#and irritating that they are calling them ‘experiments’ and ‘studies’

[darkwood-sleddog]

Sorry y’all the entire Clever Hans wiki article should be basic required reading at this point.

The “Clever Hans” effect, also understood as animals performing tasks because their handler/owner subtly and often unknowingly cues them that they’ll get a positive response is well documented. Hell, it’s been observed in drug sniffing dogs where the dogs will give false positives based on the dog’s observance of the handler’s body language. Scientifically that’s very interesting.

Dogs using buttons are not “speaking” they are using what they know will get them a desired response. Dogs do speak, to us and each other, in their own form of communication (body language mostly). We as humans are adept at being able to learn to read this just as dogs can read OUR body language (body language we often don’t know we are communicating btw). That’s neat as heck.

[satoshy12]

Medic Danny + DC

Danny doesn't to Phantom , as it would stand out that while Fenton is gone Phantom is at same place. And he doesn't want to fight.

While on a vacation in the States, Danny utilized his ghost ice to freeze his parents' portal, ensuring the safety of Amity Park during his absence. Just to make sure Amity Park is okay while he is gone.

With the help of Wulf's teachings, he traveled around the world using a portal, eliminating the need for a plane or expensive travel costs.

However, his travels were interrupted by the constant need to provide first aid to injured individuals in cities such as Gotham, Metropolis, Star City, Coast City, and Detroit.

Danny had to perform first aid on many people while visiting the cities.

He could say he had helped more than 200 people already. He stopped to count after helping so many people that it kind of happen so many times while the summer vacation. But was happy to be able to help them all.

Upon returning to the border of Amity Park using his portal, Danny discovered that the entire town was at peace, as the ghosts had stopped causing trouble.

As he returned home, he noticed the whole town was doing a Ba Sing Se.

Although his parents were irritated with their frozen portal, Amity Park was happier. And while his parents were angry and didn't give up trying to melt the ice. Amity Park was happier, and Danny could use his own portal to visit the zone. So he left the portal and lab on ghost ice.

However, when Danny suddenly vanished, people began to search for the small but skilled first-aid provider.

+++

After Danny was suddenly out of the radar, people noticed and started to search for the tiny, thin boy.

The people who had met Danny were really distressed by the amount of first-aid skill he possessed. It spoke of experience that someone so young shouldn't have.

Amanda Waller was pretty interested in him. After all, the boy had helped her and her daughter when they almost became casualties of a Superman vs. Brainiac fight. So she called her agents to search for the boy.

JL meeting

Green Arrow called DIBS on him, and he would sponsor him for the future when he wants to study.

Bruce himself said the same as he noticed they all talked about the same boy. Superman wanted to thank Danny because he saved many lives while Kal was busy fighting against Brainiac.

Flash only met him once, and because of how fast Barry was, he just brought the wounded to the hospital because it was much faster.

The few heroes who didn't meet him listened to them argue.

Having no idea that few villains who Danny helped too, as civilians were having a similar moment.

[froggibus]

hiiiiiii i just wanna say i love ur work so much. i was wondering if i could request a jason todd hurt/comfort fic. i recently had a really scary experience outside of a bar, and it has been taking a toll on me. maybe something like reader and jason fight over something silly, and then something like that happens to reader and he comforts them after and feels bad about the fight before? with a lot of fluff and reassurance. maybe he gives them a bath or something:) THANK YOUUUU

Never Let Me Go - Jason Todd

Pairing: Jason Todd x gn! reader

Genre: hurt/comfort, angst -> fluff

Word Count: 2.3k

Summary: after an argument with Jason, you're left to fend for yourself outside of a bar

CW: attempted assault, attempted SA, chasing, slight violence, dissociation/shock (reader), arguing, alcohol, hurt/comfort, pet names (Jason calls reader baby/hun), bathing together, jason is snarky at first

sorry this took so long! really hope you're feeling better, but if you (or anyone else reading this) ever need to talk, my inbox is always open <3 i talk about my own struggles with ptsd on this blog, and i want everyone to be able to feel safe enough to talk about theirs, too

i tried to keep the assault scene short and brief, but i've also added cuts before and after in case anyone would like to skip it.

(title slightly based on this song)

“You know that stuff is pure sugar and no alcohol, right?” 

You roll your eyes when Jason gestures to your drink with a look of distaste, hiding his snark behind the rim of his glass. You’re tempted to remind him that the foamy beer he’s pounding back has even less alcohol than your Cosmo, but think the better of it. He’s in a bitchy mood, and there’s no point making it worse.

He’d gotten into a fight with Bruce the night before, and had practically gone on a rampage through Gotham’s underground. The anger radiated off of him still when he’d showed up at your apartment an hour earlier, even after he’d flashed you a tense smile and planted a tentative kiss to your lips.

You’d told him at least three times since then that he didn’t have to come with you—given the bar was around the corner from your home, and you could stumble home from it drunk, backwards and in your sleep—but Jason had insisted. As if you ever thought Jason would be able to relax knowing you’re out at a bar in the heart of Gotham, despite your assertions that you would only be having a couple drinks and maybe some chili fries.

You swish your glass around, watching the raspberry coloured booze slosh on the sides. “We can go home if you’re not feeling up to this,” you say gently. “I don’t mind.”

He gives his broad shoulders an irritating shrug. “You wanted to get out of the house, we’re out of the house.” 

Though he doesn’t say it, you can hear the unspoken words crackling through the air. What more do you want from me?

“But do you want to leave?”

Jason’s eyes narrow, black pupils forcing out imperial blue. “I go where you go.”

It takes more effort than you’d like to admit to resist tugging at your hair. Though it’s been years since he lived in Wayne Manor, and even longer since he studied under Bruce, the lessons he learned have never left him. Including this form of aggravating, diplomatic speech where his answers gave no answers at all.

“Whatever,” you sigh under your breath, crossing your legs and tilting your body back to your drink.

Jason scoffs, “whatever? Really?”

“Yes, really!” You’re grateful that the mix of conversations and the drone of 90s rock are loud enough to cover up your rising voice. “I just wanted to get out of the house for once and you’re being mean.”

“I’m being mean?” There’s a cruel smirk on his lips. “The only reason I’m here is because of you, so that you wouldn’t have to be alone.”

“I never asked for that.”

Your heart races painfully in your chest. You’ve never liked arguing, especially not in public when the both of you have been drinking and especially not when Jason is already chafing under the expectations of others. It’s a nightmarish combination that leaves electricity sizzling in the air and everyone in the room on edge.

He chugs the rest of his beer, not even bothering to wipe away the tiny bit of white foam that catches on the shadow above his upper lip. “Fine then,” he grumbles, and tosses a fifty onto the counter. “I’ll see you.”

He leaves no room for protest, already barreling his way through the tables. By the time you’ve even processed what just happened, he’s already at the door, back muscles tensing beneath brown leather as he yanks it open hard enough to shake the hinges.

You wait until you hear the familiar rev of his motorcycle before ordering another round.

It’s late by the time you decide to pay your tab and head home. Your phone has long since been dead weight in your pocket, but even if it weren’t, you wouldn’t have bothered to check it. There was a part of you that hoped Jason would come back, that he would apologize, but that part is about as dead as your phone is.

It’s brisk outside now, and cold rain sprinkles from above. The dark rain clouds block out the moon, dim flickering street lights the only light you can see. You take a long, deep breath that clouds the air as you release it, rubbing your freezing forearms. Home is just around the corner, but that’s still an eight minute walk. Minimum.

A groan slips past your lips as you lean against the outside of the building, peering into the dark streets for any sign of a cab. A rock skids across the ground to your left and you snap your head in the direction it came from.

A man saunters towards you, his body encased in shadows. “Need a ride?”

A shiver rises up your spine. You shuffle further to your right, trying to put more distance between you and the stranger. 

He doesn’t take the hint. He moves closer, purposefully slamming his boots harder into the ground to get your attention. “I said,” he repeats, “do you need a ride?”

“No,” you swallow hard, adding a quick, “thank you.”

You don’t know this man, but you despise him. You despise his imposition, the southern twang of his voice, the fact you’re instinctually polite to him so that you don’t risk pissing him off.

Despite your plea, he keeps coming towards you. “I reckon you do.”

The alarm bells in your head start to shriek. You shove off of the wall, stumbling only slightly before you regain your balance and take off down the sidewalk. It’s dark and though you can no longer see him when you glance over your shoulder, you can hear the pounding of his boots on the pavement behind you.

And then his cold, clammy hands lock around your wrist and tug you hard. You strain against his grasp, using your entire body weight to get away, to go anywhere but here.

He’s so close you can smell the alcohol on his breath, feel the warmth of his body. Not warm the way Jason is, but warm the way a fire you shouldn’t go near is. You cry out desperately. The bar is still within sight, someone has to come out, someone has to see.

“Why not just let me show you a good time?” He says, “I’m a really nice guy if you give me a chance.”

You drive your elbow into his arm and his grip loosens enough for you to tug away. You rip your wrist from his grasp, but as you do, you lose your balance and crash onto the dirty, wet Gotham pavement. With how cold you are and the adrenaline your heart is furiously pumping through your body, you barely feel the impact.

You can’t see the expression on his face as you drag yourself across the pavement, but you hear a low chuckle. You imagine it’s similar to that of a wolf zeroing in on its prey.

And then, a booming voice cuts through the darkness. “What the fuck are you doing?”

Jason sounds pissed, but it's maybe the most beautiful thing you’ve ever heard. The most beautiful string of words in the English language.

The man spins on his heels away from you just in time to catch a harsh uppercut to the face. A loud crack reverberates through the buildings, and he goes down like a sack of potatoes on the concrete next to you.

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, looking up at Jason through your lashes. “You’re—how?”

“Oh, baby. Baby, baby,” he sighs, dropping to his knees on the pavement next to you. His new jeans are probably ruined from touching the ground—as are yours—but that seems to be the least of his concerns right now.

He cradles your head in his lap, his hands trailing up your damp, aching skin for any sign of injury. You shiver, closing your eyes and letting Jason hold you. The adrenaline flooding your veins has not yet diluted, and the calloused warmth from Jason’s hands is the only thing keeping you from floating away.

“I didn’t leave, baby, would never leave you. I was waiting around back when I heard you and,” he sighs, “I’m so sorry.”

His words are faint, so faint, and more gentle than you’ve ever heard him speak. Though he clutches you tightly to him, the feeling registers as barely a whisper. And then you’re on your feet, propped up against his side as he helps you back to where he propped his bike.

Your mind is somewhere else now. You’d have completely forgotten about your own body if it weren’t for the frantic, rhythmic shove of Jason’s heart against his ribcage with every step you take.

You’re not sure how you got back to your apartment, but you’re sure it was through no small effort on Jason’s part. Your waist is warm from where his hand rests—he’s refused to let you go for even a moment since he saw you on that pavement. 

You shiver violently even after you return to the warmth of your home. Jason had wrapped you in his jacket but even that did little to stop the shaking. 

He cups your face, a soft intensity in his eyes. “Let’s get you warmed up, hm?”

You barely react to his touch, or to his words. It doesn’t take a genius to know you’re in shock—Jason’s seen it more than enough times in his lifetime to recognize it at a glance. 

The shivering, that faraway and glassy look in your eyes, the way your lips move as if they’ll form words but no sound comes out. Your pupils themselves have almost doubled in size from the adrenaline coursing through your system. 

He’d take the crowbar a thousand damn times if it meant he would never have to see you like this. He would give away all that he has, and all that he is, to never subject you to this kind of pain.

“I’ll be right back,” he says, and starts towards the dark hallway leading to your bedroom and bathroom.

You let out a choked gasp—the most sound you’ve managed since earlier—and Jason whips around. Blue eyes snap to yours, looking more like broken glass through the tears catching on your own lashes. 

Don’t leave, you want to say. Not even for a minute, not even for a second. But your words fail you, and all you have to fall back on is a gasp of air and the tears in your eyes.

Jason understands, though. “Let’s go together, then.”

He grabs one of your hands in his, and holds your waist with the other. You walk like that down the hall, Jason holding you tight and guiding you to your bathroom. He helps you settle down on the toilet seat while he runs a hot bath.

Jason has you sit on the side of the bathtub, only your bare feet resting in the warm water. He sits with you, his legs on either side of your own and his arms around your waist. Already, the shaking has subsided and your eyes have started to clear. Relief floods his system, wiping away the guilt that’s been bubbling in his stomach.

He waits a few minutes, before saying, “let’s get you out of those clothes and into the bath.”

It’s posed more like a question, his fingers tracing inquisitive circles on your hip. He’s asking, you realize, if it would be okay for him to help you undress. If you’re comfortable being naked in front of him right now. The kindness of the gesture has your shoulders dropping from your ears.

“Y-yeah,” you manage.

Jason keeps his touch firm, steady, while he peels your dirty shirt over your head. He has you raise your feet above the water so he can help you with your pants and underwear, discarding your clothes in a pile on the tiled floor. 

He squeezes your shoulders reassuringly when he sees you hesitate at the side of the bathtub before finally stepping in and letting your aching body settle in the warm water. 

It’s an immediate relief. The chill your skin has taken on, the ice running through your blood, starts to defrost. 

Jason watches you relax into the warm porcelain, your impossibly tense muscles finally loosening. “Feeling any better?” He asks quietly.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble quietly.

He grabs a washcloth from the drawer beneath the counter. “Hey, none of that.”

“I just,” you take a deep, shaking breath, “if we had never gone out tonight, none of this would have happened and you wouldn’t have had to help me and—”

Jason splashes warm water over your head. “None of that,” he repeats. “I don’t want to hear any of that.”

“But—”

“Nothing that happened tonight was any fault of yours.” He brushes the wet washcloth across your face, wiping away stray tears. “You did nothing wrong. I should never have left you, plain and simple.”

“It’s not your fault either, Jay.”

He strokes the washcloth over your forehead. “I’m supposed to protect you, hun. I didn’t do a very good job of it tonight.”

“Get in here with me?” You clutch his forearm.

He chuckles. It’s been a very, very long time since Jason Todd could comfortably fit in a normal sized bathtub, but for you, he’d do anything. He’s  gentle climbing in the bath behind you, propping his legs around the outside of yours so you can comfortably lay back on him.

It’s a cramped fit, it couldn’t possibly be comfortable for anyone—but Jason sucks it up for your sake. Despite the ways his knees ache from the angle he keeps his legs, it all feels worth it when you lay your head on his chest.

“Thank you for being here,” you say quietly.

He plants a gentle kiss on the top of your head. “For you? Anything.”

And you know he means it.

(if you enjoy content like this, interactions go a long way! comments, likes & rbs are always greatly appreciated ^-^ !!)

Masterlist | DC Masterlist

[carionto]

It's boring when it's not dangerous

It has been some time since a Coalition research station welcomed a Human aboard. One reason is, as always, bureaucracy, but the other is the horror stories.

You cannot leave a Human unsupervised, in general. Give them access to machines and chemicals, maximize safety precautions. And if one of them is a biologist? Absolute isolation, quarantine, and fumigation protocols.

One time there was a Human named Josh Griesman Jr who was finally approved to experiment with a selection of non-Earth origin bacteria. Just some harmless ones found on skin and chitin that eat detritus from external sources, such as dust, or produced by the host body, very similar in function to what Humans have in spades on their skin.

Initially all was well, he studied how they function, how the chemical composition of what they eat and excrete compares to Human bacteria, life span, reproduction rate, all standard science stuff. Then one day he created a special tray.

He made 64 petri dishes with variants of each of the bacteria species he had access to. We were wondering what he'd been up to holed up in his lab for the past three days. He placed the young colonies in a circular pattern on the tray. That's when we noticed the small lines connecting them in pairs to larger dishes filled only with nutrient solutions.

"I call it "The Bacteriophile Tournament"!" Josh announced proudly. He clearly had not slept well. "I didn't have time for sleep, this is driven by pure scientific curiosity! And caffeine. Laced with my own special formula. I WILL SLEEP WHEN I NEED TO. Right now I need to start this competition."

With that burst of loudness, a small drone went around the tray and drilled a hole in each petri dish, exposing them to the channel leading to the delicious liquid, and their competitors. Then Josh passed out and had to be carried to the medical ward for malnourishment, light substance abuse, and sleep deprivation.

When he woke up two days later, he rushed over to his lab and the tray to find it had...

not done that much because bacteria move quite slowly and the initial colonies had not even fully saturated their starting habitat.

"Oh thank god, nothing's escaped." he sighed a deep breathe of relief.

We wondered what could possibly escape, and why would symbiotic skin bacteria escaping be cause for major concern.

"No, you don't get it. I knew they would grow slowly and probably not fight each other when they did meet, so I sorta changed their DNA a bit. You know, increased consumption and reproduction rates, heightened aggression, excrete irritants. I may have also, maybe, possibly, by chance, injected DNA from deadly Earth bacteria to see if that would work too. Luckily, it's fine! Yes, totally. it's actually quite disappointing now that I look at it. I thought for sure this one I added bits of cholera to would've grown bigger by now..."

We did not see it that way.

Since those samples had been left to their own devices for two days without anyone knowing about these dangers, everyone who did interact with the tray did so under the basic safety guidelines. Now the entire station had to be purified, all experiments neutralized for fear of contamination, and of course everyone had to endure two weeks of quarantine.

Thanks Josh.

[clavissionary-position]

(Translation) Gilbert's Beast Manual His POV Story

The final installment in Gilbert's current party event.

Spoilers. I'm not a translator, I just throw stuff into online translators, so expect errors. Case 1 | Case 2 | Case 3 (I recommend you read these beforehand for the full experience.)

Please be aware that this installment contains some heavier emotional content as well as sexual content later on—MDNI. As a final note, I recommend you have read Gilbert's proposal event beforehand. Just in case. (Technically I'd also recommend you have read his physical exam event too, but not to the same degree.)

—

I couldn't tell the little rabbit the real reason I had her accompany me on official business.

I'd most certainly earn a scolding and remonstration if I did.

I felt like I wanted to be scolded at least once though, since the little rabbit was the only one who could truly rebuke the conquering beast. However...

"I want the little rabbit to be able to survive in Obsidian even if by some chance I were no longer here."

Those were not words I could simply tell her, because I knew just how devastating they would be for her.

(That being said, today's been worse than ever.)

Crimes of the older generations continuing to go unchecked, signs of rampant bribery within the military...

The little rabbit's beautiful eyes were exposed to so many of these things.

(What is it about this country that when one rotten thing disappears, three more take its place?)

(Maybe everyone's got a death-wish. Yet they still beg for their lives once they're weeded out.)

(...It's incomprehensible to me. If only they'd all just die to save me the trouble.)

Emma: Gil, are we done with official business for the day?

My darkening thoughts must have breached containment; as the little rabbit walked beside me she entwined her fingers with mine.

Her warm hand permeated the cruelty staining across my heart.

Gilbert: I don't have any plans, but is there anything you'd like to do?

Emma: Is it alright if I come to your room? I feel like your bookshelves are calling for me.

Gilbert: Of course it's alright.

(...You probably have a lot to think over.)

Her face only spelled out joy. There was no deceit to be found.

She didn't change her usual demeanor, not even when faced with an irritable beast.

(I've known Walter and Roderic for a long time and even they're prone to checking my complexion on days like this.)

Of course that certainly didn't mean she hadn't noticed a thing.

In fact, the little rabbit, with her keen insight into other people's emotions, should have already pinpointed mine.

[flashback to Case 1]

Gilbert: Anyhow... was it written on my face?

Emma: ...Yeah, it was.

Gilbert: Hehe, well that's no good.

Emma: Isn't that what I'm here for?

Emma: To help give you even a little peace of mind?

[end flashback]

(That's what you said this morning, right?)

(...Truly, you're so gallant for a baby rabbit.)

The little rabbit immediately leapt at the books once she arrived in my room.

Although she'd probably learned by now that concentrating on the books alone would make this troublesome beast very jealous.

So she picked out only one before walking over to the bed and sitting down beside that beast.

Gilbert: ...What's this? Political science?

Emma: I felt like doing some studying today.

(Oh, I see...)

(Someone with a truly pure heart doesn't get tainted after experiencing filth. But rather, they lament their own helplessness.)

(...That's just so like the old me.)

A young boy who'd once learned about corruption and then tried desperately to change the status quo.

And after he'd finished reading all the books available within the country, he'd asked a book dealer to regularly procure ones from other places so he could vigilantly instill the knowledge into himself.

That was back when I'd still foolishly believed that no matter how corrupt a person was, there was an alternative to killing them as long as you engaged with them sincerely.

(Things didn't work out so nicely in the real world though.)

(...But I want the little rabbit to stay like this, just as she is.)

Gilbert: [smiling as he watches her read] ...

Emma: ...

Gilbert: ......

Emma: ......Gil.

The little rabbit looked up from her book, appearing as though she might cry.

Emma: Are there any easier political science books?

Gilbert: Ahaha... I knew it.

Gilbert: The book you're holding is so philosophical that even I found it difficult to understand.

Gilbert: Would you like me to recommend something aimed at beginners?

Emma: Yes, please, if you wouldn't mind!

Gilbert: And what should you do when begging me?

Without hesitation, the little rabbit placed her hands my shoulders and kissed my cheek.

Emma: ...Please, Gil.

Gilbert: It's boring if you do the same thing you always do.

Emma: Then how about...

When I sensed her trying to bite my ear, I pulled back.

Gilbert: Really now... So that's what you're gonna do.

Emma: Aren't you always biting my ear? It's a show of my affection.

Gilbert: But you're already aware though, of how sensitive my ears are?

Emma: ...

Gilbert: Oh, I almost forgot. I still have to discipline you.

Emma: ...W-what are you talking about?

Gilbert: Are you playing innocent? You still haven't made up for sneaking medicine into my food during lunch.

Emma: Um, I did make up for it!? Didn't you have your fun teasing me for it?

Gilbert: That was just a bit of playing around. You see, my real punishment—

I grabbed the little rabbit's hand as she tried to run and forced her onto the bed in a roll.

Just like that I gathered her wrists above her head and bound them with a nearby cloth.

(I hadn't really planned to do something like this...)

(But the little rabbit's been a bad girl, so I've got no choice.)

Emma: I was... going to study...

Gilbert: I'll have a beginner's book picked out for you by tomorrow.

Gilbert: Or rather, if you're interested, I can teach you myself? After all, training people is my forte.

I undid the collar of her dress and ran my fingers directly over her bare skin.

The little rabbit's cheeks turned as red as the sunset when I placed my hand over her breasts.

Emma: But don't you have things to do, Gil?

Gilbert: It's up to me how I choose to use my limited time.

Gilbert: You really don't have to be so overly anxious. If I can't manage, I'll say so.

(Although there's nothing that should be getting higher priority over the little rabbit's requests.)

The little rabbit started rubbing her legs together as I caressed her over and over again.

Purposely ignoring her mounting frustration was, of course, all part of the plan.

Emma: In that case... Thank you, Gil.

Gilbert: You've certainly got funny tastes to be saying thank you at a time like this.

Emma: That's not what I mean... mn... ah...

She suddenly let out a lewd cry when I lightly poked the hardened tip of her breast.

Emma: This afternoon, too, you...

Gilbert: I let you have your release right away this afternoon, didn't I? I wouldn't call that a punishment.

Emma: ...

Gilbert: It's no use being wistful either.

When I turned up the hem of her dress, I didn't even have to touch her to uncover the stain on her underwear.

Just a light swipe up the thin fabric and my fingertips came away damp.

Gilbert: Now then, you're going to have to suffer a lot.

Emma: ...At least... let me take my clothing off please.

Emma: I can't bear to... ruin the dress you made for me.

(Jeez, you truly are...)

Gilbert: I'm not listening to you.

Emma: Ah...

I thrust my fingers into her wetness as if I was trying to scrape out every last drop of nectar.

The dress pinned underneath her quickly became sullied.

Emma: Gil... mn...

Gilbert: If the dress gets dirty, you'll be just be reminded of something embarrassing whenever you put it on, won't you?

Gilbert: This is punishment, so you've got to resign yourself and accept it.

Emma: .......You're so mean.

Gilbert: And who exactly do you think I am?

(For the world's greatest villain to let you off with meanness and nothing else... that just means you're special.)

After the punishment, the little rabbit, thoroughly sullied, headed for the bath.

I honestly wanted to chase after her, but there was still work to be done today.

Roderic: Pardon me, sir.

Gilbert: I figured you'd come.

When I got to my office desk, Roderic immediately selected a document from the stack and handed it to me.

Roderic: ...I thought I might be turned away.

Gilbert: I'm in a good mood right now so I'll forgive you.

Roderic: That's surprising. I thought a storm would have been raging these past few days.

Gilbert: Ahaha, everyone has the little rabbit to thank for that.

Roderic: ...They can't thank her enough.

Gilbert: Neither can I.

I briefly glanced over the document before picking up my quill.

[I'm not gonna paste all the cutaways from the CG like I did in Case 3]

Gilbert: I see. So they've already completed their draft. Excellent, excellent.

Roderic: It seems experiencing your wrath this morning made them respond accordingly.

Gilbert: I'd like for them to submit the draft before it ever gets to that point next time.

Roderic: It's only because nobody can come up with out-of-the-box ideas like you.

Gilbert: They're all conclusions one can arrive at rationally. It's not like I'm making unreasonable demands of anyone.

(We're in trouble if they can't grow to the point where they can keep the older generations in check even without me.)

While talking, I read through the document and noted down points of concern.

Gilbert: ...Also, the draft was poorly-constructed. With this there's too gaps for us to drive that old man into a corner.

Roderic: Then I'll have it returned to you in such a way that we can.

Gilbert: I only appreciate haste. You help them too, Roderic. I'd like to have the contents finalized before our next regular meeting.

Gilbert: If we leave that old man unchecked, he may soon start a losing battle against neighboring countries.

(Up until now I'd left him to go and self-destruct on his own but... it was a promise to the little rabbit.)

Roderic: ...Understood, sir.

After completing my review, I handed it back to Roderic.

Gilbert: What's the next document?

Roderic: It's here, sir.

Gilbert: ...I know I keep asking, but is there more still?

Roderic: There's a mountain of things I'd like you to look over.

Gilbert: I thought I'd delegated my authority out.

(And it's not like they're even required to check in with me before proceeding.)

Roderic: This just means that Obsidian needs you.

Gilbert: That's certainly a problem.

Roderic: No, sir, it's not.

(I've got no intention of dying now that I've decided to live, but...)

(The everyday life that's persisted until today may not necessarily continue on tomorrow.)

(Because of the position I'm in, I have to assume the worst and act accordingly.)

Gilbert: ...[sigh] Unless we can get everyone past the idea that failure is some sort of capital crime, won't it be difficult for you and I to manage all this work on our own?

Gilbert: It seems like my presence is a hindrance after all.

Roderic: Please don't say that!

Gilbert: Fine, fine. If you don't like it, then go give out this PSA.

Gilbert: "As long as there's no fraud or corruption at work, I won't kill you over a simple failure. So please rely on your own judgement more."

Roderic: ...Very well, sir.

(Even so...)

I'd felt someone's passionate gaze trained on me even while we were talking.

The person in question may have believed they were well-hidden.

But I couldn't help but notice the hem of her negligee flickering from her hiding spot.

Roderic: ...Sir, let's deal with the rest of this tomorrow.

Roderic may have noticed as well since he was giving up on the rest of the documents.

Gilbert: Hey. You definitely didn't see anything, right?

Roderic: I saw nothing and I noticed nothing.

Gilbert: Is that so? That's fine, then. Thank you for your hard work.

(Narrowly escaped death, didn't you...?)

The door closed behind Roderic and I stretched out my arms as though to relax.

Gilbert: Now, then, little rabbit.

Emma: ...So you'd noticed me after all.

Gilbert: Well that's a given.

Once I beckoned, the little rabbit understood my request exactly and climbed onto my lap.

Gilbert: You were throwing Roderic such a passionate look.

Emma: I was looking at you!?

Gilbert: He was positioned in the same line of sight.

Gilbert: As you know, you have a very troublesome man on your hands. So you're aware of what you should do at a time like this, right...?

Emma: ......

The punishment from earlier seemed to have taken effect as the little rabbit kissed my lips instead of my ear.

I lightly bit her lip on her way out, imparting a bit of pain.

But rather than get angry, the little rabbit's eyes only seemed to soften with joy.

(Looks like I was able to soothe you after all.)

Emma: ...Did I interfere with your official duties?

Gilbert: [pouts] Roderic's the one who interfered. Showing up at this hour with documents for review.

Emma: That's probably because you were busy during the day.

Gilbert: [grins] Hehe... I showed you a lot of things I don't like about Obsidian today.

Emma: ...And I want to know about even more of those things from now on.

Emma: Because I'd like to be able to assist you as well.

Gilbert: Ahaha, that's reassuring.

(...Hm?)

The little rabbit had begun to frown as she spoke.

(Have I said something wrong?)

I hadn't the faintest idea what it could be, so I settled on comforting her for the time being by stroking her cheek, still warm from her bath.

Gilbert: You're pulling such a long face even though your words are so reassuring,

Emma: ...I wasn't lying.

Gilbert: I know that. So what's eating at you?

Emma: ...I can't really put it to words.

Emma: It's just... I'm envious of Roderic.

(......)

Emma: He's able to assist you more than me, and he knows everything...

(...So that's what was on your mind while you were eavesdropping.)

(The little rabbit is jealous of Roderic.)

(The sweet little rabbit of all people.)

Gilbert: Wow... I'll have to give Roderic a bonus.

There's no way I wouldn't be happy to be shown such love to the point of jealousy.

This was an event that completely overturned all the depressing stuff from today.

It was practically a miracle.

Emma: ...I get it now. So this is what you've been feeling all this time.

Emma: Hehe... What do I do? I'm really jealous here.

Jealousy was supposed to be a negative emotion by nature yet the little rabbit took it in as though it were a good thing.

I felt like she'd gotten a glimpse of how this beast dealt with his jealousy on a daily basis.

Gilbert: Serious jealousy is nothing like this though, you know?

Emma: Are you saying there's more to come?

Gilbert: Yeah. Your jealousy's in the early chapters.

Gilbert: The more and more you come to love me, the less you'll be able to contain that kind of adorable jealousy.

Emma: I'll work diligently then.

Gilbert: Hehe... I can't believe you've cheered up this much just from turning into a jealousy fiend.

(It's just like Roderich was saying. I definitely shouldn't have been able to show any kindness toward my surroundings these past few days)

And yet, what occupies my heart now at the end of the day is pure happiness.

(The reason I had Emma accompany me on official business was in preparation for a day that might possibly come...)

(At least that's what I'd thought, but perhaps in reality I'd only wanted to be healed.)

(...Nothing in this rotten world can change a thing about the beautiful world that Emma brings.)

(Maybe I'm just spoiled by the comfort in that.)

(...I may be a lot more dependent on Emma than I realize.)

When I laughed despite myself, Emma began to gently stroke my hair.

Gilbert: Taming the conquering beast is difficult, isn't it? But it might be easy for you.

Gilbert: Because I'm so madly in love with you.

(I'm sure I could cherish you endlessly.)

(That's why... I wish this daily life could go on forever.)

----------

Translation references: 無理矢理 1 | かと 1 2 | 感謝してもしきれません 1 | あなたなら 1

[tvgirllvr]

so incredibly new to writing. if you have any tips, pls let me know! this is a james potter smut, there’s a part 2 so lmk if y’all want it!

James Potter x Reader

Warnings: smut, praise kink, degradation kink, size kink?, there’s probably more idk.

There was always an uncomfortable relationship between you and James Potter. You guys had only had a few interactions, however, there seemed to be a mutual dislike.

Despite being in the same house, neither of you could find a reason to at least tolerate each other. Sometimes you wish he had been sorted into Slytherin so the relationship between you two was more justified. However, the more you thought about it, the faster you realized there was no scenario where you guys got along.

The petty feud started fourth year. You remember it clear as day. It was a potions lesson, and your nerves were already being pressed on. Slughorn hadn’t let the students choose their own partners for the lesson which already caused the students to be irritated. Looking down at your hands, your fingers were subconsciously crossed, hoping to receive a partner that didn’t make this class unbearable for the next hour and a half. The Gryffindors and Ravenclaws were being taught together that day so the best case scenario was getting partnered with someone not in your house who would do all the work correctly.

As Slughorn had begun assigning pairs, you about flinched when you heard your last name being spoken in the same breath as Potter’s. You guys were in the same house, but had never even spoken before. There were a few moments where you thought he might’ve been giving you a death stare, but that’s the closest to an interaction you guys have ever had. This had to be fun.

You let out a frustrating sigh, one Potter definitely heard. As you walked over to the desk that the professor had pointed at both of you too, you heard Potter mutter something under his breath.

“What was that?” You asked him.

“I didn’t say anything,” he said without looking up from his notes. “You did. I heard you.”

“Must’ve heard wrong.”

You rolled your eyes to where he couldn’t see and you sat down. You were in for a tough one. The rest of the lesson, and every other lesson you guys were paired up with, he did everything to ignore you. He avoided eye contact with you at all costs and never used your name when addressing you. It made you wonder if he even knew your name. After this experience, you had made up your mind about James Potter. You didn’t like him.

Flash forward to both of your last years, and the dislike remains. There were only a few more interactions between Slughorn’s lesson and the present, none of them being pleasant. That was until McGonagall had assigned you to help tutor Potter, especially with charms. With his record, there was no way he was going to pass his O.W.L.S., and even though you didn’t like him, you felt bad. You had agreed to tutor him once a week on Wednesdays before Quidditch practice. That didn’t sound like absolute hell, right?

“You’re late,” you called out.

“I know I’m late,” James replied very monotone.

“So you showed up late on purpose?”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“God,” you groaned with your face in your hands as he sat across from you. You decided the library was the best place to study, you question if he’s ever even been in a library before. He puts his books on the table, and the slam causes you to flinch and knock over your quill onto the floor.

“Fuck!” You quickly jumped up out of your chair to pick up the quill before it left a mark on the floor. You bent over, which happened to give Potter a nice view of your ass, and picked up the quill. When you turn back to him, he has a very composed face, but it’s red. It’s almost as if it’s too composed, like he’s hiding something. You sat back down and there was an uncomfortable silence for a few seconds.

“McGonagall said I needed help with charms,” James tried to explain, “I think I’m doing fine and don’t need help, but I guess it’s not my choice.”

“Well,” you paused for a second, “I assume if she wants me to help you, you need help. Also, um - can you just sit next to me? I’m not going to be reading textbooks upside down.”

“Yeah, that’s fine,” he said a little hesitantly. He moved next to you, but as he stood up, you got a clear glimpse of what was bothering him so much. It wasn’t as much charms, it was more like that massive hard on you had given him.

“Ha,” you let out.

“What?” He asked. He seemed insecure about the remark. “Nothing.”

“Tell me.”

“Better not. You hate me for a disclosed reason already, I don’t want to embarrass you,” you tried to explain. It was hard to keep a straight face during the conversation. James seemed to understand what you were getting at by the way he refused to make eye contact for the rest of the study session.

At the end of the hour, you two had gone over almost every charm that was going to be on the exam. You bent over the table to collect all the books you guys studied, and as you sat back down, you realized James’ eyes had been examining your body during the entire action. A sense of accomplishment ran through your body knowing that you had helped James, a sense that spread all the way down to in-between your legs. You wondered if there was anything else you could do to help him be less stressed for the O.W.L.S., and so came your most brilliant idea yet.

“Oh you’ve got to be fucking with me,” groaned James while looking at the window, it was pouring outside. “What? What’s wrong?” You wondered what has got him pissed now.

“Are you incompetent? It’s raining, meaning practice is canceled. That was the only reason I cared about this whole thing because I had something to look forward to after.” He said pouting.

“My God, would you stop it? Seriously, I spent a good chunk of my time helping your ass and you're still being shitty. It’s not like you hated the whole thing anyway...” You said, getting quiet towards the end.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’m talking about the boner in your pants that has been there since you walked in the room.”

There was silence. It was hard to tell if it was an uncomfortable one or not, but judging by James’ face, you assumed it was.

“I get it now,” you said.

“What is that you fucking get?” He replied, staring deep into your eyes. Fuck, why was he turning you on?

“I thought you hated me for so long. Come to find out that’s not the case. You can’t be by my side without getting fucking horny. Wow, that’s pathetic.”

“Don’t flatter yourself.”

“I think I will,” you teased, “you're too pussy to do anything about it anyway.” You walked to the opposite side of the table and leaned over it so you were facing him, giving him a glorious view of your breasts.

“Fuck,” he said under his breath, switching from looking down at your shirt to looking up at your eyes. “What’s the matter? Too much to handle Potter?” you mocked.

He stood up, grabbed your wrist, and dragged you out of the library. He didn’t even bother to grab any of his books or belongings. You felt your underwear getting wetter as you focused on the grasp he had on your arm, dragging you to his dorm. Instant relief came over both of you when nobody else was in the room. You both were standing side by side at this point. He had walked over to his bed and sat on it, staring at you.

You didn’t know what to do now. All you did know was that you wanted him to fuck you. You wanted him to treat you so good and so bad at once.

“Take your shirt off,” he said, staring into your eyes.

You paused for a moment, wondering if you should or not. If you said a sarcastic comment, would he make you leave? You thought it was too risky, you needed to make him feel good. So, you complied.

You slowly removed your low-cut shirt, revealing that you were wearing no bra in the first place. He sighs and grips his thighs, trying to control himself. He stands up again, walks over to you, and kisses you. It’s aggressive, it gets more aggressive as you feel him run a hand up to one of your breasts, pinching your nipple. You let out a small gasp and you feel him smirk on your lips. You run your hands down his chest until one of them reaches his cock, still clothed. You begin teasing him as you bite his bottom lip.

“Fuck, you have no clue baby. Those tiny fucking skirts you wear get me so worked up, I gotta go take care of myself once I see you for too long. Imagining how your slutty mouth would feel with my cock down your throat, I know you can take it all.”

After that comment, you felt a strong urge to prove him right. So with that, you got on your knees and began undoing his pants. God, this was everything you wanted.

As his dick sprung out of his underwear, your mouth formed an “O” shape. He was fucking huge. Long and thick. This only made the throbbing in between your legs worse.

“What’s wrong baby?” He asked, genuinely concerned.

“Nothing. Just - wasn’t expecting you to be this big I guess,” you replied quietly.

“Don’t be modest, I know you can take it,” he said in a reassuring manner. You were confident before, but after seeing the size of him, you weren’t sure.

You began to give kisses on his tip, gathering the precum that was already there. Running your tongue against him, up and down, and he let out a rewarding moan. You did your first attempt at swallowing him whole and you were half successful.

“Atta girl. Taking me so well, like you were made for this. Maybe I should study with you more often, whenever I get bored I’ll just have you sneak under the desk and make me feel good.”

You moaned with him in your mouth at the thought of that, being James Potter’s personal cockslut.

“I’m gonna fuck your throat, okay? I know you can take it. You love it I bet, being destroyed by my cock. Fuck, take it all baby - you’re so good - fuck,” he began to trail off as you kept still and he thrusted up into your mouth. You tried to breathe through your nose but you couldn’t stop yourself from gagging around him. That only seemed to turn him on more.

“Shit, you’re gonna make me cum. You’re gonna swallow it all baby?”

You pulled off of him for a moment, jerking him off, “Yes, please, I want it.”

“God, fuck - take it baby, fuck, you’re so good, shit,” he came in your mouth. Keeping eye contact with him, you open up to show the mess in your mouth, and swallow. You loved the taste of him, you needed it more often.

“Such a good fucking girl. Doll, get on the bed,” he said now on top of you. That was until there was a knock on the door.

“James, mate,” Sirius called out, ‘Why the fuck is this locked? Open it up, I gotta grab my jumper, it's freezing.”

‘Shit,” James said. “I’m sorry baby, I’ll make you feel good next time. Tomorrow? After practice?” He asked, almost begging.

“Yes,” you said, you couldn’t wait.

‘Open the fucking door Potter,” you heard Sirius say.

Both of you laughed, and as Sirius walked in, you snuck behind him. Nobody saw. It was just your guy’s

[queenshelby]

The Law Student (Rewritten)

Part Six: Green Genes

Pairing: Cillian Murphy (20) & Reader (30)

Note: This plays in 1996, just before Cillian drops out of law school.

Several days had passed until Thursday finally came around and, to you, it seemed as though, for the past few days, Cillian tried to make a point to be seen by you with Siobhan.  It felt as if each time you set foot in the school building, there they were - sitting in the same corner spot, hands intertwined on top of the table. He was always sending mixed signals in class, sneaking glances at you as if bursting with secrets – secret encounters, conversations, stolen kisses; whereas, afterwards, he was always quick to walk by Siobhan's side.

Watching him kiss her goodbye and whisper sweet nothings into her ear fueled your innate jealousy – fueling a burning sensation in your chest, an anger that pricked at the back of your neck.

The sensations, admittedly, were concerning – confusing even, because this wasn't the type of feeling you expected to experience. You felt disgusted at the thought of being so attached to, possessive of someone who, only a week ago, knew little more than your first name.

Yet here you were – fixated on these particular glimpses of the boy, each slightly more intimate than the last and, by the time he entered the lecture room for his tutoring session, you were almost vibrating with apprehension and the desperate need to sort through your tangled emotions.

Silence enveloped the room as you awaited the arrival of your student, and each second stretched into an eternity, further fraying your nerves. When you finally heard light footsteps coming from the hall outside, you glanced up to meet a pair of deep-blue eyes that pierced right through you, paralyzing your breath within your lungs.

"Hey,"  Cillian murmured, resting his knapsack onto his chair and directing an intense gaze toward you; a gaze that seemed to ignite a fire in the pit of your stomach.

"You are late ," you replied, your voice thicker than intended, and glanced back at your notes, attempting to ignore the flush spreading across your cheeks and the rapid beating of your own heart.

"Sorry, I lost track of time," Cillian's husky voice reverberated through the almost-empty room, and you couldn't help but notice how flushed his forehead remained.

"It's fine ," you sighed and averted your gaze, your thoughts ensnared between the apparent sexual tension between you and the of frustration building up within you. This boy was your student, and you were his professor, yet the boundary between teacher and pupil had grown thin.

As you glanced at Cillian, your eyes met his, and the sheer intensity in them evoked something within you-an urge to explore their depths until quenched, to satisfy your hunger.

"Now tell me, did you do the prescribed reading for the cases I have given you?" you asked coolly, trying to mask your tumultuous feelings. Cillian hesitated, shuffling his documents awkwardly.

"Well, most of it," he confessed, averting his gaze. "There was just so much material, and I had some assignments to prioritize," he added defensively.

Your irritation grew. Not only could you not fathom the idea of succumbing to this boy's sweet temptation, but you also resented his most recent lackadaisical attitude towards your class.

"You had assignments to prioritize?" you heard yourself repeat, incredulous. "Cillian, if I didn't know any better, I would assume that you are not taking this course seriously anymore after what happened between us. You haven't engaged in class all week and now-, " you began to say just as Cillian interrupted you. 

Cillian looked up, startled. "No, I am taking it seriously Y/N," he assured you, inadvertently calling you by his first name. "It's just that-well-there's a lot going on right now. Personal stuff, you know."

You couldn't help but raise an eyebrow. "You mean you have a girlfriend now, so your studies are less important?" you asked, unable to fully conceal the jealousy in your voice and this was something Cillian picked up on right away.

"Are you jealous?" he asked, his eyes gleaming with curiosity.

The words hung in the air, and you felt your face grow hot. "Of course not," you lied, trying to remain calm and collected. "I'm just, you know, never mind," you stammered, and Cillian looked at you skeptically, as if he could sense the lie behind your words. 

"So you are not jealous of me dating Siobhan?" he questioned you further, biting his lower lip playfully. His tone was flirtatious, baiting you towards losing your composure and giving away your true feelings.

However, your years of experience as a lawyer had taught you how to navigate delicate situations without losing your edge. Therefore, you responded to Cillian calmly, remaining composed.

"No Cillian, I am not jealous of your girlfriend. I am just concerned that your personal affairs will compromise your academic performance," you said plainly, avoiding his gaze.

He chuckled quietly, seemingly amused by your response. "Alright , if you say so." His voice carried an undertone of skepticism, and the way he looked at you made it clear that he didn't quite believe you.

Cillian let the topic drop, and the rest of the tutoring session went smoothly, with the two of you discussing legal concepts and case studies. Yet, even as you delved into complex intellectual discussions, you couldn't help but feel a persistent burn of jealousy in the back of your mind.

You pushed that pang of jealousy aside once more , focusing on the topic at hand.

Finally, the tutoring session ended, and Cillian packed up his belongings, offering a small, cryptic smile as he left the room.

That smirk ignited a spark in your mind, causing you to question his motives and intentions. But Cillian had left already, and you had no choice but to bury your thoughts for the time being.

***

The following day, after work, you were invited to meet up with a gathering of colleagues for drinks - the type of event you generally avoided. You disliked the cliquish environment and superficial banter. Still, tonight you found yourself agreeing to join them. Perhaps, you subconsciously sought some form of distraction; which always seemed in short supply recently.

The topics discussed over drinks however were far from interesting for you. Thus, after having listened to their recounts of court victories, academia bragging and tedious office gossip, you decided that it was best to step outside and call it a night.

The cold abruptly slammed against your skin, but the crisp air felt invigorating as you pulled out your Nokia to call a taxi home just as, out of the blue, you received a text message from your best friend Emma who was looking to catch up later that evening.

"Two for one drinks at Soho. Live Music. 9pm." was all Emma's message read, and although the idea of more socializing sounded exhausting, you also knew that a couple of drinks with your best friend might be exactly what you needed to take your mind off things.

You sent a quick reply and made your way to the small little bar in Cork where, much to your surprise, there was quite a crowd of young students.

"What is going on here?" you asked Emma who stood there, by the door, already nursing a drink.

"Some band's last gig, I think. Although, from what I have heard, they haven't played together for months,"  Emma shrugged her shoulders, gesturing towards the stage where a group of young musicians were setting up their equipment.

You glanced at them curiously and, sure enough, you spotted a familiar face on stage.

"Oh Jesus," you muttered under your breath, recognizing one of the guitarists and vocalists as none other than Cillian, his eyes closed tightly in concentration as he tuned his guitar.

Emma cast you a puzzled glance, suspicion forming in the furrow of her brow. "Do you know them?" she asked, and you hesitated, struggling with how to explain your connection to Cillian without divulging the drama that had unfurled between you two.

"Um, sort of. One of them is a student of mine," you finally settled on, which was technically true.

"Which one?" Emma's interest was piqued, and she looked over towards the stage with a mixture of curiosity and excitement.

"The one on the guitar, wearing a black t-shirt. His name is Cillian," you answered, feeling a bit self-conscious as you said his name out loud. 

"He's quite a good-looking kid,"  Emma remarked and you cringed at the fact that your best friend had just referred to the man you slept with as if he was a child.

Before you could protest however, the band began to play, and Cillian's voice rang out, strong and melodic. You couldn't help but watch him, his movements fluid and graceful as he strummed the guitar, his lips curving into a soft smile as he sang.

He seemed to enjoy the stage and had a presence there which not many people possessed. 

"He sure is talented," you murmured to yourself , impressed by his abilities and, luckily for you, Emma did not hear you above the music this time.

The sound was electric, and the crowd moved closer to the stage as Cillian and his band continued playing. Their energy was captivating, filling the room with an intoxicating mix of anticipation and excitement. The night grew young, and the alcohol coursed through your veins, making it harder to resist the sway of his voice, your body moving instinctively along with the rhythm which is when you and Emma made some rather drunk acquaintances.

Emma, in her natural charismatic state, struck up a conversation with two young men – both of whom appeared quite taken with her charms, and as you observed them interact, you found yourself unable to help but feel ever-so slightly pleased by the notion. Not because you despised Emma nor her company, but rather because it provided you with a welcome reprieve from the uncomfortable thoughts and feelings that had been consuming you for the past few days.

One of the men, named Jason, started talking to you, complimenting you. He was tall, blonde and handsome, and under normal circumstances, you would find him attractive. But somehow, your mind kept wandering back to Cillian on stage, his instrument in his hands, and the way the music flowed from him as if it was an extension of himself.

Jason noticed your distracted behavior and leaned in, whispering suggestive comments in your ear. The alcohol in your system made you feel bold, and you entertained the idea of going home with him, using it as a way to distract yourself from Cillian. But you also knew to be better than that. This was not your style and, much to your dislike and discomfort, when the music came to an end, the blonde stranger made a move on you.

He leaned in, invading your personal space and wrapping an arm around your waist in a possessive manner, attempting to plant a kiss on your lips. However, you quickly pushed him away, exclaiming, "No, thank you," as you gathered your bearings, removing the stranger's arm from your waist.

Your actions caught the attention of several patrons, but the stranger seemed unfazed, continuing to proposition you. 

"She said no, dude," Emma intervened firmly, placing a hand on the man's chest and, even though the admirer took Emma's message as a warning, he still refused to relent.

"Oh come on , don't be like that," he persisted, his words slurring together as he continued to advance towards you, expecting a different answer from you this time.

"Listen, I am really not interested , okay? So just please leave me alone." Your voice was firm and clear, despite the hint of irritation seeping through, and you couldn't help but notice Cillian observing the scene from the stage, concern etched onto his face.

He had spotted you just moments earlier when you drew some unwanted attention towards you, arguing with the stranger and it was now that, for the stranger,  in rejection stung and, in an attempt to regain control, the man grabbed your arm, pulling you in close. "Come on. Just give me a chance," he hissed, leering down at you.

But before he could pull you any closer, a sudden flurry of movement caught everyone's attention: Cillian, having jumped off the stage, strode purposefully towards you with a determined look on his face.

In one swift motion, he pried the stranger's hand off of you, pushing him roughly away. "Back off, man!" Cillian snarled, protectively placing himself between you and the aggressor.  "She doesn't want you to touch her!" he told the much older man  , whose eyes widened in shock as he looked at Cillian with disbelief.

"Who the hell are you to tell me what she wants?" the man sneered, puffing his chest out as if he was trying to assert his dominance over Cillian.

Cillian's gaze did not waver, and he held his ground, standing protectively in front of me. "That's none of your business,"  he retorted, his voice low and firm. "Just leave her alone and find someone else to bother."

The stranger's face contorted in anger, and he took a threatening step forward and, without warning, leashed out at Cillian with his fist, hitting his face.

"Oh my god!" you and Emma gasped at the same time, but Cillian didn't budge. Instead, he clenched his jaw and threw a punch back, hitting the stranger's nose. 

"Stop it," you yelled, trying to pull the stranger away from Cillian as the two continued to tussle, drawing the attention of everyone in the bar as they watched the scene unfold before them. Emma, trying to act as a voice of reason, pleaded with the stranger as well, to which he just thrown a dismissive glower and puffed up his chest in defiance.

Cillian's nose was bleeding and the stranger's jaw was turning blue already as, finally, the security guard intervened .

"Hey! Hey! That's enough!" The bouncer loudly shouted, stepping between the two men, and separating them. "Break it up, now! BOTH of you, outta here!"

With the fight broken up, Cillian retreated to your side, his eyes locked on yours, but you couldn't hold his gaze for long. The adrenaline was wearing off, and embarrassment flooding through you, having caused such a scene.

"God, I am so sorry," Cillian apologized, concern evident in his voice.

"Did he hurt you? Are you alright?" he gently reached out to touch your cheek, and you flinched at his touch, a silent reminder of the events that just transpired.

"I'm fine, Cillian," you assured him while Emma handed you a pile of napkins. "But you are not. Your nose is bleeding," you pointed out, concern lacing your voice as you stared at the blood trickling down his face.

"Oh, that's nothing new," he waved off your concerns, trying to downplay the severity of his injury. "It's been broken a couple of times before," he winked, revealing the slight grin, and you couldn't help but stare at cheerful expression of a person who had just been engaged in a physical altercation, and yet stood there, as charming as ever.

"Come on, let me clean this up for you," you told him firmly, leading him to the bathroom, despite the lingering embarrassment trickling from your every pore and, despite all that had transpired, Emma couldn't help but chuckle.  

The bar's washroom was tiny, hidden late at night like this, most booths were occupied - users smoking in secrecy or friends freshening up after a drink or even two. It smelled of sweat and cheap perfume, and the harsh light cast shadows across the grimy mirrors.

But despite its poor condition, the sink was thankfully empty as you wet a handful of paper towels, pressing them against Cillian's wound.

"We are in the girls' toilet Y/N," Cillian stated as his blue eyes smiled at you.

This instructive observation did very little to pacify the raging tempest that subsumed your senses as you looked back at him. "No shit, Sherlock," you retorted sarcastically, rolling your eyes. "Now hold still," you  ordered, pressing the makeshift compress gently against the bridge of his nose.

Cillian complied, scrutinizing you closely beneath the dim light of the bathroom's fixture as you attended to his wound. Despite the tense situation, a certain warmth spread throughout your core, reciprocated on his end as his gaze deepened and softened.

"You shouldn't have intervened," you found yourself whispering to your student, clinching the napkins more rigorously over his injury lest the emotion stuck in your throat escaped audibly.

Dismissing your words, Cillian gestured carelessly with his free hand as he reassured you, "But I couldn't just stand there and do nothing," he said as regret clouded his features, and the gravity of the consequences of his impulse weighed upon his conscience.

"Well, thank you,"  you finally offered him, grudgingly, as you finished tending to his injury. The sincerity in his deep blue eyes forced down your prim hostility. "I really am grateful for what you did." However, you still struggled with the irrational, nagging feeling of embarrassment that remained lodged in your throat, gripping you and refusing to let go, unwilling to exhale the frustrations which consistently surfaces whenever you were near Cillian.

The atmosphere inside the small, dimly lit bathroom had undoubtedly changed and, if it wasn't for Cillian's brother Paddy barging in unexpectedly to check in on the two of you, you may have gotten sidetracked by the young man that insisted on ignoring the unspoken boundaries between professors and students.

"Come on Cills. Time to go. The bouncer wants you out of here," Paddy said, looking between Cillian and you. There was a stern expression on his face, and his glare led you to believe that any argument from either Cillian or you would go ignored.

A bit reluctantly, you both nodded your agreement before, with careful treads, you made your way back towards your friends - Emma appearing absolutely mesmerized.

"Holy crap. I can't believe what just happened," Emma exclaimed, eyes wide with astonishment and, as she remained quiet, which was something that Emma rarely did, you finally allowed the tension to seep from your body, feeling your posture start to relax, and the weight of the past few hours lifting.

"Is he okay?" she eventually asked while Cillian and Paddy sneaked out, waving at you contently. 

"Yes, I don't think his nose is broken," you told her and she laughed a little, that surprising tinkling sound that came unexpectedly.

"What a crazy night. But honestly, I'm glad I got to witness it," she concluded and her line of sight moved back to Cillian who just left. She then raised her brows at you, obviously intrigued by your young and mysterious protector.

"He seems to really care about you, Y/N. And he probably has a little crush on you too," she murmured thoughtfully, watching him disappear into the crowd.

"Don't be silly, Em. He is just a student. Nothing more , nothing less," you replied dismissively, taking a large sip of your drink.

Despite your words, Emma shot you a knowing look, her eyes gleaming with mischief and suspicion. "Sure, if you say so," she said with a wink.

"Anyways, let's get going. I think we've had enough excitement for one night," you suggested, eager to end the conversation and avoid further speculation about your relationship with Cillian.

***

Meanwhile, as Paddy drove him and his brother home, Paddy too ought to address the elephant in the room.  "So, you wanna tell me what's going on between you and that woman at the pub?" Paddy asked, peering at Cillian from the driver's seat.

Cillian sighed deeply, running his fingers through his unruly locks. His clenched fists squeezed the denim of his jeans, drawing his knuckles white. "I have no frigging clue what you are talking about, Pad," he admitted truthfully. "She's my law school professor, and that's it."

However, as Cillian defended himself, Paddy only raised an eyebrow at his older brother, doubting the legitimacy of his claims.

Paddy turned onto their street, pulling the car up to their modest home and switching off the engines while continuing their conversation. "Cills, you and I both know that's never 'it' with you. Every woman you show interest in turns into a complicated fucking mess and you are clearly interested in her. So, I'll ask again. What's going on with you and this particular woman?" Paddy questioned seriously.

Cillian remained silent for a few moments, staring out the window into the darkness beyond. He knew his brother was right, as much as he despised admitting it. 

"I don't know, Pad," Cillian finally replied, turning his gaze back to his brother. "We kinda hooked up once and things just got complicated now," he trailed off, leaving the implication hanging heavy in the air.

Paddy raised his eyebrows, surprised by the revelation. "Wow, okay," he said, pausing for a moment to let the news settle. "You actually slept with your fucking teacher?" Paddy finally burst out, incredulously. "I mean, she is super hot, but Jesus man. You do realize that's a whole piss pot of trouble, right?"

Cillian frowned. "Of course, I know that, Pad," he replied, sinking lower in his seat. "But it was the best sex I've ever had and I really fucking like her, you know ? I can't help it."

Paddy shook his head, letting out a low whistle. "Fuck bro , I don't even know what to say to that," he admitted, rubbing his forehead with the back of his hand. "Look, I'm gonna level with you here, Cills. I know you've been struggling lately, and I think you need to focus on your future. Getting involved with your teacher isn't going to help with that."

Cillian sighed heavily, leaning back in his seat. "I know, I know," he agreed. "But it's not that simple, Pad. I don't even want to be at fucking law school. I hate it and she just makes it a little more interesting," Cillian admitted to his brother , feeling a stab of guilt at the thought of disappointing his family.

Tags:

@sunbeamseas @saint-ackerman @oatmealisweird @naxxsstuff @amanda08319 @r-m-cidnah @elysiannook @cillshot @infireddabdab @tastycakee @harrysbestiee @lilybabe22 @adalynlowell @henrywintersdearestgirl @ietss @thatgirlthatreadswattpad @ryiamarie @axionn

@heidimoreton @nela-cutie @futurecorps3 @delishen @nosebleeds-247 @thirteenis-myluckynumber @gills-lounge @hjmalmed @lost-fantasy @tiredkitten @sidechrisporn @smallsoulunknown @charqing-qing @hopefulinlove @aporiasposts @shycrybaby @me-and-your-husband @hjmalmed @lacontroller1991 @galxydefender @aporiasposts

@galxydefender @hunnibearrr @saint-ackerman @lunyyx @gentlemonsterjennie1 @ihavealotoffandomssorry @nadloves @lost-fantasy @nolucesn@mcavoy-girl @hjmalmed @bloodybagels @obeyme4life @richiesgroupie @blushykiss @tatumrileyslover @teawithsatanx @orijanko @rhaenyra4ever @xcinnamonmalfoyx @budugu @nadloves @kmc1989 @bloodybagels @obeyme4life @richiesgroupie @forgottenpeakywriter @smailaway @sophiaaguirred @blondie-22

[jabberwocky-warrior]

10 Random Vil Headcanons

10 random Headcanons for Vil Schoenheit

TW / CW: none that i know of

Characters: Vil Schoenheit, Mentioned Vil's dad, Rook, epel, Crewel

Not proofread | 267words | None of these are canon [obviously]

Vil is super close with his dad. They talk as often as they can making time. They make sure they have at least 1 call a month, no exceptions.

When he was little he had very sensitive skin. He still uses specific laundry detergents to avoid irritation.

Even though Vil knows self-defense [and is good at it], Rook still wants to teach him archery and hunting.

Vil taking in Epel as his protege was partly (not fully) because he saw himself in how people assume things about both of them based on appearance. Vil uses people’s assumptions to his advantage and I do truly believe he wants Epel to do the same.

Vil had debated joining the science or photography clubs before ultimately joining film appreciation.

Vil only ever does “normal” makeup but he does have an appreciation and half-of-a-want to experiment with more artistic makeup. [[include examples in bottom of post]]

Vil had no trouble contacting teachers for extra help or for self-study. He routinely gets book recommendations from Professor Crewel for new potions and experiments to try.

Vil posted GRWM and vlogs every month or two before entering NRC. Instead, now he sticks to work-related posts and the occasional random photo.

Vil can speak a few languages. Most are survival level but a lot are conversational. German and Swedish are two, with French being one he’s gotten better at more recently because of Rook.

Vil has thought about writing his own play productions but worries it will only get support for his name, not for the work he put into it.

This is what I mean by artistic makeup.

left: Aztinayy on insta Middle: Evelynnnxo_ on twitter Right: Tania Kwok

let me know if you find mistakes. Feel free to send request. I hope you enjoy this. i know its not much but I'm trying to get back into writing.

[evergreenabyss]

Tenderness

Pairing: Dottore x Reader

Warnings: Not really any. There's a brief mention of torturing someone but like it's a dottore fic.

Content: Fluff, Hurt-Comfort

Synopsis: You're sick of being demeaned by others. Dottore comforts you.

Word: ~1.2k

A/N: I do write NSFW so MDNI

Tenderness. Comfort. Endearment. All words no one would be foolish enough to associate with the Doctor. If he found you to be irritating, he’d turn you into his next experiment. He was arrogant with little patience for those he felt were beneath him. Sometimes he played with you first but you always ended up on his table with your blood on his hands, just the way he liked it. Most would call him cruel. Dangerous. Malevolent.

But not you. He was the only one who made his intentions clear the day you met in the library to this very moment. Zandik had been more interested in your opinions than the restricted books he wanted you to sneak him back at the Akademiya. As the second harbinger, there was nothing you could offer him. His segments were his lab assistants but he said many times they didn’t possess the same thoughts as you. He was on top of the world now. He could have kicked you off his throne any second but he didn’t. The doctor everyone else was so afraid of let you sit next to him.

Which is why it hurt so bad that no matter where the two of you went, everyone treated you like you were nothing more than an accessory on his arm. Neither of you graduated but that didn’t mean neither of you knew anything. Zandik got a lab and what did you get? Lunches where you tried to discuss your studies only to be asked about the intricacies of your relationship. His career thrived since his exile. Yours only suffered.

They would pretend to be interested in your mind and once you were away from the protection of your partner, they’d reveal that they saw you as an acrobat in a circus, performing for them. You were sick of bending your limbs for their amusement. You thirsted to be the lion they watched from a distance. Instead of being afraid of the doctor, you wanted those bastards to be afraid of you too.

But you were nothing like the notorious Il Dottore. Where he was manipulative and obsessive, you were gullible and desperate. If he was in your position, he’d capture the one he detested the most and test his newest concoction on them to teach the others not to speak so loosely. You, on the other hand, would cry in the safety of your room and ease back into the part they made you play, a puppet on a string, unable to break free.

You’d wailed into the soft sheets, comforted by the scent of his cologne. He’d jump at the chance to turn those who hurt you into his newest experiments but you were convinced you needed to solve your own problems. So the ambery vanilla and patchouli scent would have to guard you for now.

When you heard the door to your shared space open, you turned on your side to pretend to be asleep. Tears still slid down the apples of your cheeks but you had been able to quiet your crying. His boots squeaked as he crossed the floor to your bed where he settled himself in a seated position next to your form that was turned away from him. He let out a sigh as a hand caressed your face, gliding a thumb across the delicate skin.

“Come here, darling.” He spoke in a low voice that would sound uncharacteristic of him to anyone else. But it was for you and you couldn’t help but be obedient to his suggestions.

You didn’t speak, merely crawled to lay your head in his lap. Your palm gripped his thigh as you turned your face into his clothing body, sobs began falling out of your mouth once again. He didn’t say anything in return, no pleas for you to stop crying. Zandik just let his hand card through your hair.

Eventually, you ran out of shuddering wails. Now, you just felt empty and sad but at least you were in his arms. Your head lying in the crook of his neck, tightly held in his embrace.

“Would you like to talk about it?”

“I wish I didn’t have to.”

"What do you mean?"

“No one would dare speak about the second harbinger but his lover is fair game. It’s even more pathetic that I require your assistance. I should be able to handle it on my own.”

He didn’t respond at first, measuring the weight of your words. You could feel his heartache simply because yours did. Finally, he broke the silence with a simple question, “Do you wish for me to spare them?” He almost sounded disappointed.

You shifted your position in his arms to where you could gaze at his face. His crimson eyes blinked softly at you, filling your stomach with warmth. You shook your head at his question, “No, that’s not what I mean. I want them to suffer but more than that I want them to be afraid to whisper my name. Just as afraid as they are to say yours. I’m sick of their ridiculous dinner parties where they insult my intelligence with small talk. They believe I am beneath them and they can get on your good side through me. They should be trying to get on my good side. But I don’t know how to do that. I’m still the same naive scholar from the Akademiya.”

A wicked smile had crossed your lover's lips at your words. He sighed softly before his smooth voice said, “Oh, unfortunately, my dear that’s where you are incorrect. If you were still that student who worked in the library, you’d be content to continue being who others expect you to be. That version of you craved to be loved. The current version of you desires to be respected. Though, that is something I can assist you with.”

“You seem a bit too pleased about this.”

“But of course. Your mind is one of the many things I admire about you. It has been rather disappointing to see others treat you as merely an afterthought. You are worth far more than that.” He said, his hand caressing your cheek. “So, how would you like to start my darling?”

“Hmm, the quickest way would be to send a message, yes? We can use the Natlan ambassador’s irritating wife as one of your test subjects for a while. She’s the ringleader of the group, always saying she wants to discuss my thesis but just asks why I haven’t married you yet. She’s too important to kill but that doesn’t mean we can’t have some fun with her.” The words came out of your mouth while you thought out loud.

When Dottore didn’t respond, you looked at him with a nervous look. Perhaps, that was too much. You should probably choose someone who’s less important. “What?”

Instead of answering with words, he leaned down to kiss you. His wet lips moved at a feverish pace as his hand slid to your throat to rest there. When he pulled away, he smirked down at you, “I can’t wait to see the person you become.” 

[marzmeltdown]

Bad Decisions

⌦ Pairing: Prof!Changkyun (I.M) x Fem!Reader ⌦ Genre(s): Smut ⌦ Warning(s): swearing,, age gaps (changkyun's in his 30's readers in their 20's),, power dynamics,, exhibitionism (kinda),, nicknames (changkyun: sir,, professor,, reader: doll,, princess,, idk if slut constitutes itself as a nickname but its used,, ),, cream pies(pls be practice safe sex besties),, deep throating,, face fucking,, desk sex,, choking,, oral (m receiving),, Dacryphilia,, dirty talk,, spit eating (idk if thats what its called),, fingering,, humiliation,, ⌦ Word count: 2.66k ⌦ Summary: You're struggling in your history class, so naturally, you go to your professor for help. You weren't expecting to receive that type of help as well. ⌦ A/N: Listening to Hollywood Undead and Monsta X while writing this was an experience to say the least. I may or may not have written this for myself as well. Have y'all seen that tiktok of Changkyun pulling out of a parking spot w one hand? Twas truly beautiful. If there's anything you feel I should improve on in the future, don't hesitate to let me know! You can find progress updates on everything I write in my pinned post every Wednesday.:)

⌦ marz’s tag list ⌦ marz’s req form

You cried as you looked at the exam grade displayed on your computer screen. You couldn't believe what you were seeing. D+, you had studied so hard; how could you have gotten such a bad grade? You sat at your desk with your knees to your chest, crying into them.

Your head flew up as you heard the door to your dorm room swing open, followed by your roommate's keys jingling as she walked in. She sat her bag on the floor beside her bed, oblivious to your crying until she took her headphones out of her ears.

"Oh my god, y/n, are you okay? What happened??" She asked, tossing her headphones onto her bed as she rushed over to you. You sniffled a bit, turning the laptop towards her with one hand while the other wiped away the tears that had taken residence on the tip of your chin.

"I got a D on my history exam," you said. It took everything in you not to scream with how upset you were; history was the only class you were struggling in. Which didn't make any sense to you, as you really liked history.

"What the hell? You studied so hard! You study more than I do!" Your roommate gasped, her brows furrowed in confusion and irritation as she too tried to wrap her head around how you could have done so poorly on an exam you worked so hard to prepare for. You sniffled once more, turning the laptop back to you and beginning to write your professor an email asking if he were free tomorrow during his office hours.

"I'm going to go talk to him tomorrow and see if there's anything I can do to get my grade up," you said, your voice slowly going back to normal rather than the shakey, upset voice you had when your roommate walked in on your crying session.

"That's a good idea. Mr. Im is a nice professor; I'm sure he would be more than willing to help you out." Your roommate said she hugged your side reassuringly before walking back to her side of the room.

Mr. Im replied to your email sooner than you had expected; he has always told students that as soon as 5 p.m. rolled around, any emails he had would be answered the following business day.

⌦ Mr Im:

ㅤY/N,

ㅤThank you for reaching out regarding your performance in class, my office hours are open all ㅤday.

ㅤThank you, Mr. Im.

You smiled as you read the email, looking back at your roommate, who had gotten comfortable on her bed. "He's free all day tomorrow; hopefully we can get something figured out."

"That's great; I'm sure he will work with you about your grade," she reassured once more.

You sighed shakily as you stood outside your professor's office. Rarely did you ask for help, so knowing that you were about to knock on Mr. Im's door to do exactly that made you nervous. After a couple deep breaths, you knocked on the door. You were worried that you'd knocked too softly until the door swung open, revealing your professor.

"Y/N, come in; it's good to see you." Mr. Im smiled, and you stood there in awe for a moment as you soaked in his smile. He was ethereal, and you felt as though you could stare at him all day if you could.

"Nice to see you too, Mr. Im," you stuttered, stepping into the room. It was neater than you had expected; every book on the shelf was in order from biggest to smallest, and the couch that sat against the wall looked untouched. His desk looked unused aside from the stack of papers on the left corner and a water bottle that sat next to his computer; the floor was spotless as well.

"What was it you wanted to talk about, y/n?" Changkyun asked, following you to his desk once he shut the door. You both took seats in the chairs opposite each other.

"I wanted to talk about my grade; it's not great," you said, rubbing the back of your neck nervously.

"I'm well aware that your grade isn't anything to brag about," he replied, leaning back in his chair.

"Right.." You said that, blushing a bit as you looked down.

"I suppose you're hoping I can help you fix that?" He asked, and his tone came off more condescending than he had meant it.

"Yeah, if you'd be so kind,"

"Well, if you paid better attention in my class, you might do better," he suggested. Your head snapped up at him as you looked at him with widened eyes. He smirked softly, beginning to speak as he stood up from his chair. "Don't act so surprised, y/n; I see how you stare at me during class; it's pretty obvious." He said, you hadn't noticed that he was standing right next to you until he gently took hold of your chin, forcing you to look up at him.

"It makes me wonder what's going on in that pretty little head of yours," he said, running his thumb against your bottom lip as he spoke. His voice had gotten deeper—sexier even, if that were possible. Instinctively, you parted your lips as you kept your eyes trained on him. "You and I both know that you're capable of studying for my exams, so I'll cut you a deal; I'll fix your grade if you do something for me."

Your professor seemed more talkative than normal, but you assumed anyone would be if they were discussing "deals" with another person. It was your turn to speak now. Before you could, however, his thumb found itself inside your mouth, pressing itself down on your tongue. Changkyun stood still as he waited for an answer, looking down at you with lidded eyes. You nodded in response to his offer.

Changkyun only smiled at this as his free hand worked at his belt. You moved your eyes to his hand as your hands reached up to aid him in taking his belt off. He jerked your head up gently, forcing you to look back up at him. "Eyes on me, doll."

Undoing the clasp of his belt and the buttons of his pants without being able to look at them seemed to be somewhat of a struggle. But the reward behind the zipper was worth the struggle. Changkyun moved his hand from your chin to your head once you pulled his pants down just enough for his cock to spring out.

You broke eye contact with your professor long enough to glance at his cock, your mouth watering at the sight. You brought a hand to pump at the base, looking back up at him as you began pumping his cock with a steady pace. His breath hitched slightly when you let your tongue run against the pink tip of his cock.

"Fuck, you look so pretty like this, princess," he breathed out as you took the head of his cock into your mouth. He gripped your hair roughly, forcing himself the rest of the way into your mouth. You did your best not to gag, though your efforts proved futile when the tip of his cock brushed against your throat.

The sound of your gag seemed to spark something within him as his hips began thrusting themselves into you and shoving his cock further down your throat. Tears began to form in the corners of your eyes from how harshly he was thrusting into you. The lewd sounds of your gags mixed with his groans of pleasure and the saliva being churned in your mouth filled the room. You were surprised no one had heard you two yet.

Just when you were certain your professor was only going to abuse your throat, he pulled out of you, pulling you to stand. Immediately, you leaned in to kiss him, the both of you hungrily attacking each other's mouths. Your hands found their way to Changkyun's collar, tugging him closer as you sat on his desk. Your fingers worked to undo the buttons on his shirt while his worked at the buttons on your pants. You mentally cursed at yourself for not taking your roommate's advice on the skirt she suggested you wear.

You pushed Changkyun's shirt off his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor, before aiding him in taking your pants off. His hand found itself resting against your heat as his thumb rubbed itself against your clothed clit. You whimpered at his soft teasing, bucking your hips against his hand.

"Patience, princess, I'll fill you up soon," he said against your lips, his fingers still teasing you through your panties.

"Yes, sir," you replied, whining when he pulled your panties aside to continue teasing your hole. "Just take them off," you begged, moving a hand down to push your panties off.

Changkyun chuckled at your impatience but obliged, pulling your panties off the rest of the way, his hand finding itself attached to your heat once more. "You're so wet already, doll," he commented, emphasizing his words by slipping his middle finger into your hole. A soft moan escaped your lips, and you pulled away from the kiss to let your head fall back.

You let your eyes close as your professor began to pump his finger in and out of your hole. You pulled your shirt off as Changkyun inserted another finger, the surprise causing you to drop your shirt onto his desk, letting yourself lean against your hand as his thumb rubbed itself against your clit once more.

"F-fuck, professor, please," you begged as your head fell back. His fingers felt like magic against the nerves between your thighs.

"Please what, princess? Use your words," he said, his free hand reaching behind your back to unclasp your bra. You were surprised at how well your professor did tasks with one hand that would have required a normal person to use two.

"Fuck me, please," you whined, your free hand gripping at his toned biceps. He smirked at your request, pulling his fingers out of you and leaving your hole empty momentarily as he reached into his wallet to grab a condom. Your head snapped up to look at him, and your hand flew up to stop him, looking at him pleadingly.

He looked at you with a confused expression, his confusion disappearing once you opened your mouth to say, "I know you want to fuck your cum into me just as much as I want you to."

You weren't sure where this new bout of confidence came from, but the look on your professor's face when you spoke went straight to your core. You could feel the slick beginning to run down your thighs as you bit your lip. He tossed the partially opened condom onto the floor along with his wallet before pulling you closer by your thighs.

"If you keep talking like that, kitten, I might have to take you home with me," he said as he took his cock in one hand, his other pushing your thigh up even more, causing you to lie on your back. You whimpered as Changkyun rubbed his cock against your folds, propping yourself up on your elbows to watch him.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you, princess?" Changkyun began as he slowly thrust himself into you. It took all the strength you had not to let your head fall back so you could watch as your professor's cock disappeared into your hole before reappearing again once you'd had time to adjust to his size.

You bit your lip as Changkyun began speaking again, painting a more detailed picture in your head of what he was talking about. "You'd like it if I took you home and fucked you like the little slut you are," he said, letting his hand rest against your throat, squeezing just enough to feel good but not enough to cause any serious harm.

You nodded in response, letting your body fall back against the desk so you could use your hands to hold your thighs open. "Yes, sir, I'd like that very much." You whined.

Changkyun wasted no time as he snapped his hips into you at a rapid pace, leaning his body against yours so you were eye to eye. The way his body pinned you in place prevented you from arching your back while simultaneously forcing your legs to rest themselves against his shoulders, allowing him to pound deeper into your walls.

You couldn't help the loud moans that came out of your mouth as his tip brutally hit your sweet spot. His hand moved from your throat to slip his fingers into your mouth, muffling any noises that escaped your lips.

"Be quiet, princess; you don't want anyone to catch us now, do you?" He asked, and his question, along with the taste of your slick still on his fingers, caused a whimper to fall from your lips. You shook your head, and the sight of you tasting yourself on Changkyun's fingers caused his dick to twitch inside you.

Only when he thought you were capable of controlling your sounds did he remove his fingers from your mouth, this time gripping at your jaw just as he had done earlier.

"I bet you let all your professors slut you out like this, don't you?" He taunted, angling his hips so every thrust would push the head of his cock against the bundle of nerves that had you seeing stars each time it was hit. His hand keeping a firm grasp on your chin prevented you from shaking your head in protest; he took this opportunity to spit into your mouth to further humiliate you.

His words and the act of him spitting into your mouth went right to your core, and your walls began to contract around his cock.

"N-No sir! J-Just you—fuck, I'm so close," you moaned, digging your heels into his shoulder blades in attempts to pull him closer. You reached back to grip the edge of the desk, effectively pushing the ungraded papers onto the floor.

"Go ahead, princess, cum on my cock," he panted, feeling the knot in his stomach begin to tighten as well. He propped himself up on his hands to give himself more leverage, his thrusts going deeper and harder than they had been previously.

It took a few more harsh thrusts on his end before the coil in your stomach snapped and you were sent over the edge. Your hand clamped itself over your mouth to muffle the wanton moan that escaped your throat as you felt your hole flutter against his cock and your arousal slowly ran down Changkyun's cock. You were positive he would have a stain there afterwards.

The tight grip your walls used to hold Changkyun in was enough for him to fall over the edge, a soft whimper escaping his mouth as he finished. He thrust his cum back into you a few times as he rode out his orgasm, his thrusts coming to a full stop, and he caught his breath before pulling out. He watched as his cum dripped out of your hole and down the side of his desk.

"Here," Changkyun said, handing you a water bottle as he helped you sit up. You weren't sure when he'd walked away, but he had already cleaned himself and adjusted his pants. You winced as you sat up, taking the water bottle from him.

"Thank you," you said as you opened the bottle, taking a sip. You watched as Changkyun gently wiped you clean with a few tissues he had taken from the box that surprisingly didn't fall.

He tossed the soiled tissues into the trash can beside his desk before he leaned in to whisper into your ear.

"I expect you to pick those papers up, and I was serious about taking you back to my place."

[kindagayfish]

Hello friend!

Im new to the trigun family after watching Stampede and recently ive been on a Knives kick and i dont see much content about him x reader.

So i was wondering if we could get some headcanons about what would make Knives feel “those gross human feelings” (love, the need to protect,need for affection) for the reader, and how he would tell them or show them?

I just need some knives fluff! Boy needs and hug! If you dont wanna write that, thats totally fine!! Thank you!!

A/N: Knives is SUCH an interesting character and im literally so feral for him. This is very much stream-of-conscious writing and not proofread. It also turned out so much longer than I expected! I legit got so carried away so I hope you enjoy it!!

Also I feel like my thoughts/headcanons for Knives will always be constantly evolving because he's just such a complex character??? And I love it???

Contains: Hints of nsfw thoughts if you squint??, fluff I guess??, can knives even do fluff???, the slowest of slowburns for this man

So we know Knives does know what love feels like…sorta. He loves Vash, and wants to see a future where they can both live their lives without the fear of being used for what they are. However, that means killing every human left on the planet. So it’s a twisted kind of love…but he still cares in his own way.

I don’t think Knives would notice you right away. It won’t be some love-at-first-sight, omg this human was so nice to me thing. It will take A LOT of time. He has completely blocked himself off from anyone because of fear, and fear is an intense driving force.

Perhaps you’re involved in his grand scheme somehow; A scientist in a lab who has taken a special interest in the Plants. At first, you’re focused on finding a more sustainable way for them to be used…but then after witnessing one open itself up, showing a high level of intelligence, you change your studies to find a way for them to live beyond the confines of the glass tanks.

You’re aware of Knives. Aware that he’s what they call an Independent. And you take notes on him, studying any file that isn’t restricted from the ships that once roamed the universe.

Knives becomes aware of you rather quickly. It's hard to ignore the way your eyes follow his every move, jotting down your observations quickly into a notebook that never seems to leave your hands. At first he finds it irritating, having this human stalk him like a shadow. However, it was only when you caught him on a particularly bad day that he finally spoke to you.

"Get OUT." His voice was ice, sending a sharp tendral into your notebook, tearing it from your hands. You let out a pained yelp, though none of the blades touched had you, and ran out of the room.

After he's calmed down, curiosity gets the better of him, and Knives spends the rest of the evening reading through your notes.

The next day it's him that seeks you out. Knives finds you in a lab, placing your in-tact notebook on the table in front of you before stating that some of your observations were incorrect, which causes you to flush with embarrassment. He leaves immediately after, and upon inspecting your notebook, you find that he had crossed out some of your own notes, replacing it with the "correct" information.

Knives begins to tolerate your company. You're not as insufferable as the other humans, and he finds himself quite intrigued by how brave you've gotten around him ever since that day. But he continues to keep himself at a distance….for now.

So anyways as your "relationship" with Knives progresses:

Knives shows his love through acts of service and quality time. He allows you into his space; allows himself to lower his guard and try to understand these strange feelings he gets when around you. Although, again, this takes time.

He'll start to show interest in whatever experiments you're running, quietly observing from a respectable distance. It might even start to feel like you’re the one being studied from how intense his silent stare is (he is 100% memorizing everything about you).

The more time spent with you, the more possessive he becomes of this time...and just you in general.

Knives knows that you have to talk to others in order to do your job, but that doesn't mean he won't glare at them until they walk away. He prides himself on how his presence alone can clear a room so it can just be the two of you.

If you forget to eat, time getting away from you, Knives might sigh and fetch you something. Setting it down directly in front of you and making comments under his breath about how "humans are pathetic" and how you "can't even take care of yourself". You're like a pet, he tells himself...rationalizing why he would go out of his way to make sure you stay healthy.

Physical touch comes much later

Sometimes you'll feel him lean in from behind, gazing over your shoulder to gain a better view of what you're working on. Heat radiates off of his body, but he never brings himself to touch you. Knives finds it amusing at how flustered you get when he does this and likes to test your boundaries as well as his own. He’ll catch himself too often wondering how soft your skin would feel under his fingertips. It’s a disgusting thought, really. (he is so touch starved but will NOT allow himself to indulge in this innocent fantasy because he’s stubborn and has the biggest god complex)

But it eventually happens one evening when you hand him your notebook. All of his senses are ignited, the place where your fingers brushed against his hand burns throughout the night. Knives can't bring himself to admit he likes this feeling, at least not out loud.

Oh but does he crave it.

It's a thrill, an adrenaline rush, and strangely even more fulfilling than the feeling he gets when he takes a human life.

Starts as "accidental". Fingers colliding when reaching for the same thing, the back of his hand brushing against yours as you both walk, standing too close to you so that when you take a step back, you bump into his chest.

Soon he's grabbing your wrist to stop you from doing something stupid, placing a hand on the small of your back to guide you out of a room, even taking your hand in his, frowning at the fresh injury on your skin, but also burning up inside at the fact that his own hand swallows yours completely. That you're just so fragile. So human.

Knives is absolutely obsessed.

[millieslibrary]

lucky to love you

pairing(s): dallas winston x fem!reader:

summary: a damaged delinquent meets an adventurous, fiery young woman at a bar and they fall in love... what happens next?

wc: 7.3k

warning(s): underage drinking, smoking, gambling, fluff, and a pinch of angst

a/n: this is the first fanfic i've ever wrote. i really hope you like it.

It was a warm June night in the city of Tulsa. Cars and glowing business signs illuminated the streets and a soft breeze kept the heat from sweltering. The city was bustling, as families and people of all ages walked up and down the sidewalks, enjoying their Friday evening.

You were sitting at a sticky bar in a hot and heavy room of a place called ‘Buck’s’. A man slid you a glass with an amber liquid. You tipped your head back and let the burning taste of whiskey invade your mouth and spread through your body. This wasn’t your first drink of the night and surely wouldn’t be your last. You smiled at the man behind the counter before getting up from your seat at the bar and sliding past dozens of sweaty bodies to the billiard room.

There, two men stood at the pool table while a few lined the walls to spectate. Immediately, your eyes landed on the man at the far side of the table; 6 feet with gorgeous brown eyes and beautiful porcelain skin. He was a leather-wrapped bad decision.

His eyes came up from studying the green table and landed onto you. You watched him do a double take before his eyes took in your form, looking you up and down. His tongue prodded at the inside of his cheek. 

“You gonna come in or you just gonna keep blocking the door?”

You smiled at him before taking a step inside.

“I wanna play," you stated plainly.

"Little lady thinks she can play pool," he uttered, half a question and half a statement. The others in the room laughed lightly at that.

"I reckon I can win too," you jabbed back.

He seemed surprised by your conviction. You watched as he smiled to himself. And what a smile it was. You felt your face heat up and butterflies in your stomach at the sight.

"Alright. I'll give you a go once I beat this guy," he said, confidently.

The rest of the game was quick. Your leather-jacket-wearing mystery man was a skilled player, experience exuding from every shot he took. However, even as you watched him take a couple dollars from the palm of his opponent, you felt confident.

You grabbed a stick off the wall and approached the table.

"I hope you're a betting woman," he said.

"Of course," you replied back easily.

"Tell you what," he started, "I'll bet you one dollar that I can beat you in fifteen shots or less."

"Deal," you smirked as you extended your hand to shake.

When he took it, you suddenly became aware of the difference in your sizes. His hand completely enveloped your own.

His fingers were calloused and rough. His knuckles were bruised; you resisted the urge to run your thumb over them. He was warm. You were almost sad to pull away. 

"Does the little lady have a name?" he asked as you rounded the table.

"If you do," you replied as you took your break shot, a striped ball falling into the far left hole.

He smiled again and you felt yourself go slightly weak in the knees.

"I'm Dally. Dally Winston."

You had heard that name before. Unfortunately, word traveled fast in the city of Tulsa; and the name ‘Dally Winston’ was often attached to stories of a no-good, low-down delinquent. But something in you told you not to run away. Instead, you looked up and into his eyes. 

"Y/N Y/L/N."

Dallas didn't beat you in fifteen shots or less. He didn't beat you at all. He rolled his eyes in irritation while handing you a dollar about fifteen minutes after the game's beginning.

"Let me buy you a beer," you offered to which he eagerly accepted.

Dally led you to the bar with his hand on the small of your back, careful not to lose you in the crowd. You bit your lip at the contact.

After using your earnings to pay for your drinks, Dally led you outside. You closed your eyes and breathed in the fresh air. He grabbed a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and gently placed one between his lips. He held the pack out to you and you copied his actions. He scoffed with a smile and shook his head lightly.

"What?" you asked.

"You're one interesting broad," he said, lighting his cigarette.

"What do you mean by that?" you replied inquisitively, lighting your own.

"You smoke, you drink, you play pool"

"I’m sure I’m not the only girl to do those things, Dally."

"And you're feisty. I like that."

You felt yourself smile at his words. You turned to look at him only to see that he was already looking at you. You wished you could take a picture of his face. Perfectly illuminated by Buck’s neon sign and the moonlight, Dally’s hair laid gently over his forehead, his lips parted, gently grasping his cigarette between his teeth. He was dangerously good-looking. You took another long drag off your cigarette.

“I should probably be on my way home,” you said, looking at the ground.

“How far away do you live?” he questioned

“It's maybe a fifteen-minute walk,” you responded. 

“Let me walk you home, you shouldn’t be walking by yourself at this time of night.”

“Aw, does somebody care about me?” you teased, already making your way down the steps of Buck’s porch.

“Don’t go getting a big head about it,” he said, rolling his eyes.

You and Dally made conversation the whole walk home. He told you about New York, living at Buck’s, and the ragtag little friend group he made since living in Tulsa. You told him about your family and friends and all your interests and hobbies. You were having so much fun talking with him that you were a little disappointed to see that you made it to your house. It was looking upon your house that suddenly filled you with worry. You didn’t want this to be the last time you saw Dallas Winston. You quickly came up with a solution.

“Wait here,” you ordered.

You unlocked the door and jogged down the hall to your room. You turned on the light before walking over to your desk and ripping the corner off an unimportant piece of paper, writing your phone number. Then, you reached into your pocket for your lipstick. You reapplied the color and kissed the tiny paper. After looking down to admire your handiwork, you ran back outside to find Dally where you left him. 

“Call me,” you said, placing the note in the palm of his hand. When you went back inside, you watched from the windows as he looked down at the tiny paper and smiled.

That night, you dreamed about Dally. 

✩⋆｡‧₊˚⭑˚₊‧｡⋆✩

The next day, Dallas found himself at the Curtis house. He laid on the couch, long limbs splayed across the cushions. He tried to ignore the sound of Mickey playing through the TV speaker as he took a swig of his fifth beer.

“Take it easy Dal,” Soda commented as he moved to grab a deck of cards that sat on the coffee table.

Dally ignored him, hand fiddling with the piece of paper in his leather jacket pocket.​​ Truthfully, Dallas was trying to drink away his nervousness; he was scared to call you. What if you were just drunk and last night was just a mistake? What if you didn’t want to hear from him? 

Suddenly, Dally sat up. His eyes found Johnny, who sat on the ground with his back against the couch. Dally grabbed Johnny’s shoulder lightly and nodded toward the door. Johnny seemed to understand as the two stood up and walked toward the front door. 

“You two leavin’?” Two-Bit questioned, remnants of chocolate cake covering his face. 

“Nah man, just going for a smoke. I don’t wanna hear Darry complainin’ ‘bout me doin’ it in the house no more,'' explained Dally.

Two-Bit nodded as the boys exited. Dally immediately reached for his cigarettes, handing one to Johnny. Dally leaned up against the fence as he lit his cancer stick.

“What’s goin’ on Dal?” Johnny asked, almost concerned.

“I- uh- I met this girl last night, man,” Dally confessed.

“Yeah? What about her?”

“I like her. She’s real pretty. With a big mouth on ‘er. She beat me at pool,” Dallas smiled as he remembered the events of the previous night.

“You get some action or somethin’?” Johnny inquired, studying his friend’s face.

“Nah man, we just talked. She beat me at pool ‘nd then I walked her home. She told me to call her but I haven’t.”

“How come?”

Dally took a long drag from his cigarette.

“‘Cause- ‘Cause what if she don’t wanna hear from me, man?” 

Dallas Winston doesn’t get nervous. Dallas Winston doesn’t get scared. Dallas Winston is never vulnerable. But for you, it seems, Dallas Winston cares. Johnny smiles at the thought.

“I’ve never seen you like this Dal,” Johnny can’t help but tease.

“I ain’t happy ‘bout it neither so shut yer trap,” Dally spat, glaring at Johnny.

Johnny laughed a little before taking a drag.

“Just call her. Don’t be a wuss.”

✩⋆｡‧₊˚⭑˚₊‧｡⋆✩

You had been on edge all day. You eagerly awaited a call from Dally but the phone had yet to ring. Once it had reached 3pm, you were beginning to feel that he was never going to call. You were beginning to feel that the night you spent together meant nothing to him. Your mind stirred with feelings of doubt.

Then, finally, the phone rang.

You scrambled to your feet, taking a deep breath before reaching for the phone. Slowly, you pulled the phone to your ear.

“Hey dollface.”

“Dally?” you cringed at the excitement in your voice.

Dallas laughed and you tucked your bottom lip between your teeth to keep from squealing.

“You miss me?” he asked, cockily.

“What do you want, Winston?” you joked.

“Ouch. You hurt me, doll. Listen, do you- uh- do you wanna catch a movie tonight?”

“Sure! What movie?”

“Don’t know. I figure we’ll sneak in and find one of them cheesy ones that chicks like.”

“Ever the gentlemen, aren’t you?” you replied with a roll of your eyes, your smile being heard through the phone, “pick me up at 7.”

“Whatever you say, doll.”

✩⋆｡‧₊˚⭑˚₊‧｡⋆✩

Dallas waited for time to pass, absentmindedly rolling his St. Christopher between his fingers. He thought of you as he let a puff of smoke escape from his lips. Your smile, your lips, the way your eyes shone when you spoke or just listened to him talk. Your very being plagued Dally’s thoughts. You had an undeniable effect on him. 

As Dally checked himself in the mirror and ‘fixed’ his hair for the nth time that evening, he was disgusted with himself. He had truly never felt so out of control, like a lovestruck schoolboy. Looking in the mirror once again, he scoffed.

It wasn’t you that Dally was afraid of. It was how he felt about you that scared him. For the first time, in a long time, he cared about somebody. Dallas wanted to be close to you. He wanted to understand you. He wanted to be understood by you. He already felt understood by you. Most people didn’t make Dally feel understood. But you did. And that was special.

✩⋆｡‧₊˚⭑˚₊‧｡⋆✩

Hours later, Dallas arrived at your doorstep. He was excited to see you again. At least with you at his side, his mind could no longer wander and his heart would no longer yearn. When you opened the door to meet him, Dally felt the air knocked out of his lungs. Turns out, you were this beautiful all the time, and your first meeting hadn’t been a happy accident. Dally let out a low whistle as he leaned his forearm against the door frame.

“See something you like?” you questioned, teasing.

“You know I do,” Dally responded with a smirk.

You breezed right past him with a giggle and Dally swore his heart was going to beat right out of his chest.

The walk to the Nightly Double was similar to your walk home the previous night, filled with laughter and conversation. There was much to know about Dallas Winston. One of the many things you learned about him was that he was a very good listener. At least when he was with you, he would listen intently when you told a story or voiced your thoughts.

Once you arrived at the edge of the drive-in, Dally slid under the fence with ease, popping up on the other side. You followed after him, Dallas offering you his hand to help you stand up. You took it.

“You look like you’ve done that before,” Dally commented.

“That’s because I have,” you said, dusting yourself off.

Dally’s tongue prodded at the inside of his cheek, smiling. You waited for him to let go of your hand but he didn’t; instead, he led you past the dozens of parked cars to the viewing seats. He let go of your hand to swing himself over the railing, taking a seat. You rolled your eyes as you ducked under the railing, sitting down beside him. He gently laid his arm over your shoulders and you smiled. You reached for the pack of cigarettes in your pocket, offering him one. He took it from between your fingers and inspected it, placing it between his lips. You lit his and then your own. Dally took a puff.

“What are these?” he asked.

“They’re cloves,” you responded.

“They’re sweet,” he announced, eyes widening at the taste.

You nodded, making a mental note to find more things Dally hasn’t tried as you found his curiosity utterly adorable.

Your eyes fixed on the large screen ahead of you, taking another drag.

Dallas couldn’t tell you what movie you were seeing. He couldn’t even tell you what it was about. His eyes were on you the whole time. He liked the way your hair shaped your face, the way your eyebrows scrunched when you were worried or confused, and the way you nibbled on your bottom lip. The more time Dally spent with you, the more things he found to like about you. He tried to push away the thought.

“You wanna Coke?” He asked, standing up from his seat.

“Sure,” you replied, finally meeting his eyes.

With that, Dally made his way to the snack booth.

When he returned, he handed you your Coke and lit another cigarette before taking his seat again. You took a sip of your Coke and enjoyed the sweet taste. You looked at Dally.

Looking into the eyes of Dallas Winston was quickly becoming one of your favorite pastimes. His eyes seemed to tell a thousand stories. Stories of fun and troublemaking; and pain and sorrow. His eyes were ones that belonged to a person who grew up far too fast and knew the cruelty of the world all too well. Still, deep within them, you could see a childlike wonder and mischief. His eyes were cold. But looking into yours, they were soft.

You broke eye contact in favor of leaning your head on his shoulder. You couldn’t see his face from your position. He smiled.

✩⋆｡‧₊˚⭑˚₊‧｡⋆✩

From that day on, you and Dally were practically inseparable. The two of you frequented the Dingo and the Nightly Double. Days he used to spend with Johnny and at the Curtis house were spent playing cards or poker with you at your house or in his single room above Buck’s bar. Nights he used to spend ‘hunting action’ and going to Buck’s parties alone were spent drinking and playing pool with you. You were Dally’s girl and everybody knew it; albeit nothing much had happened between the two of you. Stolen glances, prolonged eye contact, and his hands on your waist were as far as you had gone with one another. With you, Dallas didn’t feel the need to ask for more. Your presence and good conversation were enough. But everything changed on one particular night.

You laid awake, humming to the sweet melody coming from your record player with a cigarette in hand when you heard a faint tapping on your window. You smiled, putting out your cigarette as you got up from your position in bed. You already knew who it was; there was only one person who would be knocking on your window, especially at this time of night. When you pushed your window open, you were met with, in your opinion, one of the worst sights one could see. Dallas Winston, bloody and bruised, looking up at you with pleading eyes.

“Jesus Christ, Dal! What the hell happened?”

You quickly turned off your record player. 

“Rumble,” Dallas replied simply, groaning as he pulled himself through your window.

You shook your head lightly, gazing at him with sad eyes as he sat on the edge of your bed.

“Let me clean you up. I’ll be right back,” you said, sparing him one final glance before you left the room to gather supplies.

When you returned, with a few washcloths and a tub of mildly soapy water in hand, Dallas was looking at the floor. After placing your materials on the ground next to him, you gently grabbed his face, forcing him to look at you.

“Did you win?” you asked lightly.

“I always do,” Dally responded, the ghost of a smile on his face.

You nodded, removing your hands from him and dipping a washcloth into the soapy water. Carefully, you brought the washcloth to his face, dabbing at a wound just above his eyebrow. Dally flinched a little at this which caused you to look at him sorrily. You soaked the washcloth again and started on another wound on his cheekbone. You repeated these ministrations until his face was clean of blood.

“Do you have any other open wounds?” you inquired.

“Nah, just bruises,” he answered.

“Are you in pain?”

“I’ll be alright.”

His failure to acknowledge your question did not go unnoticed by you. You placed a hand back on his face, thumb caressing his cheek.

“You make quite the nurse, doll.”

You shook your head, eyes closed.

“I hate seeing you like this Dal.”

“Hey,” he placed his hand over your own, “I’m okay.”

You nodded, looking into his eyes. You let your gaze fall to his lips. Then, you kissed him.

Dally kissed back almost immediately, pressing months of unsaid feelings to your lips with his own. He tasted like tobacco and cheap beer. 

The kiss quickly turned messy; tongues sliding against each other as you straddled him on the edge of your bed. His large hands gripped your thighs and you bit lightly on his bottom lip. Your hand was still on the side of his face, the other pulling at the hair on the back of his head, causing him to moan. When you finally pulled back for air, Dally placed his head in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent.

“Will you stay?” you asked, so quietly you weren’t sure if he heard you.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’ll stay.”

You crawled into bed, Dally removed his shoes and jacket, following after you. After pulling the covers up, you reached for his hand. You ran your thumb over his bruised knuckles, just like you had dreamed of doing the night you first met. You placed a kiss on each of them, smiling to yourself as you did so.

That night, as you laid comfortably on Dally’s chest, he became sure that he loved you. He decided, that night, that he would do anything for you. He would do anything to protect you.

✩⋆｡‧₊˚⭑˚₊‧｡⋆✩

In the following weeks, your relationship with Dally became more romantic. You often spent the night in Dally’s apartment and he often came knocking on your window at ungodly hours of the night. It became difficult to sleep without you, but he’d never tell you that. You realized that he very rarely wasn’t touching you in some way or another. His arm found home over your shoulders or around your waist. He frequently pulled you into his lap and placed his head in the crook of your neck. 

After months of knowing you, though, Dally never introduced you to his friends. Dally hadn’t realized you had never met the gang until he arrived at the Curtis house after not having been there in nearly a month.

“Where you been Dal? I feel like I never see you no more,” Johnny commented.

“I’m sorry kid, I’ve been busy with Y/N,” Dally replied, sitting next to Johnny on the couch.

“Who’s Y/N?” Ponyboy questioned from his spot on the floor.

“She’s- uh- She’s my girl,” Dally responded.

“How come we never met her then?” Two-Bit inquired, joining the boys in the living room, beer in hand.

“Never met who?” Sodapop asked, following Two-Bit to the living room, Steve in tow.

“Dally’s girlfriend,” answered Ponyboy.

“If she’s anything like Sylvia, I don’t wanna meet her,” Steve announced, getting a good laugh out of Two-Bit.

“Shut yer trap, will ya? She’s nothing like that,” Dally spat, placing a cigarette between his lips.

“What’s she like then?” Pony interrogated.

The boys looked to Dallas, eagerly awaiting his response. Dally lit his cancer stick.

“She’s- I don’t know man. She’s different. She sneaks into movies and she beats me at everything: cards, poker, pool. She’s a damn good pool player. She could drink two six-packs, she’ll still beat me, man. She’s smart. And she’s pretty. Real pretty,” Dally smiled. “She's nothing like Sylvia, man.”

A hush fell over the room.

“Sounds like somebody’s in love!” Soda said, breaking the silence.

That single comment set the room ablaze; hooting and hollering, and endless wolf calls and whistles filled the house.

“Shut up man!” Dally shouted; though, he was never able to fully wipe the smile from his face.

“When ya gonna let us meet her, Dal?” asked Johnny

“Yeah, you should bring her by,” Soda decided.

Dally thought for a moment before grabbing the phone.

✩⋆｡‧₊˚⭑˚₊‧｡⋆✩

When you arrived at the Curtis house an hour later, you were overcome with nerves. You knew Dally’s gang was something of a family to him and you wanted to make a good first impression. You lit a cigarette, licking your lips to taste the sweet residue left behind by the cloves. You made your way up the steps, knocking on the door. 

When it opened, you were met with a young boy. He had longer, dark hair slicked back with grease; and kind, light brown eyes. The two of you exchanged a smile.

“Come in,” he said, stepping to the side.

You entered and were immediately met with a low whistle from a man in a Mickey Mouse shirt, causing you to smile and roll your eyes. You took a puff from your cigarette while surveying the room. You could definitely tell the space was inhabited by three boys; still, it was homey and happy.

“Y/N?”

You looked up to see a familiar face.

“Sodapop?”

Soda quickly crossed the room to wrap his arms around you and you giggled, returning his hug.

“How’ve you been? I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever!” Soda exclaimed.

“I’ve been good, really good. Are you still working at the DX?”

Unbeknownst to you, Dally stood in the corner of the room, watching your reunion with the second-oldest Curtis boy. He clicked his tongue and took a swig of his beer. Something about watching Soda embrace you like that didn’t sit right with him but he couldn’t figure out why. Dallas trusted you. So why did seeing you giggle at something Soda said have him clenching his fist? 

Dally sauntered over to you, throwing his arm over your shoulders.

“Hey dollface,” Dally said, “you- uh- you two know each other?”

“Yeah! I used to pop in at the DX all the time for snacks and stuff. Soda and I became familiar,” you replied.

“Uh-huh,” Dally responded shortly, moving to sit on the couch next to the Mickey-Mouse-clad man.

You immediately felt something was wrong with Dallas but you couldn’t pinpoint what it was. You tried to shake off the thought, turning back to Soda.

“So who is everybody?” you asked

“This here is Steve,” Soda introduced, as a man with greased hair and crooked teeth approached you from the dining table, holding his hand out for you to shake.

“Right, I remember you,” you said, taking his hand.

“That there is Two-Bit,” Soda continued, pointing to the man in the Mickey Mouse shirt. You gave Two-Bit a small wave. “Then, there’s Johnnycake,” Soda gestured to a boy sitting on the floor in a jean jacket. “And my kid brother, Ponyboy,” finally identifying the young man who opened the door for you.

“No way! This is your brother?” you moved to sit between Johnny and Ponyboy on the floor.

“Yup! I have an older brother, Darry, but he’s not home right now,” Soda answered.

You nodded, putting out your cigarette.

“You wanna beer?” Soda offered.

“That would be nice, thank you,” you replied. You turned your attention to Ponyboy, “Soda’s told me a lot about you. He says you’re into books and movies and stuff.”

“Yeah,” responded Ponyboy, sheepishly.

“I like movies too,” you said, smiling.

“Really?” Ponyboy inquired, excitement evident in his tone.

You hummed in agreement, taking a beverage from Soda’s hand with a small ‘thank you’.

“What about you?” you asked, turning to Johnny.

You noticed Johnny’s face was littered with scars and bruises. When he finally met your eyes, you saw years of pain and suffering in the chocolate orbs staring back at you. His eyes almost felt… recognizable. You realized that you saw a bit of Dally in Johnny’s eyes. Both had eyes that belonged to people who knew the cruelty of the world all too well. Your heart immediately ached for him, this young boy who’d been beaten down by the world’s brutality. It wasn’t pity that you felt for him, it was sympathy.

Johnny didn’t answer your question, only shrugging. You took a sip of your beer and reached for your cigarettes. You handed one to Johnny, lighting his and then your own.

“It’s sweet,” Johnny announced, eyes widening at the taste.

You smiled at the familiar reaction.

“They’re clove cigarettes,” you said, “they’re these little flowers that they roll in with the tobacco. It makes ‘em smell and taste good.”

Johnny nodded along as you spoke, smiling. He liked the sound of your voice; it was soft and soothing. 

Dally watched you talk to Johnny out of the corner of his eye. The only two people Dallas ever loved; he was glad that you guys seemed to be getting along. 

“You boys ever played poker?” you questioned. Johnny and Ponyboy shook their heads. “Go get a deck of cards. I’ll teach you.”

Ponyboy stood up to find a deck of cards and you got up to sit on Dally’s lap. You frowned as Dallas refused to meet your eyes. Eventually, you placed your hands on his face, forcing him to look at you.

“What’s wrong?” you all but demanded.

Dally didn’t respond to your question, instead, he leaned up and pressed his lips to yours. Two-Bit howled at the action, causing Dallas to hit him upside the head with his lips still on yours.

“Gross,” said Ponyboy, having returned with the cards.

You smiled into the kiss before parting, Dally’s lips chasing your own.

“Alright, let’s play,” you announced, walking over to the dining table.

“You mind if we join in?” Soda asked, Steve at his side.

“Not at all,” you replied, “In fact, why don’t we all play? Two-Bit? Dal? You want in?” 

The rest of the afternoon was spent in laughter, playful arguing, and competitive gameplay. You taught Johnny, Ponyboy, and some of the rest of the gang how to play Texas Hold’em. You all bet cigarettes as chips, giving the game some real stakes. Eventually, Darry arrived home; the oldest Curtis brother could not be convinced to join the game, shaking his head but ultimately enjoying the chaos occurring at his dining room table. By the time everyone called it quits, Steve and Two-Bit both won one hand, Soda and Dally both won two, Johnny won three, and you won four. 

“Ponyboy, you have the worst poker face!” you exclaimed, laughing as you gathered the cards.

“You better not have any run-ins with the fuzz,” Two-Bit cackled, “you’ll crack for sure!”

“Now I know why gambling’s illegal. I barely have any cigarettes left. If we were betting real money, I would’ve lost my house,” Steve joked.

“That’s why you won’t be doin’ it with real money, isn’t that right boys?” Darry called with a stern look etched on his face.

The boys all nodded in unison, making you giggle.

“You going home tonight Johnny?” Dally questioned with concern.

Johnny shook his head, taking a seat on the couch.

“Speaking of going home, I think I overstayed my welcome. Besides, I need to start smoking all the cigarettes you guys let me steal from you,” you said with a wink, making the boys groan in response. 

You made your way toward the door, ruffling Pony’s hair as you walked past him.

“Y/N!” You turned around at the sound of Soda’s voice. “You could never overstay your welcome. You can come here whenever you like,” he said with a smile.

Your heart warmed at his words and you nodded appreciatively. You opened the door, tossing a goodbye over your shoulder as you exited, Dally close behind.

The two of you walked in silence for a while. You and Dally could talk about any and everything but as your relationship progressed, you also became comfortable in each other's quiet company. That being said, your mind was restless.

“Why did you ask Johnny if he was going home tonight?” you blurted.

“Johnny’s folks are no good, man,” Dally replied after a moment, “every time he goes home, he comes back with new bruises.” 

You nodded, thinking to yourself.

“Where does he go instead?” you questioned.

“He stays at the Curtis’ or he goes to the lot.”

You nibbled on your bottom lip. You hated that. You hated that Johnny was spending nights alone, sleeping on a busted seat in an empty lot. But what you hated, even more, was that he thought it better than being at home. If that place could even be called a home. The more you thought about it, the angrier you got. You clenched your hands at your sides.

Suddenly, you felt Dally’s hand grab your clenched one.

“I know. I hate it too. But you ain’t doin’ nothin’ for him by working yourself up over it, so relax,” he said.

You took a deep breath.

“You were- You were upset earlier. Why?” you interrogated.

Dallas often marveled at your ability to read him. You seemed to always know how he was feeling without him having to say a word. You just got him in a way no one had before.

“I just… I didn’t like how Soda was touching you, doll.”

“You were jealous?” you thought aloud, a smirk growing on your face.

“I wasn’t jealous,” Dally said defensively, looking away from you.

“You totally were!” 

“I wasn’t!”

“Just admit it, you were jealous!”

Dally stopped in front of your house, tackling you into a hug. 

“Shut up man,” Dally said, kissing your neck, causing you to giggle.

“We’ve talked about this though Dal,” you replied seriously. “You know I only have eyes for you.”

“I know, doll. But ya gotta understand. I don’t trust em’, other guys I mean,” said Dallas carefully.

“But you can trust me,” you replied earnestly, “and Soda’s your friend.”

“I know,” Dally looked at the ground. “Can I- I wanna give you somethin’.”

“What is it?” Dallas slowly removed his St. Christopher from his neck. “Oh Dally, I couldn’t-”

“I want you to have it,” he said resolutely, “come on, turn around”

You turned your back to Dallas, allowing him to secure the chain around your neck. You fiddled with the silver pendant. When he was finished, you turned to face him.

“Thank you. I’ll treasure it forever,” you said with a smile.

Dally looked down at you, placing his hands on your face. His thumbs stroked your cheeks before pressing a passionate kiss to your lips. You guys stayed like that for a while, kissing under a street lamp on a warm September night. 

✩⋆｡‧₊˚⭑˚₊‧｡⋆✩

Dallas Winston had completely changed your life. It was a surprise to everyone but you that he was capable of changing it for the better. His gang quickly adopted you into their group; you went to movies with Ponyboy, made lunches on weekdays for Darry, visited Soda and Steve at the DX, drank with Two-Bit on weekends, and all the while maintained your multi-weekly sleepovers with Dallas. Out of everyone, though, you had grown particularly close to Johnny.

You no longer allowed Johnny to sleep at the lot. If he couldn’t stay at the Curtis’, you insisted that he stay with you. Dally, admittedly, wasn’t overjoyed to be sharing you with his best friend but he knew you couldn’t bear to let Johnny sleep in the lot, especially with the changing season; It was one of the many things Dallas loved about you. You helped Johnny with his homework when you could, went to the Dingo, taught him how to play a variety of your favorite games, read to him, and even cleaned his wounds after he visited his parents. Despite popular belief, Johnny was smart. You truly loved and treated Johnny like a brother. And Johnny loved you too, the first woman in his life to treat him with compassion.

You were at the Curtis house baking cookies for the boys. It was the holiday season and you wanted to do something nice for the gang.

“Hurry up! I want my cookies!” shouted Two-Bit from the living room.

“You keep shouting at me, and you aren’t getting any!” you called back.

“Do we pour in the dry ingredients now?” asked Ponyboy.

“Not yet, Johnnycake hasn’t cracked the eggs,” you replied.

Johnny moved to crack the eggs. He disposed of the eggshells while you mixed the wet ingredients. Ponyboy poured in the dry ingredients, missing half the bowl. You shook your head as the boys laughed, sweeping the powder in with their hands. You were glad you cleaned the area and made the boys wash their hands before you started baking. Once everything was incorporated, Johnny started mixing. You busied yourself by greasing the cookie sheets. Pony leaned against the counter, gazing at Dally’s St. Christopher hanging around your neck.

“Y/N, are you in love with Dally?”

You nearly dropped the cookie sheet you were holding, making Johnny laugh.

“Yeah Y/N, are you in love?” Johnny said, teasing, but still genuinely curious.

“What kind of question is that?” you exclaimed, your face hot with embarrassment. The two boys looked at you expectantly, causing you to sigh. “Of course I do. I love Dally with all my heart. But we’ve never said anything like that to each other before so keep your mouths shut, you hear?” 

The boys nodded, smiling.

“What’s it like?” Johnny questioned.

“Soda says bein’ in love is real nice,” Ponyboy answered.

“Well, I can’t speak for Soda,” you said, “but being in love with Dal is like… being at the top of a roller coaster. It’s exciting and enthralling and it makes you feel all fuzzy.” Johnny and Ponyboy watched you carefully. “So- So I guess Soda’s right… it’s real nice,” you smiled.

✩⋆｡‧₊˚⭑˚₊‧｡⋆✩

Dallas hadn’t returned any of your calls in the past five days. You were rather busy as it was the beginning of a new year and you assumed Dally just hadn’t been able to get back to you. But when the weekend finally came and you still hadn’t heard back from him, you were beginning to feel worried. You walked over to Buck’s hoping to find him there but he wasn’t. Buck informed you that he hadn’t even seen Dally in the past five days. Hearing that immediately sent you from worried to full-on terrified. You ran as fast as you could to the Curtis house. 

You pushed the gate open and ran up the steps, frantically knocking on the door. Johnny opened it, looking down at you from your spot on the stairs.

“Johnnycake,” you spoke through labored breaths, “have you seen Dal? I went looking for him but Buck hasn’t seen him and he hasn’t answered any of my calls. I- I’m starting to get really worried, Johnny, please tell me you’ve seen him.”

“You mean you don’t know?” Johnny asked, shocked.

“Know what? Johnny, what’s going on?” Johnny pulled you inside, the whole gang was there, looking at you sorrily. “You guys are really freaking me out. Where’s Dal? What happened?”

“Dal’s in the cooler Y/N,” Two-Bit said finally.

The boys all looked to the ground, unable to meet your eyes.

“He’s- He’s what?” 

You couldn’t believe it. You didn’t want to believe it.

“Y/N-,” Soda started.

“No. No.” You shook your head, tears welling up in your eyes “Can I see him? I need to see him. Darry,” you approached him, “take me to see him. Please. Please take me to see him.”

Darry looked into your eyes, he'd never seen you so desperate.

“Alright kid, I’ll take you.”

“I’m coming too,” Johnny announced.

The car ride was quiet; the only sound that could be heard was the tires against the road. 

You knew Dallas had been to jail on multiple occasions for a variety of different stretches. But the image of Dally in a prison uniform, locked up in a cell, made your heart ache. Tears began streaming down your face at the thought. You laid your head on Johnny’s shoulder and cried silently.

When you arrived, Darry told you and Johnny to head inside while he waited in the car. The two of you met a lady at the front desk, giving her your names along with Dallas’. She invited you to wait while they informed him of your visit. Finally, she led the both of you to ‘the visitation room’.

There were two rows of seats facing each other, separated by glass. Each column was divided by walls, and a phone hung from the left wall of every column on both sides of the glass. Johnny stood at the edge of the room and you took a seat, fiddling with the pendant on the necklace Dally gave to you.

When Dallas entered, you watched from the other side of the glass as the cop removed the cuffs from his wrists. Dally had a nasty bruise on the side of his face. He sat at the seat across from you, picking up the phone. You copied his actions.

“Hey dollface.”

“Hey Dal,” you forced a smile, tears welling up in your eyes, “ are you okay?”

“I’ll be alright.”

“Is there really nothing I can do to get you out of here?” you questioned, tears spilling from your eyes.

“Please don’t cry, doll. I can’t stand to watch you cry.”

“This is killing me, Dal.”

“I know, doll. I know. And I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. But listen to me, alright? They said I got four months in here if I stay on my best behavior. I’m gonna be a saint, alright? I swear it. They’ll let me out early and I’ll come home to you. I promise,” he said decidedly. 

“Okay,” you nodded, tears streaming down your face.

“You gotta promise me you won’t come back here. I don’t want you to see me like this, ya understand? Just take care of the boys and wait for me. I promise I’ll come back to you.”

“Fine,” you said. “Dal, I-”

“Don’t say it. Not now. Just wait for me, alright?”

You nodded, hanging up the phone. You turned and left the room, Dally’s eyes on you as you exited. Dallas gestured for Johnny. 

Johnny sat down in your seat, picking up the phone just as you did.

“Hey Dal,” said Johnny.

“Hey kid. Listen, take care of Y/N for me, alright?”

“‘Course I will.”

“Thanks Johnnycake.”

Johnny had never heard Dallas say ‘thank you’ to anybody for anything. Johnny knew then that you were truly important to Dally, that Dally loved you.

✩⋆｡‧₊˚⭑˚₊‧｡⋆✩

That night, after your visitation with Dally, you stayed at the Curtis’; you fell asleep on Soda and Ponyboy’s shared bed, tucked between Johnny and Ponyboy as Pony read aloud.

In the following months, you did exactly what Dallas told you to do; you took care of the boys and waited for him. The boys took care of you too, sometimes unknowingly. Not a moment went by, though, that you didn’t think about Dally: his eyes, his smile, the feeling of his lips on yours. You missed him gravely and your driving force became the knowledge that he would, eventually, come home. 

It was a late morning at the Curtis house, as per usual on weekends. It had been four months since you had visited Dally in jail, but you believed that it was still far too early in the month for Dallas to be coming home anytime soon. You were cooking eggs and french toast for the boys, humming to the music playing through your record player. You had dragged the sound system over months prior, noticing that you were spending more time at the Curtis’ than your own home. You piled two pieces of toast next to some plated eggs. A new song began and you moved your hips to the rhythm, singing along. You were in your own world, completely unaware of what was happening in the rest of the house. You were dancing across the kitchen floor when you heard it, the voice you thought about every day for months.

“Jeez doll, I’m starting to think you didn’t miss me at all.”

You spun around so fast, you were impressed that you didn’t get whiplash. You dropped your spatula, legs carrying you as fast as they could, jumping into his arms. Dally laughed at the impact.

“Oh Dal, you’re home! You’re finally home!” you pressed your lips to his, months of longing behind a single kiss. You hugged him close. “I missed you so much.”

Suddenly, Dally threw you over his shoulder. You squealed in surprise. Dally made his way through the Curtis home, you giggling into his back. 

“Say bye to the boys, Y/N,” Dally announced.

"Bye!" you said, face red from the blood flow to your head.

A chorus of goodbyes could be heard from the boys as you exited.

✩⋆｡‧₊˚⭑˚₊‧｡⋆✩

You were laying in bed with Dallas in his single room above Buck’s bar, just like you had done many times before. But this time was different as you had waited months for this moment, to be in his arms again.

“I missed you so much Dal,” you reiterated.

“I missed ya too, doll. So much,” he said. Dallas looked into your eyes, stroking your cheek with his thumb. He remembered the thing you wanted to say to him when you visited him in jail, the thing he stopped you from saying, the thing he thought about you saying for the past four months. “I love you,” he blurted out, surprising himself and you. 

Your eyes widened at his confession, mouth slightly agape. You searched his eyes for any regret or doubt but there was none.

“I love you, Dal. I love you so much.”

He kissed you, tongue prodding at your bottom lip for entry. You allowed him, tongues molded together in an eloquent dance. When you parted, he rested his forehead against yours.

“I’m no good with words, doll. You know that. But I’m lucky. I’m lucky to love you.”

[ladyinwriting18]

Return (Rey x Ben)

Summary: After his death, Rey longs for the touch of her other half. That is until he comes to her and gives her hope that maybe…..just maybe he's actually alive.

Words: 4195 Warnings: PIV, Virgin Rey, First time sex. Author's Note: Hi everyone this is my first official Reylo writing. I've always enjoyed reading Reylo but never felt confident enough to write it. That is until an artist by the name of Claire (theriseofswolo on twitter) created a beautiful drawing of Rey and Ben that sparked my creativity to the point that I knew I had to write this. I hope you enjoy reading this!

“Rey…..”

Someone is calling her name. But she doesn’t feel like answering. “Rey?”

She groans, irritated that someone would try and disturb her sleep. “Can you hear me?”No. Well technically she could, but she didn’t want to. All she wants is to stay curled up in her bed. She had been restless for hours, like every other night. No amount of tossing and turning could bring her comfort. So now that the blissful oblivion that is sleep finally has finally taken her, she doesn’t like being bothered. This has been her life since settling on Tatooine. She’s able to keep herself busy during the day, but at night? That’s when loneliness creeps in. Slowly and inconspicuously, like a spider crawling along its web. “Rey, are you there?”

She had already said ‘No’. Because waking up now would mean another night awake with a pain reminiscent of her heart being chipped away at. Piece by piece until there’s nothing but an empty hole. She whimpers at the memory. Not wanting to experience that type of pain ever again. But this is her life now. This is what it feels like without her dyad…her other half. Without Ben. “Sweetheart, I need you to hear me.”

Her eyes flutter open then because no one has ever called her that before, and the only person who she’s imagined calling her that is— “Ben?” She turns over and finds him kneeling beside her.

But she is no longer in her bed and they aren’t in her bedroom. Around them is nothing but darkness. Except…it’s not the type of bleak darkness. There’s a glow…a warmth. As if the moon is bathing them in her light. But there is no moon or sky for that matter. In fact, there isn’t even a floor. Ripples of light fan out from where Ben crouches, giving the appearance that he’s sitting atop a pool of water. That’s when she notices that he isn’t wearing a stitch of clothing. “I’m dreaming,” she states, because this wouldn’t be the first time she’s seen him in dreams.

Like her own personal tormentor, her mind has a nasty habit of conjuring him when she’s at her most vulnerable. The sound of his voice, a flash of him from the corner of her eye, or fantasies where his life force hadn’t faded away on Exegol. But Ben shakes his head, looking far too beautiful for someone who had died bloody and bruised. “It’s not a dream, Rey. It…It feels like how it used to. When the Force would connect us.”

She slowly sits up, moving a fraction of an inch closer, and notices how he shifts to close his legs a bit more for modesty. He suddenly seems painfully aware of his nudity, but Rey is too entranced with the feeling of simply being here with him. He’s right. This feels like when the Force started bringing them together while she was on Luke’s island. Except, now they’ve been through so much–both together and separately. “But how is that possible? I watched you die…I felt it.” She grabs the front of her shirt, right above her heart, sounding pained. But before Ben can respond, her eyes shift back to his. “Are…are you real?” His brows furrow slightly, and he looks down at his hand as if to study it. “I suppose…” If he wanted to say more, she doesn’t give him the chance, because she’s throwing herself into his arms. There’s only one way to find out, and this is it. She buries herself into his chest—finding him solid and warm. His arms come around her, holding her steady as he plants his foot to keep them from toppling over. A strangled sob leaves her. “I can touch you! You’re here.” She cups the side of his face, threading her fingers through his hair. They brush against his ear, his—as she just found out—adorably large ear. Tears blur her vision. “You’re really here.” Realization crashes over them and quickly turns into emotions. Raw, powerful emotions that have them both groping at one another. Her hands grip his face and shoulders, while his own cradle the back of her head and spine. “I feel you,” he gasps, his own eyes starting to water. “Stars, I can really feel you.” And then they’re kissing so hard that their tears begin to mingle, but neither of them cares. Not when they feel undeniably whole. All the jagged pieces within them soften and dull until they slip together like puzzle pieces. Everything feels right. No more sadness. No more pain. No more longing. It’s just them. The way it was always meant to be, even before they knew one another’s names. Rey isn’t sure how, but somehow in the midst of their kissing, they had shifted. She’s lying on her back now, with him leaning over her to the point that she’s trapped beneath him. She can feel every inch of his muscular frame pressed against hers, but it isn’t enough…she needs more. 

Pulling at his broad shoulders, she coaxes him to rest his full weight on her. He hesitates and she huffs, tugging firmer until he gives in. There can be no separation between them. Not now or ever again. She wouldn’t go back to the numbing bleakness that she’d been living in since defeating Palpatine. Their mouths slant over one another's, deepening the kiss. She feels the tip of his tongue glide along her bottom lip, causing a moan to slip out. He answers her moan with one of his own, except it’s deeper and hungrier. It makes her shiver and her hips involuntarily buck. That’s when she feels something hard pulse against her thigh. Her eyes dart downwards and catch a glimpse of his member. It’s long and thick with trimmed black curls at the base. And though Rey has never seen one up close…or really at all. She’s overheard Poe enough times to know that when a man hardens like that, it’s because he wants to have sex. 

Ben Solo wants to have sex with her.  Her heart pounds in her breastbone like the steady beat of a drum. She knows she wants this because there’s no one else she feels she’s meant to be with. However, that doesn’t rid her of her anxieties. 

She needs to tell him that this is her first time or else she risks making a fool of herself. She doesn’t want that. She wants her first time to be perfect. He’s still kissing her, lost in tasting her mouth with his tongue. She can already feel a wetness pooling between her legs at the skillful way he moves his tongue. It’s near impossible to break away but she knows she has to. 

“B-Ben,” she tries to hide the tremble of her words and her blush-stained cheeks. “I’ve…never done this before.” “Do you want to stop?” he asks immediately. “No!” she shouts back, effectively shutting him up. Embarrassed, she clears her throat and lowers her voice. “I don’t want to stop. I want to be close to you…As close as I possibly can be.” His dark eyes seem to soften as a small smile tugs at his mouth. “I want that too, more than anything.”  She tries to not let her inexperience show, even though she’s already admitted the truth. “Will…Can you teach me?” A chuckle bubbles up from his chest, momentarily upsetting her. Is he laughing at her? But he chases those worries away when he nuzzles the tip of his nose against hers and then places a kiss on her forehead. “Of course, Sweetheart.” That name again. It has her toes curling. 

She’d do anything to hear him call her that again. His fingers tug at the hem of her nightshirt, instantly refocusing her attention. He undresses her slowly, admiring every bit of newly exposed skin. Anytime she tries to help, he shoos her hands away. “This is my job tonight,” he whispers just before leaving a delicate kiss on her right nipple. His lips are so full that she finds herself wondering how they would feel kissing all of her. With his knee, he nudges her legs apart so his fingertips can trace along her belly before traveling further until they reach the dark nest of hair that lay between her thighs. She watches his every move with wide eyes. “Do you know what this is called?” he asks lustfully before moving his hand to his own body and gently gripping himself at the base. “And this?” Heat burns her cheeks all the way down to the tops of her breasts. “Of course I do!” she snaps. “I’m not an idiot!” 

His features harden. “Do not call yourself that, do you understand me?” His tone is stern, sounding more like he did when he went by the name Kylo Ren. It gives her pause, but in this context, also excites her. When she doesn’t argue, he relaxes. “I wasn’t saying you’re an idiot. I was only trying to see if I could ask you my next question.” “Which is?” He meets her gaze, looking rather smug. “Do you know what happens between a man and a woman? How they become one?”

Not wanting to lose her nerve, she attempts to answer, “They…You…put yourself inside.” “That’s right.” He grins as he praises her. “And then what?” Rey swears her entire face is redder than the Tatooine suns. “Go on, Sweetheart,” he croons. “Say it.” 

“I…” He must sense that her uncertainty is getting the better of her because he finishes for her. “I fuck you until you cum for me.” Her throat has gone dry so she merely nods. “Is that what you want, Rey?” Something tells her that nodding won’t be enough for him. “Y-Yes…And I…I want to know how to make you feel good too.” “Shhhh,” he soothes while smoothing down her hair, “Don’t worry so much about that. Whatever brings you pleasure will do the same for me.” She nods, willing herself to believe him. “Will…Will it hurt?” Refusing to lie to her, he answers honestly, “It might. The first time usually does for women, but I’m going to take care of you and I’ll stop the moment you need me to.” She nods again, and Ben brings his hand back between her legs. “Do you trust me?” “More than anything,” she responds without hesitation. No sooner than the words leave her lips does he cup her sex in his palm. His fingers spread her open, gliding through her folds. “Shit,” he curses breathlessly. “You’re already starting to get wet.” “Is that a good thing?” she can’t help but ask. He kisses her with a nod of his head. “It means you're aroused. It’s your body’s way of getting ready to–” “Take you inside?” she tries finishing for him. The words sound rather juvenile to her, but from the hunger in Ben’s eyes, he very much enjoyed hearing her say it. His fingers brush against that sensitive bud that Rey has only ever accidentally touched. She gasps, feeling her legs unconsciously open wider. He repeats the action and her head falls back onto the floor with a soft thud. “Have you ever touched yourself here? Have you made yourself cum before?” The light touches turn into slightly firmer circles and she swears she can see stars. She tries answering both of his questions at the same time even though all she wants to do is moan. “N-No, never. Not on purpose. And it…it never felt like this.” She’s very aware that she isn’t making sense, so instead she sends her thoughts through their bond. No, she’s never made herself cum before. She’s only ever touched herself accidentally or out of curiosity. But his touch? His touch feels different. He cocks his head to the side. “Different how?” She had been praying that he wouldn’t ask her to explain, but of course, he does anyway. “Feels…better. Your fingers feel better.” The cocky grin tugs at the corners of his mouth, reminding her of Han. He’s more like his father than he could possibly know. His fingers pick up their tempo, rubbing her harder and faster until she’s bucking up into his touch. “That’s it, just like that,” he praises, keeping her caged beneath him no matter how hard she thrashes. “I can feel your clit pulsing against my fingertips. Are you going to cum, Sweetheart?” “I don’t know!” she sobs, her hands gripping his biceps hard enough that her nails leave half-moon imprints behind. “Hmm, let me try this,” he muses, more to himself than to her, but all the same, he shifts the position of his fingers—leaving his thumb on her clit and the rest of his fingers down by her opening. She feels every nerve ending on her body sparking like an electrical wire when one of his fingers slips inside of her. His digit is thick and long just like the rest of him. It feels good but she tenses when she realizes he’s inside. “Shhhh, Rey. It’s alright. You’re alright. I’m going to go as slow as you need me to.” She hadn’t realized that she had shut her eyes, so she opens them and finds Ben smiling down at her. “That’s better. Now, take a deep breath with me.” He doesn’t wait for a response, just demonstrates how he wants her to breathe. This doesn’t seem like the time to argue, so she follows his instructions. Breathe in. Hold it. Count to five. And release. Somehow that pause was all she needed to bring her focus back on the pleasure. She looks at him and gives him a small nod for him to continue. He moves his finger in and out of her depths slowly. So slowly that she almost feels impatient, but he clearly has more experience with this than she does.

The thought causes a crease to form in her brow. However, Ben is there to kiss it away. “Don’t think about that, because they were never who I needed…They were never you.” Tears prickle at her eyes but she doesn’t want to cry again. She links her arm around the back of his neck, pulling him back to her and kissing him as she tells him not to stop. Eagerly, he returns her kiss and resumes the movement of his finger. He works it in and out of her, gradually picking up the pace. She starts making the lewdest, whiniest noises she’s ever heard. She’d be worried about sounding pathetic if he wasn’t rolling his hips into her thigh in an attempt to gain relief from his ever-growing erection. Doing this with him feels filthy, and yet…so right. Like this had always been where she was meant to be. “Can you take another finger for me, Sweetheart?” She’s already a babbling mess so she mumbles out an ‘uh-huh’ and a second finger enters her, filling her up and stretching her out. She wonders if it should hurt, but it doesn’t. Especially not when his thumb keeps its attention on her clit. Her mouth falls open into a tiny ‘o’ and her body trembles while more heat continues to pool and drip out of her. “You’re beautiful. I could watch you like this forever.” Rey shakes her head ‘No’. She’s never thought much about her looks one way or the other, but beautiful? That’s not a word she’s ever used to describe herself. “You are, Rey. So fucking beautiful and all mine.” That part she can agree with. She is his. All of her. Just like he is hers. Desperately, she tries to say that out loud but it’s too difficult forming words when there’s an unfamiliar pressure building up in her lower belly. She whines his name, dragging out the letters in a desperate attempt to get him to understand her needs. He presses his lips to her temple. “I think someone is about to have their first orgasm.” She shakes her head ‘No’, not wanting this to be how it happens. “Together. W-Want to cum together.” Ben smiles wide enough to show his teeth and lovingly whispers, “We can and we will, but let yourself cum like this first.” “No, not yet.” He’s clearly trying to be patient with her. “Rey, women can cum more than once. It’s alright–” But she cuts him off with another defiant shake of her head. “Together, I want it to happen together!” He gives in with a playful huff. “I almost forgot how stubborn you can be.” She’s tempted to debate him on that, but the words die on her tongue when his hand is replaced with his torso settling between her thighs. It was happening—they were about to become one. She’s never felt more excited and anxious all at once. Sensing her emotions, Ben runs his hands along the sides of her body. “I feel it too.” She chuckles at his choice of words, recognizing them from the first time they met. Guiding the tip of his length to her slit, he breathes in deep to keep in control. As much as he didn’t want to cause her pain, the ache in his balls makes him want to bury himself in deep. “If I hurt you, I need you to tell me the moment it becomes too much, do you understand?” “I understand, but you won’t hurt me, Ben. I trust you.” Hearing this renews his confidence. No matter what happened next, he would be here to take care of her. As carefully as he possibly can, he pushes into her. Her walls are slick from being so close to her peak, but still, her face contorts in pain once he’s almost fully inside of her.  Ben stops his movements, allowing her to adjust to his size. He can’t deny how challenging it is to not ram himself into her at full force. She swallowed him up, urging him to fill her with cum.

He focuses on steadily breathing through his nose, holding eye contact as he slowly inches out–watching her face for any signs of discomfort. He works on sliding in and out with slow, calm thrusts. The resistance of her inner walls starts to lessen. That is until he presses forward—entering her deeper than before. She winces, making a strangled-sounding noise in the back of her throat.

Ben’s breathing is ragged…uneven. He would do this right. He would take care of her. “Are you alright?”

She responds with a high-pitched, ‘Mhmm’, and he knows she’s lying. He stops moving altogether and cups the side of her face. Closing his eyes, he sends soothing tendrils of the Force through her, minimizing her sensation of pain so that she doesn’t have to suffer. Within moments, her face relaxes. “Better?” he asks and she silently nods in amazement. He tests the waters by cautiously thrusting his hips into hers and is relieved when she sighs in pleasure. It isn’t long until those sighs turn into moans as she holds tightly to his shoulders. He feels her legs shifting on either side of him, opening up for him like a flower in bloom. “Go on, wrap your legs around me.” His permission has her feeling bold so she brings her legs up, interlocking her ankles behind his back. The new position has the tip of him brushing some magical part inside of her that makes her feel like she’s soaring and choking all at the same time. 

“Fuck,” he swears with a slight tremble in his voice. “You feel so good wrapped around my cock.” She’d never heard it called that before, but Stars did it sound good when he said it like that. She whines his name, begging for more once she has his attention. He moves his hand between their bodies and finds her clit again. “B-Ben! F-Feels good. I–” She can’t continue because her eyes are falling closed and her breaths are coming out in shallow gasps. 

Behind her eyes, colors splash together in a messy portrait that depicts every action that has led them to this moment. It’s overwhelming to the point that she thinks she might cry, but Ben’s hand slides along her cheek. “Sweetheart, look at me.” She does and finds him breathless, panting above her with sweat beading along his brow and his hair disheveled. He looks wild…needy…and all hers. “I love you, Rey.” Her heart swells and fresh tears roll down her cheeks. “I love you too. L-Love you so much.” Her words spur him on, he grips her hip in his hand, hard enough to leave markings of his fingertips behind, and picks up the pace of his thrusts.  “N-Need you to cum. I need to feel it.” He doesn’t have to beg for her to hear his plea. She nods, the pressure in her stomach from earlier returning. It’s all too much and yet not enough. Is this what cumming felt like? “I…I feel like I might b-break!” she cries out, unsure, but unable to stop her body's natural reaction. Ben groans, head tilting back for just a moment at the feeling of her clenching even tighter around his cock. He’s so close, just at the very edge, but he wouldn’t fall into oblivion. Not without his Rey. “Yes. F-Fuck yes, just like that. Just let go and let yourself cum.” Her back arches off the floor and her cries go quiet. “Cum for me sweet girl.” Then comes the unfiltered and unrestrained song of her orgasm.

Trembling, pure, and breathtaking. The sheer beauty of it sends Ben over the edge, cumming with a shout of her name and emptying himself inside of her. He can’t remember the last time he came so hard. Maybe it was never. Maybe only Rey could make him cum like this. Together they rock through their aftershocks, clinging on tightly to one another as they refill their lungs with enough air to function. When he no longer feels like a newborn fathier, Ben detangles himself from her and lays down on his side. Rey turns over to face him, coyishly biting her bottom lip. “Hi.” He hums, slinging his arm over her waist and hauling her to him. “Hi there, beautiful.” This time when he calls her beautiful, she blushes, burrowing herself into his muscular body. “That was…” She struggles to find the right word to describe what they’d just done. She tilts her head up, chin resting on his chest, and says the only word she can think of, “Wonderful.” He grins smugly, brushing his lips against hers before huskily whispering, “You can say that again.” Rey giggles. She’s never been flirted with before, least of all by the former Supreme Leader. She decides that she likes this new side of him and snakes her arms around his middle for a hug. He hugs her right back, shifting a bit so he’s on his back and she can use him as a pillow. With her ear placed over his heart and Ben’s fingers running along her spine, it isn’t long before exhaustion creeps into her limbs. She stifles a yawn but there’s no use trying to hide from her dyad. “Sweetheart, I can sense how tired you are. Why won’t you let yourself sleep?” She forces herself to lift her head and shakes it, hysteria overtaking her thoughts. “I can’t! Ben, what if when I wake up, you’re gone again? What if this is a dream?” He firmly takes her face in his hands so she can’t look away. “It isn’t a dream. I’m here, Rey. Do you—” But his voice goes mute. His lips move but no sound comes. “Ben? W-What’s happening?” Rey watches in horror, feeling him slipping from her. His form is fading and so is hers. He realizes it too and frantically tries to hold onto her. “No! Don’t go! Please don’t leave me again!” She goes to grab his shoulders but her fingers touch nothing but air. “Don’t, Ben! Please! Come back!” Rey bolts upwards and finds herself back in her own bed. Alone. Sobs wrack her slender frame before she has time to even fully process anything. She cries like a child who’s lost their mother with hot, heavy tears that stain the blanket in her lap. How could she have been so stupid to think that Ben had actually found his way back to her? She goes to pull her knees to her chest but is greeted with a throbbing soreness from between her legs. Lowering the blankets, she not only finds that she’s naked, but there is a bit of dry blood on the sheets below her. How could that be? Her eyes dart around, looking for any other sign of him but all she finds is a newly forming bruise on her hip. One that distinctly looks like someone’s hand had been there. Ben’s hand.

He had touched her.

It had been real.

Rey turns her head to her bedroom window and looks at the rising Tatooine suns with a new sense of purpose.

It was time to go and find her other half so she could bring him home.

[that-bwitch]

(five) stages of grief (love)

stage one: denial

so, this is going to be a series with five parts, obviously. heavily inspired by the band voilà and some of their songs. each song has an assigned part and will be revealed at the beginning. you don't have to, but I'd strongly recommend checking them out, as they're not only good songs, but will also elevate your reading experience.

also, since it's a series, I will be doing a taglist, so if you'd like to be added, let me know <3

falling asleep at the wheel by voilà sirius black x reader warning: toxic relationship, gaslighting, emotional abuse, swearing, drinking, mentions of underage drinking. read at your own risk. wc: 3.2k

The two of you were just a couple of young kids suddenly thrust into adulthood.

During the last few months at Hogwarts the thoughts about the future couldn’t escape your mind. It felt strange in a sense, because you remembered planning out your life after school down to the smallest details. You had your mind set on becoming a healer for a long, long while. You studied pretty much every single day, dusk till dawn, dawn till dusk – you had to ace the N.E.W.Ts or else your childhood dream would be crushed by the ruthless claws of the education system. Sirius never got that. He sounded rather nonchalant every time you tried to have a talk about the future, even when it came to the future of you as a couple. He didn’t have any plans, at least as far as you were aware. He brushed off your worries like they were specks of dust on one of his immaculate white shirts (two buttons at the top always undone, three – on special occasions). At some point, you had to give up trying to hammer at least some sense of responsibility into his head (not literally, but sometimes you really wanted to). But you stupidly didn’t, so you had to deal with an actual toddler of a boyfriend on top of your daily stress of the ever-accumulating homework and extra credit tasks you never failed to take.

Sirius was annoyed by your never-ending passion to study as much and as often as you could. He always joked about the fact that he had never spent this much time in the library as he started to when you got together. That much was true: in order to catch mere minutes with you he had to visit the quietest place in Hogwarts rather often – way more often than he would prefer. He wasn’t really joking when he said it though, and you started to catch irritated glances from him from time to time as your relationship progressed. At first, he used to compliment your longing for knowledge, he used to say you looked cute cuddled up with a book on a couch in the common room; as time went by, the number and the poetic value of his compliments had majorly decreased.

Sirius couldn’t help thinking that he didn’t sign up for this, but he didn’t have enough nerve to voice these thoughts. Still, you started having more and more fights. In your mind, you shouldn’t have had any during the so-called “honeymoon phase” of your relationship, but you chucked it all up to simple teenage drama. You thought it was brilliantly self-aware of you, but obviously it didn’t seem like it to Sirius. He hated the fact that he had to scramble for crumbs of your attention and lost the battle against your textbooks more than half the time. He wasn’t used to being sidelined, more so when his opponent was an ancient Herbology volume that looked like it was about to disintegrate in your hands as soon as you breathed on it.

You still had love for each other. It wasn’t puppy love, oh no – your eyes would shoot daggers at anyone who even dared to suggest it. Sirius was also of an incredibly high opinion of that thing between the two of you, calling you “star-crossed lovers” and “the modern version of Romeo and Juliet”. He started using the latter as soon as you made him acquainted with this terribly upsetting love story written by a muggle literary genius, and wouldn’t let it go even after learning that these kids did, in fact, die. He always assured you that you wouldn’t end up like them, that even death couldn’t do you part, and you just knew he was right. You just knew.

“So, what’s next?”

You were standing on the platform, waiting for Hogwarts Express to pick you up and take you away into the likely gray and rainy but still welcoming embrace of London. Your eyes were still glistening in the sun from all the tears you shed during the graduation ceremony. You kept sobbing as you left the school grounds on the same boats that took you there when you were just a small child with a dream. To be honest, you still felt like a child with a dream; suddenly, you weren’t fully ready to take the next step that could take your life in various directions even you, a goody-two-shoes with spreadsheets tracking her exam scores, didn’t have the ability to predict.

“I don’t know, baby. We’ll figure it out.”

Sirius was as laconic as he usually was when it came to these kinds of talks. His hands were wrapped around your waist, bringing you some sense of comfort in front of this huge uncharted wasteland that was the future. You looked up at him, exploring every single feature of his carefree face, completely unbothered by any mighty thinking. You wanted to remember him like that.

“Oh, the lovebirds are at it again, look at them!” James yelled, running up to you hand in hand with Lily. You let out a little laugh, because he seemed to be blissfully unaware of him being a member of the “lovebirds club” as well.

“You ready?” he asked, hugging Lily from behind as they stopped next to you.

“Born ready.”

It was such a Sirius line. You remembered getting annoyed at how he inevitably used it every time you questioned his lack of concern about tomorrow. He was born ready to face anything – McGonagall’s justified wrath when he failed (or, more precisely, didn’t even start) to complete the simplest Transfiguration homework known to man; raging Slytherins after a particularly nasty Quidditch loss; a hangover after getting wasted on very illegal firewhiskey that the guys managed to get at the Hog’s Head and sneak into school. You weren’t born ready, so you felt his words were rather offensive towards your anxious state.

“Where’s Moony? He’s always wandering somewhere; I’m shocked he hadn’t missed a train once!”

Just as Sirius’ words escaped his mouth, someone’s hand landed on his shoulder. Remus was all smiles, running his other hand through his hair to move some stray strands from his face.

“Here, Pads, don’t you worry. Wonder where this little rat is, though. Peter!!!” Remus screamed at the top of his lungs to cover as much ground as possible.

“Coming!” Peter approached your group, slightly out of breath.

You felt like you were in a dream – you know, one of those you wake up from and have to take an extra minute to yourself to come back to Earth; you can’t believe it didn’t happen in real life. That moment at the platform awoke the same exact emotions in you. You had all your friends around you, you should have been over the moon and looking forward to what life had to offer – and somewhere deep inside your mind and soul you were. But you felt your stomach turn all the same, looking back at the glorious castle that towered over the crowd of new graduates even in the distance. For the first time in years, you knew for sure that you wouldn’t be returning there on the 1st of September. But it would be the last time you would cram yourself into the carriage with your closest ones, the last time you would laugh your asses off for the whole Express to hear, the last time you would say your goodbyes on the Platform 9 ¾ and not know when would be the next time you see each other.

“Hey, baby?” Sirius gently nudged your shoulder, drawing your wandering attention. “You seem lost.”

“Can’t believe we’re leaving, is all.”

Your voice was hoarse and quiet, like it didn’t belong to you at all. Sirius pressed his lips against your temple, leaving a trace of lingering warmth. At the moment, he made sure you knew that you were his world and he was yours. The voices of your friends around you were muffled by the soft and fresh cotton blanket of his love.

“We’ll be fine, baby. I promise, we’ll be fine.”

And you wanted to believe him.

The couch in your tiny rented flat was all beaten up and shabby, but as long as it was Sirius whose breath your felt on your skin while you lay on it, it didn’t matter. The whole flat had most definitely seen better days, but it was your home, your first home together, so it already had sentimental value assigned to it. Were you too young at this tender age to live together? Too young to shoulder the responsibilities that the very unforgiving Big World had yet to put on your shoulders? Your parents would enthusiastically agree, but you and Sirius would just roll your eyes in sync and you would add that you weren’t their little baby girl anymore. Then you would soften, because you loved your parents a lot, even when they were insufferable! – and assure them that they could calm down, that you had everything figured out, that you would send them owls at least every three days and visit at least once every two weeks. Your mom would laugh and say that promises were nice, but if you were to succeed in becoming a Healer like you wanted, you would never have time for all that. And you would leave, realizing with stifling regret that she was right.

“Baby, I’m sorry, I have to go,” you whispered into Sirius’ ear. He seemed to have fallen asleep, but as soon as you moved your body to lift yourself up from the couch, his eyes snapped open and he strengthened the hold he had on you. You sighed and pushed yourself against his chest, trying to unglue his tightly locked arms.

“No, Sirius, really, let me go.”

“Why would I?” he wondered, determined, of course, not to let you leave him on the couch all alone. “You’re warm, you’re soft, tonight I slept for two hours… See?”

You closed your eyes for a brief moment, clearing your head without any pressure that Sirius liked inflicting on you with his puppy eyes. Lately you had to deal with them and his pleading far too often. It had only been two weeks since you moved in together, but tension hadn’t left the air since day one, when you couldn’t agree on the chore chart you suggested – as in, Sirius didn’t want to have one at all. He thought it was perfectly fine to leave dirty dishes in the sink, to leave dust to accumulate in layers on every surface imaginable – he was a wizard, after all! He could do it whenever, so why would he spend his precious time that you can’t get back on some measly chores? His attitude drove you insane, but each time you had a fight about it, you had to let it go until another little thing would make you lose your temper. He just. Wasn’t. Cooperating. In anything.

“Sirius, love, my apprenticeship. Why do you always forget?”

“Oh yeah. Sure. Your apprenticeship.”

Sirius loosened his grip and you were able to slip away to finally start getting dressed. His bitter verbal quotation marks were a given whenever he mentioned your new job. As soon as you heard the tone of his voice, you slapped your palms against your face so hard that you could hear the sound faintly ringing in the air, and let out a whistling breath into the gaps between your fingers.

“Again?”

“What? I just said “sure”, is that not allowed anymore?”

Sirius was getting angry. You could tell by way his chest heaved harder than usual and his hands, albeit still resting on his stomach, were clenched together, knuckles so white they could blind the sun itself.

“You know what you said, Sirius. I’m not stupid.”

You didn’t have time to deal with all this nonsense, you would hate to be late to St Mungo’s again. Besides, throughout the whole fortnight you had been living together so far, you started to grow increasingly more anxious and irater whenever you had to mention your newfound venture even in a brief recollection of you day. Sirius would never leave it be, he would always, always do something or say something that hurt you. He didn’t do it maliciously, he told you anytime you took notice of that, he was just reacting, you knew how he felt about you always being away, and blah-blah-blah, and so on… You believed him, you tried really hard to believe him and spent hours on hours on hours persuading yourself that he didn’t mean it, that he loved you and was happy for you.

“Whatever. You can leave. It’s not like I’m locking the door.”

He knew you hated it. He knew how much you despised getting out of the house with a fight between the two of you still looming like the sword of Damocles above your head during the day. He also knew that you would likely forget about the whole deal by the end of it, or at least would try smoothing things over. You hated fighting. But this time he was mistaken – rage you had accrued by that point was burning you up from the inside and you were tired of the endless piles of shit he kept throwing your way.

“You know what, Sirius? You’re a real fucking asshole!”

That was a pretty pathetic insult, you thought, but turned out, it was just enough to get Sirius all riled up. He jumped up from the couch and in seconds he was standing right in front of you, spitting words straight into your face.

“A real fucking asshole?! Come on, baby, who taught you to swear? A fucking child?”

“Yes, it was you, so yes, a fucking child!”

Sirius stepped back, raising his eyebrows sarcastically and bursting out laughing. He was hysterical, by the sounds of it.

“I’m a child? I am a child?! And who are you then, my poor, poor soul? Because throwing me crumbs when your fucking hospital gets the whole three-course meal is real mature!”

And there he was again, shitting all over you like it was small talk.

“Could you ever respect my job?! Is this too much that I’m asking?!”

Your arms hurt from waving them around so much. You wished you could stay calm, as always, you wished you had just left, then came back at the end of the day and everything was alright. But deep down you knew this whole delusional bubble would burst at some point. Sooner was better than later.

“Come on, what job? What job?! 2 galleons a day is a-fucking-lot, isn’t it, love?”

A wave of pure shock nearly knocked you down. Your nose started tingling, signaling the imminent arrival of those pesky motherfuckers called tears. Sirius never talked about money to you, on the contrary, it was always your initiative to go over your budget for the week. He never agreed, because he felt it was too burdensome, and now he was throwing it straight back into your desperate face.

“At least I don’t sit on my ass all day! Your part-time at Fortescue’s is so much better, right?! Why don’t you try the Hog’s Head next?”

You knew you struck a nerve. You couldn’t even deny doing it deliberately, just to show him that it hurt. Sirius never explained his choice of career to you, but he seemed happy enough, so you never let it bother you. But his unwillingness to actually properly discuss it made you think he wasn’t that satisfied. You saw it on his face right after you blurted out your little speech.

“Oh yeah, I do sit on my ass all day, and you know what? Even I earn more than you!”

Sirius wasn’t that easy to break, you knew it, but you hoped that you could maybe just this one time… And you also knew that you brought this storm upon yourself, because when Sirius was angry, he could say anything, literally anything without a care in the world, something he would probably regret later. You could never guess if he actually did, but your heart was desperate to believe so. It didn’t happen often, but whenever it did, it stung like a thousand wasps landed on you at the same time and plunged their stingers deep inside your skin at the same exact spot.

“So, it is about the money?”

You weren’t shouting anymore. Any leftover strength fled your body, so you had to sit back down on the couch, staring at Sirius as he was going blurry in front of you, as if he was already drowning in the upcoming stream of your tears.

“No? If that’s what you’re getting… well, good fucking luck.”

Sirius threw his hands up, as if he was giving up. He leaned on the wall and crossed his arms on his still heavily heaving chest, looking somewhere through the leaking ceiling.

“What is it then?” you asked, almost in a whisper, because you truly did not have it in you to even raise your voice, let alone have a screaming match.

“Really? I fucking love you, that’s what!”

Sirius did have it in him. He tried really hard to ignore your fallen spirit; he felt the need to dump the entirety of his emotional outburst on you, because when else would he do it? Things were already perfectly awful, so nothing had the capacity to make the situation worse.

You wished you had some magical noise-cancelling earmuffs that would drown out his voice. After everything he said (and had been saying before) he had the audacity to tell you that he loved you? Indeed, he did. It was no surprise, unfortunately. All your fights ended up like that – he told you that he loved you, that he was just afraid of losing you, that you were his everything; he begged you to say that you loved him too. He needed to hear it, he cried. And you would always crumble right there with him. You forgave him every. Single. Time. And then he went back to his usual careless self.

“I want to be with you in every possible way, do you understand that? Emotionally, spiritually, or whatever the fuck you call it, and physically.” Sirius took your silence as a go-ahead for him to continue, his voice still raised. “And right now, I can’t have that. And I don’t like it at all, I hate it with a burning passion. Why can’t you see it?” he finished much softer.

You finally let a violent shower of tears leave your eyes. You couldn’t stand crying in front of Sirius – it was a sign he won. But he never let it show. He could finally play the part he knew and loved the most: a wonderful apologetic boyfriend who pulled you into his arms, cradled you like a baby and gave your head thousands of little kisses while you wept into his shoulder. He apologized over and over and you felt guilty for making him do it. Ultimately, he was right. Maybe you were selfish, maybe you didn’t have your priorities straight, maybe you wronged him each and every time you took an extra shift at St Mungo’s to prove yourself as a reliable Trainee Healer. Maybe he did love you more than life itself. Maybe he was your fate, your forever and ever, and you were his.

“We’ll be fine, baby. I promise, we’ll be fine.”

You had already heard these words before. You believed them.

[fangirleaconmigo]

We all know that Geralt loves his bard, but do you think he finds it a bit funny when Dandelion’s students respectfully calls him “Master Dandelion” like he’s a very responsible and sensible person?

Hi Anon! Oh that’s a hilarious thought. Ok here’s how I would imagine it.

Geralt to other people when Dandelion isn’t around:

He’s a Master Tutor at Oxenfurt, you know. Master of the Seven Liberal Arts. Graduated with top marks, and he barely even studied.

Geralt to Dandelion’s students when Dandelion isn’t around:

He isn’t just your Tutor, you know. He is famous. Properly famous. Probably the most famous bard on the continent. Did you know that?

Gerald to other professors when Dandelion isn’t around:

My friend Dandelion is on the faculty here. They beg him to come lecture, but he always puts them off. I guess he finds it more interesting to run around with me. *shrugs smugly* Real world experience, you know. First hand knowledge. It probably makes his lectures just a little bit more interesting. A little more concrete and accurate.

Geralt to Nenneke: he’s a—-

Nenneke *sick of his shit*: I know, you’ve told me, a Master Tutor. He’s still an idiot.

Geralt, very pointedly, to the clerk at a campus bookshop who says he cannot sell Geralt the book he wants.

That man out there is on the faculty. *points at Dandelion, who is standing outside the shop doing something stupid like trying to take off his coat and getting tangled in it* HE is very fucking important. You’re lucky he’s even standing outside your shop. Are you sure you don’t want to sell me that book?

Geralt, alone with Dandelion:

*when Dandelion is drunkenly rambling pure bullshit* Ha! Is that what you teach your students, oh great Master Tutor? And I thought Oxenfurt was supposed to be a great bastion of learning. They should close that place down. Turn it into something useful, like public latrines. Then there’d be an explanation for why you talk nothing but utter shit.

*when Dandelion is obnoxiously psychoanalyzing him* They give those degrees to anyone don’t they? Random assholes just walking by on their way to take a piss get handed a *mocking voice* master of the seven liberal arts.

*when Dandelion admonishes him for some kind of careless behavior* Well I guess you should have taught me better, great Master Tutor. Maybe you aren’t such a great Master Tutor at all.

*when Dandelion is being irritating at a brothel* Be good, or they’re gonna make you master your own tutor. *looks very pleased with himself*

*when he is getting bad service at that campus bookshop so he goes outside to hiss at Dandelion*

What the fuck good is your fancy godsdamn degree if it can’t even get me the one book I want (the taxonomy of reptilian land monsters) at the campus godsdamn bookshop? Go tell that kid you’re on the faculty, or I’ll burn your degree for kindling. It’d be more useful warming my fingers so I can more comfortably pick my nose.

(And on and on)

[frogchiro]

No but imagine this, dottore with an s/o or crush that was nice and friendly with him during his academia days that he grow so attached to them he became obsessed 👁👁 bonus points if when they meet again years after graduation (in his case getting kicked out lmao) but they no longer view him in a positive light that it becomes enemies to lovers(?) with dottore being a full on yandere

IDK there's just something so satisfying with the trope of mf who's willing to burn down the whole world for their darling while darling either hardly notices them or is oblivious 😭😭😭 especially this trope with the fatui 🤭

A 1000x yes to this😭 also the trop of a villain who's ready to burn down the whole world for you is one of my absolute all time favorites <3

gn!reader, yandere!dottore, mention of a panic attack, a tiny bit of cursing and violence but really nothing major

ok so i think it's canon that dottore while still studying at sumeru academia was terribly bullied and called a heretic? so i imagine that his darling was a star student, very well liked among both peers and teachers and as a side hustle/hobby has been researching about khaen'riah but that's for later

so when they were walking at night around the school grounds they saw someone getting pushed and cursed at and darling being curious went over to investigate and saw a young man getting beaten up by three much bigger men

after interrupting the petty squabble by threatening with calling for a teacher and being called a 'bitter bitch' you help the sage haired man up and ask if everything is okay.

the first thing you notice about him besides his hair color are the rows of razor sharp, shark-like teeth that he clenches, from pain perhaps? he did take some pretty strong punches, moreover he's not the biggest around.

your worry from dottore's point of view was pointless and annoying, a pain in the ass, really. besides come on, just how much more cliche it can get? the star student of sumeru academia, the up and coming researcher who will certainly 'shake the world of scholars' and come up with something that never-well, you get the gist; he really thought that what were you doing here was some pathetic attempt at a lousy pity party to gain *good person* points from teachers and peers so he rudely brushed you off with a sneer and a cold 'piss off brat', and that was the end of it.

but oh how mistaken he was. here he was, a few weeks later, sitting with you in the ancient academia library, listening intently to your recent research about ruin guards. what? can't he listen to someone finally making sense in a place that supposedly was to be filled with the most knowledgeable people? and the fact that you were so...nice to him? was a very pleasant change in pace with all the dirty looks he got from everyone.

you never looked at him in disgust. you never sneered at him when he told you about the various experiment he'd perform with what limited resources he had. you never berated him or called him insane, a disgrace to the arts of magic and scholarship. you...you were something else, something that somehow managed to move the stone cold void that was his heart.

so he started to observe and learn. dottore knew that although you two were friendly enough as it is, direct approach could scare you off. he wasn't stupid, he knew that if he outright told you 'i'm obsessed with you and sometimes i feel like ripping my heart out and giving it to you on a silver plate if that was what you'd wish for'. he watched you almost every second of your day; studying, attending lectures, laughing with your silly little 'friends'.

speaking of which, he found that your classmates irritated him terribly, especially when some of them would stand so disgustingly close to you it made dottore's skin crawl with barely concealed fury. but could he afford making a rookie mistake and made your frinds dissapear one by one? no, no he unfortunately couldn't. he had to maintain status quo if he wanted to get even closer to you, his love. everything would turn out just fine.

well it was going just fine until he got kicked out of the academia for 'performing heretical acts of indescribable cruelty'. cruelty his fucking ass. in short, after a few months of observing you and getting even closer, he overheard some boy talking with his friend about wanting to confess to you and he saw red. sharp teeth clenched almost painfully, red eyes blazing with anger and hatred as his fingers tangled into his blue-green hair and tore at his hair.

'no no no this can't be happening' dottore heaved, breaths coming out in quick panicked puffs, he felt his chest contracting painfully. no no, he can't loose you like this, he just can't. he's well aware of his reputation, both in the academia and probably in this whole god-forsaken country. you'd surely reject him, leave him for some goody-two-shoes and live your happy ever after, far away from a abomination like him, dottore.

the only thing that tore the man out of his self-destructing thoughts was an idea. something so simple yet so lasting and effective that he felt plain stupid for not coming up with it earlier. he'd simply kill that little pest. yeah, kill the golden boy and the problem will solve itself, besides his research concerning the creation of the perfect enhanced human was almost complete, all he needed was a live subject, what could go wrong?

well, as it turned out-everything. anger and jealousy clouded his logical mind and made some rookie mistakes that ultimately led to teachers and guards find his secret makeshift laboratory and the gory mess of the student, or at least what remained of him.

so dottore made the only logical choice and ran as fast and as far as he could from the guards. his only regret was not to be able to see you one last time before his untimely departure. soon after he met the lord harbinger the jester who offered him basically unlimited research opportunities if he agrees to create an enhanced human that could withstand a god, and well, as they say-the rest was history.

yet he was completely unaware of the tears you shed of many nights to come, crying quietly for the man you came to love and lost so quickly.

it wasn't until many many years later that dottore overheard some fatui agents talk about a known magician and khaen'rhia researcher, (y/n) (l/n). the man would lie if he said he didn't stop dead in his track, his genius brain almost overheating from that one simple sentence.

'so you're alive and well, huh my dove. it looks like destiny is on our side after all. don't worry, i'll make your stay extra enjoyable, just you wait my sweet~'