#even when another solution would make just as much sense

[maxtermind]

baby, would i still be your lover?

★ : summary :: when he accidentally insults you during an argument ★ : feat :: max verstappen, lewis hamilton, carlos sainz, charles leclerc, lando norris ★ : genre :: angst ★ : word count :: 2.9k ★ : a/n :: as much as i love making the crack texts, i'm just an angst addict 😔

Max Verstappen

Everyone, people who weren’t even in Max’s close proximity, knew that he was impulsive and a little reckless. With you, on the contrary, Max was usually a think first, act later kind of a lover. That wasn’t to say that when arguments happened, they were a pretty sight to look at.

It was a single thing that you said which suddenly turned into a huge blown out argument, leaving your head throbbing as Max continued to vent his frustrations about unrelated issues.

"You're so hot-headed, you can't even have a normal conversation without blowing up."

"Attacking me now, are you?" Max retorted, his tone defensive.

He was quick to bite back and the ball in your throat made it scratch-y to talk. You were sure that your eyes were welling up with tears but he was too far away to see it.

"I'm just stating the truth.” You started after taking a shuddering breath. “Every time we talk, it turns into a fight because you can't control your temper."

"Well, maybe if you didn't push all my buttons, we wouldn't be here."

He was talking in the same decibel at least and for a second you had hope that everything would be better. Then his words registered and the hope vanished as well.

"I'm not the one who flies off the handle at the slightest provocation!"

You had to stop and take another breath, otherwise, you were going to start crying and this conversation was inevitably going to get left in between because Max wasn’t an asshole who was okay with his girlfriend crying just because he was angry.

"You know what? I'm sick of your constant criticism."

"And I'm sick of walking on eggshells around you!"

He took a moment to say the next thing. The silence indicating that he was thinking it over first. Max's next words hung in the air, heavy with implication.

"Fine, maybe we should just call it quits then."

The suggestion hit you like a punch to the gut. Was this really that easy for him? He just ripped your heart out and splashed it on the ground. Your chest hurt so much and he was just sitting there? Was he not at all affected by the way you looked close to crying now?

"Fine. Enjoy being single and available," you retorted, your voice trembling with suppressed emotion.

Your boyfriend rolled his eyes looking over at you, indicating how he didn’t really think that you guys were breaking up. Though in your head, this was the last time you were ever going to look into his eyes again.

"You're too sensitive, always getting upset over nothing."

You were already on the edge, not having even processed that you guys almost- probably did break up over you trying to talk something out with him.

“Us breaking up is nothing to you?”

The weight of his words crashed over you, the tears finally spilling down your cheeks. Max's expression softened, regret flashing in his eyes, but it was too late. The damage had been done, and the fragile bond between you felt irreparably shattered.

Lewis Hamilton

How can one tell if they really are in a good relationship? Is it the security and sense of peace? Is it the frequent love confessions? Honestly, the explanation might differ person to person but one thing you always believed that made a relationship was being level headed even during arguments when emotions were running high

Needless to say, you were very glad you found solace in Lewis. A person who was prone to recognizing the impact of his words. Arguments between you two were rare, and when they did occur, Lewis prioritized finding solutions rather than escalating the conflict. His ability to remain level-headed during disagreements was a cornerstone of your relationship.

Everyone has those days though, when acting out of character seems more suitable than the usual. Moments when emotions override reason.

You were more worked up than usual. Your insides were burning with this desire to get answers because your boyfriend wasn’t there with you on the day you needed him the most.

You drove back home from your conference, dismayed despite it being a very successful session, given that your proposal got accepted as soon as you were done. You just wished your chocolate eyed man was sitting in the crowd looking at you with his signature proud smile.

After a shower, you sat on your couch to watch some show and just move on from the bittersweet day. It was an hour later, when your boyfriend showed up with a bouquet in his hand. Lewis walked over to you and leaned down to kiss your head.

“Congratulations, love," he greeted, oblivious to the storm brewing within you. “Saw it on the news, sorry I couldn’t join you. Got caught up with work.”

Usually, you would have avoided the argument till you felt like you could understand his side too. That was one of the things that helped you guys the most. You both waited to discuss stuff till you knew you were calm and ready to get what the other was saying.

“Aren’t you too busy with work lately?”

He gave a humorous huff in return, not catching on.

“You know how it is once the season starts.”

“You literally got home last night and you had to go in again early in the morning?”

“Missed me?”

He had a playful grin on his face and it killed you to spoil the good mood.

"Of course, after all you're more committed to your cars than you are to me."

The words left your mouth and you were too far gone to be caring about it at this point. Lewis has been such a passionate lover so this sudden shift was hurting you.

“What was that?” he responded, his tone sharp with surprise.

However, you were done and already up to call in early but his words stopped you on our track.

“Wow. You're so insecure, it's exhausting trying to boost your ego all the time."

Tears immediately welled up in your eyes but you didn’t turn around and with a deflated sigh, walked into your bedroom before locking the door while Lewis stood frozen in his place, not believing his own words.

It was like he was in a stance and all he could do was listen to you cry through the closed door on a day when you guys were supposed to be celebrating each other’s wins.

Carlos Sainz

Carlos was the perfect man. His mature yet easy going demeanor was exactly what you needed in a partner. You hadn't been together for that long to be at the altar but just enough to know that you were going to last.

You understood the demands on Carlos's time, with his career in the spotlight of the racing world when you decided to say yes to a date with him. Carlos was left with very less time away from all the glam, media and the track. Making it precious because of how rare it was.

You mostly accompanied him and let him drag you around to wherever he wanted once he had the break. So imagine your surprise when the only time you made some pretty important plans and he refused to tag alone.

"I can’t believe you’re saying no to this," you protested, frustration bubbling beneath the surface.

“I’m not saying no to anything, Carina.” He kissed your knuckles to un-knot the strong fist you’ve made of them. “I’m just suggesting we do it some other time.”

"But this is the third time, Carlos!" You stood up, unable to contain your hurt and disappointment. “Sorry if meeting my parents is such a chore for you.”

“You’re putting words in my mouth now.” Carlos responded with a sigh, attempting to pull you into a hug, which you reluctantly accepted. “It's not about it being a chore. You know I'd do anything for you, Y/N."

"I do know that, but actions speak louder than words, Carlos. My family is important to me."

“I promise that I want to meet them. I do. It's just… the timing."

"I don't want promises, Carlos. I want actions. If you can't even make it to meet my parents, what does that say about our future?" You insisted with a heavy heart, putting distance between you two.

"You're blowing this out of proportion, Y/N." Carlos countered, frustration evident in his voice.

"Out of proportion? I just wanted you to meet my family, and you can't even do that!"

“Well, I don’t have time to waste on this! If you want to go, just go alone!” His words hung in the air, a sharp pang of hurt piercing through you.

You immediately took a step back and saw him do the same. Both of you standing there as the silence stretched, contemplating in silence what exactly the next course of action was going to be.

“Y/N, I…” He trailed off as you glared at your foot, trying to hold the tears in before one eventually slipped and fell down your cheek.

“Baby, no! Don’t cry!” He panicked about extending his hand, about to touch you but you flinched away and shook your head.

“Carlos, if you think I’ll just ignore what you said ten seconds ago then you’re very wrong.” You whispered, your voice thick and husky.

Guess you were the only one from you both expecting this relationship to last. A second later, you were clutching your bag in your hand and walking towards the exit, speaking up before Carlos could beg you once again to ‘sit and talk it out.’

“Don’t,” you interrupted, your voice barely a whisper. “Thanks for letting me know that our time together was time wasted for you.”

You walked out with his heart in your pocket, your own splashed on the floor of your apartment.

Charles Leclerc

Charles was the love of your life, the very time you saw him smile at you from across the room igniting a spark in you that shaped your future together.

He walked over to you with a pretty girl hanging onto his arm, leaving the impression that they were more than friends. Everyone around you was also convinced at the time that they were dating but Charles bluntly flirting with proved just how different the real life scenario was.

Pippa was just his ‘best friend,’ someone who throws side eyes at you every time you and your boyfriend are in close proximity to her. Despite nearly a year together, her hostility persisted, the woman was a different kind of vicious. Hell bent on draining your energy.

It was physically exhausting being around her with her catty sarcastic tone that Charles always failed to notice. It was just another one of those days and Charles dismissed your concerns as usual, leaving you frustrated.

This time it was pissing you off greatly.

"Doesn't she realize we're together?" You rolled your eyes.

Charles remained silent and that drew your brows together.

“Charles, does she not think we’re serious?”

“I don't think so. She's always been oblivious to these things.”

And honestly? That fucking hurt. It hurt to know that Charles noticed this but was still rather quick to defend her every time.

"But we've been together almost a year?”

"Baby, she just never pays attention.” His arm pulled you closer to his chest. “Or maybe she doesn't want to see it."

"Do you think she has feelings for you?”

There it was, the truth out in the open. As much as it made you want to die to say it out loud and acknowledge it, your body felt lighter while the comforting arm around your waist began to feel heavier.

"I don't know. Maybe?” Charles’ chest heaved with a deep sigh, "It's complicated?"

The heart beating in your chest stopped for a long second because of how unconcerned your boyfriend seemed right now. Was he seriously just going to accept that a person he has shared so much history with wants to steal him from you?

“It’s not that simple, darling. she's been a friend for years.”

“Yeah, well, friends don't act like that. She’s just what? Waiting for the right moment to swoop in and steal you away from me?”

Charles did not like it because the arm was moved away from you in a second and he was sitting a bit straighter now. He looked furious and ready to defend his best friend and all that was running through your head was how he would probably not do the same for you in front of her.

"That's enough, Y/N. You're being paranoid."

"Paranoid? Or realistic? Face it, Charles, you're so blind when it comes to her. It makes me feel so small compared to her!"

Charles, frustrated and defensive, ran a hand through his hair and shot back,"Don't flatter yourself thinking Pippa gives a damn about you or me."

Lando Norris

No one could deny the magnetic pull Lando had on everyone around him. It was, after all, what drew you to him in the first place. You had your biases but he broke through them all with his shameless at worst and awkward at best flirting.

However, as you stood in a quiet corner to hide from the crowd, you couldn’t find it in yourself to sympathize with Lando. He had brought you to this glamorous social event, flashes of camera and expensive drinks overflowing all around you.

You were extremely excited to accompany your boyfriend especially since he had such an amazing season but throughout the evening, Lando was constantly pulled away by enthusiastic fans and demanding media, leaving you aside feeling like an accessory rather than his partner.

Standing in a quiet corner, you couldn't help but feel a pang of envy as you watched other couples bask in each other's company. You didn’t even know where Lando was at this very second.

Then, suddenly, his arms enveloped you from behind, his lips pressing gently against your head. "I'm sorry, babe. Everyone here just wants a piece of me," he murmured, attempting to console you.

You sighed and tried to calm yourself so you wouldn't explode in front of everyone, "I understand, but I miss spending time with you."

"I promise, I'll make it up to you tonight." Lando winked, keeping the conversation light.

That was all he said before someone from your left approached him again and your safety haven spot under the stairs was crowded with journalists a second later. You rolled your eyes before walking away, with half a mind to grab a cab and leave.

It was on your way back home when your patience finally ran its course as you listened to your boyfriend go on and on about how much of a success the event was.

“Why did you even take me with you?” You interrupted, your tone tinged with hurt and watched as the smile on his face got replaced with a frown.

“What?”

“I mean… you barely clicked two pictures with me and then left me to fetch for myself? You didn’t even come stand with me for more than a minute?”

"Babe, I'm sorry, but this is part of the job."

"I get it, but it doesn't make it easier.” You felt your own body shudder because of how overwhelmed you felt. “You were there talking to everyone but me!”

Lando opened his mouth to say something but you weren’t done yet.

“They were all strangers to me and you didn’t even acknowledge this! I was standing there alone the whole time, watching others and wondering why my boyfriend wasn’t there for me!”

The weight of your words hung heavily in the air, and for a moment, there was silence. You stopped to take a breath and not start crying. Then, Lando spoke, his words struck like a knife to the heart.

“This isn’t… This isn’t about you. Why are you always making it about you?”

Your body froze after that and your mind went blank. You didn’t care that the tears were running out of your eyes or that apologies were falling from his mouth. His own eyes were welling up because he knew.

He knew what he said was unacceptable.

You were so zoned out that as soon as the car stopped, you got out of the car. Thankful to catch the glimpse of yellow among the traffic before you hailed a taxi, the distance between you and Lando growing with each passing moment.

He attempted to hold your arm, his own tears falling down his face. You just wanted to put your point across but with his reaction, you were certain you guys were done for.

“I guess I expected a little too much from you, Lando.”

With a heavy heart, you walked away, knowing that sometimes love wasn't enough to mend the fractures in a relationship.

( writing masterlist \ main masterlist \ drop a request ) ©maxtermind // do not copy, rewrite or translate any of my work on any platforms.

[gojonanami]

❝ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐄 𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄 ! ❞

❝ EVERYONE WANTS PROF GETO — IN A WORLD OF BOYS, HE’S A GENTLEMAN ! ❞

✧ pairing: professor!geto x f!reader (part three of the prof geto series)

✧ summary: you always had the wrong timing with professor geto -- first you were his student, then his T.A., and now it was the wrong place -- he’s moving to Kyoto. but you had a few weeks together before then -- so can you make them last?

✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, a lot of smut (for real), so much fluff (we've earned it), depictions of student/teacher relationship (only ok in fiction not irl!!!), reader is a grad student, but age is vague, fingering (f! receiving), handjob (m! receiving), oral (f! + m! receiving), sex (p in v), creampie, shower sex, amateur's take on moral philsophy and ethics, surprise appearance by someone :)

✧ wc: 12,010 (is anyone surprised?)

✧ other parts: part one | part two | v-day special

Time was the one thing that seemed to always escape you and Suguru — fuck,  timing was never your strong suit to begin with—if your late arrival to Suguru’s first class was any indication. 

You always ended up too early or too late to places, your entire day spent waiting for an appointment in the middle of the day, and your meeting days often mixed up in your head. And now—

Your relationship had an expiration date before it had even started. 

The question you asked when the message from the department head came through hung in the air of his office like a death announcement. And it almost was — the second death of not even the start of what could have been a relationship. 

Suguru’s eyes can’t meet yours, brow furrowed as if he had thought hard enough, he could solve the problem of distance with a simple application of an ethical theory — but unfortunately Socrates nor Plato had invented any solutions for instantaneous travel. 

So the elephant remained. 

“When did you—“ 

“No,” he’s swallowing, his eyes meeting yours again — desperate, but not the desperation you had both felt a moment ago — the desperation felt in the throes of passion — no, this desperation was the one felt when clinging to sand slipping between your fingers, “let’s not talk about this, not right now,” 

“Suguru—“ and his lips find yours again, more insistent this time, his hands slipping around your waist, and each brush of his lips steals away another ounce of sense from you, “we have to talk about—“ 

“I know we do, I know,” he murmurs between kisses, his fingers cupping your cheek, thumb brushing back and forth against your cheekbone, “but I don’t want to think any more — I just want to be with you. I just want you,” and his voice breaks ever so slightly, and it cracks any reservations you have — just as this man always did, “but if you want to talk, we can talk right—“ 

And your lips cut off his sentence, only a moment’s pause before he’s melting into your touch again, your hands sliding against his bare chest, his heartbeat racing as fast as yours was — so much so that you wondered if the beating you heard was your own or his. 

“Your place or mine?” and he blinks, as you kiss his jaw, a chuckle on your lips, “unless you’d like to fuck me in your office, I’ll have to admit it’s one of the things I’ve thought about,” 

And god, all the blood in his body must have fled south in a half second with how much he aches for you, “Now who needs to watch their language?” His words are whispered against your neck, as he leans down to press a sweet kiss there, “what other things have you thought about?” His fingers find your chin, tilting your head until your gaze met his again — dark pools of lust stared back — and your thighs would have pressed together, if his knee wasn’t between them, teasingly rubbing against your far too damp panties. 

“Patience, we have time for that,” and his eyes soften ever so slightly, an iota of relief rippling across his features.

“We do?” And it’s a question he needed to ask — had to ask, but that he wasn’t sure if he wanted to hear the answer to — because he knew it could break him. 

“We do,” you pull him into a kiss, your lips sliding against his, “so the question remains, Professor,” you tease, and a shiver runs down his spine, “your place or mine?” 

~~~

You end up at his place — the car ride there was relatively short, but far too long — wringing your hands in your lap, so you wouldn’t touch him. Because you know it would only take one touch — one touch for him to pull to the side of the road and pull you across the console and into his lap. 

But you wanted to do this right — you needed to do this right. You had both waited long enough — you couldn’t hurry, not when you were both about to cross the finish line. But it didn’t mean you couldn’t toe it. And your fingers brush his outer thigh, and his eyes flicker over to you — a silent warning, and you knew you were playing with fire — the same fire that had burned you both time and time again, but this wasn’t his office. And you weren’t to let a goddamn phone stop you from having what you wanted. 

And you wanted him — so bad — and from the way his gaze found yours, tongue flicking across his lips — he wanted you all the same. Your fingers just rested on his thigh, if only to ground yourself — as if touching him was the same as pinching yourself, to remind you that this wasn’t a dream. It was real — this was real. 

It only became more real as he pulled into his apartment parking lot. He got out first, opening the door for you, as he offered you his hand, and helped you out, drawing close, too close for your brain to function — his lips brushing against your ear, “that’s for teasing me in the car,” you barely manage to gape at him, before he’s leading you inside, a palm resting on the small of your back, as you sneak a glance at him — cheeks still burning.

He was so beautiful — in every sense of that word. His dark hair fell in waves, strands slipping from his bun, assuredly from your tryst in his office; his lips were curled in a slight smile, as he pulled his keys from his pockets; and even his hands were gorgeous — they were so much bigger than yours, and his long fingers, lovely veins running across the back of his hands. 

And you’re finally inside his apartment, as he holds the door open for you — the quiet click of the door makes your heart squeeze, his footsteps against the hardwood still when he’s behind you, his arms slowly curling around your waist. His lips ghost your neck, breath warming your skin, “should we talk first?” 

You lean into his touch, your back pressed into his chest, his fingers lightly squeezing your hips, “we should,” and you should, you had to talk about what was going to happen, what this meant, what Kyoto means — but you want to just stay in this moment, you turn to look at him, and your noses brush, “but I don’t want talk right now,” 

And his breath hitches, as your lips brush his, “But we will later?” his voice is barely above a whisper, as if even a word muttered above a whisper could break this moment. 

“I promise we will,” you murmur, your lips curling, as you turn to face him fully, “but let’s not worry about later right now — there’s only one time that’s important, and that’s right now,” 

“Paraphrasing Tolstoy?” He hums, his arms pull you flush to him, your fingers curling in the fabric of his shirt, already rumpled fabric wrinkling further under your touch, “And what do you plan to do to me right now, Princess?” 

“Oh I have many ideas,” you lean up and brush your lips against the cut of his jaw, delighting in the shiver you draw from him, “so many ideas, Professor — should I write an outline up?” 

“Fuck the outline,” and his lips find yours, his arms curled around you, pressing you flush against him, “I have all I need in my arms right now — I’m sure you’ll give a wonderful oral presentation, now won’t you?” He hums, as his lips part yours a moment, his thumb dragging down your puffy, kiss bitten lips — “I already know you’re an incredible orator,” this fucker knew exactly what to say to make your knees buckle. 

“And I know how good you are with your hands,” you guide them to your hips, “able to tear papers and pantyhose apart,” you teased as a tinge of red appeared across his pretty cheekbones, “I’ll expect a new pair by tomorrow,” 

“Consider it a promise,” and he’s kissing down your neck now, and you wonder if he can feel your pulse jumping under his touch, “but I can’t promise that I won’t do the same thing again,” 

And he’s guiding you to his bedroom, walking backwards, as his teeth nibble at a soft spot of your neck, your fingers finding his jaw to guide him back for another kiss when you pause. 

“What is it?” And you’re reaching into your pocket for something, and then reaching into his as well, as he flinches, fingers far too close to a very sensitive spot, and both of your hands emerge with your phones, turning them off before tossing them onto his couch. And he chuckles, “no risks?” 

“There’s already far too much risk when it comes to us — call it preemptive measures,” and you’re leaning back into a kiss, his lips curled in a smile, “no landlines right?” 

And he laughs, nodding, thumb and forefinger tilting your chin up, “Sure you aren’t a utilitarian at heart?” 

“Well, you are certainly the best consequence, now aren’t you?” and he smiles the same smile that doomed you from the start— 

“What a coincidence,” he murmurs, as he pulls you into his bedroom, helping you lie back on his bed, just as he imagined far too many times to be anywhere near ethical, — I was going to say the same about you.” 

~~~ 

“Shouldn’t I be making you feel good first—“ Suguru sucks air through his teeth as your pretty lips press a kiss to his sensitive erection through his tenting boxers, a dark patch of his pre-cum visible on the fabric, “please, sweetheart—“ 

“This is for all the times your email and phone calls blueballed us—“ you smirk, teasing the head with your thumb through the fabric — “and I have to tease you — I mean Professor Geto begging me to suck to him off? Maybe I should make you work for it, write a paper on why you think I should let you cum in my mouth,” and he’s gritting his teeth, cock twitching in his boxers, your words far too effective, “tear it apart until you’re begging for it,” he’s swallowing thickly — and god, he’s so pretty like this, hair splayed out like a halo around his head, cheeks ruddy from his flush, and his chest rising and falling, teeth baring down on his lip, “but I’m much too kind for that,” you’re sliding down his boxers, his cock nearly slapping against his stomach, “and we’ve waited long enough,” 

His cock was even gorgeous — truly what was he? Intelligent, kind, funny — and even his naked body was perfect — his cock was flushed red at the tip, black hair neatly trimmed dotted around it, a slight curve that you knew would feel far too good inside your cunt, and pretty veins you couldn’t wait to memorize— 

You weren’t his favorite student for nothing after all. 

You reach for his cock, smearing the thick beads of pre-cum along his length, kissing the tip, as your fingers slowly gripped the base. He grunts, a sigh leaving his lips, muscles tense as he tries not to rut into your hand and hang on to one iota of self control — and oh, you smirked, you’d do away with that soon enough. 

“You think about me in this room, Suguru?” your fingers slowly start to pump him, his head falling back, “did you touch yourself to the thought of this?” 

“Fuck, Princess—“ your lips curl. 

“Is that a yes?” And you lean down, parting your lips for his length as your tongue traces a teasing trail down his vein, “or a no?” the tip of your tongue lapping at the pre-cum that leaked from his slit, “c’mon, Sugu, not so good to keep your student waiting — maybe I’ll drop the class,” 

“I’ve thought about you — you know I have,” the words leave his lips, any hint of self control lost as his length presses against your cheek when you run a thick stripe with the flat of your tongue up his dick, “wanted to fuck you, taste you, make you scream my name—and,” his gaze softens ever so slightly as his only can in the midst of all this passion, “I wanted to wake up with you, make you breakfast, cuddle you—“ 

And he’s groaning, as you finally wrap your lips around his throbbing cock, tongue swirling around the tip, as his name left his lips in reverence, long fingers finding their way to weave in your hair. Your hand pumped what you couldn’t fit in your mouth. And you know he’s already close by the way his twitching now when his tip nearly brushes against your throat. 

“Sweetheart, stop, I’ll—“ but you don’t oblige him, fingers brushing against his balls, before you’re bracing yourself against his thighs, as you suck and lick at his length, until he’s groaning, “where should I—“ and you suck at his tip in reply, and his head falls back, lips parted in a groan, as he cums hard, swallowing every drop as he paints your throat white with his release. He’s panting and twitching as he comes down from his high — deliciously flushed and messy, as his chest falls up and down as he pants, trying and failing to catch the breath you had stolen from him — sucked from his dick undoubtedly. 

Eyes lidded as he watches you pull yourself from his cock, a string of spit and cum connecting your lips to his cock, before it drips down your chin, “I may get addicted, Sugu,” and you’re climbing back onto his lap, your lips grazing his still racing pulse, grunting as your clothed cunt rubs against his cock, “gonna have my professor’s cock every night at this rate — maybe I’ll suck you off under your desk next time,” your lips brush against his ear, as he gasps, cock twitching against your needy cunt, “how unethical your cock is compared to the rest of you,” and you’re undoing the buttons on his shirt, until it falls open for you, “wonder what other sounds I can draw from you tonight? Shall we learn together—“ 

And he flipped you onto your back on the bed, lips curled in a smile — but a smile laced with lust, eyes raking over your body as he began to strip your shirt off your body, “did you forget, Princess? I’m the professor,” and he leans down to kiss your erect tits through your bra, delighting at your gasp, before sucking lightly at your erect nipple through the fabric, “and I still have so much left to teach you,” 

He is kissing agonizingly slow up your body, first the valley of your breasts, along your collarbone, and the curve of your neck — until his lips finally find yours again. His tongue traces the seam of your lips before being granted access, tasting your own with a moan you swallow all too eagerly. It’s truly not fair for a kiss to be this good — but again, everything about Suguru Geto was.

“What are you going to be teaching me? Kant? Rawls? Aquinas?” You ask between kisses as his fingers sliding behind you to undo your bra, slipping it from your body, his lips parting from yours, a string of spit connecting your lips to his. 

He drags a thumb down your bitten red lips, “No, today's lesson is a bit unorthodox,” and now he’s kissing back down your body this time, tongue dragging over your stomach and belly button, before kissing right above the elastic of your panties. “I’m going to show what I owe you — what I’ve always wanted to owe you—“ a smile playing on his lips, as his legs force your thighs apart, eyes falling onto the wet patch on your underwear with a lust ridden gaze, “and how much I can make you moan my name from it,” 

His fingers begin to ghost up your thighs, before he leans down to ghost all too chaste kisses up your inner thighs, pretty hands holding your flesh still even as it shakes under his attention. 

“Seems like you enjoyed tasting me almost as much as I did,” he teases, dark eyes flickering up to meet yours, as his finger teased the drenched fabric, thumb rubbing against your clit, drawing a lovely gasp from your lips, “no smart remarks now? You always have so much to say,” and he’s pulling your panties down your thighs, seeing your pretty folds on display for him, glistening with your arousal — your need for him, “don’t tell me all it takes is my face between your thighs to get you to fall quiet,” and his lips curl as your lips pout, only making him chuckle, “don’t worry, sweetheart, I’ll make sure the only thing you know how to say is my name after this,” 

He presses a sweet kiss to your dripping folds, nose brushing against your sweet clit, the tip of his tongue tracing your outer lips teasingly, “thought about this so long, dreamed about this sweet cunt, Princess — tastes and smells better than I ever imagined,” your fingers grasp at the strands of his hair, tugging the hair tie from his messy bun, toes curling into the sheets, “wanna spend all night buried in this pussy,” 

And his tongue licks a stripe up your cunt, ghosting over your entrance, before he’s circling your clit again. Moans leave your lips, again and again, lips closing over your clit to suck. Your muscles tense, back arching and your nails digging into his scalp, “barely even started, baby, don’t go cumming just yet,” 

“Sugu, please, more,” you whine, looking down at him, eyelashes nearly fluttering. 

His lips curl, “How can I say no to my favorite student?” And his fingers spread your sweet folds, your cunt fluttering around nothing, as he gathers your slick on his thick digit, working his way into your tight walls. 

You’re gasping at the way his finger sinks knuckle deep into your tight cunt, your insides wet and warm, “your pussy is as talkative as you are,” the lewd squelch of your walls fills the silence, “maybe even more,” as he begins to fuck you in earnest, “think you need more, don’t you, baby?” And he’s adding another finger, the delicious stretch making your mouth fall open at the intrusion of his fingers. 

You’re bucking against his touch, thighs shaking as you do, his fingers curling against that spot that has you moaning his name, his dick half hard already just from feeling your walls around his fingers. 

You’re so fucking close — the drag of his fingers against your walls, your hips meeting his thrusts, “good girl, you take me so well, can’t wait to sink into you, Princess,” and his lips find your clit again, teeth grazing it teasingly, “s’good for me, baby, you close?” And you’re nodding, walls fluttering around his fingers, and he grunts, “cum for me,” 

And you do, your head falling back onto the pillow, as you cum hard, his name on your lips, as your walls squeeze around his fingers. He finger fucks you through your orgasm, tongue lapping up your release, his lips leaving your clit with a pop. 

“Such a good girl,” he murmurs, pulling his fingers around your sweet cunt. Your eyes flutter open, watching him lick his lips clean, before he meets your gaze, pressing his fingers into his mouth and sucking them clean, “sweetest thing I ever tasted, baby,” 

He’s kissing your thighs, as you come down from your high, teeth grazing the plush flesh of your inner thigh, sucking and pinching, before soothing it with his tongue, “s’good for me,” and he’s slinking back up your body, his hard cock catching on your clit, making both of you groan. 

“Please, Suguru, I need you,” your fingers find the back of his neck, threading through his hair,  and he smirks. 

“Look at my T.A., so needy for her professor,” and your fingers tug at his hair to pull the smirk off his lips, “I’d say you hold all the power in this relationship, Princess,” 

“Do I, now?” Your fingers curl around his length, teasing the leaking head with your thumb making him hiss. 

And his gaze meets you so earnestly, it nearly makes you melt, a gasp leaving his lips as he cups your cheek, “You could ruin my life, and I would thank you for it, if it was you,” 

“Suguru—“ 

“If you were going to use me, I’d tell you to use me. If you needed me, I’d want you to call me,” he leans down to kiss your forehead, “and If you didn’t love me, I’d love you anyway,” and he doesn’t let you respond, lips brushing against yours, as he gently moves your hand away, and lines himself up, the head of his cock rubbing against your sensitive clit, “are you ready?” 

And you’re nodding, a huffed chuckle escaping your lips, “Been ready for far too long — there’s no other electronics around here right?” 

He laughs, “No, just you and me,” molten lava stared back at you, a heat seeping into your skin as he guided himself into your fluttering cunt, inch by inch, as his name leaves your lips in a desperate moan that nearly has him cumming right then and there, not to mention how eagerly your pussy swallows his cock whole, “fuck, such a good fucking girl f’me, baby,” 

He split you open as he sunk into you, pretty walls stretching around him — delicious pleasure with an undercurrent of pain, soft praises whispered in your ears as he did, setting an agonizingly slow pace, “that’s it, baby, look at you, taking me s’well,” he’s pressing sweet kisses to your neck, as you bite your lip, “are you okay?” and he finally bottoms out, stilling as your walls clamp around him, a groan leaving his lips, “so tight, so much better than I could have imagined,” 

“Sugu, please, move,” and you didn’t need to say anything more — he starts slow, languid thrusts that drive him deeper into your cunt, his fingers lift your legs up, hooking them around his waist, and you wrap them even tighter, the tip of his cock hitting even fucking deeper, “fuck, Sugu, so deep, so good—” 

“You were made for me, just like this cock was made for you,” he grunts, the lewd squelch of your insides, the slapping of your skin against his, “been thinking about this for so long, pretty girl, never wanna leave this cunt,” his vulgar words only made your walls flutter around him, “trying to keep my dick, Princess? Don’t worry, it’s only for you anyway,” he teases, “my pretty girl’s cunt been denied twice — gotta make sure you learn your lesson this time, right?” 

And god you were — you were learning his shape, his length, the slight curve he had, every vein that lined his cock, every inch — and you’d be sure to memorize it. Because he may be reaching you this time — a moan leaving your lips as his cock kissed a particularly deep part of your cunt — but the next lesson, you would be sure to pass with flying colors. 

“S’close, Sugu, fuck, ngh—“ and he’s nodding, his fingers reach and rub your clit in circles, cock hitting that part of your cunt that has you seeing stars as pleasure rips up your body, as you cum. Your toes curl, fingers grasping at him to pull him impossibly close, His eyes flicker open, watching your cunt squeeze around his cock, a white ring of cum around his base, he fucked you through your orgasm. 

His hips begin to stutter, a groan pulled from his lips, “S’good baby, I’m close—where—“ 

“Inside,” and his dick twitch, “cum for me, Suguru,” and he does, notching himself deep inside you, as he spills his seed inside, thick spurts painting you walls, as he moans your name. His thrusts slow, his lips brushing against yours. And you smile up at him, still dazed, his softening cock still inside you, “well that was very unethical,” a giggle escaped your lips, and his lips curled, as he leaned up to kiss you again. 

“And how much more unethical would it be to do it again?” and you hum, as you flip him over onto his back. 

“It’s a sunk cost fallacy at this point, think we can get away with it now,” and your lips find his in a hot kiss, your teeth grazing his bottom lip, tugging at it as he pulls away. 

“A philosopher and an economist?” he chuckles, his lips grazing your jaw now, murmuring, “I learn more about you every day,” 

“I could cite Kant or Butler if you’d prefer—” and he’s grinding his hips under you, a gasp parting your lips, as his cock slides against your soaked cunt, “Sugu—” 

His lips curl in that damn smile, and all words fall away, as he kisses you, “I think I would rather listen to my name leave you lips instead, princess.” 

~~~

RING. RING. RING. 

Fuck. You give a soft groan — a dream again? 

A small sigh parts your lips, as reality washes over you. Eyes fluttering open and shut, as sleep pulls at your eyelids still. Your hands reach over to both sides, but find no one as expected, you sigh, rolling over and burying your face in your pillow. It was all soft sheets and shining sunlight — but no Suguru. You kicked your feet up and down, pouting. You thought you were over having those dreams. 

But then….why did it smell like him? 

“What are you doing?” And you snap up, turning quickly, the comforter sliding down slightly and find Suguru standing in the doorway of his bedroom, leaning against his door frame. He looks sinfully good — long hair still thoroughly rumpled from the night before, pretty lips a little kiss bitten red, only a black t-shirt and boxers thrown on, and his obsidian gaze fixed on you. 

“What—what are you doing?” And he raises an eyebrow. 

“Isn’t that obvious? Watching you,” he chuckles, as your cheeks burn, “can you blame me? I’m enjoying the view,” he teases, as you glance down and see that half the blanket had slid down, exposing your bare chest. 

You pull the blanket back on, wrapping it around yourself, “So one night in bed and the ethics fall out the window, huh?” 

“Well, you did a good job defenestrating them, didn’t you?” He chuckles, sipping his coffee, “have to take responsibility for your actions — it is your duty,” 

“Oh, it’s my duty now?” And he’s climbing back into bed beside you, “and what does this duty entail?” And he hums, as your fingers find the fabric of the front of his shirt and tug him close, before sliding up to wrap around his neck. 

“Well, Kant said, it’s not the consequences that matter, but the motives behind the actions,” he murmurs, his lips ghosting over your jaw, “so what are your motives?” 

“My motives are…” you consider your words, as you suppress the moan from his teeth grazing his pulse, and you pout, “you’re distracting me,” and he laughs, the lovely vibration against your skin making you shiver, before he draws back, thumb drawing circles on your palm now, “I want to wake up with you, I want to fall asleep beside you, I want to hear about your days and your night — even ones I spend with you, and I’d say my main motivation is to be with you,” your fingers clasps his thumb, before slowly intertwining your fingers with his, “is that a sufficient answer, Professor Geto?” And he’s silent a moment, a sweep of anxiety rushes across your body, fingers grasping at the sheet hidden under the comforter, as you add, “but Kant would also argue that the behavior is not one done of good will since, even if the consequence is good, it’s not done out of respect for the moral law—“ 

And his lips find yours, cutting off your ramble mid sentence, letting each sentence, word, and thought burn under his touch, each brush of his lips and his hands — as one palm cupped your cheek, while the other found purchase on your thigh — erased more of your worries, until he finally parts—

“It’s always good, if it’s you that I have as my consequence,” and he erodes the last of your concerns with his words, as his lips find yours again, “I was going to make you breakfast,” he mutters against your lips, meeting and parting again and again, before he’s easing the blanket from your fingers, gaze darkening as he sees you fully. And he’s easing you onto your back, against the plush pillows and sheets, as he kisses a hot trail down your body, before he finds himself between your legs again, tongue darting out to lick his lips, “but I think I may have my meal first.” 

~~~

Suguru would have thought it was a dream, if he hadn’t woken first. To wake again in your arms, sunlight filtering through in his bedroom, your arms curled on his front, and your legs entangled, the warmth of your breath heating his skin, and your face tucked into the crook of his neck. 

He had to pinch himself to make sure, eyes drifting up to the ceiling to the same fan he had stared at on many sleepless nights with only thoughts of you plaguing his mind, before his gaze fell back to you — only to find you beside him now. 

There was no more perfect dream than this, but it wasn’t one, as the back of his fingers caressed your cheek gently, and you stirred only for a moment, a whisper on your tongue, “Sugu,” you murmured, lips parted as your nestled further into his chest, and his body burned with want. 

Fuck. He tried to shift his hips away from you — this wasn’t helping his early morning problem — now was it? He really didn’t want a repeat of the hotel bathroom again, but this time, he could take his time — because you both had it. The end of the semester had mostly come and gone — he could wait on grading the papers — if only it meant a few minutes more in bed with you. 

You woke up soon enough after he had left bed, hoping to start on the beginnings of breakfast, but he found himself feasting on another meal instead. 

“Sugu, please, s’close,” what was it about you that tasted so heavenly? He had spent his life pouring over ethical dilemmas and trying to tackle problems of moral truths, but as he brought you over the edge to your second orgasm, he couldn’t help but wonder if he should have spent his time buried in your cunt instead of books. 

He lapped up your release eagerly, teasing your swollen clit with the tip of his tongue before running a thick stripe up the length of your cunt, drawing another gasp from you — thighs shaking from pleasure. 

“Sugu, please, enough,” and he eases off, chin and lips still sticky with your cum, as his tongue darted out to clean some of it off, wiping the rest off with his arm, “I want you, please,” 

And fuck, he could cum just hearing those words from your kiss ruined lips, eyes blown out in lust, and your bare chest rising and falling. He drags his cock over your folds again, “need me again, Princess? Last night not enough for you?” he grunts when he watches your walls clench around nothing, as if to tempt his dick to sink into you. 

He bit his lip, it was working. 

Eventually, the two of you lie entangled again, a little stickier than before, your faces half an inch apart, and your fingers tracing his jaw. 

“I wish we could stay here in this bed forever,” you murmur, and he turns his head to brush his lips against your fingertips, soft kisses pressed to each one, his nose then rubbing against your palm, “no responsibilities, no reality, just us,” 

“Sounds like heaven,” he murmurs, words whispered against your skin, “of course I think any place with you is,” except when he can’t touch you, when he can’t kiss you, when he can’t smile at you without his heart aching — but he doesn’t say that, “we should talk shouldn’t we?” 

“We should,” your eyes meet his, an ache that only made the ache in him grow, “I don’t want to stop you from going to Kyoto,” 

“I would if it was for us, for you,” and your lips curl sadly, teeth bearing down on your bottom lip, as if to stop yourself from saying yes, that you’d let him — let him say no, let him keep his old job, let him stay in Tokyo. 

“But that’s exactly why I can’t do that, for you — you said you wouldn’t jeopardize my future, and I can’t do that to you too,” you say softly, pressing your forehead to his, “I can’t let you put your career on hold for us, I know you’ve wanted this. You must’ve since you applied,” 

“I only applied because I thought we would never—“ he cuts off, lump sitting on his throat, “I don’t want this to end before it’s barely started,” 

“Me either,” you say softly, and his lips brush yours — he didn’t want it to end, not now. Not ever. 

And then he realizes — it doesn’t have to. 

“Then we start there,” he says, as he parts from your lips, words said in the promise of the same breaths you both had just exhaled, “I’m not moving until next semester. We have two months of summer before I’ll be in Kyoto full time, and before you have classes again,” his fingers find yours, intertwining with his, hand engulfing yours, “We’ll live as philosophical presentists,” and you scoff, a smile pulling on your lips. 

“You don’t miss an opportunity to give a lesson, do you?” He gives a wry smile. 

“Take the professor out of the classroom—“ and you snort, “what I mean is let’s live in this moment — we could discuss the future and past all day long — but neither exist right now,” and he rests your palm against his cheek, fingers squeezing your own, “but we do, in this moment right now, so why don’t we savor it?” 

Your lips can’t help but curl into a smile, “How about instead of a drink you make me breakfast?” 

~~~~

Was it possible to get deja vu from an experience you hadn’t had yet? 

You step into Suguru’s shower, a distinct sense of deja vu settling over you as you wash yourself, the marks of the night before (and this morning) still littering your body, as if to remind you that it wasn’t a dream. 

It better not be, as you pinched yourself again, pressing your hands to your still hot cheeks, sticking your head under the water. God, this shower smelt like him, the scent of his shampoo and soap lingering in the bath, even after he had left. He had showered here this morning, after you had laid in for a bit longer, emerged from the master bath with only a towel around his waist, stray water droplets running down his chest, drenched black strands clinging to his skin. He had stood here, and washed himself — lathering his body, hands drawn up and down his muscles, from his shoulders to his chest to his stomach — lower and lower—

You bit your lip, as you pressed your thighs together.

No, no, if you did that and Suguru caught you, he would never let you live it down. You finish your shower, the squeak of the faucet as you shut the water off, before toweling off. You glanced at your clothes hanging on the towel rack outside the shower, rumpled from the night before, reluctant to pull it back on. Instead, you step out of the bathroom, towel wrapped around your body, 

You had a better idea. 

~~~

“You have good timing,” Suguru says, smile on his lips, as he folds the omelet, yours he had decided, as with pancakes, his first omelet has not come out as well as this one had, “not late for once,” as he carefully plates the other omelet with some rice as well as miso soup he had made the night before, “I—“ 

And he turns, words fleeing his mind, assuredly taking his several years of education and teaching with it, as all the blood from his brain floods downward. 

You were wearing his button up from last night, the wrinkled fabric draped over your body, falling past your thighs, the buttons mostly done, with a few top buttons unbuttoned far too teasingly — just one more and he could kiss your chest, two and he could— 

Fuck. 

“What?” You blink, chewing on your lip, “sorry I didn’t want to get back on my clothes from last night, so I stole your shirt, and uh,” your gaze shying away, “your boxers,” 

Self control. He had perfect self control — hell, this last year had been an exercise in self control — control from brushing his fingers over your cheek, control from saying anything that pushed the line any further than the two of you had blurred it, control himself from taking you in his office (though he had not controlled himself as more as he was interrupted — twice). 

But it was as if the dam had broken,  the small cracks formed in the concrete now had compromised the integrity of the barrier and had burst the night before, and now — he rounded the counter, his arms reaching for you — there was no putting the water back in the dam after a flood. 

Then again, he was more than happy to get swept away — if it was you. 

“Sugu—ummph,” his name was muffled by the namesake’s own lips, swallowing the rest of his syllables along with your breath. His hands rake down your sides, his large hands slipping under your shirt, finding bare skin underneath. 

“Nothing but my boxers and shirt?” He kisses your jumping pulse, lips lingering on your neck, as his hands squeeze your hips, “it’s like you knew what I wanted for breakfast, Princess,” fingers toying with the hem of the boxers you stole, “stealing isn’t very ethical,” 

“Neither is a professor sleeping with a student,” you said between gasps. 

He chuckles, “Well, a fair point, but let me remind you,” his fingers tease the elastic of his boxers you wore, the pads of fingers burning against your skin, as his erection pressed between your ass, drawing a gasp from your lips, “you wanted it,” 

“What’s gotten into you?” you murmur, as his hand dips into your boxers, your head pressed against his body, lips parted, as a ribbon of heat spreads like a fire in dry heat. 

And he knows exactly what’s gotten into him, his clothes on you, the scent of his soap and shampoo on you, and the way your body just melts under his touch—as your eyes drift to meet his own, looking up with lust scrawled across your features. 

“You just look like a dream,” and his body met yours with a practiced ease, as if he had loved you all his life, and not for the first time last night, “one that I’ve had for far too long,” he buried. His face in the crook of your neck, lips pressing careful kisses as if you’d disappear under his touch, “is this real?” 

And he doesn’t know why his breath catches at the question, a question he knows the answer to, because he knows you’re real, your warm skin under his touch, the pulse he felt racing under his lips — but he still worried he’d wake up in any second and you wouldn’t be here. 

You softly chuckle, pinching his arm, “you feel that?” And he nods, and you turn to face him, leaning up to kiss his lip chastely, “did you feel that?” And he’s nodding, eyes fluttering, before you kiss his neck, teeth grazing his soft skin there, a gasp parting his lips, as you lean back, a smirk pulling on your lips,  “and you definitely felt that,” you press your body into his, “this is real, I’m not going anywhere,” and he smiles, arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you flush against him, “should we have breakfast now?” 

His lips curl, his fingers tilting your chin up, as he leans down to kiss you again, “in a minute.” 

Because now you both had plenty of those. 

~~~

“Where are we going?” 

Suguru laughs, you were sure his laugh was in the top five noises that he made — right between him whispering your name in the mornings  and the way he groaned when you teased him particularly badly. 

His eyes still fixed on the road, flickered to you for a moment while he drove, “The more you ask, the less likely I am to tell you,” and you pout, hiding the smile that creeped on your lips as you crossed your arms. 

After the day you two spent, the next day, Suguru had already made plans to take you on a date — only giving you a day or so to prepare. No instructions except to wear layers to keep a little warm. 

“You weren’t likely to tell me anyway,” he chuckles, as you glance at him again — it still almost feels forbidden as you did — he had opted for contacts rather than glasses, his hair tied in a bun as usual, lips curled in your favorite smile — you didn’t have to steal glances anymore, these glances were yours to have. 

It felt so different from that drive you had taken to the conference — it felt as if you were being suffocated by your feelings, sucking the air you breathed from your lungs as if to stop you from speaking because any word you spoke would only cross that line you couldn’t even toe without drowning. But now, that line wasn’t even blurred, it was gone, washed away by the decision the two of you made — and it couldn’t have been better. 

Because now you could do this. 

Your fingers rest on the gap of the console, before sliding over, and finding his thigh. His eyes slide over to you, “Need something sweetheart?” 

You hum, drawing circles on his thigh, “Wondering if I could convince you to tell me where we’re going with some extra credit?” 

“I don’t remember assigning any extra credit, plus you’re not being graded, but even if you were,” you smile, “you’d have at least a B+,” 

You gasp, “Suguru!” He laughs, even harder when he spots the pout on your lips, “I think I deserve higher than that,” 

He pulls up to a stoplight, fingers finding yours  “well maybe you can change my mind tonight,” 

“Will we ever get there? Or is it a ‘Waiting for Godot’ situation?” He snorts, as he intertwined his fingers with yours, lifting the back of your hand to his lips and holding it there. 

“I promise I’ll never keep you waiting,” and your gaze softens, as he continues to hold your hand as he drives. 

You smile, squeezing his hand, “Good, because I think we both have waited long enough.” 

~~~

“Is the blindfold necessary?” 

“Trust is essential to a relationship,” Suguru replied, his arm around your waist as the other hand held your own, a blindfold tied around your eyes, as he guided you somewhere — the blindfold had come a few minutes before you reached your destination, “don’t you trust me, princess?” 

“Oh I don’t know, it depends on whether you’re planning on murdering me and disposing of my body in the ocean,” and he pauses — you can almost see the furrow of his brow, “you may have blindfolded me but I can still smell,” the scent of sea salt carried by the cool breeze tickled at your nose, even as you still walked on pavement approaching the beach, you could faintly hear the distant sounds of waves crashing against the shore. 

“I suppose I should have gotten nose and ear plugs for my far too observant girlfriend,” and the title makes your heart squeeze, as his fingers squeeze your hand, before parting, only to brush against your hair as he undoes the blindfold, “well since it’s spoiled already,” 

The blindfold falls away, sunlight peeking through a moment, as the world comes into view — a beautiful sandy beach with salty waves parting through the shore, so bright as the sun reflects off the sand, making your eyes squint, only for Suguru to place sunglasses carefully on your face, “You came prepared,” your lips curl, as he tucks the blindfold away, and lifts up a picnic basket, “in more than one way,” 

“Well, I thought a picnic on the beach was a nice way to begin today,” and he pulls out a sunhat from his bag as well, placing on top of your head, “don’t worry, I have sunblock as well, in case we need it,” 

“You thought of everything, didn’t you?” and you look up at him, the light glinting off his flint eyes like sparks, “and now what’s my job here?” 

“Enjoy today, take in the view,” and your fingers brush his cheek, somehow warmer than before. 

“Funny, I thought I already was.” 

~~~~

“Are you cold?” Suguru murmurs, when he feels you lean on him, a slight shiver against his chest that runs up your spine, and before you can answer, he’s wrapping a blanket around the two of you. 

“Mr. Philosopher always has all the answers don’t you?” Another breeze has you moving even closer, as his palm moves to lean towards you, arm brushing against your back. 

“Not all the answers,” and he brushes a stray hair behind your ear, as his lips brush against it, “I still don’t know how you became so irresistible,” 

“All the ethics, of course,” and he snorts, as he hums, his hand sliding against your cheek, as his lips press against the soft skin beside your ear, “Sugu—” 

“Hm?” he leans back to listen so intently, noses brushing, and all the words you have slips off your tongue, every thought flies right out of your head, and all that’s left is the feeling of warmth that comes with being this close. 

God, he was unfairly gorgeous — even now, his hair unkempt from the wind as dark locks trickled out of his bun, his  skin painted with a pretty flush, and his warm body pressed against you made any thought of being cold evaporate. 

“Sweetheart? You okay?” he murmurs, fingers drifting over your cheek, a tilt of his head, and pulls you back from your reverie like the waves pulling more sand back into the ocean. 

“I’m okay,” you shake your head, as your fingers rest over his, leaning into his touch, “I just was thinking how perfect this moment was,” 

“And what’s so perfect about it?” 

“You and me, just,” you bite your lip, “I didn’t think it’d happen,” 

“Me either,” he admits, “I don’t ever want to hold you back — I couldn’t stand to be the reason for your unhappiness,” 

“I could never see you as that,” and his lips curl, “promise you’ll never leave me?” 

“Princess—“ 

“Just promise,” you murmur, “even if it isn’t real—“ 

“Who says it isn’t?” His lips brush yours, a heat that swallows your cold, creeping anxieties and burns them to nothing, “I promise, I’ll never leave you,” 

“You shouldn’t make promises you can’t keep,” 

“Well, call me a Kantian,” he kisses you again, whispering these words against your lips, “because I intend to keep this promise.” 

~~~

“Are you sure there’s nothing I can do to help?” 

You chuckle, glancing over your shoulder at Suguru looking perfectly lost as he stood, watching you, hands crossed if only to stop him from taking over. 

“For the millionth time, no,” you continue stirring the miso soup you were making, as you tenderized the chicken for the chicken katsu, “just keep me company,” you glance at him, biting your lip as your eyes raked over his outfit — a white shirt tucked under a navy pullover tucked into dark jogger pants, “and you’re already providing eye candy,” you teased. 

“Oh, am I?” He raised an eyebrow, and you turned back to the task at hand, as you set the meat tenderizer down, to prepare the chicken to be breaded, and his arms curled around your waist, “and what if I want you to use a little more than your eyes?” 

“Suguru, my dinner—“ but he continues, fingers brushing your hair aside, his warm breath turning your blood to molten molasses, “you’re making a habit of interrupting our meals like this.” 

“The only thing I want to eat is in my arms,” he kisses your neck, feeling you shiver, “there’s another philosophy — ‘the customer’s always right?’”

You laugh, warmth blooming in his chest at the sound, “this isn’t a restaurant, unless I’m charging you at the end of this,” 

“Maybe you should, I’d be more than happy to oblige,” and you hum as he trailed kisses down your neck to your shoulder — he never had a sweet tooth, but you were the only dessert he ever had craved. 

“Knowing you, it would also come with a review written in red pen,” and it’s his turn to laugh now, as you lowered the stove temperature on the soup, before turning to face him. 

He pulls you flush against him, “I’d hope you’d do better than a B+ this time,” and you glare at him, before your lips curl into a smirk, as you dare closer, your chest now pressed against his. 

“This time I will because my annoying prick of a professor is very much able to be persuaded by other methods not available to me at the time,” your lips ghost over his ear, just as your voice used to haunt him in his dreams, “but now, I think he’ll be quite amenable to my work,” 

“Don’t you want to earn your accolades?” and your smile is more wicked than the night itself, as you lean up to meet his own.  

“Oh I will be earning them,” your lips are so close he could feel the words you spoke as you did — every part of your lips, every flick of your tongue — and then he’s met with your fingers dragging flour over his cheek, “after dinner.” 

Suguru gaped at the flour smeared across his cheek, as you turned back around, the click of the burner as you turned it high again, “Was that necessary? You snorted, as you began to season the chicken, as he wiped the offending flour from his cheek. 

“Well, was it necessary to give me a 99 on the final paper?” 

~~~~

“Well, this is just unfair,” you sat in the middle of a cat cafe — arms crossed and biting back a small smile that threatened to bloom across your lips — the cutest one you had found in the heart of Tokyo that you had reluctantly dragged Suguru. 

He wasn’t a fan of cats or dogs, for that matter. 

But now, after paying the admission fee, and ordering your drinks, the two of you sat in an enclosure of cats you were far too eager to meet — and perhaps, they could sense it. 

“Did you break Kantian principles and lie about hating cats or is the universe playing a prank?” you watch as yet another cat approaches your boyfriend, an entire litter already taking up residence on any available real estate on his body, while you had only a single cat in your lap the entire time, as if it was taking pity on you. 

This was no better than when you were a T.A., swarms of students surrounding Suguru, while you were left with barely a soul. Apparently it applied to students and animals, and you felt a small twinge of jealousy — but you weren’t sure if you were more jealous of the cats or him. 

“I don’t hate them, I just don’t particularly want one of my own,” he shrugs, as he scratches the newcomer behind the ear, “but maybe you’ve changed my mind,” 

“I tend to have that influence,” and his lips curl. 

“I have seem to have developed a soft spot for strays,” and you gape at him, as he snorts at your aghast expression, a cat swatting at his bobbing bangs as he shook with laughter, “but you’re my favorite one,” 

“I better be,” you grumble, crossing your arms and pouting, before you watched him pet yet another cat that had made itself at home on your boyfriend’s lap. And you pull out your phone to sneak a few pictures.

“I wanted to ask you something actually,” he says as you glanced up from your phone, he bit his lip, a small hint of nerves apparent in his stiff shoulders and shy gaze, “I’m going to Kyoto next week to look for an apartment for when the semester starts,” and your heart sinks a little at the thought — the summer was half over already, and it was far too quick for your liking. The more you wanted time to linger, the more it seemed to escape you, “I wanted to ask if you’d like to come to see apartments with me,” 

You blink, you ask softly, “You want me to come?” 

He gets up, easing the cats gently out of his lap, as he makes his way to your side. He sits beside you, the cat in your lap, stretching its way between the two of you, as you rub his head.  

“I know we said we would see how this would go before the start of the semester, but I know what I want — I think I did from the very start of this,” he says, as his ebony gaze finds yours, “I want to be with you — and I’d like you to come with me to pick out an apartment, because I want it to be somewhere you want to be too—“ 

And you cut him off with a kiss, arms thrown around his neck — he freezes a moment, before melting into your kiss, his fingers cupping your cheeks, “We’ll have to make sure it’s pet friendly,” 

He chuckles, his forehead pressed against yours, “So we’re getting a cat?” 

Your fingers find his own as another cat brushes against both of your legs, “That or a poodle.” 

~~~

“What did you think of that place?” You ask as you both walk out of another viewing for an apartment, as he looks at the list he made on his phone, “it had good light, it’s close to the university, it’s pretty spacious,” But he’s sighing, as you tilt your head, “Suguru?” 

“Sorry, it’s nothing,” he’s shaking his head, “i think we should look for another place,” the same thing he had said for the last three places — he had found something wrong with each of them, but this one seemed different. 

“Why?” and he doesn’t answer, and you cling to his arm, a hand on his cheek to guide him to look at you, “Sugu?” 

He bites his lip a little, as he rubs the back of his neck, “it’s just far from the station so when you come to visit, it might be a little difficult for you,” and your gaze softens, mouth opening to reply, “I didn’t want to tell you because I know you would tell me not to worry,” and you close your mouth, and he chuckles, “I was right huh?” 

“Oh, a man is a smart ethics professor and he thinks he knows everything,” you kiss his lips, “you really don’t have to worry. We’ll make it work,” 

“I know, but the round trip on the bullet train is four hours, I don’t want to make you wait longer or waste even a minute of your time together,” he murmurs, as you twirl a dark strand of his hair between your fingers. 

“No moment spent getting to you or being with you is a waste,” you smile, fingers smoothing your boyfriend’s furrowed brow, “plus the train gives me time to catch up on my reading — and you’ll be coming to see me too,”

“I know, I just,” he sighs, leaning into your hand resting against his cheek, “I don’t want to ever be a burden,” 

“Not to me, it’s not a burden when it’s you,” your fingers find his and bring his knuckles to your lips, “you’re worth every minute,” 

“And you’re worth so much more than that,” and you smile against his skin. 

“Always have to one up me, don’t you?” And his arm wraps it’s way around your waist, tugging you close. 

His lips brush yours again, “Always, when it comes to caring for you.” 

~~~

“You found such a perfect hotel room,” you sighed, collapsing onto the pristine (not so pristine now) bed, your feet very sore from all the walking you had done over the last three days, “I’m glad you finally found a place you liked,” and he sits at the edge of the bed, beside you, as he chuckles at the sight of you laid starfished on the bed, “the apartment’s beautiful, close to the university and a station, and it allows pets,” 

His fingers find your foot, massaging the sore sole, bringing a low groan from your lips, eyes fluttering shut, “Good thing, otherwise, they’d never let me bring you in,” and your eyes snap open to playfully kick him and he laughs, as he stares at you, fingers ghosting over your ankle. 

“What are you staring at?” You tease, and he can’t help the words that escape his lips. 

“I love you,” and your breath catches, as your mind struggles to process the words that left his lips, and a chuckle leaves his lips, as he leans over on his elbow to hover over you, “I’ll say it again, as many times as you need to hear it,” 

“You will?” your lips curl into a smile, “because I think I would like to hear it again,” 

“I love you,” and his lips graze against yours, “I love you,” again, his lips linger a moment longer, “I love you,” again, “I love you—” 

And you kiss him this time, your fingers cupping his cheek, sliding to the back of his neck, as your forehead press together, “I love you too,” and he grins down at you, his lips finding yours again and again, pressing you into the comforter, “I love you, Suguru,” you murmur, his fingers skimming your cheek.

“You know you don’t have to say it back—” 

“I know,” you scoff, as you pinch his cheek lightly, “I said it because I meant it, I do love you, Suguru — I have for a long time,” 

He smirks, “A long time?” 

“Shut up,” you pout, and he’s laughing as he showers your face with soft kisses, “nooo, I changed my answer, I don’t know if I love y—” and he’s swallowing your words with another kiss — but this one is languid and deep, a heat that sinks in from his touch, as his body brushes against yours, until he finally parts to allow you both a breath, “not fair,” 

“Sorry sweetheart, no changing your answer now,” he runs his fingers through your hair, and you’re pulling him into another soft kiss, before you bury your face in his chest, and he gives a soft sigh, as the two of you cuddle, a small chuckle on his lips. 

“What is it?” 

“Deja vu,” and you blink, he laughs again, “the last time we were in a hotel together, we weren’t together, but we had these feelings, and now—” his lips find the top of your head, fingers running through your dark locks, “things are so different — it almost feels like a lifetime ago,” 

“It wasn’t that long ago, but I’m glad it feels that way,” your nose brushes against the hollow of his throat, “I want us to fill up our present with good memories, so that we don’t have any of those other ones linger,”

“I think we can manage that,” his lips glide against yours, his teeth grazing your bottom lip, “we should shower,” 

“We?” you raise an eyebrow, a heat that sparks and settles over your skin that only stokes brighter and hotter, when his hand runs down your side and squeezes your hip, “Sugu—” 

“Should we take a utilitarian approach? The benefits: it’s better for the environment to preserve water, we can stay close to each other as we clean our bodies, and reach the spots that are hard for us ourselves to reach. The costs would be,” his lips ghost your collarbone, “we would take longer thus using more water, we would get messier before we would get cleaner, and we might spend a lot more time in bed after,” 

“How is that a cost?” you slip off the bed, tugging your shirt over your head and tossing it at him, before pulling down your shorts, as you open the bathroom door, leaning against the door frame, “Are you going to show me the benefits of being my boyfriend?” 

~~~

“Suguru,” his name left your lips in broken syllables, as the head of his leaking cock teased your drenched entrance, your hands braced against the shower wall, the cold of the wet glass contrasting with the warmth of his body pressed against your back, “please,” 

“Please what, princess?” his lips ghost over your shoulder, licking a water droplet from your neck, as he moves a few wet locks to kiss the skin behind your ear, “You’re going to have to be more specific — I can’t help you, if you don’t tell me what you need — isn’t that the first thing I taught you?” 

“No, the first thing you taught me was to never be late,” you gasp as he allows his tip to sink into your needy cunt only a little, before he allows it to slip out, “fuck, Sugu, please, I want your cock,” 

“There we go,” his chuckle rumbles against your skin, as he guides his length to your dripping pussy before beginning to sink in, “I told you we would be in here for a while,” his fingers find yours, as he thrusts into you in one smooth movement, his balls pressed flush to your ass, “even your fingertips have become like prunes,” he turns your head to see your lips parted and panting for him, cunt twitching as he drags a thumb down your lips, “but my favorite student doesn’t mind does she?” and you whimper as he pulls his hips back, only to pump back in even harder, a moan leaving your lips, as he holds an arm around you to hold you, as he presses his other palm against the wall, as he starts to fuck you in earnest. 

The slaps of your wet skin echoes in the glass walls of the shower, steam from the hot water filling both of your visions, as his tip brushes against your cervix, “S’good, Sugu, so deep,”  your walls flutter around his dick. 

“Good girl, so perfect f’me, take me so well,” his balls slap against the soft flesh of your ass as he fucks you harder, “been thinking about this for so long, thought about taking you in that hotel room all those nights ago, and it’s better than I could have imagined,” one of his hands finds your breast, tweaking and pinching your nipple, as your walls only pull him in deeper and deeper each time he sinks back in, “perfect little princess cunt made f’me, only for me,” 

He’s desperate, as he fucks you deeper and deeper, “Please, I’m close,” your soft cries and moans will be the death of him. He’s turning your head and leaning forward to pull you into a kiss, a sloppy kiss that’s all tongue and teeth. His hands squeeze your hips as he rocks against you again and again, the wet squelch of your cunt ringing in his ears, until he finally hits that spot that has you seeing stars, pulling you over the edge. You cum, the coil in your stomach snapping as you do, your walls clamping down on his dick, as he notches himself deep and cums — spurting his hot release deep inside, as the two of you moan, lips parting. The quiet water drumming against his back fills the silence along with your soft gasps and his pants. The two of you slump forward in the shower, his arm braced around your middle, as his softened cock slips from inside. 

He presses soft kisses to your neck and cheek, whispering quiet praises, “Let’s finish washing up, baby, and I’ll help you into bed,” and you nod, boneless, as you lean against his chest, fingers brushing down his cheek, “are you okay?” 

You nod, as you lean up to kiss his lips, “More than, when I’m with you,” and you add with a dreamy smile, “especially when I find out you’ve fantasized about me,” his already flushed cheeks even redder than before, “you’ll have to tell me more about these thoughts,” 

“And if I refuse?” he murmurs, the blush kissing his ears now, the pink of his soft skin contrasting against the black of his gauges. 

You hum, “I have my ways of making you talk,” and he snorts, as your expression softens, “I love you,” 

He turns you gently, finding your lips in another kiss, your arms wrapped around his neck — and he can’t think of a place he’d rather be than with you, “I love you too.” 

~~~

“It’ll fly by,” you murmur, as you rake your fingers through his hair — you had convinced him to get a trim a week ago, the dead ends long gone, and all that was left were his gorgeous locks. He still opted for the long hair look — sometimes it was tucked away in a bun, other times it was half up, and even at times, he kept it down, “it’s two weeks, and then I’ll come by to visit you,” 

“It’s two weeks too long,” Suguru sighs, burying his face in the crook of your neck, “I’m sorry I had to do—” 

You place a finger over his lips, “Don’t apologize for furthering your career with something you’ve always wanted to do,” you cut him off, pressing a kiss to the top of his head, “I only have one year left of the program, and then after that, we’ll see where we’re at—” 

He glances away, “I don’t know where either of us will be — but I know I want us to be together,” he bites his lip, and it only makes you want to kiss him all the more, “if that’s what you want too,” 

You pull back only to find his lips again, “You never mince your words do you, Professor?” You can’t help but smile at this man — the man you loved more than you could express in any combination of words. 

“Well, I find my most bright students need a more direct approach,” and you laugh, as he’s pressing needy kisses along your jaw, nosing the sensitive skin, “I think you’ll find it’s a tried and true method,” 

“Oh yeah, I’ve tried it — it’s very true,” as his lips kiss their way back to yours, “do you mean that? And what did you mean? Do you want us to live together or live in the same city—” 

“I would like us to live together, if we are at that point then,” his gaze meets yours, a hint of concern dancing across his ever furrowed brow, “I don’t want to pressure you — so why don’t we discuss that when we get there?” 

“Sounds reasonable,” your fingers smoothing his brow, “but for the record,” you kiss the tip of his nose, “I want to live with you too,” and you bite back a grin at the joy that evaporates the hints of worry on his features, “along with our non-negotiable dozen cats and adorable poodle,” 

He laughs, an easy smile that pulled on his lips, as it always did with you, “I told you, I don’t take in strays aside from you,” you grab your pillow and hit him with it, as he laughs, “ow, ow, I’m joking! I’m sorry—” and you’re giggling as he rips the pillow from your grasp, only to roll you over onto your back, “it sounds nice — a home with you — waking up next to you, planning our days, spending our evenings,” he murmurs, “feels like a dream,” 

You pull him into a kiss — you’ve had many dreams about this man before you — far too many sleepless nights hoping for this reality, only to have it ripped away. But you wouldn’t wake up from this dream, the back of your knuckles grazing his cheek, not ever. 

“It won’t be — not for long.” 

~~~~

“Still not awake? You’ll be late if you wake up any later,” a murmured whisper in your ear stirs you awake, words prying you from your unconscious, as you groan softly, limbs and eyes still so heavy with sleep. But you know you have to get up, part ways with your far too warm bed and the tempting grasp of your blanket. 

“Don’t wanna wake up yet,” and a laugh rings in your ear, lips pressing soft kisses to your neck, “noooo, please, five more minutes,” 

He relents as you stretch your limbs and stare at the spinning ceiling fan above you — your thoughts similarly circling the drain — you had a lecture, a presentation, a student council meeting to tend to — not to mention a meeting with your advisor and the department head about your thesis. 

You turn and cuddle into his chest, pressing soft kisses along the space where his collarbone and chest meet, you smirk against his skin as he shivers, as he murmurs your name. 

“What? I’m trying to wake up,” as you lean up and meet him in a lazy kiss, fingers finding the back of his neck, “what better way than this?” 

Today was going to be long, but you supposed it was worth it only to end up here at the end of the day, as you turn and run your fingers through his black locks, “What do you have to do today? First day of a new semester,”

“Two lectures and our meeting later today, and maybe lunch with you?” And your lips curl, as you pull your phone off its charger to check your emails. 

“Really? Lunch? You don’t think that wouldn’t rally scandal across campus two members of the student council conferring outside their meetings on the first day of spring semester?” And he laughs, turning to face you, his short black hair fell in messy tangled in front of his forehead, “might be tempting political intrigue, Yuta,” 

And your boyfriend only smiles, jet black short locks falling in front of his forehead as his fingers brush your cheek before he leans over to press a sweet kiss to your forehead, “I think we’ll be alright,” his fingers intertwined with yours, “we’ve been pretty lucky, don’t you think?”

It was so simple, it was so easy, and it was so right. 

And your phone flashed with a reminder that caught your eye: Meeting with Suguru Geto — the first time you’d see him in several months, the first time since you had broken up, and the first time since he had broken your heart. 

And Yuta called your name, his eyes curious, “You okay?” And you only smile, locking your phone and the glaring reminder away, to lean over and kiss your boyfriend. 

“More than okay,” as you slowly sit up, “come on, we can’t be late, can we?”  

✧ a/n: this has been a long time coming - so when i planned part three with hannah, it was supposed to have three arcs -- this is only one of them lmao - i suppose i was a bit too ambitious with what i thought i could contain in one part. anyway sorry about this ending lmao :) love you - don't worry they will all have a happy ending

✧ taglist: @hatsunemitskislobotomy, @difficultdomains, @diogodxlot, @that-goth-bisexual, @bash1018, @dazailover1900, @aliyalala, @ashhlsstuff, @blue041803, @mwtsxri, @bblgumfairy, @sukunasleftkneecap, @xo-evangeline, @fiannee, @teatreeoilll, @chalametet, @ryukaver, @d1gitalbathh, @saga3ious, @seventhcinema, @satosugucide, @your-l0nely-star, @sokkasmoon, @deegausserr, @hyookka, @oggsyy, @littlebitb, @higuchislut, @ti-mame, @itoshisins, @cerene-dipity, @onionsoop, @sinlillith, @izzythenaive, @akvrae, @lalacute03, @rxndou, @c-themoon, @xxrag-d0llxx, @hqtoge, @sugarxlumps, @hopeluna, @actualdeemon, @enchantedpendant, @serendididy, @soulstealercat, @neuviloved, @simply-a-s1mp, @satorusmochis, @maddietries,

[faelapis]

okay look, calming down - i understand why some people would want zelda to be a protagonist in like a totk-style 3d zelda. that would be great! the reason i predicted 2d for playable zelda is because its a smaller gamble for nintendo - imo, its realistically what we could get. especially at the end of the switch' life cycle AND so soon after totk.

BUT i'm very happy, for a few reasons:

1. it IS mainline zelda. its not called "triforce heroes" or "tingle's rosy rupeeland", its not a peach-style spinoff or side game. its a real zelda game. its called THE LEGEND OF ZELDA: ECHOES OF WISDOM. that alone, giving the mainline zelda brand prestige to this, IS a risk. and its one i super appreciate nintendo taking!!!

2. i disagree that just because it has the links awakening toy-style aesthetic, that automatically makes it a "lesser" or unserious game. links awakening IS a good game! its some peoples favorite! it added interesting lore to the zelda series, its a canon part of the timeline, its mechanically fun, and it has the fun psychological element of analyzing it in terms of links feelings about the dream. like how even the boss monsters are fearful of "dying", begging link not to destroy the island. which of course isn't "real" since its a dream, but its interesting that link would THINK that. also, marin 💔

3. like i said in the prediction post, this could be understood as a testfire for the concept. IF its as successful as any other 2d zelda game (and thats a big if! i already see people calling it more niche or for babies. i hope that doesnt catch on too much and depress hype 😞), maybe nintendo WILL see it as less of a gamble to make zelda the protagonist in a full-on, "serious" 3d title. nintendo is, after all, a business. trying it out with a smaller game makes total sense.

also... it looks like a good game? when a link between worlds was released, everyone thought the wall merging ability was brilliant and a great way to turn 2d zelda into a more unique experience.

this, to me, looks to have similar potential!! the fact that zelda can essentially order enemies to fight for her and use her environment to think of intelligent solutions to any problem is very in-character! it's fitting both for a princess and for the bearer of the triforce of wisdom.

also, its not just building/environment traversal! she does fight!

idk y'all, this looks like a great time to me! i don't know why people would presume its any "lesser" than any other 2d zelda... when we've literally seen another 2d zelda with this exact artstyle. and its an original game!! its not a remake!! :D

[livinginshambles]

Hear me out, please |James Potter

Pairing: James Potter x Slytherin!Fem!Reader

Word Count: 7.5k

Summary: The aftermath of when James found out you were his 'cinderella'. James tries desperately to get your attention to get you to hear him out. A tiny twist.

Notes: Not proofread, grammar mistakes. Timeline might be a little off, but magic so whatever i guess? Sorry for the long wait, I hope you guys will think it was worth it!!

Masterlist Part one Part two

___________________________________

A lot of things went through James' mind as he stood there in the Great Hall. You could hear a pin drop before Regulus finally shot into action and dashed out the hall to go after you.

The murmuring started to continue now that the first silence had been disturbed.

"Oh gosh, she's so dramatic," your sister laughed. And she put a hand on James' shoulder to pull him back to his seat.

James turned his head slowly. His attention zeroed in on the hand on his shoulder. He coiled away.

"What the fuck have you done," he spat at her.

Marla's eyebrows shot up. "We did you a favour," she stated, as if it was the most obvious thing ever.

It sent James over the edge. He grabbed her upper arm and harshly shook it.

"A favour? A favour!?" He asked incredulously. His voice raised in volume. "What on earth is wrong with you!" He screamed and looked around; his eyes blown out. "With all of you!"

"You mean what the hell is wrong with you, James?" Your other sister, Alyssa, piped up. "Why are you defending her?" That last word was spat out with so much disgust that it opened finally James' eyes to what you must have endured. He fought the urge to slap her expression off her face.

James let go of Marla's arm and pushed her a few steps back while doing so.

No, he needed to fix this. He just had to. If you would just listen to him, he would explain it all. And then he'd protect you. From every hurtful comment out there.

If you would just let him.

"Regulus," James grimaced. The boy was blocking his path and view, standing in the doorway. You were out of sight, or at least out of James's sight.

"Potter," Regulus curtly nodded at him.

"I need to talk to her."

"You've said plenty."

James 'brows furrowed, and his jaw flexed. Why was everyone deciding everything for him all of a sudden? Why couldn't everyone just mind their own bloody business? If they had, none of this would have occurred.

He would be patrolling with you in the evening, and you would make him laugh about one of your dry remarks. He wouldn't have known that it was you who he was looking for, but in time, maybe he would've figured it out. Or maybe he would've pushed his mystery girl to the back of his mind to let you and all the new feelings in.

"Actually, I haven't. I haven't said enough because everyone is saying things in my place instead. But I never got the chance to say what I want to say, and every time I do, it seems too late. I just want to talk to her." The words flew out of James' mouth, built up regret, anger, and disappointment from how things had escalated.

"Perhaps you haven't said much." Regulus looked James up and down and weighed his words carefully. "And maybe that's part of the problem. But right now, she's certainly heard enough. She doesn't want your grand words."

James closed his eyes in frustration. He wanted to protest, he wanted to scream at himself and pull his hair out, but ultimately, he just wanted yet another chance.

He hadn't expected it to be you. Not at all, but the longer he thought about it, the more it made sense, and the more it seemed... right. And he didn't know why he had been so adamant to form some sort of relationship with you, but the way his heart blossomed when you were around only pulled him further in.

James looked at the ground, as if the solution to his problems would be written down there.

"Okay," he relented.

Without a moment of hesitation, Regulus went to slam the door in his face but stopped at the box that James held put to him.

"What's that supposed to be?" He flatly asked James.

With a heavy heart, James showed Regulus the pair of glass slippers that you had left behind at the Yule ball, and that he had so carefully carried around with him.

James searched for his words his. "I've been holding on to these to return them to their owner," he made an attempt at a smile but dropped it, feeling pathetic. He wondered if he looked as pathetic to Regulus as well.

"Well, I suppose I should return them, now that I've found her." James pushed the box into Regulus' hands, threw one glance past the boy in hopes to catch a glimpse of you, and rubbed his face with both hands as he dejectedly walked away from the Slytherin dormitory.

Perhaps he could try again later.

You stared at the glass slippers in your hand. It felt cool to the touch and looked so beautiful, but you couldn’t help the bitter taste left in your mouth. With one smooth movement, you threw and smashed one of the slippers against the wall opposite of your bed. It shattered in pieces, and you had to smile at that. Even with every spell to reenforce the glass so you could actually walk on it, it broke. Then you gathered every bit of frustration you had in you, and you screamed as hard as you could, tears flowing in frustration.

You hated that you were crying. But the sheer defeat and powerlessness that you felt was too overwhelming, your voice cracked mid-scream and you threw the other slipper to pieces in anger as well. It wasn’t even about the gossiping amongst the students anymore.

You were so tired; you actually couldn’t bring yourself to care about what everyone must be thinking right now. But your sisters and James. You dug your nails into your palm.

You looked at your reflection in the mirror and straightened your posture. With your hands, you smoothed out your frown, fixed your hair and put on a wide smile. All in all, you looked psychopathic, but anything was better than pathetic. You turned on your heel and got ready for your first morning class.

James watched your empty seat in Divination class. This was the only class in which the last two years were put together. He wondered if you would show up. But he knew you. Possible more than anyone. So, he knew that you would never miss a class, because you wanted perfect grades and a perfect attendance rate. You were just like that. Ambitious.

James mind replayed your words again. He was every worst characteristic of Gryffindor; you had said to him. ‘Arrogant, prideful, and reckless’.

Next to James, Sirius was also lost in thoughts. Your words resonated in his head as well. Prejudice creates a vicious cycle. It was true. Sirius’ eyes flickered towards the other empty seat where Regulus was supposed to be. He had completely abandoned Regulus, giving his brother the cold shoulder, and despising his elitist thoughts, undoubtedly created by his mother. Because he had abandoned Regulus.

Sirius wondered what would have happened if he had tried to maintain a good relationship with Regulus after having been sorted into Gryffindor. He wondered if he would have been able to convince Regulus to run away with him.

There was a knock on the door and Regulus walked in with a blank face. He nodded his head in apology at the Professor and took a seat. The door opened again, this time with a little more force.

“My sincere apologies, professor.” You wore a smile that sent chills up James’ back. His body almost involuntarily shot up to go up to you, but he caught himself, and he longingly looked at you as you passed by instead.

After having gotten used to your discrete gestures of acknowledgement in the form of waves, smiles, nods or even winks, James’ heart tugged when you didn’t spare him a glance. You graciously took a seat and motioned at Professor Trelawney to continue.

James jumped up when class was over. His belongings had long since been packed, and he dashed towards your leaving figure.

“Y/N!” he called out to you.

You turned around and looked him in the eye. All the words that James had prepared during the rest of class escaped his mind. James felt those chills again and he finally understood that in all his years with fights between the two of you, you had been petty, threatening to take points away. You had been angry, throwing insults back at him, and you had very much been a major asshole in general. But you had never been this hostile.

“Let me say this once, so we can all be done with it, and never talk about this again, Potter,” you sharply stated. “I am sorry that I wasn’t who you wanted me to be. However, let me make it clear that this was my secret and mine to share. And I made perfectly clear that I was not going to, so your blatant disrespect to publicly call me out the way you did, is simply appalling.”

Remus called James’ name and James made the mistake to look back. When he turned to you again, you were already further down the hall, turning the corner with a steady pace.

James didn’t see you around anymore until Thursday morning. His eyes basically lit up and he repeated his apology in his head. “L/N, wait,” James tried, and he chased after you. Unlike last time, you didn’t stop. Curious students watched you two pass while James tried to match your pace.

“Hear me out, please.”

“I said all I wanted to say, Potter. Let’s stay out of each other’s way from now on.”

“After you let me explain,” James pleaded.

You laughed. “Nothing you tell me will change my mind. I won’t believe anything that comes out of your mouth.” You gave him an annoyed look.

Still, James was not planning on giving up. You weren’t the only determined one here. He grabbed your arm and dragged you into a room. Your eyes squinted and gave him the dirtiest look they could. James immediately let go of you, hands up in defence, a string of apologies following suit.

You glared at him and went to walk straight out of the room when James pulled you back again, and this time, he cupped the sides of your face, and pressed his lips to yours.

For a moment, you hesitated, utterly confused and surprisingly rather okay with the unwarranted kiss. And then anger hit you. Did he bloody think this would woo you, and sweep you off your feet and make everything alright? How dare he kiss you in attempt to manipulate you. You slapped him across the face in shock less than a second later. James blinked back at you in horror at his own actions.

“Godric, no- I- I am so bloody sorry, I shouldn’t have- I’m- I don’t know what went through my head, please wait-” You slammed the door in his face when you left. James hit his head softly against the door. And then he hit it again but a bit harder as he cursed. “What the hell is wrong with you mate,” he groaned to himself. “You bloody git.”

He stared at the dark wood of the door in front of him reluctantly. To be honest, he wouldn’t mind just staying in the room to rot away, how was he going to face you now?

“Lily, please go in my place,” he begged the redhead. “I’ll take your Tuesday shift, I promise.”

Lily shook her head. “Stop being a baby, James. You reap what you sow and I’m not patrolling tonight.” She walked past James and then turned back around.

“Some friendly advice, James, stop being so pushy. No is no, and it might have been cute as 11-year-olds, but not anymore. We’re no longer kids. But good luck.”

James reluctantly dragged himself towards the Great Hall where he could see you pick your nails in front of the door. He felt ashamed, guilty, and absolutely not ready to look you in the eye.

“Hi,” he awkwardly managed. “So about-“

“You’re late. Let’s get a move on it.” You cut him off.

“Right, yeah, we should do that- patrolling.”

It was quiet, not a word spoken between the two of you as James trailed half a step behind you. He glanced at the side of your face. Shadows and light flickered across your face every time you passed a torch.

The silence of the castle did him good, he realised. He’d much rather walk in silence next to you, than be in the midst of all that chaos that was going on right now. He smiled and stuffed his hands in his pocket happily.

“What are you smiling about,” you asked, a frown on your face.

“Hm? What? Oh, sorry.” The smile dropped of James’ face.

“Well, you don’t have to stop smiling because I said so,” you shot him a strange look. “I just wanted to know what’s so funny.”

“Oh, it’s nothing.” A beat. And then, “Lily told me to stop trying to apologise to you if you don’t want to hear it.”

You considered his words. You supposed you mostly wanted someone to be angry at. You didn’t want to hear James out and then maybe see that your anger was misdirected. You wanted to stay bitter.

“I don’t.”

“Okay, well, I’ll stop.”

“Good.”

Despite the fact that he hadn’t been able to apologise, and nothing had been cleared up between the two of you, both of you felt yourselves relax a little more. You continued to roam the corridors in silence.

The next three patrols were spent in the same basked silence, occasionally one or two words exchanged. James had so many things he wanted to tell you, but he didn’t want to ruin anything. And then you suddenly spoke up again.

“Good luck tomorrow.”

James perked up at your words. “Thank you,” he grinned at you gratefully. “Are you going to watch the game?”

You shook your head. “No, I’ll be helping out in the infirmary.”

“Did you finish your herbal research then?”

Your eyes flickered up at him in surprise. “Yeah, Madame Pomfrey and I will put it to test.” James nodded along.

“Well, if you ever need a patient, I’d volunteer,” he joked. He watched in triumph as you shook your head in amusement.

“Better check your broom for hexes tomorrow,” you replied. “wouldn’t want you to fall off your broom and break a bone or two.” James snorted.

You pulled the curtain to the side with an exasperated expression. “I was only kidding Yesterday, Potter. What on earth are you doing here.”

James gave you a weak smile, trying to hide the pain in his arm and ribs. “Volunteering to be your very first patient, of course.”

“Tell me you didn’t break your bones on purpose,” you squinted your eyes at him.

“I didn’t break my bones on purpose,” James obediently replied. He shifted in curiosity as you rummaged through a cabinet. “Is this not fixable with any spells?” He pondered when he saw you pull out several vials.

“Externally, yes. But you’d be in the same excruciating pain as if they were still broken. You motioned towards the vials. “Hence the herbal potions.”

“Is that the one with the Nettle and Dittany?” James nodded his head to the bottle on the left.

You hummed in approval, not bothering to hide the fact that you were impressed. “Who knows, Potter. Maybe you have a future of a healer as well.” James beamed in pride at your compliment.

“Just keeping my options open.” James sighed happily. He was glad that he could joke around with you again. You tapped a bottle against his cheek. He let you pour the potion into his mouth.

“Now what?”

“Now we wait.” You pulled out a stool and sat down with a notebook in case you needed to take notes of the effects of the potion. At one point, you must have fallen asleep with your face buried on James’ infirmary bed. A strand of hair was tickling your nose and you huffed to get it out of the way. James shifted to tuck it away with his non-injured hand.

You opened your eyes and jumped up. You looked around disoriented and when your eyes landed on James, who had tilted his head, you felt embarrassment creep up on you. “I’m terribly sorry, that was unprofessional of me. Are you feeling any better?”

James nodded. He sat up to prove it, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. “All better. And if you get to apologise, so do I, right?” He looked at you hopefully, internally praying that you wouldn’t just march out straight away. “Will you hear me out?”

You sighed, knowing what would come next, but this time you sat down on the stool again instead of walking away.

“I didn’t know.” When you didn’t respond, he repeated himself. “I didn’t know it was you, and I didn’t know it was going to be published in the newspaper because I wouldn’t do that- you know that I wouldn’t.”

He looked at you and saw you staring back at him. He took it as a sign to continue and cleared his throat. It felt so dry all of a sudden. You quietly reached for a cup of water and handed it to him. James took a sip, a deep breath, and started to ramble on without breaks.

“Sirius found your parchment and then you sisters found it too, but I didn’t. I really didn’t. Sirius said they had already run off and he tried to fix it on his own, so he didn’t tell me, and I only found out right before you did and I would never have written such a mean article about you, because we’re friends- well, at the very least I considered us friends- and I just wanted you to like me because-” James stopped.

“What, you fancy me?” you rhetorically commented. 

James’ heart stopped and his face flushed. “No, of course not! I just- Well, I don’t know- It’s, uh I guess I just,” James tried to form a coherent answer, trying to weigh what answer would scare you away.

You frowned and let your eyes flicker across his face. “Stop it,” you shook your head in denial.

“Would it be so bad?” James murmured. “I didn’t know. But I know I liked the girl behind the paper. And I know I liked my patrol partner.” He hesitated and took a step forward. “I think you liked me too, before you knew my name.”

“Yeah,” you replied. “Before I knew your name. Once I learned it, I no longer did,” you lied. “Because we would never work. Every student said so. All the whispers and comments, insults and rumour were right.”

James shook his head.

“So, date me to spite them. Prove them wrong,” It was a pathetic attempt, but he saw the consideration flash in your eyes, and the more he thought about it, the more he started to get convinced that this was a decent idea.

“You’d have us enter a fake relationship to spite everyone?”

“It wouldn’t be fake to me,” James shrugged, getting more confident by your open attitude. “And who knows, maybe I can convince you that the guy from the paper is still inside of me.”

“This is so stupid,” you shook your head.

“Guess what,” Sirius asked Remus, he covered the page of the book Remus was reading to capture his attention.

Remus slapped Sirius’ hand away. “What,” he replied curtly. Sirius moved to sit on the table of the library. “Are you angry?”

“Mildly annoyed, yes.”

“Because…” Sirius trailed off unsurely. He hoped that Remus would finish the sentence for him, which, luckily for Sirius, Remus did.

“Because I think it’s time you guys stop pestering her. I know you planned to get James in the infirmary. Leave her be, you’ve done enough damage as it is.” He sounded disapproving. Sirius dropped himself back on the table, laying across it as if he was a sacrifice on an altar.

“Prongs likes her.”

“Yeah? Well, he’s handling it terribly,” Remus drily remarked. He took off his glasses and started to wipe them with the hem of his sweater. Sirius patted his pockets, reached into his left one and handed Remus a cleaning cloth for glasses.

“Why are you guys nice to me,” Remus asked quietly.

“What are you talking about Moony, you’re our best friend?”

“I know, but why?” Remus lowered his voice. “I’m a werewolf, aren’t I? I’m a literal monster. So why are you nice to me. But somehow feel the need to keep pranking and bullying Slytherin students? We’re in our last year. Don’t you think we should grow up?” And with ‘we’, he meant ‘Sirius and James’.

‘I know, Moony.”

“Do you now?”

“I think I’m going to talk to Regulus.”

Remus choked on his spit. “I’m sorry, Pads, you’re what?”

“I just don’t want to be like L/N’s siblings. I know I sort of am, but I don’t want to be. And you said we should start being nicer right?”

“Pads, last time you said something to him, he literally hexed you.”

“I insulted him,” Sirius heard himself say and he felt weird for a moment.

“He’s after your ass during every Quidditch game, trying to knock you off your broom.”

“Well, that’s just the point of Quidditch,” Sirius defended again.

Remus smiled at Sirius. “Alright, just be careful. Mid-terms are coming up and I’m too busy with studies to fix you up again.”

Sirius grinned. “If all goes well with Prongs, I could ask L/N to patch me up.” Remus threw a quill at him. “I think I’ll go find L/N later, see if she knows where my brother is.”

The door opened and Remus looked behind him. He did a double take and put his glasses back on to make sure he was seeing things correctly. Sirius was still laying on the table, looking at the ceiling.

“I think I’ve found her,” Remus remarked, uncertainly.

Sirius sat up and gaped at the sight on you and James, walking into the library together while talking. James was holding a pile of books and by the colour of the cover, he knew that those were not James’.

“I’m sorry, did I miss something?”

You looked up in alarm at the words and found Sirius and Remus sitting at a table in the corner. “We talked it out,” you nonchalantly mentioned. Remus gave you a smile and Sirius just stared at you. Then; “Hell yeah, Prongs, I knew you had it in you to confess.” Sirius jumped off the table and patted you on the back with a grin.

You laughed back uncertainly and looked at James with questioning eyes. James looked back at you, reassuringly. He moved all of your books to one hand and guided you to a seat with the other.

“Where’s Regulus,” Sirius asked immediately as soon as you sat down.

You raised your eyebrows. “He’s in the astronomy tower. Didn’t want to join James and I to the library.” You smiled at recollection of the younger Black’s reaction to you and James.

“No way.” He had replied. “What are you two planning?” James had looked at Regulus with an offended look. “What are you talking about? I fancy Y/N and she fancies me, so we decided to make it official.”

“Yeah, I’ll believe you fancy Y/N, but there is just no way she would enter a relationship with you of all people. What’s the deal.”

Sirius nodded. “Well,” he started, “I mean, if he wants to, he uh, the library is a public space, so he could join. If he wants.” Sirius awkwardly sat down on a chair. You squinted your eyes at him. “I’ll be sure to let him know,” you said. You watched as Sirius puffed out a sigh in relief.

You glanced down at the messy scribbles on Sirius’ paper and raised your eyebrows. You’d imagined that the elder Black would have a better handwriting than that. “Anyway, do you need help with Transfiguration as well?”

The news of your relationship spread like fire. Your sisters both received it with a sour look on their faces. “He’ll see we were right, and he’ll leave you again,” they said, purposely loud enough for you to hear it. James had just entered the room and walked straight past them towards you with a flower. He dropped it next to you and sat down beside you.

Against your will, your heart made a small jump and the corners of your mouth tugged upwards. James’ eyes flickered towards your lips and quickly looked away happily. Then he leaned in a little and whispered, “We’re not breaking up if it’s up to me.”

He shifted in his seat, subtly scooting over closer to you. “Go on a date with me tonight,” James whispered.

“We don’t have time tonight. Patrol, remember?” You argued back.

James grinned and shook his head. “Afterwards.”

“It’s past bedtime afterwards. I will not-”

“Sneak around the castle and get caught, I know. But you forget that I have an invisibility cloak.”

You laughed this time. “I’m almost tempted to take 20 points off Gryffindor for your outrageous plan.” Your eyes twinkled and James joined in. He put his hand over his heart in fake shock. “You wouldn’t do that to your boyfriend,” he squinted his eyes, challenging you.

“If he misbehaves,” you answer amusedly. But then you hummed in thought. “Fine, I’ll bite, what do you have in mind.”

James’ grin widened. “The lake’s still frozen,” he whispered. You deadpanned. “I can’t skate.”

James leaned his head against you. “Exactly, it’s the perfect chance for me to show you my gentlemanly skills and woo you.” You turned your head and breathed in the smell of James’ shampoo. "You just want an excuse to hold my hand," you mumbled in his hair. You could feel James smile against your shoulder. “I’m your boyfriend, I don’t need excuses,” he joked.

James swore his heartrate sped up an unhealthy amount when you confirmed, “No you don’t.”

He was absolutely beaming next to you as you were patrolling down the corridor, hand in hand. Your eyes flickered over to James once in a while. It was suspicious to you that he’d been quiet the entire time. James on the other hand was just looking at your intertwined hands with interest.

“Never held hands with a girl before, Potter?” You laughed, but no venom was found in your voice.

James nodded. “Never held hands with a girl before,” he confirmed, not ashamed at all for it. Why should he. You looked at him with curiosity. “What about Lily?”

James snorted. “Have you ever seen us hold hands?”

“Nope,” you popped the ‘p’.

“I was stressing a lot about being a good boyfriend, my hands got really sweaty,” James bashfully explained. You lifted both your hands and squeezed his hand a few times. “You don’t stress about being a good boyfriend for me?” you couldn’t help but ask. You immediately groaned internally and looked straight to the floor, intently watching your feet as they simply fascinatingly put one in front of the other. I mean, have you ever seen something so-. James wasn’t having it.

“’m not stressing with you. I have a pretty good feeling about us.” He sighed contently. You huffed. “Well, I have high standards, and I’ve been told I’m pretty high maintenance, Potter.” You stuck your nose in the air haughtily.

“First, you should stop calling me Potter,” he remarked.

“James,” you nodded. A chill ran up his spine. “And second?” you inquired.

“Second?”

“Second,” you looked at him expectantly.

“Oh! Right, second; I didn’t know you had a relationship before?” And just as soon as those words left his lips, he cussed himself out in his head. Great, now he seemed either a twat as if he couldn’t believe someone like you could have a relationship, or a twat who was jealous and obsessive. And it’s only the first week. James averted his eyes to the wall on his left. Ah yes, the wall seems to be made of stone. Very sturdy, very wall-like-

“No, I’ve been single pretty much my whole life.” You put on your usual sour face, and vaguely gestured to it. “Not very approachable, as I prefer.”

“Then who calls you high maintenance?” James thought bitterly, feeling the need to defend you. “Calm down, prince Charming,” you reassured him with a laugh. Maybe you could see the charm in his recklessness. “I can fight my own battles. And basically, everyone calls me high maintenance.”

The two of you walked side by side in silence again, making your way to the prefect room. You rummaged through a drawer, pulled out a document and started to fill it in. James leaned against the table. “Where do you go during Spring Break? Do you stay at Hogwarts? Because I can also stay at Hogwarts to keep you company, you know.”

“I have my own apartment.”

“You’re not even of age yet,” James pointed out, trying to hide his disappointment unsuccessfully at a missed opportunity of spending time with you.

“Professor McGonagall vouched for me,” you replied. James’ eyebrows flew up. “McGonagall?” He asked in disbelief. You just hummed in reply while you flipped the page to continue filling in the report.

“Well, if you want you can come with me?” You stopped writing and looked up at him intently. As if you were searching his face for any hidden intentions. When you didn’t find any, you gave him an apologetic look.

“That’s kind of you, James,” you smiled. “But I have Regulus staying with me.”

“He doesn’t stay at the Black manor?” James was surprised. You tilted your head. “Tell me, does Sirius stay at the Black manor?”

James quickly shut his mouth as realization dawned on him. Oh.

“Well,” he awkwardly shifted. “You’re both welcome,” he offered. You shook your head in laughing at the mental image. The thought of Regulus and Sirius living together for two weeks was just hilarious.

“I’m done, we can go.”

“Alright, I just need to pick up my invisibility cloak from the Gryffindor common room.”

“I’ll wait here,” you nodded. James offered you a strange look.

“What?” You asked, looking up at him.

“You’re not going with me?”

“What all the way up to the third floor? I think not,” you snorted, plopping down on a chair, and making yourself comfortable.

James huffed and didn’t move. “But what if something happens to me on the way there?” He dramatically sat down next to you on a different chair.

“What on earth could happen to you on the way to your room. This is Hogwarts, you know. The safest place in England probably.”

“What if a monster attacks me, and then I can’t come back, and you’ll think that I stood you up?” James retorted with a pout.

You shook your head and pinched the bridge of you nose. “There are no monsters in this castle, James, where do you think we are? You’re not going to run into a Basilisk on your way.”

James squinted his eyes at you. “But can you promise me that with 100% certainty?” You rolled your eyes in response. “Of course not, but would you take me with you and expose me to such dangers?” you sarcastically retorted.

“Well, technically speaking, and I’m not saying all Slytherins,” James held up his hands at your narrowed eyes. “Snakes are kind of your thing, right?” You closed your eyes. “Charming, you are. Let’s just go,” you sighed.

James grinned in victory as he held the door open for you. “For the record, I would totally protect you from a Basilisk.”

“If you say so.”

Sirius sat up in bed when the door opened, but no one came in. “Hey Prongs, how was ice skating?”

James removed the invisibility cloak to reveal your shivering form. Both of you drenched from head to toe, water still dripping from the locks in front of his eyes. “Got pulled under,” he stressed. “I didn’t know where to take her, I couldn’t let her clean record be tainted for being out past bedtime because of me, and I don’t know the Slytherin password, so I brought her here,” he started to ramble in a loud whisper.

Remus grumbled as he sat up too. “Bloody hell, Prongs, did you take her to the black lake or what?” And when James didn’t respond, “Mate, what is wrong with you.” He got up and walked to the bathroom to get a few dry towels to wrap you in.

James discarded his soaked clothes and dried himself off before putting on pyjamas. Then the three of them stared awkwardly at each other. “Well, she needs to get out of those cold clothes,” Remus remarked. Sirius stepped back. “Yeah, not my girl, not my duty,” he walked over to his bed and dropped down on it.

“Right.”

You woke up and the first thing you noticed was the red colours all around you. You sat up suddenly and blinked a few times. What happened? Oh, right. A hand had broken through the ice, wrapped itself around your ankle and harshly pulled you down into the freezing depths. So that means you’re either dead, or James got you out and brought you to the Gryffindor dorms instead of the infirmary because he kept your clean records in mind. Your heart filled with appreciation at the thought of that.

You looked around and found James on the floor next to you. He was curled up in an extra blanket, but it must be uncomfortable. You went to pull out your wand when you realised that you were wearing his sweater. The little shit changed your clothes, you huffed.

You quietly got up, found your clothes drying in the bathroom and slipped out your wand. With a quick levitation spell, you gently tucked James back into his own bed. Your eyes fell on the two parchments on the nightstand, and you allowed a nostalgic smile to adorn your face. You moved his hair out of the way and let your eyes rest on his peaceful face. Realising you were being creepy, you hastily turned around and snuck out of the room with your clothes and a rolled-up parchment.

“And where have you been,” Regulus sat on the common room armchair in front of the door. He looked like he hadn’t properly slept, and his tone was sharp. “And what atrocity are you wearing. Tell me you didn’t sleep with him?”

“You’re my brother, Regulus, not my mother,” you teased him. You pulled out a chair to sit next to him. “And no, I went skating, fell into the water, blacked out and woke up alive in the Gryffindor dorm. So don’t hex James, if anything you can thank him.”

There was a beat of silence. “I’m glad you’re okay, I was worried.”

“I’m sorry for worrying you. Did you stay up all night?”

“Yes, but mostly because I wanted to tell you something.” You didn’t immediately reply, waiting for Regulus to continue on his own instead.

“Sirius came up to the astronomy tower yesterday evening,” he quietly said. His voice sounded confused, as if he was still unsure of what had actually occurred.

“Are you okay?”

“Of course, I’m okay,” Regulus immediately said. “It’s just that he apologized.” He shrugged. “You think he meant it?”

You thought it over. “I think he did. He asked me last week you know. Where you are, and that if you ever want to join us in the library, you can.” Regulus nodded deep in thought.

“You know, James actually invited both of us over for the Spring Break.” You looked at Regulus to gauge his reaction to that. He looked slightly interested, though he tried to hide it.

“I suppose it’s still a month away, so we’ll see what we want then.”

You nodded and then got up off the chair. “I’m going to change into something else, before my fellow house students want to jinx me,” you said.

“You’re dating James Potter; people already want to jinx you.”

You winked at him. “Well, I’ll be damned, you’re absolutely right. Isn’t that funny? You know what, let them try,” you challenged them as you smoothened James’ sweater.

James woke up and sat up straight in bed, confused. How did he get here? He Looked at the end of his bed and saw it still neatly tucked in- hospital corners. His lips twitched up. You had left, he realised, but you’d tucked him in. He let himself fall back onto his pillow and turned his head to the side. Then he frowned, put on his glasses, and grabbed the parchment. In your lovely handwriting was a message.

Maybe not a Basilisk, but you protected me as you said. Thank you, James. (All things considered, I enjoyed last night.)

James’ eyes traced the words before he carefully placed the parchment under his pillow with a giddy feeling in his heart.

James found you in the library with Remus. His heart skipped a beat when he saw that you were still wearing his sweater. Red looked out of place on you and James absolutely loved it. Sirius shared a look with him and then the both of them decided to sneak up on the two of you, simultaneously stealing your books from under you.

You and Remus narrowed your eyes at the both of them. “I am this close to kicking you guys.” You held up your hand to show your thumb and finger pressed together. James shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “But they’re touching,” he hesitantly responded. Sirius elbowed him in the ribs and quickly handed Remus both your books back.

You sarcastically faked a gasp. “Oh, Merlin, you’re right, they appear to be.”

James cheekily grinned and pressed a kiss to your temple. “You wouldn’t hurt your knight in shining armour,” he bragged, but without any real arrogance laced in his tone. You flipped him off with a grin and pulled out a chair for him next to you. “You’re late,” you airily said.

Sirius suddenly straightened up, his attention fixed on someone behind you. You turned around and waved Regulus over. “Come join us, Reg.”

Three weeks flew by in a blur, but- even though you’ve said this so often now- your were really enjoying your time at Hogwarts again. People’s gossips and predictions about yours and James’ relationship had turned into quiet whispers and envy.

James stood up for you on multiple occasions- after letting you have a go at the imbeciles of course. You had finally gone to a Quidditch game to support James, though of course not when they were playing against Slytherin. You had spent more time in the infirmary and James had joined you a few times by hanging out on one of the empty beds, occasionally handing you an ingredient such as Wolfsbane.

After having established that you absolutely loved hugs, James was always less that a step behind you, ready to give you the affection that you were too proud for to admit you wanted. You had been a frequent visitor to the boys’ dorms as well, making yourself comfortable in James’ arms as you dozed off for a nap. On other nights, you have even managed to persuade Regulus to join a handful of times as well. You wondered what would happen when James would graduate before you, but tried not to think much of it.

“So, we are definitely going to Hogsmeade together this week, right?” James popped up behind you and pressed a kiss to your cheek.

“How scandalous, are you asking me out on a date?”

“Yeah, why? You have a boyfriend or something?” James humoured you.

“Or something,” you joked. The innocent comment hit both you and James at the same time. A reminder that you two were in fact technically not really dating. You shook the thought away.

“I’ll see you at 11 o’clock,” you replied.

James grinned, “I’ll be there five minutes earlier.”

True to his words, he was waiting for you in the courtyard when you arrived on the dot. James offered you his arm and you linked yours through his.

“James?” James hummed in reply. “Does your offer about Spring Break still stand? I mean, I know it’s next week already, and it’s sort of short notice-”

James perked up. “Yes!” he said, a little too quickly and enthusiastic. He cleared his throat and lowered his volume. “Yes, you and Regulus can still come.”

You sighed and nodded in relief. “Right, because Reg and I have been talking and we might take you up on that offer.”

It was evening by the time you and James made your way back to Hogwarts. James had his arm wrapped around your shoulders, and you held his hand. James pressed a kiss to your temple every now and then. “What happened to the glass slippers?” He suddenly asked.

“They broke.”

“They broke?”

“Yep.”

“But didn’t you enchant them?”

“I did, but I was so angry at you that I smashed them to pieces against the wall like over two months ago.”

“Oh… But have you changed your mind since then?” James decided to finally ask you.

“About what?”.

“Me, and us.”

You looked at James and quietly admired him. James kept his eyes straight in front of him, too scared to look at you and see your reaction.

“Well, we are walking together, coming back from Hogsmeade. There’s not a student in sight and yet we are still holding hands,” You light-heartedly replied with a teasing smile. You squeezed his hand for good measure. It seemed enough to make James look at you.

“I’d say we’re pretty good friends-”

“I’m in love with you.”

You froze in your tracks and let go of James’ hand. Well, that took you by surprise. Fancying someone and claiming to be in love with someone- not loving but being in love- that was a next level. You smiled amusedly, successfully hiding your insecurities. “James, you’re not in love with me.”

James frowned at your response. He’d accept your rejection, but not you doubting his feelings.

“Yes, I am,” he stubbornly responded.

“No, you’re not,” you retorted, equally stubborn.

“Am too.”

“You’re not, James,” you exasperatedly said. “You’re not in love, you just fancy me because you’re comfortable.” You shrugged awkwardly. "And you only feel comfortable with me because I know so much about you. Because you poured your heart out to a stranger, and it so happened to be me.”

James bit his cheek, considering your words. Then he grinned and nodded. Your heart dropped, but not as much as it could have, because you had already prepared yourself for this. The joy behind setting yourself up for disappointment by never letting yourself get your hopes up.

“Yeah, I’m really comfortable with you.” He agreed. “Isn’t that great? Isn’t that love too? Being comfortable to the point you don’t feel the need to keep secrets anymore, where you feel the most accepted? The most at ease?”

You stared at James then cleared your throat. “So, when did you start being all knowledgeable and romantic?”

James snorted. You were adorable when you were awkward. “I’m the most comfortable with you,” he earnestly confessed to you. He carefully, as if to not scare you away, put a step forward and reached for your hand. He squeezed it softly. I mean it.

James felt you pull your hand back and bit his lip, forcing it to curl up into an accepting smile. “Right,” he cleared his throat as he tried to form a reply. But you weren’t done yet. You pulled back your hand and then threw both your arms around James’ neck as your brought him in a tight hug. You dipped your head down into the crook of his neck.

“And I’m the most vulnerable with you,” you mumbled against his skin. James sighed in relief, happiness, and love. He wrapped his arms around you protectively, as if to shield you in response.

You tilted your head sideways as you looked at James who was in front of you, down on one knee in your garden. James looked beautiful. His cheeks were slightly coloured from the cold and his hands held a small box with a ring.

“Love?” He asked, waving his hand in front of you, trying to get your attention. He didn’t sound nervous at all, in fact, he felt the most relaxed he’d ever been. This was definitely the future he’d imagined when he’d watched you laugh with his dad while bringing in the groceries. “My knee is getting numb from the cold, love. So, if you could just say yes or no,” he cheekily grinned.

You hummed in thought and then you replied, “Well, isn’t marriage a little too soon?” Your grin widened and spread across your face. “I mean, you’ve yet to officially ask me to be your real girlfriend.”

“Wait what-”

The end :)

Taglist:

@elsie-bells @charlie-weasley-is-underrated @dreamingofmarauders @moonyslibrary98 @wildernessflora @hollandweather @queerqueenlynn @locklyebrainrot @thisrandombitch @grac3aph3lion @earfquak3 @venomsvl @shrekscrustybudassy @middle-of-the-earth @sirene-noir @littlepoisonmushroom @faumpje @iloveutwice @katelebate @moonysupremacy01 @marina468 @fangirl-kimora @bellesowl @badasswlthafatass @sjprongs @armydrcamers @its-a-ittle-bit-cold @ireallywannasleep127 @sakuyoi @jsjcue @cashtons-wife @idllyastuff @severegiantjudgefriend @ivy-34 @moonyunebi @caspianobsessed @kquil @moonys-luvr @mindflay3r @magpiesworld @my-beloved-fandoms @papichulo120627 @nokkoongie @sbrewer21 @helloitsmeeeeeee @clumsyassbitch @lovelyteenagebeard @joeytribbiani18 @littlemisslovestoread @princesskittycatofmeowland

[evieelyzabethh]

Warmer than a Comforter

pairing(s): Spike x fem!reader

summary: it wasn't unusual for Spike to 'break' into your apartment, but it was unusual for him to want to spend the night.

warnings: very long (4.4k words), spike being a simp, one bed trope, dry humping, thigh fucking, masturbation, some fingering, slight praise, Spike being Spike, a smidge of possessiveness, and thats about it

It was no secret to anyone your favorite time of day was long after the sun went down. A full-time college student who worked a part time job on top of that was no easy feat. Your time during the day was never your time, it was your shitty professors time who assigned reading after reading that needed to be read for the never-ending stream of papers and theses, it belonged to your shitty boss who piled on tons of paperwork and demanded you be at his beck and call even after you clocked out. As much as you loved them, your time off belonged to your friends; patrolling, looking through dusty-old books, trying not to die every time you stepped out of your apartment.

When you got home (if there was no patrolling to be done), it was your time and while you were tired, you made time for your nightly routine. You'd slip off your shoes and walk in the dark to make it to your room to turn on your lamp, because you'd be damned if you were turning on one of the big lights this late.

You would usually strip down and dig a pair of pajamas out of your drawers before taking a scalding shower. You'd brush your teeth and wash your face, maybe if you had the energy, you'd do a face mask and paint your nails. You'd turn on your stereo or switch on your TV to fall asleep to the fuzzy sound and soft light. This, of course, is what you'd be doing right now had you not walked into your house with company.

You could see him lounging on your bed, the darkness of his attire somehow darker than your unlit room. His duster slung on the back of your desk chair, only clothed in some tight navy shirt and jeans.

"What are you doing here, Spike?" You crossed your arms over your chest, annoyed when you realized he had his dirty ass boots on your bed.

"M' paying my favorite Scooby a visit." You walked over to turn on your lamp, giving you enough light to see how smug he was. His arms sat behind his head, his eyes glittering with amusement. He was doing this to annoy you. He did most things just to annoy you.

"Pay another Scooby a visit." You were dead tired, practically forcing your eyes open. You had just gotten back from work, your bag still in your hand which you used to knock his legs off your bed. He could've been stubborn, but he let you.

You stripped off your hoodie, flashing him your stomach as your undershirt rose with the movement. He whistled, "Scandalous."

"Get out of my apartment." You tossed your hoodie at him while rolling your eyes. He caught it midair, bringing it to his nose to sniff it.

"Smells different. You using a different bodywash?" You hummed as you walked around your room to find something suitable to wear to bed. It was dreadfully hot out, even worse than what you'd expect from a California summer. You had at least 3 fans going anytime you were here, especially since your landlord could never seem to find a permanent solution to the junky A.C unit.

"Midnight Rose. Real fancy stuff." You hadn't even noticed a difference, but of course Spike would. Vampire senses had a way of being intrusive in a way that was only helpful when it came to your cycle and saving you bed sheets.

"I like the other one better: the cocoa butter one. It was fainter. You smelt more like you." You scoffed.

"Duly noted." Your hands roamed over the old t-shirts from high school and camisole tops so old the straps had snapped on a couple of them.

Spike sat up on your bed, untying the laces on his shoes haphazardly before setting them by your bedroom door. He roamed around like you had been, picking up bottles of nail polish and flipping through one of the books on your shelf.

"You could spare me a bit of your attention, love. I mean I did go through the trouble of-"

"Breaking into my apartment?" You interrupted.

"On second thought, it was a bit easy. I pushed it a bit and the window came right out. Are you leaving it open for somebody?" His tone was supposed to sound much more teasing than it did. There was a pang in his chest, probably of jealousy. Much to his chagrin, he was jealous a lot these days and he couldn't quite tell if his frequent visits were enabling that or the very cause of it. Either way, it was hard not to just crawl through your window anytime he pleased.

You acted like you were annoyed and if he had a dollar for every time you threatened to call Buffy on him, he wouldn't need to dumpster dive for furniture. If he had another dollar for every time, you never followed through, he'd be even richer. You said it's because you could handle yourself without her help, but, admittedly, you didn't hate his company that much.

As far as house guests go, it could be worse. It's not like he eats all your food, talks your ears off, or is unfunny. He was just there. A pain in your ass sometimes, like when he insists on being half a step behind you during patrols and never fails to tell you how great your ass looks from behind. Never a malevolent presence, just annoyingly noticeable.

His boots were clunky, and he smelled of faint cigarettes and alcohol. He also hated silence. He was fidgety and anxious, even if his intentions were stealth, he couldn't help but break the tension and open his mouth. At times against his will, he just wanted to be noticed that bad. He just needed to be around you that bad.

"I keep telling the landlord to fix it, but he insists it's just fine. 'Nothin' some glue won't fix'." But you had tried gluing it. Had it not been for the clear shit jammed in the lock, the window would've just come right open with the flick of a finger.

"I could fix it for you." He went ignored while you had made your way to your bathroom, taking your hair down from the claw clip it had been stuck in for the past few hours. A slight moan of relief slipped through your lips as your fingers carded through it to massage your scalp.

"You know how to fix windows?"

"Well...no. But it can't be that hard. I've been around a few hundred years, surely I can figure out how to fix a bloody window." What he meant to say (if he had the balls) was that he would be more than happy to learn how to fix a window for you. It would give him an excuse to hang around, it would keep him in your good graces for a solid month, and he wouldn't have to break an entering anymore. Granted, his preferred place of entry had long been broken and he could always come through the front door, but it was a matter of principle.

You looked him up and down, trying to decipher if this was a set up for a joke or if he was actually serious, but he kept his head down. He hadn't been able to blush since he was a human, but the habit had a way of rearing its head for you.

He was so pretty too. With his high cheekbones and the way the warm light made his complexion look less ghastly. As ironic and cliche as it would be to say, he looked slightly angelic. Like one who fell from Heaven and donned the dark and mysterious charade to make it hurt less. He would burn away under a cross just to make it back to Heaven. Nearly break his spine falling out of windows and bleed out taking stabs if it meant he was closer to your doors. If there was one thing Spike did well, it was devotion.

"You wouldn't even know where to start. I'll just call Xander or something."

"What're you gonna do that for!"

"Because, Spike," you laughed incredulously, confused as to if this was going to become an argument or form a chip on his shoulder. "If I want something fixed, I'm going to call someone who does it for a living."

"But would Xander do it for free?"

"Would you?"

"I wouldn't charge anything of monetary value." You snorted, not surprised at all with his answer.

"You are such a whore, you know that?"

"What can I say, baby?" He leaned against the door frame of your bathroom, where you stood staring at your reflection in the mirror. He was happy that his nonexistent reflection could betray him. He was grateful to be a part of this routine - your routine- in a way that didn't disrupt your peace. It was soft. Almost domestic.

You were so meticulous about the way you scrubbed your face and brushed your teeth. He liked how when you took off your makeup the glitter remained. You sparkled at the right angles, really fucking sparkled. Of course, he was going to sit and stare at you; mascara still not completely wiped away, hair tied back with a fuzzy headband, lips agitated from being bit throughout the day. It was poetic. Second nature to him. He didn't need to breath, but it came to him then, overwhelming and filling his lungs like water until he was full as he stared at you in the mirror with not even his own reflection to judge him.

"I'm gonna hop in the shower."

"How rude, without me?" Damn, he sounded like a bloody idiot. You only looked him up and down, trying to appear deeply disgusted but stopped just shy of mildly annoyed.

"Get out of my apartment before I stake you." You slammed the bathroom door in his face, hiding your blush behind the wood.

"That's not a no." His voice is muffled behind the door, and as much as you'd like to believe he didn't hear it, you did laugh.

***********************************************************

Spike had to have been a cat in a previous life, is what you decided when you found him still on your bed, nose in some magazine he found pretending to care about the newest Natasha Denona palette.

"That crypt must be uncomfortable as hell for you to still be here." You skated around your room to sink beside him. He reaches across his side to pull out a bottle of water and hands it to you.

"Your showers are hot as hell; I'm surprised you didn't pass out in there." He flips through the pages nonchalantly, pretending not to be incredibly fixated at the water dripping from the nape of your neck and disappearing into your shirt.

"You would've loved that, wouldn't you? Getting to play 'knight and shining armor' while I'm conveniently naked." The sound waxy pages being torn was a surprise. So much of you and his banter was contingent on the assumption that neither of you meant anything serious so nothing would become anything.

Spike, who spent most of his mortal adult life swallowing his feelings until his stomach became an endless chasm where his feelings went to fester rather than die, was more than okay with this unspoken arrangement. Sarcasm was a second language to you. You were used to your words not mattering, especially since in your group of friends, your existence seemed to matter far less than everyone else's. You wondered if that was why you and Spike got along so well.

He just got you. Maybe a side effect of him being around you whenever he could. He just got you. In a stupid way. In an annoying way. The kind of way that made you worried that reading minds was also one of his vampiric powers. He wormed his stupid way into your brain, slithering around in his own sort of Spike way til you didn't know where his influence began.

He did sort of have this hypnotic way of speech. Maybe because he was a poet. Poets have to have some sort of hypnotic power, right? Surely, there was some connection between rhythms and brain waves that made the effect of Spike's voice so persuasive. Maybe it's not the rhythm and it's just the honesty. Ironic, since the basis of your "relationship" was built on never assuming that the other meant what they said, but who cares. It gave you guys flavor. Something to keep things interesting.

"I'll have you know; I am a very old-fashioned guy with manners." You snorted as his response. He talked about his "old-fashioned" ways a lot. Maybe to convince you that he was a gentleman. Gentleman your ass, you'd seen what he kept in his crypt.

"My deepest apologies for assuming that a guy that used railroad spikes as a murder weapon of choice wouldn't be above jumping at the opportunity to see me naked."

"Am I that transparent?"

"When it comes to mirrors, yeah." His scoff was lost in the sound of a car horn going off across the street. Damn, you needed a new place. He had complained to you about the noise before. If you didn't leave near a busy street, he would try his luck spending the night far more than he already did. Each blare deepened the scowl on his face as he flinched at the sound, even louder from where he sat in front of it.

"Those death buggies have to be the worst thing to come out of the 20th century. So obnoxious, and for what?"

"I imagine they are more convenient than horse drawn carriages."

"Yeah, more convenient and not even half the charm." He turned his head to gaze out the window. "It's not even a nice car! I'd rather ride around in the fucking Angel Mobile than drive around in that thing."

"You are so dramatic. Usually I just," you swing your leg over his waist, straddling and reaching over to close the window. He swallowed hard at the feeling of your chest pressing against the magazine, the only boundary between him and you, and the nonchalance of the action. "Shut the window." You felt him tense beneath you, his right hand awkwardly meeting your hip, blue eyes staring up at you through dark eyelashes. "Then again, I'm not a pansy who needs complete silence to sleep."

He cleared his throat before he spoke. "I sleep in a cemetery, love, ain't much noise around those parts." His eyes wandered everywhere they could but the worst part about beautiful people is that there is no unsightly place to avert your gaze. He couldn't stare at your gorgeous eyes, or your stunning nose, or your lips to distract himself from the steadily growing boner that you were sitting right on top of. You were no better than he was.

Within the context of the unspoken agreement, this meant absolutely nothing. The boner was just a normal reaction, that didn't have to mean anything. The way he was looking at you was a bit hard to ignore, but that was the way he always looked at you. He was a lot closer right now, sure, but that stupid lovesick look that you have spent years trying to ignore, totally just a joke. Not real at all. A trick of the light, in fact. The hard-on was very real though.

After sitting there for a few seconds too long, you shift your weight to move back to your side of the bed, but his hands keep you in your place. " 'm cold", he mutters, his thumb rubbing circles between where your shorts meet your bare skin.

"Yeah?" You feel him pressing up against your core. "I didn't think you could get cold."

" Me either but-", you lowered yourself completely on his clothed dick and the groan he let out was salacious. "Here we are." The frigid way he moved made his lie believable. Incredibly cautious, hesitant. No idea what to do with himself. He ran his hands along your thighs, up and down your side, one cold hand sliding underneath your shirt, rubbing the hem of it between his pointer finger and his thumb.

You leaned forward, warm breath fanning against his nose. It smelled like mint. You smelled like some sort of cocoa butter. Smooth and soft on top of him and he didn't know if you were going to roll right off or melt into his skin. Your hands come to the sides of his face, and you stare intently at him. He felt like he was under a microscope with the way you looked at him like you were committing each detail of him to memory so that even when you closed his eyes, it was still him burning in the forefront of your mind.

"You gonna kiss me?" You whispered, pressing yourself further into him. He let out a breathy laugh.

"What, a guy's always gotta make the first move?" With that, you leaned down to give him what was meant to be a quick peck. A tester. A tease. But when you give Spike an inch, he takes a mile, and he took the opportunity to devour you. Mouth open, sloppy, wet kisses while his hands worked as eagerly as his tongue did. You were a calming presence, slow and sane as you grabbed fistfuls of his shirt to try and ground the both of you.

Breathing through your nose, you inhaled him. The faint smell of smoke, the fresh smell of whatever he washed the gel from his hair with, the distinctly Spike musk. Your thighs wrapped him more closely, subtly grinding into his lap, ignoring the slight burn on your knees from the friction between them and your sheets. His large hands covered swathes of skin, cooling you where you grew too hot from his touch. When he had his fill, he broke away from you, still nose to nose, a string of saliva still between the two of you.

"Do you wanna spend the night?" Your voice was somehow meek as if there was any way in hell he would say no to you. He breathed out, turning his head into the crook of your neck, leaving searing kisses on your silky skin, worshipping at his altar, and thanking who or whatever got him here tonight. He kisses you from your neck, along your jawline, to the corner of your lips.

"Yes", he whispers against your skin. He bucks his hips into you, the imprint of his cock and the rough material of his jeans kissing your pussy through the thin layers of material. You nearly choke on his tongue at the feeling. Fuck.

Your eyes are closed, hips moving furiously against his, too blissed out to even care about the steadily growing wet patch in your underwear. You're lost in kisses, kisses that overwhelm and confuse and steal your breath until you wonder how much you need to breathe anyway. Along with not needing to breathe, you learned they must have incredible resolve. He chases you. Not like how a wolf chases a lamb but how the sun chases the moon.

He pulls and you push for breath, some sort of reprieve, some time for your mind to catch up with your body because right now everything but the way the seams of his jeans catch your clit is one of the only things on your mind. He pulls you, still, his hands squeezing at your waist, moving up to cup your breasts, thumbing at your nipples, and flicking the already hard peaks. And you push, still, not in protest but in harmony. Your hips pressing down, his jerking up. Your hands tugging his hair, his squeezing your waist. It was good. It was so good.

"What is the point", he starts breathlessly, "of these damn shorts if they're so thin. You're leaking right through, love." He smiles against you, sharp teeth grazing against your cheek as he smirks.

"Take 'em off me then." For once in his life, he takes his time. The desperation of his prior movements forgotten as he looks at you as he trails a finger from your chest down between the valley of your breasts, to your navel. He draws invisible shapes along your stomach, diamonds, hearts, and letters spelling m-i-n-e. And he stalls there. Looking from beneath you, smug as you ground yourself onto his dick in an attempt to move him along.

He was amused. Fascinated. You in your own world, mewling, moaning, putting on a show just for him. Choosing to ignore how sticky your panties had gotten, how much they stuck to your cunt as you wiggled your hips as if you could get any closer. Your tits moving with you, the way your mouth was slightly agape, the way you keened when you rubbed against him just right. It was no motivation for him to move his hands at all, not when it was much more rewarding to angle his hips up and make you see stars. "You gonna cum like this?" He crooned, full of fake sympathy.

"You're really gonna make me get myself off." You rolled your eyes, maybe out of pleasure, maybe out of faux annoyance. Either way, his hand slithered to the waistband of your shorts and dipped even deeper. He left feather-light touches on your clit which sent jolts of electricity up your spine. Overcome with the tightening feeling in your belly, your hands grabbed at his shoulders as your hips worked and worked you snapped. Impossibly wet and dazed, you rocked into him until the high had passed and the stars had left from behind your eyelids leaving only Spike.

His fingers still, in your panties, he moves to slide them and your shorts off your body. You hover slightly, still too sensitive to rub your bare pussy against him. You fidget with the button of his jeans and zipper, Spike's hands coming to cover yours to ease the shakiness. Maybe to give the appearance that he was much calmer than he was. He was painfully hard, and you felt it when you palmed him through his boxers after getting his pants down enough. Where his tip sat was a wet spot. You smirked.

"Did I get your dick that wet?" A shiver went down his spine. The heat from your palm was felt through his boxers. Your hand was barely big enough to cover it. Before either of you was prepared for it, he flipped you on your back. His hands sat on either side of your head while yours removed him from his boxers. He was so big.

You tore your gaze away from his cock to meet his gaze. He still looked at you the same. Pupils widened from lust, cheeks with a slightly pink tinge, lips puffy, eyes looking down at you with the same look they always had. It's then he leans down to kiss you for the millionth time. No urgency, less messy, a kiss like he was trying to wake you from a thousand-year slumber.

Your hand still on his cock, you pumped it a few times, swiping your thumb against his tip to lubricate his dick. He groaned into your mouth, humming in pleasure. You try to line him up to sink in your hole, but he slaps you on the wrist. "Don't want your cunt tonight," he mumbled in between kisses, "Jus' let me feel you."

He pumped his cock a few times before slotting it in between the meat of your thighs. The veins and ridges of his dick would occasionally slide between your folds, but that wasn't the focus. No matter how much you wiggled for him to plant his cock so far deep it kissed your cervix, you were ignored as he squeezed your thighs together, panting as he fucked them.

The juxtaposition made your head dizzy. The softness with which he kissed you and the fervor of his dick between your thighs, them getting wetter with the accumulation of precum leaking from his dick. It only forced him to press harder, leaving handprints from how hard he gripped. "Such a pretty thing, aren't you." He sighed out, his pace still even but his breaths far from it. "Go ahead and touch that pretty cunt f' me."

As much as your brain wasn't working, it wasn't needed to do what you were told. Bleary-headed, your hand traveled from the outside of your leg to between your folds. Still wet from your previous orgasm, it didn't take much to just slip a couple fingers in, moaning as you did. One hand toyed with your tit as the other toyed with your clit, your hips wanting to buck into your hand had it not been for Spike's palm on your stomach.

Had he had the composure, he would have made some sarcastic comment. Slow down, love, what's the rush, is what he would've said had his thrusts not been as sloppy as they were. He pulled away from your lips to see the mess he was making. White beads pooled on the skin of your stomach, dripping down your thighs like liquid pearls. And you. Low warm light bouncing off your skin, lip tucked in your teeth, staring right up at him. It took all of him not to cum at the sight.

Not before you did, he decided, which by the way your moans pitched up wasn't that far away. Each "accidental" slide into you was met with a jerk of your hips. "Stop it", you squealed, the bucking of your hips screaming otherwise.

"Feels too good, doesn't it." Then he did it again. His large hand drifts around before grabbing your abandoned tit, groping it until you hit your limit again. Your chest heaved unevenly as you tried to catch your breath as Spike's hips sped up, stuttered, then stopped as his cum splashed on your stomach and breasts.

Spent and not knowing what to do, he kisses you again. He smiles into it, and to his surprise, you do too. Like it was the only thing that made sense to do. The fuzz gradually fades from your mind, the noise from the multiple fans running and the faint humming of electricity apparent again. There's a breeze coming in from your window and you giggle.

"Are you still cold?"

[mynamesaplant]

Forgiveness is Electric

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

Just a little short story about @critterbitter's hc of Emmet, Ingo, and Elesa. This is between the Volume Control and Volume Control (Reprise). Just a tiny change, Emmet caught Tynamo bc I sort of forgot when he did... My bad. Please go take a look at Critter's work, it is beautiful in every sense of the word.

I lied about posting to AO3 last time with Yearning for Wood Floors, but I will update that soon along with this one.

Enjoy!~

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

“I do not think she will like those.”

“Who doesn’t love sweets?”

Ingo argued, plucking a box of Snom-Caps and turning it over and over in his hands. He contemplated the choices of candy in the aisle, the teenage clerk puffing their long, purple-streaked hair from their eyes behind the counter as the two children agonized over their decision. The clerk, Dakota, saw Ingo and Emmet in here all the time, the former had something of a sweet tooth and the latter… Well, whatever the opposite of a sweet tooth was, that was Emmet. The kid just loved sour things.

It wasn’t unusual to see them, but it didn’t usually take this long for them to make their selection. They had been there for nearly fifteen minutes, painstakingly reading each and every label and discussing them in hushed undertones. That was unusual by itself. Ingo was not known for his volume control.

Although unusual, they weren’t worried about them doing anything shady like stealing or being careless and knock things off the shelf. Might as well let them go about their business. To pass the time, they watched the fretful newly acquired Tynamo circle around them faster and faster until Emmet snatched the Pokémon deftly from the air and soothingly stroked its back.

“I am Emmet. We do not know what she likes.”

“We must do something! I just feel so dreadful.”

Emmet could see Ingo working himself up over this, just as he had a few hours ago, and Emmet placed a reassuring hand on his brother’s arm. His smile and eyes softened as his twin turned to him, Ingo’s eyes glittering with emotion and whatever proclamation dying on the back of his tongue.

He hadn’t meant it. He really hadn’t. He always got too loud when he was excited.

It had just backfired on him horribly.

Ingo cringed even now as he remembered the tears in her eyes, her hands slapped over her ears, and eyes huge with confusion and pain. She had run off before he could even apologize, and that knowledge was eating him alive all day.

Candy wouldn’t fix this. In his heart of hearts, he knew that, and maybe he had come here to grab himself some of his favorite snacks to ease the pain of losing a potential friend.

It was hard for them to understand others. Emmet and Ingo were so in-sync with each other that everyone seemed to be moving so much slower by comparison. It was like playing charades with someone who was underwater, the twins made perfect sense to one another, but it was unclear to everyone else.

This was not new to them, but it didn’t make it any less frustrating.

With their moms being busy with work and their uncle who didn’t have much interest with them most times, Emmet and Ingo came to rely on each other almost exclusively. Drayden would give them a little bit of pocket change, but never much. They had to be ultraconservative with what he gave them and had taken it upon themselves to run around Anville Town to take little odd jobs.

Leaves to rake? Oran berries to pick? Snow to shovel?

Emmet and Ingo did it all and saved what they could. They barely scraped together the money to purchase the Pokéballs needed to catch Tynamo and for additional balls to try and catch Ingo a starter.

Even though they knew everyone, they weren’t really close to anyone in town.

That could have been different if Ingo hadn’t ruined everything!

“Perhaps sweets are not the solution…”

Ingo finally admitted, setting the box down and rising to his feet. Readjusting his cap on his head and dusting off his knees to unconsciously tidy his appearance, Ingo’s frown deepened in thought. Even if he and Emmet apologized to her, Miss Elesa would not understand them. Drat! If only he had remembered her hearing aids, he had completely forgotten them tucked behind her black hair.

Emmet watched his face scrunch up, clearly having a long inner dialogue with himself where he alternatively berated himself and told himself that there was no crying over spilled milk. Gray eyes scanning the shelf, he took a bag of sour gummy-Bewear for himself, and chocolate covered pretzels for his brother, before hauling them to the counter where Dakota waited.

Tynamo drifted just below his elbow, still quite nervous around new people and often retreating to its ball when too anxious. Emmet’s soft encouragement was the only thing keeping the EleFish out while Dakota rang up both bags.

“Tynamo? Good for you, kiddo. I hear they’re not easy to catch.”

They rested their elbows on the counter, chin resting atop with a kind smile to the quieter twin. Dakota could see him beaming with pride, but he merely nodded, shuffling on the spot while he fished in the pocket of his overalls for some money. His Tynamo, like its trainer, seemed a little bashful at their words, and retreated into its ball.

“200… I think you brother is comatose over there.”

Dakota said not unkindly. Emmet jerked his head to where his brother stood motionless in front of the candy.

“Ingo!”

It was Ingo’s turn to jerk out of his, as Dakota had put it, “comatose state”. He trotted over to his side, staring at the bags of candies with confusion before it all seemed to click into place.

“You did not have to spend your pocket money on me.”

Emmet’s smile softened at the bashful note in his sibling’s voice. He wanted to. Ingo was feeling down, his twin often overthinking problems and burning himself out in the process. Emmet liked to take a step back to listen and reflect on people and conversations. A little break would do Ingo some good, so he insisted on the treats.

“I am Emmet. I wanted to. Yup!”

While Dakota bagged their treats in a small brown paper bag, they couldn’t help but lean over the counter to examine them. Although many people didn’t understand the secret code that the twins exchanged between glances, mouth twitches, and hand movements, Dakota could tell something was awry. Withholding the bag, they leaned over the counter with a faintly curious expression and a light tone.

“You guys alright?”

Unsurprisingly, the two exchanged looks, and a wordless conversation was held between them while Dakota waited. It was Ingo who swiveled his head back to face them, his face knit into a calculating grimace that seemed a little less friendly than usual, but only marginally.

“Yes,” he said slowly, eyes not breaking with the clerk, but they could see him shifting uncomfortably. “Emmet and I are attempting to right a wrong. However, we are encountering several roadblocks.”

There is a pause. Dakota still held the bag just out of reach as they gnawed on their lower lip. This wasn’t really their business, and they weren’t the type to stick their nose in where it didn’t belong… They thought of Drayden, who spent a lot of time in Opelucid and not watching his nephews – he barely spent any time with them.

They’re just kids.

“Do you need some help? It’s my job to help customers in the store y’know.”

Another pause. Another exchange of glances.

“I-” Ingo tries to being, already hard pressed to say anything and even less so when his sibling elbowed him in the ribs and shot him a look. He wouldn’t be allowed to take all the blame. “We upset one of our classmates with our carelessness. We think she was attempting to befriend us, but- uh… there were a few errors on our part.”

“And you’re trying to get candy for her to forgive you?”

“We thought about it, but it grew too complicated. We do not know what candy she likes, but more importantly, we do not think it’s a suitable apology.”

The clerk nodded, tapping the counter in thought as they tried to piece together some genuine advice for the boys.

“I think it’s a nice peace offering, but I think an apology would be better.”

“We broke her hearing aids… Yep…”

Emmet croaked suddenly, shrinking back in shame at the same time that Ingo grabbed the brim of his hat to tug it lower over his eyes.

“Ah,” Dakota hummed, tapping the counter even faster. They meant the new family that moved in from Sinnoh. They remembered their dads talking about the new signs that had to go all over town for the girl’s safety. Dakota couldn’t remember her name. “How did you break them?” They asked, already knowing the answer.

“Volume control.”

Ingo cringed, remembering his uncle’s warning about his naturally loud voice. Inside voice, Drayden had been emphasizing, and Ingo was trying to take those words to heart, but it was difficult. Since Ingo’s face didn’t emote well, he relied on his voice and his movement to articulate his emotions to others. They nod sympathetically.

“You didn’t see them?”

“No…”

The boy was squirming now, his shame and embarrassment with the situation reaching an all-time high. He felt Emmet moving to his side, reassuringly pressing against his arm, and resting his head on his twin’s shoulder. A flood of comfort helped Ingo release a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding.

Behind the counter, the clerk was rummaging through something – although tall for their age, Emmet and Ingo couldn’t see what they were doing. They heaved a box onto the counter, tipping it so the contents spilled out for them to see, and the boys were confused.

“Headphones?”

Emmet leaned forward on his tiptoes to look at the colorful array of boxes that ranged from normal headphones to ones that had Pikachu and Eevee ears topping them.

“Yeah, uh, maybe if she wears these, you’ll remember right away that she has headphones in.”

It was a half-baked idea. In truth, Dakota felt a bit sheepish about it now that the idea was out of their head, but when they looked up, the boys were beaming – well, Emmet beamed. Ingo reminded of them of their friend’s Purrloin in a way they couldn’t quite put their finger on.

“Bravo! What a marvelous suggestion!”

Ingo practically cheered, stepping beside Emmet to look through the headphones. It was probably going to cost them a bit from the tags on the boxes, but it would be worth it. The headphones would immediately remind Ingo that she had hearing aids in so he would be more inclined to get Miss Elesa’s attention in a different fashion, but it also might do the same for others who were unaware of her deafness.

“Sure – er, thank you…” Dakota was looking at the prices now and mentally smacked their forehead. They probably couldn’t afford the headphones. “I’ll-” They hesitate. It almost pained them to say what they were going to next. “I’ll pay for them so you can take them to her now.” The twins’ eyes went wide, both about to protest when Dakota interrupted, “In exchange, you can do a few chores for me at my place. I need to do some yardwork, but it always gives me hay fever. Sound like a deal?”

The answer was easy for them. Dakota told them to pick ones that they thought Miss Elesa would like.

“I think these ones are quite dashing.”

Ingo said, picking up the box with the Pikachu ears. Emmet pursed his lips and shook his head.

“Nope. Too big. Not a gamer girl.”

They continued to rummage through the boxes. They agreed that she must like Electric types. She had a Blitzle as her partner after all.

“I cannot recall, she is from Hoenn, correct?”

Emmet shrugged, unsure himself because they had both been looking through a magazine with an expose on the newest train lines running out of Nimbasa when she had been introduced. That just meant to them that, when the time came, going on their Pokémon journey by rail would be all the easier.

“Not sure.” He looked at the box Ingo had in his hand and his smile broadened, nodding in agreement to his brother’s unasked query. The perfect balance of subtle but stylish. “I am Emmet. Those are perfect.”

Plusle and Minun headphones.

[johnbrand]

Being Proactive

“Hey princess, how about you go grab me a beer while we wait for everyone else to arrive.”

“Sure thing, Mario!” 

I ran inside as fast as I could, trying my best to hold back the smile that was threatening to escape. I could not believe how easily my plan was working. Ever since I caught that twisted, hungry bottom flirting with my boyfriend, I knew I had to take action. It was just fascinating how simple it all had been. 

My boyfriend was a solid-but-sensitive type, big and muscular but soft, which sometimes worked against him. He had not even noticed when Mario had batted his pretty eyelashes for him, or when the bottom pouted with a sickly sweet: “We should hang out more, I’m sure I’d make it worth your time.” But I had known the signs however, and I planned to be proactive. A simple search on the web led me to a solution I could only hope would do the trick.

It was some form of an incantation, performing rites onto an article of clothing with the necessary ingredients. Some rose-embedded candles, feathers of a raven, off-brand vinegar...all stuff I could easily find in the city. And once brought together, the ingredients were meant to create a migration ritual, transferring the essence of one person through an article of clothing onto another being. My plan was for Mario to be at the receiving end, absorbing the identity of my choosing.

And luckily for me, there was no better offering than my arrogant, womanizing older brother. Eric was a decent enough sibling growing up, although we had rarely spoken since my coming out. But overall, he was a different man on the streets. If he was not tackling another dude on the field, then Eric was surely tackling another chick into bed. Therefore, if I could imbed this same heterosexual passion into Mario, I knew I would never have to deal with him skankly attempting to steal my boyfriend every again. 

The set-up had been simple: a pool party with everyone supposedly invited. Of course, I had only reached out to Mario, and had neglected to inform him of the "pool" portion of the party. He was so thankful when I offered him my "spare" pair of speedos, taking the pink-patterned briefs from me without a second thought. He could have never known they had been soaking the entire night before in a brew with my older brother’s own sweat-stained boxers.

At first, the changes had not been evident, but eventually I began to witness the consequences of my actions. Mario had gradually grown taller, every minute having added an extra half-inch to his torso or legs. With this came the expansion of his muscles, defining the bottom’s once-lean figure with juicier, more defined features. 

Now approaching with the beer he had requested, I was able to take in even more changes that had happened while I had been inside. Hair had begun sprouting from Mario’s previously-shaven legs, and his queer mullet had tightened into a douchey French crop. I could even sense his attitude had shifted; Mario was no longer displaying his former star feature (his perky bottom), but instead showcasing his new pride (his literal, much larger pride).

“Good girl,” Mario taunted, chugging the whole can in one go. The teasing nicknames were new too. I should have been insulted, but I was too busy relishing in my success. What other attributes from my older brother would Mario soon absorb?

BUUUUUUUUURRRPP! “So how long until they get here anyway?” Mario groaned, tossing the crushed can aside. 

“Shouldn’t be much longer,” I replied without removing my eyes from him, hoping to witness another change.

Mario noticed my directed attention, assuming it was regarding the swimwear. “This wasn't all some plan to get me into a faggy speedo, was it? I'm beginning to think you wanted a real man like me all to yourself."

The accusation caused me to break, stunned at the rude remark. Mario smirked smugly. “What, something wrong, girly?”

“Yeah, what you're saying is insul-”

“Learn your place and go grab me another beer,” Mario ordered. “You don’t want me to have to get up, do you?”

Surprised and feeling a sudden loss of control, I turned away and made my way back to the kitchen. For the first time I began considering how Mario's conversion may have created an even worse monster than I could have imagined. My once proactive solution no longer appeared to be such.

[dcxdpdabbles]

hello hello! After a few posts of this premise I just had to say something and because you just make them come to life I just had to ask :) anyway, Danny let’s say in seriously injured by the giw or even his parents but he is reverting to his core and he goes to Clockwork to help since he’s the one he’s the most closest ghost to and kinda his guardian ghost, Clockwork sees that he himself will not be able to help forever and finds a different solution. He takes Danny’s core and makes a magic safe guard and puts his core inside in the guise of a doll like this one:

But with Danny’s coloration! He sends Danny to Gotham and ends up being picked up by Robin!Jason who thinks he’s cute and gets attached, Danny is weak but trying to gather ectoplasm but sends a sense of gratefulness to Jason who feels it but is a bit confused but happy he saved a doll. He brings it with him everywhere and takes it with him everywhere but when Jason dies and buried Danny is sat at his grave and he wakes up a little earlier with Danny and brings with him. He gets a strange attachment and feeling of safety with the doll and then is able to talk to it and Danny and him become closer and when he eventually reunites with everyone and things smooth over he feels it’s fine to bring Danny the doll to the mansion and the others realize that Jason has a haunted fucking doll and with the already thin trust they can’t do hair when Danny messes with them with moving their stuff, appearing out of nowhere, and being all around creepy but he helps Alfred so Jason has no issues and finds it funny. There are probably times where they try to dispose of it anyways but comes back completely fine and they become even warier but Danny is just having the time of his life while eating his ectoplasm while helping them with cases and finding things and such and Alfred even defends him when they try to talk Jason around about the creepy doll and is like “Did you stay at my grave 24/7 in all weather? That’s what I thought.” When Tim tries to get evidence he takes a picture of the doll all he sees is a boy around the age Jason died with pale soft blue eyes staring back with a soft smile that even if it wasn’t really creepy he still felt a chill down his spine

First of all, the photo almost gave me a heart attack. Haunted dolls terrify me (ironically, I fear ghosts.) But honestly, I love the prompt, so here you go!

Jason moves back into the manor- sort of. He's still in the middle of his hostile takeover of Crime Alley, but things are a little less stressful between the family. Maybe it was because Jason's Pit Madness was slowly disappearing, thanks to his friend Danny.

Danny was a great listener and always willing to help Jason sort through his feelings and thoughts. He was the reason that Jason chose to try to talk things out with Bruce before going through his insane idea of attacking Tim at the Titian Tower.

Which, you know, Tim was grateful he didn't actually go through with it after finding the plans in some of Jason's stuff while helping him move. The fact he wanted to wear his old Robin outfit- which would not fit on his body now- would have been beyond traumatizing enough, thank you very much.

"I know." Jason laughed as the rest of the family crowded around the plans. Even Damian seemed a bit disturbed by what was written. "Danny made me realize I didn't have the skinny legs to pull off the outfit."

Tim has never met Danny, but he has heard about him. Jason spoke about him when he followed Bruce and Jason around with his camera, which was enough for him to know Danny was likely a childhood friend.

Of course, Danny went by the code "Doll" in those days. Personally, Tim had always assumed that Jason and Danny shared a relationship that went beyond friends.

It had been another reason that Jason was his favorite Robin. If Robin could like boys, then Tim could too, and the knowledge that one of his literal heroes was like him helped Tim accept himself faster.

He never brought it up, even as Jason slowly gained control over Crime Alley as a Crime Lord- one that didn't kill because it would make Danny sad, which was another point in his secret boyfriend checkbox list.

Everything was fine- until Bruce found out about Danny.

"Jason, I thought you outgrew Danny," Bruce uttered hesitantly as Jason explained how Danny had fallen over himself when describing his Titain Tower plan.

Jason's eyes flashed green at once, and everyone in the cave grew tense.

"I will never outgrow Danny!" The second oldest barked, his neck muscles straining.

Now Tim knew that Danny was a secret, so he never brought him up despite the burning need to ask every question under the sun about him. Jason wasn't out to the rest of the family- detectives or not- that was up to Jason to decide when they would know.

He just always assumed Bruce knew since, you know, his son called his best friend Doll back when he was fourteen and running around in green spandex.

How could he not know? Did he want Jason to change his cape out for a rainbow and sing musicals at the top of his lungs on Wayne Tower?

Actually.....Jason did sing in musicals at his drama club. Honestly, Bruce was in denial.

Jason may not be out, but Tim wouldn't let Bruce bully him about his lover!

"Jason can have whatever friends he wants! And feel whatever he feels about them!" Tim snares, and that causes Dick, Damian, and Steph to bristle. They stand beside a huffing Jason, slowly coming down from his rage at the sight of support.

Cass and Alfred watch from the Batcomputer, a tension around their eyes the only sign that they, too. Bruce intelligently raises his hands in a placating manner.

"I did not mean anything wrong by that, Jason. I'm just surprised Danny still has such a strong hold on you." Bruce starts, his eyes never leaving his boy's face, even with all his other children flocking around him. "I thought Danny was lost when you died."

There is a long pause where Tim considers the words. It's a fair assumption. After all, Danny thought Jason had died and been buried. Why would he wait around after that?

Even the Bats still didn't know what caused Jason to come back. How would a civilian possibly begin to consider his boyfriend returning from the grave- or Tim assumes to be a civilian since Danny had never joined them on the field? He had to be in the know for Jason to tell him the plans comfortably.

"He waited every day, twenty-four seven at my grave," Jason tells Bruce, puffing up his chest. "He was with me when I was in a coma and when I was practically brain-dead on the streets. Hell, he was even there when the League of Assiasns brainwashed me!"

Damian jerks in surprise. He always gets taken aback by how casually Jason admits being part of the organization of his upbringing, no matter how briefly. Not even Bruce does that. "I....was unaware Daniel had been with you. I never saw him."

"Talia allowed me to have him with me just as long as I kept him tied up in my closet so he wouldn't be spotted."

Everyone but Alfred and Bruce step back, staring in horror at Jason. Tim can figure out by their reactions alone that everyone in the Bats had come to the same conclusion as he did about Danny being Jason's lover then.

After all, it's hard to hide that kind of thing from the family of detectives.

How could I have missed this? Tim thinks in dismay. Quickly, his brain runs through every time Jason has so much as hinted at Danny, trying to spot the signs that apparently his brother was abusive and honestly psychotic towards his boyfriend.

"Jason," Dick began in the same casual tone he usually used on hostile witnesses. "Where is Danny now?"

" Upstairs in my closet. He kept trying to escape, so I had to switch to chains." The responses are as easy as they are casual. Tim's stomach drops.

Quickly, he makes eye contact with Steph, who very quickly lowers her chin at him, and then his eyes flicker to the others. Damian's hands have curled, while Dick moves casually to stand behind Jason, which will make it easier to restrain him.

How long had Danny been up there? How many days and nights did he spend held against his will in the one place that should have been the safest of Gotham?

They all tense their muscles, ready to strike-

"Danny is a doll," Bruce suddenly speaks up, his eyes flickering to all of the gathered children with a wild, alarmed look. Ah, he caught on to the fact they were about to take Jason down. "A doll that Jason found in Crime Alley. Made of porcelain and fabric. Not a person."

The Bats are still eyeing their father with sharp, trained eyes, but Alfred's agreeing nod has them relaxing. Oh, thank the gods!

"Of course, Danny isn't a person," Jason replies mystified. He is unaware of how close he came to being jumped. As it were, the Bats stepped away from him as he looked around, confused. "Why would I have a person chained up in my closet?"

Bruce gets a strange, sad smile on his face. "Yes, Chum, why would you."

Tim isn't following. "If Danny is a toy-"

"A doll." Jason cuts in with a hard edge to his voice.

"Right, sorry, if Danny is a doll, why must you chain him up?"

Jason smiles. "Cause Danny runs the first chance he gets."

What?

"Danny is a haunted doll," Bruce starts, only to have Jason huff.

"No, he isn't! Danny is not haunted; he's just curious." Jason rolls his eyes. "Yeah, he never stays still, and okay, sometimes things disappear around the house, but that doesn't necessarily mean a haunting!"

"Master Jason, might I remind you that while you and Mister Danny were first living here, I caught the vacuum moving by itself?" Alfred calls. "I also remember that Mister Danny's head turned to me and followed my movement as I dusted."

"He just wanted to help you clean," Jason defends in a rather childish manner that Tim never thought he would see from someone his age. Maybe that's why Bruce was worried Danny was still around. "He's not a ghost."

"Chum, I hear laughter from your room even when you are not home." Bruce starts. "The laughing started the day you brought Danny home."

"He can tell great jokes!"

"Wait, tells jokes? Jason, does Danny talk to you? " Steph questioned, looking a tiny bit spooked. Oh yeah, she hates ghosts. Tim forgot her fear of them after living so close to the Gotham cemetery and all the nasty ghost stories surrounding it.

Jason blinks down at her, likely forgetting they were present, before considering the question. He moves his hand in a so-and-son motion. "He tries, but it sounds like fast past whispers. I have to strain to hear him."

"Jason," Dick says with an easy-going smile that belies the worry in his eyes. "That's haunting one-oh-one. You're haunted."

"No, a haunting implies that Danny is dead, which he is not. Danny is just resting until his body can reform. I think he's an alien." Jason taps his chin. "He told me before that his species are the conscious manifestation of ectoplasm but that their souls are within a small core, they can retreat to when badly injured. Danny was really hurt, so he's taking a while to reform."

Bruce's strained smile becomes tighter. "We can have Zatanna or Consitine take a look at him. They might-"

"I'll blow your fucking head off if you try it, old man" Jason's eyes were a bright green, an animistic sneer at his lips, and bloodlust was thick in the air. The abrupt change makes Tim wonder if he has passed out and missed the trigger.

Bruce sighs. "Of course, Jason. Why don't you show everyone, Danny? I think it's time they meet him."

Jason beams, shooting up the stairs to go get his doll. Everyone watches him go, and until they are sure he can not hear them, they burst into conversation.

"Jason is definitely haunted!" Dick despairs, throwing himself dramatically on a nearby chair. "We need to do something! Get it away from him."

"We will do no such thing," Alfred huffs. "Mister Danny is a fine young ghost who helps Master Jason. It would be unwise to separate them."

"As much as I hate to admit it, even Dinah claims that the two are good for each other." Bruce says, likely unhappy that Black Canary used her therapy license against him, "Apparently, Danny is Jason's support doll."

Before anyone can say anything else, Jason races down the stairs with a broad smile. In his hands is a beautiful porcelain doll with black fabric hair, a fine little king suit made from expensive material, and a pretty painted face.

Its green glass eyes- colored to seem almost watery- seemed to stare into everyone's soul as Jason held him up for the room to see. Danny had no facial expression- not even a smile, just a soft, relaxed neural set of features that were popular in the era he was likely made in, but the eyes held emotions.

There was definitely something intelligent and aware in them.

Tim shuddered.

"Oh, Tim, can you take our picture? It's Danny's first time in the cave, and I want to commemorate the date!" Jason suddenly asks, rocking on his heels like he used to do as Robin. Tim wonders if Danny was doing that to him- reverting him to a child-like mind.

If so, was that a good thing? Should he let it keep happening?

"Sure, Jason," He says, instead picking up his camera that he had taken on patrol. He aims his lends, trying to find the perfect lighting as his older brother quickly holds the doll up in his arms, allowing it' head to be at the same level as his face.

Tim snaps the picture, but when he looks at the screen, a shiver runs down his spine, and it takes all his training not to scream.

Jason's smirk is not out of place for his hulky form. He takes up most of the frame, but where Danny the doll is, there is a faint outline of another person. A teenager, maybe a year younger than Jason, with pretty features, a copy of the beauty in Jason's arms, but much more human, yet not human, is smiling at the camera.

He's about a head shorter than Jason, but even with the softness of his smile, Tim has never been more creeped out in his life.

Jason is definitely haunted.

"How did it come out?" Jason asks as Danny's doll head turns to look at Damian. The younger boy imminently moved back, hiding behind Bruce. The doll's eyes followed him, almost amused by the boy's actions.

"G-good." Tim stammers. Steph is already racing for the safety of Bruce's cape, joining Damian. "Danny is beautiful."

Jason pauses, tilting his head as if hearing something, eyes flickering down to his right where the teenager ghost stood for the picture, and then grins.

"Of course he means it." Jason's ears turn pink as he admits, "I also think you're the most gorgeous person I've ever met."

Okay, Jason is definitely being haunted by someone he might have a crush on. That's....something Bruce has to deal with because Tim is the younger brother, not the dad, and thank god for that.

He might be wrong, but he gets the sense that the doll is blushing even though nothing changes.

It's not my circus and will never be my monkies. Tim thinks racing to Bruce's cape is a good idea as well. He is scared to be out here in the open like Dick and Cass.

Those two might be okay with being haunted, but Tim isn't. Just in case, he'll have to steer clear of the manor for a few days.

[bachiras-toaster]

jealousy and it’s consequences : ̗̀➛

BSD MEN x gn!reader

cw: smut, manipulation, obsessiveness, possessiveness, they’re all a little toxic (except atsushi), giving head (ranpo), receiving head (poe), riding (Atsushi), masturbation

synopsis. how bsd men deal with their jealousy after seeing you with their rival.

characters: dazai, chuuya, ranpo, poe, atushi, akutagawa

DAZAI, seeing you with Chuuya

He sees you with Chuuya? He dares you to hang out with him more. He's serious! Go wild. Hold hands, kiss him— Do it all right in front of Dazai. If you have the nerve to do all of those things in the first place, then surely you wouldn't be opposed to not doing it behind his back? If you're going to so obviously make him jealous, do it to his face.

He will take it out on the both of you-- You more-so than Chuuya. Dazai would probably give Chuuya a quiet and humorous warning, telling him that he could only give him so many more second chances before him hanging out with you really started to tick him off. As for you, he's gonna make sure he has you all to himself from there on out. It's clear that you purposefully making him jealous must be the result of him not giving you enough attention. Well, don't worry, because now he is completely focussed on you. He'll make sure that another person won't even do so much as look at you- Even if it means constantly having you at his side in the agency, cornering you and separating you from your coworkers.

The thing is, he'll act really nice about it, telling you how it's just because he wants you all to himself! He can't stand the thought of you around other people, and seeing you hang out with Chuuya just made him realise that. You're the light of his life, believe him. He can't have other people trying to take that away from him.

When it comes to the sex afterwards too, he gets even more needy. He's a lot more touchy with you, desperate to mark and grab any bit of skin that he can. He's whining and crying to you while he leaves his seventh hickey on your collarbone, his saliva pulling from your skin to his lip as he complains about how he feels so lost without you. Do you prefer Chuuya? Be honest with him. If you really loved him more, you'd let him leave more hickeys on you and you wouldn't try to conceal them the next day. You hated seeing how he teared up while doing so, it just meant you couldn't help but softly pat his head and sigh, treating him as if he were a sick puppy.

CHUUYA, seeing you with Dazai

He'd make his annoyance super obvious from the get-go. He probably wouldn't outright say he's jealous, but he'd heavily imply it. Whenever you come back to work, telling him that you had a fun day out with Dazai, you could swear you'd see Chuuya's eye twitch uncontrollably for a second or two. You'd constantly hear those remarks saying "What's so great about Dazai anyway?" or "How funny can he even really be?" Soon, those remarks tumble into off-handed insults, such as "Dazai doesn't have the mental capacity to take care of someone." He would never blame you for hanging out with him, it will always somehow be Dazai's fault. Dazai must have coaxed you and tricked you into hanging out with him!

His solution would simply be spending more time with you. But, instead of closing you off from the world, he shows you off instead. Insists on going out on dates, PDA in public, walking past the detective agency holding hands in the hopes that Dazai would see it through the window and take the hint... You know, the basic stuff.

But when he's fucking you, the jealousy really shines through that man's eyes. He has you pinned down as he thrusted deeper into you, forcing you to choke out his name as a flurry of moans escaped your lips. Are you still thinking about Dazai right now, or have you finally come to your senses? He's so relentlessly rough with you when he's jealous, so you better pray that that jealousy is mild and not angry, because your legs would have a field day. He'd keep going at it until he was satisfied, ensuring that only his name could linger on your tongue- Only then would he accept that you're only his.

RANPO, seeing you with Poe

Questions the hell out of you. Like, you've been spending a lot of time with Poe recently, haven't you? There's a sort of blunt curiosity to him and he just can't help but swarm you with these queries. "Did you hang out with Poe today?" "I heard you and Poe went to the park." "Yeah, I was busy earlier, but I'm glad you found someone else to hang out with. It was Poe, right?"

He would victimise himself a lot, really dramatising the situation. He'll ask you if you really love him or if you think he's actually worth hanging around. If not that, he'd constantly try and convince you why you should hang out with him instead. If he sees that you're about to leave the agency to go to and meet Poe, he'd immediately stop you. Suddenly, it looks like the perfect day to go for a stroll around the park with Ranpo, don't you think? Or go to the movies? Maybe a nice library? You can even choose the place! Just don't choose Poe over him, he will cry when you're not looking.

Giving him head is the only possible solution to convince him that you wouldn't leave him for somebody else. Having you tucked sweetly between his legs as he leaned back in his office chair, his hand gently stroking the back of your neck- He really deserves this after going through the stress of thinking that you and Poe had something going on. He's an arrogant man, but he can't help but worry, you know? But since you can put aside some time in your schedule just for him, then he supposed that he shouldn't be too concerned.

POE, seeing you with Ranpo

He isn't very surprised at the idea that you could choose Ranpo over him, because of course! Anyone would. It's Ranpo, right? The smartest man alive- Who wouldn't choose Ranpo over Poe? If destroys is self-esteem and his self-worth seeing you and his rival get along so well and so easily. He is very aware of the fact that Ranpo is very intelligent, but would he have the brains to take you away from him? Is he that cruel of a person?

He tries everything to win you over from that man. Even if you don't realise it, doing so much as interact with Poe's rival is enough for him to spiral and to cause him to believe that you must already be considering ditching him. What is it that you want? Gifts? He can deliver that to you in truckloads. Do you want a relaxing holiday? He'll write up a cute story for you, no problem. Poe would kiss the ground that you walked on if it meant that you chose him over Ranpo. He would try everything in his power to remove that man out of the picture, but we all know that there isn't a novel complex enough to trap the Ranpo Edogawa.

So now Poe's tucked between your thighs, working his tongue at your senses as begging that you stay with him. The head is good, right? Tell him that it's good. Tell him he's doing a good job. You need to ensure him that you could never leave him for someone else, otherwise he'll keep whining about it against your skin. He'll continuously ask you if you like how he makes you feel so he can ensure that he can keep doing the right things. He's a listener. If he finds out what you like, he'll use it to his complete advantage.

ATSUSHI, seeing you with Akutagawa

Perhaps the least toxic one when it comes to dealing with jealousy. He doesn't blame you, he only blames himself. You know he gets super self conscious, right? There's no doubt that you're only hanging out with Akutagawa because he hasn't been treating you well enough. At first, he would confide in his friends, like Kyouka or Kunikida. Kyouka would threaten to hurt you, but he would frantically beg her not to put you in harm’s way; and Kunikida would tell him that he shouldn't be jealous, and that you're allowed to have other friends. But he simply can't help it.

It would lead him to pour his entire heart into taking care of you. He needs you to know that he loves you completely, and that you're the only one for him. Gifts, dates, compliments, praise, he'll provide it all for you. If you still choose Akutagawa after all of that, he'll accept it, but he hopes you'll choose him in the end.

So now you need to ride him, tilting his chin up so you could stare down at his pretty little face. He'd whine and cuddle you as you bounced up and down on his lap, blushing profusely as he mutters how much he loves you. He'll give everything to you, everything you want. He'll treat you right. He doesn't want to be jealous, he just wants to be yours.

AKUTAGAWA, seeing you with Atsushi

What could that stupid weretiger have that he doesn't? He's threatened to kill Atushi enough times now, so seeing you interact with him doesn't help his bloodlust and the desire to knock his lights out- in fact, it's just a greater motivation.

And his jealousy is so obvious in the way he threatens you too, grabbing you by the collar and telling you he wouldn't hesitate to have the Port Mafia toss you on the side of the street if you continue conversing with the enemy. You need to make a decision: The Port Mafia or the Armed Detective Agency- Akutagawa or Atsushi? The decision is clear, right? He knows that you wouldn’t dare choose the weretiger over him and you were simply doing this in order to get a rise out of him. He knew all too well.

So now, instead of giving you all of the attention you could dream for, he ignores you. He turns away and isolates you until you’re practically begging for his attention once again. It was just a joke, you just wanted a little bit more love— That’s what you would tell him, but it would never be enough to undo the anger in his heart.

There is no jealousy sex that comes afterwards, it’s just plain voyeurism. While he works on something to do with another one of the Port Mafia’s upcoming attacks, he’d tell you to touch yourself while he plans this and if you’re good by the end of it, he’ll finish the job. But now that just leaves you in another seat on the other side of the room, your legs spread open as you tried to stimulate yourself at the sight of him working. Of course, Akutagawa had no intention of actually touching you to serve as punishment-but you weren’t aware of that, leaving you whining and biting down on your lip as you prayed he would look at you for just a second. Even through your masturbation, he still chose not to look you in the eye, which you found was even more agitating than him not touching you instead.

[thatfreshi]

Can I request Astarion x reader and he drinks from u when your standing and your legs buckle and you start to collapse from the blood loss but he catches you and Carries you to your bedroll and takes care of you?

Forgive me if it's rough, still trying to figure out the speech patterns!

Recommended Song: Ivy - SALES

It usually wasn’t often that Astarion asked to feed on you. Sadly, resources have been scarce, wild animals included. Anytime Lae’zel is out scouting she tries to bring something back for him, but to no avail. Recently, he had been asking quite often, and there is always an air of guilt in his question. 

“I’m sorry to ask my love, I just worry the others will see me differently, if I were to feed on one of them.”

It’s not as if your other companions aren’t aware of his situation, or the fact that you have to satiate him every once in a while. You think he simply feels like a burden, having to ask people for the very thing that sustains him. He just feels a little less like a burden when he asks you.

“Of course dear, no need to be sorry.”

You’ve gotten used to how this goes, as you’ve been travelling together for quite some time, and you and Astarion got smitten rather quickly. He’s always quite gentle, even if it does hurt at first. Instead of sitting down however, you continue working on stitching up a piece of your sleep-wear. With powerful magic from the likes of Gale and Shadowheart, you think such minute things could be fixed easily, but alas, they still require a realistic solution.

While you’re busy putting to work the simple stitch he taught you, Astarion moves to drink, wrapping you in a warm embrace. Many would think that the act of being drained of your own blood would be, well, terrifying, but something about it is quite intimate, heartwarming even. You don’t even really think about how your veins start running cold, how you start to feel much worse than normal. Then, you’re on the ground, needle and thread along with you. 

“Darling! I apologize, I should’ve had you lie down first, I should’ve-” 

He cuts off his own words as he scrambles to think. You’re still not fully there, but you want to tell him you’re fine. Sadly, eyes can’t always tell all. Even your parasite seems too drained to connect with him. When you regain some of your senses, you see that Astarion has brought you back to your bedroll, muttering something to himself, pacing the tent.

“I could’ve waited, I would’ve been fine. I-”

He pauses, realizing you’ve started to stir.

“Tav, darling, are you alright?”

You try sitting up, and he quickly moves to support your back, wrapping his arm around you waist.

“Yeah… yeah I’m okay.”

“I apologize, I knew it was a risk to feed on you again so soon. I put you in a terrible position, asking you like that.”

You reach to put your hand over his.

“No, it’s alright. I’ve become so nonchalant about it, I should’ve been much more considerate of the circumstances.”

He’s silent, trying to find another way to blame himself. The truth is, both of you were quite tired from the recent adventuring, and weren’t thinking straight. 

“I’ll tell them all we should stay at camp for another day. Or perhaps they can journey back to the Grove and we can stay for another evening.”

You tighten your grasp on his hand until he finally make eye contact with you.

“Astarion, it’s fine, truly. I’ll be fine tomorrow, come morning.”

You smile at him, despite the nausea caught in your throat. He feels bad enough, no use in making it worse. 

“Here, come lie with me.”

You meet the ground once again, and he joins you shortly after. He still has that look, that dreary mist across his eyes. Instead of trying to tell him in words, you nestle into his side, wrapping yourself around him, a way of saying ‘I still love you, no matter what.’ He leaves a kiss on your forehead, and finally lets the tension go. You close your eyes soon after, exhausted. Astarion never tells you, but he stayed awake and by your side the entire night, unmoving, just in case.

[damned-punk]

No Surprises (Kidd x Reader)

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Content Warning: kissing, fluff

Content Description: Kidd overhears gn!reader discussing something that they want and he decides to make it for them himself ♡

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The sun sat low on the horizon as you lounged on the deck with your crewmates after dinner. It was the first day back at sea after being ported for a week as the log pose took its time to realign, a fact that left you yearning for a little more time on the island. You’d come across the prettiest waist belt with a snake as the center pendant, golden with glittering eyes. You’d had your hands full with ship supplies and decided that personal shopping could wait until the evening, a well intentioned action that resulted in the belt being purchased while you were away.

“It’s eyes were emerald and the scales were carved perfectly.”, you pouted to Bubblegum and House, “I should’ve just stopped when I saw it the first time.”

“That fuckin’ sucks though… Maybe you’ll find something similar on another island?”, Bubblegum offered as a solution.

“I doubt it.”, you huffed, “Judging by everything else at the booth, I think the owner made the pieces himself so it’s unlikely that another would be floating around somewhere.”

“It sounds to me like you need to find someone to commission.”, House retorted in response to your defeat.

There was only one person that you could think of that had the ability to craft something of that nature, but there was no way he’d waste his time making something so useless. You could almost hear him denying your request, a hurl of halfhearted insults to indicate how much of a bother it would be. Although, despite the conversation only consisting of a party of three, another person had been listening in on your dismay and resolved that he could replicate the accessory with a sense of craftsmanship that would dull that of the booth’s owner. He carried himself to his workbench, red hair falling across his forehead unceremoniously as he brought his goggles to rest over his eyes.

Kidd’s feelings for you had been shifting, deepening as each day passed into the next. What had started as an initial impression of interest had taken full captivation of his heart, bending his iron will to fit in the palm of your hand. He’d wanted to tell you for a while now, he just didn’t know how. He was your Captain and while it would never be his intention, he couldn’t ignore the glaringly obvious power imbalance that would loom over you and he didn’t want a change in your relationship to cause a change in crew dynamics. Too many factors relating to your happiness were at stake and it was paralyzing for him.

It was the reason he stayed pent up in his workshop the entire night, perfecting a golden snake that he hoped to see resting around your waist. It was a visualization that lead his thoughts astray, a break in focus that he had to quickly reel himself in from. Link after link, scale after scale, he fixed and polished components of the belt in a way that he hoped you’d like. Kidd rummaged through several piles of loot he’d amassed through his time at sea, spreading out what seemed to be an endless selection of precious gems to fit for the eyes. He settled on two matching rubies, an unintended homage to himself and as equally befitting of the warm-toned metal as the emeralds he’d noted from your description.

As he sat with the dainty accessory in his hands, a feeling akin to embarrassment spread through his chest. Despite having no good reason, he felt like a fool for making a gift for someone based on a conversation he hadn’t even had with them. Moreover, he wasn’t even sure you’d be enthusiastic about his creation and certainly didn’t want to be at the other end of your disappointment. He tucked the belt away into his palm and stepped out onto the deck to take in some fresh air, the sun just beginning to break across the morning sky. He wasn’t in the right headspace to present you with the belt himself and he sure as hell couldn’t get caught leaving it at your door. He had to act and quickly, it wouldn’t be long before Killer would start breakfast and the ship would reanimate after a rather quiet night.

Kidd approached the door of your cabin and carefully looped the chain of the belt around your door handle. He made his way to his own cabin, showering and lying down to rest even if just for a little while. You woke not long after exhaustion consumed the Captain, going about your own morning routine and eventually making your way to the door. As you pushed it open and crossed the threshold toward the deck, you heard a clanking noise rattle against the wood. Much to your shock and delight, you were met with a gift that you hadn’t expected in the slightest. It was different from the original belt, but better in every way.

You were dumbfounded on how it’d come to find you, especially considering neither Bubblegum nor House possessed the necessary skills to forge something so intricate. Trying on the accessory and finding that it shaped your waist perfectly, you immediately sought out your friends. House was the one to mention commissioning someone to make it but when you pressed her about it, she swore she had no idea where it had come from. Grilling Bubblegum for information also lead to a dead end, but things took a turn when Killer interjected on your interrogation.

“It was left on your door handle?”, he asked for confirmation.

“Yes and I only talked to two people about it yesterday.”, you reiterated, “No one else was on the deck at the time so it’s not making any sense.”

Killer thought back on the night before, reminiscing on the light beneath the door of Kidd’s workshop and the hum of music that seeped from its walls so late into the evening. He’d chalked his behavior up to Kidd’s usual tinkering inclinations, everything clicking for him in that moment.

“I don’t think it was just the three of you on the deck last night… I think this would be a lot less confusing if you asked the Captain about it.”, he suggested, the smile hidden beneath his mask coming forth through his tone.

“Wait.”, the thought of Kidd crafting the belt for you caused your face to brighten, “Do you really think that-… There’s no way.”

“He was up pretty late… I reorganized part of the pantry last night and he was still locked in his workshop when I went to bed.”, Killer nudged you with his elbow, “Go ask him about it and I think you’ll get your answer.”

You reluctantly took Killer’s advice, a feeling of shyness threatening to overtake your usually solid composure. Lifting your hand and leaving three knocks on Kidd’s cabin door, your nerves surmounted as you listened to his heavy footsteps trailing directly toward you. The door swung open to reveal his typical stern expression, features of lingering sleepiness presented as his hair was tousled and he was shirtless. He leant against the door frame, the already noticeable size difference between the two of you becoming exacerbated.

“You wouldn’t happen to know anything about this, would you?”, you gestured to the belt, still neatly locked in it’s place around your abdomen.

“Why the hell would I know anything about a belt?”, he asked gruffly, averting his gaze which only served to prove Killer’s theory.

“No one else could’ve made this belt, Kidd.”, you grinned up at him, your smile widening as his face glowed a similar shade to his hair.

“There’s no surprises with you, huh?”, he asked, his tone coming across as a bit pouty.

The gesture was so sweet and you just couldn’t help but attempt to wrap your arms around him for a hug. He stood stiff as a brick for a moment, just barely letting himself relax enough to pat your back while a chorus of appreciative compliments crossed your lips. As you spoke, he caught himself staring at them. Much softer than his own and taunting, it was almost like you were asking him to ravage you. These impulsive thoughts had been occurring for a while now, always forcing himself to ignore them.

“Are you even listening to me?”, you giggled at his distant expression, recognizing that he was obviously lost in thought.

He made eye contact with you and gripped your chin in his hand. It wasn’t forceful, but reminiscent of his possessive streak. He leant down and captured your lips with his own, your hands making their way to rest on his chest for support. Without breaking contact, Kidd pulled you into his cabin and kicked the door shut. Following several heated moments, he broke for air and rested his forehead against your own.

“You could’ve just given it to me yourself, weirdo.”, you teased him.

“Watch it.”, he landed a playful tap on your bottom.

The pair of you pestered one another for the rest of the evening, an amusing dynamic that would certainly carry throughout your impending relationship.

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[sativaonsaturn]

astro observations about my own placements

virgo sun

people who just get it. laugh at pretty much anything, may not smile much but definitely love to laugh. type of people who absolutely need to say “i told you so” even if it’s in a loving way. good at spending time alone; can hang but if the circumstances are not optimal, we will opt out 😂 definitely the type to do it ourselves if it’s not exactly the way we want (ex: dish at a restaurant isn’t as good as it could be, so we make it ourselves at home) also do not sleep on a virgo, we are silent killers 😂 i’ve found that we also really value people based on merit. so even if we don’t like someone, if they’re hard working or go getters we respect them just for that.

pisces moon

water moons in general experience real emotional rollercoasters. scorpio is like a storm of emotions, cancer like constant rolling waves and pisces like a back and forth between still waters and crashing waves. pisces moons are usually between extremes of numbness and deep feelings. this can vary from moment to moment, week to week, even years apart - especially when we master our emotions (as in being aware of emotions rather than being consumed by them) can be prone to putting others’ emotional needs before their own but can also disregard them and be cold. super intuitive; many have prophetic dreams, can read energies, know what others’ will say before they say it. also people close to us may feel like they’ll never truly know us as we have a tendency to be elusive.

libra mercury

The Diplomat. usually have pleasing voices and know how to talk to people, especially if it’s in the 1st house. great at conflict resolution; will hear everyone out and find a solution. also rely heavily on logic when communicating, really understanding people and want whatever will keep things balanced (can avoid conflict for this reason). like every libra placement, look at both sides of everything but i would say on the scale of indecisiveness it goes: 1. libra moon 2. libra mars 3. libra mercury.

leo venus

a love on fire. there are two sides to this: passion that burns hot and a fire that can get snuffed out just as fast. generous (in every sense) lovers to all loved ones, friends and romantic partners alike. fairly high standards, not as high as virgo venus but definitely know what we want. love to adorn ourselves with carefully picked jewelry, perfume, etc. like we pay extra attention to what complements us (including partners). on the same note, unless aspected negatively, a leo venus will never go for someone who doesn’t want them. we’re very big on being loved, wanted, desired and there’s a lot of pride to consider as well. so even if we really want someone, if it’s not reciprocated or we feel a void/ lacking, we’ll leave. (this goes for any kind of relationship) also very passionate in love, need that back in all our close relationships.. especially romantic.

sagittarius mars

strong minded, have unwavering values (my mercury helps balance this). as sag is ruled by the 9th house, i’ve found that it’s really important that i travel. whether it’s a weekend in another town or a week in another country, it’s essential to feeling sane and grounded. when i haven’t changed scenery for a while, i find that i become restless. new experiences can fill that gap too. like trying a new cuisine or getting a piercing. i find that we tend to view sex as a sport 😭 i personally don’t feel like this is a negative thing; with the right person this can make things more fun/ exciting. have predominant thighs/ hips - can be the fullest part of the body. we can get angry quite quickly but simmer down just as quick, esp if we get our points across or find a fulfilling outlet (like throwing things or working out). also HATE being told what to do. this isn’t to say we can’t take instruction but being given direction where it isn’t needed is a sure fire way to set us off.

sativaonsaturn 🍃🪐

[bitterrobin]

the mom/dadification of Dick really starts to be detrimental when people say things like "[insert parental figure] should've done more to properly reprimand/comfort [insert whump blorbo here]" Especially when it comes to the 2009 era with Tim's whole deal - its always "why didn't Dick 'parent' Damian better and do something for Tim???" and never actually analyzing why that whole idea is wrong. Dick isn't Tim's father and Dick isn't Damian's father. He's Tim's older brother first and foremost. Why does whenever Bruce die or do something shitty suddenly everyone shoves Dick into the Fatherhood role? He has responsibility as the adult in simple terms, yes, but at the time of Bruce's death in the 2009 Reborn era he was not Damian's family.

He was watching Damian because Damian at the time was an obstacle, like running around having to carry a bomb and watch it so it doesn't explode. He wasn't taking care of Damian because he cared about the kid (at first) and he told Tim that much before Tim decided to leave. He explicitly told Tim that he trusted him as an equal partner, not another kid he needed to watch out for. And whether that sentiment is wrong or not is your opinion, but theres something to said about Dick's own struggles with independence and how he was probably trying to give Tim a chance of independence that wouldn't end as badly as Dick and Bruce's schism did. It backfired in a sense, and honestly I feel regardless of whether Tim stayed as Robin or not things would still have ended shitty because they were both grieving and Tim is a teenager becoming an adult and they were not agreeing on the Bruce thing. (Even if Tim was never shown on panel telling Dick his actual ideas for Bruce being alive before he left).

Whatever idk. I just feel people forget Dick has his own serious issues and absolutely none of the Batman characters would be adept at therapy speak or actively acknowledging their own problems. Dick has his own shit to deal with, just as Tim has his own issues and Damian has issues. There's never going to be a correct solution to the very human conflict going on. You can't "I'm a good parent/sibling" your way out of it. Dick suddenly gaining self-sentience and deciding to punish Damian like a dad would change nothing. Honestly it'd make things worse, Damian has never responded well to parenting and I don't get why people think getting yelled at or put in baby jail would fix his deep-seated issues with the concept of mom/dad. Damian getting punished wouldn't fix anything. Tim staying Robin wouldn't fix anything because he was already set on leaving to search for clues on his theory.

[niningtori]

violets are blue: a hanahaki au | oneshot

pairing(s): choi beomgyu x you, choi yeonjun x you

summary: you love beomgyu, your best friend, so much it makes you sick. literally. like, sick in the sense that your days are numbered as you try to fight off the hanahaki threatening to kill you every time he breaks your heart with his loving girlfriend, so you decide you'll try getting over him with the help of his girlfriend's friend, yeonjun.

genre: ANGST, melodrama, romance, hanahaki

warnings: lots of clichés, serious illnesses, and mentions of death

word count: 5.2k

notes: surprise! i didn't think i'd get this out just yet but here it is <3 please don't be mean (i'm fragile) and feedback is always appreciated!

it’s a bearable sort of pain, but it’s still painful, nonetheless. bearable is a very loose term, too, because you know if and when things continue as they are, you will no longer be able to write your symptoms off so casually. and as you lean over beomgyu’s toilet and watch purple petals stained with crimson red blood swirling down the drain, you know it won’t be long before your pain crosses from “bearable” to “hellish”. 

still, you manage to flush the evidence of your dying heart and take a good look at yourself in the mirror. your lips are nice and bloody, your makeup nice and smudged. you calmly take out the emergency mouthwash and makeup from your bag and get to work. after you’re finished tidying up, it’s almost like nothing ever happened. with a shaky smile and slightly reddened eyes, you leave his bathroom and prepare for the worst.

and the worst, it is. you just so happen to walk in to beomgyu’s living room while he plants a kiss on his girlfriend’s cheek as she giggles like mad. suddenly, your chest hurts even more than it already did and you find it hard to breathe. well, back to the bathroom you go.

-

you wish it were like the stories. you wish you could get some magical surgery to remove the flowers from your lungs — yes, even if it meant forgetting beomgyu. if you were a better person, you would say you’d rather die with your love than forget him; but as you’ve come to find out, you guess you’re not that selfless. actually, with the way things are now, you think it’d be better to forget. but unfortunately for you, there is no such solution in this world. 

as it stands, the only way for you to cure your illness is by finding another love, which you have been too stubborn to try, but as you die a little more and more every day, you realize you have to do something. beomgyu is getting more serious with his girlfriend with every passing day, and even before that, he never once looked at you like anything other than a best friend — which you thought was killing you at the time, in a figurative sense, but now it’s killing you in the most  literal of ways and you’re desperate. 

you want to tell yourself that beomgyu needs you, and maybe he does, but he does not need your love the way you need his. the proof of this sentiment being that one of you is, at present, dying for the love of the other, and it’s not him. 

-

it’s hard to hate beomgyu’s girlfriend when she’s so fucking nice, so you stopped trying to hate her long, long ago. in another life, you might even call each other friends. in this one, though, it’s a quiet sort of dance where you neither push nor pull her too hard. if she’s there, you greet her with a smile on your face. if she’s not, you don’t ask about her. it’s a delicate little charade, but one you play the part in flawlessly. beomgyu commends you for being “so cool” with her, but you have no other choice. if you veer too much in one direction or the other, you run the risk of losing him for good. 

so she is, understandably, very surprised when you wait for beomgyu to go to the bathroom before asking her if she has any single friends.

“oh my god, really? i thought you'd never ask!” she exclaims, and you paste on a smile so sweet it’s sickening.

turns out, she has a lot of friends, unlike you, and many of them are, in her words, handsome. she pulls up a picture of a few of them and your eye is caught by one in particular. 

“who’s that one?” you ask, pointing to a black-haired boy with an undercut. 

“that’s yeonjun,” she grins. “oh, i just knew you’d like him. you’re totally his type, too. he’s gonna freak when i set you two up.” 

“what’s going on?” beomgyu cuts, and your short-lived giddiness is shot in the head almost instantly.

“baby, you’ll never believe it. she’s interested in yeonjun,” she declares, still as excited as ever.

beomgyu turns to you with a look you can only describe as odd. you never talk about dating with him. like, ever. you don’t even seem interested in the idea to the point where he very earnestly sat you down one day and asked you if you were asexual, to which you spent a very arduous few hours awkwardly explaining that you are not. honestly? he didn’t really believe it at the time, but he’s beginning to now, if only because you seem so incredibly flustered at the moment. 

“really? that’s great,” he says after a slightly off-putting pause, but thankfully, nobody catches it. “you know, for a second there, i thought you were gonna be our future kids’ single wine aunt forever. i’m glad you’re finally putting yourself out there.” god, he hurts you, and he doesn't even mean to, but it hurts all the same. he’s spoken about marrying and having children with her, but to think that you fall into the “fun aunt” role in his future with her just makes you feel sick. you’d better pray that this shit with yeonjun goes well, because your lungs are starting to ache just as the thought.

“this is great,” she says, breaking you out of your trance. “how about this: we’ll go on a double date. that sounds fun, right?” 

“actually, i think i’d like to meet him on my own first, if that’s cool with you,” you say. the last thing you need is for the love of your life to be there on your first date with another man. what if things go wrong? or worse, what if things go right? beomgyu can’t be there for that. you can’t do that to poor yeonjun.

she looks disappointed at your words, but beomgyu cheers her up by pinching her cheeks and promising that you’ll all have plenty of chances to go out together if things go well. you try to smile, you really do, but you’re not sure if what comes out looks anything even remotely close to one. luckily, it seems like they’re too absorbed in each other to notice.

-

you haven’t talked much with yeonjun before tonight, opting to meet him in person to see if the chemistry is there before wasting any time with just “talking”. you simply don’t have the time to spare, and yeonjun seems equally as eager to meet you for reasons unknown. so now you sit all dolled up and glammed out at the back of a dimly lit restaurant as you wait to meet the boy you can only pray will save you. he must have no idea how much you need this. 

when you first see him, you’re taken aback by how handsome he is. you see beomgyu every day, and he’s the handsomest man in the world to you, but something about yeonjun is different. when he introduces himself and you get to know each other, his charisma charms you in a way you sincerely did not anticipate. he’s funny and goofy, which is just how you like them. you haven’t been on a date in god know’s how long, but you’re starting to think that maybe this previously incomprehensibly doomed situation may not be so inescapable after all. that is, until he’s taking you home.

it’s dark outside and he graciously gives you his jacket like the gentleman he is, and you’re walking notably close together on the sidewalk, bodies brushing each other every few steps when he tells you something that just might change your life.

“listen, i really had fun tonight,” he says nervously, and it’s like you can feel the rejection before he even says anything more.

“but to be honest with you, my intentions aren’t exactly pure.” your heart drops. does he just want to sleep with you or something? that wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world, but it’s not what you need. you need to love someone and for that someone to love you back so you don’t get sick beyond salvation. the only way to get over beomgyu is by getting serious with someone else.

“then what do you want?” you question feebly. he stops walking and turns to look at you, placing his hands on your shoulders.

“i want to fall in love with you, and i want you to fall in love with me. i want us to be together forever. i need it, actually.” he says eerily seriously, and you’re confused for a few moments before it dawns on you. 

“you’re sick, aren’t you?” you ask, and his face hardens for a second before he nods.

“y-yeah, i'm sick. if you don't wanna see me again after this, i understand. i just —”

“it's okay. i am, too,” you say with a small, reassuring smile.

“you too?” he asks, eyes comically wide and pouty lips agape in an “o”. 

“yeah,” you tell him, and he’s quiet for a few moments before he laughs. it’s a cute, pretty little thing, and it makes you join him, too. 

“wow, maybe meeting each other was fate,” he says between giggles.

“maybe,” you reply. and for the first time in a long time, you think you might really make it out of this alive.

-

“and you won’t believe it, but he told me he spent the whole night with her!” beomgyu’s girlfriend says proudly. 

“... what?” he mumbles dazedly. 

“he said he went over to her place and stayed there all night, and on the first date, too!” she babbles. “now, he didn’t tell me what they did, but if i know yeonjun, i bet they —” 

“stop,” he cuts in. he doesn’t know why, but he feels that if he hears one more word about it, something will feel horribly wrong. it already does feel wrong, in a way, but he can’t quite put his finger on why. 

“why? aren’t you happy for them?” she asks confusedly. 

“i… i am. it’s just weird, y’know? she’s like… like a sister to me. nobody wants to hear about their sister’s private life,” he reasons, and she nods in response.

“i guess that makes sense,” she says. “but still, i’m so happy for them. especially him. he’s actually had a rough time, lately. i don’t know why, but he’s been acting kinda weird with me, so i —” 

“you’re here!” beomgyu says as you walk through his front door. he’s been expecting you. since your first date with yeonjun, he’s been eagerly texting you about it. you haven’t responded much, but he’s been chalking it up to how busy you must be with your new, well, whatever yeonjun is to you. he’s excited when he thinks about how he’ll get to see how you two interact with each other tonight since his girlfriend suggested you all hang out together, but part of him feels off about this entire situation. what he told her was the truth: it is weird to see you with someone, but maybe he’s just not used to it. you’ve never been openly attracted to anyone before, so it’s brand new territory to navigate. 

you greet him with a soft smile and not much else, which strikes him as odd, but yeonjun trails in after you, and all other thoughts go out of the window. 

“hey, man! nice to see you. it’s been a while,” he says, and yeonjun reciprocates the same excitement, going in for a side hug. 

beomgyu’s girlfriend goes in for a hug, too, and yeonjun freezes for a bit, but it goes unnoticed by everyone besides you. you look at him with as much reassurance and understanding as you can muster, and he replies with a grateful, shaky smile.

honestly, you weren’t terribly surprised when he told you that the object of his affections was the very person who holds the heart of the object of yours. she’s a bubbly, lively kind of girl, and it’s easy to fall in love with someone like that. if anything, it just makes you think that maybe yeonjun was right when he said meeting each other was fate.

the night is pretty fun, all things considered, and you find yourself not wanting to die while spending time with the loving couple, but that’s only because yeonjun is sitting next to you. when something particularly devastating happens, you grab each other’s hands and squeeze like you’re the other’s only lifeline. in a way, you kind of are. without him, you’d be on a one-way train to certain death, and without you, he’d be the same. 

things are pretty light, though, until beomgyu says he has an announcement to make.

“we’re moving in together!” his girlfriend cheerily cuts in before he can do the honors, and that’s enough to make any hard-earned progress go out the window. you feel your stomach churn and you’re finding it hard to breathe. you look very visibly ill, and while yeonjun is not doing much better, you definitely take it a lot harder.

“that’s amazing! i’m happy for you guys!” yeonjun chirps. 

“yeah. sorry, i think i need to go to the bathroom,” you mumble, and yeonjun concernedly looks at you before you subtly shake your head. in that brief look, you have an entire conversation. he asks if you’re alright and if you need him to come with you to spill your guts out, and you tell him you’re not, but you’d rather go alone.

while his girlfriend may not catch it, beomgyu certainly does. that odd, silent conversation that only yeonjun and you seem privy to. the fact that you two seem to have a level of understanding with words unspoken makes him feel suffocated, and there’s an unknown sharpness in his chest. 

he tries to join back in on the banter, but he can’t shake the uncanny feeling he has, so he excuses himself and follows you to the bathroom. 

now, he knows this is really fucking weird to do, so he almost doesn’t do it, but the sound of you retching makes him abandon all consideration of right and wrong. he presses his ear to the door and hears hushed sobs in between hacks, and it makes his eyes widen in horror and concern. 

he’s not sure how much time passes, but he hears the heartbreaking sounds die out, and then he hears the water run and you clearing your throat. he takes the cue to stop pressing against the door, and before long, you step out of the bathroom while looking perfectly put together. you flinch almost imperceptibly when you catch him right outside the door. 

“are you alright?!” he exclaims, but you just nod and begin to push past him, murmuring something about being fine, but that you and yeonjun need to leave because something came up. he didn’t even know you could move so fast, and he finds that he’s borderline chasing you to the living room where his girlfriend and yeonjun look up in surprise at the scene before them.

“do we need to leave?” yeonjun asks carefully.

“yeah,” you say shortly, and you’re booking it out of the door and onto the porch before beomgyu grabs your arm and spins you around to face him. his girlfriend hesitantly follows yeonjun outside and watches the entire ordeal as puzzle pieces begin to fit together in her mind.

“are you alright?!” he repeats, and you just face him with a withering, humbling look.

“i’m okay. i just don’t feel good tonight, but i’ll be alright. congratulations on everything, i’m sorry i can’t stay to celebrate.” and normally that would be enough to throw him off of your scent, but beomgyu remembers your muffled cries, and he won’t be swayed so easily. 

“what’s wrong? no bullshit. just tell me,” he demands in a way that is uncharacteristically solemn, but you can’t answer that. the only way to get him to forget about you is for you to distract him with the person he loves most.

“but your girlfriend —” 

“don't even start. what’s wrong?” he, well, asks isn’t even really the world, is it? there’s no room for negotiation in his tone. 

“i… i’m sick,” is all you can really say. 

“sick how? sick like you need me to take you home?” and he doesn’t really believe his own implication that it’s something so easily fixable, but he has to try. 

“i’m… i’m really sick. sick like i’m dying, sick,” you manage to croak out, and it’s everything he feared and more.

“what’s wrong?! do you need to go to the hospital?!” he panics, and you feel an overwhelming sense of dread. this is what you wanted to avoid because he can’t help you. nobody can. 

“baby?” the soft voice of his girlfriend pipes up from behind you. his gaze is torn away from you for just a moment, but that’s enough to make you ache.

“not now!” he snaps before turning his attention back to you, but it’s too late. you feel the sharp stems scratching at your lungs, causing a scorching sort of pain you can’t even put into words. slowly, you begin to cough — choke, really — and beomgyu is helpless to watch as you clutch your chest and hack up a mess of bloodied, tangled flowers. his eyes widen as he takes in the blood seeping from the corners of your mouth. 

“who?” he asks shakily as you finish coughing up the last of the petals, and you know he’s asking who your unrequited love is, but you don’t reply. you can’t reply. 

“who is it?” he asks again with more edge to his voice, but you still can’t muster up the courage to answer him. you could lie like you usually do, but you’re so tired, you just can’t anymore.

“baby?” his girlfriend repeats.

“what?!” he snaps, unable to help himself from losing his temper as he turns to look at her.

“it’s… it’s you,” is all she says, and his scowl drops and morphs into incredulity and dread.

“that's impossible,” he whispers, but one look at you and your twisted expression is enough to erase all doubt. “m-me? listen, you know i love you, but i —” 

“it's alright,” you coax, trying to placate him. even in your darkest moments, you're still putting his feelings first, and the thought alone is suffocating him. “i know. i really, really do. you don’t have to explain it to me.” and your “comforting” smile would be more convincing if it weren't stained red. 

“but you’re sick! you —” 

“i’ll be alright,” you whisper, and he’s at a loss for words at how calm you seem to be. how can you be so resigned? he looks at you — really, truly looks at you — for the first time in god knows how long, and he finally notices how different you are. your frame is lighter, your cheeks are more pronounced, and there are violet bags underneath your bloodshot eyes. how could he have missed so many signs? you’re dying, no way around it, and he was so busy playing house with his girlfriend, he had no idea just how much you were — are — suffering. it’s unforgivable, but he can tell you’ve forgiven him, anyway. how long have you been forgiving him? since the start of his current relationship? or even before that? 

“we should go,” yeonjun cuts in tentatively. you just tearily nod, and before beomgyu can say anything more, you’re in yeonjun’s car and driving away.

-

he calls and texts for days on end, but you don’t respond. at some point, he resolves to come see you in person. the way you looked the last time he saw you haunts him viciously. he just has to see you. he just has to be sure.

but when he shows up at your doorstep, you just look exhausted and even worse for wear. you don’t greet him, even, you just sigh and walk back to your bedroom before plopping down into the bed and looking at him with a look he can only describe as unreadable. 

“i just h-had to make sure you’re okay,” he stammers.

“i’m okay,” you reply gently. “i just need some time.” 

“b-but maybe if i —” 

“it won’t work. the only way out of this is for you to love me back, or for me to get over you. yeonjun is helping me, so it’s going to be alright, i think.”

“what if i —” 

“you can’t make yourself love me, beomgyu,” you say softly, the slightest tinge of a reprimand in your voice. 

“i… i can try,” he whimpers.

“yes, but i don't want you to. you have a girlfriend,” you patiently reply, but your seemingly unshakable patience just makes him more desperate.

“then what do you want me to do? i’m killing you!” he exclaims, and you wince as a sharp pain strikes your temples at the noise. he notices your response, and he just wants to die from the guilt.

“i don’t want you to do anything. that’s why i didn’t tell you.” how could you not want him to do anything? how could you possibly ask that of him? 

“h-how can you say that? how can you just expect me to watch you die?” he whines, tears spilling down his cheeks as he looks to you for a perfect solution that will never come.

“i’m alright,” you tell him again, but the way you wheeze afterwards suggests otherwise.

he goes to grab you, maybe to pat your back or maybe to hold you, he’s not really sure, but you feebly put your hand up to stop him before he gets too close. it’s an innocent gesture in and of itself, yet it somehow feels like you just smacked him across the face. 

“don’t touch me,” you say, but it’s more like a plea than anything else. “it’ll just hurt me more.” with that, your words devolve into a coughing fit and all he can do is watch as splatters of blood and stems stain the tissue you cough into. he never, not in a million years, thought that his touch would hurt you. it’s supposed to soothe you like nothing else. you know, the way your touch soothes him.

“i think you should go,” you suggest after your coughing has died down. he can see the aftermath of his mere presence etched into the tired lines on your face, and he feels less like a person and more like the scum of the earth. 

-

“what are you thinking about?” a sweet voice says, effectively pulling him out of his reverie. beomgyu is currently supposed to be cooking dinner with his girlfriend, but he’s spending more time spacing out than actually cooking the noodles he’s meant to be stirring.

“n-nothing,” he sputters, but her knit eyebrows and frown let him know he has to elaborate. still, he pretends he doesn’t notice her silent urging and returns to his task. 

he can feel her stare on him as he watches the pot, and it’s not very long before she sighs and says her next words.

“you’re thinking about her, aren’t you?” 

“what? n-no! i just —” 

“yes, you are.” and her tone isn’t accusatory, but it’s filled with a sense of knowing. “it’s normal to think about her, you know? she’s dying and —” 

“don’t say that! why would you say that?! she’s not going to die!” he yells, slamming down the fork he was using to stir and turning to face her. he’s visibly shaking with rage — which makes no sense given that he knows, she knows, and even you know that her words are true. 

“she’s going to die,” she repeats. “you need to accept that.”

“how can you expect me to accept that?! you two just expect me to be okay with her fucking dying! well, i’m not!” he cries, tears streaming down his face as his words get louder and louder. 

“... i think you need to take some time to cool down. i’ll stay with my parents, so do what you need to do. when you’re ready, just call me, okay?” she says, and he only sobers up after he hears the front door slam shut.

-

beomgyu stays in an odd sort of purgatory. he’s constantly torn between contacting you and leaving you alone like you so obviously want. he tells himself that you’re his best friend, so of course he wants to see you and comfort you, but it feels much deeper than that. like there’s something unsolved and untouched that he just needs to dig a little deeper to figure out, but as for what that something is, he can’t seem to quite grasp. 

with this in mind, he never, not in a million years, anticipated that you’d be here on his doorstep. but here you are. you look even worse than before, somehow, which he is surprised by seeing as how things with yeonjun seem to be going well if yeonjun’s instagram updates of the both of you mean anything at all. he invites you in and offers you a seat, but you refuse. 

“come on, sit down. you must be tired,” he urges, but you wave your hand. 

“i don’t need to stay here long,” you dismiss, and it hurts his heart. “i just need one thing from you, and i’ll be out of here.”

“you need something from me? sure, anything! w-what is it?” and he sounds so hopeful, so earnest. maybe there’s a way to undo what he’s done. maybe he can help you after all. no matter what it is, he knows he can do it.

“... i need you to reject me,” is all you say, but the words ring in his ears. reject you? how can he reject you when it looks like a breeze could knock you over?

“b-but why?” he stammers, and you sigh.

“i finally figured it out. i just need to hear you tell me that you don’t love me, then i think i’ll be able to fully let you go for good.” usually, you’d have a soft smile on your face in order to comfort him, but your face is blank except for your eyes, which seem more desperate than anything he’s ever seen. but your words confuse him.

“let me go for good?” 

“yeah. i think if i can just hear you say it, i won’t need to see you anymore. i won’t ask for anything else, i just need to hear it from you,” you say determinedly. but he’s stuck on “i won’t need to see you anymore”. what could you possibly mean by that? 

“what do you mean you won't need to see me anymore?” he asks, voice devoid of any ill intent, but filled with genuine confusion.

“i mean, yeonjun doesn’t like me seeing you for obvious reasons, but i told him that i think i’ll be okay after this.” his confusion turns into dread. things that were a mystery to him suddenly make perfect sense.

“i can’t,” he chokes out, and you’re visibly stunned before anger explodes inside of you. 

“you can’t? what the fuck do you mean you can’t? why can’t you?!” you seethe. you’ve done everything for beomgyu, you even almost paid the ultimate price for him just so you wouldn’t have to make him uncomfortable with your feelings. you’re quite literally dying because of him, and he can’t offer up a meager sentence for you?

“i… i can’t say it. please don’t make me say it,” he pleads. “i’ll do anything else — anything, i swear to god!”

“beomgyu, there is nothing else. this is the only way. i’m not asking you for much, just say it, then i’ll be okay.” but he can’t do what you ask of him. not when he’s realized what he just realized. 

“b-but i… i do love you. i’m sorry, i just didn’t realize it until just now, but i do. a-and if you’ll have me, i —” smack! and his pathetic speech is stopped by your hand meeting his cheek. 

“you are so fucking selfish,” you spit, voice low, but vibrating with rage. “more selfish than i will ever be able to understand.” 

“w-what do you —” 

“beomgyu, you have a girlfriend. a girlfriend who loves you. what about her? huh?” you ask, and his previous momentum falters, but you’re not even finished yet. 

“and if she gets sick, are you gonna leave me and tell her you want her instead? you can’t do that, beomgyu. i won’t accept that. i won’t accept your love just because you feel sorry for me,” you declare, voice cracking as thick, hot tears roll down your cheeks. he’s still speechless, so you somehow find it in yourself to continue.

“i’m not doing this with you right now. call your girlfriend, tell her you’re sorry, and tell her she doesn’t have to worry about me anymore. and even if i’m gone, don’t you dare tell her what you told me today, okay?” and it’s not really an ask as much as a demand. 

“i can’t do that,” he whispers, and you’re not sure if the ache in your heart comes from the briars encircling it or from how pained he looks.

“i know i’m selfish. i know i’m a bastard. but seeing you with yeonjun, or worse, not seeing you at all? that’ll fucking kill me. i just can’t do it. i don’t want to hurt her, but i don’t want to lie to her. or you. or myself,” he says shakily.

“what are you saying?” you ask. this is not how you anticipated things would go. 

“i’m saying that if you leave me, i’ll be sick,” he says shakily. “j-just the thought of that makes me…” and it’s a surprise to the both of you when he coughs like crazy, and it’s to the horror to the both of you when a pretty, blood-stained violet petal escapes his mouth.

“oh god,” you whisper. “you can’t do this.”

“i can’t help it!” he exclaims. “i didn’t know before, but it’s true. i just didn’t realize it. i’m just — i’m just sorry i didn’t realize it.” 

“beomgyu, it’s going to kill her,” you say, dread evident in your tone.

“i know,” he says tearily. “but it’s you. it’s always been you. we can’t change it.” 

“i can’t do this to her. it’s wrong,” is all you can say. 

“i can’t live without you, and you can’t live without me,” he replies. “w-whatever happens, can we please just figure it out together? i don’t think i can handle another day without you. i think it might really kill me.” he pushes your hair off of your sweaty forehead, and you know as you feel your heart lighten that you have no choice. if not for you, then for him. whatever happens with his girlfriend, you will try your damndest to make sure she doesn't have the same fate as the two of you. 

“okay?” he asks. 

“o-okay,” you tell him, because what else is there to say? 

notes pt. 2: lorddd i know this ending will be polarizing but what can we do... it is what it is :(

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[oldfashioned-lovergirl]

Can I request a ff where reader is lewis hamilton's wife. Like they are married and reader is pregnant then lewis made some mistakes that caused them to fight one night. Reader get so angry/sad and it just makes lewis worried so much about her and grovel A LOT. High angst and fluff towards the end would be cute. THANK YOUU

moth to a flame — LH44 x pregnant!reader

tags: jealous!lewis, pregnant!reader, angst, fluff

note: lewis is so the weeknd coded so i’ll name every fics about him as his songs

masterlist

Your birthday party went well. Well, until your ex boyfriend showed up uninvited and Lewis went crazy about it. Apparently he just wanted to say hi, but the night ended with a physical fight.

When you came back home you were so mad you couldn’t look at him in the eyes, nor you could look at his wounded hand or at the cut on his eyebrow.

“Thank you for ruining my birthday.”

“Thank that prick of your ex.”

You threw your purse on the table. “Oh so it was his fault you pushed him first?”

“C’mon Y/N, he was clearly trying to fuck you.”

You turned to him with a disgusted look on your face. “Not even if he was the last man on earth. We were just talking. Can’t I talk to another man now?”

“He was standing way too close for someone who’s aware of your condition. I’m sorry, I saw red.”

Your gaze inevitably shifted down at your own belly. It’s been almost two months since you found out you were pregnant, so it wasn’t quite visible, though you could feel it very well. “And you think getting in the way between you and him couldn’t have hurt the baby?”

The realisation struck Lewis. “Oh my God, are you okay?” He tried to come closer but you stepped back.

“I’m tired of you being jealous of everyone. You’re supposed to trust me, you’re my husband. I…” You sensed tears in your eyes. Damn it, you didn’t want to cry again. “I should feel safe with you but instead I just feel anxious all the time.”

Lewis came close to hug you. “Don’t. Leave me alone.” You fought back, wiping your eyes with your hands, but that just caused him to strengthen the grip on you until you gave up and abandoned you in his arms. There was no point in trying to fight him.

“You’re right, that was stupid, I fucked up your birthday.” He laid a kiss on your forehead, slowly caressing your hair. “I’m gonna take you some water.”

He escorted you on the sofa and brought you a glass of water from the kitchen. He covered you with a blanket and sat next to you. He touched your cheek with his palm while you drank the water and then put it on the table in front of you.

“Better?” He asked.

“Better.” You looked at him. He had that Bambi look in those big brown eyes and trying to resist it was vain.

You suddenly realized his wounds were still hurting. You sighed. “Bring me bandages and something to disinfect that cut.”

“I’m good, I don’t need–“

“Lewis.” You interrupted him firmly.

He stayed silent. He then nodded, stood up and did as you told him. It certainly wasn’t a good time to contradict you.

When he came back on the couch, you began dabbing his face gently with a wad of cotton dipped in the solution. “He was such a dick.”

A corner of his mouth curved in a little agreeing smile. “Indeed he was.”

You carefully put a band-aid on his eyebrow, then proceeded bandaging his hand. He was watching every actions of yours. You understood he was actually sorry for what he did and you couldn’t help but forgive him. His intentions towards you were kind hearted after all.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you. You’re my life. You both are.” His bandaged hand slid down on your belly.

Your hand joined his. “And you’re mine. You know I wouldn’t trade you for anyone else in the world.”

You laid on the couch and he followed you, resting his head on your chest and his body next to yours, careful not to press his weight on your womb.

Your fingers travelled in his soft braided hair. “Besides, there’s nothing about him you should be jealous of. You have everything he doesn’t have.”

“You mean a beautiful wife?”

“I was about to say seven world championships, but I guess a beautiful wife will do as well.”

You both laughed.

He squeezed you more with his arms around your back, turning serious once again. “How are you feeling?” He asked, although he was the injured one.

“Don’t worry, it was nothing.” You stroke his back with your hand. He was so strong, it felt so good having him curled against you like that. You couldn’t imagine anybody else to build a family with.

“I was scared I hurt you. I don’t want to fight. Not only for the baby, I don’t ever want to fight with you.” He kissed your abdomen and buried his face in your neck.

“It’s okay, you could never hurt me.”

[bingoboingobongo]

task force 141 + cuddling

Characters: Simon "Ghost" Riley, John "Soap" MacTavish, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, John Price, Alejandro Vargas, Rodolfo "Rudy" Parra

Warnings: none

A/N: idk if this counts as a holiday hc but idc i wanted to write this. pretend they're wearing christmas pj's idk.

simon "ghost" riley:

alright so when you really get down to it ghost's just a scared guy

i mean not scared in the traditional sense ig but he's pretty paranoid (not that i blame him)

he's definitely the kind of guy that feels pretty vulnerable when he's asleep and because of that (and nightmares) he's never really been a deep sleeper

like he can fall asleep whenever because he's sorta in a state of perpetual tiredness but it's always a super light sleep and he'll wake up at the slightest disturbance (hence the state of perpetual tiredness)

this all culminates into a very specific mindset ghost has when he's sleeping with you

ghost is absolutely petrified of anything happening to you, especially since he can't protect you when he's sleeping, so he's definitely a fan of spooning (with him as the bigger spoon ofc) bc it makes him feel like he's shielding you from harm

he also likes having you so close to him bc one you're nice and warm and two it lets him know your safe

and honestly it's less spooning and more just him trying to cover your entire body with his body

like he will go full on blanket mode

if he could he would just box you in under him and the only reason he doesn't is because he knows he would end up crushing you

he'll hold you really tightly too

like almost squeezing you

and you always think he'll eventually loosen up a little when he falls asleep but he never does

this has two purposes

first is that it keeps you close

and second is that it stops you from moving around excessively

the second one is important especially if you're a chaotic sleeper because he always gets woken up when you move

also he likes having you face him when he sleep so it's sorta like you guys are hugging but sometimes that can get uncomfortable with all the limbs involved

oh yeah he definitely wraps/throws his legs around you in another effort to keep you pinned down

also hot take but he doesn't like being the little spoon

it's too stressful for him because even though he feels protected he feels like you're vulnerable and that's worse

john "soap" mactavish:

alright so starting off soap is a great cuddler

but then as the night progresses... not so much

ik everyone's been saying this but it's because it's the truth

soap is a spreader

no matter what position he starts off in soap will always find a way to spread out

for some reason he also has a tendency to flip over in his sleep a lot

like it always starts out with the him on his back with your head laying on his chest as he rubs circles on your arm and tells you stories about his childhood

and around halfway through the night he might turn over and hug you while he sleeps for a bit

with his arms wrapped around you and your face buried into his chest

but then by the morning

soap is starfished on his belly

one arm is haphazardly thrown across your back/front (depending on how you're sleeping) with one of his legs tangled into yours

lord knows he's drooling too but honestly same

also soap's definitely a blanket stealer but for no reason

like in the middle of the night you'll be waging a war with him for the blanket

just for him to kick it off the bed by morning time

you've tried getting another blanket but it didn't work and he just stole that one too

you're still trying to come up with a better solution

soap also sleeps like but is also weirdly conscious

idk how to phrase it but like it will take everything to wake him up

but also if you even try to sneak the blanket away from him he will know and you will not be able too

also he definitely snores when he sleeps on his stomach sorry

rodolfo "rudy" parra:

ugh rudy my love my precious my darling

rudy lives for cuddles

but he likes to be the cuddled instead of the cuddler

rudy is always down to be the little spoon but honestly that's not really his favorite position

(he almost always has bruises on his side from training so it can be uncomfortable)

instead he likes resting his head on your chest while you sleep

he'll be like half laying on his stomach half laying on you

and he'll tangle his legs into yours and wrap his arm around your stomach

and good god this man will literally spontaneously combust if you play with his hair

pet it, braid it, scratch it

do whatever you want to it he will eat it up

easily the fastest way to get him asleep

he also really loves listening to your heartbeat and syncing his breaths up with yours

it's always so satisfying to hear your heartbeat slow down when you fall asleep

also rudy has like five different blankets on his bed because he's a really cold sleeper

although with you he usually only needs one or maybe two because you're so warm

he's also a surprisingly pretty sleeper

you've been meaning to take a picture but you always forget because for some reason he just has a way of making you sleepy when he lays down on you

he's also a pretty deep sleeper but even then you try not to move because he always looks so happy

sometimes he'll sleep in the crook of your shoulder and then you can turn to face him sometimes

kyle "gaz" garrick:

kyle likes it when you cling onto his side with your arms and legs wrapped around him

he calls you a koala but he will also die if you stop

he just loves seeing you bury your face into his arm

especially with your legs wrapped around his waist

dang he eats it up

sometimes he'll turn to face you so you can cling onto his front

but he is a back sleeper at his core so it works out

he likes to wrap his arms around you and rub circles on your back or play with your hair

and also the smell of your shampoo has pretty much conditioned him to get tired

like there's nothing more relaxing to him than being able to breathe in the scent of your shampoo at night

definitely also whispers random things to you at night

sometimes it's romantic sometimes it's just him going down random tangents until he tires himself out

but it's his favorite part of the day because he gets to have you with him and explore weird thought experiments

sometimes you'll respond but you usually fall asleep pretty quickly he notices

and he definitely has a picture of you wrapped around him as you slept

it's his lock screen on his phone and it always makes him happy

gaz is like a medium deep sleeper

he also somehow stays really still when he sleeps

like he'll go to bed and wake up in the same position

also he always has to keep like one leg out of the blanket or else he gets too hot

john price:

price likes it when you sleep on top of him

like on top on top of him

he wants you to be his personal blanket

he'll cuddle with you this way anywhere too

on the sofa, on the bed, on the floor (?)

(maybe if there's a soft rug or smthing)

he likes to wrap his arms around you and feel you sorta melt into him as you relax

i mentioned smthing in a previous hc about price wanting a weighted heated blanket for christmas

but let's be real

you are the weighted heated blanket

it just makes him feel really secure and protected

and he's holding onto you so he feels like you're safe and protected too

sometimes he wraps a leg around yours too

and yes price is a snorer what can i say

he'll insist he doesn't snore and then let out the most god awful noise you've ever heard

honestly the price girlies are the true heroes for putting up with that

respect.

(i am a price girly too)

alejandro vargas:

alejandro likes the intimacy of cuddling so that's very important

he also likes being the cuddler but he's always down to be the cuddled

he's a fan of the classics like spooning

but usually he prefers a position that's more equal

that's why alejandro loves to fall asleep hugging you with both of you on your sides

maybe your face is buried into his chest and his hand is wrapped around the back of your head

he just likes holding you close to him can you blame him

he definitely plays with your hair too as you sleep

and he loves whispering sweet nothings into your hair as you fall asleep

he's also very physical so he likes to be touching you at all times

generally just a very sweet and considerate lover and cuddler

also he used to be a chronic insomniac before he met you

but feeling how warm you are and hearing you breathe just manages to relax him

so with you he's able to sleep deeply