#but you have to wonder if she ever paused to think about the long term consequences to InuYasha

[gravid-transluna]

In the Name of Science

words: 7627

content: birth denial, clothing birth, mutual birth, fpreg

Co-written with the wonderful and endlessly imaginative @shhhsecretsideblog

First entry into the Spell-verse, a series of stories revolving around a town blanketed by a rapid pregnancy and birth spell.

The news already had coined a name for it. Go figure, Char thought, shaking her head at the display of pure pseudoscience on the screen before her.

“Yes, that’s right,” a reporter spoke. “Emergency services have taken a census and The Spell seems to have affected every person able to bear children in the town.”

“The Spell,” Char scoffed, shaking her head. “Call it a virus, a fluke of biology, whatever. Just don’t chalk it up to magic.”

Because if it was magic, that would mean her science would be ineffectual on the obvious life growing inside her belly, now looking full-term with a baby that she hadn’t been pregnant with this morning. It rippled, hanging low between the scientist’s thighs. She placed a palm on her stretched tummy. The evidence, she thought, speaks for itself.

“Shouting at the tele again Char?” Laura said as she waddled into their lab. Her long white coat hung open at her sides, her own newly formed bump making the coat too small to fit round her frame.

“Got you a coffee.” She passed the hot drink to her boss and went over to sit on the stool by her own workstation. It took a bit of navigating, still not used to this extra weight she now carried, but eventually she plumped herself on the high metal chair.

“I mean, they aren’t wrong calling it ‘The Spell.’ What’s happening here is unheard of. All these pregnancies are popping up very much like magic.” Laura rubbed the circumference of her large belly that now sat heavily atop her thighs. She could feel the baby moving inside, it was so strange. Pregnancy and birth was never something she thought she’d experience. She understood it, she knew all about the process, but it was something else entirely actually experiencing it. And going through it all within the space of a day was a bit of a rollercoaster.

They’d done scans and knew they were carrying human babies, it wasn’t anything supernatural or alien, but it was just the speed, it was unprecedented. The baby in her womb shifted and kicked her in the ribs “Oof!” She huffed. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to this.” Laura commented to her boss.

Char nodded, smothering the instinct to cup her own belly as devoted her attention back to her work.

“Hopefully, you won’t have to. We’ll find a way to reverse the process without delivery and things will—“ she paused, startled by a twinge in her stomach muscles and the subsequent squirming of the baby inside her. She cleared her throat. “Things will return to normal and we can take the time to research this phenomenon thoroughly.”

Secretly, Char’s urgency stemmed from another reason—already she’d struggled to adapt to the feeling of her body so unrecognizably changed, the idea of a passenger inside her, her body growing and stretching to accommodate it without any of her say in it. Even the tiniest signs of motherhood she steadfastly resisted, trying not to waddle or hold her heavy mound, wearing her usual lab wear instead of anything more comfortable. Yet—

She knew this was nothing compared to birth. She also knew that they were on a strict time limit. Shaking her head, she dispelled these thoughts. ‘We don’t have to worry about that. All we have to worry about is finding a cure,’ she thought.

“You really think we can find a cure before these babies are born?” Laura asked hesitantly. She knew how her boss was handling this sudden change in their bodies, and it wasn’t very well. Not that she’d admit it. She disappeared quickly into the work when it first started happening to people and completely ignored the signs this morning that it was happening to them both as well.

“I’ve heard that some people are already starting to give birth… we might not have the time. Not before these ones are born anyway.” Laura patted her bump affectionately. She wasn’t fighting this as much as her boss. Yes it was a shock, but Laura was leaning into the experience, it was fascinating.

She noticed her belly start to twinge, felt similar to period pains. Laura shifted in her chair, trying to ease the uncomfortable feeling, her legs widening on the stool to fit her rounded stomach in between. “Have you had any twinges or cramps or anything?” Laura asked.

Char glanced at Laura, absorbing the gravity of her condition, the way her midsection protruded from her open lab coat and her discomfort that so mirrored Char’s own. “Nope,” she lied easily, convincing herself that it was the weight she was now carrying, that the pressure in her hips and the aching of her back was all because of the new load in her belly.

“Well, I’m not exactly hasty to get these babies out the old-fashioned way,” Char said.

A part of her shared sentiments with Laura, though. Call it a scientific curiosity, but the process of birth was quite a marvel. Another cramp seized her belly and she stiffened slightly, bearing it without note. Her own belly hung low, having dropped without her realizing, but Laura’s taut, overhanging swell was immediately apparent to her.

How about you?” She asked while peering into a microscope.

“I’m not sure… I’m feeling something… oof—” Laura took a sharp breath as the ache peaked before easing off again. “It’s probably just my body adjusting to the quick pregnancy. I’m not in a hurry to give birth myself.”

She didn’t want to say it but the rate at which their stomachs had swelled, Laura didn’t think they would have long before the pangs of labor hit. It was difficult to ascertain how “far along” they were, given the speed in the growth, but judging by the bumps alone Laura guessed her and Char were developing at the same rate.

“We better work fast then, before either of us goes into labor.” Or both of us, Laura thought to herself.

Char pressed her lips together at the reminder, and without knowing she palmed the underside of her swollen stomach, attempting to soothe the tightened muscles.

“Yes, right. Could you come over here and we can analyze these lab reports together. Bring the files from the corner bench, please.”

Her back ached, yet she was too restless to sit and besides, she always worked while standing. She’d be damned if she let this baby inside of her intrude on her routine.

“Sure thing.” Laura said to Char’s instruction. Holding her taut stomach, Laura slipped off the stool onto her feet and waddled over to the corner bench to pick up the files.

Standing seemed to have jolted her baby, feeling the weight sink lower into her hips as it kicked. A sudden sharp tightening slashed across her belly causing her to gasp and grab on to the table. “Mnngh!” She groaned as the muscles pulled and squeezed, its intensity surprising.

“Char… hooo… I think I might be having a con-contraction…” Laura panted through the pain, hips instinctively swaying beneath the white lab coat.

Char snapped her head up from the microscope to see Laura doubled over, clutching the table. With her back flat, her weighty belly seemed to strain toward the ground, dragged downward by gravity. Char watched as Laura swayed her hips in an almost hypnotic pattern, as though instinct had taken over. Her panting, even, seemed instinctual, the sounds of an imminent mother.

“Laura? Hey—“ Char struggled to walk without a waddle, across the room to Laura. She was stopped by a squeezing in her tummy that took her breath away, the entire surface hardening painfully. She dismissed it before it even ended. ‘Braxton Hicks,’ she thought. ‘No big deal. I have time…. Laura, I’m not so sure.’

She placed a palm on Laura’s lower back and she breathed and swayed. “You’re okay,” she said, her usual brisk tone softening. “Just breathe.”

“Hoooo-hoooo…..” Laura forced herself to take measured breaths, in and out, breathing through the sudden pain. Her head dipped and her eyes scrunched, the weight and pressure suddenly peaking before gradually fading away. Slowly the assistant straightened back up and faced her friend (?) and boss.

“Jeeze, that was… intense.” She breathed, rubbing the underside of her belly. “I wasn’t expecting that to come on so fast. Guess I’m in labor. I’ll start running a log of all my symptoms so we can add to our research.” She picked up the earlier requested files and handed them to her boss, noticing a slight glistening of sweat on Char’s forehead. “You still doing okay?”

Char nodded, appearing uncharacteristically distracted. She made an effort to straighten her back, feeling the clamping around her womb subside for now.

“Fine,” she said. Then, appreciative of Laura’s dedication to their studies, “Good work, Laura. If it gets to be too much for you, let me know. Until then, we’ll work around the clock and develop a cure before you progress too far.”

And, before I do as well, Char added to herself.

Noting Laura’s significantly widened stance and the way she stroked and circled her dropped belly, Char felt a twinge of apprehensiveness.

As they worked, fighting the clock, Char listened to Laura’s pained breaths become sharper. Eventually she began to vocalize, softly at first, closing her eyes and rocking her body back and forth, making slight grunts and moaning under her breath.

Char wasn’t in a much better state. Her contractions had grown into strong, regular surges and every time her belly seized up she could only focus on it and the baby inside it preparing to be born. Born, she thought. Not if I can help it. Her familiarity with the process and inevitability of birth did nothing to halt this line of thinking. Yet with each contraction she felt like nothing else existed but her swollen, contracting belly. She released a breath after a particularly brutal one. There was so much pressure. She felt it deep in her hips, wanting so badly to open herself up all the way.

Laura let out a pained groan herself, and Char glanced up.

“H-how are you, mm, holding up?” She asked the other laboring woman.

“As w-well as can be expected… hoooo…” Laura held her heavy belly with one hand, the other leant on her workstation as she swayed through the pain. “They are really picking up now Char, oof, the pressure is a lot.”

The lab assistant had abandoned her chair a while ago, finding the most comfortable position was to stand at her desk as it allowed her to follow her body’s rhythm and its instinct to move. Plus the baby was sinking way too low to be sitting down on that ridiculous high stool. She had spent entire days on that chair working before The Spell, but that idea seemed downright ludicrous to Laura now.

Their research seemed to be slow moving, and it wasn’t entirely down to the fact she was in labor, the science just wasn’t providing them with answers, still proving to be a mystery. She’d been keeping track of her contractions, which were getting dangerously closer together and time was running out.

Whilst the waves of pain coursing through her body every five minutes were consuming, Laura wasn’t oblivious to the fact her boss was also struggling. Perhaps it was because of her own labor she could recognise the signs; the way Char kept moving around the lab and never stayed still, her heavy breathing and occasional moan, and the way her hips would shift and bounce when she thought Laura wasn’t looking. Yup, her boss was almost certainly in labor too. But Laura knew better than to ask her outright.

“Are you feeling okay Char? You’ve been on your feet for quite a w-while now..”

Char tried to imagine sitting and found she couldn’t, with the baby dropped so low, the head pressing heavily on her cervix. She knew from the strain in Laura’s voice and her repeated movements around the room that she was feeling the same pressure and slowly increasing urgency. She wanted to moan, openly sway and rotate her hips against the excruciating pressure, to release instinctual grunts with her contractions like Laura. But, not yet. She couldn’t be in active labor.

“Just frustrated,” Char growled. “We’ve barely made progress and this current batch of tests has yielded no results whatsoever…. mmgh!” She winced, closing her mouth so as not to cry out as a contraction clamped her midsection.

“Also,” she added. “I might—urgh, be experiencing some Braxton Hicks.”

“Oh… braxton hicks… okay.” Laura acknowledged calmly, knowing full well there was nothing false about the pains plaguing Char. “Just try and b-breathe through them. They’ll soon pass. You can move around you know, follow your body’s instincts if you need to, I’m sure it would help with the, errr—false labor pains.”

They continued working in relative silence, except from the unusual noises Laura found herself making through the pains. She thought she heard her boss whimper, and asked “Is there anything I can do to h-help?”

Not that she was capable of doing much, the pains were so strong now she could barely do anything other than catch her breath between waves. Laura stayed close to her work bench, not daring to move too far for fear she’d crumble to the floor. Her bump hung heavy and low off her hips, her baby was pressing hard against her cervix clearly marking its exit. A particularly forceful contract had Laura folded over against the bench, forearms on the white surface, hips jutting back, and her head buried in the crook of her elbow. Her groans had turned more primal, the pressure building to the point she almost mooed like a cow. Something was slipping down, she could feel it. With a grunt Laura felt something give and the immediate dampness that followed trailing down her leg.

“Ummm… Char? Hoooo… I think my water broke.” Laura whimpered into her arm, not daring to move.

Char turned when she heard Laura’s animalistic groans and grunts, undeniably the noises of a woman deep in labor. She saw Laura standing wide-legged, a wet patch forming on her lab trousers and puddling the floor beneath her. Her cheeks were flushed with exertion, and Char knew she was feeling the same pressure against her widening cervix as herself, increasingly overcome with the sensation of the head moving into position, the instinctive need to open herself up for the baby getting ready to come out of her.

“Laura—! Hooo um, okay,” Char faltered, taking large waddling steps to Laura and cursing the weight in her pelvis and the unwieldiness of her belly. .Normally in control of the situation, she felt lost at the sight of Laura’s waters puddled on the floor. This was an uncontrollable variable. No matter how much they wanted to keep their babies in, once their bodies decided it was time there was little they could do. But Char wasn’t ready to give in yet.

“I’ll, mmgh, find you some towels,” she promised Laura.

In the hallway she suffered another contraction, and found herself vocalizing freely without Laura around, lowing insistently and arching her back. Without knowing, her knees bent slightly, beginning to sink into a squat. She realized what she was doing and tried to hold herself upright against the hallway wall, but by then the contraction was upon her and she felt a sudden burst of fluid from between her legs.

“Oh…. shit,” she murmured, panting hard.

When she returned with the towels, she met Laura’s gaze and knew that they were both feeling the urgency of birth. They were almost out of time.

The contraction had waned when Char left the room and Laura slowly righted herself and breathed quietly, taking stock of the situation, letting her body adjust and working with the new sensations. The baby was definitely on its way, there was no doubt about that. The breaking of her waters had helped ease the excruciating pressure which had been building, but Laura became more keenly aware of the shape of the baby in her womb without its cushioning.

Taking deep and steady breaths, Laura tried to calm her mind and body. It was during this almost meditative state that she heard the unmissable sound of a woman in deep labor from the corridor. She knew exactly who it was.

Char was a very methodical woman, set in her ways, but she was strong and determined which was a necessity in this field of work. Laura respected her immensely. But it was no surprise to the assistant that her boss was fighting this and seemingly was fighting it to the very end. At some point Char would admit she was in labor, she would have to if she was going to birth her baby. Laura just hoped she would be able to help Char through it when the time comes, and not be consumed by her own birth.

When Char came back she was flushed and sweaty, but gritted a smile as she passed Laura a towel. Laura noticed her boss kept one for herself… strange.

Laura threw the towel on the floor and used her foot to wipe the liquid that was now puddled at her feet. Her trousers were wet but she didn’t want to take them off, she might have known Char for years but wasn’t quite ready to be walking around half naked in front of her boss.

“This baby is definitely coming, I can feel its head right down in my pelvis.” Laura announced, cupping the underside of her large swell almost trying to hold it up. “How are you holding up Char through your… practice contractions?”

Even without her announcing it, Char could tell how close Laura was to birthing her baby, her stance and dropped belly unmistakable as signs of her imminent birth. Laura, she knew, was dependable, and though Char would rarely admit it, she relied on Laura and her stability and her easier personality tended to balance Char’s own stubbornness. Her patience was beginning to wear Char down, and she almost admitted then. The head was huge against her dilated cervix, and she could feel it oriented, ready to descend. Everything was moving painfully downwards. She could no longer even pinch her knees together, so wide was her gait. It felt as if the baby would drop out of her if she spread too wide.

“I-I think I’m, I’m in—“ Char was cut off by another contraction, doubling over with an urgent grunt, so unlike her normally composed and cool attitude. “Ohhhh,” she moaned, closing her eyes. She gritted her teeth, eyes squeezed shut as the contraction began to peak and she clutched blindly at her rigid, taut belly.

“Oh Char…” Laura said, waddling over to her boss, keeping one hand on a bench for support. “I think you’re in labor, hun.”

Char was completely doubled over, clutching her large and heavy belly, and grunting wildly. There was no way she could keep denying her situation now surely. Laura put a hand on Char’s back and rubbed up and down her spine in support. “It’s okay, just breathe through the contraction. Slowly, don’t panic, in and o-outttt…”

Laura was cut off by a contraction of her own, and without her waters it was aggressive and forceful. She immediately spun around, grabbing the nearest bench, and groaned deeply as she fell into a slight squat. The baby was slamming against her cervix, squeezing its way into her birth canal, and Laura had no choice but to push with the force of the contraction.

She tried not to panic, to stay calm, but the head filling her canal was almost making her nauseous. She wanted to tell Char but couldn’t speak, not that her boss could do anything as she was dealing with a contraction of her own right now. The only option left was to ride the wave, and follow her instincts.

Over the din of her own uncontrollable noises Char could hear Laura’s straining groans as she bore down fiercely, primal with the urgency of a birthing mother. Char tried to change her posture but the feeling of the baby descending, pressing down forcefully against her cervix was too much for her to bear standing, and she clasped her hands on her thighs as she squatted, desperate for relief. The contraction peaked, and though she tried to control her breathing, sucking in air at first, by the ends of her breaths she found herself grunting slightly. She gave a gasp, realizing that she was pushing. No! No, no! She thought desperately. You’re a scientist. This is your lab, and you have control. Try as she might, it was impossible to assert control over her laboring body. Her baby was coming, and she was pushing. Still, she tried to resist the urge to push, panting and blowing as the pressure grew and her back flared with pain.

Laura’s contraction seemed to subside a little before Char’s, and Char saw her belly visibly heave as her uterine muscles relaxed. She let out a grunt as the contraction released her. They made eye contact as Char’s contraction began to fade as well. Char shifted her gaze.

“We…. w-we,” she panted, trying to regain her breath. “We have to find this cure. Right now.”

“Char…. Even if we do find a c-cure… what do you t-think is going to happen?” Laura said sternly as she heaved herself back to standing. “These babies,” she patted her bump and also Char’s for effect, “are coming and no cure is going to make them disappear.”

Laura had seen the way Char literally squatted to the ground and pushed, and her clothes were also damp on her bottom half. “I’m saying this as both your friend and colleague, you are in labor just as much as I, and we should prepare for their arrival.”

Laura waddled awkwardly, bowlegged, back to her desk and grabbed a drink of water. Still panting after the latest contraction, she picked up a pen and carried on making notes. “I’ll help you as much as I can, noting everything down about this rapid pregnancy, tracking my symptoms and experience, but we’re going to be giving birth soon. Both of us.”

Char glared weakly as Laura patted her belly. She’d known Laura to be one of her only lab partners to actually stand up to her or challenge her, but even then she was firmly gentle. This was no different except of course so steeped in labor herself Laura had a bit more edge to her, biting just a little. She knew how Laura was feeling. Their babies were so low, pushing heavily into their canals and forcing their bodies to deliver, and she wanted nothing more to stop what she was doing right now, squat down, and let it come. Magic or science, Char and Laura were experiencing their most natural, primal instincts.

But—she couldn’t. She wouldn’t. No, this was HER body. An intruding passenger wouldn’t change that, even as it inched its way through her birth canal and demanded she work hard and concentrate on nothing but pushing it out. Char made a laborious effort to straighten somewhat, though her stance wasn’t much narrower than Laura’s own bowlegged waddle.

“Not, urgh, yet,” Char said. “I’m not having this baby. Mmm…. hoo, I’m grateful to you, Laura, for holding it together for this long. But you n-need to deliver. Please, don’t burden yourself. I’ll finish this cure on my—hmnh, hm. My own.”

She painstakingly toddled to her research table, lifting the hefty weight of her belly as though it would keep the baby from dropping any further.

“Okay, do whatever you wanna do Char.” Laura resigned herself to losing this argument. Her boss was determined but this was next level, bordering on complete denial. Well if Char was feeling even half the sensations Laura was, she’d succumb to this birth soon enough.

Laura needed to prepare for the imminent birth, her recent pushing was a sure sign the baby was close. Slowly, and whilst always holding on to something, the assistant rummaged through the drawers and cupboards in the lab. “Do we have anything we could use for clamps to cut the cord?” She asked aloud, not really expecting an answer from her disgruntled colleague. “Ah, this could work.”

She collected the equipment she’d need to clamp and cut the chord on her desk, and moved the towel on the floor with her feet again mopping up the new liquid that she’d trailed across the floor, not realizing she was still leaking. “I’m gonna go get some more towels.” Laura again spoke aloud but knew her boss had disappeared into her own world.

Laura barely made it to the doorway when another contraction struck, and damn they were close together. Her fingers gripped the wooden frame as her body sank downwards again, the pressure building and building between her legs. “Mnnnghhhhhhhh!!!” Laura grunted, muscles contracting and squeezing the large head further through the birth canal, to the point she could feel herself start to open slightly. “Nghhhhhhh the head…. I can feel it…” Laura mewled as she squatted.

Char listened to Laura’s preparations in the background, doing her best to tune out both Laura’s words and the feeling of a massive head lodged in her birth canal, stretching her from within. Her legs trembled, nearly buckled even without a contraction. She resented herself for pushing but knew from her last contraction that she wouldn’t be able to help from bearing down again. The urge to push, the pressure, it was blurring her vision, and her head pounded dizzyingly. A mantra repeated in her head: ‘Hold it in. Just hold it in a little longer.’ Her stomach felt like a hard stone weighing on her middle even without a contraction. She tried to focus, pulling herself into a chemical analysis of her own birthing fluids she’d swabbed from the towel.

Suddenly, she heard Laura’s loud grunting and her attention was drawn to the doorway to see her assistant bent and squatted, pushing hard into her trousers. She felt a tug of concern.

“Laura? Hun, you okay—?”

The head, she thought. Oh god, she’s still wearing her work trousers.

Before she could even take a single step towards Laura, she felt another contraction grip her. “Oooof,” she grunted deeply. Her knees began to give out and she was forced into a squat even as she tried to remain standing. Gripping the table for dear life, she groaned and growled. Don’t push, she thought. Don’t—

“Ohhhh.” The head shifted down. Her powerful internal muscles shoved it through. “OH—I’m—I-I’m pushinggggg, mmmmgh!”

Laura was consumed by the sensations thrumming through her entire body, it was as if something primal was happening to her - new and unfamiliar, completely out of her control, and yet her body seemed to know what to do. Her knees widened and she sunk deeper into the squat, opening her hips as much as she could. Leaning into the contraction, using it, Laura pushed the heavy weight down. It felt… productive. She knew it was what she should be doing.

The location wasn’t ideal, and she hoped she still had time to collect more towels and set up a more comfortable birthing area. But whilst the contraction raged, Laura submitted to it, letting it work her baby down, slipping further and further towards its exit.

Somewhere in the distance she heard her name being called. After a long push Laura gulped a breath and turned her head to see Char squatting at her desk and crying out that she was pushing. She would laugh if her body hadn’t forced her into another push.

They needed to get set up and quick, Char looked like she was suffering just as much as Laura was. When the contraction waned just a bit, Laura stopped pushing and somehow managed to haul her body back to standing. Char looked okay, well as she could given the situation, riding out a contraction and holding on to the sturdy frame of her workbench.

“I’m getting more towels, hang on Char!” Laura shouted, hoping her boss would hear over the groans Char was making.

Waddling ever so slowly, the head sitting right behind her lips, Laura went off to the cupboard to find more towels. They’d soon need them.

Another contraction struck mere minutes after the last while Laura was in the cupboard but she was not as successful this time in staying on her feet. The force of the contracting muscles and slashing pain splitting her open brought her to her knees. She clung on to the shelf in front of her, her heavy belly squished between widened thighs, and she pushed hard wailing with the effort. The head was peaking through, pushing apart her folds in her underwear. But her body was driving this journey, Laura was just the passenger. After a solid minute the contraction let up and when she released the push with a gasp, the baby slipped back into the birth canal. With a trembling hand she felt the fabric between her legs, she was definitely bulging, but the head wasn’t crowning just yet. She breathed deeply, gathering her strength before getting back on her feet. She needed to get back with the extra towels, not just so she could birth her baby there but so she could help Char. She’d need a friend and the support right now, and so could Laura.

As Laura submitted, pushing freely and loudly as though nothing else mattered in the world except getting her baby out and getting it out now, Char resisted her baby’s inevitable birth. Panicked, she gulped in a breath, trying to ease up on her furious pushing as she felt the head filling her opening thoroughly. It was beginning to bulge her, though her lips remained shut. The pressure and incredible sensation of the head sitting low at her opening, almost ready to exit, was almost too much to bear. She mooed deeply, from the back of her throat. Her belly tightened even harder than before, squeezing her like a vice and she couldn’t help but push again. The baby strained against her opening, and she could feel her most delicate area distending obscenely.

“Oh god!” She cried, throwing her head back as her thighs spread and she pushed again and again uncontrollably. The urge was undeniable. She was subject to her body and right now, it was telling her to birth her baby. Here, now, into her trousers. She felt helpless. Out of control.

“It’s coming,” she moaned. “Ohhh, it’s coming!” She knew this deeply, intuitively, with an age-old maternal instinct. She was ready to birth her baby. But she felt alone and vulnerable.

“Laura,” she gasped, couldn’t say much more than that. “Laura, oh god, it’s coming and I’m pushing! I need to hold it in! Just a little longer!”

She could hear Char’s wailing from the corridor, becoming fast apparent the lead technician was losing her fight against the inevitable. With one arm carrying a load of towels, the other hand pressed against the wall as she waddled heavily back to the office. On walking into the room she saw her friend and colleague in a deep squat, white-knuckling the work bench, chin to chest and pushing. Loudly.

“Oh Char, it’s okay hun.” Laura shut the door behind her and dropped the towels beside her friend. “You have to breathe as well as push darling.” She said as she staggered to her own workbench and grabbed the medical supplies she’d collected. With the baby playing peek-a-boo into her underwear, Laura knew their time was almost up.

Cumbersomely, Laura got down to her knees beside her boss, putting the clamps and scissors on the pile of towels. “Shhhhh it’s okay Char, don’t fight it. Use that contraction and push with the pain.” Laura rubbed a hand up and down Char’s back, trying her best to support and encourage through this.

Unfortunately with their labors progressing in tandem, Laura’s role as carer was snatched away when the next contraction tore its way across her midsection. Instinctively, without intending to, her body was pushing with the pain and she could feel the baby start to leak through again and stretch apart her lips. She went to all fours and rocked, sinking backwards towards her heels whenever she had to bear down.

“Mnnnnghhhhhhh! Come on baby….” She groaned before gasping another breath and pushing hard again. She didn’t care that she was still in her work clothes, or that she was on the floor of a laboratory that was covered with two lots of amniotic fluid, she was simply following her instincts and soon the baby stopped slipping back in and stayed, keeping her lips in a perfect oval shape.

“Ohhhh god… I think it’s starting to c-crownnnn….” The assistant managed to huff when the contraction eventually dulled.

Char’s belly refused to fully relax at this point, now constantly flexing with forceful surging contractions, but there were brief moments of respite where she could pause in her pushing and some awareness returned to her. Laura, she realized, was beginning to tent her pants with pushing, on all fours with her back arched and her hips shoved forward, trying to make as much room for the large crowning head as possible. She was pushing the head into her clothes, Char realized, bulging them ridiculously, and between her spread thighs more fluids dripped and leaked. At the same time she processed this she realized that her own clothes had never been discarded, but she made no effort to remove them in her precious few moments before her body would force her baby further out of her. Instead she clung onto the naive hope that she’d miraculously stumble upon a cure while crowning into her pants, feeling the head beginning to press up against her underwear and part her lips slightly. Laura, she could tell, had offered less resistance to her body and had made more progress in her pushing, the head sitting permanently, she calculated from the bulge in Laura’s pants, at around a half-crown or more.

“Hey,” she croaked hoarsely, barely able to manage anything but grunts with her clenching belly. “You—you need to get your pants down, hun. Head’s coming out.”

Painstakingly, she began to squat down, moaning as the head was pressed back slightly into her sensitive lips by the tension of her underwear. It felt so low, so full, she needed to open up, she needed to push, relieve the immense pressure, yet her friend, yes friend, not just assistant, needed her. As she squatted low, she hooked her fingers around Laura’s waistline.

“I need, urgh, I need you to get your legs together. Mmmm, we gotta get your pants off, ‘kay?”

She was surprised to see Char moving in her peripheral vision, but Laura could pay no mind, for this baby wanted out and it wanted out now.

“Grhhhhh!!! It’s coming out… mnghh!” Laura cried into the next push, bearing down and feeling the head stretch her wider and wider. Her hips were so full, her pelvis felt like it could snap, the pressure of this baby’s head - this large and heavy mass - *needed* to come out.

Char’s attempt to remove her trousers was fruitless, though the black fabric was stretchy and comfortable with the expanding of her stomach, it was not elasticated enough to be pulled over the wide angle of her legs. The baby sat so low, right at her entrance, stretching her entrance wide with the emerging crown. There was no way in hell she would be able to put her legs closer together.

Instead, she widened them further. “Hmngh! Can’t… baby… coming…I have to pushhhh-mnghhhh!” Laura’s face sunk towards the floor, dropping to her elbows and opening up her hips to the skies. It was coming out, she could feel it sliding slowly out of her into her stretchy clothing. All she could do was push…. Pant and push again.

Char watched in utter fascination as Laura pushed with total abandonment, entirely consumed with the baby coming out of her, every last thought focused on the overwhelming, intense, undeniable urge to push. The bulge in Laura’s pants grew, stretched her thinly and Char could scarcely believe that such a huge head could come from her, pass through such a narrow opening with so much force. She removed her fingers from Laura’s waistline, realizing the impossibility of such a task at this stage in Laura’s labor. She was pushing it out into her pants, and there was nothing Char could do about that except cup the growing bulge as it emerged from Laura’s opening into the straining fabric.

It was terrifying, watching Laura push without regard for anything else. As she felt a powerful contraction wrack her own reddened, exhausted belly, she knew there was no stopping this. She was giving birth and was about to push a baby out into her pants exactly as Laura was doing now. She growled fiercely, deep in her squat—the perfect position. Her knees jackknifed and she opened her hips as wide as they could go. Against her opening the fabric of her underwear arched with the coming head as she bore down immensely. Her face turned bright red with her hardest push yet.

“Oh GODDDD!” She bellowed. “It’s COMING, I’m pushing it OOUUUTTTT!”

Her lips parted, wider and wider, trembling and convulsing around the head as it burned and stretched her. She jerked, trying to escape the ring of fire and yet she couldn’t stop pushing for a minute. She was in the final stages now, and the only way the burn would stop was when she had pushed her baby into the world. Instinct took over completely. This was what her body needed her to do. This was what SHE needed to do.

Even though they were consumed with their own births, Laura found comfort that at least they were together through this. Each laboring woman was not alone.

But the strength required to birth these babies, who didn’t even exist 24 hours ago, would be down to the mother. Gasping for air Laura pushed again with everything she had, through the pressure and pain and the burning ring of fire that had her mouth open in a silent scream. The baby’s head had to be almost out by now, surely!?

Despite being beside each other Char’s bellowing voice seemed so far away to Laura. Nothing else registered beside the baby being born into her pants. She growled with another push and suddenly yelped when the head slipped fully out.

“Oh my god oh my god…” Laura muttered over and over and pushed herself back up on her knees. She scrambled at the waistband of her elasticated trousers and pulled them down to her knees along with her underwear. Her baby, she had to get to her baby, the maternal instinct cried in her head. With a trembling hand she felt the newly born baby’s head that was now wedged between her thighs. “Hi…. baby… oh my gosh you’ve got hair!” Laura was in shock, but also in awe of what her body had just done.

It was only after the head was born that Laura properly heard the cries of her friend. “Char…” she muttered and saw the other woman squatting and huffing, red-faced, chin to chest, with an obscene bulge protruding from her clothes between her wide legs.

“Oh my god Char! Your baby is coming out!”

Had Char any piece of mind she might have answered with her customary sarcasm: oh really? I wouldn’t have guessed. Instead, the only sound that emerged from her mouth was a long lowing wail that only deepened and became more guttural as the head filled her bottom so thoroughly, and it felt as though her pelvis was creaking open to allow the massive head through. She opened slowly, barely pausing to take a breath as she bore down without repose. Dimly, she was aware of Laura’s own baby dangling between her thighs, having pushed the huge head out, and with renewed efforts Char grunted the head further and further out. Her lips tautened and thinned, red with the stretch. The head reached a full crown and for a moment Char pushed and it didn’t move, solid mass wedged tightly in her opening. She gasped, scared for a moment that it was too big, that there was no way she could push something of this size out of her body.

Then she heard Laura cooing to the head between her legs, and something stirred within her. She realized that the dread she’d been facing was being replaced with something like motherhood, her body responding naturally, automatically, to Laura’s awe and wonder. Char realized that she wanted to meet this thing she had carried inside her for a mere twenty-four hours.

“C’mon BABYYYYY!” She shouted, bearing down furiously. Her lips slipped around the head, and then—with a splash of fluids and a grunt of relief, Char freed the head into her pants.

Laura watched in fascination as Char grunted the head further and further into her clothing, it was huge. Char had been fighting this throughout the entire pregnancy and in that moment Laura understood why some women balked so much away from birth. It was hard work. But then she saw a change in her friend, the way her eyebrows furrowed with determination, the slight readjustment of her hips as she took a breath; she was no longer fighting against her body and was readying herself to meet her child.

“You can do it Char, push!” Laura called as Char bore down. She wished she could move to support her friend physically but she was still mid-way through her own rapid birth to risk moving.

Tears begun to well in her eyes at the thought of their babies, the exhaustion of labor and the stress of the last 24 hours hammering her emotions.

By the time Char had birthed the head of her baby into her pants Laura was already feeling the pangs of the next contraction and the baby’s head turned slightly in the palm of her hand. “Oohhhhh… mhhh okay okay… you ready little one?” She panted, pulling in air through her nose, widening her legs apart to steady her balance and preparing herself to push again. Both hands were between her legs when the contraction really got going and all too soon she was pushing once more and felt the shoulders stretch apart her already sore lips.

With trembling fingers, Char reached down between her legs, feeling the hard slick roundness of the head she’d just pushed out between her legs. She gasped. The aftershocks of her contraction clutched at her belly.

“Oh… oh, my—that’s a baby. I just gave birth.”

The evidence was conclusive. But she could scarcely believe that she’d pushed an entire baby through her birth canal and out into her pants. The experience she’d just been through, the effort, the haze of contractions and the hard pushes as she focused on nothing but expelling her baby, and the intense sensations throughout her body. It was all unbelievable. Inching down the waistband of her trousers, Char struggled them to her shins and sank to her knees. She panted in disbelief, feeling instinctually that this was *right,* that this was what she was meant to be doing. Her identity had irreconcilably changed to that of a mother and as she caressed the head between her legs, she felt a rush of contentment. Char was a scientist, an expert in her field, but now it all paled in comparison.

She glanced up at Laura, seeing her shock and awe mirrored in her eyes as she lifted her baby from between her legs and rested it against her chest. Laura smiled exhaustedly at her.

Char began to pant as another contraction took hold.

“Ooh—“ she exclaimed. “You’re ready…. c’mon, you’re ready to be—UGH! BORN!”

Her baby slipped between her lips with a spray of fluids and immediately she sank to the floor, sighing in immense relief.

Laura fell silent with her final pushes, holding her breath as she bore down, the head filling her palm as the shoulders squeezed their way through. She gasped another breath and pushed with everything she had, this was it, she could feel it. Come on baby…

Once the shoulders were freed Laura wasn’t expecting the speed of which the baby slipped out and the hush of fluid that came with it. Catching the slippery newborn Laura gasped, relieved and shocked, and immediately brought the babe to her chest.

“Hey…. Oh my- hey baby.” She cooed, eyes welling with tears as she looked upon this little miracle that had grown in the last 24 hours. When the baby started to cry she instinctively rocked and hushed the infant “it’s okay… you’re okay.” She said, wiping the blood and fluid off the newborn's face.

Laura had barely caught her breath back when Char started pulling down her trousers and panted heavily, a baby’s head hanging between her open legs. A second later Char was mirroring Laura’s actions and pulling her own baby to her chest and sobbing with relief.

“You did it.” Laura said softly to her friend. “We did it. I can’t believe they’re real, we just had babies.”

The Spell might currently be a scientific mystery, but as the two women sat exhausted on the floor cradling their newborns, the research could wait. For now, the scientists were in awe of the new lives they’d just birthed.

[littlejuicebox]

Astarion talks in his sleep.

Pairing: Astarion x GN!Reader/Tav (Shadowheart is our lovely supporting role though.) Summary/Setting: 6 months post BG3, "good/spawn" Astarion ending, all fluff Rating/Warnings: PG / Very mild if any game spoilers but nothing related to major content or scenes Word Count: 900+ Notes: Inspired by this post here!

-----

Astarion talks in his sleep. It’s something you’ve never mentioned to him, because it’s mostly when he’s having a nightmare about Cazador or some other horrid trauma from his past. You'd quickly determined it not worth bringing up, for fear of embarrassing him. Plus, if you were being honest, part of you found it rather endearing... especially the lighter drabble that would escape his lips. Delighted giggles, little purrs... it could be overwhelmingly adorable, on occasion.

In fact, the first time you ever heard him say he loved you was in his sleep. Then you'd waited weeks… anxiously, impatiently, unbearably for the revelation to come out while he was awake, under his own terms.

But tonight, the talking and tossing isn't cute. The vampire writhing in bed disturbs you, and your eyes flutter open, catching the smallest glimpse of daylight between the thick, tightly drawn curtains and shuttered windows of your bedchamber. You'd just fallen asleep, and you'd be lying if you said you weren't the slightest bit annoyed.

You idly try to figure out the date. Adjusting your schedule to the night life was… difficult; you often lost track of dates nowadays. But somehow you manage to remember that it's been nearly six months since you all saved Baldur's Gate; six months since Astarion had been returned to a creature of the shadows. Six months you've been in the house provided by the city as you two adjust to whatever normalcy you are able to conjure up and figure out your next steps. You were a strong proponent for the Underdark; Astarion was not quite sold.

At first you think the silver-haired elf's tossing and turning is a night terror… it’s been nearly two weeks since the last one. He’s overdue. You ready yourself to pop out of bed and grab your calming herbs to steep a quick sleeping draught. But then you hear him, soft and garbled, laced with thick strings of sleep.

“Will you marry me?”

You turn to stare stupidly at the elf, eyes piercing through the blackness of your room; his face is obscured, you cannot tell if he’s awake. “…what did you say?”

Silence. A long, unbearable stretch of silence where your heart is pounding into your throat, practically rattling around your chest cavity at the sudden shock. And then he’s snoring again, and you’re left with your brow furrowed and robe half pulled onto your shoulder. Well, so much for your sleep.

You meander down the hall to the kitchen, where Shadowheart has several jars and plants strewn across the table. She’s practically taken over the kitchen since Gale left, not that you particularly mind, since she’s also taken over the cooking.

“Aren’t you supposed to be asleep right now?” She asks, spotting you out of the corner of her eye, not lifting her focus from the mortar and pestle in her hand.

“You won’t believe what Astarion just said in his sleep.” You murmur in dazed response, walking over to the cabinets and rummaging through the contents. You grab an old kettle and fill it with water, turning to look at the cleric.

“Gods, what was it? I’m quite thankful to be out of the camp... his night terrors woke all of us up at one point or another. It's no wonder you’re struggling with the schedule adjustment.”

“He said, ‘Will you marry me?’” You respond, almost giggling at how silly that sounds in retrospect, as you place the kettle on the stove.

Shadowheart pauses. One, two, three beats of silence. “Shit… well, I guess the cat is out of the bag now.” She murmurs with a shrug, before returning to grinding her herbs.

“Wh-what?!”

“Oh, come off, don’t be daft! You had to expect it would be coming sooner or later. Gods, your love is almost sickening… it was sickening, having to hear it all the time... once again, so thankful for the separation of these walls.”

You are frozen, your hand still holding onto the kettle as you appraise your friend. Shadowheart is right. You knew a proposal would come sooner or later… you just figured it would be much later. Astarion was still struggling; more often than not you woke to him in tears or in the throes of a sleeping fit. Countless calming elixirs and teas had been drawn up by you and Shadowheart in the last six months. Truly, you hadn’t thought he was thinking that deeply about it... you hadn't been, if at all. Gods, you two still didn't even know where you were headed after leaving this city-supplied house... the lease was up in a few weeks' time.

“I guess… well, I suppose I didn’t think he was ready.” You sigh, lighting the stove and sitting across the table, watching the cleric as she works.

“Oh, trust me, he’s ready. And he's certain. Perhaps not about anything else... but definitely about this. He's been writing to Gale for weeks trying to source a particular ring." Shadowheart responds, now pouring the contents of her grinder into pouches. "Just promise you'll act like it's a surprise when the time comes... he's been talking about it for a while. He's put a lot of thought into things."

"When will it be?"

Shadowheart laughs, the edges of her eyes crinkling as she flicks her gaze toward the ceiling. She’s now cinching the sachets and sorting them all into a nearby basket. "Now that I'm not telling you. I've already given away too much."

You try for a few more minutes to pry the information from your friend, but she remains tight-lipped. You even threaten her with detect thoughts, though you both know you'd never go through with it. Finally, a whistle from the kettle beckons you back to the stovetop, and the conversation is halted as you ready your tea and aim to go back to bed. You might not know when your love is going to pop the question, but you do know that when the time comes, your answer will be a resounding yes.

Click here for Part 2

[tigerpeachs]

Bully - Ryomen Sukuna

-`ღ´- tags: 18+, fem reader, pet name usage, grinding, jealousy, non con, nerd/dork, cum shot, choking, nipple play, fingering, multiple orgasms, pwp, alcohol consumption, unprotected sex, praise 

-`ღ´- wc: 4.2K

-`ღ´- a/n: this is sort of part two of a previous work I did a while back. There's a bit of reader x itadori here, but it mainly focuses on Suku ₊˚ʚ₍ᐢ. ̫.ᐢ₎₊˚✧ ﾟ.

-`ღ´- synopsis: After avoiding Sukuna for almost a full year, he finally gets you alone in a hot tub. He does his best to make up for lost time. 

It was your final year of college. It took you a long time to get here. Painful all-nighters and tough conditioning sessions. From years of academia and athleticism, you’d like to say you were different now. You were more confident, funnier, and more social, unlike the shy girl who was just thankful she wasn’t riding the bench all semester. You were no longer the small underclassmen stuck with doing post-game jersey pick-ups and moving goals all by yourself. You even made a few friends! Maki and Nobara helped you express yourself better and build your confidence. 

There was one event that kicked off the semester, Gojo Satoru’s back-to-school pool party. It was set late enough that all students were back on campus, and able to attend the debauchery, but also early enough that there were no concerns about assignments, games, and practices. Everyone was still high off the summer with warm weather prickling at their skin. 

The main allure that brought you to such an event took form in a pretty pink haircut and a bright toothy grin. Itadori Yuuji. You’ve been seeing him… maybe even dating by former terms instead of what Nobara called a mutual situationship or talking stage or whatever trendy term she blanketed over your dynamic with him. The summer was filled with Itadori pressed against your side during movie nights and screaming your name at your summer league games. Things were new. Things are different now. 

You looked down at the mixed jungle juice swishing in your red solo cup. Maki was arm-wrestling men on the island counter while Nobara forced bottles into the mouths of those who lost against her. You could hear their girlish screams and cheers as they popped open another bottle on the table, making shots for the losers. You couldn’t help but laugh as another man sputtered and coughed out from the taste of Pink Whitney. 

“What’re you giggling about over there?” You hear a sweet voice call out. You picked your head up noticing Itadori, looking as handsome as ever. You looked at him through your lashes, wondering if it was the heat of the room or just your skin warming up. You could feel your skin flush and the words die at the tip of your tongue as you took in the sight of him. His muscles pressed through his shirt, and he looked like he did his hair for once, the crazy pattern manipulated in a way that fit him perfectly. 

“Nothing,” You quickly comment, realizing you must have left some awkward pause in the air. 

“Mmmmhm. I don’t believe you.” He leans against the same counter as you, crossing his arms, biceps bulging and he comes close to you. He looks at the scene in front of you both. Maki slams back another cup as she gets ready to arm wrestle Todou. The large male made sure to roll his sleeve up, making a show of each intricate rigid muscle he owned. He rolled his shoulders back and cracked his head, smirking as he slammed his arm down on the island.   

“Who do you have your money on?” You jump. Itadori had leaned down, whispering directly in your ear. When you look over at him, he doesn't pull away. His pink lips and golden eyes looked more tantalizing up close. A weird feeling twisted in your stomach, and it wasn’t the absurdly sweet jungle juice made. 

“Maki,” You say after swallowing down more of the alcohol mix. 

“You really think she can win?” He asks, uncrossing his arm. Both of them rest on the counter, one on free counter space, and the other behind your back, making you move closer to him. 

You sat silent for a second.

“Isn’t that a little sexist?  to assume she won't win?” You accuse. Yuuji quickly looks down at you, trying to recover from the question. 

“N-no, I mean Todou is just a bigger person.” He tries to reason with you but now you got him. A smile graces your face as he begins to blush and stutter about. 

“I mean,” You turn to him, not caring that you were basically pinned to his hip. You gently grab at his shirt, directly above his belt line, hoping it would ground you. “It’s not about the size of a person, but more so the technique…” Your eyes hold his gaze, even though your heart rattled as you did so. “Right?” 

He takes a gulp as your body rubs slightly against his. The cup you held was pinned against your chest and his, the only cooling material between the two of you. Before he can rattle off a response, there are cheers as Maki is lifted into the air by Yuuta and Toge. You look back at the sight, laughing with joy as Nobara forces Todou to chug from a “bitch cup”. 

“Yuuji!” A voice calls out, you quickly step back, looking up at his best friend, Megumi. He points out back to where the party continues to flow. There are screams as girls are splashed by men jumping in the pool. Itadori’s hand that rested behind you now rests against your hip for a second. “Your brother is looking for you,” He states before leaning down to share hugs with Nobara and Maki. 

Itadori sucks at his teeth, running his thumb over the seam of your skirt. He looks down at you and your once confident state has now reverted back to shyness. The mention of Sukuna made your heart thump in your chest and your hand burn. Your head throbbed as images flashed across your eyes whenever they shut for a second. 

“Fuck,” he hissed, resting his forehead on your shoulder. Your body trembled as you gripped him slightly harder. Sukuna ran his nose against your cheek before pressing chaste kisses against your jawline. “So good baby, gonna make me cum.”

Itadori said your name before asking, “Do you want to come with me? I’m sure it’s something dumb.” He pulls you gently but you don’t give in. Instead, you look up at him with worried eyes and he takes that as you not wanting to be without him. He thinks for a minute as he continues to rub small circles into the side of your hip. You swish your cup around, preparing to chug the remains if necessary to avoid this icky feeling. 

“Satoru has an in-ground hot tub gated in the back. Do you wanna wait there for me?” You look up at him with hopeful eyes. If you went there, you wouldn’t have to worry about running into Sukuna. 

“I don’t have a swimsuit.” You whisper, hoping no one else would hear your conversation as though you weren’t inside a large house party. He smiles down at you and leans in a little closer so he can whisper in your ear. 

“That’s okay, I don’t either, so we can just go in our underwear.” You blush at his statement but either from the need to be away or from the surge of alcohol courage in your system, you nod your head.

“Atta girl!” Yuuji grabs your free hand, twirling you around, then using the motion to pull you into him. “The code is all ones!” He exclaims before he starts walking back to Megumi. “I’ll be there soon!” 

And so, you chug the rest of your drink, opting to grab a smooth seltzer from the fridge before you walk back to the hot tub. You try your best to look sober as you walk over to the gated hot tub, hoping not to gain attention, or worse, show everyone you’re a sloppy drunk.

As you get in, you decide not to relock the gate, instead opting to remove your top and skirt before slipping out of your shoes. You almost stumble as you move toward the hot tub. You press a few buttons, unsure of what they all do, but still enjoy the rush of heat and jets pressing against your skin. You nervously drink the seltzer, wishing you took a shot for confidence before you came all the way out here. 

As time passes, your eyes fall shut, allowing your head to lull over the side of the relaxing machine. A second turns into a minute, turns into a while. You knew Itadori should’ve been back at this point, and you start to feel pangs of regret. What if he just wanted to get rid of you? What if he forgot about you and was with someone else already?

Just as you tried to shake away your thoughts, you heard someone else slip into the water. You picked your head up, and put a smile on your face, ready to see and hear Itadori apologize for being late. Instead, a low whistle meets your ears before you can open your eyes. 

Sitting across from you, sprawled out in all his glory, is none-other than the man you were trying to avoid. He wore an unamused look on his face, but regardless, his eyes ran up and down your frame, causing you to cover yourself with your arms. You feel small underneath his predatory gaze. You haven’t spoken to him since that event. You came to practice early and left late. You stopped studying around campus, instead opting to stay in your room to do work. You even made excuses on why you couldn’t go over to Itadori’s place or go to his games. A cocky smirk falls on his face.

“Have you been avoiding me, doll?” You didn’t answer, instead wondering if Itadori would show up and miraculously make Sukuna leave. Seeing him had your stomach twisting in ways the alcohol didn’t. You muttered something under your breath bringing your knees up as if it would make you feel safer. Thoughts of that night crawl back to the forefront of your mind.

Sukuna pulled his cock out, hard, dripping, and quickly grabbed your wrist. Your eyes widened as he placed your hand around his hard shaft. A soft grunt fell from his lips as he bent over you. 

“Too scared to speak to me or something?” He moves in causing you to put your hand up against his thick chest, hoping to stop him from coming closer. His scent - his pheromones cut through your nostrils, and it oddly makes your mouth water and skin flush. The feeling of his shaft moving in the palm of your hands comes back to you, causing you to tense and compare it to the strong expanse of his chest. The way they’re both so smooth yet hard, rigid even. 

He can see how nervous you look. The meek girl from last year is still in there. You may have changed your hair, worn sexier clothing, and even flirted with other men, but he knew you. He knew that you were still a nervous wreck of a girl who stuttered when she spoke, who analyzed the whole room before talking, who gets scared when her panties get wet. Probably still hasn’t even fingered herself open yet, and you’re in college? Pathetic.  

You fall silent as Sukuna palms your waist under the water. His fingers slip over the fabric of your panties, moving upwards to hold your waist. You gasp at the speed of his movement. He manhandles you over his waist and sets you down on his pelvis. You jump as you feel something slot itself against your core. 

“Now why have you been avoiding me, Squirt? Didn’t I tell you to text me?” You brace yourself against his broad shoulders as he whines your hips slowly. The movement causes your core to drag across his covered bulge. “After you made me cum in your hand, I wanted to see how ruined you were. Wanted to see that pretty face all confused.” Your eyebrows scrunched together at the fire rushing up your loins. The pit of your stomach felt heavy, like when Itadori would hold you close or look at you a certain way. 

“I- That’s… That’s disgusting!” You finally whimper while he continued to use your body at his own will. 

“Mmmhm. If it’s so disgusting,” He forces you to lean forward, propping your ass up out of the water. His fingers easily find your wet sopping hole, shoving your panties to the side to run against your opening. “Then why are you so wet?” 

Your skin turned rosy at the words. 

Why? 

You didn’t know… You felt betrayed by your body, letting out soft angelic sounds while the demon of a man played and toyed with your body. Sukuna tensed his jaw at the sound. He wonders if his brother got to indulge in hearing you even though he told the whole damn school you were off limits. His. Only his. 

He felt your nails dig into his skin as he slipped one finger inside your gummy walls. The intrusion caught you off guard. You pressed your body forward, trying to avoid the foreign sensation. It cause his finger to slide slightly out of your entrance, but he pressed forward. Sukuna curled his finger, rubbing that spongy spot inside of you. You whimpered in his ear, involuntarily twitching your hips at each movement. Your heart was racing, pounding in your chest as he pressed another finger inside. 

“Stop,” You whined, pressing closer to him to avoid the foreign feelings festering inside of you. Your mouth hung open as the digits swirled and intentionally pressed against your walls. Sukuna gripped your hip, trying to stabilize you. He would never admit it, but watching you make a mess on his hand, unsure of yourself or what to do, did things to him. He ached for you. His cock throbbed in tandem with your pulsing walls. 

He pressed his tongue out against your shoulder, biting against the soft skin. Your hand gripped his hair, trying to yank him back, only eliciting a groan and smirk from him. 

“You’re being rowdier than last time.” You couldn't help but moan as he began to stroke your clit. You could feel your juices slip out of you, only to feel obscene when Sukuna pressed them back in. “And you’re so sensitive,” His words were lost on you. 

You tried to sit up, bracing yourself against his shoulders in order to leverage yourself. Pleasure flushed through your system as you lifted your hips up and down his fingers, using him to get yourself off. Just as he did to you. He watched with half lidded eyes, grabbing and leading your pace by holding onto the fat of your ass. He leaned forward, nipping and biting at your breast, still covered by the thin excuse of a bra you wore tonight. 

Something felt like it was going to snap inside of you. Sukuna pulled your head down, crashing your lips against his. Your kiss was sloppy and unnatural, but his was so confident and demanding. His lips slid against yours, teasing his tongue against the seam while he curled his fingers once more. The sensitive skin on your lips felt tingly from his attention on them. 

Your stomach lurched, abs tightening up, body becoming rigid as a flush of nerves tingle up and down your spine. You pressed forward into Sukuna, biting down harshly at his neck while groaning. Your orgasm had your muscles shaking as they fought each contraction that rolled through. Sukuna groaned out from your harsh mannerisms but you didn’t care. 

Everything felt heightened. The fabric against your nipples felt too sensitive. The breath coming out of you felt too heavy. Your eyes watered. Tears fell as you blinked a few times for clarity. Your throat felt dry and your body felt like putty. You didn’t oppose as Sukuna bent you over the edge of the hot tub. His hands played with your ass, groping and squeezing the material. He spread your folds open, admiring your pink walls that still spasmed from how well he finger fucked you. You shied away from his gaze,  causing you to press away, still too sensitive from your early orgasm. 

He did another low whistle and ran his fingers over the seams of your panties. 

“Oi, you still with me, Squirt?” You nodded slowly, not sure what he meant by that. The hot water flushing around your skin kept you warm as the cool air bit at your exposed skin. You shut your eyes, taking deep breaths, hoping the worst was over. 

Sukuna let you have your time, he slipped his bottoms over his cock, letting it slap against his abdomen. He grabbed at your hips. You gasp as you tug back against his cock, slick folds parting for his thick veiny cock to rub against you. The man growled from how much cum and slick had slipped out of you. You were coating his cock in your essence, flooding it with your juices with every rut of your hips. 

You let out little moans, feeling his tip catch on your entrance. You don’t want Sukuna. You don’t care how many women would die to be in your spot. You don’t care about the amount of men that want to be him. You hate the damn brute. He left such nasty images in your head from the last time he messed with you. You hate how… 

His fat leaking tip slapped right against your twitching entrance. He pressed in just slightly, moaning at how your walls worked to accommodate his thick tip.

…You hate how… 

How good this fucking felt. 

You gritted your teeth as he continued to press in. You hunched your back over, trying to run from the burning feeling. It felt like he was splitting you open for Christ’s sake. You held tight to the edge of the hot tub, skin losing color from your grip. He bottoms out, lulling his head back from how tight and warm you are. Your cunt is quivering around him, begging him to cum right inside that little nerd body of yours. He palms at your ass and hips, gritting his teeth. 

He doesn’t move at first. He’s breathing heavily through his nose, showing some restraint. Waiting for your body to accept him. You take some time to relax your back, and he takes that as the move to rock forward. His blunt tip rubbed against your cervix, fat veins pressing against your spot. You whined as he rocked an inch out and back in. 

“Aaatta girl” He calls out to you, making you keen at the words. Nerds like you loved getting praise. Perfect 100’s. Amazing score marks. All fucking A’s on a report card. He leans over to get close to you. Your back is arched and he maneuvers your hair over to one side so it’s not in the way. He speaks in a sultry tone, low in your ear “I knew you could take cock well.”

You can't help but clench down at his words. You grit your teeth as he grinds into your pussy, sliding his cock against your walls. You moan as he angels his hips in circular motions, dragging his cock perfectly over that spongy spot inside of you. He grabs at your hair, tugging your head back, forcing your moans to flow out properly. 

“Good fucking girl,” He groans. His eyes roll back as you continue to suck him back in. Every time he pulls out, your pussy works him back in. He knows that cunt wants to make a home for his dick. Yeah. Your pussy was made for him. 

Sukuna stops with the slow grinding, preferring now to rail you like the slut you try to be now. He smirks as he looks down, changing pace. He doesn’t give a warning. You cry out as he pounds into you at a brutal pace. It hurt. It hurt but it felt so fucking good. Little “Ah, ah, ah, ah’s” fell from your lips. He couldn’t decide what looked better, the sight of your ass recoiling against his pelvis, only to leave a white streaky mess when he pulled out, or the cock drunk look in your rolled back eyes with your lips pink and swollen from his bruising kiss earlier. 

He’s made you like this. No one else. No one, not even his damn brother, could come close to making you feel this way. The jealous thought of anyone even trying made Sukuna tense his jaw. He should've taken you from the front for your first time, that way he’d never forget the look on your face when you came on cock for the first time. 

He grabs at your waist, forcing you to meet his thrust. Your insides feel stirred up, your stomach feels full, veins rushing with excitement. You panted between the other little sounds you made, opting to close your eyes. The sensations flooded your system more with no visual context. You could feel Sukuna throbbing inside of you. You could feel your pussy tingling with every thrust. Your clit felt swollen and throbbed whenever his balls would slap aggressively against them. You were gonna cum soon. 

Sukuna reached below and pulled your bra down, making your tits hang over the fabric. The way they bounced while your nipples were so sensitive had you curling your toes for relief. 

“This pussy is like a fucking dream,” He rasp, pulling out with hopes of not blowing his load too fast. The sight of your clenching cunt leaking, aching for something inside of it, it sent his mind reeling. He slotted his dick over your ass, only to feel your hips lift, trying to get him back in. Chasing that feeling from earlier. 

Have you no shame? Aren’t you the one who worked so hard to avoid him? Now you’re bent over a hot tub at one of the biggest parties of the year. Your cunt is open for anyone to see, almost begging for someone to fill it. You can’t even admit how much you want it, want him, but here you are trying to cum on his dick. 

He smacks the fat of your ass, lining himself back up. 

Who knew a nerd could be such a slut?

Sukuna pressed in again, leaning over and reaching for your throat. He forced you up and back. One of your hands followed his, hoping for mercy,  while the other tried to gain some leverage by pushing you up from the hot tub. He continued his rapid bruising pace, watching your body shake with each thrust. Sukuna dropped his gaze to your tits and lifted his hand to play with your nipple, squeezing and pulling it while you moaned. 

“You gonna cum?” The man asks, pressing his fingers harder against the side of your neck. You felt drugged. From the lack of blood flow to the brain, to the heat, the alcohol in your system , and the cock destroying your insides.

“Hnnn!” You let out. Sukuna turned you to face him. You were tightening up and clamping, unaware of what was sure to be your demise. You opened your mouth, pressing your tongue out, expecting his. Sukuna’s skin flushed and he rushed for his tongue to meet yours in a sloppy kiss. His hand dropped to rub at your sensitive clit, forcing you to teeter over the edge. 

Your scream came out muffled against Sukuna’s tongue. Tears pricked at the corner of your eyes as you tried to pull away from his thrust. Sukuna didn’t relent, selfishly chasing his release as well. You fell forward and he followed. You pulled away from his kiss, gasping out as your orgasm started to become painful in its persistence. You tried to press a hand back to stop him, but Sukuna only grabbed it. 

The way you looked back at him, fucked out, hot, needy, sore from the way he fucked you. You pretty pink lips whimpered out his name. “R-Ryo,” You cried, trying to escape his intense thrust. You intertwined your hand with his, clasping it tightly with hopes that it would ease up. 

That is what made him cum. 

Sukuna shoved your hips forward, slipping his cock out. He grabbed at his cock and forced you to stay still as he shot his cum over your ass. Seed spilled over your cheeks, drizzling towards the arch in your back and down over your folds. The sticky wet feeling made you shake in his arms. 

Both of you were breathless from the altercation. The man leaned over, pressing kisses onto your spine and shoulder. The time spent silently in each other's arms felt relaxing. Your muscles began to relax, making you go slack against the edge of the hot tub. Sukuna watched your body intently, before resting his head against your shoulder plane. He hummed as his cock softened against your cunt, still enjoying the feeling of your swollen sex. 

“Don’t ever avoid me again, nerd.” He whispers against your skin. 

Even though you knew you would, you couldn’t help but nod in agreement to him.

[imagines-all-day-everyday]

friends

summary: *yn* and damon are friends. good friends. just friends. nothing more, nothing less. until elena's eighteenth birthday party and the captain of the waterpolo team comes along, leaving damon wondering how much he really likes that term.

warnings: swearing, drinking, fluff, vampire stuff, cheating (kinda??)

"What do you think?"

"Give me a spin."

*yn* resisted the urge to roll her eyes as she complied, shuffling her body around in a circle.

"Oooh I really like this one." Caroline observed. She shifted on the small couch placed into the middle of the boutique as she took a few moments to run her eyes over *yn*'s body.

"I think this might be the one."

This time *yn* couldn't restrain herself as she threw her hands up in frustration and huffed.

"Care, you've said that about all of them."

"I'm sorry, it's not my fault you look good in everything!"

*yn* groaned in response as she shoved the curtain across the metal rod, concealing herself from Caroline once more.

"I give up." She exclaimed dramatically as she pulled the red dress over her head. "I'm just going to go with the blue one."

"If that's what it takes for you to stop whining." She heard Caroline mumble on the other side of the curtain.

"I heard that!"

The shrill ringtone of Caroline's phone rung out through the store.

"Oh sorry Elena's calling, be right back."

*yn* shook her head as she heard Caroline answer the phone and hurry out of the store. She slipped the blue dress back on over her head just as her shoulder bag began to vibrate.

She couldn't fight the small smile threatening to tug on her lips at the Caller ID.

"Well if it isn't my second favourite Salvatore brother."

"Ouch, why is it that you're always so mean to me?" Damon's amused voice slipped out through the speaker.

"Because being nice is boring." She answered as she slipped out of the change room.

"Using my own logic against me, I've taught you too well." She smiled at his words as she made her way over to the mirror.

"What are you up to? Down for a little road trip?"

"Can't sorry. Helping Caroline plan Elena's birthday party." *yn* twisted around in front of the mirror, scrutinising the dress from every angle.

"Ah yes the big eighteenth how could I forget."

"Why? Where are you going?" *yn* asked as she finally drew her attention away from the mirror.

"Tennessee."

Her brow furrowed at her answer. "Another potential Stefan victim?"

"Yep. The sheriff gave Elena another location."

"She's not going with-"

"No way. Told her I'd take it on myself."

There was a pause as *yn* glanced out the shop window to make sure Caroline was still out the front on the phone, her ears occupied and unable to listen in.

"They're going to be like the other victims, aren't they?"

"Probably."

She felt herself grow nauseous at the thought of what Damon would no doubt find in Tennessee. Even his verbal reports back to her had been enough to make her skin crawl. If there had been any doubts before if Stefan was a ripper, they were long gone by now.

"Are we ever going to tell her?"

There was a pause on the other end of the line. She heard Damon let out a sigh.

"If I find him and sort him out we won't ever have to."

"Alright just- just let me know how you go ok?" Despite her best efforts she couldn't hide the concern laced through her words.

"Always do. See you at the party."

"See you at the party."

"Oh *yln*-"

Damon's voice crackled through the speaker just as her finger hovered over the button to end the call.

"Yeah?" She pressed the phone to her ear once more.

There was a pause on the other end of the line.

"Wear the red one." *yn* swore she could practically hear his smirk through the phone before he hung up.

*yn* whirled around, the phone still pressed to her ear. Her eyes darted around the store and then out through the windows that revealed the main street of Mystic Falls.

Her heart was thumping in her chest and a blush was creeping up onto her cheeks. Damon was no where to be seen.

"Ugh god Elena is still complaining about this party, I swear it's like no one wants to have fun in this town anymore- are you ok?"

*yn* turned to see Caroline staring at her, brow raised when she noticed her flushed complexion.

"Uh- yeah fine." *yn* lied, swallowing as she turned to go back into the change room.

"Ok..." Caroline studied her before turning her attention back to her phone.

She glanced up once more after a few moments to see *yn* emerging from the change room, back in her jeans and tank top. Her brow furrowed.

"I thought you were getting the blue one?"

"Yeah I um-"

*yn* glanced down at the red material clutched in her arms.

"I changed my mind."

The bass felt like it was pounding against her skull. Sweaty bodies were brushing against her on all sides. She could already feel the back of her knees start to slick with sweat as she weaved through the crowd.

Apparently this was Caroline's definition of a 'small' party. Bodies occupied every square inch of the Salvatore boarding house. Her eyes slid over the hundred or so faces. Some she recognised from school. Others she had never seen before in her life.

She smoothed down the front of her short dress as she stepped around a couple making out at the bottom of the staircase. She could feel multiple sets of eyes on her as she moved deeper into the house. The waterpolo team bunched in the corner didn't even make an attempt to look away as she walked past.

She smirked to herself. She'd shown up with the intention of looking hot, so far it seemed to be going according to plan. She surveyed the crowd once more. A flash of blonde hair caught her eye, which she instantly made a beeline for.

"Care!"

Caroline swung around at *yn*'s voice, a grin spreading across her lips as she looked her up and down.

"Oh my freaking god you look so hot." She squealed as she lurched forward and wrapped her arms her shoulders.

*yn* laughed and squeezed her tightly back. "So do you."

"Who the hell are these people?"

"Friends of friends." Caroline shrugged. *yn* raised a brow at her before turning to survey the room. Her eyes involuntarily searching for one person in particular.

"C'mon, I need a shot." Caroline announced as she grabbed *yn*'s hand and tugged her towards the drinks table.

*yn* grinned as she let Caroline lead her through the crowd.

"Is everyone here?" *yn* shouted over the thumping bass.

"I think so." Caroline shouted back, her eyes gleaming as she spotted a bottle of tequila.

*yn* turned around, her eyes scanning the crowd once more.

"Oh actually I haven't seen that reporter girl yet, what's her name - Andrea or-"

"What?" *yn*'s neck snapped back around to look at Caroline.

"Andie's coming?"

Caroline paused and glanced up at her. She had just been about to pour the clear liquid into a shot glass.

"Yeah, Damon insisted on inviting her. Poor girl probably didn't have a choice knowing him." Caroline remarked as she turned her attention back to the bottle in her hand.

"Right." *yn* swallowed. She pressed her lips into a hard line. "Yeah."

She felt sick as she glanced down at the tight red dress covering her body. She suddenly felt incredibly stupid. That for even a moment she had let herself divulge in suppressed fantasies, that she'd let herself get hopeful that something might happen with the vampire that was supposed to be nothing more than one of her good friends.

That she had let herself indulge those feelings that she had always worked so hard to deny and ignore.

"Ok here-" Caroline cut herself off, the shot in her hand for *yn* to take suspended in midair.

She studied her friend for a moment. She withheld a sigh when she saw the tears threatening to pool in *yn*'s eyes.

"Ok no." She announced, slamming the shots back onto the table. The sound made *yn* jump, her eyes focusing back on her friend.

"We are so not doing this tonight."

"Wha-"

"You are not letting your night get ruined by Damon Salvatore of all people."

"Care-" *yn* began, glancing over her shoulder quickly to make sure Damon wasn't in sight before turning back to her. "He's my friend."

"Oh please." Caroline scoffed as she folded her arms in front of her chest. "You don't think I can tell when my best friend is crushing on a guy?"

*yn* felt her cheeks redden.

"Although I've been trying to ignore it given it is Damon-"

She ignored the glare *yn* gave her. "- and I've been hoping it was just a little phase, but clearly that was wishful thinking." She sighed as she gestured to *yn* who had opened her mouth to respond.

"I've known for months, so don't even try and deny it."

*yn* clamped her mouth shut. She felt her resolve weaken under Caroline's stare.

"If you tell a soul-"

"-you'll stake me I know. Your secret's safe with me." Caroline insisted.

With that *yn* felt her shoulders slump in defeat as her barriers finally crumbled down.

"I like him. A lot." She admitted.

"I think I always knew there was something there, but I don't think I realised how much until-" She cut herself off and bit her lip as she felt her eyes begin to water.

Caroline's hard gaze softened at the sight. "Hey, it's ok." Caroline comforted her, running a hand down her arm. "Do you want to go somewhere and talk about it?"

"No." *yn* shook her head as she sniffed. "No, like you said. I don't want this to ruin my night. It's been so long since we've actually had fun."

It was true. Before Damon and Stefan returned to Mystic Falls, *yn* was the life of the party, drinking almost every weekend and staying out way past curfew - much to her parents chagrin. But now, she could barely even remember what it felt like to be drunk and let loose.

Her answer made Caroline's eyes brighten. "Exactly, and you look way too hot right now to be crying over a guy."

*yn* followed Caroline's gaze to look around the room of warm bodies. Her eyes flitted over a few guys, her confidence sparking once more when she saw their eyes were already on her.

"You could have literally anyone you want in here."

She could have anyone she wanted, except for Damon. Almost as if she could read her mind, Caroline grabbed her hand.

"Ok, in my opinion you have two options right now." Caroline continued.

"You can go and tell Damon how you feel and let it out, or-" She paused as she raised the cup up to *yn*'s face. "You can get trashed with me and forget all about stupid boys."

*yn* raised a brow, not missing the hint of bitterness in Caroline's voice. It sounded a little bit too personal to just be about Damon. She decided to let it go however, as her eyes flickered down to the red solo cup and then back at Caroline.

"Make it a double."

Caroline's grin widened, "now you're sounding like my best friend."

*yn* watched as she eagerly poured extra into her cup, internally wincing at how free handed she was being with the liquor.

"To being hot and getting drunk." Caroline toasted once she'd handed *yn* her drink.

"To being hot and getting drunk." *yn* echoed, clinking their cups together before pressing it to her lips. She winced as the liquor burned her throat. She definitely had not missed that feeling.

"Ugh, speak of the devil."

*yn* followed Caroline's gaze behind her shoulder. She twisted around to see Elena and Damon making their way down the stairs.

Damon was dressed in black jeans and a blue button down with the sleeves rolled up his forearms. He looked annoyingly hot, as usual.

The pair hadn't spotted them yet as Caroline and *yn* made their way through the crowd towards them.

"Happy birthday!" Her and Caroline chorused as they reached them.

"You look amazing." *yn* grinned as she pulled her other best friend in for a tight hug.

"Thank you, so do you. The red is hot." Elena chuckled as they pulled away from each other.

*yn* could feel Damon's eyes on her but kept her focus on Elena.

"You like?" Caroline asked her, gesturing to the party around them.

"I-" Elena cut herself off as she glanced around the room. "This is keeping it small?"

Caroline didn't answer her, instead shooting her an innocent smile.

Elena couldn't fight the grin spreading across her lips as she let out a dramatic and defeated huff, "what are we drinking?"

Caroline giggled and gripped Elena's arm and tugged her towards the drinks table.

*yn* watched them go, feeling Damon's eyes still on her. Caroline's words echoed in her head. She was right. Just because she had feelings doesn't mean she had to act weird or let it get to her. He was still her friend, first and foremost. There was no reason to change how she was around him.

She took a breath and made sure her face was the perfect picture of normalcy before turning around to meet his gaze.

"Hey."

"Hey yourself." He answered, his eyes dragging down her front before flicking up to her face.

"Nice dress."

"Thanks, I had help picking it out."

A smirk twitched up onto his lips. "Well, they've got excellent taste. They're a good friend."

Friend. The word stung more than it usually did.

She forced a smile onto her lips, "that they are."

"*yn*! Get over here we're doing birthday shots!" Elena called out to her.

*yn* glanced over her shoulder and nodded before looking back up at Damon.

"Sorry, duty calls." She shrugged innocently.

"Please." He gestured for her to go. It was then that she noticed the bottle of bourbon in his hand. "Don't let me stop you."

She shot him one last grin before making her way towards Elena and Caroline.

Damon's eyes followed her the whole way there.

"I am every parents worst nightmare." Alaric sighed. "I am the chaperone teacher from hell."

"I love high school parties." Damon grinned as he jumped up onto the ledge.

"Isn't Andie supposed to be coming?"

"10 o'clock broadcast, she'll be here in a little bit."

"Uh huh." Ric remarked as he took a deep drink. Damon's brow furrowed as he glanced up from his glass.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"What is what supposed to mean?"

"That little face you just made. Something wrong with Andie?"

"With your fake compelled girlfriend? No not at all." Ric drawled sarcastically.

"Hey it's a complicated dynamic ok."

"Or it's a distraction."

Damon's eyes narrowed even further. "Distraction from what exactly Ric?"

"Hey Mr Saltzman!" A loud voice prevented Ric from answering.

They both glanced up to see a tall, muscular guy approaching them through the door that led into the party. He was wearing a Mystic Falls High varsity jacket.

Damon frowned when he saw a flash of red behind him. He froze mid sip when he saw that flash of red belonged to *yn*'s dress.

"Jake." Alaric nodded in greeting.

Jake came to a stand still in front of them, a wide grin on his face. "*yn* told me you were chaperoning."

Then all eyes were on *yn*, who was now standing beside him. Jake's arm wrapped around her shoulders to pull her against him.

Damon felt something twist inside him.

"Had to see it for myself."

"Here I am." Alaric chuckled awkwardly.

"See I told you!" She giggled as she swayed against him. Her eyes were glassy and cheeks were flushed. A bottle in her hand.

"Badass Mr Saltzman." Jake complimented. It was then that his eyes landed on Damon. Confusion flashed across his features as he tried to place him.

"Oh Jake this is my friend." *yn* introduced, "Damon Salvatore."

Friend. It was what he was to her, the correct title to describe their relationship. But tonight, in front of this guy, it prodded something inside him. Unfurling inside him like a wasp injecting its barbed stinger into his veins.

"Salvatore... oh shit so you own this place?" Jake's eyes lit up in recognition.

"Home sweet home." Damon remarked, unable to hide the annoyance in his voice as he took a deep sip of his bourbon.

"It's dope. Sickest party location for sure." Jake complimented.

"Oi Masters!"

The group turned around to see another boy standing at the precipice of the home. "We're about to start another round, get your ass in here!"

"Beer pong." Jake explained to the group. "I'm the reigning champion." He boasted proudly. Damon rolled his eyes when Jake glanced down at *yn* for a reaction who giggled and patted his chest.

"I didn't realise we were in the presence of such a high performance athlete." He remarked earning a snort from Ric.

The liquor swishing around in Jake's stomach seemed to hinder his ability to pick up on Damon's sarcasm as he looked up and shot him another grin.

"Alright, it was nice meeting you Damon. See you in school Mr Saltzman."

Ric tilted his head in acknowledgement and Damon simply shot him a tight lipped smile.

"See you guys later." *yn* waved before bursting into a fit of giggles as Jake eagerly pulled her back inside.

Damon glanced down. His grip on his glass tightened. Jake's hand was entwined with hers.

Ric glanced between the disappearing couple and Damon.

"Careful buddy, you might break that glass."

"I hate high school jocks." Was all Damon responded with as he drained his drink and immediately reached for the bottle.

"What's his deal anyway?"

"Who? Jake Masters?" Alaric queried. He let out a scoff when Damon inclined his head.

"Uh I don't know, he's the captain of the waterpolo team. Not the greatest at history, thinks he's gods gift to women, the usual." Alaric shrugged.

Damon hummed in response. He swirled his drink in his hand absentmindedly as his eyes fixed on the doorway that *yn* and Jake had disappeared through.

"What time is Andie getting here again?" Ric asked him.

"Damon." Ric repeated after a few moments.

"What?"

Ric tried to hide his amused smirk as he studied his friend. "I said what time is Andie getting here again?"

"Oh uh-" Damon's eyes shifted back to the doorway. "11 or something." He spoke dismissively.

Almost as if they had a mind of his own, his legs pulled him up onto his feet. Unable to fight the pull to head inside anymore, he slammed his glass down. "I'm just going to go grab another drink."

Ric raised a brow and glanced at the nearly full bottle of bourbon placed between them. He smirked in amusement.

"You do that buddy."

"Oops sorry!"

Damon glared as another drunk teenager fumbled into him. He pressed the bottle to his lips and tilted his head back. His brow furrowed when the taste of bourbon didn't reach his tastebuds.

He glanced down and cursed under his breath when he saw it was empty. He tossed it to the ground before promptly plucking another bottle out of the hands of a girl passing him who looked like she was about to puke.

"No no, trust me you don't want this." He stared into her eyes, "you want to go outside and puke your guts out on the grass, not on my expensive leather couch."

He rolled his eyes as she nodded numbly and walked past him. He pressed his body against the wooden support beam, his eyes drifting over the unfamiliar faces.

"If you're looking for *yn*, I last saw her in the stoner den."

He glanced to his left to see Elena standing beside him.

"I wasn't. But thanks for the update." He answered as he pressed the new bottle to his lips.

Elena didn't need to know that he'd spent the last twenty minutes trying to find her and had now given up and decided to sulk in the corner.

"Whatever you say."

His eyes narrowed as he glared down at her. She met his gaze with an innocent smile. He resisted the urge to ask her what she meant by that, because a part of him knew exactly what she was hinting at - which had been exactly what Ric had been hinting at - and that was a conversation he wasn't exactly ready to face.

"Have fun sulking." She patted his shoulder and disappeared into the crowd. He watched her go as he took another gulp. What had started out as a fun night was quickly becoming a chore.

He stiffened when his ears detected a laugh that he knew like the back of his hand. Sure enough, it wasn't long until his eyes fell on *yn*.

He clenched his jaw when he saw that she was following after Jake Masters. He was still holding her hand, and was now leading her towards the centre of the room where a dance floor had formed.

Jake turned to *yn* and leant down, whispering in her ear as he encircled his arms around her waist. She laughed and wrapped her arms around his neck as the two began to move to the heavy bass.

As Jake moved, a vein in his neck pulsed out. Damon felt the veins stir under his eyes. All he needed was to sink his teeth into that vein and he could rip his head clean-

"Hasn't anyone ever taught you it's rude to stare?"

Damon ripped his eyes away from the couple, turning his steely gaze to Caroline.

"What do you want blondie." He muttered as he turned his attention back to the dance floor.

"Nothing. Just here to remind you that you are in front of hundreds of people so now is not really the time to get your dracula on."

He rolled his eyes, "I'm fine."

"Really? Because to me it looks like you're about to go rip Jake Masters head off."

Damon's gums ached at he mention of his name.

"Don't you have other things to be worried about blondie?" He sneered.

"Not really."

"Not even your little wolf boy getting it on with a leggier version of you over there?"

Caroline followed his gaze to see Tyler and none other than slutty Sophie of all people grinding on each other in the middle of the room. Caroline ground her teeth and crossed her arms in front of her chest.

"Doesn't bother me." Her voice raised an octave.

"You sure about that? I think that bottle is suffocating." Caroline glanced down and huffed as she loosened the grip on the wine bottle.

"This isn't about me." Caroline hissed as she turned to face him.

"This is about you admitting that seeing Jake and *yn* together is driving you crazy."

"Why would it?"

"Uh gee Damon, I don't know let me think, maybe because you have feelings for her?"

Her words were like a slap in the face. It was the first time anyone had said it out loud. Had dared to voice what they had all been thinking. All of a sudden it felt very real. Very much a possibility that Damon did indeed have feelings for his friend. He felt like the room was closing in on him.

Damon shook his head and forced a chuckle out past his lips, "sorry blondie, but you don't know what you're talking about."

"Really?" She raised her brow, "so that doesn't bother you in the slightest?"

He turned his head and his eyes found *yn*'s figure instantly. His jaw clenched and he pursed his lips.

She had turned around to press her back against Jake's. His hands were roaming her side, brushing the red fabric higher up her thighs. He was placing kisses along her neck and muttering into her ear which was making her giggle.

That single wasp inside him had now spawned into a hive, stinging him from the inside out. Right then and there, he could have ripped the heads off every single person in this room. Tear them limb from limb. Anything to get rid of this sick feeling in his stomach.

A feeling he hadn't felt in a long time, perhaps ever.

A feeling you most definitely did not have towards a friend.

"Oh is that Jake Masters with *yn*?" Elena had reappeared beside him.

"Good for her, he's so hot-"

Damon didn't hear anything else after that, because in that moment Jake had leant in and whispered into her ear once more.

"What do you say we go find somewhere quieter to talk?"

His pulse was ringing in his ears, Jake's smarmy voice slithering around in his head. His legs had moved before he had even decided to. Making a beeline for *yn*.

He had no idea what his plan was. All he knew was that if he didn't get her away from his guy, he was going to murder someone. Jealousy had never agreed with him. It made him even uglier than usual.

"I need to talk to you."

*yn* twisted around in Jake's arms, her eyes widening in surprise at the sight of Damon standing in front of her.

"I'm a little busy."

Damon glared at Jake behind her before his eyes flickered down to her.

"It's important."

"I'm sure it can wait." She shot back.

Jake glanced between them, his brow furrowing as he tried to understand what was going on.

"Jake-" Damon began as he locked eyes with the teenager. "Why don't you go do us proud and win another beer pong championship." He cocked his head and grinned, "and don't come back."

Jake's eyes clouded over momentarily, before he blinked and his eyes focused on *yn*.

"Will do!" Jake grinned.

"Damon!" *yn* protested. It was futile as Jake's hands slipped from around her waist. They watched as he marched towards the kitchen with a determined pace.

"What the hell." She growled as she glared up at him. "I was having fun."

"Of course you were, who wouldn't be with the reigning beer pong champion of Mystic Falls." Damon drawled as he gripped her elbow and dragged her through the crowd.

"I wasn't planning on marrying the guy." She snapped back as he led her up the stairs. "He's hot, it's a party. You do the math."

He gritted his teeth at her answer as he guided her into his bedroom.

"You're drunk."

She huffed as she stormed into the centre of the room.

He shut the door. The noise from the party underneath them was immediately dampened. Now only a dull roar, background noise that occasionally seeped in through the floorboards.

"I don't want you making a decision you'll regret tomorrow."

She inhaled sharply before swivelling around to face him. Her fists clenched at her sides.

"That's not your decision to make."

"You're right. It's not." He nodded as he stalked towards her, "but I'm the one who's going to have to pick up the pieces if you get hurt."

She let out a bark of laughter. "Get hurt? I was dancing with him not running off to get eloped."

"Well we all know where it was heading."

Her eyes narrowed at his response.

"Last time I checked you're my friend, not my parent."

Friend. There it was again. That one little noun that was causing so much heartache. So much turmoil inside him.

*yn* knew she should leave it at that. But anger and liquor never mixed well inside her. And she was hurt and confused. All she had wanted to do was distract herself from him and her feelings, yet now it seemed like she couldn't escape him.

Now she felt like she was going crazy because if she didn't know any better, she could have sworn he was jealous.

"Don't you have anything better to do? Isn't your girlfriend supposed to be here?"

Damon didn't miss the way her lips almost curled into a sneer as they formed the word.

"She's working late."

His answer made her stomach drop. Of course they were still together. How stupid could she be to even let herself think for one moment that they might have broken up, that he might-

"Right." She nodded. "Well, I appreciate the whole friend intervention thing or whatever this is." She gestured to him as she took a few steps forward. "But I'm going back to the party."

She had made it all the way past him when she felt his hand curl around her forearm, rooting her in place.

"You seem to be really enjoying using the word 'friend' tonight."

Silence fell over the pair. Her eyes fluttered shut as she inhaled shakily. She opened her eyes once more and stared at the closed door. She could feel Damon's eyes burning holes in the back of her head.

His hand was yet to leave her bare arm.

"Well that's what you are."

She remembered Caroline's words as she tried to control her nerves. She exhaled as she tried to calm her beating heart as she turned to face him.

"Right?"

She kept her gaze defiant and determined as they locked eyes. He searched her eyes, seemingly looking for something in particular.

"I don't know." He began as he took a step toward her.

His ring band was burning into her skin. Her heart hammered.

"Do friends get the urge to rip the heads off arrogant jocks who touch their other friends?"

*yn* swallowed as she held his gaze. Her mind was going at a million miles an hour. She could barely process what was happening.

"Do friends feel physically ill when they hear the word friend being used to describe their relationship?"

Another step forward. His piercing green eyes flickered down to her lips and then back to her eyes.

"Damon-"

She cut herself off as Damon's hand cradled the side of her face. His teeth captured his bottom lip as his eyes once again fell to her mouth. The pad of his thumb glided over her bottom lip.

"I don't think I want to be your friend anymore *yn*." He murmured, his voice causing goosebumps to rise on the back of her neck.

"In fact, I don't think I've hated the word as much as I do right now." He whispered as he pressed his forehead against hers.

The alcohol running through her veins was clouding her reasoning, not even giving her a chance to think about Andie or Jake, or what the implications of this in the morning would be.

But in that moment, she didn't care. All she could think about was the smell of his cologne invading her senses and the feeling of his fingers running along her hot skin. About how desperate she was to have his mouth on hers.

All it took was the slightest tilt of *yn*'s chin to connect their lips. Her eyes fluttered shut as he finally let go of her arm to bring his other hand up to her cheek, cupping her face in his hands.

Their lips moved in sync as she pressed herself against him, nearly letting out a moan at the feeling. Her hands threaded themselves through his hair as he moved one hand to ensnare her waist. His hand travelled down just as she-

"They're kissing!" The muffled voice on the other side of the door made them pull apart in surprise. She glanced over her shoulder.

"Caroline?" *yn* asked as Damon ran a hand over her lower back. Damon nodded.

"And Elena."

*yn* let out a breathy laugh as she turned back to look up at him.

"Moment ruined?" He asked, a rare smile spreading across his lips as he studied her.

"Kinda." She grinned back as she leant up to capture his lips in another kiss.

They pulled apart after a few moments, pressing their foreheads together as they caught their breaths.

"I have to say *yln*." Damon murmured, a smirk twisting up onto his lips.

"I love not being your friend."

I love this fic, it's been so long since I've just done a stand alone fic!!! As always, feedback is always appreciated. Please give it back here x

[nottsbitch]

My Star- Theo Nott

Harry potter au singer girlfriend X theo nott Italics are flashbacks

✩✩✩✩

"June it's almost time for you to go on"

Since you were younger you had always known that you wanted to be famous. Whether it came from acting in front of a camera or singing on stage. While most people thought that was an out-of-touch dream you knew it was exactly what you wanted.

"I'm almost ready!" That was a lie.

You weren't ready. Tonight was the last show of your first tour and you were supposed to be excited but for some unknown reason, you couldn't be. Of course, that reason wasn't actually unknown.

Your long-term boyfriend, Theo, had been your biggest supporter and your biggest inspiration. You were so blindly in love that every milestone in your relationship had become a song.

Your first song that took off was called "Spring into Summer" which you wrote after your first fight.

"All I'm saying is you could've told me. You know gave me a warning instead of me being blindsided when my friends are texting me telling me that they see my girlfriend out to lunch with her ex-boyfriend who she told me stopped bothering her." In all of their relationship June had never seen her boyfriend this upset before.

She went to try and explain herself but before you could get her mouth open Theo was talking again.

"You know I love you but when you do things like this I have to wonder if you feel the same way about me."

A shot to the heart was all that June felt.

"Theo... Don't say that." You paused "You know I love you"

"So you have a good reason for why you were with your ex?" You stayed silent. "That's what I thought"

With that your boyfriend stormed out with a slam of a door leaving you with his scent and your thoughts.

That night you wrote the lyrics

"If I could jump into the past I'd only change one thing, I'd never hurt you first, I'd never let you leave"

Your next song that blew up was called "So American" and once again your boyfriend was the center of that one. This one was written about your first day all those years ago.

"So you're saying that every morning you wake up and choose to eat beans on toast?" Maybe not the best thing to say on a first date but you were so stunned you couldn't hold that in.

"You're so American and it's showing. Yes, I wake up and eat this." He muttered while chuckling "And yes I enjoy it very much."

After breakfast, you guys walked London getting to know each other. And when you were getting dropped off back at your aunt and uncle's house Theo handed you flowers he had bought just moments before and kissed your cheek. Once inside you quickly whipped your phone out texting your best friend:

"Oh god I'm gonna marry him if he keeps this shit up"

"So it went good then?"

"He laughed at all my jokes"

After many years together and many songs written, He had become a safe place for you. When you decided that you were going to go on tour Theo was almost as excited as you. Swearing that he would be at every show. But when his mom got sick he had to take a flight home missing over half the tour, and you couldn't be upset. But in moments like the one you were currently in you selfishly wish that your boyfriend could be right there with you.

"Okay, June you've got this. It's just the biggest show you've ever played. Don't let this psych you out." You looked a little crazy talking to yourself in the mirror like that but that was the least of your worries.

"Wow, Lucky Star. I haven't seen you for a few weeks and you're going crazy, Talking to yourself and all. Should we have you checked out?" Theo had been standing behind you for longer then you had noticed and decided that he should make himself known.

You turned around hopping out of your chair knocking it over in the process as you ran to your boyfriend. You jumped into his calming arms in silence just to make sure this was real.

"what are you doing here?" You uttered just loud enough for him to hear

"You think I would miss your last show?" He raised his eyebrows, smirking, like something was funny.

"what about your mom?"

"She'll be fine for a night although she wishes she could be here" He set you down moving his hands from your waist to your face "Enough about me how do you feel?"

No matter how long they had been dating he never failed to make your heart flutter.

"I'm a little bit nervous"

"I brought you something maybe this can help you calm down" He pulled something out of his pocket

"A keychain?"

He rolled his eyes "Flip it over"

YOU ARE MY LUCKY STAR

"Just so you never forget" He started quickly noticing the tears forming in your eyes "Don't cry you just got your makeup done. What youre gonna do is go out there and kill it like you always do"

✩✩✩✩

"Send her up" You heard in your earpiece as you started getting raised to the stage.

As you came into view all you could hear was cheers.

"Hi! Everyone!"

Cheers

"Thank you all for coming tonight. I know most shows I've stayed true to my setlist but tonight we're gonna switch it up a little bit. As most of you know most of my songs are written about my lovely boyfriend Theodore Nott."

You paused while everyone cheered as you put your guitar on

"Well, he's here tonight for the first show in a little bit so I'm gonna sing his favorite song I've written about him... So this one is called So High School."

With that, you started playing your guitar as the crowd got silent. Looking over to the VIP tent you saw your boyfriend smiling at you with his phone out recording like a proud mother.

"I feel so high school every time I look at you"

✩✩✩✩

[mybutcheredtongue]

I'll Love You 'til the Grass Around My Gravestone is Deceased

post azkaban sirius black x fem!reader

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN (see full series list here)

1994

Two nights before Harry's big Ministry hearing, you sit at the kitchen table with Sirius, talking about nothing in particular, easily slipping into your old routine of sitting and talking with each other for hours on end. No matter who you meet, no matter how long you've known them, there's no one that seems to just get you like he does.

Mrs Weasley wipes down the counters in the kitchen, her usual routine before heading to bed, while her husband fiddles with a Muggle children's toy you'd given him. It's one of those things with the metal balls inside, and you have to shake and tilt it to try and get them to fall into place in the holes, usually on the top of a bottle of bubbles.

"Fascinating!" Mr Weasley exclaims happily, shaking it enthusiastically and watching in wonder as the balls miss every hole completely. "And Muggle children play with this, yes?"

You nod, smiling. "Keeps them entertained for a little while. I never liked them growing up — I was never patient enough.”

He continues to play with the toy, his face the picture of wonder and interest. You're glad he's there, really, because you hate the tension between Sirius and Mrs Weasley ever since Harry's return. Neither one of them have decided to apologise to the other — and though sometimes you think about saying it to Sirius, you feel it really should be Mrs Weasley who apologises, considering the awful things she said about his place as Harry's godfather.

You're still on good terms with Mrs Weasley, despite how her words still sit stinging in the back of your mind, but you'd rather forget about it and move on amicably than suffer through this suffocating awkwardness.

A knock on the kitchen door grabs the attention of the room, and you stand up to answer it, surprised when Dumbledore is on the other side of it.

"Dumbledore!" you exclaim, opening the door wider for him to enter. "Wasn't expecting you tonight."

He steps inside, smiling politely at you. "Yes, I do apologise for coming unannounced… Sirius, I would like a word with you, if you don't mind."

Mrs Weasley drops her cloth into the sink, brushing off her hands and seizing hold of Arthur's arm quickly. "It's getting late, we should be getting to bed. Goodnight, everyone."

"Night," you say to them, watching as they scurry out of the basement kitchen as quick as possible and close it behind them. Glancing between Dumbledore and Sirius, you feel a slight awkwardness creep through you. You clear your throat. "Should I go?"

"No," they say at the same time, eyes focused on each other.

Great.

You mentally prepare yourself for the argument that's bound to begin when these two start talking. You busy yourself in the kitchen, doing nothing really but pretend to look occupied as Sirius starts the conversation.

"Well, what did you want to talk to me about?"

"Harry's hearing on Thursday," Dumbledore replies, as you mindlessly adjust cups in the press without them needing it.

"And? What about it?"

There's a pause, the only noise being you clinking cups against each other aimlessly. "I expect you would like to accompany Harry, but I am afraid I must tell you that I do not think you should."

"I can't say I'm surprised to hear you think that," Sirius says, a slight bitterness lining the edges of his voice. "But I'm sure you understand that I think I should. He's going to a Ministry hearing, he could do with the moral support."

"He will have moral support from Mr Weasley, who will be bringing him to and from his hearing," Dumbledore answers calmly. "It is far too dangerous for you to leave this house, Sirius, even in your animagus form."

"I'll be careful. I just want to help his nerves — "

"I cannot let you," Dumbledore says, more firm this time. "Not only do I think you shouldn't, I know you shouldn't. It is not worth the risk."

You look up as Sirius glances at you, and Dumbledore follows his eyeline expectantly.

"I'll go with him, Sirius, don't worry," you say with a sympathetic smile. You know how much he was looking forward to getting out of the house. "I'll make sure he's alright."

"I am sorry to say I must tell you to stay here as well, professor," Dumbledore says slowly, and you blink at him in confusion.

"I...I don't understand. I'm not on the run, why can't I go with my godson?"

"Suspicions will be raised if you are spotted within the Ministry," Dumbledore says, looking at you. The prolonged eye contact is making you uncomfortable, and you nervously avoid his gaze and focus on the wooden table before you. "It is best that Harry's visit draws as little attention as possible."

"Then I'll wear a disguise," you reply simply.

"As who?"

You bring yourself to meet his eyes, blue and expectant as he silently waits for you to offer an answer: one that you don't have. "As...uh, a Ministry worker bringing him to his hearing, of course."

You think you might imagine the slight surprise that widens Dumbledore's eyes by a fraction, but it's gone when he shakes his head. "Too risky. I direct the two of you to stay here during his hearing, and not to go with him."

You look at Sirius, your eyes communicating every frustration you're currently feeling — he looks the exact same. You're so sick of having arguments and never getting what you want out of them.

You bite your lip, sighing defeatedly. "Right, fine. We'll stay."

✧⁠*⁠。✧⁠*⁠。

After a disgustingly early start on Thursday morning, you wish Harry the best of luck in his hearing and watch as he and Mr Weasley leave the house for the Ministry. You make an effort to keep yourself and Sirius as busy as possible, working on cleaning and redoing the drawing room again.

You run a cloth along the piano, catching the dust and revealing the shiny black surface hiding beneath the grime. You sit down on the bench, pushing it closer to the instrument with your heels and start to play whatever comes to mind, an old classical tune you've forgotten the name of.

When you finish, Sirius comes to join you, placing his hand on your shoulder. "Beautiful. What's it called?"

You shrug, smiling sheepishly at him. "I forget. I'm a bit rusty, to be honest."

"Doesn't sound like that to me," he says, motioning for you to scoot over so he can sit beside you on the bench. "Could you teach me something?"

"You never played?" You say, surprised. "I would've thought this was here for you to play."

Sirius chuckles softly, shaking his head. "It was more my mother. She always wanted me to play, but I refused, of course. Regulus was far better than me — he used to play while she did her embroidery."

You scoff. "Her embroidery? It was the 70s, not the 1800s."

"My parents did not get the memo, apparently." He nudges you with his shoulder, smiling playfully at you. "Come on, teach me something, professor."

You spend the next hour teaching him the basics, gently placing your hands on his and slowly leading him through a simple piece, laughing at the intense look of concentration on his face.

"What are you giggling at?" he says with a grin, looking back at you.

"Nothing, you're just so concentrated," you giggle, beaming.

"Well, it's actually quite difficult, you know...everyone has to start somewhere!" he says in mock offense.

You hum, pouting dramatically at him. "And you're starting off very well." You peck his lips, patting his shoulder as you swing your legs over the bench and stand up. "Come on, Mozart, I think I heard the front door open."

When you enter the kitchen, the atmosphere is very much celebratory as Ron high-fives Harry hard, a great big grin on his face.

"Cleared!" Harry says to you and Sirius, beaming, "of all charges!"

You feel the weight lift from your shoulders and grin at him. "Oh, wonderful, Harry!"

Sirius claps Harry hard on the back, beaming proudly at him. "Knew you'd pull through."

When Harry turns away, however, you don't miss the way Sirius's smile falters and is replaced by a small look of disappointment, before he regains his composure and smiles again. You find his hand and squeeze it comfortingly.

"Listen, you guys, Lucius Malfoy was at the Ministry — " Mr Weasley starts, and you both immediately turn your attention to Arthur.

"What?" you say sharply.

"Yes, we saw him talking to Fudge on level nine, then they went up to Fudge's office together," Mr Weasley replies. "Dumbledore ought to know."

"Absolutely," Sirius says. "We'll tell him, don't worry."

Lucius Malfoy. If Fudge stopped to think for a second why Lucius Malfoy keeps donating so much gold to the Ministry, surely he'd realise that it's not out of the goodness of his lovely pureblood heart?

Dinner passes pleasantly, everyone in high spirits after Harry's great escape from expulsion. Sirius, however, seems more downcast than usual and you're pretty sure you know the reason.

He heads to bed much earlier than everyone else, finishing his meal and bidding everyone goodnight. While everyone else celebrates and chats happily at the table around you, you chew on your lip thoughtfully.

You wait a while before heading up to bed after Sirius, wanting to give him time to himself to think over everything. However, when you open the door to his bedroom you find it empty, and immediately go looking for him. It's only when you enter the master bedroom, where Buckbeak is being kept, that you find your husband, sitting on the floor next to the hippogriff, stroking his feathers absent-mindedly.

"Here you are," you say softly, shutting the door behind you. "Hello, Buckbeak."

Buckbeak cocks his head in your direction curiously, clicking his beak in greeting.

Sirius looks up when you enter, clearing his throat. "Hello."

You make your way over, sitting next to him on the floor. You don't say anything for a few moments, the room quiet and still, before you take a deep breath and start talking. "I know you're disappointed Harry is going away to Hogwarts again."

He doesn't respond, sighing.

"But it was going to happen," you continue, your voice soft and gentle. "That's where he's happiest."

"I know," he says quietly. "I know that. I just...hoped I'd get more time with him. Longer than a few weeks."

You hum, laying your head on his shoulder. "Me too."

"But you'll get to see him anyway," he continues. "Come September, you'll both be gone back to Hogwarts."

You shake your head, offering him a small smile. "I'm not going back to Hogwarts in September, Sirius. I'm staying here."

His expression brightens for a moment, before he seems to remind himself of something and shakes his head. "But you love your job. You're always talking about how much you love teaching."

"I do," you answer truthfully. "But I love you more. I could never live with myself if I knew I had the choice of going back to work or being with you, and I chose my job. I've had a good thirteen years of working there, and I'd like to make up for all the time we have missed out on together instead."

Sirius looks at you as if it's taking every bit of resolve in him to say this. "I want you to go back."

"You don’t seem too convinced.”

He exhales deeply, closing his eyes for a moment. "I want you there, to look out for Harry. To keep him safe."

"Hogwarts is where he's safest, Sirius," you say. "Dumbledore will be there, he knows best how to protect him — "

"But he's not you," he says simply, his eyes serious. "Dumbledore can protect him, sure, but Harry trusts you. He knows he can go to you for anything. I think that's what he needs most this year."

You sigh, kissing your teeth quietly. "I don't want you to be alone."

"But you know I'm right."

You chuckle humourlessly, shaking your head. "I hate it when you're right."

He pulls you into him, kissing your temple. "I know."

✧⁠*⁠。✧⁠*⁠。

"So, any girls, Harry?"

Sirius raises his eyebrows at the boy, everyone else in the room distracted by their own separate conversations and activities. They had previously been discussing Harry's life at the Dursleys, and now Sirius thinks it is high time for him to impart as much (god)fatherly wisdom he can on the lad.

"What?" Harry's face is the picture of confusion.

"You can't tell me there isn't someone you've got your eye on," Sirius continues with a cheeky grin. "Girl, boy, maybe there's more than one — so come on, tell me, what's going on?"

Harry laughs nervously, shaking his head. "There's no one."

Sirius raises his eyebrows at him, unbelieving.

"Okay, there's one girl."

Sirius grins triumphantly, laughing. "I knew it! You make any moves yet?"

"What? No."

"In that case, let me impart some of my endless wisdom," Sirius says theatrically. "Now, Harry, if you're going to listen to anything I say to you now, it best be this: never lie to a woman. Okay? Simple." He brings his hand up to begin listing things off his fingers. "It'll never work, they always know. And if they don't know straight away, they'll find out you lied eventually, and then it'll be even worse for you. It never ends well. I mean — have you ever tried to lie to my wife?"

Harry thinks for a moment, shaking his head. "No?"

"Think again, you're sure you've never lied about your homework or something like that?" Sirius pushes.

Harry thinks again, remembering the time he tried to lie to you about his scar being painful in fourth year. "Wait, I have, actually."

"And did she believe you?"

"No."

Sirius nods gravely. "She is impossible to lie to. I don't know how, but she just sees through it every time — it's impressive, really."

"I hope you're not gossiping about me."

Looking up, Sirius spots you sitting down into the chair beside him, just returning from your guard duty that night.

He smiles. "Never, darling."

You hum, giving him an unimpressed look. "Nice try."

Sirius looks at Harry, raising his eyebrows with a laugh. "See? I told you." He shakes his head, smiling at you. "I've just been giving Harry some advice on girls, that's all."

You snort, giving him an incredulous look. "Girl advice? Sirius, please, you know nothing about women."

"What? I know plenty!" he says defensively, but still in good humour. "I knew enough to get you to marry me."

You smile sympathetically at him, patting his cheek. "That's actually not true, I'm afraid, because I married you for your money."

"Oh, really?"

"Uh-huh."

You look at each other, grinning, before bursting into laughter. When your chuckles finally subside, you look at Harry again. "Seriously, though, Harry, don't listen to Sirius. You don't want to do anything he or your father ever did to get a girl to like them."

"It still worked!" Sirius defends. "We both got to marry the women we loved."

"What did my dad do?" Harry asks curiously, and you laugh.

"What didn't your dad do?" you say. "Actually, do you want to hear the story of how I even became friends with your dad? And Sirius too, by connection — but it was really all James's doing in the end."

"I want to hear this too!" Hermione chimes in, who before had been talking to Remus with Ron.

"What's this?" Remus asks, a curious smile playing on his features.

"How we became friends in fourth year," you explain, and Remus instantly nods in acknowledgment.

"Oh yes, James and his ways."

You clear your throat, grinning. "Now, if I can have your full attention..."

♡*⁠。♡*⁠。

January, 1975

You walk along the corridor, a letter clutched in your hands, making your way to the owlery when a voice calls your name.

You recognise the voice, and with an agitated sigh, you continue walking and ignore it. He calls again, before you hear his footsteps pounding along the floor behind you and he skids to a stop beside you, bumping your shoulder.

"Potter? What do you want?"

James Potter falls into step beside you, grinning, his face red and his glasses askew from running. You can't say you're particularly fond of him, considering how he annoys Lily every single day and bullies her friend, Severus. Any enemy of Lily's is an enemy of yours.

"So quick to anger!" he exclaims dramatically. "So demanding!"

You grit your teeth. "What do you want, James?"

"Listen, listen..." he places a hand on your shoulder, pulling you aside. "Now, you and I haven't always seen eye-to-eye, for reasons unknown — "

You scoff.

" — but despite this, I have a trade — a proposal, if you will — of a lifetime to offer you!"

You raise your eyebrows at him again, thoroughly unimpressed.

"I suggest this — trade me a date with Lily, and I'll send you an invitation to the wedding. Sound good?"

He stretches out his hands, wiggling them theatrically and you burst into derisive laughter, shaking your head.

"Oh...you're funny, James, I'll give you that," you say, moving to walk away when he grabs your arm again.

"Wait, wait, listen to me," he says desperately. "Look, I really like Lily, and you're the only one who can help me. You’re her best friend.”

"What about Alice?"

He frowns, rubbing the back of his neck. "She used some…colourful language to tell me she will not be helping me."

You nod. "Sounds about right." You sigh, rubbing your forehead. "Look, James, if you really like Lily then stop being such an ass about it."

"What?"

"You're too cocky, James, and you're mean," you say. "Just actually talk to her yourself, no bullshit. And let Alice and me get some peace, yeah?" 

You finally manage to leave him now, turning and making your way up to the owlery to post your letter. 

If there's one thing about James Potter, it's that he doesn't know how to follow good advice. Sure, talking to Lily would be all fine and dandy if she wanted anything to do with him, but unfortunately for James, she did not. No, to James, this romance is a multi-level scheme, a plan, and you were key to his success.

The best friend angle, he calls it. If he can convince you that he's a decent guy, good enough to date Lily, you can then convince her to go out with him! All he needs is one teeny, tiny little date and James believes that Lily will fall head-over-heels in love with him, and they'll live happily ever after for years to come. 

But he can't go talking himself up to you — you'd never believe it for a second. So he sends the next best thing: his best friend. 

One morning, on your way to Potions, your bag decides to unceremoniously rip and fall to the ground, sending your belongings skittering along the dungeon floor. 

"Oh, no! Do you want some help?" Alice asks, stopping in her tracks. 

You shake your head, glancing at your watch. "No, it's fine. You'll be late — save me a seat!" 

Alice and Lily quickly head into the classroom while you throw everything back into your bag, cursing at the textbook that's now been covered in ink from one of your inkwells and how you've got dark ink all over your hands now. You repair your bag with a wave of your wand, and hurry into the classroom. 

Professor Horace Slughorn looks at you in surprise as you enter and you smile sheepishly. 

"Sorry, professor, my bag split..."

"Nothing to worry about, my dear! Take a seat," Slughorn booms cheerfully. 

You look around, trying to locate Lily and Alice and the seat they were supposed to have saved you, only to find it's been taken by someone else — conveniently the boy Alice has been pining over for the past few weeks. You stare, betrayed, at Alice, who shrugs and mouths, "I'm sorry!"

You scoff quietly, glaring at the boy and wandering to the only empty seat left, which happens to be right beside Sirius Black. He looks up, raising his eyebrows and smirking at you as you sigh, dropping into the seat beside him. 

"Well, aren't I lucky to have you sit beside me?" 

"Truly." You glance around and click your tongue thoughtfully. "Trouble in paradise, Sirius? Looks like your girlfriend kicked you out."

You point at James, who is sitting beside Peter and Remus on the other side of the room.

"Is there something wrong with wanting to sit with someone new?" Sirius says, lowering his voice as Slughorn begins his teaching. "A very pretty someone, might I add."

"Save it for James," you mutter, unimpressed. This isn't the first time Sirius has tried his charms on you, and you're not in the mood for it right now. 

"Today we will be brewing a hair-raising potion," Slughorn says, smiling happily at the students. "Now, we'll start by chopping up 5 grams of porcupine quills — "

"Speaking of James..." Sirius starts, ignoring Slughorn. "What do you think of him? What are your thoughts?"

"I think he's a git." You turn pointedly away from him, focusing on Slughorn again. You give him a confused look when you notice he's not paying attention to Slughorn at all. "Don't you want to find out how to brew this potion?"

He shrugs casually. "I've already made it before, it's not difficult."

Though you really want to ignore him and listen to Slughorn, your curiosity gets the best of you and you turn to him again. "Why have you made a hair-raising potion before?"

He grins at you. "We put it in Filch's goblet on Halloween. Although, we may have gotten some measurements wrong — "

"That was you?" You say in disbelief, a shocked laugh escaping your lips. "You're the reason Filch lost half his hair?" 

"Well, me and James — and also Peter and Remus," he replies, grinning proudly. 

You sigh, shaking your head with an amused smile. "Right. Well…I haven't made it before, so if you don't mind, I'd like to listen to my teacher now."

" — next, add the rat tails slowly, mixing the potion counter-clockwise as the tails are added, and it should turn to this sort of blue colour — cerulean, I would say...or perhaps it is more of a sky blue — " 

"Really, though, about James..." Sirius interrupts quietly, distracting you again. "He's a good guy. Got a good heart, a real romantic. Don't you want Lily to go out with someone who really cares about her?"

You scoff. "Did James set you up for this? Seriously? He's more desperate than I thought -- "

"Which just shows how much he cares," Sirius says, ever the loyal friend. 

"It shows how much of a coward he is," you hiss, your face the picture of attention when Slughorn's gaze flits to your desk to make sure you're listening. "He's too scared to talk to Lily himself."

"Because she hates him!" He sighs, looking at you, eyes big and pleading. "You just need to get to know him, then you'll see — what about this? Hang out with us tomorrow. Spend the whole day with us, and then tell me what you think."

You raise your eyebrows at him, shaking your head. 

"Unless..." a smirk tugs at his lips. "Unless you're scared of being wrong. Scared that you might actually like us."

And, despite knowing that this is definitely not worth your time, despite knowing that he only said that to goad you, you bite. 

"Fine. One day, that's all you get," you relent, and Sirius grins triumphantly. "But — if I don't like him by the end of it, you have to do my potions homework for a month!"

"Done." He holds his hand out for you to shake, grinning smugly at you, and you take it, letting go quickly. "And when I say the whole day, I mean the whole day. You can't go running off to Lily and Alice at all, you're stuck with us."

You give him a pained smile, gritting your teeth. "Can't wait."

♡*⁠。♡*⁠。

"You make me sound so bad in that story," Sirius complains when you finish and you laugh.

"That's how you were!" you defend. "Right, Remus?" 

Remus smiles appreciatively, nodding. "I'm afraid so."

"Did it work?" Hermione asks curiously. "What did you think of James by the end of it?" 

You laugh, grinning at her. "Oh, nothing changed, and Sirius had to do my Potions work for the month, as agreed" — Sirius rolls his eyes " — but I did have a lot of fun, and we became friends. By fifth year, we were all as thick as thieves." 

"Did you really not like my dad?" Harry says, brows furrowed. 

You give him a reassuring smile, shaking your head. "Not at the beginning, no. Lily didn't like him, so I didn't like him either. But after that torturous day spent with the lot of them, he really grew on me and now I can't picture Lily with anyone else. You really wouldn't meet another couple more perfect for each other."

"Except for us, of course," Sirius adds. 

You nod, an obvious look on your face. "Oh, obviously. We are unbeatable." You tap your chin thoughtfully, racking your brains for another story to tell. "What else can I tell you..."

"How about the time you punched Lucius Malfoy?" Remus offers, casually taking a sip from his goblet. 

The trio's jaws drop, and you turn and stare at Remus accusingly, who smiles innocently at you over his goblet. 

Sirius laughs beside you. "An excellent story!"

You shake your head frantically, glaring at Remus. "I really don't think this is the story they need to hear — "

"We wanna hear it!" Harry says, grinning and nodding at his two friends. 

"I — I don't even remember — "

"I do," Sirius says, smirking at you. He clears his throat dramatically. "Your godmother hated Lucius Malfoy at school, Harry. Absolutely hated him, and for good reason too, 'cause he was a prick — but one day he was picking on her, trying to wind her up, and he said something bad about Lily and bam, she just punched him right in the middle of Herbology, no hesitation."

Harry, Ron, and Hermione stare at you in shock and you wince, shaking your head. "That makes me sound awful."

"One of the best days of my life," Sirius says with a proud grin. "You broke his nose, didn't you?" 

"Yep," you nod, kissing your teeth. "Got myself a month's worth of detention, too. Professor McGonagall was furious with me."

"Wicked," Ron says in awe. 

"You should've seen the look on his face," Sirius continues gleefully. "He was too afraid to speak to her for weeks."

You shake your head vigorously. "I'd like to stop talking about this."

"Oh, stop pretending like you regret it," Sirius says with a scoff, laughing. "You're proud of it — and you should be, he needed to be taken down a peg."

"Oh, well…” you glance at Remus. “At least I didn't eat a butterfly."

Remus stares back at you in shock, his cheeks reddening. "I was six! And I told you that in confidence!"

"You...you ate a butterfly?" Harry repeats and Remus hangs his head in shame. 

"I'm not proud of it. It was an accident and I cried for a month after it happened. I...I can never look at butterflies the same."

You and Sirius burst into laughter, while Remus scowls, his face a dark shade of crimson.

He gives Sirius an accusatory look. "You can't say anything, Sirius, when you only took O.W.L. Astronomy because she was taking it."

You snort, looking at Sirius in surprise. "Really? I thought you liked it."

"Hated it," Sirius admits. "I thought it'd be nice and easy, looking at stars and planets and all that but it was actually pretty difficult, and you loved it — you used to go on these long excited rambles about astronomy and I never had any idea what you were talking about."

"I really thought you liked it!" you say sheepishly. "If you didn't like it, why didn't you tell me? Could've escaped my rambles."

He shrugs, smiling at you. "I liked hearing you talk."

You raise your eyebrows, folding your arms. "Didn't like hearing me talk when you put that potion in the showers, did you?"

Remus and Sirius grin at each other. 

"It's not like you were the only target!" Sirius says defensively, still laughing. 

"What?" Harry asks, puzzled, and you give the chortling Sirius a shove. 

"The boys thought they were so funny." You scowl at Remus, though you don't really mean it. "One day, they slipped a potion into the Gryffindor showers that caused anyone who used them to have to walk around with a giant bubble around their head for the rest of the day. It was awful."

Ron and Harry start laughing and you sigh, shaking your head. 

"It was very funny, to be fair," Sirius says cheekily and you roll your eyes. 

"Oh, shut it." 

You, Sirius, and Remus spend the rest of the evening telling the kids the best stories of your school days, and your chest burns from laughter by the end of it. 

"Remember the night we snuck out?"

"Or when James sneezed and nearly fell off his broom!"

"You can't forget the time Alice tripped, fell into Flitwick, and knocked him over!" 

When Mrs Weasley finally puts a stop to your story-telling and makes the kids go to bed, you linger, sitting contentedly between Sirius and Remus. You drape your arms across their shoulders, pulling them into you with a sigh. "I love you two, you know that? I don't know what I'd do without you."

You mean it, too. You're so happy to be back to some semblance of normal, where you get to see Sirius every day and wake up next to him after so long apart, where you finally get to tell people these stories without worrying about what they'll think, where you get to laugh and joke with Remus and talk about nothing at all. 

You're with your family again.

✧⁠*⁠。✧⁠*⁠。

“I thought we’d have a little party, not a sit-down dinner,” Mrs Weasley says cheerfully, as she hangs a scarlet banner over the dinner table that reads: Congratulations Ron and Hermione — New Prefects.

The kids had received their book lists this morning, the last day of the summer holidays,  which you find quite odd as the book list is usually out far earlier in the year. With the lists, Ron and Hermione had received shiny new prefect badges and Mrs Weasley has been on cloud nine ever since. When you joined her in Diagon Alley to get everyone’s books and supplies, she talked and talked of how proud she is of her youngest son and how wonderful it is that he was chosen. You think it’s sweet.

The town was bustling of course, with parents and children scrambling to get their books and school supplies before the term starts. You met several of your students and their parents and stopped many times to chat and catch up with them – even spending a good while talking to Neville and his grandmother, who has always struck you as an interesting woman. She was one of the few people who had actually trusted you after Sirius’s imprisonment and always appreciates the time you spend visiting Frank and Alice in St Mungo’s.

“Your father and Bill are on the way, Ron, I’ve sent them both owls and they’re thrilled.”

The table is piled high with food and drink, the room buzzing with celebration and cheer. Remus approaches you and Sirius, goblets in hand for the both of you. 

“All set for tomorrow, then?” he asks you, handing you your goblet. 

“Think so,” you answer with a shrug, taking a sip from your wine. “I’m glad I went to Diagon Alley weeks ago, it was absolutely mad today — all the good parchment and quills were gone.”

Nearby, Moody sets his normal eye on Ron and growls, “Prefect, eh? Well, congratulations. Authority figures always attract trouble, but I suppose Dumbledore thinks you can withstand most major jinxes or he wouldn’t have appointed you…”

Ron looks quite startled at this view and quickly leaves to go welcome Arthur and Bill Weasley, who have just arrived, accompanied by Mundungus in a weirdly lumpy overcoat that he seems adamant to keep on — no doubt housing another unique business venture in his pockets.

“Well, I think a toast is in order,” Mr Weasley announces, once everyone has a drink. He raises his goblet, beaming. “To Ron and Hermione, the new Gryffindor prefects!”

You grin at the pair of them, drinking to them and then applauding. As you reach for something to eat on the table, you beam at the pair of them. “Congrats, you two. I was never a prefect myself, that was Lily’s job — our teachers reckoned I wasn’t a good fit.”

“Why did they think that?” Ginny asks curiously. 

“‘Cause I found rules impossible to follow.”

Ginny laughs, and Hermione looks unsure of whether she should smile or frown at this, and instead chooses to take a large gulp from her butterbeer and chokes on it. 

“What about you, Sirius?” Ginny says, thumping the coughing Hermione on the back. 

Sirius lets out a bark of laughter, shaking his head. “No one would have made me a prefect, I spent too much time in detention with James. Remus was the good boy, he got the badge.”

“I think Dumbledore might have hoped that I would be able to exercise some control over my best friends,” says Remus. “I need scarcely say that I failed dismally.”

Soon, Ron is gushing about his new broom to anyone who’ll listen. His mother had bought him a broomstick as a present for his new status. “Nought to seventy in ten seconds, not bad, is it? When you think the Comet Two-Ninety only does nought to sixty and that’s with a decent tailwind according to Which Broomstick?”

“Why didn’t Dumbledore make Potter a prefect?” Kingsley Shacklebolt is saying quietly to Remus, though his deep voice is audible even in chatter. 

“He’ll have had his reasons,” Remus replies. 

“But it would’ve shown confidence in him. It’s what I’d’ve done,” Kingsley continues. “Especially with the Daily Prophet having a go at him every few days…”

You think that perhaps it’s best to keep Harry out of the limelight as much as possible. Your heart aches with sympathy for him — an orphan boy raised with his spiteful relations, without any knowledge of the wizarding world until his eleventh birthday, and then being thrust into a world where everyone knows his name and his story better than he does. A boy who met two different versions of Voldemort in his first two years, then watched him come back to life at fourteen, and witnessed the death of his classmate. A boy who is currently being vilified by the media and the government simply for telling the truth, and a boy who has to live in fear for his life all because he survived death as a baby. 

At the end of the day, he’s just a boy. He’s just a child. 

If you could take it all on for him, you would. You would do it in a heartbeat. 

“You alright?”

Sirius taps the tip of your nose gently with his finger, looking inquisitively at you. You shake yourself out of the thoughtful daze you had gotten yourself in, and smile at him. 

“Perfect. Just thinking, that’s all.” 

“About what?” 

You glance at Harry out of the corner of your eye, who catches your eye and looks away quickly, acting as though he wasn’t eavesdropping as he makes his way over to Moody. You turn back to Sirius, placing your hands in the back pockets of your jeans with a shrug. “D’you remember all the things the prefects used to get? The fancy baths in the bathroom, the private compartment on the train, the mitching class for meetings…”

“Didn’t need to be a prefect for the last one, did we?” Sirius says with a cheeky grin, and you chuckle. 

“Well, we certainly didn’t, no.”

After a while, everyone begins to filter out of the basement and upstairs to their beds. You follow Moody as he hobbles down the hallway towards the doorway. 

“You’re welcome to stay, y’know,” you whisper, conscious of the sleeping portraits on the wall. 

Moody leans on his staff with both hands, raising his eyebrows at you. “And wait for that house-elf of yours to strangle me in my sleep? No thanks.”

You snort, scoffing. “If Kreacher was going to strangle anyone in their sleep, what makes you think it’d be you?” 

“I’ve seen the looks he gives me — there’s murderous intent in those eyes,” Moody growls, good eye wide in warning. 

Sirius shrugs. “He has that intent for everyone, trust me — “

He stops as a muffled yell is heard from upstairs, and without hesitating you sprint up the stairs to the drawing room with Sirius, Moody, and Remus following close behind you.

“What’s going on?” 

Running into the room, you freeze when you spot Mrs Weasley cowering in the corner of the room, her hand trembling violently as she points her wand at a figure in the middle of the room: Harry, lying dead on the carpet. 

Remus pulls out his wand immediately, saying, “Riddikulus!”

Harry’s body vanishes, replaced by a shiny full moon hovering in the centre of the room. Remus waves his wand once more and the moon vanishes. 

Mrs Weasley breaks into a fit of sobbing, her face in her hands as her body shakes. 

“Molly,” Remus says bleakly, striding over to her, “Molly, don’t…”

You stare at the patch of carpet where the boggart pretending to be Harry’s lifeless body had just been, fighting the urge to vomit.

“It was just a boggart,” Remus says soothingly as Mrs Weasley buries her head in his shoulder, sobbing. “Just a stupid boggart…”

“I see them d-d-dead all the time!” she cries into his shoulder. “All the t-time! I d-dream about it!”

You force yourself to tear your eyes off the carpet, shaking your head to remove the image of Harry dead, but it sticks sickeningly permanent in your mind despite your efforts. Looking around, you see the real, alive Harry standing, panting, at the side of the room. You feel a rush of relief at the sight of him alive. 

“D-don’t tell Arthur,” Mrs Weasley chokes, rubbing her eyes desperately with her sleeve. “I d-don’t want him to know…being silly…”

Remus hands her a handkerchief and she blows her nose loudly. 

“Harry, I’m so sorry, what must you think of me?” she says shakily. “Not even able to get rid of a boggart…”

“Don’t be stupid,” Harry says with a weak smile. 

“I’m just s-so worried,” she says, tears streaming down her face. “Half the f-family’s in the Order, it’ll b-be a miracle if we all come through this…and P-Percy’s not talking to us…what if something d-dreadful happens and we had never m-made up? And what’s going to happen if Arthur and I get killed, who’s g-going to look after Ron and Ginny?” 

“Molly, that’s enough,” Remus says firmly. “This isn’t like the last time. The Order is better prepared, we’ve got a head start, we know what Voldemort’s up to…”

She gives a squeak of fright at the name. 

“Oh, Molly, come on, it’s about time you got used to hearing it — look, I can’t promise no one’s going to get hurt, nobody can promise that, but we’re much better off than we were last time. You weren’t in the Order then, you don’t understand, last time we were outnumbered twenty to one by the Death Eaters and they were picking us off one by one…”

“Don’t worry about Percy,” you add gently. “He’ll come round. He’s still young and he hasn’t gotten the chance to realise that he needs his family more than his job yet.”

“And as for who’s going to look after Ron and Ginny if you and Arthur died,” Remus says, smiling slightly, “what do you think we’d do, let them starve?”

Mrs Weasley gives a watery smile. “Being silly.”

“Come on, Molly, why don’t you come downstairs and let me make you a cup of tea to help you relax?” you offer soothingly, leading her out of the drawing room. 

When you slip into bed some twenty minutes later, sleep escapes you for quite some time. The image of Harry’s unmoving body burns in your mind, a seed of worry gnawing at your gut. You dream of Harry’s corpse on the drawing room carpet and of Cedric’s lifeless face on the dewy grass of the quidditch pitch.

✧⁠*⁠。✧⁠*⁠。

-> all kinds of interaction appreciated ♡

thank you for all your patience, I know this chapter was a little slower than usual to come out. also sorry to anyone who read like half of this chapter because I accidentally posted it before it was finished and didn't realise for ages. love you all <33

HUGE thank you to my incredible taglist lovelies:

@mothraantics @wholelottalove05 @izuoyarmin @devoid-swanky @carpe000diem @mooonyxoxo @hyperspeedo @idkman5335 @elanna-elrondiel @murielisacertifieddilf @penelopied @jennifer0305 @imgondeletedis @wooyoungsrightsock @wolfdragon0424

[television-overload]

fate is the handspike

(an X-Files ficlet)

[Read on AO3]

Summary:

Starting on February 23, 1964, Teena Mulder begins to worry about her young son. At first, she thinks maybe he's wishing for a little sister, a wish that will be granted very soon. But he insists the little girl he talks to is called Dana, and she's too little to play, but she likes when he reads his books to her.

(fic below the cut)

i.

At first, Teena thinks it's cute.

"She's just a baby, mommy, she can't play yet," he'd say.

"Oh, is that right?" she'd reply, indulging him in his childish fantasies. Perhaps this was his way of asking for a sister. The other moms in the neighborhood often urged her to give Fox a sibling, citing a child's need for company and social engagement, but Fox had always seemed so happy to play alone. She's not on the best of terms with her husband at the moment, either, which complicates things.

But then there's times when she sees Fox on the floor, legs splayed out before him as he recites his favorite picture books to his imaginary friend, and she wonders if she ought to be worried. Just a little.

Dr. Seuss, Curious George, Clifford the Big Red Dog... The boy has a photographic memory. Though he's too young to properly read, he has a grasp on the basic plots and recounts them in great detail, turning the pages as he goes.

"This one is called 'Where the Wild Things Are,' Dana," he says, because his friend's name—he insists—is Dana. He turns the book in his hand and shows the colorful illustration on the cover to a patch of carpet on the living room floor. "Don't worry, it's not scary," he assures her. Her. It. Whatever it is he's spent his days talking to since late February.

When he tells the story, he uses his own name, instead of 'Max.' That's how she'd always read it to him, and that's the only way he knows.

"And Fox told the monsters to be still!" he narrates with enthusiasm. "He used a magic trick and looked right in their BIG yellow eyes, and they were all scared. They said Fox is the most wild thing of all, and they made him king!"

ii.

There was one night when she'd woken to find Fox standing in the corner of his room, speaking softly to the wall.

"Shh, it's okay, Dana," he soothed in his little voice. "Here, I'll sing you a song. Twinkle twinkle little star...."

She never tells Bill what she's seen. He's always too busy to notice himself. But others know.

"He's quite an imaginative young fellow," Spender notes, taking a draw from his cigarette as Fox rolls around in the grass outside the house in Quonochontaug. Since "Dana" learned to crawl, he's been even more preoccupied than usual. He shows her all his toys, tells her the names of all his action figures. He announces to his mother one day that he's going to teach Dana how to walk. That she can only stand on her own for a little bit right now, but she doesn't cry anymore when she falls down.

Bill, if he ever catches wind of this, must think he's talking about one of the other kids from Teena's ladies' group. But there's no "Dana" in this neighborhood. Not on the Vineyard, either. She's checked.

iii.

The day she finds out she's pregnant, a part of her wonders. Though her knowledge of her husband's work is small, she knows enough to gather that things she might have thought impossible, could in fact be possible. Perhaps her son had been having visions of his baby sister, long before she was even conceived. Maybe it had simply been a sign that he would one day be a big brother. Soon.

She'd long since dispelled thoughts of ghosts and hauntings and exorcisms.

He tells Dana all about the baby in mommy's tummy. He giggles and makes silly faces, pausing in between sentences, which she gathers must mean his friend has developed the ability to speak.

"Mommy, she said my name! That's right! Fox! Fox!"

iv.

When Samantha is born, "Dana" seems to disappear overnight. This, at least, supports her theory that he had simply been preparing himself for a new sibling, and after a few years, she's completely dismissed the issue. Fox shows no other signs of strange or unusual behavior. He is nothing but a doting big brother, who occasionally gets annoyed by his freckle-faced kid sister, as any brother is wont to do. He reads to her, plays games with her, watches the television with her. They're two peas in a pod, and not once does the name "Dana" escape his lips. She is all but forgotten.

Until he's twelve years old. Samantha is gone, and Teena lacks the patience to deal with his questioning.

"Mom? Does the name 'Dana' mean anything to you?" he asks.

"What? Of course not, Fox, why would you ask such a thing?"

He looks down at his feet, shoulders slumping. "No reason. Forget I asked."

v.

When Fox lays awake at night, the bedroom next to his now dull and empty, he thinks he can hear a voice. It isn't Samantha's—though he'd thought so at first.

"By heaven, man," she reads, "we are turned round and round in this world, like yonder windlass, and Fate is the handspike. And all the time, lo! that smiling sky, and this unsounded sea!"

What does this girl know about fate? What does she know of this upside-down world?

"Read the next chapter, Dana!" he hears another girl's voice speak. The words are faint—muffled—like he's underwater. But her voice is clear.

He falls asleep, like most nights, listening to the tales of Ahab and Starbuck, and a great white whale.

-.-.-

Tag List ♡: @today-in-fic @agent-troi @baronessblixen @captainsolocide @cutemothman @deathsbestgirl @edierone @enigmaticxbee @figureofdismay @frogsmulder @hippocampouts @invidiosa @numinousmysteries @randomfoggytiger @skelavender @teenie-xf @thursdayinspace

[nayziiz]

Team Dynamics | LN4

Summary: To celebrate the launch of their 2024 car for the upcoming F1 season, McLaren hosts a masquerade gala event that sees two souls connect and lead to a whirlwind romance. Unfortunately, the pair realise soon after that they are to work together quite closely after they agreed it would only be a one-night thing.

Warnings: Smut, alcohol, one night stand, unprotected sex

Pairing: Gemma (I don't like writing with Y/N or reader) x Lando Norris

Series Masterlist

PART 3

In the weeks leading up to the first race of the season, Lando finds himself grappling with the persistent presence of Gemma in his thoughts. Her green eyes linger in his dreams, and the echo of her laughter plays in his mind when he's out with friends. Despite their agreement to keep things casual and without strings, Lando can't help but entertain fleeting fantasies about what it would be like if Gemma were more than just a one-night stand.

The memory of their night together lingers, the allure of her company and the connection they shared leaving an indelible mark on his psyche. He wonders about the possibility of Gemma being more than just a passing moment in his life. The prospect of having her around as a girlfriend begins to stir a longing within him, a desire for something more profound than their initial agreement.

For Gemma, the morning after their night together was marked by a quiet departure from Lando's penthouse. She slips back into the dress from the previous night, leaving his clothes neatly folded on the coffee table. In a subtle yet deliberate gesture, she folds her panties and places them on top of his clothes—a silent reminder of their shared intimacy. They part ways without exchanging numbers, and Lando realises that he didn't even catch her last name.

As Lando wakes up to an empty room, the disappointment is palpable, tempered only by the acknowledgment of the agreement they made. The absence of contact details and the mystery surrounding Gemma's identity create a void, a lingering question mark that tugs at his curiosity. Yet, he respects the unspoken terms of their encounter, acknowledging that some connections are meant to be fleeting, existing in the realm of memories rather than in the unfolding chapters of his life.

“Mate, you’re so distracted.” Max, Lando’s best friend, comments as they sit in Lando’s Monaco apartment playing video games.

“I think I’ve met the girl of my dreams.” Lando responds.

“Just because she slept with you?” Max chuckles.

“No, not because of that. You didn’t see her. She was stunning, mate. Prettiest girl I’ve ever seen. And, she’s funny, like genuinely funny without even trying. You should have seen how unimpressed she was with the penthouse, like it didn’t bother her.” Lando explains to his friend who pauses their game.

“Why don’t you just ask her out on a date?” Max suggests.

“We agreed for it to be just a one night thing.” Lando sighs as he throws his head back into the couch. “I don’t even have her number.”

“You’re so stupid.” Max comments as he pulls out his phone and opens his Instagram app. “What did you say her name was?”

“Gemma.” Lando replies.

As Max opens the McLaren Instagram feed and navigates to the following list, Lando's curiosity is piqued. The search for Gemma's name yields only two results. Max clicks on the first profile, and after a quick glance, Lando shakes his head, indicating that it's not the Gemma he's looking for.

They move on to the second profile, and as Lando inspects the screen, a subtle flicker of recognition crosses his face. Max hands over his phone, and Lando takes it in his hand, scrolling through the girl's feed. Intrigued, he clicks on a post, hoping to find more clues about the enigmatic Gemma and perhaps uncover a connection that goes beyond the one unforgettable night they shared. The screen illuminates with snippets of her life, offering a glimpse into the world that Gemma inhabits outside the confines of that memorable evening.

“This is her.” Lando breathes and keeps scrolling.

As Lando scrolls through Gemma's social media feed, he's met with a mosaic of her life. The racing gear and karting photos stand out prominently, depicting a passionate and skilled side of Gemma that resonates with his own racing world. The adrenaline-filled snapshots capture her in her element, surrounded by the machinery and thrill that defines the racing lifestyle.

Interwoven with the racing theme are numerous stand-up paddling photos, showcasing Gemma's versatility and love for outdoor activities. The images paint a picture of a dynamic and adventurous spirit, someone who embraces challenges and finds joy in the simplicity of nature.

Beyond the racetrack and the paddleboard adventures, there are glimpses of Gemma's social life. Posts with friends at bars and restaurants capture the moments of camaraderie and shared laughter. Family also holds a special place in her life, evident in the photos celebrating birthdays of loved ones. The snapshots offer a multifaceted view of Gemma—a racer, an adventurer, a socialite, and a family-oriented individual.

As Lando delves into Gemma's digital world, the distance between them seems to shrink, unveiling layers of her personality that go beyond their brief encounter. Each post becomes a fragment of a larger narrative, and Lando finds himself drawn deeper into the mystery and allure of Gemma's life, contemplating the possibility of reconnecting with her beyond the confines of a single night.

“She is quite pretty.” Max concludes as he tries to sneak a glance at the screen.

“Gemma Mayfield.” Lando adds. “I didn’t even get her last name, if I’m being honest.”

“Why don’t you follow her and see what happens?” Max suggests.

Lando nods and pulls up Gemma’s Instagram account on his own phone and clicks on the follow button.

As Gemma enjoys brunch with her girlfriends, the animated chatter and laughter fill the air. Amidst the delightful ambiance, her phone emits a soft notification sound, capturing her attention. She unlocks her phone, curious about the interruption, and opens Instagram to find a new follower notification.

To her surprise, she sees Lando's name on the screen, signalling that he has just started following her. The realisation brings a spark of intrigue to Gemma's eyes, a subtle but undeniable acknowledgment of the connection forged during that unforgettable night. The familiar features of Lando's profile picture and the digital confirmation of his interest draw her into a moment of contemplation, wondering what this unexpected digital connection might signify and where it could lead.

Her friends, oblivious to the Instagram notification, continue their lively brunch conversation as Gemma, with a hint of a smile playing on her lips, delves into the exploration of this newfound connection that bridges the gap between their worlds, even if only in the virtual realm.

“Why is Lando Norris following you?” Ashley, Gemma’s friend, asks as she peers at Gemma’s phone.

“We met last week at the gala.” Gemma explains and locks her screen again.

“A week ago and he still remembers your name?” Ashley retorts.

“Don’t be silly.” Gemma chuckles.

“Clearly you made an impression.” Her friend comments as they sip their mimosas.

“It’s probably just my panties on his dresser reminding him about me, nothing else.”

“Excuse me?” Ashley gasps. “Your panties?”

“We hooked up. Nothing special.” Gemma shrugs.

“You slept with Lando Norris, the Lando Norris.” Ashley states in disbelief.

“It’s not a big deal. We were drunk and fooling around. We said it would be a one night thing.” Gemma explains.

“Yeah, one night thing, but now he’s all up on your Instagram and probably looking at all your posts so he can see you again.” Ashley counters.

“Is that weird? For like a hook-up to follow you on Instagram?” Gemma wonders.

“It's a little weird, but maybe he likes you and is trying to get your attention.” Ashley responds. “Follow him back and see what happens.”

“Did you forget about the fact that I’ve just come out of a relationship? I can’t open myself up to someone only to get hurt again.” Gemma counters.

“Babe, Lucas never loved you the way you deserved. Maybe it’s time to acknowledge the signs that are very much there and take a leap of faith.” Ashley suggests.

Their conversation is interrupted by Gemma's phone ringing from an unknown number. Excusing herself from the table, Gemma heads to a quieter spot to answer the call, leaving Ashley with a lingering sense of curiosity about the unfolding dynamics between Gemma and the famous Formula 1 driver.

“Gemma speaking, hello.” She speaks into the phone.

“Hi, Gemma. This is Zak Brown.” Zak replies. “I hope you’re well.”

“Mr Brown. I’m doing well, thank you. I hope you are too.”

“Oh, I could be better. That’s why I’m calling.” Zak states.

“How can I assist, sir?” Gemma asks, confused and still surprised by the caller.

“One of Oscar’s trackside data analysts has unfortunately fallen ill and won’t be able to work for the foreseeable future. We’ve heard some great reviews on your work back at the factory and were wondering if you’d be up to join us in the paddock starting in Bahrain?” Zak proposes. “With all travel and accommodation costs covered. And, a salary increase, of course.”

“That’s very unexpected.” Gemma breathes.

“I thought it would be. I’ll have my assistant email you the contract and you can let us know what your decision is, but we’ll need to know by tomorrow morning so we can make the necessary arrangements.” Zak explains.

“Thank you, I’ll keep an eye out for that.” Gemma agrees.

They end the phone call and Gemma returns to her friends. Ashley shoots her a questioning look.

“They want me to work trackside.” Gemma tells Ashley.

“See, signs. Everywhere. Just signs. This is your time to shine, Gem-bug.” Ashley responds, her excitement evident.

When Gemma returns to her apartment, she grabs her laptop and easily finds the email with the contract in her inbox. She prints it out and reads through it. After pacing around her living room for a few hours reading and rereading the contract, she digitally signs the contract and emails it back to Zak’s assistant.

The following morning, she receives her plane tickets and itinerary for the Bahrain Grand Prix just a week away. She sits on the couch in her small apartment and realises that she’ll have to face Lando at some point and decides to follow him back on Instagram. She knows it was her idea for their exchange to be a one night thing only, but not even her ex-boyfriend was so kind and gentle with her like Lando was. She could still feel his fingers and his kisses on her skin when doing simple things around her apartment like washing up the dishes or doing the laundry. For the first time that night, she was looked after as opposed to being the one looking after those around her.

[kpopscruggles]

Kiss Me Thru The Phone : S.M.

Word Count : 3,894

Genre : Smut, Fluff

Warnings : (this ain’t a warning but Mingi x chubby reader) mingi pov mainly, Sexual Content, Mature Language, panty stealing and sniffing, praise, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it, the world already overpopulated) Mingi is basically in love with you, squint of alcohol, Yeosang name is mentioned as an ex

Summary : Mingi is in love with the his long life friend, he also loves her body more than anything. After his friend gets out of another shitty relationship he expects it to happen again till she texts him one night.

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

"You think he's a good guy, right?" Your question only made Mingi pause as he looked away from the TV. Now the movie night wasn't going according to plan. You had been talking to this guy that Mingi was far from liking; he felt the male didn't treat you well. He was also just jealous that the guy had the guts to reach you first. His blood boiled; in fact, he hadn't come to terms with the fact that someone else could take you from him, and it almost made him want to cry.

"I mean, I think he treats you well," and he wasn't wrong; he just felt like the guy didn't do everything for you, like the things you wanted him to accompany you on; usually the guy would back out last minute, but when you two were together, he could see how the guy put a smile on your face. Yeosang, that was him—the guy he dreaded seeing every time he walked into your front door. "But aren't you guys just talking right now? I do feel like he's, well, around a lot".

Mingi could feel himself shivering just thinking of how you'd react to his response; he never wanted you to be mad at him. This explains why he never gave his true opinion much when it came to Yeosang. "I think he's really sweet; you're right though, we are just talking, but I think he's about to ask me on a date". Part two, dating, was something Mingi didn't have the heart to hear about, so he began to slowly distance himself from reality again.

Mingi had been with you forever, ever since you guys were little. He always found you kind and sweet, but as filthy as it probably sounds—perverted, to be exact. It wasn't until puberty hit that he began to develop a crush—a hard one at that. Watching how your chest grew, even noticing it more when you wear tank tops during the summer. By the time you guys reached ninth grade, on that summer vacation where you wore the bikini, they'd grown even more.

When you got comfortable wearing just a T-shirt and the smallest shorts you could find, was that on purpose? He always wondered but, of course, never dared to ask. His favorite part was how everything on your body had grown a bit chunkier over the years; how he imagined gripping your thighs and watching the flesh ooze slightly between his fingers; how your pudge would show through your bottoms.

You were in his dreams, in his thoughts, and definitely in his imagination. "So you like him?" you questioned, and Mingi let out a sigh before shrugging his shoulders. "Sure. I don't see why not." No. He hated his guts and would always hate his guts.

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

Over the next few weeks, of course, Mingi was by your side, especially when, of course, Yeosang ghosted you after you rejected him for sex. This had happened a few times, but Mingi didn't mind going through it with you because that meant he was the one to build you up and put you back on your feet. He began coming over a lot more; it was perfect.

going out on late-night walks. "You know, I can't even believe I fell for that." You chuckled. "You have a nice smile," he added before looking off into the street and hearing you chuckle, "Thanks, Mingi". That was it—an absolute fail. Sometimes Mingi felt like he was far from your type, so even if he had told you straight to your face that he liked you, you probably wouldn't even notice. No, he couldn't talk to you like that; he couldn't degrade you in any way; his heart just wouldn't allow it.

"There's a party this weekend; a friend of mine from high school is throwing a birthday party, so we should go." Was this an invitation? Of course it was. He turned back to you before nodding, "Really? We don't necessarily party though" he chuckled "I mean, you don't have to go; I just thought it would be fun".

Was he going to end up going? Probably not. If he had gotten an invitation from the person, then sure, but he didn't, so he wasn't going to stress about it. "I'll pass this time, but I promise that next time I get an invitation from you, I'll go." He smiled before giving her a hug. He felt bad, but he was sure you'd have fun without him.

Getting back to your place, he sat down with you on your bed as you both scrolled through your phone. "Mingi, do you think I'm hot? Would you like to sleep with me? If we weren't friends, of course.". He paused. What kind of question was that, and what kind of answer was he supposed to give? He cleared his throat, and he panicked as he could feel his cheeks and ears grow hot. He knew he was blushing like an idiot, and he couldn't even help but smile.

"To be honest, yeah," he added before getting rid of his smile and letting out a small chuckle. "Strange question, but yeah is the answer," he went on before going back to his phone while hearing you laugh a little. He sat there for a moment, staring at the same Tiktok. He was blank. Now his thoughts were running a marathon in his head, maybe even faster than the butterflies in his stomach.

You had never asked him a question like that. He cleared his throat once again before getting up to go to the bathroom. Shutting the door, he immediately let out a sigh. He had to remove these thoughts from his head. Walking to the sink, he paused, feeling his spine tingle slightly at the aching feeling in his chest. Taking a breath, he peaked into his sweats, his cock slowly oozing a bead of cumin, his top a bright pink hat he knew would turn into an irritated red soon.

He let out a whimper as he let his pointer finger swipe the cum from his tip. He began to pant slightly, saying, If I'm quiet, I can easily do this." Could he, though? No, now was not the time to second-guess himself. Taking another deep breath, he looked around as his free hand clicked the lock on the door behind him. His eyes shot open; peaking from the hot hoodies and sweatpants, the rose-red lace. He turned from the laundry basket while shaking his head; he couldn't! He could! He really could!

He quickly snatched the lace from the laundry basket before putting it in his pocket and sheltering his cock back in his sweatpants, leaving the room, then peeking into your bedroom and saying, "I think I'm going to head off.". Not the frown; he'd beg for anything else but seeing the frown on your face: 'But it's the weekend; you always stay on the weekend; at least stay tonight, and you can go home before I leave for the party tomorrow".

Fuck, shit, damn! He couldn't help but curse in his head. What was he supposed to say? No, surely that wasn't an option, as he didn't want you to get upset. "Mingi, I didn't fluster you, did I?". He panicked, that filthy smirk growing on his face as he let out a sigh. "I need to go," he insisted.

Seeing you walk towards him, he couldn't help but turn around with the plan to leave. As much as he wished he could stay to experience your intentions, he felt the guilt weighing him down—the guilt that rested in his sweatpants pocket, the guilt that would send him to the grave if you found out.

The guilt also currently has him in his car, not even making it into his apartment. The guilt caused his cock to leak extremely as he pumped it and enjoyed the smell of your cunt. The guilt that he wouldn't even forgive a higher power for The guilt that was now not so guilty as he watched the white ropes of cum run against his stomach was only guilt if he had gotten caught with it, his dirty little secret...

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

I hadn't seen Mingi since last night, and while getting ready, I tried to call him just to talk, but there was no answer. While trying to enjoy the birthday party, I began to enjoy the drinks more while waiting on Mingi's message or at least a call back to compensate for the missed one.

Hey, is something up?

Ugh, Mingi just answered.

The more drinks I managed to have, the more I couldn't help but think about it—about him, his touch, the way he smelled—everything. Mingi was just always in my thoughts lately, but they were never so strong that everything made me think of him.

I miss you.

You should meet me at my place.

Please

Mingi You don't understand

I need you.

I just had to admit it: I wanted Mingi; I wanted him to bend me over; and I wanted to feel his cock. I don't think I've ever been as desperate for anyone before. I could feel the ache; my clitter was crying to be touched. Fuck his hands; his fingers even stretched me open in such a sinful way. His voice, his tongue, the way I could even sit on his face, or how big he was to just tower over me and make me cry for his cock, fuck, I needed him.

Eventually, I couldn't help but leave; I had to get home and try to get a hold of him or take care of myself. As I sat in the Uber, there was a buzz next to my leg. It was my phone.

Need me?

Yes...

That was all I could manage to reply with; he had to have known I needed him.

Do you want me? Do you need me? Need me to fuck you?

Mingi couldn't process this conversation. He felt his chest tighten as if all the air had left him. He knew exactly what you meant as he paused before hitting the phone icon, hearing it ring against his ear.

"Hey.."

"How badly do you need me? "You're not going to make me a second option." He hated to sound this way, but he was just too obsessed with you; if he slept with you, he wasn't going to let anyone have you, and that was that. He had to make sure you wanted him as bad as he wanted you every day.

"Now why would I make you my second option?" I questioned him, as I could tell he was nibbling on his bottom lips before I heard his response. "You're drunk; go to bed", Now I couldn't describe the disappointment that left me with.

For the longest, and I mean the longest, I could've sworn he was attracted to me, was he not? "Why does that matter?" There was only a chuckle that came from him. I lay in bed before requesting to change the call to FaceTime.

Declined.

"Why won't you let me see you?"

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

"Y/N, answer my question. You don't understand how much I need an answer."

Mingi kept you on speaker; his cheeks flushed at hearing the rustling of the sheets. He wanted to give in to you; his brain begged him to, but he just couldn't let himself do that. If he slept with you, then he couldn't bear seeing you with someone else.

"I want you, Mingi; you'll always be my first option." Fuck, fuck the words that came from your lips. Why? because he was already out the door with the plan to be at your house in ten minutes. The way you just had him wrapped around your finger without knowing sent him for a spin.

You didn't even know the half of it—how much he begged for you and cried out your name when he pumped himself, wishing you were there to like the cum that would drip from his head.

Although he thought about you pleasing him, he mostly couldn't get you off his mind. The way his ears would heat up as he drove just thinking about your chubby figure, how it would feel to have your warm, soft thighs around his waist as he fucked you, being able to see your chest in his perfect view, your cute tummy, your chubby cheeks that connected to the perfect lips, ugh, your lips.

Your lips—he couldn't control himself while thinking about them. How they let out the most sinful whines for him, or how they'd look wrapped around his cock as you milked him dry.

All these fantasies he's had for so long, so fucking long, and now here he was, not hanging up the call as he let your begs ring through his ears as he drove. The phone was resting in his lap, and your moans were still so loud that he felt he was right in front of you already.

"Please, Mingi, please come over. You don't know how badly I need you."

"Yeah? "Don't worry, beautiful, I'm trying as quick as I

It was like everything was in a jumble; he needed you, and his brain was so fogged by your lewd sounds that he was surprised he was even able to keep the focus on the road.

"I'll be ready, baby," was all he heard. NO! You couldn't hang up just yet.

"I can't get a kiss before you go." His tone was whinier than usual, and when he noticed, he couldn't help but feel embarrassed, realizing the needy state he was actually in. His heart pounded at the second of silence before he heard you give a little kiss through the speaker.

He smiled like an idiot when he then heard, "See you soon, handsome; I'll be ready." That tone was nothing but filthy, as it made his cock twitch in his pants. Hering the line end, he then drove a bit quicker...

Once he realized he was in front of your place, he took a big breath before walking himself inside. Entering the apartment, he could hear the AC unit running, yet his body was still so hot. It was dark due to you not being there. Moving his feet again, he began looking around the living room.

His breath hitched as he picked up the thong that was tossed next to the dress on the floor. You were already naked. Shamelessly, he held the thong up to his face, taking in the gorgeous scent of you once again. The scent of you was one he could never degrade; nothing about you he could.

Looking at the dress on the floor, he then picked it up; the skimpy piece of cloth now rested in his hands. At that moment, something in him grew cold. The thought that someone at that party had seen you like that—they had seen your body barely being restrained in the whimpy dress he was holding—

This dress was no different than going out bare, and the fact he couldn't see a bra made his skin turn cold in a way that he surely didn't like. "Mingi, baby, what's taking you so long?" Looking up from the clothing, he saw your bare body lean against the doorframe to your bedroom.

He watched your cute little face as you smirked, looking down at your chest as you had no shame when he stared at them, and he knew it, your cute tummy resting comfortably before he could see your pussy...the one that was resting in the pants he was holding, not to mention the ones he stole.

"Was this the dress you wore out?" he asked softly before walking closer to you. Holding it upwards a bit, he then placed it in your hand. "Please put it back on, baby," he begged before placing a kiss on your hand. "And these? "I'll keep these," he added, placing the thong in his pocket.

Mingi couldn't even tell what had come over him; he just felt that he had to breed you in that dress. He felt he had to watch his cum either drip from you or stain the darling fabric of the dress. Seeing you raise a brow, he did the same before you just nodded and slipped it on.

Exactly as he imagined, walking past you and into your room, he placed himself on the bed. That split second, seeing the view behind him, he watched your ass peek from the dress, your thighs rubbing together, before you turned around to face him.

Seeing you walk towards him, he gasped slightly, feeling your wet cunt in his lap, the wetness running through the thin sweatpants just enough for him to feel it against his tip. Moving his hips slightly, he then knew he was a goon.

Your lips against his, swirling your tongue ever so slightly, and being able to taste your saliva with his caused him to tense. "Relax, Mingi, we don't want to get too excited and cum too soon." The little giggle that left your lips after made him flush. Looking down at his lap, he couldn't help but run his hands over his thighs before gripping them and watching the bits of chub flow over between his fingers.

"You're so fucking pretty," he whispered against your chest before licking over the fabric and watching your nipples harden underneath. "Thank you, but you're so much prettier." He almost choked on his breath as you tangled your hands in his hair.

"P-please fuck me" was all that could come from his now. "Wrap your thighs around me, lock me in as I fuck you." He placed you on the bed before hivering above you, watching you pull down his sweats. He shivered, feeling the air run against his begging tip.

wYou'reh"your so hard for me alrGuess guess we can't time,e time can we?" That same sinful giggle only distracted him for a moment before feeling your warm had wrap around his cock. Letting out a whimper, he couldn’t help but knit his brows.

He was already sensitive, so your doing this was enough to send him over the edge. As much as he wanted to hold it in, he just couldn't, and you both knew that. You both knew if you quickened your wrist, he’d cum.

"S-stop please," although he surely didn’t want to, he did want you to watch him cum so easily. Heavy but short breaths began to leave him as he held onto your thighs to keep himself balanced.

"Hmm? What is it, baby? Don’t you want to cum for me?" Seeing your pout, he knew he couldn’t disappoint. Did he fall into your little trap? Maybe he cared. No, he was going to cum for you like you wanted.

"L-little more, I promise I'll cum for you!" He cried, watching his hips buck uncontrollably. "That’s it, don’t be shy."

Now that those words brought him to the edge, he was definitely cumming right then and there. He whined in embarrassment as he watched the thick white ropes leave his cock, although no matter how embarrassed he wanted to be, he couldn’t help but feel his heart burst watching his cum ooze off your tummy and thighs.

Hearing your giggle, he watched you swipe up the cum that dripped from your cunt before taking it into your mouth. "Felt good, didn’t it? Don’t ever be shy about cuddling for me".

He nodded before watching you lay down, all of your body exposed to him, and lay under him. Placing his hands in the corners of the pillow, he felt your cumbersome, strained thighs wrap around his waist. "Go ahead, Mingi, fuck me like you want too."

Taking a deep breath, he lined his cock with your entrance before slowly pushing into you. A groan left him as he tried not to collapse onto you. Your pussycat already had him weak; he just knew that even with cumping already, he was definitely going to cum again soon.

"So big… "Cmon, baby, give me all of it." You whined, pushing him deeper, taking one last deep breath as he bottomed out into you. He calmed himself before beginning to move his hips.

"Just like that, baby, fuck!" You were already crying for him, and although he was in the state he was in, he couldn’t help but smirk, "Am I doing good? You love it, don’t you?" he smiled before sitting on his knees.

Watching his cock spread your cunt open, the white creamy substance coating him, watching it as it stuck you two together with each thrust, "such a pretty pussy, beautiful body, such a gorgeous girl..your gonna be my gorgeous girl, right?" Seeing you nod, he felt his heart flutter.

"I want an answer; give me the answer... "Oh, you can say it," he added, running his thumb over your cheek as he felt your hot, flushed skin and the warm breath from your lips as the cries had left you.

"I’m your girl, Mingi," he said, shaking his head. "That’s not what I said, baby; say it. Say it so I can fuck you like you deserve."

"I'M YOUR G-AH GORGEOUS GIRL!" Hearing you scream was enough to make him want to go harder, and knowing he was the one that made you feel like this just sent a boost through him. "that’s it! My gorgeous girl, all mine.".

All the men you had before were now nothing to him. Why? Because he was here watching you make a mess on his cock, he wasn’t at home thinking about how lucky they possibly were because now he was the lucky one.

He was now the guy he dreamed of being, and he wasn’t going to do anything to ruin that. Snapping out of his thoughts, he sucked in a breath, feeling how you suddenly tightened around him. "F-fuck, you're going to make me cum!" He sighed, making sure to push his hips deeper.

"M-more, make me cum on your cock baby, please, please... I’m already a mess, Mingi." Seeing you beg, he couldn’t help but kiss your lips before pulling away from you just to slam into you again. The careless whine that left your lips told him you were in bliss.

His eyes rolled back in ecstasy before pushing as deep as he could into you, feeling you cum onto his cock, a loud cry leaving your lips and your back arching slightly, letting out a strained grin he tried to hold back but couldn’t as he felt him cum fill you.

Hearing a low hum leave your lips, he couldn’t help but smile. "Did I do good?" "Amazing" amazing. He did amazing in your opinion; god, you were going to be the death of him.

Placing himself next to you, he immediately pulled you into his hold. "My gorgeous girl," he whispered before stealing a kiss from you. He couldn’t believe the state he was in, to be honest. He still couldn’t. And he didn’t think he’d ever do it.

"You know when we’re sorting, I expect kisses through the phone on the regular," he added, hearing your chuckle. "Don’t worry, you won’t be far from me now."

[qierxing]

Glass Doll

Commissioned by the wonderful thefangirlhasarrive Yan!Vil x F!OC TW/CW: Implied long term drugging, manipulation, unhealthy relationship, obsessive behavior

“So? What do you think?”

Victoria looks up from the crinkled script to the director, then to the nervous scriptwriter next to him, dark bags sagging under his eyes. 

In all honesty, it was a mess. The actions were near impossible to decipher, the transitions were abrupt, and the whole thing felt like a five tiered cake only a couple inches away from collapsing. But. But. There was a glimmer of something raw and rich in the text that had her pause in remuneration. She’s been through enough B-rated films and top grossing releases to know that what she read has a spark that she hadn’t seen in a very, very long time.

“I think it’s something that we can work with,” came her measured reply. The script writer looked ready to collapse in relief at her verdict, no doubt knowing that his work could have never seen the light of day if it weren’t for her approval. 

“Wonderful!” The director smiled, clasping a meaty hand onto the script writer’s shoulders, jostling the poor man. “I had a feeling you would see the potential. Mr. Schoenheit did as well!”

The smile drops from her lips as soon the words leave the director’s mouth. So it wasn’t just hinging on her opinion. Her lips curl ever so slightly in a sneer as the director continues going on about plans of casting, set dressing, and script refining. 

Now, Victoria had nothing against the up and rising actor Vil Schoenheit. She’s never crossed paths with him, so the only thing she knew was that he was a NRC alumnus and no matter how hard paparazzi did try, his private life is still a mystery to this day. In this day and age, she has to admire how he’s managed to escape the prying eyes of the ravaging media.

But she did not like being set aside like a delicate china plate in favor of prettier, shinier silverware.  

“And what exactly does Vil Schoenheit have to do with this?” Her cold question snaps the director out of his rambling to turn with a face of disbelief.

“Why, he’s your co-actor! We got him to agree a while ago–we just needed your agreement.”

–

It was after Victoria went through various dress rehearsals and makeup testing that she got to meet the person she is supposed to go mad for. He is indeed beautiful as the people say. Vil’s beauty is knife-like, all sharp edges with nothing to sand them down. His eyes, especially, are hypnotic; an enchanting amethyst purple that one could not help but look twice to appreciate. His shiny blond hair is done in a deliberate way that the stray strands curl and frame his face perfectly for viewing pleasure. Each part of his appearance is meticulously crafted to the point where Victoria wondered if he himself could pass as a work of art.

He introduces himself with a confident air that makes her lips tilt upward unconsciously. She did so like those charismatic enough to meet her fierce tawny eyes head on. Perhaps she can almost forgive the director for the earlier slight of weighing their opinions against each other. 

“Victoria De La Rosa. I look forward to working with you, Mr. Schoenheit.” His thin, bow shaped lips curl into a satisfied smile at her confident introduction. His bare hand accepts her own outstretched one with a surprisingly firm shake.

“As do I, Ms. Rosa.” 

The filming goes along swimmingly, with only the usual minor hitches and mishaps of a movie shooting. During breaks, Victoria has come to relish in the company of Vil, whose presence feels like a balm in the hustle and bustle. Although she is no stumbling wide-eyed rookie, Vil’s advice is insightful and not condescending, a refreshing change from her previous contracts.

“Your speech is slurring a bit here,” Vil taps a manicured finger on her paper, highlighting a line. “Make sure to enunciate. Lady Sigrid is not someone who minces words.”

She nods in agreement, making a mental note. The two of them were sitting next to each other in director chairs, going over their parts together while interns and prop designers rushed past to help set up the backdrop for their scene. 

“I didn’t think you were much into horror.” The words leave her mouth before she can think about it, and her face colors dark in embarrassment as she realizes what she’s just said to the famous actor. “It’s not that I don’t think you’re capable! It’s just–”

He cuts her off with a husky chuckle that makes her spine tingle in a strange way. “It’s just that I’ve never done horror movies?”

Victoria can only nod in response. He leans his head back with a contemplative hum, his white neck gleaming in the dull showlights like porcelain. (Seriously. She must ask him later about his skin routine)

“If I may return your question with my own?” Vil posits, “Why did you decide to act for this? I’m well aware an actress of your caliber has better pickings besides this smaller studio.”

A warmth blooms in her chest at the subtle compliment laced in his question. He wasn’t wrong. If she had to give one reason…

Psychological horror is something Victoria greatly adored, in all of her acting stints in movies. There is no need to rely on a hidden red paint bag to burst and cover your body in fake blood for the fear to sink into people (she certainly appreciated not having to clean it off each time they had to reroll). Indeed, what lurks in the recesses of the mind, she thought, would be far scarier than stab wounds or chopped gore.

“I think far too many people think that horror is something that is supposed to make someone scream,” she carefully says. “And it can be. But I’m getting tired of the predictable zombie apocalypse or serial killer thrillers. I want something that can truly make someone shudder and think about why we fear.”

Vil smiles with a flash of blinding white teeth almost akin to a snarl, as if he knew exactly what she would reply with. “Precisely. You and I both know what makes this particular production worthy.”

The director calls for them in the distance, and Victoria has no time to dwell on the way his pretty lavender eyes had made something burn in her core.

—

Being with Vil felt like downing sparkling wine–bubbly, fizzy, and most of all, titillating. 

Her heart soared whenever he handed her water bottles or leaned in close to whisper tasteful quips in that velvet smooth voice of his. It’s almost scary, just how much he knew what would make her perk up with pleasure. It’s like he actually understood her, not like the others who only saw her superficial shell. 

It made her hopeful, optimistic. Real friends were hard to come by in the industry. It was not that far of a stereotype to say that actors were cutthroat in their endeavors to reach the top. The games her fellow coworkers played were akin to the political machinations in the time of the Seven. As much as she wanted no part of it, Victoria knew she could not escape either.

It’s a rare day to relax for once. The first batch of filming had been done, so while the film was being post-processed, the director decided to let the actors have a quick breath before they were back to the grindstone.

She had intended to put the day to good use: a trip to the hotsprings spa she adored, then afterward, some time in the antique bookshop she had found a while back, and finally seeing Neige’s new movie that had come out. A ping on her phone distracted her from the planning in her mind.

With a huff, she’s about to mute her notifications when she sees the Magicam banner with the quote “@vdelrosa 👀 lookin kinda cozy”. Her frown deepens. It’s from a rando account, but her gut twists, and she taps her thumb on it, a post popping up. The comment was nestled under a picture. When she takes a closer look, she realizes with a strange sense of detachment that the picture is of Vil and her during the filming, when they were exchanging quiet conversation with each other. The picture’s angle is intimate and with a realization of disgust, Victoria realizes someone on the set had been leaking pics, or worse, paparazzi had managed to bribe someone. 

Victoria knew better than to look through the other comments. No doubt it would be a riotous mass of either those against her or egging on the tabloid like gossip. Her fury burned like a wildfire inside her, and before she could think, her phone was hurled into the soft covers of her bed, hard enough to make a weighted dent inside the fabric. 

Her phone chimes again and she groans as she realizes her phone wasn’t muted, so distracted by the post that had exposed her to the public. Victoria picks it up again and once again she pauses, because this time, it was a text message banner.

You had also gotten tagged in that post, right? Don’t worry, I took care of it, dear.

Victoria’s heart fluttered when she read the sender’s name: Vil. Her stomach churned even more at the sweet endearance. Dear. Dear. It was so casually said, yet she couldn’t help but feel like she was floating in the clouds at the nickname. 

And despite the danger that whispered, Victoria couldn’t help but hope that maybe, just maybe, she wasn’t alone anymore.

—

It was a simple vial that caught her attention.

Vil had invited her to practice their lines together in his dressing room, which she agreed readily, trying not to let her pounding heart show in her eager face. He had stepped out for a moment, but as the seconds ticked on, her eyes began to scour the room in fascinated curiosity.

In the midst of the rich swathes of fabrics thrown over chaises and makeup containers decorating the creaky old vanity table, a dark midnight blue vial stood innocently among them. Unlike the other makeup vials, it had no label and was unusually tiny. Against her whisper of unease, she picked it up and realized with a flicker of surprise, that it was translucent. An unknown liquid sloshed inside the glass, fizzing and bubbling ominously. 

She furrowed her eyebrows in distant confusion. As far as she knew, there were no brands of serums that had this kind of carbonation in the formula. It would be the first for her. Perhaps a nutrition drink of some sorts? But such a miniscule size–how much did he pay for it? And what were the benefits?

Before Victoria could blink, the vial was magicked away from her hand, and she whips around to see VIl with a mischievous smirk playing on his lips. It was the first time Victoria had seen someone use their magic so flawlessly, without any effort or incantation. Yet, despite the light countenance the actor bore, there was something taut with tension in his smile, like a bow drawn with an arrow.

“Didn’t your parents ever tell you that looking around someone’s belongings is rude?” His voice had none of the scolding she expected from someone having their belongings rifled through. Certainly, it was her wrong, but something didn’t feel right.

The awkward situation is remedied faster than expected, but Victoria doesn’t miss the way Vil treats the vial far more preciously than she had expected for a skincare item. 

—

“How’s your shooting going along?”

The sound of the coffee shop echoes around, clinks of cutlery and cups tinkling in booths behind them. The shop workers were smart enough to stick them in the hidden corner of the shop, where it was dim and only lit by the weak sunlight streaming through the one gothic window next to them. 

“Tori?” She finally drags her gaze from the stained glass to Neige’s worried chocolate eyes. 

“It’s been going fine.” She sips at her earl gray tea latte, relishing the warm sweetness that blooms over her tongue. It quickly warms her bones from the chilly Shaftlands air.

Neige purses his lips, but takes a sip of his own drink. Hot apple cider. He’s never been very fond of caffeinated drinks, even if his work would have been improved by it. Instead, he leans in on his elbows.

“How’s Vi? The two of you aren’t…fighting, are you?” Victoria bites her tongue at Neige’s cautious question. 

“No way,” she shakes her head firmly. Neige looks somewhat relieved at her response. 

“That’s good. A lot of people find Vi…” he pauses, tongue prodding the inside of his cheek in a thoughtful look.. “...hard to work with. But he means well. He always does.”

Victoria takes another scalding sip of her latte to stop herself from saying anything in response. Vil’s crooked smile flashes in her mind, the tiny bottle practically burning a hole in her pocket. She feels guilty for the ulterior motive of this supposed catch-up, but there was no one else she could turn to. 

“Neige, you’re a mage, right?” The question takes the young man back. He nods hesitantly.

“Yes?” He tilts his head with a raised eyebrow. The winter light makes him even more radiant, like an angel. “But why are you asking?”

Victoria couldn’t stop the question from leaving her lips. “How well versed are you with potions?”

For a moment, the only sounds that could be heard were the cafe patrons’ murmuring and the dry leaves blowing outside. Victoria’s own heart hammered, for she knew she was toeing the line of no return. Neige’s conflicted countenance flickers back and forth from concern and confusion. 

“Alchemy?” His voice lowers even more quietly. “I’m not exactly a pro at it, but I did decent in school.” 

He pauses, then: “If you really want someone with potion expertise, you should be asking Vi. I heard he was the top of his alchemy class.”

Something cold slithers in her gut at that. As if aware of Neige’s words, the vial presses into her leg, practically molding itself into her very skin. 

“It’s not that I don’t trust Vil,” she deflected quickly, “It’s just that I don’t want any chance of this being…you know.”

He doesn’t need any more explanation. Neige nods his head in understanding when Victoria extracts the vial from her coat pocket with sweaty fingers, sliding it over the table into his opened palm. 

“I’ll see what I can do,” Neige discreetly examines the vial with a scrutiny that was unfamiliar on his youthful heart-shaped face. “It’ll take me a while, though, if it’s not a basic potion.”

Victoria bites her tongue. By now, Vil probably had noticed it gone missing, and she could only hope by then, she would be apologizing for a misunderstanding. 

If it was a misunderstanding, that is. 

—

A celebratory toast. That’s all it was supposed to be. All it was meant to be. 

The box office release has been a smashing success, and Vil wasted no time in extending an invitation to share a drink over their ‘hard work’, in his words. 

But this?

She steps into the foyer of the regal penthouse, looking around rather uneasily. The interior was just as lavish with various tasteful paintings dressing the halls and elegant embroidered rugs lining the white marble floors. The click of heels turns her attention away from marveling silently to Vil giving his usual charismatic smile. 

He had dressed up, alright. It almost made Victoria self conscious, even if the midnight blue dress that hugged her form just right and the glittering pearls on her neck could hardly be called underdressing. Vil, on the other hand, donned a casual white peasant blouse that showed a generous expanse of his fair neck and collarbone, with waist high black pants. His hair had been slicked back, with only a couple strands of dyed hair free to frame his face and neck. 

“Thank you for coming. I hope you haven’t been waiting long.” Victoria shakes her head as he leads her through the hallways to the grand living room and seats her on a fancy deep purple Rococo style sofa. He wastes no time in taking the spot next to her much to her chagrin and directs her attention to the spread on the coffee table in front of them. 

“Please, help yourself.” He pours a bottle of champagne into two crystal glasses, handing one to her. She welcomed the familiar sensation of alcohol burning on her tongue, followed by the fruity lightfulness of the aftertaste. Just as she takes it, the doorbell echoes, and Vil excuses himself to greet it, leaving her disoriented by the sheer luxury of the room.

A buzz, disturbing and urgent peeled through the air like the hum of agitated wasps. It was her phone.

Tori, how did you get this potion?

Neige. Her heart immediately stops. Before she could type a reply, her phone buzzes again.

If I’m correct, it’s a love potion-and those have been banned for decades now. I don’t think it’s possible to have one unless you went to the black market or somehow brewed it yourself

Love potion? Her mind races with this information. What was a love potion doing in Vil’s room? Suddenly, Neige’s words surface in her mind.

 “If you really want someone with potion expertise, you should be asking Vi. I heard he was the top of his alchemy class.”

How many drinks has she accepted from Vil? Even this champagne that had already wetted her lips was not any different. She had simply trusted him, and because of that…

Another buzz. 

You’re not safe, where are you?

“My dear?” Vil’s silken voice cuts through her veneer of panic. 

Tori?

Try as she might, when she looked up, Vil immediately saw past her flimsy facade and bore witness to the muted horror that painted her face. She had finally pieced the puzzle together.

“You know, my dear, I didn’t want this to happen.” A sigh, as if he was a disappointed parent who was trying to make their child see sense. “It wasn’t easy making that potion.”

Her eyes desperately scanned the room for anything, any clue that could be used for escape, or more importantly, a weapon. But what could she do against a mage? Vil was blocking the only exit out of the living room.

”If you didn’t catch on, the potion would have done its work.” Her breathing quickened. “But, we’ll make it work, won’t we, my dear?”

“Nothing to lose, nothing to fear. The shining crown is meant for me. ” With faint dread, she realizes he’s chanting a spell, but as her body succumbs to the raw, primal instinct to survive, it is already too late.

“Fairest one of all.” 

Just as the last word leaves his lips, her body locks like a ball jointed doll, frozen in action of bolting, her last ditch attempt to escape halted right in its tracks. Her voice comes out in a frustrated scream, but even that, too, crackles in her throat.

“Come to me.”

Her body refused her control and with the same kind of seductive sway, her legs had floated her to the very villain who put all of this in motion. His smile now was cruel, puncturing with the jagged sharpness she had seen all those weeks ago. Still, embarrassingly enough, his hands were gentle as they caressed her sides and even worse still, made her burn with yearning. 

“Until you fall completely in love with me, my darling,” Vil’s warm breath hovered over her own lips, teasing with the possibility of what she could have. “You will not be able to disobey me. Curses are powerful things, as you know.”

Victoria wanted to scream. She wanted to punch Vil, throw things at him. But she couldn’t. All she could do was watch helplessly as her body perfectly curled into Vil’s own lithe form and her hands began to undo the laces that held his shirt together. 

She wouldn’t be alone. She just wouldn’t be able to remember what it’s like to be herself.

[skyward-floored]

does Hyrule stay at Sky's? how's their first meeting go? what's he think about Sun?

- hero-of-the-wolf

@hero-of-the-wolf He does! Sky and Sun are better equipped to keep supers that are in trouble safe for more long-term—Malon does what she can, but her place isant as safe since Legend and Twilight are in active duty. And for someone like Hyrule who’s a bit high-profile and actively being hunted down, it’s safer for him to hide out with Sky.

Hyrule thinks Sun is really nice, though he does have to adjust to that. There’s a part of him that thinks she’s almost too nice, and it takes time for him to get past that.

And as for Hyrule and Sky first meeting—

————————————————————

Link was helping Malon wash dishes when he heard a knock at the back door.

He was expecting it, but he still froze at the sound, as did Malon. More knocks rang out after a pause, a series of taps and heavier knocks that almost made a song. They finished with three small taps, and Malon relaxed, looking at the door.

“Is that him?” Link asked, and Malon nodded, setting the last plate down and drying her hands.

“It is. Are you all ready?” she asked with a somewhat worried look. Link couldn’t help feeling warm at the concern.

“Yeah. I gathered my stuff earlier, I just have to grab my bag.” Link didn’t mention how he didn’t really want to leave, but he knew he had to. It was safer for everyone this way.

Malon’s house was just a way station, and with the manhunt currently going on for Link, it was dangerous for him to stay here too long. Especially since Wind and Four were already hiding out here. Link definitely didn’t want to put them in more danger then he had to.

Malon moved to get the door, but was cut off by Legend skidding into the kitchen, rushing for the backdoor with a more eager face then Link had ever seen on him. He nearly flung the door open, and smiled at the man standing there, who had an equally wide grin on his face.

“Hey Ledge,” he said, and Legend let him give him a hug as he stepped into their house and greeted Malon.

And Link couldn’t help but stare.

The man (Link had forgotten the name Malon had told him, which he felt bad about) looked fairly normal aside from his dark clothes; slightly shorter-than-average build, hair somewhere between light brown and blond, blue eyes that were piercing, but warm.

The thing that caught Link’s attention though, and that was decidedly not normal, was the large crimson wing coming out of the man’s back.

And even stranger was the remains of another beside it.

Link felt sudden bile rise in his throat as he looked at the ruined nub, his wonder at the normal wing soured by the sight of the other. It wasn’t disgusting to look at, it was just... horrible because he knew what should be there. Something inside of him screamed for him to fix this, but he couldn’t heal something that wasn’t even totally there anymore.

And even worse, while he didn’t know what had happened, he knew who must be responsible.

Could the man even fly anymore?

He must have felt Link’s gaze on him, and the man turned, giving him a smile that made Link feel strangely warm.

“And you must be Link,” he said with a grin, holding a hand out for Link to shake. Link took it, and wished his own hand was bigger as they shook. “My name’s Sky. I heard you need a place to hide for a bit?”

Link nodded, feeling strangely shy. “Yeah. Malon said here wasn’t safe enough.”

A shadow crossed Sky’s face. “She’s right about that. Nowhere much is safe. But me and Sun have a few tricks up our sleeves— you may have quite the hunt after you, but we’ll keep you safe, I promise.”

He patted Link on the shoulder as he spoke, and Link felt a little better about going off with him. Malon had said she trusted Sky completely, but confirmation of his kindness was nice.

“I have to ask though...” Sky added, and Link turned back to him. “How on earth did you get out in the first place?”

“Wind helped me. And Four. And Legend, and Twilight and Malon. They all helped,” he answered, and Sky looked confused for a moment.

Malon came up beside him and whispered something in his ear that banished the confusion, momentarily at least. It came back in full-force when Wind came into the kitchen though, and Sky’s face went pale when Four followed after.

“Dear Hylia... you were right, they look just like him,” he breathed, and Wind and Four gave each other a hesitant look.

“I guess Malon told you about us?” Wind asked quietly, and Sky nodded, swallowing thickly.

“Not everything, but... yes.”

“Okay, enough of that, on to business,” Legend said loudly, skipping over the uncomfortable conversation that doubtless would have ensued if he hadn’t interrupted. Link had noticed Legend didn’t like talking about where Wind and Four had come from very much. “Link, do you have all your stuff?”

“I grabbed it for you,” Four said before Link could answer, and handed him the small bag of personal items he had. Link smiled at him in thanks, and Four beamed.

“Is there anything else you need?” Sky asked as he gave himself a shake, and looked at the small bag Link held. Link shook his head, but then Malon stepped forward.

“Actually I put a couple things together for you,” she admitted, and handed Link a bag. It was bigger than the one he was holding, but was still small enough to be easy to travel with. There was even a nice strap on the back that would make it easier to carry.

Link peeked inside, and saw the toothbrush he’d been using, along with a clean set of pajamas, and some other clothes as well. There was a blanket too, and space for his current bag to fit inside, and even more stuff, but Hyrule couldn’t see the rest of the contents very well through the sudden blurriness of his vision.

“Thank you,” he whispered, and Malon gave him a quick hug.

“Of course, honey. There’s one thing I couldn’t put in your bag though, and that’s an open invitation to come back as soon as it’s safe,” she said with a smile. “You’ll always have a home here.”

That almost made Hyrule break down crying, but he knew they didn’t have time for that, even though his heart nearly burst with the words.

A home.

Link merely wiped his eyes and nodded at Malon, hoping she understood.

She smiled again, and Wind and Four scrambled forward to hug him before he left, the two of them yanking Legend in too. He grumbled, but patted Link on the shoulder before breaking off again.

“It’s not like we’re never going to see him again, he doesn’t need all this fuss,” he said with an eye roll, and Link smiled. Legend was prickly, but Link had grown to like him. Plus a part of him agreed— if the goodbyes drew out too long he knew he would end up crying.

“Bye Link,” Four said, and he and Wind drew back from the hug.

“Twilight said to tell you goodbye too, and that he wished he could be here,” Wind passed on, and Link nodded. “Stay safe Hy—I mean Link. And, um... Sky?”

“Yes?” Sky asked, and Wind looked suddenly awkward.

“I uh... I guess I just wanted to say I’m glad Link is staying with you,” he said, giving Sky a look Link couldn’t decipher. Link also had a feeling that wasn’t everything he meant to say either, but Wind didn’t continue.

Sky looked at him and Four for a moment, a saddened look in his eyes, but he quickly banished it, and turned back to Link.

“Alright. Sounds like we’re heading out,” he said, voice slipping into one more serious. “We’re going to take a roundabout path to get there so nobody will be able to track us—it’ll take longer, but it’ll also keep suspicion off of Malon’s house, which is kind of the goal here.”

Sky handed Link a dark jacket with a hood, which he slipped on before pulling his new bag over his shoulder. It wasn’t as good as a super suit, but the ensemble made him feel ready for anything.

“Don’t use your powers unless necessary,” Sky added, then took a deep breath, his face screwing up as his wings moved.

The normal one somehow folded in on itself and disappeared into Sky’s back, but the ruined one remained. Link really didn’t know how Sky’s powers worked, but he guessed that Sky couldn’t retract that wing due to the damage it had taken. And even though he hadn’t really moved it, Sky’s face was lined with pain, pain that took several moments to fade.

He noticed Link watching him again, and gave him a small smile, pulling the ruined remains of his other wing flush against his back, and pulling a jacket overtop it. It neatly hid the ruined appendage, and Sky looked back at Malon and everyone else one last time.

“Goodbye everyone.”

“Bye Sky,” they all replied quietly, and Malon obviously couldn’t resist giving him and Link both one last hug.

“Stay safe out there. Let us know when you’re home,” she said softly, and Sky nodded as he hugged her back.

“Will do. Come on, Link,” he said as he pulled back. “Let’s get going.”

He opened the door, and Link looked back one last time at the people who’d helped get him out of the miserable life he’d been living, given him safety, and were his family in another life.

Wind and Four gave him little waves, and Link waved back, before turning and following Sky out of the door and into the cool night air.

[asoulwithadream]

Shoscombe Old Place / Part 2 - Sherlock & Co From the diary of ASoulWithADream…

I'm so excited that we're getting a three-parter after three-parter. They're brilliant and as the production quality increases exponentially, these drawn out adventures holding more content are so important to me.

Live Soul Reaction (my little on-the-spot commentary):

The episode sub-title just makes me think of Fast Car by Tracy Chapman. "🎵 You've got a fast car, I want a ticket to anywhere,"

John explaining the stupid social hierarchy, state-till-8's, the little 'I dunno's' of doubt, as if he still feels a bit confused or insecure about the whole situation with Carrie and him. The way he phrases it makes me think of superficiality.

"Like some big slobbery traitor!" I like how the roles have switched to Sherlock defending Archie from John.

Again with the card references!

Gary Lineker's mate. That's the second time HE's been mention. There's been an awful lot of emphasis on repeating motifs. Makes me wonder what else from last week's episode will feature today.

"You're invaluable, Watson!" "Awh." "Cheers!" <33333333

"Ah! Goodness! Hello Bob- UH, Robert Knob- Robert Norbertson! Ugh, spit it out, John."

"Just what she needs. Just… what she needs." Bobby you are not making yourself look more innocent you smoldering drama queen.

Sherlock swallowing a fly 😭

Lineker again!

Jump in the river. Jumping into a body of water. This is the third time. For fuck's sake.

"World's colliding. New friends, meeting old friends."

Who's calling John a twat on the internet???

Ash. Ash on the leaves, on the nettles, on the bark of the trees. Didn't Sherlock mention smoke? From the house, Shoscombe? Last week, he said it very explicitly. Smoke.

"It's a house for the dead." "A mausoleum." "Yes, a very tired one."

I SEE DEAD PEOPLE.

"Sherlock." "Yes, Watson." "Quick question." "Fire away!" "Are we… trapped? In a… four-hundred year old mausoleum?" "Trapped is a rather subjective term. We did CHOOSE to enter." "Sherlock." "Yes actually, I think we are."

Pick a tomb, mate! COS' I AM GOING TO KILL YOU >:(

"Brings a certain perspective, doesn't it? Being in here, with the long dead."

The way John realises that he's snapped just immediately forgives and dismisses Sherlock as the cause of their predicament really goes to show the bond they share, how they're able to adapt and just remain sane in their situation.

"What… feels like home?" "Baker Street." <3333333333333

"Rivers are just as doubtful, Watson. Just as unsure. They take the course they find easy, through the soft earth. That's why their paths are winding and splintered. They look for the easy way. Only the most determined bore through the hardest rock. Overtime, much, much time." More water, which could mean nothing. But seriously speaking, I love Sherlock's perspective on things, and how he reassures Watson with these beautiful metaphors, connecting their surroundings and the information he has consumed to describe his dear friend. <3

"Even the torrents that seem so wondrous to us will reach their end in a sea, a lake… a waterfall." HE SAID IT. Before I thought I was being delusional! Anything could be water, but the hesitation, the torrent he speaks of being a metaphor for both himself through John's perspective and the adventure that Moriarty will pose for them both, but especially for Sherlock Holmes!! I'm freaking out!!

"Shout out to Pro- ooh, Professor!" I AM DEAD. I HAVE TO PAUSE. IT CAN'T BE. WHAT I WAS JUST JOKING BEFORE. I'M BEING DELUSIONAL.

PROFESSOR JAMES MORIARTY.

JAMES MORIARTY.

MORIARTY.

WHO IS LISTENING INTENTLY, TO EVER WORD.

WHOEVER THAT ONE TUMBLR POSTER WAS WHO SAID "haha what if he got a shoutout" YOU WERE RIGHT. I'VE TRIED TO TAG YOU BUT I CAN'T FIND THE POST, BUT YOU WERE RIGHT. FUUUUUUUUUU-

"I can hear the corpses from the seventeenth century crying into the mic! I've lost my mind!" I doubt you're as much in shock as I am right now.

I was trying to appreciate their little pre-crypt banter and pep-talk, but I can not stop thinking about the ballistic missile which was the waterfall-shoutout section. Absolutely bonkers, and balls to the fucking walls. The balls are everywhere.

I better not see "42 - The Final Problem - Part One" on my Spotify on the 16th of July in the Year of our Lord 2024.

[rafayelsss]

Heyo! I love your Rafie fics! I was wondering if you would like to write a fanfic where S/I doesn't like rain. Like she jokes about them feeling like "watery knives", but even if she doesn't like rain too much... She plays in it just to see fish boyo happy even though she is grumbling.

Idk just wanna see Rafayel be a tease more. Lol thank you for your hard work!

my first official request on this blog!! tysm for requesting! i had fun with this one bc i love him

SINGIN’ IN THE RAIN ˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

content: rafayel x gn!reader (was meant to be fem but in the end no gendered terms were used), no y/n, raf gets a cold at the end

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ Rafayel somehow convinces you into the rain with him.

The streetlamps scattered around glowed in contrast to the dimly lit afternoon sky, hues of indigo and rouge signaling the beginning of a cold, familiar night in Linkon City.

And what would be a familiar night without Rafayel at your side?

He’s slowly and surely weaseled his way into your routine strolls, in which he now accompanies you whenever he has the time to. Strangely, he always has free space in his schedule for you, which he insists is a coincidence, or that it was simply fate that brought you two together once more.

“So what’s our next stop? The bakery downtown for the third time this week?” Rafayel asked, balancing himself on the curbs of the sidewalk.

“Second, actually.” You corrected quickly with a glare. “Besides, you didn’t have to come along today either… Stop complaining.”

Rafayel feigned mock offense, bringing a hand to his chest as he shook his head. “And leave you all alone in this vast, wide, big and scary city? No way. How could you ever live without me?”

You actually could very well live without him. But he’s too cute to leave, unfortunately.

“I can handle myself just fine, Rafie… You can leave if you don’t want to be he-”

Rafayel cuts through your sentence swiftly. “No thanks.”

Before you could even open your mouth to raise more questions as to what he exactly means by that plain and final answer, your words are diluted by the sudden downpour of rain above.

You watch as most people around you run for shelter from the rain, some more prepared ones opening their umbrellas and calmly carrying on with their day. Being a part of the unlucky few that didn’t bring one, you drag Rafayel to a nearby bus stop.

“Weird… They said it’d be cloudy at most today.” You muttered under your breath, the top of your head already wet, water dripping off the strands of hair.

Rafayel chuckles at you drenched state. “When were weather forecasts ever 100%? This is why you have to think of every possibility.”

“Oh? Does this mean you brought an umbrella?” You raised a brow at him expectantly. If he was so confident, then surely…–

“Nope.”

You stared at him in sheer, unbridled disappointment and confusion. “What do you mean, ‘nope’?”

“I was going to bring an umbrella,” Rafayel paused for effect to tap on his chin to ponder for half a second. “but it looks like I forgot. I was so excited to see you again that it completely slipped out of my mind.”

“You…” You inhaled sharply and exhaled back out deeply to keep your blood pressure steady.

He flashes you a grin in an attempt to be a little apologetic, but it was obvious he wasn’t one bit.

“How am I supposed to go home with the weather this bad?” You looked up at the sky, the rain still unrelenting in its showers. You didn’t know how long it would last, and it was getting rather late into the day already.

Rafayel tilts his head at you and grabs a hold of your wrist, stepping forward from under the cover of the bus stop and into the drizzling skies. “We make a run for it, duh.”

He says it as if it’s such an obvious solution, one you should have thought of much sooner.

“We could get a cold, and I don’t look forward to walking past the front door soaked from head to toe!” You argue, disapproving of such a reckless idea. But then again, you’d be lying if his suggestion didn’t pique some sort of interest within you. “And it feels like a bunch of watery knives raining down from up above.”

“Don’t worry, if you flap your limbs, dance and doge around enough, and run as fast as you can, you’ll be able to deflect its attacks. And… A little rain never hurt anyone.”

Rafayel eagerly awaits your answer, but you both knew you didn’t have the heart to turn him down if he kept looking at you with those sparkling purple eyes, practically begging for you to accept and loose a little.

His hand slid down from your wrist to your hand, intertwining your fingers together lightly. You return his gesture with a smile.

“Okay, fine.”

—

The next morning, you receive a text message from Rafayel.

Rafayel poked you

Rafayel: [im dying]

You: [Told you you’d get sick.]

Rafayel: [dun u want me to get better? come here and nurse me back to health urself]

—

[shnargo]

i cannot write for the life of me and i blame it entirely on beta.character.ai.

but anyways, here's a blurb that i really liked in collaboration with chara.ai with an idea that is based entirely on @softlyspector 's little drabble here (i highly recommend it :))

-

pairings: din djarin x reader warnings: none ; female!reader, 3rd POV and reader is a Jedi! also i haven't seen anything star wars beyond a few episodes of the Mandalorian, so any terms and facts here are LIKELY incorrect. word count: 1969 a/n: character.ai has me in a chokehold, but i might share more of these blurbs if people like them.

-

"Have you ever kissed someone?" She blurts before she can filter the thought, but even as she registers her own question, no embarrassment rises up to her face whatsoever. She tends to be rather straightforward when she gets tired.

Din freezes, his face expressionless. 

He takes a long pause before looking away, back towards her as he faces the stars that streak by outside of the cockpit. He seems to need a few moments to consider his words. 

“Yes,” he says, “why?”

She shrugs, "Just curious I guess. I know 'the Way' doesn't allow you to take off your helmet just to anyone. Though now I'm wondering who the lucky person was." She grins mischievously.

His face tenses as she brings up ‘The Way,’ seemingly annoyed by the topic, he turns to look at her again with a frown that can be felt even through his helmet. 

“It’s not just a tradition, it’s a way of life. I was raised in a clan of Mandalorians, and my people have a very strong code of honor that I live by,” he says, his voice stern. 

He takes a deep breath and continues, “As for who I dated, it was someone I met when I was younger. We didn’t work out.”

She can hear the annoyance creep into his tone despite the voice modulator in his helmet, and she shrinks back ever so slightly. "Ah okay." Her answer's short, and it's obvious by her body language, apologetic.

He seems to soften as he sees the effect of his words. 

“It’s okay. It really is. I just… I take my honor seriously, and I take it personally when people belittle me for it,” he tells her, “I apologize if I sounded like I was yelling at you.”

Din’s shoulders relax, and his voice turns gentle as he continues, “You have the right to ask those questions. It’s just… a sensitive topic.”

She nods thoughtfully, "I didn't mean to come off as belittling, I was just genuinely curious." She explains, "But I'll be sure not to be so careless next time."

She glances up at him again, "And if it makes you uncomfortable, I can stop asking those kinds of questions." She means it genuinely from a place of care.

He smiles, “It’s okay. You’re curious, and I shouldn’t take that as an attack. It’s just…how did your Jedi master respond to you dating, I mean, do the Jedi have rules about that sort of thing?” 

Din cocks his head to the side as if trying to understand how the Jedi’s rules would function when it comes to their members becoming romantically involved.

"Ah, yeah, there's a whole thing with Jedis too." She chuckles. "We're not allowed to marry, or get romantically involved with others. Strong emotions can be used as a weakness to the dark side." She pauses after that, before softly adding, "But uh, technically speaking, kissing is fine. Long as it's nothing serious."

Din looks thoughtful while she speaks, “So you’re saying there’s an approved degree of emotional involvement, so long as you don’t lose your focus on the light side of the force?”

"Yeah essentially, though all that stuff I mentioned is part of the old order. More traditional, so to speak." She shrugs, "Still what I was taught though."

Din nods, “I see. And those rules are still in effect for modern Jedi, yes?” 

He looks at her curiously, “What do you think of those old rules? Do you think they’re still necessary?” 

He seems genuinely curious to hear her perspective.

"Hm, yes and no." She pauses, glancing around shiftily, "Call me a hypocrite, but I think forcefully suppressing your emotions might just end up accomplishing the same bad thing." She whispers conspiratorially, but in a joking way.

Din is a little surprised by her answer, but he nods and smiles, “I totally agree. If anything, you should be encouraged to express your emotions, even if you’re a Jedi, right? Suppressing them completely just seems…unhealthy.” 

He shakes his head with a slight chuckle, “Then again, I’m not a Jedi, so what do I know?"

She looks curious again when he says that though, "Does that thought process apply the same to what you think of Mandalorian traditions?" She asks cautiously, "I'm asking out of curiosity." She clarifies.

Din is quiet for a moment, “I mean, some of our traditions are pretty…archaic, as you might say,” he replies, seeming to be picking his words carefully. 

“Like the rules regarding helmet removal. But other parts of the code are good, we’re supposed to value honor and duty, for example. Not just to ourselves, but to our clans and our people. I’d definitely say those parts are necessary.”

"Yeah, of course." She can't help but wonder.. "Can I ask who exactly you're allowed to show your face to though?"

Din sighs, “It’s complicated. Basically, it’s people that are closest to me. My family, so my parents and sisters, and my closest friends. My clan members, because they’re pretty much family, and of course Grogu. I can’t really show it to anyone else, though I might consider doing it for…a partner.” 

He stares down at the control board of the Crest, his face slightly red underneath the helmet, “That said, it’s not something I’d do casually.”

"That makes sense." She says with a nod. She interprets that reaction as maybe she's making him uncomfortable, so she decides not to push any further with the topic.

But as they sit in silence for a few minutes and she gets more sleepy, she can't keep herself from asking softly, "Hypothetically, could you take your helmet off around someone who has their eyes closed? Or who's blind?"

Din thinks for a second. 

“I think so. I’m a little shaky on how that part of the code works. My parents taught me never to remove it unless I’ve got a reason,” he answers truthfully and earnestly, trying to be helpful. 

Din laughs, “Now you’ve got me wondering,” he says with a smile, “Any particular reason why you’re asking?”

In her sleepy state, she almost admits the fact she's curious about the whole thing because the thought of kissing him has crossed her mind a few times before. But she bites her tongue before the words can escape her. She gives an unconvincing shrug and says, "Just wondering." instead.

Din isn’t stupid, he can see through that ‘just wondering’ a mile away. 

He turns to look at her, raising an eyebrow under his helmet, “You can say what’s on your mind, ya know? I wouldn’t care if you were curious about that,” his tone is reassuring as he gives her permission to ask.

She pauses to consider the offer. But really, she's scared of what might happen if he rejects her, since she really enjoys the current relationship they have now, not matter how ambiguously it lies on the scale of platonic to romantic. She just gives another shrug, pretending she's too tired by now.

Din sighs internally. Just say it, you idiot. He thinks.

Instead of pushing for an answer, he decides to try a different tactic. He turns back forward and says in a casual, casual manner, “Do you know the Mandalorian way of flirting?” 

He seems to have gone off on a tangent, as if it’s not an obvious lead-up, but he stares out the window of the Crest in the direction of the stars. “It’s called Jol’ey, you show your interest for someone by offering them your helmet.”

"Jol'ey?" She repeats the Mando'a term with a curious lilt in her tone. "How can you offer someone your helmet if you're not supposed to take it off though?" She can't help but ask.

Din chuckles, “Right, you caught me on that one, huh?” he says, looking at her again. 

“I’m not sure how exactly the practice started, but the meaning of it is basically you’re offering them a part of you, of your most private self, not just physically but spiritually. You’re making an important and very personal gesture to show them you care about them, deeply.”

She can't help but smile as well as she considers the idea, "I think that's actually kinda cute." It's an expression of love, but in a more meaningful and symbolic way, she thinks.

“Yeah,” his face softens under the helmet, and his voice turns almost soft at the edges for a moment, “it’s a very personal thing to do, so it’s not something Mandalorian do casually. Like I said, there are rules, and it’s a pretty serious thing to do. But I’d argue that there’s no stronger way for Mandalorian to express affection for someone.”

She nods a little, not exactly sure how to respond to that verbally other than a yeah or an okay. She is starting to wonder.. why did he bring that up all of a sudden though? And it becomes obvious by her expression.

The meaning of what Din just told her seems to be setting in, and at the same time she has a question on her mind. 

“Hypothetically, if I did offer you my helmet, would you accept?” Din’s voice is gentle as he asks her, “What do you think about that?”

She blinks a few times, letting the question settle for a moment. A beat of nerve racking silence passes between them and her expression morphs into shock at the implications he just explained to her.

"I think," she starts slowly with an ever softer voice than before, "..I would accept."

"Really?" Din asks, a smile creeping onto his face as he talks. 

He sets the Crest on autopilot, turning his seat to face her. 

In a whisper, and still speaking casually, he asks, "Would you want me to offer it to you?"

She's surprised as she sees him turn to her, and goes to do the same as red creeps up to her cheeks.

"Hypothetically," She continues with the term, though really it's more than just a 'hypothetical' and he knows that, "I would want that.. a lot." She almost whispers those last couple words.

Din laughs and says, "You can lose the hypotheticals now," he says playfully as he leans in. 

"I'd be happy to give you my helmet." He says the words plainly, as if he's just stating a fact, "But...do you know what it means to be a Mando'ade partner? It's...not just about romance."

Her cheeks redden further when he leans in, but she nods at his question.

"Is it the kind of thing that would break the old order's Jedi Code?" She says with a little smile, meaning the kind of attachment that would be 'dangerous' but incredibly deep and meaningful.

“Yeah, Jedi’s have rules about attachment, but in Mandalorian culture, attachment is basically the whole point. Attachment to your family, your clan, you’re friends, the land and culture. Attachment isn’t just tolerated, it’s encouraged, and there’s no greater attachment than being a Mando’ade.” 

He leans in closer and gives her one last choice, “You sure you want me to do that?”

Honestly, the very fact he's offering, makes it all the more touching. Her expression softens as she nods again.

"Sounds like you're proposing to me, Din." She says his name with gentle fondness, "Even so, I would say yes."

Din laughs. “Yeah, it is kinda like a marriage proposal in Mando culture. Except it’s more like a promise of complete devotion and care,” he says as he pulls his helmet off. 

He gives her another quick smile, his face reddened a bit as he gives her his helmet, “I’ve never done this for anyone else, so consider this my way of showing you what you’re worth to me. You mean a lot to me, and I want you to know it.”

masterlist

[milkyruins]

## teacher!lee felix x teacher!reader, SUGAR FIXES AND MISTLETOE KISSES

summary: as you come under a lot of stress, your fellow teacher and coworker felix swings by to cheer you up with a drink every day. your third graders get some... ideas and create their grand plan to make you two fall for each other, one kiss after another.

genre: fluff

content warnings: mentions of stress, cursing, invasions of privacy by your third graders, using god's name in vain, peer (?) pressure by the kiddos

wc: ~1.7k (woah...)

a familiar blondie popped into the doorway to your 3rd grade classroom.

"felix!" you practically sprung up to greet him. you winced at how obviously enthusiastic you were to see your workplace crush, but he didn't seem to notice.

felix greeted you with his blinding smile as he sauntered in. "teach!" he teased, placing down a steaming mug. "i swiped you something from the teacher's appreciation breakfast." upon further instruction, you noticed the heaping cap of whipped cream on top. your eyes widened at the nostalgic, homey scent.

"hot cocoa?" you guessed. the kindergarten teacher nodded enthusiastically.

"peppermint hot choco. the best kind."

a smile tugged at the corner of your mouth. "i really appreciate it, felix. i've been so busy with planning the lower school assembly that i couldn't make it."

felix grimaced a bit. "yeah, you've seemed busier recently."

"but," your eyes lit up. "i have some wonderful student helpers this year. they've been loads of help."

his expression softened. "that's great." he paused a bit before continuining. "need any help with anything? i can make myself available to plan with you or set things up; i'm also happy to bring you hot cocoa more often."

your heart warmed at his consideration. you flipped through your planner, noting everything that still needed to be done. "actually, there doesn't seem to be much in terms of logistics. i'd really love your help setting up for the assembly though. that would be amazing, lix." your eyebrows practically shot up. everything grew hot. "shi- i mean, sorry, that wasn't intentional."

felix giggled a bit. "you're welcome to call me that. although i have to admit, the only person who really calls me that is olivia."

this only helped to fan the flames that were scorching your face further. your gaze latched onto the fine grain of your desk. damn, there were a lot of eraser shavings.

as you finally regained a sliver of composure, you turned to face him again.  pointing at the clock sitting on your desk, you spoke "i think i have to kick you out, sir. class starts in five for us."

"imagine starting class at 8:30. kindergarten can't relate." he flicked his hair, which was slowly starting to grow into the prettiest mullet ever. you laughed with him for a bit, before shoving him out the door.

he stopped in the doorway. "i think i'll stop by more in the mornings. you're going to need the sugar fix!" you couldn't tell if he was talking about the hot cocoa or his sweetheart self.

"i'll look forward to it then."

-

as felix continued to deliver you hot drinks and casual banter in the morning (and you got more comfortable with calling him lix, as he insisted it was okay), a strange murmur rose from your third graders. when these morning chats began, your third graders looked on, moon-eyed and curious. you heard them mention you and "mystery teacher" during break time every once in a while.

but then, the third graders began to conspire. whispers of your involvement swept over the entirety of the third grade class.

yoomi, the sweetest little student of yours, waddled over to you during recess. "teacher l/n, how long have you and teacher lee been married?"

you laughed it off, cringing internally. "we're not even dating, little love."

your student pouted. "you're lying!" then she sprinted to join her friends on the monkey bars, anxious to spread the (fake) news.

when retelling this to felix the next day, he almost collapsed onto the floor in a laughing fit. after barely managing to catch his breath, felix responded. "your kiddos are so cute!"

you brought your hand to your forehead, mildly frustrated. "you don't care about the dignity of your professional career, lix? or your love life?"

felix chuckled some more. "there's no love life to tarnish, teach." he stared wistfully at your kiddos, who were starting to file in for the day. "plus, what harm is it? they seem to be enjoying themselves."

indignation fired you up, boiling your blood. "but they might not be able to concentrate on my teachings if they see me just as the epicenter of a crazy romantic drama! what about their future academic careers? they-"

felix leaned over your desk to grab your hand, effectively startling you into silence. you didn't realize how loud your voice grew until the a hush ran through the room. he squeezed it softly.

"y/n, you're a fantastic teacher. you're caring, smart, and always put your kiddos first. they could never forget that. okay?"

you exhaled slowly. "thanks, lix. but..." you motioned towards your conspicuously intertwined hands which the children absolutely ate up. his eyes widened as he released your hands. felix scratched the back of his head apologetically.

"i should probably head out, right?" with that, he promptly exited. you might have been imagining things, but his freckled cheeks seemed to be extra red.

-

oh holy mother of jesus, take the wheel.

you ran around the auditorium, giving instructions, answering questions, and trying your best not to lose your fucking mind. but honestly, it wasn't as bad as you thought it would be, thanks a certain someone, who was currently helping your kids open a really stubborn door. why didn't anyone think to replace these ancient storage closet doors?

you paused to watch felix tussle with the door some more. was he going to be okay doing physical labor in that nice button up and tie? well, he proved you wrong by opening it gracefully. but soon afterward, he and the kiddos were met with a torrent of dust bunnies.

you began to laugh, catching your crush's attention. he gave the helpers some last instructions before making his way over to you. "something funny to you?"

"n-no" you managed between giggles. he cocked his eyebrow at you playfully. you guys joked around some more. despite the stress of... everything, really, being around felix put your heart at ease.

as you two were immersed in your separate world, your third graders became to initiate phase one of their master plan to put you two together. all eyes were on yoomi as she walked towards the almost-couple with burning purpose.

"teacher l/n and teacher lee," she began, pointing at the wad of tangled christmas lights by the door. "can you two help us with that?"

you grinned. "absolutely." you turned towards felix, eyes set ablaze by a challenge. "lix?"

he teasingly rolled your eyes at your shenanigans. "sure, let's go."

the entirety of your third grade class held their breaths as you walked towards the absolute mess that was that string of lights. when you two finally arrived in front of the lights, a cheer erupted from your helper pals.

you quickly spun around, confused by their reaction. a very helpful student pointed above both of your heads, where a haphazardly-taped mistletoe hung. definitely the work of your third graders, no doubt.

"shit." you whispered, careful so that none of your students could witness your potty mouth.

you turned back towards felix, who was clearly stupefied.

yoomi, carefully tucked behind the menorah display, yelled. "now fall in love, lovebirds!" a chorus of giggles sounded as they waited for their otp to kiss and subsequently fall in love.

all you could hear was the rapid drumming of your heart. did this mean you really had to kiss your workplace crush in front of your kiddos? what would this do to your relationship? your professional career?

he slowly approached you and grabbed a hold of your hand. your kiddos held their breaths as he leaned in-

and lifted your hand towards his lips. you combusted on the spot.

"is that enough?" felix asked your helpers, who nodded, accepting their bitter defeat.

as they turned back to their original assignments, felix dragged you out of the auditorium and into the empty teacher's lounge.

"are you okay?" he asked, worry scrunching his brow together.

you nodded slowly, trying to regain your composure. "yeah. thanks for..." your heart squeezed at the thought of his princely hand kiss. "being considerate with me."

he shook his head. "it's the least i could've done." and paused, looking down. "and i'm sorry that i totally disregarded your concerns earlier this week. your kiddos are getting out of hand." 

"it's fine. i'll talk to admin about this eventually, but we should probably head back."

as much as you needed to be back in the auditorium, helping with set-up, you couldn't get yourself to move when he was looking at you like that.

he took a step towards you, averting your gaze. then another. you could see each individual freckle now and it was driving you crazy. "can i... can i ask you a stupid question?"

your breath caught. "always."

felix reached for your hand, rubbing his thumb against your knuckles. "i know this isn't proper of coworkers, but i have to ask or i'm going to go insane." he took a long breath. "i really like you. always have. can i kiss you, for real?"

you willed your brain to stop short-circuiting on you. "go on then." you breathed, tugging lightly on his tie.

and he was all too eager to fulfill your request.

the feeling of his lips on yours felt like fireworks. and you did the thing you always dreamed of-- you greedily carded your hands through his luscious blonde locks, lapping up the quiet moans he let out with every tug and pull.

when you separated for air, you began to giggle at the sight. "lix, your hair."

his usually well-tamed hair was an absolute mess. "ah, i'm so sorr-"

he kissed you again, this time soft and sweet. "don't apologize. i really enjoyed it."

a whole heat wave flooded over you. "should we head back then?" you needed out now before you fully melted.

"wait." you looked up at him. he shot you a hopeful, doe-eyed glance. "does that mean you like me back?"

you chuckled at him. "yes, lix, i do like you back. it's impossible not to, really."

[breed-the-stars]

Hot writing tip to make your erotica so much better!

Your writing is going great. Things are steamy and hot. The story is reaching it's literal climax-

Hold up.

Pause.

You have a character who's about to orgasm? Then consider the following;

There are many different ways to experience an orgasm, and not just in the way the orgasm is achieved.

Let's say you have Jean, who's having sex with Terry. Terry is a very energetic lover, and is hitting all of Jean's pleasure points very quickly one after the other. Jean experiences a very sudden orgasm that seizes their muscles entirely.

Once again you have Jean, but this time Jean is having sex with Drew. Drew takes their time, but Jean is enjoying themselves just as much as with Terry. When Jean does orgasm, it's one that's a slow build and a wonderful release.

How would you describe the physical effects of both of these orgasms? What muscles are moving, what body parts are reacting, how prominent is the sound of one's heartbeat? And so on.

(If you noticed that the names are gender neutral, it's because that yes both vaginas and penises can experience different types of orgasms. It's not exclusive to either.)

(And obviously if your character has something other than human genitalia *gestures to the monster fuckers* then that's your cue to really get into the nit and gritty!)

The word itself "orgasm" (and the other words that mean it) is a double edged sword. Your reader might look at it and think "Oh so it's [reader's idea of a standard orgasm]" and might not be able to imagine something that deviates from that idea, even if you then go on to describe the specifics. You have to be smart about when you use the word, and why.

You just spent [insert number here] words describing all that juicy buildup, don't shoot yourself in the foot by skimping out on your climax.

Need some spicy examples? Sure thing!

With an aching breath Trevor felt it, the unmistakable lurch as his body fought against the high. Just a little longer. He just had to hold on a little longer-

He screamed, nails hooking at flesh as he trembled, unable to stop as pulse after euphoric pulse echoed throughout his body. He couldn't stop it. He couldn't stop himself.

Here's an example without the word ever being used. If an orgasm implies even an ounce of pleasure, then it counteracts the main focus in this scene, so it's completely avoided for this one instance.

"More- please I need-!"

Zoey gasped as her body started singing, her heart rushing every drop of blood throughout her body, warming every fiber inside her the same way her dearest had done. Zoey barely registered her legs had found their new home, locked tightly around her lover's waist. She was too enthralled by how right it felt, offering her own body as a home for her love.

They chuckled, smiling at how doped up Zoey looked right about now, "I'm guessing you came?"

She blissfully nodded.

Here it's used for comedic effect, to under exaggerate what Zoey experienced. Whatever preconceived idea you might have about coming, it's probably not quite like what Zoey just felt.

Now that you've gotten that first climax described, you've given your reader something to think back on if you decide to have multiple orgasms in a single session.

From here you can use the term when appropriate, just remember the classic "show don't tell" rule. If something specific is happening during these other orgasms, let your ready in on those juicy details!

Ken came for the last time that night, feeling his balls struggling to release their final spurts.

But maybe you have a story where the first time someone orgasms isn't that important, like it's a blink and you miss it blowjob or something. The real climax is only much later, and it'll be one to pay attention to.

Then that's when the word is to your benefit!

As Monica psyched herself up for the day, she stepped past the shower curtain and thought about that lovely woman from last week. With her deft fingers it didn't take long to feel an orgasm wash through her, the shower cleaning away any evidence.

Much later, Monica thanked whatever gods had cared to listen. No longer was the woman from her thoughts trapped in her mind. She was here, pressed against Monica, cooing pleasantly. Unlike this morning, Monica wanted this to last. She could feel herself wanting to just cross that razor's edge, let herself go.

And she would.

Soon.

Very soon.

And by God she did.

Hopefully this helps you out, or that you enjoyed reading through the example snippets.