#passion otherwise it just feels like I’m slowly dying

[jemmo]

welp the end has come summer is over i return to the real world tomorrow i can no longer pretend it’s not happening.

[illusionsofdreaming]

would it be okay to request headcanons with the main trio from TCF who aren't in a relationship with the (fem) reader yet but they like each other, the guys get hurt or something and the reader is so scared of losing them or was so anxious that she ended up kissing them? You can edit a few parts if you'd prefer! thank you, i know you have a lot of requests but you're the only one who writes x reader for them-

Notes: It took forever+forever but I finally gave up trying to perfect it- y'all just going to have to deal with these half baked potatos as I sob in the corner for my lack of functioning writing braincells.

+ 'nonny I know you asked for Fem reader but I'm just so used to writing gender neutral nowadays I actually forgot to write Fem reader in. Uh. I mean it's gender neutral so it should work regardless?? I'msorrypleaseforgivemeforthisblunder

Ft: Cale, Alberu, Choi Han

Cale Henituse

He’s covered in blood.

Again.

He glanced down at his shirt, once white, now completely soaked and rapidly losing warmth. The icky feeling of sticky cloth stuck on skin caused goosebumps to break out all over his arms. The lethargy that weighed on him was hard to ignore, but expected after using his ancient powers-

“Cale!”

He turned just as the full force of you barrelled into him and he staggered, unbalanced and would’ve fallen had you not pulled him back. He barely had time to protest at your rough greeting when you began frantically patting him down as if scouring him for weapons.

“There’s so much- where are you hurt?” you demanded harshly, your tone pitched higher than normal. “Raon call for Saint Jack and the others, medics- anyone that can help!”

“Y-yes! I-I will! Weak hu-human you better not die or I will destroy the kingdom!”

“Wai-“ his protests were ignored as the dragon flew off, leaving Cale dumbfounded with his jaw hanging down in disbelief. “Wait you don’t have to find the others, I’m fi-“

“Cale Henituse, if I hear you say ‘I’m fine’ I’m going to sock you to kingdom fucking come.“ you seethed. His lips snapped shut obediently, swallowing the aforementioned phrase down as a foreboding chill crept down his spine.

But I am..?

“How could you..” your voice shook even as you clung onto his soaked shirt so tightly your knuckles turned white. “You’re always doing stupid things like this…”

Cale frowned, feeling a bit indignant. Sure his plans weren’t the most thought out at times, but to call them stupid…

“If you waited for us to come, then you wouldn’t have to- why do you keep sacrificing yourself like this?”

That triggered an alarm in his head. What strange things were you talking about? The act of sacrifice were done by martyrs and selfless heroes and Cale Henituse was neither of those. He wanted to correct your misunderstanding but you were worked up and hysterical and it was with horror that he realised you were crying.

“________-“

“Don’t talk! Please, just conserve your energy- I won’t let you die, I promised the kids and the others- I won’t let you-”

The alarm bells in his head rang even louder and he fought to be heard over your rambling, “_________- no one’s dying, I’m fine-” it felt as if his heart had leapt to his throat as he stopped your fist before it could make contact. You really weren’t joking when you said you’d punch him. He tightened his hold on your wrist when you tried to twist out of his grip and swallowed nervously. “I’m not hurt _________,“ he emphasised, willing you to meet his eyes.

“Stop bullshitting me Cale- how much of a fucking idiot do you take me for? How can anyone be fine after losing this much blood-“

“It’s not mine.”

You stilled in his grasp.

“…W-what?”

He frowned. Was it really that hard to believe his words? “The blood’s not mine.” he repeated and made sure to meet your disbelieving gaze head on so that you could verify the truth in his words. “They were cut down before they could harm me. None of this blood is mine. I was not hurt.“ It was a partial lie. He did cough out some blood after instinctively activating the shield for protection but he felt that that was knowledge you’d be better off not knowing.

The coiled tension in you leaked out and Cale slowly released his grip on your hand and took a cautious step back - just in case. It was a good thing he managed to deescalate the situation before the others arrived. Just convincing one person was hassle enough and from experience alone, he knew the others weren’t as merciful when it came to learning about his injuries, regardless of severity or his protests otherwise. Cale shuddered. He really didn’t want to be on the receiving end of Ron’s cold smile again. He glanced up and saw Raon’s flying figure and he waved lazily to the dragon hoping the young one would understand that the healers were no longer necessary, it had only been a false alarm.

“..ot.”

“Hm?” He looked down, hearing you mumble but didn’t quite catch what you’d said.

He was not prepared to be yanked forward and for your lips to mash against his. There was a brief sting where your teeth had caught on his lip and the uncomfortable sensation of having your teeth clack against each other, noses in the way. He froze, like a deer caught in headlights, thoughts reeling but before he could think of acting, to push or pull you in even closer-

You let him go just as abruptly and he staggered, breath stolen, mind in absolute disarray.

Then you slapped him. Which definitely cleared his thoughts. “You idiot!”

Stupefied, he watched as you stormed off, stuck in a daze as he cradled his face where his cheek and lips tingled for different reasons.

“…What..?”

Choi Han

Choi Han didn’t know what Cale saw in you back then, a complete stranger whom they saved by chance and nursed back to health with utmost care. You, who Cale insisted was the final key to their masterplan and then asked Choi Han to act as your escort.

There were many things Choi Han didn’t understand when it came to Cale-nim’s decisions. But that wasn’t so unusual and he’d never made it a habit to question Cale’s reasoning, having learned to be patient, knowing the pieces would eventually slot together in the grand picture. So although initially wary he was of your unclear history and affiliation, he stayed by your side and did his duty without question.

And perhaps after weeks of accompanying you, he’s beginning to see what Cale saw. Though powerless and weak, you were righteous and passionate, holding true to your belief even in the face of adversaries. You were the perfect replacement for the tyrannical ruler of the country, someone capable of salvaging the crumbling system of a neglected, abused society and lifting it to new heights and glory.

With the flames of revolution ignited, everything hinged on getting you safely to Cale on the final stage. While the revolutionaries fought and acted as distractions above ground, he escorted you through the abandoned waterways.

The undergrounds were dark and cramped, incredibly disadvantageous to a swordsman such as himself. When assassins leaped out in an ambush; Choi Han didn’t hesitate. Without time nor space to draw his sword, he pushed you behind him and raised his arm to block the strike.

As the momentum of the assassin’s blade stopped, it became simple matter to quickly disarm and finish them. Having checked and affirmed that there’s no forthcoming attacks, he urged you to hurry, now worried as they weren’t expected to be discovered so soon.

Something must’ve happened, we should hurry to Cale-nim’s side-

He was halted with a firm grip on his other hand and was pulled back as he was met with your stern, unwavering gaze and declaration that you will not move another step from this spot until his arm got treated first.

Which was a ridiculous request considering they were running on a tight schedule. He frowned and his fingers flexed against the hilt of his sword as you pulled him to the side.

When none of his objections were being heard, he tried reasoning with you. The wound may look horrible, but he’d assured you he’d angled his arm just so that the blade would’ve caught on his bone rather than tendons. It was a strategic move that not only blocked momentum but also kept damage to his non-dominant arm at the minimum. He would not have bled to death nor would he be crippled from it, something that barely needed the emergency care you insisted on.

“It’s not necessary, we need to get to the tower room first.”

“The room is not moving anywhere, I’d rather not risk having you develop an infection because you neglected to care for your wound.“

He flinched when alcohol was poured on the cut and Choi Han breathed out slowly, his frustration mounting as precious seconds passed. Something in his chest stirred uncomfortably. He’s not accustomed to having others care for his wounds, having spent so many years caring for them himself whilst hiding his weaknesses from monsters in the Forest of Darkness.

“I will attend to it after I’ve brought you to Master Cale’s side, we must-“

Your eyes flashed with anger as your grip tightened painfully around his arm. “So many things have been lost to reach this stage, I’d rather not lose more on the way there.”

“Cale-“

Perhaps you’ve had enough as well as the next thing he knew, your fingers dug into his arm and he found himself yanked forward and you pressing a hard, determined kiss that stole whatever he was going to say from his lips.

“Cale Henituse,” you said sternly when you parted and picked up a roll of bandages, “can afford to wait a bit longer.” you glared at him as if daring him to argue otherwise.

Not that it was necessary, considering he’d doubt he’d have the coherency to answer anything with the way all the blood in his body was rushing to his face.

Alberu Crossman

He didn’t feel anything upon the moment of impact. Only the shocking cold of metal being slid into his side and the vicious gaze of the perpetrator pressed up to his front.

The pain ripped through a moment later and he gritted his teeth, red spilling down his lips. It hurts.

Activity bursted around him, screams of fear echoed through the ballroom as guards rushed to his side. However one voice in particular caught his attention and he looked up to catch your horrified expression, lips parted in a desperate cry.

His forehead furrowed as a strange sense of guilt washed over him- he didn’t want you to see this- but he didn’t have time to explore the feeling as his hand latched firmly on the hand which still held the weapon in his side, preventing their escape.

His smile was red, “Caught you now, rat.”

═════☩══♛══☩═════

He tousled his hair dry with a towel as he read through the reports in his hand.

Alberu was exhausted, the fight to rid his side of his enemies’ spies had always been an ongoing and tedious project. His enemies were cunning and always played things safe however their impatience this time would cost them. Now that one of their own has fallen into his hands, they can start pulling in the net.

A knock sounded on his door and he didn’t bother looking up from his reports as he gave permission. “Come in.”

“Did you manage to find any new information from them?” he asked immediately as the door opened. Anything gleaned from the assassin would be beneficial to his cause. Not that he truly expected any confessions to be given this night. Any hired killer worth their salt would know not to betray the mastermind behind a hit. But there were more than one way to find credible information aside from words torn directly from the lips of a captive.

When no answer came, he looked up and immediately dropped the papers he was reading.

“___________…”

In the aftermath of the attack and the capture of the assassin he’d been immediately escorted to the healers for first aid. With the bare minimum done he’d left quickly to take control of the situation, calming the aristocrats and giving orders to assign all guests to be escorted to a room in the palace to rest from the unexpected development - the smarter ones would know this was just a way to keep all suspects in one place, stalling for time so that his trusted aides may work to narrow down the most likely suspects. He had been meaning to find you and explain once everything settled but this time you took matters into your own hands.

Your eyes glanced at the documents he dropped. “Am I disturbing your work?”

“No,” he replied instantly, fighting back the urge to shuffle the papers behind him. “No, you’re not.”

The room lapsed into silence once more as neither of you seemed keen to address the elephant in the room.

“About tonight…” he started slowly, “they had to believe I had my guards lowered.”

The truth was, though he believed you would not have been behind the attack, you had to be tested all the same. Should it be known you’ve been partial to this plan, it would’ve given the real culprits leverage to use.

You approached him and he wished you would say something. He noted the redness in your eyes and felt a stab of guilt lodge in his chest. “It had to be believable.”

You didn’t meet his eyes and your hand hovered over where his wound had been.

He lifted the edge of his shirt up to reveal the pink scar tissue underneath. It was ugly and badly healed due to the rush he had been in. “I wasn’t in any real danger.” he said softly, staying still and resisting the urge to shiver when your fingers traced the scar.

“You’re picking up bad habits from Cale.” You said so softly he would’ve missed it had he not been paying attention.

“The padded shirt under prevented the blade from going too deep.” he explained, hoping you’d understand that he hadn’t been reckless. Everything had been planned carefully. He slowly tucked his shirt back in as you withdrew your hand, already missing the warmth you brought to his skin just moments ago.

“__________…”

You leaned in and placed a small kiss on the corner of his mouth. “Don’t do that again.” you whispered against his cheek.

He could only watch in astonishment as you turned away and exited his room.

“..Okay..” he said hoarsely to the empty room.

[americasass81]

Pretty As A Picture

Warnings:- Predominantly Fluff, Very Mild Smut (fingering), Use of Pet Name, Feelings of Insecurity. 18+ only. Do not read if any of these warnings are upsetting. Feedback is welcomed.

By proceeding you are acknowledging that you are over 18 and are consenting to the content below the cut.

A/N:- This little drabble was written especially for @sugardaddytonystark. I really hope this hits the spot.

Pairing:- soft!Tony Stark x Female Reader

Synopsis:- Feeling insecure about meeting the Avengers for the first time, Tony does what he can to reassure you.

Word Count:- 1,059

The party was in full swing when Tony found you sitting on the bed staring off into the unknown. Looking stunning in the shimmering purple silk dress he had secretly picked up for you earlier that day, he couldn't remember the last time any woman had taken his breath away, but you did it effortlessly on a daily basis. Still gazing on your silent form, he knew you well enough by now to know something was bothering you and so shutting the door behind him, he closed the distance between the two of you to kneel before you. "Darling, you’re absolutely breathtaking. But what's the matter? Why aren't you at the party?" he asked, taking your hands in his and placing soft, tender kisses across your knuckles.

Drawing you slowly back to the present, he smiled at you gently when your eyes finally locked with him and his presence was at last made known to you. "Tony, what time is it?" you gasped, suddenly taking in both of your attire before continuing, "has the party started? We'd better go see to the guests." you stated as you tried unsuccessfully to free yourself from his clutches and head towards the door. But Tony was having none of it.

Placing one arm firmly on your thighs to hold you in place, his other hand reached up and gently caressed your cheek as he moved your head to look at him once more. "My darling, the party can wait. The guests can go amuse themselves. Something's bothering you so please tell me what it is."

Looking into the loving eyes of the man who daily told you how treasured you were, you found the strength to confess your deepest fear. "What if your friends don't like me Tony? I mean look at me." you sighed, as the tears began to slowly cascade down your cheeks to meet his wandering fingers. "It's not like I'm pretty like Wanda or strong like Natasha. Hell, I'm not even as sophisticated as Pepper. Surely you can do better than me."

Seeing the anguish on your gorgeous face and knowing how hard it was for you to say what you just had broke his heart, but Tony knew he had to make you see that you were everything to him. So rising from the floor, he pulled you gently from the bed and placing you on his lap, encased you in his strong arms before speaking. "My beautiful darling, don't ever think for one second that you are not a match for any woman. You are the most glorious goddess on this earth and I am thankful every day you willingly choose to put up with my sorry ass. If I was told this second I had to pick between you or my fortune, I would choose you. Always."

Opening your mouth to protest at this ridiculous proclamation while his lips found that soft juncture between your neck and shoulder blades, his warm touch and talented mouth swiftly shut you up before he spoke again. "No, trust me. I've never lied to you and I'm not about to start now. No object in this world, man made or otherwise, could ever match your beauty and if it takes until my dying breath, I will make you see I'm right." he promised, laying you gently back on the bed before moving his lips towards yours as a hand worked its way towards your thigh. Moaning as his lips connected with yours while his hand slid through the slit in your dress, he couldn't hide the devilish smirk you loved so much when his fingers connected with nothing but your waiting heat.

"Oh my naughty girl, what's this?" he asked cheekily as his fingers began to play with your soft folds. "No panties darling? Was someone hoping to get a little action?" he quizzed as his lips found yours once more and this time his tongue warred with yours as his fingers buried themselves in your aching pussy. Moving your hips to help urge his fingers deeper as his tongue explored every inch of your mouth a groan left both of you when J.A.R.V.I.S. suddenly interrupted to inform Tony that talk was beginning to circulate that his lady love was nothing but a figment of his overactive imagination.

Dropping his head onto your chest while supporting his weight on his elbows, you let out a laugh as he muttered about ungrateful teammates before raising his eyes to look at your wondrous face. Smirking down at him while biting your lower lip, he kissed each of your silk-covered breasts before breaking the silence. "The cheek of those sods to say you don't exist. Just wait until they lay eyes on you." he said as a hand came up to cup your chin. "Just look at you," he added as he reluctantly stood up and helped you from the bed, "your smile is like a breath of spring. Your eyes sparkle like the morning dew on the delicate flowers. And darling, your soul shines brighter than the rarest star." he finished while rearranging his suit as you walked away towards the vanity unit.

Giving yourself the once over as Tony straightened up his tie, you then rose to your feet to face a proud looking avenger as he held out his hand in order to pull you towards him. "Now," he added, bending forward to kiss your soft lips and convey all the love he felt for you before he spoke again, "how about we do a quick lap and then say hi to everyone before I throw their ungrateful asses out so I can spend the rest of the night reminding you just how beautiful you truly are."

Shaking your head at his plan while taking in the heated looks Tony kept sending your way, you smiled shyly before kissing him back with all the passion you felt for him. Then leaning into the comfort of his warm embrace, you left the safety of the bedroom and head held high, walked out proudly with Tony Stark beaming beside you and spent the rest of the evening getting to know his friends as the man who loved you more than life itself imagined all the ways he would show you just how spectacular you really were.

Tagging: @sugardaddytonystark

[dingdongitsbees]

“Gojo has a girlfriend!?” | Gojo x Reader Oneshot (Fluff)

Synopsis:  Yuuji has just overheard a phone call with Gojo and this seemingly mysterious woman who's coming to visit. He brings the news to the other students, adamant that their teacher has a girlfriend much to the disbelief of Maki, especially when the possibility of the girlfriend being you arises.

Ao3 Link

WC: 2.6k TW: mentions of death/murder Just send an ask to be added to Gojo the taglist! (specify if you don’t want angst etc)

Jujutsu Kaisen Masterlist | Main Masterlist

“Guys, guys! Gojo has a girlfriend!” Yuuji announced, slamming the door open to the classroom.

“I refuse to believe that,” Nobara said rolling her eyes. “He couldn’t get a girlfriend even if he had the most romantic script in front of him.”

“I second that,” Maki said, not even looking up from her phone.

“Tuna, tuna,” Toge agreed.

“He’s not that bad-” Yuuji started.

“He’s an egotistical, immature man child who thinks dick jokes are the height of humour, what women would be attracted to that?” Maki glared.

“Then explain to me why I heard him call someone babe over the phone just now! And why I heard a girl’s laugh!”

“You say that like he doesn’t do that to everyone,” Nobara sighed.

“He said they were coming today anyway!” Yuuji insisted. “And he said “I love you” before he hung up!”

Now that raised eyebrows in the room.

“He… he really said that?” Maki said slowly for Yuuji just to nod enthusiastically in reply. “Then who the hell did he brainwash to be his girlfriend?!”

The group moved out of the classroom to outside as they argued leaving Megumi alone to slurp his noodles who was happy to be forgotten in the conversation since he already knew the answer. Watching the two adults yearn obviously after each other for years still scarred him, but he was happy you were coming today, even if you had the worst taste in men.

“Seriously who the hell is it!” Nobara yelled. “There’s no way its Utahime right?” The group was stood at the top of the stone stairs that led into the school, waiting for the mysterious visitor.

“She’d rather die,” Maki deadpanned.

“Mei Mei?”

“She’d go for someone richer.”

“Yuki?”

“She’s too busy for relationships, let alone with Gojo.”

“Shoko?”

“We would have noticed that by now.”

“A civilian?” Yuuji suggested.

“Like there’s any way he could explain the jujutsu world to a civilian without making it look like he was insane.”

Panda hummed from behind them. “(y/n)?”

Maki went still. “How dare you taint her name like that.”

Yuuji and Nobara looked to each other. “(y/n)?” they said in sync.

“She’s one of the only other special grade sorcerers,” Panda explained. “She was in Shoko and Gojo’s grade in school. She’s Gojo’s best friend.”

Yuuji and Nobara’s eyes widened.

“He has friends?” Nobara asked with a bit too much genuine shock.

“Somehow,” Maki spoke solemnly, pushing up her glasses. “But (y/n) is too cool to ever do that!” She looked to the sky with her outstretched hand dramatically. “I would never idolise and want to follow in the footsteps of someone if they were that foolish!”

“Bonito flakes!”

Nobara mouthed a ‘woah’ at Maki’s intensity, never seeing her look up to someone with so much passion.

A Megumi scratching his neck joined them from behind, now full enough of food to deal with what would soon happen.

“Who do you think it is?” Yuuji asked him.

Megumi sighed. “It’s-”

Panda whipped his head up, ears twitching, everyone falling silent. They strained their human ears and soon heard footsteps on the gravel coming towards them. Without warning a stick came hurtling at Maki’s head with deadly accuracy who froze before quickly cutting it in half, the pieces gliding past her head before the others could even blink.

“You’ve certainly improved Maki!” A happy voice spoke. Soon they saw a small woman with hands in pockets walking up the stone steps with a grin. “Yo yo yo,” you greeted.

“(y/n)!” Nobara and Yuuji gulped at Maki with, wondering how she would react to the attack. “How was my form? Was it alright?”

“Pretty good, pretty good,” you laughed, “I personally would have just side stepped to dodge it to retain some energy. But if you’re going to counter, I’d suggest putting your front leg a little more forward to help with your balance, but I’m sure you already knew that.” Offering Maki a knowing grin. “You reacted much faster than you did last time though that’s for sure. You’ll definitely have the Zenins kissing your ass in no time.”

Maki nodded sharply with the compliment and Nobara couldn’t help but notice the smile she was trying to keep down to remain in her collected self.

You looked over to Megumi who begrudgingly stepped forward to say hello, but the twitching corners of his mouth said otherwise. You gave him the ritual hair ruffle which he leant down into, knowing you had missed being able to reach down to tiny child Megumi to bother him whenever you wanted, but he still indulged in your methods of affection.

“You keep getting taller what a pain,” you whined.

“It is what happens when children reach puberty,” Megumi deadpanned.

“Beside the point,” you replied with the dismissive wave of a hand. “It’s of personal offense to me.”

You looked over to the other two first years blankly, taking them in, analysing their builds and posture. They gulped nervously under your critical stare. “Ah you two must be nail girl and Sakuna’s vessel, Nobara and Yuuji, right?” You smiled, disarming their defensive walls, nodding. “Nice to meet you! I’ll be coming up here a bit more to help teach now and then so I’ll get to know you two well soon.”

They beamed and you couldn’t help but feel your heart warm at the positivity that still remained in young sorcerers. Too many let their immaturity and childlike wonder, and frankly the happy and fun side of themselves, behind as soon as they realised how the world really was for shamans, you included, but the younger generation always gave you a kick in the gut to force you to remember. An unintended gesture that was greatly appreciated.

“But anyway,” you said, dropping you smile and sighing melodramatically. “Where’s the dipshit?”

“Who-?” Nobara and Yuuji started.

“Over by the track field,” Maki said, the other second years and Megumi pointing with her.

“Coolio,” you acknowledged and stuck your hands back in your pockets and started to walk towards the field before you heard Maki speak.

“Speaking of… Gojo,” she began, “Is it true he has a girlfriend?”

You would have laughed at the question had it not been so shocking to you that the answer wasn’t glaringly obvious. You glanced over to Megumi who had obviously not told them yet, who just looked at you with so much resentment for having indirectly causing what must have been a very long conversation before you arrived.

You looked back to Maki. “He does yeah… why do you ask?”

“Well, we’ve been wondering who it is, is she a sorcerer?”

You nodded.

“Someone we know?”

You nodded again, trying not to let the slowly rising smile read on your face.

“Well…” Maki huffed, “Who is it?”

You raised your fingers to your lips and feigned zipping them closed. “I’ve been sworn to upmost secrecy,” which was just entirely untrue but kept it much more fun.

“But you’re smart I’m sure you can figure it out.”

Maki nodded, absolutely defeated as you waved goodbye and headed to the track.

It didn’t take long to find him, his overwhelming aura hit you before his slender hands covered your eyes from behind. “Guess who!”

“I couldn’t even begin to guess, maybe my ex I still have feelings for, I would probably break up with my boyfriend for him, he’s very annoying.”

“You ass,” he replied taking his hands off which you just laughed at. “Your ex is a fucking asshole.”

“That fact is written across the universe in holy star dust.”

You finally took a good look at him, his stature towering over you as always, but always bringing the feeling of being safe like under a shelter in the rain instead of any kind of looming threat height can give you. You made eye contact through his black blindfold and couldn’t help but wish it was the old days where he wore his glasses so you could see his eyes more clearly, but then again, the old days didn’t only offer happy memories, it was why you were here in the first place.

The gang peered at you two from behind the bushes, watching every excruciating detail they could pick up from the interactions.

“Nothing too out of the normal yet,” Maki breathed, “That’s just ordinary friend things yeah? Yeah?” she questioned Nobara who nodded enthusiastically. Though the younger girl couldn’t help but notice the affection in your look at him, or the way her teacher’s body seemed to soften and let his usually unnoticeable guard down.

You sat down on the large concrete steps together, close enough to feel each other’s warmth. You two looked to the sky and watched as birds passed in a group of four, gliding through the air with no need to need flap their wings.

“How are you?” You asked.

“Straight to the point huh?”

You couldn’t help but smile a little but stayed silent for him to answer.

“I mean, it’s the same as every year isn’t it?”

“We both know that isn’t true.”

The events of last year still haunted you, and Satoru too, even though he was much better at hiding it. The two of you walking up to Suguru’s dying self, his hand clutched on his bleeding stomach as the two of you were just standing in shock, staring at the man that used to be your guys’ best friend. Satoru being the one to do the finishing blow because you were too much of a mess to do it. Gojo Satoru is good at hiding things, but those who knew him well enough knew sometimes the cracks were visible in his perfect façade.

He sighed. “You need to stop being right all the time, it gets frustrating.”

You chuckled and bumped your shoulder into his, internally grinning at his infinity being turned off for you even though it was nothing new. You took the opportunity to rest you head on his shoulder as the two of you looked up into the sky again in silence. Just taking in the slow heartbeat you could hear.

It was a few minutes before it was broken again.

“It feels weird to still feel like celebrating the birthday of a person I don’t know anymore, let alone of a person I killed,” he said honestly. “Like how is the engrained feeling of an arbitrary date that I properly celebrated only three times only mean more to me than it did back then when there’s no way to repeat the happiness of unaware teenagers.”

You hummed quietly, indulging him in his thoughts that you too felt. “I’m sorry I-”

“Don’t.”

“I’m sorry I made you do it,” I said, “He was your best friend.”

“And he was yours too, I wasn’t going to make you put a childhood friend down like a dog.”

You nodded into his shoulder, going quiet. He looked down at you and you couldn’t help yourself but reach up to touch his blindfold. He didn’t resist and sat quietly as you raised it so you could see his eyes. Little, almost microscopic droplets, detailed his under eyelashes. You gave him a small smile which he returned with his own as you brushed his eyes gently. He grabbed your hand delicately and kissed the fingers tips one at a time while you watched with total calm and comfort taking over your body, snuggling closer into the crook of his neck.

The group watched in tight tension as they spied on the scene before them. Maki looked like she was going to rip out the bush, roots and all, with the way she was gripping onto the small branches like a lifeline.

“It was probably just something very personal, and because they are good friends they feel comfortable doing that, yes that’s it. And the “I love you” over the phone must have been a joke or said in a platonic way. Yeah, that’s it.” Maki said, springing off all the close enough to realistic conspiracy theories in her head.

No one had the heart to tell her what was plainly obvious, nor the bones strong enough to deal with her disagreement.

You didn’t need to say it, he already knew, but you said it anyway. “I missed you,” you said quietly, “Going abroad sucks.”

“You really need to look at the sweet shops there and pick up some souvenirs.”

“Sweets don’t numb things for everyone,” you laughed, “Sometimes food can’t replace people.” You grabbed onto his hand and laced it in yours, his huge hand enveloping yours like a little protector.

“Did you get hurt?” he whispered; he knew you were fully capable to come from most missions entirely unscathed, but it didn’t stop the worry. People he cared about going to missions alone had left many scars in varying forms.

“I’m alright, just a few bruises here and there mainly by my own hand, no biggie.”

He nodded, happy with the answer.

He stroked his thumb over the back of your hand, leaning his head onto yours. “I love you,” he whispered, barely loud enough to hear over the subtle wind.

You squeezed his hand. You’d never been good at words, stumbling over what you’re really trying to say without saying it outright, even if you already knew what you were meant to say, especially when it came time for vulnerable things, but Satoru knew that better than anyone. So, you felt his face widen into a smile.

He squeezed your hand back.

He looked down at you again, taking his blindfold off so you could admire the now rarer sight of his eyes. There was no other way to describe his eyes than beautiful. Their blues captivated you like a ship barely staying afloat in a storming ocean, barely surviving, only at the sea’s mercy. Many were terrified of them, they were whispered about among shamans young and old, and to be fair they held power. Power unattainable except for those lucky few that inherited it. But to you it had always felt like it was the eyes that inherited Gojo Satoru. It was Gojo Satoru that really made them powerful along with infinity, no one had ever come close, and it was doubtful anyone ever will, even if he thought he was raising students that he wanted to be better than him. At the very least it was definitely a high bar to beat. But when it was you, and just him, just Satoru, together, it was not the power you yielded to. It was the fact that it was Satoru, the boy and now man you had fallen in love with and who had allowed himself to fall down to fall in love with you. When you looked into the sea of blue that seemed forever changing, the only word you could use to actually describe them was Satoru.

You rose your head to meet with his lips softly, giving him a sweet kiss that made his mouth upturn into a smile. And to be fair half of it was definitely because of the group of students that were losing their minds behind a bush right now, but the other half you happily knew was because of you.

Gojo Satoru may be an egotistical, immature man child who thinks dick jokes are the height of humour sometimes, okay maybe a bit more than sometimes. But he was Gojo Satoru, the most imperfect perfect person you’d ever met, and you would stay by his side until you parted from the world, but you were sure it wouldn’t take long to find him in the next.

.

.

.

Jujutsu Kaisen Masterlist | Main Masterlist

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[hotdamnhunnam]

Too Good for Grey

A/N: Sooo this is a fic that I’ve had in mind ever since I first posted my list of Imagine Ideas a while ago! Though I know Charlie’s decision not to play the role of Christian Grey is what was best for him, part of me will always be heartbroken that we all missed out on 50 Shades of Hunnam 😭💔 In this fic you’re his girlfriend; he’s considering the role and you let him... practice in the bedroom 😏

Pairing: Charlie Hunnam x F!Reader Warnings: smut, swearing, dirty talk, rough sex, dom!Charlie, blindfold, bondage, punishment, light flogging (just with his belt, nothing too intense) Request: No specific request, but there’s been demand for a Part 2 of Red Carpet Rogue and I decided to write this fic as a sequel to it!

Word Count: ~3.4k

[Please read Red Carpet Rogue first if you haven’t yet! Otherwise the second paragraph won’t make much sense without that reference...]

You love mornings like this one. Lazy weekends with your boyfriend, hottest man under the sun. Completely chill and easy and carefree, nowhere to be. No work, no plans. You’re seated in his lap feeding him pancakes from your fork, since that’s the only way to get your man to focus on his breakfast. Charlie’s hands are fully occupied, roving and reckless, moving all over your robe and deep inside. Clearly still riding high from such a scandalously sexy night.

You push another forkful past his lips, then playfully lean in to lick some syrup from his chin as it so sweetly drips. His stubble tickles, causing you to giggle, while he growls and tightens his grip on your hips. “Mmm...” he hums, digging into your skin with his thumbs. “You know I still can’t get over just how fucking awesome last night was, Y/N. Thinking we should invest in a stretch of red carpet to relive it over and over again.”

“Hmm, I like the way you’re thinking...” you respond, settling deeper in his lap and slowly sinking, till you feel your man’s enormous cock grind up against your cunt. Heat burning through your silk robe and his sweatpants. “God, you were so fucking dominant. More than you’ve ever been.”

“That a good thing?” the bastard asks you, as if he has to, bursting into laughter when you shoot him a glare of the fuck do you think?!? Your dom/sub dynamic is not a new thing. “Well, chalk it up to this new script that I’m considering. Came my way yesterday before we headed out for the evening.”

He gestures at the stack of papers on the counter behind him just now, which you hadn’t noticed all morning somehow. You blink at the title printed on the front page and cannot believe what you’re seeing. Basically stop breathing. “Oh, wow...”

Charlie flashes a cheeky grin as he gets off on your reaction. Can’t resist making a stupid dirty pun, ‘cause he’s the worst. Rubbing his crotch harder against yours as he says the words. “Yeah, who could’ve seen that coming.”

“Now if you’re gonna start talking dirty to me, Mr. Hunnam... you’d better be ready to act on it,” you warn him, well aware he’s been ready and raring to go all damn morning. “I know you’d slay this role but don’t know if you really want it, to be honest.”

He shrugs as he kisses stray drops of maple syrup from the corners of your mouth. “Yeah, I’ve got my doubts. But haven’t ruled it out. Think some part of me wants it. Luckily I’ve got the greatest girlfriend in the world to help me work through my decision-making process.”

“Well, should we call it work...” your lips curve into a seductive smirk, “...or play?”

At those words, Charlie’s cock fucking jerks. That’s your answer, of course. Better than anything he can say.

And you’re so fucking ready to meet Mr. Grey.

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

“You sure about this, babe?” he asks as you hastily finish your pancakes. You’re hungry for something quite different, for fuck’s sake. Your pussy’s so wet that it practically aches. “It’s not like we have a red room...”

“But we do have a very nice bedroom,” you tell him. He’s trying to stall and you’re not gonna let him. You’re ready to go. “Plus we’ve got, you know—silk scarves and ties, a closet full of all kinds of hardware supplies. So I’m sure you can... improvise.”

Charlie’s still acting as if he has to think twice. Blinks twice, with an excited little twinkle in his eyes. “Somebody’s eager...”

“Somebody? Both of us, baby. You know you can’t wait for this either.”

“I just want to make sure you’re ready...”

“Charlie, I know you’ll take things slow and steady. I trust you completely,” you reassure him as you kiss his cheek softly and sweetly. “Besides, we’ll rely on the traffic lights code. Red for stop, yellow for ease it up. Green for go. They used those safewords in the books, right? Never read them so I don’t really know.”

“Then how do you know what—”

“Know what Fifty Shades even involves? Love, I’m not some kind of pop culture idiot,” you interrupt, taking his hand to guide him down the halls. You’re really not about to let him stand and stall. “And I may have looked up... a few things on Google. Being such a kinky bitch and all. Brainstorming new ways to play the role of your submissive little slut.”

“God, you’re so fucking hot,” he grunts as he finally gives in to what he wants, suddenly slipping into dom mode all at once. Changing his tone, making you moan, slamming you up against the wall. Towering over you so big and strong and tall. “Who would’ve thought... who knew that’s what my sweet little girl is up to when you’re clicking away on your laptop? Googling filthy ways for me to fuck you up?”

You groan in desire as his dirty words start a fire. “Ch-Charlie...”

He reacts just as you knew he would, and his dominance feels so damn good. Last night he scolded you just the same, when you called him by name. “What the fuck do you call me?”

“Sir,” you instantly answer. Obviously. Filled with the urge to say more, like a good proper whore, since you feel more submissive than ever before. Thirsty for fifty shades of Charlie. “Thank you for reminding me, sir. I’m so sorry.”

“You better be,” he chides, sliding his hands down your shivering sides, then swiftly untying your robe and letting it fall open wide. His touch upon your skin is hot as hell and fucking heavenly. “Your place in life is to obey. Do as I say. To serve and pleasure me.”

“Yes, sir,” you whimper, breathing heavily, as he cradles your face in his dominant fingers. “I promise I’ll always remember.”

You’ve known it to be true, since the day you first met him: Charlie Hunnam owns you, and you fucking let him. You’re fated to live for his pleasure and love him forever.

He reads all of the thoughts in your head as he slowly lets go of your face, slaying you with his blazing blue gaze. Though you moan at the loss of his fingers, the power and passion of his touch still lingers. You can feel it all over your sensitive skin. Fifty shades of pure sin.

And you love it. Want every damn shade of it. Already so addicted to the deep submissive state you’re in.

The next words that he speaks... make you so fucking weak. Mr. Grey has most certainly come out to play. And he is here to stay. To make you fifty shades of horny. “That’s a good little whore. Gonna give you the punishment you’ve been so desperately hoping for. Now run off to the bedroom and wait for me... facing away from the open door... naked and down on your knees.”

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

Yes, sir. Yes, please. You’re pretty sure your cunt is leaking all over the floor as you obey your master’s orders, flinging your robe off your shoulders, stripping down and sitting back upon your heels.

It’s not the first time Charlie’s ordered you to kneel—but this right now... just hits different somehow. He’s so hot it’s unreal, too dominant for you to even deal. And you’re obsessed with how insanely good it feels.

You’ve already lost track of just how long you’ve waited. Heart racing, breath bated. How much time has passed? It may have been two minutes or two hundred. You just know that once your man arrives at last, he’ll be all set to give you everything you’ve wanted.

The moment when he finally comes... you feel his presence from across the room. Exuding vibes of absolute alpha male dom. And you’re so desperate to receive all of that energy from him. You can’t believe how blessed you are to be his woman. Here experiencing fifty shades of Hunnam.

Though you’re dying to turn behind you toward the door to see how good he surely looks right now, you stop yourself somehow. Keep both hands resting on your thighs, with lowered eyes, head bowed. Still and silent, though self-conscious that you are breathing incredibly loud. You’re so fucking aroused.

As Charlie takes a few deliberate steps toward you... rests his hand against your head, stroking your hair and tenderly twining his fingers through... you already feel dead. Can’t stop some smutty sound from slipping out your slutty little mouth.

He then reaches around, to trace his thumb across your bottom lip, shifting his grip before you can even attempt to kiss his fingertips. Needs you to know that you are not to make a sound, till he allows. That he owns you without a fucking doubt.

He’s owning you now with the tone of his voice and the touch of his hand. “Y/N. I need you to understand... that you are mine to command.”

“Yes, sir,” you breathlessly answer. And the slut in you compulsively reacts, tilting your head back, in an effort to make eye contact. Dying to look up at his gorgeous face, to meet his gaze, as you profess the shameless fact: that you belong to him, in every way and always...

And yet your man has other plans. Prevents you from catching a glimpse of him before you even can. He had arrived with something in his hands—a strip of cloth, some kind of tie or scarf, silken and soft. He masterfully fastens it around your eyes the moment that your head tilts back, and suddenly your vision fades to black.

“Now that’s no way for a good little slut to act,” Charlie scolds, as he tightens your blindfold. “Shifting from your position? Moving without my permission?”

Ugh God, he’s so hot you could die. “I...”

“Don’t tell me you’re sorry. I’m sick of your worthless apologies. High time I teach you a lesson in proper submission.”

“Ohh, sir—” you moan as he pulls you closer, till the back of your head rubs against the huge bulge in his crotch. The prize that you crave so fucking much. The object of your dreams. You can tell that he’s wearing your favorite jeans, and his cock is so hard it’s obscene, bursting out of the seams.

Then he effortlessly hoists you onto your feet, the bare skin of your back sliding up against his upper body—shirtless, naturally—so that you can feel every firm ridge of his muscles and all of his raw carnal heat. “Now I know what you want... but what’s much more important... I know what you need.”

Those words murder your cunt, and it feels like time stops. Then the next thing you know Charlie has you facedown on the bed, both arms over your head. And he’s tying you up. Binding both of your wrists to the bedposts, with some fucking serious rope.

This is everything your inner slut ever hoped. And you can’t even cope.

He’s just getting started and already this feels so damn perfect you just want to cry. Fucking magic. You’re fucking ecstatic. Tears of pure euphoria rise to your eyes, fighting at the blindfold he had tied, dampening the fabric.

Charlie picks up on all your unspoken emotions, as he always does. He can tell that you’re buzzed and just wants to make sure that this isn’t too much. Leaning in near, to whisper sweetly in your ear. “How’s the traffic?”

“Huh...?” you reply in a hazy sigh, taking a moment just to realize what he means. “Oh—green. So green.”

“Mmm, good to know,” he smirks against your cheek, as you revert to being too horny to speak. “But we can always take it slow. Just let me know if we’re approaching yellow—”

All of a sudden you’re able to speak again, just then. The words are somewhat muffled as your face is partly burrowed in the pillows; you make sure that Charlie hears you loud and clear, though. “Hell no. Green means fucking go.”

“If you say so...” he smirks once more, kissing your cheek before he lifts off of your back, all fucking ready to attack. You both can’t wait for what’s in store.

Charlie has spanked you countless times before. With you facedown in bed, you would’ve guessed that’s what he had in mind—to slap your slutty ass red, then to fuck you from behind. Remind you that you’ll always be his dirty little fucking whore.

Today you’re hoping for a little something more.

And that’s exactly what he’s giving. This time around... the punishment’s bound to hit different.

You can hear the faint rustle, telltale sound of metal and leather as Charlie undoes his belt buckle. Oh, shit—surprise, surprise—for some of these supplies, he didn’t even have to venture in the hardware closet.

Everything he needs to exert his total dominance, he’s fucking got it.

And it’s everything you’ve ever fucking wanted.

“Know just how much this pretty ass loves getting punished...” he teases, taking your bare naked cheeks in his hands with a few tender strokes and squeezes. 

If you had to guess—without being able to witness—he must’ve looped his undone belt around his neck to free both hands for just a minute. He must look so fucking hot right now. An absolute sex god like nobody’s business.

“This sweet ass will look even prettier in pink by the time we’re finished,” he says it like a promise, and you really hope he keeps it, to be honest. “You know I would say prettier in red, but...”

“Oh, no, that’s a bad word,” you murmur in playful laughter. Repeat the right color to make sure he feels reassured. “Green, sir. Want you to let loose and get fucking mean, sir.”

“Ugh fuck,” he murmurs, as you hear him smile while he slides the leather belt off of his shoulders. You can just imagine what the sight of you in such submission has done to his denim-clad cock. “You’re killing me, love...”

“But that’s your job. I’m the sub,” you remind him, well aware you’re coming close to topping from the bottom. Sort of. Whatever it takes, to get Mr. Grey to come out to play, to feel comfortable falling into his role as your absolute dom. “Now go crazy and get rough. I promise I want it, sir. Honest. I can’t get enough.”

“Such a good fucking slut,” Charlie rasps, slowly grazing the edge of the leather across the soft globes of your ass. “Once we’re done with your punishment... you know I’m gonna fucking wreck this perfect little cunt?”

“Yes, sir. Please punish me and use my pussy for your pleasure.”

“Motherfucker...” you hear him quietly mutter, scrambling to strip out of his jeans, because his cock is probably straining in pain against the denim, harder than it’s ever been. No surprise since your cunt’s also wetter than ever. It’s just so perfect that you two are getting off on this together. You love the way your dirty words have this effect on him, just as his do on you. You’re such a slut for Mr. Hunnam; the best thing is that he’s such a slut for you, too.

Once he’s finally naked and gets in position behind you, he takes a few seconds to soak in the view. Psyching up for what he is about to do: whip the shit out of you. Just as you want him to.

“Now with each lash that comes down, I want you to keep count. And need you to repeat the color. Loud. You understand?”

“Yes, sir,” you swear, yielding to his command, instinctively arching your ass up in the air, because you’re desperate for your punishment. “Yes, sir, I understand. Green means hit me as hard as you can.”

“You fucking greedy little cunt,” he taunts with a dominant sneer. “Who makes the rules here? I’m gonna go just as hard or as soft as I want.”

You realize you were stupid to think he would go so hard, right from the start. Charlie knows where your limits are, even when you don’t. He reads your body and your mind and sees into your heart. Knows just what you need even when you’re too focused on only what you want. That’s why you have no doubt that he’ll dish out the most perfect punishment.

And so he does.

From the very first lash on your ass... your breath halts with a heart-stopping gasp. You have never felt such a damn buzz. From the way the sensation bursts onto your skin, underneath the smooth leather, a blossom of sin, pain blurring into pleasure... you want this to just go on forever and ever.

Your master had given you orders, you somehow remember. “One...!” you scream, as you sink deeper into submission, so desperate for him it’s obscene. “Oh God, thank you, sir. Green.”

“Good girl,” he mutters, just before he treats you to another. Each hit makes your fucking toes curl. You are the luckiest bitch in the entire fucking world.

“Two! Fuck, thank you...” you wholeheartedly thank him again and again, with each serving of perfect pain, grateful to your dom for how fucking awesome it feels. It’s unreal. And you keep screaming green on repeat, to give him all the safety and comfort he needs.

He’s enjoying this, no doubt—his cock’s standing rock hard and proud—but this first time around, with each strike that comes down, Charlie is much more focused on reading your signals. Respecting your limits, especially when it’s so tempting to test them a little. You don’t really seem to have any with him, as far as he can tell. Which is epic on some level, but also scary as hell.

He decides when you’re finished, with getting punished, since you’re taking it too fucking well. All you want is more of it; you love it and can’t think of anything else. On your end it’s exquisite. Excruciating ecstasy fulfilling your every fantasy. All because it’s pain coming from him. Fifty shades of Hunnam. All because of how deeply you worship and love him.

If there’s one thing you love more than taking these whips from his belt, the sweetest sting you have ever felt... it’s getting ripped to pieces by his massive cock. Playing your lifelong role as a slut for Sir Hunnam to fuck. Taking him in your soaking wet cunt, letting him ravage you just as hard and as fast as he wants, rough and savage, dishing out some serious damage, till you both explode deep inside and all over each other at once.

Something about the hard passionate sex today, the way he wrecks today... feels even hotter after how you got to play.

Apparently he really likes it when you tap into his inner Mr. Grey.

You both come harder than you ever have, as his huge shaft unloads inside your hole and feeds your soul and breaks you right in half. Breathing in shallow gasps as you feel him fucking collapse, your naked back slick from the sweat off of his sculpted chest and his firm chiseled abs. His face is buried in your hair, and though you know how much he wants to unfasten your blindfold and unbind your wrists, so he can turn you over for a heartfelt kiss, and shower you with hours of loving aftercare... right now your man’s just laying there and praying for some air.

He’s just so perfect it’s not fair. You know he’ll spend the whole rest of the day talking through all your feelings, treating you to every form of healing. Endlessly obsessing over every mark upon your skin, like he committed some ungodly sin, compulsively asking you whether you’re really okay. And he’ll keep on asking no matter what you say. Although he also loves to play this way... deep down he’s doing it for you, because his love is pure and true.

And that was when you fucking knew: this man is way too good to take the role that he was offered yesterday. You’re here to help him though each step of his decision-making process, to respect him if he wants this, and support him either way—but you already feel quite sure after today that your man Charlie is quite honestly... too good for Grey.

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

Hope you enjoyed this, and would love to hear if you did!! 🤗❤️

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[iloveitwhen]

What Team?

OK! SO I thought I knew where this was going then it started becoming a Lila redemption arc but that was about to be like probably 5 long chapters then i changed it and started writing in Lila’s view but for some reason I couldn’t write it in anyone else’s so this is in Lila’s POV and Imma do a part 2 with other pov’s and extend the story a bit

this is for @miracleofadisaster ​ cause they asked for it and based off of this post by @unmaskedagain ​ 

there’s a cuss word in here somewhere if ya’ll care. also i hope i did it justice!❤️❤️💜

Part 2

Things were… not going as planned. Which was basically impossible since everything goes Lila’s way but this class, oh boy this class was stubborn. Instead of choosing between Marinette or Lila the class collectively agreed to ignore and not believe Lila when she spoke of Marinette nor Marinette when she spoke of Lila. It was a little awkward at first but as time went on it got easier and easier for the class to ignore the two girls when they spoke of the other. And Lila was NOT happy about it. She had promised that brat that she would take every single one of her friends away until she was alone and ostracized. And she was not one to go back on promises. Marinette had dropped the situation but Lila was determined, she would not lose so she was forced to come up with alternate ways to take the other girl’s friends away. Lila originally planned to take Alya away first but the girl was too bullheaded and refused to believe that her “bestie” would ever hurt another soul, she had told Lila “I know you don’t trust Marinette but you tripped and I know Marinette well enough to know she wouldn’t do that! And besides, we all know Chloe framed Marinette and put your necklace in her locker. Simple!” 

Lila groaned in annoyance. Just what would she have to resort to to get these fools on her side? Sure Lila was a little heartless, ok very heartless, but she didn’t want to physically beat up Marinette, well it didn’t really have anything to do with having a heart or not, Lila was just too lazy to exert physical energy like that. She was staring out of the window of her mother’s car when a familiar flash of black hair and pale skin passed her peripherals and she whipped her head to find Marinette blushing profusely while talking to some boy in the park by school. She watched them become smaller as she got further away for a moment before a smile crept onto Lila’s face and she relaxed back into her seat. The Destruction of Marinette was finally coming. 

---

Lila sauntered in the classroom the next day, it was before class started so of course Marinette was not there but Alya was speaking animatedly with Rose and Juleka in the back of the classroom. 

“Hey guys! Guess what I saw yesterday?” she spoke in an excited tone that always got those oafs enraptured in her stories. 

“Oooo, girl tell me,” Alya held a glint in her eye and while Rose practically vibrated through her chair, Juleka just sat there not being one to show emotion. 

“So you know how Marinette has a crush on Adrien?” Immediately Alya and the other two girls looked between each other growing uncomfortable. Ok, fair enough, not the best course of action. “No no no! I’m sorry, not like that! I just saw her yesterday at the park with some tall, dark haired boy and it looked like she was like, into him, you know? She was blushing pretty hard. He was pretty cute and I just thought that they looked so cute together! I just think she might be over Adrien now!” Maybe if these girls believed that Marinette wasn’t into Adrien they'd help her get with him, Alya has told plenty of stories of them joining forces to get Marinette to ask out Adrien, all she had to do was convince the lot to switch out Marinette for her. Simple enough. Except now Alya was laughing, why was she laughing?

“I’m sorry it’s just-” Alya burst out into laughter again before straightening up and grabbing Lila’s shoulders and looking into her eyes, “trust me, Marinette does not have another crush, besides whoever that guy was there's no way he’s better than Adrien.” Ok. Rude. 

“But he actually seemed pretty nice….” 

Juleka spoke up which startled Lila so much she flinched back, “What did he look like?” 

“Well he was pretty tall and he had black hair with blue tips, he was handsome too.” Lila prayed Marinette had good taste in men because if she just called some random, ugly dude “handsome” she’d be mortified. Lila’s thoughts were washed away when Rose gasped and Juleka gave Lila a rare smile. 

“Aww,” Rose squeaked, turning to her friend, “Juleka that is so cu-”

“Wait, she was blushing because of LUKA? Seriously? That knockoff Jagged Stone? Please, Marinette actually has class. Anyone who thinks otherwise is an air headed buffoon. I mean c'mon.” Lila’s jaw dropped, she couldn’t help it! That was just so, so rude! Even Lila didn’t insult people straight up like that, not only did she insult that boy, who honestly Lila didn’t really care about, but she insulted her! Lila was many things and being insulted and basically called stupid was not something she liked to be. 

Juleka slammed her hands on the table making everyone in the classroom jump and look over at the four and stood up glaring at Alya. 

“ExcUSE ME?” Lila’s brows shot up at the quiet girl’s outburst, so many things were happening today. 

“Sorry, girl, I didn’t mean it like tha-”

“My brother is amAZing. He and Marinette would be perfect together. He’s respectful, kind, and actually cares for Marinette!” Juleka was fuming which shocked everyone speechless, but headstrong Alya got over it quickly and retorted, 

“No way, Adrien is way better for her, he’s also respectful and kind AND his father is Gabrial Agrest.” 

“Please, the brat doesn’t even like Marinette,” Rose gasped at ‘brat’ but Juleka ignored her and attempted to mimic Adrien’s voice saying, “she’s just a friend!” Alya gasped in offense. 

“You take that back!”

“Why? There’s literally no reason to because it’s true.” The two were completely oblivious to the stares they were getting from everyone who had trickled into the classroom. The only ones not present were the ones being talked about and Ms. Bustier. No one dared to interrupt or make a sound, not even Lila since they were all so shocked that Juleka was actually arguing with someone, and so passionately. None of them had ever even heard her speak so loudly before. 

Alya was about to retort when Alix hissed, “they’re coming!” and in walked Marinette with a slight blush talking with Adrien who was rubbing the back of his neck with a shy smile. Alya shot Juleka a smug smile before turning and jogging to her spot. 

Nobody paid any mind to Lila who stayed rooted in her spot with blood slowly draining from her face. 

What just happened?

Not only did they defend Marinette but they argued about who was better for her. And Alya just so blatantly insulted her. Like she was nothing. Alya will suffer for that. 

Lila turned and slowly walked to her seat and plopped onto it, ignoring Nathaniel's side glance. After a moment she smiled to herself, all she had to do was convince everyone else that this "Luka" was better for Marinette so she could have Adrien all to herself. 

Lila really didn't know what she was getting into. 

---

For the rest of the day Lila joined forces with Juleka and Rose to spread the news of the newly coined "Lukanette" pairing. Alya was not having an easy time hiding how offended she was that people so easily turned their backs on Adrien, the girl really needed to learn to let go. Lila was going to tear “Adrienette” away from her if it was the last thing she did. 

Meanwhile, Juleka and Rose worked overtime, with a few smartly placed words and here and there the two were determined to turn the rest of the class on their side. They, plus Lila, had become the forefront runners for the Lukanette campaign, and as shameful as she felt campaigning for Maribrat she convinced herself that it was for the better. One step back two steps forward, once the class was "Lukanette" believers she'd have Adrien to herself and it would be one more step to take the throne and continue The Destruction of Marinette. She’d feel the disgust churning in her stomach but she'd still do it. It was for the greater good. 

Nathaniel refused to partake, Ivan was firmly Team Luka while Mylene chose Team Adrien since she didn’t know Luka that well and Adrien was always nice to her, Alix laughed at everyone and didn’t pick a side but was slightly stingy when Kim and Max pledged Team Adrien, and of course Nino decked himself out in Team Adrien gear, seriously the boy came into school with something new everyday. However, Adrien became Team Luka to support the nice dark haired boy even though he had no idea why his classmates were creating “Teams” between himself and Luka, but he “just wanted it to be fair!” The surprise came from Sabrina when she herself pledged Team Luka while Chloe was Team Adrien. It was a week after the Teams began and at first it was all fun and games but that moment when Sabrina switched sides it became war and there was an immediate shift in the air. During school Team Luka did not speak with Team Adrien at all and vice versa, after school the teams were forgotten, except of course when Alix, who was always one to sow discord, would mention it during a class hangout and chaos would ensue. Then shirts were made, inspired by one of Nino’s bracelets that he determined marked him officially as “Team Adrien,” and the civil war within the classroom became official. Marinette of course was completely oblivious and refused to ask why everyone was wearing shirts and refused to get dragged in, not realizing she was the center of this little war. 

At first it was only Juleka and Rose who wore the teal tie dyed Team Luka shirts but when Alya and Chloe walked in wearing their own Team Adrien gear Lila’s fury raged. That day after class Lila snatched a Team Luka shirt that Juleka and Rose made with Marinette to wear the next day. When she walked in the next morning she felt Alya and Chloe’s eyes burn into her soul but she refused to back down, she felt shame rise in her but held her head up high but not missing Marinette’s dropped jaw at the sight of her. 

Two steps forward one step back, she kept telling herself. No one insults her and gets away with it. Alya will go down with Marinette and Lila’s dignity.

It became an even bigger deal when Alix tweeted the situation of her class and Chloe retweeted it with evidence that Adrien was better which in turn dragged Jagged Stone in and people were warring over who was better looking, nicer, more talented, etc. It definitely could have ruined some careers in the process but Juleka happily relayed to Lila that Luka was just happy that 3 million people were “Team Luka” with 2.8 million “Team Adrien” and many of them were begging to hear his music. 

Unfortunately this news reached the Waynes. How the ever loving shit did Marinette even KNOW the Waynes was completely beyond Lila. The girl was a freaking nobody, if Lila didn’t break her quickly she might surpass Lila and that just wouldn’t do. The reason Lila knew the Waynes had found out was because Alix, that hotheaded brat who refused to pick a side, showed up in a black shirt with bold green letters that spelled out ‘TEAM DAMIAN’ and on the back it said ‘FIND YOUR OWN GIRL’. Lila asked who Damian was and the whole class heard her when she said, “Damian Wayne, obviously.” Lila screamed into her pillow until she couldn’t breath when she got home that day. There HAD to be a solution to all of this, she wanted to desperately stop faking that she cared who Marinette ended up with, just as long as it wasn’t Adrien. Or Damian freaking Wayne.

Team Luka:

Lila, Juleka, Rose, Ivan, Sabrina, Adrien

Team Adrien:

Alya, Chloe, Nino, Kim, Max, Mylene

Team Damian:

Alix 

More shall arrive for Team Damian 

Part 2 Teaser heehee

“Hey Marinette?" The girl called looked up from her sketchbook to see Juleka nervously tapping on her desk with her nails and Rose standing behind her with a look that could only be described as sparkly. Marinette raised an eyebrow but smiled kindly at them. 

"Yes?" 

"So umm *ahem* can you help me and Rose make shirts that say "Team Luka" on them?" 

"Team lu- uhmm sure?" 

Juleka have her a rare smile and a soft "thanks" before returning to her seat with Rosa who squeaked "you're the best Marinette!" Marinette gave the girl a weak smile and a small nod of appreciation and just stared in confusion at the spot where the two girls stood previously. 

What?

Part 2

[pure-kirarin]

Zoro x dancer reader

lofi-coffee said :hey! i just came from your zoro hc’s hxbsjxb which was absolutely *chefs kiss* btw! do you so scenarios? if so could i request a scenario based off of the “good dancer” hc, where hes admiring his s/o dance and she pulls him out to join her? he stumbles, its a lil messy, but who tf cares bc they’re happy and that’s all that mattersplease + thank you. hope you have fun writing it!💕

Thanks for your request and for your feedback ! It makes me so so happy everytime someone reads what I write...Because I never expected that anyone would read my work ! I wrote this and I hope that you like it...I had fun writing it but I don’t know if it’s what you expected or wanted hahah. ~ I love tension uwu Ps: cool tumblr name ;w; <3 (ෆ˙ᵕ˙ෆ)♡ **************** How could she move her body that way ? It was almost indecent. That's what was going through Zoro's mind as his sight was hanged to your body. He was sitting there, away from the dance floor, drinking glass after glass of beer. He was lazily looking at you while enjoying his drink. Damn, what a good dancer He was quite entertained by your figure, gracefully moving to the sound of the music. He was in this little bar in Dressrosa, finding his way to it to enjoy a drink before the execution of the plan. The other strawhats were each discovering this rather charming city. Dressrosa...The city of passion, he smirked a bit, looking at you he was begining to understand why it was called that way. The ladies were good dancers, not that he cared about dancing much but...He had to admit that he loved getting entertained while drinking and you were quite the entertainment. Was it the drinks or was it his mind playing him tricks ? Because he was damn sure that it was as if you were the only one on the dance floor... Some soft bachata music was playing. At first, he could only see your back moving sensually. When you turned around, he swallowed pretty hard, both your eyes met and you weren't one to look down. You continued dancing while looking him in the eyes with a little smile on your face. He rised his eyebrow, she's not intimidated ? Good. He smirked, amused by your attitude. You were certainly aware that you were the star of the show. You didn't have a partner either, isn't bachata supposed to be a social dance ? Zoro didn't dwell on these thoughts, he just wanted to enjoy his night, his gaze attached to your body. The swordsman being a bad dancer wasn't going to say nor do anything. He just wanted to look at you and to drink a lot. He didn't want anything from you, in fact, you seemed surreal and he thought for a second that maybe you were the fruit of his imagination and that of the dyonisiac beverage. Maybe if his fingers caressed your hair, you'd vanish in smoke. He turned his face towards the barista, making a sign with his hand to ask for a new drink while his glass was still half full. His eyes then switched to the dance floor and you were gone, just as the music stopped. You vanished. He let out a sigh, were you really just a hallucination ? He thought his tolerance to alcohol was impeccable. « -Hey, are you going to join me or are you just going to look at me ? Your voice was smooth and sensual. Zoro looked from right to left, ah, you were talking to him, after all, you noticed his gaze. -Hm ?  He grumbled, amused but not impressed, not yet. -God. Don't react this way. Your eyes almost poked a hole through my body and now that's all you say ? » Zoro thought that you were quite aggressive in your advance. He wasn't going to deny that he was indeed looking at you. He didn't feel shy, he just looked and you couldn't blame him for it, not when you danced in that way. He looked you right in your eyes, looking for an answer, what did you want from him ? He was surprised of finding amusement, challenge, almost like you were defying him. He wanted to see how far you were going to reach. -I'm drinking. He waves his glass. You were aware of your charm and you knew that the swordsman found you attractive, otherwise he wouldn't look at you this way. But how could he devour you with his eyes and act so ininterested ? Your ego couldn't handle his attitude. You came to him by yourself and he was letting his « chance » go. Didn't he know how many other guys dream of dancing with you ? But you were drawn to this stranger, to this man that you have never seen around. His look when you were dancing caught your attention, it wasn't just a look of lust, it was a mixture of appreciation, fascination and desire. You wanted to know why he looked at you that way. You snatched the glass off his hand and drank its content in one go. He looked at you surprised. Wild. He thought to himself. He was starting to get interested in you. Could you be entertaining in more than one way ? You put the glass on the zinc quite violently and then you hold his sleeve really tight, pulling him a bit. «- Now you don't have an excuse. You dance ? He appreciated your boldness, however, what he didn't want to admit is that he is a really bad dancer. He was content just looking at you...But now you were defying him with that look of yours. -It wasn't an excuse. -Then what ? You're scared that I'll stab you or something... ? -Me ? Scared ?..Don’t make me laugh.” You giggled. Zoro knew about this « rumor », about Dressrosa's women being extremely passionate, stabbing their lovers if they ever cheat...What were you implying ? However, his swordsman pride didn't let him lose to you. He groaned and got up. You had a victorious smile as you held his hand, bringing him to the dance floor. The music started slowly and you knew that he didn't know how to dance Bachata. He was awkward and stiff and you found that to be cute. You wanted to dance with him because you knew that anyone could dance bachata, especially when you were leading. The music started and you put your arms around him. « -Eh...What are you doing here ? What am I supposed to do exactly.. ? You chuckled -It's bachata...here... you took his hand and placed it on your waist and the other one on your back. Don't worry, just follow me...anyone can dance. Place your leg between mine... -what ? -Trust me...Come on...Do it.. Zoro blushed a bit, he wasn't used to all of this dancing thing...it was silly, he just wanted to admire you while drinking but he was too proud to admit that he is « scared » of dancing, especially when you defied him with your fawn eyes. He stumbled, stepping on your feet making you let out an « ouch ! » of pain. His movements were so stiff, and honestly, he was just bad that it was almost cute. You expected a sensual dance, like bachata usually is but his hands on your skin were so tense. -Follow the music...Follow my body. » Some curious looks were on you, you looked amazing together even though the dancing was bad and messy on his part. Your grace almost made up for his false move, honestly all he had to do was to hold you close to him sensually but even something that simple seemed complicated to the swordsman. It was very endearing...Charming. You danced for a little while, following the rhythm of the music. -Oh god...you are worse than I expected...You said, provoking. Zoro was getting impatient and pulled you closer to him very aggressively. You were startled and stopped dancing. The swordsman had this aura that was pulling you towards him like a magnet. His look, the same one that he has earlier while looking at you...It was so intense, you wanted his eyes on you...You were dying out of curiosity for him. « -What's the matter now ?...I thought that you were a good dancer..  A smirk on the lips, a hot touch on your waist and you were already far, far away... -I...I am. You just startled me ! » You tried to hide your embarrassment but he read through your game. He was just as curious for you as you were curious for him. He wanted to see more of your dancing...And dance with you in many other ways. You passed the test, you looked resilient enough to put with his detached attitude. You also weren't scared of looking silly as seen from your little dance with him. The music stopped another time and he gave you a big smile now, he had to say that he didn't expect that he'd have such fun dancing with you. -Thanks for this dance, you said, ready to part ways. As your were turning back, he held your wrist pretty tight, startling you once again. You locked eyes with him, you thought that he didn't want anything more. He let go of your wrist then looked left, then right, then back at you. -Now that you showed me how to dance I'd like to show you something I'm good at... He scratched the back of his neck while saying this, always looking somewhat detached but also sure of himself. You were surprised but appreciated his honesty, after all, if it meant having those eyes look at you one more time...Why not ? -Haha...I'll be the judge of that. » You put your index finger on his chest then turned back. That night was the night when you met Zoro around a dance in the city of passion. It was also the starting of a passionate love story between both of you. Your love came in waves, just like a bachata dance, sometimes you pulled and sometimes he did, it was sensual, a bit awkward and messy at times but it was for sure passionate and enjoyable. ************ Please feel free to give me feedback and don’t hesitate to drop in my ask box to get to know each other =) I’m new to this fandom and I appreciate everyone already. ^-^ <3 

[its-deputy-caleb]

Micah Bell - Partners in Crime and in Love Pt.2

hell yeahhhh the part 2 i’ve been dying to write. this is more angsty than i thought i’d be but there’s fluff and a smut scene (with a fem reader) so a warning that this contains adult content.

part one is here otherwise this makes no sense

side note: i don’t know how to write anything remotely sexual so i’m sorry it’s bad and poorly written ima just 🚶‍♂️🚶‍♂️

—————————————————————————

The shock of what had happened at the bank still hadn’t settled with you the next morning after Charles had returned. Apart of you kept thinking that Micah would stroll through the front gates of Shady Belle or come up behind you and wrap his arms around your waist with a coffee in hand like he does every morning. But that didn’t happen. He was really gone, what’s worse is you didn’t know how bad gone was. Was Micah stuck on some ship? Did he get captured by the Pinkertons? Or was he dead? Charles said he never actually saw them make it to the ship, only parted with them at the docks.

Fuck. The unknown was the worst part. His death you could handle (that’s a lie you’ll keep telling yourself) but not knowing whether he was okay was tormenting.

The gang, or what was left of them was in shambles ever since the bank. When Charles returned and delivered the news that young Lenny didn’t make it, everyone was left feeling heavy with despair and grief. Despite his rather sour relationship with Micah, you had a soft spot for him and more often than not took him under your wing to show him the ropes robbing coaches and being an experienced outlaw. Needless to say the gang won’t be what it was without him, but you did your best to not let it unsettle you too much.

That night while sitting by the campfire, your mind drifts to the night of the Mayor’s party. Originally, you were due to go with Micah as the latest young couple of the oiling industry and were looking to ingratiate yourselves with potential new investors. That all went out the door when Micah got himself into a bar fight over the last bottle of whiskey and there was no way Dutch was going to allow him to the party looking like some scruffy outlaw. You were both slightly upset that you didn’t get to go so instead you put on Dutch’s gramophone (he won’t miss it for one night) and slow danced together on the balcony.

His hand was placed gently on the small of your back, his other holding yours out to the side as you swayed together to the music. It was a pitiful attempt at dancing, lacking any of the real technique or proper movements but it was perfect for a couple o outlaws like yourselves. Your head was resting on his chest, taking in a deep breath and letting yourself completely relax into his embrace. It was one of the few times that you could forget about being an outlaw, about being on the run. That soft peaceful moment with your head tucked under Micah’s chin is the closest thing you’ll ever get to a redemption, and to you, that was all you could want…

You stayed by the campfire for the remaining hours of the night, replaying over and over the scene at the bank, thinking of everything that you could have done right. That night you let the guilt claw at your mind until the sun emerged from the horizon and Miss Grimshaw started ordering everyone to begin packing up the camp.

“Chin up now! I don’t need anyone slacking while we’re short of hands, help pack up the last of the boxes.”

Nodding defeatedly at Susan’s demand, you made your way over to the last remaining stack of crates carrying ammunition. Any other day you probably would have argued with her if only to cause some mischief but today you simply did not have it in you. Your body was exhausted and struggled to carry the weight of the crate until Charles came over and took the other side.

“Thank you, Charles.”

In return, Charles gave you an affirming nod, the two of you working together to help move the remaining supplies. When the final box was moved and secured, he placed a comforting hand was placed on your shoulder.

“They’re going to be fine, if they survived Blackwater then this surely won’t. Besides they have Dutch leading em the whole way.”

Charles has always been a friend to you, been there for you during the worst of it and certainly didn’t judge you for who you were. It was the same for him and the two of you would often go out hunting to get away and relax from the stress of the gang.

“He’ll be fine…”

Charles didn’t need to name him to know you were primarily concerned about one more so than the rest and while Charles certainly did not like Micah, he was a friend of yours no matter what.

~

If Micah thought the bank job couldn’t have gone any worse he’d be called a fool because boy was he wrong. Most definitely wrong.

The boat fucking sunk.

Of all the things that could have happened, something ended up catching fire and in the chaos of it all ended up on some island beach with Dutch and Bill, god knows where Arthur is in all of this. There was sand scratching his already burnt skin and the heat was sweltering, it wasn’t even midday yet and he’d already made the choice that he hated this Island.

After three days on the Island, his opinion had not changed one bit. If anything he’d say he hated it even more. The amount of wildlife was unbearable, with the disgusting insects that were everywhere and the vines which were snakes hidden in plain sight. Not to mention he’d already been in too many shootouts to count, Javier was shot and captured and Dutch was slowly slipping into insanity while running around caves and ruins running errands for people that he didn’t know.

For once, Micah was glad to take guard duty. Sure the heat was enough to give him a headache and he had to listen to Morgan cough up half his lungs each night but it was better than getting involved in some civil war between rich businessmen and the locals. All he wants is to leave this Island and be back with you.

In the dead quiet of the night, Micah is leaning against a stone pillar keeping guard. His eyes wander to the moonlight that bounces off the water and how it reminds him of your new revolver. Sure most revolvers were same bright colour but yours was black with white engravings. He had it made especially for you as a gift and when he saw your face light up with joy, it made paying for the damn thing worth every cent.

God he misses you, he hates to admit it but he so desperately wants to see you. He thinks about finally seeing you again, how you’ll probably break his nose for taking so long but he’d expect nothing less from an outlaw like you. The thought makes him chuckle to himself softly at how much he’s head over heels for you.

The next few days are a haze, he doesn’t even know who he’s fighting but there’s no time to stop and think about it as bullets whizz past him in every direction from his place on the beach. There’s a ship and a canon that leaves the building rattling with each fire of the canon ball and there’s boats of guards that chase them up the beach.

Miraculously everyone survives and Micah doesn’t stop to look at the damage left on the beach. The thought of being back with you makes the shootout worth it and he can’t wait to put that shitty Island behind him.

~

When you finally see Micah stroll into the new camp, you’re already half way over to him before he’s even off his horse. The whole way you’re rambling, borderline yelling as you practically lecture him for leaving.

“How could you be so irresponsible, running off like that! I don’t believe it! Micah do you know how fucking worried I wa-“

Micah cuts you short by wrapping your arm under you and pulls you into a long kiss. He lets out a sigh against your lips at how badly he’s missed it, how badly he’s missed you. You mirror his desperation and wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him in closer by his hair as you’re terrified to let him go.

Neither of you care that the gang is watching you two, all that matters is he’s back and you can finally stop worrying.

“Don’t you dare run off like that again…”

There’s no venom in your lecture this time and he smiles against your lips, kissing you again.

“I missed you too, sweetheart.”

Later, when things had calmed down and everyone was waiting for Bill and Arthur to return, you snuck away with Micah to ‘scout for a potential lead’. Dutch had protested but you simply stated that there was mouth’s to feed and money to be made which seemed to do the job with only the slight warning of not causing too much trouble.

That of course would all have to wait as you made your way into the Hotel in Annesburg, slinging your coat over the door handle before making your way over to Micah who sat on the edge of the bed. You seated yourself onto his lap and brought him in for another kiss, this one much more passionate but no less gentle. His hands came up to roam over your back, finally getting to feel you after so long. He took off your gun belt and brought you closer, desperately trying to untuck your shirt from your pants as he tried to undress you without letting you go.

“S’alright Micah, I’m not going anywhere anytime soon.”

You chuckle at he impatient gruff he throws at you and kiss his cheek adoringly. Micah will admit to hating how sappy and loved you made him feel but deep down you both know he loves every second of it.

You stand up, moving away from him slightly to undress properly and you notice how Micah doesn’t take his eyes off you. It makes removing his own shirt rather clumsy, getting stuck on the buttons but he can’t get over how lucky he that you like him.

When all you’re both finally undressed all the way, Micah lays back down on the middle of the bed with you straddled on top of him. Usually he’s adamant on being in charge but tonight he’s happy to let you call the shots.

After what feels like hours of gentle teasing and light kisses, you finally line yourself up as he slides into you. A soft moan bubbles from your lips when Micah’s hip thrusts up reflexively, causing a wave of pleasure to wash over you.

Eventually as you both find a rhythm your gentle and soft touches become more heated and demanding. Micah’s hands are grabbing your hips in the best kind of way, meeting your thrusts half way. A cocky smirk is on his face as he makes more moans and whimpers leave you.

At one point you lean down and use his hair to pull him into a bruising kiss, full of teeth and tongue. The change of angle has you moaning much louder into his mouth as his cock hits that spot that makes your stomach flare with pleasure, brining you closer to the edge. You can tell he’s not too far behind you from the way his thrusts falter slightly and are much more irregular. Not to mention the moans of his own that now accompany his groans.

“Mm Fuck Micah… Don’t you ever leave like that again.”

Micah chuckles at your attempt to lecture him again, but he can hear the serious undertone, how worried you were over him.

“Wouldn’t dream of it sweetheart…”

One, two, three more thrusts later and you’re pushed over the edge. Your face is pressed into his neck as you moan his name, biting into his neck which is sure to leave a mark at such an intense orgasm. You tightening around him is enough to send him over as a soft pretty moan leaves him. It was so quiet you almost didn’t hear it over your own panting breath, but you did and its only reserved for you.

Once you’ve both cleaned up, you’re looking down at him with a sheet wrapped over the two of you. You’re gently brushing his hair from your face and you can’t help but smile. His soft blue eyes glow in the golden candle light, his cheeks have a slight stain of pink from the sunburn that hasn’t quite healed yet and you think he looks absolutely perfect in that moment.

“Whatcha staring at sweetheart?”

Your smile grows at the lost puppy look he has on his face and you can’t help but trace the scar that runs from his chin to his lip with your thumb.

“You… I’m staring at you dummy, because I love you.”

Micah’s eyes widen before he flips you so you’re the one underneath him, his forearms on either side of your face. He leans down and gives you a tender kiss, humming in agreement.

“Love you too.”

Micah kisses his way down your lips to your collarbone where he rests his head on your chest. Your hand comes to gently play with his hair again, something you can’t get enough of, until you both begin to fall asleep. You drift off with a small smile on your face, contempt and at peace for the first time in a long time knowing that if the two of you could survive that horrid bank job then you could survive anything else that was thrown your way.

[bleulone]

i love your analysis so much! i have a question as well, like, how do you envision polin's sex scenes ? thanks for your answer (:

    Hey! Thank you very much :)) I have no idea if they are that even good but I’m happy you like them. It’s just my brain tending to produce some iNsIGhiTfUL analyses though they usually end up drowned under a huge wave of stupidity and horrid spelling/grammatical mistakes XD. So, about Penelope and Colin’ sex scenes, I guess we’re getting spicy in this house 🌶. I mean, I don’t blame you. Who’s not hot for Polin ?! The steamy Polin hours have already begun and they’re legit challenging my patience. (Be still my Polin heart, be still).

   Okay, without further ado, let’s talk about sex baby, shall we ? It’s a pretty long answer/meta so bear with me.

    I don’t know if you’ve read Romancing Mister Bridgerton, but a quick reminder (for those who haven’t... yet), there are a bunch of iconic steamy scenes that I’m dying to watch on screen. First we have the famous “thank you” scene where Penelope, now a 28 year-old spinster, asks Colin to kiss her because she doesn’t want to die without having been kissed... then ends up thanking him— which happens to be humiliating for our 33 year-old boy because he thinks that she thinks he did it out of pity while he absolutely did not. The man definitely felt butterflies in his stomach... and in other places as well lol. We also have the ICONIC carriage scene where Colin gives Pen’s generous bosoms™ the attention they deserve. This is followed by his proposal. Later on, after the announcement of their engagement, there’s a pretty hot make-out scene on Lady Violet’s sofa. Finally, we have their first time in Colin’s bedroom, after sneaking out of their own engagement party... which leads Colin to push the wedding date forward. At this point, I just love their horniness, especially Colin’s who’s just so freaking amazed by Penelope for more than 300 pages straight (duh! who isn’t ???).

    When you say envision, I suppose you mainly refer to the way those scenes will be filmed right ? I’m afraid I don’t have an advanced knowledge in film-making but let me start by telling you what elements need to be depicted. I would love Shonda and Chris to capture the real essence of our boos’ feelings : the yearning, the love, the respect and the guilt (specifically on Colin’s side) in their eyes. The more we move forward throughout the seasons, the more we see different layers of the perceptions of they have of each other, going from a childish idealization/immature ignorance to a sudden realization. A mature one. Penelope goes beyond the facade of the charming devil-may-care guy to meet the seriousness and temper of her significant other. Meanwhile Colin discovers how confident, powerful and attractive this woman is and always has been. It echoes what I’ve written about the importance of the gaze in Polin’s love story in this meta. By the time season 4 hits, man... their heart eyes and eye-fucking will jump OUT XD, all fibers of their beings, burning with need. The fact that this evolution took literally years is very emotionally painful, which is why I find it important to keep the slowness aspect of their relationship before and during their love making. I’m really looking forward a slow build-up toward their intimacy. It would differ from Daphne and Simon who merely shared one hell of a kiss in Lady Trowbridge’s garden then shared their sexy times after they married or Anthony and Siena’s rough sex... In fact, there’s a certain (sweet) ardent tenderness in Polin I like due to the fact that they’re slowly (re)discovering each other, as adults. Since they were both introduced in season 1, the audience will have all the time in the world to notice numerous evidences of the many natures of love they have for one another : from an affectionate and friendly love to a more carnal and enduring one.

    Okay so, in terms of filming, with Netflix’s Bridgerton being a show which promotes the female gaze, it wouldn’t be that much of a surprise watching those sex scenes being shot from Penelope’s perspective, like it was the case with Daphne in the first installment of the series. Most of the time, sex scenes in Historical Romance are not gratuitous. Their presence serve an important purpose in a hero/heroine’s journey. In Penelope’s case, they’re here to help her learn to embrace and love herself. In other words, sexuality is synonym of freedom. I don’t know if they’ll show a lot of skin, but I won’t be complaining considering the fact that we’ll have the chance to get a chief kiss treat on screen : a plus size woman in a major successful Netflix period drama getting a love story as romantic and steamy as other more “fit” female characters. No, your weight doesn’t prevent you from being desirable at all. As far as I’m concerned, I haven’t watched a plus-size female character portrayed as an attractive protagonist in a period drama (please if you have, let me know, I can be wrong). Having a beautiful half bare curvy body like Nicola’s being equally filmed like numerous slim actresses will be so inspiring and powerful to watch, especially for (young) women who struggle, like Penelope, to love their body shape which, to them, doesn’t “fit” the “beauty standards”. By showing her female gaze and portraying her as seductive, Pen’s “supposed” imperfections transform themselves into mighty assets, loved and worshipped by our dashing Mister Bridgerton. That’s body positivity at its finest darling ;).

    It will be deliciously erotic watching the undressing process being exquisitely slow, garment by garment, while their gaze are all heated and hungry. Their sex/make-out scenes should be tender and passionate, sweet and raw. The lightning, colored by a dark blood orange yellow or a blue depending the locations^^. Moreover, the depiction of the exploration of Penelope’s desire can translate itself thanks to multiple close ups. For instance, I can imagine a few ones on Pen’s fingers gently roaming over the smooth skin of Colin’s firm chest and back/touching his hair right after he removed his shirt. And a disheveled Colin letting his hands and lips making a journey of their own, mapping, conquering the alluring unknown territory that is her gorgeous voluptuous body... kissing her on the places he knows oh too well will give her pleasure (is this me wanting him to go down on her?— um yeah I sure hope it IS! If he doesn’t, trust me imma riot... AGAIN). Even a close up on her face while Colin is performing his addictively pleasing torment will be a marvelous proof of the female gaze. By the way, why not even adding a post-coital scene after their first time ? I can picture Penelope waking up first and contemplate her handsome soon-to-be husband. She’d bring her hand to his face and let it travel all around his forehead, his cheeks, his lips, his neck and let it rest on his heart— making sure that what she’s just experience was real... obviously, Colin will wake up in the process and he’ll take this as his cue to go for another round of sexy times under the sheets.

   Showing Pen reaction is essential according to me because she was stuck with the idea that she would never experience the luxury of being loved, giving pleasure nor receiving it... she ended up being happily wrong. Throughout her multiple intimate encounters with Colin, I want her to progressively realizes that she can be an active partner. In the carriage, she knew she had an effect on him, but it’s not until their first time that she actually realizes it. Hence the reason why I WANT the mirror’s introduction in one of their sex scenes. Here’s as a little reminder an excerpt from chapter 18 :

“I want to see you sitting up," he groaned, "so I can see them full and lovely and large [about Pen’s breasts]. And then I want to crawl behind you and cup you." His lips found her ear and his voice dropped to a whisper. "And I want to do it in front of a mirror."

“Now?” she squeaked.

He seemed to consider that for a moment, then shook his head. "Later," he said, and then repeated it in a rather resolute tone. "Later.”

   It would be such a shame if the show doesn’t use the incredible potential of this object (/kink). I mean, the symbolism is pretty clear. Penelope has always fled her “ugly” reflection but it seems like Colin wants to show the real her, the beauty that holds every single inch her alabaster skin and the effects they have on him. Thus, I would love to watch a scene where Colin just praises the alluring goddess and siren that is Penelope Featherington. Just imagine! Just IMAGINE the power of this scene : a shirtless Colin sitting behind her on a bed, meeting her gaze in the mirror, his lips touching her right ear, biting and licking the lobe sometimes, whispering all kinda of dirty yet poetic words to her while letting his hands caress her thighs, her hips, her arms, her lovely bosoms™... oof. At the same time, a wonderful and harmonic instrumental music will play in the background and match the melodic partition of shudders, breathes and moans let out by our lovers. I can imagine Luke inspiring himself from his performance in the 2019 short film, Youth In Bed. The way he conveyed the awe and the yearning on his face, in his eyes with his mouth slightly open when he knelt before his partner Shun Yin was just captivating and— and so Colin! I cannot help but bring myself to picture Ethan, the character he played in YIB, in a Polin steamy scene. I cannot unsee this anymore jsksk. I mean, all this gifset radiates this book4chapter18!Colin, you cannot tell me otherwise!

    Also, I would love Shonda and Chris to keep Pen and Colin’s cute/emotional pillow talk. One thing I really love in JQ’s books is the concern she gives to her male protagonists about potentially hurting their partner during the act of penetration. Colin is a rake, and what his experience with women taught him is that he needs to be very gentle with the love of his life. It was so adorable seeing him not wanting to harm her and asking her to tell him if he does anything she doesn’t like 🥺. Plus, before actually doing it, Colin and Penelope shared a few kisses and just laid down side by side, confessing their love. Though our boy kept feeling guilty about not returning her love after all these years. He desires nothing but to make up for the lost time and show his love and desire during this special intimate moment. I hope they’ll keep all of chapter 18’s dialogue. It’s just so telling of our boos’ feelings, you see.

    All in all, I can’t wait to watch those Polin steamy scenes. As much as I may sound crazy, I want them after two other seasons of pure pining and yearning in order to have a very good payoff. I’m not an expert on depicting intimacy on screen, but I loved so far what Lizzy Talbot, the intimacy coordinator who worked on the show, have done in season 1. Sex scenes in Bridgerton seem very real and dive you in the intimacy of the moment, leaving you all flustered and hot. So probs to her! I have faith in her work and have no doubts about what her and the directors will serve us in future seasons. Though, in the end, I think it’s mostly up to the actors, Nicola and Luke, to see if they’re comfortable filming sex scenes.

    If you guys have any suggestions or wishes for those steamy polin scenes, please do share them :) by commenting on this post or by sending me asks! I’d love reading your thoughts/take on this very important matter ;)) 

[calumxkisses]

Take My Breath Away | c.h.

pairing: calum hood x reader

genre: angst

summary: it’s Crystal and Michael wedding, a day of happiness, but your heart is breaking.

a/n: hello everyone! I’m back after months with a new imagine. as always, let me know what you think about it, I hope you’ll like it!

song for this part: take my breath away

♡♡♡

You were in the bathroom splashing your face with water, but carefully trying not to mess up the makeup you spended so much time working on. Your mascara was slightly smudged under your eyes, but you removed it effortlessly, still remembering the sweet vows that Michael and Crystal exchanged just an hour ago that made you cry like a baby.

The ceremony was as beautiful as them, their love showed in all the little details: from the decorations, created with red and white flowers - embellished with wildflowers, to simply the way they looked at each other.

You were honored to be one of Crystal’s bridesmaids, it filled your heart to see them getting married in front of your eyes, the same pair of eyes that noticed them exchanging their first ‘Hi’  four years ago.

You fixed your dress - a rose gold V-neck dress - and stepped outside the bathroom, ready to dream with the bride and groom's first dance.

“Hey, here you are! I was looking for you!” The sudden voice made you jump but a small smile appeared on your lips. You took a moment to look at him completely, without the haste of having to be ready in time: his curly black hair was messy but still incredibly perfect, his black tuxedo was carefully buttoned but his necktie was missing, letting the white shirt show completely.

Calum looked perfect, nothing new then his normal self, but something about him wearing a tuxedo during a wedding, was different.

“Your necktie is missing, you’re already having fun?” You said smiling but your heart ached a little.

“It was just uncomfortable, I told Mike I’d have removed it as soon as the ceremony was ended. But I’m planning to have a lot of fun later.” He grinned and winked at you.

You slapped him on his arm and he laughed, making your heart skip a beat.

“You look really beautiful today, I’m pretty sure you own this color. You were the prettiest there - probably more pretty than Crystal, Sierra and Kay, but don’t tell them or they’re going to kick me out of the band.” He laughed but your cheeks started to become as red as the rose in your hairstyle.

You changed the subject, hoping to relieve the color from your face. “Thank you, but they’ll probably kick you out because of the embarrassing things you said during your Best Man speech. That was a lot, Calum, I don’t think I’ve ever seen Michael wanting to kill you as much as he did before.”

“He deserved it! He ruined my favorite T-shirt, he had to pay and you know that!” He said pretending to be offended, but a huge grin on his face showed otherwise.

“Absolutely! I just thought that you wanted to-”

“What are you guys doing here? You’re gonna miss Crystal and Michael’s first dance!” Mitch said breathing heavily, a sign that he had been looking for you for a while.

“We gotta go, then! C’mon or we are gonna miss it and we don’t want that, right?” Calum said smiling and putting a hand on your back, making sure that you follow Mitch.

His touch sended goosebumps all over your body and your heart started to beat faster. You were used to be with him and to feel his body touch yours, after been friends for years, it was natural to fall asleep on each other's shoulder, to touch hands while in a crowd or to hug after a party.

Calum was now part of your routine. He was ready to laugh at your jokes even before you started telling them, to hold your hair while you threw up your bad decisions in a toilet, and to took care of you when the world seemed to release its weight on your shoulders.

Hood was the kind of person who lights up a room every time he entered it, who had the strength to get up every time he fell to his knees, who hummed Frank Ocean songs while making popcorn or who let you into his world  when everything seemed to go wrong, because he was ready to share his demons with you.

Calum Hood was the only one capable of taking your breath away just looking at you. But he didn’t know that and you weren’t sure that he’d never know.

“I might ruin everything!” You once cried at Crystal while she was to the other side of the phone, ready to help you out during your umpteenth love breakdown.

“..Or he also might have feelings for you and you'd end up getting together, even better married! We could do a double wedding!” She said, trying to cheer you up a little.

“Yeah, no, that’s not going to happen. I’d steal the show and It wouldn’t be right for you.”

Crystal and Michael were the most beautiful bride and groom you have ever seen. The way they looked at each other, touched each other and even the way they got lost in their world to the tune of one of the most loving songs on earth, every single aspect of their life together was a symbol of the strong love that they had.

Crystal's eyes were filled with tears and Michael was ready to wipe them away one by one for the rest of his life.

The smile on their lips was enough to understand why marriage is identified as "the most beautiful day of a couple's life" and the look they gave to each other was filled with passion and feeling, a love that blossomed almost by chance, but which was meant for life.

Immersed in a moment so happy and full of love, you turned to look at Calum, only a few centimeters away from you, and you saw him give the same gaze that Michael was turning to his bride, full of love and passion, to the girl to his right.

When Calum first told you that he had met a girl, you didn't pay much attention to it.

He was handsome, tall, but above all, he was the drummer in one of the most emerging bands of the moment and it was normal for him to meet new people.

When he first introduced her to you, the first thing you noticed was the way he looked at her. She was beautiful, sure, and surely the pimple on your face made you feel even more inferior to her, but the way Calum stared at her was what made you feel pain.

It seemed as if he had never seen a more beautiful girl, it was his most precious gift and the fact that he was introducing her to you meant that his intentions were serious.

When he confessed to you that he had feelings her, you thought you felt your heart break. You were ready to rush to the emergency room because you were sure you were dying of a broken heart. Calum hadn't talked about love - not like this, at least - for years, despite all the times you tried to convince him that love is beautiful, that sharing, passion, joy and pain with someone else was worth it. And now he was convinced, to the point of saying "I love you" to someone - but not to you. It wasn't you who convinced him otherwise, it wasn't you who showed him the beauty of life and hold him in bed. There was someone else and you weren't sure it was worth it anymore.

And she was there, next to him, her hands holding his, her eyes returning his gaze.

“Hey, we are gonna go dance, will you be okay?” He asked with such a sweet innocent smile.

You swallowed your tears and nodded at him. “Yeah, just go dance, loser. I’ll wait here.” A fake smile plastered on your face.

There he was, beautiful as ever. The soft lights reflected his breathtaking brown eyes making them look more glossier than usual while his hands were on her hips. They were laughing and smiling at each other, him kissing her hand.

Slow dancing in the middle of the room, and slowly breaking your heart, you faked your best smile and waved at them, watching them fall in love.

“I love you.” He whispered, but it wasn’t in your ear.

Slowly breaking apart, you looked at him one last time before leaving the room.

...

[giorno-plays-piano]

Long & Lost

Pairing: Leone Abbacchio x Reader

Warnings: yandere-ish Abbacchio, obsession, stalking, mentions of violence, allusion to kidnapping and forced marriage.

Words: 5445.

Summary: You needed to call him, you told yourself firmly and grabbed the phone, trying to stay determined. You needed to at least figure out if Abbacchio were alive and well. In the end, nobody forced you to tell him he had a son in that very moment, right? You'd tell him if he proved he deserved to know.

_______________________

Holding a crumpled piece of paper with Libeccio's number on it in your hand, you looked at the phone in front of you and sighed, unsure what to do. You'd heard Abbacchio was seen in that restaurant multiple times, so there really was a chance of you finally finding him, but you didn't know if you needed it that desperately. You knew what he had been through, and you doubted there was anything left of the man you loved once. But then you glanced at the photo of you little son on your desk and thought that your child deserved to have a chance to know his father - that is, if Leone would be willing to see his own child. Otherwise you'd have to come up with some sad story of your lovely boyfriend dying before he could get to know his son just like your mother advised you multiple times.

You little boy Dante was two years old now, and despite all the hardships related to raising him on your own, Dante still was your joy and pride. You realized you were pregnant almost right after Leone broke up with you: that time you were just a student with little to no means of support, and it hit you hard but you decided to keep your child, nevertheless. You couldn't bring yourself to get rid of him, and now you were thankful to that innocent young girl for the decision she made. Dante was your world.

But the older he got, the more you thought what would happen when one day he would ask you where's his dad. All children have a dad, haven't they? Then he should have one, too. You feared that moment, knowing you barely could tell your son the truth: your father doesn't even know about your existence.

By the time you decided to keep your child, Abbacchio already got himself in troubles, getting mixed up with some street thugs. You heard his partner even died because Leone couldn't pull the trigger, afraid those thugs gonna report him to police. Was it all true? You wanted to know it so desperately you went to see him in a detention facility, but Abbacchio you met weren't his old self. He was just a shadow of a man he'd been once, and despite all your efforts he remained broken, silently awaiting for the court to give him the punishment he deserved. You realized you were going to raise your child all alone, but it didn't deter you. In fact, when Leone finally got out, you even tried contacting him again and sending him some money until he figured things out. Of course, when you found out he spent all those money on cheap wine, you stopped doing it - your baby needed you more than him. After that you dropped all your attempts to keep in contact with the father of your child, and he had never learnt about Dante. It's for the best, your mother were telling you over and over again. A child doesn't need a dad who can't take care of himself, less of his family. Besides, was Abbacchio even as good as you imagined him to be? He was as corrupted as all those cops he hated so much while being in a police academy, your mother reminded you. Maybe she was right.

Dropping out of school to provide for your son, you had been through six kinds of hell in the last three years. There wasn't a job you hadn't done: scrubbing floors, delivering pizza, running errands for wealthy families, selling flowers and cheap makeup... and on top of it you had to take care of your child having no knowledge how to do it properly. Thankfully, your mother was there to give you a hand, and you were grateful for her help even if she had been scolding all the time for ruining your life so early. Did you know how hard it would be for you to get married, she asked you all the time while you were getting home late at night, tired to death. Do you realize people are calling you rotten behind your back because your son has no father, she kept saying over and over again trying to make you guilty, but you learnt not to listen. What's done is done. Who cares what people say if they will find a reason to humiliate you one way or the other?

You kept working, changing jobs and slowly getting a better salary, finding yourself a better place: you were now working as a manager in a candy store, its owners a nice married couple old enough to be your grandparents. You earned enough to live decently, and now you could afford buying your son new clothes instead of asking your friends and acquaintances for something their own kids and brothers wore once. Signora Russo, the one who was in charge of the store, treated you kindly, ready to give you some time off if Dante needed to be taken to doctor or somewhere else important. You also worked close to home, and if anything happened you could always storm off, telling the store clerk you'd be gone for a half an hour or so.

Life was good to you, you thought, your baby's bright smile making you feel much better in an instant. Dante had Leone's eyes, his hair of the very same shade.

You needed to call him, you told yourself firmly and grabbed the phone, trying to stay determined. You needed to at least figure out if Abbacchio were alive and well. In the end, nobody forced you to tell him he had a son in that very moment, right? You'd tell him if he proved he deserved to know.

"I'm looking for Leone Abbacchio." You said to the man on the other end of that phone, shivering from the thought you might really hear him the next minute. Shit, you really hoped he wasn't there.

"What is your name, Signora?" The stranger asked politely, and you were ready to drop the phone and run to the other room where your son was already laying asleep in his tiny bed,

Clenching your teeth, you told the man your name. Was Abbacchio really there? You ended up chewing phone's wire, that's how nervous you were, thinking what you were going to say and how he might react. Was he still bitter? Did he finally sort things out for himself? Did he stopped drinking? Was he going to accuse of not supporting him during his worst years?

"He is coming, Signora." The stranger told you calmly, and you felt your heart dropping somewhere to your stomach. Dio Mio, Leone was there. Those rumors were true, he was really there!

But before you mentally prepared yourself, you heard his low voice on the other side of the phone, his tone icy cold as if he wanted to never hear from you again. "Abbacchio."

You slowly got down on your chair with your palm rubbing your forehead tiredly. It seemed he was that very same Abbacchio who walked out the prison a couple of years ago, just a bit more sober this time. Funny, you thought things had changed for him, didn't you? You believed in people too much, that's what both your mother and Signora Russo would say, exchanging glances.

"Hi." You told him quietly, your eyes on the framed photo of your smiling son. "Haven't heard from you for a long time, Leone."

He let out a sound of irritation you knew a little too well, and you're very much aware he thought you're a traitor who left him behind when it had been him who broke up with you years ago. That was his problem, thinking people around had always owned him something, easily forgetting all the good things that were done for him once. You realized you were thinking about the same prior to a break up, wondering if your relationships were going to last if Abbacchio was going to behave the same way.

"What do you want? I don't have much time for you." He snorted, and despite you being so far from him during all that time, it still hurt so bad you clenched the phone in your hand, your eyes almost swelling with tears at his words. Did he felt better hurting you? You bet he did, having his revenge over someone who had nothing to do with him choosing his path. "Bucciarati's waiting for me, so be quick."

Bucciarati. He was referring to the man who had been seen with him, but you hoped it was just a rumor, too. You were well aware who Bucciarati was: all delivery guys and girls knew him and many other men with whom you shouldn't get mixed up. Passione was a power to reckon with even if you were talking about some low profile gangster who just got into a gang.

So, all those rumors were true. Abbacchio changed his side completely and joined mafia just like many other broken men before him. The next moment you realized how futile were your attempts to unite what you called a family in your dreams: were you really trying to let your child meet his father, a damn criminal who was probably murdering other people? Selling drugs? Beating the shit out of Passione's debtors? That was the man you wanted to entrust your beloved child?

"Sorry for bother." You said calmly, letting out a phone's wire you were getting close to torn into pieces. "I just wanted to know how you were."

"I'm good. Thanks for your concern." The man said before hanging up, and you staid frozen in your chair, listening to a dial tone. You were both sad and relieved at the same time, thinking how you had just saved your boy from so many troubles that would definitely arise if Leone knew he had a son. No, Dante didn't deserve a father like this. It wasn't his fault Abbacchio was long gone, and you weren't gonna spoil your child's life even if people would continue whispering your son was someone's bastard.

__________________

You didn't know the man got suspicious after your call, thinking you were up to something: he thought as low of you as of anyone he met prior to his encounter with Bucciarati. In Abbacchio's mind you all had betrayed him when he needed you the most, quickly disregarding your attempts to help him stay afloat with little money you had been sending him. Being extremely bitter, he felt the urge to dig up something about you, hoping you were in such deep shit you needed a help of a man like him. He was sure you were well-aware of his change of occupation, and it brought him a twisted satisfaction thinking of you whoring to him for his help. The only thing he found odd was that you didn't voice your plea. Did you get so scared of him you decided not to ask him for a favor? Abbacchio desperately wanted to know.

Finding out where you worked was an easy thing, and soon Abbacchio knew who you were now and how much you earned. It surprised him that you worked in a candy store: Leone remembered you were preparing to become a teacher. Did you drop out of university? He discovered you did. It was odd to him, remembering how eager you were to study. Why?

He found out the reason when he saw you walking with your baby boy during the weekend, Dante's tiny arm in yours as he was hurrying to the toy store window, then pressing his palms to the glace and watching a beautiful red toy train moving behind the window. The boy had his hair and his eyes. It wasn't hard to realize whose son that cheerful little boy was.

Abbacchio admitted with shame he wasn't prepared to it, quickly getting away as far as he could as if he couldn't look at the face of his own child. He had never thought something like that was possible: him? Being a father? Sure, Abbacchio wasn't a virgin, but the thought of someone having his child had never crossed his mind. At first he even tried thinking the child couldn't be his: how old the boy was? Wasn't he too young to be his son? By the time he was born Abbacchio had already been imprisoned.

"Doesn't mean she couldn't get pregnant while we still dated." He thought with shame, finding out Dante's birth date and realizing it was very much the reality.

Besides, his boy looked so much like him it was silly to pretend Dante wasn't Abbacchio's son. A part of him instantly got enraged with your decision to raise the boy on your own, not even letting his father know about his existence, but the man quickly cooled down, perfectly understanding why a drunkard he was then wouldn't make a good parent. You did nothing wrong. You even sent him money while you needed them much more than him.

Abbacchio still couldn't understand why you didn't abort an illegitimate child you weren't ready to bring up on your own - he wouldn't judge you if you did. You had been so young, almost a child yourself, barely able to take care of your own life while you had to provide for your son now. Your family wasn't rich, and he could imagine how much you struggled to stay afloat. Still, you kept your baby, your little boy you had been taking such a good care of: Abbacchio spied on you, stalking you while you walked with Dante or played outside, watching through your windows how you cooked and read him fairytales and tucked him to sleep. You were a good mother.

When Leone thought the only reason you called him was to let him know he had a son, he was ready to bang his head against a concrete wall. He knew why you ended up keeping quiet: he failed the test, talking to you as if he hated you to death and then mentioning Bucciarati's name. Bruno had been well-known in your area, and now you knew Abbacchio became a gangster. No mother would entrust her child to someone like him, and it had been his fault all alone, he realized that.

But he just couldn't leave you and his child without even acknowledging he knew he had a son. Even if Abbacchio wouldn't be the best father, he could still try his best: after Giorno became the next Don, he made Bucciarati's gang his own Unità Speciale, and Abbacchio was now a respected member of Passione with a fat wallet. With his help you could afford much more, moving to a more comfortable place, having better food and clothes, getting Dante to a better school once he grew up a bit. In the end, Leone could protect the both of you much better than you, just a simple woman who had to raise her son in a city full of criminals. He wasn't a drunkard with no goal but to drown out his day anymore.

That's why one day he showed up near the building where you lived, watching your mother taking her grandson and leading him to the apartment where you all lived while you hurried to the store to buy some food. He barely stopped himself from calling your mother, eager to take his boy in his hands, see his smile and chubby cheeks, ruffle his light grey hair and hear him laughing. No, Leone had to talk to you first, and it wasn't going to be easy.

Once you came back, a grocery bag in your hand, your face tired, he was waiting for you near a bench, and you flinched upon seeing him, your eyes getting wide. You surely didn't expect him to be there, least to give you something that almost looked like a smile.

Oh, you had a bad feeling about all that. Your hateful ex wouldn't just show up for no reason, you knew.

"Hello." He said surprisingly politely, and you started nervously chewing your lips. What did he want?

"Hello, Leone." You tried to keep your tone neutral to appear calm. "Good to see you looking well. Sorry, I'm in a rush, let's talk some other time."

Continuing to walk, you did your best passing him to hide in the hall of the building where you lived, but no one could brush off Abbacchio easily.

"I know." He said loudly as if he were afraid you would disappear before talking to him, almost ready to grab your arm but staying on his place when you stopped. "I know about him. About my son."

"He is my son." You roared like a lion, your hands clenched into fists when you turned your head to your former lover, but instead of getting intimidated or irritated the man felt proud: you were the best mother for his child Abbacchio could wish for.

"Of course."

There was no threat in his voice, and you relaxed a little, taking a deep breath and coming closer to the man still waiting for you near the bench. You didn't want to start a war, not with a man of Passione, unless Leone was going to take Dante away from you. You had to figure out what Abbacchio wanted.

"I haven't come here to steal the boy from you." He said, and you exhaled loudly, your palms shaking lightly. "I know you're a good mother."

You wanted to feel relieved, but something on the back of your mind told you Abbacchio wasn't there to compliment you and go away. He wanted something. What? Even if he knew you gave birth to his child, he had little to do with him now.

"I am." You admitted, unwilling to pretend to be polite anymore and hoping you'd get things sorted out before your mother started worrying about you. "Leone, what do you want?"

Your voice sounded harsh, and the man straigthen his back, getting closer to you: Abbacchio knew it wasn't going to be easy, but it wasn't your fault you wanted your child to be safe, thinking his father was a threat to him. It was up to Abbacchio to prove you he wasn't, eager to keep his boy safe and sound.

"Please, let me see him." He asked you, and you heard a plea in his voice. You couldn't remember when was the last time it happened. "I know what you think of me, and you're right about many things, but I want my child to know me."

"And what is he going to do with this knowledge?" You narrowed your eyes at your ex-boyfriend, rage boiling deep inside your chest. "What's it to Dante?"

"I will take care of him. And you."

Smirking, you shook your head, unable to believe him. Look, that son of a bitch was being so sweet to you now, pretending like meddling with his son's life wasn't a question of his enormous ego, that's what you thought. Did he really imagine you'd let him get close to Dante after you found out who he became?

"We don't need your help, thank you very much." You snorted, your fists clenched so tight it hurt you, nails digging into the skin.

"Then why did you call?"

Your eyes were getting wet as you chewed your lips to pieces, eating your lipstick and trying not to show the man your crying face. Abbacchio didn't deserve to see you like this. Of course, you shouldn't have called him. You desire to make things right only brought you more problems, as usual. It was even worse since now it concerned not only you but your baby, too. Dio Mio, why did you do it? Why did you try to talk to Abbacchio before finding out what he was doing now?

"To see if you got better." You said sarcastically, shaking your head in disbelief. "I thought I might tell you that you have a son, you know, if you sorted things out for yourself."

"I did." His voice sounded louder again when the man was getting emotional, both desperation and anger on his face. "I don't have an issue with drinking anymore. I don't even remember the last time I got drunk."

Taking a step back when he was dangerously close to you, you snorted, "Yeah, you just kill people now. Being a mafia's guard dog is so much better than being an alcoholic."

You could see Abbacchio getting furious, but you couldn't back down now when he was obviously determined to meet Dante despite all your warnings. Had he thought what it meant to be a son of a gangster? Did he imagine what his boy would have to go through just because his father belonged with Passione? You didn't care about his money or what Leone could give you, you were able to provide for Dante yourself. You couldn't, however, protect him against criminals who would come after him and you to have their revenge against Abbacchio. You'd have to watch your back all the time, but they would find a way to get to you, you were sure of it. Why didn't Abbacchio think about that? Was he so full of himself he thought he could protect your son at all costs?

Of course, it was his enormous ego again.

"I'm not gonna pretend my job has nothing to do with murder, but I'm not some Passione soldato anymore. I work directly for the new Don, and nobody gonna touch you and Dante once people know."

"Leone, please stop. I watched two delivery guys getting shot by men of Passione." You could barely hold your tears. "Don't you tell me my boy will grow up knowing that's what his dad is doing for life. Leave him alone for his own good! Let me give him a story about his policeman father getting fatally shot while on duty, and he will know his father was a hero."

Watching your eyes swelling with tears, the man in front of let out a sigh: he still couldn't watch you cry despite spending years apart. He fought the urge to come closer and touch your cheek, offering you some comfort, but he realized you would brush him off, not wanting the long lost intimacy. You weren't his beloved. Funny enough, he broke up with you himself, although now Abbacchio couldn't even remember why.

"He can have a true father instead of some fake legend." The man whispered, watching tears finally streaming down your cheeks.

"Give him a privilege to stay far away from this filth." Even though you kept wiping your face with the back of your palm, tears didn't stop falling, leaving dark spots on your pretty blue blouse. "Please, Leone. We both pay our experiences on our skin, but he isn't at fault just because he was born to us. Please... give him a chance to become a good man."

Abbacchio realized he wasn't able to get his way with you after what you had said. He just couldn't, knowing you were right. His son didn't deserve this.

_____________________

From that day he left you alone just as he had promised. Sometimes you got gifts with no notes, but you didn't need them, knowing where they came from: Abbacchio sent Dante expensive toys, the first one being that very same red train your boy wanted so much; then there were clothes, pretty little shoes, once you even got a new bed for him. Some stuff was for you, like that box of chocolate you loved once or a pair of golden earrings you had never worn. You wished he didn't send you anything at all, but receiving gifts from time to time was still better than having Leone at your door, willing to take your son away from you. Anyway, it wasn't Abbacchio himself delivering those things. No one was gonna make a hustle over something so inconsiderable, that's what you thought.

Silly you, thinking his enemies were stupid enough they couldn't trace those little gifts Leone had been sending someone over and over again. It was so much out of his character it was obvious the person had been important to him, and once they found out it was a young woman with a child who looked so much like him, it wasn't a secret anymore.

As the days passed, nothing changing in your life drastically, you had finally relaxed, thinking of taking a vacation and leaving the town for a week or two; your mother would certainly appreciated it after all this time. You were walking down the street with Dante's hand in yours when it all happened, a large white van stopping near you, a man getting out of it so quickly you had no time to react, looking at the gun he was covering with a newspaper.

"Get in there." The stranger growled, his eyes darting towards your baby boy. "Him too."

Freezing at your spot, you grabbed Dante's hand so hard he was going to cry, watching you and some man he didn't recognize staring at each other intensely. You wanted to shout, yell loudly so the whole street would hear you, but you were staring at the black gun's muzzle, and everything inside you got cold from the thought that man would shoot without a second thought, throwing your child inside the van once he'd be done with you. You certainly weren't immortal to withstand a few bullets from such distance.

You got inside without a word, holding Dante in your hands and trying to see in the darkness: the van had no windows on the back, and everything there was pitch black. It didn't matter, though, as once you turned up inside somebody had injected a syringe deep into your neck, and the world turned black in a couple of seconds, your baby's scream ringing in your ears.

Your poor little boy. You knew one day it would happen to him even if Abbacchio stayed away from the two of you.

By the time you woke up in some unknown place on a large, comfortable bed, it had already been late night, the moon shining bright in the night sky. You tried getting up immediately, but the dull headache made you groan and almost fell down the floor before somebody's strong arms caught you, carefully placing you back on the bed. You saw Abbacchio's worried face inches from yours, his brows furrowed as he watched you, afraid you might be in pain.

"Are you alright?" He managed to say, but you didn't bother answering him, your hand grabbing his as you tried getting up again only to be pressed into bed.

"Where's Dante?" Your voice sounded hoarse. "Where's he?!"

You remembered what had happened even despite that headache: a street, a van, the man with a gun wrapped in a newspaper, the lack of light on the backseat. Somebody had kidnapped your son and you, and nothing was making you go more mad than the absence of your baby, probably brought God knew where by the criminals. Shit, what had they done to him?!

"Calm down." Abbacchio's voice was both caring and strict as he clenched your wrists, pinning you to bed. "You will wake him up if you scream."

"Is he here? Is he here?" You kept asking, your body shaking from the thought Dante could be severely injured.

"Yes, he's safe. Nobody touched one hair on his head." Carefully helping you sit on the bed, Abbacchio pulled you to him, letting you rest your head on his half-naked chest, his skin becoming damp from tears streaming down your face: you were in deep shock, shivering, unable to pull yourself together, but nobody could blame you. "Narancia's with him now in the room next to ours. He's perfectly alright."

You couldn't utter a word, crying so hard and wrapping your arms around Leone as if you were drowning in the sea, and he was your lifeline. You needed him so desperately you couldn't let him go for a couple of minutes, weeping quietly against his chest. When was the last time it happened? Abbacchio couldn't remember, but the feeling of you needing him awoken something in the man, something he had long forgotten. Leaving a soft kiss on your forehead, he snuggled you closer to him, whispering words of comfort into your ear as if you were a little girl, and then started gently stroking your back.

He missed it. He missed somebody's warmth as much as you missed it, too, but you had your dear boy, and Abbacchio had no one. Of course, he would die for Bucciarati, and the gang became like a family to him, but a having a family with you was something much, much different. Waking up next to you, snoring lightly in your sleep as you hug your pillow, and nuzzling against your soft, warm body until your boy wakes up the two of you, and you hurry to feed him while Abbacchio is helping him dress. He would let Dante sit on his shoulders while all of you walk, and you'd laugh, watching the man nag when the baby was going to grab his hair too tightly.

He'd see his boy growing up, always there to give him a hand when he needed it the most, and help you to take all that weight from your shoulders you had been carrying for years. You didn't deserve living like this, struggling to raise Dante on your own just because you happened to get pregnant from a useless man like Abbacchio. He wouldn't make you go through all this alone when he was perfectly capable of taking care of both you and his son.

Especially now when you had been attacked so suddenly, and if he wouldn't be close, stalking you like he always did week after week, Leone was afraid to think what would happen.

"You're safe, principessa." He muttered, leaving on more kiss on the top your head, and you smiled weakly: you still remembered him calling you like that when you two still dated. "And Dante's too. I will ask Narancia to bring him to you if you promise to be quiet. It's very hard to make your baby sleep, you know that?"

You chuckled at his attempt to humor you, trying to wipe the tears away. "That's because he has your genes, and you're stubborn like a mule."

"Very much so." Abbacchio chuckled, too, and carefully stood up, motioning you to keep quiet as you stared at him nervously.

When he returned with Narancia gently cradling your boy in his arms, you covered your mouth with your palm, instantly getting of the bed and watching your baby sleep soundly - the guy holding him looked like a baby, too, but you admitted how careful he was with Dante, humming something quietly to keep the boy asleep. Although you wanted to take Dante in your arms, you knew you risked waking him up, and he certainly didn't need more stress after today's events. Nodding to Narancia and mouthing him thank you, you returned to sit on the bed, waiting for Abbacchio. He came back right after closing the door after the guy carrying Dante.

"Thank you." You mumbled, your eyes puffy from crying and rubbing them, your eyes looking down. "Thank you so much for saving him."

"What are you saying?' The man landed next to you and enveloped you in a hug, letting your head rest on his shoulder. "You are my family. I won't ever abandon you."

No, he wouldn't. Soon enough he'd convince you that living on your own was no longer an option, and after you'd move in he would find a way to convince you to marry him, giving both you and his son the family you deserved. He was sure neither Giorno nor Bruno would be against it as both of them were going to get married, too, and they could understand what it meant to take care of their loved ones. Abbacchio would keep you safe, ready to provide you with everything you needed so you wouldn't have to worry about working or spending your time elsewhere but home.

Abbacchio would give his son a chance to become a good man, but he didn't need to become a shadow from his son's past. He had a family to take care of, the ones who needed him much more than anyone else ever did.

[ukulelecal]

Bloom - Part Two

The story of flowers.

Pairing: Poet!Luke Hemmings x Female!OC

Warnings: a bit more angst but def more fluff. implied smut. a couple swears probably. hella feelings. mentions of anxiety

Word Count: 6.8k

A/N: here is the second part!! less sad than the first!! lol anyways, i hope you guys love it, there will be one more part after this! reminder that feedback and reblogs are sosososo important to creators x 

series masterlist

my masterlist // posted on ao3

*One year later*

Devon’s new school wasn’t all that she had imagined it to be.

Her classes were great. She was learning so much and her professors were very encouraging and helpful. Everything else, however, wasn’t so ideal.

She wasn’t fond of her classmates. Perhaps she was just so used to her old school, but everyone rubbed her the wrong way. She had only found a few friends that she trusted, but she didn’t even see them much. They had attended undergrad at that school, and they already knew everyone. Devon couldn’t quite make her way into the friend group.

She wasn’t a fan of the city, either. It simply didn’t have the vibe or the excitement that home did.

Home. She tried not to use that word to describe where she once lived, but her mind continuously went back to it. She knew exactly why.

That’s where Luke was.

Devon hadn’t heard from him since she moved. She left with a very brief goodbye and good luck wish, but that was it. She held back her tears during the Uber ride to the airport and all through the plane ride.

Luke, now alone in the apartment, broke down as soon as she left. He should have been the one taking her to the airport, kissing her goodbye and promising that everything would be okay. But nothing was okay anymore.

It had been a year since Devon moved, and the now broken up couple was doing a lot better. Devon distracted herself with schoolwork and trying to find her place in her new environment. She took up kickboxing as well as a way to let out her emotions, although the muscles she was developing were a plus as well.

Luke still had the same coping mechanism he always had; writing poetry. He poured his heart and soul into countless poems. They were completely raw, completely honest. He held nothing back. Frankly, they were his best work.

Devon’s first year of grad school officially came to an end. It was as if a weight was lifted off her shoulders. She couldn’t say she was happy there, but she wasn’t there to make friends. She was there to get her master’s, and she wasn’t going to quit. For herself and for her family.

A very unexpected text quickly changed any plans that Devon might have had for the summer.

It was from Luke.

“Hey Devon. I know it’s been a while and I hope grad school is going well. But it's official. My first poetry book is getting published. You probably don’t want to hear from me, and I understand, but you were always the person that believed in me the most. Thank you for that. Truly. I wouldn’t be here without you. I’m having a release party in a few weeks. Nothing big, just close friends and family. It would mean a lot to me if you came.”

Her heart skipped a beat as soon as she saw his name flash across her screen. Not a single word had been exchanged between them in the past year. A part of Devon had been wishing that he would reach out, even if it was just to say hi and check in. She almost texted him a few times, but something always stopped her.

Hearing from him after so long brought an array of emotions, but the one that overwhelmed her the most was pride.

Devon knew how much this meant to him. He opened up to her about it on their very first date freshman year. She remembered sitting across from him at the coffee shop on campus, and the way his eyes lit up as he talked about releasing a book. She found his passion admirable, and she had every faith in him that he would succeed. She was his biggest supporter through the years; she was there to comfort him when he got rejected and help him through his bouts of writer’s block. He always told her that she was his biggest inspiration. Most of his poems ended up being about her in some capacity.

Despite everything that happened between, Devon couldn’t fathom missing this momentous time in his life.

With a deep breath, she typed out a reply.

“I would love to come. It means a lot that you thought of me.”

The weeks leading up to the party were utterly nerve wracking, for both Devon and Luke.

It took Luke a few days to work up the courage to invite Devon. He was scared she hated him and wouldn’t care to come, that she would be appalled at him thinking even for a second that she might want to see him again. It took a lot of convincing from Ashton, a college friend that he invited to move into the apartment once Luke realized he couldn’t afford the rent on his own and that he couldn’t stand being in the apartment by himself, but he did it. Luke wasn’t sure he breathed at all in the minutes it took her to respond.

Now that she was officially attending, it left the two to question what seeing each other would be like after a year apart. Would it be awkward? Would they end up having another argument and cause more pain? Would they be unrecognizable to each other?

The uncertainty was painstaking, but Devon reminded herself that she was there to support Luke, and Luke reminded himself that he would have given up a long time ago if it weren’t for Devon.

The time finally came for the release party. They both hardly slept the night before. Luke was alone in the bed that he used to share with the woman he hadn’t seen in a year, while she laid in a hotel bed just blocks away. Things felt different knowing that they weren’t hundreds of miles away anymore, and the next day they would see each other.

Devon pandered around her hotel room all day, doing her best to distract herself. She scrolled through every channel on the television, but nothing kept her attention. She did a workout, but every song on her workout playlist managed to remind her of Luke in some way.

They day dragged on until it was finally time for Devon to get ready. She played calming music in the shower to slow her heart rate and took her time doing her hair and makeup. It took some effort to steady her hands, but she got the job done.

Luke had been able to keep himself busy all day. A couple of his friends, Calum and Michael, shared a flat that was decently bigger than Luke’s apartment, and graciously offered to host the party there. Him and Ashton went over there early to make sure the place was clean and that all the food and drinks were ready.

Once guests started arriving, the nerves came back in full force.

He could only hope that he was really ready to see Devon.

For her, the Uber ride to the address Luke gave her hit every single red light. She bounced her leg in the back seat, unsure if she was thankful for the longer ride or if she hated it. On one hand, it gave her more time to prepare herself. However, every passing second made her nervousness increase.

Time stopped when the car parked in front of the flat.

She stared at it for a moment, the fact that Luke was just inside making her fingers tremble.

She didn’t realize she was still sitting there until the driver asked her if she was okay. She quickly thanked him and climbed out of the car.

Devon slowly made her way up the walkway, reminding herself with each step that this was a huge deal for Luke. His dreams were finally coming true. He had expressed to her that he credited her in part for his success. He must not have harbored any major negative feelings against her, otherwise she wouldn’t have been invited.

She almost felt a sense of calm as she reached the front door.

She slowly pushed it open, Luke having told her it would be unlocked and she could let herself in. Once inside, she didn’t see him right away. She recognized some friends from her undergraduate days, but nobody seemed to notice her right away.

A tall figure came out from the kitchen, and Devon had to do a double take.

Luke had certainly grown in their year apart.

His curls were shorter in the back and longer on top, and it looked like they had been dyed at some point. He opted for a pair of glasses instead of contacts, and he had a beard. She had never seen him with more than some stubble. He had on a forest green sweater that she always said was her favorite; she wondered if he had worn it on purpose. She couldn’t blame him if he did, considering she was wearing the long sleeved, yellow floral dress that Luke always said he loved on her.

He looked completely different, but at the same time, he was still her Luke.

All of her anxieties melted away the second he looked at her.

“Devon.”

It felt so natural. It was as if all of the pain that came from the last time they saw each other had gone away. They both knew in the back of their minds there wasn’t any bad blood between them, as much as their breakup hurt. Neither had exactly done anything wrong.

“You made it,” he continued through a deep breath.

“You know I wouldn’t miss this for the world, Lu.”

Devon looked the same. Her hair was a little longer than the last time he saw her, and he could tell that she had put on some muscle from the way she filled out her dress a little more. She looked good, healthy.

Luke silently thanked whoever was listening that she seemed alright, at least physically. He could acknowledge that he went into a bit of a downward spiral in terms of taking care of himself when she left. He hardly slept and completely shut himself out from everyone that reached out to him. Ashton moving in helped, but certain days made it bad again, like when their anniversary and Devon’s birthday passed. He didn’t want the same for her. He wanted her to do better than him.

Devon had her bad days too. She did better at the beginning when she had so much on her plate, but once things settled down, she was a wreck for a while, not much different than what Luke was like.

He hesitated only a moment before taking Devon into his arms. He prepared himself for her to pull away, but she did quite the opposite. She melted into him, cheek resting against the soft material of his sweater.

Devon remembered all the times she needed a hug. Whenever she had a bad day or was stressed out over school or simply just wanted to be held, Luke was always there. He would mumble a soft assurance under his breath as he took her into his arms, holding her tight as if she’d be gone forever if he let go. He would whisper whatever it was she needed to hear at the moment, although sometimes it was nothing at all.

She didn’t realize how badly she needed this one.

“I’m so glad you’re here, Dev,” Luke whispered into her hair. He could smell the same coconut shampoo she always used and the warm, sweet perfume she always wore. It brought a sense of comfort and familiarity.

“I’m glad to be here. I...I really missed you, Luke.”

The confession felt good. She tried to deny the fact that she missed him, but seeing him again, she realized how much she really had.

“I missed you too.”

Luke pulled away from the hug and kept his hands on Devon’s shoulders. The same blue eyes met the same brown ones. The ghosts of smiles tugged at their corners of their lips. Every worry they had about seeing each other had gone away.

“I want to say congratulations on your book,” Devon mumbled, fiddling with the small clutch she brought. “I’m so proud of you.”

“Thank you,” he responded, a slight blush creeping up his cheeks. “I have to say, I-”

His sentence got caught off by a shout of his name from an arriving guest. He sighed and sent Devon an apologetic look. There was a lot that needed to be said, so much that needed to be talked about, but they knew that this wasn’t the time or place to do so.

“It’s fine, go on. We’ll catch up later, bub-” she cut herself off, the pet name she called him so often about to slip from her lips so naturally. “Okay?”

Luke sighed sadly but gave her a smile. He understood why she stopped herself, but God, he would have loved to hear her call him that again.

“Okay. See you in a bit, Dev.”

Luke slowly walked away to greet the new arrivals while Devon wandered off to find people she knew. She came across her good friends from undergrad - mutual between her and Luke - who thankfully seemed excited to see her. They made small talk and asked about grad school before easing into questions about Luke. She should have expected it, but she hadn’t talked much about the breakup since it first happened. It was easy to simply not mention it to her grad school group and they wouldn’t know the difference, but these were the girls that she called sobbing at random times during the day when she needed to talk. It was natural that they were curious.

“Did you two talk at all while you were gone?” One asked, and Devon shook her head.

“No,” she sighed. “I think that was best, though.”

Devon’s eyes trailed to the right. Luke was talking to some family members, laughing. A small grin tugged at the corners of her lips. His laugh was musical and contagious. She always felt proud of herself when she made him laugh. Not that it was a difficult task; he loved to laugh. For Devon, getting to hear the noise was like a gift.

“Dev!”

She snapped her gaze back to her friends. Their expressions were a mixture of smug and concerned. It was obvious that Devon hadn’t gotten over Luke in the past year. She still looked at him the same way she always did. They were still concerned that she would get her heart broken again.

“You still love him, don’t you?”

Devon glanced over at him one more time. She tried to convince herself that she didn’t. She almost threw away her shoebox of poems just to prove it to herself, but she couldn’t do it. It would always be him.

“Of course I do.”

…

The rest of the night, Luke and Devon didn’t speak. They weren’t avoiding each other, but the weight of the conversation they needed to have required the crowd to go away and the festivities to die down before it could happen. They exchanged glances and small smiles, saving the talking for later.

Devon purposely hung back as the crowd startled to trickle out the door. Luke had made a small speech thanking everyone for coming and celebrating with him. Everyone took it as the hint that the party was over. Deciding to help out while she waited, Devon busied herself cleaning up a bit in the kitchen.

Footsteps caught her attention, but they didn’t belong to who she figured they did. Instead of seeing Luke, she saw Ashton. He was Luke’s best friend, and while him and Devon never got super close, she still considered him a friend.

“Hey, Dev,” Ashton greeted with a grin, opening his arms for a hug that she gladly accepted.

“Hi, Ash. How have you been?”

“Good. Just working,” he chuckled as he pulled away from the hug. “You? How’s grad school?”

“It’s pretty good.” Good if he asked about her academics and not her social life, that is.

“That’s good.”

Ashton leaned against the counter across from her, shooting her a look. She raised her eyebrows in expectation.

“Luke’s been freaking out, you know,” Ashton mumbled, sticking his hands in his pockets. “About seeing you.”

Devon sighed and ran a hand through her hair. Somehow, knowing that he was nervous too was comforting.

“Glad it wasn’t just me.”

“He really missed you. I’m sure he’ll tell you all this himself, but in case you don’t believe him, take it from me. He missed you so, so much.”

Devon couldn’t help but smile a little. It was good to hear it from someone else.

“I missed him too. A lot.”

Before Ashton could reply, Luke stepped into the kitchen, eyes flickering back and forth between his best friend and his ex girlfriend. Words got caught in Devon and Luke’s throats, neither of them sure what to say.

“I guess that’s my cue to get out,” Ashton joked, breaking the awkward silence. “Let me know when you’re ready to go home, Luke.”

The man walked out of the kitchen to help Calum and Michael clean up in the living room while Devon turned to look at Luke with furrowed eyebrows.

“Home?” She questioned.

“Ashton moved into the apartment a little while after you left,” Luke admitted, scratching the back of his neck. He took Ashton’s spot against the counter. “I needed a roommate to help with the rent.”

He left out the fact that being alone in there only reminded him that she was gone and he needed someone to keep him company.

Devon nodded in understanding, but felt another twinge of guilt. She hadn’t considered that she was leaving the financial burden onto him. Thankfully Ashton was there.

“How was your night?” Devon asked genuinely. The party was to celebrate his success, and she genuinely hoped he enjoyed it.

“It was really great.” Luke sent her a thankful grin. “I know I said it before, but it really means a lot to me that you’re here. I was afraid you wouldn’t want to come.”

“This is everything you’ve ever wanted. After everything we’ve been through, I would never miss this moment in your life.”

Devon sent him a sad smile that he returned. There was still so much that needed to be said, so much to discuss. A tension hung between them, but not one of anxiety or dread. It was desperation and desire. A yearning for what they once had.

“We need to talk, Dev,” Luke whispered what they were both thinking. “Like, really talk.”

“I know we do.” She glanced at the clock on the wall beside his head. “But it’s getting late. My flight back isn’t until Monday. Maybe we can meet up tomorrow, if you’re free? Get lunch?”

Luke nodded in agreement. It would be best if they both got some sleep and recharged before talking seriously.

“That sounds good.” Luke turned to look at the clock as well and laughed. “I know it’s past your bedtime.”

Devon rolled her eyes playfully. She was the “go to bed early, wake up early” type, while Luke was the opposite.

“Exactly. I need my beauty sleep.”

“Boy, do I know it.”

The two laughed together, for the first time in a long time. It felt so right.

“I should head back then,” Devon announced, reaching behind to grab her clutch that she had set on the counter. “Let me just call an Uber and I’ll be out of here.”

“Don’t worry about that. Ash and I came together, he’ll drive you back. Where are you staying?”

Not one to turn down a free ride, Devon rattled off the name of her hotel. Luke led her to the living room to get Ashton and say goodbye to Calum and Michael. Luke thanked them again for letting him have the party at their place before they were out the door and piled in Ashton’s car. Luke took shotgun while Devon slipped into the back.

The ride to the hotel was quiet. Only Ashton’s soft indie music and the sound of other cars filled the car. Shortly, Ashton pulled to a stop in front of Devon’s hotel. Luke turned around in his seat to face her.

“Thanks again for coming, Dev,” he mumbled softly, a grin on his face.

“Thanks for inviting me. And thanks for the ride, Ashton.” He nodded in acknowledgement before she turned her gaze back to Luke. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Tomorrow. Who knows what tomorrow would bring?

“See you tomorrow.”

Devon climbed out of the car and headed towards the doors, sparing one last glance and a wave before heading inside. Luke watched as she walked in, a small sigh escaping his lips. He turned his head to see Ashton with a smirk on his face.

“What?” Luke questioned.

“You still love her, don’t you, mate?”

Luke sighed again, glancing back towards the doors. Devon was already out of sight, probably in the elevator already. He knew exactly what she was going to do when she got to her room. She would kick off her shoes and then take her makeup off. She’d go through her night time skin care routine, put her hair in a bun with a silk scrunchie, and finally change into her pajamas, which were usually just a big t-shirt and panties. She would probably spend some time reading or watching cooking videos on TikTok before going to bed.

“Of course I do.”

…

Devon swiped one last bit of lip gloss across her lips when Luke texted her that he was outside. Taking a deep breath, she grabbed her purse and phone before heading downstairs to meet him.

The anxiety was coming back. Seeing Luke was one thing, but having a full on conversation was another. It didn’t help that the conversation would surely lead to the topic of their relationship. Their breakup.

Luke was feeling similarly. He had paced around the apartment all morning until Ashton gave him a pep talk. He reminded him that if they didn’t talk, Devon would just leave again and nothing would change. Nothing would get fixed.

The sound of a creaky car door opening snapped Luke from his thoughts, looking up to see Devon climbing in. He sent her a smile.

“Hey, Dev.”

“Hey, Luke. Bertha’s still kicking, I see?” Devon joked as she buckled her seatbelt. She knew that Luke wasn’t going to get rid of his beloved Prius until absolutely necessary, but the fact that the car still functioned at all was shocking.

“I think it might be her time soon, but for now, she gets me where I need to go.”

Bertha survived the drive to the small diner that Devon and Luke agreed on, albeit the radio cut out a few times. It was a new place and Luke had been wanting to try it. A part of Devon wondered if he really wanted to try it or if he just didn’t want to take her to one of the places that they frequented when they were together. Frankly, she wouldn’t have wanted to go to one of their old spots either. It would have felt too odd.

Once inside and seated, a waitress came to take coffee orders before scurrying away.

“Tell me about grad school,” Luke began, saving the more serious topics of conversation for later. It was best to start off casual and simply catch up on everything that had happened in the past year.

“It’s alright,” Devon sighed. She would have fibbed, but she felt no need to lie to Luke. “My classes are great. I’ve learned so much and my professors are awesome. It’s just…”

She trailed off, unsure how to put her thoughts into words without sounding pathetic. She didn’t want Luke to judge her.

“What?” He pressed gently, eyebrows furrowed in concern.

“It’s the other students, I guess. Everyone at our school was so great, but the people there are just not so friendly. And most of the other grad students did undergrad there, so I couldn’t really fit my way into a friend group. And there’s just not as much to do in the city as there is here,” she explained, her hands occupying themselves with the napkin in her lap.

She locked eyes with Luke, waiting for his response. He could have used it against her. He could have guilt tripped her for leaving and then not being happy. But Luke would never do that and Devon knew it.

“Well that’s not good,” he mumbled sincerely. “I’m sorry, Dev.”

He truly did feel bad. Every day while Devon was gone, he thought about her. He hoped she was having a good day and that her education was going well. It pained him to think that she wasn’t having a great time.

“It’s okay. I mean, I’m there for my master’s, not to make friends.” The waitress came back with their drinks and took their lunch orders. “Anyways, tell me about your book! What happened with the publishers and everything?”

The fact that Devon’s grad school wasn’t everything that she had imagined was still bothering him but Luke went along, knowing she wouldn’t want to talk about it.

“I sent another draft to one of the ones that was interested before, a while after you left. He said he liked the majority of it but wanted a few different ones. It took me a while to figure out what he wanted, but eventually I got it,” he rambled. “I’m really happy with it.”

“I’m glad,” she replied, heart swelling with pride. “When does it come out?”

“Next week.”

Devon hummed in acknowledgement, already making a mental note to pick up a copy for herself.

“How about work?” She questioned after a sip of her cappuccino.

“You’ll never believe it,” Luke chuckled. “I got promoted to a manager position.”

“Really? It’s about time!”

Devon and Luke had a running joke about Luke’s job. He had been there the longest other than the owner, an old woman who still moved like a teenager. She always hung a promotion over his head, suggesting it but never following through. Luke knew she was planning on giving it to him eventually. It was just a matter of time until she actually did, and the two would always make jokes about it.

They made small talk until their food came, causing the duo to fall into silence. Meaningless conversation about the weather could only last so long until what really needed to be talked about came out.

Soup and sandwiches didn’t last long enough. Their plates were cleared and there was no point in stalling anymore.

“I think we fucked up.”

Luke’s statement was unsugarcoated. He couldn't say for sure how Devon felt, but every day throughout the past year, Luke felt like he was making a mistake. Everyone around them was shocked at the news of their breakup; if there were any college sweethearts that would actually last, it would be them. That certainly didn’t help Luke’s pain when everyone else knew it was a mistake too.

Devon felt tears burn the back of her eyes as she nodded softly. He was right. Perhaps it was best at the time, but they couldn’t do another year of being apart.

“I think we did.”

Her voice broke, taking a deep breath to calm herself down and not cry in the restaurant.

“Hey,” Luke cooed soothingly, noticing the tears and reaching across the table for her hand. As his hand encased hers, at that moment, everything felt like it was going to be okay. “Maybe we should go somewhere more private.”

Luke paid the check and made their way back to Bertha. The need for privacy left them with two options; Devon’s hotel room or the apartment.

“Maybe we could go to my hotel room,” Devon suggested. “That way we won’t bother Ashton.”

That was only part of the reason. Devon wasn’t sure how she would feel if she stepped into her old home in the current state of their relationship. All of the memories her and Luke had would come flooding back. The hotel room was a neutral place without connection to what once was.

Luke agreed and drove to the location he remembered from the night before. The elevator ride up to Devon’s room was heavily silent, hands brushing against each other but never interlocking. The sound of the door shutting behind them once in the room was thunderous, the sound signifying that there was absolutely nothing between them and the inevitable anymore.

They stood in the middle of the room for a moment, looking anywhere but each other. There was no good way to start the conversation. There was no easy way to talk about a painful breakup that led to a year apart, then being reunited.

Without the right words in mind, Devon threw herself at Luke. She wrapped her arms tight around his middle and buried her head into his chest. Luke returned the gesture, holding her as close as he could. The hug said more than what either of them could put into words.

It wasn’t until a few minutes that Devon finally found something to say.

“I can’t keep doing this, Lu,” she whispered shakily. “I can’t keep missing you like this.”

“This is all my fault, Dev. I was the one who didn’t think we could do it. Fuck, honey, I’m so sorry.”

Devon surely didn’t think it was his fault. He had every right to be upset that she was moving so far away, and he had every right to be scared of what the distance would do to their relationship. She felt the same way. They broke up to spare themselves the pain of long distance. It hadn’t taken long for them to realize that the pain of being broken up was much, much worse.

As much as she tried to push the thoughts away, Devon couldn’t help thinking about how if she hadn’t left, this wouldn’t have happened. She knew that she did nothing wrong and that her education was just as important, but she had never intended to pursue it in expense of her relationship.

“This isn’t your fault. It was both of us. We were just saving ourselves from the pain. Besides, I was the one that left-”

“No,” Luke cut her off, glancing down at her. “Don’t you dare blame yourself for this. You did absolutely nothing wrong.”

Devon lifted her head up to meet his gaze. His face was serious but his eyes were completely sincere. She had always feared that he would hold a grudge against her for leaving. One look into the gorgeous blue eyes that she fell in love with told her that he didn’t.

“I never want you to blame this on you going to grad school. I want you to know that I completely support your decision and all your aspirations, honey. I will never hold that against you.”

Tears brimmed Devon’s eyes again, but these weren’t tears of pain. They were of love and adoration. Luke was the most amazing man she had ever known. He had a heart of gold and was one hell of a poet. She had never felt so loved as she felt by him.

“Please tell me this isn’t over, Luke,” she whispered, hands moving to cup his bearded cheeks. A single tear slipped down the soft skin of Devon’s cheek. “I love you. I never stopped. Please tell me there can be an us again.”

Luke wasn’t sure when he started crying, but a sudden wetness on his cheek alerted him of the act. His hands tugged Devon’s waist to bring her closer, noses brushing touching and breath mingling. They could hardly remember the last time they had been that close, the last time they felt love so intensely.

“I’ve wanted us back since that day a year ago. I love you more than anything, Devon. Always have, always will.”

For the first time in over a year, Luke and Devon’s lips connected in a kiss. It was nothing short of passionate and heavy. The love they hadn’t been able to express for so long was rising to the surface, coming out in the form of mumbled words, bruising kisses and desperate touches.

Frantic fingers worked the buttons of Devon’s flannel, slowly pushing her backwards until the back of her knees hit the edge of the bed. The offending item was discarded to the floor and the newly reunited couple crawled onto the bed. Devon shivered under Luke, a reaction caused by a mixture of the cool sheets against her bare back and his lips on her neck, his beard providing a new sensation that she hadn’t felt before.

The past year was difficult. If they could go back in time and fix it, they would jump on the opportunity without a second thought. But just maybe, it made them stronger. Maybe they needed to begin to wilt in order for them to bloom.

…

“What do we do now?”

Devon curled closer to Luke as a crisp breeze cut through the darkening evening. He sighed and wrapped the blanket tighter around them.

“I’m not sure.”

The couple sat in the trunk of Luke’s car with the door popped open, parked at a lookout point that overlooked the city. It was something they used to do all the time in college. It was comforting to return to their old traditions, knowing that they had fixed what they broke.

It was Sunday evening, the day before Devon flew back to her grad school city. They may have gotten back together, but they were still faced with the same problem as when they broke up. Devon still had a whole year of grad school left, miles away.

“I’m not sure I want to go back,” Devon admitted, eyes fixed on the city lights. Luke snapped his head to look at her, eyebrows furrowed.

“What do you mean? Are you saying you don’t want to finish your degree?”

Luke would never forgive himself if she gave up her master’s degree because of him. He didn’t want the distance either, but he could never hold her back from her dreams.

“No, no, I want to finish. I just...I wasn’t happy in that city. This is my home. I’m happy here,” she explained. She tore her eyes away from the view in favor of looking at her boyfriend. “With you.”

Luke dipped his head down, pressing a kiss to her temple. Devon leaned into the affection that she had missed so much.

“It’s up to you, honey. I don’t want to hold you back. Just know that if you do stay there, I’m going to really try this time. I promise we’ll make it work, and I’ll be here for you no matter what.”

Devon grinned at his words. She didn’t realize how much she needed to hear that; that the past wouldn’t repeat itself. However, she didn’t want to put either of them through the suffering of a long distance relationship when she didn’t even want to be away.

“I appreciate that, bubs. But I just can’t do that to us after everything we’ve been through.” She thought for a moment, trying to decipher the best course of action. “Maybe I could finish online.”

Luke nodded in acknowledgement; it was a good compromise. Devon got to finish her degree at the school with the best program, and she didn’t have to be so far away. It benefitted Luke as well, not just her. However, he didn’t want to sway her either way.

“If that’s what you want, honey. This is your decision.”

He gave her shoulders a squeeze as she thought it over. The only sounds to be heard were the gentle hum of the city below them and the cold breeze that ruffled the trees. It was so familiar. They had spent countless nights like this, simply enjoying each other’s company and rewinding from hectic college life. Luke had to remind himself that they weren’t undergraduate students anymore; Devon was in grad school and he was a published poet.

It was baffling how everything felt like it had gone back to the way it was, yet things were actually so very different.

“That’s what I want,” Devon announced with confidence after a few moments of pondering. “I want to stay here.”

Matching lovesick grins spread across their faces as they locked eyes. She scooted closer to Luke, if that was even possible, nudging her nose against his.

“You’re sure?” He verified, eyes fluttering closed.

“So very sure.”

He chuckled lowly before closing the gap. The air between them was finally clear. Their relationship was fixed and they would still be together. No more pain and suffering.

Devon rested her head on Luke’s shoulder when the kiss broke, breathing out a content sigh. They enjoyed the silence for a moment before Devon piped up with a question.

“Can I move back into the apartment?”

“Of course you can,” Luke chuckled. “That’s our place. Why couldn’t you?”

“What about Ashton?”

“He understands our situation, babe. He saw this coming. He already asked Calum and Michael if he could take the extra bedroom at their flat if it came to this, and they agreed. As long as you’re fine with living with him for a little while until he moves out, then he’s fine with it too.”

Devon let out a breathy laugh, nodding in understanding.

“I mean, I’ll still have to go back to my apartment out there for a bit to get my stuff.” She looked up at Luke with a hopeful glint in her eye. “Do you think you could come with and help? It’s alright if you can’t.”

“I can come, honey. I’ll see if I can fly out with you tomorrow, but if not I can come a couple days later, so you don’t have to change yours.” A smirk spread across his face before continuing. “Or we could just wait to go together and stay here for another few days. You know, catch up a little more.”

Devon laughed and playfully rolled her eyes, nudging his shoulder.

“What a way with words you have, Hemmings. No wonder you’re a poet.”

“Speaking of poetry, I have something for you.”

Luke pressed a swift kiss to Devon’s cheek before hopping out of the trunk. He opened the door to the back seat and rifled around for a moment, then returning to face Devon. He removed his hand from behind his back, holding it out to her.

“For you.”

Devon took the item from his hand curiously. It only took a moment for her to realize what it was.

It was a book titled The Life of a Flower. The cover was a stunning photo of two orchids side by side, and Luke’s name was printed across the bottom.

His first poetry book.

“You’re the first person to get a copy,” he mumbled sheepishly, breaking Devon from her trance of staring at it. She couldn’t help the tears of pride that welled in her eyes. If seeing the actual, physical book in person was such an emotional moment for her, she couldn’t even imagine how Luke must have felt when he saw it for the first time.

“This is incredible, Luke,” she whispered, smiling despite her tears. “I’m so proud of you, bubs, so fucking proud.”

Devon dropped the blanket from her shoulders and hopped down from the trunk. Her arms found their way around his neck while his found her waist. Pride was an understatement. She had been there every step of the way, and seeing his dreams finally come to life was a wonderful sight to see.

“Thank you, Devon,” Luke whispered into her hair. “For being my biggest supporter. I wouldn’t be here without you.”

“It’s not me, Lu,” she mumbled in response, tilting her head up to look at him. “You have a gift. Your writing got you here, not me.”

“I would have given up on writing a long time ago if I didn’t have you. You give me an endless amount of inspiration that I never had before. A poet’s words are meaningless if his muse isn’t worth writing about.”

“Damn. William Shakespeare has nothing on you,” she joked although she was absolutely melting on the inside. Luke groaned playfully.

“You always ruin the moment. Anyway, look at the first pages.”

Devon removed her arms from his neck to flip through, skipping past the title page, copyright and table of contents until she found what he was talking about. She found a dedications page that only made her tear up again, reading:

“For Devon. You’ll always be my orchid.”

[sparrowmoore-archive]

jesus you’ve got better lips than judas ; i could keep your bed warm , otherwise i’m useless .

                 𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐋 𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐊 𝟎𝟎𝟐 : 𝐒𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐖 𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐑𝐄 .

ORIGINS & FAMILY:

Full Name: Sparrow Nicolette Moore

Reason for name: Like Josiah, their mother chose their names -- ‘Sparrow’ is the symbol of freedom and direction which is what they always hoped for, a biblical symbolism of the worth of God. ‘Nicolette’ meaning people of victory. 

Nickname(s): Bird (Marcos), various profanities by Josiah. 

Date of Birth: May 2nd, 1995

Age: 26

Gender + Pronouns: Non-binary + They/Them

Place of birth: Roswell, New Mexico

Parents: Oliver moore & Laurel moore ( née abrams )

Siblings: Josiah Moore, Jade Moore, Rowan Moore & Wyatt Moore. 

Relationship with family: There’s a bitterness towards Sparrow’s siblings that’s perhaps unfounded. They hate that success never found them when it graced some of the others, sickeningly jealous that they were forced back to Roswell against their will. Despite this, Sparrow is closest with their twin brother Josiah and their older sister Jade, with the other two brothers currently in the bad books for ever leaving. 

Pets: None

PHYSICAL:

Height: 5′7″

Build: Slim

Nationality: American

Ethnicity: White

Distinguishing Facial Features: Large, round brown eyes + sharp jawline. 

Hair Color: Bleached blonde + tinted pink. 

Usual Hair Style: Either natural or scraped back into a messy bun; nothing fancy. 

Eye Color: Brown

Complexion: Deathly pale, Sparrow doesn’t enjoy the outside. 

Disabilities: None

What do they consider their best feature?: Their hair; it’s their pride and joy, even if most of the time it resembles scraggly strands of straw. 

Worst they’ve ever been injured: Grazed by a bullet against their right arm running from the gunfight that nearly killed their boyfriend. There’s still a slight scar, but they’d never admit it.

APPEARANCE:

Favorite outfit: Oversized plaid shirt, cropped shorts, fishnet stockings + Doc Marten boots.

Glasses? Contacts?: n/a.

Personal Hygiene: Sparrow showers whenever they can wrestle the bathroom from one of the other Moore’s. 

Jewelry? Tattoos? Piercings?: Multiple ear piercings, nostril piercing. A scattering of tattoos, mostly across their hands, dealt to themselves with a sewing needle and Indian ink. 

What does their voice sound like?: Deep, monotone. 

Style of speech (loud, mumbler, articulate, etc.): Sparrow’s volume is marginally below a shout, loud and articulate, unwavering. 

Accent?: Southern, born from New Mexico and intensified through years in Texas.

Unique mannerisms/physical habits: Sparrow bites their nails incessantly, which is a nasty habit ( although it’s one they’d never dare break ) .

Left handed or right?: Left handed.

Do they work out/exercise?: Not at all. They’d be seen dead before they were seen in workout gear.

BELIEFS & INTELLECT:

Known Languages: English

Zodiac: Taurus

Gifts/talents: Sparrow has a talent for coming up with the rudest, most obscure insults and pet names. They are also an amazing shot when it comes to firearms.

Religious stance: Raised in a religious Jewish/Catholic household; practices neither. 

Political stance: Apathetic. 

Pet peeves: Can I say everything? Sparrow has a very low tolerance for bullshit. 

Optimist or pessimist: Pessimist

Extrovert or introvert: Introvert

INTIMACY & RELATIONSHPS:

Relationship status: It’s complicated

Sexual orientation: Bisexual

Ideal mate/qualities they look for in mate: A protector, someone to keep them safe from the harm of the world. They like to feel like somebody has their back. Physically, they are attracted to the tall, dark and handsome type.

Ever been in love?: Once, and never again. They’ve sworn off love.

What’s their love language?: Sparrow isn’t sure. The only love they ever experienced was the toxic kind. 

Most important person in their life?: Josiah Moore.

VOCATION:

Level of education: High School Diploma ( barely ) .

Profession: Radio Host at Rocket.FM

Past occupations: Waiter at Pizza Planet, Gang Member. 

Dream occupation: Author or an artist; anything creative. 

Passions: Nineties music, writing lyrics, their family, grunge fashion.

Attitude towards current job: Sparrow loves their job, although they wish it could sustain them enough to move out and get their own trailer or, in an ideal world, a real apartment, even if it was in Greystone of all places. 

Spender or Saver? Why?: Spender. Sparrow still isn’t used to not having unlimited funds, and is used to blowing hundreds on new clothes, booze and whatever the hell they want. It’s been quite a steep learning curve, but they’re slowly adjusting. 

Which is more important – money or doing something they love?: Something they love, every time. 

SECRETS:

Phobias: N/A

Life goals: To own a house, with windows and a white picket fence ( and maybe to have somebody to share that with ) . 

Greatest fears: Losing someone they love, anything happening to their siblings. 

Most embarrassing thing ever to happen to him/her: In Kindergarten Josiah pulled down their pants in front of the entire class so all the kids saw their bare butt. Sparrow vowed never to be that humiliated again. 

Something they’ve never told anyone: They wished it was them that was hurt back in Texas, as that would mean they wouldn’t have to come home. 

Biggest regret: Abandoning Marcos. 

Police/Criminal/Legal record: Messy, but they’re across state lines now and hopefully remain anonymous. There are a few petty charges of vandalism, trespassing and being drunk and disorderly, but they were never charged with anything severe. That doesn’t mean they weren’t guilty of it.

Vices: Smoking - Sparrow has a rather nasty nicotine addiction. 

PREFERENCES:

Hobbies: Street art, listening to nineties music, dying their hair. 

Favorite color: Pink

Favorite smell: Wet paint, gasoline, burning. 

Favorite food: Breakfast burritos

Favorite book: The Bell Jar - Sylvia Plath

Favorite movie: Pulp Fiction

Favorite song: Smells Like Teen Spirit - Nirvana

Coffee or tea?: Coffee

Favorite type of weather: Grey, overcast, bleak - just like their personality really. 

Most prized possession: A sweater which belonged to Marcos, which still holds a hint of his cologne. 

Most used word or phrase?: Fuck

[itsclydebitches]

Godddddd I'm so upset that I dislike yen this much, doing main quests in skellige and Freyas ppl were doing stuff and she again disrespected other cultures with Geraly being against, "I may be inhumanly beautiful" I know she's meant to be confident but wowww. She's not confident and worried for Ciri she just comes off arrogant and selfish and vain. Like, fuck.

The ultimate mood, anon. My Witcher fandom life would be so much easier if I enjoyed Yen ... but I just do not lol. Remember how I mentioned that things were going to get even worse than her stealing and using a potentially dangerous artifact? Yeeeaah. She also resurrects Ciri's friend to torture him for information, all while destroying another sacred garden to get the power to do it! It's not even a "She's so evil and I love it 😏" situation for me because the game tries so hard to convince us that she's still The Best. Geralt's sexy soulmate, Ciri's adoring mother, the baddest bitch around who gets things done and does it with an effortless confidence... all while ignoring how horrific her actions and attitude are. Oh sure, other characters speak ill of her at times, but considering how much Geralt is written to adore her, no matter what you choose, that's all undermined. I love morally gray/evil characters, but I've never enjoyed them when the text refuses to appropriately acknowledge that side of them. Nothing is more frustrating to me than a story that frames disliking a character as the unambiguously wrong thing to do, especially when the text is piling up reasons to dislike them and, as a result, ignoring or shrugging them off their actions as not that bad. Yen is a rather extreme example of that for me. Despite her attitude, her choices, and other characters outright going, "Why do you like her?" the story as a whole works under the assumption that it's correct to like her anyway because Geralt loves her. And he loves her for... reasons.

They do meet before the wish, but only just. Major "The Last Wish" spoilers in this paragraph, so feel free to skip. Basically, Geralt and Dandelion run into trouble with a djinn, he goes to Yen for help since she's a sorceress (first time meeting her), he instantly falls for her because she's gorgeous and such (there's an elf there who is also madly in love with Yen. Men just... fall for her, instinctually), she heals Dandelion, Geralt agrees to pay her, but Yen has already decided on the payment she wants. She takes control of Geralt's mind and forces him to attack the town to seek revenge on those who have insulted her, resulting in him waking up in prison awaiting execution for "his" crimes. Meanwhile, Yen has gone after the djinn for herself because power/trying to regain her ability to have a kid. Geralt escapes, finds her failing to master the djinn (an attempt which btw has endangered the whole town) and despite what she's done to him, Geralt tries to get Yen to escape with him. She refuses, set on capturing the djinn even though it's obvious she can't. So as a last resort he uses the final wish to bind their fates together, saving Yen from the djinn in the process. Aaaaaand then they have sex.

So yeah, their rocky relationship is one of the main reasons why I can't enjoy Yen. For some their tumultuous history is evidence of realism, for me it's evidence that they're not actually very compatible and they're only together because a) that's the fantasy trope: protagonist men get together with the hot sorceress and b) because the magic is literally ensuring that they can't escape one another. I mean, canonically their fates are tied together by magic and canonically they spend about 20 years swinging between passionate love and fearsome fights... but there's supposedly no connection between these two things? No chance at all that they keep coming together because magic is drawing them rather than because they actually want/should be together? I wrote a meta a while back about the short story where they meet, which includes a present day scene where Geralt is criticized by another character — Nenneke — for running out on Yen. Thing is, he tries to explain that he left because she was "too possessive" and this is... flat out ignored. By both Nenneke and the fandom. There's a strong trend of ignoring Geralt's words in favor of a pro-Yen interpretation of events. He says he left because she was too possessive and she treated him like ____ — he's not allowed to finish the sentence and say what she treated him like because Nenneke interrupts him, saying she doesn't care about his version of events. Major yikes imo! She turns a claim of being possessive into Geralt not being man enough to stick around. The fandom likewise turns this into a case of Geralt getting cold feet and running out because he's a bastard who hates commitment. Likewise, Nenneke and the fandom claim Geralt is trying to get Yen money as a way of appeasing his guilt for leaving, he claims he's doing it simply because he still cares for her — even if he doesn't want to be with her — and knows she needs it. Geralt's words are frequently dismissed, in the same way others characters' opinions of Yen are dismissed. Any mark against her is treated as either a lie, or a convoluted claim that they don't really know her... never mind that an understanding of why she may act this way doesn't excuse the behavior itself. (Plus, the whole "Yen had a horrible upbringing, so of course she struggles being kind" perspective always fell flat to me when so many, including witchers, had horrendous upbringings too. The whole point is this world is a mess and most everyone suffers). It's supposedly true love, yet if someone came up to me and went, "I magically tied my fate to this woman to keep her from getting herself killed and we've spent the last couple decades having what many would term a rocky relationship, to put it kindly. I left once because she was too controlling. She once cheated on me. I likewise hooked up with others during our frequent breakups. A mutual friend used magic to get me to have sex with her — also while my lover and I were broken up — and though I view it as a dumb decision I'm happy to forgive her for, my lover is ready to commit murder because again: possessive. A lot of the time we're only a family because of our daughter. I once thought she'd horrifically betrayed us both. She didn't, but it says something that I was so ready to believe it, huh? Hmm? Permanently separated? Of course not! I love her. We're destined to be together after all :)" I'd be like, "Uh... you sure about that, dude?"

Not that Geralt doesn't make his fair share of mistakes in the relationship — he absolutely does — but I don't think it helps his case that he's immature in other ways and, frankly, that he's a very strong, badass witcher. It's easy to turn the hints we get about their relationship into a simplistic "emotionally naive man can't give the poor woman the commitment she wants" situation. Given Geralt's status as the badass fighter of the tale, it's likewise easy to dismiss his admissions of her being "possessive" and his general discomfort. He's the man. He's the witcher. If he's making any claims about how Yen isn't treating him well, they must be excuses, or exaggerations, because real men, especially physically powerful men, would do something about that — a something that's not sneaking out in the middle of the night. A lot of people read Geralt leaving as the ultimate proof that he's an immature bastard who doesn't deserve her. I read him leaving and think, "What were you trying to get away from? What was going on that made you think you could only leave by sneaking out without a word?" To me, that doesn't read as someone who felt safe, comfortable, and respected enough to do anything but slip away and try to wash his hands of things. And I'm not just pulling this "Geralt is at least somewhat afraid of Yen and isn't comfortable establishing boundaries with her" reading out of my ass. When Yen wants Geralt to kill the golden dragon for her and he refuses, saying he doesn't care anymore, his thoughts are:

He expected the worst: a cascade of flames, flashes of lightning, blows raining down on his face, insults and curses. There was nothing. He saw, with astonishment, only the subtle trembling of her lips. Yennefer turned around slowly. Geralt regretted his words.

And everyone is like, "See! Yen has improved so much. Geralt nearly made her cry, but she's supposed to be the bad guy here?" Meanwhile, I'm going, "Uh... anyone want to unpack why he expects fire, lightning, insults, curses, and blows to his face for telling her no? Why he's astonished that she wouldn't use her magic against him? Anyone think that Yen refraining from attacking Geralt when he refuses to murder on her command is a pretty low bar? No? Just me?"

Geralt and Yen's relationship makes me uncomfortable and a great deal of that discomfort derives from how much of the Witcher fandom shrugs off the fictional warning signs. I mean, I post primarily about RWBY. We watched a man in that show try to sneak away with his kids when his villainous wife planned to use them for a eugenics plan... and the fandom still blames him for that, refusing to admit that he was in an abusive relationship. Because that doesn't happen to men, right? I'm not saying it's the same for Geralt and Yen, simply because they are written to be soulmates. An abusive relationship was, quite obviously, never the authorial intent. However, I am saying that the a "This isn't a healthy relationship" reading is there, it exists as an interpretation, and both the story and fandom's tendency to dismiss it is something that hasn't helped me enjoy Yen's status as an otherwise well written, complex character. Their equality supposedly stems in part because they're both so flawed, yet each time I see a list of Geralt's supposedly equal faults they're... lacking imo. "Geralt bound himself to Yen without her consent." Yeah, to save her from dying from the djinn she was trying to enslave, after she refused to leave, while her actions threatened a whole town. "Geralt ran off without a word." Mmm hmm, anyone care about why? And my personal favorite is a scene you may not have gotten to yet (or may not get depending on your choices), but suffice to say, Yen is supposedly justified in physically attacking Geralt if he dares to challenge her in any way. That's the main takeaway across the fandom: If Yen is pissed off, you must have done something to deserve it which, in the relationship deliberately written to be "stormy," is something that sets all the alarm bells in my head off. Honestly, it kinda makes my skin crawl to go, "Geralt didn't deserve that" and get responses back of, "Yeah he did because he [insert basic human action here]." The Witcher world is hard and cruel, absolutely, but that doesn't mean I personally enjoy seeing an equally messed up relationship presented as something that's enviable in its flaws. "That's actually true love because the magically bound man who often expresses discomfort with his lover, written by a male author with a very iffy perspective on women, says it's true love." Crazy theory here, but... maybe it's not?

Idk, lots of rambling on my end tonight! For me, Geralt/Yen reads as something rather tragic which, in a canon that unironically upholds the relationship, and in a Yen-adoring fandom, doesn't make enjoying her character any easier. I keep coming back to Witcher 3, the comics, the show, even the books going, "Maybe I'll like her this time?" but nope, still trying lol.

[genesis-gaia786]

We’re All Strangers

Pairing: Iwaizumi Hajime x Reader; Oikawa Tooru x Reader {One sided} Genre: Fluff; Angst; Smut; Happy Ending TW: There will be some dark themes like bullying, self-harm and dark thoughts in general.

College life was so similar to high school and don’t let them tell you otherwise. You still had the preppies, you still had the jocks, you still had the drama club students, you had more than enough art students and not to mention the high achievers. And then there was Oikawa Tooru, breezing in like he owned place, such was the norm. People would part like the Red sea when they saw him, girls would flock in troves behind him, anything to catch his attention. But he had his eyes on only one girl. He had seen her in passing, instantly swayed by her presence and it was in that instant that Oikawa had no way of actually speaking to her, his words dying on the tip of his tongue. Something about her robbed him of air every time she passed him by, those soft locks of hair brushing past and leaving the lingering sent of her shampoo in the air, he could only follow like a puppy. But she would never look at him, not once and it saddened him that even with his good looks, she would never spare him a glance. He could never work up the courage to really ask her out, he would be shaking in his boots anytime he really thought about it, his friends encouraged him but the fear still remained, he didn’t want to be rejected by someone like you, someone who deemed perfect in his eyes. But he could only avoid it for so long, his feelings growing stronger with each passing day and he could barely concentrate in his lectures, his mind lingering on the thought of you. It was constant driving him mad, he needed to let you know. “I dare you to do it Oikawa, you haven’t had the balls to do ever since you saw her.” Miyamura laughed, patting the brunette on the back in jest, but his eyes were focused on her, sitting across the patio with her nose buried in a book, her glasses balanced on the bridge of her nose as she flicked through the pages without once looking up. “I bet she’s a hot piece of ass without those glasses, if she actually put a little more effort into how she looked.” Yamazashi chortled and Oikawa promptly glared at them. He wondered how he even ended up with friends like this. “I’ll do it, I’m asking her out.” He declared, balling up his fists as he stood to his feet, marching over to the girl with determined steps despite the quiver of fear at the base of his spine, his friends cheering him on. He stood before her, he swallowed hard which caught her attention and she looked up. Her eyes were shallow, almost uninterested and bored with his presence, it made him want to run but he needed to let her know. “[Last Name] I just wanted to tell you…” He trailed off, looking at anything as long as it wasn’t her face, his cheeks turning pinker than cherry blossoms. “Tell me what.” She stated, she was curt and to the point, she had no time for him from just her words alone but he was hoping that his confession would at least sway her, even just a little bit. He finally looked up, honey eyes locking with her stunning [Eye Color] ones, the color drained from his face when he realized that she was glaring at him, the daggers in her darkened eyes shimmering in cold fury. He took a step back, taken aback by the hostility and he realized very quickly that this was a very bad idea, but he couldn’t fathom why she was angry, why would she tell him no. But her rejection was nothing he could have predicted even with the countless amounts of daydreaming he did. “I wanted to ask you out.” He stammered. She snorted and grinned cruelly. “Why the fuck would I do that?”

 ***  

 “She said that?” “Man that was cold.”

Oikawa sighed in annoyance, Yamazashi and Miyamura were no help at all in lifting his sour mood, and actually they were no help to begin with. After being rejected by his crush, Oikawa had dashed to the men’s bathroom, his cheeks red in humiliation and lips in a full pout. He wasn’t necessarily sad anymore, but he was starting to seethe in his own rejection, who was she to turn him down? Who was she to make a fool out of him? Just who did she think she was? He was Oikawa Tooru, and he was not going down without a fight. “I see that look in your eyes Kawa~ what are you thinking?” Miyamura hummed, his dark eyes coming to life with mischief, he was ready to avenge his downfallen friend, or just cause mayhem in general for anyone being the sadist that he was. “I’m thinking that I make her my girlfriend.” Oikawa smiled his eyes dark in anger. “Make her your girlfriend? You’re going to force her?” Yamazashi questioned with wide eyes. It wasn’t settling well with him despite his choice words earlier, he understood that there was a limit, but peer pressure was a fickle thing. “Go for it! Show her that you don’t take no for answer! It’s called being passionate.” Miyamura encouraged, pushing Oikawa towards the door to watch the show unfold, he knew he was walking his friend into a lot of trouble but he lived for the pain of others, guilt wasn’t a word in his dictionary. His courage and motives being boosted by his friends, Oikawa went in search of her, a charming smile coming to his lips when he spotted her at the entrance of the college, phone in hand as she typed away and unaware of the danger that loomed not too far away, and quickly approaching. Her phone was snatched out of her hand, fingers grasping air as she quickly whirled around to find the thief, Oikawa holding the device out of arms reach with a cheeky grin. He quickly added his number while holding her back, her irritated growls amusing him. He handed her back the phone which she swiped back with speed, a death glare painting her sharp features. “What did you do to my phone?” She demanded, unlocking the piece of technology and quickly scanning through her apps and messages to find anything out of place. “I just added my number babe~ I’m going to pick you up at seven and I’m taking you to this amazing restaurant, then we’re going to take a trip back to my place for a little ‘us’ time.” Oikawa chuckled, a hand running through his hair as he shot her a suggestive wink. “I’m not going anywhere with you.” [Name] hissed, her hand reaching into her satchel to pull out her pepper spray, anything to deter him so that she could make a break for it. “Says who baby?” “Says me Trashykawa.” A hand landed on his shoulder, heavy and firm, turning him around with ease until he was staring into the eyes of one Iwaizumi Hajime, his olive gaze burning in contempt the longer he stared Oikawa down.

“Iwa-chan…” Oikawa whispered in disbelief, chocolate eyes blown wide in surprise at seeing an old friend. He looked between [Name] and Iwaizumi, the pieces slowly clicking until he was frowning at the reality he was facing. “You’re dating him? You could do so much better.” Oikawa gritted out, tearing Iwaizumi’s hand off his shoulder as he whirled around to glare heatedly at her. [Name] shook her head and took Iwaizumi’s hand in hers, linking their fingers as they prepared to leave.

“Hajime is my best friend, and you would never be a better option than him.” [Name] shrugged, her eyes cold as she started walking away, Iwaizumi ignoring him completely as he followed the girl.

Oikawa was left in a state of shock, anger and disbelief. He was shaking in rage, he needed closure from it all and from the pits of his mind did an idea spring forth, a sinister laugh leaving him as he stared at their retreating figures.

“I’ll make you pay [Name].”

[hubbytaeil]

1, 4, and 23 for hendery

Hendery + #1It’s too cold, come back!, #4 I think I’m in love with you and I’m terrified, #23 Can I kiss you?

a/n: i don’t know how to recover from writing this help, i think i got carried away im sorry lmao

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

It’s rather peculiar noticing that, no matter how much we think we know someone, surprisingly important elements always tend to hide themselves to the eye. One could compare such a thought with the unannounced downpour that occurred on that particular Friday night. “I swear, the forecast said there wasn’t going to be a single cloud in the sky!” declared with unparalleled confidence your friend Hendery.

 You released an inaudible swear under your breath, feeling your clothes getting wetter by the minute. You had planned no activity after dinner and you regretted not booking a table in some bar nearby. Being the weekend, there was not a single place that had enough space for other people. For a while you and Hendery just stood under some small porch, arguing whose fault was it this time. “I mean, you could’ve brought an umbrella, just in case, y/n.” I trusted you! You specifically said ‘Yo y/n, no rain tonight, how lucky are we?’.” Hendery shook his head in denial, even thought he knew exactly what he had told you on the phone. You put your arms around yourself, trying to find a way to ignore the shivers but it was no use. The more you thought about it, the clearer the solution was. “Hendery, put your arm around me.” You exclaimed with an emotionless expression, accompanied by the clicking of your teeth. Your friend stared at you incredulously for a good moment. “Excuse me, I don’t think I’ve heard you right.” He answered mockingly, scratching his ear. “You heard me. I’m not repeating myself.” You said as you impatiently tapped your foot on the slippery floor. Usually, at that point, Hendery would start making fun of you, he would ask you if you ‘had a crush on him, or something’ until the end of the evening. But he didn’t do anything of the ladder, instead he put his arm around you, almost like he had been waiting for you to ask him. The grip of his arm was tight around your shoulders, maybe a little too much. But you didn’t complain since you were finally feeling a little relief from small warmth he was providing you. There was something different in the silence that you were sharing; Hendery was a little tense and his eyes were shifting in every possible direction. You could read him like a book after years of friendship, it was only obvious to you that he was hiding something. And you knew exactly how to get it out of him. You just needed an important factor: the unexpected.

Out of the blue, you leaned in closer to him. “You know what we could do?” you whispered, making sweet eyes at him. He hated when you did that, this time it was no different, but for other reasons. “What?” he asked, faking annoyance unsuccessfully. You freed yourself from his grip and ran directly into the downpour. “No, y/n! You’ll come up with a fever!” shouted Hendery but you blatantly ignored his warnings, swaying your long skirt side to side in the rain. “It’s too cold, come back!” instead of using your words, you just ran back to him and grabbed him by the sleeve of his hoodie. “C’mon, I’ve always wanted to dance in the rain!” Hendery could not find the right words. There you were, your clothes completely drenched, your hair messy and your white shoes now turning into a shade of brown; but in his eyes, you were the most beautiful you’d ever looked. How could Hendery give voice to all the things he felt when he was with you if every time he tried, he would just get tongue tied and give up? He decided to stay silent once again, letting you guide him in the rain. You grabbed both his hands and began dancing to a non-existing rhythm, to which he tagged along slowly. You tried to remember the steps of a dance you’d seen in a period movie. “Are sure you remember it right?” questioned Hendery, seeing you struggling to find which way to turn, “Can you do better, sir?” you replied, bowing clumsily. He gave you a rather ambiguous look before he answered. “Follow me, miss.” Hendery took you in his embrace, his left hand on your lower back, the other guiding you. You’d never felt him so close to you, as you two swayed unevenly in what looked like the caricature of tango. Hendery made up for the music by making strange noises, resulting in you bursting into a rigorous laughter. “Don’t laugh! Dancing the tango is an art!” he exclaimed rolling the ‘r’ a little too hardly. Unconsciously, you hid your hysterical laughter in the crook of his neck, holding on to his back trying to catch a breath from all the fun that you were having. Hendery returned the embrace, making you forget for an instance that you were standing in the pouring rain. You shifted backwards to look directly at him, for no apparent reason. Instinctively, you began pushing his now soaking wet hair away from his face in the gentlest manner. Hendery immediately melted into your touch, tilting his head so that his face would fit perfectly into your palm. Something radiated in your chest and you couldn’t quite figure out what it was. But you were sure that Hendery’s fixed gaze on you was one of the reasons you were feeling that way. If only you had known the battle your friend was facing, seeing you in his arms and holding him tightly. Eventually, he caved in. “Y/n, I can’t take it any longer.” His words came out abruptly, as fast as a lightning, leaving you confused and a little scared. “What’s wrong?” you asked, dying to know what was troubling him. “Just tell me. If you say it, it’ll make you feel better.” Hendery thought otherwise, but he knew what he had to do. He took in a long deep breath, and then the lightning stroke again. “I think I’m in love with you and I’m terrified.” His confession was professed all in one breath, because that was the only way he could figure out how to say it. Hendery’s heart was about to jump out of his chest waiting for your reaction. He expected you to get angry, to shout at him, to walk away and never talk to him again. But, to his surprise, you held him even closer, almost leaving no space between you two. You asked how long he had been feeling this way. “It’s been months now. I thought it was just a momentary feeling, that it would’ve gone away easily. I didn’t want to put our friendship at stake so I just waited. But I can’t endure it, not anymore.” You looked at him attentively as he poured his feelings out, matching the rhythm of the rain that had kept on falling in the meantime. “We must be the dumbest people on the planet.” You uttered giving Hendery a smirk, leaving him in a bit of a shock. “What? Why?!” he quickly responded showing his confusion. Then you let your hand caress his hair once again. “Because I didn’t want to say anything either, for your same reasons.” Hendery thought he was dreaming, because the thought that you could possibly ever reciprocate his feelings had been strongly pushed away by his mind, fearing rejection like a child fears the darkness. “Y/n, if this is a joke, I swear…” “I’m not joking, Hendery.” You answered pouting your lips slightly, feeling rather upset that his first instinct was to not believe you. “I think I’m love with you too.” Saying those words out loud only remarked their truthfulness. The only thing that Hendery could do was to hug you, leaving you breathless. “We really are idiots.” He confirmed, chuckling in your ear.

 A few moments passed before you decided to go back under the porch, wondering why you hadn’t done that before. You hid in Hendery’s embrace once again, even though you weren’t feeling cold anymore as he rubbing your shoulders lovingly. “Since we’re both going to be sick tomorrow…” he inquired out of the blue. “Yes?” “Can I kiss you?” You smiled at his request and, for the second time that evening, you managed to leave Hendery speechless. You wasted no time before crashing your cold lips on to his, softly at first. The kiss rapidly evolved into the passionate exchange you both had craved for so long. Hendery held your hips firmly as he leaned back on one of the columns. Time seemed to have stopped, that little porch had become your own little oasis of love. You remained there for a while, taken by the bliss of the moment, letting your tongues dance with each other. Hendery started kissing your neck devotedly and only then you realised that it had stopped raining. “We should go.” You whispered in his ear before taking a step back. He agreed, but only decided to move after placing a couple of kisses on both your face and neck. As you walked back to the nearest bus station, you put your hand in his as if it were the most natural thing to do, maybe because it was.