#I think it speaks for some of the brilliant acting in the show

[whenyoulikeandwhereyoulike]

Granada Holmes is actually incredible with the subtle things it contains that you miss upon first watching it. I have watched the part in the Empty House where Holmes returns so many times, and just now have I noticed that when Holmes is comforting Mrs Hudson as he's shushing her he murmurs something that sounds to me like "I know. I know," as he hugs her. How have I not noticed this before now?! It honestly doesn't seem to matter how many times I watch it, I will always pick up on a facial expression or murmured line that I missed every time before and I think that's part of the brilliance of the series. There is so much you miss simply by not paying attention for a few seconds

[planetallure]

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ dark!fic recs

CW: once again, these works contain dark and explicit themes that may be upsetting or triggering to some. please use your discretion and discernment.

@cherienymphe : when i first seriously got back on tumblr and got into dark!fanfic, cherie's was one of the first blogs i found. her writing was essentially my indoctrination. it was terrifying how much i loved it/her writing. truly phenomenal. i've read quite of few of her stories (mainly for rafe cameron, jj maybank, steve rogers, and peter parker) but i'll list my faves.

"when the party's over" - its something about this series...i think about it often. if you're into forced pregnancy or corruption tropes, tap in.

"wicked games" - i actually first read this one on ao3 before i discovered her tumblr and was absolutely gagged. another one i think of often.

"amnesiac" - the first series of hers that i ever read. absolutely traumatized me and i sobbed reading it. amazing storytelling.

"the hills" - another bangerrr. a one night stand ends in complete and total blackmail and entrapment. he just wanted to give her a better life *clown face emoji*.

"his father's son" - after ward death, rafe takes over the reins in more ways than one.

"teenage dirtbag" - this series single handedly made me a jj girl. the tension??? yup yup mhm.

"the less i know the better" - ironically my favorite part of this story is readers relationship with rafe but seeing jj slowly and then rapidly descend into madness? yeah.

"claimed" - a/b/o dynamics. brought me back to my wattpad days. still eat it up.

"daddy dearest" - steve meets a single mom and decides to be not the stepdad, but the dad who stepped up.

i'll be honest, i was a non believer in dark!peter but: "she's with me", "one last time." "suburbia" and "basic training" made a believer outta me. hands. down.

@lambtotheslaughterr : it absolutely amazes me the things that come from her mind. the level of creativity and originality needs to be studied. oona, you are criminally underrated.

“rise” - the first series of hers that i read. arguably the best series i’ve read on here thus far. this is the first part to her “the day the world ended” universe and it completely blew me away. i couldn’t believe that something like it had come from some silly little boat show. just brilliant.

“when the bough breaks” - the first work of hers i read. this one for me was a heartbreaking slow burn story, but the smut…makes up for it. yes yes.

“i burn” - sex!addict reader x rafe cameron. need i say more? actually, i will. the smut and tension in this one towards the end? it was shameful how turned on i was.

“one way or another” - buckle up, grab a snack, and prepare for the ride of a lifetime. that’s it.

“something wicked this way comes” - a single mom trying to escape her past, except her past is rafe cameron. this was one very spooky scary la la.

"summit" - the second part to the tdtwe universe. its still brand new but its already feeling like another banger, i mean it's oona. tap in.

@harryspet : rae was also apart of my indoctrination and boy did she do what needed to be done. her perfectly curated moodboards alone did it for me. very mindful, very demure.

"homestead" - what can i say...i'm a sucker for pregnancy stories :( and this series was no exception. absolutely delectable. enjoy.

"well kept" - classic millionaire ceo x reader, my younger wp reading self cheered gleefully. my love language is acts of service and boyy was this one speaking my language. had me at "scheduled braiding appointment."

"bambi eyes" - this one was one of those that made me want to take a good long look in the mirror and ask myself, "is this who we are...is this what we represent?"

@sherrybaby14 : this one is for the mcu girlies. more fics than you could ever ask for. everyone say "thank you, mother!"

"the distraction" - i'm starting to notice a kidnapping/stockholm syndrome pattern here...ANYWAY! work is realllyy stressful for steve and you just happen to be the perfect distraction.

@straywords : she's no longer active but her incredible writings remain so please, peruse. its like a beautiful museum over there.

"a break" - *gasp* another pregnancy story! stucky edition.

@darkficsyouneveraskedfor : an icon, a legend, she is the moment! another infinite library for my mcu girls. roo has all you could ever want or ask for.

@perlelune

"all too well" - yes, yes, another one, its who i am. rafe cameron proving once again that you can't escape him.

"lucky" - best friend!rafe x reader. he didn't know what he had until it was almost gone

"tag, you're it" - never read a scream fanfic before this one but boy did i have fun! chad is so pookie in this too :(

@honestsycrets : back when i was in my miguel era, sy single handedly kept me fed.

"starved | mio" - "mio", in which you babysit mayday and it gives miguel baby fever and "starved", in which he made you a mom...but its left less time for other activities.

"stung" - sex pollen/abo. reader gets bitten by an anomaly causing a reaction that only miguel can cure

"amor y respeto" - he just can't love you the way you need to be. so you and miguel break up...at the worst possible time.

"exclusive" - you and miguel are fuckbuddies. you want more, but miguel can't bring himself to give it to you. so you find company in hobie, who's there for you in all the ways that you need. miguel's not happy about that.

"canary" - you're a singer in the 1920s who's fallen in with the dangerous o'hara brothers.

"grande" - sex!worker miguel x assistant!reader. think...a pepper x tony kinda dynamic. except, miguel doesn't take kindly to certain slights. :)

@starfxkrinc : last but certainly not least! moony is a ridiculously talented writer and a mutal of mine. i found her early on during my resurgence on here. this is her new side blog (rip lovesickbrat and starfxkr!!) luckily she was able to salvage a lot of her past works and is back like she never left. i recommend her "western nights" series (really just the trailer park!jj tag in general) and her "ode to eaters" au. a queen of all things taboo. she does it for the girls who are drawn to the dark and scary. the gross and weird. <3

[merakiui]

something something eldritch monster azul thoughts.

he’s your childhood friend. you meet him in the woods, huddled in the darkness of a burrow beneath an ancient tree, its roots grotesquely gnarled. it’s pitch-black inside, and when you reach in hoping to find a cute bunny or maybe even a family of frogs you don’t expect the darkness to reach back. it coils around your wrist, an obsidian appendage that’s sticky and frigid to the touch. you gasp and the darkness quickly retreats.

“don’t go! please don’t go. i’m sorry if i scared you,” you say, feeling around for the creature and mourning its disappearance. “i won’t hurt you. come back…” two brilliant blue eyes open to watch you, quietly assessing whether you’re friend or foe.

hesitantly, almost shyly, the tentacle creeps back, searching out your arm. it curls between your fingers, a soft human hand. when you pull, a boy your age comes out from the darkness, covered in grime and cobwebs. you offer him your coat because he isn’t wearing anything, and it’s a cold autumn day. he blinks at you, one eye at a time. you ask him what his name is, but he doesn’t seem to have one. he doesn’t speak, but he understands you when he nods or shakes his head in response to some of your curious questions.

you bring him home, ask your parents if you can keep him. you’ve always wanted to live with a friend. your parents are horrified. “where did you find this boy?” they ask, wrapping him up in a blanket, hurrying to find clothes for him, prepare him some food, get him into the bath. “where are his parents?” you tell them he doesn’t have any—that’s what he told you, or that’s what you’re assuming. your parents think this boy might be lost. they decide to make missing posters for him, ask around the neighborhood, file reports. until someone claims him, he can stay.

you’re ecstatic, happily pulling him all throughout the house to show him around. “this is my room. this is my favorite plushie. you can’t have her, though. she sleeps with me. oh, but you can have this one! it’s an octopus. it’s blue like your eyes. take it.” his arms are full of things you’re giving him. expressionless, he allows you to bring him deeper into the weavings of your life. you share parts of yourself with him. you’re effortlessly kind. a warm presence. he decides he likes you.

later that night, while he sleeps curled on the floor in soft, sea-print pajamas, you dream of the shadow in the burrow. when you ask the darkness its name, it replies: azul.

no one comes forward with any information. days turn into months and then years. you grow up alongside each other. eventually azul learns to speak, to write, to do all the things you can do. his appetite is voracious. you used to giggle when he’d tear into his meals with both hands. it wasn’t until he learned how to feel shame, how to have manners, that he began to utilize his utensils, take small, mindful bites, tamp down his ravenous urges. you learn a lot about him when you sleep. you dream of that burrow a lot, about what resides in it.

he accompanies you to school. the children there make fun of him because he’s weird and different. not like the rest. because he blinks strangely and because he always smells like wet earth and because he acts funny and because he clings to you so much it’s codependent (“ooohh,” the bullies jeer, “(name)’s got a boooooyfriend!” and you fluster like it’s something to be ashamed of—like he’s something to be ashamed of). he wants them all dead, but before he can carry out a swift, spine-snapping execution you’re stopping him. “azul!” you shout, rushing over to him, heaving out great gasps. you’re crying. big globs of salt in your eyes. he can smell it, your fear, your sadness, your panic. very human scents. “stop! you can’t!”

he turns slowly. blood flecks his cheeks and knuckles from where he kicked and punched, from the stone he retrieved in the courtyard, its rough tip poised to gouge out an eye. the bullies look up at him in horror. it’s a different fear from yours. they’re terrified of him. you’re terrified for him.

it’s the first and final time he resorts to violence. the teachers give him an earful. your parents apologize profusely, insist he isn’t usually like this, are willing to compromise with the families of those rotten children, but then they don’t truly know azul. they’re going to make an effort to discipline him better, they say. he’s a good child. honest.

he sits outside the principal’s office, idly swinging his legs.

after that day, the bullies never mess with him again. after that day, he learns how to smile.

- - -

the years trickle by. azul has lived as a human so long that he’s forgotten what he really is. he’s not very strange anymore. he’s learned how to be mostly human, how to camouflage monstrosity with humanity. everything he knows, he’s learned from you.

he doesn’t know how old he is. when you were little, you said he could be your age. he looked it. you told him, “since you don’t know when your birthday is, you can share mine.” so every year that he’s spent with you, he’s aged just like you. the both of you are sixteen when he plants his lips on yours. you’re being naughty, sneakily watching an r18 film. he watches the actors as they wrap around each other. it’s more than an embrace. he asks you what that is, what it means, and you tell him it’s because they love each other. sex is what you do when you love someone.

so he kisses you. it’s just innocent curiosity, a peck that lasts a little too long. you fall backwards on the sofa, shocked, your fingers brushing your mouth, as if you can still feel him there.

“what…was that for?”

“love,” he replies. “isn’t that how it’s done?”

“do you love me, azul?”

“like the humans on TV?”

“that’s different. that’s…romantic. intimate. y-you know…”

he doesn’t.

“then what is this?” he points to his mouth and then yours. “what are we?”

“we’re friends.”

he feels it two years later, when you bring your first boyfriend home and it’s made abundantly clear what he is and what that boy is. he learns there is an important distinction between boyfriend and a boy who is a friend. he’s the latter.

he snoops through your laundry, searching for the ones that smell like that boy. you yell at him, fiercely embarrassed. you smell like him more and more every day. when he was little, he’d climb into your bed for warmth and you’d allow it. not so much anymore now. now you share your bed with another. you tell him he can’t just go through your things or snoop around your room, especially your laundry! it’s not right. he’s your friend. he’s like family to you. azul thinks all of these distinctions are so troublesome.

your boyfriend is troublesome.

- - -

he’s hungry. he needs to eat more to keep his energy up. the human doctors told him it’s because he’s growing. he needs something fleshy, though. he needs a pulsing heart between his teeth, warm, moist gore spattering his maw. he’s not sure what he’s doing when he stands over the mangled corpse on the side of the road, backdropped by towering trees. it’s an unlucky deer. freshly hit. he’s hungry.

so he eats.

azul feels whole when he’s with you, serene, like the world is one piece and all is well. he lies on the grass beside you, peering up at fluffy cumulus clouds. the sky is so blue. “are you going to marry him?” he asks suddenly, and you turn to look at him, utterly baffled.

“n-no way. i’m too young for marriage. b-besides, that’s something you do when you’re really in love.”

“then are you really in love with him?”

“i like him.” you prop yourself up on your elbow and poke his cheek. “we need to get you someone, zuzu. then you’ll understand.”

he highly doubts that.

years ago, he snuffed the violent tempest raging within him for calm seas. gentle. tender. humans like those traits. he wants to be an ideal human for you. it’s harder than he thought. lots of energy.

for you, he’ll do it.

for you, he’ll do anything.

- - -

he stands in the doorway, watching you like you’re one of the humans on TV. he remembers the movie. sex. that’s what you do when you love someone. you told him that. if you love him, why are you also loving someone else?

he still doesn’t understand the complexities of love. his thinking is black-and-white. animalistic instinct. logic that borders survival.

you’re horrified. you yank sheets up and over yourself and your boyfriend, squawk at him to get out, toss a pillow his way. it lands at his feet. he thinks fondly of throwing your boyfriend against the wall and listening to his skull crack.

he leaves. the door shuts behind him.

- - -

“if i was a monster, would you still like me?” he asked once, while you were relaxing on the beach. a vacation to a warmer place in the middle of winter. like migration.

“where’s this coming from?” you peek at him from over the mound of a sandcastle. he digs his feet into the grit, feels it cake between his toes.

“would you?” he presses, pushing deeper until a crab breaks the surface and skitters away. he tracks its frantic departure with his eyes.

“you’re not a monster.”

“but what if i was? pretend for just a moment.”

you stop patting the sand. the misshapen castle is on the verge of collapse. a quaint sea breeze blows between the both of you.

“i’ll always love you, azul. even if you’re a monster.”

“do you promise?”

“i promise.”

you smile at him, and the tension breaks. he allows you to bury his lower half in the sand.

did you mean it? he wants to ask every day after that one. will you really love me when i’m a monster?

- - -

there’s blood everywhere.

at first, you think a bear ripped your boyfriend apart. trampled the campsite and tore him from his tent, all while you were off gathering twigs and sticks for kindling. but it’s not a bear.

you have to choke back your vomit. the smell is so strong it sticks and cloys in your nostrils, on your person. the gruesome scene is burned onto your eyes, your brain. you’re never going to forget this.

there’s a monster in the middle of the campsite. a writhing mass of black. you dry heave; bile climbs up your throat, muffles your scream. you swallow it even though it burns.

the creature turns slowly. it’s…an octopus? you’re not sure what it is, but it’s reaching for you.

you think you should run. it’s going to come after you next. it’s going to kill you, tear you to pieces, feast on the meat of your corpse. it will be a painful death punctuated with sheer agony.

a tentacle wraps gently around your wrist. you’re brought back to that day in the woods, where you pulled a little boy out from his burrow. you remember the dreams, the voice, the shadow. you remember.

“you promised,” he says, and he sounds so hurt. so sad.

“azul…?”

he’s holding you with the only tentacle that isn’t stained red with blood. the only one that’s clean.

“do you love me?” he asks, and the answer sticks in your throat. your boyfriend is in tatters around you, and this creature—the one responsible—is asking if you love him.

you can’t speak, so instead you gather him in your arms and hug him tightly. he’s tense, afraid. you cling to him so he won’t run away.

“of course i do,” you say around a heartbroken sob. you’re also scared and he knows this, but still you show him kindness. you’ve always been so forgiving. “i will always love you. i don’t care what you are. you’re my azul.”

feebly, not wanting to hurt you, he wraps himself around you, every cold, sticky limb. he anchors himself to your warmth just like he did the first day you met.

love is a beautiful, confounding feeling. but for the moment he thinks he understands it.

my azul.

he couldn’t be anything else.

[mcu-binge]

Jealous || Clark Kent x reader ||

Pairing : Clark Kent x reader Word count : ~1590

Summary : When Clark’s past with Lois stirs up jealousy and pain, you retreat into silence and hot bathwater, unsure how to let him back in. But when he shows up gentle, soaked in guilt, and ready to strip himself of every layer just to hold you. you realize love sometimes speaks loudest in the quiet.

Tags/warnings : jealousy, envy, insecure reader, sweet!Clark

===================================

The image kept playing in my head like some low-budget, heart-stabbing rerun.

Her leaning over his desk.

That stupid, smug tilt of her hips.

The way her hand landed just a little too close to his tie.

And Clark? Just… sitting there. Not leaning away. Not flinching. Just watching her with that dumb, soft smile like she was interesting.

I knew what it looked like. I knew he probably didn’t even register it, Clark, the world’s most oblivious man when it comes to flirting, but still. Still.

So when he texted me during work “Dinner at your place? I’ll bring Thai.” I ignored it.

I didn’t talk to him for the rest of the day.

Not really.

I answered his questions with clipped, professional tones. I didn’t laugh at his awkward jokes during the afternoon meeting. I sat three seats away at lunch. When he brought me coffee, I left it untouched on my desk until it went cold. And when we clocked out, I didn’t wait for him to walk me home.

I needed space. And a wall. And maybe a little bit of time to cry in the bathtub without it meaning something bigger than it was. Because I knew. I knew Clark had a life before me. A love before me. And that love had her name stamped all over the building. Lois Lane. Star reporter. The ex who knew his secret. The one Perry, of all people, still mentioned with a nostalgic glint in his eye.

I was just the new girl. The quiet one. The one still learning to hold her own in meetings. Still blending into the wallpaper.

Clark said I was different. That what we had was new and real and his. But watching that woman lean over his desk like it belonged to her? Watching him let her?

Yeah. That stuck.

The water in my tub was lukewarm now, but I didn’t move. I let it cradle me, arms floating, the citrus and eucalyptus bath salts gone dull. My eyes were on the ceiling. I hadn’t turned on music, hadn’t lit a candle. Just quiet. So goddamn quiet.

I didn’t cry. That would’ve made this too cliché.

I was too mad for tears anyway.

“Sweetheart?”

I didn’t answer. I didn’t even flinch. Just sank lower into the water, bubbles clinging to my shoulders, jaw tight.

I heard the shuffle of his shoes come off. The pause, like he was taking stock of the silence. Then his voice, closer “I know you’re home. Your coat’s on the chair.” Acting like he can see me through the door but I think he’s trying to be modest.

God, he was infuriating. Always so calm, even when I didn’t want him to be. Even when I wanted a fight, or a sobbing apology, or a slamming door, anything that would match the storm that had been crawling up my throat since 3:42 p.m.

The bathroom door creaked open just enough for his voice to slip through.

“You’re mad.”

Brilliant deduction, Kent.

Still, nothing from me.

He sighed. “Okay. I deserve that.”

There was a pause, then the door opened wider. I didn’t turn. I kept my eyes on the same crack in the ceiling tile. He stood in the doorway like a man approaching a wild animal, gentle, uncertain.

“You’re in the bath,” he said softly.

“Look at that. He can observe.”

He winced at the sharpness in my voice but didn’t back away. “Can I sit?”

I shrugged. “Free country.”

He settled onto the tiled floor beside the tub, long legs stretching out. His dress shirt was still half-tucked, tie loosened, hair a little messy like he’d been running his hands through it since I left the office.

“You’ve been quiet,” he said after a long beat.

“So have you. When you weren’t giggling with Lois.”

His head tilted. “I wasn’t giggling.”

“Oh right, I’m sorry,” I said dryly. “Chortling.”

He exhaled through his nose. “You’re upset because I talked to my friend?”

“I’m upset because I watched you fall into your old patterns like you never left them. Like I wasn’t even there.”

Clark leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “She’s not—she wasn’t—” he stammers.

“But she was.” I finally turned to look at him. My arms folded over my chest, bubbles sliding down my skin. “You were in love with her. Everyone knows it. And the way you looked at her today….don’t lie to me, Clark. Please don’t.”

He swallowed. Hard. “I wasn’t looking at her the way you think.”

“No?”

He shifted closer, voice quieter now. “I was looking at someone who knew me before I knew how to love someone the right way. That’s it. No spark. No confusion. I love you. Not because you’re safer or newer or easier or whatever your mind is telling you, but because every part of me wants to choose you every day, even when you’re being impossible.”

I looked away.

“You didn’t look like you were choosing me today,” I whispered.

“I didn’t think I had to prove it at work,” he said. “I didn’t think I had to draw a line in the sand between my past and you.”

“Maybe I needed to see one.”

He was quiet for a moment. Then stood. Walked toward the sink. His reflection met mine in the mirror above the tub.

Slowly, he pulled off his tie, then unbuttoned his shirt with deliberate ease, sleeves rolling up, collar dropping open. He wasn’t trying to seduce me. He was trying to level the playing field. He takes his glasses off setting them down by the sink.

“I don’t want Lois,” he said. “I want you. And I don’t care if it’s public or private or written in skywriting. I’ll tell anyone who needs to know.” He stepped closer, kneeling again beside the tub. His eyes locked with mine.

“I love you,” he said, voice breaking a little. “And it’s not going to feel like that every second of every day. Sometimes I’ll mess up in bound to. But I won’t stop trying to show you.”

I bit my lip, hard.

He reached over, fingers brushing my cheek.

“I didn’t know you were hurting. I should’ve. That’s on me.” Silence. Thick and wet and heavy between us.

Then finally, I reached out. Just a little. Just enough for my fingertips to brush his wrist.

His eyes closed in quiet relief.

“I hate that I love you this much,” I whispered.

“I know,” he murmured, leaning down to press his forehead to mine. “It’s awful.”

I snorted.

Then, finally, let him kiss me. His lips felt like honey and an apology. The kiss broke, but his hand stayed on my cheek, warm, steady, grounding me in a way nothing else had all day. I sighed against his palm, the frustration loosening in my chest like a knot coming undone. Water lapped softly at the edge of the tub.

I turned away slightly, just enough to gather the courage to say what I wanted without looking him in the eyes.

“You can get in….”

Clark blinked, caught off guard. “You mean—”

“Not like that,” I added quickly, shaking my head. “Just… I don’t want to be mad at you anymore. And I don’t want to be alone here.”

His expression melted into something so tender I almost couldn’t look at it. He didn’t say anything, he just nodded.

He stood again, calmly, unhurried. I listened to the soft rustle of fabric behind me: the sound of his belt sliding out of the loops, the quiet unbuttoning, the careful folding of clothes because of course Clark Kent folds even in the middle of emotional fallout.

I shifted forward, making room.

The water rippled as he stepped in, slow and deliberate. He settled behind me, strong legs stretching to each side of mine, his chest warm against my back. His arms wrapped around me like a blanket, and I let myself lean fully into him.

We just breathed for a moment.

“This okay?” he asked softly, his voice vibrating against the nape of my neck.

I nodded, resting my head on his shoulder. “Yeah. This is… perfect.”

His fingers began to move across my shoulders. Not in a way that expected anything. Just slow, kneading circles. Gentle pressure on my shoulders. I exhaled deeper this time.

“I adore you, you know,” he murmured. “All of you. Even the part of you that hides in bathtubs and throws daggers with her eyes.”

A laugh bubbled up reluctant, but real.

“I’m serious,” he said, nudging my temple with his nose. “You’ve made me feel more human than anyone else ever has. Even when I’m wearing the suit, flying across the world… I’m thinking about you. About if you had your coffee, or if you left your cardigan at work again. About whether you’re mad at me for not texting back fast enough.”

I let my hand fall into the water, finding his thighs under the surface. I rub them underwater before giving them a squeeze.

“You’re kind of stupid sometimes,” I said, lips barely curving. “But you’re my favorite person in the world.”

“I’ll take that,” he whispered into my hair. “Every version of you. Even the prickly ones.”

His hands stop and wrap around me again. He kissed the shell of my ear, then rested his head against mine.

There was no need to say anything else. We just soaked there, in the aftermath of our storm wrapped in lukewarm water, tangled limbs, and all the quiet love we hadn’t known how to say until now.

[batsandbirdbrains]

Time for some slice of life Batfam from season 1 of yj

Inspired by discussions I’ve had with @snowrose3838

I want to see a fic where Bruce and Dick get together with Kate and Bette on Sundays for family dinner if they’re all free. I want to see Bruce and Kate gossiping about distant family members and theories they have on how so and so was actually her youngest sister’s secret mom, because she got pregnant when she wasn’t married and that was super taboo for the time period so the parents kept her home while she was pregnant then passed off their grandchild as their own little surprise baby even though their second youngest is 17 years older than the baby. I want them talking mad shit about a crazy uncle they had and how he got sent to Arkham and he killed a guy with a chair while they were both committed and it happened during some group therapy session, but he was already in Arkham, so it’s not like they could do anything else to detain him. I want Bette and Dick listening with their mouths hanging open because what the fuck is this family, it’s so insane. And that’s just the tip of the iceberg.

I want Bette to treat Dick like a slightly annoying little cousin, because even though he’s adopted, she’s known him since he was eight. They’re great friends and they get along, but now he’s thirteen, and thirteen year old boys are annoying as hell. I want her to make deals with him where he thinks it’s great because she’ll take him to the mall and he’ll get to hang out with her and her friends (and maybe he not-so-secretly has a crush on one of her friends, and so it’s like an extra reward that he’ll get to buy her a pretzel from Auntie Anne’s). What does she get out of the deal? No idea. Maybe he hacks the school system or something and changes a grade she got on an essay because she feels cheated that she got an 89.5% instead of a 90% and so if Dick can change it for her, she’ll bring him to the mall that weekend.

And if Bette ends up on the yj team at some point? I want her to show up to Mount Justice, a smirk on her face as she zeroes in on Robin.

“B grounded you? What for?”

And Dick is so annoyed because of course Bruce told Kate who told Bette who’s now telling everyone on the team that he’s grounded for two weeks.

“I may have,” he stresses, his shoulders tightening, “told a teacher to fuck off in a language I didn’t think she could speak. Allegedly.”

And Bette is laughing her ass off at him, because he’s so stupid and this is so damn funny to her.

“You still owe me a trip to the mall!” he shrieks at her. “Just because I can’t go this weekend doesn’t mean you don’t still owe me!”

“Fine, fine,” she says between laughs. “We’ll go when you’re un-grounded. God, you’re so stupid.”

“Hey!”

I want them to both wait outside of Gotham Academy because Alfred is picking them both up. I want Dick to complain in the car on the way home about his English teacher, and Bette gives him advice because she had the same teacher last year. I want Bette to be so proud of her little cousin, because he’s so smart that he skipped a grade, and she thinks he’s brilliant. I want Dick to think she’s super cool and so he’s always asking her fashion advice and things like that, because he wants to look cool like her.

I want them to hang out at galas, the two of them making fun of people like Lex Luthor. They’re both damn near bored to tears, but at least they can play more and more fucked up games of bingo that have squares like “Mr. Elliot gets so drunk he starts flirting with other women in front of his wife,” and “A guy tries to hit on Kate and it pisses her off so much she karate chops him in the throat when no one’s watching.” Bruce acting tipsy and putting on the Brucie act is their free space.

They both try to sneak a glass of champagne. More than once. Kate always catches them and snatches the glasses away before they can even take a sip.

When they get home, Kate lets them try champagne from the safety of Wayne manor, where no one can see them and put it in some trashy gossip column that the Wayne-Kane kids are rebellious no-good teenagers.

Idk I just want them being a family

[angelkiyo]

“LIKE THE MOVIES!” — H. HIGURUMA

⁀➴ syn: "but this is all that i am; i'll only show you the best of me" — hiromi higuruma pissed you off; his mere existence did. he’s stupidly smart, punctual, and has all the qualities of being a top future lawyer (even if he seems to have the emotional intelligence of a puddle); all the reason why you would do anything to be at the top of your shared political theory class. even if it means having to play romcom heroine with him. 

— pairing : poli-sci major! higuruma hiromi x poli-sci major! reader.

— tw + tags: 12k wc, a part of my 600 followers special :), very 'romcom'-esque, college! au + poli sci major! au, radiohead + ace attorney mentions, enemies to lovers, inexperienced! hiro, slow-burn, smut (creampie, riding, oral (f + m), fingering), angst if you squint, occasional grammar mistakes, glasses-swearing hiro, y/n is a d1 hater (keep this in mind), mainly fluff + soft smut (ᵔ⩊ᵔ)

“Liberty isn’t inherently owed,” Hiromi said, tapping his black pen against the mahogany of the table. “It’s a construct that is shaped and regulated by those in power and in turn, rewards control rather than fairness.”

Higuruma’s words echoed throughout the lecture hall— calm, precise, and annoyingly punctual. His tone was crisp and assertive; like listening to him was like listening to a future litigator.��

“To negotiate liberty through the lens of moral fairness is to assume that the system is built on fairness. However, it is designed to maintain hierarchy.”

You thought the pen you held was about to explode considering how tight you gripped it, your knuckles turning white. You didn’t even notice the way your jaw clenched at his words. 

It’s just that the fucker kept speaking like he knew everything. But that’s the thing. He wasn’t wrong—and that sole fact pissed you off to no avail.

Hiromi Higuruma is terrifyingly smart, top of your class, and seems to be practically allergic to human emotion. For the entire term, you don’t think you’ve ever seen him raise his voice or even laugh at anything, despite your professor’s occasional corny jokes that you can’t help but laugh out of sheer pity. 

He constantly gets praise and despite not having some courses together; always mentioned for being “brilliant” and “ahead of the curve”. 

He always came to lecture dressed like he had a deposition afterward. Ironed his clothes perfectly pressed, and his plain expression looked like he was bored with everything. 

That shit drove you absolutely insane.

Not to mention, that he simply seems conceited—cocky. He doesn’t greet anyone, and apparently during group presentations, he does his part and leaves everyone else scrambling. 

You hated vain people like that. Hated people that thought they were above others and acted that way.

“Interesting, Higuruma. Very interesting.” Your professor said, looking devastatingly bored. “Does anyone care to respond? Any commentary or inquiry?”

Suguru, your friend beside you, shot you a glance that was practically screaming “don’t do it”. 

Suguru, along with almost everyone in the class, were already aware of Higuruma’s antics. That is who he was known as: the know-it-all that always had his hand raised.

He was also aware of your disdain for the guy, how he aggravated you with his constant raise of the hand and refusal for human interaction in the hallways. 

To be fair, he didn’t even want to take the class but had to as a philosophy major. However, that isn’t to say he didn’t find your one-sided beef with the guy not entertaining. 

“Y/N. Don’t,” he whispered.

Too late.

You already raised your hand with a prissy little smile etched on your face. 

You’ve had enough. 

Maybe it was the fact that you woke up late, got your coffee order done wrong, and the fact that you lost your train card. But you weren’t about to deal with Higuruma getting the last word like always.

You didn't back down. And you didn't want to.

“Yes,” you said, clear and cool. “With respect, Higuruma’s argument assumes that liberty is transactional—that it is something handed down or withheld depending on someone’s access to institutional power, is not liberty’s fault rather those systems.”

You noted the way Higuruma turned to look at you from the front of the lecture hall. He didn’t even look at you with disdain rather interest. His gaze towards you lacked the usual judgement it had when someone said something stupid or redundant during class and his eyebrows were pinched together. 

He was listening intently to what you were saying.

“Rousseau would argue that liberty must exist independently from power structures and when it doesn’t, that just means the social contract is broken—not that liberty itself is just leverage. Then that means, we risk reducing liberty to a tool of oppression rather than a foundational principle worth reclaiming.“

You could hear Suguru’s slight chuckle at your words, challenging Mister ‘Definitely-Going-To-A-Top-10-Law-School’. He looked at the rest of the class to notice that everyone was looking at you—and how could they not? 

You were the first person to really challenge something “the genius of the class” said. And you kind of had a point with your words? 

Oh, how could you. How utterly preposterous.

You shot your professor and Higuruma a smile. Higuruma tilted his head towards you almost innocently. Like he wasn’t aware that your words were dripping with malice and opposition. 

One to nothing, bitch.

Your professor went back to pacing and his expression ceased from looking bored. “You have a point, Miss L/N. Very valid challenge to Mister Higuruma and his commentary. Now back to page 466…”

Suguru snickered as he tapped his pen on the table. “That is probably the first time in the semester that someone’s gone up against him during lecture time. Nice going, Y/N.”

“Yeah. No thanks to you,” you sneered. 

However, you never thought that you would really interact with Hiromi Higuruma again after that. He was a prissy know-it-all with his personality depth equivalent to white-out, and you purposefully avoided him even before all of this. Even so, he had his own pretentious clique of future law school students in his work study and internship. 

To be fair, the only moments you did was the occasional disagreement in class after the first time, however that itself was rare.

But here you were, emailed a few weeks later regarding your selection to the prestigious school journal for the political science column—and being paired with that fucker. 

The universe—or rather your professor—must hate you.

“Congratulations! You have been selected by the Liberal Arts department to co-author the semester's Political Science journal piece. The assigned topic is Civil Liberties in Post-Democratic Systems, and the writers will be Y/N L/N and…Hiromi Higuruma.”

You tapped on your phone in disdain when you finished reading the email. “No fucking way. I just got asked to write something for the Political Science journal piece for the LAS department,” you scoffed. 

The setting you were at was pretty loud, dimly lit, and typical for a Friday at your campus bar. You were already a few drinks in when you got the notification alerting you of the dreaded, fucking email. 

You took a dramatic swig of your little cocktail and placed it on the table. “Now. You three are smart—to some extent. Tell me why I, such an incredible and smart person, am being punished like this.”

Suguru raised an amused eyebrow at your reaction and laughed. “You literally got into the most competitive writing fellowship on campus and you’re calling it punishment? God, you’re dramatic.”

Shoko nodded, taking a drag of her cigarette. “Girl, are you drunk already?”

You frowned and unlocked your phone to show them the email. Satoru took your phone dramatically and cleared his voice like he was reciting a Shakespearean poem at a slam poetry event. 

“Congratulations, Miss Y/N. Yada yada blah blah. Selected for Civil Liberties…Writers will be…Oh that’s crazy.”

His jaw dropped and he covered his mouth to stifle his laugh. “Are you deadass? You’re stuck with Hiromi Higuruma of all people? No fuckin’ way.”

You groaned, covering your face and hitting your phone on your forehead in an attempt to look dramatic. “The emotionally unavailable nerd with a damn superiority complex who pretends nothing affects him? Yeah, that guy.”

“Awh. I’m sorry, Y/N-ie,” Suguru said, mock sympathy dripping from his words. 

Satoru’s eyebrow quirked up. “The same Higuruma in your Social Justice 201 class who made Yuki cry? Didn’t he say she ‘didn’t belong in the class’ over a misunderstanding?”

Shoko laughed. “Oh my god. I remember when you told me the story about him submitting an entire paper with case citations for a damn theory class? God, I’m not in liberal arts but that sounds insane. He’s already quite the character in our stats class. Right, Satoru?”

Satoru laughed and nodded.

You sighed. “Yeah. Unless there’s another guy with the same name and personality.” You paused to take another swig of your beverage and shrugged. “I hate that I know what cases he used too. Choso, our TA told me. Fuck, I don’t think I’ve ever met someone who makes me feel both stupid and weirdly attracted at the same time.”

The three of your friends went silent before Satoru let out a giggle. You didn’t even catch what you said out loud until Satoru spoke to call you out.

“So…you’re sayin’ you’re into him?”

You flicked Satoru’s forehead and frowned. “No. I’m not into him, I’m into winning. I’m into being the first in that class because I need a recommendation letter from that professor.”

“Wouldn’t you just need a good relationship with the teacher to do so?” Shoko asked.

You shook your head. “No. He’s putting a cap for 3 recommendation letters—a.k.a, the top person in each of the classes he teaches.”

Shoko nodded. “Gotcha. So you’re into leverage?”

You nodded. “Exactly. I’m gonna destroy him and beat his ass at his own game. I’m gonna make him so irritated that he’ll drop out of the journal and it’s gonna be all me.”

“Or…” Satoru said, swirling his drink.

“Oh no.”

“You seduce him.” He said, deadpan.

“From all the shit you’ve ever said, Satoru,” Shoko laughed. “This might be the smartest yet most stupid idea you’ve ever come up with.”

You frowned. “You too? God, what the hell is this? 10 Things I Hate About You? How To Lose A Guy In 10 Days?”

They nodded. 

Satoru giggled. “No, this would be ‘10 Objections On How To Seduce A Poli Sci Student’ or I don’t know. Whatever legal jargon you future lawyers use.”

“Think about it,” Suguru said, taking a drag of his cigarette. “These idiots aren’t wrong and imagine if he did fall for you. This might surprise you to know, but I know some of his ‘friends’ and overheard them talk about his type.”

“His type?” Your eyes narrowed at him. Hiromi Higuruma has friends? He has an ideal type?

Suguru nodded and dabbed some of the ash onto the little ashtray beside him. “Mhm. He’s into those political science girls. And oh my God! Look! You major in that! Well, what a coincidence.”

You snorted. “Uh huh, tough shit. I’m not seducing the human equivalent of a gavel. He’s like, very Miles Edgeworth in real life—and not in a good way. In a bad way. Very.”

“But, you could.” Satoru grinned. “You’ve got that face card, the brains, and ability to say those weird Latin legal terms without brutally mispronouncing them. He wouldn’t stand a damn chance.” 

“I don’t even know if the guy has feelings,” you said meekly. “What if he’s like…Gee, I don’t know? Not interested in dating? I’ve never heard of him ever dating anyone…He probably gets absolutely no bitches.”

You then shrugged. “Besides, he’s not my type. I’m not into over-the-top bastards who have an ego the size of the Tokyo Tower.”

Your eyes widened at Satoru letting out the biggest cackle of the night, his face practically turning red like you said the funniest thing ever. “Are you serious? Let’s be honest, your type is shit. Higuruma is a much better option in comparison to the other two guys you’ve dated: stupid and utterly incompetent.”

He had a point…

“You’ve got nothing to lose, Y/N.” Shoko said. “Let’s make a bet.”

You felt your stomach drop at what she said and feared for the worst. “Uh huh. What type of bet are you trying to make?”

She leaned in and put her hand on your shoulder mockingly. “You make Hiromi Higuruma—Mister Top-of-the-Class—fall for you by the end of the semester. We’ll give you 400 bucks from all of us.”

Suguru shrugged. “I catch him taking a little look at you occasionally. A little here and there. You’re like practically a quarter to making him fold.”

Satoru snickered at your reaction. “Awh, this is so like the movies.”

You scoffed at the proposition and at the shitty nicknames given to the guy. “He looks at everyone like he’s about to cross-examine them. Don’t start with that bullshit.”

“That’s what makes it fun,” Suguru said.

“Let’s raise the stakes a bit, then.” Satoru raised his finger like a little kid attempting to call the teacher’s attention and cleared his throat. 

“Father dearest is planning to hire some undergrad student shadows for the legal department at our humble family finance group.”

You froze. “Are you suggesting…Corporate law experience..?”

While Satoru pretends to be “dumb”, he comes from the Gojo financial conglomerate. He’s the epitome of being a “daddy’s money” “trust fund” baby.

He smiled. “Precisely. It’s paid, prestigious according to some accounts, and exclusive, according to my uncle. But you already have me.”

“And if I lose..?”

Shoko shot you a saccharine smile. “You do our stats homework for the rest of the semester. All of it.”

You frowned, weighing the options of attention from your potential-future legal peers to stats homework. You hate that class. It was too annoying.

Higuruma’s face flashed in your mind for a second; his stupid thin wire-frame glasses and that stupid fucking face he makes when someone says something obviously dumb in class. His cocky demeanor also came to mind, making you frown.

You let out a deep exhale. “Fine, but when I succeed—and trust me, I will—I expect all of you to kneel to me during graduation.”

They smiled. 

“You’ve got it.”

                              ──────────────────── 

When you entered, the library smelled like old parchment, the smell of wood polish, and the presumably tears of first year students getting through finals. The sun gleamed over the area of the library from the large windows overlooking the rest of campus.

You glanced at your wristwatch and looked at the time, it being 4:25 in the afternoon. 

You had emailed Higuruma during your stats class to meet when the afternoon lecture was done at the library at 4:35.

The window seat with the two outlets was bare and you decided to station there while waiting for him. 

You placed your things and were finally starting to accommodate yourself and establish your amazing intellectual dominance with your long and cluttered notes. You typed away on a starting document, sharing him on it and sipping on your sadly overpriced matcha from the cafe by campus.

However, just when you were starting to find a bit of solace in your typing and rich matcha, you felt a shift and heard the doors clash open rather dramatically.

He was here.

Your eyes shifted in front of you, where you spotted Hiromi walking towards you—walking like he just walked out of a courtroom where his client was just fucking sentenced to death. 

Yeah, that type of ominous and serious presence.

He was dressed in a dark grey turtleneck, dark colored slacks, and some expensive looking, black leather loafers from the looks of it. And worst of all, he had his stupid little leather satchel that screamed ‘future pretentious law student’.

He looked like he jumped out of The Secret History; dark academia aesthetic and all.

“L/N,” he said, acknowledging you while he set his things down across from you on the table. 

“Higuruma,” you replied, not looking up from your laptop in fear of looking him in the eye. 

A little beat of silence passed amongst the two of you where he spoke—the same pretentious authority he usually spoke with. “I didn’t expect you to be early.”

“I didn’t expect you to show up at all, quite frankly,” you muttered, taking a sip of your matcha before realizing you actually said that out loud. 

You weren’t wrong when saying that. Amongst your peers in your Political Theory class, Higuruma had quite the reputation for being neglectful to his peers when it came to group projects, or so you’ve heard.

“May I look at these?” You felt relief that he ignored your stupid little quip and you nodded, sliding your notes from class over to him. 

You felt your face get warm and looked up to see him already reading your notes; he was taking out a legal pad and fucking Levenger fountain pens. His stupid expression was neutral but focused—analysing your notes. 

How annoying.

“So, I thought we could start with outlining the major arguments and split the sections based on the scope,” he said bluntly. Despite Higuruma being your age, you felt like you were speaking to one of your professors due to his demeanor; even more the reason to mess with him.

“No foreplay?” Your voice sounded more deadpanned than usual, which wasn’t on purpose. It slipped out, but it proved useful when it came to being the cause for Higuruma’s expression to be anything but a stone-cold one.

His expression faltered and his eyebrow twitched; the pen he was holding had its ink bleeding through the pages of his legal pad while he appeared to be thinking on what to say to your interesting choice of words.

He cleared his throat awkwardly. “...Excuse me?”

You shot him a smile: sweet and extremely fake. “Metaphorically, I meant. I was thinking of starting with a basic thesis breakdown before jumping into the actual structure of what we were going to discuss—before we get too far ahead of ourselves. Then, obviously, construct our abstract of the paper so execution can go smoothly.”

He stared at you blankly—like he didn’t know what to say again, before returning to his own notes and placing yours back to your side of the table. “Your choice of metaphor is quite…strange.”

You kissed your teeth and nodded. “Yup. I get that a lot. What can I say?”

Hiromi paused and glanced up at you, his gaze lingering a bit longer than expected for someone like him—like he was almost examining your face? You felt like a witness in court being cross-examined.

Your eyebrow raised. “Problem, Higuruma?”

“No…” he said, leaning his head onto his wrist. “Just confirming that you’re as unconventional as everyone says…”

Your smirk faltered and you leaned back in your chair. So the little shit talks bad about you?

“That sounds like gossip. Didn’t take you for the type to indulge in that, Higuruma.” His expression was rather plain as his eyes were glued onto his screen as he wrote some things down in his legal pad.

“I’m not,” he said simply. “But your name has come up before.”

You blinked. 

What the fuck? So he does talk shit? Is this karma for talking shit about him? You’re not even pretentious like him? He’s full of shit.

You scoffed. “The hell does that mean?”

Higuruma didn’t answer, rather just turned his folder and passed you a printed outline of a running bibliography with disgustingly clean formatting of his APA citations and the precis on what he wrote. They were color coded by ideology and in alphabetical order with a key up top.

Fucking show-off.

You narrowed your eyes at him and scoffed a bit. You had barely gotten the email two days prior and he had a running bib that was 7 pages long front and back. 

“You do realize that this is just a student journal piece, right? Not the damn Yale Law Review?”

He didn’t react, but instead, continued looking over his notes and typing some notes on his MacBook. “If you are going to write about something like post-democratic systems, it’s better to be precise and do it properly.”

You rolled your eyes at his stiff response and took the outline he placed on the table. From your peripheral, you noted how his eyes went to you and how he watched you do it.

You couldn’t help but admire the organization—how neat, logical, and useful it was. 

It was, unfortunately, useful and easy to work with.

“Okay,” you began. “I’ll take the opening section of the paper and look at Hobbes and Rousseau—some basics and classic theory. You can take modern structures. So like Hayek, Schmitt, and all that constitutionalism you obsess over during lecture.” You said the last part rather low in hopes that he wouldn’t hear you.

You looked up to see his expression and his lips twitched upward; he almost cracked a smile. Almost. 

“Fair.”

His tone was plain like always, but with a twinge of something else. 

Your eyes widened a bit. “You didn’t argue.”

“Yeah,” he said. “I was hoping you would tell me about the structure. It helps me really look at what you’re good at so we could work together accordingly.”

What? He was waiting for you to announce who took what? And he thinks you're good at it? Isn’t he just a prick who doesn’t take that into consideration? 

Maybe he thinks you’re competent. You both were chosen and recommended by a professor. But he just admitted to talking shit about you? 

Or maybe Higuruma just doesn’t know how to word ‘I think you’re so awesome and deserve the first spot’ properly.

His comment caught you off guard and you looked at him for a moment, his eyes already on you. 

“Careful, Higuruma. I could mistake that for a compliment.”

“I know.”

You stared at him and maintained eye contact before you dropped your gaze back to your laptop and began using the running bib he had given you for some reference. It was a mix of some classic theories from class up to some other commentaries from different professors about this topic from other universities. 

But he almost complimented you?!

Shady fucking bastard.

Minutes passed and he didn’t joke, flirt, nor comment. But you felt on edge, like if you breathed too heavily, he could say something. However, you maintained your rhythm, not speaking a word until you were kicked out of the library and you ended your meeting with a simple ‘bye, see you next class’. 

He was rather dry and had you on the edge of your seat, and you hated that with a passion.

                              ────────────────────

You felt like the sun was going to blind you. It was rather chilly outside and perfect for sweater weather. 

The lecture hall for your Political Inquiry class was still locked and you waited outside, leaning against the ivy-ridden, red brick wall of the building, looking at your surroundings. Your gaze followed the occasional cyclist and jogger who went by the trail in front of you. 

You felt your eyes close and you let out a deep exhale. The thought of what happened yesterday left you anticipating—for what? You didn’t know. 

You never had the chance to properly digest the fact you actually interacted with Higuruma alone. Maybe it was overthinking but, you couldn’t help but feel rather weird about it. Despite the initial joking with your friends, in hindsight, you didn’t know how to feel.

It wasn’t an unpleasant encounter, despite his unexpected quips here and there. Maybe you could work with him. But what about the bet? You needed that recommendation letter.

“L/N?” Your eyes flickered to the ground, meeting the sight of black leather loafers in front of you. You looked up to see Higuruma, pushing his wire glasses up the bridge of his nose and carrying a textbook. “What are you doing out here?”

“I–I mean…lecture?” You stammered, feeling your face warm for no reason. “Why? The lecture hall is closed and—”

“Didn’t you catch the email? Our professor wanted to meet in the library. I was just passing by to go.” His tone wasn’t mean but dry��clinical and superficial. Like you were another stupid classmate who didn’t know the difference between political ideals.

You narrowed your eyes at him, his expression plain. “I…didn’t know. Thanks, I guess, for letting me know. Unless you’re joking with me.”

He shook his head. “I’m not.”

You kissed your teeth and nodded. “Alright.”

You began walking down the trail and noticed how he walked beside you. The creeping heat in your cheeks returned and you felt like you couldn’t speak. 

He walked with such authority, like he was headed to a courtroom. And he smelled good—maybe cedarwood? You reached in your sweater’s pocket and pulled out your AirPods to cancel out the silence.

“What do you have so far for the paper?”

Your eyebrows raised and you hesitated. “I have a good 4 paragraphs done so far, but I’m definitely going to revise it when I get back. I’m definitely gonna add some structuralist angles and Rousseau. Then it would be much more intuitive.”

You noticed the manner in which his brow twitched. He hummed in acknowledgment to your words before he spoke up. 

“You write very…defensively,” he said looking at you sideways. “It’s not bad.”

You frowned. “Gee, thanks.”

“I’m not trying to offend you. It means you’re smart in your own way.”

You fought off a smile. “Is that…a compliment?”

“An observation.” His tone was flat, forcing you to laugh out of pure awkwardness. “You’re quoting? Correct?”

You snorted. “Of course. This isn’t a damn Buzzfeed article.”

Then you saw how the corners of his mouth twitched like he was going to smile at your quip. “That’s…fair.”

You took out your AirPod from your ear and placed it in the case snug in your pocket as you walked. Maybe he wasn’t as unbearable as always. 

“You said you’re starting with Hobbes, right?”

“Mhm. Framework-wise and then I’ll tie it all together. You?”

He nodded. “Well, I’m building off that with Hayek and market structure in constitutional states.”

You blinked. “That’s…not what I expected.”

“What did you expect?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess something more cutthroat. That’s how you are in class anyway…”

“So are you,” he shot back plainly. Like his words were so normal in the context of who he was. 

You stopped walking for a moment, your eyebrows furrowed while your mouth was agape at his bluntness. “Excuse me?”

“Well, I haven’t not noticed the fact that you’re the only person in our Political Theory who has had something to say to my commentary. I’m pretty sure everyone else doesn’t even care to be there.”

You felt your ego rise and a twinge of disbelief. Since when was he so direct? 

“Right…so you remember what I said?”

“It wasn’t a bad argument.”

“Uh huh…I’m honored.”

The sound of your sneakers clashed with the sound of his sleek loafers on the pavement and before you knew it, Higuruma had tapped you on the shoulder, phone in hand. 

“Would it be alright if I got your number?”

Your eyebrows furrowed at his words and he noticed. “Excuse me?” 

He blinked profusely and motioned his hands awkwardly. “Strictly for coordination. Email would be too tedious, especially with our course load. This would be the most convenient for the both of us.”

You hesitated for a moment before taking it. “Sure. But if you send me a meme at 2 in the morning about international politics, consider yourself blocked.”

A slight twinge of a smile graced his face before he nodded. “Noted.”

You smirked and shoved the AirPod back in your ear as the two of you walked again in peaceful silence to your lecture.

                                ──────────────────── 

“What do you think of the edits so far?” 

Higuruma is a punctual man, you were already aware of that. So much so that he established a schedule to meet twice a week every week for the next month and a half or so. 

That’s how you found yourself constantly leaving to the library once the afternoon lecture was over. And how you found yourself currently revising his part of the paper on his couch. The library was currently under renovations so you felt a bit surprised that Higuruma waited for you outside your stats class to “walk over to his place” to revise the paper. 

He had said it in such a calm and casual voice that you didn’t think anything of it. That was until you actually were in front of his apartment door, waiting for him to unlock it and enter. 

You were in your academic rival’s apartment. Alone. With him.

This was the last time you were going to revise this since the term was almost over. All that was left was submitting the piece and your final.

The actual apartment wasn’t as cold and scary as you thought. You spotted some pictures of him with his parents and what appeared to be a little novelty figure of a chess rook on a table. His apartment was also littered with bookshelves that were aesthetically organized and it was nice. 

Not what you thought.

You held your red pen and printed copy of your piece tightly, analyzing the structuring of his paragraphs while he did the same to yours. 

“For your Rousseau part,” he started,  “it needs a bit of restructuring. He sounds like he contradicts himself when speaking about natural liberty and civil liberty. The transition is too abrupt. Change it. Other than that, your argument is fairly strong and good.”

You narrowed your eyes at him from across the couch despite the twinge in your heart from his clear compliment about your writing. The two of you had been making final revisions for hours and you yawned, ignoring his commentary.

“Hiromi. Do you ever just turn it off? Like in your little robot mind, is there a button that changes from ‘stoic law academic’ to ‘still stoic young man that—shit, I don’t know—rambles on Twitter about the difference between DC and Marvel and that Invincible comic.”

His lips curved to a slight smile. “To do that, I’d need to be on social media constantly in the first place.”

You snorted. “Oh right. God forbid you don’t have the masses begging to access a piece of your intricate little mind.”

“You seem to have access just fine.”

You glared at him to which he looked at you deadpanned and covered his face with the printed paper he held. His ears were pink.

That was something in your mind too when it came to Higuruma, it was like a switch flipped.

When you had first met with him to look at the paper in the library, he was simply stoic and quite dense, dressed like he was to go to a courtroom after your meeting. But now, he still dressed like a pretentious law student, but he almost seemed like he was getting more casual. 

His attire shifted from Oxfords to casual sneakers and from his knit sweaters and cardigans to sweatshirts from your college and such.

He was less blunt and ‘old man’ when he spoke to you. 

He actually sounded like someone in your age range rather than an 80 year old professor on his 5th divorce (a.k.a, your current Political Theory professor). His tone shifted from completely academic to more human.

You had even started calling each other by your first names. 

Truth be told, you’ve gotten quite comfortable with him.

You looked over to check the time on your phone, it being around 8:50.

“We’re probably gonna be here for a while. The librarian isn’t here to kick us out and it’s the weekend tomorrow,” you said, yawning. “Let’s get some caffeine. I saw a coffee shop by here. Let’s go.”

To your surprise, Hiromi didn’t seem bothered by it. He hummed in agreement and nodded. 

He got up from the carpet and stretched. “Okay. Let me get my wallet and keys.”

You didn’t know why, but you felt your heart slightly flutter at the sound of his raspy voice. Even more so when you accidentally looked at him while he stretched and got the view of his toned lower stomach as his sweater lifted. 

It’s not like his outfit was anything out of the ordinary either; he wore his regular old purple sweatshirt and regular old jeans—however, it did look good on him.

God, you felt like a 19th century prude.

“Are you okay, Y/N?” Hiromi looked at you concerned, keys and wallet in hand as he was putting on his shoes by the door of his apartment. You were still on the couch, head against your wrist and daydreaming.

You felt your face get warm and nodded profusely, grabbing your own wallet beside your phone on the coffee table and putting on your own shoes. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

The apartment complex he lived in was rather quaint, taking a good 3 minutes to get to the ground level from the emergency stairs. The cafe itself was also quite a short distance—only being some 4 blocks away. It seemed familiar but maybe it was because you were familiar with the area already.

The smell of coffee beans and lavender hit you while the two of you went over to the barista taking orders. 

“What can I get you two?” They asked, to which Hiromi answered. 

“May I get a medium black coffee and a small iced matcha with brown sugar?”

“15.98, please.” 

He handed the barista his card and waited for the transaction to pass where you then found yourself waiting for the order with him by the pick-up area. 

It was so quick, you didn’t know what to say.

“You remembered my order? I must be spending too much time with you,” you joked. “You didn’t have to pay. I could have.”

He didn’t say anything and you just went on your phone to see what games you could play while you waited. You felt a strange feeling at the fact that he remembered your order; so mundane and small yet…it left you with a weird feeling. You just couldn’t explain what it was.

Maybe it was courtesy on his behalf. You didn’t know—just that it felt unorthodox.

You placed an AirPod in your ear while waiting for the order to be completed, scrolling through your playlists. The cafe was littered with college students in presumably similar situations to finish their own individual papers. 

You whispered the lyrics of the song you listened to and then noticed Hiromi moving a bit to look at you, specifically looking at the AirPod peeking through your hair. 

“What is it today?” He inquired, making note of your habit of listening to your AirPods when you weren’t speaking in public. 

“Oh. It’s The Smiths.”

Hiromi nodded slowly before he said something that nearly shook you to your core. “May I?”

You blinked slightly at his words. 

Never did you think someone like Hiromi Higuruma—the person you were in such a weird frenemy-ship with, would ask for an AirPod of all things. Something so mundane yet so…intimate?

“You want one?”

He didn’t verbally respond, rather extended his hand towards you. You looked at his blank face then at his hand—big, calloused—and took out your AirPod case to which you gave him the left one and placed it on his palm. 

He gently tucked it into his ear and listened to the music resuming for the both of you. It played a song off The Smiths’s The Queen Is Dead album—one of your favorites. You looked over to see Hiromi, slightly nodding his head to it. 

It was calm and gentle. You felt oddly at peace with the man you nearly professed your hatred to at your first meeting. 

You really were calm, really. But then—

“You bitch!” 

Holy shit, you thought your heart was about to jump out of your chest. 

You turned around to see lo and behold, your best friends Satoru, Shoko, and Suguru appeared out of thin air. In the fucking flesh. In the cafe right by Hiromi’s apartment.  

No wonder it felt so familiar. Those three idiots lived nearby.

“No fucking way,” you muttered. 

Hiromi looked confused and opened his mouth to say something until he noticed your order was ready and walked over to get it, where your triple threat set of friends walked over to you. Except from what you can tell, Suguru was missing.

“You’re such a slut.” Satoru said mockingly, pointing at your outfit up and down while giggling like a damn moron. 

“Oh shut it.” You sneered. He was right to note your outfit—but you swear it wasn’t to seduce Hiromi. Not in the slightest. The most it did was showcase cleavage.

“Tomorrow’s laundry day, you idiots.” You heard Hiromi cough from beside you, covering his face as he turned around with Suguru beside him.

You felt on edge considering their expressions; with Suguru having a smile while Hiromi looked rather contemplative.

Shoko snickered. “It’s okay, girl.”

“Well, Satoru, Shoko, we should leave these two on their date. Wouldn’t wanna interrupt.” Suguru said, a sly smile playing on his lips. 

“Study break,” you corrected, feeling your face become flushed and warm. 

Hiromi nodded and you noticed the way that your friends smiled at each other and exchanged knowing glances.

His face was turning pink.

“Okay then. Bye, Y/N. Bye, Higuruma. Have fun.” Satoru called out. Rather ominously. 

You eyed the three of them as they left the cafe and waved at you from the window. 

God, they are so insufferable.

“Are those your friends?” Hiromi quietly asked, leaning over to see if he could still spot your friends. His hand was awkwardly placed near his face where it was slightly covered.

“Unfortunately,” you said with an annoyed smirk. “I swear that their combined IQ is the equivalent of a carrot’s.”

You heard him let out a slight chuckle. “Gotcha.”

He handed you your drink and the both of you walked over to leave the cafe after that strange encounter. You still were sharing your AirPods with him and the melody of a Radiohead song filled the silence. 

You glanced over to him, who was sipping his coffee rather calmly. You felt the tension and disdain for him slowly disappear and you walked in peace. Then, you turned to him with a teasing smile and asked, “So…what do you think of my lovely friends?”

Hiromi’s lips twitched to a slight smirk. “I recognize Ieiri and Gojo from my statistics class. Then, we have Geto in our political theory class and he’s also in my public speaking class. They seem alright. We don’t really speak.”

You hummed and nodded. “Right.”

He looked over at you and cleared his throat a bit, noticing the song transition. “What song is this?”

You checked your phone and showed him the screen— the title “High and Dry” appearing beneath The Bends album cover plastered on the home screen.

He nodded. “It’s good. The frontman sings really nice.”

Your eyebrow quirked up. “You don’t seem the type to like alternative rock. I kinda doubted you knew Radiohead in the first place.” 

You snorted. He didn’t seem the type to even like music at all and came off as someone who preferred white noise instead.

His eyebrows raised and he drank his coffee. “Do I really seem that type? Tell me, what music do you think I like?”

You smiled. “Probably some shit like Mozart? Bach? Dunno. Something smart like that.”

You felt your muscles relax and felt your cheeks warm. You felt comfortable in his presence despite having thoughts back to the stupid bet you made. 

Your heart fluttered at what happened next: he laughed.

Your eyes widened as you simply gawked at him laughing. It wasn’t a quick chuckle nor a scoff, he actually laughed. 

It was a melodic sound—something you didn’t expect from him of all people. It flowed natural and smooth despite his usually tired and deep sounding voice. 

You wanted to hear it again.

“Really? I seem like that? I know you’re quite the jokester but I’m not like that.” He smiled at you, and all you did was simply gawk at him like he gained a third head.

You shrugged. “You give off those vibes. But hey, I’d love to get music recommendations from the great Hiromi Higuruma someday. Who knows? Maybe I’ll find my next favorite song.” You said, unaware of his raised eyebrow at your words. 

He didn’t seem opposed. 

“You use Spotify, right? We can make a shared playlist. We can listen to it while we make some final edits to the paper.”

“Oh! Sure.” You stopped for a second before handing him your phone where he made a blank playlist and shared his own Spotify profile. 

You took your phone back and raised an eyebrow at the title of the playlist. “Poli-Sci Journal Playlist? Is that the best you could come up with? How dry.”

“You choose then, if you have such a problem with my chosen playlist title.”

And before you were going to respond, he spoke up. “We’re here.”

The casualness between you two made you feel warm. Especially considering the fact that he was now initiating it; it made you feel like you weren’t annoying him. Like the quips you let out weren’t just one-sided. 

Like you had nothing to really “hate” on him for. You initially hated him for being dry, but as of now he was anything but.

You were lost in thought while taking the elevator to his apartment where he tapped your shoulder. 

“C’mon. We’re here.”

“Right.”

Once you reached his apartment, you got readjusted onto the couch, grabbed the coasters he had lying around in the coffee table, and placed your matcha there. 

He walked over to the couch and sat by you, on his phone. Surprisingly.

You smiled and attempted to peer over his shoulder to see his screen. “Talking to your girlfriend, Higuruma?”

His eyebrow raised at your quip and shrugged, handing you his phone. “That’s up for interpretation. Here, I added some songs to the playlist.”

You took it and looked at it. “‘Lover, You Should’ve Come Over’? ‘About You’? I think it’s safe to assume you don’t have a girlfriend, but hey. These are really good songs.”

“Once again, Y/N. That’s up to your interpretation.”

You went back onto analyzing the paper and read it—anything to avert your attention from him and his stupid face. His phone was playing the songs the two of you had chosen on the playlist. 

As of now, The 1975 was playing; 'About You' filling the slight silence in the apartment. 

Still, one thing was on your mind: why was he being so cryptic?

You sat on the couch with him, analyzing a draft paragraph on theory of fairness when you noticed his expression changed as you leaned closer. 

You noted the change in his gaze from your peripheral; the manner he leaned against the edge of the couch and the way he was just looking at your figure. It was methodical, careful—almost reverent.

You glanced back at him. His eyes lingered on the slope of your neck, the pretty shape of your lips, to finally the allure of your eyes. 

The lamplight, all warm and dimmed, softened his features. 

In the light, he didn’t look like the same harsh classmate that executed everything he did in a precise manner.

The shadows softened his features in a way that could make angels cry and he looked like a muse for a classical Roman statue. The way his pretty lips parted like he was going to say something, the way his eyes softened under your returning gaze and the way his nose looked so sharp yet alluringly sexy. 

You felt a clench in your chest at the thought, at the effect he had on you. His expression was unreadable. 

You swallowed and cleared your throat. “This is perfect now, Hiromi. I think that we did pretty good…” Your voice was a bit shaky, anxious-sounding. 

You were just blabbering about the topics covered when he suddenly interrupted you.

“You’re always so confident, L/N.“

You became stiff. His voice was lower—deeper, almost seductive. It had an edge you couldn’t explain.

He tilted his head slightly and the corners of his lips curved. “Is that to our—my benefit?”

The pronunciation of his words left you breathless—the way he said ‘my’ left shivers down your spine. 

Maybe it was the caffeine and sleep deprivation making you think in such a manner. Despite that, you couldn’t deny how aggravatingly good he looked. How much you felt drawn to him—not by lust but by the natural law of attraction. 

His mannerisms, his rhetoric, everything. His tone wasn’t deadpan, rather lifted by a charm you couldn’t explain.

You slightly smiled, your voice dripping with tease to appear calm. Anything to appear like he didn’t have such a visceral effect on you. 

“Do you want it to be, Hiromi?”

The smooth roll of his name on your tongue felt foreign, usually being said quick and easy but now having a different weight. 

“You don’t even flinch when I speak in class anymore.” His voice was calm but there was a twinge of dissatisfaction in his words. 

“You would have some type of reaction. A glance, sigh. That little frown you have when you disagree with something I want to say.”

He leaned his head against his wrist while he looked at you with an analytical gaze. He was looking at you like you were a court case he had to revise for class—same intense look. “No reaction from you anymore.”

So he does that on purpose. 

You shot him a grin. “Because why not? I have nothing of substance to say. What can I say? I only argue when needed.”

“I think I miss it,” he muttered. His gaze averted from you and you felt a pang in your chest. 

“Maybe I’ve grown” He glanced at you, your words dripping with unexpected sarcasm. “Y’know, selective silence is my new thing. Gotta keep them on their toes.”

He hummed. “It keeps the lecture interesting when you do so. You should keep doing that. I at least knew someone paid attention to what I say.”

You didn’t respond immediately and averted your gaze over to his collarbone out of shyness. Like if you kept staring at his eyes, you would start screaming out of embarrassment.

“I notice,” you murmured. “You don’t have to worry about me not listening.”

He let out a deep exhale. “You’re difficult, you know that? You say things and sometimes I’m not even sure you mean it.”

You smiled. “I mean you’re not wrong. Sometimes I just talk and talk…”

His gaze was still on you and you lightly laughed at your predicament. “I’m shocked I didn’t talk your ear off yet. I’ve been expecting you to tell me to shut up but nothing…”

“Okay. Then stop talking.”

Your eyes widened and lips parted. His words weren’t with malice or offense rather low and breathless. Like he didn’t think about what he just said. 

“That simple, hm?” Your laugh turned almost bitter, dry. He sat closer to you and you could smell his cedarwood cologne closer to the point where your senses were drawn. 

“Nothing with you is ever that simple.”

Your fingers were intertwined with your red gel pen, flicking it against the edge of your fingers as you tapped it on your knee. But with his stupid words, you accidentally flung it. 

Such a simple move like leaning forward to grab it affected him. You moved your shoulders to prevent them from being stiff and you ran your fingers through your hair without thinking.  By the time you turned over to him, you met his gaze. It wasn’t just intense, rather like he was starving. 

“Should I be worried?” You asked. “You look at me the same way you look at the documents we’re covering. You got this intense look in your eye, so I can’t help but feel a little nervous.”

He looked like he was caught off guard. “Really?”

“Mhm. Makes me feel like I’m about to be cross-examined, counselor.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled sharply, a ghost of a laugh escaping his lips from the stupid nickname. “It’s not that…You just…throw me off.”

Your eyebrow raised in an amused manner. “Really, Hiromi? That’s not very academic of you, I fear.”

“Yeah…I know.” He let out a small, pitiful laugh. For a moment, he didn’t look at you, rather his gaze drifted to the floor. Like he was nervous.

“The first week of class, I overheard you telling Geto that I spoke like a scary litigator.”

You blinked. “I did?”

He nodded. “Was that a moment where you spoke without thinking?”

You felt that pang in your heart again. This was too intimate, too much to bear. It mirrored a confession scene like in those movies you watched and you felt nervous. You realistically had no reason to; he was someone your friends bet on, not someone you should fall for.

“Well,” you shot him a nervous smile, “you kind of do. And you sound professional. Cutthroat.”

He stayed quiet until he hesitantly spoke. “If anything, you’re the same…”

Your breath caught in your throat. That wasn’t flirting…that was something else.

“I don’t really know what to do with that,” you whispered. 

He looked at you again with that same intense gaze. “I—neither do I…”

The pen you’d thrown earlier rolled slightly across the floor with the shift of your knee, but neither of you moved to get it.

You could feel your heartbeat in your ears and felt how warm your face had gotten. 

He leaned back slightly, like he was going to speak but slightly hesitated. “I thought that if I acted like this didn’t affect me then it would carry on and not…”

“And how’s that working for you now?” you asked. 

He hesitated. “Not working. Not in the slightest.”

The silence engulfed the both of you, except the sound of the train and cars outside along with the playlist still ringing on his phone— specifically a Radiohead song. 

It was impossible to ignore how you felt. Impossible to ignore how he made you feel. So you leaned in ever so slightly; possibly an inch. 

He met you the rest of the way. 

Just like that. And you didn’t stop him. Not even in the slightest.

He tasted like the black coffee he drank, vanilla chapstick, and smelled like his annoyingly expensive, woody cologne that drove your senses on overdrive. 

His lips moved with vigor and desperation. It was a move of pure desire—different from pure lusting rather it being anticipation. 

Like he’s been waiting to do this for a while. And the way he held you was like he was afraid of breaking you.

You didn’t push back rather wrapped your arms around his neck and pushed him onto you; the both of you were laid onto his couch, him on top of you while your lips moved with even more aggression. 

Your fingers clutched the hem of your jeans and his hand grazed your cheek. He pulled back slightly, looking in your eyes like he was looking for your reaction.

You shot him a half-frown, albeit flustered. “Was that supposed to shut me up?”

For the first time, you felt butterflies in the manner that he smiled at you; it was cute and sexy. “It worked. Didn’t it?”

“I’ve been thinking of doing that…” he muttered. For the first time, you don’t think you’ve ever heard him sound so unsure and not confident in his words. Like he was anxious on your reaction and response.

You swallowed and let out a jagged exhale. “Me too…”

His gaze brightened towards you. Then you latched your lips onto his with just enough aggression to make him want more as he held your face with one hand and placed the other on your hip.

His hands roamed over your body, hesitant to feel you. You grabbed him by the collars of his stupid sweatshirt and felt his body weight and warmth against yours. 

Fuck Hiromi Higuruma. 

Him and his nonchalant demeanor, shitty awkward smile, shitty know-it-all personality. Even the way his hair was styled that day and his little wrist-watch pissed you off. 

But God…you wanted to fuck him so bad in that moment. You wanted to touch and feel all of him.

“Touch me…please,” you murmured in the heat of the moment. You looked at him, foggy glasses and flushed face. Your tinted lip gloss was smeared on his lips and he blinked profusely at your words. 

“Okay.” His hands fiddled with the front of your jeans as he slid them off. His eyes widened at the sight of your pink panties all soaked and at your beautiful toned legs. 

Hiromi looked up at you for reassurance; as if he didn’t know what he was doing. 

You smiled. “Do you know how?”

His face got redder and he blinked, slowly shaking his head ‘no’. “I—I want to try.”

“I’ll help you.” You grabbed his wrists and guided them to the waistline of your panties. His breath became shaky and you leaned forward to kiss him. 

“Do you trust me?” You whispered, eyes filled with need. 

He nodded profusely. “Yes.”

You guided his dominant hand down to your folds and clit. Your fingers adjusted his own so that his thumb was on your clit while his ring and middle fingers played with your folds—aching for his touch. 

“Oh my God…Hiro— k-keep doing that…” Your breathing became shaky as he kept rubbing at your clit and his fingers curled into you. He continued his pace while you grabbed at his wrist in reaction to his touch. 

You moved your hips to feel his fingers further as they thrusted inside you. 

Your lips latched onto his one more time; the action overtaken with lust and need, like you absolutely needed each other.

“Damn it…” he muttered, feeling the way your pussy clenched around his long fingers. 

He brought his arousal-slicked fingers and put them in his mouth, savoring the sweet taste of your pussy. 

“Fuck…You’re so damn sweet.”

Hiromi glanced at you again and parted his lips in hesitation. “Y/N? May I try something?” 

You shot him a glance and nodded. “Of course.”

Hiromi nodded, a smile playing on his lips while he leaned back, positioning his face by your bare pussy; wet, puffy, and desperate for him. 

Your lips parted as you felt him go down on you, calloused and large hands gripping your soft, smooth, lush thighs. 

“Please let me know if I’m doing okay.”

You fought off a smile at his words and nodded. You felt the presence of his tongue licking the slit of your pussy while you felt his nose rub on your clit. 

His tongue slowly entered your hole to which you gripped on his black hair in reaction while the point of his nose rubbed on your puffy clit.

Your hips bucked against his face, moving them up and down so deliciously. The sound of him slurping up your pussy drove you mad. His calloused hands gripped your thighs and his thumbs traced circles on your skin: littered with goosebumps at the sensation of him eating your pussy out. 

He ate you out like a starved man, gripping your inner thighs with more strength as he tilted his head while working his tongue. You felt your back arch as your breathing turned almost jagged, feeling his moans against your core.

“Y-You’re doing so good, Hiro…Fuck.” You shut your eyes, feeling the way that little knot in your stomach was inching towards release the more his nose rubbed your clit and thrusted his tongue in and out like he was insatiable for your sweet taste.

You felt your legs shake over his shoulders and that knot slowly undo itself; where you came and shuddered as he slurped even louder. 

“Did I do alright..?” He lifted himself up to see you; his face was absolutely pink and his glasses were resting on the top of his head. His lips and nose were glistening with your arousal and you fought off a smile at the sight.

“More than alright.” You moved yourself to kneel before him, working with the buckle of his belt and sliding his pants and briefs down. Your legs slightly shook at the foreign position but you began stroking his cock: large, veiny, and certainly girthy.

You took his cute strawberry-tinted tip leaking with pre in your mouth, licking it slightly. Your hand worked at the base of his cock, stroking it while his tip stayed in. The taste of his salty sweet cum in your mouth made you feel almost needy for more as you took him whole. 

Tears began brimming at your eyes as you looked up at him, eyes closed and lips parted as he said your name like a prayer. His breathing became more jagged and his forehead gleamed with sweat already, a string of curses leaving his lips. 

“Mm…” He squeezed his eyes shut cutely as your tongue teased his cock slightly, giving him butterfly kisses until you took him whole again. His cock twitched and you sucked him further, squeezing his thighs from how fast you were going. 

You slurped on his cock further, milking him dry from his release in your mouth. His hands gripped on your hair as you did so, his voice cracking with every whine, and you’ve never felt more aroused.

You wiped the corners of your lips and swallowed. “Now fuck me. Please, Hiro.” Your widened doe eyes looked up at him, still on your knees. He blinked, nodding to your immediate request. 

He stripped off his upper half and lifted your shirt up as well. You poked his chest for him to sit down on the couch as you unclipped your bra.

His hooded eyes were glued onto your cute breasts, perky from the cold air hitting them. His gaze roamed on your body; all bare and beautiful in the dim, golden light of his lamp illuminating the place.

“God, you’re beautiful…” he muttered, his gaze mirroring that of before: analytical except there was that hint of gentleness that seemed to overtake the rest of his expression. 

“You flatter me too much,” you murmured, climbing on top of him slowly as you felt his hard on against the inner of your thighs. Your lips met his neck as you kissed it softly; simultaneously, you felt his hands roam on your body again, massaging your ass as you grind against his cock. 

You noticed how he swallowed and touched you like he didn’t know what to do, and you smiled. 

“You’re a damn tease,” he said, letting out a breathless laugh.

“I’m aware, but I know you like it too.” 

You grabbed his cock from the small space between the two of you and stroked it slowly, giving it a few pumps. Your hips bucked up as you aligned the tip of his cock to your puffy, wet slit. 

“I’ve got you,” he whispered, looking at you as he followed your instruction. You wrapped your arms around his neck as you slowly adjusted yourself.

You moved your hips to the side and shifted your weight on your knees as you went up and down his cock. You could feel every pulsating vein and how lengthy yet filling his cock was to your tiny pussy, begging for him to fuck you. 

“Move. Fuck me. Please.” You said it in such a manner that your voice cracks and whiny tone almost unlocked something in him. His slow touches on your ass became rougher, with more weight and force.

His hips went at a damn near animalistic pace, rutting into you with vigor as his hands maneuvered your ass. The pitter-patter sound of your soaked thighs meeting his echoed through the apartment loudly and that alone made you whine, feeling the sticky and hot skin with every move of the hips. You felt him slap your ass and you couldn’t stop the near-pornographic moan that slipped from your lips. 

“Ahh…F-Fucking damn it,” you whined, scratching at his tan toned biceps; they were so defined, strong. Your face was buried in the crook of his neck as you felt him pant against your warm skin. Hiromi had pressed your body closer to his, your perky breasts against his toned chest while he fucked you with finesse.

“Don’t stop, please,” he groaned, the raspy sound of his voice leaving you with butterflies in your stomach and your pussy fluttering around his cock.

“Fuckfuckfuckfuck—Y/N…” he closed his eyes and held you tighter, the sensation of him bottoming out only had you squeezing your eyes shut and knees bucking. It was warm, leaving you filled up with serotonin and his cum. 

You kept riding him, feeling how your release was approaching and how your pussy squeezed on him. Hiromi let out such raspy moans that it led you to quicken your pace; such alluring yet seductive sounds coming out of the lips of someone you should hate. 

“Fuck—Hiromi..!” You felt yourself soon reaching your climax and throwing your head back, wanton moans slipping from your lips as your hips gyrated back and forth slowly until you stopped.

You felt your body slump down against him, panting while a sheen of sweat decorated your skin as you both breathed heavily in attempts to catch your breath. He held you gently—with such care as if you were made of sugar, about to crumble on his fingers.

His fingertips brushed on the skin of your hips while he kissed the crown of your head. You were laid on his chest and could hear how rapid his heartbeat was—and how it was matching your own.

There was no sassy quip you could come up with nor any dramatic diss you could throw on him. It was silent between you two, except for the beeping of cars and the train outside. 

You felt your heart clench at your current state: clung to him while he was still inside you.

You couldn’t deny your feelings at your current situation. 

You attempted to get out of his grasp but he held you tighter. 

“Stay the night,” he whispered. It was such a simple offering but your face got warm again. You couldn’t.

“I–I don’t know…”

“Please, love.”

There was a beat of silence before you let out a deep exhale, his nickname causing your heart to beat faster. He spoke to you with gentleness, care; like he didn’t leave your ass red and pussy filled and swollen. 

“Okay.”

You couldn’t deny the sensation in your chest just thinking of the vulnerable state you were in. Letting someone like him see.

You’ve come to the unfortunate conclusion that you’ve gained feelings—and now face a weird ultimatum.

Give up your pride, tell him the truth, and risk not getting that rank; or getting that rank no matter the cost. 

And at that moment, you didn’t know.

                               ──────────────────── 

You weren’t one to call for an emergency meeting, but this time, you had no choice but to. 

Shoko had barely sat down before raising an eyebrow at your nervous demeanor. “Something happened. Didn’t it?” Her voice was flat and deadpan. 

Satoru and Suguru were across from you and mid-sip their coffees before they exchanged a knowing glance. They both looked at you, your appearance and demeanor.

“You slept with him,” Suguru said bluntly, like he was absolutely positive and all-knowing.

Your lack of response gave you away and Suguru and Shoko lightly laughed while Satoru’s jaw dropped. 

“Hold up…” Satoru leaned in like he was telling you a secret and shot you a shocked look. “You fucked Robot Man?”

Your face burned and you looked away. “Stop calling him that.” 

“No fucking way,” he murmured, “You’re telling me you actually slept with Higuruma? You’re lying…”

You let out a deep exhale and buried your face in your hands. “I’m not lying.”

Suguru had an amused look on his face and pointed at the sweatshirt you were wearing—the law firm’s insignia embroidered on the left side of the chest. Specifically the law firm’s insignia Higuruma interned at.  

“That’s his. I’ve seen him wear it during midterms.”

You groaned and covered your face meekly. “I didn’t mean for that to happen. I mean—It just happened. And now I feel like I’m gonna be sick and I don’t know what to do…”

“Probably because you like him. Like really like him,” Shoko said, matter-of-fact. 

You blinked at her like she had three heads. “What?”

“Look, you dense girl,” Suguru added, “If you didn’t, you wouldn’t be spiraling like this.”

You slumped in your seat and groaned, your coffee untouched and cooled. “Look, I’ve been thinking…about ending the bet. Like no more, calling it off for good. He’s not who I thought he was and he’s really nice…”

Shoko leaned back smugly and extended her hand towards Satoru, earning a glare from him. “Pay up, good sir.”

He sighed and slapped a crumpled twenty dollar bill from his wallet into her palm. 

Suguru chuckled. “You were the one who said he ‘probably got no bitches’ or am I mistaken?”

Satoru pouted. “Still does but I guess his whole…melodramatic intense poli-sci vibe works…Maybe I should consider trying that.”

Shoko snorted. “Right…I’m sure every girl on campus would love to hear you rant about the philosophy behind finance bros,” to which Satoru flipped her off. 

They were teasing, sure, but none of it felt mean. 

“We get it,” Shoko continued, her tone softer and understanding. “You’re not doing it for just the game anymore. That’s understandable.”

You sighed. “I don’t even know if he feels the same way…”

Satoru shrugged. “Tell him regardless. As much of an ass that he might be, he deserves to know.”

Suguru nodded, a knowing smile gracing his face. “Worst case? He doesn’t feel the same. But now you wouldn’t have to be on eggshells. Do it.” 

You nodded slowly, your stomach churning. But even if they might be stupid sometimes, your friends were definitely right. 

────────────────────

He hadn’t texted you all week, until today. 

His message was brief, curt—“Let’s go over final revisions before the journal deadline.” Despite the paper already being turned in to the department head. 

Still, there you were: outside his apartment and cold from the wind outside. Your palms felt clammy and your hair was still wet from the shower. You did your routine the best you could for the whole week yet you couldn’t shake the feeling of the pit in your stomach residing every time you thought about him. 

That even caused you to sit all the way in the back during lecture; somewhere he couldn’t hear or see you.

“Y/N…” Hiromi looked at you, his gaze shifting from one of hesitance to one of worry. His eyes narrowed at the way you were pacing outside of his door and went to a stop the moment he opened the door. "Are you alright? Come in."

You slowly stepped inside, your body suddenly going stiff as the intimate smell of cedarwood and eucalyptus hit you. The apartment was dimly lit, courtesy of the lamps in Hiromi's living room. Yet, everything felt different. 

You turned around, standing in the center of his apartment with your arms crossed to your chest. He shut the door and watched you carefully. "You...didn't bring your laptop."

"No," you said. "I didn't bring it."

You met his gaze for a second and looked away. The view of his eyes: narrowed and emotion practically leaking from his look, made you feel guilty—sick. 

"Hiromi, just...please stop." You whispered softly. Despite the bustling city life of downtown, it was like everything was silent between the two of you, slow. 

His eyebrows slightly furrowed but he didn't move from where he was. "Okay."

You swallowed and cleared your throat. "I know this isn't about the paper," you started, your voice low and hesitant. "And I know I've been avoiding you and not speaking to you, but I didn't want to say anything until I knew how...I felt."

"There was a bet.”

He didn’t react—not at first.

You kept talking before you lost all your nerve. "Back when we got paired for the journal, my friends thought it would be funny if I got you to fall for me or to piss you off. And if I did, then they would help with getting a recommendation letter from Kitagawa."

You paused for a moment, swallowing the immense guilt you felt bubbling in your chest. "At first...I didn't think it would matter. You were so...closed off, focused. I thought it would be harmless and a joke."

You looked up and you felt your heart crack at his still expression; he was looking at you like you were a person in your lecture saying something stupid. And you didn't blame him, you couldn't. Not in the slightest.

"But then I got to know you. The way your mind works and the way you speak when you think I'm not listening and how kind you are and how you have such strong fucking integrity."

You looked to the side, to the living room, and exhaled sharply. "And it stopped being a joke. And I didn't know how to come clean without ruining everything, so I just...stopped. Because I liked—like—you. And I hated myself for it.”

There was a pregnant pause between the both of you. It was silent—but you didn't feel any hostility. Despite that, you could practically feel your pulse in your ears.

Then he spoke, calm, collected. Like he was restraining himself. 

"Thank you for telling me."

You blinked. His tone was completely calm. "Y-You're not mad..?"

He let out a slow breath. "I don't know what I am right now."

Hiromi ran a hand down his face and then looked at you again—not with anger or resentment rather something close to prostration, like he was hurt. 

"I had a feeling something was off. Especially after that...night." 

He paused and ran his fingers through his hair, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose shortly after. "I didn't reach out because I didn't want to make you uncomfortable. I thought maybe you regretted it, because you were very quick to leave soon after."

You opened your mouth to speak, to say something, but you literally couldn't.

"I've been thinking about it all week," he said, his voice cracking the slightest amount. "And not just that night but you. The way you laugh when you're trying not to be nervous. The way you argue when you know you're right—which is almost all the damn time. The way you snap your fingers when you figure something out."

Your heart felt like it was going to break. 

"I like you," he said, his voice slightly above a whisper. "I really like you. Even if it started with those intentions. Even if I don't know what to do with all of that. All I know is that I’ve never done something like this before—liked someone how I like you.”

Your body moved before you could even process everything he just told you and took a step forward. Then you felt his arms snake around your waist, engulfing you in his pretty cederwood scent that you liked so much.

Then, he spoke softly, face buried in your hair. "For the record, if it even matters, I was going to call you. A dozen damn times."

Your lips curved into a smile. "Why didn't you?"

"Thought I would come across as too strong or pushy. Or that everything that happened was a figment of my imagination."

You snorted at his words, despite the tears brimming at the corners of your eyes. "You didn't."

He smiled too—a real genuine smile. Not those forced ones he gives professors rather one that simply came about. Your heart clenched at the sight. 

Hiromi hummed and he lightly laughed before speaking. "I guess I should go thank Geto."

Your eyebrows furrowed at the mention of your friend and he laughed again. "What the hell? For what?"

"He told me to 'man the hell up because it's obvious'. He said you liked guys who made the first move."

You slightly blinked. "So that's why you were so...confident?"

His smile dropped and a look of concern flashed on his face. "Was it that bad?"

You giggled and covered your face. "A little slutty, I can't lie."

He kissed his teeth and his lips twitched. "Damn. I tried, though."

You extended your hand and held his, intertwining your fingers together. "For what it's worth, though...I liked it. Maybe a bit too much."

And then, before you could make another stupid joke, he caught your face between his warm hands, catching your lips with his in a slow kiss. 

You didn't pull away. And you didn't want to.

    ────────────────────

— tags : @stardollwrites @gojoikawa

[heartfullofleeches]

While the psychological mindfuxking Host puts Darling through in order to wear them down into being his co-host is honestly one of the most fun things to write, I live for Darlings who were never appreciated in their own time and suck up all the praise he gives them for their talents.

Crafty Reader who also dabbles in a bit of inter decorating winds up on Host's show and their immediate first thought is "Damn, bitch- You host a game show on this stage?"

It's cute- but a little outdated. Where's the passion? The irritatingly bright neon signs that burn their eyes from a mere glance. Potted plants??? Anything??

Normally Host isn't one to tolerate guests that interrupt his opening speech, but as Darling goes off on their tangent Host is left stumped - stupefied, damn near mesmerized by that fire in their eyes. He can't say they aren't wrong either- Props come and go as Host wishes, but the stage is a bit lacking without them. Not contestants don't stick around long enough to point it out, but with his newest and top pick for co-host right in front of him perhaps it's time for a few changes.

"Congratulations! You won today's show Give our fans a big smile and wave goodbye to our losers."

"I won?...but you didn't even ask me any questions."

"Oh, you- If answering questions was the only way to win here no one would."

Darling is whisked away by stage hands into a bedroom- The room is deprived of any furniture beyond a bed, a large chest propped against the farthest wall, and a table upon which an old sewing machine sits. It looks a bit like the one they had back home, but the label is made up of jumbled letters and symbols. How are they supposed to use the darn thing without any supplies anyway?

Darling inspects the chest and finds.... pretty much everything tucked away in their small bedroom, their real bedroom that they use for their projects. No construction paper, though.....

Oh. There's some.

Darling quickly discovers that whatever they require appears in the chest whenever they're vocal with their requests. On occasion, the chest acts without their say and pulls the thought from their mind before they're able to speak. It isn't long before the empty space is fully stylized to their personality and presences. Darling thinks they did a great job. The teddy bear on their bed believes so too.

.....When did that get there?

Darling may have won his show, but Host is the real winner when he see what Darling has done to his stage. Host are extended by another hour....or year with how long he brags to guests about Darling's craftsmanship. Time is a tricky thing to keep track of when the watches you wear flop between ticking backwards or at a snails pace.

"Thoughts on those name plates? Our brilliant co-host made them for you all- Are you lucky? I of course have my own, but- Oh, come now. I know this is top quality work, but there's no need to scream. Give our co-host a hand for all their hard work....Or lose both."

[bokettochild]

Just saw the update!

So, first thoughts!

Gremlin Legend and Sky is something I am LIVING for. Sky's little look of approval as he stands between Wars and Legend after that little move is sending me!

(Wild is not impressed)

I also really love that JoJo played with Warriors' cape/scarf being capable of doing that, which is a major risk btw, but I love that we see it's potential now!

Like, Legend's timing is perfect (and I love that this confirms the Legend v. Wars dynamic we all love) especially considering Hyrule was literally talking about the same thing and you'd THINK Captain-War-Hero over here would be more cautious because of it (although the fact this implies Legend doesn't trigger Warriors danger sense is GREAT for the fluff fic writers like me!)

Time and Wars looking like disappointed parents though is brilliant

(Warriors with messy hair is so funny to me, help)

The continued portrayal of Time being too harsh with the boys, all tense after what happened to Twilight, that's great. i'm glad the consequences of past events are following them, it really makes this all feel linear!

I also am ALL HERE for the boys finding their differences! Warriors and Wild both admitting to being new to dungeon crawling and the monsters involved is a great thing we've all been playing with in fics, but making it cannon feels like validation :)

Also, Warriors being defensive of that, and maybe a bit prickly about their judgement, I think it shows a lot of him. he's got his pride,a although he's learned to tame it. He's feeling a bit miffed to realize how different he is, but doesn't want them seeing him as lesser as well (although they never would). I can also hear him using a clipped military sort of tone when speaking here. It's just the way his words are selected and strung together that makes it seem he's being very to the point, direct, and cold in his tone, which really sells the whole difference between a soldier and the "average nobody" that the rest of them were (ironic, since he's trying to act like the difference isn't a big deal but only further accentuates it this way).

Twilight being pleased that Epona is fine and just enjoying a meal made me grin so big though. He's all worried for his girl but she is, quite literally, happy as a horse over there LOL

Also, this bit:

recognition for Sky's right-handedness, my beloved! (JoJo is giving us all the easter eggs!)

The fact that the passage is too small to let them all fight though is a brilliant way of preventing some of our heavy hitters and more skilled heroes from being able to do anything though!

I like how that gives us the chance to see Time one-shot the foe and also gives him the impression that the rest are maybe not skilled enough to do this alone. WE all know they are, but they're a handicap to each other right now, and it's only further cementing in his mind that they're not ready for all this, which will make his overbearing speech and the judgement he casts on them in combat all the more an issue.

I mean, we all know the hero's shade was like that, but JoJo has shown Time acting this way from the start

(Deep Shadows P.2)

(Likelike)

So I guess we're in for more of that now, and most likely someone (probably Legend, as it's usually him, or Wind, who is very aware of judgement from teh rest) is definitely going to have to call him on it soon, maybe in the dungeon. Will that lead to some bonding with Time where he has to admit he cares and worries about them as though they're his own? I hope so!

Anyways, all this to say, we really are seeing how much they struggle to work together, so hopefully this dungoen will teach them all how to do that better, as Time mentioned earlier

(Dawn p.8)

Now, to finish it off!I would like to thank JoJo for giving us so many beautiful shots of Twi this time around. I'll admit it now, he's pretty darn fine <3

That said, I'm loving the Legend content too! i hope we get to see some more starring moments from him going forwards, what with him being the dungeon veteran and all! It's great seeing his childish/playful side these last few updates, but I'm really craving some veteran Legend right now >:)

[mythicmanuscripts]

Hey, Sea! I'm kinda crazy about your work and I'm always sooo happy when there are new posts from you. I love the way you write the characters, it's so delicate, sweet and just amazing! And truth be told, I came for sub!aemond, but now I'm so hooked up on sub!aegon

In one of your previous posts you said something that made my mind spiral: himbo!aegon. Now I just need to read something, anything about it, if it's not too much to ask

This is so funny to me because I too started writing for sub!aemond and then ended up hooked on sub!aegon so I'm glad to hear others are in the same position.

I have plenty of asks with Aegon angst, which is absolutely brilliant we all know I love torturing the lad, but I think this could be the perfect ask to actually have some happy Aegon? So there will be happy subby himbo!aegon below the cut! Oh and I've made himbo!aegon a tag so that we can discuss it more!

So firstly, very early in your marriage to Aegon you discover that he just functions better when he has instructions to follow? At first this confuses you so much because you've seen how angry and irritable he gets when Allicent orders him to do something, and yet when you do it he almost seems relieved?

It takes a long time for Aegon to talk to you about Allicent and about how she affects him, but eventually he explains that Allicent just has this way of speaking to him and instructing him that makes him feel inferior and stupid? She will purposefully insult him while giving him an order, breaking his confidence and self image down enough that he doesn't trust his own thinking.

But then with you, you're so sweet about it? You listen to him and you help him and you praise him when he does as you ask. You never, ever, make him feel useless or stupid and you always make sure to show him how proud you are of him.

So when you smile at him and ask him to do something, he doesn't even consider disobeying? He's almost giddy as he runs back to you to tell you that he's done as you asked. You always praise him and give him a kiss and him feel so so good, so of course he listens to you!!

His mother is wholly incapable of understanding this by the way.

Anyway, so you quickly realise that Aegon really does function better when you instruct him. You first realise this at your wedding when you ask him for something, and the way he absolutely BEAMED at you when you thanked him and said he was perfect? You immediately knew you'd have to look more into this.

Pretty soon you’ve got Aegon wrapped around your finger and honestly he is loving it. Aegon thrives on feeling owned? He absolutely loves being able to refer back to you for guidance, loves being able to slip onto your lap whenever you two are alone and nibble on your collarbone and ear while you explain what you think he should do. It’s the freely given affection that makes him feel so so special and allows him to let his walls down enough that being told what to do no longer feels insulting.

Of course this works in the bedroom too, but that you knew from day one. The moment you gave Aegon the smallest pushback, he relented and when you responded by taking charge, he was completely enamoured and never looked at another again. It’s like you just claimed him and he’s so so pleased with it.

For a while he tries to not seem as reliant on your guidance as he actually is because he’s scared you’ll see him as too weak if you knew the truth. He’ll ask your opinion on something in passing and try to act all nonchalant about it, but in truth he’s hanging onto your every word because he’s not sure what to do and he knows he can trust you.

Eventually when he realises that he can be more open about it and you’ll never tease him or patronise him, well then you pretty much rule the seven kingdoms. He puts you on his small council, and while you don’t always say much in the meetings, Aegon can tell by your expressions what you think of things and when you do speak, it’s always impactful.

The other members of the small council were originally uncertain about him adding you but after one meeting they were to glad he did. It’s like you’re able to perfectly toe the line between understanding Aegon and also understanding what the realm needs. Aegon doesn’t snap when you steer him in a different direction, so the small council is very very grateful (except Allicent but thats not exactly new or surprising).

Also, Aegon isn’t just a himbo because he’s obedient and pretty and little dumb, he also LOVES his wife. He’s considered to be the most in love king in history. The whole of the seven realms knows how much King Aegon loves his queen, and how important it is for them to get on your good side.

If Aegon had it his way, court would be held with you sitting on the iron thrown and him across your lap, his legs dangling over the side of the thrown. Of course you don’t allow this during court because he needs to maintain some semblance of control in front of the noble lords and ladies, but when everyone finally leaves then he jumps off the thrown, waits for you to sit down and gets back on the thrown, this time across your lap. You hold him and have a little debrief.

The first time you suggested a debrief, Aegon had rolled his eyes and refused. But your tone was firm, and you both knew he’d never tell you no when you spoke like that.

And now he absolutely loves the debriefs. Irrelevant of whether you were at court that day or not, Aegon always starts with telling you everything that happened and venting about whatever he needs to vent about. One of the many things Aegon loves about you is how you can joke with him? When he insults a member of court you respond with an even funnier insult. More than once you’ve had to grab him to stop him from falling off your lap from laughing too hard.

Then he gets to hear your thoughts on everything and he’s so so thankful that the two of you seem to just speak the same language? He always knows exactly what you’re doing about and why, you can just explain things in a way that he absolutely loves.

So yeah, himbo!aegon!!

[moobloom11]

Johnathan Byers <3

I don't see enough people putting respect on Jonathan's name. Jonathan might honestly be one of my favourite characters because he is just one of the best people ever??

His relationship with Will is so important to me and has been since I started watching the show. He is constantly supportive and never gives up on his brother. When he believes him to be alive in season 1 he NEVER stops trying to find him; he does everything he can to try and get his baby brother back. He takes it upon himself to create and distribute missing posters when his mother doesn't have the time, he visits the home of his abusive dirtbag of a father because he'll be damned if he doesn't check even the worst possible option if there's any chance that he'll find Will there. In season 2, he comforts Will, listens when his little brother expresses his frustrations with people treating him "like a baby" and, unlike most people, who would tell Will that they're ‘doing it for his own safety', he adjusts his behaviour to keep his brother happy and feeling independant while also making sure he knows that needing support is ok. In season 3, he drops everything the moment Nancy even insinuates that Will might not be safe and puts his own life at risk without second thought to protect his brother and the other kids. Season 4 speaks for itself because, even while he's dealing with his own issues in some noooottt so healthy ways (being stoned all the time) he still takes notice of his brother's distress and pain, apologises for his own behaviour and makes sure Will knows he is loved and always will be loved no matter what (I could go on for days about that scene alone, makes me cry every time).

Also not strictly about Jonathan himself but I just adore the fact that, in season 4, we can see how Will has picked up on some of Jonathan's tendencies and habits as a brother and emulates this in his relationship with El (the protectiveness, methods of support, and even some of his body language and facial expressions in certain scenes resembles that of Jonathan’s).

(And I love that we also see Jonathan treat El like a sister immediately. The Byers-Hopper family are my Roman Empire I love them).

I know some people will disagree but I also think he is honestly a great boyfriend. (Yes he has his flaws in season 4 with the college application and his keeping of this information from Nancy but I can totally see the reason why he does it and it's honestly heartbreaking that he's willing to sacrifice a place in his dream college to support his family). Not to ramble about shipping in a character appreciation post but I think Jonathan and Nancy work so much better than Nancy and Steve because their relationship is truly founded in friendship and mutual respect. Jonathan clearly fell in love with Nancy at some point when she was still dating Steve but he never acted on it until she did. He treated her with kindness and supportiveness regardless of circumstance and that's what made her fall for him. I think the biggest evidence of Jonathan being a fantastic boyfriend is actually their fight in season 3. After both being fired from the Hawkins Post, they're frustrated with each other for equally valid reasons. Jonathan had a right to be angry, as did Nancy, but he showcased his brilliant boyfriend material by recognising that they were both right and wrong and choosing to take responsibility, apologise and he and Nancy worked it out together. Because of both of their openness to understanding one another, they were able to reconcile and work it out (communication which is extremely important to maintaining a healthy relationship!!)

I am going to quickly mention the photo-taking session because, while I understand that it was wrong of him to do, I fully stand by the opinion that he felt terrible about doing it and didn't take the pictures for any malicious reason (or any reason at all seemingly? The way the show presents this scene as a whole is just really confusing to me tbh). I think the most telling thing is that Nancy herself seemed neither creeped out or especially upset by the photos themselves and very quickly forgave Jonathan. I'm not saying what he did was good and it definitely was an uncalled-for invasion of privacy, but I hate it when people act like his character is 'irredeemable' when he did one morally dubious thing that he clearly felt completely awful about very shortly after. I like Steve as a character and 100% think he redeemed himself from season 1 but I can't handle it when people praise Steve for his development and change, excusing his actions entirely, then turn around and call Jonathan a bad guy for this one act.

I don’t think we talk about Jonathan’s character nearly enough and, resultantly, I think his own problems get swept under the rug both in the show and in the fandom. I see so many people insulting him for being stoned in season 4 and ‘having no personality’ throughout the series and it really makes me sad. Jonathan cares about his family SO MUCH that he’s willing to give up his dream college he’s wanted to go to since he was six years old so that he can stay behind to support his mother and family. He turns to drugs to deal with his own problems, which, as unfortunate as it is, is a very common coping mechanism and completely understandable for his character. He is trying to deal with his own trauma, personal problems and general life while maintaining a healthy and committed (now long-distance) relationship with his girlfriend and acting as a carer to now not one but two siblings. It’s a hell of a lot for anyone to deal with and I’m sick of people sympathising with just about every other character’s trauma and understanding their coping mechanisms but seemingly refusing to do the same for Jonathan.

Anyways I could genuinely go on about this character for days because I just adore him. I think he’s an amazing brother, son, boyfriend and all around person and I want to see people appreciating him more. I am a Jonathan Byers defender, apologist, protector, lover and stan until the end.

[thelostgirl21]

Okay so... in the Netflix series, Jaskier is supposed to have been born in 1222, which would make him roughly 46 by the end of the books series (i.e. 1268), right?

And, according to the most recent book ("Crossroad of the Crows") Geralt would have been born in 1211 (making him roughly 57 by the end of the series)...

...

...

...

...am I the only one having a complete kick out of trying to integrate Geralt's canon birth year into the Netflix series, and thinking it would be somewhat hilariously brilliant to have them just roll with that new added bit of information?!

Especially if Jaskier knows?!

Because Geralt keeps talking as if he's this old, wise guy that's already been around for centuries (or a century, at the very least)!

He's someone that has grown so jaded with life and disillusioned with the world because humans have such short lives and short memories, that they never learn from their mistakes (amongsts others)...

He keeps speaking as if he's seen Empires rise and fall! Entire Civilizations be wiped out! He's an ancient being that no mere mortal could ever dream of fully understanding!

When, in truth, he's basically a baby white wolf! A young tiny Witcher!

If Jaskier met Geralt when he was 18, then Geralt would have been barely 29 at that time!!!

I can just imagine Geralt, at some point on the road, going:

"In my experience, after everything I've seen and been through in my unnaturally long existence..."

Meanwhile, Jaskier's like: "Oh, for fuck's sake! Vesemir told me you've just turned 35! I bet the raven we've just crossed has seen more stuff than you!"

Basically, during the events of "Sirens of the Deep", you have a Jaskier that's "pushing 40, looks 30, thinks he's 20, and acts like he's 10."

And you have a Geralt that's "pushing 50, looks 40, thinks he's 100, and acts like he's 200!"

Going by their current age (end of Season 3), they're like a modern day Gen X / Xennial (queerplatonic) couple, basically!

You've got the Xennial Millenial (Jaskier), that shows a blend of hopeful optimism combined with a healthy dose of cynic realism, that is constantly trying to convince his Gen X partner to get involved and make a difference in people's lives, that there's still love and beauty to be found in the world, and that even if you don't succeed in changing things, you should at the very least give it your best try!

And you've got your archetypical Gen Xer that just wants to do their own thing, stay neutral in all those conflicts to avoid needing to get involved (or worse, be sucked into other people's dramas... Yuck!); because they grew up in a world where toys and playgrounds were pretty much designed to try to kill you, your parents weren't around to nurture and guide you; and you spent most of your formative years hanging out with a bunch of other neglected kids your age alone at home, doing dumb things with them, totally unsupervised, while the "adult world" was filled with issues that you were told did not concern you!

I mean - and I know this wasn't done on purpose at all, but still - tell me Geralt isn't the perfect on-screen embodiment of a "Gen Xer" transposed into a fantasy universe!

To quote an actual Gen Xers:

"We’ve led our life squeezed between the larger Baby Boomer and Millennial cohorts, two generations who also have quite high opinions of themselves. That has actually suited our sullen personalities, we were never ones to like that much attention. We tend to be a little more reserved, more reticent. If you can give an entire generation personality traits, then describing Generation X as slightly moody introverts, is probably as close as you can get. [...] We are what is sometimes called a Nomad Generation, one who has to pick up the pieces from conflicts between prior generations. In our case, we had to re-build after the boomers rebelled during the sixties and seventies. It makes us practical, more concerned with results than high falutin ideas. It also makes us cynical. In some respects, we were the counter-revolution, a backlash against the optimism and idealism of the boomers. That cynical attitude also comes across at times in our attitude to the millennials. Don’t they realize that the world isn’t that simple? [...] One of the best ever quotes I’ve seen about Generation X is this by Theis Duelund in an article in Vice Magazine; “Jaded Gen X slackers nihilistically accept the machine of which they are a part and can dissect its fundamental facile and evil nature with all the clarity and urgency of a nineteenth-century Romantic poet”."

So, Jaskier and Geralt really have that whole modern day 42 y.o. vs 53 y.o. besties vibe down by Season 3, I swear!

Meanwhile I've just checked, and apparently Yennefer was born in 1192 in the show, making her 19 years older than Geralt (this version of Yennefer would thus be 76 y.o. by the end of the series, assuming they end it on the same year as the books)...

Going by the prior analogy, and assuming Jaskier is roughly around 42 in Season 3, that would make her 72...

... and a Boomer!

I'm laughing so hard at the animosity between them being partly caused by a generational divide, with Jaskier's Xennial arse essentially continuously going with their own universe's equivalent of "Okay, Boomer!" on Yennefer!

Meanwhile, poor Geralt is so done with all the generational warfare, and just wants to take a nap!

And Ciri's birth year is 1250... So she'd be... 14 (Gen Z)?!

Wait. So does that mean Season 3 is happening closer to 1268 than I thought? Or in 1268? Because I thought Ciri was like 18 by Season 3 (wasn't she 14 when Geralt finally found her?)!

If she's 15 in Season 3, then Jaskier would be 43, Geralt 54, and Yennefer 73; and the year would be 1265.

If Ciri is 16, then Jaskier would be 44, Geralt 55, and Yennefer 74; and the year would be 1266.

If Ciri is 17, then Jaskier would be 45, Geralt 56, and Yennefer 75; and the year would be 1267.

If Ciri is 18, then Jaskier would be 46, Geralt 57, and Yennefer 76; and the year would be 1268.

Makes me wonder how old Radovid is on the show...

Because Ciri really can't be anywhere younger than 14.

Meaning that Jaskier can't be anywhere younger than 42, either.

And, while the casting documents apparently put Radovid as being 19 at some point; he looks at the very least 30+ on the show.

A case could be made for 25, perhaps, if it involves a lot of suspension of disbelief, given that Hugh Skinner is very baby faced.

But still, the actor is currently 40 (and, in my humble opinion, does look like most 40 year old baby faced people I know), and Joey Batey is 36 and playing a character that is supposed to be AT LEAST 42 in Season 3 (46 at the very oldest).

And if you put two equally baby faced actors in roughly the same age range together on screen, what you get is two men firmly looking like they are the same age, regardless of whatever age you wish to give them.

In other words, if you'd wanted Hugh Skinner to be able to pull off playing a 19 year old prince, making him the love interest of Joey Batey's character, while asking Joey to portray a guy that's meant to be anywhere between 42 and 46, might not have been the smartest idea.

Not to mention that, despite Jaskier thinking he's 20 and acting like he's 10, Jaskier being 42 and getting romantically/sexually involved with someone that's +/- 20 y.o. would create a solid power imbalance in the relationship that I'm not sure would bring anything more to it.

Radovid already grew up pretty sheltered, in a highly dangerous environment that did a pretty good job at stunting his individuation process. As such, there's already this sort of innocence to the way he's falling in love with Jaskier and allowing himself to take influence from him on the show, that I really see no need to double down on by making Radovid almost a teenager and creating a 20+ years age gap between the two of them.

Plus, IMHO, the idea that Jaskier would have responded the way he did in the cabin, knowing that this was but a scared 20 year old kid stuck in a vipers' nest (I tend to headcanon that Radovid is somewhere between 35 and 40 when he meets Jaskier), feels uncharacteristically harsh given Jaskier's usual level of empathy and understanding.

Yes, Radovid represents tremendous political power, but a 42 year old, emotionally and psychologically, can cause a lot more damage to a 20 year old than the other way around.

With a 20 year old Radovid, Jaskier would thus be needing to navigate a fine line between becoming a romantic/sexual partner, and a bit of an educator/teacher figure to Radovid. And I'm not sure that it's a challenge that's really needed on top of all of the other things they already need to mutually learn to navigate together.

Although the idea that Geralt would have chosen a girlfriend that's roughly 20 years older than himself, and Jaskier gone right for someone that's 2 times 10 years 20 years younger than himself, would be rather funny!

But yeah, to go back to Geralt himself, I kinda love the idea of him being so young, yet constantly acting so old.

Perhaps, just like people tend to believe that Witchers are devoid of human emotions, they always tend to assume that any Witcher they meet are really old and powerful beings, and Geralt has never bothered to correct any of them on those assumptions.

Especially with his white hair, it was all too easy for him to lean into that stereotype, and use people's assumptions about him to his advantage, for once!

Humans interacting with him always assume that he's naturally much older and especially wiser than they are themselves, and that his opinions carry the weight of over a century of life experience!

Kings and Queens invite him to sit at their own tables, seek his counsel, etc.

But really, he's just a 39 year old introvert that got dragged to a party he didn't want to go to by a 28 year old extravert that needed his protection because he keeps fucking around with royalty (quite literally!)!

And now, the music is too loud, the people suck, he just wants to go back home, drink wine, and hang out with his horse; but he still needs to make sure his dumbass friend doesn't get himself killed...

Next thing you know, the Queen suddenly wants to pretend they're palls, he's getting involved in a fight, the crown princess wants to marry a porcupine and she suddenly reveals that she carries some kind of great primal power or something... Turns out the Queen has a real passion for stabbing things, and oh! Destiny was giving away a child of surprise at the venue, and one guess whose name they picked?!

Fuck his life! He can barely keep one bard alive, who'd be dumb enough to entrust him with a child?!

It's even funnier if, genuinely, no one (except the other Witchers, Geralt's closest family and friends, and probably Borch) knows that Geralt was only born in 1211.

By now, he's gotten so used to playing the part, that even Geralt himself tends to forget he's not actually that old.

When he and Jaskier are alone together, or just hanging out with the rest of their family, there are times where Jaskier just lets it slide. And others where he'll start teasing him about it, because "I'll remind you that you're barely a decade older than me, you silly goose!"

On a more sobering front, what if Geralt is so anxious at the mere thought of living for 100+ years, without the passing years visibly and physically aging him, while some of the people he loves most (like Jaskier) continue to grow old and eventually die, that he's always felt that burden very sharply and as if he'd actually experienced it.

And there's a kind of poetic tragedy to

*Spoilers for Lady of the Lake under the cut*

the idea that Geralt - a.k.a. the one constantly struggling with people's shorter lifespans and so scared of being left behind by those he loves - winds up dying (and/or being moved to some eternal realm) at age 57.

While Jaskier - a.k.a. the one that's always loved people wholeheartedly and with fearless devotion - winds up being the one that gets left behind to mourn the loss of his family.

Geralt and Yennefer likely both expected that they would eventually have to go through the shared grief of having to watch Jaskier grow old and die...

...except neither of them would ever get to watch him grow any older than 46.

Meanwhile, Jaskier might still have another 40, or perhaps even 50 years to go on and adapt to the reality of living the rest of his human life without the two of them.

So, whatever you do, please do not think too hard about Radovid finding Jaskier alone in his bedroom drinking and crying in the middle of the afternoon on his 77th birthday, because the reality of having somehow managed to outlive his "mad fucking witch" just hit him full force!

His 58th birthday was hard enough, but now he's officially gotten to live a longer life than both of them on this Continent, and it's so fucking unfair! He's just a bard, godsdamnit!

Also, please don't spend too much time thinking about how, in their first few years together, Jaskier might potentially find himself struggling with a bit of separation anxiety whenever he lets Radovid out of his sight for too long, and possibly whenever there's a small crowd of people starting to surround the king, during various royal events and gatherings, even despite the closeby presence of royal guards.

Don't think about how that anxiety might occasionally turn into a full blown panic attack, should that crowd get a bit too dense for comfort; or how Jaskier might start imagining people carrying pitchforks in the crowd despite his best attempt to avoid thinking about that.

Jaskier's just trying to be brave about it and give poor Radovid some room to breathe at the beginning of the evening... Only to find himself suddenly rushing back to Radovid's side - pushing through the crowd and possibly accidentally elbowing one or two guests in the face - while deciding that he's going to spend the whole event with one arm firmly hooked around Radovid's waist!

Also, he'll have everyone know that he's totally entitled to sing his entire set of songs sitting right in Radovid's lap that night, thank you very much! He's the Redanian royal bard, and as such he'll bloody well sing from whichever spot at court most pleases him!

Radovid is probably being awfully patient, understanding and considerate about it, too. Willing to help Jaskier manage his anxiety and hide it from the world by spontaneously being the one to pull him into his lap when he notices that his bard might be struggling more than usual and need a bit of extra reassurance that night; or signalling to two of his guards to help him make his way through a small crowd to be the one to go "casually join" Jaskier first, when Radovid notices how Jaskier is starting to look like he's scanning the guests surrounding him for threats, and likely to come rushing towards him, hyperventilating and trying to spout some half-baked excuse to explain the sudden need to cling to him as if both their lives depended on it!

But yeah, after having lost both Geralt and Yennefer at the same time in shuch awful circumstances, and having watched Ciri leave for another realm, as much as Jaskier considers himself a bit of a "free spirit" in general, I've a feeling that he might have a certain amount of trauma to work through first before he'll be able to trust that no one's going to be trying to take Radovid from him, too!

So, this post started really light, and then took one hell of a turn after that cut, didn't it?

But yeah, I kinda like the idea of Geralt turning out to be that young in the Netflix universe as well, rather than just in the books.

And, of course, we'll always have fanfiction and fandom in general where we can explore the idea of show Geralt and Jaskier being a mere 11 years apart in age, without the tragedy of Geralt and Yennefer dying (and/or moving to some eternal realm) in 1268 as well!

I'm now sort of tempted to do a rewatch of all of the scenes involving Geralt, Jaskier, and/or Yennefer together on the show while keeping in mind their actual age differences, Jaskier 20 = Geralt 31 = Yennefer 50, Jaskier 30 = Geralt 41 = Yennefer 60, Jaskier 40 = Geralt 51 = Yennefer 70. to see how it affects my perception of some of their interactions.

But really, in terms of the "generational divide" between them, they're basically the equivalent of a Gen Xer, a Xennial Millenial, and a Boomer all starting a family and raising a Zoomer together! It's just beautiful!

[dekariosclan]

As a fellow galemancer i had to share that when your doing the spell scene with gale, when the narrator says the weave is making your one, i couldnt help but notice that he slowly blinks at you like a cat, since tara is technically part cat im sure they blink slow for affection so im not sure but Gale as a cat person slow blinking at you feels so cute, just some food for thought adore you blog as well have a great day

OP, you are absolutely brilliant. However, it seems somehow tumblr autocorrected ‘tressym’ to ‘cat’ in your ask, because as Gale and Tara would both insist, she is definitely NOT a cat, absolutely not, not even a smidge, she’s proudly 100% tressym and we would never want to insult her or get on her bad side by insinuating otherwise! Obviously that was a mistake on tumblrs end! nothing more!!

(…okay OP I think we are in the clear, that should smooth things over with Tara, just wanted to cover all our bases there 😂)

You raise a really interesting point—Gale, having been partially raised by a tressym, could absolutely have picked up a few tressym qualities and mannerisms! So let’s talk about that:

slightly 18+ / suggestive under the cut!

First off, to your point, Gale does the tressym slow blink to show affection. As if Gale’s soft cow eyes weren’t appealing enough, those slow, soft, affectionate blinks?? How could you resist:

Gale loves to touch you, hold your hand, have his hands on you, and of course massage you…except that his massages, while lovely, seem to be less ‘ease your muscle stress by applying firm pressure’ and more ‘making biscuits on your back.’ When you ask where he learned his technique, he says he’s self-taught and proudly adds ‘Tara approves of my form.’ (Doesn’t matter, you love it regardless.)

Gale longingly mentions his tower’s ‘crackling hearth’ several times throughout the game, and just like Tara, it’s one of his favorite places to be—ESPECIALLY if he’s curled up next to it with you. Now, whether you’re on his lap or he’s on yours? That’s entirely up to you. Though Tara might object if her favorite spot—Gale’s lap—is too frequently occupied >:(

Gale occasionally adds in a soft, loving head bump during a makeout session—gently, of course! (This one is canon IMHO as he does this during his ‘Grateful’ kiss variant seen here)

Speaking of making out, when Gale’s engine really gets revved he’ll move from those yearning moans to a low, steady rumble of desire from deep in his chest. A purr of arousal if you will—but one that can turn into a growl as he hungrily claws at your clothes, if your laces/buttons are not cooperating with his need for immediate removal.

It’s canon that Gale hates vegetables, full stop. After all, what self-respecting tressym craves broccoli? He’d much prefer to share a meal of quipperfish, pigeon, or beholder meat with Tara. A proper carnivorous meal, and preferably one that comes with some sort of cream-based delicacy for dessert. Also…are those peas on his plate? Carrots?! Instantly incinerated.

And finally, Tressyms are fastidious about their cleanliness—Tara herself can be seen diligently cleaning her paws during the epilogue—so of course Gale follows suit. He’s very vocal about being disgusted by the bloodbath you can get while in the mindflayer colony in Act 2, and he loathes being in the sewers of Baldur’s Gate. Gale prefers to be clean and preened at all times, not only for his own sense of pride, but also so he can be as presentable as possible for you. (As he himself put it, ‘A gentleman is only as handsome as his least-groomed locus.’). Now when it comes to your cleanliness, though, Gale would never criticize you for your, ah…sweaty, glistening muscles after a fight, OR your particular musk arising from said sweatiness and dirt. In fact he rather likes it, because the only thing better than being clean is the process of getting clean, which he will happily help you with! Perhaps a long, hot, luxurious bath, your naked bodies intertwined as he runs his hands and mouth a bar of soap over every inch of you. Or, perhaps, if bathwater is not available, he could go full tressym and simply lick you clean himself clean you up in a different manner! Who knows?? The possibilities are endless, and he does have a practiced tongue. 😉

— — —

Thank you again for this lovely ask OP! I hope I painted an accurate picture of just how similar our beloved Gale is to a cat TRESSYM !!

As always if anyone has any additional points, please feel free to add them! 🐈🪽💜

[witchofthemidlands]

this isn't a criticism at all because they're all ultimately derived of the same source materials, this is something i want to say in the hopes i can nudge someone towards a special interest of mine that invaded my brain & will never leave.

if you liked nosferatu (2024) wow, do i have the show for you! with the same content warnings as you'd receive for nosferatu may i offer upon you all: penny dreadful (2014-2016)

filled with some of the best ever adaptations of the characters from dracula, frankenstein, jekyll & hyde, the wolf man & the picture of dorian grey is (in my personal opinion) the most phenomenal gothic series i have ever seen in all my years of being a gothic literature fan, i have a degree in literature, a segment of it being in gothic literature, i have read these stories over & over again, dracula is my second favourite novel of all time, frankenstein is also in my top teen novels of all time & i love jekyll & hyde & i don’t think i have ever seen a loosely based adaptation get these characters so well. do you vibe with nosferatu's ellen hutter? let me tell you about the beautiful, the love of my life, vanessa ives! played by the ethereal eva green! vanessa is tragic, beautiful & literally possessed by a demon. she is brave & brilliant, not to be a lesbian but oh my god, i rarely cry at pieces of media but i have shed so many tears over her & been in awe of her existence, she is derivative of both lucy westenra & mina harker, the calibre of acting from eva green is like nothing i have ever seen, her possession moments is just a masterclass in acting & the pain & desperation… oh vanessa will ruin your life. harry treadaway must have been touched by some acting deity & i cannot believe he isn't a massive name in television & film because he is the best version of victor frankenstein i have ever seen in any adaptation of frankenstein & this isn't even about just the frankenstein story. harrytreadaway!victor is an absolute cringefail pathetic wet cat of a man (affectionate) who sits there looking like he's on ten different substances whilst sometimes going off on side quests with his best friend vanessa & often judges the rest of the squad nobody is matching his freak. he is THE version of victor frankenstein of all time. if there is anything else that man has done that anyone recommends send it my way because that is an actor. rory kinnear gives the emotionl performance of a lifetime as frankenstein's creature & explores so many aspects of that character in ways i have never seen before in all my years of watching adaptations of frankenstein. josh hartnett as ethan chandler… that man's story is a RIDE, he is a disaster & a gentleman. he is also openly bisexual & for no reasons why & in no way beneficial to the plot, has sexual relations with dorian gray & speaking of dorian gray. i have never liked that book, that story has never been for me but that beautiful singer reeve carney made me see so many different aspects of a character i have never liked & is just brilliant because his character is just there to have sexual relations & not really benefit the overall plot that much at all. there are new iterations of mina murray, her father malcolm murray, a grumpy old man played the same bloke who portrayed niles caulder from doom patrol & basically plays the same character, van helsing, a charmingly sinister iteration of dracula & an otherworldly brilliantly acted version of dr. henry jekyll who seems like he had a situationship with frankenstein.

ultimately vanessa, sembene, malcolm murray, ethan & frankenstein are forced found family, they are strays, they are disasters, they are frenemies, they're forced found family bound together, in the most dysfunctional manner, the only one with a braincell is sembene who's too good for their shit & of course my love, the brilliant & the gorgeous billie piper plays a phenomenal iteration of the bride of frankenstein in the most raw performance i have seen from her. i am absolutely in love with her, she is so beautiful & so talented & did something to my brain chemistry. there is heartbreak, humour, adventure, the gothic, the weird & the tragic. this series is something else & that's not even the half of it.

also broadway legend patti lupone plays a genderbent dr. seward from dracula & i want her to do unspeakable things to me.

[they-call-me-whiskey]

All the Bitter Truths

pairing: Sirius Black x fem!reader

summary: knowing the truth doesn’t make it hurt any less.

warnings: angst; probably some ooc; English is not my first language.

author’s note: sorry not sorry. here’s the link to the previous chapter.

Sirius has no idea how you found out about his initial intentions, and honestly, he doesn’t even care—all he wants is to fix things with you, but he doesn’t know how, and it’s driving him mad.

he tries to reach you that same day, but you lock yourself in your dormitory and refuse to come out. he considers asking one of your roommates—who is also your close friend—about you, but the moment she sees him, the first thing she says is, “what did you do?”

apparently, you haven’t spoken to anyone. all she knows is that you’d been happy that morning, gone on a date with Sirius, returned early—completely broken—and refused to talk.

Sirius knows that if he tells her the truth, she will never help him. in fact, she will do everything she can to keep him away from you. So he doesn’t.

the next day, he waits outside your classes, hoping to catch you alone. but you either never turn up, or you somehow find another way to slip past him. by lunchtime, it’s clear you’re actively avoiding him.

by dinner, you aren’t even sitting in your usual spot in the Great Hall.

the ache in Sirius’ chest grows heavier with every passing hour. he isn’t used to feeling helpless—he’s always the one who can talk his way out of anything. but none of his usual tricks will work here. you don’t need his charm or his grand gestures. you need the truth.

the problem is, he doesn’t know how to give it to you.

because, technically, you’re right.

at first, he pursued you with the sole intention of winding up his family. dating a Muggle-born, parading you around Hogwarts, making sure everyone saw how much he adored you—it had been an act of defiance, another way to prove that he was nothing like them.

but somewhere along the way, it stopped being about them.

he isn’t sure when it happened—maybe it was the first time you ran your fingers through his hair absentmindedly, or the time you hexed a Slytherin who insulted him, or the way you always saved him the last piece of toast at breakfast. maybe it was all of it.

all Sirius knows is that, before he even realises it, he has fallen in love with you.

and now he’s losing you.

he can’t let that happen.

so, that night, Sirius does the only thing he can think of.

he writes you a letter.

it’s messy, rushed, but it’s honest.

when he slips it under your dormitory door, he hesitates for a moment, fingers lingering against the wood. part of him wants to knock, to force you to face him, but he knows better.

so he steps back.

he doesn’t sleep that night.

every creak of the dormitory floorboards makes him lift his head, every shift of the wind outside makes his heart lurch. maybe you’re reading it. maybe you’ve already thrown it away.

but maybe—just maybe—it’ll be enough.

darling,

I know you probably don’t want to hear from me, and I wouldn’t blame you if you burned this before reading it. but I need you to know the truth, even if you never speak to me again.

yes, in the beginning, I wanted to piss off my family. I was angry, reckless, and you were— Merlin, I don’t even have the words for what you were. brilliant. fearless. everything they hated. I wanted to shove it in their faces. to show them I could love someone they’d never accept.

but here’s the part I don’t know how to make you believe:

it stopped being about them a long time ago.

I fell in love with you. I didn’t plan to, didn’t expect to, but I did. and I know that doesn’t erase how we started. I know that if I’d been a better person back then, I would have seen you for who you are instead of what you represented. but I see you now. and I swear to you, there isn’t a single thing in this world I care about more than you.

I don’t expect you to forgive me. but if there’s even the smallest chance that you believe me, that you could maybe—not today, not tomorrow, but someday—let me prove that this was real… then I’ll wait.

forever, if I have to.

Sirius

the parchment crinkles in your hands as you finish reading. the words sit heavy in your chest, but all you can focus on is one thing.

“I know that if I’d been a better person back then, I would have seen you for who you are instead of what you represented.”

because that’s exactly it, isn’t it? if he hadn’t needed to rebel, he wouldn’t have looked at you twice. he can say he loves you now, but would he ever have loved you if not for them? if not for spite?

your throat burns as you fold the letter, setting it aside like it might hurt you if you hold it too long.

you don’t sleep that night.

your mind won’t let you. not with his words echoing over and over, not with the question you don’t know how to answer.

does it even matter?

the morning after, Sirius arrives at breakfast, hoping to see you. his eyes scan the Great Hall, searching for any sign of you, but you’re nowhere to be found. his chest tightens. did you even read the letter? did you toss it aside without a second thought?

the uneasy feeling follows him all the way to first period. then, just as he and the other Marauders head down the corridor, he spots you.

before he can think, he moves towards you, but Remus catches his arm.

“wait, are you sure that’s a good idea?” Remus asks carefully.

Sirius shrugs him off. “I just want to talk.”

before anyone else can stop him, he’s running after you.

he catches up easily, reaching for your wrist, and you freeze at his touch.

“can we talk?” his voice is quiet, almost pleading.

you hesitate, your eyes darting to the students passing by. then, shaking your head, you pull away.

“I’ll be late for class.” the words are clipped, and before he can protest, you turn and leave.

Sirius stands there, stunned. he thought the letter would fix things—or at least help. instead, it feels like nothing has changed.

behind him, James places a hand on his shoulder. “give it time, mate.”

Remus sighs. “just… give her some space.”

Sirius doesn’t reply. he can’t.

but he doesn’t listen, either.

in class, he tries to catch your attention, but you keep your gaze forward, refusing to acknowledge him. when he leans closer, whispering your name, you sigh.

“fine,” you murmur. “after class.”

it’s not much, but it’s something.

the moment class ends, Sirius is at your side. “listen, I’m sorry, I—” he doesn’t waste time, doesn’t give you the chance to slip away again.

you glance around. “not here. let’s talk somewhere private.”

he nods immediately. “alright.”

you walk in silence until you find an empty corridor, away from prying eyes. the tension is thick, pressing against Sirius’ chest, and he hates it. he hates the distance, hates the way you’re looking at him like he’s someone you don’t quite recognise anymore.

“I wrote you a letter,” he says when you stop.

“I know. I read it,” you reply.

“I meant every word,” he rushes out, his voice urgent. “I love you. I—”

“I believe you.”

the words stun him into silence.

he expected resistance. doubt. maybe even anger.

but this?

“then why—”

“because that’s not the point.” you take a deep breath, looking at him like you’re waiting for him to understand. “you love me now. but if you didn’t need to prove a point—if you hadn’t needed an easy, convenient person to use—you would have never even looked at me.”

Sirius shakes his head. “that’s not—”

“think about it,” you cut in. “really think about it before you say anything.”

silence stretches between you.

and then, without another word, you turn and walk away.

Sirius watches you go, a sinking feeling settling deep in his chest.

because he does think about it.

and for the first time, he doesn’t like the answer.

[lackablazeical]

It would be fun to see the fusion AU mixing different brothers, Kenichi and Raph, Ichida and Leo, Chizu and Mikey, Donnie with Usagi, etc etc etc, it’s interesting to think abt what fusions would be most stable depending on who they’re fused with.. such a fun concept to me!! I personally think the original Chizu & Raph, or really any Raph or Chizu fusion, would be the most stable ones, but in regards to the other brothers I feel like Leo and Kenichi, Mikey and Ichida, and Donnie and Usagi would be the most stable solutions for them all.. but they’re also probably gonna have issues too

Ok so this is gonna be a long post deal with it OK SO

Raph Fusions -

Rizu - The most stable of any rabbit/turtle fusion, Rizu is the ultimate big sister. She is protective and nurturing, always there to give hugs and support. Though she's not someone you want to cross, he can still very easily rip you in half.

Rashi - Rashi is THE himbo jock, combining Ishida's energy with Raph's strength. A bit cocky but motivational and friendly, the fusion often only gets destabilized when Ishida wants to persevere whereas Raph wants a nap.

Rasagi - A bit of an agorophobe, Rasagi keeps to Rasagi. Rasagi can most often be found hiding in dark areas or at the bottoms of swimming pools to enjoy some quiet time. Rasagi is very stable though! Unless Rasagi is being perceived.

Raphchi - Raphchi is... a tough case. Both components are stubborn, so they're like talking to a wall. Competitive and a massive stickler for rules, it's suggested to NEVER have a board game night with this guy. But it will always speak its mind and defend its loved ones. Also, it's a natural at sumo wrestling.

Leo Fusions -

Lhizu - Lhizu is a loving (smothering) girl who just wants to show everyone how much she cares. Can most often be found sewing with spider silk or sharpening one of her many knives. Becomes unstable when matters of healing come up.

Leish - What do you get when you cross a hidden city bachelor with a delusional stalker? Leish!! Leish is a smarmy and shallow guy, always quick to move on to the next person who has caught his attention. He is always ready to belittle anyone who isn't interested in him or to show off. Becomes unstable around potential partners.

Leosagi - Egotistical through and through. Barely looks away from anything that is reflective, and if he does, it probably means someone is going to die. Always preening and praising itself, Leosagi is often in their own little world. While extremely unstable (uncoordinated movements/speech, extreme mood swings, etc), they will stay fused unless forced apart by a third party.

Leechi - The WORST theater kid ever. Leechi (or 'leech') is an obsessive girl. Always having a person of interest to obsess after and follow around, with the goal of mimicking them perfectly. They copy routines, habits, any of it, often leading to situations like them acting out someone's breakfast routine at 2 am. Hides second face to seem more normal to potential crushes.

Donnie Fusions -

Dozu - Snakelike and unstable, Dozu is a rough one. With science and religion at war inside them, Dozu is often spastic and confused. She often enjoys dissecting things and then regretting it, wherein she tries to put them back together (usually with a few mismatched parts.) They are very unstable especially in lab/social settings.

Donnida - A friendly and chipper guy hiding away an evil scientist. Chatty to the max, Donnida has a natural talent for lowering people's guards or convincing them of things. Most often he uses these trusting people in experiments. Evil is extremely proud of evils collection of specimens gathered.

Donsagi - A total agorophobe, it is rare this fusion ever leaves the dark room they hide away in. They prefer pondering philosophy or playing VR to the real world. They create drones to do things like interact with others or gather 'necessities' like food and water (and the important USB cables).

Kennie - A brilliant mind! Kennie loves to learn and create, especially things like mechanics, architecture, astronomy, and history. Dey are always knee deep in projects, always busy and planning, but that's the fun part! The fusion tends to destabilize over deir burnout though. Ken and Don do not agree what self care means

Mikey Fusions -

All of these fusions will have excess mystic Magic from Mikey btw

Mikzu - A witchy gal!!! A lover of all things Halloween and spooky. When not eating candy apples or sewing on new parts, she's typically turning someone into a frog. A total manic pixie dream girl icon. Her lilypad hat holds liquid mystic energy, which often spills out during her antics and leaves chaos in her wake.

Mishida - The adrenaline junkie of the century. Only knows how to do, not think. Scales buildings or jumps down obscured pits just for fun, and always comes back with a trophy of victory and another ego boost. Most often found dancing. Stability typically lowers if Ishida and Mikey have conflicting priorities. Also he may tend to be a bit shocking to others lmao

Mikesagi - a walking train wreck. Clumsy, ditzy, and scared, it's a wonder they manage to stay together at all. Most commonly found tripping over their own feet or talking to himself. Highly unstable, so much so that it's hard to get info on them! Their belt is how Mikey's mystic energy vents out. The hands aren't super nice tho, usually just throwing things or flailing

Michi - a chill, laid-back guy. Sort of a stoner cousin vibe, Michi is just here for a good time. Always willing to hang, even if it's just to be lazy or to commit some type of felony. A foux-intellectual, just says buzzwords that make it sound smarter than they are. Smells faintly of incense at all times. Destabilizes around Leo or Usagi.

[xxsycamore]

LIGHTS, CAMERA, ACTION

╰┈➤🎥 Filming with Liam Evans is a dream come true. Every line he delivers, every small movement of his sculptured forms… you're far too immersed to remain level-headed, and you're yet to see him naked. This can't be good.

Liam Evans x f!Reader • rating: E (MDNI) • tags: Porn Star AU; Porn actors; Porn Video; mentions of burglary and stalking (from the porn plot); Celebrity Crush; Cunnilingus; Oral Sex; Vaginal Sex • wordcount: 1,558 • masterlist

a/n: Special thanks to Liz (@candiedcoffeedrops) for the porn plot idea and to Drac (@drachonia) for enabling me so much. It's been a hot minute since I've been able to write anything, thank you for the encouragement guys <3

Visions of Temptation 2024/KINKTOBER DAY 1: Porn Actors AU

"Now, we can settle things nice and peacefully here, can't we? You can go ahead and call the cops on me for burglary, or you can let me try and change your mind first."

The unexpected offer nearly cracks your resolve, tense facial muscles twitching as your brow rises up just a tad. You're willing to listen, and the man in front of you notices that. He tilts his head to the side in a playful manner, unsuited for the severe situation.

"Don't try to hide it. I know your bed has been awfully empty lately…"

It definitely was a mistake, giving him the opportunity to speak. You know this must have been him collecting information for his planned theft but the thought of being stalked like this still sends unpleasant shivers down your spine. In lieu of a weapon, you hold on tighter to the phone in your hand, shooting daggers at the stranger in your bedroom. Crossing your arms in front of your chest, the long sleeves of your luxurious pink home robe suited for the lady of the house flutter around you.

"You have five seconds to change my mind."

His eyes widen slightly upon your proposition, just enough to show that enchanting magenta color. He approaches you with a feline step, and you do your best to be sturdy despite the growing anticipation. What would he do?

He gambles with his time. Whatever his course of action, he wastes too many seconds staring right into your eyes, and too little for anything else. And again, why are you hoping for anything else? He's closer now. You give no signs of resistance, and so he doesn't hold back.

A pair of lips land on your own. You don't dare breathe, and he doesn't dare invade your mouth - he's just there, a hot breath, a butterfly-light touch.

"I can treat you to some good time, and then you'll let me go. How does it sound? Think about it."

He whispers that in your ear. In response, you just slowly withdraw and take a look at him.

"And…Cut!"

A voice coming from behind you nearly makes you jump, forcing you right back into the reality of your surroundings. You got caught a little too much into that opening scene, but can you be blamed? Filming with Liam Evans is a dream come true. Every line he delivers, every small movement of his sculptured forms… you're far too immersed to remain level-headed, and you're yet to see him naked. This can't be good.

His role in this adult movie is not far from his usual repertoire. While he can transform into pretty much everything that's thrown at him, this bad-boy look fits him remarkably. A burglar breaking and entering into your home, bribing you with some good time, fully well knowing the risk he's taking and being just that confident in his skills. Liam is even more flawless when you're seeing him act up close. You're able to notice so much more this way - the way adrenaline colors his features, the daring gaze as he plays with fire - it's almost as if he's experiencing the thrill firsthand.

"You're both brilliant, I'm telling you! We'll begin the next scene with you two on the bed in the middle of undressing. Remember, Liam, nothing is decided yet. You have to win her over, to earn your freedom. Serve her like she's your mistress. You're entirely at her will!"

Tom's enthusiastic hand gestures make Liam speed up gulping the contents of his water bottle just so he can laugh at the director. You can't help but be sympathetic, he hardly needs those details after all.

"I think we got it, Tom." Liam pats his friend on the shoulder, yet his eyes never seem to leave yours. "We should keep going!"

In the commotion of spotlights being moved around the queen-sized bed in haste and cameras getting in position, you manage not to miss the intriguing little detail that Liam doesn't need any "preparation". It's hardly your first time being on set, yet you can't recall your male co-star getting a hard-on from a cliched prelude to the act…and one innocent kiss. But this really is happening, as everyone including you gets in position, and you can all but see the bulge in Liam's pants in your peripheral vision.

The camera starts rolling, however, and all you can focus on right now is making out with Liam. His hands are quickly put to work, and you know it will only get harder to be mindful of limbs blocking the view when he robs you of your concentration like that. Your robe pools on the bed around you, and Liam already has his face shoved in your chest, taking noisy mouthfuls of breather as he kisses your hot skin.

The contrast of him carefully taking off your underwear versus haphazardly discarding his own clothing only highlights how focused he is on serving you. The skillful tip of his tongue turns your nubs into hard peaks as he toys with your breasts.

By the time you're both fully nude and in the middle of another passionate kiss, your withdrawal is combined with a hand making its way towards Liam's beautiful hardness. Your insides throb at the sight of it, mind occupied with thoughts about having it inside you. Last time you had a good look at it, he was on the screen on your phone, and your hand was inside your underwear. Even now that this same hand is caressing him, you find it hard to believe…

Wait, you're not supposed to do that.

Anxiety materializes heavily in your chest, almost choking you out as you expect to hear an abrupt pausing of the scene. Feeling Liam's gaze on you, you return it, albeit with little expectation - and the shock on your features is genuine when Liam takes hold of your hand, and then of your other one, and pins you down to the bed.

He's improvising. Even if he was instructed to be completely at your mercy…

Next thing you know, Liam's head moves down between your parted legs until you find your hot centered attacked by his tongue. You sense a camera closing in to capture his performance between your legs and while in the throes of pleasure, you seem to realize this didn't spoil the scenario at all. The slight change in your dynamics doesn't mean Liam isn't as starved to please you as he was in the beginning - what's more, the measured amount of dominance in the simple gesture should be just enough to make the viewers go crazy.

You know it because it works on you.

Not a prisoner to your own worries anymore, you have little to do other than receiving Liam's masterful methods at making you soar to the heavens. The last thought lingering in your mind before you orgasm is that there simply can't be any co-star of his that has ever had to fake this.

As per the script, you have to let him pleasure you like this for some time until you start begging to be fucked - which proves to be as easy as breathing at this point, and the moment he pierces you with his cock, you can't help the full body shiver that runs through you rather noticeably. What was he bribing you for, again? Your heroine can't remember. All she cares about right now is taking her full of this handsome stranger.

Soon Tom announces another cut and you internally lament the loss of the perfect doggy position Liam had you in. For the money shot, Liam is to take you in missionary, pulling out last minute to ejaculate across your belly. You wish this burglar was a little more daring, but alas, you're not the director.

White hot takes over your vision as your head tosses back, eyes squeezed shut, orgasming one last time for the session. You don't relax just yet though, playing your next line in your head to make sure you remember it, even as you sense the hot emission of Liam's come land across your front all the way to your heavying chest. Tom is going to be happy with how this turned out.

"So? Did I manage to change your mind?"

Turning towards the smug expression looking forward to your response, you card your fingers through your disheveled hair and smirk back at him.

"I'm afraid you're in far deeper trouble now."

Despite the indication for round two, a direction who's not you decided this is where the film should end. Fair. Either way, you're likely going to feel that in your bones all the way to your home, and likely after that too.

A hand appears in front of you and you see Liam standing up next to the bed, offering you a handshake.

"Hope to work with you again someday."

You raise from your sitting position and accept his hand, giving him your best smile despite your quickening heartbeat. "Likewise. You're amazing, Mr. Evans, I hope to get close to your proficiency someday!"

Liam chuckles, leaning in just one step closer as he lowers his voice. "Just Liam is fine. And if you need any help, advice, practice, anything, just get in contact with me, okay?"

Practice…?

"Will surely do so!"

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