#you get to a point where no matter how much you know it you gotta hear it

[forcebookish]

cher going from barely able to answer "do you like me"

to projectile crying about how much he cares for and wants to be with gun

to scolding himself for being so in love

that boy is never finding his way back

[piplupod]

today is absolute garbage but i am going to try to do some painting on my project nonetheless, doing my best to attempt to claw my way out of the suicidality goop

[luxraydyne]

wait, dude, wait. aini was supposed to be cosmic horror??

girl, seriously? i dunnooooo i’m not really feeling it fellas

[ranvwoop]

i am going to be so vulnerable in public for just a second. literally just for lack of therapy and for the love of psuedoanonymity except. it isn't really

[valeriehalla]

actual writing advice

1. Use the passive voice.

What? What are you talking about, “don’t use the passive voice”? Are you feeling okay? Who told you that? Come on, let’s you and me go to their house and beat them with golf clubs. It’s just grammar. English is full of grammar: you should go ahead and use all of it whenever you want, on account of English is the language you’re writing in.

2. Use adverbs.

Now hang on. What are you even saying to me? Don’t use adverbs? My guy, that is an entire part of speech. That’s, like—that’s gotta be at least 20% of the dictionary. I don’t know who told you not to use adverbs, but you should definitely throw them into the Columbia river.

3. There’s no such thing as “filler”.

Buddy, “filler” is what we called the episodes of Dragon Ball Z where Goku wasn’t blasting Frieza because the anime was in production before Akira Toriyama had written the part where Goku blasts Frieza. Outside of this extremely specific context, “filler” does not exist. Just because a scene wouldn’t make it into the Wikipedia synopsis of your story’s plot doesn’t mean it isn’t important to your story. This is why “plot” and “story” are different words!

4. okay, now that I’ve snared you in my trap—and I know you don’t want to hear this—but orthography actually does kind of matter

First of all, a lot of what you think of as “grammar” is actually orthography. Should I put a comma here? How do I spell this word in this context? These are questions of orthography (which is a fancy Greek word meaning “correct-writing”). In fact, most of the “grammar questions” you’ll see posted online pertain to orthography; this number probably doubles in spaces for writers specifically.

If you’re a native speaker of English, your grammar is probably flawless and unremarkable for the purposes of writing prose. Instead, orthography refers to the set rules governing spelling, punctuation, and whitespace. There are a few things you should know about orthography:

English has no single orthography. You already know spelling and punctuation differ from country to country, but did you know it can even differ from publisher to publisher? Some newspapers will set parenthetical statements apart with em dashes—like this, with no spaces—while others will use slightly shorter dashes – like this, with spaces – to name just one example.

Orthography is boring, and nobody cares about it or knows what it is. For most readers, orthography is “invisible”. Readers pay attention to the words on a page, not the paper itself; in much the same way, readers pay attention to the meaning of a text and not the orthography, which exists only to convey that meaning.

That doesn’t mean it’s not important. Actually, that means it’s of the utmost importance. Because orthography can only be invisible if it meets the reader’s expectations.

You need to learn how to format dialogue into paragraphs. You need to learn when to end a quote with a comma versus a period. You need to learn how to use apostrophes, colons and semicolons. You need to learn these things not so you can win meaningless brownie points from your English teacher for having “Good Grammar”, but so that your prose looks like other prose the reader has consumed.

If you printed a novel on purple paper, you’d have the reader wondering: why purple? Then they’d be focusing on the paper and not the words on it. And you probably don’t want that! So it goes with orthography: whenever you deviate from standard practices, you force the reader to work out in their head whether that deviation was intentional or a mistake. Too much of that can destroy the flow of reading and prevent the reader from getting immersed.

You may chafe at this idea. You may think these “rules” are confusing and arbitrary. You’re correct to think that. They’re made the fuck up! What matters is that they were made the fuck up collaboratively, by thousands of writers over hundreds of years. Whether you like it or not, you are part of that collaboration: you’re not the first person to write prose, and you can’t expect yours to be the first prose your readers have ever read.

That doesn’t mean “never break the rules”, mind you. Once you’ve gotten comfortable with English orthography, then you are free to break it as you please. Knowing what’s expected gives you the power to do unexpected things on purpose. And that’s the really cool shit.

5. You’re allowed to say the boobs were big if the story is about how big the boobs were

Nobody is saying this. Only I am brave enough to say it.

Well, bye!

[neverendingford]

.

[ragingbookdragon]

It comes as somewhat a surprise when the others realize that something has obviously happened between their resident Lieutenant and Private, as she’s quick to fall silent whenever he appears, and even more so make herself scare when she can when he’s around. It’s only the third time that Soap sees it that he says something, because if he doesn’t no one else will, and where’s the fun in that?

He watches her duck her head and leave the break room, Gaz, Soap, Price, and Ghost sitting alone at the breakfast table conversing over soggy cereal and cooling tea; Soap pushes a piece of bacon on his plate and asks, “Trouble in paradise, Lt?” the corner of his mouth arches with a slight grin when he hears the warning grunt come from Ghost.

“No.”

“Seems like it,” he retorts, taking a sip of his coffee. “What’d ya do? Tell her ta fuck off?”

“Drop it, MacTavish,” Ghost warns darkly. “Nothing’s wrong.”

This time, Gaz jumps in. “C’mon, Lt., it’s obvious that something’s wrong. I mean, she won’t even look at you, let alone say anything unless you speak first.”

“An’ she’s callin’ ‘im ‘sir.’” Soap adds, pointing at him. “Christ, Lt., ya musta done a number on ‘er. Poor Puffin. So sweet and kind. Broke ‘er heart ya did.”

Price can tell that Ghost is close to snapping at the both of them but gets to it before he does. “Soap, Gaz, go catalogue our inventory for the mission next week.”

“Aw, but we already d—” Soap falls silent when Price shoots him a look and quietly grumbles to himself as he grabs his plate and cup, Gaz following in suit.

It’s only until the two soldiers are alone that Price asks, “What did happen, Simon?”

Ghost lets out a long sigh and rolls his head back, staring at the ceiling. “Pretty much told ‘er to fuck off.”

Price watches quietly as Ghost begins rattling to himself—he’s never really had to ask the man to explain himself. All he’s gotta do is prompt him to do so and Ghost does the rest.

“I just got mad. She’s always ‘round and practically up my arse, and I got caught up and instead of ‘andlin’ it properly, I shoved my fucking foot in my mouth and scalped her.” He rubs a hand over his face. “I meant to be gentler but once I started, I couldn’t stop. It just kept comin’ out. And now she fuckin’ hates me.”

He pulls his hand down and looks up at Price with a scowl—the man is smiling at him, but it’s that stupid smile that means more than Ghost wants to admit it does.

“Quit that.”

“You care about her,” Price murmurs, rubbing his chin thoughtfully, though his admonish is still harsh. “And instead of telling her how you felt like a grown adult, you took the ten-year-old way out and decided to be a cunt to her.”

“I didn’t mean to be such a cunt.”

“But the fact of the matter is that you did, and you’ve screwed up team fluidity and cohesion.” He looks at him. “You know a team divided—”

“Can’t stand,” Ghost finishes with an even worse scowl. “Yeah, yeah, I know.” He looks away. “I just don’t know how to even start tryin’ to fix it.”

“Well, apologizing might be a good start,” Price rumbles with a grin. “She’s a good kid, Simon. Her heart’s in the right place, even if it’s a bit much at times. Shows she cares. More than most do in our line of work. She’s a rare one.”

“I know,” he admits in a much, much softer tone. “I just don’t want her to lose that doin’ this.” His eyes meet Price’s, and they hold such a misery. “Look at us, Price,” he mutters, gesturing between them. “Middle age, unmarried, no kids, too fucked up for anything like that. She doesn’t…” he clenches his jaw. “She deserves a better path, a safer path, than this life. She deserves to go out and have a life where she comes home to a family.”

“That’s not your choice to make, son,” he replies gently, but there’s a firmness to it. “If this is what she wants to do, then she will. We can’t make her get out of service.”

Ghost growls low in his throat. “She has so much more potential than being cannon fodder. She could do somethin’ with her life. Somethin’ good. Somethin’ that won’t have her dying face down in the sand with a bullet wound in the back.”

Price simply watches him.

“But she’s so fuckin’ stupid. She wants to be here. She wants to spend whatever time she has dodgin’ bullets and wakin’ up every night in sweat ‘cause she can’t escape the dreams. No one wants to do this. We don’t want to do this. We do this because we have to. But her? She’s happy here.” He lowers his voice, it’s as if he’s in disbelief. “She’s happy here.” He looks at Price. “Why? Why is she so happy here?”

It's another long moment before Price speaks.

“You hear, son, but you don’t listen.” He moves the cup on the saucer. “She bounced around homes growing up, scraped by on the skin of her teeth. She has no one. But here, she has something. She has people who care for her, if nothing else, they won’t let her die alone.”

“Oh what? So, it’s found family bullshit?” Ghost spits. “If she dies, at least the team would mourn her?”

“Isn’t that what you’ve done too?” he replies, and Ghost falls silent. “People like Gaz, Soap, and myself are different than you and she are, Simon. We have homes. We’ve had families that have loved us, that do love us. But you two? Simon, you’ve made a home where you’ve had to. Made a family out of people you’ve bled for, would gladly bleed for. You’ve made something that’s yours. You made a family for yourself. And so did she. She’s made us her family. The one she never had the privilege to call her own.”

Price lets out a quiet hum, and pats his thighs, standing up and pushing his chair in.

“Think on what I’ve said, son. And if nothing else, apologize and leave it at that. Put the ball in her court and let her make the next move.”

As he walks off, he hears, “And if she doesn’t want it?”

He tosses a knowing look over his shoulder. “I’m sure she’ll take it.” His eyes twinkle as he adds, “Takes an awful strong woman to care about a man like you.”

[kissitbttr]

this is miguel o’hara being a dick

pairing: miguel o’hara x fem!reader

-

miguel knows he’s fucked.

he has been neglecting you, putting his work above your needs and ditched on dates he can’t count with his fingers. at first you were okay, given that you’re dating such a busy man like him, you understand the consequences.

but you’ve had enough. there were nights where you cooked dinner, only to be left untouched by him or where you softly cried yourself in the middle of the night because he was still out. the only time he comes home is when you’re already asleep, then he left to the HQ in the morning before you’ve gotten the chance to wake up.

you confronted him about this. paid a visit to his office before going to work. Jess and Lyla had warned you to not disturb him but you managed to make them back off with a single frightening look.

yes. they are scared of you. a lot of them are. they do not want to test you at all.

the moment you stepped into his office, he didn’t even bother to look. eyes were just too focused on his work that he assumed Jess was the one who walked in.

“oh, you’re fucking your co-worker now?” your tone laced with sarcasm and anger with arms crossed over your chest,

hearing the familiar voice, he had never whipped his head so fast. “y/n? what are you doing here?”

“well” you start, heels clicking against the floor as you step towards him. “since my boyfriend has been MIA for almost a week i figured i should stopped by.”

his head shook, turning his focus back to what he thought mattered most. “not right now, mi amor. I’m working.”

“i can see that, dumbass” you respond in a cold tone. frowning as to why he couldn’t take one second off from that god damn screen. “you and me are going to get breakfast together. now. before i go to work.”

“i told you I can’t. I’m busy” he replies, brushing you off with his hand. “next time.”

“i’m a busy woman too!” your voice shakes, wanting so bad to scream at him and throw that tiny desk at his head. “but I always want to make time for you, Miguel!”

no response. he muttered something under his breath but you couldn’t hear him.

un-fucking-believable

“you’re such a fucking asshole, you know that?” tone laced with venom as you spit the words. clenching your fists by your side as you struggle to hold back the tears. “i feel like this relationship is one sided, the only person that is truly making an effort is me. you don’t—“

Miguel couldn’t take it anymore. he threw a desk and it went flying, thankfully it didn’t hit you. though your eyes went wide in shock, a loud gasp left your lips as you covered your mouth with your hands.

“you’re right! I don’t! I don’t care about some silly little fucking breakfast when the universe depends on me!” he pointed at himself as his irises turned red when he looked at you. his breathing went heavy and he still wasn’t aware how scared you were at him at that point.

“do you have any idea how fucking hard it is to keep all this shit together?! how many people will die if i don’t do what i gotta do! I don’t always like it, y/n but i have to do it! and here you are trying to play house with me it’s fucking pathetic!” he scoffed, putting his hands on hips.

oh he did not realize how much his words hurt.

the room was filled with silence. you stared at him in disbelief but remained a stoic expression. you were taught better than to be weak before any men. Miguel was no exception. your mother would be disappointed if you let a man win.

“wow” you breathed, nodding. “that was a good speech actually, the longest one I’ve ever heard you talking” you tried to sound sarcastic but how you felt and how you sounded failed you.

Miguel was quick to notice this and his features quickly soften. he reached out quickly to hold you.

“cariño i—“

“I’m returning back to my apartment by five. do not fucking look for me” it was final. the way you said it, how your eyes remained empty as you spoke to him. Miguel knew better than to test you,

but he just did and now he’s paying the price,

his heart broke when he heard you said that. you were so tired of him and you just wanted him back. you want your man back but he couldn’t see how that mattered to you.

“baby, please—“

you held your hand as you turned around. “don’t you even think about sending Jess or Miles my way.”

with that you walked out of his office without uttering another word. leaving him speechless and heartbroken. he knew better than to follow you out, it would just make things worse. he was just going to let you cool off.

he didn’t know how long it was gonna take.

it has been almost a month that you two have been living separately. and he’s losing his mind. he can’t sleep, he can’t eat, he can barely walk out of the house without seeing all the things that remind him of you. the team even sensed something is wrong because he has been more short tempered than before and it almost made the rest of spider society terrified of talking to him.

he’s gotten more violent, that’s for sure. every enemy he encountered, he would leave them bleed with their faces unrecognizable. it was his way of taking his stress out. not exactly healthy but it’ll do for now.

but he thinks that this has gotten too far. he misses you terribly, your scent, your laugh, your voice, your body, and mostly… your pussy

God, the amount of times he sniffed your panties while he jacked off as the image of you clouded his mind was simply not enough.

and now here he stands before your apartment door. dressed nicely in a white buttoned up shirt with his sleeves rolled to the elbows and a pair of black pants. his ring cladded fingers nervously grip around the boquete as the other hand shoved into his pocket.

Miguel had never been this nervous before. toeing his shoes and tapping his toes against the floor rapidly. it’s probably already been fifteen minutes that he’s standing like that staring at your door. thinking far too carefully what he wants to say.

he decides it’s now or never as he raises his fist and knock softly against the wooden door, hoping that you’re home.

“coming!” he hears your voice, his stomach somersaults hearing that after what it felt like a thousand year. “i am so hungry, why are you delivery guys always taking so—“

soon as you open the door, you freeze. definitely not the takeout delivery boy and instead it’s the one person you’ve been avoiding for God knows how long.

Miguel’s mouth hangs open slightly as he slowly taking in the sight of the gorgeous woman before him. you put on your favorite lime green night gown that stops just above your knees with a white silky robe, your hair fall down gracefully. natural curls framing your face. eyes glinting under the light, he almost falls to his knees and thank the Lord for your existence.

beauty doesn’t even begin to describe how you look tonight.

Miguel realizes how he probably looks like an idiot. clearing his throat to regain his composure as he smiles awkwardly at you. “Hi.”

you stare at him as your features then showcase a displeased expression. “what are you doing here?”

you’re leaning your body against the doorframe, arms crossed in annoyance. eyes flickering from his face to the flowers he’s holding and back up to his eyes. as much as you hate to see him, you can’t help that little feeling of butterflies in your stomach when you see the flowers he’s holding.

tulips. your favorite

he takes a one step closer to your frame, breathing out a sigh as he looks down at you. “I’m sorry, mi amor.”

that earns a scoff from you, looking away. “good start.”

“i was a horrible boyfriend.” he admits, gulping as he sees how sadness and exhaustion taking over your face just like that. “you don’t deserve that. what i said to you that day… none of it was true. you were not… pathetic, nor were the idea of having breakfast together… I appreciate every single thing we’ve done together, baby. believe me, por favor…”

a hard stare is the only thing he gets from you. the way your lips form into an angry pout and how your eyes seem to get tired and bored from his confession.

you’re a difficult person to please. he knows that.

“i know that being stress is no excuse of what I’ve done… I should’ve—fuck I should’ve done better. a month without you was like hell, mi corazon. ay, me sentí como si estuviera perdiendo la cabeza.” he sighs in frustration, head shaking as he recalls many sleepless nights. “i love you so so much. i do not want to go through that again … i know that it’s going to take forever to get your trust back and everything, but i swear on my mother’s grave that i—“

“stop talking”

he shuts his mouth after that. eyes looking up to you when he realizes you’re talking to him after a prolonged silence that’s taking over.

seeing how broken he looks almost feels like your heart got plucked. as mean as you are or as much as you wanted to look like you don’t care, you can’t when it comes to Miguel. you love this man far too much and despite his cold cold persona, that’s a huge sweetheart underneath.

“you hurt me, Miguel.” eyes casting down the floor as you try to keep your voice low. “you threw a desk to my direction…”

he shakes his head at that, resisting the urge to cradle your cheek. “lo siento, mi amor. I didn’t mean—“

“yes i know, i heard you.” you sigh, eyes closed momentarily. “you scared me”

Miguel feels his heart breaks when he hears how your voice breaks. he carefully lifts his hand to softly palm your cheek, thumb grazing against the skin. he exhales a soft sigh when you aren’t pushing him off.

“I didn’t mean to do that to you, my love. fuck, I’ve hurt you. i will never forgive myself for that. i was supposed to be the one who protect you and i was being a huge asshole.”

“a cute one though” you pout at him,

he chuckles at that, feeling the tension between you two are finally cutting down. “you’re too sweet, baby… after all i had done to you”

“nothing compared to how you treated me for the past two and a half years.” you smile sweetly at him, hand wrapping around his wrist. feeling at home once he holds you in his palm. “still a good man.”

he shakes his head in disagreement. “no, no that doesn’t excuse it… i was in the wrong.”

you hum in response, looking at the pretty flowers still in his hand. “are those for me?”

he nods with a smile, “you’re my only woman, no?”

you bite the inside of your cheek as you smile, taking it from his grasp as you sniff the pretty petals. “i love them. thank you.”

he once again goes quiet, taking another step closer. eyes looking down at your glossy lips and he can’t take it anymore. he doesn’t care if he’s stepping boundaries here. “i miss you, cariño. can i show you just how much?”

his offer sends shiver down your spine, making it impossible for you to stand still. Miguel always knows your sweet spot, how to make your knees feel wobbly without having him to touch you.

you do miss him touching you,

“i have a ballet class to teach tomorrow, papi. Saturday morning class, you remember ?” a pout formed on your lips, yet you still allow him to pull you close to him as he closes the door behind. “plus don’t you have work too? i bet Jess needs you.”

Migue nearly growls at you calling him ‘papi’. his jeans growing tight as you look up to him with doe eyes that you know he loves. though sometimes, you don’t understand the effect you have on him.

“that can wait… you’re more important to me than anything” he whispers, giving your open hand a kiss. large palm coming down to grip your waist, giving it a light squeeze. “do you want me too?”

you respond with a slow nod, biting back a smile as you interlock your hand with his pulling him inside. his smirk grows wider as he leans over to capture your mouth in his,

“let me fuck you real good then we can come home, eh mi vida?” he promises against your lips, slipping your soft silky robe off of you before picking you up in bridal style causing to shriek and giggle,

“i wanna hear you scream my name.”

-

part 2?

[zepskies]

Headcanon: When You're Having His Child...

Pairings: Dean Winchester x F. Reader, Beau Arlen x F. Reader, Soldier Boy/Ben x F. Reader

AN: This one is requested by @cevansbaby-dove, and is kind of a continuation of this imagine: When you have morning sickness.

Tags/Warnings: Potential fluff overload.

HC: How Dean, Beau, and Soldier Boy (Ben) would act while you're in labor.

Dean Winchester

Oh, sweet man...

Dean does the thing where he pretends he has his shit together.

He's really trying, for your sake, for his own, and to save face around Sam and Eileen and Jody and everyone else in the hospital waiting room.

They can see it, and he knows it: he's freaking the hell out.

When he's in the room with you, he's either helping you, holding your hand, waiting for you to be dilated enough to start the whole "having a baby" process, or pacing around on those bowlegs, occasionally dragging a hand over his mouth in that telltale nervous gesture.

"Babe, come 'ere," you say with strain. That last contraction really took it out of you. "You're making me even more nervous than I already am."

Dean goes to you and smooths a hand over your hair.

"Sorry, sweetheart. I'm sorry. How're you holding up?"

Tears well up in your eyes, but you try to breathe through it. You're overwhelmed, you're in pain, and you've been in labor for several hours already.

"We're ready for this, right?" you ask, squeezing his hand. He sits on the edge of your bed and makes sure you look him in the eyes.

"We're about to find out," he says, with a bit of teasing. But his gaze is steady when he brings your hand up to his lips. "You don't gotta worry about anything. I'm gonna be with you, come whatever, okay?"

You smile, because you don't just believe him. You know.

Because after years of fighting together, surviving together, living together, you know that this is just one more adventure you get to go on with him by your side.

Now, Dean would rather not see all the gritty details of the birth, but he stays in the delivery room, letting you squeeze the shit out of his hand. He's not going to leave your side. He's wiping sweat from your brow and encouraging you, being whatever kind of support you need.

After the baby's born and the nurses bring her back all cleaned up, Dean holds his daughter for the first time.

He has tears in his eyes. For a long moment, he doesn't even blink. He stares down at that small, perfect face. Already he sees some of your features in her.

He can't put into words how he feels. It's overwhelming in his chest. But one thing is certain...

Dean's never been more grateful to be alive than in this moment.

He blinks, and the first of his tears fall. He brings her to you, sitting down carefully on the edge of your bed again so you can hold her. You're beyond exhaustion, sweaty, and weeping, but one thing is certain...

You've never been more grateful for Dean than in this moment.

You turn to him, giving him a small smile. He returns it, and he leans in to give you a gentle kiss.

"Do you have a name picked out yet?" one of the nurses asks.

You and Dean share a look: his imploring, yours knowing.

"We're not naming her Baby," you warn him.

"Aw, come on."

Beau Arlen

Round 2! 🫡

Beau runs the gambit from excited, to anxious, to freaking the hell out, and back to excited.

This is "Round 2" for him. His second child. But he's had reservations about being an "older" father to a new baby. (He's pushing 50 at this point. No matter how much he keeps in shape, he still feels his age in his bowlegged knees.)

You've assured him that plenty of men have children at his age.

Regardless of his insecurities though, you know he's still over the moon. Beau has always wanted more kids, deep down, and now thanks to you, he's getting his wish.

He's the man who's "prepared for anything."

When your water broke, he already had your to-go bag ready with everything you might need.

But he continues to ask you questions from the moment he's got you out the door to the drive over to the hospital, and even in the lobby.

"You thirsty? You comfortable like that? How's the pain? Just breathe, baby. I gotcha. Watch your step now. You hungry? We've got protein bars in the bag, unless you're cravin' something else. First things first, let's check in. Oh, I hope we can getcha in a private room. Let's see--oh damn, they sure are packed today, huh? Okay, how're you holdin' up? How's the pain, level of 1 to 10? Yep, got it, hold my hand. Just breathe through it. I gotcha."

Bless him. The man means well, but he's driving you freakin' crazy.

"Beau, I know. If you don't take a breath, I'm gonna pop you in the damn nose."

He tries not to smile at your grumpiness. "...Okay, I hear ya. Let's just get you into your room."

He rarely leaves your side during the entire labor, just to get you anything you might actually need. The radio at his belt occasionally goes off for work, but he apologizes, having forgotten to turn it off. He put Jenny in charge while he's gone.

"Let's just hope the precinct's still standing when I get back," he jokes. He finally turns off the radio and takes it off his belt, to your relief. And he returns his undivided attention to you.

Beau witnessed the birth of his daughter Emily, so he's no stranger to being in the delivery room. He even ventures past the curtain when your son is born, breathing air into his little lungs and letting out a powerful cry.

Beau laughs with tears in his eyes. "That's my boy."

When the nurses place him into your arms first, Beau supports your hold and brushes your sweaty hair back from your face. "Good job, honey. Good job."

"I know," you tease weakly.

Beau chuckles. He presses a lingering kiss to your forehead and looks down at the small bundle in your arms and his.

"We have a son," Beau says. His eyes are red and shining. "I have a son."

"You have a son," you nod. You look over at him and lean in for a kiss. He obliges you, and rests his forehead against yours afterwards.

Life is meant for moments like this, he thinks.

He's damn grateful it's with you.

Soldier Boy (Ben)

Readers of Strong as Blood in the BMD-verse will recognize some of this HC...

This day has been a long time coming, for both of you.

He smells like cigar smoke when he comes back into your recovery room. For which you have no doubt, Ben had been puffing away with Butcher and M.M. outside the hospital. 

Ben was with you for most of the lead up to the birth, but you actually agreed that having him in the delivery room wasn't a good idea. He never did well with you in pain, and with his temper, he might just scare the shit out of the doctor and nurses.

He strides toward you though, when he enters the room. He lays a hand on your head and another on the baby's tuft of brown, downy hair.

"We have a daughter," you tell him, with a watery smile.

Part of him still twinges with disappointment. He didn't react well when he found out you weren't carrying a boy, his future son.

(You'd given him enough hell that he never brought up the subject again.)

But that all fades away when he looks down at his daughter's face.

He carefully sits on the edge of your bed, but he's suspended in time. His chest tightens in a way he's never experienced before.

It's almost like pain, but not. Not at all.

He brushes a thumb along the baby's soft cheek. He's almost hesitant to touch her, knowing how fragile she is.

"Beautiful, like her mother," he says at last. And he means it.

He earns your smile.

"Flatterer," you accuse. You know you look as wrecked as you feel. Somehow, none of that matter's whenever you look at your child's face.

You look over at Ben with a shining smile. His lips twitch. He leans in and meets your lips with a kiss, slow and deep and intimate in this quiet little room.

“You okay?” he asks you, after he pulls away. “Got everything you need?”

He’s become even more protective, of course, but also more attentive to you. Especially in the last few months of your pregnancy, seeing how uncomfortable you've become.

It warms you every time, when you consider how rough, how stoic, and how damn-near emotionally repressed he can be.

It seems that fatherhood is beginning to soften him, even before he begins. You quirk a smile at the thought, and at his question.

“Imagine pushing a super melon out of your dick. That’s how I’m doing,” you say cheekily.

He snorts a bit loudly at that, and you shush him, as if it wasn’t your fault he was laughing. He expects nothing less from you.

“But I’m okay,” you answer his second question. “All I need right now is you.”

Ben considers you, a slightly gentler smile curving his lips, and he nods.

“All right,” he says. In this moment, he realizes that his entire world is in this room.

He’d never admit it, but it's a terrifying thought, for a man who once had everything and nothing.

You unknowingly stop the path of his thoughts when you ask him, "Want to hold her for a while?"

Ben perks up at attention. He's a bit uncertain on how exactly to hold the baby, but he can't lose face and tell you that. So he just accepts the bundle when you place her in his arms.

As he looks down at a small face that already has some of his features, he inhales a faltering breath.

It's the first time you ever see true tears in his eyes, despite how much he resists. One manages to draw a path down his cheek. 

“You know, you’re blessed to have my genes, sweetheart,” he says. It elicits a knowing scoff out of you. “But you’re also lucky as hell to have your mom.”

Ben looks up and finds the predictable well of tears forming in your eyes. His smirk softens around the edges.

“She’s the best damn woman you’re ever gonna meet,” he says.

AN: All right, I'll stop. 😭 I hope you enjoy this one, fluff overload and all! Who was your favorite this time: Dean, Beau, or Ben? 💜

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[cheeseceli]

When you struggle to eat

Pairing: Ot8!skz × Gn!reader (individually)

Genre: hurt/comfort, fluff, reactions

Request: reader thinking she eats "too much" and decides to eat way less for her body image, and how the skz boys would react to that.

Warnings: eating struggles will be discussed; reader has body image issues; mentions of food multiple times; use of petnames in Chan and Changbin's

Disclaimer: this was made with the purpose to comfort anyone who's going through a similar situation. If I made a mistake and made someone uncomfortable/aggravated the situation, please do tell me and I'll correct or delete this post immediately, whatever is preferred. Topics related to eating disorders will be discussed here, please don't read if that's something that triggers you.

Bang Chan - is ready to listen to all your worries

‌We all remember Chan's Room right?

‌He's ready to spend hours if needed just to understand what you're going through ‌and where your insecurities are coming from

‌At the same time, he will never judge you

‌So you know he's your safe place

Constantly checks up on you even if he's far away through texts and calls

And if there's someone who's aggravating the situation or making you insecure, you can bet he's gonna solve the situation himself

"Talk to me baby. What's going on in that mind of yours, hm?"

Lee Know - eats with you

Probably the first to realise something's off, considering food is almost his love language atp

Likes to have as many meals with you as possible

‌He usually makes a mountain of food in his plate, so you don't worry about the amount of food in yours

‌And he also runs errands with you

‌Especially those like buying food

‌You don't even gotta ask, he would be volunteering on the first opportunity

‌Also cooks for you, whatever you want

"Do you want to eat anything? I can cook"

Changbin - Hype man

‌Your personal hype man fr

‌Is ready to compliment you in absolutely everything

‌The best part is that you know that his compliments are always genuine

‌What do you mean you didn't like that trousers?? You looked fantastic in it! That shirt made you look even more gorgeous

‌He has known you for so long and still, he always finds something new to compliment you on

But even if after all the reassurance you want to change the way you look, he will be by your side to help you do it in a safe and healthy way

"You look perfect, baby. I promise. Actually, I still don't believe I managed to pull someone so beautiful like that"

Hyunjin - has all meals with you

‌And with that, I really mean all meals

‌Breakfast, lunch, dinner, you name it

‌Even if you can't really get out of your work place or your university, he's going there then

‌He just doesn't want you to be by yourself

‌He also always has something to say during those meals

‌News about their comeback, gossip at jyp, stories from his childhood...

He never fails to admire you a lot in those moments as well, never letting you forget how much he loves and appreciates you

‌He does that hoping it will distract you from the food, so you can be more at ease

"Have I ever told you about the time Kkami bit my ankle? I think I still have the scar."

Han - makes you feel beautiful

‌He truly doesn't understand how you don't think you're the most beautiful human being to ever set foot on this earth

‌In his eyes, you were born perfect

‌So, naturally, he makes it his mission to make you see yourself in his point of view

‌Compliments and adores you

‌Will make you feel beautiful, pretty, sexy, cute... Whatever you wanna be

‌Above all, he'll make you feel loved

"No matter what size, you'll always be my love. Don't forget that."

Felix - distracts you

‌With that, I mean that he tries to take your attention off food and body image related subjects

‌Before and after eating, he will always bring you along to activities where your mind can be turned off

‌So many fun dates!!

‌Even during the meals he'll have a similar idea to hyunjin and simply won't shut up

‌Most of his compliments don't involve around your body, so you really don't think about it

"I love this hairstyle of yours. It looks wonderful"

Seungmin - protects you

‌In a sense that no one even dares to comment on your looks/habits

Even if he isn't there with you

‌That because he made it very clear that everyone should watch their mouths around you

‌For as long as he's around you, he will do his best and more to protect you from harmful comment

Also tries to experiment a lot of different foods with you all the time, so you never feel like that's a burden or a bad thing

"Hey, have you heard about the new restaurant close to home? The food is peruvian. We could have dinner there tonight."

I.N - physically reassures you

‌He loves you and every single part of you, including your looks

I believe he was a bit lost in the beginning, not exactly sure on how to help you

‌But even if his words aren't exactly his biggest strength, he still wants to reassure you as much as he can

‌So he does that with his touch

‌Holding you on his lap, kissing all of your "imperfections" and tracing patterns in your skin

‌Anything that can ground, reassure and give you comfort at the same time

"Have I ever told you how perfect you are? I should tell you that more."

Masterlist | you'll probably like: when you're overworked (ateez comfort)

Thank you for reading<3 I hope this was able to help someone

» I won't put the taglist on this one as I don't want to tag anyone in something that can possibly trigger them «

Dividers by @/cafekitsune, images 1 2 3

Thank you so much for the beta readers: @duhgurl @beebee18 @applekiwi3202 @elqivxstxr @mrsunshine999 @msauthor

[usedpidemo]

Cruel flower (Jo Yuri)

“You sure you really like my dress for today?” 

For the record, this is the fifth time Yuri has asked you this question. Whether or not you disagree, your choice doesn’t matter. She’s going to show off, and for good reason.

You’re not the only one anticipating some antics on stage.

To be fair, they’re not exactly the kind of antics you’d expect, as though one makes a fool of themselves like it was part of a humiliation ritual. Yuri is much more intricate and flirty, as seen with her choice of outfit for today’s performance. It’s tasteful with a hint of sexy, yet easy on the eyes. The kind that leaves your mind questioning as to why she dresses herself like someone she’s not, even if you enjoy staring at her bewitching appearance. 

She makes your heart race in countless ways you never knew could happen.

“I mean—even if I said no, you’ve already made up your mind. So what is the point,” you tell her, covering your mouth, your gaze peering down at the garter and stocking combo completing her floral ensemble. To say they complement her would be an understatement; even by her relatively tame standards, this is a little too bold and showy for her fans.

But the thing is, it’s not her normal audience she’s performing for. Thousands of fans are lined up all over the convention floor, mainly to see their more popular favorites. Not helping matters is that she’s one of the rare handful of soloists, the number which you can count with just your fingers, which typically don’t generate as much interest as an average group. Right from the start, she’s fighting an uphill battle, and this is her one of the limited opportunities to steal everyone’s hearts and attention, especially on a bigger platform.

Yuri turns around from the mirror, having put on the finishing touches of her makeup, facing you with a dour, mocking pout. “You’re no fun.”

Indifferent, you brush her off. Her contemptuous responses are part of the package, something that encompasses your daily routine. The less you entertain her, the better and the wiser you are, especially during these more serious times. You’ve learned that you find yourself less likely to fall in danger when you don’t give Yuri even the smallest of openings.

Unfortunately, it’s a lesson you have to be reminded of more often. 

“But you gotta admit, I look really good, right?” she questions you, as if you haven’t been ogling her from the moment she presented herself to you in just her lingerie, garter and stockings. The dress is just the cherry on top of what you consider near perfection. 

It’s intentional trolling at this point.

“I don’t know,” you tell her, hiding no hint of sarcasm. “Could use a little less”—you suddenly stammer—”You know—”

“Could use a little less what, babe?” Yuri approaches you, seated on the couch, pressing her palms on your knees, smirking, plotting. The thin layer of dress sweeps forward, revealing some cleavage and her necklace. She’s all up in your face, her lips nibbling on the ridge of your ear, her neck flashing a still fresh hickey from earlier in the day, her hot breath sending chills down your spine—her favorite form of showing affection. 

If you had any less restraint, you’d take her on this very couch, rip off her clothes and fuck her on said mattress in every position imaginable. Forget the crowd, much less the fact that you’re in a backstage room, where the walls are paper thin, so much so that even the slightest sounds can be heard from the outside. No matter how you spin it, there’s always clear and present danger waiting for the most inopportune time to strike. This is how Yuri gets you: by putting you both in the most uncomfortable situations possible, career be damned. It isn’t due to a heightened sense of thrill under duress, but it’s just the way she is. Insatiable. 

As easy it would be to fold right then and there, you make it a point to keep her in check, much to her disappointment. In a way, you’re kind of her unofficial co-manager, except you just so happen to share the same bed with her.

“No,” you tell her, holding face, holding her by the wrists, rising from the couch and leading her against the makeup table. “Don’t even think about it.”

“Fuck you,” she replies, not hiding her frustration. She matches your stern glare with of her own, but she comes off as more of a spoiled child than an actual threat. There’s more charm to find than seriousness in Yuri’s cutesy features. “You really are no fun at all, asshole.”

Releasing your grip on her hands, you make a concerted effort to fix up her loose dress, then leave a peck on the cheek. All while you admire the little details that complete her look. You can’t help but kiss her softly, inadvertently calming her down. Undoubtedly, she’s pretty, but she’s even more special today. 

“It’s only a what? Thirty minute set? It’ll go by in a breeze,” you tell her, as if she hasn’t been going through the festival circuit just the other month. On her part, it feels way longer since she performed in public, and that’s in no small part to her spending all her spare time with you more than anything or anyone else—to the point of being overly attached. 

Yuri sighs, rolling her eyes, hating the notion of being away from you for more than a few minutes. She makes one last hail mary effort to lead you on by wrapping a leg around yours, but you immediately catch on and put her in place. She’s so visibly miffed, that it’s easy to feel any sort of sympathy for her, but you know this little devil is going to exploit your kindness and bury you in the process. 

“Please,” she pleads in her softest tone, ready to drop to her knees on command. “I don’t even need you to fuck me like a whore, but—please—let me suck your cock instead. Let me take a warm load down my throat and I’ll be good to go.”

Try as hard as she can, the idea passes through one ear and comes out the other. You don’t budge. Not in the slightest. 

“Please, babe—promise I’ll let you use me anyway you want.” Right on cue, Yuri sheds tears, eyes wide and bargaining. “I’ll let you tie me up and tease me with your toys like the bad girl that I am. Just give me this one thing. Please.”

Still, nothing she does changes your mind. You even toy with the fact she’s needy as hell. “Didn’t you just call me an asshole, asshole? Why would I let you suck my cock, let alone shove it anywhere near you or inside you?”

Her facade immediately disappears in place of self-defense. “Oh come on. I call you asshole all the time, asshole. Since you like that word so much, here: asshole, asshole, asshole. I bet it’s because it reminds you of how much you love using my—”

Unamused, you interrupt Yuri by backing her against the table again, imposing your superior stature over the frankly petite idol. She doesn’t look intimidated, and for good reason: you won’t do a damn thing to hurt her. Despite the clear assertion of power, it’s actually the opposite—she recognizes that you’re falling into her hand and gets off on bothering you.

“Go on. What are you gonna do? Spank my ass? I bet you’d love to do that to me now, do you?” Yuri’s chuckling, grinning wickedly through every word, knowing your attempts at punishing her only serve to derive her pleasure instead. Either way, it’s a lose-lose situation. Fold and risk your frisky relationship to the public at your expense, or only delay the inevitable and continue to be tormented at every chance she gets. The trouble never ends.

You end up backing away and leaving her alone in the room. You remember; it’s a miracle. “Just—act normal,” you tell her, sounding defeated as you open the door. 

—————

For the most part, she does. 

Yuri is a natural performer, as usual. She never really needed you to begin with. You found her like this. Any sign of weakness or doubt is virtually unrecognizable.

Being near the front has its benefits. For one, you’re merely a stone’s throw away from Yuri, meaning you don’t have to strain your eyes or constantly turn to the screen. No LED panel can truly display Yuri’s in all their glory. It also means when her earpiece randomly stops functioning, you’re a few inches away when she decides to entertain the fans with typical fanservice: giving high-fives, completing hearts, partaking in pictures, and so on. While everyone around you has their phones and lightsticks raised, you’re just watching along, basking in the moment, watching your girl do the thing she loves the most, besides doing you.

Yuri passes by your section, and immediately recognizes you on sight in the midst of the crowd. She throws a wink and a kiss in your direction—much to everyone else’s delight, but not yours. Apart from that one scene, there isn’t much fanfare or anything fanciful that you haven’t already seen from her. After only five songs, she bids farewell to the audience. 

Minutes later, you reunite with her backstage at her assigned dressing room. 

“Well well,” says Yuri, waiting by her lonesome at the makeup desk as you enter, sounding self-indulgent. “I did it, babe. Wasn’t so hard.”

Of course. Yuri can keep herself in control; she just chooses not to. It’s hardly a surprise to anyone, especially you.

“Were you expecting a cookie?” you comment, making sure her head doesn’t leave orbit. 

“Don’t be such a bitch,” she retorts, pouting her lips, irked at your remark. “Just say I did a good job. Being kind costs nothing.”

“And being an asshole also costs zero,” you retaliate, never letting up on the sarcasm. “Good job.”

“And? You’re missing one more thing.”

You raise an eyebrow, growing slightly crabby. “What? Isn’t a simple good job already enough?”

“C’mon.” Yuri steps forward with all the confidence in the world. The change of attitude in the room is sudden, abrupt. One quick shove sends you stumbling back onto the couch. Before you’re able to react, she straddles herself on your lap, having all of the leverage. “You know I gotta get my reward after every performance, babe.”

No matter where you turn, you end up back at square one: against Yuri. Her hands lead your wandering gaze toward hers. “God, Yuri, no—”

She shushes you, places a finger between your lips, shaking her head in disapproval. “I did my part. It’s only right that you have to return the favor. That’s the rules.”

“What rules?”

Yuri laughs. Shoots you this inviting, alluring look that’s asking—begging—for trouble. A perfect encapsulation of who she is whenever you’re alone together. Her fingers begin to pick through the buttons of your dress shirt, your countenance slowly unraveling as dread and danger clouds your mental functions. No amount of ignorance can save you. You’re trapped. 

There’s your answer.

As if that wasn’t enough, the finger between your lips is now replaced with hers. A kiss. Deep. Tender. Passionate. She’s engrossed in the moment, cupping your face to pull you down with her, forcing you into submission. There’s no escape. Whatever resolve you have left she gradually weakens, until you eventually close your eyes and reciprocate those feelings back at her, too. 

It’s a good thing you locked the door beforehand, as if you knew this was going to happen. 

You’re stuck in this fervent position for what feels like an eternity, when in reality, it’s only been a couple of minutes. Despite the precarious state you’re in, there’s something sincere when it comes to Yuri. Probably because she’s the only person on this planet with a face that could look innocent while clearly committing the act. Still, she’s up to no good, and she has you exactly where she wants you to be.

She pulls away from the kiss, her eyes glazed, her lips melding in the shape of a moan, even though you’re still clothed—for now. 

“Jesus, Yul, we really should—”

A second kiss interrupts your desperate plea. Yuri doesn’t want to hear any part of it. She knows what she wants. No amount of resistance will deny her this opportunity. She finishes unbuttoning the last of your shirt, slipping it off before throwing it aside, caressing your bare shoulders. All this while shaking her head. 

Pulling away from your lips again, she slips one of her dress straps down her shoulder. “I don’t fucking care. I want you now.”

Clambering off your lap, Yuri tugs at the hem of your pants, jutting your hips forward. You can only watch helplessly while she strains her lanky arms, unzipping your trousers, pulling on them again and again until they pool around your ankles and shoes. Her eyes fixate on your groin, gleaming at the welcome sight: a growing bulge beneath your boxers.

“How long have you been hard for me, hm?” She swipes at your erection a handful of times, each touch eliciting an airy groan from your lips. Biting on her lower lip, the sensation arouses her even further. “Did I dress a little too sexy for you today?”

If you could talk at that moment, you would say yes. The entire time you’ve been watching her on stage, your primary focus was her outfit over everything, including her soulful voice. As flattering as the simple but sexy ensemble was on its own, it’s even hotter in motion. It reminds you of when you first met in a similar place. Instead of thousands in attendance, it was only a handful of patrons at a small bar. And out of the dozens she could have ended the night with, it happened to be you. From the moment you laid your eyes on each other and exchanged smiles, you knew there was never going back.

You’re aimlessly pulling at strings, hoping to find a way out, a miracle. Instead, you’re digging your grave even further. The other strap falls down, pulling the rest of her dress along with it. Not of her own volition, with the culprit being your own hand. There’s nothing worth saving at this point, not even yourself. 

What a way to surrender. You haven’t answered her question formally, yet she understands what you were going to say.

Yuri leans forward, her attitude as bold as it's ever been. Despite her pretty smile, the hint of cleavage right in front of you sweeps away your gaze. Every part of her is a sight for sore eyes. She shudders, closes her eyes, slowly grinds herself against your throbbing bulge, finding your place beneath her even more suffocating. You can only sink back on the couch, moan along and let her neediness weigh you down. 

As the garment slips further down down her lithe frame, landing at the waist, you bury your head against Yuri’s neck. Romantic as it may look, it’s anything but. She keens against your ear, her nails scratching at your nape—all while you clamp down on her collarbones. Her whines sound needy, wanton, shameless. Her voice echoes beyond the four corners of this room, removing any pretense to any innocent soul passing by. Conveniently, music from the main stage is loud enough to cover your little act.

Maybe she really had it planned out all along.

While Yuri remains preoccupied by her senses betraying her, you reposition her away from you towards the table. You never let up on the passionate kisses and bite marks till her creamy, pale skin glows a deep shade of red. Then you twiddle with the zipper on her corset, sharply yanking it down, almost snapping the clasp in your haste to undress her. Fortunately, you manage to push the rest of her lingerie down to her waist, enough to where you can feel her bare figure with your hands. 

Asserting your control—something you should have had the entire time—you lay Yuri face down on the sofa, clambering yourself on top of the powerless idol. Manhandling her is as easy as breathing; she folds at the slightest push and prefers to be used as a means of personal release.

Reaching from behind, you rest a hand on her chest. You squeeze; she yelps. The feeling of her nub held between your palm while drawing out little, saccharine noises from her dirty lips scratches that sweet spot in your brain perfectly. It’s an addicting sensation you can’t get enough of. She is unable to fight back, her nails digging deep into the fabric of the couch, desperate to hang on, only to find herself going weak at the knees.

More and more, you find yourself losing control, becoming more ravenous. You quickly shed your boxers,  pushing them down as far as your knees, your struggling cock freed from its restraints. Your noises are turning more primal: less human, more animalistic, as your grip on Yuri tightens. You lay her body flat on the couch, make use of what little space is left, before digging between her legs to strip the panties beneath her skirt.

Part of you wants to slip a finger or two in there and play with her clit. It’s inconsequential, if not a small diversion from what really matters. Until you remember just how far off the beaten path you’ve already gone. If you don’t fuck her right then and there, you just might lose it.

Pressing the head of your cock along her lips, you come to a predictable conclusion: she’s soaking wet. Wet enough to raise some deep concerns. Your breaths tense up as you slowly enter and the walls pulse around you; the gap between you and her couldn’t be any narrower. 

The groan you release as you bury yourself to the hilt is worth a thousand reliefs. Nothing is as satisfying as that first entry into Yuri’s tight, suffocating pussy. Every single time. 

“Oh—fuck—” you blurt, immediately overwhelmed by the rapid surge of heat. In response, she lets out this sharp, echoey moan, stretching her head ever so slightly forward as she endures the stabbing sensation. The feeling doesn’t last long; you pull back, her walls pulsating against your cock, only to plunge right back in.

The little discomfort soon dissipates for pleasure. Yuri’s so intoxicatingly tight, so hot when you fill her with your cock. That’s why despite the uncomfortable scenarios she puts you in, you always fold, because you feel right at home in her cunt. It would be a disservice to take her like some dainty, delicate doll. And you wonder why she’s always so needy.

Spreading her thighs wider, you fuck her, slowly foregoing the comfort of a slow grind in favor of a erratic, torrid pace. Each thrust you deliver is hard, emphatic strokes, as if to prove two points: that you don’t take lightly to her antics, and that you will always overpower her. You shouldn’t be deriving any joy from this, but you’re loving every second using her as she wanted: as an outlet for your frustration. 

As for Yuri, she’s just as pathetic and helpless as always. Reduced to a heaping pile of moans and mewls. Her national position. Her favorite position. You should be wondering just how incredibly manipulative and conniving she is, getting you to act out for a little miscreant like her, when she should have known her place by now. Ultimately, there’s no point; there’s nothing that will get her to change her wicked ways, and every consequence only serves as her motivation to push you even further. 

The sounds filling the room are almost indistinguishable. Whether it’s the supposed thumping on the door or skin against skin, you don’t know. You’re twisting her dark hair around your finger, and her keen and shriek are one and the same. Meanwhile, your other hand can’t decide between her waist and her ass, both sensitive and satisfying to the touch. You’re both too engrossed in each other’s pleasure to care about anything other than the relentless collision of your bodies. At this point, you’re certain it is, in fact, a knock on the outside, but it will eventually disappear. They all do. 

Yuri is shaking, violently trembling, gripping to the couch’s handles, desperate for air. ‘More—harder—fuck me—’ she begs in repetition, every word spilling like a prayer. It’s amazing how she holds up against you. You wonder if her goal is to be seen like this—to be recognized as the fucktoy and brat she is. You can only contain her for so long; it’s only a matter of time before it blows out of proportion. That’s the thrill of the chase—to avoid being found and to escape with an inch of your life.

Your grip around her hair reaches a fever pitch, your teeth gritted and your breath heaving. You want to say you’re close, but that’s basically asking for trouble. Still, you can’t bear it any longer. “So close, Yuri. I’m gonna cum—”

“Fucking do it. Cum all over me. Inside me. Anywhere you want,” is her response, with you pressing her down on the couch out of fear any more filth from her lips will upend you quicker, when in reality, you were already in the process of falling apart. As far as vulgarity goes, it is among her tamest. You’re delaying the inevitable by only a few precious moments.

Then she cums. Unannounced, out of the blue. For all you know, she could have been screaming into the void the way her cries are muffled by the sofa.

Her juices flood your cock, almost making you snap in return. The feeling overwhelms you beyond definition; it takes every last bit of resolve not to break down right then and there. With a sharp draw from her warmth, her slick leaks from her cunt, spills down to the couch. Coating every inch of your shaft, the suffocating heat of her pussy pulls you right back in, and that final thrust sends you over the edge.

All that pent-up want and tension, unglued in an instant. 

Ignore that you let out this hoarse, powerful grunt from the depth of your lungs as you fill Yuri’s cunt with every last drop you have, as if you haven’t been fucking her multiple times a day for the last two weeks. The spillage on her skirt and dress doesn’t matter; as long as she feels every last speck of your cum inside her. You find solace on her shoulders, pushing your throbbing cock deep into her cunt over and over as you blast fleck after fleck that seemingly never ends. 

Eventually, you crash down on the other side of the couch, opposite where Yuri’s face rests. Taking a minute to catch your breath, you get a glimpse of your handiwork: your cum continuously spewing from her sopping cunt, down to the now soiled linen, the damage long-lasting, if not permanent. Had you torn the dress and skirt concealing her inner thighs, the signs wouldn’t have been any more obvious.

It takes a little longer than normal for you to gather your bearings. After all, you were straining your legs in a crowded room an hour before this little escapade. But you’ve been through worse—way worse.

When you finally regain some of your strength, you grab the still exhausted Yuri by the waist and bring her in front of the dressing room mirror. Her bare chest is in clear view, with her dress all crumpled up at the midsection; it’s going to require more than a simple fix. 

“Look what you made me do, you fucking brat,” you hiss, giving Yuri a thunderous slap on her ass. She sees it as not a punishment, but as a reward for pushing you far beyond your comfort zone.

She can barely move a muscle, but is able to respond in spaced out breaths. “Told you it was better than the bedroom.”

You respond with another spank. Then another. A few more. More than you can count. Each hit as thunderous as the clap of her cunt. You know it’s not going to stop her; she knows you can do nothing else.

Her hands cling to the desk, her breaths still heavy, while you slowly rip through the skirt, foregoing any logic. You catch a peek of even more of your handiwork, her ass burning with the same fiery red as the rest of her shapely body. 

Spreading her supple cheeks, you line your cock between her pussy and her legs, resting your head forward beside hers. Grabbing Yuri by the hair, you tilt her face down, moaning against her ear as your bodies entangle together. “Fuck you, Yuri. Sincerely, fuck you, fuck you. Fuck. You.”

With half an eye opened, you catch a glimpse of your reflection, and it’s as messy as you expect. Yuri’s mouth is spread in a deep, wide ‘O’ shape, still riding a prolonged high, while your fingers are all over her. On her breasts. In and out of her hair. The image is arousing enough that you instinctively push your bodies forward. You can feel your cock hardening again.

But right as you get into a rhythm, a knock on the door again snaps you from your shared daze. 

“Well? Bodyguard, you better go and get that,” she says with a slight smirk, her cheeks flushed in embarrassment. 

You throw your head back, groaning in despair. “Fuck’s sake,” you mutter, much to her delight and laughter. 

Yuri shimmies from your clasp, picking up pieces of her now ruined dress before walking to the bathroom, while you hike across the room to gather your wear. If there’s one thing about sex with her, it’s how filthy it gets. Clothes scatter everywhere, she’s loud enough to draw attention, and despite everything, it’s hot and messy in all the right ways. You end up fucking her in positions you never thought you’d ever try.

You barely make yourself presentable as you pick up the door, only to be greeted by a blonde beauty on the other side. Her dress immediately stands out; it’s simpler in both design and color (a plain black all over), yet so daring, it makes Yuri seem conservative by comparison. She knows what her best assets are and how she’ll flaunt them for all to see.

What also sticks out is her natural accent. “Hey. Don’t mind if I ask, but is Yuri around?”

With the narrowest of turns, you manage to ascertain her presence, or lack thereof. “You barely missed her, Somi. She just left.”

“Did she tell you where she went?”

“No idea.” 

Somi pouts. It’s a familiar look. “But I just heard her voice here. It was really loud!” 

“You just gotta text her. I seriously don’t know where she went off.”

Her eyes wander down to your ragged appearance, a stark contrast to your blunt tone. The loose belt, the partially unbuttoned shirt, the rolled up sleeves of varying folds. It’s a disaster of epic proportions, and you can barely hold it together. “You sure nothing’s happened in there?” she asks, hiding the littlest of grins. “You look kinda rough.”

“I’ll be fine. Just had to deal with”—you pause, a moment stretched out longer than it should have any right being—“some stuff.”

“Right.” Her eyes peek into the back, even with your best efforts to gently block her view, only to find nothing and no one. She considers her options, before saying, “Surely I can just wait till she comes back? I mean, you’re her bodyguard—”

“I don’t think that’s a great idea.” You shut her down immediately. “When she returns, I’ll let her know you were looking for her.”

There’s that trick again: a loose strap sliding down her shoulder. Her hand is glued to the doorpost, unwilling to move, expression undeterred. “I’ll just wait here. We still have a final goodbye to do for the fans. Don’t worry. I just really need to talk to her.”

Her friendly smile turns into a mischievous grin.

It’s deja vu.

—————

The goodbye never comes. 

Some poor random idol has to take Somi’s MC job at the eleventh hour because she’s nowhere to be found. Despite security’s best efforts, she couldn’t be seen, and neither is Jo Yuri, for the last sighting of the two is them leaving the venue by themselves, one after the other. Apart from a handful of disappointed fans, their absence can be hardly felt by everyone else. 

Not a soul knows where they went—and they never will find out, nor will they ever care. Only you may have the smallest of clues, for you are buried between two pairs of legs, preoccupied with eating out pussy while your hands squeeze on a couple sets of breasts in the cover of a hotel room.

—————

(A/N: HE HAS RISEN, BABYGIRL! *IRIS INTENSIFIES*)

(For real, what a trip these last two months have been. I'm feeling conflicted about it all. I could easily have published like five to seven fics in that time period, but no! Life gets in the way sometimes, and let's just say it gave me roadworks that stretched on for miles on end. I already told you about the flu/cough arc, and it's all in the past now. Like I said, college has started up for me, and this could be my final academic year before I have to deal with thesis/internship shit before eventually graduating, so I really am on borrowed time. I really should have used my time better when I was healthy, but it is what it is.)

(I really wish this was longer, considering the gap between the last fic. Writing these past two months has been hell, like I had writers' block on steroids, if that even is a thing. I fucking scrapped two fics, including one that was 7000 words in before I made the executive decision to restart the entire work from scratch. I don't know. I'm very perfectionist about the process. Writing is hard, man. Everyone's been killing it lately (including some incredible returns) and I don't know where my place belongs in this. But what matters is that you've been waiting for me and giving me best wishes during some really challenging times. With only four months left to go, let's finish the year on a high. Got nothing else meaningful to say, Yuri's KCON outfit is just really fucking hot. This would feel wrong if I didn't mention Box somewhere, so shoutout's to them XD Thank you for reading!)

[acutecoral]

Transcript for Quackity's recent stream

[Quackity start talking around 1:03 in, but before he speaks you can hear him breathe and sniffle a little]

Quackity: Hello everyone, uh…uh, I'm just waiting for enough people to get here. This is a very important stream. So I'm just going to wait a little bit.

Quackity: Um…[sharp intake of breath] Hello! I hope everyone is having a good night. I'm doing an urgent stream. Only to keep everyone updated on everything that's happening.

Quackity: I wanna apologise for this scuffed stream. I'm not on any of my set-ups right now, I wasn't expecting to stream right now so I don't even have a camera. But I wanna to let everyone know, that I've been out and I'm catching up on a lot of matters right now…

Quackity: Including a statement, that was just now, made without my approval.

Quackity: I've been notified, about an ongoing situation regarding Quackity Studios and I want to address it. Please bear with me as I'm barely catching up on a lot of these matters.

[He sniffles again]

Quackity: One gathering is that volunteers for Quackity Studios: are not being paid and are being given too many hours of activities.

Quackity: I wanna let everyone know that I was aware of a voluntary position, and I was under the assumption that there was a process volunteers would go through, to integrate themselves to the team with a fully paying job. What I was not aware of, is to what extent and conditions were being required from the volunteers.

Quackity: And I wanna thank everyone who brought this to my attention, because it is very clear to me that I need a much deeper involvement in the administrative part of my team. Something I have not been very involved with recently.

Quackity: I'm gonna perform a deep investigation, personally, on this matter as to see exactly what's happening. But one thing is very clear to me.

Quackity: There are going to be very drastic changes in QSMP moving forward. From the administrative perspective, and from the creative perspective as well.

Quackity: My responsibility relies on knowing what is happening in the project I am running. And for not being more involved? I want to deeply apologise. This should have never happened, and I am extremely disappointed.

Quackity: From here on out, I wanna make one thing clear: Everybody involved in Quackity Studios will be paid. And if at any point my own funds are not sufficient enough to pay workers or maintain the project? Then the QSMP cannot continue and it will close down. That's how committed I am to this project.

Quackity: So I wanted to make that extremely, extremely clear as to where I stand on this.

[Quackity in the next line sounds choked up]

Quackity: And this…n-next topic is very difficult for me to process, and it's an extremely sensitive thing, and I was waiting for the correct time for me but…that can wait, no longer. And I need to let everyone know that Wilbur is no longer a part of the QSMP.

Quackity: Lastly, I wanna thank everyone for their patience. This…year…has been very turbulent…for me. And I'm going to be very open; it's been one of the saddest years of my life.

Quackity: I'm trying to move forward and give everyone the best version of myself, and I'm very, very sorry if I've disappointed you.

Quackity: But…nonetheless, I gotta keep moving forward and I'm gonna keep working hard and I'm going to do what's right. And I wanna make this very clear.

Quackity: So thank you everyone. And um, yeah, I hope everyone has a good night. Thank you.

[fxllfaiiry]

─ callin' it quits now, baby, I'm a wreck ੈ✩‧₊˚

✶ pairing: miguel o'hara x fem!reader

✶ synopsis: the aftermath of the argument with miguel.

✶ warnings: angst, hurt with comfort, occ miguel (for one scene only dw), shitty humour, one or two swear words, reader being slightly mean, mentions of death.

✶ notes: part two of "you're the sunflower" this part was originally 8k words long and i was like nope, so i had to cut it down, I'm sorry. I really hope this isn't bad ‼️

At first, you didn't quit the team. 

After the blow-up with Miguel, you thought about leaving the team for good, but yet you decided to show up, hanging around for a bit before quickly leaving. 

But slowly you stopped showing up altogether. The looks of pity were too much for you to handle, and frankly, you deserve an apology, you deserved better.

Every day was torture, and seeing Miguel only made it worse. No one thought this whole ordeal would go this far. 

Everyone noticed the changes, you were more serious, and your usual sunshine self was gone at this point. Everyone noticed the day you stopped coming in. 

You felt so lonely, sure, you had friends in your universe but yet, nothing felt the same. You sometimes wondered if they missed you or not. 

It had only been a few weeks and yet it felt like months. 

A part of you secretly hoped someone from the team would show up at your doorstep pleading for you to come back, but nothing. 

"You'll get used to it eventually" You'd tell yourself. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

It had been two whole months since you left. Nothing felt the same without you. 

"Does anyone else miss Sunflower?" Gwen said sadly. She missed your hugs, and your little girl talks with her, she missed everything about you.  

"We all miss her, kid," Peter sighed. Without you, he had no one to talk to about Mayday. 

"I hope she comes back soon," Miles said. 

"I think she just wants space right now," Pavitr replied.  

"This is all Miguel's fault y'know?" Hobie added bitterly, how dare Miguel take his friend away from him. 

"Someone should talk to him, maybe if he apologizes, she'll come back." Miles was hopeful, he knew you'd come back eventually. 

"Sure, kid. As if Miguel ever listens." 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Miguel on the other hand was depressed. 

He'd gotten used to your presence and it felt odd without you.

He felt horrible about yelling at you but he was scared. The thought of you dying terrified him, and his way of dealing with that wasn't the best. 

He thought about apologizing many times, but he didn't know how to. The last thing he wanted was to cause more damage. 

"You know a simple "sorry" could fix this all right?" Lyla said, breaking him out of his trance. 

"It's not that easy, Lyla." He sounded so broken to his own ears. 

"Well, you gotta try, Boss." 

"Sunflower used to call me that." 

"You're joking, right? Wow, you really are pathetic." Lyla snorted. 

"What's that supposed to mean?" 

"Dude, you're in love with her. You are absolutely smitten." 

"Lyla, that's enough-" 

"No, you love her and that's why it's bothering you so much." 

"I don't-" 

"Nah, Lyla's right, you do love her." He turned around to see Jess standing in his office. 

"Jess, not you too, and where did you come from?" Miguel groaned, he did not love you. 

"The door…? Anyways, just try to fix things, the first step is you apologizing." Jess stated matter-of-factly. 

Miguel thought about it for a minute, these last few weeks had been pure torture for him, Jess was right, the first step is apologizing.

"Fine, I'll do it first thing tomorrow, but I don't love her." 

"Sure, whatever you say, man." Jess snickered. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

You got somewhat used to your new life. It was the same old plain routine every day. You tried to throw yourself into other things. Finding new hobbies, jobs, literally anything. 

But eventually, it all started to feel okay.

Things were finally starting to look good for you. 

You thought about the spider society way less and finally started living your life to the fullest. 

You were moving on. 

Crime fighting was easy today. You got to hang out with your friends and an old lady gave you a cheerio, which is something. 

You swung around the city for a bit, enjoying the view and temporary peace. 

Soon it was time for you to head back home. You climbed in through your bedroom window and quickly changed out of your suit, slipping into more comfortable clothing.  

When you went downstairs to get some food, you weren't expecting to see Miguel O'Hara sitting on your couch. 

"Holy shit, what are you doing here?" You scared him, because he jumped violently at the sound of your voice. 

"I was here t-"

"Humiliate me further? Because I thought we were done with that." You felt bad saying that, but he deserved it. 

"No, I'm here to apologize." He looked down, ashamed. 

"It's a bit late for that, isn't it?" You chuckled bitterly, walking past him into the kitchen. 

"Just listen to me for a second." 

"I thought I was incapable of doing that." You muttered to yourself. 

He got up and strode towards you, but he received no acknowledgment of his presence. 

"I'm sorry for yelling at you in front of everyone; it was wrong and I shouldn't have acted so immaturely." 

"Uh-huh, it's fine. You can leave now, the door's right there." You weren't buying his ridiculous apology. Even a five-year-old could do better. 

"I understand you're mad, but please give me a chance." That was pretty much the last straw for you.

"I'm mad? You humiliated me in front of everyone! You made me feel like shit, you made me think I don't belong on the team! You're an asshole." You were screaming at him, taking out all the anger and sadness you felt in the past two months.

"I'm sorry." He sounded so small, so vulnerable, and for the second time in his life, he didn't know what to do. 

"The best you can say is I'm sorry? At least give me a proper explanation." You scoffed, rolling your eyes. 

"I'm in love with you." What? 

"Right, if you're here to joke around and mock me just leave okay."  You open up to him and he mocks you in return. Amazing.

"I'm being serious. I'm not mocking you or joking around, I'm in love with you. You want an explanation, so I'm giving you one." He breathed, looking at you hoping to receive some reaction. All he got was a small head tilt which he took as a sign to continue. 

"The reason I yelled at you was because I was scared. I thought you were going to die and that terrified me, I've lost everything, and I don't want to lose you too. I didn't know how to handle it, so I lashed out. I truly am sorry, Sunflower." You froze trying to process everything, was he telling the truth? 

"Lyla and Jess helped me realize my true feelings for you." He whispered. 

When you said nothing for a few minutes he started to get scared, he was ready to get on his knees and beg for forgiveness if he had to. 

"Can you… say something? Please?"

"I can't forgive you just yet." He would never admit to what happened next but he started sobbing. All this was too much, being vulnerable was an unknown feeling to him. 

"Woah, wait hey, don't cry. Let me-" Before you could finish your sentence he fell to his knees, arms clutching your waist like a lifeline. 

You were beyond confused, you thought this whole interaction was some sort of weird dream. Miguel O'Hara down on his knees, for you? Wow, two months ago you would've scoffed and rolled your eyes at that. 

Nonetheless, you ran your fingers through his hair trying to soothe him. 

"Miguel, honey, listen to me. Just because I'm not ready to forgive you now, doesn't mean I never will." His face was still squished against your midriff, and his breathing was slowly returning to normal, with a few sniffs here and there. 

"So, you'll come back?" Seeing him in such a state broke your heart, you were still upset with him but were willing to give him a chance. 

"Yes, I'll come back tomorrow." At that, he smiled properly for the first time in weeks. 

He stayed there for a few moments, letting you comb through his hair gently, he would cherish this brief moment forever. 

"I should get going then. The multiverse needs saving." He said hoarsely, standing up, he was slightly embarrassed by this side of him. 

"Maybe use the door this time." He lightly chuckled at your statement, the warm feeling took over him once again.

Miguel did not want to leave, he wanted to stay here with you, but he knew that wasn't an option right now.

Before he left he had to get one last thing off his chest.

"Could you, not tel-" 

"Tell anyone about this? Don't worry, this stays between us only." 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Everyone was surprised to see you back the next day. 

The second you walked in, everyone was all over you, hugging you and filling you in on everything you missed. It felt good to be back. 

"I'm so happy you're back," Gwen whispered, hugging you tightly. 

"I'm happy to be back, Gwendy. I missed you guys so much." 

"Hey quit hogging Sunflower, it's my turn to hug her now." Miles huffed impatiently. 

"Me next!" Pavitr bounced enthusiastically. 

"Hey, not cool. I called dibs, man." Hobie groaned. 

"Hey, Sunflower, I have some new pictures of Mayday to show you." Everyone was so excited to see you again, it was chaotic, but it felt like home. They were your family. 

Miguel watched the scene from afar with a smile, he was glad everything was okay now. 

"So you fixed things up with her, huh?" Jess said, popping up behind him, once again taking him by surprise. 

"¡Ay, coño! Jess, stop doing that." 

"Sorry, not my fault you don't have a spidy sense." Jess hummed. "So, how did you get her to forgive you?" 

"I have my ways." 

"You got down on your knees and begged her, didn't you?"

"How did you know?" Miguel whisper-yelled. That was supposed to be a secret. 

"I have my ways." Jess winked. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── 

In a few weeks, everything was back to normal, you were back to your old self again. 

Except for the fact that you and Miguel were now closer than ever. That was new. 

You were always by his side, sticking close to him and he felt comfortable around you, always relaxed in your presence. 

He wasn't sure if you forgave him just yet, but he was willing to wait for as long as you needed. 

He did small things to show you he cared, sometimes it was bringing you coffee, other times it was giving you your favorite flowers. 

You knew he was sorry, and in your heart, you forgave him a long time back. 

So, you finally decided to tell him. 

You guys were in his office having lunch, he didn't like to eat out in the cafeteria. You both would usually sit in silence enjoying each other's company. 

"Hey, Miguel." 

"Hm?" 

"I forgive you." 

He raised his eyebrows in confusion taking a moment to realise what you meant. When he finally got it, his eyes widened almost comically. 

"Oh, you do?" He was trying to hide his smile but failed horribly. 

"I forgave you a long time back, but I just… needed some time." You nodded.  

"I understand that. Thank you for giving me another chance." 

"Actually, to forgive you fully, I want one thing from you." You declared, confidently. 

"I'll do anything, Sunflower." He'd indeed do anything for you. 

"I want you to go out on a date with me." 

His brain stopped working. You were asking him out on a date. 

"Miguel? Is that a yes or no?" You grew nervous at his lack of response. Did you cross boundaries? You thought he liked you. 

"I would love to." You quickly beamed at his response, after months of waiting it was finally happening. 

"So, how about tomorrow, at 7?" You giggled. 

"Sounds perfect." He sighed, softly smiling. 

He couldn't wait for tomorrow. 

[once-upon-an-imagine]

What Was I Made For? - James Potter

A/N: well, it looks like this keeps on working so... I hope you guys like it!

Anonymous asked: Request for hufflepuff black!reader x James with the prompt "Forget it. Just like you forget everything else." Where reader has never had a fun birthday celebration and usually ignores her birthday but James promises to do something fun for her and gets her hopes up but then stands her up accidentally (with happy ending please). Thanks so much &lt;;33

Warnings: this is super angsty! (and super long) but it has a happy ending; mentions of abuse and overall a not happy family life, reader feels weird for not really knowing how to express her feelings; let me know if I missed anything

Disclaimer: I don’t own Harry Potter :) gif isn’t mine :D  

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

What Was I Made For?

Think I forgot how to be happy Something I'm not, but something I can be Something I wait for, something I'm made for

12:08 a.m. Your birthday was over. And he didn’t come. Of course, he wouldn’t come. You kept looking at your watch feeling a tiny bit of hope that he would come running any second, apologizing for being late. But, deep down, you knew it wasn’t going to happen. You sighed, running a hand through your hair, and decided to finally leave. You were angry. But not at him. At yourself. You should have known better. You never should have trusted a word he said. Because he treated you as if you were the center of his universe. And you were stupid enough to believe him. Because that’s what James Potter did. He made you feel as if you were the only thing that mattered to him. Damn him and his stupid beautiful smile. The one that got you into this mess…

“You actually want me to believe that you need my help in Potions?” you insisted as he raised his hands in surrender while you pointed your wand at him. “Why are you asking me?”

“B-because you’re top of our class-”

“That’s not true. Severus Snape is” you insisted.

“First of all, I would never ask Snivelly for help” he rolled his eyes. “And secondly, I doubt that’s true since you are a year younger than us and are already taking Advance Potions-”

“So ask Lilly Evans then-?”

“Evans hates me-”

“So do I!”

“Wait, y-you do?” he asked, confused, stepping away from your wand. He sounded genuinely hurt.

“I…” you weren’t able to continue. You never really hated James Potter. You hated him because you were supposed to, weren’t you? “D-don’t you?”

“I don’t hate you” he informed you. “Why would I?”

“Because Sirius does! And you’re his best friend” you told him. James noticed the hurt in your voice and in your look. He knew you missed Sirius.

“Your brother doesn’t hate you” he insisted and you scoffed, looking away and lowering your wand. “He doesn’t!”

“Look, Potter, you don’t have to lie, okay?” you glared at him a little. “Isn’t your father a famous potioneer? Shouldn’t you be good at Potions?”

“Yeah, he is… you gotta love the irony, love” he smirked.

“Don’t call me that!” you glared at him. “What if Sirius finds out?”

“He won’t” he assured you. “And I honestly don’t think he would mind if he does” he tried.

“What’s in it for me?”

“Isn’t the loveliness of my company enough, love?” he asked but he saw you raising your wand at him and he put up his hands in surrender. “Fine… what do you want?”

You thought about it for a moment. Nobody had ever asked you what you wanted. Not really. You were always just told what to do. And then, you thought of the one thing you had always wanted but could never do.

“Um… if I tell you… do you promise not to tell anyone? Or um… laugh at me?” you said, feeling your cheeks burn as you looked down. James had to admit, he had never seen you like this. You always looked so confident, like everyone else in the Black family.

“I promise” he said, making you sigh.

“W-would you teach me um… how to uh- f-fly?” you asked in a small voice, James wasn’t sure if he heard you correctly.

“Um… didn’t you learn how to fly in your first year?” he asked, confused.

“Look, it’s a long story. Are you in or not?” you asked, going back to your usual self and James let out a small chuckle.

“Fine. It’s a deal. You teach me Potions, I teach you to fly” he said, putting his hand so you would shake it. Which you did, pulling him closer.

“And Sirius is not to find about this, is that clear?”

“Perfect.”

And that’s what it was. Perfect. For the following months, you and James spent a lot of time together. In the beginning, you found him incredibly obnoxious since he kept trying to become your friend. Which he quickly managed. You let your guard down and found yourself actually liking his company. And then, it grew into more. You never thought it could happen, but it did. He had somehow become your favorite person. Granted, not many people talked to you so, it wasn’t hard. But if there was a word you would use to describe James Potter was, enchanting. And you quickly fell for him. And you hated it. Because now, here you were. Tired, hungry, alone, and upset. You made your way to the Kitchens, hoping that you could at least get some leftovers from the Elves.

“Miss Black” one of them greeted you happily. “We thought you weren’t going to make it” he said, making you frown in confusion.

“M-make it? What do you mean, Blim?” you asked, confused as two other elves carried a basket your way.

“Mr. Potter asked us to save this for him but he never came” he explained, confused. “Said it was really important for Miss Black’s birthday” he instructed as they handed you the basket. You felt yourself smiling a little but quickly wiped it away. He never came.

“Thank you so much, Blim” you told him.

“You’re welcome. Happy birthday, Miss Black” he said, as they waved you goodbye. You thanked them happily, after all, they were the only ones that had wished you a happy birthday, and then you made your way to your dorm.

“Hi, Ophelia” you greeted your beautiful black cat.

At least she showed up for your birthday. You changed into your pajamas, played some of your favorite music on your record player, and sat on the small seat you had created against your window to go through the picnic basket only to find your favorite food. He’d remember. Everything was perfect, even the cake. Except, he hadn’t been there. He promised he would and you believed him. You knew Gryffindor played today. You knew they won. But he promised. And you believed him.

But again, it was your fault, really. You should have never let him in. You should have never told him what your favorite food was. Or why you didn’t know how to fly. Or that nobody in your house wanted to share a dorm with you anymore. You shouldn’t even have told him that today was your birthday. Well, yesterday. Because you now understood what he felt for you. It was pity. It wasn’t love.

“Alright, are you ready?” he asked, holding up the broom.

“Actually… I’m having second thoughts about this. I don’t want to do it” you said, nervously.

“Come on, love. I promise you’re gonna love it” he insisted.

You had grown accustomed to him calling you love by now. No matter how much you begged him, he wouldn’t stop. And no matter how much you tried to deny it, you were starting to like it.

“B-but what if I fall?” you asked, making him smile at you adorably and grabbing your hand.

“I promise I would never let that happen” he said sincerely. “But… we don’t have to do this today if you don’t want to” he assured you.

“No, it’s okay” you said, unconvincingly. “I just… need a minute” you told him, sitting down on the grass of the Quidditch pitch.

“Look, I know you’ve told me not to ask why you didn’t learn to fly sooner so…” he said, sitting down next to you. “May I ask why you want to learn now? Why is it so important to you?”

“I don’t know” you said, quietly as you started playing with the grass next to you. “My mother has told me not to my whole life” you informed him. “She always said it wasn’t for ladies” you said, bitterly. “On my first year, she sent an owl saying that she may not be able to control which house her disappointing daughter was sorted into but I was not to ride a broom, and well… you know nobody wants to go against Walburga Black” you said with a sad chuckle. “I always wanted to learn because Siri and Reggie- um… Sirius and Regulus both know how to and they love it” you continued. “I guess I wanted to have something in common with them” you smiled sadly. “Are you… are you crying?”

“I’m sorry” he said, wiping away the few tears on his cheeks. “That was just… um, w-well, every story Padfoot tells me from your home it’s just…”

“Sad, I know” you said as James composed himself. “You can say it” you told him.

“Is it… as bad for you as it is for Sirius?” he asked, worriedly.

“A little” you admitted. “At least Sirius has you, Remus, and Peter” you smiled a little.

“You have me too” he said, placing your hand on top of yours and making you look up at him. “You know that, right?” he asked, feeling his heart beating faster when your smile got bigger.

“You’re sweet, James” you said, surprising him a little. “What?”

“I think that’s the first time you call me by my first name” he smiled.

“Oh, s-sorry, um-”

“No, no” he chuckled. “I liked it” he assured you. “I um… I like you” he said, feeling his cheeks blushing.

“Y-you do?” you asked, breaking James' heart at how genuine your question sounded. As if you were actually confused as to why someone would like you.

“Of course, I do” he said, cupping your cheek gently.

“A-are you about to kiss me?” you whispered.

“Is that okay?” he asked sweetly and you nodded smiling before James gently pressed his lips against yours.

You had no idea what you were feeling. Your entire body felt as if fireworks were exploding everywhere. Never, in a million years would you have thought that kissing James Potter would feel so perfect, but now that you knew, you never wanted to stop.

“Alright. I think I’m ready” you said once you pulled apart. James smile at you and got up, offering you his hand to help you. “Y-you promise I won’t fall, right?”

“Promise, love” he said, pulling you closer and kissing your hand.

Lies. From that moment. You never should have fallen for him. How could you have been so stupid? James may have been right, every story from your childhood was extremely unhappy, but you had never felt so empty inside. Having a best friend who then turned into something more and you were sure that you felt was something that you had never felt before, and now it was gone.

You hoped listening to sad songs would help you cry but your eyes seemed dry. You felt the pain in your heart, which was weird. You never felt that before. But you thought you might as well cry. James said it might help whenever you felt upset. But it ended up being him who cried. And not you. So, you were about to just go to bed, when you heard someone knocking loudly on your door. At 1:47 in the morning. You sighed, rolling your eyes, and quickly ran over to open the door, revealing nobody on the other side.

“James, what the bloody hell are you doing? You’re going to wake up my entire house!” you said, pulling him inside and closing the door as he removed the cloak around him.

“I’m sorry, love! I am so sorry I’m late! I swear I lost track of time!” he slurred out.

He was drunk. Really drunk. He was still in his Quidditch robes, drunk out of his mind.

“Potter, you’re-”

“No, no, no! Please don’t call me Potter” he said, walking closer to you and grabbing your hands. “You only call me that when you’re mad” he pouted. “I know I screwed up but I promise I will make it up to you, love!”

“James, you’re drunk-”

“I know! There was a party because we won and I swear I was just going to be there for a few minutes b-because I’m the captain a-and I just lost track of time and-”

“You should leave” you said, quietly, avoiding his eyes. You knew you would cave if you looked into his beautiful doe-eyed face. And you had made up your mind.

“No, no, sweetheart, please I want to make it up to you. Please give me a chance!”

“You are drunk right now-”

“I know, I know. I’m sorry” he insisted. “I can- I just need to-”

“James, please. I’m tired and you’re drunk. Just go to bed” you said, firmly. “We can talk tomorrow if you want to” you told him.

“I don’t want you to be alone” he said, his eyes tearing up. “It’s your birthday!”

“It’s no longer my birthday so… you can go” you said, getting upset.

“I don’t want to leave you” he said, getting closer to you and cupping your cheek softly, making you look at him. “Please, love. I am so sorry” he said. “Please talk to me, just tell me how I can make this right. You can yell at me! You can throw things, I deserve it-”

“James, I don’t want to yell at you” you said, sighing tiredly. “I just want to go to sleep” you told him.

“I don’t want to leave you, love” he said, with a few tears escaping his eyes and bringing you closer. He was about to kiss you and you smelled the Firewhisky in his breath so you pulled away and he kissed your forehead instead.

“Fine” you sighed. “Y-you can stay but I’m tired, I just want to go to sleep” you gave in.

“Okay” James said, feeling his eyes welling up. He couldn’t believe he had failed you. Just like everyone else in your life. He fucked up. He slowly walked over to your bed and sat down. “Is… this okay?” he asked nervously.

“Sure” you said, sounding exhausted.

You threw yourself on your bed, turning your back to him and James quickly climbed next to you. You instantly felt his arm wrap around your waist, pulling you to him. You sighed deeply, preparing yourself for what was to come. You were going to miss him. You knew that much. You hated how used you had become to him. How regular it just seemed for him to show up and spend the night with you. So, you took it in. His scent, his touch, everything about him because you knew it would be gone by tomorrow.

“I’m really sorry, love” you heard him say before he kissed the back of your head.

“Just… go to sleep, James” you whispered back and it wasn’t long before you heard his snores.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

The next morning, James woke up to an empty bed, and the realization of the night before quickly came flooding back into his mind. He quickly sat up and saw you on your desk, writing on some parchment.

“Um- w-what time is it?” were the first words that came out of his mouth and he cursed himself. He was beyond stupid.

“It’s still early” you replied as you continued doing whatever it was you were doing. “If you hurry, you can still go to breakfast before your friends wonder where you are” you said, quietly.

“N-no. I don’t want to go to breakfast” he said, walking over to you. “I want to apologize and talk to you” he said, looking down at the parchment you were working on. “W-what’s that?”

You finished writing and stood up, handing the piece of parchment to him with a serious expression on your face.

“A list of people who are not Severus Snape that can tutor you in potions” you simply said, trying to make your way to your window seat.

“W-what?” he panicked.

“I have your things here” you said, handing him a box with his things. “Oh” you said, realizing you were wearing his sweater so you quickly took it off and placed it on top of his things. “Sorry” you said, and you felt like you were freezing.

“Wait, you’re- you’re breaking up with me?” James asked, placing everything aside and walking closer to you. “Please, just… hold on a second. I promise I can explain-”

“James” you said, taking a step back. It unnerved James how calmly you were talking to him. Like you did in the beginning. Like your walls were up again and he meant nothing more than a stranger to you. “I just don’t think that this is working” you said, silently.

“Please, don’t do this, love! I swear I want to make it up to you” he said as a few tears started falling down his cheeks.

“Why are you crying?”

“Because I love you!” he shouted a bit louder than he intended to. “I know I fucked up and I am so sorry! But please, love, just give me another chance, I swear I didn’t mean to miss it-”

“That doesn’t matter, James-”

“Yes, it does! I know you’re angry, and you have every right to be, I understand that! But this is a fight, I- I can make it up to you and w-we can go back to the way it was-”

“Why would we do that?” you asked, confused.

“Because that’s what couples do!” he insisted.

“We’re not a couple, James” you said, sounding broken.

“Yes, we are!”

“No, we’re not. You never asked me to be your girlfriend. We’ve never gone out on a date. You barely talk to me outside these walls-”

“You said you didn’t want Sirius to know about us! I told you I didn’t care!”

“That doesn’t make a difference, James!”

“Yes, it does! Because I love you!”

“No, you don't!”

“Yes, I do! I love you so much and I know you love me too!”

“Okay, now you’re just being ridiculous, Potter” you said, with a sarcastic chuckle as you tried to walk into your bathroom but James blocked your way.

“No, I’m not!” he said, softly as you tried to look away. He gently cupped your cheek with his big, strong hand and slowly lifted your face so you could see him. Not even a sign of tears while his eyes were flooded. “Tell me you don’t” he said, quietly.

“E-excuse me?” you asked, confused.

“Tell me you don’t love me” he said. “I know you’ve never said that you love me but whenever I tell you that I do, you smile and you kiss me! You’ve never said that you don’t! So, tell me you don’t love me” he insisted.

“James!”

“No! If you want to break up with me, at least talk to me first! You at least have to tell me how you feel about me!” he argued.

“You wanna know how I feel about you?” you snapped pushing yourself away from him.

“Yes!”

“You really want to know how you make me feel?” you said, getting upset.

“Yes!”

“I have no idea how you make me feel, James!” you snapped, breaking James’ heart. “Y-you make me feel happy and angry, and scared, and sad, and crazy, and warm, and vulnerable, and like I can break at any moment, but I somehow know that I won’t because you won’t let that happen but then I feel so lost if you’re not there! And I feel weak and confused, and-” enchanted. “And, alive and like I can float, and sure but unsure at the same time, and like I can be myself and I want to try to be a better person but it wouldn’t matter because you still look at me with that stupid grin! And- and-” you said, trying to take deep breaths. “I don’t know! It’s just a lot all at once and I don’t know how to handle it and I don’t like it!” you said, trying to catch your breath. “I don’t like it, James!”

“Okay, okay!” James said, quickly walking over to you and placing his hands on each side of your face. “Breathe, love, please” he said quietly, as you slowly tried to catch your breath and stop shaking. James was now fully weeping but a small smile formed on his face. “Sweetheart” he said, quietly. “That’s love” he told you.

“W-what?”

“What you’re feeling” he explained. “That’s love” he insisted.

“How do you know that?” you asked, confused.

“Because that’s exactly how I feel about you” he said as you managed to even your breathing again.

“I don’t like feeling scared” you whispered.

“I know, love” he smiled. “I know, and I’m scared too-”

“Then why would you still want to be with me?”

“Because I love you” he repeated. “And… you’ve made me the happiest I’ve been and I know that I fucked up yesterday, I do, but I promise I will make it up to you and, if you let me, I will spend the rest of my life making you as happy as you make me, love” he said in a serious tone.

You took a deep breath. You wanted to. You really did. You wanted to know what was on the other side and if you could live a ‘happily ever after’ that you read in so many stories when you were a kid. But this was real life. And you couldn’t break James Potter like you broke everything else you touched.

“No, James” you said, pushing away from him.

“B-but-” he tried but you walked away, going to your bathroom.

“Please, James. Just… forget it. Like you forget everything else" you said sadly before you walked inside, locking the door and your heart broke when you still heard him cry.

James turned to look at the box you left with all of his things. He couldn’t bring himself to take it. He needed to make things right. He walked out of your dorm and your house and made his way over to the Gryffindor Tower, not even caring about breakfast. He plopped himself on the furthest sofa, and after a while, he heard giggling and a group of girls walking over to him.

“Hey, Potter” Marlene asked. It wasn’t usual to see him without his three friends and his energy was entirely different today. “You okay?”

“Um… can I ask you, girls, something?” he said as Marlene, Dorcas, Lily, and Alice sat around him. “I would ask my friends but… in this particular subject they all are just… useless” he chuckled sadly.

“Is it about a girl?” Alice asked.

“Well… yeah” he admitted.

“Oh, Merlin it is! Who is it?” Dorcas asked, excitedly.

“I can’t… say it out loud, Sirius can’t know!”

“He’s your best friend, why can’t he know?”

“Because it’s his sister” Lily smirked.

“What?” the other three reacted shocked.

“How did you know?” James asked, confused.

“I’ve seen you in Potions” she shrugged. “You two are cute together” she smiled. “So, what happened?”

“Well, we had been seeing each other for a while now and yesterday was her birthday and I promised her that we would do something and I had this whole picnic planned in the Astronomy tower but… I lost track of time and-”

“No!” Alice said, her smile dropping.

“You didn’t!” Dorcas frowned.

“You forgot?” Marlene asked, slapping his arm.

“I didn’t mean to! We were playing with our secondary team because we had so many hurt players, I didn’t think we would win! And then we did and I started drinking and I just lost track of time!”

“You are unbelievable potter!” Marlene glared at him.

“I want to make things right! I love her and I’m pretty sure she loves me to-”

“Pretty sure?” Alice asked with an arched eyebrow.

“W-well, she hasn’t said it, exactly, but I know she feels it” he insisted. “Look, this is the first time I’ve felt like this in my life and I know that I fucked up but… I also know she’s scared and it just… I want to make things right” he insisted.

The four girls shared looks amongst themselves before they went back to James and Lily nodded.

“Alright, we’ll help you” she agreed.

“Really?”

“Yes, but only because she has looked happier lately, and you seem to actually be sorry. But if you fuck this up again, Potter-” Dorcas threatened.

“I know, I swear, I won’t!” he told them.

“Alright, then” Alice smirked.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

“What are you doing here?”

“For fuck’s sake!” you jumped, falling down the stairs you were on and landing on the floor. “Sirius!” you said, getting up. “What the bloody hell are you doing here?” you glared at your older brother.

“I asked first” he shrugged.

“None of your business” you said, rolling your eyes. “You?”

“Same” he said.

“Fine. This has been lovely, then” you said, trying to walk out of the class but Sirius stopped you.

“Okay, no! Wait!” he said, grabbing your arm and turning you around. “I was… looking for you” he admitted.

“If you’re planning on stealing my Potions essay, I haven’t finished it yet-”

“No, that’s not it” he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I… wanted to… um… talk to you” he said, awkwardly.

“Why?” you asked, genuinely confused.

“Well, there are… a few things I wanted to tell you” he admitted. “If um… you’d like to come with me to the… Lake or something” he said.

“Well, since you asked so normally” you said, still confused. But this was the first time that Sirius talked to you in so long, you really didn’t want to take it for granted, so you followed him. Once you reached to the Great Lake he sat down near a tree and pointed his side so you would join him. “So… did you bring me here to kill me or-”

“Shut up” he said with a faint chuckle. He then looked inside his bag and got out a small present. “Here” he said, handing it to you. “Um… happy birthday” he said quietly. You raised your eyebrow at him before grabbing the gift.

“Is this thing going to catch fire or something?”

“No!” he argued. But he couldn’t really blame you for thinking that. “No, I promise, I just… I know I’m a day late-”

“You’re about six years late but, alright” you said a bit harshly.

“I guess I deserve that” he muttered as you opened your present and you saw all of your favorite candy from Honeydukes. “I… wanted to say that… I’m sorry” he said.

“Um… why?”

“What do you mean why? For shutting you and Regulus out when I got sorted into Gryffindor and then… still not reaching out to you when you were sorted in Hufflepuff-”

“No, I know but… I mean… why now? Do you need something? Are you dying? Am I dying?”

“Stop it, bug!” he said, rolling his eyes and then looking at you when he realized what he had just called you. You felt your heart stopping for a moment.

“You… you haven’t called me that in a very long time” you said, feeling warmth in your heart. Once you thought was absolutely gone.

“I know… I’m sorry, if you’re not okay with it-”

“It’s okay” you quickly said. “I… kind of missed it” you admitted, looking away.

“You used to hate it” he chuckled.

“Yeah, I know but… once it was gone…” you sighed.

“We’re both really bad at this, aren’t we?” he laughed a little and, to his surprise, you did too.

“We definitely are the worst at feelings” you admitted. “Why are you apologizing to me now?” you asked curiously.

“A couple of reasons” he said. “I miss you” he admitted and you glared at him a little. “I really do!” he insisted. “Look, I get that we are awful at feelings and all that but… I’ve kind of been working on it and… I just… I want a relationship with my little sister” he said genuinely.

“Those are big words, Sirius” you chuckled. “What do you even know about relationships?”

“Well… I’m… currently in one” he said, looking away.

“You are?” you asked, a bit shocked and he nodded. “Wow, who’s the unlucky girl?”

Sirius let out a scoff, glaring at you. “Actually… it’s not a girl” he corrected.

“Is it Lupin?” you asked as Sirius widened his eyes in surprise.

“How did you know?”

“Well, it’s pretty obvious, you sink a deeper level of idiot whenever you’re around him” you informed him.

“That’s not true!”

“Yes, it is. Last week you knocked down your cauldron and three others when he laughed” you pointed out.

“That was… an accident” he tried to defend himself.

“Sure, it was” you said sarcastically.

“So… what do you think?” he asked, nervously.

“Why would you care what I think?”

“Well, you’re my sister, and… you’re also… the first person I’ve told” he admitted.

“Really?”

“Y-yeah” he said with a nervous smile.

“Well, if I’m being completely honest… I think Remus can do a lot better than you” you said with a smirk, making Sirius push you a little and glare at you.

“That’s not funny” he argued.

“I wasn’t joking” you said. “Is he… the one that’s making you get in touch with your feelings?”

“Kinda” he admitted. “You know, he and James grew up in a functional home, and… they know how to feel like a normal person” he informed you. “So… a few months ago, I was where you are right now” he added.

“What are you talking about?” you asked, nervously.

“I’m talking about you and Prongs and how you are afraid of being in a relationship with him” he said, casually.

“W-what? D-did James say-?”

“He didn’t say anything, but he’s a terrible liar” he shrugged. “I’ve known for a while and… to be honest, I have never seen him as happy as he is with you” he told you. “And… I have never seen him as miserable as today” he added. “So, I knew you were probably feeling worse, but… had no idea how to express it” he told you.

“How would you even know that?”

“Because you’re just like me” he told you. “A few months ago, Remus and I had our first fight. He told me that he loved me and… I kind of ran away” he said. “We didn’t speak for about three days. I was in such a bad mood, even I didn’t want to deal with myself” he explained. “Look, I know that we are wired differently than everyone else because mum and dad didn’t exactly teach us how to… feel or… love” he continued. “So, when someone does, it feels-”

“Fucking weird” you added.

“Yeah” he agreed. “But… that doesn’t mean that we can’t, you know that, right? And it doesn’t mean we don’t deserve it, bug” he told you. “I know I screwed up on my part and I am really sorry for pushing you away-”

“Why did you do it?” you asked all of the sudden. “I get that you were angry when you came back home from your first year but… Regulus and I never thought any different from you and you… shut us down” you said, sadly. “And then… the next year, when I was sorted into Hufflepuff, I thought maybe-”

“I know! I should have talked to you, I know, I was an idiot!” he said, genuinely. “Remus has made me talk about it a lot lately and… I want to make things right” he sighed. “You don’t have to forgive me if you don’t want to and I don’t expect you to do it right away if you do, I just… had to start somewhere” he smiled, hopeful.

“By giving me candy and saying happy birthday a day later?” you smirked a little. “It’s a good start, I guess” you nodded, grabbing a Sugar Quill and giving him one.

“Well, I also… wanted to help you fix things with Prongs” he suggested.

“Because you love James so much now that you are an expert on feelings and don’t want to see him sad?”

“Well… sort of, but… I love you too, bug” he said, making you almost choke on your sweet. You were pretty sure he had never said that before. “I know, we don’t really say that to each other or anyone else. Remus was the first person I ever said it to. It feels good, you should try it” he continued. “I know you love James-”

“How could you possibly know that? Even I don’t know that!”

“I think that you do and that’s why you’re so scared” he told you. “And I know I’m probably the last person that should be telling you this but… there’s nothing wrong with that” he assured you.

“It’s just…” you sighed. “W-what if he realizes how broken I am and he doesn’t want to be anymore?” you asked, sadly, breaking Sirius’ heart a little. “Or if I end up breaking him?”

“Bug, you’re not that broken-”

“Really? Do you want to know what I was doing in Potions class? I was looking for something that would make me cry” you explained.

“Really?”

“Yes, James cries all the time, did you know that?”

“Yeah, he cried when Moony and I told him we were dating” Sirius laughed.

“I feel empty without him, Sirius, and yet… not a single tear!”

“Well, that doesn’t mean you’re broken” Sirius insisted. “We never cry” he continued. “Blacks don’t cry” you both said at the same time, letting out a small laugh. “We’ll get there, bug” he said, pulling you to him and kissing the side of your head.

“We?” you asked, a little confused.

“Oh yeah, now that you have accepted me back into your life I’m not leaving-”

“Can I reconsider this-?”

“Nope, it’s too late! We’re going to be best friends, bug!”

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

You had surprisingly spent the rest of the day with Sirius, and Remus had joined at some point. They took you to Hogsmeade as Remus insisted on at least taking you out for your birthday. You liked Remus, and you could see that he definitely brought out the best in your brother. They seemed very in love. And at some point, it dawned on you. You were in love with James. He had been right. What you felt for him, was love. You were still terrified but you had made up your mind to talk to him the next day. Remus and Sirius even said the four of you could go to Hogsmeade together. This was definitely the craziest thing you had ever gone through in your life. But you were done feeling sorry for your self and you were done being afraid. You definitely did not want to spend the rest of your life like your parents. Feeling nothing and being unhappy. So, you would talk to James and try to be happy for once. However, when you opened your dorm’s door, you saw that he had already gone ahead of you.

Your mouth dropped when you saw the scene in front of you. Your dorm was decorated with beautiful fairy lights above, like floating stars, and candles and flowers everywhere. James was in the corner, finishing putting some flowers next to your bed.

“James?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, love- I uh-” he stuttered, walking closer to you. “Um, I know you told me to f-forget about it but…” he sighed, offering you the last flower in his hand. “I don’t want to” he chuckled. “I don’t want to forget about it and… I don’t want to forget about you” he explained. “Love, I know that I majorly fucked up” he continued. “And you have every right to hate me and never forgive me if you want to but… I wanted to give you the birthday that I had planned for you first. The birthday that you deserved before I royally fucked it up” he said, grabbing the picnic basket on your window seat.

“Did you ask the elves to do the whole meal again?”

“N-no” he assured you. “Um… I did it myself” he said, making your heart flutter a little. “Granted, I… uh, I don’t think it’s going to be as good” he chuckled. “So, we don’t have to eat it if you don’t want to” he assured you before he placed the basket back down. “I um… I also didn’t get to give you your present” he said, grabbing a bag on your nightstand.

“You-” you felt something weird happening. “You got me a present?”

“Of course, I got you a present, love” James smiled sweetly. “Would you like to open it? Or we can eat first if you’d like. Or you can eat. And I can leave if you prefer-”

Before he could go on, you quickly grabbed the bag from him. James smiled to himself at how excited you looked, opening your gift. And then, you pulled it out. A book. And a stuffed rabbit. An exact rabbit like the one in the book. Wearing a small knitted cardigan with Gryffindor colors. Just like the one James had given you.

“What-?” you tried to catch your breath. “H-how did you-?”

“The sweater comes off” he smiled. “I asked my mum to make it, I thought it would look cute because you like mine so much” he explained.

“N-no, how um- how did you know-?”

“You told me, remember?” he frowned, confused. “How when you were a kid, and your mum took you and your brothers to Diagon Alley and you ran off and got lost and ended up in a muggle library” he continued. “And you read that book and you always wanted a rabbit like that one-”

“Y-you remember that?” you asked, in complete disbelief.

You told him that story so long ago. You remember it perfectly. It was the first night he stayed in your dorm and you ended up talking all night. You had no idea he would remember it. It felt like forever ago.

“Of course, love” he said as if it was obvious.

Before either one of you could say anything else, you threw your arms around James’ shoulders and you planted a big kiss on his lips. James widened his eyes in surprise a little before he closed them and wrapped one of his arms around your waist and he placed his other hand on your cheek.

“This is…” you sighed when you pulled apart and you looked down at your rabbit. “This is the nicest thing anybody’s ever done for me” you chuckled.

"Um... I also wanted to ask if... you would like to be my girlfriend?" he said, nervously.

"I would really like that" you nodded.

“Wait, are you… are you crying?” James asked, brushing a few tears with his thumb.

“A-am I?” you asked as a smile appeared on your face. You brought your hand up to your face and you saw that it was, in fact, covered in tears. “I’m crying!” you chuckled as you noticed James’ eyes welling up as they usually did. “James, I’m crying!”

“I can see that, love” he smiled brightly at you. “I’m really sorry I forgot your birthday” he said, pulling you closer.

“It’s okay” you assured him. “You cooked for me” you said with a small laugh.

“I also apologize for that. I have no idea what I was doing” he warned you.

“It can’t be that bad” you assured him. “Would you like to join me?”

“R-really?”

You nodded, grabbing his hand and pulling him towards your window. You sat down as James pulled out the food, smiling when he saw you playing with your rabbit’s ear and going through the pages of your book. He had never seen you smile like this. And he promised to himself that he would do anything he can to keep that smile placed there.

“James?”

“Yes, love?”

“Um… please don’t cry when I say this but… uh, you were right… earlier today” you said, nervously before you cleared your throat and you looked at him. “I love you” you admitted, feeling an enormous weight off your shoulders. And of course, James’ tears quickly ran down his cheeks.

“Y-you do?” he asked with a sweet smile and you nodded.

“I’m sorry it took me so long to say it” you said, nervously. “I just… well, y-you know Sirius and I don’t really- um… I was just… scared because we were sort of instructed to… not really feel anything and I just… didn’t want to screw things up with you because you are very in touch with your emotions and I’m a bit broken that way-”

“You’re not broken, love” he insisted, holding your hand in his. “I wish you could see yourself as I see you. Because you’re perfect” he said, making you smile a little. “And I love you so much” he said, pulling you for another kiss and he felt your smile against his lips. “Say it again” he asked when you pulled away.

“James-”

“Please” he pouted, making you laugh and roll your eyes a little.

“I love you” you said, making him throw his arms around you and pulled you to him, peppering your face with kisses as he heard you laugh, which was his favorite music.

“I love you too!”

The End

[Bonus Scene The Next Day at The Three Broomsticks...]

"Sirius... are you crying?" Remus asked his boyfriend.

"It's just so beautiful" he said, wiping his tears as you rested your head against James' shoulder. "How Prongs set everything up for her birthday after he forgot and he got her that cute rabbit" he said, while Remus chuckled and hugged him and he looked at James.

"You kind of opened the gate for Blacks to cry, you know that right?"

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

A/N: I really love how this turned out so I hope you liked it too! xD let me know what you think! Remus is coming next and then Sirius!

[talesofesther]

first in my heart

Astarion Ancunin x Reader

Summary: Astarion hasn't seen his own face in 200 years and this bothers you deeply. You find a solution to finally show him how you see him, yet it leads to much more than simply that.

A/N: Gotta thank my sweet @iamnicodemus for encouraging me to write this. Undoubtedly one of the sweetest things I've ever written.

Word count: 4,7k

Masterlist

"I've never even seen this face. Not since it grew fangs and my eyes turned red."

It was something that lurked in the corners of your mind, those words of his. No matter how many days passed, you couldn't shake them off. It saddened you deeply. Each new passing mention about the last two centuries of Astarion's life drove a knife into your heart and twisted bitterly.

To the naked eye, it was imperceptible, never there. Even now, as you sat around the warm bonfire, watching as the pale elf bickered halfheartedly with Gale, he seemed as ordinary as your group of misfits could be. His smile loose, adorning those sharp fangs you'd become quite familiar with; silver hair curling delicately around pointy ears; deep red eyes reflecting the fire embers with a unique shine whenever he'd steal glances at you. He was the embodiment of lightheartedness and witty remarks, eccentric, unbothered, and with a quick tongue for anything.

And yet, he wasn't, not always. You felt secretly privileged, in a way, to be able to see the real him—to be allowed to. To hold him close when he wakes up gasping for air he didn't quite need and with watery eyes in the dead of the night; to softly kiss each and every scar on his back, whispering promises of love where before he had only known pain; to remind him again and again of his worth.

Astarion had a side to him you were slowly uncovering; you think, that he himself is only now uncovering as well. Vulnerable and fragile, broken but not beyond repair, yearning to be cradled by gentle hands.

He deserves to be mended, you know it in your heart. To get back what was taken from him. And you wanted to help, if only a little.

Earlier today as you ventured through Baldur's Gate, you stumbled upon a discarded sketchbook. It was a little dirty and a little worn, but it was still very much usable. Amidst your—many—questionably valuable loot, you knew you had a few good pencils to spare too.

It's been long since you picked up some paper and let your mind run free—before your whole adventure, to be precise. Maybe you'd be a little rusty around the edges and it would take a few tries to get him close to perfect, but you had time; or, you'd make time. He deserved as much.

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The lines that made him him came almost like second nature to you, maybe because you'd traced those same features with your fingertips countless times before within these last weeks. Ever since he admitted he'd fallen for you beyond his plans of seducing you, things had been easier, lighter. He allowed himself to be cherished and you were more than happy to do so.

A faint smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you created curly strands of his hair with your pencil. Delicate and precise, even for the mess that was his curls.

The sky bathed in shades of orange, pink, and baby blue as the sun lowered in the distance. The camp was as lively as it usually was during the evenings. Karlach was playing fetch with Scratch and the Owlbear cub, the latter who was mostly just running around aimlessly. Gale and Wyll were hunched over the fire doing something you could only hope wouldn't end in mild disaster. Lae'zel sharpened her blades, a scratching sound piercing your ears from afar. Shadowheart looked to be in deep conversation with Astarion, to which the vampire gestured wildly as he apparently tried to make a point.

You never expected that your unfortunate encounter with a mind flayer would give you a makeshift family, but you were thankful that it did. For better or worse, you were all in this together, and that was comfort and motivation enough.

With the strangely soothing sounds of laughter and bickering, you turned your attention back to your sketchbook. Going back one page, you had already finished a rough sketch of Astarion's profile, focused on the contrast of his sharp nose and soft curls. Now, on the next page, you were working on a more elaborate portrayal of his features, depicting a look he often wore when you sauntered over to him; the faint smile on his lips that had grown all the softer ever since you first met; the gentle tilt of his head as his eyebrows scrunched expectantly; the sharp and alluring eyes who could pierce into your soul.

"What are you up to, my sweet?"

The sudden honey-coated voice startled you, you jumped slightly on your seat and hastily covered the pages on your lap with your forearms.

The elf himself stood only a few feet in front of you, his lips pursed and an eyebrow raised in curiosity as he tried to peek past your arms.

You chuckled timidly, "Nothing, I was just- just resting a bit." Shrugging nonchalantly as you smiled.

Astarion narrowed his eyes at you but didn't push it, he never did. "Gale is trying to make us something to eat with what he got from the vendors today," he gestured behind himself and to the fire where Gale stood in front of, "I wouldn't be the first to try it out if I were you but I'm dying to know everyone's opinion on it." A sly smirk got his fangs poking out, "bonus points if someone vomits it out."

You shot him an amused look, biting back a laugh. You never quite got why he had this little rivalry with Gale—besides the fact he wasn't overly fond of Gale's flirting attempts with you in the beginning, but that had long since subsided. To be honest, you think it's more routine than anything else at this point, for show and amusement; a friendly rivalry.

Slightly cold fingertips caught hold of your chin when you didn't answer, his thumb pressing against the corner of your mouth as Astarion held you. "Do join me, will you?"

The smile you still wore shifted into something sweeter, reserved only for him. And you leaned into his touch, closing your eyes momentarily. "I will… in a moment."

Astarion blinked at your briefly evasive answer, but nodded anyway, "I'll… be waiting."

He walked away, slow steps taking him towards the commotion around the campfire. You felt a little bad for denying him company right away, but it was for a good cause, you had to follow your streak of inspiration if you wanted to finish the drawing to the best of your abilities.

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Dinner proved to be pleasant, tasty even, for Gale's culinary standards. This time of day had to be one of your favorites, with everyone sitting together around the fire at night and forgetting about life's misfortunes for a moment.

You sat by a rock, leaning your back against it as your shoulders shook with laughter at one of Halsin's stories. Astarion had plopped down by your side not long ago, the weight of his shoulder resting against yours as comforting as it always was. He took just a while longer to take your hand in his tonight, cold fingers hooking around yours and squeezing as he brought your joined hands to rest on his thigh.

Everything felt so new, you thought of yourself as a giddy teenager sometimes; heart fluttering with each lingering touch and stolen glance. For most of the time, you let Astarion set the pace of things, giving him the freedom to choose to be by your side. And there wasn't a time when he chose not to be.

He played with your fingers, palm to palm as if to compare sizes, alluring red eyes focused solely on where you touched. Innocent, boyish even. It was new for him too, you thought, perhaps much more than it would ever be to you.

And then your mind drifted back to the gift you had been steadily creating for him, excitement twirling in your stomach. You leaned closer, lips brushing the fabric of his shirt on his shoulder, "I'm gonna head to my tent for a bit, got a few things to organize. I'll find you later, yeah?"

A low hum fell past Astarion's lips, his eyes flicked to you, all big and vulnerable. "Oh, alright," his voice quiet and sweet.

You smiled, squeezed his hand, and planted a kiss on the corner of his lips. His eyes never left you as you walked away.

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It had never been on his plans, falling for you. It wasn't even something he considered would happen when he first started to slip a few honeyed words your way. But then you threw his heart off course with your tender touches and whispers of comfort, leaving telltales of your warmth all over his cold body. And he was a goner.

The last time Astarion dared to care about someone, he endured a year of punishment locked away, alone, starving, and crying for help that wouldn't come. There had been a fear, clawing at the back of his mind as he watched himself crumble for you; a fear that this would end much the same.

When he finally bared his heart for you—shaking like a leaf with the proverbial organ stretched out in his hands—he expected you to deny him, scream at him, maybe even send him away.

You didn't.

You said you cared for him. You hugged him.

There was no one else in the world like you, he decided.

Three dangerous words lingered on Astarion's tongue each time he woke up to your sleeping form beside him. For the time being, he settled for kissing the shape of them into your skin, over and over, until maybe one day you figured it out.

He scoffed at himself, finally tearing his gaze away from where you sat on the other side of the camp. If his much younger self saw him now, he'd probably be laughing. Or he'd be very envious. No in-between.

Stars danced in the night sky, alongside a half-moon dusted with faint clouds. It was late, most of the group had already turned in for the night, with Karlach keeping watch, as much to her dismay, it was her turn.

Astarion ran his tongue over his fangs, grip tightening on the book he had in his hands. He'd been trying to read the same page for minutes now.

There was no one else in the world like you. He wondered when you'd realize that. When you'd realize that you were infinitely too good for the likes of him.

With a shiver running down his spine, Astarion worried that you might have started to.

It's been a few days now that you've been… distant; tucked away in your tent whenever you settled camp, not sparing him much time of day, at least not nearly as much as you used to.

With an annoyed click of his tongue, as he closed his book, Astarion realized he missed you, even with you sleeping side by side each night. How needy of him.

But he missed your mindless talks by the fire as everyone settled in for the night; he missed your walks through town just before sunset or sunrise; he missed the causality, the simplicity of calling you his. He'd gotten used to the sweet routine quite quickly.

The thought that you might already be growing tired of him made his dead heart clench agonizingly inside his chest. He glanced back at you, hunched over your makeshift desk as you scribbled something down in a book, Scratch lying by your feet. That is a kind of pain he wasn't sure he could endure.

Perhaps against his better judgment, his feet carried him to you anyway; yet he hesitated, words heavy on his tongue. Astarion stood awkwardly behind you, fidgeting with the edges of his shirt and praying that anyone who might still be awake wouldn't look this way. Scratch raised his head when the elf approached, a whine coming from him as his head tilted from side to side as if he wanted to ask what was wrong. Seems even the dog pities his predicament.

Old habits die hard and Astarion couldn't help but assume the worst, every time. He doesn't know how to be with someone, doesn't know the first thing about being in a relationship—was that what you two had? It's not like you ever labeled it. Maybe he did something wrong, and that's why you've been limiting your time with him.

"Astarion?"

With several blinks, his eyes focused again, only to see you regarding him with a frown, hand resting atop the closed book you had been writing in. Now your head was the one tilting inquisitively.

"Is everything okay?"

Still, your voice would always be sweetest to his ears.

Astarion shook his head softly to clear the fog his insecurities had brought and plastered a smile on his lips. "Of course, my darling," he approached, extending a hand to your sitting form and twirling a strand of your hair between his fingers, "I just think you should be getting your beauty sleep by now. Come warm up my bed, won't you?"

The faint blush that dusted your cheeks whenever he sweet-talked you would never cease to endear him. "We can read that book you're so fond of if you don't want to sleep, the cheesy romance one," Astarion purred, his pointer finger tracing the edges of your jaw.

You turned your head, planting a small kiss on his palm. "I'll be going soon, just want to finish something first. You can read without me, I don't mind."

But how could he ever tell you, that the words looked blurry and tangled without you by his side?

Longer than an hour had gone by when you finally decided to come to his tent. The night was mostly quiet, eery, with only the sounds of crickets, frogs, and the crackling of the dying fire. Astarion lay on his side, back turned towards the tent's opening. He didn't need sleep, not really, some meditation here and there would usually be enough to keep his energy up. But it was a habit he'd picked up when you started sleeping together through the night.

He wasn't asleep tonight, however. He heard your footsteps approaching him, quiet and cautious so as to not disturb him. He felt you lying down beside him, ever so slowly.

Astarion closed his eyes tightly, trying to hold himself back and failing miserably. One taste of your affection had been enough to get him hopelessly addicted.

He turned, shuffling closer and curling his body around you. His arm went over your stomach and tugged lightly, like a kitten asking for attention. You didn't say anything as you closed your arms around him, your lips finding the bridge of his nose and then his forehead. Words were futile when actions spoke the loudest.

Your gentle touches, the way you hold him without malice, he could hardly get enough of it. Your arms wrapped around him and your lips grazed his skin with lingering kisses, and it didn't hurt, it didn't burn or make him feel sick. You were the first one to ever do it, to hold him without hurting him.

Astarion nuzzled your neck, burying himself in the feeling, gladly drowning in it as he drank every last drop. Tears prickled his eyes, they usually did on nights like these and he's never quite sure why. Maybe it's because of the way your fingers gently tangled in his hair yet didn't tug or scrape; maybe it's the way you tighten your hold on him as if trying to mend his fragile heart; maybe it's because of how much he longed for someone like you to come and save him, on nights where all he knew were pain and unwelcomed caresses that scarred his skin more than any blade ever could.

And now, he wanted to lose himself in the comfort he found, that you so generously provided. His fingers closed forcefully on the fabric of your shirt, nearly ripping it, afraid you'd leave if he held you any looser. The fear of waking up alone and finding out that he'd lost you was all too consuming, tugging at his heartstrings.

He closed his eyes and rogue tears dampened the collar of your shirt. It was okay, it would be dry come morning, you wouldn't know. You were warm, you chased away everything that haunted him.

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You stared at it intently. You have been staring at it for a while now, teeth chewing at the inside of your cheek in nervousness and anticipation. You checked it once, twice, turning the pages with careful fingers. The sketchbook wasn't filled, it would take too long to do so, but at least half of the pages inside it held some kind of scribble. Art pieces of various styles and levels of progression, some much more detailed than others, some mere hasty lines put together to paint a dear image you wanted to keep for a while longer. All of them of him. A book filled with the pointy ears and pale hair you adored so much.

You could only hope he would adore it just as much.

It was early in the morning and the day had yet to properly start. Most of your companions were still tucked away in their tents, some huddled around the burned logs of the fire from last night, coffee mugs in their hands and a sleepy look on their faces. You were never much of an early bird yourself, but today you made a point of rising before Astarion—you were lucky he'd picked back up the habit of sleeping and wasn't much of an early bird himself.

Hugging the sketchbook to your chest, you padded back to the warmth of his tent. As you opened the flaps, you were greeted with the sight of soft slivers of sunlight coming through the thinner part of the tent's fabric, they glimmered over Astarion's laying form, kissing his pale skin and making it shine.

You could easily get used to it; waking up to him, watching as the early morning rays painted his features golden, small wisps of dust flying in the air only giving him that bit more magical touch.

Astarion had his back to you, so you quietly kneeled beside him, extending a hand to run through his mess of curls; oh how soft they were, molding in between your fingers like seafoam on the shore. You counted yourself remarkably privileged.

You placed the sketchbook behind you so you could lie down, only keeping yourself up on one elbow. Your lips found his temple and the elf lightly stirred in his sleep. You kissed the tip of his ear next, waking him up gently. Always gently. He deserves gentleness.

With a hoarse groan, Astarion turned around to face you. He blinked several times as his ruby eyes adjusted to the soft sunlight, his face adorably scrunched from sleep. An easy, small smile appeared on his lips as soon as his gaze landed on you.

You weren't an early bird, yet you came to love the mornings, if only for this sight alone.

"Good morning, my star," you said quietly so as to not disturb the peace of the moment, still twirling a strand of his hair between your fingers.

He chuckled, "Good morning, beautiful." His voice all husky and deep, one hand finding your waist and trailing all the way up to your neck to pull you closer.

You kissed the corner of his lips and then the apple of his cheek, and Astarion's hold on you only grew tighter, pulling you on top of him. A welp escaped you as you laughed, nuzzling his neck before baring your teeth and giving him a playful nibble.

"Ow, you menace!" The vampire gasped halfheartedly, holding back a grin.

You pulled back from him with the ghost of a smile, bracing yourself on his chest. "I've got something to tell you."

His expression shifted to something you couldn't quite decipher, but he quickly masked it with a teasing tilt of his brows; "Oh? Are you gonna confess your undying love for me?" Both his hands brushed along the sides of your waist, gingerly raising your shirt as his pinkie grazed your skin.

"I thought we'd gone over that part already?" You teased back with a glint in your eyes, pushing yourself back up to sit beside him.

A whimper of complaint escaped Astarion when you separated, but he sat up with you anyway; his hair askew and all over the place, cheeks with the faintest flush to them, eyes just a little droopy, and… a strange stiffness to his shoulders. "What is it, my love?" He wondered, scrunching his nose endearingly when a piece of lint grazed it.

You squirmed in your seat; heart burning hotter than Karlach's in your chest, valves working overtime as the connection you shared enveloped you whole. You haven't actually told him how much you loved him, the four-lettered word hadn't been brought up yet, mostly for fear of the weight it held. But you wanted to, you've been feeling it for a while now.

"Well? Don't leave me in suspense," Astarion chuckled, but the sound didn't feel quite right to your ears, his smile wasn't reaching his eyes. And as you looked at him—one of his hands gripping tightly onto the fabric of his bedroll while the other tapped his knee incessantly; the ruby of his eyes almost nonexistent, covered by shiny black pupils as he looked intently at you, gaze filled with sentiment and vulnerability—you could notice it there now, that lingering fear of solitude gripping at his chest.

For a moment, you berated yourself, for you knew you'd spent quite some time on your little project, and maybe it had affected your routine more than you cared to admit. You felt a nagging guilt and sorrow for making Astarion even consider the possibility of loneliness again.

You tried shrugging it off. It would be worth it—and you'd be showering him with love and affection in just a moment anyway.

"I made something for you." The words rolled off your tongue more easily than you thought they would. You reached behind you with unsteady hands, heart in your mouth as you held onto your breath.

Astarion stared intently at the black sketchbook that was now clasped between your hands. He looked up at you, and back down, lips pursed in confusion.

"Ever since you told me… you haven't seen yourself in so long," you started, voice gentle as your thumbs traced the leather cover of the book. "And asked me how I saw you. I- I kept thinking about it and… when I found this," you wiggled the sketchbook in the air, "I guess I found a way of showing you…"

You extended the book for him to take, lowering your voice to a near whisper; "how I see you."

A short, trembled gush of air went past Astarion's lips. It was a difficult task to get him speechless, yet you had done it. He said nothing as he ever so carefully took the book from your hands, holding it as if the smallest wrong move could break it.

You watched as his throat worked through a heavy gulp, his eyes shining bright under the faint sunlight, swimming in a pool of sentiment and he hadn't even opened the book yet. Or properly looked at it, for that matter; his eyes still trailed on your face, as if waiting for confirmation that you meant it. Only when you gave him a tiny nod, did he finally look down. It hit you hard that this was probably the first gesture of this kind that he had received in his long life.

Shaky, pale hands reached to turn the first page. He hesitated for only a moment, almost looking afraid. About to see himself after 200 years of living as a ghost.

The first drawing you had made in the book wasn't your best, now that you looked down at it again; a simple portrait of Astarion looking down at a book in his hands, a little rough around the edges, hardly detailed. It had been your first try after not drawing for quite some time.

A beat passed, and a drop of water landed on the bottom corner of the page. You whipped your head up, only to see rogue tears steadily dripping down Astarion's cheeks until they reached his chin and fell on his lap. He cried silently, barely moving; the only signs being the obvious tears and the quivering of his lower lip.

He turned each page as if they were made from the purest gold. Stopping at every single drawing of him, to take it all in. He traced his fingertips over the lines that formed the curves of his curls, the tips of his ears, and the slope of his nose and lips.

People had referred to him as many things already; sexy, alluring, charming, attractive. Never had any of them referred to him as something… precious, delicate, bewitching, more than just a pretty face. Yet that's exactly how he saw himself now, through your eyes.

Astarion took his time, never speaking once. You let him, making yourself comfortable beside him and laying your head on his shoulder, simply existing in each other's presence.

Several minutes had gone by when the elf finally spoke up again. He was finally on the last used page of the book, and when the next appeared in white he slowly closed the book, still grasping onto it reverently. "For a moment I- I thought you'd grown tired of me already," it was the first thing he told you, and he refused to meet your eyes. A humorless chuckle fell past his lips, trying to laugh off his feelings.

You raised your head from his shoulder, lifting a hand to tenderly brush long strands of silver hair behind his ear; as you did so, you allowed your fingers to travel further, burying in the mop of hair behind his head. "Never. Never in a million years," you whispered.

Astarion met your gaze at last, ruby eyes glimmering with unshed tears while dried tracks of the ones before still lingered on his cheeks. This was the real Astarion; fragile, vulnerable, pleading for a gentle love, yet so beautifully strong.

"I'm sorry, my star. For allowing that thought to plague you. I just wanted this to be a surprise." You leaned forward and touched your forehead with his for a brief moment, hoping to bend the rules and physically give him your love.

"You made this," Astarion's voice broke in the middle, yet his smile was the most sincere you'd ever witnessed, "For me."

Catching a single tear that rolled down his cheek, you nodded, with a smile of your own.

There was a beat, a moment of silence where you simply looked at each other, wondering if the other felt just as much. And you didn't need a tadpole connection to confirm it.

Astarion set the sketchbook aside before all but throwing himself at you. Both his arms encircled your waist with desperation as he buried his head in your neck. His lips drew sloppy patterns and raised goosebumps in your skin as he kissed you relentlessly, from shoulder, to neck, to jaw; until he finally reached your own lips.

You brought your arms around him, pulling him in until your very souls were intertwined. Giggles escaped your lips as he kissed you, the shape of both your smiles making it difficult and all the more delightful.

When you parted, Astarion had you pinned down on his bedroll, with him resting snuggly on top of you. He refused to let go, clingy as he'd never dreamt he'd be. Your hand buried in his hair, his nose brushed the skin of your collar bone. "I had asked the gods for salvation, for any kind of blessing, countless times before. I could never guess it would come in the shape of you." He breathed in. He didn't hesitate. "Thank you. I love you."

You felt his smile. Felt the shape of his words on your skin, your soul. You kissed his hairline. "And I love you."

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Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keeps me motivated to continue posting here, so I’d appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment. <3

You do not have permission to repost, copy, or translate my works on any platforms (even with credit), please respect.

Astarion’s taglist: @milkiane @v1ci0us

[anadiasmount]

giiiirlll you gotta write some smut blurb for me after this game !!!! the way jude was sooo aggressive and full of energy 🤭🤭 you have too!!

oh my!! here’s a mini blurb ig!! 🤭🤭 mind the spelling errors pls 😔

“don’t look at the window… look at me love… look at how good and so fucking tight you’re taking me y/n,” jude hissed, his hand sneaking up your sides as your eyes fluttered and pleasure. feeling so full. with courage and strength you managed to look him, jude’s eyes dark and lustful with one thing in mind.

he was still on his winning high, adrenaline still rushed in his veins and energetic. he couldn’t stop it, didn’t know how. especially when he saw you wearing his flimsy jersey and just panties underneath. he craved, needed you to his will just for tonight.

he started on the couch, denying your orgasm with his tongue and finger deep in your cunt. then once again on top your desk where he pushed away papers and pens as he took you from behind. it was so dirty yet so hot it made you dizzy. the way he used and manhandled you. yet also being soft to make sure you were okay and wanted this, just as much as he did.

you loved this side of jude, that appeared on games like this where everything could go wrong for him. you loved that he came to you first. with a needy and almost begging voice. how could you not let him? he was wrapped around your finger, and you’d do anything to give him what he wanted.

he kissed you messily, his tongue tracing his name on yours, gliding it along your pulse point and sucking before hitting the area. you bucked your hips down, the pleasure getting so heavy and cloudy the only thing you could focus on was how deep he was. hitting the angle that made your legs shake and whimper his name. clugging on his shoulders afraid to let go.

“jude please… i can’t… you’re so… mhm… so deep,” you cried out, walls clenching around his hard cock that slowly thrusted in and then out, so wet and so easily. “what do you want y/n?” he gripped your jaw gently, forcing you to look at his pretty and fucked out face. “i need you to tell me baby… or else it will be a longer night.”

“to cum… jude please… i need too. i given you all you asked jude… this isn’t what a goal scorer does…” you said struggling, a trembling chin as you kissed his face, your feet bringing him closer to you. “you’re right he doesn’t do this… and you’ve been such a good fucking gurl for me… listening and waited so patiently…” jude moaned, digging his head in the crook of your neck.

you feared that if he stopped you would cry out, your neighbors being able to hear you. the feeling was indescribable, so passionate, so intimate, you didn’t want him to stop. you but your lip, the bubble in your tummy exploding any second if he continued the pace he was at. “please jude, please-”

“yes holy shit… yes y/n you can cum, cum all over my cock, show me how good i’m giving it to you… how it feels,” jude said, kissing you deep hiding the loud moan that would escape your lips as you were driven to the breaking point. jude groaned feeling as you scratched his back, your legs trembling around him, saying his name like a devoted prayer.

so sweet. jude’s cock twitched inside you, being able to feel the white ropes of cum as he controlled his breathing as well, shaky breaths escaping his swollen and plump lips.

it wasn’t just one time. this was the beginning of something that would last until the morning if it was allowed. no matter how many times it happened, you loved this type of sex with him. so meaningful and so longing.