#so floored and flattered by all the support on this story

[determunition]

very late to my own party lmao but i put out OLD_FOLKS HOME chapter 21 at the end of last month! in this one wiz tags along with poe and luke to a mysterious ebay pickup, and learns some deep poe carder lore along the way

to those of you who haven't read this one yet i hope you all enjoy! i had a lot of fun writing this one ^^

[allthelovehes]

The Author*

Summary: You just moved into your new apartment and your new neighbour turns out to be the author of the smutty book you're currently reading.

Pairing: Author/Neighbour!Harry x Reader

Word count: 2.8K

Warnings: Smut, basically strangers, it's cute tho.

Taglist: @justmystyles @bitchybabyharry @harrysslut7 @swiftmendeshoran @lucasandharold @harrysbabycherry @htaylor18 @rose-garden-dreamz @myalovesharry @mellamolayla @hsonlyangelxo @yousunshineyoutempter @heartateasee @blueheisenbergtragedy @bikestyles @bohemianrhapsody86 Let me know if you want to be added to my taglist! 🤗

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The first few weeks of living in your new apartment were, thankfully, relatively uneventful. You had managed to find a new job and keep your finances balanced, and the building you were in seemed to be relatively clean and well-maintained, and you'd never seen anyone who you thought would have a problem with you.

You travel back and forth between work by bus, not really feeling the need to have a car in the big city. Plus it gives you the perfect opportunity to read a good book, something you love but always slips in the cracks of your busy life.

It's the last day of work before your weekend, and you're on the bus home deep into a chapter of the book you're reading, everything is going perfectly fine. You're excited for the weekend as you still have a few boxes to unpack and some cleaning and organization that needs to get done.

You've been so into the book you're reading, that when you realize the bus just drove past your usual stop, you're shocked.

“Oh, shit.” You mutter under your breath as you try to think of what to do. You could just walk the few blocks back to your stop, the weather is fine anyway. You press the button, the bus comes to a halt at the next stop and you step off, thanking the driver for the ride. You begin walking, a tote on your shoulder and the book still in hand.

The streets aren't busy, it's not a particularly busy part of the city, and it's a beautiful afternoon. The sun is shining and there is a slight breeze, but not too much. You can hear the birds chirping and see the small kids playing in the nearby park, all in all a nice day.

You reach your building after a few minutes of walking, and the front door is unlocked and ajar, so you let yourself in and start to head towards the stairwell. When you reach the right floor, you spot your neighbour coming out of their apartment, the one you had seen the first night you'd arrived.

He was tall, much taller than you, and wearing a t-shirt that clung to his form nicely, and his sleeves were rolled up to reveal a collection of tattoos that ran all the way down to his hands. His hair was curly and looked incredibly soft and you wanted nothing more than to run your hands through it. His jaw was chiselled, sporting a stubble. He looked good, really good.

“Hey.” He says, his voice deep and smooth, and you can't help but notice the accent he has. “I haven't seen you around before, are you the new neighbour?”

“Yeah, I moved in a couple of weeks ago.” You reply. “My name is Y/N.”

“It's nice to meet you, Y/N. I'm Harry.” He extends a hand and you shake it. You notice the rings on his fingers, they're large, but not tacky, and they suit him. He looks at the book in your other hand and chuckles, “A reader, eh?”

“Yeah, I've always loved reading, and this one is really good, I've been wanting to finish it, so I'm glad I missed my stop, I was so deep into the story I hadn't even noticed.” You chuckle and it's then when Harry notices what book you have in hand, his book.

“Hey, wait a second. You're reading my book!” He points at the cover.

“Oh, you wrote this? Well, now I feel kinda embarrassed.” You say, laughing, trying to hide the embarrassment and your blushing cheeks. The story is based around quite a few explicit sex scenes, and you're hoping he won't bring it up.

“I'm just messing with ya. I'm actually quite flattered.” He chuckles.

You talk for a few more minutes and then go on your way. He is funny and kind, and his smile is one that you know you would kill to see. His eyes are bright, and you love the way his curls move when he laughs.

As you make your way to your apartment, you're smiling to yourself, thinking about how good-looking your new neighbour is. He seems kind and easy-going, and you wonder if you'll ever be able to spend more time with him.

When you get to your apartment, you drop your things, kick off your shoes and throw yourself onto your sofa. You sigh and close your eyes, taking a moment to process the day, and what just happened.

Knowing the man who came up with those incredible sex scenes was living right across the hall from you, is driving you absolutely wild. You're not sure why you're reacting the way you are, you have no business thinking about him like that. But he's just so fucking hot, and his accent, and his body, and the way his arms looked...

You feel your skin begin to heat up, and a tingling between your legs, and before you even realise, your hand is down the front of your jeans. You start touching yourself, and all you can think of is him, and the words he has written. Your breathing becomes heavier and you close your eyes, imagining him doing these things to you, his lips and hands exploring your body.

You're abruptly ripped from your fantasy by a knock on the door, and you jump and scramble to pull your hand from your pants.

“Fuck.” You hiss under your breath, and run your fingers through your hair, trying to get it to look presentable. You look through the peephole in the door and your eyes widen, there stands Harry, and he's holding a bottle of wine. You take a deep breath and open the door, trying to appear as composed as possible.

“Oh, hi.” You say, smiling, but you're nervous. “What can I do for you, Harry?”

“Hey, Y/N, I just came to drop off some wine.” He seems nervous. “I figured since you're new it'd be a nice thing to do.”

“That's very sweet of you, thank you.”

“Well, I hope you enjoy it.” He turns and starts to walk back to his own apartment.

“Harry, wait!” You shout, and he turns back to face you.

“Yes, love?” His British accent thick.

“Do you want to come in? I'll pour us some wine.”

“Yeah, that'd be lovely.” He follows you into the apartment. You take the wine from him and pour two glasses. You hand him the glass and sit down next to him, making sure to keep some distance between you.

You chat for a while, sipping your wine, and you find yourself enjoying his company. He tells you about his writing and how he's working on another book, and that he's glad that you've enjoyed the one he already published. You tell him about yourself, about how much you love to read, and he tells you he'll send you copies of the other books he has published.

The wine is flowing, and so is the conversation. Harry is really nice, and you find yourself wanting to spend more time with him. The bottle is empty and your cheeks are flushed, but not just from the alcohol.

“Well, I should probably head home.” Harry says, and the disappointment is evident on your face.

“No, don't leave yet.” You protest, and his eyes lock with yours. “I'm enjoying your company.”

“Well, alright. I can stay a bit longer.” He says, smiling.

You're not sure why, but you feel compelled to lean forward and kiss him. Maybe it's the wine, or the fact that he's just so fucking hot, or the stories and sex scenes in the book he had written. You're not sure, but something is driving you crazy, and you need him. Your lips crash against his, and it takes a moment for him to register what's happening. But when he kisses back, your heart flutters and your stomach feels like it's doing somersaults.

You pull away and stare at him for a moment, and he looks at you with a mixture of lust and surprise in his eyes.

“Sorry.” You mutter. “I shouldn't have-“

He cuts you off by leaning in and kissing you again, this time deeper, and more passionate. His tongue finds its way into your mouth and your tongues collide, tasting each other. He pulls away and stares into your eyes, his lips slightly swollen and a smirk on his face.

“You're a good kisser.” He whispers.

“So are you.” You reply, a smile spreading across your lips.

He leans back in, kissing you more roughly than before, his hand reaching up to cup your cheek. He begins trailing kisses down your neck and jawline, eliciting small whimpers and moans from you. He makes his way down your collarbones and chest, then moves back up to your ear.

“Y/N.” He whispers. “May I take this off?”

“Please.” You reply, almost begging. He grabs the bottom of your shirt and pulls it over your head, revealing the lacy bra underneath. He stares at your breasts for a moment, drinking them in, before he dives down and sucks at the exposed skin. He moves to your other breast and does the same, and his other hand begins to unbutton his own shirt.

He removes his shirt, revealing his tattoos, and you can't help but stare. He has a slim yet muscular frame, and his arms are toned and strong. You trace the ink on his chest and torso with your fingers, and he watches your reaction with a smirk.

He stands up and grabs your waist, picking you up and setting you on the kitchen island. He leans down and kisses you again, and you wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer. You can feel his erection through his jeans, and it's big, really big. You can't help but let out a moan at the thought of him fucking you with that monster.

He reaches around and unclasps your bra, pulling it off and exposing your breasts. He leans down and takes a nipple into his mouth, sucking and nibbling at it, while his hand plays with the other. You throw your head back and moan, grabbing at his curls and tugging slightly. He lets out a groan and grinds his hips against yours, and you can feel his cock harden even more.

“Harry.” You moan. “I want you.”

He removes his mouth from your breast and looks up at you, his eyes dark with lust.

“Are you sure, love?” He asks, his accent sending shivers down your spine.

“Yes, please.” You beg, and he smirks. You're so eager and it's making him impossibly harder. He undoes his belt and his pants fall to the floor. You stare at his cock hiding in his black boxers, and your mouth waters. It's long and thick, and you know that it's going to feel amazing. He pulls off his boxers, and his cock springs free, standing proudly.

He grabs your jeans and tugs them down, revealing the matching pair of lace panties. He groans as he looks at you, and his fingers hook under the fabric, pulling them down your legs.

“Fuck, Y/N, you're so fucking beautiful.” He breathes, taking in the sight of you. You're completely naked and exposed in front of him, and he can't help but marvel at how perfect you are. He leans in and kisses you, and you wrap your legs around him, pulling him close. He grinds his hips against yours, his cock rubbing against your wetness. He's teasing you, and it's driving you insane.

“Harry, please.” You whine, and he smirks.

“Please, what?” He teases, continuing his slow grinding.

“Please fuck me.”

He groans and searches for his wallet, finding a condom. He slides it on and lines his cock up with your entrance, pushing in slowly. He fills you up completely, and you cry out, arching your back. He lets you adjust to his size before he starts moving. He sets a slow and steady pace, and you're moaning and whimpering.

“Fuck, Harry.” You gasp. “You're so big.”

“You feel so fucking good, Y/N.” He groans. He thrusts his hips, his cock sliding in and out of you. You reach down and begin rubbing your clit, and the extra stimulation has you seeing stars. No wonder the smut in his books is good, the man himself knows exactly what he's doing.

His pace quickens and his breathing becomes laboured. He leans down and captures your lips in a searing kiss, swallowing the sounds that escape your mouth. He picks you up from the countertop and carries you over to the sofa, never breaking his rhythm. He lays you down and continues pounding into you, and you can feel the pressure building.

“Harry, I'm so close.” You moan, and he reaches down to rub your clit.

“Come for me, baby.” He growls, and that's all it takes for you to come undone. You scream his name and arch your back as the orgasm rips through you. He keeps his pace, thrusting harder and faster, prolonging your pleasure.

When you come down from your high, he pulls out and grabs your legs, flipping you onto your stomach. He positions himself behind you and pushes back in, causing you both to moan. His hands grip your hips and he begins pounding into you, and his grunts fill the room.

“Fuck, Y/N, you're so fucking tight.” He groans, his voice thick with lust.

“Oh, god, Harry.” You moan. The sound of skin slapping skin and the scent of sex fills the air. He reaches around and starts rubbing your clit, and the pleasure is almost too much for you to handle. He thrusts his hips, filling you completely.

“Come for me again, love.” He commands.

“Yes, Harry, fuck.” You cry out, your walls tightening around his cock. You know that anyone passing by your apartment would definitely hear the sounds of sex, but you don't care. The only thing that matters is the feeling of him inside you.

You come undone once more, and he fucks you through your orgasm. He moans, his thrusts becoming erratic. You turn him on so much, he never wants to stop fucking you. His cock slides out of you and he pulls you back up, turning you around to face him.

“I want you to ride me, love.” He growls, his voice deep and rough. You straddle him, your wetness coating his cock. He positions himself at your entrance and you slide down, moaning as he fills you again. You start moving, your hips rocking against his.

“Fuck, Y/N, you feel so good.” He moans, and his hands grip your hips, guiding you. Your pace quickens and you can feel yourself getting close again. You look at him and his eyes are filled with lust and desire, and it's the hottest thing you've ever seen.

Harry's lips crash into yours and his hands tangle in your hair. He breaks the kiss and his mouth moves to your neck, sucking and biting at the delicate skin. You let out a string of curses and he groans against your neck. He leaves a trail of kisses down to your chest, taking one of your nipples into his mouth. He nibbles and sucks on it, and his tongue swirls around it.

“Fuck, Harry.” You moan.

“Do you like that, love?” He asks, looking up at you with dark eyes.

“Yes, fuck, yes.” You reply, your voice wavering.

He continues his assault on your breasts, switching from one to the other. Your breathing is heavy and you can feel the pressure building again.

“Harry, I'm so close.” You breathe.

“Me too, baby. Come for me.” He growls, his fingers rubbing your clit. The combination of his cock filling you his mouth on your nipples and his fingers stroking your clit sends you over the edge, and you scream his name, your nails digging into his shoulders.

Your walls clench around his cock and he loses it, his thrusts become more erratic, and his breathing is laboured. He moans your name, and the sound is like music to your ears. He comes hard, and his cock pulses inside you.

You both collapse, breathing heavily. Your heart is racing and you can't believe what just happened. He wraps his arms around you and pulls you close, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head. You lie there in his arms, trying to catch your breath, the scent of sex and sweat filling the air.

“Fuck, Y/N.” Harry says, breaking the silence. “That was incredible.”

“Mhm, you're far better than your books.”

“Well, I'm glad you enjoyed it.” He chuckles. You snuggle into his arms, and he holds you tight. You've never felt so safe and secure in someone's arms, and you know that you're already falling for him.

[celtics534]

Little Moments That Pass Us By Chapter 8

First Night - July 1998

This chapter is the reason this lovely story is rated M, that’s my only warning ;)

Time for a little spice. I hope you all like it!

Also Read On: FF.net or AO3

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When Ginny pressed him back into the sofa cushion, Harry lost all conscious thought. He didn’t think about how he was at the Burrow, or how Ginny’s parents were just three floors above them. All that mattered was the way Ginny’s lips felt on his, how her legs straddled his lap, and how her fingers were knotted in his hair. 

  It was incredible how she felt. Everything about Ginny was fantastic. After everything he’d been through, Ginny had supported him. Been a shoulder to lean on. She was the only person Harry had felt comfortable talking to. Truly talk too. After the things he’d done over the previous year… the things he’s learned over the last few years… Ginny was his confidant. And he was hers. He’d held her close as she described the things she’d been forced to endure at the hands of the Carrows. She’d told him about her fears during the last three years, and he fears for the future. Harry wiped away her tears after she’d cried over Fred’s grave. 

  And all of that had led them to be here. They found emotional comfort in each other, but also found passion in each other's bodies. Since that first kiss after he’d fled her bedroom they’d reconnected. Sneaking outside to find quiet corners to be with each other. Snogging, talking, touching. 

  Over the last few months, they’d gotten up to more than they had at Hogwarts. Getting to see Ginny take off her bra again had been incredible, but then getting to slide his hand into her shorts and feel her heat… getting to help her reach her climax, his fingers being what set her over the edge… that had been one of the best moments of his life. That moment had been knocked from the pedestal when Ginny had gone down on him for the first time, which had been superseded when he had gone down on her five minutes later. 

  Typically, they were cautious about where they did things. Even with Ron and Hermione in Australia, the Burrow was a hub of people and the fear of getting caught by brothers or mothers was strong. But tonight, there was something that was making them throw caution to the wind. 

  Harry couldn’t put it into words. The moment Ginny had come to gently kiss him, he’d instantly needed more. He’d pulled her into his lap and deepened the kiss well past anything they’d done in the public sitting room. 

  “Harry,” Ginny moaned his name in one of the hottest whispers he’d ever heard. It was enough to pull him out of the drugged state Ginny’s kisses had sent him. Or maybe it was the way her fingers had gone under his shirt and were dipping lower. 

  And there was that insatiable need. Her hands on him, the feeling of her sucking lightly at his bottom lip… it made his normally cautious and polite attitude disappear. His hands came up to run along her sides, trailing until they found the hem of her shirt. It was up and over her head before Ginny could make a noise of surprise. Her bra clasp was undone a second later and Harry had lowered his head so he could kiss her hardening nipples.

  “Merlin, Harry,” Ginny whispered, a tone of surprise and what Harry thought was awe. It flattered and made his male pride roar in delight. “I knew you were good at that, but this could have gotten you into a world record book.”

  Harry chucked against her chest, loving the way she shivered and arched into his warm breath. “You know what they say when people have the right encouragement.”

  Now it was Ginny’s turn to laugh. “Oh really? And pray tell, what else might you be encouraged to do?”

  “I’m sure between the two of us we can come up with some great idea,” Harry said, pausing to kiss his way to her other breast. “But right now —”

  His sentence was cut off by the sound of creaking floorboards a story above them. They both froze. Ginny’s hands were tightly locked in Harry’s hair. Harry’s lips hovering just above her left nipple, his fingers halfway into the back of her shorts. They waited with bated breath, listening. Harry could feel his heart racing a mile a minute as he prayed her parents were simply visiting the loo and not coming down for a late-night cuppa.

  After the longest two minutes of his life, Harry heard the sound of the water running through the old pipes and then the sounds of the same floorboards creaking as the person wandered back the way they came. 

  “Bloody hell,” Ginny muttered, her shoulders falling as the tension seemed to ooze out her system. “That could have been bad.”

  For his part, Harry couldn’t relax. It was all hitting him at full force what they’d been doing and where.  “Merlin, Gin. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have — in the sitting room — I don’t know what I was —” 

  Ginny cut off his ramblings with a hot, hard kiss. Her fingers tightened in his hair as she kept him close to her. “Take me to bed, Potter.” 

  Everything in Harry’s system buzzed at those words. His blood started to heat and his already tight pants seemed to get worse. “What?” 

  “You heard me,” Ginny said, her eyes blazing like a fire. She got up from his lap, holding out a hand to help him off the sofa. “Take me to bed.”

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  Harry didn’t know what to do with his hands. Hell, he didn’t know what to do with any of his body parts. He just stood there like a statue after Ginny had shut her bedroom door behind them. 

  Their discarded shirts (and her bra) were bundled in his hands, and he just stood there holding them. He swore his body had gone numb as he watched Ginny (a topless Ginny) move around her room. He was only half aware of what she was doing, but he was fully aware of her (and her hard nipples). She’d locked the door, he was certain of that. The rest of her movement was lost on him as his brain started jumping from one thought to the next. 

  “Hey.” Ginny’s soft voice right in front of him made Harry’s vision come back into focus. She was standing right in front of him, her small hand resting lightly on his forearm. “About what happened downstairs —”

  Instantly Harry jumped to apologize. “I’m sorry I pushed so far. It wasn’t… I shouldn’t have done that… Right where anyone could…” He was rambling like a nervous child about to get scolded by the headmaster. Harry didn’t want Ginny to think that he’d ever take advantage of her, especially not in her parent's sitting room. “Gin, I would never —”

  Ginny’s index finger cut him off as she pressed it hard to his lips. “Harry, stop.” He pressed his lips together to keep his ramblings at bay. “Look at me, Harry.”

  He lifted his eyes to look into hers. He expected to see anger, maybe annoyance. At least disappointment at his foolish actions. Instead, all he saw was heat… desire. Her tongue came out to run along her bottom lip. 

  “Good, now just shut up and kiss me.” 

  He hesitated for at least five seconds. A solid five seconds where his mind and body were both too surprised to comprehend what she’d said. Then the bundle of clothing was landing on the floor with a soft thud, and his arms were around her waist.

  The moment his lips were on hers, Harry was lost. Lost in her. The feel of her. The taste of her. It was everything. 

  Her body pressed hard into his as her hands roamed from his back to his hips. It wasn’t until her fingers were at the button of his jeans that Harry’s mind started working again. He pulled away from her tantalizing mouth. His lungs filled with much-needed oxygen as he stared at her. “Gin?”

  She met his gaze with a determined look. “Harry.” Her fingers stayed on his button.

  Harry sucked in a deep breath, before swallowing hard. Her message was clear. Actions spoke louder than words and her actions were practically screaming. She was just waiting for his approval. She was making sure he was ready.  

  And fuck was he ever. 

  With speed that would impress a cheetah, Harry recaptured her lips. She moaned into his mouth as he opened his mouth to hers. He felt it when Ginny’s fingers resumed their quest. He nearly hissed as she pulled the zipper down. 

  “Okay?” Her words were muffled against his mouth. 

  “Fuck yes.” The hoarse whisper slipped out without a second thought. 

  Ginny's deep chuckle went straight to his dick. If he’d had any blood left in his head, it had just all completely moved south as had her fingers. Ginny’s small hands had completely removed him from his jeans and were making their way back to the waistband of his boxers.

  Harry’s eyes closed on their own accord. Fuck it all felt so incredible. They’d done this before, hell they’d done more than this before, but for some reason, it felt different tonight. It was… there was more.

  When her fingers wrapped around the head of his cock, Harry’s eyes shot open. Ginny was grinning at him. That grin alone turned him on just as much as her touch. She kept her movements slow at first, but when Harry’s hips jerked into her ministrations. 

  Harry gritted his teeth, trying to gain back some control. It felt so fucking amazing, but yet… Harry wanted more. He wanted her to be naked too. Hell, he wanted to be hovering over her, their bodies pressed tightly together.

  Without a second thought, he took her face into his hands and kissed her hard. Ginny gasped in surprise, her hand pausing and eventually falling away from his cock. With his hands still cupping her face, Harry took the first step toward the bed. Ginny easily fell into step, walking backward until the back of her legs bumped into the mattress. 

  She fell onto her back, bouncing a little before he crawled over her. Harry didn’t hesitate finding her lips again. His hands moved to slide along her sides, finding her sensitive nipples. Harry lowered his lips to her neck and sucked hard at the sensitive skin. Ginny let out a surprised gasp as her fingers dug into his back. He could feel her nails pressing hard into his skin. That was the tipping point. 

  Harry nipped at the pulse point pounding in her neck. “Ginny, I want — I want — ”

  “I want you to make love to me, Harry.”

  Ginny’s confident words came out steady, interrupting his garbled attempts to say the same thing. His head came away from the crook in her neck so he could look into her eyes. Her eyes were locked on his, and the bright fire in them set his skin aflame.

  He could see the certainty in her dark eyes. See it in the small smile curling her lips. So he leaned down to kiss her, letting her fingers curl into his hair as she pushed her tongue into her mouth. 

  Everything in his body thrummed with adrenaline and anticipation. He didn’t know what he was doing, other than he would let her lead him. Breaking their kiss, Harry started trailing his mouth down. Starting at her chin, neck, collar bone, the center of her chest, her left breast, and her right breast. Harry let her noises and reactions decide where he’d spend more time and when he’d continue down to his goal. He pressed a hot open mouthed kiss just above the button of her trousers before his fingers until the clasp and tugged down the zipper. 

  Ginny lifted herself from the mattress so he was able to slide her trousers and knickers completely off her body. Harry didn’t look away from Ginny long enough to know where he tossed her clothing. Her soft laughter reverberated around the small room. It was one of the best sounds in the world to Harry. He kissed her stomach again, loving the way her body squirmed as if being tickled. Then he went lower. Her soft moans thrilled him. She was hot and wet, so ready for him.  

  Harry teased her with his tongue, enjoying the way she sighed his name when he reached the spot she craved him. He added one finger. Then a second. He made sure to keep up her ministrations as she writhed under him. Not willing to stop for anything until she came. 

  “Fuck, Harry, right there. Don’t stop. That’s perfect, don’t —” Ginny’s words became garbled as her body became overwhelmed. Harry followed her instructions as she went over the edge, her cries loud in the late night. 

  When she fell back into the mattress, her breathing heavy, Harry moved back up her body. 

  “Holy shit,” Ginny muttered as Harry pressed a kiss to the underside of her jaw. “You truly are getting way too good at that.”

  He chuckled. “I had a good teacher.”

  She lifted a hand to tilt his chin so she could kiss him. “I’m just hoping my parents are truly asleep or they’ll know how good you are at that.”

  Harry could feel his cheeks heating. He lifted himself nearly completely off her. With a quick motion, he reached into his loosened jeans in search of his wand. “Fucking silencing charm.”

  Ginny laughed as he cast the spell. “We were a bit distracted to remember it.” She cleared her throat. “While you’re at it, can you cast the contraceptive charm?”

  His heart rate picked up as her request registered in his mind. He turned his attention back to her and saw determination and desire in her expression. Taking a deep breath, Harry turned his wand to himself, muttering the incantation under his breath. Ginny's lips curled into a satisfied smirk. 

  Her hand came up to curl around his neck, pulling him back down over her. Her lips brushed just under his ear as she whispered. “Take off your trousers, Harry.” Then she nipped at his earlobe, sending a shock wave of desire down his body.

  Without hesitation, Harry reached down to push his loose trousers down his legs. The cuffs got caught around his ankles, but he didn’t care how ridiculous he looked as he struggled to get them off. His boxers went to the floor much easier. 

  They were both completely bare. Harry hovered over her as she smiled at him. His heart pounded a brutal pace against his ribs but when Ginny pulled him back to her lips with pressure on his neck Harry forgot about everything but her. The way she brushed her tongue along his lips, how incredible her chest felt against his, and the heat that emanated between them. 

  Harry didn’t try to speak as he lowered a hand to guide himself into her. He kept his movements slow, giving her every chance to pull away or tell him no, but she didn’t. Instead, she lifted her hips from the mattress, making it easier for him. 

  The second he entered her, Harry nearly lost it. He’d thought she’d felt incredible before, but this… this was… he couldn’t think of words. Hell, he couldn’t think much at all. It took all his concentration to keep moving slowly. Harry was only slightly aware that his breathing had become heavy as he clenched his jaw in focus. 

  Ginny’s hand came up to cup his cheek. He looked into her face, needing to see she was okay, that he wasn’t hurting her. His chest tightened at the look of pure affection on her face. The soft smile gracing her lips was perfection. 

  Fuck, she was perfection. 

  He stopped when he felt resistance. Ginny, however, didn’t hesitate. Her hands came down to grip his ass, giving him a squeeze. “Don’t stop, Harry.” Her voice was an octave lower and was just as tempting as her body. Her body was so warm and soft under him. Merlin, it would take a stronger man than him to resist anything Ginny Weasley asked of him. 

  Pressing forward he cringed at the intake of breath that came from Ginny. He froze again. His mind and body were at war. Well, one particular part of his body to be precise, but Harry refused to let his dick be in charge. He held himself over her, letting her adjust. Harry pressed his face into her neck, breathing in the mixture of sweet flowers and sweat. His lips moved on their own accord, gently nipping at her skin as her breathing steadied. 

  “Move, Harry.”

  Her words sent a shiver down his spine, and again he instantly followed her orders. He moved slowly. Pulling back and pushing forward. Back and forward. The feeling was like nothing he’d ever experienced. It was taking all his willpower not to explode in the first few thrusts. But when she let out a satisfied groan his brain nearly shut off completely. He looked down into her blazing eyes and was gone. 

  He was lost in her, lost in the way her body gripped him. Harry managed one last thrust before it was over. He came down from his orgasm slowly, his senses returning to him one at a time. First was smell (sweat and her amazing flowery scent), touch (her fingers caressing his back), and finally sight (red hair and flushed skin). 

  Slowly he lifted his body above her, taking in her face. The smile curling her lips was so sweet it made his heart flutter. Her hand came up to cup his jaw. She lifted up to press a gentle kiss to his lips. As she lay back, Harry watched her sweet smile turn into a coy grin. “Well, Potter, I’m glad to see your stamina isn’t just for quidditch or catching bad guys.”

  He felt his brows lift high into his damp hair, his own lips curling to match hers. “What can I say, I live to please you, darling”

  Her little hum of satisfaction sent pride coursing throughout his body. “I’ll say.” When her head rested on his chest, Harry’s eyes closed in serenity. He was asleep before Ginny’s whispered words of love reached him. 

[yellow-berrys]

honey | sirius black x reader

summary: you and sirius black are pining over each other. the story of it.

navigation | masterlist 

SPINNING IN THE SWIRLS OF PEONY DRESSES AND SILK GOWNS, you revel as you dance. Not perfectly, but joyfully. The way you twirl is a little messy, whilst the punch hasn’t been spiked you still feel endlessly happy. You’re tossed from one person to another in a fast-paced rhythm, from the pretty Queen of Hufflepuff to a boy you’ve never seen before to James Potter to Lucius Malfoy. 

“Hi, Y/n!” Lily cries over the music, “Having fun?”

You grin, dizzying yourself under her arm. “Lots! How are you?”

“I’m amazing! This is wonderful!”

You don’t have time to reply before she’s swung away into a stranger’s arms and you look up with curiosity to see grey eyes grinning furiously at you. 

You return the smile, “Hey Sirius!”

He’s beautiful in this glossy gold lighting, light curving out his high cheekbones, lips curved a little in greeting. His eyes are a shade of warm grey in this room compared to their usual metal. But you can’t give yourself away, so you’ll look anywhere but his face, scolding yourself for being so obvious. After all, there’s a reason he didn’t ask you to the dance. 

“Hey,” he says, maybe a little out of breath. “Hey,” he repeats. 

You shake your head, feet tapping at the floor, “You OK?” 

“I’m fine!” He says loudly over the song, “Better than ever really,” is hidden by the loud beat of the music.

You feel satisfied in your dreamy dress with a lovely smile growing at your lips. You miss what he says next whilst wishing this would be forever.

“Pardon?” You ask.

“Huh?”

“You said something’s beautiful. My dress is rather nice, isn’t it?” 

“Gorgeous,” he flatters you and you chuckle. 

“Just pulling your leg. No need to sweet-talk me,” you smile up at him as you're transferred into the arms of a Ravenclaw. 

And he’s left blushing away, the girl who has replaced you thinking she’s the one who makes him flustered. You think she probably has, and wink at her. You turn to your partner.

“No date, L/n?” he sneers and you raise your eyebrows mid dance. 

“I don’t think that’s your business, Corey.”

“You look very pathetic,” he grins maliciously, “Dressing up just for no one to admire.”

“What about you, Corey? Who’s your date?”

“Heron Bridger.”

“You mean the same Heron who’s currently...snogging Severus? Gee, she’d really rather be with Snape than you!”

“Just you wait, I will...”

But he’s yanked by a stranger to their dance, and you meet eyes with Jane Pickett.

“Honestly,” she says, “I can’t even imagine dressing up.”

You’re silent. 

“I would come in converse and leggings if I could,” she drawls out, “I would still get asked out, unlike you,” she sneered. 

Your good mood was starting to fade. A girl from the girls, who were usually so supportive and comforting, was criticising you. It must’ve meant you actually had problems.

“That dress doesn’t even sit right on you.” 

And as the song ends just like the last strands of hope that maybe someone will call you gorgeous, you slip out of the Great Hall so subtly, your footsteps adjacent with the ringing of the 10 o’clock bells for bedtime.

Back in your dorm room, it’s quiet and empty. You climb into the shower and wash your hair and chuck your dress into the laundry, watching it spin. You pull on comfortable pyjamas and sigh, looking into the mirror. 

“I shouldn’t be overreacting,” you hiss to no one in particular, “Am I really that insecure?”

You settle down next to the fire crackling. The heat feels unbearable. 

“Heavens. I am pathetic.”

Suddenly; a voice. “Wonderful self affirmation practices you’ve got going on there, sweetheart. Can I come in?”

You let out a muffled noise of affirmation. Sirius saunters in. 

You don’t know whether his air of cologne and confidence will be any good for your poor heart, but when he grins at you with words of “Want a hug?” you want to sob all over again. 

You crawl into his lap, and he pulls his arms over you. He whispers sweet nothings into your ear as you cry. Things that make you laugh, too, because he knows how to cheer you up. 

“And Lily was about to take off her massive earrings to throw hands at Corey.”

“Really?”

“No. Those huge things cost money.”

You let out a wet giggle. 

“What did he say to you?”

“Just a load about how I had no one to admire me and so I was pathetic. And that no one wanted to ask me out.”

“That’s not true.”

You raised your eyebrows, “It is, Sirius, but it hurt.”

“It’s not true,” he affirms, “I can think of at least one guy who wanted to ask you out.”

“Well, they didn’t, that’s what matters,” you frown, “It’s okay, Sirius, I’m fine. I don’t need a man to admire me.”

“I know you don’t need a man, sweet thing, men need you.”

You snort. “Please, men evade me like bees to...not honey.”

He laughs and he sounds beautiful when he does it. It makes you hate yourself even more. Nothing you could ever do would be as pretty as him. As you look up to him and smile back, he looks a little out of his depth.

You didn’t know what comes over you, but you regret saying, “You’re beautiful, you know?”

“Oh?” his eyes widen and his cheeks tinge pink, “No one’s ever really told me that before.”

“Mm?”

“Yeah. They always say I’m hot or cute or handsome, but never beautiful.” 

“Well you deserve to be called beautiful.”

“Tell me more about it?”

You inch closer to him, reaching a hand out to brush his raven hair out of his eyes. 

“I like your hair. I like the way that your eyes go from grey to blue in sunlight and how they are so warm now.”

“Oh?” Sirius smirks at you now.

“Yeah, and I like how your nose slants so delicately. And your eyelashes are so long,” you run a finger over them and he closes his eyes.

“It sounds like you must like me a lot.” You ignore him.

“I like how you always are so sweet to everyone, including me. I like how your cold front melts into honey. Now someone’s told you it.”

He opens his mouth, then clamps it shut. “Sounds like someone has a little crush,” he finally says. 

“I don’t,” you smile. 

“Mm? Really?”

“You’re impossible.”

“And you’re ugly.”

“...”

“Thought we were just lying now.”

And now he’s got you all flustered, as you shake your head and get up, leaving the room with a soft “we’re done”. 

“This is your room!” he calls. 

“I know!” you yell back. 

---

Winter has passed and spring arrives to Hogwarts now, the snows fleeting away from sight and blue skies and sunny eyes replacing foggy weather. It’s a joy to behold, and the Black Lake shimmers with cerulean. 

Somehow the Marauders have convinced everyone else that a giant squid lives under the water, and that they are the only brave ones that might dare to swim with it. 

“Can we go down to the lake?” Lily asks as you both come out of a dreary Potions lesson, “Slughorn was dreadful.”

“Sure,” you smirk, “Let’s attribute the sudden need to go to the lake with Slughorn and not James Potter.”

She blushes, “For the last time, I don’t like Potter!”

“Let’s just skip the chance to see him shirtless, then, hey?” you nudge her and laugh, heading to the lake all the same. 

Remus lounges underneath a big shady tree, reading a book, as Sirius, James and Peter splash around carelessly. As James sees Lily, he gathers himself, walking out of the water very smoothly. Lily turns bright red and squeaks to you, “Maybe this wasn’t a good idea after all.”

You grin at her, opening up your Arithmancy Advanced homework booklet as you sit down on a bench with a pen, “Sure, sure.”

Sirius meets Remus’ eye, which turns towards you. He wades out of the water carefully. He realises he’s going to need to do more as you don’t even glance at him, choosing to be entirely absorbed in your homework. 

“Moony, what do I do?” he whispers and Remus shrugs, “I dunno, catch her attention?”

Sirius calls your voice softly and you turn your head to him, eyes still on the paper and scrawling away. 

“Can you help me with one of the questions?” Sirius asks as he dries himself off with a towel, “Well, a few.” 

Your eyes snap to him, and widen as you see that not only James is shirtless, but he is too. You avert your gaze. He’s very pretty like this, skin backlit by the afternoon sun, muscles lovely and defined. He looks so sweet right now and you just wish he would be sweet on you. You must be exploiting his good looks. 

“Sure. First put on a shirt please,” you smile politely at him.

“Nah, I’m more comfortable like this,” he snarks. 

You couldn’t argue with that, and so you shifted a little to let him sit down. He’s warm with exercise and sits close to you. You shift away, red with the fact that he is so, so, close. 

He frowns, and gives you a little space. But as he sees your blushing face, he smirks. 

“So,” he locks eyes with you intensely, and you’re the one who looks away first, “Question 3?”

“Right. Do you understand the basic concepts of…”

Sirius is a wonderful student, easy on the eyes, but also highly intelligent, even in his banter. 

You can’t pick up on it, but he borderline dotes on you. “You’re such a nerd, you know that?” he says adoringly. 

“I do, in fact. Now can you tell me, what’s the next part to this question? We’re on Question 5.”

“Not sure. I’m ‘fraid you’re going to have to explain it to me.”

Your eyes flit to his as if to say again?

“Again,” he confirms sweetly and you pull out your notes again without complaining. You don’t know if Sirius is playing along or not, but he’s so lovely you don’t say anything. 

Sirius’ handwriting is unsteady as he writes his own answers. “Homeostasis,” he says grimly as he notices that you notice and you laugh. 

“You’re being weird,” you say, “Are you okay?”

“Well not particularly, homogeneous equations are not serotonin-inducing.”

You laugh and turn your gaze towards Lily, who is walking back towards you. She looks very happy and very in love, so you scoop up all your homework and smile at Sirius. 

“I’ve got to go. Return the pen to me in class, won’t you?” you speak and scurry off.

He watches your receding figure like he’s lost something. Remus chuckles from behind him, “C’mon loverboy, you can catch her later. Let’s go. Prongs? Wormtail?”

“Comin’!”

“So then he said to me, ‘Merlin, you’re beautiful.’ Beautiful- not pretty or hot or cute, beautiful!” Lily gushes to you and you grin, yawning as you finish your Transfiguration homework. 

“Tell me more, then?”

She squeals. 

–

One thing about Sirius Black was that he was never one to give up, nor one to know when to either. So he persisted, even though there was nothing to persist for. You were already more than his. But when you came sniffling to Lily, sobbing about something, he felt something genuine, more genuine than he had ever felt for anybody before. 

“Lily, they mark so inconsistently,” you cried, “I worked so hard on this and I only got 90%! What sort of utter absurdity is this!?”

“Why don’t you take a nice relaxing shower and we’ll have a girls’ night, eh?” Lily smiled tenderly at you. 

“The first part is okay,” you sighed, “But all I want is to mope.”

Lily grins suddenly, “Okay, you do that.” 

You hear murmuring as you finish up your shower feeling much more relaxed. 

Then, there isn’t a sisterly presence in the room but one that is very familiar.

“Deja vu, isn’t it?” he strides in confidently. 

You sigh, “I’m sorry, you really don’t need to be here. I know Lils conscripted you but even I know that it’s terribly unpleasant to deal with a grieving girl.”

“Not if it’s you, love,” he says so genuinely. 

“Stop, Sirius,” you whispered softly. 

“Stop what?” he looked at you worriedly.

“Stop being so nice to me,” you tear up, “You can’t be serious about it.”

“Oh darling–”

“And stop calling me that,” you mumble, “It’s making me feel worse.”

“I can’t help it, they slip through.”

“I know, I know, I’m sorry, I’m a mess right now.” 

“Hey, gorgeous, it’s okay.” 

He lingers awkwardly. 

“You can sit,” you pat a spot next to you.

“Thanks,” he says as the bed dips, “I really do enjoy soft things, but I was sinking in your floor.”

You laugh.

He just stares inquisitively at you- perhaps a little different to the way you’ve noticed him glance at anybody before. You stare at him back, imitating the intensity of the looks he always gave you, and everyone else too. He turns really, really red. All Sirius wants is to hold you, you look so soft right now. 

You both talk for a little bit, and he’s charming. He’s very smooth and half of his remarks either sound too flirtatious or too genuine. It’s hard to tell with him. 

You glance at the clock ticking away.

“It’s getting late,” you start, “You should probably turn in for the night.”

Sirius is beaming at you, but never stops, “Mm?”

“I don’t know about you but I feel awful when I don’t get enough sleep.”

“Is that so?”

“Yep. You can stay here if you want, but if I drift off or Lily comes in snogging James, it isn’t my problem.”

“Okay. Did you hear about how the…”

Your eyelids begin to flutter shut, the day’s troubles forgotten as you fall asleep. 

After he’s sure that you’re sleeping, Sirius smiles softly, heaping the covers over your body and shutting off the lights. 

He leaves soon enough, and is met with a grateful Lily, who pats him on the back and hands him a chocolate frog. He unwraps it quickly and groans. 

“Awh, Dumbledore again!?”

--

“So Sirius flies down to the third gauge of the pitch, allowing Finlay to break free from opp. Marlene you trick your way into second, and Keys, you’re going to be hovering just before left hoop.”

“That’s Set 8. I’ll hold up fingers to indicate which one. We need to randomise them. Everyone got it?”

Murmurs of “Got it,” echo around the room. 

“Training dismissed. Thanks team, see you Friday on the pitch for training.”

Sirius waits for James as he shoves water bottles, red tape, blue tape, green tape, sunscreen into his kit bag. He lugs his own bag over his shoulder, nodding to Madam Hooch as she locks up the pitch. In the distance, he can hear two female voices.

“Ladies,” Hooch calls, “It’s past 11.”

“Sorry ma’am,” he hears your voice, “We were studying at the library. It ran over time.”

“Of course. Run along, wouldn’t want a prefect to find you.”

Snickering. 

“Girls?”

“Right, sorry ma’am,” your voice again, “We’re on our way.”

James gives Sirius a pointed look. Sirius scowls back. 

“Potter, Black, you too.”

“Potter?” you tease Lily, loud enough to be heard.

“Shut up, stupid,” Lily nudges you and you giggle. 

“Thank merlin that I took a shower. Do I look alright, mate?” James offers Sirius the question.

“I can’t see anything, Prongs.”

“Imagine.”

Sirius makes a retching noise and James flips him off. “You’re insufferable.”

“Hey, you’re picking up on her vocab too!” 

“Evans!” he jogs towards her and seeing her books clutched in her hand he offers his arm, “May I?”

You know when you’re not welcome in a situation and are chatting Madam Hooch’s ear off.

“And I told him, I’m no Quidditch player-”

“Oh really,” Hooch jokes, “Who would’ve thought?”

“Ma’am, have you seen these guns?”

“Says the Cannons supporter.”

“What, you go for, what, the Appleby Apples?”

“Arrows.”

“Appleby.”

“You’re infuriating, but you’re cute,” Hooch smiles coyly.

“Gee, thanks ma’am, you think I can pop in for a cookie next time? I heard yours are real good.”

“‘Course. Now goodnight.”

“Night!”

You walk fast through the castle. It’s cold, daunting and very dark. With the steep light of your wand and the candles from the Great Hall, it’s eerie, even. You shiver and quicken your pace, pulling your jumper closer to your body. 

“Hey sweet thing, you okay?” Sirius saunters to you and you wrinkle your nose at him. Darn him, he has long legs. And a whole quidditch bag full of heavy things he can use as his arsenal. And his hair is pulled back into a bun, strands falling out of place, quidditch jumper on. He looks very soft gazing at you like this, brows furrowed in concern. 

“It’s a treacherous world out there,” you smile. 

He smiles back, very comfortingly, “It is, isn’t it? If I didn’t have this bag of spiky beater equipment I’d be knocking on Minnie’s door. I’ll take your books. And be your personal bodyguard.”

“Thanks Sirius.”

“Anything for you.”

To his surprise, you slip a hand through his arm and curl it around his bicep. He’s a goner, he’s crimson but he’s lucky you don’t seem to notice. “You dote on all your girls?”

He just smiles to himself, shaking his head, “I don’t have as many ‘girls’ as you think.” 

“That means you dote on all of them,” you grin.

“I only have one.”

“Oh? You’ve settled?” You removed your hand so as to not cause trouble. 

“Not yet,” he says as you reach the common room and climb in,“C’ya beautiful!” He walks away to the Gryffindor quidditch team’s bathroom. 

You sit flusteredly down at a table, even though Sirius hasn’t done anything in particular, covering your warm face with your hands. 

–

Very few plates are clinking and no cutlery is being dropped onto the table with a dull thud at breakfast, given it is early. You slide in next to Dorcas at the Slytherin table. “Morning!” you greet as she gives you a smile. 

“Where’s everyone else?” you ask, and before she can answer you smirk, “Oh I forgot, it’s 6am and only the young rise so late!” 

You both beam at each other and giggle. 

“What’s got you looking very fine in a princess dress?” you ask Dorcas and she grins. 

“Marlene’s taking me out tonight. Wanna do my hair later?”

“Obviously. After prefect duty.”

“You got it, boss.”

You clatter down your cutlery, contemplating Sirius Black. Knocking on the door, you shake your head. Boys are just boys. You shouldn’t think about them.

“Deep in thought, sweetie?” Pomfrey bustles as she tends to patients. 

“Hi ma’am!” You jolt out of your thoughts and quickly tie on an apron, “What’s it today? Hey Charlie!”

Charlie waves at you, busy with making sandwiches, “Sleep well?”

“Yup, you?”

“Excellent.”

Pomfrey handed you some ointment, “Show Charlotte Cooper how to put this on, will you? She’s got a burn. Black, don’t you dare move! You’re troubling me enough!” 

You swivel around and meet eyes with Sirius. He’s got the tiniest cut on his face, just grazing his temple, and is clutching a bruise on his hand. 

“Bludger clipped me,” he laments. 

“Tough one,” Charlie sympathises, “Mate, you gotta try this topical cream for those cuts, I always use them for when the bludger isn’t treating me well.”

“Really, bro, I don’t usually fraternise with the enemy,” you scoff as you help a first-year lay on a thick layer of ointment, “But yeah sure mate.”

“Here, let me get it for you.” Charlie digs around in his pocket and pulls out a tiny little jar, “Catch, dude.”

“Thanks my guy. Love you.”

“Is this how they act all the time?” The first-year whispers to you. 

You laugh, “Lottie, this is just guys.”

“Are they in love?”

“Very much so.”

“Are you jelly?” 

“How could I be?”

“You like Siri!”

“I do not, Lottie.”

“Charles!” Pomfrey yells, “You’re distracting my patient. Make your sandwiches! Oh my Merlin, Zabini!”

Noel Zabini was on fire as he yelped. “The charm hasn’t worn off yet!” 

Pomfrey points at you whilst frantically putting out the fire, “Patch him up!”

Charlotte giggles, “Ooooh…”

You clamp her mouth shut before she starts singing, washing your hands. You size Sirius up whilst drying them. He laughs heartily. 

“Now don’t patronise the poor girl or I’ll make Charles do it.”

Sirius shuts up. You dip a cotton swab into iodine solution, turning to him. He’s quite tall, not Remus tall but still quite a height away from you. 

“Please take a seat,” you smile at him.

He shakes his head. 

“Take a seat, mate, it shows off your eyes,” Charlie calls as he washes up plates. 

Sirius sits, “Mate, I’d totally marry you.”

“Pfft, dude, I would too but have you seen my girlfriend? She’s to die for.”

“True. I mean, I don’t mean your girlfriend, but uh-”

“Oh my gosh, be quiet,” you shut his mouth for him, “Now stay still, ‘kay?”

You dab carefully at his cut. “Good news, it’s clotting and it’ll probably heal in 3 days. I’ll put a bandaid on it and it’s all good.”

Madam Pomfrey gives you an amused look as he looks up at you from where he sits. 

“It’ll heal better if it gets kissed.”

You snicker, “You’re right. Charlie?”

“Not him,” Sirius grimaced.

“I may truly adore Sirius but I refuse.” 

You smile, “Then, you’ll have to go without, Sirius. Knuckles now.”

He pushes his hand out and you inspect them and wince. “That must hurt.”

You dab a little soothing cream on them and band aid them up. Then you hand him a mirror. He’s got a nice invisible bandaid on his face and princess ones on his knuckles. 

“At least you could’ve gotten me the horse from Tangled.”

“You’re all good to go, Sirius.”

“No pain meds?”

You sigh, “Nope, now off you go.”

“Thanks, lovely girl.”

You’re already onto patching Lucius Malfoy up, as a concerned Narcissa sits by.

“He’s going to be okay, don’t worry.”

“Are you sure? He copped a pretty big knock.”

“I’ll clean up his wounds and we’ll see what we can do about that concussion, okay?”

–

“Thanks for the rounds, Charlie,” you part ways with him on the way to your common rooms.

“Charlie!” His girlfriend calls, “Hey babe!” she says to you. 

“Hey Val!”

After exchanging some friendly words, you scramble to find Dorcas, Marlene, Lily, James, Remus, Remus’ friend Gertrude, Peter, Mary, Alice, Frank, Sirius crammed into your dorm room, bustling and getting ready for Hogsmeade. 

“Oh thank Merlin.” A curling iron is handed to you. 

“What do we need this for?” 

James gestures to Lily. 

“Okay.”

You quickly curl Lily’s hair for her, straighten Marlene’s, twist Dorcas’ braids into a ponytail with a white ribbon, braid Alice’s hair, help Gertrude pick out a dress and put faux freckles on Mary plus choose a lipstick shade for her. Then you straighten James’ hair, laugh for a good ten minutes and curl it back because there’s nothing like a traumatised Lily Evans. 

You finally sit down and-

“My cut hurts, gorgeous,” Sirius mutters to you. 

You rub your eyes, “Okay.”

“Please?”

You don’t act as though you’ve given in, but you kiss his temple very lightly. 

“Happy?”

Sirius shakes his head stubbornly, pushing out his knuckles. You kiss them too. He’s suddenly overcome with affection for you and surges forward, wrapping his arms around you. He’s warm and kind and smells nice too. The jumper he’s wearing is soft. 

“You really didn’t have to,” he mutters into your hair, “But thank you, love.”

“What’s got you so soft?” You grin at him. 

“Yeah, what’s got you so soft?” James calls.

“Oh come on boys, let’s go to Hogsmeade!” Lily links arms with you and pulls you up. In the flurry that follows you don’t have enough time to put your coat back on. 

“Well darn aren’t you cold?” Lily asks as you shiver. 

“Yeah, forgot to bring a jumper,” you frown, “It’s okay, I’ve been meaning to get a new sweater anyway.” Lily gives a very intentional glance towards Sirius, who is currently laughing with Mary. 

He sobers up, making an “i’m in trouble” face at Mary. 

“Are you sure?” Lily says loudly, “I mean it’s really cold and you haven’t got anything on. I’m sure one of us could give you a layer. Here,” she shrugs out of her jacket, and glares at Sirius. 

Sirius intervenes, “I don’t think that’ll be necessary, Lily, you keep that on.”

He places his jacket on your shoulders, takes off his scarf and drapes it around your neck. 

“There. Perfect.” He looks at you right in your eyes. You blink.

“Thanks, Sirius.”

“Let’s go to The Three Broomsticks!” James shouts. 

The bell tinkles as you enter. The group sits down, bustling with joy. 

“12 Butterbeers please, ma’am,” James orders as you lean into Lily, chatting merrily with her, stealing glances at Sirius, who never seems to return them. 

But when things between Lily and James become very romantic, you turn to Sirius, who’s next to James, Butterbeer untouched.

“You okay there?” 

He smiles, “Yeah.”

“Well what are you thinking about?”

“How screwed I am.”

“For what?” 

“Can you come with me?” 

He’s urgent in his tone and you immediately pop up. You’re about to dig into your pockets to find your wallet but he stops you. “No need.” He puts three galleons on the table. 

The wind bites at your face outside, and you question the need for such a location to talk. It’s cold and the wind blows at your face at an ungodly angle and you know you look absurd in a jacket falling past your thighs, scarf oversized too but wrapped too many times around your neck and hair. Snow falls onto your eyelashes. It’s all a magnificent juxtaposition to Sirius, warmly smiling at you, grey eyes a shade more gold. 

“I swear if you brought me out here in the freezing cold just to tell me that the earth is round I will personally-”

“Please tell me you like me like I like you. Everyone else says you do but I don’t know,” he rambles. 

“How’d you like me?”

“More than anyone and differently to everyone.”

“You like me?”

He nods slowly. He’s huddled with you under blinding snow, his back intentionally shielding you from the direction of the harsh sleet and hands on the sides of your hips. 

You reach your arms to hang clumsily around his neck. He swallows. 

“Do you reciprocate my feelings?” he asks tenderly. 

You laugh lightly. “You really would think that I don’t?” You tippytoe, barely reaching his lips. You see a little uncertainty flicker in his eyes. You soften, relaxing. “Of course I do.” You nestle your head in the crook of his neck. There’s a gentle fragrance you find there. Maybe it could be your boyfriend’s cologne. “Can we be dating then?” you glance hopefully at him. 

A look of shock escapes onto his face, “You want to be dating me?”

“Please?” 

“Oh sweetheart, of course we can be.”

“So will you be my boyfriend?”

A sweet smile found its way onto Sirius’ lips. “Yeah. That would be nice.”

“I’ve been meaning to go to Brook’s. Will you come with me?” Brook’s was a lovely girly spot with clothes and beverages and books and sometimes other girls you could talk to. 

Sirius stares off for a bit. No one’s ever asked him to accompany them to Brook’s, as simple as it sounds and there’s a pang of fondness for you. It’s said so undemandingly too.

“I know it’s a lot of pink and frills and stuff, so it’s okay-”

“I’ll go. I don’t mind girly.” 

You beam at him, “Really?”

“I’d go anywhere for you, sweet thing.”

[niqhtlord01]

Humans are weird: Prison complexes

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The delegation shuttle slowly drifted into the hangar bay and nestled itself down on the floor as the bulkhead doors slowly closed behind it. A loud hiss of gasses spurt into the room as it was pressurized once more and the shuttle doors opened allowing the occupants to exit.

Morth was the first to exit the ship and looked around the cold landing bay unimpressed. The interior was drab and minimalistic in design compared to the other stations and facilities his team had visited in the previous cycles. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small data pad. The device spun into life at the touch of his talon finger and he jotted down several quick notes before placing it back into his pocket.

His inspection had only just begun and already Morth was unimpressed of the human facility. It was doubtful that this installation would receive a passing recommendation, but Morth was always thorough with his work and would hold off until he had seen everything before making his mark.

Along the opposite end of the hangar bay a door slowly opened and a trio of individuals stepped out. Morth was confused for a moment as despite the room now being pressurized the individuals all seemed to be wearing space suits designed for deep space mining.

They were bulky suits that were made to withstand micro-meteor strikes so miners could operate freely in dense asteroid belts; so to say seeing them in a prison complex was confusing was an understatement.

Their footfalls resounded around the confined hangar bay as they approached the delegation before finally coming to a stop before Morth. The lead suit held out a hand as their visor retracted upwards to show a smiling human face.

“I’m Warden Jim Dunk,” the human opened, “welcome to devil’s gambit penitentiary.”

Morth took the hand in shook it; his own hand appearing rather small in comparison to the suited gauntlet.

“Morth Jackerberry, lead inspector,” Morth replied before turning to show the rest of his team to the human warden, “and these are my fellow inspectors.”

Dunk tilted his head in acknowledgement to the rest of Morth’s team. “A pleasure to meet you all,” He said before turning back to Morth. “I’m flattered that my humble establishment is a potential partner.”

“You came highly recommended by several governments as professional prison complex.” Morth admitted begrudgingly, “Though I must say you were not first on my list of candidates.”

It was the truth, but if the human had taken offense to it they did not show anything more than a shrug in their clunky suit. Morth’s team had been examining several private prison complexes on behalf of numerous political bodies that were in need of special facilities to hold their more dangerous criminals.

These individuals had been sentenced for their crimes but were quickly found to be increasingly difficult to contain for said sentences with existing prisons. Several had already escaped multiple times from them which only further proved the need for more advanced incarceration facilities.

“We may not be flashy,” the warden spoke as he fixed his gazed on Morth, “but I believe our record does speak for itself.”

“Indeed.” Morth admitted as the warden began leading the inspectors back to the airlock. “Zero reported escape attempts and no reports of violence between prisoners or the guards.”

“Sounds almost too good to be true doesn’t it?” Dunk laughed, but Morth was not amused.

“Which is why I am here to see its validity first hand.” Morth replied coldly.

When the party reached the airlock the warden held up as hand to forestall them from entering. One of the other humans with him tapped in several keys into a wrist computer and a larger locker opened up. Inside were a rack of similar mining suits to what the warden and his men were wearing.

“Before you enter the complex you will need to put these on.” The warden said as they stepped aside to allow easier access to the locker.

“Why?” one of Morth’s fellow inspectors asked.

Dunk looked at Morth and smiled. “You wished to know how we keep these inmates so tame; well this is the first step in how.” -------------------------------------------

About an hour later after much fumbling and grumbling the inspectors all wore the same mining suit. They were then led through a series of brightly lit corridors into a wide open area with several dozen individuals walking around.

“Is this a staff room?” Morth asked out loud, to which Dunk laughed and shook his head.

“No,” he said as he waved to some nearby individuals to come over, “this is the prison yard and these are prisoners.”

“What?!”

The inspectors began to realize that they were now surrounded by at least a hundred prisoners with no means of protecting themselves. Morth, though outwardly calm, was likewise panicking internally as the prisoners walked over to them. It was only when he noticed the calm demeanor of the warden and his two guards that he began to calm down a fraction.

“I would like to introduce you to Finch and Zipo.” The warden said as the two prisoners came before the group.

“A pleasure to meet you.” Finch said calmly much to the surprise of the group.

“And to you.” Morth replied back. “Are you currently a prisoner here?”

“Yes.” Finch replied without hesitation.

“And what did you do to be sent here?” Morth found himself asking.

Finch put his hands in his pockets and looked down at the ground. “I blew up three banks on Hydora III and stole seven billion credits, then escaped the local prison off world before getting caught by bounty hunters.”

Still puzzled Morth pressed another question. “Did you injure anyone during these crimes?”

To his surprise Finch nodded. “Killed a couple bank guards, maimed a few dozen bounty hunters; nothing too sadistic.”

“I recall you peeled the face off one of them because they looked at you funny.” Dunk remarked dryly.

“Oh yeah, forgot about that guy.” Finch scratched his head innocently like a child remembering what put him in the time out corner while the rest of the group looked on in horror.

Here was an individual who was fully capable of killing everyone present and escaping, and yet they were acting like nothing more than a child being caught in the act.

Dunk nodded to both of them and waved them away. “You may leave now.” He said and the pair of criminals walked away. Morth looked at the human warden with new respect.

“I have not seen a warden who came so close to his charges, let alone one who spoke so freely with them without fear.” He remarked.

“That’s because they know my rules,” the warden said looking back at the criminals as they walked away, “and what will happen if they break them.”

“Oh?” Morth was intrigued now. “And what are your rules?”

Dunk held up four fingers.

“1. Do whatever I or the guards tell them to do. 2. In absence of the warden or guards do whatever the floor monitors tell them to do. 3. Guards and floor monitors will not abuse their power. 4. Violence of any kind is prohibited as is killing. 5. Breaking any of the above mentioned rules results in punishment for the entire floor.”

The warden listed off their rules as crisply as a waiter listing off the daily specials at a food establishment.

“And this is what keeps them in line?” Morth asked as he looked around the indoor prison yard. There were dozens of prisoners all calmly interacting with each other doing various activities, but Morth could not see the slightest bit of hostility amongst any of them.

“The notion of being spaced as punishment has that way with people.” The warden chuckled.

It took a moment for the human’s words to register with Morth, but when they did the color drained from his face.

“Excuse me?” Morth asked dumbfounded. “Spaced?”

The warden nodded and pointed to Morth’s suit. “That suit is for protection, but not against the other prisoners.”

He slapped his own suit and it run out like a bell foundry. “Sure this thing is darn near impenetrable to them, but it’s meant to protect the guards and myself from the vacuum of space should we encounter a rule breaker.”

Turning around the warden pointed upwards and Morth followed his hand to see that the roof of the chamber was in fact two giant hangar bay doors.

“In the event a rule breaker is detected the doors to that floor will open and the atmosphere will be sucked out violently; exposing the convicts to the harsh bitter vacuum of space.”

“That’s barbaric!” Morth found himself shouting.

Dunk shrugged. “This isn’t exactly your group of choir boys here so I won’t lose any sleep.”

“Besides,” the warden continued, “it does wonders for the prisoners to monitor themselves since the group will not tolerate anyone whose actions could get them all killed.”

“Fear of death is a powerful corrective measure in these sorts of situations.”

Morth looked around in newly found horror. Beneath the calm exterior he could now see every prisoner was merely repressing themselves out of fear. The horrible fate of death in the void crushing their more aggressive tendencies while ensuring a collective set of standards enforced by the whole.

It was fortunate that all that were sent here would be seeing consecutive life sentences, for if they ever returned to the general public they could become even more dangerous with all these repressed emotions.

“So,” Morth heard the warden say as he held out a hand to him again, “does my facility impress you enough to earn some new residents?”

[justjams2003]

The final push

Pairing: Lewis Hamilton x wife!reader

Summary: You and Lewis have been friends (turned lovers) since forever. When he’s struggling on his race he asks to talk to you on the radio. Believing you to be the only thing that could help him.

Warnings: Fluff, make out, angst, just like a lot of emotions

Word count: 2,1k words. Unedited

You've always known Lewis. He'd always been a part of your life. If it was as little kids on the playground, the one with rusty pipes and ripped up rubber floors, or at school. You were inseparable from such a young age.

Though, both of you grew up quite poor but had great ambitious for life. Wanting to show the rich kids what you were really made of. That they were wrong about you. You wanted to be a famous actor, watching movies (while doing homework, quite to your mom's denial) inspired you.

You wanted to bring people to a new world when they were stuck in one similar to yours. And Lewis supported you all the way. Going to every school play, every notice for an actor he found he would very excitedly bring to you. And after every failed audition you would crawl right into his lap.

He'd tell you stories of what he believes your future to be. How excited he'll be when he can see you on the big screen for the first time. How they'd regret it. Then of course you'd eat the cheapest ice-cream you could find and watch the same movies you've had since forever.

And when he when he would visit, after he went to live with his dad, he would show you every trick with his little race car. Tell you stories of his great victory. You begged and begged and finally, when Lewis got signed, your mom allowed you to watch his races.

You (and his dad of course) were his biggest fans. You cheered him on so loud, making certain he would hear you. And after every win you'd spend whatever money you had to go for celebration dinner.

Were you friends? Were you lovers? You had no idea. The way he held your protectively by the waist told you lovers. But the way he would watch other girls told you friends. Lewis didn't want to ask you out. He believed you deserved someone better. Someone who had a definite future and would give you everything you deserved.

That was until other boys began noticing you. His blood would boil when he sees you blush at their comments. His fists would clench when they would buy you flowers, take you out. Just like he wanted to do, but couldn't.

But to be quite honest, you didn't want to go out with them. The blushing was only due to your low self-esteem. The flowers, the food, they all flattered you. That was until they opened their mouths and began blabbing away about a women's place and how they were going to provide. It made you gag and roll your eyes. You were going to take care of yourself. You didn't need them.

One night, after another tragic date, you sat again in Lewis' lap. His warm body comforted you more than any other could at that moment. His voice lulling you back to the happiness that Lewis always seemed to see glow out of you. And when you fell asleep in his lap, he was decided.

He would finally ask you out. He had nothing to lose. His career was finally starting to take off at 18. Your as well, staring in "Heartbeat," as one of the residents of Ashford. A beloved resident by the fans none the less. He knows you’re gonna go far in life, he just so wishes to be there when you rach your dreams.

It was a daring move really. The whole race it was all he could really think of. That and of course not crashing, but with the image of you in his mind, first place was so easy for him. It was as if you fueled him. Like his car needed fuel, so did he. And the with the thought of you, his lips on yours, he won with 26 seconds to spare.

He stopped the car as quick as he could. His smile was wide as he saw you cheering him on as usual. God, how beautiful you'd become. From so young to this amazing, strong and drop-dread gorgeous girl in front of him. He dropped his helmet as fast as he could. His legs felt like jelly as he swiftly made his way to you. Before you even realised his lips were on yours.

It was perfect, just how he imagined it to be. And for you, you were melting in his touch. A small puddle in his arms. Wrapping your arms around his neck as you leaned in as much as you could. Lovers, definitely lovers. And the speech he gave you just made your knees wobble.

"Y/N, listen. I know that my future is unstable. I might end up a bum with nothing to my name. But I promise you, if you were to join my side I would do everything in my might to give you the life you deserve. The life someone as amazing as you needs." You rolled your eyes at him, he did not expect that, but you tended to shock him.

"I don't give a single flying fuck how we end up, as long as you stay with me through it all." You smilled at him. Twirling his curls in your finger. He gave a chuckle to the ground before meeting your eyes again. "By God son, I thought you'd never ask her." Lewis' dad came up patting him on the shoulders. He'd also become like a father to you.

When he proposed, three years later, when he decided his pay checks were big enough, it was a no brainer. You didn't care about how big the wedding was, or the size of the rock. All that you cared about was that you could now officially call him yours forever.

Not to mention, two years later he won his first world championship. You were the first he ran to, then his father and mother. His smile was so wide and God your knees were shaking seeing him so happy. You were so happy and beyond proud of him. Knowing the hours he had put in. The nights he spent in your lap, stressing over each corner and turn and strategy.

Not to mention your career had grown even bigger. Staring in bigger movies, even earning a role in Sherlock Holmes, then Game of thrones, and soon you were a highly sought after actor. And Lewis was there for every award won, every premier. Supporting you like he had done when you were younger.

Soon, it got hard to be at two places at the same times. Missing races, missing premiers, missing each other. It made your heart ache every time you couldn't grasp him tight in a victory kiss. But this was the last race of 2019. You've been watching the points close and even was there for at least 5 of the first races.

You begged and demanded to be there for this one. He'd won the last few years and this just might be his 6th one in a row. You've always made sure to be there for the last one. For the last podium and this was no different. You will be there even if it meant losing this acting job. Luckily, it did not.

So when Hamilton heard a knock on his hotel door, his heart already raced in hopes it would be you. And it was, clearly having just come from the airport with your Mercedes hat on. "You came," he gave a big smile, still forever in awe that you keep choosing him over and over again.

His smile makes your heart melth. His cute gap in his teeth and how his joy always spreads to his eyes. Those eyes, they look at you with more love than you’ve seen in anybody. Your heart just swells feeling so honoured to be the person he choises to spend his life with.

"Of course, I don't care how much money they are paying me, I am not missing this for the world." You smiled, wrapping your arms around his neck and easily slotting into his side. God how you've missed his warmth, his voice, his accent. He lets out a chuckle at your eagerness, "I've missed you," he nestles himself into the side of your neck.

Taking in everything of you. Your sweet scent, your soft skin, your warm touch, anything. He's been stressing about this last race more than he'd like to admit.His hands shake lightly just remembering the stress of it all. You noticed immediately, taking his chin in yours, chuckling at the beard he's decided to grow.

"I like this," you smile, it's true. You like seeing the laugh lines that have formed around his eyes, the slight crinkle ik his brow, his beard. All showing the ages you two have spent together. He lets out a grin, "I hoped you would," his mind can finally rest just a bit. Knowing his number one supporter is there by his side.

Lewis had to get rest, you both knew that. And after a quick make out sesh you commanded him so. He did sleep well, best he has in the last few months.

But as the race began, he was falling behind. His tires were struggling, the engine kept having power drops, the car was heating up and he was struggling to keep third place. The whole team noticed this quite well., the air in the paddock being thick and tense.

Everyone was unsure that they can fix it with only three laps in. A pit stop would only put him futher behind. They can’t even fix all the issues that he is having in the time a pit stop would take. "Lewis, a pit stop will take too long. What else can we do to help?" Toto said on the radio, guiding him the best he could.

The radio was silent for some time, making everyone just more nervous, then finally it was broken. "Just put Y/N on, I need to speak to her." It was all he said but his request was quickly answered. Everyone scatttering to get you a pair of headphones. You were sitting right by Toto, watching him and every car close to him with a daunting look.

"Lewis, my dear, I'm here," you said, he could hear the stress in your tone. Not for his podium position but for his well being. The car was struggling and clearly so was he, mentally. Tired from the stress and slightly panicing about his struggling race.

 "I need you. Your my fuel, I do all of this for you. Please, please..." His pleas were something you haven't heard before outside of the bedroom. But this was much more vulnerable. A cry for help to achieve a dream he's talked to you about so many times before.

You weren't exactly sure what that plea was. What was he asking your to say? To motive him? Scream at him? Seduce him? You honestly don’t know. In your mind he’s so much more than he believes himself to be. As you didn't know, you just began talking. Saying anything that came to mind.

"Lewis Hamilton, I know for a fact you are not doing this all for me. This has been your dream since we were barely ten years old. You can't win this thing if you do it for me, do it for yourself. And know I will be there to love you. Whether you end up burned, broken, last or first. I will be there and I will love you just as much as you do, if not more."

You didn't really know what else to say. You just poured your heart out. Saying what you are constantly thinking and feeling. Your love for him, your support for him, your pride for him. "You have already provided for me, you have provided love and care and pride and commitment and you've put me first so many times. It's your turn now."

It was like someone lit a fire under him. He wasn't sure how when he asked for you, you still somehow made it about him. And you were right. Knowing you're still there for him, through rags and riches fueled him like that very first time all over again.

And by some sort of miracle, he grappled control of the car. As if he were disciplining a child, he shook it into behaving. Suddenly the engine was fine, the heat didn't bother him and the tires would just have to work, in his mind they didn't have much choice.

And he won, speeding past the other 2 racers and winning by much more than he expected. And of course, in his speech he thanked his wife, for supporting him through thick and thin.

xxxxxxxx

Hi guys. I’ve recently become formula 1 obsessed. My favourite driver being Lewis Hamilton. He just does things to me. So expect a lot of Lewis content :P

[moonstrider9904]

Castle Town

Chapter 3 of Night Personified

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{crossposted to AO3} {join my taglist!} {crossposted to wattpad}

WitchHunter!Crosshair x Fem!Reader x Warlock!Maul

Chapter Summary: You and some of your fellow witches find yourselves at a social gathering, and as much as your mind lingers on the mysterious warlock from the forest, you end up joining hands with someone else.

Tags: Mature. Mentions of persecution and being hunted. Alcohol consumption.

Word count: 4.1k

Songs: my castle town

A/N: At long last, the next chapter is here! I am so sorry for the long-ass time between updates. Please know that, despite my focus on other projects, my love for this story never faded, and your comments and praise and excitement has helped keep that alive as well. I continue to be grateful for all your love and support. 

I cannot promise you that updates will be coming more regularly or frequently as things are still hectic. Please, accept this as a Samhain gift for now, and I hope to be writing on the regular again someday.

If you like, please consider reblogging!

Also, please enjoy this beautiful new banner made by the incredible @eloquentmoon whom I adore with all my heart!

Hiding in plain sight. That is what you thought you would be doing, what you hoped wouldn’t turn against you. If it did, it would be deadly.

“Not going will be more dangerous,” Ahsoka’s voice tore you from your trance. “With his sheer amount of cunning, he’ll know perfectly well who didn’t show up, and why.”

You managed to look away from the dress resting on your bed to meet Ahsoka’s blue eyes, your face rendered a question mark.

“He?” You asked.

She hesitated, as if she feared speaking. “The emperor. Who else?”

You gave a quick shake of your head, embarrassed to have forgotten such a key detail.

“Right,” you answered. “Sorry, it just feels as if it’s been so long since this began.”

“And yet, it’s only been a week,” Ahsoka spoke, her tone lowering again.

One week since it had begun—the realization hit you as well when, looking out at the dark window, you realized that night would mark the night of Samhain.

And you wouldn't be dancing with your fellow witches. You wouldn’t have your hands joined with them, you wouldn’t be chanting around the fire, making spell jars, cooking and baking and brewing with the season’s many spices that delighted your nostrils even in dreams.

You and Ahsoka let your gazes travel to the floor, both in heartbreak at the notion of a coven being forced apart.

“Hosting a ball at the height of the social season,” Ahsoka commented with a grim laugh. “Do you think he knows what we celebrate today?”

You absently looked at the fabric of your dress as you picked it up in your hands. “It’s disgusting to think we’re going to have to spend Samhain under his eye rather than in the forest with each other. Yes, I think he knows. I reckon he thinks he couldn’t have chosen a better day.”

“That wicked man,” Ahsoka said.

You gave a sad smile as you looked at your roommate; Ahsoka was already dressed with one of her finest gowns, one dark brown in color with lace-like patterns embroidered on the fabric with thread only a tone darker than the base, making it barely noticeable, but not less beautiful once it was noticed. You then looked at the dress in your hands again, one of a similar trim to Ahsoka’s but with a rich, burgundy fabric, excluding the lace patterns. Your gown seemed simple, at first, but its color would be what truly caught others’ gazes. Its skirt was not too frilly yet not too slim, it was a perfect A-line that would flatter you for the night, but your favorite detail was, by far, the deep red satin that lined the edges of the sleeves and the bust.

“At least we’ll look pretty,” Ahsoka grinned, though you didn’t know how much truth she held in her optimistic intention.

“Suppose so,” you answered. “I should put this on.”

“I’ll leave you to it,” Ahsoka said as she gave you a more sincere smile before leaving your room.

With a doubtful glance at the mirror, you began to undress, replacing the reliable old clothes you wore with the elegant ball gown. Though you were surprised at how much you liked the look of red on your skin, you couldn’t shake the thought of how many more things you would rather be doing on such an important night. This night, a Samhain night that happened to fall on a new moon, was supposed to mark the height of your power, the essence of being a witch.

And you would have to spend it fending for your life in the act of stepping into the Emperor’s castle. What a cruel irony, you told yourself, that even if the Emperor didn’t capture a witch, he would still inflict his own type of torment onto her by making her go if she didn’t want to raise any questions. That alone marked a victory for him, at least for that night.

Grooming your hair was not a task that took you very long, and you decided to simply add a little heirloom crowning the top of your head. A carefully woven golden tiara lined with artificial flowers and gemstones. It not only harmonized with your gown, but the flowers and gems made you think of herbs and crystals. It wasn’t obvious that it would be owned by a witch, but it would be enough for you for that night.

You and Ahsoka left the house together and walked in silence towards the castle. You decided against arriving separately—everyone knew you lived together, and not arriving that way would probably cause suspicion. As you arrived at the castle, you avoided eye contact with the royal guard, not that it wasn’t customary to do so, at least with the ceremonial guards who were armored and standing completely still. They were so still and fully covered in iron that you’d heard people around town speculating they were merely empty suits of armor.

You knew better than that. You knew the Emperor preferred his illusions of power different, but anything regarding military strength would never be a fake for him.

You began worrying, however, when you noticed figures between the armored members of the royal guard. People who were clothed differently wearing only partial sets of armor, mainly chest plates and shoulder pads, and who were dressed elegantly enough to partake in a soirée such as that one.

They’d be in the ballroom with you. The witch hunters themselves.

As you walked on, you tried your best to push the image of the silver-haired man out of your mind.

You and Ahsoka got in without a problem, and it felt like a good sign when you didn’t see too many pairs of eyes on you. It wasn’t a long way between the castle’s entrance and the ballroom, large and blindingly bright with the many chandeliers that dangled from the ceiling, their gleam enhanced by the diamond-like gems reflecting their light. At the other end of the rectangular room, across the center that already had some couples dancing, was the string band whose players were all dressed in the imperial color scheme. The melodies they played were beautiful, so much that a part of you felt it could dare to feel safe, as if you were in the ball of your dreams about to meet a charming prince.

But above the band, there was a balcony where three figures watched over the ball. The two guards flanking the sides were already ominous, but at the center was the Emperor himself, hooded and menacing.

You felt dread shower itself over you.

“Any chance the drinks are poisoned?” Ahsoka teased in an attempt to brighten the mood.

“He wouldn’t take such a big risk,” you answered. “How many people in this ballroom do you think want him dead?”

Ahsoka snickered. “Can’t be just the two of us.”

You walked shoulder to shoulder with Ahsoka through the sea of people that had gathered in front of the refreshments table—it appeared you wouldn’t be the only ones in need of a drink to get through the night. For a moment, you remembered you were at a social gathering when you felt the gazes of two men across the table on you, both looking at you with polite smiles, and one of them even raising their drink at you.

Even so, you couldn’t figure yourself less interested in them, and beside you, Ahsoka giggled.

“Right,” she said, flooded with sarcasm. “We’re here to find husbands, aren’t we?”

You gave her a playful eye roll when you finally reached for a drink for yourself, and without paying anyone any more attention, you and Ahsoka gracefully walked away.

“We’re here to prove a point,” you said.

“And what point is that?” She looked at you confidently.

Her smile seemed to spark something within you, a tiny gleam of will to fight back. Then, you met Ahsoka’s gaze and you returned her smile, fostering the little flame within you.

“That he can’t take our night,” you answered. “That we’re going to go back home tonight free as the birds in the forest, and he’ll be none the wiser, even with his little spectacle.”

“I like the sound of that,” said Ahsoka, clinking her cup with yours.

The two of you walked around the dance floor watching the couples there and briefly commenting as though it were any other occasion, and for a moment, nothing seemed wrong with the world. You could tell which couples were serious about their courtship and which ones weren’t just by the way they danced, but you particularly enjoyed looking at all the different gowns. Each one was exquisite and it reflected the personality of the person who wore it, and in little time, you gained a bit more love for your own gown and its rich red color.

Then, across the ballroom, you saw a familiar face. Fennec stood there wearing a deep orange gown that looked divine on her. Your features lit with a smile, and with your newfound confidence and sense of rebellion, you felt you’d walk across the floor and say hello to her. The conversation would certainly be merrier with someone else you knew, and it would take power from Palpatine if you were with another one of your kind.

But just as you began to move forward, an intangible force showering itself over you made you come to a stop, and a wave of cold coursed through you.

Don’t.

Your eyes widened the slightest bit in surprise, though you managed to control the rest of your body to not make your reaction as obvious.

You recognized that voice. Deep, smooth, sensuous, filling your senses as if he were standing right next to you, hovering over you the way he had at the forest when he spoke of chaos, of running away, of freedom. Slowly and with a serene expression, not daring to express the fear and delight you felt, you turned your body to face the window that led to the dark night.

Two yellow eyes watched you, but as soon as you blinked in disbelief, they were gone.

Was he really there? Was he watching you?

Why did you love the idea of him watching you so much?

“Look!” Ahsoka called with a brief little gasp. “The miss with whom the duke was dancing stepped on his toe!”

You grinned as you heard Ahsoka desperately try to hold in her laughed, and you had to do the same while watching a fully grown man with noble blood stumbling away from the dance floor wheezing in pain, leaving the young miss flustered on the dance floor, but not sorry in the slightest.

“You’d think a man of that rank and size would be able to handle more pain,” Ahsoka sneered.

Whispers and mumbles could be heard around you; everyone clearly talked about the same thing. It allowed some of your optimism to return, but you found yourself looking out the many large windows of the ballroom in search of the beautiful, haunting yellow eyes. You never found them, and you figured perhaps you’d be able to see them among the people gathered at the ball.

As the current song the band was playing drew nearer to its end, you looked around the crowd watching the dancing couples in search of Maul’s eyes. To your disdain, you didn’t find them there either, and instead you were left observing the people. Some were commoners, like you, but others were clearly of rank, like the duke whom you had a hunch had that toe step coming.

A few other faces called to you, such as the young and hopeful debutantes, or the widow who watched the dancing couples with a melancholic smile, or the man who’d tattooed half of his face as a skull and wore a red vest under his black coat—he called out to you the most. He had the same brown eyes you’d been thinking of earlier, the only ones capable of pushing those bright yellow irises out of your mind, but you’d been reluctant to dream of.

You still hadn’t apologized for hitting him with the branch.

The music ended and intelligible chatter filled the room. Just as your gaze was lost among the sea of people, you felt Ahsoka shifting next to you, her hand tugging at your sleeve just as you felt a new presence appearing next to you. You gave Ahsoka a quick look but she was already looking past you, and when you turned around to meet the new face, your heart made a leap.

Piercing brown eyes, one with a reticle tattoo over it, crowned by beautiful silver hair.

And you knew he meant you no harm, but a part of you still waited for the smooth voice to sound in your head, telling you to run away. Instead, it remained silent.

“May I?” The man then held his hand out to you, gesturing at the dance floor with his head low.

You looked over at Ahsoka, who already gazed at you with mischievous eyes that whispered get it. You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you, and you found yourself looking at the archer again, who looked strikingly handsome in his black clothing topped by the chestplate of armor.

The armor reminded you what he was, but it didn’t stop you. To dance that night with one of the Emperor’s witch hunters, right in front of him, and getting out of there unharmed, it could be no bigger testament to the power you held, to the power you took from him and his henchmen. You felt pairs of eyes falling on you, those of people suddenly wondering if you would take the hand of the man proposing a dance to you.

You took it and followed him to the floor. His touch on your skin felt like a flame, a feeling enhanced when he held your hand out at his side, and his free hand went to your waist. You then took his shoulder, looking up at him, realizing just how much taller than you he was.

It was impossible not to smile.

The music began; a gentle and delicate tune on the piano to a tempo of three-quarters, perfect for a waltz. You and the archer bowed down as you held each other, and you rose to begin moving across the floor in tandem with the other couples who had joined.

You glided as if you’d known how to dance your entire life; he was great at leading you, his grip firm and tender on you, his gaze like a veil on your figure. The melody you danced to had a magical touch to it, one that seemed to isolate you from the rest of the couples on that floor and take you to a whole other realm.

Magical as it was, you were only brought back to the real world when you saw the pair of yellow eyes watching you outside one of the windows—or had you imagined them? Your attention was brought back to the archer almost as quickly as it had left him, though it seemed your little hiccup hadn’t escaped his observative gaze.

“What is it?” He asked, his voice a whisper of intimacy.

You felt heat rushing to your face. “N-Nothing.”

You had to find something else to focus on quickly, otherwise you’d come across as strange, or in the worst of cases, suspicious. It came to you as both a blessing and a curse when the archer smirked at you, amused; the confident, alluring curve of his lips made you shiver as you danced, and you were taken rather by surprise when he spun you delicately before holding you even closer to him, as the music in the background sounded like stars dropping on a lake.

“I…” your gaze fell on his cheekbone, causing you to chuckle nervously. “I’m sorry about that cut on your cheek. I’m afraid it looks as if it’ll leave a mark.”

To your surprise, he gave a smooth laugh. “I have many, don’t worry.”

Dancing with him softened your grip on reality, and sooner than you may have wanted, the beautiful piano melody drew to an end. You and the archer gave a final bow at each other before going your separate ways on the floor; you found your way towards Ahsoka, but it wasn’t without looking over your shoulder at him more than once.

“Something you want to tell me?” Ahsoka walked up to you, smiling. “You seemed pretty taken by your mystery man.”

You would have denied it, but the breathless laugh you let out gave you away. Had you been one of the young debutantes, you would have begun fanning yourself, possibly even fainted if only to let him heroically catch you.

“Will you dance with him again?” Ahsoka wiggled her brows at you.

“I’m not sure,” you giggled. “All I know is that it was wonderful.”

Ahsoka gave you an approving smile; she was never one to distrust you, and the previous week had only solidified that. Her cup had emptied while you were dancing with the archer, so she made her way back to the refreshments table with you following behind her.

As you did, you looked over your shoulder again, though this time, you didn’t find the archer with your gaze. You looked at one of the windows, hoping perhaps you’d still see the yellow eyes after your stunt on the dance floor.

But all you saw was darkness.

*

That one dance had been a highlight, and though your eyes had met with those of the archer a couple more times in the remainder of the soirée, you hadn’t been blessed with his proximity again. The night drew to its close and you were back at your house with Ahsoka, with no suspicions risen, no danger following you.

And yet, you sat in your bed, sleepless in the dark. There was less than an hour left of Samhain, and out there in the forest, a magic remained beckoning you to step outside. In a fit, you gathered your cloak and silently stepped out of the house, making your way through the forest towards the remains of Redwood House.

It was still a place of magic; you could feel it when you arrived. And, despite everything, you didn’t want to end Samhain without somehow visiting your coven.

The only source of light was the torch in front of you, and you noticed how dark it truly was without the light of the Moon. It seems there was no escaping the fact which that darkness represented, the dark times you and your fellow witches had been shrouded with against your will.

You thought back to the confidence you felt back at the Emperor’s ball, the way you’d told Ahsoka you’d take power from him, that he couldn’t take anything away from you so long as he didn’t know what you were. But there, standing in the darkness among the ruins of the beautiful Redwood House, you felt differently. You wouldn’t claim that you didn’t mean what you said; you did, more than anything.

You just didn’t know if it would ever amount to anything other than not letting the Emperor catch you, and that was something you weren’t fully alright with.

A twig snapped behind you, and you turned around, aiming your torch at the source of the sound. Could it be another witch? An animal? Or perhaps someone dangerous who would discover you and turn you in? You looked closely into the darkness in search of yellow eyes, finding hope within yourself.

Soon, however, you were met with the figure of a witch hunter, and yet, you managed to relax.

He looked at you not unlike he had when you’d danced with him, and his brown eyes looked down at the ground covered in ashen wood. His confidence faded when he looked at you, apologetically, returning to seriousness.

“Why have you come?” The archer asked you.

“Why have you followed?” You countered. “You’ve completed your mission here, you’re standing on the evidence. Why come back?”

He chuckled. “I got the feeling that a certain little witch would be stubborn enough to come here tonight.”

“Why tonight?” You asked, defensively. “Of all nights, why this night?”

“I’m a hunter of your kind,” he replied calmly. “We were told of any… important dates witches have. We’ve been ordered to hunt on those nights.”

You felt your body going cold. “Is that why you’re here?”

“I’m not here to hurt you,” he said, his voice smooth and coiled. He took a couple of paces closer to you, and you didn’t move away from him. The archer looked up at the pitch black sky as though he were lost in it, and oddly, you saw a bit of yourself in him.

“No moon tonight,” he commented.

“She’s there,” you replied. “She always is, she just isn’t shining right now.”

When your words were spoken, you two met eyes again, and only then you realized how close he was to you. His usually hard gaze had softened, and he looked at you as if he were trying to figure you out. After what felt like an eternity, his lips curved the same way they had back when you were dancing, but he managed to return himself to seriousness soon enough.

“Look, you shouldn’t be here,” he told you. “A horde of hunters will be here in less than an hour, and they’ll take you in for interrogation in the best of cases if you’re found.”

You wanted to trust him, to heed his words. You wanted to get out of there, and tell him to come with you, to not concern himself with the Emperor and his legions. But a part of you hesitated; you’d encountered this man on the night all this terror began, after all.

“What is your name?” He asked you.

Finally, you took a step back, your figure hunching in the slightest.

“How do I know I can trust you?” You whispered.

The archer wouldn’ question your doubts regarding him; you’d met him with his bow pulled on you, after all. He didn’t try to get closer to you, but you watched as he reached into one of the pockets on his vest and pulled out a tiny crystal attached to a chain. You couldn’t believe your eyes at first—it looked like a quartz, one of the most prominent crystals in a witch’s world. You paid close attention to it, and you couldn’t help but stare at it when you realized it was indeed a quartz.

Astounded, you met eyes with him again.

“Where did you get that?” You asked.

“It’s been with me for years,” he said softly. “I didn’t pry it off anyone you know, relax.”

You knew he was kidding, but your subconscious verified you’d never seen any fellow witches wearing a quartz necklace like that one.

“Why do you have it?” You asked him.

The archer finally sighed and let the hand holding the necklace drop at his side. “I’m not a stranger to magic.”

“Then why’d you burn this place down?” You challenged.

His gaze darkened as it averted from you, as though a phantom had slithered in front of him, freezing him with its presence.

“I had orders.”

The look he had in his brown eyes when he said the words wasn’t that of a man who’d followed them gladly. Then, when he finally looked at you again, seemingly snapping out of his trance, he held the quartz out again.

“The person who gave this to me said it’s for protection,” he said. “I…”

“You’re giving it to me?” You whispered.

He hesitated, looking away from you. “I guess I am.”

The archer then walked up to you and put the quartz in your hands, sealing your fingers around it. When he touched you, you felt the familiar heat, and you looked up at him with big eyes sparkling, suddenly compelled to embrace him, if only in gratitude.

He stared back at you, and you wondered if he felt the same.

“I have no desire to hurt you,” he broke the silence. “And that is why I’m begging you to leave now.”

You gave him a slow nod and turned around, and you were about to walk away before you stumbled to a stop, turning back to look at the archer one more time before telling him your name. His gaze fell on you again when you said it, and you noticed a brief smile appear on his lips at the sound of it.

“Crosshair,” he responded with his own name.

You managed a soft smile back, pleased to finally know his name as well. But you also knew it would be best for you to leave, and you were in no position to take more risks. Finally, you turned around and, clutching the quartz in your hand, you disappeared into the forest.

Taglist: @coffeyorky @and-claudia @the-sith-in-the-sky-with-diamond @stardust9905 @stardustbee @misogirl828 @nunanuggets

[gaykarstaagforever]

1965

I'm not doing an analysis of this cover feature. The cover is 100% the "story," in which nothing remotely exciting happens.

They set themselves up to invent 1,000 years of exciting Superman history, and here is most of what the brilliant minds at DC came up with in 1965:

1) Superman and Lois have a son, and he is Superman II and has a son, who is Superman III. And this keeps happening exactly like this up to 2965, where there is another Superman. Who is notable only in that he is allergic to ocean water instead of kryptonite (?), and has slightly flatter hair than Kal-El.

2) In the distant future, everyone is still white, so enjoy that if you're awful, I guess. They also dress themselves exactly like...

...Okay, so imagine Mormons, but if they were all colorblind. And gay.

3) Everyone has a weird mispelled name with a string of numbers and letters after it. I guess because Space, or whatever.

4) The most significant new technological innovations in 1,000 years are people can somehow live on the gas giants now, and "Ultra-News". Which is just TV, but there's no screen, just a flat floating...screen...that can somehow be anywhere.

No they don't explain it.

No it isn't a 3D hologram. This is a comic from 1965. It's a goddamn color TV picture of a man reading the news on Mars that is yellow, that floats in front of your gay Mormon choir practice.

Don't get snippy with me. I didn't write this.

5) Judges and news editors have been relaced with giant terrifying computers that scream everything. And brag about how smart they are, and call you names. So I'm not sure why they bothered with that.

...Granted, this WAS written in 1965, when only like 6 people had ever seen an actual computer. And all of those machines were entire floors of buildings that roared like hydroelectric dam turbines, and could only do basic math very slowly. We're the ones with the future techno brains of 2024, and we've taught servers to lie to us and steal IP, which we then put in charge of customer support and art.

Win 1 for the people of 1965, I suppose

6) There are no jails in 2965. Criminals get sentenced to a 10+ years dose of Slow-Down Ray and then released. They can still care for themselves and be productive citizens, but will be "too slow" to get away with any more crimes.

...In a universe that 1,000 years earlier already had superheroes and aliens and robots and rays that could do crime-stopping at light-speed.

I guess it would too big of an ask to expect the 1965 DC writers to actually read any of the previous stories they'd written.

The "story" ends with the current Superman about to date the woman who will inevitably give birth to the next Superman. So give up, it is doomed to go on like this for eternity, apparently.

Unlike DC's Bob Hope comic, which only lasted 18 years. Though that also got pretty lame and confusing.

[swamp-spirit]

Disability Serving Non-Disability Stories

I was replying to a post about what mobility device narrative things make us happiest, and it got me thinking about what I like in rep in general, and I was thinking my absolute favorite thing is disability serving the story. My least favorite feeling is that the narrative has screeched to a halt to Do A Representation, and most of the scenes that have really made me feel seen did so because they were damn good writing that was specific and tender and raw.

This isn’t the Right Way to Do Disability, and I think writing good character and story beats using disability involves doing a lot of research first, but here’s some ways authors can use disability to serve a different narrative.

Setting Up the Chess Board

One of the tricks of running a tabletop game is giving the players choices, but making sure those choices always go somewhere interesting. Rather than having the informant at the tavern and the players missing out because they went to the park, you can have the informant appear in the place where the players do. You reshape the world to fit what your players establish. This can also work when writing alone. If one of your characters can’t get up stairs and you want them in the scene... you can simply choose not to add stairs. However, if you want to get them alone... whoops, there’s the stairs. Or maybe they have to go the long way to the elevator and get stuck alone with their romantic interest. Maybe they decide to kill some time checking out a room everyone walked past on their way to the second floor and find the second clue or break the elevator on purpose for an excuse to meet their informant. Having a disability in a society that doesn’t support you can be hard and inconvenient, so show that! Have the girl in a wheelchair have to take the accessible entrance through the crowded kitchen or have to skip the historical tour, but instead of making it a tragedy of disability, use it. You’re a writer and this is your world, so use the barriers to steer us directly into the most exciting version of the story.

Painting Relationships Between People

There are some people who notice when I’m getting tired before I do and encourage me to sit down. There are some people who love me very much, but don’t notice when I’m getting tired until I collapse. There are some people who assume I’m faking collapsing for attention. There are some people who just don’t care. There are people who will walk away when I get a concussion and people who won’t leave me alone when I tell them I’m fine and would like privacy. All of these paint an aspect of our relationships. There is intimacy and romance in knowing how to care for somebody, in knowing the little tells that they’re in pain, of offering to do the tasks that will help them most. There can also be overbearing suffocation, not allowing somebody independence. There can be both in the same relationship. Putting a prosthetic leg in a sex scene can be a great moment to show how these characters communicate around taboo subjects, to show whether they’re awkward or relaxed, considerate or callous, if they’re the type to crack jokes about it, and whether those jokes are welcome. When the cashier looks past the person in the wheelchair to their partner, does their partner redirect their attention? Ignore it and complete the transaction? Push their partner aside? Make the situation awkward to make a point? Blow up at the cashier? If they blow up, is the person in the wheelchair flattered or pissed to have somebody lose their temper on their behalf? It’s not about showing a good or bad partner. What’s overbearing to one person might be sweet to another. What’s hilarious to one person might be callous to another. It’s just a great chance to show how people interact, how they handle intimacy and vulnerability and power.

Painting Relationships with Ourselves 

I’ve always thought people are most interesting when you push them to extremes, and disability can fucking push. It can drive you into debt. It can make you wake up in pain every day. It can force you to accept more help than you can offer. It can take your plans or your self image and dash it across the rocks. You can lose friends and lovers and hobbies and feel like the world doesn’t have a place for people like you. I’m of the opinion that stories about the really gutting parts of this are best left to disabled authors. Going from abled to disabled, it’s easy to feel trapped and helpless, but most disabled people still lead joyful, meaningful lives. Damn fiction can make you feel otherwise. It can make you feel like becoming disabled means your life is now a tragedy, that the worst of the grief and anger will define every aspect of your life forever. I think really digging into that pain is best done by people with real experience, not lurid imagination. That said, those pushes are a great time to explore a character. Disability can steal the core of your identity, and, besides the grief, there’s a question. Who am I if I’m not that? Instead of just showing a loss, you can let your characters find answers. You can explore how a character reacts to vulnerability, in expressing pain and needing help.You can show how they respond to not having the skills society values. Do they internalize it? Fight back? Ignore it, confident in their own passions and value? Do they see the problem as with themselves or with a society that fails to accomadate them?

Disability as Worldbuilding

One of the most moving things to me is a report of ancient burial sites, lovingly made, for people who would have needed care to survive. How a society cares for those that cannot ‘contribute‘, or supports those with less common needs, in my opinion, shows the core of a society’s heart. To be clear this one can get gross fast and make disabled people tragedy props or feel good examples. The core of this is it coming from the view of characters, letting it be a background part of their lives. Even in the real world, you can use it to show parts of a country’s structure most readers might now know (either because they live somewhere/when else, or because they don’t know about disability rights), but it can also paint a community, how an individual town cares for it’s members, and whether it does it with genuine care, exhausted martyrdom, or condescending self-righteousness. And don’t just think of things in terms of support, think of what disability means. People are uncomfortable around visible disability, and they’re even more uncomfortable because everyone is only one accident or diagnosis away from being disabled too. A lot of religions and cultures have created narratives to alleviate this pain. Disability happens to bad people via god’s judgement. All disability is a result of a badly lived life, or the mother’s badly lived life, or the previous incarnation. Or maybe a test that can be passed or failed! The treatment of disability often reflects cultural anxieties and narratives, especially when we talk about how class and gender effect disability. What disabilities are considered ‘worse‘, or even what’s considered a disability at all, changes based on the society. I personally consider, for example, many characters who are unable to use magic or sci-fi tech as ‘disabled‘ rather than just metaphorically disabled. But this also gets into issues of what a society values and scorns. A highly militarized society will have a very different view of a man with a slight limp than a society who sees scholarship as the height of male achievement. The treatment of disabilities reflects societies priorities and who those priorities apply to.

Like many other aspect’s of a person’s life, disability is something that exists in interaction with the world around it. The best moments, in my opinion, come from writers who has sat with that and figured out exactly what that means for their character, as a person in the world, and has done the research to really understand what rings true.

[archiveikemen]

Abe no Yasuchika Main Story — Chapter 18

I do not own any of the Ikemen Series content being uploaded on this blog, everything belongs to CYBIRD. Please support them by downloading and playing their games.

read this before interacting with my posts

Yoritomo grinned.

Yoritomo: Come on out and lend me a hand — demon fox.

A roaring fire with blue flames emerged and engulfed Kazuha and Futaba.

When it disappeared without a sound, what was left behind were two charred hitogata lying on the floor.

Tamamo: Even an arrogant man like you would beg me, Yoritomo.

Yuno: Tamamo…!

Tamamo appeared and waved his hand nimbly.

Tamamo: I missed you so much that I came to personally pick you up, Yuno.

Yasuchika: — You’re here too, Tamamo.

Yasuchika: You’re as good at disguise as ever. I didn't even notice your presence.

Tamamo: I don't feel flattered by your compliment at all…

Tamamo: And I hate that you’re in my way.

With a snap of Tamamo’s fingers, a fog appeared and created some kind of smokescreen between us and Yasuchika.

Tamamo: You two can leave first, Yuno and Yoritomo.

Tamamo: I know what sort of tricks this man has up his sleeves, so I can at least hold him up.

Yoritomo: Understood. Tamamo, you return once you’re done here.

Tamamo: Of course. I’m looking forward to tonight’s dinner.

Yuno: Thank you… Tamamo.

Yoritomo led me by the hand and we ran through the hallways.

Yoritomo: Get on.

Yuno: Okay!

Waiting for us at the back of the mansion was not an oxcart, but a horse.

It was obvious that Yoritomo was prepared for the worst case scenario.

Riding on Yoritomo’s horse in front of him, I looked back and watched as the mansion eventually went out of sight.

Yuno: What’s… going to happen now?

Yoritomo: I have secretly gathered troops in neighboring countries just in case.

Yoritomo: But I had to keep it low to avoid being noticed.

Yoritomo: Now we’re going to meet the troops and wait for Tamamo’s return.

Yuno: Oh…

I took a deep breath to get rid of my anxiety and sadness.

(Everyone has started making their moves. The least I can do is to give my best.)

(I won’t regret this.)

Yuno: I’ll prepare some medicine and bandages for the war once we arrive at camp.

Yoritomo: You… you’ve grown a lot tougher.

Yuno: Hm?

Yoritomo: When we confirmed that Yasuchika was an enemy, I was honestly prepared to no longer have any use for you.

Yoritomo: And yet, earlier on… you decided to fight Yasuchika despite feeling at your worst.

Yoritomo: Even now, I can tell that you’re holding back your tears by sheer willpower.

(... I really can't hide anything from Yoritomo.)

Yuno: I may not always choose the “correct” path.

Yuno: I’ve made tons of bad decisions that resulted in myself getting hurt… but nevertheless, I want to be proud of myself for making those decisions and getting to where I am today.

(Even if all those words of affirmation Yasuchika said to me were lies.)

Yoritomo: — I see.

Yoritomo: You became a better woman while we were apart.

Yoritomo: How ironic. Living in Kyoto really sparked a change in you.

Yuno: … Is that so?

Yuno: Then I’m glad I didn't suffer for nothing.

Yoritomo: Indeed, and I can assure you on that.

Yoritomo: You should be proud of yourself, Yuno.

Yuno: Thank… Thank you.

There was a large gaping hole in my heart.

I kept moving forward, knowing that there was a chance that hole would never be filled again.

I believed that as long as I had my friends who trusted me… that unrequited love would burn into ashes.

…

We were greeted at the Shogunate’s camp…

Morinaga: Yuno! Lord Yoritomo!

(Morinaga!)

Yoritomo: You’ve worked hard.

Seeing Morinaga’s tall figure rush towards us made my heart feel warm.

Morinaga: I was so worried. I’m glad you’re both safe and sound.

Morinaga: Long time no see, Yuno.

Yuno: Yeah, long time no see… Morinaga.

Morinaga: I heard that you did an amazing job.

Yuno: Not really… I couldn't contribute much despite living with Yasuchika to investigate him.

Yoritomo: It's not easy to decipher all of Kyoto’s moves. Every piece of information you gave us was vital.

Yoritomo: With your tiny bits of information, Kagetoki can piece them together to create a bigger clue. You did your best, and that's enough.

Morinaga: Lord Yoritomo is right. Even Kagetoki was praising your efforts, and he rarely does that.

(I wish I could've done more.)

Yuno: Have Shigehira and Kagetoki been well?

Morinaga: Of course.

Morinaga: Actually, Shigehira has been worried about you this entire time. But if I call him out for it, he’s quick to deny it.

Tamamo: And of course I was worried about Yuno too.

(Oh!)

Tamamo: I’m back.

His long hair fluttering in the wind, Tamamo arrived on horseback.

Yoritomo: Did it go well?

Tamamo: Of course it did. Who do you think I am?

Yuno: Tamamo… I’m so glad you’re safe.

I heaved a sigh of relief.

Yoritomo: Shigehira and Kagetoki are keeping their eyes on the Rebel Army’s movements. They will deploy reinforcements if necessary.

Yoritomo: Morinaga, what's the current situation?

Morinaga: Our troops have been deployed to form an ambush around the anti-Shogunate faction.

Morinaga: However, our key figure, “His Majesty”, managed to escape.

(They must be referring to Akihito. But why “His Majesty”...?)

Morinaga: This is confidential information, but—

Morinaga: Our soldiers reported back saying that when “His Majesty” commanded them to stop moving, their bodies instantly felt heavy as if they had frozen.

Morinaga: Also… there was a blonde man who was alongside “His Majesty”, and he possessed supernatural powers.

Yuno: … Ibuki.

(I remember he told me to think of him as a sorcerer from a foreign country for simplicity’s sake.)

Tamamo: I know that man.

Yuno: What?

Tamamo: Shuten Doji — the 1200 year old Demon King.

Yuno: Demon!?

Tamamo: While I was at Yasuchika’s mansion, I found traces of a familiar magic power.

Yoritomo: A demon living in the Abe Clan’s mansion? That’s wild.

(No wonder I didn't suspect anything.)

Yuno: I can’t believe Ibuki’s an ayakashi.

Yoritomo: Yasuchika’s other housemate is a rather big guy too.

Yoritomo: Sutoku – Akihito. The former emperor.

Yoritomo: However, he’s supposed to be dead.

(What the…)

(— He’s a living spirit.)

Yuno: I heard that Lord Akihito was sealed in the Abe Clan’s mansion, which led to him becoming a living spirit.

I hesitantly told them the stories about his past that I had heard from Yasuchika and Ibuki.

(I don’t like talking out of turn… but I can’t keep silent any longer.)

Yoritomo: There are rumors that Emperor Sutoku died while spreading a curse all over Japan.

Yoritomo: I always thought that those were mere superstitions, but it seems that they're real.

Morinaga: So that's who “His Majesty” is.

(I had the feeling Akihito was of noble birth, but I didn't expect him to be of THAT kind of noble birth.)

(... And of course, Yasuchika and the others kept this important detail from me.)

Tamamo: Based on my judgment, Ibuki has made a deal with Sutoku.

Yuno: …!

Tamamo: I’m certain that His Majesty has the power of an ayakashi.

Tamamo: The traces of Ibuki’s powers lingering in that mansion were a little different.

Tamamo: I’ve never heard of such a thing before, but…

Tamamo: The curse Sutoku was born with must have altered Ibuki’s powers, because their souls are connected.

Yuno: So… Lord Yoshitsune and I aren't the only ones who’ve made a deal with an ayakashi.

Yoritomo: What type of powers does Ibuki have?

Tamamo: Lightning. And because he’s a demon, he also has incredible strength.

Tamamo: On top of that, Ibuki is a heartless demon who finds joy in mentally torturing human beings.

Tamamo: His powers being weakened by the deal doesn't make him any less troublesome.

Yoritomo: Hah, that’s good news.

Even in times like this, Yoritomo’s fake laugh felt assuring.

Yoritomo: Our spies will continue to monitor the movements of Ibuki and His Majesty.

Yoritomo: Tomorrow, I will lead an army into Kyoto and seize control of the Imperial Court.

Yoritomo: We’ll call it… freeing the Imperial Court from the hands of their evil ruler “Sutoku”.

Morinaga: So the plan is to gain the support of the anti-Sutoku faction in the Imperial Court.

Yoritomo: As long as we are the writers of the story, I don't care who the characters are.

Yoritomo: But the Shogunate will definitely be the main characters.

The determined look in Yoritomo’s eyes instantly made everyone feel motivated.

(He's the polar opposite of Yasuchika.)

(Yasuchika’s eyes sometimes look empty, and sometimes they seem to be filled with darkness.)

There was a stabbing pain in my heart when I recalled the final icy gaze he gave me before we parted.

(I can't let myself get distracted. I have things to do.)

After the military council meeting, I spent some time going around the camp.

While I was gathering herbs to prepare for tomorrow…

(Huh?)

Suddenly, the moon was covered and an ominous darkness loomed over me.

???: It’s been a while, Young Lady.

Doman: I was right, wasn't I? Yasuchika turned out to be a traitor.

Yuno: … Ashiya Doman.

A man with masculine features who looked neither young nor old stood before me.

Doman: That man would kill all of your friends without hesitation if it meant that he would achieve his goals.

Doman: Don’t you think you’ll need another weapon besides your fox powers?

I glanced down at the item he held out… it was the dagger he showed me that day.

(It's a cursed object capable of taking Yasuchika’s powers away.)

I suppressed my fear and looked straight at Doman.

Yuno: But why me?

Doman: Being able to easily spot someone's weakness is what makes me a brilliant tactician.

Yuno: Are you saying that I’m Yasuchika’s weakness? If yes, then you're wrong.

(Yasuchika even attacked me today.)

Doman: Oh really? But too bad.

Doman: I’ve already made you the rightful owner of this dagger, and its curse won’t work if not in the hands of its owner.

The dagger drifted to me in the air and suddenly dropped,

(Wah…)

I reflexively reached out to catch it.

Yuno: I don't want to—

Doman: If you don't want to do it, then just keep the dagger and don't use it.

Doman: It's haress if not used by you. If you don't believe me, go ahead and ask that nine-tailed fox.

(I know better than anyone else that my abilities alone aren't enough to defeat Yasuchika.)

Yuno: What is your motive? Why do you so badly want Yasuchika dead?

Yuno: Yasuchika is not Abe no Seimei whom you have a feud with.

Doman: Blood is thicker than water. Yasuchika is the Abe Clan’s magnum opus, of course I hate him.

Doman: And that mindset he has… it makes me want to defeat him and swallow him whole.

Yuno: Mindset…?

Doman: It's the same for everyone who practices yin-yang magic.

Doman: Only when one sacrifices everything except themselves, that they can grow more powerful.

Yuno: … But I think yin-yang magic is an amiable force used to help others in need.

Doman: That's your false perception of it.

Doman: Is that how Yasuchika always behaved in front of you?

Doman: Wow, it really runs in the family.

While I stood at a loss for words, Doman gave a crooked smile.

Doman: Anyway, I don't have much time to waste.

Yuno: Huh?

Morinaga: Hey! Yuno!

Yuno: Morina—

The moment I got distracted…

(Doman… disappeared.)

Morinaga approached me and tilted his head curiously.

Morinaga: What’s up with that dagger, Yuno?

(Erm.)

Yuno: It's a long story… I’ll tell you another time.

Yuno: Did you need something?

Morinaga’s face turned serious.

Morinaga: We managed to locate Sutoku… I mean His Majesty.

Yuno: …! Where is he?

Morinaga: He has formed an alliance with the Rebel Army.

(What the—)

…

Akihito: The supreme commander himself took the trouble to travel all the way to Kyoto, hm.

Yoshitsune: You’re a lot better at escaping than you look… Your Majesty.

[linewalkers]

Hallo! I'm so glad you're coming back to your works! I'm pretty sure I've mentioned this in two previous messages as an anon, but I adore the way you write and how clear cut and organised your works are! It's so easy to feel how much you love writing!

Thank you so much for inspiring me to keep writing and get better at it! You're amazing :D

Looking forward to your next chapter, and sending a TON of affection and support <33

Hello, anon =) Thank you very much for your lovely message. It came in while I had a bad moment, and it really cheered me up. <3

Writing is my passion, and the one thing that makes me feel complete. I am delighted to hear that it can be felt - and very flattered that you feel inspired by it! :-) I won't say something like "Keep going, and you will improve soon" because this will a) sound stuck-up b) I don't think "improvement" should be a main goal of writing. It's an art - and a way to express yourself. So, instead, I wish you a great deal of imagination and - above all - fun!

If you don't mind me sharing something that I consider very helpful when I write my stories:

Always be there. Not detached in front of your screen, but inside your story.

Stand with your characters, watch them, and feel with them.

If you can actually imagine standing inside the abandoned room with a creaking wooden floor and wind howling through the shattered, dirt-stained window as a full moon illuminates the starless sky, it will be much easier to describe the chilly unease slowly creeping up inside them.

Best wishes, Alex

[princelyhelp]

Ooooooo share the webcomics you have the best taste

you flatter me!!! and yes, ofc!! so this list is gonna be a combo of webcomics AND mangas because I've started reading new mangas that deserve love and attention as well. unlike my previous list, many of these webcomics and mangas may be nsfw, I'll mark the ones that are like that. also, i won't be including links for these because i don't want to spread the website that i use because it's illegal. but you should be able to find all of these if you entire the titles into google!

Semantic Error by Jeosuri, NSFW: i talk about this nonstop and i think my friends are tired of me talking about it. probably the best enemies to friends to lovers piece i've ever read. the build up to them getting along is paced perfectly in my opinion, the developing of feelings is also great, AND THERE'S A KDRAMA?!? yeah, yeah, read it. yeah please

The Night Beyond the Tricornered Window by Yamashita Tomoko: I never cried so much until I read this manga. like, i was honestly on the FLOOR reading this!! starts off nice and simple before evolving into this giant mess of a thing that shatters your heart. has a cult in it and handles the trauma around it fairly well ( or at least i think so ). the whole topic of trauma is just beautifully written, had me shaking towards the end. i'm still shaking and i finished reading it last week.

Shutline by Kyo Woo, NSFW: now hear me out,,,,, this webcomic??? TOP TIER!!! BABY!!! it's about a gang leader who meets a mechanic and y'all,,,,, this shit has me losing my marbles everytime i read it. shit is wild LIKE TRULY.

Cat Street by Kamio Yoko: written by the woman who made hana yori dango ( boys over flower ) and i promise you!! this is actually good!! LIKE REALLY GOOD!!! deals with a teenager who exiles herself from the entire world after an embarrassing moment that happened as a child. a story about finding yourself, meeting new people, and falling in love with a childhood passion. def my comfort manga.

Jibaku Shounen Hanako-Kun by Aida Iro: i saw a lot of people reading it on youtube and honestly,,, i should've minded my fucking business!! because this damn manga is so sad, like, my heart was breaking while reading it. one of those stories that starts off really cute and sweet before unfolding into this massive plot that has you screaming every chapter.

The Taming of the Shrew by Biai: yes, like Shakespeare's TOTS, follows the same plot but also has its differences. actually really good and Kat is a swordswoman <3 and Petruchio is a major simp. please read it because i loved it so much

As You Wish, Prince by Mokgamgi: TOP TIER!! BEAUTIFUL!!! IN LOVE!!! a writer is kidnapped by the villain of her series because he's upset of how she's written him and made him into this total failure and laughing stock of the kingdom. turns out that he's actually a good guy!! and her heroes??? TOTAL TRASH!! it's completed too so no need to worry about a next update

Red Candy by Hanse, NSFW: idk what's with me and undercover stories,,,, but i love it. a spy who has to pretend to be his target's boyfriend. really good and there's like so many levels to it. corrupt spy organization, major daddy issues, has me on the floor sobbing. i'm just a softie.

Yubisaki to Renren by Suu Moorishita: MY GOD!!! BEAUTIFUL ART!!! BEAUTIFUL WRITING!!! the MC is a hearing-impaired woman and it's genuinely written properly. like the author worked hard to make this very accurate to the community and is careful in capturing JSL ( japanese sign language ). like yes the romance but also!! THE REPRESENATION IN THIS!!! PLEASE READ IT!!!

Tiger, Tiger by Petra Erika Nordlund, NSFW: someone actually recommended this to me and i read it in one sitting. the art style is top tier, in LOVE with the MC and her future husband. the storytelling and world building has me H O O K E D!! please give it a read and make sure to support the author.

Other webcomic and manga recs: Jujutsu Kaisen, Wotaku ni Koi wa Muzukashi, Runway Hit, Skip to Loafer, Kieta Hatsukoi, Honey Lemon Soda, Love Tractor, Akatsuki no Yona, When the Killer Falls in Love, Actually I was the Real One, Kill the Lights, Here U Are, Spy x Family, Blue Period, Hertz Around You, Raise Wa Tanin Ga Ji, Crush and Burn, Megane, Tokidoki, Yankee-Kun ( all one name ), Fools, This Uncle Likes Cute Things, Program Me, Never Understand

[imaginemalereader]

Anonymous request: Imagine being a firefighter and developing a crush on Kelly Severide

The first time you met Kelly was on a call that his station wasn’t even meant to be at. It had fallen just inside your station’s zone but 51 had been nearby so they ended up helping you out. It was a car crash, nothing you hadn’t seen before but working with him you were immediately impressed. You teamed up to extract one of the drivers and it was not only his strength but his ability to keep the victim calm that stood out. And his pretty face certainly didn’t hurt either.

Later you found yourself hoping your paths would cross again. You knew of course that in your line of work that rarely meant good news but you couldn’t help yourself. He had caught your eye and now you couldn’t get him out of your head.

You got your wish a week later. A structure fire, 12th story of a building got both your stations on the call. Kelly recognized you, much to your surprise and pleasure, and specifically requested your help clearing the building. You were flattered of course and extremely grateful that working in the heat meant your blush was hidden by your already sweaty face.

“Good to be working with you again.” Kelly said as the two of you climbed the stairs.

“Yeah, good to work with you again too. You’re impressive.” You said. Kelly turned to you and you quickly added, “All of you at 51, I’ve heard good things and seeing you in action really shows it.”

Kelly nodded, smirking a little though you didn’t notice since you were too busy trying to backpedal.

“Thank you. Everyone’s pretty great there.”

“I’ve noticed that.”

Kelly smiled at you and this time you noticed it. Once you made it up to the floor, you switched into work mode. Kelly once again impressed you. He was so good at his job and damn he looked good doing it to. After clearing the floor with only a couple hiccups, the two of you made it back to the ground.

“Good work, both of you.” Chief Boden complimented. You nodded your head in thanks. “If you ever want to transfer, seems like you and Severide make a good team.”

Your eyes widened and Kelly looked over at you and winked. Thank god for your labor intensive work or your blush would be so evident. You smiled and thanked the chief again, assuring him he’d be your first consideration.

Another week later you got your third run in with Kelly and you were starting to feel like the universe was pushing you together. 

“Hey [Y/N],” Kelly greeted with a smile, “how do you feel about rappelling?”

He pointed up the building where the car that had shot off the freeway had wedged itself. Sometimes physics and human stupidity amazed you.

“I think I can handle it.”

“Great. You’re on the roof with me.” He said before giving out instructions to the rest of squad. 

You two headed up to the roof and he helped you get harnessed in. The proximity was not lost on you as he helped hook you in and adjust the straps. You walked down the building, Kelly holding the rope to lower you down. This was going to be a rough one.

You worked to the best of your ability, keeping the driver as calm as possible given the circumstances and trying to get him out of the precarious car. You had him loose when you heard, and felt, the car beginning to slip. Knowing it was now or never, you carefully but unceremoniously tugged him out the window and into the waiting arms of Cruz and Cap who had made it into the building.

“Kelly, out!” You called out.

The car slipped and for a moment you were falling with it but then you felt your rope go taut as Kelly caught you and began pulling you back. He pulled you up to the top and caught you as you stumbled over the ledge, heart still pounding from the adrenaline.

“Good work. Really good work.” He said, wrapping an arm around you and helping support you as you regained your footing.

“Thank you Kelly.” You managed between breaths.

“You know I’ve got you.” He assured you. You smiled at those words.

Having had enough of the universe yelling at you, you headed over to 51 after your shift a couple days later and were glad to see Kelly there.

“Finally gonna come transfer to the best house?” He asked.

“And be stuck with you all the time? Pass.” You teased.

The other guys laughed and Kelly had to smile too.

“Can we talk?” You asked, implying your desire for privacy.

“Course. Follow me.” 

He led you down the hall to a room and shut the door.

“What’s up?”

“I’ve really liked working with you and I think you’re an amazing firefighter but I can’t transfer here. I think I’d rather go on a date with you than work with you.”

Kelly had no poker face. He broke out into a broad grin.

“You know I think I’d like that better too.”

[scarlettriot]

Along for the Ride PT 1

Pairing: KirishimaxF!Reader

Summary: A drunken mistake had you marking the little Plus One box to your snobby cousin's wedding. Kirishima told you not to worry, if you couldn't find a date, he'd go with you. When the wedding gets moved up, there's absolutely no time to find a date and you're now about to be traveling to America with Kirishima on a private jet no less, dreading having him meet your rude and impossibly arrogant family.

Contains: Kirishima and Reader both come from very well-off families. Plus-Sized Reader. Fluff. Hurt/Comfort.

Warnings: Kinda smutty for a minute. Minors DNI. Drunken Sex. TW: Manipulative Family Relationships. TW: Body Image Issues

A/N: This story has been rolling around in my head for a while now. I might rewrite this and repost. Or I might just post the whole thing soon. I dunno yet. It does get smuttier.

Word Count: 4,974

"What's up with Y/N?"

Eijiro stepped out of the locker room with a towel slung over his shoulder and made his way into the kitchenette where Mina was chugging a bottle of water before getting back to her patrol. His eyes were trained on their mutual friend out on the patio, pacing.

You had your phone pressed to your ear, the high neck of your hero costume unzipped to your collarbone and he noticed your gloves discarded on a chair.

"No clue." Mina shrugged. "She got back from patrol and she noticed a bunch of missed calls from her mom. She's been out there, flailing on the phone for the last fifteen minutes now."

The three of you had met in your second year at UA when you transferred into their class and were quickly accepted by their little squad of friends. You were a bit quiet at first but quickly found comfort in the group. Eijiro had grown especially close to you when you both interned with Fat Gum.

Late nights traveling on the train back to school, a few close calls while helping patrol, and days spent playing cards while you both healed up in the hospital left plenty of time for Eijiro to get to know you better than most. It was how he knew you had a pretty bad relationship with your family, why you hated returning home for the holidays almost as much as you hated any and all forms of tomatoes.

He considered going out there just to see if there was anything he could do but before he had the chance, you were sliding the glass door open. "Oh, good, you're back." He offered you a bottle of water for your throat that he assumed was sore after that argument. "I- um- can I borrow you for a second? Alone?"

Mina snorted a laugh. "If you guys wanna bang it out on the counter you can just say so. I gotta go to work anyways."

Eijiro threw the towel at her as she left the room leaving you two alone. "What's goin' on?"

You hoisted yourself up on the countertop while he leaned against the fridge. "You remember my cousin's wedding that's happening this winter?"

He nodded. He vividly remembered the both of you getting waste a few weeks ago when you were filling out the RSVP and accidentally marking 'plus one'. Then you ran around trying to find White Out but he'd told you if you didn't find a date or have a significant other by the time of the wedding, he'd just go with you.

You argued that your family was bat shit crazy, had more money than they could spend in their lifetime and because of that, they were among some of the rudest people you knew, and you didn't want Eijiro or anyone else around that.

The thing was, Eijiro already knew that and was still okay with going. He came from money too. A lot of it. His family was just more welcoming than yours, the wealth never really going to their heads. But, he reminded you that he'd ran into enough people like those in your family that he knew how to handle them. You finally agreed to let him accompany you, leaving the plus one box checked but the name line blank.

"Well, my cousin just found out that surprise, she's pregnant! And, obviously, she can't have a wedding while seven months along so they've decided to move the wedding up to this weekend."

He nearly choked on his own spit. "This weekend? As in four days from now?"

"Yup! Saturday at 4 in the evening. Oh! No one's supposed to know she's pregnant either. So, I'm just supposed to compliment her on how flattering her dress looks, how thin she is," Your hands strangled the water bottle between them, "And I have to find something flattering to my figure because my mother has seen me in my hero outfit and she's so glad I wear a mask because if anyone knew her daughter ran around looking like I do, well, it'd ruin her!"

You massaged your temples circling back to the actual point, "Anyways, I just wanted to bitch for a sec and let you know you're off the hook since four days is just a little short notice and I told her my plus one wouldn't be able to get the time off that fast."

He pushed off the fridge. "Well, wait, hang on! I'm not letting you go in alone to deal with them! Hell no! You need backup!" You looked almost taken aback by his abruptness, "Yeah. I can work this out. Is the wedding at the same place it was supposed to be or has it moved?"

"No, it's still that fancy lodge in California. I was planning on leaving Friday morning and then coming back either Sunday night or Monday morning since my mother insists I go to their brunch the following day. But, Eijiro, I already have this weekend off..."

"Denki owes me a favor or twelve. He's supposed to be off this weekend too, I'll just see if he can cover me."

"And if he can't?"

"Then..." He pressed the back of his hand to his forehead, "Y/N, am I feeling warm to you? I think I might be starting a fever!"

You folded your arms, shaking your head, "Thought you said lying isn't manly."

"Technically, correct. But, what would be real unmanly is for me to let you deal with your family's bullshit all alone." You watched him closely, "To be honest, I'm sure we could just explain you had a family thing come up and asked me to come along for moral support. I don't really think anyone would think twice about it. Hell, you took a few days off to console me when my turtle died suddenly!"

"Eiji, you refused to eat."

"And you brought me my favorite dumplings! Same thing!"

You might have shaken your head at him but your arms opened wide. The telltale sign you wanted affection. He walked forward, consuming you in a tight hug. Your arms latched around his neck, face buried in the hollow of his throat. "You're the best."

"I just do what I can."

>>><<<

You should have canceled. Instead of Eijiro faking sick to get out of work, you should have faked it with your mother so you didn't have to go in the first place. You crumpled to the floor of your bedroom in pure frustration amidst the twenty or so outfits and dozen pairs of shoes you'd thrown out of your closet trying to find something that your mother would deem appropriate.

It wasn't your fault you had a fuller figure. You worked out, ate right, not to mention your job kept you very active, and yet your, hips, ass, and breasts were by no means subtle.

Your mother had also insisted on the dress being floor-length and modern, "Do try not wearing all black. It's a wedding, not a funeral. And, get your hair looking natural, please." And, just like that, 70% of your wardrobe was out the window!

"It's open!" You called from the floor when the doorbell rang.

"You really should lock this." Mina tutted, walking through the door with a bag full of takeout.

"I do. At night."

"Honey, it's 9 PM."

"Night like bedtime."

Mina just rolled her eyes and walked into your tiny kitchen. "I see the dress hunt is going well."

"I actually figured it out!" You got off the floor, careful not to step on a heel as you made your way to the pink haired woman, "I'm just gonna go in my birthday suit. I figured, my mother made my body technically therefore she can't disapprove of it. Because, you know, she's never done anything wrong in her life!"

Your best friend snorted out a laugh and passed you the take-out container stuffed full of stir fry. "you're a wonderful person, you know that?" You loved the fact Mina didn't even have to ask what you wanted.

"If you'd just move closer to work then you could pick it up yourself and I wouldn't have to bring it to you."

"Too expensive." You declared after a mouthful. "You pay almost twice as much as I do per month and I just don't see the point. I have damn near the same amount of space you do for half the cost!"

You adored your small one-bedroom apartment. It was perfect. Right above a bakery that you visited each morning after your run and a little balcony that provided you with the most stunning view of the sunset.

"You and Kiri, I swear." Mina just shook her head and curled up with her food on the loveseat. "I thought he'd end up with the biggest house out of us all the moment we started making that real Pro money. You've seen his parent's house. It's massive! You could get lost in that place!"

Eijiro's place was barely bigger than your own. He lived in the same condo he had since you'd graduated UA, claiming it was perfect for him in each and every way. But, you knew that he donated a sizable amount of his paycheck every month to charities, the same as you. With savings to spare, neither of you saw the point in hoarding it and therefore the small condo was all he could afford with what he actually kept.

"Just don't understand how a guy that big can live in such a tiny little space. At least with you, it's you know, physically feasible."

Eijiro's bedroom was barely large enough to fit the king-sized bed the man needed to sleep comfortably and even then, his feet were dangerously close to dangling off the bed. And, as if the man's ears were burning, your cell phone went off under a pile of discarded shoes.

Shark-E: Figured out your dress situation? If not, I'm just gonna pack like ten different ties and hope for the best.

You: Yeah! I totally did! I'm just gonna wear this birthday suit I got and call it a night.

You chuckled at your own joke all over again. Watching the grey ellipses appear and then vanish, appear and vanish again. After a third time, you took pity on the man.

You: Joking, Ei. I still don't have it figured out but Mina's over so, hopefully, she can help.

Shark-E: Gonna give me a damn heart attack! Seriously, I wouldn't put it past you just to see the look on your mom's face. Tell Mina hi and good luck to you. I vote the dress from the Hero Gala two years ago.

You: Hi from Mina. Can't. Too much boobs.

Shark-E: You take that back right now! There is NEVER such a thing as too much boobs!

You chuckled to yourself, putting your phone down, and then finished off the last of your delicious dinner, thinking about the dress Eijiro mentioned.

You wondered if maybe there was a way you could make the thing work but it was so very low cut. So much tape had been used to make sure no slips happened but damn was it worth it! The beaded bodice with the sparkling long sleeves, gods, how you loved that dress.

"I'm inclined to agree with our shark boy. You're busty, who gives a damn. You looked hot as hell in that dress."

"My mother, that's who. As much as I'd like to not give a flying fuck what she thinks, for some dumb reason, I do. On top of her telling me that the amount of cleavage I would show would be vastly inappropriate for a wedding, she'd also say the way it hugs my hips makes them look too fat."

Mina rolled her eyes. "She's such a piece of work." Pushing herself up, she held her arms out to you, wiggling little pink fingers for you to take. "Come on then. Let's get you sorted."

"What about that one you wore to the charity art thingy with Kyoka last winter? The one with the silver top."

"Silver is too close to white." You called out from within your closet.

"What! Not true!"

"You know that. I know that. Every person with two brain cells knows that, which is why most of my family does not know that."

"Fine..." She whined and started sifting through the opposite end of your closet. "Oh, what about this?" Mina waved about the blue and green plaid skirt that made up your uniform from your middle school days when you lived in America. "Please try this on. I'm begging!"

You were pretty sure it wouldn't even go over your thighs anymore.

"It's got a better chance of fitting you!"

Mina threw it at you anyway. Slipping off the sweats you wore, somehow, someway, you were able to tug it on AND get it zipped, barely. It no longer covered your ass but you still enjoyed the way it swished around when you wiggled your hips.

"You could be fulfilling so many people's fantasies right now." Mina mused.

You pulled the skirt off and sweats back on, throwing the former back at her. "Yeah, you can take it and go fulfill Hanta's fantasies if you like. Not like I've got anyone to impress." You pulled down a dress you bought on sale a year ago but Mina was quick to dismiss it.

Too puffy, she said and then held up one that was from Momo. "I needed to get it shortened and I don't have time for that now."

"Wait..." She hummed and dropped the Momo dress. "I know what it should be!"

Mina hurried through the closet, grumbling about not finding it. "Just tell me which dress and I can tell you where it's at."

"It's that one you got for grad night and then you got sick and couldn't go!"

"Mina, Mina I can't wear that! That's actual vintage, not like, made-to-look-vintage!"

"But it's so elegant and has that off-the-shoulder sleeve thing. The wedding is at a damn sky lodge! It'll look so pretty in the snow! Ah! Found it!"

She yanked up the long, elegant gown from the garment bag you'd never removed it from. There wasn't a single wrinkle in the burgundy fabric. It looked just as beautiful as the day you found it in that second-hand store, on a mannequin with gaudy stage jewels that you just had to buy so the look was complete.

You ran the back of your hand over the velvety fabric, soft to the touch. "It'll be too tight now. If I was the same size I was at graduation-"

"Bullshit!" Mina cut you off with a dismissive hand, "You've got hips now. We aren't 18 anymore! It's not like it's some clubbing dress. And I bet no one would say a damn thing about your figure if they knew how easily you could crush them with those thighs!"

A smirk tugged at the corner of your lips. Without quirks, you gave every single one of your classmates a run for their money in hand to hand. Most were fairly easy to beat. You could usually take down Eijiro in about five or six minutes and Katsuki in half the time. Funny enough, it was Ochaco that gave you the hardest time.

"I'll consider it. But help me find something else just in case."

>>><<<

It was another two hours before you finally agreed on an a-line, empire waist green and gold number that had been the bridesmaid's dresses for Tetsutetsu's wedding. Mina thought they were a crime the first time they had to wear them, she had no idea what you were thinking.

That's why the moment you were preoccupied with trying to find yet another dress for the Sunday brunch, Mina pulled out her phone.

You: DO NOT, under any circumstances, allow Y/N to wear the green dress. She's bringing two because she can't decide. Red is the winner!

Jaws: Aw, come on. If she likes it, let her wear whatever she's comfortable in. She'll be under enough stress already.

You: Kirishima, it's the dress from Tetsu's wedding. The one that looks sparkly baby food.

It took him a second to respond.

Jaws: Alright. Understood. I thought you guys looked good but damn, she hated that dress.

You: We all did.

Mina looked at the message chain again and couldn't help but asked, "Are we just gonna ignore the fact that you and Eiji are flying all the way to America, last minute, to attend a wedding together, even though you're not together?"

"We've flown to the states before."

"For work!" She sat up eagerly. "This is different, Y/N! This is a date and not just a, like, casual date but a wedding date!"

You poked your head out of the closet. "No, it isn't. This is a friend helping another friend who stupidly mismarked an RSVP." You corrected very plainly but Mina wasn't one to give up so easily.

She whined, dragging out your name, "You guys have been doing this thing for ages. Why do you have to be so stubborn about it all!"

"What's that supposed to mean!"

Mina started ticking off points on her fingers. "He was the first person you opened up to at UA. You saved his life when he was busy saving Katsuki's life second year. You spent all that time interning together, became sidekicks together. Went to America together for three whole months, ALONE, and you honestly expect me to think there's nothing between the two of you!"

The truth of it all was simple really; 17 year old you had a massive crush on Eijiro Kirishima. He was sweet, always listening to you, providing comfort when you needed it, and always encouraging you to push your limits. He was bright and honest, a little slow in the head from time to time but that made him all the more endearing.

He was also head over heels in love with Katsuki Bakugo.

It was why you never made a move. Never spoke a word of the feelings you harbored. You didn't dare to cross that line with him because you couldn't ever hold a candle to the explosive man.

In the three years Eijiro and Katsuki spent together, your brain finally started registering Eijiro as just a friend, nothing more, and certainly nothing less. You thought your heart had followed suit but it was becoming more and more apparent that wasn't the case. Because the night he showed up at your door, tears in his ruby eyes, every lock you put on your heart broke open.

The same way you couldn't hold a candle to Katsuki, Eijiro couldn't hold one to Izuku. You knew exactly what he was feeling even if you never intended to tell him. Too overcome with fear. If Katsuki came back... that'd be it. Eijiro would go back and you wouldn't even blame him!

Still, the redhead consumed a decent chunk of your heart though, you couldn't deny that after the three months you spent together in America, gathering intel on a smuggling ring, living in the same apartment. The groggy, 'good mornings' when his voice was still scratchy with sleep, hair falling in his eyes. The late nights bandaging wounds and killing cheap bottles of wine while watching terrible American reality shows.

It was those bottles of wine that did you in on your second to last night in America. Supplying you with courage and draining your sense of reason, allowing you to crawl onto his lap, into his arms. You could still remember the pressure of his lips on yours, those sharp teeth gently dragging along your lower lip.

Scared hands tracing the curve of your ass before taking handfuls to squeeze. The laugh that came from you was unlike anything you heard before, something so genuine that you couldn't reproduce.

How it felt when he lifted you up and took you to his bed, laying you down taking his time removing your clothes, and watching with awe as you pulled away his own. The way he looked over top of you, his hair a curtain of red around you just before you closed your eyes, gasping while he filled you.

You also remembered the guilt that crept into your head during the wee hours of the morning, the doubt that was louder than the snores coming from behind you.

It made you slip from under his massive arm, gather up your clothes from his floor, you tucked the blanket around him, and pressed a kiss to his temple before padding out of the room.

You told yourself you'd talk to him about it if he brought it up, but he never did. Not the next morning, or night, not on the plane ride back home, nor anytime since. It was a memory you'd hold close to your heart, one you wouldn't let slip away or share.

"There's nothing there, Mina. We're just good friends is all." You lied with a smile on your face, something that had become surprisingly easy to do.

If only you knew that Mina saw right through it. That Mina already knew the truth of it all.

>>><<<

It was nearly one in the morning when your phone rang. The goofy picture of Eijiro with face half painted at a festival a few years back never failed to make you grin.

"It's a little late." You answered by way of greeting.

"Don't pretend like you were anywhere close to sleeping, you little night owl."

Chuckling at the nickname that had followed you since high school, "What's up, Eiji?"

"I was going over flights. You said in the office that you wanted to leave on Friday?"

"Yeah. I have patrol tomorrow and I didn't find any flights after 6 PM so, Friday is the earliest."

He was quiet on the other line for a moment. "Yeah, you don't have patrol tomorrow, or work at all for that matter."

You sat up a bit straighter in bed. "Um, yes I do."

"No, you don't. I called Mina, asked her if you'd mind taking that shift for you and, since she knows what's happening, she agreed the extra day for travel would do you some good. So, she's covering you tomorrow then you're off work until next Wednesday. As for me, thanks to all that overtime I put in when Denki, Kyoka, and Hitoshi got married, the three of them are splitting up my days so I have until Wednesday too."

Eijiro sounded impossibly proud on the other line, you could almost see the smirk on his face. "You've got this all planned out, don't you?"

"And a bag nearly packed. Just need you to tell me what ties to bring."

"Gold, burgundy, and black."

"Thought your mom said no black for you?"

"She said no black for the wedding. She said nothing about black at the brunch!"

You couldn't wait to put on the tea-length dress that had been a favorite for years. Satin with a lacy top and, best of all, pockets.

He let out a rumbling laugh that fell off into comfortable silence as you laid back in your bed, lights still on, the room still a mess. You tapped the speaker icon and laid the phone on the pillow right beside your head, listing to the various sounds of Eijiro moving around.

A door creaking open, a hanger clattering against another, and a zipper. "And just like that, I'm all set."

"Don't forget your passport or hero license."

"I have one in my wallet and the other in my backpack."

You swiped up on your iPad, off Netflix, and going to google, lazily searching through flights. "So, did you find any good flights since you've clearly been looking?"

Another chuckle, "Eijiro, why are you laughing?" More stifled giggles had you sitting up in bed again. "Just tell me a site you were on. They're just flights, what's so funny?"

"There isn't a site."

"You said you were checking flights."

"And I was... on my family's jet."

"Eiji! No! No, no, no! That is supposed to be for their business or hero things! My stupid cousin's wedding is neither of those things!"

"Relax, Y/N. My family has multiple and they don't have any business trips planned right now anyways. I already cleared it with my mom. Seriously, I just mention your name and she's likely to let me have it for a whole year at least. Plus Todoroki's is back up in working order so the agency is covered too."

Damn, why'd he have to be so good at planning from time to time! You'd completely forgotten about the second jet his family had. Always opting for the larger one since the few missions they needed it for required them to bring fifty or so heroes along.

"Besides, if we fly private, we can land at an airstrip closer to the venue and won't need to drive four hours on top of a ten-hour flight."

"Alright, okay, thank you but, let me take care of the rental car, please. It's the least you can let me do."

"Deal. I just have one more question for ya."

"What's that?"

"Wanna leave tonight?"

You nearly dropped your damn iPad in shock. "Eijiro! What the fuck has gotten into you! It's the middle of the night!"

"I'm excited!" He boomed, "I haven't had a vacation in months!"

"I hate to break this to you, buddy, but this isn't going to be a vacation. You really shouldn't get your hopes up. This isn't going to be a good time with laughs and fun memories... my family, they just, they aren't those kinds of people."

"But we are." He stated matter-of-factly. "If they want to have sticks up their asses then let them! We'll have a good time on our own, laugh and make fun memories! So, what do you say, Y/N? I can be at your place in fifteen. I just gotta put shoes on and grab my keys..."

"Wait, hang on. Are you forgetting that we need someone to, oh, I dunno, FLY THE PLANE! Actually, we need two someone's, can't forget about a co-pilot!"

He hummed happily and you rubbed your temples. "You, you have a pilot and a co, don't you, Eiji?"

"Mhm! There is a company we use. Two can be at the hanger in an hour and every hour after that. I just have to make the call and get the flight plan approved which will be done before I even get to your house."

There was literally no reason to say no. You had mostly everything packed, nothing you needed to get from the store, all you had to do was put on pants and pack up your hygiene bag and you were ready too. Maybe getting there quicker and getting the whole thing over with would be better than staying home dwelling on everything.

"Better put your shoes on."

The glee in his voice, that was enough to make this whole thing worth it, "I'll see you soon."

>>><<<

Eijiro reached into the backseat and plopped a bag down on your lap the very moment you were buckled in. "Had to make a pit stop." He explained.

"It's after two in the morning, where'd you have to..."

"Just open the bag and don't complain."

You found it filled to the brim with all your favorite snacks.

"I'm sure the plane will have a bunch of snacks we can raid but I know for a fact they don't have these." He held up a pack of cookies and creme flavored pocky that had been his favorite for as long as you'd known him, quickly followed by your favorite flavor too. You also found a massive bag of gummy worms and jolly ranchers.

"So, what you're telling me is our teeth are going to rot by the time we land? Not that I'm complaining."

You ripped open the bag of ranchers knowing that was what he'd go for first and sure enough his hand dove inside just as he pulled away from the curb. You could hear his dangerously sharp teeth biting through the rock candy like it was nothing while you still rolled one around your mouth.

Eijiro asked you about the resort you'd be going to, wondering if you'd been there before or what other stuff you guys could do when you weren't dealing with your family. "I figured we could fly back Monday night or Tuesday morning, you know, just play it by ear in case there was anything else we wanted to do."

More than anything, you wished you could just leech a little bit of that excitement from him. The glimpses of his smile you caught as you drove under the street lights made your heart ache.

"What?" He asked with that wide smile of his. You'd been caught staring, red-handed.

"I, uh, I just don't know what to tell you."

You could see the subtle change of his grin, watch as it softened and his hand came to rest on your thigh. "Hey, it's gonna be fine! And if we run into them while out doing stuff, you can just avoid them or hide behind me!" At least hiding behind Eijiro is an easy thing to do, damn mountain of a man.

His thumb slowly brushed back and forth. "'S gonna be okay. I'll beat 'em up if they're assholes!"

You snickered at his Katsuki impression and let the drone of the radio fill the air around you both. Enjoying the silence the rest of the way to the hanger with Eijiro's hand atop your leg.

[cockslutpadalecki]

Andy and y/n are opposing counsel in a big criminal case. Y/n is as good as Andy, they have been rivals for years, and she wins the case for her client. Y/n gloats to Andy then Dub-con/ hate sex ensues because Andy is pissed and tired of her.

Summary: When Y/N finally wins the case she’s been battling, there’s nothing left to do but celebrate, however inadvertently stumbles into her biggest rival, and prosecutor, Andy Barber, as he drowns his sorrows.

Characters: Andy Barber x Reader.

Words: 2.4K.

Warnings: dub-con, hate sex, mean!Andy, face slapping, explicit sexual content, degradation, sex in a public bathroom, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it kids), mirror sex, rough sex, threats of deep throating, 18+, my poor knowledge of the justice system.

A/N: I sincerely hope this is the kind of thing you had in mind, nonnie. And I hope that your bar exam goes well. Much love to you! Not beta’ed so all errors, spelling mistakes and general bullshit are entirely mine. However a massive thank you to my pre-readers @sweeterthanthis @ozarkthedog @thesummerpetrichor and @gwenavibra for all of your feedback and support. While likes are gold, feedback is golden. My work is my own, therefore I do not give consent for this story to be re-posted or translated to any other site.

“We find the defendant not guilty.”

As the statement hits you, your entire body fills with glee, and you can’t help but cheer along with your counsel at the positive result. It always feels so good to get the verdict you’ve been working your ass off to achieve, and when you get it— well it’s like all your birthdays and Christmases have come at once, and neatly topped off with the best orgasm of your life.

Reaching over, you give your colleague Rhea a big hug and thank her for her hard work over the past five months.

“Oh shit, you should see the look on Barber’s face,” she says into your ear with a little giggle. “Think he might combust right there in the chair.”

When Rhea pulls away, you carefully test a glance over to the desk on the opposite side of the room, and you have to hold back from smirking at the sight of Andy Barber glaring down at the floor. He hasn’t moved from his seat since the verdict had been read, tightly gripping a pencil between his fingers before it snaps under the weight of his fury.

Instead of tidying away your notes, you decide to console the man for his loss— show him a little compassion when he needs it the most, maybe try to congratulate him somehow. You’re not even sure what for as you stride over in your heels, clicking your tongue softly as you reach him.

“Hey Barber, I’m sorry about the loss, okay?”

Andy finally glances up through thick eyelashes, lips caught in an angry frown. If you didn’t know better, you’d think he was seconds away from snapping you in two like the pencil laying in pieces on the desk in front of him.

“Don’t try and flatter me with your fake apologies,” Andy spits. “That verdict shoulda been mine.”

“What can I say? The evidence spoke for itself,” you shrug, now wishing you hadn’t made the effort to reach out.

“Are you kidding me? The evidence was ironclad, Y/N, and you know it,” he grits, slowly rising to his feet. “Did Loguidice grease some wheels for you, huh?”

“He had nothing to do with it, this was my case.”

“I’m surprised he let you out of your cage long enough to defend anyone.”

Letting a small laugh, you can’t help but be amused by Andy’s determination to bring you down. “I’m not Neal’s pet.”

“I always assumed you were his bitch.”

Again, you sideline the retort you’re desperate to bite back with, but think better of it. The man just lost a massive case, he’s only trying to streamline his rage, and you just happen to be the first person caught in his cross-hairs. But you know deep down it’s more than that. You and Andy never saw eye to eye, even when you were making your way up the judicial ladder and he was your mentor, but when you accepted a job alongside Neal, that was the final nail in the coffin.

Andy couldn’t stand the sight of you, and after months of sly comments and sudden rivalry, you felt the same way about him.

-

The bar is bustling with people later than evening. Rhea is determined to celebrate the win over drinks, and to her credit, she is damn convincing when she needs to be. No wonder she is your first choice when it comes to partnering up on a case.

Returning from the bathroom, you shuffle back into the booth as your friend sputters around her wine glass.

“Christ, you’ll never guess who just walked in,” she giggles, her cheeks a little rosy from all the wine she’s been downing like it’s soda water.

“Who?” You start to turn in your seat but Rhea stops you, clutching at your wrist.

“Girl, don’t make it obvious,” she titters, bringing a finger to her lips as if to ssh you. “At the bar, 10 o’clock.”

Resting your chin in your palm, you tilt your head as stealthily as you can in the direction of the bar, eyes flicking over the many customers waiting to have their order taken. At first you think Rhea might’ve mistaken a stranger as somebody you both know, but eventually your gaze lands on the man standing at the very end of the bar. His eyes are cast down and part of him is in shadow from the fancy bar lighting failing to illuminate the entire area, but it’s most definitely him.

Andy.

As far as you can tell he hasn’t changed his suit from court, and while you might still be wearing the cute little skirt and jacket ensemble you had bought especially for the trial, you came straight from the office to celebrate. He looks dishevelled and downtrodden, like he’s been stumbling from bar to bar ever since he left the courthouse.

“What’s he doing here?” Rhea asks when you turn back to face her.

You shrug. “I don’t know and I don’t care.”

“You should go say hi,” she encourages with a wide smile, picking at the plate of nachos sitting in the middle of the table.

“What part of ‘I don’t know and I don’t care’ translates as ‘go and make conversation’?” You laugh.

“C’mon, don’t you feel a little sorry for the guy?”

“Not after he called me a bitch in front of the entire court.”

“Pretty sure he’s called you worse over the years,” the redhead counters, an eyebrow quirked into her hairline. You silently stare each other down, but eventually you buckle under her stare, huffing under your breath as you reach for your purse and fish out a quarter.

That should be enough for a measure of their shittiest liquor. That’s all Andy deserves anyway.

That and a throat punch.

-

“Can I get you a drink?” You offer with a heavy sigh, slapping the $10 bill Rhea kindly lent you on the bar next to Andy’s half empty glass of what you assume must be whiskey. He glances up, stunning cobalt twinkling until they cloud over, darkening to navy when he realises it’s you.

“No thanks, you’d probably slip some poison into it when I’m not looking,” he clips sharply, jaw tightening.

You let him have half a smile as a kind gesture in response, despite the fact you’d rather throw his drink in his face. “You sure think I’m the devil, don’t you?”

“You come pretty fucking close, sweetheart.”

Even though the pet name isn’t meant as a compliment, your body reacts as if it is. Your stomach tightens while heat blooms in your core, and suddenly your eyes are inexplicably drawn to his lips, watching as he wets them with the tip of his tongue.

“Look, I know you can’t stand the sight of me, but you’re welcome to come and sit with us for a drink if you want,” you offer blindly, trying to take your mind off the mental image of him and that god forsaken beard buried between your thighs.

“I’m good where I am.”

“Andy, c’mon, this is pathetic.”

“I’m pathetic?” he scoffs. “I’m not the one gloating about their win.”

“When did I gloat?”

“You didn’t need to. It’s written all over your face.”

Sucking in a tight breath, you’ve had enough of being nice to this asshole. “I didn’t come over here to try and upset you. I was just trying to be a friend, okay? You look like you need one.”

“I don’t need your pity, Y/N,” Andy mutters. “Why don’t you just go back to your buddy Neal and spread those legs a little wider, huh?”

Your hand connects with his cheek so fast, you don’t register the blow until your palm is hanging back at your side and stinging from the contact.

“Y’know, why I won that case? Because I’m a better attorney than you, and you can’t stand it,” you practically shriek at him before storming off towards the bathroom, doing your best attempt to swallow down the urge to cry.

His words don’t upset you— after all, you have been accused of sleeping your way to the top throughout your career, but it doesn’t stop you from being frustrated at the constant shaming.

The cool water feels blissful as you splash a little against your hot cheeks, taking a moment to stare down into the white porcelain basin, your head a jumble of thoughts. Tonight was supposed to be a celebration, but you feel more frustrated than the week you spent on your case coming up against nothing but dead ends.

Letting go of the breath you didn’t realise you were holding onto, you straighten back up and grab a handful of paper towels from the dispenser, patting your damp cheeks and neck dry.

Your reflection stares back at you as you catch it in the mirror, forehead dewy from the oppressive heat stifling the air inside the small bathroom. You reach for another paper towel, dropping the used ball of tissue into the wastebasket on the floor next to you as the door crashes open behind you.

“What the fuck?” You squeak, spinning on the spot to face the intruder, face dropping at the sight of your foe standing in front of you.

Somehow Andy looks bigger as he easily fills the doorway with his broad frame. He steps inside, locking the door behind him before stalking towards you, hand outstretched as it finds its way around your throat. He pushes you back against the basins, causing a pained cry to tumble from your lips as the edge catches your thighs.

“You don’t slap me and get away with it,” he snarls, teeth bared.

“You deserved it for accusing me of being a slut.”

“But that’s what you are. Just some whore who’s willing to do anything when she’s on her knees.” 

He shoves his spare hand between your legs causing you to jolt at the contact. “See what I mean. Already writhing like a bitch in heat.”

“Fuck you,” you gasp through strained breaths.

Andy smirks as he leans in, hot whiskey breath sticky on your cheek. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” His hand moves higher, and your body betrays you, hips canting to meet the pressure of his thumb on your clit. Arousal pools in your core, and despite your protests, you can feel slick wet on your pussy lips as you roll your pelvis desperately against his palm.

“I’d rather, shit—” he catches your bead just right, “drop dead.”

He laughs, “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Andy pulls you back, hand still clasped tight around your throat. He lets go, and turns you around, bending you forcefully over the spot you were just lent against. Your skirt is up and over your ass before you can fight him off.

Your hands slap wildly when Andy tugs your panties to the side, and clicks his tongue in glee as you catch him smirking in the mirror at the sight of the mess between your legs.

“Always figured you were a stockings kinda gal,” he cajoles with mirth, not even hesitating as he flicks open his belt with his free hand, the other flat between your shoulder blades to keep you in place.

You squirm a little beneath him when you feel the blunt head of his cock at your entrance, and then he’s pushing his way through your heat, not stopping until he bottoms out. 

A small whimper escapes from your throat before you can stop it, watching through the glass as joy spreads across Andy’s face. 

“Yeah, you love being full of cock?” he asks rhetorically, but you find yourself responding anyway. 

“Go to hell, Barber,” you seethe as your answer gives him cause to start moving— fast, deep, hard.

You can feel your skin rippling from the force of his thrusts as you scrunch your eyes shut, trying to shake your head through the tightening coil in your belly. Andy’s hand curls around a fistful of hair, tugging your head up sharply, and forces you to stare at him in the mirror. 

“Nah, you’re gonna look at me while I fuck you,” he grins almost maniacally. “Want ya to watch yourself as you come, and know it was me who made it happen.”

“No,” you protest, placing your palms against the basin as you try to push away, but your actions do nothing. Andy has you well and truly pinned. 

“Yes.” 

He shifts minutely behind you, and somehow the new angle of his cock manages to hit every pressure point as he drives himself inside you, and again when he pulls back. 

“Oh… my… god,” you keen, back arching as you push yourself further onto his dick. 

“Fuck,” Andy grunts under his breath. 

Wet slaps of skin on skin echo around the small bathroom, heat rising into your cheeks at the embarrassment of being so unashamedly turned on at the prospect of coming at the hands of your biggest rival. 

“You hear that? Hear how fuckin’ wet you are?” he growls in your ear, yanking your head up even further to suck a bruise into your neck. “Can ya feel how much you’re drippin’ ‘round me?” 

His Boston accent has never sounded so thick as he continues to rattle off insult after insult against your skin, and how he hates the fucking sight of you— how he’s longed to wipe the smug grin off your face for years with his cock shoved down your gullet. 

“Sick and tired of you acting like you’re better than me sweetheart,” he mutters breathlessly. “‘Cause you’re not. Look at ya.” Your gaze meets back in the mirror once more. “This is all ya are, just some dirty slut gettin’ fucked in a bathroom.”

The bow string in your core that has been drawing tighter and tighter suddenly snaps under the pressure, and the floodgates open. Your eyes lock with Andy’s piercing icy stare, and he’s smiling as you fight to keep the bliss from resonating across your face, but it’s no good. The restraints crumble, and you know he’s taking pleasure in watching— feeling how explosively you’re coming. 

He’s laughing as your hot slick dribbles out around his cock, praising you between thrusts for “being such a good little whore.” You hate every second of how much you enjoy the accolade, especially coming from Andy, but it doesn’t prevent you from pleading with him to continue.

In fact, you never want him to stop.

***

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[hobivore]

All the things I hate about you

↠ PAIRING: JHS x reader (f)

↠ WORDS: 1.6K

↠ GENRE: smut, office AU, E2L

↠ RATING: explicit (18+)

↠ SYNOPSIS: There are a lot of things you hate about Hoseok, but he’s determined to change that.

↠ WARNINGS: pwp, sex in a public work bathroom, Hoseok has platinum hair (yes that should come with a warning), oral (f receiving), unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), dirty talk, snarky banter during sex, they’re bad at feelings

↠ A/N: This is a drabble for the BTS Summer Bingo Event @bangtanwritingbingo with the prompt ‘Jung Hoseok’. A big shoutout to my fellow Hobi’s Hoes: the lovely Hope @hobi-gif for challenging me and beta reading this piece, and Ana @xjoonchildx for always being such a wonderful supporter. Love you ladies, this one’s for you!

© hauntedlilies Do not repost, translate or use my stories without my permission.

It’s there, somewhere at the back of your mind—fuzzy, out-of-focus, the letters bleeding out like ink on paper: a list of all the things you hate about Jung Hoseok.

He hitches your left leg over his shoulder and you scrabble for the words, hanging onto their serif as he flattens his tongue on your clit.

You hate how he’s always trying to one-up you at everything. You hate how he’s so good at it, too. How he relishes it. 

You hate how nice he is. How everyone loves him. Even your own mother—always asking about the pretty platinum haired man from your work, the one with the lovely smile?

You hate that damned smile. Hate the shape of his mouth, his perfect teeth, the mole on his upper lip pressing against your skin. 

And you hate how much he turns you on.

He pushes two fingers inside you without warning and you gasp, head falling back against the door with a loud thud and left hand fumbling to steady yourself on the wash basin next to you, panties carelessly discarded in the sink. Your chest tightens but the muffled voices on the other side continue, oblivious to what’s happening a few feet away. 

Hoseok sits back on his heels on the hard floor, grinning, his chin covered in your slick. “Shh,” he shushes you, “or do you want everyone in the office to know who you’re getting fucked by in the bathroom?”

There’s a glimmer in his eyes—he knows how much you hate giving in to him. Giving in to whatever it is the two of you have been doing for the past four months. It’s just a stupid office feud that got messy, you remind yourself. Nothing more. 

But Hoseok really, really loves winning. 

“You do an awful lot of talking for someone who’s supposed to be fucking me.” You hiss, grabbing a fistful of white hair, trying to push his face back between your legs. 

He just grins and hums, running one finger between your folds. He watches, enraptured, as if it’s the most captivating thing he’s ever seen. “Baby, you’re dripping for me.” 

You know it’s meant to be a sneer but there’s a hint of softness behind the words. It’s too warm—too pretty, too out of place in the harsh artificial lighting and the ceramic tiles surrounding you. 

“Don’t flatter yourself.” You tug on his hair again. “You’re just slobbering like a—” Your words are cut off by a sharp flick of his fingers against your clit. 

He rises to his feet and you let go of his hair. The bathroom is small, with barely any room for him to kneel next to the toilet, and now he’s standing upright his body is mere inches away from you.

He’s so close you can smell his cologne mixed with your own arousal and his eyes find yours, the heat behind them only aggravating the dull throbbing between your legs. 

There’s a dewy sheen to his skin and his platinum hair is sticking to his forehead. He has loosened up his tie a little, his perfectly ironed dress shirt still tucked into his pants. You suppress the urge to let your gaze drift any lower, refusing to give him the satisfaction. It’s futile and childish but you jut your chin out as you hold his gaze. 

He grins, eyes raking you shamelessly up and down. Your dress is still hitched up, resting on your hips, the front pulled down to expose your breasts. When his hand comes up to tweak one of your nipples you involuntarily arch into his touch, a low chuckle resonating in his chest. 

“Fuck, you’re so needy.” 

“Do I need to remind you where we are?” You bite back. “Just fuck me. Or should I leave and ask Jimin to do it? I bet he does a better job.”

He raises an eyebrow, amused, fingers still kneading your breast. “I won’t stop you. Do you think I haven’t seen you looking at his ass?” He leans in closer, his breath ghosting your ear. “Don’t worry, we’re all looking.”

You blink at him in confusion and he shrugs, rapping his knuckles on the wall. “Too bad it's a bit too tight for three.” 

He laughs, and you hate how he gets you riled up so easily without batting an eye.

You hate how you let him. 

And you hate how you’re the one to close the distance, taking him off-guard with the press of your lips against his. He freezes, but then his hands find your waist and he pulls you in closer as he slots his thigh between your legs. You nip at his bottom lip, swallowing his soft whimpers. 

You grind on his thigh, desperate for more friction. His hard cock presses against you and your hands drift down, tugging on his belt, fingers fumbling with the clasp. 

Hoseok sucks on the sensitive skin behind your ear, grinning at your frustrated sounds when the buckle won’t open. 

“So impatient.” He tilts his head. “What happened to asking nicely?”

You grit your teeth. “You know I don’t beg.” 

“I know you know the word ‘please’.” He steps back and you frown at the loss of contact. “Please, Jin,” he mocks in a high voice that doesn’t sound anything like yours, “can you send me the data?” 

You glower at him. “That’s different—” 

“Why?”

The question hangs in the air for a moment, naked and raw. Even in the small space he feels too far away and you have to stop yourself from reaching out to him. You swallow the answer down, smiling at him sweetly. “Hoseok?” You slide your hands down your body, slowly, watching him through your lashes. 

He sits down on the closed toilet seat and leans back against the wall, legs splayed wide and arms folded behind his head. 

“What are you doing?” You stop, hands hovering above your stomach.

“Thought you were gonna give me a show.” He smirks. “Don’t stop on my account.”

You roll your eyes, hands falling back to your sides, balled into fists. 

“It’s just a word.” 

It isn’t, and he knows it. It’s the weight that keeps the scales balanced, keeps the distance between the two of you, the one you have been too scared to close. 

You let your eyes fall shut, hands smoothing out the wrinkles on your dress. “Hobi,” you start, and his knee jerks unwittingly. “Please.”

He’s moving before the syllable has left your mouth, his fingers hot on your skin, lips slotted against yours in a sloppy kiss. 

“Turn around.”

You oblige—a little too fast, a little too eager. 

The sound of his belt unbuckling sends a new wave of arousal to your core and you moan when he rubs the head of his cock through your folds, sliding into you in one swift motion. The slight burn makes way for pleasure as he starts grinding his hips against your ass. He stays there, not pulling back, and you whine at his slow movements. 

“Not good enough for you?” 

You reach one hand behind you, grabbing his hips, trying to get him to move. “Hoseok.” He’s infuriating, and you hate how your voice betrays you, coming out less annoyed and sounding more like a plea. “Please fuck me.” 

“Like this?” He wraps one arm around your chest, pressing you closer to him, nearly pulling out before driving back into you. You let your head loll back against him when he slides his other hand down your body, nimble fingers finding your swollen clit. 

You’re biting back your moans just like he’s holding back his thrusts in an attempt to minimise the loud slaps of skin against skin. Part of you is thankful for it—you don’t want to have to deal with Namjoon’s shocked face or Taehyung’s sheepish grin waiting for you on the other side of the door. 

The other part wonders how it’d be if they knew: if you no longer had to hide in small rooms between stacks of paper or toilets, muffling your cries into his shoulder. 

How it’d be to take your time, languid, drawn-out hours of pleasure between the soft sheets of your own bed, mapping every inch of his body. 

Hoseok grinds the palm of his hand down and you whimper, a low pressure starting to build in your belly. 

“Fuck,” he groans, nipping at your shoulder. “So tight. God, you feel so good.”

You hate the way his words make you clench around him.

“You like that?” He grins and presses his lips against your temple, your protest dying on your tongue. 

He takes his hand off your chest and moves it to your hip, picking up his pace. His cock drags along your walls and you gasp when he hits the spot that has you squirming in his grasp. 

“Don’t stop, don’t stop,” you mumble, words tumbling out of your mouth in a messy stream. For once he doesn’t retort, sliding the pads of his fingers over your clit in tandem with the movements of his hips. You feel your body tighten, creeping closer towards the edge with every flick of his thumb. 

“Ah—Hobi, please.” Your legs are starting to tremble and he wraps his other arm under yours, holding you up with a hand clasped over your mouth. 

“That’s it, baby,” he murmurs into your ear as you come, your sobs muffled against his hand. His pace falters and becomes erratic as he chases his own high, biting down on his tongue with his face buried into your neck.  

He removes his hand from your mouth and you suck in a deep breath, trying to reduce the heaving of your chest. His lips ghost over your shoulder, leaving the faintest trail of kisses. 

“So good,” he hums against your skin, “always so good for me.”

You hate that he’s right.

Thank you for reading!

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