#as i could be not thinking of some cool names that could be on my list

[lvndosnorris]

heyyy i love ur writing ! could you please do riding lando in your fav of his cars headcanons ??

🫶🏻🫶🏻

i love this concept so much — thank you for requesting my lover 🫂

lando's grip on your thigh didn't falter once

not even when you changed his music that was humming through the radio, or when you'd told him that you and oscar were only messing around

jaw tense he ignored your fingers tracing over the back of his hand, watching him through the corner of your eye as he failed to make the right turns back to your house

just simply driving — silently, heart thrumming in his chest as he clicked his tongue against his teeth

"you should make it up to me, shouldn't you?"

his question baring not much sense as the engine finally cut, the leather becoming sticky beneath the backs of your thighs as he pulled his hand back

and before you knew it you were on his lap, the driver's sear retreated back as he gazed at you

eyebrow arched, an unamused frown toying on his lips as he almost waited for you to take initiative and do something that proved your antics earlier that night were nothing but a joke

"i was just messing baby, it wasn't nothing serious, you know that right?"

your lips trailing over his jaw, nipping at the spot just beneath his ear as your boyfriend stirred beneath you

it didn't take much time before you were yanking your shirt off, lifting upwards slightly to help undo his trousers

the clinking of his belt the only sound apart from the shared heavy panting

lando didn't need to say much more — simply trailing his forefinger down the valley between your breasts, gazing at you with a blank stare as you pouted playfully

trailed down beneath your thighs his hands would cup you, handling you in a position that had your bare chest against his and your foreheads touching

intimate through his movements and the lack of space

despite being in public, simply pulled over on the side of the road in a quietened area, he had no qualms about getting what he wanted

what he deserved

a fist wrapped at the base of his cock as he ran it over your heat, hot air fanning over his face as you practically purred at the feeling

usually he'd warm you up a little more — stretch you with his fingers, make sure he got a taste before filling you

but this time was different

it was rushed

needier as he slipped just the tip in

"maybe this is all you're getting, all you're worth. do you think you deserve more angel?"

even though he asked you he knew that you're answer was pointless to him

using your hips as leverage to drag you up and down his length, vision not once leaving your face

one hand pressed against the glass of the window he swallowed back a moan, suppressing the urge to drop the annoyed jealous boyfriend act to call you his pretty little thing

giving into his temptations at long last as he bucked up to meet the slow movements halfway, wincing as his cock kissed your cervix delightfully

there was a slight sting, one that flashed over your features as you whined his name

drawling it out as you knew it would cause a frenzy to erupt in lando's mind

and it did

the sound of leather squeaking as he picked up the pace he was fucking up into you at, your back arched as your head fell back in waves of pleasure

"lando— someone will see—"

pathetic attempts at trying to gain some composure overtaken by your cunt squeezing him, almost sucking him into you, desperate to have him deeper as you felt the cool of the steering wheel tickle your back

[jup1ter33]

Boothill headcannons

sfw + nsfw! 🔞 brings up his past so be prepared to hear about that😥

sfw

he is so goofy with you, always bickering and starting something just to get on your nerves.

he means no harm though, just playful banter.

he's a wee bit touch starved, so he adores it when he can hold you and kiss you

no body better try and hurt you unless they'd like a bullet between the eyes from him.

he has no problem firing his gun at anyone who dares to hurt you, whats a few more credits on his bounty??

when you first learned about what happened on his home planet, you didn't know how to respond. you could see the pain in his eyes, but he would try and dismiss it.

that same night, he ended up bawling his eyes out on your shoulder. the words "I miss my baby... my daughter." spouted from his lips. he was sure that he couldn't cry anymore, but with you, he felt such security, a safe haven for himself.

he'd have nightmares often. he'd abandon his charging station to come lay with you clutching you to his chest in fear that he'd loose you too.

but moments with boothill are rarely sad. In fact, he's typically enthusiastic and playful with you.

he's a charmer, calling you cute names and what-not.

he'd remove his hat and place it on your head while he kisses you.

being a galaxy ranger, he would often have to leave for weeks at a time. he'd give you a piece of his clothes, or a pin off his jacket, or some flowers before he left. he'd give you a deep hug, resting his head ontop of yours and taking in your scent before he has to leave.

on his trips he'd send you photos of the scenery, or some cool monuments, or anything he'd think would interest you.

he'd text you good morning and good night every day, saying how he misses you

on those days where he gets back in the middle of the night, he'd find you sleeping in the bed on his side, the blankets pulled up to your chin.

he's quietly snuggle his way in, cradling you in his arms.

buttttt, when he gets back in the morning, you better be ready to go out and have some fun.

he'll give you a gift he picked out for you, take you out drinking or to some random restaurant. sure, he'd get stares, but he didn't care.

he's so good with kids, he plays with them all the time and scolds them when they've been naughty.

he used to play guitar with his little girl, but now that his hands are metal, he has trouble getting his fingers to press on the fret board correctly:(

nsfw

oh boy, be prepared to hear this man

he's so whiny, he whimpers and moans so loud.

one of his absolute favorite things is to eat you out. the only human part of him left is his face, so being burried in between your thigh, your warm cunt pressed against his mouth, he can feel so much of it. it sends his fans whirling from the feeling of skin-to-skin.

and the pet names, he never runs out of them. darlin', sweetheart, buttercup, the list goes on and on.

because of his synestheisa beacon, it's hard for him to give you really any degrading words.

"T-take it like the cutie you are..."

he ends up getting frustrated and decides that maybe until he can get that solved, he won't use those words on you.

wondering how his dick works? yeah me too.

he'd probably have a silicone skin layer underneath his metal "armor" so I'd assume that his girth would be made of that. (there's no way it's metal that would be torture 😭)

boothills hair is sensitive, like before, his head is the only human part of him left. giving him a good tug makes him groan and jolt.

manhandles you. not exactly intentionally, but because of his cyborg body, it's hard for him to remember that he's alot tougher than you are, and he doesn't mean it in a way that your weak, (because your not) but because he simply gets so worked up he accidently will toss you around a bit.

he's had his fair share of experience, mostly before be was a cyborg, so he'll test things out on you.

he'll watch and see if your reaction to his metallic fingers prodding at your hole, would his fingers be too hard for your liking? would they be too big? he'd be observant in the way he works thru things with you.

until he met you, he didn't know that this charging port was a little sensitive.

he was being rough with you, as a result, your arms wrapped around his body in pleasure, clawing at his back. on accident, your fingers slipped into the charging port on his lower back, and he came on the spot.

he was soooooooo embarrassed.

"i-i...darlin' I didn't know that could even happen to me..." You assured him that it was fine, and that it was rather hot.

he'll find himself on his hands and knees, his port being teased from your Skillful hands and he melts. he whimpers and moans so loud, already on his 3 orgasm.

kinda hard to overstim him, he doesn't feel alot through his metallic skin, but if you make him cum a few times, he gets so whiny and needy.

he's mostly a top, he prefers to have you wrapped around his finger. literally.

but in the case that he decided to be a bottom, he cries your name, telling you how good it feels, how much he loves you, all the things he wants to do to you. he really can't shut up.

after you two finish, he lays next to you for a moment, allowing his fans to cool his overheating body down, and for you to regain your breath.

"so...how'd I do?" He'd ask with a cheek grin on his face. he knows he did good, but he wants to hear it straight from you.

he'll run you a shower or bath, whichever you prefer. but since he doesn't exactly need to shower (and it makes him rust) he'll stay on the outside. helping you with whatever you'd need.

and while your busy washing up, he'll clean off himself with his cleaning kit, oil his fingers and joints, make sure he didn't screw up his alignment.

once you're done, he won't allow you to lift a finger. he'll change the sheets, get you food or a drink, dress you, help you with your skincare, everything. since his body is robotic, he can just charge and won't get sore. he wants to make sure that he didn't mess you up too badly.

once everything is done, he'll lay you in bed ever-so gently.

he'll cuddle up next to you, burrowing his face into your chest, listening for your heartbeat. yes, it brings him pain that he no longer has a beating heart, but as long as he can lay with you and hear yours, to know you're safe, all is well.

[yamujiburo]

Do you think you could info dump all that you know about Madame Boss and Mayomoto with drawings? I would love to know more about their dynamic and about young Giovanni with baby Jessie. Maybe Delia could ask Jessie about it in a comic? Would it be sad or nostalgic? Maybe both? Like a flashback or something would be cool! Anyway, love your art and everything that you do!! ❤️

I'm not sure I can get it out in just drawings (just because it's a lot) but I have quite a few I've already done if you wanna look through my tags~ I'll also explain a bit here with some of my old comics. Long post under the cut~

Canonically, Madame Boss is the founder of Team Rocket and Giovnanni's mother. Miyamoto was one of her elite agents and Jessie's mother. They're REALLY close as evidenced by how they talk to one another (ex. Madame Boss calling Miyamoto "Miyamoto chan", Miyamoto's informal way of speaking to Madame Boss despite her being her superior, their friendly banter, etc.). Madame Boss sends Miyamoto and two other Team Rocket members on a mission to find Mew, but she and the other members never return. Miyamoto's implied to still be alive, endlessly chasing Mew with Jessie as her north star and reason to keep going. Madame Boss passes away sometime between the radio drama and before the events of the first Pokémon Movie. You can listen to the whole drama here! Madame Boss and Miyamoto are primarily in the first part, but Miyamoto pops up at the end of each of the other parts at different periods of time.

This is more where my headcanons begin! Miyamoto, whose dub name I hc being (Calamity) Jane, joined Team Rocket mostly because of her not great circumstances. She works her way up the ladder quickly and impresses Madame Boss. They become close but at the time, Miyamoto was dating a charismatic performer/con man that MB, not so subtly, doesn't approve of. She was right to not approve as this man got Miyamoto pregnant but left her before he'd known.

Madame Boss, despite her penny pinching behavior (Team Rocket wasn't that big yet), does what she can to help out Miyamoto. They had to tread carefully though, they didn't want anyone thinking there was any sort of favoritism happening.

Jessie is born, and for a little while Miyamoto keeps her and raises her the best she can. On more short term missions she'd leave her with Madame Boss, who's not super fond of children, and would have her own son Giovanni watch her (or have another grunt in Team Rocket watch her). This wasn't sustainable, so Miyamoto quickly puts Jessie in foster care (the foster care part is canon). Miyamoto would still visit her daughter whenever she could.

Ultimately, Miyamoto was a very driven, one track minded woman. She would constantly go on missions and after discovering Mew, became obsessed. It was around this time Madame Boss was starting to catch feelings for Miyamoto. Miyamoto would play along but was not nearly as invested in their relationship is Madame Boss was. Not in a malicious or leading on sort of way, she just had a job she wanted to get done

When it was time for Miyamoto to go on the mission to actually find Mew, Madame Boss, while excited at the prospect of getting her hands on a legendary Pokémon and the money that came with that, began to worry in the days leading up to the mission and tried to get Miyamoto to stay. She offered to send a different team out. To her they were disposable, but Miyamoto wasn't. Miyamoto didn't take the offer, wanting the glory and money of finding Mew for herself (but also had a daughter she wanted to get back to and be able to provide for). She leaves and goes MIA

Madame Boss is brokenhearted and after several years of Miyamoto going missing, is not able to run Team Rocket, troubled by the immense amount of guilt and heartache, and Giovanni takes over. She remains in the organization, more so operating in the background. It was rare for agents to see her out and about. But years later she sees Jessie's joined Team Rocket as a trainee. She requests Viper and Giovanni keep an eye out for her. Viper doesn't know why but does as he's told. Giovanni understands, remembering Jessie as the little toddler he'd have to take care of many years ago as well as her mother Miyamoto, who he knew was very close to his mother.

Not too long after, Madame Boss passes away but Giovanni keeps his promise and continues to keep Jessie employed.

I don't think Jessie remembers much of her mom or anything from around this time. I don't think she even remembers her mom being in Team Rocket or Giovanni babysitting her. She just remembers her mother leaving and never coming back and holds some resentment, not knowing the context of why Miyamoto disappeared.

I've thought about doing a story where Miyamoto returns in my hanamusa au but I still gotta think it out more. It starts with Miyamoto stopping by Delia's restaurant and she and Delia talk, not knowing the little connection they have via Jessie.

[pixiesfz]

old friend from school t.m x r

plot: you recently move to England after living in Australia your whole life

warnings: some facts could be wrongs, there is one point in this where the r does something and if I saw it in real life I would cringe

You had finally set up your new apartment, taking photos of it to send to your mum who was eager to see your décor skills. Your heart was bumping, you had officially moved to Europe, something you had always wanted to do since you were seventeen.

Australia was great and you loved the setting and the atmosphere but you always yearned to be somewhere where you could always have a fresh start.

Plus, you were pretty sure the girls in Europe love the Aussie accent.

“This looks sick” Your best friend Emily piped up from behind you, letting herself in “yeah?” you asked and she nodded “Looks ready for a housewarming party” She smirked and you shook your head

“no”

“Oh c’mon! You need more friends other than me and some girls from high school moved here as well”

You huffed “We never talked to those girls” you hummed and she crossed her head “We talked to Teagan”

You whipped your head up “Teagan’s in Europe?” you asked and your best friend smirked “Yep, she just started playing in the WSL” she proudly said “Do you both still talk?” you asked and she shrugged “when we bump into each other at gatherings, we talk about you sometimes”

You tensed “Why?” your question made your best friend laugh “Oh I don’t know maybe because you were both madly in love with each other”

You scoff “No we were not”

“Yes you were and then you pussied away because you got scared”

You gave your friend a pointed glare “She was going to UCLA for college, I was going to Latrobe University in Melbourne, it wouldn’t have worked”

“So you admit you did have feelings for her?”

“Emily!”

“What,” she said innocently, and you grumbled “It’s been almost seven years, I’ve had girlfriends since then and she probably has to”

“To be fair you haven’t seen each other since, have you even talked online?”

Guilt washed over you as you remembered her name popping up on your phone and you ignoring it “no” you said and your best friend nodded, a silence going over your apartment.

“Well, you still need more friends”.

“Is this how I’m going to make new friends?” you ask Emily as you walk into Prenton Park where the game would be played “I have some friends here that want to meet you” she says simply and you rolled your eyes “All right fine”.

“Who’s playing again?” You ask and your friend shuffled her feet “Chelsea and Liverpool” You nodded “Cool, I was more of an Arsenal fan but-“ “That’s only because they have the most Aussies” your friend interrupted you and you shrugged “Don’t hate me because I love my country”

You were completely fine until the teams ran out, you were next to Liverpool's side of the tunnel and watched everyone run out with a small “woo” on your behalf.

You watched the back of their heads as they all ran, unbeknownst to you your best friend watching you with a smirk, waiting for Liverpool’s goalkeeper to turn around so you could see her face.

Your eyes followed the goalkeepers head, she reminded you of someone from back home.

“Don’t you think that-“

Your voice stopped as she turned around, clapping to the fans. Teagan as beautiful as ever with her hair up, she had obviously died it blonde recently. Your mouth was agape from shock as Emily giggled from aside from you, waving to some of the girls in the team.

“When you said you wanted me to meet your friends I think you forgot to mention they were in the team”

“I’m full of surprises”

You rolled your eyes but felt like hiding behind the gate, which had holes in it so your presence would still be seen, your next option was to use your scarf as a mask but the perfume you had sprayed on it was strong and you think it might kill you if you held it there for the whole game.

“You also forgot to mention Teagan’s team was Liverpool, I assumed Man United or City”

“I thought you wouldn’t come if I said so”

You just hummed and nodded, agreeing with her. In all fairness, you probably would’ve.

You leaned down to rummage through your bag as your friend tapped your back “What?”

“someone’s looking at us” she whispered and you shot your head up in protectiveness, assuming it was a creepy man “Who?” you asked and you were met with the eyes of your old friend from school.

She raised her brows in shock as she held on to the ball, her teammates asking her to throw it back but she was frozen solid “fuck” you mumbled under your breath and you were sure she did the same.

She looked older, but you knew that from a now and then stalk on her social media and you thought she may have been thinking the same.

You felt like you had been staring at her for five minutes before her teammate yanked the ball out of her hands, taking you both out of your trances as you shot your head to Emily.

“Well, that was a bit hard to watch”.

It was after the first half you got really into the game, you had to admit Teaghan was playing extremely well, Number 33 for Chelsea had been firing shots and she was deflecting almost all of them, you couldn’t help but cheer loudly.

It reminded you back in high school when she invited you to all her games, especially in her young Matilda’s games, those were her favourites, and she loved representing her country.

“You’re not mad at me are you?” Your friend asked, slightly guilty by her actions “Depends on if I make a fool of myself in front of the team” you smirked, knowing that you would be extremely nervous meeting them.

When the two teams came out again you cheered loudly for Liverpool, you and Emily sharing a Liverpool scarf as a cameraman shot a video of you both.

Your eyes fell on Teagan as she took her spot in front of the net, she looked nervous as she fiddled with her gloves. This win meant a lot to them apparently, Chelsea was a big team in the WSL, they win a lot and can be described as 'cocky’ at least by Emily.

You thought back to High school when you went to her games and took a deep breath before using your hands and putting them at the sides of your mouth.

“Let’s go Teagzy!” you yelled out to her before clapping, something you used to yell out to her every game.

The girl looked up at your voice immediately, shocked that you’d even speak up. She nodded and smiled to herself nonetheless and got ready before Chelsea got the ball into their forward line.

The cheers grew louder each and every time Teaghan made a save and you and Emily couldn’t help but stand up and cheer when the whistle blew.  

After celebrating the win the players started to walk around the pitch, interacting with fans and family.

Some of the girls went straight to Emily who introduced you to them “Where’s Teaghan?” Emily asked and the girls looked around “I think she went straight into the tunnel” one girl said and you nodded, Emily looked back at you, guilt practically written on her face.

“She said she wanted to see someone though” one of the girls piped up “An old friend from school she said,” another one said and you smiled “Okay”

“I’m having some girls over tonight at mine if you guys want to come,” Emily said and all the girls nodded

“just please don’t bring any Chelsea girls I think I might drunkenly piss them off”.

You were late to Emily’s.

You didn’t mean to, usually you are the first to an event but you caught yourself stuck in your wardrobe figuring out what to wear.

To tight.

To revealing.

To colourful.

Not revealing enough.

You finally settled on jeans and a nice top, bringing a win with you as you knocked on the door to see an already tipsy Emily.

“Teaghan!”

Well maybe more than Tipsy.

The girl quickly grabbed you by your hand and searched the room, you tried to follow her eyesight but she was too quick before she pushed you toward someone making you squeal.

It didn’t seem like the other girl was prepared either but with her quick reflexes she grabbed your waist with one hand and your hand that held the wine in the other.

“uh hello”

Your eyes widened as you looked up to Teaghen, recognizing her voice.

“I am going to kill her,” you said before pulling your arms away, your high school crush immediately coming back at the feeling of her skin brushing yours

“You’d rather kill your best friend than talk to me”

You dropped your mouth into an ‘o’ shape “No I wanted to talk to you, really I just thought maybe after one or two drinks that maybe I could have the confidence to“ You stopped after seeing her grinning smirk on her face “Teaghan” you deadpanned and she laughed “I’m only kidding with you”

“I needed to talk to you too”.

You slightly blushed at her saying ‘needed’ but you looked away “It’s been a while since I’ve seen you” you hummed and she nodded “seven years to be exact” she added on and you grimaced “How was UCLA?” you asked and she smiled “It was great, a bit rocky at first but I got into it, found some life long friends” you smiled “that’s great and obviously your living your dream now”

She smiled “I wouldn’t say dream-“ “oh shut up”

She laughed softly before gesturing her drink to you “What’s brought you here on a holiday?” she asked and you shook your head “not a holiday, I’m here for good” you said proudly and she raised her brows “oh shit” she laughed “well warning for the weather but from memory you like the cold” she smiled and you agreed.

A silence went over and you grimaced, remembering what you had done to her after high school.

“I’m sorry,” you said and she looked at you “What?” “For after school, I just- you were moving to America for four years and I was still at home I just got scared” you trailed off and the girl nodded “Oh”

“yeah” you murmured, looking away before the soccer player turned your head back to her “After a while I realised, my roommate Jessie kinda yelled at me for being upset and then I got scared and never communicated back”

“Jessie seems nice”

“She’s Canadian”

“Sounds about right” you both laughed and you grabbed your wine “I’m going to open this,” you said, a bit awkwardly if you said so yourself “Do you want me to come?” Teaghan asked and you smiled “Yes please”.

“I did that!” Emily yelled as you both walked by her, the two of you just laughing at your friends antics.

[azzifudd]

possession

paige bueckers x azzi fudd

summary: four times paige & azzi knew they belonged to each other

rated: teen

2.5k words

disclaimer: many made up events obviously

[AO3 LINK]

The ball swishes through the net, nearly soundless in the empty gym. Azzi has been taking shots for the past three minutes. She hasn’t missed yet.

She had arrived at the UConn campus only 15 minutes ago, to surprise Paige for her birthday, and after nearly five minutes of hugging, that Azzi is sure Paige would’ve turned into more if her parents hadn’t been there, she had been dragged to the gym where the other girls were in recovery after a strenuous practice.

Paige had left her in the gym, promising to be back soon with the others, and Azzi had picked up a ball to pass the time. As she takes another jumpshot, one of the doors bangs open and she flinches. Her shot goes wide, bouncing off the back of the rim.

Two boys have entered the gym, and Azzi vaguely recognizes them. One of them rebounds her ball and brings it over to her.

“Hey, I don’t think I’ve seen you around before. I’m Andre. I’m on the men’s basketball team.”

She’s heard Paige mention him once or twice.

“Y’know if you want any pointers with your jumper, I could help you out.” His eyes run over her, from head to toe.

“What’s your name?” He asks, overeager.

“Azzi,” she replies, fighting the urge to roll her eyes.

“Dude, that’s Azzi. Bueckers’ girl.” His friend has come up beside them, after hearing Azzi introduce herself.

Azzi feels a flush overtake her entire body. Part of her almost wants to be offended that this boy, on one of the top college teams in the nation, didn’t recognize her. She’s the number one high school player in the nation, and it’s not even close. But another part of her, a bigger part of her, loves that so many miles away from home, a complete stranger hears her name and knows she’s Paige’s.

“Oh shit, you’re Paige’s Azzi. Azzi Fudd!” Andre covers his mouth and groans. “I was trying to teach you how to shoot.”

His teammate cackles beside him, slapping him on the back. “She’s been in three point contests with Steph Curry, my guy, I think she’s good.”

“Damn, that’s embarrassing. I’m so sorry.”

She smiles up at him, now charmed by the whole thing. “It’s cool, I didn’t know who you were either.”

“Oh! She got your ass.” His friend laughs again before turning to her and introducing himself. “I’m James.”

“Azzi.” They shake hands.

“Like I said, I know. PB does not shut up about you.” He does a quick dribble behind his back before pulling up into a smooth jump shot that swishes through the net. “We’ll be shooting around after practice and it’s ‘Oh, Azzi never would have missed that shot. She’s the hardest worker I know.”

“You shoulda seen her a few months ago. Always tapping away on that iPad, putting together clips.”

Azzi remembers the video that Paige had so proudly shown to her family. How silly, and sweet, and how Paige it had been. It makes Azzi even more excited for dinner tonight, where she will finally get to tell Paige that she is committing to UConn.

The door pushes open again, and this time it’s Paige who rushes over to them, throwing an arm around Azzi’s neck.

“Hey, these losers bothering you?” Paige asks, laughter clear in her voice. But Azzi knows that it would only take one word from her to set her off if Azzi asked.

“No, they’ve been cool,” she says.

“Well, Coach heard you were here and wanted to say hi. See you guys later.” Paige leads Azzi deeper into the facility.

And if they’re a little late to meet everyone because Azzi pulls Paige into a secluded broom closet for some alone time, no one needs to know but them.

//

Azzi’s sprinting around the top of the court, rounding one screen and then another, trying desperately to get open. She’s open for a split second, and that’s all it takes for Paige to hit her with the pitch perfect pass. She rises to take the three that could tie the game when a body barrels into her legs.

She hits the floor hard. A whistle blows as the referee calls what Azzi hopes is a shooting foul. She stays on the floor for a moment longer, catching her breath, when suddenly the arena erupts in noise.

Whistles blow, and she finally looks up to see a furious Paige being pulled back by their teammates as one of the referees signals a technical foul. She is spitting furiously at an opposing player. Nika is at her side, simultaneously holding her back from causing more trouble for them and firing Croatian insults at the other team.

Azzi won’t find out until someone shows her the footage after the game, but Paige had stormed over the moment she was fouled and had pushed the offending player with two hands to the chest.

The referee points off the court. Paige has been ejected.

Coach has run over, screaming as the officials struggle to get everything under control. Aaliyah runs over to help Azzi up.

“Paige! Get your ass over here, now!” Geno’s voice somehow booms over the raucous Gampel crowd.

Paige throws her arms up, shrugging their teammates off of her. Satisfied that she has calmed down, everyone begins to back off. But instead of heading off the court like she’s supposed to, she makes a beeline for Azzi, who is still slightly shaken but standing.

Paige raises a hand as if to touch Azzi’s face, but she stops, recognizing where they are. She rests the hand on her shoulder instead.

“You good?” She asks, voice hoarse from shouting.

Azzi nods, still breathing hard. “Why did you do that, you idiot.” But even as she asks, she knows the answer.

Paige smiles crookedly. It is soft despite the noise around them, tender in a way Azzi knows Paige saves just for her.

“Bueckers!” Geno roars. They know if he could storm the court for her, he would have already.

“Go,” Azzi says. “I’ll see you after I win this game.”

“That’s my girl.” Paige leaves the court with a smirk on her face, cheers of her name following her.

Azzi sinks the free throws to send them to overtime. And when they end up winning by eight, even Geno can’t complain too much.

@bueckersbuckets35 it’s bullshit that paige had to apologize. they were targeting azzi all game. bet she’d do it again in a heartbeat if she had to

Paige Bueckers liked this tweet.

//

“That layup you had in the third!” Paige mimes a euro step, mimics taking a shot with her left hand. “Left hand, baby, bang!”

Hailey van Lith laughs at Paige’s antics, pushing at her playfully. “I mean, it wasn’t enough to get the win against you guys, but it’s always a good time pulling up against you.”

Even if they didn’t talk all the time, it feels like there would always be a special connection between all the girls who had played together for USA Basketball.

Hailey glances around. “How’s the wifey been? I didn’t get a chance to talk with her at the arena.”

Paige grins at that. She knows Hailey means it as a joke, that they are way too young to even think about marriage, but there is always something deeply satisfying for Paige to hear someone acknowledge that she is Azzi's and Azzi is hers.

“She’s doing aight. Her surgery went well. It’s just a shit deal y’know.” There have been plenty of tear filled nights for them both since Azzi had experienced the freak injury, but now Azzi’s ready to move forward, and Paige will be there every step of the way, like Azzi was for her.

Hailey smiles apologetically. “I was really sorry to hear about it. I remember you could never shut up about playing with her.”

“Thank you.” They both jump when Azzi pops up beside them. She gives Hailey a quick hug hello before turning to Paige.

She’s surprised when Azzi wraps her arms around her waist, tucking herself under Paige’s arm, pressing their bodies together.

They are no strangers to PDA. In fact, if Paige had her way, she would never stop touching Azzi. But the younger girl is usually more reluctant around people she doesn’t know, and with Hailey’s teammates around, it is a surprise to see her so affectionate.

Paige isn’t going to complain. She tightens her arm around Azzi’s shoulder and presses a quick kiss to her temple. She catches a whiff of alcohol on her breath. That explains the touchiness.

They chat with Hailey for a bit longer, but when Azzi begins to zone out mid convo, Paige excuses them both and walks them up to Azzi’s apartment.

“She’s so pretty.”

“Huh?” Paige pauses as she wipes the last of Azzi’s makeup from her face as they stand in the bathroom together.

“Hailey. She’s pretty, isn’t she?”

Paige shrugs. “Mm, I guess so.” She moves in closer, nose pressing into Azzi’s head, breathing in the scent of her. “Let’s go to bed.”

Azzi doesn’t say anything else until they’re tucked in together in her bed.

“You were talking to her for a long time.”

“Huh?” Paige groans into the back of Azzi’s neck, already half asleep. When she finally registers the words, she replies, “Who?”

“Hailey,” she replies, like Paige should know exactly what she’s talking about.

“We were just catching up. It’s been a while.” Paige presses a kiss to the side of Azzi’s neck, ready to fall asleep.

“Do you miss playing with her?”

“Dude, what are you talking about?” Paige props herself up on her elbow, turning Azzi onto her back to face her. She softens at the look on her girl’s face.

She presses a soft kiss to the dimple in Azzi’s cheek. And then she kisses her nose, her forehead, and all over her face until she’s smiling.

“Hey,” Paige says, making sure Azzi is looking into her eyes as she speaks. “You’ll be back. Best player in the nation, baby.”

Azzi pulls her into a deep kiss that still sends Paige’s head spinning and heart racing even after they have shared so many. When they pull apart, they are both breathless.

“Me and you.” Azzi’s eyes are shining and clear.

“You and me.” Paige gives Azzi a roguish grin and lets her pull her down once more.

//

“Yo, where’s P?” KK asks, scanning the room. It’s Senior Night, and they’re all getting dressed for the game. Even Azzi has just slipped into a jersey, even though she isn’t playing tonight.

“The seniors are on the court already. I think they had to do a run through of the ceremony. Why?”

Azzi is suspicious. KK looking for Paige is always a sign of something potentially stress inducing on the way.

“Oh, no reason, I just wanna make sure I’m outta the way when Daddy Paige sees you in her jersey for the first time.” KK cackles, ducking out of the way of the towel that Azzi flings at her.

“Nah, we all know there’s no way this is the first time she’s worn it.” Ice chimes in.

“Shut up,” Azzi says, rolling her eyes, glad that the fluorescent lights hide her blush. Surprisingly, she hasn’t worn Paige’s jersey since they were in high school, and even though she’d never admit it to her teammates, she is very excited to see how Paige reacts to it.

The injured players head into the arena just before tip off. The place is packed with fans there to celebrate the players who have given their all for UConn.

Besides that though, the media presence is palpable. The entire basketball world is waiting to hear whether Paige is staying or declaring. Azzi has known for weeks that Paige has decided to stay at UConn for another season. She has unfinished business, and even if they won the title this season, her injuries have robbed her of too much time here.

Azzi feels eyes on her as soon as they get into the open. She has been linked to Paige since before they even came here, so everyone is clearly gauging her mood on such an important night. She could try to play it more coy, but she can’t fight the smile on her face when she sees Paige warming up.

She’s getting one more year with her person. One more chance to fulfill the promise they made to each other when she chose UConn. She’s so happy.

Azzi waves up into the stands where hers and Paige’s family sit together, all wearing Bueckers gear. Drew jumps up and down when she makes a heart with her hands in his direction.

She’s stepping onto the court when she feels it. Goosebumps pimple her skin and she turns to where the majority of the team is casually warming up.

Paige stands at midcourt, staring at her, slack jawed. Azzi smiles coyly at her when Paige takes a step toward her, only to be stopped by CD who is standing next to her with a clipboard and an eyeroll.

Azzi just laughs and goes to take a few shots near the others. She isn’t close to being cleared to play, but she misses it so much. Even just being on the court during game days can be emotional lately. Soon, she feels a heated presence at her back.

Azzi turns around and finds Paige standing close. Too close for such a public place, but she can’t bring herself to move. Paige runs her eyes up and down Azzi’s body, lingering on where the number five splays proudly over her chest.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful. You tryin’ to get me in trouble?” Paige asks, voice low.

“Just wanted to support my favorite player.” Azzi looks up at Paige from beneath her lashes, and finds those blue eyes fixated on her lips.

“She must be pretty damn good if she’s your favorite.”

Azzi watches the muscles in Paige’s arms and shoulders flex as she links her hands behind her back, stopping herself from reaching out to touch.

“She’s not bad.” Azzi smirks. “Could use some work on her shooting stroke though.”

Paige scoffs. “I’ll show you my str-”

Two arms suddenly wrap around their shoulders as KK comes barreling into them.

“K, what the hell?” Paige pushes at her as they fight to stay steady on their feet.

“Yo, mom and dad, y’all have got to tone it down.”

KK smiles at them. “Media girl is on the way for some pics and P looks like she’s about to jump you.”

Azzi flushes as they all separate.

“What would y’all do without me though, seriously.”

KK strikes a ridiculous pose, distracting the media girl so Paige and Azzi can rearrange themselves into a more platonic pose.

Azzi hopes no one can see how flustered she is when Paige whispers in her ear to keep the jersey on for after the game.

They take a few quick pictures before it’s time for tip off. It’s an easy win, everyone playing with joy and anticipation of the celebration after the game.

For a moment, Azzi feels deeply sad. She wants to be out there, next to her girls.

But then the final buzzer sounds, and Azzi watches Paige bask in the attention of the crowd who loves her almost as much as Azzi does, and forgets everything but the beaming smile on Paige’s face.

[bogleech]

Could I mayhaps know what's the name of that arachnid field guide you have 0//0 it looks really pretty and I have. A thirst for all arachnid related field guides and biology books, love those critters

The Golden Guide to Spiders and their Kin! There were lots of them, originally made in the 60's or 70's I believe, and they used to still be so common when I was a kid - still in print, and sold for just a couple dollars everywhere - I thought everybody had a few! But now they seem to be forgotten.

I had the spiders one, insects one and "seashores" one (mantis shrimps and nudibranchs!!) before I could even read, just looking at the pictures all day. As I learned to read they were how I learned concepts of taxonomy and ecology, why I knew what a "parasitoid" was in first grade and I'd talk constantly about insects that aren't really RARE, but culturally most people never heard about. These books made things like velvet ants, bolas spiders and hairy millipedes seem to me like knowledge as ordinary as dogs and cats.

That "pests of animals" page in particular is why I knew there were wingless parasitic flies, and I thought that was so cool, I was obsessed with "SHEEP KED" for my entire childhood. This bug that nobody ever heard of when I mentioned it, but was at one time deemed worthy of inclusion in an everyday field guide. And they include "duck louse" as an animal pest you're expected to encounter. Sheep and duck parasites?!.....Oh, right! When these books first published, it was still commonplace for almost everyone to have experience with farm animals. Most people at least had grandparents or aunts and uncles with a farm they might visit and help out on. Of course they would encounter sheep and duck parasites. I think they still publish these, actually, I'm sure I still saw them in Barnes and Noble only a few years ago, but it's remarkable what a different America they were made under. My old copy even recommended DDT to control bed bugs....they did eventually edit that out in newer editions.

Some of their attitudes may be outdated here and there, and they're only intended for North American wildlife, but I think the golden guides might still be perfect introductions to their topics for anyone, anywhere of any age really?? They're such well-balanced overviews so densely packed with just the most essential information about each organism.

....Did people really ever just call tree frogs "hylas?!" It's one of their genus names, but was it also used as a common name anywhere? That's a cute idea. Maybe it was, briefly, so at some point to someone there was a concept of Frog, Toad, and Hyla?

[lbcreations-blog]

Husker, Charlie, and angel (seperate) with a teen reader who’s often found hanging around the hotel, not because they’re a sinner looking to rehabilitate (they’re hellborn) but just cuz they’re bored and want some entertainment. Overtime husker, Charlie and angel have become older familial figures and really close to reader. So what if reader comes to them one day and admits the real reason they’re always at the hotel is bc they’re being sexually abused at home? Sorry if you don’t feel comfortable with this, I’m honestly feeling a but uncomfortable requesting it but the comfort is much needed

If ya don’t wanna write this it’s ok just let me know pls

Auther note to requester: Of course, I'll write this, I also need comfort on this stuff, so yea. I had a bit of a writers block, and this is also not my best work, which I apologize for. Plus, I apologize for this coming out so late.

I have no idea why husks section is so short😭

All plotonic

Gn reader

The reader is shorter than Angel and Charlie and the same height as husk, btw

TW: slight descriptions of injuries and mentions of signs of struggle

Masterlist

No one should hurt someone like this

You loved hanging around at the hotel. You enjoying the chaos of the residents

You were there basically every day

You got very close to the bartender at the hotel

Husk was like an acutel father to you

He would always talk to you. Sometimes, he would show you magic tricks, and you loved it

One day, you seemed so sad

So Husk decided to wait until everyone's out of the lobby and ask what's up

Once, you had the courage to tell him he got angry at the ones who were supposed to raise you and nurture you.

But before he would do anything to the ones at your so-called 'home' he would comfort you

It might be a bit awkward, but he would do his best

He might even ask Charlie to let you stay at the hotel as an official resident

After comforting you, he would wait for the day he beats the ones who hurt you assess

Charlie was confused as to why you would hang around at the hotel for you being hellborn like her

But she let you stay thinking that even you, a hellborn, was supporting her hotel

After a while of being at the hotel, you and Charlie bonded quite nicely

She was like a super cool, bubbly, older sister to you

Compared to basically everyone in hell, you generally vibed with her, for some reason

Now, one day, you just weren't at the hotel

And then the next day

And the one after that

Now Charlie was worried, so she got the forms that tells where everybody lives and makes her way over to your adobe

Charlie walked up to your door and knocked the knocker three times.

No answer

After waiting for two minutes, she knocked three times once again.

Again no answer

She knocked with the knocker against the door one more time, but to no avail.

No answer

Charlie knew you were in your house she could sense your aroa, and your aroa felt hurt, so she knew she knew that had to do one thing and one thing only.

Go into your house without your permission.

She had to go in to make sure you were ok. So she tried to go into your house. But the door was locked. So she unlocked the door with her powers and stepped inside, and goodness, the place looks terrible. The couch was flipped in the lounge, and other signs off struggle was obvious.

Charlie walked around the house carefully in case someone else was lurking in the house. After a while, she found herself in front of a door with your name on it. This was definitely your room. She opened your door with caution, and...

There was you.

On the floor.

Sitting there with your hands covering your face.

There were bruises on your body, and you were quietly sobbing.

Charlie gasped upon the sight that was displayed in front of her. You looked up at her. You looked, so... terrified. And Charlie hated it so much. She quickly rushed to your side and softly hugged you so as not to hurt you more.

"Hey, hey," Charlie said in a soft voice. "Are you badly hurt? And do you know who hurt you?"

"I-" you sobbed softly.

"Hey. Hey, it's OK, it's OK, take your time," Charlie told you in the most comforting voice she could muster.

"The, ones I live with, did this to me" you told her in between sniffles.

Charlie was angered on this fact but stayed with you and tried to keep her calm. All she knew was that she would make sure those assholes would be dealt with, biological or not, no one hurts her younger sibling.

Angel Dust, the porn star

A tricky fella per-say

How did you become friends? It's hard to say

But for me and everyone else, you are like 12 - 14 in his version, and since you are oh so young, he doesn't talk about that stuff around you, like he might cuse but that's cause everyone does that

Anyway, now you both are pretty close, maybe you both like to dress up to together or smthn

After a while, you kinda start feeling like Angel is your older brother like yall have so much fun together

So since you veiw him as such, you felt as if you should share something you think he'll know about, even though it's supposed to be a secret

You softly knocked on Angel's bedroom door. "Hey Angel, it's me, Y/N," the door opened to show Angel. "Oh Heya kid, how'ya been?" Angel asked you. "Oh, ok, I guess... hey, uhm, I wanna talk to you in your room." You told the sinner with an uncomfortable face.

"Uh, alright com'n in kid," he said, moving out of the way off the door. You both sat down on his couch. "So what's been troubling, you kid?" Angel asked you. "Uhm, well, I'll just show you." You said as you brought your turtleneck down. Once Angel realized what he was seeing, he was shocked, angry, and just sad.

There was a hikey on your neck. "Uhm, Angel, do you know what this is?" You asked him, but instead of getting a response back.

You got a hug.

A very nice and warm one.

Sooner or later, Angel was gonna kill those basstards that hurt you.

Taglist: @fatherlesschild2 @whitewingsh @iheartpieck @i-yuki @ilovemyths2003 @im-so-tired52 @yuuandtheghost

Taglist request section

[redcrescentmoons]

Can you write a fic where Logan (If you write for him ofc if not, it could be Max, too) meets reader (Reader could be a celebrity of some kind like an actor or a NASCAR driver) in a gala or fancy event and it's kind of just love at first sight. For the rest of the event Logan/ Max tries to ask the reader out maybee? :3

It would be pretty cool but I'm pretty sure this idea has already been used countless times already buuuuut it would be pretty cool though

Thanks for reading this :D

Can’t keep my eyes off you

Logan Sargeant x gn!actor!reader

Note: You didn’t specify a reader gender (I write male and gender neutral readers) so I made it gender neutral but I can change it on request

In all honesty, Logan had never been a fan of all the fancy events he had to go to. He understood what it meant for him and for the team of course, but that didn’t mean they were his cup of tea.

Luckily for him, Alex was there too, and he knew that meant they could spend the entire evening chatting and waiting for the event to come to an end.

They weren’t the only Formula 1 drivers there; and frankly, apart for Lewis, most of them wanted to leave as well.

And so Logan stuck to his group, the people he saw every week, because it was better then socializing.

As they talked in their corner, drinks in hand, Logan fidgeted around; his suit was too uncomfortable, it was too warm in the crowded room, his dress shoes were squishing his feet.

A late arrival had everyone turning their heads: it was a very good-looking person, one that Logan didn’t recognize, but captured his attention nonetheless.

His fidgeting stopped; he went completely still, jaw slack and eyes wide, as he observed the newcomer.

"Who is that?" he was whispered to Alex, in hopes of getting some information about the stranger.

"Oh them? That’s Y/N L/N, they’re a super famous actor, I can’t believe you don’t know who they are."

So that was your name and job down. But what else could he learn about you? He had already been scolded by his team principal for using his phone too much during events, so that was ruled out.

He settled for the closest thing he could find to Wikipedia: his friends.

"What do you know about that person? Y/N L/N?" he asked the entire group.

They started blurting out random things, from your nationality to the name of your pet, and put together the information was actually quite a bit. Impressive for who he was asking.

But there was one question Logan still wanted to ask.

"And are they, by any chance, into men?" His mumbled question still managed to get picked up by his group, luckily, because he didn’t think he could say it again.

"Yes don’t worry" said Charles, the only one to have met him before "And they’re single too" the monegasque added, winking at Logan.

A slight blush spread on the American’s cheeks at being teased; and yet he couldn’t help but think about the actor, even as the conversation switched subjects.

He couldn’t stop his eyes from wandering across the room, to where you were stood, looking perfect, greeting those who came and talked to you.

Logan wondered if there was a chance he would be one of those people, to confidently walk up to you and just start a conversation.

But that wasn’t really him, was it? As much as he liked to exhibit a confident personality in interviews and such he couldn’t flirt for the life of him.

And so Logan settled for observation from afar, at least for a little bit.

He listened to what his friends were saying distractedly, half listening and the other half of his mind consumed by the stranger.

It was so unlike him, to see someone for the first time and completely fixate on them, and yet he just couldn’t help it.

Even when he tore his gaze from you it always wandered back, like a magnet. He kept thinking about what it would be like to talk to you, to actually be close, and in that moment there was nothing Logan wanted more.

He had completely spaced out, staring at you from across the room, until Max brought him back into the conversation with a "What do you think Logan?" that he honestly couldn’t respond to.

His friends laughed, finding his cluelessness funny, while filling him in on what he had missed. While he actually listened this time, Charles moved closer to Logan and whispered in his ear "Shoot your shot. Just trust me."

He couldn’t say it wasn’t helpful, given Charles was the only one to have met you before, and yet that just wasn’t enough to convince him to do it.

He turned away from their little side conversation to join back into the groups, shooting you a glance while he could.

Each time he saw your smiling face he thought about how inviting and nice you looked and how easy it would be for him to actually talk to you, and yet he still chickened out.

It was nearly two hours later now and Logan hadn’t stopped thinking about the actor for a second.

He was afraid of the evening coming to an end without him having talked to you, and it filled him with dread.

He went down the rabbit hole in his mind: What if he never did talk to you? He didn’t think he would be able to bring himself to stop thinking about you, and knew he would regret not speaking to you if he didn’t. And yet he remained afraid.

That was until Logan looked over to where he had seen you last and didn’t find you there. He looked around the large event venue, unable to find you, getting worried you had left already and he had missed his chance.

He was beginning to spiral, until he felt someone’s arm brushing against his own; no wait, someone was hugging Charles from behind. Logan didn’t think much of it until he realized it was your arm against his, and he began to blush madly.

You hadn’t seen Charles in a while, and you couldn’t wait to talk to him again, but people kept getting in your way, asking about you and telling you their opinions about their latest movies. And frankly, you wanted to check out the cute blonde boy standing next to your monegasque friend.

Logan watched you pull away from Charles, who messed with your hair playfully the moment he realized it was you.

You slotted yourself in between Charles and Logan as Charles introduced you to everyone, and Logan could feel his heart beating faster.

You started chatting with the whole group, getting to know the friends Charles had promised to introduce you to long ago.

Logan stayed quiet, admiring your beauty, and wondering if it was appropriate to pull you aside to talk privately.

Ultimately he decided it couldn’t be that bad, and when the conversation took a turn and you stayed quiet he pulled you aside, not far, just enough for a little bit of privacy.

You weren’t entirely sure what was happening, but followed suit as Logan pulled you a couple meters away from the other drivers.

"Hi! I’m Logan, we didn’t get to talk much." yep, that was a good opening line.

As Logan started his conversation he couldn’t help but fall further in love with you, entranced by your voice and personality.

Eventually he told himself he had to do it and, during the conversation, he blurted out "Do you want to go out with me?"

He wasn’t very happy with how he had done it, but knew the nerves had just taken over. He hoped it hadn’t put you off.

"I would love to" you said, smiling gently at him. He realized that wasn’t your fake smile, the one you were giving those that greeted you earlier; he felt special: he had caused your genuine smile, and he was the one that got to see it.

Little did you both know his entire group had been listening, and began to cheer as you both exchanged numbers and promised to keep in contact, right as the event came to an end.

You walked outside with Logan, Charles and their friends, Logan still smiling as he talked to you.

As you stepped in your own car, and they went to theirs individually, you said goodbye, and Logan watched you until the very moment he couldn’t anymore, excited at the prospect of your future date.

He was glad he had been unable to keep his eyes off of you.

[malfoyscoffee]

message in a bottle ౨ৎ theodore nott

pairing theodore nott x fem!slytherin!reader about fluff | 1.8k words | friends/fwb to lovers warnings mentions of drinking alcohol, use of y/n song "message in a bottle" — red (taylor's version), taylor swift

YOU WOKE UP IN THEODORE NOTT'S BED, the soft morning light filtering through the curtains of his dorm room. His room was a comfortable mess, with books and clothes scattered around, and the faint scent of cologne lingering in the air.

You sat up stretching, feeling the warmth of the blanket cocooned around you, and glanced at Theodore, who was still half-asleep beside you.

"Y/n, come on, stay a bit longer," Theo mumbled, his voice husky with sleep as he reached out to pull you back into the warmth of the bed. His eyes, heavy with sleep, pleaded with you to stay.

You chuckled softly, shaking your head. "I can't, Theo. It's Sunday so I need to complete my Transfiguration paper."

He groaned, rubbing his eyes as he sat up, his messy hair adding to his disheveled charm. "You always leave early in the morning. Can't you take one day off and cuddle?"

Your heart fluttered at the thought of spending the day wrapped in Theo's arms, but you knew you couldn't afford to slack off. "I wish I could," you replied, swinging your legs over the side of the bed and standing up. "But if I don't finish this paper, McGonagall will have my head."

Theo smirked, watching you as you searched for your shoes amidst the clutter of his room. "You know, most people would kill for an excuse to stay in bed longer. Especially with me."

You rolled your eyes playfully, finally finding your shoes and slipping them on. "Nice try, Nott."

He sighed dramatically, leaning back against his pillows, the morning sunlight casting a golden glow on his features. "Fine. But you're going to Draco's dorm to hang out later, right?"

You smiled, grabbing your robe and heading towards the door. "Of course. I'll see you later, Theo. Try not to miss me too much."

He laughed, throwing a pillow in your direction as you left his room. The cool air of the dungeon corridors greeted you as you made your way back to your own dorm, a contented smile lingering on your lips.

Later that night, all of your friends decided to drink, but after running out of alcohol, you and Mattheo offered to go get some more. Thankfully, the Weasley twins owed you a favor, and they had some leftover liquor from the last Gryffindor party.

Although both of you were tipsy, making the entire journey humorous, you were sober enough to navigate the dark corridors.

"Matt, stop, you're going to wake up the entire floor!" you shushed Mattheo’s laughter as you walked up the stairs to the dorms.

“All right, all right,” Mattheo whispered back, his voice still carrying a hint of amusement. He was holding the crate full of bottles, which were making noises with every lousy step.

As you approached Draco’s dorm, you slowed your steps, Mattheo following suit. The low murmur of voices from inside caught your attention.

“What do you think they're talking about?” you whispered to Mattheo.

Mattheo's eyes gleamed mischievously. “Let's find out.”

You nodded, turning Draco's door knob quietly to open the door. When the door had a small crack, you both inched closer to the hole, trying to listen in without being noticed.

“So, when are you confessing to Y/n?” Blaise's voice rang out, breaking the quietude of the hallway.

“I’m tired of listening to how you're going to ask her out, then never have the guts to actually do it,” Blaise continued, his tone laced with amusement.

The mention of your name made you hold your breath and you felt Mattheo tense from beside you. In your best friend's head, you weren't supposed to find out this way.

“I agree with Blaise,” Lorenzo chimed in. “Just go on and ask her out already.”

Then came Pansy's voice, her tone teasing. “I can't believe you've fallen for your friends with benefits.”

Theodore Nott likes you?

"I heard Diggory is planning on asking her out this week. If you're serious about her, you should make a move before him."

Theodore sat in silence at Draco's comment, the gears in your head turning like clockwork.

You stole a glance at Mattheo, the new information soaking in. He smirked at your clueless face before he stood up straightening his back and had you do the same.

“We’re back with more bottles! Who’s ready to drink more?” Mattheo walked inside the dorm to set the crate down.

You felt yourself sobering up as you stood by the door, still taken back at the new information. Eventually, you stepped in, closing the door behind you, the open spot next to Theodore reserved for you.

When you sat in your old seat, Theodore’s arm snaked around your waist, placing his head on your shoulder. He placed his hand on your thigh, joining in the new topic that your friends were discussing.

The night continued as if nothing had changed, but the knowledge of Theodore's feelings weighed heavily on your mind.

You laughed along with your friends and enjoyed the drinks but you couldn't help calculate to all of Theodore’s touch, as it felt more meaningful.

The next day, you woke up with a knot of nerves in your stomach. You had Potions class with Mattheo, and you were determined to ask him for confirmation about Theodore. You’d had a crush on Theo for years, and the uncertainty was driving you crazy.

As you walked to the dungeons, you noticed the familiar hustle and bustle of students making their way to class. The cool air and the stone walls of Hogwarts offered little comfort as you navigated through the corridors, your thoughts consumed by the conversation from last night.

When you entered the classroom, you spotted Mattheo setting up your workstation. He glanced up and offered you a small smile, but you could tell that he sensed something was bothering you.

Professor Snape swept into the room, his presence commanding attention. "Today, you will be brewing Veritaserum," he announced, his voice cutting through the quiet chatter of the students.

After a brief reminder of when the potion was due, the classroom erupted into activity as students gathered ingredients and prepared their cauldrons.

You and Mattheo worked side by side, but your mind was elsewhere, the events from last night playing on a loop in your head.

About halfway through the class, as you waited for a potion to simmer, the room filled with the low hum of conversations. Seizing the opportunity, you turned to Mattheo, the anticipation of the previous night's revelations still weighing heavily on your mind.

"Matt," you began quietly, your voice barely above a whisper, the words feeling heavy on your tongue. You glanced around to make sure no one else was listening, the tension palpable in the air.

"What's up, Y/n?" Mattheo replied, his voice barely audible over the gentle bubbling of the cauldrons. He looked at you expectantly, his eyes filled with curiosity.

"Last night, when we overheard the conversation in Draco's dorm... about Theo," you said, the words tumbling out in a rush, the weight of the revelation pressing down on you.

Mattheo's face softened, a knowing look in his eyes as he nodded in understanding. "Yeah, it's true. Theo's fancied you for a while now. You weren’t supposed to find out that way, he’s been wanting to confess. He just hasn't had the guts to say anything."

You sighed in relief and frustration, the words hanging in the air like a heavy fog. "I really like him too, but I don't know what to do. I feel like I'm just waiting for him to make a move but it’ll take forever."

Mattheo smiled sympathetically, his expression filled with understanding. "Sometimes, you just have to be patient. Theo will come around. He's just... not good at expressing his feelings."

His words offered some comfort and you forced yourself to focus on the potion in front of you, but your mind was still consumed by thoughts of Theodore.

After classes finished, you were sitting by the Black Lake, enjoying the warm weather and the rare moment of peace. The sky was clear, and the gentle breeze made the day perfect for a relaxing break.

You noticed Cedric Diggory standing nearby, looking like he wanted to approach you. He caught your eye and walked over with a friendly smile.

"Hey, Y/n," he greeted, standing beside you. "I've been meaning to ask you something." You smiled back, though your mind instantly recalled Draco's words the other night

"What's up, Cedric?"

"Well," Cedric began, rubbing the back of his neck, "I was wondering if you'd like to go to Hogsmeade with me this weekend?"

From a distance, Theodore saw you talking to Cedric. His heart sank as he saw Cedric leaning in, seemingly asking you something important.

He couldn't hear the conversation, but he could see the serious expressions on both of your faces. Panic surged through him as he rushed over, hoping it wasn’t too late.

Theodore left Pansy and Draco's side, their faces confused at his sudden departure. It was when they saw that you were with Cedric, that the two smirked with knowing looks.

As Theodore got closer, Cedric smiled at you one last time before walking away, leaving you alone. Theodore reached you just as Cedric was disappearing from view.

"Y/n," Theo said, slightly out of breath, "Can I talk to you for a second?" You looked up at him, your heart skipping a beat.

"Of course, Theo." He took a deep breath, gathering his courage. "I saw you talking to Cedric, and I don't know if I'm too late but I need to tell you something. I’ve fancied you for a long time, and I’ve been too scared to say anything. I know we're already seeing each other for other reasons, but I fell for you hard."

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, causing Theo to look at you in confusion.

"What's so funny?" You shook your head, a smile playing on your lips.

"Theo, I overheard everything last night. I know that you like me. And just now, when Cedric asked me out, I told him I fancied someone else."

Theodore’s eyes widened in surprise. "You did? Who?" You took a step closer, your eyes meeting his with a warmth that made his heart race.

"It’s you, Theo. I’ve been waiting for you to finally ask me out." A look of relief and joy spread across Theodore’s face.

"Really? You like me?" You nodded, smiling up at him.

"Yes, really." He let out a breath he seemed to have been holding.

"So, how about we make this the start of something new? No more friends with benefits, but an actual relationship?" You squeezed his hands, feeling the warmth and sincerity in his words.

"I’d like that very much." As you both sat down by the lake, hand in hand, you realized that the waiting was over.

Your message has been received.

[liyahin4k]

𝐂𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐜𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐡 || pt 2 ||

(𝐁𝐖𝐖𝐖)

(𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐆𝐄 𝐗 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑)

“Girllll you are on fireee” angel your friend laughed shoving her phone in your face. You took it confuse when you did you saw there was a picture took of you and Paige having the conversation after the game and some were of the eye contact you too had that night.

“People get on my nerves sometimes,and you’re one of them” you mumbled walking past her “you know you love me” she giggled following after you “yeah,yeah” you rolled your eyes.

You walked to your room when you got a phone call from you agent “hey what’s up” you answered “you free tonight” she asked hope in her voice “yeah why”. “Great I was hoping you would do an appearance tonight at some club,it’s really cool you’ll be in and out promis” she plead “yeah and the last time you said that you got me drunk” you laughed.

“This time I promise there will be no alcohol” she chuckled You paused thinking about it it has been a while since you been out or made any appearances. “Sure”

(Ur outfit,you can imagine something else if you like)

Paige/3rd pov

“Come onnn it’s just one night please” kk cried. She had wanted to got out sense they had a free night and there was nothing else to do azzi,ice,and nika had already agreed to going but they were all waiting on Paige now.

“I said no” she told them not looking up from her phone and what she was looking at may you ask..edits..of you.

Some were from the your new movie and some were form interviews. All she could do was admire your beauty with a soft smile “whyyyy you’ve been locked up in here for days,live a little” kk cried plopping down next to Paige “it wouldn’t be a party without youuu” kk sang trying to convince her. Paige signed putting down her phone looking at her “if I say yes will you shut up”.

“Yes” kk rushed out with a smile “fine I’ll go,but you’re paying for my drinks”.

Pulling out the club they saw how crowded it was with a sigh Paige got out the car following after everyone “who knew it was gonna be the crowded” azzi wondered. “I think I know why” kk mumbled eyes wide staring ahead “what are you-“ Paige breathed hitched.

You were walking towards the club fans and paparazzi screaming your name as you smiled and waved trying to make your way through. Her breath almost stopped when your eyes met hers you smiled at before turning to your friend you came with telling her something before making your way toward her.

“B-be cool” she turned to everyone behind her panicking “more like you be coo” azzi laughed everyone else laughed with her. “Hi” you smiled stopping in front of her her mouth was opened but nothing came out.

Kk hit her back snapping her out of it “hi” she blushed “what are you doing here” you ask softly laughing at her face “uhh p-partying” she answered leaning her Hand on the wall beside her clearing her throat trying to keep her cool. “She losing it” kk mumbled to the others she all nodded agreeing watching their friend make a full of herself.

“In line” you asked confused “yeah-I m-mean no were waiting” she rushed out you plinked at her. “okayy” you answered confused,you paused for a moment looking at how long the line was you softly smiled looking back at her.

“How about you all come with me,I could even get you in VIP if you want” “WHAT” they all shouted surprise “w-what WE mean is you don’t have to do that right” Paige softly shouted looking back at them. They all looked away mumbling to each other.

Paige rolled her eyes looking back at you “it really no problem besides it just me and my friend” you pointed behind you were your friend was with the paparazzi snapping as many photos as they could get of you and Paige “you sure” she asked “ totally,it no problem” you smiled taking her hand in your walking towards the entrance, the rest following behind her with smiles on my faces.



(I know it’s a little short but the next will be a little longer andddd..Paige gonna get a little jealous 🤭)

[hippolotamus]

Inspiration Saturday 🪩

Tagged by the delightful @thekristen999 @daffi-990 @lemonzestywrites @bidisasterevankinard @wikiangela

@theotherbuckley for Fuck it Friday. Thank you darlin’s (tagging you back for today) mwah! 💖

Made a lil moodboard for today's snippet. I'm not in love with all the words but that's what editing is for. So, here's Buck visiting Eddie's workplace for the first time. Surprise (because I don't think I've mentioned this before???) Eddie's not a firefighter in this either. He's a mechanic who works with a bunch of homophobic jerks. But also with Hen! Buck knows Eddie isn't out to most people so this is an... enlightening moment for him. Some of it's under the cut to save your dash. masterlist of posts here and no I'm not writing this remotely in order

“Oh, thank fuck,” he mumbles to himself when he pulls the door open and is greeted with a cool blast of air conditioning. 

Looking around the interior, he thinks it could pass for a museum. A snapshot in time, forever preserved exactly as it was. Gold framed articles about the 1973 grand re-opening hang on the wood-paneled walls alongside prints of hot rods and muscle cars. There are vintage metal signs mixed in for Shell, Texaco, Gulf, and some other brands he’s never heard of. 

“Do you have an appointment?” A gravelly voice asks from behind him.

Buck jerks around to the desk where a middle aged woman with auburn hair and green gray eyes glares at him with a mix of boredom and curiosity. Or maybe suspicion? He can't quite tell.

Her bronzed skin is littered with freckles and screams that she’s spent too much time outside with no sunscreen or other protection. A name plate, half hidden under papers and key rings, identifies her as Estelle. He’s heard a few stories about her from Eddie, but he’s not sure any of them did her intimidating demeanor justice.

“Uh, no?” He answers, not sure why it comes out as a question other than he’s not entirely convinced the five foot something couldn’t somehow manage to hurt him. 

It must take every ounce of strength to conceal the whole body sigh she wants to make as she looks down, licks her fingertip and begins flipping through a giant paper scheduling book. “If you don’t have an appointment I can maybe get you in next Thursday. Depending on what you need.”

“Actually, uh, I don’t need anything.” Estelle glances up, mouth slightly parted and eyes narrowed as if she’s about to ask what he’s doing standing in her lobby. He quickly adds, “Well, what I mean is, my car doesn’t need anything. I’m here to see Eddie? Uh, Eddie Diaz.”

She nods with something like understanding. At least he hopes that’s what it is as she picks up the phone receiver and punches in a few numbers.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Hey, is Diaz around? Someone here asking about him.” 

“No, it’s not the cops! What’s the matter with you? I don’t know. Just some guy here looking for Eddie.”

Estelle huffs an exasperated sigh and looks toward the ceiling like it’ll give her strength. “Jay, I don’t have time for twenty questions and, quite frankly, I don’t care.”

“About time you quit screwin’ around. Send him out.” She hangs up the receiver and mutters something about not caring that he’s a relative. 

“He’ll be a few minutes. Take a seat.” She gestures to a line of metal chairs with sticky looking vinyl cushions without so much as glancing in Buck’s direction. 

He momentarily gets excited when he spots a gumball machine in the corner until he realizes it would require actual coins that he definitely doesn’t have. And he’s not about to ask Estelle if she’s got change for a twenty just so he can satisfy his sweet tooth. 

“Buck?” Eddie appears from a side door, wiping his hands on a rag. His hair is sweaty and mussed, likely from pushing it out of his face. His gorgeous, kissable face that Buck very much wants to kiss even more right now despite the streaks and smudges of god knows what decorating it. The corner of Eddie’s mouth twitches like he knows what Buck is thinking, but he clears his throat and schools it just as quickly when Estelle grunts, reminding them they’re at his workplace. 

“Uh, Buck. Hi. What can I do for you?” Eddie tilts his chin in the direction of the parking lot. “Everything okay with the jeep?”  

“Hi,” Buck answers, a little too breathy for their current situation. He can’t seem to help himself. Eddie’s always cleaned up when they meet, whether it’s at the club, a date out somewhere or an evening in. He’s never seen him marked up from his job, in his grimy army green coveralls. 

“Uh, yeah. Jeep’s fine. Just, you know, was nearby and thought I’d stop in.” Buck tracks the movement as Eddie’s tongue darts out, wetting his lips, before sneaking him a flirty, amused smirk. 

“Glad you did.” Eddie chances a look at Estelle who still has her head down, shuffling some papers that probably don’t need it. He takes a step closer and lowers his voice. “I haven’t taken my lunch yet. Give me five and we can get out of here?”

Buck nods, not knowing how to respond without giving anything away. 

Eddie puts more distance between them again, sticking his hand out. Buck takes it, thrown by the familiarity of his boyfriend mixed with the very conventional, socially acceptable handshake. “Great to see you again, Buck. Check that place on Viscount Boulevard. I think you’ll find what you’re looking for.”

“Uh, yeah. Thanks,” Buck answers, reluctantly letting their palms slide apart. But he gets it. Eddie’s coworkers are all a bunch of ignorant, homophobic assholes. Well, except for Hen apparently. Regardless, Eddie can’t be risking his job and livelihood when he has Chris to think about. “I’ll go check it out. You said it’s about... ten minutes from here?”

“About that, yeah. Maybe fifteen.”

A warm, fluttering feeling washes over him as Eddie winks and smiles, seeming pleased that Buck caught on to his little game. He has to force himself to turn around and leave instead of watching his boyfriend walk away. 

“Have a nice day,” Estelle says as he opens the door, setting off a chime. It’s enough to snap him out of his haze, offering a weak ‘you too’ as he hurries back to his jeep.

np tagging @actuallyitsellie @epicbuddieficrecs @loveyouanyway @a-noble-dragon @tizniz

@mountedeverest @fortheloveofbuddie @weewootruck @saybiwithme @shipperqueen6

@ramonaflow @taketheplanspinitsideways @spotsandsocks @dangerpronebuddie @stereopticons

@kitteneddiediaz @mrs-f-darcy @drowsy-quill @your-catfish-friend @filet-o-feelings

@underwaterninja13 @lizzie-bennetdarcy @rainbow-nerdss @steadfastsaturnsrings @queenmabcreates

@inell @jesuisici33 @rmd-writes @shortsighted-owl @queerbuckleys

@bi-buckrights @elvensorceress @bucksbiawakening @giddyupbuck @hoodie-buck

@indestructibleheart @ladydorian05 @monsterrae1 @statueinthestone @slightlyobsessedwitheverything

@the-likesofus @thewolvesof1998 @watchyourbuck @welcometololaland @wildlife4life and anyone else who wants to 😘

[evergone]

Misunderstandings

Ominis Gaunt x Reader (Jane Austen inspired)

Warnings: some angst, drinking.

Description: Ominis and the reader broke each other's hearts as teenagers. When they meet again as adults, the reader disguises herself as Natsai's cousin and they fall in love all over again.

Shoo-ing your friends away and promising each of them that you would not be long, you sat down in a quieter room adjacent to the ballroom to catch your breath. If you had to dance with one more minister or minister’s son you may well have danced yourself to death. You held your fan to your breast and fluttered it rapidly in the hopes to find some cool air in the cramped heat of the Minister for Magic’s yearly ball.

You reached for a glass of white wine from a passing server and allowed yourself the mercy of a long sip unfit for a gentlewoman of your blood. The glass came from your lips with a grateful and exhausted sigh as you turned into the table you were at and placed down your fan.

A man was sitting on the other side of the table with a distant look. His hair was bright, his skin fair, and when you attempted to catch his gaze (a fruitless action) you noticed his eyes were a cloudy sort of grey-white. He was sitting in bored silence beside a brunet man far too engaged in conversation with a woman in purple to notice his poor companion was nearly falling asleep.

“Sir, are you quite alright?” You inquired over the music being played by the young lady behind the pianoforte.

The man’s grey eyes searched for your face in vain, never landing and just moving quickly around your general space. It was an action that seemed quite familiar, and suddenly you recognised the man as Ominis Gaunt. During your Hogwarts days he had been one of your closest friends, and the object of your affection. You had ended your friendship on bad terms, and had your heart broken. On realising this, you were frozen with terror.

“Please, I suffer from blindness, my apologies that I cannot look at you when you speak to me,” said Ominis and you managed to squeak out a soft acceptance of these apologies, “This ball must be wonderful, but with my companion occupied there is not much for me to do. Never mind me, though — How is your night, Miss…?”

“Onai!” You lied, using your dear friend’s name to mask yourself from him, “I am Miss Onai.”

“As in Natsai Onai? Your voice is familiar, but I did not think…”

“Oh! She is my cousin,” you cringed as you said it, but anything to draw suspicion away from you, so you thought up the first Shona name you could think of and used that instead of your real name, “I am Tsitsi Onai. Natsai’s father’s brother’s daughter.”

Ominis’ brow creased with a frown, but he accepted her word as truth and you let some tension release from your shoulders. A quick glance to his side, and you gathered that his companion must have been Sebastian Sallow, a man whose sight was not so impaired that he could have mistaken you so easily for someone else. His presence was a danger to your lie.

“Well, I really must be going, sir,” you said as pleasantly as possible through the stress, then you stood up.

To your dismay, Ominis rose, too. It was manners and respect, is all, or at least that is what you tried to assure yourself as he circled the table to be slightly closer to you.

“You remind me so much of an old friend of mine,” he said, “Please, would you do me the honour of a dance?”

He held his hand out towards the direction of the music leaking in from the ballroom and you cursed good etiquette for forcing women to dance with every man who asked, and then you cursed yourself for ever leaving the floor in the first place. You obliged his request, and led him into the ballroom by slightly tugging at the cuff of his sleeve. He had not even bothered to tell Sebastian where he was going, and your heart panged with concern that they would never find each other again and you would end up stuck caring for Ominis until the end of the night.

The music slowed slightly as you reached the ballroom floor and his hands took their dutiful places. Dancing in itself was not a sensual touch, but even so, he touched you with such delicacy, such gentility, that you could not help but wish his hand was slightly firmer. It seemed it was not him touching you, but his shadow. Had he known who you were you would have teased him, and elbowed his hand until it was gripping at your waist as if you were the only thing stopping him from falling from a great height.

As you began to dance, conversation flowed somewhat freely. So far from anyone you knew, there was no fear of being exposed to him. You would enjoy yourself, you decided.

“You know my name, sir, but what is yours?” You asked, and he introduced himself, “I think Natty has spoken of you.”

“Goodness, you must tell me what she has said. If I have reflected poorly, I would be mortified,” he said with a flustered blush on his nose.

“Either she has not spoken at length, or I do not listen to her enough to remember anything of import. You must tell me of yourself so that I might build my own judgement,” you smiled.

“Truly, there is not much to tell,” he said modestly, “I was educated at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry (this is how I know your cousin), and I am apprenticing to be a barrister currently.”

“And what of your hobbies? Do you fancy gardening? Music? A good game of whist?” You said.

“Recently, I have become a fan of the opera,” he explained, “My companion, Mr. Sallow, is learning Italian, so we saw Otello in London and he translated as best he could. I have seen the play, so I understood what he did not, and I much enjoyed it.”

“Molto bene! I love the opera!” You nearly grinned with excitement. “I am no enjoyer of Otello — It is regrettably muggle in its racial concerns… But I saw Faust in Paris and it was wonderful!” He nodded along as you spoke, hanging on to every word that left your mouth. “I think that performance is the magic of muggles.”

“How incredibly insightful, Miss Onai,” he said thoughtfully and you blushed, “I must agree. Wizards can perform, certainly, but we do not know art like they do.”

Soon after, the dance ended. You and Ominis exchanged bows, and you politely led him back to Sebastian. You left with a quick good-bye without much decorum at all so as to avoid being seen, but not before you gave him the address of the townhouse you were staying at with your “cousin” and friends. What did you intend to gain by giving him the address? Of this, you were not completely sure. But somewhere in the back of your mind, you hoped he would call on you.

The next day, Ominis awoke with three things: a start, a headache, and a realisation. The first of these things made him gasp and place a hand on his chest, the second made him groan and order his house elf to fetch him some water, and the third made him drop his water all over himself and run into Sebastian’s room without any warning at all.

The poor brunet squinted as his friend drew back the curtains and let the sun pound in through the window. There was no clock in his room, but Sebastian could tell it was much too early for him to be awake. He voiced this complaint, but Ominis cared not, so Sebastian dropped back into his pillows and let his friend speak.

“My good man, I think I fell in love last night,” he said with wide, unseeing eyes.

This made Sebastian sit up again, this time with a curious raised eyebrow.

“Ominis,” he started, “For the last — What? Three years? — For the last three years, you have been whining about how Y/n L/n from school broke your heart. I have not heard a man so adamantly declare that he would be a bachelor for life as you. Yet, today, on this eighteenth of April, you tell me you have fallen in love!”

There was a sense of disbelief in Sebastian’s speech that made Ominis sigh deeply. He sat down on the edge of Sebastian’s mattress, and tried his best to stare him seriously in the eye (Sebastian laughed at this, grabbed Ominis’ head, and positioned it correctly).

“She was just like Y/n,” said Ominis.

Sebastian rolled his eyes exaggeratedly, knowing he was safe from being seen, but Ominis felt the movement in the air and slapped Sebastian’s arm in annoyance. Sebastian hissed and slapped Ominis back. They were as immature in adulthood as they had once been as boys.

“Well, then it was good it was just one night!” Sebastian frowned.

“I have her address,” Ominis admitted in a state of pure bliss and Sebastian threw up his arms in defeat, “I am going to call on her.”

“Do not call on her!” His nose was scrunched up in disgust.

“You should have heard her talk, Sebastian! I was so entranced that I thought she was Y/n. She sounded exactly like her,” Ominis said.

“Are you sure it was not the ghost of loves past?” Sebastian teased, “Should we be on watch for a jolly bearded giant now? And what after that? The phantom of loves yet-to-come?”

“Do not jest,” Ominis scoffed, “This woman is a needle and thread. She has sewn my heart back together.”

“And what is this seamstress’ name?”

“She is cousin to Natsai Onai, her name is Tsitsi. Is not it as beautiful as she?” Ominis mused lovingly.

“I have not seen her, so I cannot attest to her beauty,” Sebastian said, unconvinced, “In fact, you have not even seen her.”

Meanwhile, in your townhouse, you were anxiously pacing in the parlour. You had been awake since you arrived home, the jitters not offering you a minute of sleep. One of your house elves, the first to wake, had found you writing in your diary in the earliest hour of the morning and suggested you take a bath and get ready for the day in a well-meaning, but ultimately unsuccessful attempt to calm you down.

Finally, Natsai, Poppy, and Imelda awoke, and the house elf ushered them into the parlour as quickly as they were dressed. Imelda carried a cup of tea in with her, a scowl already plaguing her otherwise handsome countenance. Natsai and Poppy, on the other hand, wore looks that only read as confusion.

“Have you not slept, my darling?” Natsai asked and you shook your head vehemently.

“Oh, dear! Y/n, go to bed, please! You cannot go about your life exhausted,” Poppy said, placing a hand on your back as she tried to lead you to your room.

“Girls, I am not tired,” you said and sat Poppy down on the couch, “I have the most exhilarating, horrible, interesting, wild information to share with you about my time at the ball last night.”

This made Imelda’s ears perk up and her scowl softened slightly.

“I danced with Ominis Gaunt.”

“What?” Imelda gasped, placing her tea in her lap, “And you did not immediately tell me this in the carriage home?”

“I was far too flustered to speak about it then, Imelda!” You exclaimed, “He did not know it was me.”

“How did he not know? He may be blind, but he is not stupid — nor is he deaf, he must have recognised your voice at least,” said Imelda.

“I disguised myself as Natsai’s cousin, Tsitsi—”

“— I have no cousin Tsitsi,” Natsai interrupted.

“Well, you do now, and it is I,” you said firmly.

“How did you fool Mr. Sallow? I assume Mr. Sallow was with him?” Poppy asked, her attention entirely encapsulated by the scandal of the conversation.

“Nay,” you replied, “He did not see me. I fear I have trapped myself in a terrible lie, for I have yet again fallen in love with Ominis and know not how to tell him.”

“Yet again?” Imelda cackled, “You never fell out of love with him, Y/n. This is a continuation of love!”

“This conversation is all for naught,” Natsai said matter-of-factly, “He does not know it was you, he does not know where you live, so you will not see him again. Do not forget how he broke your heart, Y/n. Do not allow him to take hold of it once more.”

“Natsai,” you said gravely and she frowned in concern, “I told him our address.”

Natsai scoffed in a mixture of disgust and disbelief, and circled to the back of the couch so she could stare at the wall behind it instead of at your face which appeared to her in that moment as the face of a traitor to your own emotions. She could not fathom how you could be so easily deceived by your own heart (the very same heart which had not three years earlier been torn to shreds) to fall once again in love with Ominis Gaunt.

Had you forgotten how he betrayed you? How he strung you along for years like a guitar stuck playing a sad song? Had you forgotten how you ran to her in tears? To Natsai, it was only yesterday that she held you in her arms as you wailed that he was leaving you.

“I will not watch you carry the pieces of your heart back to him,” she said in a stern tone.

“My heart rebuilt itself the moment I saw him,” you told her.

She opened her mouth to say something more, but there was a knock at the door that made all four of you go silent. Your eyes made contact with Natsai’s first, but then moved over to Imelda’s as she shouted for one of the house elves to go see who was there. A little elf scrambled to the door and you faintly heard her talking to someone before she returned.

“There is a gentleman here for Tsitsi Onai,” said the house elf.

The frown on Natsai’s brow deepened, but you ignored her and went to the entryway. Ominis stood there in his day attire, fiddling with his cravat like he used to do with his tie at Hogwarts. He looked absolutely spectacular. Beside him was Sebastian, who stared at you as if he had seen a ghost, and then quite loudly announced your name, exposing you to Ominis.

“Ominis,” you said and his brows furrowed as he put two-and-two together.

You and Ominis were given space in the study while the girls entertained Sebastian in the parlour. The silence in the room was so quiet and all-encompassing that it seemed to make the room sharp and cold. Ominis was seated on the big leather chair while you leant against the desk with your hands folded in your lap.

“You lied to me,” he said finally.

“I was scared,” you admitted, “We did not leave on good terms. And to be truthful, I tried my best to escape you last night, but good manners kept me shackled to you.”

“Shackled?” he scoffed, “Well, I apologise that you had such a horrible time with me.”

“It is just like you to take that personally,” you rolled your eyes, “You had the blessing of ignorance, but I had to pretend as though everything was fine. As though I was not dancing and conversing with a man who could not care less about me.”

“It was not I who destroyed our bond,” said Ominis.

At that, you laughed loudly and sarcastically. You could not think anything but pure rage at his audacity.

“It was not I who invited you to the most romantic night of your life just to tell you that I was moving hundreds of kilometres away,” you said with venom on your tongue.

“I was going to propose to you that night!” Ominis’ voice raised and he stood up so he was facing down at you, “You kept asking me if I had some lint in my pants because I would not cease shoving my hand into my pocket — the ring was in there! And I thought that if you loved me you would ask me to stay.”

“I do love you! That is why I could not ask you to give up your career for me!” You shouted at him, your arms thrown wildly to the side, and tears pricking the corners of your eyes.

All time stopped. It did that excruciatingly painful thing where it drew itself out like a rubber band so that one second became one minute and one minute became one hour and one hour became a whole day. And then, once it felt like a week had passed, time started again, and you were right where you left off — attempting to breathe through your sobs so that the blind man in front of you could not hear you crying, even though you could see the tears on his cheeks.

“You love me?” Ominis asked.

“You were going to propose to me?” You said.

[foolsocracy]

Hi, hello, I’m new to your blog. I’ve made myself at home. Lovely carpet.

Can I please know more about your spider Robbie pie? Can’t seem to find the silverware.

but of course, kind anon

Spider Robbie is an au in which Robbie Robertson takes up the spider mantle after the death of the one before him. He is the third, following Ben Urich and, most notably, Peter Parker.

This au is very much canon divergence from Eyes Without a Face, where Peter makes it in time to save Robbie from his original fate but dies in the process. Peter is shot while rushing Robbie and the others out. In his panic and elation at finding Robbie physically unharmed, Peter outs himself as the Spider Man to his best friend. Robbie stays with him as he bleeds out and resolves to continue to hide Peter's identity.

Peter is buried and remains that way for... an undetermined amount of time.

Robbie is left with a mask, a jacket, and the question of just who was this other half of his friend. As he learns more of who this... Spider Man was, he gets more and more involved in the spider's cases and conflicts. Robbie gets more sure of his own abilities and makes a bit of a name for the Spider Man within his own community, though the people of Harlem are largely unaware that the appearances of a masked vigilante match the interests of one Robbie Robertson.

It is to be noted that none of these aforementioned abilities are spider-god-induced powers like Peter's. Robbie, especially at the beginning of his spidering career, leans more into Urich's role than Parker's. To me, Robbie has been passionate about the press and journalism in a way that Peter never was. For Pete, his job as a photographer and reporter was a job he took until he could get into college and study science. Robbie has a way with words and communication that Peter frankly lacks. Of course, that isn't to say that Robbie won't be kicking ass, because he will. It will just take him a bit of time to get some of those skills as he's, well, a normal guy. Not everyone can get their biology scrambled like Pete.

And just because Robbie hasn't been scrambled doesn't mean he's completely separate from all things supernatural either!

I think the marvel noir universe is at its best when there's a magical, supernatural undercurrent. This concept isn't super prevalent in the actual comics, but HoplesslyLost on ao3 has done some really cool world building with it.

I think in Robbie's case, where he would be the narrator, "magical realism" would be an interesting avenue to take it. I use this term in particular because I most closely relate it to Toni Morrison in my head, when I first learned about it through her work in high school. For Morrison, the concept was inseparable to blackness and I think for Robbie, where his blackness is so central to his character and his motivations, drawing on that could be more of a service to his character. It feels better to do that than ignore how incredibly racialized his society and story is. It will make his relationship with the spider god, Peter (who I will get to very very shortly), his community, and his own mythos as The Spider Man really interesting and complex.

So it's been established that Robbie doesn't have spider powers. And we all know that Peter did-- or should I say does. One of the spider god's abilities is to bring Peter back to life. She does this in the comics, but not in any of the runs from 2008-2010 (the runs that make up this au). When Peter dies on Ellis Island, he does not think he is coming back from that. Waking up again is a surprise.

Here's where I think the au really takes a left turn. Do I think the Spider God is purely evil and spiteful and has it out for Pete? No, not really. Will I be ramping said traits up to 11 for the au? Yeah, I guess I might. This is because I love a little bit of horror and the came back wrong trope. I will hopefully be fleshing the spider god out in the near future, but I really haven't given her the many hours of thought I have the other characters. For that I'm sorry spider god </3

Peter digs himself out of his grave, more spider than he ever has been. For much of his new, waking life he is more animalistic than not. There is clearly something wrong with him; his joints are too flexible and loose, he's got some eye-shine going on, his skin is pale and his veins are starkly dark beneath it. He's possessed. Someone is puppeteering him, someone who knows a lot-- almost everything about him, but it's clear that the someone isn't him.

And Peter--- the body, it can't be Peter. At least, that's what Robbie thinks when the figure catches his eye the first time. Because Peter is dead and buried, and he has been dead and buried for weeks.

[bucky-fricking-barnes]

Someplace Like Home

Title: Someplace Like Home

Pairing: Nomad!Steve Rogers x Reader

Word Count: 8.3k

Warnings: Canonical violence, minor injuries, minor blood, non-descriptive mentions of hospitals, mild language

Summary: Y/N owns a hostel in Croatia. When the very handsome Grant comes to work for her, she falls hard and fast for the new handyman.

A/N: This story takes place between Civil War and Infinity War, when Steve is on the run. There are a handful Croatian phrases/words used, which are translated at the end of this fic. Don’t ask me why all my Steve stories suddenly have foreign languages in them. As always, thanks for reading and supporting my writing in all the ways you do. Enjoy!

Dividers are by @firefly-graphics

Your morning starts off slow, like it always does, and after the handful of guests have finished breakfast and left to spend the rest of the day at the beach or in the mountains, you settle yourself behind the front counter and pull out your laptop. The dirty dishes can wait until later—Ana will be here in an hour, and she prefers doing the dishes over going over the books, so you have an unspoken deal that you’ll do the bookkeeping if she cleans up after meals.

You’re just opening up the software on your laptop when the front door opens. The bell above it jingles as a man steps in, bringing with him a warm gust of air. June has been unseasonably cool, but today is the warmest it’s been in weeks. You’ve kept most of the windows open all morning, even though it was still a bit chilly.

“Dobro jutro,” you greet. You carefully shift the laptop off to the side a few inches, being careful not to mess up the carefully arranged papers you’ve sorted out on the counter.

“Kako vam mogu pomoći?”

The man has a gray hiking backpack slung over his shoulder. He’s tall and blond, a dark blond that looks golden in the light from the outside but brown in the shadows. His thick beard and mustache are well-trimmed. You automatically open up the leatherbound reservation book and reach underneath the counter for a key. 

“Dobro jutro. Uh, govorite li engleski?” asks the man. He smiles politely, and you smile back, nodding.

“Of course,” you answer. “How can I help you?”

His eyes move to the pen in your hand, already poised over the next open spot in the reservation book. “I’m not here for a room. I’m here about the opening for a handyman.”

Surprised, you close the book again and tuck it back under the counter where it belongs, along with the key you’d grabbed. No one has come about the open position since you’d posted it months ago in the local cafe. Not even a sign outside the hostel has helped.

“In that case, my name’s Y/N. I’m the owner here.”

“Grant,” he replies, his hand already held out for you to shake.

You oblige with another smile. “It’s nice to meet you, Grant. Can I ask how you found out about the position? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you around town.”

He nods once. “I just moved here from Italy, and from Switzerland before that.”

“So you’re making your way through Europe, then?” you ask. You’re not entirely surprised—he looks rugged enough that he could handle a long backpacking trip or several months of solo travel, unlike some of the college students you normally have traipsing through your village.

“In a way,” he answers. “Truthfully, I’d like to settle down someplace, but it’s been a rough few years. I haven’t quite found the place that feels like home yet.”

Secretly, as you listen to him explain the various European cities in which he’s lived, you wish that he’ll come to feel at home here. Brdonik isn’t large enough to be on any maps, but it’s been your home for almost a decade now, and you can’t imagine a better place. The whole community bands together, and people look out for each other. There’s enough tourism from backpackers and small cruises that you’re not totally isolated, but you’re still far enough removed that your daily life isn’t saturated with commercialism and the big city nonsense you often hear about through your guests. You’d experienced it enough before coming to Croatia, and you don’t ever plan on going back to the life you’d had before you moved.

“To answer your question,”—Grant’s gentle continuation pulls you from your thoughts—“I saw a flier posted in the cafe down the street. I stopped there for lunch.”

“What did you order?” you ask. You prop an elbow up on the counter and level him with your gaze.

“Is that important?

“If you want this job it is. You can tell a lot about a person based on what they order at a restaurant.”

He smiles a little. “I got the turkey sandwich.”

You consider his choice for a moment before giving him a nod. “Simple, but respectable. A clear tourist choice, but I like it.”

“You can’t go wrong with a turkey sandwich,” he adds.

“It’s a classic!” You smile back at him and then come around the counter into the main part of the lobby. You grab your clipboard from its hook on the wall.

“Let me give you a tour,” you tell him. “I’ll point out some of the things that need fixing, and then you can tell me if you still think you’re a good fit.”

Grant agrees, and he walks beside you as you lead him through the hostel. You show him the currently unoccupied rooms, as well as the common areas, and you give him plenty of time to inspect the stalled projects and major fixes that he’d been in charge of. While he looks around, you watch him carefully. There’s something familiar about him, something you can’t quite put your finger on, but he doesn’t set off any alarm bells in your head like some of the previous candidates had. He’s respectful of the property and the few lingering guests you come across, and Grant is polite enough to open doors for you as you approach them. He speaks softly and clearly, and his sense of humor is well-timed. Somehow, despite his hulking frame and obvious strength, you feel safe around him.

Eventually, you lead him to your office. Grant takes the seat in front of your desk and you close the door behind him, then sit behind your desk and pull a pad of paper from the drawer. He’s almost too big for the chair you normally reserve for college-age backpackers looking for a few days of housekeeping work. He’s relaxed, though, and he rests both arms on the thin wooden armrests as you get out what you need. You sneak a glance at him as you sit upright again. His eyes move slowly and carefully over the framed photos and documents on the wall, taking in each one of them individually before he moves onto the next—your college diploma from NYU, a photo of you with your family the last time they came to visit, a certificate of operation from the local government. His backpack is leaning up against the front leg of the chair and his left leg, and you briefly wonder how he’s afforded to travel so much. The bag looks brand new, and high-tech, too. Is he a tech mogul of some kind? A grown-up trust fund kid? Did he steal it, or is he just really good with money?

“You’ll have to excuse me, I don’t have any questions prepared for you,” you tell him as you reach for a pen.

He nods and looks back at you. “You weren’t expecting me to walk in today, I understand.”

“Either way, I have to say that so far, I’m very impressed with you.” You glance up again and give him a polite smile, then look back down as you write his name and the date at the top of the page. “What did you say your last name was again?”

“Carter,” he says.

Nodding, you add that at the top and make your first bullet point.

“Grant Carter. Are you named after someone? That seems a pretty traditional name for a guy your age.” You immediately cringe at the question. “I’m sorry, that was inappropriate. You don’t have to answer that.”

Chuckling, Grant shakes his head. “No, it’s alright. My mother was a big fan of Ulysses S. Grant.”

“The 18th president?” you ask, grinning wide.

He nods and lets out another small laugh. “That’s the one.”

“He’s not normally up there on peoples’ lists of favorite presidents.”

“She had her reasons, I guess,” Grant shrugs.

You hum a little with a smile and look back down at your almost empty legal pad. You have a million questions that you want to ask, and more that you know you should, but you allow yourself to think for a moment before you look up again. Whatever you ask has to be the right mix of the two.

“You’ve lived in a lot of really impressive places,” you begin, and Grant nods in confirmation. “Why come here? There are plenty of larger cities with more job openings. Better paying job openings,” you add.

“You sell yourself short,” Grant easily replies. He sits forward a little, his elbows sliding closer to the ends of the armrests. “Your town is beautiful. It’s comfortable, and a bit secluded. I’m looking for something quieter.”

“A lot of people are, but we’re not often what they want in the long run. How long are you planning on staying?”

Grant stares at you for a long moment before he replies, “Until I’m needed elsewhere.”

You raise an eyebrow. “That’s a bit cryptic, so I hope you don’t mind if I ask for a clearer answer.”

“I plan on staying indefinitely, but if it changes, I promise you’ll be the first to know.”

Not quite satisfied with his answer, you still scribble down the response and make a second point on the next line down.

“Do you have handyman experience?”

Grant shakes his head. “But I’m a quick learner and I’m stronger than I look. Whatever I don’t already know how to do, I’ll pick it up quickly if I can get the information from someone or somewhere.”

I highly doubt you’re stronger than you look, you think, forcing yourself to look down at the paper and write, rather than at him. You already look pretty damn strong.

“Do you have a previous employer I can contact? Or references?”

“I can have that information to you by the end of the day.”

You nod and keep writing, and you don’t look up as you say, “We don’t typically provide housing for employees, as we’re a small enough village that commute isn’t an issue, but given that you’re new to town, I’m going to assume that you don’t have a place to stay yet.”

“No ma’am, I don’t.”

“I can get you set up in a room here, if that’s alright with you. I won’t expect you to work outside of normal business hours, except in an emergency, but that’s the same even if you lived off-property,” you tell him, looking up. You don’t lift your pen, and it’s a little satisfying to see that Grant looks mildly surprised. He doesn’t seem like the kind of person who could be surprised by anything.

“You’re hiring me?” he asks.

“Should I not?”

He quickly recovers and shakes his head, giving you a small smile. “I was just surprised that you’re not waiting until after you’ve seen my references.”

“Are you a horrible person?”

“I don’t think so, no.

“Are you a terrible employee?” you ask, putting your pen down on the desk.

“I’m loyal to a fault.”

“Should I be concerned about criminal activity?”

Grant laughs. “I’m a model citizen, though I did steal a piece of cake when I was a kid.”

“I’ll be sure to inform the local authorities,” you tease, grinning. You slide the notepad onto your desk and stand, holding out your hand for him to shake. Grant obliges. “You’re hired, Mr. Carter. If you’re ready, I’ll show you to your room so you can get settled in before your first day tomorrow.”

“I’d like that, thank you,” he replies.

“I won’t take the room out of your salary unless it prevents us from taking guests, but I don’t see that becoming an issue, except maybe in mid-July,” you tell him as you move around the desk to the door. “The handyman position pays 800 euros a month. You’ll be paid bi-weekly in check or cash, whichever your preference. We don’t have direct deposit here. If you need an account in town, there’s a bank down the road.”

“Cash is fine,” he says. He picks up his bag and swings it over his shoulder before following you back out into the hallway, then out to the lobby. You make a pit stop at the front desk to grab a key before heading up the main staircase.

The private, single person rooms on the third floor are a little older, and you briefly worry as you climb the stairs if the beds will be able to hold Grant’s weight. You don’t use them as often now that you’ve finished transforming the old hotel into a hostel. There’s a thin coating of dust on the handrail and you make a mental note to give this floor a thorough cleaning tomorrow while he’s occupied, that way you won’t be intruding. 

You lead Grant to the end of the hall, where the rooms are slightly larger and the windows overlook the ocean. While the view is great, most of your summer guests only fill the dorm-style rooms, so you’re fairly certain you won’t be missing out on any profit by giving him this room.

“Here we are,” you say, and you open the door before stepping aside so he can enter first.

Grant ducks through the doorway and flips the light switch, then looks around in silence. You wait in the hallway, holding your breath as he makes his inspection.

“This is nice,” he finally says, looking back at you. He drops his bag at the foot of the bed. “You’re sure it’s alright if I stay here?”

You wave one hand dismissively. “It’s fine.”

Your phone chimes in your back pocket and you pull it out, quickly reading the notification. It’s only mildly urgent, but you can feel Grant trying to look occupied as he waits for you to leave, so you look up and gesture back towards the stairs with your phone. 

“I’ve gotta take care of something, but you’re in luck. Every Thursday night we host a group dinner for the guests. The food is all cooked by a chef from a local restaurant in an attempt to promote the local cuisine, so you’re welcome to join us, or I can recommend some other restaurants in the area, if you want to explore a little bit more. We eat at seven.”

Nodding, Grant smiles and crosses the room to pull the key from where you’d left it in the lock. “I’ll see you at seven. It was nice to meet you, Y/N.”

“You too, Grant. Welcome aboard!” You smile once more, then turn and head back down the hall. His door closes as you reach the top of the stairs, and suddenly, you can’t wait for dinnertime.

You occupy yourself for the majority of the day by compiling a list of projects for Grant, as well as contacting the references he sends you using the email address on the hostel’s website. He gets glowing reviews from each and every person on the list, though they all seem a little confused when you first ask about him. 

Grant comes down to the first floor at five minutes to seven, and you’re just greeting the first small group of guests to arrive back from their excursions when he steps down from the bottom step. You glance over and give him a quick, acknowledging smile before turning back to the guests.

“Dobor dan! How was your time at the beach?” you ask. They reply politely in a mix of English and their own native language. You vaguely recognize it as French. You’re about to tell them in English about the dinner schedule, hoping that they’ll understand at least partially, but Grant begins talking in rapid-fire French before you even open your mouth.

It takes everything in you to keep your jaw from dropping straight through the floor. None of Grant’s references had mentioned he was bilingual, and neither did he. It feels like it should’ve been obvious, however, given that every single person he’d talked to had mentioned his incredible intelligence and ability to pick up skills quicker than anybody they knew.

Still, you watch in stunned silence from behind the front desk and Grant chatters with the guests. He leads them from the lobby and into the adjoining sitting area, where you hear them sit down and continue to talk. Someone laughs, and then Grant does, too. It’s a deep, mellow baritone, and you catch yourself grinning before you manage to stifle it.

When the next group of guests walk in, you guide them into the sitting room with the others. Grant catches your eye as you turn the corner, and when he smiles, you swear that your heart stutters in your chest.

He’s your employee, you chide yourself, and you turn your back on the group on the premise of prepping a plate of cookies for the coffee table.

“Dinner should be ready soon,” you say as you set the plate in the center of the group. Grant translates for you, first in French, and then in a language that sounds almost Spanish, but you know enough of that to know that it’s something different. All the guests nod in agreement.

You settle against one of the heavy wood bookshelves and watch quietly as Grant chats with the guests, switching fluidly between languages whenever he turns to a new person. It’s amazing, so you simply stay silent as you listen to the flurry of foreign words in the sitting room. You’ve never heard the pre-dinner conversation so lively. It brings a new warmth to the hostel, and you can’t help but smile as you watch the guests come alive, even though they’re exhausted.

“Dinner is ready!” Ana calls. She pokes her head in the door, and she smiles wide when she sees the guests talking excitedly. Every seat is taken. When she turns to look at you, you only grin.

“What’s going on?” she asks, stepping closer so she can lower her voice. “Who is that?”

You lean in, whispering, “His name is Grant. He’s the new handyman, and apparently, he speaks multiple languages.”

“Apparently?”

“I didn’t know when I hired him! This,” you gesture with one hand towards the circle of guests, who have started to rise now that Grant has passed along the message about dinner, “was a surprise to me, too. He just started talking to them on his own. I didn’t ask him to do anything.”

Ana raises her eyebrows, giving you a meaningful look. Before you can scold her for trying to meddle in your love life, she slips away and Grant appears at your side.

“Who is that?” he asks.

Goosebumps erupt on your arms at the sound of his deep voice so close to your ear. He’s leaned down so you can hear him clearly, and though he’s not quite in your space, he’s still close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating from him. It should feel stifling in the early summer heat, but it’s comforting, and you turn towards him with a bright smile.

“Ana. She’s the manager when I’m not here. I’ll introduce you later. How come you never told me you spoke all those languages?” you ask.

Grant just smiles back at you. “You never asked.”

“I’ll make sure to add that to my list of questions for the next time I have to hire someone.” You gesture at the line of guests filtering through the doorway to the hostel’s dining room. “We should eat. Most of the guests have spent all day hiking or at the beach, and they’ll be hungry. Our local chefs are all amazing, so the food always goes quickly.”

“What’s on the menu?” Grant asks. He starts to walk and you fall into step beside him, noting how he angles himself sideways and stoops through the doorway so that you’re not squashed into the doorframe. It’s a miracle he doesn’t hit his head on any of the lowered ceilings or hanging decor in the building.

I’ll have to warn him about the lights in the rooms on the second floor, you note.

“Punjene paprike. Stuffed peppers,” you translate. You pause and watch as the guests choose their seats, silently making sure there are enough chairs. When it’s clear you’ve done the math correctly, you look over at Grant. “How many languages do you speak?”

He shrugs and surveys the long table filled with food. People are already piling their plates high and chattering with their friends and family, and the room is filled with amicable noise. The sun coming in from the windows is golden. The windows face south, which is one of the many reasons why you’d first purchased the building. It needs a lot of work, and it always has, but the view of the ocean from the dining room windows, along with the way the sun illuminates the whole room, helps make all the work worth it.

“This place is beautiful,” says Grant, quietly. “You’ve done well.”

You look over at him, surprised at the praise. It warms you from the inside out, and you smile when he meets your eyes. “Thank you. I’ve worked hard.”

He nods, and after a moment, he gestures towards the table. There are two empty seats beside each other, near the far end of the room. Ana has taken the seat across from them and she’s already begun to eat.

You follow Grant across the dining room, and you try not to act surprised when he pulls out the chair and helps you sit before taking the spot beside yours. Ana catches your eye as you reach for a dish, but you look away. You can’t risk having her embarrass you in front of the guests.

Or Grant, the cheeky little voice in your brain adds, but you quickly push the thought to the far reaches of your brain. Showing your hand—and your burgeoning feelings for Grant—right now is something you need even less.

“So, you’re from New York?” he asks.

You look up from where you’re pulling a napkin into your lap. “What?”

“Your degree. It’s from NYU, so I’m assuming that you’re from the States.”

Nodding, you allow him to serve one of the peppers onto your plate, and you heap an extra serving of rice onto the side of your plate before handing him the bowl. You don’t want to assume he likes anything, especially since he ordered one of the most American things on the menu at the cafe.

“I am. I grew up in Manhattan, and I decided to stay there for college. Once I got my degree in hospitality, I decided it was time I see more of the world,” you tell him. 

“Why Croatia?” Grant asks.

You shrug and pick up your fork. “Honestly? I don’t know why. I didn’t even mean to come here. I ended up on the wrong train and decided to stick it out. I figured it would be a fun experience either way, but I fell in love with it here. On my second day here, I saw that this building was up for sale and I had just enough money in my savings to buy it. It was a big risk, but I think that it was worth it.”

He looks around the room, listening to the conversations for a few moments before he smiles. “I think so, too.”

“Where are you from?” you ask. “You’re clearly American.”

Grant laughs at that, nodding. “I grew up in Brooklyn. When I was old enough, I served in the army for a few years, and since then I’ve just been… traveling.”

The army thing makes sense, and you file that information away for later. The two of you start to eat, exchanging a few more words throughout the meal. Grant offers to help Ana with the dishes. She’s giddy at the proposal, so you let them head into the kitchen as you help guests arrange their plans for the next day. You find yourself straining to listen for the sound of his voice during the quiet moments, however, but by the time the dishes are finished, Grant tells you that he’s exhausted and he wants to get a good night’s rest before his first day on the job. You wish him goodnight from the front desk, then wait for Ana to appear and barrage you with a million questions about the new handyman.

You learn quickly that there’s even more to Grant than meets the eye. He’d been telling the truth in his interview—he’s deceptively strong, and he really does learn quicker than anyone you’ve ever met. His Croatian improves leaps and bounds in the first few months at the hostel. By the end of the summer, he’s practically fluent, even if he does bumble through some of the more complicated phrases with a faint blush on his cheeks.

The longstanding projects for the hostel are all completed by the end of August, leaving you scrambling to keep Grant busy. When you can’t find anything to do, however, he busies himself by exploring the far reaches of the island, speaking with the guests in a myriad of languages, and keeping you company in the lobby or in your office. His presence, which had once seemed much too large for the old brick building, has settled. He seems at home in the armchair you buy for the corner of your office, and he’s become a fixture in the doorway of the lobby, where he likes to stand and watch traffic pass by.

It’s on one of the hottest days of the year that you first get a glimpse behind Grant’s ever-friendly facade. You’re behind the desk, going through the reservations for the upcoming week, when there’s a shout from outside. The front door to the hostel is propped open in an attempt to let in a breeze, and Grant has taken up residence in his normal spot. You’ve only just processed the shout when there’s an explosion. The floor beneath you shakes and shudders, and you grip the edge of the desk in an attempt to keep upright.

Grant whirls around and fixes his eyes on you. He’s scanning you, up and down, searching for any sign of injury.

“Are you okay?” he asks. You nod, swallowing thickly, and peer over his shoulder. There’s no sign of what’s happened outside, but you can hear screaming and shouting. There’s a gunshot and you flinch.

“Stay here, and stay hidden,” says Grant, and you know in an instant that it’s an order. “Stay quiet and don’t let anyone in. Okay?”

Nodding again, you drop to a crouch, then curl up on the floor with your back against the desk. You clutch your phone in one hand and listen as Grant closes, then locks the door. When he doesn’t appear behind the desk, you crawl over to the side and look out into the small lobby. He’s gone.

Your arms shake beneath you and you have to fall back against the desk for support before you fall flat on your face. Squeezing your eyes shut, you listen to the commotion outside. There are no more explosions, but you hear more screams and shouts, followed by a crash and gunshots. Your heart pounds in your chest as the noise gets closer and closer. You know that Grant was in the army, so he must have military training, but the thought of him outside—the thought of him in danger—makes you want to puke.

There’s a thud against the front door and you flinch. Your body tenses and you curl up in the fetal position, trying to maintain your breathing. It doesn’t work, however, and when there’s another bang, you scream.

“Molim! Molim, let me in!”

You look around the edge of the desk again. It’s a woman on the other side, and the desperation in her voice propels you to your feet and into the lobby without a second thought. You twist the lock and yank open the door.

A slim woman dressed entirely in black grins at you. Her eyes are a shocking shade of electric blue and her teeth are bright white—a stark contrast against the mask that hides the rest of her features.

“Sorry, dragi,” she says, and you gasp when she reveals the gun in her left hand. With the other, she reaches out and grabs you. “You’re coming with me.”

“No!” You fight against the woman’s grip, and when you lift your eyes to search for help from someone else, you can’t believe what you’re seeing.

Grant is lifting a car off someone. He lifts the car and tosses it aside with a heave and a grunt, and then he’s fighting someone hand-to-hand. The man in black is clearly trained because he gets in a few hits, but Grant never stays down for long. He’s slowly forcing the man back down the street, towards the beach, instead of towards the line of shops that’s on the other side of the hostel.

There’s a blast as another explosive goes off, this time in a restaurant diagonal from your front door. Stone and rubble flies in every direction. The street is empty of people, thankfully, except for the people Grant is fighting. Somewhere down the street, a car alarm is going off, and the light from the harsh midday sun is almost blinding. Your ears are ringing from the blast and the alarm. You think you scream at some point, but you’re not sure.

The man that Grant has been fighting has been thrown back by the blast, but Grant is still standing, as if he’s anchored onto the pavement. There’s a metal car door in his hand. He’s gripping onto a piece of the leather interior, and the red painted finish on the outside has been battered by the flying debris. His chest heaves as he tries to catch his breath.

The woman drags you out of the hostel and onto the street. She wraps her arm around your shoulders and places the gun against the side of your head. You stop struggling then, and your breath catches in your throat as your heart begins to pound even harder. Your vision is going blurry along the edges, but not enough to miss the way Grant’s jaw clenches when he catches sight of you.

“Captain Rogers!” the woman shouts.

He throws a second man off of him and turns fully towards you and the woman. “Let her go!”

In your ear, the woman chuckles. It’s low and dark, and full of malice, and you shiver. You close your eyes and pray that it’s all just a bad dream.

“Not until you come with us,” the woman replies.

“Leave her and the others out of this.”

When you open your eyes, Grant is looking past you at the woman. The light reflects in his deep blue eyes, and it’s then that you realize what he’s been hiding from you.

How did I miss it before?

“Steve Rogers,” you choke.

He looks at you again. “Y/N…”

“You’re Steve Rogers.”

There’s a pause as he watches you with clear regret, and then the woman laughs, shocking you out of your revelation.

“How precious!” she exclaims. “Your little boss had no clue who you were?”

“Let. Her. Go.” Steve takes a step forward and the woman’s grip on you tightens. You can’t stop the whimper that escapes you when she pushes the gun harder against your head, making you crane your neck to one side.

Two new men in black come up behind Steve. He turns his head slightly, listening to their approach, but he doesn’t move. You can tell that he’s calculating what to do next.

There’s a moment of clarity as you watch them launch themselves at him. Steve fights like he was born for it—and maybe he was, you rationalize—and as he easily overcomes them both, you have a revelation that’s nothing short of a rock at the pit of your stomach.

Steve has to get out of this alive. So many people count on him, and they always have. Though you know that there are a lot of people all over the world who consider him a criminal, you also know that there are a lot of people just like you that think Steve deserves a place of honor for all that he’s done and all the sacrifices he’s made.

The safety on the woman’s gun clicks off and Steve freezes. The two men take advantage of that, and they grab his arms, pulling them tightly behind his back and pushing him to his knees. He falls with a grunt. One of the men grabs a fistful of his hair and yanks his head back until he’s looking at you and the woman from his place on the ground. He doesn’t fight back.

“Steve,” you plead. “You have to fight. You can’t let them take you.”

“I’m not leaving you,” he replies. He shifts his gaze to the woman without moving his head. “If I go with you, you’ll let her go?”

“You have my word.”

Heat swells in your eyes and you know that you’re about to cry. “No! Don’t trust her, Steve! You can’t believe her!”

The woman jostles you and you close your eyes on instinct. A tear slips down your cheek.

“Shut up,” she growls. 

You swallow thickly. At your sides, your hands and fingers have gone numb, and your legs are barely holding you upright. 

“Alright,” Steve agrees. “I’ll go with you.”

A sob bursts through and the woman releases you. She practically throws you to the ground, and you have just enough time to get your arms out in front of you before you hit the road. Pain shoots up both limbs and the pavement digs into your forearms. From where you lay, you watch the men pull Steve to his feet. He moves with them and doesn’t fight back as they drag him to a black cargo van on the perimeter of the blast zone.

“Steve!” you scream. Your voice breaks and your throat feels raw as you push yourself up and stumble in their direction. The movement sends pins and needles into your hands and feet, but you do it anyway. Your limbs feel completely out of your control as you attempt to go after them.

Steve looks back at you. He’s too far now for you to make out his expression, but you can see that he’s trying to tell you something. The man on his right shoves his shoulder and he’s forced into the van. 

“Let him go! Steve!” You start to sprint, running after the van as the back door slides shut and the woman, who climbed into the driver’s seat while you were getting to your feet, begins to navigate it through the rubble from the explosions. The tinted windows keep you from seeing Steve inside and your mind immediately goes to the worst.

“Someone help me! Stop that van!”

You run until you physically can’t. The van is long gone, and when you collapse onto the street, a crowd gathers around you. People are murmuring and asking you questions. There are too many hands, too many faces, even if many of them are familiar. Your vision swims as you’re rolled onto your back. The summer sun beats down on you harder, and you try to focus, but all you can manage is a mumble of Steve’s name before you lose consciousness on the pavement.

When you wake, the soft beeping noise is enough to tell you that you’re in a hospital. You open your eyes, expecting to be greeted by white walls and bedding, and maybe a wall of cabinets with a sink. Instead, there’s a slanted wall of glass windows, each separated by a pillar of concrete. Thin, almost invisible computer screens with golden text are scattered around your room, each displaying charts, figures, and data in a language you can’t read. Some are embedded into the walls on either side of the bed, while others float above white counters that look more like control panels for a spaceship. There are scans of someone’s body and brain—your brain, you realize after a long moment—that spin in circles on the floating screens.

A hiss makes you flinch, and you quickly look away from the brain scan to where a young, dark-skinned girl is walking in through a set of sliding glass doors you hadn’t seen before. Her white, high-necked sheath dress looks nothing like hospital attire, especially since it’s sleeveless and only has mesh to cover her shoulders and a few inches below her knees, but she’s holding a tablet and looks so serious that you wonder if maybe she’s not a regular doctor. After all, this doesn’t seem like a normal hospital. Where are you? Did the men in black come back to get you, too?

“Y/N, it’s good to see you awake. How are you feeling?” she asks.

Her accent is jarring, and you blink. When you go to speak, you have to lick your lips a few times. They’re dry, and your mouth feels so much like sandpaper that for a moment you don’t think you’ll actually be able to say anything at all.

“Where am I?” you finally ask in return. “Who are you?”

She smiles briefly and checks something on her tablet, then glances over at one of the floating screens off to the side. Seemingly satisfied, she locks the device and sets it aside.

“My name is Shuri. You’re in Wakanda. You will be safe here.”

You frown. “Wakanda?” None of the hospitals even remotely close to the hostel hold that name, not even in passing, but it sounds familiar.

“Yes. We’re friends of Captain Rogers. When we heard about his capture, and how you were involved, we brought you here.”

Tears burn hot in your eyes as the memories from the street outside the hostel come flooding back all at once. How long have you been in the hospital? Who’s looking for Steve?

“We have located him already,” she continues, and you inhale sharply, shifting in the bed as you reach up to wipe your face. “And the Dora Milaje has been sent to retrieve him.”

“The what?” you ask. Your voice shakes and you swallow hard in an attempt to steady yourself.

Shuri smiles again. “The Dora Milaje. They are our special forces here in Wakanda. Let me ask again, how are you feeling?”

You move in the bed a little bit more, testing your limbs for stiffness or pain. Surprisingly, there’s very little. “I’m… I’m okay, I think. Confused, mostly. Thirsty.” Your stomach growls, so you quickly add, “Hungry.”

She laughs and nods, then picks up her tablet. Shuri taps a few times before glancing down at something through the slanted windows. 

“Someone will bring you food shortly. I’ll also have someone come change the bandages on your hands and wrists. Your injuries are healing nicely. You should still rest a while longer, but I will make sure you’re notified when Captain Rogers has been safely returned.”

Nodding, you sit back against the pillows, but you quickly sit up again with a gasp. “The hostel! Ana!”

“We’ve sent someone to assist Miss Mitrovich in your absence,” Shuri soothes. She steps closer to the bed and you lie back as she approaches. “There were very few repairs that needed to be done to your building, but they are taken care of, and all your guests are safe. I have already dispatched a team of Wakandan specialists to help with the rebuild of Brdonik. We are also installing a security system in your building.”

You sigh in relief and close your eyes, swallowing against the dryness again. You lay in silence, listening to Shuri as she moves around the room and mutters to herself. When you finally open your eyes again, it’s because she’s greeting someone as the sliding glass doors hiss open for a second time.

“Grant,” you murmur, and he gives you a weak smile from just inside the doorway. You correct yourself, shaking your head. “Steve.”

“Grant is my middle name,” he quietly explains. “And Carter…”

“Agent Carter,” you finish. “I see the connection now.”

While waiting for your food, you’ve slowly been piecing together the different parts of Steve’s life that you knew, trying to get the full picture. You’ve known him personally as Grant, the quiet man from Brooklyn that is good with his hands, always knows exactly what to say when you’re in a bad mood, and is a hit with every guest that crosses your threshold. On the other hand, you also know him as Steve, the All-American super-soldier that’s plastered across every history textbook you’ve ever been given. He’s also the super-soldier that you’ve watched on the news, listening to reporter after reporter praise him like he’s a god, then publicly curse and shame him on their next breath.

Shuri quietly excuses herself. You stare at Steve as she leaves through the sliding doors behind him. There’s a cut above his right eyebrow, and blood caked in his beard, right below a nasty split in his lower lip. He’s standing lopsided, like he’s keeping the weight off his right foot, and he looks like he could use a shower and a long nap.

“Are you okay?” you ask.

He nods again. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For dragging you into this,” Steve answers. He sighs. “For getting you hurt. For putting you in danger.”

You shake your head and sit up a little more in the bed, allowing the pillows to prop you upright. “None of this is your fault.”

“It is, and—”

“And nothing,” you interrupt. You give him a stern look and he presses his lips together with a wince. “You didn’t know that there was any danger. If you had, wouldn’t you have left?”

After a second, Steve nods, and you continue,

“And if you’d been able to stop it from happening, you would’ve, right?”

Another nod and you smooth the surprisingly soft hospital blanket over your legs.

“Then it’s not really your fault, Grant. Steve,” you correct again, more firmly this time. You’re still coming to terms with the fact that he’s not 100% who he said he was.

“But you still got hurt. I still put you in danger just by being there. I shouldn’t have stayed as long as I did. I got too comfortable, and too close, and I was careless.”

You purse your lips and watch him for several moments. Steve stays still under your inspection, waiting for you to say something.

Finally, you tell him, “I don’t regret what happened, and if I had the chance to go back in time and change things, I wouldn’t. I’m not in mortal danger, and you’re safe again. The hostel is being taken care of. None of the guests got hurt. Tourism might be down for a couple months but…” You shrug. “It’s the end of the busiest season anyway, and I have enough savings that I’m not going to worry.”

Steve shakes his head at you, then turns to look at the screens. He doesn’t seem to be actually reading them, but he puts his hands on his hips as he stares at a spinning scan of your hand and wrist.

“Do you regret it?” you ask.

He turns back. He’s silent for a few seconds as he watches you fidget with the hem of the blanket in your lap. “No,” Steve finally replies. “I don’t.”

“Me neither.”

When he doesn’t move, you swing your legs over the edge of the bed. You’re not dressed in a normal hospital gown—someone has put you in leggings and a tunic of some kind—but you still shiver when your bare feet touch the floor.

“Y/N—” Steve limps towards you, holding both hands out to steady you if you lose your balance. You don’t, and he stops a few feet away.

“I don’t regret any of it, Steve,” you say. You start to close the distance between the two of you even more. “Not a single minute.”

“Volim te,” Steve murmurs.

You freeze, now within arm’s reach. “What?”

“Volim te.”

Your brain is working a mile a minute to catch up with what he’s said. Steve shifts in place, wincing as he transfers the weight to his injured leg. 

“You should get that checked out,” you quietly tell him, glancing down at his leg.

He stares at you, as if he was expecting a different response. You know he was, but you’re suddenly so overwhelmed by everything that it’s the first thing out of your mouth. 

“I—” You close your eyes and shake your head, letting out a small self-conscious chuckle. “I’m sorry. I love you too, Steve. I do. I love you. I don’t— I don’t know why I said that. I guess I’m just worried—”

He cuts you off by stepping into your space and cupping your face with one hand. His fingers thread up into your hair and he tilts your head back so he can press his lips to yours. Your arms fall limp at your sides for a second, but then your brain catches up. You close your eyes and reach up to put one hand on the back of his neck. The other slides around his waist, pulling him closer as he kisses you.

Steve’s body is warm and though he winces with pain, then pulls away slightly to touch his fingers to his busted lip, neither one of you actually moves away from the other. You stay close enough to feel the heat from his breath on your skin.

“You need to eat,” he murmurs.

“And you need a doctor,” you reply.

He smiles a little, more just pressing his lips together than anything, and kisses your forehead. You close your eyes again when he lingers.

“Don’t go,” he says as you step away. 

You frown and crowd close again, and you place both hands on his chest. “Steve?”

“No. I mean, you should go now, but…” He struggles for a second, trying to find the words he wants to say, and you wait patiently. “What I meant was: Don’t go back to Croatia. Stay with me.”

“What about the hostel? What about Ana and the guests?”

“I’ve heard you say a thousand times that she could probably run the place on her own. Plus, it’s the end of the busiest season, and after everything that’s happened, tourism will probably be low. You said it yourself.” 

Steve reaches up to pull your hands off of him, but he holds them and rubs little circles over your knuckles with his thumbs. He watches you carefully, giving you his full attention. His eyes are deep and blue, and the crinkle between his eyebrows has disappeared completely now that he’s sure you’re okay.

“So, what? I’d stay here in Wakanda? What would I do?” you ask, frowning. “They don’t really have tourists here, do they? It’s not like they need a hostel.”

“No, but I need a partner.”

“Don’t you already have partners, Steve? What about the Falcon? Or Black Widow? Or even your friend that you told me about—James? Isn’t he a superhero, too?” 

Shaking his head, he answers, “That’s not the kind of partner I need, Y/N. I don’t need a partner to fight with. I need a partner that I can live with. Someone to make a home with.”

You stare at him for a second, allowing your brain to process what he’s just said, and then you give him a slow, sly smile. Inside, you’re giddy and jumping up and down, but all you do is pull your hands in a little more so he has to step closer to you.

“Steven Grant Rogers, are you asking me to move in with you?”

“I guess I am.” His ears are starting to turn a bright shade of pink, and it’s beginning to creep along his cheekbones as well, just above his beard. 

Steve’s still holding your hands captive, so you simply raise an eyebrow. “Do you have a place to live here in Wakanda? Or are we going to be staying here in my hospital room until you find one?”

He shrugs and grins back at you. “King T’Challa gave me an apartment.”

“The king gave you an apartment?” You pull your hands away and step back. You can’t hide your disbelief, though deep down, you figure it’s very likely that the king tried to give Steve more. He’s a hero, even if most of the world doesn’t believe it.

“The princess was just in here going over your medical information, and you’re shocked that he gave me an apartment?” Steve asks, a smirk on his face.

You gape at him even more. “You’re kidding. Steve, that was not—”

“Princess Shuri. She’s made most of the technology around here, and she oversees the recovery of important patients. Like you,” he adds.

“If I’d known—”

He leans in and kisses your forehead again. “You don’t need to bow or anything. They don’t do that here, though I’m sure she’d appreciate a thank you the next time you see her. Maybe compliment one of her inventions. T’Challa says she likes that.”

“The next time?” you hiss. “Steve—”

This time, he laughs at you. It’s a full-bodied laugh, unlike the sparse chuckles you’ve gotten out of him since his return, and you relax. You smile, too, a real smile that makes your cheeks ache as you press your burning face against his chest. Steve wraps his arms around you. His body shakes as he laughs, but he quickly settles down and kisses the top of your head.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” you tell him, not letting go. In fact, you hug him tighter around the waist with both arms.

“Me too. Come on, ljubavi. Let’s go home.”

Dobro jutro = Good morning

Kako vam mogu pomoći? = How can I help you?

Govorite li engleski? = Do you speak English?

Dobor dan = Good afternoon

Molim = Please

Dragi = Darling

Volim te = I love you

Ljubavi = Love/my love

Thank you for reading! If you liked this, please consider reblogging my work so that others can enjoy it too.

I do not consent to have my work posted, translated, or published to any third party site or app. If anyone sees my work anywhere other than my personal tumblr, Patreon, or ao3 accounts, it has been reposted without my permission.

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Forever: @aya-fay

Steve Rogers: @lipstickandvibranium​ @delicatecapnerd

[theatricalmage]

The brainrot took over and so here's a vat7k hadestown au!! Don't know if I'll develop it fully but I liked designing it at least!

More info under the cut:

- Varian, the Coronan royal alchemist, tasks himself with deciphering an incantation capable of bringing the world back into tune. Times are tough, and the royal family + Quirin are doing their best to cope with the meagre crop yields and desolate weather (Corona not really being the sunshine kingdom - hasn't been for a while). He wants to help and do good and I think he'd be a good Orpheus.

- Hugo, having moved about from place to place, still has his interest in alchemy and does what he can to get by. He plans on temporarily staying in Corona before looting, but he encounters a certain like-minded scientist at the Snuggly Duckling. I think him being selfish works especially well in Eurydice's role, having a more pessimistic view of the world. It also works with how he gets drawn to Donella's offer of working for her later on, leading him to his death.

- Ulla as Persephone! I was initially stuck on whether to have Rapunzel (and either Eugene/Cass) as her (and Hades) but I was drawn to the connection that Hugo has to Donella and the Donella/Ulla relationship in vat7k just works too well. In this case, Ulla won't be Varian's mother. She's still gonna be somewhat of an inspiration to him though, being the previous Coronan royal alchemist and for her intelligence. For half the year, she'll return to Corona with food, drinks, and alchemical compounds/inventions, bringing Spring and Summer to the world, if only for a bit.

- Donella would be such an interesting Hades, losing sight of her love for Ulla, heart filled with fear and hurt, leading to bitterness and cruelty. Ingvarr being Hadestown and how by being the esteemed Ingvarrian engineer, she'd be in charge of major technological advances across the kingdoms and so would wield a significant amount of power (like how Hades is literally the ruler of the underworld). Ingvarr essentially being a near death sentence for its workers while also displaying its technological prowess, all still shrouded in mystery and corruption - a place so otherworldly compared to the rest of the kingdoms.

I didn't want to modify the outfits too much nor the personalities,, if anything I imagine the general plot beats being the same as the original musical/story but with slight differences that'd you get inherently as a result of these characters. I wouldn't want it to be the case where it's just the show but the names are changed. I'd want this to still make reasonable sense in this AU, with the actions being understandable for this particular cast of characters.

For Hermes, I ended up picking Xavier, as he's most knowledgeable of old legends and stories, which would work in reference to the Hades and Persephone myth (and so Donella and Ulla)! He'd act as a mentor figure for V, someone who can guide him in uncovering the forgotten incantation. Quirin would still be the good supportive dad he is (even if he doesn't fully understand his son's project).

Last but not least, the fates!! often lurking in the background, I'm still a bit stuck on who it could be? I'm tempted to have it be Raps, Cass, and Nuru as they've had celestial connections at some point (and ya know how stars can represent fate), but I also love the freckled siblings dynamic so much. Also Team Radical... Maybe Raps and Cass can be their normal selves but their Sundrop/Moonstone counterparts are the manifested physical forms of the fates? They wouldn't be visible to the characters though, just voices in the wind.

Anyways yeah!! Those are my thoughts. Do let me know if you've got any cool ideas or questions. I'm really combining my interests at full force and there's nothing anyone, not even myself, can do about it quite frankly. 😮‍💨

[kissesfrombangtanatnight]

He Visits You At The Salon : Jey Uso

JEY. You had told your husband not to even try to make plans for you today because you already knew you'd be spending the entire day, or almost the entire day at the hair salon. But he already knew the deal, especially when you were getting your hair braided. Today you're getting a shampoo and conditioner treatment and some medium knotless braids down to your calves. It was already one in the afternoon and your stylist was less than halfway done.

You're sitting quietly as all of the women engage in conversation, some about relationships, men, politics, the culture etc.

"Girl so yeah, she caught his trifling ass cheating with his ex. I knew he wasn't done fucking around with her." One of the other women says as she gets her hair done. You sit quietly just taking in your surroundings.

"But are we really surprised? That's how some men are. They throw a ring on these little girls hands, but be missing what they had in other women. Like, come on sweetie, you know where home is. Chile, my ex's still be hitting me up trynna talk to me. I'm like, if your girl only knew. But I get why you're missing me, cause I'm the standard." You hear Jakayla say as you can't help but let out an inner laugh.

Long story short, she's your husband, Joshua's bitter ex-girlfriend. She cheated on him with a old friend of his and when he leveled up to you, she's been bitter and delusional ever since. Shading you every time you come in the salon, on social media posting cryptic messages etc. But you never gave this bitch an centimeter, hell an inch of your damn time. She wasn't worth it because at the end of the day, you knew your man loved you and was 100% loyal to you. And he wasn't going any damn where.

Your best friend Brenda looked at you from the corner of her eye and you immediately knew you and her were thinking the same thing. How desperate she was trying to make you feel insecure, but it sure as hell wasn't going to work. You not only had the ring, but you had his last name and you had his heart, which is more than what this bitter bitch can ever say she had.

Another reason you weren't going to entertain it is because you knew some of these bitches in here were messy and loved drama. If it weren't for you having the same stylist for the past ten years, you'd be going else where. You continue scrolling on your phone, texting in the family group chat.

"Aye y/n, ain't that your man?" Everyone looks up to see your husband, Joshua heading towards the salon with food and a small flower bouquet in his hands. Your best friend looked at you with a smirk on her face. You smile as he walks into the salon.

"Hey ladies, how's everybody?" He greets politely.

"Heeey Jeeeey." They all say collectively except Jakayla. She sat there with her arms folded and a stank look on her face, along with her stupid ass friends.

"Hey baby." He says walking over to you and bending down to your level and pecking your lips multiple times. The coolness from his gold chain lightly hitting against your skin. You remember being in this position last night as he was eating the fuck outta..nevermind chile. You could feel all eyes on you and your man, but you didn't care. You loved kissing him.

"Hey baby, this for me?" You squeak with a huge smile on your face. He hands you your food and flowers. "Thank you. Where you just coming from?" You ask trying not to look down at his dick print in his grey hoochie daddy shorts. He knew those were your favorite on him.

"Just coming from Mike's, I got another tattoo." You playfully roll your eyes.

"You and your tattoo obsession babe." You joke diving into your food. Your stylist walked away momentarily for you to eat. "What you get this time?" Last month he'd gotten a beautiful palm tree tatted on his side.

"I got your name." He says pulling up his shorts down slightly for you to see your name tatted on v-line. Lord knows you were getting damp just thinking about how nice that was gonna look as you gave him hea....nevermind! "I didn't come to stay I just wanted to bring you something to eat since I knew you were gonna be here all day Mrs. Fatu." He says locking you in as he placed his hands on both sides of your chair and bending down in your face. You could smell the mint on his breath as he smiled down at you. You were so in love with this man, he just didn't understand.

"Why you all in my breathing space? Back up." You smile looking up at him.

"Oh so now I'm bothering you? I'm in ya face, now what? What...you...gon...do...bout...it?" He says each word in between kisses, causing you to break into a laugh. 

"Stooop bae." You say even though you really don't want him too. You're lost in his eyes.

"I'll see you at home okay? I'm gonna go shoot some pool with the bros." He says grabbing your hands and kissing your knuckles.

"Okay, I'll see you later. Gimme kiss." You say standing to your feet as he wraps his arms around your waist so delicately as if you're some fragile doll. He captures your lips in his in a passionate kiss. You bite his bottom lip playfully as he squeezes your hip in a warning tone.

"Don't start y/n, I'll have you bent over this damn chair knockin them braids loose." He smirks. You throw your braids over your shoulder laughing.

"I'll see you at home silly bye. I love you."

"I love you too. Alright ladies I'm out, y'all have a good one." He says throwing up the peace sign.

"You too Jeeeey." You playfully roll your eyes. As you watch him leave.

"I love that man." You mumble.