#and i feel like if i rewrite it the pining will just disappear!!!

[hazelfoureyes]

The Safeword is RadioApple (part 2)

This part doesn’t have the Alastor x Lucifer scene I previewed! I pushed it to the next part since this was already a big chunk of text. I hope you still enjoy it! 🥺 I can do a male reader, I just need a little time as I’ll need to rewrite quite a bit

Locked doors

「Luci was pining to return to your bed, even if he couldn’t fully understand why Alastor exists in it. Luckily for you both, You got a night alone with the King of Hell and before Alastor can implode the whole situation, he had a change of heart perspective.」

[warnings/promises: Lucifer x FemReader, smut, No AlastorxReader this part, Luci eats you out, Luci has a nose, Alastor thinks about gardening but in a jerk kind of way, s e x, Husker is reminded of his chains, Charlie is naive, Facesitting, Luci’s horns, sweet little kisses, aftercare at the before part, creampie is like nyquil, Luci is an entire daddy kink]

Part 1 ꒰აMaleReader✧FemaleReader໒꒱ Part 2 ꒰აFemaleReader໒꒱ Part 3 ꒰აAlastorxLucifer໒꒱ tidbit (cute, not smut) Part 4 ꒰აFemaleReader໒꒱✨NEW✨ ₊⊹⁀➴ Lucifer wins⟡Alastor Wins

minors DNI 🤌🏼

He didn’t want to be fully naked near Alastor, but the idea of bathing with you overpowered his hate. When he entered the bathroom, he found you reclining into Alastor, back to chest, as Alastor’s fingers massaged soap into your upper arms.

Your eyes, closed in comfort, popped open when you sensed his presence, “Luci!” Your legs folded, “Get in.”

Lucifer looked around the clawed foot porcelain tub. He didn’t want to admit he liked the style, obviously picked out by Alastor. With the same hesitancy as before, he stripped and lowered himself in the water opposite you and Alastor.

A wave of stress, again, watching you two intertwined in each other’s attention. But you pushed back against that feeling, hands slipping past his hooved feet until you found his calf. Lifting his leg up, Lucifer yelped as he slid down into the water. Your hands rubbed along the muscle of his leg, humming softly.

He watched you, Alastor disappearing from view entirely. “Thank you, Kitten.” Your smile widened. Eyes wandering down, he found your foot and pressed into the arches with strong fingers. You moaned, visibly relaxing into Alastor’s chest. “Feel good?”

You nodded, “Your hands only ever make me feel good, Luci.”

He nearly choked on his breath, cheeks brightening a scarlet red. How could you get so brutally fucked and still speak to sweetly? Was that really the same mouth?

A stupid grin spread across your face as you pressed into Alastor.

“Happy?” He asked, low and into your hair. 

“Happiest.”  Eyes closed, basking in the glory of your conquest. “What do you like to do after sex?”

It took Lucifer a second to realize you were talking to him, “Oh! Uhh,” a nervous scratch to his cheek, “Kiss? Cuddle. Normal things.” He hoped Alastor took the word normal as an insult but unfortunately he seemed to not be paying any attention. Without opening your eyes, you spread your arms and invited Lucifer to kiss.

He felt his knees graze Alastor’s legs as he shifted, leaning in to you he let his lips touch yours gently. Your arms came around his shoulders and pulled him in for more. He fell into your chest, pressing your body further into Alastor’s. You cooed into his mouth, opening to lick across his lips, finally looking at him. Staring into each other’s eyes, you hoped he could see it, hoped your absolute bliss was palpable to him. Sandwiched between your own personal rock and hard place, you struggled to keep a naughty giggle in your chest. What a lucky girl you were. 

Properly cleaned and doted on, you found yourself in Alastor’s large bed with the men. Alastor had no issues slipping under the blankets and into sleep, your body curled up against his. You were facing Lucifer, who looked exhausted. 

“Sorry for the shock.” You whispered, hand slipping from under the blanket to hold his own. Your mouth opened to say something else, but you stopped yourself. You felt like Lucifer needed space to process.

And he did, taking a moment to look over your face, large red and black deer ears peeking from the blankets behind you. 

“Why did he have to be here?” His fangs bared, “Why not just us?”

Your fingers twirled the wedding band on his left hand, “We have our own little set of rules for what is okay, and he’s always going to be there. That’s the only way this can work.”

Always? This? He wasn’t sure which to grab ahold of first. 

“I’ll never get you alone?” He thought he hid his sadness, but he was in fact pouting very noticeably. 

“Not unless Alastor says so.”

Neither noticed Alastor’s grin slipping through his fake sleep.

His pout deepened, “I hate him.”

“I know.” You laughed, because it was funny. There was really no reason for either of them to hate each other but it seemed neither of their egos could exist in the same room without causing the bad kind of friction. 

“But I -,” He laced his fingers with yours, stopping the reminder of his own vows and to some extent your own, “You. I don’t hate you.”

“Do you not-hate me enough?” said quieter than your other questions, as nervous for the answer as you were the first one of the night. 

“Enough?” Brow knit, Lucifer’s pout melted away. You squeezed his hand. Could he tolerate Alastor enough? Get enough of you for himself? His mind came to greed, to Mammon and his disgust for the sin incarnate. Lucifer had been greedy before, tried to take more than he was allowed, and it led to very terrible things. Some would argue the very worst of all things. 

His nod was barely perceivable. You wondered if you’d imagined it. Perhaps your heart was beating so fast, your eyes shook just enough to see what you wanted. 

Lucifer fell asleep, hand in yours. When he woke, he found himself turned around. At some point he must have rolled away from you, but before he could wake enough to correct the situation, he noticed your own sounds. 

“Allie~” You purred, a tone he had never heard you use before an– Allie?? He gagged.

He could feel the blankets shifting, bed dipping behind him. 

“You’re in odd form, beloved.” Alastor said it softly, not meant for anyone else to ever hear, “I’m sorry I can’t be of more help.”

A huff, a sigh, you made the smallest whimper, “Do you think Luci -?”

Alastor didn’t let you finish, “I don’t ever think about him, darling. So, no.”

Lucifer heard a smack of skin, you playfully hitting Alastor’s chest. “Be nice,” It was a warning, not a suggestion. “I didn’t want to wake him up yet…” The bed dipped again before he felt your hands slip under his arm and down his chest. He tensed, “Luci” you whispered a sing-song form of his name, “Wake up, please. I need your company before I start my day.”

He wanted to whip around but knew that’d be suspicious, he needed to play it cool. Be a man who was totally asleep this whole time. Lucifer closed his eyes, as if you could see his face at all, and forced out a yawn. “Hmm?” He hoped he sounded sleepy, as he was fully alert at this point. 

“Good morning, your majesty.” Your hand snaked down his stomach, “Can I have a moment of your time, sire? I’d like an audience with you.” 

He bit his bottom lip, loving the way you spoke about his position. “Sire” was now second to “Daddy” to his ears. His mind couldn’t play along, already overwhelmed. “I’m not busy at the moment…so…” 

Stupid. Terrible. 

Alastor agreed with the sentiment Lucifer didn’t vocalize. 

Your hand slipped immediately into his boxers, little blue shorts with bright yellow duckies. Taking long, gentle strokes you found him eager to wake up for you, too. 

Luci folded the pillow into his face, stifling a groan as he grew under your fingers. You let his foreskin slide up and down his shaft, rubbing along his head until he had grown too large to accommodate. Luckily for you and Luci, he was leaking like a faucet and providing you just the lubricant to keep your hand gliding over his length. 

He rolled over and began to kiss you, but you quickly pushed him onto his back, coming to straddle him. “May I?” You ground your hips down, wet lips sliding across his cock. Lucifer choked out a reply, something between “yes” and “please” fell from his mouth. You were already naked? Had he missed something?

His eyes flitted to Alastor, who was leaving the bed and going to his armoire. You brought his attention back to you, one hand on his stomach, the other lining him up. Still soft and sore from the night before, Luci much easier slipped into you as you sank down until he was fully sheathed. Taking a moment, you sat on his impossibly hard cock and tried to think of where to put your hands. You leaned back, finding the angle to press his length along your plush g-spot. Slowly, hands on his thighs behind you, you rose up and lowered yourself. 

Luci’s hands came to your hips, needing something to hold on to. Watching you bounce on his cock was making him sweat, not taking into account the feeling of your tight heat so early in the morning. His sweet angel, taking his cock so well. He fought the urge to push you down and let months of pent up affection pound you into the bed.

Soon enough, you were rising and just letting your full body weight drop onto his lap. When you tried to take a hand to touch yourself, Luci’s tail wound up your thigh. You were startled, slowing to see the spade tip pressing down and flicking across your needy clit.

“What the fuck, Luci?” a breathy rhetorical, hand going back to his thigh to regain the speed and force you lost. As you found yourself coming up to that edge, pleasure peaking, you began to moan out his name. Little “Luci”’s and Lucifer”’s chanted to the ceiling. 

Luci’s head pushed down into the pillow, mind unfurling. “Enough,” He whispered into the air, hips rutting up to meet your frenzied thrusts, his reply lost in the sounds of your bodies connecting. 

⫘⫘⫘

Lucifer tried to be normal around the hotel, but as hours turned to days he found it harder and harder to keep it together. While always aware of you, always looking for you, he was now noticing the dynamic between yourself and Alastor. The two of you were often in the same spaces, but rarely together. It baffled him. If you were his, he’d never take his hands off you. His fingers would always be in yours, hand on your back, arm linked in arm. How could Alastor exist around you in any other state than at your feet? 

He began to wonder what exactly you saw in the deer demon. Yes, his dick did work, much to Lucifer’s surprise. But surely that wasn’t it. Because Lucifer’s dick also worked. The math was not mathing.

His bed was suddenly too large. Silk sheets too cold. Room too quiet. Lucifer found himself pacing the halls at night, mind wandering to what you were doing. What you both may be doing. How he would, could, fit in.

Any time he could, he found a reason to touch you. Handing him a plate? Fingers gliding over yours. Entering the same room? Ah, his hand fit so perfectly on the small of your back as he let you go first. Look at this paper! Slide beside him, let his hand come to rest on your waist. Before, he avoided every chance to feel your skin under his own. Now, he was hungry for every little taste. He felt like lightning bit him with every connection to you. He wondered if you felt it, too. 

Alastor wasn’t blind. He saw Lucifer’s eyes watching you. How he followed you like a lost puppy. 

He nearly snapped his microphone in two one morning, seeing Lucifer’s hand around your waist. It was odd, the sex? No issue! Who cares? It’s just bodies. He knew you were satisfied with him regardless of if you ever fucked. You both were quite content to just lie in bed and read, kissing and cuddling under the blankets before bed. 

But something about this was getting under his skin. Maybe it was the public setting, almost an insult to him. Showing everyone how the King of Hell could have anything he wanted. Anyone.

Or maybe it was something messier. These weren’t lustful touches. His hands were always so gentle on you, tender. There was emotion behind the way Lucifer’s fingers grazed your body. He was fine with watching another soul lust after you. Your body was something he could share, just flesh. Your heart? His hair bristled. Would Lucifer undermine what he had?

Mint. His mother planted it once in the yard. Mint grows exceptionally well. Too well. If not properly contained, it will spread across the garden and become a weed and overtake the other plants.

He relished in uprooting the mint by the fistfuls. 

Seeing Lucifer laugh loudly, leaning into your ear to whisper something that made you giggle in return, Alastor thought about mint. Best when ripped from the ground and muddled with a ridged dowel. 

When you knocked on Lucifer’s studio door later that night, the place he had built specially for himself in the new and improved hotel, he frantically tried to clean up the space. You hadn’t been alone with him since that morning nearly a week prior now. 

Truth be told, you hadn’t actually planned on Lucifer agreeing to join Alastor and you in bed. You weren’t sure how to politely invite him back without sounding like you saw him as just a fuck buddy. When you voiced your concern to Alastor, he laughed. Then patted your head.

Not overly helpful.

“Hey there! Long time no see huh?” He laughed a little too hard.

“Luci, we saw each other at breakfast.” 

His hat seemed to wither on his head, “Right yeah haha that— time away from you feels so long! The heart —,” he stopped talking, “Inside?” Wide eyed, he gestured for you to enter. 

With a nod, you walked in. Just, so many ducks. An ungodly number of ducks. Too many, some could argue.

“What’s the latest creation?” You searched the room for anything obviously special.

Lucifer grabbed your hand as he walked past and pulled you to the desk. “Check this out.” He cupped his hands, holding up a duck with six wings and tiny horns. The wings flapped gently.

“Little Luci duck?” You tapped the beak. 

He hummed, “Do you like it? I thought maybe for your bath.” 

You genuinely didn’t know what to say. Your finger slid up the head and down the back. Bringing it to your lips, you kissed the tiny orange beak. “Now I can have you in my bath every night.” 

A smirk, squiggly and long spread across his face.  Shoulder to shoulder at his drawing table, he leaned over to kiss your cheek. Your finger tapped your lips, instructions for where to bring his lips next.

“Dad?”

Lucifer flipped around, knocking up against the desk and causing ducks to cascade down, “CHARLIE! Haha! HEY!” 

Charlie was standing in the open doorway, eyes bouncing from you to Lucifer and back. “Sorry, are you… busy?”

If you stayed very very still maybe she wouldn’t see you. 

No? Yes? Which— which was the least suspicious?

“No?” Lucifer offered.

“I wanted to talk to you about some hotel stuff. I can come back later?”

You folded, sliding away from Lucifer, “I was just going, actually.” You nodded at Charlie, hands behind your back holding your duck. 

Alastor lied on your bed while you wallowed, your upset amusing to him. Where you saw an issue, he saw an opportunity. His wide smile seemed to shine under the dim light of your room, “Charlie is too innocent to make such a leap, dear. She’d need much more than that to suspect anything.” 

“I just don’t wanna cause him trouble. His life has enough strife. I didn’t start this to make things harder on him.” You buried your face into the pillow. 

His hand petted softly at your hair, “Why did you start this?”

You and Alastor weren’t a very sexual couple, and though your libido was stronger opposed to Alastor’s distinct lack of one, that was never an issue. But part of why he even allowed Lucifer to join your bed was to help round out your pleasure. Not that Luci was just a dick to you, literally. Alastor knew how badly you wanted to dote on the monarch, and when we you discussed your desires he was happy to oblige. As long as you didn’t stray from his side, Alastor was fine with holding the reins of this extension, of sorts, to your own relationship. 

But he was, at his core, a mortal soul. He was not impervious to feelings of envy.

“Well, yes, more sex with powerful people is quite nice.” Alastor nodded in agreement, the openness something he was fine with. “But I just wanna see him smile more. He’s so-,”

“Insignificantly small?”

You glared from over the pillow, “Cute.”

His fingers traced down your cheek to your chin, lifting your face to receive a kiss, “Do I still have the controlling share of your heart?”

Rarely, nearly never, did Alastor admit worry. You immediately sat up, the simple question sending off alarms. “Of course! Say the word, I’ll lock the door. Our doors only open as wide as we decide. Together.” Alastor hummed, content with the answer. 

“That’s all I need to hear! I will be back by midnight, don’t lock anything before then.” With a kiss to your forehead, he excused himself down to the bar.

Sure enough, within an hour Lucifer pulled himself into a bar stool and asked Husk for a soda water with lime. He notoriously avoided alcohol.

From his chair, Alastor watched the king of hell frown into the glass. If he could, he would drink that pitiful look by the bottle.

Alastor appeared beside Lucifer, flashing two fingers to Husk. 

“You look like the dog who got kicked.” Alastor’s grin, toothy and sharp, smiled at Lucifer. A laugh track faintly played in the background of his static voice.

“Hey here’s an idea! Go fuck yourself.”

War requires sacrifice. To truly get what you want will always cost you. Alastor knew this well, having paid many prices along his life and death to ultimately come out ahead. 

“She’s quite sad, you know. Poor thing is in her bed now, cradling a small duck.” Alastor tipped his glass into his mouth. Lucifer didn’t reply, frown pushing into a pout.

“She’ll be asleep by 11, normally when she starts to doze off. Unless, of course, she’s otherwise preoccupied.” The whiskey burned, he only drank it neat. Unadulterated.

“Are you bragging? Why are you telling me this, you haunted broomstick?”

The glass cracked in his hand as he set it down, “Because, you empty headed lawn ornament, I’m giving you my blessing to visit her.” Alastor’s bones seemed to snap as his head turned to look at Lucifer with an eerie jerking.

Immediately he perked up, “Oh. Together?” Suspicious.

“I’ll be there later.” Alastor’s head cocked to the side, “You can go ahead.”

Lucifer’s eyes narrowed, “What’s the catch?”

“No catch! Why so suspicious?” Alastor’s eyes rolled, now with a smaller grin, “My darling just has such an appetite, whereas I don’t need quite as much, as often.” 

That made… sense. A lot of sense, actually. Lucifer let that bit of information blanket the past week of observations and everything lined up. 

“Oh!” Lucifer swivelled his chair, “Okay….does she..want me to see her?” He gripped his cane, a nervous reaction, “She hasn’t actually brought it up since.”

“How would I know? I was as shocked as you when she asked for you in the first place.” Husk watched Alastor’s smile twitch, hearing what sounded like pure annoyance in his voice as he said it. 

Lucifer opened his mouth to make a jab, but thought better of it and abandoned the drink and the bar to find you. 

Husk tried to sneak away, but felt the tug of his chains.

“What did you hear, Husker?” Husk’s fur stood on end as he slowly turned to face the fearsome radio demon. 

“Nothing, boss. I don’t know what you’re talking about.” His hand had to set the bottle he carried down, shaking too much to be sure he wouldn’t drop it. 

“Good boy.” Alastor finished his whiskey, “I’d hate to have to find a new bartender. Another, please and thank you. I’ve got some time to kill.”

⫘⫘⫘

“Luci?” You looked around the hall, wondering if perhaps someone else had come with him, “What’s up?”

He opened his arms, “That piece of shit said I could see you. Alone.”

Your smile fell, “Why would he do that?” Lucifer laughed, shrugging it off. 

“Maybe he knows he is no match for our connection.” His brows rose up and down his face.

“That….definitely isn’t it, Luci.”

He looked wounded, “May I still come in? If you want me, that is. Want me TO! Want me, to enter. Inside the room. Your room. Bedroom. This-.,” You opened the door the rest of the way and moved aside. 

“What exactly did Alastor say?” You sat on the small bench at the foot of your bed.

 The worry was visible on your face.

“Something about different appetites. Aaand I could come up before he came to bed. Oh, and that you were sad.” Lucifer set his hat on the dresser, resting the cane to the side. 

Those were true things. 

Yes, you had been sad. Moping just before Alastor left, come to think of it….was this a little gift? Why wouldn’t Alastor tell you beforehand? You rarely did anything without discussing it first. 

“Did you not want to see me?” Luci misread your face. 

“Oh! No!” 

He winced.

“No, I mean– no, I did not …not want to see you.” Fuck, his nervous energy was spreading. How did you ever manage a private conversation with him before? “I am very happy you’re here. I felt so bad, about earlier. Did I cause you any trouble with Charlie?”

Luci plopped down beside you, “Don’t be silly! She thinks we’re run of the mill pals!” A laugh, “I think.”

Your eyes searched the room. Alone together, in a truly private place. But again, you wanted to show Lucifer more than just your lust for him. You wanted to see him smile, to feel appreciated and seen. That was harder to do when in a dick fog. 

“Are you okay with starting with a cuddle this time, Luci?” Standing, you lowered the lights with the dial on the wall. “We can move past it if you’re feeling it. Or just enjoy being in each other’s company.”

“I love cuddling! I’m a pro at cuddling! Haha, yes. Totally okay.” He paused, “Why are you laughing?”

You pulled back the covers, getting into bed, “You’re so cute, your majesty.” He felt that stupid grin creep across his face, “Come to bed.”

With a puff of red smoke, he was in his boxers and scrambling to you. You tried to stifle another laugh, what a silly person the Devil was. “You could have done that every time?” You asked. He just nodded, hands coming around your body and pulling you close to him. “You’re so warm.”  Your nose brushed against his.

“Fires of hell and all that.” He kissed the tip of your nose, before lightly pressing his lips to your own. Another peck, his hands roaming up your hips and then your arms, then coming to your cheek. He pulled you closer now, deepening his once chaste kisses. 

Was this cuddling? You thought you had wanted to dote on him. But now it seemed you were the one being showered in adoration. He sighed into your mouth, and your mind went blank. Yes this was cuddling. This was anything he said he wanted it to be. 

Lips soft, mouth warm, tongue forked. His head tilted, desperate to get himself deeper into your mouth. You tasted like heaven, something he was too scared to miss. Tongue rolling over yours, you moaned into the kiss. Luci’s hands slid from your face to your hip, hand gripping you as he groaned in response. Hips slowly rolling into nothing, he tried to calm down. He finally had you all to himself, and his body reacted with an eagerness he had forgotten. Your own hands pushed gently against his chest, not to make distance, but to feel his body pressing up against your own skin. 

His lips parted yours, he went to speak but instead returned to kissing you. Leaving your lips and travelling down your neck, he found the will to talk, “Tonight, let me take the lead?” You nodded, wondering what his lead would look like. 

Alastor was always chasing something in you, feeding off more than your body. The few times he would want to go beyond just caressing, he would wring pleasure from you like a deserted man to an empty canteen. His body quaking with every drop he could manage. 

And Lucifer? Your already wet cunt clenched around nothing but possibilities. You nodded, watching a fire light behind his eyes you hadn’t seen in the bedroom before.

“I’m going to spoil you rotten.” His face was bright, both hands pulling your hips onto him as he rolled onto his back. “You don’t need these.” Clawed hands tugging at your panties beneath your open robe. 

Oh. That was quick.

As you leaned back to remove them, Lucifer’s mind was on timing. He could eat you out for hours if afforded it, but he knew Alastor would be coming in eventually. Lucifer had no intentions of sharing you tonight. 

When you sat down, his hands hooked under your thighs and pulled you up. And up. 

“Luci?”

“Let me show you how I ruined eden.” He opened his mouth, long tongue snaking out in a truely debauched display.  Your body was just near his chin now, and you were too stunned to move. His hands slapped your ass playfully, “Please take a seat, kitten. Your throne awaits.”

Would you suffocate him? Did he need breathe? Were you heavy? Shou-

“Pet.” His hands drummed on your thighs, “Just grab the headboard.”

Mortified. You placed your knees on either side of his head and gripped the headboard. You barely had a chance to lower yourself before he pulled you onto his mouth.

Hot breath. Luci had been dreaming of this for weeks, long before your initial invite. His tongue lapped up the slick from hole to clit, humming into your skin. Your thighs clenched and you had to focus to open them again. You apologized, but Luci just winked and made a show of taking two fingers and setting them on your thigh where he held you. 

You’d never done anything where you were the one on watch for the tap tap. It felt…. Good. Deep breath, relax into the system you made for each other.

His tongue dipped into your heat, you hadn’t considered the positive attributes of its length until now. Your hips rocked slowly, the feeling of his soft and determined tongue along you walls making your mind reel. How could something be so gentle but so ravaging? Had anyone’s tongue ever been so deep in you?

Resting your forehead on the headboard you watched Luci’s eyes close, his smile felt from thigh to thigh. Nowhere was Lucifer more in his element than mouth under a wet cunt. As your breath quickened so did your hips, grinding down more and more as you felt the pleasure spiking with every touch. 

Luci’s tongue left your now dripping hole to latch onto your clit. Sharp teeth pricked your skin as he began to suck, expert tongue intermittently lapping at your little bud of nerves. 

Your knuckles were turning white as you considered snapping the headboard in half in an attempt to chase the euphoria. It felt so good, but as the time was going forward you could tell it wasn’t enough to get you over that hurdle. 

Cold air rushed to your flushed skin, “What do you need, kitten?” Two large eyes, yellow and red, looked up from your lap.

“I want to feel you. Inside.” Your eyes flitted up as his mouth returned to his measured pace on your clit. Whimpering, you thought about reaching back and inserting your own fingers when you found your new friend beat you to it. His spaded tail folded in on itself and slipped past your twitching entrance.

You choked out a noise, the sensation something entirely foreign. Smooth and cold, he just needed to get the tip inside for you to start moaning in earnest. Your body was rocking between his tongue and his tail, shortening the intervals as you ramped up to your orgasm. 

His hands on your thighs tightened, clawed hands digging into your flesh. His moan made your feet cramp, legs now twitching. “Close— Luci!” Talking felt like losing your place, but the way he moaned in response egged you on, “Luci! Please don’t sto-,” your abdomen tight, body locked as it edged to that peak, your pleas to not stop devolved into whispered a, “no no no no god no” into the wooden bed frame.

Lucifer’s hands snaked up your sides, holding onto your waist he pulled your full weight down into his mouth, tail twisting as it thrust in and out of you. Just deep enough that the large edge of the spade was spreading your lips with every movement. 

Eyes closed, your body shook violently over his face as you finally broke through, orgasm flooding your system with endorphins. Feet, legs,  stomach, hands, everything loosened. Luci’s tongue stopped, tail slipping out. 

You didn’t make a move, needing a second to just bask in the feeling.

Before it fully waned, Luci’s arms came up and over your thighs before he pushed your body toward his chest. And then you felt yourself falling backwards.

He’d pushed himself off the bed and flipped you so quickly you hadn’t even seen it happen. Vision adjusting you saw his yellow eyes now red, red and black horns sprouted from his forehead.

“Open up for Daddy, kitten.” He was fully buried in your softened pussy before you could form a thought. Your body hadn’t forgotten his size, but you still felt a burning at your entrance where the skin struggled to stretch for him. Luci’s body fell onto yours, his hands bringing your legs up past his hips and behind his back. You hooked your feet together around his waist and held on with both arms, eyes rolling back with every thrust.

“You feel so good, you’re so tight,” he moaned directly into your ear. Bodies tightly pressed together, an embrace where only his hips would leave your skin and just long enough to piston back into you. Your legs were so far up that your hips weren’t on the bed anymore. The angle made your head fall back, muscles unable to receive signals from your bliss addled brain. His arms were under yours, resting beneath your back and on your shoulders, pulling you tighter into to him. You felt surrounded by him, every part of your body touching his. A tangle of flesh and whimpers. “You’re so beautiful, kitten. You take daddy’s cock so well. I’m melting.” His horns brushed against your head, the sound of them slipping across the comforter with every thrust reminding you of their presence.

Lucifer felt lost in you. He fought to keep his mind clear enough to ensure his embrace stayed gentle. You were a bundle of softness and heat under him. He felt his balls creeping up, tightening as he was ready to chase your own orgasm with his. For a second his eyes searched the immediate area for Alastor. The word “cum” ringing in his ears.

With a sigh, hot and heavy at your neck, he pressed into you as far as his body could enter. As you could feel the warmth of his cum filling you, your cunt began to spasm around him. Body instinctively hungry for him. His hands hooked under your shoulders held you still, your legs still tight around his waist.

You stayed there until you both were breathing normally. Your legs fell down, thighs falling open as you released your grip on him. Luci didn’t move for another minute, opting to rest his head in your chest. Silence, just the gently rolling waves of soft pleasure and contentment still coming.

Satiated, you suddenly felt so drowsy. “Luci.”

His head popped up, horns gone and sclera back to yellow, “Yes, kitten?”

“Blankets.” You let your eyes closed, feeling the comforter being pulled to you.

Alastor walked in to find you both asleep, Lucifer still on top of you, heads at the foot of the bed and feet on the pillows. The comforter half assed folded over your bodies.

He wasn’t surprised. Alastor peeled Luci off of you and tossed him onto the pillows. 

“Fuck you, hair cut,” Lucifer whispered, between awake and asleep.

“Yes yes, your majesty. Fuck you too.” Alastor picked you up and set you where you belonged. He pulled the blankets over you both, taking a beat to stare down at the scene.

Beloved, happily asleep. Obnoxious monarch, looking angelic beside you. Lucifer looked so much more tolerable when sleeping.

He considered for a moment returning to his own room, as he had planned all along. Looking from you to Lucifer, he felt something swell in his chest. 

Keeping you was a treasure. A treasure he trusted would always be his. But to have you and the king of hell? Not just influence by way of your ties to Lucifer? Well, that could bring power.

His mother always recommended containment for mint, Alastor pulling too many and not allowing for them to enjoy the benefits of their hard work for very long. Containment, he considered, locking the bedroom door and taking his place beside you.

⫘⫘⫘

When there was a knock in the morning all three of you popped up from the pillows.

“Who the hell is that? It’s so early…” your eyes struggled to focus on the clock.

“Fffuck,” Alastor held his face in his hands. “I forgot I-,”

“Hello?” Charlie said into the door.

You and Lucifer slowly turned to stare at Alastor, a thin smile from ear to ear on his face.

“Alastor asked me to wake you up. So you wouldn’t miss the planning meeting.”

“Can’t a demon be a little chaotic now and then?” Alastor mused, your eyes boring holes into his skull. 

The doorknob rattled, “Oh… He said it would be open. Well, okay… I guess I’ll let you sleep! Maybe next week!”

As Charlie made her way down the hall she just missed the sound of furniture moving and a thud as Lucifer tackled Alastor out of the bed and onto the floor, hands on his throat. 

This was going to be a problem.

༻Masterlist༺

∰ Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult (general tag list): @cxrsedwxrlds , @nonetheartist , @tsunaki , @janchei , @wettiny-in-smutland , @moonmark98 , @hoebihoeshi , @pansexual-opera-house , @polytheatrix , @lorddiabigmommymilkers , @backinthefkingbuildingagain , @harley2223-blog , @coffee-colored-hopeless-romantic , @poinappel , @midnightnoiserose , @spookieroz , @missmidorima , @ivebeenthearchersstuff , @downbadforfictionalppl , @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx , @sleepylittledemon , @aether-th3-enby , @dontfuckbutimfab , @breathlessaura , @aperfectidiot , @certainlygay , @jth12 , @star-kujo-platinum , @ivebeenthearchersstuffn, @rubyninja1 , @simphornies , @alleystore , @readergirlstuff , @berry-demon , @chirimeimei , @fairyv-ice , @olive-frog , @thonethatflies620 , @tiredkiwiii , @ilikemyteawithmilk , @whateverlololo , @psipies , @howabouticallyou , @roxxie-wolf , @ive-no-idea-what-to-call-this , @fizzled-phoenix , @fjorjestertealeaf , @phobophobular , @surusurusuru , @mariaclarade-la-cruz1 , @whateverlololo , @simplyonehellofanotaku , @xixflower , @i-am-nonbinary-bean-deal-with-it , @roxxie-wolf

🏹Alastor stalkers: @celestial-vomit , @amurtan

#alastor #Hazbin hotel #RadioApple x reader #Radioapple #alastor x reader smut #alastor x reader #Lucifer Morningstar x reader #Alastor smut #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor x you #lucifer x reader #lucifer x you #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer morningstar #hazbin lucifer #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer smut #lucifer magne #alastor hazbin hotel #smut writing #smut fanfiction #x you smut #smut #x you #reader fic #reader #reader insert

[httpiastri]

this christmas – op81

ski slopes, mistletoes, and the guy you've been crushing on for years – what could be better?

genre: fluff, mutual pining, friends to lovers!au, smut (just one scene in the end, you can skip it if you want)

pairing: female leclerc!reader x oscar piastri

other characters: lando norris, charles leclerc, george russell & mundt, alex albon & lily muni he, pierre gasly & kika cerqueira gomes

warnings: mentions of alcohol, smut, not much more i think

word count: 13.8k (LMAO)

requested?: yes!!

author’s note: hello hello!! a lot to say about this one. first of all, thank you to @be-your-coffee-pot for this request, and i apologize for not getting to it earlier than now. for everyone’s knowledge, the request was sent in to me in august, so… yeah. i know it’s not exactly what you asked for, but i hope you like it anyway <3

second of all, i feel pretty happy about some of these scenes, but some… not so much. some of the fillers have parts that i really despite, but i don’t really have time to rewrite since christmas is like 2 days away lol. also, my description of the reader’s relationship to charles is not my best work, idk why he barely even appears, and i’m also not sure why logan isn’t in this...

third of all, my red divider things make my posts disappear from the tags, so i didn’t put any in this time. it looks bad, i know, but idk how to fix it. if anyone does, please let me know. :)

and lastly: i only proofread this whole thing once yesterday, but tumblr was being a bitch and i got so frustrated that i do not have the energy to proofread it again. so please, if you happen to find any spelling or grammar mistakes, i would be very thankful if you let me know. <3

hope you all enjoy !!

december 12th, 2:11pm

oscar has always loved winter.

it started in his childhood; the holiday films he'd seen as a child, the way it always seemed to magically snow right on christmas eve really started something in him. it hadn't been common for him to get snow back home in australia when he was younger but once he moved to the england, he got to experience it quite a lot. playing, fighting and just existing in the snow was like an unfilled childhood need that stayed with him until his older years.

he loved spending christmas at home with his family, but ever since he got to experience real christmases with snow, trees and cozy darkness, he craved it more than he craved lying on the beach in his swimming trunks.

so when he was asked to come along to the swiss alps for a vacation during the winter break, he packed his bags right away. he and lando just happened to book the same flight, and they both arrived at the airport around noon, getting into a cab to take them to the accommodation together.

when they arrive outside the cottage, oscar is in shock; it is enormous. he had imagined just a tiny, cute little house – not that he was sure how seven drivers and a couple of girlfriends would fit in a "tiny" house – but he was far from right.

him and lando are the second pair to arrive, just about an hour after alex and lily, who are the self-proclaimed 'hosts' as they took care of all of the booking and planning.

"we thought that one would be lando's room," alex starts, pointing down the hallway. "since it's far away from everyone else, and i'm sure we all would prefer to actually get some sleep during the night time."

"oh, shut it..." lando mumbles, shoving his friend on his shoulder.

"this one can be yours, oscar," lily says, moving in the opposite direction and gesturing to another room. then, she points at the one right next to it. "and this one has two beds, so it's for charles and his sister."

oscar's ears perk up. "y/n is going to be here?" he speaks almost took quickly, making the other three turn to look at him.

"oh, i thought you knew..." lily has an apologetic look on her face.

"i must've forgotten," oscar answers, though he's completely sure no one told him about it. there's no way he would forget you. "don't worry, it's cool."

the hosts continue to move down the hallway, and the mclaren boys are just about to follow along when lando elbows oscar's side playfully. "it's cool?"

oscar raises an eyebrow, trying to keep calm. "what?"

"the youngest leclerc coming along?" a grin takes up lando's entire face. "it's just cool? is she cool, or-"

"goodbye, lando." oscar shakes his head, darting towards alex and lily again. he takes a few deep breaths, hoping the blush he can feel spreading across his cheeks isn't too obvious.

unfortunately, lando didn't need to see the blush to know. he has caught his teammate staring at you too many times over the season, and he is fully aware of the way oscar always is suddenly interested in the conversation whenever you're the topic of discussion.

lando knows everything. and this christmas, he's going to be the best wingman the world has ever seen.

‎‎ ‎‎

december 13th, 12:53am

it's past midnight when you and charles arrive. your flight had been delayed, and then the gps had stopped working all of a sudden. and then, charles just refused to drive any faster than 30 km/h, saying it was too dangerous. as if he didn't drive cars in ten times that speed without even flinching.

you assume the whole house is sleeping already, so you and charles both sneak in as quietly as you can. someone – lily, assumably – has left you a note on the front door, guiding you to your shared room. it all goes smoothly – until charles trips over the doorframe, dropping his bag onto the floor as he tries not to fall down. the sound rattles through the hallway and you flinch, stopping in your tracks as you hope no one's woken up. but just a second later, the door opposite yours opens and a head sticks out.

oscar.

your heart softens and your shoulders relax when your gaze meets his. your soft smile is mirrored on his face, the sleepiness evident in his droopy eyes and the way strands of his bedhead point in every direction.

he looks like he's just about to say something when charles speaks up. "sorry, man! were you asleep?"

he walks up to the australian, giving him a firm handshake and a pat on the back. oscar shakes his head. "i was up reading," his huskey accent is like music to your ears. "i thought i heard some rustling out here, and then..." he nods his head toward the suitcase on the floor.

your brother laughs as he steps back, walking into the room with the "leclerc" sign. "well, i'll let you get back to that then," he says, picking up the bag from the floor and looking back one last time. "good night."

and then, you were just two.

you and oscar stand still for a moment, just watching each other. then, he opens up his arms, welcoming you into his embrace. you step forward and drape your arms around his shoulders as his wrap around your waist, and you let out a content sigh. he's warm, comfortable, and the way he squeezes your body has your mind spinning.

"it's been a while," he says when you part from the hug, a soft grin playing on his lips.

"like a month," you chuckle, crossing your arms over your chest.

"a month has never felt this long before."

you're not sure when your crush on him started forming.

as someone who's always been interested in racing, even in the series your brother isn't in, you've kept up with most results and championships – including oscar's seasons in f2 and f3. after seeing oscar, the unstoppable rookie who completely crushed his season in f3, you made sure to keep an eye at him in f2 the following year. and it's easy to say that you liked what you saw. especially in jeddah.

you'd meet him occasionally around the paddock the following year, just giving him a sweet smile and a quick greeting as if it was no big deal. but you always found yourself squealing on the inside and taking deep breaths to stay calm whenever you made eye contact with him.

then came 2023 and his debut in f1. yet again, he exceeded everyone's expectations, performing better than most drivers who'd been on the grid for years. with his permanent role on the grid, he was around more – and so were you. it wasn't uncommon for the two of you to bump into each other, around the paddock or during media days or in afterparties, and now you tried not to shy away.

talking to oscar was always simple. he was easygoing, it all seemed effortless, and you felt more relaxed. before you knew it, you could chat about racing strategies and tyre management for twenty minutes before a member of the mclaren staff interrupted you, rushing oscar away somewhere. you got to know each other slowly throughout the season, though never really going further than some friendly conversations, but you felt happy knowing that you'd taken the first step towards getting closer to him.

"so..." he starts. "you've been good?"

you nod. "yeah, a lot of studying but it's been alright. you?"

"yeah."

and there it is again, that slightly awkward silence. it's natural, you haven't seen each other since that night in abu dhabi and you're both a little unsure of where you stand after it. the tension is so thick that you could cut through it with a knife, and you kind of want to escape the whole situation. but then he speaks up.

"hey, i just wanted to-"

he's interrupted by the call of your name, and when you turn around, charles is leaning against the doorframe, eyes hazy. "are you going to sleep tonight or what?" he asks, dragging a hand through his already messy hair.

you feel a weight lift off your shoulders – and at the same time, your stomach tightens in disappointment. you nod at your brother, looking back at oscar to give him a wave and a "sleep well", before joining charles in your shared room.

oscar stands still in the corridor for a moment, before sighing and slapping himself in his mind for being so awkward and messing up this opportunity. but on the other side of the door, you stand still too as you watch your brother jump onto his bed, taking a deep breath to clear your mind.

you're just thankful the room is so dark that he can't see your ever-reddening cheeks.

‎‎ ‎‎

december 13th, 10:24am

despite the never-ending pitter-patter of your heart as you went to bed last night, you could fall asleep quite quickly, seeing as you were utterly exhausted from traveling. breakfast this morning feels like you and charles have just been reunited with your childhood friends after being kidnapped for years; not like you had just gone a few weeks without seeing each other. everyone runs around hugging, chatting about how much they've missed each other and how great this trip will be.

"did you get new highlights?" kika asks you, sliding into the seat next to you by the long table as you stuff a piece of bread into your mouth. the room is a combination of a kitchen and a dining hall, with a big cooking area and a glass wall giving the dining area a beautiful view of the mountains outside. in the middle stands a long table with enough seats for all of you, filled with fresh pastries and other breakfast goods to celebrate the first day of the trip. "or is it just the light?"

"just the light," you answer, shooting her a smile as you pick up your cup of coffee.

"oh my god, i almost forgot to ask you," lily starts and places her elbows on the table, her face resting in her hands. "what happened to that guy from raya you were talking to? did you end up going out?"

oscar is sitting a few seats down the table, pretending to be immersed in a conversation with some of the other drivers about the last few races of the season, while actually just doing his best to listen in on the conversation you're having. when he hears alex's girlfriend mention raya, his ears perk up and his breath gets caught in his throat. a million thoughts instantly crash into his mind.

she's seeing someone? how could i not know this? she's on raya? is she actively looking for a partner? who is this guy they're talking about?

he coughs and tries to act normal, shaking off the uncomfortable feeling passing through his body. he soon hears the sweet sound of your wholehearted laughter, and he almost smiles instinctively at it, before he can remind himself that lando's story about las vegas isn't exactly a smiley matter. "you're not going to believe this, i have the best story," you say in-between fits of giggles. "i met up with him for some drinks, and guess what he said? that he has a foot fetish and has dreamed about me caressing his face with my feet." all of the girls squeal and explode with laughter, making some of the boys flinch and look over to see what all the commotion is about. "so, safe to say, we never met up again. and i haven't wanted to go out with anyone else from there, either. i have a feeling they're all just creeps."

"hey, don't lose hope!" kika says while elbowing your side, but her actions are too soft, forcing you to fold over as an uncomfortable feeling spreads through your body. however, a burst of laughter spills past your lips. kika immediately holds her arm back, laughing along. "crap, i'm sorry! i totally forgot how ticklish you are."

you shake your head, your hand landing on her shoulder. "no worries," you tell her. "but, i haven't lost hope. i just don't think my soulmate is lurking around on raya with the foot fetishists."

oscar feels his shoulders relax again, feeling alright with focusing back on the boys' conversation now that he knows you in fact aren't seeing anyone.

maybe he has a shot, after all. as long as he doesn't talk too much about your feet.

‎‎ ‎‎

december 14th, 3:09pm

lando thinks he's so smart.

when he tells oscar to go ask if you'd like to have some of the gingerbread cookies he's bought, it's the third time today he has forced some kind of interaction between the two of you. he is sure that the more time that the two of you spend with each other, the more likely you will be to stop pining and just confess already.

but this time, oscar glares at the brit. "why don't you ask her yourself?"

"because you know what room she's in," lando hums back, reaching into the cupboard with some groceries. "i keep getting lost, the house is too big. plus, i'm busy." he motions to the half-empty grocery bag on the counter.

oscar lets out a sigh, but nods. "how can you memorize all tracks on the calendar, but you get lost in a cabin?" he asks rhetorically, whilst turning around and making his way down the hallway towards your room.

it's not that oscar doesn't enjoy 'accidentally' being forced into talking to you; it's the extreme lack of discretion lando is showing that makes him annoyed. it makes oscar seem like he's the one coming up with silly excuses to talk to you, and he doesn't like how it makes him look. he'd rather be seen as chill, laidback, someone who doesn't force things. he doesn't want you to catch on too early and reject him.

your voice echoes a 'come in' when he knocks on the door to your bedroom, and he pushes the door open just a little to reveal you sitting on the bed, a thick blanket wrapped over your shoulders. a grin spreads across your lips when you make eye contact with him. "hi," you say, placing the book you were reading on the bedside table.

"hey," he answers, stepping inside the room. "i... lando bought some gingerbread cookies, and we were going to make some hot chocolate, and..." his voice trails off as his eyes wander down your body, taking in the christmas sweater you're wearing and the fuzzy socks covering your feet. he smiles absentmindedly at the sight, loving how cozy you seem, and wishing he was sitting right there with you, sharing the blanket.

you nod, understanding him despite his lack of words. "i'll be right there."

oscar gives you a thumbs up – one he then facepalms himself for when he's left your room – before moving towards the kitchen again. but when he walks into it, he sees something hanging from a lamp. he stops in his tracks. "no way..."

festive cookies aren't the only thing lando bought when he went to the local supermarket. he also got the ultimate tool for securing his master plan – a mistletoe.

he doesn't know how, but he's planning to make sure you and oscar meet underneath it at least once before the holidays are over. there's no way you'll both be able to avoid it all week.

of course, lando isn't the only one rooting for the two of you. most of the other drivers know too – how can they not notice the glances you share and the way you light up when someone mentions the other in a conversation? – and most of them are in on his plans. charles is probably the only one in the house who's still oblivious to your and oscar's pining, and lando thinks that he might interfere with the matchmaking if he figures something out, so the brit keeps quiet.

oscar wants to pull the mistletoe down, rip it apart and throw it in the trash, but he refrains. something inside him tells him this might actually work out in his favor – and he decides to trust his gut this time.

‎‎ ‎‎

december 15th, 2:01am

sleeping can be tricky, especially when your brother is snoring loudly in a bed just a few meters away from you.

who even decided to put him and you in the same room?

when you've been tossing and turning to no avail for about an hour, you decide it's time to do something, anything, to hopefully get a little tired again. a glass of warm milk never hurt anyone, did it?

you make your way to the kitchen, pour yourself a glass of milk and put it in the microwave, before turning to look through the windows.

the view of the mountains is breathtaking. there is an untouched, thick layer of snow covering the area, with new flakes still falling. the sun set long ago, but the snow makes it all seem light. the lake below you is just barely visible by now, almost completely coated in snow.

it's completely serene, and you find yourself getting lost in the scenery. however, you're shaken out of your trance when you hear steps behind you. when you turn around, your eyes find someone standing just a few meters away, barely visible in the dark.

you jump in your place and clutch your chest in shock, not expecting anyone else to be up at this hour. when the person steps into the light of the little kitchen lap you had turned on, you relax instantly. "holy shit, oscar," you breathe. "you nearly scared me to death."

"i'm sorry," the australian chuckles. "i didn't know how to approach you without scaring you..."

"what even are you doing up?" you question, crossing your arms over your chest as you lean back against the counter.

"i was just reading in my bed when i heard your door opening, and then footsteps, so..." he trails off when his eyes wander out towards the living room, seemingly just as taken by the sight as you were just moments ago. "i wanted to make sure everything was okay."

"well, everything is okay, so..."

there's some kind of awkwardness hanging in the air. it's not only because of the obvious uncertainty of what to say or do in this situation; it has more to do with the fact that this isn't the first time that the two of you have found yourselves this close with this much tension, all alone at night. sure, it's a lot like the night of your arrival here, but another memory springs to your mind, too.

just under a month ago, following the after-party in abu dhabi, oscar had accompanied you back to the hotel when you started getting too tipsy to keep yourself up on the dance floor. your brother had been nowhere in sight, so oscar took it upon himself to help you out, draping an arm across your waist before walking you all the way to your hotel room. and when you'd arrived in the dimly lit corridor, you'd turned up towards him to thank him, accidentally brushing your nose against his as you did. both of you had broken out in giggles, neither especially sober, but you stayed close – and when the laughter settled, you just watched each other. when his gaze had flickered between your eyes and lips, your breath hitched in your throat, the anticipation growing stronger. you had leaned in even closer, your eyes fluttering closed-

but just as your lips were about to brush his, you had been interrupted. a door a few meters away had opened and the two of you jumped apart, watching as your brother stepped out and exclaimed that he had been wondering where you ended up. oscar had wished you both a good night before hurrying off, the embarrassment of almost getting caught by his friend being too much for him to handle.

you just hoped oscar had been too drunk to remember it, because otherwise, things were bound to get quite awkward. you didn't want him to act differently around you just because you have feelings for him.

thankfully, he hasn't said or done anything to make you think he does remember it.

as you're thinking back to that night in abu dhabi, you nearly get your second heart attack when the microwave goes off with a loud beep. you scramble to turn it off and take out your milk, almost burning yourself on the hot glass in the meantime.

oscar watches you with an amused grin before he forces his gaze off you, eyes wandering over to the windows again. "quite the view, huh?"

you look over your shoulder at the blanketed mountains. "yeah, it's breathtaking," you reply, before growing quiet.

he pauses for a moment, too. "there's something magical about this place. makes everything seem simpler, quieter..."

you nod. "yeah, it does."

something about the moment makes you realize that maybe, just maybe, the awkwardness between you and oscar isn't as insurmountable as you once thought it would be. the shared quietude is comfortable, and you feel at ease. he hasn't brought up abu dhabi – he probably won't, you feel – and maybe you could both just put it behind you and focus on enjoying your trip.

when you eventually get back in your bed, it's with the same kind of pitter-patter of your heart as when you and charles arrived in the cabin a few days ago. needless to say, the glass of warm milk probably isn't going to help.

‎‎ ‎‎

december 16th, 9:02pm

the mistletoe has moved.

when you first noticed it the other day, it was hanging from a kitchen lamp. and now, it's in the doorframe leading into the living room.

you're planning on avoiding it at all costs, not wanting to slip up and accidentally get under it with the wrong person. or the right one, for that matter. the awkwardness of kissing your crush in front of friends and family would be too much to handle.

some others seem to have the exact opposite attitude towards the decoration, though. kika and pierre can be found by it about ten times per day, and alex and lily have no issues sharing a few kisses whenever they "accidentally" pass it.

no matter what, lando has a mischievous grin whenever anyone mentions it, or even walks near it.

his grin stays on when he decides to let himself be in charge of the outing you all have to the christmas tree farm nearby. the farm is too big and would take too long if everyone was going to look at every tree, so lando divides everyone into groups of two based on who they're standing next to as you walk past the gates.

what a coincidence that you're standing right next to oscar when he says this.

lando ushers the two of you off to the rows with quite tall, pre-decorated trees. "so," oscar starts as you both stop in front of a tree with white lights and ornaments hung all over it. "what do you think about this one?"

"well, it's lovely," you say, scanning it thoroughly. "but isn't the true test how well it fits into the living room?"

he nods, despite his confusion, and he shoots a curious glance your way. "and how do we determine that?"

with a playful grin, you hold up an imaginary measuring tape, pretending to size up the tree with a critical eye. "i'm trying to figure out if it fits this corner best, or..."

he follows your gaze, realizing the tease in your words. "i think maybe it's better in the other corner," he hums and points to the side as you turn a little.

"exactly."

lando never inserted himself into a group; he's too focused on watching the two of you share a lighthearted laugh at the situation. though his mistletoe back in the cabin might still have a trick or two up its metaphorical sleeve, he is already proud of his matchmaking antics.

and, he is sure you'll both crack. it is just a matter of time.

‎‎ ‎‎

december 17th, 1:43pm

"i never thought skiing would be this hard," you groan as you step into a cottage, the warmth enveloping you and beginning to defrost you instantly.

oscar laughs at the exasperated tone in your voice. "this was just the kids' slope, you do remember that, right?" you stick your tongue out at him, slumping down on a bench by a table. "you just wait before you do some real skiing..."

you had never skied before today. oscar had, but he said it was too long ago and that he needed an easy start. plus, he couldn't just leave you all alone in the children's slope without an instructor.

you'd fallen over at least five times, despite the fact that the slope was practically flat. thankfully, oscar promised to buy you some hot chocolate in a cottage café to cheer you up.

when he comes back from the cashier carrying two big, steaming cups of chocolate, you've regained most of the feeling in your fingers again. the hot piece of ceramic almost burns your skin, but you think it's worth it; you need the sugar and you need it now.

"you know what the worst thing is?" you ask, bringing the cup up to your face with both hands. you start sipping on the drink and oscar glances at you with a questioning look as he slips down next to you on the bench. "carrying those goddamn skis with me. not only does it suck to actually ski, but dragging them all the way from the rental shop…"

"if it's that much of a bother, i can carry them for you."

"and carry your own too?" you scoff, watching him flinch as he burns his tongue on the drink. "you're not that strong."

he lets out a groan. "you're not even strong enough to carry your own, so you shouldn't say anything."

"i can carry them!" you protest, shooting him a glare. "i just don't want to. two very different things."

you both go silent momentarily, too busy focusing on how good it feels to no longer be frozen to the marrow. the cabin is filled with people; kids running in circles around the tables, soon to be tired again after the initial sugar shock from their afternoon snack; a group of older ladies gossiping and enjoying getting some rest just like you; and some young adults in the far corner are already busy dancing on the tables with their after-ski drinks in their hands.

"you know what? i changed my mind," you tell him, scooting away from him a little and placing your skiing boot on the bench. "these things. they're the worst."

you start to unclasp the boot, sighing in relief as you finally tug the shoe off your foot, throwing it onto the floor. you've only worn it for about an hour, but you can already feel the bruises beginning to form. you're just about to reach down to undo the other boot, too, when oscar reaches towards your foot.

your eyebrows shoot up as he takes it in his hands, pulling the foot into his lap. and then, his fingers begin to wander up and down your foot and ankle, giving you soft squeezes and pressing down on the spaces where he thinks the boot has squeezed you the most. you hold back a pleasured sound, seeing as it would sound way too inappropriate right now, but oscar subconsciously takes note of how you're getting flushed because he soon looks up at your face.

"is this okay?"

you swallow down the lump in your throat, nodding quickly. "y-yeah… just don't tickle me..."

when did things get so intimate? mere minutes ago, you couldn't think about anything other than how you were so cold your nose was going to fall off. but now, you can't stop your eyes from following his long, sleek fingers, thinking about how good they feel and imagining how good they would feel somewhere else-

"give me your other foot."

you're thankful that he interrupts your train of thought before your mind wanders too far.

compose yourself, woman.

"don't tell me you have a foot fetish, too," you tease, turning around so that you can place your other foot on the bench too. he lets out a hearty laugh, swiftly undoing your other boot before letting it drop to the ground.

"oh, shut it. do you want a massage or not?"

you shoot him pout, giving his shoulder a thankful pat before taking your cup in your hands again. you focus on the drink, watching how the steam rises and the marshmallows melt. you can't look over at him anymore, scared of your cheeks growing too red and your face giving away your feelings.

the bell by the door rings behind you, and you look towards it out of habit. and in comes alex, george, lily and carmen, laughing and chatting loudly about the black slope they just went down. oscar doesn't seem to notice, but you hastily pull your feet from his lap, sitting down properly – unfortunately making eye contact with alex as you do. he leans forward to lily, whispering something in her ear, and you watch as her eyes dart to you and a smirk grows on her lips.

shit.

the clicking of her boots against the stone floor meets your ears and oscar turns his head at the sound, suddenly realizing why you withdrew from him. "hey there," lily cheers, each of her hands landing your and oscar's shoulders. "what have you been up to?"

your eyes meet his briefly, before looking back up at lily. "just... drinking some chocolate..."

"oh, no skiing?"

"she crashed too much, i couldn't keep her out there and let her continue to embarrass me all day," oscar tells her and you shove his shoulder.

"do you mind if we join you guys?" george asks, coming around the table and not even giving you a second to think about it before he sets two cups of chocolate down on the table. the grin he's wearing only tells you one thing: alex told him already. carmen's lips show off a matching set.

"not at all..."

‎‎ ‎‎

december 18th, 10:32am

you huff as you slump down on the living room couch, your mood not even getting brought up by watching the newly installed christmas tree in front of you. you hadn't even been out skiing that much yesterday, yet every single inch of your body aches. not only do you have big, blue bruises on both of your hips due to the many times you've fallen onto the hardly packed snow, but every muscle screams with pain as you drape a blanket over your body. needless to say, you decided to stay at home today instead of heading out with the others for another round.

"are you sure you don't wanna come along?" kika asks as she enters the room, her pretty pink sunglasses perched at the top of her nose. the pout on her lips almost makes you doubt staying in, but when you move to sit up more straight again, you know you've made the right decision.

you nod, giving her a weak smile. "yeah, sorry."

"but oscar promised to come along?"

you freeze, your cheeks growing red as you hear her words.

did she know? about your feelings for him? did the others already tell her about the incident in the cottage yesterday? did they really interpret the situation that way?

"w-what?"

"oh," she chuckles at your reaction. "i just meant that he was so bad yesterday, so i thought that seeing him fall over a couple of times would be worth the pain."

"we're gonna trick him into going down a black slope with us," says pierre who walks into the room, arms lacing around his girlfriend from behind. "we'll send some clips."

you let out a breath of relief as they leave the room. maybe they don't know. maybe your secret will stay secret for a little longer.

the group leaves in pairs or trios and you tell them all goodbye from your place underneath the many blankets. everyone has left by now except for oscar, which confounds you since the others seemed to have so many plans for him. your confusion only grows when he steps into the living room without any skiing gear on, just wearing an oversized, cozy hoodie and a pair of sweats.

"why aren't you out with the others?" you question, your eyebrows raised at him.

"well," he sighs, flopping down next to you on the couch. "i can't find my helmet." when you shoot him a doubting look, he raises his hands defensively. "what?"

"i don't believe it."

"you don't have to, but it's the truth."

"how do you even lose a helmet? it's so big?" you scoff, crossing your arms over your chest. "i assumed you were used to keeping track of where your helmet is since if you don't have your helmet with you for races, then you can't race."

"i swear i put it on the drawer by the front door like half an hour ago. i don't understand what could've happened."

you have to give it to him; he is really doing his best to cover this up. you find it pretty obvious that he just doesn't want to ski because of what the others were planning to do to him. but maybe if kika and pierre hadn't spilled their plans already, you would've believed him.

"but hey," he says, bringing you out of your thoughts. "don't feel obligated to include me in whatever you were going to do here now that you finally have the house to yourself." he pushes himself off the couch, standing up and shooting you one last smile before turning to walk away. "i'll let you have some peace."

he takes a couple of steps towards the bedrooms, but then you get the idea. "oscar." he stops in his tracks, throwing a glance back at you. "i was planning on doing some baking, and…" you shuffle slightly in your seat. "it wouldn't hurt to have an extra helping hand."

"i'm a horrible baker, though."

"and i'm the best baker ever, so i guess we cancel each other out." you stand up from your seat, keeping the blanket wrapped around your shoulders as you make your way toward the kitchen. "let's go make some mediocre cookies!"

oscar shakes his head, grinning to himself as he follows behind you. this was definitely not what he had planned, but he sure is liking the way it's going.

‎‎ ‎‎

december 18th, 8:14pm

oscar had not been kidding when he said he sucked at baking.

he put in twice the needed amount of flour, and only half of the sugar. and as if that wasn't enough, of course the mistletoe had moved to the kitchen, making the whole situation quite uncomfortable as you both had to take strange routes while navigating through the kitchen to avoid it. not even your baking skills could save the cookies.

as an apology, oscar promised to buy some fancy gingerbread cookies tonight at the christmas market you'd all planned to go to in a nearby city. he was strongly set on going through with his promise, despite how many times you told him that it was alright and that they wouldn't taste as good as homemade ones anyway.

you've all been at the market for almost two hours now, but it feels like you've only gone about ten meters. your friends, mainly lando, george and alex, are stopping at every single shop and stand, making sure to check out all products and buying at least one thing in every store, no matter how long the line to the cash register is.

"lando-" you groan at the sight of the brit running into yet another store; this time, a shop filled with christmassy outfits for dogs. "he doesn't even have a pet…"

kika is grinning next to you, shaking her head. "he told me earlier today that he wanted to buy a present for roscoe if he got the chance," she says as most of the group joins lando. "makes more sense than when he bought that screwdriver thirty minutes ago just because it was green."

"the power of 'christmas colors', apparently," you hear oscar's voice from behind you, and you turn back to meet his eyes.

"well, i'm not surprised. just disappointed. and cold, and tired of standing still."

oscar points his head to the side, up the street. "i think i saw a stand a little further up that sells cookies, maybe they have some gingerbread ones."

you nod, a small smile entering your lips. "let's go check it out, then. kika, do you wanna come-"

you're cut off by the sound of pierre calling for his girlfriend, holding up a reindeer costume and blabbering on about how it would be perfect for her cousin's dog. "sorry guys," kika says before strutting off to her boyfriend.

you both shrug before walking down the street towards the stand oscar had spotted. the sugary scent of cookies meets your nose from far away, and your mouth waters at the mere thought of the sweets. when you arrive, a sweet old lady sitting behind the stand greets you and tells you all about the different cookies she's baked. gingerbread, sugar cookies with little candy canes, snowball cookies, and various traditional swiss cookies.

"would you like to have a taste, dears?" the lady asks, pointing her hand to a plate with samples. you and oscar take a gingerbread cookie each, popping it into your mouths.

"oh yeah, this is lovely," he says, looking like he's savoring every crumb.

"much better than ours," you answer, nudging his shoulder with yours. he gasps and places a hand on his chest, feigning offense.

you turn your attention back to the lady and telling her you'd love to buy a little box of cookies from her. oscar pays for them and she wraps the box in some pretty gift paper, handing it to you before you continue making your way down the street. the house walls and all trees are wrapped in christmas lights, some blinking in random colors and some with a soft glow of an elegant white. the streets are filled with people wearing santa hats, ugly christmas sweaters, and scarves so big half of their faces are covered. there's not a single frown in sight, the happiness and love so obvious you can almost see little hearts flowing above everyone's heads.

you glance into a couple of different stores as you stroll, stopping occasionally to check something out. when you reach a stand with different kinds of jewelry, something catches your eye: a golden necklace with a heart-shaped charm hanging from it. you carefully pick it up, your heart fluttering in your chest as you inspect it.

and when you look up at oscar from the necklace in your hands, he feels like the air is stolen from his lungs. your eyes are twinkling with happiness, outshining all lights in the entire christmas market. the excited smile on your lips is contagious, and suddenly, it's like the world around you has stopped and everyone else has disappeared. you're both just grinning at each other like two lovestruck fools, nothing in either of your minds other than the person in front of you. the sight of your rosy cheeks from the cold makes the butterflies in his stomach multiply by the second.

wow, he really is totally and fully whipped.

"really pretty," he finally gets out, unsure if he's talking about the necklace or the woman standing before him.

"pretty? it's gorgeous," you answer, eyes flickering back to the jewelry in your hand. "i adore it. how much is it?"

just as the guy in the booth is about to answer, you feel someone grab your free hand. "come on guys, they're closing down soon and we still have a bunch of shops to visit!" kika is pulling you along so fast you barely have time to put the necklace down.

lily notices the disappointment on your face and pats your shoulder. "we'll come back here sometime before christmas, don't worry."

lando shows you the christmas tree costume he bought as you wander down the market again, but oscar suddenly stops. "guys, i forgot my phone back at the cookie stand. keep walking, i'll catch up with you," he says, pointing behind him with his thumb and disappearing before anyone can say anything.

it's a good excuse, but you clearly see the outline of his phone in his back pocket as he hurries down the street.

‎‎ ‎‎

december 19th, 9:22pm

the days roll on with a gentle rhythm of shared glances and fleeting touches between you and oscar. unbeknownst to both of you, lando, ever the persistent wingman, continues his behind-the-scenes matchmaking efforts.

in some magical way, lando manages to get you and oscar paired up for pretty much anything. board game night? you and oscar just happen to get the exact role cards that make you teammates. time for some ornament decorating? you and oscar are the only ones who don't get a seat on the couch, having to sit on the floor together and share all your materials.

funnily enough, it never gets awkward between the two of you. even when you are left all alone, there is always something to talk about, some dumb thing lando has done that you can tease him about behind his back, or something you are curious about when it comes to his racing career so far. somehow, being with oscar started feeling comfortable, natural, unforced.

one specific night, alex comes up with the idea of playing card games, to which only a few of you are actually interested. some plan on going to bed early so they can hit the slopes first thing in the morning, while others just aren't in the mood. oscar said he would just finish wrapping some christmas presents and join you all later, and you catch yourself feeling disappointed that he's not on the couch next to you, helping you win (or taunting you to make you lose). it surprises you how much you're drawn to him, how it feels like something is missing when he isn't around, when you didn't feel this way just a few days ago.

you try to shake the feeling off, but it's still lingering even as you start playing with your friends. eventually, you excuse yourself to get a glass of water from the kitchen to take your mind off things. but-

just as you round the corner going into the kitchen, your head crashes into something hard. you shriek as you stumble, hands coming up to grab the person in front of you as you lose your balance, but a pair of hands wrap around your back, holding you up. when you look up, you're met with oscar's big brown eyes blinking down at you. "you okay there?"

you let out a relieved breath, nodding at him. "yeah, thanks to you. what were you doing coming around the corner that fast, though?"

he chuckles. "what were you doing not looking where you're going?"

"touché."

your hands are still holding on to the front of his hoodie, and you're about to let go of him and walk away when you notice something in the upper periphery of your vision. something is hanging above you. but, it can't be-

of course it is.

the mistletoe.

oscar looks up just as you do, jaw dropping slightly. "oh..."

"indeed..."

you both keep your vision pointed up, as if the mistletoe would disappear if you just keep on staring at it. oscar's hands slowly begin to slide off your back, and he's hoping you'll both just pretend like none of this ever happened. it would be the least awkward thing to do.

"maybe-" his breath hitches in his throat when you speak up. his gaze is on you again, but you're still looking at the plant. "maybe we should do it. just... for the christmas spirit, you know. i love christmas."

you don't even know what you're blabbering on about. you're trying to improvise a reason to kiss your brother's colleague that makes at least a little sense, but you're completely lost. you realize how dumb you sound, and you expect to see him staring at you like you actually are insane when you look back at him.

but what you don't know is that he thinks it's the best idea ever. he is just as into it as you are, if not more. he doesn't look at you like you're crazy; he's just dumbfounded, blinking at you as he tries to understand what's happening. did the girl he likes really just say they should kiss? because she loves christmas?

oscar gulps, but something in him gives him the courage to nod. "i mean," he starts, voice weak. "what's the harm? it's just... tradition."

"right. yeah, that's exactly what i was thinking."

the tension is higher than ever as your faces are already just inches apart. you aren't sure who should take the initiative and lean in, but before you can overthink it, you're both doing it subconsciously. your noses brush against each other briefly and a little giggle escapes past your lips, and this whole situation feels very familiar. this time, oscar can't hold back anymore, so he closes the gap and presses his mouth to yours.

the kiss is quick, not much longer than a peck, but something changes inside you. when you didn't know what it felt like to kiss oscar, you didn't think too much about it. but now that you have felt his lips on yours, you crave it.

he seems to feel the same way, because when you kiss him again, he's pressing against you instantly. your hands move from his chest to his shoulders as your lips move in sync, tilting your head to get a better angle. oscar's touch travels up and down your sides, fingers grazing the bare skin of your stomach when your sweater lifts.

oscar takes your bottom lip in between his teeth and you let out a hum, making him grin into the kiss. his tongue swipes between your lips before slipping into your mouth, exploring it for the first, but hopefully not last, time. you wrap your arms around his neck to pull him closer, already growing hot as his hands move down to your butt.

kissing oscar is so easy, so comfortable. it's like you've done it so many times before, like it's what you were made to do.

you're so relaxed and so focused on the kiss that you don't even hear lando's footsteps right next to you, nor his snicker from a few meters away as he picks up his phone to snap a couple of pictures. you don't even hear him strutting away to the living room, nor his loud proclamation to the group: mission complete.

‎‎ ‎‎

december 23rd, 8:35am

the rest of the days leading up to christmas consist of a lot of sneaking around.

the days are filled with secretive kisses when you're sure no one is watching, fleeting pecks or longer liplocks, hurriedly parting and acting like nothing happened when you hear approaching footsteps. they're filled with soft brushes as you pass each other in hallways, little squeezes of your waist or his arm when someone is around, conveying more than anyone could guess. and they're filled with giant, knowing smiles matching on your lips, with longing gazes and sly winks across the dinner table.

now, his hand is warm in yours despite the freezing temperatures of the air. when you said you forgot your mittens in the cabin, oscar had just smiled, taking off one of his own to give it to you. and to heat your other hand, he intertwined his fingers with yours, his thumb stroking the back of your hand as you walked.

you'd slipped out of the house before anyone else had woken up, wishing for a peaceful moment for yourselves. the two of you haven't really had time to properly talk ever since your moment under the mistletoe, and even though it wasn't outspoken, you both knew there were things to be discussed.

you're halfway around the lake when he finally touches on the subject. "so..." he starts, nudging your shoulder with his. "you like me, huh?"

you snicker. "i have for quite some time now, actually."

his hand squeezes yours. "tell me about it."

and when he asks, you tell.

you tell him about seeing him all those years ago, thinking that he was just a pretty face, a good driver, and not much else. you tell him about getting to know him more and more in the last two years and realizing that shit, he's so much more than that. you tell him about the butterflies, about the sneaky glances, about falling for him.

and then, he tells you his side.

he tells you about knowing of you from your first appearances in the f1 paddock, the curiosity in him growing for every picture of you and charles he saw. he tells you about wanting to approach you but not knowing how, not wanting to come off too strong or clingy. he tells you about how nothing has ever been more disappointing to him than charles's timing back in abu dhabi. then, he tells you about how his fingers had secretly been crossed all trip, hoping that lando's attempts to pair the two of you up wouldn't fall through.

you share giggles and smiles as you tell your stories, and it all feels so natural even though it's so new. and you think to yourself that maybe, this won't be so hard to get used to.

‎‎ ‎‎

december 23rd, 5:46pm

"how are things going with oscar?"

lily's voice makes your heart skip a beat. you had just walked into the kitchen to grab a gingerbread cookie, not expecting her to be doing the dishes this late in the evening – and especially not expecting her to ask you something like that. "what do you mean?" you ask back, trying to stay composed as you strut over to the cupboard, reaching into it for the box of cookies.

"are you going to be like... boyfriend and girlfriend now?"

the box slips out of your hands and crashes to the floor before you can catch it again. did you hear her correctly? your eyebrows shoot up and your mouth hangs open as you look at her again. she scoffs.

"oh please, the two of you aren't exactly sneaky," she says, looking back into the sink. "you know, lando took pictures of you under the mistletoe. and we all saw you coming back from your little trip to the lake earlier today."

"oh my god." you cover your face with your hands, letting out a groan. "oh my god. no way."

lily laughs, washing the last few plates under the tap before placing them on the side to drain. "don't worry, we were all in on it."

"and what does that mean?!"

"lando had a plan." of course he did. "we all agreed to help him out. except charles, he's still oblivious."

"what kind of plan?"

"well, just small things here and there, really." she wipes her hands on a towel before turning around and leaning against the counter. "hiding oscar's helmet so he'd have to stay here with you instead of skiing with us. walking really slowly in the market so you'd both get so tired of us that you'd stroll off alone. and the mistletoe, but that's obvious..."

as lily spills the details of lando's plan, you feel a mix of embarrassment and surprise, along with a hint of amusement. you're suddenly very aware of the collaboration that has taken place behind the scenes, and you take a deep breath as you slowly lower your hands from your face.

"so... lando really orchestrated all of this?" you exclaim, still trying to process the fact that your friends have been actively working to bring you and oscar closer together.

lily chuckles, nodding. "yes, and he's been loving every moment of it. we all figured you two needed a little push."

you shake your head in disbelief, a smile playing on your lips despite the initial shock. "what's the endgame here? is lando secretly a matchmaker or something?"

"he wishes," she says with a smirk. "i think he just enjoys playing cupid when he can." she shrugs, crossing her arms over her chest. "but hey, it worked out well, didn't it? you and oscar seem pretty cozy."

"yeah, i guess..." the mention of oscar brings a blush to your cheeks. "i just didn't expect to have a whole team of co-conspirators."

lily laughs, stepping forward to pat your shoulder. "it's all in good fun. besides, it's about time something happened between you two." you nod in agreement, smiling at her. "now, spill. how are you feeling about all of this? is he boyfriend material?"

you hesitate for a moment, contemplating your newfound dynamic with oscar. a smile tugs at the corners of your lips. "yeah, maybe. we're figuring it out, i guess. it's all been... surprisingly nice."

she grins, satisfied with your response. "well, then, i'd say lando's plan was a success." she backs away, walking towards the kitchen exit. "just enjoy it, okay? and don't be too mad at us. we just wanted to see you both happy."

you nod and watch as she leaves, still processing the directed events that have led up to this moment. as you're left alone, you can't help but smile to yourself at the thought of everything that's happened – and everything that's yet to come.

suddenly, for the first time in your life, you feel thankful for something lando has done. you'll have to remember to thank him later.

‎‎ ‎‎

december 24th, 10:23pm

just a few hours ago, charles was challenged to a snowball fight with the rest of the twitch quartet. and how could he ever say no to them?

for you to fall asleep before he got back would just be stupid, because there's no way he will be able to keep quiet when he eventually he crashes into the room post-fight. so instead, you sit against the headboard of your bed, a thick blanket draped over your body and a good book in your hands as you enjoy the tranquility of the last few moments of christmas eve.

there's a soft knock on the door, one so low you could've just as well missed it. "come in," you call out, looking up from your book as the door creaks open. surprise paints your face as oscar enters the room, his eyes sparkling with the thrill of carrying out a secret mission.

in his hands, oscar holds a beautifully wrapped box, adorned with a crimson bow. "merry christmas."

"oscar, what are you up to?" you ask, laughter dancing in your eyes.

"giving you your present." he sits at your feet, holding out the present to you.

you place your book beside you on the bed, accepting the gift with a curious smile. you unwrap the present, and as you remove the lid of the box and your eyes are met with a necklace, your breath hitches in your throat.

the heart-shaped pendant is familiar – it's the exact necklace you'd eyed in the christmas market. you look up at oscar, a myriad of emotions playing on your face. "i didn't forget my phone," he admits, a hint of vulnerability in his gaze. "i just really wanted to get it for you."

speechless, you delicately trace the edges of the pendant with your fingers. "oscar, i..."

"it's a christmas gift, but you can wear it whenever you want."

you hold the necklace up to him. "like now?"

he nods and takes it from you as you turn around, brushing away your hair so that he can secure the chain around your neck. when you turn back, you catch the glint of admiration in his eyes. "you look beautiful."

you hold the pendant between your thumb and pointer finger, a silent acknowledgment of the connection formed by the gift. "it's perfect, oscar. thank you." you tilt your head, smiling at him. "you're not getting your gift until tomorrow, though."

"just seeing you with this necklace is enough of a present for me. i don't need anything else."

‎‎ ‎‎‎

december 25th, 6:04pm

christmas day morning is for gift exchanges. you all sit around the tree in the living room, giving out presents and sharing the background stories behind the silly little things you've bought each other. you receive a ton of random objects that people had bought that day in the christmas market; objects they bought just to irritate you and oscar. now that you know, you find it quite funny – and seeing charles's confused face as you unwrapped a green screwdriver from lando is definitely one of your highlights of the day.

your present to oscar is, obviously, better planned than most other gifts. beneath the wrapper is a box titled "skiing survival kit" written in big, red letters. in it lies a pair of thick socks (with a note reading "to protect your feet from those horrible boots"), a bag of hot chocolate mix ("for moments when skiing feels too challenging; a little warmth to make everything better"), a bottle of peppermint-scented massaging oil ("you never know when you find yourself in need of a massage..."), and a handwritten letter about how you enjoyed your stay in the cottage much more than the actual skiing and a promise to stay in and warm his chair for him next time he's out "skiing".

then, midday rolls around. the chefs of the group, also known as the few people who don't burn everything they attempt to cook, take their time to make a good dinner. in the meantime, the rest of you prepare some games and competitions, including a trivia, a snow fort building competition, and a gingerbread house-decorating contest that ended in lando letting his competitiveness get the best of him. safe to say that no other gingerbread houses were still standing, other than lando's, meaning the brit won by default. his price: getting thrown in the snow in just his pyjamas.

and the evening? it's dedicated to a movie marathon, as per russell family traditions.

it has all been planned into the finest detail; the couch in the living room is decorated with blankets and pillows, nearly every bowl in the house is filled to the brim with snacks, and mattresses and pillows on the floor for those who don't fit on the couch. everyone was included of the vote of what movie you were going to see, though you had a feeling george had cheated when you were told the 'home alone' series won. especially since it's the one series he hasn't been able to stop talking about wanting to watch all trip.

you're settled on the edge of the couch, a blanket wrapped over your shoulders and your knees pulled up to your chest. you're laughing along with something kika has said from right next to you when you hear a beep from the kitchen, indicating that the last bag of popcorn was ready. you assumed lando would be getting up to fetch it, seeing as he was the one who insisted you needed one more bag, but when your eyes find him, he sits very contently and comfortably a few seats away. he looks back at you, eyebrows rising as you make eye contact.

"hey, you're the closest to the kitchen," he says, nodding his head in your direction. "go get them."

he isn't wrong, but he still makes no sense. "no way, norris."

he pouts. "please, be quick so we can start the movie already."

"you suck."

he sticks out his tongue at you but you've already walked off. when you return, a new bowl filled with popcorn in your arms, you aren't exactly surprised to see lando in the seat that used to be yours. you shoot him a glare, to which he answers, "i could barely see the tv from where i was sitting!"

"oh, but you think i'll be able to?" you scoff at the way he shrugs his shoulders, seemingly to say that it's now none of his business. and when you look at his old seat, you are even less surprised to see who's sitting right next to it.

oscar is looking up at you, confusion mixing into his features. he's been scrolling on his phone for the last few minutes and didn't notice when his teammate left him alone.

neither of you complain when you slip into lando's old spot, though. oscar immediately grabs the blanket in his lap and drapes it over you too. you shuffle closer to him as the movie turns on, the soft fabric of his pyjama pants brushing against yours. the bowl of popcorn is propped up on your lap, and when you reach into it to grab a handful, it touches something warm. you rip your eyes from the tv to see your hand brushing against oscar's. of course.

considering the other touches and kisses you've shared these last few days, it's not even a very intimate action. and yet, something about it leaves both of you giggling.

"so many clichés this trip, huh?" he says, eyes flickering between your hands and your face.

instead of answering, you grab his hand in yours. your fingers slip in between his easily, as they've done so many times these last few days, but you pull your hands underneath the blanket to keep them out of sight from everyone else.

it's a good movie, but it's easy for you to zone out when you feel oscar's hand squeeze yours. neither of you can really stay away from the other, inching closer as the movie progresses and stealing little cheek kisses when everyone is focused on the most exciting scenes. and when you start to grow a little tired, your head instinctively lands on his shoulder as you let out a little yawn. oscar desperately has to hold himself back from cooing at you, feeling so soft and prideful that you're leaning on him, and he settles for leaning his own head on you.

you both think you're being subtle, but everyone in the room understands what's going on. even charles, who has now been let in on what's happened between you and oscar after he walked in on lando telling alex about how cute the new couple in the house looked walking around the lake, can't take his eyes off the two of you. as your older brother, he feels like he should be doing something or saying something to protect you. he wonders what his role should be here – aren't brothers supposed to scare their sisters' boyfriends away?

but charles realizes that oscar isn't an enemy. in this moment, you look so peaceful, so content; like you've found the the long-lost puzzle piece to make you complete. how could he possibly interrupt that?

‎‎ ‎‎

december 25th, 11:28pm

charles is still fast asleep on the couch when you slip into oscar's room after the movie has ended, fingers intertwined and your laughter mixing as he pulls you along to his bed. his hands find your hips as he sits down on the edge of the bed, urging you to lower yourself onto his lap, and you happily oblige.

"look up," he says, and when you do, you're not surprised by what's hanging in the roof.

the mistletoe.

"oh," you start, looking back at him. last time you found yourself underneath the mistletoe with oscar, you had been more nervous than ever before. but this time, it isn't as scary. this time, you're able to shrug, a teasing grin forming on your lips. "i guess we should kiss, then. just for the christmas spirit, you know."

his lips are curved into a big smile. "oh, i do know." one of his hands comes up to tuck some hair behind your ear, cupping your cheek in his palm. "it's because you love christmas."

you can't hold back from giggling, and neither can he, both of you leaning in to seal your lips. your first encounter underneath the mistletoe was hesitant, but it feels like that was ages ago, in another lifetime. now, with his lips pressing against yours, it feels like it's all you've known.

he's so gentle with it, his kisses delicate and tender, and your heart flutters at the feeling. his hands land on your waist as your arms wrap around his neck, scooting in even closer. when your crotch brushes against him, he involuntarily lets out a moan into your mouth, and you stop for a moment to pull away. both your eyes and his are wide as you look at each other, and oscar doesn't know what to say. his mind is racing, not sure if you thought that was awkward or too soon or-

"that's so fucking hot," you say, and he finally exhales. you kiss him again, speaking against his lips. "wanna hear more."

he has no problems letting out more sounds when you keep up your actions, your hips rolling down on him rhythmically. his hands find the hem of your sweater and slip inside, instantly roaming your sides. his cold touch tickles, and when his fingers move along your waist, you can't help but giggle against his lips. he laughs along with you, but he only does it to match you. he's dumbfounded when you part from him and you grab his wrists to make him halt.

"you're too cold," you start, a bit breathless already. "it's-"

"are you really that ticklish?" he chuckles, fingers running up and down your sides again to test you, and his heart melts when you throw your head back, laughing. "oh come on, how am i supposed to do this if i can't touch you?"

"warm your fingers next time and we should be fine."

"next time, huh?" a combination of a smirk and a grin plays on his lips. "planning ahead?"

"well, it depends on how well you perform tonight." he sticks out his tongue at your taunting tone. "just take it off already, will you?"

oscar happily obliges, pulling the material off you before reaching for his own sweater, throwing them both onto the floor. his eyes stick to your chest, to the soft, red bed bra holding up your breasts, and he feels himself growing harder instantly, because this is so much better than he'd imagined. you can't exactly complain about what your eyes are met with, either; oscar's toned chest and his broad shoulders are basically calling out for you to come and press your lips to them. or sink your teeth in them. probably both.

he gives you a few quick kisses before his hands land on your hips and he flips you both around, laying you onto the covers. his lips meet the skin below your ear, and then travel down the side of your neck. he hears your breath hitch in your throat when he finds a spot you enjoy particularly much, making sure to memorize it for the future. and when his kisses trail even further down, they meet something hard and metallic. when he leans back, he realizes that you're wearing the necklace.

he didn't notice it until now, since he was too busy being mesmerized by your breasts earlier; but now, he can't take his eyes off it. the little heart charm rests just above your actual heart, and something about seeing it makes his heart flutter. the necklace he bought for you, the one that makes you think of him and only him. it's like you're already tagged as his.

"cute," he whispers to himself, placing a long kiss right on top of the heart. he can feel your real heart beating underneath his lips, fast but not really enough, and he can't wait to make you feel like it's pounding out of your chest.

he starts placing open-mouthed kisses down your stomach, his hands finding the waistband of your sweatpants.

"you okay with me taking these off?" he asks, parting from your skin to watch you nod your head. he pulls the material down your body, smiling when your underwear comes into sight. they're not a pair of lacy lingerie or victoria's secret-lookalikes, but just a regular pair of panties in a deep green color with little candy canes. his eyes flicker between your bra and your panties. "green and red, huh?"

"well, what can i say?" you smile. "i love christmas." he giggles, and so do you, as he leaves your pants somewhere on the floor before moving further down your body. when his hands near the fuzzy socks with little cartoon santas dressing your feet, you're quick to speak. "those stay on, though."

"oh, is that so?"

"gotta make sure you're not just doing this for that foot fetish you might or might not have." a laughter erupts from his chest. "i've had too much of that recently."

"well, i don't have one, so i don't mind you keeping them on." he moves up on the bed again, fingers reaching the hem of your underwear. "but i can take these off, right?"

"things would get kinda tricky otherwise, i'd say,” you tease, but oscar merely blinks up at you with raised eyebrows.

"tricky, yes. but not impossible."

you shake your head, a grin making its way onto your lips. "next time, oscar."

and there it is again. next time. the way you say it so casually, like there's no doubt in your mind that there will be another time, that you'll do all of this again.

yet again, instant boner.

your panties are off in a second, and he doesn't waste any time before pressing his lips to the inside of your thigh. his hand takes care of your other thigh, thumb brushing up and down your skin, as your lips travel closer and closer to where you want him the most.

you suck in a breath when you feel his warm breath against your core. his tongue meets your clit and your eyes flutter closed, one of your hands reaching down to entangle in his hair. as his tongue draws circles around your bud, one of his hands leaves your thigh, a finger swiping along your wet folds before pushing slowly into you. you don't know which sensation to focus on, both growing stronger and pushing you closer to your limit every passing second. when he's pumped you a couple of times, he adds another finger and then another, pushing deep into you. his fingers curling inside of you makes you pull on his hair even harder, your mind growing hazy and your breaths shorter.

"o-oscar," you let out, subconsciously buckling your hips towards him in hopes of creating more friction. "i'm so clos-"

you're cut off by the combination of a moan and a whine that leaves your lips when his tongue flicking your clit speeds up. "come for me, sweetheart," he tells you, his voice sending vibrations against your core.

your legs shake around him as you completely let go, feeling the climax wash over you just moments after his order. your free arm drapes over your face, covering your eyes in your arm as you try to catch your breath. oscar continues lapping you up, helping you ride it out, also licking his fingers clean before letting his hands caress your sides soothingly. he's unsure whether his fingers are warm enough now to not tickle you, or if you're just too busy coming down from your high to even realize you should feel ticklish, but he smiles at the thought nonetheless.

"everything alright up here?" oscar asks as he moves up to your face again, one of his hands prying the arm off your face. you slowly open your eyes, your hazy gaze meeting his loving one and you can't help but to cup his face in your hands. you pull him down to your lips, lazily lacing them together. he pulls away just enough for his lips to still brush yours when he speaks. "i'll take that as a yes."

you're quick to nod, but even quicker to connect his lips with yours again, not wanting to be apart for even a second.

your hands slide down his neck and the front of his body, loving the feeling of his strong muscles under your touch. your fingers reach down to the edge of his pajama pants, and you let out a chuckle when you notice the ever-growing tent in them. "don't laugh at me," he starts, biting down on your bottom lip as a warning. "you're so hot, how could i not get this hard?"

"oh, shut it," you say, feeling a blush creep onto your cheeks. "just take them off, will you?"

"as you wish."

as he shuffles off the bed and pulls off his own pants, plus his boxers along with them, you take the time to reach behind you and unclasp your bra, letting it slide down your arms and off the bed. when he reaches into the bedside table and pulls out a condom, you raise your eyebrows. "oh, so you were planning this?"

he shakes his head as he climbs on top of you again. "i was hoping, not expecting. those are two very different things." he removes the wrapper and throws it onto the table, rolling the condom onto himself. "do you need anything? or-"

"just you."

oscar presses his smile to yours, kissing you like he has no rush in the world, like he just wants to savor this moment with you. "well then," he says against your lips, nudging his dick against your entrance. "i have to give the lady what she wants, don't i?"

you can't control the whine that slips into his mouth when he pushes into you. you thought you were ready for him, but he's so big and he stretches you out so perfectly. he pauses once he's slipped entirely into you, his lips finding a spot below your ear as he allows you to get used to him. your pussy is throbbing already, still sensitive from just minutes ago, and the little involuntary clenches around him make oscar grow more and more eager.

when he finally starts moving, you drape your arms around his shoulders for stability. his thrusts are slow but deep, and yet you desperately want more of him. you hook a leg over his hip, the other following soon after, and you gasp at the way he bottoms you out completely. one of his hands comes up to squeeze your breast, thumb flicking over the nipple as his pace speeds up. the sounds you make and the way your legs squeeze him close makes him feel like he could cum anytime, but he tries to hold back because he needs to see you fall apart beneath him for the second time tonight.

"oscar..." you cry out when his free hand slides down your body, a finger coming in contact with your clit again.

"just a little more, love." his thrusts have grown sloppy and his figures on your bud aren't exactly perfect, but it's good enough for your orgasm to hit.

your back arches off the bed, your chest pressing into his as you nuzzle your face into the side of his neck to hide your moans. when your walls tighten around him, he reaches his high too, his body shaking as he rides it out. your heart is about ready to jump out of your chest when he collapses onto you, both of you trying to catch your breaths. "holy fuck," oscar starts, his breath warm on your skin. "that was amazing. you feel amazing." you try to gather energy to speak, fingers getting lost in his curls. "you taste amazing, too. better than any christmas dinner."

you give him a weak slap to his shoulder. "shush."

"it's true!" he pushes himself back a bit, mouth hanging in mock offense. "this was the best present i could've ever wished for."

"the necklace is higher on my list, though."

oscar pauses for a moment. "i'm not sure if i should feel proud or offended."

you snicker. "i was hoping for the latter," you tease, but regret it the moment oscar's hands find your waist, fingers dancing along it and tickling you yet again. the squeal you let out does nothing to halt his actions, and he doesn't even budge when you try to push him away by his shoulders. "i was kidding!"

"apologize. now."

his fingers still working their way on your skin make it almost impossible for you to speak again, but you do your best to take a deep breath. "i'm- i'm sorry! oscar- stop it!"

he finally stops, and you finally get to breathe. "i'll go get a wet towel," oscar says, pulling away from you and giving you one last glance. he almost doesn't leave the bed when he looks at you, though – he finds the sight almost too good to be true. your rosy cheeks, the dreamy smile on your lips, your hair spread out on the pillows. he's scared that if he leaves you, maybe the spell will be broken and he'll realize all of this has just been a dream. because that's just how this all feels: surreal.

but it is real, and he can't wait to have you like this in his bed again.

‎‎ ‎‎

december 26th, 12:56pm

packing up after a good trip is always a bittersweet affair. realizing that you have the real world waiting for you, your actual lives with responsibilities and obligations, and that you can't just stay in this fairytale forever – this moment was definitely not something you looked forward to.

you and charles need to get back to monaco to celebrate christmas with your other brothers and your mother, before he needs to go away for pre-season work again. you're meticulously folding up your clothes, zipping up bags and exchanging smiles as you reminisce on memories of the week.

but, things are different this time. you know that the magic of this trip isn't going to stay here – in one way or another, you'll bring some of it with you back to your real life.

oscar.

you've already made plans to meet up after new years, and even when he's busy with work, you know that you'll at least see him during every race weekend. neither of you are ever more than a flight, or a call, away, and you just can't wait to see where this all takes you.

"so... oscar, huh?" charles's voice breaks the silence, his eyes glancing in the direction of your open door that lets in the sound of oscar's voice from the living room.

"hm? what about him?" you reply, trying to hold back the smile threatening to adorn your lips when you hear his name.

charles cocks an eyebrow at you. "you and him... kind of obvious." he gazes towards your bed. "besides, your bed is made. you didn't sleep here last night."

"well, i-" you start, but charles interrupts with a knowing chuckle.

"relax, i'm not going to be a police. just..." he shows off a sweet smile. "enjoy it."

with a nod and a shared understanding, you both continue packing, an unspoken acknowledgment hanging in the air. the group gathers to bid you farewell by the front door, and gratitude fills your heart as you exchange goodbyes with your friends. you grow especially soft when lando pulls you into a hug, a cheeky grin on his lips. "thank you," you whisper, giving his cheek a quick peck to really convey how much you appreciate everything he's done this holiday. he just squeezes you back, telling you not to worry about it.

finally, as you turn to say your farewell to oscar, the atmosphere shifts and the group watches with amused anticipation. "until next time," you say, your eyes holding a promise that transcends the physical distance.

"until next time," he repeats, smiling as you engulf him in a tight hug.

you pull away just enough for your ear to brush against his ear, your voice low. "charles knows, by the way."

"w-what?" his eyes widen for a moment, flickering between you and your brother – but then realization dawns. "well, in that case..."

before you can react, oscar pulls you closer again. he presses a goodbye-kiss on your lips, right there in front of everyone, and the group erupts into cheers.

and the loudest of them all? lando, of course. "if i'm not the best man at your wedding, i'll never forgive you guys."

#oscar piastri #f1 #formula one #formula 1 #oscar piastri fluff #oscar piastri smut #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri x yn #oscar piastri x y/n #oscar piastri fanfic #f1 fluff #f1 smut #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x yn #f1 x y/n #f1 fanfic #mclaren #oscar piastri fic #Spotify

[fortheloveofwonderland]

No Distance Left to Run | S.R

Series Summary - Truth or Dare? A harmless teenage game gone wrong when spoken by the man holding you hostage. And when you’re feelings for your best friend come to light after fifteen years, how will you and Spencer cope in the aftermath?

A/N - rewrite of the Jeid confession with reader. Lots of details of JJ and Spencer’s past have been rewritten. Present day is 2020 to keep in line with canon. Spencer met Max much earlier on. Thank you to the lovely @pinkiceee-prose for reading this through for me and coming along for this journey 🖤

Pairing - Spencer Reid / BAU Fem! Reader

Category - friends to lovers | mutual pining | angst with happy ending | smut minors DNI

General Series Warnings - smut, mutual pining, canon compliant violence, abusive relationship, cheating. Each chapter will have its own warnings.

Coming Soon

Part One - Truth Or Dare?

Part Two - Never Have I Ever

Part Three - Hide and Seek

Part Four - Dominoes

Part Five - Red Light, Green Light

Very small snippet under the cut.

The world stood still. For what could have only equated to five seconds, the world stood still. 

Five seconds somehow felt like an entire lifetime, where all outside stimuli faded from vision, sounds disappearing before they could hit eardrums. The way his wrists and knee and the rest of his body had ached and throbbed just moments ago slipped away. 

The world stood still. All he could see was you and all he could hear were the words you’d spoken five seconds before that had caused the earth to suddenly stop turning on its axis with the weight of them. 

For five seconds, which felt like five hours, he saw the last fifteen years flash before his eyes. Every subtle glance, every tiny smile; every accidental touch. Every word ever shared between the two of you that he’d catalogued in his brain came spiralling forth, flooding his senses to the point he wasn’t sure he could breathe.

For five seconds it was simply you and him and those words you’d spoken at the worst possible time. But you’d said it. And he heard it. He just had no idea what he was supposed to do with it now. 

There was once a time when hearing those words spoken from your lips to his ears was all he had ever wanted. He’d imagined you saying them to him more times than was healthy, so often in fact there were instances in which he actually managed to convince himself you had said them. 

But you never had. Not until now. 

And now he had no idea how he was supposed to begin processing those words, especially in the situation in which you had finally spoken the one thing he’d always wanted to hear you say. 

He wanted to respond, he wanted to tell you he felt the same, he’d always felt the same. For fifteen long years he’d carried his unrequited feelings for you like a led weight upon his shoulders. They’d dragged him down a little more each day, at this point he found he was almost entirely buried under the burden of his feelings.

And then you’d gone and said that and he didn’t know how he was supposed to respond. 

The words were spinning and turning, ruminating in his brain and he forgot for those five seconds where you were and what was going on around you. He stopped trying to cut through the tape binding his wrists, stopped thinking about getting to his ankle hostler.

He stopped thinking about the crazed unsub standing just three feet away brandishing a gun at the both of you, his sick and twisted game of Truth or Dare coming to an abrupt end with the uttering of those. 

“Spence, uh...I have always loved you. I was too scared to say it before... and now things are just really too complicated to say it now. I'm sorry, but you should know.”

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem! reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction

[em-sars]

My Top 10 (actually 9) Dramione Fic Reccemmendations:

I am not a terribly avid reader of angst-filled fics (sorry, Manacled fans). This list will be mostly romcom / fluffy, major slow burns, and Draco POV. I have included a few more serious fics, but they are just so well written / interesting, that they made my list. Without further ado, and in no particular order, my Top 9 Dramione Fics:

1. To one one's surprise, and not being overhyped at all (I'm completely serious), is Draco Malfoy and the Mortifying Ordeal of Being in Love. This one needs no description due to its popularity, so I will only add to the hype. I have always been a fan of adventure-romance (e.g. Romancing the Stone, Princess Bride, Stardust, Love and Monsters, Shrek, A Knight's Tale, and, not to get repetitive, The Lost City), but this was the first fanfiction I read with such dedication to an interesting, funny, and, at times, suspenseful story. I also love seeing Draco fall first and his unreliable narration in Hermione's feelings for him. I adore the characterization of / relationships between characters (not just Draco and Hermione) as well as the way the author develops the existing magic system. It is definitely a slow burn with misunderstandings. I'm not a big fan of misunderstandings after they are together because I think it's lasy, and I will stop reading it. In this fic, however, the author makes sure that the 'will they won't they' isn't over done.

2. A Cosmology of Blacks, Malfoys, and Assorted Individuals. This one is in process, but updates are consistent, and I am hooked. Draco POV only. Not only does this fic have the best name, it also includes many anecdotes of Black history (particularly focused on Narcissa, Andromeda, and Bellatrix) while also tying in a romance plot. The story begins with Andromeda confronting Narcissa, and the Black family to be reunited. Draco meets Hermione again for the first time post-graduation, but something is wrong with Hermione's magic. They slowly become friends and Draco develops feelings. This one is on the angsty side, but it's nothing dark or war-based. It is decidedly cosy. I absolutely love any fic that casts a parallel between Andromeda and Ted and Draco and Hermione (I also love supportive Harry who compares them to his parents).

3. The Disappearances of Draco Malfoy. This is another popular one that deserves the hype. This one was outside my comfort zone as it is fairly heavy on the angst. BUT I think it is a really imaginative retelling of DH. If you are unfamiliar, the author rewrites the end of HBP wherein Draco accepts Dumbledore's offer of help. He is then forced to accept the protection of people who hate him and whom he hates. This is a true Enemies to Friends to Lovers story. It has a mixed POV. This story is full of mystery, suspense, plot twists, romance, and angst. This is another one that explores the magic system in an interesting way.

4. It Happened in Egypt is another romcom adventure fic. It is funny, mysterious, and action-packed. In this story, Hermione is in Egypt on a 'holiday' and runs into Draco who is drunk and has been robbed (no wallet or wand). As the author says, this fic is a love story to the Nile and Egyptian Mythology. Great for history lovers. And while this story is a relatively quick burn, there is still a major chunk of mutual pining.

5. Scary Partner Privilege is another in progress piece, but it is so creative. It is Draco POV. He and Hermione (a no-nonsense-to-the-point-of-rudeness cop) are paired as elite aurors. Each chapter is a different case like in Brooklyn 99 or other cop shows with the overall plot of their tumble into romance. This Hermione is a complete BAMF, and Draco is a darling.

6. Distance is a split POV fic. Hermione is a new Unspeakable and Draco is an auror who hasn't been given a real case. They end up teaming up to investigate a mysterious magical figurine. Another adventure fic set in the Indus Valley. Such a fun concept. Another one that is a good read for history lovers.

7. Lavender Scones and Second Chances is the final in progress story I have on this list. This story is mostly here for vibes (cosy) because the research that brought them together is more periphery than anything. But it is still a sweet story that I am excited to watch develop.

8. Love and Other Historical Accidents is Jane Austen meets Harry Potter. Hermione and Draco get sent back to the late Georgian / early Regency period in magical Wiltshire. Lots of classic Austen tropes and plot lines. It is an established dynamic between them, and Draco is already in love with Hermione.

9. Soft As It Began is a unique story wherein Harry vanished the day after the Battle of Hogwarts. Almost 5 years later, Hermione, with help from Draco (they are investigative journalists), travels around Europe looking for him. This story plays with the story of The Three Brothers and the Deathly Hallows. I just love all the characterizations in this fic.

#harry potter #fanfic #dramione #dmatmoobil #fic rec

[soleilnomoon]

zoro x female reader plss!!! caramel with macaron, fruit tart, konpeitō, milk chocolate, strawberry cake, chocolate mousse, churro, jelly bean, shortbread cookie and cinnamon roll!! and from the special menu.. cake pop, blan manje, oatmeal raisin cookie, ice cream cake, nougat, pop sicle, sugar cookie and brown sugar pound cake. sorry if its too much, i love your blog!! 💘

hi omg so sorry this took so long (i ended up rewriting it a bunch of times); anyway, it really wasn't too much at all 😊💓 thanks so much for hanging around my blog & for being patient 😌anyway, this ended up a bit longer than i meant buttt i had fun writing it <3

3.9k words, fem reader, nsfw, 18+, mdni; lots of angst, but also smut to make up for it ofc. zoro is relentless and a menace, reader is in denial over her feelings & a lil bratty abt it; modern au! feat. suppressed feelings, mutual pining, a rogue sanji makes an appearance, fingering, oral (f receiving), choking, biting, public sex/exhibitionism, other stuff i'm sure like alcohol or smth.

corporate parties are not your cup of tea; the higher ups have a tendency of splurging unnecessarily — overpriced, tasteless meals, pretentious centerpieces on each table with floating candles that melt fairly quickly — making their events stuffy and boring. essentially, they’re useless and the bane of your existence; but you can’t get out of them, unfortunately. the only way to get through them is to drink until you can’t think straight. except, you know that if you do get that drunk, you’ll end up saying something you regret — and, you’re not trying to burn any bridges just yet. nails drumming rhythmically along the counter at the bar, you sigh softly and grab another slender champagne flute. it’s your fourth glass for the night, and while you’re definitely tipsy, you’re still relatively clear-headed.

several coworkers pass by the bar with their spouses and friends, so you smile prettily at them, hoping to look pleasant, but aloof — so they won’t bother talking to you.  when they disappear from your line of sight, your smile drops. feigning happiness is a sport that you excel in without trying; you’re not sure why you do it, but you refuse to let them see the real you. one coworker in particular, however, routinely defies your expectations and has an uncanny way of seeing through your facade; of breaking down your barriers without remorse, ripping open your chest to reveal your true feelings on things. and after every single interaction with him, he leaves you to suffer alone, an ache following afterward, making you want to break things and scream.

if you say you hate him enough times, you might actually believe it.

roronoa zoro also hates corporate parties, and only attends because sanji needs a babysitter for the night. at least, that’s what he tells himself initially, and what he continues to tell himself as his eyes drift around the room until he spots you. he watches you without realizing, a frown latching onto his face when he watches how easily you talk with others, how you actually giggle at sanji’s stupid lines, how your dress completely exposes your shoulders — the skin smooth, soft, shimmering under the golden light, highlighting the richness of your brown complexion. he keeps wondering if you bruise easily, if you’d let him see the parts of you that you continue to keep hidden. the compulsion to mark your skin in an attempt to ward off other people makes him clutch the champagne flute in his hand tightly. it nearly breaks when he slams it down onto the table.

it’s not jealousy that prompts him to get up and walk over to you, nor is it jealousy that has him standing very close and gruffly order a drink at the bar. but, maybe, just maybe, it might be something close to jealousy when he shoots sanji a sharp look that has his friend grinning triumphantly in response before asking you to dance.

in the back of your mind, you know you should decline the invitation; sanji is a notorious flirt that gets under zoro’s skin just by breathing — but zoro’s presence brings about a heat to your skin that you need to get rid of quickly. it’s almost as if he’s capable of looking into the deepest parts of you, and you don’t like it — the vulnerability that comes when you talk with him candidly almost always leaves you in a state of confusion. whether it’s annoyance, arousal, or even anger; it’s really all the same. he extracts them from you with ease and is more than smug when you give him the reactions he seeks. tonight, you refuse to play that game with him; you take sanji’s hand in yours and lead him to the dance floor — he babbles about something or another, but you aren’t paying attention.

jaw clenched, teeth harshly grinding against one another, zoro watches sanji twirl you around gracefully, your movements matching the slow tempo of the music playing in the room. you try to avoid zoro’s stare, but you can’t; it’s impossibly magnetic — hypnotizing, even; almost as if you’re the only person in the room that he wants to look at. the thought brings goosebumps to your arms, makes you stumble as you dance with sanji, and when he asks you what’s wrong, you just shake your head to wave off his worries.

“too much champagne,” you say, the lie rolling off your tongue with ease. sanji’s eyes narrow slightly at your explanation, but his face softens when he sees how determined you are to convince him. a gentleman through and through, he places a small kiss on the back of your hand before releasing you completely.

zoro knows that sanji’s just baiting him, and he almost falls for it. almost. he lingers by the bar, irritation morphing into something that falls out of the realm of his control, taking a solid hold of his demeanor and vision as he watches you walk over. before he can say anything, you roll your eyes and hold a hand up. “don’t give me that look.” you grab your purse and brush past him, determined to get some fresh air so you won’t continue to choke on the tension brewing between you two. he downs the rest of his whiskey in one go and follows you with swift strides.

of course, his presence bothers you, has you pause in the middle of the corridor to sigh heavily and turn around to properly look at him. maybe if you rephrase your initial statement, he might catch the hint to leave you alone. “whatever bullshit you want to tell me right now, you can save it.” your annoyance reached its peak when you realized that you’d suffocate under his gaze if you continued dancing with sanji — not that you care that the dance was interrupted, but you hate how much of a pull he has on you. “i can’t do this right now,” you say quietly, fussing with your hair, fingers tugging at a stray curl.

“you’re always saying that.” he shoots you a pointed look. it’s more than annoying, to say the least, and drives him to grab onto your arm and tug you over to the restroom in the neighboring corridor. it is every bit as luxurious and expensive looking as the ballroom you left behind; zoro momentarily locks the door behind him, to prevent others from interrupting his conversation with you. because he refuses to continue this back-and-forth nonsense that only serves to frustrate both of you to no end.

you don’t know why you didn’t pull away from him before, you also don’t know why you allowed him to corner you like this — but maybe a part of you wants to see how much further the two of you can push one another before it becomes too much. you’re already at your limit, and you suspect zoro is too, even if he doesn’t say it.

the restroom is startlingly clean, the tiled floors shiny and polished, the counters pristine, almost as if someone periodically comes by to clean every ten minutes. you don’t intend to stay in here long, but it’s refreshing to know that you can talk freely without gagging.

“you can let go of me now,” your voice is barely above a whisper, fingers shaking even when you ball them into fists. “if you have something to say,” you start once he lets go of you, “then say it. i plan on leaving the party early.” the lie is meant to light a fire under his ass, to get him to confess whatever it is that he refuses to say, to finally put you out of your misery so you can move on with your life.

he loosens the tie around his neck and leans against the wall. you try not to stare at his throat when he speaks, but you can’t help it. you curl your fingers again and sink your nails into your palms, desperately suppressing the urge to touch him.

“why do you act differently with everyone else?”

the question hangs languidly in the air, waiting for your delayed response; you open and close your mouth repeatedly, irritation returning in full force, uncomfortably prickling your neck, making it hard to think straight.

it’s purely reactionary, instinctual, when you ask in return, “why do you care?” a heavy silence stifles the air around you, brings a deep chill to your body. “it’s really none of your business, anyway.” while you wanted to keep your distance, to ensure that he wouldn’t charm his way back onto your good side, you end up moving closer to him.

before he can control his mouth, he gruffly blurts out, “says who?” his arrogance clearly knows no bounds, but instead of telling him that, you just sigh in defeat, smooth down the non-existent wrinkles on your dress, and walk to the counter so you can fix your hair in the mirror.

if he says what’s really on his mind, there’s a possibility that you might do as you always do: run away. so he swallows it back, tongue struggling to keep the words at bay, especially when you bend over like that. the fabric of your dress stretching tightly over your round ass, reminding him of why he was so intent on being by your side tonight.

already, he can feel his cock grow stiff, painfully pressing against the front of his pants as you continue to tempt him the way you normally do at all hours of the day — even when you’re not near him. and, because he’s lost all semblance of control over himself for the night, he pushes off the wall and stands behind you. rough hands glide down your curves, settle comfortably on your hips before gripping them firmly.

“i can’t tell you why i care,” he says carefully, voice lowering as he presses his hips against your ass, “but i can show you.” which, if anyone were to ask him, is the only thing he can do at this point. he’s terrible with words, even worse with stringing them together to form cohesive and straight-forward sentences when feelings are involved. you catch his eyes in the mirror, swallowing thickly as something prompts you to playfully grind your ass against his bulge. he tries to keep his base needs in check, but inevitably loses that fight as he tugs your dress upward to completely expose your ass. whatever morals you think you have are gone once his hand makes contact with your ass. the slap is loud and hard enough to make you squeal — both from the harshness of the sting and because you like the feeling a little more than you should.

“careful,” he warns, his hand massaging your skin, grabbing the fleshier part before slapping it again; this time, you let out a moan that clouds his vision all over again, where the only thing he can see or focus on is you. “you don’t want our coworkers to hear you, do you?” his words make you press your lips together tightly, your thighs rubbing against one another as an intolerable heat lowers through your body. you grip the counter to keep yourself upright, but your legs are on the verge of giving up on you entirely.

shaking your head — because no, of course you don’t want any of your coworkers to hear what you’re up to, despite the small rush that accompanies the thought of someone catching you in there with him — you give zoro a pleading look in the mirror, hoping that he’ll scrape together some semblance of mercy. he tugs on the flimsy fabric of your panties, the lace delicate and captivating — it rips without much resistance, and even though you fuss at him over it, he ignores your words. it’s less about him ripping them and more about him seeing how damp they were. you want to hate the way your body reacts to him but know that the lies you continue to tell yourself throughout the night will only catch up to you in the end.

you almost ask him what he’s done with your ruined panties but get distracted when you feel his hand dip in between your thighs, thick fingers grazing your folds, arousal coating his fingertips immediately. a shudder passes through you, and you do your best to stifle another moan, mouth straining as your lips continue to firmly press together out of spite. you refuse to let him break down your walls any further than he has, and he refuses to let you take the easy way out. his touch is light, exacting — stroking up and down your slit slowly, coaxing more noises out of you, making it increasingly difficult to keep quiet. when you press your thighs together, he grunts in disapproval and pushes your legs apart. his fingers resume their ministrations, lazily rubbing your pussy as your breathing grows uneven; that ache returns in full force, a slow building crescendo that has you gripping the counter even harder.

your pride prevents you from calling out his name, but your body freely reacts to his touch, much to your feigned displeasure. somehow, you forget just how perceptive he is, so when zoro tells you to turn around and sit on the counter, you don’t think much of it. if anything, your body is on autopilot — his proximity brings a haziness that warps your logic, turning you into a marionette that can only be commanded by him. you don’t bother hiding from him — not really, anyway — but you do turn your face, unable to handle the intense way he looks at you. something compels him to bring your hand to his face and he press his lips against your wrist, leaving behind a soft kiss, one that disrupts all of your plans for the night, the ones where you completely deny any and all attraction to the man in front of you.

chest heaving and blinking slowly you watch as he runs his hands along your thighs, seemingly admiring the plush skin there. a small shiver travels through you when he pulls you to the edge of the counter, but rather than fight your urges, you grab onto his tie and pull him closer to you. surprise briefly flashes over his face, halting his movements, giving you the opportunity to kiss him without restraint. your lips are soft against his, pliable and inviting when he parts them with his tongue. greed consumes him once he swallows your soft whimpers, silencing them with practiced swipes of his tongue, a possessiveness burning through him as his kisses turn fervent and reckless.

a different kind of haziness surrounds your mind, but you don’t stop kissing him — and have no intention to, until a lightheaded feeling spreads. if he had it his way, he’d kiss you all the time — at work, outside, in private — but he knows that there’s a possibility of you keeping your distance when you realize that you like him as much as he likes you. it’s a powerful thought, really, and you try not to think about it, even when he looks at you tenderly like that, hunger dancing around the edge, guiding him to pull away and kneel in front of you. his lips latch on to the patch of skin near your knee, kissing and licking a dangerous path up along the inner part of your thighs. zoro leaves behind kisses and small bite marks that have you moaning shamelessly; when you realize, you slap a hand over your mouth and grip the counter with your free one.

he tuts under his breath at your insistence, shoots you a cheeky grin, and swipes his tongue against your pussy. your hips jerk forward, and he swears he hears you squeak out something like zoro, please. so he does it again, and again, and again. by the time he’s set an indecent rhythm and pace, his face is buried between your thighs, mouth and tongue feasting on your pussy like it’s the one meal he’s decided to eat for the rest of his life. he’s really not much of a foodie — as that’s sanji’s area of expertise for some reason — but, he will say that he’s never experienced this sort of hunger before. your teeth sink down onto the fleshy part of your palm, your cries muffled but still loud enough for him to hear.

in order to tame that part of you, he slips a thick finger inside of you, plunging it in and out, your pussy clenching around it tightly. he watches the way you fight against your desire, watches how you struggle to keep quiet, and flicks his tongue against your sensitive clit. it’s when he decides to slide an additional finger inside of your needy hole, that he speaks again — voice gravelly and husky, making your toes curl. “don’t cover your mouth, i want to hear you.” his words make you choke, and he goes back to ruining your life in the best way possible, giving your pussy sloppy tongue kisses as he scissors his fingers inside of you. you want to curse and yell at him, want to tell him off for how good he’s making you feel. but when he sucks on your clit roughly, a sinister jolt barrels through you, making you buck your hips wildly and drop your hand from your mouth at last. you use it to grab onto his hair for support, riding his face shamelessly.

because that’s what you are right now; a shameless, pitiful mess.

you could blame him for it, but you’re just as much at fault as he is. zoro doesn’t let up, however, driven by lust and other impractical things; he curls his fingers inside of you and you let out a throaty moan, one that bounces around the solid walls of the restroom. if anyone decides to pass by, they’ll definitely hear you. he smirks at that, pride swelling in his chest as he enjoys the way you fall apart around him. your nearly out of breath by the time your orgasm finds you, hips rolling forward, chasing the high that zoro keeps baiting you with. he pulls his fingers out, swaps them with his tongue and slurps your pussy obnoxiously — loud enough to make your body flush, to make you cry out repeatedly, tears pooling around your eyes. so you yank his hair hard, pull him away, too sensitive to take any more. he laughs at that, at your feeble attempts to gaining the upper hand, but you lost as soon as you let him touch you.

your arousal drips down his lips and chin, his tongue darting out to lick his fingers in front of you.

“oh my god,” you say shakily, voice lowered; you watch him in shock as he stands up again. you know you’ll never hear the end of it, but your hands fly out to unbuckle his belt and unzip his pants. zoro lets out a quiet groan the moment your hand wraps around his thick length. you’ve always imagined what it would feel like to touch him like this, to have his pre-cum dribble onto your fingers with each stroke of your hand. you pause to lick your fingers, moaning softly before you stroke him again. you grip a little too tight and he narrows his eyes at you, wraps a hand around your throat, and squeezes, fingers digging into your skin roughly.

“behave,” is all he says before you nod and loosen your grip; although, that’s not nearly enough for him. zoro runs his tongue along your lips, teeth grazing as he rubs his cock in between your folds, enjoying the way your slick arousal sticks to his skin. and somewhere in between him giving you open-mouthed kisses — scorching and sensual, bringing you further under his spell — that he slides his cock into your aching hole, slowly filling you up. his name falls off your tongue prettily, legs wrapping around his waist just as he thrusts forward. he keeps his hand around your throat, holding you steady as he pulls out and slams back into you again. the pace he sets has you squeezing around his cock mercilessly, hips snapping against yours as your back arches. you babble incoherently against his lips and each thrust has you grinding your pussy against him, thighs quivering, as sweat trickles down your back.

it must be pure possession that drives him to bury his cock into your puffy cunt aggressively, his moans turning you on even more. he does eventually let go of your neck, his lips kissing the skin there, your inhale sharp, making you pant lightly. all the teasing is a bit much, and when he sucks on the skin right beneath your earlobe, you buck your hips forward, meeting each of his messy thrusts, thoroughly enjoying the way his heavy balls slap against your ass. your fingers thread through his hair, nails clawing at his scalp as you pull him to you for another bruising kiss. his strokes get shorter, his soul nearly leaving through the tip of his cock when you clench around him like that, which invigorates him somehow, making him pound into you and fuck you harder.

“ah, z-zoro, wait, wait,” you try pleading with him as he leaves kisses on your jaw, but he knows why you’re asking him to slow down — because you’re at the precipice again, and you don’t know if you can handle another intense orgasm. so, he does what makes the most sense and keeps his hips close to yours, angling to fuck you deeper, his thrusts hard, almost as if he’s punishing you for being so bratty earlier. not that he’s really complaining, he likes that side of you — likes the way you constantly bump heads with him, likes how you try very hard to not like him. and now look at you: whimpering, tears staining your cheeks, cunt fluttering around him, squeezing hard enough to keep him there permanently.

he bites down on your shoulder, a moan pushing past his lips when you cum again, wetness causing your pussy to squelch loudly, the noise lewd, bringing another flush to your skin. you hate how much you like the sound, and equally hate that zoro’s left noticeable marks on your skin, almost as if he wants to display your salacious behavior for the world to see. the warmth that you thought you stamped out, swirls back in your chest, making you cling to him.

he keeps thrusting into you, chasing his own orgasm that finds him shortly after. before he can let his lust drive him further, zoro pulls out and cums onto your pussy and the inner parts of your thighs. your dress gets stained in the interim and even though you’ll fuss at him for it later, you just ignore it for now. he kisses you a little more gently this time, like you’re something precious — which brings an additional, semi-permanent warmth to your body — and enjoys the feel of your mouth against his, wanting to savor and bottle up the moment to keep him company late at night. eventually, he presses his lips to your ear, whispers something tragically romantic, that startles both you and him, one he’ll possibly deny later — but you know and heard him loud and clear. you’ll hold onto those words, tuck them somewhere safe and far away from your irritating logic, where you can recall them whenever you please.

and maybe, just maybe, one of these days you’ll stop fighting yourself long enough to admit to your feelings.

#fic request #finally done omg ty for ur patience #milestone event #500+ followers event #🍭✨🍨sticky & sweet event🧁✨🍭 #one piece imagine #one piece smut #one piece angst #one piece x reader #one piece x y/n #roronoa zoro #roronoa zoro x y/n #roronoa zoro x reader #roronoa zoro smut #zoro x reader #zoro x y/n #zoro smut #zoro angst #‘i can change him’ 🥴 #am i sry for zoro's behavior? no.

[yeahimwiththeband]

-> with the band chapter 7 [EDITED]

poor little rock star

warning: angst, pining, incompetent dancing, minors DNI. also deals with people pleasing behavior, anxiety disorder, body image issues, and codependency.

summary: harry and mc get some alone time, thanks to lydia. what happens here has been building up for a while. 

A/N: thank you to the readers who provided feedback that helped me with the rewrite of this chapter and adding in the last chapter, and i’m sorry to readers who read this one before that edit. i’m still learning, clearly. but i have a new outline and have written a draft of the rest of the story, so it won’t happen again! it’s so much better now :) sorry

this is a love on tour fanfic, slow burn harry style au. an angsty harry in a multi-chapter romance about a girl with anxiety disorder falling in love for the first time.

thank you so much for reading. i love any feedback, input, and criticism. i do read all of it. this is my first story post on tumblr. 

word count: 3.4k

Every day for the two years since she graduated, Izzy woke up in her childhood bedroom and started the same dreary daily routine. 

Her parents were always awake earlier and the mornings felt like they didn’t belong to her, at all. She could hear her mom in the hall, her dad shuffling back and forth in his slippers. Izzy always started at the sink: moisturizer, sunscreen, contacts, concealer. The march over to the closet, always a little hopeful that she’d find something that wasn’t as bad as she thought it was—a hope that was always disappointed. Breakfast across from her mother, and then in the store at 9 sharp, turning the lights on, and flipping the closed sign to open. Meg would come visit with a coffee when she could and they’d hang out by the register. Her mom would do chores upstairs while her dad lounged in front of the TV, and if it was nice out, Izzy might open the front door so she could feel a breeze from outside. Weekdays, her dad took the car to work, stranding them there. Eight hours in the store day in day out where they might get two customers if they were lucky, plus an hour for inventory, shipments, and whatever else, and then home at seven. 

Her parents went to bed early and the evenings were her own: Izzy’s time to try to eke some happiness out of her phone or computer, scrolling through photos of far away places or pretty gardens, jungles and mountains she would never see. If she had the energy, she’d try swiping a bit on one of the many dating apps Meg had downloaded for her. She read fewer books after the accident, but she would often engage in one of the three secrets, strumming her guitar while her parents were asleep.

Now that she was with the band, all her time was all her own :)

She was in New York and she could walk anywhere, so she walked everywhere. Canal Street, Central Park, all the way up to Columbia and Morningside, past brownstones and big apartment buildings. People had made their own little gardens, with dahlias just blooming now all over the city, in pots on rooftops and hanging baskets on the street lamps. After going uptown she and Meg would wind back down through the Upper East Side, the only neighbourhood in New York that Izzy didn’t like; it was like its own strip mall, with a Diane von Furstenberg and a Wallgreens on every corner. She got used to stepping on the metal cellar doors in the sidewalk, confidently gliding over them like a real New Yorker. The Lower East Side was her favourite, full of tiny parks and people her age sitting on patios, taking phone calls on their fire escapes dotted with plants, and balancing bags of Trader Joe’s on their bikes’ handlebars. The people in the city seemed to move quickly or not at all; they walked fast, or sat on their stoops to chat for hours at a time. 

Two weeks at The Garden in New York, George kissing her and disappearing, and Izzy sometimes visiting the river in the park to rest and recharge. She stayed out of George’s way, as instructed by Ryan (and her crippling anxiety): she never asked for more of his time, or knocked on his door. George stayed sharp. Ryan eased up on her a bit. Lydia had talked Izzy up to him as a fashion heiress and social it girl. When Izzy found out, she set all her social media to private; Ryan would figure out pretty quickly that the shots of Meg and her at the store alone through the years didn’t make her an it girl, whatever that was.

Izzy stayed out of the band’s preshow huddle—where Jess, Olivia, and Lisa sung a verse of one of the first songs they wrote—hanging back even when Tara tried to wave her over despite Jess’s cutting glares. Jess was around more and more; Izzy avoided Harry, not wanting to hear more underhanded comments from Jess about how he needed to be surrounded by real artists. It didn’t help that Izzy was actually working for them.

Lydia seemed to cheer up in New York too, dancing at the side of the stage every show. Her outfits got progressively crazier (always a good sign); she raided the thrift stores on the lower east side with Izzy, and Izzy picked up a soft cashmere sweater and rainbow shoes that reminded her of the ones she had liked at Gucci (it wasn’t a betrayal of her mom’s business if it was used, right?). Her savings took a small hit, but it was way cheaper than buying new. 

She had finally picked out her own clothes, her own wardrobe. Everything was soft and colourful, and made for walking and dancing. She finally felt like herself, like the person she was underneath the brown dust ruffles that had suffocated her in the store. And George wasn’t putting any pressure on her, at all.

Meg’s shoulders unclenched and she looked refreshed; she pulled long hours at the clinic, and was sleeping now more than she was used to. Lydia, Meg, Izzy, Elijah, and some of Harry’s other band members would hang out in the arena after the shows, playing music and joking around. Harry sometimes played the songs that had been removed from his set list, Jess and Tara harmonizing with him. Elijah tried to teach Izzy how to play his drums, and Tara showed her more chords on the guitar.

It started to feel easy to Izzy. She started to feel like she belonged.

They had finally hit the last show in the city. Austin, Texas was next, and Izzy hadn’t been invited—she hadn’t expected to be, and she knew it would have to end anyway. She had just wanted a night away and had gotten two whole weeks. She was as far away from her hometown as she had ever been and that was plenty. Was it enough?

Izzy couldn’t be dragged from backstage during that last show—not when Meg suggested they should leave early to start packing, not when Ryan asked for the numbers for the day, and not when she saw George bounding toward her from the green room out of the corner of her eye. She couldn’t look away.

Harry watched a banner rise above the crowd to commemorate his 15 nights there, putting his name up in the rafters of the arena beside other artists he admired, like Elton John. Izzy watched Harry put a hand over his mouth, eyes shining, as he watched it fly above him. He seemed like himself then, unmasked and genuinely moved. 

He looked back at her once it was up, and their eyes met; she smiled at him, trying to send silent support.

Just then, George grabbed Izzy’s hand and pulled her away, further backstage, into the green room. Ryan was there, hands clasped together. Meg followed them.

“We found the opportunity,” Ryan said.

“Tomorrow. Charity lunch. Dancing,” George said. “Huge press there. Frick Fall Fete gala.”

“Say that five times fast,” Meg joked. “Frick Fall Fete gala, Frick…”

“You’re coming with me, Izzy,” George said.

“We’ll be there with bells on,” Izzy replied, smiling. “Lydia can bring the extra charger and—“

“No, as my date,” George said, cutting her off.

“Oh,” Izzy said. “Yes. Sure. Frick Fall…” Nervousness started to creep up, eating away and her joy. She had no idea how to attend a formal event, or how to dance at a formal event. Her usual concert jumping around probably wouldn’t do it.

“Great!” Ryan said.

“I’ll put your dress in your room,” he said, before disappearing again. Ryan followed him.

“I’m sure that you can come with us Meg,” Izzy said, coming out of her daze. 

“I’m good,” Meg said. “It sounds like a date to me. Why was Ryan part of it? So weird.”

“A real date would be…” Izzy shook her head. A date with a guy who actually liked her, who she liked back? It seemed like science fiction. “He seems too good to be true,” Izzy said.

Meg just nodded. “And then home tomorrow, right?” she asked.

“Of course,” Izzy replied.

“I have a job and stuff.”

“Yes, right. Me too.”

“One more day,” Meg said.

“One more day,” Izzy repeated. “I should tell Lydia, too. She might want to do some getting ready shots. Where did she go?”

Meg gestured toward the stage.

Izzy left Meg, but she didn’t go toward the stage. She wound around to the back of the green room, down another long hallway, past Mitch, kissing a mystery girl behind one of the coloured curtains. Izzy was looking for George. If they were dating, she should see him more, right? Where did he go all the time?

She came to the end of the hallway, where Naomi and Elijah were chatting, drinks in hand. Naomi nodded toward a closed door. Izzy knocked (she learned her lesson last time) and heard Jess say come in.

“Hey,” Izzy said.

Jess was sitting down, shoes off, massaging her feet. “Thought you were Ryan, with the—“

“You found me,” George said, cutting her off. 

“Did you see Ryan out there?” Jess asked.

“No,” Izzy replied.

“Could you go get him?”

“She’s Lydia’s assistant, not ours,” George said.

“Thanks babe,” Izzy said, trying out the word.

Jess glared at her and stood up. “I’ll bring him back.” She left.

Izzy wanted to ask George where he went all the time, and what they were, but she didn’t want to seem clingy. “One more day,” she said instead.

“Come here.” George pulled her into his chest and put his arms around her, running his fingertips up and down her back. “I know you have a career, helping your mom run the business.”

Izzy didn’t say anything. She hadn’t been held like this since she was a kid.

“But I really like you,” said George.

Izzy looked up at him. “I really like you too,” she whispered. She was sure that saying it out loud would destroy it somehow, take it away.

“No, I really like you,” George said. He kissed her temple, her cheek, and then her chin. “I don’t want to just break up with you after the party tomorrow. I want you to stay. I want you on the tour.”

“What?” She couldn’t believe what he was asking her.

“Stay,” George said. “For the whole tour. Our numbers are up, we’re the opening through all the dates in the US. We did it.”

“George! That’s great!” Izzy said. She was stalling. Her skin prickled and she felt lightheaded. It was excitement and anxiety and fear and the biggest crush she had ever had, all mixed together. 

“Austin, Chicago, Los Angeles. California, Izzy?”

“I’m not a real content creator, George,” she said. “Lydia just said that so I could stay for the weekend.”

“I know.” He took his hands in hers. “I don’t want you to stay on as staff, I want you to stay as my girlfriend. I want to be with you.”

Izzy couldn’t breathe.

“I want to be with you,” George said again. “Will you stay?” Izzy thought about the store, her family. She knew what she would be going back to. The other option was totally unknown to her.

Izzy nodded. Her body answered for her before she could open her mouth. “Yeah, yes,” she found herself saying. Her heart hammered in her chest. “I want to be with you too.” He kissed her. Izzy felt almost nauseous, she was so excited.

Ryan and Jess burst back in, Jess’s right hand clenched around something.

“Sorry,” Jess said, walking around them and settling back down in her chair like they weren’t there at all. Izzy blushed, putting her hands to her cheeks.

“She’s staying,” George said.

“Fine, good,” Ryan said. “Official girlfriends are allowed. Your fans hearts may break, but that’ll only make them crazier for you.” Was he joking? He smiled at Izzy and shot her a wink; she smiled back, surprised. Maybe Ryan wasn’t so bad after all.

“We have band stuff to discuss,” Jess said.  

“Izzy can hang,” George said.

“Can she?” Jess asked pointedly. Izzy rolled her eyes.

“Not yet,” Ryan said. “Not yet. Sorry Izzy, strategy sesh. You’re not on staff any more.” Ryan winked and patted her on the back.  

“No problem!” Izzy said. Her cheeks were burning. She caught George’s gaze just as she closed the door behind her, stumbling back out of the green room. She had to tell Lydia. And Harry.

Izzy headed toward the concert hall, now empty. The last of the audience had left and it was a dark cavern, the floor of the pit littered with confetti. The arena was darker than it usually was, just the spotlight on.

Lydia was in the nosebleeds, feet resting on the railing of the balcony, arms out on the chairs on either side of her, breathing in the space. It actually looked bigger empty and with the lights off; Izzy was awestruck.

Izzy climbed her way up to Lydia, amazed at the sight of the empty hall from up there.

Izzy’s hair had fallen down during the concert and as she leaned over the railing, it dangled with her. Lydia snapped a picture.

“You look like Rapunzel. Or something like, out of Shakespeare.” Their voices echoed in the vast space.

“You mean Romeo and Juliet,” Izzy said. She hadn’t totally forgotten her minor in English.

Izzy puffed her chest out like a goofball and strutted the aisle, speaking out to the empty hall: “My only love, sprung from my only hate.”

“That I must love a loathed enemy…” a voice said from below.

That voice.

Izzy smiled. She couldn’t help it.

“Speak again, bright angel!” Harry laughed, coming out from under the balcony. “Oh, it’s just you, Izzy,” he said, mock disappointment in his tone. Lydia giggled and rushed downstairs.

Izzy leaned over and smiled at Harry. Lydia picked up a flower a fan had tossed onto the stage. 

Harry wore his outfit from the last song of the night, blue slacks and a glimmering tan shirt, now open to his waist. Tattooed wings peeked out on either side of his chest.

“My ears have not yet drunk a hundred words of your uttering, yet I know the sound,” said Izzy.

“I’m too bold; ’tis not to me she speaks,” Harry replied.

“I have no joy of this contact tonight. It’s too rash, too sudden!”

“That’s not how that goes!” Harry laughed. “Will you leave me so unsatisfied?”

“That’s not how that goes either!” They were both laughing now. Izzy followed Lydia down to the pit, calling after Harry, “what satisfaction can you have tonight?”

Lydia spun around the pit, kicking up the confetti on the floor. It floated around them like snow.

“A dance,” Harry said, holding out his hand and bowing like they were in a play. “Would you dance with me?”

“That’s more Jane Austen than Shakespeare,” Izzy said.

“Summertime sadness! Play summertime sadness!” Lydia cried. “They’re still in the booth,” she added, pointing above the balcony.

“He was just kidding,” Izzy said. Harry dropped his hand.

The chords of the opening came on. The song sounded like summer, lush and warm.

“Dance with him,” commanded Lydia. “I must be entertained. I want dancing, you’ve already done theatre.”

Harry held out his hand again and Izzy placed hers in his.

“I don’t really know how to dance like this,” she said.

Harry took her other hand.

“Just follow my feet.” He stepped back and Izzy stepped forward, then to the side, then back to the front, where she stepped on his toes.

“S’alright,” he said.

“Maybe I should practice with Lydia,” Izzy said. “We’re family. She won’t mind if I step all over her.”

“Not a chance,” Lydia called from the stage. She was propped up on her elbows, watching them, grinning.

They repeated the steps again, then Harry put his hand around her waist. Izzy was surprised she hadn’t broken both his feet by now, but the song was beautiful and easy to dance to. She felt totally calm. Harry pulled her closer and they danced the simple box step to start. Harry’s touch was different than George’s: it was deeper, firmer.

Izzy grew more confident in her steps and they floated around the pit, Harry leading her around the barricades in front of the stage and back around the first row of seats. Izzy managed to lift her eyes from the floor to see Harry’s kind smile; he was watching her while she was carefully watching her feet. Harry spun her and dipped her and she laughed as Lydia watched.

The song faded out, the last notes echoing in the hall. They danced until there was no more music, slowing down when there was only total silence left. Lydia clapped loudly and shouted her praise for their performance, asking for another one.

“Thanks,” Izzy stammered. “George is taking me to a charity thing tomorrow, and there’s dancing, apparently.” Harry stepped away from her.

“George is good at finding opportunities to get more press. I’m sure you’ll get lots of good photos.”

“I’m going as his date,” Izzy said. Harry dropped her hand.

“His date,” Harry said. “That was fast. You didn’t seem like George’s type.” Izzy felt devastated by the matter-of-fact tone of his voice. She felt her anger rising.

“You don’t know me,” Izzy shot back. This was true: she didn’t even know herself. Izzy was mad at Harry and had no problem speaking her mind because she didn’t care what he thought. And it felt so good to be honest and let it all out.

“Play Bel Air! Let’s do another one!” Lydia yelled from the stage. But no new music came on.

“Know you a little, I think,” said Harry, a little softer.

“I hope so,” Izzy said, calming down a bit. “I’m staying on the tour for the next few months. Now that Ryan got George to open for you for all the US shows, I can stay.”

“But you’re not a real social media person.”

“I know. I’m staying with George, as his girlfriend.”

Harry took a step closer to her. “Izzy, George is an asshole.”

“What is it with you two? He’s a real artist, you know,” Izzy protested. Harry scoffed. “Is it that you really can’t handle another guy in the spotlight?”

“You don’t belong here.” Harry said. “This isn’t you.”

“It could be.” You don’t belong here ricocheted around her mind like a thrown knife, cutting down the new image Izzy made of herself as a cool girlfriend with a cool job with the band.

“You’d be safer at home. I think you should go home.” The arrogance.

“Maybe I don’t want to be safe,” Izzy said.

“That’s too bad,” Harry said.

Izzy felt a sudden swell of determination to stay on the tour. She thought about what waited for her at home and shivered. Harry had no idea what he was talking about. You don’t belong here landed on her like a slap in the face. Her skin prickled with anger. It was different than the shame she usually felt.

“I’m staying.”

Just then, the lights flickered on in the arena and they were drowned in bright fluorescents. Lydia sat up, pressing her hands into her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Izzy added, in spite of herself. She meant it, but she hated herself for saying it. Harry was being unreasonable, not her.

“It’s okay,” he said. “I love teaching you to dance so you can dance with other men.”

A breeze blew in from outside—Izzy could see the van from the other side of the hallway. “We’re clearing out.” Ryan was at the door, holding it open. 

Harry left Izzy without another word. Lydia followed him. Izzy lingered in the pit, watching the last of the confetti fall to the ground. George was in the van, and they were going back to the hotel together. Summertime Sadness lyrics played in her mind:

I feel it everywhere, nothing scares me anymore

chapter8

#harry styles au #love on tour au #love on tour fic #love on tour fan fiction #love on tour fanfiction #harry styles fandom #harry styles fluff #harry styles fic #writer in training #thank you for your patience

[joesoups-art-archive]

Zira Pup’s Adventure

(Original) (Unfinished)

authors note: this story has a continuity issue regarding Zira (Mud Foot) and Shadow Pup’s relationship as they weren’t always brothers in the canon (though they are now) and also a few of the characters named here have been renamed (such as Dragon Pup) or are in a grey area of existence (Ginger Pup) (i don’t know what to do with her). this is about Mud Foot’s vivid dreams of the past and the past as his dreams show him the death of Dawn Star and the life of Colt Foot (at the time Colt Pup). i’m definitely going to rewrite this one and finish it in the future.

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“Hey everyone look it’s dirt pup” yapped Shadow Pup. There were giggles across the nursery. Zira Pup bowed his head. “Aww is Dirt Pup going to cry” yapped Dragon Pup “Now Shadow Pup and Dragon Pup stop being so mean to Zira Pup” growled Dove Feather. She licked her son’s head and he lay next to Ginger Pup and slept. “Are you okay Zira Pup” whispered Violet Wing “I’m fine” Zira Pup replied. Violet Wing was Zira Pup’s foster mother since his mother abandoned him and left him in the dirt. Zira Pup lay at the round curve of her belly. He nestled into her soft belly fur and drifted into a sleep were a horrible nightmare came over him.

Zira Pup sprang awake shaking violently tears in his eyes. His fur was bristled from the top of his nose to the tip of his tail. When he suddenly awoke Pine Barb and Claw Face we’re visiting there pups. Violet Wing sprung to his aid licking his bristled fur flat or as flat as it would stay. Zira Pup was panting and was shaking so much he felt sick. He fell back he could feel Violet Wing’s soft fur on his back but his vision was blurred and there was a ringing in his ears. He wanted it too stop soon because the pain us unbearable. The she wolves and there mates crowded round him. “Someone get Flame Foot” cried Tober Wing. Pine Barb rushed out the den his foot steps fading into the night. Then everything stopped the pain suddenly vanished his vision became clear and he stood on his paws. The she wolves stood there in shook at the sight of the pup who lay on the floor a few seconds ago in horrible pain arise to his paws like nothing had happened. Pine Barb and Flame Foot rushed in to see the pup on his feet in no pain. “Come with me Zira Pup” barked Flame Foot “O...o..okay” Zira Pup stuttered. They both marched out the nursery into the night.

The forest was dark Zira Pup turned to see the Nursery being swallowed by the darkness before disappearing into the night.  

Flame Foot cheeked Zira Pup over but there was nothing wrong. He had never seen anything like it. Flame Foot turned away from the pup and started to sort through leaves and berries. The den was silent no words were spoken, no birds singing and no stars shining just the frost that hung in air from there breathes. “I had a nightmare” whispered Zira Pup breaking the silence. “You did?” replied Flame Foot “Yeah it was horrible” he said a chill ran down his spine at the thought of it “There was a she wolf and a male wolf and there was a flood and and it it the she wolf went under the water and I could hear the ringing in her ears and I could hear the males cries and howls from above and it was really blurry and she died and the male wolf kept crying her name I I think it was Dawn Star but I could barely hear it over the ringing” “Dawn Star” repeated Flame Foot. “Dawn Star is dead and has been for many many moons”. Zira Pup looked up at the Medics deep red pelt. “You mean I I dreamed of a dead wolf” he whispered in fear. “It’s fine Zira Pup... I’m just puzzled I have never seen something like this” he barked “Let me know if it ever happens again” he added. “Now lets get you back to Violet Wing will we” he said heading to the exit “Okay” Zira Pup yapped running to Flame Foot’s red paws. The dawn chorus sung there song as the early morning sun was rising they trotted to the nursery were Violet Wing lay waiting. 

The sun was high in the sky and the pups were wide awake playing with there litter mates and having fun. Zira Pup lay at the curve of Violet Wing’s belly his head resting on his paws. “Are you not going to play with Meadow Pup, Dawn Pup and Ginger Pup?” Violet Wing asked “No I don’t wanna go playing with feathers” he replied “How about you play fight with Dusk Pup, Shadow Pup and Dragon Pup?” She added “No they don’t like me playing with them they said I was to weak to play” he barked. “I’d rather stay with you” He barked rolling onto his belly to stretch. 

Zira Pup was awoken by Violet Wing that night. He looked up at her to see she was in great pain. “Violet Wing are you okay” Zira Pup whispered “No Zira go get Flame Foot” she barked. Zira Pup rolled out of the leaf nest and dashed out the den heading down the same path he took last moon high. “Flame Foot Violet Wing needs you!” Zira Pup panted. Flame Foot turned and ran out the medic den Zira Pup trotting at his heals. They arrived at the Nursery were Violet Wing lay panting “Tober Wing!” barked Flame Foot. Tober Wing opened her eyes to see Flame Foot standing over her “Oh... Brother what is it?” Tober Wing said half asleep “I need you to take care of Zira Pup tonight” he whispered. Tober Wing looked over at Violet Wing before she replied “Of course” she replied. “Zira Pup you’ll be sleeping her tonight” she whispered making a space between Cloud Pup and Berry Pup “But I want to be with Violet Wing” he barked sitting down. “Come on over” whispered Tober Wing. He was to sleepy to say no so he went over and laid between Cloud Pup and Berry Pup and dozed off. 

Zira Pup was awoken by Cloud Pup fidgeting in his sleep. He lay his head on his paws looking out at the forest that was covered in a light layer of frost and shone in the early dawn sun. Dawn Star he thought Who was Dawn Star? His thoughts were interrupted by a shadowy figure standing at the entrance blocking the early morning sun. “Cloud Pup get up we’re going out” said the figure. It was Claw Face of course Cloud Pup was his son so it would make sense Zira Pup thought. A nightmare passed through his mind while he was awake it was of Clod Pup and Claw Face in the meadow Claw Face was fighting another wolf Cloud Pup watching from the cover of a bush and then Claw Face sunk his fangs into the other wolves neck and blood cover the shore and turned the surrounding water red the words flew throughout head as Claw Face uttered Grey Swipe is dead. Cloud Pup sprung to his feet breaking Zira Pup’s thoughts. Zira Pup pretended to sleep as he could feel Claw Face’s eyes piercing through him. Claw Face turned and walked out the den with his son walking beside him. Zira Pup tried sleeping but he couldn’t find comfort against Tober Wing’s rough belly fur. Zira Pup also couldn’t sleep knowing that Claw Face was a murderer but then he found himself dozing of in his own thoughts.

When Zira Pup awoke he realised that Flame Foot and Violet Wing we’re back in the nursery. Zira Pup sprung to his paws slowly walking over. By his surprise there were 3 small bodies laying next to Violet Wing’s belly. “Zira Pup come here” whispered Flame Foot. Zira Pup came closer not making a noise he crouched down and sniffed the pups “They are your new siblings” barked Violet Wing softly. “That one looks like you Flame Foot” Zira Pup barked pointing at a small red pelted body “That’s because they are my pups to” he replied. “Do the pups have names yet?” questioned Tober Wing “They do” whispered Flame Foot. “This one is Red Pup” Flame Foot said licking the small wolves head “And these two are Chaos Pup and Sunny Pup” Violet Wing barked pointing at the golden pup and black pup.

Zira Pup could see the joy in Flame Foot’s eyes as looked at the pups. Zira Pup lay at Violet Wing’s tail and looked at the pups. My new siblings he thought They would never leave me he added. He soon found himself drifting of to sleep as the sunset over the forest. 

Zira Pup woke up. He had an other one of those dreams. Zira Pup could feel a pain in his foot he looked to see what was wrong but there was nothing there. It must be part of the pain the wolf was feeling in his dream he thought. Zira Pup looked at the nursery around him but he didn’t recognise it it wasn’t the same it was different. He looked around at the she wolves in the den and he didn’t recognise any of them, he didn’t recognise any of the pups either. There was a small hole in the roof of the den a puddle lay below it Zira Pup looked at his reflection. He was speechless he couldn’t even recognise himself. “Colt Pup what are you doing up” yawned the she wolf behind him “W..w..where am I?” Panted Zira Pup “Your at home of course” she replied. “You must be excited for the naming tomorrow” she said softly walking over picking him up and laying him back down. “Dove Pup and Wisp Pup are excited to but you need your rest” she said her voice was soft and comforting. Zira Pup looked at the other two pups the lay at the curve of her belly. 

One rolled over on to her belly the other yawned and blinked. “Is it time yet” yawned the white pup “No not yet Dove Pup” she said softly licking her head. Dove Pup’s bushy tail brushed passed the other pup and she sneezed and woke up blinking. “Well maybe now we are all up we can go a walk in the forest” she suggested. The pups jumped around in excitement. “Ok then let’s go” she stood up and stretched and trotted out the den this sent the pups dashing and trampling over each other to spend time outside the den.

It was moon high and the sky was littered with glowing stars. “Wow look at them Colt Pup” yapped Dove Pup pointing her stubby paw to the sky “Wow” said Wisp Pup. Zira Pup looked at the sky and he saw outlines of wolves dancing, playing and looking down at them. “Those are our ancestors all of them are dead some died long ago others died not so long ago” said the she wolf staring at the sky. “Eagle Breeze!” Shouted a voice from down the path “We’re are you going” they panted “I’m going to take the pups on a walk with the pups”Eagle Breeze told him. Zira Pup had never seen this wolf before he was skinny and was bald in some patches and it was hard to say what his pelt colour was because of the moonlight streaming down. “But Eagle Breeze your pups are due any day now” he panicked “It’ll be fine Breeze Fern I’ll be fine and the pups will be fine too” she said calming him down. “Come on pups lets go” she said nudging Wisp Pup to her paws.

The forest was filled with new smells and new sights Dove Pup pounced ahead excitedly Zira Pup raced beside her. Wisp Pup stayed at Eagle Breeze’s Paws never straying a step from her mother. “Look at that” barked Dove Pup who was staring out onto the sandy shore of The RiverSide Pack’s Territory “We can go there can’t we?” asked Dove Pup curiously “No that’s not our territory that is RiverSide’s Territory” she whispered dragging Dove Pup from the edge of the territory. “Mama look”whispered Wisp Pup. A tall male Wolf was headed toward them Zira Pup fell backward and the pups hid between Eagle Breeze’s forepaws as she crouched down trying to be unseen. The wolf stopped in front of them “Eagle Breeze?!” he tilted his head in confusion “Patch Fur?!” she gasped Patch Fur ran over to see Eagle Breeze who was no longer crouching but sitting up.

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to read the writing posts in chronological order you can find a reading order in this post here! (link to be added)

#joe soup’s writing archive #joe soup’s twodad tag #2019 #twodad’s 5th anniversary!

[twst-campos13]

ah hello!! i'm literally so excited to see a blog for enby and male readers sodjfoijf,,could i maybe request a scenario where male reader is a staff member (idk?? like a librarian?? a nurse??? do they need nurses over there???) and is crushing on crewel but is too scared to confess because he's both Too Dense to pick up any signs of potential reciprocation and also just isn't sure if crewel likes men??? maybe. maybe with a happy ending though because i am a fool,, thank you very much!!

One hopelessly cheesy scenario coming up!! Thank you for requesting! I hope you don’t mind I made reader a librarian who may or may not be a bit of a romantic because i listened to a particular playlist while writing this- (commentary in notes!)

Warnings: none! Tags: male!reader, fluff!

A simple man such as you live a simple life. As simple as life can be in Night Raven College, that is. A prestigious school that holds a student body that can barely tolerate each other. It would be typical for a librarian to be the observer than the observed, but hey, if it means getting out of trivial matters of the school and enjoying the show in your personal bubble, then you have no complaints.

This attitude of yours did come to have its own consequences. You were seen as timid by most students as you were quite closed-off, taking it as a reason to poke fun at you sometimes. You proved them wrong when they step out of line with their fun. Most of the time you choose to ignore them. However, you lived up to your introverted nature, especially when it comes to him.

Tall, dark, and handsome. Approachable but also not at the same time. Sharply dressed and sharp attitude. This man that visits the library ever so often had become your daily motivation to keep on working at this school despite the wage that Crowley gives you.

Divus Crewel, feared and admired by staff and students—also known as the man who stole your heart.

You feel so small compared to him. That would not be so farfetched. He is a remarkable man, and what about you? You are just a librarian at this school. You are like mere dust to him.

Yet, despite this, you continued yearning for him no matter how ridiculous it seems. Perhaps you have fallen too deep in romantic fiction that you make hopeless wishes. You are known to be excellent in reading people but for some reason, you find it hard to read Divus. His perfect posture whenever he would scan the Applied Sciences aisle showed that he is focused on his reading. However, it is his expression you find hard to decipher. He looks dashing as ever, of course, but his thin lips and neutral gaze makes it hard for you to know what he is thinking.

If your life is a novel it would be so easy to know what runs in his mind. What he feels for you. Maybe he could even know what you feel for him. In a story, what makes characters likable is knowing what their emotions, their feelings, their ambitions, and their dreams are, for they are already laid out in ink on pages. Implicit or explicit information, simple or complex structure of personality, it does not matter. You would easily know about them for they are just sentences away from understanding.

And in romance novels…oh, how dreamy they are. How easy they make it seem to fall in love, to confess, and to achieve a happy ending. However, as a librarian, you know the reality of your situation. Your relationship with Crewel is a professional. Strictly, if you were to add an adjective. Is it really strictly professional? Your right brain points out the moments in your life where you interacted with him. At faculty meetings, reunions, at the library…moments like those just feel surreal you almost believed that you made those up on your own. Probably because you initiated each of those interactions yourself.

The only time, where Crewel would come to you himself, are rare. One time he came to the library and checked out a book to read in his spare time. His voice distracted you. It was like cherry wine. Sweet, smooth, enough to make your throat dry and your cheeks flushed. Oh, you could listen to him talk for hours in that tone of his, and he could even make you do anything he pleases.

You greet each other good morning or good afternoon when you pass by each other, and he would smile a teasing one at you as if you two shared a secret with each other. Well, technically you did, for one time you bought him coffee under the pouring rain, and he repaid you for your kindness. Soon enough your coffee exchange became a routine for both of you. It was sweeter than the cream in his coffee. It was more refreshing than the rainy day you shared with each other.

His gaze. His posture. His voice. His smile. Despite those small interactions with each other you are still troubled by what he thinks of you. A friend? A colleague? A special someone? Why is this so hard? Why was it so easy to fall in love? And when things could not get worse for you, your left brain argued that he might not be interested to mingle with a man.

Well, you could find out for yourself, but that would be creepy. Your workspace is in the library! You could not just leave when you please just so you can observe him. You could not use the staff files to your advantage—that is being a borderline stalker. Whatever Crewel’s orientation is, is his to keep and his to disclose to you. Oh, but still. If this were a novel, you could easily analyze the situations that give off evidence of him liking men. Or liking someone like you.

If that were the case you would not have a hard time trying to decipher his words, his gaze, his tone, and his actions towards you. If that were the case…if that were the case…then…well, there’s no then. Divus Crewel is not a fictional character to analyze. He is your coworker, your colleague.

It is hard to know what he thinks of you, at all. You really wished that you could…but the thought of knowing what he thinks to scare you, as well.

Rejection is not that far from reality. Who are you compared to him again? A nobody. A simple, ‘timid’, librarian that enjoys reading romantic and fiction novels and inserts himself in scenarios he makes up for himself just so he can…find the happiness he wishes to have.

But Divus is your happiness. Became your source of happiness. Ironic how he colors the muted floor of the library with his monochromatic appearance. Maybe it is better that you keep your feelings to yourself. You avoid the risk of rejection and humiliation as well as ruining whatever it is your current relationship with Crewel is.

You barely registered the visitor in front of your desk until a familiar red leathery gloved hand rested atop of yours. The contact of the leather sent a spark of electricity through you that you snapped your head up to meet alluring silvery blue eyes. There is only one person in this college that owns those distinct, beautiful, silvery blue eyes.

Divus.

“Have I interrupted your moment of peace, sir?” He asked in that cherry wine voice of his. It made your throat dry up and your face warm. “N-No—no!” You squeaked, shaking your head to brush off the embarrassment. Quickly, you fixed your composure and appeared presentable. As presentable as you could be under his stare that is. You just hope that he found some amusement in your haste. “D-Div—Mr. Crewel, what can I do for you?” You smiled as you speak in a professional tone. The edge of his lips curled into a familiar smirk and still you could not determine what was running through his mind at the moment.  

“I came to return the book I borrowed last week,” he said, placing down the novel on your desk. Sense and Sensibility. Jane Austen. Right, he borrowed that last week. It is not your place to judge whatever it is he desires to read. “Of course,” you nodded, “did you enjoy reading it?” You started on a small talk as you take out your logbook for the check-ins and outs of books. “Somewhat,” Crewel shrugged, “I had my eyes set on another book I would like to borrow.”

“Oh? What is it? I’ll go get it for you.” You stood up after sliding the logbook back to its drawer. Crewel did not leave from where he was standing. His eyes were simply on you. You had to hide your nervousness under his gaze. “I had my eyes on it ever since that rainy day, when you offered me shelter in the library until the rain passes,” he mused. “General fiction, I believe, was the genre.”

“If that’s the case then you better tell me the title,” you joked, taking a stool to the genre’s aisle. “Are you certain you can find it?” Crewel coolly challenged. You almost laughed but did not fight the smile on your lips. “Mr. Crewel, I spend most of my time in this library. I know every book and I still have the Dewey Decimal system memorized…” You kept your eyes distracted by scanning the spines of the books on the shelves. You are aware that he is still looking at you that is why you refused to look back at him. You are not sure what will happen if you look back at him while conversing.  

“If that is the case—” why does he suddenly sound a bit close? “—may you find ‘How to Ask your Dense Colleague Out to Dinner?’”

What a lengthy title. It sounds very basic and almost like a rule book than a novel. Well, that is General Fiction for you. Though you are quite unsure if such a book exists in the library. “Hm…” you hummed, a finger on your chin, as your eyes scanned the shelves. “I don’t think I have that here…Crowley pays me enough to support my rent and meals, but not enough to buy new books. Plus, the students…”

You heard him chuckle beside you and fought the urge to turn to him. “I believe I was not frank enough. Ah, well, I will put all subtleties aside, then…”

His warm breath tickling your skin was what made you finally turn to him. The proximity of your noses startled you that you nearly stumbled out of your stool if it were not for Divus’ hand grabbing yours to pull you to him. You gasped, shocked, as you landed close to his chest. His other hand supported your waist, and your eyes widened his silvery blues. You can feel your heart hammering against his. Your legs feel like putty when he gave you that teasing smirk. Your name—your first name—sounds surreal from his lips. Your entire world was a confusing mix of vertigo and bright lights.

“Will you go to dinner with me?”

You stared. You stammered. You are flabbergasted and flustered. You were unsure how to react to such a forward question that your brain completely shut down. But you cannot embarrass yourself—you must not. Not when…not when…not when…!

Oh, he will he stop saying your name with such sentiment?

“Is your silence a rejection or a consideration?” He rose a brow and your face flushed even more. “No! I mean yes—I mean—no, it isn’t a rejection—”

“Then you have been anticipating this?”

“Divus!”

He laughed. He laughed at your state. He laughed at your awkwardness. But most importantly his laugh sounds so pleasant. Like he was teasing you and you liked him teasing. You grew shy, averting your gaze from his and fidgeting with your fingers. “I mean…I mean…why?”

Crewel stopped laughing and looked at you. “Why what?”

“Why…me? Out of all people?” You asked as fear and denial keep you from grasping the fact that this is all real and not another scenario you made up during rainy days. Crewel’s face remained passive. Neutral. It was eating at your heart and you just wish what is going through his mind.

“Is it not obvious, puppy?” He raised a brow at you. The hand holding your wrist now tilted your chin in his direction. “It is not by fate or destiny, but a mere law that dictates the gravitational pull of similar atoms that is programmed by the need to chemically bind together.”

You suddenly felt stumped. “W—What?”

“I like you, puppy,” Crewel clarified, adoring the way your confusion turned to pure surprise, “and I would like to have dinner with you. Perhaps another, if the first went well.”

You need some time to process this. Your head felt so light you might pass out in his arms. Actually, you would not mind that in the slightest. His coat is just so soft it feels like heaven. A proper response of agreement failed to come to your mind so instead, you asked him again, “And what if the first does not end well?”

Crewel smiled at you. “Then we shall try again with the next dinner. Mind you, puppy, as a man of science, I am not afraid of failure if trying means more chances of perfecting my goal.”

“And what’s that goal?” You asked and physically stopped yourself from combusting when he leaned closer to you that your noses touch and you smell his cologne, and his bold scent.

“The goal to become yours.”

#fullcowling #divus crewel #divus crewel x reader #twisted wonderland #twst #twst divus crewel #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland imagines #twst x reader #HAFHAEUFAFEFEU #I KEEP TYPIING CROWLEY INSTEAD OF CREWEL SO IT ENDED UP BEING DIVUS CROWEY #AFJEIFIEFFIAEG #this is longe rthan i expected #actually i cannot physically write short scenarios unless i rewrite it over and over #i dont think this is 1500 words either #the vil catboy fic wasnt 1500 words either but it was close #i wrote that three times #this was just written once #and i feel like if i rewrite it the pining will just disappear!!! #i listened to a playlist for homeless romantic by ssilvics on yt

[seoafin]

r.i.p. 2 my youth

pairing: geto suguru x fem!reader x gojo satoru / ieiri shoko & reader word count: ~10k LMAO warnings: HI arc spoilers, mildly dubious consent, pining, non-chronological, mentions of substance abuse, PTSD, love triangle but the kind where everyone’s in love and gay and also mentally ill and in need of therapy rating: T (read on ao3)

yes this is the (unusually long but improved!) rewrite

“You’re late,” Satoru comments, rubbing his cheek, as you walk onto the floor of the building Suguru had texted the location of to you. “Missed all the fun too.”

“What happened?” You ask, eyeing the red bruise on his face. You doubt it’s a battle related injury. You had seen the photos of the incapacitated members of Q.

“The Star Plasma brat happened,” he grumbles, aiming a nasty look at the middle of the room.

Suguru sighs, greeting you with a smile. “You had it coming. As always with you, no tact at all.”

There’s a barely discernible twitch. Satoru’s voice takes on a goading tone. “I’d rather get slapped then have someone tell me I have the face of a liar—”

You quickly turn towards the two other figures in the room, gaze settling on an older woman in her late 20s, and a girl not much younger than you by the couches. 

It isn’t difficult to pick out the Star Plasma Vessel.

The uneasy feeling that’s followed you from Yaga-sensei’s office grows as you prepare to introduce yourself. 

For the sake of Master Tengen, the very foundation of Jujutsu society. She's the Star Plasma Vessel, but also just a girl. Proceed carefully.

As always, with his roundabout words, it wasn’t difficult to discern the true meaning of his words. You still have your doubts.

She is just a girl though. You watch her happily chatting with her caretaker, smiling brightly. The strap of your katana sheath digs into your shoulder, heavy. You wonder if there’s a difference between escorting the Star Plasma Vessel to her death or killing her yourself. 

You are taken from your thoughts when the girl launches into a long monologue about the upcoming merger, old fashioned words spoken in a way you thought you’d never hear from a fourteen year old girl. Eccentricity is nothing new to you. But Satoru and Suguru pointedly ignore her, instead focusing their attention on Satoru’s new lock screen of Waka Inoue. 

“—Gah!” A finger is pointed in your direction. “How long have you been standing there!?”

You blink. Two sets of wide eyes are set on you, and you force a smile. 

Controlling your cursed energy had always come easy to you in a way that was inherent. You were used to the various exclamations of surprise once people noticed your presence. It wasn't as if you tried to conceal yourself on purpose, sometimes you just…disappeared from focus, like a camera choosing to zoom in on another given point. It was inexplicable. And of course, jujutsu sorcerers had an easier time identifying your cursed energy than civilians.

You theorized that the minimization of your presence was due to the sheer force of Suguru and Satoru’s own cursed energies blanketing your own. 

Introducing yourself is easier than you would have thought. You had been practicing it on your way to the designated meet up point. “And your name is…?”

She pushes herself up, deeming you adequate in the process, because she flashes you a grin, wide and mischievous, and all too reminiscent of a certain white haired boy you know in all his annoying glory. You decide immediately that you like her, and your heart hurts all the more for it.

"The name's Riko, Amanai Riko!” 

“Misato Kuroi,” the woman in the maid uniform says politely, with a smile.

“Are you a Jujutsu sorcerer too?” Riko asks, curiously peering at your katana. “They sent another one?”

“Something like that,” You reply. You put a hand on your hip with a short sigh, and a teasing grin curls your lips. “You see, I’m babysitting.”

At your comment, two heads whip in your direction.

“That’s a little…”

“It’s obviously your fault, Suguru!”

“Speak for yourself. Who forgot the veil this morning again?”

“Who knows, Shoko?”

“Don’t be dense—”

You raise your hand as your cursed energy envelopes it. As it happens, you don’t think this building could survive the full brunt of Satoru and Suguru’s tempers. Suguru’s handpicked curses could easily be large enough to decimate the building. Satoru’s infinity could easily crumble the ceiling, killing you all with the falling debris. 

They fall silent, eye your hand, and take a step back.

Riko shakes her head. “It must be hard,” she says sympathetically. “Dealing with those two weirdos.” She brightens. “You can call me Riko!”

“Who’re you callin’  weird—”  

 The door slides open into one of the many empty classes on the campus of Jujutsu Tech, in a building commonly used for storage, far away from the main entrance of the school. Large box and stacked chairs and a few desks surround you as you conceal yourself in the far corner of the room.

You hadn’t anticipated any visitors.

“Shoko’s looking for you. Something about a—”

You are situated right underneath the large window overlooking the training grounds, knees stuck close chest, eyes red with unshed tears. He stills, hand still on the handle of the door.

“Not right now,” you mutter, burying your head into your knees, eyelids digging into bone in an attempt to hide your sorry appearance. You’re embarrassed. You want nothing more to disappear into the floorboards.

In the end, he  always  finds you. A sixth sense that leads him to wherever you’ve gone out for the night, unable to stomach the way sleep evades you on the Jujutsu Tech campus. The swings in the park across your old childhood home; the crowded streets of Shinjuku; the izakaya you had been the only customer in until Satoru had ducked underneath the noren and slid into the seat next to you, legs bumping against yours in a silent greeting, right before asking for sugar water like it was the most normal thing in the world at two in the morning.

You clear your throat to wrest back some semblance of control in the guise of a steady voice. “There’s a lot of people on campus today.”

You aren’t as attuned to the news and the ongoings of jujutsu society anymore, preferring to take your missions and keep your head down. However today you can feel them sprawled around campus, auxiliary managers and jujutsu sorcerers and monks and people in expensive suits, all accompanied by their own distinct cursed energy, and all at once suffocating panic grips you by the throat and refuses to die down.

“Some important meeting with the higher ups.” Satoru replies, stepping into the room and quietly closing the door. “Yaga-sensei’s being more uptight than usual. That promotion’s really gone to his head.” Sliding his hands into his pockets, he huffs. “Got a lecture for ‘forgetting my manners’ by some old geezer who looks like a pile of bones.” A hint of noticeable irritation bleeds through, though you can tell it isn’t aimed towards you or Yaga-sensei.

It’s the frustration that’s been stewing in his gut, gnawing at him, staring at the space you previously occupied long after you’ve turned down his offer to the city and everything else for the third, fourth, fifth, time and retreated to the privacy of your room, miserable. You  and  Suguru both. It feels half like an amputated arm, half like blindly groping in the dark, trying to navigate the best way to the exit.

Except there is no exit. There are no right words. Nothing he can say.

“Is Shoko…” you raise your head, hesitant. “Is it urgent?”

He shrugs, making himself comfortable against the wall parallel from you. “Nah, she’s busy now in the morgue anyway.”

You squeeze your eyes shut and release a wobbly exhale. Funeral after funeral, nightmare after nightmare, sometimes you have to convince yourself that your waking reality is just that: reality. Not another nightmare. Sleep is a fruitless task, nightmares invading the usual restless sleep. Darkness becomes Riko’s unmoving body in Satoru’s arms, and then the gleam of dark eyes, feral with bloodlust in its depths up close. It’s a blur when he plunges an unassuming, uneven blade into your abdomen and violently twists.

It hadn’t been as quick as you would’ve liked, if you’re being honest.  But when has being a jujutsu sorcerer meant choosing how to die? You had dodged, twisting your body in a pivot at the last second and had maneuvered out of what would have been an instant fatal wound. The resulting wound had still been nearly fatal, but slower. Delirious with pain, you had thought yourself dead anyway. 

You remember blearily waking in an infirmary, Shoko sitting bedside, chewing on a cigarette she hadn’t bothered to light. The nightmares started days later, once the bitter mouthful of shock and grief had fully digested and settled, poisoning your bloodstream.

A few weeks of reprieve had been granted once you began working again, but now the nightmares have returned with a fierce vengeance, and nights have become unfathomably endless, days blurring into nights in a blink of an eye. You’ve taken to crawling into bed with Shoko for the time being, her warm hands threading through your hair and petting you to sleep. The well meaning alcohol she had originally offered you in small amounts as a short term solution has verged onto dependence. The burn of the alcohol scrapes down your throat, stings your eyes with tears that refuse to fall. You succumb to exhaustion, and the cycle repeats.

People died. You couldn't be a Jujutsu sorcerer and not be prepared for the inevitable death that would always follow. Every step you took marked a fresh grave, another worldly burden, and yet Amanai Riko’s feels the heaviest of them all.

There hadn’t even been a funeral.

In the end, there is nothing left of the fallen star plasma vessel but a blood-stained floor and leaking brain fluids nobody had even bothered to clean. Does Satoru know? Does Suguru know? It feels like rubbing alcohol on a constantly open wound. You barely remember more than the rattling metal elevator taking you back up to the surface, stumbling onto the grass with legs that refused to work as you dry heaved onto the ground. In the end, the bucket of water you had taken down was left abandoned.

It’s been one year. Amanai Riko’s childlike glee and bright eyes haunt your dreams along with a white beach with sand so bright you squint to look directly at it. You are wracked by your own selfish guilt, and held hostage by memories of a girl you wanted more for.

It’s been a year, and the three of you have long settled back into normalcy, but nobody says her name.

You half expect Satoru to poke fun like you’re used to, make a face, throw out an exaggerated sigh, —you're no fun when you're wallowing— but he's uncharacteristically silent, hands tucked into his pockets as he surveys you with an inscrutable expression through black shades.

"Do you think she was scared?" You stare at the floor, feeling the pressure of another migraine exploding at your temples. Your vision blurs. You squeeze your arms around your legs. You had never inquired into it before, never said a word, too scared of making Suguru relive unwanted memories. "Do you think she suffered?”

You’re still afraid to say her name, afraid to form her name on her lips like you might call out a curse. 

"Suguru said it was a bullet." His face devoid of its usual slapstick humor, almost mellow, gaze shifting towards the window above you. It feels like he’s been waiting for you to ask. “Quick and easy.”

At least she didn’t suffer. At least it was quick.

In the end, it’s all you can ask for. Nothing else. It’s all you’re afforded as a jujutsu sorcerer, for a select lucky few; the bare minimum.

But Riko hadn’t been a jujutsu sorcerer. She had been a girl with aspirations for the future that had beaten down until only the Star Platinum Vessel was left.

You think of glassy, empty eyes, bloodied twin plaits, and a shadow of a cheeky grin. It wasn't as if Riko's death had suddenly opened your eyes to your own fallibility. You harbored no illusions about your abilities. Anyone else would have wilted in the face of Satoru and Suguru's raw strength, but you couldn't care less. Being the strongest or aspiring to be stronger was never at the forefront of your priorities. You simply went along, if not at their pace, then your own, just the way it had been for the majority of your life. No other option but one foot in front of the next in the path you had paved yourself.

It must have been worse for Satoru and Suguru, the two of them, always the best, the  strongest,forced to confront their own mortalities in a traumatizing, cruel manner. Things had changed. In a way, all three of you had. Both of them were always difficult to read in their own way, but it was impossible not to contend with the change in the atmosphere when it loomed over the entire class. Two larger than life personalities now subdued. One quiet. Another dispirited.

“No point in worrying about things out of your control.” He’s right, of course. You wish you could stop thinking altogether.

Crossing his arms to lean back against the wall, the movement is almost lazy. His eyes give him away. You don’t know when he took off his sunglasses, but his gaze faintly pulsates in the dark, intensifying. You stare at him.

There's a relaxed quality to his posture, like all the time in the word is afforded to him. “You don't need to worry about anything like dying. I won't let anything happen to you," he says quietly, and it sounds like a promise.

You wait for the punchline. The part where he laughs it off as a joke, and then tells you to snap yourself out of it in a way you would’ve expected from him in the past. But he’s dead serious.

You break off eye contact, casting your gaze back to the floor, resigned.

"I'm not afraid of dying, Satoru.” Your eyes grow heavy. “Weaklings like me accept the lot we’re given.” You’re unsure if he understands. You don’t expect him to. Or Suguru too for that matter. "We're a lot closer to death than most, you know."

There were worse things than death. Of that you were certain. It was a visceral realization that wrenched your vulnerabilities into the open. Instead of the incomprehensible concept of death in the far distant future, for you death was on the forefront of your existence every day, even assured.

Dying hadn’t been so bad. But the knowledge of having lost those you cherished was crushing. 

"The Gojo brat?" A deceptively nonchalant shrug. "Just killed him. His corpse should still be warm."

“I wasn’t scared…when he stabbed me.” It feels good to finally say it. You felt nothing at your own impending death, and you think you should be scared at your apathy. You continue. "I thought, 'so this is it.’ I thought..."

I thought he killed you. And I was terrified because I didn't want to live without you or Suguru. 

His finger twitches, a slight movement you don't catch.

“Sometimes I dream…and then I hear it.” Your whisper is barely discernible. “I hear them… clapping…” Over and over again. The striking of palms together like bolts of thunder cracking in your ear. You stare at nothing, and think this is where you should be crying. Angry. 

His face is expressionless, voice toneless. He looks at you. “Maybe I should have just killed them.”

The words carry an intensity that reverberates in your bones, carves a space into them and burrows. An idea that spreads and invades your bloodstream, resurfacing on sleepless nights where you stare into the darkness and wait. And you think, unflinchingly, that yes, he would’ve done it.

Would you have let him? Let Suguru?

Yes, you think so. 

“In the end, it wouldn’t have done anything,” and that you’re sure of. The world moves on. There is no place for your pain in the grand scheme of things. You know this.

You know this.

“Maybe not,” he says slowly, eyes alight. “But it would’ve made you and Suguru feel better.”

Satoru’s bloodied figure; a corpse in his arms. At that moment, you didn’t know which one had died. Both of them, you would learn later. You turned your back amidst the smiling, clapping, cultists. You couldn’t bear to look at them a second longer. 

Let’s go.

You stare at him, and he stares back evenly. In the silence, something flickers across his face in the dawning sun and it looks like hesitation. He looks away.

He shifts on his feet. "It's not your fault. Or Suguru's either. I messed up." It sounds practiced. Or maybe he’s been repeating the words over and over in his head in an attempt to articulate the words. You wonder if this is an apology. Satoru doesn’t apologize. Not like this. You decide that you hate it.

You rise, in a sudden surge of anger. It’s more than you’ve felt in months. You don’t think, just move. When you reach him, your hands fist in his outer jacket.

Your head is bowed. “Don’t say that.” His uniform is tight in your clenched hands. He makes no motion to move. “You and Suguru too…” Your tongue bleeds when your teeth come down on it. Your vision is blurry when you look up at him.

“If it’s your fault, then it’s mine too.” And that you’re absolutely sure of. It wasn’t fair to mete out blame, especially when you knew Satoru would easily take your share, and Suguru’s too. 

You don't realize your hands are shaking until his larger ones cover yours lightly. He doesn’t say anything else, but holds you silently.

“What’s with the long face?” Satoru asks as you gaze into the pool, legs submerged in the clear water. Renchoku Girls’ Junior High is nice and quaint, nestled within the safety of a relatively wealthy and isolated area. You can’t imagine anything out of the norm happening here, where it feels as if time passes with a stillness that keeps at its own pace.

You blink, looking up at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He makes a face, as if the very expectation of having to explain himself is too taxing. Suguru is gone, having lost the round of rock paper scissors in which the loser would buy drinks from the school’s vending machine, and Kuroi had offered her help with the drinks. Without Suguru, Satoru’s patience has been cut roughly in half for the more menial things, you suppose, such as communicating himself to a greater extent.

You’re used to it.

He sighs and it sounds like a groan. “You’ve been making that face since earlier. Suguru won’t say it, but he’s worried.”

You catch your reflection in the unmoving pool. Melancholy. You kick up into it, and the water distorts your image. Just as you thought, the mission doesn’t sit well with you, it never did.

“Just thinking, I guess.”

He’s not satisfied with your answer, but you shrug. If it were your last day to live, what would you do? You comb through your memories in an effort to muster an answer. The only conclusion you come to is simple. You’d go to school and spend the day with the people you love.

You lean back on your flattened palms, looking straight ahead at the chain link fence that borders the pool.

“If it was my last day on Earth,” you start slowly. “I’d want to spend it all with you and Suguru and Shoko.” He stares at you. Your lips pick up in a smile. “Just the four of us…That would be the only thing I’d want.”

He’s still staring at you, like he can’t quite comprehend you.

“Is that weird?”

He opens his mouth. Snaps it shut.

“More like unnecessary,” he scoffs a second later, face angled away from your eyes as he stares intently at anything that isn’t you.

Silence reigns for a few minutes. The two of you watch as a breeze carries a leaf, watch as it flits across the surface of the pool.

“Satoru?”

“...What?”

I don’t want to go through with this.

“Let’s do everything in our power to make sure she enjoys the day, okay?”

You sheathe your katana, slinging it back over your shoulder. The four of you have reconvened on the rooftop after an attack by mercenaries. There’s a bounty on Riko’s head, a considerable one if they were willingly coming after Satoru and Suguru.

“A body double?” You nod. “That makes sense.” You study Riko. A wig. Cosmetics. If you kept your face down and covered, they’d be none the wiser about the switch.

“I could use my cursed technique in case things go awry,” you say. “In the best case scenario, we have ourselves a hostage or two.”

“They could restrain your hands,” Suguru points out. “You won’t have your katana either. It’s best to keep vigilant.”

Satoru pushes his sunglasses up the bridge of his nose. “What’s the point?” he says breezily. “We’ll be right there anyway.”

“There’s nothing wrong with making plans for all possible contingencies—”

“I’m coming too!” Riko exclaims, gaze resolute. “I can’t…” her fists shake. “I can’t leave something this important up to people I don’t even know!”

You can tell Satoru’s patience is wearing thin when irritation crosses his features. “It’s out of your hands,” he snaps. “Do you realize the situation you’re in—”

“I have to be there!” Riko snaps back, equally fierce. Her eyes waver, lips trembling. “I still… haven’t even said goodbye to her!” 

Satoru doesn’t immediately reply, looking away.

You catch Suguru’s gaze. There’s a smile twitching at his lips, and the two of you share a knowing look. You hide your grin too late because Satoru scowls.

“What?” 

The two of you conspicuously look away. 

“Nothing,” you hum while Suguru snickers, and Satoru’s face sours like a dried prune. After clearing your throat, you turn to the younger girl. “So, do you happen to have a spare uniform?”

-

“You’re warming up to her, huh?”

“Shaddup.”

 The sand sinks beneath your feet as you eye the glittering blue sea and the languid waves rolling to the shore. The beach is pristine, the sky without a cloud in sight, and you stretch in the sun.

The retrieval mission hadn’t taken long. In fact, a body double hadn’t even been needed at the speed and finesse it had taken both boys to take care of the kidnappers. You hadn’t been taken for more than a couple of minutes when Suguru’s rainbow dragon had crashed through the window of the warehouse and set the mercenary group into a panic.

“One more day left,” you muse to yourself, watching the waves splash at Riko’s feet as she rushes into the water, Satoru hot on her trail.

“What was that?”

You glance up at Suguru and find a small smile forming on your lips. “There’s only so much time left before the merger,” you murmur, returning your gaze to where Riko, Kuroi, and Satoru have begun to make a sandcastle. “He’s being unusually thoughtful, isn’t he?” 

The smile on his face turns wry. “Give yourself some credit. I’m sure it’s partially because of what you said to him earlier.”

You think he’s overestimating the strength of your words, and the bearing they have on Satoru.

Suguru speaks again. “Do you remember the beach in our first year?”

Of course you did. The series of events is relayed in your head. Shoko had been wearing a dark red bathing suit. Satoru had snapped his fingers and obliterated two sandcastles and Suguru had retaliated by slamming him into the sand. Shoko had found you a bright pink seashell that you kept on top of your dresser to this day. You had wanted to make it into a necklace or bracelet, but decided against it, wanting to leave it untouched and as pristine as the day it had been gifted to you. 

“I think that was Satoru’s first time at the beach.”

And the beach had been Satoru’s first stop on the itinerary.

You can’t help it. You laugh. “It was my first time too!”

Visible surprise.

Your laughter dies down, but the warmth of the memory lingers. “I never really had time for any of that growing up…so that day made me really happy.” You flash him a bright smile, and he stares. “It was the most fun I had in a long time!”

You play with the hem of the shirt Satoru had shoved into your arms after you had taken off your tank top. Maybe you had gone to the beach when you were younger, too young to remember, but there’s no recollection of it now. Nothing left but the vague murmur of your father’s last words.

“You know,” you say, looking back out at the beach, suddenly sober. “I’m sure Riko’s just putting on a brave front. Preparing for death is a lot harder than you think.” Waking up, only to start a countdown to the day your existence would be wiped out. Treasuring the seconds in between; the laughter shared between friends; reading a tear jerking novel; taking on a new hobby.  

You had seen the files. She had lost her parents at a young age, just like you. Fourteen years old and confined to a small, curated section of the world. The only person she dared to know, to care about, her own caretaker, too afraid of everything she might lose.

His gaze on you lingers, soft pinpricks on your skin as gentle as the slant of his eyes. You think he looks serene. You want to preserve it all; the image of Suguru smiling, the scent of the ocean salt, Satoru and Riko’s laughter echoing in the air, forever and ever.

“Satoru and I came to the decision that if the Star Plasma vessel didn't want to go through the merger, we'd—”

Before even meeting Amanai Riko, a part of you had known. If there was anybody in the world up to the task, it was those two. Your doubts had cleared no sooner than after you had departed in a plane. “Let me guess: take on the Elders, the entire sorcery world, even Master Tengen if it came down to it?"

It had been easy enough. If the mission was to be prioritized, then Riko’s return to Jujutsu Tech should have come first and foremost. You’re more or less relieved, than you are surprised.

You let out another laugh when he only shakes his head, goodnatured resignation on his face. “The two of you sure are subtle,” you close your eyes when a light breeze hits your face. “I’m helping too,” you say matter of factly. “Any objections?”

His smile grows. “How could I, with a bold declaration like that?”

The two of you watch Satoru chase Riko around with a large crab around the beach, her delighted shrieks filling the air, Kuroi not too far away, looking on with a smile. You wonder if this is Riko's first time in Okinawa. You want to tell her to make a list of all the places she’s ever wanted to visit. 

You angle your face in towards the sun, basking in the warmth. A thought strikes you. You open them, and meet his eyes.

“I want to meet them,” you say, eagerly. “Your parents.”

He quirks an eyebrow, and you can tell he hadn’t been expecting your sudden interest. You’ve always been interested though. You know of them, Suguru and Shoko’s parents. At your first inquiry, she had snorted. The next time the two of you were in the city, she had dragged you to a nice apartment in Akasaka while you had been frantic about finding a nearby bakery or a florist, anything so you wouldn’t be empty handed.

“I’m sure they’re proud to have raised a kind and thoughtful person. You’re a good person, Suguru.” You pause. “Although sometimes you do get carried away when you’re with Satoru.”

“Was that last part really necessary?” But he’s laughing, pink blossoming on his face, touching the tip of his ears. He somewhat composes himself. “They’re in the countryside.” 

“That’s fine. I don’t want to intrude on them, and I doubt we could go down with our schedules.” you say thoughtfully. “So how about the next time they’re in Tokyo?”

“You’re pretty determined about this.”

“Of course I am,” you reply seriously, looking at him. “So promise me right now.”

In the streaking light of the sunset, you can see his sun flushed face more brilliantly, and there’s an odd, out of place twinge in your chest.

“Promise,” he says softly.

“Great!” You stand, brushing the sand off your thighs. “It’s a date!”

 He blinks. You turn at Riko’s loud call, beckoning you over, right before the redness engulfs his face. 

There’s a wide grin plastered to her face, grains of sticky sand covering her hands as she waves at you. You think you’d like to protect that smile in the years to come.

Your name is what wakes you up with a start, as if a bucket of ice cold water has been thrown on you, along with the bucket itself. The second your vision comes into blurry focus, red hot pain lancing through your side follows quickly, so strong, so sharp, you’re paralyzed.

There’s a hand squeezing your shoulder so tightly it startles you into coherency, but any thoughts you can cobble together are immediately disrupted by the pain. Your head is splitting open. It hurts everywhere. Your lungs struggle to capture air, and you dimly realize you are choking on your own blood.

You can make out Satoru’s frame, his trembling shoulders, and the startling blue of his dilated eyes so bright it hurts your eyes.

Alive. He’s alive.

There’s a pressure on your abdomen. Satoru’s hands as he tries to staunch the blood escaping your body at a deadly rate. You must have unconsciously fortified your body with cursed energy while you had been out, but now you can feel your control slipping away, your energy slowly sapped away with every passing second. Maybe you’d have some shot at life if you could have used your cursed technique on yourself, stopping the blood from your pouring wound. But you can’t. You’d be comatose forever.

Satoru calls out over his shoulder, and Suguru enters your narrow field of vision, looking worse for wear. They both do. You can barely make out the blood on the collar of Satoru’s shirt, but it’s there. There’s something in Suguru’s hand. The relief overwhelms the pain. The two of them are safe and alive—

You think that the confirmation of their survival is what you’ve been waiting for.

An unintelligible rasp wheezes from your throat. You want to tell them—

You want to tell them…

The beach. Classes. Karaoke. How much it meant to you that they had participated in Obon with you. The festivals. Hokkaido.

Frustration contorts Satoru’s face at once. Suguru’s expression is dark. A shaking hand closes down on yours. 

“Don’t talk,”  Satoru hisses, glaring at you with all he can muster. Your eyes ache and blur once more. The pulsating pain skyrockets in your temples. “I swear, I will never forgive you—” he bites it back. There’s a tremor in his voice. Or maybe you’re imagining it.

Kuroi. You had been too absorbed in fighting the man with no cursed energy. Gone.

Riko—

A wave of dizziness envelops you. The pain slows, and your body numbs. You thought Satoru had  died.  You thought that the man was going to kill Suguru next.

You can’t feel your hands.

In a moment of stunning clarity, like the clouds parting away, you remember. You had been stabbed. A thin scar cut across the corner of his lips, only visible because he had come in close enough that you could see the smirk splayed across his face.

—damn shame—live long enough—potential—

Murkiness. 

Darkness crowds the corners of your eyes. 

Suguru’s voice. “—be here—”

You concentrate harder than you have in your life.

“Fuck waiting,” Satoru snarls testily. Teeth bared and bloody, he looks wild. You feel weightless, despite the heaviness of the limbs you don’t feel anymore. “There’s no time. I’m faster!”

Your hand pathetically brushes his torn shirt. 

Riko?

Suguru mouths Shoko. You assume. You jerk your head once, to the side, hard.  No.

Frustration. Blood erupts from your throat from the single syllable you can manage. Alarm overwrites their faces.

They share a single look, grounded in a certain desolation only failure can elicit.

Oh.

Faintly, you think that the devastation hurts more than your imminent death.

The last thing you see is an unhealed, flesh wound of a scar above Satoru’s bloodied eyebrow.

You want to touch it. Press your fingers to it, and feel it bleed.

 There is a lone figure sitting on the benches outside of the showers.

Hair still damp, you watch as drops of water fall from long strands of hair, but Suguru doesn’t seem to notice, too deep in thought to identify your presence.

You slowly walk up to him and kneel down, head tilted up to meet his faraway gaze.

“You’ll catch a cold.”

He blinks in surprise, raising his head, and you offer him a small smile when he murmurs your name.

“Are you alright?” Your voice is barely a whisper, as if asking any louder would invite bad memories. You figure now is a better time to ask than never. “Lately you’ve been a bit…” you momentarily cast your gaze to the floor. “Off.”

Suguru hides things. Most of the time behind a perfectly unassuming smile and modest words. He is as reserved in his feelings as Satoru is unapologetic. They've always been good like that. Sometimes you think Satoru speaks the words Suguru doesn't, while Suguru speaks the words Satoru can't.

You don't want to push him, but you want him to know.

It’s been a while since you’ve seen him with his hair down, and the long black hair cascades down his back, over his shoulders, longer than it’s ever been since you’ve met him.

You get the sudden urge to run your hand through it; slowly work your way down with a towel, and the thought embarasses you. You force yourself away.

A slightly self-deprecating curve of his lips replaces his surprised expression, but it’s strained. It’s a smile you’ve been seeing more and more often. A hand comes up to rub the side of his neck. He looks almost sheepish. “You’ve noticed?”

Of course you have. You aren’t the only one who’s been struggling. You’ve never really been good with your words. Not like Suguru. Not like Satoru when he wants to. 

He goes quiet. You wonder if he’s deliberating what to say. You wonder if he’ll lie, like he sometimes does to Satoru, to you, that everything’s fine.

You’re about to ask him if your presence is unwanted, when he speaks.

“Lately…I’ve had a lot of things on my mind.”

You search his face, wondering if you’ve imagined the darkness lurking underneath the surface of his smiles. You hadn’t questioned it. Anger, fear, powerlessness—it was all to be expected. You struggled with your own bouts of disillusionment. You hadn’t expected things to revert back to the normalcy of the days before your near death experience, no matter how much Satoru’s discontent made itself apparent. 

Suguru’s fine, why aren’t you?

You didn’t want to regret meeting Amanai Riko.

But a sliver of uneasiness has wormed its way in you. It’s Suguru.

Your missions are unrelenting and monotonous, and you find comfort in it, even though you often find yourself disassociating yourself from your body, like a windup doll, repeating actions over and over. There is no room for anything outside the scope of a couple basic actions. No energy to expend yourself further.

It’s how you slowly piece yourself back together for the time being.

You don’t know what to think. When you do, you see a corpse draped in a makeshift white tarp. 

So you take another mission. Eventually, you don’t think or feel much of anything.

Suguru exhales, lips curled upwards. "Worried?"

“That’s right.” You reach out to grab his hands, situated on his lap, fingers curling over his longer ones. You squeeze, looking him straight in the eye. “You can talk to me. I’m not Satoru, but I’m here too. You’re important to me.” 

I hope you remember that. Always and forever.

His head falls forward.

“Do you…still think I’m a good person?”

Your reply is instant. You can see him more clearly as you hold his gaze, the bags underneath his eyes, the haggard drop of his shoulders, the hesitation. “I’ve never doubted it, and I never will.”

Because the truth is, Suguru is the kindest person you know. And he has always cared past what should be expected of a jujutsu sorcerer. It puts you to shame, because you know he is everything you aren’t, and everything you should be. A sincere person whose heart bleeds for others, no matter how much Satoru gags and makes fun of his platitudes. 

It crosses his face so quickly you barely process it. A shadow falling across his face; the moon eclipsing the sun. His eyes go flat, darkening like the depths of the sea sunlight doesn’t reach, the placid chill of an environment where time doesn’t exist. He looks ravenous, and your breath catches in your throat. 

The silence spans three heartbeats and everything in between. The terrible feeling in your chest builds.

Then he breaks into a dry chuckle, and the teasing lilt in his voice is reminiscent of the friend you know. It feels normal, but it isn’t. There is no consolation, only concern.

"You know," he muses lightly, eyes never leaving your face, and you think they still look hungry, and for what you don't know. "I forget how earnest you can be sometimes."

Your exhale is unsteady, and there’s a breathless feeling of a free falling plummet. “I don’t feel like an earnest person,” you say lamely. Earnest isn’t a word you’d associate with yourself. It makes you feel fraudulent. Your face says it all.

A hand slips out from under yours, and you feel his fingers lightly brush your hair back to your shoulder, exposing the bare flesh of your neck. All with the care of handling porcelain. It’s gentle, anguishingly so, especially when his fingers trace a path from your throat and stop against the steady rhythm of your pulse. He doesn’t look away. 

It’s a low murmur. You hear it in his throat. “Aren’t you tired?”

You blink. His fingers don't falter. They're warm, pressed close. You wonder if he’s looking for a confirmation of life in the same way you do: reaffirmation. Shoko’s gentle hands rubbing soothing circles on your back after another night terror; the way Suguru’s lips form your name.

Sometimes, you think you died.

But then Satoru looks at you, and you think you’ve never felt quite so glad to be seen.

You wonder if he can feel the lull of your heart, quiet but beating. “Tired…?”

“Of being a jujutsu sorcerer…of the nightmares.”

His face is set into an inexplicable manner, awaiting your answer. As if trained, there’s a twinge of pain in your abdomen. You suck in a sharp breath, trying to form an answer, no matter how incomplete it may be. In the end, there’s no room for deliberation. There never has been, not for someone like you. 

"I can’t stop. It's all I've ever known," you say truthfully. You don't come from a line of jujutsu sorcerers, you weren't born into this duty. Yet you have spent more of your life in this world than out, breathing the air of curses and outdated institutions and irrational prejudices. You will die as a jujutsu sorcerer, because there is nothing else.

If he pities you, he hides it well. Despite that, his lips purse, eyebrows drawn, as if your words are the grotesque curses he ingests.

“Things like trying to decide whether or not people are worth it…” Worth saving. People with no knowledge of your burden, yours and Suguru’s and Shoko’s and Satoru’s. “To me, it doesn’t matter.”

Hesitation now will only cripple you, and you can't afford that. Amanai Riko hadn’t been reborn as a curse. It means everything to you and more. There is a rotten apple core caught in your throat, festering with the poison of all your regrets.

You swallow it down. 

This isn’t a resolution. It’s not even an excuse. One foot in front of the other, you go on. "People have to be worth it. That’s enough for me.”

There’s a desperate curl to his fingers seeking out your touch, and you see his throat bobbing. He wants to say something, or maybe tell you something.

“Senpai! Ah, Geto-san too!”

The two of you spring apart, and you can feel your heart rattling in your chest. 

“Haibara,” you exhale with a smile on your lips. He beams at you, raising his hand in a greeting at the two of you. “It’s good to see you.” You stand, “I should head out. I promised Shoko a drink from the vending machine.”

You take your leave with a wave, sending a final smile at Suguru over your back. He looks deep in thought, brought back to reality as Haibara plops down next to him.

You can’t shake off the dread in the pit of your stomach, or the way his face had fallen for a split second.

You didn’t think for a moment that his hostility was directed towards you.

That’s what scares you.

 "I saw those fish at the aquarium, and I've never seen anything so b—big and beautiful before."

The two of you sit in the darkness of your room, and your hand alternates between patting her hair, and rubbing gentle circles into her back.

“I don’t want to die.” She whispers, face buried into your lap. A sniffle. "I want to go to Hokkaido, and, and Fukushima, and eat more sushi and ramen with everyone. I don't..." Her voice cracks, lips wobbling. "I don't want to leave Kuroi."

 "Why are you out here?"

Satoru doesn’t answer. Instead he kicks a pebble on the pavement to the side, face inscrutable. The two of you stand in the driveway of the Haibara residence, where the majority of the people are concentrated inside the house. Dressed in a neatly tailored black suit, face devoid of the usual sunglasses Suguru had collected off his face with a sigh, he looks older than he is, but there’s an air of apathy that surrounds him. The kind that isn’t intentional, but telling nonetheless.

Just one more death in a series of many.

Despite somber proceedings of the memorial service, you are faintly amused. “Did Suguru kick you out?”

You can already imagine it. When you had been inside the house, Suguru had been paying his respects to the Butsudan, the stiff tension of his shoulders noticeable. You had exited the house to leave room for the other visitors, and because the crowd was starting to wear on you, keeping you on an edge you thought inappropriate for a memorial service. You didn’t want to alarm the others.

Before you had left, you had caught a glimpse of Nanami kneeling down to speak to a small, black haired girl who couldn’t have been more than seven, and your heart dropped. Suddenly, you needed air more than ever.

“Called me insensitive,” Satoru mutters, but you can’t tell if he’s bitter or indifferent. “Told me to wait outside like some dog.”

“People are grieving,” you say. There’s a firmness to your voice even though all you want is to fall back apart. “We have to be respectful.”

He looks away, fingers curling and opening at his sides as if he doesn’t quite know what to do with them. “I know.”

The two of you fall back into silence. He’s looking at you, but your downturned head is all he sees. It’s all he sees now. He wishes you’d just  look  at him. Even Suguru looks at him, although it takes more effort now, because nowadays Suguru spends more time looking into space than at him. He’s not used to it.

“He was…a nice kid.”

Before he had embarked on his final mission, Haibara had knocked on your door with a fistful of flowers plucked from Jujutsu Tech’s own garden. Nanami stood behind him, a pinched expression on his face, eyeing your door warily, as if Satoru himself might emerge from your room.

For you, Senpai. Since you’re always giving flowers to others. I thought maybe you could use them for once! I’ll be sure to get you and Ieiri-san some souvenirs on the way back! Haha, we're late aren't we? Let’s go Nanami!

A maneki neko wrapped in bubble wrap and a flower pressed bookmark.

Nanami’s quiet but firm voice. He would’ve wanted you to have it.

You lift your gaze, “That’s it,” you say, tone falling flat, one sound removed from a question.

He shrugs, and you know there’s no animosity in it, like a child that doesn’t know better. You aren’t angry or upset or disquieted like you think others would be, but you do wonder why he even followed after you and Suguru when you know there are too many other things that could be occupying his time.

“I almost died.” Your fingers pass your shirt, where an ugly scar of raised flesh lies underneath.

In another universe, Haibara's cremation could have been yours. 

He stares at you. You can see the outline of your face reflected back in the depths of his crystal clear gaze.

“You aren’t Haibara,” he says simply, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. You have me.

People start to file out; bobbing heads and black suits and black dresses, complete with grim faces. The sky is dark, storm clouds overhead. It might rain.

You start forward, turning your back on him to face the house. “I’m going to see if his parents need anything.”

Satoru says your name. You stop in your tracks.

"I won’t die. I won’t let you either.”

 There’s only you and Suguru, in an unfamiliar backstreet in an idyllic neighborhood just outside of the bustle of the inner city.

He slows to a stop when he sees you. To his credit, he looks slightly taken aback. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

The relief is overwhelming. Out of everything—the fear, anger, horror, confoundment—it is the relief that wins out.

Right now, at this moment, Suguru is in front of you. Suguru who had killed one hundred and twelve villagers, and then went on to kill his parents.

You step forward. Closer until you’re right in front of him. “Shoko texted me.”

A location contained within a single sentence, along with a warning.

He’s not the Suguru you know anymore.

He lets out a small amused huff, as if the two of you are just discussing how fast Satoru could make it from the school to his favorite bakery in Kyobashi if he was really trying. It’s an all act. You see the tightness in the lines of his face. The way he holds himself. "Figures."

You had processed the news with a blank stare. Satoru next to you, eyes wide, his shock palpable enough for his cursed energy to flare like a shining beacon. And then you were sinking, back underwater, the sound of Yaga-sensei’s voice washed out by the sound of your own heart in your ears.

It sinks in. It settles. This is your immutable reality now.

The first thing on your mind had been Suguru, sentenced to execution and on the run from Jujutsu authorities.

It doesn’t matter. Everyone knows it. There is only one person who will be saddled with the burden of this request that asks for the world and more; a burden that shouldn’t have even existed in the first place.

Despite the tell tale signs of exhaustion, for the first time in a long time, you can’t help but think he looks… content. A small, almost minuscule voice wonders if your moral dilemma really is nothing more than the blurred line between responsibility and hatred. If it really is that easy.

There is an inherent ugliness to weakness that you are closely acquainted with. Eyes wide open, never looking away. It wears on your soul, eating away at everything you once thought to be true, and turning you on your head. You think this is the ugliness Suguru sees when he looks to non jujutsu sorcerers. It is the only thing he sees now.

“Suguru,” you whisper, so softly you’re not sure he even hears you, and you are heartbroken all over again. “You killed your parents. All those…villagers.”

112 additional lives.

The father you were told had taught him how to ride a bike. He had fallen on a sharp rock. There’s a scar, right above his left knee. He had picked at the scab. The mother who he had accompanied to every trip to the grocery store to help her unpack at home until he had moved away to Jujutsu Tech, and called him at least once a week.

You liked hearing the stories of his childhood. Satoru did too. You always knew he was always listening, even though his appearance suggested otherwise; an arm slung over his closed eyes, or his fingers dancing over his game controller, gaze not as fixed to the screen as it could’ve been.

He might have flinched at your words, but you don’t know.

Instead, Suguru studies you with a tilted head, in a fascinated way that has you feeling scrutinized. He smiles mirthlessly. "Not even the benefit of doubt, huh?" Something softens in his face, almost imperceptibly. “You should have brought your katana.”

You recoil, eyes wide. The thought makes your stomach turn.

“Those villagers deserved worse,” his words are curt, eyes flat. “They’re all nothing but monkeys.”

Now you can properly identify the emotion on his face, the one you had seen all those months ago.

It’s disgust. He is revolted by the thought of non jujutsu sorcerers to the extent that they shouldn’t exist at all. 

"And my parents...were no different."

You look at him, because a sense of urgency within you claims that this might be the last time you ever see him. Framed against the backdrop of several dilapidated buildings and a setting sun. 

"Are you going to kill me?" You think if he killed you, you wouldn't put up much of a fight. Underneath the numbness barely keeping you together, a morbid part of you thinks that there’s not really a better way to go. No matter how much Suguru had changed, he was still your Suguru, and he always would be.

He pretends to think about it, and takes a step closer. "If you get in my way, maybe."

And then he lifts your chin up with a finger, leans down, and captures his lips with yours.

The world stills; turns on its axis. You’re surprised you’re still standing straight, and then you realize you’re rooted in place, eyes wide, and jaw falling slack. A strong arm snakes around your waist and brings you closer as his tongue slips between your parted lips.

Your hands have come up to his chest, as if to push him away, but they stay there, suspended just above his sweater. 

It's a slow kiss, but not a gentle one. His hand cups your face, tilting you towards a better angle, and your mind blanks.

You stare straight into his lidded eyes, and his face unfathomable. There is nothing but Suguru; the faded taste of cigarettes on his lips, the warm caress of his hand, the domineering shift of his lips onto yours, leaving you no choice but to follow.

Your heart might just stop. Any words to be said have died in your throat.

A small noise leaves your throat before he breaks apart, releasing you. His lips hover near yours, lingering, before he moves away. Head spinning from the lack of air, and face impossibly warm, it’s impossible to collect your thoughts. Your hands are shaking.

Mute, you watch his tongue flick out, tasting you on his lips. You take a clumsy half step back, trying to wrangle your lungs back into working order. 

A distinctly satisfied expression settles on his face, right before vibrations erupt from his chest, stifling an amused chuckle.

“You’re supposed to close your eyes, you know.” He says lightly, almost chidingly. He touches you once more, with a boldness that is foreign to you. His thumb traces the outline of your spit shiny bottom lip and heat flares over your body.

“Su-Suguru—” Anything else refuses to leave your throat, caught in the frenzy of your thoughts, trying organize a response. But for one of the first times in your life, you are at a loss.  

He—You—

A distraction? A goodbye? A wish? There are too many potential intentions that you could claim, but you don’t have to. You already know.

There are…There are still so many things you want to say, things you want to  tell him. You love him, the kind of love that would have you dying for him, gladly giving your life for his, even as the person he is now. For Satoru, for Shoko. 

“I—”

There's a disarming smile on his lips as he observes you, but also a touch of sadness.

"I don't need anyone to understand."

He walks away, and doesn’t look back.

 "It's not enough," he says tonelessly. "To be the strongest alone."

You aren’t sure when two had become one. Maybe that was failure on your part.

Two to share the burden. Two people, side by side.

Two people to share the blame.

The weight may have lifted off Suguru's shoulders, but now the same weight is a heaviness draped across Satoru’s shoulders. You feel the curl of despair in the air keenly. You’ve seen many sides to Satoru in the years you’ve known him, but this is a devastation the both of you share, one that nobody else in the world could know.

"I couldn't kill him."

“I know.”

If it’s your fault, then it’s mine too.

 The man was from the Zenin family.

It’s a fact that Satoru conveniently leaves out until he can’t.

His name was Fushiguro Toji, and he had a son.

It had been a single offhanded remark this morning that incited your current situation.

There's a kid. Wanna come with?

Fushiguro Megumi can't be older than six, dressed in black as he stares you down flatly, looking less than impressed at your arrival. He is strikingly similar in appearance to his father, from the darkness of his eyes, so dark that you think you can see shadows pooling in them, to the unruly mess of his hair, the color derived from his father’s.

Fushiguro Toji’s appearance is one you can remember with stunning clarity. It's the only thing you can recall. There are gaps in your memory, most likely caused by the bloodloss. Shoko isn't sure it'll all completely come back. You're not sure you want it to. 

"—absolutely no w—"

You snap yourself out of your stupor and push at Satoru’s shoulder. Hard. He grunts. 

You kneel down in front of the boy, and look into his eyes, searching. From what you’ve heard, you think mentioning his father would do any good. You’re not exactly sure of the best time to broach the news of his father’s death. Or the person who killed him.

You wince. You're not good with kids.

Eyes narrowed at your proximity, to him, you are still a stranger. You understand. 

"We'll take good care of you and your sister. I promise," you tell him earnestly.

"It was a joke," Satoru grumbles from your side, rubbing his arm. "A joke."

You give him a halfhearted glare.

You can see the gears in his head turning—the question of trust and trustworthiness, when Satoru's hand comes down onto his head, making a mess of his already wild mane of hair with a grin.

Gaze traveling upwards, you see a girl out on a small, ramshackle balcony on the second floor of an even more rundown building. From what you can garner: two young children living alone without parental supervision. Your worry increases. There are too many factors to consider, too many places to start.

What do you want to do?

Nobody had ever asked what you wanted.

“You’re thinking. This isn’t some charity trip, you know.”

You think you see the twitch of irritation on Megumi’s face. You should be embarrassed. 

Inherited cursed technique. The Ten Shadows technique with its potential to rival limitless. A deal with the Zenins. For a young child, it’s all too cruel.

You’ve had enough cruelty for the time being.

You turn away from him, resolving to ignore him. “Don’t say that.”

He only sighs, rubbing at his neck, and turns back to Megumi.

His face gives away nothing. "Don't get left behind."

You stare at him, but he’s already somewhere far away in his head. 

Your nightmares have shifted into unforeseen territory, and now you're haunted by something entirely new that has you waking up in a sweat.

It all feels like you’re in a daze. You still don’t know what to make of Suguru’s farewell.

He turns to meet your stare. “I’m alright!" There’s a sigh in his voice. "No need to look at me like that.”

You don’t reply. You take a few steps forward, holding his gaze until you’re nearing chest to chest, your head tilted upwards. You don’t realize that you’ve backed him into a wall or the interest framing his face.

Behind black shades, you can see pale, white (surprisingly long) eyelashes fluttering.

Then you raise your hand towards his face, slowly brushing back the white hair that falls into his face, just right above his eyebrow. Pale skin is revealed, and a thin remnant of a puckered, uneven scar remains. It hadn’t been clean, if utilized correctly, the ridges on the inverted spear of heaven ensuring a painful death.

You press your thumb to it. He lets you. There’s a lump in your throat. 

With a pleased nod, you lower yourself back down, blinking away the sudden moisture in your eyes. "It's healed nicely."

Before you can step back, he takes your arm, stopping you.

His face is unusually solemn, just like that day he held you in a dark storage room. When he speaks, you know he means it. “All you need to say is ‘Satoru, help me,’ and I’ll be there.”

His hand curls into your arm, not tightly. Reassuringly.

“Satoru…”

He suddenly bows his head, learning forward. There's an unexpected jerk of your heart. Then the memory of Suguru kissing you, a single finger picking your chin up. You're about to ask him if everything's alright when you feel the thrumming, the pull of infinity, drawn to the center of Satoru’s orbit.

His arms wrap around you. 

"Hey," he starts lowly, sporting a wide grin. All the warm sentiment evaporates. You are exasperated. Fondly so, but still. "When did you get so shameless? We're in public, you know."

You pry his arms off you, stepping back onto the street without another word. You can feel his gaze on your back as you start walking. The sun is setting, basking you and the derelict apartments around you in a warm orange glow. It reminds you of long hazy summers spent all together, back when you had taken things for granted.

Satoru leaning over to grab an entire fistful of your American candy that you had waited two months for while Suguru would look on, amused, an admonishment on his tongue. Shoko lazily smoking a cigarette, head on your lap. The four of you, going out for dinner and bullying Satoru into paying. 

I don't need anyone to understand.

You vaguely wonder if you'll ever be that carefree version of you again. 

"I’m in the mood for sushi," you announce over your shoulder, already a distance away. He hasn’t moved, just watches you. You smile. "And you're paying."

notes:

this ended up being... a lot longer than it was supposed to be, but i really wanted to include some haibara, even if it was just his funeral 😭

i had to add in the part about wanting to meet geto's parents bc like...i think a lot of ppl forget that geto killed his own parents. that's so fucked up. i love him your honor.

yes, rip!mc meets megumi for the first time and straight up dissociates for like five minutes because of how much he looks like toji lmfao. megumi's like what's wrong with her? and gojo tells him to mind his own business.

although the official HI translations didn’t exactly convey it correctly, gojo’s ‘you can’t save people unless they’re prepared to be saved by others” [bolded not in the translations] while talking to yaga after the kfc breakup is supposed to parallel the movie/jjk 0 (which u can see in the LN translations). however the translations suck at meaningful continuity and this wasn’t as clear. i like to think gojo and rip!mc extend their hands out to each other.

that meme where it’s like ‘i can make him worse’? yes. that’s rip!mc @ geto but. accidentally.

#gojo satoru x reader #geto suguru x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #m.jjk #ripverse

[kaminobiwan]

cannonball

pairing: obi-wan kenobi x jedi!reader

summary: Throwing all caution out the window, Obi-Wan dives headfirst into a long awaited confession. At least, he tries to. The universe seems to leave an obstacle for him at every turn, but Obi-Wan is nothing if not persistent.

a/n: Oh my goodness, this has got to be my proudest piece. It was one of the victims of the incident™ and I had to rewrite the whole thing from scratch, but I actually think the final version came out better than the original! The title is inspired from the summary of my previous fic Indulgence, but this one is actually the cornerstone of all of my jedi!reader x Obi-Wan fics: every one of those has stemmed from this storyline idea that has been living in my head for so long. Suffice it to say this is THE fic that I have wanted to write from the beginning — my pièce de résistance, if you will.

I hope you enjoy :-) p.s. here's my taglist form

In all the years he’s known you, Obi-Wan swears he only ever started to lie to you during the Clone Wars.

In his defense, he’d been lying to himself, too. Forcibly crushing down his much-deeper-than-platonic favor for you in the hopes that it’d disappear, forgotten in his darkest recesses, was exhausting in more ways than one. One’s mind can only be dishonest with the heart for so long.

But after more than a year and a half into the fighting, he’d felt too many times the choking fear that he’d never see you again — be it because of his death or yours.

So he’d given up in repressing his emotions, and let himself feel. In the precious minutes of reprieve amidst the horrors of combat, sometimes the only thing that could console his jaded and war-torn soul was the memory of you.

He wonders how he managed to continue for as long as he did before allowing himself to consciously love — it was well into the conflict when he came to terms with it. If he closes his eyes, he can easily remember the exact moment.

Geonosis. His return to the forsaken planet.

The chaos of it all had been staggering. He’d barely been able to hear Cody’s warning before he was shot out of the sky, and the crash that claimed the lives of nearly everyone in the transport had been just the beginning of the hellscape he’d endured.

There was an instant where he’d been sure he was going to die on the field, seconds before the remainder of his battalion was about to be overrun.

He remembers the gunfire surrounding him, piercing the falling bodies of his men as he laid helpless and injured. Cody’s shouting amidst the mayhem. The stabbing pain of his ribs that had blackened the edges of his vision. The dirt that had caked his face and armor. The sheer amount of it had been maddening.

And yet, as the bugs had closed in around him and he’d forced himself to his feet to meet his imminent end, the only thing that had run through his mind was...you.

Your name, your face. The dissatisfaction at the fact that the last time he’d seen it, it’d been distorted, static and blue from the holo you’d shared with Master Unduli. The way you’d hidden a smile as she interrupted his competitive jeering with Anakin ahead of the battle.

At least he’d made you laugh, he’d thought, and with that, he’d ignited his lightsaber.

And then the reinforcements had come. And he’d been left to sink back down on shaking knees with the image of you burning in his brain until the concerned presence of Ahsoka materialized at his side.

He hadn’t had any time to process the stunning realization that he was in love with you. He’d scarcely had a second to gather himself before he was already spouting a revised attack plan to take the droid factory, reverting to autopilot the way he always did when he assumed his identity as a war general.

But the universe had seemed intent on not letting him escape it, regardless. Just days later, he’d saved your life — you’d arrived at Point Rain with Luminara only to be taken by the Geonosian queen to be turned into a mindless, shivering zombie.

“I still haven’t forgiven you for that, you know.” You’d chirped, while tapping his nose teasingly.

“What? The stunt with the worms? You know I wouldn’t have actually let it go up your nose.”

“No, for disobeying an order to fall back and leave us behind.”

His heart had clenched at your words. Never in a million years would he abandon you if he thought there was the smallest chance of saving you. He knew that, finally.

But the fear of losing the only life he’d ever known outweighed the fear of losing you, and he’d settled with yearning for you from afar. It would be enough, he’d convinced himself. He refused to burden you with the knowledge that he’d been pining helplessly for you for Force knows how long, and ruin the careers in the Order you’d both worked so hard to construct.

That was, until now.

Until he’d seen Satine Kryze again, after decades apart, and she’d declared her surviving affection for him from all those years ago, Anakin witnessing the whole thing. After he’d seen the weight of her unspoken truth upon her shoulders. And although he regretted that he couldn’t grant her the relief from her wanting, he’d resolved that he didn’t want to spend the rest of his days the same way — slowly being crushed by his own supression. Even if his feelings were unrequited.

So he’d decided that he’d tell you, Jedi Code be damned. He wouldn’t hold it in any longer.

As the Coronet docked on the landing pad where the Chancellor was waiting, he’d been jittery with anticipation. That, and disoriented from the events that had transpired on the way there. He’d blubbered uncharacteristically when Satine had caressed his face in farewell, Anakin watching delightedly at his back. Then, as he’d turned to find a speeder to make his way to you in the Temple, the universe had yet again toyed with him — you were there, appearing on the platform out of nowhere like a summoned spirit, but not making your way towards him.

No, you were walking straight towards Satine.

You didn’t seem to notice him or Anakin behind you, welcoming the Duchess with practiced cordiality and leading her to the airbus where the other Senators were boarding, glaringly obvious that you’d been assigned on escort duty. Obi-Wan held back a groan. Of all the Jedi.

Anakin had practically collapsed in hilarity, a hand heavy on Obi-Wan’s shoulder. “The Force works in mysterious ways, Master,” he crowed. “I finally get that one.”

———

You’re perched high up on a viewing balcony of the Senate Chamber when he finds you, a little before Satine is set to address the Republic.

“You’re certainly off your game today,” you exhale an amused laugh as he skids to a stop, attempting to compose his appearance as he approaches you. “Anakin told me all about what happened on the Coronet en route to Coruscant.”

His blasted Padawan. Obi-Wan could strangle him.

“I didn’t teach him to gossip,” he grumbles, coming to stand beside you. He'd run the whole way here to catch you, but his rapid heartbeat isn’t from physical exertion. You’re as tranquil as ever, though, and your presence relaxes him despite.

You give a snort. “Maybe not intentionally. He definitely learned how to operate outside the lines of the Code by watching you.” He knows you’re poking fun at him, but his breath catches at the mention of the doctrine that dictates you both.

But he’s set on telling you. Today.

“Actually, I was hoping to talk to you about something similar.”

You turn to the Chancellor’s podium as his voice reverberates through the hall, but Obi-Wan’s hearing is fixed on you. “Of course, Obi, but it’ll have to wait until later. I think your friend is about to speak.”

He opens his mouth to reply, to bring your attention back to him, but you’re focused on the proceedings. He doesn’t like the jovial way you say friend, as if you’re almost happy about it, but he forces his gaze to follow yours as Satine begins her address.

Which, of course, goes terribly wrong. Because nothing seems to want to work out today.

Even your usually optimistic features are set with a grim expression as a testimonial from Satine’s own Deputy Minister slights her leadership, and the Senate turns against her. As her repulsorpod retreats from the center of the chamber, you cast concerned eyes towards him.

“Go,” you urge him, and he’s frozen between staying or leaving. “She needs you. I’ll buy you some time with the security detail.”

Obi-Wan doesn’t want to depart from your side, words hanging on the tip of his tongue, but he knows you’re right. He nods at you gratefully before chasing after Satine.

———

He tries again in the evening, while you’re between shifts of guarding the Duchess’ guest quarters.

“She seems...interesting,” you nod to the Mandalorian guard that passes by to take your post, speaking low enough that your conversation is relatively private. “She certainly had much to say about you.”

Obi-Wan wanted to scream. It seems everyone had been able to get you alone except for him. “I told you about that year on Mandalore after I came back,” he protests, and you shoot him a pitiful wink.

“Not the way she described it.”

Before he can demand just what Satine had let on, the sound of rapid footfalls draws both of your attention to the guard you’d greeted earlier. “Master Jedi! The Duchess is gone. We don’t know for how long.”

You curse lightly and rush down the hall to follow the Mandalorian, and Obi-Wan is about to do the same when his comm buzzes on his wrist.

He sighs in frustration. He knows exactly who it is.

———

After he’d relayed the untampered evidence to Padmé in time for the Senate convocation and Satine had been released from custody, Obi-Wan makes his way to your quarters in a determined stride. The past couple days were nothing short of a wild Bantha ride from start to finish, and he was tired of tiptoeing around you.

As he raises a shaking hand to knock outside your room, he stalls in a moment of fleeting hesitation. The impending metamorphose of your relationship nags at his brain, and he pauses. What he’s about to do will indelibly transform the dynamic between you, for better or for worse. It dawns on him that there won’t be any going back from this.

He hears your voice from a distant memory of late nights in the Temple gardens, basking in the light of the stars. Of course everything will change. Nothing can stop that.

So be it.

He stands as tall as he can manage, and knocks resolutely.

You open the door looking ready for bed, clad in a billowing camisole, face dewy from the refresher and hair still damp. He smiles at you as you open it wider. “Hello, Obi.”

He shuffles inside, meekly nodding in apology of his interruption. “I thought I’d come see you.”

Like routine, you’re already heating up a pot of water for him as you search for his favorite tea in your cupboard. Ever so thoughtful. His heart flutters beneath his robes. “I’m glad to see you found the Duchess,” you chime lightheartedly, “I had a hunch when you disappeared earlier.”

His hand finds the back of his neck. “I hope I didn’t make you look too bad, being on protection and all.”

You shake your head dismissively. “I was just glad to hear she was safe. You helped save her people from Republic occupation.”

Altruistic honesty radiates off of you, and his chest drops, in a good way. You care, and it’s written all over your actions.

You’re the best person he knows. Without question.

For a split second, Obi-Wan wonders if he even deserves you. But he pushes the thought in the back of his mind for later, hell-bent on not letting anything get in the way of what he wants to say.

“There’s something I need to tell you.”

You face him fully, abandoning the tea as you take in the seriousness of his posture. He sucks in a stunted breath.

“It’s about —”

“I know.”

He startles, momentum lost as you interrupt him suddenly. Your gaze is penetrating. “What?” He asks dumbly.

“It’s about Satine, isn’t it?” Your bare arm comes up across your body to hold the other, and Obi-Wan finds himself staring at the way your too-long pants brush the floor as you sway to one side. Your sleeping shirt brushes the middle of your thighs, and he realizes how utterly small you seem in the moment. “You feel the same way about her that you used to.”

His eyes snap up to yours at your words, mind reeling. It takes him an eternity to force out a single word.

“...No.”

You tilt your head confusedly, and Obi-Wan wants to pinch himself to test if this is some sort of stress-induced hallucination. “No? You do know she’s positively infatuated with you, don’t you?”

“No, I —” he shuts his eyes desperately. “I mean, yes, I know, but I don’t —” he breaks off abruptly, opening his eyes at you with newfound willpower. Blast it.

Obi-Wan crosses the room in three steps, reaching his hands out to cradle you delicately as he pulls you in for a bruising kiss.

He hears your breath stutter, shock just about vibrating off of you, but in the next second your eyelashes graze his cheeks as you close your eyes and lean into him. His heart pounds in crazed gratification, and Obi-Wan feels downright dizzy from the sensation. He’s going to faint, he’s going to die right here in your arms —

Your hands find the top of his chestplate, fingers curling against it, but after a beat of his body singing with joy, he feels you apply the smallest pressure on his armor. You detach your lips from his slowly, and he blinks dazedly at you when you pull away. Disbelief paints your frame.

“Obi, what —”

“I love you,” he says quickly, hands still on either side of your face. “I’m in love with you. I’ve been in love with you. For so long.” One of your hands reaches up to clasp his own against your cheek. “I know that this goes against everything we’ve ever been taught, and you must be confused. I’m sorry.” He breaks off for a second, eyebrows creasing, because he’s not sorry. He could never be sorry for what he’s just done, not with the feeling of your lips still rippling in tingles through his brain. “But I had to tell you. I just...couldn’t go on without you knowing.”

Your mouth opens and closes as you flounder in his confession, and he studies you with more intensity than he’s felt in ages. He’s suddenly hyper-aware of everything about you, offhandedly concentrating to memorize every tiny detail. He’ll relive that kiss a thousand times over for the rest of his life if it’s the last one he’ll get.

“I — I don’t know what to say,” you manage to let out, and he presses his forehead to yours before releasing you. Say you love me, his heart cries. But Obi-Wan pushes the sentiment away.

“It’s alright,” he promises gently. You stare at him as he squeezes the hand that’s still holding his. “You don’t have to say anything.”

“Obi-Wan, I —”

Whatever you’re about to say is cut off by a loud knock from outside, and the way you jerk back from him pricks at his emotions. You quickly pad to the door, opening it a crack as he attempts to conceal himself from your unexpected visitor.

“Sorry to bother you so late, Master,” Anakin’s voice fills the air, and Obi-Wan shrinks further into the shadows. “I’m just checking in before I leave for Vanquor. I wanted to make sure you’re still available to train Ahsoka while I’m gone?”

It takes you a little to formulate a response, your eyes still wide. “Yes — of course, Anakin, always.” You attempt to shut the door, but Anakin speaks up before you can.

“Actually, I was hoping to ask you for some advice as well, if you don’t mind.”

You can’t look at Obi-Wan without giving him away, so he sends a subtle wave of reassurance your way, hoping you pick up on it.

The tension releases from your shoulders, and you nod at his old student. “I’d be happy to. Give me a bit to get ready,” you gesture behind you, “and I’ll walk you to your quarters.”

Anakin must nod in return, because you close the door without another word. You reach up to grab your outer robes from where they’re hung on the wall, and turn to him with a tormented expression.

Go, it’s his turn to coax you as he mouths the word silently. It’s alright.

Your eyes are shining with emotion that he can’t quite read in the dim light, but eventually you slip on your cloak and shoes and open the door once more. With one last lingering glimpse at him in the corner, you disappear into the hall where Anakin is waiting.

As he feels your presence dwindling away, he sends a final thought into the vacant room, more to himself and the aching emptiness of the Force than to you.

I love you.

#*DROPS THIS AND RUNS* #rini writes #obi wan kenobi x reader #obi wan x reader #obi wan kenobi imagine #i'm so excited to finally post this one it's been in my drafts forever #THE DRAMA! #don’t imagine the gif as his face after you leave just DON’T

[tobiosmilktea]

amor vincit omnia — akaashi keiji

     ↪︎ O2. I CHOOSE YOU

masterlist | prev. | next

a/n: i absolutely hated rewriting this chapter after it glitched out the first time 😔

since the beginning of your first year of university, you and the rest of your lovely friends had been eating in the library, specifically the large round table secluded and at the very corner for every meal without fail, and nobody really cared to stop you guys for two reasons. For one, no one really goes into that corner of the library that only collected dust, and two, you guys were there so often that you all befriended all the librarians to the point they stopped coming by to tell you guys to leave and eat in the canteen instead.

you were placed between daichi and kiyoko, counting the seconds by as they worked diligently in silence, munching on their lunch in the process. daichi tapped on the keys on his laptop rather quickly, the impact of each click being unnecessarily loud while kiyoko was cross-referencing documents and highlighting lines of never ending texts in a nice muted green color. tsukishima, on the other hand, was too preoccupied reading his book. eyes completely glued to the novel resting in his hands as he readjusted his glasses higher on the bridge of his nose. sugawara was out and about somewhere in the sea of towering bookshelves to find a book to read, mentioning something along the lines of—and you quote, ‘something to quench his thirst for entertainment.’ 

it was honestly just his fancy way of saying that he was bored out of his goddamn mind. perhaps you were the same, eyes wandering your surroundings for something, just something to capture your attention for a few moments. it wasn’t at all difficult, actually, considering how pretty your university was.

higashi university had always been your dream college. not just by its blatant aestheticism, but the academia as well. with tanaka and nishinoya being your main friend group during your high school days, it feels rather refreshing being surrounded by other incredibly smart individuals than constant brain rot.

(no offense to tanaka and nishinoya, you loved them to pieces)

and as your mind began to wander, so did your gaze. from admiring the library’s interior to looking out the window, your lips slightly curved down into a frown.

it was only noon and the clouds were already darkening the sun’s piercing rays that usually shone through the large domed windows of the library. it was going to rain soon and for a couple hours as well.

it’s quite peculiar to think about now after you received that damned chain letter. earlier this morning, while shoving on your wool sweater and trousers, that even the weather app on your phone didn’t show any signs of inclement weather until an hour after you texted your group chat in an awkward panic.

you didn’t really pine yourself to be so superstitious. if anything, you were the complete opposite, and yet, here you were worrying over the sound of rumbling thunder in the distance.

tsukishima lifted his gaze from the words printed on his novel as he pushed his glasses higher up on the bridge of his nose. he flickered a look at you, a smirk appearing on his visage the moment he noticed the way you stared at a single drop of rain on the window, flowing down rather slowly.

that stupid letter of yours was still in your hand as well. he watched you fiddle with the corners, careful not to mess with the mahogany red wax stamp that sealed the envelope.

“have you thought about which poor, unfortunate soul you’re going to give it to?” he asked, smirk still annoyingly evident. this was the third time he asked you this question in a span of three hours.

you flicked your eyes towards him coolly before it fell onto the letter in your hands. "ask that question again and i’ll be sure to send it your way, tsukishima.”

“i’d like to see you try, honestly.” he muses, “your best bet is probably slipping it into one of your professor’s inboxes. maybe professor oshiro, by chance?”

“please,” you snort, “she only gave me one failing grade that i eventually made up in the end.”

“just give it to a random stranger,” daichi cuts in, eyes still glued to his laptop as he typed his fingers away. dark circles dusting his eyes like a dark shadow. law school was certainly doing its works on the likes of poor, poor sawamura daichi.

he shrugs, evidentially fatigued when he meets your eye.

“that way your grades won’t have to potentially deal with the consequences if your professor finds out.”

you nod, humming in response. that would be terrible.

sugawara then emerges from the maze of bookshelves, holding up a book towards you with a smile on his face. “found one,” he beams, tossing it atop the messy table.

you reach for the book as sugawara pulls out his chair whilst he mutters something to his daichi about his whereabouts.

“wuthering heights?” you say the title aloud and capture kiyoko’s attention along with it.

“yeah. have you guys read it?” the silver-haired boy asks. he takes your opinions quite seriously knowing how much of an avid reader you and kiyoko were. whenever he needed book recommendations or opinions, he would always go to you two.

you nod, “i quite liked it.”

“some parts tend to be slow, though.” adds in kiyoko, taking the novel from your hands and flipping through the pages briefly before slipping back over towards sugawara. “it should keep you occupied for a few days.”

you chuckle slightly, giving her a look. “you forget how slow suga is at reading. the few days it takes us to finish a book is a good month for him.”

offense coated sugawara’s expression as he lets out a scoff in retaliation. “don’t you have a chain letter to give to someone?”

“she’s stalling,” tsukishima teases.

“am not!”

“then want to go give it to a random stranger then?”

your brows draw together, “right now?”

tsukishima nods as he stuffs his belongings back into his bag. “i’ll come with you for shits and giggles.”

a sigh escapes you, rolling your eyes as you take a look at the letter one last time and wanting to laugh at yourself for doing all this. a full chain letter from front to back, with the first quarter of it is you viciously apologizing that you had to do this in neat cursive handwriting, all written in fifteen minutes.

you gave in.

“fine,” you huff as you grab your own bag as well.

“good luck,” kiyoko muses up at you as you squeeze past her.

tsukishima waits for you until you’re by his side, strides shorter than usual just to match your pace as you two navigate through the labyrinthine arrays of bookshelves. the letter was in your hand, all small and discrete for a quick and easy delivery to an unsuspecting victim. your palm perspired slightly as you kept your eyes open, scanning for an easy person as you were aware of the possible repercussions.

you could easily get in trouble for doing something this childish, but you were in too deep already.

“hurry up and find someone, we’re almost at the entrance already.” tsukishima hisses in a harsh whisper.

“i’m working on it!�� you hiss back.

“working on what?” a familiar voice asks then, capturing both you and tsukishima’s attention, whipping your heads towards the owner.

kuroo combed his freehand through his hair while he had two textbooks tucked under his other arm. he gave you a smile.

you never really got close with kuroo despite meeting him at nationals a few years back. despite only talking a few times due to him being good friends with tsukishima, you knew he was nice, incredibly smart in the sciences, and yet oddly awkward for someone as good looking as he.

not him, you thought to yourself, too nice.

“a little project,” the blond immediately answers just like that. “our majors tend to overlap sometimes, so we decided to partner up.”

“nice, i’m here with my friends to study as well.” kuroo states, causing your eyes to scan behind them for any evidence of their rambunctious selves.

like kuroo, you weren’t close with any of them either. if anything, they were just mere acquaintances on the precipice of becoming strangers. regardless, they all seemed quite nice too from your lack of interaction with them.

tsukishima says something in response then, igniting a short little catch-up conversation with an old high school friend as you lay distracted. your eyes flicked down to a study table in front of you, one of the chairs just a foot shy from you had a satchel hanging off of its side. the brown leather flap was wide open with its owner nowhere in sight as you gave your surroundings a once over.

carefully, you made your way over the table, pretending as if you were taking something out of your bag as kuroo was being distracted by the blond. neither of them were looking at you fortunately. as you placed your bag back over your shoulder, you slipped the letter right into the open satchel right at the same time–the envelope falling and disappearing into the depths of the bag.

“i’ve got to get to my next lecture,” you say to the two men, giving tsukishima a sly wink that it was a job well done. “i’ll see you guys around.”

checkmate.

fun facts! —

after kiyoko graduated and moved to tokyo, (y/n) and kiyoko kept in touch by sending each other cute handwritten letters

no one really is aware of that area in the back of the library since no one goes in that section often (this is uhh,, an important detail for later 😳)

taglist: (comment or send an ask to be added!)

@channiechanchan @elianetsantana @suhkusa @agaashesmilktea @dwcljh @duhsies @thevillagehiddenintheinternet @kitsunetea @morpheus-rex @noeminemi @ntimacy @kurokenchan @kittyddandnyla @amboisez @komouri @stargirlara @itsmeaudrieee @immxnty @spicyshinsou @bombardia @yammerss @crescenttooru @tadashi-simp @sunanyaa @saikishairclip @marvel-ing-at-it-all @seijqhigh @normalisthenewnorm @allielozoya @peteunderoos @inflxxtions @peg-legz4 @kawafika @apollochjld @bap-kingdom @yongboxerrr @kenssister @galacticyoongs

#haikyuu!! #haikyuu #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smau #akaashi keiji #akaashi x reader #akaashi scenarios #akaashi imagines #akaashi smau #akaashi fluff

[nothisis-ridiculous]

Take Me Home Now: Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Seventeen: Country Roads, Take Me Home

Set after the events of ME3.

A rewrite.

FemShepxKaidan

"Hey Shepard," Kaidan smiled broadly, shuffling over to a side table, "there you are."

"In my apartment?" Mary teased. Appreciating the cable knit sweater Kaidan sported. It was a little tacky, white and covered with blue reindeer, but she loved the gaudiness.

Her obvious comment dismissed with the wave of a hand and the rolling of his eyes, "if we're done sassing, I brought you something."

"Not up for it today, Alenko?" It was no longer necessary to refer to each other by sir names, but it became a game. Once one started, the other joined in. Competition didn't deter Mary from approaching the biotic, glancing over his shoulder on tiptoes.

His jump wasn't expected, "I'm always up for it, Shepard, but you are being a little difficult." Kaidan's head tilted back and over his shoulder, leaving Mary to take the initiative.

Mary closed the distance with a chaste peck, leaving her jaw to rest on his shoulder, brushing against his back. They had forced their relationship to rebuild slowly over the months, no explosive sex, no sleepovers... just lots of talking. Sharing. Opening up about things they never had the time to talk about and the time after the Reaper War. It was a strange kind of intimacy when she let her arms encircle his waist, a test of what they would both accept.

"Difficult? I'm not sure what I've defied yet," her gaze briefly wandered to the package in his hands, "is something up?"

Kaidan chuckled, pressing his lips against her skull, "maybe I'm striking preemptively; you never know. But I have something you for- my mom made it so be nice."

She yoinked the package from him, falling ass-first onto her bed before she tore impatiently into the package. Out tumbled another sweater, a plain grey turtleneck with a doubled-up cuff. Best of all, it was huge, Kaidan likely playing a part in that. Mary grinned up at him, "this is nice."

"Well, hurry up and put it on," he urged.

Mary took her turn at the eye-rolling, "for what, Alenko? Yes, Canada is cold, but I'm inside."

"What if we're not staying inside?"

"Really, Alenko?" she half whined, but it was a show. She was excited to go outside, it was starting to snow and she felt restless.

"Come on! Let us celebrate your official release, I had to convince everyone else that breaking you out was grounds for war. Something about assaulting an Alliance Base being a terrible idea..." his grin widened, "though, Garrus had some solid plans."

"Fine," Shepard didn't fight the grin as she wrestled on the sweater. It was much bulkier than she expected, even the sleeves far too long, and the neck threatened to swallow her face. She let it rest below eye level, lumbering over to Kaidan.

The pure silliness emanating from the woman tugged at his heart; this was a much different person from the Officer that commanded the Normandy.

His hands took her face, lowering the fabric to kiss her gently, "looks good, Shepard."

"It might be a bit big."

He caught her eyes wandering to the sweater he wore and his chuckle escaped," you'll have to ask."

"You didn't," her face turned brighter under his touch, only the trace of a scar left along her jawline.

It was another game they had played aboard the Normandy- as high school as taking your lover's clothing was, Mary found simple pleasure in it. In the privacy of her cabin, it was comfortable to wear something a few sizes too large and his subtle smell on the clothing made it better. She'd pretend to steal an article of clothing here and there, or he'd forget to take something with him. Kaidan enjoyed occasionally finding her wrapped up in his shirt and her signature pooh bear PJ shorts. It was a rare human moment for the Commander- Captain, hopefully, less rare in the future.

"That's stealing," she harrumphed.

Kaidan retook her lips, she froze for a moment from the surprise but eagerly complied. God, he loved this woman.

"And I can't have you going out looking that hot," she murmured on his lips, "we'll just have to trade."

"A little possessive there-," he pulled the sweater off, revealing his shirtless form, "at least take me to dinner first."

She was a little distracted but followed suit, tearing her gaze away, "I know a place with steak."

"Heh. Now, now that is how you butter me up."

"Kaidan," Mary faltered on three beats, "this look better?"

Those weren't the three words he expected, "beautiful as ever, Mary." He carefully trained his gaze on her pretty blue eyes, watching them sparkle brighter for a second. She wouldn't acknowledge the compliment, but it was her favorite.

"Where we going?"

A classic Shepard deflection.

"You did mention steak."

~~~ ~~~ ~~~

With full bellies, Kaidan guided them through the decorated square. Christmas music drifted gently from all directions mixing with the sounds of life. Deep laughter, feet on fresh snow, and the wafting smells emanating from the food stands. Mary grew a little quiet, so he gently took her hand.

"Is this too much?"

She shook her head, "I just remembered what tomorrow is."

He nodded, December eleventh, the day of the final push on the Reapers. Three years from the day, there was a lot to mourn and as much to celebrate. Mary just struggled to remember the latter, often caught in the sacrifices made to get to and on that day.

"Do we need to head back?"

Mary shook her head.

"You sure."

"It's fine," the smile was only a little forced, "just let me center."

"Sit down, and I'll be right back."

"Really-"

"Mary, please."

"I don't want to ruin-"

"You're not, but sit."

The Captain sighed heavily but parked her ass on a bench. Distracting herself as she studied a nearby pine tree all decked up in lights. The bright blue lighting of the home fabrication building. Watched the people walk by, comforted in a moment of invisibility to let the knot in her chest loosen. It was too much to expect it to disappear, but it could be made less heavy. If life could return to normal for all these people, it could for her.

The Major returned with two paper cups, steam rising from the vent, "drink."

"I'm pretty full."

"Just drink. It will help you focus on something else," his frown grew a smidge.

Her mouth was met with sudden sweetness; hot chocolate was not her jam, even when seasoned with cinnamon. Kaidan seemed satisfied, even if she grimaced.

"Mary, I just-"

"Kaidan," her interruption hinted with exasperation, "is something up?"

He reeled, forcing out a grumbling chuckle, "what do you mean?"

"You've been acting a little strange."

"I mean," he rubbed at the back of his neck, eyes pinned on the ground, "hell, Shepard. Can one part of this relationship be normal?"

"You didn't have to drag me out here just to break up with me," her voice came out small.

"No- I'm not," he suddenly turned to look at her, running a finger along a cheek and rested it on her lip, gently taking up her chin. Once his drink was in no danger of spilling her held her other hand, "that's the last thing on my mind. It's the future. Mine. Yours. "

"I feel like I am missing something."

His smile drooped, and his head turned away, staring straight into the building in front of them, "what do you want, Mary?"

Freedom was a hell of a thing. After spending so much time in duress, were forging forward for the future was the only option. That freedom was foreign, alien. Her career had also taken a lot of her choice, and she was content with that life. Now, with her field wide open, she didn't know how to run. Her family would be scattered, irrevocably. If she stayed with the Alliance, could she be with Kaidan? If she didn't retire from the Spectre life, her priorities were further in shambles. Mary didn't want to return to further solitude, making her way without companionship and connection. But the thought of returning to active duty terrified her- she had seen and caused enough bloodshed for one person. So much seemed in question. In reality, it was hard to admit what she wanted—a peaceful place to return home to more often than not.

Her time aboard the Normandy had been the closest to calling anything home since Mindoir, almost twenty years ago.

Did Kaidan want that with her? That was the biggest hurdle, deciding to start that process alone and hoping he caught up... if that is what he wanted. She knew her name wouldn't give her all the time in the world to delay a decision.

It hardly helped that the biotic didn't look at her, completely removed from her in all ways. The tangle in her heart spread into her throat, pathetically as it echoed; nowhere would really feel like home without him. Not for a long time anyway. As challenging, heartbreaking, and frustrating her time with Alenko had proven to be-, he had remained stable. A solid foundation.

"You," the word spat out, "I still love you and-"

The Shepard bravery only went so far with emotions, her hand stopping inches from his thigh. It was a boundary she was afraid to cross. She was already too bold.

Kaidan's gaze left the building, returning suddenly to her. Mary retracted only to be stopped by Kaidan yanking both of them from the bench, pulling her tightly into his arms. His nose nuzzling her cheek before moving to her ear, a hand cradling the base of her skull, "I've always loved you, through all these years, through..." his voice a whisper, "through everything. I'm the luckiest man alive. I don't know where all of this will go- our careers, our lives, but I want to be with you. No matter how slow I have to take things. If that's a no, or a not yet, I promise it won't hurt me."

Mary titled her head and furrowed her brows, a no?

Kaidan chuckled, his belly rolling as the laughter overtook him. Forcing him to step away from her, needing his forearms to counteract his balance as he crumpled inward.

"Kaidan?"

Shepard watched him compose himself with growing impatience, arms folding tightly across her chest. Whatever joke she was the butt of, it wasn't funny. Not now.

"Mary," Kaidan's voice turning to the graveled cadence that made her tummy flutter. The man closed the distance between them again, turning her body in the direction of the storefront, "you don't have to decide now. We don't have to go in, and you can even tell me to get lost."

Oh. OOH.

The home fabrication company. The home fabrication company she had been sitting in front of for the last several minutes.

"Kaidan..." it must have been the snow prickling at the corner of her eye.

"Shepard, Mary- I can't promise to know what happens next. I just- I just want a place for both of us. I have some property and I thought... hoped that it could," he took in a steadying breath, the pressure of his hands a somewhat uncomfortable, "that we could make it our own. Somewhere soft for us to land, whenever we can make the time."

"Or as much as possible?" Mary pivoted, hooking her fingers into his pockets, "we could both quit, everything! Retire and watch every sunset!"

Kaidan stole a kiss, "I'm not sure the Shepard I know could sit still that long."

"You'd have the time to teach me," Mary kept him close, practically grinning into his mouth.

"You know, I think I'd have better luck potty training Kalros," Kaidan mused, wisely knowing what Thresher Maw Mary could handle mention of, "but I think I get your meaning. You'll try to stick it out with me?"

"I can handle an outdated L2."

"Outdated!? Ouch."

~~~ ~~~ ~~~

"Everyone would understand if this is too much," Kaidan murmured beside her, "and if you want company, I'd rather be with you."

Mary slowly turned to look at him, the flickering of the white string lights illuminating the contours of her face and the flash of annoyance in her eyes. That was fair, it felt like the millionth time he had beat around that bush. He wanted her to feel comfortable, to not push her into anything that might trigger a reaction. Yes, she could handle herself, but he had to ask. To make sure.

Kaidan had made sure springing the party on her wasn't an utter surprise. Spilling the beans shortly after they had left Alliance Headquarters. Shepard seemed genuinely excited, and he was hopeful; her time sequestered away had chipped at the edges exposed after the war. By all means, she had been cleared by the professionals, but that didn't mean complete freedom. He knew that from experience.

"Traynor better have brought along another bottle of Serrice Ice," she grinned, "Chakwas and I have our tradition to fulfill."

Mary grabbed his hand, pulling him another few steps through the snow and closer to his parent's place. Already it was lit up, and the drifting of music wafted over the otherwise quiet plot. She paused within casual eyesight of a window, watching the figures within with a soft sigh. Kaidan slowly put an arm around her waist.

The glitter of snow in her hair was beautiful.

"You were right," she said with a snort, "I found a way."

"I never doubted you," placing his lips firmly against her temple.

Her head tilted up at him, eyes drinking him in, "I have an answer to your question."

Kaidan waited.

"Jane was me, before the Alliance. My original name... before Toombs took pity on a Batarian's slave," Mary's glance softened, "I thought you deserved to know."

"If-"

"It's long dead and gone," Kaidan believed her, even if he burned with questions, "Alenko, I want to drink. To hug my friends again- I'm looking forward to my hangover tomorrow, so I have something else to be miserable about instead of the past. Maybe, even a tad excited to further disappoint your mother."

#fshenko #shenko #kaidan alenko #mass effect fancition #uugggh #take me home

[phoenixhalliwell]

Do You Want to Know A Secret?

Pairings: Frankie 'Catfish' Morales X Gender Neutral Reader

Word count: 3100

Author's Note: Good Evening all, Welcome to my first ever fic! So if you somehow stumble upon this, I hope you enjoy it and if you don't please be gentle with me :P I tried to write this as inclusive as possible ( I've given them a nickname to keep myself right when writing) so I hope I've done a good enough job of it. Also I hope you don’t mind that I’ve tagged you guys in this. 

@catfishingmorales​ @cinewhore​ @wickedfrsgrl @abuttoncalledsmalls

Frankie happens to meet the younger miller sibling at a party and drama ensues.

 Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

Frankie tightens his grip on the steering wheel of his truck and tries to keep himself calm. The loud music from the party drifts in through the window, causing him to sigh.

'It's just party, it's a safe place. Your brothers are inside. Just go in, have a drink, show face and if it gets too much get the fuck out of dodge.' He repeats the mantra over and over again. So caught up in his thoughts, he doesn't see movement out of the corner of his eye.

BANG

"MOTHERFUCKER" Frankie nearly launches himself through the front window at the sudden interruption.  Heart racing, he turns to the source of the noise, only to see Santiago giggling with his face pressed up against the door.

"I swear to God Pope, one of these days I'm going to end you!" he growls, quickly opening the door and knocking his friend in the face with it.

"Owwwww" Santi whines, rubbing his nose. Frankie just smirks.  "Serves you right pendejo" Grabbing his cap off the passenger's seat, he shoves it on his head like a protective shield and jams his hands in his pockets.

"Thought you were never gonna get out of that fucking truck Fish" Santi teases but only receives a half hearted shrug of the shoulders in return. He feels a pang of sympathy for his friend and quickly  tries to reassure him.

"Look, I know you're not the best with people, but it's a party! Just have a drink and relax. God knows you need to chill out yeah? Lets head in, it's fucking freezing out here."

Both men trudge up the driveway towards the house, Santi gives Frankie a playful nudge before opening the door and heading inside. Frankie takes a deep breath to brace himself before heading into the 'warzone' The Millers party is in full swing. With the combination of Will's organisation (there is enough alcohol here to open a liquor store) and Benny's love of people, the house is jam packed and the party goers want for nothing while they are here. Santi is in his element and happily mingles with everyone, smiling and hugging people as he goes. Frankie makes a beeline for the kitchen, his usual designated safe place and finds Will  already there, chatting away to an unfamiliar face. Will's face lights up when he eventually sees his friend and calls out

"Hey man! Didn't think you were actually going to make it"

Will excuses himself from the person he was talking to and rushes over to give Frankie a bear hug.

"Pope can be pretty persuasive when he wants to be" Frankie has to shout a little to be heard.

Speak of the devil and he shall appear, Santi tackles Will from the side and a tussle breaks out. Frankie just rolls his eyes and grabs himself a beer to watch the show. The boys have a quick catch up in the kitchen before Will is stolen away to play party host. Frankie is nursing his second beer and trying to keep himself calm when he suddenly gets a quick jab in the ribs from Santi.

" What the fuck man?" he growls at his friend. Santi slides closer to him before informing him

" You've caught someone's eye hermano" and subtly nodding over to someone behind Frankie.

Frankie does a quick glance over his shoulder to where Pope gestured and suddenly feels his breath leave him. Standing in the corner of the kitchen has to be the most beautiful person he had ever had the pleasure of seeing. While everyone else is decked out to the nines, they have opted for a more casual approach which he loves. A further glance up and he sees the warm smile which is currently being given to him. Be still my beating heart is all Frankie can think. Ever the Hawk, Santi notices his brother's heart eyes and doesn't hesitate to shout over.

"Hey! Fancy joining us? "

Well that sure as hell snaps Frankie out of his daydreams and panic runs through him. Whipping round he sees  Santi wiggle his eyebrows at him and shoot  him a thumbs up with a shit eating grin. Frankie feels his face flush muttering curses under his breath. He's definitely going to end Pope, he just has to figure out how to make it look like an accident. Their new guest is quick to make their way over to them and introduces themselves.

"Hi, I'm jinx"

Frankie gapes down at the hand that is currently extended to him but makes no move to shake it. He feels utterly betrayed by his body right now.' Why are you so fucking awkward?' He wants to shout to himself.

Jinx gives Frankie an unsure look as though maybe regretting coming over. Santi is quick to take the lead  and playfully pushes Frankie out the way to  get to Jinx.

"Jinx! What a great name. I'm Santiago and this useless bastard here is my favourite flyboy Frankie" Jinx lets out a belly laugh at this and Frankie has to hold onto the counter to keep himself upright. A small pang of jealousy shoots through him at the thought of Santi being able to make Jinx laugh like that. 'Smooth bastard' he thinks bitterly. After a few moments of listening to the two of them talk, Frankie gets his wits about him and is able to engage Jinx in a conversation. And boy is he given a run for his money. Jinx is funny, sharp as a tack and sarcastic as hell. Frankie finds himself falling a little deeper as time goes on and can't for the life of him remember now why he didn't want to come to this party. Time seems to fly by and he doesn’t want to ever leave.

" I see you boys have finally met the baby of the family"  Benny interrupts the moment, slinging his arm around Jinx's shoulder, squeezing their cheeks together before ruffling their hair. Jinx squawks in outrage and lands a sold punch on Benny's shoulder, causing him to wince. The ensuing sibling squabbling begins to fade out as Frankie feels the colour drain from his face.

"Wait. You're Y/N Miller???? I thought you said your name was Jinx?" Santi questions, casting a glance at Fish.

" It's a nickname my brothers gave me because everything always goes to shit whenever I get involved" Jinx replies,  face heating up.

Frankie is in the middle of a meltdown at the new revelation. He Looks between the two millers and draws a complete blank. There is no family resemblance there whatsoever and he can't see a trace of Will either. Then a word flashes in Frankie's head   "ADOPTED" Of course! He'd forgotten that part. Of all the people at this fucking party, he had to be pining after his brothers' younger sibling. Frankie groans in realisation, causing everyone to turn at look at him in sync.

"You good there Fish? you're looking a little pale." Frankie is suddenly brought back to the group, embarrassed by being  caught out.

"Fine, awesome, Fantastic" Frankie replies with a nervous laugh. Benny narrows his eyes at him before  throwing another curve ball into the conversation, causing Jinx to blush.

"I hope the two of you kept your hands off baby Miller, I know what you're like Garcia!" Benny warns, point a finger at him.

"Not me you have to worry about" Santi mutters under his breath, causing Frankie to elbow him roughly in the side. Benny just glares at the both of them. 'And that is enough fun for one evening, time to retreat' Frankie decides and makes his excuses to his friends. He makes sure to tell Jinx how lovely it was to meet them before hightailing it out of the kitchen. He's nearly at the front door when he feels a hand on his arm and turns to see Jinx looking at him nervously.

" Look I know this goes against protocol with you and the guys, but I had a really fun time tonight and I'd really like to spend more time getting to know you if you were interested as well. .."  Jinx is suddenly cut off by Benny shouting "YO JINX WHERE YOU AT?"  Sighing, they shove a piece of paper into Frankie's hand , and give it a tight squeeze.

" Balls in your court  Frankie" and then they disappear into the crowd to find Benny. Frankie looks down at the number in his hand, hardly believing his luck. Maybe Pope can live another day.

 After a lot of back and forth, Frankie bites the bullet and texts Jinx. Palms clammy he rewrites the message for the millionth time before launching the phone on the table and throwing himself dramatically on the couch. He has had found a lot of bad thoughts creep into his mind over the past few days since the party which kept him from messaging sooner.  

'What have I possibly got to offer? Am I good enough? Why would they want to get involved with a washed up old army man? What if this is a joke? Frankie is pulled from his thoughts by a loud buzz and a coldness washes through him. Moment of truth. Taking a deep breath before glancing down at his phone, a surprised laugh suddenly escapes him.  

Messaged received from Jinx: Took you long enough flyboy. You owe me dinner for making me wait.

 It's been so long since he had felt this light and care free and it was all thanks to Jinx. After messaging constantly back and forth, it was decided that their first date would be at a cosy little diner. This eased Frankie's mind as he was already a nervous wreck without bringing a fancy establishment into the mix. It was easy to talk to Jinx and Frankie found himself pouring his heart out about his past mistakes: about his substance abuse, how his license had been suspended and how he'd lost his wife and daughter because of it. Shame welled up in him but was swiftly chased away with the feeling of Jinx's hand covering his and the sweet smile they gave him. The next few weeks were honestly the best of Frankie's life. The couple had come to an agreement  that they would keep whatever was going on between the two of them to themselves. To allow their relationship to bloom without any outside interference (i.e The Miller brothers) Frankie would wake up to texts wishing him good morning which made his day that much brighter. They would sneak in  frequent date nights and their stolen kisses always made him feel like a teenager. His favourite night had to be when they had went out a drive in his truck and sat in the bed of it looking at the stars and making up constellations to make each other laugh. He had made sure to bring a blanket with them and the feeling of Jinx in his arm's quietened all the noise in his head. He was finally at peace.

Of course he felt guilty about sneaking around with Jinx behind his brothers backs but the more time they spent together, the less Frankie began to care about the 'betrayal' His friends started to get a bit suspicious of his sudden shiftiness but Frankie was quick to assure them that everything was fine. And everything was fine until one Santiago fucking Garcia had to go and ruin everything. One night after a nice dinner and drinks at a nearby restaurant, Frankie and Jinx ended up back at his house for the evening. As soon as the front door closed, the couple were all over each other unable to keep their hands to themselves. Giggling, Jinx dragged Frankie to the couch before playful pushing him onto the couch and quickly straddling him. Hands roam each other's bodies and they are just getting into the swing of things when the front door was rudely thrown open and Santiago came marching in

"Frankie what the fuck man why aren't you answering my tex....."

Santi stopped abruptly in the living room doorway, doing a perfect imitation of a fish. Both parties just stare at one another before Santi suddenly points at them and shouts

" I fucking knew it!!!!"

" Please, you didn't know shit" Jinx scoffs while Frankie hid his face in his hands out of sheer embarrassment of being caught. Sighing, he gently rolled Jinx off him onto the couch and received a confused look in return. Frankie dragged himself off the couch and made his way to Santiago, grabbing his shoulders and looking him straight in the eye.

" Pope, I need you to listen to me right now ok, this is important. Me and Jinx have been seeing each other for a couple of months now and its going so good man. I haven't been this happy in a long time. But you CANNOT say anything to Will or Benny about what you saw. If they find out they're going to kill me!"

Santi looks between the two of you, noticing the way Jinx nervously bites their lip, waiting for his answer. Crossing his heart, Santiago nudges Frankie.

"Don't worry guys, your secrets safe with me"

What a load of shit.

 *a few weeks later *

"OK boys listen up! I want a clean fight. Smack talk is allowed but absolutely no contact or you will be disqualified." Jinx announces to the room.

On one side of the table, Santi is rubbing Frankie's shoulder, furiously whispering instructions into his ear, while his friend is just nodding numbly along but not really taking anything in. Across the way he sees the Miller boys sending him death glares. Frankie gulps, why did it have to come to this?

After Santi (who still feels really guilty about it) accidentally let it slip at boy's night the previous evening that Frankie and Jinx where sneaking about together, shit hit the fucking fan. In a slight rage, Benny had tried to strangle Frankie for "breaking the bro code" while Santi  tried to pry them apart all the while pleading Fish for forgiveness. Will  was pacing the floor off to the side giving Jinx a lecture down the phone about the sanctity of brothers in arms and " WHY DID IT HAVE TO BE FRANKIE JINX?"

Eventually the drama had simmered down and an agreement  had been made. This would be settled through a good old game of Beer Pong (which Jinx had picked because the whole crew were all abysmal at it) The terms and condition where as follows:  If Frankie's team won, he could continue seeing jinx to his hearts content and nothing would be said on the matter.  If the Millers won then Frankie was to never see the youngest Miller again and would be forced to live a life of exile ( Will eventually talked his brother down to Fish having to spend a week in the 'doghouse' for his transgressions) Jinx was chosen to referee the match because there wasn't anyone else who could come out to play at such short notice. The only reason Jinx let this go this far was so that their brothers go to do the whole 'overprotective' thing. They scoff at the thought that benny and Will actually believed they had a say in the new relationship.

Regardless of the outcome, Frankie was going home with them tonight.

"Like all great battles, this is to win the hand of your one true love. We know Benny can't shoot for shit so it's Will we have to keep an eye on. We've got this hermano" Santi whispers in Frankie's ear.

The next hour descends into complete chaos as the boy trashed talk one another and take dirty shots and became the most competitive they have ever been in their life. Eventually a tie breaker between the two teams causes a hush fall  over the room. This next one would the deciding shot, his last chance. Santi solemnly hands Frankie the ball. No Pressure. Inhaling deeply, Frankie sends up a prayer and takes the shot......

A rabble of noise descends over the room. It takes him a while to understand that Pope is screaming in triumph while Benny is screaming in outrage.  Frankie finds himself quickly scooped up into a hug, with Santi chanting " WE WON, WE WON!!!" in his ear. When he is eventually put back down, he turns round to see Jinx doubled over , tears streaming down their face, laughing  at the madness. There is a tight feeling in his chest as he suddenly realises just how much he loves them.  Sensing movement just behind him, Frankie quickly turns to see Will beside him. The eldest Miller stares him straight in the eye before sighing and shaking his head.

"Listen Fish, i'm not gonna lie I am not 100% ok with this situation. In my eyes, no one is ever going to be good enough for Jinx, but I suppose if they HAVE to be with someone then you are the best man for the job."

Frankie lets out a breath he didn't even realise he was holding. He sticks his hand out to Will who takes it and gives it a firm shake.

"You have no idea how much of a weight that is off my shoulders man. What about Benny?"

" He'll come around eventually, he's just really overprotective of Jinx." Will reassures, clapping Fish on the back and heading into the kitchen to get a beer.

Frankie's shoulders slump in relief that this whole debacle is over. No more sneaking around, stealing kisses and quiet moments together. No more having to keep his feelings a secret. He can still hear Benny grumbling away in the background, arguing that the game was rigged and demanding a rematch. Santi being the shit stirrer that he is, cackles and continues to wind him up, calling him a sore loser. Frankie finally glances back to Jinx who is leaning against the wall smirking at him.

" Ready to claim your prize Francisco?"

Frankie's heart soars.

#frankie 'catfish' morales #triple frontier #santiago pope garcia #will miller #benny miller #pedro pascal #catfish morales #frankie catfish morales x reader #pedro character fic #santiago garcia #frankie morales x reader

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Do you have any good suicidal Sherlock? Or ones where he self harms???

@vg-remy said to inevitably-johnlocked: can we get John left sherlock for Mary after he returns and sherlock grew suicidal

Hey Lovelies! *HUGS*

Remy, I don’t really read many fics within which Sherlock and John don’t end up together, so I can’t recall much in that way. BUT because this fic is looking for Suicidal Sherlock, I’ve decided to attach it to this list.

So, yes, Nonny I absolutely do. I’ve done lists in the past for Self Harm so I’ll link you to those below. I’m going to put both John and Sherlock fics on here, and 95% of these have happy endings, because I can’t do sad stuff too much anymore lately, so I hope that’s okay

SUICIDAL IDEATION

See also:

Self Harm, Danger Nights, and Drugs

Drugs and Drugging Pt 2

Alexx’s Lists:

Suicidal Sherlock

Suicidal John

Suicide Mission Post TAB

Voices by fizzingweaselbee (T, 607 w., 1 Ch. || Angst, Mental Turmoil, Suicidal Ideations) – “We would never do that to John Watson.”

Stay by sussexbound (M, 2,067 w., 1 Ch. || Post TAB, Suicidal Ideation Mention, Implied / Referenced Drug Use, Kissing, Love Confessions, Frottage, Coming in Pants) –  “Why? Why did you do it? Hmm…?” He takes a deep breath, waits, lets it out again. “Look at me.” There’s no denying him when he takes this tone. “Why did you kill him? Hmm…? For her? After…” A muscle twitches in the corner of John’s eye, and he clamps his jaw down tightly, swallows and sniffs a little before continuing. “For her? After everything she’s done?” “For you.” Before he can even stop himself. Just like that.

Pen Pals by WerewolfDoctor (K, 2,797 w., 1 Ch. || Epistolary, Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Post-TRF) – Most people don’t become pen pals by one of them writing a not-suicide note. Then again, Sherlock Holmes and John Watson have never exactly been normal, have they?

Too Late by SJBHasADayPass (T, 3,390 w., 2 Ch. || Angst, Suicide, Tragedy, Major Character Death, First Person POV, Unhappy Ending) – Six months after the Fall, John is finding it difficult without Sherlock, and Sherlock is finding it just as painful.

Watching You Die by laureleaf (T, 10,340 w., 11 Ch. || Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Post-TRF, Suicide, Switching POVs, Sort-of Rev. Reich., Whump) – John watched Sherlock die three years ago, and Sherlock just watched John die. But neither of them are actually dead. Now an AU, with nods to “The Adventure of the Empty House”. Lots of angst and post-Reichenbach feels. No slash.

There’s So Much Labour Just in Breathing Lately by Susan (E, 12,708 w., 1 Ch. || Post-TRF / Mentions of S3 Events, Romance, Angst, Grief/Mourning, Grieving John, Mutual Pining, Meddling Mycroft, Therapy, Ambiguous Hopeful Ending, Infidelity) – The dreams he hated most – the ones that left him a sweating, shaking mess when he woke – were the ones in which Sherlock was just Sherlock. Laughing or drinking tea. Sitting across the table from him at Angelo’s eating pasta. Trailing his open hand behind him on the way to the bedroom. “C’mon, John. I’m about to have my way with you.”

Software Malfunction by tiger_in_the_flightdeck (E, 16,679 w., 1 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Android Sherlock, Love Story, Unhappy Ending, Angst, Suicide, Jealousy) – “You think I can’t love you? Just because you’re made with metal, and detailed programming?” The doctor propped himself on his elbow, and looked down at it. “I am nothing but blood and bone, and tissue. Things just managed get mashed together in a manner that made me like this. Just like you were put together to make you how you are. When I kiss you-” he did so, briefly, to prove his point. Then more deeply, and lingering, because he could. “When I touch you, or smile at you, does it make you feel different from when others have done it in the past?”

Wonderful, Etcetera. by VictoryCandescence (T, 16,955 w., 3 Ch. || Wonderful Life AU || Alternate Timelines, Brotherhood, Homophobia, Suicidal Ideations, Mentions of Drug Use, Friendship, Different TRF, Sherlock’s Past, Victor Trevor is Past Boyfriend, Depression, Hallucination, Love Confessions, Christmas, First Kiss) – Sherlock thinks everyone would be better off if he had never existed, including and especially himself. When he finds himself in a world in which his wish has been granted, he begins to think perhaps even he could be wrong – but it takes an unlikely chaperone to make him not only observe, but understand.

State of Flux by Atiki (E, 24,655 w., 4 Ch. || S3 Fix It, Sherlock POV, Slow Burn, First Kiss/Time, Friends to Lovers, Frottage, Cuddles and Snuggles, Awkwardness, Insecure/Virgin Sherlock, Romance, Humour, Masturbation, Love Declarations, Bottomlock, Brief Suicidal Ideations) – John’s marriage is over and he is finally back home (i.e. at Baker Street, where he belongs). Sherlock is awfully insecure and John is awfully hesitant, and they’re both awkward idiots, of course, but they figure it out. Many First Times happen.

A Home for Us by sussexbound (M, 30,581 w., 12 Ch. || Scars, Bedsharing, Grief, Doctor John, Hurt/Comfort, Post-TRF, Implied/Referenced Torture, Sherlock POV, Pining Sherlock, Suicidal Ideation, Heavy Emotions, Clingy Sherlock, Hallucinations, Disassociation, Emotional Turmoil) – He has been on the road for two years, and he is exhausted. He’s almost accepted that he will never see London (John) again—almost. But then there are nights like tonight, where he is weak, and all he can think of is the warmth of the flat they once shared, the crackle of the fire in the hearth, the teasing smile playing at the corner of John’s lips, the boxes of half-eaten Chinese takeaway balanced precariously in their laps. He aches at the memory of it, at the realisation that it is something he may never experience again.

Turn Left at the Park by Glenmore (NR (E), 37,409 w., 28 Ch. || Alternate First Meeting / ASiP Divergence, Case Fic, Depression, Suicidal Ideation, Loneliness, No Mary, Possessive Sherlock, Fluff & Angst, Nightmares/PTSD, Sherlock Saves John, Sherlock Whump-ish, Doctor John) – So what would have happened if John hadn’t walked through the park and met Stamford?What if, instead, he walked around the park and just went home?

Impossible to Feign by achray (M, 49,204 w., 12 Ch. || TRF Rewrite / Reverse Reichenbach, Suicidal Ideations / Discussions, Drug Use/Abuse, Mutual Pining, Friends With Benefits, John Accepts his Sexuality, Anxious Sherlock, Meddling Mycroft, Depression, Hallucinations, Secret Agent John, BAMF John, Reunion, Make-Up Sex, Ambiguous Ending) – Sherlock leant forward, his long fingers curving round to grip John’s.“I won’t let him win,” he said, eyes hard. “I will do whatever it takes to get you out.”

A Hundred Crimson Sols by elldotsee (E, 55,536 w., 16 Ch. || Astronauts AU || Mars Exploration / Space Travel, Slow Burn, Shy Sherlock, Scientist Sherlock / Biomed Engineer John, Alternating POV, Mutual Pining, UST, Angst with Happy Ending, Domestic Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Injuries, Suicidal Ideation, Zero-G Sex) – Will Holmes is a chemical researcher recognized widely for his contributions to the new Mars exploration program. Thanks to his ground-breaking developments, the IMMC (International Mars Mission Corporation) is one step closer to Martian colonization. Will and his team of scientists are headed out on the first of three manned missions before the first group of settlers arrive. Three days before launch, one of the crew has to be replaced. Will panics because…new people. The replacement is of course one John Watson, biomedical engineer and space hottie who was pretty sure he had retired from actual space exploration and was now content to work in the nice, quiet research lab. Can the crew survive this TOTALLY ROUTINE trip? Will they be able to endure each other for the looooooong trip in close quarters? Gonna be a wild ride… prepare for blast off. Part 1 of SpaceBois go to Space

The Burning by SrebrnaFH (M, 60,658 w., 24 Ch. || Reverse Reichenbach, Suicide, Depression, Hurt Sherlock / John, Separation, BAMF John, Good Big Brother Mycroft, Angst, Implied/Referenced Torture, Fake Character Death, Rescue Mission, Reconciliation / Reunion, Hospitalization, Marriage Proposal, Illnesses, Physical Therapy, Happily Ever After) – Something went very, very wrong. John had seemed, if not happy, then reasonably content with his life. Sherlock had never predicted something like THIS might have happened. Not in his worst nightmares. He was the lousiest friend ever, apparently. At least Mycroft found him something to occupy his mind with, so that he didn’t have to go back to 221B and stare at the walls and the chair, where John Watson would never sit again.

Just To Hold You Close by sussexbound (E, 70,841 w., 18 Ch. || Alternate First Meeting, Sherlock POV, ASD Sherlock, PTSD John, Demisexual Sherlock, Bisexual John, Cuddling/Snuggling, Platonic Cuddling, Enthusiastic Consent, Bed Sharing, Love Confessions, First Kiss/Time, Sexual Tension, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Cuddle Negotiations, For a Case Until It Isn’t, Hair Petting, Sexual Negotiation, Anxiety, Trust Issues, Slow Burn, Panic Attacks, Frottage, Hand/Blow Jobs, Referenced Self Harm / Abuse / Suicidal Ideation, First Kiss/Time, Anal, Autistic Sherlock) – When a woman is murdered and the last person to see her alive is recently invalided army vet turned reluctant (and prickly) professional cuddler, John Watson, Sherlock Holmes is pulled into a world of intimacy and intrigue he never could have imagined. John is a conundrum and mystery: frank yet reserved, tender yet angry, open yet afraid. Sherlock is instantly drawn into his orbit, and begins to feel and desire things he never has before.

Darkling, I Listen by You_Light_The_Sky (T, 73,254 w., 8 Ch. || Fairy Tale AU || Loosely Based on Beauty and the Beast, Magical Realism, Suicidal Themes, Romance, Creepiness, Adventure) – No one who enters old London ever comes out. They say that the beast devours them. When his sister disappears, John ventures into the dead zone beyond the wall, and finds a brilliant madman under a terrible curse… Part 1 of Darkling I Listen + Extras, Deleted Scenes

Summit Fever by J_Baillier (M, 78,802 w., 18 Ch. || Mountain Climber AU || POV John, Angst, Tragedy, Suicidal Ideation, The Himalayas, Mountain Guide / Doctor John, Mount Climber Sherlock, Loneliness, Drama, Suspense, Slow Burn, Injured Sherlock / Sherlock Whump, Pining John) – After graduating from medical school, John Watson followed his heart to the Himalayas. Ten years later, he’s a haunted cynic working for his ex-lover’s trekking and mountaineering company. Will leading an expedition to Annapurna I—the most lethal of all the world’s highest mountains—shake John out of his reverie, and who is the mystery client added to the group at the last minute?

Not Broken, Just Bent by Schmiezi (E, 87,585 w., 43 Ch. || Pining, Love Confessions, Rape/Sexual Assault, Torture, Hurt/Comfort, Heavy Angst, Villain!Mary, Suicidal Ideations, Main Character Death, Sherlock First Person POV, Parentlock, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Grief/Mourning, Emotional Love Making, Possessiveness, Depression, PTSD, Kidnapping, Virgin Sherlock, Eventual Happy Ending) – "For a second, I allow myself to remember teaching John how to waltz. There is a special room in my mind palace for it. A big one, with a proper parquet dance floor. For a second, I go there. I remember holding him, closer than the World Dance Council asks for, excusing it with the fact that we are training for a wedding, not for a competition. For a second, I feel his hand on mine again, smell his sweat, hear the song we used. For a second, I allow myself to love him deeply. For a second, only a second, that love reflects on my face.” Fix-it for S3, starting at the end of TSoT. Evil Mary.

Northwest Passage by Kryptaria (E, 95,157 w., 27 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Canadian AU ||  BAMF!John, Canadian John, PTSD, Anal / Oral Sex, Rimming, Emotional Hurt / Comfort, Drug Rehab, Falling in Love, Pining Sherlock, Love Confessions, Sherlock’s Violin, Panic Attacks, Switching, Anxious / Protective Sherlock, Hugs for Comfort, Suicide Mentions, Healing Each Other) – Seven years ago, Captain John Watson of the Canadian Forces Medical Service withdrew from society, seeking a simple, isolated life in the distant northern wilderness of Canada. Though he survives from one day to the next, he doesn’t truly live until someone from his dark past calls in a favor and turns his world upside-down with the introduction of Sherlock Holmes.“ Part 1 of Tales from the Northwest

Against the Rest of the World by SilentAuror (E, 151,714 w., 20 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Post-TRF, Hiatus Fic, POV First Person Sherlock, Present Tense, First Kiss/Time, Big Brother Mycroft, Escaping from Capture, Soft Sherlock, Toplock, Insecurity, Infidelity, Travelling, Introspection, Pining Sherlock, Depression, Fantasies, Yearning for the Past, PTSD Sherlock, Suicidal Ideation) – Sherlock has been away from London for nine hundred and twelve days and counting, and has no idea what sort of reception to expect when he finally returns.

Proving A Point by elldotsee & J_Baillier (E, 186,270 w., 28 Ch. || Me Before You Fusion || Medical Realism, Insecure John, Depression, Romance, Angst, POV John, Sherlock Whump, Serious Illness, Doctor John, Injury Recovery, Assisted Suicide, Sherlock’s Violin, Awkward Sexual Situations, Alcoholism, Drugs, Idiots in Love, Slow Burn, Body Image, Friends to Lovers, Hurt / Comfort, Pain, Big Brother Mycroft, Intimacy, Anxiety, PTSD, Family Issues, Psychological Trauma, John Whump, Case Fics, Loneliness, Pain) – Invalided home from Afghanistan, running out of funds and convinced that his surgical career is over, John Watson accepts a mysterious job offer to provide care and companionship for a disabled person. Little does he know how much hangs in the balance of his performance as he settles into his new life at Musgrave Court.

MARKED FOR LATER

Interview by bluebellofbakerstreet (G, 2,791 w., 2 Ch. || Punk AU || Past Drug Use, Past Suicidal Ideation, Implied Mystrade, Punklock / Bandlock, Fanart Included) – What’s better than John Watson and Sherlock Holmes in a punk band? John Watson and Sherlock Holmes on the cover of the Rolling Stone, and giving an interview.

For The Sake Of Being Interesting by SaintClaire (M, 2,797 w., 1 Ch. || Post-TRF, Suicide / Suicidal Ideation, MCD, Angst, Unhappy Ending) – How John Watson coped after the Reichenbach Falls. Hint - it wasn’t positive.

All we do is hide away by AnneCumberbatch (E, 3,895 w., 38 Ch. || Post-TRF, Depressed John, John’s Blog/Epistolary, Paternal Mrs Hudson, Meddling Mycroft, Hospitalization, Mental Breakdown, Reunion, Fainting, Delusions, Pre-Slash, POV First Person John, Suicidal Ideation / Implied Suicide Attempt) – It’s been 35 days since Sherlock threw himself off of Bart’s hospital in front of John’s eyes. 35 days since John threw himself onto the pavement at Sherlock’s side, his knees soaking up the blood from his best friend. 35 days since John’s world shuttered closed and dried up. 35 days.

Because I Love Him by CumberCurlyGirl (M, 3,991 w., 1 Ch. || Post-TRF, Angst, Mutual Pining, Alcohol Abuse, Suicidal Thoughts, POV Alternating First Person, Love Confessions, Violin, Happy Ending) – John is lost after Sherlock’s apparent suicide and takes a few items from 221B to comfort himself.

Premeditated by Mazarin221b (E, 4,033 w., 1 Ch. || Suicidal Ideation, Dark Thoughts, Torture, Depression, Captivity, First Kiss) – John and Sherlock are captured, tortured, and imprisoned - and eventually, they realize, there’s only one way out.

So True a Fool by ladyxdarcy (M, 4,963 w., 1 Ch. || Soulmates AU || Post-ASiB/Pre-THoB, Suicidal Thoughts, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Bisexual John, Internalized Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Sick Sherlock, Fluff and Angst, Angst with Happy Ending, Mild Telepathy, Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining, Idiots in Love) – Every pair of soulmates has one listener and one speaker. It is the listener’s job to find the speaker and embrace their bond. John knew the instant he heard the strange man’s voice that he was his soulmate, but never reveals the truth, resulting in severe consequences. (Based on this prompt)

The Violin of Ruin and Favour Series by PizzaMan (T, 5,923 w. across 4 fics || Post-TRF, Sherlock’s Violin, Angst With Happy Ending, John Plays the Violin, Emotional Hurt / Comfort, Depression / Suicidal Mentions) – 3 years after the Fall and Sherlock comes back. During that time, John had learned to play the violin.

The Gun Drawer (Ch10) by CarmillaCarmine (M, 5,985 w., 1 Ch. || Post-TRF, Five Stages of Grief, Suicidal John, Angst, Depression, Grief/Mourning, Introspection) –  A dive into John’s chaotic mind as he reminisces on the first 18 months after Sherlock’s fall. Part 10 of the The Memoirs of Dr. John H. Watson series

Waiting To Be Known by soera (R, 7,414 w., 1 Ch., LJ Fic || S2 Fic, Implied Bullying, Implied Suicide/Suicidal Ideation, Minor Character Death, Drug Use, Sexual Violence on a Child) – John Watson has been saving Sherlock’s life for a very long time, even if he doesn’t know it.

A Study in Asexuality by ladyxdarcy (M, 8,082 w., 1 Ch. || Asexual Sherlock, Bisexual John, Acephobia, Mentions of Rape/Corrective Rape Therapy, Past Suicidal Ideation, Implied / Referenced Drug Use, Overdose, Past Mary/John, Emotional Sherlock, Insecure Sherlock, Vulnerable Sherlock, Est. Rel., Angst with Happy Ending, Fluff) – When Sherlock, asexual to his core, fears that John may grow bored of a sexless life, he decides to do whatever it takes to make John happy so he stays. Good thing John is already happy.

bread and honey by weneedtotalkaboutsherlock (M, 8,814 w., 8 Ch. || Farming AU || Second Person POV Sherlock, Angst, Suicidal Thoughts, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Healing, Therapy, Alcohol Abuse, Implied/Referenced Drug Abuse, Early Retirement, Seizures, Service Dogs, First Kiss/Time, Happy Ending) – The next thing you are sure and aware of is the mix of mud and water seeping through your shoes as the cabbie drops you in front of the old farmhouse. You do not know this, but today marks the first day of spring.

September 20th by HappyJuicyfruit (T, 10,111 w., 1 Ch. || Time Loop, Angst, Drug Use, Suicidal Thoughts, PTSD John, Fluff and Smut, Happy Ending) – Sherlock keeps reliving the same day. He isn’t very happy about it.

You Don’t Need Wings to Fly by Laiquilasse (T, 11,326 w., 11 Ch. || Wonderful Life AU || Bullying, Angels, Suicidal Ideation, Christmas) – John, an angel, is sent from Heaven to help a desperate Sherlock Holmes by showing him what life would have been like if he had never existed.

Mental by Boeshane42 (E, 18,128 w., 1 Ch. || Mental Illness, Discussion of Suicide, Drugs) – Sherlock Holmes is a patient in a closed psychiatric ward. John Watson is his new psychiatrist.

Other Side of The Moon by love_in_mind_palace (T, 23,446 w., 7 Ch. || Post-TRF, BAMF John, BAMF Sherlock, Mutual Pining, Suicidal Thoughts, Angst with Happy Ending) – After the fall Sherlock goes away to dismantle Moriarty’s network while living through different identities and hiding. But then something unexpected starts to happen. After a while of everything going according to plan, he’s suddenly just too late everywhere. Because someone was there before him, and took care of everything. It takes him a while. But then he realises. It’s John. Avenging his death.

The House on Rue des Boulangers by Berty (M, 24,299 w., 8 Ch. || Alternate First Meeting, Developing Relationship, Hiding in Plain Sight, PTSD, Depression, France, Frottage, First Kiss, Bees and Honey, Suicidal Thoughts, Gardens & Gardening, POV John, Angsty Fluff, Implied/Referenced Alcoholism, Falling in Love, Happy Ending) – After being invalided out of the army and without any other prospects, John Watson has relocated to a small town in northern France. Now he has to decide what to do for the rest of his life. One morning there’s a mad stranger in his garden chasing a swarm of bees, and it seems John’s decision is made.

(Life is) A Series of Risks by SkipandDi (ladyflowdi) (E, 36,499 w., 4 Ch. || Alternate Universe || Post-TRF, Kid Fic, Parentlock, Temporary Character Death, Established Relationship, Suicidal Thoughts, Grief, Violence, Psychological Trauma, PTSD) – The work comes first.

White Tulip by withoutawish (E, 40,624 w., 1 Ch. || TSo3, Copper Beeches / Solitary Cyclist Rewrite, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Drug Addiction (Sherlock), Angst, Suicide Attempt, Self-Harm, Mental Health Issues, Demisexual Sherlock, Bisexual John, PTSD, Pining, Metaphors, String Theory, Graphic Depictions of Violence) – Sherlock is in love with John Watson. John Watson is in love with Mary Morstan. Sherlock likes Mary Morstan just fine. Sherlock likes drugs more. And most importantly, Sherlock doesn’t like Sherlock. String theory dictates the laws of the universe. But their story isn’t one that can be boxed up neatly, tied in a heartstring bow. "After all, the axioms of homeostasis dictate that an infinity sign of negative feedback can only loop back in on itself.”

Sunday Matinee by hogwartswitch (E, 44,597 w., 12 Ch. || College / Uni 1980′s AU || Fluff and Angst, Movies, Slow Burn, Happy Ending, Mary is Not Nice, Mutual Pining, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Homelessness, Anal/Oral, Fingering, Rimming, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, HIV/AIDS, Mentions of Cancer, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Depression, Epistolary, Love Letters, Suicide Attempt, Blow Jobs, Time Skips) – The year is 1984 and it’s a great time for movies and movie fans. John Watson is a struggling film school student with dreams of being a screenwriter. It’s a dream come true when his friend, Mike, gets him a job reviewing movies for the university paper. Sherlock Holmes is also a film school student with dreams of directing, but he’s also struggling to get his life back on track. The job at Baker Cinema is supposed to help him do just that, but it’s SO BORING. Until, that is, a young movie reviewer buys a ticket to Footloose and Sherlock’s life suddenly becomes very, very complicated.

Focal Point by PuffleLock (E, 60,913 w., 13 Ch. || Post-TRF Divergence / Different Reunion, POV John, Slow Burn, For a Case, Friends to Lovers, Suicidal Thoughts, Sad Wank, Sherlock in Makeup, Dancing, Mentions of Torture / Depression / PTSD, Love Confessions, Idiots in Love, Frottage, Blow Jobs, Scars, Rimming, Anal, Toplock, First Kiss / Time, Gay Sherlock / Bi John) – John comes home early from a medical conference to find that every once in awhile, Sherlock can surprise the hell out of him. Can John surprise him back?

A Change of Heart by SosoHolmesWatson (E, 65,436 w., 20 Ch. || Post-S4 / Canon Compliant, Jealous Sherlock, Past Abuse, Parentlock, Dev. Rel., Idiots in Love, Suicidal Sherlock, Implied / Referenced Drug Use, Mollstrade, Coming Out, Love Confessions, Big Brother Mycroft, John’s Childhood, POV Alternating, First Kiss/Time, Virgin Sherlock, Hand Jobs) – After all they have been through, after all the heartbreak and desolation, John and Sherlock want to make their way back to each other, still convinced that friendship is all that can exist between them. Will there be a change of heart? Part 1 of the The Pains of Growing series

The Improbable Match by elle_m and sherlockianworld (E, 67,626 w., 31 Ch. || Child Abuse, Sexual Abuse, Violence, Texting, Mutual Pining, Drug Use/Abuse, Angst With Happy Ending, Major Character Injury, Alcoholism, Withdrawal, Teenlock, Self-Harm, Bullying, Suicidal Ideations, Friends to Lovers, Homophobia) – When Gregory Lestrade decided to play matchmaker, he did not realise that his harmless plan would change the lives of two damaged people forever.

Patterns of Silver Birds by SincerelyChaos (E, 68,872 w., 20 Ch. || Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, Synesthesia, Falling in Love, Developing Relationship, First Kiss, Psychotropic Drugs, PTSD, Masturbation, Sexual Fantasy, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, First Time, Autism Spectrum, Internalized Ableism, Tics, Canon-Typical Violence, Suicidal Thoughts, Psychology, Recovery) – In which love could really be considered a chemical defect and aeroplanes are nothing but silver birds.

Kintsukuroi by sussexbound (E, 91,823 w., 20 Ch. || S4 Compliant / Post-TLD, Grief / Mourning, PTSD, Internalized Homophobia, Therapy, Past Abuse, Alcohol Abuse, Nightmares, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Depression, Anxiety, Bed Sharing, Love Confessions, Cuddling, Suicidal Ideation, Masturbation, Minor Character Death, Sexting, Frottage, Inexperienced Sherlock, Rimming / Anal / BJ’s) – “I love you.” Sherlock sees the words hit John with almost physical force. He reels back a little, jaw twitching and eyes filling. “I love you,” he repeats, a little softer, a little more gentle, as earnest as he possibly can. Because they’ve been teetering on the brink of this thing for years, and it had become painfully obvious over the last few months that they were at a tipping point. This had to happen. Now it has. Now they can see where they end up. The tears in John’s eyes spill over, and he wipes at them angrily. “Do you even know what that means?”  

Be Here Now by Todesfuge (M, 94,370 w., 25 Ch. || Post-TRF, Hurt/Comfort, Violence, Angst, Action/Adventure, Whump, Suicidal Thoughts, First Time, Depression, Drug Use/Non-Con Drug Use, PTSD, Suicide Attempt, Medical Trauma, Implied Torture) – John Watson was already fighting demons when he and Sherlock met. With Sherlock’s suicide, it all comes flooding back, forcing Sherlock to intervene before he’s solved the persistent riddles of Jim Moriarty and his game. Together they find that something darker lurks behind Moriarty, forcing Sherlock, John, and Irene Adler into an even deadlier game with a much more dangerous foe. Begins six months after the events of The Reichenbach Fall. Part 1 of the Be Here Now Universe

The Paradox Series by wordstrings (M to E, 98,863 w. across 8 Stories || First Kiss / Time, Mental Health Issues, Moral Ambiguity / Dubious Ethics, Angst, Psychopathy, Depression / Suicidal Ideation, Hurt/Comfort, POV First Person, Possessive Behaviour, Homophobia, Sexuality) – In which what’s in Sherlock’s head is never going to get any better, and John is nearly thrown out of his flat.

Will You Take Me Home? by Jobooksandcoffee (E, 114,689 w., 22 Ch. || Post S4, Post Break Up, Angst With Happy Ending, Angst and Feels, Parent-Child Relationship, Therapy, Friends With Benefits, Ex Sex, Messy Idiots, Fights, Mutual Pining, Mutual Jealousy, Slow Burn, Mentions of Drugs/Overdose, Suicidal Ideation) – Inspired by the wondrous "Know You All Over Again” by the brilliant Poppy Alexander, it is story of a painful break up. Two men are looking for ways to cope, to raise their 10 year old girl, to find reasons for going on. They need help of family and friends to make it through. Will each be able to do what the other needs? Will they be able to trust again? Sherlock and John must find themselves and unearth what went wrong, so they can build a new relationship.

Scheherezade by sgam76 (G, 197,576 w., 45 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Post-TRF/Pre-TSo3, PTSD Sherlock, Implied/Referenced Torture, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Humour, Protective John, Papa Lestrade, Big Brother Mycroft, BAMF John, BAMF Sherlock, Aftermath of Serbia, Past Child Abuse, Childhood Memories, Drunk Sherlock, Canon Compliant, Suicidal Thoughts / Attempt) – Sherlock is home, he and John are returning to cases, and all’s right with the world–right? But a series of minor mishaps and injuries makes two things very clear to his friends and family: first, Sherlock’s time away wasn’t the grand adventure everyone has assumed it was; and second, that time has left Sherlock with a legacy that’s bleeding into his life today. Sherlock is Not Okay, and it’s not going away. Part 1 of the Scheherezade

Conductivity Series by liriodendron (E, 207,367 w. across 7 works || TRF / Post TRF, ReunionCanon Typical Violence, Developing Relationship, Friendship, Romance, Sexual Tension, First Kiss/Time, Synesthesia, Power Dynamics, Self-Harm, Drug Use, Case Fic, Est. Rel., References to Drug Use, Homophobic Language, Religious Content, Intercrural Sex, Unrequited Love, Angst, References to Suicide, Injury, Anal, Dub. Con, BDSM, Suicidal Thoughts, Violent Sex, Suicide, Grief/Mourning, Break Up) – In which Sherlock Holmes locates his heart, John Watson learns what it’s like to burn, and there is no darkness that cannot be made bright.

Define Vulnerabilty by TheGracefulBlueCat (T, 240,606 w. 97 Ch. || Canon Compliant, Aftermath of Torture, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Scars, Sherlock’s Violin, Doctor John, John is a Good Friend, Flashbacks, Case Fic, Sedation, Sherlock is a Mess / Not Okay, Nightmares, Big Brother Mycroft, Asperger’s Sherlock, Fainting, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Triggers, Panic Attacks, Hurt Sherlock, Suicidal Ideation, Blood and Gore, Drugs / Drug Use, Helpless / Vulnerable Sherlock, Protective John, Painful Repressed Memories, PTSD Sherlock, Medical Procedures, Drugged Lestrade, Lestrade Whump, Drugged Sherlock, Recovery, Crying Sherlock, Dissociation, Forehead Touching) – Shortly after Sherlock’s return John realises something is very wrong with his friend. He, Greg and Mycroft try to help Sherlock as he falls deeper and deeper into the abyss called PTSD. But Sherlock is not ready to allow anyone in, but then the events of the current case cause him to hit bottom hard. Part 8 of the Lessons in Friendship series, Part 1 of the Hiatus series

Radioactive Trees In A Red Forest by Maribor_Petrichor (E, 280,251 w., 73 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Post-S4, Suicidal Ideations, Alcohol / Rx Drug Abuse, Coming Out / Bisexual John, Seizures, Past/Referenced/Implied Child Abuse, Hallucinations, Rehab, Celibacy, Sobriety / Relapse, Slow Burn, Friends to Lovers, Grief/Mourning, Psychological Trauma, Nice/Not Anti-Mary, John’s POV, Parentlock, First Time, Angst, Switchlock, Angst with Happy Ending) – John Watson is what happens when a man can no longer see a reason to go on. John Watson is what happens when a man starts to let go. “It is what it is.” John Watson is what happens when what “it is” becomes too much to bear. This is a story of the life, death, and resurrection of John Hamish Watson.

The Men Who Talked Between the Words by Odamaki (E, 463,024 w., 30 Ch. || Parentlock, UST/URT, Pining Sherlock, Grieving John, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Past Abuse, Slow Burn/Build, Case Fic, First Kiss / Time, Implied/Referenced Suicide & Drug Use, Slow Burn, Sherlock Whump, Panic Attacks) – John expected to be a father some day; he expected to have the house, and the wife and the nice suburban job. Sherlock never expected to have children, in part because he never expected to make it past 30. As it turns out, you don’t get a choice. Crammed into Baker Street with a baby, John struggles with single-parenthood and his own fears, while Sherlock treads the fine line between doing too little and saying too much.

#steph replies #johnlock fic recs #suicidal ideation cw #suicide cw #self harm cw #e-rated fics #depression cw #my fic recs #Anonymous #long post

[wujificrec]

Genre Highlight: LWJ’s POV

Cursed by Feynite

PG |  Lan Zhan/Wei Ying | One-shot: 2.8k | Notes: angst, family, grief/mourning, Lan Sizhui, Lan Jingyi, fluff

Summary:

The Lan Clan is cursed with Love at First Sight.

Ashes of Winter by joannjoann

PG |  Lan Zhan/Wei Ying | One-shot: 1.6k | Notes: Love at first sight, pining Wangji, angst, cursed, 13 years

Summary:

Usually, the calmest and most silent ones keep the strongest feelings. Lan WangJi in particular, feels more strongly than anyone could ever compare.

A glance into what Lan WangJi's went through shortly after Wei WuXian's death. He lost one life but found another.

you are the you who has dyed my lifetime red by Quixiote

PG |  Lan Zhan/Wei Ying | One-shot: 4.7k | Notes:flower symbolism, pining, angst, fluff, love confession, 13 years

Summary: Lan Wangji was born with a gift.

Red Thread by Aki_no_hikari

PG |  Lan Zhan/Wei Ying | One-shot: 1.7k | Notes: Soulmates AU, different first meeting, red string of fate, fluff, pre-canon

Summary: There were many reasons why a cultivator might never join their fated person, although that did not stop many from embarking in years-long searches for the person that was their other half, the one that would understand them and accept them, flaws and all. Others stumbled upon their fated person… sometimes quite literally. Lan Wangji happened to be one of the later.

The Adventures of Lan WangJi - Erotic Art by kitkat2010

NC-17 |  Lan Zhan/Wei Ying | One-shot: 2k | Notes: 13 years, Lan Zhan masturbating

Summary: A few years after Wei Wuxian's death, Lan WangJi goes to buy Emperor's Smile and erotic art books.

Return to Gusu with Me by EstelweNadia

G |  Lan Zhan/Wei Ying | Multi-Chapter: 5.5k | Notes: Fix-it (kinda), angst, friendship, friends to lovers, slow burn, what-if, canon-divergent 

Summary:

MDZS from Lan Wangji's POV. (ep 15 and ch 69 onwards) He would do whatever it takes, even if it meant laying his soul bare, for Wei Ying to come back with him. Chapter 1: Episode 15 - Beautiful Tranquillity Chapter 2: Episode 15 part 2- Honest Confession Chapter 3: Chapter 69 - Departure Part 1

just one minute more by dandelion_san

G |  Lan Zhan/Wei Ying | One-shot: 1k | Notes: Post-canon, fluff, sappy, cuddling & snuggling

Summary: In the hours while Wei Wuxian is still asleep, Lan Wangji struggles to get out of bed.

Sometimes when it's cold by taotrooper

PG |  Lan Zhan/Wei Ying | One-shot: 1.1k | Notes: 13 years, post-WWX death, hurt/comfort, fluff, angst, cuddling & snuggling, scars

Summary: The scars on Lan Wangji's back still hurt during the winter.

growing pains by luchiden

G |  Lan Zhan/Wei Ying | One-shot: 3k | Notes: Kid fic, 13 years, Lan Sizhui, post-WWZ death, angst, mourning/grief

Summary: For Lan Wangji the world begins and ends with Wei Wuxian.

i went looking for love (and found you, you, you) by GeneralPo

NC-17 |  Lan Zhan/Wei Ying | One-shot: 6.5k | Notes: Alternating POV, non-linear narrative, post-canon, smut, angst

Summary: 

In defiance of every celebrated scripture of common sense upheld since the establishment of the orthodox sects, Wei Wuxian returns to the world of the living, thirteen years gone and somehow no less brilliant than before. ------- Before they are truly beautiful, they break; together, Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian pick up the pieces of a conversation left behind thirteen years ago, reconnecting them to the feelings they share today.

等一不归人 by FateTrash

G |  Lan Zhan/Wei Ying | One-shot: 722 words | Notes: pining, character study, 13 years, post-WWX death

Summary: Thirteen years. He's been a fool for thirteen years.

a bout of teenage rebellion a few years behind schedule by bosbie

G |  Lan Zhan/Wei Ying | One-shot: 1.9k | Notes: pining, fluff, introspection on LWJ’s part

Summary: 

Lan WangJi sneaks away from a night-hunt (and his brother) and arrives at YiLing to finally make peace with this ill-fated love. That does not happen. Wei WuXian shines too brightly for him to let go.

won't by then_came_thee

G |  Lan Zhan/Wei Ying | One-shot: 921 words | Notes: Wangji introspection, 13 years, post-WWX death, mourning/grief, pining

Summary:

Lan WangJi sneaks away from a night-hunt (and his brother) and arrives at YiLing to finally make peace with this ill-fated love. That does not happen. Wei WuXian shines too brightly for him to let go.

yearning by wolframvonbielefeld (maknaeline)

PG |  Lan Zhan/Wei Ying | One-shot: 7.5k | Notes: Wangji character study, 13 years, post-WWX death, Lan Sizhui, angst, hurt/comfort, suicidal thoughts, depression, happy ending

Summary:

Thirteen years I have spent without you, Wei Ying, but my yearning has been fruitful.

Your - our son has grown up well.

Family by Quiet_crash

G |  Lan Zhan/Wei Ying | Multi-chapter: 47.1k | Notes: (unfinished), time travel, fix-it fic, 

Summary:

The truth of the matter was that when it came to taking care of people and their problems, both he and Wei Ying were of one mind. However, whereas Lan Wangji was taught to care for himself as much as other people, Wei Ying, from early age, was taught that him having needs was burdensome. He disregarded his own pain with frightening ease and offered up evey part of himself for others to use with no reservation.

Thus, Lan Wangji made sure that his husband's needs were never overlooked, his hurts never unadressed.

So it was that when they purified an ancient temple and its goddess benevolently offered them each a wish in return, Wei Ying asked for his family: for Jiang Cheng to never have lost his parents and his core, for Jiang Yanli to never have lost her husband and her own life because of him; Lan Zhan asked for Wei Ying.

The Price of Old Wishes by SoManyJacks

NC-17 |  Lan Zhan/Wei Ying | Multi-Chapter: 67.8k | Notes: Canon-divergent, LWJ POV, angst, depression, hurt/comfort, slow burn, happy ending, smut, sharing a bed

Summary:

With Lan SiZhui almost grown, Lan WangJi began to question if there was much else to live for. Then an old wish came true, but at what cost? Or, a retelling of the events of the novel from the perspective of Lan WangJi.

I Dreamed Of You At Nighttime. by cherryburlesque

M |  Lan Zhan/Wei Ying | One-Shot: 7.3k | Notes: Canon-divergent, Yiling Patriach, Sunshot campaign, angst, happy ending, character study, getting together

Summary:

A confrontation after a tense war meeting, and kisses stolen on a bridge in the dark.

Lan Wangji had long since accepted the fact that he had no sense when it came to Wei Wuxian. His vision always narrowed down to one singular point, and everything else was secondary, including the rules of his own clan.

He’d come to terms with that knowledge months ago, when he broke the rules Lan by being outside the Cloud Recesses at night, playing Inquiry for the upteenth time in the hope of an answer.

The long road home by dea_liberty

M |  Lan Zhan/Wei Ying | One-Shot: 9.1k | Notes: Post-canon, family, happy ending, feelings, marriage, angst, 13 years

Summary:

Lan Wangji doesn’t watch as Wei Ying walks away with half his soul, while Lan Wangji walks away with a paper man, infused with a little bit of Wei Ying’s spiritual energy, tucked in flat against his chest like it can replace half of his heart.

In the aftermath of everything, they weave their way through the past and the present, and towards the future they'll make together.

Finally, Lan Wangji finds his way home.

breathing gym by victortor

G |  Lan Zhan/Wei Ying | One-Shot: 2.9k | Notes: Canon-compliant, LWJ POV, panic-attacks

Summary:

Lan Wangji, in a pause.

Or,

At the rendezvous point, after capturing the perpetrator responsible for the rumors of Xinglu Ridge, Lan Wangji waits for Wei Wuxian to return.

After the Drought by Aki_no_hikari

G |  Lan Zhan/Wei Ying | One-Shot: 4.1k | Notes: Canon-divergent, Yiling Wei Sect, family, fluff, angst, happy ending, LWJ POV

Summary:

Point of divergence: chapter75, lwj stays to eat that night… and seeing that they need him, he stays the next day and the next...

Driven by feelings and morals, Lan Wangji leaves the Cloud Recesses and his family behind. Fourteen years of hardship later, he comes back as a father and leader.

asymptotic by chinxe

PG |  Lan Zhan/Wei Ying | Multi-Chapter: 26.7k | Notes: Canon-divergent, angst, happy ending, slow burn, misunderstandings, pining, LWJ POV

Summary:

The members of the Lan Clan have never been particularly well-known for their good judgement when it comes to matters of the heart.

Which is why it should come as a surprise to no one when Lan Wangji falls in love with an actual ghost.

Looking at You Always, All Ways by Keysmashed

PG |  Lan Zhan/Wei Ying | Multi-Chapter: 29.1k | Notes: Canon-divergent, time travel, fix-it fic, fluff, angst, happy ending, LWJ POV

Summary:

Lan Wangji thought it was just a dream but the pain of being pierced in the chest by his own sword, by his own self whose appearance was taller and older was too real. The ground under his feet disappeared and he fell, and fell, and continued falling until a voice he thought he would never hear again broke his fall and suddenly, he was no longer falling. It was the voice he had so dearly missed.

Wei Ying's voice.

----A Time Travel Fix-It where Lan Wangji goes back in time to his first fateful encounter with Wei Wuxian for a chance to rewrite history.

Why Didn't You Say? by preciousbunnynoiz

PG |  Lan Zhan/Wei Ying | One-Shot: 2.5k | Notes: Canon-divergent, fluff, angst, happy ending, love confessions, inquiry, 13 years, Lan Sizhui

Summary:

“Father? One of the other boys said that using the guqin you could...speak to the dead.”

Ah.

Lan WangJi had wondered when this would happen.

A-Yuan asks Lan WangJi to help him speak to someone who he barely remembers and that triggers a reunion and also confessions and confusions.

#wangxian #lan zhan #wei ying #lan zhan/wei ying #genrehighlight #LWJPOV #g #pg #m #nc17 #Multichapter #one-shot #lan wangji pov #13years #canondivergence #canon #postcanon #fluff #angst #mourning #loveconfession #friendstolovers #fixitfic #timetravel #misunderstandings #slowburn #Smut #soulmates #pining #family

[mxstyassasxin]

WIP Fic Recs Abound!

Thought I’d put together a list of WIPs that I’m currently following and would recommend to you all <3 

Drarry:

Instinct is a Marvellous Thing by @drarrymehome - A few months after defeating Voldemort, a grief-stricken Harry goes in search of the family he has always wanted. The search takes him to a place where everything is the same but a little bit different. Harry quite likes it there, although maybe everything isn't as it seems.But what happened to the people Harry left behind? The disappearance of Harry Potter rocked the wizarding world like nothing else, and when Draco Malfoy is accused of his kidnapping, why won’t he tell everyone the truth about what happened? Would they even believe him if he did?More importantly, where is Harry Potter and is he coming back? 

I’m loving this! It’s full of mystery and intrigue with a wonderfully pining Draco. A really well-paced slowburn where Harry has been a bit of an idiot and Draco’s trying to fix it. Beware the angst when barriers spring up in his efforts and when Harry starts to discover the truth.

Cherie, parchments and quills by Oleonetta - A birthday gift voucher for Le'Amortentia - the dating service, sends Harry into a whirlwind of words after choosing the profile of one man that sound very interesting and mysterious.Unable to disclose anything that reveals his name or identity, Harry must rely on words via a magical connected parchment to get to know the other man. Only time will tell if they wish to met.Meanwhile, Harry had started his 10th year as a Hogwarts professor, and this year ... one Mr Draco Malfoy has taken over the position of potions professor.

Professor Drarry! Letter writing! Both tropes that I really enjoy and this does not disappoint. The glee I feel knowing things as the reader when Harry and Draco don’t is brilliant and the fic is so full of amazing details that make it really heartwarming and emotional. 

Dramione:

The Auction by @lovesbitca8 – In the wake of the Dark Lord's triumph over Harry Potter, the defeated must learn their new place. Hermione Granger has been captured to be sold to the highest bidder as the top prize at an auction of Order members and sympathizers. But despite the horrors of Voldemort's new world, help seems to arise from the most unlikely of places.

Voldemort wins au, part of the Rights and Wrongs series. Start with The Right Thing To Do (not Voldy wins) because The Auction is the playout of something brought up in that by Draco and I love how fleshed out the little detail has become. Also, can I just give a cheer for all the bamf women in this fic! 

Professors by GinFics (edit: now complete) – Five years after the Battle of Hogwarts, the Hogwarts professors have been totally re-staffed by none other than the Golden Trio and their classmates. Ever since the Battle, Hermione has been dating Ron, though things haven't been good between them in a long time. With Draco and Hermione heading up the school's Dueling Club, it's guaranteed to be an interesting year, indeed.

What it says on the tin so far. Lovely fic about Draco and Hermione getting together at Hogwarts when they return to teach there. I love romantic Draco and the two of them wanting to do the best by each other and keep the other safe from the reactions of friends and family. Also, yey for supportive Harry and McGonagall

Bless the Broken Road by SnowblindLissaDream @snowblind12 @lissadream – Almost fifteen years post the Battle of Hogwarts, Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy find themselves in a life they could never have imagined. Both have lost their spouses in untimely deaths. Both have young children to contend with. What will happen when their worlds reconnect via a spouse loss grief group put on by St. Mungo's?

Draco is such a sweetie in this fic and the way he interacts with Rose and Hugo is wonderful. He’s there for Hermione when Ginny and Harry can’t understand how she’s feeling and I’m pretty sure there’s some wonderful soulmate magic afoot. I love all the adorable feels!

Blue Widow by failedfracture – Hermione and Draco are both grieving for the ones they loved. Epilogue compliant.

Another one where Hermione’s a widow and has coped with it by leaving Britain, but now she’s back. This is as sexy as Bless the Broken Road is sweet. Harry and Ginny’s friendship with Draco is fabulous and they are just as protective over him as they are over Hermione.

Other/General:

It’s Tea Time series by ellizablue – Scorbus is the main pairing in this Potter family drama series following the events of Cursed Child but Lily’s rand James’ relationships with their respective OCs also play a huge part. I adore everyone’s characterisation in this series and this Lily is how I see all Lily Lunas now. Also massive love for Harry, Ginny and Draco as wonderfully portrayed parents and then grandparents. The same mystery, adventure feel that runs through the original HP works has been amazingly emulated here with bonus feels.

House of the Brave series by islandgirl394, starting chronologically with Written in the Stars – This fic begins a series that follows the next gen kids through all their times at Hogwarts with their individual challenges. Written in the Stars follows Victoire as she balances her academic responsibilities and her feelings for Teddy. She comes to terms with the fact that life doesn’t always work out the way you might expect it to, and Neville is on hand as an amazing Head of House with the good lectures and assistance to help her find her purpose. 

New Blood by artemisgirl – Sorted into Slytherin with the whisper of prophecy around her, Hermione refuses to bow down to the blood prejudices that poison the wizarding world. Carving her own path forward, Hermione chooses to make her own destiny, not as a Muggleborn, a halfblood, or as a pureblood... but as a New Blood, and everything the mysterious term means.

What life at Hogwarts might have been like had Hermione been sorted into Slytherin. I really enjoy their take on magic and pureblood traditions in this, Hermione’s ambition to prove herself, and Luna being a seer. The original plot of Harry vs Voldermort is ongoing in the background but obviously certain things are improved, one of which being Neville’s presence as a more fleshed out character. 

Lilypad: Year One by @marauders4evr – On 31 July 1991, Harry Potter adopted a cat and Dudley Dursley saved it. Neither child expected that the cat would adopt and save them, in turn. Yet, that is exactly what Regulus Black does, transforming his appearance, his life, and their world. The family grows closer, stronger, and greater, by the day. For anyone who needs a home is welcome at The Lilypad.

This is the ultimate Anti-Dumbledore rewrite and I love it! Powerful Lord Black is so amazing and his sass is one of the best things ever, as is the bamf oc and the way she jumps on board, no questions asked, to protect the two 11 year old boys; one who won’t eat and one who eats too much.

How To Tame Your Dragon by GloryofLove – A broken off relationship and a mistletoe led to some pretty extraordinary things. A drunken night. A dilemma worthy of the brightest witch. Mainly, for others its easy to mistake a child's father when they're both redheaded Weasleys. Two, she made a promise never to talk about how it happened in the first place. When the shaky foundation cracks what's left of the build for family?

I adore this Charmione story! They’re so adorable with each other yet still so fierce and independent and I’m absolutely in love with Hermione’s cottage (as well as Charlie). The whole thing is a wonderful exploration of emotions and struggles.

#fic recs #drarry #dramione #other people's wips #drarry fic rec #dramione fic rec #hp fics #harry potter #fanfiction #fic reading