#those two aren't spared by all means

[mochiajclayne]

thoughts on naruhina + boruto and their...family

Will preface this by saying that this is a combination of observation and analysis and if you don't agree with me, take this with a grain of salt and scroll away.

(If you're a naruhina/nh shipper, do yourself a favor and scroll away because this isn't your cup of tea.)

Personally, it's almost emotionally triggering for me to watch the NH family because it reminded me of what my family dynamic used to be and witnessing it unfold in the sequel from a viewer's perspective made me realize how dysfunctional it is and what could've been done better.

Let's start at the issue at hand: Naruto not coming home, being too busy as Hokage to the point that he misses important family events like birthdays.

Boruto's reaction to the issue is realistic, especially to a kid that doesn't understand. I'm not saying that Naruto doesn't have a contribution to that mess at all (it's worse when you realize that he would rather be in his office worrying about the number of headbands than be with his family but that is a separate discussion that I will dive on in the near future, among other things). Basically, he wanted his father to be, well, present, so he does everything to get his attention. And no, those pranks aren't pointless. Being a Hokage means attending public functions and being involved with the community and what's the best freaking way to get your dad's attention by embarrassing him while on the job (which happens to be the same thing that stands between him being a good father)? Now, this wouldn't escalate into massive proportions like cheating-on-the-Chunin-exams level if Hinata was able to placate and explain things to her son.

In terms of explaining, there are several things to consider:

realizing the issue

being logical about the reasons

seeing eye to eye with your kid, emphasizing on how your kid perceived this issue emotionally and determining what they want

not making excuses and stating the reasons in the perspective that your kid can understand

openly communicating the issue to the ones in concern and expressing your stance on this, hearing them out, and reaching a consensus (or a conclusion)

But the thing is, Hinata herself doesn't see the problem, thus eliminating the chance to see her kid eye-to-eye on this particular issue--given that they aren't on the same page from the start. It's baffling as well as concerning to see that she doesn't have any qualms with her husband making a secondary residence in the Hokage Office, sleeping on the couch and not on their shared bed, overworking himself to the point that even his freaking advisor tells him to go the fuck home, would rather eat cup ramen than enjoy a home cooked meal, and the tipping point: is okay with her husband sending a clone to celebrate their daughter's birthday.

And her telling Boruto that his father is the Hokage and it's a busy position pretty much doesn't cover how fucked up the issue is. Boruto could easily counter that with well Shikadai's dad is the Hokage advisor but he can go home so what's stopping mine from doing the same? In short, she keeps on excusing the behavior which in turn gives off that Naruto prioritizes the job the most and their family clearly comes second and oh my, does that sound so appealing on a child's ears? Definitely not.

The point is, a kid would go through drastic measures to find the assurance and approval that they need especially if it wasn't provided to them. The pranks stopped when Sasuke entered the picture. He was able to talk to Boruto about his dad. Give opinions about Naruto as the person, not just someone in a high position. That's exactly what Boruto needed to hear.

Now you may wonder why Sasuke was able to do this and not Hinata? That's because Sasuke pretty much understands Naruto and he is able to provide more input about Naruto outside of his achievements and position. Not to mention that Sasuke pretty much took Boruto under his wing to train him if he wanted to defeat his dad. And one thing about Sasuke is he isn't pretty much holding back when he calls out Boruto, something I've noticed that Hinata wasn't able to do. Watching the scene of Sasuke scolding Boruto in front of his own mother is pretty funny because why is your husband's best friend giving off mother more than you?

[thebibliosphere]

I both believe "poor people deserve art" and "artists deserve food", but it's hard to reconcile those beliefs. I blame capitalism. And I suppose it mostly matters who you're stealing from?

I don't mean to question you at all, I'm against people pirating your stories. I guess I was just wondering if you had more thoughts regarding the reconciliation the two beliefs I quoted above.

I think the reconciliation is working toward a future where things are better, and authors and artists don't have to beg people not to steal from them because they think every author is Stephen King, who wouldn't notice if you stole the pennies found under his couch when in reality most of us are hunting for spare change down the back of the couch because we are earning below minimum wage.

We need people to embrace the idea that art belongs to the working class, both in terms of consumption but also creation.

If you don't support the working-class creators, you'll only end up with rich fucks with no scope of the world beyond their own narrow view of privilege.

Indie creators are actually working very hard to change the way the industry works, and the publishing industry is shitting itself over it. They don't like the success some of us are having. It's why they keep upping prices while slashing corners on their own production (while never affecting the man at the top) to try and stay competitive within the rat race they've created.

They're not interested in the proliferation of art. They're not interested in making sure their authors can afford to live. They don't want more diversity. They don't want inclusion. They want profit at whatever the cost.

And while indie creators very much need to get paid because we live in a capitalistic society and everything is burning down around us, and a carton of eggs now costs more than what I earn per hour, our creativity is directly at odds with the type of profiteering big publishers want.

The money should go to the writers. Not the CEOs. The money should go to the workers in the print houses. Not the CEOs. No one needs the kind of wealth these people have. It's obscene. We need direct action against these conglomerates. We need unionization. We need a means to fight back so that we can make art and make it accessible.

So, how do we do that? I don't know. I'm just a very tired, disabled creator doing my best to keep my head above water. But I think getting people to realize that art and books are worth saving up for would be a good start.

That putting money in the pockets of creators is just as important as your own enjoyment of their art. Because if there aren't any artists, you've got nothing.

Getting them involved with their local libraries would also be a great start. Educating them on how the industry works is part of that. The number of people telling me they had no idea libraries paid authors is staggering. And that's intentional. It's a by-product of right-wing propaganda to make you think libraries are worthless and just sap taxpayers' money.

They're not.

If they were, the fash wouldn't be trying so hard to take them away.

Basically, we need working-class solidarity and for certain people on the left to rid themselves of the idea that just because something isn't borne of manual labor, it doesn't have worth. We need the artists and the dreamers as much as we need to bricklayers and the craftsmen. Otherwise, what's the fucking point of it all?

[loveneversleepss]

TROPE SERIES: Lee know

Brothers best friend

requested by @aakamiLee on wattpad

Pairing: enemy!Lee know x female reader

Trope: enemies to lovers, fake dating

Warnings: cursing, bickering, mean and nice nicknames, time jumps (bc im lazy), smut, protected sex (we're responsible for once), unprotected sex (Oopsie), oral sex, betrayal, yelling?

w.c: 10 k

~

There's a big difference between love and hate. Who you love and care for are forever in your heart, you'll follow them to the end of the earth. But hatred, it's made out of pure evil. It sinks into you until you can't push it out anymore. You deal with it in ways that aren't right. Until, you accept it. Make peace with it. Then that's when it goes away.

I guess that's why villains or enemies are seen as more powerful and better. Attractive sometimes too. Because they've made peace of their hate. They're gonna use it to fire themselves into getting what they want. Because they're not afraid. They'd let the world burn for what they love. Meanwhile hero will sacrifice what they love to save the world. And you'd choose the villain every time.

If there's anyone you have a strong hatred for, it's Lee know. Ever since you were a child, he had it out for you to embarrass you and tease you at any moment he could. On the way you'd dress, the way you talked, or the way you walked. He would say something about it. You didn't know what or why he always would make fun of you. What could possibly possess him to do that?

"Wow, y/n. Could you get anymore dorkier? Look at what you're wearing," he'd snicker.

There was never a moment he would spare you, or do anything to prove he was good. He was a bully, an enemy and you would never side with him. You promised that to yourself. But you'd hate to admit, he's gorgeous. Breath taking.

But there was one person who was disgusted by him and hated him even more than you did. Hyunjin. Your knight in shining armor. He was even more beautiful than Lee know.

"I know you're not talking with those tight jeans, Lee know." He came by your side and defended you. Lee know looked embarrassed on the spot.

You were thankful for him. You survived Lee knows bullying tactics thanks to him. He was your best friend all your childhood years. But he had to leave. You knew it wouldn't last. But you had hoped it would. The last day of elementary school, you dreaded it and wished it didn't come. But it did, and he moved away after that day.

"Don't worry, y/n. I'll come back for you, I will never forget my best friend." He hugged you tight and he whispered sweetly to you, "promise me you'll wait? Promise that you'll never have another boy at your side, I'm the only one for you." And you intended to keep that promise.

How the years fly by. Senior year. Graduation. This is the final year. The final time to experience everything you possibly can. And you will.

"Y/n!" You heard your name being called by your brother, Chan. He's practically legend at your school. He graduated a year ago. At your school, you have a record of seniors who experienced things no one else has before. He accomplished to host all senior parties. How does one even manage that?

You made your way down the stairs in your pajamas. "What?" You yelled back and made your way to the kitchen. "We're going out, don't burn down the house, and don't go anywhere." He said in a busy tone as he texted in his phone. You saw Leeknow standing next to Chan and you glanced at him confused. "Since when were you two friends? You don't even go to our school anymore, Chan." Chan made eye contact with Lee know and back to you. "Because I'm actually cool, unlike you, lil sis. I have friends and you so desperately need to get out more." He slipped away before you could answer and you glared in his direction.

You turned your focus back on Lee know as stared at you with a smirk. "Cute pjs," he joked and you rolled your eyes. "Well excuse me that I don't look like a supermodel in the morning." He seemed amused and leaned over the table, "it's noon and Saturday. Why don't you go out with us, huh? Get put of your comfort zone, gain a social life or something." You scoffed and took a couple steps closer, "I have a life and friends. I don't need to be drinking and partying all the time." He straightened his body up and crossed his arms, "name one friend you have." He was skeptical of you, you have to admit. Making friends is not an easy task for you.

"Hyunjin," you said confidently. He laughed practically in your face. "That loser? He moved away a long time ago, it's time you move on sweetheart." You were done with the conversation and flipped him off as you walked away. He rushed to stop you, leaning against the wall before the stairs. "Come on, get ready. It'll be fun." That's all you need. To attend a party with your mortal enemy.

"No thanks." You shinned a fake smile at him and you walked up the stairs. "Jeez what a loner," he mumbled and you looked down at your pajamas. Suddenly feeling self conscious. Maybe you should start going out more. You stopped mid way on the stairs and he had begun to walk away. "Do you really think it would be fun?" He turned back around and rose an eyebrow mischievously. "Yes, it would." He crossed his arms, you immediately noticed his veins and the tone of his muscles appearing. You have to admit, if he wasn't your mortal enemy, you would find him attractive.

He followed your eye path to his arms and cleared his throat. "Just go get ready loser." You frowned and continued going up the stairs and got ready.

You peaked around the corner and saw him leaning against the wall in the kitchen, waiting for you. "Yeah, Chan. It's fine I can take her. I'll be there soon." He hung up and you cleared your throat. He turned his attention up to you and smiled slightly, you began to walk down the steps with a slight shyness. He slowly made his way towards you and... He wolf whistles at you.

"Okay, ew." You rose your hand and made a face of disgust. He smiled. "It's just nice to see you actually try to fit in for once." The backhanded compliment hit you in the face like a truck. You huffed and crossed your arms, "why can't you just say I look pretty? You don't have to insult me." His expression dropped and his eyes softened, "okay I'm sorry. You look pretty." The Lee know apologizing for once in his life? You're shocked and frankly, scared. He must want something. "Okay now you're being strangely nice, what is it that you want? Girls? Money?"

He smirked as he looked down at your hands. "Did I maybe convince you to go out with me out of jealousy that I would get with a girl?" He slowly moved to the first step as you walked down to him. How the hell did he come to that conclusion? Delusional. "Are you jealous, little y/n?" He leaned against the wall. You laughed in disbelief and crossed your arms. "Of course not, no, I'm not jealous." He smirked and licked his lips, "Uh huh." He sighed heavily, "Just admit it, you're in love with me." You mock a laugh at him, "Um, no."

He raises an eyebrow at you, "Is that so?" He steps closer to you, almost toppling over you, "even when I do this?" He places a lock of your hair behind your ear and stares into your eyes, you try to ignore the heart beating fast in your chest. "Just leave me alone, jerk!" He laughs softly to himself as you push him away. "You're hot when you're mad." You narrow your eyes at him with annoyance as you walk away. He always does things like that just to get you flustered, you should be able to say you're used to it but you're not. He makes you nervous and barely able to stand when he touches you. You don't know why he has that effect on you but he does. And you hate yourself for it.

~~~

You'd never would've imagined in a hundred years that you would be in a car with Lee Know right now. It's frightening really. "So, what is all good about that Hyunjin guy? You seem to be in love with him or something." You rolled your eyes and continued looking out the window, "i'm not in love with him, he was just really nice to me." He scoffed and sat up straighter in his seat, "you're obsessed with him because he was nice to you? God, y/n, you really need to go to this party." You huffed and sat more back in the seat. You eventually arrived and heard the music booming in the distance, he parked neatly. But he hasn't motioned to leaving yet, awaiting your move. You always pondered a question and never had the guts to say it before to him, but you're feeling pretty bold right now.

"Why do you hate me?" You looked over your shoulder at him, he was clenching his jaw hard. "Who said I do?" He turned to look at you two, since when has he had that sparkle in his eyes? It's mesmerizing. He looked down to his water bottle in the cup holder and decided to take a sip. "Are you fucking with me?" He practically choked at your bluntness and hit his chest a couple times. "I mean you have made every single thing I've ever done incredibly hard and made fun of me every chance you could." He set down the water bottle and looked into your eyes once again, "it was the only way I could get your attention." You shook your head at him. "There are other ways of getting my attention, being mean is not one of them." You opened the door and slammed it shut in annoyance, he followed closely behind which annoyed you even more.

You walked into the party and realized, this is definitely not your element. "Scared, little one?" Lee know whispered into your ear. "Just not my element, can you get me something to drink?" He looked guilty all of a sudden and licked his smooth lips, "so uh. About what I said about you basically getting out of your comfort zone. Maybe drinking should not be one of them." You wanted so badly to beat him up. Rip him apart to shreds. "What? Come on, I need to unwind." You faced him now and shot puppy dog eyes at him, "pretty please?" He stayed silent for a while, just looking down at you. "Okay, I'll be back. Stay put."

Yeah, no way you're staying put. You took the opportunity when he left to explore around, leading into a den in the house. You became face to face with a man with long black hair, kissing a woman on the couch. You instantly recognized him, Hyunjin. He broke away from the kiss with an amused smile and the girl noticed you and stared with a judging look, he followed her gaze and laid eyes on you.

What. The. Fuck. "Y/n?" You turned away quickly and bumped into Lee knows silhouette, knocking your drink all over himself. "Ugh, dammit y/n." He noticed your face and immediately searched around for the cause. Lee Know's gaze locked from him to you and then back to him. His jaw tensed as he stared at them both and it clicked, that's also his ex girlfriend. Tears began to fill in your eyes, and he pulled you close. He led you to a bathroom far away from them. Tears fell down your cheeks, pooling your mind.

"Listen to me, y/n. Fuck them. He didn't deserve you anyways." You leaned against the sink as he desperately tried to wipe away your tears. You shook your head while sobbing, "I can't believe it, I was an idiot to love him. I wasted all this time waiting for him." Now he was shaking his head, "no, y/n. Don't think like that. He's the idiot and you should beat his ass for doing that to you." You sighed heavily and pushed him away by his stomach, wiping your own tears. "God, I wish you wouldn't see me like this. Please don't make fun of me for this."

He stayed silent. "God, you reek." You sat down on the closed toilet lid. He looked down to his shirt, "oh right. I forgot." He took of his jacket, wrapping it around your shoulders, and off his shirt went. Pulling it off his shoulders, and wetting it in the sink. You couldn't help staring at his sculpted physique, he was ripped. And there was one thing that stood out to you, a small scar located a little above his waist. It was so unique and beautiful, you wanted to trace along it. He noticed your staring, "what?"

You stood up and walked over to him, he froze as you stared down at his scar. He backed against the sink. You slowly raised your hand and touched his stomach, "it's pretty." You traced along it, his chest rising up and down as you slowly caressed it. "Y/n," he whispered softly and you looked up at him. His cheeks were slightly red and you instantly knew he felt embarrased. You yanked your hand away, "sorry." He shook his hand and mumbled a, "its fine."

He continued to try to wash away the alcohol from his shirt as you watched. "I'll wash this later." He drained it and you gave him his sweater back to cover him up. He paused before reaching for the door, he looked back at you, "do you wanna go home?" You nodded your head, "yeah. I wanna go home." He put his arm around you and led you outside, not once letting you astray from his grip. You hadn't noticed before, but people were staring at you, you heard faint whispers. "Who's that girl with Lee Know?" "She's pretty." "Wait I think that's Chan's little sister." You shook off their conversations, of course they were talking about you, you were with Mr. King of the parties. He opened the door for you and you were about to enter when you heard your name being called. You took a deep breath and turned to the culprit. "What do you want Hyunjin?"

"Just let me explain." You glanced at Lee Know and he nodded his head for you to put Hyunjin's ass on blast. "Explain what exactly. That you didn't have your tongue down her throat, while you told me to wait for you all these years and forbade me to have a boyfriend? Please, how much of a fucking loser are you to get someone's sloppy seconds?" Lee Know held in his laughter as he brought a fist to his mouth. He looked visibly proud of you. "Yeah, we're done here. Let's go."

You held the door to enter when he yelled out, "you think you're so fucking high and mighty don't you. You wanna pick out my relationship but not the one right here," he motioned at the two of you, "I mean come on y/n. He fucking made your life a living hell, don't you remember the times you cried in my arms about him, wishing that he would die?" You suddenly felt small, he exposed you bare and you couldn't deny it. Suddenly, there was a crowd watching from afar that you hadn't noticed from afar.

Lee Know stepped in, "get over it. She doesn't want your fucking ass and is perfectly happy without you. Whatever she said in the past is definitely not how she feels anymore, now she loathes your ass. So, tell me this.." He stepped closer to him and you suddenly realized why everyone fears him too, he's not afraid to point out the obvious and speak up, he whsipered something inaudible to him. Hyunjin clenched his jaw and had a face of anger. He walked away defeated and Lee Know laughed as he did. You looked at Lee Know differently now, he stuck up for you when no one else did.

Maybe in another universe, you two could've been friends. Maybe he's not so bad afterall. Then you realized how rude you were to Hyunjin.

"My god, I'm turning into you!" He chuckled as your hands covered your face. "Is that so bad?" You nodded your head yes aggressively and he rolled his eyes. "Lino~~~" Oh God, as drunk as ever your brother came over to you two. "Chan, why did you drink so much?" He collapsed on the car and burped loudly, classy. "Okay, let's get you two home."

~~~

"Does he always get this drunk?" You asked Lee know and he shrugged his shoulders. "Sometimes, only when he's stressed I guess." You plopped down on the couch and he collapsed next to you. You both sighed heavily and tried to relax. Although it didn't last long, "how are you feeling about tonight?" You shook your head, "let's not talk about it..." He cares, he cares about what you're feeling. "It's weird, isn't it?" He furrows his face in confusion, "what is?" You smiled slightly as you looked at him, "those moments where we don't hate each other." He sighed once again, "like I said. I don't hate you."

"I know." You do know that, but in your heart, you can't shake off the past. "But I know you hate me, and that's okay. I'll make you like me someday." You laughed softly, you're already starting to. You start to think about the party again and a light appears in your head. "What if we strike a deal with each other?" He raised an eyebrow, obviously interested. "What if we pretended to date?" He dropped his head back and sighed, "what do I get out of this?" You scooted closer to him, "well it'll make your ex jealous, plus it would also make Hyunjin jealous too... and maybe he will regret not being with me. Also increase my popularity." He sucked on his teeth, "seems this only benefits you, I couldn't care less about my ex."

You pondered and searched your mind for a benefit for him, "fine then, you get me." His eyes widened and he brought his head back down to normal level, "excuse me?" You leaned onto the couch on one arm, holding your head, "you heard me. I'll let you hit it whenever you want." He scoffed, "I'm offended that you think I don't have access to that already." You bit your bottom lip, "but it's not me. It's different, I'm your enemy." He squinted his eyes and blinked about a thousand times, like to actually think about it. "So, you're saying you want to have hate sex?" You almost giggled and shrug your shoulders.

"I knew you were in love with me." You smiled and shook your head, "like I said, no." He mimicked your position and got closer, "so if I told you I wanted you right now, spread out and making you cry for it. You would do it?" You made a face of disgust, "okay don't make it weird. But essentially.. sure. After all if imma lose my virginity to someone, might as well be you." He retracted his face is shock, "wait you're a virgin? God, you were really waiting for him, huh?" Unfortunately yes, you were.

He licked his lips and nodded, "okay fine. I'll be your fake boyfriend. But that means that you can't fight me on couple duties and don't tell Chan." What have you gotten yourself into?

He seemed to keep up his end of the deal, to not be able to get away from him, even at school. Your phone began to ring and you reached into your book bag, more of a tote bag and answered it. "Hello?" His voice was excited and jumpy, "hi y/n.~" You nearly hung up the phone as soon as he spoke. "Lee know?? How did you even get my number?" You audibly groaned his name. "Your brother~" he cooed. "Remind me to murder him later.." He laughed softly and you felt butterflies appear in your tummy, you clenched your stomach and nearly punched yourself to make it go away.

"Why are you calling me?" You cross one of your arms across your chest and the other holding up your phone. "That's how you talk to your savior? Your brother told me to take you home." You groan aloud and begin to walk down the path to the front. "Why didn't he come for me?" There's a loud beep of a horn and you stop into your tracks. "Sorry, apparently that car didn't see me.. maybe he wanted us to spend alone time together." You roll your eyes. "I highly doubt that." He clicks his tongue, "so where are you?" You continue your walking again but go even slower. "I'm hiding, or maybe im at home or maybe im in Hyunjin's car. Could be anywhere really as long as I am away from you." This feeling makes you feel upbeat, you like teasing him.

"Tell me where you are right now you brat," he speaks quickly in a rude tone. "Okay, first of all, rude." He sighs heavily and then chuckles softly to himself, "nice dress, Princess. Can I take it off?" Your phone slightly drops down when you search your surroundings for him. You furrow your brows when you don't find him. "How'd you know I-" You scream as your feet are lifted off the floor, being carried from behind by your waist. "Found you," he whispers and attacks your neck, biting it playfully and pretending to eat it while making gurgling noises. "Okay, okay, enough! Put me down!" People were staring.

He sets you down gently and you toss your phone back into your bag. "Here, let me get that for you." He deattaches your book bag off your shoulder and onto his. "Thanks," you mumble softly. His arm cheekily raises over your head to your shoulder, "So, what are we doing today huh? Going to dinner? Or a fair? Maybe even the movies?" You stopped walking, pushing his arm off and your mouth was slightly agape as he looked at you curiously, "what are you talking about? We're going straight home." He pouted his bottom lip, as you noticed his car. Without waiting, you marched straight to it and to the passenger's side door, about to open it until he slammed it shut.

He leans in close, keeping a firm grip on the door. "We have to go out," he said softly, you shook your head no as you kept trying to open the door. "Come onnn, let's go on a date. You were the one who said you wanted to do this fake dating thingy." He whined pathetically and you knew he was just messing with you. So obviously you had no intentions or interest in saying yes. But you did anyway, just to mess with him. "Hmm, why not?" He perked up immediately and stepped closer to you. "Really?" "No," you said almost immediately and he frowned. "Well too bad because we're going anyway." He finally let go of the door and opened it. You glared at him as you went in and he softly smiled.

~~

He took you out for ice cream. It was nice. He was nice and complimented your dress. He took you home afterward, and surprise surprise. No Chan. "Great, I don't wanna be alone... Come inside?" He looked at your front door and then you. "Can I cash in?" Already? You weren't prepared yet. And weren't exactly ready to give it up yet. "Oh, I haven't prepped or anything." He stepped closer to you, merely inches away. "I don't need all that, just you." But why the hell not? The sooner the better.

You led him inside and up into your room, making sure to lock the door. He wandered about as you quickly went into the restroom to touch up, the door was open to keep an eye on him. You walked in after a couple minutes and he was sitting on the bed, looking at picture. One of you in elementary, playing in the grass alongside Hyunjin. "I always thought you were so pretty when you played in the grass, I never got the chance to go with you. Your protector prohibited it." You approached him slowly and sat on the bed. You pulled the picture out of his hand, "forget him. I'm here now."

His eyes scanned your face as you tossed the photo aside. You prepared yourself, first kiss, first everything would be with him. He leaned in slightly. "What if my brother finds out?" His hand slips behind your ear, tucking softly at your hair strands. "He won't," he whispers against your lips. He stares into your eyes, flickering down often back down to your lips. "God, you're so damn beautiful." He pressed his soft lips into yours, taking you whole. You sighed in relief, it's as magical as you thought it would be. Moist and soft as pillows. Connecting two bodies into one.

"Don't stop," you mumbled against his lips. And he didn't. He entered his tongue softly into your mouth, entangling his with yours. You moaned at the feeling, the pleasure intensifying and all your doubts fade away. He reaches at the bottom of your dress, pulling it up above your waist. Revealing your underwear and tugging at it. He strokes at your concealed clit, he smiles. "You're wet for me, baby?" You almost moaned at the nickname. You felt shy now that he pointed it out. "You're sure you want to go through with this? I can stop."

You don't want him to stop. "Don't you dare stop." You pulled him back into your lips. You felt him smile against your lips. He pulled your dress over your head and laid it onto the floor. You reached for his belt. He stopped you as he took it off himself. You crawled back higher in the bed for room. He undressed himself until he was in his underwear too, the beautiful scar appearing once again. You couldn't help but stare, he is beautiful you have to admit. You reached for his pants and pulled out an aluminum wrapper. Holding it in his mouth and crawled toward you seductively. You giggled as he appeared on top of you and you took the wrapper out of his mouth.

He kissed your neck which made you melt in his touch. It felt like heaven and sent tingles down your body. Intensifying the building pleasure. He reached around your back and unclipped your bra. You weren't expecting it and gasped, so easily slipping it off. He attached his lips to your breast immediately, making your back arch as he sucked on it softly. His fingers teased at your entrance, playing with your panties and slapping it against your sensitive skin. "Don't tease me," you whimpered and his eyes turned dark with lust. He grabbed the wrapper from you and slipped down his underwear. Your mouth dropped, you weren't expecting it so suddenly.

You felt compelled to look at it and dragged down your panties. He groaned as he made eye contact with your pussy. He opened the wrapper and slipped it on neatly and swift. Getting ready and you prepared as he positioned himself. He entered smoothly and you moaned aloud, you covered your mouth but he pulled it away quickly. He kept your hands above your head at your wrists and the other positioning himself into you. You felt so full. "Fuck, fuck. It feels so good." You whined out as he continued to bottom out into you. He finally stopped pushing until you. The pain and pleasure mixing.

You moaned happily and tried to break free of his hold. "God, you're fucking perfect," he whispered. The praise got you going even more. He pulled out to the tip and pushed back in. You moaned heavily again as he began to set a rhythm. "Fuck, you're gonna make me come if you keep clenching like that." You wrapped your legs around his waist to encourage him. "Cum if you want to, just keep going." You've never talked like this to anyone. He let go of his grip around your wrists and readjusted your legs. Laying your ankles onto his shoulders and holding your legs close.

He pushed back into you and you practically crumbled in his hands. The pleasure was intensified, heightened. You cried out as he mercilessly pounded into you. "Please, please" you begged although you didn't know what. His thumb rubbed against your sensitive bud and you pushed away with your hips. You whimpered out as he kept abusing your body. "What's wrong, can't take it?" He teased you which made you angry, you hate being teased especially by him. It's his favorite thing to do.

"I hate you. I hate you. I hate you." You chanted against his rhythm. "I hate you so much," you mumbled to yourself. He smirked, "keep talking and watch what's gonna happen." A challenge, you know you can't resist. "I hate that I love this so much," you laughed breathlessly, "I hate that I love you fucking me." You squealed as he turned you over onto your stomach. He pushed your neck into the sheets and arched your back, a sting on your butt appeared. You whimpered at the pain, he slid on once again and you screamed into the pillow. "Keep going," he whispered into your ear. And so you did, confessing all what you were thinking.

"I hate that you're so attractive." He pulled your hair into a bundle and moaned softly. Butterflies appeared in your stomach, he was enjoying this, enjoying you. "I hate that you know exactly how to make me crumble in your hands." Tug. "I hate that I crave you at times I shouldn't." He begins to pound up into you fast and harsh, making you a moaning mess. "I hate that I've wanted you all these years!" You want it, want it so bad. You need a release. "That's all I wanted to hear," he whispered sweetly into your ear and pulled your face to kiss him. You cried out into his mouth as he mercilessly grinded into you. He moaned loudly, his hands bracing onto your hips as his pace slowed. But he kept going, for you.

He snapped his hips into you once, twice, and you collapsed. Like a thread being cut. A knot being undone. A firework finally exploding. Release, sweet beautiful release. He talked you through it, "that's it. Just let it go, princess. You're doing so good." You relaxed in his arms, feeling him slip out of you slowly. You suddenly felt empty now, without the comfort of him. He laid you down softly onto your back. "You okay?" He cooed at you as he brushed the hair out of your perfectly happy face. You nodded your head, "what are you smiling about, hm?"

"I'm just happy." You were. He gave you an experience that you'd dream of. He pulled back to yank off the rubber, and threw it away into your bathroom trash. You got up reluctantly to pull your underwear back on. But once you felt your feet hit the ground, a sharp sensation drew up your back and you stumbled onto your knees. He came running to your laid as you laid helplessly, "ow."

~~~

You two had a conversation after, establishing some boundaries. "Okay so first off," you underlined the top of the page titled, agreement. "We are not allowed to fall for each other, no romantic feelings whatsoever." He nodded in agreement as you scribbled it along the page. "Have to show some sort of affection in public for fake dating purposes... and make a public appearance at a party or something." He sighed heavily and rolled his eyes. "It's not that hard okay? It can be a simple gesture like a kiss on the cheek or a hug." You wrote it down.

"And I get to have my benefit whenever I want." He mentioned as he snatched the paper away from you and wrote it down. "As long as it's not in front of other people, I'd rather not flash my pussy to a stranger." He chuckled at your bluntness. "Oh right one more thing," you took the paper back. "Agreement will be void once goal is made aka I get my crush or broken." He stared hard at you, confusion in his sparky eyes. "You still want that guy? After all he did?"

You shrug your shoulders, "I mean I get it. You get lonely without someone to love. And plus, now I know the benefits of having someone." You cheekily rose your eyebrows at him in a playful way. He sighed and looked away. "I don't understand why you don't want your ex back. Didn't you two love each other?" He shook his head and you laid the paper onto the table in front of you two. "Why?" He sighs, "because she isn't you." You look at him confused, scared. "She isn't you... as friends, we have a connection, we light up around each other. I don't have that connection with her. I crave a connection if I want a relationship."

You understood what he meant. You do. You two seem to always encourage each other and be confident. You're not afraid of telling him anything. He changed the subject. "So, what did you mean that you've wanted me all these years?" Oh shit. You'd forgotten about that, your ears begun to stung. Might as well come out with the truth. "Well, I've always found you attractive. I just didn't wanna admit it."

"Yeah, I kinda have that effect on people." He flicked his imaginary long hair. You cackled out at his demeanor. "So that basically means you fantasize about me, huh?" You scoffed jokingly, "okay enough Mr. Cocky," you threw a pillow at him and he laid in defeat.

You had to begun to hang out at school with each other more. His friends had grown accustomed to you now. It was working, everyone believed you two were together. But thank god it was Friday, you hate school. You were sitting at the table where his friends were, waiting for him to arrive when you noticed his ex. Glaring at you with such fire in her eyes. "Hey," Lee Know said and you jumped once you felt his hand on your back. "Hi," he pecked you on the cheek. "You okay?" You nodded, while still looking in her direction, he noticed and followed your gaze. His eyes darkened as he noticed that she was whispering to her friends while looking at you. You felt suddenly conscious of yourself.

"Imma go okay?" You said softly to him but he grabbed your wrist to stop you. "Don't go, I'll handle it." You shook your head, "it's fine. Don't ruin anything between you two because of me." His eyes screamed at you to stay but you couldn't. You couldn't stand sitting there while she talked about you. So you walked away, feeling an ache in your stomach. You went to a nearby bathroom and washed your face. You stayed in there, looking at the mirror at your clothes. 'It could be better,' you thought. Maybe you'll go shopping.

You walked out upset and bumped into a tall boy. "Sorry," you said as you pulled away. "Y/n?" You stared up at him, that familiar face. "Hey Hyunjin." You stood silent, awaiting what he would say, it seems like he's got a lot on his mind. "Look I just wanted to say about how sorry I am for the other night. It was stupid and I don't even like the girl, I swear. I cut ties with her." You sighed heavily and put your hands in your sweaters pockets. "Let's just forget about that okay?" He nodded his head and you turned to leave.

"Wait," you stopped and looked up at him once more. "How about we go out tomorrow? So I can really make it up to you. Meet me at our spot at 3?" Your spot, you haven't been there in a long time. It's a big playground, you two would always meet up there in the past and just talk. "Sure, I'll be there." You walked away and find a stray Lee know again.

"Where'd you go?" You smacked your lips, "I have news!" His eyes creased and a small smile emerged. "Hyunjin asked me to go out tomorrow, as an apology." His smile quickly faded, and his eyes dropped down to his feet. "Isn't that good? I have to go shopping after school though, for some clothes." He nodded his head quick and reached into his back pocket, pulling out his wallet. "Get something nice for yourself okay?" He hands you a couple of big bills. "No, no. I don't wanna use your money." You try to hand him it back but he pulls away. You sigh reluctantly and put the money into your pocket.

He leans forward into your ear, "maybe you can buy something nice for the two of us, hm?" You instantly knew what he meant, lingerie, and your face reddened at the thought of it. "Don't be naughty."

It was the next morning, and Lee know had shown up to question you about Hyunjin. He sat next to your floor mirror on a seat cushion. "And you'll be alone?" You rolled your eyes as you grabbed your shopping bag, pulling out the new dress you bought. It's a navy blue and tight fitted, you're planning on wearing some stockings with it so you won't be completely exposed. "You're stressing too much about this." You said while walking over to your bathroom to change, bringing the bag with you. "Yeah, because I care about you."

You began to dress behind the door as you listened. "I just don't want him to try anything funny." You walked out, over to the mirror, in front of him, "It'll be fine, it's in public." He stared at you, scanning up and down and you smiled happily at the result. "So.. do you like it?" You turned to him and did a twirl. "Love, I'm not even looking at the dress." You sucked in a breath and smiled, you lifted your hair and tried to assess if it looked good. "Hmm, hair down. Only I get to see you with your hair pulled back." You knew what he meant to that too.

Which reminded you of the surprise you had for him. You had noticed a lingerie store next to the dress store. And you gave in, picking out a white set. After all it is his money, he'll enjoy it. "Hold on, I have a surprise for you." You skipped over to the bathroom and changed into it. It hugged you beautifully, a blinged out corset top with see through panties, attached was some laced stockings. It came with a light cover dress, it was flowy and very pretty. You bit your bottom lip as you gazed at yourself. Definitely out of your comfort zone, but so is everything.

"What's taking so long-" He pushed open the door and his face practically dropped. His eyes didn't know where to land. You shifted on your heels, "do you like it?" He said no words. He lifted you up from your legs and hung you over his shoulder. "Hey, what are you doing!" You screamed out and kicked your legs, it was useless. He dropped you onto your bed and quickly ran to your room door, locking it. You didn't know what he was doing, you only assumed. He wants to fuck you again.

"Get on your knees," he ordered you without hesitation. You've never seen him like this, so dominant. You slowly dragged yourself onto the floor. Gradually getting onto your knees, you looked up at him through your lashes. He slowly unzipped his pants and you gulped. You know what he wants. He pushed down his pants to his ankles along with his boxers. You stared at his length, rock hard. "You have no idea what you do to me," he said as he stroked your cheek. It felt so innocent in this setting, it soothed you. He wrapped his hand around himself and pressed it to your lips. "You know what to do."

You parted your lips slightly and pressed a soft kiss onto him. You moved his hand out of your way, replacing it with yours. And slowly, seductively, teasingly, you kitty licked at his tip. He hissed as he watched you. He grabbed your hair into a ball, holding it out of the way to enjoy the show. Finally, you pushed him into your mouth, you held down your tongue and tried your best not to gag. It was impossible and caused your eyes to fill with tears. "Fuck," he muttered under his breath, and he tugged on your hair aggressively, pushing your head. You didn't care, he can use you all he likes.

"Fuck, I need you right now." You hummed against him and he moaned out loud. You were beginning to feel a glow in between your legs. He pushed your mouth off of him and you got onto the bed. He threw his shirt off and you could cum at the sight, he's so breathtaking. He ripped your sheer dress off you, "hey don't ruin it!" He growled, "my money, my girl, I can do what the hell I want." You're not his girl, you were about to correct him when he pushed aside your panties. One of his fingers entering inside of you and you moaned. Prepping you for him.

He took out a condom and once again slipped one on with one hand, what an expert. He planted his hand next to your head and kissed you softly, his kisses were always so gentle. He slipped into you, beginning a rhythm and you moaned loudly into his mouth. He pulled away, "I feel that good?" You nodded your head quick and did not even try to be quiet. Your arms slipped around his neck and you closed your eyes in pure bliss. He was grunting hard, like he was gonna finish soon. But you knew he would keep going even if he did. He started to go faster while his moans were getting louder. You felt a slight shoot get blocked off and the condom fill up.

You felt a rush of pleasure come over you, you felt your high coming in close. You started to whimper out and clawed out his back. He then began to trickle kisses down your neck but you felt a slight sucking sensation. "Don't," you said breathlessly, "I'm still going out after this." He stopped and you saw how angry his expression was. His rhythm slowed down unexpectedly and you made eye contact with him. "Keep going. I'm so close," you begged him. "Uh, uh. You want to go out still? You don't get to finish." And he denied you of finishing. He pulled out of you.

You groaned, annoyed. "Why are you so mean?" You whined as he moved away from you. He smiles, "because," and kisses your cheek. You frown. He took off his condom and threw it in the bin next to your bed, you had planned ahead by putting one there. But you had your own ideas. As he laid beside you and stared at the ceiling, your hand slipped off your panties. Your hand slipped down between your folds, and circled your clit. You moaned out as you stared at Lee know, making eye contact. He shook his head disapprovingly. You were only to this to make him realize he made a mistake.

"Mm, Lee know," his name slipped out of your lips so easily. You made sure to sound as breathless as possible. It was working as you saw he was getting hard again. "I won't engage," he told you but you knew he was lying. "Fine," you stopped and got on top of him. "You won't play with me?" You grabbed his now hard length and held it lined up to your entrance. "Y/n, don't. I'm not wearing-" You ignored him as you slid down slowly. You braced yourself onto his stomach and moaned out pathetically, why did he never let you experience it raw before? It's addictive.

He feels crazy good. You can feel every ridge and curve. Everything hits the right spot. "Oh my god," you gripped onto his chest. "Oh my god," you screamed out in glee. The build up is threatening to snap, and you love how it's feels right before it does. "Thats it, my love. Let it out," he whispered sweetly to you. Snap. And you go falling down onto him.

~~~

He begged you not to go, but you weren't going to stand up Hyunjin. You couldn't... At least not without an explanation. You walked over to the park, he was no where to be found. Your phone began to ring, unknown caller. You answered it, "hello?" There was a sudden burst of laughter, a girl. "Oh y/n. Did you really think he was gonna go? You're quite stupid to think that." You recognized the voice, Lee knows ex. "He ditched me?" There was a noise of scramble on the other side. "Hello y/n." Hyunjin. You gritted your teeth. "I like your dress, very revealing. Did you go shopping for me?" You looked around and saw no one, suddenly you felt cold and began to walk out of the park.

"Why are you doing this?" He laughed softly to himself. "It's payback, you betrayed me by getting with Lee know." Anger began to pelt up inside you, "I never betrayed you. You betrayed me." He laughed once again. "But something smells fishy doesn't it? I think it's you." Just then you turned when a loud car pasted by, the window was down. Splash. You were hit with a bucketload of water. You gasped as you fell to the ground from the weight. You screamed when you saw a fish had been through with it. You didn't know what to do, you ran.

Home. You don't know where that is. All you knew was him. You needed him. His comfort. His words. You needed to go to him.

~~~

You knocked on his door repeatedly and rang the doorbell. Clutching your soaked body and sobbing out. The door swung open fast, when his eyes landed on you. He had a look who could kill. "Who did this to you?" You didn't want to answer. You knew he would go after him and that's the last thing you wanted. "It's none of your business." You said calmly. "You're my fucking business. What happened?" He spit out his words and tears flowed down your cheeks once again. "I'm gonna kill him." He stormed past you but you clutched onto his arm. "Please don't leave me. I need you here."

His gaze softened and immediately took you into his arms. "I'm not gonna leave you, I swear." You smelled, really bad. But he didn't care. He held you for so long. You wish he would never let go. "Come on, let's get you cleaned up." He led you inside and into his bathroom. He lives alone. You remember that, no siblings, parents gone. It must be awfully lonely. He sat you down on the toilet lid while he turned on the water for a bath. Putting bubbles in it. You laughed amused to yourself, he has bubbles for himself?

He looked confused at you, "feeling better?" Your face fell sullen again. "Get undressed," he said and pulled you off the seat. You pulled the dress off and the stockings. He picked them up and waited for you to take off the rest. You turned away from him and took off your underwear. You got into the water and sat down. He left with your clothes and came back with his own, a hoodie and some shorts. Sigh, no underwear. He was respectful when he came over to you, only looked at your face. Nothing else. He scrubbed you clean and gently rubbed shampoo into your hair.

You could've done it yourself but he insisted. He said he felt bad for letting you go. For letting them get to you. "I'm sorry this happened y/n." At least one person actually cares for you. He left so you can dry yourself and get dressed. After you did, you walked into his living room. Wandering around his place and found him in the kitchen. He had a pan of butter grilling, while he was cutting some freshly washed asparagus. "Hey, hope you like steak,' he said as you walked to his side. There was a plate of seasoned meat sitting next to the cutting board. "You're the whole package, huh. Everything a girl would hope for." He laughed softly, "hope she comes soon."

~~~

You had slept at his place that night, after having a full tummy and a movie night on his couch. You got to talking. "Tell me a lie that you've told yourself all your life." He asked while putting an arm on the couch behind your back. You smile softly, "that we can't be friends. I should've given you a chance a long time ago." You laid your head against his arm, your body still facing him. "So you don't hate me anymore?" You didn't want to admit it so you just smiled and looked down.

"Say you hate me, y/n." You glared at him, challenge in your eyes. "Say it," he curved his head and gave you a stern look. You tried to lose your smile but laughed when you said, "I hate you." His tone was playful. "Say it like you mean it." A smile crept up on your lips, "I can't."

You two were silent now. "I don't hate you Lee know. I guess your charm has finally won me over." He pulled your body close to his, "good. We can finally be friends now, best friends." Your eyes began to drop, heavy with sleep, "Yeah, I would like that." You fell asleep. And woke up in his bed.

"Good morning sleepy head," he said sitting up. You stretched out, looking down at his hoodie. Forgetting that you had it. "What time is it?" You mumbled and rubbed your eyes. "Time to wake up," he said while grabbing his phone. "Look at this," he flashed a photo up at you, a picture of you lying on his chest. "Delete it," he shook his head. "It's my new wallpaper." You tackled him, attempting to snatch the phone out of his hand. You huffed once he shoved it into his bedside drawer. "Come here," he whispered and motioned to his lap. He pulled you over, and you laid onto him, straddling on him.

You set your head between the cradle of his neck and shoulder. Your arms resting around his neck. This feels nice. Comforting. "Thank you," you grazed your fingertips against his arms. His arms wrapped around your waist. "For what?" His chest flowed up and down, "for being here, with me." He hummed and traced his hand up your spine. "You're being so sweet all of a sudden." Your head slowly raised and your thumb lined his lips, "I'm just happy I have you." He looked at you suspiciously, "you want something don't you?"

Your eyes snapped up at him and he tilted his head in confusion. You smiled, he caught you, "feel like exploring?" He sighed and tried to look annoyed. He looked up at you with a soft look and stroked your cheek, "I didn't think you would want to do anything.. Aren't you tired?" You shook your head, you leaned forward to his neck. Removed his hands from your cheek and sprinkled kisses. He pulled back and you frowned, "I want you to do what I did for you the other day.. the stuff with my mouth?" His tongue rolled inside, along his cheek. He cheekily smiled, "You want me to do that to you?" You nodded your head and pouted.

"Aww, anything for you," he rolled you over onto your back. He pressed his lips against yours softly, igniting you. You pulled him to stay, gripping his sleeves. You moaned against his lips once you felt his hand pulling at your shorts. "I like seeing you in my clothes," he whispered against your lips. "I like being in them," you teased him back, "but I'd rather not have any on with you." He tilted his head once again in surprise. You took the opportunity to scatter your mouth against his neck. This time he cooperated. "You're becoming more and more like me."

You smiled against his neck and began to suck against the sensitive skin. He pulled away after a few seconds, he looked down at you, "oh so when you do it, it's okay?" You shrugged your shoulders, "you can do it to me if you want." He immediately got to action. He pressed his lips to your neck, you felt yourself flush. He sucking harshly and you winced softly, he kissed down your collarbones and lifted your shirt. Sucking on your breasts, it seemed it was letters of some sort.

He finally stopped after a while, he kissed your lips. "Ready?" You smiled and he crawled down your body. Your hands laid on your chest comfortably. Once his wet lips pressed against your inner thigh, you gasped. You almost closed your thighs in surprise. "Just relax for me, baby." You did and released the tension. He softly laid your legs onto his back. You could feel his hot breath on your core and it was driving you crazy. Finally, he set his lips onto you. Your hands crashed into his hair.

He kissed your clit softly causing your body to jolt. His eyes looked up at you, dark and sparkling. He looks perfect like this. You grab your phone from the bedside table, he put it there to you. A capture an array of pictures of him, "do I look pretty?" He asks and you nod your head. His tongue makes its way and pushes into you. The pressure building in your stomach. You set the phone down beside you. He attacked your clit again, sucking and kissing while his fingers entered inside you. It was too much, your body enjoyed it too much. You let go. Cracked.

You felt light headed, minutes, hours seemed to pass by in a second. "Holy shit, are you okay?" You nodded your head and a warm presence kissed your cheek. You cooled down and hugged his body close to yours. "Feel like going out tonight?" He asked softly, looking into your eyes lovingly. "Yeah, but I want more." You said as you pulled the covers over you two.

~

"I have nothing to wear!" You cried out in your closet. "You have plenty of clothes, you just went shopping." You searched in the pile of clothes on your floor, "I don't know if I want to wear a skirt or a dress or pants." He sighed heavily, "it's gonna rain tonight." You frowned and picked up a pair of pants, better to be comfy than cold. "I'll would wear a revealing top to better the outfit. But someone decided to leave hickeys that say MINE on me." You pulled out a shirt and showed him it. He crossed his arms, "wear what you want. I can fight."

You hit him with the shirt, "there will be no fighting tonight. I want just want to chill and enjoy a beer." You pull the clothes on quickly and turn to him, shooting him a look that says 'how do I took?' "You look beautiful," he cringes immediately after the compliment leaves his lips and you giggle to yourself. "Wow, can't say anything nice without cringing."

~

The party was pretty boring. No fights. No arguments. Just what you wanted. Just a night to chill with some friends and your brother. Chan questioned you about where you were, "you were gone the whole night." You pushed him away, "like you're not gone for days at a time. I had a rough night and crashed at a friend's." He seemed to believe you and moved on. It was technically true. Lee know is your friend.. friend with benefits? Fuck buddy? Best friend? One of those.

You walked over to a group where Lee know was chatting with his buddies. They tried to tease him by lifting up his shirt but he quickly dodged their attempts. "Come on guys. You know he doesn't like anyone touching or seeing his scar," Chan scolded. Your eyes darted to Lee know. He doesn't? But he let you, he didn't care when you saw him, saw his scar. When you traced your fingers along it. "Whatever, I need a drink." He walked away from the group and he grazed along your arm for you to follow. You did, and immediately questioned him, "I didn't know you didn't like when people touch you there." He didn't answer for a while. "I don't." You whispered softly to him as he grabbed a cup. "But you let me."

"Isn't it obvious y/n?" He took a big gulp out of his cup, chugging it down. "What is?" He looked into your eyes, searching for something, something that you should already know the answer to. "Never mind," he shook his head off and began pouring himself another drink. "No, what? Tell me." You snatched the cup out of his hands and he almost pouted. He leaned against the table, "I'd only let you because... I have a soft spot for you, I think you know the reason why." You blinked heavily, "but I want you to tell me, not for me to just guess." You looked down at the beer in your hands and took a small sip, it's bitter.

"I'll tell you later," he grabbed the cup back from you and took a sip. "You either tell me now or never." You walked away from him, he followed behind and you went outside. To have an actual private conversation. Its raining. You stopped at the end of the driveway, next to your brother's car, and awaited his answer. His hands were in his pockets and he stared at the ground. Water dripping down his hair and body naughtily. "So?" He looked up and shook his head, you sighed heavily. "God, you're such a coward." He furrows his brows, "excuse me?"

"You're a fucking coward. You talk all this nonsense saying you're sure about yourself and you're really not. You're pathetic." He raised his tone, "fine you really want to know?" You stood, wet, the question was seeping into your skin.

"I love you y/n."

You blinked a thousand times again. You stepped back and shook your head in disbelief. Disappointment. You both agreed that your relationship wouldn't go past any feelings. "Is that so hard to believe?" He said since you weren't saying anything. "I thought we agreed no strings attached, that this would never turn into something." He groaned and his hands flew up into his face, rubbing against it crazily. "How could you have not known, y/n? All these years I've waited for you, tried to get your attention just so you would look at me, like me!" You swallowed down a build up in your throat, feeling a heavy feeling. "It's you, y/n. It's always been you. Why can't you see it?"

"I don't chase girls, I never have. I never wanted to. But I'm chasing you." You fist your hands into a ball. He tries to approach you but you push him away. "Don't push me away," he pleads. "I'd like to go home now." You said bluntly. His eyes saddened, glassy with tears. You walked to his car, the rain was pouring down even harder. You turned angrily at him. "Why? Why now? Why did you never tell me this!" He shakes his head, "I didn't know how to say it." He paused. "But it's true, I love you y/n. And I never want to stop saying it." Tears begin to mix with the rain pouring down your cheeks. "I have loved you ever since I have known you."

"You're fucked up, you're fucking everything up!" He nodded his head and walked in a different direction, past you. You chased after him. "Don't walk away when I'm talking to you." He stopped next to his car, "what is there to talk about? I know you don't like me." The feeling in your chest was heavy, you know what you have to do. What to say. You find the words in your heart, you know what you feel for him. "I love you." He stops. "You're actually stupid if you don't realize how much I love you," you add and smile.

You look into his eyes, his mesmerizing eyes. "But I have to make sure, that you really do love me-" "yes." He cuts you off so sure of himself, like it's as easy as breathing. "Yes, I love you y/n," he runs up to you and involves you into a kiss. It's sweet and soft, butter against your lips. "There's never gonna be anyone but you." You smile, a smile so big and genuine, you feel as if you're floating. It dawns on you, "my brother is going to kill me when he finds out." He laughs against your lips, "don't worry about that."

~~~~~~~~

[lovebugism]

✶ ┄ FIX IT !

summary: you thought you were over it, the whole steve-and-nancy thing. spoiler alert: you aren't. pairing: steve harrington / f!reader word count: 3.5k warning: angst. gut wrenching angst. with a sort of happy ending. a/n: i'm such a sucker for angst it's gotta be unhealthy at this point. anyway, shout out to all my angsty fic enjoyers. let's read this and cry together <3

Having four roommates and only two bathrooms was worth it if it meant getting out of Hawkins. The apartment was a quaint little thing just outside of Indianapolis — up four flights of stairs with no elevator, cracks in the walls, and a stellar view of an alleyway.

But it was nice to have a place all your own. Sharing it with all your best friends was even better. That was the dream after all, wasn’t it? And being with Steve — that was just the cherry on top of it all.

So you weren’t going to let your mean, green, and envious heart ruin the new life you and your friends were trying to build in this tiny apartment.

You didn’t even think yourself the jealous type. Not until you realized that Steve was going to live under the same roof as his ex-girlfriend. It was dumb and it was irrational and you just couldn’t shake it.

It was probably a whole lot harder for Steve than it was for you, really. Besides, it had been years since they were together. Both of them had moved on, both of them had new and blossoming relationships.

Jonathan was good to Nancy. And to you, Steve was… well he was perfect. More importantly, he was yours. 

So it really shouldn’t bother you.

And it didn’t. Not for a while. 

Not until Nancy and Jonathan broke up out of nowhere and he’d announced to all of you on movie night that he was moving out.

He said that he missed California too much, that Argyle was getting lonely all the way out there, and that he had a spare room at his place. You couldn’t tell if that was the truth or just some bullshit excuse.

Maybe both.

What made it worse is that Nancy hadn’t seemed all that upset about it. Hell, you were more sad about him leaving than she was.

She told you as much during your weekly designated wine night (the one where you and her and Robin got drunk on cheap wine, while the rest of the boys fucked off and got drunker on cheaper beer).

“It didn’t hurt as bad as I thought it would,” she’d confessed with a shrug, only slightly tipsy and cheeks pink with it. “We… drifted apart, I guess. Just felt right to end it.”

You and Robin spent the rest of the night comforting her, anyway.

She loved Jonathan, everyone knew that. It sort of came with the whole shared trauma thing. She had to be at least a little bit sad that her person was gone, but she hid it away from the rest of you like it was her job.

But when the days got really bad, and she found herself missing Jonathan more than she liked, she sought refuge in Steve. Your Steve. 

And it made sense. He knew her better than the rest of you.

But it didn’t mean it hurt any less.

A sick feeling twists in your stomach when Steve accompanies the girl on a liquor store run without her having to ask. You watch with your heart in your throat when he leaves with her in the dead of night — a swirling bubble of jealousy in the pit of your chest with an ache so palpable you can taste it.

You spend the next several minutes trying not to look as sad as you feel while Eddie can’t stop debating on what the two of them might be talking about.

Nancy had been more reserved as of late, carrying a rain cloud over her as she wandered through the apartment like a ghost — he concludes they’re just going out to spill some hot goss. Robin makes him promise to never say those string of words ever again while you quietly dismiss yourself to your bedroom.

Nancy and Steve have been gone for an hour.

Lying in the dark and staring up at the textured, water-stained ceiling, you start to do the math. Fifteen minutes there, fifteen minutes back with traffic — but the streets are usually bare after nine o’clock. Either way, that leaves a half hour spent trying to choose what alcohol to splurge on.

You’ve seen Nancy try to pick out wine, she’s indecisive and a perfectionist to boot. She could spend hours dissecting each bottle to find the perfect one, if Robin wasn’t constantly over her shoulder rushing her.

Maybe that’s why Nancy had declined when the girl offered to tag along with them.

Or maybe she just wanted to be alone with Steve—

You have to physically shake that thought from your head. But even when you shut your eyes, it’s like the image of him and Nancy making out in the back of her Station Wagon is ingrained in the depths of your mind.

You curl into yourself and bathe in the depths of the dark abyss you’ve created in your bedroom, trying to see your way out of your handcrafted turmoil like a bad cold.

When Nancy and Steve return, they come cradling paper bags in their arms like babies.

Robin relieves the latter of the load in his hands and follows the darker-haired girl into the kitchen connected to the living room, no larger than a decent-sized closet.

Steve notices the lack of your presence as soon as he walks through the door. When he’d left, the three of you were pregaming — a feat that often led to Eddie breaking out his guitar and you and him singing terribly off-key to whatever was playing on the radio.

Now you’re nowhere to be found, and he feels it like a missed meal. He feels the ache of your absence like an empty stomach.

“Where’d she go?” Steve asks Eddie, who’s lounging on the couch and taking up the entire space — legs spread and arms thrown over the back.

The curly-haired boy takes a noisy sip of his nearly gone beer. Then exhales rather dramatically when he sits the can on his thigh. It leaves a damp ring on the denim. “Hey, buddy... Just blow in from stupid town?”

“…What?”

Eddie rolls his eyes, already annoyed and knowing more than he lets on. “She’s in her room, dingus.”

“She okay?” Steve wonders with furrowed brows, uncaring of the use of the stupid nickname because there’s bigger things to worry about apparently.

It wasn’t like you to miss a night of drinking. He gets momentarily fearful that you’d gotten sick while he was away, that he wasn’t around to help you if you had.

“Why don’t you ask her?” Eddie lilts with wide eyes, like it’s a bright idea that neither of them would’ve thought of otherwise.

His sarcasm makes Steve roll his eyes, but he heeds the boy’s words anyway.

Through the short hallway and the last door on the right, he finds you in the darkness of your shared bedroom, illuminated only by the orange streetlight that filters through the blinds. You're hid beneath the covers, a little lump on the mattress. 

He idles in the doorway and waits for you to react to his presence.

You don’t.

“Hey, babe,” he greets cautiously after concluding you just hadn’t heard the door squeak open upon his arrival. “You feel okay?”

You mumble something he can’t quite make out. He takes the raised infliction as an affirmative and shifts his weight on his feet because it’s unlike you to be so one-note with him.

“Well, I, uh— I bought some of that wine you like... I couldn’t remember if you liked the blackberry or blueberry, so I ended up just getting both, you know, just in case.”

“Okay,” you respond after several agonizing seconds. Your voice sounds so fragile in the still darkness. Like he didn’t already know something was wrong.

He so desperately wants to pry but chooses to err on the side of caution for now, out of fear of turning the bad, worse.

“You wanna come down and try it with me? If you don’t like it we can always go back—”

“I’m okay,” you interrupt gently, with a tone so soft and coated with so much emotion that it makes his heart sink. You’re anything but and he knows it.

“Okay,” he nods anyway with the hope that he can pull you from this funk you’d managed to fall into. “Do you, uh… Do you want me to stay in here with you?”

He hears your deep sigh and sees the way the wad of blankets rises and falls again. A telltale sign of your annoyance. He knows then that he’s overstayed his welcome.

Your voice remains quiet but loses its kindness when you tell him: “You can do whatever you want, Steve.”

He’s hurt by the way you’re so suddenly short with him, then angered because he didn’t do anything to deserve it in the first place.

“Okay, what’s wrong with you? What did I do?”

You don’t answer. You just sigh again, the same really big, dramatic one that’s more to showcase your irritation with him than anything else.

You’re more than keen to end the conversation right there, but Steve isn’t. Not when something’s eating you away from the inside out and he can’t do anything to help you because you won’t let him. 

“Babe, c’mon. I get it, alright? You’re mad at me. Just tell me what I did wrong so I can fix it.”

“You can’t fix it,” you monotone, stifled beneath the covers.

“I can’t fix it?” he repeats with furrowed brows. “What do you mean, I can’t fix it?”

You use your silence as an answer, as a weapon. It’s almost worse than any silver-tongued reply you could've given him. The quiet forces him to think for himself and imagine all the things he could’ve done wrong that he can’t take back. It feels like quicksand.

Did he forgot to kiss you good morning? Of course, he didn’t — actually, he gets mad at you for forgetting — and you were golden before he left. Eddie probably said something stupid, that was likely. Or maybe Robin made a joke that upset you, that was even more likely. 

He figures it’s something in between all those. Something silly that feels like the end of the world. He can make it better. He always makes it better.

Steve lifts the lump of covers you shield yourself with and crawls beneath them with the intention of pulling you out of the void you’ve sunken into.

It’s not so comfortable, lying in bed in socks and jeans and a collared shirt, but he doesn’t need to feel good right now — you do. He’ll be content if he can just hold you in his arms for a couple of hours, the rest of the night if that’s what you need.

But he can’t even do that.

He reaches for your arm, fingers just barely trailing across the warm skin there, and you jerk away from him like he’s shocked you.

It startles him, how quick you are to avoid him. It has him jerking back too, because you’ve never denied him the opportunity to touch you. He becomes the same sort of storm cloud that you are now, because he doesn’t know what he did to deserve this. Any of it.

“Why are you doing this?” he asks you, less soft than he’d been before.

You sniffle. “I told you I didn’t want you going out alone with Nancy anymore,” you mumble, face still shoved into your pillow. The words are slightly muffled but he can hear the tears that coat your voice. 

“That’s what this is about?” he wonders, not as empathetic as you’d hoped he might be, but genuinely confused. With your back to him, you don’t see the smile pulling at his lips while he shakes his head, like it’s funny to him. “Babe, we were just getting drinks. It’s no different than you going out with Robin.”

“It’s totally different! Because I was never in love with Robin. She was never in love with me—”

“Well, I beg to differ,” he murmurs in a soft laugh.

“It’s not funny, Steve,” you retort wetly and then sniffle again. When you turn to face him, he sees for the first time what he’s done to you.

The orange of the streetlight lamp outside bathes you in a sunset shade of neon — your eyes are glassy with tears that gather at your lashes. Emotions glow at the tip of your nose and your cheeks. Your skin would be hot to the touch if he felt you now.

“Do you know how weird it is for me? To watch my boyfriend and his ex go fuck around with me?” you ask him with a scrunched nose and brows, like your trying to keep yourself from falling apart in front of him.

“It’s not like that and you know it,” Steve scolds. “She just wanted to get alcohol for tonight and had some shit to get off her chest. I mean, she’s been having a really hard time lately—”

“It’s not your job to take care of her, Steve!” you shout before you even realize you’re shouting. You take in a shuddered breath and let it out in a trembling sigh, shining eyes flitted away from him and towards the ceiling as you calm yourself down.

When you start your lament again, you’re quieter.

“You can’t just be this, like, emotional crutch for her every single time something’s wrong. She’ll just get invested in you all over again and…”

Steve watches from beside you, propped up on his elbow, as you trail off. The frown between your eyebrows deepens, a great and inquisitive crevice, while your eyes widen and your mouth falls softly agape — like you’ve discovered something in the midst of your rant.

“Is— Is that what you want?” you ask him then. “Do you, like, need her attention to feed your ego or something?”

He’s too offended by your words to tell you all the ways they aren’t true. “What? No! Why would you say that?”

“Because it’s embarrassing, Steve.”

“What is?”

“Watching you and her together!” you admit through a tightening throat. You rise from where you’d been laying down and Steve follows you, settling in front of you as you wrap your arms around your knees. “When I have to sit here, by myself, while you guys spend time alone. When she always knows what you’re up to, and I don’t—”

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes quietly, because he doesn’t know what else to say.

“—It’s not fair. She’s not your girlfriend, Steve, I am. It’s your job to take care of me, not her.”

Steve deflates like a popped balloon. His chin falls to his chest and his eyes squeeze shut at the weight of your words.

It’s like you’re reminding him that he’s supposed to be in love with you and not someone he cared for a long time ago. Like you felt the need to remind him because you thought he’d forgotten somewhere down the line.

It hurts him too. It feels like you’ve got his heart in your hands and you're wringing it in your grip.

“You’re right,” Steve concedes with a nod. “I just... I guess, I never thought about it like that.”

He feels the same way, too, sometimes. When you and Eddie go all buddy-buddy mode and want to spend time together.

When you’re out all night with him at band practice. When you’re attached at the hip and having sleepovers in his room to talk about everything and nothing for hours until you fall asleep when the sun rises. When you both come down at one in the afternoon the next day for breakfast, giggling about the thing you said the night before.

It makes him feel like he’s missing out. Like you’re sharing parts of yourself with someone else and he isn’t allowed to see it.

And sometimes he gets irrational — keeps himself up all night as he imagines you and Eddie making out on his floor after going through all his new tapes or fucking in his unmade bed while he keeps a hand on your mouth to keep you quiet.

Steve concocts waking nightmares for himself whenever you’re not beside him.

But even then, it’s different. Because he used to do all that shit with Nancy. They fell in love, made out for hours because they didn’t want to stop feeling each other, had sex on a twin-sized bed and tried to keep from falling out of it while they did.

You’d never done that shit with Eddie — or with anyone you’re now sharing a home with. Besides Steve.

Because he’s yours now. And you’re his.

But you can’t stop thinking about how he used to be Nancy’s too.

“I don’t need you to tell me that I’m right,” you murmur with the childlike shake of your head, slow and lazy, as you wipe your wet cheek on your shoulder. “I need you to do something about it— I needed you to do something about it a long time ago.”

“I will, okay? I will. I promise. I’ll fix it,” Steve assures you quickly, with wide and hopeful eyes and a nodding head that makes his hair flop against his forehead.

He can see you losing hope in front of him, like a flame going slowly out. You’re slipping away. He keeps fighting to keep a hold of you.

“No.”

“…No?”

“You can’t,” you sniffle. “You can’t fix it.”

“Baby—”

“It’s not fair. To either of us,” you tell him, looking at him through clumped together lashes and heavy, sparkling eyes. “And it’s not your fault, okay? But I can’t keep feeling this like. It’s not healthy— this isn’t… this is what a healthy relationship is supposed to look like. It shouldn’t feel like this.”

Steve blinks back stinging tears. He brings his hand to his face and rubs the back of it against his burning nose. He feels a bit like you do now, hopeless. You’re slipping away and he is too and you both just keep on slipping, just going going going.

“You’re not even—” he clears his throat when his voice breaks halfway through. “You’re not even gonna let me try?”

You shrug weakly. Tears burn as they gather at your waterline. You revel in the sting because it’s better than the hole ripping through your chest.

“I don’t know. I think… I think it’s too late.”

“Why would you say that?” Steve agonizes with the shake of his head, looking like a wounded puppy as he gaze at you with brown eyes full of hurt. “Don’t say that. Don’t.”

“Steve—”

“No,” he interjects firmly, stopping the spiral before it can start again.

He positions himself so he’s sitting further ahead of you and holds your arms in his numbing hands, ducking down to catch your gaze when you try to look away from him.

“I love you, okay? I’m an idiot and I’m sorry and I'm stupid, alright? I wasn’t thinking. But we can’t just… It’s not too late. I can fix this. I promise I can fix this.”

Your chest aches at his plea, at the way he still doesn’t understand.

It’s not his fault you feel this way, not entirely. It’s not anyone’s fault and that’s what’s so scary. There’s no one to blame the pain on, no root to cut out and put an end to it. You’re frightened that it’s always going to be there, constantly in the way, forbidding either of you from ever moving on.

“Steve...” you murmur through tears while the boy gathers you in his arms. You try to stop him but your voice gets caught in your throat halfway through. Because you don’t want him to stop. Not ever.

He nurses you into his velvet hold, wrapping a pair of strong arms around you to cage you against him. He presses his nose into your temple while he rocks you back and forth. “I promise. Everything’s okay. I’ll fix it.”

He repeats that like a mantra while you keep your head pressed against his chest — everything’s gonna be okay, I can fix it, I love you.

It’s a promise. One that he’d rather die than break. 

You stay there, curled against his chest, while dark feelings ebb and flow in a constant and bitter cycle.

You hope he’s right. That these big feelings are just big stupid feelings that'll pass come the pink and blue sunrise. That everything really is going to be okay and that he really can fix it. 

Because even now, all hopeless and full of doom and gloom, you feel soothed in his hold. You’ve never felt safer anywhere else. You’ve built a home in the peace of Steve’s arms and you want to keep on living in them.

“I’m gonna make it better,” he whispers against the crown of your head. If you’ll let me.

He feels you nod lazily against him. “Okay.”

[killerpancakeburger]

Dating Soap HCS: (Combatant!Reader)

A/N: Shoving in there all the thoughts I've had about him and couldn't squeeze into my current fic ideas.

When I say Combatant!Reader, I mean they can fight/kill/use a gun but aren't part of the Task Force nor a soldier.

SFW:

Two words: power couple. You guys could take on the world if you wanted, so good for the world that you’re part of the good guys.

Soap is one of those freaks who’s out of bed by 6 a.m on his days off and starts the day with a jog. He can’t help it, he’s got energy to spare and is addicted to the endorphin he gets from it. Before meeting him you’d have said that a partner up so early was a pain; but how could you be mad at him when he takes such care to not wake you up, and has coffee and a mouth-watering breakfast ready when you emerge? You enter the kitchen where he rewards you with the luscious view of his sculpted body covered in sweat, having already shed his shirt, then sneaks an arm around your shoulders to press an adoring kiss against your temple, along with a “G’morning, Bonnie.” before heading to the shower.

Sometimes you show up unannounced on base - well not completely unannounced cause you’d get shot -, barge into the sparring room like you own the place - and considering the company you keep, you might as well -, and hit all its occupants with a “What’s up losers?”. Before anyone else can react, Soap’s already leaping over the ring’s ropes and running to you, hugging you with so much enthusiasm that your feet leave the ground. “Ye didnae say ye were comin’!” His voice booms with unadulterated joy. “Yeah, that’s called a surprise MacTavish. Now let go of me, you stink.” He throws you a cocky, challenging smirk at that: “Make me.” His voice is way lower, intended for your ears only this time. The glint in his eyes, as he’s staring right into yours, is just as provocative as his smile. You retort with your own. “I could, but I would hate to humiliate you in front of the new recruits, Sergeant.” Cue Ghost, joining you by walking like a civilised human being, and already sick of your flirting. “If you two are done makin’ a spectacle of yourselves, we could have a smoke outside.” There’s no real heat to his words though.

During some evenings at the base when Ghost snuck up God only knows where, Soap, Gaz and you compete to see who can do the best impression of the Lieutenant. Soap’s in the lead with the advantage to be the one having exchanged the most words with Simon, but you’re confident you can turn it around.

Will touch you all the fucking time (except on missions), whether it’s an arm around your shoulder, or your waist, or a hand in the back pocket of your pants, or holding your hand. Will restrain himself if you’re against it but if he can’t cuddle in private he will be sad.

No PDA on missions, but he will definitely flirt over coms. You’re both skilled enough that you can afford to fuck around a bit while still doing your job expertly.

Talking about flirting, he is smooth… until the other person reciprocates. Then he needs a moment to get back in the saddle after short-circuiting. 

Fervently loyal. If someone comes onto him, he will reject them frankly. And if they dare to bad-mouth you, they’re getting an earful from him.

The rare fights you have are intense but brief. He always wants to apologise as soon as possible afterwards but he gives you your space if you need it. 

You patch each other up after missions. One day you pore over each other’s scars during a lazy morning in bed, asking how the other got them.

He loooves seeing you put assholes in their place. He’s so fucking proud and aroused. Tend to snap at them faster than you though. And if you’re not in the mood to fight, he will gladly take over. “You know I can fight. Pleaaase let me fight”

Your #1 supporter. Will Smith showing off his wife.meme. He admires you a lot. Not as much as Ghost, sure, but that’s still a lot. If you wanna try new things, especially thrills inducing ones like canyoning or bungee jumping, or push back your own limits in the gym or in combat prowess, he’s always down and so, so enthusiastic. First because he’s so thrilled to share these with you, and second because he relishes in seeing you become a better version of yourself and/or the person you wanna be.

He’s proud of his job and will rant about it for hours if you ask about it. Especially explosions. Your idea of a romantic evening is taking in the sunset with a couple of explosions fireworks. 

He’s a freaking sunshine and sometimes the light feels blinding. You worry you’re bringing him down. He has such an optimistic outlook on life, and you… simply don’t. You also fear that one day he realises he’s too good for you, whether it’s in terms of looks, personality, morals, or mental resilience… he’s always quick to appease your worries though. 

Not getting along with the TF would be a deal breaker. Not that he’s expecting you to become BFF with Ghost or anything, that role is already taken by him

Will not hesitate to use his sad puppy eyes on you. Or even pout. To get what he wants.

He demands a kiss for good luck before every mission, a bit lOUDLY, which makes Ghost rolls his eyes and Gaz makes gagging sounds. Price is just like "Lord Give Me Patience".

NSFW:

Don’t be afraid to (wo)manhandle him: pulling his hair, slamming him against a wall, grabbing his jaw… that will make him moan more often than not. 

Call him a good/pretty boy, praise him, tease him, make him beg… He will tease back to challenge you but it just means you should keep going.

He’s a good soldier, he follows orders well. Do with that what you will.

Endless stamina. Will wear you out first every time.

Gets off when he gets you off.

Did I mention that he’s terribly competitive? Will ask you what’s the highest number of orgasms you had in one night and will immediately try to beat that record. 

If he doesn't make you laugh at least once during the do, he has FailedTM 😔

[kikiyoomis]

"what do even you like about me?"

sakusa is taken aback from your sudden question. the two of you were laying on bed, individually scrolling through your respective phones just before bed. there was nothing during the day that would've suggested your change in mood.

sakusa shuts his phone off and places it on the nightstand beside him before pulling you into his embrace.

"like? baby i'm so in love with you that there's nothing that i only 'like' about you," sakusa says while he buries his face into your neck.

"yea but... i'm not even that... special. i'm not super pretty or talented or smart or-" you say before the words are caught in your throat and tears starts to form.

"i feel like i just got lucky. like... why would you settle for someone like me?" you whisper.

you've had these thoughts for a while. before they only came up when you were going through a rough time with your self-confidence but recently, with sakusa's booming popularity as a highly anticipated rookie in the v league, what was left of your confidence completely shattered.

you were happy for him of course. you've been rooting for him ever since he started getting offers to play various division 1 teams. but now that your boyfriend was placed into the spotlight, you could also see all of the people who could easily take your spot as his lover. after all he had talented volleyball players, models, actors, idols and so many high status celebrities talking about him. surely he would find someone better than you who, in comparison to him, has amounted to virtually nothing.

"who said that?" sakusa asked concerned written all over his face. he sits up and pulls you into his embrace but you turn away from him.

"nobody..." you trail off, not wanting to admit that the person who put these ideas into your head was in fact yourself.

"please tell me what's going on. it can't be nobody putting those useless thoughts into your head," sakusa says soothingly as he twirls your hair around his finger gently.

"its just that... "you start but you cut yourself off. "it's nothing."

"it's not nothing. not if it has you this sad," sakusa says and you feel compelled to cry your heart out to him. to tell him about all of your worries and doubts. but what if it burdens him? he already has enough on his plate. the more you thought about it however, the less you could keep it in.

"i can't figure out why you would love someone like me. aren't i just bringing you down? sooner or later you'll find someone you love more and you won't even spare me a glance when leave. and every time i think about you leaving me i get so scared but i can't even be mad about it because if i were you i would leave me too," you finally say, tears falling down your cheeks as you finally verbalized the thoughts you held for years.

"i would never leave you. never in any lifetime of mine that i would leave you," sakusa says, trying to soothe you but your crying doesn't stop.

"i should've just stayed quiet and enjoyed my time as your s/o while it lasts. i shouldn't be this upset over the fact that you'll leave me because it's fated to happen."

sakusa pulls you into a tight embrace and as much as you want to push away, you give into his hug. he's whispering something but you can't make out what he's saying over your uneven breaths.

"y/n, i love everything about you. and i mean it. nobody, for the entirety of our relationship and before, ever came close." he brings his hands to you face and wipes your tears away with his thumb.

"but-"

"no buts."

after a few moments of silence, sakusa speaks up again.

"you know... the day you asked me out... i was going to confess to you the next day. i was so surprised, i had everything prepared and you come out of nowhere telling me that you liked me," sakusa says.

"but i was so happy you know? happier than winning the collegiate mvp. i mean for years i just had to silently deal with my feelings and who would've known that the person of my dreams is here in my arms. god, i don't even know where to start. i just... my feelings for you goes beyond love. i can't even form into words how hard my heart beats for you."

sakusa always had a way with words whenever the subject came to you. which is why you could never beat him in an argument no matter how ridiculous.

he leans in to you and places a soft kiss on your tear stained cheek. then he places another, following the trail before reaching your lips. he presses the kiss there a little longer than the gentle pecks he left on your cheeks.

you tilt your head slightly, letting your lips lock with his. you stay like that until one of you broke for air. you're greeted with sakusa's smiling face. a smile where it reaches his eyes and he's looking at you with such fondness you felt your heart skip a beat like it was the first time you had laid eyes on him.

"don't worry, i'll love you enough for the both of us. nobody will come between us, not even the stupid voices in your head." and just give me a couple weeks my love. a couple more weeks i'll prove to you how i love you by putting a ring on your finger.

[a-dauntless-daffodil]

what does it mean that Vaggie was the only Exorcist with ONE strip on her wings, instead of TWO

what does it MEAN that, when she regains her wings, they don't look like they used to anymore? They aren't the stark black/white of an Exorcist. They're... faded. A soft gradient of gray, with the stripe almost completely invisible?

why- if the change comes from spending 3 years in hell- do they not look anything like Lucifer's wings?

and instead have more the colors of a seraphim?

WHAT IS GOING ON WITH HER WINGS WHAT WHAT

was she the newest Exorcist? just hadn't earned her STRIPES yet?? but she was one of the best! was she the youngest???? how good at killing would she have to be to be both the youngest AND one of the best- with a kill count in the quadruple digits-

did she NEVER have two stripes or did she lose one somehow? did that non-conformity make her stand out to Lute, make Lute suspicious (in a group that's supposed to look almost identical and kill in lock step without question) is tHAT why Lute followed her into the alley and was there to see her spare the sinner child???

is it something about her personally? that she was serious about the exterminations but not GLEEFUL or FANATIC about them-

that she was ready to Not Kill, against orders, when she felt it was wrong- meanwhile her former fellows who she probably "learned to trust on the battlefield" are all more than HAPPY to go head hunting for her later on? none of them, even looks upset about it????

is it something ELSE? WHY ARE HER WINGS GRAY NOW! Do the Exorcist DYE their wings to get that black/white color? do NONE of them actually have two strips or black markings?????

if the above-

are all their wings actually like vaggie's, or all they all different from each other too, underneath the Exorcist colors?

(and why the FUCK does her hair have the double stripe now, when it didn't used to, but her wings STILL don't. is SHE dying her hair?? why... why would she choose THOSE markings, if it was a choice...?)

[luveline]

Eddie and Roan both catching a cold and the reader takes care of them 🥺?

thank you for your request! dad!eddie x (nearly)stepmom!reader <3 all the established relationship fluff and love i could fit into 6k cw suggestive scene (fade to black) ♥︎ eddie and roan

Eddie feels like shit when he finishes work. He's sweating so much he had to change his coveralls before getting in the car, and his head is pounding with an aggressive headache, but he pops two Tylenol with a rogue bottle of water and pulls out of the lot. He beeps at Wayne as he drives past him, and then he starts on the road that'll take him to Hawkins Elementary. 

Roan's one of the youngest in her class but she sure doesn't look small sitting on the floor of her classroom. The door to the class is open, and Eddie feels a hundred miles better than he had when she catches sight of him and smiles at him like he's the best thing sliced bread. It amazes him that she seems so happy to see him day after day, each time like it's a marvel. Almost as if she's surprised. 

"Hey," he says, bending down to catch her as she runs toward him, her cardigan soft under his hands.

"Hello," she says happily.

"Hey," he says again, and this isn't the time or place to cuddle but he does it anyway. 

He indulges himself. Hugs from his daughter always make him feel better, especially when she's ecstatic to see him. 

"Got all your stuff?" 

"Yes," she says heavily. 

"Even your water bottle?" 

She shakes her shoulders. The water bottle inside of her backpack knocks against her lunch box. "Yes!" 

"Okay– let's go home." 

She beams. Eddie puts her down on her own two feet, her new cornflower blue sneakers like flowers blooming over asphalt with each step she takes. Eddie wonders what you did with all your spare cash before you started spoiling him and his girl, and he'd asked you once. You'd been sitting on the floor of a changing room with Roan, he could see your knees in the gap under the door as he waited outside, and you'd opened the door to show off the fancy dress Roan had been trying on and said, "My savings account was much healthier, but I mostly spent it on takeout. Now I got my own private chef, I don't need to get pizza so often." 

Roan had heard the word pizza and that was it. Dress shopping was paused for the day, and the three of you shared a large Margherita in the car on the way home. 

"What do we want for dinner today?" Eddie asks, Roan's hand swinging in his. 

"What do we got?" 

"I have lots of different pasta. Or we could make chicken." There's a plastic tupperware full of wings about to go bad. "Or maybe one of Y/N's favourites?" 

Roan hops down off of the club and keeps close to Eddie's side as they cross the parking lot to his car. 

Eddie doesn't wanna tell Roan you've been having a bad week because you don't wanna tell her, and it's not fair to kids to drag them down with you, but Eddie's not going to do that. He won't tell her your problem, how work has been making you especially miserable, how your coworkers aren't exactly kind. He'll just… express that you need some extra love. 

"If we could make something for her together, that would make her so happy. She's been feeling real blue," he says tentatively. 

Roan looks up at him with a frown. "She doesn't look blue. She looks normal'd." 

"It's an expression," he says fondly. "It means she's been kinda sad." 

Roan looks up at him, thick lashes kissing the skin below her eyebrows as her eyes widen. The neck of her soft blue cardigan is falling down one of her small shoulders, and he nudges her out of the way of the car door so he can get her in it before the cold catches up with her.

"Why is she sad?" she asks. 

Her concern is clear. Eddie lifts her up under the armpits and proudly doesn't bump her head, stationing her in her car seat. She doesn't need his help getting in anymore, but old habits die hard. 

"It's like… remember when those girls were picking on Stacey K, and she wanted to stay home from school? Y/N wants to stay home from work sometimes, but she has to be a big girl just like Stacey was and keep her head up." 

"I shouted at the girls," Roan says. She sounds quizzical. 

Eddie clips her seat belt over her chest and straightens out her knitted cardigan. "You're my bravest girl, that's why. You were a really good friend for Stacey." He kisses her forehead with a sticky, "Mwah!" 

She's still giggling when Eddie closes her door and gets into the driver's seat. She tapers off as Eddie twists his key and starts the engine, and doesn't talk again until they're almost home. Eddie doesn't worry — she's listening to the kids cassette in the stereo, and she gets tired after school. Despite his best efforts he's exhausted himself. He'll ask her about school once he's in his pyjamas. 

"Could you go into her job?" 

"What?" Eddie asks, not really listening as he reverses backward into the driveway outside of your house. His house, your house together. You and him and Roan and Lucky the goldfish. 

"Could you go be brave for mom?" 

He smiles. He likes when she calls you mom more than he can put into words. "I could, but she won't let me. And it might make things worse, you know?" 

"Why would it make things worse?"

"Uh, because grown ups don't really like when you try to tell them off."

"I don't like it either." 

"I know you don't, babe." 

Eddie gets out, releases the rascal, and the two of them jog up the few gentle steps to the door. He unlocks it and Roan stands patiently by the mat for him to take off her shoes. She could do it herself, but again — old habits die hard. He loves taking care of her and doing things for her, the little things and the big. Taking her shoes off is fun for both of them. She strokes hair out of his face so he's not blind and he squeezes her sock-clad toes until she squeals. 

She makes for the living room for her after school cartoons. 

"Hey, wait, Ro! I thought you were gonna help me make dinner?" 

She grumbles but it's with a good-natured spirit, spinning on her heel but remaining in the living room. "I got to feed Lucky, daddy." 

"Oh, right. You feed the fish, I'll get some jammies." 

She nods, determined. 

"Just a pinch! We don't want him to get fat and explode!" 

"Ew!"

Eddie finishes work at 3PM to grab Roan when her elementary school ends at 3.30. You finish work at 5PM, and you don't get home most days until near 6PM. It's a big gap where they both miss you like crazy, but it usually means that dinners all done or getting there when you finally drag yourself inside. 

Eddie can't lie, he hadn't pictured himself with a business woman. Though business might be the wrong word. You work an office job, and you wear professional office clothes, and God, it gets him pretty much every day. He prefers you in your pyjamas or your day clothes, sure, but there's something about you in your little pencil skirts and your soft cashmere sweaters, make up all smudgy and wearing off, kicking your short kitten heels in a pile at the door. 

You peel out of your coat and Eddie watches from the kitchen doorway, arms scrubbed clean of grease and crossed against his chest. 

"Hi, handsome," you say, more quietly than usual. 

"Hey," he says. His throat aches a little. He puts it down to needing a drink. "Hey, sweet thing. You look tired. Want me to cheer you up?" 

"Gotta see my girl first, sorry." 

He pretends you've stabbed him, not the dramatic, fall-to-the-floor affair he might've pulled a couple of years ago, but a stabbing all the same. He rubs his heart and doesn't feel even slightly mad with you when he hears Roan's happy cry. 

"You're home!" 

"You didn't think I was coming home today?" 

"You took six years," she says severely. 

"Six!" Your cheerful laughter draws Eddie in like a moth to a light. He slides down the hall and around the stairs to watch you take Roan's face into your hands, her pale ones behind your back to keep her balance where she's standing on the couch cushions. "You don't look nearly twelve, bubby." 

Your hand climbs her face. You press it to her forehead and he can hear your frown, though he can't see your face. "Are you feeling okay, Ro?" 

Roan blinks. "I feel happy." 

"Oh, do you? That's good!" 

You pick her up, one hand behind her back and one under her butt, messy curls all in your face when Roan wraps her arms around your neck. You carry her to Eddie where he's lingering in the doorway, shifting her on your hip, a concerned tug to your brows. 

Eddie brings a hand to her forehead himself, feeling along the warm skin gently. She's hotter than she should be. 

"You're sure you feel okay?" he asks her. 

Roan is confused by the attention, but she doesn't hate it. "Yes?" 

"You feel super hot." 

"I am super hot!" she says. She throws back her shoulders and does a practised pout, a model expression, her thin eyebrows bobbing down as she tries to wink. 

You glow with love, Eddie can pretty much see it in the air as you laugh. "Super hot," you second, giggling and dropping sneaky kisses against her temple. 

"You're beautiful," Eddie says pointedly. 

"Super beautiful." 

"Where'd you even learn that?" Eddie asks. "'Hot'?" 

"You say to mom in the morning?" Roan says, like Eddie's an idiot as the three of you make you way to the kitchen. "She's so hot, and pretty, and you need to crack the window!" 

Eddie covers his mouth. "You heard that?" He meets your eyes and he knows how he looks, a rosy tint taking to his otherwise pale cheeks. 

"And when you were singing, too." 

"Oh, my god." 

You laugh like crazy, giggles bubbling out of you like a soda rocket and quickly turning to bigger, fuller peels that would usually make him laugh too. He'd serenaded you this morning, a bumpy and extremely sincere rendition of As Long As It's Not About Love. He'd been trying to convince you to come back to bed, pencil skirt and all, for one last kiss.

"Roanie, I didn't know you were awake, baby. You should come and say hi once you're up." A warning would be good.

"I was too tired to move, daddy, I already told you." 

"Yeah, dad," you say, "she already told you, so back off." 

Eddie waves his hand at both of you. "Who needs you guys? I'll just eat this delicious dinner we made by myself."

He doesn't eat dinner by himself. He pulls the tray from the oven he'd covered over and you set the table. Roan pours juice into a cup for herself and doesn't tip any of it onto the table, for which she receives a heaping mound of praise. Eddie cracks open a can of ginger ale and pours it into a darker glass so you won't spot that it isn't normal soda and worry. He'll be fine in the morning, he knows. 

When you find out they've made your favourite, you get all mushy. You wrap your arms around his neck and rub your cheeks together, and you smile around every mouthful. You eat dinner as a family, and afterwards, Eddie lets Roan fill the bath right to the top with bubbles and brushes out her curls, which hang straight with the weight of the water. He gets her out, wraps her up in a poncho, and laments the loss of her baby curls as you sidle past him to wash the bubbles out of the bath and climb in the shower.

"Her hair's not as curly as mine was when I was a kid," he says, calling to be heard over the sound of the water. He can see your silhouette behind the shower curtain, an underwater scene of dolphins and tropical fish. 

"You think it'll get straighter?" you ask between squeezes of the shampoo bottle. 

Eddie rubs Roan's cheeks dry with a face towel gently. The hot water has pretty much knocked her out, her eyes drooping. "Probably. It's already way less curly than when she was a baby." 

He picks her up. She's limp. "I'm gonna go get her dressed!" 

"Okay, handsome, I'll be right out. Make sure there's still some hot water for you." 

Eddie dresses Roan and dries her hair with a blow dryer, cold air fighting against the fatigue stealing her away. She shivers and he turns it up to the first heat, careful not to burn her scalp. Eddie could barely look after himself at nineteen, and just around seven years later he's an expert in taking care of someone else. Well, maybe not an expert. He's good, though, and he tries hard enough and with enough pure love to make up for any mistakes. 

"You're so tired, babe," he says softly, clicking off the hairdryer to rake his fingers through her still warm hair. It looks very straight now, only the ends remaining curled. "Are you sure you're okay?" 

She reminds him of the quieter girl she'd been. Roan had taken a little time to come out of her shell, tantrums aside, and meeting you had pretty much rocketed her into extrovertedness. It happened slowly and all at once — one day she was just loud, and cheerful, and so, so charming. He loves her now and he'd loved her then. Quiet Roan is like an adorable treat, but it also points to bad tidings. 

Roan is quiet when she's sick, sad, or confused. 

Eddie's betting it's the first. He presses his hand against her forehead but of course she's warm, she'd been in a warm bath only twenty minutes ago. 

She doesn't answer him. She looks small in her big princess bed, her sheer cherry pink curtains hanging down to compliment the brand new and puffy quilt he'd bought for winter. Her legs are crossed, one bare foot sticking out. Eddie crouches in front of her, scratching the sole of her foot with his pinky nail to make her smile. 

"There's my girl." He flicks her knee. "You want me to read you something, sweetheart? I don't think we're gonna make it to the couch tonight." 

"Can we have Bad Cat Saves the World?" she asks. 

Eddie drags her up to the huge pillows against the headboard and pushes her chest mildly. She tips back into the pillows with a pleased huff. Her lack of outrage clues him in. 

Roan is sick. 

"You can have anything you want if you drink some water before bed." 

"Wugh," she says. 

"That's almost a real word. Good job, babe." 

"Thank you." 

—

You step out of the shower and wrap a towel around yourself quickly. The bathroom is thick with heat, so you push open the window and stand in the cold breeze. The window must be open in Roan's room, you realise, when you hear the dulcet tones of Eddie's reading voice floating toward you. 

"And Bad Cat said, no, Mr. President, I'm the one flying the plane! He wiggled his whiskers and pushed the wheel left with one of his ginger paws, the aeroplane shooting through the sky at top speed. I'm going to save the world, Bad Cat cried." 

Eddie does the best voices, truly. He's high and low, scratchy and sweet. He takes all the right pauses and kicks it up a notch at the most exciting parts, reading line after line in a whirl. Your skin feels dry and chapped as his voice begins to quieten; you've listened for too long. 

You step into your shared bedroom, pull on some underwear but no bra, and try to lotion up before he comes in and sees you naked. You don't know if he'll have Roan with him. The door creaks open and you squeak, forcing yourself deeper into the wardrobe you'd been searching through. 

"I'm not dressed!" you say. 

It wouldn't really matter if Roan saw you naked, she's just a baby and you're a family, but there's nothing wrong with having the boundary there either. Luckily there's no Roan in tow with Eddie either way. 

"Is that a promise?" he asks, and his eyes light up when he enters. 

You cross your arm over your chest and dig for a t-shirt to wear. 

"Don't look, perv." 

"We're getting married," he says. "I've seen it all already." 

"I don't care, perv, stay back." You slip a loose t-shirt over your head and bend down again for some pyjama pants. 

It doesn't matter what you say. Eddie comes up behind you where you're bending over and leans into you, arms needling around your waist, one greedy hand under your shirt and squeezing the soft roll of your stomach. You shoot up and smile at him from over your shoulder. It's odd. Despite what you'd joked, you don't mind him seeing you undressed. How could you? You've loved one another for longer than you ever could've imagined, in ways you didn't know people did. You know Eddie thinks you're beautiful, and you don't look like someone from the magazines. They're two coinciding facts. 

"She's sleeping?" you ask. 

"She wiped out completely. I think she might be coming down with something." 

You frown. "Poor baby." 

"It's alright. We'll take care of it as it comes." 

"We will." You nudge the tip of his nose with yours, aware of how quiet the house is, and how much you've missed him all day. "Are we going to bed, too?" 

His hands come up. It's not not sexual, but it's more intimate than anything else as he grabs at the soft skin of your torso and then, tentatively, your chest. 

Your lips drift closer and closer, and when he kisses you it's achingly slow, close-lipped. He pulls your back to his front and your crane your neck, hands covering his hands, eyes shuttering as he gets a little more insistent. It can only be a couple of seconds, held-breath heart-pounding seconds that make your tummy roll with heat, before he's pulling away. 

"Baby, I think I might be coming down with something, too." 

It takes a second for his words to calibrate. "You're sick?"

"My head's been pounding all day. I want you, but– I don't wanna get you sick," he says. He sounds so torn. 

"You're sure it's not a one day thing?" you ask, frowning. 

He swallows a lump in his throat. "Regretfully." 

If he's sick, and Roan's sick, you can't get sick too. It would throw a huge spanner in the works. Eddie's immune system is a sinking ship on a normal day. When he gets sick, it's bad. 

You untangle yourself from Eddie's grasp and feel his disappointment. It's sweet that he wants to keep you from the same fate as him. 

You take his face into your hands. 

"Go take a shower, handsome, and then…" You stare straight into his eyes, brown honey ringed with light. "We won't kiss. Or, you won't kiss me on the lips. Yeah?" 

He pulls your hand from his cheek to squeeze your fingers, a tight bunching full of promise. "Yeah. It's gonna break my heart–" 

"I'm sure," you say. 

"–but I'll make it up." 

You walk backwards out of his arms and flop languidly into the clean white sheets on your bed, toying with the bottom of your t-shirt. "Whatever you say, bub." 

Eddie sets the record for world's quickest shower that night. 

—

Eddie wakes up. He's expecting that post-sex bonelessness, like every bit of tension has been pulled from him by your delicate fingers, but instead feels as if he'd been hit by a truck. Last night had been the total opposite of rough. It isn't the sex that's messed him up. 

He's sick. 

Shit, he thinks, rubbing his dry face with a hand warmed by your back. 

You lay over his chest, your lips to his heart, the dark tattoo covering it. One hand crushed under your side curls weakly by his hip, and the other is hidden pretty much inside his armpit. He snorts at you and your blank expression, but smiles when he remembers the sweet, soft way you'd looked at him last night, your eyelashes heavy with unshed happy tears, your arms tight around his shoulder blades like you'd worried he'd disappear. He hadn't been able to kiss you like he wanted to, lips on your lips and just a little too much tongue, but he'd found the next best thing on the slope of your shoulder. He nudges your shirt down so he can peer at the poor scandalization of skin, that purple-red mess of burst capillaries wrought by his eager nibbling. 

As much as Eddie would like to laze about with you in the afterglow at night, you're grown-ups. Which isn't to say he doesn't get his hugs in after, he does —he cuddles you, lays praise down thick, blushes without fail when you do the same— but he and you have a whole post-fuck routine; cleaning up, throwing the towel in the washing machine, changing the sheets if you need to. 

Eddie will peek his head into Roan's room to check she's still sleeping, and, exhausted, the two of you go back to bed and fall asleep yourselves. He doesn't enjoy getting back into his pyjamas afterward, missing your skin pretty much instantly, but it's necessary, and proves to be when Roan pushes into your room that morning unannounced.

Eddie sits up and tries not to disturb you, finger to his lips. 

"My stomach hurts," she says. 

He eases you off of his chest and into the cool sheets where you usually sleep. He swings his legs around and finds it takes a lot more effort than usual. 

"Yeah? Hungry hurts or like you need the bathroom hurts?" 

"Just hurts," she says insistently. 

Eddie stands, tucks you in as fast as he's able and turns to Roan. She stands at the end of the bed unsurely, hair at her neck curled up with sweat, her usually white face an unfortunate pink. He puts his arms out for her, groaning when he pulls her up his chest, her knees either side of his hip. She wants a hug and Eddie wants a second to digest what's happening, so he stops right there in the middle of the room and hugs her too his chest. 

"Think you might be sick, baby," he says gently. 

"Do I get the strawberry medicine?" she asks. 

"Depends. Can you stop when you want to?" 

"What?" 

He laughs to himself. He wishes you were awake to laugh too, but he lets you sleep. "Yeah, you can have the strawberry medicine. How bad is it hurting, huh? Does your throat hurt?" 

"Maybe." 

He frowns at her tearful voice. "Oh, no… and your toes, are they orange?" 

"Don't think so," Roan says, stretching one of her legs out and analysing her toes. 

"Good," he says, giving you one last glance before he moves to the stairs, carrying Roan down them one careful step at a time. He doesn't trust his heavy head. "I thought for a second you had Alienitis." 

"Alien-ites?" she asks. 

He nods sagely, flicking on the hallway light as he reaches the bottom of the stairs. "It starts with a bad tummy, and then you start to turn orange from the toes until all your skin is shiny and slimy like a pool toy, and then your throat hurts." 

He turns on the kitchen light and sets Roan down on the counter near the fridge. 

"But you already have a bad tummy and a sore throat, so you definitely don't have Alienitis." He beams at her relieved face. "Thank the heavens." 

He peels the thermometer off of the fridge. It's a magnet, made of paper, and you press it to your kids forehead and let it sit for a minute before you read it. He slaps it on her with a pretend aggression to make her laugh, and they both wait for it to warm up. Eddie looks down at her. She looks up. 

"Come here often?" he asks. 

"All the time. Do you?" 

"Sometimes, yeah. See the game last night?"

"Which game?" she asks, pert nose wrinkling in confusion. 

"Any of them?" 

"I saw you and Y/N do the dishes dance." 

"How'd you rate that? Out of ten?" 

"You dropped your bowl." 

"A five, then." 

Roan presses her lips together. "She's always better." 

"That's not fair, my hands get all soapy from the water." 

Roan's temperature is a solid 102. 

"It's official, you're sick." He rubs her cheek, her ear, her hair soft under his hand. "But I'm gonna fix you right up good as new, babe, so don't worry." 

Roan leans back against the microwave oven and huffs forlornly. 

"Hey, it'll be fine. It's gonna be better than fine, Ro. We'll make sure you have lots of yummy drinks and medicine and I'm sure if we ask really nicely your mom'll make her soup, and…" He loves how much Roan loves you, leaning in to emphasise the importance of what he's about to say. "She'll snuggle with you all. Day. Long." 

"She will?" 

Is she kidding? The second you find out Roan has a temperature, he'll have to pry you away from her with a crowbar. 

"She will." 

"Can we wake her up?" 

He thinks about it. You've had a really hard week. You deserve to rest and catch up with the sleep you've been missing out on, but Roan's the confessed light of your life and she wants you. If he doesn't wake you up, you'll only ask why not.

"How about I put you on the couch with some TV and I'll go wake her up, and see how she's feeling?" 

Roan pouts. "I want to." 

He'd hoped to sneak in a hug, considering how his legs and arms and head are aching. But he finds it hard to be selfish when Roan looks the way she does now, her eyes pleadingly wide, thin brows threaded together at the starts. She puts her hands together. 

"Okay, you can do it. But try to be nice. No shouting in her ears. This is strictly a hug operation." 

Roan screws her hands in his shirt and he sets her down. She tiptoes down the hall, up the stairs, and into the master bedroom, Eddie behind her all the while unbearably enamoured. 

He helps her climb into your bed. You've twisted onto your back now, and Roan carefully crawls to your side, snuggling up under the arm that isn't covered by blankets. You don't wake at first, but Roan rubs your tummy, whispers, "Please wake up, Y/N," and you rouse like magic. Your eyes remain closed by life flares into your limbs, arms wrapping around Roan, pulling her onto your stomach and chest automatically. 

"I got a tummy ache," Roan says, a hint of desperation in her voice.

Your eyes open. Eddie suspects you don't even know he's there, your gaze locking onto Roan's. 

"Yeah? What's the matter, princess, do you need me to pat your back?" 

"No… it's all twisty. We took my tempa-chure and I'm too hot." 

You look first to your side where Eddie usually lies. 

"Over here, sweetness." 

You push yourself into a sitting position with Roan locked to your front, pressing the back of your free hand to her head as you look to him for confirmation. 

"One oh two," he says. 

You sit her in your lap and flatten out her frizzy hair uselessly. Your frown melds to a put upon smile, a mom face. It says everything's going to be okay.

"Well, we better fix you up then, huh? We'll havta call Uncle Wayne for some of his tools," —you clear your throat, the tired scratchiness in your voice ebbing— "and tighten all your screws again. How's that sound?" 

"I'm not a car," she laughs. 

"What? Since when?" 

You're soft in the mornings. Your eyes are swollen and puffy still, your voice a quiet but earnest hum. You look up over her head and he knows what you're thinking. 

"I'm okay," he says easily. "I'll go get the phone." 

Roan laughs full-belly. "Guys! I am not a car!" 

"You beep like one," you say, pretending to honk her nose. "Beep beep." 

It's the calm before the storm. 

—

Roan cries and cries and cries. She's in your lap again, but this time you're downstairs on the couch with her softest throw blanket and a pillow, rubbing her poor tummy. You've spent the day waiting for her to throw up, but no dice yet. Eddie's trying very hard to help you out, though he's practically paralysed by a migraine in the armchair. Each rattle of Roan's sobbing makes him wince. 

You have her propped against your chest, her shoulders heaving. There's an empty bucket used for washing the dishes at your feet. Roan is adamant she won't be sick. 

"Do you want to go to the bathroom again?" you ask softly, rubbing her trembling arms in hopes of soothing her. 

"No, I don't need to," she insists, "just hurts. I want more medicine, mommy." 

You crumple like wet tissues. "I know, princess. Another hour and you can have more, I promise." 

"I want it now."

"It's okay, Roan," Eddie says, jaw clenched but not a hint of anger in his voice. "You're alright, bub, you just need to calm down. All this crying is gonna make it worse." 

You hum your agreement. "Your dad's right. Let's try to calm down, should we? Is there something we can do to calm down? Maybe we should drink some more of dad's ginger ale, that might be yummy." 

"Let me take her," Eddie says. His skin is pale and waxy, sweat shimmering in the light across his brow and top lip.

You nibble your cheek. "Sweetheart," you say, and mean it intensely, "you can go up to bed if you need to." 

"I'm fine. Come on, give me back my girl. I'm gonna fix her with a magic spell." 

You try to transfer Roan from your lap to his. You've seen Eddie's spells in action, how he whispers words you don't don't know from a game he plays with his friends every other week, or every other other week when life is busy, pressing raspberries into the nape of her neck and tickling her arms. They're a surefire way to cure an owie. 

Roan doesn't want a magic spell, she wants medicine. She sobs and turns in your arms, seeking your comfort. She buries her face in the soft fabric of your sleep shirt. 

Eddie stands up to help, stricken by her increasing volume, and abruptly has to sit back down. 

"Eddie," you say, more severely than you mean to. "Sit down." 

"Sitting," he mumbles, dropping his head down between his knees, hands in his hair. 

He quickly lifts it with a groan. 

"Shit," he says. 

You shush Roan gently, lips near her ear. Your hand rubs a steadfast line down the curve of her spine, and when it comes back up you take a deep breath. You don't know if Roan understands what you're doing or if her pain simply starts to lessen, but long, tense minutes unravel into half an hour and she thankfully calms down, dipping into sleep after you dot her damp forehead with kisses.

"Eddie," you say, when you're sure she's knocked out. "Baby, are you okay?" 

"I'm sorry," he says, lifting his sweaty face from his hand. He looks heartbreakingly ill. 

"That's okay, I don't want any sorrys." 

"I didn't mean to make you deal with that alone." 

"Well, I wasn't alone," you say. "You're sitting right there." 

He presses the backs of his hands to his eye sockets and breathes out hard. You can't reach him with your hands, so you extend your leg until your ankle rubs against his. 

"You have a stomach ache?" 

"I think I have everything," he says. 

You pull Teddy, Roan's one eared teddy bear, off of the seat beside you, and then move the pillows and bowl of food Roan hadn't managed to eat to the other side. 

"Come and sit by me," you coax gently. 

Eddie looks stiff as a board as he stands and walks to the couch. He sits down slow, leaning back slower. He looks at the ceiling before he turns his neck to face you, one eye screwed shut. You suspect his migraine is pretty much debilitating him at this point. 

"Okay?" you murmur. 

"I'll live. Hopefully." 

He chuckles but stops with another sore wince. 

You drop your hand onto his knee. He looks sad. He looks like he's gonna pass out.

"Baby, you gotta tell me how bad you're feeling," you say,  nearly singing the words, hoping to inject that little bit of lightness he's missing back onto his pretty lips. 

"It's just my head–" 

"Thought it was everything?" 

"–is gonna explode," he concludes, flopping his face into your arm, one of his hands cupping Roan's back beside yours. 

"I'm really sorry, my love," you murmur. 

He huffs. He knows, as you know, that you're not sorry in that you think you made him sick. You're sorry that he's sick, sorry he's in any pain at all, sorry that Roan's down for the count as well. 

He turns his lips to your shoulder and leaves them there. 

"Everything's gonna be fine." 

"I know it, sweet thing." His voice sounds like it's made of crushed glass. 

When Eddie finally falls asleep, Roan wakes. You're damp everywhere they touch you— they're like two huge hot water bottles. Roan scrunches awake and you're sorry to do it, but you push Eddie away from you and climb out from under his weight, taking his mini me to the kitchen where the strawberry medicine calls her name. You plop her down in her chair with the cushion on the seat and spoon medicine into her mouth. She's too tired to realise she doesn't really like it. 

You wet the corner of a hand towel and wipe the sticky dribble off of her chin. You're patting her clammy forehead when she looks up. 

"Thanks, mommy," she says.

You frame her face, hand towel pressed to the side of her head. 

"You're welcome." You lean forward, tap your nose into hers. "I love you." 

You say it stretchy and sweet, like taffy. She lights up at the sound.

"I love you more," she says.

"No way, madam. I love you more than anybody." 

"I love you to the moon," she tries. 

"To the moon! I love you to the sun, then." 

"Is that further away?" she questions. 

You stroke her hair back from her face with your free hand, wrists on her shoulders. You do it nicely, fingers tangling in the downy soft strands of her curls, no rush to be anywhere but here. 

"It's a million trillion miles away," you guess. 

"Woah. That much?" 

You nod, head bobbing, "That much and more." 

"That's a lot of love," she says. Like a kid standing at the precipice of the world's biggest candy store, staring out at a million different shelves, a rainbow of colour reflected on her feverish cheeks. But she's not in a candy store at all, she's looking at you. 

"So much," you say, smiling. 

"Mmm… Woah." 

"Girls?" comes Eddie's voice, calling from the living room. "Everything cool?"

"Dad!" Roan shouts. "Guess what? Y/N said she loves me to the sun and it is a million'd miles away! That's more than the moon away!" 

Eddie groans. "Wait a second, don't be lovely without me. I'm…" His voice drops to a mutter. "I'm a weak man."

You wait but don't hear any footsteps. 

"Think we better go kiss him better, Ro," you say. 

She goes all shy. "Will you carry me again?" 

"Hm, let me think." 

You swoop her up into your arms so fast she's immediately hysterical, giggling at the sudden vertigo. 

"Girls," Eddie whines. "I can't get up. Stop having fun without me." 

"We're on our way with Tylenol!" you call. 

"I don't want Tylenol, I want love to the sun, or whatever." 

You princess carry Roan into the living room and settle back down in your seat next to Eddie, who, despite desperately needing the Tylenol you've brought with you, takes the kisses you offer first, featherlight kisses, all over his cheek. 

"That definitely wasn't enough," he says. He looks at you from between his lashes, slamming them shut again when he notices you watching. "C'mon girls, I'm sick."

"So's Roan and she's not making demands."

"I never said I was a good person, you know? I'm desperate." 

You give him one last kiss. He waves his hand and Roan gives him another. 

He sighs through a happy, sleepy smile. "Thank you. Now that felt like love to the sun." 

—

Bad Cat is a character from Stephen Chbosky's novel Imaginary Friend that I borrowed, he isn’t mine! thanks so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed! if you did, please consider reblogging because it means so much to me <3<3<3<3

[gladosisstillalesbian]

in honor of portal day, have this screenshot of a post I made in 2019 two blogs ago

Transcript:

[“honestly when I look at portal all I see is female power fantasies

like!! everything that glados is is a redemption for caroline. everything about how glados operates and what she likes and why she does what she does is a reclamation of the agency that caroline didn't have.

-caroline has to stay tight-laced and "proper" in order to make the company look good? glados sings, glados makes stupid jokes for no one's benefit except her own, glados gets angry and gets weird and gets whatever she wants to

-caroline has to curb her own intellect in order to avoid threatening the egos of the men around her? glados isn't just smart, she's clever, she's wily, she shows off the knowledge she has and does the science that she wants to do

-Caroline has to keep quiet and avoid voicing her opinion? glados has as many captive audiences as she wants, forever and ever, and by god if they aren't going to hear her every single thought

-caroline has to take abuse and misogyny and keep smiling? glados takes none of that- the scientists who tried to control her are wiped out, the man who thinks he can do her job better than she can is ruthlessly removed, anything and anyone who might threaten her is destroyed without a thought

-caroline puts up with a terrible man her whole life? boom glados is a lesbian no men needed

and chell!! chell is for every woman who is afraid of their power, who is worried about appearing too "strong" or too "angry," chell exists for every woman to look at and say, "this is who I could be if I wasn't afraid to do what I need to do to survive." chell doesn't make anyone's life easier at the cost of her own comfort, chell isn't afraid to be strong and buff and athletic (and mean when she needs to be). chell is for women who want to own their intellect without worrying about being ~refined~ and want to take no shit from anyone, whoever they are and whatever authority they have over her, chell is for women who don't want to make niceties or spare anyone's feelings, chell is for women who aren't afraid.

the women of portal tell us that it's okay to be loud or quiet or angry or weird or silly or powerful and fuck anyone who tries to keep us from being those things”

screenshotted tags which read: #god. do i need to buy portal?????

“yeah!!!”

end transcript./]

[al-of-the-stars]

"Lily of the Valley"

Lute x GN Angel Reader

Synopsis: After being saved from a near-death encounter, you slowly fall in love with Lute, the very same angel who had rescued you. Little do you know, she harbors the same feelings for you.

A/n: I honestly had this idea in a dream and when I remembered it, my first thought was "holy shit I GOTTA write this" Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy!

You never had much of a relationship with Lute. Sure, you were pretty good acquaintances but there wasn’t much more to it than that. You both worked for the exorcist army but she was on the battlefield while you were on the sidelines as a strategist, planning the exterminators' next move. That was until one extermination. While you were lost in your own plans, your eyes practically glued to the map in your hands,you failed to notice the demon behind you holding an angelic weapon. Just when the sinner was about to stab you, you felt another presence nearby. When you turned around, you saw none other than the lieutenant of the exorcists herself, covered in splashes of crimson. Your eyes went wide and you felt golden blood rush to your face, though you couldn't tell if it was from the near-death experience you just had or how attractive Lute looked while killing that unholy soul. You thought it was most likely the latter. “Are you alright? You aren't hurt anywhere, are you?” Those words snapped you out of your train of thought.

“Oh I think I'm fine, thank you,”

“It's not a problem, I'm glad you're okay,” You could have sworn you saw the face on her mask turn into a smile, but you didn't have enough time to comprehend anything as she dashed off flying. Since that day, you grew much closer. During training, you couldn't help but take glances at her. Unbeknownst to you due to the limited expression of her mask, she was doing the same. When you looked her way, she would try extra hard to impress you. All the other exorcists noticed and attempted to wingman her in their spare time.

“Just tell them already!”

“What's the worst that could happen?”

“They look at you like a lovesick anime schoolgirl, there is no way they don't like you back,” After practice, you two would usually visit a cafe and just chat; your company was the highlight of her day. This became routine and slowly, your relationship and feelings grew more and more until it became unbearable to hold it in. Lute finally got sick of those outings being just a hangout between two friends, she was sick of looking at you and wishing she could just grab your waist and pull you in for a kiss, she was sick of pretending she didn't love you. Another day of training passed by and as you walked out the door of the cafe, Lute handed you an envelope.

“Open this when you get home,” She instructed. The walk back to your house felt like forever and the curiosity was practically killing you. The moment you walked through the door, you opened the neatly sealed envelope.

“Dear Y/n,

I was originally going to write a poem to explain how I felt but I'm not too great with metaphors or meanings, so I'll be straightforward with you like always. I love you. I can't help but admire you when you do the most regular things. I have fallen in love with everything about you, your smile, your eyes, your voice. If you feel the same, next time we visit somewhere after practice, I hope it can be a date.

-Lute”

Along with the letter, there was a flower. More specifically, it was a lily of the valley, a flower that represents love and sincerity. You picked up the lily and put it in a vase with water. Who knew the stone-cold lieutenant had a heart of gold?

[vagabond-umlaut]

blue hawaii

gojo satoru, the celebrated sorcerer, is far from normal. and so are you. everyone knows it; everyone accepts it.

geto suguru too did... until the muggy summer day the realization dawns upon him, on a car trip back from a mission, that you two are pretty normal. or at least, as much as they come...

but hey! who is geto referring to by 'they'?

two idiots in love with each other but too dumb to lend voice to their feelings, obviously.

whom else could he imply in your and gojo's case, huh?

▸ student! gojo satoru x student! gn! reader; 1.15k wc; pining! gojo; oblivious! snarky! reader; worried bestie! geto; wingman bestie! geto; fluff (loads and loads of it)

▸ summer has shoved spring out the way, and, jjk season 2 trailer has shoved all the important stuff out my brain. lolol. anyways, gif, divider and characters ain't mine. please don't plagiarize, translate or repost this. enjoy reading! ❤️

"gojo's ridiculous, isn't he?"

"i don't think so," you hum, glancing at geto from the corner of your eye. "attention-hungry would describe him better, i guess."

your senpai huffs a quiet chuckle, looking ahead. "yeah, you're right."

lips twitching into a tiny smile, you too return your gaze forwards, to the kakigori stand where your other senpai stands. a wide grin on his face, directed at the gaggle of girls around him, as they bombard him with questions, giggles erupting every time he replies.

it has always been this way, you think as you drag your eyes from the scene before to your watch. eleven-thirty, it says, and an exasperated sigh leaves you.

it was nine-thirty when the three of you started from iwaki, mission being over the night prior - yet, in spite of two hours elapsing since then, you're still stuck at hitachi. if this same speed of travel is kept, you're sure you won't reach the school before late this afternoon.

another long sigh escaping, you hop back onto the hood of the car and pluck out your phone - only to have it taken away a beat later. "geto senpai, please," you grumble, looking up with a scowl - to an even more scowling face looking down at you.

"how long will you run away from your feelings?" the boy inquires, flipping your phone shut as a concerned pair of eyes sweep over your features. "the longer you delay it, the farther satoru will go away from you. don't you realize that?"

your frown deepens. incredulity sneaks into your voice as you ask, a flurry of questions hitting the opposite person, "feelings? what feelings? and why would gojo senpai go away from me? did i do anything wrong? the hell are you talking about, senpai?"

geto pinches the bridge of his nose, visibly annoyed - and tired. you simply jump off your seat in response, coming to stand beside him again, the skin of your forehead drawn into lines and furrows.

a long second passes before the silence between you two is broken. with another glance at gojo, who is now scribbling something on a notepad in the distance, he looks back to you. "satoru is giving those girls his contact details now; what does that make you feel?"

sparing gojo a glance, you lean back against the car, stuffing hands into your pockets. "irritated, i guess." your answer seems to delight geto as he cracks a tiny knowing smile, mimicking your posture. "oh, really? and why is it so?"

a sly smirk overtakes your features as you look back to find gojo send you a 'please help' look. of course, that bastard will drag you to ward off these pests now. you aren't really bothered, though.

you'll willingly go through a thousand of these troubles, if it means the white-haired sorcerer stays safe and happy at the end of the day.

snatching your phone away from his grasp, you offer geto a shrug paired with a toothy grin. "it is so because it won't be gojo senpai's inbox which will be flooded with love confessions by today evening. it'll be my phone's inbox."

your senpai raises an eyebrow, as if asking if you're kidding or not.

you know he knows you're not. gojo and you share dynamics just as crazy as that.

you continue, grinning, "and it is only so long before one grows tired and irritated of reading and deleting the same kind of messages, over and over again, ya know? even more if you're single and you know you're more attractive than the person these were intended to."

a loud guffaw erupts from him in response to your comments. wiping a tear from his eye, the boy pats your shoulder genially.

"you two are unbelievable. you, more than him," geto says, shaking his head, a fond exasperation tangible in his tone. your lips quirk up smugly. "now go, save your damsel in distress. you've been receiving quite a few sos signals till now, haven't you?

chuckling, you push yourself off the car, and with a nod and a salute, amble over to the kakigori stand.

from where he is reclining against the car, geto watches the way the crowd grows stunned as you enter their line of vision. the way it takes a couple of milliseconds before their focus switches from gojo to you.

a snicker escapes the boy as he observes the girls' once vibrant faces wilt, when you wrap an arm around gojo's torso and the latter leans into your touch - a soft look skittering across his classmate's now-red face as he gazes down at you; you beaming up at him.

geto's snicker tempers down to a relieved smile. checking his watch, he gets into the car, onto the driver's seat, and starts the engine.

gojo isn't really a playboy. you aren't really silencing your heart.

the two of you are just plain old idiots.

one enough of an idiot to pine away wordlessly for all eternity.

the other even more of an idiot to be ignorant of their feelings in the first place, despite how glaringly, utterly obvious they always are.

a relaxed smile crawls onto geto's lips as he spots the two of you walk towards the car, a rosy tinge to your cheeks as the both of you laugh loudly, gojo swinging your intertwined hands in between you two.

shoko was right, geto muses. the two of you meanwhile slide into the back seat, tears rolling down your cheeks from your howling laughter. gojo simply stares at you with a lovestruck smile, dazed eyes darting from where you've clutched his arm to your chortling expression.

driving the car back onto the road, the boy throws his best friend an eyebrow waggle in the rear-view mirror, when you let out a yawn and nestle closer to the latter, eyes closing and arms wrapping loosely around his midsection.

the white-haired asshole responds to his not-so-innocent implication with a rude hand gesture, while his other hand comes to pat the side of your head gently.

geto's teasing grin doesn't diminish one bit.

gojo and you might as well be the most terrible idiots in this whole world. yet... against all former misgivings, geto thinks- no, knows- your romance will never be as terrible nor pathetic as the two of you.

if all the cards are played right - the black-haired boy is pretty sure - you two might even grow to be the sweetest couple in town.

[all thanks to you, though, should it happen.

gojo might be his fellow strongest sorcerer, his partner-in-crime, his one and only best friend - but he'll never be good enough for geto to fib, saying he too contributed to the both of you gaining that title.

if anything, the only moniker that goggles-wearing classmate of his can get you is 'the most embarrassing couple in town'. nothing less and definitely nothing more than that. geto is damn sure of that.]

▸ masterlist

[ddejavvu]

can i request telling aaron you are not the type of person to get married or have kids because of some childhood stuff. maybe him trying to convince you it doesnt matter but you fighting him and saying that its all he’s wanted. sorry for the specificity, just going through an awakening.

You've always had this sinking feeling that you and Aaron aren't right for each other in the long run. It's bliss now, cuddled up on the couch for a movie night or bent over the kitchen counter when you've got the house to yourselves, but when your mind starts moving beyond date nights and sex-capades, you panic.

You're not the marriage type. A long relationship doesn't bother you, but the label, the spectacle, the permanence of it all unnerves you. It's an issue that's stemmed from your young years, and it hasn't gone away yet. Kids are even worse to think about; at least, having your own. Aaron's son is a sweetheart, and you have no problem making him lunches or tucking him in with a story at night, but the thought of having one of your own makes you want to flee.

Unfortunately, you think that's exactly what Aaron wants with you.

The conversation starts with an innocent, but inappropriate question from Jack, "Daddy, when are you and Y/N getting married?". And you foresee it ending in a breakup, which is why your chest is tight and your breathing is shallow while Aaron rubs your back. You're sitting on the bed, faced away from him, outwardly closed-off, but he's still comforting you.

"Sweetheart," His deep voice hums, "He didn't mean anything by it. He doesn't understand how the world works, he thinks anyone who's dating has to be married. He asked JJ's niece when she's getting married to her boyfriend, they're sixteen."

"It's not his fault," You mutter, "It's mine."

"Well that's not true," Aaron wants to scold you, but he refrains, "It's not your fault you don't want to be married."

"But it's not your fault you do, either."

"I'd love to marry you," Aaron answers honestly, "But not if you don't want to. I'd also love to date you, to live with you, to love you regardless of our marital status. Marriage isn't the dream, you are."

"I don't want kids, either." You remind him, your back still turned. "Jack is sweet. But I don't want to have one myself."

"That's alright," Aaron agrees without hesitation, "I don't need another one."

"Dammit, Aaron," You snap, moving away from his touch, "Why are you doing this? Why are you sacrificing your wants like this?"

"I'm not sacrificing anything," He frowns, watching as you retreat towards the bay window in your shared bedroom, "If this wasn't worth it for me, I wouldn't be here. But you are worth it."

"You want to be married," You inform him, pinching the bridge of your nose between two fingers, "You want kids. Hello, that's exactly what you did with Haley!"

"Haley is exactly why I don't care if we're married with kids," He huffs, "Our marriage certificate didn't stop that bullet. Jack wasn't enough to convince Foyet to spare her. People die, and terrible things happen, and if you don't love people while they're here, you may never get to again. Sweetheart, I don't love you because I want to get married to you. I don't love you because I want to have kids with you. I love you because you're you, and I want to love you forever. I don't care if we get married. I don't care if we have kids. I just care that I get to love you while I still can."

You speak through the tears that have blossomed on your water line, "But don't you still want that stuff? Even if you don't need it?"

"Honey," He says, like he's exasperated with you, "I don't care. I have Jack already, I don't need you to force yourself to have a kid with me if you don't want one. And marriage isn't a requirement for love. Marriage is- it's a piece of paper, sweetheart. A legal title. I don't need one of those, I don't need another kid, all I need is you. All I want is you."

"What if you change your mind?" You sniffle, and as your shoulders deflate, his arms wrap around your waist.

"I don't think I will," His chest presses to your back, and his lips brush against the shell of your ear. He’d kiss it if if was a less sensual place, but he doesn’t want you to think he’s making any moves. Not now, not when you’re just barely starting to lean into his embrace.

“But if I do, we’ll discuss it, and you’ll know. Okay? I won’t keep it a secret.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.” He nods, nestling his cheek flush to yours, “You’re what I want, sweetheart.”

[s-brant]

Clandestine

After beginning their relationship in secret during the war, Anakin and his Padawan sneak off to have a much-needed moment to themselves. (or teacher’s pet part two)

5k (18+)

Warnings: smut, p in v, unprotected sex, choking, breeding kink, degradation/praise, sub anakin, bit of exhibitionism, inappropriate relationships, and strong language.

-

As of late, it's been difficult for her and Anakin to steal a moment alone together.

The war is coming to a close sometime soon, they can sense it, and they think they may come close to catching General Grievous if things continue to go this way. Yet, while the death of Count Dooku and the win they gained at the Battle of Coruscant pleased them, what didn't was the lack of time they had together. Mercifully, they were stationed together throughout the war, but that didn't mean they were able to enjoy one another's company. Anakin acted as a general, meanwhile, she did not possess such a prestigious rank, and he quickly learned he could not show any favoritism toward her. Although they were well known for how well they worked together, it was impossible to avoid the judgmental stares thrown their way when he thoughtlessly defended a mistake she made in front of everyone.

Anakin has a way of being...irrational...when he senses any animosity directed at her.

He often moves into a defensive position on instinct, creeping closer and stepping partway in front of her. It's strange. In every aspect of their relationship besides those relating to sexuality, he maintains such a casual dominance over her, but, when they fall into each other's arms in the dead of night, that dominance is nowhere to be seen.

Like two weeks ago

They managed to sneak away unseen and found a secluded spot to meet at. It was a quick affair, to say the least, but for how brief it had been, it wasn't lacking any passion. Quick, quiet fucks are all they've been able to get away with amidst the responsibilities that burden them during this war. And, right now, she's craving more.

"Why are we going to the hangar?" Anakin asks, keeping his voice down as his Padawan guides him after her by the hand. His flesh hand, he takes note of with a rush of bliss caused by the contact of her bare skin against his. "Someone could see us."

A smirk crosses her face at this, and she turns her head to glance over her shoulder at him.

"Aren't Jedi supposed to feel no fear?" She teases him, "You surely weren't afraid of being caught last time."

The mere mention of the last time they snuck off to spend some time alone together brings a pink flush to his cheeks.

Ah, yes, that.

After days of teasing on her end and relentless flirting on his, they managed to steal a spare couple (more like ten) moments to quickly have sex in an unlocked supply closet. His gloved hand clamped down over her mouth to keep those delightful whines and gasps of pleasure from escaping the closet as he thrusted into her slick cunt.

He must refrain from submitting to her attempts to get a reaction from him. Instead, he falls back into the role he plays in the presence of others—the calm, wise teacher always ready to spout Jedi morals at his apprentice. Those broad shoulders square themselves, allowing her to feel the intimidation of his height advantage as they come to a natural stop beside his starfighter.

"Not necessarily."

And, choosing to play along as the bright-eyed student as if she hasn't known him in the most intimate ways and made him weep while he fucked her, she raises a brow in a silent command for him to elaborate.

Anakin cuts a glance back at the door through which they came, his sole display of hesitancy short of what emotions she can sense coming off of him, then speaks.

"It depends on who you ask. Master Yoda says fear leads us to the dark side. I would say that fear is natural. It's where you allow it to lead you that tends to cause the most problems. At least, that's been the case for me."

If he's interpreting things correctly, he thinks he almost feels her sudden curiosity.

Of course, Y/N takes this as her chance to taunt him, which he anticipated. Her head angles to the side to allow herself a better look at him. The inches between them wane with the little steps she takes to invade his space.

"So," she murmurs, batting her lashes, "Where will you allow it to lead you now?"

This causes him to freeze.

His mouth twitches with the urge to say the first filthy thought that comes to mind, but he manages to restrain himself. Due to his level of trust and comfortability with her, he doesn't bother concealing the perverse nature of his thoughts from her searching mind, but he makes sure not to give her the reaction she hoped for.

Instead of rushing forward to kiss her, he simply says, "Wherever you want me to go."

The tension between them has gone taut, and it feels as though the oxygen has been vacuumed from the surrounding air. There it is again, that needy, obedient side of the otherwise commanding and unrelenting general that, somehow, turns molten beneath her touch. It isn't always this way. There have been instances during which Anakin has taken back control with great enthusiasm, holding her wriggling limbs down with the Force while he fucks her until she's drooling and whining for release like the employees of that bar selling their bodies for a hefty sum of credits. It pleases him, to say the least. He is merely a man, after all. Not even Jedi are immune to such things. At least, he isn't.

In response, Y/N sends him the lewd image that prompted her to lead him out here in the first place, and it doesn't take him longer than a few seconds to walk around the side of his ship to climb up into it. She doesn't have to ask him why. If the image she pushed into his mind is to be fulfilled and proven true, he'll need to be sitting inside.

Once he's standing on one of the wings, he looks down and asks, "Are you coming?"

A feral grin lights up her face.

In the time it takes her to jump up onto the wing of the ship and follow in his footsteps, Anakin has already seated himself behind the controls and waits for her with an excitement that threatens to eat him alive. Obviously, she tortures him, moving as slowly as she can and taking her sweet time before closing the door behind her.

What she sees before her is nothing short of breathtaking.

He sits back against the seat with his thighs spread in expectance of her settling into place on his lap. It makes her stomach flutter to merely look at him like this. His mouth is tilted in a smirk, so arrogant when in his own element. In heated flashes, she can see it. She can see what he'll look like once she's through with him. Pink, kiss-swollen lips shining with a mixture of their spit, cheeks flushed a deep shade of scarlet, brows scrunched as he hits his peak—it overwhelms her mind to an extent that nearly prevents her from moving. But, she manages.

She takes her place astride his lap with nothing said between them, no communication outside of their unbreaking stare and shared thoughts. Her palms slide up from where they brace against his toned abdomen until they hold at his shoulders. After a second, she finally speaks.

"Go on."

What he saw in her projected thought was downright filthy. It immediately caused his cock to stiffen in his trousers, but he isn't going to go along with every little thing she shows him. Despite how he surrenders himself to her in moments like these, that doesn't change his protective nature with her.

"No."

Y/N frowns at him, and she makes sure to exaggerate how she always does when trying to get what she wants from her master. Although, she doesn't call him that much anymore. As of late, it's always "Anakin" or "Ani". It's only "Master" in the presence of others who may look too closely and pass judgment should they show signs of their frequent intimacy.

"Please?" she begs and shifts in place to "accidentally" brush up against his growing erection.

The thing is, he is a lucky man. What she imagined them doing is lifted straight from the pages of fantasies he had back when he was a hormonal young man with no outlet for it.

Anakin's features harden, but his eyes remain softened when he shakes his head at her. As much as he once would've died to know that a girl wants to fuck him while he pilots his ship he can't say yes.

"We can't," he says, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "You're far too dear to me. I won't risk it."

Deep down past the inkling of disappointment, this warms her heart. At the beginning of whatever this is, she didn't think it to be anything more than a sexual relationship of convenience, but the things he says sometimes...Sometimes, he says stuff like that, and she has no other choice but to refrain from asking him to marry her right then and there. As of late, the lines have been to flirt for her to distinguish what they are to each other. It began with them as strangers, then master and padawan, friends, and now...this.

"Well, at least in this scenario we'd be going out together. Kind of romantic if you ask me."

His face shifts at this, and, though it's silly, it makes him feel so loved.

"Or foolish."

"Or tragic and beautiful."

He huffs a laugh.

"Well, even if you're right, I'd like to keep you for a little while longer if that's alright with you."

In answer to his sweet rejection, she offers a shy smile and murmurs, "Okay," before leaning forward to connect their mouths in a kiss.

It begins slowly, a tender brush of her lips on his, then, after they get a taste of one another, it transforms into something urgent and primal. The hands perched on his shoulders dip back down to feel their way along the length of his torso as he reaches up to cup her face in one hand. The tips of his fingers curl around the back of her neck and dig in to pull her as close as possible. He's found that kissing her is quite an addictive thing. The more he does it, the more disconnected he becomes with reality. She has a way of erasing everything else that exists in the galaxy whenever she's near.

From her relentless, shifting a moment ago, she can now feel him pressing up against her between her parted thighs, and she is quick to move her hips on him. The pressure of the contact made on his cock draws a sharp breath through his teeth, and he feels her smile into his mouth.

She whispers, "You're so sensitive."

The embarrassment radiates from him, but, even if she couldn't sense it, she can hear it in the words he says next.

"Don't make me pull rank on you."

This pulls a giggle from her, and he'd be annoyed if the light, melodic sound weren't the prettiest laugh he's ever heard. It is moments like these that convince him that this—choosing to cross this line with her—was the right decision, no matter what anyone may have to say about it should they be discovered.

Y/N pulls back just enough to see his face in the dim light and raises her brows.

"You can't pull rank on me."

He scoffs.

"Of course, I can," he says, "Not only am I your master, I'm a general."

She gives him a pointed look, then reaches for the skirt of her plain night dress to pull it up her thighs. The sight of her bare skin makes his mouth water, but he gets more than he anticipated when she pulls the fabric up around her hips to reveal herself to him. No underwear.

She makes quick work of his belt, allowing the lightsaber attached to slip away to the floor. Her hand is already wrapped around him and pumping at a lazy pace by the time she talks back to him.

"How can you keep up the big strong general act?" she asks and dips her head down to kiss him, tugging on his bottom lip with her teeth. "How do you think they'd feel if they knew their general let his Padawan order him around?"

There's a slight shift in her weight that lifts her hips up enough for her to guide the leaking tip of him to her entrance, and she presses her forehead to his to watch his face as she sinks down onto his thick cock. The second he bottoms out inside of her, he has already lost whatever game they were playing together. The heat of his exhales cloud against her face, warning her skin from the cold air that flooded in before she closed the door.

It takes a moment for them both to adjust.

Feeling the walls of her cunt squeezing around him almost sends him over the edge immediately, and he has to concentrate on keeping himself together with his eyes shut and open mouth hovering over hers. It amazes him that it never gets old with her. Even after all the times they've done this together, he can't stop coming back for more. How could he ever refrain from this, from her?

"Ani," she says through a sigh, her voice nothing more than a soft push of air.

His brows furrow from the pleasure of having her merely sitting like this on him, and he nudges his nose with hers, leaning in to offer her a sensual kiss as he murmurs, "I know, I know." One hand comes up to wrap her hair up around his fist and uses it to tilt her head back a little to allow his lips to meet her neck. It's a tender kiss. The kind that says all of the words he can't seem to whenever they're together, but, of course, she must get him back for it.

She clenches down around him as she rocks her hips back and forth slowly, oh so slowly, for the sake of torturing him. The hand that isn't wrapped up in her hair grips her hip hard enough to bruise the soft skin like a ripe peach.

He shakes his head.

"No," Anakin says, and she halts, fearing that he no longer wants this. In response to that insecure thought, he chuckles. "No, it's my turn to have my way with you. I think it's time you learn your place, Padawan."

To his shock, Y/N laughs in his face.

The hand gripping her hip is ripped away and pinned to the seat by the invisible hands of the Force. They both know that he could stop her from pinning him down if he pleased, but he doesn't dare to. Not when she's looking down at him like that, moving her hips back and forth on him at a steadier pace now, and he's powerless to do anything but enjoy the sight of her above him.

She says, breathless, "I think we both know that won't be happening."

For emphasis, she starts to ride him harder, faster, and pulls his face into her hands to keep him at a distance just far enough to allow her to see him, yet close enough to make him try to lean forward against her touch for a kiss. It's needless to say that she doesn't allow him to. Instead, she lets one of her hands slip down from his face to collar his throat the way he had done to her the first time they were intimate together in that rundown bar on Coruscant.

Fuck. He wasn't prepared for that. No, no, no, he thinks, breaking the hold she had on his hands and gripping her hips to slow them down, but—

Anakin's eyes clamp shut as he buries his face in her neck and spills into her with a groan, not wanting to meet her gaze in his embarrassment. All he can think in the seconds after the mind-numbing bliss of his orgasm is that he ruined it. She had crafted the perfect fantasy in her head, and he couldn't keep it together long enough to allow her to enjoy it for longer than a moment or so. His eyes are already flooding with tears that hang on his lashes, threatening to fall at a constant rate and wet her delicate skin beneath.

At first, she almost doesn't understand—the way his hand broke free and grasped her hips, his groan, and the pulsating sense of warmth that filled her in the seconds following—but after a second, it clicks with her what's happening, and she can't help how her lips curve into a little smirk.

Oh, she thinks to herself, this is too good to be true.

Despite his increased degree of sensitivity in the aftermath of his orgasm, she doesn't stop. It isn't uncommon for him to be able to keep going after he comes sometimes, so it doesn't take her by surprise that he remains hard inside of her. And this is what truly breaks him. This is what reduces him to a clingy, teary-eyed mess with his arms closing in around her waist as she moves on his cock, taking what she wants from him with the knowledge that he's always belonged to her tucked safely away in her heart.

The hand around his neck squeezes tighter as if for the sake of taunting him, and she brushes the tip of his nose with hers. So close to connecting their mouths yet too far.

"So needy," she says amidst the harsh bouncing of her hips. "You hardly lasted a minute, it's pathetic."

Hearing those words lights a fire in the distance pit of his abdomen, pleasure sparking like the light of a fire once more. A matter of seconds was all it took, and the degrading words spoken to him couldn't be more true. Despite the fact that he likes being talked to like this and treated like he's lower than her. That paired with the feeling of her tight walls clamped down around him pushes him right back to where he had been when they started, albeit much more sensitive in the wake of his orgasm.

His hands leave her hips grapple for purchase on her waist to pull her body closer to his, never satisfied with the degree of closeness. Not even when he's inside of her.

"M'sorry," he whispers with tears shining in his eyes and tries to jut his face forward for a kiss to no avail. "I'll be good this time, I swear..."

The fingers digging into the sides of his neck loosen slightly at this, and she can't help but soften at the sound of him pleading with her. Seeing the tears in his eyes, although not from anything but a strange mixture of pleasure and embarrassment, plays a part in it as well. This is what he likes—being broken down into pieces by her, used and degraded, then built back up again with hushed words of praise and soft touches. At last, her hand slides up from its home around his throat and holds his face by the chin, keeping his head tilted back against the headrest to allow her a better look at him.

Anakin is and has always been, devastatingly beautiful. Beautiful in a statuesque way that only art can be. Yet, somehow, like everything with him from his strength in the force to his immaculate conception, he defies the rules and offers the artists of the universe a face, a body, a mind to challenge that of their meticulous creations. To capture his likeness would be impossible. Even she has trouble reining him in during these moments. He is simply too much in every conceivable way—too much power, too much beauty, too much ambition—to ever be confined to the prison of a painted canvas or sculpture. The only entity he will allow to confine him is her. Not even the Force may take precedence over the deity sitting astride his lap.

The scar cutting through his brow down past the edge of his eye is slightly raised beneath the thumb she allows to drag down the length of it. Using the hand that isn't grasping his chin, she inspects it carefully and cups his cheek. Now, the motion of her bouncing on him shifts into more of a sensual grinding—something far more intimate and slow.

"Mmm," she hums a quiet moan and keeps his head pinned back against the headrest under the doting guidance of her hands as she fucks him. "You really are trying to please me, aren't you?" There's a heavy sigh that sinks her chest, and he feels her tighten up around him at the familiar feeling budding within her. The thumb that caressed his scar now brushes the swell of his bottom lip as she says, breathless and breaking character for a second, "Ani.."

He begs, not even fully sure what for, "Please."

To this, her lips curl upward in a soft smile, and she decides to give him what he wants. After all, he's gotten himself so worked up over it, she might as well take care of her beloved, sensitive master. The hand holding his face drop and wrap around his wrists to guide them from her waist back down to her hips. That way he will have a better hold and leverage on her.

Finally, she grants him the opportunity to kiss her, and he engages with an enthusiasm that puts their previous kisses to shame. But before he can allow his tongue to push past her parted lips, she pulls back a hairs width of space to whisper, "If you get me off in less than a minute, I'll let you come again." The air they breathe in and out runs hot from both their exhales and the words she speaks. After a pause, she reminds him, "You better hurry."

The hands on her hips squeeze hard as he shifts beneath her and plants his feet firmly on the floor of the aircraft to anchor himself in place before he starts to thrust up into her. Her body jolts hard against his from the strength of him fucking her, holding her there over top of him and looking into her eyes as he diligently works to bring her pleasure.

As their mouths fall apart from a heated kiss, he murmurs, "Touch yourself," to her, knowing she needs the added stimulation to be pushed over the precipice that his cock alone has brought her to.

She giggles, apparently not fucked out enough to drop her domineering attitude much to Anakin's dismay, and asks, "You can't make me come on your own?"

By the darkness that stirs in his irises, she can tell that she has awoken a sleeping monster with these words, and in spite of his lust for her controlling him in every way, he has never been able to back down from a challenge. Especially not one against her. He thinks he scolds her, muttering something about her being a brat, but that could easily be in his head. At this point, he isn't sure which urges have been acted in and which remain a blissful fantasy. With how easily the power shifts between them, a constant game of tug of war, it wouldn't surprise him if he said it aloud. His cybernetic arm wraps around her waist and pulls tight to imprison her against him so closely, she could not move or squirm away if she wanted to. Which, she doesn't. His flesh hand, however, disappears between their bodies to allow the rough pads of his middle and ring finger to make contact with her aching clit.

Y/N's body turns molten in his grasp in response. What little handle she had left on her composure now crumbles as he fucks her hard and deep enough for his tip to hit her cervix each time. The heady blend of pain and pleasure reduces her to hysterics, falling over until her body is fully braced against his with her forehead resting on his shoulder. It renders her useless. All she can do is moan and gasp and cling to him as he ruins her. If she were to pull away to look into his eyes, she'd find a man possessed by lust and obsession. All directed at her, of course.

Every brush of his fingers on her clit brings her closer and closer until the tight thread of tension within her finally snaps, pushing her over the edge with her mouth falling open in pleasure. Even as she shakes in his arms and digs her fingernails into his arms with enough force to break the skin beneath his clothing, Anakin doesn't let up. He keeps pushing her further throughout the aftermath of her climax and forces her to ride it out without any mercy shown for her obvious sensitivity.

It isn't until the intense pulsating waves of bliss recede that she can regain her senses and withdraw her face from where it had been buried in his shoulder.

She drapes her arms over his broad shoulders, keeping him equally as trapped in her embrace as she was in his, and allows her forehead to press against his as he continues to fuck her. The arm around her waist squeezes like a vice, and she can tell how close he is by the erratic nature of his thrusts. It almost makes her wince in sensitivity to feel him pounding into her harder than he had been seconds ago, reckless and blind to any harm he may be doing to his precious Padawan as a result of his lust, but she stifles the sound. A part of her likes this aspect of it. The idea of him using her like she's nothing more than a toy for him to play with once she's had her fun.

Her lips smear a wet kiss against the top of his head where his skin meets his hairline, murmuring, "Good boy," under her breath. A fraction of a second later, she says, "I want you to come inside me."

This sends him into a frenzy—his hand slips out from between their bodies to take hold of her hip and stabilize himself as he chases his release. Now, she can't help but wince at the ache he causes inside of her, but he knows better than to stop at the sound of it. The last time he did, she punished him for it, so now he never stops when he's fucking her. Not unless she tells him to.

Anakin pulls her hips down to him one last time before he stills inside of her, barely moving at a slow pace to grind into her. She's so fucking tight like this—with her legs on either side of his lap—and he can tell that she's purposefully squeezing down around him to intensify the sensation, drinking in the sight of him coming undone beneath her with an awestruck expression. The warm, pulsating presence of him inside of her is intoxicating. She can't help but grind down against him, keeping him as deep as possible. Every hot spurt of his release fills her to the brim until she can feel the sticky fluid dripping around where the base of his cock keeps it trapped inside of her hole.

The thought of the consequences this could have is scandalous enough to bring an added flush to his cheeks. Nothing would please him more than to see her marked so publicly by him, her belly swollen beneath her clothing from growing his child, but it would never work. At least not right now. Not unless they changed their circumstances to allow them to experience the joys of parenthood together. Seeing that they are both devoted to the order, however, it seems impossible.

"That's it," she whispers, allowing him to hug her close and place a series of wet kisses across her neck in the time it takes him to come down from his orgasm. Her fingers card through his overgrown hair and pull it taut from his scalp just for the sake of torturing him. "Did so well."

All she gets in response is a sound she can only categorize as a mix between a whine and a hum. Seeing that he's still inside of her, every time she does so much as shift her weight around, he is reeling from overstimulation. And because she knows him so well, better than she knows herself, she takes it as her chance to show him mercy and lifts her hips up to help him pull out before it becomes too much.

Once she helps him pull his underwear back up his hips along with his pants, Y/N falls forward into him with a sigh.

Their faces are so close, any slight movement could make their mouths meet in a kiss, but neither of them does so. They sit like this, his hands on her hips and hers on his shoulders, and catch their breath in comfortable silence. If anyone were to visit the hangar and look inside, it would be easy to assume what has happened. They both appear properly fucked out with their hair in disarray from having each other's hands in it, their clothing hanging from their bodies, and their cheeks tinted pink.

The only sound that can be heard over the silence is that of their heavy breathing as it gradually evens out again in the aftermath of their exertions.

A moment passes, then Anakin breaks the silence with the last thing she expected to hear from him, "We shouldn't even go back." His hand cups the back of her neck to allow him to pull her face away enough for their eyes to meet. At first, she assumed he was kidding. But, once she saw his face, she knew he wasn't. "Not tonight, I mean."

She keeps brushing through his sweat-damp hair with her fingers to tame it into a more presentable style. Those pretty lips of hers pull back from her teeth in a smile.

"And where would you have us go instead, Ani?"

There's a second of hesitation, just one, before his face lights up with a mischievous smirk.

He shrugs, feigning innocence, then says as though it's as casual of an activity as going for a late-night walk together to clear their heads, "I would have us fly somewhere far away, somewhere no one would recognize us..." His eyes soften at the words that will leave him next, and he traces the slope of her waist a few times with his fingertips in a soothing pattern."Somewhere we could get married without any of them knowing."

The smile drops from her face, and with it so does his heart.

No, no, that was to much, wasn't it? Even though she surely must know by now, he has never actually said he loves her out of fear of her not reciprocating. It didn't seem wrong in his head, but now that he's suggested it aloud and she is looking at him like that, he isn't sure. This is always what he does. He is too rash, emotion-driven, and consumed by his urges to ignore them. It was part of what made him such a difficult Padawan for Obi-Wan, and now it's proving to be a conflict in his relationship with her as well.

He's about to take it back, to apologize and tell her they should go back downstairs, when she speaks. But it isn't what he expected to hear. In fact, it warms a place deep inside of him that he thought was hardened from years of hardship and grief. And he knows now that she feels the same way as him, even if neither of them has said it.

"I think that's a wonderful idea."

[ivysangel]

I am dead serious when I say that you guys need to start giving writers feedback more often. I have a fic here that has a total of 4015 notes and only 218 aren't likes. So, let me break this down for you a bit.

Of 4015 notes, 186 are reblogs and 32 are comments. Two reblogs, as well as comments, are mine so I'll subtract them from the equation making the total number of notes 4011 (184 rbs, 30 comments, 3,797 likes).

Of the 184 reblogs, 16 are private, meaning they're absolutely useless in spreading and sharing the piece. The remaining 168 consists of 136 reblogs falling under "other reblogs" while only 32 fall under "comments and tags." And of the 32 under "comments and tags," only 9 have something besides a copy of the tags that I included in my initial post.

The 184 reblogs make up 4.6% of the total notes, the reblogs under "comments and tags" make up 0.8% of the total notes, and the reblogs under "comments and tags" with anything besides tags copied from the initial post make up 0.2% of the total notes.

At one point, I reblogged the post, asking if anyone wanted a part two. That's when I got my first comments. The first 6 comments were in response to that, and of the 30 total comments (excluding my own), only two were unrelated to a part two. Which means I can guarantee that I wouldn't have had that many comments had I not posed the question of a sequel fic.

And if I add those 2 comments to the 9 reblogs, I get 0.3% of the total notes on my post that make up the portion of notes that aren't likes, empty reblogs, or comments about a part two. And that's me being generous because two of the reblogs actually do mention a part two.

I also posted a poll asking what people wanted in part two, and that poll got 238 votes. That is 54 people more who voted for what they wanted in a part two that didn't reblog or help push part one.

Don't get me wrong, I love seeing people in my notifs liking my posts, but sometimes it's just not enough. It is utterly exhausting waking up to multiple hundreds of notifications and not seeing a single person compliment your work. You guys will like stuff, follow, and then head straight to the inbox asking for more. I know it's been said a hundred times before, but we are not machines; we do this for free in our spare time.

The post in question was written when I was tired out of my mind, and I ended up not liking it, so I let it sit in my drafts. I briefly mentioned it on my blog and was met with one of my followers showing interest in the idea, which prompted me to revise, edit, and post it. It was a gift, as are all fics and pieces of art by writers and artists on this site, and yet it was treated like a commodity.

When people say it's unmotivating they're not kidding. When I had 100+ asks in my inbox, all of them being requests, I felt like I had the worst case of writers block known to man. I would open my inbox and immediately close it because the idea of posting anything knowing the only response would be more requests, was awful.

When people leave little messages in the tags, full-blown commentary, or kind messages in my inbox referencing posts, I feel more motivated than ever. Those responses are what drives me to write more. But when I, and other writers, are being treated like we're here to cook up whatever fantasisies you have in mind, I can't help but side-eye a little.

We wouldn't write if we didn't enjoy it, but the moment it feels like a job, it becomes that much less enjoyable, and then everybody loses. Just send a kind message to your favorite writers every once in a while. I promise it'll make their day.

I would also like to say that as I've written this, I've seen more people like that post. So, there's that.

[fungifanart]

A scar in the mind

Characters: Male reader, Yuu!reader, Rook Hunt, Epel Felmier

CW: Discussion of injury/scars, spoilers for some of Book 6??? I guess???

Word Count: 1.5K

Notes: I know for a fact that I'm not the first and certainly won't be the last to write something like this, but here it is anyway.

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

Rook Hunt is known as many things: A skilled hunter? Quite. Vice housewarden of Pomefiore? A title he wears with pride. Lover and pursuer of all things beautiful? Most definitely.

And it is because Rook is all of these things that he finds himself flying at breakneck speed over the ocean towards where his housewarden is being held, albeit with two more companions than he had originally planned for.

Though, he's hardly complaining. Especially after the beautiful display of resolve the two men in question had shown after they'd run into him on his way out.

Rook is truly grateful to have been blessed with such wonderful companions.

And so, when one of said companions begins shivering due to not being dressed to withstand the cold, what else can Rook do except offer his spare Pomefiore uniform?

Upon landing and setting up camp for the night, Rook presents the Prefect with his spare uniform, "You may change behind the trees, so long as you don't stray too far from the camp, Trickster." He says while he and Epel turn towards the bonfire.

"Oh, no. It's fine. I'm used to changing in front of other people." Rook hears the Prefect say as the shuffling of fabric can be heard.

Surprised by that statement as he is, Rook still endeavors to give the other man SOME privacy. That is, until he glances over at Epel, who is looking in the Prefect’s direction with wide eyes.

Following Epel's gaze, Rook turns back around towards the Prefect only to be greeted by a horrifying visual cacophony of scars painted all along the once blank canvas of his back, shoulders and arms.

All along his right arm, Rook notes several puncture wound scars and then a full stab wound scar on his left shoulder. On his hip, Rook sees an unfortunately familiar sight in the form of a sickly green, blotchy scar created by a corrosive acid. Finally, on the center of his back, Rook sees large claw-shaped scars surrounded by dry, cracked skin.

"Trickster…" The man in question stops changing upon hearing Rook's nickname for him, "What has happened to you?" Rook says quietly and with no hint of his usual persona.

Rook hears the Prefect’s breath hitch for a moment before sighing, "Yeah…I had a feeling you guys would say something. Give me a minute." He says FAR too calmly for Rook's liking while he resumes changing into the spare uniform.

Once he's fully changed, the Prefect turns around and joins the other men around the fire.

The next few seconds of tense silence are broken by Epel, "So??? Are ya gonna explain???" He asks urgently.

"Personally, I don't think there's much TO explain. You guys aren't stupid. There's no way you haven’t heard the rumors by now." The Prefect says.

Rook has no rebuttal. He knows exactly what the other man means. No matter how hard they try, the news of an overblot will always make its way to the rest of the student body and, in the same breath, the Prefect’s name will always come up.

"So, those scars are from…?" Rook trails off, not wanting to say it.

"Yep. Each scar you saw is traceable back to one of the five overblot incidents I was involved in." The Prefect says matter-of-factly while pulling up his right sleeve, "These ones happened because one of Riddle’s rose vines got a hold of me while I was trying to protect Trey. I could barely write with this arm for a while after that."

Rook and Epel sit there in stunned silence as the Prefect continues.

"The one you saw on my back happened because I threw myself between Ruggie and Leona during his overblot. Leona was charging right for him and he was already in a bad way, so I figured I could take a hit or two. Oh, and don't bother with the dry skin. I've tried everything at this point, so I think it's just like that for good now." The man continues nonchalantly.

Rook begins to notice a pattern with these stories as the Prefect pulls down the fabric on his left shoulder.

"This one came from the trident Azul's phantom had. I was trying to push Leona out of the way of it and ended up getting skewered myself. Heh, he got SO mad at me afterwards! Still not sure why, though." He explains with a small laugh.

But neither Rook nor Epel laugh with him. Why is he making jokes about this?

"And, of course, I don't think I need to explain how I got the one on my hip, seeing as how you guys were there when it happened." He says while motioning to the two other men.

Unfortunately, the Prefect truly doesn't need to explain. Rook still remembers the sight of him shoving Epel out of the way and taking part of a blast of Vil's poison.

Silence falls over the area as the Prefect is seemingly done explaining despite not addressing the question that is no doubt on both of his companion's minds.

"Wait, isn't that only four?" Epel asks, ever the straightforward one.

"Well, it's not like I got out of Jamil’s overblot unscathed, but I wouldn't really call it a 'scar.'" The Prefect responds while taking off one of his gloves, "During the fight, I took a magic blast for Kalim, got flung back hard against a pillar and hit my spine in a way that messed up the nerves in my hands, so now I've lost some feeling in them." He says while looking at his hand melancholically, "Oh, don't tell either of them I said that, by the way. I wouldn't want them to feel guilty."

Rook's mouth is agape as his mind tries and fails to rationalize the sheer disregard for oneself the Prefect is displaying.

"Trickster, why would you do all of this?" Rook finally says in genuine concern, earning a confused look from the other man.

"What do you mean? Everyone's always saying how I'm useless and a liability because I can't use magic, so I thought this was the only way I could make myself useful." He says while pulling his knees towards his chest, "Though, sometimes I can still feel the pain, when I think about what happened."

Then it clicks in Rook's mind. This is his fault. And not just his, it's Epel's as well. No, not even just those present. Everyone at NRC did this to him. All of them.

While he may not have been personally acquainted with the Prefect until recently, Rook had heard the whispers about him that echoed through the halls since the day he was brought to this world and did nothing to stop them.

Whispers that tell of a "fittingly useless prefect for that rundown dump."

Whispers that reduce him down to his lack of magic and ignore his qualities as a person.

Whispers that would sometimes even come from the mouths of people whom he would consider friends.

Whispers that the Prefect has no doubt heard constantly, warping his perception of himself into someone expendable. Someone whose problems must always be put on the back burner in the face of someone else's.

Looking at Epel, Rook knows he's had the same realization by his shell-shocked expression and before the two men know it, they've moved to sit on both sides of the Prefect, who doesn't seem to mind.

"Well, fer what it's worth, ya should know that yer always welcome in Harveston." Epel says in an attempt at comfort, "Meemaw always mentions ya at least once in her letters to me, askin' if you've been eatin' well, amongst other things, so I think comin' with me to go see her would make her happy!"

"Really…?" The Prefect asks, slightly surprised.

"But of course!" Rook jumps in, "You should also know that my siblings have been asking about you as well!"

"H-huh? Why??" The man asks, thoroughly confused as Rook takes his hand.

"Because, whenever we talk, I always tell them how truly magnifique you are, Trickster." Rook says softly, "How caring and truly irreplaceable you are."

The Prefect blinks for a few seconds, caught off-guard by Rook's sincerity.

“And someone as irreplaceable as you shouldn't be putting himself in harm's way so often.” Rook continues, “After all, I'm sure your family couldn't bear to see you return to them in a coffin.”

The Prefect’s eyes go wide in realization and then begin to glisten with tears as he looks at his free hand which begins to tremble before fully burying his face in his knees and crying.

“mommy…daddy…” He whispers between sobs.

Rook releases the other man's hand and instead wraps his arm around him in comfort as Epel leans against his other side, letting him safely release his pent up emotions.

Rook may not be able to change the past or silence the hateful whispers in the halls, but, starting with this moment right here, he might just be able to ease the pain of the Prefect’s scars, both mental and physical, until one day, they disappear altogether.

[crepesuzette2023]

Your top 5 favorite Mclennon quotes?

Hi Anon, thank you for asking! The following aren't quotes I'd construct into any kind of 'proof' (whether I'm into this or not is another set of footnotes, which I'll spare you), but quotes that illustrate that John and Paul's relationship was fascinating and intense, and puzzling to themselves and others (incl. yours truly). 1.) “Meeting Paul was just like two people meeting. Not falling in love or anything. Just us. It went on. It worked.” — John Lennon - The Beatles by Hunter Davies

2.) “Lennon had attitude, and, taking his lead from Lennon, McCartney could be similar. At times, they reminded me of those well-to-do Chicago lads Leopold and Loeb, who killed someone because they felt superior to him. Lennon and McCartney were ‘superior human beings’.” — Bob Wooler in Mark Lewisohn’s Tune In

3.) “John and Paul paired off - only to find themselves stuck together for life. For John, Paul was the boy who came to stay; for Paul, John was the song he couldn’t make better” — Rob Sheffield, Dreaming The Beatles

4.) TELL ME WHO HE IS. Early song by Paul McCartney, included in The Lyrics (2021). Written in the late 50’s/early 60’s, according to the caption. (photo of journal page)

Tell me who he is Tell me that you’re mine not his He says he loves you more than I do Tell me who he is

Tell him where to go Tell him that I love you so He couldn’t love you more than I do Tell me who he is

5.) John Lennon's word association list from 1976 New York: great Elvis: fat Ringo: friend Yoko: love Howard Cosell: hum George: lost Bootlegs: good Elton: nice Paul: extraordinary Bowie: thin MBE: shit John: great

BONUS TRACK: “I had signs that the group was gonna break up, because… I mean, I think really what it was, really all that happened was that John fell in love. With Yoko. And so, with such a powerful alliance like that, it was difficult for him to still be seeing me. It was as if I was another girlfriend, almost. Our relationship was a strong relationship. And if he was to start a new relationship, he had to put this other one away."— Paul McCartney (1985), link to interview here

PLAY IT BACKWARDS: "LONDON (AP) — John Lennon wrote vitriolic comments about fellow-Beatle Paul McCartney in a picture biography of the famed pop group, providing new evidence of the tensions between them, the Observer newspaper said Sunday. [...]

"Lennon marked almost every one of the 76 pages with corrections and comments, including one that the Observer took as an indication the group already was experimenting with drugs in the 1960s. [...]

"In an entry noting McCartney’s marriage to Linda Eastman, Lennon crossed out “wedding” and wrote “funeral”, the Observer said. [...]

"But in a final tender moment, the Observer said, Lennon wrote under a photo of himself with McCartney: “The minutes are crumbling away.” (full article.)