#sorry for the sharp jumps in quality

[scruncheduppaper]

“it’s not you.”

[docdudo]

Hybrid 141 As Parents - Foster Human Child!Reader (Part 7)

You and Johnny were at a standstill. You woke up not long ago from your nap, still safely tucked to his side in the nest in an almost claustrophobic way. You were ready to just get up and leave this situation, but Johnny didn't really let you, actually still insisting on playing with you, which resulted in now.

Both of you were staring eachother. You were satting quietly against the nest border as Johnny laid hid big body across the nest easily, laid on his side as he smiled smugly at you, hand holding his head up, his other hand resting quietly near your little feet. If you tried scooting backwards, he would pull you back easily with just a small tug.

"Pup, come on, ya knae ya want to play a wee bit~" He almost singsongs, voice low and provocative...

Still a bit babyish too.

"Wanna play tag?" As you shake your head quietly, he crawls a bit closer, keeping his big body somehow lower than your sitting position. "No tag? I'll play nice, papa always play nice!" He smiles big, sharp and long teeth on display, making you tremble a little.

You still shake your head, embarrassed.

"Hide 'n seek?" He pouts exaggeratedly, long, fluffly ears pinned back on his head. It looked... kinda cute, but you still shook your head a little. "Come on, Lass.... It'll make ya good to move around a wee bit..."

"Don't wanna play..." Your murmur quietly, still pretty much shy around them.

Johnny lets out a little whimper at that, which immediatly startled you a bit at the high pitched sound.

"How about... just a walk around, yeah?" He suggests gently, only to immediatly sit up a bit, getting excited about his own idea. "Oh, yeah, yeah, let's go for a walk, wee pup! That way, you can get to knae the place around the house, aye?"

"If they are going for a walk outside, they need to be properly dressed." Kyle casually remarks as he comes inside the room out of nowhere, clothes in hand. "It's already getting dark, and the temperature is dropping. Price said that it's threatening to snow tomorrow." "Already??" Johnny growls slightly, and that immediatly makes you jump back a little on the nest. "Oh, nae, nae, it's okay, pup, i'm so sorry, wee pup, come 'ere." He changes tones quickly, leaning over you to coo gently as he paws the blanket tangled around you, pulling you closer.

"Unfortunately." Kyle huffs a little, wings shuffling behing his back, getting fluffly. "I though we would have more time."

Johnny hums, frowning as he considers what to do next, his hands holding you to his chest, even as you squirm a little.

"It's probably okay for a human, aye?"

"If they are properly dressed, yes. Come here, chick." You didn't have time to react as Kyle bend down and picked you up on his arms, the blanket still wrapped around you.

Johnny got up too, stretching like a real dog as he watched Kyle gently set you down on the carpet and pat your clothes, straightening the sweater and pants that got rustled after your nap.

"Give me your hand, chick." Kyle smiles easily, gently, grabbing your hand after you hesitantly lifted it. "John got good things, thank god. This gloves and hat feel very warm."

"It has to be, right? Weren't them in a store that caters to humans too?" Johnny kneeled down by you, watching faithfuly as Kyle gently put the thick wool gloves on your little hands.

"Yeah, but you know how it is. They say they cater to these less common races, but in the end it's just a marketing scheme." Kyle roll his eyes slightly, once again dropping out of the gentle persona he usually adopts when near you. "But these are fine, they feel thick and warm, the wool is good quality, the type that will isolate the heat nicely."

Kyle picked up the new thick jacket they got you at the store, quickly helping you into it, zipping it up tight over the sweater. It did feel warm, almost too warm to your already warm room.

"And here's your beanie, Lass!" Johnny smiled big, picking up the wool beanie and using one of his big hands to push your hair back flatly, your eyes squinting at the action as you feel the hat being placed expertly on your head. "Does it feel warm?"

You nod quietly, feeling a bit too wrapped up in your new clothes.

"Good! Let's put on your shoes and go outside, aye?"

It didn't take long for the three of you to be making your way downstairs, immediatly caughting Simon's attention as he frowned.

"You're leaving?" He asks gruffily, posture immediatly changing as he crossed his thick arms over his chest, still frowning.

"Aye, going outside with the lassie to exercise a little!" Johnny quickly smiled, nodding as his tail wagged behind him.

"It's late."

"It's like, 6:30 p.m." Johnny smiles back, rolling his eyes a little.

"It's cold outside."

"They're wrapped up." Kyle adds, smiling a bit too smugly.

Simon squinted his eyes a little more, annoyed, which only made the younger two laugh with a bit too much arrogance.

"Stop going all mama bear, Si, they're gonna be fineeeeeeee~" Johnny laughs, gently nudging you towards the front door.

Simon growls quietly at that, but cuts himself off almost immediatly as they see you weaken your steps.

"I just don't like the idea of having them outside at this hour and at this weather." He replies, voice heavy and low, almost growled out.

"It's not good for them to be cooped up inside all the time." Kyle points out, Johnny quickly nodding to agree with his mate.

Both harpies and werewolves are very active and outdoors' species. Contrary of Wraiths, obviously.

"Let them go, Simon. It's good for the kid to walk a little too." John raises his voice for the others to hear him from the kitchen.

Simon huffs, but his posture relax slightly. He glances at you, that is obediently still by the door, Johnny big presence pressed against your back as he still smiles smugly at Simon.

"Be careful, eyes on them all the time, don't start with your little games yet, this is a little human kid we are talking about." Simon speaks slowly, clearly holding back on a growl as his fingers started to let out small wisps of shadows.

"I knae, Si! What do ya take me for?? 'M nae dimwit!" Johnny huffs, rolling his eyes before he lets out a big grin right after. "I'm not play wrestling this wee baby yet, it's just a little walk!"

"God, I also want to let loose and fly a little..." Kyle huffs a bit, stratching his wings, tho quickly tucking them back when he saw you take a small step away in intimidation. "But I'll let that for later. I'll help John with dinner."

"Be back before dinner." Simon warns Johnny once again, that just throws a mock salute his way and steps out of the house, taking you with him.

"Right, mama bear! We'll be right back!"

"Don't compare myself to the likes of Nikolai." Simon huffs as he turns away from the now closed front door, going to the kitchen to both help the other two with dinner and to watch Johnny and you outside the kitchen window.

Part 6 / Part 8

[pupkashi]

a/n: i just wanted to write abt yuta being scary and sexy so here is my word vomit

masterlist

thinking abt bf!yuta who looks and acts so pathetic around u but is so protective and intimidating

yuta is so helplessly in love and devoted to you, even a blind man can feel the love he has for you a mile away. yuta is the first to laugh at your jokes, the first to tell you happy birthday and congratulate you on everything. he’ll give you anything you want the minute you ask for it, no matter what it is.

yuta doesn’t get into arguments with you, he’ll apologize for whatever he did wrong and prove to you he’ll never make the same mistake again. he’ll shower you in gifts and acts of service and spend as much quality time with you as you want.

there isn’t a thing he wouldn’t do for you.

yuta okkotsu isn’t the beefiest man on the planet, nor is he the tallest. but he is the most intimidating when he wants to be. and whenever anyone is a little too friendly with you, he definitely wants to be.

it’s only been two minutes since he left to the use restroom and there there some douchebag was, trying to flirt with you. it makes his blood boil, seeing someone who isn’t him be that close to you, trying to buy you a drink as you politely decline him.

it takes only a moment for yuta to walk up to you, snaking his arm around your waist and pulling you close to him.

“who’s this, angel face?” he asks you, his voice is soft and sweet as he speaks to you, but his eyes are sharp and venomous as he stares at the other man.

“he just was talking to me about some sport, he’s nobody yuu” you smile, trying your best to contain the situation while you could.

“yeah i was just leavin, don’t wanna waste my time on something used” the man snorts, turning around before his body is jolted backwards as yuta grabs his wrist.

the man immediately cried out in pain, knees buckling as yuta’s grip only tightened. “how ‘bout you quit crying and apologize,” yuta taunts, jaw clenched as his grip grew stronger.

“baby please i don’t want a scene” you plead, squeezing his arm and forcing him to look at you. yuta always thought your eyes were so alluring. something about them brought him a sense of serenity he never thought was possible.

“okay” he mumbles, letting go of the man’s wrist, rolling his eyes as the man cradled his now broken wrist, crying out about his pain and running the opposite direction.

the two of you don’t stick around, walking out into the hot summer breeze before you stop, hands on your hips as you stare at your lover.

“yuta” your tone is more than enough to stop him dead in his tracks, slowly turning on his heel with a sheepish smile on his face.

if you didn’t know your lover, you never would’ve guessed that the man who’s a stuttering and blushing mess in front of you broke a man’s write for flirting with you.

his shoulders are slouched a bit, strands of black hair framing his face perfectly as he tried his best to defend himself.

“I’m sorry darling” he begins, already giving you the puppy eyes you fall for, “i couldn’t just stand by and let some scumbag try to talk you up without-” you cut him off by grabbing his hand and pulling him to sit with you on a nearby bench.

“pretty boy, you know I’m only yours right?” the words make yutas fave flush a deep red, nodding softly as he looks at the ground. “you don’t have to fight or threaten every person who gets too close to me, i can handle myself” you explain.

“you shouldn’t have to” yuta mumbles, looking at you with a small pout. “i wanna be the one to protect you,” he sighs, “i wanna let the world know that they shouldn’t even think about trying anything with you.”

there’s a beat of silence and yuta is about to apologize again before you’re crashing your lips onto his. it’s a shock to him, but he immediately kisses you back, smiling when you bite his bottom lip softly.

“cmon let’s go home,” you smile, laughing when yuta practically jumps up, back to his sunshine smile as he intertwines his fingers with yours.

“you wanna make some cookies and watch a movie?” he asks, swinging your held hands as you two walks together down the empty street.

“you read my mind, pretty” you grin, leaning into him as the two of you walked, loving how he instinctively put his arm over your shoulder and kissed the top of your head.

there’s not a care in the world for you. you’d never have to look over your shoulder or carry a weapon with you. as long as yuta was by your side the only thing you’d have to worry about is stopping him from killing anyone who hurt you, intentionally or not.

[deonsx]

bachira, isagi, rin, (add ur favs if you want <3) with reader who’s love languages are like quality time, physical touch, words of affirmation + is pretty talkative and social feeling annoying?? like reader yapping away and sometimes realizing it could be boring, or reader always liking being close to them but pulling away sometimes for seemingly no reason cause they don’t wanna be a bother? (Also sfw pls I am asexual :3)

muah muah have a nice day/night drink lots of water!!! remember to take time for yourself!!!

heyaaaa im here again!!! i love this cutie rq lets do this also im adding^^ +Nagi,Sae,Kaiser

Rin Itoshi

He’s used to solitude and silence, so your constant chatter initially feels like an intrusion into his carefully constructed world

But over time, he notices how your voice fills the spaces he didn’t realize were empty. Even if you’re rambling about something he doesn’t fully understand, like the plot of a drama you’re watching or a funny story from work, he listens. He’s a quiet listener, his sharp eyes fixed on you while you speak, occasionally nodding or offering a low hum of acknowledgment

Sometimes, though, you realize you’ve been talking too much. You falter mid-sentence, worry flickering across your face. “Sorry, I’m probably boring you” you mumble, starting to pull away, both physically and emotionally. Rin frowns when this happens. “You’re not” he says, his tone firm. “Just… keep talking” It’s not a grand declaration, but it’s enough to keep you going

Your love for physical touch throws him off guard at first too. You’ll casually lean against him while watching a movie or brush your fingers against his when you’re walking together. He stiffens initially, unsure how to reciprocate, but he doesn’t pull away. In time, he grows used to your closeness, even coming to crave it

But there are moments when you suddenly withdraw. Maybe you were resting your head on his shoulder but then sit up, or you pull your hand back from his. Rin doesn’t understand why you do this and it frustrates him

One evening as you sit together on the couch, you shift away after being snuggled against him for a while. He grabs your wrist gently, stopping you “What are you doing?” You hesitate, avoiding his gaze. “I just… I don’t want to annoy you. I know I can be too much sometimes”

Rin’s grip tightens ever so slightly, his expression unreadable. “You’re not annoying.” His voice softens, a rare moment of vulnerability breaking through. “If I didn’t want you here, I’d tell you” It’s a simple reassurance, but it means everything coming from someone like Rin. Slowly, you relax and lean back into him. He doesn’t say much else, but the way his hand lingers on yours, grounding you, says enough

Bachira Meguru

Bachira genuinely enjoys hearing you talk. Whether it’s about your day a funny story or some random thought that popped into your head he listens with a wide grin his golden eyes sparkling with interest. Sometimes he even adds to your rambles tossing in jokes or exaggerated reactions that make you laugh

“Wait wait so you’re telling me the cat jumped on the table during the meeting? Was it secretly trying to take over the company?” he says dramatically making you giggle until your sides hurt

He never makes you feel boring. Instead he thrives off your energy loving how your conversations never seem to end. But the moment you start doubting yourself maybe mid-sentence when you realize you’ve been talking for a while he notices right away

“Am I talking too much?” you ask your voice suddenly hesitant. Bachira tilts his head confused “Huh? No way!” He leans closer his nose almost brushing yours. “I like your voice. Don’t stop now you were telling me about that weird customer!”

Your love for physical touch is something Bachira immediately embraces. He’s naturally affectionate and loves being close to you whether it’s linking arms holding hands or draping himself over you while you sit together. You’re like his personal magnet if he’s in the room he’s going to find his way to you

“Bee I need to cook dinner” you protest one evening as he hugs you from behind his chin resting on your shoulder “Mm but you’re so comfy” he murmurs nuzzling into your neck “Can’t I stay here? Pretty please?”

Sometimes though you pull away unexpectedly. Maybe you feel like you’re overwhelming him or being too clingy. Bachira notices this too. The first time it happens he blinks in confusion watching as you slide to the other side of the couch or step away from his playful embrace

“Why’d you move?” he asks pouting slightly “I just… I don’t want to bother you” you admit avoiding his gaze

Bachira’s expression softens and he wastes no time closing the gap between you again. He cups your cheeks in his hands his thumbs brushing lightly against your skin “Bother me? That’s impossible.” His voice is soft but filled with conviction. “I like it when you’re close. You don’t have to pull away okay?”

The reassurance in his tone makes your chest feel lighter and you smile “Okay” Bachira thrives in your shared chaos loving every moment of your affection and chatter. To him you’re never too much; you’re the perfect match for his wild boundless energy. He even gets a little needy if you ever try to tone yourself down

“Hey” he says one day tugging at your sleeve. “Why are you so quiet today? Did I do something?” You laugh shaking your head “No I just didn’t want to talk too much and annoy you”

Bachira’s jaw drops dramatically “Annoy me? You? Never!” He wraps an arm around your shoulders pulling you into a side hug “You could talk all day and I’d still wanna hear more. So go on tell me everything”

Isagi Yoichi

At first he’s a little overwhelmed by how much you talk. You’re full of energy and always have something to say while he tends to lean on the quieter more thoughtful side. But it doesn’t take long for him to realize he enjoys the way you bring so much life into his day

He listens to you intently even when you’re going off on tangents about your favorite show or a random funny thing that happened during the day. He nods along offering small comments or questions that show he’s genuinely engaged. When you pause mid-conversation worrying that you might be talking too much Isagi is quick to reassure you

“Wait why’d you stop?” he asks tilting his head slightly his soft blue eyes full of curiosity “I don’t know… I just thought I might be boring you” you admit quietly. Isagi’s expression shifts to one of determination the same look he has on the field “You could never bore me. I like hearing you talk. It’s… comforting”

Your love for physical touch takes a bit of getting used to for Isagi. At first he stiffens slightly when you casually grab his hand or lean into his side. It’s not that he doesn’t like it he’s just not used to someone being so openly affectionate. But over time he starts to crave it. He finds himself reaching for your hand first or sitting closer to you just so your shoulders brush

One evening you’re sitting next to him on the couch and absentmindedly rest your head on his shoulder. After a few moments you pull away suddenly feeling like you might be crowding him. Isagi notices immediately

“What’s wrong?” he asks his voice laced with concern “Nothing I just didn’t want to bother you” you say looking away. He frowns slightly before gently grabbing your wrist pulling you back to him “You’re not bothering me. I like it when you’re close. Stay?”

Nagi Seishiro

Nagi is a great listener even if he doesn’t seem like it. He’ll lie back phone in hand while you go on about your day occasionally mumbling a soft “hmm” or “yeah” to let you know he’s paying attention. When you suddenly pause mid-ramble and mumble “Sorry I’m probably boring you” Nagi’s lazy eyes lift from his phone to meet yours “Not really” he says plainly his voice soft but firm. “Keep talking. It’s kinda nice”

Physical touch is another adjustment for him. You’re always leaning into him holding his hand or draping yourself over his shoulder and while he’s not the most physically expressive person he doesn’t mind it. In fact he starts to crave the warmth of your presence though he’d never outright say it

Sometimes though you pull away suddenly like when you’ve been curled up against his side during a lazy day of gaming. You’ll sit up or move to the other side of the couch a little self-conscious. Nagi notices right away and glances at you his expression unreadable

“Why’d you move” he asks his tone nonchalant though there’s a hint of curiosity in his voice “I just… I don’t want to be a bother” you admit avoiding his gaze. Nagi sighs softly setting down his controller “You’re not a bother” he says simply pulling you back to him with surprising gentleness. “You’re comfy. Don’t overthink it”

Quality time with Nagi is less about doing something grand and more about enjoying the quiet moments together. He’s perfectly content lying on the couch with you watching random videos or playing games while you talk about whatever’s on your mind. Sometimes he’ll pause his game just to listen to you more closely a small barely noticeable smile tugging at his lips

If you ever try to tone yourself down or give him space because you think you’re overwhelming him Nagi is quick to call you out in his own way “Why’re you being so quiet today” he asks one afternoon peeking at you from the corner of his eye

“I didn’t want to annoy you” you reply fiddling with your hands. Nagi sighs again this time more dramatically “You’re not annoying. You’re kinda the opposite actually. It’d be a pain if you stopped being yourself”

Sae Itoshi

He listens to you more than you realize. When you’re excitedly talking about your day or sharing a random story he doesn’t interrupt. He might offer a quiet “Hmm” or “Is that so” to show he’s listening but his responses are subtle. Sometimes you notice his lack of reaction and start to feel self-conscious

“Sorry I must be annoying” you mumble mid-sentence suddenly pulling back. Sae’s gaze sharpens slightly as he looks at you “You’re not annoying. If you were I’d tell you” His blunt honesty catches you off guard but it’s also strangely comforting

Physical touch is something Sae doesn’t quite know how to deal with at first. You’re always finding ways to be close to him draping yourself over his shoulder or reaching for his hand. He doesn’t pull away but he doesn’t reciprocate much either not because he doesn’t like it but because he’s not sure how to show it

But then there are moments when you pull away thinking you’re being too much. Like when you’ve been leaning on him during a quiet evening and suddenly sit up creating distance. Sae notices immediately

“What are you doing” he asks his tone calm but with a hint of curiosity “I just didn’t want to bother you” you say avoiding his gaze. Sae exhales softly shaking his head “If you were bothering me I’d say something. You don’t have to stop” His words are matter-of-fact but they hold an underlying sincerity that makes your chest feel lighter

Spending quality time with Sae looks a bit different. He’s not the type to plan elaborate dates or go out of his way to entertain you but he values the quiet moments you spend together. Whether it’s sitting beside him while he watches a match or walking together in comfortable silence he appreciates your presence even if he doesn’t always say it.

When you’re unusually quiet Sae notices right away. “Why aren’t you talking” he asks one day his tone almost teasing. You hesitate before answering “I just didn’t want to annoy you.”

Sae sighs softly turning to meet your eyes “You don’t annoy me. If I didn’t like being around you I wouldn’t be here”

Kaiser Michael

He’s an active participant in your endless chatter. Whether you’re recounting a random memory or diving into an elaborate story he listens intently often throwing in witty remarks or teasing comments to keep the conversation lively

“You really don’t stop talking do you” he says one day smirking as he leans closer. Before you can apologize or feel embarrassed he adds “Good. It’d be boring otherwise”

Physical touch is something Kaiser welcomes wholeheartedly. In fact he often takes the lead when it comes to affection. He’s the type to casually drape his arm around your shoulders pull you into his lap or grab your hand just because he feels like it. He thrives on being close to you and makes sure you know it

But then there are moments when you pull away suddenly like when you’re leaning against him during a quiet moment and decide to sit up creating some space. Kaiser notices instantly and his confident demeanor shifts ever so slightly

“Where are you going” he asks his tone playful but his eyes hold a flicker of genuine curiosity “I didn’t want to bother you” you mumble avoiding his gaze

Kaiser scoffs lightly shaking his head. “You? Bothering me? Don’t be ridiculous.” He reaches for your hand pulling you back to him “I like having you close. Stop overthinking”

Spending quality time with Kaiser is anything but dull. He enjoys taking you out to exciting places fancy restaurants spontaneous trips or even just a scenic walk because he loves seeing your eyes light up. At the same time he’s perfectly happy lounging with you watching a movie or simply lying around while you talk his head resting on your lap as you absentmindedly play with his hair

When you’re unusually quiet he notices right away “Alright what’s going on” he asks his tone somewhere between teasing and concerned “Nothing” you reply quickly “I just didn’t want to overwhelm you”

Kaiser raises an eyebrow leaning closer. “Overwhelm me? Please. I can handle you and more” He grins leaning in to plant a quick kiss on your forehead “I like you just the way you are so don’t hold back”

Enjoy!

[paxaz535]

Green and Gold

love interest: pazzi

year one

CHAPTER ONE.

The streets of London smelled different — like rain and engine smoke and something old. Azzi stuck close to her mom as they wove through the station, dragging a trunk twice her size behind her. Her owl, Hopper, hooted irritably in his cage every time she made a sharp turn.

Azzi could barely breathe.

She still wasn’t totally convinced this wasn’t a prank. That the owl had delivered the wrong letter. That she’d get to Hogwarts and someone would pull her aside and go, “Oh, sorry — we meant the girl next door.”

But then she thought about the day in gym class when she’d jumped for a rebound, missed, and accidentally floated for a full second before crashing back down. The other girls thought it was a trick.

Azzi knew better.

———

They’d spent the whole day before at Diagon Alley, which was straight-up the coolest, weirdest place Azzi had ever seen.

She got her wand from Ollivander’s — maple, 11¾ inches, phoenix feather core — after three failed attempts. The first wand shot sparks that set a curtain on fire. The second made her hair stand up like she’d rubbed a balloon across her head. But the third?

It hummed in her palm. Warm and wild. Like it knew her.

She tried on robes that made her look like she belonged in a movie, bought a stack of schoolbooks with titles like Defensive Magical Theory and Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, and convinced her mom to let her get the most stubborn owl in the entire shop. Hopper bit the salesclerk and hooted like he was proud of it.

Azzi loved him immediately.

Still, the coolest part? Quality Quidditch Supplies.

She spent twenty minutes with her face pressed to the glass, gawking at the broomsticks, enchanted goggles, and moving posters of legendary players. There was something about the sport — the speed, the contact, the vibe — that called to her. She didn’t know the rules yet, but she knew one thing for sure:

She was going to play.

———

Now, in King’s Cross, all that magic buzzed just beneath her skin. Azzi gripped her ticket tight:

Platform 9¾.

This had to be a joke, right? There wasn’t even a nine-and-three-quarters anywhere. Just a regular brick wall between platforms nine and ten.

She looked up at her mom. “You sure this is legal?”

Her mom laughed, eyes warm. “Just run, baby. Like you’re going for a layup.”

Azzi took a deep breath.

And sprinted.

She expected impact. Instead, the world folded around her — soft and warm and full of steam — and then boom: there it was. The scarlet train. Students everywhere, owls hooting, trunks banging, voices loud and excited. Hogwarts Express.

Azzi stood there for a second, winded.

“I’m actually doing this,” she whispered to herself.

She didn’t let herself freeze too long. She adjusted her grip on Hopper’s cage, hoisted her trunk onto the nearest trolley, and started toward the train.

———

The compartments filled fast. Every time she slid open a door, it was packed — students shouting, sharing candy, already claiming seats. Azzi scanned faces, trying to find someone who looked friendly. Or at least open.

No luck.

She was starting to sweat. Not because she was nervous — okay, fine, maybe a little nervous — but because this damn trunk weighed a thousand pounds and her owl was being dramatic.

She pushed open one more door near the back.

There was a girl already there. Blonde. Pale. Legs stretched across the seat like she owned it. She wore all black — fitted jacket, shiny boots — and read a book like she was too cool for everyone around her.

Azzi hesitated. “Is anyone sitting here?”

The girl didn’t even look up. “They’re about to be.”

Azzi blinked. “Sorry?”

“You just walked in.”

Okay, what?

Azzi’s eyebrows shot up. The girl was giving attitude and hadn’t even made eye contact.

“You always this rude,” Azzi muttered, “or is it just early?”

That made the girl lift her gaze — finally. Her eyes were a sharp, clear blue. Not cold exactly. Just unreadable. She closed the book with one finger holding her place.

“Paige Bueckers,” she said like a dare.

“Azzi.”

“Just Azzi?”

Azzi shrugged and shoved her trunk overhead. “What, you need my résumé too?”

Paige smirked. It was slight, but Azzi caught it. Like she was amused. Like she’d already sized her up and filed her under loud Gryffindor type. Not that she was wrong.

“So what are you, then?” Paige asked. “Gryffindor, right?”

“We haven’t even been Sorted yet.”

Paige leaned back, folding her arms. “I don’t need a hat to tell me what’s obvious.”

Azzi narrowed her eyes. “Lemme guess — you’re Slytherin.”

“Obviously.”

Azzi snorted. “Figures.”

———

They didn’t talk much after that.

Paige went back to her book. Azzi stared out the window, watching the city blur into green hills and trees, her heart still hammering in her chest. She didn’t know why that girl irritated her so much. Maybe it was the calmness. The way Paige didn’t seem phased by any of this.

Like magic was just another thing she’d already conquered.

Azzi didn’t like being underestimated. She’d grown up proving herself — on the court, in classrooms, everywhere. And Paige Bueckers? She looked like someone who never had to prove anything to anyone.

Azzi already knew she’d hate her.

Which was wild, considering she also couldn’t stop thinking about her.

———

Azzi tried not to look at Paige.

Tried.

But Paige was annoying in that silent, unreadable kind of way — the kind that made you want to poke her just to get a reaction. She didn’t fidget. She didn’t check the window. She barely blinked. She just sat there, calm and still, flipping pages like the train wasn’t shaking beneath them and they weren’t about to start their first year at Hogwarts-freaking-School-of-Witchcraft-and-Wizardry.

Azzi, on the other hand, couldn’t sit still.

Her knee bounced. Her fingers drummed against the window ledge. Her owl kept shifting in his cage like he was anxious too.

“You’re giving me a headache,” Paige said flatly, not even looking up from her book.

Azzi rolled her eyes. “You’ve barely looked away from your book this whole time. Pretty sure you gave yourself the headache.”

Paige turned a page with surgical precision. “Some of us came here to learn. Not bounce off the walls like a Golden Snitch on sugar.”

Azzi barked a laugh. “You think you’re better than everyone, don’t you?”

“No,” Paige said calmly. “Just you.”

That made Azzi sit up straighter, mouth parting like she couldn’t believe the audacity. “You don’t even know me.”

“I know enough.”

Azzi narrowed her eyes. “Like what? That I’m not afraid to call you out when you’re acting like you invented magic?”

Paige finally looked at her again — really looked. Her expression didn’t change much, but her eyes glinted with something… sharp. Calculating. Interested, maybe, but in the way a cat watches a mouse.

Azzi hated it.

And hated that it made her skin warm.

“Relax,” Paige said, leaning back and crossing her arms. “You’ll survive one train ride. I won’t bite.”

Azzi scoffed. “Damn shame.”

That almost got a smirk out of Paige. Almost.

———

They sat in stubborn silence for a while.

Azzi pulled out a Chocolate Frog and unwrapped it slowly, more for something to do than anything else. The frog immediately jumped out of her hand and landed in Paige’s lap.

Azzi stifled a laugh as Paige startled, brushing the frog off her robes like it was contagious.

“Seriously?” Paige muttered, wiping her sleeve.

“Oops,” Azzi said, absolutely not sorry. “Guess it liked you.”

“Doubt it. Probably just wanted to escape you.”

Azzi shrugged, biting into the edge of the wrapper like she hadn’t heard. “Can’t blame it for having taste.”

She glanced at the card that came with it — some old wizard with a crooked hat and a long, disapproving beard. Azzi flipped it over and made a face. “Ugh. Gamp. Lame.”

“Who’d you want?” Paige asked.

Azzi blinked. “Why do you care?”

“I don’t.” Paige went back to her book. “Just trying to predict how basic your taste is.”

Azzi kicked Paige’s foot lightly under the table.

Paige didn’t flinch.

“Do that again,” she warned.

Azzi smirked. “Or what? You’ll hex me?”

“No. I’ll write your name on my list.”

“What list?”

Paige didn’t answer. Just turned the page.

Azzi stared at her for a second too long. Not because she was intimidated — definitely not because of that — but because there was something about her that didn’t match up. The fancy posture, the cold tone, the whole I’m better than you attitude… and yet Paige hadn’t kicked her out. Hadn’t asked her to leave. Hadn’t moved an inch, even when Azzi was loud, annoying, and definitely getting under her skin.

She could’ve chosen any empty compartment. But she stayed.

And Azzi hated that that made her curious.

———

The train rattled, the sky outside darkening into bruised blue as twilight stretched across the hills. Azzi was tired of pretending Paige wasn’t bothering her. Even more tired of pretending she didn’t notice how Paige’s eyes flicked up to her every now and then — like she was just waiting for Azzi to do something reckless again.

So she did.

Azzi reached into her pocket, pulling out the small, secondhand wand she’d picked up at Ollivanders. It was warm in her palm, itching to be used. She hadn’t gotten the chance to actually try anything yet — not real spells, anyway — and frankly, her nerves were beginning to buzz.

“You ever done magic before?” Azzi asked, a little too casually.

Paige didn’t look up. “Not like this.”

Azzi raised a brow. “Like what?”

“Unsupervised. Surrounded by idiots.”

Azzi grinned. “Good thing you’ve got me, then.”

She flicked her wand up without warning, whispering the only spell she’d memorized from the train ride over:

“Lumos.”

To her delight, the tip of the wand glowed. Not much, but enough to cast a faint white light between them, soft and pulsing like a tiny heartbeat.

Azzi beamed. “Yo, look! I did it!”

Paige looked up — just as the light suddenly burst into a short, blinding flash.

Both girls flinched. Hopper the owl screeched in protest from his cage.

The light sputtered once… then popped like a soap bubble, leaving behind a faint smell of burnt dust and something worse — like scorched hair.

Azzi blinked hard. “Okay… that was not what it was supposed to do.”

“No kidding,” Paige said, shielding her eyes and blinking like she’d stared at the sun too long. “What’d you do, punch the spell in the face?”

Azzi snorted. “You’re welcome for the entertainment.”

“That wasn’t magic,” Paige muttered, rubbing the side of her face. “That was a hazard.”

Azzi tilted her head. “Wow. You’re fun.”

“Not to people who almost blind me on moving trains.”

Azzi rolled her eyes, but before she could bite back, the intercom above them crackled.

“We’ll be arriving at Hogwarts in ten minutes. Please leave your belongings on the train — first-years will be escorted by staff.”

The excitement hit Azzi all at once. Her knees bounced again, but this time from actual energy. The castle. It was really happening. She looked out the window and caught the distant glint of lights reflecting off a lake. Her chest swelled.

Then Paige stood.

She stretched her arms overhead, her robe shifting to reveal a green and silver tie tucked into her coat pocket.

Azzi blinked. “You’ve already got Slytherin colors?”

“I come prepared.”

Azzi scoffed. “You come extra.”

Paige looked at her, calm and deadly as ever. “And you come loud.”

They stared at each other for a second, the air buzzing with leftover magic and irritation.

Azzi should’ve looked away.

But she didn’t.

———

Outside the train, the night air was cold and damp. A huge man with a lantern yelled something about first-years, and Azzi followed the crowd, heart thumping like a snare drum. Somewhere beside her, Paige moved without a word, silent and sharp.

Azzi glanced at her again as they rounded the hill.

And then she saw it — the boats.

Floating.

Waiting.

And behind them?

The castle.

Lit up like a dream.

Azzi forgot Paige existed for a second. She forgot her own name. The sight of Hogwarts, glowing against the night sky, made her breath catch in her throat.

This is real, she thought. I’m really here.

Her fingers curled tightly around the wand in her pocket. No more little flashes. No more guesswork. The next time she used it, she’d make it count.

Even if she had to outshine every smug Slytherin in the building.

Especially one.

———

The Great Hall was massive.

Like, Azzi-had-to-crane-her-neck-to-see-the-ceiling massive. Floating candles hovered in the air like stars, flickering just above their heads. The ceiling didn’t even look like a ceiling — it looked like the night sky had snuck inside and decided to stay.

Azzi’s jaw dropped.

She caught herself and quickly straightened up, hoping no one saw.

Except someone did.

Paige.

She was a few students ahead in the line, standing like she’d seen all this a thousand times already. Her arms were crossed. Her face was blank. Unbothered. Of course.

Azzi narrowed her eyes and muttered, “Try not to trip on your ego.”

Paige didn’t turn, but her ears definitely turned pink.

That was a win.

⸻

Professor McGonagall stood by a stool at the front of the hall. On the stool sat the ugliest, oldest-looking hat Azzi had ever seen. It looked like it hadn’t been washed since… ever. And then it moved.

The hat straight-up came alive, split open with a mouth, and started to sing a whole weird, rhyming song about the four houses. Azzi caught the part about Gryffindors being brave and bold and loud — that sounded like her. The rest of the song was a blur.

When the hat finally stopped singing, the Sorting began.

One by one, names were called.

Kids shuffled up to the stool, the hat got dropped on their heads, and the room waited. Sometimes the hat shouted out a house right away. Other times, it paused — like it was having a whole argument with itself.

Azzi tried to act chill. She wasn’t chill.

She wiped her palms on her robes.

“Bueckers, Paige.”

Azzi stiffened.

Paige walked up like it was no big deal. Calm. Slow. Like she was born for this. The hat barely touched her head before it yelled:

“Slytherin!”

Of course it did.

The table on the far left exploded into cheers. Paige slipped off the stool, walked toward them, and didn’t even glance back.

Azzi told herself she didn’t care.

But her stomach twisted anyway.

Suddenly, a cheerful voice piped up beside her.

“You look like a great person to be around!”

Azzi blinked and turned her head. A brunette girl, about her height, stood there with a bright, easy smile. Her cheeks were round, her eyes full of warmth. She looked like someone who always had something nice to say.

Azzi gave a small, cautious smile back.

“How come?”

The girl shrugged, still beaming.

“You give off an aura… A good one, though!”

Azzi wasn’t exactly sure what that meant, but it didn’t sound bad.

“Thanks,” she said.

“What’s your name? I’m Azzi.”

“I’m Caroline. It’s nice to meet you, Az!”

Azzi blinked at the nickname, caught off guard. No one had ever called her that before.

Caroline’s face went red immediately.

“Wait—can I call you Az? Is that okay?”

Azzi paused for a second, then nodded.

“Sure.”

It sounded… kind of nice.

Caroline lit up again.

“Yay! You can call me Carol. I hope we both get into Gryffindor!”

Azzi smiled for real that time — not forced or polite, but one that reached her eyes.

Something told her she and Carol were going to be really good friends.

———

Name after name passed. She was starting to feel like maybe they’d forgotten her — maybe they were going to pull her aside and tell her, “Sorry, huge mistake, you don’t belong here after all.”

Then:

“Fudd, Azzi.”

Her heart stopped.

She walked to the front, legs stiff, hands cold. Her fingers brushed the edge of the stool, and she sat quickly, afraid her knees would give out.

The hat dropped over her head, blocking her view of everything.

Then she heard it — not out loud, not exactly. But inside her head, deep and ancient and amused.

“Well now… brave, yes… fiery little mind… oh, you’ve got grit. You’d do well in Gryffindor.”

Azzi held her breath.

“But wait… clever, too. You like to win. You want to be the best.”

Was that bad?

“Not bad at all,” the hat said. “The question is… do you want to prove something, or protect something?”

Azzi didn’t know how to answer.

But something in her whispered: I want to fight for something. I want to matter.

The hat paused.

“Gryffindor it is!”

The hat was lifted from her head. Applause burst from the Gryffindor table. Azzi stumbled off the stool, dazed, but trying to walk like she meant it.

She sat down at her new table, heart pounding. She could hear Carol cheering from the table, she had went before her.

Across the room, Paige was watching her. Just briefly.

Azzi swallowed and looked away.

Let the games begin.

[vettelsvee]

NOT LETTING YOU GO | Sebastian Vettel

⋆ PAIRING: Primary School Teacher!Sebastian Vettel x Primary School Teacher Girlfriend!Reader ↳ Teacher AU ⋆ Part of CLASSROOM GOSSIPS ⋆ SUMMARY: You had a parent-teacher meeting and you end up overthinking if you're good enough to be a teacher. Lucky you, Seb is there to help you calming down ⋆ WORD COUNT: 2870 ⋆ WARNING: Angst, curse words, descriptions of an anxiety attack, mentions of sex ⋆ TAGLIST: @koalapastries @blushmimi @herdetectivetheorist ⋆ VEE'S NOTES: First ever Teacher!Seb fic being an actual teacher + this is coming from something I've experienced today and I had to write it to, somehow, calm myself down ☺️ Hope you like it and, if so, remember you can comment, reblog and tell me your thoughts! Also... just 26 to go to 2k! ↳ TALK TO ME / REQUESTS! | FORMULA 1 MASTERLIST

You were grateful, finally, for the silence, broken only by the occasional distant footsteps and the soft sounds of other teachers moving through the halls, likely in the same position as you.

You stood, waiting for the arrival of one of your favorite students’ mothers, Eloise’s. You picked up the eight-year-old's folder and flipped through the most recent notes you’d compiled about her over the past week. Not that you needed them: if there was one thing that defined you as a teacher, it was how deeply you knew your students, as if they were truly your own children.

At least, that’s what Seb always said whenever he had the chance, especially when he saw how anxious you got before a parent-teacher meeting, like it was happening now.

You weren’t as nervous as you had been in your first meetings, but the knot in your stomach was still there. Tight, alert, unrelenting.

You jumped slightly when you heard a knock at the door. Instinctively, you sat down at your desk, tidying things up (if that was even possible), inhaling deeply as you tried to brace yourself for whatever was about to unfold.

“Come in!”

The door opened. Eloise’s mother entered. Tall, impeccably dressed, with a sharp gaze that cut straight through the air. Her expression was cold, her mouth barely hinting at a smile. She didn’t return your greeting, simply walked confidently to the chair across from you, sat down, and scanned you from head to toe. Judging… not just because you were her daughter’s teacher, but maybe also because you looked far too young for what she considered a “real” educator.

“Miss,” she said curtly.

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Dunham. Thank you for coming,” you replied, doing your best to keep your nerves in check.

You extended your hand, only for her to blatantly ignore it, turning her face away.

You sighed quietly, trying to give her the benefit of the doubt. Maybe she’d had a bad day. Instead, you gestured toward the bottles of water to her right and the progress report you’d put together for Eloise, lying beside her.

A sticky note on the front read: Kind. Artistic. Brave. Words that described what made Eloise truly special. Qualities you hoped her mother would recognize long before even looking at her grades (which, by the way, were perfect).

Mrs. Dunham barely glanced at the report before tossing it back onto the desk with clear disdain. She crossed her arms and, at last, looked you directly in the eyes.

“I don’t want the sugar-coated version. I want the truth. What exactly is happening in your classroom that’s making my daughter cry herself to sleep every night? Why is she begging me not to bring her to school?”

You couldn’t see your own face, but you felt it drain of all color.

Words failed you. You stammered, caught off guard by the accusation.

“I… I’m so sorry to hear that Eloise is upset,” you said, choosing your words carefully, still trying to process what she was saying. “Eloise is an exceptional student. She’s a—”

“Invisible. That’s what she is to you.”

You froze.

“That’s what she told me, you know?” the mother continued, voice sharp. “She says she raises her hand and you ignore her. She finishes her work and gets no praise, nothing like what you give the other children. She spends all day watching louder classmates get your attention for misbehaving, while she, who works hard and follows every rule, never feels good enough for you. Is that it?”

“With all due respect, I—”

“No,” she cut in. “I trusted this school to see the potential my daughter has. And I believe it does. But you? You’re just some fresh graduate playing pretend at being a teacher. I’ve heard that Mr. Vettel, your partner if I believe correctly, is one of the best additions this school has ever made. Nothing like you.”

Those words hit you like a slap. Of course you knew Seb, your boyfriend, was an incredible teacher. You were endlessly proud of him. But hearing him praised like that, while your own efforts went unseen, unnoticed… it broke something inside you.

You tried to find something to say… anything honest, kind, something that captured how much you cared about Eloise, how much thought you put into her growth, but your throat was tight, your heartbeat pounding, and whatever calm you’d managed to hold onto had completely vanished.

“I truly do everything I can—”

“If you’re not getting results, maybe this just isn’t the right job for you.”

That was the final blow. Your anxiety, until now held barely in check, surged.

“Do you realize the impact you have on a child that age?” she continued. “Say one wrong thing, ignore her even once… it leaves a mark. I expected professionalism. You’re the teacher, not just another kid on the playground.”

You sat perfectly still. Lips pressed together, holding back the flood rising in your chest.

“Thank you for your honesty,” you said softly. “I’ll reflect on what you’ve shared.”

She didn’t say a word in response. No thank you. No goodbye. Just turned on her heel and left, the click of her heels fading down the hall until the classroom door slammed shut behind her with a jolt that made you flinch again.

And then, silence. Heavier than before.

You didn’t move.

Your thoughts spiraled. You replayed her words over and over, questioning everything. Wondering if maybe… she was right. Maybe teaching wasn’t for you. Maybe all your effort, all your heart… it wasn’t enough.

Tears welled up in your eyes. Your breathing turned shallow. It felt like you were moments from collapsing face-down on the desk, overwhelmed, broken.

“Hey, love. Are you in here?”

You hadn’t even heard the door open again, this time gently.

You straightened up in a rush, scrambling to pull yourself together. You turned your head slowly toward the door.

Sebastian was there. Smiling.

But the smile vanished the instant he saw your face.

"Love?"

You tried to answer, but your voice refused to come out. Instead, only a gasp escaped. Your shoulders tightened, and once again, the air seemed to vanish from your lungs. You were left relying on shallow, rapid breaths just to stay upright. Your hands clutched the edge of the desk, as if holding on could somehow make it all go away.

Seb rushed to your side, crouching down so he could meet your eyes. He wrapped one arm carefully around you, gently brushing your hair out of your face with the other.

The words you wanted to say never came. Tears took their place. You were hyperventilating even more now. Your chest rose and fell far too fast, and it wasn’t just your hands that were trembling —it was your whole body.

“It’s okay, love. Deep breaths. Hold my hand or do whatever you need, but just focus on breathing,” Seb said in that calming voice of his, the one that never wavered. “In through your nose... Come on, sweetheart. You're safe, you’re with me. I’m right here, and you’re okay. I’m not going anywhere… so right now, just breathe with me…”

You met his eyes, those ocean-blue eyes that always grounded you. They were steady, kind, reassuring. Everything you needed, even when your mind tried to convince you otherwise.

“There you go, love. One more breath…”

Your body finally began to unwind. Your breathing slowed, deepened.

You quickly wiped your cheeks and sat up a little straighter, embarrassment washing over you.

“I’m sorry. It’s just… God, I hate that I let that woman’s words get in my head like this…”

“It’s okay that they did. Really,” Seb said gently. “It doesn’t make you weak—it just means you care about your students.”

He pulled you into a hug, the kind of hug you could live in if you had the choice. You buried your face in his chest, soaking in the safety that this German man, who you’d been with for nearly four years, always seemed to bring.

“You’re one of the best teachers I’ve ever known,” Sebastian said, still holding you tightly. “I see the way the kids swarm you during recess, and how you never hesitate to kneel down to their level and talk about whatever wild thing they’re excited about just to keep them smiling. No matter what’s swirling in that head of yours,” he added, tapping it lightly before pressing a soft kiss there, “how you treat your students won’t suddenly vanish just because one parent had a bad day and took it out on you.”

“What if she’s right, though?” you whispered.

Seb sighed, letting out a small laugh.

“Love, Eloise is acting out because her baby brother was born, what, six months ago? Don’t you remember how you visited her mom, the same woman who just tore into you, at the hospital just because Eloise asked you to?” he reminded you, and you silently cursed yourself for forgetting. “It’s classic dethroned child syndrome. You have nothing to worry about.”

You sniffled, and despite yourself, a tiny smile tugged at your lips.

“Still… she called me unprofessional. Said you were a much better teacher and that I was nothing like you…”

“Oh, please, babe. I’m a mess, and you stay up past midnight color-coding lesson plans with glitter pens.”

“Seb, that’s not that unusual…”

“You pack extra snacks every single day” he emphasized each word “just in case one of the kids forgets their lunch. If that’s unprofessional, then I don’t ever want either of us to be professional.”

This time, your laugh burst out freely, echoing around the classroom.

Finally, Seb knew you were okay again, that he’d done what he came to do: stop one opinion from someone who didn’t understand your work, your classroom, or your devotion from tearing you down.

Seb stood up, gently taking your wrist and leading you toward your favorite corner of the classroom: the reading nook. It was filled with shelves of books you’d bought with your own money, some even from your parents’ house, and a few beanbags scattered around.

He sat down on one of them, tugging you down onto his lap.

“I mean it, love. You’re magical,” he said softly. He’d told you things like this before, but somehow they always made your cheeks go warm. “You’re the kind of teacher who makes kids believe in themselves. Sure, you teach German and math and all those boring things—but you also teach kindness, just by being you.”

“We should all be like that, Seb. You are too… you know that, right?” you reminded him. His students adored him, and now that they were about to head off to secondary school, they made that clear every chance they got.

“Well, that mother doesn’t know the full picture, but I do. And I’m telling you the truth: you’re changing lives. I hope you know that.”

You leaned in, pressing a brief but intense kiss to his lips. It caught him off guard, but he responded immediately, pulling you in closer by the waist.

Afterward, you let your eyes wander around the room. It was filled with crafts and chalk-drawn smiles on the walls. And there, despite the spelling mistakes, a massive chalkboard message surrounded by wobbly hearts read: “You’re the best teacher in the world, Miss!”

“Thanks for reminding me who I am,” you whispered just loud enough for him to hear.

“I always will, sweetheart.”

You nestled against his shoulder again, as his lips pressed into your hair and his fingers traced gentle, invisible patterns all over your body.

"Hey..."

"Hmmm?"

Seb propped himself up slightly, and you did the same. Now, you were sitting with your legs loosely wrapped around his waist, facing him directly.

"Do you know how I could make you happy right now?"

"Eating me out while fingering me?"

Seb shook his head, chuckling softly.

"God, babe, stop thinking with your hormones!" he said dramatically, placing a hand over his chest. "Today’s been long and rough, and sure, I’ll help you unwind when we get home. But right now, under Article 4 of the Master Recovery Act… I am legally required to take you somewhere sacred."

"Seb, I’m not in the mood for guessing games. I'm exhausted, I just want to go home and—"

"You don't want to go somewhere overflowing with carbs, cheese, and generous pours of wine?"

Your face lit up instantly. You jumped to your feet, bouncing with excitement like you always did when Seb had a surprise planned or a spontaneous date night.

He couldn’t help but grin at your reaction, standing up and quickly gathering your things. In no time, he was heading for the door, eager to leave.

"Mario’s? Seriously?" you asked, even though you already knew the answer, jogging to catch up and practically dragging him out of the classroom.

"Of course, love. Tonight, you deserve to be pampered. And trust me, the pizza buffet I have in mind, plus the leftovers we’ll take home for you to eat cold for breakfast is just the beginning."

On the walk from the school to your car and then during the drive to the restaurant, you talked about everything except what had happened earlier. Seb told you about a surprise he was planning for his students for the end of term, and you couldn’t resist offering suggestions, along with ideas for how to teach your own little ones their next German lessons, which were proving to be a real struggle.

You also daydreamed about your upcoming vacation plans beyond Heppenheim, and whether you’d finally saved enough to buy that mini van you both wanted for your grand European road trips.

A few minutes later, Seb was parking in front of the restaurant. He quickly got out, rushing to open your door and offer his hand. You didn’t need help getting out, but he knew how much those little gestures meant to you, especially after a day like today.

He took your hand, and as he opened the door and let you in first, the familiar aroma of tomato sauce, melted mozzarella, and fresh oregano washed over you like a warm hug. It felt, as always, like home.

Behind the counter, Johanna, the waitress who knew you both so well, lit up when she saw you.

"Well, if it isn’t my favorite couple! Table 5, right?"

You and Seb exchanged bashful smiles and gave her a quiet "yes" as she led you, like she always did, to your usual spot.

As always, Seb took the seat with his back to the window, leaving you facing him, right beside the old jukebox that hadn’t worked in years. You noticed a small new doodle just beside where your initials and Seb’s were scratched into the wood.

You couldn’t help but smile as you traced the worn letters with your fingertips, thinking back on every date Seb had brought you here and, if you were being honest, even imagining bringing your future kids here someday if things kept going the way they were.

"Do you remember when you asked me to be your girlfriend right here?" you asked softly, locking eyes with him.

"Of course. I was sweating so much I tore the paper menu they gave us."

"I think you already know this, but that just made me fall even harder for you. You were so adorable."

Your food arrived almost instantly. Johanna knew your order so well you didn’t even have to ask. Two pizzas, one Margherita, one Carbonara, arrived with two Coke bottles packed with ice. No surprises there.

You ate slowly, lingering in your conversation from the car, which eventually turned to the mess with Eloise’s mother at the tutoring session earlier. You finally let yourself vent, opening up about your fears, your doubt about being good enough, or whether you really had what it took for a job like yours.

Seb listened intently, and when he responded, he did it with the same honesty. No one else could understand what you were going through quite like him.

Because yes, Sebastian Vettel also had moments of doubt, struggling with imposter syndrome as a teacher. And yes, you were always there for him when it was his turn to fall apart.

"You’re allowed to have horrible days, love," he said gently. "But you need to get it through that stubborn little head of yours, and I say this as someone who knows you better than you think, none of what happened today changes how I see you. Not as my girlfriend, not as a teacher. And it definitely doesn’t change how the kids see you."

Your eyes welled up again. This time, though, the tears weren’t from exhaustion or frustration, but from gratitude. From happiness. From the overwhelming luck of having someone like Sebastian in your life.

"I’m so lucky to have you," you whispered. "I wish every girl could have their own Sebastian Vettel."

"Well, I’m the lucky one, trust me," he said, reaching for your hand across the table. "I’m very lucky you said yes at this very table even if I was sweating as fuck and got your hands all clammy."

[oneshotnewbie]

Hey, could you do an Amelia Shepherd x fem!reader where they are in the OR and one of the interns is just starring at Amelia the whole time and reader gets mad (reader is the head of cardiothoracic surgery and she and Amelia have been together for a long time now)

Authors note: I promised you, so here is a new story from me. I hope you like it & I'll try to post and write a little more from now on. I promise ♥

ᕚ---ᕘ

The fluorescent lights of the operating room cast harsh shadows on the concentrated faces of the medical team gathered around the operating table. The atmosphere was tense, the silence broken only by the quiet hum of medical equipment. Dr. Amelia Shepherd stood at the head of the table, her gaze focused on the tiny area of the brain she was trying to operate on with extreme precision. Next to her stood you, the head of cardiothoracic surgery, whose hands calmly and confidently guided the instruments to stabilize the patient's heart.

It was a highly complex operation in which every movement had to be precise to the millimeter in order to preserve the patient's life. The surgical light shone into the interior of the open chest, and despite the bright light and busy, intense activity of the situation, you noticed something unusual out of the corner of your eye.

One of the interns, a young doctor in training, who was attending the procedure didn't seem to have his attention focused on the operation, but instead stared steadily at Amelia. His looks weren't one of admiration for her surgical skills, but of something else - something you couldn't approve of.

A feeling of anger and annoyance rose within you as you noticed the inappropriate attention from him. Why couldn't he concentrate on his work and why did he have to stare at your partner like she was the only thing that mattered?

You felt your heart rate increase and you forced yourself to stay calm so as not to jeopardize the operation. But the sight of the intern looking at Amelia with obvious interest gnawed at her. Was it jealousy you felt? Or just annoyed at the lack of professionalism?

Determined to clarify the situation, you abruptly turned to the intern, your expression serious and stern. "Hey, eyes on the operation!" you snapped, your voice sharp and unmistakable. "Dr. Kwan, this is not an act, this is a vital operation. If you are unable to concentrate, please leave this operating room!"

The intern jumped as if snapped out of a daydream and quickly looked down, his cheeks reddening with embarrassment. "I'm sorry, Dr. l/n. I'll concentrate on the operation immediately," he murmured before hastily shifting his gaze from the neurosurgeon and focusing back on his tasks.

You took a deep breath, your anger slowly fading as you saw the intern focusing back on his work. But the feeling of unrest remained. As you continued to run the operation, you felt a pang of worry in your heart. Was there more to your emotional outburst - an unpleasant hint of jealousy that you couldn't ignore? Was your relationship really as strong as it seemed, or would the shadows of insecurity and jealousy tear you apart before you even had a chance to grow closer?

The situation in the operating room became increasingly complicated when Dr. Kwan continued to stare at Amelia with inappropriate looks minutes later instead of concentrating on his work. Despite your previous admonition, the young doctor seemed unable to take his eyes off the brunette, and this distraction was beginning to negatively impact the quality of the operation.

Suddenly, in the middle of an intense moment, the monitors around you started beeping wildly and a critical condition jeopardized the entire course of the operation when the intern made a mistake. The patient's vital signs spiraled out of control when an important instrument slipped from his hand, further aggravating the patient's already weakened condition.

"Damn, we're losing him! Y/n, talk to me, what happened?" Amelia shouted, desperately trying to control her position on the brain. The brunette felt the pressure in your body rising as the entire team around you reacted frantically, feeding you everything you needed to avert the impending loss of the patient. "Pericardium was injured. I'm trying to repair it."

You didn't have time to talk. You reacted quickly and precisely, your hands working to the rhythm of a well-oiled mechanism as any professional duty outweighed any personal sentiments. But despite your quick efforts, the patient's condition didn't seem to be improving. Time seemed to stand still as you found yourself in a desperate fight to save the life of the person lying on the operating table in front of you.

Minutes passed, but for you and Amelia it felt like an eternity. The exertion and stress began to take its toll, but you continued to fight, every move crucial before another unexpected complication arose, making the situation even more desperate. An artery that was directly underneath where the instrument slipped began to bleed uncontrollably, and the blood streamed into the surgical area, dangerously close to the patient's heart.

"Damned!" you scolded, pushing the intern, who was still standing at your side in shock, out of the way to give you more space. "Y/n, you can do it. Keep a calm head, you know how it works. You're the best in your field." Your partner spoke calmly and you took a deep breath before sharpening your focus, her voice and words always keeping you at bay.

You worked feverishly to control the bleeding while the neurosurgeon tried to continue the brain procedure. Time seemed to continue to stretch and distort, each second becoming an eternity as you were caught in a desperate dance between life and death.

Despite all the odds, you didn't give up. You continued to fight, your hands melding together in a choreographed dance of survival. And amidst the chaos and hustle and bustle, you finally managed to stop the bleeding and save the patient from imminent death.

But the anger towards the intern was bubbling inside you. When the immediate danger had passed and you could turn your attention back to the root cause of the operation, you turned your burning anger on the young doctor.

"What the hell are you thinking, acting like a schoolboy in love while we're here fighting for someone's life?" you shouted at Dr. Kwan, your voice filled with a mixture of anger and disappointment. "You have a responsibility to this patient and the entire medical team, and your unprofessional attitude of pandering on my wife not only endangered his life, but also the career of everyone in this room!"

The young doctor lowered his eyes in shame, his cheeks once again coloring with shame. "I'm sorry, Dr. l/n. I was careless and it won't happen again." he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Damn right it won't. For the time being, you won't be able to see the inside of an operating room anymore." You spoke, taking a deep breath, your anger slowly giving way to exhaustion as you felt the tension inside you slowly release. You turned back to the patient, your mind focused on the final task in front of you as you ordered the intern to leave the room.

In the hours that followed, Amelia and you worked tirelessly to continue to keep the patient stable and ensure he would survive the surgery. And as the first signs of success appeared and the monitors flashed gently in confirmation, you felt a moment of gratitude.

But amidst the triumph of saving someone's life also lay an uncomfortable realization - that the lines between professional duty and personal emotions could sometimes become blurred, and that life's challenges exist not only in the operating room but also in the relationships between people.

[thesevro]

[nanami kento] your stranger

VILLAIN NANAMI KENTO/MALE READER SMUT CW: Explicit scenes of sex, overstimulation

I'm imagining a villain Nanami here. I remember I started writing this in June, ngl I have not seen much of JJK since very early last year so Nanami is not like himself here MWAHAHa Backshots from an angry, tired, drunk salaryman below my bro

PREVIEW: “Unless you’d like me to feed you first,” he mutters, looking back at you as he slots the key into the lock.

You stare back at him, not quite appalled by the request, but by his gall. 

“Your boyfriend just bro” —he slurs through the word— “-ooke up with you, hm? I could take your mind off that. And feed you, if you like.” He licks his lips. “Sir.”

—

The train is, as per usual, seating several of the typical unfortunate salarymen held back until mind-bendingly late by their bosses. They’re all luckier than you. You’d been out dancing and grinding on stranger after stranger in every club in Tokyo, crying on your friends’ shoulders after reading the pathetic break-up text you got earlier that afternoon. Your head falls into the crook of your elbow. The pain is a sorry thing. Toji was good comfort for your body, that was all it ever was. But remembering him has you swaying on your feet as you grip the handhold above you.

At 00:30, with half-drunk tears pricking your eyes, one of these drunk men finally bumps into you. He’s handsome enough to make you less annoyed; just another stranger to move your body with. Politely. 

Your hands find his hips to right his balance. “Careful, sir.”

His balance remains unruly. Discordant enough with the rest of his body to have him falling back into you as the train speeds over a particularly bumpy track. You grunt, accommodating his weight with your hands even more firmly wrapped around his hips.

“Sir,” you say, “I’m going to have to move you, is that alright?”

He mumbles something and nothing. You frown, meeting his gaze to gauge his reaction further. Fuck it all if you’re embarrassed, having to manhandle a heavy, handsome blonde into a seat on the train. His eyes have that pit in your stomach dropping with greater weight. His gaze is sharp, perhaps not lucid but entirely alert. Whatever you’re doing, however you’re helping him, he’s the one letting you do it.

You give him a smile. He doesn’t match your ignominy, or your discretion. His feet stumble one over the other as you guide him into a chair with your body supporting him from his armpit, your arm around his wide shoulders. The man is big.

Against your better judgment, you decide to take the seat next to him.

“You, uh… think you’ll be able to get home alright?”

“Mmm.” Your ears savor that small sound. His voice is deep. Smooth as velvet. “Don’t… about me.”

His head thumps into the back of the seat. Huh, respect. From that vigilance in his eyes alone you know he’ll be fine on his own. Could probably rip someone to pieces in the dark with his bare hands, drunk or not. His fingers are thick, his hands popping with veins. 

His Adam’s apple bobs as his voice fills your ears. Ah. You’re watching him a little too closely. “H-help me home. Think your grip h-hurt my hips.”

You nearly jump away from him in sheer humiliation. “Oh, I’m so sorry. You were a little heavy. I had to—”

“Just help me home,” he repeats, slurring through his words. Every time he speaks, you have to lean in, face moving so close to his you can feel his breath with every word. Man must be a mumbler at work. His state of utter inebriation rips through every quality of communication he might already not possess. “Sure you’re strong enough for it.”

You follow him off the train, watching him from a distance until you reach the stairs. You shake off the embarrassment and hold an arm out to him. He lets you wrap your arm around his shoulders, holding him steady as his feet stumble down the stairs. You laugh a bit when you nearly trip with him. 

“What. Are you laughing. At?” he snaps.

“This whole setup is worse,” you say honestly. “It’s like you’ve given the both of us six feet each.” 

“I jus’” —he hiccups, and for the first time you find him cute instead of handsome— “Worked an eighteen-hour shift. Please help me out.”

“Yes, sir. I’ve got you, don’t worry.” 

“There’s my house,” he says as you tap his card then yours to exit the station. He points a shaky finger to a cozy apartment sitting next to a bakery, right outside the station. The store is still open.

You make an involuntary noise in your throat, your stomach responding to the sight of sticky pastries lined up in perfect rows. You drag him towards his apartment with quicker steps. Such delightful motivation. You’d move in with him if you could, just for this bakery.

“P-please slow down,” he asks, his first time bearing some sense of discretion towards you. 

“I’m sorry. Of course.” 

You heave him up further to support his weight with more of your body. He leans on you, unabashed as his unsteady steps take you towards his home. Under his suit, his apparent musculature bulges to fit right into your hands. 

His hands fumble for the keys once you reach the front steps. He reaches a hand out to the wall, yet you remain by his side, your hand gently clutching his waist, keeping him steady as he sways from side to side.

“This is the first time someone else has been around my house in quite some time,” he says, coherent in his melancholy. Ah, the mood swings of a drunk. 

“If you’re up to it, sir, we could share pastries at the bakery next door. It’s still open.” 

“No,” he replies, absently. “I want to fuck you.” 

Ah. Was he just reading your mind?

“Sir?”

“Unless you’d like me to feed you first,” he mutters, looking back at you as he slots the key into the lock.

You stare back at him, not quite appalled by the request, but by his gall. 

“Your boyfriend just bro” —he slurs through the word— “-ooke up with you, hm? I could take your mind off that. And feed you, if you like.” He licks his lips. “Sir.”

“You know what.” You shake off the embarrassment, again. Thrice, this man has had you embarrassed. “What size are you?”

“XL in Trojan.” 

Huh. That’s exactly what you have in your bag. 

“If you have a bed, I won’t even need any bread.”

“We’re fucking, then?”

He unlocks the door. 

“Definitely.”

—

“Relax.” His hand settles onto the middle of your back, gently guiding you onto your hands with your ass up in the air. His other hand rims your hole, casually skilled in its motions as he dips his hand palm-down and curls it to press into your prostate. You’re already loose for him, prepped by his strong fingers. Hole slick with lube. 

“You can think about him like this, yes?” he chuckles. “I’ll be thinking about you, though.”

“I’m letting you go bareback,” you stammer slightly as his fingers press into you in a wonderful arch, “Whose cock d-do you think I’ll be thinking about?”

“If it hurts, tell me. I’ll take it s-slow with you.” The skill this man has, even when drunk, makes you wonder how he might have you if he were clear-headed and sober. Your cock is already leaking onto his bed sheets.

The head of his cock taps into your hole. Inch by inch, he slips into you. The muscles in your ass stretch around him. His cock, slick with lube, comes halfway in. At the sheer stretch, your face twists. You turn away from him.

“Too much?” he asks. “Come on. Let me help you adjust so I can fuck you into my bed already.”

Fuck. Why’s he turning so mean? You’re clenching up a little over it. 

“No,” you order. “Keep going.”

You can feel him frown from behind you, but he continues. His hips draw closer to yours. His hands grip you hard. Your body nearly gives out when his cock, so much fucking thicker than any you’ve ever taken, finally brushes upward into your prostate. 

“Ngh,” you moan softly, mouth dropping open. 

“Mm, no need to be embarrassed. I’ll ha-ave you worse in a bit.”

“Stop talking like that,” you mutter, arching your back and jutting your pretty ass out. “Just give it to me.” 

You shift your weight to your knees, sliding his cock further between your cheeks until he’s inside you up to the base and you can feel the strong lines of his stomach on your ass. He grunts, throwing his head back as your hole swallows him up.

With your ass to his hips, he laughs, a drunken chuckle breaking the air. “Needy big boy.” He grinds his hips into the plush fat of your ass cheeks. The muscles in his stomach rub against you. “Your bo-oooyfriend too small for it?”

You fumble for a reply with him tucked deep inside you. You find nothing coherent. Honesty becomes your next best virtue: “Just fuck me!”

“Bratty.”

But he does fuck you. Your hole clenches around him as he pulls out, your body knowing better than you how badly you need him to fuck into you. 

“Spread your legs,” he mutters, grabbing the inside of your thigh, just above your knee, to wrap it around his waist. “I’ll fuck you good. You keep showin’ that you don’t want me to nice about this.”

You lose all sense of balance. His hips drive into you harder, but he keeps your leg in the air, wrapped firmly around his waist. At his mercy, you tip forward, ass far up enough it allows him room to thrust almost vertically into your hole.

“Keep. Your back. Arched,” he demands, his free hand settling on the small of your back. Again, he molds your body to follow his command. That’s all it takes for your mouth to open. You moan, shameless in the pleasure this drunk, nameless man is giving you. In his strong sense of control. In knowing that you can simply lie there and take it—let yourself be a sweet, tight hole for such a big man. 

“Yeah,” he says, voice ripe with pure satisfaction. “Good boy.”

“Fuck!” you cry when the blonde angles his hips to pile-drive right into the sensitive muscle of your prostate. Each press into that sensitive muscle sends strong jolts of pleasure straight from his cock, into your ass and up every one of your nerves. “Fuck, please!”

“You’re tight,” he mutters, and you try to wrap your head around the drunken garble of his words but he’s really only talking to himself,  “And I’m not sober. Don’t think I’ll last long…”

His thrusts slow, gradually, to a sensual grind. Like the thrusts of a long-time lover. You give a moan at the slow, intentional drag along your prostate, of his bare cock, veins and hardness and all, sliding rawly inside you.

He continues this pace. You spare a glance at the beautiful drunk man taking you from behind. He shivers with every push of his hips, closed eyes fluttering whenever your hole gives a good clench. His mouth has fallen open. You smell the booze on his breath. The cologne sprayed into his forearms. 

What a delicious man.

“Can’t take it, huh?” you tease, nearly drunk yourself, on his cock. “I’m too tight for you?”

He looks up at you from under blonde lashes, eyes hazy from liquor. “Do you want me to fuck a baby into you?”

You blink at the question. “Huh?”

“I—” he hiccups. “I can’t keep up that pace for long. It’ll make both of us cum quick.”

You have never had this kind of conversation during sex. Not with Suguru. Not even with men like Toji. “You mean, like earlier?”

He gives a long, pleasured sigh as he continues his measured thrusts, his head falling back once more. So easily distracted just because you’re better than anything he’s ever had. You know that for a fact. “Mmmhmmm… just like earlier.” One of his hands falls from your hip. His face relaxes into the picture of bliss.

Your own eyes flutter as his cockhead catches your prostate. You turn away from him, giving a soft gasp with your face in the pillow. His cock is so good. 

You feel the bed shift, creaking. His hands slide up your body, up past your peaked nipples and bulging pecs until he can slot a hand under your jaw to tilt your head up so that your moans erupt into open air. 

“I don’t want you to keep quiet for me,” he murmurs, his chest to your back, his mouth on your ear. You tense, and without even a single one of his fingers on you your cock gives a harsh, aching throb into the sheets.

“I—” your words break off with a loud moan as his hand wraps around your throat in full. You can feel his drunken smile on your ear. “I want that baby.”

“Don’ worry,” he chuckles. “I’ll give it to you.” 

You know he means it. And you brace yourself, hands back on the bed as his body straightens. You watch him, peering behind you from under the sweat on your brow. He pours lube into his hand. Sets the bottle on the nightstand. He smiles as he meets your eyes. 

“Back arched, pretty boy.” 

You thrust your ass into the air, back straight as a rod for him. Your eyes find the pillow once more. Minimalist embroidery lines the silk. 

His thrusts resume, and the pillow moves in your vision. You chew on your bottom lip as his thrusts overwhelm every other sensation, as his scent and the growing musk of sex shoots up your nostrils. His wet hand slips between your body and the sheets. 

His hand finds your cock. You shiver at the feel. He strokes you in slow, squeezing strokes, all in time with every press of his hips into yours.

You shudder against him, pressed tight between the sheets and his musculature on your back. “Mmnnn…” His fingers roam the head of your cock, pressing into the slit with skill. Rubbing precum all over your tip. Your balls have never felt so full.

“Call me Kento, hm?” he says. 

“Ahn… I’m (Name).” 

“Handsome name.” His pace quickens. Edged with desperation. Oh, fuck. He’s starting to throb inside you. 

His grunts break off into loud moans of your name. The pace of his hand grows. His fingers twist around your tip in mind-numbing, impossibly nimble strokes.

“Sir, Kento—please slow… down… oh!”

His hand is so fucking slick on your cock. Like creamy butter wrapping around your length. You cry out and buck wildly against him, your hips pushing him away while he pushes merciless, borderline violent thrusts into your prostate.

“Please oh god please please I can’t—I can’t—” you whine, begging for him to stop because you’re going to cum all over his sheets in under a minute since he’s started fucking you like he means it. 

He tames your hips, pushing a strong hand into the small of your back. Your spine stays arched. God he’s taking such good care of you, ensuring the perfect arch in your back so that his thrusts don’t push into a limp spine and end up injuring you.

Your body still struggles against him, the onset of an orgasm approaching too fast. “Kento, please....”

His cock gives a violent throb inside you. If you could see his face, you would see the deep furrow between his brows, the way your words have him gritting his teeth.

“You can,” he tells you. “You will. You are. I’m going to make you cum while I put my baby inside you.” 

His body envelops yours. Kento hunches over you. His thrusts lose their rhythm, and can you really blame him when he’s drunk and fucking into someone as good as you? The heat of his labored, hard breathing falls over your ear. You know he’s having a hard time trying to hold back, trying to get you there at the same time as him. 

But his thrusts only get harder. Impossibly. More brutal, more desperate than you thought possible. You fall face-first into the pillow, his own face pressed into the back of your head, buried in your hair. Through the haze of your fast-approaching orgasm you feel him murmur praise and thanks into your hair. 

“Feel so good,” he says. “(Name), you feel so good.” 

His mouth finds the back of your ear. He moans those same sweet nothings. Praising you, a good samaritan of a stranger, not for helping him home or offering to share a snack earlier, but for finally keeping your back arched for him, for being a good hole for him, for spreading your legs for him.

He tugs at your hair to remove your face from the pillow, and you know he might be a little bit angry to see you hiding your pleasure from him. With a hand on your head, fingers locked into your hair, he uses you as leverage to pound into your ass, his face still pressed up against you. You feel the weight of him closing over you. He engulfs every other sense.

You gasp in oxygen. Whining and press your ass back into his hips, begging with your body for him to get you to cum all over his sheets.

He moans from behind you. You feel his cock pulsate. Your own throbs as he squeezes it in his hand.

“Told you—” he grunts. “I don’t last long at this pace.” 

You moan with him as his cock shoots cum up your hole. You savor his sounds, cupping the back of his neck with a hand to bring him close to you, upon the crook of your neck. He shudders with his orgasm, collapsing on top of you and forcing your kness to give, your cock squished between your body and the sheets. He presses even deeper inside in this position. You feel his back arch to push in until you know every centimeter of him is throbbing inside you, working to plug you full of his cum. His hand cups your face, lovingly. His other grips your hip to bring you closer to him, so that you are hip to ass, no space in between.

“Fuck, you didn’t cum,” he mutters, even as he’s still piping you full of his cream. He pulls out and you don’t even see how he moves, the world simply spins, and then you’re on your back and for a moment his cum shoots onto your stomach, the tip of his cock twitching with his orgasm, before he’s filling you again. 

His hand finds your cock. But by then he’s already close to finishing, his eyes fluttering with the rest of his orgasm. His breathing comes out as labored moans as his cock erupts with cum inside you. Through the intense orgasm, he still manages to prop your legs over his shoulders in a swift movement and resume his thrusts at only a fraction behind the breakneck pace from earlier.

He slams into your prostate, already finished and ascending into the pain of overstimulation. You see it on his face. He squeezes at your cock and borderline abuses the sensitive, quavering tip. 

“Cum for me?” he asks with a grunt.

Your cock throbs as you cum all over his abs. Given the pace your moans are loud, desperate, the squelches of his hand squeezing your cock and your own hole wrapping tight around him a wild cacophony that emerges as a pleasant symphony to his ears.

He chuckles. “There we go.” 

When you finish, dazed eyes focused on a blurry point on the ceiling, he presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Good boy.” 

Water splashes in the next room as your stranger runs a bath. When he pulled out, giving you another kiss, this time on your jawline, he had immediately rushed to the bathroom to grab you a clean towel. You’d never been pumped so full of someone else’s cum before. Even he seemed surprised.

The man, Kento, you remember moaning, approaches the bed. “May I?” 

You spread your legs. You don’t have it in you in the present moment to be independent or shy. He was the one who made the mess inside you, after all. 

He wipes the cum dribbling out your hole gently. His hand settles gently on your knee as he works. Then he flips the towel to its cleaner side to wipe your cum from your stomach. Seems like he’s cleaned your cum off of his abdomen.

He stares at your stomach for a moment, eyes fluttering in thought. Before he can wipe the fluids away, you scoop up a good amount with your fingers. You rise into a sitting position. Face moving close to his. He opens his mouth as you give him a taste of your cum with your fingers. 

You laugh deeply. “Ha. Good boy.” 

[riririnnnn]

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

Disclaimer: This piece of writing isn't supposed to be looked through the lenses of a cat expert. Everything is just for fun.

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Cat Lock! Blue Lock characters as Cats!

-> Michael Kaiser

❍ You found him in a dumpster. I don't make the rules, it's canon—trust me, Kaneshiro-san himself told me.

❍ High maintenance. Doesn't eat low quality cat food, but will munch the leftovers from your plate as if it were the last meal he is having.

❍ Will hiss at anyone who isn't you.

❍ Will not allow anyone to touch him except you.

❍ Glares at you when you smell like any other cat.

❍ Your lap? No, it's his lap since the day he first touched them with his paws. He has claimed it for himself and even Gods can't change his mind.

❍ Bites you during minor inconveniences, but at the end of the day, he always leaves his bed to sleep on your fucking face.

❍ Very photogenic.

❍ Headbutts to ask for head pats and looks at you as if they are his birth rights. (They are.)

-> Mikage Reo

⊂⊃ Pathetic wet cat. Very pathetic (affectionate).

⊂⊃ Whines a lot.

⊂⊃ You smell like some other cat? Whines. You smell like someone else? Whines. You came one minute extra late from your work? WHINES.

⊂⊃ Will collect coins or any circular coin-like thing and proudly gives them to you.

⊂⊃ Cuddling 24/7. Will knead biscuits on your cheeks.

⊂⊃ Will lick your face 24/7.

⊂⊃ CLINGY!

⊂⊃ Stays by the door and whines, "Meow? Meow?" for a good 10 minutes after you go outside and leave him alone.

⊂⊃ Will not appreciate you bringing a lover home 'cause that way, you don't give him attention 24/7.

⊂⊃ Will get in between of you and your lover's cuddling time.

-> Kurona Ranze

⛧ tiny.

⛧ Sharp teeth and claws.

⛧ Nibbles on your fingers daily. Don't worry, he is very careful.

⛧ However, if you fake hurt, he'll stop immediately.

⛧ Then will look at you with a sorry expression and give little licks on the bite marks. Will also bring his favourite plush toy and give it to you as an apology.

⛧ Loves your warmth and wants to stay nestled against your chest.

⛧ Patiently waits for you to get back home and always greets you at the door with a small, "Meow~"

⛧ Never refuses your head pats.

⛧ Loves to watch TV with you, especially those TV shows related to Sharks.

-> Bachira Meguru

ღ ZOOMIES! ZOOMIES! ZOOMIES!

ღ Very energetic.

ღ Doesn't understand human furnitures much, so he bonks himself into them during his zoomies.

ღ Doesn't understand the concept of personal space. Will barge into the bathroom while you try to take a dump.

ღ Will try to slurp your bathwater.

ღ Treats! Treats! Treats!

ღ Snuggles up at the crook of your neck to take a nap.

ღ Will proudly bring bugs, lizards, mice and some snakes to you as a gift.

ღ Wakes you up in the morning by jumping all over you and licking your face.

ღ Will try to feed you his cat treats and cat food.

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

Hope everything is in character.

Might make more for other characters.

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

[meazalykov]

the golden girl

uswnt x uswnt!reader

summary: what happened in a world where reader played on the USWNT in the 2019 World Cup?

part one (part two here)

Knowing that the call at eight am could change the pathway of my career, I couldn’t sleep. My mind spins rapidly as I tried to close my eyes and manipulate myself into believing that tomorrow would be an ordinary day, but that didn’t work. 

Hi! My name is Y/n L/n and I am a soccer player who plays for club Olympique Lyon. I am a forward who many people call the “next big thing,” since I am only 19 years old. 

After winning the Champions League final with Lyon, scoring a brace which involved a penalty, my career seemed to go in a great path that was unordinary for a teenager. 

I sat on my bed, criss-crossed, as I stared at the digital alarm clock on my bedside table. 4:38am. Three hours and twenty two minutes until I get the call. 

After traveling to my hometown in the United States, Virginia Beach, I traveled to the last International camp, before the World Cup, in order to “try out” for a World Cup roster spot. My mentality is great, my skills during the camp were phenomenal and I believe I proved that to the coaches, but I am young. 

The coaches will prioritize other forwards like Alex Morgan, Tobin Heath, Megan Raphinoe, and Christen Press first. I am aware of that. They’ve won the 2015 World Cup four years ago and have the experience to go up again. However, everyone knows that the USWNT will need to bring on youngsters to set themselves up for future competitions, so I have confidence that I'll be the one they’ll call. 

Three hours and twenty minutes later, I sat at my dining room table in Lyon, preparing for the unexpected. 

My phone’s flashlight goes off a few times and my screen brightens at the sight of my International Coach’s number. 

“Hey.” I spoke first as my finger pressed on the green button. The nervousness in my voice was present, I wanted this decision to go my way. 

“Hi Y/n! How are you feeling right now!?” My United States coach, Jill Ellis, asked. 

“I’m- Um— I’m nervous.” I told the truth. I heard a small chuckle come from the coach which I raised my eyebrows at. The tension on my end could be cut with a sharp knife. The lack of sleep made my nerves worse too. 

“Well I have some news for you.” Jill said. I swallowed on nothing as the next few seconds can predict how my day– sorry— year will go. I know she has to call other players about the decisions for them so our call won’t last long, thankfully. 

“Let me start off by saying that all of the coaching staff, including myself, needed to consider someone who is young and has a lot of quality. We were impressed by the amount of work you've put into our international camps and we’ve kept up on your club experience at Lyon for more reference. So, we’ve chosen you to be on the roster to represent the United States in the 2019 World Cup.” The excitement in Jill’s voice grew when she announced that I would be in the World Cup. 

However, most of what she said sounded muffled through the happy tears that poured down my eyes. I couldn’t believe it! My hard work paid off. 

“Thank you!” I said. 

“No Thank you Y/n! We’ll see you soon, Bye!” Jill ended the call before I jumped in joy. 

A couple of months later, I sat on the bench in France as the USWNT was up against Thailand in the group stage. It was the 64th minute and we were up 7-0. As I sat on the bench, my heart raced faster out of nervousness. Eventually, my head turned when I heard her call my name. I am excited, but my stomach felt like there was a rock in it. The weight of expectations settled squarely on my shoulders as I looked at the ongoing game. 

We are winning the game by seven, but I still wanted to prove my best to the coach, teammates, and the fans. When I stood up, my legs felt like jelly making my way to the touchline. The crowd's roar was deafening, every step closer to the pitch amplifying my nerves. 

“You’re going to go on for Raphinoe. We are up 7-0 but use this as an opportunity to get a feel of the field and experience.” Jill spoke with empathy as she patted on my back, allowing me to do the required warmup on the sideline before standing at the midline. 

I tried to shake off the doubts, reminding myself of the countless hours of practice that had brought me to this moment. The nerves in my legs wouldn’t calm down. Maybe I can use that as a source of adrenaline. 

Running onto the field in replacement for Raphinoe, the enormity of the occasion hit me like a ton of bricks. The stadium seemed to stretch endlessly all around me, filled with thousands of spectators watching my every move. I took a deep breath, trying to calm my racing heart. The ball was at the other end of the field, giving me a moment to collect myself.

Then, Julie Ertz shot the ball over the left side of the field to gain space. The ball landed on my ivory-colored cleat and I dribbled around a Thailand opponent before passing to Alex Morgan who lightly tapped the ball behind the net. Goal!

My jaw dropped in realization as Alex jogged over to hug me. Some of the girls on the pitch came to congratulate me on the assist as others clapped their hands. I didn’t take it offensively, we are up 8-0 now and there's not much to celebrate now besides the inevitable win. My first touch in the World Cup gave an assist which I later found impressed spectators. 

I glanced at my teammates when the game started again, finding reassurance in their encouraging, yet concentrated, nods and smiles. They had confidence in my abilities, even if I struggled to find it within myself sometimes. With each passing second, my nerves began to settle, now replaced by a fierce determination to prove myself worthy of wearing the US jersey.

Eventually, I found myself caught up in the rhythm of the play. My eyes were on the ball, blocking out the noise of the crowd and the pressure of the moment. With each touch and pass to a teammate, my confidence grew and my movements became more fluid and precise.

Then, in the 73rd minute, it happened. A perfectly timed pass by Samantha Mewis found my feet. At this point I wanted to be the goalscorer, not the assist. With a burst of speed, I raced towards the goal and dribbled around the defenders who were in the way of the goal, the screaming chants of the crowd fading into the background as they saw what I was doing. At that moment, there was only me, the ball, and the goal.

My right foot unleashed a powerful shot, the ball rocketing into the back of the net with a stunning curve. Goal! The stadium erupted into cheers, the sound washing over me like a tidal wave of euphoria as my teammates ran to congratulate me on my first ever goal in the World Cup. For a brief moment, I allowed myself to bask in the glory of my achievement, the weight of my nerves finally lifted off of my shoulders. The game ended in a 13-0 win for us!

Later in the World Cup tournament, I found myself on the bench as my heart pounded at the match in front of me. Thanks to Alex Morgan and Christen Press who scored in the Semifinal against the Lionesses, we were in the World Cup final against the Dutch. 

As the game enters the 79th minute, with the score being 2-0, the coach calls my name. This took me by surprise since I didn’t believe that any substitutes would join the final. When I stood up, my legs felt like lead as I made my way onto the pitch for Tobin Heath, who had an injury earlier in the tournament and couldn't play all 90 minutes. The roar of the crowd washes over me, drowning out the doubts that threatened to consume me since I am on the right wing.

With only minutes remaining, I can’t make a mistake. I have to make every second count. We are up 2-0 but the Netherlands could easily catch up if we make a few errors, they’re EURO champions and have a statement to make for the world.

As I focus on the ball, blocking out the noise of the crowd and the pressure of the moment, the 89th minute comes along. Krieger gets the ball from a Dutch forward and launches the ball in the air towards Rose Lavelle. The girl who scored the second goal in the final headed the ball over the field again before it landed onto my feet— This is my chance. 

My feet take the ball towards the goal. Veenendaal, the Dutch Goalkeeper, sets herself up in a ready position. As I race closer to the goal, my heart pounds in my chest. The defenders close in but I dribble around them effortlessly. An Oranje defender missed her chance to side tackle me as my left foot unleashed a powerful shot. The ball grazed the tip of Veenendaal’s fingers and the ball hit the back of the net with stunning precision. Goal!

The stadium erupts into cheers as I run to the corner of the pitch to celebrate. A typical knee slide that allowed my knees to slide through the soft grass before I stood up and turned to my teammates who rushed to congratulate me. Everyone on the bench got up and ran to me as well to celebrate. At that moment, the voice in my head told me that I’ve done it. My goal gave everyone the reassurance that we secured a World Cup win for the USWNT four times. 

After winning the Bronze Ball, Gold Medal, and being able to take pictures with the World Cup trophy itself, I cried. The tears wouldn’t stop after my bestfriend Mallory Pugh hugged me as she cried as well. We were so happy, I have never felt so proud of myself and my team. 

Hopefully 2023 will secure us a three-peat…. 

part two here

[honeyvettel]

17+24 PeccoVale

17. tending to an injury/wound/illness + 24. showing up injured at their friend/mentor’s house | pecco/vale, set after jerez 2025, slight daddy kink. cw: mention of blood, wounds, self-harm. [1.1k]

(from this prompt list here)

pecco never thought of himself as a violent guy. not even when he was younger, when boys his age would spend afternoons smashing broken things in the empty lots outside turin, or picking pointless fights in school courtyards just to feel the weight of their own fists. he never joined them. he stayed in his lane, quiet, unbothered, keeping his distance; and maybe that’s what made them hate him most of all— the way he seemed not to care, the way he never flinched. they must have thought he believed he was better than them. and he did, sometimes. now, pecco is not so sure anymore. not when he’s been lying crumpled in the corner of his motorhome for the past half hour, watching blood bubble out from his knuckles and pool on the floor in slow, sticky drops. drip.drip.drip. he isn’t a violent guy. it’s just that sometimes the ringing in his head gets too loud, and the air presses down so heavy it feels like it might choke him. and when it gets like that, he needs to let it out— something not as final as jumping off a rooftop, but close enough to scrape against the same kind of hurt. so he punched the wall. big deal. people do worse these days, he tells himself— shoot their families, set their lives on fire for no reason at all. a few cracked knuckles hardly makes him a monster. still, it’s not the same when you spend years polishing this image of yourself, parading around your gentlemanly qualities, the kind of man who gets to wear a clean badge around and stand among the good guys. pecco wonders if they should take that badge away now, after this— inconvenience. he scoffs under his breath, staring down at the blood drying slowly across his knuckles, flaking at the edges. it had felt good at first—the first punch, and then the second—the sharp, jarring shock of it collapsing the noise inside his head into a perfect, blissful silence. now, all that he feels it’s just guilt. tomorrow there’s testing; tomorrow he’ll have to show up into the garage and explain the torn skin to his mechanics, find some half-truth that doesn’t make him sound as fucked up as he feels. he doesn’t even have a first aid kit lying around to try and save the situation— just his hands, split open and empty. he presses a fingertip to the worst of the scabs, feels the pain spark outwards like fireworks, a reminder to himself of what he’s capable of doing to his own body. he sits up, before he can start slipping into that dark place again. and he walks, to the only person he knows can make everything right again.

“pecco.”

when he opens the door, valentino’s voice cuts through andalusia's heavy, humid air—sharp, and surprised. he fixes his gaze to the way pecco is curling his hand to his chest, trying to hide it with the trembling shelter of the other. but the blood is too visible not to notice. "come, come," valentino says quickly, already turning back inside. "sorry," pecco mutters, stepping in. "i—i don’t have a kit in my motorhome."  he feels like he should offer an excuse—a slip in the shower, knocking something over in the garage. but he knows valentino is smarter than that; he has always been able to see through their clumsy lies. “sit on the couch,” the other instructs. valentino disappears into the bathroom, and comes back holding a small plastic box. when he finally gets a good look at pecco’s knuckles he hisses under his breath. “ah, that looks–” but doesn’t finish the sentence. he gathers pecco’s hand between his own, and starts dabbing antiseptic into the worst parts, brows pinched. pecco knows how squeamish valentino is with blood and injuries; he is too, more often than not. sometimes he wonders if he’s inherited it from him — the way every kid from the academy carries some piece of vale without even noticing. he looks down at the split skin and feels his stomach turn. “don’t look,” valentino shushes, as if he can read pecco’s thoughts. the cotton ball soaks through fast, and valentino swaps it for another with quick, steady hands. “sorry, i don’t— i can’t—” pecco stammers, the words crumbling as his throat tightens. the shame coils like a cord around his heart; he feels like a child, disobeying his father’s warnings. but vale only flicks his wrist, a light, dismissive gesture. “you should ask luca about the time i tried to put a dent in the garage door,” he says, voice easy, almost laughing. “pathetic, really. barely scuffed my knuckles, but the pain—god, it was something else.” he peels open a sterile bandage and begins wrapping it around pecco’s bruised hand, the touch gentle. “bad times, those,” valentino murmurs, half to himself. pecco guesses it must’ve been those grim years at ducati, when the bike was a wild, stubborn thing refusing to bend. the thought twists inside his gut; he’s got the best machine on the grid and here he is, punching walls like a messy teenager. “there we go,” valentino says cheerfully, tucking the last strand of gauze neatly under the strip of tape. pecco stares down at the bright white of the bandage, how the blood is already seeping through. a wave of humiliation crashes over him before he can do something about it, hot and stinging. his hand looks small, ridiculous; useless. “pecco,” valentino says, when he notices the tears that has gathered around the corner of his eyes, a note of sorrow stitched into his voice. he rises just to fold back down beside him, knees brushing. valentino's arms open, and pecco goes without thinking, curling small and tight. “it’s nothing,” valentino breathes against his temple, pressing a kiss there, light as a benediction. his hand moves along his back —up and down, up and down— a slow, unhurried rhythm meant to soothe. “daddy’s here,” he says around a chuckle, the same teasing lilt from the other day in the garage, where they had hugged and vale told him about his nonna. he had gathered him in his arms, shaking him gently, laughing. ma che bravo che sei, ma che bravo. she’d just shake me, and shower me with praise, vale had said. pecco doesn’t know what to do with any of this, now. he just buries his face tighter into valentino’s shoulder, heart hammering hard and uneven. “you’ll figure it out,” vale says, voice lower, pitched soft against the shell of his ear. “i know you will.”  pecco, selfishly, tries to believe him.

[fivelasanctum]

Five getting dressed up for Lila

As you can see, Five is still clearly in his grandpa retirement clothes in this scene. Adding that lila smile at Diego jumping to conclusions about her and Five bathing together lol

Fast forward to them working on building their makeshift time machine. Wish we had more scenes with that. Given their were blue prints and all. Made with soup cans, old radio etcetera they found around the hotel according to the prop auction. Here Lila was watching Five, checking him out. Even complimented him given she tried to kill him as a greeting not too long ago. Five changed his old man garb to a sharp, well tailored suit for his adventure date with lila ♥ He could have easily stayed in his clothes he was in before given the pressing nature of the universe collapsing on itself and all.

Five was surprised at her praising his appearance. Compliments from his enemy and all. Going with it by saying he know he looks good since the tailor is a master at his craft. My take on the interaction here haha

Throwing the passive aggressive verbal jabs back at her when she started the banter after the compliment. That strained, sardonic smile. (Sorry for the low quality screencaps)

[cluelessatthispoint]

Hello :)

Since requests are open, may I ask for a soldier!reader who gets lost all the time with some yandere!platonic demo? I just wanna hold his hand as he guides me around because only God knows how many times I spent more than half the game trying to find where the fuck I was supposed to go lol. I'm sorry if this is bad ;(

Yandere!Platonic Demo: So Soldier, ready to kick some ass?! ...Soldier? ...Y/N?!

Soldier!Reader, at the other side of the map: ...why did I just hear someone scream my name...?

This made me kick my feet and giggle like a school girl. It's been such a long time since I've written anything. I do apologize for the LONG absence. I'll be writing more in the upcoming weeks!!! I PROMISE!!!

Platonic yandere Demoman x Soldier reader

It's been a long, long day. The type of day where you find that the sun is shining just a tad too bright. Or that feeling of when your socks don't fit as their supposed to inside your boots. Too hot, too stuffy, too loud. Everytime the damned enemy scout passes by he always has a quip to say or a slur tumbles rudely past his too loud lips. Yes. One of those days.

Running past the massive boulders along the track, the enemy gunfire overhead rings loudly in your ears. Guns firing loudly, screams of agony as bones break and skin tears. A feeling of gratitude wells in your chest as you thank God you haven't run into the enemy Pyro.

"Heh, heh. Just a lil more."

*with the boisterous din overhead and now echoing behind you with each stride you take. Your voice sounds foreign, almost muffled to your ears. Medic just despises how many times you saunter to his office with a sheepish look in your eyes and a nervous spring in your step as you explain haphazardly about hearing damage. The older man now having a chart of how many times you visit his office monthly.

Slowly, you huff and puff as you come to a stop. Normally the sounds of battle would orient you and keep you grounded, keeps you alert. Heart pounding, the scenery around you looks unfamiliar. Not strangely so, but still. Its..unnerving.

"Sweet son of a....where the hell?"

Turning your head to the right, then to the left. You scan your surroundings from top to bottom. One of those tricks sniper taught you as soon as you joined the team. "Helps keep you out of respawn longer." The aussie said with a chortle. Rolling your eyes and muttering swears that even the most unsavory of sailors wouldn't utter. A snarl finds it way to your lips as you throw your helmet down with as much strength as you can muster. The sound of metal hitting loose rocks and soil makes a twanging thud that could even be heard by your damaged ears.

"Aye laddie, careful there. Wouldn't wan tae damage tha helmet name would we?"

The sound of that familiar accented voice makes you freeze. Even with the muffled quality that your ringing ears bring, you can still tell when an enemy is close. The Demoman. Not your team's Demo, as the sound of an explosion rings out in the distance...so by the process of elimination, it's the enemy Demo who's just spoken. Whirling around with a snarl on your lips, swinging your hand back to grasp your market gardner. Your hand finds nothing there as you grasp around for it blindly.

"Laddie, relax. Ye shovel ain't there, fell off the last rocket jump ye took."

Glaring at the Scotsman, you can feel how your fingers twich anxiously. Not only because your in the midst of an enemy, but also because your lost and in the midst of an enemy. Feeling the sharp pang of bile rising in the back of your throat. You cough gutterally to clear it. It sounds gross, even to you. But judging the Demo's unperturbed expression, you can gather that he's seen and heard alot worse. Idly kicking your right heel against the soil, the feeling of your misaligned sock against your foot brings you back to the present. Your voice a little scratchy breaks the silence.

"I'm lost."

"You're lost? I gathered tha as soon as me one good eye caught a glimpse of ye wanderin round back ere." The Demo says with an amused gaze as he shift his hips from one side to the other.

"I can help ye find yer way back if ye need."

The sound of the offer does seem too good to be true. But then again. Getting lost does seem to happen quite a bit for you in particular compared to everyone else on the team. It's not your fault entirely. It just a combination of all sorts of things. Namely your sense of directing being a few degrees off, and your helmet that hangs too infront of your eyes, and of course the discord of daily battles and the rotations from location to location.

"Fine...I'd..I would like your help Demo." The sound of asking, pleading the way you just did, sounds so off-putting when coming from your vocal chords. But, with the way things are currently...you need his help.

Smirking, not in a mean way. The Demo holds out his right hand in a sign of invitation to take it. Hesitantly placing your hand in his own. You can immediately feel the smoothness of his palms and the warmth that he eminates. It's not at all what you would have expected from the enemy Demo. Always so loud, rude, boisterous and overall a drunken, bomb loving dick. He is warm.

The walk back is silent, save for the cries and howls of pain in the distance that steadily grow louder the closer you two get. The Demo never once relinquishing your hand from his grip.

"Aye lad, almost there. Almost there. When we get back, I won't go blasting ye to kingdom come, an I expect ye to not go bludgeoning me to death as soon as ye can. A fair trade off. Aye?"

You can only nod in response at the man's words. Normally the drunk would be a pain in the ass. If Scout were the one showing you back to the battlegrounds...he probably wouldn't.

"Thank you Demo."

"Don't thank me laddie, I see ye all the time wandering the battle grounds. Ye get lost more easily than the others-an I can't be havin tha."

Wondering what he could possibly mean by saying that. You don't get much time to ponder as you soon feel a warm hand clasp your shoulder in a friendly pat. The noise of the grounds and the various members of each team dying and respawning soon greet your senses. The sounds- as muffled as they are, sound softer than they should be due to your hearing damage. No sooner did you take one step forward did you feel an arm holding you back. A soft, Scottish accent floating in your ears as a warm breath ghosts over the side of your face.

"I'll be watching ye, don't get lost. Aye?"

And with that, the Demo chugs along down the hill back into the noisy throng of bloodshed and screams. Leaving you, standing confused where you stand.

*****

I'm back yall

[ruwriteshours]

MY PRIORITY JENO DRABBLE.

giving Jeno the taste of his own medicine when he decided to ignore you for his game.

genre: fluff, suggestive

warning: none

"Babe!" You whined, hand clutching onto his arms as you shook him lightly, "Pay attention to me!"

Jeno, however, didn't react in the slightest as he was preoccupied with his gaming. His headphone set around his head as he yelled out childishly at Haechan for almost making him lose.

You sigh.

It had been approximately four hours since Jeno had gotten invested in his stupid video game, you huffed in annoyance as he completely ignored your presence. It's not like you were the one who needed company, heck! He was the one that invited you to hang out so that you could spend some quality time together.

Clearly, he had his priorities jumbled up.

Opting to stop your advances, you stormed out of his room in frustation, picking up your stuff from the couch as you left his apartment complex, not glancing back even for a second.

Unfortunately for the oblivious boy, he didn't take note of your absence, too immersed to notice that you had left.

It was when another hour went by when he decided that he has had enough of his time on his computer, shutting it off as he called out your name, waiting for you to come. However, upon receiving silence in return, he grew confused and began looking around.

His mood completely shifted when he realises that you had left, rushing back to his bedroom to give you a call, he groaned in frustation when you didn't pick up, knowing that he had fucked up and now, you were upset. He dashed outside his apartment, knowing exactly what he needed to do to make it up to you.

Unbeknowst to you, you were back in your apartment. Loud speaker filled the place as you were baking cookies, an activity that Jeno planned to do with you today. You were jamming into the music that you hadn't realised the constant banging outside your front door, a chorus of pleads escaped Jeno's lips as he was practically begging to be let in.

After a couple of minutes at his failed attempts, he came up with a ridiculous idea to sneak into your balcony, knowing that you were at the lowest level, making it easier for him to climb up.

Just as you placed your dough inside the oven, you heard a loud thump in your room, you jumped at the sudden noise. Picking up a sharp knife as you made your way towards your room, hand shaking slightly from fear. However, you soon turned annoyed when you were greeted by your sheepish boyfriend, a hand holding onto a bag full of snacks as he gave you an apologetic look.

"Did you just crash into my apartment?" You asked incredulously, lowering down your knife to glare at the boy.

"You didn't answer the door." He replied meekly, as if it was the most simple solution.

You rolled your eyes, not wanting to give Jeno the light of day as you made your way back to the kitchen, ignoring his calls.

"Babe!" He whined, "I'm really sorry, I was an ass." He followed behind you, watching as you did the dishes in silence.

"Don't ignore me!"

You tuned out his voice, giving him the taste of his own medicine as you smiled secretly at his childish behaviour.

"I said I'm sorry." He came closer, hand gripping your waist from behind. "I even brought your favourite snacks."

Deciding to torture him further, you pushed his hand away as you slipped away from his grasp. He pouted at your actions, trailing behind you like a dejected puppy.

You sat on the couch and began watching your favourite show, all while Jeno sat beside you, trying to gain your attention, acting clingier than usual as you practically shove him away from getting closer.

"How long are you gonna punish me?"

"Doesn't feel nice now, does it?" You retorted, crossing you arms as you faced the tv screen.

"I'm sorry!" He hugged you tighter, "I promise to never touch a single game in my entire life!"

You scoffed, removing his hold on you. "We both know that's a lie."

"Well, then make me do chores or something. Make me buy lunch for a week— months even! Just please don't ignore me."

You laughed at your boyfriend's antics, "You're so dramatic, Jeno."

"Oh no, you're even calling me Jeno." He gasped comically, making an attempt to hug you. "I don't deserve to live!"

"Knock it off."

"Not until you forgive me, I will grovel for as long until then."

"What am I gonna do with you?" You asked rhetorically, brushing his hair back as his face was squished at your lower stomach. You groaned, "Fine, I forgive you."

His head immediately perked up as his pout quickly turned into a smile and he began tackling you on the couch, straddling you as he place kisses all over your face, giggling when you let out a squeal of suprise.

"I love you so much, babe." He began peppering light kisses down your jaw.

"I love you too." You said softly, staring into his brown orbs. "Even if you are an ass sometimes."

The both of let out a humourless laugh before seeping through the moment, you saw how Jeno's eyes shifted between your eyes and your lips, a look of mischief behind them as the both of you leaned in at the same time.

Getting lost in trance, you didn't realised that you were making out with Jeno. The way his lips brushed against yours tenderly, mouth moulding against each other as he began nibbling your bottom lip. Your hand tugged against his blonde hair, as your legs wrapped itself around his hips as you pulled him closer, deepening the kiss in the proccess.

Moaning against his mouth, his tongue delved deep into yours, saliva mixing together as his hand were trailing up to the hem of your shirt.

His warm hands soon made its way inside your shirt and you shuddered at the sensational feeling, loving the way he was taking the time to ensure that he could feel every inch of your upper body.

Just as he was about to unclasp your bra to let the situation escalate, a fire alarm interrupted the intimate moment, sending the both of you jolting away from each other as the blaring noise startled the both of you.

Looking towards the source of the noise, you could see the black smoke coming out of the oven, causing you to gasp in shock.

"My cookies!"

©ruwriteshours

[neocelticavalon]

Apritello Fantasy AU doodles

Sharing some scraps, doodles of my fav ship☺💕💜💛💜

Tribunal Donatello fantasy AU concept art (i got inspired mostly from the ninja tribunal 2003) kinda improved the ideas a bit after that long looong sleep lmfao🥲👆👆👆 (yeah I am sooo lazy at drawing him fullbody 🥲)

I forgot to add some details at phase 2 such as growing sharp claws. As he learned having glowing skin at his age, he suddenly grew canine-like teeth, having a tremendous appetite (probably meat), his stamina grew two times stronger, he weight two times bigger and heavier, grew strong sense of smell (?)🤨. After April was done sparring at the castle's field, she sneaks out and brought raw herrings and venison meat for the turtle brothers. Knight April knows that Donnie loves venison meat as he loves her marmalade jam. Everytime knight April pays a visit, Donnie loves seeing her, made him even nervous and it made his skin glows brighter, feeling happy as his heart keep thumping and thumping, made him even more confused. He keep thinking "What's happening to me....?!?!?!" and he still want to figure out whats happening to him. April did noticed his odd changes (glowing skin, canine teeth, grew claws, strong sense of smell, he always churrs beside her, etc). Those odd changes didn't creeped her out btw instead April is aware of his conditions as a turtle & cares for him.

April lived in a different world where they thought dragons, komodo armies, dungeon monsters etc are long gone and wiped out many years ago (lets say bcs of wars & conflict). If you're asking me how come they meet each other, Knight April kinda got separated from the royal troops after a rough fighting with bandits in the forest, April and the royal troops are guarding a wagon full of....let's say treasures from the castle. April's dad was in the wagon with his assistant, the bandits kinda want the treasures and kidnapped April's dad (with a purpose?) hmmm....so April got pretty injured and unconscious after she threw herself to the lake so the bandits won't find her. Mikey saw her falling to the lake and called his brothers to help the poor girl April, she drowned in the lake, I think Donnie jumped into the water to save her. Leo said to the brothers, he saw no sign of her breathing, and Mikey said "I suggests one of us have to do mouth to mouth!" and Leo, Mikey, Raph were staring at Donnie for a long time (ppftt!) Donnie be likee..."Why it has to be me!!??" oh my gosh...that scene always shown in my head ahahahhahah🤣🤣🤣

This scene, April decided to stick around with turtle brothers a bit longer. At nighttime, Donnie saw April at the lush green field, found beautiful fireflies. Donnie keep staring at her bcs he never seen a female human knight before. They're pretty much hanging out like friends, sitting and talking. She's talking how she misses her dad so much, the village, her best friend Irma, the villagers market, the kids at the orphanage, everything.

Sorry about the crappy pic quality 🥲🥲 and please ignore my broken english writing🙏🙏

🛡💜Any support like reblogs, comments and likes are GREATLY APPRECIATED!!! Toodles, loves!💜⚔👑

ASK BOX ALWAYS OPEN!!😉📮

[bep1erfics]

hiiii welcome back!! can i request having a big argument with ricky and ignoring him for weeks (yn has a heart of steel 😓) before he finally walks up to you and starts crying in your chest begging you to forgive him? take your time iloveyouuuuuuu 💋💋💕

shen ricky - forgiven ⛅️

‼️ slightly suggestive, semi angst, happy ending

thank you for requesting! i havent property written in a while so the quality might not be there. nevertheless, enjoy reading :)

tossing and turning in your sheets, your puffy eyes felt heavy as tears started to tremble down your flushed cheeks, absorbing in the corners of your mouth where you could taste the saltiness. to your surprise, you had argued with your boyfriend, ricky, for the first time over something so petty. being upset that he ignored your existence for the whole duration of his friend’s party you tagged along to, your frustration got the best of you during the car ride home.

in silence, you crossed your arms and looked outside the dark, secluded area via the window. ricky knew you well enough to know that when you zipped your lips, something wasn’t right.

“baby, Is everything okay? what’s wrong?” he asked, while being soft spoken. ricky never raised his voice at you because he despised the people who treated their partners badly. this made his head spin as he didn’t quite realise why you were so upset. you’ve never acted like this before.

ricky being oblivious made you even angrier. the fact that he didn’t realise what he had done to cause you to shift into this state was like a sharp sting. suddenly, you raised your voice at him as you got out of the car, opening the door to his house to grab all your belongings. you were done with him.

shirts, photos, decorations magically appeared in your hands as you aimed them at ricky. after your fit, you finally got your things and left him behind as he begged you to not turn your back against him. being too angry to finally come to your senses that you had ruined a once loving relationship, your back turned against the boy you had been head over heels with. sometimes, you wished that you weren’t so hot-headed when it came to the stupidest things. however, what ricky did today made you furious.

 you knew you were in the wrong and that he got in the midst of catching up with his friends, but it was too late to apologise. you had already made up your mind. 

starting from today, speaking to ricky was not the ordeal. to be completely honest, you wanted to avoid him at all costs because you didn’t really know how to fully express the word sorry. so when the boy knocked on your door, you ignored him. when he came inside your room with flowers, you went outside and threw the bouquet in the bin. little did you know, this broke ricky's weak heart. what did he do wrong? he asked himself.

never once did you give in to his pleads, even though your heart told you otherwise.

as weeks had passed, you thought ricky would eventually take the hint that you didn’t wanna see him, and he did. in fact, he gave you space until he couldn’t take it anymore. so on a saturday night when your parents were out of town, he came crawling back to your feet.

you were getting ready to message ricky, but all of your messages got deleted as you frustratedly shut your phone and tossed it to the side.

“if only i wasn’t so harsh on him” you murmured into your pillow. as you had your little meltdown, you jump up in surprise as you hear a faint, but loud knock on your window.

“who’s there?”

streaks of blonde started to fly in the wind as you tried to contain your laughter. ricky, who was literally floating in the air hanging onto your window, was panting like he had just ran a marathon.

reluctantly, you let him in because you felt a little bad he did this all for you. within a second of climbing through the glass, ricky leaps into your arms and your whole body freezes.

his desperate hug felt like the warmth of the sun on a cool, winter day. he brought the light back in your eyes after what had seemed like years with no contact.

“i missed you so much, angel. i know you’re sick of me but i don’t think i can sleep tonight without checking up on you. i’m sorry for waiting this lon-“

not letting him finish his apology, you cupped his face and pressed your lips against his rose tinted, delicate lips. observing his glistening eyes, your heart softened as his tears were threatening to fall. with your hand still on his cheeks, you could tell that he lost a bit of weight.

“it’s not your fault. i’m sorry for ignoring you because i was mad that you weren’t paying me attention, but i realised how selfish i acted. i missed you too, ricky”

your voice broke as you embraced ricky tightly, reassuring the poor boy that you weren’t mad anymore and that it wasn’t his fault. he caressed your head and kissed your temples, repeating sorry all over again while he trailed his pecks all over your face to make up for the time you’ve spent away from eachother.

“i couldn’t stop thinking about you. don’t shut me out again, please.”

the neediness in his voice was heavier than you could imagine. leaving faint marks on your neck, you didn’t know what to expect next. like a lion targeting his prey, he picked you up with ease and gently placed you on the bed, locking your gaze as the hunger in his movements gave you butterflies to the pit of your stomach.

that morning, you woke up to the face of the one and truly person you cared about. smiling, you tuck the front strands of his hair behind his ears. closing your eyes, you drifted back to sleep with relief, knowing you were safe in the presence of your knight in shining amour.

🤍