped up in his shadows, in his overwhelming way of showing…

Fuck him.

It was odd being back in your old suit. Frankly, it felt dated as you swung around in it. There was an itching part of you that wanted to update it, get new designs, and test them out of your suit. Self-restraint was a challenge during that mission. Especially around Miguel.

Thankfully, Jessica and Hobie showed up so it wasn’t just you and Miguel facing Electro—or in other words your estranged brother. It was already enough having to face family drama, but then you add a frustratingly unlabeled drama that kept interfering with your focus.

“Stay on your side, O’Hara!” You snapped when you dodged an electric zap sent your way.

“Don’t be a child!” Miguel shot back.

“I’m not! We agreed Hobie and I’d take left and you and Drew would take right! You are not holding your end of the agreement!” You landed on a nearby pylon. “Which is no surprise!”

Another blast came from Electro, this time aimed at Miguel and Hobie. Hobie was able to swing out of the way and land on the same tower with you while Miguel landed on the other side, “What the hell is that supposed to mean!?”

“She means you’re an asshole, bud.” Hobie added.

“Nobody asked you!”

“Hey!” Jessica shouted from below, steering her motorcycle toward Electro, “Less fighting like children and more getting this guy before he causes the entire city to go dark!”

The fight hadn’t gone on for long. Eventually, you were able to confront your brother up close despite Miguel’s protests against it. Yet you were the one that knew your brother the best, who was he or anyone else to tell you what to do when it came to him? Certainly not, Miguel. Leader of a secret society or not, this was your turf. He asked you here and you would complete the job the way you knew how.

There was a point where you managed to get Electro at a somewhat calm and the thrilled part of you was ready to prove Miguel right. But unfortunately, family bonds wouldn’t save you in this situation. It wouldn’t tie anything up in the neat bow you were expecting.

The blast nearly threw you entirely off the building if not for a bunch of webs catching you in mid air and bringing you back up. Miguel and Hobie managed to subdue Electro thanks to your unintentional distraction while Jessica was the one to pull you back to your feet.

“Damn, babes, that was a close one.” She gave an amused smirk. “Just how long have you been out of the game?”

“Shut up, Drew.” You grumbled despite the other woman’s grin.

Coming back to HQ was the very last thing you wanted to do. But you wanted to make sure your brother was properly dealt with. Even if that meant dealing with Miguel’s bullshit along the way.

As you entered the computer room, Miguel’s mask came off, “What the hell was that back there?”

“Domino doing Domino things.” You mutter dryly.

“Yeah you are.” Hobie held up his hand for a high five, which you reluctantly gave.

Miguel sent him a scathing scowl before turning back to you, “You think this is funny? You could’ve gotten yourself killed back there!”

“I had it handled.” You gritted out, removing your own mask. “He didn’t need everyone coming at him all at once. If you had given me a few more minutes with him—“

“But we didn’t have a few minutes, did we?” Miguel snapped quickly.

“No, of course not.” You crossed your arms, ignoring how he stood taller than you. Ignoring how he would’ve appeared menacing if not for your pissed off mood. “Because everything has to go O’Hara’s way, right? Fuck everybody else.”

Hobie smirked from the side of the room, his mask also removed, “I missed her. ‘ow come she’s not around often, Bossman?”

Miguel’s jaw twitched dangerously because they all knew Hobie never referred to him as “Bossman” unless to piss him off. because he knew that Hobie didn’t respect him as much, and didn't care for him as a leader. Bossman was just Hobie being a little shit, in Miguel’s words at least.

“It was fucking reckless.” Miguel seethed. “And as usual, you’re too immature to even realize what you did. What could’ve happened—“

“You brought me here!” You snapped back, as venomous as his fangs. “If you don’t like my way then you should’ve left me the fuck alone!”

“Guys, come on.” Jessica sighed, already used to the both of you like this.

Miguel was fuming and trying so desperately to hide the fact that you easily worked him up this way. And him failing at hiding it only made him pissed off even more.

He hissed, turning his back to you.“I was being considerate. For your sake. It was your brother after all…It was a mistake bringing you in. I should’ve known fucking better.”

A bitter laugh left your lips, “Finally! We can agree on something!” You stalked out of the room with Hobie trailing behind you—you were used to him following you around—as you muttered, “Let me know when you’ll be sending Max back.”

Just as you left the room, there was a loud crash and Jessica snapping at Miguel.

When your brother was finally sent back to your universe so that he could be sent to a cell powerful enough to hold him, you left HQ and didn’t look back when you did. Swearing to yourself that it would be the last time you would ever allow yourself to step back into that place. To allow yourself to set your eyes upon him again.

Unfortunately, that promise didn’t last too long.

Despite yourself, you started messing with your suit designs. Adding new stuff to make it look less dated than before. But that didn’t mean you were back to that spider life. No. Not one bit.

Hobie swung by your dimension and suggested that both of you went crime fighting for the day. And you only agreed just so your fighting techniques weren’t so rusty anymore. But you weren’t back in the game. Not one bit.

Then Jessica came to visit, claiming that she wanted you to see the progress in her pregnancy and catch up as friends. Which then led you to following her into another dimension to fight another Rhino, which was a great success.

Fuck, you missed this.

And you were tempted. You really were tempted to swing through your city as their Spider person again.

Maybe it wouldn’t hurt after all. Didn’t mean you had to face Miguel. Yes. That was fine.

In the next month forward, you had started your crime fighting as the spider person of your dimension. A new suit and refreshed skills, you felt unstoppable. You even brought out your dimension traveling bracelet. Just to go and visit Hobie and Jessica whenever. Just that.

Soon, Jessica took on a new protege. Spider-Gwen. She was a nice kid and started coming over to your dimension with Hobie whenever they had the time. You liked her alot. She was like a little sister whenever she came around. Same as Hobie being like a younger brother to you.

At one point you found yourself back at HQ—you were honestly terrible at keeping your steeled will—but only to return a few bad guys to their respectful dimensions. You had fully planned on avoiding Miguel—at this point you hadn’t seen each other since your spat a month ago—and going back to your dimension.

That was the plan at least.

“How come you never go with us to see Miguel?” Gwen asked while the two of you watched one of the villains being sent back to their dimension. “You two don’t get along or…?”

Spider-Byte snorted and you sent the hologram a glare, “They have a special history, newbie. You’ll see someday.”

“Quiet, kid.” You mumbled, crossing your arms before addressing Gwen, “Yeah…we don’t get along. It’s best for the both of us that we aren’t in the same room together, right now.”

“Is it?”

You tried your very best not to allow your face to fall into shock at his voice coming from behind you and Gwen. Really, you should’ve expected that to happen.

Miguel approached the two of you, glancing briefly toward Gwen but his eyes remained glued to yours. “Drew’s asking for you. Says she needs your help on Level 4.”

It took you a few seconds to realize he had been talking to Gwen as the blonde nodded her head and disappeared out of the room. Spider-Byte threw on some headphones and continued with her work. In other words, it was just the two of you. The very opposite of what you had planned and wanted.

“I hear you’ve been coming around here a lot more often.” Miguel mused as he brushed past you, his arm grazing yours as he did. You watched him, a lot less hostile than you thought you would be. Instead, you only stared at his back muscles. “I didn’t know you’ve become quite the contradicting person.”

You shrugged, hugging your arms closer to you, “I’ve just been helping Jess and Hobie out. S’not a big deal.”

A sound came from his throat, similar to a chuckle, “I also hear that the White Spider is back on the news.”

“You’ve been keeping tabs on me?” You instead said, one of your brows raising slightly. “When did you start that up again?”

Miguel glanced over his shoulder, his face unreadable, “Who says I ever stopped?”

You smirk, trying to hide how tight your chest felt at his words. At how soft his voice had gotten.

“Look who’s become contradicting now.”

Miguel was quiet at that.

You tried to continue your original goal after that frustratingly vague interaction. You weren’t really sure where you had stood with him after that. Sure, you still were hesitant to rejoin the society fully—mostly because of him—but now you were going on missions with some of the members and helping Jessica train her protégé. At this point, you were practically back, just without the official stuff.

And now you were on a mission with Miguel. You hadn’t been on one of these since your fight. Piece by piece you were just breaking your own promises, your stubbornness was weakening. Your spine had shaken.

Damn him.

No matter what you could never resist Miguel.

You could tell it was the same for him.

“You should go home.”

“Do you know how many times you’ve said that and I’ve still ended up staying?” You leaned on the doorway entrance to his quarters with a smug look on your face. “I think you should give it up by now.”

Miguel was topless. After a particularly long mission, a lot of the team had come out with some cuts and bruises, Miguel wasn’t exempt from that.

You watched as he was cleaning his wound on his left shoulder, only that put too much strain on his bruised side every time he reached his right hand over to tend to that shoulder. For a few more minutes you watched him keep going at it before you sighed and eventually stepped in.

“Stop.” You smacked his hand to the side gently and took the bloodied cloth from his hand.

Miguel tensed, “Domino—”

“I’ve got it.” You told him sternly. “We don’t need you reopening your stitches. Just relax. I’ve got you.”

Your words had disarmed him and caused him to loosen the tension in his muscles at your gentle touch. The wound wasn’t too bad, at least not as bad as the one under his right arm. Once the blood was wiped away, there was just a bit of purple coloring. The blood must’ve been from someone else.

His breaths fanned against your own shoulder. You didn’t forget how close the two of you were in that moment. It was more like you were trying to distract yourself from the fact.

Instead, a small smile tugged at your lip, “It’s been a minute since you’ve been injured.” You noted the light scars on the other parts of his arm.

“Not really.” Miguel grunted, ducking his head down as he rested his elbows on his knees. “I got hit a couple months back. Only difference was that you weren’t there to lick my wounds clean.”

“Do you always need me to?” You joked halfheartedly.

A small tug upward in his lip made your heart skip, “I would prefer it better than being alone.”

“I thought you liked being a loner.”

“Not these days.”

You knew you were treading dangerous territory but the question left your lips before you could rethink it through.

“Did you really want me to go?”

Underneath your fingers, you felt him inhale, slowly.

“Honest?”

You scoffed, “I wouldn’t be asking if I wanted to hear a lie.”

Over his shoulder, he stared at you. A part of you wanted to shift under his intense gaze, a part of you wanted to look away sheepishly but you bravely held it. Though the change in your grip was probably a dead giveaway at your nervousness.

“If it were up to me, you wouldn’t have ever left my sight.”

You tried not to feel too overwhelmed by his words, knowing it was your own fault for asking. For even bringing it up in the first place.

So instead you snorted, “Wow. Sounds awfully possessive—”

His other hand grasped the back of your neck and brought you toward him, your lips connecting. His desperation for you was clear. And your resolve had slowly fallen—no that was such a lie. It had quickly crumbled the moment you felt his touch, the moment his lips were on yours, the moment you felt his desperation sink into your skin just as easily as his fangs would.

When his larger body moved on top of you, you knew your resolve had fully broken. Completely gone. When his lips found your neck, you were gone. When his hips rutted against yours, your mind was gone. When you finally felt him sink into your being, when you felt him inside you—god you never realized how much you had wanted this until now.

No. You knew.

Miguel held your hands down to the bed sheets, only you managed to slip them from his grip and find them tugging and running through his hair, legs wrapped around his hips to pull him closer.

You felt him smirk against your neck, “My stubborn girl.”

And just like that you were back into a cycle in which you swore not to fall into again. Only, this time the two of you didn’t make it known to the others. It was a silent choice between the two of you to keep whatever this was to yourselves. It was better that way you realized.

But as time went by, you knew it would be a little more difficult to hide it. Miguel was touchy. It was fine on days where it was just the both of you, when the both of you were working on something together. Yet on the days where you are around others, such as missions, you know he can’t help himself. And neither can you.

The both of you were terrible at hiding it in the end.

Hobie was surprisingly observant.

“You’re lookin’ cozy now.”

You glanced up to find Hobie lounging about as you were looking at videos of different dimensions. “Let it go, B—”

“I ain’t sayin’ shit.” He shrugged. “Just noticed a few things is all.”

And the two of you left it at that. Never really spoke on it again. Hobie now knew. And Jessica had eyes and a brain, she probably already put two and two together. Especially with you coming to HQ a lot more often now. Even the newbie, Gwen, took double takes every now and then whenever she saw you and Miguel together.

“You seem particularly stressed tonight.” You hummed to him on another night—this time in your apartment, squirming as his cock twitched inside of you.

Miguel looked down at you, a brow raised in challenge, “Can’t take it tonight, baby? Usually you like it a little rough, hmm?” He buried his face into your neck, his thrusts slower than before. Gentle nips at your neck that would sure to leave bruises the next day. Just the way he liked it. The possessive shithead.

“And yet, you’re still stressed.” You whisper next to his ear, breathing out a sigh of pleasure.

Miguel grunted in reply and remained at your neck. Until he slowly pulled away to rest his forehead on yours. He sighed against your skin, “Just another anomaly. Nothing we can’t fix.”

You smiled with a soft hum, “You always do anyway.”

His lips were pressed into yours, a hint of a smile shaping his mouth, “Not just me.”

The anomaly problem never went away it seemed. Soon Miguel got buried deep into his work. You were fine with it, already used to his committed work habits. Besides, you had your own world to manage. You weren’t just waiting all night for him to come home like some girlfriend slowly practicing patience. No, instead you had your own thoughts to keep you busy. But you still managed to find time and visit HQ. To visit the others. To visit Miguel.

It wasn’t until the anomaly was formed into a single person. Another Spider-Man. A kid.

Miles Morales.

Gwen told you about him a few times. How he was the first friend she made after her Peter’s death. You remembered wanting to meet the boy with how much Gwen kept talking about him. And you told Gwen this as well. That they should plan a day to go visit him. Unfortunately, that day never came to fruition.

The unfortunate part was the why.

“What are you not telling me about this Miles guy?” You already knew the answer. You weren’t stupid. You just wanted to know if Miguel would tell you. Would trust you with the information.

Miguel had his back turned to you, facing the screens when you stalked into the room to ask him this. “He isn’t your concern.”

“Bullshit.” You cross your arms. “Clearly, you said something to Gwen. And Jess. Hell, even Hobie. What are you not telling me, Miguel? Why is Miles Morales so important?” You narrow your eyes challengingly, “Or rather, why does he make you so nervous—”

“Enough, Domino.” Miguel said through gritted teeth, trying desperately not to snap at you. “He isn’t your concern. Let it go.”

Hobie had already filled you in on the details before you had come to Miguel about it. The information in itself was troubling, yes. But what was even more troubling was why you were hearing it from someone else other than Miguel. Why did he want to keep you in the dark about this?

That’s when your eyes landed on the old video of him and his daughter. The daughter he lost on another Earth.

“Fine.” You frowned. “Don’t tell me.”

Miguel still had his back toward you. You scoffed and turned to leave. You would’ve been fine to leave it there. That was the one thing the two of you disagreed on the most. The canon stuff. Your sister had to die for it. That’s why Max had become what he had become. That’s why you had left the society, left him in the first place.

Restarting all of this. Thinking you could forgive.

But there was no way you could’ve ever forgotten.

You had to stand by and watch your sister die because it was a part of canon. Because Miguel cared for you and your world so much that he did not want to see it unravel like his did. A part of you wanted to believe that—maybe there was a small part that did—but that didn’t change the grief nor the terror. You just hoped.

Hoped. And hoped. And hoped….

Eventually, you did some research for yourself. Apparently, this Miles guy hadn’t lost his parents but his uncle. Apparently, he was supposed to lose his dad once he became captain. There was nothing you could do about it if it was supposed to happen. You certainly couldn’t tell him that was going to happen.

You couldn’t do anything….

Until you could.

Hobie appeared in the middle of your living room that night.

“I quit that place.” He shrugged, flopping down onto the couch next to you. “But I suggest you suit up, yeah?”

“Why?” You furrowed your brows, placing down your book you had been reading until he unexpectedly arrived.

“Because I ‘ave a good feelin’ you are the only person that wouldn’t like what’s about to happen. What’s currently happening.”

This time you frowned, an aching feeling tugging at your chest.

“Hobie. What’s going on?”

It wasn’t long until you were flying through the HQ, following all of the spider people as they chased after one thing. One person.

Nobody had known you were there. Nor what you were there for. You had blended into the crowd of spider people, flying around, swinging around until you spotted a blip of the boy that they were chasing. And you saw Miguel, Gwen, and Jessica going after him.

All that you knew was that he was alone. The boy was alone. He needed at least one person at his side. One person who understood what he was going through right then.

By the time you had gotten to the speeding trains, Miguel had Miles pinned down to the top of the train. He had yet to see you. But there was no doubt he would sense you. There was no doubt that he would see your flashing figure, zipping toward him. There was no doubt that in the corner of his eye, he would see you flying at him with a kick and landing it just perfectly, and in time before he could prepare to block you.

Now you stood in front of Miles as Miguel rolled away before clawing his hand into the top of the train to keep him on it.

You removed your mask and grinned, “Too slow, O’Hara!”

“Y/N!” Gwen stared at you in shock.

“Who’s that?!” One Spider-Man with a pink robe—and a baby—attached to him questioned in confusion.

Miguel crawled to his feet. In the corner of your eye Miles jumped off the train and disappeared in seconds. “What have you done?!”

You shrugged, “Nothing yet. That depends on you.”

“Y/N, don’t!” Jessica shouted. “You can’t beat him!”

Miguel’s face was twisted into a scowl, mixed with both betrayal and anger, “She’s right, Domino. You can’t win. You’re on the wrong side!”

You pulled your mask back on and melted into a fighting stance, “I don’t have to win. I just have to give the kid more time.”

For a brief second, the scowl was gone. This look was only for you to see. The same look he wore when you first quit the society.

They were back to where it all began. This was the cycle. It was bound to happen. You knew this. He knew this.

“I don’t want to fight you.” He gritted out. “Stand down, Domino. I’ll only ask this once.”

Not once did you budge.

“I hope we come back from this, Miguel.”

You dashed forward.

Miguel let out a roar of anger and dashed toward you.

The two of you would meet in the middle. And for a second, you really wondered…

Would you?

Would you come back from this?

#miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara fic #miguel o'hara one shot #across the spiderverse #spiderman 2099 #miguel o'hara across the spider-verse #spiderman atsv #marvel #hobie brown #jessica drew #gwen stacy #miles morales

7K notes · View notes

applejuicebegood · 15 days

Text

The Softest of Jason Todd HCs

Fem!Reader A/N: Some of these were originally conceived for the lovely, talented, wonderful @midnightorchids. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE FALLOW HER RIGHT NOW

Masterlist

Jason fell for you slowly. It was the kinda falling that took on the form of severe distraction and confusion during his patrol time. The only spot in his second life he had crafted into hours of precise control and expectancy. He hated how, as he was clicking a mag into his handgun, his mind would flash to your smiling, blushed face. He hated how you would unintentionally make him trip and stumble over the roof-tops of Gotham. He hated how recalling the chime of your laugh made his hands sweaty under his leather gloves. He hated how he had to take off his helmet in the seclusion of an abandoned wear-house because recalling how his hand slipped in to your on your last date made his face heat up to the point where he felt like he would pass out.

Once he realised that the nervous pounding in his gut whenever your shoulders brushed was in-fact caused from a growing crush on you, he panicked. The eventual confession was awkward and stumbled, him making it clear that he needed time and room to figure it out. He took your smaller hands into his, promising that no matter what, for now he would figure it out with you at his side. Of course you agreed, squeezing his hands in confirmation.

Ya'll are soulmates, period. Very big 'he is half of my soul' energy. Your bodies fit together like puzzle pieces. Your words have already been said by the other before you can string them together in your head. You share in each-others grief and rage. Five years into the relationship, Jason knew you so well (and being raised in a family of detectives) that you would never have to explain your frustration or annoyance - and on days like that he would always be ready to wrap you up in a weighted blanket, forcing a cup of raspberry tea into your cold hands and his headphones over your ears with one of his audiobooks already playing. Carrying you to your shared bed for you to fall asleep leaned up against his chest, his thick arms wrapped tightly around you.

Despite his availability of wealth and status, he keeps your date-night very low-key and personal. On his off days from Red-Hooding, both of you would have cooking nights. Where you would sway and giggle with the slow drift of music coming from the kitchen radio. You would make something hearty and filling. You wanting to see Jason sigh in the comfort of good food. You both would curl up with your steaming bowls on your couch, probably watching Tangled (at your request). It's all extremely cozy, Jason smiling into your skin as gratitude blooms in his chest for you. For having created this safe, hidden expanse of reassurance. All while the harsh Gotham wind whipped just outside your window.

This man is smitten- he worships you entirely. His is in awe of you, even as both of you grow old, his love and his care for you never relents or dwindles.

Ya'll would go to museums and art galleries and he would point at statues and paintings of goddess and queens and say 'you', under his breath. It's so horribly corny but it makes you hold his arm just a bit tighter every time.

After you both moved in together, he developed a habit of making your coffee alongside his and bringing it to you in bed in the mornings. This eventually just became your routine on weekends when you both had enough time to bask in the slow creeping of sunlight over each-others skin.

He's a romantic at heart, a part of him you had to slowly unearth under years of torment and blood. You were the one to force him out of his cave of isolation and into the reality of him deserving softness and joy. It's a dept you have assured him he doesn't need to pay back. That doesn't stop him from trying.

Giggles and smiles like a little boy if you kiss his forehead, specifically at the roots of his white streak. You think it's one of the prettiest things about him.

Unintentional scary dog when you guys are out together. He's got his hand laced with yours or floating somewhere on your hip or lower back. It's mostly due to his anxiety, constantly having his head on a swivel. It's all heightened due to the fact that he has the most precious, important individual standing next to him. Whether it's at one of his Dad's galla's or trips to the local library, he likes to have you near him.

Bitch has multiple playlists made about/for you (a lot of Noah Kahn and TV Girl)

Example:

A/N: I may be gay but I have a very special place for sappy Jason in my heart. Please send in any requests regarding our boy (or any of the bat boys or girls)- I really love writing for the people in this fandom.

742 notes · View notes

sagaduwyrm · 5 months

Text

DCxDP Idea - Tucker x Tim Soulmate AU:

Now on AO3

So the Justice League believes the Fentons and the GIW. Not completely, but enough. That’s the bad news. The worse news is that they have Danny, and are apparently planning to use him in some kind of spell to banish all the ghosts from the living plane. Which, okay, sure, not the worst idea, except that trying to banish a Liminal is a great way to kill them instead, and guess what everyone in Amity Park is? Not to mention what powering such a ritual could do to Danny.

Tucker is not having a panic attack. He might have one later, but right now he has a job to do.

So the thing about the Justice League is that they’re powerful and together they cover each other’s weaknesses, but individually they are, if not manageable, then at least survivable. They can’t take on the entire league, but Ghosts and their ilk have fangs for a reason, and every predator knows how to divide and conquer.

Technus and Skulker are using Lex Luthor’s tech to deal with the Supers. Jazz has got emotional manipulation and FrightKnight’s sword to take down the Flashes. Desiree agreed to start a mage’s duel with the Justice League Dark. Sam, Ember, Johnny, and Kitty hopefully have the watchtower in hand, with Walker playing backup to get Danny free.

Tucker has two jobs. One, work with Technus to take down the Justice League communications without making it look like anything is up. Two, for the love of the Ancients, do not let the Bats realize something is wrong.

And you know what? He’s got this. Duul Aman was the most feared sorcerer of his time. Tucker isn’t him, not really, but he’s no slouch in the magic department. Egyptian magic, the way Duul Aman knew it, was almost like code. Relearning it was as easy as breathing, but the real reason Tucker’s job is to deal with the bats is because he took it further than his last life ever could. Sure, he’s a dab hand at illusions, his curses are almost as nasty as Sam’s, and instant sandstorms are never not useful, but where he really thrives is with tech. Afterall, if ectoplasm can be combined with computers, why can’t magic?

Tucker is the world's first technomage and he’s goddamn proud of it.

It’s his saving grace now. Infiltrating Oracle’s system took weeks, and he still wasn’t able to look at or do anything important, but it was enough of an opening for his magic. He wormed his illusion through every single piece of bat-tech he could reach, whispering in their ear, Gotham needs you. The Justice League is fine. Gotham is where the problems are.

Weeks of work and sleepless nights, and he still doubts he’ll be able to keep them from noticing anything for more than a few hours. Luckily, by that time Danny will be free and Tucker will be long gone from Gotham.

This confidence lasts until he brushes hands with another guy in the cafe. He can feel the bond snap into place, a soulmark crawling across his body. Tim Drake stares at him, eyes wide but sharp.

Tim Drake.

Red Robin.

Shit.

Time to see whether fighting ghosts extends to fighting humans, because he is not letting this asshole mess up Danny’s rescue.

+++

The first thing Tim notices when he meets his soulmate is the rage in the man’s eyes.

They’re really pretty eyes. A bright, glowing gold, lined in kohl. Almost certainly a sign of magic.

They look at him like the man wants to turn him inside out and burn the remains. Tim’s a little offended, beneath the shock and awe.

“Fuck,” the man hisses. Tim’s offense is starting to supersede his surprise. He’s a catch, thank you very much.

He says as much. The man laughs, and it’s almost friendly. The cafe is empty. The people of Gotham have good instincts, and there’s something in the air around this man that puts Tim’s hackles up.

“You know, I think that’d be more believable if you hadn’t started this.”

Tim’s brow wrinkled. He felt like he’d remember starting something with his soulmate though? What was he supposed to have started, anyway? Saying ‘this’ wasn’t very specific.

He rolled and dodged to avoid the sudden lash of golden sand. Ah. A fight. He could do that. Figure out why his soulmate was angry later, defeat him now.

He reached up to call for backup and only got static.

Shit.

He was on his own. Time to show this bastard why underestimating a bat was a bad idea.

#There's a part two to this now #Check the notes #Enemies to Lovers #potentially #Tim’s gotta put some work in #Tucker’s usually pretty chill but…#fandom #danny phantom #dpxdc #dp x dc #batman #fandom stuff #dc #tucker foley #tim drake #Tucker/Tim #technogeek

1K notes · View notes

navstuffs · 1 year

Text

DO IT FOR HIM

Pairing: Leon Kennedy x GN!Reader

Summary: Leon catches a particular item on your stuff.

Warnings: cute, two idiots in love, FLUFFY FLUFF, comedy, domestic!leon

Author's Notes: inspiration for this came from The Simpsons obvs and this amazing artwork from @emahriel. thank you so much giving me the honor to use it for my little fic! you should all check her blog, she has amazing artwork! i hope this fills your day with joy as much as i had fun writing it!

my leon's masterlist

"What is that?"

You and Leon have been cleaning your bedroom. The idea came from you: to let the energy flow around the house by donating and throwing away old items. Well, you were, at least. Leon is lying in bed, still wearing pajama pants and a shirt, although it is 4 pm. He deserves his rest, he says, and you agree. Because only Leon looks gorgeous in simple grey pants and a white shirt with a hole in the armpits. No complaints on your side.

"What is that?" Leon asks as you sit on the floor, surrounded by old stuff "That. Right there," Leon points, and your eyes follow. It is just your old collection of mangas.

"This?"

"No, behind it. That small little glass frame. What is on it?"

Small little glass…oh, crap. You immediately realize what it is, your stomach twisting. You thought you threw away that long ago before you and Leon moved together. It was a cute piece you made for yourself when you met him, feeling like a teenager in love again. It was never in your plans for Leon to see it.

"No-nothing. It's probably an old art project of mine," You try to place the frame with its face down, thinking of a way to get rid of it, before Leon, faster than you, is at your side, pulling from your hands. "Wait, Leon!"

When Leon turns the frame around, he paralyzes. It is his face. There are numerous pictures of him smiling, looking seriously at the camera, and even admiring the background scenery. There were a few of his younger self as well. And behind it, written in your handwriting in big black bold letters, DO IT FOR HIM. Leon looks at you, a smile appearing on his face, and he feels his cheek heat up.

You don't see that, your face hidden behind your hands. It was just a silly thing you did to help you during work. You placed it on your table to remind yourself to stay strong, even when things got hard.

You peek between your fingers to see Leon isn't in there anymore. Well, there you cringed the man of your life, and he probably regretted marrying you. Or, knowing Leon, he left to give a good laugh without embarrassing you.

Leon comes back, his wallet in his hands. You wait until he sits by your side and hands you the wallet.

"Open it."

You do as you are told, feeling Leon's gentle stare. You hadn't seen anything special in his wallet before besides cards and ID. You look up, and he motions for you to open his wallet. You do it, finding a small folded piece of paper.

"What is this?" You ask, cautious.

"Unfold it."

You wrinkle your forehead, opening the paper and looking at him surprised. It is one of the first pictures you took together after Raccoon City, and you just started dating. Although it was supposed to be a selfie together, Leon accidentally cut himself almost entirely out of the picture, focusing on you and your big happy smile. The paper seemed to have been folded and unfolded plenty of times. When you look at Leon, his face visibly red now, he confesses, his voice low.

"Helped a lot in dark times, believe me."

"Why this one specifically?"

"It was the first time you told me you loved me. I like to remember that."

Without being able to control yourself anymore, sniffling, you throw yourself in Leon's arms, hiding your face on his neck.

"Are you crying?" Leon wonders with a smile. When you don't answer, he rubs your back, whispering in your ear, "I still love you as much as that day."

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon x reader #leon x you #leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x you #leon kennedy #leon kennedy fanfic #leon kennedy fanfics #leon kennedy fluff #leon kennedy imagines #leon kennedy imagine #is this my apology for writing emptiness? no not really lol

3K notes · View notes

ellecdc · 3 months

Note

HI HI i recently read “the winner takes it all” and i was wondering if you’re planning to create a part 2? if you don’t, can i request it with the plot of emmeline trying to win n the boys over, as well as to embarrass the reader, but the boys decided it was the perfect time to hard launch the reader?

BUT IF YOU ALREADY HAVVE A. PLOT IN MIND PLS DONT LISTEN TO ME I LOVE UR FICS!! 💕💕🫶🏻

You know, I actually didn't plan on making a companion piece to this but this was such a fun idea I couldn't help myself - thanks for requesting!!! 💖

*chanting* hard launch, hard launch, hard launch 👏 👏 👏

Poly!Marauders x reader (gender not specified)

The Loser Has to Fall

Companion piece to The Winner Takes It All

It felt like a giant weight had been lifted off your shoulders now that you knew exactly where you stood with the boys. You didn’t realize how deeply it had been distressing you to not know what you meant to them.

Apparently, you meant the world to them.

You spent the rest of that evening in the Gryffindor common room; James and Remus ran down to the kitchens to bring a picnic for you four and Sirius told you to enjoy the princess treatment when you insisted on going with them. You’re pretty sure that was just a ruse to keep you seated in his lap.

You were floating on cloud 9 the entire week afterwards with one of the boys by your side at any given moment. While that wasn’t necessarily new, knowing why they were there made a world of difference.

You spent hours in the library with Remus sharing shy glances, gentle touches, and sitting far closer to one another than was strictly necessary.

James and Sirius would show up with food or drinks for you two, but Sirius would eventually convince James to “leave the boring swots to their books, Prongsie” by promising him a race around the quidditch field on their brooms.

James made a solid (and embarrassing) effort to sit beside you everywhere. Great Hall – he sat beside you. Gryffindor common room – he sat beside you. Classes you had together – he sat beside you. Classes you didn’t have together – he tried to sit beside you before Flitwick took five points from Gryffindor and kicked him out.

And Sirius appeared to simply enjoy your presence. One rarely ever saw Sirius Black without him speaking, smirking, or the likes; but it appeared he enjoyed your company for the solace that it was. Most of your time spent together was in companionable silence, or him asking you to tell him all about your day, your week, your life. James said he was sure this was the longest he'd ever gone without having to listen to Sirius’ voice – Sirius swatted his ass for that.

But the way the rest of the school saw it: nothing had changed.

Which is why when you watched Emmeline approach the Gryffindor table with a look of determination painting her features, you had to hide your laugh behind your hand.

“Hello, handsome boys.” She said cheerily as she sat beside Sirius. He looked to James sat across from him before his eyes shot to you.

“Hello, Emmeline.” James said politely.

“Where have you boys been? I feel like I never get to see you anymore.” She carried on, either unaware or undeterred by the boys’ lack of interest.

“Mm, here and there.” James said suspiciously, moving his body so he was sat straddling the bench and facing you, effectively pointing his back to Emmeline.

“Mostly with Y/N.” Sirius added pointedly.

Emmeline grimaced at the mention of your name, but quickly saved face.

“That’s nice. Well, I was wondering if you guys were going to Hogsmeade this weekend?” She asked, voice sickly sweet.

James seemed to remember something at the mention of Hogsmeade. “Actually, yeah. Moons, you need more chocolate, right?”

Remus blushed a little but nodded in the affirmative. “We’re running low since someone stress ate most of the reserve.” He said pointedly, shooting Sirius a glare.

Apparently, Sirius had been so nervous about asking you to be official (Sirius Black: nervous? Who knew?) that he’d ransacked Rem’s stash.

Sirius – not one to be shame-faced – shrugged with all the nonchalance he could muster. “Don’t worry your pretty little mind, my moonshine – I’ll replenish your reserves and then some.” He declared.

“Great!” Emmeline said with a clap of her hands, clearly unable to manage the conversation as it steered further and further away from her. “I was thinking the four of us could go together!”

She had placed one of her hands on Sirius’ bicep and you felt your face turn red from repressing your laughter. Lily would be losing her mind right now.

Sirius looked at the hand with a look of half confused concern and half disgust before he used the forefinger and thumb of his opposite hand to peel it off of him and place it gingerly onto the table.

“Well, I know that the four of us were going to go.” James clarified as he motioned between himself, Sirius, Remus, and you. “I’m sure Lily, Pete and the others will be going as well, so you’re welcome to ask to tag along with them.”

Undeterred, Emmeline carried on. “Come on, boys. We used to have a lot of fun together! I thought we could pick up where we left off.” She sing-songed as she sent you a devious wink.

Sirius – with his flair for dramatics – slammed both hands onto the table and stood from his place before hopping onto the table, boots knocking over glasses and plates and reached down for you.

“What?” You whispered in a little bit of horror.

“Up you go, my love.” He said loudly as he hauled you up to join him on the Gryffindor table.

“Mr. Black.” You heard one of the professors call from the head table. You never fully understood the phrase die of embarrassment before, but you sure as hell did now. Your gravestone would read: Y/N L/N, gone too soon, killed by dramatic public display of affection.

Sirius, completely oblivious to your horror or thriving off of it (you were sure it was the latter), wrapped one arm around your shoulders and the other around your waist - dipping you so low you were sure your hair was getting into someone’s pancakes - and kissed you in front of the entire Great Hall.

You could hear cheering and wolf whistles as he kept you suspended for a few moments before he pulled you back up to your full height.

“I am so bloody mad about you.” He shouted out for everyone to hear. More students cheered and whistled as Professor McGonagall shouted “Mr. Black, get down this instant! 15 points from Gryffindor and detention with me tonight.”

“Worth it.” Sirius said with a smirk as he shot a glance to Emmeline.

“In case that wasn’t clear enough, we’re very taken.” He added with finality as Remus helped you down from your place on the table and Sirius took your previously vacated seat beside James, and Emmeline stalked off.

You shoved your face into Remus’ side as he offered you refuge under his arm.

“Oh, my poor dovey. Did he embarrass you?” He cooed as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

You moaned in a way you hoped portrayed a resounding ‘yes’.

“I’m sorry. They’re the worst sometimes.” He commiserated with you.

Feeling slightly less flustered, you pulled your head away from his ribs, though you stayed glued safely to his side.

“You weren’t innocent in all of that, doll face.” Sirius accused you from across the table.

“I beg your pardon?” you asked feigning innocence.

“You knew exactly what she was doing when she came over here. You didn’t feel the need to mark your territory?”

You scoffed. “First of all, I’m not a dog; I don’t ‘mark’ territory. Second, you’re not my territory, you’re my boyfriends. And thirdly… well, you seemed to have handled her fine on your own.” You said as you pointed your nose up in the air.

“Ah, I get it. You just wanted to watch your sexy man turn down a girl by stating how madly in love he is, hm?” He smirked at you.

You suddenly wished you’d stayed in Remus’ rib cage.

#poly!marauders imagine #poly!marauders #poly!marauders x reader #poly!marauders x you #poly!marauders fluff #marauders ficlet #marauders era #marauders au #marauders fanfiction #marauders blurb #james potter fluff #Sirius black fluff #Remus Lupin fluff #reader insert #self insert #ask elle #ellecdc fics

1K notes · View notes