#does that mean we wouldn’t click well?

[rosicheeks]

I am a Virgo but I absolutely love how bubbly and sometimes goofy you are 😍😍😍🙏😘

Ok ok ok why did you say ‘but’ though

[saetoru]

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩ BURNER ACCOUNTS — GOJO SATORU.

contents. fem! reader, loser ex-boyfriend! satoru, exes to lovers, college! au, satoru making burners to watch your stories, miscommunications—satoru is not perfect but he’s trying okay?, gossip icons shoko & suguru <3, i had a silly idea and it turned into 2.6k words my bad

there’s a peculiar account watching your instagram stories—@user273582838, to be exact. you don’t think it’s a very well timed coincidence seeing as you and satoru have just broken up—so you decide to do some digging. 

which of course, means enlisting the help of shoko.

“i think satoru is stalking me,” you mumble, making her pause in the middle of sipping on her energy drink—for a med student, her habits don’t seem every healthy. this is her third one of the day.

“okay,” she nods, “i wouldn’t put it past him, but what makes you say that?”

“look,” you turn your phone to face her, the blank, anonymous instagram account right there on the list of users who have viewed your story. she crinkles her brows, blinking for a moment before humming.

“that definitely seems like something he’d do,” she nods—and then, “i have an idea.”

“okay,” you brighten, nodding enthusiastically, “what’s the plan?”

“try and log in with that user.”

“shoko,” you look at her like she’s grown two heads. maybe the lack of sleep is finally getting to her—no amount of energy drinks can save her at this point. “we don’t have the password—”

“—and that, dummy,” she rolls her eyes, making you scowl at the name, “is why we click forgot my password and see the last four digits of the phone number that registered the account. if it’s satoru’s number, we’ll know.”

okay—you take it back. shoko is a genius and a full-blown brilliant mastermind that you could never hope to come close to. you’re glad you chose her to help—you’re even more glad she agreed because you would not have thought of that. this is fantastic. a fool-proof plan. 

you grin wide, eyes lighting up as you gasp, “shoko! you’re so smart, that’s a great idea!”

“i know,” she grumbles, “took you long enough to notice.”

ignoring her, you quickly pull out your phone and try to log onto the account, typing user273582838 into the username box and clicking forgot my password. shoko is hovering over your shoulder, and your breath is held as you wait for the page to load and the number to pop up. within just a few seconds, the first few digits are censored with asterisks, but the last four show, and—

yeah. it’s satoru’s fucking number. just as you suspected—you and shoko scoff together at the same time, rolling your eyes. 

“well,” you look at her, lips pursed in irritation—of course, satoru refuses to give you space and leave you alone after your break up (which was his fault, might you add), “what now?”

“send the verification code to his number,” she presses, “it’ll definitely spook him when he sees.”

she’s so good at what she does, you think in awe, staring at her with heart-eyes. nodding quickly, you press send code. 

hopefully, that’ll give satoru the heart attack you want it to.

———

satoru stares at his screen in abject horror—who could be trying to log into his burner account? the only person who should possibly stumble across it is you, but surely you’re not closely inspecting your story viewers, are you? so then, who could be trying to log onto the instagram account of @user273582838?

“suguru,” he says in a trance, “are you trying to log onto the burner?”

“are you bringing that shit up again?” suguru grumbles, controller in hand as he pays attention to the screen, “i told you that was a stupid idea. a pathetic one too—”

“well, i didn’t want to keep waiting for you to send screenshots to see the stories—”

“you’re a fucking loser, do you know that? pathetic,” suguru reiterates. “move on.”

“no,” satoru hisses in disbelief, “why would i do that? now, was that you or not? you’re the only other person who knows the user.”

“as if i care to log onto your loser burner account,” suguru snorts, shaking his head in amusement. he beats satoru’s high score, turning to give him a sly grin as he adds, “i wasn’t removed, so i can view the stories all i want.”

“you’re a jerk, you know that?” satoru grunts, crossing his arms and pouting, “i’m having the worst heartbreak of my life, and you—”

“who’s fault is it that you’re dumped?”

satoru deflates. 

okay, so he supposedly hasn’t been the best boyfriend. it’s not that satoru isn’t helplessly committed to you—he’s so sickeningly obsessed with you, it’s actually a bit unhealthy. suguru says so, at least. but satoru is…well, satoru, and he doesn’t always seem to take things as seriously as most people would hope. 

evidently, that includes your relationship—though, he does insist on disagreeing on that. according to you, he doesn’t take you on dates often enough, and sometimes he flirts back with random strangers. that’s not true—he’s simply a bit of a tease and enjoys it when you’re jealous, but he doesn’t flirt back. that’s outrageous. you’ve even claimed he’s mean about it and makes a joke out of it all—satoru would never be mean on purpose; he only teases because the banter is always endearing. 

but, unfortunately, you don’t seem to see it the way he does, and now he’s woefully single and cold and alone in bed. no cuddles, no goodnight kisses, and no head scratches. 

life is so cruel sometimes. 

“suguru,” he says in distress, “i’m serious. someone’s trying to hack my burner—who could it be?”

“hmm, i don’t know…maybe the one and only person who would notice the account in the first place?”

“but why try and log in if the password is unknown?”

suguru looks at satoru like he’s stupid—apparently, he is because he’s not putting two and two together. 

“maybe because sending a verification code shows the last four digits of the registered phone number? you’ve probably been caught, you idiot.”

satoru pales at that—he didn’t think about that. it slipped his mind completely. fuck, he should’ve used a burner email instead. he stares down at his phone numbly—yeah, he thinks, he’s screwed. 

———

after two days of continuous log in attempts into satoru’s burner account—it’s only just to spook him extra—you finally decide to confront him. 

we need to talk. is all you send him. 

the three bubbles appear on his end multiple times before disappearing—you and shoko get a good cackle out of that and laugh at him for a bit before he finally answers. 

miss me already? knew it ;)

wow. what a dickhead. 

so, because you can be equally as much of a prick, you send him a screenshot of his phone number on the log in page followed by a message that says: no. it’s so you can explain this. 

the three dots show up again for a few minutes before he finally responds with: okay. you caught me. when do you wanna meet?

well, that was easy. satoru is the type to not go down without a fight no matter how cornered he is—he’s stubborn and annoying like that. you turn to shoko for help.

“meet him now,” shoko crosses her arms, “don’t give him time to come up with some ridiculous excuse.”

“what excuse could he possibly come up with?” you snort, “that he was possessed and the evil spirit in his mind made him stalk his ex like a loser?”

“true,” she concedes, taking a sip from her energy drink—seriously, how many of these does this girl drink in a day? “i just want to know what happens,” she shrugs, “so do it now.”

of course, as on brand as ever, shoko is merely in it for the drama. you roll your eyes before sighing and nodding. 

“okay,” you huff. 

meet me at my place. now.

on my way, he sends back almost instantly. 

“he’s probably just excited to see you,” shoko snorts, “like the loser he is.”

“you’re probably right,” you purse your lips in exasperation. in all your time knowing him, you’ve definitely realized that satoru is definitely…well, a case. 

———

“hey,” shoko whispers to suguru through the phone, walking out your door so you can prepare to confront satoru. “did you know satoru’s been stalking—”

“—on a burner account? yeah, i know.”

okay, she frowns to herself, that was no fun at all. suguru is already aware of the drama. but that’s no matter—surely, he can’t possibly already know that satoru has been invited over to be scolded. 

“yeah, well,” she says smugly, “did you know he’s actually on his way over to—”

“—get yelled at? yeah, i’m aware. he called me panicked. what a fucking loser.”

“okay, well since you’re up to speed,” shoko grumbles bitterly, rolling her eyes. she was supposed to be the knight in shining armor with the juicy updates—but evidently, satoru is pathetic enough to already cry to suguru about his dilemma. “wanna meet up and get sushi nearby? i bet they’ll get back together in twenty minutes.”

“i bet ten. loser pays for the food?”

“you’ve got yourself a deal.”

———

satoru sits on your couch in shame, bouncing his leg nervously as you sit on the opposite end with your arms crossed and brow raised. 

it’s quiet. he doesn’t have the guts to say anything, waiting for you to break the silence. maybe you’re not that mad.

“so,” you start, “it’s nice to finally meet you, user273582838.”

he rubs his neck awkwardly, chuckling through his nerves as he mumbles, “oh, hey there! it’s a small world, huh?”

“satoru.”

yeah, never mind. you seem pretty mad. 

“okay, look,” he begins, “you can’t blame me. you dumped me, your sweet, loving, and unsuspecting boyfriend out of nowhere! i was heartbroken and shattered—and then you didn’t even give me a chance to work it out! i was not in the right headspace to make wise decisions so…so this is basically not my fault.”

that doesn’t seem to help his case—in fact, it only makes it worse. 

“so it’s my fault?”

“wha—no!” he says quickly, “no, definitely not.”

you sigh, rubbing your forehead in defeat as you mumble, “satoru, we are broken up for a reason. you can’t overstep and—”

“it’s a pretty stupid reason,” he grumbles under his breath, crossing his arms and frowning. you glare at him from the side as you scoff in disbelief. 

“of course,” you chuckle dryly, “of course you would say that. nothing is ever serious enough to you—”

“it’s pretty fucking serious to me,” he spits, shooting you a look that tells you he’s just as shocked as you, “that’s obviously why i’m the one who’s still not moved on as easily as you. how seriously did you really take it?”

“that’s not fair,” you grit, “you made it abundantly clear you didn’t care enough, so why should i—”

“i fucking cared a shit ton,” he says incredulously, “that’s bullshit, and you know it—”

“don’t curse at me, satoru—”

“well, don’t accuse me of not caring when i clearly—”

“oh, yeah cause you cared so much when you were laughing with that waitress as she hit on you,” you seethe, throwing a pillow from your couch at him. he can catch it easily—you know this for sure, but he lets it hit him out of what you’re sure is at least a little consideration to your feelings. 

“i wasn’t laughing because i enjoyed it,” he crinkles his brows as if you’ve said the most ridiculous thing ever, “it was just funny because she was trying so hard. and you looked all cute when you got mad.”

“what kind of boyfriend enjoys watching his girlfriend get mad—”

“the kind of boyfriend who thinks his girlfriend is adorable when she’s mad—”

“yeah, well your idea of a date is going to the mall with shoko and suguru. what kind of date is that—”

“okay, i was a bit clueless sometimes, but you could’ve said something instead of just dumping me like i was some random guy in your dm’s—”

“you need to grow the fuck up, satoru—”

“now look at who's cursing!”

it’s silent—both you and him have your arms crossed and lips curled into scowls as you both glare at each other. you’re stubbornly convinced satoru doesn’t care as much as you do, and he’s firmly committed to the idea that you’re twisting him into some douche who doesn’t give two shits. 

it’s quiet like that for a bit before he deflates and slumps against the couch, rubbing his face as he groans. 

“look,” he starts, “i’m sorry. i never meant to make it seem like i enjoy attention from other girls, and i didn’t realize you wanted more dates. i’d have done things differently if you told me how you felt.”

he sounds sincere. and he’s looking at you with those eyes of his—god, those stupid little eyes that are so wide and blue and deep and full of love. even after that whole argument, satoru is clearly as painfully in love as ever. 

you sigh before playing with a loose thread on your sweatpants. 

“i…guess i could’ve talked it out first. i probably shouldn’t have skipped straight to breaking up,” you mutter, not meeting his eyes. 

satoru stares glumly at you from the corner of his eyes before he adds bitterly, “you don’t seem to miss me. not even a little.”

“toru,” you pinch your nose, “of course i miss you. i was not gonna be mopey on instagram, though—”

“doesn’t seem like it,” he huffs. he’s a bit hurt—you can tell because he’s not meeting your eyes, and he’s not got that playful little upward curl of his lips. 

you’re a bit weak, you realize—but you suppose you always have been for satoru, because you’re shuffling to his end of the couch and poking his cheek gently. 

“i miss you tons, y’know,” you murmur—you smile a little at his pout before adding, “i want more dates this time around. and stop letting girls get away with being shameless flirts.”

he finally meets your eyes—it’s like a child on christmas, the way his face lights up and his lips curl into an excited grin.

“you mean i get to be your boyfriend again?”

it’s cute—the way he asks to be your boyfriend and not if you’ll be his girlfriend. maybe you’ve been a bit unfair, maybe satoru has always cared deeply in his dumb little clueless way of his own. 

“fine,” you pretend to roll your eyes. he looks hopelessly excited as he wraps an arm around you and pulls you into his side, tucking you under his chin as he rests his cheek on your head. 

“you should really talk to me more,” he murmurs, “i’m…things fly over my head sometimes. i’m sorry.”

“i’m sorry too,” you admit, “i’ll talk to you—but you better listen to me if i do. don’t turn it into jokes.”

“i never turn things into jokes,” he grumbles petulantly, huffing to the side as you shoot him an unimpressed raise of your brow. “does this mean i can follow you again?”

“yes,” you snort.

“and you’ll follow back, right?”

“yes, satoru,” you sigh, shaking your head in amusement. he’s already back to being a handful—but you can admit you might have missed it just a bit. “but for the love of god, please delete that burner.”

“fine,” he pouts, tugging you closer. 

you giggle, he grins, and then you’re kissing—and everything feels as it should be. 

———

“they’re back together,” shoko says in disbelief, staring at your text. suguru groans, pausing mid bite as he rubs over his forehead in defeat. 

of course, you and satoru just have to make up in exactly fifteen minutes. not ten. not twenty. exactly fifteen. 

how considerate of you both. 

“are you kidding?” suguru grumbles, “so neither of us win.”

“guess not,” she says sourly, rolling her eyes. 

woefully, they both agree to split the check. 

suguru and shoko are so me and my friend every time our other friend argues with her boyfriend we deadass be making bets over when they make up and loser has to pay for boba LMAO

[gangplanksorenji]

Pulchritude

Pairing: ITZY’s Yeji x Male Reader

Word Count: 7,089

A/N: It's been a while Orenjideul! This wasn't planned to be on my draft schedule but planned at the same time LOL (pretty much quickly written). Also, thanks for @mintwithchoco for the beta-reading that made the insights about the fic!!

This was originally part of something I've been working on with and expanded it with such vague plot to probably spice things up. Enjoy reading!! <3

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

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

“You’re crazy for this one, Chaewon.”

“It’s not my doing—” Chaewon retorts, circling her fingers onto the rim of her glass with such a distinctive smell of a concoction that piques you, distracting you a little from her words. “—this is just a part of a test.”

She drinks from her glass and darts her eyes towards you, laced with anticipation and that hint of doubt in you. You smirk with her given stare, feeling that she's getting ahead of herself with it and she’ll soon eat up her words. Extending your arm a little onto the head of the chair, you look at her with vanity and such a playful intent that intimidates her a little. “I’d say you being here is somewhat helpful by all means…”

“And why is that?” 

Her eyes never fail to intimidate you, those orbs glowing in anticipation as she doesn't break her sophisticated demeanor. You fix your posture and lean closer to her, elbows on the table and your hands subtly clasped, answering her. “So I could let you know that you’ll be embarrassed at the end of the day.”

Chaewon’s hubris wouldn’t let your words slide and make her believe you, a chortle audible within your ears as she shifted onto her usual phlegmatic disposition. “We’ll see about that but for now—” Her well-manicured nails click the champagne glass two times, before giving a sly smile of a faulty sincerity. “—you gotta do what you gotta do.”

It wouldn’t end in a usual Chaewon fashion unless her drink is empty, sipping the last few milliliters of that delectable concoction, then getting off on her seat with her last words of the night. “Text me when you’ve done it, then we'll meet tomorrow afternoon.”

Grabbing her designer bag then leaving towards the doors of such a high-class bar, you could just sense the air reeking defeat all over you, but you’ll prove her wrong. You’ll just thank yourself for getting rid of her condescending nature albeit it really fuels your aim for victory, so is the upbeat music the bar brings. 

You’ll make things work and take that triumphant ecstasy up to your name, with someone’s panties on the floor. 

“I guess we need the devil inside me to take over.” Of course you will, and you’ll do that just about right.

---

Maybe the myths are true: sometimes, the devil does unspeakable things and it’s only a matter of time before it unveils its real nature. Not exactly an excerpt, a quote or the sayings of the elderly but mostly your own common conscience that has its own intersections of roads you can’t fathom nor follow—deep inside, you’re on a leash and Chaewon’s words intoxicates you, and you’ll prove her wrong after this. 

“We’re going to have some fun tonight.”

“Oh, do you think we will?” You ask pretty playfully and audaciously, playing with her possible games. You barely know her aside from being that time where you’d constantly steal glances with her during and after Chaewon’s existence at the bar and subconsciously know you’d always come. At that moment, you know something’s disturbed within you and it’s in a good way—this is something that’s completely going to serve gratification, and you can sense how strong your gut feeling is.

“We will.” The girl inches herself closer towards you, your back pressed against the cold concrete as she pins you with her frame, fidgeting her fingers onto the hem of your shirt and then the penultimate, such dexterous fingers circling around your chest.

You feel her minty breath mixed with a hint of tequila brush against your skin as you raise her head, eyes in contact with yours—you know she’s proving something, even just with her words but those wouldn’t be enough.

“Care for an introduction?” Your hands fancy its way onto her waist, as you endearingly looked at those sharp, monolid eyes of hers rivaling that alluring stare. 

Her eyes dart between your face and onto your body, as her voice speaks up in a volume.“Yeji. You can call me Yeji.” 

Her voice invites you, and you’re captivated with her sultry tone and god, that stare of hers would make any man fall upon your own judgment but on your shoes, it would bear such a challenge. Even with such temptation handled pretty well, you can’t help but hint such an invitation under her spell—those eyes, her sultry voice, such a beautiful face and the promised treasure of them all, her impeccable figure.

You’d like to start on something fresh, induce such a new chapter that’s bound to end up in such an incredible fashion but you could only assume those things, yet.

Well, you won’t fight yourself over some idiotic retaliation between your temptations and let yourself be the judge of her capabilities and this doesn’t help when she’s just inches away from laying such a mark that will define one’s lust.

Looking straight to the abyssal void of her eyes, you’re enticed as you lift off her chin with your finger. “There you go, I love a woman with manners.” You hit her up with her own medicine: tempting.

“Who says anything about manners?” Even such chagrins or predicaments wouldn’t stop her, not unless you tell her so as the only thing you could feel are those luscious lips locked against yours. 

The sounds of such muscle creating vacuum of sounds and suctions overpowers the fading noise of the music the bar resonates—all you can hear is her kisses up against yours and you’d love to listen to it all day. 

Nothing too short nor sweet, but god, this was enough to make such a bold verdict.

“A talented kisser, hm?” Yeji hums as she pulls away from your lips’ embrace, feeling captivated with the way you display such talent.

“A girl as pretty as you would make a man like this.” Your hands then freely roam to the limited skin her waist shows but you’re not the guy to complain, but to be grateful. “Now tell me something, Yeji…”

Yeji’s eyes widen; pupils dilate as she anticipates your next words, “Tell what?”

You smirk, as your buttons were pressed enough to make such a bold move. “Why would you want me? From all of the people there, why me?”

Yeji smirks just like you, then bites her lips, using such a modicum of her actions to indulge you even more. “I just know the world destined us to this moment—led us to this moment and god…” Yeji’s hands unbuttons the topmost button of your shirt as her hands permeate such heat onto your chest to push you onto the edge. “I know what you’re gonna give to me tonight.”

Such telepathic abilities enable you to read her thoughts, and you know exactly where she’s going towards, “Let me guess, a show for the world to know?”

“For the world to fucking know.” Yeji’s words end your sentence, and seal the deal.

Licking her lips in delight, you can feel her hands roam on your chest, your abdomen then the final stop, your growing bulge. She cups onto it like it’s something she would ruin and take care of, the best of both worlds as you let out such a nigh-inaudible moan, and Yeji knows exactly you’re liking this.

“You always need to ask.” And there she goes with her wonders.

All you can see is Yeji promptly getting on her knees, and with her absolute dexterity, does her talent to unbuckle and undress your bottom half more than a count to ten.

“God…” She’s mesmerized with the view she’s currently having: you, still in your boxers as her disposition clearly displays awe and amazement. “You’re hard already this fast? Must’ve turned you on too much?”

“Who wouldn’t with a girl like you?” It just shows your evident arousal, and Yeji’s grateful to bear such an entrance. Giving the green light, she then slowly strips off your boxers down to your ankles, mostly gravity doing the work and there she goes, such eyes gleaming with utter hunger and lust.

Her lips mouth such words full of awe as her hands cups the base of your erection, leisurely stroking it as she utters such profanity, “God, your cock is something else I didn’t expect.”

Your hubris just elevated, and let your commanding demeanor take over. “Glad it is. Now, show me what you’re made of.”

She wouldn’t lose against such a hubristic battle, and settles up for a possibly stellar moment. “I won’t disappoint.”

A clear view of her lips sends pecs around your length, letting you know the immediate worshiping and carnal needs fueling her for the time being. From the base up to your already leaking slit, she didn’t waste such precious time letting you know how much she loves this and it's just evident from the start. 

She grows impatient with her repetitive kisses and ups the ante, knowing how this will make your world go wild. “I may just find myself occupied more with this.”

“Less talking and more sucking.” As much as her patience grows thinner by the second, and so are yours. She scoffs off a giggle, knowing that the main event will be such a roller coaster ride.

With the last suction of her lips collecting that colorless liquid, she advances onto something pleasurable. Her tongue then dances around your red cockhead, swirling and permeating her saliva around, upping such sensitivity on your end and with that result, you shiver and inevitably moan in response.

She suckles on your swollen head, then advances past your frenulum to do the wonder she does to your slit and god, this was elevating the experience of such gratification.

“God, s-such a talented mouth, huh?”

“Gifted, I guess.” She continues her oral assault on your throbbing length, thrusting her head up and down as she quickly accelerates the pace up to both your likings. 

The quicker speed sums up the possible experience she has and it shows—such technique is unmatched with the way her tongue dances around your shaft and the little introduction of such a serrated culprit antagonizing the pleasure you’re experiencing, albeit, you wouldn’t bother with such little pain. She takes more than half of your shaft as spits dominate her heart-shaped lips, running down to her cheeks and onto her chin which shows the passion she’s giving in every second.

The occurrence won’t be complete without elevated stimulation: you’d just feel your balls being fondled by her right hand as she encourages more for you to feel. 

And it’s working well, too well for you to utter such compliments. “You’d make myself occupied too, i-if you want—shit, that’s great…”

An audible mhmm can be heard between her bobs as she elevated the speed, then resulting into such a mess that’s just turning you on even more. Saliva continues to drip down onto her chin and onto your clothes that’s probably damned to be given care with, tears flowing down her cheek as she takes more and suddenly, she tests her limits with a single act of boldness and bravery.

She rests her nose onto your abdomen, testing her gag reflex as she’s determined to tame it but in the end, it wasn’t in her favor. Gasps escape her mouth as she catches her breath, saliva connected onto those sinful lips was just the cherry on top yet your grow little concern, afraid she may push herself too much as soon as she coughed. “You good, Yeji?”

“I’m good—I’m good, I’m g-great—your cock is just addicting.” The succulence was evident with her repeated slurps onto your shaft, and you’re just in total bliss with her performance.

Things are not done, and she’d like to end the business with a good note.

She proved herself enough and with her immediate harsh pace, you wouldn’t be a hypocrite nor lie about it. The blurry orange-bobbing head of hers just becomes a repeated image tarnished in your brain, etched until the end of time. She continues what she’s best at, gripping your thighs for further display of talent and as a reply with the surging pleasure coursing through your veins, you opted to fight the leverage with the gripping of your hands onto her audacious head.

Constant slurps, gags and moans just became the music in the air and it’s just the paramount mood you're indulged into. You’d be damned if someone will see the both of you in such a sinful act but you don’t care anymore, not when Yeji’s mouth does explicit wonders on every inch of your body and clouding your mind with such sinful thoughts.

The head game is literally onto another level of experience, but such things wouldn’t last for so long.

She can feel your persistent throbs in her mouth, and it’s a common courtesy to ask where it will end. “You’re pretty close, I assume.”

“Yeah—” You groan in pleasure as she strokes your saliva-sheathed cock with the utmost pace her hands can muster. “—and I want it all over your face.”

Yeji just smiled mischievously, knowing how things will end up on a pivotal climax and how things will unveil between the both of you. “Then do it—cover me.”

All you can see are those pretty, sharp eyes in awe as she closes it, her visage in full display for you to paint on. This is a canvas worth investing such artwork on  and you’d besmirch it with such strokes worth millions. She moans as she feels each rope touches her face, mostly her cheeks, nose, lips, chin and some even getting onto her hair. Those fifteen seconds felt like a minute as you’re in a total state of bliss and for such a conclusion, she strokes you in hopes of milking you dry, emptying up your reservoir.

“God, that tasted great.” Yeji licks her lips and hums in satisfaction and when your senses are coming back to life, you ask her with such doubt.

“How would you clean up?”

Yeji chuckles as she stands up, facing you, “No one wouldn’t care.”

You smile sincerely as you dress your bottom-half up, satisfied as her voice invites you. “Let’s get out of here.”

She’s partly a monster; partly an angel in disguise, yet she can be the best of both worlds and it’s only a matter of time before depths will be reached.

---

Gone are the boisterous music ringing repeatedly in your ears and the alcohol that will probably dominate your body, because at this time, there’s nothing better than her lips locked against yours for the second time.

She feels ruthless and so were you, feeling her tongue dancing against yours and you gripping her waist harshly as you deepen such entanglement.

Her room was something pivotal about your already impeding arousal: dim lights, vanilla-scented air freshener and such a balcony for the both of you to enjoy, and maybe it’s something else than what’s usually known for people to do there.

“Never knew you could have such a room, Yeji.”

Yeji smirks as her nails dug into your skin gently, pressing it playfully as she mouthed her own pride. “This is nothing compared to anything you’ll see but for now, you’ll be more than my guest.” And then her eyes locked up against yours as those orbs wandered around your beautiful face.

Her eyes really tell you about her adoration, as the earlier test was just the tip of the iceberg, and guess what, you passed with flying colors.

“I’d love to be one, Yeji.”

You then share another torrid kiss with her, feeling attached to her ultimately and falling under her spell. She kisses you genuinely as you reciprocate, but you want more, so you pull out of her lips’ embrace, earning a moan from her as you find your way on peppering her neck with pecs and those sharp collar bones. 

You’d eventually take a glance of her flawless features, even though it’s evident ruined by you earlier but it’s such an important element of such undying beauty. You earned your minuscule rewards—her faint moans and chants calling you—and you’d love to double it, with more skin, your lips parts and marks.

“God, please—fuck…” Yeji’s pleas are audible enough for you to be distracted and it’s worth your while knowing it’s something that could elevate such an experience.

“Please what, Yeji?” You continue pecking her creamy, porcelain skin, suckling on it but not enough to result in hickeys and god, it just resulted in sexier moans escaping her lips. 

She’s struggling to articulate words that can formulate her wants, but she’d put up an end to such a clouding demise. “I want more—god—more, please…”

You grip her waist harsher, gaining such control as you pin her harder onto the wall and what a poor soul whimpering upon your own dominative assertion. You grant her needs as you caress her waist while peppering her with torrid kisses, resulting in such a cacophonous symphony that you would cherish hearing every second. 

You wanted more from her and her answer still made your satisfaction resting onto a low zero. “What do you want from me, baby?”

The word elicits a gasp from her mouth, feeling appalled with such a name she always finds hot and funnily enough, the stars are aligning. 

She whimpers but manages to think clearly and didn’t hesitate to be vocal about it, “Your cock, please—” 

As she’s about to advance her hands onto your clothes crotch, you stop her as you shake your head leisurely, having another plan in mind. “No—have some patience and also…” Yeji’s eyes scintillate beneath the dim light that appears as she’s anticipating what words could leave your mouth. “I gotta return the favor.” 

Your hands roamed its way onto the hem of her tight skirt, and asked such a question she can’t deny. “May I?”

She hitched a broken breath and gulped as she responded intimately, “Yes—yes, you can.”

Your fingers ran towards the edge of her skirt and eventually found the zipper and did such wonders, things that could easily soothe her and make her more comfortable. As much as you wanted to see it down on the floor, revealing her probably wet panties, you have other thoughts about your own, selfish arousal.

“Don’t want it on the floor?”

“This outfit, Yeji—” Your left hand then forced her figure pressed onto yours as she yelped with your immediate action, earning a startled whimper as her eyes looked at you like it’s her favorite candy. She loves your subtle harsh acts, and she won’t be deprived of any since this was just a gentle introduction. “—looks amazing on you.”

Yeji smiles as the compliment strokes her ego and how genuine you sounded, “Thanks, for—ooh, gosh!”

She yelped with your touch permeating on her legs as you roamed your hands towards her clothed regions which earned such a sultry, needy moan from Yeji. You can feel the heat that’s rivaling your cold hands and as the cherry on top, her wetness evident from her slit which is probably leaking right from the start.

You loosen up the zip of her skirt and god, she vocalizes how better it felt and maybe it’s mostly because of the fact that your fingers are pleasuring her crotch against that fine silk that’s about to be ruined thanks to your dexterity. It was pursuant to her and wherever she wants it, you’re going to follow it and with her subsequent moans, you’d like to let her know that your skills are up to par. Feeling the hunger running down your body, you can’t help but share another kiss, but this time, it feels chaste since all of the attention and unfeigned emotions are translated down with your fingers. They both felt like deprived lions from the wild, and such an inevitable kiss will bound to feed the pleasure the both of you are needing.

The evident bulge pokes down on your pants and Yeji was quick to notice that, cupping it and caressing to tame the beast. You moaned with her actions and so she is, too, but it's a repeated chant in your ears as she pleads with you for your own comfort. “Your cock, please.”

You didn’t care anymore, and knowing how the both of you wanted this then you wouldn’t deny her for doing the same thing you’re great at. Even with pleasure lingering onto every lobe in her brain, it won’t stop her to claim her promised prize as you help her undress your bottom-half, unbuckling your belt as she does the last step and all you can feel are your defenses going down, one by one as the raging beast that’s inside that clothed prison is about to be unshackled. 

The wait was worth it and the both of you are now in such a vulnerable state that a single touch would make a writhe or shiver as sensitivity is the culprit. Yeji’s fingers are on point and dexterous as expected—the way she danced her hands around your shaft, stroking it in a corkscrew motion is making you feel such bliss that’s unmatched and god, the scene is just hot.

You never thought the sight of the both of you masturbating would be so damn arousing and thought it was just some myth but yet again, hypocrisy is eliminated within the time being.

“God—you really can’t wait, huh?” 

“How can I? We need to mutually feel the same.” Yeji knows her pursuit against your aching beast wasn’t going to bother you, but rather the opposite. Her strokes were going livid as you groan with the lack of lubrication but it was exchanged by the pleasure that she gives you and of course, you wouldn’t lose onto this game and did the same, possibly vibrating your fingers and you maintain such an up and down motion which inevitably elicits such visceral moan from her.

The both of you did your best with your own expertise, doing such sinful things without even the main event is honestly criminal, and you would hold onto that because you want to make use of this and you’d prove to her you’re as good as she is.

“You’re fucking dripping, Yeji—god, did I turn you on so much?” Possibly a rhetorical question or maybe not, but either way, you know she’ll be a little irritated enough to defend her claim and quit such hypocrisy.

“N-No shit—you’re that talented too, huh?” You smile with her inadvertent compliment as you avert your eyes through her clothed crotch and it’s being ruined with her own doing, leaving such a masterpiece of clothing worthless, spoiled with her own juices.

“A natural, more likely—ah!” You yelp with Yeji’s sudden squeeze of your shaft in between her strokes as you glare at her playfully, her face then forming such a seductive smirk then a little scoff with your confidence. 

“You’re cocky too? God, you’re such a rare gem.”

A rare find, you suppose which is truly the truth—you’ll prove to her that there’s no one she can find that will be better than you. Your impatience is growing thinner by the second even with such a hot mess between both your crotches, and you’d let her know about your frustrations and needs.

“Yeji, I need to fuck you now.”

The tone is commanding, your face stern and her eyes widen with those simple words of need. Your eyes meet hers and they never lie—those glowing orbs of yours didn’t cease the exhilaration you’re feeling and she’s the one to blame. 

As much as it hurts for the both of you to stop, it will be rewarding once the climax settles in for such a spectacular show.

“How would you want me?” Yeji’s voice was bubbly but still hinting at that lace of seduction, being the alluring vixen that she is. 

“Strip that skirt, lay onto your stomach, and lastly, feet onto the floor.”

She is as thrilled as you are, and immediately puts up a show but doesn't go further without a question for such clarification, “Don’t you wanna see me naked?”

You would want to, but not now.

“Just the skirt, please. Everything else, on.” Commanding and straight to the point, just how you wanted all along. 

There were no complaints or the fact she’s abstaining from this command of yours, and in fact, it maybe even made it hotter. The way she’s seductively teasing and pulling her zipper until gravity does the job, it’s just a sight to behold and the final product left you in awe: the ruined black silk panties in such alongside the scribbled pattern of her stocking that just made the sight sizzle it complete heat that she emanates (figuratively).

“Like what you see?” She turns around then again, showing you her perfect figure all with your eyes to feast on as you were a step away from your final prize.

“Yes, now please turn around and lay on your stomach like I said.”

Your imperative nature sets herself in a position of reluctance but then shifts onto an immediate opposite. She does what she was told and wiggles her ass leisurely to invite you with a temptation to ruin her and even though if she won’t be vocal about it, you'd make it so that she won't be able to walk until the next day.

Yeji looks back onto her shoulder and lets out such profanity words, “Make a mess out of me—I don’t break easily.”

You won’t be convinced until you try it yourself but looking at her robustness and skills earlier, you might have to be biased with your judgment. “We’ll see about that.”

Completely kicking your garments to god knows where, you’re now in a better state of control as you tease her wet folds, earning a whimper that becomes uncontrollable as soon as you sink your finger against her raging heat. 

You can’t wait no more, you absolutely can’t because you’re dying to know what she feels like and with her last bit of defense out of your way, it’s time to do the unthinkable.

Now parting her supple legs with your hands, your eyes feast on her impeccable figure then onto that delicious cunt that’s making you drool. Unable to contain your enjoyment and your fantasies against her, you caught her by surprise with an unexpected twist—probably the twist that you’re involved in would be your tongue lathering her folds and tasting the escaping nectar that she produces.

It was succulent and you dived in it easily as the musky, floral scent of her tight cunt invites you, and you didn’t waste time as this was a golden opportunity. You wanted to tease her just for the sake of stimulation, playing a game with her ramping orgasm building up but you’d reckon the opposite and such pace ensued impatiently.

“Fuck! Such a t-talented mouth—fuck!” Yeji’s whines were coherent enough for you to increase the pace and double your efforts—you wish to let her reach her denied climax earlier with your fingers and your mouth. It wasn’t far off as you can feel her juices forming a rivulet onto her labia and spreading onto your chin and mouth, knowing how incredibly close she can be. She calls you repeatedly, gripping the sheets tight enough to rip it but it can’t and you eat her out with an effort that no one can rival.

A single wail is what it took before she screams, and there goes your long-chased win within a second away—

“I’m going to cum—” Surprisingly short and articulate, you let her give everything she has and there she goes—

Yeji’s orgasm comes in quickly as soon as she mutters those desperate words, and she immediately lays waste as she constantly spews liquid after liquid onto her sheets which instantly gets ruined. The both of you didn’t care about it but rather mind your own business while you still extended her climax, achieving such heights of her vocals.

“God—just fuck m-me now, please…”

Your cock is aching and throbbing in need, and with the penultimate action making her see such stars, it’s time for the last and the main event to take place.

You ask her if she’s in good condition and she didn’t bother to assure you, so with her green light, you stepped onto the throttle and gave in to your deepest, carnal desires.

Standing up, you then give her backside a last look before you plunge your length inside her wet hole and immediately groan with its tightness, feeling like her walls are gripping your shaft with a Herculean effort that probably was the blessing in disguise. 

“You’re fucking tight, Yeji—this feels just right.” And it is too right to be true, and you love it.

“Stretch me out—fuck, you’re crazy.”

Lust ignites you and it serves such an everlasting fuel for what’s bound to happen, and you give in just like that. You started off slow, letting her get accustomed to your length as you bury the entirety of your shaft then withdraw with just the tip inside, showing such penetration that could make any girl’s mind go haywire.

It’s starting to get to her slowly in every thrust you do—the utter pleasure your cock brings was phenomenal and with her small whines could determine how she’s really feeling deep inside. She grips onto the bedsheets like her life depends on it and it’s only going to get better once you manage such a pace that will make her think of you and you only.

Her cunt tightens once you spanked that pristine skin of hers and then called out to let her know something, “I’ll own this cunt until you see the stars above, do you understand?”

Between her wails of pleasure is her ephemeral nod with your question, unable to speak up due to the stimulation that’s coursing through her. Every stroke you do causes such slaps that adds to the orchestra of her moans that can be possibly heard outside as her room is too puny to shackle such sinful sounds of sex. You grip her hips harshly and increase your pace, making you moan on how she clenches her velvety walls once your length hits it balls-deep inside her.

“Want me to be rough, Yeji?” You hammer your hips in a velocity that’s making her brain in shambles, unable to mutter a response after a second in which you didn’t like.

A small punishment would do the job, but this is rewarding for her and a statement by yours. “I asked you a question, didn’t I?”

Her breaths are ragged between your thrusts as she cries with your immediate barrage of spanks, causing her to finally answer you even with her mind unable to achieve such clear articulacy. “Yes, p-please—I want it, ow!”

Another spank onto those pristine skin of hers never fails to make you throb with how it jiggled with such harshness, and the marks that’s finally imprinted on the soft skin tells such roughness. As she grows accustomed with your length due to her repeated chants of pleasure, you quickly opted for what could raise such an experience.

If her mind is ultimately clouded with you and can’t think straight, then you’re the opposite, clearly adapting to the situation.

“Yeji…”

“Wha—ooh! Mffh—mmh!” Ragged breaths leave her mouth as she struggles to breath with what you’ve done—you opted for a leverage that asserts your domination over her making the long, black lace at the back of her neck deemed as a leash rather than an aesthetic of her outfit. She probably liked the fact of such risking playing between life and death thanks to the asphyxiation and it didn’t stop you, but rather prove a point. 

“You like being choked and used, slut?” Your words just made Yeji elicit more moans as she’s being tamed, controlled by you and god, the way she’s creaming against your rapidly ramming length tells you about her satisfaction. The sheets will probably rip off no matter how durable they are and lastly, it will be soaked with her own juices and that’s thanks to your own doing. Her feet then raise up in the air as you give a better angle of penetration, switching between the black lace and onto her legs for leverage.

Even though she's barely stripped from her clothing, her clothes really compliments her figure and you’d like to take this mental picture and etch it on the deepest parts of your brain—something worth remembering until the end of time. The way that she's a disheveled, ruined mess right now just fuels you to break her in half and you’re not going to stop until you’ve fulfilled such destiny.

You wanted your hands to be occupied onto something and not being idle most of the time and with such a completely ruined mess of a girl she is now, you’d love to add more of it. You then grab her wrists and command her to arch her back, in which she complies and immediately, your hands reach onto those perky breasts of hers with the clothing still in the way. You caress them and Yeji can vouch she could feel such intensity even with such stellar clothing being a nuisance but there’s nothing to worry about, not when you’re giving her absolutely everything to feel.

You didn’t stop there as you leaned your frame closer to her while hammering her tight cunt repeatedly and utter the words, “This cunt is mine now, Yeji.”

She nodded and exclaimed a faint yes as you gave her pecs onto her shoulders, letting her know how much you love every single inch of hers and how you’re marking your own territory. Between your kisses is a feeling that something’s building up and you can feel it with the way her walls pulsate around your shaft—you know she's close and it’s up for you to let her wants prevail.

There wasn’t any choice and you love to see Yeji writhe as you give her such thrusts before her cardinal end. 

“I know you’re dying to cum—” You invite her to give in as she moans with your words, urging such a release that could let her see the things you wanted her to have a sight of. “—so cum on this cock. Cum for me.”

Your words act like a lever that opens up her reservoir and it feels like a tsunami surging around your length. With multiple cries to spare, you wanted to make her feel something exquisite while achieving her own orgasm, letting you finger avert her chin facing you, against her shoulder as you kissed her lips intimately. Time felt slow as the both of you locked lips and to ride off her high, you slowed down because you still wanted her to feel such intense gratification through her awaited climax.

“I n-never felt that good in my entire life.” Yeji’s breaths were jagged, as she recovers from her orgasm even with your lengthy still penetrating and possibly destroying her insides. Even with a possibly mind-fucked Yeji, she knew what you wanted all along and didn’t hesitate to ask you about it. “Aren’t you close?”

“Well, if you didn’t cum, I would’ve come first.”

An audible gasp resonated in your ears as it piqued her willingness to help you, and it was evident in her tone. “I could feel it too—just fuck me silly again and just cum.”

She recovered fast because of the evident change of her tone, and you, still a bit puzzled and hesitant knowing she may want a load deep inside her. “Don’t want it inside—”

“Then do it in my mouth—you fucking which hole is now your choice.”

Her invitation is just persuasive and alluring and it never fails you to fall a victim for. Knowing how she wanted it, as much as you wanna bother such another session being between her legs, you’d want to fulfill her wants and it’s safer with the help of a great oral ending.

“On your knees then, and open your mouth. I’m going to fuck your face.” You let her position and prepare herself for what's about to come as surprisingly, her legs are still working fine after all of the havoc you’ve brought into her.

Yeji closes her eyes, her mouth agape, ready for the taking as you stroke your length in its absolute vigor and there she goes, taking you again for the second time. This time, you take control by grabbing her ponytail that’s shockingly intact even with the ruckus you made her be in earlier. She’s taking you like a good girl as you ram into her face with abandon, skin slapping signaling the constant harshness you bring and it is perfect. She gagged and you didn’t care, yet she managed to tame it but wasn’t successful as always—you praised her attempts and wasn’t close to being futile. Her nails dug into the skin of your thighs as she let it be the leverage onto your constant rummage in her throat, and she welcomed every thrust with a gleeful demeanor, locking her gaze towards you.

She cries, tears running down her cheek as she was a disheveled mess and you’re proud of what you’ve done. You could feel the familiar sensation tingling near your stomach and a better way to end such a monumental note is giving everything you can. 

The unstoppable force meets the immovable object, as such velocity is unparalleled, hammering her tight throat like it’s her cunt and within seconds from her last gag you could feel everything coming down to this moment. Here it goes: Yeji chokes yet manages to keep your length all the way in, you groaning and calling her name like a chant and of course, the awaited climax that filled her throat up to the brim. You stayed for five more seconds, burying your length as her arms writhe with her repeated gags and then, pulls out immediately, strings of saliva adding to the mess she is and of course, the image of Yeji almost choking out your load but manages to compose herself to swallow it all, humming gleefully as she not get to taste the entirety of your delicious load.

“Like I said—it’s fucking delicious—hah.” The both of you caught your own breaths yet Yeji shows the struggle evidently. Still on her knees, she managed to show what you’ve done as your reward and the last thing you just saw her go is gulp down all of it in one go, into her stomach. She initiated the last dance with her hands grabbing your shaft, then directing it onto her mouth in order to clean the mess she made onto it. You groan with the sensitive surge she brings you, thankfully her tongue doing the work but you don't complain as within seconds, she ends her oral assault and it makes you feel spectacular for a long while.

You cup her cheeks, admiring the glamorous mess you made in which she unhesitantly neaten with her utmost capabilities. “You’re so damn pretty, Yeji.”

“You too.”

It was mutual at this moment and you never knew it would end like this but her voice wants to tell you that something isn’t over, yet.

“Help me clean up?”

And it was a hint, just out of curiosity, you’ll probably pull the trigger because how can you not refuse her invitation?

---

After countless sleepless nights and tumultuous days, you find yourself at the top of the world, and what better way to end this is just to go home, lay down and reminisce what a day this has been.

“The lights are pretty, huh?” Yeji interrupts your moment with her voice, and she locks her eyes towards yours, staring deeply into your soul as you fall onto it yet manage to snap back to reality.

“Yeah, it is—also, I just can’t comprehend how we ended up this way.” Yeji’s on the same boat as you and you could feel it in your nerves. This felt like a fever dream and you loved every second of it.

“Maybe that’s how destiny works, huh?”

You scoff, as your lips curled up a faint smile and muttered, “Maybe it is and yeah, I should leav—”

“Leave?” Yeji pouts as she inches herself closer onto yours, holding your wrist as her tone hints at her disappointment. “Don’t you wanna bother and stay just for this night?”

You can’t resist her, you absolutely can’t as you don’t want to be the bearer of bad news that will make her feel awkward.

You have a choice and you’ll stick with that… in her favor.

You smile sincerely, and Yeji’s holistic demeanor appears, “Okay, how can I resist you?”

“Up for you to find out.”

Maybe she was good, but honestly, she’s great. She is partly a monster and partly an angel, and you’ll live in those worlds together as you find your soulless heart beating rapidly for the first time in a long while.

You’re completely invigorated, and you’ll embrace this new chapter that opened.

“She’s good, she’s good—she’s great.”

---

You continue ruminating about the day you’ve had, and every moment was worth remembering. You smiled in your victorious attempts, which is having her number on your phone and sleeping with her through the night. As Yeji does her hygiene in the bathroom, a buzz on your phone piques your attention, and it was no other than the devil that made yourself look like an angel despite what you descended yourself into.

kim_chaewon on 23:15 - “Guess I shouldn’t have doubted you huh? Well done with the second phase, meet me tomorrow afternoon for further details. Enjoy your night for now—we’re still not done.”

She received it damn well minutes ago and made her eat up her words, but you’re still clearly within the base of the iceberg, and you’re still starting your remarkable journey.

“Hah… Of course we aren’t…” There was no surprise with that as you muttered in response to her text.

Yet there are multiple questions lingering in your mind: How did she know about this? How would she know if you’re lying or not? What may happen tomorrow? How long will this take? 

You could never answer those unless you figure things out, and let Chaewon introduce you to more of what’s possible between both worlds: you and everyone else’s, including hers.

[hollowed-theory-hall]

Do you think Harry could be scary at times? Like put actual fear into people? Because I think I remember some moments where Hermione was afraid of him or was a least kinda hesitant with him. Like this quote here from HP and the Deathly Hallows:

“You nev­er re­al­ly tried!” she said hot­ly. “I don’t get it, Har­ry – do you like hav­ing this spe­cial con­nec­tion or re­la­tion­ship or what – what­ev­er – “

She fal­tered un­der the look he gave her as he stood up.

“Like it?” he said qui­et­ly. “Would you like it?”

“I – no – I’m sor­ry, Har­ry. I just didn’t mean – “

He literally just looked at her, stood, and she was over there stuttering and backing down.

Yes! OMG, yes! Harry can and is scary when he wants to be and I love him for it!

A few more examples that popped into my head:

“I haven’t finished with you, boy!” “Get out of the way,” said Harry quietly. “You’re going to stay here and explain how my son —” “If you don’t get out of the way I’m going to jinx you,” said Harry, raising the wand. “You can’t pull that one on me!” snarled Uncle Vernon. “I know you’re not allowed to use it outside that madhouse you call a school!” “The madhouse has chucked me out,” said Harry. “So I can do whatever I like. You’ve got three seconds. One — two —”

(OotP, 45)

Uncle Vernon reacts to him with anger, which is his fear response. But Harry is talking quietly and deliberately, he isn't shouting and Vernon shuts up and listens, not cutting Harry off with his shouts. Harry actually cuts him off speaking quietly and Vernon lets him. And Vernon lashes out, as he always does when it comes to magic — because it scares him. Harry scares him.

“Well, it’s like Hagrid said, they can look after themselves,” said Hermione impatiently, “and I suppose a teacher like Grubbly-Plank wouldn’t usually show them to us before N.E.W.T. level, but, well, they are very interesting, aren’t they? The way some people can see them and some can’t! I wish I could.” “Do you?” Harry asked her quietly. She looked horrorstruck. “Oh Harry — I’m sorry — no, of course I don’t — that was a really stupid thing to say —”

(OotP, 450)

Hermione stutters around Harry quite a bit. I think she is, like, concerned about him at all times at the back of her head a bit since it takes very little from him to rattle her. I'm not copying it here but you see it too when Harry shouts at her and Ron at the beginning of OotP, Ron argues back a bit, but Hermione gets incredibly rattled. Hermione doesn't deal with Harry's anger well. There are more scenes like the one you mentioned as well.

I'm re-reading Deathly Hallows right now and came upon this scene:

Somehow her [Hermione's] panic seemed to clear Harry’s head. “Lock the door,” he told her, “and Ron, turn out the lights.” He looked down at the paralyzed Dolohov, thinking fast as the lock clicked and Ron used the Deluminator to plunge the caf into darkness. Harry could hear the men who had jeered at Hermione earlier, yelling at another girl in the distance. “What are we going to do with them?” Ron whispered to Harry through the dark; then, even more quietly, “Kill them? They’d kill us. They had a good go just now.” Hermione shuddered and took a step backward. Harry shook his head. “We just need to wipe their memories,” said Harry. “It’s better like that, it’ll throw them off the scent. If we killed them it’d be obvious we were here.” “You’re the boss,” said Ron, sounding profoundly relieved. “But I’ve never done a Memory Charm.”

(DH, 146)

That needs to be talked about more.

Some people like to point at Remus telling Harry that "the time for Expeliarmos is over" as proof Harry isn't willing to kill, but this isn't true. Harry isn't willing to kill Stan Shunpike, whom he considers innocent, Harry was the calmest of the trio and very much considered killing the Death Eaters and chose not to for completely tactical and cold reasons, not ones of ethics or qualms about murder. And I love the dynamic this short scene portrays with the trio a lot. Like, Harry is calm under pressure and calls the shots, Ron offers a way to deal with things, and then Hermione actually executes the memory charms. And here too, when Hermione stepped back, she was scared of Harry (and Ron a little). She doesn't for a second think he wouldn't kill them if he thought it was the right thing to do. She stepped back because she was scared Harry would kill them.

“...Thank you!” said Mundungus, snatching the goblet out of Ron’s hand and stuffing it back into the case. “Well, I’ll see you all — OUCH!” Harry had pinned Mundungus against the wall of the pub by the throat. Holding him fast with one hand, he pulled out his wand. “Harry!” squealed Hermione. “You took that from Sirius’s house,” said Harry, who was almost nose to nose with Mundungus and was breathing in an unpleasant smell of old tobacco and spirits. “That had the Black family crest on it.” “I — no — what — ?” spluttered Mundungus, who was slowly turning purple. “What did you do, go back the night he died and strip the place?” snarled Harry. “I — no —” “Give it to me!”

(HBP, 245-246)

Harry lifts Mundungus and strangles him... and both Mundungus and Hermione are scared of him... because he is scary.

said Voldemort coldly, and though he could not see it, Harry pictured Bellatrix withdrawing a helpful hand. “The boy . . . Is he dead?” There was complete silence in the clearing. Nobody approached Harry, but he felt their concentrated gaze; it seemed to press him harder into the ground, and he was terrified a finger or an eyelid might twitch. “You,” said Voldemort, and there was a bang and a small shriek of pain. “Examine him. Tell me whether he is dead.” Harry did not know who had been sent to verify. He could only lie there, with his heart thumping traitorously, and wait to be examined, but at the same time noting, small comfort though it was, that Voldemort was wary of approaching him, that Voldemort suspected that all had not gone to plan. . . .

(DH, 612)

Voldemort is outright scared of Harry and isn't willing to come near him to check if he's dead...

Like, I am not a fan of the weaker, softer fanon version of Harry James Potter that I see on occasion (obviously everyone can do what they want, I just personally don't like it much when he's portrayed as small and submissive as if Harry has ever submitted in his life). He is not as tall as Ron, but he isn't short either (the same height as James, so likely around 6 feet), he is physically capable of lifting Mundungus even without magic with a single hand and he is so magically capable (more than almost every other character, bar exceptions like Dumbledore, Voldemort, and Snape). No wonder he can be scary, both physically and magically. And yes, Hermione is outright scared of Harry at times. So are other characters.

So, yeah, I strongly agree, Harry can definitely scare people if he wants to, and sometimes even when he doesn't. He seems to have an intimidation factor he isn't fully aware of and therefore doesn't notice all that much.

[outermaybanks]

bsf!jj teaches you how to suck dick

a/n: y'all have been so kind, showing so much love to the rafe blurb and my oc fic, so here's a thought i had after thinking abt some personal experiences (18+ nsfw, mdni)

cw: uhhh kind of manipulative jj but it's hot so it's okay. consent is given enthusiastically, that's all that really matters

“And apparently, Rebecca gave one to Sean,” you complained. “I swear I’m the only girl who’s never done it before.” You turned your head from where you laid on your bed, JJ sitting on the floor beside you, scrolling mindlessly on his phone.

“No way every girl’s given a blowjob but you,” JJ replied flatly, his attention on ‘his insta models’.

“Feels like it,” you huffed, turning back to look up at your ceiling. “I just don’t want to miss out on vital teenage experiences. What if I wait too long to learn, and then I’m bad at it?” 

This made JJ chuckle, and then in the silence after, you hear the click of his phone. “Y’know, y/n, if you really just want the experience… I could teach you.”

Your eyebrows furrowed as you turned your head to look at him. “Are you making fun of me?”  “Dead serious. I mean, it’s just practice, and who better to practice on then your best friend?”

“Practice…” You mumbled to yourself as your thought it over. JJ scooted closer to the bed.  “Like when we practiced kissing, that wasn’t a big deal, right? And then you won’t be the only girl who hasn’t done it.” “And you won’t be mad at me if I’m bad at it?” “Don’t worry ‘bout that, I’ll teach you.” You bit your lip, it sounded enticing. “And it’s not a big deal?” “Nah, I’m sure friends do this all the time, they just don’t talk about it.”

That made perfect sense to you, whom for a while had lustful thoughts about the blonde, surely everyone wants to fuck their best friends, it only made sense.

“Okay, yeah,” you decided, sitting up. JJ quickly pulled himself up to sit on the bed beside you. “How do we start?” “Well, you can’t suck my dick if it ain’t hard,” JJ answered. “Is it hard?” “I don’t know,” JJ replied, taking your hand in his, leading it to his crotch. “Am I hard, y/n?” You bit your lip, “A little…” “You can get me harder than that, c’mon,” JJ encouraged.

Your eyebrows furrowed together, and you wet your bottom as you tried to recount all you had seen in porn. 

“Start by kissing me, y/n,” JJ said softly, already leaning in. You quickly closed the gap between you, you were well practiced on kissing JJ, already knowing how he liked it. You brought your hands to cup his cheeks, pulling him closer. JJ liked when you were needy for him. 

“You can touch me,” JJ mumbled between kisses. “Where?”  “Where do you want to touch me?”

You slid your hand down his chest until it once again was met with his hardening cock. JJ let out a soft moan against your lips before kissing down your neck. You tried to bite back a moan, but it still escaped your throat as you slid you hand down the front of his jeans, rubbing his dick through his boxers.

“Mmm, just like that, y/n, you’re doing so good,” JJ said breathlessly. “Can I see your tits?”

You looked at him with doe eyes, before pulling away to pull your shirt over your head, JJ’s palms immediately cupping you over your bra. “Gorgeous fucking tits.” “Mmm don’t tease, JJ.” “Wouldn’t dream of it, cupcake. Can I take your bra off?”

You nodded before continuing your strokes, you could feel his dick getting harder and harder, and the thought was making you salivate. JJ’s hands reached behind you and expertly unclasped your bra, helping it slide down your arms before moving to take off his pants.

You took your bottom lip between your teeth as you were met with the sight of JJ’s cock, pale and veiny but with a pretty pink tip, already leaking precum. JJ put his hand in front of your mouth. “Spit,” He commanded, and you obeyed, spitting in the palm of his hand. It was almost pathetic, how JJ could get you to do anything he wanted.

You watched as his hand wrapped around his cock before he stroked it a couple times, spreading your spit over him.

“Okay, now get on your knees, y/n.”

Your body moved automatically, kneeling on the floor in front of where he sat on the bed. “Good girl, now just use your tongue at first, work your way up.”

You looked up at him through your lashes before licking a stripe from his base to his tip, JJ hissing at the feel. “Good, just like that, baby. More.” You did it a few more times before giving his tip a few kitten licks, moans falling from JJ’s lips, and before you could think, you slid his dick in your mouth.

“Fuck, y/n,” JJ breathed out. You kept your eyes on him as you moved your head back in forth, like you had seen girls in porn do. “That’s it, baby, suck in your cheeks.” You did as you were told. “You feel so fucking good… hey, wanna know what guys really like?” You nodded the best you could with his cock still in your mouth. “Take me as deep as you can, but go slow, okay?”

You pushed back further until your throat stung, making your eyes water. “Fuck you look so fucking hot, y/n. You can take it, baby, I know you can.” JJ’s praises encourage you, and with each swivel of your head, you tried to take him deeper and deeper. JJ’s hand wrapped in your hair, keeping it out of your face as he watched you. “I’m gonna make you a pro at this, I promise, baby.”

You began to gag around him a bit, so JJ moved your head slower for you. “Breathe through your nose, you got this, just relax that throat, princess, you can take it.”

With your cheeks still hollowed, you brought your tongue to the underside of his length, and you let your nails rake up and down his thighs. 

“Fuck, I’m close, keep doing that, y/n, just like that baby. Can I go faster? You can handle it, right?”

You nodded, prepared for it this time, but JJ took that as a yes for him to thrust, making his dick hit the back of your throat, pulling a whine from you, but JJ could only focus on the vibrations on his dick, letting out another moan. You could feel yourself growing wet from pleasuring him, you had forgotten all about your urge for experience, this was about making JJ feel good. 

“Fuck!” JJ exclaimed, pulling himself from your mouth. In an instant you were shocked, disappointed even for him to stop. “Stick your tongue out for me, baby.”

You obeyed mindlessly, sticking your tongue out for him, mouth wide as you kept your eyes on him. He began fisting his cock right in front of your face, and you realized what was happening, and you felt electricity buzzing through you, you were making JJ cum.

He let out a few moans, then turned to whimpers before his cum landed on your tongue, some getting on your face.

“You gonna swallow, baby?”

You closed your mouth and swallowed, before using your finger to wipe the stray cum off your face, licking your fingers clean. “You did so fucking good, y/n.”

“Thank you for teaching me, J.” “Imagine how good you’ll get with a few more practices.” “Now?” You asked, and JJ chuckled.

“No, not now, baby. Gotta give Junior a rest. But if you want to repay me, you could let me practice eating pussy.”

©outermaybanks 2024

[needfantasticstories]

“Many places I have been

Many sorrows I have seen

But I don't regret

Nor will I forget

All who took that road with me”

-The Last Goodbye by Billy Boyd

This is an Adjuration by @not-freyja, after 86 chapters, 300k words, and 10 months of joy, laughter, tears, heartbreak and love, has finally reached its end. 

Adjuration is a tragedy that is nothing short of an act of love. That much is clear in the passion and dedication put towards the story, the characters, and the message Freyja is trying to convey. This fic will teach you about love. About death. About the inevitability of existence and why despite knowing it will all come to an end, there is still meaning in trying and hoping and loving each other. In loving yourself. You will laugh, you will cry, you will hope and you will despair as you read this story, but you will not be able to put it down.

It’s hard to say goodbye to something that has been so important to and loved by so many people. So we won’t. Instead, we will say thank you for this incredible journey and the community this fic has built. For the friendships that have been made and the endless inspiration you have given us. Thank you for wanting to tell a story, and for letting us join you around the campfire to listen.

Thank you.

(If you like Linked Universe and haven’t yet read Adjuration, see below for spoiler free reviews of this fic and artist credits.)

This is an Adjuration is the kind of story you fall in love with, the kind of story you think keep thinking about long after you put it down. The kind you keep finding hidden details in after you think you’ve got it figured out. 

The characters are distinct and people with their own voices, motivations, relationships and histories. You’ll have your favourites but love them all. They influence how you’ll see the characters in everything else. 

It’s full of moments where everything clicks and everything before is recontextualised in a way that’s so satisfying and make the whole story very re-readable. A time travel story where all loops are already closed, where you can know but not yet understand what will happen. It’s long, complex, and beautifully, meticulously planned and detailed. It’s clever and considered, funny and heartbreaking. 

A story that whispers ‘it matters’ over and over. It is worth it to love, it is worth it if it doesn’t last forever, it is worth it to give someone a little more time, it is worth it to fight. It’s about loving others and your world and finding grace for yourself. 

It’s loss and tragedy and the cruelness of fate. It is the sacrifice and the breaking. 

Full of heart to both fill yours and break it in the best possible way. 

It’s about love. Always.

By @toyouhellohowareyou

Sometimes, it’s hard to explain to others why art moves us.

I could tell you This is an Adjuration will make you cry, laugh, and sit at the edge of your seat in anticipation. And it’s probably true - I did all of that as I read, often with a coffee in one hand, early in the morning as I got ready for the day. 

But that’s not the reason why I’m writing this.

The real reason is how it followed me during the rest of the day.

You see, at a certain point I realized this isn’t a story about Links going on adventures. Well, it does feature Links, and they do go on adventures, so let’s talk about that for a minute.

The first thing that caught my attention about this book was the characters. Each individual is unique, interesting, and exciting to follow. Not only are the Links individually compelling, but one thing that stands out in Adjuration is how the relationship between each Hero and their own worlds matter, and these connections shift, evolve, break and grow as the plot progresses.

Freyja does an incredible job of bringing together impactful storytelling with humor and heart. This is an Adjuration starts with an interesting premise, and then twists and turns in directions you wouldn’t expect. It’s rich in thought-provoking moments, soft joy and intense action, blended in with carefully crafted time travel and magic.

Adjuration sucked me into the world it builds, combining believable characters with fascinating stories, an unnervingly devious antagonist, plot twists, and lovingly crafted details that slip unnoticed until you’re surrounded on all sides. It made me cheer for characters I feel as if I’ve known intimately for years, made me worry for their safety as I would for that of a loved one, kept me hunting for hints and hidden references, pulling on a thread to try to find the end only for it to twist and loop into itself and show me a completely new side to the story.

Yes, This is an Adjuration is a fanfiction piece that explores the winding river flow of the Legend of Zelda timeline and how the stories of each Hero merge into each other. It also stands out for its heavy emotional content, and it doesn’t shy away from angst and hurt.

But to me, Adjuration is an epic journey that taught me how the choices we make, make us in turn. It’s a tragedy that deals with pain and healing, and it bares naked the non-linear nature of grief. It’s a celebration of the things that make us unique, of our flaws, an essay of the impact of little acts of love. Indeed, it’s a story about love.

I can tell you now, This is an Adjuration moved me. It still does. It has a special way to surface in my mind in unexpected ways at seemingly random times, from something as simple as tossing an apple core, to watching a lightning storm in the distance, or finding a picture of an old friend.

And every time, without fail, it makes me think about love.

By @sunny-porridge

This is an Adjuration is a wonderfully and beautifully crafted story about love, loss, and choice as the various incarnations of Link come together and travel through time. Freyja seamlessly weaves a tapestry of setup and payoff across different timelines and loops, in the best-constructed time travel plot I’ve ever seen on page or screen. Even at its surface, Adjuration is an emotional rollercoaster involving tragedy and the soft moments that make that tragedy worth it. But the deeper you look, the more meaning you can pull from every chapter of this amazing work. This work has made me cry, squeal with delight, and think more deeply about its themes all while having an absolute blast reading it. So in summary: READ IT. READ IT. READ IT NOW. YOU WILL NOT REGRET IT.

By @life-in-winter

While I love that every chapter is emotionally enthralling, with carefully woven, visceral tension you crave in any good story, yet Adjuration is more than that, and you feel it in the careful weave of each character and plot point. Nothing is lost or unanswered. It's the kind of story that, by the end, makes you stop and take a hard look at your own life. Are you appreciating the now? Are you savoring joy? Are you so wrapped up in fear that you can hardly take care of yourself? Do you know who you are?

This story is more like an external experience. It's riding atop a tsunami. How do you handle that ride, Link?

There aren't enough words to describe how amazing this fic is.

@needfantasticstories

Artist credit

Legend: @gia-d

Hyrule: @bittirsweeteer

Time: @toonblade

Sky: @noorahqar

Warriors: @whitewinterstar

Wild: @weavingstarlight

Twilight: @bluury2

Wind: @thewitchdoctor39

Four: @lunaopus

Red: @peepthatbish

Blue: @glowingmin

Green: @winterfen

Vio: @waterfallstream

Shadow: @deleetrix

Wolfie: @linkiscool333

Fierce Deity: @awildsilver

Ravio: @lele5429

Malon: @tooner-tastic

Dink: @passerinesoncaffeine

[acourtofwhatthefuck]

Practice On Me — Part Thirteen — Azriel x Reader

Summary: Backstreet’s back, ALRIGHT! Or rather, the Bat Boys™️ sort their issues out. Tathaln’s ball is officially announced. Azriel gives Kaeda a piece of his mind. Fin has no business being the sexy dad he is. Roza’s worried about reader.

Word count: 6.3k.

Warnings: None for this part.

All is silent, save for the rhythmic tick-tick-ticking of the clock. Cassian has always hated that clock. Finds it fucking annoying.

But it fills the vacant hole that exists in the absence of conversation. That hole is open and gaping between Cassian and Azriel. It’s not a table that sits between them — it’s a dangerous, yawning chasm.

Az stares at Cass, and Cass feels uncomfortable. He’s seen that cold gaze be levelled on people hundreds of times, thousands. To be on the receiving end feels a little like staring death in the face. He actually kind of wishes that Kaeda hadn’t been sent off to the dorms to sleep off her drunken state, because at least then he wouldn’t be the only one here, being subjected to…this.

So, he stands up, so abruptly that his chair almost topples over, and asks, “Want me to make you some tea?” The question feels stupid the second it leaves his lips.

Azriel’s eyes track him, drink in every uneasy shift and twitch. It’s not that Cass is afraid of Az — though anybody with half a brain cell would be — just that he’s not good in these situations. Situations where he has to be serious and…and listen.

“Cassian.” The shadowsinger’s cold voice stops him before he can move. “When, in our years of friendship, have you ever once made me tea?”

Cass peers over a broad shoulder and shrugs half-heartedly. “First time for everything…”

“Sit.”

The word brooks no room for argument. Cassian does, indeed, sit.

It’s then that Azriel heaves a deep sigh, his entire body taut as a bowstring, and says, “I’m sorry.”

Cass blinks. “What?”

“I’m sorry—for what I did in the mead hall. I…had no right.”

“…But Y/N and I…”

“It’s not for me to dictate whether the two of you should or shouldn’t lie together. My…jealousy…is my problem, and mine alone.”

This is hard, Cassian realises — for Az to say this. For him to face it. And Cass can relate to that. Not everyone can be as silver-tongued as Rhysand. The Mother knows, Cass himself isn’t.

But he also isn’t an idiot. Some people may believe him to be, and that’s their mistake, because being proved wrong is usually the last thing they remember before waking up to a healer standing over them. He’s aware enough of his surroundings to know that something was brewing between Azriel and Y/N for years before Cass took her to bed…or kitchen counter, or…whatever.

“I need to be better,” Cassian offers, “at thinking before I act. Thinking about who I might hurt with my decisions. I’m working on it.”

Az studies his friend, and he feels no anger. If anything, it’s guilt that claws at the shadowsinger. He gave poor Cass a pretty good hiding over something that was, essentially, none of his business. And it could have all been different if Az simply wasn’t a coward, afraid of his feelings.

Something he needs to work on.

And perhaps he’s doing that as, rather than burying the topic, he asks, “What…what actually happened? How did you end up sleeping together? I mean…do you have feelings—”

“No.” Cassian cuts him off, blinking. “Gods, no. I love Y/N, you know that. But not romantically. I just…I felt so damn useless that night, Az. If you’d seen the way Y/N was…the self-loathing. I didn’t know how to help.”

Immediately, Azriel’s brow pinches. “Self-loathing?”

“Because of what her father did to her. When we were flying to Fenlaros, and she was the only one being carried in…”

Azriel slumps back in his chair, feeling like a godsdamned idiot.

He blinks forward and wonders what the fuck the point is in being born a shadowsinger when he obviously can’t read situations very well. Within seconds, it’s clicking into place.

“And then you started that fight with that Fenlarion male,” Cass continued. “and Kaeda just declared that it was her you were fighting over…and everyone has a limit, you know? I think that night was just all too much for Y/N. And she was so upset, so downtrodden…talking about how she hated herself. And I’m not good with words like Rhys is, and I’m not as observant as you are, but I am good at physical touch. Physical comfort. And it seemed like the only thing I could offer in that moment to take that bleakness away from her. But I should have thought about how you would feel—”

“I’m glad you were there for her.” Azriel blurts, realising, with every word, how much he means them. “I wasn’t. I failed her that night.”

“I really didn’t know that the two of you had been exploring things. If I did, I wouldn’t have done it. I mean…that fight you started wasn’t over Kaeda at all, was it?”

Az’s eyes shutter. And it goes against every natural instinct of his to strip himself bare and just…be honest. Every steel wall he’s ever built up is screeching in its effort to stand strong and not be caved in. And those walls were necessary in a life of darkness and hate…but that life is long gone.

What good do those walls do him in an environment where he has love, has people who genuinely care for him? As much as he wants to run and hide from his feelings as he always has…he thinks that the key to happiness may be on the other side of those walls. That a new bravery lays in letting some light filter through the cracks and warm a guarded heart.

His voice is quiet, laced with a self-preserving fear, as he admits, “No. It was not.”

Before Cassian can offer an encouraging response, the front door is swinging open, and Rhysand is kicking snow from his boots and trudging in. Azriel tenses like a threatened animal — but there is no threat here. Only safety, only love. He forces his shoulders to relax.

The violet-eyed male takes in the sight before him. Goes still as he looks between his two friends. “Please tell me this is a positive conversation.”

Cassian inclines his head. “Work in progress. Why don’t you make some tea?”

“Fuck you, make your own tea—”

“Make me some tea—”

“Kiss my ass, dickhole—”

“I’m in love with Y/N.” Azriel blurts.

It promptly shuts the other two males up.

They turn away from their bickering to look at the shadowsinger. He looks…shocked, by his own confession.

“I’m in love with her,” he breathes.

Cass and Rhys share a glance, and then Rhys is slowly approaching the table, carefully taking a seat like he doesn’t want to startle Azriel out of the moment.

“We know, Az.” Rhys tells him gently. “I mean…I think we always suspected…”

“I started that fight in Fenlaros because I was jealous of that damn male having his hands all over her. Saying the things he was saying. It was nothing to do with Kaeda.”

“You should really tell her — Y/N, I mean. Tell her how you feel.”

Azriel’s eyes trace a mark in the table as he admits, “Kind of already have. When she came to speak to me earlier today.”

Another glance is shared between Cassian and Rhys. And both are equally surprised — figure they would have heard something about it. Unless…unless it hadn’t gone down well.

And now that Rhys thinks about it, Y/N had been tense whilst he’d flown her back to Velaris. Taut in his arms and barely uttering a few words. Perhaps this was why.

“Did she…not take it well?” Rhys hedges. He wants to be delicate, not go blasting in at full-force. So rarely do they get to see such a vulnerable side to Az.

Azriel shakes his head once. “It’s not that, it’s…” He clears his throat. “It’s more complicated than that.”

“How?” Cass pushes, and Rhys shoots him a warning glance.

But Azriel doesn’t balk from it, doesn’t slink back in his seat. Instead, he lifts his head, and he levels his friends with a desperate look.

“There’s more that I haven’t told you.” He says.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

A short while later, Az thinks that maybe talking through his feelings is a good thing. Just saying the words has a little bit of weight easing from his chest, his shoulders.

But Cass and Rhys aren’t saying anything at all. Cass and Rhys are staring at him like he has two damn heads.

And then Cassian sits up, barking, “Tathaln Baralas wants what?”

“Exactly what I told you.” Azriel shakes his head. “He wants me to move to Fenlaros and work alongside him. Has some sort of backing from the High Lord, though I’m not sure how much. In a nutshell, Kaeda’s interest in me has always been driven by her father.”

“I knew that little wasp was up to something. You know she tried to kiss me tonight?”

Az shrugs. Really could not give a fuck. “I figured something had happened from the look on your face.”

“I never liked her. Nor her father—”

“Her father,” Rhys cuts in, “walks a very fine line in presuming to exceed in his role as a Camp Lord. His ego and title are going to his head a little, it would seem, if he believes he has the authority to scheme such ideas.”

“It’s a terrible idea.” Cass says. Neither of the other two noticed him get up, but he’s returning to his seat, speaking around a mouthful of food. “All Illyrians in one big camp? They’ll kill each other.”

Rhys is inclined to agree. But he turns a neutral — maybe gentle — expression on Az and asks him, “Do you want to go to Fenlaros?”

It would kill him if Az said yes. Would kill Cass, too. These recent days of being torn apart by tension has been bad enough. Being in different camps and not seeing each other is an almost unbearable thought.

But they would find a way to live with it, if Az decided he wanted to go. They’d find a way to be okay with it.

Such thick silence fills the room that the thudding of all three of their hearts is audible.

But then Azriel replies quietly, “No.”

Neither Rhys nor Cassian bother to hide their relief.

“I told Kaeda I would think about it.” Azriel goes on. “And I told Y/N that I’d promised Kaeda that. But I don’t think I’ve ever really intended to think about it — or needed to. I think…I think I was just using it to bide my time. To create space for myself and…avoid everything else.”

“By everything else,” Cassian chomps into a loaf of bread, “do you mean facing your feelings for Y/N?”

Azriel can’t deny it. He nods. “It’s not an easy thing to face…to be vulnerable. Hiding behind this Fenlaros situation has just been easier. Cowardly, yes, but…easier.”

“You can’t keep pushing her away, though, Az.” Rhys says. “You can’t let her think that you might be leaving if you have no intention of doing so.”

The shadowsinger’s eyes flutter shut, thick, dark lashes grazing his cheekbones. “Do you think I’ve fucked it beyond repair?”

“No.” Cassian offers. “But you will, if you don’t start handling this the right way. Tell Kaeda and Tathaln to fuck off. Tell Y/N you’re in love with her and want to see her naked—”

“Watch it.” Azriel warns quietly, but Cass continues, unperturbed.

“Just start letting more people in. And I’ll stop letting so many people in, because it gets me into trouble. I think…I think we all need to grow up a little. Do better.”

Rhysand’s brow pinches. “What do you mean, we all do? I’ve done nothing other than put my own pleasure aside to advise you idiots. What could I possibly need to do better?”

Cassian shrugs. “That haircut, for one. It’s annoying.”

“And when was the last time your hair saw a comb, Cassian?”

“When was the last time you were generous and made tea for your good, long-suffering friend?”

“So this is about the tea.”

“Of course it’s about the tea, jackass. Zakai clearly isn’t with you for your observational skills…”

Azriel sits back, allowing their bickering to become background noise. There’s a warmth to the sight, the sound, that makes him realise he never again wants a repeat of this situation — of being apart from his friends for days, tension thick between them.

He loves Rhys and Cassian. Loves them dearly.

Another reason why he could never, ever turn his back on this place.

And he finds himself actually being…grateful…that Cass was there for Y/N that night. That she didn’t have to suffer her self-loathing alone.

There’s still a lot to get through, of course. Daunting emotions and truths to face head-on. But as he watches the two loveable idiots in front of him take verbal swipes at each other, it’s the first time in a while that he wonders if things might actually be okay.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

The news is announced the next day, when Lord Devlon gathers a rather colourful bunch of his soldiers in the mead hall and stands at the front, silencing them all with a single shout. Rhys, Cassian and Azriel stand against the far back wall, their arms folded over their chests.

Gods, they hope it’s not another training exercise. Not so soon. Az has things he wants to resolve before he saunters off and possibly gets himself killed.

But Devlon reads the roll of parchment in his hands, a frown contorting his features. He looks up, his eyes very deliberately finding Rhysand as he announces to the room, “A message from the High Lord.”

And every other gaze is then swivelling to turn on Rhys, too. There’s something accusatory about it, like they’re assuming he’s privy to whatever it is their asses have been dragged out of bed to hear.

He isn’t. He wants to be in bed, too.

“Looks like you pricks better get your dancing shoes ready.” Devlon raises his eyebrows. “The High Lord is calling for a ball. Legions from all camps invited.”

This — this is exciting news for the brutish males who could fill the mead hall with their egos alone. Not because they have a particular affinity for dancing, but because amongst themselves, they’re already murmuring about which particular camps they dislike for some reason or other, and what they plan to do about it. So many bloodthirsty streaks are painted in those males’ eyes, stamping out the tiredness that lay there only moments before.

Nothing pricks an Illyrian male’s ears up quite like the prospect of a fight.

“The legions from each camp have been carefully selected, and you lucky fuckers will be representing Windhaven.” The Camp Lord continues, disdain dripping from his voice. He wants his men out there training in the cold, not prancing around a dance floor. “Plus-ones are allowed, also, so it might be time to splash out on a pretty gown for whoever is warming your bed these days. The ball is to be held on Starfall, at a neutral venue of the High Lord’s choosing, and I expect you all to make Windhaven — and me — look good. Any questions?”

“Do we actually have to dance?” One male asks, while another one pipes up with, “Will those pricks from Camp Steelshore be there?”

Rhys shuts out the litany of battling voices as he turns a concerned look on Az and Cass. Their expressions mirror his own. Something about this feels…off.

So while he looks like he’s merely lounging against the wall, hands in his pockets, he sends his inner claws spearing straight for Devlon’s mind. He doesn’t give away what he’s doing, not even slightly, as he roots around in the Camp Lord’s thoughts and grabs for his glimpse of the letter. Rhys scans it, drops the thought, and he’s out of Devlon’s mind and straightening himself up before the male can so much as flinch.

“Let’s go.” He tells his friends, and not Devlon nor the males around them seem to care as Azriel and Cassian follow him, the formidable trio traipsing out into the thawing snow, regardless of whether the meeting is over or not.

They’re halfway back to the house, safely out of earshot, when Cassian finally barks, “A ball? What the fuck?”

“At the request of Tathaln Baralas.” Rhys reveals. “That’s what the letter said. He took the idea to my father, and the asshole is humouring him. This has all got to be part of Tathaln���s plan.”

Cassian scowls and spits his disdain at the ground. “Someone needs to drive a poison arrow through that prick’s heart already. I don’t like this one bit.”

“It’s my father’s intentions I’m worried about.” Rhys shakes his head. “Tathaln only has the power that my father gives him. One word from him and this idea could be snuffed out and never mentioned again. And I expected that to be the case. Arrogant as fuck he may be, but my father isn’t stupid. He’ll know what a terrible idea this is, and I would have predicted that he’d laugh in Tathaln’s face for mentioning it. I didn’t think he’d actually entertain it…which means—”

“There’s something in it for him.” Azriel finishes.

Rhysand nods. “Every single move and choice my father makes is, ultimately, for his own gain. He would never agree to anything if he weren’t getting something out of it himself. Whatever Tathaln has proposed to him…my father will be using it for his own gain.”

Cassian opens the door to the cottage and strides in, forgetting — as always — to kick the snow from his boots. “What, though?” He asks. “What could Tathaln have that your father could want?”

Rhys shrugs and waves a hand, magic promptly mopping up the wet, melting trail left in Cassian’s wake. “That, I don’t know.”

“So what do we do?” Az watches him closely, trying to read the thoughts on the male’s face. His shadows reach out to him, too. “Are you going to talk to your father? Make him see how ridiculous this idea is?”

“No,” Rhys shakes his head. “There would be no point. I could lay a whole host of truths out to my father, and he’d go against them on ego alone. He must want something badly enough for him to be throwing money into it. This ball won’t be cheap.”

“And it won’t be a ball, either.” Cassian cocks an eyebrow. Roots through the kitchen cupboards for food. “Blood will be spilled. And you can’t dance on blood. I’ve tried. Too slippy.”

Rhys chooses to ignore that little scrap of information. Mostly because he doesn’t doubt it for a second. “I don’t want us to pre-empt anything.” He says. “If I go straight to my father with concerns about any of this, it could blow up in our faces, instead. For the time being, I think we should just…go along with it. Watch it play out, and see what happens. My father is unpredictable. Even I can’t tell you what goes on in his head.”

“I can speak with Kaeda.” Az clears his throat. “See if she’ll tell me anything.”

“You have fun with that.” Cassian mumbles, biting into something. “I’d sooner chop my balls off and nail them to the front door.”

“Such a way with words. It’s no wonder, really, that females fall at your feet.”

Cass shoots him a wicked grin. And this…this is nice. What they’ve both missed. This is normal.

“I’ll keep an eye and ear out for anything.” Rhys drags them back to the subject at hand. “But my father’s good at not letting anyone know things until he wants them to know them. And he’s clearly serious about this.”

Cassian swallows. Takes another bite. “And until then? Until we know what he’s even serious about?”

Violet eyes sparkle with mischief, and one side of Rhysand’s lips tips up. “Until then, boys,” he says, “you’d better practice your dancing.”

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Azriel really hopes she’s not there, but sure enough, when he enters his room at the dorms, Kaeda is sitting up in his bed.

It gives him a little bit of satisfaction to see her look…less than perfect, for once. Her hair is knotted, and even the vibrancy of the red shade seems a little dulled. Her skin is sallow, her eyes bleary. He wonders if she’s as miserable as she currently looks.

She beholds him with a strangely coy look, like she’s waiting for him to rip into her. But if she really knew the shadowsinger, she’d know that that is not his style. He does not shout. He rarely fights physically. His danger lies in his quiet voice and icy stare.

Kaeda’s tired eyes fall to the blanket pooled around her waist, and she murmurs, “You’re angry with me.” Her throat bobs with a swallow. “I understand. But I appreciate you putting me to sleep in here when I was in a vulnerable state.”

“I would have done it for anyone.” Az presses his back against the wall, folding his arms. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

The female merely bows her head. Doesn’t bother to argue.

“I have a question.” Azriel then says. “I’d like an answer.”

“I know that Cassian has probably told you about last night, and all I can say is I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have kissed him. I was drunk and upset and I—”

“I don’t care about that.” He really doesn’t, and it shows on his face. “I want to know what your father is playing at by organising an Illyrian ball. I don’t believe for a second that the gesture is an innocent one.”

She glances down again, but Azriel doesn’t buy the coy act for one moment.

“Kaeda.” His voice is laced with warning. “Tell me.”

“It’s just…a ball. A ball to have all camps in one place, so he can get a good look at what each one has to offer. It’s nothing sinister.”

“So, a chance for him to scout more supporters for his cause.”

“He’s trying to make a change, Azriel. A good one—”

“He’s interfering with lives. Tearing families apart.”

“Good results require difficult choices.” Her voice hardens.

The shadowsinger bites out a cold, brusque laugh, turning away from her. “Mother above, he has you trained well.”

There’s movement behind him. Kaeda is kicking the sheets away and pushing to her feet. And she’s…seething.

“You would laugh in the face of somebody trying to make a positive change?” She snaps. “What reason have you to be so arrogant? At least my father is trying to make a difference. All you’re doing is clinging to a miserable life in a miserable place where you don’t even have a family or home of your own—”

“Except that I do.” Azriel rounds on her so quickly that his wing knocks a fragrance bottle off a shelf. “I may not have your riches, and that’s fine, because I have a group of people — a family I made — who love me enough to care whether or not I come home at night. Who want nothing less for me than happiness and contentedness, and not just to use me as a pawn in some convoluted plan that will do more harm than good. I have reason to be in Windhaven, whether it’s miserable or not. I have love here. So much of it. And there’s nothing — not a damn thing — that would make me turn my back on it.”

Something in his impassioned speech clearly hits a nerve with Kaeda. She goes still.

And she looks…small, despite being fairly tall. She looks…insignificant.

Her eyes fill with tears. One spills over and rolls down her cheek as she whispers, “Please, Azriel.”

Azriel says nothing. Stares at her.

“Please.” She takes a step closer. “I’m not above begging. I…” Her voice cracks. “I need this. I need you to say yes—”

“Your father,” he interrupts quietly, “is playing a very dangerous game. And he’s using you to do it.”

“You don’t understand. I…if I can’t give him what he wants, I’m finished. I’ll have no home to go to, nobody on my side.”

“You already have nobody on your side. You’re his daughter and he’s dangling your livelihood over your head and ready to snatch it away if he doesn’t get what he wants. You’re already finished.”

“Please.” She says again. Tears are streaming, now, and she tries fruitlessly to wipe them away. “Please, just…if this is about Y/N—”

“Do not,” he grits out, “bring her into this.”

“She’s already in this. I know that you want her and not me…that you always have…and that’s fine. Bring her to Fenlaros with you, if you must. I’m sure my father could be persuaded on that. But just…please—”

“You’re not listening, Kaeda. This isn’t just about my family. It’s about all the other families that would be separated, ripped apart by your father’s scheming. He’s power hungry. This is just the beginning of a whole host of self-serving plans that will bring him glory — do not doubt that for a second. People like him are never satisfied, and he needs to be stopped. Not encouraged.”

“You’re wrong.” Her voice is so weak, Az isn’t convinced she believes her own words. “He just wants a better future for Illyria—”

“No.” Az levels her with a pointed look. “He wants a better future for himself. I will not play a part in that, and neither will my loved ones.”

“Azriel, please—”

“I will attend your father’s ball, just as Lord Devlon has ordered me to do.” He breezes to the door, not caring that this is his room he’s leaving her behind in. He stops, palm poised on the handle. “But as for delivering a male straight into your father’s den? You better start trying that seduction on somebody else. Because there is nothing that would make me follow you into that camp.”

He leaves without a glance back. And while it sits uncomfortably inside him that he made a female cry…he can’t help feeling like he’s finally doing the right thing.

About time, too.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

This — this is the last thing you ever would have expected of coming to Velaris.

The tonic you’d needed was an extended amount of girl time with Roza. And yet here you are…in the High Lord’s arms.

“This is useless.” You murmur, aware of every single place your body brushes against his. One of his hands is a firm weight on the small of your back, the other clasping yours. “I’m not a natural dancer. Fuck, I’ve never even been to a dance.”

Fin’s mouth tips up at the corners. “There’s that filthy mouth.” His hand lets go of yours, opting to move up to the cut of your jaw, where he allows his thumb to rest on your lower lip. “You,” the pad of it swipes slowly over your mouth, “are going to be exquisite.”

You square your shoulders. Cock a challenging eyebrow. “Is that genuine encouragement, High Lord? Or an order?”

A deep chuckle. Slowly — reluctantly —he lets his hand drop. “Both.”

Flirting with him like this, playing the part of the High Lord’s pet, is a necessary evil. You’re just so surprisingly good at it that you can’t discern whether it’s an affront to him, or to Roza. Or both.

But you can’t deny that you’ve been flattered by his undivided attention this past week. And perhaps he’s been flattered by yours, too.

Mother bless Roza for her undying support. The best you can do for her, right now, is to keep her in the loop. She merely tells you to be careful.

But a week — a week of cosying up to Fin, of breaking through his exterior and appealing yourself to him. You humour him with these dance lessons, with the preposterously expensive shopping trips and dinners, the late night fireside conversations. Anything, everything, to get him to tell you what truth lies behind the excited glint in his eyes whenever he speaks of the ball. To tell you what it is he’s planning.

Perhaps you’re not appealing enough. You are no more aware than anyone else. And that’s really fucking frustrating.

At least your hard work has kept you from thinking about Azriel every five minutes.

Your breath still heaving from your dance efforts, you make your way over to the table of refreshments by the huge, arcing windows that overlook the city. The High Lord’s palace, you have to admit, is a place you might miss once you’re back in Windhaven. You’ve never been one for luxury, never had more than a few things to your name — but the views are what makes you feel like the richest person in all of Prythian. These are not the cold, barren views of your camp, but a place of such vibrancy, it sometimes makes you want to cry. It’s like the setting of a storybook, laid out right before you.

From behind, slow, graceful footsteps sweep across the wooden floor. Fin comes to a stop so closely behind you that his body heat encases you.

Fingertips make contact with your skin, the back of your neck. The sleeveless tunic you wore for your practice now feels like nothing more than a paper towel.

“You have such beautiful skin.” Fin says roughly, and you tense. So far, this week, he’s kept a respectful distance away. Hasn’t put you in any awkward positions.

You pivot under his touch, pressing your back up against the table enough that his hand drops. It’s not entirely for show as you smile apologetically and tell him, “Sorry — scars.”

Such genuine, slicing rage fills his face. The intensity of it almost knocks you breathless.

“I will kill him.” He says the words like a lover’s promise. “With my bare hands, I will kill him for taking your wings.”

He had the power to stop the practice before you were even born. He is very old — over nine-hundred-years — and very powerful. What he says, goes.

And yet…he means it. You can see it. And perhaps you have seen so much unkindness, such brutality, that little scraps of ferocity, of passion, in your defence, make you a blinded fool.

But a part of him — however small — actually cares about you. Enough to mark your abuser for death.

But your father’s blood will soak your hands, and yours only.

You smile up at him, wickedly, cunningly, prettily. “No, you won’t.” You reply. “Because I will do it first.”

And the fury in his stare simmers immediately to a different sort of heat. Your words are a flirtation to him — a cut of raw meat dangled above a hungry, waiting animal. They make him feel something.

“Such a murderous little thing.” His soft laugh caresses your skin. He sounds pleased — impressed. “I like that. I like it a lot.”

“I would hope so. I am to be your special guest at the ball, after all.” A small voice in your head wants to coax him; tell me what you’re planning, tell me what to expect.

But, as always, he steers the conversation away, a vague, mysterious smile on his face. “Do you like it here in Velaris, my murderess?”

“I do, very much so.”

“I can’t help pondering how much you would thrive here. You were made for so much more than Windhaven. Illyria, even.”

A soft, coy smile — one that comes from deep within that part of you that wants the praise, the compliments — that needs them. “Many would disagree with you.”

“Show them to me, and I will twist their minds until they see in you what I do.”

“And what is it you see in me?” A disingenuous little liar. A good actress. A traitor.

Fin leans down, and for one startling, heart-stopping, stomach-lurching moment, you think his mouth might meet yours.

But his lips brush over your cheek in a tender, barely-there caress. He presses a kiss to the skin before retracting. Straightening himself out. The way he slides his hands into his pockets with casual arrogance reminds you so much of Rhys that you miss your friend instantaneously.

“I see beauty that is unappreciated, and intelligence that is underestimated.” Fin says. “And I see a female that I wouldn’t mind having at my side.” His eyes trace you from head to toe. “I wouldn’t mind it at all.”

No response sits on your tongue. You think you might be too surprised by the genuine praise. The fact that the High Lord actually feels some level of affection towards you.

Maybe you’re not so bad at these games.

He turns without waiting for your response, and only when he’s at the door does he make eye contact with you over his shoulder.

“Keep practicing the dancing, my murderess.” He says. “We’ll make a fine pair at that ball.”

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

If Roza weren’t so worried, she might laugh at the three expressions of outrage that meet her when she strolls into the cottage.

Rhysand jumps up immediately and demands, “Did you fly here? You’re supposed to be resting.”

Roza merely rolls her eyes and shuts the door behind her. “Don’t get your undergarments in a bunch, Rhysand. I’m pregnant — not on my death bed. The babe is fine.”

Her son does not look convinced. Neither do Azriel or Cassian. As if they’re, like, experts on pregnancy, or something.

“What are you doing here, mother?” Rhys stalks straight to the fire and stokes it. Then straight over to the kitchen to make a hot drink. “Is everything alright?”

“Yes. Mostly.” Roza pauses. “I hope.”

Azriel sits up at that. “Is Y/N alright?”

“She’s fine.” If playing games with the High Lord of the Night Court can be considered fine. Roza eases herself into a seat, and Cassian is promptly propping cushions behind her back. “I want to talk to you about the ball.”

Cass’s lips turn up into a half-smile. “We’ll be on our best behaviour, Roz. Promise.”

“You’d better be. Because I want all three of you looking out for Y/N at that ball, do you hear me?”

The command is a firm one, and yet the three males don’t straighten up at her matriarchal tone like they usually do. Instead, they share a puzzled glance, frowns pinching their features.

“It’s a ball for Illyrian soldiers and their guests of choice.” Rhys explains, carrying a steaming mug over to her. “None of us are bringing her along. Not to that.”

“You may not be.” Roza slides a protective hand over her bump. “But your father is.”

All three males go so preternaturally still, it’s almost frightening.

Rhys bites out, quietly, “What?”

“Your father is taking Y/N to the ball as his special guest. He’s bought her a gown, taught her to dance — he’s serious about this.”

“He can’t.” The shadowsinger’s face is like rolling thunder. “He cannot take her there. All those males—”

“That’s precisely why I’m not attending. He needs someone in my place, and he’s taking Y/N.”

“He can choose someone else.” Azriel’s clipped tone, his panic, is not at all personal to Roza. Usually, he would never speak to her in such a way, but—

But this is Y/N they’re talking about. Y/N in the High Lord’s hands, at a ball with so many Illyrian males, too many Illyrian males.

“Watch your tone, Azriel.” Rhys warns, but Roza is holding up a hand. Because she gets it — the panic.

“I’ve tried telling him to take somebody, anybody, else.” She says. “He’s insistent — absolutely adamant that he wants Y/N.”

“But why?” Cassian frowns.

“I don’t know. I don’t know if his kindness to her is genuine or not.” She shakes her head, absentmindedly stroking her bump. “All I know is that he’s taking Y/N to that ball, and I’m not going to be there. You know, Rhysand, that there is no changing your father’s mind once it’s set. I need the three of you to look out for her.”

Because Y/N is just as much a daughter to Roza as the little girl growing in her belly. They know that.

Rhys inclines his head, reaching out to place a hand over Roza’s. “We will, mother.” He promises. “Whatever game he’s playing…we’ll look after Y/N.”

Roza’s eyes dart to Azriel, to Cassian. “Do you promise?”

“We promise.” Cassian, unfazed as always, grins. “You just focus on the little one, Roz.”

Azriel’s face is grave, but he nods once. “We won’t let her out of our sight.”

Y/N is in good hands with them, Roza knows. She may even be in good hands with Fin, depending on what his true intentions are. Perhaps being at the High Lord’s side is the safest place she can be. It’s an unknown.

But one thing Azriel does know, as he wishes and wishes for this damn ball to just be over already, is that he’s wracked with guilt.

He can’t help feeling like it’s his fault — that his actions, his behaviour, chased Y/N right into a viper’s den.

That he’ll stop at nothing to get her out of it.

pom tags: @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @sirenpearldust @queercodedcharacter @azriels-shadowsinger @ruler-of-hades @demi03 @magicaldragonlady @abrielletargaryen @ralsieq @v3lv3tf0x @achase2002 @feyretopia @hayrunnwr @don’t-feed-the-hipsters @brekkershadowsinger @piceous21 @bloodicka @acourtofinkandpapyrus @riri-is-agirlie @siriusement @4valyries @socmono @azriels-mate123 @acourtofbatboydreams @katherinearcheron @nesemi @lupinswolfsbanes @dreaming-unafraid @dxnniiix @cyrygher @liddyr03 @lmllsl @nightless @teenageeggscissorslawyer @brighterthanlonelythoughts @blitz-fall @maybefoxysouls @mschanand1erbong @juiceboxreads @bangtanbecks @florencemtrash @hyemishii @obixix @thenovarose @meshellexplosionmurder @angzlxna @lissy31xoxo-blog @supernatural99 @positivewitch @art3-m1ss @milfhunter-pdx @bbuckysbeardd @coralseacourt @towhateverend87 @sspookz @bird-on-the-wire33 @morrie-rose @megwan @catscanteleport @sevikas-whore @thickthighs-sadeyes @hihelloitsbooktimeppl

[personasintro]

i’m not too shocked that a lot of people find y/n annoying, but i am shocked there isn’t more people who find her rather cute and endearing. she’s always so affected by everything jungkook does because he matters to her that much!! it’s seriously adorable to see it all unfold.

i also looooved jimin’s gfs intro, i hope we get to see more of them too ^_^!

p.s. mimi your writing is amazing and i’m truly so happy that you continue to write!! you really make me miss my old hobbies.

I am shocked to see ppl are going for her head ahahah I mean of course they’re all a little annoying sometimes but when it comes to her, I wouldn’t define her as annoying. I think she has much better qualities than that and you wrote it well, she cares for him and he matters to her, just as their friendship does.

Thank you! I briefly remember that I wondered how I wanted her to be introduced and it all just clicked in the right place, I think! 🙈 thank you for the compliments 🥹💗

[createserenity]

Silliness and why it’s important

Crowley and Aziraphale are so silly and it’s something I really love about them and it’s something I think is really important to them because they can be silly with each other in a way they can’t with anyone else.

Both of them are silly – Aziraphale displays this side of himself much more readily and more often than Crowley does, but Crowley is silly too. Even present day Crowley who often seems to get labelled as dark and jaded and traumatised is actually still really quite silly.

Quick note - this post is part of a series which contains my opinions on Crowley and Aziraphale’s relationship dynamics. I already wrote one on what they ask of each other (click to read it!). This one is silliness, by which I mean the funny things they do to amuse themselves and each other and also to a lesser extend the times when they are just a bit weird, because they are both slightly bonkers sometimes, for no other reason than they want to behave like that.

(By the way, if you make it to the end of this post without the word silly becoming, well, silly, then I applaud you!)

Why is being silly with each other important?

Can you imagine them being silly with any of the other demons or angels? There’s no way Aziraphale could display his silly side in heaven, the archangels are serious and wouldn’t understand the silliness, they’d just think Aziraphale was mad. Same for Crowley, the demons of hell just wouldn’t get it, they’d be scornful or dismissive at best, and also probably think he was mad (in fact we know they would because Aziraphale later utilises this idea when they body swap). In addition for both of them silliness around humans is something they can and do indulge in, but they don’t get a lot out of it because humans probably just think they’re a bit odd. Aziraphale for example isn't as socially unaware as he first appears, unless he’s playing a character (for example when he’s the magician or reporter), he tends towards being basically affable around humans, because that’s the sort of persona he wants to cultivate. Crowley generally wants to look suave so silliness around most humans is out for him too. It’s not that they are never silly around humans (see 1601 for just one example) but usually they aren’t. That leaves them with each other.

Crowley’s silliness

Taking them one at a time, let’s look at their silliness and what it says about them. I’m starting with Crowley because his is less obvious. Crowley doesn’t seem to be super silly at first glance. His silly streak is overshadowed by Aziraphale’s and also his tendency not to smile and be so overt whilst doing silly things. It’s partly why he looks like he’s lost a lot of his joy in life, but I’m not so sure that’s true. Crowley is optimistic and continues to be optimistic right up to season two – he also continues to be silly.

Let’s look at some examples of Crowley’s silliness through the ages:

Firstly angel Crowley is obviously a bit inclined towards the ridiculous – look at the weird and wonderful noises and faces he makes whilst creating the nebula. Aziraphale is utterly charmed (and so are we all).

Next another obvious one – Bildad the Shuite. This whole persona is just silly. From the odd facial hair to the weird things he does, Crowley is just having quite a lot of fun here. His ridiculous summarisation of the permit (“hugs and kiss, God”), more weird noises and faces as he fireballs the goats, his over-exaggerated setting everything aflame in the house (here some of his silliness is for a different purpose – to test Aziraphale’s trust in him), and then ending with his farcical cobbler/obstetrician doing a fake child-birth, complete with ridiculous over-acting for the benefit of the angels. For a lot of the Job incident Crowley is indulging his own silliness for a serious end.

After that we have to skip right to 1826 for the next bout of blatant silliness on Crowley’s part. For a start he’s ricocheting through Scottish accents, sometimes changing from one sentence to the next. He’s having fun with the persona he’s created for himself and he really doesn’t care who notices. He also banters with Aziraphale, Elspeth and Dr Dalrymple here in a way I really love, “bet you left your loom on your farm!”, “more murders, I’ll drink to that!”

There’s a lot of silliness in 1941 and I really don’t need to list it all – the middle name that’s just a J, the weird American accent, his very genuine laugh of delight at the snakes in a can trick, and more. This isn’t a demon that’s so jaded he isn’t still having fun.

So then we get to the modern day. There’s limited opportunities for super overt silliness because the situation is serious in both seasons, but there’s still some there:

In series one instead of miracling the guy with the paintball gun to sleep he literally turns himself into a monster and then declares “that was fun!” It’s ridiculous behaviour if you think about it, but Crowley enjoys himself.

The way he drinks the coffee in S2E1. Seriously. Why does no one talk about this? He gulps it down and then hisses/pulls a really stupid face. Maybe it gets overlooked because it’s sort of a bit sexy too, but honestly, it’s pure ridiculousness and he knows it.

From this point on Crowley’s silliness tends towards being more quiet silliness, rather than over the top silliness like Aziraphale’s is (with one notable exception). In the pub scene he orders the drink with a joke about Aziraphale, and then proceeds to intimidate Mr Brown in a not at all normal voice. He later asks Nina stupid questions about awnings and sudden rain – he must know these are silly questions from her perspective, but he does it anyway because he’s got a plan and he’s just a bit daft and doesn’t mind appearing weird around humans if need be. Later in the bookshop he throws the books around – honestly he could just place them down, he will know he’s being silly when he chucks them all over the place, but he does it anyway. In between this we have Muriel, which is a delightful moment of them both being a bit silly together at Muriel’s expense, except they’re both really quite kind about it as well. Then we get the exception - in the magic shop he dons a fez and messes about with a crystal ball – really do I need to say more about how obviously overtly silly this is?

I’m sure I’ve missed plenty of other examples as well (I've not even mentioned how silly the apology dance is!), these are just the ones I can think of right now.

So all this to say that Crowley is silly and most of his silliness is when he’s around Aziraphale. We as the audience don’t see Crowley being super silly very often, but we can extrapolate from what we do see that throughout the history we don’t see he must display his silly side to Aziraphale reasonably regularly. The biggest piece of evidence for the idea that Crowley is a lot sillier than we tend to see him is when we glimpse him through Aziraphale’s eyes. We know he sees Crowley as someone who does funny things and that this is something Crowley continues to do right up to the present day because when they body swap and Aziraphale takes his place in hell what are the two main characteristics of Crowley that he plays up? Sarcasm and silliness.

So what does Aziraphale think of Crowley’s silliness? Well, he doesn’t actually react much to it (see later for one reaction he does tend to give). He definitely seems to expect it though, he takes it as a given part of Crowley’s personality and I think we can safely assume he likes it, since he likes Crowley. Is Crowley aware of his own silly streak? Absolutely. How do we know? Again because of how Aziraphale sees him. The first thing he tells Crowley about on his return is how silly he was: “I asked them for a rubber duck!” and Crowley laughs along with him, delighting in the silliness of it all. This reaction is a tacit acceptance of what Aziraphale has done yep, that’s totally the sort of thing I would have done, angel, I know I’m sometimes silly like that and I’m delighted that you see that and that you are also silly.

Aziraphale’s silliness

Aziraphale’s silliness is so overt that I’m not even going to list examples of it. We all know how silly Aziraphale is, right? We’ve all seen his stupid behaviour in the magic shop and his daft attempts at speaking French because he’s somehow wiped his ability to speak proper French from his memory (anyone got a meta about how he’s achieved this because I don’t think it gets enough attention?)

Basically Aziraphale is quite often as mad as a box of frogs and Crowley adores him for it. Sometimes he teases him about it, but a lot of the time he doesn’t even do that, he just shakes his head a bit and looks at Aziraphale like he can’t believe what he’s hearing or seeing and like he thinks Aziraphale is absolutely insane. This is a massively important part of their relationship dynamic. Aziraphale is silly and Crowley fake rolls his eyes at him – it’s what they do.

Why is this so important? Well firstly Aziraphale’s silliness is something that he gives to Crowley. And he only gifts it to him after he starts to trust him – Aziraphale’s silliness is a symbol of trust and Crowley knows it. If you made a graph of their silliness around each other through time then Crowley’s would stay fairly consistent, maybe even drop off a bit, (as he gets more worried about their situation), but Aziraphale’s would be a massive upward curve probably starting sometime around the arrangement (which is around 1020AD according to the book). This is another reason Crowley falsely looks super morose and jaded by S2. At the beginning of their relationship Crowley is the only silly one and he’s overtly silly fairly often (and probably this continues in meetings we don’t see), whilst Aziraphale is anxious and serious a lot of the time (there’s no real silliness from Aziraphale during the Job incident) because he’s struggling with his own morals and his own place in relation to heaven and God’s will.

Over time though he starts to trust Crowley and once he does he unleashes the silliness and this becomes a basic part of his personality. For the audience 1601 is the first time we see this, but it’s clear by that point that Crowley knows he’s silly and isn’t surprised by it. Once Aziraphale starts being silly around Crowley he does it with increasing regularity and by the time the events of S2 come around he’s silly so often and so wildly ridiculous about it that it makes Crowley look serious and maudlin by comparison (even though he’s more-or-less maintained his original silly streak at least up to the point where he drinks the coffee).

The second reason this is so important is linked to the first. Sometime after Aziraphale starts being silly this becomes how they flirt without flirting. Aziraphale is silly and it delights and surprises Crowley (surprises in terms of he doesn’t know how Aziraphale is going to be silly today, he’s not surprised by the fact that he is silly).

We see this in 1601 with Aziraphale shouting inappropriately silly things to Hamlet and looking at Crowley whilst doing it. He’s offering Crowley his silliness as a sign of trust and something more, the subtext is, You know how to be silly, I’ve seen you be silly, I know you love silly things and I’m silly too. Crowley reacts with a look we will see from him a lot in the future, you’re being ridiculous angel. He knows it’s silly, he knows Aziraphale knows he’s silly and he knows why Aziraphale is doing it. He doesn’t laugh though because they’re already on their way to established roles in their relationship, Aziraphale is silly and Crowley rolls his eyes at it whilst secretly delighting in it (it works the opposite way too – see the fez scene where Aziraphale is the one who reacts, you can just see the start of a, “seriously, what are you doing, Crowley?” expression before the camera cuts away to Crowley’s mad moment).

The dynamic later evolves into more overt flirting. By the time Gabriel turns up Aziraphale is very definitely using his silliness to flirt. The car scene (which I’ve written more about in another post) is the most overt example of this. Crowley isn’t being walked all over here, he’s playing up to Aziraphale very obviously flirting to get his own way, and by doing so is encouraging him to keep doing it. Aziraphale starts the scene off being silly about the clue and “investigating” because he knows Crowley likes it, and then he ramps up the silliness with his voice and hand gestures the more Crowley reacts with grumpiness and refusal. That this is all an act becomes very obvious when it continues inside after Crowley has removed the plants from the car. Clearly the car borrowing is already happening at this point but Crowley continues to protest and Aziraphale continues to flirt over the issue, right up until Crowley playfully pulls the car keys away from him at the last second and turns the tables by indirectly flirting with Aziraphale via his conversation with Muriel.

One interesting question here is, do they even know they are flirting? And you know what, I’m not entirely sure. I doubt they’d describe it like that to an outsider, but what they do understand is the effect their actions have on the other one, particularly Aziraphale. He knows flirting-using-silliness is a good way to get his own way on minor issues and Crowley, possibly sub-consciously, but definitely willingly, falls into his role in that dynamic providing it’s something he feels he can give (see my other post for more on that).

So is Crowley jaded by life in season two?

Tricky one! I can see some evidence of it and I do think he’s drifting a bit aimlessly this season, with no real home, no direction and feeling generally a bit lost about his place in the world. But I also see him being quite silly, sarcastic and generally amusing throughout the season as well, and he’s definitely still enjoying Aziraphale’s silliness, right up until the ball when Aziraphale won’t listen to him because he’s too busy being giddy. Also though he literally shares a joke with Mrs Sandwich when he’s rescuing the humans from the demons and he laughs in delight when he finds out Aziraphale has blown up his halo. He’s fed up about some things, but he’s not so fed up that he’s completely lost his sparkle.

Why does Crowley seem different though? Well, Crowley, whilst definitely very much inhabiting the ‘thin dark duke’ persona in the present-day scenes, still retains a lot of his sense of humour, it’s just changed over the years. He’s more likely now to channel his silliness into sarcasm, which makes total sense – he tends to keep up with the modern world a lot more than Aziraphale does and he’s lived in Britain for a very long time and British humour is very inclined towards sarcasm, which is basically a more grown-up form of silliness. Crowley hasn’t become jaded, he’s adapted his humour to the modern British world, but also still retained some of his original inclination to just behave in bizarre and unpredictable ways (Coffee drinking! Fez wearing!) He also doesn’t need to be as silly himself now because he’s got Aziraphale, who is more than silly enough for the both of them, and Crowley loves him for it. “I say something brilliant, he says something unintentionally funny. It’s great!”

Conclusion?

Yes, sort of! The whole thing can basically be summarised by something @ineffabildaddy said in response to my previous post. “Aziraphale and Crowley don’t just love each other, they like each other, too.” They haven’t hung around each other for 6000 years and fallen in love against their will because it’s fate or some nonsense like that – they liked each other first. They’ve always liked each other from the moment they met as angels and they have grown to like each other more at every meeting since. They like each other’s personalities, conversation, sense of humour, silliness and so much more. These are the things that bind them together.

We the audience only see their big moments, times when something happens that pushes their relationship forward (1941) or changes their sense of who they are (Job). In S1 we see them face a huge challenge together and come out the other side. What we don’t see and so what we can sometimes forget as the audience is that there is a massive amount of time in their history where these things weren’t happening, where they just met up and had normal conversations and hung out because it was fun for them to spend time together. To spend 6000 years hanging out together and still be able to find the other person interesting and funny and just generally worth being around is pretty impressive and show just how strong their relationship really is. I hope that no matter how big and dark things get in season three that we at least get some chance to watch them be silly together some more, I think they deserve it after all they’ve been through!

[puck-luck]

the art of loving you | john marino

warnings: none really, just some sweet anniversary sex between jm and his girl <3 (italics = flashback) pairing: john marino x fem!reader summary: “maybe he gets back from an away game and him and reader have been together for a while so when he gets home its practically desperate the way they want each other and it's like super needy but also intimate because they just know each other like the back of their hands after so long together" wc: 2201

“Hey,” comes John’s soft voice from the darkness of the night. He kneels by your side of the bed and shakes you awake. The sunlight is starting to peek through the curtains. His thumb caresses your cheek, causing you to scrunch your nose from restlessness. “I’m headed to the rink. We’re leaving from there. I’ll be back on Monday, take you to dinner and all.”

“Mmm, okay, baby. Love you,” You slur, voice thick with sleep. You didn’t have to be up for another few hours and normally, you’d pout when John woke you up so early, but things were different. He was headed out on a week-long roadie and he had a game on the west coast on your second anniversary– meaning you two wouldn’t get to spend that together. Despite being sleepy, you pucker your lips to give John a goodbye kiss.

“Love you too,” John whispers, delicately cupping your jaw and pecking your lips twice. “Be back before you know it.”

He stands from his position next to the bed and gathers his things, heading towards the bedroom door.

“Play good,” You call out after him.

“First star every night, just for my girl,” John promises with a smile, closing the door with a soft click behind him.

A week later, John was headed back to Jersey and you had put on your favorite little black dress for your anniversary date. He hadn’t been named first star of the game during any of their games, but he had gotten one of his rare goals on your anniversary, and his celly ended in a kiss blown towards the camera that touched your heart. 

You were waiting by the door when John came home and you jump him before he even gets the chance to cross the threshold.

“Hi,” John greets. “Missed you.”

“Missed you,” You reply, arms looped around his neck. You pull him into a hug, feeling his hands wrap around your waist and press your bodies flush against each other.

You two stay in the hug for a few minutes, waiting for your breath to sync and for John to start rocking you from side to side the way he always does when your touch goes on for too long. As much as he loves to touch you, he’s never been one for hugs, unlike you. To you, John’s hugs are like crack and you take your fix anytime you can get it.

“Dinner?” John asks, pulling away and rubbing your arms like he’s warming you up.

“Rezzi at the normal place,” You confirm. You give his chest a firm pat. “Go change. This is our anniversary dinner, after all. Want you to wear something nice.”

“Gonna propose to me or something?” John teases, finally letting the apartment door fall shut behind him.

You drag his suitcase to the bedroom, parking it next to the chair before sitting on the edge of the bed. “Isn’t that your job?”

“All in good time,” John replies, following you down the hall with his hockey bag over his shoulder. He opens the door to the balcony and sets his personal pads out on the chair to air out. He also sets his dirty clothes on the chair– something you’ve chided him for in the past, since he could just throw them in the wash and kill the smell that way. 

You watch John change into a suit, smiling widely when he sneaks little peeks at you every few minutes. 

“Really did miss you, you know,” John says, focusing on tying his tie in the mirror on the back of the closet door. “Mercer tried to sprinkle rose petals in my locker on our anniversary to make me miss you less.”

“He’s so supportive.” You laugh, eyes crinkling at the sides. 

“Tried to take me to dinner too,” John continues. “Said he might as well take me out if we were going back to the hotel together anyway. What kind of girl does he take me for?”

“Maybe he was trying to recreate our love story,” You say. “It wasn’t exactly the most conventional of meetings for us. You took me for one of those girls.”

“Yeah, but you asked me what I was doing later, I was just being honest.”

“You’re lucky it worked out for you.”

John makes a kissy face at you, then walks over and reaches out to take your hand and help you up. “Dinner?” He asks.

“Let’s go,” You answer, leading him out of the bedroom and back down the hall, out of the apartment and down to the garage.

John drives, naturally. You’d appointed yourself his passenger princess long ago and he’d never asked you to drive. He orders your wine and meal for you at the restaurant, knowing that you’ll get the same thing you always get. He takes the menu away from you, too, so you can’t even pretend to peruse the offerings. He did so with a knowing look and you replied with an embarrassed smile, rolling your eyes because your boyfriend knows you so well.

When your food comes, John cuts his meat into precise cubes and you steal a piece or two off of his plate, despite the fact that you have your own food to pick at. John allows you to do so with only a few noises of protest, only a few teasing and threatening inflections of his fork at your wandering utensil.

You two make small talk– about John’s games, about your week at work, about the upcoming inspections your landlord is doing for the plumbing in your apartment after John tried (and failed) to adjust the water pressure to your liking. You’ve been in this relationship so long that you don’t need to have the deep conversations all the time, or plan out the future in a lengthy conversation over some red wine.

John is your future, and you’re his.

When you arrive home, John takes you to the bedroom and kneels at your feet, unstrapping your high heels and prying them away from you. He rubs your feet a little bit to soothe the ache of wearing heels all night, a small smile on his face the whole time. You brush his hair out of his face and take in his small details– the moles on his cheek near his mouth, the button of his nose, the scar from the stray puck that marred his skin and left behind the mark that you love to kiss.

“You look pretty down there,” You say, breaking the silence. 

John shoots you a look and tries to hide his smile, hide the blush that always spreads across his cheeks when you call him pretty. He kisses your knee and rises to sit next to you on the bed. “Happy anniversary,” He says softly, like it’s a secret between the two of you. 

“Happy anniversary, Johnny,” You reply. You press your lips to his, the kisses smooth and slow even as John makes his way down your neck to your shoulder. 

Your movements are a language of their own. John’s fingers light fires on your arms as he feels your goosebumps. Your knee presses into his thigh, the connection of your skin on his stronger than a dam. His tongue moves against yours insistently when he makes his way back up to your mouth.

“You gonna let me fuck you like I wanted to the other night?”

You moan into John’s mouth. “Hard?”

“Mm-mm,” John hums, shaking his head. He reaches down, pulls your panties to the side, and starts to slide a finger into you. “Slow,” He breathes out, not even a hair’s distance from your lips. “I’m going to touch you everywhere, angel. You’re gonna feel every bit of me.”

“Even better,” You say. “Want you to fill me up.”

John thrusts his finger inside you and works a second in, scissoring and curling his fingers until you’re a moaning mess beside him.

Your hand is gripping his shoulder so hard that your fingernails might as well tear his shirt. You’re panting, mouth perpetually open. The pressure between your legs is insurmountable, aching and throbbing as John pulls you closer to the edge.

“Johnny, Johnny,” You plead, pushing at his arm. “Fuck me, want to come when you fuck me.”

“Finger yourself,” John commands, pulling away from you to shrug his suit jacket off. He unbuttons his top as you shove three fingers inside your cunt, hungry for more. Really, you’re keeping yourself full while he acts as eye candy. You’re not trying to chase an orgasm, like you normally are when you and Johnny fuck. No, today you’re just here, just waiting to feel his cock enter you and satisfy you in a way that your fingers never could. 

He strips hurriedly, standing just mere inches from the bed. He throws the clothes around the room, not caring where they land. You track each movement, having seen his naked chest plenty of times to have it memorized by now. His underwear make their way to the arm of the chair in the corner, and it’s when you realize that he’s naked that your eyes return to his figure.

His cock is just as wonderful as ever– you’ve been in love with John for a long time, but his beautiful cock and the way he fucks you always makes you love him just a little bit more. He knows it, too, from the way he smirks at you– he knows that you love him, but if he was a shit fuck, you would tell him that you have the capacity to love him more. Maybe that’s crazy.

You pull your fingers out of your entrance and use them to spread your lips, showing John the expanse of the part of you that’s just for him. 

John smiles, takes his cock in his hand, and pumps himself a few times. 

You bite your lip and return his smile, watching the precum bubble and drip from his slit.

“Fuck me, J,” You beg. “Please.”

John joins you again on the bed, pushing you down onto your back and opting to forego your little black dress altogether and slide your panties down your legs instead. “You look so pretty,” John compliments. 

“Thank you,” You reply, feeling shy all of a sudden.

“Wanna see how your tits bounce in this dress while I fuck you,” John continues, leaning over you on the bed and lining himself up with your core. One of his legs pins your knee to the bed, while the other stays straight and braces against the floor. 

His words seem to steal all the thoughts from your mind, leaving nothing but the feeling between the two of you as he pushes the bulbous head of his cock into you. 

John moves slowly, like he promised. He fills you, warms you from the inside-out. He punctuates each drag with a sharp push into your core, causing your body to shift up on the bed. He raises a hand and grasps your breast, both keeping you in place and filling his palm with one of his favorite body parts of yours. 

You don’t exchange words, minus a reassuring, hushed “I know,” that drips from John’s lips and into your ear when you become close. He fishes your boob out of your dress and dips down to attach his mouth to your nipple, reaching his other hand down to soothe circles onto your clit. The added stimulation sends you into a whirlwind and John can practically feel the pitter-patter of your heart from where he’s sucking at your chest. 

“Johnny,” You cry, clutching his shoulder and arching your back beneath him.

“Yeah, honey. I know, my angel,” He mumbles against your skin. He leaves burning kisses along your body up to your lips. 

“Please,” You say, high strung and wanting so much that you’re almost shaking with it.

John moans, wrenching himself away from your lips to press a kiss to your cheek, then returning to your lips. His thrusts grow stuttered and desperate, no longer slow. They’re just as passionate, just as fulfilling, and John coaxes the orgasm out of you just as he unravels himself.

He holds you like you’re a precious liquid that is slipping through his fingers. 

You almost want to cry from the feeling, the knowledge that you and John share so much love between the two of you and there will be nights like this for the rest of your life.

John leads you over the edge and guides you through it, holding you and murmuring sweet nothings into your ear until your breath returns to normal. He traces your cheek, then draws his fingers down your neck.

“You’re everything,” John says. “I meant it. I’m going to marry you… all in due time.”

Instead of a response, you take his hand in yours and press a kiss to the back of it. You lace your fingers together and bring your interlocked hands to your chest, resting them over your heart. All you can do, really, is smile and cuddle closer to John, feeling his heat fill the bed and making you doze off.

note: just finished watching "you've got mail" for the first time. sigh. what a movie. devastating. sooo invisible string. corporations need to stop winning.

[theemporium]

🧸 lando’s reaction to his twins dressing up as max and daniel for halloween (like rbr suit & kangaroo costume) saying they’re their uncles😭💗 idk if he’d find it more hilarious or cute skdksks

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

.

“I don’t understand why I have to wear this blindfold!”

“Because it’s a surprise!”

“I don’t like that you three have been conspiring behind my back!”

“I am surprised you even know what that means.”

Lando couldn’t help but let out a snort, shaking his head as he settled back in his seat. It was dress up day at the twins’ school and they had been eager to choose their costumes this year; you had told him as much on the phone whilst he was back at the factory for a few days. He had asked multiple times what the twins had chosen but you never once gave him a concise answer.

He had been eager to see the costumes this morning, only to be told he was banned from the twins’ room. Instead, he was set on the couch with a blindfold over his eyes (the twins’ request) to make sure he wouldn’t peak before they were ready. 

“Okay, you ready?” 

He heard some giggles and couldn’t help but let his lips twitch upwards. “Yes! Show me!” 

“Three!”

“Two!”

“One!” 

“Go!”

It took Lando a few seconds to blink away the fuzziness as he pulled the blindfold off his head, letting his vision focus again before he was taking in the sight in front of him. Both twins stood a few feet in front of him, grinning wide and proud as they awaited his reaction. 

Delilah was on the left, dark brown curls like his own poking out from the kangaroo hat that was settled on her head. Lorelai was no better, though hers was a lion instead, with a massive mane framing her round face as she smiled widely. It took him a few seconds before he looked down, seeing the mini racing suits they were wearing before it all clicked to him. 

And once it had, he couldn’t help but let out a loud, boisterous laugh that the twins seemed to reciprocate. 

“Oh, the boys are gonna love this!” 

“Do you like it, daddy?” Delilah had asked, her eyes big, doe eyes staring at him with such eagerness. 

“I love them, honey,” Lando smiled, reaching for his phone to take a picture of this scene. “And I’m sure Uncle Max and Uncle Daniel are gonna love it too.”

“The girls felt bad when they both dressed up as you last year,” you explained with an amused smile on your face. Both Max and Daniel had joked that their feelings were hurt and, with the twins having big hearts as they did, they wanted to cheer their uncles up. 

“Well, you two look so much cuter than your uncles but I am sure they will love it,” Lando said to them as he reached for them both, his smile widening as they squealed when he lightly tickled their sides before hugging them close. “But we all know who the best team is, right?”

“Papaya!” They both exclaimed together.

Lando smiled proudly. “My smart girls.”

.

[shotos-wifeyy]

A hard day of training. shoto is exhausted and upset. you want to make him feel… a little bit better.

NSFW WARNING

You’re sitting in shoto’s dorm, clicking away at your computer and writing stuff down at his desk. Aizawa gave you a last minute assignment, you are trying to finish it so you can help shoto with his when he gets home. it’s very late, maybe 11:00pm and you have school the next morning.

Shoto eventually walks in, panting and sweating in his workout clothes. he groans as he wipes his face off with a towel and collapses on his bed.

“well hi to you too.” You scoff.

He raises a thumbs up before waving you off.

“what’s up your ass?” you ask.

He sits up, leaning on his back hands and staring at you. “my father.”

“Him again? what now.”

He nods and sighs, running a hand down his face. “He thinks he has so much power now that i’m doing the internship with him.”

“didnt he make you do the internship with him?” You ask, tilting your head.

He groans and flops back down “don’t remind me.”

You frown and get out from his desk, sitting down and crawling over to him, he eyes you from where he lays. “what?” he asked, unamused.

“i’m worried about you” You whisper.

“There’s nothing we can do about it” He sighs. “You gonna sleep in here? if not i would head out so i can sleep.” He shuts his eyes.

He’s never been one to push you out so easily, so you know he’s had a rough day. “want to get it out of your system?” You ask.

He raises and eyebrow as he looks at you, only opening one eye. “what? by beating up my father? i wish.”

“no i mean like….” You nudge him. He just looks at you confusion written on his face. “like… doing stuff your father wouldn’t approve of.”

“arson?” He replies.

“no” You pout.

“Murder.”

“no??!”

“Drugs… no! selling illegal drugs?!”

“shoto!” You drop your jaw “i ment sex?! jesus your mind is corrupted.”

He blushes heavily and sits up. “As much as i would love to have sex with you right now, i can barely move my legs.” He frowns.

“damn. never thought i’d see the day you would turn me down for that. are you toga?” You mock, tilting your head.

He groans. “this again? My favorite color is white, my favorite food is cold soba, and my size is-“

“WOAH okay okay your not toga!”

He looks at you in confusion. “You’ve seen it many times. why don’t you want me talking about it all of a sudden?”

“shoto istg”

After a bit of banter you help him to get changed and settle down with him, you wrapped in his arms.

“You sure?” You ask, pouting slightly.

“yes i’m sure.” He also kind of pouts. “aizawa will be upset if nither of us can walk tomorrow… i don’t want to drag you into that”

“lame” you snuggle your head into his chest. he places a soft kiss on your hair.

You run your hands over his chest, reaching under his shirt. his breath hitches but he dosent protest. You slowly move your hand down and he grabs your wrist.

“Y/n, Don’t tease me right now.”

“i’m not teasing!” You pout. “i want to make you feel better…”

He looks at you, a kind of look that can kill a man. He pushes a stand of hair behind your ear and leans his head back onto his pillow, dropping your wrist.

You slowly slide your hand down, placing with the hem of his boxers as his breath speeds up slightly.

You keep your eyes locked on his face to watch his expressions as you slowly slide your hand down and wrap around him. he sucks in a shaky breath, one hand moving to hold your thigh, the other softly grabbing the sheets. You bite your lip. He lifts his hips, practically begging for friction.

“thought you said you were too tired?” You giggle.

“Shut up, y/n…”

You move your hand softly, up and down, nice and slow, ignoring the small amount of precum on your hand from when you teased the tip. He clentches his teeth, trying to hold back noises as he grips onto your thigh.

You sped up a bit, tightening your grip, hand hitting his leg slightly. he lets out a soft moan, hand gripping onto the sheets as he arches his back into your hand.

“fuck y/n..” He breaths, moaning.

“mm.. does that feel good lovey?” You speed up.

He tries to say something but can’t even get a word out as he moans and pants. You slow down, making sure to get all of his length for a few thrusts of your hand, before moving back up and fast again.

He’s jerking his hips into your hand, rubbing hard circles into your thigh and gripping occasionally. After a while of you speeding up and his back arching he speaks up.

“i-i’m so close-“

“Come on… let go~” You sooth.

He lets out a breathy, loud moan of your name after a few more strokes. a warm liquid seeps onto your hand and you grin, touching him a bit more to help him come down from his high.

You get up to the bathroom and wash your hands, coming back with a rag to wash him and his bed down. he’s panting and staring at the ceiling as he slowly comes back to reality.

When you finish cleaning and fix his boxers, he pulls you onto his chest and snuggles his head into your neck.

“thank you..” He mumbles, hot breath hitting your skin.

“of corse my love…” you pet his hair tenderly, kissing his forehead.

“when i feel better…i’m gonna pay you back for this”

Your eyes widen. “t-that’s not nesacary-“

He locks eyes with you. enjoy walking while you can. you’ll be out of commission for a few days soon.

for now, your snuggled up in his arms. the only sound is your soft, in sync breathing.

“think your father would approve of that?” You ask.

“definitely not.” He huffs.

“hurray!”

[in-class-daydreams]

i think what the anon actually meant when they said “incestuous” was if their relationship contained any EMOTIONAL incest on sen’s side?

when reading, sen does seem to have some form of emotionally incestuous feelings towards his mother but it doesn’t seem like the mother has those same feelings. whether he does have those feelings or not is entirely up to you.

this isn’t to say your writing is bad or anything. it’s actually very good and i thoroughly enjoy this au. i wouldn’t change a single thing about the way you write, especially when it comes to sen and his relationships.

there’s also nothing wrong with writing about emotional incest. it’s a very real thing and can happen in situations like the one in your au. as long as it isn’t romanticized or sexualized, it shouldn’t be a problem.

obviously, you don’t owe anyone an explanation but the people that are turned off by that impression might feel better with some clarification on the relationship.

(also, idk if you do emoji anons but if so, perhaps could i be 🦤?)

Emotionally, it sure seems that way, doesn't it? I've said he's weird, I've said he's a bit yandere about it, but I feel this is one of those things readers have to interpret themselves. Is his behavior appropriate? And regardless of the answer, can you (the general "you" not you specifically) sympathize with how he ended up that way? Did we expect a boy - burdened with great power from birth, plunged into an inherently flawed society - to turn out well-adjusted?

And I'm not blasting you in particular, this ask is very polite/constructive - especially compared to a lot of other asks I've gotten since this AU blew up - it's just that I write expecting readers to do some mental legwork on the more complex themes.

Take Nabokov's Lolita for example. It deals with some pretty gross and problematic subject matter, but Nabokov is expecting readers to be able to read between the lines that just because that inappropriate behavior is at the forefront of the novel, the actual message is that this sort of behavior is reprehensible. The average person isn't sitting there like, "Wow, these are all great ideas!"

This AU won't be everyone's cup of tea, and that's ok, because work portraying problematic themes has a right to exist, but in the same vein, people have the right not to read it.

~

Thank you so much for the ask!

Click [here] for more of Sen being mean to his dad | Ask stuff about Sen and the fam [here]

[evera-era]

heal me.

there’s a new medic in town, and ellie williams is about to find out who she is.

ellie williams x fem!reader, pt 2 here

warnings: fluff, mention of cuts/wounds, medical setting, suggestive themes. wc 1.3k

a/n: first time writing an ellie fic! if this does well i might post a second + third part <3

Ellie hated anything to do with doctors. She could take care of herself perfectly fine, she swears. But Dina witnessed her earning a nasty gash during a patrol, and wouldn’t shut up about it unless she got it checked out.

Word was that there was a new medic in town. Ellie’s pretty sure she’s seen you around Jackson. Walking around in those dumb white clothes, tending to everyone who needed you.

You’ve seen her too. Sneaking glances anytime you could. I mean, Ellie was pretty, and it was no big deal, right?

That is, until a flash of auburn hair ducks into the med clinic, and you nearly jump out of your skin.

Ellie clears her throat. “Uh… you guys are pretty much done for the night, right?”

She’s hoping you would say yes so she could just go back home and rest. Watch a movie, maybe. Have everyone fuck off and leave her alone.

You nod, clicking your pen, when you notice her clutching her side. “But I’ve got time for one more.”

You were on call, anyway, so your shift was never really over.

Fuck, she thinks. Ellie has always had trouble asking for help. She could take care of herself just fine. It didn’t help that you were so nice — nauseatingly so — but she figures that’s why you’re the town medic and she’s not.

“Follow me,” You add, motioning her over to the first room on the left. Even though meds were hard to come by, bandages were plentiful, and you weren’t gonna pass up the opportunity to tend to your crush.

Totally innocent crush.

“So, what was it?” You ask, eyes scanning over the girl as she takes a place on the edge of the hospital bed.

“Some fuckers we ran into, lone group. Nothing too serious... think they were looking to steal shit.” Ellie mutters. “But one took a swing at me and I fell on something sharp. My friend’s been bugging me to come here, get it checked out.”

Your conversation pauses as you take her vitals. Everything is in a normal range.

“The group…” You break the silence, looking down. “Are they a concern?”

“They’re gone, if that’s what you’re asking.”

You felt a light blush rise on your cheeks. Ellie was so strong, and brave. It showed, even in the way she just talks about her patrols.

You flit your eyes back up, trying to refocus. “So can I see? The wound?”

“Oh. Right.” Ellie’s fingers dip down to grab the hem of her shirt, and pull up. For a moment, you only see her toned stomach. You try not to get distracted.

Then you see the bandage under her ribcage.

Your fingers are gentle when they graze over the gauze. It’s a barrier, but Ellie swears it’s like you’re touching her directly. You move to peel it off of her.

Ellie absentmindedly sucks her breath in through her teeth. You whisper a small apology.

“It’s not… bad right?” She says after a moment. “I mean, I’ve had worse.”

She made a mental note to get onto Dina. This whole thing made her look like a fucking pussy.

“I’m sure you have,” You smile meekly, examining the cut. “No… not bad.”

After washing off your hands, you pull up a chair in front of Ellie. She watches you carefully as you sigh.

“Won’t need stitches, and no signs of infection.” You add. “But I can at least disinfect it and send you off with some new dressing.”

“I mean, it’s fine, I can—“

“No, let me.” You say quickly, cutting off her retort. “You’re already here, right?”

Ellie opens her mouth, then closes it. You had a point. She merely nods instead.

You reach down for the bucket of clean water. When you come back up, you notice Ellie has removed her shirt completely. The only thing clinging to her upper body is a flimsy sports bra.

“Oh,” You all but whisper accidentally.

“Hm?”

“Nothing.”

The rag becomes stained as you wipe the area. A few swishes, and the water in the bucket has turned a cloudy mahogany.

“So… your friend,” You add. “Was it Dina?”

Ellie raises her eyebrows slightly. “Uh, yeah. Yeah.”

“She must really care about you.” You say quietly. It takes Ellie a moment to realize what you’re implying. She’s quick to answer.

“Oh, yeah. Not like that anymore, though. It’s… just friends now.”

You take that as confirmation that their relationship ended. And even though in a way you were happy to find out Ellie is now single, it would be rude not to apologize.

“Oh.” You mumble. “Sorry.”

She looks down. “It’s cool.”

You disinfect the wound with some alcohol before applying new dressing with gentle fingertips. You smile up at the brunette.

“Good as new.”

She feels herself smiling back. She wants to kick herself; she didn’t even wanna be here in the first place. But now it doesn’t feel like a mistake after all.

“Thanks,” She says. Her gaze has softened.

You grab something out of the cabinet. Ellie realizes it’s fresh bandages when you outstretch your hand to her.

“So, just… use these. Every couple hours, change it out, till it scabs over. If you ever need more you know where to get it.”

Ellie knows this. But she realizes that she likes hearing you talk, so she thinks of something else to ask.

“Uh, and how do I know what to look for? If I have an infection?”

“Oh,” You say. “Here, lay back. I’ll show you.”

Something about the way you’re hovering over Ellie has her stomach fluttering. You were so tentative. Why hadn’t she tried to talk to you sooner?

“Gotta check it everytime you change your dressing. If it smells weird, or feels hot…”

Your fingers trace over her body yet again. Her eyes are stuck on you, the way your hair falls into your face. The way your lips move to explain everything. Not to mention how soft your skin felt on hers.

She thought the whole “hot nurse” trope was something that only happened in movies. It was pretty clear now that she was wrong.

“Got it?”

“What?”

Shit. She wasn’t listening.

“Do you get it now?” You repeat, looking down at Ellie.

She blinks before propping herself up with her elbows. “Uh… yeah. Think so.”

You smile again, leaning back so you’re no longer positioned over her. You take your place against the counter.

Ellie didn’t hear a word. But she’ll make the effort now to be extra gentle with herself, because of you. If that’s worth anything.

Silence fills the room once again as Ellie pulls her shirt back over her head. You sneak in one last glimpse before she’s fully clothed.

“If something changes you can always come back and see me.” You add with a breathy laugh. “I’m in here, like, all the time.”

“Oh yeah?” She asks, looking up at you. “I’ll have to stop by again sometime, then.”

Your heart skips a beat. Is she trying to flirt with you? No, it’s probably nothing.

You clear your throat. “Hopefully not under these circumstances.”

“Right,” She says. Her eyes widen as she realized she’s extended her stay. “I’ll, um… I’ll go. Get out of your hair.”

Ellie’s never used that expression before. She nearly facepalms. So stupid.

But then you laugh a little, and it’s such a beautiful sound when it hits her ears.

“I don’t mind.” You add bashfully. “But… you need to rest and get better. Go back to kicking ass, all that stuff.”

Ellie feels her face wanting to turn red again. You were so sappy, and shameless with it. She wasn’t used to this kind of attention, really. She didn’t think people like you even existed at all anymore.

She merely hums, unable to find the right words to say. If she sticks around any longer, she might actually develop feelings for you as if she hasn’t already. So she opts to bid you goodbye.

“Well… see you around.”

You nod, watching her head for the door. You hold the clipboard to your chest in an effort to soften your heartbeat.

“Night, Ellie.”

— part two

[thursdaygxrls]

thin ice — one

part one | part two | part three

summary — she didn’t handle the sports section of the campus newspaper, but apparently, she did this week. interviewing hockey players was easy, though—unless one of those players happened to be peter parker.

pairing — uni hockey player!peter parker x fem!journalist!reader

disclaimers — i don’t own peter parker. and pls don't come for me with the accuracy of this situation i'm begging

warnings — reader is referred to as ‘kitty’ (there’s a reason, i promise), slight one sided enemies to lovers, sewer slide jokes (very briefly), possible maybe slightly ooc, and very unedited

“You’re joking. You’re pulling the biggest prank I’ve ever seen, you are the impractical joker,” she huffs out, her eyes wide as furiously clicks her mouse, “I’m gonna die. I’m writing the note tonight—farewell, my lovely!”

“Woah, okay,” MJ, her roommate, had only just entered the room when she was bombarded with a sudden rant. She didn’t even have time to take down her ponytail of thin, red braids before her eardrums were assaulted.

“I mean it.” Spinning her chair, she meets MJ’s eyes.

“I literally just got here,” MJ plops down on the bed in front of the desk, “Care to tell me why you’re writing that note?”

“I’m a dumb, dumb girl, that’s why,” she groans in response.

“We already knew that.” MJ’s words only cause the girl in front of her to shoot daggers with her gaze; “Sorry, sorry. Why are you a dumb, dumb girl?”

“God, okay, so,” she lets out a loud sigh, “Eli is gonna be gone for the rest of the month—Europe or something, good for him. Anyways, they needed someone to cover his assignments for him until he gets back, and I volunteered, but, like, only to be nice, y’know? I did it as an obligation. But…”

“But?” MJ pressed.

“I just got an email, and it’s me,” she grumbled, “They’re putting me on Eli’s assignments.”

“Hm, I see,” MJ’s lips curl into a frown as she gently rubs the girl’s arm, “Too much work?”

“Oh, no, my stuff’s easy,” she waved her off, “Just reading the poetry submissions. I mean, it can be exhausting, but it’s not too bad.”

“Then what is it?” MJ cocks her head.

“Eli…Eli does sports,” she shuddered. MJ couldn’t contain the loud laugh that slipped out, clamping a hand over her mouth to stifle it.

“You’re worried about sports?” She giggles, her eyes twinkling.

“It’s not funny!” She smacks MJ lightly, “Sports aren’t unbearable or anything, but, like, why me? I don’t know enough! I’ll screw it up, I’ll lose my spot, they’ll stick me back in—”

“Relax,” MJ grabs her shoulders, bringing her closer, “First off, no, you won’t lose your spot, we both know they’d be losing their minds without you. Second, they wouldn’t just throw it on you if they thought you’d give them bad work, right?” She eyes MJ almost suspiciously. There’s a momentary stare-down before she relents.

“I hate that you’re right,” she sighs, spinning her chair around. MJ stops the spin by putting her hands down on the arms of the chair.

“Thought you’d be used to it by now,” she giggles, “So, what do you have to do?”

“I don’t know.” Is the mumbled reply.

“You didn’t even look?” MJ laughs again, “You were losing your mind, and you didn’t even know what you’re doing?”

“I’m sorry that I’m sensitive,” she huffs. Her gaze moves back to the laptop before her. The email is open on the screen, so she begins scrolling through it, MJ reading the words over her shoulder. Her eyes nearly bulge out of her head when she gets to the end.

“Fuck this,” she almost slams her laptop shut, but is stopped short by MJ.

“Slow down!” The redhead slaps her hand out of the way to read the rest of the email.

The ESU hockey team had made it to the NCAA Division I Men's Ice Hockey tournament for the first time in six years—and they were doing damn good. Eli had been tasked with interviewing the team captain as well as a few other star players, but, of course, it was no longer Eli's job.

"Oh, come on,” MJ rolled her eyes, “They gave you a Google Doc with questions, all you have to do is ask them and write down their response."

“That's the problem, I have to ask,” she shivered.

"You've done interviews before!" MJ was ready to smack her.

"With professors! And cool artsy people! Not hockey guys," she cringed, “I bet half of them are in a frat. They're probably gonna be assholes and tell me I have cooties."

“Are you twelve?” MJ groaned, “You sort of lucked out with this—half the work is already done for you! You don’t need to write up any questions!” A sigh left her lips as she took on a more comforting tone: “If it makes you feel any better, Harry is on the team.”

Ah, Harry. MJ had been seeing him for a little over a month by now. He wasn’t a bad guy at all. A little full of himself, but nice enough to talk to. Her eyes roved over the list of players she was set to interview. Sure enough, Harry Osborn was there. So was Miles Morales, who was described as an extremely promising freshman. Zack Coleson, who had the highest number of goals for the season. Last on the list was the team captain: Peter Parker.

“I can talk to Harry,” MJ offered, “I can let him know that it’s you doing the interviews. I’ll make sure he tells them to go easy on you—”

“No, no,” she shook her head, “That might make it worse. And they already know that it’s not Eli coming. Or they should, at least”

“You sure?” MJ quirked a brow, her features crinkling in a way that was only intelligible as concern.

“They’ll be walking on eggshells around me if they know I’m chickenshit, I won’t get a good interview,” she sighed. Even if the interview wasn’t what she wanted to do, she was going to have to. And she would do a good job—a great job.

“You got this, Kitty,” MJ squeezed her shoulders. The nickname pulled a smile from her, and she gave into MJ’s touch.

“We’ll see about that,” she relented. Her eyes traveled back to the computer screen. The interviews were scheduled two days from now at the Stark Memorial Rink.

“Hey, MJ,” she hummed, “Could you grab me my noose?”

The rink was colder than she expected. The empty stands provided no body heat, not to mention there was a literal sheet of ice on the floor. Tugging at the strap of her messenger bag, she took slow, careful steps to the plexiglass.

Clink.

Her eyes widened. There were around ten to fifteen guys in full gear out on the ice, and another ten to fifteen more on a bench near the glass or flitting around the edge of the rink. She was nervous, so she got there early. Now, she was stuck watching them practice.

Leaving was so tempting. She could go back to her dorm, or better yet, leave college entirely. She could just give up and fall off the grid, cut her credit cards, throw her phone in the ocean, sail off to Greece—

“Hello?”

She cursed the muffled voice that pulled her back into reality. Blinking, she found that standing before her was one of the very hockey players she’d seen skating on the rink before her. He was tall, and gear under his black and purple jersey made him appear far more bulkier than she theorized he was. He slipped his helmet off to reveal brown, curly hair that was drenched in sweat.

“Hi,” she replied, trying not to sound as nervous as he would. He cocked his head at her as he popped out his mouth guard.

“This is a closed practice,” he said, though, he didn’t sound all too upset that she was here.

“Oh, yeah, I know,” she nodded quickly, her fingers toying with the strap of her bag again, “I’m a bit early, I’m supposed to be interviewing some people on the team. I’m—”

“Kitty?” She was interrupted by the sound of a voice as well as skates scraping across the ice. Glancing past the guy in front of her, she saw Harry slide off the ice and clomp to benches where they currently were.

“Hey, Harry.” Her lips were screwed up in a tight grin. He’d heard MJ call her Kitty once, and now it was the only thing he’d refer to her as.

“Kitty?” Mystery guy repeated the name with a hint of intrigue.

“It’s not my real name, my friends just call me that,” she shook her head.

“What’re you doing here?” Harry asked, swinging an arm around the shoulder of the guy in front of her.

“I’m Eli’s replacement,” she explained, trying to plaster a friendly smile to her lips, “I’m doing the interviews.”

“Aw, shit, why didn’t MJ tell me we got the cool Kitty-cat on the case?” Harry grinned.

“Could you try to never say those words again? Really hated it, thanks,” her nose crinkled.

“You got it.” He tried to point finger guns at her, but with the thick gloves on, it just looked like he was pointing his whole hand.

“Hey,” he started up again, “You’re a little early, so practice isn’t over yet, but we’re almost done. It’s just the four of us, right?”

“Right,” she nodded in response. It was a relief that they’d been briefed on the situation.

“Alright, well, I’m Harry, obviously, Miles and Zack are on the ice somewhere, and this right here—” Harry jostled the shoulders of the Mystery guy, “—is Peter. Oh captain, my captain!”

Peter chuckled as Harry clapped him on the back. The noise that emanated from the friendly hit was harsh, but Peter didn’t move a muscle.

“Right,” she nodded, “So, I figured we could do them individually? There’s some sort of specific questions for each of you.”

“Sounds good, Kitty,” Harry replied. She’d smack him if he said that name again.

“Sit tight for a bit,” Peter spoke up. Even with the stubble on his chin, his smile gave him a boyish appearance. He looked her up and down quickly, “We can try to wrap up practice early.”

'A bit' ended up feeling like forever. At first, she tried to distract herself with her phone, but it didn't work: she would open apps, scroll through them, then close them just to reopen them over and over again. So she organized her bag, which took about five minutes. Time seemed to tic by in a tauntingly slow manner. It was only when she saw a few of the players emerge from the locker room did she let out a breath of relief. She immediately sucked that breath back when she realized that she would actually have to talk to some of them.

Harry went first. It was easy enough to go through the questions with him. It was like talking to an over-eager relative at a family reunion, one who was just dying to talk about all the new things they're doing. Miles wasn't all that bad to interview, either. He was a lot more nervous than she was. His awkward pauses and constant strings of 'um' and 'uh' was almost comforting. Then came Peter.

"Kitty," he grinned as soon as he saw her seated on the bench next to the rink. He no longer wore his gear—just a hoodie and a pair of gray sweats. His hair, however, was still wet and tousled. She gave him a tight lipped smile in return.

"That's not my name," she replied. Before she had time to properly introduce herself, his raspy chuckle was already echoing through the open arena.

"You said that's what your friends call you, right?" He cocked his head as he sat down on the other edge of the bench.

"You're not—” If she could just make it through the interview without fuss, she'd be one person away from being free, "—right. That's what my friends call me."

"I'm going to be recording this, just so I can reference it later," she explained almost monotonously.

"This isn't my first time," he responded with another light laugh. She had to physically bite her tongue to fight off any comments. A soft click sounded from her phone as she started a new voice memo. Her eyes scanned the list of questions on the page before her. Some she'd already asked to Harry and Miles: How does it feel to make the tournament? What is the atmosphere of the team right now? She chose a fresh question to start with.

"What's it like to be the captain of this team? Are you proud? Overwhelmed?" She asked, her voice taking on a new tone closer to a news anchor than a regular person. Peter's lips curled up at the change.

"I'm proud, yeah," he nodded, his voice smooth, "This is a great group. But we all work our asses off, so I'm not surprised by how far we've come. Being their captain is really something."

"And—"

"Do you normally do sports? For the paper, I mean." Before she could even get her next sentence out, he interrupted her. Her grip on the papers in her hand tightened.

"No, not normally," she grit out, "And going along with your thoughts on being captain, what about making it to the tournament this year?"

"It's the best feeling in the world. It's something I've been chasing after for years now, finally getting to it is just...sort of indescribable." Even when his tone is nothing but sincere, he can't wipe the cocky grin from his lips.

"I can imagine," she smiled tautly in reply, "What was it like working your way up to captain? Was it a personal journey, or did you get support from the team?"

"I'd say it was an even mix of both," he hummed, "Do you like hockey?"

"What?" She furrowed her brows.

"Are you a hockey fan?" He reiterated, "Because our next game is home, and it's sort of packed, but I could get you some tickets assuming you don't have some already—"

"No—Peter," she let out a frustrated huff, tapping on her phone to momentarily pause the recording, "This is an interview, not social hour."

"Aren't interviews inherently social?" His smirk was infuriating.

"I mean that I ask the questions, you answer them," she grumbled, "Do you act like this with Eli? Are you not taking me serious because I'm a woman?"

"What?" His smirk fell immediately, "What? No—no. I'm taking you seriously, I take women very seriously. I'm all for women. They're great."

"Then can we just do this interview and get it over with?" She sighed, her finger hovering over the unpause button. He nodded, but before she could resume the interview, he quickly added: "But do you want tickets?"

Ignoring the question, she carried on. Peter seemed to mellow out after a while and didn't interrupt again. It was almost surprising how well he'd listened: he was giving her real, insightful answers to her questions without a hint of flirtation. The final interview with Zack flowed easily, and she fled Stark Memorial Rink as quick as she could.

Transcribing the interviews was the easiest part. Days later, she would be hunched over her computer in the darkness of her shared dorm, playing and replaying the recordings and typing out the words onto the screen. Her concentration was briefly interrupted, though, when the door opened and a stream of light threaded its way through the room and onto the back of her head.

"Light bad!" She slapped her hands over her eyes, "Light very bad!"

"You're gonna go blind if you keep staring at your computer in the dark," MJ spoke in a warning tone, but ultimately closed the door.

"Then blind I must go," she sighed, swiveling on her chair to look at her roommate, "How was class?"

"Normal," MJ shrugged, sliding her bag off her shoulders, "But I have a little something for you."

"Something for little ol' me?" She gasped in dramatized delight.

"Yes," MJ grinned widely as her hand reached for the zipper of her bag, "Close your eyes."

She obliged immediately, her nose scrunched in anticipation, "I hope it's a million dollars. Is it a million dollars? Am I close?"

"Almost," MJ giggled. After a moment of anticipation, MJ gently grabbed her hands and place something into them. It was thin and papery and rectangular. Opening her eyes, she looked down to see a white envelope with 'Kitty' written out on the front. Her brows furrowed at the unfamiliar handwriting.

"Is there a check for a million dollars inside?" She asked as she cocked her head.

"No clue, it's not from me," MJ shrugged.

"Then who's it from?" Her fingers slid under the lip of the envelope.

"Harry gave it to me to give to you," MJ grinned, "He said it's from Peter."

She should've sailed to Greece when she had the chance. Inside the envelope were two tickets—Empire State University versus Pennbrook University this Saturday at seven. A long groan left her lips before she finally met MJ's eyes.

"You never got me that noose I asked for."

a/n — not sure how i’m feeling abt this one guys. hockey peter has been causing me brain rot tho so i couldn’t help myself.

[gentlyweeps-world]

Wine and Lies 2

summary: A dinner date turns into a heartbreak. But maybe, you could get revenge.

pairing: carlos sainz x fem! reader, charles leclerc x fem! reader

warnings: alcohol consumption, toxic relationship, cheating, sexual tension

Previously: You never imagined that Carlos, your Carlos, would do this, then lie to you. You find that her name is Rebecca. She’s a model, of course she’s a model. Why are the homewreckers always models?

Clicking onto your Instagram you find that she’s following you. Rage filled your body, along with the need to throw up.

You rush off the floor and run towards the bathroom, throwing up the appetizers and wine you had.

Your phone buzzes to life next to you, showing the caller ID of your boyfriend's teammate, and Ferrari's golden boy, a smirk spreads across your face.

If Carlos could do it, you were going to do it ten times better.

LIGHTS OUT AND AWAY WE GO

You swipe to accept the call, “Hey Y/n..are you alright..?” You hear Charles softly say, the tone of his voice showing he already knew Carlos had cheated.

"Y/N? You there? You alright?" he asks again having not gotten a response from you. "Yeah, sorry," you reply, sitting back down on the toilet as gently as possible. "Just a lot going on right now, I don’t know what to do."

"I know what it's like..." he says quietly, trying to be there for you though his voice still betrayed the sadness there in his voice, "I think you should probably just leave him," he says after a moment's hesitation.

“I think if I tried to, it wouldn’t work” You say truthfully, knowing you and Carlos would end up back together somehow, he would never let you leave.

“Then you should dump his ass for a better option. Like me” he says a moment of silence as if realizing what he had just said.

“I’m just kidding of course, maybe.” He sighs

Your eyes widen at his suggestion, I mean you had known Charles had a soft spot for you, and sure you found him attractive but you would have never tried anything, but now, it seemed like the perfect opportunity.

“Really?” You say teasingly, getting up from the toilet and wiping off your smudged mascara.

“If you want to leave him” he says, his tone nervous and hesitant.

“Let me take you on a date”

“A date?” You muse, fixing your mascara and applying some lip gloss. “And why should I go on a date with you?” You add on.

“Cmon you know why. I’ve always wanted to see more of you” he says, and now you can hear the smile there in his tone.

“You know Carlos is an idiot who doesn’t deserve you, I’m the best option”

“Really? And you’re sure of that?” You add on, wanting to see what else he’ll say, now touching up some of your eyeshadow.

“You name the place and I'm happy to take you” he says confidently. He knows he's a good option and he wasn't afraid to let you know it.

“Hmm well, I think I’m about to go out, I’ll send you my location soon” You say before hanging up on him.

You take your time fixing your makeup and hair, then you change into a red dress you know Carlos loves, you also know Charles would love it too.

You hear the door to your apartment slam open and shut, then footsteps lead to your bedroom, turning you see an annoyed Carlos.

“Why weren’t you at the restaurant?” He asks, his voice stern. “Because I had a much better alternative. Why did you decide to ruin us?” You say standing and looking at Carlos in anger, “I know about her, I know you slept with someone else, and I know Im better than her” you say and he looks shocked that you know.

Hearing his silence you add on, “So if you don’t mind, I’m going out”. Grabbing your purse and shoving past him.

“Where are you going?” Carlos asks angrily, grabbing your wrist and yanking you back towards him.

“It doesn’t fucking matter to you” You hiss out to him, yanking your wrist out of his grip.

“You don’t own me” You add on glaring at him. “It does matter to me” he hisses back, “ you belong to me” he says and you know just the thing to say to piss him off now.

“I belong to Charles”, you say and you immediately see a red flash in his eyes because god did he hate being compared to Charles.

“So go seek out Rebecca, I’m sure she’d love to hear you complain” You add on, opening the door to your apartment and shutting it behind you as you walk off to a nearby club.

You get a call a few minutes later, a call you know who it is from. It's Charles but before answering you decide to enjoy the power trip of letting him wonder why you aren't answering.

You arrive at the club and instantly beeline to the bar, ordering a gin tonic.

Grabbing your phone from your purse you text Charles your location with no further explanation, excited to get your revenge.

It’s not long before he arrives, the club a bit quieter than others but still pretty busy he finds you and comes over and orders himself a vodka tonic.

“Hey” he says smiling at you, as he takes a sip from his drink, his eyes wandering as he takes you in.

“Hi..” You say with a smirk, slowly checking him out as you sip at your drink.

"God, you look even better than I imagined" he says, taking another sip of his drink and getting a bit closer to you.

"I'm glad Carlos is an idiot, otherwise I might not have been able to see you tonight" he says teasingly.

“That makes two of us then..” You say softly, moving in closer to him as you place your hand on his arm, knowing that someone will probably be taking pictures, which is exactly what you want.

He feels your touch and he smirks, his eyes darting across you, imagining what he'd like to do with you, how you'd feel like in his arms, and his hands.

"Shall we get out of here?" he asks, leaning down to whisper in your ear.

“Let’s stay awhile, no need to rush anything..” You whisper back, drinking some of your gin tonic, needing the alcohol.

"You're right" he says, and he puts his arm around your back leaning in close. His eyes wander down your body, and you want to kiss him. You want to feel his breath on your neck, his lips on your skin.

He notices where your eyes go to and he looks back up at you, you're so close now and you smell good. He moves in slowly, his lips so close to yours.

With a smirk you pull away from him, “Let’s go dance” You say, finishing off your gin tonic you place the empty glass on the bar and leave some cash for the bartender.

You walk away from Charles, making your way to the dance floor area. It was relatively crowded and the music had gotten louder, almost to the point you couldn’t really hear anyone else.

Charles follows you closely looking at your body as he sees it sway with each move you make, the music drowning out everything else and all there is left is the sound of your breathing, and your heartbeat.

He gets close to you once again this time pressing his chest to your back, the heat between the both of you intense. His hands travel to your waist, guiding your hips against his.

You can feel his hard chest against you, his hands on your waist, a low groan leaves him as he guides your hips against his, moving in time with you, as you both move your bodies against each other.

“This is perfect,” he says softly in your ear. “It is..” You say, forgetting about Carlos, solely focused on Charles.

“How long have you wanted this?” he asks softly, his voice low, only you can hear it in the loud club.

“How long have you wanted me?” he adds, his voice sounding almost demanding.

“Tell me.”

“Months..” You whisper out, but that wasn’t the truth. You knew that this, between you and Charles, was just to get at Carlos.

But who’s to say you couldn’t have your fun with it? Charles is, after all, an attractive guy. And you had a soft spot for him. You knew you already had him wrapped around your pinky, just like Carlos. It was time for you to have your fun.

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radio 🪩: So excited to get this series started! 💙

taglist: @janeholt3 @lightdragonrayne @roseseraj

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