#but also I realised this was in the wrong place by a part of the body from several metres away

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

i get that the blitz basically shapes your characterisation of tom, but the way jkr has dumbledore treat tom in canon makes it seem like... did she just not realise he was growing up during ww2? i just FEEL like she intended to make it seem like oh, he only wants to stay at hogwarts because he has no family at home, not because hes literally getting BOMBED 😭

The absence of the cultural impact of WWII in Harry Potter is weird and a constant mystery to me. It's not just Tom's backstory (being set in a period and from a place where this is very relevant) but the entire story for that matter.

Could be she just didn't want to include any of it/didn't want to get into it at all. Which is fair because this is a children's fantasy series that's deliberately set in the 1990's and not about the war (vs. Chronicles of Narnia where Lion, Witch, and the Wardrobe is deliberately set on the premise of "children are sent out of London to mysterious countryside house they've never been to and are exploring" or Bed knobs and Broomsticks which has pretty much the same premise of "children sent away to mysterious household where woman turns out to be a witch")

Except that she then goes on to make very strong parallels between the Death Eaters/Muggle-born Registration act and the Nazis, Dumbledore and Churchill, etc.

So... it feels like she kind of forgot the whole part where Britain was under severe threat of invasion (army across the channel, submarines in the channel) as well as the bombing campaigns particularly against London and how much of the city was destroyed and many people died.

I haven't read any interviews, but this woman is awful with dates and history to begin with so... I'm left wondering if JKR either didn't know. Somehow. Or forgot. Somehow. Or got her dates wrong. Somehow.

The treatment of Tom Riddle definitely seems to be she intended just "oh he's a poor orphan who feels Hogwarts is his home and wants to stay because of that" to parallel with Harry who also wants to stay over the summer and is told no and not, well, de bombs. (Added to this that Dumbledore/JKR never tells us where Tom is sent during the war. Dumbledore implies Tom was just chilling at Wool's the whole time.)

[nincompoopydoo]

CAUGHT IN A CROSSFIRE

ALL THINGS MUST END — ; PART 10 / 10

PAIRING: Theseus Scamander x Female!Reader WORD COUNT: 4.7k SUMMARY: You and Theseus awaken in a place that feels all too familiar, uncovering that the truth behind Miriam’s intentions lies within the act of revenge itself. This is a tale of betrayal, love, and hatred, but it's also the story of how you learn to love again. A/N: This is it! I’m so so nervous for yall to read this, but I hope you like it!! I want to take a moment to thank everyone who has been here either from day one or at any time you found this series– thanks for sticking around. WARNINGS: Swearing. Angst. Injuries. Mentions of hurt. Mentions of being burnt (it’s not detailed), Mentions of death. Theseus being a simp (HAHA). No beta as always we die like men. MASTERLIST ; MASTERPOST

Augustus Warden was a tyrant, characterised by his uncaring, manipulative, and violent nature towards anyone who dared to oppose him. He held a firm belief in eradicating magic, viewing it as inherently evil, and saw himself as a saviour destined to rid the world of it. 

Augustus Warden was also Miriam’s father. 

Well, he could hardly call himself a father. He was never one to her. And was never a husband to her mother. 

Augustus became obsessed with the perception of a saviour complex. It drove Miriam’s mother away, leaving her to deal with her father’s aggression and temper. Yet, Augustus's influence within the scourers' community grew, and The Gardenia Society landed itself in the thick of the chaos.

Again. Being hunted.

When your brother began showing signs of magic, your mother feared for his life. She had known about a distant ancestor with magical abilities for quite some time, though she hadn’t expected it to resurface in her only son.

Your brother was born at the wrong place and at the wrong time.

Your mother sought the help of Miriam, her closest friend. Almost a sister to her. She trusted her with her life. Nobody knew about your brother’s abilities besides your family and Miriam. It was a well-kept secret for the society's and your family's safety.

So, when word got out about your brother, your mother knew who had leaked the secret. Or so she thought.

The inhumane arrest of a boy. To be burned at the stake. Those were the words of the people. Just like their ancestors did. Hence, your mother decided to retaliate that betrayal of trust with Miriam for turning against her and her family. Miriam was then accused of being a witch and is the sole reason behind everything that happened to your brother.

She knew her father was insane but never knew he would ever go this far.

Her father. He showed no mercy.

“You dirty witch.”

Those were the words of the people, it rang against her ears.

Miriam remembers the fear etched in her throat. How her heart was beating out of her chest as she screamed, pleading to Augustus that this was all on pretence.

Yet, it seems that Augustus had been searching for a way to get rid of Miriam and finally found the opportunity.

A ball of flame in the darkness lit on a matchstick.

Augustus Warden stands tall and looming as he creeps from the shadows. He holds the little match with a grim twist to the edge of his lips. No sign of remorse. No sign of guilt.

“You did this to him … So long, witch.”

He tosses the matchstick.

Flames engulf Miriam.

Your family fled from the village with the help of The Gardenia Society and several Aurors, landing yourselves in the heart of London where the Warden would never find your brother. Since then, you had your memories erased.

But nothing ever stays permanent. And nothing ever truly dies.

–

Darkness.

Theseus struggles to grasp reality, feeling his presence as the memories from moments ago flood in.

He remembers … you. On the ground. Bleeding.

Immediately, he’s wide awake.

His surroundings are a blur, in the process of recollecting his thoughts when all that fills his head is you. Theseus then realises he’s seated; it’s cold, solid against his back and causes his slumped figure to lay straight on its surface.

A pungent smell suddenly fills his senses. Gasoline. He smells gasoline.

Merlin’s beard—

As he regains his sight, he recognises the room he is in. It’s circular, lined with seats to portray an amphitheatre. It’s a courtroom, though its structure tells a different story. Frescos held by its walls were heavily worn with time, abandoned, and unseen. This may be a ministry courtroom, but no longer operational.

The courtroom is filled with members of The Restoration Movement, all eyes on him. Among them, Morrigan and Mulberry stand sentinel, their scrutiny unyielding.

This is also when Theseus realises he is missing his wand.

Why on earth would Miriam bring him back to the ministry?

Before he could even begin to question it, Theseus spots you lying unconscious on the floor before him, in a pool of liquid. You’re drenched in gasoline too, he’s sure of it. It sends a sudden surge of shock to his heart, and there’s an immediate sense of urgency in how he moves to you, yet he stays unmoving in his seat.

Theseus glances at his arms and notices they have been bound with chains attached to the seat’s armrest. Eyes now wide, they return to your unmoving figure on the ground and all he thinks is to pull and pull and pull. Still, he can only watch you from a distance.

“Look at you. Helpless. Desperate. Seems like she changed you for the worse, Theseus.”

Miriam appears before him, you lay at her feet, tone laced with sarcasm as it booms through the courtroom. Strong and relinquished. Her expression wild, flashing with anger, hurt, and betrayal—hardened without an ounce of fragility and mercy in sight.

“Why are you doing this?”

There’s a tone of desperation tinged in his voice and it shakes him to his core. Theseus has been afraid plenty of times—during his training, the war. He has seen unspeakable things, but never has he been in the position of seeing someone he cares so tortured and bruised.

It clicks in his head. The ministry is the last place anyone would find them. Miriam is no fool.

Theseus heaves a silent prayer, hoping that despite the impossibilities of the day's events, both of you would make it out alive.

His gaze returns to you, catching a glimmer in your eye. You’re awake. Barely, but you are.  Your body remains frozen, yet your eyes convey a silent assurance, hidden from Miriam's sharp scrutiny. It's a subtle promise that you'll endure. That you’ll be fine.

Miriam’s smile widens as her expression morphs into a cynical, surprised look, mocking his question.

“I laid out all the clues, and you still haven't figured it out? Perhaps you weren't as intelligent as I thought.”

Despite the gravity of the moment, Theseus restrains the impulse to roll his eyes. Of course, he quickly discerned the laid-out clues: the open door, the photograph, and the brooch. Yet, certain questions remain unanswered—how did his brother become privy to Miriam's existence, and how did he predict Theseus's unravelling of the hidden messages in the letters?

Perhaps, Miriam doesn’t know why either.

“All I want is to destroy her. The Gardenia Society. Everything her mother ever loved.”

Miriam speaks in a manner of delusional confidence. A false sense of belief that her actions are deemed righteous. That whatever she intends to do is all for justice.

And it all ties back to your mother and the Gardenia Society.

Theseus watches the way her eye twitches, a flicker of sheer annoyance.

Something feels wrong. Or missing?

“Yet, you, dear Theseus. You always had a habit of sticking your nose where it doesn't belong, and now I have no choice but to take you with her,” Miriam declares, her tone laced with frustration.

Theseus merely scoffs. It sends Miriam boiling.

"You’re a hypocrite, Miriam. You revelled in meddling in everyone's lives, in my family's lives. Tell me, Miriam, did you truly believe we wanted you around?"

“Shut up –”

“We only did because we felt bad for you. After your husband passed –”

“I DON'T NEED YOUR FUCKING PITY.”

Her voice tears through the room, booming against its very walls. Miriam's eyes blaze with fury as she strides toward Theseus, and in an instant, her hand connects with his cheek in a resounding slap that leaves it stinging.

Unbeknownst to anyone but Theseus, you are wide awake, silently observing his calculated provocations aimed at pushing Miriam to her limits. With each jab, you understand his strategy, sensing the gears turning in his mind as he buys time. Knowing Theseus, he probably had a plan in motion before he came for you.

Through her distractions, you take it as an opportunity to survey your surroundings,  noting the dilapidated state of the room. Amidst the debris, a broken piece of wood catches your eye—it looks like a post that came apart from a railing. Its edges are sharpened after being torn apart. Something you could weaponise if you needed to.

Immediately you exchange a fleeting glance with Theseus. He’s looking right at you, though almost unnoticeable. You aren’t sure how you could tell, but there’s a silent understanding that develops between the of you.

Something is about to happen.

Just then, a sudden thud echoes from beyond the courtroom. It comes from the room’s entrance.

Miriam's attention snaps toward the sound, prompting you to feign unconsciousness once more. As she directs one of the men to investigate, the pieces fall into place.

Theseus just hopes the plan is set in motion.

He takes a deep breath before fixing Miriam with a steely gaze “You know, Miriam. Something doesn’t quite add up.”

Miriam's jaw clenches in response. “And what is that?” she retorts, her tone edged with defiance.

“The fact that I’m the one who’s in this chair, instead of her … This isn’t just about revenge on her mother isn’t it?”

He sees it. Only a flicker. Her facade slips ever so slightly. 

“I’m not stupid, Miriam.”

A beat. The air thickens.

Theseus watches intently as she takes his words in. Then, she steps back, creating distance from him once more. As if she’s almost afraid he’ll be able to detect any sort of falter or weakness in her.

Her once furious eyes are now almost solemn.

“Oleander was … ambitious, hard-headed, and strong-willed man.” Miriam begins, her gaze distant. “Despite all his faults, I loved him. He promised me an escape from my father's tyranny, a chance for us to be together at last.”

Her eyes flicker towards you, still prone on the ground, and a tumult of emotions washes over her face—a mixture of anger and hurt.

“Then, her mother accused me of betraying the very secret that shielded her brother," Miriam continues, her voice tinged with bitterness. "I became a pawn in their game, a scapegoat to be sacrificed. Oleander vanished, leaving me to face the consequences alone.”

So, it’s all for love. Or more for the betrayal she felt. 

"I discovered years later that it was he who leaked the secret. Turns out he was an Auror, undercover. He seduced the daughter of a Scourer to infiltrate my wretched father's inner circle. When everything went awry, he led the operation to save the members of The Gardenia Society," Miriam pauses, regaining composure as she continues, "But not me."

Then, Miriam turns to him once more.

"You remind me of him, Theseus. A little too much. All you seek is justice, yet you have no qualms about destroying lives in your path. You deem some unworthy and strike them down, all in the name of righteousness. Just like him. I will not stand by and let history repeat itself."

Fishing something from the pocket of her coat, Theseus discerns its shape in the dim light—a matchbox.

But, Theseus isn’t afraid. Not anymore.

It instead conjures a smile from him—all in rebellious smite.

“You won’t kill me.”

His tone is mocking. It elicits a frown from Miriam.

“What makes you think I won’t end you like the rest? I’ve killed muggles. I've killed her entire family without hesitation. I’m not afraid.”

“But you won’t kill me. Well, you can’t kill me,” Theseus counters with confidence as he clocks movement in the background.

“What?”

“All things must end, Miriam.”

Just then, a sudden flash of blue streaks across the courtroom and hits Morrigan in the shoulder. She collapses at impact.

Immediately, chaos erupts in the courtroom. Aurors flood the room, emerging from every corner of the amphitheatre as the surprise attack begins. Flashes of blinding blue, green and red bolt across the expanse as the attack began.

Theseus sees Travers in the crossfire, Mulberry collapsed on the ground at his feet. His expression is solemn, it’s a reflection after knowing the truth, but also a silent recognition and gratitude to Theseus that if he did not make it in time, this whole place would be in flames.  It was risky if anything were to happen to him, but thankfully, his Patronus found Travers and knew of his current location. It was the right call.

Through the impossibilities of today, a miracle did happen.

Miriam’s face splits into pure horror and she loses her concentration amidst the onslaught. Before she can react, you spring into action, wielding the broken piece of wood you had your eye on with fierce determination. Instantly, you strike Miriam on the head with a forceful blow that immediately sends her to the ground, rendering her unconscious.

Miraculously, the binds that held him to the chair disappear, finally able to get to you.

Well, that certainly works.

Breathless and weary, you stand on the edge of exhaustion, your body protesting with every step as you find yourself teetering on the brink of collapse. Despite your efforts to remain upright, your knees finally give out, sending you to the ground. With palms outstretched, you strain against the weight of fatigue, muscling all your strength to keep yourself from falling.

You then feel him. His grip finds the curve of your shoulder and your arm, supporting the weight of your own. It's warm, gentle, desperate yet assuring.

Theseus stares down at you with panic in his eyes. 

“Are you alright?” 

The words hang in the air as you grapple with the question. 

Are you really alright?

“... She killed my family.” you choke out, your voice strained with grief as you struggle to contain a sob. Immediately his hand finds your cheek, fingers against cold skin. They are soft. Grounding.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs softly.

You feel the gentle drag of his thumb just below your eye. It’s only then your blurred vision from the welling of tears, cheeks stained with the desolation and hurt that begins to settle within you. It hits you, gradually, but the pain is turning unbearable. It’s the physical pain searing through your back and the emotional hurt from everything that’s happened.

All you wanted was for this to end.

And now, when it is, where does it leave you?

Theseus’ careful touch remains on your cheek, his other hand firm against your shoulder. He can see the way your mind begins to spiral. 

He says your name. You finally bring your eyes to meet his.

Furrowed brows, charming eyes, cheeks tinged with a little colour of red, vaguely tousled hair.

A small smile plays on his lips.

“We should get out of here, don’t you think?”

–

2 MONTHS LATER

My dearest,

I hope this letter finds you in consolation and comfort, though I must admit that my own heart is heavy with the weight of the news I bear of the fate of your brother.

Contrary to our belief, your brother did not meet his end on the battlefield, as we were led to believe. Instead, he orchestrated his demise when he sought information on your mother and The Gardenia Society. Through our research and Miriam’s testimony, we gathered that your brother was intentionally recruited into the Restoration Movement and allied with Morrigan. He had every intention to seek Miriam and avenge your mother’s death. He was part of the operation until Miriam sensed his true plan and decided to eliminate him. No matter the situation, Miriam would’ve killed him in the end, but she intended to use him to get to you first. This was when her plan started to fall apart.

This is all we know thus far. I shall keep looking for more. Your brother was a brave soul. He saved your life.

With that said, I hope this brings you some peace. 

You must know you have been a constant in my mind these past few months. Though I understand your need to be alone at this time, nothing can ever describe the unthinkable things you have been through.

But perhaps, if you wish so, we could meet at St Mary’s Gardens in Woolwich. I hear it’s near your current home. I’ll be there on Sunday at 10 in the morning, should you choose to join me. It’ll be good to see your face once more.

Yours,Theseus

You’ve read this letter a hundred times since a certain familiar owl dropped it on your windowsill, just like the other times it had done so. Letters from Theseus were merely part of your days for the past two months, your desk in your bedroom filled with parchments of handwritten letters, signed by the very man that saved your life and sought to protect you.

Despite this, you never once gave a reply to any of his letters. Truth be told, you had been avoiding Theseus, a subconscious decision to try and distance yourself from everything related to magic. You never wanted to push him away, but you didn’t know how to separate yourself from the events with The Restoration Movement and Miriam without being in his presence. Theseus reminded you of all you’ve lost, though you seem to have forgotten the one thing you’ve gained.

You never saw him when Miriam was put on trial. When the ministry convinced you to step in as a witness, to give your testimony. In return, a deal was made—you get to keep your memories but sworn to secrecy. You somehow suspected that Theseus is the very reason the Ministry is so willing to work with you.

But it was overwhelming. Especially at the start. To talk about everything.

You pushed him away but It didn’t stop Theseus from writing to you. Update after update. He understands your grief better than you would expect. 

Theseus never gave up on you. And for a moment, you wonder why you ever gave up on him.

A gust of wind whips through the deck of the Woolwich Ferry, tugging at the letter from your fingers. For a moment, it seemed like it would slip from your grasp, lost to the currents of the River Thames. Your heart leaps as you tighten your grip, fingers curling around the paper as if it were the only thing anchoring you to reality.

You clung to every word like it was a lifeline. His words were the first thing you reached for in the morning, the reassuring touch that helped you muster the strength to face another day alone. 

Though certain words made your heart thrum a little faster than usual.

You must know you have been a constant in my mind these past few months.

You know how you feel about Theseus, but now, it’s clear as day.

Perhaps you don’t have to be alone anymore.

The ferry comes to a halt by Woolwich Pier, and your hands start getting clammy. From your position trailing behind a line of people as you step off the ferry, you can spot the gardens, a small gathering of trees amid the urban landscape.

However, you’re distracted, your mind lingering on the words that filled Theseus's letter.

It’ll be good to see your face once more.

The passing scenery catches you off guard and grounds you back to reality when you realise you’re already at the entrance of St Mary’s Gardens. Towering trees with arched branches and leaves rustling in the gentle breeze that shines golden against the morning sunlight. The trees cast shadows on the ground, dancing along the lush yet overgrown grass. 

And there, you see Theseus.

He seems anxious, movements betraying a nervous energy that mirrored your own. One moment, he’s seated; the next, he’s standing; and another, he’s pacing as if unable to settle into one spot for more than a moment.

You watch him for a moment, somehow unable to move. 

God, you miss him.

Then, as if he had sensed your presence, he’s turning around only to meet your gaze. In an instant, a wave of relief washes over his face, melting away the tension that had gripped him moments before. His expression softens at the mere sight of you. His expression splits into a smile that lights up his entire face.

Theseus says your name, and you feel the sudden warmth that floods your chest.

“Theseus.”

He carefully ambles to you, halting just about a foot away.

“You look …”

Tired, distraught, awful—

“Beautiful.”

Your heart picks up speed and pulls a bashful smile from you. You can’t even look at him without going red.

“Thank you. You look …”

Handsome, charming, the most beautiful man you’ve ever encountered.

“—well too. At least from the last time I saw you.”

The two of you were at St Mungo’s. Theseus had his arm around your waist, bearing the weight of your weakened frame as you stumbled, the sudden nausea overwhelming you after apparating to the hospital. In the reception area, you doubled over and vomited.

Just like old times.

Then, you were separated ever since.

Theseus mirrors your smile, similarly coy.

“I was beginning to think you were ignoring me for good.”

Your heart breaks a little at his words. “Look, Theseus. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. I was just …” you trail off, unable to finish your words. You feel guilty.

“No, it’s—you don’t have to apologise. You needed space, I understand that.” Theseus says with an edge of anxiety. As if one wrong word, you’ll go running. He purses his lips and tucks his hands into his pockets.

“I was just worried about you, that’s all.”

Your heart stutters. Theseus has always been so caring that it’s almost overwhelming.

He senses a shift in the air. He knows to be careful and patient. You need time. And he’s willing to wait as long as you want him to.

“If you would like, we could meet again. Same place, same time?”

“I would like that a lot, Theseus.”

–

Your Sundays were then days that truly felt brighter. Theseus works through the week at odd hours, yet ensures to keep his weekends free. Every Sunday, he’s there at St Mary’s Gardens, to give you an update on the investigation.

You find out how your mother passed in America at the hands of Miriam and how your brother may have been a seer, though unproven. It was the only explanation as to how he predicted you would even meet Theseus.

You buried your family. Three empty caskets.

Those times were the hardest. The realisation that secrets had been kept from you left you feeling helpless. Yet, through it all, Theseus stood by your side.

Weeks drift by, the case closes and Miriam and her followers are put behind bars. Still, Theseus ends with the same words:

“Same place, same time?”

So, Sundays turned into Fridays. Then, Wednesdays and Mondays—Theseus always found a way to weave you into his life, despite the hectic life of being an Auror. With his career on the rise from his hard work with your case, it’s hard for him to make time, but he makes it a point to see you, to hear your voice, to check up on you ever so often.

Theseus carries a certain air of enthusiasm when he’s with you. It’s carefully placed, disguised behind his calm demeanour, but you hope he knows how much you share that same enthusiasm whenever you see him. Whether it’s traversing through Hyde Park or sharing meals, these little times tend to be the highlights of your week. It revolves all around him.

Your love for Theseus doesn’t come careening in like an arrow pieced to your heart or a shock to the discernment of your feelings for him.

It’s gradual. And it grows larger and larger with every passing day. With every passing second.

And here you are, leaning against the railing that overlooks the River Thames, brushing shoulders with Theseus as you finish your ice cream. The river glimmers under the setting sun, and a gentle warm breeze sweeps through as the two of you watch Tower Bridge light up in comfortable silence.

“I saw Mr. Shacklebolt the other day,” you chirp suddenly, gaze trailing the ducks by the shore. The skies begin to turn dark as the crowds diminish, but you feel safe. Especially with Theseus.

Theseus turns to you with a curious furrow of his brows. “Who?”

You hum. It’s soft and contemplative and it causes a small smile to creep on your lips. “My old employer. He fired me months back. Before, you know, everything that happened –”

You catch your slipping and immediately halt your sentence, back to munching on your almost-gone ice cream cone.

Before I met you.

He recognises the implication and the sudden shift of your expression. It’s so vague, but he sees it. He always does.

Theseus takes a pause and decides to not address it.

“Really? So, did you clock him in the jaw?” There’s a hint of mischief in his tone and it causes you to laugh. Theseus’ eyes crinkle at the sight.

“I would have. He was right across the street. But, I decided not to. Not because he was with his children and I didn’t want them to see their father get knocked out by a lady –”

It’s Theseus’ turn to laugh. Your face splits into a grin as you continue. “I realised I wouldn’t be where I am today if he hadn’t fired me that day.”

A beat. You’re mustering up some sort of courage to make your care for Theseus known. To put it under the spotlight for everyone to see. From the corner of your eye, you can see him staring at you, taking you in, clinging to every word you say.

“And I wouldn’t have met you.” 

You huff, feeling incredibly restless as you turn to face him.

“Theseus, I don’t think I ever thanked you for everything you’ve done for me. You saved my life, and you never gave up on me. I thank you for that.”

He goes quiet in an almost bashful manner now tucked into the pockets of his slacks as he replies, “I try my best … or are you just saying that because I bought you ice cream?”

“Oh piss off!” you snap back at his tease with ardent humour, jabbing him in his shoulder with your finger.

You watch him squirm away with a casual laugh, beaming at you like you’re the sun. At this moment you decide you’re not waiting anymore. God, you don’t even know why you waited this long.

Theseus falls silent, his gaze still fixed on you with a curious beam that ignites a sudden surge of courage within you—courage you never knew you had.

In an instant, you’re surging to him, closing the distance between you where your lips meet his. It’s clumsy, graceless and so quick that it’s almost dreamlike in its brevity. You’re looking at him with wide eyes as if you couldn’t believe what you had just done.

You kissed him.

And Theseus looks like he’s about to explode.

"It seems that you just beat me to it," he breathes, his own lips tingling with the burning imprint of yours.

His words elicit an airy laugh from you, and as you mirror his grin, Theseus feels his heart skip a beat at the sight. Of all the times he’d known you, he had never seen you this light, this warm, this … happy.

He can’t explain it, but an impulse drives to reach for your hand, fingers tangled in your own as he brings his other to the curve of your cheek, warm to the touch. Vacant from tears, but lined with crinkles of laughter and smiles.

He feels the same way when with you.

At that moment, Theseus leans in to press his lips to yours once more. It’s different from before—more gentle, honest, and grounding.

It’s beautiful.

You’ve lived your life full of discrepancies and contradictions, but Theseus is the one thing you were so certain about. It’s a final profound sense of clarity.

Entwined with his fingers, there’s a sense of contentment that settles within you. As if the happiness you always sought has finally found its way into your life.

TAGLIST: (i really hope i got this right ;-;)

@crumpets-are-better-with-jam

@inlovewithfictionalcharacters27

@aterriblelangblr

@yournewmommy

@mariaelizabeth21-blog1

@eternallyvenus

@poolnoodlerescuer

@mads-weasley

@decrepit-bees-knees

@eternallyvenus

@lanespeaks

@127djarin

@iceman-kazansky

@probabydeadbynow

@lunalov3smoony

@rinisfruity14

@orchiidflwer

[markscherz]

Natural history museums hold innumerable misidentified specimens on their shelves. These specimens make their way into databases like GBIF, and muddy data that is used in global-scale analyses and other research drawing on such records. Careful verification of all specimens in a collection holding tens to hundreds of thousands of specimens would be a Herculean task that could take a dozen experts a decade. So, we often rely on spot checks.

Whilst searching our constrictor collection to see if we have any albino snakes (we don’t seem to), I came across this snake that had been identified as a Boa constrictor. It is in fact Malayopython reticulatus, a reticulated python. A quick new label and an update in our database, and I was able to move it over to the right shelf. Now it won’t muddy the waters further, and is able to be referred to by anyone interested in examining a retic.

How many more such cases are haunting our shelves of over 14 million objects? And that’s just the Natural History Museum of Denmark; there are billions of objects in similar collections globally. This is quite literally an astronomically huge problem.

[shopcat]

as much as i enjoy conceptually the whole Everyone finds out how zuko got his scar tropey thing bc i agree it's a strange little knowledge gap for them to have to be happily exploited for like, patting him on the head, but i also feel like it's just like. well OBVIOUSLY it's an excuse to throw some love at him which is good and i like it but when people use it as a way to like ... have people tell him it was Wrong and Bad well that's just stupid. the literal entire point of his confrontation with ozai during the eclipse is zuko TELLING his father that himself and then leaving to follow his own path. it's one of his biggest moments as a character and IS his most defining moment of deciding to take a stand against his father. like he knows it was bad he came to that conclusion himself he literally even said it was cruel!!! "how could you possibly justify duelling a child. it was cruel and it was wrong"!!!! he doesn't need people telling him Child Abuse Is Bad Zuko like. he knows. it's kind of part of his whole arc.

[muninnhuginn]

having a growing appreciation of character dynamics that involve pedestals breaking. where a character thinks another character their god, only to realise that they're human after all.

sometimes that leads to heartbreak, betrayal. but other times, they grow from it and build a stronger relationship as a result. a more mutual one.

[omgeto]

☆ R U GONNA STAY THE NIGHT? — fratboy!GETO SUGURU

summary:geto suguru, 'top dog' on campus, is used to ploughing through all the ditzy little freshmen without any concern for their feelings. but now his biggest challenge, is you, and it's not getting you in his bed, its getting you to stay in it.

wc: 4k (look guys I did it)

cw: afab!reader, all types of fucking, masturbation, you ride his dick, you ride his face, he gives you like two spanks, he's kinda whiny but then at the same time not. you both think you're the boss of this situationship and you are both wrong. MDNI slight angst if you squint, or maybe angst angst idk

an: first fic in 10 days, is this what you call a comeback? idk but I hope you enjoy whatever this is I TRIED OKAY I TRIED! Also thanks bae @kazushawty for betaing some and bullying me in our chats

sleeping with a frat bro wasn’t on your to do list during your freshman year, but there is something about geto suguru that you just can’t shake. you thought that you were one of many, after hearing all the rumours about him that spread throughout campus and that didn’t phase you as long as he could get you off, you didn’t care what else he did. but little did you know he is all about you and he is finally gonna let that be known tonight.

"excuse me," a whisper brushes against your ear, a deep, low hum that sends shivers down your spine. hands press lightly on your waist, shifting you ever so slightly. you glance over your shoulder, eyebrows furrowing when you realise there is more than enough room for the person to pass. it's geto suguru, and you shoot him a withering glare.

"what's the problem?" he asks, a low chuckle escaping his lips as he observes the hard look you're giving him. but instead of answering, you simply turn away, refusing to acknowledge his presence.

geto, undeterred by your cold response, takes a step closer. his presence is magnetic, and you can feel the heat of his body inches from yours. the music pulses around you, the crowd dancing and laughing, but all you can focus on is him.

“y’know me” he leans in, his breath warm against your ear, and his voice drops to a seductive murmur. "can’t resist the opportunity to get a little closer to you."

“oh fuck off geto,” you hiss, but your words had no real bite, you move your elbow to try and deter him but his stance remains fixed behind you.

“you’re a hard woman to please,” he sighs, with mock sadness, “but as frat president i can’t have one of my party guest having a bad time at one of my parties can i?”

“maybe you just aren’t trying hard enough,” you retort quickly, finally turning around to face him head on, a teasing smirk appearing on your face, “what would you know about pleasing me?”

“i think we both know what i know about pleasing you,” he offers his hand out, “c’mon let me show you a good time.” you hesitate, seeing the spark in his eyes and he puts his hand out further, urging you to take it. you close your eyes swiftly, taking a deep breath before letting him drag you into the crowd of people.

geto hand remains a reassuring hold as he drags you through the sea of intoxicated dancers. he pulls you into him, his dick already bricked up as brings it to your ass, your turn your head and raise your eyebrow, and he flashes a smile in return his hands sliding down to hold your hips as he starts to gyrate against you. you quickly match his pace, throwing back your ass, your hips swaying in time with geto and the music.

he places his hand at the small of your back, forcing you to bend slightly, as he widens his stance and forces his body into your further. your mouth parts, at the contact, and you smile at the feeling — geto suguru actually has rhythm. he’s quick to pull you up, peppering light kisses against your face as he grinds into you.

his arm hooks around your neck in a gentle but firm hold, as he bends down to your ear, his lips whispering words only meant for you, as he continues to rub his clothed dick in the crook of your ass. geto manoeuvres his hands up and down your body, his fingers teasingly toying with your tits, as he explores all you, right on the dance floor.

you could feel the heat between your legs grow, so you pull away from geto turning around to face him, his hands coming down to hold you close to him as if he was afraid you'd run away. “not bad huh?” he asks, knowing that you feel the exact same as he does, you both didn’t even notice all the eyes on you, as the crowd of partygoers just witnessed you almost fuck on the dance floor.

before you could even respond, you could feel the wind being knocked out of you as a broad chest collides right into you. geto keeps you upright, so you don’t fall on your ass and places you behind him as he steps to the person responsible for almost knocking you over. 

as the fog of the moment clears, you see the cause of the commotion—gojo satoru, geto's best friend, is in a blissful state of drunkenness, a wide grin plastered across his face.

"heeeeyy, suguru," gojo greets loudly, his bleary eyes darting between the two of you. "is this you, yeah?" his words slur slightly, but it's clear he's trying to figure out the situation. geto doesn't respond verbally, but the subtle smirk on his face and the bashful look on yours speak volumes. "you know what we could do to make this night greater," gojo announces with an exaggerated flourish.

geto sighs, on a usual day he’s all up for entertaining his friend but tonight all he wants to do is entertain you. “what is it satoru?”

“shots!” he cheers, looking around the room to be completely ignored, in too much of a drunken state to even notice, “c’mon sugu, you love shots, you can even bring this pretty little thing you’ve got with you.” he finishes, gojo’s eyes linger on you a little too long as he sizes you up, his bottom lip pulling into his teeth and all you could do is raise your eyebrows up at him, puzzled.

“bro,” geto commands, and gojo’s eyes snap to his friends as he raises his hand in mock surrender, “just take us to the fucking shots.” the subtle tension between the two guys didn't go unnoticed by you, but you brush it off, chalking it up to frat boys being frat boys. 

it was soon forgotten anyways, with you sprawled across a table of the frat house, drunken partygoers jeering at you as your shirt is half pulled up just stopping at your breast and gojo is cheering as he’s sprinkles salt on you and lines your stomach with shots.

“care to do the honours,” gojo taunts geto as he finishes pouring the final shot. geto sends a glare his way ignoring him as he makes his way over to you, giving you a long stripe of his tongue down your stomach, before quickly downing all the shots on your stomach, his eyes stuck on you. gojo offers him a lime, which he snatches straight out of his hands. gojo tuts, shaking his head, “someones touchy.” and just to add fuel to the fire, gojo has his own lick at your stomach, more slower and sensual then geto’s was, and he pours himself a shot, giving you a wink as he drinks it.

“what the fuck man?” geto interrogates, stepping to his friend, slightly wobbling as the shots he just backed in swift succession, hit him quickly.

“what’s wrong suguru?” gojo teases with a playful grin, he wasn’t dumb he knew who you were before he even saw you, geto talks about you all the time. so when gojo finally saw you with him, with geto still downplaying how he hard he actually fucks with you, he couldn’t help but fuck with his friend a bit, “you jealous?”

“don’t even start with me ‘toru,” geto warns, and you begin to sit up with an eye roll, you couldn’t deny you were a bit tipsy, but no amount of alcohol could make you bear to see this lame exchange of fray boy bravado. 

“oh whats your issue man,” gojo brushes him off, going to pour himself another drink, but geto is hot on his tails. “bro we literally always share the hot freshmen, what makes her any different.”

“because she just is,” geto snaps, in an attempt of a hush tone but you hear him loud and clear.

“i think i’m going to go,” you say out loud, and geto hears you pausing, slightly panicked. forgetting all about gojo his focus back onto you.

“no no, you don’t have to leave, we were having a good time right?” he stammers, rushing to persuade you stay. you couldn’t deny that you were having a good time, geto suguru is actually fun to be around, and the way he was staring at you, begging for you just stay with him, hits you right in your core. he pulls you close to him as he murmurs to you, “i know you felt what i felt when we were dancing, just give me a chance and like i said earlier i could really show you a good time. if you let me.”

geto just wanted to get you alone, he could see that the heavy noise of the club was clearly not your vibe, but he couldn’t let you leave just yet. he offers out his hand just like he did at the start of the party, but this time you didn’t hesitate to take it. letting him cart you off upstairs as you both ignore that wolf whistles coming from gojo, “you better get some suguru, go and get some for the both of us!”

when you get up into geto’s room, you try to disregard the slew of people strung out in different rooms across the house. but geto was confident, he had no reason not to be with you in his arms, wanting him just as badly as he wants you.

“c’mere,” he beckons you, as he sits down, patting down his thigh. you happily skip over to him, perching yourself right on his thigh, your arms hooking around his neck, your hands clasping together, locking him in. you face inches closer to his, your lips part ready to taste him but he halts you, smirking as he says “you're cute, y’know that right?”

“how so?” you ask, entertaining him with an eye roll.

“you always sit in class with me, trying to act all bothered by my presence,” he comments, “but turns out all it takes is for you to come to one of my parties, and for you to dance with me, to get you cumming in my lap… literally.”

“are we gonna fuck?” you say bluntly, catching him off guard, “or are you gonna continue to talk nonsense.” even though he wasn’t talking nonsense, he was right, tonight really did change your perspective on geto. but you weren’t dumb he was the president of the frat, and his best friend gojo’s comments earlier only further cemented the type of people frat guys are.

you press your lips against his before he has a chance to respond, your tongue darting in his mouth as he moulds into you. one of his hands works its way down your body whilst the other stays caressing your face. you groan against him, driving yourself against his thigh, your clothed cunt, already dripping just from the friction alone. 

“you getting off on my thigh yeah?” he teases between kisses, and you nod, desperately pushing yourself into him. he hikes you up further, his lips still moving in tandem with yours, and he spreads you into lap so you could properly straddle him. you both had quick movements, both of you are needy and wanting of the other. geto’s hands slide down your back and keep your ass in a firm hold as you begin to rock against him.

geto pulls away from you, his lips already plump from the way you’ve been gnawing at them. you pout at the removal but he laughs, “patience, princess.” but you ignore him your hands darting into his pants, ready to free his dick and land it, but he places his hand on your wrist, his eyebrows raising in warning, “what did i just say?”

“to take out your dick and sit on it right?” you shrug coyly, chuckling at your joke, and he smiles, but the warning in his eyes doesn’t leave.

“strip,” he commands, the single word having you folding like a chair, as you fling off your clothes leaving you in your underwear. he pulls you by the waistband of you panties, ripping them off you in one swift motion, biting his lip as he’s met with your wet pussy. “she’s so pretty,” he comments, flicking at your clit and as he slides his finger down your slit, just about to enter he pauses, putting his finger in his mouth instead of in you. he swirls it around his tongue, “sweet.”

“suguru,” you whine, at his teasing, “this isn’t funny.”

“play with yourself,” he says, disregarding whatever you were saying.

“what happened to you giving me a good time,” you argue.

“c’mon show me how bad you want it,” he persuades with a grin, leaning back, waiting for you to put on a show for him, “i’ll make it worth your while.”

despite everything, you could just never tell geto, no. it’s the way he looks at you, the way he talks to you, how he carries himself. with how he is just leaning back in his bed, his eyes low in anticipation as he waits for you to pleasure yourself for him, exciting you to do whatever he wants.

your hand works its way down to your pussy, your thumb landing on your clit rubbing against it as your finger part your sobbing cunt, letting geto see how wet you really are for him. “f-fuck,” you moan out, as you push your fingers inside of you, your eyes clenching shut at the contact.

“oi,” geto calls out to you, your eyes opening and landing on him, “keep your eyes on me. okay?” and you nod, as you quicken your pace, watching as geto palms his dick at your performance.

“this is boring,” you complain as you continue to rub at your pussy, trying your best to reach your climax on your own, “need your fingers, need your di—”

“keep going,” he orders, smirking, he could tell by the way your stance weakens and your legs tremble, that you were close. you were predictable and even though you were hungry for his dick, he knew you’d be able to cum with just your fingers and his eyes on you. call him cocky, but the influence he had over you was unmatched.

you roll your eyes at him, but you listen, continuing to finger yourself as he told you. your mouth parts, and you exhale feeling yourself about to cum, you push your digits in you harder, and your eyes stay fixated on geto and he shrugs his shoulders letting you do as you please—for once. you moan loudly as you cum all over your fingers, releasing hard as you spill out all down your thighs.

“see wasn’t so hard was it?” he taunts, pulling out his dick that has been hard from the moment he saw you at the party. he gives it a few strokes, pre cum oozing from the tip and you hungrily pounce on him, your pussy still dripping with your cum as you hover over his dick. you pause before sliding down on him, hissing at the feeling of you stretching you wide. “fuck man,” he groans out as he feels you clench over him, “your shit’s so tight.”

you bounce up and down on him, as he thrusts up into you, his hips hitting yours in a hard flurry of repeated connections. you press your hands flat on his chest, as his hands stay cupping your ass, keeping you upright as he drills into you.

his pace is unmatched, as you try and keep up, grinding your pussy down on him, desperate to have him stuff you up even more. “sugu ‘ts too much, f-fuck you’re relentless.”

“c-cant help it,” he stammers, still maintaining his merciless strokes, his dick twitching inside of you, “your pussy is just too good, or should i say my pussy,” he finishes with a wink. 

“y-your pussy?” you retort, laughing at his seriousness.

“yeah it’s mine right?” he interrogates, sending a slap to your ass to prompt further confirmation, “tell me it’s mine.” you don’t respond, a teasing smile spreading across your face, as you stare down at him, still riding his dick. but geto pauses, halting your movements and he slightly eases you up off of his dick, “what was that?” he prompts.

“it’s yours,” you give in quickly, not even bothering to entertain it any further with how needy you are to cum, “of course it's yours.” satisfied, geto charges his dick back into you with no warning, and you immediately go back to pushing your ass down on him, spreading your legs wider to straddle him more, taking him in deeper.

“t-that’s all i needed to hear,” he stutters, feeling himself about to cum, so he gives you a few sloppy thrusts before easing you off of him, cumming all over your stomach. you're quick to follow, your cum spraying his sheets, as you slump over him, dripping down on his body. “i made sure to not cum in you this time, i know how angsty you get over that shi.”

“oh how gentlemanly of you,” you deadpan, “all gives love a stomach covered in salt and semen.”

“well what would you prefer? your pussy filled with my cum,” he taunts, smirking as you still, “i know i would.” you didn’t answer pulling your sticky body away from his, as you come down off of your high.

“are you gonna stay the night?” geto asks with a grin it was like clockwork, everytime you finish fucking he’d always ask the same question, never getting bored when you mutter the same tired words.

“you know i don’t sleep in frat houses suguru.”

he shrugs casually, propping himself up on his elbows and admiring your naked figure. "you fuck in them though," he remarks, as if that justified everything, "so what's the difference?"

rolling your eyes, as you begin to do the laborious task of trying to locate your underwear—geto always had the habit of throwing them across the room. "the difference is," you pause, looking over your shoulder at him, "I can wake up tomorrow in my own bed, feeling just a little less gross for even fucking you in the first place."

a mock expression of hurt crosses his face as he crawls up behind you on the bed, pressing his face into the crook of your neck. "oh, how you wound me, princess," he coos, his breath sending shivers down your spine, "just stay."

“no, i shouldn’t” you argue, letting out an exhale as his lips attach to your collarbone, sucking against your skin, pulling and nipping at it with his teeth. 

you try to distract yourself by putting on your bra but geto is quick to fling it off you, his mouth trailing down to your tits peppering kisses all over your nipples, murmuring “stay” between each kiss. 

he takes your boob into his mouth, sucking on its flesh as his other hand toys with the other, massaging your nipples with just enough roughness to have you writhing in his palms. your back arches involuntarily, your tits pushing further into his touch, aching to feel him further, “see,” he smirks as he toys with you, “you do wanna stay.”

“i won’t, if you keep talking” you warn, gritting your teeth as he pinches your nipples, rolling them between his fingers. “now c’mere, convince me on why i should stay,” you lift his head off your tits with your fingers, eyeing him down as he stares back at you with pure lust in his eyes. you press a kiss to his lips before steering his head down towards your pussy.

“since when do you run things?” he doesn’t budge, his eyebrows slightly raise as he chuckles.

“you’re the one that wants me to stay, no?” you counter, your eyes locked with his.

“well what i want is for you to come sit on my face and my head can stay sandwiched between your thighs, how about that?” his grin widens as your mouth parts, speechless. he tugs you by the arm close to the head of the bed, you climb up his body your pussy still wet from he fucked you before, leaking out your juices all over his chest. “so hop on girl, a man’s gotta eat,” he mutters impatiently, smacking your ass to urge you onto his lips.

he takes you in hungrily, his mouth enclosing on your pussy with such greed that he is practically drowning in your scent. he laps at your cunt, his tongue giving such long, deep strokes which have your hands pressing against the walls, grinding down on his face. 

geto grips and claws at your ass, he grins, his nose burying into your pussy as your thighs clench tighter around his head. “s-sshit suguru,” your hands slap against the wall as you squeal out, trying to grasp at something to keep you afloat, as the way geto is working your pussy and how his fingers dig into your ass cheeks, has you buckling over about to topple off of him. 

he hums against your pussy, the vibrations jolting right through you, having you moan even louder. his tongue darts against your clit, swirling at it vigorously, nipping at it lightly with his teeth. 

“sugu i—” you pant, trying to ease off of him, the pleasure getting too much for you, but his hands stroke both your thighs keeping them in place. “bout to cum sugu.”

you could hear him mumble something, you didn’t care what, but the two taps he gave to your thigh let you know you could release all over him. you cry out as you cum, feeling yourself spill out all over his face. geto continues to eat you up, drinking in everything he can take, his chin getting covered by what he couldn’t swallow.

 “you are way too good at that.” you gasp as you slowly come up off his face, your breathing still laboured.

“only the best for you princess,” he jests with his eyes half open, a blissful smile on his lips as his tongue swipes at the remains of you left on his face.

“yeah me and all the other freshmen you fuck,” you mutter, to yourself but he heard you loud and clear.

“what was that?” he urges, wanting you to repeat your claims. before you started fucking geto, you knew he was and what he was about and technically you didn’t care, you only wanted him for his mouth game—which proved to be very useful. but when he tries to sweet talk you you couldn’t help but be reminded of what kind of guy he is.

“i think you heard me,” you shrug, “i’m saying it to insult you or anything, i'm just telling the truth. you like to fuck everbody and everything.”

“wait? is this why you won’t stay the night?” he says, sitting up, staring you down. 

“you must be only a pretty face, if you thought otherwise,” you laugh at his shock.

“no it’s just i think its crazy that you just won’t stay,” he complains, glaring at you as you put back on your clothes, “we could get to know each other properly.”

“like we agreed when we first started messing around,” you cringe, pitying the pouty look on his face. “let’s just… keep this casual”

“but that was ages ago,” he tries to reason, “some may say you’re just using me for sex.”

“suguru we use each other for sex,” you respond quickly, you step towards him pressing a peck on his pouty lips, with a smirk on your face as you see his lips chasing yours as you pull away, “well i'm gonna go now, i’m sure i’ll see you at one of your many lame parties you and your people always throw. it’s been fun as always” geto raises his eyebrows in acknowledgement, blowing out a hard breath, as he watches you strut out of his bedroom.

“she’ll stay the night eventually.” he murmurs to himself, maybe it’s wishful thinking, but a guy can dream.

AN: she’s only gone and done it. but yeah how was it guys 🥺? There’s only two lines in this whole fic that I actually thought “damn I cooked here” if you guess the lines you win a reward. ALSO IDK WHY I WAS DROPPING HINTS AT SOME GOJO ON SOME MR STEAL UR GIRL TYPE SHIT but I just went with it. But geto is sooo sweet HE JUST WANTS U TO STAY and you don’t even fuckinnn stay 😭😭 looool aren’t u mean. Technically I wrote the fic backwards it was meant to start with the “r u gonna stay the night” AND then gojo and geto would have a a conversation about you AND the it would end w the party and u tucking but I wanted to keep if one continuous flow and ANYWAYS this an is becoming a diary entry so LMK UR THOUGHTS PLEASE CAUSE THIS HAD ME STRETCHED

[chososlilprincess]

pt. 2 of Virgin Choso!! if you havent read the first part read it here and part 3

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

Virgin Choso who looks at your abandoned bag in the corner of his small living room. Standing in the little apartment he moved into recently, chewing on his lip anxiously. Should he text you? you’d realize it was gone eventually, and when you give him a call to tell him, he could pretend he hadn’t seen it. It’s not because he doesn’t want to talk to you, the opposite really, but hes scared. He’d probably be weird and act awkward if you two were ever alone, if you came to retrieve your bag from his home.

You and Yuji had been at his apartment earlier that day to help him move his furniture around. He’d heard the doorbell ring and when you had finally ascended to the top floor were he resided, Yuji had given him a brotherly hug, patting his back. And you,

You.

it’s the second time he sees you after he realised what he felt for you, and it’s getting increasingly hard to be around you. Especially when you keep putting on those adorable little outfits. He can’t focus, he can hardly breathe. Yuji, that idiot, knows that fact better than even Choso himself, seeing right through his brother. Which is why the boy had invited you today to help him. To torture Choso, to make him crack.

But Choso wasn’t weak. He could hold his composure. Even when Yuji walks past him and whispers, trying to hold his laugh, “maybe cut back on the staring a little today, she might actually notice this time,”

And now he’s here, all his furniture in the right places, but your bag in the wrong. You’d went to the gym he remembers, which is why you had it with you.

When his phone rings a minute later, his heart starts beating faster, already? he calms down a little when he sees it’s Yuji who’s calling, but his ease is cut short when he answers.

“hello?”

“hi Choso, it’s me,” its you. He can hear people talking and laughing in the background, probably you and Yuji’s new friends from your Jujutsu College. “my phone went out so i borrowed Yuji’s to call you,” you say sweetly, and before you can continue, a voice way louder than yours comes through the line, “she forgot her bag on purpose!!” Yuji shouts from next to you, before someone in the group can shut him up,

“not true…” you say awkwardly and laugh “but uh, is it okay if i come and get it tomorrow after my shift? it’s gonna be a little late though, sorry for the trouble,” he can feel that tugging in his heart, he’s excited to see you again, even if it’s only because of your forgetfulness. “it uh…it is no trouble,” he says quickly,

“thank you Choso…ill see you tomorrow,” and with that you hang up, and Choso is left with the silence of his apartment and the bustle outside of tokyo city.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

He’s sitting on the couch with your bag propped up next to him, did you really leave your bag here on purpose? why would you have done that? did you want to see him too? he sighs, wishful thinking.

He stands up from the couch and the movement makes your unzipped bag fall to the floor with a thud.

He looks to the floor, bends down to put the bag back when-

oh. fuck.

Laying on the ground is your used gym clothes, a big hoodie, some shorts, a top and also…

a pair of your used panties.

he freezes, his dick jumping at the sight alone. Theyre baby blue, with a little white bow on the waistband. fuck. no. don’t.

he picks them up.

He’s only just learned about sex, about relationships and about…pleasuring himself. And he’s already a massive pervert.

what would you think of him if you knew? if you could see him right now? desperately jerking himself off on the couch, whines and groans spilling from his lips, drool sliding down his mouth. your perfect little panties wrapped around his hard cock.

He watches as his pre cum makes a mess in them. he wants to make a mess with you. He wants to see you wearing nothing else than those same panties around him,

he takes them away from his dick and brings them to his nose. And when he breathes in the scent of your pussy, He cums so hard his mind turns blank.

And it hits him when he comes down, that hes disgusting. And your panties are ruined.

how can you make him feel like this. Without any cursed energy. without beating him into the ground. youre just existing, And that fact alone makes him feel so…weak? why does he feel weak?

He decides then that he needs to tell you, Its been building up in his chest for months. He needs to tell you that hes in love with you and that he would do anything for you.

he needs to tell you he wants to bury his face in your little cunt.

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

thx to everyone whos been leaving notes<33 part 3 coming!!

[yuanology]

m!reader fingering afab!geto while being 100% aware gojo's watching through the crack of the door so he decides to show gojo how sensitive his friend is and geto ends up squirting?? (lowkey embarrassed i wrote this, but yknow ignore it if you want😅)

what the Fuck .

gojo satoru was not a virtuous man. far from it, in fact. as a self-made god, satoru existed on a plane far above morality and whatever other human concept was created to define right and wrong. within infinity and the insurmountable power residing in it, there was only the man who wielded it and the humanity confining it.

even so, satoru still knew deep within his heart—the trembling, still beating thing residing underneath the constricts of his ribs—that he should not be doing this; that he should not be staying.

but satoru was not a virtuous man, and so he stayed.

because there, past the thin crack of the door, was his best friend—the same one he had known from childhood, the same one who had walked with him through the ins and outs of darkness—with his clothes stripped clean, thrown messily around the room, both of his feet planted flat on the bed, and his back arching off the mattress in a pleasured arch. between his legs, slick and heavy with evidence of his own debauchery, stood you—fully dressed, only the first two buttons of your collar open.

satoru knew of you. it was impossible not to. you were older than the both of them. when they were freshly entering their first year, you'd already matured where you existed in your third one. satoru himself had barely spared you a glance but in retrospect, he did remember suguru mentioning once or twice that he was training with you on the side.

fuck, satoru thought, dazed. if he had known this was what 'training' involved, he would have listened a bit better on what suguru had to say about you.

because you were holding his thighs apart, well-practiced fingers relentlessly pushing past suguru's slick folds, producing the loudest squelching noises. satoru couldn't see very well from this angle, but he could hear the sounds his best friend was making; fucked up and high-pitched, whiney in a way satoru had never heard him speak before.

suguru cried out your name, breathless and panting. "please," he was begging you, sounding close to tears. "please, no more."

you leaned in, mouth brushing over suguru's chest as you whispered your response. satoru couldn't hear you, even as his ears strained to catch a wisp of your words. but whatever it was, it must not be good because suguru is letting out a loud whine, one the turned into the strangled beginnings of a scream when satoru noticed that you had begun to pick up pace.

oh my god.

just as satoru took the first hesitant half step backwards, swaying in place, he hears your drawled out voice—cutting, brave, unyielding.

"now, where do you think you're going, satoru?"

satoru stiffened, and he realised that he wasn't the only one. suguru did, too—his body locking up as a new flush crawled across his skin. satoru had half the mind to apologise to his best friend in his head, a chant of i'msorryi'msorryi'msorryi'msuchashittyfriend looping in his head as if it could forgive him for not only being a pervert, but also for intruding on his best friend's secret.

satoru cleared his throat. he wanted to make an excuse, to apologise, but all that could tumble out of his throat was a hoarse, "um."

suguru let out a high whine at the sound of satoru's voice, as if he was spurred on by his audience. his back arched, his mouth parting as a deep sound escaped him. satoru watched, mesmerised, as the muscle on suguru's body rippled at the motion, your hands never once faltering in its ministrations.

"come here for a minute, satoru." your voice was calm, collected and almost clinical. as if you didn't practically have your entire fist buried in between suguru's slick folds, your thumb nudging at where satoru guessed must be suguru's clit if suguru's high pitched whimpers were anything to go by. "i need your opinion on something."

satoru swallowed thickly as he was drawn into the room, his motions dumb as if he was a mere puppet on your string. as he moved closer, he realised that there was more to the scene that he couldn't earlier see from his post by the door.

suguru's cunt was fucking drooling, slick dripping all over the place as his hips canted in the air as if to escape and to move closer to the pleasure. his hole would no doubt he gaping if you pulled your hand out, hungry for more. your thumb covered his clit wholly, rubbing at it mercilessly.

satoru felt himself twitching in his pants, throat working around the words stuck in his lungs.

"what do you need?" satoru asked, his voice wrecked. he would be embarrassed by it if it wasn't promptly drowned out by the sound of suguru's choked out noises.

without thinking, satoru moved a hand to rest on suguru's thigh, at the sight of his best friend in distress. he didn't realise what a great mistake it was until suguru did a full body shudder, a ragged gasp leaving him. satoru couldn't fucking breathe.

clearly, you didn't share the same sentiment because you were speaking again. "suguru wants me to stop, but i personally think he can come one more time," you said casually, as if this was a common conversation to have with just about anyone.

suguru let out a weak whimper, pathetic and desperate in a way satoru never knew him to be, at the sound of your words. you must have been trying to convince him about this for a while then.

stiffly, satoru nodded, not quite knowing how to react. "okay," he said dumbly.

he wasn't looking at you, too entranced by the sight of suguru with his legs spread wide open and his messy cunt being on full display, but he could hear the smile in your voice when you said, "well, what do you think? can he come one more time?"

satoru opened his mouth, a half-baked answer on the tip of his tongue, when he was interrupted by the sound of suguru's babbling.

"no. no, please. no more." there were tears in his eyes, dripping down his cheeks prettily, satoru noticed. suguru looked a mess, his hair a halo around his head and his hips lifted in the air as if he was nothing more than a cheap whore. satoru thought he was beautiful. "please. i can't. don't make me. please, please, please, pl—"

his words promptly turned into a loud scream, half-pained and half-pleasured, and satoru's head whipped around to look at the source of it. he swallowed thickly when his eyes dropped from suguru's face to his engorged clit, where your thumb was no longer rubbing at but rather, your earlier free hand was now gently tugging at the hood over it.

holy shit, satoru thought, his head spinning. because he just watched you pinch suguru's clit. you pinched suguru's clit. judging from the nonchalance of your gesture and the way suguru didn't try to fight back, instead canting his hips higher, this was something that you did often.

satoru was going to die. holy shit.

"shh, suguru," you reprimanded, silencing suguru's desperate sobs with a gentle pat to his thigh. suguru sniffled, but he stopped letting out those depressing sounds. "it's not you i'm talking to."

suddenly reminded that he owed you the debt of an answer, he blurted out an answer before he could think twice. "he can," satoru replied. "he's an overachiever, the dumbass. he can come another time."

suguru let out a loud sob at his answer, one that sounded a lot like betrayal.

satoru couldn't properly apologise to him, though, because your lips were curling into a sharp grin, looking like a cat who caught the canary, and satoru couldn't help but think that maybe, he was just in as big of a trouble as suguru was. maybe, with his answer, satoru had condemned not just his best friend, but himself as well.

you pulled your hand out of suguru with a lewd squelch, one that made satoru flush all the way to the roots of his hair—and oh god, he hadn't even realised he could burn up even more—and the way that suguru whimpered, both devastated and relieved by the loss, wasn't helping.

you took a step backwards, letting suguru's body drop onto the mattress. you gestured towards the now empty space between suguru's thighs. "on your knees, satoru. hands behind your back."

satoru couldn't do anything but comply. he dropped to his knees, his hands behind his back and his eyes now at level with suguru's fucked out cunt. holy shit. suguru was twitching, his pretty clit engorged and swollen from the earlier abuse and fucking pierced apparently. satoru exhaled sharply at the sight, his breath fanning across suguru's folds, and earning himself a short, aborted whine from suguru. oh my god.

satoru almost flinched when he felt your hand card through his hair, tangling your fingers into the strands as he guided your face closer to suguru's gushing pussy. "go on," you ordered him, your voice gentled by the sound of melodious laughter. "eat him."

thank you for the meal, satoru thought dazedly as his face was guided closer and closer, until he was buried in suguru's cunt and lapping up the taste of his best friend.

the response was immediate—suguru's thighs started quivering on either side of satoru's head, moving to rest on satoru's shoulders and pulling him in as if to suffocate him. satoru didn't mind, taking that as an unspoken order to start eating his best friend out like his life depended on it.

he didn't bother with hesitating or testing the waters. he licked a broad strip up the length of suguru's cunt, dipping in between his folds to gather the slick there at the centre of his tongue. satoru moaned at the taste, and he was immediately greeted by the feeling of suguru's walls squeezing around him as suguru met him with his own weak whimper.

"suguru's already sensitive." that was you again. there was notable amusement in your voice. "want me to help you make him come faster?"

satoru should say no. he wanted to stay buried in suguru's cunt forever, eating his best friend out until he was shaking all over the place. he wanted to make his best friend feel so good that he stopped being satoru's suguru and instead started becoming your suguru with satoru instead.

but he could hear his best friend's pleas even above the sound of his pounding heartbeat, the sound of suguru's suffering, and he couldn't let this keep going for much longer.

he nodded, the bridge of his nose bumping over suguru's clit in the process. suguru's thighs squeezed around him, a whimper escaping, and satoru quickly drew circles on suguru's hips in apology.

you, on the other hand, didn't seem to have the same courtesy as you told him, "suck on his clit, then open your jaw wide."

satoru obeyed even though he didn't really understand why you were telling him to do that, knowing that you likely understood suguru's body more than he did in this matter.

he pursed his lips around suguru's clit, sucking on it firmly, before he let his jaw drop open.

oh.

oh, holy fuck.

because suguru was squirting directly into his mouth, making a mess out of the lower side of his face, and satoru could only kneel there, his mouth wide open as he swallowed all of his best friend's slick juices. his head was light, and he couldn't breathe—both from the suffocation and the fact that geto suguru, his best friend, his one and only, just fucking squirted into his mouth.

when suguru finally let him free, thighs unlocking from around his head and limply falling onto the edge of the bed. satoru leaned back, unable to process what just happened, when he heard you speak again.

"don't forget your manners, suguru."

it was quiet for a moment, then he heard the small, almost shy, voice of his best friend. "thank you, satoru," suguru mumbled.

"you're welcome," satoru replied, his voice sounding fucked over. he couldn't correct himself just yet, though, his head still reeling.

he was still on his knees as he watched you rearrange suguru on the bed, peppering soft kisses onto his face and his collarbone and his chest in stark contrast to the way you had treated him earlier. there was the lull of soft conversation passing between the both of you, one that satoru didn't try being a voyeur of.

he was content with just kneeling there, his head filled with cotton and static. he didn't even bother with touching himself, still too entranced by the feeling of this all happening.

finally, your footsteps drew close to him. he tilted his head as he watched you approach him. you cupped his chin, tilting his head back to meet your gaze.

"messy," you noted, but the corners of your mouth were quirked into a smile. "but suguru's always been messy." satoru didn't have any response to that, so he simply nodded stupidly. somehow, that must be the right answer because you laughed.

you took a step back, taking a seat onto the edge of the bed. satoru's eyes tracked your movement almost curiously. he frowned when you patted your lap, as if you were expecting something from him.

"over my knee," you said. "i think fifteen should do. usually, i'd give more, but i'm assuming you're new to the scene, hm? don't forget to count."

satoru blinked dumbly. he stayed rooted on his knees. "what?" he asked hoarsely.

you raised a brow at him. "oh, satoru," you said, your voice placating. "did you really think that i was going to let you go unpunished just like that? over my knee. fifteen spanks and i want you to count."

when he still did nothing, your gaze darkened and your voice grew firm. "now, satoru."

oh, satoru thought smartly.

swallowing thickly, he moved to comply.

[bluetimeombre]

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ And I wouldn't marry me, either.

You were Azriel's mate, but it took losing you three times for him to realise.

[this is long. i'm talking 5k words long so i've split it into two parts. anyway, azriel is the best bat boy and no i won't hear anyone out. i'm so excited to write for him and hope you enjoy. it's very angsty but that's what i love. i hope i can write more for him and maybe other characters if you like. it's been a while since i've actually read the series so if any information is wrong, do let me know. also it was my first time using the term y/n and yes, i cringed NOT PROOF READ... enjoy]

warnings: references to sexual assault and references to suicide. nothing explicit but please don't read if this is sensitive to you.

Part 2 soon…

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

The first, was the worst...

You were Rhys's half sister, the bastard daughter of his father. But when your mother had died giving birth to you, Rhysand's mother took you in and raised you with your brother and sister. You were so little and adorable that your sister loved you at once. Rhys did to, at some point of your life, you were sure he actually cared about you.

But when his mother and sister had died, his eyes shifted, he started to look at you with contempt. After all, you were only his half-sister. The worst half. He only kept you around because it's what his mother would have wanted.

And because there was no way Cassian and Azriel would ever let anything happen to you.

Besides, Rhysand knew when to use you.

Although Azriel was his spymaster, you were pretty good at staying swift-footed too. And you were frankly, very terrifying when you wanted to be.

You tread with power through the war camps, all of them looking at you as you went. All of their gazes wrecked with a predatory gaze. They either wanted to have their way with you, or kill you. Or both.

Rhys had said you could handle it, it was only supposed to be a check in. Cassian hadn't liked it, neither had Mor but it was Azriel who had almost- and for the first time- disobeyed his high lord to accompany you. But no, your brother wanted you to do this alone, so alone you would.

Just to show him you could.

'I can come with you,' Azriel had said, standing in your room as you tied your boots up. 'I won't even have to be seen.' At that, his shadows wrapped up your calf.

You smiled at them, as if they were his own pet. 'I'll manage just fine. Besides, i'm sure that's what Rhys wants, me needing a man.'

It had done nothing to calm your friend. The worry was still stuck between his brows, marring his handsome features. You'd held his cheeks, your wings hiding the two of you. His large ones (enough to swallow the both of you) over-lapped yours.

It was the last time you'd feel your wings.

The war camp wasn't as easy as you'd hoped. It was terror and horror in a place. You'd been to the court of nightmares, you'd gone to the slaughter of the spring court after they killed your family. But this, this was hell of another kind.

You had no idea how many days you'd been locked up, wrists bound in chains and hanging from the cell roof above you. Blood rolled down your arms from the force you'd tried to use to get them out. Your eye was swollen shut and your body trembled in pain.

All because they wanted to know your brothers secrets, and you wouldn't budge.

Your check was only supposed to be a day, but you were sure it had been longer. Days of endless pain and torture. Your uniform hung in rags of stripped material, your hair matted with blood and hiding your face.

You'd used the last of your energy to keep your walls up. You weren't anyone's mate, you didn't have anyone on the other end trying to feel what you felt. But should Rhys come looking (though you doubted it) you didn't want him to feel it. You didn't want anyone in your mind.

The gates opened with a sickening clash.

One of the Illyrian's knelt in front of you, his wings hiding those coming in behind you. 'Listen sweetheart. I don't want to make this any harder than it's about to get. All you have to do is tell us your brother's hide outs.'

You grit your teeth, staring down at the ground.

'So loyal, to a man who doesn't care if you live or die.'

Suddenly, your wings twitched as hands grasped them. Brute hands, the sort you wouldn't want touching any part of you.

Fear spiked in you, horror twisting your gut. 'What are you doing?'

'I told you I didn't want to get things messier, darling.'

You whipped your head from side to side, trying and failing to get a look at the assailants behind you. Your wings were being held apart, no matter how hard you tried to bat them away. You knew the sort of people they were, and what they did to girls like you.

That's when the begging started. 'No, no please. Anything. I'll do anything! Beat me, kill me, rape me, not my wings, please!'

'Anything?' the bastard asked, tongue poking out from his lips. 'Then tell me where your lord's hideouts are?'

You should betray him, you thought. He would never lose his wings for you. Perhaps it was stubbornness that kept you from, or maybe you were clinging to the last bit of love you want from him.

The bastard scoffed, 'anything, she says. Your brother has his own bitch wrapped around his finger.'

That's when they started hacking at your wings.

Your screams tore through your throat, blood spitting and dripping down your chin. Tears soon joined when they hacked away at the bone, the membrane, the flesh of it all. The three of them worked through your screams and your tears and your pain, tearing and cutting at it like it was nothing more than paper.

Not your whole life.

Let them hear you. You hoped your brother heard you, you hoped all and every court heard the pain.

Eventually, even you couldn't keep screaming. The only sound was the hacking away at your wings and the drops of blood.

'Now look at these beauties. I've got a perfect spot on my wall for these.'

They left you after that. There wasn't much more damage they could do. It already felt like they'd destroyed your life. You had never really thought about your wings, they were just part of you, as much as your wit or hair was. But they'd took it and now, you felt empty. Never would you fly with Azriel again, or use your wings to smack Cassian over the head.

Rhys, your dear brother, had took that from you.

The days blended in together after that. You were pooled in your own tears and blood, vomiting up anything they forced down your throat. No, they'd made it very clear they didn't want you dead. They just took pride in making it feel like you were.

At some point, you'd stopped reacting to the gate opening. You let them do whatever they wanted with you. Your wrists were still chained, arms still hanging up, your clothes hanging on your thin body in strips of dirt.

'No...' you heard a mumble. 'What have they done to you?'

Suddenly, the chains gave way and you lurched forward, with no strength to catch you. Luckily, you didn't have to, as strong and warm arms pulled you into his chest.

'Hey, wake up, look at me, dammit.'

Azriel.

You'd know the voice in the darkest days, in the pit of your worst nightmare you'd know.

You try to speak but your head's heavy, your lips are stone and your arms can't lift to hold onto him. You're exhausted, you're dying. The only thing you could do use all your strength to try to open your eyes.

'Please, please, look at me. You have to look at me,'

You were trying, you wanted to tell hm, snap at him, but you couldn't.

You felt Azriel shake, or maybe you were. Then, there was wet drops landing on your cheeks- you flinched.

'I'm sorry, i'm sorry. Rhys! Rhys! hurry up, please!' he was screaming. You'd never heard him scream before.

You heard the rush of feet at the cell doors, you knew it was your brother. You knew it from the presence of him, from the shuffling of feet and chocked sob. Your brother didn't cry, least of all for you.

'Her wings, oh mother, her wings,' said Azriel, his voice barley above that of a whisper.

Your wings. You didn't need reminding. They were gone, long and far gone. You were without a part of you, the very part of your soul that loved to be free. Never would you watch the stars up close or fly over everyone. Never race Cassian or make jokes with Az.

No, this would destroy you.

'y/n,' your half-brother called. 'No, y/n. Can you hear me?'

Your lips parted, mumbling. 'Hurts.'

Azriel's grip on you tightened. 'I know, we're gonna get you out of here, just hold on for me.'

You wanted to tell him you would hold on, you'd always need to hold on to him. That, no matter what he asks, you'd do it. To kill, to live, to breathe, to die.

And that's when it clicked. Amongst all the pain and the doubt. In your blood soaked clothes. In the fear you wouldn't make it, there was a tug. Weak and one-sided, but there. You knew you'd be safe with Azriel, knew you would always be with him.

Mate.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

The pain subsided to a dull ache, there and beating but not excruciating. You were warm and covered in a soft material. Nothing like the cell you'd been kept in. Your fingertips sunk into something soft- a bed. Your bed. It was familiar in its lavender scent to you and the silk wrapped around you gave you some semblance of warmth.

Your wings.

Even coming to consciousness was difficult. You were exhausted but light, without the weight of wings holding you down. You'd never realised how much you needed to feel that weight, to feel pulled down in order to be free.

Gone, all gone.

Your hand twitches around something cold, a shadow holding your hand, creeping up your side.

'You're awake, thank the couldron.'

It wasn't Azriel, master of the shadows. It wasn't your mate. Mate. The word replayed like a terrible song in your mind.

How dare the mother do this to Az. How dare he- nothing but loyal and kind- get stuck with a person made in darkness, who bled shadows, who's heart was so full of hate there wasn't room for love. They'd cursed Az, with you.

But luckily it wasn't him, it was Rhysand.

'It really happened,' you whispered, voice hurting from the screams.

He sighed. 'I'm sorry, i'm so sorry. We-we thought you weren't going to make it, you'd lost so much blood.'

In spite of the pain in your shoulders, you made a shift, turning from him as he ranted on about your condition.

'y/n... sister, please,' he said. He'd never called you sister before. He'd always been content to treat you just like you worked for him.

'Leave me alone.' you couldn't bare to look at him, couldn't bare to face him. The shadows at your hand grew heavier, as if more were piling on. You stretched your fingers away from them, trying to get them off you.

'Are you in any pain?' asked Rhys.

'Get out,' you mumbled.

The end of your bed dipped where Rhys settled, hand splayed on the covers, begging for your hand. 'y/n.'

'Get out!' you snapped, body tense and straining. You felt your wounds open up, blood wetting the bandage around you. But you didn't care. You'd happily bleed if you couldn't fly. A part of you, sick part of you wanted to be left there. It would be better than false sympathy.

Be better than your mate being disgusted.

'Get out!' you yelled again, voice tearing through an aching throat.

'I just want to help you! please, let me help you!' said Rhys, standing from your bed and walking around, trying to face you.

'I don't want your help!' you screamed. You reached for the closest thing you could, a jug of water and chucked it toward him. You aim was terrible, marred with pain and exhaustion. 'Get out!'

Though hesitant, Rhysand slowly started walking back to your door. He did it all looking at you, his hands out to show he wasn't gonna hurt you, but you didn't care. You went for the glasses next and chucked them but they landed against the door which he disappeared through.

Before it slid close you caught sight of Cassian , Mor and Azriel. All crowded, all waiting to see you.

You'd be happy if you never let them see you again.

'Can we see her?' you hear Mor ask.

'Give her time,' said Rhys.

The shadows at your hand grew heavier, darker, tighter.

'Go away!' you yelled at them. To anyone else, you probably looked crazy, screaming to darkness. But the shadows understood. They departed, slithering away and under the crack of your door where you could see the shadows of feet.

Tumbling from bed, you stumbled over and locked the door, leaning on it to and catching your breath. Your nightgown was starting to get sticky with blood all over again. When you closed your eyes, you pictured the cell, the rough hands holding you down, the chain keeping you up.

And the pain, it all washed over you. The hacking at your back, the sting of a slap. It hit you like a tone of bricks as you slid to the floor.

There was a knock, rattling the door.

'y/n,' Cassian. 'Please let us in.'

Us. You felt him on the other side. Your mate, his presence lingering. His shadows under the door, wanting to come in but keeping their distance.

He didn't know. It hadn't snapped for him, you could tell. It was one tug on your end, a chord in your heart. At least he couldn't feel what you did. At least you could shoulder it alone.

'Please.' his voice was almost your un-doing. He sounded so sad, so desperate. It hurt you just to think you were hurting him.

Tears streamed down your face as your curled your fingers into a tight fist. You assumed Mor had left with Rhys, leaving you there with the males.

Cass was always like a brother to you. Granted- a brother you had slept with once or twice- but he was your best friend. You'd always been close to him. But you'd always been good, a happy person.

You couldn't be that for them now, perhaps ever again.

It lasted like that for hours. Cassian and Az begging to come in, you curling into a ball with tears down your cheeks and blood down your back.

Eventually, they gave up. You couldn't hear them anymore and the shadows of their boots had disappeared.

Except Azriel's shadows that still lingered under your door. Maybe he'd ordered them to be there while they left you.

Eventually, you managed to find your footing on shaking legs. Your room was large, one of the largest. It was just as much a mess as it was when you'd left for you mission, clothes thrown over the place, books propped open on the pages you'd left them on. Everything was the same but could never be again.

It took you longer than you'd care to admit to get to your windows and throw the curtains close. Candles light at your request, the house looking after you as it had since you were a child.

You caught sight of yourself in the full length mirror. It seemed smaller, everything in the room felt too large and you too small, as if you were being swallowed by the expanse of it.

Your frame was small in the mirror, your hair disarrayed. Your eyes were red and shutting of their own accord from the tears that had drained you. The starving in the cells had made you look weak, made you feel weak.

And your back. There was no more looming black figures there, no more fluttering. There was just nothing. In spite of the ache as you lifted your arm, you felt around your back, feeling the hitch there, the lump from where they'd been torn from you.

You cry. You sob. You scream.

The scars were long and the nightdress was sticking to you by the blood you'd shed. All you could do, was hold yourself up as your body wracked with tears.

A breeze came from your windows, shadows tugging at the curtains.

You felt him before you saw him. You wanted to tell him to leave you but you couldn't talk without chocking. Without feeling like you couldn't breath.

Azriel had you in your arms before your knees could hit the ground. He fell with you, softening your body on the floor. His arms held you into his chest, his legs caging you into his body. His head rested on yours as he held you. He didn't try to talk, he didn't try to help. It was just him, you and his shadows.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Azriel remembered dozing off with you, his head on yours. His arms holding you into him, as if it was up to him to keep the sadness away and take it for you.

Afterall, you were his best friend. He should have been there for you, and he'd failed terribly by letting you get hurt and your wings stolen from you. He could hate himself every day for it, for letting you down. But it would never amount to what you felt for yourself and that killed him.

He could see it in the way you cried, in the way you were already keeping everyone out. He'd rather die than let you go through all the pain alone.

When his hands had been scarred by his brothers, you'd help heal him, tell him about everything he still was and all the power he still held in his hands. In the worst days, when he didn't let anyone touch him, he let you.

It was always you.

Azriel wasn't sure how long he'd been asleep, or how deep. He was sure he was still with you, still in your bed.

His shadows crept up on him, engulfing him slowly and whispering to him. Your name, just your name on repeat. It was enough to lull him back into sleep, to keep him calm.

Gone. Missing. y'n. Roof.

He shot up and ran fastest than he ever had in his life. It was as if he'd never been asleep but had been fighting a battle with the way he raced over.

He burst through the doors, the cold hight air hitting him.

You stood facing the stars, your bloody back to him. It wasn't as much blood as when he'd found you, but it was still enough to put a lump in his throat.

Immediately his shadows fell to you, cascading down your body and wrapping around your waist. There was a breeze in the air, pushing your hair back and exposing more signs of the pain and torture you must have gone through.

'I'm not gonna jump, if that's what you're thinking,' you said. You didn't even have to turn to him. The shadows probably told you enough.

'Why are you up here?' he asked, walking to you slowly and with careful steps. As if every step closer could you push you away from him.

'I'll never feel the win properly again,' you answered.

Azriel gulped down his own pain. You’d never sounded so small. ‘Can you get away from the ledge?’

'I'm not on the ledge.'

'You're too close for my liking.'

'Leave if you don't like it.'

'Don't do this,' he said.

'Do what?' you asked, folding your arms over your chest. You were cold, out in the hight but you wanted to see the stars. Needed to see them.

'Make me leave. Make everyone leave you. I know that's what you're doing. It's what you do every time,' you could feel him dawning closer. His shadows were all around you, almost drowning you.

‘Every time,’ you scoff, stepping down and turning on him. ‘It’s not every day you lose your wings Azriel! But don’t let me stop you from leaving, flap them and go!’ You yelled, unable to stop yourself, no matter how hard you tried. You didn’t want to hurt him, you just wanted to be alone.

Mate. Mate. Mate.

'You jump and I’ll catch you,' he said. He was a step away, he could just reach out and touch, just a gentle caress. 'I swear it, whatever you do, I’ll follow. I’m not letting you get away.’

He watched your back shudder as he reached out, brushing knuckles against your shoulder blade. He heard your sharp inhale follow.

'Don’t think I won’t follow, y/n.'

Finally, you turned around in his shadows. You couldn’t meet his eyes but at least you could face his chest.

His hands were gentle on your shoulder as he rubbed it gently. 'Can I get Madja to clean you up?' He asked.

You nodded as he led you away. You truly did not deserve your mate.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Fifty-two years later...

When Amarantha had trapped the high lords of Prythian under the mountain, it hadn't be a conscious choice to follow your half-brother down. How Amarantha had allowed it, you weren't sure, but perhaps she wanted to use you just like her brother, or she thought it would bring more pain for him to see you suffer under there too.

You and Rhysand had barley spoke the last two years.

It had took you almost two months to heal fully enough to leave your room, another few months to face your family again. But even then, everyone knew something had changed in you. You didn't laugh as loud or smile as wide.

Rhysand was careful to ever let you out on a mission. Mor tried to take you out every night. Cassian spent all day every day with you and Azriel- he'd healed you better than any nurse.

Still, you had not told him he was your mate.

Still, you thought he wouldn't want it.

Still, you cared for your brother enough to not want him to go alone.

But being under the mountain, you could avoid your mate. At a painful price.

Until her. Rhys's mate. He hadn't shut up about her since he first met her, much to your dismay as you had to sit around and listen- having absolutely nothing better to do. And it only got worse when she turned up under the mountain. She was declaring her love for Tamlin- again, annoying your brother, and throwing Lucien into danger- which rather angered you. You had nothing against the ginger.

Rhysand had once sent you to find the girl to summon her as part of a bargain he'd made. He didn't want to go, he didn't want to look too forceful. You'd been lucky enough to find the two tangled up in each other against a cold wall, clothes ripped and hips moving together.

'Well, well well,' you'd intterupted.

Tamlin all but growled at you, but feyre was looking over you- evidently confused. She had no idea who you were. You, in your skimpy outfit that Amarantha kept you in (they all dipped low at your back, showing off your scars) and your eyes that were like a night sky.

'Amarantha's looking for her pet and Rhysand is looking for his. Honestly, i'd be a bit more worried if I were you. You know, considering Lucien still has an eye to lose.'

The two parted with your words as you sent Tamlin back to his master, the high lord glaring at you as you went. While Feyre tried to fix herself.

'Rhysand is over there, better not keep him waiting.' That was the first time you met her, having no idea how much trouble she'd be worth. The family that she'd become.

But Rhysand made sure you knew it all. From when the bond snapped in him and he'd stumbled. He ranted and ranted as they climbed out.

If only you were so talkative about Azriel. If only you could talk about him with your brother. But you'd tried not to painfully think about him. Climbing out of the mountain. It was all you could think of.

Maybe he'd have forgotten you? it had been fifty years. He'd probably realised how happy he could be without having to take care of you.

Rhys was allowed out of the mountain, he'd felt the breeze in his hair but you hadn't in fifty long years. You stood there a moment, bathing in the warmth as everyone left, as everyone ran off for their families and courts and the war that was inevitable. Eventually, Rhys offered you his arm. 'Shall we go home?'

He winnowed you there, on the balcony of your home. In a cloud of black smoke, the two of you appeared.

He went first, slipping through the doors slowly- like it could all be taken from them any minute.

You were hesitant, taking a moment to glance at the landscape behind you. It hadn't changed, not at all. The mountains were still there, everyone was still alive. Your home. In the last years it hadn't felt like home, but how could anywhere ever feel so close in your heart.

When you could find your feat again, you managed to slip through the doors. You were suddenly aware of how little clothing you were wearing, just enough to cover your chest and run down your legs. A chill settled down your back, your scars would be on show. What a way to great them all after fifty years.

Mor had her arms around Rhys's shoulders, crying into his shoulder.

Behind them you caught Amren, with something like tears in her eyes. You were just about to tease her before a body barrelled into yours in a blur of red syphons and your feet were lifted from the ground.

'Cassian.'

His arms tightened around you. You shoulder started to dampen with tears, his tears. The last time you'd seen him cry around you was when he'd seen a dog with only three legs. 'I'm keeping you on a leash from now on, stupid idiot.'

Your arms wrap around his shoulders, a smile gracing your lips. 'Is that a promise?'

He held you longer, tighter, not daring to let you go but at least settling you on the ground. He sighed against your head, controlling himself. 'He's missed you, you know,' he said. He was the only one you'd told, about your mate. 'Now that you're back, tell him. He deserves to know.'

Cassian slowly pulled away, holding you at arms length and smiling at you. He kissed your cheeks and then your forehead before parting to Rhysand.

Mor approached you next, slapping you in the arm.

'Ow!'

'Why would you follow him?' she snapped.

You blinked at her before she took you by the arm she'd slapped and embraced you, like a sister would. You dared not looking over her shoulder to find the one who hadn't come to you. Maybe Cass had got it wrong...

Mor pulled away, wiping at her eyes.

Azriel was as beautiful as the day you left him. His hair was the same length, he was the same height. He was just as you left him. It was hard to tell fifty years had passed on him.

And inside of you, tugging in your soul and heart you felt the familiar string of gold throbbing. But you still didn't feel that tug. You'd hoped it would have faded from you after half a year separated. Or at least have snapped for him. But no such relief.

He approached you, slowly. As if he was scared of scaring you away. But you just stood there.

His arms were delicate and soft around you as he brought you into his chest. He still smelled the same, cedar wood and shadows. Shadows that wrapped around you, shielding you from the rest of the room. They caressed you, head to two.

You held onto each other for what could have been another fifty years, but this time, it wasn't so painful.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Although nobody wanted to part after yours and Rhysand's return, you were exhausted. A trip to Rita's could wait another night or two. The only thing you wanted to do was hide in your room.

Strangely, your room looked lived in. As if somebody had moved in since you'd left. A moment of anger replaced grief. Had they brought someone else and given them your room? but then you smelt it, Az.

Lying in bed that night, exhausted, you couldn't find sleep. You closed your eyes and pictured Amarantha. You'd never been afraid of her, you weren't afraid of anything. But you re-played the horrors. Watching servants beat Feyre, watching Amarantha use your brother and on the occasion, even you. How she flaunted. How the most powerful lords were weak.

Under your door, shadows seeped in, rushing across the room to you. You smiled, watching your hand disappear in their darkness.

'Azriel?' you called.

There was shifting on the other side of the door before he slipped in, clicking it shut behind him.

You sat up in bed, shadows moving with you. 'Couldn't sleep?'

He wondered in, looking around your room. 'Sleeping's been... hard.'

You rolled over, opening the blanket and nodding your head. You couldn't think about the bond, not yet. Not while he looked so.... ruined. Beautiful- the most beautiful person in the world, but sad. As he climbed in next to you, you could see the dark circles under his eyes, his shoulders slumped and his wings too.

His eyes scanned over you. You were in a thin and silk night dress that only brushed your knees, but the way he looked at you, mother you could've been naked. 'Fifty years,' his voice sounded barley controlled. 'Fifty years. You followed your brother down for fifty years? Why would you do that?'

You gulp. 'I would've done it for any of you. Except maybe Amren, she'd probably enjoy the peace for fifty years.'

You go to brush your hair back but Azriel seizes your wrist. He was angry. That's why his voice was rough and his chest rising and falling with barley controlled emotions. Could he feel it? your nerves, your lying?

'You left. You should've stayed, y/n, you know Rhysand didn't want you under there with him,' he said. 'For fifty years I haven't been able to sleep through a night thinking about the pain you must have been going through. After I swore to keep you safe, after I promised to catch you every time!'

'You couldn't have stopped me. You didn't promise, Az.'

His grip grew tighter. 'It went without saying.'

You looked around his eyes, seeing the pain and grief there also. Slowly, you brought your other hand up. He flinched as you took his cheek but eventually settled as your thumb ran over his cheekbone. 'I won't leave again, ok? I promise.'

He gulped, letting go of your wrist and looking down. 'I slept here,' he mumbled, but just loud enough to hear you. 'I couldn't sleep in my room. This was the only place I could rest.'

Your heart stuttered. Your hand dropped from his cheek. This man was your mate. Your mate. Your only love, whether or not the cauldron deemed it.

Azriel took your hesitation. 'I-i'm sorry, you probably didn't want to hear that. I've probably ruined your one place of peace-'

'Stay,' you said, before you could think of what you were asking. 'Sleeping wasn't exactly easy under the mountain either. I just trust I won't have to put a wall of cushions between us.' as if you wanted that. As if you haven't thought about his calloused hands all over you.

Azriel smiled and stayed the night.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

The third time he almost lost you, broke him...

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

[igotanidea]

Not enough: Anthony Bridgerton x reader

(Part 2 to too much)

„I am so terribly sorry for the inconvenience I might have brought on you with my sudden appearance-” she started while walking inside the place of her destination or, to put it more bluntly, after fleeting from her own house upon not-so-subtle fight with her still-husband.

„Y/n! Nonsense my dear, your presence is always welcomed here.” she heard in response and for the first time since the argument she managed to look into the eyes of another person as well as take in the scene in front of her.

Oh dear lord!

Her timing couldn’t be more wrong.

Apparently the only person who was missing from the widow viscountess Bridgerton household was the queen herself, since not only the lady of the house alongside with all her unmarried daughters were enjoying the afternoon tea, but - to Y/N’s very well hidden terror - the duchess and lady Danburry were present as well.

„duchess.” Y/N bowed in the most polite manner she could even though her knees were shaking „lady Danburry.”

Act like nothing happened.

Behave like a lady and not like a little kid, who came her to pour all her worries and tell on her husband who happened to be mean. The last thing she needed was for everyone to talk about her nervousness and giddiness. None of those ladies would be easily fooled and most definitely not lady Danburry with her nosy nature and piercing gaze.

The point was to visit her favourite sister-in-law Eloise who- luckily - were free of any marriage troubles and gain some perspective but that scenario flew away with the gentle summer breeze faster than Y/N could think.

And now she would be kindly invited to join the tea and the respect for widower viscountess alongside with the obligation to the higher positioned duchess (even if family) would forbid her from declining.

„Y/N.” Daphne sent her that tiny, quite shy smile that didn’t calm the nerves even in the slightest. Yes, the duchess was one of the most polite and subtle person in the society, but she was also happily married with another baby on the way.

„Viscountess Bridgerton.” the oldest, lady Danburry on the opposite was known from her sharp tongue and straightforward attitude. That one did not pull her punches.

„My dearest Y/N.” Violet Bridgerton, the mother in law stood up from her place and hugged the girl close. Obviously she was the most open one with her emotions. And the simple warm welcome made Y/n feel a bit strengthened to the point when she even gave a little smile. Tiniest, but honest and still visible.

„Is Anthony with you my dear?’

„Unfortunately my husband is absorbed with the matter of the household today.” Y/N explained, taking a seat next to Violet. „I was rather confused with all the men’s affairs, which brought me here.”

„confused?” Eloise, of whose presence everyone seemed to forget scoffed from her book „You are way smarter that Anthony is, Y/n!”

„Eloise!” her mother friendly scolded her second daughter

„It’s true mama!”

„Even though-’

„Did you come baring notices by any chance, viscountess?" lady Agatha cut into the family exchange innocently taking a sip of her tea, those sharp eyes of a predator glistening

„Notices?”

„Yes viscountess, notices. It;s been a fair amount of time since the marriage, surely something should happen soon between two people who are lucky enough to be in love as much as yo and the viscount?”

Oh...

Oh, she meant that kind of notices.

„May this be so, Y/n?” Daphne asked seeming uncharacteristically brisk. „shall we expect?”

„I certainly hope she won’t be burdened with the heir to the title any time soon--”

‘Eloise!”

„Is it the only purpose of a woman to be obedient to a man and give him children?!”

All the four older woman in the room went quiet and Eloise realised she might have had said a little bit too much. Not only for the lady but in general.

„I suppose our dearest Y/N would love to become a mother and bless us with the little boy or girl, am I correct?”

Of course I would love to, Violet.

I would love to.

Unfortunately so it happens your oldest son refuses to even speak or look at me, let alone performing his so-called marital duty. Which is even more tragic, since I became one to him. Here is the essence of my existence - forever being reminded of the burden I put on his shoulder with storming into his life.

Obviously those thoughts were something the newest viscountess Bridgerton could not form out loud.

„I shall send the regards to my husband ladies. Certainly will not omit to inform him of the expectation placed upon us both.” was the only thing she managed to say with confidence before her voice broke and she covered the sudden wavering by reaching for the sweet placed on the nearby platter.

„Oh my dearest Y/N, it’s no obligation!” Violet seemed quite hurt by the words spoken by her daughter-in-law „Regardless - a child is always a miracle that-”

„Maybe Y/N wouldn’t have to worry about it, if Anthony were taking more interest in her rather than spending time with Benny and Colin.”

„Eloise!”

„It’s just a simple observation! Benedict and Colin are still bachelors, even though the ladies of kind are sharpening their claws for them both, considering the fact the viscountess title is not longer available. Nonetheless, neither of them seem to be interested in taking in marriage-”

‘Eloise!” Violet called upon her daughter once more

„Perhaps if they weren’t spending their times in the club, effectively convincing Anthony to go with them--”

‘Enough, young lady!”

„But-”

„Enough Eloise.”

Y/N went pale at all the words spoken. Not because of their truthfulness, but due to the fact that the word already got out. This was a calamity she was trying her best to cover up and now her favourite member of the family announced them to the world, not thinking about the possible consequences of aforementioned action.

„Y/N, are you quite all right?” Daphne was the first one to take some action „that sudden pallor cannot be good for you. Shall we take a walk?”

Naturally the little stroll around the room will be something to make her feel better. Luckily the most perceptive Eloise noticed the torpid expression on the viscountess face and, not giving her sister any chance to press the matter further, vigorously explained that Daphne certainty meant an actual promenade outside on the manor grounds and that was something y/n was more than delighted to engage in.

Presenting a perfect opportunity to actually indulge in a meaningful conversation not regarding children and submission due to a woman.

***

On the other side of the city Anthony didn’t even notice his wife’s actual absence.

How could he, when she was always present and vivid in his mind, leaving him with her image in front of his eyes even when she was away from him.

Y/N’s face and silhouette, her smile and her resonant, joyful laughter were forever carved in his mind, ever since the day she laughed at him at the lake upon their first meeting, through the first moment of stolen forbidden intimacy, up to the moment looked into her eyes while vowing to love and to cherish her.

His beautiful bride.

His beautiful wife.

Strong willed, hot headed, always having an opinion of her own and doing things her own way, capable to charm everyone with the cheerful character and most natural humor and intelligence.

All the traits that could not be bought by any of the obedient, quiet and shy ladies from high society.

All the traits that put him under her spell and made him want to spend the rest of his life with Y/n.

Only with her.

And he didn’t want to fight, he wanted the same kind of marriage his own parents were joyful to share.

It was all so perfect, until the moment those bright memories got covered with storm clouds of how he behave towards her.  

Not that the viscount gave them much thoughts, too lost in his own meaningless settlements that were not due till the fore-coming month.

It was easier this way.

Forgetting about all the words he said int he moment of anger and of fear (if not mere terror) of his own emotions.

Emotions that, unfortunately, refused to be closed in a hard shell of harsh, obsessive behaviour and being ignored.

Once let out, they wanted to run free.

And oh, so they did, causing the viscount to feel dizzy and giving him palpitations.

All the marriages had their bad moments.

It was impossible to continue for years keeping the same flame that started years ago.

The wife was supposed to be obedient and comply with her husband wishes, especially not bothering him with her presence and whimsical needs or fairy-tell beliefs.

A lady was a diamond in the crown but a wife became a part of the estate, of the livestock. Forever in her husband’s hand to rule.

He was the the man.

He was the viscount and before he met her she was just another long-forgotten by admirers débutante desperate to--

No.

No this was not true and as much as it would be comfortable for Anthony to dwell in all those thoughts, his heart was still in the right place giving him a very clear signal it was time to stop justifying his previous action. Those were the foundation for a very unstable and fragile house that could be blown away easily.

Maybe it wasn’t that his emotions were too much. Maybe it was that his heart capacity was not enough to contain the amount of affection he held for his one and only.

His Y/N.

And he couldn’t have that.

He had to find her wherever she might have been.

He had to fight for her and make it all right.

Even if that meant getting back on his knees, making a scene straight out of those unrealistic romance novels ladies loved and putting it into practice.

„Where on earth is my wife?!” he yelled to the servants, opening the door to his office, his voice loud enough to make the walls shake.

I’m coming for you, my viscountess.

My love.

***

It's not over yet!

Edit: part 3 : almost there

@pietrawebster @chrissisheadisinclouds @fuzzym4m4

@gloomysel @urfavnoirette @dd122004dd @milkbummm

@bevstofu @taniasethi @syraxnyra @cat-lockwood @pr3ttyfac3jaelyn

[trans-cuchulainn]

i don't have the words to articulate it at this moment but there's something about the way that people have specific expectations for "authenticity" and will dismiss anything that falls outside them as a mangled, anglicised version of the thing when actually that is the older and more traditional form of something, it just doesn't match their expectations. obviously in my personal experiences i'm mostly talking about medieval literature here especially medieval irish literature

sometimes this is as simple as spelling – i've had people argue that the name "finn" is anglicised and it should always be "fionn" to be Really Irish, but "finn" is an older spelling, glide vowels are later, if you wanna go real far back it'll be "find" (nd in place of nn is an older spelling pattern). or they'll hear someone say "ogam" and assume they're mispronouncing "ogham" due to lack of knowledge of irish and not consider the fact that medievalists tend to use the older form of the word. or they'll Well Actually you about "correct" terminology which wasn't standardised (and/or invented) until the 20th century

a lot of this is defensive and the result of seeing a lot of people ACTUALLY get this stuff wrong and have no respect for the language. in that regard i understand it, although it becomes very tedious after a while, particularly when people sanctimoniously declare something "inauthentic", "fake", or "anglicised" without doing enough research to realise it's not trying to be modern irish and is in fact correct for older forms of the language

more often however this search for the projected "authenticity" is ideological and has much larger flaws and more problematic implications. "this can't be the real story because it's christian" well... that's the oldest version of the story that exists and it postdates christianity in ireland by about nine hundred years, so... maybe question why you're assuming the only "real" version of irish stories can't be a christian one? this is especially true when it comes to fíanaigecht material tbh, but in general there seems to a widespread misapprehension about ireland's historical relationship with christianity (i have seen people arguing that christianity in ireland is the result of english colonialism which took their "true" faith from them... bro. they were christian before the "english" existed. half the conversion efforts went the other way. please read some early medieval history thank you)

however i also saw someone saying this about arthurian literature lately which REALLY baffled me. "we'll never have the Real arthurian stories only the christianised versions" and it was in the context of chivalric romance. buddy you are mourning something that does not exist. this "authentic" story you're looking for isn't there. that twelfth century story you're dismissing as a christian bastardisation is as "real" a part of this tradition as you're going to get

[justporo]

Who's the goose... (1)

Finally having arrived in Baldur's Gate, Astarion finds the wrong pocket to pick - and gets turned into a goose as punishement. Peace was never an option.

PART 2 | MASTERLIST | AO3

Author's Note: This might as well have been the stupidest idea I've ever had but I couldn't get it out of my head, so here we are. Thanks for input and giving me some more stupid ideas for this to my bf, @tatterings, @bearhugsandshrugs and @the-littlest-raindrop and @megschaef98 for already cackling about it (and everyone else on that server for your love and support!); ah also Neil Newbon for coming up with this... The wonderful little doodle is once more done by the lovely @azaani-art!

Pairing: Uhm, Goosetarion(Astarion)/GN!Tav (You)

Rating: Stupid

Warnings: goose? (I'm sorry, I'm really just running with the bit by now...)

Wordcount: 3,7k

~~~

A goose sat in front of you all.

And it looked weirdly humanoid how it sat there: tiny rubbery legs stretched out in front of it and the wings too – as if it didn’t know how to properly move or place them.

The goose’s head turned around on the long neck to look at you and your companions out of its small red button eyes. The feathers on top of its head were a bit ruffled and almost gave it the look of having a flurry of white curls right there.

It lifted its stretched out wings a little. Looked at them one after another and made a small croaking noise as it did so.

That made it shut its beak again and snap its red gaze back to you.

You looked down at the goose in shock. The goose looked at you with what you presumed was shock too.

And then it opened its beak wide and started wailing with loud honks, as loud as its avian lungs would allow.

The party had finally arrived at Baldur’s Gate. And then had quickly realised that none of you had really an idea where to start your investigation. So, you had taken to walk around the Lower City and just casually ask around to find out more about what seemed to be going on in the city – especially with this Lord Enver Gortash and his newly established Steel Watch.

The day had been long and exhausting. You all kind of had forgotten how a day without a battle, killing and mortal peril was spent – just walking around in the city, engaging in inconspicuous small talk and trying not to lose your mind by getting nowhere with it – what could possibly be more dreadful than that?

Morale had already been low since the start. Halsin had very obviously been a bit unsettled by the big, bustling city, no matter how much he had tried to hide it. Jaheira had just stoically taken in the city and what had changed since she had last been there. Lae’zel had basically been gnawing on your ears with her complaints of how stupid your approach of talking to people was. That in turn had made Shadowheart almost want to choke her (again). And Wyll had become awfully silent since you’d entered the city – too much was weighing on his mind. Gale was just sad.

Karlach probably was the only one in quite the happy mood: since it’s been a very long time for her since she’s actually been to Baldur’s Gate she was just amazed by everything she saw. And she promptly called that out. Every. Single. Thing. So really not doing anything to help with the low mood of the group.

You had just tried to make the best out of it although you certainly had had to admit to yourself that the missing success of your day had been weighing on you also. But you had tried to be stubborn about it.

Astarion had walked by your side the whole day, surprisingly diligent on his part. You had felt that he was tense – as could have been expected upon entering the lair of his master again. But he had really tried to support you with your current goals – and you were absolutely thankful for that.

But as the day had grown late you had felt the annoyance rise in him too, just as much as it had within you.

It had already become dark in the city. Lanterns and the pale moonlight now had been the only sources of light. You had known that the group should’ve soon gotten back to the inn to retire for the night – despite having found out nothing today.

But you had wanted to push for one last attempt - unfortunately. And when you had happened upon a rather feisty older fellow, Astarion’s thin-stretched patience had finally snapped.

After you had tried to talk to this guy and he had only kept answering in riddles, you had been about to give up when you had noticed that the vampire beside you had disappeared.

You had feared nothing good from this finding and sure as all Nine Hells you had seen how Astarion had tried to sneak up on this man and pickpocket him.

And this had been, when things had really gone sideways – and then backwards; and down a hill.

With Astarion’s hands still in his robe the man had turned around to the vampire and looked him straight in the eye: “What do you think you’re doing there, young man?” He hadn’t even sounded awfully angry, rather a bit amused.

Astarion had simply blinked at him, absolutely dumbfounded that he had so easily been found out. The guy had watched him for a second longer with a small, suppressed smile playing on his lips and then started to whisper as an ominous purple glow had started to emit from him.

The vampire had hastily tried to scurry back, but it was already too late. An explosion of purple light had blinded you all and made you turn away with groans.

And when you had turned around again, both men standing there had been gone, only a single goose left in their place that had looked dazed and very out of place.

So here you were now: with a vampire turned into a screaming goose.

You really didn’t know if you wanted to laugh or cry – probably both. The wailing from polymorphed Astarion was ringing in your ears. Gods, geese could be really loud, couldn’t they?

You looked around your group of friends in desperate need for help.

Karlach had completely lost it, almost doubled over on the cobblestone street. Even Lae’zel bit her bottom lip in an attempt to not burst out laughing, covering half her face with one of her hands. But most of your other companions just looked as shocked and surprised as you.

Gale had his hand on his chin and was obviously very deep in thought – surely, he was already figuring something out to fix this mess. At least you immediately deeply hoped for it.

For a moment you just stood there. Warm, orange light from some nearby windows was lighting the absurd scene. The goose’s wailing drifted to the background for a few moments as your vision blurred and your gaze wandered miles away.

How exactly had you ended up in this ridiculous situation? Out of everything, how had all the steps you had taken led you to this night where your already traumatised soulmate had been turned into poultry and was now shouting the whole city down? Didn’t you have enough on your godsdamned plate already? Would the damned gods ever give you a break?

Your eyes started to burn and water as you stared into the void. You really couldn’t take much more.

But how many times had you been at this point? Too many already anyways.

So, you did, what you always did: took a deep breath, closed your eyes for a hot second, pressed your fingers to the bridge of your nose and tried to focus your thoughts again.

You’d find a way out of this and if not… Well, you’d find a way to live with Astarion as a goose, for better or for worse.

When you focused again on the scene, you saw how Halsin was slowly approaching the goose that was Astarion and was still honking as if his life depended on it – and maybe it did, who knew? Gale was whispering an incantation and focusing on the goose. The rest was just still standing around with quizzical looks on their faces or casually losing it and losing their last shreds of sanity.

Halsin had almost reached the crying bird, all the while softly mumbling calming words to Astarion. The druid stretched out his arms as if he planned to pick up the still screaming animal.

But just before he could reach it, Astarion saw it coming, stopped his whining and jumped up with fluttering wings. With a quickness that would have been astounding for such an animal, had you not known that it was normally a dexterous rogue, the goose got up from its awkward sitting position and snapped at the fingers of the druid. Halsin immediately recoiled and looked a little hurt.

Astarion was flaring his big white wings now – lifting them up and his long goose neck stretched out, ready to snap again at anyone that tried to touch him. At least he had stopped honking now and was just swaying his head around at all of you standing around him in a loose half circle – ready to fight anyone who would dare touch a single feather on his head.

“Astarion?”, you asked cautiously, fearing that the transmutation hadn’t altered the vampire’s mind as well. The goose immediately turned to you, a small and much more silent honk left its throat. Its wings lowered a little as soon as it heard your voice. “I know this will sound stupid given the situation, but uh, please try to calm down?”, you asked him and made a grimace while you helplessly stretched out your arms to him, bending your knees.

Astarion honked once more in a clearly annoyed tone and let his wings sink fully as if he was letting his shoulders drop in defeat.

“I’m sorry”, you whispered and felt a wave of sadness wash over you. Meanwhile the others had started to get out of their stupor or calmed themselves from their laughter. Everyone stayed clear of the clearly readily violent goose though.

You crouched down fully and stretched out your arms even more towards the animal that kept watching you intently. With no more words or honks, the goose settled down its wings and carefully waddled over to you and your opened arms.

Once Astarion was very close you couldn’t help yourself but go to your knees and reach out both your arms wider for the animal – ready to give it a hug. Astarion slowly stepped into them and you carefully wrapped your arms around the goose as it made a small honk. It sounded pretty sad and helpless and you could suddenly feel tears well up in your eyes.

You held the much smaller animal. The feathers were surprisingly soft and Astarion carefully placed his small goose head on your shoulder with another quiet honk. It was so light you could barely feel it at all resting there.

The mood in the group had suddenly soured watching you take your partner in your arms – no matter the actual ridiculousness of the situation.

You held the goose and petted it softly, until Gale interrupted the awkward silence with an exclamation.

“Aha”, the wizard made and came back out of his trancelike concentration. He looked around in some confusion as everyone watched the tragic scene of you sadly hugging the poor animal that had awkwardly stretched out its wings a little to return the sentiment – it hadn’t really worked well.

“Uhm”, Gale made and then cleared his throat to catch everyone’s attention. The group just looked at him in silence.

“By the gods, what is with the sudden graveyard atmosphere? You all do realise Astarion is not de- I mean…”, he started sassily and interrupted himself when he realised his mistake. And before he could start again, the bird in your arms had started writhing and honking again. Obviously, Astarion had opinions on not getting the same kind of compassion from Gale as from the others now.

He tried to break free from your arms, but you held him easily – he was just… a goose after all. Although, you got whacked in the face by his wings several times. “Astarion!”, you scolded him. “I really don’t think you’re in a position to be feisty right now. And I’m pretty sure he has something to share that will help about the situation you are in. And might I add, the situation you put yourself in on your own!” A bit of anger welled up in you at the vampire and his godsdamned shenanigans that had landed you all in this mess now. Also his audacity to still be sassy about it – not even being turned into a featherball could stop him from that, it seemed.

The goose calmed down, reluctantly. Its beak was still open as it stared at the wizard – probably the equivalent of the vampire baring his teeth at him. You carefully let him go and just sat down backwards on the ground. You could use it right now.

“Now, if we’re not in a poultry house anymore”, Gale continued cheerily and gave the present poultry a death glare. The goose gave a very slight hiss – at least he had retained that capability.

You waved Gale to please go on.

“Alright, it’s – as you might’ve figured already – a transmutation spell. And might I add a mighty one. I really have no idea who that fellow was, but it surely was the wrong pocket to pick, Astarion – or might I say Goosetarion”, the wizard explained in his scholarly manor and wiggled a finger at the goose while grinning – earning himself another hiss. At least someone present seemed intrigued about the whole situation.

Hearing that it was a mighty spell already let your heart sink. But Gale went on and everyone just listened intently: “The good news is though: transmutations spells can’t be held for overly long. So, I’d say we’re back with our sassy humanoid companion in about…” Gale drew out his words as everyone hung on his lips.

“I’d say twenty-four hours at the latest.”

“TWENTY-FOUR HOURS”, came back the answer in unison from almost all the companions – and a mournful honk. Your mouth fell open but honestly you were immediately flooded with relief that you wouldn’t have to spend the rest of your life with a goose – although you would have committed to that.

“Tchk, and what are we going to do with him in the meantime? Walk him around on a leash? We can’t waste any time!”, Lae’zel commented. Karlach started to snicker again, and so did Shadowheart and Wyll around her.

Goosetarion small red eyes flashed viciously and he quickly lashed out at her like he had at Halsin before, aiming for the githyanki ankle. But Lae’zel had the upper hand and quickly pushed him away with her foot – not exactly kicking him but not exactly being gentle either.

The goose landed ungracefully on its back, legs flailing in the air while it kept complaining and trying to get up again.

“Lae’zel”, you shouted but she simply shrugged at you.

“Well, what else are we going to do? Tomorrow will just be another day of walking around the city trying to gather more information. What harm can it be then? Also, it’s not like we could just leave him here anywhere anyway. Beastly as he is, but he’s still only a goose now, we need to protect him”, Wyll chimed in sympathetically. You nodded your head in agreement and the others muttered their agreement, although some just a tad reluctantly.

Goosetarion in the meanwhile had waddled back over to you to be embraced again, head hanging slightly, doing his best to look like… well, a kicked goose.

You softly stroked his long feathery neck and noticed to your amusement that his rump started to wiggle when you did that. It surely seemed he wasn’t aware that he was doing that. You couldn’t hide a grin and you saw that Halsin grinned at you and the goose too.

“Can we just go back to the inn then? It’s already super late and my feet hurt”, Shadowheart added after it had been settled. Everyone hummed in exhausted agreement.

And so you went on your way. You softly got up from your seat on the cobble road while the goose complained about the lack of caressing happening. You stretched your back and watched after your friends that had already started to walk back towards your location for the night.

“Want me to carry you?”, you asked looking down at the goose and stretched out your arms again. But Goosetarion gave a curt honk and stretched his long neck away from you in an offended manner, then started to waddle after the others.

Now that you knew that he would hopefully be back to his normal humanoid self very soon, the humorous nature of the situation wasn’t as lost on you anymore. The way the goose wiggled its whole torso around while trying to catch up with the others was a sight to behold. Especially if you compared it with Astarion’s usual feline grace. And yet he was way too proud to just accept help.

You snorted and started to follow behind Goosetarion. He heard that and swung his head around while he kept walking, making him look even more ridiculous. You snorted more. And were pretty sure you could see the small red eyes scream bloody murder at you for mocking him.

But Astarion was way too focused and needed all his energy to keep up. Occasionally, he even had to break into a sprint – almost tripping over his rubbery feet and spreading out his wings to not lose balance. It was truly hilarious.

Some idle chatter developed between the companions and you on the way back. And of course, Goosetarion was the subject matter.

“Is there nothing you can do before the spell runs out?”, you asked Gale at some point while you were careful to walk exactly by the goose to offer at least a little protection.

“Oh, believe me, I would if I could – although I have to say I’m enjoying this situation a little bit-“ (“HONK!”) “ but it is, as I pointed out before, a pretty powerful spell. And if I started to fumble with it I might make it worse and-“ (“Honk…”) “- and I guess you’d rather have him back in one piece”, Gale ended and ignored the bickering animal between him and you. You nodded in agreement with the wizard – seemed your safest bet would be to just sit this one out.

“Looks like until tomorrow you’re just going to be a silly little goose then, aren’t you, Asta-OWW!” That had been a line crossed for Goosetarion. And other than Halsin and Lae’zel, the wizard surely was not quick enough to avoid the rogue goose’s vicious attack on his ankles. Gale awkwardly tried to kick at the goose but Goosetarion had learnt from the last time and quickly ducked out of the way, rushing around you so he could hide behind your legs.

“You had that one coming”, you mumbled under your breath as Gale looked at you hurt. He walked a little faster then, trying to steer clear from the murderous bird and engaged others in conversation. Goosetarion waddled through your legs so he was walking in front of you again although you noticed that he was clearly starting to struggle

“And couldn’t you not just at least cast “Speak with animals” or something?”, Karlach took up the conversation about Goosetarion’s fate. You hadn’t even thought of that so far. You had just been too occupied with the situation as a whole. You simply shrugged because you had absolutely no idea.

“But he is not an animal”, Jaheira replied to Karlach’s suggestion in her matter-of-fact demeanor from in front of you. Halsin beside her nodded silently. “He is still his vampiric elven self, just temporarily in another form. Even if Halsin or I wildshaped into geese we would not be able to speak with him because we are at least partly beast when we turn”, the infamous druid added to her explanation. “As far as I know there is no spell to work in this situation. But quite frankly maybe we could all do without his yapping for at least a day and he learns a lesson about all of this”, she finished and gave the goose a stern look.

Goosetarion stopped and made another rather sad honk. He really must have been having the worst and most humbling of times.

You stopped just behind the goose: “I’m sure she didn’t mean it.” The look Jaheira gave you made sure though that she absolutely did, but you brushed over it. You held out your arms to the goose again. However, Goosetarion again just waddled off on his own.

But the way to the inn was long and the goose was soon almost completely exhausted, probably amplified by not being used to moving around like that. At some point, when you had already slid out of all the other conversations and were just deep in your thoughts, you were stopped by another soft honk just below you.

Astarion stood before you and had spread his wings towards you, neck craned up towards you. It again looked weirdly humanoid with the way he moved and behaved. When you didn’t immediately react because you were really just very exhausted and didn’t catch on, the goose started to kind of hop in place and honked again.

“Oh, you want to be picked up! Sorry”, you replied and bent down to awkwardly grab the animal.

After some wriggling around and Astarion’s earnest tries to not writhe around too much in your arms, you were able to lift him up. He was stretching his neck and small feet out and made small noises that made you think that he wasn’t quite very comfortable with what was happening. But he gave his best to cope.

Once you kind of had him settled down on your hip, one arm around him and one under him to support him, he seemed to be considerably more comfortable, better even. When you had caught up to the others again and Gale sassily lifted an eyebrow at the goose now being carried around, Astarion made full use of his long neck to peck at the wizard’s sleeve.

Gale squealed again – much to the amusement of the rest of the group and made sure to keep even more distance from the goose. Goosetarion gave a contented honk then and refrained from biting anyone else for the rest of the way.

You were still laughing softly with the others, when the inn came into view. At least you hadn’t lost your humour so far.

(To be continued...)

~~~

Taglist: @spacebarbarianweird @sunfire-ancunin @tragedybunny @dependsonthedream @tallymonster @magazzne @micropoe10 @aoirohi @my-bunny-prince @lumienyx @fayeriess @bloopthebat @dark-star-exe

[daddyricsdoll]

False God ✭ Max Verstappen

Summary: Being lost spiritually isn't something you can brag about, but finding a new belief in someone is. From that alluring man in the F1 paddock to finding out he's the Max Verstappen didn't effect you as much as discovering his lips are your new religion even if it's a false god.

Warnings: The use of y/n!! (I used it 2-3 times), unprotected sex (what else could you expect from me?), teasing, reader is a virgin, mirror sex, oral sex (female receiving), fingering, creampie, praise, and use of names (good girl), also overstimulation and dacyphilia. I don't know if taking a photo of a naked person counts as a warning or spoiler, I guess it's both.

Word Count: 4.5k

A/N: Based off of this request. I would also like to thank @mrsevansxstanxobrien for saving me by giving me a perfect storyline for this. 🧡 And also all everyone who waited for this. I feel like adding more at the end, maybe a part two.

Never would I have ever thought I’d wear this dress. But I’ve been lost, and these girls are helping me become found. I’m not used to the material leaving my shoulders exposed and ending before my knees. Some of my family wouldn’t approve, but I feel… pretty. I would’ve worried that my place in heaven might slowly crumble but now, I don’t know. 

I feel so happy and people are looking at me. In my little white dress, the one that hugs my torso and sways around my thighs, loose straps hung above my shoulders. 

This feels like heaven. Being in a place I’ve never heard of with my friends as they pull me to different small buildings. “Come on!! We have to find any driver we can. If you see one, tell me!” Lissie smiles, eyes shooting everywhere just like my other two friends.

“I don’t know what any of the drivers look like.” I say my words with worry but chuckles lacing them. 

“If you see a good looking guy with people around him, then tell me.” I laugh hearing others agree. 

“Oh specifically if they wear red or orange- Ferrari and McLaren drivers, oh even Mercedes which is black.”

“Ok… I’ll try.” Feeling uncertain about this whole thing but I nod. Walking through the paddock and turning my head at every man that would emit a good thought into my head. They looked at me too and I prayed to god hoping it weren't for the wrong reasons. 

My friends quickly spotted a driver and we all got photos and signatures, his name was Charles last I recall and now I understand one of the reasons he has so many fans. He signed my paddock pass in record time and then sent us a remarkable smile. 

We had to leave him and those dimples to jog the other way for drivers who had just finished FP2, meeting so many as my friends explained to me the whole purpose of this. 

Some drivers walked in pairs making it all the more easier for us to capture a second with them. 

I was getting one of my friends' hats signed by a driver called George when my eyes left his hand, looking into the crowd all around us. Somehow locking eyes with a stranger, he then looked me up and down a small smirk on his face.

And I could only do the same, my eyes travelled down his body, his jeans that hugged his thick thighs and red bull polo tight around his shoulders then hanging around the rest of his torso. I became flushed and looked away for a second to gain composure but when I looked back he wasn’t there. It was like he was a dream. 

“Y/n, you good?” Lissie asked, checking in on me as I hadn’t realised they started walking again. “Oh, um yeah I got distracted. So who else do we have to find?” 

“Great question, so I heard that Max is around here somewhere, he might be gone but still keep an eye out for him. And Alex, I love him with my whole heart but our telepathy isn’t telling me where he is.” We both laugh and it feels so good, the afternoon soon reaching the evening. She checks her watch and then looks back at me. “Oh, we have 3 hours until dinner so we can go back to the hotel, do things there, eat, party and then we’ll be back here tomorrow. Sounds good?” I couldn’t say no to that plan so we ended up going back to the hotel. 

20 minutes of swimming in the empty hotel pool turned into nearly 2 hours and now we were running a little behind schedule. We rushed to get ready, but oh didn’t we still look good. “We’re gonna meet the other girls there.” Lissie tells me as we get seated in the back of a taxi, adjusting her makeup. I nod, turning my head to look out of the window, I hold the cross around my neck fiddling with it whenever I get too deep into my thoughts. 

I cast eyes on many people today but that one guy, from the way he looked at me with a light smirk to the smallest tingling feeling he sent through my body. It was as if he tried to make out my whole personality in one glance, if only I could’ve done the same. 

The scenario plays in my head multiple times, each time I react in a different way– my default ways of a smile or being a whole different person by sending him a smirk, or calling him over. 

I know I shouldn’t worry about that, if worried is a word close to what I’m experiencing. But my thoughts make the ride shorter and we both hop out of the car, wearing outfits suitable for a restaurant and a dirty club right after. We stood just outside the restaurant waiting for Leah and Milan.

Taxi’s drove past and dropped people off, each one we looked into searching for those two girls. Then suddenly a car made an abrupt stop in front of us. The windows were tinted and it limited our vision inside of the car. Just until the door opened and a partially familiar figure started getting out of the car.

His face came into view and so many emotions ran through me in that second that Lissies scream was the only thing that brought me back. “It’s Max Verstappen! Oh my god! Can I get a photo or a signature or anything?!” She rushes toward him, searching her bag and finding a pen. I was still in shock, he is Max Verstappen? 

Next thing I know he’s standing in front of me. “Would you like a photo or signature?” He asks me so kindly, making me wonder if he was the guy whose eyes roamed my body then smirked at me like he knew exactly how I’d react. 

“I-um sure. Well I don’t really have anything to sign.” And then a piece of paper is passed to me from Lissie. “Oh, thanks.” I grab it and hold it out to Max, watching as he stares at my face long enough to memorise every inch. He looks away to sign my paper, taking longer than I would’ve thought, but when he gives me that smirk from earlier everything leaves my mind. He then starts walking away, getting interrupted by other fans.

Each step he took further away I wanted to say something even more, call him back, talk to him. But why and what for?

My eyes look down at the paper, his signature, but I see some of the pen ink on the other side, flipping the paper over my breath hitches at what’s written. “Be a good girl” I read, my eyes then following an arrow that points to his number. I lightly squeezed my legs together and tried to force the pink off my cheeks. I couldn’t help but stare at it in disbelief before quickly folding it and shoving it into my bag. “You good?” Lissie asks me.

“Yeah, just surprised.” 

“I know, that was really unexpected but luckily we all got something from Max. I got a photo with him as well he looked so fucking good in that suit.”

She was right, he did look so good and that feeling he made me feel, oh it was stronger than before but a small fire between my legs also grew. I just hoped it wasn’t lust, especially for a man I just learnt the name of. ✭

The next morning we were back in the paddock, me being the only one not partially hungover by the drug of alcohol. We started walking past the red bull hospitality, my eyes flickering over to the door praying to see that one man. But my prayer wasn’t answered as FP3 started and I only saw him on a big screen. 

Once FP3 finished we stayed in McLaren hospitality for a little while longer waiting to catch a glimpse of the two stars with the fastest lap times. And to our luck both of the Mclaren drivers walked in, but they weren’t the only ones, Max Verstappen walked beside Lando in his dark blue drivers suit. I ran up to them with my friends, letting them congratulate the drivers as I stood back. Not noticing one of the drivers leave until a feather touch of a hand was on my back. “You didn’t call or text me. And I thought you were gonna be my good girl.”

I took a deep breath, somehow knowing exactly whose voice it was. 

“It’s gonna take more than that. But tell me… what do you really want?” My voice firmer and somehow trying to gain confidence like his, soon feeling even more flustered when I hear his chuckle beside me. “What do I want? Oh honey, I want you.” My lips part, trying to control my breathing through my mouth. His finger comes beneath my chin and my head is lifted to the side to face him. His fingers trickle down my chin and throat, reaching the cross that sits barely above my cleavage. 

“What’s this?”

“It’s um…” I became lost for words, knowing exactly what I would’ve said but I can’t say it to him. He deserves so much more.

“I’m not into this stuff, gods and everything. They don’t really do much for you, but you give them everything.” I shake my head lightly, trying to show my disagreement but not make him want to leave me. 

“Oh? My good girl doesn’t believe me?” The fake surprise on his face teases me. “Would your god let me touch you? Would he let me make you cry from my dick?” Max brings his face closer to mine, just enough for his breath to touch my ear. His large hands run down my arms and he grabs a hold of my phone. 

“Unlock it.” He commands me, crystal blue eyes hypnotising me. And without a question, I unlocked it.

“Now you have no excuse to not call me.” He shows me his number in which he just typed into my contacts, calling it to watch his phone start ringing. “Now I have yours.” He saves my number, looking back up at me. “Now won’t you tell me your name?” 

“Why? You’ll only call me your good girl.” My lips move faster than my mind. Not recognising my own words. 

“My good girl, trying to be someone you’re not. Now, tell. Me. Your. Name.”

“Y/n.” I say watching a pleased smile on his perfect lips. And then just like last night he leaves me there, standing thinking about something bigger than the whole world—him. ✭

Up came the race day, the one in which the whole place was filled, park passes, hospitality and grandstands. We came in earlier than usual after the girls all somehow noticed the end of me and Max's last interaction. Going crazy and asking if there’s something between us, what his hands feel like, if I’m his new wag and will I see him after this all. 

I thought about that last question longer. I don’t know if god brought us together or maybe he’s something here for something else, but I don’t usually enjoy having no clue what’s going on, so I plan on finding out. 

We find a seat in hospitality and when I finally gain the courage to send Max a text I see that he’s beat me to it. 

‘You’re not my good girl anymore’

‘Why don’t you come to redbull and I’ll show you what you really are’

I become flushed at his words, squeezing my legs together. Checking the time he sent the message I curse at myself for not seeing it earlier. We have nearly half an hour left until the race and all the drivers are with their teams. I couldn’t possibly go now, so I blame myself for not being able to touch his skin or hear his voice before the race.

So instead I send him a text, replying to the ones he had sent.

‘How about you win the race and I’ll be your good girl’

It barely takes a minute for the message to turn from delivered to read. He starts typing then stops, typing again then stopping. He teases me with that for what feels like hours, until I finally receive something. 

‘Be ready, once I’m done you won’t be able to say your name.’

I was speechless, leaving his message on read, letting him know he already stole all the words from me. I turn my phone off, watching the last few pre race interviews before I see Max walk past behind a crowd of people. A tiny smirk on his face, I smile knowing it was for me. 

My emotions throughout the whole race were a rollercoaster. Watching a crash between 3 drivers had me praying they were all ok and that it would never come across Max. There were battles all over the circuit, Max managing to never be a part of any as he led the race. I was surprised at how fast the race went by, from complaining about the length of them to now letting the time run right past.

My friends pulled me away once the race ended, telling me we had to watch the podium. And I was glad I let them take me. I watched max from below, majestic being the word to explain him. He wore his suit and sweat trickled on him, hair swept to the side like always. His eyes so soft I couldn’t imagine he was the same man that threatened to make me cry from his dick. I’m not complaining but he looked so content, so happy with himself and he never had needed God's validation. 

Everything in my head seems to become blurry, Max’s smile the only thing still keeping me here. I manage to find his eyes, remembering the blue of it from the first time. His lips change and I’m certain I see his signature smirk, just for me. 

When both of the national anthems finish they start spraying champagne, becoming my queue to escape to the red bull hospitality. I didn’t have any clue where to go so I waited for him outside the building. 

His teammate Checo walked past me, giving me a smile like I was any fan and then a crowd of people were making their way here. All following the man himself, Max Verstappen. He sees me standing there, that one smirk arises on his face before he whispers something to the woman beside him, probably his assistant or something, because once they reach me she smiles and then takes me to his driver's room as Max finishes with all the fans.

I take in the surroundings, the room being small but big enough to fit the things he needs. A decent sized bathroom and a mirror being the door of his cupboard filled with redbull polos, which seem to be the only thing he wears. 

“You going through my stuff, doll?” I turn at the noise, seeing Max walk into the room and start unzipping his racing suit.

“No, you left me in a room alone, what else am I to do?”

He chuckles and walks closer to me, his suit now hanging around his waist. He comes closer, nearly caging me into the wall with his body. A few strands of his hair fell and now hang between the two of us. I have nowhere to go, not like I’d ever want to leave, but it’s not like he’d let me. 

“I won.” He breathes out.

“And now I’m your good girl.” Max shakes his head, chuckling as his arm rests on the wall above my head.

“You’re not a good girl… but I’m gonna make you one.” He moves his head closer to mine, nearly touching my skin with his lips but he doesn’t make contact. Teasing me by going along my face and down my neck. So close I can feel his breath, but he never touches me. Trailing across my collar bone as I try to ease my breathing.

I lightly arch my back, bringing my chest closer to him, trying to force the contact. But then he stops. He grabs my pendant, the one of a cross. 

“You’ve been worshipping the same man for years, would it bring you to hell to worship another? Let’s say… me.” 

I don’t have time for a reaction as he smashes his lips into mine, taking my breath away. His hands cup either side of my face, holding me in place as he kisses my lips in a way no other person has before. My body writhes against the wall, having no clue what to do but touch him. Try and touch him in a way no person ever has and ever will. 

That my religion is his lips.

I lean into his touch when his hand reaches up my shirt, not touching my breasts yet, but caressing the skin of my back and waist. Max groans into my mouth, lighting a fuse between my legs that I tried to keep out. 

My nails dig into his shoulders, fireproof still tight along his body. I can’t control my body, wanting to feel every inch of him against and inside me. 

“If you wanna be a good girl, then you can wait.” I whine at his words when his lips leave me. My chest still arched and body screamed with need. “I don’t want you to move.” He tells me, eyes a darker shade and voice commanding. I nod my head quickly, hoping the faster I am, he will be. “So needy.” Max chuckles almost as if he’s teasing me of wanting him so much. 

He starts closing the gap between us, standing directly in front of me and looking down because of our heights. I grow accustomed to the heat his body spreads and the pink of his post-race cheeks. Falling for his looks before his touch steals my attention. His fingers slide down the side zip of my short skirt, pulling it down my legs until it reaches the floor. He pushes my legs apart with his foot and my pussy pulses with anticipation. 

I observe him as his fingers don’t go close to where I need him, instead doing the job of taking my top off of me. I lift my arms up to help him, feeling the cool air of the room brush against my body. 

“Take the rest off.” He tells me, standing back to watch my whole body. Eyes skimming me from top to bottom. My skin turned hot, a mix of emotions making me react in different ways. I nod, slowly taking my clothes off. Smiling to myself when I see Max brush a hand against the bulge in his suit. 

Once my panties and bra lay on the floor Max finally comes back. Hands gliding down my arms and then intertwining with my fingers. He guides each of my arms above my head, giving him full access to my body. Making me more vulnerable than I’ve ever been. 

The pads of his thumbs barely touch my nipples, forcing a whine out of my mouth and my chest to press into him. He pulls away immediately, draining his contact from me. And then he comes again, sliding his fingers over my nipples and I have to force myself to stay still.

Max’s fingers tickle down my bare body, he goes between my cleavage and caresses my breasts with the light touch of his finger tips. Soon going over my stomach and my lower abdomen. He delays the contact to my core and starts tracing my hip bones with each hand, slipping to my backside as he cups my ass with his hands.

“Fuck.” He mutters. Moving his hands from my backside to start lightly touching my thighs. Max advances to the inside of my thighs, spreading my legs a little wider, making it easier for his eyes and fingers. My lips parted long ago and breathing became uneven. Suspense ran through my veins as I felt the heat from his fingers approach my core. 

I was certain my arousal was close to dripping on his fingers, and then he finally touched me. Not as firm as I wanted, but his fingers still make contact. Teasing my clit as his eyes are on me, watching as my bottom lip is drawn between my teeth. 

The feeling was so new to me, I had never been touched by a man like this. Do I regret it, not really, because that would mean Max wouldn’t be the first. 

A loud moan rips the silence of the room, the filthy sound leaving my mouth. His middle finger runs between my folds and I flinch at the feeling, letting the moan leave my mouth freely watching as Max smiles. 

My climax surely builds up from his teasing strokes.

I then lose the feeling of his fingers, a cry leaving my mouth. “Be my good girl and show me how you make yourself cum.”

“I thought you were gonna make me a good girl. But I guess you’re not as good as I thought.” I slide my hand down my body, going down the trail between my legs. My eyes firm on Max as many emotions run across his face. I touch my clit and be sure to moan louder and longer than when Max touched me. My eyes were closed that I didn’t see as Max made his way closer, but his loud steps were enough. 

My hand his forces off my body and held above my head. Max’s other hand now occupying the job he told me to do myself. He doesn’t take his time now. Thrusting two digits inside of me with force. “I’ll make you cum. Give me a number.”

“Three.” I whine out between each of his thrusts, focusing on the harsh face he gives me.

“Fuck, making it so easy for me. I already made you cum once.” He chuckles at the confusion on my face. Pulling his fingers out of me and showing me my cum that moves down them. I moan at the sight, then once again as he shoves them in his mouth. My eyes stuck on his tongue as he circles each finger. When he pulls them out of his mouth a string of saliva is hanging from his fingertip. I watch as he brings his digits closer to my lips, telling me to open my mouth to get a taste of him. 

Max slides his fingers out of my mouth and drags it down my body. 

“Let’s do something new” Max says as he goes on his knees. Kneeling in front of me and making my pussy throb. He doesn’t say anymore words as he forces my legs on his shoulders. I clench my pussy as his breath brushes against it in such a way it’s a drug. 

The words slow, leisurely and gentle out of his mind as he starts eating me out. Like a starved man and I’m a whole dinner. The sensation of his flat tongue against such a sensitive part of me makes me crazy. My fingers diving into his perfect hair to ruin it. 

He toys with my clit and slides his tongue inside of me. 

It hadn’t taken long until I was reaching my release. Pulling at his hair with force and whining so loud I’m sure people outside could hear. But that only made it more thrilling. 

“So quick. But I’m not done.” Max says against my pussy before going back in. Bringing me to surprise. He licks and sucks all my cum, fingers coming back to ram inside of me as his tongue toys with my swollen clit. 

He made tears come to my eyes and a moan mixed with a whine to leave my mouth as I came another time. Even more sensitive.

Max helps me get off his shoulders before standing up to peel every piece of fabric off his body. Once my eyes laid on his skin I could truly say the suit doesn’t give him justice. 

My mouth watered at the sight of his cock. Making me question how easily he would fit. 

“Come here.” Max demands. And I do, walking up to him just for him to tell me to get on my knees. I grow nervous as his dick now sits in front of my face and as I’m about to grab it  Max tells me to do something completely different. 

“Go on your hands and knees. And face the mirror.” I quickly do it, seeing myself in the thin mirror. I look further up to observe Max. He grabs my hips, lifting them up so they're in line with his. 

I hold my breath as he brings his dick to my entrance. Circling it with his tip and watching me through the mirror. He distracts me with his signature smirk and then rams inside of me. Bottoming out immediately. My mouth opens in an ‘o’ shape as he takes my breath away with his dick. Pulling out and then thrusting back in with more power. His skin slapping against mine and tip viciously hitting my g-spot. 

Max leans forward and grabs my hair in a makeshift ponytail, forcing my head up. “I want you to watch as I fuck all the words out of your mouth.” 

My vision blurred by the tears, but I make out our figures. My tears fall as Max drives his dick into me once again. 

“That’s it. Cry over my dick. So. Fucking. Good.” He grits between his teeth at each thrust. I look at myself, being utterly ruined by a man I met a couple of days ago. He keeps my head up, not daring to let my eyes leave the mirror. His bottom lip is between his teeth and eyebrows furrowed as he keeps in his moans. Letting mine fill the room instead. 

I can barely hold up my body as I get closer to my climax. Clenching around Max multiple times before I finally release. 

A string of unholy sounds escape my mouth and it’s as if they set off Max, ultimately allowing me to hear him moan just as I had done before. 

Max twitches inside of me before he releases. Swearing in dutch before calling me a good fucking girl. His cum fills and distracts me as he pulls out. Demanding me to stay there.

I expect to see him walk out with a cloth, but instead his phone. He angles the camera right behind me, capturing his cum that drips out of me and both our faces in the mirror.

My face holds confusion and he sees it, keeping a straight face.

“People usually have photos of their gods, something to look at when they worship it. And this is mine.”

[dumplingsjinson]

List of random dialogue prompts (pt. 3)

“Truth be told? I miss the times — the me — before I fell in love with you.” 

“You know, I can see myself in, on top of, or under you. What do you say?” “I can see you buried six feet under my very feet if you don’t stop joking about this shit with me.” 

“Was there a point when you fell out of love with me?” “There was a point when I fell in love with you, but never out.”

“When did you fall out of love with me?” “That’s the thing: I never fell out of love with you. You’re the one who fell out of love with me.”

“Right person, wrong time… What if this is the right time? We’re just the wrong people for each other.”

“You have me wrapped around your fingers. Crazy part is, I don’t mind it.” 

“Don’t forget this: I made you. I can easily break you if I wanted to.” 

“I shared pieces of me, with so many people, and none of them kept those pieces safe, and I don’t know if I can risk that with you because it would devastate me if you turn out to be the same as them all. I would be completely destroyed.” 

“Don’t give me that look.”

“You okay?” “No. I need hugs. From you. I need you to hug me.” 

“I just wanna fucking get over you so I can be okay again.” 

“Stop trying to remind me that you’re still in my life. I’m trying to not think about you, for God’s sake.”

“I wanna kiss you so badly right now but we’re in public and I know you hate public display of affection—“ “I’ll allow you to do it this time.” “Wait… Really?” 

“I make shitty decisions and you’re a testament to that matter.”

“I have things to do, and most of them include me trying not to think about you.”

“I’ve never cried because of someone, you know? I didn’t have anyone to cry over. You’re the first, and you’ll also be the last, or so God help me through this embarrassment.” 

“Breaking up with me does not mean you had to kick me off your Spotify playlist, you know? Because damn. As much as I’m upset, your list had some bangers.” 

“You don’t get to do decide my feelings for you.” 

“I’m not bitchless, you fucking dickhead. Take that back!” 

“Every little thing reminds me of you, which sucks because you’re not in my life anymore.”

“It’s kinda weird not seeing your name on my phone when I wake up. It’s gonna take me some time to get used to this.”

“I think I knew this wasn’t going to last when I realised it’s not that I trust you. It’s that I don’t care what you do, and who you might be fucking around with.”

“One text from you has me happier than a child whose mother bought them their favourite candy. It’s not okay.” 

“I don’t share my Spotify playlist with just anyone. It’s like a secret love language of mine, reserved for those I want to let in. You’re one of them, yet you’re here thinking I don’t feel the same way about you?”

“I dunno, I just… Kinda fell for you.”

“You’re the reason why I fell in love with you. You, as a whole.” 

“There are some songs that I can’t listen to anymore, because they remind me of you; of all the times we’ve had together. And it sucks because some of them are great songs. And you fucking ruined them, you asshole.”

“I’m tired of acting like I don’t care, because I do. I fucking do, and that’s what makes this even worse.” 

“One thing you should know about me is that I suck at letting go.”

“So you’re telling me I’m supposed to sit here and give a fuck? You couldn’t pay me enough to do that. I have places to be and things to do.” 

“You need to stop being such a dramatic bitch.” “It’s the only way I can entertain myself, okay? Now piss off and leave me be.” 

“Maybe I shouldn’t have let you go.”

“You deserve someone better than me—” “You don’t get to decide that for me.”

“You ever think about how good we could have been together?” “Yeah. I think about it all the time, and then I remember how badly you fumbled. So yeah, good job.”

“You’re blushing.” “I’m not.” “…Then I guess I’ll have to give you something to blush over.”

“I lost myself while trying to find the good in you.”

“I think it’s comforting that they’re somewhere out there… Even if we never speak again, you know? They were a part of my life, even if it was only for a little while. They made me feel good, even if it was only for a short amount of time.” 

“Remember when you said you’d catch me when I fell? Well, you’re a fucking liar. Figuratively and literally. Now I’m hospitalised and also emotionally scarred. I hope you’re fucking happy about that.” 

“If we break up, I’d look for you in other people and be reminded that they are not you, and that I’d never find someone like you again. And… I don’t think I can bear the thought of that.”

“I give you permission to break my heart.” “And I give you permission to end me if I ever do break your heart.” 

“I have things to do—“ “And I’m one of them.”

“You’re only saying sorry because you want to make yourself feel better, so you can go shove that sweet apology up your ass because it doesn’t mean shit. I hope you continue to feel like shit over what you did, because I’m never forgiving you.”

“I had expectations for someone I knew couldn’t meet those expectations, so that’s my fault for expecting anything from you at all.”

“You? Breaking my heart? It’s funny how you think you even have that power over me.”

“You were like a routine that I loved and it felt… comfortable. But I guess that’s not the case anymore.” 

“You fell in love with the idea of someone that wasn’t even real. You fell in love with your own projections. How are you so foolish to think that it would have worked out?”

“I’m fine. Of course I’m fine.” “Everything about this interaction is telling me you’re not fine — not even close.”

“The idea of us was perfect. Blame me for thinking it would turn out into something good and as fantastical as what I made it out to be in my head.”

“Because no matter what I do, I can’t stop thinking about you and it’s about to drive me to the very brink of insanity, so if you’ll excuse me for not wanting to be near you, that would great.”

“I would not be who I am today if not for you.” 

(pt 1.) | (pt. 2)

[imtryingbuck]

Clingy

~ gif not mine credit to owner ~

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Summary: Bucky overhears his girlfriend calling him clingy

Word count: 1243

Warnings: sad Bucky and swearing

A/N: whilst editing this I realised that Alpines a girl but just for the sake of this story we’re going to pretend she’s a boy🙃

Masterlist

Bucky had a massive smile planted on his face as he left the bedroom he shares with his girlfriend and cat; he was so proud of himself for finally mastering online shopping - he just ordered a huge cat tree for Alpine. To others it wouldn’t have been important but for him it was an accomplishment he was excited to share with his girl.

With a little bounce in his step, he was about to turn the corner to where the common room was when he comes to a stop.

“-I’m telling you Nat it’s annoying” he smiles at the voice that has soothed him to sleep more times than one “he’s so clingy, always wanting to lay on me, always following me around, trying to kiss me whilst I’m eating! It’s like he always needs to be touching me at every given moment, God he’s so needy” his heart breaks not only at the words but at how frustrated she sounds. He really didn’t mean to be clingy and needy, there was no doubt in his or anyone’s minds that he was in love with her, everyone always mocked about how he was her shadow, but he didn’t care. Being her shadow was his way of showing her that he loves her and that he was always going to be there, that no one was ever going to hurt her. 

Not having the heart to hear the rest he turns around and walk back to their shared room, determination running through his veins he was going to change. He didn’t want to lose her. The last thing he hears is Natasha laughing.

“Y/N he’s a cat! He loves you” Natasha chuckles.

“Yeah but still… it’s annoying. Because the worst part is that he only does it when Bucky isn’t there” Nat tries really hard not to laugh at the pout on the other woman’s face. It doesn’t take long for both burst out laughing.

~~~

Throughout the week Y/n notices something wrong with Bucky, it wasn’t normal for him to be out of bed before her - not anymore at least - he didn’t want to cuddle up with her anymore, the kisses were quick. It was hurting her; she was missing him even though he was close by. It wasn’t just her that noticed Bucky’s strange behaviour.

“What’s going on with you and Mr grumpy pants?” Sam asks as he hands her a fresh cup of tea.

“I don’t know Sammy, he’s been distant this past week and I don’t know what I’ve done”

“Have you guys argued?”

“No” taking careful sips of the hot beverage “the last time we argued was when I took that bullet for him and that was like what three months ago? We only argued for about an hour before we made up.”

“Wait… seriously that was the last time you argued?”

“Yep, we don’t argue about anything. Yes, we have disagreements about everything and anything, but it never leads to us fighting. But we also come to a mutual agreement on whatever we’re disagreeing with.”

“Okay okay” he puts on his concentration face on as she always puts it “have you took any bullets for him recently?” chuckling when he receives a deadpan look.

“No Sam I haven’t taken any bullets for him recently” rolling her eyes as she sets the now empty cup down “I honestly don’t know what I’ve done, I miss him.”

Standing up and placing a kiss to her temple “Go and talk to him, it’s breaking my heart seeing you both sad and mopey.”

“I will, thanks Falc”

Instead of going to find Bucky she grabbed her coat and bag and headed down to the garage, once she was inside her car she drove to the store.

The bed was covered in all different kind of snacks and drinks, her plan was to sit him down and talk then they’ll spend the rest of the night in bed watching movies and filling their faces. Making her way out of the room she went to track down her boyfriend - finding him in the gym.

“Hi bubba, can you finish up here and come with me” instantly not liking how her voice sounds.

“Um okay just give me a minute.”

“Of course.”

“Im done, where we going.?” Bucky’s right hand twitches to reach out to hold hers but all he does is shoves it in his pocket.

“Back to our room. We need to talk Buck”

He was prepared to drop to his knees and beg for her not to break up with him, promises on the tip of his tongue that he’d change and be better. Before he could utter a word, they had arrived at their room. The door was closed softly behind them whilst his head was bowed downwards finding his shoes more interesting. 

“Buck I don’t know what I’ve done wrong but I’m sorry I don-“

“I heard you”

“What?”

“I heard you talking to Nat about me being clingy and needy and annoying and I’m trying baby really I am. I gave you space, Im keeping distant because I love you and I don’t want you to break up with me an-“ 

“Bucky breath! Here sit down, focus on your breathing bubba” Moving him to sit on the sofa that was in their room, she knelt down in front of him going through his breathing exercises.

It took nearly 10 minutes for him to get his breathing under control, leaving him feeling more ashamed as always after he had a panic attack “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry” he manages to rasp out.

“I’ll tell you what I always tell you when you have panic attacks - don’t apologise. It’s okay bubba I promise, I’ve got you” taking his hands into hers so rubs her thumbs over his flesh and metal knuckles “I wasn’t talking about you that day Buck, I was talking about Alpine. He followed me and Nat into the common room and Nat made a comment, I was talking about how he only wants me when you’re not around. Oh bubba you actually thought I was talking about you?” Taking one of her hands from his she wipes the stray tear that rolls down his cheek as he nods “Bucky I love it when you’re all over me, I love knowing that I’m never alone because your always there. I have never once thought you was clingy not once! I love you Buck and I love the attention you give me and affection you show me. Please bubba understand that”

“I love you too” bringing up her hand in his metal one “I’m sorry for overreacting baby I should of spoken to you”

“Give me a kiss and all is forgiven” she grins cheekily.

He pulls her on to his lap and kisses her, both sighs contentedly as they share their first kiss in a week little pants of air leaves their lips once they detach from one another.

“I brought snacks and drinks so how about me and you get into bed watch movies, eat, cuddle and maybe some other activities?” She says with a suggestive tone with one eyebrow raised.

Bucky chuckles when a squeal interrupts him standing up.

The third film has finished, not like they were watching - to busy doing other activities - they lay tangled with one another. 

“I brought Alpine a new cat tree off the Amazon.”

~ banners credit goes to @sweetpeapod ~

[garoujo]

hiiiii !!! what are your thoughts on reader bumping into ex!gojo at a party, after not having seen him for years? his unboxing has taken a toll on me i’m patiently waiting for anyone to write fics for him 🤸🏻‍♀️

✩ ˛˚ . GOJO SATORU — you don’t realise how much your heart still calls for your ex until you see him again, years later.

ஜ ˖ ࣪࿐ྂ contents! sort of angsty but mostly fluff! ex!boyfie gojo, ex’s to lovers sort of vibe, very much right person wrong time ♡ ˖ ࣪࿐ྂ note! i’m so sorry this took me so long to get to nonnie, i’m also sorry this turned out sad snifle! i wrote it to this song so i blame that! i’m sorry i just had to post for him tonite!

maybe you should’ve just stayed at home, you think despite the way you know you don’t mean it, as you let the drink in your hand swirl around it’s cup a few more minutes longer. it’s lost its bubbles slightly, it’s leaning more towards an hour old— still untouched as you lean yourself against the kitchen counter while your friends catch up around you.

it’s been a while since you’ve seen everyone like this, a few years atleast you’d assume and it was fun, recalling back the memories— the drunken nights and the time you spent together, the seasons you experienced. there’s a sentimental sort of feeling to it all, you realise.

everyone’s different now, not only in looks— in spirit maybe, married and settled down, running their own business or jet setting abroad. your childhood bestfriend is taller, she smiles softer now— maybe it’s the ring on her finger or the love in her life. it suits her.

“hey! you still with us?” she calls to you, just as you hear the apartment door close again— alerting you to more guests despite the way there’s probably around fifteen of you here already. you jolt slightly, sending her a smile before you’re placing down your glass and excusing yourself to the bathroom.

you allow yourself a few breaths to relax before you smile at yourself in the mirror, it’s nice being able to see everyone again— not realising how much you’d missed them and suddenly you realise that you’re so happy to have lived.

you pat yourself on the cheeks as you give yourself a silent little nod, soft sort of smile in place as you push your way through the bathroom door again— maybe a little too determined to seize the night when you send yourself into a hard chest as you clumsily leave the room.

“ah! sorry, are you okay?” you begin as you try to steady yourself but there’s hands there to keep you from falling before you even realise you’re on your way down.

“oh? it’s been so long you’re jumping into my arms already?” familiar, you think as the teasing response sounds smoothly and you can’t help the way your body seems to stiffen at the sound— like instinct. you look up and there’s a warm sort of squeeze on your heart at the crystalline gaze that looks back, cheeky grin in place.

you should’ve expected to see him here after all, gojo satoru had always been a constant in your past, up until a few years ago. he was your now ex-boyfriend after all.

he always had this air that seemed to follow him around — this noble sort of presence but he was even more handsome now, unfortunately. he’d grown a little more in height but he filled it out better now. his hair is longer but his gaze is just as pretty, as breathtaking when it meets yours.

you’re pretty sure if this were a movie there’d be a trail of women at gojo’s feet — back of their hand against their forehead and fawning for his attention.

you can still recall the nights you cried on your kitchen floor for him.

“hey, after all these years, you’re getting shy on me?” you didn’t realise you’d zoned out until you blink up to see gojo looking at you, teasing tone and his long fingers flicking gently at your forehead until you’re sending him a cute frown. he remembers that look all too well.

“no, shutup! i just didnt expect to see you.” you fall back into the dynamic quickly, like he’d never left— both of you parted ways gradually you think. it’s not that the love wasn’t there, but you just felt like your life had taken you down separate paths.

gojo satoru was your right person, wrong time is what you’d tell strangers at parties.

“are you sure? it seems you had an attack planned for my arrival, pretty suspicious i’d say.” he goads, teasing you again and you roll your eyes before you’re shoving playfully at his chest.

“you’re still so annoying.”

“hm? are you just embarrassed i figured you out? did you really think you could catch me off guard with a move like that?” you wish you could say you hate gojo, truly. but it’s been years and instead you realise that it’s quite the opposite, because he’s already got you laughing like you’re both teenagers again.

sometimes you wish you’d known him sooner, even just so you could love him longer than you can now.

“yeah right, i could totally beat you if i tried.” you laugh again, teasing as a cheeky grin settles on your expression and gojo squeezes at your shoulder playfully before you’re both finding yourself returning to the group. but the laughter doesn’t falter.

“you want a beer, satoru?” your friend asks as you both enter the lounge and you cast the snowy haired man to your right a glance before he answers. he won’t take one, he never was a drinker.

“nah, aren’t i fun enough already? it wouldn’t be fair.” he jokes, you all laugh. like old times.

the night continues and you catch yourself looking in your ex boyfriends.. in gojo’s direction a little more frequently than you’d like to admit. but you’re having fun, you realise as you all exchange jokes— even going as far as to pull up videos from your old phones, little vlogs from your days at the beach, shopping trips and more.

you breathe again, nestling back into your place on the couch as the rest of your friends get up to dance to one of your old playlists from a few years ago. you remember it well, like the soundtrack to some coming of age movie.

you allow yourself to look at him once more, to take in the cut of his features— the way his lips still upturn at the corners when he grins and the way he still talks with his hands. you think it’s cute that he still wears his hair down, still doesn’t do the top button of his shirts— you wonder if he still takes four sugars in his coffee.

you feel something twist in your chest with the thought before you look away again. you think it’s embarrassing in a way, the way you’re wanting must show when you look at him. maybe it’s because you already know the feel of his hand on yours or the soft voice he’d always use to call you out of sleep, the taste of his coffee on his lips when he’d kiss you as the sun woke up.

you liked the now, but then you remember how gojo satoru loved you and it’s like you’re aching all over again.

you breathe deep before the couch cushion to your left sinks as someone sits down and you know it’s him when it grounds you.

“you’re not dancing, gojo?” you begin before he can say anything, giggle despite the turmoil in your mind, your heart, and he sends you a soft sort of look before he chuckles.

“oh no, after all those times you told me i was a terrible dancer? it broke my heart so much, i’ll never dance again.” still a drama queen, you think to yourself as you watch him press his palm to his chest — throwing his head back against the back of the couch as he sighs.

“yeah right, you had a great dance partner to level you out back then though.” gojo laughs at that one, nudging his thigh into yours slightly when he does, but neither of you seem to pull away at the touch.

he settles down and you let the silence hang in the space where you both take a breath before he speaks again,

“satoru is fine, you know. i was always satoru to you, no?” gojo questions gently, although still trying to make it more lighthearted than awkward, and you feel the tension leave your shoulders when you exhale.

“okay then, satoru.” comes more naturally than you’d like to admit, but you’re not ashamed of it either when you notice the soft sort of glow in gojo’s eyes when you speak it with fondness.

he looks at you, nods like he’s smug, then pushes himself up to stand. emphasising how tall he is as he sends you a cheeky sort of grin, followed by his arm outstretching to offer you his hand.

“well oh great dance partner, i may need your expertise. you wouldn’t want me to embarrass my handsome self infront of all our old friends, would you?” gojo whines playfully as he bows towards you, free hand on his heart like he’s begging you for his life.. just his pride this time though.

“‘toru..” you begin, a soft sort of breathe and you wonder if he can hear the hope in it— your own hand twitching by your side.

“come on, for old times sake. you said it yourself, i cant dance without my partner there to lead me, right?” gojo satoru had always been terribly convincing, you realise as you recall all the other moments he’d whisked you off into other great things. memories that you still look fondly back on now.

“fine, for old times sake, satoru.” you finally answer before your hand is resting on his, noticing that is palm still feels warm when he pulls you to your feet.

for the love that once was, and the love that remains. 

© 2023 GAROUJO. please do not copy any of my layouts or writing and translate or repost onto any other sites.