#like i should not find that mop of hair as attractive as i do and yet...

[yameoto]

HELL IS A (FUCKING) ROOMMATE. JORDAN LI.

synopsis ; your roommate has the libido of a goddamn animal and it's driving you insane. not to mention the fact they have an annoying habit of jerking off in your dorm. to you.

they want you? fine—they can have you. only on your terms, though.

✗ warnings ; dom!reader, sub!jordan. fem!reader, perv!roomate!jordan, dubcon, voyeurism, excessive masturbation (soz). wc ; 4.2k

YOU can do this. you can do this.

you grunt as you fumble for the key. cursing as, with an extreme lack of coordination—you begin to forcibly ram the bloody thing into the lock with the grace and precision of a sledgehammer. what you lack in motor control you make up for with inner beauty—or something.

the do not disturb sign rattles mockingly off the handle, meaning your roommate is definitely inside and definitely not helping out. you grit your teeth, entire body off kilter as you're preoccupied with balancing the boxes cramful of belongings in your arms; big and bulky and absolutely not helping your aim. you curse, loudly as they almost almost tumble out of your grasp the moment the key miraculously jams into place, jerking wildly to catch them. (note: super strength does not come with super-hand-eye-coordination.)

“fucking– stupid- key– fucking better– woah!” 

without warning, the door swings open, inwards. a montage of your entire life flits before your eyes as you hurtle forward, boxes and all. you just about barely manage to catch yourself with an undignified stumble before drawing yourself up; coming face to face with—oh.

two figures. bodies very noticeably.. inside. each other. naked. on, what you realise after a bout of disbelief; your fucking bed.

"what the fuck?"

one of them growls, mop of black hair flopping as their head snaps up, even though you're pretty sure you should be the one slinging expletives around. with a frustrated scowl they pull out of the dude, sending a withering glare to the poor guy they were fucking into the bedspread—to which he.. disappears? glitches out? phases out of existence? because suddenly he’s not there anymore, and you’re stranded alone with a very attractive, very threatening looking college student. 

who is also—uh, very, very naked.

“um, hi–”

“why do you have a key to my fucking dorm?”

oh, shit.

they are, frankly, gorgeous – like, one of the most beautiful people you've ever seen. their hair is black, mussed, and you can’t help the way your gaze follows its way down the threshold of an.. extremely muscled, slick torso before snapping upwards to find a mildly paralysing glare that reminds yourself that you are not in a very good position right now.

“i’m uh- your new.. roommate?'' you don't mean for it to come out like a question, but by the way they're staring down at you like you're a cockroach that just flew onto their windshield, you almost aren't so sure.

"i'm a fucking TA— i don't have roommates." their eyes narrow, which is like—alright, way to be real welcoming.

“i’m a.. last minute transfer..?” you offer, wincing as you meet their stare. their eyes are unflinching, yet still lidded in a post-sex haze. you can feel your body involuntarily holding its breath; though from the steel in their gaze or the way their biceps flex when they run a hand through their dishevelled locks, you can’t tell. 

fuck, you hate hot people.

“oh, yeah. fuck, i forgot about that.” their shoulders slacken, mouth settling into an unimpressed line; which is only slightly more welcoming than the look of murderous intent of two seconds ago. “jordan. jordan li." they say, last name and all—which is how you know they're a prick. "make yourself at home, i guess.” they don’t sound all too enthused as they skirt away from the door, seemingly satisfied with the fact that you're not a home invader—dorm invader? whatever. you just pray that the sigh of relief you breathe isn’t audible.

“great! nice to meet you, i’m–”

“s’on the sheet." jordan cuts in with supreme disinterest as they move across the room, leaning down to pick their boxers from the floor. you’re struck once again with the realisation that they are still fucking naked, and you pointedly tear your eyes away. 

“um, yeah.. hey, uh—what’s your-”

“third year, crime-fighting. don't touch my shit. no pets, obviously. if you have a dog, get rid of it. give it to the animal shelter, don’t care. don’t snoop, don't make a mess, and definitely don’t take off the goddamn do not disturb sign. got it?”

you've barely opened your mouth to reply; probably with something along the lines of what the fuck? or animal shelter? before jordan's already turned away, back muscles flexing as they sink back onto the end of their bed, scrunching their briefs up in one hand and—

“hey, uh,” jordan interjects, turning round with an unreadable expression as they glance down, and like a fucking idiot, you follow; giving you front row seat to the massive, throbbing boner that they’re still sporting—pulsing an angry, flushed red as the tip drools with precum.

“mind if i take care of this? couldn’t exactly finish, if you know what i—”

you slam the door after you, and you swear a snicker follows you down the corridor. 

-

over the next week, it quickly becomes apparent that jordan either a): forgets you live in the same room as them, or b): simply does not care. 

for starters, there’s their apparent aversion to doing laundry until their entire closet is out of commission, the coke stash underneath their mattress and also—oh. their need to get their dick wet at least four times a day. (irrespective of whether they have a dick or not).

“what?” jordan scoffs through a mouthful of cereal. “‘m not lettin’ some fuckin’ freshie cockblock me.”

“i’m a transfer, not a fucking freshman.” you scowl, and jordan’s lips curl to form a lazy little ‘o’. it twitches upwards into that infuriating little smirk, like they enjoy seeing you squirm. 

“whatever. my libido stops for nobody, not even you. besides,” they set their bowl on the bedside table, wagging their fingers suggestively into a ‘V’ shape and licking the air between. "a bigender supe has needs too."

they’re slouching against their headboard, free arm stretching lazily above their head. your cheeks flush traitorously as their biceps flex—muscles visibly popping against their frame “you can just say 'a girl has needs'. i'm not an idiot, i know what you mean." is what you grumble back, if only to ignore the inane, stupid heat pooling in the pit of your stomach. 

"but i have needs when i'm a dude, too." jordan grins, propping themselves up by their elbow, eyes gleaming impishly as they curl their hand into a fist and making a fucking wanking motion over their (currently) non-existent dick. which is—yeah. that pretty much sums up your roommate for you.

the thing is about jordan, is despite all their excessive lockerroom talk and relatively abrasive personality; they’re still rank two in all of godolkin. ergo, they’re a surprisingly busy person; being preoccupied with either studying, sparring or partying ninety of the time. 

thus, like all horny, single college students, when you don’t have time to squeeze a good fuck in, you’re left with second-best option—yourself. this would otherwise be fine, except jordan’s compound v must have seeped through their bloodstream and into their libido because jesus fucking christ are they horny.

it’s not like they make an effort of hiding it, either. they seem to have zero qualms about rolling out of bed, morning wood popping out from their briefs like a fucking beacon. 

“oh, shit,” jordan yawns when slide the covers off, giving way to the immense boner throbbing against their boxer-briefs. they don’t even have the decency to look sheepish when they walk past you, adjusting themselves lazily. you don’t miss the grunt of relief that escapes them as their hand palms their crotch before they disappear into the bathroom, either. or the little groans of relief that sound behind the door before they saunter out, towelling their hands with the stupidest grin on their face.

it shouldn’t piss you off as much as it does, except for the fact that even when jordan rouses without morning wood (or wood in general); they end up making their usual bathroom trip anyways. noises slipping from a half-ajar door and toilet lid left slippery, as always. 

they have to be doing it on purpose. they have to be. like, they left their strap-on on your desk once. which, first of all, gross. second of all, why was it so fucking big?

“jordan!” you holler, aghast as you nudge the thing on your desk, conveniently placed right next to your laptop.

“oh! that’s where i left it. sick.” jordan grins as they saunter over, veined hands reaching over to wrap around the shiny, plastic length and fuck, since when were their palms so massive—

“thanks, roomie.” they ruffle your hair with an impish glint in their eyes, smile only growing when you jerk away with a scowl. 

and that’s not even the worst of it.

“oh, shit—was that yours?” to their credit, jordan looks somewhat sheepish as they pinch a rock-hard pair of socks off the floor. your fucking socks, which have clearly been well-loved and cared for in places other than your shoes. 

“those were my favourite!” they weren’t your favourites. they’re socks. however, it makes jordan wince, which almost makes it worth it. 

hey, a little remorse is better than nothing. 

“..i’ll buy you a new pair?” jordan offers, scratching the nape of their neck. you’re almost content to let the awkwardness linger just give them just a piece of the torture you’ve been subjected to for the past several weeks — except the sliver of satisfaction is completely negated by the way jordan’s lip twitches upwards, like they’re fighting back a smirk.

“you little fuck—“

anyways, the point is jordan wanks. a lot. 

you can’t stop thinking about it. because it’s annoying. and disrespectful. and god, do they think you want to hear every pretty little moan that falls from their mouth? every grunt and groan that slips from their throat in that raspy, godforsaken timber— 

long story short; if you have to find a wadded up sock or sticky residue at the bottom of the computer desk one more time, you’re going to lose it. 

you think jordan knows it, too.

-

it’s midnight when you wake up to the sound of a bed creaking.

you’re an early sleeper, jordan isn’t. it works. you’re typically long knocked out before they even make it back in the dorm, out there doing god knows what. today, though, you’d far overestimated your ability to finish your latest assignment; so when jordan finally staggered through the door, slumping into bed with a little grunt, you thought nothing of it.

minutes pass, and the bed shifts. jordan groans. under the moonlight you can see the shadowed visage of their figure, splayed out on their bed with one hand underneath the covers; moving, repeatedly.

jordan grunts again, and you squint; bleary eyes adjusting to the darkness. the muffled, wet sound of slapping resounds, subdued by the weight of the blanket. if you didn’t know better, you’d think they were—

“mm, fuck—” jordan moans, blanket slipping down their hips and—oh my fucking god.

like pulling back a curtain, jordan’s cock springs enthusiastically to the surface; standing tall and proud as their fist pumps up and down the thick, veined girth of their length. it’s practically pulsating with need, bordering on desperate—they must be desperate, because jordan’s shameless, sure, but.. jacking off in the same room as you? 

you didn’t think they were that much of a fucking perv.

but maybe you’re a perv too, because the moment jordan’s hips rock upwards and their tip glimmers in a thick sheen of pre-cum; you can feel the telltale surge of heat in your stomach, the fabric of your panties dampening and oh, this can’t seriously be happening right now.

“fuck—motherfucker..” jordan hisses, drawing your bleary-eyed gaze from the flushed, throbbing bob of their cock to their pink cheeks and fucked-out face, mouth lolling in pleasure. they twist their head, nosing into something tossed onto their pillow that makes you stop in their tracks.

that’s.. you thought you lost that!

“need ‘m—so—fucking bad..” jordan slurs stiltedly, nuzzling into your shirt like their life depends on it. “fuckin’—stupid fucking—”

your stomach tightens, and you can’t help it when your fingers dip down under your shorts, slipping into your cunt. you should be mad, should be disgusted, should be shoving open the door and ripping them out of their covers and.. wrapping your mouth around their adorably flushed tip? seizing their hips and yanking their cock into your tight, wet little—

"oh, fuck," jordan interrupts your thought process by growling through their teeth, precum spilling from the slit of their dick and glazing their palms. there’s so much of it, so wet that even in the dark you can see the stain pooling in their sweatpants, their bedsheets. 

you’re so entranced you barely even register when it when their grip releases; length arcing and splattering thick ropes of cum against their abdomen. the sight is so mesmerising that you almost don’t pick up on the sound of your fucking name that tears out of their throat—husky and half gargled as jordan’s chest heaves. you don’t even realise you’ve been holding your breath until jordan’s figure simply lays there, pants echoing in the silent room. 

they wrap your shirt around their dick and wipe it clean. it’s only when they murmur something unintelligible—burying their nose back into your jumper that you finally, finally turn away, fingers curling deep inside your cunt.

fucking hell.

-

the second time it happens, you are wide, wide awake. which unfortunately means you have no excuse for the minutes seared into your memory and sticky residue on your thighs.

granted, at first you didn’t know. as always, the bathroom door hangs carelessly agape. steam curls from the room, wafting up and dispersing in the stuffy dorm air. what lingers, however, is the fresh note of jordan’s shampoo, body wash, and something.. saltier, headier.

whatever. with nothing more than an arched brow, you pick over the discarded basketball shorts and tank tops that litter the floor, intending to kick the bathroom door shut and be on your way. it’s when your hand reaches out, closing around the cool metal that you see it.

jordan’s slumped against the slick shower wall, fingers buried knuckle-deep into their pussy.

oh, shit shit shit—

“shit..” jordan hisses, muscles working like well-oiled sprigs as they pump into their cunt, droplets of water trickling down their skin and pooling into the divots of their body. 

your hand tightens around the doorknob. god, their moans.. if they think the sound of the showerhead can disguise the filthy nothings spilling out of their mouth, they are very, very wrong. 

somewhere between the fuck’s and annoying’s and pretty fuckin’ prude’s their full-weight crumples against the shower wall, plush ass pressing up against steaming glass like some (high-quality) porn ad as they ram their fingers in one last time, free hand shooting out wildly to grasp at nothing before the shower wall splatters with something you only catch a glimpse of before you’re slamming the bathroom door, cheeks burning and fingers trembling. with a start, you realise you’ve almost wrenched the goddamn metal off.

the doorknob is always a little bit loose, after that. 

-

you’re getting ready for a party.

well, you’re supposed to be getting ready for a  party, hence the sultry eyeshadow, glossy press of your lips and sheer amount of skin laid bare. your crop-top is just a little bit too high, mini-skirt more than a little too short.

in reality? you’re enacting your fucking vegeance.

jordan likes you. it’s a fact that stares you right in the face. and if not a crush, it’s a massive, raging hard-on. for you—only you—citing a certain roommate’s post-nut ramblings you’ve heard one too many times. 

as it turns out, jordan becomes considerably less insufferable when you know you’re the only thing that gets their dick wet.

“how do i look?” you call, doing a little twirl. it’s impossible to keep the smirk off your face, skirt flipping very purposely upwards as you spin, revealing a tad more than they ever (usually) get to see. 

jordan glances up, and their breath fucking hitches.

bingo.

“what?” you cock your head, lashes batting innocuously as they stare. playing the oblivious role is just too sweet, especially when your eyes flicker down, just for a moment, and you can see the bulge in their sweatpants growing.

poor little jordan, hard because their roommate flashed a millisecond of ass.

“you look—good.” they grunt, tone carefully measured. their gaze lingers, only for another moment before they abruptly snap their vision back to their screen. an admirable effort, really. if only their cheeks were a little less red, cock a little less needy.

“well don’t flatter me too much,” you twist away, lips twitching upwards. feigning normalcy is easy, seeing as how you’ve been doing so ever since that first night. you're practically buzzing with anticipation when you make a big show of leaving the room, snarky comment and all.

and really, jordan could've waited for longer than two minutes before moaning that raspy, broken moan (you're so intimately familiar with) from behind the door.

your lips split into a grin, and when you slide the door back open, the look on jordan's face is so priceless you hope it'll be seared into your memory forever.

“shit!"

it’s undeniable, this time. you’re no longer a fly on the wall, and they’re no longer blanketed by the illusion of secrecy; caught red-handed with their cock in their fist and head on your pillow.

“wait—fuck—i can expl—!”

like clockwork, jordan's cock twitches as if in reaction, and a drop of fresh semen spurts from their tip before trickling down to join the messy puddle on their stomach. 

“i thought—fuck! you said you were going!” 

“that doesn’t sound like an apology to me.” 

you delight in the way jordan flushes, their breath hitching. they take a ragged breath before they make a valiant attempt to cover up their falter with aggression. "doesn't mean anything," they retort through gritted teeth, mustering up as much conviction as they can. 

it’s adorable, how much they pretend they don’t want you as if they don’t jack off to the smell of your sweatshirt every night. 

“shut the fuck up.” you roll your eyes, novelty of the movement finally wearing thin. you have needs too—and with a fluid movement, you slide onto the bed and yank their hips against yours, pulling them into a straddle over your torso.

jordan can't help but hiss at the sudden contact, hips jerking instinctively. "fuck, you're cold," they mutter under their breath, though there's no denying the thrill running through them; hips bucking forward into the touch of your cool fingers as they wrap around their hard member. it feels euphoric—the contrast between your heat and coldness heightening every single nerve ending in their body. the tip of their cockhead brushing against your belly button, dripping a thin line of hot, sticky fluid after it.

“go on.” you coo, eyebrows raised. 

jorda’s hands fly almost immediately to the hem of your skirt. so eager, like an impatient puppy. 

 before you curl your hand around their wrist, grip firm and punishing. 

they freeze, head cocking like a confused puppy. “huh?” they say, biting back a noise of complaint. they want you so bad its goddamn gruelling; their fingers twitching around nothing, screaming in impatience, let me fuck you, let me ruin you already. don’t you know how long i’ve been waiting? how long you’ve kept me fucking waiting?

of course you know. they don’t know that, though. 

“you’re not gonna do anything?” despite all their irritating, fratboy-esque bravado; jordan’s unable to prevent the whininess from seeping into their tone, hands tugging insistently at the hem of your skirt. their cock pulses, painful and needy.

“you have hands, don’t you?” your lips quirk at the way jordan’s expression drops and their mouth opens again, probably to protest until you yank their thighs open and press them forward, dick pressing flush against your torso. 

"unnhnnngh.." jordan grunts, gasping for air while trying to maintain eye contact with you—an impossible task considering how goddamn desperate they are. their free hand grabs hold of your waist, grinding sloppily as precum spurts all over your chest. “f-fuck off," they hiss, lips crashing against yours, teeth knocking at their eagerness.

“goddamn tease—” they groan, rutting against your torso, to no avail. they bury their face into your collar, utterly miserable, fingers twisting into the hem of your shirt. “just get the fuck on with it—ahnnn.. f-fuck—”

“so mouthy,” you tease, delighted at the mewl that slips past jordan’s lips when your hand wraps around their tip. their chain necklace swings wildly, bucking their hips desperately into your fist.

“hands feel so fuckin’ good,” jordan sputters, drooling almost as much as their dick is. their fumbling grasp finds purchase in your shoulders as they pump themselves into your hand; you barely even have to move, with them doing most of the work.

“need to be— inside—“ jordan grunts; glassy eyes blinking down at you like it’ll change your mind just like that. it’s cute, how they look when they’re not scowling or fucking smirking at you. it’s even cuter, the way they inhale sharply when you shake your head and deliver a cool “no, baby,” their back arching when you cup one of their balls and squeeze, forced into dismal acceptance with a keening whine. 

jordan’s movements are getting unsteady, now. eyes glazing over by the second. “y’gonna make me cum,” they slur, grip on your hips tightening. it only takes a moment before their movements stutter and they’re muttering “fuck fuck fuck oh, fuck!“ and a long, gargled moan rips from their throat and all of a sudden hands wrapped around cock are sinking in wet, sloppy heat; your fingers sliding knuckle-deep into their pussy with almost breath-taking ease.

“jesus christ!” jordan croons in sheer, unexpected pleasure as they feel you shove yourself inside them, cum spurting and squeezing out helplessly from between their walls and your fingers. they squirt so fucking messily, their leaking cock replaced by a cunt spilling out out all over your palm. 

“i didn’t—didn’t mean to—” they slur, panic two steps behind their mouth. struggling to sling anything coherent together with you kneading your fingers into their pussy like its goddamn putty. “oh?” you arch a brow, and jordan visibly flushes, moaning openly when your digits curl.

“can’t–don’t really—”

“what? fuck yourself?” is your reply, because you both know they fucking do; it’s not like you don’t how their pussy sounds when it’s sliding slick against their pillow, how your name sounds cried out, thick through the muzzle of your jumper.

it’s a dual guilty pleasure—you watch, they do. at this point, you can’t tell who’s the more perverted out of the two of you.

jordan. definitely jordan. 

“too busy humping my clothes, is that it?” you purr, and jordan honest to god whimpers, squirming away from your fingers both out of overstimulation and plaintive shame. “ah, ah,” you tut, nails digging into their hips as you hold them in place, finger thumbing harshly against their clit as they cry out a gargled moan. 

“f-fuck off—” jordan hisses, practically an admission of guilt itself. they seem to know it, too, with the way they abandon all pretence and pound violently against your knuckles—their gaze burning into yours like they’re daring you to say another word. “don’t act like you didn’t—shit—fucking like it.” jordan gasps out between sputters, teetering on the edge of another orgasm.

“hm?” you pause, eyes meeting jordan’s heated, quivering stare. “jerk off to watching me?” they choke, eyes glossing over when you thrust “did you fuck yourself to my—mmhnn—!” 

an easy, all-too-familiar eye roll graces your face before you shut them up with your fingers. their pussy clenches; hot, slippery walls gripping your digits as if afraid to let go. oh, this is too easy.

“don’t get cute with me, roomie.” the nickname tastes sweet on your tongue, and jordan’s face grows hotter. a well-timed thumb to their clit flickers their bravado out like a light. “fucking hell!” they gasp, mouth gaping into a moan and eyes rolling back into their skull.

“you wanted me to watch, didn’t you?” you coo, and jordan squirms; mouth open in protest—or at least attempts at them, what with the way they keep gasping out in pleasure as you roll your fingers against their clit. 

“shut the fuck—i didn’t—”

“a pervert and a liar now, are we?”

jordan makes a noise somewhere between a hiss and a whine, crying out when you slide two more fingers into the slick canal of their core. their eyes screw shut, hands seizing so wildly into the mattress you almost think they’re about to tear a hole through the bedsheets.

“god! fuck—i can’t—”

they cry out your name when they cum, and even if its a sound you’ve heard countless times by now you don’t think it’ll ever get old. “that’s it, baby.” you coo, lips curling upwards at the way they bury their face into your collar.

they lie there, panting, for what feels like forever before a muffled, half-delusional groan leaves their lips.

“oh, fuuuckk..”

“what?”

“..i thought i would top.”

[gabessquishytum]

University au where now that Dream is in university, he's not under the direct supervision of his shitty parents, so what they did was that they basically forced Dream to be roommates with someone of their choosing. I can't decide if Dream should be trans in this au, cause if he is trans, his parents probably would pick Thessaly to be his roommate. If he's not trans, then Alexander Burgess. If it's Alex, then Dream's family has known and trusted the Burgesses for years, and so can rely on Alex to spy on Dream. If it's Thessaly, I think they'd just pay her to spy on Dream.

Dream is not happy about this. It starts out fine, except for the fact that he knows that his roommate is an attempt on his parent's part to control him, which bothers him a lot. But it starts out fine. But then the roommate never leaves him alone. The roommate clearly wants to be friends, Dream is not interested in friends of his parent's choosing.

Enter Hob, who has seen Dream day after day dealing with someone who doesn't seem to be able to take a hint that Dream wants to be left alone, if it's Alex. Or if it's Thessaly, he's overheard her talking to Dream about "those transgenders" and Dream, who very much looks like the stereotype of a pre-t trans guy, looks very much uncomfortable. Either way, Hob is tired of seeing Dream bothered by this person who Dream clearly wants nothing to do with.

So one day, he manages to catch Dream alone while his roommate is in the bathroom or something, and invites Dream to join him for lunch.

Of course, Dream warns him that he won't be good company, but Hob just smiles and says that he expects that Dream would be better company than the person who clearly can't take the hint that Dream doesn't want to talk to them. If it's Thessaly, Dream just says darkly "oh she can take a hint, she's just been paid off by my parents"

Hob is even more sure that he wants Dream to join him for lunch, so Dream agrees on the condition that they go somewhere where Thessaly or Alex can't find them

From there, Hob, who conveniently doesn't have a roommate practically lets Dream move in. Together they manage to formulate a plan so that Dream doesn't go insane from his terrible roommate, but also his parents don't realize that Dream has thwarted them, although, if Dream is trans in this, then they'll figure it out soon enough when he starts T. But Hob and Dream get up to a bunch of shenanigans to trick and prank Dream's roommate, and fall for each other in the process.

Dream went to college expecting that he'd only be there for his studies, but he's not upset with how it turned out cause now he has a boyfriend. And Hob is very glad that he approached Dream that first time he caught Dream alone.

🪐

I LOVE the idea of trans!Dream managing to absolutely fuck over his parents and the dreaded Thessaly. I definitely think this should be t4t dreamling, btw. Hob is a proud trans man who's been receiving gender affirming care for a while, so he has all kinds of knowledge and tips for Dream. Plus Dream looks at him like 😍😍😍 with 50% attraction, 50% gender envy. Hob is so gorgeous and confident, he makes Dream dare to hope that there's a better future out there for him.

Hob spend many happy hours making Thessaly run in circles and pulling various pranks on her while Dream holes up in the safely of Hob’s room, enjoying his first few weeks on T without even having to worry about Thessaly reporting to his parents. Hob does all kinds of stuff with a "Dream dummy" that he put together, it has a big mop of black hair and Hob sets it up in bed, in the bathroom, in random places so Thessaly either a) thinks it's Dream or B) gets majorly jumpscared.

The summer after their first year of uni, Dream moves in with Hob for the summer. His parents think that he's doing some internship thing, but he's actually hanging out in Hob’s home village, being doted on by Hob’s parents. Oh, and he gets top surgery. His parents are going to be sooooo mad - but Dream feels truly free of them for the first time ever. He has Hob, and most of all he has himself. And he knows that he's going to make it <3

[yacinthemorning]

Tailored to Your Liking

Chapter 5

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Summary: Tumble Town attracts all sorts of misfits looking for a fresh start on the frontier, but everyone still needs clothes. Be it extra limbs or high temperatures, Jimmy caters to every hybrid's needs.

Ships: Jimmy/Tango (slow burn romantic), Grian/Mumbo/Scar (romantic), Joel/Lizzie (romantic)

Warnings: Implied traumatic events, awkward flirting

Typically, Jimmy had learned over the past years, carrots could be harvested a few weeks before the sweet potatoes. This year, however, would not give him a break. Late planting, no sun, and then too much sun, gophers, and finally just plain bad luck with growth. He glared down at the pathetic yellow vegetable, hardly two inches in length compared to its towering leaves.

It would be his luck, after he’d bragged about his carrot cake to his house guest, for this to happen. Of course, he could always buy carrots from Martyn, but that wasn’t the point. Jimmy sighed, rolling back onto his behind to stare up at the sky. Did he leave them be and hope they grew a bit more into a usable size? Harvest them anyways? They couldn’t all be so small. There was no harm in leaving roots in the ground, though, if not for the gophers.

The back door swung open, letting out a puff of smoke. Said puff of smoke coughed and shook, until a face blinked out at Jimmy. “Oh, there you are!” Tango chirped.

“What did you do? I hope you didn’t get any of that in my workshop.” Jimmy clambered back up onto his feet, picking up the watering can on his way. Tango shook most of his soot off like a dog before Jimmy was able to slap the dipped kerchief onto his cheek. The blazeborn yelped, hair flickering from the shock and turning the liquid into steam. Jimmy didn’t stop until at least his face was cleared. “Look at you, it’s like you never left the mines.” He huffed.

“A minor incident may have occurred while doing some repairs.” His muffled voice explained while he tried to bat Jimmy away. “But it’s fine, I swear!” He managed to wrestle the cloth away to finish his own cleaning.

Jimmy laughed, “If you plan on working with heavy machinery you should go to a forge.”

“I wasn’t! I was just trying to reshape a part in something hot. See, Scott at the parlour gave me this ice-cream maker that wouldn’t crank, and while I was repairing it I noticed this one piece-”

“Where on earth- Tango did you use my stove for your metal work?”

Tango hunched over with a guilty grin. Jimmy groaned, rushing inside to make sure there was no major damage. His stove was open, a pair of iron tongs left half inside, with a rapidly cooling hunk of metal sitting on a brick on his stovetop. Most of the soot seemed to have wound up on Tango, both to Jimmy’s relief and annoyance. He spun around, hands on hips, and glared. “Are you daft?”

“Look, see, it’s not that bad-”

“You could have burnt the house down!”

“I took the necessary precautions! I just needed to reshape a small piece.”

“Then why didn’t you simply- you know?” He flicked his wrist and Tango’s sparking hair.

Tango’s face twisted, grabbing the hem of his shirt and fanning it. “Because the whole- you know?”

It was certainly rude, but Jimmy supposed the man knew more about his own flames than an avian. With a conceding wave, Jimmy groaned and began walking towards the cleaning closet. “See here, just…” He grumbled to himself as he tried to pull the mop out, only to find it caught on something out of sight. Just his luck. “If you’re going to be doing metalwork and the like then at least build a shed or something for it in the yard.” What all did such a task need? He didn’t know and he didn’t especially care at the moment. Maybe when he calmed down he’d happily listen to an explanation, but right now he was trying to keep his heart from beating out of his chest.

So busy attempting to untangle the mop, Jimmy failed to notice the silence behind him. Not until he’d turned to his companion in search of absent assistance and was instead met with wide, red eyes. Something like wonder swam in them, along with far too many other emotions that made Jimmy tense up in his confusion. “You would let me build that?”

An ‘ of course? ’ nearly fell from his lips without thought, before he absorbed Tango’s words. Before it occurred to him the implications of his own. 

Many things in Jimmy’s home had changed in the past two months. A sewing machine and new lights were gifts. Redstone tools and work boots filled spaces that had been empty before and could be emptied at any point. The extra seating in his shop and the new bed in a guest room which was formerly storage were accommodations for a second presence, but they were without character.

But a work shed…

Feathers raised on end. He turned away, focusing back on the mop, though he suddenly felt the energy to clean abandon him. “Or at least go to Impulse’s if you intend to blow up an oven.” He said instead of any of the thoughts darting around his mind. He was not his brother, he was most certainly not his brother. “I’d rather keep my house.”

Tango gaped like a fish, ready to say something, but ultimately snapped shut. He walked up, giving a small nod for Jimmy to step out of the way, and bent down into the closet. Within a few seconds the mop was in his hands and the door was closed. “I’ll clean up.”

Jimmy took a deep breath. “Okay.” A tightness encased his chest. There wasn’t time to think about it. He needed to finish gardening, then he needed to put the last touches on Lizzie’s dress before she picked it up tomorrow. Then-

“Hey, Jim?” Tango called just as the avian reached the back door. “I need to go pick some redstone up from Joe for a job.” His tail twitched, “Do you need anything?”

“Just… Pick up my order from him. And ask him when the next train shipment will be in.” Jimmy said, nearly too quiet, pulling his wings in close to his back. “It should have your nether fabrics.”

-

Woven straw thudded hard against the wood bar counter from the weight of the raw redstone and metal plates within. Tango’s forehead followed, groan escaping as he wrapped his arm around his face. Cold seeped into his skin from the wood for a brief moment before his own high body temperature heated it faster than it could cool him.

Heavy steps approached, and a glass was placed down next to his elbow. “Rough day already? It’s only noon.”

Tango lifted his head just enough to pout at Impulse, who smiled back. He grabbed the glass given, to discover it was only seltzer. Of course his friend would be responsible when he least wanted it. His face twisted. “I think I upset Jimmy.”

“Oh no, what did you do to the poor fellow this time?” There was more amusement than anything in his voice.

“I might have used his oven as an impromptu forge.”

“Tango!”

“It wasn’t that bad!” He knew he couldn’t defend his poor choices. “I just wanted to get the job done as quickly as possible.”

Impulse’s expression softened before he turned back to cleaning a plate, tail sweeping up in sympathy. The saloon was practically empty at this hour, all the miners back to work and most everyone else busy for another few hours. Skizz was off collecting from the brewery and Zed had run off after some bird he’d seen, leaving the two men alone. Thank the heavens, because Tango wasn’t sure he could deal with their energy at the moment. Once Impulse set the plate aside, he asked, “How much do you have saved up now?”

“Not enough.” Was the only real answer. “Less than I made at the mine in a month, and it’s not exactly reliable. I need to find a real job.”

Impulse hummed, glancing down at his bar. “You know if I could only afford it, I’d hire you.”

“I know you would, buddy.” He sighed, leaning back. “And no one wants another redstoner with Mumbo in town, not when they barely need one. The options out here are somehow both limitless and incredibly limited.”

“You could become a rancher.”

“And compete with Beef?” Tango threw his hand in the air, raised his eyebrow. “The man feeds this and every town within several days travel twice over. Best I could do is beg him to be one of his cowboys, and that ain’t exactly better than the mines pay-wise.”

“Then what about a bandit?” Impulse joked.

“Right, yeah. Because I’d be great with a gun, and I don’t personally know bounty hunters who could hog tie me before I ever sniffed a single copper.”

The two men had a good chuckle simply imagining it before the bar fell silent again. Tango fiddled with the seltzer, taking a small sip now again, mulling over his situation in his head over and over. “Maybe I should just go and beg Fwhip for my job back.”

The last clean plate was placed away, and Impulse turned his full attention onto his friend. “Even if he agreed, then you’d just be back in their barracks, wouldn’t you?” He tilted his head with a knowing smile. “You might as well move back east and get yourself an engineering job at a factory.”

Tango turned away, hiding his warming face behind his palm. “Shut it. It’s not like I can live with Jimmy forever, anyways.”

“You might, if you stopped fooling around and properly courted the fellow.”

“But that’s part of the problem!” He hissed, pushing out of the chair to throw his hands out further. “I can’t just court someone I’m leeching from. Jimmy’s real kind, but he ain’t stupid enough to accept a beggar relying on his money and home, who almost blew up his kitchen. Even a blind man can see how bad that looks.”

Impulse shook his head and dipped into a cupboard. “Well, it’s better than being a gambler or an alcoholic.”

“Setting the bar real high for me, there.” Tango slumped against the bar, glaring at his friend’s back. “One step above rock bottom. Real catch I am.”

“Downright irresistible.” A small bag was placed on the counter in front of the blazeborn. Though full, it gave way easily, and Tango suspected he knew its contents before Impulse explained. “Before you go, would you mind asking Jimmy to alter these before the dinner party? Skizz and I ordered them by catalogue but there wasn’t an option for tail or wing accommodations.”

A common story, Tango had come to learn. Catalogues often had several options for measurements and colours, but couldn’t be bothered to offer even the slightest alterations to the actual patterns. Not when they were paying some poor homebody copper on the diamond to make several a day. Normally most folks would do such small alterations themselves on work clothes. Impulse was never one too good with a needle and thread, however, and for such nice clothing it was best to leave it to Jimmy. Tango collected both the bag and grocery basket, downed the last of his seltzer, and dropped a copper before heading out. “I’ll see what he can do.”

“Don’t worry so much about Jimmy.” Said Impulse as he left. “You know he doesn’t see it that way. Take his advice and focus on getting things together. I’m sure there’s a place for you in town, whatever you want to do.”

If only life were that kind.

-

Jimmy had made an irreparable mess of everything.

That was the conclusion he’d come to after all these hours alone. He’d made a fool of himself making a fool of Tango and chased him off for good. Shown his true colours. Chosen his house over his housemate. All but told him to pack his bags and get out over nothing, he’d be surprised if he bothered to return. Which, in all fairness, it seemed he wouldn’t be, given how long it’d been since he left. It didn’t take three hours to shop, did it? 

Well, perhaps on occasion it did, but it wasn’t as though Tango had a long list when he left. A list that, at Jimmy’s request, included the task of checking to see how much longer Tango would be in his hair. No, he had certainly made an utter mess of it all.

It was evening when Tango returned, around when Jimmy was thinking of closing up and returning to his living room to wallow in his idiocy. “I’m back.” Tango declared, distracted with balancing his acquisitions. Jimmy placed down the pattern he was cutting to rush over and help just in time before a case perched precariously fell to its doom. A true heroic moment, given the amazingly tiny gears it was filled with, spotted when they had everything placed down on the table and Tango checked it hadn’t broken open. 

Jimmy didn’t bother peeking at the rest, collecting the few vegetables bought and bringing them to his cleaned kitchen. By the time he returned Tango was already sorting his redstone into the small workspace Jimmy had afforded him. His face had screwed up in concentration. A tension hung in the air for too long, Jimmy’s feathers raised on end as he waited for Tango’s usual chatter. It didn’t appear it would come. “You’re a bit later than I expected, honestly.” Stuttered Jimmy.

Tango wiped his redstone-stained hands on his pants. “I ran into Cleo on my way home. There was something jammed in her printing press. Turned out to be a frog she accidentally gazed at.” There was no need for proof, but Tango produced the small stone frog with a grin. It was, admittedly, very cute. Jimmy let his shoulders ease some, which Tango took unfortunate notice of. “What? Did… Did I miss supper?” 

“No! No, I haven’t even started yet, honestly.” Jimmy assured, reminded once again of his carrot-predicament. “It, um, we’ll actually not be having cake today either. An issue came up with… ingredients.”

He got an odd look, but eventually Tango shrugged it off. “So, what’s wrong, then?” Tension now built in the blazeborn as well, his tail jerking in agitation.

Well, there was nothing else he could do now. Jimmy had been building up the nerves ever since he checked the kitchen and found it spotless. More honestly, it had been mulling in the back of his mind since he last saw Tango. Thoughts that had distracted him while doing careful work and forced him on his feet to pace out the stress. Grian always said he had a habit of shoving his foot in his mouth, but Jimmy never felt so painfully aware of it until now.

“Jimmy?”

He took a deep breath. “I wanted to apologize for shouting at you this morning. I was just… No, I shouldn’t have. There’s no excuse for you to be treated that way.”

Tango’s eyes widened in shock. “Wh- No! What are you talking about, I completely deserved it?”

But Jimmy shook his head, wringing his hands nervously. Oh, he couldn’t keep still. “You absolutely did not. I panicked and didn’t listen to you. I…” He swallowed. I don’t want you to leave. How could he say that? Or any of the other thoughts that had built themselves into mountains in his mind through the day, only to crumble into nonsense now that Tango was here in front of him again? He closed his mouth before he could humiliate himself.

“I’m the one who should apologize.” Tango said weakly. He put down the frog and approached. “You’ve done so much for me, and all I’ve done is dick around, distract you, and make a mess of your house.”

“I like your mess.” The words tumbled out of Jimmy’s mouth before he could stop them. Every pin feather on his head raised, the skin under turning bright red. The universe truly despised him today.

Tango seemed unsure how to react, a nervous laugh replacing whatever he intended to say. He took his time pulling himself back together, a period in which Jimmy only marginally managed to recover himself, and walked back to the table. “I, um, got your order. And Impulse asked me to bring these suits for you to modify before the party.” He rambled, messing with the edge of the cloth.

Jimmy could work with that. He took a deep breath and let his mind shift back into work mode. “Let me see.” The clothes were laid out, both looking over what needed to be done. “Well, alterations for tails is the most common I’ve had to do, after wings.” He mused aloud, tugging at the fabric. “But if it’s for formal-wear we should make it as presentable as possible.”

Tango’s tail curled around himself, bending awkwardly to try looking at his own work pants. “You just leave a gap in the top of the seam, don’t you?”

“For your tail, perhaps.” Jimmy reached out and tugged between two fingers at the tufted end when it waved past. An affronted squeak escaped the blazeborn, his tail yanking itself away from the light grip. “It’s so thin, you don’t have to worry about your undergarments sticking out, or an embarrassment while removing them. You could have a tail sleeve if you wanted to be especially unfashionable.” He chuckled at the mental image. “Impulse’s tail is considerably thicker and less flexible, however. And those scales of his love to catch on delicate fabrics like this. It’d be best to give him a button clasp.”

“Having to make such completely different adjustments even for the exact same limb…” Tango groaned. “You’re a saint.”

“It seems like much more work when you’re unfamiliar with it.” He waved him off, reaching for the needle he’d had Mumbo modify for undoing stitches. It was so far and above using a random needle or razor. Invaluable in this day and age of mail order and mass production, but Mumbo had insisted it was a silly little gift and turned his attention to his more ridiculous inventions, in Jimmy’s humble opinion. Perhaps some other folks could stand to be a bit more reverent about Jimmy’s work like Tango, actually, or at least offer some respect. “Much of tailoring is the same task in different shapes and combinations.”

Impulse had always had similar issues with clothing as Tango- that is, the acidity in the oils from his scales loved to eat through most fibres, so his selection was limited. Wool was the best common option, of which the jacket was at least made of. Better than attempting to find Void-sourced leathers. Trousers, and the base of the tail especially, were vulnerable to deterioration and staining due to direct contact without the protection of undergarments. Jimmy contemplated if he should line it, or if it would ruin the quality. He was no high-end suit maker who confidently placed his stitching on display to the world, and he likely lacked matching material. At least he was not tasked with making hats for the drake.

He moved on to Skizz’s suit. It would be much easier despite requiring entirely new openings. Though he was not an avian, his flightless wings were feathered like theirs, only requiring minor adjustments to accommodate their motions. There was little he could do to get around the awkward way they would distort the outfit’s silhouette when in motion, the current popular fashions were not made with winged folk in mind.

“It seems crazy, with how many there are.” Tango mused, and only then did Jimmy realize he’d been narrating his thoughts while he worked. A habit he’d grown over the last several weeks.

“Yes, well, numbers aren’t especially meaningful when it comes to setting trends. It’s not the common man on the plates they display in advertisements and magazines. It’s required to look presentable, even if their form cannot fit.”

Tango’s tail twitched, his head tilting to the side. “You know, sometimes you talk like you aren’t much of a fan of your work.”

“I love my work.” Jimmy quickly defended, placing the suit back down. “It’s simply frustrating attempting to modify clothes like this to accommodate everyone it was not made for, rather than creating clothes made for them. Most people aren’t brave enough to wear something that might stand out, and I can’t blame them. You would think living all the way out here might help with that, but ‘polite society’ finds its way everywhere it seems.”

Truthfully, he had only occasionally had such thoughts until recently. Most often while working on preparing the patterns for when Tango’s fabrics got in, which had leaked into his time working on Lizzie’s gown, then retroactively in quiet moments when contemplating the work he’d done for Bigb and Ren. Tango had said so himself, Nether clothing had been draped. Why didn’t he make something similar?

Perhaps he’d taken it a bit to heart recently.

Which reminded him…

“You collected my order from Joe?” He asked. Tango perked up and ran over to the cabinet. He brought over a set of vibrant wool fabrics, placing them down spread out across the desk. Jimmy’s wings fluttered behind him.

A rich violet was lifted up by Tango. “I’m surprised you could afford these. I thought this type of thing was expensive?”

“Normally, yes.” Jimmy admitted, sorting through the shades. “These are new, though, made with a special dye. They call this one mauveine.”

Surprisingly, Tango’s eyes shone with recognition and excitement. “Oh, that was in the newspapers and magazines a few years ago. They created it accidentally from aniline. The first of its kind, they’ve started trying to make all sorts of dyes synthetically from aniline now.”

“Yes.” Jimmy replied, a bit dumbfounded. “Well, it’s becoming quite popular, and more than a few people in town are fond of these bright colours. I bought a few I could find to try.”

“They’re the way of the future.”

“That’s what Mumbo says.” He rubbed his thumb into the fabric, eyeing it with suspicion. “I’m not so sure, though. I’ve heard they fade quickly, and how safe could it be? One made recently left burns.”

The blazeborn only shrugged. “I mean, if they’re selling them even all the way out here, these ones have to be safe.”

“Or it’s the only place left where they can scam customers out of their money, like Scar.” Jimmy snorted. “You would be surprised at some of the ridiculous things I’ve seen people purchase simply because it had a lovely advert in the paper, or heard about from their second cousin in the city who insisted it was the big new thing.”

“What can I say, aren’t new inventions exciting? The mistakes are the fun part, anyways.” Came the response, followed by a cackle when Jimmy’s face twisted. “These seem to be fine, though. Your hands are as pretty as ever.”

“I change my mind. Why are you still in my house.”

Tango’s laughter only roared louder until Jimmy could no longer keep the smile off his lips and joined him. When the pair calmed down once more he pushed the mauve fabric to the side. “This isn’t quite the shade I want, though. I’ll save it for Lizzie.”

“This one’s nice.” Tango picked up another, redder shade. Next to him it certainly was, matching the fiery golds of his hair and red eyes. That was all Jimmy needed to make up his mind.

“It is.” He said, taking it from his companion. “I think I’ll use it.”

“For what?”

“Secret.”

Tango made a whine, but Jimmy held strong, only putting his finger to his lips before walking the fabrics back to the cabinet.

“How about we go make supper? Since my oven is now usable again.”

Hands flung into the air with a groan. “You mess up one time! I swear!”

“Yes, yes.” He cooed, shooing Tango off to the kitchen. “Let’s go, my little genius, you can use your blacksmithing skills on the potatoes.”

[siconetribal]

Put It On My Tab: Chapter 7

Pairing: Jason Todd x Fem!reader

Tag: @vbecker10 @wordsfromshona @harlequin-hangout @harpy-space @tild3ath @gone-batty-fics @princessbl0ss0m @dakotali

Warning: Jason is in BIG trouble now, Y/N has decided on who she is strangling, Gotham's greatest detectives at work, RIP mop

Summary:

Everyone deserves time off, and the vigilantes of Gotham are no exception to the rule. The boys decide to take a weekend to let loose. Who knew a few drinks would lead to a stranger in bed?

Author Note:

A huge thank you and shout out to @harlequin-hangout for the amazing banners you made for me.

If you’re new to the story, here is a link to the other parts:

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6

Citlalli noticed the slight droop in her friend’s shoulders. She looked defeated, something rare and it hurt. There was no time to comfort her though, the line of customers growing. The two of them ran back and forth between the register and machines, cranking out the orders as best they could. Jason’s name was one of the first few called, so he made his way over to the pick up station and grabbed the complicated order topped with whip cream and colored foam. Wrinkling his nose at it, he called out a small thanks before making his way back to his seat. The gazes of the other customers hardly bothered him. He was used to being looked at, either out of attraction as Jason Todd or fear as the infamous Red Hood. 

Where do I find IAmBatman? She logs in at night at that lounge, but who knows what time she’ll actually get there? I have to go out on patrol tonight too. Even if I was free, what’s my plan? Sit here all day drinking coffee until they close? I didn’t bring my laptop, I can’t log in myself to see when she logs in. There’s no way I’m sitting in that lounge all day! I game, but I’m not going to sit there like some creepy stalker loser jumping at the chime of the door. They’d call the cops on me for sure. He glared at his cup, slowly turning it in place. There had to be something he could do. Something he was missing. It has to be right in front of me, I’m just not seeing it. He sighed, ruffling the front of his hair before taking another sip. “I hate to say it, but I should probably ask Grayson for some advice. He came up with the IP idea and that at least got me closer.” He muttered and slouched in his seat. Leaning his head back, he closed his eyes for a brief moment to shut out the world around him. You’re one step closer, Todd, one step closer. Even if I did see her, what did I plan on doing or saying? I’ll come back on a night when I'm free.

Finishing the last of his drink, he tossed the cup and grabbed the two others. He gave a small wave to Citlalli and a nod to Y/N on his way out, thanking them again. The two responded in unison to his gratitude as they continued to crank out the orders. When there was much wanted lull in customers, the two flopped onto their stools and let out a heavy sigh of relief and exhaustion. Midway through the rush, two other employees had clocked in and came to their rescue.

“Damn, we should’ve paid attention to the time. I didn’t realize it was time for the school to let out! Ai, my poor, poor feet!” Citlalli rolled her ankles.

“We should have some sort of alarm system set up that goes off every Monday to Friday that warns of the teenie bopper tidal wave.” Y/N rubbed her lower back. In all the running back and forth, she had nearly slipped more times than she could count, but there was no time to stop. If there was even one complaint and it just so happened to reach their boss, she shuddered at the thought. I’d never hear the end of it! We’d been stuck here until our next shift!

“You think Mr. B would let us?”

“Doubt it,” Y/N rolled her eyes. “It’d cramp the aesthetic,” she emphasized with air quotes. “Not like we’d have some blaring five alarm bell that would freak the customers out. It’d be something for us back here so we aren’t caught off guard by so many orders at once.”

“Not to mention those stupid mobile orders, custom orders, and don’t even get me started on those bullshit “top secret” menu orders that all those de mierda influencers go on and on about online!” Citlalli fumed, once again falling into rapid Spanish as she cursed the bloggers, vloggers, and internet gurus for coming up with the crazy concoctions that sounded horrendously disgusting at times.

“I know, Cici, I know.” Y/N handed her a glass of cold water to help distract her from the thought. If there was one thing Citlalli hated, it was the obnoxious younger generation that thought the world owed them. She could easily go on for hours about the overly privileged rich kids that were taking over and how ungrateful and undisciplined they were, demanding things to be done right away and perfectly perfect every time. Y/N was no fan of the snobby majority either, but these brats were what paid the bills. If these caffeine addicted wannabe famous elites were what kept the water running, she would just put up with the convoluted orders. Especially now that I have that 4k bill on top of it all. She sighed again. How many tortuous and agonizing drinks would it take to finally start making a dent in that bill?

“Oh, you actually got it! You know, for all your tough guy “I’m not mister nice guy”, you do nice things quite often.” Barbara grinned at his eyebrow twitching in response. “Am I wrong?” She raised one of her own eyebrows before tipping the fancy beverage in his direction as a thanks before leaving the room with a sense of victory while Jason stood there grumbling and muttering under his breath.

“I’m not a nice guy,” he insisted to himself.

“Of course, Master Jason, there is nothing nice about standing in one’s way while they are trying to enter the room.” Alfred’s voice caught him by surprise. It was no surprise that Alfred was a highly capable individual, but to be able to sneak up on any of them and so consistently was unheard of. Not for Alfred Pennyworth.

“Sorry Alfred,” he lightly shook his head and stepped aside.

“Not at all, though there must be something more on your mind to be unable to hear me call for you so many times.” The famous Wayne butler walked into the room, going about his usual tasks.

“Ah, nothing that important.” He rubbed at the back of his neck. “Just some dumb shit. Is Grayson home?”

“Master Richard,” Alfred stopped what he was doing and stared at Jason with the same unreadable expression he always had. “Master Richard stepped out for the moment, I am not certain when he will be returning, but he did state that he would be in time for dinner. Shall I set your place for dinner tonight?” Jason’s initial reaction was to refuse, but he hesitated. He really needed to speak with Dick, and this was the only way to assure that he at least got a hold of the older Robin somehow.

“Yeah, why not? I didn’t have any plans set or food anyway. Thanks, Alfred,” Jason nodded his head.

“But of course, Master Jason. If you’ll excuse me, I have to make sure the right number of seats are prepared.” He lightly bowed his head before exiting the room before Jason. The infamous Red Hood let out a heavy sigh, tousling his hair. This was becoming more and more of a handful with each passing day.

But I’ll get it done, dammit! I’m fucking Red Hood! I track down and capture the most notorious and difficult to capture villains on the daily! Finding one average civilian should not be this difficult!

It was now a proven fact. There was not a single shred of doubt left in Y/N’s mind. That tall, dark, and handsome stranger was a walking debt machine. A walking, talking withdrawal demon in human skin that was sent from the deepest pits of financial hell to make sure she would never see light outside the slums of Gotham. Satan, himself, must be cringing in sympathy at this cruel and unusual torture she was being put through. What made her so sure? Well, a certain cleaning instrument had been sacrificed in the urgent need to warn Citlalli and their boss, who was due to come in today, had become aware of said hecatomb. He was not pleased with this unscheduled offering, and the bill for its replacement would be removed from her paycheck.

I’m going to kill him. This is going on his tab, I’m going to make him pay me back for said dues, and then I’m going to wring his neck until I’m satisfied! She imagined her fingers wrapping around his throat, it would obviously require both from how strong it looked; and shook him violently as his face slowly drained of any color as he begged for her forgiveness. 

Citlalli saw the malicious smile that curled on her best friend’s lips and noted how it was creeping out the customers. Not wanting her to get in any more trouble, she firmly slapped her on the back. “Get it together, chica! You’re still on the clock and your batshit crazy look is going to get them complaining to the slave driver!” She hissed in her ear, snapping Y/N out of her little daze.

“Owww, didn’t have to hit me that hard.” She scowled in response, attempting to rub the spot, but of course it was just out of reach for her to self soothe. Just my luck, she glared at her best friend one last time before taking the next ticket. She carefully crafted the complex drink, triple checking the instructions to make sure she had it right before bring it to the pickup counter. “Large iced matcha latte with oat milk, brown sugar, white mocha, and strawberry purée in the sweet cream cold foam for…Paizleigh.” Y/N stared at the order and the customer’s name for a moment. Yup and nope, she looked up at those lingering nearby. “Large iced matcha latte with oat milk for Paizleigh.” She called again before placing the cup down in the area marked for O to R names. 

“Hey, is that my drink?” A male customer walked up to the counter.

“This is a large iced matcha latte with oat milk for Paizleigh.” She repeated the information and watched as the gears turned in the teenager’s head. Oh boy, not today. Please, not today!

“OK, but is it mine?” And there was the million-dollar question.

“Is your name Paizleigh?” She asked.

“Uh, no,” he scoffed.

“Then how could it possibly be yours? Are the ears on your head just for show? Did you not just hear me when I said, for the third time, expressly to you, that it’s for someone named Paizleigh?”

“Woah, I was just asking-,”

“Just asking one of the stupidest questions you could ever be asking right now because I literally called this drink out three times, and you know your name is not Paizleigh! Better yet, what was your order, hm? Was it even anywhere close to as complex as this one?”

“Uh, I uh, I just order a medium hot coffee with cream and sugar.”

“Like I thought, nowhere near this,” she pointed to the long ticket sticker with detailed instructions on how to layer all add-ons. “Now that we’ve established just how stupid you are, and I’ve wasted enough time on this, shut up and get back in line until we call your name, which is?”

“So, is it my drink?” The sudden question shattered the little daydream where Y/N was forced to grit her teeth and smile. She let out a heavy sigh. If only she could be so bold. But alas, that would be the day she really wanted to lose this job, which was better than some others she has had.

“What’s your name again?”

“Kevin,” her eyebrow twitched.

“Right, Kevin, this drink is for Paizleigh. So, no, it is not your drink. I’m sure one of the other baristas are working on it right now, and it’ll be out shortly. Thank you for your patience.” She forced herself to let go of the cup before she ended up crushing it, and turned to pull her next ticket. And look at that, the golden Kevin ticket. This is all skunk head’s doing, he’s the living embodiment of the four horsemen of the apocalypse, but just for me.

The quiet dinner that Jason had hoped for was dashed with all the children present with Bruce. It was not unheard of to have dinner as a whole family, but it was pretty uncommon since someone was always busy, namely him. And the one time he decided to show up voluntarily is clearly the day everyone made sure to attend. If this was intentional to spend time, it was heartwarming, but the annoyance easily outweighed the small warm and fuzzy feeling.

I needed to talk to Grayson about the girl, but fucking everyone and their father showed up! Literally our father! He growled in annoyance, beating out his frustration into the crook he caught harassing some pedestrians. At least there are idiots out and active today, I need to vent. He dragged the now unconscious body to a place where the police would spot it before disappearing into the shadows once more. Sitting up on the ledge of his favorite building, Red Hood looked at Magnus. “I know, I know, I need to get it done! It ain’t easy!” It was easier said than done. Since that dinner a few weeks back, it was nearly impossible to find time alone to meet with the first Robin.

“Talking to Mildred again? Are you sure you don’t need to see someone about that?” Nightwing chuckled, appearing from behind the gargoyle.

“The name is Magnus, get it right.”

“Woah, there, I didn’t mean to offend!” The blue crusader put his hands up in surrender. “So, how’d it go?” He grinned, taking a seat beside his younger brother.

“Horrible,” he bluntly answered. “That IP address led me to a gaming lounge! How the hell am I supposed to find her in the middle of the day when she games at night?”

“Seriously, damn, did not see that coming.” The elder Robin muttered, resting his chine on his hand as he considered this new information. “She could be coming into town from anywhere and if she’s really big on gaming, she might be willing to go the extra mile of traveling a longer distance just to play.”

“That just takes me back to fucking square one all over again! I’ll have to stake out the place on a night we’re supposed to game just to see who comes and goes.” Red Hood hung his head.

“You just might have to, that sucks. I was certain the IP address would’ve been a hit! Who knew she was using a gaming lounge.” Nightwing shook his head, feeling sympathetic for his younger brother, when some commotion down below caught their attention. They quickly jumped into action, fighting the criminals that were robbing the jewelry store below.

“Yeah, who would’ve thought they’d have such a place here. I’m surprised it hasn’t been hit by thieves yet. Though, it looks like they’re trying to spruce the place up a bit.” He grunted as he took a hit and swing at his assailant, knocking him flat onto his feet.

“Yeah, there’s been quite a bit of that going on with the new people in office. Can’t say it won’t get dirty.” Nightwing responded as he dodged a hit and landed a kick.“Does it ever stay clean?” Red Hood scoffed. “At least there’s a decent coffee shop where I can keep an eye on the place from. By the way, they’ve got some real interesting staff there. This one employee was really,” Red Hood was cut off by a rather big guy tackling him into the brick wall. The sudden blow jolted his memory a bit, and his mind quickly connected two very obvious dots. Holy shit, she was the barista at the counter!

[aquilathefighter]

smapril 13

Day 13  huddling for warmth | "And how would you make me scream?" thank you @staroftheendless for the prompts as always! tags: roommate au

“The heat in the flat’s gone out. In the middle of winter. Well, are you gonna do anything about it!?” Hob shouts into the phone. He taps the end call button with force, grumbling, “Why the hell do we pay you half our paycheck every month if you’re just gonna let us freeze.”

He finds his flatmate curled up in his bed, blankets piled high.

“Piece of shit landlord says he can’t do anything till tomorrow. Don’t suppose you have any clue how we’re going to make it through the night?”

A mop of black hair pokes out from the nest. “We could always huddle for warmth. Two bodies sharing heat will be significantly warmer than each of us alone.”

“You sure? You’re the one with a personal space issue.”

If he could see Dream’s eyes, he’d be shot a withering glare. “Would I have suggested it were it not acceptable to me?”

“Point taken,” Hob shrugs as he barges into the room. “Open up, I’m coming in!”

Dream scoots over and pulls the blankets aside. For a while they lay there, stock still until Hob starts to wiggle.

“What are you doing?” Dream asks.

“Taking my jeans off.” He can feel Dream’s stare. “What? They’re uncomfortable and I don’t want to lie hear all night like this.” He manages to shove them down to his ankles, kicking them off and toward the end of the bed. “Don’t be such a prude, Dream.” He rolls over, his back pointed toward Dream. What he doesn’t reveal is the raging erection he has from being so close to the most attractive man he’s ever seen.

Dream lies flat on his back for a while, then discards his own jeans much in the same way as Hob, for much the same reason.

“Told ya,” Hob says. “Hey Dream?”

“Hmm?”

“Wanna hear a scary story? Bet I can make you scream.” Hob rolls back over toward him and breaks into a ridiculous tale that Dream is pretty sure he read once in a book meant for small children. He sighs dramatically as Hob gets to the reveal. He rolls over to face Hob, their noses merely inches apart.

“I think I can do better. That story was quite childish,” Dream says, smug.

“And how would you make me scream?” Hob asks, grin splitting his face.

Dream grabs at Hob’s waist, pulling him flush against his body and pressing his arousal to Hob’s. His hands crawl up the back of Hob’s shirt, kneading at the warm muscles that are hidden there.

“Dream?”

“Do you not want this? Have you not been craving my touch as I have craved yours?”

“Oh, I have. You’re serious?” Hob asks, stunned that such a beautiful creature could still want him after living together for an entire year.

Dream brushes his lips against Hob’s, hands dipping down to grab generous handfuls of Hob’s arse through his boxers.

“I have wanted you since the day we met,” he says, grinding his cock against Hob’s.

“Oh!” Hob moans, flinging his arms around Dream and searching for his waistband. “So have I…”

He manages to get into Dream’s briefs and around his cock. His hips buck as he feels the soft length of him, fingers dancing across his shaft.

“God you’re beautiful.”

“I should be saying this about you, Hob Gadling,” Dream purrs, slipping Hob’s boxers down to free his weeping cock.

Hob almost comes as Dream begins to pump his hand up and down his length, matching the rhythm of Hob’s hand on his own cock. For minutes they are silent, save for their heaving breaths and occasional moans that slip out.

“Dream! I’m gonna—" Hob wails and Dream stays his hand as Hob presses against him, covering him in his hot release. Hob gives him a few more pumps and then he is contributing to the mess between them, vision whiting out in bliss.

When he comes back to himself, he presses a sweet kiss to Hob’s lips.

“I think we’re going to need a clean blanket,” he rumbles. “But you’re welcome to huddle for warmth any time.”

[cherry-velvet-skies]

I'm bored and depressed so let's rate each of the Beatles different eras based on how they looked because I can't think of anything else that would make me happier right now 🤭💕

I'm doing this individually, and we're starting with George because where the fuck else would we start but with our resident It Girl 💅🏻

Teddy Bear (Pre-Beatles Era)

I'm not a huge fan of the Teddy Era myself but I have no choice but to respect it, as George does look good

This is the only time his hair is up instead of down during Beatles Era but it's still cute

He knew what look he wanted and stuck with it. I admire the dedication.

7/10 because if I saw him at a party or something he would definitely catch my attention

Bowl (1962-63)

I'm not a fan and honestly I don't think George was either

As we know he hated having his hair cut, and they gave him the most cringe hairstyle ever and he just had to deal with it

But since he's George and he looks cute regardless it doesn't look as bad as it should have lmao

6.5/10 because George will never receive less than a 6 he is physically incapable of looking bad. The extra half point is also because I find the unibrow quite endearing 🤭

Mop Top (1964-65)

Out of all the bowl-cut renditions this one is by far my fave

Every time I rewatch AHDN and Help! I can't get over how cute he looks

When it would get messy and become Onion Hair™️ >>> (see Beatles For Sale album cover for reference)

7.5/10 because it's cute but not my all-time favorite George era. Would definitely be an honorable mention though

Shaggy (1966)

Softest era yet tbh

This was around the time they went to India so it's very clear that George is soon going to enter his truest form

They're not pictured, but this was also the era of the tiny circle sunglasses, which were an unbelievable serve

9/10 and I want to kiss him on the tip of his nose

Spiritual Awakening (1967)

yes Yes YES

Long hair + mustache combo = hot sexy realness

I must also address the fact that I never thought facial hair was attractive until George. That's how much I love this

10000/10 absolutely perfect no complaints ever I'm in love 😍

Victorian Vampire Realness (1968)

Also known as Cherry's Gender Goals

The only era where I can say I actually look like him 😌

I feel like it's missing something with the lack of facial hair, but the difference is not that significant

9/10 based on vibes alone, and I only deducted a point because I simultaneously want to be him and be with him. This confuses me.

Get Up and Go (1969) (pls tell me you get that reference)

I hope to someday be even a percentage of how stylish this man is

The grown out shag and mustache does something to me 🥴

I watch the scene of him practicing his slide routine wayyy more than I should...

120000/10 I wanna run my fingers through his hair while we make out

Hippie Jesus (1970)

There are several versions of this look, and the ones where his hair is a bit shorter is the preferred one for me.

Here, however, he looks like a whimsical forest entity and I have a certain appreciation for that

He looks very warm and cozy and that makes me want to hug him. I feel he would give amazing hugs 🥰

7.5/10 and I want to braid his hair

Sophisticated Gardener (1971-72)

Okay. HEAR ME OUT.

I'M NOT A FAN OF BEARDS. We have already discussed that. SO WHY THE FUCK AM I SO ATTRACTED TO THIS

I do not like how hot he looks like this. It confuses me to the point that it turns me on even more.

43625749/10 I wanna lay on a blanket in his garden and make love for hours 🥵🥵🥵

Pantene Commercial Applicant (1973)

DO YOU SEE HOW GLORIOUS HIS HAIR LOOKS

Paired with a mustache and oh my god I am on my knees

He also looks amazing in hats. Any and all hats 😁

100/10 he looks majestic and I wanna know his hair care routine

Dark Horse Gender Thief (1974-75)

Alright listen here bitch (affectionate)

If I don't look like this or exude this energy at some point in my life I am going to be very upset

The BDE is off the charts and the proof of existence is irrefutable.

1000/10 he's sexy and we ALL know it. In my mind we're kissing on the mouth but whatever 😤

Crackerbox Poodle (1976)

soft bby

wanna have tea and cookies with him (I don't even like tea but I would do it for him)

cuddles and blankets on cold winter days ftw

10/10 he would get me out of a depressive episode when no one else could 🥺💕

Permalicious (1977-78)

Dilf (Literally. This was around the time Dhani was born)

Not a huge fan of perms but he still looks cool

The was also the continuation of the cardigan era from '76 so let's just say now I'm picking up on some hipster vibes if you know what I mean

9.5/10 I'd let him take me on a museum date and then to an overpriced coffee shop (I don't like coffee either but you get it). Would probably make out with him too.

Mullet Dad(dy) (1979-80)

Hawaiian shirts and tacky necklaces we love to see it

THE EARRINGS OH MY GOD THE EARRINGS

He was so handsome in this era AND FOR WHAT

10/10 I'd sleep with him if he wanted me to

Inverted Bowl (1981-83)

George bby what happened

Like Bowl but spiky(?)

Doesn't look terrible but it was the 80s what do you expect

7/10 and those points are mostly coming from the pattern on the shirt and the overwhelming dilf energy

Long Lost Full House Character (1984-85)

This look is so 80s but I'm not mad at it

I didn't like it at first but the more I stare at it the more I fall in love with it

That could just be the power of George regardless of what he looks like but are we really gonna act surprised about that

50/10 he would 100% be able to seduce me by doing absolutely nothing

Oof (1986)

Teddy Boy? More like Teddy Middle-Aged Man 😳

Babe what did you do

Still got a cute face but I don't know what to make of this hairstyle

7/10 this one and Inverted Bowl are in a race to the bottom lmao

Author's Photo at the End of the Book (1987)

The dilfiest dilf to ever dilf oh mY GOD 🥴

He looks like a college professor and when I tell you I would have PERFECT attendance (there's a fic on AO3 about that if you're interested)

When I say I like older men THIS IS WHAT I FUCKING MEAN

36842957/10 Making love to this man would be one of the best experiences of my life. I've never wanted to fuck a man in his forties so badly PLEASE he would make me feel so loved and appreciated I JUST KNOW IT 🥵

Nelson Wilbury (1988-90)

You already know (Dilf)

The End of the Line and Handle With Care MVs are something that can be so personal

He could talk to me about trees for hours and I would never get bored

13498275/10 We're fucking and then taking a hot bath afterwards sorry I don't make the rules

Businessman Couture (1991-93)

If you saw the previous rating of this era no you didn't

I don't know what I was on he's so fucking hot

He still looks like a college professor but I'm not gonna pretend for one second that I ain't into that shit

49527428/10 I orginally had this at a 6.5/10 and I feel like I have to apologize to some higher power out there for the carnal sin I committed. I should've chosen a photo from 1992 specifically but I didn't and I feel that was a mistake. He has ruined my standards for men.

Cool Guru (1994-97)

The long hair has made a comeback I love it so much 💕

Literally has the most warm and welcoming energy I have ever seen. If he hugged me I would probably start crying

Seems like he would enjoy those sweet romantic park lunch dates 🥰

9.5/10 I would take a meditation class with him

Wholesome Dad (1998-∞)

Deserves all the love and appreciation

Would definitely be constantly creating new recipes for the food from his garden

He knew the real meaning of life and we all could learn a thing or two from him

100/10 the vibes are immaculate and I wish I could give him a hug 🥺💕🥰

[lakesbian]

hai do you have in depth appearance descriptors for aisha and alec? i want to do fanart but it's harder to find specific descriptors of their features than the others

FUCK yes there is never enough art of The Shitheads in the world. you have to tag me in your fanart of The Shitheads. i love The Shitheads. gonna answer the rest of the asks tmrw but this one Must be answered tonight so i can hasten the process of more fanart of The Shitheads being produced.

the worm wiki generally has fairly thorough physical descriptions of them iirc? i don't recall there being any details about them in the book that the worm wiki misses. both have relatively sparse description in the book compared to some other characters, so i like to Make Shit Up to add flavor.

alec is described as being lanky & feminine with a mop of curly black hair. i personally picture him as being short (5'4-5'5 range) w/ a beauty mark beneath his left eye & dimples. also, you know when huskies have such pale blue eyes that it's creepy and you're like Dear God Get Some Contact Lenses On That Beast?

yeah i think alec's eyes are that shade of blue. he's serving Creepy Porcelain Doll to me. i also imagine him w/ like...the fading remnants of a baby-face he's half aged out of, because i think the best undersider designs remind you that they are Alarmingly young for all the shit they've got going on.

wildbow was frankly putting a fuckton of misogynoir into describing aisha's physical appearance--he has taylor describe her as 'trashy' and very hyperfeminine w/ large breasts & high cheekbones & a long neck & long legs & a waist & so on. so your canon desc there is "very conventionally attractive," although i would certainly hard swerve the racist lean into hypersexualizing and adultifying her. she's also described as having a purple streak in her hair.

as for the Flavor i am stirring into the aisha pot: she's 13/14, so i imagine her as having the same babyface going on as alec. i think she can be an inch or two taller than alec as a treat, and also because it's fun/incredibly tragic 4 his life to be so brief that he's still shorter than her when he dies. (brian is tall as shit, she should also get to be not-short.) i don't believe we get too much in the way of canon hairstyles prior to gold morning, but i trend towards imagining afro puffs w/ purple dye on one of 'em. she does scan to me as a Fun Earrings kind of girl, but nothing that'd be impractical/risk getting snagged during supervillainy.

[noa-ciharu]

Dragons of Earths meetings are funniest thing ever if you look past the drama angst. Seals are all mopping and trying to live normally while Dragons of Earth are unapologetically unhinged. Receipt? Oh well...

Fuuma transformed into antichrist, did all sort of nasty crimes worth of horny jail time and invented fastest way to solve love triangle in few mins, then kidnapped Kakyou from hospital bed so he can fulfill Kakyou's dream. That'll be all emotional and touching if guy didn't wish to die. Tbf alot of them do be like that... neither therapy nor common sense exist in this manga.

On side note Fuuma detected he was being filmed so he had to out bad boy persona on. Although I believe Satuski and Beast were more engrossed by those mattress length shoulders. Also Beast detected him as Kamui so Fuuma is his dead name now: sorry Kamui you're one in wrong here, Fuuma changed gender from good boy to horny antichrist along with name. It’ll be awkward to scream own name ik, but deal with it boy.

His evil vibes woke Kanoe up from probably another prophetic dream where she's tormenting her sister. Kanoe the queen always serving looks ❤

Also yes, that's a penis throne. I think I don't need to explain why she has it, do I? But where you find furniture like that?? Last time I've been to IKEA I haven't seen anything that interesting. Is penis throne mass production or custom order? I need answers.

Also - no Kakyou. Where's Kakyou you ask? Let's backtrack a bit:

Fuuma laid him down on floor. Because carrying Kakyou would spoil his dramatic entrance. How to be cool when you're carrying a sad twink prophet? You can't. God forbid. At least he's in coma and would remember none of disrespect

If you needed more proof how gay Fuuma is here you have it. He's touchy with Kamui, Nataku, Kakyou, Kamui (yes he gets to be mentioned twice because Fuuma can't keep hands away, or tongue), but hot woman hugs him with her chest revealed and he's standing there passively? Straight 17yo boy would have gone feral. Same vibes as when Tenou tried to woo Kendappa, just more suggestive.

Kanoe should try hugging Sakurazukamori!Subaru as a welcome too, she'd get pretty much the same reaction. 

Shout out to Satsuki for always serving looks with 😐 expression. That outfits rocks. Actually ya know what? Everyone in X is serving looks.

Kanoe is still trying to persuade Fuuma onto roads of bisexuality (no, not heterosexuality, nothing would stop his attraction towards sad beautiful twinks drenched in misery) but alas. It’s probably at this point that Kanoe decided to gift penis throne to Fuuma, he clearly deserves it more.

Fuuma finally remembered about Kakyou's existence on hallway floor so he went to fetch him. Leaving him on floor was so extra and evil. Another thing to add on list of all Fuuma’s crimes.

Yuuto recalled the days when Fuuma was a good normal boy. Good old days. He's a changed man now however, even fixed his hair. You can be an antichrist without serving look. 

In meantime what's happening outside?

Kusanagi is talking to animals. Kotori did this too before so very Disney princess out of them <3 best quality mid aged man can have is being a babygirl

Kusanagi is closest to normal we have on Dragons of Earth’s side so that tells alot about all of them collectively. Who’s the least normal you ask? Well....

But then he sees Nataku flying around with a sword. Apparently holly sword somehow calls to Fuuma; other once calls to Kamui. I was about to make joke how sword battles (that occur only between two of them) are a metaphor for..... yea. But you don’t want to joke about things like that because you never know what Clamp actually planned. What if it turns into be careful what you wish for and world ends because of UST? God forbid World ends because of gays’ bad breakup and load of UST.

Back to Kusanagi. His initial though upon seeing twink fly around with sword wasn’t ‘wtf is he 20 meters up in air’ so that speaks volumes. And what does Kusanagi do?

Obvs he follows. What else is to do there than to jump in air yourself, duh. When Dragons of Earth see unhinged behavior it’s in their genes to join. This was all impulse. But damn is this jumping ability useful I wish I could transport like this :< like you arrive at work and hear coworkers complain about lack of parking spaces and you’re like ‘nah I don’t have those problems, I jump to work place :D’

And how can people be unhinged without Seishirou joining? God forbid. He saw Kusanagi flying up in air towards government building and was like ‘people doing crimes without me? Heartbroken :<’

Do you think he flew-jumped too or walked like normal human being for once? Since his 😎 hobby is to hang on top of churches and crosses, is that even a question?

Fuuma, the king of lack of shame, detected rest of unhinged gang arriving. Fuuma and Seishirou (and maybe Kusangi too?) should have a widest shoulders competition, just to see who’s the winner once and for all. Tho jokes aside I’ll never be over how detailed, symbolic and gorgeous backgrounds are in X. I could get a degree in symbolism just from reading Clamp mangas.

Nataku is being a taxi service in other words. Fuuma got a discount 100% for looking like Nataku’s father. Just like everything else sword is detailed and gorgeous. And then you remember women exploded giving birth to them....

Fast forward through Seals talking and Hinoto’s prophetic thing, we come back to this:

Sword taxi service arrived, Kusanagi who missed the dressing codex arrived, 😎 arrived - gang is complete. Although, out of all people Kakyou, with close to least big dick energy in a crew, put in penis throne? Dying shame. If it were about who’s the biggest dick (bastard edition) it’d be 😎, no competition. If it’s big dick energy them idk, too many candidates.

In conclusion they’re all unhinged and Kakyou is lucky he’s in coma and remembers none of day Fuuma kidnapped him from hospital, laid down on floor so he could have a dramatic entrance and brief heterosexual moment and then put in penis throne. Fate just won’t let him die.

[mari-writes]

“Oh my gosh, are you okay?”

Bokuto hurries across the gym, winding around machinery and rogue dumbbells. He makes it to where the man has fallen, just behind and to the left of his treadmill, which is still running at a quick pace. Bokuto reaches out to pull the machine’s emergency stop key.

“Ugaaashakuuu,” the man groans, words indecipherable. He had landed awkwardly with his limbs twisted underneath his body in a heap. Bokuto winces at the sight.

“Here, let me help you!” He crouches down. “Can you stand? Or are you too hurt? Are you in pain? Do you need me to call an ambulance? Maybe I should—”

“I’m fine,” the man says, voice strained. He slowly rolls over into a seated position. But he sways a bit, so Bokuto reaches out to steady him. The man’s eyes widen, snapping to Bokuto’s hand on his bicep.

“Sorry!” Bokuto releases him and scoots back a bit, giving him space. He knows he can be overbearing sometimes—especially when he sees someone in distress.

“That’s okay. Um, thank you, but I think I’m okay. Just a bruised knee, and some damaged pride.” The man shrugs, and finally looks up. Their eyes lock.

Bokuto is suddenly holding his breath.

He’s beautiful.

Heart-shaped face. Lips with a perfect cupid’s bow. A mop of black hair that curls around a cute pair of ears. The most confusing yet alluring blue-green-gray eye color Bokuto has ever seen.

Bokuto has found a lot of people attractive in his lifetime, of varying heights, builds, colors and genders. But he doesn’t think he’s ever gazed upon such beauty.

“Um, hello? You offered to help me up?”

Blinking, Bokuto realizes the man is looking at him, confused. A single, perfect eyebrow is raised. A slender hand is reaching out towards him.

“Sorry! Here, yes, let me help you!” Bokuto takes the slightly sweaty hand, silently marveling at the man’s long, delicate fingers. The pads are slightly calloused.

When he’s standing, Bokuto can see he’s tall—only a few centimeters shorter than Bokuto himself. And he’s undoubtedly in shape in his own way, with lean corded muscle throughout his arms and legs.

“Thank you,” the man nods. He takes back his hand. “I, um, got distracted and tripped. I’m fine though. Promise.”

Bokuto nods in understanding. He’s still recovering from his own… fall, as it were. He grins. “Oh good! But be careful, treadmill falls are no joke. Kuroo, my friend who works here with me, took a nasty spill last year because he forgot to tie his shoelaces!”

“Yikes.”

“Right?! He’s okay though.”

“Glad to hear.”

They stare at each other for a moment. The man is fiddling with his fingers awkwardly, and Bokuto wonders if it’s just the building’s harsh lighting or if the man’s ears are truly turning pink.

“I’m Bokuto by the way!” He bows briefly. “I work at the front desk.”

The man bows back. “Nice to meet you. I’m Akaashi.”

Akaashi. Bokuto thinks it’s a fitting name. “I haven’t seen you here before! And I’m pretty much here all the time when I’m not at class or sleeping. I know all the regulars!”

“Ah,” Akaashi nods. “Well, I’m mostly an outdoor runner. And I do yoga. The gym isn’t really my scene.”

Of course he does yoga, Bokuto thinks, eyes subtly scanning Akaashi’s svelte yet strong frame.

Damn.

“But the school offers us a free membership here,” Akaashi shrugs. “So I thought I should take advantage once in a while.”

It’s Bokuto’s turn to nod. “Yeah! Anyway, there’s lots of things to do here. We have weight machines, medicine balls, barbells, everything!”

Akaashi’s mouth settles into a barely-there smile, and Bokuto can feel himself falling even deeper. When was the last time he liked someone so quickly? Probably never.

“Well, I have been wanting to work on my strength a bit more…”

“I can help!” Bokuto cries, immediately regretting it as Akaashi winces at his volume. “Sorry!” He scratches the back of his neck shyly. “It's just… if you want advice, I’m pretty knowledgeable about training.”

“I can see that,” Akaashi mutters absently, and Bokuto finds the other man’s gaze fixed on his flexing bicep. “I mean, um, thanks. I might take you up on that sometime.” The redness Bokuto had noticed on his ears has now spread to his sharp cheekbones.

Interesting, Bokuto muses. Very interesting.

“Great! Well, um, I’ll let you get back to it. Nice to meet you, Akaashi!” He waves as he heads back to the front desk. The man waves back, slightly less enthusiastically. But he’s still smiling.

Bokuto takes that as a win.

This will be an interesting year...

//

This little scene has been in the back of my mind since I wrote this drabble back in July. Though I wanted to change the POV to Bokuto and make Akaashi ACTUALLY fall from the treadmill  Anyway thanks for reading this silly thing, please let me know if you enjoyed! (And reblog! It helps so much!)

[egittae]

field research on dad jokes - lambert & ewan

@optimismxmagicism

He was there with a mission. A simple one that he wasn’t even obligated to do, but his heart wanted to.

Lambert had heard things about students of the academy running clubs as to promote bonding over certain activities and whatnot, and that today would be a special moment for each club leader to promote their idea in hopes of attracting new members, as well as for new clubs to make their place in the whole ordeal. It seemed fun and lighthearted, a nice and engaging way for students to bond and learn together.

He wanted to see what it was like…to perhaps bring some of that for the students and inhabitants of the Abyss. That would be good, right? They should have access to fun activities as well. If Lambert could find a way to adapt it to them, it could be nice. And so he roamed around the halls, looking at what each club had to offer.

Most were quite straightforward- Equestrian Club, Sword Fight Club, Book Club, Language Club, Cooking Club…Goth Club? Gossip Club? What is a Fanfic Club even? What is a RobeLox Clu- anyway.

Young people things, don’t lose focus…they’re having fun in their own way- Lambert thought to himself. Until one club caught his gaze in particular. Comedy Club. And within the small room that’s apparently its headquarters, was one person.

A tiny little guy, with the brightest mop of red hair Lambert had ever seen (or at least that he could remember).

“So, you are the leader of this guild I suppose?” He spoke directed to the boy, looking around for a moment. “I am a new teacher…could you perhaps explain to me what those club’s activities are?”

[unknownjpegs]

bar

Bunny is used to being approached in bars. Not a thing of ego to admit, just a fact. She tends to attract women more often than not, and prefers it that way. Most of the time.

So, in a shitty little pub in Boston, at the end of a boring conference with the usual dry-coughed, gray-haired crowd, she’s pleasantly surprised when a man sidles up to her. Annoyed too, because it’s a man.

She can feel him at her left and continues watching the hockey game on the television — but lets her eyes slip along the bottom lash line to catch a peek. 

He’s young, clearly, and that has her mouth scowling up towards her nose in distaste. Far from her type. She can accept the aesthetic pull; his prettiness is the softly arrogant boy sort of attractive. Like he’s been plucked off a Manhattan street in 1998, like someone had put a twinks wanted sign outside an American Apparel. This, Bunny thinks as she turns to eye him up and down, is what you’d get if you reached in and plucked one of them at random. 

He’s not the way Bunny usually likes men. Or likes people, rather. There’s a certain untrustworthiness about somebody that beautiful. They always think they can get away with whatever they’d like.

Maybe that’s just her own issues though. 

Anyway, he’s not her type. But he is the alcohol’s, and that is goddamn unfortunate. Otherwise she would be able to ignore him as he moves closer. The totally unsubtle crawl of a man at a bar about to make a move. It’s almost endearing.

 “Hey,” he says, and flashes a smile. The way he does it tells her that this is all it usually takes for him to be successful.

Bunny is sure that, if he’s asked, he’d tack on a charming to that smile. She has been around her fair share of those — men and grins alike. And, to be fair to him, it is a decent one; toothy and wide, a bit wild at the edges to betray that there’s something else going on under the surface. But she knows, just from looking at him, that he thinks this lopsided smirk is more effective than it actually is. That alone makes her want to swat him aside, bruise his ego.

“Are you even old enough to be in here?” Bunny glances left-right over his shoulders, as if she might find a parent standing behind him. 

He pouts, pink lips twisting nice and pretty, and she thinks for just a second what he might look like under her, doing that. Rolls her eyes to clear the image, because — Christ, he really does look young. She’s three tonics in and that’s enough to bubble her stomach in distant disgust. 

“Yes,” he says a bit petulantly. If she weren’t tipsy, she might just get up and walk away. The only time a man should sound that pathetic is in bed, as far as she’s concerned. 

But just as the morose shade falls across his face it lifts, everything loose and bright and joyful. Like he’s just fucking happy to be right where he is. 

“More importantly, I’m old enough to buy you a drink.” He leans against the bar, propping himself with an elbow by her glass on its napkin. He’s holding his head up with a big hand pressed to his temple, mop of red hair nearly falling in his face. 

This close, Bunny can see how absolutely massive his pupils are blown. They’re big, black voids swallowing up each of his green irises. Oh, she thinks, mouth twitching, that’s why he looks as if he’s fucking happy to be here. 

“What sort of issues are you trying to work through?” She asks, peering over the rim of her glass as she drinks from it. Gestures, when he only shakes his head, at the length of her body in the barstool. 

His smile falters a degree. “I just think you’re hot.” He’s got a local accent.

“Yeah, I get that. It’s why I asked.” Bunny says, edging very close to bored the longer the interaction drags. 

He only blinks at her, and the fidgety energy of him as he tries to stand calm and normal before he overrides some of the disgust. He seems nervous, not just high. That’s blood in the water for Bunny.

Regretfully exhausted with herself, she says: “All right. Follow me.” 

She stands from the bar, gathers her coat from the seat next to her, and heads towards the door. She’s already closed her tab, and she does not need to look over her shoulder to know that the man is following her. Right at her heels, maybe his hands shoved in the pockets of his tellingly military pants.

She doesn’t look back until she’s rounded the edge of the building, stood under one of the streetlights. They’re near the mouth of an alley and it’s a nice autumn night, cool and crisp but still early enough in the evening that some of the warmth lingers. 

Bunny turns briskly to face him. And yes, he’s there. His eyes snap up, having been staring somewhere near the direction of her ass, and it’s flattering enough for her to smirk. Then his cheeks go pink, and her fuzzy, alcohol-sodden brain goes: oh, why not?

“What’s your name?” He breathes as she takes several steps towards him, that grin on his face again. Like he thinks he can charm personal information out of her, like she’s not been around this block and it's new territory. “Mine is —“

“Nope.” Bunny says, slapping a hand over his mouth. Those big eyes go wider for a split second and then flutter half-shut, heavy lidded. Beneath her palm, the grin twists a little filthy. “I don’t have a name and neither do you.”

She drops her hand to his chest, shoves very firmly until he has to retreat backwards or fall on his ass. He whines a little when he hits the brick wall, but it doesn’t sound pained. Just excited. More fucking catnip, more blood in the water. 

In the center of his chest, Bunny fists her hand and drags him forward. He’s only a few inches taller than her, but he still bends eagerly at the waist like he has to accommodate a larger height difference. 

He’s not a bad kisser, she thinks when their mouths meet. Too enthusiastic, too wet, but his hand comes up to rest on her shoulder and he makes a tiny, content noise so it’s fine. It’s good. 

Until she pulls back for a breath and looks at him, anyway. 

Young, the remaining sober inch of her mind screams. Abort abort abort. 

“How old are you?” She asks, despite her better judgement, dreading the answer. His eyes flutter open. 

“Huh? Oh,” that grin as he reaches for his back pocket. Fishes out an ID from a beat to hell leather wallet with duct tape wrapped around the outside, and holds it up for her to examine.

The ID is vertical. Bunny’s eyebrows pull tightly diagonal in dismay, her mouth curling.

“Jesus fucking Christ —“ she starts, and takes a step back from him. 

“No, no! Don’t worry,” he tucks it away, holding both hands up. “We can keep going! I just haven’t gotten it renewed in a few years. I’m twent—“

“Eugh.” Bunny interrupts with a revolted huff, feeling her stomach give a little. There’s a deep grimace on her face. “Oh, shut up. Shut up. Ew.”

She turns away, face warming with a mortified flush, and begins to walk down the street. Behind her, the heavy patter of long-limbed feet.

“Do not follow me. Go home, kid.” Bunny calls without turning back, slinging her coat over a shoulder and fixing the suspender back into place. He’d brushed it aside during the kiss, and she thinks very seriously about throwing the pair away when she gets back to her hotel room. 

Alone.

“Fuck, Sullivan,” she mutters to herself. “Get it together.”

[birdlungg]

I loved your collector x reader !! I was wondering if I could request Michael Myers (pee paw Myers cuz I love my lil old man) × house wife reader? And she's like femme and obsessed with pastels and pink? She makes money from home but she's always ready to wash his clothes and have a bath prepared even tho he sits like a wet cat 🥺🤍🤍

SITS LIKE A WET CT THATS THE PERFECT COMPARISON

I love thissssss

Hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think

——————————————————————————————————

Michael was a watcher. There was no doubt about it. He would watch and observe to find the perfect time to strike. Apart from the obvious predatory implications, he genuinely enjoyed people watching (not that he would ever admit it to anyone). He enjoyed watching you in the moments when you didn’t realize he was there. 

It’s evening, just before dark when he returns home. He’s watching you now, hidden behind the corner of your house as you tend to your garden. You’re humming to yourself as you water your daffodils with a garden hose. You wear your favorite bubblegum pink sundress that shows ample cleavage and stops at your thighs since it’s so warm, and Michael is very much appreciating the view. 

You turn around to walk back to the water spigot and jump about three feet in the air when you see him there. 

“Michael! Jesus, baby, you need to stop doing that!” You laugh to yourself as you walk to the faucet and turn off the water. By the time you walk to the side of the house to greet him, he’s already gone. You make your way into the house through the open glass door and see that he’s left a small trail of blood drops through the house. You sigh to yourself, removing your large sun hat and setting it on the hook next to the door. You follow the trail of blood up the stairs and into the master bathroom. Thankfully, the entire house has fake-wood flooring so cleanup should be fairly easy. 

Michael is standing in the bathroom waiting for you. After being together for so long he knows that you like to clean him up when he gets home after a night out. His coveralls got the worst of it, but his mask also has some splatters across the bridge of the nose. 

You step around him as he watches you, head tilting slightly as you work, turning on the faucet and setting the stopper to the bath. Then you turn to him and stand on your tiptoes to remove his mask. He’s so handsome, your Michael. Even weathered with age and missing an eye he’s the most attractive man you’ve ever seen. 

You toss the mask into the sink and get to undressing him. You unzip his coveralls and pull them down his shoulders. He had already removed his boots, so as soon as he stepped out of his coveralls he was ready to go. You never understood how he was able to go commando underneath his clothes, especially if he was eventually going to be covered in blood. To each their own, I guess. 

Michael steps into the bath as you grab all of his clothing and set them in the hamper. Finally, you lean over him and turn off the water, grabbing a loofah and body wash on your way back down. 

You kneel next to the tub and begin washing him, scrubbing down the areas you can reach. He’s never been the most cooperative for you, but you’ve learned to work around him. He bristles a bit when you get to his hair, but you just roll your eyes and continue.

“I’m gonna let you soak for a bit while I get your clothes washed, ok?” He says nothing, just watches you leave the room with the laundry hamper as you head downstairs. You start the laundry and mop up the blood with a rag, making your way back.

By the time you make it back upstairs he’s out of the bath, sitting there naked on the large bed. You head into the bathroom, making sure any blood or spilled water is taken care of and unplug the stopper in the tub. You head directly to the closet now, set on changing your own clothes. You drop your dress and stand there in your panties while you look at your options for pajamas as Michael stares. 

He does like to watch after all. 

[absolutelyfizzing]

unwanted feelings

james potter x reader

description - You'd had a crush on James Potter for years and when he kisses Lily Evans in front of you, you are heart broken. Later you find that he didn't actually feel as you expected and he explains himself.

warnings - some angst, unsure reader, fem pronouns, self doubt, negative self talk, not eating for a day cause reader is avoiding someone

word count - 2800

A/N - so this one isn't my best work by far but i wrote it so looks like its getting posted. i don't know why all of my reader inserts lately are so fem and sort of bubbly, i guess it's sort of what i'm aiming for for myself right now but i'm sorry if it maybe isn't coming off as relatable.

MASTERLIST

Your throat tightened in anxiety as you watched James zoom around the pitch. He was reckless when he was playing quidditch and it was one of the things that made him great at the game and an excellent captain. It was also the thing that nearly gave you a heart attack every time you watched him play. You went to every one of his games and you always wore something of his with his colors when you were in the stands. You were stood up on your seat and a slightly bored looking Remus sat to your right, reading from a book you didn't recognize. You'd thought that Sirius playing would be enough to keep him interested but sports was just not something he enjoyed watching. You were usually that way as well but whenever James was playing, suddenly you were the most intent spectator in the stands.

You were more worried than you should have been. More worried than what was appropriate for a friend to be. That's what you were, friends. That had been reinforced many times by the shaggy haired boy and you tried desperately to get it through your head before you embarrassed yourself one of these days. Sometimes though, you just couldn't help it.

Really you might have thought he reciprocated if you didn't know any better. You often got comments on what an attractive couple you guys were but each time it was quickly corrected by James. Normally along the lines of 'Oh god no, we are just friends. Purely platonic' , sometimes followed by a shudder or a gag even. It upset you every time to no end but you played along. You rarely, if ever, contributed to the shooting down of any feelings but that was never noticed by the man you had feelings for.

You'd had a crush on him since you were probably in your second year and now you were coming to the middle of your seventh. There were a million times that you almost said something but every time there was a reminder that you were not the one he had eyes for. It usually took the shape of disgust at the thought of dating you or commentary as he pined over the Evans girl who you felt you could never compete with. How could you when she was just perfect. You saw her to the left of you as she stood in the stands as well and your hands shook with insecurity before looking back toward the game. Your heart raced nearly as quickly as James did around the pitch and you prayed that the snitch would be caught soon so that you could get rid of the stress surrounding you. You felt a hand on your right shoulder and you looked over to find Remus had stood and was looking at you caringly.

"Are you alright, Y/N?" He asked softly and you tried your very best to soften your gaze and calm your stance so you appeared less concerned with someone that you shouldn't have that much interest in in the first place.

"Of course I am. When am I not?" You smiled before looking out at the pitch.

"When youre watching the guy you're in love with play a dangerous game that you don't like." He stated simply in response to the question you meant to be rhetorical and your eyes widened.

"I don't know what youre talking about." You nearly whispered and Remus smiled.

"I'm not gonna tell anyone Y/N but its not exactly subtle. It probably doesn't help that I know the look on your face because it's how I feel too watching Sirius play." He was still smirking but your anxiety was far from eased.

"Oh god, does he know?" You asked scaredly, terrified that the answer would be yes and you would have to stop spending time with him.

"Shockingly, no." You sighed out in relief but Remus continued. "You should tell him though or else he might end up moving on."

"What do you mean? There's nothing for him to move on from. Everyone knows he's in love with Evans and he has made it pretty clear that he is opposed to being anything more than a friendly relationship with me." You choked out, struggling with the words leaving your lips but knowing them to be true.

"I mean he has a minor crush on Evans but it's nothing compared to the annoyingly huge crush he has on you. He's probably just overcompensating for the fact that he's insecure and doesn't want you to reject him."

"Why are you telling me this?" You asked sincerely. You were friends with Remus as you were with the rest of the marauders but it was nothing compared to the friendship they held within their group. You knew Remus was more loyal to James than to you so you couldn't understand why, if it was true, Remus would be telling you at all.

"Because he is trying desperately to move on seeing as he is under the impression that you aren't into him and I'd hate to see him throw something away that could be really good for him." Remus smiled gently and you looked at him gratefully.

"I really appreciate you telling me and all but I just don't think I can believe you. I can't even count how many times he has made a big show of not liking me. I love him too much to ruin what we have and I know that if I confessed and it went bad that I would lose him all together. I would rather have him in my life in a way that hurts than not have him in it at all." You stated sadly and Remus sighed but nodded in understanding.

"I get it but just know that I'm being honest and pretty soon he is going to give up on it. I just want to see you both happy but if its too big of a leap, I understand. That's exactly the excuse he tells the rest of us too."

Suddenly cheers erupted from the stands, cutting your conversation with Remus off as everyone ran to rush the pitch. The snitch had been caught and gryffindor won. You were excited for James but you were also a little terrified to walk onto the pitch to see him with the now conflicted thoughts running through your head. Your thoughts were stopped by the image in front of you which was causing the whole crowd to cheer. James had pulled Lily Evans into a kiss in his excitement and your heart stopped. You felt nausea rise in your throat and Remus caught your eye with a sympathetic look. You didn't look at him for longer than a second and you ran off the pitch with tears streaming down your face. You found your way up to your dorm, pushing yourself to get there quickly before the common room filled with students celebrating their victory. James was always one to love attention so he would be getting crazy after the game which he did just about every time they won.

When you made it to your bed, you hurried under the covers, throwing the shirt you were wearing which belonged to James onto the floor. You felt your heart clench at the despair you felt. You wanted to be upset at Remus for getting your hopes up but you knew he was sincere in his want to help. Still you felt that you would probably not be able to face James in the weeks to come. Maybe, given a little time, you could be around him and not be upset at the world for taking away your chance with him. As you laid in your bed, you stared at the ceiling. You felt tears streaming down your face and you grew angry at yourself. He didn't owe you anything, he wasn't into you. That wasn't his fault and it was so unfair of you to expect anything more from him when your feelings were not his responsibility.

You weren't sure how long you laid there but you could hear the party start and end in the common room. It must have been late. Sleep wouldnt come though, you could just feel your heart continue to break and you were stuck in a loop of self pity. You made the decision that the following days would be spent away from James if you could at all help it. That was probably what he wanted anyway and it was the only way that you would get over the pain you were feeling. At some point your roomates entered your dorm and sleep overtook you for a few restless hours.

When you woke up, the sun was barely on the rise. You hurried up and got dressed and ready. You were planning on getting to breakfast early to avoid running into any of the marauders. You found your plans were not going how you wanted when you entered the great hall to find a head of red hair next to a mop of black. Your throat tightened and you quickly moved to turn and head out of the great hall. You heard a familiar voice call your name but you rushed out before you could give it too much thought. You knew that if you let him try to convince you, you would end up having a very upsetting breakfast with your best friend and his new lover. You would rather avoid breakfast.

Throughout the day, avoiding James was proving to be harder than you had thought it would be. You had many of your classes with him and you even sat next to him in a few. He was insistently trying to get you to open up about why you were suddenly so closed off to him but you remained shut off, reassuring him that nothing was wrong and you were just a little tired from the game the day before. You avoided lunch for the same reason as you had avoided breakfast and you felt yourself starting to get a bit lightheaded. Your afternoon was spent avoiding James but soon he was preoccupied with Lily anyway.

You were hid in a corner of the library when a cough alerted you of someone's presence. You looked up to find the very eyes you hadn't wanted to see.

You pushed it down with a gulp and smiled a bit at him, trying desperately to keep the tears at bay but they were growing harder to hold back after keeping everything pent up all day. It probably didn't help that you were hungry and therefor a bit more emotional. You could feel the tears sitting in your eyes, waiting for something to go wrong so they had an excuse to escape you.

"I don't know what I did wrong." He mumbled while looking at the floor in front of you and you took a deep breath.

"There's nothing wrong James, I promise. It's just been a long day." You smiled and your heart picked up speed.

"Since when did we lie to each other?" He questioned and your heart stopped. You were left unsure how to respond.

"Since the truth would cause more damage than good." You spoke honestly. At this he looked up at you and your eyes met. A tear left you and James immediately moved to comfort you but you tried to move away, standing quickly to evade him. You regretted it as spots filled your vision, the lack of food catching up to you. You know that you turned a bit green for a moment because James looked slightly scared.

"Y/N I dont know whats wrong but you look like you should be getting to the hospital wing. You don't look well."

Before you could answer you felt your vision blacken and your legs give out before your consciousness left you completely.

When you woke up, you knew you were in the hospital wing. It smelled sterile and the bed was stiff underneath you. When you started to wake madam pomfrey came to check on you.

"You can't go around with an empty stomach like that again, do you hear me?" She scolded, though her eyes were soft. You nodded solemnly. "I was alerted that you hadn't been to the great hall to eat all day, you have to know that isn't good for you. I'm gonna have a prefect watch out for you the next couple days to make sure you're eating at meal times. Understood?" She asked again and once more you nodded before leaning back and sighing. You looked at your surroundings and were surprised to see the black haired boy next to your bed fast asleep. Your heart took off again and you felt trapped by your environment. As anxiety swirled around in your chest, James had woken up a bit.

"You're awake." James sighed, laced with relief. You still wouldn't make eye contact with him.  You felt the bed dip as he sat on it and you looked up to watch him put his head in his hands as he leaned over. You felt guilt fill your chest more than it already had from hating that you felt any claim over the man in front of you. You knew you were in the wrong and the last thing you wanted was to cause him any pain. "Remus talked to me." He almost whispered.

At that moment, you wished you could have apparated to anywhere else in the world. You looked back down at your lap and tears were once again brought to your eyes. You felt betrayal that Remus would reveal your feelings to James.

"I'm sorry." You apologized and you fiddled with your fingers.

"Why are you the one apologizing, I'm the one whos behaved poorly." He assures and you shake your head.

"That's not fair to yourself. You're allowed to want to be with whomever you want and my feelings should have no effect on that. You've made it clear for years that you weren't interested in me and it is my fault that I couldn't take a hint. I'm so sorry." You gushed out and tears started to fall from your eyes. You felt James get up from your bed and you prepared him to leave but instead you felt arms wrap around you and a kiss came to your head.

"Y/N I have had feelings for you for years. I was just always too scared for myself to even consider that you might feel the same." He whispered out but you felt only a different kind of pain. Even though he had now admitted his feelings, he was still dating Lily. Not you. Almost as if he could hear your thoughts he spoke quietly. "I broke it off with Evans." You pulled away immediately.

"What? Why would you do that?" You asked quickly and before he had a chance to answer you feared the worst. "Oh god is it because of me? James please dont let my feelings have any bearing on who you want to date, I can't stand the thought of being the reason you broke up. Even if we do have feelings for each other, you deserve a chance with Lily if that's what you want."

"It was mutual, actually. She understood that I had feelings for you and she said she had a crush on someone else. It just seemed like I had kissed her a bit rashly on the quidditch pitch and we agreed that we shouldn't have gotten together in the first place. It was only a day anyway." He reassured as he explained himself and you calmed a bit.

"So what does this mean." You got out, almost inaudibly.

"It means that, if you'll have me, I'd like to take you out on a date." He stated as if it were the simplest thing in the world and you almost couldn't believe your ears. Before you were even thinking you were nodding quickly, causing spots to once again fill your vision and James grabbed your shoulders to stabilize you before you both laughed. He pulled you by your shoulders toward him and he caught your lips in a kiss that somehow expressed all of the years of repressed feelings. When he pulled away he smiled at you and sat back on your bed. He spent the rest of the day with you in the hospital wing talking about all of the places he was going to take you in the coming weeks.

[adorerdraco]

Not My Type (Like You) ✧ Draco x Reader

Request: you should like do a one shot or even another mini series about amortentia/love potions in general. i’d soooo read that

AU SEVENTH YEAR WHERE VOLDY NEVER CAME BACK <3 f**k that mf !

italics are for flashbacks <3 i love them if you couldn’t tell 

Warnings: mean!draco, cursing, more mature themes/ideas, little bit of spice towards the end teehee but not too much bc idk how to write smut to save my life

Words: 4.5K

A/N: I saw a tiktok that kinda inspired this and i couldn’t get the idea out of my heaaaad if anyone knows which one im talking ab send it my way so i can show !!!! ALSO I LOVE THIS ONESHOT I LOVE DRACO AND I AM IN MY FEELINGS this might be my new favoriteeeee

Draco Malfoy was insufferable.

The Prince of Slytherin was unbearable for many reasons, things you've been taking notice of since your first year at Hogwarts when you accidentally had the ”pleasure” of interacting with him when he called you stupid in a class for reciting a spell incorrectly. That day, a hostility blossomed. A hostility that ensued nothing but teasing, mocking, and criticizing that would sometimes go too far and you'd both have to be pulled away from each other by your friends’ before either of you said anything excessively harsh that had no return.

You often felt like Malfoy sought you out to bother you and only for that. You could be sitting in the Quad with friends, conversing and laughing like nothing in the world mattered, and a few minutes later you'd be hurling insults towards the blond across the courtyard after he would yell something infuriating to you with that smug smirk on his face and his goons laughing wildly beside him as if he just said the most hilarious thing they've ever heard. 

On the days you’d ignore him, not having the patience or the energy to deal with him, he would still somehow find a way to push your buttons. Little things here and there like passing you in the corridors and tugging at the ends of your hair gingerly like a child but enough to tick you off or sending you notes from across the class in the form a small fluttering bird with a lousy drawing of you usually with a message along the lines of, “Y/L/N, hopefully, this note finds itself in the nest of hair you have today xx DM.”

In all honesty, there wasn’t a day you didn’t encounter Draco and it’s been that way for seven long years. Neither of you ever gotten tired of mildly or spitefully bullying each other and neither of you ever dreamed of stopping. He was one of the few constants in your daily life, and you in his. It was like you both lived on annoying the other, and in the midst of all the chaos that you brought to one another; there was a small, teeny, tiny acquaintance - not that either of you would ever admit it. You may have noticed it the time you bet each other ten galleons for who would win in the Triwizard Tournament your fourth year and he bet on Viktor Krum while you on Cedric Diggory. (he’s very much alive i refuse to think otherwise.)

“So you’re telling me, your mother is the reason why you’re not at Durmstrang,” you scoffed. “This whole time I could have been saved four years of headaches.”

“You’re just jealous some of us have more opportunities than others,” he snarks back pompously. “Unlike you, I hardly believe you would be graceful enough to even be considered admission into Beauxbatons.”

You had gone to see the last task of the competition just like the rest of the schools, all packed tightly onto the stands and watching carefully the exit of the maze. Naturally, you had arrived with your own friend groups, but somewhere during the time of sitting there and even being a few rows behind the blond and his minions, the two of you had met in the middle bench after he was trying to prove something wrong to you. 

When Cedric appeared back in front of the stands with the glowing Triwizard cup held high over his head in victory and every Hogwarts student loudly celebrating, you had jumped up from your seat and shook wildly an irked Draco beside you. He roughly shrugged your hands off his stiff shoulder, looking up at you with a sneer that you met with a bright beaming smile.

“Pay up, Malfoy!” You held out your hand towards him, opening and closing your fingers to receive the bet money. “I believe it was ten galleons you owe me.”

He begrudgingly reached into his coat pocket and fished out the coins, counting them defeatedly before tossing them into your palm. “What a waste of galleons.”

“Hey, you made the bet,” you reminded him with a still very bright smile. You shoved the money into your pockets, keeping one of the gold coins in between your fingers, and gave him a small hair ruffle that he harshly recoiled from before you turned to jump back up towards the level of stands your friends were originally sitting at.

“Were you really sitting with Malfoy this whole time?” One of your friends questioned when you reached them, a goading smirk on his face.

“Ooooh, she definitely was,” another friend piped up, wiggling her eyebrows. “They’re obsessed with each other.”

“Shut up,” you smack her arm casually, showing the pair the one gold galleon you were holding. “We are not. I was only sitting with him to get my bet money.”

“Sure,” they drawled in unison, sniggering when you threw your head back in annoyance.

You looked down the rows to see the mop of white hair you just sent into disarray. He was slowly descending the stairs of the stands with Crabbe and Goyle following closely behind him. Almost as if he felt your eyes on his back, he turned back to look at you, his cold gray eyes gazing into yours. It was like everything around you went quiet, the only thing in your focus was him and all you could do was stare back. It wasn’t until your friends started stifling laughter and whispering “aww’s” that you snapped out of the short-lived and odd few second trance you were in. He waited for you to do something before he turned back around, and you did - by holding up both hands; the one golden galleon on your left and your middle finger on your right, grinning to yourself when he rolled his eyes throwing you the finger right back before he finally disappeared into the mob of people below.

You were briskly walking down the corridors, books held tightly to your chest with your friend at your side while you made your way to Advanced Potions with Slughorn after Snape finally made his way into the DADA position. It was an easy class, potions being something you had a knack for and it gave you enough leisure to mess with your “favorite” Slytherin who shared it with you. 

“Look there goes your boyfriend,” your friend teases, elbowing your upper arm roughly and nodding her head down towards the hall to the tall blond appearing around the corner and entering swiftly into the class.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you hiss. “I’m tired of everyone saying that. I hate him and he hates me, end of story.”

“You know when you say you hate him, it just sounds like the opposite,” she says tauntingly. “Besides, hate is a strong word and very misplaced. Maybe, it’s just years of built-up tension that both of you have been too nervous to do anything about.”

“Tension? Yeah, I want to strangle him,” you laugh to yourself at the thought.

“Not that tension, idiot,” she shakes her head, “I mean sexual tension...clearly.”

You gave her a horrified look mixed between being disgusted and being offended. You held your hand over your mouth and pretended to gag as dramatically as you could. “I am appalled that you would even say that. I would rather be locked in a room with Filch and Peeves and hear them argue and fight all day than to be with Malfoy like that.”

“Come on, think about it,” she encourages, stopping the two of you a little ways away from the classroom. “You guys 'hate' each other?” She finger quotes the hate, looking at you with a raised eyebrow. “When you hate someone, you don’t go out of your way to talk to them every day.”

“It’s not like that,” you wave a hand dismissively. “Also, this isn’t a cliche, this is real life. We hate each other, that is all there is to it.”

You picked up the walk again, your friend to following behind you while letting out a deep and exhausted sigh. You couldn’t help but think about what she said, sure, perhaps at one point you thought Draco was attractive with his bright silver hair, his glittering gray eyes, his little button nose that he would crinkle up every other word he spoke in his charming haughty voice, or the way he’d tower over you in the middle of a conversation gone wrong and he’d be talking lowly to you but all you’d be able to focus on was the sweet scent of apples and cologne that radiated off of him.

“No,” you whispered almost silently to yourself, forcing yourself out of your thoughts and shaking your head from side to side as if it was going to get the image out of your head. He was mean, disrespectful, arrogant, and insulted you daily - even if you both laughed about it or gave props for the perfect jabs.

The first thing your eyes landed on when you walked into the dingy Potions classroom was Draco, his focus trained on the ceiling as if he was deep in thought. Just as his eyes were about to flicker down towards you, and sensing that he was about to, you quickly avoided his gaze and concentrated onto Slughorn who was waiting patiently by his desk with a bubbling cauldron for you and your friend to join the crowd in front of him.

“Great! Now that we’re all here,” Slughorn began excitedly, fixing the sleeves of his robes as he grabbed the ladle in the cauldron and began stirring it while continuing his lecture. 

You were trying to listen, capturing only the professor’s last sentence as he called on someone who raised their hand. All attention was thrown out the window when you realized Draco was standing near said classmate, a look of annoyance suddenly clouding his features when his pale eyes met yours.

“What?” He mouthed. You ignored him, trying to turn your concentration back onto Slughorn but nothing he was saying made sense, and right as you caught a word you did understand, a shuffling and an abrupt arm knocking into yours threw you right back out of the loop.

“Watch it,” you snap hushedly when you notice who it is. “Why are you over here?”

“I can’t say hello to my number one fan?” He whispers back, snickering slightly when you scoffed quietly.

“Fan? Says the one who shoved his way through the crowd to come over here,” you grumble, crossing your arms. 

“I hardly shoved,” he mutters. “I only moved because I couldn’t see Slughorn from where I was standing. Not everything’s about you.”

“Really? Because to me, it seemed like you came over here for my attention.”

He let out a breathy chuckle, a patronizing smile making its way onto his face. The type of typical boy smile where his mouth is half agape with his tongue smoothing over his teeth as he stared off across the room with his fingertips rubbing thoughtfully against his jawline as he thought of what to say. You stood still as he bent down, nearing his mouth towards your ear and whispering hotly, “you wish, darling.”

Slughorn sent everyone to their paired tables, and as everyone began moving and Draco sauntered off away from you, you stood stuck there, shocked with the lingering chills that were sent down your spine from your archnemesis’ comment.

“I told you, you’re into each other,” your friend sang expectantly from behind you, grabbing onto your sleeve and directing the two of you towards your table. 

You were working peacefully at your workspace, cutting up, peeling, and crushing the ingredients that your friend was sliding across the surface to you. In the table behind you was where Draco was working annoyingly quiet, tossing the stripped stems of the roses at you that you had to peel, tiny thorns pricking at your ankles through your socks since the bigger thorns had been taken off for the potion. As payback, you would throw back loose extra pearl dust you ground up, giggling tauntingly when he would frown at you for getting the coarse white powder all over his Italian leather shoes and most definitely inside of them as well.

When you, and seemingly the rest of the class, had finally thrown in all the ingredients and the potion promptly finished brewing, beautiful clouds of white and pink smoke began rising from the cauldrons, each one having a lovely scent of first; freshly pressed high-priced linens, then a faint smell of a brand new racing broom out of a box with a freshly polished wood handle that then quickly transformed into a sweet harvest of apples, green specifically, and finally...

“Ugh, gross,” you pinched your nostrils closed, turning your body around and sending a scowl towards Draco’s way. “Malfoy, we get it, your cologne is expensive, now stop spraying it. I was smelling all these wonderful things and you ruined it.”

He arched an eyebrow at you, looking at you as if you were crazy. “Are you mad? I didn’t spray anything, I think you’ve finally lost it.”

“Well you laid it on too heavy this morning then, it reeks in here.”

“You’re one to talk, Y/L/N. Did you bathe yourself in that dreadful perfume you wear just now? And that ghastly lip shiner thing you use,” He sneers, crinkling up his nose. “I can’t even think straight, I might vomit.”

“Lip shiner? It’s called lip balm, you prat,” you retort, crossing your arms angrily. “Either way, I haven’t used or sprayed anything either so-”

“For Merlin’s sake!” Your friend suddenly exasperated loudly from beside you making you briskly whirl around to look at her, a look of pure annoyance etched onto her face. “Are you two really that daft? Honestly? Have you been paying attention to anything other than each other? For instance, the potion we just made?”

This gained the attention of your classmates around you in the surrounding tables, turning their heads slightly but not obviously with small knowing smirks on their faces while they snickered quietly and listened. It was soundless as you reached towards the book in front of your friend, pulling it painstakingly slow towards you in fear of the words that were written on the open page.

“Amortentia,” you muttered glumly as you read the page, pushing it away from you dejectedly as everything began to click.

“The reason you’re both smelling each other is because you’re what the other desires and is attracted to. Wow, what a revelation! As if the whole school didn’t already know.”

You were afraid to turn around. You could feel the cold and hard pair of eyes burning holes onto your back and the immediate amount of whispers and giggles of the people around you. Luckily, Slughorn was busy at the other end of the room, working diligently with another pair of students who managed to mess up their potion. 

“That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard,” Draco announces finally.

“What’s so ridiculous about it?” You questioned, your heart falling to the pit of your stomach when you turned again and took notice of the way his lips were curling upwards as if it was the most disgusting thing he could have ever heard.

“Think about it, Y/L/N,” he deadpans. “Why would I ever desire someone like you?”

There had been occasions over the years when you were in this situation. None as drastic and as revealing, but there would be times when friends and others would poke fun and say the exact same thing your friend told you earlier. The usual, “they got the hots for each other!” and you would always brush it off and joke about how you could never, and he’d do the same. It was always amongst laughs and jokes, but as you looked at the Slytherin in front of you - there wasn’t a hint of amusement on his hardened face.

“Piss off, Malfoy,” you seethed, biting down hard on your lip to refrain from lashing out either in tears or in insults, you couldn’t decide. “If I’m so revolting, leave me alone from now on, I mean it.”

“I never said that,” he argues. “You’re just simply not my type.”

For some eerie, awful reason, the words tore into you like a sharpened knife going easily through butter. You were used to his insults, his mocking, his comments about your appearances - but this hurt, and you couldn’t explain why. You thought, for a second, possibly, that maybe your friend was right. Maybe there was a hidden attraction you had for the platinum blond that you buried deep away and one that he had for you. There was no way that was the case now, not at all. 

And for the first time in your life, you couldn’t be more sure of a simple little fact.

You hated him.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 

You don’t know how long you spent sitting in Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom, back against the cold tiled wall with your knees brought up to your chest. Your friends had tried to console you after the public rejection and humiliation, but their words only made you feel worse. You felt silly for being so bothered about being rejected by Malfoy, he wasn’t exactly someone you fancied, to begin with.

After dinner, you went off the grid and found yourself where you’re now sitting. The ghostly girl flew restlessly around you, popping out of her stall now and then to chat but then going back into her abyss of nothing when she learned you were still upset. You noticed it made her a little too pleased, considering the fact it was always her who was miserably wailing about her problems in the bathroom. She tried to hide it and let you talk to her about how you felt, but she gave terrible advice most of the time. 

“Well, if it was me, I would have never started fancying someone who was mean to me,” she mumbled. “Like when Paul Wighorn made fun of my hair for a whole year and laughed when I cried. I hated his guts then and I still do now.”

She had a point, but she was also Myrtle. Nothing about the overly dramatic ghost made sense.

“I don’t fancy him, It’s just weird,” you trail off. “I can’t imagine a day without him, even if he is a complete arse. We always joked about how we hated each other, but I didn’t think he actually meant it, I guess.”

“I think you do fancy him, though,” she whispers knowingly in your ear, making you flinch from her cold draft. “Stop denying it, it’ll only keep making you feel worse. Amortentia doesn’t lie, silly. Maybe when you drink it, but before that, all real feelings are there, whether you know it or not.”

You sat quietly, taking in her words before something came crashing down onto you like a wall of bricks.

“I suppose that means he’ll have to stop denying it too,” she adds thoughtfully. 

“Myrtle,” you rush to get up, smoothing your hair down profusely and fixing the wrinkles in your clothes. “You’re a genius.”

“I am?” She asks excitedly. “What did I say?”

You waved her off, giving her another thank you before rushing out of the bathroom and into the empty corridors. You were trying to go back to your dorm to sleep, hoping that when tomorrow came you would be bold enough to confront the Slytherin Prince but it was thirty minutes past curfew, something you didn’t notice until you were bustling down the steps in a rush and came face to face with the man of the hour himself doing his Prefect patrolling duties.

“Go to your dorm, Y/L/N,” he sneers. “I’ll take away house points, don’t test me,”

“I don’t believe you.”

“That I’ll take away house points? Watch me. Five-”

“No, you twat,” you groan, swatting his arm with your hand. “I don’t believe that I’m not your type.”

He stayed wordless for a moment, biting the inside of his cheeks and clenching his jaw as he peered down at you from his lanky height. “Why not?”

“Because I didn’t think you were my type until the amortentia made me aware of it,” you answer quietly. “Actually, my friend had a hand in it, but it was mostly the potion.”

Silence, again. Still and deadly. You could hear the large clocks around the school tick and tock, the hundreds of paintings snoring peacefully or chattering quietly. You avoided looking up at the boy in front of you, all of a sudden feeling small under his gaze until you felt cold fingers brush against your cheekbone and then softly through your hair causing you to finally look up into the soft wandering almost blue eyes. 

“I didn’t find out with the amortentia,” he muttered almost reluctantly as if it was the most difficult thing he had to reveal. “I’ve known I’ve liked you for a while.”

“How long is a while?” You curiously wonder aloud.

“I’m not telling,” he smirks. “Perhaps you’ll figure it out one day.”

Both hands came up to rest on your cheeks, slightly cold but soft and tender. It sent chills throughout your body as he took a step closer to you and then closer, backing you carefully into the diagonally ascending stone wall that went in the direction of the stairs. Your breathing was getting uneven, you noticed the way you accidentally switched to manually forcing yourself to inhale and exhale normally when he leaned down with his face now being mere centimeters from yours. It was torture, having your eyes closed and feeling the way his nose was brushing against yours, minty breath warm against your lips as he ghosted over them with his. He was so close, you smelt everything that was in the damn potion that got you here. It sent flutters of warmth down your body, trickling down and seeping deeply into every bone in your body as if this is was the remedy its been needing. This is what you’ve been missing.

When you finally felt a soft pair of lips being pressed into yours, it felt almost unreal that you were there. It was awkward the first couple of seconds, both of you wondering how in the world had you gotten yourselves in this position, but after you relaxed and he found his Prince of Slytherin confidence - it was magic. His lips moved languidly against yours, affectionately and full of longing. He kept his hands on your cheeks, still timid to move anywhere else while you kept yours resting lightly on his sides. It scared you a little, how fast and how easily you melted into each other, like if this was something you’ve been doing with him for years rather than torment the other for laughs. 

You hated the feeling when he pulled away, a gust of freezing castle air passing through the space between you and cooling your lips and face from his contact. His hands dropped down to his sides and he looked down at you with a small smile, a teeny bit smug, but happy. You wanted to feel the same way, but a question still loomed over your head, overpowering the giddiness you were vividly feeling.

“Why did you lie earlier?” You question softly, directing your gaze to the floor. “In class, I mean.”

He thought about his answer for a second, sighing deeply when he realized he had to uncover more truths about himself to you. You took a mental observation at that, he didn’t like to talk about feelings. “You didn’t say anything. Didn’t even look at me. I thought I’d beat you to it and reject you before you could reject me.”

“What made you think I’d reject you?” You coaxed. “Other than the fact that I made you a sworn enemy at eleven.”

“Exactly that,” he laughed lightly. “You’re unpredictable, Y/N.”

You smiled to yourself at the realization that he finally used your first name. “So are you, Draco.”

“Not really,” he grins. “Like in just a few moments, for example, I’m going to start snogging you.”

You opened your mouth to encourage him but shut it quickly when he closed the space between the two of you again, this time much closer than he was before. He was flush against you, and when you say you could feel everything; you could feel everything. You were almost begging for him to lean down and kiss you again by the time you felt his hands on you again, running delicately around the exposed skin of your hips when your shirt hiked up an inch on accident. He leaned down again, and with the advantage of his lowered height, you let your hands slide up his arms, biceps, and ultimately the nape of his neck where your fingers continued up into his hair. The breathiest gasp escaped his throat as you tugged at the ends gently, smirking to yourself when he closed his eyes in delight at the touch.

His lips came down onto your fast this time and hastily, pressing himself impossibly closer into you. You could feel his grip tighten against your hips, his hold moving upwards onto your waist as he continued to kiss you fervently. His teeth bit down softly on your bottom lip and you wasted no time in parting them slightly for his tongue to meet yours. You tugged at the platinum strands of hair again, feeling triumphant when a low groaning sound emitted from his throat at the sensation as he tilted his head to deepen the kiss further.

You knew you were done for when one of his hands slowly slid up your upper body, stopping first at your collarbones with warm fingertips fluttering over the skin, before he moved it upwards completely and he now had his large hand wrapped comfortably around your neck. You gasped in delight into the kiss, a swarm of butterflies going directly to your lower stomach as he squeezed against the artery in your neck meticulously, the coldness from his Malfoy family crest ring only adding fuel to the fire. He tore his mouth away from yours with his hand still clutched firmly around your throat and you were almost sent into orbit with the look he was giving you. A look filled with desire, adoration, and intensity - his pale gray eyes were much darker, almost a dark blue that resembled the starry night sky on a summer night.

Lips reattached themselves roughly and feverishly against your jawline, peppering long and tender kisses all the way towards your ear and then down towards your collarbones where he was beginning to undo the rest of the top buttons of your school dress shirt. You felt him smile against your hot skin when you’d writhe underneath him, emitting weak whimpers that you couldn’t hold back that he ended up having to clasp a free hand over your mouth as he whispered into your ear to stay quiet.

It didn’t matter that you were in the middle of a poorly lit corridor where anyone could walk past and see the frenzy that was unfolding, nor did it matter to Draco that his Prefect duties were long forgotten. Your friend was right, and everyone else for that matter; it wasn’t hate you felt for the blond at all, it was years and years of a craving and a hidden yearning packed with displaced tension.

And now, you were both exactly where you wanted to be; together.

[folkloreguk]

French Class [2]

A/N: I hope you all enjoy this part! I’m excited to put out more parts soon!

genre: optional bias (m) x reader (f), smut, oral (f receiving), car sex, dirty talk, college!au, nerd!reader, fuckboy!bias

words: 4.4 k

✽series masterlist✽

taglist (lmk if u wanna be added!): @lovely-ateez

“And then he asked me if I would wear his tie around my neck while he- Hello? Earth to Y/N? Are you there?” Your roommate, Chohee, waved her hand in front of your face from across the table. You had occupied the seats in the back of the Chinese restaurant, in a niche where you were mostly hidden from other customers. Turns out, for all the spicy stories she had in store – as always – that had been a great idea.

“I swear your thoughts have been all over the place lately. Are you sure you have nothing to talk about?” She twirled a strand of her dyed pink hair around her fingers while she mustered you suspiciously.

“I’m sorry, I zoned out. It’s nothing, I’m just tired. I’ve been studying day and night. Looks like you’re the only one with the stories today. Just start again from the part where he got the whipped cream from the fridge,” you said.

“We went over that part five minutes ago! Have you paid any attention?” Chohee shook her head with a grin. Then she began her bedroom-adventure story from the beginning, because she knew as well as you, she loved talking about it.

Truth was, you had one hell of a story to tell. And no, you had not been paying attention. Not because you were tired. Not because you had studying on your mind. But because one hundred percent of your focus was currently directed at the boy only a few tables from yours. You only saw the back of his head, but there was no doubt about his identity. The mop of hair was unmistakable. Plus, he was in his famous black leather jacket. There was no mistaking this piece of clothing. It was decorated with white splatters of acrylic paint and had his name written messily across the top of his back. You could just about make out the tips of the letters as he leaned back comfortably, legs spread on his chair, chatting to his friend.

Chohee had no idea about the grip the person behind her had on you. She was your closest friend, and yet you hadn’t broken the news to her: You were hooking up (and not just once) with the so-called “hottest guy on campus”. AT least those had been her words when she had first told you about him. Lately you had to admit, you were starting to agree. It wasn’t like you wanted to keep secrets from her. In fact, on many occasions you had almost crumbled and told her the full story. Had she not been such a chatterbox, and did she not love gossiping as much as she did, you swore she would already know about your little arrangement with him.

She was aware of this much: You and him were casual friends. Study buddies, one would say. You had subtly passed over the little details of your friendship. How grocery store visits sometimes turned into visits to his dorm because of a simple text of his, or how you had sneaked out on more than one occasion in the middle of the night because he had told you his dormmates weren’t home. It wasn’t weird to Chohee that you brushed over the particularities of your “one-night-stands” when you returned in the mornings. You had never been as big on sharing as she was.

Maybe you wanted to keep things to yourself out of fear what people would say, too. You couldn’t care less whether people knew you were sleeping around. But everyone knew him, or so it seemed. Girls wanted him. Boys wanted to be him. All you desired was his friendship and some fun. You had no interest in being known on campus or having people you’ve never met giving you the side-eye over having sex with an oh-so-special boy. One day you would tell Chohee all about it. You weren’t technically lying. Just not sharing the entire story.

“Remember how I said H/N was the hottest guy ever?” Chohee suddenly said. The sound of his name made your head snap back to reality.

“Oh, now you’re listening, I see. All it takes is for me to mention your new bestie,” she teased. “You shouldn’t get too attached to him. I have a feeling that girls are interchangeable to him, either way. Anyway, I’ve decided I find his friend Korain much more attractive, since I’ve been hooking up with him.”

Would it be weird to correct her? To promise her, when you had more time and weren’t so distracted, you would lay the truth on her? He isn’t like that at all, you wanted to say. Yes, he liked female attention. But that didn’t make him a bad guy. Would it sound crazed to explain how he knew how you took your coffee, and how he sent you pictures of your favorite animals before your exams to take some of the nerves away? Or how he reported that it took him exactly 1,012 steps to get to your dorm from his place? Multiple times you had tried to count the distance yourself, but you never seemed to have enough focus to make it. Something always caught you off guard. You had doubted his credibility, but he swore he wasn’t bluffing.

Speaking of his friend Korain – who was at this very Chinese restaurant with H/N – he was suddenly making eye contact with you. Before you could slide lower into your seat like a frightened animal, he had grinned at you. Oh no. Prompted by his friend’s smile in your direction, H/N now turned his head. You were thankful Chohee was still deep in her explanation on why she had changed her opinions on the two very boys only a few tables away. If only she knew.

H/N’s eyes caught yours and a smirk plastered on his face. You assumed the tiny smile you sent him would do, but no. The two young men had collected their things and were getting ready to leave. The exit was the opposite direction, and yet H/N took the long way there. His stride was that of a model as he approached your table.

“Y/N,” he said, voice sweet like sugar candy and his smile charming like famous artwork. “You wanna hang at the library later?”

Chohee was now eyeing him as if she was your bodyguard and he was an obsessed fan who had crossed into your personal space. All you could think of was how you wanted him as your dessert. Now. But you had an exam coming up in a few days. So, his invitation fit just right.

“I’ll be there.” You smiled politely. He gave you a raised eyebrow, but then nodded, said goodbye, spun around and followed his friend out of the restaurant. When you looked at Chohee, she was already giving you eyes that asked a billion questions at once. Fantastic. Now you’d have to explain that “hang at the library” was not some sort of codeword for sex, but you had – against all odds – convinced the local prince of fuckboys that studying wasn’t such an atrocious idea after all. But fate saved you before you could begin your clarification.

“Oh no! Where has the time gone? I have to get to my afternoon lecture!” Chohee exclaimed, quickly gathering her purse and jacket. “My professor will curse me if I’m late again!”

And with that, she scrambled up from the table. “Don’t think you’re getting off easy just because I have to go! I demand a good story when I get home!”

You knew she was just being dramatic, and should you decide to keep everything to yourself for another month, she wouldn’t be mad. And yet, the urge to tell her crept up on you as you watched her hurry out of the door while waving one last time. Your morning classes had been the only appointment in your calendar for the day. So, with nothing else to do, you fished for your phone to message him for a time to meet at the library.

~

“What were you being so weird for earlier?” he asked as he plopped down on the wooden chair across from you. His books slammed on the table, and you flinched a little. Boys.

“Thanks for reminding me why I chose to sit in the group project area today. Could you be any louder in a library?” you said. “And thank god we’re the only ones here.”

“Thanks for reminding me that you’re still great at avoiding questions,” he returned.

“I just didn’t want my friend to ask questions.”

“So you talked to me like a five year old would respond to their kindergarten teacher? Are you embarrassed to be seen with me? The guy with the reputation?”

“No, I’m not. Wait? What? And what kind of reputation would that be, if I may ask? The you-only-sleep-with-a-girl-once-reputation?”

“You should know the nastiest rumors mostly prove to be false. I was thinking of something more delightful. Like a gives-the-best-head-on-campus-kind of reputation.”

You snorted. “And who is going to do the research to prove that?”

“Why don’t you look around and report back to me?” he smirked.

“No thanks. I’m already hooking up with a guy who’s more than a handful.”

He faked taking offence in your words with a theatrical gasp. “Is that so? The girl I’m hooking up with isn’t much better. Always asks to hang at the library like she doesn’t beg me to fuck her the second we get out of there.”

“Let me remind you that you were the one who suggested this place today,” you said. “I was ready to jump into your bed and you had to stall time like this.”

“Are you for real? What are we still doing here, then?” he asked, and you tilted your head with a suggestive grin that mirrored his.

15 minutes later:

“Who the fuck stores five umbrellas in their car?” You kicked another one off the backseat you were lying on. Your bra was exposed beneath your shirt which he had pushed up on your chest and was now attacking the exposed skin with hungry kisses.

“That’s what you get for not getting it on in the library,” he muttered against your skin without looking up.

“We’d be asking to get suspended from there by doing that,” you said. “And I cherish my library very much.”

He only made a snickering noise and shook his head before he went to take off his shirt – and promptly hit his head on the car roof. “Ow! This sucks. I can barely move.”

“That’s what you get for not waiting until we’re at your place,” you teased him with his own words. But judging by the prominent bulge in his pants, you supposed you didn’t want him driving anywhere. Not with naughty things on his mind, and with you next to him to only make him hornier. Your eyes fell on the dark purple spots on his abdomen, and you grinned.

“Wow. Someone must have worked hard to make that stomach even prettier,” you said.

“Yeah, you would know all about that, wouldn’t you?” He bent down to your ear and his husky tone sent cold shivers up your spine. Of course, you knew. You were the one who bit and sucked the hickeys into his skin two days ago, after all. His hands palming your boobs through your bra drew out a desperate sigh from you.

“Let’s play a game. What do you say?” he asked.

“What kind of game would that be?” Your interest was roused. He was lost in thought for a moment, hands slowly running up and down your exposed legs. Luckily, you had opted for a skirt today. All he’d had to do was to push it up to your belly and get rid of your underwear after your short but very steamy make-out session on the backseat. The cool air on your exposed core was only magnifying your impatience.

“Whoever comes first, loses.” You couldn’t suppress a chuckle at his idea, and he eyed you with indignation. “You don’t like it?”

“Everyone knows women take longer to orgasm than men do,” you said. “Are you trying to dig your own grave or what?”

“That’s why I’ll have a head start,” he announced. His hands circled the skin close to your core, creeping up your thighs slowly.

“And what’s the prize for winning?”

“The loser owes the winner a favor.”

“Too vague. I don’t trust you with that.”

“I don’t trust you, she says as she waits for me to fuck her in my car,” he mocked.

“I don’t trust your crazy ideas,” you clarified. “What about this? The winner pays for the loser’s next meal when we eat together.”

“Deal.” He slid his fingers over your pussy, and you crumbled into a whining mess within seconds. No matter how much your head denied it, he really was the best. He caught your clit between his digits and your eyes rolled to the back of your head for a moment.

“Shit, you only turn me on more if you’re going to moan like that.” He lowered his head and spit on your center, and the laughter that had been bubbling in your throat died in an instant. His fingers rubbed your nub fast and spread his saliva – without doubt his attempt at tipping you closer to the edge before he had even begun to fuck you.

“Too bad you find me so hot,” you said, and let out a purposely dramatic whimper, followed by his name in your best fake-porn-voice. His smile had something wholesome, as if he was admiring his friend making silly jokes, but also a glint of playfulness. You knew had been a mask when he bit his lip and exhaled slowly. With ease, he slid his middle finger into you. As he curled it against your sweet spot, he bent down to suck on your clit and your back arched at the sudden pleasure.

“Too bad you’re going to lose,” he said, and then continued his antics. Had he continued this way for another few minutes, his words wouldn’t have been so far from the truth. But you had other plans.

“Are you going to fuck me now?” you asked. “That’s enough of your head start.”

“I only just tasted you. Why would it be called a head start, if you’re going to stop me two minutes into giving you head?” he asked and you would’ve slapped his shoulder, had he been close enough. Instead, you closed your eyes for a few seconds. He was the competitive one here, and you didn’t mind enjoying yourself for now. Sighing in temporary defeat, your head fell back onto the seat. The sun was shining its last rays through the car window. They caught in his curled eyelashes and on his skin, coloring him golden.

“That’s a good girl,” he said, arm snaking around your thigh. He held on to you, but it wasn’t as if you could have moved away from him. Your head was right by the car door. His lips around your clit paired with his finger steadily rubbing against your sweet spot inside of you made you feel like floating. His free hand touched your leg gently, caressing your skin as if he wasn’t also simultaneously pushing you to the urge to yell out his name in pleasure. You tangled your fingers in his soft hair, as if you needed to do so to keep him in place. But something in the back of your mind still had a desire for winning. Trying to collect the last bits of your dwindling sanity, you hatched a plan. Good on you – you knew just what rode him into madness.

“I- I need you to fuck me, please,” you begged, making sure to add an extra layer of tragedy to your voice. “Please, I want it so bad.”

He looked up at you, a dark glint in his eyes. Of course, he did. All was going according to plan. It wasn’t like you had known him all your life, but you were perfectly aware of one thing. He could never resist your dirty talking and begging.

“Please?” you bat your eyelashes ever so longingly at him.

“Is that so?” He was now straightening up. His black pupils were dilated, and he was looking at you with the expectation of a loyal puppy waiting for his treat. You grabbed the front hem of his pants and pulled him towards you. In a moment, you had unzipped the material for him.

“I want you to fuck me like you did the first time we met. At the party,” you said. “Do you ever think about it, too?”

“Fuck, of course I do,” he said. Faster than you could register, he was ripping a condom wrapper and sliding it onto his free length. His cock stood angry and hard against his stomach. Perhaps your dramatic words weren’t so far-fetched. You couldn’t wait for him.

“Then do it, please,” you said. “Right now, this pussy is all yours. Use it the way it should be used.”

He muttered a swear under his breath and you knew he was in the palm of your hand. His hot breath fanned your neck as he bent over you, cock aligned with your exposed core. For a moment his length slid through your wetness, and he groaned at the warmth that was about to engulf him.

“I’m so fucking wet,” you moaned. “And all for you.”

You would have been lying if you said you weren’t enjoying the exaggerated show you were putting on for him as much as he did. Although, you weren’t sure whether you were allowed to call it exaggeration, at all. Your walls clenched around nothing as the tip of his cock touched your juices and he eyed you like he could’ve eaten you up right then and there.

When he finally entered you, he instantly sighed. His eyes were shut tightly as he dealt with the impact of feeling you around his shaft. A small spark of triumph went through you. That was, until he pushed your legs up and snapped his hips against yours. A sharp, sudden burst of pleasure shot through you and the coil in your stomach tightened all at once. You suspected your plan was backfiring slightly. Your words not only appealed to him and his famished mind and body. They also got to your head, and there you were, barely able to contain yourself under a load of blind hunger.

“You want me to fuck you senseless, huh?” he asked. His words went straight to your core. Nonetheless, you had a goal to work towards and you weren’t set on giving up.

“Yes, oh my god,” you whimpered. “That’s all I’m asking for. Please, I know you can. You always fuck me so well.”

In response, he rammed his body into yours so abruptly, you gave off a noise of surprise and pleasure at the same time. He bent his upper body over yours to support himself. His hands lay flat on the seat on both sides of your head. His thrusts made your legs shake now and then, when his cock hit that one spot inside of you. It was causing you to see entire galaxies on the inside of your eyelids. When you blinked up at him, the sun had disappeared beyond the horizon. Darkness had always suit him better than the golden sunset, either way. The muscles in his arms flexed and his eyebrows furrowed, and for a moment you called victory yours. But you couldn’t be sure for longer than a moment.

Because from one second to another he straightened up and slowed his thrusts. The gradualness had something equally as striking. He dragged his cock through your scarlet walls and his fingers found your clit. You drew out a ragged breath and cursed him for regaining the upper hand. Yet, you quickly abandoned the thought of defeat. When you allowed yourself to feel the pleasure, every last thought vanished at last. You moaned and whimpered helplessly. Without overthinking, you wrapped your hand around his wrist. He shot you a confused smirk.

“Too much, baby?” he said. “Think you won’t be able to handle it? A shame. It would really be too bad if you lost. You were doing so well up to now.”

You swallowed, hard. His patronizing voice tugged at your nerves and yet you loved when he spoke to you this way during sex. And he was aware of it – hence his knowing grin.

“Don’t stop moving,” you asked him to keep up his thrusts. “It’s not fair, otherwise.”

“Oh no. I would never dare break the rules,” he said.

He did as you said, and it only made things more mind-consuming for you. You were again reminded of the small tornado raging in the pit of your belly, threatening to consume you all over. It was only a matter of time. But what he could do, you could do better.

“Do you like fucking me in my skirt?” you taunted him, blinking ever so sweetly. Your eyes were dripping honey as you put on your most innocent gaze. “Am I pretty like this?”

“You’re the prettiest,” he muttered, biting his lip as if he was stopping a thousand moans from spilling out. “So. Fucking. Hot.”

“If I wear this skirt to class tomorrow, and you see me in the halls, will you think of this moment?” you asked. His fingers on your clit were shaky and moving unevenly. You might have been digging your own grave along with his. You didn’t care. Too many lectures you had wasted, barely able to concentrate because of the boy on top of you.

“Definitely. You weren’t wearing that earlier, at the restaurant,” he said. You wondered how many people had ever seen him this way – utterly breathless, all his cool vaporizing at once.

“Good observation,” you said, but you were struggling with your words as much as he was unable to keep calm. What was meant to sound lazy and seductive had morphed into a whimper and small sighs. “I wasn’t. I- I put it on just for you.”

He cursed again and abandoned all his remaining self-control. His grip on you was iron-tight and you clenched your fists. Oh, how you wished you could have buried your head into a pillow, or better even, the crook of a neck. Instead, you moaned his name almost soundlessly and searched for his dark eyes.

“Say my name again,” he demanded, like it was his last request on earth. So, you obeyed, only because you would have done anything for him right now, if it meant that he would keep fucking you that way.

“Oh my- my god,” you moaned. “Please don’t stop, fuck-“

“You look so hot right now, baby,” he groaned. “Shit- I could come just looking at you.”

“Then do it,” you said. Challengingly, you both smirked at each other. It lasted only the blink of an eye. You felt your insides twist before you could have prevented it. And all of a sudden, you crashed. Your intense orgasm erupted, and it took you several seconds to realize it, but then you heard it. His high-pitched moans, quiet and curse-stricken, could only mean one thing. You weren’t the only one, and therefore not the first to reach your high. A content smile spread on your face as his messy thrusts went on for a short while and you bathed in the remaining moments of bliss.

Silence set in as you both kept still to catch your breaths. You worried he would pin the loss on you, nonetheless, and inwardly braced yourself for his accusations. But to your surprise, he only laughed and collapsed on top of you. His breath tickled your neck slightly.

“We’ll be splitting the bill, I suppose?” he said. He straightened up to look you in the eyes playfully.

“Looks like it,” you said. You guessed his fighting spirit had been appeased and his energy had been spent on better things than arguing with you. You never minded it.

~

“Did you have a nice study session? Does the library lady assume you’re homeless and actually living there, yet?” Chohee teased as you entered your shared kitchen. She was typing on her phone but looked up when you only laughed.

“Is that a hickey?” she asked, and you knew you were done for. “What exactly is it you were studying? H/N’s body?”

“I guess I should tell you. Sooner or later, you’ll know,” you relented.

“Tell me what? Oh my god. Are you guys dating? Are you dating H/N?”

“No! You know I have no time for a boyfriend,” you said. “But…we’ve been hooking up.”

“Damn girl,” she said. “What do you have on him that he keeps coming back?”

“Excuse me? Am I really that boring of a company?”

“No. You’re the best company I could ever ask for, obviously,” she said, smiling at you. “But you remember his reputation. He sleeps with the same girl only once.”

“It’s just a stupid rumor,” you said. “Besides, we’re not just hooking up. He’s my friend. You already knew that.”

“Friend, huh?” Chohee asked. “Alright. So, you’re telling me he can hang out with you without trying to get it on?”

“He can, actually. And let me tell you, he’s cool. And pretty funny, too,” you said. She raised her eyebrows at you. “We’ve set some rules. We hook up, but also hang out as friends. Neither is allowed to be upset when the other turns down sex. We can both hook up with anyone else, still. No jealousy, no attachments. Just a good time.”

“Alright,” Chohee nodded. “If you’re so close, do you think you could introduce me to some of his friends sometime?”

You laughed, nodding. Chohee and H/N had quite some things in common, you realized then. Maybe that’s why you liked the two of them so much.

“Let’s see how long that lasts, then. Don’t wrap him too tightly around your finger, or he might trip and fall,” she winked. It was your turn to raise your eyebrow. Whatever she might have been insinuating – you had zero plans of making it reality. (Yet.)

[idkxwriting]

Could you please do a smutty fluffy oneshot where the reader is a witch and meets Elijah (around when he first appears on TVD, before Damon daggers him) and they're drawn to one another. And despite Damon not trusting him (he can be jealous if you wanna add that) the reader decides to invite Elijah into her home and get to know him. They bond, kiss, and do the sexy times. Also I think it would be cute if he said something about feeling alive with her for the first time in centuries.

“You did what!?” Damon stood in your doorway, his icy stare enough to make most people reconsider.

But you weren’t most people.

“I know what I’m doing, Damon,” you rolled your eyes and turned away from him only to find him in front of you once more.

Anger burned in his eyes, and you knew for a man with very little patience to begin with that you were pushing your luck. "Really? Because it sounds like to me you just invited Elijah Mikaelson for dinner."

You shrugged. "And a drink."

“You invited a vampire over for a drink?” His eyes narrowed. "You do hear yourself, right?" He snapped.

“Not that kind of drink," you were exasperated.

"I can't protect you from him," Damon growled.

"And I'm not asking you to," you countered. "I can protect myself." As you stepped around him once more, you felt the rage rolling off of him in waves. You knew Damon well, so you anticipated his next move, bringing your hand up and summoning your magic to drop him to his knees before he could attack.

Damon cried out, gripping his head in pain. You had never had an aneurysm personally, but you could only assume it was excruciating. You decided he had enough, releasing him. He panted, the pain subsiding as his body healed.

"See?" You smirked.

He glared at you, and you knew that had you been anyone else, you'd likely be dead - whether that was because of you were a witch or because Damon had a soft spot for you, you couldn’t decide. "I don't trust him."

You shrugged. "Well I do."

"Why!?"

"I can't explain it, Damon," you sighed. "There's something about him...I feel like I need to do this. Like I'm being drawn to him, and I need to figure out what that means."

Damon opened his mouth to argue when you cut him off.

"All I’m asking you to do is trust me."

He scoffed. "Maybe if you didn't make such colossally stupid decisions..."

You raised your brows at him. "I haven’t been on your case about you being drawn to Elena, have I?”

He narrowed his eyes.

“Exactly.”

He looked at you incredulously. "Elena isn't plotting our deaths..."

"Elena is alive because Elijah wants it that way. And he's saved your life what? Three times now?"

Damon rolled his eyes. "And what about when he decides he no longer needs Elena alive? Or me?"

You didn't have an answer for that - only a gut feeling. "We're missing something, Damon. I can't explain it, I just know I need to do this..."

He nodded, knowing you were stubborn and there was no changing your mind. He sighed heavily, walking over to a bookcase and pulling out a very large, very old book. The leather spine cracked as he opened it to reveal the pages had been hollowed out, and he took out an object wrapped in a white cloth. "Then here, take this."

You stepped towards him, and as he unwrapped it, you realized it was the dagger, a small jar of ash from the white oak tree beside it. "Damon..."

He shook his head, his face sullen. "Y/N, I've been around long enough to know when I'm fighting a losing battle with you. And if you're going to insist on being this stupid," he held the dagger out to you. "I at least need to know you have a backup plan."

You nodded, dipping the dagger in the ash before placing it carefully into your jacket. "I have to go," you whispered.

He rolled his eyes. "Wouldn't want to keep him waiting..."

*****

You paced in your kitchen, suddenly nervous as you waited for Elijah to arrive.

You couldn't pinpoint exactly what it was. Sure, he was attractive, and his charm was refined, but there was something more. A gravity pulling you into him that you couldn't seem to escape.

Maybe Damon was right, maybe this was crazy. Elijah wasn't exactly safe - you had no reason to trust him. You considered the dagger hidden in your sweater, feeling as if even having it in your possession was a betrayal. Still, you weren't sure where the sense of loyalty came from. Before you could think on it any longer, you took it out.

A gentle knock alerted you to his arrival, and you panicked, shoving the dagger in the knife drawer before making your way to the front door. You looked yourself over once more, fixing your hair and wiping your palms on your thighs.

You took a deep breath, steeling your nerves. You swung the door open, the air leaving your lungs as you took in the sight of him.

He stood in a pristine suit. He oozed confidence, but the hint of a smile he offered you was reserved. His eyes were warm, and as they traced over you you felt the heat rise to your cheeks.

“Good evening, Y/N.”

You managed a breathy hi in response, and swallowed, leaning up against the door for balance as you felt the familiar pull. You waited for a moment and he let out a soft chuckle.

“Are you going to invite me in?” He asked calmly.

You shook your head, as if clearing the fog. “Right, yea, of course...sorry...” you muttered. “Elijah,” your eyes met his, a heaviness settling over the two of you, as if the invitation wasn’t just into your home, but your life. “Would you like to come in?”

He unbuttoned his jacket, placing his hands in his pockets as he stepped over the threshold with ease.

He maneuvered with a gracefulness you could never hope to possess and you were mesmerized with each movement. He stepped into your space, crowding you and making you realize you hadn’t backed up to give him room. He looked down at you, and your breath hitched at being so close to him.

His smile was knowing and soft, like he was holding something back. As if he had a secret. He took a deep breath, his eyes tracing your neck. “It smells delicious.”

You froze, unsure if you had made a mistake. Still, something in you stirred though, a curiosity that had you wanting to offer him everything.

“Are we having Italian?” He asked with a smirk.

You bit your lip, glad that his teasing broke the tension. “Umm, yea,” you laughed before remembering the oven. “Shit!”

You rushed to the kitchen, Elijah forgotten for a moment as you tried to save the lasagna you had slaved over. You grabbed pot holders, tearing the oven open and pulling out the ceramic dish. In your hurry you lost your grip, and it fell to the floor.

Elijah hadn’t been quick enough to save your grandmother’s recipe, or maybe it wasn’t where his priority had been, but he had rushed in, spinning you away from the scalding hot dish that splattered before you could even process what had happened.

In his movements you had lost your balance, but he steadied you, pulling you into him. You had your hands on his chest. Your gazes locked, his breath mingling with yours as he straightened up, steadying you with ease before releasing his grip on you.

Your hands remained on his chest for a moment longer before you stepped away from him. “Thank you,” you whispered before turning to see the damage. Tomato sauce was all over your kitchen floor, and you were grateful he had saved you from a burn. You should have been upset that you had nothing to offer him for dinner, but you began to laugh. It was soft at first, and he watched you in amusement as it bubbled up, tears building in your eyes. “I’m sorry,” you howled. “But I slaved over this all afternoon...and you don’t even eat.”

He chuckled at that, and you grinned at the sound.

“You’re a vampire, and I know it’s just a myth, but that thing is loaded with garlic. Kind of funny...”

The irony wasn’t lost on him, but he was distracted, taken with how carefree you seemed. Something he was not used to humans being in his presence. You were so alive, something he hadn’t felt in a long time.

Until recently.

“Perhaps some wine,” he grinned.

The sight was enough to pull you from your fit of giggles, and you knew you’d do almost anything to pull that smile from him again. “Okay,” you agreed. You stooped down, using the pot holders to pick up the dish and dump it in the sink to be dealt with later. “You get the wine, I’ll clean this up,” you opened the closet, pulling out your mop.

He had offered to help, but you insisted, so he dug out a bottle of merlot from your cabinet while you made quick work of cleaning up the sauce.

“Do you have a bottle opener?” He asked, examining the label.

You placed the mop in the corner, it would need to be cleaned out, but it could wait. You glanced over your shoulder. “Second drawer to your right,” you replied as you moved to get wine glasses.

His movements stilled, and when you turned you found him holding the dagger in his hand, his eyes searching yours. “Tell me, Y/N,” he spoke slowly and deliberately. “What exactly did you have planned this evening?”

You moved next to him, pouring the wine and offering a glass to him.

He considered you for a moment, before taking the glass and placing the dagger on the counter between the two of you, the hilt facing you. If you wanted to, you could reach it with ease, and maybe he’d be quick enough, but something in you told you he wouldn’t stop you. Whatever your next move was, he was leaving it entirely up to you.

He sipped his wine in quiet contemplation, waiting for you to make your decision.

You opened the knife drawer, placing the bottle opener back inside. You picked up the dagger, twirling it in your fingers for a moment before placing it back where he had found it. You looked up at him, his head was cocked, an eyebrow raised in curiosity. “Dinner, drinks...pleasant conversation. Of course, that was before I ruined the dinner,” you added.

His eyes narrowed, as if he were trying to piece you together. “Perhaps,” he said. “However I believe we’ve remedied the drinks.”

“And the conversation?” You asked. He grinned again, and your heart pounded at the sight. He was achingly beautiful.

“I find conversation is almost always pleasant with you,” he admitted softly.

You took a sip of your wine. “Almost always?” You questioned.

He shrugged, a levity behind his eyes. “I believe you told me to...what was it?” He made a show of pretending to comb through his memories and you winced. “Go fuck myself, was it?”

The curse sounded foreign from his lips, as if something so crude didn’t belong coming from someone so noble, and you couldn’t help but chuckle in embarrassment. “To be fair, you were threatening my friend...”

He nodded, his tongue darting out and wetting his lips. You followed the movement. “Ahh yes, Damon Salvatore,” there was a hint of distaste in his voice, but you didn’t press the issue. After all, the feeling was mutual. “For all of his flaws I can see he cares about you.”

You nodded. “He’s my best friend,” you offered.

“And yet you’re here with me. I assume Damon provided the dagger.”

“He’s just looking out for me.”

He nodded at that, and you wondered if there was a hint of respect there. “He protects those he loves...”

“One of those qualities that keeps me hanging around,” you shrugged.

He took another sip. “Tell me, what is keeping you here with me?”

A heaviness settled between you as you considered your answer. “Gravity,” you breathed. You weren’t sure why you had made that confession, but something about the way he looked at you told you that he could be trusted. That he’d protect you, too. “It’s like every time I try to put some distance between us, I am pulled back in even further,” your voice was a whisper. “What is that?” You blushed, turning away and sipping at your wine.

“Gravity,” he repeated as though trying it on.

Your eyes shot to his again, and you found yourself inching closer in a trance. You were pulled out of the moment when your stomach rumbled loudly. Your face flushed. “Sorry,” you chuckled.

He straightened his posture, leaving space between you once more. “Let’s find you something to eat, shall we?”

You beamed as he took off his suit jacket, rolling up his sleeves and getting to work, rifling through your fridge. He ignored your protests, insisting that in all of his years he has managed to learn a thing or two, and that you had already slaved over one dinner. Now it was his turn. So you did as he said, and sat at the island, watching him work.

He asked you about your family, and you told him about your hometown. How moving to Mystic Falls hadn’t been so bad. You laughed as you told him about your siblings and the time you had gotten grounded for stealing your parents car. You told him how your mother had taught you magic, and how it had come from her mother before her.

As you ate he shared about the places he had traveled, how his time in New Orleans had felt the most like home and he’d like to return someday. He promised to take you to Paris, and told you how he had missed his baby sister.

And suddenly you realized that this Original that everyone had feared, this legend, was still just a man somehow. A man with regrets and dreams. A man who has suffered great loss throughout lifetimes, and your heart swelled. You got the sense as he talked that he saw himself as a monster, and it broke you inside a little. You suddenly couldn’t reconcile the monster he saw with the man you were getting to know. You only saw Elijah.

Maybe it was that realization, or the wine. Perhaps a combination of the two, but as he stood to clear your plate, you placed your hand on his wrist. He paused and you stood, moving into him. Slowly you inched closer, your eyes searching his for any signal that you may be unwelcome before they fluttered shut. You placed your lips against his delicately. His lips were soft and he stilled, breathing you in.

The kiss was brief, but you remained close, your faces almost touching and your breaths mingling before you pulled back and smiled. “Gravity,” you whispered.

When he didn’t respond you pulled away, clearing your throat. “Sorry, I just...”

His hand on your elbow cut you off, and he spun you back into his chest, his other hand brushing the hair from your face. His eyes searched yours. “Y/N,” he whispered. “I haven’t felt this alive in centuries,” he admitted softly.

You fisted your hands in his shirt, your body pleading for him to move.

As with all things Elijah (you had come to learn over the last few weeks) he was deliberate and controlled. He leaned in slowly, tasting your lips once more, and pulling a soft hum from you. He pulled back to look at you, his secret smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Gravity,” he said again.

And then he was moving, his lips crashing into yours, all hints of carefulness dissipated as his tongue begged for entrance. You opened to him, and he kissed you greedily, the taste of wine on his tongue. His hands traced your curves, and you were surprised when you found yourself pressed to the wall in your living room. His strength excited you, and you noted his restraint. You hitched a leg up, and he held it up, wrapping it around himself as he pressed into you.

You moaned, and he released you then, his mouth tracing a path down your neck. Your hands ran through his hair, running down the back of his neck, your fingertips desperately seeking. You traced along his shoulders to his chest, fumbling with the buttons of his shirt.

You pulled, untucking it from his belt and pushing it down his shoulders, desperate to feel him. Your hands roamed the hard muscle of his chest, but it wasn’t enough.

He pulled away, discarding his shirt before stripping you of your sweater. He took in the sight of your breasts greedily, and you were grateful you thought to wear the black lace bra. He traced his fingers along the edge of the fabric, and you yelped when he suddenly pulled, tearing the scrap of lace from your body.

You would have been annoyed that he had ruined your favorite bra if his mouth hadn’t latched on to your chest, his tongue tracing your nipple. His teeth grazing, dancing the line between pleasure and pain.

You arched your back, your hips searching, and once again he moved you, his hand cradling your head as you found yourself on your back on the couch. He rose up, eager to look at you, take you all in as he hiked your skirt up above your thighs.

His gaze burnt a trail into your skin, the blush rising as he watched you. Still, you didn’t shy away, letting him drink it all in. Your hips rose on their own volition, desperate and searching for purchase.

He clenched his jaw, and he traced his fingers along your panties. You whimpered beneath him, and even as you slammed your eyes shut you could tell he was cataloging the ways you reacted to him.

“Elijah,” you cried, sitting up on your elbows.

He leaned forward, kissing you again, tasting you. He pushed your panties aside his fingers teasing your folds and you cried out. He smiled, and you felt like you were in on his secret now, privy to a piece of himself he didn’t often share.

He swallowed your moans as he worked you, pressing one, then two fingers into you. He groaned at the tightness. His tongue traced your throat and you dug your nails into his back as he used his thumb to work your clit.

You gripped his arm desperately with one hand, the other tangling in his hair - your body tightening as you felt your orgasm building.

“Please,” you begged, reaching for his belt.

He sat up once more, making quick work of his belt and zipper, releasing himself before leaning back down, desperate to be close to you. He pressed into you, and you both groaned at the contact, a wave of relief washing over you both before he began to move.

He hitched your leg up, pressing himself deeper into you and you writhed beneath him. You met every thrust, slamming your eyes shut at the pure ecstasy that was Elijah. He held himself up with one arm, his other hand tracing your throat. You hoped there’d be more of this, that you would have time to give him everything.

He began to thrust harder, and he brought his thumb to your clit once more, rubbing deliciously as he filled you.

He sat up, pulling you with him so you straddled him, his thumb still teasing your clit as you rode him. He buried his face in your chest, kissing every inch of skin he could find. You bounced on him, chasing your orgasm wildly. You rose and rose, feeling like you were floating until suddenly you exploded. You cried out, and he followed you over the edge. He worked you through it, taking in every way you moved as you came.

You came back down softly, Elijah pulling you in, his gravity keeping you in his orbit.

He chuckled quietly against your throat, his voice deep and wrecked. “Does that happen often?”

You opened your eyes to ask him what he meant only to find you had shattered the bulbs in the house, your residual magic released and leaving you in a blackout. You laughed then, the movement quickly rippling into aftershocks of pleasure. “No,” you panted. “Never.” You leaned back to look at him.

Even in the dark you could see his secret smile. “We may need to get you a flashlight,” he teased.

You shook your head. “Mmm,” you hummed. “I’ve got it.” You closed your eyes, concentrating when suddenly all of the candles in the room lit up.

Your eyes met his in the flicker of light, and you leaned down in a languid kiss.

“Gravity,” he growled against your lips.