#no one look at my indecision just take the sad words

[n7punk]

As Many Lives As It Takes (To Be With You) - Interlude: Three Years Ago

This is an interlude/short companion fic for As Many Lives As It Takes (To Be With You), my Nine Lives AU. It's set three years before the main fic.

Main fic on AO3. Pairing: Catradora. Chapters: 3/? (probably 8-ish total). Word count: currently 17k. Rating: T.

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Interlude Summary: At nineteen, Catra finally accepts help, even if opening up to Scorpia feels like it might kill her. At least it wouldn't stick. Word count: 3.7k. Intended Order: After Chapter 3 (after Chapter 2 is fine too). Notes: This is "skippable" considering it wasn’t in the original outline, but I wrote it on a whim and liked it, so have it over here. The real chapter four will be back in present day and up in a day or two. (Reblogs are off because I don't want this further removed from the context of the original fic, where it won't make sense).

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Interlude: Three Years Ago

It’s warm by the stove, far warmer than Catra has been since the summer gave way to fall and then winter. Sometimes she curses Bright Moon for having a full season’s cycle. Other times she knows that it’s better than the constant heat or cold some other places have to deal with. The rain from being off the coast is a lot to contend with, though.

Catra stays on the opposite side of town from Bright Moon Bay if she can help it — the last thing she needs is to drown, again — but the tropical storm that blew in took the rain to her. Absently, she reaches up and scrunches her hand into her short hair. For being a pixie cut, it holds a lot of moisture, and water runs down her fingers. It’s worse than her clothes sometimes, especially right now when she has at least changed out of her top. She feels uncomfortable in the loose uniform shirt she is wearing over the pants she wrung out in the bathroom and then put back on, but it’s nice to have something dry on.

Catra huddles closer to the stove, hoping its warmth can work into her bones before the scorpioni slowly moving around the kitchen decides she’s done and heads home. Catra isn’t eager to go back out into the rain, but any time away from the downpour is worth it. It has to be for her to come inside like this. It always makes her feel cagey. She has stayed in shelters before, but they scare her, maybe even more than this small kitchen filled with the smell of baking does. Shelters felt like a place where people would look for her. No one would ever picture Catra of all people here, bedraggled on the floor of a small kitchen filled with cutesy pink things.

“Scorpia! Anyone come in yet?” Rose says, brightly, looking up from whatever she is brewing on one of the freestanding stovetops. Catra flinches as the younger of the women becomes visible, shuffling through the open doorway to the shop. No, they haven’t. Catra’s hearing is on overdrive trying to find the threats that surely must be lurking under the stacks of teacups. No one who had anywhere to go would be stupid enough to be out in this weather. Scorpia shakes her head, throwing her mom a smile.

“I put a notecard on the counter to yell to the back in case someone does come and we don’t hear them, but I doubt anyone is out.” Well, that’s the first smart thing Scorpia has said. “We should probably head out if there’s a lull. Otherwise I think we might end up stormed in. Mom’ll be so worried.” Make that two things, even if this one makes her ears pin back. Heading out means sending Catra out.

It will be miserable, but at least she’ll be out in the open again. Safe. She guesses. Nowhere feels safe with this storm all around them.

Rose sighs.

“We can once I finish prepping things for tomorrow. I don’t think it’s going to let up. If it looks like it’s about to get worse, then we should head home, but for now let’s just wait it out,” she agrees. Scorpia nods, her whole body bouncing with the motion.

Adora used to do that, Catra’s mind reminds her. Traitor.

As if she can hear her, Scorpia turns her attention on Catra. Catra shrinks back despite how she hates showing fear. She just wants to ball up here and sleep forever. Lay down a blanket and it would be perfect. No one would be stupid enough to let some random homeless person sleep in their family shop — she can’t believe Scorpia even came out to the alley when the storm started and invited her in, much less that she accepted — but it’s a nice fantasy.

She’s only entertaining it because she hates being wet. It reminds her of-

Fuck, does she have no options that don’t tug at one of her traumas? Outside is open and “safe” — except for how it’s definitely fucking not, even on an average day — being indoors is being trapped, being in the rain is drowning again, and she’s left with nothing. At least the stove is warm. Scorpia doesn’t take her tail tightly wrapping around her ankles for the hint that it is and shuffles closer. She stays out of striking distance even with her stinger, but Catra feels a growl rising in her throat and quickly looks away.

She’s only proving that they should tell her to go, but instead Scorpia just sits down on the floor with her for some reason.

“Quite the storm, huh? Like being inside a washing machine. Just woooosh,” Scorpia seems to mime clothes spinning around in a washing cycle by circling her pincers in front of her. Something in Catra feels warm. The stove is working, then. She grunts an acknowledgment. Speaking words is risky. She has learned to spit teeth at any who approach her, but she has to hold her tongue when someone is there to help. It stings her pride, but she wouldn’t have made it this long if she hadn’t learned to take some kindness. Scorpia gave her more of it than she deserved already when she let her in. The least she can do is not snap at her.

And listen to her ramble, apparently, because she goes, “Oh, this one time…” and then she’s off telling the story of how they got stuck in an awful storm like this while driving between towns and thought their car was going to get swept away. Catra grunts occasionally and shuffles to readjust her position so the other side of her can get more warmth before something she can’t feel starts getting burned. Scorpia’s story peters out around the time Catra is readjusting her arm, maneuvering it with her left hand and tucking it into her lap a couple of different ways before she finds something that she thinks works.

She can feel Scorpia staring. She can even see it out of her periphery. It doesn’t feel predatory or anything, like she’s cataloguing her weakness, but Catra still pulls her lip back to show her fangs. She doesn’t know why she bothers when Scorpia’s stinger could take her out before she even got close enough to land a hit, but Scorpia raises her pincers in surrender.

“Sorry, I’m not trying to be rude! It’s not my business. I was just wondering if there was anything I could do? I don’t know if a sling would help or…” She trails off, already looking around the kitchen as if she will magically see a medical station appear. Catra finally speaks just because she thinks Scorpia is five seconds away from standing and rushing around to find something. Tracking her all over the restaurant again is going to start wearing on her nerves.

“It’s paralyzed. Nothing is going to make it better,” Catra grits back. She can tell Rose is listening, even if she isn’t looking at her. Rose seems just as nice as her daughter, but they could both be deceiving her. Catra is almost sold on Scorpia. Rose… Well, Rose doesn’t directly remind her of anyone she already trusts, so she’s on thin ice. That might as well be the Catra equivalent of a golden pedestal, though.

“A sling could keep it from getting in the way!” Scorpia pipes up, like Catra hasn’t thought of that. She has tried, once or twice, with an improvised scarf or something. It actually just puts her arm in the way and makes her feel more helplessness. It certainly makes her look it.

“It’s fine. It doesn’t hurt, anyway,” she mutters back. Except when people touch it, she doesn’t add. That doesn’t happen a lot unless someone happens to bump into her, so it might as well not be weakness. She shifts to tuck in her arm a little more, like hiding it from view will change the subject. Scorpia just keeps looking at her.

“If you want to talk about it-” Catra growls, “-not that I’m asking! We’re going to be here a while is all, and… I get the feeling you’ve never talked about it. Talking about things usually makes me feel better. Sometimes my roommate will just sit and listen to me while I unload and it helps a lot even without her talking back or even looking at me,” Scorpia hurries to placate her before losing the plot. Catra grumbles, tucking her face down into her arms. Yeah, she doesn’t think talking is going to be anything like that for her.

She doesn’t usually even acknowledge it’s paralyzed. She has had to say it a few times, but the closest she has ever come to addressing anything that happened was when she ran into her old classmate, and even thinking about that makes her throat tight. The way he looked at her- How is she ever supposed to tell someone what happened when she’s just opening herself up to that? Scorpia isn’t looking at her with sick fascination, though. Her eyes are just big and soft, like A-

“I fell,” Catra replies, cutting that thought off before it can finish. Watching Scorpia light up when she realizes that she’s telling her and then her expression fall as she remembers what they’re talking about is kind of funny. Scorpia always seems so open and warm. The light in her heart felt near blinding the first few weeks that Catra ran into her. Okay, maybe she just reminded her of someone and it felt like someone pulling her ribs out of her chest when she looked at her.

“That’s, uh, quite the fall. I’m really sorry about that, Wildcat,” Scorpia says. Catra feels something that might be a trill rise in her chest and swallows it down, tucking in a little tighter. She didn’t realize she was starting to uncurl. It’s just a stupid nickname, she doesn’t know why it makes her feel anything. It isn’t even a nickname, just what Scorpia started calling her when Catra wouldn’t give her a name at first. She knows it now, and her moms use it, but Scorpia still calls her Wildcat. No matter what, Scorpia keeps trying.

She doesn’t know why. Catra knows their family helps out other people who come around here – that’s how she found out about them in the first place – and yet Scorpia latched onto her for some reason and seems determined to fix her. Maybe she’s the most broken person that comes around. Maybe Scorpia isn’t used to people not immediately loving her. Maybe Catra is just her age. For some reason, she keeps trying to get Catra to open up to her.

I get the feeling you’ve never talked about it before. Is that all it takes? To look at her, see she’s alone, and want to fix that? Why? She has been alone for years. No one has ever really tried to help before. Give her a few dollars here, let her sneak into the bathrooms there, but in general, she has been by herself. Not that she has ever asked for help, but why would she do that? They wouldn’t give it to her.

Most people wouldn’t, anyway. Most people wouldn’t get hissed and snarled at and still come running to the back door to hand out food and try to make small talk while claws were flashed at them. Not that Catra ever raised her hand in a real threat at Scorpia, but she has certainly prepped her claws when Scorpia looked like she might get closer or got too chummy. Catra doesn’t know why she’s still trying, still being nice when Catra has never shown that kind of grace back. Adora’s mom used to talk about putting back out into the world what you wanted to be given. Catra has only ever given back what she got.

And right now, she isn’t even doing that. She wraps her tail tightly around herself and runs her fingers down her arm. Her fur is completely dry there. She probably showed it to the oven too long.

“I can’t feel it except when other people touch it. And then it just hurts,” Catra murmurs. She doesn’t know why. She just told Scorpia how to hurt her with explicit instructions, but all Scorpia does is nod with a sympathetic look on her face.

“Is that… normal for paralysis? Is that what phantom pain is?” Scorpia asks. Catra actually laughs, a dark chuckle that feels foreign in her chest. Yeah, big Adora energ-

She clears her throat.

“No, I’m pretty sure that’s just a me thing,” she replies. Scorpia looks concerned and it makes Catra’s chest hurt, but for once, it kind of feels good? She’s used to hollowness, or angry buzzing, or bitter regret, but this feels more like stepping outside for the first time on a cold night, a shock to her system and tightness in her lungs. Eventually the numbness sets in, but in this moment? It feels good.

There’s a warm oven right next to her. Frostbite doesn’t have to creep into her fingers.

“That doesn’t sound good. When was the last time you saw a doctor? I know it’s probably hard to, but there has to be a free clinic or something, right?” Scorpia asks. Catra snorts, her hand still on her arm. She squeezes. She doesn’t really know why. It’s lax beneath her fingers, no muscles flexing to harden it.

“Never,” she replies. Rose stops pretending to be busy, freezing as Scorpia’s jaw drops. Suddenly self-conscious, Catra hunches her shoulders. “I was- I was homeless right after- Actually because of-” She cuts off. She doesn’t owe them an explanation. So why does she feel like she should have one? Why are tears burning at the back of her eyes?

She doesn’t want a doctor. She knows this. Any time she gets near a medical professional, it’s dangerous and panics her. How much could they suspect this long after the fall, though, when everything would be healed over? When she can just tell them whatever she wants about what happened? They wouldn’t be able to help, she always tells herself, and she’s right, but the fantasy of someone being able to is so alluring. A fantasy of being cared for, and things getting better, and more warm ovens while she’s at it.

“I- You need to. I know you probably can’t afford it, but it can’t be that expensive, right? Just for an appointment?” Scorpia asks, twisting around to look at her mom as she asks. Her mom turns around and looks just as stressed. Catra’s throat tightens. No. No, she can’t even let them suggest spending their money on something that would never help.

“No. Once it’s paralyzed there’s nothing you can really do. Any money I’ve ever had has been better served going towards food, or new clothes, or a room for the night. Things that keep me alive,” Catra replies, shaking her head. Food, clothes, things they’ve already done for her. They don’t need to do more.

She isn’t expecting Rose to turn to her, looking like she is about to cry.

“You’re so young. How did this happen to you?” she asks, her tone distraught enough for Catra to know it isn’t a real question, just internal horror making itself known, but still her mouth opens and closes a few times.

There are tears in her eyes. That realization is the last wall crumbling down as she buries her face in her knees and allows herself to cry for the first time in a long, long time.

--

Catra hasn’t really been in a car in the last three years. Scorpia doesn’t question it when she curls up in the backseat, dripping again from the rain that came down on them as they made the run from the shop to the car. Catra is still wearing the employee t-shirt, her bag that never leaves her side on the floor of the car beside her. Rose said her clothes were still soaked and Scorpia could just wash the shirt and bring it back when it was time.

Catra isn’t sure when is going to be the time. She isn’t sure where they’re going really, or how long she’s supposed to stay there, or how long she’s going to stay there, but she’s so exhausted that she just couldn’t fight it or find a reason to say no when Scorpia offered for her to stay with her while she got herself sorted out. She thinks the offer is a few days, with the condition that she actually do something about improving her life.

She isn’t sure where to start. She isn’t sure she’s ready to start. But she is sure she’s tired of this. If she walks away from this opportunity, she isn’t likely to ever get another one, or at least not one as kind as this. She doesn’t know there could be someone kinder after she cried on their floor for two hours and unloaded horrific shit on them as she went through what she could – first the fall, and then the homelessness, and then further back with the “near” drowning, and by then they got the picture but they still flinched when she mentioned the window, and Rose was crying as hard as she was when she talked about Weaver.

She doesn’t know why they let her do that. She depressed them, she knows, but instead of telling her it was time to go, they started workshopping solutions together, looking at her for input and approval while she just sat there, stunned.

Her toe claws flex against the floor of the car and she watches them almost snag on the car mats. She doesn’t trust this, but she has lived every day of the last three years in fear anyway. Might as well be indoors while she stews in her discomfort, right? As long as they’re willing to offer it. If this can last just long enough for her to get in a program or something like they suggested, maybe she can get somewhere that she trusts is safe. She’s scared to exist again, but she keeps telling herself it has been three years. She has the paralysis to show as “proof” of injury from the accident. She can sell this lie. She had it half-formed in her mind already, from times when she has had to brush up against the story before, but she put together something coherent on the floor of that shop, she thinks.

They offered her a home, so apparently it was good enough. She just has to hope that whatever government employee gets saddled with her case thinks so too.

She tenses when they finally park. Scorpia’s apartment block is pretty big, but nondescript. She can’t really tell what it’s going to be like from the lobby or hallway, but when Scorpia opens the door for her, the apartment is in good shape. Nothing fancy or expensive except maybe the TV, but nothing is broken or stained at first glance, and they have enough furniture to fill out the space. The couch looks like it will probably be the most comfortable place she has slept since last winter, so she doesn’t really care what Scorpia’s roommate is like as long as she doesn’t try to make her leave.

“Entrapta! We’re home! I brought a friend,” Scorpia calls, her booming voice forcing Catra to pin her ears back. Friend is a bit of a stretch, but it seems to interest Entrapta enough for her to emerge from down the hall after a few moments. She cocks her head as Scorpia busies herself with closing the door and putting away her shoes. Catra considers waving and ends up grimacing instead as she drops her bag from her shoulder and cautiously bends to set it beside where Scorpia put her shoes. The thing is filthy.

Catra straightens up and leaps in the air when she turns around and finds the girl with pigtails right behind her. She hisses, her tail shot straight out and her fur fluffing up, but Entrapta doesn’t even look at Catra’s claws snapping out and her left hand stiffening into an attack position, she just bends way too close to inspect Catra’s arm, which obviously swung as she moved.

“Fascinating! How long has it been like that? Can you feel it?” Entrapta asks, pulling a fucking wrench out of her pocket. Scorpia steps up beside Catra on her left, waving her pincers a little frantically.

“Entrapta, you can’t ask that! It’s rude!” Scorpia tries to stop her. Entrapta looks up, blinking at her. Scorpia throws Catra an apologetic look. “Sorry, she really doesn’t mean anything by it, she just doesn’t interact with a lot of people-”

Then Entrapta touches Catra’s arm. She screams into her teeth, buckling until one of Scorpia’s pincers catches her on her left side and she manages to stumble onto her feet again. Entrapta watches her with fascination.

It isn’t a great first meeting.

#amlait #writing tag #fic extra #ficmeta #tbh im still undecided on sharing it this way so like. this is where it is for now #it may remain here forever. it may not. but it was not part of My Vision(TM) for the fic #and felt like it pulled it down as part of the main thing so. over here #no one look at my indecision just take the sad words #people who mostly post fic on tumblr how the hell do you format #this is hell #okay i've futzed with this for too long just fucking take it

[gatun-gatunesco]

Fleabag

"People make mistakes... that is why they put a rubbers in the end of pencils"

#personal post #So i kind of forced myself to finish Fleabag season 1. Since the beginning i knew was not something i would see for pleasure #of course was very difficult as 1) i have become sex repulsed once again and 2) she is really fucked up. She needs a terapist #it was a recomendation from them and i knew i just see them in the character facing similar problems and similar way of thinking #the last episode hurts a lot and hurts me more after what happened between us. the decisions they made. the way it ended again #i know they wanted to talk about this. i shame myself once again as i was so late to do so. But yet again. i was right about my fears #about how i saw them reflected in her. how they were taking a similar bad road in life. how they mental illness was going to mess up all #after what happened with him. how they did not said anything. how they just give it all to please him and make a nice memory for him #after how they let him just go full gallop and basically let him use them in the most vulnerable moment so far... #i can only wish they learn. that they realize. that they finally could apply something from the life of another person. even if is fiction #after finishing this season. i can understand and let the anger that i had in me vanished just as fast as it came #but the sadness will remain. the event will remain. the need for me to stay away will remain. i can not help them anymore #it will only hurt me not being able to help. to feel powerless meanwhile i just see them going a downfall. mistake after mistake #i could not bear to see the person i cared the most being that fucked up and not try to help. but i already did that mistake. it finished u #my role as a caregiver is still so mixed within myself. as since my mistakes i would not force nor try anything without them doing it first #so. for them that are indecisive yet impulsive. that are people pleaser even when it hurt them deeply. naive with a gold heart #that want to be friends with all as they feel so lonely. Prisoners of they body and themselfs... #going that softly versus everyone else who is more assertive (even them in a impulsive moment) was not going to work just with words #but i can not do it in another way. i am more sensitive and delicate than one could guess just by looking at me. is not in my nature #forceful? nope. without caution? no. fast? no. i can not hold anger. i can not be unforgiving. Even when i always remember #i can still do damage. just not in a convetional way and is mostly involuntary. i am far from perfect but i am also far from terrible #i am a person who also had done mistakes. But being honest. excepting one i never did something so bad i could not forgive myself eventuall #and i say all this because even with all the pain that is forcing myself to stay away. i just hope they could find a healthy road again... #without the need to make more mistakes or do such things that they may not be able to fix or came back at all... #for them to not regret still being alive. to be happy in a good way without destroying themselfs #i just hope i can be able to see that one day. even if is just from far away and as a total stranger #because i like thing no one else would see and enjoy they beauty in they own unique way #vent post #vent tag #tw vent

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

the things you do for love ; satoru gojo

synopsis; satoru begs you to wear the frilly maid dress he bought. against your better judgement, you indulge him.

word count; 7.0k (this was supposed to be short but i miss him terribly)

contents; satoru gojo/reader, gn!reader, fluff fluff fluff!!, sickeningly sweet, literally just satoru being down horrendous, lots and lots of petnames (he is embarrassing), he’s ur biggest hypeman, entirely sfw!! (i feel like i have to specify that…), reader is a lil grumpy, satoru gojo is the most insufferable man on earth <3

a/n; this is just a silly lil wip i found in my drafts…. i dont remember what possessed me to write this i just think satoru would cry and fall to his knees and throw up blood if he saw u in a frilly dress

”— no.”

the word rolls off your tongue, instantaneous, with a decisive kind of sterness. leaving no room for hesitation, doubt or indecision; not a single gap for his argument to fit through, no loophole he could take advantage of to persuade you into giving in.

but despite all that, satoru just won’t back down.

”come on, baby, please?” he pleads, voice coaxing and sugary sweet. you can almost see those puppy dog eyes of his from behind the black glass of his shades. ”i already bought it and everything!”

”i don’t care,” you spit. a halfhearted attempt at appearing annoyed, in hopes it’ll distract him from the strawberry flush of your cheeks. ”i’m not wearing it. you shouldn’t have bought it, in the first place.”

”but sweetheart,” he drawls, tinged with a sadness he knows tugs at your heartstrings. ”it’s so cute. you’ll look so adorable.”

”not happening.”

”but —”

”— no. i’m seriously not wearing it, satoru.”

and it’s harsh, the flow of your words, sharp and firm; but that’s your only option when he gets like this. your only slim chance at survival, being almost painfully direct. that doesn’t stop your resolve from weakening pitifully when satoru’s posture wilts, though, obviously exaggerated but still somehow effective. you debase yourself for being so weak for him. 

but giving in just isn’t an option, this time. 

under normal circumstances, it wouldn’t take too long for him to persuade you. satoru can be annoying, extremely so — but when he’s being so stubborn about something, there’s usually a good reason for it, even if it’s just that whatever he wants you to do will make him happy. to you, it’ll do.

(his happiness is your priority, after all.)

but in this case, there’s just no way. absolutely no way in hell.

he’s still holding that thing up, like he genuinely thinks it’ll support his argument, swaying it lightly side to side. it really, really doesn’t. it does the complete opposite, in fact.

”but angel,” he tries, again. you wonder if he’s eventually going to run out of petnames, or if he’ll just keep cycling through them until he runs out of air to breathe. ”don’t you wanna see how it’ll look on you?”

a sharp scoff flows from your lips. 

he can’t be serious. 

you really, really, really don’t. if anything, you want everything in the world except for that. you’d rather smash a glass bottle into little pieces and eat them one by one. you’d rather sit on satoru’s lap in a room full of other people. you’d rather jump in front of a moving train with explosives tied to your back.

— it’s so frilly. 

you almost couldn’t believe it, yourself. when he barged into the room, cardboard box in hand, fresh from the mail; all while wearing an excited grin, foreboding, but you were too mesmerized by it to even notice. 

it wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, so you didn’t think much of it. satoru buying you gifts is not in any way unusual, even and especially if you tell him not to — and usually, it’d be a sweet occasion. the kind of moment you can soak in, drink up, and then recall fondly for the rest of the week. 

every single detail is worth cherishing. how excitedly he always opens it up, eager for your reaction, and how you always thank him, no matter what it is. sincerely, because satoru can be awkward with his affection, but his love bleeds through in moments like these.

from expensive, well-kept bouquets to little flowers on the side of the road; from thought-out gifts to little trinkets; no matter what it is, the sentiment remains the same.

(this made me think of you. i want you to have it. 

i remembered you mentioning this brand. i love you.)

a way for satoru to show his love, without overwhelming himself or you. a way of easing him into it, when everything is still just so new to him. 

buying you whatever catches his eye is the perfect solution, according to satoru. and it exasperates you, sometimes, when you come home to five amazon packages right outside your doorstep — but deep down you know it’s more for him than you. because it makes him happy, to be able to, allowed to show his love for you in ways like this. in normal ways, easy ways, that say more than his words ever could. 

(being granted the luxury of making you happy. of loving you, even if satoru doesn’t think he’s very good at that, just yet. but he is good at impulse buying things he knows you’d like; so that’ll have to do, for now.)

which is why you couldn’t help but let his infectious joy seep into your bloodstream, trickling its way through your veins with a sweet kind of fervour. couldn’t help but smile, a tender curl of your lips, in tandem with his cute little grin. couldn’t help but grow a little bit excited, as he opened the package — 

to reveal a cutesy, frilly, maid outfit.

— and then your mind screeched to a halt. 

the look on your face must have been something special, horrified and flustered in equal measure. almost in disbelief, as he immediately began to gush about the outfit in his hands. look at the bows, isn’t it cute? god, you’re going to look so pretty. i mean, you always do, obviously, but —

you weren’t really listening. all your mind could do was spin in circles, trying to get some read on the situation, but it was just no good. he genuinely, thoroughly, truly and sincerely expected you to put on a goddamn maid outfit. 

if he had bought it for himself, then maybe you would've been at least a little bit excited. you’re sure he'd look good in it; with those big blue eyes of his, that cute, happy grin. so good that your heart would probably combust, a little. melt through the floorboards. 

but no — he wanted you to wear it. 

and despite your instant, firm protests, he just will not give it up. your boyfriend is a stubborn man, so it’s no surprise, but it’s still enough to irk you.

”satoru, for real. no! i’m not wearing it!”

”but you’d look so good,” he whines, loud and grating as he inches closer to you. still holding the dress up like a prize; you back away, instinctively, like it’ll burn if you touch it.

”i don’t care! it’s a maid outfit! why the hell would i ever wear it?” 

sunglasses seated at the bridge of his nose, satoru allows you to catch a glimmer of his eyes — an effective method of persuasion. he definitely knows their power, and he’s definitely flaunting them for the sole purpose of making you falter. that manipulative scumbag.

the fact that it actually works makes you even angrier, though.

a sharp turn of your head, and your gaze falls on the windowpane, lingering there as you grumble under your breath. he’s so annoying. you’re growing more and more flustered by the minute, too. 

”— because you love me?” 

satoru tilts his head, white locks of hair following the movement. soft and silky, nice to run your fingers through, but you chase the thought away as soon as it enters your subconscious. he looks almost hypnotizing under the sunlight, with the golden rays illuminating his features, smoothing over the contours of his face — as if the sun was made solely to shine on his skin.

and ah, you think, there we go. satoru’s classic tactic; using your love for him as a bargaining chip, pouting down at you like a kicked puppy. you like to picture his eyes all watery and glassy, everytime he tries it, as if he’s some rejected cartoon-mascot. so silly. 

valiantly, you fight off the temptation to smile, gracing him with another little scoff instead. shooting him an unimpressed look, a tiny raise of your eyebrow. ”that won’t work on me.”

”aww, come on,” he almost coos, inching closer still. ”don’t you love me? my sweetiepie? my cute lil’ mochi?” 

(he’s getting bolder with the petnames, you note. as if that’d change anything. they’re so cheesy it makes you recoil.)

”obviously.” you deadpan, trying your best not to let affection seep into the words. but you see satoru’s lips curl up, anyway. ”i’m still not wearing it, though. sorry.”

satoru sighs. heavy, exasperated — dare you say defeated? for a second, you delude yourself into thinking he might actually give in, for once, spare you both the trouble — 

until he falls to the floor, knees hitting the soft flooring with a loud thud. awfully dramatic. he clasps his hands together as if to beg and plead, a starved dog at your feet, and gazes up at you with newfound determination.

”please, baby — i’m begging you,” he groans, voice sad and pained, agonized, like you just threatened to break up with him. silly, silly man.

”don’t grovel.” a sigh drops from your lips as the pads of your fingers go to massage your temples. soothing what you’re almost sure is an incoming headache.

and he makes a certain noise, almost a whimper, like you just kicked him in the gut. you glance down at him as if to signal really? with your eyes, lips parting to speak — 

but your breath only hitches in your throat, and no sound comes out.

satoru’s eyes are almost teary. peeking out from behind his shades, big and glassy, eyelashes dewy with what you know are just crocodile tears. he’s far too skilled at it for his own good, though — maybe you should be supporting his acting career, instead of the weird teacher-slash-sorcerer thing he’s got going on.

and you’re weak, you realize, terribly so. because something deep within your chest constricts, at those sad eyes, heart squeezed painfully, and when you speak you note that your voice sounds a lot softer. 

”satoru,” you sigh, again; more resigned this time, a little fatigued. missing the way his eyes glint at the sound, as if sensing an opportunity. ”really. i’m sorry i wasted your money, but it’s just… not happening. okay?” 

attempting to sound delicate, your voice settles on a soothing tilt, like an adult speaking to a tantrum-throwing child. hoping it’ll be enough to make him falter even slightly. 

it isn’t, of course; if anything, his determination only grows. 

”even just for a short while?” he tries, voice sweet and pliant. all daisies and sunbeams, tailormade to tug at your heartstrings. ”just an hour or so! then i’ll be satisfied.”

”an hour? no way!” you scoff.

and this time, you don’t miss it. from behind those shades, a certain glimmer of something flickers through his irises — something keen and observant. a certain dread crawls its way down your spine.

”so it’s fine if it’s less?” he grins, changing tactics, smooth and decisive. ”half an hour. that’s as low as i’ll go.”

”oh my god.” an exhale, drawn out and exhausted, from the very depths of your chest. ”satoru. toru. no. i’m not wearing it at all. this isn’t an auction.”

”but it could be,” he purrs, still on his knees. it makes him look a little bit disturbed. ”c’mon. why are you getting so shy? guess what — i’ll even settle for twenty minutes. just for you.”

oh, he’s just awful. you want so badly to be mad at him, and that teasing, smug, shit-eating little smirk of his — but you can’t. 

not when he looks so effortlessly pretty, bathed in the light of the sun, surrounded by a mellow glow so tender it makes him look something like an angel. not when he’s acting so characteristically himself, so stubborn and infuriating and entirely impossible not to love. 

another sigh. you’re a little surprised you have enough air left in your lungs to breathe it out, and as much as you hate to admit it, you’re beginning to grow just a bit tired of the back and forth. ”i’m not shy,” you huff. ”i just don’t want to. it won’t look good on me, anyway.”

satoru blinks. genuine surprise shines in his eyes, for a second, like you caught him off guard. ”huh? of course it will. why wouldn’t it?”

a pause. gnawing at your bottom lip, you avert your gaze, trying to find the words. ”it’s just… tacky,” you settle on. ”it’ll look weird.”

”it won’t! you’ll look so cute!”

another huff, as your dispassionate, bored gaze meets his. ”and how do you know that?”

satoru's answer is instantaneous. ”you always look cute. just wanna see how you look in this,” he chirps, brandishing the outfit with barely contained excitement. thoroughly giddy. ”when i saw it, i knew it’d look adorable on you. and i’m never wrong!”

a soft pout plays at your lips, in the wake of his eager sincerity. barely noticeable, just a little embarrassed, but it’s there. and satoru’s seen it, finally — the road to victory. he knows he can win this, if he’s smart about it.

”i just wanna see you in it. just for a second. please? pretty please?” he tilts his head, tantalizing, showing off the blue of his eyes and the curl of his lips. ”then i’ll never ask you for anything again. promise!”

”okay, that’s a lie and we both know it.”

the grin that blooms on your lips is a mistake, you quickly realize, because satoru interprets any sign of joy on your face as positive approval. his determination grows.

”yeah, yeah… but i mean it! i won’t bother you if you just wear it once. just once!” he puts a single finger up, to emphasize the point. ”just wanna see my precious baby all frilly and cute. won’t you indulge me, oh my dearest?”

he’s grinning, now, all soft and teasing. it’s more breathtaking than he’ll ever understand. he’ll never even come close to understanding how gorgeous he is, like this — when there’s no one around to perform for, when he can just be himself. when it’s just you, and satoru, and the feeling of having all the time in the world.

(even if you don’t.)

and you know your face must be flushed, a soft cherry red, as your gaze falls to the floor. the heat on your cheeks and neck, the pitter patter of your heartbeat; you feel it all. 

and it’s embarrassing, to find yourself so fervently twisted around someone’s finger — to find that you don’t even really mind. being wrapped around satoru’s finger isn’t so awful, all things considered. it’s a scary thought, for sure, but he’d never abuse the privilege. probably.

— a sigh. 

you still don’t want to wear it. you really don’t. it’s just awful. tacky, and embarrassing, and overall unpleasant. 

… but if it’ll get him to stop nagging you like this… 

and if it’s just for a short while…

silence, only silence, spilling into the sunkissed air. outside your apartment, the sky melts into a buttery orange hue. an intense contemplation is etched into your eyes, and satoru takes note of it; opting to put the final nail in the coffin. his very last bid.

”fifteen minutes. then you’re —”

”ten minutes,” you cut him off. sounding just a tad exhausted — resigned to your fate. 

and satoru doesn’t even bother trying to hide his excitement. suddenly beaming, he shoots up to his feet, and it causes you to jolt. ”perfect,” he grins, holding the dress out toward you. a little too eager for your liking.

”— but seriously. i’m only wearing it once. never again,” you tilt your head. ”got it?” satoru just nods, happily, so excited he’s practically jumping up and down — and despite everything, you still can’t find it in you to be angry. 

he looks so earnestly giddy.

eyes brimming with suspicion and weariness, your hands reach out to take it into your arms; the puffy dress, the frilly headwear, and the black thigh highs. you’re surprised he didn’t invest in a pair of shoes, while he was at it. just to complete the set.

(you decide not to comment on it, knowing he’d have some poor, overworked shoemaker on the phone within seconds.)

”need my help putting it on?” he purrs, face suddenly very close to yours — and the sudden stutter of your heartbeat sparks a hitch of your throat. desperate to cover it up, you shoot him a hefty glare.

”oh, shut up,” you hiss, but satoru only grins wider. soft little giggles flowing from his lips, like a schoolgirl teasing her upperclassman. silly.

a heavy hesitance rests on your features, as you give the outfit another chance. judgemental eyes trailing over the bows and frills, giving it a thorough look, until your lips curl down into a soft frown. it’s not that bad, but…

”it’s kinda ugly,” you lie, decisively.

”really? i think it’s cute, though.” 

”yeah, ’cause you have no taste.” a click of your tongue. ”what’s so great about maid outfits, anyway? i don’t see the appeal.”

satoru smiles. carefree, amused — still very much teasing. ”well, we’re about to find out,” he chirps.

you give him a look, eventually giving way to a soft exhale. ”fine — but only ten minutes. at most.” a pause, as you stop to think. what else? ”oh, and no taking pictures.”

”— i’m taking pictures.”

…

the exasperated look you send his way doesn’t seem to phase satoru even in the slightest. he continues to smile at you, unbothered, soft around the edges, and you know you’re not winning this one either.

”… fine,” you sigh. ”but — not too many, okay? and you aren’t allowed to show anyone, either.”

”of course not,” he scoffs, almost offended. ”as if i’d let anyone else see you like that.”

stuck between feeling relieved and put off, you settle on simply letting it go. and satoru continues to speak, reassuringly, glossy lips shining in the sunlight as they part.

”rest assured, baby,” he hums, a melodic lilt to his sugarsweet voice. ”this stays between us. i swear on my honour.”

you snort. ”like you’ve got any of that.”

”mean. anyway — c’mon. i can’t wait any longer.” before you can think to protest, he’s ushering you away in the direction of the bathroom, big hands heavy on your shoulders as they push you. still hesitant, you make no move to resist.

(what have you gotten yourself into?)

with one final sigh, your fingers curl around the doorknob, outfit hanging off your arm. not before sending one final glance back at satoru, reinstating your conditions. ”just this once. then you’re selling it. or burning it.”

”yes, yes — you have my word,” he promises. before you can narrow your eyes, he pushes you forward, gently; bouncing excitedly on the balls of his feet. ”go on, i’m waiting!”

”yeah, yeah…”

the door closes behind you with a soft thud, and the reality of the situation begins to finally dawn on you. the maid outfit weighs heavy on your heart, but light in your arms — you gaze down at it with pure contempt. it’s not like you have a choice, though. satoru won’t let you wriggle away from this one. and maybe, just maybe, a part of you wants to indulge him, after all.

(his smile shone so brightly, in the light of the sun.)

and it’s almost cautious, the way you begin to dress yourself; first the thigh highs, black and silky, then the outfit itself. pulling it over your head, your arms sneaking through the openings. 

it’s a perfect fit. 

a second passes. you stop to think, brows furrowing in suspicion — did the little bastard measure you? just to make sure he got it exactly right? he has been rummaging through your closet more than usual, recently, but you didn’t think much of it. over the years, you’ve conditioned yourself not to question the things that he does. that sneaky, sneaky man.

after putting on the headwear, you finally lift your gaze, tentative and slow — to take a peek at your own reflection. the flush on your face stands out, a contrast to the black and white colour scheme of the outfit. 

and you can’t help but exhale, a little exasperated.

it’s so… frilly. there are frills on the sleeves, on the shoulderpads, on the skirt, on the hems… everywhere. little bows litter the surface of the smooth fabric, a big one attached to the collar, and several smaller ones across the sleeves. 

and as much as you loath to admit it — it is kind of cute. 

still, you can’t shake the feeling that you’re only embarrassing yourself. it’s hard not to think, when a maid outfit is staring into your soul through the mirror — and you just so happen to be wearing it.

(what the hell are you even doing?)

a low groan slips from your lips, and you crouch down, to bury your face in your knees. the flush of your cheeks is beginning to spread towards the tips of your ears, growing hotter by the minute. satoru’s about to see you like this, of all people. how on earth will he react?

(what if he thinks it looks weird, too?) 

”i’m still waiting!” a voice suddenly exclaims, sing-songy and sweet, and closer than you realized. has he just been standing there and waiting in silence, this whole time? of course he has.

”just —” you croak out, words a little strangled. ”just… give me a minute.”

satoru lets out a high-pitched whine, cheek pressed against the cold wood of the door. ”but i’ve been waiting so long already!” he complains, pouting, the urge to see you growing unbearable. impatience tugging at his heart, so excited he can barely pull himself together.

(all he can think of is you, you, you.)

curling up into a little ball, you attempt to swallow the bundle of nerves in the back of your throat — but that jittery, feather-light feeling of your heartbeat just won’t go away. it makes you feel a little paralyzed.

you're actually, genuinely, sincerely about to go show off a goddamn maid outfit. what the hell.

when you finally grasp control over your vocal cords and part your lips to speak, the voice that spills out into the air sounds more than a little meek. but you can’t quite bring yourself to care, overcome by a heart-tingling nervosity and the heat of your skin.

 ”… i don’t want to.”

satoru pauses. 

he can picture you, in his mind’s eye; the way you must look, right now. clad in frills and a cute little skirt, face flushed red and embarrassed, as you shift from foot to foot. and it takes concentrated effort, to bite back the coo that threatens to crawl up his throat — but he knows it’s still not too late for you to change your mind. if he wants to see you, he needs to be careful. so he tactfully opts not to tease you.

”come on, angel,” he soothes, instead. voice smooth like honey, like coffee with cream and too much sweetener. ”don’t be embarrassed.”

you stay silent, still attempting to suffocate the tinge of humiliation in the depths of your chest. so satoru continues. ”just come on out, hm? might as well get it over with. then you won’t have to think of it again.”

a moment passes.

”… do i have to?”

the corners of his lips curl up.

ah, you’re so cute. all embarrassed, almost childish, in the way you’re still trying to be difficult; and satoru just indulges you, all too eager to get you to show yourself to him. ”yes, you do,” he coos. ”be good f' me and come on out, okay?”

a couple moments pass. eerily silent, growing second by second. the only sound that fills the air is that of satoru’s soft breathing, the distant whirring of the ceiling fan.

until finally, he hears the squeak of the bathroom floor. you stand up, turning to glance at your reflection in the mirror one last time, before hesitantly reaching for the doorknob.

it’s slow, the way you open the door, agonizingly so — pushing at it slightly and dragging the movement out. and you can feel satoru’s presence, right behind it, as he takes a step back to give you space. when you finally step over the threshold, you adamantly refuse to meet his gaze.

(satoru’s breath hitches in his throat.)

there you stand, gaze stubbornly averted, expression flustered and mildly annoyed. cheeks dusted a dark cherry-red, that crawls towards the tips of your ears as you fidget with your frilly, oversized sleeves. they’re dressed in little bows, awfully cute, and so is the skirt — short, but not enough to expose the skin of your thighs above the thigh highs. you still squirm a little, thighs pressed together. 

and then, of course, the big bow on your collar to complete the look. pink in colour, a stark contrast to the whites and blacks of the remaining outfit.

after a moment passes with nothing but pure silence, your lips part to speak. doing anything you can to stop yourself from looking over at the man in front of you, afraid of what you’ll see. ”i don’t think it suits me,” is muttered, a tiny huff. ”… and i still don’t see the appeal, by the way.”

— but satoru doesn’t answer. 

he just stares. uncharacteristically silent, in a way you’re wholly unaccustomed to. enough so that you find yourself gnawing at your bottom lip, fidgeting with the hem of the skirt, hoping the smooth texture will soothe your nerves a little. the beating of your heart resounds in your ears, sending blood flowing through your veins with excited pumps.

the silence festers, and all you can do is let it grow, your nervosity thickening with it — until it’s just too much to bear. 

(ahh, you knew it. it really does look weird, doesn’t it? that’s to be expected. 

still, you can’t help but feel just slightly dejected.) 

”… why aren’t you saying anything?” 

the little mumble comes out sounding embarrassed, and maybe just a little defeated, too. but satoru doesn’t hear it. as your gaze falls on the man in question, slowly, you take in his expression with a frown on your face — and realize that he isn’t just keeping quiet. 

he’s completely stunned. 

no matter how hard you stare, you can’t seem to get a good read on his expression. he’s just standing there, face completely blank, eyes entirely obscured by the black of his shades. the light streaming in through the glass of the windows has shifted its course, falling away from the two of you — but you still see the vague, red tinge crawling up his neck. 

and as soon as you spot it, satoru begins his descent.

crouching down to the floor, silently, he brings his hands up to cover his face. feet against the ground with his knees folded, pressed against his chest, stilling as he inhales sharply. shades seated on top of his head, pushed up by his hands when he buried his face in them. a groan drops from his lips, muffled by the skin of his palms — but you can hear it clear as day.

”hold on, just… give me a minute…” he finally croaks out, words somehow tiny. almost shy. 

upon closer inspection, you realize your eyes weren’t deceiving you — there really is a red hue to his neck, one you aren’t used to seeing on him. strawberry-tinged dust, staining his smooth skin, the tips of his burning ears. satoru actually looks flustered, for once. and your heart can’t help but flutter.

— he thinks he might actually, genuinely die.

it’s a wonder, he thinks, that he managed not to fall to his knees the very moment he laid eyes on you. all dolled up; frilly and cute, in his own words, though they don’t come even close to properly describing how adorable you look right now. with your flushed face, shy eyes, and all those little frills and bows adorning your dress. rendering him speechless, clogging up his throat with pure unbridled love. a mouthful of honey, too sweet for even him to swallow.

god. god. he really, really needs to pull himself together.

crouched down like this, face hidden behind his hands, he can physically feel himself grow more and more flustered. senses invaded by the sound of his heartbeat, deep and visceral, until it’s all he can hear — he knew you were going to look cute, obviously, but he was seriously underestimating you. your cuteness is lethal. 

even just the sight makes him weak in the knees. even just the thought of you makes him feel a little like his heart is attempting to break out of his chest. hurling itself at his ribcage with ferocious resolve, like he could keel over and die of heart failure at any given moment. he’s pleasantly surprised that he’s managed to suppress the loud squeal his body keeps trying to let out, honestly.

and while satoru struggles with his deep, internal turmoil, all you can do is watch. looking down at him with wide eyes, as his skin flushes a bright pink, like little chrysanthemums blooming from his neck up to his ears. 

yeah, you think, there’s no doubt about it. satoru is flustered. it’s not a side of him you get to see very often, so you can’t help but be just slightly caught off guard. staring at him silently, until you snap out of it, eyes simmering with something soft and delighted.

he’s so cute.

(and maybe, just maybe — it makes you want to tease him, a little bit.)

so you crouch down, facing him with your knees against your chest, jaw resting on your crossed forearms as you gaze at him. he’s still not looking at you, face hidden behind his palms, shying away from your view.

and then you sigh. the sound catches his attention, soft — and just a little bit dejected.

”… you’re the one who wanted me to wear it,” your lips curl down into a pout, ”and now you won’t even look at me?”

satoru stiffens. 

(you sound sad. you sound disappointed.)

slowly, he parts his fingers, desperate to soothe you — blue eyes peeking out through the gaps, as if the sight of you could blind him. he then proceeds to move his hands, tentative, laboured, like he’s dragging heavy weights off his body. like it’s a struggle. 

with his face finally exposed, all flushed and pretty, bright azure eyes stare at you; brimming with pure adoration. 

satoru exhales, almost shaky. he has to take another moment to simply look at you, as if drinking in every inch of your expression. memorizing every corner of the face he’s grown to love so much.

a moment passes. then two.

then, he practically pounces on you — engulfing you like a tidal wave, trapping you in his big arms as they go to curl around your waist. shades falling off at the impact, hitting the floor with a soft thunk.

”you’re killing me,” he whines, loud and right by your ear. nuzzling into you, squeezing you like he’s a puppy with a chew toy. ”you’re so, so, so cute. d’you want me to have a heart attack?”

a hitch of your breath. that’s all you can manage, utterly failing to keep up with him as he presses you up against his chest. rocking you back and forth in his embrace, smearing open mouthed kisses across your skin; whining and murmuring about how adorable you look. 

a flurry of warmth, of love, of something a little too precious for words. something distinctly satoru, that makes you forget about everything else — as if the world stops spinning somewhere outside of his arms. as if that’s where you belong.

all you can do is indulge him. maybe you’re spoiling him a little too much, but it feels nice; letting him drown you in his overwhelming affection. the thought of creasing the dress doesn’t even seem to cross his mind, as he squeezes the life out of you.

evidently, satoru suffers from an acute case of cuteness aggression. 

”so adorable,” he murmurs, leaving wet kisses on your cheeks. his exaggerated mwahs make you feel just a tad shy. ”my little sweetheart. all dressed up for me.” 

squirming in his hold, he only brings you closer, smothering you in his warm embrace. the slightly erratic beating of his heart is all you can hear, with your cheek squished against his chest. arms keeping you nice and still, lips lingering over that one ticklish spot behind your ear. 

a little giggle slips from your lips, and satoru feels himself smile; wide and giddy, boyish and adoring. nuzzling into the comfort of your chest, soft fabric brushing against his skin, a low whine escapes his throat. ”can't take it. wanna put you in my pocket.”

”your pocket?” a grin blooms on your lips, words dripping with honeyed amusement. satoru grins right back.

”my pocket,” he hums, approvingly. ”you’re just so cute and small. gotta keep you close, so i don’t lose you.”

a huff, lighthearted. 

suddenly, the grip around your midriff tightens — and you’re hoisted up, stumbling a little as satoru lets go of you. still holding onto you by your wrists, softly, delicately, as if you’re made of glass. when you lift your head, all you can see is his satisfied little grin, and the twinkle of his eyes.

your heart flutters. 

satoru gazes at you, silently, still drinking you in. every second spent staring into the brightness of your eyes fills his heart up just a little more; colourful, heart-shaped candies, scooped up and poured into the hole in his chest. patching it right back up, so effortlessly sweet that it makes him want to pluck every star from the sky and offer them at your feet. 

”alright,” he breathes, taking a step back. breaking the delicate silence, a little dance between him and time. fingers still curled around your wrist. ”do a twirl for me.”

a humoured scoff. ”hell no.”

”aw, come on! you gotta pose for the photo, baby.”

before you know it, satoru’s got his phone out — and it’s aimed right at you. by the time you notice it, you’re fairly certain he’s already managed to snap a couple pictures. so all you can do is sigh, in faux exasperation.

”c’mon, c’mon,” he coos. ”give me a smile, pretty.”

a roll of your eyes, as you bite your lip to muffle a soft bout of laughter. it doesn’t really work. ”i’m good.”

satoru seems unaffected by your words, pulling back from your touch reluctantly; just so he can make a show out of playing the cameraman, switching between elaborate positions and taking pictures from angle after angle. somehow, you get the feeling he’s forgotten your request to keep the pictures to a minimum.

(he looks like he’s having fun, though. so you let it slide. just this once.)

”god. you’re way too cute for your own good, you know that?” he murmurs, leaning down to take another picture. and it flusters you, how smoothly the words slip from his lips, how it seems like he barely even has to think about them at all. 

it’s a little embarrassing, in a heart-fluttering kind of way. but you do your best to hide it.

”you’re a sap,” is all you say, soft smile playing at your lips. 

”and you’re adorable,” satoru grins. 

then he slips his phone into his back pocket, satisfied with the collection, and grabs your hand.

his fingers curl around yours, softly — and then he lifts it up. bringing it to his lips. they’re warm, as he kisses across your knuckles, the tips of your fingers. soft as a feather, tickling your skin. 

(as if he’s whispering psalms under his breath. as if he’s worshipping you.)

then he tilts his head, eyes gazing at you sweetly. sweeter than fresh mandarin slices, splotches of marmalade, his favorite caramel fudge. and his eyes crinkle, crow’s feet and dimples peeking out as he smiles, an easygoing kind of joy blooming on that pretty face of his — youthful, boyish. it suits him more than anything.

his voice comes out smooth, awfully coaxing. so very easy to give in to, paired with that breathtaking grin. 

”one tiny twirl?” he asks, politely.

he’s so annoying. 

(but you’re far too in love to say no.)

so with a single roll of your eyes, and a soft little scoff, you relent. indulging him once more, just one more time. just one little twirl.

satoru feels his heart squeeze painfully, deep within his chest, as he watches you spin around. skirt and frills ruffled by the movement. just once, a soft little twirl with your fingers intertwined. far too precious for his heart to take.

when you stop, just a tiny bit dizzy, he leans in, and the kiss he leaves on your forehead is soft. chaste, but it still pulls a blissful sigh from the back of your throat. satoru’s lips curl up against your skin, before he pulls back — eyes almost overflowing with affection.

”cutie.”

you blink. 

averting your gaze, flustering a little under the weight of his love-filled eyes, all you can do is emit a soft little huff. embarrassed, as it flows from your lips. but it only makes satoru’s smile grow further.

”okay, okay. you’ve had your fun.” you clear your throat. ”time’s up.”

suddenly, satoru’s eyes fill with something akin to dread — nose crinkling, just barely, a sign of his displeasure. ”noooo,” he whines, draping his arms around you. tugging you close. ”just a little more? please? pretty please?”

”nope! we said ten minutes. no take backs.”

”can’t i have an extension? since i’m your favorite?” satoru pouts, puppy dog eyes in full force. only this time, they don’t work as well as he’d hoped.

”nope,” you repeat, popping the p. ”sorry.” another whine buzzes right by your ear, and you smile. 

”and then we’re burning it.”

”noooo!” 

”sorry, but it’s gotta go.” you bite back a soft grin. satoru sounds agonized, voice dripping with grief, and it makes your heart dance with barely contained laughter.

”but then you can’t wear it anymore, baby…”

”that’s kinda the point, toru.”

”but you’re so cute in it,” he pouts, bringing you closer still. squeezing at your waist and rubbing his cheek against the top of your head. ”it’d be such a waste if you never wore it again, don’tcha think?”

he’s trying his best, you can tell — attempting to make you falter, coax you into wearing it just a little longer. but for today, you’re done indulging him.

”well, too bad.” nuzzling into his neck, your tone settles on a firm tilt; decisive, as you nip at his skin. just a little teasing. ”i said i’d never wear it again, and i meant it.”

a moment passes. maybe it’s the warmth of your lips on his skin, or maybe he can tell you aren’t budging — whatever the case, satoru finally seems to relent. an exhale tumbles from his tongue, deep and drawn out. ”fineee,” he drawls. ”i’ll just buy you a new one.”

”i won’t wear it. i’ll just get angry.”

”at lil’ old me? really?”

”really really,” you click your tongue. ”if you love maid outfits so much, why don’t you wear one yourself?” a beat. ”it’d look good on you.”

satoru perks up, suddenly. pulling away so his eyes can meet yours, bright and teasing, glazed over with something excited. ”oh?” he purrs. ”you wanna see me in one, huh? so bold, baby.”

a scoff slips from your lips, sharp but tinged with laughter. ”well, it’s only fair, right?” grinning up at him, your hand reaches out to smooth away his bangs. fingertips trailing across the expanse of skin, touch so very tender that his eyes flutter shut. ”i think you’d pull it off better than i ever could, anyway.”

a hum buzzes in his throat, seconds ticking by slowly; a dance with him and time. an attempt to prolong the softness of the moment.

”hmm… well, i’ll consider it.” just barely holding back a smile, he leans into your touch. ”you gotta wear it with me, though. we can buy a matching set!”

”that makes no sense,” you huff, with a raise of your brow. ”i’ve already worn it once, so next time, it’s gotta be all you.”

”sorry, baby, but you need to do it too.” he cradles you close, smoothing a palm down your spine, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. chest rumbling with the smooth timbre of his voice, words rich with teasing fondness. ”i’m too shy to do it by myself.”

and you really, really wish you could be angry with him — but it’s just impossible. 

satoru is just way too lovable, smile far too sunny and warm for you not to melt under. and his caress says more than words ever could, light and doting, careful and loving; like how a believer cups a handful of holy water. as if you could slip from his grasp at any moment, so he has to keep you extra close.

in the end, all protests and complaints die on your tongue. you only laugh, soft and breathy, filling the air with a fondness so palpable you can almost taste it. bordering on something close to a scoff, but never quite getting there. 

eventually, satoru does — begrudgingly — let you change out of the outfit. whining a little, sulking a tad, before brightening right back up again. like clockwork, the sun peeking out after a rain shower, the calm after the storm. always that same happy smile, wrapping you around his little finger.

satoru, in all his glory; your very own pocket of sunshine. annoying, stubborn, thoughtful — 

and yours, wholly and thoroughly.

(while you’re busy gazing at him adoringly, satoru grumbles under his breath. contemplation painted on his features, as his mind spins in circles. frills, bows, lace…

what kind of design would make him look the prettiest for you?)

#satoru ”my girl look so good today im abt to scream and moan and throw up” gojo #he is so husband coded to me. so unbelievably babygirl #he would absolutely wear a maid dress if u asked him to btw. and he would rock that shit so hard. #just……. gojo in a dress………….. breathe if u agree #im a firm believer in flustered satoru also….. #it wouldnt happen often but if u act cute enough i just think smth in his brain stops working #and he grins rly wide and tries to cover his face w his hands so you wont see how much hes blushing. if u tease him more he squeaks #who said that. #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x you #gojo x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jjk #gojo fluff #jjk fluff

[shawnxstyles]

personal

DATE: JULY 24, 2023

summary: you and harry are best friends who tell each other everything. or so you thought. when harry finds out you’ve barely done anything sexual, he offers to change that. and then things get a little… personal.

song: Glitch- taylor swift (this song seems fitting)

words: 6.5k

warnings: SMUT (f- receiving [rubbing, fingering, nipple play, praise kink], mirror sex, cum tasting??, dirty talk), and language.

note: i literally wrote this in a few days i think. this idea is so basic, but who doesn’t love a cliché concept? PART 2

bestfriend!fratrry x inexperienced!reader (because i literally write no one else and fratrry is the love of my life)

—

Harry had a lot of friends. People that he grew up with and some that he met along the way that just stayed. But you were his number one overall, and he told you everything. You told him everything too.

Well, almost everything.

It never really caught his attention that you guys never talked about sex. You guys have been friends for 15 years, since you were five, so you’d think it would have been brought up at least once. But now that Harry thinks about it, he can’t think of one time you’ve talked about the act.

He didn’t think it would be like this. And he didn’t think you’d answer like that.

You and Harry were casually hanging out on a free school day, just like you always do. And then you start talking about this date you went on and how the guy was great. Harry was happy for you, he really was. All he wanted was to see his best friend happier than happy. However, being the best friend he was, he was nagging and joking with you.

“Think he’s the one, eh?” Harry jokes, nudging your shoulder playfully on your couch.

“Oh, stop it. Don’t get ahead of yourself,” You roll your eyes and cross your arms. Yeah, Mike seemed like a decent guy and maybe you could have a relationship for a short time, but he was nowhere near “the one.”

You weren’t too desperate for a relationship, you liked whatever came to you. This cute guy asked you on a date a week ago and you weren’t going to say no. Because what if he was the one? He wasn’t, but what if?

“Imagine it, Doll,” Harry started. He began calling you Doll when you two were just kids. You loved to collect dolls of all sorts, but you never dared to take them out of the box. Harry thought it was silly, but also cool. “picket white fence, beautiful lake house. Kids runnin’ ‘round—”

He saw your face cringe at the word kids. He tilted his head in confusion, arm moving to rest behind you on the couch. He scoots closer to you and waits for you to respond.

“No kids for me,” You awkwardly chuckle. It seemed almost sad the way you sounded.

“What? Thought you wanted to be a mum?”

“Not anymore,” You breathed out with an awkward smile, “need a husband to do that.”

“Don’t worry ‘bout getting a husband. Shouldn’t stop you from wanting ‘em,” Harry smiled sincerely at you and you nodded while looking down.

“Plus, you could always just go out on the street and ask some good-lookin’ lad to be the father of your kids!” You socked Harry hard in the shoulder. He lets out a hearty laugh because he always ruins a sweet moment with a stupid joke. That’s just how you like it though.

“I’m not a prostitute!”

“Never said tha’.”

“Can we just watch some TV? You’re annoying me,” You roll your eyes as you reach for the remote. Harry continues to laugh as you switch the television on.

When you’re indecisive, you toss the remote to Harry and he shuffles through the stations. He lands on a random one, also indecisive. You guys were too similar sometimes.

“Look on your phone for somethin’ and then I’ll find it. I’m done searching.”

“You looked for like two seconds!” You laughed at his laziness. He shrugs with a smile, leaning into the couch. Again, you roll your eyes playfully before doing a bit of research on your phone.

Suddenly, a moan echoes throughout your living room and your whole body stiffens up. Harry notices and tears his eyes away from the screen, which was portraying the sexy noises. You don’t look at him even though you can feel his eyes burning into you.

“Alright?” he asked out of concern, peering at your rigidness. He’s only ever seen you get like that when you were anxious or scared, but nothing happened. Maybe you saw something scary on your phone?

“Uh, yeah,” You squeaked as the TV moaned again. Your face cringes and you force yourself to keep your eyes on your phone.

“Y/N, seriously,” Harry stares between you and the screen when she noisily moans again. The woman was being eaten out by the man and was being overly loud. Her back was arching and her breasts were on display. The movie was inappropriate, 18+ for sure, but it was nothing you hadn’t seen before. Right? You were both 21 years old.

“This… just makes me a tad uncomfortable is all,” You answered honestly, voice quiet as your legs tightened together. Harry’s eyebrows pursed together.

“Uncomfortable? Why?” he couldn’t help the question that slipped out of his mouth. He was too curious to know why a little movie made you stiff yet fidgety.

Unless… you were feeling something different than uncomfortable.

“No,” You shook your head and attempted to push yourself off the couch. Harry didn’t hesitate to grab your wrist and pull you back. He didn’t want you to run away and for you to feel like you couldn’t tell him something.

“Just tell me.”

“No,” You stood your ground, way too embarrassed to say something. Way too embarrassed to admit that you’ve never had sex before. Way too embarrassed to admit you’ve never done anything more than rub your own clit. Once. And it didn’t even feel that good.

Your skin was fiery and… tingly. Harry was much closer to you than he previously was because he pulled you closer to him. Your bare thighs were touching, warm on warm with a sudden spark. You didn’t know you weren’t breathing until you inhaled deeply at Harry’s hooking stare.

“Doll, you tell me everything, but you can’t tell me why a little porn makes you uncomfortable? Because I know it’s tha’.”

“Ugh,” You groaned between clenched teeth. You threw your head back until it hit the top of the couch. Harry’s grip on your wrist never left you. He squeezed it reassuringly, letting you know that he supports you in whatever you’re going to say.

Are you really about to say it?

“Y/N, just—”

“No.”

“I thought we were best friends—”

“Do not pull that card!”

“But—”

“I’ve never had sex before, okay?” You shouted over Harry’s pleading voice and the echoing moans from the television. You’d think by the time you had a whole argument they’d be done having sex, but nope.

Harry was cut off, so his mouth was slacked open. Once he realizes his jaw is on the floor, he blinks a few times to really process what you’ve said. If you had told anyone else, they would have harshly judged you. Harry wasn’t necessarily too different, but he was your best friend, and he was going to try his hardest not too. Harry was just more shocked if anything. He had a handful of different bodies, enough to give him a good amount of experience. So when he finds out you’ve done nothing, he’s beyond surprised to his core.

“But you’ve had so many dates,” Harry looks over at your face, which was looking down at your lap. Your wrist was still trapped in his hand, but you were twiddling your thumbs like you were in trouble. He starts rubbing reassuring circles with his thumb over your knuckle. Your skin was so hot, and Harry’s theory of you being turned on continued in his mind.

Did you even know what that meant? You were naive, right?

“So? That doesn’t mean anything,” Your attitude was shining through. But deep down, you were more embarrassed than anything. This was just your coping mechanism. And of course, Harry knew that.

“Surely you’ve done something else,” Harry suggests. You pin him with a knowing look and a long blink.

“I haven’t,” You answered before even hearing his question. He clearly doesn’t care about your reply because he’s asking you a series of interrogation questions.

“Have you had someone eat you out—” Harry points to the screen, but it was on a commercial break now. You got the point, but Harry clearly didn’t.

“No,” You grumbled.

“What about fingering—”

“No.”

“A toy?”

“Where would I even buy that?”

“Or—”

“No, Harry. Nothing.”

“Not even rubbing?” he asks. You stay quiet, unsure if you want to admit the one-time experiment you did.

Why does it even matter? You tried it and you realized you don’t like it, so you never have to do it again right?

“Not… really,” You hesitated. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion while your skin burned at boiling temperature.

“Humping?”

“No—I tried to…” You couldn’t get the words out. Not ever you’d think. But especially not with Harry so close to you. His body was warm, not as warm as yours, but it was eliciting something inside of you that you couldn’t comprehend. The way he nonchalantly said so many dirty things made you dizzy.

“Tried to what?” Harry was thinking of so many things you could say. He wanted to finish your sentence, just like how he wanted to finish you until you were crying his name and soaking him. But he wanted to hear you say it. He’s never thought of you in such an explicit way, but with the words and tension floating in the air it was hard not to.

“…do it myself.”

“And how did that work out, Doll?”

“Um,” You didn’t expect him to ask. Your neck and cheeks light up in small flames. Where did this come from? “I…”

“What? I thought you could tell me anything?” When your eyes flickered up to his, they were a dark, swirling green you’ve never seen on his face before. Your heart skipped a dangerous beat, frightened with anticipation.

“I know, I can. But this… it’s different.”

“How so?”

“It’s personal—”

“Best friends are personal.”

“But not like this. Best friends don’t do this,” You tried to get up again, nearly ripping yourself away from his grip. But you were in too deep now. Harry wasn’t going to let this one slide. His mind was thinking about one thing and one thing only.

You.

He yanks you back and twirls you around, releasing your wrist in the process. He grabs you by the hips and pulls you down to his lap. You couldn’t contain the slight gasp you let out at the feeling of his strong legs beneath you. Your legs were on either side of him, tempting to squeeze shut. Every movement you made Harry would feel in this position.

“Best friends can say anything. They can do anything too,” Harry’s hands caress your thighs. They’re comforting and inviting, but are also sending a field of goosebumps along your skin warning you to flee. It’s hard to focus on anything but his touch and the vibration of his words through the air. “Now, tell me, did you rub yourself?”

“Yes,” You stutter, trying to stop your hips from squirming on his lap. He notices and grips one side of your body to steady you. It only makes you want to shift more. His touch was almost overwhelming, but you wanted more of it.

Was it wrong to want more of your best friend’s touch?

“Did it feel good?”

“No,” A part inside of you was a bit disappointed that it felt so bland. You thought masturbation was this great thing, and that’s why people did it so frequently. You heard it was also a stress-reliever, but for you, it was just a stress-inducer. Harry could tell by your tone that you weren’t lying.

“Well, you probably weren’t doing it right,” Harry replies and you look up at him with a slightly startled expression and a scoff. You didn’t expect his response to be so straightforward, like he was a doctor diagnosing you with some disease.

“How could I do it wrong? Don’t I just rub…?”

“Baby, it’s much more than that,” Harry said sincerely. He’s never called you baby before, but the nickname had your heart jumping. “Were you even wet?”

“What? I—probably? I don’t remember…”

“You would remember.”

“The experience wasn’t very memorable,” You grumble with an eye roll.

“Do you want me to show you?”

His question had your head spiraling. He wanted to what? There is no way. There is no way those words just left Harry, your best friend’s, mouth.

“W-what? That’s way too personal!” Your eyes were wide and your skin was burning. You were nearly dizzy with this whole conversation and your stomach was tight. You thought you might need to lie down for a while.

Maybe you were sick. Yeah, that’s it.

“Best friends are personal, Doll. Just let me show you, yeah? And then we never have to talk about it again. If y’don’t want. Please,” Harry’s charm was convincing you. Everything about him was luring you in, completely different than ever before. The way his eyes was dark and his touch was warm made you feel wanted and needed, which was contrary to your past dates. They didn’t look at you this way, nearly beg for you this way. They didn’t show you anything. They wanted you because they wanted to get their dick wet, but they hated the idea of a virgin.

And Harry’s familiar. He’s safe. You don’t have to be afraid when you’re with him. But then why are you so nervous?

Harry was willing to teach you how to do the one thing you’ve been curious about your whole life, and you’re going to pass up the opportunity, why? Because he’s your best friend?

Isn’t that supposed to make it better?

“Okay, fine,” You inhaled as your hands gripped onto his T-shirt on his shoulders. You had convinced yourself to let the words slip out. “Show me.”

You were agreeing almost as if this wasn’t a big deal for you. But to Harry, it was. He would take your firsts, and something about that filled him with pride. A smirk slowly rides up on his lips, “Now?”

A blush cascades through your body. Of course he didn’t mean right now!

“I-I thought you meant—”

“Shh, relax, Doll. I was just makin’ sure,” he smirks again, pulling you closer to him. He loved watching you get all squirmy and flustered more than he thought. You could feel his body heat more than ever now, and you’re surprised you lasted this long on his lap without dying. “I’m going to give you a few options, okay?”

With anxiousness, you nodded and swallowed.

“When we do this, you have to talk. So use your words, Y/N,” You knew he was being serious when he said your name, so you replied with yes and then he was giving you your options.

“So, I can lay you down right here on the couch and show you how to rub your little clit,” his explicit words were making your privates ache, but it wasn’t painful. It kind of felt… good? You felt a foreign liquid dampen your underwear, and you can only assume that’s the wetness Harry was talking about. “Or, you can do it yourself on m’thigh with my help. Which one sounds like something y’want to do?”

“The first one,” You answered, painfully desperate to squeeze your legs together to stop this ache. “But how will I see what you’re doing?”

Harry thought for a moment. You made a good point. How were you supposed to learn simply from feeling? Harry knew you were a bit of a visual learner, so he wanted to make sure you saw how to pleasure yourself correctly. And he knew the perfect way to do that.

“I actually have a third option. But s’not really a choice anymore,” Harry doesn’t say anything after, he just lifts himself and you off the couch without warning. You wrap your arms and legs around his body like a koala, making sure you don’t fall. His warmth encompasses you back and you wish you could just stay there forever.

Familiar. Safe.

When your head peers up from his shoulder, you’re in his bathroom. Your eyebrows pinch together, curious as to what his third choice was.

He sets you down on the floor until your feet are planted. You unwrap your arms from him, still confused.

“Do you trust me, Y/N?” Harry’s eyes were still dark, and you wondered if they would ever go back to the strong, emerald green they used to be.

“Yes, of course,” You didn’t hesitate to answer. There was no one that you trusted more than Harry that wasn’t in your bloodline.

“Okay,” Harry breathes, “Strip f’me. Keep your bra and underwear on.”

You nearly questioned him in shock. But then you remembered what the whole goal of this was. He was going to show you how and you were going to listen, right? So you did.

Carefully, you stripped yourself of your clothes. He’s seen you in bathing suits before, and some were revealing, so this can’t be as bad, right? Harry didn’t peel his eyes away although you wanted him to. He hasn’t seen you naked since you two were little kids, and even though you weren’t naked, it felt like you were with his burning gaze. Obviously, there were some changes too. Like height, hair, breasts, ass… the whole thing. Harry doesn’t say anything until you’re in your undergarments.

A swimsuit is definitely different.

“Good. Now, c’mere,” Harry sits down on the floor, a few feet away from his full-body mirror. His body was up against the bathtub wall to keep himself steady. You slowly lowered yourself to the floor, wondering what was going on through his head.

He pulls you between his legs until you’re pressed against his body. His warmth radiated through you far better with less clothes on and your body ached some more. Your legs closed to squeeze it away.

“Nuh uh,” he declines. Harry grips your thighs with his ringed fingers and yanks them apart. You gasp at the extreme vulnerability and the coolness that waves over your privates. He throws your legs over his and bends them slightly, making you unable to move at all. “Keep them open, yeah?”

You nodded, but that’s not what he told you to do.

“Words.”

“Yes. Keep them open.”

“Good girl. You’re learning,” Harry smiled and looked towards the mirror. His eyes instantly zoomed in on the growing wet patch on the front of your cotton panties, and he couldn’t help but smirk. He saw and felt your body squirming similarly like how you were on his lap. He’s had a rock-hard cock since this conversation started, so he’s not surprised if you can feel his hard-on poking your back through his shorts.

His hands rested on your knees as you watched him in the mirror. The entirety of it all was extremely erotic, like something that would be on TV.

“If you like something, tell me. If you hate something, tell me. It’s important that you do so, okay? It helps both of us learn.”

“Okay,” You were nearly shaking with anticipation. You were so nervous, but why? It’s just Harry. It’s just Harry. “I kind of like when you say I’m doing a good job. Makes me feel… nice.”

“Yeah?” Harry tried to conceal the smirk that threatened to rise on his lips. Of course his best friend, who happened to be the most innocent person in the world, had a praise kink. It just made too much sense. “Like when I call you a good girl?”

You sighed and nodded, but Harry didn’t say anything this time. He just kept going.

One of his hands rested on your knee, tracing delicate circles. He stayed in the same spot, for god knows how long, and you wondered when he would do something. He seemed to be in a trance. He was hyper-focusing on every centimeter with those circles, and although you were getting impatient, you felt cared for.

One of his hands snakes to your chest and rubs your nipple through your bra. Just when you were about to protest, his fingers moved a tad lower. The roughness of his pads tickled your skin just right and caused your thighs to squirm. It was entertaining for Harry to watch you get all squirrely from such a simple touch.

He’s going to have fun with you.

“It… tickles,” You observe as your eyes look down at his fingers, very gradually moving closer to that ache in between your legs. You felt like a kid exploring a new world for the first time; naive and curious.

“What does?”

“Your fingers,” You stare at him in the mirror almost as if he’s stupid. What else would tickle?

“Does this tickle?” Harry’s knuckle brushes the inside of your thighs, lower than he’s been. You inhale at the subtle sensitivity.

“Not much,” You answer, and his knuckle continues to sway leisurely. Your breath picks up, rising faster at his hand’s proximity.

“What about this?” His index finger traces the hem of your panties with purpose. You gasp when he gets deep in between your legs, outlining your cunt with ease. Your legs attempt to shut with a shake, shying away from the vulnerability, but it’s impossible with his strong legs prying you open.

“A-a little.”

“And this?”

As if his touch could be anymore teasing, he finally dances along your clothed cunt, tracing your lips with curiosity of how you’d react. A mix of a sigh and a moan wavers out of you unintentionally, hips pushing closer towards his finger. Your mind blanks, light and fuzzy. Your face immediately falls to gaze at his movements, attracted to the air-headed feeling.

“Eyes on the mirror,” Harry demands while delicately caressing you. It was ironic, really. His voice was so rough and stoic while his touch was ever so gentle. With a few blinks, you're focusing in on the mirror, obeying his command. “How does this feel? Does it tickle?”

“Good, and yes,” You swallow your moan as his finger keeps petting you lightly. You were almost getting used to it, but you wanted more. “Is this what I was supposed to do?”

“Sort of. This is called foreplay. Heard of tha’?”

“I think so?” You were breathless.

“S’basically where I get you all wet and ready f’me. You like that?”

“L-love and hate relationship right now,” You pant as his finger rises away from your weeping, covered hole and travels up to your clit. You choke out a gasp as he strokes it nonchalantly.

“Oh,” Your hand drops to his thigh, gripping it strongly as your body begins to tingle. You strain your neck to keep your eyes on the mirror ahead of you, trying to watch how he does it.

His familiar smirk never fades from his face, cheeks a tad rosy from the heat waving between you two. His wrist is probably sore from the tedious, repeated movements he does. His thick fingers delicately circle your covered clit, applying generous pressure until you’re panting.

“More. I think I need more,” You suggest when his pace stays a consistent speed. You needed to feel his fingers on your bare skin. If he was going to touch you, you wanted him to just do it already.

“Y’think?” Harry’s tone was taunting yet serious. He wanted you to be firm with what you wanted. He didn’t want you to second-guess your own pleasure. If you needed more, you needed to tell him that. The best way for that to happen was for him to train you. “Beg for it.”

As your head becomes floaty with the stimulation, you don’t even hesitate to throw out pleads.

“Please, Harry. I-I need it, need more,” Your head slowly falls back onto his shoulder before his touch is gone. “Wha—”

Harry couldn’t take it anymore. He needed to see you. All of you. He needed to see what he did to you, and if you were really as desperate as you seemed. As shocking as this all may be to you, it was just as shocking to Harry. He couldn’t believe he was this turned on from his best friend’s inexperience. He’s always liked when a girl knew what she was doing and knew how to reciprocate. But something about Harry teaching you and showing you the ropes just fills him with a kind of power and pride that he can’t get from anywhere else. And he’s feasting off of it.

“M’gonna take these off, alright?”

“Everything? O-okay,” He unclipped your bra as you slowly slid down your panties. The tile beneath you was colder than before, but Harry’s warm body behind you kept you comforted.

“Have you heard of the traffic light system?” he asks, hands resting gently on your bare shoulders. He gets straight into the safety part first. It also distracts him from ogling your naked figure against him. He could feel his cock twitch in his briefs at your fluttering pussy and peaked nipples.

“I assume you don’t mean the ones used for driving?” You both chuckle and break some of the swollen tension in the room. It was a nice little reminder that it’s just Harry.

“No, Doll. The one for safety and consent,” he chuckled.

“Yeah, no, I’ve never heard of it.”

“If you say red, I’ll stop instantly and ask what made y’red. Communication is key. If y’say yellow, I’ll slow down and ask you again. And then we can either continue or stop, whatever y’want. But if your color is green, I’ll keep going. Understand, love?”

There was a lot of information, but you were able to keep up. It was actually similar to the traffic light system, which makes the name very fitting. You reply with a firm yes to note that you understand.

All while he was talking and explaining everything, you were getting used to looking at yourself in the mirror. You weren’t always confident in your body, but staring at it in between Harry’s made you feel safe and sexy somehow.

Before your mind can wander too far, Harry’s hands are falling down until they’re at your nipples. His rough fingers lightly pinch the already-hard buds until you’re pushing up into his touch. The warmth and the nakedness made you overly flushed all over. He gropes your breasts with care, slyly sliding another hand down lower.

Throughout this entire process, you’ve been soaking; in your underwear, in your shorts, and now on his bathroom tile. Your lower body has been throbbing in desire to be aided, and Harry seems to know just what you need.

His fingers hover right above your mound that’s screaming for him to go lower. Your heart rams against your chest in anticipation of his bare hands on your bare body, on your most sacred and vulnerable parts. No one has ever touched you beside yourself. A small part inside of you was glad that the first person was Harry because you knew you wouldn’t regret it.

Right?

“Stop thinking s’much,” he says, rubbing a warm palm over your belly. His face moves your head, so his lips can kiss your temple reassuringly. You slightly arch your back, so maybe he could see how desperate you are. Your legs were still spread by his, so you know he can see your wetness. If you can see it, so can he. “Just let me show you how it’s done.”

“Okay, Mr. Cocky,” You roll your eyes as he shifts your hair behind your ear, “What if I don’t even like it?”

“The name is very fitting. But that’s for a different day,” he says with a cocky smirk on his face. Now that sounds like something Harry would say. But your entire face gets warm and your head gets a little fuzzy when you actually imagine it. “and you will. Trust me.”

You take a deep breath. You weren’t sure how far you guys were going to go, but you’ve never felt more ready and more safe. With the system Harry told you about and all his reassurance, it was clear that even if he was teaching you, you were the one that had all the control.

“Now watch me.”

With those words his hand turns into just one finger and resumes on your clit. You gasp into the air as your body jolts. The roughness of his thumb paints your arousal over and over on your skin.

“This little thing is important. Don’t neglect it.”

His rhythm is slow and tedious as he circles the nub. You see and feel him dip down to collect some more of your wetness as he continues stroking you.

“How’s this? Color?” he gruffs in your ear while staring at you darkly in the mirror. You could barely understand him because you were panting embarrassingly and trying your hardest to focus on the reflecting glass in front of you.

“Good! Wait—green,” You corrected yourself as a moan elicited from you, his touch feeling even better each second.

“Good girl.”

“Fuck,” You feel yourself clench around nothing but your own wetness at his words. You both watch as the liquid quenches out of your dripping hole, making Harry groan from behind you.

“Do y’think you can handle one finger? Hm?” his voice rolls perfectly into your ear as he twists your peaked nipple. You couldn’t control your moans at the pleasure. His voice sounded just as good as the feeling of his hands.

“Yes, yes. Harry, please,” You nearly cried from how bad you needed it. You didn’t even know you needed it this bad. You thought you were going to hate this feeling, but you’re far from it.

“So submissive, so responsive,” Harry’s middle finger pushes against your hole, teasing the opening. You hold your breath as he makes you wait. “Breathe, Doll. Relax.”

Your eyes close for a moment. You breathe deep and feel your limbs lose their sudden tenseness. Before you can open them again, Harry’s finger is slotting inside of you easily. A gasp falls from your mouth as your hand grips on his meaty thigh for support.

“O-oh.” The feeling was insane. Intense. Nearly overwhelming. You clenched around his digit, consuming and caging it like it would fade away.

You’re so tight around him, he swears his finger might fall off. Harry’s cock is pulsing and pleading behind your back, but you don’t seem to notice. He’s making sure he doesn’t rut into you, but it’s so difficult when you’re all spread out and submissive for him.

He’s never thought of you like this, but fuck, now he can’t think of you any other way.

“Color, Doll?” Harry grumbles in your ear, voice low and breathy as it fans over your skin warmly.

“Green. What’s more than green? B-blue? Just–don’t stop–God,” Your squeaky voice rambled as his finger pumped in and out slowly. You can hear his smile behind your screwed eyes. The pad of his thumb rubbed delicate circles over your throbbing clit to escalate the pleasure.

Your chest was beating fast when your legs started to shake. Your hips bucked closer to his hands, needing more as you chase the glorious feeling.

“Look at you, takin’ me so well,” Harry praises, subtly curling his finger as your back arches. You know that one finger isn’t a lot, barely anything, but you were melting at the praise that Harry gave you. His constant encouragement is what made you putty in his hands. Literally.

“Harry,” You moaned into the heated air, causing Harry to groan desperately behind you. And you’re not too stupid to deflect that Harry might be turned on from the scene unfolding. If you knew more, if you knew better, you would have offered to help him after. But you were inexperienced, and you assumed he wouldn’t want someone to give him head who could possibly bite his dick off.

“Are you close, baby? Hm? Gonna come for the first time on my hand?”

“Y-yes! Please,” You begged as you climbed your high, wondering what the top would feel like if the chase was this blissful.

Your head falls restlessly on his shoulder while his right hand keeps focusing on your cunt. It was covered in your arousal as his pace picked up. The stimulation was almost too much, your body wanted to push away. But your mind was pleading to feel a release you know your body needed.

“Is it gonna h-hurt?” You groaned as your cunt clenched around him again, stomach tensing. A strong rush you assumed could only be an orgasm was approaching you all too fast.

“No, Doll. It’s gonna feel real good,” He twisted your nipple again, pushing you over the edge. You felt his thumb and index pinch your clit, causing you to scream his name against his chest. “Look in the mirror. Watch yourself fall apart f’me. Watch and make sure this time is memorable.”

You always thought Harry had a way with words. You never thought that about dirty talking though. His hands were as skillful as can be, and maybe one day you’ll be able to make yourself feel as good as he made you feel. But his words are something that you’ll never be able to treat yourself with. You don’t think you’ll ever meet another person whose voice is as fitting as Harry’s.

With his demanding tone, you came right over the edge. An overwhelming ripple of pleasure ceased through your body, shaking your legs to the max. Soundless moans and clawing nails were all you were capable of as you came on his large hand. Although you were straining, you never took your eyes off of the mirror. He told you to look at yourself as you came, but you were only staring at the glaring green eyes reflecting back at you. He rubbed all of your orgasm until you were trembling from overstimulation.

Just when you thought he was done, he raised his ringed hand to his mouth and tasted you. You thought that was something that they only did porn or movies. You swallowed intensely as his hum vibrated through you.

“Do you always… taste it?”

“If I think it’ll taste good,” he smirked as you scooted forward to grab your shirt. As you throw it over your head, you just had to ask.

“Did mine taste any good?” You slightly cringed as you asked the question. Does cum usually taste good? What does it even taste like?

His smirk widens, a hint of evilness rising, “do you want to find out?”

Your skin flushes even against the chilling tile. Your heart skips a beat at trying yourself. You hadn’t ever thought of it before. But you’ve come (literally) this far tonight, so why not just take it a little further?

“O-okay,” You slowly lift up your shirt, revealing your fucked-out cunt to him again. “So I just…?”

“May I?” he suggests.

“Yes.”

Two of Harry’s fingers swipe over your cunt, which was still covered in a mix of your arousal and cum. You jolted from the stimulation, tensing quickly before his touch was gone.

“Open,” and without thinking, you do. Your mouth falls open as his fingers lay flat on your tongue. Salty and creamy, it spreads over your tastebuds. You hummed around his fingers just like he did because it tasted good. Yeah, it was a bit odd, but once you got past that, you realized how erotic and sexy it was. “How’s it taste?”

After a bit of suckling on his digits, he puts them out way too soon for your liking. “Good, actually.” You creak from your dry throat.

“I think so too. Let’s clean you up real quick.”

Still sitting on the floor, a warm, wet towel soothes your sensitiveness as he wipes away all of your liquids. A smile broke out on his face when he finished before his hand landed on top of your head. He shook your hair like crazy until it was already wilder than it was. The action was childlike and friendly, almost as if everything between you guys never happened and you were back to square one. It was better that way, though. Right? To just go back to how everything used to be?

Harry grabs the small hand towel and exits his bathroom. You assume he went to discard it and add it to his laundry, but you just sat there in oblivion. You already missed his touch, longing for something you should’ve never even had in the first place. He was the one that offered himself to teach you, but now you’ve been taught, so where do you guys go now? Are you really supposed to just go back to the way it was?

He saw you in ways that no one else has before. You always thought that you would be intimate and have your groups of firsts with someone that you were dating, someone that you loved. Because of this, you realized that Harry was the safe option. Doing this with Harry changed your views on everything, and your body, heart, and mind couldn’t keep up with the rapid reversal.

You knew that Harry had a few notches in his belt. But were they all from relationships or just one-night stands? You didn’t know because you two rarely ever discussed the topic. Was it easy for Harry to go from girl to girl? Or did he get attached like you?

If there was one thing you always feared from sex and sexual doings, it was the intense attachment. You had heard about the infamous addiction intimacy laces within your veins that makes you crave a person. Now that you’ve been with Harry, that won’t happen to you, right?

You’ve known Harry forever, yet you’ve never craved him. He’s your best friend, and you’ve never seen him as more than that. If it was anyone else, you’d probably lose all control because you have no significant relationship with them. It would be easy to latch onto anybody because it would be easy to lose them too. Harry, on the other hand, was not easy to lose.

The last thing you want is to convince yourself of anything. You don’t want to “crave” Harry just because you saw something about an article online about “sexual chemicals fusing.” You couldn’t. No, it was too risky.

You’ve known Harry forever, so you couldn’t lose him forever too.

“I think I found a good movie to watch!” Harry’s voice echoes from his living room and all the way into the bathroom where you haven’t moved a muscle. Your overthinking was louder than it’s ever been. With a shaky breath, you rise from the tiles and stare at your disheveled appearance in the mirror. The same mirror you watched Harry finger fuck you with.

“Be out there in a second!” You shout back as your heart beats rapidly from his heartwarming voice laughing loudly at something. You clutched your chest, wondering why the fuck you were feeling the organ lurch for him in a way that wasn’t meant for him.

You knew that it was way too fucking personal.

—

thanks for reading angels 😙 part 2

taglist: @crybabyddl @tiaamberxx @alwaysclassyeagle @bisexual-desi @littlenatilda @raajali3

#shawnxstyles #harry styles #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles fan fics #harry styles fan fiction #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #fratrry #harry styles one shot #bestfriend!harry #fratrry x reader #dom!harry #harry styles love on tour #tpwk #treat people with kindness

[get0sfav]

hii hope you’re free to do my req!!😭 its alright if you’re busy but you should do jjk men hcs when they take you to the mall!! 🩷

AT THE MALL | multi.

↳ toji fushiguro, satoru gojo, suguru geto, kento nanami, sukuna x f!reader

JJK men when they take you to the mall!

slightly suggestive!

warnings! slightly suggestive for satoru and suguru (mentions of handjobs?), pet names (princess, baby, doll, love) other then that none :)

a/n: also please tell me if I should do part two with the younger boys like megumi/yunji too or not!

Toji Fushiguro!

He's broke as shit how do you think he's supposed to take you anywhere, especially a mall.

Anyways, when you ask him "could you take me to the mall please?" he scoffs lightly, mumbling a low "go by yourself." in between whatever is it that he's doing (probably watching TV). However, once you say that you'd get him food, his ears perk up, but he ignores, which causes you to simply shrug and go get ready.

However when you're at the door, calling his name so he can shut the door, you see him picking up his jacket, you ask him where he's going, to which he responds "can't let ya go alone." and you have to stop yourself from laughing at his antics.

He spends most of the time complaining as you drag him from store to store, grumbling about how you're indecisive as hell and should've just ordered stuff online rather than coming all the way here.

Notices you eyeing something which was a little expensive, and he internally gets sad knowing he couldn't buy it for you even if he wanted, and he knows you would literally dump his ass if he were to threaten the employees to give it to him for free.

Acts like a total baby, annoying you and whining until you get him food, which shuts him up for a while.

Absolutely HATES when you try to buy stuff for him, because he doesn't need that. So when you drag his ass to Sephora, he's grossed out at first, yapping about why he was there and how awkward he looked (which he did) there as compared to everyone, his giant and buff figure something you wouldn't see in Sephora of all places. Although you end up buying a cologne and a skin moisturizer for him apart from everything you got for yourself, to which he kept saying that he didn't need it and all that, but he knew he did, because deep down he wanted his skin to be soft for you to touch.

When you're about to leave the mall, he unexpectedly drags you to an ice cream shop, getting your favorite flavor. It was a silent way of his for thanking you for buying that stuff for him

"thank you for getting me that stuff princess, though I didn't need any of that, I'm naturally gorgeous, but still, thank you" He'd say while pressing a kiss to your head, one of his hands carrying all your bags while the other draped around your shoulder, pulling you into him while you smiled at his words, appreciating the small gesture from his side.

Satoru Gojo!

He takes you to the mall, every week, even if you didn't need anything, making up excuses that he needs to buy something, grumbling things like "gotta get me some new shades/shirts" and he drags you along everytime.

Of course, it's just an excuse, he simply wants to treat you like the princess you are <3

He loves seeing you poke out your tongue in concentration while trying to choose any shirt for him, and oh how his heart melts at that. His heart fluffs up at the fact that you're doing so much just to make sure he ends up looking good (despite the fact he looks good in everything)

What starts as his shopping soon turns into him taking you to the most expensive stores at the mall, and it's his turn to dress you up now.

"hmmm, turn around for me?" He motions his fingers in a circular motion, and you twirl for him. A smile spreads across his face, "You look absolutely gorgeous, and your ass looks great in that dress I swear." He refers to the baby pink dress you wore, slowly walking up to you and pulling you in for a hug, rocking you back and forth "you're so gorgeous, so pretty I can't stop complimenting you, that's how awesome you are baby, I'm so glad you're my girlfriend." He then pulls you in for a kiss, holding your face in both his hands

Gets absolutely everything and anything your eyes linger on for more than 2 minutes, he doesn't care how expensive it is, he's way too rich to care about the price, and of course, there's nothing more important than what you want, that's how much he loves you.

Whatever you want, you just need to name it and he'll be getting it for you immediately, doesn't care if it isn't available because he will make it available. Anything for you.

Would 101% drag you to the lingerie store, getting you new sets because he's torn way too many of your sets. His favorite one is the blue one you choose, which matches the color of his eyes. After you walk out of the store, he bends down to whisper in your ear with a grin "I can't wait to rip that one off of you."

Takes you to the best restaurant after shopping, getting your favorite dishes and drinks because "he just felt like it"

He's the best <3

Suguru Geto!

Suguru takes you out almost every week, but rarely to a mall, so when he asks you whether you wanted to go to the mall, you were a bit shocked. He looked at you with his eyebrows raised, and you shrugged, agreeing to go with him because it wasn't everyday he wanted to go to a mall.

The two of you mostly just walk around, window-shopping rather than actually buying anything. His hand stays in yours at all times, occasionally bringing it up to his mouth to kiss on your knuckles.

Though what attracts you both is an accessories store, where the two of you get all kinds of jewelry and stuff. Suguru gets new earrings for his piercings, while you get necklaces, bracelets and whatever catches your eye.

He pays for everything, of course.

After exiting the store, he remembers how you wanted to get your nails done, so without a word he takes you into the opposite direction towards a nail salon. He helps you out with everything, sitting by your side with his head leaned on your shoulder, and he helps you with everything.

"what color should I get?" You ask him while the lady adds the nail extensions. He thinks for a while, before his thoughts wander to that one video he saw on social media, where the girl got her nails painted with the color of her boyfriend's tip. He smirks and leans into your ear, "get the color of my tip, you know what it is, right princess?" Your eyes widen at his words, shifting in your chair. You ask the lady to apply the color of his tip (or what you think it is, based on your memory) He smiles, he'd know whether it is or it isn't when your hands would be stroking up and down his dick.

Treats you to McDonald's after you've gotten your nails done, repetitively asking if you wanted anything else. He helps you eat your burger because he implemented that you had just gotten your nails done and it'd be a shame for them to break before he got to see whether you picked the right color or not.

Kento Nanami!

Absolute sweetheart. All you had to do was mention that you wanted to go to the mall once and the next day he's taking a sick leave to skip out office and take you to the mall.

He doesn't get the hype of malls, but he's ready to do anything for you.

You guys don't do much shopping and stuff, simply choosing to walk around talking about anything and everything, mainly it was you talking and him listening, but it was okay because he loved the way your voice flowed into his ears. It was music to him. If he could, he'd record your voice and hear it all the time while he was at work, so that he could feel grounded to who he loved, despite the stressful environment.

He's wearing a casual white shirt, sleeves rolled up to his forearms, and more importantly, his hair was down and he wasn't wearing his glasses. Your arm was looped into his at all times, telling the lookers that he was taken.

After a while, you two decided to eat something. You got yourselves a table while he went to order donuts for the both of you.

While you sat there, your eyes remained focused on your boyfriend, and your brows furrowed as a girl approached him, twirling her hair and what not. You were almost ready to walk to her and tell her to back off, but before you could get up, Kento and the girl looked towards you as he pointed at you, and then made eye contact, waving his hand with a soft smile.

You felt a smile creeping up on your own lips as he walked back towards your table, the smallest hint of smile still plastered over his face when he sits down with your donuts, handing you a spoon.

"Don't think about it doll" His words caught your attention, and as always, he knew exactly what you were thinking about "She came up to me and asked me if I was single, I simply told her that I have the most perfect girlfriend ever and I didn't plan to leave her anytime soon." His words made your heart flutter as a faint hint of blush creeped up on your cheeks, his hand brushing behind a few loose strands of hair from your face.

On your way back to your shared home, Kento got your favorite flowers for you, as a token of his love, "This was one of the best days in my entire life, thank you love." He kissed your cheek, looping your arm in his once more as the two of you walked back

Sukuna!

he doesn't.

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #toji fushiguro #toji x reader #gojo x reader #geto suguru #geto x reader #geto suguru x reader #gojo satoru x reader #nanami kento #jjk nanami #nanami x reader #sukuna #sukuna x reader #nanami kento x reader #gojo satoru #nanami x you #toji fushiguro x reader

[peachypinkygloss]

hello! for the 2k celebration: how about brothers bff!jk x reader (where jk has had a crush on Jimin’s big sis foreverrrrrr & now that they’re older he wants her to see him as a man) <3 all I can think of is seven jk w his tattoos & hair & abs!!! anyways happy 2k 💖💖💖 MWAH

thank you so much!! 💕 mwah 💋 x

big boy

You finally fall for Jungkook's charms.

pairing: brother's best friend!jungkook x fem!reader

genre: brother's best friend au

warnings: implied age gap, jk's needy but also kind of cocky??, she touches his abs lol, 600 words.

a.n.: ok like HE'S NEEDy but this is how i like it 😏 laundromat jk is my fav 🤞🏻

This is part of my 2k milestone celebration! Here is the post for the drabble game! 🤍 (requests are closed!!)

♡・2k celebration masterlist・♡

"Jungkook," you say his name a bit in a scolding way, but the smile gracing your features tells otherwise. You pull your clothes out of the drier, folding them neatly on top of the machine before dropping them in your basket. "I don't know, it's... it's not-"

He interrupts you as you stay indecisive, his eyes round and so, so filled with hope. He helps you fold your clothes while you're talking together. This time he stops after having dropped your folded jeans in the basket, gently grabbing your bicep to make you face him.

"Just... why not?" He softly asks, your eyes finally meeting him. You still haven't folded the piece of clothing you're holding, but you look at him anyway. "One date, that's it! Nothing more if you don't want to, but if you want... you know I wouldn't mind," he grins and you can't help but do the same.

You sigh, defeated, because there's really nothing holding you back other than yourself. You would like to, but you keep overthinking.

"But what happens after? You'll still be friends with Jimin and..." You bite down on your lip, stopping mid-sentence, not sure what you're worrying about exactly.

The past, maybe. The implications, the consequences, how you'll see yourself after that. Things with Jungkook started being different when you came back for the summer break. You haven't seen him in years because you were studying abroad and seeing him again is, to say the least, special.

Jungkook is someone very loyal, he stayed in contact with your brother and made plans the minute he knew Jimin was back in town for the summer.

The loyalty he has for your brother you would have never noticed it before, but now it does something to you. You like it, you like that he doesn't forget years of friendship, that it still means a lot to him.

"And what? Jimin's a big boy," Jungkook justifies. "And so am I," he adds, making you smile. He is a big boy, that's for sure. "We'll handle it."

You look into his eyes when he says those words, staring back at you with a serious expression. He often laughs, but you know it when he speaks seriously, like right now.

You think for a moment, a short moment, comparing the pros and cons. You realize the cons are just things you worry could happen, that you're not even sure they would end up being true. Thinking twice, you don't think it's worth it to rely on the cons.

"The real question is... can you handle me?" You flirt and Jungkook surely likes this.

He smirks, his eyes looking at you up and down. Before, he would have responded no, that he can't handle you, that you're too good — too much — for him.

But now, heck yes he can.

He steps closer and takes your right hand, a stupid little grin on his face. "Can you..." He begins, passing your hand under his tank top, your fingers brushing against his abs. "Handle that?"

You're surprised, but you appreciate how he's blunt with you, not scared at all to shoot his shot. You voluntarily don't take your hand away immediately, though you remember you're not exactly in a private place.

"Jungkook!" You scold, but still giggle it off.

"Don't reject me," he pouts, and he genuinely looks sad.

You sigh again, knowing you don't really want to refuse his proposition. You enjoy his presence, he's funny and he always manages to make you laugh even when you're not feeling well.

He's an adult and so much more mature than other guys your age. He's attractive, so kind and attentive. He's a good man and Jungkook's right, it doesn't matter what others will think — aka Jimin.

"Okay. Go for a date."

.

.

.

#🍑 [drabble game] #requests #bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #bts x reader #bts drabble #bts imagines #bts scenarios #jungkook x reader #jungkook fanfic #jungkook drabble #jungkook fanfiction #jungkook imagines

[gatitties]

Hello again my little butterfly 🦋✨

I came to place another order if that's ok! so, the scenario is a One Piece AU, where YN has an arranged marriage with Shanks, who is one of the richest men in town, but even so, YN decides to run away on her wedding day and throw herself off a bridge, but she can't, they find her and the family manages to bring her back to the wedding, Shanks is a man very much in love with YN, the moment he sees the sadness in YN's eyes when she walks up the aisle and puts the ring on her finger Shanks, he decides to conquer her and make her the happiest wife in the world! ( PS: Shanks is in a desperate situation when he learns that his beloved literally decided to throw herself off a bridge rather than stay with him, even little sad :( )

─Shanks x wife!reader

─Summary: you didn't want to be part of that ceremony, but you're not brave enough to run away either

─Warnings: slight mention of suicide attempt, modern AU

Oh hi hi love!! 🫶🏻🦋 you really like angst 😳

You ignored the perplexed looks of people, without stopping or thinking about a second option, you gripped the thin white fabric of your wedding dress harder so as not to trip over it, your shoes had long since disappeared so you could run more comfortably. You didn't want this, you didn't want to marry an unknown guy, no one thought about your feelings? It's not something your parents have the right to play with and you weren't going to let them ruin your life for financial convenience.

The moment adrenaline started to increase when you saw how you were now being persecuted, probably due to the absence in the ceremony that was taking place in the nearby church, you felt bad for the man you had been engaged to, since it wasn't his fault either and you didn't even know him enough to determine that he was a horrible person, but this decision was too hasty and you definitely didn't agree to this.

With your heart in your throat you ran until you tripped over your own sore feet, your breathing accelerated even more when you heard shouts of your name, taking courage again you stood up with a new impetus, although when you noticed how the distance between your pursuers was shortening more and more, your brain began to draw an extreme line in your thoughts.

Would it hurt? Could you die? Well, you were going to see for yourself what it felt like to jump off a bridge just to avoid facing an unwanted fate.

You quickly climbed onto the thick railing, stabilizing yourself standing on it, the next few seconds felt like a blur, like a part of memory that was difficult to remember, the fear of possible death and the indecision that comes with taking a long time to jump into the void made one of the guys chasing you caught you before you did something crazy.

The next thing you know after that, you were back in one of the private rooms of the church, being yelled at by your mother while your father looked on disapprovingly, you didn't care, nothing mattered to you at that moment, you let them go back to put on your makeup, you let them put new shoes on you and they changed the dirty surface fabric of your dress as if you were a doll, lifeless.

The ceremony returned to its course, Shanks waited awkwardly all this time at the altar, and when he saw you appear next to him his heart shattered, you weren't even looking at him, your eyes were lost somewhere far away in this unwanted reality, you lacked any kind of expression. He knew it, he knew how you felt, and yet he felt a little selfish for wanting to be your husband, for wanting to love you unconditionally, this marriage may be arranged, but he admired every drop of courage you poured out to prevent this event, every anger and every fierce response you gave to the first meetings between both families.

"Now… husband and wife, you can kiss each other."

You were both so absorbed in your own thoughts that you barely heard the priest's last words. Shanks was the first to step forward, holding your waist slowly as if he were asking permission and asking if it was okay to do so. You didn't move an inch, your eyes were still lost even when he sealed your fate with a cold kiss devoid of love, at least, lacking on your part.

Shanks knew it wouldn't be easy, that you weren't going to trust, that he wasn't going to receive tons of affection, even looks, he knew you were in a delicate state, after all, you'd rather almost kill yourself than get married.

You didn't bother with his emotions, you didn't bother to ask about his tastes, his hobbies or how his day had been, you just spent the days dead, repeating your routine, your life remained the same in a way, a few more numbers in the account. but in exchange of what? Your freedom and decision. You were hurt, you had been damaged by your own parents, your emotional wounds would not heal overnight and you would refuse to show a modicum of affection until you recovered.

Shanks knew that he would have to sleep alone for months, that an empty house would await him, that all his praise and gifts would be quickly discarded, but it doesn't matter, maybe you didn't look for him or you didn't want him, but as your husband, he would do everything he could to at least help you cope with the situation, he really loves you, but it won't be easy to win your affection because you never wanted this.

Your heart began to heal over time, it took a long time, you decided to completely break the relationship with your family, although before they were the only ones you could turn to, Shanks showed you that he would be there, that despite not being the husband that you chose as such, made you trust him, made you feel loved again.

He wasn't a bad man, he wasn't the most wonderful person in the world either, but he proved to be enough for you to stop feeling that emptiness inside your heart, step by step he managed to break the walls that you built around your emotions, Shanks turned out to be something unexpected in your life, someone you didn't think would be so important and he was able to grant some peace, some happiness back into your life.

Maybe you are not yet ready to accept that he is your husband, but you slowly began to meet someone you could voluntarily fall in love with.

#one piece #op #one piece x reader #one piece modern au #modern au #shanks #shanks x reader #x reader #husband shanks #wife reader #fem reader #request #one piece x fem reader #shanks x wife reader #sfw #reader insert #xreader #angst?

[kazumiwrites-fanfiction]

Not-So-Secret Drawings

REQUEST: Hi there, so I've been daydreaming about this for awhile but I absolutely suck at writing so, could i request hcs were the reader is really good at drawing and has been secretly drawing random people on campus whenever they get the chance, but one day reader forgets there sketch pad somewhere and a character (of your choosing) finds it and decides to snoop and finds drawingsof them and people on campus. Just as they finish looking through reader comes (after realizing they forgot it). I hope this makes sense to you, have a nice day/night.

SUMMARY: Your carefully hidden secret is out now. WORD COUNT: 1k

WARNINGS: Riddle, Azul, Floyd, and Vil snooping looking through your drawings, reader is a really good artist, Riddle threatens you (out of love I swear), Azul is uncomfortable by your drawings (not in a bad way- I think), mentions of getting lectured by Azul, Floyd is a ball of chaos, Vil gets no warnings because he's perfect/j A/N: When I tell you that as soon as I saw this I immediately rushed to write two parts before having to stop because I needed to do my summer homework - and then procrastinated the last part (Vil)- Also I know you implied one character but since I'm indecisive I did multiple haha (I'm sorry (but also kind of not because this was fun)) I'm sure you don't suck at writing!! You just get sick of your own writing because it all seems predictable (speaking from experience, I read my work and I'm like "ew?? I need better words" haha) Vil's part is definitely weird because I was like "Fashion Designer!Reader" (probably because some of my friends take fashion/design classes) and I don't know how accurate this is I suck at drawing so I know nothing please don't come at me- Also on a side note, I have a lot of requests right now and since I have a lot of schoolwork I have to do right now, my writing will probably be scattered. Hope you guys understand! (Hope you have a nice day/afternoon/night/etc too!!)

© kazumiwrites - All rights reserved; please do not steal, edit, copy, repost (etc) my work without my express permission.

You had always been careful with your drawings. You never wanted another person to look at them. After all, you had been drawing other people - and who knew what they would think?

Sure, they were pretty accurate, but still. It wasn't like the people at Night Raven College knew that you were drawing them. And you didn't want your drawings to get destroyed just because someone in a foul mood found them. Just your luck though, as you had left your sketchbook somewhere. Where did you even misplace it…

Riddle Rosehearts

He had always seen you with your sketchbook, but had assumed it was just for studying.

Likewise, when it popped up during class, he assumed that you were diligently taking notes.

It was almost sad seeing how far from the truth he was in hindsight.

Since he found your sketchbook on the floor (perhaps having fallen from your bag - it was always full, after all), he decided to take it to you. On the way over to Ramshackle Dorm, he flipped through the sketchbook before he paused.

These weren't notes. They were drawings.

And very good ones, at that.

They were so detailed, he thought for an instant that you had magicked them on here somehow (before remembering that you didn't have any magic).

So was this what you could do with some time and diligence?

His mother had never let him draw much so his drawings were mediocore at best (at worst, one would think that a small child had drawn them).

He found himself captivated by the artwork, flipping through the pages, seeing the drawings of various people from the school. Even some of himself…? With more details... It was odd, the small flutter in his chest. Happiness?

He jolted as he heard your voice, asking if that sketchbook in his hands was yours, abruptly slamming the sketchbook shut as if he had been looking at something completely inappropriate. Which, in a way, he might have been?

"Sorry for looking at these without your permission." He got out after a moment, handing it back to you. "You're a really good artist." He paused. "But you shouldn't be drawing in class. If I catch you with this sketchbook out during Trein-sensei's lectures, I'll have your head!"

Azul Ashengrotto

Of course Azul had noticed your drawings. He needed to in order to make sure he knew as much as possible about others so he could scam help them whenever they needed it.

Still, he found it intriguing, so he couldn't help but skim through your drawings. And my, were they amazing.

Until he got to the section where you had drawn him.

Sure, there were drawings of him in regular uniform, some of him in his P.E. uniform (he thought that they weren't really flattering on him, but you made it look good).

But then there were the sections where you had drawn him in mer form.

Of course, you had no idea what his mer form actually looked like (without all the overblotting, which you never got the chance to see clearly anyway) so it was mostly guesswork and using your imagination.

There were ones with long, large tentacles swarming around him.

Some with tentacles that were slender.

Some of them popped out of weird angles, which he was puzzled about, but okay.

My tentacles can't move like that - or can they?

They definitely shouldn't be popping out of his ribs. Wherever did you get that particular idea? It made him uncomfortable just by looking at it.

He was so caught up in examining your drawings and he didn't notice you until you literally snatched the sketchbook from his hands, saying something about how they were private.

"Sorry, [Y/N]-san... But these drawings aren't too accurate, you know."

And that was how you got roped into a three-hour long discussion about the anatomy of octopuses as well as the anatomy of merfolk and how your drawings were terribly inaccurate. (You were just guessing, how were you supposed to know any of this?)

Floyd Leech

Floyd wouldn't even wait until the sketchbook was unattended.

He'd pop out of nowhere, eyes bright, asking what you were doing.

Never mind if it was in the middle of class or not.

You've both gotten scolded about this, he should know better.

Still, one day he caught you by surprise, and the book slipped from your hands.

You muttered a small curse before trying to grab it, but whoops, too late. Floyd had already gotten it and was flipping through the pages.

"Aww, Koebi-chan, you drew me?" His gaze met yours, a wide grin on his face (showing his extremely sharp teeth). "You should've just asked, I would've modeled and stuff for you."

You shook your head slightly. You had wanted to keep this a secret if possible... At least Floyd seemed to be in a fairly good mood. You told him that you wanted to draw people in their natural state, without them posing for the "camera," so to speak.

He looked disappointed, but then immediately asked if you could come to a basketball practice or match or something. Perhaps you'd find it more interesting to draw him there. Or maybe in the ocean?

Vil Schoenheit

He was no stranger to people drawing him. He was famous after all.

He did sometimes get… odd pieces of artwork, but that was to be expected.

Still, he didn't expect to find a sketchbook with him in it, abandoned at an empty seat. Only drawings of him.

It had so happened that you were trying to figure out a good design for clothing. You always wanted to have a face to your designs, and he was the perfect subject.

Maybe your drawings didn't do him justice, but it was interesting to see how you could tweak your designs to fit him better.

Still, Vil was plenty impressed.

These designs... He could definitely see himself wearing them.

Maybe he could show them to one of the people he knew... They could help make something like that. With your permission, of course.

He closed the book as he heard you come up.

"These designs really are fascinating. Would you mind showing me more details? I'm certain that we can turn these drawings into reality if you'd like it."

As always, reblogs and comments are always appreciated! ♡ Send your thoughts grr

Feel free to send requests! Check out this post for info ^^

#kazumiwrites #twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland x y/n #twisted wonderland x you #twst x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #riddle rosehearts x reader #vil schoenheit x reader #floyd leech x reader #azul x reader #riddle x reader #vil x reader #floyd x reader #twst azul ashengrotto x reader #twst vil schoenheit x reader #twst floyd leech x reader #twst riddle rosehearts x reader #azul ashengrotto x y/n #riddle rosehearts x y/n #vil schoenheit x y/n #floyd leech x y/n

[sillyromance]

Can you make comfort vore? From Optimus?

Hello, dear evelyntyecrqzy!

Sure! Here you go!

P.S: there is angst and one heavy word in this work. Also I've written it from the first person's perspective... I really hope you don't mind it.

Have a good day and take care!

***

- How do you feel, little one?

It was late evening; almost all the lights were gone, the only bright area was Ratchet’s lab: the old medic was staring at the big green screen, typing aggressively on the panel and mumbling something inaudible. He was too busy to pay attention to anything else. The rest of the team left to their quarters after they had brought the kids home. No body had shown any signs of life since then.

I was lying on the couch, curled up in a tight ball. My head felt heavy and hurt; I felt cold and lonely. It was hard to hold back sobbing, but I didn't want to attract unnecessary attention - nobody cared anyways. Why would they? Were my problems that important?

I squeezed my eyes shut, tears running down my cheeks violently as my shoulders started shuddering...

And then I heard his deep, gentle voice.

"How do you feel, little one?" - I turned my red face to the huge mech behind me. Optimus Prime, my guardian. Through the cacophony of my thoughts I hadn't heard him coming. His blue optics far above glowed with concern.

I hurried to wipe the tear tracks from my face and stand up, mumbling something like: "Sorry" or "It's fine, don't bother yourself..." But as far as I did this, his large servo wrapped around me and very soon I found myself sitting on his plain rough palm, being swirled with his kind, sad gaze. I felt nothing but guilt, though the only reason for it was my depressing mood. I couldn't look straight at him, turning away over and over, rubbing my hot cheeks in attempt to get rid of the tears. I hated myself for the mess I had become – I waited for him to throw me away as far as he would get a good look at my ugliness. However, Optimus didn't seem disgusted with me at all.

- Did someone offend you? - The mech asked again with the same sincere tenderness in his tone.

I shook my head negatively.

- Is it something in your body?

I closed my face with both hands and shook the head even more violently, crooking.

- No...

- And what’s about your soul?..

I sniffed silently; choking sensation dug its claws into my throat as it let out a pathetic "Mm-gm..." and I nodded. Everything in me just fell somewhere down; I felt my poor heart beating hysterically in the stomach. There was a crazy mix of panicking fear and complete indifference. I was trembling, wishing to be left alone. But even more, I wanted to be comforted. I wanted someone to embrace me and whisper soothing words, to say that it was going to be OK, to stroke my hair as if I was just a kid. But wasn't it too much to ask? I didn't dare to believe Optimus would bother himself to spend time with such a puny, pathetic creature.

After this cut through my head, I couldn't keep myself from crying anymore – I literally burst out.

- Hey, look at me, Y/N.

Hesitantly, I obliged. I was ready to see disappointment or distaste, but instead...

- There is nothing to be embarrassed with. Do you want to talk about it?

I wasn't sure if I heard him right. Did he really... worry about me? Of course, as my guardian, he should have, regardless... Wasn't I dreaming?

- W-what d-do you m-mean? – I replied indecisively.

- I thought, perhaps you could share your pain with someone. Sometimes it helps. - A small, understanding smile appeared on his faceplate. - I'm sorry... It hurts my spark to see such precious little thing crying.

I lost my ability to speak for some seconds.

- Does it r-really? W-why?

Prime's eyebrows lifted up in surprise.

- Because you matter. You're my friend, Y/N. Friends help each other, don't they?

His gravely voice had already had its way with me. My shudders calmed down and though my eyes were still wet, I couldn't help but smiled back at him.

- Thank you... for this... But I don't want to talk right now...

- It's absolutely fine...

- ... I'm very, very tired, though. - At the moment I said that, my spine weakened and I collapsed at the flat, warm surface of Optimus' hand.

Something childish, basic, something from the abyss of my wild, subconscious core suddenly arose inside me and escaped my chest with barely audible plead.

- Please... Don't leave me here...

A quiet sigh rambled beside me; my entire figure was washed with warm air of his exhale.

- Don't worry, Y/N. I won't.

His digits closed over my tiny form. I wasn't able to see a thing anymore, but I could say for sure that we moved away from the place.

Quite soon the sounds of Ratchet's work faded away. Optimus opened one of the many electric doors and walked into a somewhat room - I heard a soft "whoosh" as the panel shifted back to its place. My guardian set me free on his berth, and only then I understood that we were in his private room. Sitting down beside me, he spoke even gentler than before:

- You are out of energy. And so do I. But still, I don't want you to stay alone...

Do you trust me?

I nod, already predicting where he was heading to. Cybotronian friends committed this small ritual with humans regularly; many were fond of it. However, I had never tried it with him. I couldn't claim that I was completely inexperienced too, but those previous times were emergencies which I couldn't truly like – they were harsh and distasteful like a rotten fruit. Now... It promised to be much more intimate. And it depended only on my wish.

I glanced at him through my eyelashes - I was too sleepy to keep the eyes wide open - and murmured:

- I do.

Optimus nodded. I was lifted up again - straight to his mouth.

Slowly, controlling every his movement, my guardian guided me inside his maw and laid my feet on his squishy glossa - there was a faint blue light twinkling at the back of his depthless throat illuminating a humid, warm chamber. Thanks to him I didn't even touch the sharp dents – their deadly blades loomed right above me, but stayed harmless, serving simply a reminder of what power Optimus actually had over me. The glossa curled around my legs as soft, thick blanket, then released them and I was pushed further to the glowing entrance of the esophagus.

I stared down, processing what was about to happen. I appreciated the leisure pace Optimus chose with me; his gentle licks and steady, rhythmical ventilating brought me nothing but comfort and peace. I sensed my toes in his pharynx and waited for inevitable with dull thrill - to be unceremoniously drugged into misty, humid confines of the muscles’ trap, to be deafed and choked. That what I was usually met with before, every time I was gulped down. However, when Optimus swallowed, his artificial, metal flesh contracted just slightly, pulling me so carefully inside that I almost missed the moment. It was like... A hug. The next swallow was just a little bit stronger - I gasped as he let his hand go off me and my tiny being got engulfed into his soft throat. It felt better than anything I knew before. Surrounded by the pulsing alien flesh, I finally felt protected and loved – the state I sought for so desperately all that fuckin’ day.

For some time he just held me there, his head titled back. I didn't make a move, trying to avoid hurting him. Living heat of his soaked into my bones and made me so drowsy that I thought I would fall asleep. However, at that moment the muscles came to action and lovingly tugged me deeper. The light grew brighter, though it didn't bother me at all; I was easily slipping in a long wiry tube constructed from the smaller ones, thinner and more solid, poured with viscous, bubbling energon – I was watching little sparks floating in there as I was passing by and a weak flame of forgotten happiness flickered in my soul once more.

Finally, I arrived at his fueltank. Its walls greeted me with a friendly squeeze, forcing me to curl into fetal position. I didn't cry anymore; all my worries and demons disappeared long ago, at the second I heard: "How do you feel, little one?"

God! I was so horribly wrong. I thought no one needed me, that I was lost, abandoned... And still, there was someone who couldn't bare me cry.

I felt Optimus' servo laying down on the lump I must have made on his waist, caressing me. I rubbed my head against the spot where I could recognize the pressure and smiled.

I did matter.

#soft vore #extreme cuddling #safe vore #transformers vore #transvoremers #willing pred #willing prey #tfp vore #optimus prime vore #hurt/comfort #comfort vore #angst #vore angst

[tcfactory]

Small WIP sneak peak from my so far unnamed "there are people who mourn for Shen Jiu actually" fic:

----

"Ming Fan, do you know anything about this?"

Once upon a time those words would have been a sign of impending punishment, but now they are said with a tone of genuine confusion. Ming Fan sets down the financial report he’s writing for his Shizun (Ming Fan had to learn really quickly how to do the peak’s paperwork after Shen Qingqiu changed. The man who never let him do much more than grind ink had drastically changed his approach after his loss of memory. Now Ming Fan much prefers when his Shizun delegates all of his work to him, because at least that way it gets done correctly.) and walks over to the other desk to take a look at the bit of correspondence spread out on the table.

Ah. His parents are demanding to know why Shen Qingiu stopped sending reports on the progress of Ming Fan’s sister. A sister who’s not a cultivator and as such was never actually enrolled in Cang Qiong Sect.

Ming Fan glances at his Shizun. He really should remind the man of the truth, that they cooked this scheme up together to get her out of a marriage to a rich, but violent man that likely would have killed her. That his sister is fine down in the city, working as the cook’s apprentice in the brothel - far below her station as a nobleman’s firstborn daughter, but the happiest she has ever been. That she’s being courted by the very nice and very boring man who owns the noodle stall. That they’ve been ferreting away the substantial sum of money Ming Fan’s father is paying for her education at Qing Jing and when her apprenticeship is over they are going to get married and open a restaurant together.

But Shen Qingqiu has lost a lot with his memories, among them the ability to convincingly lie to noblemen. If Ming Fan tells him the truth, his sister will be in trouble.

“Answering Shizun, this one’s jiejie has eloped with one of the Bai Zhan disciples. It happened when Shizun was recovering from his sudden fever, so this disciple didn’t want to bother him with things of low importance.”

Several expressions flicker rapidly over his Shizun’s face, his eyes shifting briefly to the right (a new tick, one Ming Fan can’t interpret well yet), but after a moment he schools his face. “I see. I will let Liu-shidi handle the fallout, then.”

Ming Fan exhales a breath of relief, makes his excuses and returns to his report. Liu-shishu will neither confirm nor deny that anything of the sort happened on his peak and then tell the Ming family to go to hell for good measure. Not unlike how Shizun would have done once upon a time, Ming Fan thinks bitterly as he picks up his brush and directs his attention back to the paperwork.

He forgets all about this until years later, when he finds himself standing in front of the bamboo house, holding a letter penned with his jiejie’s best calligraphy. It’s an invitation to her wedding, addressed to ‘her prickly but kindhearted benefactor’.

He should go in and give it to his Shizun, but this Shizun is not the person who lied so convincingly to the Ming patriarch that he broke off a potentially lucrative arranged marriage there and then. Not the one who stole her away from the jaws of danger and called in a personal favor to get her a job somewhere he was certain she would be safe.

Ming Fan clutches the letter so hard that the envelope crumples. He should hand it over, but he doesn’t want to.

Ning Yingying finds him there, paralyzed from indecision and it takes just a glance at the letter for her to understand what’s going on. “Is that the invitation for Qingqiu-shushu?”

Ming Fan nods and makes an attempt at smoothing out the envelope, but he has gripped it too tight and it remains sad and crumpled.

Yingying takes him by the hand and drags him off to… somewhere in the bamboo forest. He always let Yingying fetch their Shizun when he withdrew into the forest to paint because she knew the hidden paths the best. He still recognizes the ginkgo tree from the few occasions they went together.

There’s a haphazard pile of rocks at the root of the tree and next to it a bowl for incense sticks (there are many burned down and one currently burning, the smoke curling lazily like the tail of a happy cat) and a plate for offerings piled with folded paper birds. It makes him raise an eyebrow at his shimei.

“Shushu never liked wasting food, so I figured I’d give him something else he might enjoy,” she explains, rooting around in her qiankun sleeve until she pulls out a fire talisman. “I don’t know how this works, but you need to burn paper money to give it to the dead, so I figured it could work with other paper things too.” She directs a meaningful glance at the letter still held in his hand.

Ming Fan opens his mouth. He wants to tell her that it’s silly, that Shizun is alive and well, but he remembers something Mu-shishu once said and the words get stuck in his throat.

Most souls pass into the cycle of reincarnation long before a funeral can be arranged, he said, draping another blanket over Yingying and Shen Qingqiu, who have fallen asleep clinging to each other. It was the day of her mother’s funeral and the only time Ming Fan has ever seen Shizun fall asleep in company, just as drained by the loss as his niece. Funerals and mourning rites are not for the benefit of those who have passed, but for those who have stayed behind. It’s through ritual and remembrance that we grow to accept that someone who once filled a part of our life is no longer there. 

Sometimes it feels like nobody else is missing the way Shizun was before, but Ming Fan does. He misses the man, sharp and thin-faced and often unpleasant, who nonetheless chose mean, mediocre Ming Fan as his head disciple. As a future hallmaster; a future peer.

Mourning is for the benefit of those who remain.

Ming Fan holds out the envelope and watches as the corner catches fire along with the paper birds.

“Shizun. My sister is getting married next month.” His voice cracks. “She wanted to have you as a guest of honor. We would have loved to have you there.”

The flames consume the envelope. His hands shake.

People whisper about the empty seat at the wedding, but it matters little. That Shen Qingqiu is gone and there’s nobody worthy of filling his spot.

#svsss #tc writes

[labellefleur-sauvage]

Tempests and Urges

Slowly, Lucien turned his head and his gaze found hers. Everything quieted. The house’s inhabitants were gathered around Lucien, talking about what he could expect, but Elain focused only on the male in front of her. She tried to convey her apology and sorrow and want with her eyes, frozen with indecision and unable to say what she wanted.

Lucien stared back at her, and while she could so clearly see his own sadness and longing reflected in his brilliant russet eye, he gave her a small, slow bow and turned away. Elain’s stomach dropped. He was going to leave her, and Elain would be stuck in this house like a neglected piece of furniture, without the one being who had a hope of truly understanding and listening to her. She took a half step down the stairs at the same time Lucien turned to Rhys and nodded his head…

“Wait!”

...

"Take me with you."

Chapter II of my gift for @stickyelectrons for the @acotargiftexchange! Thank you for your patience (the holidays were busy!) but I'm excited to share this next chapter with you! Wishing everyone a happy new year!

Read on AO3

XXX

II.

When Lucien rose that morning, never in his wildest dreams could he have imagined how the day would turn out: interrupted by Elain Archeron when he was seconds away from being sent to the Continent, and the same woman insisting on joining him on his quest to find the lost mortal queen. Secretly, when Elain announced her intentions and Nesta questioned if she had been placed under a spell, Lucien had the same thought as the eldest Archeron. But as Elain made her case to her sisters, her eyes had filled with the eerily familiar fight and stubbornness he’d seen countless times in Feyre’s eyes. Perhaps that was just an Archeron trait, he thought. 

Another apparent Archeron trait: sheer willpower. Lucien thought that this particular characteristic may have skipped over Elain, but as they came to at the base of a tremendous mountain range and Rhys vanished with a nod and a wisp of smoke, Elain simply took a look around at their surroundings then looked to Lucien with a determined look on her face. “So, which way?”

Lucien took out his map and showed Elain their approximate location. Montesere occupied the northwestern corner of the Continent, bordered by the sea on its northern and western shores, with rolling hills that grew to rocky mountains along its eastern edges. In an ideal world, they would be able to walk in a southeasterly direction to Koschei’s lake from their current location, without worrying about the Continent’s marauding thieves and criminals. In an ideal world, they wouldn’t be making this journey at all, Lucien thought, so any wishes for an easier route seemed a bit pointless. 

“How far are we from the western ports?” Elain asked, studying the map dotted with notes and diagrams. 

“About three days. There are some forests we can camp in each night.”

“Right. Let’s go.”

That was two days ago, and the pair hadn’t exchanged more than a few words since. Not that Lucien hadn’t tried to make conversation. He asked Elain about her hobbies–”What else do you enjoy growing in your garden?” or “Do you enjoy dancing?” even “Any other interests?”—and all he received were one word answers or an unimpressed ‘hmph’ that even Lucien, master flirt and wordsmith that he was, didn’t know how to expand upon to further their conversations. Elain never asked him anything other than confirmation that they were on track to the port, so Lucien took the hint. 

Lucien thought he and Elain would finally discuss what tied them together. Clearly, Elain insisted on joining him for reasons other than being alone with him for an extended period of time, working together towards a common cause and getting to know each other.

Mates. Cauldron, even months after the bond snapped into place, Lucien was still winded by the knowledge that he had a mate. No, that perhaps didn’t surprise him; who his mate was, and wasn’t, was what he still couldn’t wrap his head around. 

He had thought it before and he thought it now: Jesminda was the exact opposite of Elain. Jesminda, full of life and laughter, fearless, confident and secure in herself and what she stood for. She always had a smile for Lucien, and matched his fire with her own unique warmth. 

Elain held no warmth or happiness for Lucien. Not that she needed any, he thought. She owed him nothing, even as his inner beast wanted to grab her shoulders, make her look at him, make her listen to him as he begged and pleaded his case for why he was a worthy male for her. 

Guilt over Jesminda and his newfound happiness at discovering his mate still warred within him. Much of Lucien’s time and thoughts since discovering the mating bond had been devoted to reconciling his feelings towards the female he had once loved so fiercely. 

He had moved on from Jesminda, or, as moved on as one could be after watching the female he thought was his mate murdered before his own eyes. He hadn’t been…unhappy, for some time, per se, but had been merely existing for the past several hundred years. Some decades were better than others, but Lucien had long ago lost the wonder and excitement that rising each day once brought him. Lucien had accepted Jesminda’s death and the inevitability that he would never know such love and happiness again.

But then Hybern happened. The Cauldron happened.

And now here, right in front of him, was the most breathtaking female he had ever seen. His heart called out to hers, even as his head cautioned him to slow down, to stop these dangerous and near traitorous thoughts. A small part of him still loved Jesminda, and most likely always would; was it wrong of him to one day move on, to want to feel the love and desire that he’d once had, but with someone else?

Did he even deserve this love? He had done so much wrong in his life, and for the Mother to still bless him with the most beautiful female he’d ever seen… 

“Will you stop sighing back there? Whatever it is you’re thinking about, you’re being more dramatic than Nesta when Feyre wouldn’t give her money for a new pair of shoes.”

Lucien raised an eyebrow. They had formed an unspoken walking pattern: one ten feet in front of the other, never talking except for directions, and always looking ahead. At first it bothered him, but as Lucien began walking behind Elain, getting a generous view of her bottom and legs in the tight Illyrian leathers everyone in the Night Court insisted on wearing, he decided to keep his mouth shut. 

Not now, though. “I’m being dramatic? You’re the one who started a public family fight after you had barely spoken anything for weeks because you wanted to accompany me in finding this mortal queen. I’d love to know why exactly you’re here, by the way, because it clearly wasn’t to get to know me.” Lucien paused. “Why did Nesta need money from Feyre?”

Elain turned to face him, a pretty pink blush staining her cheeks. “It’s really none of your business–”

“It seems you’ve forgotten I already know quite a bit about your family business, thanks to you.”

“But before, when we were humans, Feyre, er, hunted and supplied our family with most of our money,” Elain rushed out, looking back ahead. Lucien could have sworn she started walking faster as well. 

“Feyre said you all wouldn’t last a month after she came to the Spring Court, but I didn’t think she was being serious.” Lucien stuffed his hands in his pockets as best he could with his heavy pack on his back and raised a condescending eyebrow, despite the fact that Elain wasn’t looking at him. “So you willingly let Feyre hunt and starve herself to provide everything for your family?” 

Elain stopped and turned to face him, her face red, legs wide and clenched fists by her side. The stance of someone getting ready for a fight. “Right, because as the son of a High Lord, you know everything about doing any sort of hard work to survive?”

Lucien sneered. If Elain knew what being the son of Beron Vanserra truly entailed, she’d wipe that leer off her pink lips. Lucien could tell her of the times he’d been struck or hit for any perceived slight towards his father, or the time he’d been plied with liquor until he passed out and his father’s cronies winnowed his unconscious body to a desolate forest on the other side of Autumn Court with nothing on him except his clothes and a note, telling him to find his way back to the Forest House in time for dinner, all because Lucien had made a few too many jokes with a visiting nobleman. 

Lucien could easily have told Elain all this and more, and how each and every instance of cruelty and malice prepared Lucien for a hard life of doing anything to survive. But she wouldn’t be able to comprehend or truly understand what he’d gone through, how truly monstrous the fae were. Or perhaps worse, those big brown eyes of hers would fill with pity. 

He’d received enough pitying looks to last him a lifetime. Instead, Lucien took a step towards her. “I at least know how to fish, so I guess you could say I do. More than you, at least.”

“Wonderful,” Elain spat. “If anything should happen to us, we can call upon your supposedly superb ability to catch a fish to save us.”

“You forget I’m also a skilled warrior.” Another step closer to his mate. “In fact, I’m very comfortable with all manner of swords in different lengths,” he purred, raising a single eyebrow suggestively and smirking. 

Most females needed very little convincing to lay down and raise their skirts whenever Lucien used that tone of voice and moved his lips like that. The female in front of him, however, wasn’t like that, Lucien realized a second later.

Elain laughed mockingly. “Well, Feyre gave me a knife the size of my pinky–I’m assuming that’s the length you’re the most familiar with?”

Lucien frowned. “I know Feyre has an attitude, but I incorrectly assumed you were better than your younger sister in that regard.”

“I do not have an attitude!”

“Feyre also single-handedly saved all of Prythian while she was Under the Mountain, and is working tirelessly to save us all again, so I suppose the attitude is warranted,” Lucien said loudly, ignoring Elain.

“And you almost destroyed all of Prythian, and my life, when you allied with Hybern and turned me into…this, so I think my attitude is justified as well!” 

Lucien bit his tongue. He’d apologized for that, and deeply regretted not being more assertive with Tamlin when things with Hybern progressed, even when Lucien’s conscious screamed at him day after day that what they were doing was wrong, that nothing, not even Feyre, was worth betraying everyone and sullying themselves by allying with Hybern. The guaranteed abuse from Tamlin would have been preferable to what transpired. 

“As I said, Lady, I apologize,” Lucien gritted. “It was never my intention to cause you or anyone harm.”

Elain scoffed. “Is that the best apology you can make? I thought there would be more groveling from the male who took everything from me.”

“Do you want me to get on my knees and beg for your forgiveness?”

This time it was Elain who took a step towards him. She planted her hands on her hips. “Would you even know what to do if you went on your knees before me?”

Cauldron help him. Maybe the Mother knew exactly what she was doing when she decided the two of them should be mates. The fire dancing in her eyes called out to his own warmth, and the blood pulsing through his body called out to her. He wondered if Elain could hear how fast his heart was beating at that moment, in sheer excitement and want. 

It had been some time since he’d wanted anyone this desperately.

Lucien took the final step towards Elain. He glanced down at her flushed face, his gaze lingering on her lips when her tongue peeked out to wet them. She was breathing fast, and her eyes looked slightly glazed. “I will gladly get on my knees–”

Elain gasped and her body went stiff. “The crow will strike with bloody wings,” she mumbled, staring at something over his shoulder. “Its children will turn the sky black as night.”

“Oh hell,” Lucien muttered as Elain swayed on the spot. He eyed her nervously as her hazy eyes continued staring off into the distance. This was obviously a vision, and like her previous ones, frustratingly vague and cryptic. “Elain?” he called softly after a few moments. 

Nothing. It was like she had fallen asleep standing up. Lucien snapped his fingers in front of her face. “Elain?” Still no response. He gave her a few more moments and looked around. There was nothing of interest behind him that she could be staring at. He sighed, unsure what to do. Would she simply…come to, on her own? Did she need to be forcefully brought back to the present?

Clearly, standing stock still in the middle of nowhere wasn’t conducive to breaking her out of her trance, so more immediate action needed to be taken. Tentatively, Lucien reached out and wrapped his hands gently around her upper arms and gave her just the smallest shake. “Elain?”

Cauldron, what was going on inside her mind that couldn’t be broken? “I hope you remember more about your vision than I do, because I wasn’t paying attention to the first part,” he grumbled. 

Enough of this–they had to keep moving, and if he had to be the one to move both of them, so be it. Lucien bent down below Elain to wrap his hands around her knees right as she gasped.

“What are you doing down there?! I wasn’t serious about you getting on your knees! Get away!”

“Ah, stop it!” Lucien threw up his arms to protect his face from Elain’s swinging hands. “You had a vision and were just standing there like a statue, I was going to carry you so we could keep moving! Stop trying to hit me!”

“I lose myself for a few seconds and you try to make a move on me! I thought you’d be more of a gentleman!” Elain stepped away from Lucien and smoothed her hands over her unruly hair and clothes, shooting him a suspicious glare. 

“Who told you I was a gentleman?”

Elain blushed, and Lucien decided he very much enjoyed how the color elevated her pretty face. “I just assumed, being the son of a High Lord, that you would have manners and courtesy becoming of your station.”

Lucien barked a laugh. “Fae nobility doesn’t operate under the same ideals of goodness as humans, Elain. Me being the son of a High Lord means nothing to me, and I am by no means a gentleman, as you will soon come to find out,” he promised, grinning at her with all his teeth exposed.

Elain inhaled sharply. “And I think,” Lucien continued, stepping back into her personal space, “that you don’t really want a gentleman, do you?”

From this close up, Lucien could smell her sweet honey and jasmine scent, along with an altogether new and entirely different scent. Faint, so faint, but the burgeoning scent of her excitement danced across his tongue. He nearly groaned. 

Lucien knew just enough about Elain’s former betrothed to get the measure of him: the son of a general from a safe, respectable, predictable family that probably considered organizing their vast weapons collection as the highlight of their year. Looking at Elain now, her breath quick and scent excited, Lucien knew she’d be permanently bored and miserable should she have married that mortal. No, Elain perhaps didn’t have the same fire as her sisters, but she was intense in her own ways and needed someone to challenge her all the same. She needed excitement. She needed an adventure.

It could certainly just be the mating bond riding them, making them feel this way, but he didn’t think it was just that. This close to her, he could have sworn he saw a flicker of anticipation and surprise in the way her eyes searched his face. Trust me, Lucien pleaded with his eyes. He reached out to their bond, the string connecting them, and slowly moved along it. Give me a chance…

She turned her nose up at him. “You’re wrong–I would very much appreciate a gentleman, someone kind and who doesn’t make untoward advances on me, specially right now.” Without another word, Elain turned around and began marching away, her boots stomping so hard into the ground small puffs of dirt arose with each step. 

He counted to ten in his head, feeling cold and frustrated in the aftermath of her rebuttal. “You’re going the wrong way!” Lucien called after her retreating form. 

Elain turned back and gave Lucien a glare filled with so much heat it could melt the icicles off the palace in the Winter Court. She stuck her middle finger up at him as she passed.

Another Archeron family trait. Lucien couldn’t help but chuckle. 

As much as he would like to follow Elain from a distance–annoyance did wonderful things to her bottom–they needed to discuss what just happened. Lucien jogged to catch up to Elain and matched her pace. “So, what was your vision about?”

Elain gave him a look from the corner of her eyes but relented with a frustrated sigh. “It was…blurry, even by what I normally experience,” she admitted. “Normally, I have an idea of what the vision is about–I’ve seen Vassa transform into a bird more times than I can count by now, and saw Hybern’s ravens in the Library. But this time, it was like trying to watch a play through a thick fog.”

“Why was this vision different?”

“I don’t know.” Her voice with thick with frustration. “It also may explain why I was unresponsive for several minutes. I tried to…follow the vision, get closer to what was happening in the hopes that I could see it better.”

Lucien paused. “That seems dangerous. I know very little about Seers, but I know the mind can be a very dangerous place to be stuck whenever powerful magic is around, even for the most proficient of fae.”

“I don’t really have a choice, do I? The only real skill I bring to this small operation are my visions, and that’s only if they’re actually useful to us,” she muttered irritably. 

Lucien didn’t agree–their earlier witty argument was already the highlight of his month, and they’d only been together for two days. He changed tactics. “Perhaps this vision is going to happen so far in the future that its details aren’t set in stone yet. Maybe it can still change, depending on what happens in the present, and that’s why you couldn’t see anything clearly.”

Elain sighed. “Perhaps. But why show it to me now, for me to worry over?”

“Then don’t worry about it.”

“I just can’t not worry about it now,” Elain scoffed. 

“Then worry about it with me. I’m not here to fight with you, Elain,” Lucien said gently. “Regardless of how you feel about us, we need to work together, at least until we find Vassa. Can you do that?”

She bit her lip. “Of course, you’re right. We’re a team–” Lucien couldn’t help his smile, his heart soaring– “just until we find Vassa,” Elain ended. 

“Right,” Lucien muttered, his heart sinking back into the pit of his stomach. “Just until we find Vassa.”

But Lucien knew, as they continued walking in silence the rest of the day, that he wanted to try to be more with Elain than just temporary teammates. He’d experienced her wit and fire first hand, knew she was flawed like him and on some level desired him, and suspected, under her biting remarks, that she was kind and generous and good. The fact that she was utterly beautiful didn’t even factor in to his initial reasons of why he wanted to spend more time by her side.

Lucien now had two very pressing missions: find the last mortal queen who had been transformed into a firebird, and learn all he could about Elain Archeron.

“Did you care for any birds growing up?” Lucien asked conversationally later, after they had found a small copse of trees to shelter under during the night. Dinner had yielded an awkward conversation about the weather, along with their dried meats, bread and fruit. They were each laying on their respective bedrolls, staring at the night sky through the branches of the trees. 

Elain furrowed her brows and frowned. “What?”

“Well, this is the third time you’ve had a vision concerning birds; an odd coincidence, I wasn’t sure if you kept any birds as pets in your youth.”

“None at all.”

“Ah.” Lucien lightly drummed his fingers on the ground beneath him. “Do you like birds?”

“I’ve never thought about birds in any capacity until very recently,” Elain said blankly.

“Something we have in common. I, too, don’t care for birds, and after tonight, I never want to think about the flying pests ever again.”

To his delight, Elain gave a short laugh. “Finally, one thing we can agree on. Good night, Lucien.”

Lucien had charmed plenty of females before to know that getting them to laugh was one of the hardest obstacles to overcome in wooing. The fact that they had gone from arguing, to a tentative trust, to laughing, all in the space of one day was a very good sign, Lucien thought with a grin.

One step down, he thought happily as he drifted off to sleep, and only a million more to go.

#elucien #elucien fic #elucien fanfic #lucien vanserra #elain archeron #elain x lucien #elain archeron x lucien vanserra #acotar #my fics #my fic #acotarsecretsanta2022 #acotar gift exchange

[zoe-is-amazingg]

Could I request maybe Steve or Billy or JJ (I’m so sorry I’m so indecisive) where you’re at a party and a guy is being strange and invading personal bubble and Steve/Billy/JJ (whichever) steps in and is like jealous but justifiably and is just protective or however you think they’d react?

I’m so sorry and I hope this is okay, this is my first time requesting something and I feel like I’m about to sweat from stress and nerves

Too Close For My Liking Man

JJ Maybank X F!Cameron!Reader

W/C - 1.0K

Summary - Some guy is invading your space and JJ doesn't approve.

Warnings - Angst, fluff, swearing, alcohol use and alcohol + drug mention and that's abt it i think!

You toss around in your bed sheets as you hear booming music over the speakers Rafe set up in the house. Fuck him. You had a test at school tomorrow and you did not need this. Rafe didn't understand, he fails school and Dad still pays him money for motorbike fuel and crack. You fail and he'll disown you. Rafe was so privileged, and you hated it with every bone in your body.

Your phone buzzes on the nightstand, you sigh and turn it on.

Sare-Bear 🐻

Babes, you need to come down here rn. Rafe is going to kill you.

Why?

Your little crush arrived.

Shit. Read 11:23 am

--------

You put a proper tight dress that you had for any occasion, you weren't about to show up in a baggy T-shirt and worn-out jeans. 'Your little crush arrived.' She meant JJ, a pouge. She was right, Rafe will kill you. As long as you reach JJ before he does. You put on heels and walk out of your room and down the stairs.

"Hey! Hey! Y/N! I was hoping to see you here!" JJ exclaims as he brushes your shoulder with his fingertips. "What the fuck are you doing here?!" You half yell, you grab his wrist and lead him into your bedroom.

"We're already in your room princess? I thought you would've had some drinks first before we got in this position." He smirks. You shake your head and try to not say something back like you usually would. He looks at your bookshelf and scans the books with his fingers. "Answer the question." You mutter out.

"Uh, I'm here because the pouge were having drinks at the chateau, right? Anyway, Kie and Pope went somewhere and John B, I don't even fucking know, but I turned on the TV and started thinking about us!" He explains and you tilt your head ever so slightly at him. "In what way?"

"Well, we flirt, all the fucking time right, so what if we were more." He asks, taking a step closer to you, you were still at the door, fingers crossed no one will come in and ask why you had a man-whore of a pouge in your room. "Uh, two things, one, my dad will kill me, two, Rafe would kill both of us."

"But I just think that you're so pretty and th-""Look, JJ, I really am flattered, but we will never work, you're a pouge, I'm a kook and my parents and sibling will kill my ass." You interrupt him and he nods. He looks so sad; you would do anything just to make this moment never exist. Fuck the test tomorrow you just broke a friendship with someone who meant some much to you and as what he is saying to you makes so much sense to your heart it doesn't as much to your brain.

He steps closer to you and places a kiss on your lips so softly and breaks the kiss. You really wanted more, but you wanted alcohol more now. "Bye, Y/N." JJ mumbles as he leaves. Shit. Shit. Shit. You wish with everything that you could retake those words and never of said them in the first place. You wish that you let him finish his goddamned sentence.

You slowly walk out of your room and down the stairs. You walk into the kitchen and find a bottle of Malibu and slowly pour out shots for yourself until a guy comes around and slowly starts making small talk with you. "So, what are you doing all alone?" He asks you.

"I actually live here for your information." You slur. He smirks at your remarks and cups your elbow. He tries to pull you in, but you push away. "Have you had one to many, princess? I didn't know you lived here." You sigh and push off the counter and try to go to the bathroom, but he stops you and holds your waist.

As soon as he said princess, that's when you wanted nothing to do with him. It reminded you too much of the friend you just lost about thirty minutes prior to when he came around. Fuck, you really couldn't get out of talking to him, could you?

"So, are you dating someone? Or are you mine for the taking?" The guy asks and you nod your head. He was holding your waist hard, too hard. You wanted to disappear and never see him again, but as soon as you try pull away, his grasp on you grows stronger.

"I'm-""Taken. By me, so please, step away, you're standing too close for my liking man." You hear JJ say, the look on the creeps' face as he backs away from you and JJ takes you to your own bedroom. You hug him as soon as the door closes and your press a kiss to his forehead. "Thank you so much, I don't know what I would've done without you." You whisper in his ear. As soon as you back away, your eyes go to his lips and his hands slither around your waist. Your lips hover inches away from each other's as you decide to break the gap and kiss him. Your arms twine around his neck and you giggle as you both break the kiss.

"I think we might just make it after all." You smile

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------A/N - Please request things if you want! I have a couple that I am working on but here is the people that I write for ***

Taglist request here **

@idky5

#jj mayback x reader #jj maybank #jj maybank fanfiction #outer banks #outer banks fluff #outer banks fanfiction #outer banks x reader #outerbanks #rudy pankow #rudy outer banks #obx imagine #obx netflix #obx x reader #obx #jj obx #obx2

[dc-and-arfrona]

Too Late

----

Jason Todd x GN!Reader

Summary: Jason waits wayyyy too long to ask you out, so someone else does.

Type: Angst

Masterlist

Word Count: 1.5k+

----

Jason's POV

I walk, nearly skip, to your apartment. Today is the day that I am going to ask you out. We have grown so close in friends and after a good talk with Roy, I was ready to make my move. I had everything ready, your favorite flowers in my hand and a small little speech in my head. As I get off the elevator I see another man in front of your apartment. Delivery guy? Maybe? Hopefully? My heart sank when I saw you greet him at the door with a hug and a kiss on the cheek. 

 My heart constricts, and I stand frozen in the hallway, invisible waves of pain crashing over me. How did I let this happen? I had been so sure that I was making progress, that we shared something special. But now, watching you exchange affectionate gestures with this stranger, it feels like my chance has slipped away. I lean against the wall, my grip on the flowers tightening, as the reality of my own hesitation and indecisiveness settles in. The weight of regret hangs heavy in the air, mocking my missed opportunity. 

 Unfortunately I am not invisible, they see me at the corner of your eye and the strange man turns around to look over at me as well. Wally fucking West. Were they fucking? What was Wally doing with you? What kind of greeting was that? Wally and they froze as they stared at me and the flowers in my hands. Wally quickly, almost possessively, grabs you and intertwines your hands. 

 My heart feels like it's been shattered into a million pieces. The sight before me is a painful twist of fate, mocking my unrequited feelings. I try to keep my composure, my face a mask of neutrality, but inside, a storm of emotions rages. Anger, jealousy, and heartbreak intertwine, creating a tumultuous mix that threatens to consume me. I manage to summon a weak smile, forcing myself to play it off as though I'm not affected. "Hey, guys," I say, my voice betraying a hint of sadness. "Didn't mean to interrupt. Just wanted to drop these off. Hope they brighten your day." With a final nod, I turn on my heel and walk away, my footsteps echoing the sound of my shattered hopes and dreams. 

 A few moments later I get a text from you. I am begging, praying that it's an explanation and nothing was going on. My heart was able to sink even more when I read the message. "Jason, please don't tell the team about our relationship, I am not ready to tell you. I can trust you right? Also, thank you so much for the flowers! :)" 

 My hands tremble as I read the text, the words burning into my wounded heart. It's as if the world around me fades into a blur, leaving only the weight of your secret and the ache of betrayal. I struggle to find the right response, my fingers hovering over the keyboard. Can I trust you? The question echoes in my mind, a painful reminder of the fracture in our connection. But somewhere deep inside, despite the pain, I find a flicker of compassion. I take a deep breath, typing a reply, my words laced with a bittersweet mixture of resignation and longing. "You can trust me," I type, each letter a testament to the strength I muster. "I'll keep your secret. Take care." With a heavy heart, I press send, knowing that my unspoken feelings will remain buried in the depths of my soul, a secret that will forever haunt me. 

Months later, and I am still heartbroken. What makes it worse is that you have come out to the team. I see you now everywhere. Wally always makes some kind of show that he is your boyfriend. I could almost swear that after every kiss Wally gives a glance over at me to make sure that I can see that his lips are on you... and not mine. He knows that I love you. He also knows that I am too late. Our friendship hasn't been affected a bit, you thankfully believed me that the flowers were just a random kind gesture on a random Tuesday.

 One day, as we gather for a mission debriefing, a subtle shift in the atmosphere catches my attention. Amidst the serious discussions and mission preparations, I notice Artemis and Wally exchanging sly glances, your banter taking on a new level of intimacy. The once playful dynamic between you now carries a weight I can't ignore. My heart skips a beat as I observe your reaction, the flicker of discomfort that momentarily crosses your face. It's as if a veil has been lifted, revealing a hidden truth that had remained concealed until now. Questions swirl in my mind, but I bite my tongue, unsure if it's my place to intervene. The weight of unspoken secrets lingers in the air, leaving me to wonder if this newfound connection between Artemis and Wally will only deepen the void that separates us further. 

Then it all explodes, you are at my door sobbing. He broke your heart. He had your precious beautiful heart and he broke it. He ran with someone else and left you. I have never experienced so much anger. The person I love the most, the one I wanted to protect with all my life, was sobbing in my arms due to some dick that couldn't comprehend the amazing gift he had. 

As you stand at my door, your tears flowing uncontrollably, my heart shatters into a thousand fragments. The sight of you, broken and vulnerable, ignites a firestorm of anger within me. How could he? How could Wally, who had been entrusted with your precious, beautiful heart, treat it so callously? The fierce protectiveness that has always swelled within me now roars to life, ready to confront the source of your pain. I hold you tightly in my arms, my own tears mixing with yours, a blend of sadness and rage. In that moment, I vow to shield you from any further harm, to be the rock you can lean on when the world becomes too heavy. As your sobs echo in the room, I find solace in knowing that, despite the anguish we both endure, we have each other to lean on, to mend the broken pieces of our hearts together.

Months later, the pain of unrequited love still lingered within me, casting a shadow over our friendship. Every day was a struggle, watching you and Wally together, witnessing the love and happiness that should have been mine. But I couldn't bear the weight of my silence any longer.

Summoning all the courage I had left, I found myself standing before you one evening, our eyes locking in a bittersweet dance of emotions. The air was heavy with unspoken words, as if the universe held its breath, waiting for the truth to be set free.

"I need to tell you something," I finally whispered, my voice laced with vulnerability. "These past months, I've been carrying a weight in my heart, a weight of regret and longing. The truth is, I've loved you for so long, and seeing you with Wally has been tearing me apart."

A mix of surprise and sadness flashed across your face, and for a moment, I feared that I had made a mistake. But I had to be honest, for both of us.

"I never wanted to jeopardize our friendship," I continued, my voice trembling. "But I can't keep pretending that these feelings don't exist. You deserve to know the truth, even if it means risking our relationship."

Silence hung in the air, and I braced myself for your response, unsure of what the future held for us. But then, something remarkable happened. You reached out, gently taking my hand in yours, your touch sending warmth through my entire being.

"Jason," you said softly, your eyes filled with compassion. "I had no idea you felt this way. The truth is, I've been grappling with my own doubts and uncertainties. Wally may have been a distraction, but it was you who captured my heart from the beginning."

Hope bloomed within me, fragile yet resilient, as your words washed over me. In that moment, we stood together, two broken souls finding solace in each other's arms.

From that day forward, we embarked on a journey of healing and discovery, navigating the complexities of our intertwined past and forging a new path ahead. The pain of the past gradually faded, replaced by a love that grew stronger with each passing day.

Though the road was not without its challenges, we faced them together, drawing strength from the unwavering bond we shared. And as we embraced our newfound love, the scars of our past became reminders of the resilience of our hearts.

In the end, the timing may have been imperfect, and our path may have been fraught with obstacles, but our love proved to be stronger than any pain or regret. And together, we created a future built on trust, understanding, and the courage to seize the love that had eluded us for far too long.

#dc universe #jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #robin x reader #jason todd imagine #jason todd x y/n #red hood x you #dc imagine #jason todd x you #red hood imagine

[masha-nikita]

How strong is his Mars?- Walter Model

This is a continuation of my series on the Wehrmacht- “How strong is his Mars?” to test a theory in Astrology community- you’ve got to have a strong Mars to be competent in the military.

Is that theory true? Let’s find out with Walter Model.

A Pisces Mars can be pretty random- this Mars cannot fully explain “why I take this action??” It instinctually knows what to act on—pretty randomly, mind you. It generally leads to bipolarity and unsteadiness, unless a “personal truth” can be fully reached (after a lot of randomness and struggles).

As previously explored in Manstein’s Pisces Moon, Pisces is dissolution of boundaries. Since Mars is basically a forward moving action / goal-oriented momentum / how one overcome obstacles with force, its scattered force does not make a particularly effective Mars. Not a good placement for military leaders, but a good placement for poets and philosophers.

this Pisces Mars doesn’t distinguish one operation from the next one, nor does it put different actions into categories. Model probably sees “let the generals all sit down and name this attack Operation XXX, and make a decision” the dumbest approach and a waste of time. From the moment the war starts to its very end, everything is a huge flow of messy motions- that’s the gist of Model’s Mars.

Some astrologers would comment Pisces Mars as “too soft and nice to other people, too accommodating, too indecisive”. I think that is a dumb take if you take a closer look at Walter Model, whose eyes even the Führer dreaded.

This is indeed not the best Mars out there- Pisces Mars is simply too random, too scattered, too sentimental, and that weakens Mars significantly. It’ll make him an excellent tactician but a shitty strategist. On its own, it is only a 5-ish score Mars, but it is very well-supported with one important aspect, so its score is bumped up all the way to 8.

This Mars has incredible support from the Neptune-Pluto conjunction- but this is also Model’s greatest curse. Neptune-Pluto was a really long and really powerful generational aspect that lasted throughout the late 19th to early 20th century.

Neptune being the collective dream state, its combination with Pluto signifies “dreaming about the ultimate destruction, power, and transformation, the Ex-Machina-like CULT OF PERSONALITY that would end all history with a final history, whose mighty wheels crush little individuals like worthless bugs.” Everybody from that era was under this NEPTUNE-PLUTO influence, and you could infer where a person stands with this CULT OF PERSONALITY ZEITGEIST (be it formed around Hitler or Stalin) from their personal chart.

Erich von Manstein has his Sun in opposition to this aspect, it means his personal ego opposed and despised this cultish shit. But for Model, it is of the strongest support for his Mars, and is also harmonious with his Sun, his ego.

It doesn’t matter if Model knew on a rational level the whole NAZI shtick is a piece of shit, NEPTUNE-PLUTO was a Lovecraftian power, a pitch black Eldritch God that raised from the deepest of abyss of collective madness and lifted his poor little soul up. There is no way that a Pisces Mars could resist a dragon born directly out of that era.

In other words, without the power of this NEPTUNE-PLUTO, Model’s Mars is just a mopey little sad Pisces creature that acts randomly and goes with a messy flow. But with this support, his Mars becomes magical- not necessarily psychic, but magical. This random Mars all of a sudden makes miracles.

Model could notice some random thing on the battlefield, and by this Neptune-Pisces intuition, totally out of nowhere, decides to do something else, and it turns out to be a surprisingly good call. He had to personally run around with his soldiers or else his Mars would not work this magic.

PLUTO sextile Mars alone is a powerful boost, with or without NEPTUNE’S magical touch. Pluto-Mars allows him to simplify the worst conditions down to the ugliest of truth (the kind of horrible truth about the frontline that would give von Brauchitsch heart attacks and von Bock stomach ulcers), and he would not flinch and does not care at all. Oh, the war condition is a total disaster? Nah, Model does not feel a thing, he keeps going. Pluto the Roman god of Hell can drag a person through very cruel conditions, and the native actually loves it.

This chart unfortunately belongs to a sad soul. Model has a Leo Moon in opposition to his friendly, kind, and humanitarian Aquarius Sun. Due to Leo’s nature and its adversarial aspect, this overbearing Moon wants to behave like Sun, and totally beat down this Aquarius Sun and kicks it around, like a tyrannical mother.

Leo signifies AUTHORITY, and Moon is generally one’s feminine mind, archetypal MOTHER figure, ie, “what would lead you back to your mother’s womb of the subconscious, in order to find your deepest comfort zone”. Model finds his comfort zone in “authority”. I cannot explain it better than Asuka’s abusive mother, and how come this bad mother drives Asuka to fight to death in Evangelion’s final scene.

War historians’ often make comments about how Model was a war realist (who sees the whole reality). But, in my opinion, it is more likely that the Pluto-Mars aspect allows him the soul capacity to stare down the ugliest of truth and not flinch.

For this reason and on the ground of reading his chart, I strongly disagree with Thersites the Historian, whose comment I paraphrase here- “Model has been brutal with the Red Army, so he was afraid of being handed over to the Soviets. He figured it was a better option to kill himself.”

In conclusion, when the huge spirit of that ZEITGEIST fell down, that fanatical and deeply disturbing dream of the collective false god died, Model died with it.

#wwii germany #3rd reich #walter model #astrology community #astrology chart #astrology #astro observations #astro notes #pluto #neptune #heer #wehrmacht #feldmarschall #Youtube #how strong is his mars #wehrmachtblr

[0man]

familiarity

Artwork: The Kiss by Gustav Klimt

Word count: 662

Pairing: Toji x reader

A/N: I had a horrible month, wrote this because all I needed was him to just tell me I'm not alone. For those that have been having a shit experience too I'm sorry you're going through shit too so here's some love from my side.

No warnings just a comfort fic

Such indecisive weather, from sun to fog to sun to rain, as if it's going through a day itself. What to do what to do, there's nothing really new up on the ceiling is there. No heat comes from the floor under, just cold wooden tiles recently stained with new tear puddles, and also some dents from the catastrophe of a mess evident in the living room. The whole area looks like someone ransacked it, maybe some things were destroyed who knows? It didn't really come up as a concern with all the rage.

Can I move? I don't even know how long I've been lying here, the only comfort I have is the cold wooden tiles. I feel so hollow, a shell of a person, an empty existence that simply lives in this world because that is the burden I have. Why do I have to go through this? Why is it always me? Why not the horrible people, why are the horrible people always the ones living happy? Should I become a horrible person? Will I maybe then be able to find happiness? If the world is fair then why are the good people always suffering?

A sudden presence makes itself known by touching my shoulder. He's come back, I didn't even hear him come in, I can't hear anything he's saying, he looks frantic.

He lifts me up and takes me I don't know where, my mind is hollow and my ears are mute, I'm there in body but I have no presence other than that.

The feeling of the couch registers to me, he's kneeling down infront of me, both hands cupping my cheeks, why do you look sad? Is it because of me? "Answer me sweetheart, what happened?" I hear him lowly, muffled and at low volume. "Fuckin' shit can you hear me? Please answer me" His voice comes in clear, and it hurts to hear him sound so pained. "Nod if you can hear me baby just give me any sign" I nod like he wants me to, and oh the sigh of relief that he gives. He pulls me in, plants a harsh kiss on my forehead.

"I felt so alone" My voice barely comes out normal, raw and destroyed from all the screaming and crying, "Why can't I be happy Toji? Why can't I be happy without consequences? Why does it always have to be me?" He's laid my head on his shoulder, the vibration of his heartbeat courses through and i can feel how fast it's going, I'm so sorry I made you worried. "You're not alone, you're never alone sweetheart, I'm here."

He doesn't deserve this, how many times have I made him go through this? The hurt I carry always affects someone, and now that person is Toji. "I'm sorry" My eyes blur again and tears which I didn't know I still have come out, "I'm so sorry for this Toji."

His embrace tightens, one hand placed on the back of my head, it's loving, it's a comfort I always seem to forget that exists other than the cold wooden tiles, it's a comfort that makes me break all over again. "It's okay, don't be sorry, I'm here" His heartbeat has slowed, slowly going back to normal, and he holds me like this for a few minutes longer.

And as the silence is born, I realise how much I love him, how much he's done for me, I realise that the only comfort I would forever welcome would be his embrace and loving words, his soft consolations would be the only ones that I take heed to that aren't of pity. He is my peace of this life, he is the loving that I have longed for.

And as the silence exists, "Bad day?" He asks softly. I let out a small chuckle and nod. "You'll be okay, don't worry, I'll always be here." He kisses my cheek as I take hold of his hand. In his arms I feel safe, I feel like I am worth living. In his arms I don't feel alone.

"I love you."

He smiles, planting a kiss on my forehead again, "I love you too."

#toji angst #toji fluff #toji fushiguro #toji fic #jujutsu toji #toji imagine #jjk toji #toji scenarios #toji fushiguro x reader #jujutsu kaisen toji #toji x reader #jjk #jjk imagines #jjk angst #jjk x reader #jjk manga #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen #fushiguro toji #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen angst #jujutsu kaisen fluff

[plainlo-inthemorning]

Thranduil’s secret

Pairing: Tauriel x Kili Rating: 16+ Warnings: Mentions of violence, emotional hurt (but fear not …!) Words: 1.800 k.

Disclaimer: Canon what canon? This is for all the lovers out there.

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“They want to bury him”.

Snowflakes fall silently around them.

Nature attempting to softly smooth over the carnage.

“Yes”.

Her king remains standing a few feet from where she reclines on the frozen rock, hunched over the still-warm body of a future that has been so cruelly taken from her.

From both of them.

She could rage against Thranduil.

Blame his indecisiveness, his selfishness, for the death of the dwarf.

Had the king only dispatched his soldiers to the mountain, as both she and the wizard so implored him to do, trying to appeal to the heart he has forgotten how to use, much could have been different.

But grief has pushed the fight out of her. In its place is only hopelessness and a pain the like of which Tauriel has never felt before.

Legolas, her old friend, has left.

She did not notice when, or if he said something to her before turning away. At this moment, she has no space for him, either.

“If this is love, I do not want it”, she cries, hearing how desperate she sounds, as she looks to her king. “Please, take it from me”.

Thranduil does not move, but the icy unkindness from earlier has melted from his features. If Tauriel’s own eyes had not been filled with tears, she might have recognized her sadness mirrored in the king’s.

“Why does it hurt so much?” She cannot seem to stop herself, clutching Kili’s gloved hand in hers.

“Because it was real”.

Thranduil’s unwavering answer takes her aback.

She looks down upon the dwarf’s bloodstained face again. A single tear streak has painted a faint silver trail from the corner of one eye and down the side of his face.

She saw it fall when he died. When the orc’s blade pierced his chest.

Flecks of snow cling to his thick brown lashes. He is so beautiful to her, she thinks sorrow will tear her apart if she has to let go of him.

They just found each other. He gave his life defending hers.

Slowly, she bends her head and does what she has ached to do for days, what she should have done on the lakeshore when he pressed the rune stone into her hand.

She touches her lips to his.

They are still soft.

His are the first she has ever kissed.

If this were a children’s bedtime story, she would breathe life into him with her longing.

Only when Thranduil kneels on the other side of the body, does Tauriel remember the king is still there.

She thinks he will ask her to stand and come away, and is ready to protest, to cling to Kili. She will stay right here until his kin returns to claim him.

But Thranduil does not speak.

Instead, he does something very unexpected, his face suddenly a mask of concentration.

His strong brows have come together in a frown: He raises a hand and lets it hover over Kili’s head.

“What … what are you doing?” Tauriel has to swallow her sobs for the words to come out right.

The moment drags out.

The king lowers his palm to place it lightly on Kili’s chest.

Tauriel, wholly confused, idly wonders through her grief if this is the first time in all his many, many millennia that king Thranduil has touched a dwarf with anything but the pointy end of a sword.

“He is a fighter”, the king says quietly. There is wonder is his voice. “And he fights, still. So stubborn …”.

“W-what?!”

Thranduil looks up, meets her shocked eyes.

“His heart has stopped, yes. But his soul is still here. It is holding on …”.

Now it is Tauriel’s heart that nearly stops.

“How do you…how can you-”.

Her king’s attention has returned to Kili.

He answers Tauriel without looking at her.

“I have certain … gifts”.

In typical Thranduil fashion, the king does not elaborate, and his matter-of-fact tone does not invite questioning.

Yet for once, Tauriel is too gripped with emotion to be deterred.

“Can you bring him back?”, she blurts out. “Please, my king, please? If there is any chance … I … I would do anything. Please!”.

Bringing someone back from the dead is reserved for the most nightmarish, ancient evil magic.

Until recently, Tauriel had only heard nonsensical tales of the practise whispered, and even in those, the someones that were brought back, were dangerous, mindless shadow apparitions of their former selves.

But if what her king is saying about Kili’s soul is true …

Thranduil appears to hesitate before speaking but when he does, Tauriel feels as if he is reading her mind. She has sometimes suspected that that is indeed a secret gift of his. Another one.

“The kind of magic required to awaken the dead is not only forbidden, it is destructive to the natural order of the world. However, if the soul has not yet left the body-”

He pauses. Decides.

“It can be done, if done quickly. No matter the strength of the warrior, the soul will be forced to leave this plane soon after death has occurred. I do not know how this one is still here”.

Love, thinks Tauriel. She does not know if it is actually true, or if it is her hope speaking. He is still here because of love.

Then the other elf gasps. Thranduil regards Kili’s face with disbelief.

“Of course …”, he whispers. His palm flattens on Kili’s pierced armour, fingers spread out. “Elvish blood runs in his line. Many years back …”

Tauriel stares at her love. Her mouth opens and closes.

His finely defined face, the shape of his cheekbones, so different from most of his kin.

Except for his brother’s, and the dwarf king’s …

Impossible. Yet suddenly it makes sense.

Did Kili know?

No, Tauriel does not think so.

As for Thorin …?

“Tauriel”, the elfking says. His voice is even but insistent. It commands her full attention. “If I succeed in bringing him back to you, you must never speak to anyone of what happened here. Not a word, do you understand? Not to his kin. Not to him. Certainly not to the wizard … And not to Legolas”.

Something flutters beneath the deep timbre of Thranduil’s voice. A bottomless despair struggling to surface, to be recognized.

And Tauriel remembers what Legolas told her at Mount Gundabad. About his mother’s death there.

She draws in a breath as she looks into Thranduil’s blue, blue eyes, but the king holds up a hand, reading her like a book.

“No”, he says simply but firmly, and it is a no that silences her. A warning.

No.

The king then touches Kili’s forehead and closes his eyes.

Tauriel is squeezing the dwarf’s hand so hard her knuckles are turning as white as the ground.

Stillness.

And then the air seems to shimmer and fizz around them, thick with swirling magic.

The snowfall has stopped. Or it can no longer touch them.

Thranduil is muttering words under his breath that Tauriel cannot make out. He leans forward, long blond hair falling around his set face. The tips pool on Kili’s shoulders like a veil of fine silk engulfing him.

Time stands still, and Tauriel forgets to breathe.

She has no idea how many moments go by.

And then Kili’s chest rises, and his lips part.

And the dwarf gasps for air!

His whole body shivers as his eyes fly open to the sky, wild, wide, alive.

He is alive!

“Kili!” Tauriel cries out and takes his face in her hands.

Their eyes meet.

He blinks rapidly, like he has been pulled out of deep water. “Tauriel…” Shakily, he raises his hands to her face as if seeing her for the first time.

“Are you okay?”, he asks. His voice is hoarse but urgent. “The orc, is … is he-”.

“He’s dead. It’s over. We’re safe, we’re both safe”. Tears are streaming down her face. “I thought I’d lost you!”.

“I thought so too …” Kili looks at her with utter wonder and bafflement. Then he grimaces and reaches for the wound in his chest. “Ugh, this one hurts, though …”.

“He needs tending to and fast”. Thranduil stands. A tiny droplet of sweat glistens on his brow. Or perhaps it is a snowflake. Are they falling again?

“Tauriel, I would advise you to take him far away from here, and never look back, but …”

He speaks as if Kili was not there.

“What is-”. Kili tries to focus on the tall figure towering over him, but is too stunned, and in too much pain, to fully register what is being said.

Tauriel shakes her head at the elf king.

“He will want to stay with his kin. They have suffered enough loss”.

She thinks of Thorin. The dwarf king is dead.

Thranduil sighs.

“Yes, I anticipate he will want to do that …”

“Tauriel…”. The dwarf winces. She looks back at him. She will never lose him from her sight again.

She brushes locks of soft hair from his forehead.

Does not notice her elf lord leaving. She will never see him again.

“I had a dream that you kissed me”, Kili whispers, his eyes searching hers. “A kiss of love …”.

She smiles through her tears.

“It wasn’t a dream … my love”.

Despite his agony, a smile spreads on his face. A bright, wonderful, boyish smile amidst the hurt and loss. He will face them later.

“…Love”. He grins, actually grins, and tries to sit up, but Tauriel gently puts a hand on his arm to stop him.

“Do not move too much. You are badly wounded. We have to call on the others to come help, and patch you up…”

“Then come down here to me”.

He shakes off a glove. Weaves his fingers through her hair.

She dips her face to his.

He gasps when she recaptures his mouth.

His lips are still soft, but now they move, as well. Melting into hers.

He pulls her closer, his other, gloved hand finding the curve of her waist, and she has to remind herself not to crush his wounded chest.

She wants to drown in his arms.

When their mouths part, they stay nose to nose.

“Never leave”, Kili whispers. His warm breath tickles her skin.

All of him is warmth.

Home.

“I won’t. Never”.

High in the sky above them, eagles cry triumphantly.

She takes his hand. Presses the smooth, oval shape back into his palm.

“It worked, Kili”, she whispers against his lips, before kissing him again.

Deeply, hungrily.

For the third time out of a million more kisses to come over their many, many years together.

“It worked”.

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Thank you for reading!

#my canon #because they deserved better ... #kili x tauriel #the battle of the five armies #the hobbit #thranduil #aidan turner #evangeline lilly #tolkien #tauriel and kili #tauriel x kili #kili and tauriel #tw: blood #kili x tauriel fic #kili #the hobbit the battle of the five armies #tauriel #hobbit fic #kiliel #kili durin