#probably one of my favorite moments in the series so far

[gojonanami]

❝ 𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐓 𝐀𝐅𝐅𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐒 ❞

❝ BEING PROF. GETO'S T.A. IS SO HARD BECAUSE HE'S SO HOT!! ❞

✧ pairing: professor!geto x f!reader (part two of the prof geto series)

✧ summary: you're now professor geto's t.a. for the semester, forced to spend time with the man that you so desperately want, either of you barely able to hold back when you're around the other, so what happens when you're forced to go to a conference with him...and there's only one bed.

✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, a lot of smut (mostly fantasy), depictions of student/teacher relationship (only ok in fiction not irl!!!), reader is a grad student in my mind, but age is vague, so much mutual pining, bed sharing, cuddling, masturbation (f + m), oral (m! receiving), fingering (f! receiving), sex (p in v), semi public sex (sorta), office sex (kinda), amateur's take on moral philosophy and ethics, art by @/nino84391425

✧ wc: 16,821 (apparently i am writing a novel lol) | part one | part three | part four

“On time for once?” Professor Suguru Geto remarks without looking up from his notes on the podium, even as your footsteps echo in the empty lecture hall, “color me surprised,” 

“Couldn’t be late on my first day as a teacher’s assistant, now could I?” and his lips curl in that damnable smile, as he finally glances up from his notes to see you looking far too gorgeous in his button up — one you had oh so generously relieved him of last night, pilfered away in your bag seemingly. 

“But you could be late on your first day as a student?” and you lick your lips, as you draw closer to him, “seems like you’re quite the hypocrite, not very ethical,” 

“Don’t think what we did last night was very ethical either,” you murmur, enjoying the way his dark eyes glaze over for a moment with the thoughts what you both did — the places touched, the moans heard, and the pleasure had — “plus, I definitely have an incentive to be on time now,” your fingers graze his, and why does his touch always feel like coming home. 

“And what’s that, sweetheart?” he murmurs, running the back of his hand against your cheek. 

“Your gorgeous face,” you smile, leaning close as your lips brush, “and some stolen kisses before class,” 

“And what makes you think you’ve earned them, my favorite student?” He teases, as his fingers slide to the back of your neck, and his other hand snakes around your waist, tugging you close. 

“Oh, I have a few ways to earn them, Professor,” your fingers drag down his chest, “but I don’t know if we have the time before class to—“ 

And his lips find yours — needy and bruising, as your fingers clutch at his shirt, the pressed fabric now definitely creased under your touch, “we’ll make time,” he murmurs, as he leans back to drag his thumb down your plush lips, “I still have many things to teach you, and what time is there like the present?” 

He’s leaning down to press a kiss to your lips— 

RING. RING. RING. 

Your eyes snap open, a groan crawls its way out of your throat, as you fumble for your phone to silence the dreaded ringing. You lie back on your bed, a distinct ache between your legs that makes you squirm, and only want to bury yourself back into your bed and possibly the reality that existed within only your dreams. 

But this was sadly reality, and you had about two hours before your first class as a teacher’s assistant for Professor Suguru Geto’s ethics and moral philosophy class. And two hours before you would see Professor Geto for the first time since you had made out. 

You turn over, pressing your face into your pillow. You wondered if you tried hard enough, if you could suffocate yourself before then. 

Probably not. That would be far too lucky. 

~~~

Professor Suguru Geto couldn’t sleep — instead he spent his time staring at his ceiling, the blades of his fans spinning above him, just like his mind was — in circles. It was as if he almost didn’t want to risk his dreams taunting him, it was the same reason he had buried himself in research over the semester break, the same reason he had put off emailing you the materials for the semester, and the same reason he hadn’t seen you since that day you had kissed. 

It was too much of a risk. 

You were risk personified, even for a risk averse theologian he liked to think himself as. But you were the thing of myths, the dangled food for Tantalus, the far too warm sun for Icarus, and the promise of gold for King Midas. But you were not a myth — you were real, his student made of flesh and bone, the same flesh he had pressed into his desk just a few short weeks ago, his legs parting your thighs, his fingers itching to rip your pantyhose off your legs— 

He sighed, this wasn’t helping — his bedside clock blinked back at him mockingly — he only had a few hours before his first class. He should try to sleep even a little. So he did, shutting his eyes, and hoped he wouldn’t dream of you. 

But he couldn’t possibly be that lucky. 

How many times have you stood in front of this office door? Your Professor, to which this office belongs, would joke that it was far too many to count — and you’d be better speculating how many times that Sisyphus rolled the boulder up the same hill. But the last time you had been in it was the thing that made you hesitate now. 

But that was your entire relationship wasn’t it? A game of chicken, wondering who would hesitate first — and neither of you were the type to hold back. Except when it came to this — except when it came to your feelings for the other. 

You shake your head, trying to shake your anxious thoughts free of their eternal bounce around your skull, and grit your teeth before finally knocking. 

“I’m actually right here,” a voice behind you says, making you jump, as you whip around, nearly pressed against his office door. And now you stood face to face with the man who owned it.

And how was it that every time you saw him, he was achingly more perfect than the time before? His ebony hair was half down, black locks brushing against his shoulders, the rest tied up in a neat bun. A crisp white button up underneath a neutral toned knit sweater vest, the shirt very much like the one you had stolen in your dream. 

Perfect. 

“Professor Geto,” you offer a small smile, trying your best to keep your eyes on his, instead of drifting over his form, “it’s good to see you,” 

“It’s good to see you as well, and so prompt,” he says, brushing past you to unlock his office, “made a habit of being on time these days?” 

“Well, when your professor reprimands you in front of the entire class, you try to make a habit of being on time,” why did it feel like your dream was repeating yet again? It’s not as if your relationship with him wasn’t cyclical enough — life imitating dreams was almost far too much. He opens the door for you, letting you enter first, before he follows you in, “and aren’t you the late one this time?” 

His lips quirk, as he rounds his desk, and takes a seat, “You really can’t make it a conversation with me without giving me shit, huh?” 

“Language,” you chide, as you sit across from him, “not very appropriate for an academic setting,” and you have to bite back the want to say that you’ve done plenty of inappropriate things in this office the last time you both were here. 

“Well, our track record isn’t known for being very appropriate, now is it?” Or maybe you didn’t need to say it, because the way he was looking at you told you everything you needed to know. But that didn’t mean either of you would act on it. He licked his lips, mouth parted to say something, his gaze heavy. 

And the moment is broken when his email goes off — you squeeze your bag a little tighter, as you busy yourself with digging through your bag for the materials to go over. That sound was nearly traumatizing in this office, not only did it usually signal the start of some assignment you had to trudge your way through — it also was the sound that had ended your relationship before it even really began. 

“Class starts in an hour, so I thought we could have this meeting just to review the syllabus and see if you have any questions — as well as just overall any questions you had about being a T.A.,” he explains, pressing his pen to his lips, “I understand this is your first time being a T.A.?” 

“It is, I hadn’t really considered it until the department head approached me about that,” and he nods, a flash of emotion that surfaces for only a moment before dissipating, “what will my responsibilities be?” 

“Good question,” a smile pulls the corners of his lips, “obviously, as a T.A., you will have office hours that you can decide with your own discretion—” 

“So it’s okay if I have them once a month at 3:00 AM?” and he rolls his eyes as you bite your lip at the sight — why was everything he did so effortlessly attractive? 

Fucking unfair. 

“Witching hour, how apt,” he murmurs, as he tilts his head, “but they should be weekly, as I’m sure you know, and held not in the middle of the night, when nights should be used for other things,” and you have to bite back your reply, like what? 

And then he continues to explain, “You can also help with some grading — mostly entering grades online for me since you know I love to handgrade,” 

“Oh yes, truly enjoyed having my self-esteem cut to shreds after receiving a paper back,” you scribbled notes down in your notebook, “glad I won’t be on the receiving end this time,” 

“If you’re good, that is,” and you knew it slipped from his lips — from the way his lips parted, the way his body froze for half a second as if he had shocked himself — and he had, because the spark between you two remained, a weed stubbornly cracking through concrete, “sorry—’ 

“You don’t have apologize,” you shake your head, waving him off, “it’s really fine,” 

“It’s not,” he said softly, placing the syllabus down on the desk, “I know we agreed to keep our relationship professional,” 

“We did,” Yes, you both did — sort of. 

“And I want us to do that—” 

And you ask the question you weren’t brave enough to ask the last time you two had seen each other, “Why is that again?” 

When the email had come, it was as if a spell had broken — the rosy colored lenses had come off, only to leave the hard glare of reality behind. Your limbs still entangled while you both reread the email off of his screen — as if it would say something different the millionth time over. 

It didn’t. 

And then the awkward clamor of disengaging, slow limbs pulling apart, as the warmth of his embrace left as quickly as it had come. Silence as the two of you let the news settle in, like a noose tightening around your necks, and you slowly slid off his desk. 

“If I’m your T.A.,” you had said slowly, adjusting the skirt of your dress, “we can’t do this, can we?” and he had only nodded, his gaze unable meet yours, fixed to the rug on the floor of his office, and he could only muster two words as you brushed past him and gathered your things—

“I’m sorry.” 

But even so, you couldn’t remember why it was a bad idea? Why was it so wrong for the two of you to do this? What difference did it make that you were his T.A.? It was still against the rules either way — it was still unethical either way — so why, why did it matter? 

But he knew why, from the way his brow creased with lines and his lips pursed and the way his eyes yet again couldn’t quite reach yours — as if you’d spot something in them that he didn’t want to see. 

“Because we’re going to working together all semester long, with students in class who will see us each week,” he licked his lips, leaning back in his chair, “because it was already problematic if we saw each other without any classes or connection, but now — if you’re my T.A. and my girlfriend, how would I even properly supervise you?” and he swallows, adam’s apple bobbing as he blows air through his teeth, before his voice grows softer, “how would I focus on guiding you and our students if I’m too busy gazing into your eyes or staring at your lips or wanting to—” he cuts himself off, “you know it’s not a good idea,  most of our students probably wouldn’t notice, but rumors spread and it takes one good rumor to ruin your career,” and he adds, “with how things work, you don’t need me to tell you why it would be worse for you than me, even if I tried to take responsibility,” 

And you did know, knew very well that rumors got out that the two of you were together that nothing would happen to his reputation — perhaps he would be scrutinized a bit more, some judgment and side-eye from other professors and higher ups, but he wouldn’t get vilified like you would. Called a slut or a whore — and those would be some of the kinder names you’d be called, and you can’t imagine what it would do for your career, especially if you stay in academia. And then the rumors would fester and grow, more wondering where your grades came from — whether you had obtained them through honeyed words whispered over pillows and rumpled sheets instead through late nights spent at your desk and weekends practically living at the library. 

“I do know,” you said quietly. But it didn’t mean you wanted to do it anymore than you had that day. A part of you wished he had stopped you when you had turned to leave his office, grabbed your wrist, and pulled you into his arms—but this was hardly a romance novel, “and you’re right,” 

He still has his gaze fixed anywhere but your face, settling his syllabus on his desk now, the silence familiarly filling the room yet again, muscles tense if your body didn’t know whether to flee or to draw closer. 

So you did neither, and instead broke the silence. 

“So would T.A.-ing provide an opportunity for me to teach the class?” and he blinks, eyes snapping up now, as a glimpse of sadness slips away behind his now thoughtful expression. 

“Would you want to do that? I don’t know if I could allow you to lead an entire class, only because some students may take some issue with another grad student teaching them—” 

“I don’t blame them with the tuition costs,” you mutter, and he nods, “don’t nod, it’s your salary I’m paying for,” 

He laughs, a noise you wished you could bottle because you knew it’d be the same as bottling happiness, ���Well worth your money after how much your writing and understanding of moral philosophy and ethics has improved,” and you roll your eyes. 

“I see your ego is the same as ever,” and his lips curl, as he crosses his legs, and you fight the cruel temptation of your gaze flickering a little downward. 

“Well, Kant did say an ego is necessary to understand the world meaningfully and therefore act in a moral way,”  you tilt your head, being defensive with philosophy? That was a new one. 

But you weren’t one to let things go — as he very well knew. 

“And he also said that an ego can lead you astray from living a moral life if we become too self absorbed,” and he raises an eyebrow. 

“Are you calling me self absorbed?” 

You bite back a laugh, “Well, you are certainly self interested,” and you gesture around his office, “look at this office,” 

“What about my office?” he gapes at you, and you snort, you’ve seemingly struck a nerve by how wide his jaw dropped. 

“It’s a little…pretentious,” and dare you say it, your professor had a touch of pink painted across his cheekbones and the tips of his ears, 

God he’s even pretty when he blushes. 

“I’m just teasing Professor,” and then you add, “it’s one of my more tedious qualities,” 

And he blinks, before his lips curl in the smile you never tired of seeing, “not tedious, more irritating,” 

You chuckle, before trying to get back on topic, “So you think you could work out me teaching a part of the class?” 

And he nods, “Let me discuss it with the department head — it should be fine,”

“Do I have any other responsibilities?” 

“If it doesn’t conflict with your schedule, you can also attend some classes, students can stay after and ask you questions as well,” and you nod, looking over his class times in the syllabus. 

“I can make the Tuesday one,” and he makes a note, as you rise, “we should go. Don’t want to be late for the first class now do we?” 

And he smiles the same damnable smile, “That would be a terrible first impression,” and his shoulder brushes yours as he opens his office door for you, “after you,” 

God, you thought as you stepped past him, the warmth from the brush of his body still there, this was going to be a long semester. 

If there was one thing you had learned from being a teacher’s assistant for Professor Geto’s class, it was that the students were even more desperate for your professor’s attention than you had thought. You thought your introduction had went relatively well — besides the pointed glares of several….enthusiastic students. 

After his detailed overview of the class, he reaches the resources section of the course syllabus, “Now, I am available at my listed office hours, in which you can make an appointment online. There’s also tutoring services through the university listed as well. And lastly, we have a T.A. for this class, for the very first time,” and he smiles, “Class, please meet your T.A. for this semester,” Professor Geto says your name and gestures to you, sat up in the corner of the lecture hall, and you stand, waving, “your T.A. took this very class last semester and showed great grit and dedication in the class assignments,” you have to stop yourself from shooting him a look, but you can see a hint of a smile on his lips, “She is also a philosophy student, so please, feel free to reach out to her,” 

“Thank you Professor Geto for that…generous introduction,” your pause was slight enough that he caught it, a smile tucked behind an all too fake cough, “I really look forward to working with you all — this class truly had a great impact on my perspective about the world,” and you catch a flicker of an emotion ripple across his face out of the corner of your eye, “my office hours will be posted soon, and I hope we can get to know each other well over the course of this semester.” 

You sit as the students cast their gaze forward again, and the class continues on as usual. You make use of your time by reading for some of your other classes, until class was over. 

And that’s when you really learned something. As requested, you joined Professor Geto at the bottom of the lecture hall to help field questions from the students. 

Except, the students were far more interested in Professor Geto than they were in the course material. 

But maybe it was simply because it was the beginning of the semester right? It couldn’t happen again right? 

It was a good thing you weren’t getting graded because you would earned yourself a zero. As again, the next week, students were only interested in Professor Geto — whether it was because it was for his intellect or — you glanced at the students mooning over him — something else. 

Something you knew very well. 

You were forced to watch a female student flutter her eyelashes, then another brush against him, as she showed him what passage was confusing her, and then another student couldn’t stop staring at his lips. And then you wonder, if it had been another student who kept pestering him week after week, would it have been them instead of you? Would they have shared those moments together? Maybe even they would actually gotten to be in a relationship, instead of watching other people flirt with him—

“Excuse me,” your eyes snap up from your reverie and you see two students, seemingly waiting to speak to you. 

Those students had seemingly taken pity on you and spoke to you about the class, tips, and asked about your office hours. But soon enough, the students filed out one by one until it was just you and Professor Geto. And he’s collecting his things, as he glances at you, lingering still as you check your email on your phone, “Don’t you have class after this?” 

You blink, “how’d you know that?” 

And he’s straightening his notes to place back in his bag, before he turns to look at you over his shoulder, “well you’d always rush off after class so it was either you had class or you didn’t want to be alone with me,” he looks back to his bag and you hear the click of the zipper, “I was hoping it would be the former,” he adds. 

“Well, I never lingered after class when I was taking it either,” you adjust your bag, toying with the strap — why was it anytime you were with him it felt like stepping into quicksand, the more you struggled, the more you sunk — and even if you didn’t move at all, you were still stuck all the same, “didn’t want to get in the way your students stroking your ego,” 

And he raises an eyebrow, “Are we back to my ego again?” 

“I don’t see you shying away from smiles and praise from your students,” and his brow knits together, as he places his bag down on the podium, “no wonder your ego is so large,” 

“What students?” 

“Oh please, the ones swarming your desk after clsss. Didn’t you ever wonder why so many students from different disciplines take your class?” he opens his mouth and then you add, “and don’t say philosophy and ethics apply to every aspect of life,” 

And then he seems to consider the thought, as before his lips curl, as he leans against the podium. 

“Am I detecting some jealousy?” he smirks, and you pause before you scoff — far too quickly. 

“No,” and he only smiles wider. 

He chuckles, “That was convincing. I’m glad your ability to teach is much better than your ability to lie,” 

“I’m not—“ 

“Jealous or not,” and you have to bite back your retort, his gaze freezing you in place, a softness you hated to see — because you didnt know whether it made you want to push him away or pull him close, “there’s only ever been one student who caught my eyes,” 

Ah, there is was — you were sinking again. 

“Really?” you mumble, crossing your arms, “not even one other? You have a habit of unethical behavior for an ethics professor,” 

He’s grabbing his bag, before he’s taking a step forward to whisper, “Only when it comes to you,” and you have to force yourself not shiver at his words warming your skin, “I’ll see you next week,” 

And he’s gone — as you stand in the empty lecture hall next to the podium, the very one from your first dream— and you’re right back where you started. 

Professor Suguru Geto wasn’t the type to make mistakes. He was always meticulous and methodical — he used the very principles to help guide his life — because it gave him a moral framework, a way to interpret the world and his own actions. That’s what had drawn him to ethics in the first place. But then he met you. 

And it seems like he’s made nothing but mistakes since. 

He sat in his office after he practically fled the classroom, forcing his pace to be normal, hoping you didn’t see the flush on his face. Fuck, he tossed the pen he had picked up to start grading away, what was he doing? 

He had told himself it was for the best — again and again when he watches you leave at the end of the last semester. He held his muscles taut as he watched you gather your things, stepping over the crushed pieces of both of your hearts. The two words he had barely choked were the only ones he could manage before he watched his office door shut behind you. 

It was for the best. It was for the best. It was for the best. 

That sentence was on repeat in his mind as he tried to work on his paper over the break — “try” being the operative word. It felt as if even his work hadn't been untouched by you — your impact widespread and all consuming — just as your actual touch was. 

Fuck, he rakes his fingers through his hair, how was he going to survive this week much less this semester? 

He couldn’t afford to be selfish — for your sake and his own. But it didn’t mean he didn’t want to be. He runs a hand over his face — he all but blatantly admitted that he had feelings for you after class. After promising to keep things professional — he was the worst. 

He only wished he was worse enough to do what you both wanted when you asked him in his office why you both couldn’t be together. He wanted to tell you the reasons why you should be — because he couldn’t stop thinking about you despite never seeing you over the break, his heart nearly stopped when he saw you standing in front of his office, and because he couldn’t help but smile when he could see you hesitating in front of the door — but he couldn’t help but smile when it came to you. But he didn’t. 

He couldn’t. 

But he also couldn’t help but toe that damn line in the sand, the one that he had drawn, but the one so desperately wanted to cross. 

And then there was a knock at his door, he sighs, “Come in,” 

The department head enters his office, as Suguru blinks before he gets to his feet to offer his hand, as they exchange greetings, before gesturing for him to sit, “To what do I owe the pleasure?” 

“I saw your email about having your T.A. teach part of your class, and I wanted to get a little more detail about it,” Suguru nods, his face composed, but his body tense — paranoia scratching at the back of his mind, no one happened to see them kiss had they? No one was on campus really at that point. And the door was closed — he probably just wanted more information.  

“What questions did you have?” and the department head runs down his list — what topic would you cover? How much class time would it take? Would he be asking the class first? Would he review your materials beforehand? 

“Well, you both seemed to have thought a lot about this,” he leans back, crossing his leg over the other, “I think having her teach a part of a class is fine, but I would like you both to do it sooner rather than later,” and Suguru opens his mouth, but then he adds, “and I’d like to attend that class,” 

Suguru tilts his head, “You would like to attend my class?” He considers his words carefully, “I was under the impression, based on the rules, the only thing needed to allow a T.A. to teach was the approval of the department head,” his anxiety begins to pick away at his nerves, “it’s not unusual for a T.A. to teach here correct?” 

It was his first time having a teacher’s assistant at this university so perhaps this was a quality check? To ensure both you and him were meeting the standards of the university — and his anxiety added, and to make sure no rules were being broken by either of you. 

“Yes, it’s not unusual, and I have my reasons which I’ll discuss with you after the class,” he checks the time and rises from his seat now, “I have another meeting soon — do you think she can present in two weeks?” 

Suguru hesitates, “I’ll have to ask her but most likely that should be fine,” 

“Okay please send an email cc’ing her and confirm the details,” he says his goodbyes, and he’s gone, as Suguru sits and considers this — what could he be planning? 

Or, his nerves add, what could he be looking for? 

Either way, he pulled up your email — it was going to be an interesting two weeks. 

“Deontology determines whether an action is right or wrong based on a set of rules and principles instead of the consequences of the actions,” you speak to an empty lecture hall, your voice echoing in the silence, “therefore an act that isn’t morally good can lead to a good outcome,” 

You had come into the lecture hall to practice yet again this week. You were cursing your past self for inflicting this optional task on yourself — it had taken far more time than you had expected (what’s new?), taken far more preparation than you thought (again, of course), and now had the fun added pressure of the department head attending. And why was he attending? A wonderful and complete mystery. 

The last two weeks have been amazing for your mental health, truly. 

You were lucky the lecture hall and the building at large was deserted at 8:00 PM — all of the staff and students had all but fled, and you were left with the perfect place to practice. It had been many nights of honing your presentation to the allotted time, leaving time to pose a thought exercise, time to discuss, and for questions. 

You don’t see the door behind you open, nor do you hear it close, as you use the clicker to go through your PowerPoint, switching to the next slide. 

“For example, killing an intruder, based on the consequence would be wrong, as I hope we all know killing is wrong — otherwise, I worry about what will happen when you get your grades back,” you give a brief chuckle — and hope some of the students would pity you with some laughs, and that’s when you hear a small laugh behind you. 

Your head snaps around, flushing when you see Professor Geto standing by the door. He’s wearing a deep royal purple button up and gray slacks, the sleeves rolled up exposing his forearms. 

God, this wasn’t a dream was it? 

“Don’t let me stop you,” he says, his footsteps against the floor grew closer, and your body tenses, until they stop, “go on,” and he leans against the wall behind you. 

“But when you do kill an intruder to protect your family, that’s viewed as right under deontology,” and you can’t focus with his gaze running over you, an all familiar feeling settled over you. Would life imitate dreams again? Would he come over and ask you to continue your presentation as his lips pressed gentle kisses to your neck and shoulder? Would he— 

“Are you okay?” he asks, and you can’t meet his gaze, but you hear his footsteps, “should I go?” 

“No, no, it’s just,” you shake your head, “a little deja vu,” 

He raises an eyebrow, “deja vu?” 

Your blood runs cold. Fuck. 

“I don’t recall you ever presenting like this in my clsss before,” you can't decide if his voice is more thick with confusion or curiosity. 

“Yeah, no, sorry it’s nothing,” you brush him off, your eyes fixed on your notes on the podium, and you know he’s still staring, “what?” 

“I see you’re still not a very good liar,” and you scoff, “what is it that’s gotten you so bothered?” 

“Nothing,” you insist. 

“The more you say that, the less I’m convinced,” and now he’s walking closer, closer still — but you’re fixed in place, “what is it?”

“You never let anything go, do you?” And you turn, your breath catching when you saw how close he was — inches from you, his pretty eyes wide at the sudden movement, his breath warming your lips. Black strands fall in his face, and you have to stop yourself from tucking them behind his ear. Stop yourself from wanting to touch him, stop yourself from wanting him to lean forward, stop yourself from wanting him. 

Nothing good ever came from your want. 

“Only when it’s you,” but this man makes it impossible not to want him. Not when his voice is soft, not when the back of his finger, a knuckle brushes against your cheek. And no words are needed — you can hear it in the silence between you both, you feel it in the gentleness of his touch, and in the softness of his gaze. 

And you know you’re in love with him. You are.

But you can’t be. 

“I’m not telling you,” you murmur, looking away — and it seems to break the spell, as he steps back, nodding, a flicker of sadness that slips away under his facade,  “but maybe I will sometime, over a drink,” you add. 

A smile tugs at his lips, “Well we know how well that went, or didn’t go rather, and you know, we can’t anytime soon,” 

“Well sometimes an action that isn’t morally good can lead to a good outcome,” and he raises an eyebrow. 

“Using deontology to convince me?” He tilts his head, “not a bad strategy — maybe I’ll have you write a paper,” 

“And willingly subject myself to your red pen? No thanks,” and he snorts, before the smile fades into a frown, brow wrinkled in thought, “what is it?” 

“Nothing, I’m just…” he crossss his arms, “I’m wondering why the department head wants to observe your presentation,” 

“He didn’t give any indication why?” and he shakes his head, “maybe he just wants to evaluate how good a job you’re doing,” you add, “you are relatively green,” 

“Not that green,” and you see his lips pressed together — and is he? — he was — he was pouting. You bite your lip how fucking adorable — but you know you’d be met with a scowl if you said that out loud, “don’t you worry that the dean may suspect something between us?” 

The thought had crossed your mind, but class had been nothing but professional so far, and you’d be too busy sweating bullets (and perhaps dodging them from the students if the presentation went poorly) to even consider your feelings for him. 

You sigh, “Look, nothing to do but get through it, right? It should be fine, we’ll deal with whatever comes after. As long as I don’t choke, and you don’t stare at me too adoringly, we should be fine,” 

And you expect a retort, a cheeky reply, or even a quite sarcastic one, but he only gives a small smile, “Right,”

You feel your cheeks burn and you can’t meet his gaze again without feeling your heart flutter. 

Fuck — maybe there was something to worry about. 

Despite the concerns, the presentation goes off without a hitch. You spot the dean sitting in the corner of the lecture hall, pen and notepad in hand, which did nothing to soothe your poor heart (nor did the far too many cups of coffee and the total lack of sleep). 

It happened quick — a blur of speaking, forcing yourself to slow your words down, a necessity when presenting — as you knew you always spoke faster than you believed you did when presenting. You think you even made the students laugh a few times, led an interesting thought experiment with a rousing debate that ended with no clear answer (as always), and then you answered questions. 

All the while, Professor Geto stood in the back, and you’d catch a glimpse of him by the corner of your eye, his lips curled in that smile that haunted all your nights and days. 

By the time it was done, you had barely realized time had gone so quickly, as you passed the metaphorical baton back to Geto. And you took a seat off to the side, opting to watch him lecture, rather than busy yourself with other work. 

It felt like old times, you thought, as you watched him speak. You couldn’t blame the people that took his class just to watch him speak — he was unfairly beautiful when he spoke, gesticulating as he read a Kant quote. And you kept your face as neutral as possible, but he catches your eye for a moment, corner of his lip twitching upwards. And a flush settles over your cheeks, as you discreetly press your thighs together, trying to look suddenly engrossed with your notebook. 

Your heart ached as much as your body did. You wanted to walk over and just kiss him, swallow his smart words along with his gasp, and feel those hands run along your body. You wanted to know every thought in his head, every part of his day, and fall asleep beside him. 

You glance up to see him still speaking — a black strand falling in his face. You bite your lip, before looking back down. 

This man would be the death of you — and it was even worse being alone with him. You’re thankful that your T.A. check-ins with him were every other week, because you couldn’t imagine having to spend more than an hour with him every other week. 

“You want us to do what?” You blink at the Dean, his lips curled in a smile, his hands tucked into his pockets. 

“Apologies for all the secrecy, I did not receive confirmation about this until earlier today,” he explains, “but I want you two to attend this conference on ethics and philosophy  — it’s over the weekend, two weekends from now. It would be a wonderful opportunity for the both of you to make connections and attend presentations, as well as mingle with prospective students. It would also afford us an opportunity for both of you to help put our university on the map,” 

You glance at Professor Geto, his lips parted in surprise, “Sir, is it appropriate for a male professor and a—“ 

“Don’t worry, the accommodations will be separate and it’s a public event, as long as everything remains professional, there’s no problem, right? As long as you two are okay with it and there’s no problem,” he glances between the two of you, “is there a problem?” 

And Professor Geto’s eyebrows knit together. It was a lose-lose situation — saying no meant raising some suspicions that there was an issue between the two of you, but saying yes meant going on a trip with the same professor you had kissed at the end of the last semester. And if anything happened on this trip...it could be very bad — ethically and otherwise. 

So you make the decision for both of you. 

“That’s fine. I’m happy to attend if Professor Geto is,” and you know you have no choice — you had to spend the weekend with him, alone. At a conference. In a hotel.

“Do you have everything?” Professor Geto asks, as you hand him your suitcase, your fingers brushing as you do.  He lifts your suitcase into the trunk of his car, his black t-shirt riding up as he does, a quick flash of the expanse of his muscles—

Fuck, you bite your lip, stop, stop. Professor. He’s a professor. 

It didn’t matter that you had felt him part your thighs, as his lips slid against yours, nor that every time you saw each other, you felt this undeniable ache to touch him, comfort him, hug him, nor that you knew he felt the same and wanted to give in as badly as you did—

No, it didn’t matter. 

You consider his question, scrunching up your face in thought, “I think so, wait,” you snap your fingers as he glances at you, “forgot the rest of my apartment upstairs — you think that’ll fit in there too?” 

He smirks, rolling his eyes as shuts the trunk, “Ha, ha, ever consider becoming a comedian instead of a philosophy major?”

“Every day, but then I think what would my favorite professor do without me?” 

He raises an eyebrow, “I’m your favorite?” 

“Who said it was you?” you grin at him, as he shakes his head and you open the passenger door seat and slide in, as he slips into the driver’s seat. He adjusts his mirrors, buckling his seatbelt, as a sudden wave of guilt bombards you. You had dragged him down this rabbit hole with you — and now the two of you had to spend the entire weekend together, alone. 

You lick your far too dry lips, “Sorry if I roped you into this,” you fidget with your phone, tapping on the screen absentmindedly. 

He starts the car, engine roaring underneath your feet, before he glances at you, brow furrowed in seeming confusion, “What? It’s not you that roped us into this,” 

You purse your lips, “But if I didn’t agree to it—“ 

He sighs, “We were in a position where we didn’t have much of a choice,” his fingers drum against the steering wheel, as his eyes flicker to make sure your seatbelt was on, “it’s not your fault — and it’s not a bad thing — we’ll spend time at the conference, we’ll mingle, and then return to our hotel rooms,” he adds, “don’t worry. Nothing will happen.” 

And his reassurance is almost a punch to the gut instead — and your brain chides you for being so childish — you knew it was for the best, you knew it was the right thing to do, and you knew he was trying what was best for you, and for him. 

But why did it hurt so goddamn much? 

You steal a glance at him as he pulls into the street and begins to drive, dark gaze forward, his hair tied into its usual neat bun, and a chain poked out from underneath the rounded opening around his neck. And then your eyes flicker back out the window.  

Was it really not a big deal to him? 

Because the last two weeks were consumed with nothing, but thoughts of being alone with him. Days spent in conferences, sitting beside each other, whispering thoughts and inside jokes; evenings spent socializing together, waiting for the other to give the signal to leave; and nights walking back to your rooms, fingers brushing as you walked beside each other. You were sure it would take a slight bend of the rules, a gaze that lingers a little too long, to break the paper thin resistance either of you had to the other. The two of you could barely be alone for more than a few minutes without temptation rearing its ugly head — even now your eyes can’t help but trace the curve of his jaw, the way the sunlight catches his eyes, the way your fingers want nothing more than intertwine with his hand that rests on the console between you two. 

But you don’t. You give a weak smile, glancing out the window as the streets of Tokyo pass you by — “Yeah it should be fine.” 

Just fine. 

“There was a problem with your reservation,” 

And after half an hour of waiting off to the side, with your luggage stacked up and irritation creeping its way to a new high as you watched others easily being checked in to the hotel, you assumed there was a problem. If there wasn’t a problem, you would wonder if this was a new take on Waiting for Godot that would end with the both of youu sleeping in the lobby. You rubbed at your temples, as Geto dealt with the hotel staff, his arms crossed, lips a tight line, “the hotel double booked one of your rooms, so we only have one room available for you.”  

You barely heard the rest of the argument your professor had with the hotel staff, the same phrase ringing in your ears — one room, one room, one room. With nothing more to argue about, they finally escorted you both to your room in awkward silence. And as they opened the door, you spotted it — there was only one single queen sized bed. 

One. Bed. 

You felt your cheeks flush, as you couldn’t even meet Geto’s eyes, as he began to speak heatedly with the manager again. And the excuses began, as the manager wrung his hands, about how no other rooms being available due to the conference and another event happening in town. 

“There is a couch though,” he offers,  pointing to a far too small couch, and the sharp glare that Geto gave him would put even his red pen to shame, “we will see about comping half—“ Geto crosses his arms, “all of your stay here,” and with that, he’s gone. 

“So,” you sigh, glancing at Geto, with a strained smile, “I have dibs on the bed?” 

Was this a cosmic joke? You wondered as you turned off the water of the shower, squeezing your eyes shut. Was this a version of ethical karma for what you had done last semester? An ultimate ethical test that you would surely fail? A fucking prank show? 

You didn’t know. You dried off and got dressed, pulling on a t-shirt and shorts, your hair still damp, as you took a breath and stepped out, towel slung over your shoulders. 

Geto was still on the phone, pacing back and forth — he was trying to call other hotels to see if there was anywhere else with two rooms or at least a room with two beds.

“Yes I understand it’s very last minute—“ he sighs for what must have been the billionth time today, “yes, there was a mistake at the hotel I’m staying at—yes, ok, well, thank you,” he hangs up, setting his phone down. 

“No luck?” You sit on the edge of the bed, wiping your hair, and he shakes his head. 

“The one thing they were right about is that every hotel room is booked solid — not only is our conference in town, but there’s a physical science consortium happening as well,” he rakes his fingers through his hair, a few strands coming loose, “I’ll have to give the Dean a call to update him on the situation,” 

You nod, “So what should we do about sleeping?” And he can’t quite meet your gaze, “are there no trundle or rollaway beds?” 

“No, apparently those have all been spoken for,” he grumbles, and he prepares to call the dean, “I’ll take the couch, you can have the bed—“ 

“Professor, we can—“ and his gaze snaps to you, “we can share—“ 

“No, we can’t,” he says softly, “you know we can’t do that,” 

“We’re both adults—“ 

“And we’re still a professor and a student,” he draws the line between you two again, the gash even deeper than before, the gap that’s meant to keep you safe — the chase meant to protect you — so why did it feel more like a punishment? “I’ll take the couch,” and he calls the Dean to update him on the situation. 

You busy yourself with drying your hair in the bathroom, before coming back out to see him hanging up the phone. 

“Well, are we in an ethical bind or should I go sleep in the lobby just to show there’s no funny business?” And he shoots you a look, “there have been stranger bedfellows,” and he opens his mouth, “and a single word comes out of your mouth, and I’ll join you on that couch,” 

And a very pretty flush adorns the tips of his ears and cheeks, “He said it was fine, it was out of our control, but to just document everything, including the hotel’s incompetence for legality reasons,” 

“You’re also a lawyer as well as a professor?” 

“You have to hedge your bets,” he shrugs with a smile pulling at his lips, before he checks the time, “I’m going to take a shower,” he sighs, pulling his hair from the messy bun, letting his black locks down. And you watch him run his fingers through his hair again, sighing, as he heads into the shower. 

You lay on the bed, biting your lip — as you turn over to use your phone, as the shower turns on. And you glance at the closed door — the thought of him in there, pulling his shirt over his head, shedding his pants and boxers. Your cheeks burn, burying your face in your pillow as if that would help (it did not). 

You curl up on the bed, turning away from the bathroom door, using your phone. And a few minutes pass, as you kind of drift off into sleep, and you hear a creak of the bathroom door open that rouses you from sleep. You don’t move at first but you hear shuffling, the sounds of a zipper. You finally turn on your other side, eyes fluttering open, and you’re met with the sight of bare skin. 

You blink, eyes flickering up to see your Professor’s flushed face, before your eyes slowly following a bead of water slip down his bare chest, black hair dotting along the middle of his chest and abs, down to a happy trail that was hidden by a towel wrapped around his waist. His clothes in his hand, and your eyes find his own, your lips parted and mouth impossibly dry. 

Oh. My. God. 

“Uh—“ and his cheeks flare red, as you try your best not to let your eyes flicker downward, “I forgot my clothes—“ and you turn away, as he darts back into the bathroom, “I’m sorry,” he says, muffled through the door. 

“It’s okay!” You reply, your heart thumping against your ribcage, squeezing your eyes shut to only be met the memory of his bare torso, “fuck,” you mumble under your breath, as you turn onto your back, and stare at the spinning ceiling fan above you. A distinct ache below at the thought of him. 

Your eyes flickered to the shut bathroom door. You hear the sound of water running again — maybe he needed to wash up again. Either way, you slid under the comforter, hand slipping into your shorts, you had some time. You wish you could have grabbed his hand before he fled into the bathroom, sat up on your knees, fingers sliding to his cheek. 

“Kiss me,” you’d murmur, and he would, leaning down to press a kiss to your lips sweetly, as your fingers glide up his bare chest. You’d swallow his gasp with delight, as your other hand finds his wet locks, fingers tangling in his black locks, “please,” you would guide his fingers to the hem of your shirt and he would oblige, lifting up and over your head. And your fingers would tug his towel away, letting it fall to the ground. 

Your fingers press against the wet patch on your underwear, teeth digging into your bottom lip as you gasp, imagining it was instead his eager fingers that tugged your shorts down. You sunk one finger in and then another, pumping slowly, and you knew he would get you ready for him. He would fuck you with his thick fingers, as his mouth latched to your clit, sucking gently as he fucked you open. You moaned his name softly, as you imagine his fingers stretching you open. 

“Do you want me, my pretty girl?” He would murmur between your thighs, lips glossy with your release, “s’good for me, taste as good as you look,” and he would press your back gently into the mattress as he would meet your lips again before, rubbing the tip of his cock against your puffy lips, “tell me what you want, Princess,” 

“Please,” you whispered, as you moved your fingers faster, adding a third finger, but you know his cock would feel so much thicker, and reach so much deeper, “fuck me,” 

And he would, sinking into you, his pretty cock parting your folds, his quiet grunts and moans whispering in your ear, as he works himself inside to the hilt. His lips would find yours as he would rock his hips into you — your cunt would flutter around his length. He would press your thighs apart further, long fingers digging into your soft flesh, the wet squelch of your cunt and the sounds of his skin slapping against yours would ring in your ears.

“S’close, Sugu—fuck,” you would keen against him, instead of your fingers, “please,” and his thumb would find your clit, just as yours did, and you would cum all over his cock, squeezing around his length, as he sinks even deeper, until his tip is brushing against your cunt. The moan of his name slips out, as you press your forearm against your mouth to barely stifle it. 

Fuck, you come down from your high, panting. And you glance at the bathroom door, thinking you’ll clean up once he gets out. You roll over in bed, as you pulled the pillow over your face. 

This was going to be a long weekend. 

Suguru lingers in the bathroom for far too long after that, the embarrassment of the moment still far too fresh in his mind, his cheeks still a dusty pink at the thought. Not only was it bad enough that he was trapped in this hotel room with you for an entire weekend, but now he had paraded out practically half naked for you to see. 

Fuck his life. 

He had hurried into the shower if only to get a break from being in the same room as you. It had been hard enough to endure the last few weeks as a T.A., but now he had to spend an entire weekend sharing a hotel room — and deal with situations like that one all weekend. Seeing you emerge from the bathroom, only in a t-shirt and shorts, still damp from your shower — wet hair in messy tangles that he wanted to run his fingers through— and that’s why he excused himself to the bathroom. A reprieve if only for a moment. If he had only remembered to bring his clothes into the shower — he wouldn’t have had to finish his shower, with only his discarded clothes to wear that had slipped off the clothes rack and onto the damp floor. 

He had stepped out, towel around his waist, as he peeled out, only to see your back to him, the sounds of soft breathing told him you were asleep. And he crept out, silently cursing as the door creaked and rifled through his suitcase for clothes. He had found them, and gone to retreat back when you roused and turned all at once. 

God, he sighed, it was such a mess. 

But the way you looked at him…lips parted, gaze flicking across his body, the way your eyes lingered a little too long on his torso — and now he had an entirely different problem. 

His cock tented against the towel, as his eyes slid to the bathroom door. What if he just hopped into the shower for a second again? The towel dropped to the floor, as he steps back into the shower, turning on the water. 

He groans, his fingers slide over his mortifyingly hard erection, teasing his slit as he would imagine you would, as you would open the bathroom door, murmuring his name, “Professor? Are you okay?” And you wouldn’t wait for his answer as you stepped into the shower with him, eyes raking down his body, a teasing grin on your lips, “not very ethical is that?” And your fingers would curl their way around the base of his cock, making him shudder with pleasure, “I can take care of that,” and you would kiss down his chest and stomach, even despite his protests, until you reached where he wanted your touch most. 

And god, you would look so pretty on your knees for him, as your fingers pumped him far too slowly, teasing him with a chaste kiss to his tip, tongue dragging against his slit, better than how his thumb did, “s’good for me, Professor,” you’d say, when you heard the hiss he just let out, “I wonder what other sounds you could make for me,” and your lips would close around his tip, sucking lightly, as he gasped, his other hand clasped over his mouth, muffling his sounds. 

He would look down with half lidded eyes, and see your head bobbing as you took him so well, your fingers toying with his balls, spotting your eyes flicking up to meet his — glazed over and desperate, just he imagined his were. Your mouth would feel so much better than his hand, the wet squelch of his pumping would not compare to you swallowing around him, sucking and licking around his length, his pre-cum and your drool slipping down the corner of your mouth. 

You’d swallow around him, as his fingers would slide into your hair. And maybe you would let him fuck your mouth, hips rolling slowly as you adjust, before he slowly would thrust faster. He would repay the favor tenfold once you were done, burying himself in your sweet cunt, until you were begging him to stop. His fingers moved faster around his cock, his low groans and wet squelch bouncing off the bathroom walls, hopefully drowned out by the running water.  Fuck, he wished he would feel how it would to have his tip brush against the back of your throat. 

He was close, the twitch of his dick in his hand told him so, and he imagined what it would be like to cum in your mouth, watching you swallow his release, if you’d want to, or cumming all over your face or chest, letting his cock drag over your tongue as he pulled out. 

Fuck, he shudders, moaning your name against his fingers, he cums all over his hand and the wall of the shower, his release running down mixing with the water. He rinsed his hand off, leaning his head under the water again, hoping it would wash away any traces of you. 

It didn’t. 

And as he emerged from the shower, making sure any trace of his act had slipped down the drain, but the towel around his neck, wondering if you’d see what he did on his face. But you wouldn’t — because you were fast asleep. 

His lips curled as he watched you sleep for a moment, your lips parted, curled up facing away from the bathroom — your feet sticking out of your blanket. He adjusts the blanket for you, and you shift a little in your sleep, mumbling something under your breath, before settling back in. 

And he bites his lip before turning away — he would never be clean, would he? 

Not when it was you. 

“How much longer do you think we’ll be stuck here?” you murmur, the smile plastered on your lips nearly starting to chip and crack. 

Professor Geto sipped at his drink hiding his frown, long fingers cradling the wine glass far too perfectly, “at least another hour,” he sighs, “when in academia, one must get used to mindless conversing if only it will lead to another needless connection,”

And this day had been nothing but an exercise of that — lectures, panels, presentations — any other word that meant someone or several someones sitting in front of you, talking at you — with only maybe 30% of the people actually listening (if you were lucky or interesting). And now you were one hour deep into a mixer that had you engaging in dry chit-chat that had your mind going numb by the first ten minutes. Your only reprieve being by Geto’s side. 

You hated how he could make the dullest of things enjoyable for you, or rather—

You hated how much you loved it 

“How pithy — Plato?” And he snorts, as you finish off your own drink, “I’m going to get a refill, do you want anything?” He shakes his head, and you head off to the bar. 

You were so restless after sitting for so long. Not to mention the slight rash you got from not washing up soon enough. You woke an hour and half later and cleaned yourself up — luckily Geto had passed out by then. You saw him sleeping half scrunched up, half sprawled out on the couch — one of his legs were hanging off the couch — and even his blanket had slipped off. You stifled a small laugh, taking a quick picture of him — so stubborn that he wouldn’t sleep on the bed with you. Your gaze had softened, as you picked up the discarded blanket and placed it over him softly, your fingers gently tucking some of his hair from his face. You fell asleep again after heading back to bed, and woke up refreshed — while Geto had woken up with a very sore back and neck. 

“Can I get…” you look at the menu, ordering your favorite drink, standing by the bar as you adjust your dress, you had opted for a black dress with sheer tights — one you had worn a suit jacket over it. You tap against the bar top, checking your phone as you do. 

“Can I get what she’s getting?” A dark haired man sidles up beside you, his mouth curled in a smirk drawing attention to a scar in the corner of his mouth, and his voice drops to a whisper, “though I think I’d enjoy you more than the drink,” 

You raise your eyebrows, “and I think you’ve certainly had enough tonight,” you say under your breath, giving an awkward chuckle, but he doesn’t seem to notice as the bartender comes back with your drink. Your eyes flicker over the crowd as you search for Geto but you can’t find him. 

“What’s your name, pretty?” And your skin crawls as his dark gaze slides over your body, “mine’s Toji,” and you bite back a sigh, introducing yourself, “it’s very nice to meet you — I’ve met a lot of people tonight but you definitely have been the most interesting,” and the bartender comes back with his drink. 

“Then you must have not met a lot of interesting people so far,” you say, eager to look for any out to escape this conversation, “my friend is waiting—“ 

“No, I’d say that you’re just that interesting,” he sips his drink, “can I get you another drink?” 

And right when you’re about to respond, “No, I don’t think she’s interested,” And you tense a moment before you register the familiar voice, Geto smiles at Toji, if you could call that a smile — it reminded you of one a predator gave its new prey, “especially because she’s a student, and you’re most assuredly not,” 

Toji raises an eyebrow, “But she is an adult, she can speak for herself, so why don’t you let her, Professor?” 

“Because—“ his fingers twitch as if he wants to reach for you but he can’t. 

You swallow the lump in your throat. And you know why he can’t. 

Geto’s smile wavers, and you intercede, “I can, and I think I’ve had enough for tonight,” you pay your tab, “let’s go back to the hotel, Professor,” 

And Toji pulls his card out, handing it to you, “If you change your mind,” he raises his glass, leaning against the bar, before he leans closer to you, whispering, “if you ever get sick of him, call me,” 

You give a polite smile, tugging Geto away until you reached the outside of the building, silence filled the space between you two, until you found your way outside. 

“What did he say?” He asks as he calls a car back to take you both to the hotel, and you don’t know how to answer that — not without making it worse, “actually, never mind. I shouldn’t have asked,” 

“Professor—“ 

“You’re an adult, he’s right — you should be allowed to make your own choices,” he licks his lips, his eyes still fixed on his phone screen, “I’m sorry if I—“ 

“Can you let me speak?” you sigh, as you wave your hand in front of his phone so he would look at you, and his eyes meet yours, “you’re fine — I was trying to get out of there — I just felt very trapped.” 

He huffs out a chuckle. “When you took that long, I wondered if the group of solipsists had taken you hostage,” 

You grimace, “I guess when you believe everyone else is an illusion, you also think manners are an illusion too,” he laughs in earnest now, “now there’s a real smile,” He tilts his head, “the smile you had inside, real scary kind of smile,” you tease, as his eyes can’t quite meet yours.

“Oh yeah?” he suddenly seems very interested in his phone, “our rideshare is almost here,” 

“Almost like you were jealous,” and he scoffs. 

“Of him?” 

“Uh huh, he is pretty attractive, maybe I will give him a call—“ and you notice him grip his phone tighter, and your lips curl, “but I probably won’t, not really my type,” 

“Not your type?” he asks. 

“More into the intellectuals, that man was far from it — I like an academic, sweater vests, glasses, a pretentious little office—“ and the glare is back, as you laugh, the rideshare sparing him from you continuing this conversation, but you also didn’t get to see the slight smile on his lips as you slipped into the back of the car. 

“Just sleep on the bed,” you say for probably the thousandth time, but he only shakes his head, as he sits on the couch, combing out his black locks. Even freshly showered, he looks unfairly hot — a loose gray t-shirt with sweatpants, contacts switched to glasses, and now his hair brushed against his shoulders. 

“I’ll sleep on the couch — it was fine last night—“ 

“Your spinal cord would beg to differ,” and he looks unamused, as he struggles with his comb, “what are you doing?” 

“I can’t get this knot out of my hair, and I can’t get you out of my hair either,” he adds, as you roll your eyes, slipping off the bed and walking over. You ease the comb from his fingers, biting your lip at the brush of his fingers, “what are you—“ 

“It’s easier if someone else does it,” and he sighs, giving in, as your fingers undo the knot in his hair gently, “your hair is really smooth and fine, probably why it tangled so fast,” and he only hums in response, his body relaxing under your touch, as you comb through the rest of his hair. You bite back a smile, he’s almost like a cat, keening under your touch, “feels good?” You murmur. 

“Yeah, it does,” and you don’t want the moment to end, you want this excuse to touch him to remain, the first time you’ve been able to breach this wall between you two — and it’d be over in an instant, “I think that’s good,” he mutters. 

He lays his head back on the top of the couch to look up at you — pretty obsidian orbs stared back at you — and your heart squeezes. He was so close, within reach, and all you had to do was lean down, press your lips against his, and maybe you wouldn’t have to tiptoe anymore, maybe you wouldn’t have to hide from him, maybe you could be— 

“We should go to bed,” he sighs, the moment breaks, as he sits upright, adjusting his pillow on the couch beside him, “we have an early start,” 

“Don’t remind me,” you turn back to him, “but you’re right - we should go to bed—“ you grab his pillow, “on the bed,” 

“No—“ 

“Like you said, we’re both adults,” you tilt your head, as he purses his lips, “I think I can handle sleeping in bed beside you, just sleeping, we can even put a pillow between us,” and you add, “if I try anything in my sleep, you challenge me to a pillow fight, and push me off the bed,” 

He scoffs, rubbing the back of his neck, “I really can sleep on—“ and then you raise your eyebrows, eyes flicking to the hand on his neck. He sighs, “fine, but I really will push you off the bed, I’m a restless sleeper,” 

“Then it’s equal opportunity,” you grin, as you slip into your side of the bed, stretching. Suguru is slower to get in, taking his time and adjusting his pillow and blanket before he finally gets into bed, “good night,” 

“Good night,” he turns to face away from you as he sleeps and you do the same. 

But it wasn’t a good night. Not when you couldn’t fucking sleep. 

For someone so smart, you really were very stupid. The bed that seemed expansive and open yesterday now felt Tom Thumb tiny, every shift of your body felt like a ripple effect, as you’d feel the slight shift of Geto right beside you. He was so close — you swore you could nearly feel the heat radiate off of him, the weight of his body beside you felt far too close and way too far — a chasm you could never cross.

And it was close to driving you insane enough to follow your wants all the way down it. 

But you couldn’t — but you could look, stare into the void, without becoming part of it. 

You shift again to face him this time — how could the back of someone’s head be so beautiful? Jet black locks that you had combed yourself fanned out on his pillow. But you could spot the nape of his neck through the tresses, a lovely spot that you only wished you could lean over and bury your face in. Your eyes began to droop. 

Hypnos finally took pity. You could only sleep this way. Your eyes finally flutter shut — you should have known — you were always the most comfortable with him in your sight. 

Suguru knew that you had fallen asleep — because your soft breaths fell into a rhythm, the crinkle of your sheets had grown silent, and the loud thoughts that filled up your head had gone quiet. He was glad one of you could sleep. 

He surely wouldn’t get a wink tonight. 

This was certainly more comfortable than the couch, but at least he had slept on the couch. He would be lucky to get thirty minutes at this rate. This weekend had already been too much — and he felt his will to stay away from you slowly snapping, a few strands away from breaking away completely. 

When he had seen you with Toji — he didn’t think, he just acted. He could see you were uncomfortable, the way your body leaned away from him, the way your eyes flickered around the room, and the way you toyed with your glass. It was a simple choice, but what happens when the next person that flirts with you is someone you’re interested in? Would he have to stand by and simply let it happen? Watch as you’re able to date this person but not him simply because of his title? 

He was jealous. Not of Toji — but of the idea of you being with someone else — of your attention drifting from him, of you drifting from him. He turned to lay on his back, he really was fucked wasn’t he? 

He turns his head to look at you. It never helped that you were effortlessly adorable, even now as you slept. Lips parted, body curled up, your hair falling in your face yet again. His fingers tuck a strand behind your ear gently, and you shift, a quiet hum leaving your lips as you settle back into the arms of the sandman. 

How were you so close but so far? You were mere inches away but you might as well be across the country. Because he couldn’t touch you, he couldn’t hold you, he couldn’t kiss you. The kiss he shared with you haunted his dreams — a daydream wrapped up in the nightmare of reality. He couldn’t ask you to wait — wait for your degree to be completed so the two of you could date. It wouldn’t be fair to you, but what about this was fair? 

And he turns on his side to face you, his fingers brushing your cheek gently — maybe if he couldn’t be with you in reality, he could allow himself to dream, his eyes flutter shut. 

Just for a moment. 

And his unconscious allows it — allows him to dream of you. 

Dream of your face buried in the crook of his neck, your soft breaths warming his skin, his nose buried in your hair. Your fingers grasped at his shirt, your other hand thrown over his middle. Why was your scent so intoxicating? He sighs, pulling you impossibly closer, and you shift, your leg sliding around his waist, as you pressed closer, pulling a groan from his lips as your core grazes right against his morning…visitor. 

And you move again, nose brushing against his collarbone, his name on your lips, quietly whispered like a secret against his skin. It was perfect — you were perfect. 

But what if this wasn’t a dream? The back of his mind prods — but that’s not possible, he was home in bed, right? This wasn’t real. It was the same dream he always had, of waking up in your arms, a lazy morning spent together in bed, the sun barely peeking over the horizon, the sheets becoming dappled in sunshine. 

No, there was no way this was real, he sighs into your hair, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, but even if it was, he thought as he drifted, he didn’t want to wake — not yet. 

A distinct buzz stirs you from your sleep. But you don't want to wake — you were far too comfortable. But the buzzing persists, so you reach blindly for your phone and to turn off the alarm. And settle back into bed, eyes still shut, as you find your way back onto your pillow — or what you thought was your pillow. 

Except pillows didn’t move, or have an arm they could wrap around you. 

Your eyes open, to find yourself entangled with someone else — your brow furrowing in confusion that melts away to silent horror. Professor Geto. 

So much for sticking to your sides. 

Fuck.  

You tried to extricate yourself to no avail, his arm wrapped around you, pulling you flush to his body, your legs entangled, aside from your leg thrown over his waist, you realize, a small squeak escaping your lips, as you try and fail to move away. Instead you brush up against something very…hard. 

You flush, cheeks burning so hot that it’s truly a miracle he didn’t wake from the heat of your skin against his alone. His morning wood was pressed right against you, nearly between your thighs — just like the last time it was  against you — why the fuck would you think about that now? You resisted the urge to press your legs together — lest you have another new problem, and a mess to deal with. 

You manage to only pull your head away, urging yourself up so that your faces are an inch or two apart now. His soft breaths warmed your lips, his brow relaxed, locks of black hair fell in front of his eyes. Your fingers reach and tuck the locks behind his ear, tips skimming his skin. And the arm around you almost seems to tighten, and you bite your lip, the comforting presence of his arms far too tempting to drag you into wanting — as if you ever left. Wanting was dangerous, because wanting can only ever lead to need, needing him was as foolish as it was to share a bed with the man you were in love with. 

But how foolish was it that you couldn’t bring yourself to pull away? It was okay right? Okay as long your lips didn’t touch, as long you didn’t follow this slope all the way down — it was treacherous to press forward, but why did you want to anyway?

Your eyes flutter shut again for a moment — and your eyes glanced at the morning sky — the sun had just breached the horizon. You could allow yourself a few minutes — even if you had to give up a lifetime with him. 

The blaring of your phone only seems to grow increasingly loud, as you give a small groan, rolling over to your phone again, slapping the screen to snooze it again. And your eyes flutter open a moment, lazily flickering over the screen — 8:45 AM. 

Your eyes close — before your mind fully wakes — 8:45 AM? 

“Fuck,” you shoot up to get up, a tangle of limbs,  jolting Geto awake, his eyes popping open, his arm instinctively grabbing you by the waist, and you land with an oomfph back onto the bed—wait, not the bed. 

Your hand pressed against his chest, your body against his, noses brushing, your eyes unable to tear away from the other — his eyes were even prettier this close — a dark brown, nearly black, with flecks of another color — purple? You can’t tell if that’s your heartbeat or his that’s racing with how close you are, chest to chest. And even as you try to shift, you make it worse by slipping, your hips rubbing against each other’s. 

Fuck. 

You both freeze for a moment, his eyes flickering to your lips and back, as yours does the same, before you both scramble apart. 

“We’re late. We’re really late,” you spring out of bed, grabbing random clothes from your suitcase, “I’m going to get ready, really fast,” you don’t even bother to look at his expression, and you almost wished your heart had shattered your ribcage, with how fucking hard it’s beating, if only that you wouldn’t have to spend another day in the conference with him. 

You sighed, as you brushed your teeth hurriedly while doing your hair — well maybe a lecture or presentation would take your mind off this morning. 

So that wasn’t a dream, Suguru was only glad you didn’t even glance at his face when you ran off, or you would have seen the lovely tomato red that graced his cheeks. He could still feel the warmth from your body, slowly receding, and he swore he could still feel you against him, your soft skin, your pretty lips against his neck, and your leg around his waist. 

Fuck. 

God, he had another fucking problem to deal with — as he shifted awkwardly, his morning wood up and erect with a tent that could put most large circus tents to shame. Fuck, he didn’t have time to take care of this — especially with you in the bathroom right now. 

But still, he pressed his inner palm to his lips, how was he going to make it through the rest of the conference with the feeling of your body still lingering in his mind. If the situation was different, the two of you would have woken up with smiles on your lips, spent the morning cuddling without a care, and probably a little more than that—

But the situation was the same, and his eyes slid to the bathroom door, so why was it that he still thinking about you? He wasn’t the type to dwell, he accepted things for what they were — he had his principles and his beliefs, and he stuck to them, unless proven otherwise. He was a man of guidelines, of rules—

So why were you the only person that ever made him want to throw every rule away? 

“We are going to be discussing ethical dilemmas faced in universities and how to approach them,” the lecturer begins, “can anyone tell us an example of one such dilemma?” 

You both had barely made it into a lecture — barely even speaking as you ran-walked into the conference — choosing a lecture at random, as the two of you ran a good fifteen minutes late. You both arrived, hiding your pants, as you both grabbed water bottles from the back, and sat down. 

And of course to make matters worse, your phone goes off, making the entire room turn to look at the two of you. You silence your phone, murmuring a quick sorry as the two of you take your seats. 

Could this possibly get worse? 

Your eyes glanced at him — it was already bad enough to begin with. Geto had barely spoken a word this morning, even as the two of arrived at the conference, the only words he spoke were to the attendant that parked his car. 

You tugged at the collar of your shirt, adjusting your clothes. And if that wasn’t enough, you were going to spend the day sweaty and disheveled. Meanwhile, you stole another glance at your professor — his skin flushed from running, button up not buttoned up all the way, glasses instead of contacts, and his hair in its usual bun, but a few strands were nearly coming loose — he still looked fucking delectable. But he wouldn’t meet your gaze, his body positioned to lean away from yours, his eyes fixed ahead. 

You held back your sigh as you focused on the presentation — you just needed to get through today — as the lecturer picked someone who raised their hand. 

“A student-teacher relationship is one such ethical problem faced in universities today,” and Geto nearly chokes on his water, coughing slightly, as you feel your cheeks burn at the thought of this morning, “it presents several ethical problems — including the role the professor plays in the student’s education and future, their ability to provide praise or reprimand, and even grant recommendations gives them great power over their student. It leaves the student without much freedom in the relationship.”

Oh, what the fuck. 

The rest of the conference is spent in relative silence with a thick film of awkwardness perfectly overlayed. When you both finally return to the hotel room, your only consolation is that you’ll be leaving tomorrow. You toss your things onto the couch, “I’m going to wash up,” you tell him, and he only nods in reply, as you enter the bathroom and shut the door, back pressed against it and sliding down. 

Oh this is such a mess. You sigh, maybe a shower will help. 

It didn’t. You were still just as much of a mess as you were before. You sighed, as you stood in front of the sink, wiping your hair with a towel. This could be so simple if you both could be together — so easy. There would be no tension, no hurt feelings, no awkwardness — you could just be. But that’s not an option. So the only other option is to let him go. 

But you didn’t know how to begin to. 

Either way, hiding in the bathroom wouldn’t solve a thing — and you finally opened the door, “I’m done if you want to wash up,” he nods, sitting on the couch, reading a book. His glasses rested on the tip of his nose, lips pursed, and legs crossed. 

You walk over, grabbing your things from the couch and put some of your things away in your suitcase. But after all of that is done, you realize one thing is missing — your cellphone. 

“Shit,” you murmur under your breath, searching through your suit coat pockets, your pants pocket, anywhere that your phone might be. 

“What’s wrong?” Geto says, book in his lap, as he tilts his head. 

“Can’t find my phone,” you mumble, cheeks burning — god, it was already awkward enough, and now this? 

“Is it on ring?” You nod — your phone was usually on ring, sometimes to your detriment — you cringe at the memory in the lecture this morning, “I’ll call it,” 

He calls you — and you glance at his phone screen, your contact is just your name, no picture, nothing. You bite your lip, what were you expecting? A heart next to your name? And the sound of your phone ringing catches both of your attention. 

“It’s over here, somewhere,” he says, lifting up some of cushions of the couch, and reaching underneath into the creases, as you walk over — “I found—“ 

And you were so concerned about your contact information in his phone that you forgot about his contact information in your phone. 

The screen flashed with the image of him sleeping all lopsided on the couch from that first night, as you covered your mouth in both horror, but also to stifle your laugh. 

His eyes flicker to you, “When did you—“ and you reach for your phone, but he moves it away, “not until you answer my questions,” 

“This isn’t class, Professor, I want my phone—“ you reach for it again, and he’s holding it above your head, “oh real mature—“ 

“Like the picture you have of me as my contact picture?” He raises an eyebrow, a real smile pulling at the corners of his lips, “thought I should resort to my student’s level,”  

“Your T.A.,” you correct, as you reach for your phone again, but he’s using his height to his advantage, and he’s beginning to walk backwards, “come on, give it back—“ 

“Not until I change and delete that photo,” and he’s trying to hold your phone up to your face to unlock it, and you gasp. 

“Oh my god, give it back!” And you grab his hand, and he’s grabbing at the other, giggles leaving your lips, as he laughs too, as the two of you struggle for the phone, your fingers closing over it, and over his own fingers as well. 

And you realize how close you are to him. 

The two of you freeze a moment, laughter on your lips fading away to soft smiles, and his fingers squeeze yours lightly, as he passes you your phone back. But he doesn’t move away — and you don’t either. 

“Why did you let go?” and it seems like it’s a force out of your control that draws you together, no matter how much either of you try to let go. 

“Because I can’t help giving you what you want,” he murmurs, and the heat of his gaze melts your heart, as you drop your phone onto the couch, and reach for his hand again. 

And you lean closer, your other hand gently brushing against his cheek, tracing the line of his jaw, “So if I ask for a kiss, will you give it to me?” You won’t close the gap anymore than you have — he needs to reach for you too, let himself give into gravity. 

He does, as his hand brushes against your cheek, thumb rubbing back and forth across your cheekbone, “will we stop at just a kiss?” He murmurs, leaning so close that your eyes want to flutter shut. 

“Only one way to find out,” and his lips brush yours. And it’s not chaste like your first kiss was, no, his lips slide against yours, as his other hand slides to the back of your neck. He swallows your gasp eagerly, if the smirk you feel against your lips is anything to go off of. Your teeth graze against this bottom lip teasingly, drawing a small groan from the back of his throat. 

Neither of you couldn’t stop at one kiss, and you both knew that, even as your lips parted for a small breath of air, they found each other again — just as you both always did. Because you could never let him go — no matter how hard you tried. 

RING. RING. RING. 

And this time it isn’t an alarm. But rather his phone, flashing with a name that brings you crashing back to reality. 

The department head. 

“Fuck,” he murmurs under his breath, as he parts from you, his warmth leaving all at once, as he grabs his phone, and turns away, “Hello? Yes, the conference is over. Everything went well. No, no, nothing out of the ordinary.” 

You stared at his back, this would always be the case wouldn’t it? Even as you crashed together, something would pull you apart, and neither of you could break the cycle. You take your phone from the couch, and crawl into bed, but you could start. 

You close your eyes, your fingers brushing against your lips for a moment. You needed to start — otherwise, you would just end up broken. 

And you don’t hear him hang up — or see him stare at your figure under the covers — and he would break along with you. 

Suguru didn’t know what to say the next morning — especially when it seemed couldn’t even bear to look at him, much less speak to him. You had busied yourself with packing, even before he had awoken. His back ached from the night he spent on the couch, he couldn’t fall asleep for far too long, and by the time he did, he kept sleeping — through his many alarms it seemed. 

And it wasn’t the couch that kept him awake. 

You both had the most lovely timing, didn’t you? He thought, as he combed his hair in the bathroom, the memory of your fingers running through his hair as you gently undid the knots in his locks still ever present — it seemed like any time you two wanted to act on your feelings, the universe was doing what it could to keep you apart. 

Was this fate versus free will? 

You both kept choosing each other — but fate kept pulling you apart. Did he have any control over his actions or did he have no control over his actions at all? Was it all predetermined by some force he couldn’t perceive? Some force intent on pulling you apart. 

He sighed, as his phone lights up with an email from the department head — department head position opened up in Jujutsu University: Kyoto — 

And so maybe he should let it. 

The next few weeks pass by far too quick. As your semester picks up, you stop attending Professor Geto’s classes, opting to send an email to let him know, and he replies back with a simple response — Ok. Please let me know when and if you are available to input the grades for the midterm paper. 

The rest of your T.A. work is done online and over email — and you do your best to keep busy, keep yourself occupied, and keep your thoughts from straying to him.

And you maybe succeed 10% of the time. It doesn’t help that your unconscious does not wish to cooperate since it seems that once you stopped seeing your professor during waking hours, he’s infiltrated your sleep — sneaking in and out by the time your eyes open. 

And then you’re left with the fragments of his touch, his voice, his kisses, and soft, loving words. 

Just as you always were it seemed. 

And before you know it, the end of the semester comes, and you find yourself in front of that same office door yet again. It felt like an eternal reoccurrence — stuck to repeat the same events again and again in an infinite loop. Was there any exit from this loop? 

You didn’t know — you knocked on his office door — but you could try. 

“Come in,” you do, entering his office to find him sitting at his desk, hair half up for once. And his eyes flicker up to meet yours, his head tilting at your stare, “see something interesting?” 

“Your hair—“ and your cheeks burn — so much for trying — “it’s different,” 

“Thought I’d try something different — my hair is growing out,” and you have to repress the want to curl a lock or his hair around your finger, “do you not like it?” 

You shake your head, “It looks nice, just different,”

And he hands you the papers he’s graded, “you can input those, I’m just finishing up a couple more, so if you wouldn’t mind waiting a bit?” 

“Not at all,” a silence falls over between the two of you, the quiet scratch of his pen as he grades, the occasional ding of his e-mail breaking up the silence. You sneak a glance at him — ebony tresses brushing against his broad shoulders, his brow furrowed that you wished to run your fingers along to smooth his worries from his mind, pretty lips parted as he reads a sentence silently to himself. 

Fuck — no, no, you can’t do this. 

You busy yourself thumbing your way through the papers, spotting the familiar red scrawls littering these pages, as they once did yours. You were so pissed when you got your first paper back — indignant even — a whole Karen ready to speak to his supervisor. But when his honest criticism and blunt words rang true, you found yourself not only wanting to prove him wrong, but a want to be better. To earn his respect. And of course, later, you wanted to earn a little more than that. 

You bite back a chuckle, and here you still were — by his side. Except next semester you wouldn’t be his T.A. 

But you would still be a student. And he would still be a professor. 

But one other thing that hasn’t changed is how brutal the feedback is — you couldn’t help but feel bad for “Itadori Yuuji” — whoever that was. 

“What are you smiling about?” Your eyes snap up to meet his, his head leaning against his palm, elbow resting on the desk. 

“Nothing,” you shake your head, but he looks unconvinced, “just thinking about our first time in this office,” and then your cheeks burn at the double meaning, “I mean our first office hours appointment—“ 

He waves you off, “I know what you meant,” a small chuckle in his cadence, as he continues to grade, “you certainly weren’t happy with me,” 

“No I wasn’t,” a small smile on your lips, “but it worked out in the end,” you add, “you got an amazing T.A. after all,” 

His eyes meet yours, “More than just that,” 

Why can’t you help but get pulled in time and time again? And why can’t you help but ask questions that will only hurt you in the end? 

He continues to grade when you finally speak, “What do you think would have happened if I didn’t end up being your T.A.?” 

And his pen stops, lips pursed, “We shouldn’t—“ 

“Why shouldn’t we?” you felt like a child demanding an answer from their parent. 

“We agreed—”

“I don’t remember an agreement-” 

“It was unspoken—” 

You scoff, crossing your arms, “You really are only a professor because an attorney would know that binding agreements can’t be unspoken,” he falls silent, his voice soft. 

“I don’t want to keep hurting you,” his words are wrought with conflict, pain seeping into every syllable, “I don’t want to keep going down this road only to for you to get hurt in the end — I don’t want to jeopardize your future for something that might not last—” 

“But what if it does?” and he swallows thickly, “what if we can make it work? We’re both adults, we can be discreet—” 

“So discreet that we end up making out in my office?” he takes off his glasses only to run a hand down his face, a slight pink tinge on his cheeks, and you huff out a chuckle. 

“A little more discreet than that, we’ll lock the door next time,” it’s his turn to scoff, and you rise from your seat, lips curled, “close the lights, or maybe even kiss in a place that’s not on campus,” but he does the same, meeting you on the side of his desk, his fingers brushing your cheek so gently as if you’d shatter under his touch. 

“I don’t want to stand in the way of your career,” he says, his fingers finding your hand regardless, fingers interlacing, “I don’t want you to—” 

“It’s my choice, Suguru,” you murmur, as you lean against his warm palm, your fingers sliding against his palm and into his inky tresses, “don’t you owe me a choice, and a drink?” you add, and his lips curl in a knowing smile. 

“I do, if you’ll still have me,” and he’s leaning close, sucking the air from the room, and the logic from your minds, as his lips barely graze yours, “shouldn’t we lock the door?” 

“Fuck it,” and you pull him into a deep kiss that pulls a groan from his lips that makes your cunt ache, as he’s already pushing you into the lip of his desk, his hand sliding down to your waist. 

“Now who’s being unethical?” he murmurs, pressing eager kisses along your jaw, that makes you melt against him, your legs nearly jelly at this point, “what kind of example are you setting as a T.A.?” 

You bite back your moan as his lips find the soft spot of your neck, teeth grazing it far too fucking teasingly, “Well students learn by example,” and his hands are slipping under thighs to lift you so you’re sitting on his desk — you spread your legs for him in the dress that you’re in, pantyhose underneath, his heavy lidded gaze raking over your body, “and look at my professor staring at his T.A. so lustfully, even with a clear power dynamic—” 

And his fingers find your thighs again, squeezing, before his fingers dig into the sheer hose, tearing holes in it, drawing a gasp from your lips, “How’s that for a power dynamic, princess?” far too pleased, “don’t worry, I’ll buy you new ones,” he murmurs, “now just be a good girl and spread your legs for me,” he says, as he pulls away the ruined pantyhose, and he’s undoing the buttons on his shirt with one hand — one, two, three — before your fingers take over, leaning to press kisses at each inch of exposed skin, until the shirt falls open. 

Then his lips find yours again, his silver tongue asking for you to part your lips and you do — as he extracts every want you have with his burning touch — his lips against yours, his large hands parting your thighs, his knee pressed against your twitching cunt — and only leaves your want for him behind, until it becomes a need. 

“Wonder what our students would think of you,” his fingers tease your inner thighs, drawing a whine from your lips, “wanting your professor to fuck you in his office instead of inputting their grades,” he whispers in your ear, as his fingers finally skim the wet patch of your underwear, “so wet f’me, already? Look I think you even soaked my slacks,” he tsks, as his thumb and forefinger find your chin and tilt it up, “what are you going to do about that?” 

“Suguru—please,” and he smiles as his finger starts to tease your puffy clit through your drenched panties, “don’t tease—” 

“How can I not when you’ve nothing but tease me with your existence?” he pulls the crotch of your underwear aside, “I’ll oblige my favorite student this time—but I won’t be so nice next time,” he adds, biting your bottom lip. 

RING. RING. RING. 

It was his fucking office phone. You groan, but his finger continues to sink into you, “Suguru—” 

“Let it ring,” his lips find yours in a bruising kiss as his finger deliciously sinks into you, “I have all I need right here,” he whispers, and you pull him back into a kiss by the collar of his unbuttoned shirt, your hand sliding up and down his chest, while he worked a finger into your cunt, “so fucking wet f’me, so perfect,” 

And your hand flies back to support yourself as a second finger begins to sink into you — but your hand grazes his office phone, and the messages begin to play back.

“Fuck, sorry,” you mumble, as you reach blindly for the phone, only to knock it back, as he chuckles and reaches behind you, trying but failing to help — your noses brushing, and he smiles before kissing you again. 

Mr. Geto, sorry we missed each other, I was calling, hoping that you would still be in office for the day, but I must have just missed you. I wanted to call to offer you the job as department head at Jujutsu Tech University: Kyoto—

You freeze, your lips parting from his as you look up at him, his eyes wide as he stops the message from playing back any further — and the words settle over the mood like a sheet pulled over a dead body. 

And you’re the first to speak, always asking the questions that will hurt you in the end, “You’re moving to Kyoto?” 

✧ a/n: so i'm sorry for that ending hahah, i promise there will be a happy ending later on for these two. thank you to @gaylatteart and @laneysmusings for betaing and just being the best. also if i tagged you please comment / reblog because tagging on tumblr sucks, it takes very long.

✧ taglist: @hatsunemitskislobotomy, @difficultdomains, @diogodxlot, @that-goth-bisexual, @bash1018, @dazailover1900, @aliyalala, @ashhlsstuff, @blue041803, @mwtsxri, @bblgumfairy, @sukunasleftkneecap, @xo-evangeline, @fiannee, @teatreeoilll, @chalametet, @ryukaver, @d1gitalbathh, @saga3ious, @seventhcinema, @satosugucide, @your-l0nely-star, @sokkasmoon, @deegausserr, @hyookka, @oggsyy, @littlebitb, @higuchislut, @ti-mame, @itoshisins, @cerene-dipity, @onionsoop, @sinlillith, @izzythenaive, @akvrae, @lalacute03, @rxndou, @c-themoon, @xxrag-d0llxx, @hqtoge, @sugarxlumps, @hopeluna, @actualdeemon,

#sab [mlist] #sab series [prof suguru] #suguru geto x reader #suguru geto smut #geto suguru x reader #geto x reader #geto suguru smut #suguru geto fanfiction #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #geto suguru imagines #geto suguru x you #geto x you #geto fanfiction

[britneyshakespeare]

i think reading the first three shakespeare henriad plays back-to-back-to-back has broken my brain for the last three months

#and i read shakespeare's book: the making of the first folio (2023) by chris laoutaris in between r2 and 1h4.... #april may and june have been highly shakespearean months for me #i haven't read as much shakespeare in recent years as i had been when i first received the riverside shakespeare so i was feeling #some kind of way. wanted to make up for it. #i always tried to read at least one play a year #but now i have a problem. i've read 20 plays and 7 of the plays i have read are english histories #which is too high of a number for my liking. THE HISTORIES HAVE BROKEN MY BRAIN!!!!!! #tales from diana #i have only read five (5!!) of the proper comedies #7 comedies if you count romances as comedies #oh god. i need to do smth about that number #perhaps i should read a comedy before i go onto henry the fifth even though i reallyam looking forward to it.... #that's like everyone's favorite play in the henriad seemingly #idk this series as been really good so far #i think richard ii might still be my favorite but henry iv part 1 had some really great moments too #henry iv part 2 was a bit slow in the beginning but it had a great ending #i also realized i haven't read a proper tragedy since 2020 lol. w king lear #i honestly barely remember king lear... i should watch a production of it soon #idk i read king lear in the beginning of the pandemic so that's fogged up w WEIRD memories and. idk #i should probably reread it someday but right now there's just so much else i want to get to read first #king lear wasn't my favorite when i was reading it but that might've just been. hard to get into bc of the state of the world #i did in fact read it bc shakespeare wrote it during the plague but. that was not of comfort. to say the least #i told myself i'd take at least a month after finishing henry iv part 2 to read other things that ive been slacking on #particularly other plays. i have a lot of drama i want to read that is NOT shakespeare. i do. i do have other playwrights i like #gonna start by reading some plays from my norton anthology of drama and just. kick back

[egcdeath]

spectator sport

pairing: joel miller x reader

summary: you and joel are the most competitive parents in your daughters’ soccer league. as it turns out, it’s not so easy being enemies when your daughters become best friends.

word count: 4.8k

warnings: canon divergent (no apocalypse yay!), rivals(?) to lovers, they don’t really like each other at the start but they also kinda do?, fluff, realizing feelings, domestic moments, yearning, allusions to a divorce 

author’s note: tlou is an angsty masterpiece, but sometimes all i want is a little lighthearted fun. is this the most in character thing?? no! is it more fun to imagine malewife joel in a world without cordyceps? well… you tell me ;) 

part two / series masterlist

“You got it, Chlo,” you cheered from behind a spray painted white line on a cleat-beaten grassy field. You balled your fists as you anxiously watched your daughter chase after the ball with a ferocity, herding it closer and closer towards the goal.

Your daughter had always had a passion for soccer, having watched professional matches with her father since the moment she could comprehend the game, and playing as soon as she could walk. Chloe had leaned even further into the sport following you and your ex-husband’s somewhat messy divorce, which left you in charge of bringing her to practices on Tuesdays, and games on Thursdays. It wasn’t like you minded much, you were always happy to support your daughter in whatever brought her joy. 

“Pass it! Pass it!” a loud, masculine voice interjected as the man next to you shouted at your daughter. 

Joel was not exactly your favorite parent on the team. While most of the parents enjoyed his presence, with his oddly wise advice for the girls and vocal support of the team (it also helped that he was quite easy on the eyes), something about the man had always thrown you off. Maybe it was his stubborn demeanor, or the way that he found a way to argue with you during every single game, without fail. 

Now, as far as soccer parents went, you weren’t the worst. You had your moments of snapping at a shitty referee after a particularly rough week at work, or possibly being a little too enthusiastic when something bad happened to the opposing team, but somehow Joel always managed to do or say something that provoked you just enough to go back and forth with him.

Chloe glanced over in his direction, briefly losing her footing in perfect time for a member of the opposing team to snatch the ball right out from under her. 

There was a collective groan from some of the more intense parents on your side, and you openly glared at them for indicating their disappointment with your daughter’s performance. But this wasn’t their fault. It was Joel’s.

“Great call out there,” you spat, shooting daggers in Joel’s direction as you took a few steps closer to where he was standing.

“Oh please,” you could practically hear the roll of his eyes in his words as he prepared to defend himself from your vitriol. “You think I wanted that to happen? I’m rooting for the whole team, not just my child.”

“I am not just rooting for my kid,” you delivered the statement a little too genuinely considering that the truth was probably closer to the opposite. “But you’re acting like you wouldn’t have felt the same way if it was your daughter.”

“I wouldn’t, ‘cause I understand that we’re probably gonna win,” Joel responded casually with a shrug of his shoulders. 

“Well, we would’ve had a much better shot at that if you weren’t so dead set on yelling shitty directions at the girls. Maybe leave that to their coach?”

“Hey, don’t curse! You’re forgetting there are kids around,” one of the fathers interjected, sounding far more offended than he needed to be. 

“Shut up, Mark,” you and Joel said at almost the same time, voices overlapping. Your little spats were yours and yours only, and you’d thought it was common knowledge by now not to interfere when any of the parents were getting into it—but especially with you two. 

As usual, your little back and forth seemed to go on and on. It had reached the point where you weren’t even really sure it had anything to do with the game as much as it had to do with the text you’d received from your ex just a few hours before the game, and whatever bullshit Joel had going on in his own life.

As much as you’d like to say you had self awareness, week after week the other parents shared knowing looks and snickered at your spectacle, yet being the laughing stock of the game didn’t deter either of you. 

This week’s argument was no different. 

To be quite honest, you hadn’t ever really paid attention to those who treated your spats as their mid-game entertainment. Right now, all you could think about was stupid Joel, shouting something stupid at your daughter, making her lose her focus, and miss out on a moment. 

Well, maybe you two had too much tunnel vision, as an uproar of cheers from your side pulled both of your attention from each other, and to the celebrating team on the field. Particularly, Chloe and Sarah high-fiving as they jogged away from the goal. 

Awkwardly the two of you clapped, cheering the names of your respective children. You didn’t miss the slight flush of red on Joel’s cheeks after missing the sight of his daughter working with yours to score, but you would be a liar if you didn’t admit that you felt the slightest hint of embarrassment too.

The game wrapped up soon after, with a quick discussion with the coach before the children were dismissed back to their families. As you waited for Chloe, you didn’t miss the newfound camaraderie between herself and Sarah, with the girls seemingly laughing at something as they made their way over to you. 

Despite whatever negative feelings you may have had towards Joel, you were always happy to see your daughter happy, and if that meant you may have to tolerate the father of her friend, maybe, just maybe, you would stop treating her games as an arena for your shouting matches.

——

As an involved parent, you were no stranger to school fundraisers. For the most part, you would enter a raffle and sit through a catered dinner as the school choir butchered school-appropriate songs, or purchase a handful of chocolate bars from whatever kid was knocking at your door. However, for this fundraiser, Chloe insisted that you volunteer. 

It was a simple bake sale occurring during school hours, and you had the day off. How bad could it really be?

Apparently, really bad. 

Just minutes after you arrived and began to set out the cash box and assorted baked goods, an unwelcome presence joined you, immediately bringing an uncomfortable tension into the atmosphere. If you knew when you signed up for this event that you would be working with Joel Miller, you could guarantee you wouldn’t have been so eager to register.

“Oh, hey,” you tensely acknowledged after a moment, glancing up at the man who was joining you, then back down at the bagged brownies in front of you.

“Hey,” he responded just a second too quickly, then went silent as he seemed to feel out the awkward tension in the room. After a few seconds of heavy silence that felt closer to an hour, he finally added, “Any ways can I help out?” 

Joel gestured to the table where you’d been organizing some of the baked goods. “Is there a method to your madness? Or just…” he trailed off awkwardly. 

It was obvious that he hadn’t expected to be working with you, likely not enthused to be spending a good portion of the day in such close proximity with someone he clearly did not like being around. The situation was almost comical—spending hours in a school with someone that you weren’t sure you could spend five minutes with without breaking into explicit argument. Obviously it would be inappropriate to argue with him in this setting, so you reasoned that for the duration of your shift, you could at least attempt to be cordial.

“Uh, they just want us to keep twenty items out at a time,” you shrugged. You could be cordial. You could just give Joel instructions, then only interact with him when need be. “And to keep gluten free items in this basket. Other than that, everything is set up. The first lunch period’s in about a half hour, so we won’t have much to do until then.”

“Got it,” Joel nodded, pulling out a rather squeaky chair before taking a seat next to you. 

The following few minutes could only be described as painfully awkward. You could cut the tension with a knife as you attempted to scroll nonchalantly on your phone, and Joel uncomfortably rubbed his hands on his jeans. This was going to be a long afternoon.

“So, what made you decide to help out today?” he asked out of the blue, drawing your attention away from your phone and over to his face.

Okay, you could handle small talk without getting into an argument. Besides, it’s not like you had anything to argue about. And to be frank, were your arguments really ever anything of substance? Sure, sometimes you both had done something slightly annoying or antagonistic, but your arguments never really felt that serious. 

“Chloe knew I had the day off and pretty enthusiastically suggested I come help,” you shrugged as almost a means to shake some of your nerves out. “How about you?”

“Pretty similar on my end. Sarah thought it would be a great idea for me to come in today and help out.” Joel looked at you, then back down at his watch, as if he didn’t want to maintain eye contact for too long. 

What a strange coincidence. Both of your daughters suggest you come to their school and work together on something.

You bit back whatever emotion it was involuntarily forming on your lips as it occurred to you that there was not a chance in Hell that this was accidental. Sarah and Chloe seemed to be quite close—you rarely heard a story that didn’t involve Sarah these days—and it was not unlike your daughter to plot schemes to try to fix relationships, a trait you and your ex-husband know a little too well. Clever, clever girls.

“What are the odds this was on purpose?” you asked, finally not restraining your entertainment by this whole situation. How ridiculous. And ironic. How ridiculously ironic. 

“I’m gonna go out on a limb and say quite high,” Joel pressed his lips together and shook his head to himself. 

And while you’d rather have your child just communicate to you that you’re embarrassing her at games, or that she would prefer you to be at the very least amicable with her new best friend’s father, at the end of the day you couldn’t really blame her for pulling off an elaborate plot. Besides, your feud with Joel was silly and unnecessary, and part of you had always wondered if you hadn’t spent so much time arguing with him, if you two would actually get along. 

“If they did plan this, which they most certainly did, we have some smart kids,” you chuckled softly. “And maybe for the sake of them, we can attempt to be… friendly?”

Joel nodded slowly, “I can do friendly.”

A truce. Although the tension between you could still be cut with a knife, it felt nice to agree at the very least not to start a war at the little table. 

”Can we really blame them for setting us up?” you pondered aloud, “I mean, who would want their best friend’s parents to be enemies?”

“We’re enemies?” Joel asked with a lift of his brow.

“Well,” you paused. You weren’t really enemies. Despite all of the heated arguments, more times than not, Joel provided you a pretty safe outlet to vent your feelings without many repercussions. “Maybe… rivals?”

Joel shrugged, “Maybe. I know for certain I don’t see you as an enemy. Although, I apologize if I ever made you feel that way.”

Was Joel… apologizing? First, working together with the man, and now an apology. Maybe you should’ve gone and visited your psychic after all, with the unpredictable way your week was turning out. 

“I’m sorry,” he admitted, sounding quite genuine. You still weren’t completely sure that this was some weird joke, or that you’d woken up in a parallel dimension. “For always stirring the pot during games. It’s really quite-“

“Joel, it’s really not an issue,” earnestly and without a thought you interrupted the apologetic man, not wanting him to feel the guilt of being solely responsible for your little tussles. “I don’t take anything you say during games seriously. But I also want to apologize. It’s probably not the best to find little things to argue about every week.”

“I just wanted to be clear that I don’t hate you or anything,” he emphasized.

“Well I don’t want you to think I hate you either. If we’re being honest, it’s been pretty nice to be able to inconsequentially blow off steam every now and then. If anything, you’re doing me a favor.”

The corners of his lips turned up and into the slightest smile at your admission, and suddenly it had felt as if a weight had lifted off of your shoulders, and a bit more of the tension had dissolved in the room. 

“No hard feelings?” he offered. 

“None. Maybe the opposite,” you teased.

“Well, you know what they say about love and hate…”

“Now that may be a step too far.”

As it turned out, you and Joel made a pretty efficient bake sale team. Joel helped the kids pick out their baked goods, and you cashed the kids out. Sure, it wasn’t the most complex operation, but it felt nice to be in such a comfortable rhythm, especially considering the majority of your professional work you did alone. 

By the end of your shift, you were far less displeased with your situation. In fact, one might even say that you enjoyed spending your afternoon at the sale with your daughter’s best friend’s father. Maybe Chloe and Sarah’s plot to force you together wasn’t so terrible after all. 

Maybe Joel wasn’t so terrible after all.

——-

Every year, Autumn means one thing in your town: the annual fall festival.

It was honestly impressive the way that the entire community would go all out to put on such a large event in order to adequately honor the season, although part of you was convinced that the whole weekend-long event was an excuse for kids and adults alike to indulge in candy apples and Oreo turkeys and show off unnaturally large pumpkins. 

This year was no different, and as tradition, you and Chloe hauled yourselves down to the festival. It just happened to be your luck that as you were exiting the car, a pickup truck pulling into a parking space caught Chloe’s attention. 

“It’s Sarah!” your daughter informed you, practically skipping over to the vehicle. You followed after your daughter (who just so happened to be much faster than you) as she pulled her friend into a hug the very moment she popped out of the car. 

Joel hopped out as well, glancing at your children who already seemed to be walking off towards the fair, then back to you.

“How are you?” he asked, fidgeting with his keys as he put them into his pocket. It was clear that despite deciding not to feud anymore, things were still a little fresh and weird between you two. 

“Good, good,” you trailed off, nodding slowly as you slipped your hands into your own pockets and began to follow the two girls. Somehow, Joel ended up walking next to you as you trailed behind your daughters, and a light tension filled the air. 

Despite feeling slightly more comfortable with him after your shift together at the bake sale, it was clear that there was still some strange awkward energy between you two. After all, you had only made amends around a week ago, and prior to that, the majority of your interactions had included some sort of verbal altercation.

Walking into the fair, you maintained a less-than-comfortable silence as your daughters chatted and led the way to the field, filled with booths and stations as far as your eye could see. 

After a bit of aimless walking around, Chloe suggested a stop at a cornhole station. Watching your respective children play from the sidelines, you couldn’t help but crack a smile at the pure, unadulterated joy coming from your daughter as her and Sarah bantered with each other and tossed little bean bags. After ending with a tie, the pair began to walk away from where they were standing before pausing in front of you and Joel.

“You guys should play!” Sarah suggested enthusiastically, looking up at her father with an animated look in her eyes. 

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Joel trailed off and glanced at you as if he wanted to check how you were feeling on the matter. 

Sure, you didn’t have the upper body strength of someone who did construction for a living, but you were confident in your ability to kick some ass at corn hole. 

“C’mon, mom. And you too, Joel. It’s fun! It’ll be fun!” Chloe, ever the instigator, egged you on. 

“Alright, alright, since you insist,” you played up your reluctance, but happily accepted the red beanbags your daughter offered you. “It’s on, Miller,” you said as you approached the boards. 

“Just you wait,” he shot back, matching the overconfident, cocky persona you’d seemed to put on. “Before I embarrass you, I’ll be polite and let you go first.”

“How kind,” you playfully rolled your eyes, but focused long enough to toss the pack not too hard and not too light, and it slid on the board before landing in the hole. “What was that about embarrassing myself?”

Heckling Joel was unsurprisingly quite easy, considering the majority of your interactions prior to the past week had consisted of taking blows at each other. What you didn’t expect was how naturally the banter between you flowed when both of you were able to acknowledge that what you were saying really wasn’t serious at all.

“I think that was called luck. You still have plenty of time to embarrass yourself,” Joel didn’t even miss a beat as he tossed his bean bag with ease, landing right into the hole.

You’d be lying if you said you weren’t impressed by his aim, and that your confidence hadn’t slightly faltered. For once in your life, it was possible that a man wasn’t over exaggerating his capabilities.

“Not bad, Joel,” you brushed his accomplishment off as you went to toss your next bag. This time, you weren’t so lucky, and your turn ended with your beanbag on the side of the board.

Chloe and Sarah dramatically reacted from the side, cheering or whooping whenever they saw fit. In a weird way, it was like your roles had been reversed. You and Joel were no longer the overenthusiastic spectators.

“What did I say? Luck,” Joel tutted. “Look, girls. I’ll show you how a real expert does it.”

Turning his back to you and the board, Joel attempted to toss his bag through the board, yet as he turned back around, he found it in the grass between your two boards. 

You, Sarah, and Chloe erupted into laughter at the irony of it all, so much so that Joel couldn’t even help but to join in. 

“Great job, ‘real expert’. Can you teach me your ways?”

You were somewhat stunned with the speed at which the ice had broken between you and Joel. Just a few minutes ago walking into the fair, you were nervous that the evening would be tense and awkward, yet here you were, teasing and laughing right along with each other.

Once your laughter subsided, you both tossed your last bags, with you making it in and Joel missing. After a gratuitous moment of celebration, Joel walked over to you and extended his hand for a handshake. You took up his offer, and firmly shook his hand. 

“Good job out there. You were a worthy opponent.”

“Thank you, Joel. I could say the same, but I won’t. Y’know, since you lost.”

This received a giggle from your kids as Joel abruptly dropped your hand, feigning offense. Maybe it had just been a long time since you’d received any physical affection at all, but the loss of his brief grip stirred something strange deep inside of you. 

Ew. No. 

You could barely tolerate this man a week ago. Sure, he wasn’t terrible to look at, and your daughter had seemed to take a liking to him, but you’d be remiss if you hadn’t thought about all of those charged arguments you’d had during soccer games. You had only just recently considered him to be anything more than a nuisance. 

“Where to next?” Joel asked, pulling you out of your head as the girls began to chatter and move in the direction of whatever booth had caught their eyes. 

That was a train of thought for another time. Maybe you’d let yourself think about it tonight night, as you attempt to fall asleep in a bed that’s far too big for one person and far too cold without someone else there. But not here, where the situation felt like a live wire, and a little too real for your liking. 

——

For the most part, Chloe’s soccer hobby took up more time than it gave you. The time it took going to practices, games, and tournaments quickly added up, on top of working an absurd amount to make sure that you could pay the mortgage and club fees on time and keep your child happy. The one exception to this general rule were team dinner nights—a night where you didn’t have to worry about spending an hour or two in the kitchen, giving you far more free time to do whatever you wanted.

This time around, Joel was hosting the dinner at his place. Clearly, Chloe was excited to be spending the evening at her closest friend’s home, and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t the slightest bit curious to see what his place looked like.

And maybe, just maybe, you were the slightest bit excited to see Joel again. 

“Can we just go over early?” she requested as you checked the nearly done cookies in the oven. “Can I go over early to hang out with Sarah? Please?”

You practically could hear the puppy dog eyes in her voice, and when you looked over to her, she was indeed looking at you with a somewhat convincing sense of desperation. It was never easy for you to say no to your daughter, which she unfortunately knew. This time was no different. 

Sighing softly, you conceded, “have Sarah ask her dad if you can come by.”

Chloe cheered as she dashed off to the other room, seemingly reaching out to her friend who very quickly responded, as your daughter was back in just a few minutes with confirmation that she could come by any time. 

Quickly pulling the cookies out from the oven and throwing them into a container, you packed Chloe into the car, and hauled her over to her friend’s house. 

Chloe grabbed your Tupperware and skipped to the door, politely knocking and waiting patiently as you stayed seated in your car, just to make sure your daughter got in okay. As if she was awaiting Chloe’s arrival (and she most definitely was), Sarah pulled open the door the moment Chloe had put her knuckles to the door and welcomed her friend in. 

A somewhat muffled voice from inside called something out, leaving Sarah to relay it back to you: “Before you go, my dad wanted to know if you wanted to stop in for a drink?” she called out, just loud enough for you to hear from your open window.

Any other day, you would’ve said no. But for some reason, coming in and checking in just felt right today—so that was exactly what you did. It wasn’t like you and Joel weren’t in friendship territory with each other. 

While the girls ran off upstairs, you made your way to the kitchen to find a very stressed-looking Joel. He was in complete disarray as he checked the oven twice, then the fridge for something, then stirred something in a pot.

“Hey, you alright?” you asked right off the bat, setting down the container of cookies your daughter had given back to you onto his countertop. 

“Yeah, fine. Just didn’t think about how I was gonna cook all of this in time,” he moved away from the stovetop and towards a cupboard to grab you a glass. “Now what would you like to drink? I’ve got some coke, some juice, something a little stronger…?”

“Just water is fine,” you hummed, awkwardly standing by the counter. “Joel, do you want some help? You know, four hands are better than two. And I’m pretty competent when it comes to reading and following a recipe.”

“Please,” he barely let you finish speaking before he spoke, and desperation was practically dripping off his tone as he passed you a glass of water.

You weren’t sure you expected him to say yes, but you were somewhat surprised when he agreed anyway. He didn’t exactly seem like the type to accept help, let alone ask for it. Joel must’ve been even more stressed than you initially picked up on. 

“Of course. What would you like me to do?”

“Uh, if you could just cut up some of the fruit that would be great,” the man ran his hands through his hair as he approached the fridge once more.

You nodded and walked over to the cutting board where it was clear that Joel had begun to attempt cutting some fruit up, but had been interrupted by one of the many pots on the stovetop or dishes in the oven.

Although you didn’t necessarily envision your evening being spent in a frantic Joel Miller’s kitchen, you weren’t particularly mad at it. It didn’t take long for you two to fall into that easy collaborative rhythm that you seemed to always have when it came to working together. Maybe you weren’t too bad of a team after all. 

By the time the doorbell rang with the first family, you and Joel had just finished up, and your daughters had just about finished setting up the table in the dining room and on the patio. Taking you by surprise, Joel reached out for a high-five, which gave you a hearty laugh as the two of you tapped hands.

“I appreciate your help,” he remarked. “You saved my ass tonight.”

By all means, dinner was a success. Parents and children raved about how good everything was, and conversing with Joel and the other parents was surprisingly easy—despite you not noticing the knowing looks that a few of the more gossipy moms frequently shot each other. 

Luckily, a few families assisted in cleaning things up after dinner before heading out, cutting the time you’d need to spend helping with cleaning pretty significantly. As the night wound down, it came as no surprise when Chloe asked if she and Sarah could hang out for just a bit longer. It’s not like an extra hour would kill you, especially not when Joel was pulling out a bottle of white wine and suggesting sitting out on the patio in the pleasant Austin autumn weather. 

As you got settled into your seat, Joel poured you out a glass before pouring himself some. You sighed contentedly, happy with a rather pleasant evening, but tired from the stress of the day. 

“Thank you for helping me out. There’s no way in hell I could’ve done this without you,” he confessed, peering deeply into your eyes. He looked at you for just a moment too long, the attention bringing a warmth to your face.

“I’m always happy to help anyone,” you smiled shyly under the pressure of his intense look before taking a sip of your drink. “Well, maybe I wouldn’t be happy to help Amy. But I’m always happy to help you.”

“Well, I appreciate you,” Joel paused as he drank. “And I wouldn’t help Amy either.”

The two of you shared a little laugh before a rather comfortable silence filled the air. The two of you looked up at the sky, gazing at the stars that seemed to be shining a little more bright than usual.

“I’d like to repay you somehow,” Joel said, breaking the silence as he continued to keep his eyes fixed on the sky. 

“Mm, that’s not necessary,” you hummed. “Dinner was plenty. It was great, and Chloe and I will definitely be enjoying our leftovers.”

“It’s necessary to me,” Joel paused as if he was contemplating even saying the next words. “Would you let me take you out sometime?” 

It was clear that he was looking right at you, nervously anticipating your answer. 

You cracked a slight smile as you turned your head towards him, “That would be nice,” you nodded. “I think that would be really nice.”

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us hbo #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #tlou #tlou hbo #tlou fanfiction #joel miller fluff #pedro pascal x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller imagine #soccer parents au

[theorphicangel]

#1 “you can stay as long as you want.” | miguel x reader

the boyfriend series with miguel o’hara. | series of fluff, angst and smut with bf! miguel.

cw: none, fluffy.

“I still don’t understand how, for the entire movie, he doesn’t catch on that she’s the killer?”

“I know right, it’s stupid.” Miguel hums a a re-run of a classic slasher movie played on the television in front of you.

It was a late Friday night, the both of you were too exhausted from the past week of work to head out for a proper date. So instead you and Miguel settled for a movie marathon at his apartment.

Empty boxes of your favorite takeaway lay disheveled on his coffee table in front of the couch, your stomach fully satisfied with the meal. It doesn’t take much to get your dopamine running, you think. Him and food was all you needed to get yourself happy.

“I think if this shit played out in real life, me and you would have caught onto her in no time.” You note, as the killer on the screen preys onto their next victim.

“Oh, one hundred percent, we’re a dream team.” Miguel stretches out his exhausted limbs, a silent yawn following from his mouth. And as he does so, an arm magically ends up around your shoulder, pulling you in closer to his body.

“Wow. Smooth O’hara, real smooth.”

He smirks. “I try my best, mi amor.”

The two of you fall into a comfortable silence as the movie plays on. Having watched the movie before, you know what’s to come as the rest of the film comes as a total cliche. You can’t help but let your mind wander. Simultaneously, your hands become restless, fingertips fiddling with each other.

“I should head home soon.” You announce, keeping your eyes on the screen ahead.

Miguel hums, his fingertips tracing circles on your arms ever so gently.

You should head home but you don’t really want to. The thought of getting up from this couch is a headache in itself and the thought of driving home at the hour with traffic and dealing with god-awful drivers makes you want to bury yourself into the earth. You really don’t want to head home, but you probably should.

Through the shadow of your expression, Miguel can read the exhaustion on your face. As well as you, he really doesn’t want you to leave. Not when the two of you are so comfortable like this.

“Hey.” Miguel whispers, causing you to turn your head to look at him. “You can stay as long as you want.” He says. “You know that right?”

Your heart swells immediately at his words, a spark of love set off in your body like a sudden firework.

“I know.” You smile before continuing. “But I probably shouldn’t, I have tons of work to catch up and briefs and—”

“But I want you to.”

Miguel doesn’t mean interrupt your work ethic but for the past week he’s been yearning to see you. It’s hard enough that you both have busy lifestyles, meaning that finding time to see each other is rare. Not to mention how far you live away from him. It’s moments like this, when you have to leave, that Miguel just wants to be totally selfish.

So that’s what he’s doing. Being selfish for once.

“If you’re sure.” you confirm.

“I’m always sure.”

You snort to yourself at his comment. “Then why’d you take fifteen minutes deciding what to order earlier?” You nudge your elbow into his side gently, teasing him further.

Miguel rolls his eyes, now more at ease to wrap his large arms around you. “You’re a little alborotadora, aren’t you?” [troublemaker]

“Maybe.” You respond with a playful tone, adding a kiss on his cheek. Your hand moves up to cup his cheek. The action is soft and tender, as if he were the most delicate thing in the world. And you knew he was, especially when he let you into the most intricate parts of his soul. Something that he rarely gave people permission to do.

“Okay,” you murmur. “I’ll stay.”

reblogs are much appreciated! thank you for reading and thank you for being here!

#angel writes #miguel o hara x reader #bf!miguel #atsv miguel #atsv headcanons #spiderman atsv #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel spiderverse #miguel x reader #spiderman astv #spiderman 2099 x you #miguel o’hara fluff #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o’hara drabbles

[writeforfandoms]

Homeward Bound 1

Find the series masterlist

Welcome to my newest wip, because dragons are my absolute favorite fantasy creature. Also, please leave canon at the door, this is a full on fantasy AU we're now entering.

Seriously. I have so much world building already done for this. Come ask me questions.

We've got a bit of a slow burn, dragons, baby dragons, and drama. What more could you want?

Eventual Simon Riley x f!reader

Warnings: Swearing, fantasy au rules, literal dragons.

Word count: 1k

You huffed as, yet again, Kyle and John invaded the nesting area. They had gotten more polite over the last weeks, but still. 

Truly, though, you couldn't entirely blame them. They were both in the group for this upcoming Hatching, and were very eager. John had been passed over last time, and Kyle was new this time. 

You would never tell them, but you had a good feeling for them, for this season. 

“Quiet down,” you told them, stern and no-nonsense, refusing to smile at their silliness. 

“Aw, we jus’ wanted te see,” John wheedled, his northern accent still strong despite his time in the capital. 

You rolled your eyes. “Quietly, then,” you stressed, taking a quick look round. Most of the dragons were still calm, only one or two first timers fidgety and anxious. Good enough. Nothing to fuss over. 

Kyle nodded eagerly, making a face at John. But the two were quick to look around the nests, whispering to each other. 

You just closed your eyes and leaned back in your seat. They'd be fine. And if they weren't, they'd get hissed at. 

Good enough. 

Yawning briefly, you blinked lazily up at the ceiling of the cave, which stretched far above your head. Strategic perches had been hewn into the rock over generations of dragons, giving plenty of spaces above the hatching grounds for the dragons to observe. The seating had been added for humans to observe, long before you. 

In a matter of weeks, the seats would be filled, and the cave would be the site of great joy once again. 

Kyle cleared his throat softly, prompting you to look at him instead of the ceiling. You raised one eyebrow in silent question. 

“You know best,” he murmured with a little smile. “How are they looking?”

“Healthy,” you murmured. “No issues that I can see. It's a good clutch this year.” 

“Good.” Kyle smiled, clearly pleased. “That's good to hear.” 

“You don't have long to wait now,” you encouraged gently, taking pity on the young man. 

He nodded, looking at the nests and the mothers with something akin to awe in his eyes. “Not long,” he agreed in a murmur. 

Your lips twitched in a smile, a little against your will. You had appearances to maintain, after all. “Go on,” you murmured. “Either go say hi to some of them, or go elsewhere.”

He shot you a look, a little startled and a little betrayed, but he nodded. He made the smart choice and went to the silver near you, greeting her. He'd be fine. 

You, instead, looked for John to make sure he wasn't getting into trouble. It took you a moment to spot him, way out by Ilsbet. Rather to your surprise, she had tucked him into her nest. 

Could be first-timer instincts, although most first-time mothers went the other way and drove everyone away from their nests… 

You meandered your way over there, smiling when Ilsbet chirruped at you in greeting, stretching her head out to gently nudge your shoulder. “Hi, sweetheart,” you murmured, scratching under her chin. “You seem to have a pest in your nest.” 

“Oi!” John's indignation was muffled somewhat. 

Ilsbet purred, trying to encourage you closer. Probably so she could tuck you into her nest along with John. 

“No, sweetheart.” You patted her nose. “I can't. We've talked about this, remember?” 

She drooped, massive green body only squishing John a little. He oofed. 

“Oh come now,” you scolded gently. “None of that, hm? Or your rider will insist I'm tormenting you.” 

“Are you not?” The dry question came from behind you. 

You didn't jump, but you did slowly turn to look. Ilsbet's rider was big and broad, blonde hair kept short, the usual fabric covering the lower half of his face. Brown eyes stared at you, impassive and unimpressed. 

“No, Simon. I am not tormenting your dragon.” You kept your tone flat as you spoke to him, none of the teasing warmth you had for Ilsbet coming through. 

Simon grunted once and stepped around you, staring down at John in his dragon's nest. “Out.” 

“But–” John started to protest. 

“Out,” Simon repeated, crossing his arms over his chest. 

John sighed but got out of the nest carefully. Ilsbet didn't even notice, busy purring and chirping at her rider. You did catch a glimpse of four eggs, shells still soft beige flecked with gold. Good. 

You were quick to back off and leave Simon alone. He was notorious for being difficult to get close to, even among the riders. And since this was Ilsbet's first time nesting… Well. You expected him to be extra grumpy. 

But the hatching wasn't that far away now, thankfully. 

You made your way back over to your seat, settling down again. In a little while, you'd check on the mothers, see if they needed anything. See if you could get another count on the eggs. 

But that would be in a little bit. For now, you found Kyle and John, watching them talk quietly. Your gaze wandered back to Simon, taking in the breadth of his shoulders, the way his body language had softened as he spoke to his dragon. 

He did have a heart. You'd known that, of course. You'd been at the hatching when he'd been selected. Dragons didn't select people who were heartless. 

Although how such a sweet dragon had selected someone as reserved as Simon… You would never understand. 

John and Kyle left, and Simon left not long after them. Your domain returned to quiet, the sand warm even through your shoes. All was as it should be. 

You breathed out slowly, eyes drooping half-closed again. This was better. 

Not too much longer until the hatching. 

Not that you went a single day without seeing Simon, as he came in to check on Ilsbet often. It was almost like he didn't trust you. 

Honestly, you weren't sure if it was just you, or if he was just like that in general. After several days of dealing with him, you were inclined to think he was just like that. 

Well. The hatching would be over soon, and then it was unlikely you'd see much of him for three more years.

#homeward bound #dragonriders au #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #f!reader

[cobragardens]

My Favorite Good Omens Moment:

An Essay on Why It Is Cool and Rad (Part 1)

There's this moment in Good Omens that makes me cackle every time I see it and leaves me full of warmth, so here's an essay on its context and meaning, because explication and analysis are how I show love. I will try to keep my thoughts as tight as possible, but they do have a tendency to spiral outwards, and I am very stoned. Come, sistren, and get nerdy with me.

My favorite moment in the series so far occurs in 1601. To approach it we will first need an assload of context. There's a TL;DR in bold at the end of the Context if you don't fancy reading the whole assload. Key arguments are in italics and bold throughout.

David Tennant gives Crowley a very consistent facial expression every time Aziraphale says something so outlandish Crowley can't quite believe he's hearing it. It's this one:

Chronologically, we see the Eyebrows of Disbelief twice before my fave moment in 1601: once (above left) in that scene on the Garden Wall that familiarizes the audience with Crowley's face before adding the dark glasses, when Aziraphale admits he's given away his sword; once when Aziraphale tells Bildad the Shuhite that he, Aziraphale, has Fallen because he lied to the angels to save Job's children.

The Eyebows of Disbelief always signal surprise and amusement with something Aziraphale has said or done. This amusement is sometimes at Aziraphale's expense and sometimes not.

In the gifs above, Crowley is laughing because what Aziraphale has just admitted to doing is fantastic and unexpected and frankly pretty gd punk rock. He's not laughing at Aziraphale, he's laughing because he is delighted with him. The only record we have thus far of Crowley laughing at Aziraphale is this one:

Crowley laughs when Aziraphale informs him--him, a demon who has personally been through the process of Falling--that Aziraphale is Fallen and must be a demon now. As though of the two of them Aziraphale is the expert on how and under what circumstances this occurs.

And yet when Crowley sees Aziraphale's distress--not his fear of being taken to Hell, but his heartbreak and lostness over the fact that his conscience has diverged from God's stated will--Crowley stops laughing, and instead he acts very kindly towards Aziraphale. He validates the gravity of what Aziraphale has done and assures him he won't turn him in. He sits with him so Aziraphale isn't totally alone (like Crowley probably was) as he goes through the loneliest moments of his existence to that point and picks himself up newly weighted with the secret he must now bear.

And after this scene (in canon as it stands thus far), we don't see Crowley laugh at anything Aziraphale says or does again.

And he really has to work for it sometimes. We talk a lot about the things Michael Sheen is able to convey with his face in Good Omens, and absolutely rightly so; David Tennant earns a chunk of his paycheck in this regard as well. If you haven't given yourself the treat yet, rewatch the scene in Will Goldstone's magic shop in 1941 and focus on Crowley's reactions:

Tennant takes great care to show, with precision, that Crowley is expending effort not to react to Aziraphale's nervous chaos Muppetry and lack of self-awareness. Crowley is self- and socially and contextually aware enough that he knows (better than Aziraphale, at least, which is not a high bar to clear) what's cringe, what's funny, what's ridiculous, how to behave. But whenever Aziraphale crosses a boundary of normalcy, or even sanity, and there is opportunity to laugh at him, Crowley very carefully doesn't react. He doesn't interrupt him, he doesn't try to correct him, he doesn't make fun of him, he doesn't even smirk; he just watches him, as stone-faced as he can manage, no matter how bizarre Aziraphale becomes.

We should be reading this lack of reaction to Aziraphale's social and rational transgressions as powerful positive action. Go watch the Doctor Who episode "Human Nature," or literally any episode of The Inbetweeners, or read or watch Regeneration, and reflect on what it shows you about English masculinity; then consider again the depth of significance in how English- and male-coded character Crowley treats English- and male-coded character Aziraphale in an England created by an English and male-codedpresenting author based off a book written by himself and another male-presenting author. Within its context of English masculinity, Crowley's lack of reaction is not a neutral stance; it is a very fucking loud show of support.

This is not even an inference; it's stated outright in the show. Crowley himself puts it into words 422 years after my favorite moment:

You know how Crowley calls Aziraphale "angel" because the factuality of the descriptor offers him plausible deniability to any Heavenly or Infernal agents who might be listening? Remember how Crowley is a great equivocator? Crowley is equivocating here, too: he's using the cover of what Maggie and Nina will take as a disparaging joke at Aziraphale's expense in order to make a perfectly sincere statement. This is his genuine perception of one of the relationship dynamics he has with Aziraphale and how he feels about that dynamic. Crowley thinks he himself is quite witty (an accurate assessment), Crowley thinks Aziraphale isn't sufficiently self- or contextually aware to hide how strange he is and therefore frequently says and does mad things (also an accurate assessment), and Crowley is Into. That. Shit.

Okay. Now let's look at 1601.

Chronologically it's been almost 1,000 years since we last saw Aziraphale and Crowley. In 537, Aziraphale isn't willing even to consider a labor-saving working arrangement with Crowley of fucking off home out of the damp of Arthurian Wessex; but by 1601, he's worked (and met, and Arranged) with Crowley "dozens of times now," Crowley says, and Azirapahle does not correct him.

In that millienium, Aziraphale has grown to care deeply about Crowley:

In fact he may be somewhat smitten with him:

Seriously, go back and watch Aziraphale here as Crowley approaches and starts speaking to him: he doesn't start smiling until he recognizes that the person speaking to him is Crowley (but he only smiles at Crowley while Crowley's not looking at him).

And Crowley is definitely become smitten with Aziraphale:

Our man(-shaped entity) is so allergic to work he sets up a meeting to weasel, cajole, or (as it happens) cheat a coin toss to get Aziraphale to do an easy temptation for him in Edinburgh, and then in the same conversation agrees to miracle a play into success because Aziraphale gives him a single hopeful look. Crowley's got it bad.

TL;DR: The Eyebrows of Disbelief happen when Crowley is surprised and amused by something Aziraphale has said or done. Sometimes that amusement is delight with Aziraphale; sometimes it is at Aziraphale's expense. Crowley is aware of this distinction, and when his amusement is at Aziraphale's expense, he suppresses it, even when it takes some effort on his own part, and remains stocially composed. This is equivocation on his part: to Celestial/Infernal operatives lacking knowledge of the intricacies of human behavior, this non-reaction would seem like neutrality; to Aziraphale, who shares with Crowley and the audience the contextual knowledge of English masculinity's utter viciousness, this non-reaction is a profound show of support; and in the safety of support from Crowley, Aziraphale lets his weirdness blossom.

As another meta points out [link if I find it again], we also see in Aziraphale's wordless request about Hamlet and Crowley's immediate understanding of it that by 1601 Aziraphale and Crowley have developed an unspoken, coded method of communication with each other.

Now that we have all of that in mind, here's my favorite moment in Good Omens:

Ixi of Fuck Yeah Good Omens has even kindly archived a closeup of the aftermath, for Crowley, of "Buck up!" In gif 4, above, you can see that the tiny smile is an involuntary reaction that happens as Crowley's eyes widen: for a fraction of a second, he's caught off-guard. In the closeup it's easier to see that he suppresses the smile and gives a tiny shake of his head, Eyebrows of Disbelief heading for his hairline.

There are a number of things Crowley's reaction could mean and what messages it could communicate (we'll get to that in a sec), but regardless, his reaction is, unquestionably, one of surprise and suppressed amusement. This is an aspect of Crowley and Aziraphale's relationship and characters that I like very much, viz., that one of the reasons Crowley likes Aziraphale (though Aziraphale is judgy and occasionally, unintentionally, horrifyingly cruel) is that in addition to being one of the kindest and most courageous beings in existence, Aziraphale is mad as a bag of frogs. Crowley does not know what is going to come out of Aziraphale's lovely mouth next, but Crowley does know there's a good chance he will struggle to believe he's hearing it, and Crowley likes that.

That's what makes this my favorite moment. What makes this moment so cool and rad, though, is its ineffability. We know from the Eyebrows of Disbelief that Crowley is surprised and amused, but any of several things could be read in that almost imperceptible headshake. Like:

What are you doing? or

Why are you like this? or

How can you be aware that you say these things out loud and yet still say them out loud? or

How has my existence come to this? this moment of listening to such insanity?

each of which is a fair and just feeling to have/message to communicate to a man(-shaped entity) who is yelling "Buck up!" at Hamlet.

But that's only if we read Crowley's amusement as being at Aziraphale's expense. And I don't think we should. Because watch Aziraphale here:

He's doing it on purpose. He is shouting a hilariously inappropriate, 100% authentic Aziraphale-brand thing over arguably the gloomiest passage of Shakespeare's famously gloomy play--right after Crowley complains about its gloominess--and he is watching Crowley as he does it. Look at his smile! He knows he's being Deeply Uncool, and he is doing it literally right into Crowley's face.

Remember that we just talked about how by this point in the chronology Crowley and Aziraphale have learned to communicate with each other nonverbally through facial expression? So what does it mean when Aziraphale responds to Crowley's grumbling about Hamlet's gloominess by smiling his minxious Mona Lisa Aziraphale smile, looking right into Crowley's face, and yelling at Hamlet to buck up? Aziraphale, in a carefully coded, carefully Aziraphale way, is joking with Crowley. His silliness in this moment is for Crowley.

So with aaaaaaallllll of this essay in mind, what does it mean that Crowley's reaction to "Come on, Hamlet! Buck up!" is widening eyes, an involuntary twitch of his mouth toward a smile, and then, his eyebrows still showing surprise and amusement, a tiny shake of his head?

Once more, with inferences:

I do propose, y'all, on the basis of this web of evidence I submit for consideration, that what we are seeing here in my favorite moment of Good Omens is the ineffable equivalent of Aziraphale and Crowley sharing a laugh.

Crowley's amusement here isn't at Aziraphale, because Aziraphale is eliciting that amusement consciously and deliberately. Aziraphale, in good spirits and happy to see Crowley, uses his Aziraphaleness to offers Crowley not only an opportunity for amusement, but the opportunity to be in agreement with him about what in this situation is funny. They're on the same side of this joke.

And his humor lands just as he wants it to: Crowley, just for a moment, is caught off-guard, and tickled--

But remember, Crowley is worried in this scene about being surveilled ("I thought you said we'd be inconspicuous here"), and he worries about audio surveillance a lot ("Walls have ears"; "Don't say that. If my lot hear [etc.]," etc.), so he's very limited in what reactions he can show or voice. Aziraphale knows Crowley must be perceived by anyone watching or listening to disapprove of his, Aziraphale's, behavior (just as he must be perceived to disapprove vociferously of Crowley's). Both of them know this.

--so Crowley suppresses the smile almost successfully, and shakes his head at Aziraphale, minutely, to say Stop. What you're doing is working, you're close to making me laugh, and if I show how much you have just delighted me, it will blow our cover of "just an Arrangement."

I offer three final data points in advancing my argument that what we see in my favorite Good Omens moment is Aziraphale successfully attempting to joke with Crowley and Crowley recognizing that overture from Aziraphale and being momentarily surprised into a reaction of genuine delight before pulling his face back under control and indicating to Aziraphale that he must stop:

Datum 1. Nothing going on with Crowley's face in this moment is accidental. We know for sure we're not seeing David Tennant react to Michael Sheen here not only because of literally every other point of Tennant's and Sheen's performances in the show, but because Tennant is wearing opaque contacts and sunglasses under film lighting and therefore cannot be reacting to anything more compelling than a level-10-lift blur because Tennant cannot see shit. Crowley's reaction is a deliberate and careful performance choice on Tennant's part, and it's underscored by director Douglas Mackinnon's choice to film Tennant in 1/2 profile to keep Crowley's eyes visible and face readable to the audience. This reaction is supposed to be there and supposed to be meaningful.

Datum 2. The husbands in 1601 is not the only moment in Good Omens when we may be seeing an angel and a demon communicate the message Stop doing that, it makes us look too familiar between themselves with a little headshake:

Datum 3: There is another moment in Good Omens when Aziraphale offers Crowley the opportunity to enjoy a joke with him. There, too, his humor lands just as he intends, so we can use this other moment as a comparison to our 1601 moment. I don't have gifs for it, but go back and watch it, S1E6 49:27-42. Snips below.

Aziraphale says something that surprises and amuses Crowley (he asked Hell for a rubber duck while he was sloshing around in the holy water)--

--but what Aziraphale says makes Crowley smile long before it makes him laugh.

In fact, his laugh, though a genuine cackle, is quite delayed, and he laughs only after Aziraphale starts laughing too.

In other words, Crowley's reaction to Aziraphale offering him amusement they're both on the same side of is exactly the same as his reaction to "Come on, Hamlet! Buck up!" right up until he laughs instead of shaking his head. Here, after Armageddidn't, Crowley doesn't have to suppress his reaction, so he can let the smile bloom; he doesn't have to control his response, so, although it takes him a few extra seconds, he lets the smile turn into a laugh.

But in 1601, it's not safe to laugh at Aziraphale's humor. It's not safe even to smile at him. A single piece of evidence or eye/earwitness testimony that he and Crowley have anything more friendly than the most passing and acrimonious of professional relationships could mean death to either or both of them, and depending on what Falling is like, maybe something worse than death for Aziraphale.

But Aziraphale is so funny, so effervescent for Crowley, at Crowley, that it catches Crowley just for a moment. Crowley's eyes widen and the corner of his mouth twitches toward a smile.

And that's dangerous. If Aziraphale keeps acting so charmingly mad, Crowley is going to laugh, and they can't afford that risk, so he shakes his head at Aziraphale. Stop, or I won't be able to keep a straight face around you.

And Aziraphale apparently receives that message, because he immediately eases off. Less than 60 seconds later we learn that he's deeply concerned for Crowley's safety--and that it's not so much that Aziraphale has Crowley wrapped around his little finger as it is that Crowley has wrapped himself around Aziraphale's little finger like a snake arranging itself on the tree branch it calls home.

UPDATE 14/10/23: HOLY SHIT Y'ALL IT GETS EVEN BETTER! THERE IS A SEQUEL!

#good omens #good omens meta #good omens 1601 #good omens microexpressions #good omens headshake #angelfish #aziracrow #ineffable husbands #good omens fanalysis

[syoddeye]

more reading recs

because one post isn't enough. we are hashtag blessed with fic.

as requested, i've highlighted fics with noncon and/or dubcon elements in orange. beyond that, you are responsible for reading tags, warnings, and summaries.

pairings are indicated, although these may change or may not be established yet.

there is no method to this madness, no specific order. these are listed here as my brain remembered them.

i've checked all the links maybe three times, if they're broken, i blame tumblr's formatting.

without further ado...

Slasher Handler by @dragonnarrative-writes - Ghost x Reader

"Simon does serial killer things. What a rascal!" Another fantastically written Simon, with wonderful dashes of Gaz and Price. It's put the term 'romance knives' in my vocabulary. There are many quotable bits and moments that made my blood run cold with how normal the ~situation~ feels, but everything has to be experienced firsthand.

The Far Shore by @deadbranch - Soap x Reader

DB's fic collection is rich, and The Far Shore is no different. I fucking loved Pacific Rim, so when I saw her first mention a PR AU, I did imaginary backflips. DB's Readers are some of my favorites because of how complex and realistic they feel, and when combined with the visceral depth of the neural handshake AND Soap? Compelling. The dynamic between them is fascinating. I almost can't wait for it to be finished so I can go back and dissect it.

Falling into Place by @mortuarywriting

Morg's brought the first COD Isekai AU I've read, like a little treat, with A/B/O to boot. The first chapter hooked me and cracked me up. Their dialogue reads so well, it truly feels like I got sucked into the universe. The panicked ramblings, the over-explanation, the 'oh shit, we don't even have a shared cultural touchstone' moments. I cannot wait for more.

Carvings by @femalefemur - Price x Reader

Cyn's got this amazing thing going on called 'Top Quality Worms' where she takes me by the hand and leads me down a rabbit hole I didn't know I'd find so cozy. Carvings is one piece from her incredible list, featuring a bloody, possessive Captain Price. Somehow, out of this entire piece, Price snapping a pen really did it for me. Did someone say loss of control? Oh no, not my kryptonite!

Under Your Spell by @groguspicklejar - Gaz x Reader x Soap

This fic had me at the pairing tag. Lured me right in. No hope for me, and I'm not mad about it. The way Gaz and Soap play off of each other in Under Your Spell is spine-tingling in more ways than one. The definition of scaroused. Kelsi writes a wonderful Gaz. The first two paragraphs in part two, Split My Skin, describe him perfectly to me.

Chokehold by @ccrites - Soap x Reader

Chokehold is a chef's kiss read. Starts off as a cute and sweet gym read, and uh, well, it does get sweeter, in a way. Without spoiling anything, there is a brief cab ride that made me take a lap before things got really going for Reader. CC's Soap is a delightful tease that is tender all at the same time. I'd join his gym in a heartbeat.

Knight/Princess AU by @a-small-writer-in-a-big-world - Price x Reader

I've read and re-read this AU series a dozen times. It's so gd cute, I might need to see the dentist about how it's rotting my teeth. Seriously, it makes ME want to be a princess. Specifically Price's princess. Bear writes such a sweet and gruff Price, catch me holding a hand over my heart and just sighing. I'm also a big fan of multiple POVs and the insight into each character.

Martyr in the Making by @eilidh-eternal - Ghost x Reader

I had a tattoo touch-up the other day, and while waiting, I thought about this fic: the dream and nightmare of being tattooed by Simon and the rest of the 141. It's a dream for obvious reasons (probably unhealthy for me) and a nightmare because of, well, you'll have to read the story. Getting a tattoo can be such an intimate experience. You put yourself into someone's care and get something permanently etched onto your body. When Reader sits for Simon, you're right there with her, the two of you on an altar.

Liquid Smooth by @cordeliawhohung - Gaz x Reader

Bodyguard!Gaz save me, save me, bodyguard!Gaz. Ugh, Gaz is fucking incredible in every flavor, but there is something that hits different about the guy when he's flexing those 'VIP protection' skills. There are several tiny moments in Liquid Smooth that made me audibly whisper, "God, I wish that were me." If you have a conifer tree allergy, you might not be able to handle the god-tier pining. (I'll see myself out.)

pornstar!Gaz by @cordeliawhohung - Gaz x Reader

Gotta include the series that I drop everything for whenever I see an update. Another fantastic depiction of best man Kyle Gaz Garrick. The charm, the jealousy, the care...My personal favorite installments are Whispers and Threesomes.

plus size puppygirl!reader / Simon & Reader / Punishment by @secretsynthetic - Price x Reader x Ghost

Ghost gets his Captain a puppy, and Synth gives us a tasty Price x Reader x Ghost story. I've linked the intro and a Simon x Reader snippet, but my personal favorite is Punishment. Punishment is a deeper dive into Price the disciplinarian: "how the hell do i get a mutt like you to fuckin’ listen?" I'd gush about it, but again, this is another one to read and experience firsthand. One of my favorite recent explorations of a PriceGhost dynamic.

~~

i'll probably cobble another one of these together in may 2024. my fic backlog is something else. i blame it on all the massive talent. mwah.

#sy fic recs #fic recs #i am a deeply corny person so we're gonna roll with my bad jokes and declarations of love and admiration if that's cool #if there's a typo i'm going to lose it #authors if i've mislabeled please let me know!! #dropping this like a bird at the door and skittering

[makncheese12]

Woe is me

Wednesday Addams x shifter!reader

Summary: Wednesday struggles with her feelings

Warnings: i honestly don’t know, slight angst if you squint, ooc! Wednesday Addams

A/N: the reason I posted so much today is because I probably won’t post much other than a few times so I did a few things last night and finished them up today, I will infact continue to keep updating as much as I can🫶🏻

I’m not really gonna make this into a series but more like HC’s and one-shots cause I really like the whole feel to it and I will be posting a part 3, don’t worry😭 it’s mostly because this whole thing needs a back bone.

You sat on the bench in the quad, your limbs stretched out lazily as she basked in the rare warm sunlight. This was your favorite spot in the school, and you were glad to be able to spend some time here even in your cat form.

Being a black panther was no easy feat, and you had spent many months perfecting your abilities. But sometimes, you just couldn't help but feel helpless, like you were trapped in this form with your own body betraying you.

The way your human body gave out far too quickly from sickness and had to take time to heal was not helping at all either.

You sighed, feeling a pang of frustration at it all. Your fur ruffled as you tried to shift back into your human form, but it seemed that your energy reserves were too low. The transformation process was one that required a lot of concentration, and with your body feeling so depleted, it was almost impossible.

Your eyes began to droop as you drifted off into a small nap, the rhythmic thumping of your — suddenly — tiny heart the only sound you heard. You were almost grateful for the respite, even if it was just for a few moments, as it allowed you to forget about the constant struggle to keep control of your powers.

You didn't know how long you’d been there when suddenly, you felt a loud thud rumple into the ground and your head yanks up on the ready, already being vulnerable in your position.

Noticing it was just a group of werewolves messing around and tackling each other, your small body relaxes, closing your eyes and basking in the sun.

As you continue to rest on the bench, your eyes closed and breathing steady, two gorgon girls begin to approach you, drawn to the adorable cat that appears to be taking a peaceful nap.

"Oh my god, it's so cute!" one of the girls exclaims, pointing at you as she continues to walk towards the bench.

"I know, right?" the other girl replies, her eyes glued to you as well. "Can we pet it? It looks so cuddly!"

Your ears perk up at the sound of their voices, and you open your eyes to see the girls approaching. You suddenly seem to enjoy the attention you’re suddenly getting, tail swaying back and forth as you stand and stretch your back up to prepare yourself for them.

Before you have a chance to protest, one of the girls reaches out and begins to scratch behind your ears and immediately start to purr at the feeling.

As you feels the girls start to pet you, you’re completely relaxes into their touch, loving the feeling of their hands on your fur, and can't help but enjoy the attention they're giving you.

As the first two girls continue to pet you, they're joined by other students, noticing the way the two girls are crouching down by a black fur ball they couldn’t help themselves. Before long, you’re surrounded by a group of people, all of them giving you attention and love.

If they knew you were human, they’d act differently but as of now, you were just a stray cat that occasionally wandered inside their school.

But you don’t seem to mind, in fact, you seem to be eating it up. Your eyes close again, and you can’t help but purr softly, enjoying the feeling of their hands against your fur as they pet and scratch you. You strangely feel safe and comfortable in this moment, surrounded by the warmth of these people.

As the petting zoo group continues to grow, a mixture of amazed students in awe, all drawn to the adorable black cat in the middle of the quad, you can't help but feel a sense of happiness in this moment.

As for Wednesday, she couldn’t stand what she was seeing as she stood there, feeling a strange mixture of emotions wash over her. On one hand, she was feeling a deep sense of protectiveness towards you, a feeling that she had rarely ever experienced before and only reserved for certain people — her family. On the other hand, she found herself feeling a twinge of jealousy, a feeling that she had never been comfortable with or rather no one has.

She had always tried to keep her emotions in check, to maintain a veneer of stoicism and cool detachment that had become second nature to her. But now, as she watched those around her ‘pet’ and coo over it, it was as if a dam inside her had suddenly burst, and all of the feelings that she had been trying to repress were finally starting to come to the surface.

Wednesday knew that she had to do something, to take control of the situation before it escalated out of hand. But she wasn't entirely sure what to do. She knew that she couldn't just let those people keep petting you, but she also didn't want to make a scene and draw attention to herself.

As she stood there, lost in her own thoughts, Enid appeared beside her, her curiosity getting the better of her. "Isn't that the cat that keeps coming to our dorm?" she asked, gesturing towards you, who was still purring and enjoying the attention.

Wednesday's face twisted into a scowl, but before she could respond, she was interrupted by the arrival of more students, all drawn to the adorable black cat. She watched as they continued to pet you, her eyes narrowing as she felt these feelings within her reach boiling point.

In that moment, Wednesday knew that she had to act, to take control of the situation before things got out of hand. She turned to Enid, her voice laced with a sarcasm that she couldn't mask. "Yes, that's the cat," she said, her voice dripping with venom. "And if you don't want to end up on the wrong end of her claws, I suggest you not go and pet her but rather get out of here before things get ugly.”

Enid, unphased by Wednesday's coldness, simply smiled. "Whatever you say, Willa." the blonde says as her eyes travel back to you, on a mission to get through the crowd to pet you herself.

Wednesday rolled her eyes before looking back to you, eyes narrowed as she felt the feelings within her come crashing down around her like a tsunami. She had never been so overwhelmed by her emotions before, and it was a feeling that she didn't know how to handle.

She needed to get away, to get some alone time to process everything that was going on inside her. She turned to Enid, her voice sharp. "I need to be alone right now," she said, her eyes fixed on Enid with a look that she knew would make her not question her and back off.

Without another word, Wednesday turned and stormed off towards her dorm in Ophelia Hall, her boots stomping against the tile as she went. She needed to get away from everyone, to be alone with her thoughts and her feelings.

She knew that she needed to confront the feelings that were eating her up inside, to figure out why they were there and what she was going to do about them. But she also knew that she needed some time to herself before she could even begin to tackle those questions.

As she walked out of the quad, her mind racing with thoughts and emotions, she couldn't shake the feeling that something inside her was starting to change, that the control that she had always had over her emotions was starting to slip away. And that scared her more than anything.

————

You sighed heavily, feeling the weight of Wednesday's silence pressing down on you. You knew that Wednesday was going through something, and you wanted nothing more than to help her, to be there for her. But Wednesday refused to open up to you, she seemed to get like this often so it wasn’t a surprise.

As you watched Wednesday type away on her typewriter with her characteristic focus, you couldn't help but feel a mixture of frustration and concern. You wanted to be there for Wednesday, to help her through whatever she was going through, but it was clear that Wednesday wasn't ready to share her burdens yet. And that’s was made it all the more frustrating.

So, instead, you decided to sit down next to Wednesday's chair and just be there for her and wait, in case she ever decided to reach out and talk. You let yourself be present, focusing on your breathing to not disturb her and trying to stay calm and patient. Even though you desperate wanted to know what was going on, you knew that forcing Wednesday to talk would only push her away further.

As the minutes turned into hours, Wednesday continued to type away, her nose buried in the paper she was typing as her eyes stayed on the letters and paper. You watched her closely, hoping to pick up on some subtle cue that would reveal her thoughts and feelings, but Wednesday's expression remained focused, revealing nothing of what was happening inside her head. Only fueling your concern and frustration. Wednesday always had a blank expression you couldn’t read so it didn’t exactly help.

It wasn't until late at night that Wednesday finally seemed to stop, taking a deep breath and sitting up in a straighter position. You felt a flutter of hope in your heart, thinking that maybe, just maybe, Wednesday was finally ready to share what was on her mind.

But instead of saying anything, Wednesday merely cleaned up her surroundings and put her written pages away, stretching and standing up from her chair. "I'm going to bed," she said, her voice neutral.

You felt a pang of disappointment in your chest, but you didn't want to push it. You knew that Wednesday would talk when she was ready, and you weren’t about to pressure her into opening up before she was ready.

So, instead, you simply nodded, your eyes following Wednesday as she stood up from her chair and made her way to her closet to get ready for bed. You watched as Wednesday closed the door behind her, leaving you alone in the silence of the dorm.

You let out a sigh before getting up and leaving the dorm, perhaps you would be more lucky tomorrow.

————

As you lay asleep in your dorm, there was a sudden sense of unease that settled into her before something pinches your arm gently. You snapped awake with a start, startled to see Wednesday standing over you, her eyes blank as usual.

You lay there, staring up at Wednesday, trying to make sense of what was going on. "Wednesday," you say quietly, your heart racing. "What are you doing here?"

Wednesday didn't respond, just stand there, staring down at you. After what felt like really long moments, Wednesday spoke, her voice low and slightly trembling, something most wouldn’t notice but you were quick to hear it being so used to Wednesday cold and harsh tone.

"I'm confused," she said, her words come out quick as she continues to stare down at you. "I don't understand what I'm feeling."

You felt a pang of concern in your chest, seeing the frustration and confusion on Wednesday's face. "What do you mean?" You ask, keeping your voice gentle.

Wednesday struggled for a moment, as if trying to find the right words. "It's you," she said finally. "It's the way you make me feel."

You felt a shock of something she couldn’t explain as she sat up, realizing that Wednesday was talking about the feelings she had for you, in a way? But Wednesday continued before you could say anything.

"I don't understand what this is," she said, her voice still low. "I don't understand these feelings. I don't know what to do with them. I don't know how to handle them."

You felt a lump form in your throat as you listened to Wednesday open up to you.

You had never seen Wednesday like this before, struggling with her emotions, unsure of what to do for once. It was clear that she had been internalising these feelings for a long time, and now, they were all coming out in a rush.

"It's okay," you tell her softly, reaching out to take her hand. "It's okay to be confused. It's okay to not understand what you're feeling."

Wednesday looked at you, her expression still blank, as if she couldn't quite believe what you were saying. She didn’t understand it after all.

You felt a twinge of sadness at Wednesday's reaction, but you didn't let it show. So you continue to hold Wednesday's hand, hoping to offer her some comfort and support.

"Do you want to talk about it?" You ask, voice gentle.

Wednesday hesitated, and then finally, she nodded, taking a deep breath. "I don't know what's happening," she said, her voice now full on trembling. "I don't know why I feel like this."

You feel your heart ache, seeing the turmoil and confusion on Wednesday's face. You didn’t know how to explain it to her, how to tell her that these emotions were normal and why she was feeling them, this was perhaps a parents job. You didn't have all the answers, but you knew that you could be there for Wednesday, could offer her a listening ear and a supportive shoulder to lean on.

"It's okay," you say again, voice still soft. "It's okay to feel things that you don't understand. It's okay to be confused."

Wednesday let out a deep sigh, and you could see the tension leave her body just a little bit. She was still confused, still struggling to make sense of her feelings, but at least now she knew that she had someone in her corner, someone who cared about her and was willing to be there for her, no matter what.

You knew that this was a turning point in your relationship, that this was a moment that you’d both remember for a long time to come. As you sit there, holding Wednesday's hand, you couldn’t help but smile up at her. Fangs slightly bearing as you rub your thumb gently over her palm.

And then, without warning, Wednesday leaned in and pressed her lips against yours, the kiss soft and gentle. It was a moment that you always had been hoping for, but never quite expecting, as Wednesday had never initiated a kiss before, leaving you to do all the work for her.

You felt a thrill of excitement and wonder wash over you as your lips met, your lips pressed together in a moment of rare and private affection. It was a moment that you would never forget, a moment that would forever be etched in your memory.

As the kiss came to an end you broke away, your heart racing and your mind reeling with the emotions of the moment. You looked up at Wednesday, your eyes bright with gratitude and love.

Wednesday let out a small sigh as you pulled her into bed, a small hint of annoyance lingering on her face. As you laid her down, her crossed her arms over her chest and looked away from you, acting as if she didn't want to be there.

"You should really get some sleep," you say softly, putting an arm over the smaller girls stomach that sends spiders crawling all through out her stomach.

Wednesday let out another small sigh, but this time it sounded less annoyed and more resigned. She tilted her head to the side, leaning into your embrace.

"Fine," Wednesday said, her voice softer than usual. "But I'm still not happy about it."

You chuckled softly. “When are you ever?” You tease only to earn a glare that disappeared quickly as rubbing your macabre girlfriends stomach in a gentle motion. "You don't have to be happy. Just get some rest."

Wednesday closed her eyes, sinking further into your embrace. After a few moments, she took a deep her body relaxing into the bed. You knew there was more than she was letting on but that could wait until the morning, you were just glad she opened up just a little.

A/N: please tell me if you see any mistakes or things that should be worked on!

Tagslist: @raven-ss @devarajah @natashasapphic @pamoresworld @canyonyodeler @paladinncleric @2silverchain

#wednesday addams #wednesday addams x reader #wednesday series #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega #wednesday addams x female reader #Wednesday Addams x you #Jenna Ortega fanfic #Wednesday Addams fanfic

[kalamity-jayne]

Sorry for asking but I am a cis male teenager (well, I thought I was.) but lately I have realized I think I might be a trans girl? I am very scared to drop my masculinity. How did you find out you were trans if that’s okay to ask?

Of course it's ok! I am always happy to help someone who is questioning their gender. However, this is actually a pretty loaded question, because while there is a lot of talk about "when my egg cracked" in trans circles, figuring out you're trans isn't always attributable to any one singular event. Some folks might crack through and emerge from their egg in one swift motion but that is not true for everyone, it certainly wasn't true for me. Sure I could tell about the moment the first crack in my shell appeared, but a single crack in the egg is a far cry from actually breaking out. For many it's a process that can involve a series of revelations and tends to require lots of self reflection and learning how to love yourself. So, there is no quick and easy answer for this. However, I think my story will have a number of different lessons relevant to your question.

Before getting into all that though, I feel I must point out that cisgender folks rarely ask themselves these kinds of questions and when they do entertain these thoughts it's brief and comes with very little agony. The fact you have gone so far as to reach out to trans woman for advice, the fact the you are clearly worried by the prospect of being trans, is a pretty clear indicator that you probably are trans. Regardless of whether you actually are transgender or not, I want you to know that either way, it's ok. You will be ok, no matter what conclusions you come to.

Now, the story of how I figured out I was trans. Bear in mind, the first “aha moment” was 20 yrs ago and things were very different back then. I was about 17yrs old at the time and the term transgender didn't have the currency then that it does now, there wasn't the robust set of terminology that we have today, there were far fewer resources to turn to, no social media, and the overall public opinion was significantly more hostile towards anything LGBT. Anyway, more below the cut.

I didn't follow the typical trans narrative of the time in the sense that, as a child I didn't really care about my clothes so long as my favorite cartoon characters were on 'em, I liked toys typically marketed towards boys, I looked like a boy and everyone referred to me as a boy. So I thought I was a boy. However, I do have a vague memory from early childhood, somewhere between the ages of 4-6, of sneaking into my mother’s room and stealing a pair of her satin underwear and trying it on (it surely would have been too big on me but I remember liking the texture of the fabric) and hiding it under my bed. This memory has since been confirmed during my adulthood by my brother who shared a room with me at the time and had apparently found the hidden stash.

From an early age I was explicitly shunted towards masculinity. I was regularly told to “stop acting like a girl,” and “quit crying like a girl,” and even at one point to “stop walking like a girl,” by my peers and one of my brothers. By the time I was a teenager I was doing my best to be as masculine as possible going so far as joining the highschool wrestling team, a sport that is as homophobic as it is homoerotic, and I hated every minute of it because being manly didn't feel natural to me (and it definitely didn't stop the bullying). It felt like I was trying to ice skate uphill. I fit in but only imperfectly for I was merely acting.

I was also very confused about my sexuality. I thought maybe I was gay or bisexual (turns out the latter) but that didn’t really explain what I was feeling. Around 17yrs old I got curious about transsexuals, thinking maybe the answers would be found there and hoped on to the early and oh so clunky internet. Now I knew of transsexuals conceptually but I didn't know anything about them. Sadly, pornography was really the only reliable way to actually see what a trans body looked like back then. I was stunned because the women I saw did not look at all the way I expected. I was blown away by how so many of them, genitalia aside, looked indistinguishable from cisgender women. And they were all absurdly beautiful. I felt an immediate attraction but there was something else I felt too, envy. And that realization was the first crack in my eggshell.

After that I couldn't get the thought of crossdressing out of my head. So, I dug through a box of my mother's old clothes and took a few items she no longer wore, an old white tennis skirt and a very very 70s sleeveless orange blouse. I was so comfortable in those clothes and when I looked at myself in the mirror I felt good, really good. So, I continued exploring, shaved off all of of my body hair, went to department stores that were open late at night to buy girl clothes (deathly afraid someone would recognize me), I would stay up late at night to watch HBO because at midnight they would occasionally air stuff about trans people, (I remember two documentary shorts in particular and the movie Soldier’s Girl) and I scoured the internet for more information. The internet search brought me to a website called TG list (at least I think that’s what it was called, this was 20yrs ago after all) which was a directory of resources ranging from The Breast Form Store (which still exists!), a myriad of gender identity quizzes (I took nearly every single one), and Susan’s Place.

Susan’s place was one of the few reliable places to hear from actual transgender adults. Unfortunately, while Susan's Place had a lot of useful information the forums there were full of horror stories, a never-ending supply of all the things those women had suffered. So needless to say, there was little to no positivity around transness to give me hope. I was afraid to call myself trans as a result, afraid of what it meant for my life, my future, and my physical safety (you have to remember that back then Mathew Shepard wasn’t old news, his tragedy was practically current events). So I called myself a crossdresser but for reasons I didn't understand at the time I deeply resented that label. I think deep down, no matter how much I tried to deny it and bury it, a part of knew I wanted to be a girl. So when I came out to my parents as a crossdresser and explicitly told them I wasn't trans, that I didn’t have any desire to transition to female, there was that lil voice at the back of my mind calling me a liar. That voice would follow me until my late 20s.

Coming out was a real struggle for me because not only did I think my life would literally be in jeopardy, I thought everyone would think I was making it up, having not followed the stereotypical models of transsexuality. When I came out to my parents they didn't disown me or anything but they were noticeably uncomfortable around me when I was in girl mode. At a certain point I needed their help (credit card) to buy a gaff for tucking and that was when my parents, out of a misguided desire to protect me, pushed me back into the egg. Because of their rejection I spent the rest of highschool and most of my college years trying to hold the egg together with even more denial and by doubling down on masculinity. While I did have some fun during my college years, on balance I was miserable and depressed. I chafed at my male costume and I knew I was lying to myself the entire time, and I hurt myself a great deal.

During my senior year of college I started privately dabbling with crossdressing again, the desire had been nagging at me incessantly. A short time after graduating I met my wife who accepted that side of me and she introduced me to the BDSM/kink community, and the overall culture of nonjudgmental acceptance there cracked the egg for good, because is provided spaces besides my own room where I felt safe being a girl. From that point on I slowly but surely came out of the egg, first calling myself a crossdresser, then genderfluid for awhile, then GENDA passed in NY making me an explicitly protected class and for the next 2 yrs I presented as a they/them genderqueer woman 100% full time without HRT (I was still reluctant to call myself a woman).

I wrestled a long time with the choice to go on HRT. Ultimately that was always a big stumbling block for me. Therapy had gotten me pretty far but I was still afraid of so much and was unsure I would be happy with the changes because my parents had initially rejected me as their daughter in very paternalistic fashion I struggled to trust my own instincts. I still struggle with that sometimes. Eventually, I befriended a trans woman in my neighborhood who pointed out HRT works very slowly and that it takes a long time for any permanent changes to take root. So, she suggested I give it a try and if it didn't feel right I could stop.

I was also taking gender identity quizzes again. Now most of these claim to be diagnostic and those ones a generally misogynistic garbage (they ask stupid questions like, “are you good at math?” and assign a gendered value to the answer) but I happened upon one that started with the disclaimer that it wasn't diagnostic and instead only offered questions that are good to think with. Two questions in particular were very helpful. The first asked, "If you could take a pill that would allow you to wake up tomorrow as a girl, would you take it?" My answer was a hesitant yes, but that yes was bolstered by the next question, "If you could take a pill that would allow you to wake up as a man, in your current body, but without any dysphoria or desires to be feminine, would you take it?" My answer was an emphatic no because that would have felt like killing an important part of myself off. I then at the age of 33yrs old started HRT and 4yrs in I am incredibly happy. That was one of the best decisions I have ever made.

Now, I know that was a lot of fucking text to read but I wrote all of that because I know the prospect of maybe being a trans girl feels scary to you right now but I want to assure you that as daunting as it may seem there is so much about being a trans woman that is full of beauty and joy. I love my trans womanhood and despite the hardships, I wouldn’t give it up for anything. In fact the opposite is true. Knowing what I know now, I would give up almost everything in order to be a woman. So if you feel like you want to give girlhood a try, do it! You can take small incremental steps and you can always stop if it doesn’t feel right, either way you will gain a degree of self knowledge most cisgender people lack completely and that is absolutely priceless! Plus, unlike me when I was a teen, there’s all kinds of resources and information available to you now and an entire community of people ready to help you, and unlike the women in the forums from my past, we aren’t all gloom and doom.

As for your fear of giving up masculinity, don’t let that fear lure you into the denial trap like it did me. Denial is like quicksand, once you’re in it becomes hard to get out, the more you struggle the deeper in you go and it is so very suffocating. And the thing is, you actually don’t have to give it all up. Back when I was presenting full time as woman without HRT, I felt like I had to be ultra feminine all the time, full face of make-up, dress, heels, the whole nine yards. Now that I’m 4 yrs in with HRT I don’t feel that pressure anymore and have since reclaimed certain aspects of masculinity I actually liked. I sill like presenting high femme from time to time but these days I mostly rock a soft butch aesthetic, flannel/t-shirt, jeans and the only makeup I wear daily is just a lil bit of blush. At certain point you become comfortable and realize that gender is just a sandbox to play in and experiment. Masculine and Feminine are just concepts, they aren’t real! so regardless of being cis or trans, don’t let those mere concepts box you in! Just do what feels natural and right to you!

I hope all of that was helpful to you anon, and that at the very least you walk away from this knowing you don’t have to have all of the answers about yourself right now. Now, I don't no the particulars of your situation, so I’m happy to speak with you further if you have follow up questions, just send another anon.

Best of luck to you anon, I am rooting for you!

Big hugs,

Mother Calamity

#advice from a trans mom #Transition #HRT #Transgender #cracking the egg #ask/answer #anon #mother calamity!

[vidavalor]

*dings the bell* … I’m back.

My Ukrainian friend made potato salad! It has cucumbers, carrots, onion, & canned green peas in it, and it’s absolutely delicious!

Sooo… can I ask what moment/scene you found the most devastating so far? I guess The KissTM is the most popular but I wonder if you’ve spotted something even more heartbreaking?

Hi @procrastiel Much love to you and your Ukrainian friend & please thank her again for me for the recipe as we made it and it was delicious. 💕Hope she's doing well. The KissTM is pretty heartbreaking for sure but I had a couple of moments that I found at least equally as heartbreaking...

The blues below the cut. TW: Depression.

What really got me in S2, in terms of heartbreaking stuff, was the focus on the less "showier" kinds of depression in Aziraphale and Gabriel. I'm not dismissing the amazing Crowley story the show has been telling but it tends to be more overt. The story focusing on depression lingering beneath different types of exteriors-- those who project themselves as being upbeat and/or fine-- was really well-executed and it had moments as devastating to me as the kiss.

The "but that's for professional conjurers only" scene and, in particular, the choices made in Aziraphale's response to Crowley's "my Nefertiti-fooling fellow" response is probably my favorite bit of acting in the series entirely to date. Michael Sheen broke me into little pieces with the way he conveyed a lifetime of pain, depression, anxiety and sleepless nights in Aziraphale's eyes on the "professional conjurers" bit and the smile...

...I love how you literally watch the pain of it all melt off his face at Crowley gently reassuring him and the smile that starts and then becomes just a beam of love he can't keep off his face. It's gorgeous.

It's actually what makes The Final 15 hurt even more, really, I think-- because you know that this is what Aziraphale needed. It's the same core set of problems but he needed 1941!Crowley and he got AlphaCentuari!Crowley because of where they both were at in the moment. It just makes 2.06 even more brutal because it shows you how they do understand each other and how right they are for each other if they could just stop being idiots lol.

I also actually think this is one of the most intimate scenes in the show. It shows a lot of guts on Aziraphale's part to be honest about how he's feeling and that's courage that Aziraphale has in general but was lacking a bit in the present in S2. He lets Crowley in here-- which is the theme of all of it and what he's not doing in S2 very much, especially in 2.06-- and we get a scene where Aziraphale is vulnerable and hurting and trusts Crowley with it and Crowley is there to help him as much as Aziraphale helps Crowley. It's very sweet and romantic but in a heartbreaking way because of how it shows how much pain Aziraphale is carrying around with him all the time. The lovely bit, though, is how it also shows how Crowley knows and is trusted with it. That it all takes place in largely the same space as the mess in 2.06? Gah. Devastating...

The other storyline that broke me was Gabriel. I know not everyone has the empathy for him that I do and he can be a total jerk, no doubt, but I thought he was the best example of the show bringing in other perspectives on life in Heaven/Hell in S2. We had angles like Furfur and Muriel illustrating that life for those not on Earth is lonely, isolating and boring and that many are yearning to live a bit more. Crowley and Aziraphale have not had it easy by any means but we are given characters whose perspective is that they're jealous that Crowley and Aziraphale have at least been able to be on Earth and have one another this whole time, which is more than a lot of other angels and demons can say, and that's fair. Expanding upon the glimpses of Gabriel that we saw in S1 and showing that, really, he's more complicated than we might have expected, was something I both loved and was a bit broken by.

Essentially, S2 shows that Gabriel is actually arguably the worst off character of all of them-- Crowley and Aziraphale included. That he really had no one until Beez is shown on his face so well-- Jon Hamm and Shelley Conn selling Gabriel's depression and how healthy this relationship is in almost no time at all really shows how great they both are. Look at this poor bastard, though, really...

He has the worst job of all of them. The Metatron is really in charge of Heaven-- Gabriel's the pretty face, forced to keep everything going or be killed for disobeying. S2 emphasizes how much he and Beez did what they did at the end of S1 basically at gunpoint-- it was kill or be killed and neither of them have the power to overthrow anything on their own. They have enough power, in the future, to probably help sway some things. Gabriel's always had enough power to make differences where he could and he used it to try to protect people. He can be a judgy jerk but he also fundamentally cares about the people around him and he's been drilled for so long into believing that upholding Heaven is his only purpose and only reason for existence that he's even still mulling over the ghosts of those thoughts when he has his whole gravity crisis in S2, even when he can't remember his name.

This is the bit that got me actually teary, though:

Imagine being thousands of years old and no one's ever given you a present. You don't have a birthday. You don't celebrate holidays. No one's ever protected you or been on your side or even just listened. You don't have any friends because everyone is afraid of you and you have to put up those pretensions to stay alive. The people you spend your entire life with are out for blood-- they'd sooner see you stripped of your sense of self and tossed through the ranks or to Hell and take your seat. Your life is one, long, never-ending meeting with your abusive dad and charming personalities like Michael and Uriel and Sandalphon. For six. thousand. years. Gabriel had never eaten anything before S2. He's never slept. Imagine six thousand years of being the Senior VP of Climb Every Bullshit Mountain without ever having a lunch break or ever going home. It's kind of no wonder that Gabriel spent half of S2 taking a nap-- he's exhausted.

He's not from anywhere. He doesn't even have a desk. Is it any wonder that this poor bastard was already rebelling a bit in S1? That he didn't totally get Earth but he was sneaking down there to get tailored suits made just so he could have something that is his own and taking himself for jogs in the park so he could get away from everyone for awhile? He's vain, sure, yes, but really because his looks are all he has that actually belong to him. It's why Beez gives him a pass on the statue-- because they know that this poor guy doesn't have anybody but them. The humans immortalize him in marble like he's a God and everyone in Heaven and Hell is terrified of him-- and he's been terrified of trying to be real with others because who is he going to trust who won't stab him in the back?

All Gabriel has that is his own are his clothes and Heaven even takes that, too. Beez is the first person who has ever seen Gabriel as a person. Is it any wonder why Gabriel likes and goes to Aziraphale for help? He knows that Aziraphale is the only angel who is both kind and sorta sees him there sometimes. He's the only one who ever seems to consider that Gabriel might exist in there as more than just The Supreme Archangel.

Gabriel's memory loss is actually very much akin to the real world occurrence of retrograde amnesia, which can and does actually happen to people who have undergone traumatic events. (It doesn't happen all the time but it's also not as rare as you'd think it might be.) The mind shuts down in such a way as to intentionally forget everything related to the trauma in order to protect itself and that can sometimes result in a loss of identity. The forgetting, though, also frees Gabriel because when he can no longer recall the fascist system of Heaven that has been harming him for so long, the actual self that he's been repressing and hiding shows up.

I see a lot of people talk about Jim as if he's a separate entity from Gabriel and he's really not-- he's Gabriel without the self-protective airs that Gabriel puts on. Jim is really not much different from glasses-free Crowley-- they have the same approach to self-preservation. It turns out, when he's free from the toxic masculinity hellscape that is Heaven, Gabriel likes hot chocolate and tiny dinners and bookselling and is emotionally available and mindfully curious about everything. He's a lot of fun and he cares about his friends and is grateful to have them. He's still a snarky bitch sometimes but so is Crowley lol so... That Gabriel was so miserable before, though, I thought was really pretty heartbreaking.

Now that I've depressed you, we'll leave on the sweeter note of Gabriel torturing some humans to romance Beez...

#ineffable husbands #good omens #crowley #aziraphale #good omens 2 #aziracrow #good omens meta #the archangel fucking gabriel #jimbriel #lord beezlebub #ineffable bureaucracy

[angxlofvenus]

A Shoulder To Cry On

Requested By: @saturnsapothecary Genre: Hurt/comfort Ship: The brothers x reader TW: Mentions of crying, distressed reader, physical contact, Undisclosed stressful situation, soft characters, angst tbh Word count: 1,107 An: Hi! What you are about to read is probably the most angsty thing I have written thus far. I joke a lot in my other writings but in this one I went with a more somber approach, mostly bc I listened to Mitski while writing this entire thing, Anyway, Heed the TW, and Happy reading ♥️

Pt. 2 can be found here (Dateables+Luke edition!)

It had been a rough week, 'Thankfully it's Friday' You thought, Climbing up The HoL staircase as you felt yourself start to break, By the time you had reached your room- all you could do was walk in, close the door, and start crying, collapsing onto the floor, Not hearing the door reopen and a certain demon pop his head inside...

Lucifer

Immediate concern, What has happened? 

He makes a bee-line toward you, kneeling infront of you.

Will rub soft and slow circles into your back as you start to calm down

Once he knows nothing is currently threatening you in any way, He would lead you to his bedroom (Not like that, get your head out of the gutter)

Will offer you a beverage as you sit on his bed, You don’t have to talk to him but…He is here for you and he needs you to know that.

If you want physical comfort, He will sit on his bed, gather you up into his arms and start to rock the two of you, His body crashed against yours like gentle waves, Pulling you in and then pushing you back out.

If you don’t wish to be touched, He absolutely understands either way. He hopes his soft-spoken words of comfort will help you.

He gets it, He feels nonstop worry and exhaustion from his many duties, He strives to make the Devildom a happy place for you but he knows he can not always insure that, But let him try to fix what has plagued you.

Mammon

When he finds you crying he feels horrendous and angry, Not at you of course! Just-

He’s supposed to be your first man, The guy you can find solace in no matter what! But looking at your tear-stained face he can’t help but feel like he’s failed you in a way 

He will do everything in his power to help you though, He may have not been there to stop this all from happening but that doesn’t mean you have to go through this alone!

Ask and you shall receive, No complaints! Anything you want that will make your grief lessen, He’d do it for you.

He isn’t the best speaker but he’ll start shooting off at the mouth about how much he cares about you and how he hates seeing you like this- Please let him help, In any way he can. 

Levi

Panic, He can barely handle himself- Let alone another person!

With shaky hands he will put a hand on your shoulder before looking at your reaction, 

If you want Physical comfort, he will slot himself beside you, not outwardly touching you, just kind of leaning onto you

If not, His hand retracts rapidly as he instead sits across from you

Either way, He’ll quietly ask if you want to talk about it, After your done talking/You tell him no- He will invite you to his room where you all spend the rest of the night watching your favorite animes/series

He knows he can’t take away all of your pain, But he hopes he can atleast put some nicer things in your mind

Satan

Brows furrowed, He takes quick but cautious steps toward you, almost like he would a cat.

The first thing that comes to his mind is anger, “Are you okay? Who did this?” He will ask you as softly as he could.

When he finds out what has happened, He will feel the surge of anger come back to him, Not at you- never at you, But at the world. He hates how powerless he feels in these moments, knowing there is nothing for him to solve.

So instead he does what he knows how to do, He takes you through breathing exercises and ways to help you calm down, He has spent centuries managing his anger so he has learned a thing or two-

Will talk you through your worries if you wanted before walking off, Only to then bring back your favorite book with him. He reads to you in the same soft voice you have grown to love, He knows he is only one demon but that doesn’t mean he won’t try to take the weight off your shoulders.

Asmo

His first thought is to swarm you, Asking questions, giving hugs, wiping away your tears- the whole nine yards

But he won’t. He knows how to respect boundaries no matter what, So he pushes down the feeling, instead dropping to his knees infront of you and asking what’s wrong.

If you want a hug or a shoulder to cry on he is their the second it comes out of your mouth, You don’t have to pretend with him, not ever- He won’t think badly of you for anything you vent to him about- He is there for you no matter what, Through thick and thin.

Only if your feeling up to it ofcourse, He’ll lead you to his room and bring out his ‘self care box’ The ice mask he lays across your face washes away the remnants of your tears as his hand cards through your hair

Beel

Drops all of his snacks in a flurry to get to you.

Unlike the others, He is looking for injuries- So your personal bubble is feeling a little violated

Once you tell him you are physically fine, His shoulders relax some and he takes a step away from you and says that he’s sorry for running up on you like that.

Gentle giant mode activated, Is gonna talk to you like he does Belphie, Asking what’s wrong and how he can help.

He feels so much responsibility for you, As he does all of his family, And is so crushed that he can’t go back in time and help you

He starts to think about what makes him cheer up and asks if you’d want to go to Madame Screams with him, If yes then he would put in all of his effort to making you forget all of your troubles

If no, He get’s it! Sometimes he doesn’t wanna go out either, He’ll just offer to go and pick up whatever you like from anywhere, No matter what! 

He wishes he could do more but sharing a dessert with you sounds like a good start.

Belphie

Blinks twice, Trying to see if he was seeing things right

Will make his way over to you in confusion, “Hey what’s wrong?” 

You decide whether you actually tell him or not, he’s chill either way- He understands why you would and wouldn’t want to talk to him about it

He isn’t the best at comforting but he does what he can, He’ll move y’all to your bed and will even give you his special cow pillow

Will start talking about random things, anything and everything- Letting his voice will you to sleep, Making sure that all of your dreams are nothing but happy days, Days he’d hope to make a reality soon.

Hey! Fancy seeing you here, I get that this post was a little heavy on the feelings, I just wanted everyone out there to know that You are not alone- No matter what you are going through and that my Dms and inbox are always open if you need to vent or just to talk in general, My blog is a safe space to anybody who needs it 🖤

#obey me #obey me nightbringer #obey me one master to rule them all #obey me x reader #self ship #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me mammon #obey me satan #ao3 #obey me leviathan #obey me lucifer #obey me belphie #obey me angst #hurt/comfort #angst #obey me hurt/comfort #the demon brothers #obey me x gender neutral reader #obeymexreader #janus'writings #janus’asks

[novafire-is-thinking]

So I was wondering for a long time what would canonically happen if a human stayed inside a Cybertronian while they transformed. I came across two pages in IDW comics that mostly answered my question:

However, would this apply to all other Transformers or does it only apply to those with the same body type as Bumblebee or only Bumblebee? Does the alt mode have anything to do with this? Would the transforming noise be louder or muffled from the inside?

It definitely depends on the bot’s body type and alt mode. It probably depends on the show and continuity too.

Prime

In the second episode of Prime, Miko forgets to grab her guitar before hopping out of Bulkhead. It ends up somewhere in his “subspace”:

Notice how she says “back seat.”

In the IDW panels you sent, Bumblebee shifts his passengers to his back seat before transforming.

This tells me that, when a Cybertronian with a car mode is transforming from alt mode to root mode, people and items are probably safer and/or more comfortable if they’re in the back seat.

A couple of episodes later, it’s discovered that Miko tagged along without Bulkhead realizing it. Twice:

In the moments leading up to this part, Bulkhead is seen launching from the ground in alt mode and transforming to his root mode midair to grab onto a rocky cliff side. Miko was inside the entire time and survived, although she definitely suffered for it.

What about root mode to alt mode transformation? What would happen then?

Well, in season 3, Miko does what she does and ends up inside of Wheeljack’s subspace:

It’s never shown whether WJ first transformed to alt mode to let her hop in or if he just opened up his chest and dropped her in. My guess is the latter since, on the way out of the hangar to the ship, Magnus and Bulkhead weren’t far ahead of him when she asked if she could come. They probably would have noticed him switch to his alt mode, which neither Wheeljack nor Miko wanted.

The thing is, did he think before dropping Miko inside?

I doubt that he did, but these are the questions I would have:

Since combat might require split-second transformation, did he drop her in knowing she would survive an emergency transformation to his alt mode? (Unknown)

Did he tell her in which part of his subspace she’d be most comfortable in case he had to transform to his alt mode? (Probably not)

Was his plan to let her out in Magnus’ ship before going outside? (Maybe)

So, in TFP, The safety and comfort of a human inside a bot going from car mode to root mode is unknown.

Unfortunately, I have nothing I can go off of for fliers.

Rescue Bots

Several times throughout the series, the human members of the rescue team ride inside their partners’ chests when they switch to and from their alt modes. It’s safe and comfortable. They even get nice seats. lol

Barring the fact that this is a kids show which requires this feature, I wonder if the bots were able to choose this for their human partners or if they just made sure to scan alt modes with that particular type of subspace.

It would definitely be interesting to know if Cybertronians have the ability to choose which insides and kibble go where when first scanning an alt mode…

Anyway—

Rise of the Beasts + Bayverse films

RotB gave us a golden glimpse of Cybertronian transformation abilities.

Behold…one of my favorite parts of the movie:

Originally, I was going to use the AoE clip of Optimus scanning his new alt mode and transforming around his human passengers, but this clip works better. It’s an excellent display of what a Cybertronian body is capable of.

With more than a handful of distinct alt modes, Mirage appears to be a special case. I mean, the guy can literally separate pieces of his body to give to others and become an armored suit for a human.

Can all Cybertronians do that? I have no idea. When’s it my turn to be lovingly wrapped in living metal armor? Hm?

Looking at both AoE and RotB, Cybertronians appear to have the ability to move individual parts (within limits).

It would make sense if all bots could at least do what Mirage does in the above clip, if nothing more than that.

This is incredibly useful when transforming with human passengers.

Now, to answer your last question (finally):

The noise level inside a bot during transformation would depend on which parts are being moved and how much shifting is taking place. Cosmetic shifts would be muffled since they’re happening outside, but if parts surrounding the human(s) are being shifted, it’s going to be loud and clear to the passenger(s).

Movies are almost never a good way of determining realistic noise levels, but in the clip with Mirage and Noah, things don’t sound muffled at all.

#sorry this took so long! #I have been…occupied #cybertronian anatomy #cybertronian physiology #transformers prime #tfp #rescue bots #rise of the beasts #rotb #nova’s nerding out again #gifs by nova #long post

[heartfeltcierra]

Donquixote Doflamingo X Female Reader NSFW "Daydreams of Dressrosa"

Anon-I noticed you have a request box. I just wanted to say your writing is 🤌🏻 *chefs kiss*. I wanted to request something angsty and maybe even smutty with Doflamingo. I’ll let you decided if it end fluffy or not. I knows he is problematic and controversial as hell (I can fix him) But if you don’t write for him I completely understand! Thank you and have a amazing day my beloved heartfelt!

AN-So I totally took this and ran with it lmao. I just recently finished the Dressrosa Arc and I find Doflamingo to be a interesting character. This was a welcomed challenge for me. I've never written for a villian before and It's been a hot take since I've written smut. With that being said it's also the dirtiest thing I've ever written. I ran laps around my house just writing this. But thank you for reading my work and I hope you enjoy this my beloved anon :)

Masterlist

Side note- As always this story is plus sized reader friendly!

Word Count- 7.5k

*Any thing in italics is readers thoughts or a flashback. *

!Trigger warning! The relationship between Reader and Doflamingo is extremely toxic with emotionally abusive undertones, please never let anyone treat you like this.

~NSFW Warnings/Content~ Dom Doffy/Sub reader, PWP, Pre established situationship, A tiny speck of pet play, Doffy misuses his devil fruit powers (Spoiler alert he makes a clone.) Humiliation, Name calling (Slut, whore etc) , Reader is slapped once, Spanking, Degradation, Oral Sex (Fem giving and receiving) Fingering, Implied squirting and use of reward system. I tried to stay true to Doflamingo's character, but he may be OOC in some parts!

   From the moment you woke up to a quiet and peaceful palace, you immediately knew something was up. You asked one of the guards where everyone was and much to your surprise Doflamingo and the top executives have gone out to a meeting. And according to him,  they won’t be back until dark. It’s very rare for all of them to be gone at the same time, but you're thankful. It’s been a long time since you've had any alone time, so you were going to make every moment count. 

  You’re currently in the courtyard pool floating around on the huge blow up flamingo Doffy bought a while back. No one ever uses it considering most of the family have devil fruit abilities and aren’t willing to risk falling into the water. So you’ve laid claim to the giant pink float. You’ve even given it the nickname “Mini Master.” 

 “Now let’s get down to the real fun.” You smirk before pulling out a book from your favorite romance series called “Daydreams of Dressrosa: a collection of love stories from the kingdom of passion”. You read them in secrecy. The only other person who knows is Baby 5, her being the one who sneaks them to you. You knew if Doffy found out about them, he’d probably be pissed, saying something to the extent of “What can a book offer you that I can’t?” And the answer to that was simple. Romance and love. The two things he would never be able to offer you. It’s sad, but nonetheless true. 

 You open the book and turn to where you left off on story #17 titled “Carnivals and Carnations”. The couple in the story are going to a carnival as a first date. The story was super cheesy, but you're living for it. You squeal when the guy puts his jacket around the girl's shoulders because she is cold. It’s funny how something so simple causes your heart to swoon.  But your favorite part so far was him winning her a stuffed bear from one of the game stalls. You can’t help but think of Doffy doing something like that for you, no doubt you’d walk away with every stuffed animal and trinket you wanted. But how Doffy would win them is the part you find funny. He’d probably use his devil fruit ability to ‘Win’ (Cheat)  or he’d scare the person running the stall until they gave up everything. It brought a bittersweet smile to your face. The poor hopeless romantic in you still hasn’t accepted her fate. Once you got stringed in with Doflamingo, any chance of you experiencing sweet and innocent love was thrown to the wind. 

 You can’t help but be jealous of the girl in the story. When you were a teenager you dreamed about finding a man who would love you and treat you like a princess. Now here you are as an adult and plaything to a criminal. You knew he was bad, you knew he had done horrible things. But something about him lured you in. Tears trickle down your face and onto the pages below. You yearn for the impossible from him. But it’s Doffy, and he will do whatever he wants, when he wants and without even thinking about anyone else. You know this better than anyone. 

 ~Flashback~

 “Doffy, can I ask you a question?” You pulled your sore and sweaty body from the bed. Doflamingo was in the middle of putting his shirt back on,but stopped when he heard your hoarse voice call out.

 “Well would you look at that.” Doffy seemed to be amused, smirking at your trembling form. “My little girl didn’t pass out after all. I was almost certain you would, considering how hard I was on you.” You were on the brink of passing out from his rough treatment, but you clung to consciousness. “For that I’ll answer your question. Go on.” 

 “Well I guess it may be more of a favor, but.” Your mind and heart raced even more than it did earlier. All because of what you're about to ask him. “Do you want to shower with me and maybe we can cuddle together for a while after? I know you're busy and I won’t take up much of your time, just a few minutes I promise!” You watched Doffy’s smirk disappear, replaced by one of  his more disapproving looks, causing your heart to drop.

 “You want me to shower with you and stick around for “cuddles”?” You muster the strength to  nod at the man. His lips curled into a wicked smile before he laughed in your face.  “What a joke. Do you think I have time for something so stupid? Never ask for something like that again. Got it?” You couldn’t stop the tears that flowed down your face at his cruel words. His large hand reached out and grabbed your face, giving you no choice but to look at him. “Speak girl.”

 “Yes. I- I’m sorry Doffy.” Your cringe at how your words struggled to come out through the small sobs. Times like that reminded you how cruel Doflamingo was. Your heart shattered into a million pieces. 

 “Good.” He released your face and without another word, walked out of the room as if nothing happened. To him it probably was nothing. Your body fell against the bed as a few remaining tears slid down your face. Your hands snaked around one of the spare pillows on the bed, in search of the comfort you so desperately needed that night.

~Flashback end~

 It had been weeks since that night and not once has Doffy come to your room for a “session”. The more you think about it, the more uneasy you become. It’s unlike him to go that long without sex. Maybe he’s getting bored with you or maybe he’s getting it from someone else. Both of those thoughts stung. At the end of the day, you're just another woman at his disposal.

 You look into the sky and see the colors changing with the sunset. You didn’t have much time left before the family would return. A small sigh leaves your lips as you open your book again. Now where was I? The couple were now riding on a ferris wheel.  The man wrapped an arm around the girl's shoulders, causing her to scooch closer to him. The ferris wheel came to a halt, leaving them at the very top. They admired all the lights and the way the sun was barely peeking over the horizon. Their eyes locked onto each other. You can’t help but giggle knowing what’s about to happen. The man gently cupped her cheek as he slowly moved his lips towards her. Her eyes closed as his lips barely ghosted over hers. A small tug on the float causes you to close your book. Before you had a chance to investigate the cause, the float was pulled out from under you. Your body tumbles into the cold water alongside your book.

 “Fufufu~.” You hear Doffy’s muffled laugh as you swim back up to the surface. You cough up a little water you inhaled as Doffy continued to laugh. Judging from the way his fingers were bent, he was the one who knocked the float over. “Did the mouse have fun while the cat was away?” Your eyes roll at his snarky comment. You want to splash water on the cocky warlord, but you also want to live long enough to finish your book. Wait, the book! You frantically swim around the pool until you notice it sitting at the bottom of the pool. You take a deep breath in before diving to get it. You emerge once again holding the soaked book.

 “Well the “mouse” was having a fine day, until you destroyed its book.” You hold the book up and watch as the pool water drips from the pages. “And I was getting to the good part too.” You mumble the last part. 

 “Good part?” A wild smirk forms on Doffy’s face. With a flick of his left index finger the book was snatched from your hands and right into his. “What page was this “good part on”?” You watch as he skims through the book. 

 “112.” You swim over the edge of the pool and watch him read the page. For a man like Doflamingo, the scene will be underwhelming and quite boring. For a moment you think he was getting interested in the words, but it was short lived.  With a wet smack he closes the book and tosses it to the ground. You frown knowing the book will be unreadable by time the water sets in and blurs the words. I guess I’ll never know how it ends….

 “So that’s your definition of a good part?” You gave the man who was now towering over you a small nod. “When did my little slut become so vanilla?” Heat rises to your cheeks despite the cold temperature of the water around you.

 “I just thought it was cute. That’s all.” You let your body sink into the water in an attempt to avoid his gaze but your body stills. 

 “Trying to run away are we? Do I need to put you in your place Y/N?” You feel his strings loop underneath your arms. His left and right index fingers lift up causing your body to come out of the water in one motion. A shocked gasp leaves your lips as you fly out of the pool water and into the cold evening air. You sometimes forget that no matter how big you are, Doffy can and will treat you like a rag doll. You land rather ungracefully in front of the Blonde. Goosebumps rise onto your wet skin, but you're unsure if it’s from the cold air on your wet body or from the aura radiating off the man above you. 

 You peer into Doffy’s sunglasses and see your shivering body looking back. Your arms cross in front of your body in a sad attempt to warm up. You expect to see a sadistic smirk on his face, but you're met with an expression you’ve never seen on him. It makes you a little anxious not knowing what he’s thinking about or feeling. It dawns on you that he knows you read romance novels now, meaning he was most likely not very happy with you at the moment. 

 “I’m sorry If I upset you, Doffy. I promise I won’t read books like that anymore.” You try to diffuse the situation but it’s too late. His hand raises into the air. A sense of fear washes over you, causing your body to tremble even more. You feel a rush of wind in front of your face causing your eyes to slam shut. You tensed up preparing for the impact.. But it never came, instead the smell of his expensive cologne invades your nostrils as warmth engulfs your body. You let your eyes flutter open to see that he placed his pink feather jacket around your frame. It takes a while for your brain to process it. The cold, unloving and emotionally unavailable Donquixote         Doflamingo did something…. nice?   

 “Thank you young master.” He never lets anyone wear his jacket, NEVER. You wrap the jacket around your body more to enjoy its warmth. 

 “I was getting annoyed watching you shake like a pathetic little leaf.” He retorted with a scowl. “Now. Why don't I show you what a 'good part’ is supposed to be like.”  He points a finger at your neck, causing a string to connect to your flesh like a leash. He gives the string a firm tug, sending you to the ground on your knees in front of him. “Spread.” His commanding voice sends excitement through your veins.

 “Yes sir.” You move your knees apart as far as you can. The course ground below dug into your knees, but you didn’t care. As bad as you hate to admit to yourself, you’ve missed this and you’ve missed him. 

 “Good, now look at me.” You crane your head back in order to look up at him. Your body feels like it is shrinking as the10 ft tall man looms over you. Your mind goes blank when you feel the pointed tip of his shoe moving up and down your swimsuit covered pussy. “I’m going to cut you a deal so listen up.” His shoe puts extra pressure on your clit, causing a moan to escape your lips. “If you can be a good girl and do everything I say without question, I will give you a reward.” His foot retracts much to your dismay. But the mention of a reward entices you.

 “I will, I promise sir!” And just like that, you submit yourself to him. 

 “You will or else.” Doffy began to walk away leaving you to crawl behind him. You're thankful the steps he took were a lot smaller than normal, otherwise you’d have a hard time keeping up. It dawned on you how embarrassing the situation was. Here you are crawling around on all fours with Doffy’s jacket on. I probably look like a poodle. 

  You got lucky and didn’t run into any family members while Doffy paraded you around like the loyal lap dog you are. A couple of guards saw you, but they didn’t dare to say a word knowing Doflamingo would kill them on the spot. The door to your room was finally on site, but he walked past it. Your bedroom is the only place he agreed to do the deed in. It gave him the freedom to come and go as he pleased. You know better than to question him, but you're still curious as to where he’s taking you.

 “You’ll find out soon enough.” Doffy answers as if he read your mind. Much to your surprise you find yourself in front of the door to his room. In the time you’ve been with him, not once have you seen the inside of his bedroom. “Stand up.” The string on your neck beckons you to your feet. You wince as you stand up, knees throbbing due to all the crawling you’ve done.

 Doffy slings the door open and leads you in. The door clicks shut and the sound of the lock being turned echoes in the bedroom. His room was so big it made yours look like a mere closet. Your eyes land on the double king bed in the middle of the room. As you look at it, the only word that comes to mind is sin.  A blood red canopy surrounded the dark oak frame. The mattress itself was covered with a plush black duvet and luxury pillows. It was most definitely fit for a fallen angel like Doflamingo. 

 The string around your neck comes loose, leaving a ring of irritated skin in its absence. Doflamingo walks over to a red armchair that sat adjacent from his bed. He sat down and spread his long legs, giving you a perfect view of the hardening erection in his pants. With a devilish smile on his face, he beckons you over with a motion of his finger. Your body tingles with nervousness as you get closer and closer to him. You were only a few feet away from him when his hand came into the air, letting you know to stop. The same hand pointed a finger in the air and swirled in a circle. You nod and turn around to face the bed. A rush of air sends shivers down your body as the pink feather jacket was taken from your body, leaving you in your damp swimsuit. You turn your head and watch as the jacket drapes around the armchair Doffy sat in. 

 “Did I give you permission to turn around Y/N?” You whip your head back around to face the bed, causing Doffy to chuckle at your speed.

 “No sir, I’m sorry.” You hope your action didn’t piss him off enough to take your reward. 

 “I didn’t give you permission to speak either little whore.” Your body trembles at his condescending tone. “You're very lucky I’m in a good mood, otherwise you could have kissed that reward goodbye.” A wave of relief washes over you knowing it was still on the table. “Now strip and do not turn around for any reason.”  

 Your hands come up to the straps of your bathing suit. Slowly you pull them down your arms until your breasts popped out of the top. Your wet nipples harden immediately when they hit the cool air. Your hands come to your back to untie the knot, you struggle for a moment before it comes loose. With a wet ‘plop’ the garment hits the floor. You could feel your heart racing in your chest. You wanted this, you needed this. You take a shaky breath in and slide your hands down your curves until you reach the band of your swim bottoms. You curl your fingers around the fabric and bring it down until they fall around your ankles. You step out of the bottoms and kick them next to your top. You're now completely exposed to the heavenly demon.

 “Good girl.” Your body heats up at his praise. “Now bend over the bed.” You take a few steps forward and let your upper body fall onto the bed. You scooch back a little and spread your legs apart. “Spread yourself more.” You know exactly what he’s wanting you to do, and you're going to deliver. You slide your hands down your body until they reach the globes of your ass. Your fingers pull them apart, exposing your wet pussy even more. You wiggle your hips from side to side, showing him how needy you are for him.

 “What a dirty little girl, what will I ever do with you?” Your body tenses up when you feel something attach to your clit. A string? “Now I’m sure you're wondering why we came here instead of your room.” A moan leaves your throat when you feel the string moving your clit in small circles. You were so sensitive from being celibate for weeks, it took no time for your orgasm to start building. You hear Doflamingo let out an amused hum. “I can tell by the way your legs are shaking you're about to cum.” You have to hold back a scream as the string picks up the pace even more. 

 You dig your nails into the flesh of your ass in an attempt to ground yourself, but you are too far gone. Your hips start desperately swirling with the strings movement. Fuck it feel so good. But right before you could get your release the string retacts. Your head falls flat on the bed as tears of frustration form in your eyes due to the loss of your high. 

 “Can’t have that now, can we?” You don’t have to see Doffy’s face to know he’s wearing a shit eating grin. You should have known better than to think he’d let you cum this early. You hear him get up from the armchair. His loud footsteps reverberate in the room. You feel the bed dip as he hoovers above you. “Now as I was saying, the reason I brought you here is quite simple. Your bed is a little bit too small.” You feel his hot breath next to your right ear as he speaks. You wonder what changed? The size of your bed has never stopped him before. You tense up when you feel the bed dip on the other side of your body. Is there someone else here? “Too small for the both of us that is.” Your heart stops when you hear Doffy’s voice fill your left ear. It made no sense, how can he be on both sides of you at once? You try to lift yourself up, but a large hand keeps your face shoved into the mattress. 

 “Do you understand what’s happening now?” His voice fills your right ear again. You feel one of his hands wrap around your hair, pulling it back to leave your neck exposed. “I’ll give you a little hint.” Now it was back in your left ear. You feel hot breath on both sides of your neck before tongues lick up the sides in perfect unison. Rough hands grab your sides and with one quick motion your body was turned so your back was now on the mattress. 

 Your eyes nearly pop out of your skull when you see what’s above you. Your eyes land on not one, but two very shirtless Donquixote Doflamingo’s. They both wore the same lust filled expression. 

 “Two Doffy’s? How?” You mutter out in shock. Your nerves are on edge, one Doffy was enough to fuck you into a week long coma. But two of them? That would surely send you to an early grave. As Lao G would say “You’re a goner with a capital G!”   

 “While you were busy getting off on my string, I made a clone of myself.” The Doflamingo on your right spoke, meaning he must be the real one. “It talks like me, it can even use strings like me, but most importantly” Doffy pulls you up from the bed until your face is inches from his. “ It can fuck like me.” His tongue licks a wet stripe up your face. “But a slut like you should be able to handle us, right?.” You hesitate for a second, but nod your head in agreement.

 “Now let’s have a little fun.” Doffy’s clone spoke up, licking its lips. 

 “Sounds good. Hold the little slut up for me.” The clone nods and moves on the bed until it is behind you. Its strong arms hook under your thighs and brings you up until your back rests on its abs. 

 “It's almost pathetic how wet you are.” The real Doffy stole your breath by rubbing his fingers up and down your exposed slit. Your head slams back on the clone's hard chest when Doffy shoves two fingers deep into your cunt. The long digits rubbed along the top of your walls, paying attention to your sweet spots.  

 “Of course I’m wet. Don’t you remember making me fall into the pool sir?” You smile at Doffy innocently, but your bratty tone was anything but that. 

 “Is that it?” The dark tone in Doffy’s voice made you regret it instantly. And then you see the vein in his forehead pop out, you know you're in for it now. 

 “What a dumb whore you are.” The clone spoke before biting the side of your neck harshly, causing you to cry out in pain. “You are so fucked.”

 “Tell me you foolish girl, does this taste like pool water to you?” Doffy pulls his fingers from your dripping hole and shoves them in your mouth. You could taste your arousal as he shoves his fingers even further down your throat.

 “Aren’t you going to answer him?” The clone taunted before licking the bite wound it left. “I guess it’s hard to, considering your mouth is so full huh?” Your vision blurs with tears as you gag around Doffy’s fingers.

 “I’m going to take my fingers out. I suggest you apologize and beg for my forgiveness.” The fingers slowly begin to slide out. “Afterall, you want that reward, don’t you?” His fingers leave with a trail of your saliva. Coughs erupt from your throat as you catch your breath. Your mind has been so clouded over you forgot about the promised reward. 

 “I am very sorry sir. Please forgive me!” Your voice rasps out. 

 “That's all you got? What a lackluster performance.” Doffy grabs your cheeks and smooshes them together. “I’ll give you one last chance. Use it well, my patience with you is running very thin at the moment.” His hand releases your cheeks. 

 “Sir, please forgive me for being such a dumb brat. I’ll be a good and obedient cocksleeve the rest of the night for the both of you! So please use me until I deserve your forgiveness.” Tears are flowing down your face as you desperately beg him. “I’ll do whatever you want. Just please don’t take my reward from me..” You're unsure why you want the reward so desperately when you don’t even know what it is. 

 “That’s more like it. But I still think you need to learn your lesson.” Doffy's hand reared back before smacking you across the face. Not hard enough to leave a mark, but hard enough to make it sting. “Now are you ready to be a good girl?” 

 “Yes sir.” You feel a few more tears fall down your face. Doffy’s hand reaches back out. You prepare yourself for another smack, but instead he wipes the tears away with his hand. 

 “Good.” You watch Doflamingo unzip his pants, freeing his hard cock. “Drop her.” The clone releases you so you fall, landing all fours. You feel the bed move underneath you as Doffy leans his body against the headboard. “Come over here and put that stupid mouth of yours to good use.” 

 You waste no time crawling in between his legs. You stick your ass up in the air and start licking him up and down. His cock twitches under your tongue as you lick the sensitive spot under his tip. You hear him grunt meaning he wants more. You give one last lick before wrapping your lips around him. His huge size stretches your mouth until it's borderline unbearable. One of his large hands thread through your hair before he slams into you. You do your best not to gag around him as he sets a rough pace. 

 “Her pussy is so wet, like it's crying for our attention.” The clone lands a harsh smack on your ass, causing you to yelp around Doffy’s dick. “See.” You feel its fingers run up and down your pussy before bringing its hand to show Doflamingo your glistening arousal. You feel a hard twitch in your mouth as Doffy grunts. He’s getting close. 

 “I’m going to cum and I expect you to swallow every last drop.” With a few more rough thrusts he fills your mouth full of his thick cum. You swallow every bit of it and stick your tongue out to prove it.

 “Where are your manners?” The clone grabs your hair and yanks your head back. “What do you say when your master gives you his cum?” The clone releases your hair so you can look back at Doffy. 

 “Thank you master.” You smile at him through lidded eyes. He let out a satisfied hum in response.  Although you're not able to see his eyes thanks to his sunglasses, you're certain they would have a glint of satisfaction in them.

 “Get her prepared for me. She’s going to need it.” The clone got to work right away by flipping you onto your back. It hooked your legs over its shoulders before licking a long stripe up your slit. 

 “A-AH~” Your hips arch off the bed as the clone starts to eat you out. Its tongue would swirl around your clit before diving deep into your cunt. You could feel pressure building in your lower abdomen already. “ F-fuck it feels so… good~ Your tongue is the best!” You feel the Clone smirk against you.

 “The best huh? So even better than the real one?” The clone gives your clit a harsh suck before looking up at you. “I’m flattered.” It landed a playful smack on your thigh before continuing its assault on your swollen clit. You throw your head back and notice the furious look Doflamingo was giving his clone.

 “Doffy wait I didn’t mean it like tha-” You cut yourself off as a wanton moan escapes your lips. The clone's tongue started stroking that spot deep within you that had your toes curling. “Right there please~ I’m gonna cum~”

 “I’ve had enough of this.” You feel Doffy’s body move from behind you. You whine when the Clones tongue leaves you right as you are about to peak. You bring your head up to see Doflamingo had joined his clone in between your legs. They were both gripping one of your thighs while giving each other a dangerous glare. Was he getting jealous…. of his own clone?

 “Well I haven’t, so back off.” The clone had no plans of backing down as it gripped your thigh tighter. 

 “Do you actually believe you're better than me? Have you forgotten that you're a damn clone?” Doffy clenches his teeth and grabs the clone around the neck. “I can make you go away with a snap of my fingers.” You hold in a laugh as you watch the two bickering. 

 “Well how about we settle this?” You watch as the clone pulls Doffy’s hand off. “Let’s see who can make her cum first.” An evil grin etches itself on Doflamingo’s face at his Clones proposal. 

 “Fine by me.” Doffy agrees as they both turn to look at you. You felt like conquerors' haki was being used on you the way your body froze to the bed. 

 They both start leaving kisses and bite marks down your legs. Slowly but surely they inched closer to the place you wanted them the most. Finally you feel their hot breath ghosting over your sensitive flesh. 

 “Doffy.” You call out to the man himself, gaining his attention. “Please make me cum, only you can~” He smirks at you before his expert tongue starts lapping at your folds. It's very rare that Doffy eats you out, but when he does you're always left speechless. You wish you could thank the clone for pressing his buttons.

 “Don’t forget about me.” You feel the clone's tongue join Doffy’s. The two tongues fight for dominance as they lick every inch of your needy pussy. Your body vibrates from the sheer ecstasy you're experiencing. 

 One of Doffy’s hands snakes up your body to wrap firmly around your neck. You had no trouble figuring out which tongue was the real Doffy’s. Everytime he flicks your clit, he squeezes your neck as if to remind you who your pussy belongs to. 

 “I’m gonna cum~” Your hand grabs onto Doffy’s blonde hair as your body twitches.

"Your not needed anymore." Doflamingo pulls the clone away you before shoving two fingers deep into you. Your legs begin to shake as he syncs the pace of his fingers and tongue together. The perfect harmony of pleasure was driving you even closer to the edge.

 “That’s not fair.” The clone attempts to reclaim his spot between your legs, but was quickly shut down.

 “Have we ever been known to be fair?” With a snap of Doffy's fingers, the sound of string unwinding mixes with your moans. The clone had a scowl on its face before it disappeared. His fingers pick up the pace causing you to grip his hair tighter. “Be a good little girl and cum for me.”

 “Fuck~” Your body quivers as your overdue orgasm crashes over you. Doffy’s tongue detaches from your clit, but his fingers begin to rock up and down harder. You try to fight the urge to let go, knowing what would happen if you do. “Stop Doffy, I’m going to make a mess!”  Your warning came too late as your second orgasm washes over you, causing clear liquid to gush out of you. 

 “I win. Now to claim my prize.” Doffy places his fingers in his mouth and sucks your juices off them. It's hard to lose when you get rid of your competition. “Get on your hands and knees, now.” 

 You miraculously get yourself into the position he wants. Your hands shake trying to hold your worn out body up. Stay focused Y/N, don’t pass out. You hear the familiar sound of a condom being opened as the bed dips. One of his hands ghost up your back, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its path. The same hand wraps tightly around your hair as he bottoms out in one motion. He stays pressed up against your cervix for a few minutes, letting your walls stretch and relax around him. You move up and down his length, letting him know your ready.

 The pace he sets is rapid and ruthless. His cock effortlessly hits all of your sweet spots with every thrust. The blinding pleasure was starting to build up all over again. Your hands shook violently on the bed, you know they are going to give out any moment now. 

 “Are you struggling?” Doflamingo deep voice whispers in your ear. “Want your master to help you?” You weakly nod your head. Doffy’s free arm hooked under you, bringing you off the bed until your back was flush against his chest. He bottoms out again and continues his relentless thrusts. The new position gave him full control over your body, leaving you completely at his mercy. 

 The hand that was in your hair moved down until it stopped at one of your neglected nipples. He rolls the bud between his thumb and index finger before pinching it hard. You cry out in a mix of pleasure and pain. He then moves to the other nipple and gives it the same treatment. 

 “It feels so good.~” Your hand goes down to play with your clit but Doffy stops you.

 “Not so fast little girl.” He switches the position to where he is laying on the bed with you on top. “You're being so selfish, making me do all of the work.” His thumb starts circling your clit causing you grind down on him. “As a matter of fact you’ve not only selfish. You’ve been disobedient, bratty and you even went as far to say that stupids clone tongue was better than mine. You don’t deserve that reward, not even in the slightest.” His cold tone causes you to halt your movements. Something about it struck a chord deep within you. 

 “I’m sorry Doffy.” It hurt knowing he was so disappointed in you. You feel your mood declining. All the dopamine and adrenaline that coursed through your body had finally run out, leaving you emotionally vulnerable.  

 “I’m not finished talking yet, so stop crying and listen.” You were unaware of your tears until he mentioned it. You watch as his hand comes up to his sunglasses. He inhales a deep breath and pulls the glasses off. You bring your hands up to cover your eyes. No one has ever seen his eyes, not even Trebol has. “Look at me Y/N.” Slowly, you drop your hands. Your eyes connect with his. His right eye was ruby red, while his left eye was white and foggy. 

 “Doffy.....Your eyes are beautiful. But why? Why did you show me?” You look at him in awe. 

 “I can’t even answer that myself.” He sighs and runs a hand through his blonde locks. “It doesn't matter anyways. You still want that reward?” 

 “Yes, I do.” You were starting to think him showing you his eyes was the reward. 

 “Make me cum and it’s yours.” He crosses his arms behind his back. Out of everything you and him have done tonight, this was by far the most intimate.

 You slowly start going up and down his length. Every fiber in your body was screaming at you to stop, but the desire to please the man below you was louder. The lewd sounds of your body's connecting fill the room once more. You pick up the pace as you chase your high. Doffy’s hands reach out and grab onto your plush hips. His grip was getting tighter and tighter, causing your hips to roll and grind on him.

 “Fuck.” Doffy curses. One of his hands leaves your hip and moves to wrap around your neck. “Tell me, who does this pussy belong to?” 

 “My master.” You cry out as the grip around your neck tightness.

 “And who is your fucking master.” He brings your head down so your eyes meet his. 

 “You!” Tears of pleasure rolled down your face. “Donquixote Doflamingo!” You cling onto consciousness as you meet your final orgasm. Doffy follows you as he slams against your cervix. You stay still until his cock softens inside you. Slowly you lift yourself off him. Your body collapses on top of him the moment he is fully out of you. You know he is not a fan of skin to skin contact after sex, but you were too weak to hold yourself up.

 “Doffy.” You muster enough energy to lift your head. “Did I do a good job? Are you going to give me the reward?” Your vision was starting  to go in and out. 

 “Yes, I suppose you did.” A weak smile forms on your lips at his words. 

 “Good.” Your head falls back down on his chest. ”That makes me so happy.” Your eyes close and despite your efforts no to, you black completely out.

~While you were knocked out~

 “How amusing.” Doflamingo snickers at your worn out body splayed on his. “You put all that effort in for a silly reward, just to pass out before you're able to indulge in it.” He lifts your body off of his and lays you gently on the bed. He puts his sunglasses back on and calls a maid in.

 “How can I help you young master?” The maid was blushing ear to ear seeing the state you and him were in.

 “Go get something for Y/N to sleep in from her room and change the sheets. I do apologize, it’s my fault they got a little wet.” The maid's cheeks got even darker at his declaration. Doflamingo picks your limp body from the bed and makes his way over to the bathroom. “And if you tell anyone about this, I will cut your head off and send it to your family. You may go now.” 

 “Yes young master.” Her voice wavers with fear. With a bow she leaves the room.

 Doffy turns his shower on, letting steam fill the room. He sat you down on the shower bench so he could clean himself. After giving his body a good scrub down, he picks your body up and places you under the warm water. He leans your body against his and begins to massage shampoo into your hair. After rinsing the suds out of your hair, he poured shower gel into a washcloth and started to lather it into your skin.

 “You're missing out young lady. I’m even using my expensive soap on you~” No response. Doffy rolls his eyes and continues to rinse your body off. He turns the shower off after he deems you squeaky clean. He sat you back down on the bench so he could dry himself off. He threw on a pair of silky pink boxers and then got to work drying you off. 

 He picks you up and takes you back into the bedroom. The maid had laid your clothes out on the freshly made bed. Doffy grabs the night gown and places it over your body. He never in a million years would have thought about pampering a woman like this. But yet here he is.

 “I normally only take these off of a woman, but I guess I’ll make an exception just this once.” He grabs your panties and rolls them up your legs. He admires the small pink flamingo that decorates them. “I’ll have to buy you more of these.”

 He pulls the duvet down and places you under it. After turning the lamp off he joined you in the bed.

 “Baby 5……” You mumble in your unconscious state. “If you go out, get me the latest copy of “Daydreams of Dressrosa”. And don’t let Doffy find out.” 

 “I’m not Baby 5 and I already know you read those silly books you insufferable woman.” Doffy whispers in your ear and as he expected you don’t respond. 

 Doflamingo has never been one to fall asleep easily, normally he reads a book or ponders his next heinous act. But tonight he finds himself watching your sleeping form. The moonlight that peeks through the curtains casts an ethereal glow on your face. “Do you want to shower with me and maybe we can cuddle together for a while after?” He recalls your request from that night. You have technically already showered together, even though you weren't awake for any of it. Which was of course your (Doffy’s) fault. Now it was time to fulfill the last part of your request.  His arm hooks around your midsection and pulls you so your head rests on his chest.

 His arm wraps around your back keeping you snug against him. He’d never openly admit it to you, but he was enjoying this. From the way you snuggled closer to him, to the way your body molds perfectly with his. Like you were made for him. Because you were made for him. He has never been one to keep the same woman around for long. He viewed women how children viewed toys. They are fun for a little while, until something more fun comes along. But not you. You're different from the others who threw themselves at him. He of course finds you very attractive, but there was something else that allured him more. 

  You are truly like his loyal lap dog. No matter how much he neglects you and no matter how many times he metaphorically “kicks you”, the moment he sticks his hand out you come running to him with that dopey smile plastered on your face. You're so hopelessly devoted to him and he loves it. You can’t live without him, he knows that. But a small part of him feels the same way towards you.

 “I think I’ll keep you around. For now at least.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 Your body stirs awake when you feel something tickling your ear. You search for the cause only to hear light snores coming from above you. Slowly you raise yourself from the bed to see the source of the snores was coming from none other than Doflamingo. You bite down on your lip in order not to laugh. It was so funny to watch a man so powerful and scary snoring.  He was still human after all. One particularly loud snore causes a giggle to escape your lips. You slam a hand over your mouth and pray he didn’t hear. 

 “Mind telling me what’s so funny?” It was too late, the beast was already lifting up from the bed.

 “It’s nothing Doffy, you were just snoring.” You press your hands against his chest urging him to lay back down. “I’m sure I’ve overstayed my welcome, I apologize. Sleep well young master.” You scooch yourself off the bed only to be pulled back by a strong arm. He brought you back down to his tone chest and wrapped his arm back around you, caging you to his side. Butterflies erupt in your stomach from the gesture. You lips form into a wide smile as you enjoy the warmth he provided.

 “I don’t snore. And you're fine right where you are. This is your reward after all.” You feel his hand draw soothing shapes into your back. I must be dreaming.

 “If that’s the case, I really like my reward. Thank you.” Your eyes travel up to meet his. You were on cloud 9 and the huge smile on your face proved that. He rolls his eyes at you before slamming your head back down. “Can I request one more thing?” You muffle out into his pecs.

 “Well, aren't you a greedy girl? What is this request of yours?” You feel your heartbeat pick up. You hope this doesn't go south like last time. 

 “Will you please kiss me? I’m grateful for everything you’ve given me and I-.” Your cutoff when his lips connect with your. It catches you off guard, but you slowly melt into it. Your cheeks felt like they were on fire as he slips his tongue into your mouth. Thankfully he pulls away before it gets too heated, you doubt your worn out body could go another round.

 “Satisfied?” You meekly nod before laying back down on him. “Good, now go back to sleep.”

 “One more thing.” You hear him groan out in response. “Now that I’ve seen your eyes, are you going to kill me?” The room fell silent before he started laughing.

 “Perhaps.” You don’t know what worse, the fact he’s laughing about it or not knowing if that perhaps was a joke or not. “Now go back to sleep or I may actually off you.” That time you could sense he was kidding. He was kidding right?

 “Yes sir.” And with that you fell back asleep in his protective hold.

 ~The morning after~

 You woke up alone in Doflamingo’s ginormous bed. You rub the sleep out of your eyes and roll off of the plush mattress. Judging from the amount of sunshine that filled the room, it was very late in the morning. You stretch your arms over your head and let out a satisfied hum.

  Your eyes scan the room and stop on a large tray of sweets sitting on a table. After last night activities, you've worked up a appetite. You walk up to investigate the confections and notice a couple books stacked neatly beside it. You jump up and down when you realize the books are the latest volumes of “Daydreams of Dressrosa”. And they were all signed copies! There was even a copy of the book that was destroyed in the pool yesterday.

 “What page was I on again?” You open the book and skim through the pages until you find a pink feather marking page 112.

 Unknown to you, a certain warlord watched you with a rare, but rather pleasant smile on his face.

~End~

#doffy x reader #doffy #doflamingo x reader #donquixote doflamingo #one piece fluff #one piece angst #one piece smut #one piece x you #one piece x reader #donquixote family #doflamingo smut #doflamingo x reader smut #doffy smut #doflamingo x plus sized reader #onepiece x plussized reader #doffy angst #doflamingo #doffy fluff #doflamingo x y/n

[kaycode1999]

What's your favorite incarnation/version of Bumblebee?

And which is your least favorite?

Just curious bruh :P

Damn that’s a hard one😂😂. God I love them all so much (to clarify I don’t play any of the video games so this is strictly the TV shows and movies

It would probably be easier just to rate them (scale of 1 to 10, 10 being the best)

Long post warning 😂 I’m sorry I just love this bot so much and I have so many feelings about him😂😂

80’s/original Bumblebee- 10/10

Sweet sweet wholesome boy who is also friend shaped just

TFA Bumblebee- 9/10

I relate to him so much (ADHD coded much?), mischievous snarky boy with a heart of gold

Bayverse Bumblebee- 10/10

Bayverse was what got me into the franchise and solidified Bumblebee as my forever favorite and love of my life so I definitely have a special regard for him

TFP Bumblebee- 9/10

Precious precious boy. Can do no wrong (P.S I could get lost in those beautiful blue optics)

RID Bumblebee- 7/10

I don’t think the series did him justice as the leader at the start but he did get there in the end. Also the art style change from TFP was a bit weird to get used to. All around a sweet heart goofball though

War for Cybertron Bumblebee- 6/10

Not a very good series but decent enough for mindless entertainment. Bee is still a good boy but very different from the normal happy and sweet Bumblebee I’m used to

Cyberverse Bumblebee- 11/10

AAAAAHHHHHHHHHH

The most wholesome sweetie to ever live. I would die for him. I want to put my hands on his cheeks and give him Eskimo kisses

Knightverse/ROTB Bumblebee- 15/10

Such a beautiful, bad ass, kind hearted bot. He represents exactly what this character should be to the best degree

Earthspark Bumblebee- 20/10

There’s only been 18 episodes so far and more to come but FFFUUUUUCCCCKKKK

He’s so handsome, he has a great relationship with his found family and I love how he needed a moment to get adjusted after being isolated for many years but quickly gained such a love and respect for his new family also freaking Dany Pudi voices him who I love very much

Sorry for my long rant😂. Hope you enjoyed and let me know which is your favorite and least favorite cause I’d love to know

#transformers #bumblebee #transformers bumblebee #autobots #decepticons #transformers original #bumblebee x reader #transformers bumblebee x reader #transformers earthspark #g1 bumblebee #tfa bumblebee #TFA #bayverse bumblebee #tf war for cybertron #wfc bumblebee #transformers prime #tfp bumblebee #RID #rid bumblebee #tf cyberverse #cyberverse bumblebee #knightverse #knight verse bumblebee #ROTB #rotb bumblebee #earthspark bumblebee

[jostyriggslover96]

Best Thing In My Life

Summary: Kira (OC) and Jack Hughes met through mutual friends unexpectedly one summer. Sparks fly on their first date as their connection continues full force. Now, as Kira visits Jack at his lake things become more serious in every way possible. Kira's thoughts are in italics. Part of the HEART FIRST Series, check out Summer Rituals and Someone Unexpected if you haven’t already!

Note: Thank you for all the love on my two Jack stories, this series has become one of my favorite things to write. This piece in particular was a labor of love and 2 months of writing, but I am so happy with it and hope you enjoy! Thank you to @hockeyboysimagines and @heavenlyhischier for your encouragement and advice on this story!

Warnings: mentions of drinking, swearing, anxiety, smut (unprotected p in v, oral, praise kink). Minors DNI.

Word Count: 14.3k

Best Thing In My Life

Summer was always my favorite time of the year; between the lake days, bonfires, barbeques, and ice cold drinks…it was the best time of the year. This summer blew every other summer out of the water though, because this is the summer that I met Jack Hughes. I don’t normally believe in things like fate or soulmates, but I do truly believe that Jack and I were meant to meet. After our first date which we spent hiking, swimming, cooking, and laughing, we didn’t look back…we only moved forward. 

My first date with Jack was probably the best first date I’ve ever had. Jack somehow made me feel butterflies, calm, and laughter all at the same time. Spending time at the lake with him felt so natural, he fit into my life seamlessly. When we were cooking dinner and he washed all the dishes for me, I could picture so many nights like that with him. As we watched the stars and shared our first kiss, all of the walls I had built around me came tumbling down. I think I will be chasing after his lips for the rest of my life. 

Jack and I spent as much time as we could together after our first date. It involved a lot of extending vacations, creating dates out of smaller moments, facetime calls, and long distance dates. The effort was always there though; whether it was offering to run into town together to pick up supplies and get a moment away from our friends, or spending the entire day talking about life out on the boat together, or dates at the airport coffee shop, or spending the entire evening on facetime until we fell asleep just so we could be with each other, or starting movies at the same time so we could experience the same things even from a distance. We texted each other constantly and had a good chain of memes that made the other laugh. Jack even ordered my favorite coffee from Starbucks and had it delivered to my apartment. As hard as the long distance was, we did everything we could to feel close to each other despite just meeting.

Jack constantly surprised me in so many ways, he wasn’t the typical hockey player that I expected. You could tell he was raised right and that he genuinely respects me. He extended his time at the lake with me twice after our first date so we could spend more time together. Once so he could spend more time with me in my favorite place and the second time was because he liked the ‘vibe’ of my apartment so much that he just had to stay.

Beyond grand gestures, it was small things that he did that made me feel special. After our first kiss, we spent far too long talking under the stars about life and all of our favorite parts of it. Every time I saw him after that, he always surprised me with one of my favorite things. The morning after our first date he brought me my coffee just the way I like it. When we went out on the boat together he brought a cooler of all my favorite snacks and drinks. When we went to the little movie theater at the lake, he passed me my favorite chocolate bar just as the previews started. On the ride back to the city, he put together a playlist with some of my favorite artists. After we got back to the city he disappeared while I started the laundry, he came back with my favorite takeout and the next book in the poetry series I was telling him about the day we met. 

It became clear from the beginning, that this relationship with Jack was more than just a one time date…it was special. It’s beyond special even, it’s the connection that I’ve been looking for. Jack is such a genuine, caring, and supportive person that it’s led to a trust with someone I never even imagined to be possible. I can be myself with Jack, even if that means being anxious or really struggling with vulnerability because of my last relationship. There has never been a moment with Jack where I haven’t felt reassured or safe being me. 

The relationship went beyond sweet dates and special gestures, we were able to really open up to each other too. I felt comfortable telling him about my struggles with anxiety, which worsened after my last relationship. Jack held my hand the entire time, wiping the stray tears that fell and assured me that he would never treat me like my ex. Jack told me about his relationship history, even expressing nerves when he told me that he’s never been in something serious. He told me he didn’t want to screw anything up with me and I assured him that he wouldn’t, we’re in this together.

Jack opened up about how challenging his rookie season was and how much that damaged my confidence. When he told me that he felt like he wasn’t ‘good enough’ I wanted to find each of the reporters that wrote negative things about him and rip them apart. Instead we laid together on the couch, his head resting on my chest as I played with his hair and told him how talented and worthy he is.

Jack told me more about his brothers, it became so clear to me that he loved his family more than anything on this earth. We bonded over our love for our moms, which I never expected. Jack spoke about his mom like she hung the moon and he watched me in admiration as I talked about how my mom was one of my closest friends. I told him that I couldn’t wait to meet his family, especially his mom so I could tell her how amazing her son is. That was the first time he seemed shy to me, his cheeks tinted pink as he rubbed the back of his neck and avoided my gaze. 

I quickly started to feel things for Jack that I have never felt before; the butterflies turned into warmth and comfort or a deep longing when he wasn’t around. Jack made me feel validated…special…beautiful. He filled me with a confidence I had long forgotten when he would call me beautiful every day and would praise each of my accomplishments no matter how little. For the first time in my life, I have been able to push past the fear of being vulnerable and just let myself feel with Jack. He allows me to put my heart first. 

It’s safe to say that these six weeks spent dating and getting to know Jack Hughes have been incredible. He has proven to me that I can trust another man and that relationships can be healthy. He has broken down my walls and has reminded me what happiness feels like. Summer might be my favorite season, but meeting Jack Hughes without a doubt changed my life.

“Flight 826 to Detroit will be boarding in 10 minutes, please ensure you have your boarding passes and identification ready,” the loud voice of the flight attendant on the overhead system shook me from my pleasant daydream about Jack. Jack meant what he said when he told me that he wanted to show me around his lake. So here we were, 6 weeks after our first date as I’m waiting to board my flight to go see his favorite place. The only reason we waited so long was because he had to get the new lakehouse ready after he purchased it with his brother Quinn. 

Bouncing my leg as I grip my phone so tightly that my knuckles turn white, the anticipation is killing me. This is worth it, in a few short hours I’ll be with Jack. I let out a deep breath in an attempt to soothe myself, I just want to be in his arms. As if he sensed my nerves despite the miles between us, my phone lit up with a text from Jack.

J: Babe, I know you hate flying but you’ve got this. I’ll be here waiting for you when you land. 

I smiled to myself as my grip on my phone relaxed, it’s like he knows what I’m thinking.

K: So excited to meet Quinn and Luke!

J: What about me? 

I could sense the pout in his text even though I couldn’t see his face.

K: Can’t wait to see you Jacky, I miss you so much! Can’t wait to have you back in my arms shorty 😛

J: First of all, I’m 5’11 😛Second of all, I can’t wait for that either.

K:5’11, how dare I! Can’t wait to see that smile when I get off my flight.

“Please make your way to gate 21 for Flight 826 to Detroit as we are now boarding,” the voice chimed in on the overhead once more.

K: Gotta go baby, boarding now. See you soon!

J: Can’t wait babe ❤️

My heart fluttered when I saw his text, maybe it was just the heart emoji or maybe he felt it too. I am falling fast for this man, I thought as I gathered my bag and coffee before making my way to the boarding line.

~~~~~~~~~~~

After a grueling 6-hour flight, the captain finally announced that we were preparing for landing. Flying was never particularly my thing, having very little experience in this department made me very tense. However, this flight seemed to never end as 6-hours felt more like 12-hours as I was getting more and more antsy to see Jack. I spent the whole flight bouncing my leg and picking at my nail beds. I’m shocked the older gentleman sitting next to me didn’t say a single thing about my fidgeting habits that must’ve grown annoying. He simply smiled gently and asked me why I was traveling. I hesitated when I tried to explain who Jack was, he isn’t my boyfriend but he feels like he is. But what if it's way too soon to make declarations like that? Instead of exploring this dilemma with my seatmate I simply stated that I am going to visit my boyfriend. Those words felt nice leaving my mouth.

It felt like an eternity from the time we landed, found a gate, and were ready to deplane. I swear I was squeezing the seatrests so hard, I’m surprised I didn’t crush them. Once it was my turn to leave my seat, I quickly gathered my things and bid my seatmate goodbye. Practically bouncing in place I followed behind the other passengers before setting a pace somewhere between a speed walk and a jog once we were safely off the plane. Somehow I managed to text Jack, navigate the airport, and not run into anyone simultaneously. 

After a short adventure through the Detroit airport, I was on the escalator that made its way to the baggage claim and airport exit. My eyes darted around anxiously scanning for Jack, most people were on their phones or scanning the crowd for their loved ones. Suddenly my eyes landed on the blue-eyed brunette whose smile lit up when our eyes locked. I swear I could’ve melted right then and there when he sent me a wink and a wave as I waited to get off the escalator. Once the family in front of me got off the escalator, I quickly zigzagged through the crowd before stopping in front of Jack who was still beaming from ear to ear. Within a split second my carry-on was on the ground and my arms were thrown around Jack’s neck as I pulled him as close as possible. 

“Hi Jacky,” I exhaled, finally letting out a sigh of relief that I’ve been holding in since I last saw him. He wrapped his arms tightly around my waist, squeezing so hard that he lifted me off the ground slightly. Inhaling as he held me tightly my nostrils were met with his familiar scent, sandalwood with hints of fresh water, probably the lake. 

“Hi babe,” Jack whispered as he pressed his warm lips to my temple. In his arms, I was home. Everything stopped while we were in each other's arms, nothing else existed. We completely tuned out from the hustle and bustle of people around us, the child who was excitedly showing her grandma the paw patrol stuffy she had, and the older couple who commented on how cute we were when they passed us. Anxiety dripped away as Jack ran his hands gently along my back.

“I missed you,” I mumbled in his ear as I squeezed my eyes shut, warding off the tears that were forming. I had really missed him more than I thought I did. 

“Missed you more,” Jack replied as he leaned back in my arms to get a good look at me. Smiling warmly, his arms left my waist and wiped the tears that were pooling in my eyes before making their way back to my waist just as fast. I returned his smile as I took him all in; his skin was sun kissed, even more than it was when I last saw him and his hair had fleck of sandy blonde pepper throughout it. “So glad you’re here, I can’t wait to show you around,” excitement filled Jack’s voice as I played with the ends of his hair on the back of his neck.

“Me too,” I echoed his excitement as he gave my waist a tender squeeze. “Before we go, this is important,” before Jack could question what I was referring to I pulled his head down to mine and crashed my lips on his. Our lips connected in passionate bliss that sent warmth shooting through my body, lips entwined in unison for a few heavenly moments before we pulled away. 

“Good call, that was important,” Jack whispered, his lips so close to mine that they brushed with every word. Smirking, I pecked his lips again. My heart was pounding so fast I could hear it, not from anxiety though, from pure joy.

“Also you didn’t miss me more, impossible,” I emphasized with another kiss. His nose nuzzled mine as we pulled away, there was something so simple but intimate about this moment. While staring into each other’s eyes, giggling about my competitive insistence that I missed Jack more when we were brought back into reality by a young child screaming a few feet away from us. We pulled away hesitantly to glance at the child, I sent the mother an empathetic smile as she attempted to soothe the child.

“Should we get your bag?” Jack commented as he leaned down to grab my carry-on bag while keeping an arm securely around my waist. I nodded silently as my arms dropped from his neck and one settled at his waist, staying as close as we possibly could when we started walking. “We’ve got a bit of a drive, but not too bad. I figured you’d want to stop at Starbucks before we leave the city since you were up so early,” Jack explained.

“You know me so well,” I smiled warmly while glancing up at him, he responded by squeezing my waist and pulling me closer to his side if that were possible.

“How was the flight?”

“So long, I thought it would never end,” I sighed dramatically as Jack let out a chuckle. “The older man beside me was nice though.”

“Oh yeah,” Jack commented as we stopped at the appropriate baggage claim.

“Yeah, he was asking me about my trip and what brought me to Detroit. He is visiting his grandkids. He told me to have fun with my boyfriend while I was leaving,” nervous butterflies flooded my body at the mention of the word. Silence rang loudly between us as Jack stepped forward to grab my bag of the carousel. 

“Huh, I like the sound of that,” he winked at me as he drew the handle on my bag up and replaced his hand on my waist. “Alright Kira, let’s get my babe to the lake,” he exclaimed before turning me around and guiding me to the door. He liked the sound of that. So did I. I loved the sound of that. Jack Hughes…my boyfriend…maybe. 

~~~~~~~~~~

Jack and I spent the car ride up to his lake house catching up on every possible detail of our lives that the other had missed since we last saw each other, even though we gave each other very detailed recaps of our day every evening on the phone or Facetime. We remained as intertwined as possible, Jack’s fingers laced with mine where they rested on the center console of his Range Rover. 

As promised, we stopped at a Starbucks before we left Detroit, to my surprise Jack remembered my favorite summer beverage. When we pulled up to the drive thru he glanced my way and asked ‘the usual’ before reciting my order perfectly. His attention to detail sets my heart on fire. Small things like this, remembering my coffee order, make me feel so special. Jack makes me feel cared for.

We spent the rest of the ride talking, listening to music, and laughing. I vented to Jack about the annoying new girl at work who seems insistent on calling me Kara instead of Kira. Jack listened attentively the whole time, throwing in his two cents here and there, but never once making me feel ridiculous or like my feelings were invalid. Jack let me choose the music the entire way, even turning the music up when Harry Styles came on.

“I like this one,” Jack commented as he increased the volume.

“You, Jack Hughes, like Watermelon Sugar?” my voice filled with shock at this new revelation.

“Yeah, it’s pretty catchy,” he shot a smile my way.

“You know what this song is about right?” I questioned.

“Other than watermelon, no,” he replied as we drove deeper into the trees. His lake house wasn’t too far outside of Detroit, but you would’ve never guessed it was this close to the city. It felt like another world out here.

“It’s about oral Jack,” I teased as I gave his hand a squeeze. As I glanced at Jack I noticed his face was flush around his neck and ears.

“Well, I don’t hate that either,” he stated very casually before shooting a smirk my way. I couldn’t help but snort as boisterous laughter poured out of me. Jack started laughing too before he decided it was a good time to break out his singing chops as he started singing along to the chorus of the song, sending me even further into my fit of laughter. 

The ride didn’t last much longer, time seemed to move more quickly as we started singing along to all the songs and got even goofier with each other if that were possible. Jack pulled onto a winding road full of stunning lake houses that looked more like lake mansions compared to my family cabin. We drove for a minute past the cabins before pulling onto the winding driveway of the house Jack had sent me many pictures of when the purchase became official.

“Well this is home for the summer,” Jack commented as he squeezed my hand before putting his vehicle in park. I was silent for a moment, taking in the beautiful view of the lake house on the water. It was a decent size, not obnoxiously huge, and it still felt down to earth.

“Wow Jack, it’s even better than the pictures,” my voice was full of disbelief as I took in my surroundings.

“Thank you, we love it,” Jack commented as he opened the door and held up his hand, signaling for me to stay in my seat as he jogged around the car to my door. Pulling my door open, he held out his hand to help me out as I undid my seatbelt and took his hand in mine once more. Jack quickly gathered my bags as I grabbed our empty coffee cups from the car before he led the way inside. Somehow he managed to carry my suitcase and carry-on while having an arm securely wrapped around my waist and opened the front door with ease. 

“Welcome to the lake house,” Jack’s soft voice filled my ears as I entered the foyer of the spacious lake house. “We don’t have all the finishing touches done, but it looks pretty good so far,” Jack explained as he placed my bags by the front door. I glanced around taking in the living room to my left and the kitchen up ahead.

“It looks like Mama Hughes has been helping you decorate,” I teased Jack gently, while brushing his hip with mine.

“She may have been here to help out,” Jack scoffed as he took the empty coffee cups from me.

“I don’t think your couch would have any accent throw pillows if your mom wasn’t here,” I shot back at him jokingly as I took in more of the room.

“Touché,” Jack replied as I walked around the living room, taking in all the nice details.

“Alright Jacky, I need the grand tour.”

“Well first of all, welcome to my crib,” Jack started off without hesitation as he launched into his tour of the lake house causing me to snicker as I followed along with him. He showed me the den with the pool table, the movie theater den with various gaming consoles, the various guest rooms on the main floor, the bedrooms upstairs that had spacious ensuites which I learned belonged to him and Quinn. When I commented on how clean it was, Jack told me that he may have forced his brothers to help him clean up the place for me. I found that incredibly sweet and endearing, he wanted it to look nice for me. He cared about making a good impression, no guy has ever cared about that with me before.

Jack continued his tour by showing me around the garage that was being turned into a hockey training area where they could wear roller blades and practice their shot. Jack showed me around their kitchen, explaining that he and Quinn did most of the cooking for everyone. Then the tour branched out onto the deck, as we were leaving the house Jack and I heard rustling in the bushes on the edge of the deck. 

“What is that?” I questioned as my curiosity peaked.

“No clue,” Jack commented as he walked closer to the edge of the deck, his arm out to keep me behind him. 

“Do you get much wildlife up here?”

“Not a ton,” Jack explained as he reached the edge of the deck and peaked over the railing. “Are you serious?” Jack exclaimed in destain as he took in whatever he saw over the edge of the deck. Coming up behind his shoulder, I decided to peek around to see what he seemed unimpressed by and was met with the sight of Quinn and Luke crouched down in the bushes along the edge of the deck. This was quite the interesting introduction, seeing as I have only ever seen them in pictures or heard Jack talk about them.

Instantly I started to giggle at the sight of two grown guys that appeared to be hiding quite badly in the bushes. “Are you guys hiding?” I managed between giggles. Quinn and Luke popped up from their hiding place in the bushes and started brushing the leaves off themselves.

“No, absolutely not,” Quinn scoffed.

“Nah, just hanging in the bushes like normal people?” Jack questioned, his voice dripping with skepticism. 

“We weren’t hanging out in the bushes or hiding,” Quinn countered.

“That’s what it looked like,” I commented. Jack nodded in my direction, signaling his agreement with my comment. Jack gently threw his arm around my shoulders as Quinn and Luke stepped out of the bushes and came to join us on the deck. I reciprocated the gesture and wrapped my arm around my waist, snuggling into his side.

“We were actually gardening– um, discussing a garden I mean,” Quinn stuttered as they joined us. Quinn glanced over at Luke, his eyes wide, looking for some kind of validation. 

“We were?” Luke questioned. Quinn gently smacked him in the stomach, clearly Luke was blowing this. “I mean, yeah the gardening,” Luke tried to smooth over the conversation but failed miserably. 

“Yeah, I don’t buy it,” Jack said flatly, calling out their bullshit. The three brothers stared at each other silently, clearly engaged in some kind of Hughes’ brothers staring contest. After a few moments of silence, I cleared my throat, regaining the attention of the brothers.

“You guys are awful liars, but it’s nice to meet you both. I’m Kira, Jack has told me a lot about you,” I put on my sweetest smile and extended my arm that wasn’t wrapped around Jack to shake their hands. Quinn brushed aside my hand and pulled me in for a side hug. 

“I’m Quinn, nice to meet you Kira,” Quinn said as he pulled away. “This is Luke.”

“You talk about us?” Luke stared at Jack before turning to me and smiling, leaning in for a side hug just like Quinn. 

“Only the embarrassing stories,” Jack quipped. I scoffed and gave Jack a gentle pat on his stomach for teasing his brother.

“Jack won’t shut up about you,” Luke replied, his eyes were screaming ‘ha ha’ at Jack. They are such typical brothers and I love it so much. 

“Oh, is that so,” I look up at Jack with a knowing look as his cheeks begin to flush. His brothers start to snicker at their brother's embarrassment. 

“Well you’re pretty great, and there's lots to tell,” Jack trailed off as he began rambling.

“I think it's sweet,” I smiled before standing on my tiptoes to place a soft kiss on Jack’s cheek. As I pulled back I noticed that Jack’s cheeks flush even more while we continued to chat with Quinn and Luke. 

Despite the butterflies that were rumbling in my stomach and my sweaty palms, I would say that my first meeting with Jack’s brothers went very well. Luke ended up letting the surprise slip that some of Jack’s friends would be coming for a barbecue. Luke passionately claimed that he didn’t know that was a surprise, as I giggled and he earned a smack from Jack and Quinn. 

Jack told me that the plan for our day was to go explore some of his favorite spots at the lake, just like our first date many weeks ago. I noticed Luke’s face drop when Jack mentioned that we should get going soon for lunch, so as I went inside to change I dragged Jack to the side and asked if he would be alright with inviting his brothers along for a little lake tour. I can’t imagine how hard it is for the brothers to be separated for so many months of the year while they are all playing hockey, especially with how Jack describes their closeness. Jack’s eyes lit up at my suggestion before he scurried off to tell his brothers the plan. 

After quickly changing out of my travel clothes and into some jean shorts and a band t-shirt, we were ready to go. As we piled in the car Jack suggested going to the country club for lunch, I shot Jack a nervous look while bringing up my casual attire. Jack just smiled and told me things would be alright as Quinn reassured me that the club doesn’t have a dress code. Luke even chimed in saying that Jack always wears band t-shirts to the club. Somehow this didn’t ease my nerves as we drove down the lake roads, my mind started racing as I stared out the window wondering if Jack would think less of me for not dressing like a prim and proper WAG. A moment later Jack’s fingers curled in mine and gave my hand a reassuring squeeze, a sense of relief flooded through my body like the waves crashing on the lake. 

The drive to the country club was short, Quinn explained this was part of the appeal of the lake house, they could be that much closer to the water and golf. When we entered the club I was pleasantly surprised to see how casual everyone else was, Jack whispered ‘told you so’ in my ear as the waiter led us to our table. We spent most of lunch with his arm wrapped around me as the brothers told stories of their summertime shenanigans. Quinn and Luke peppered me with questions about school, my family, my plans after graduation, if I would ever be willing to move, and more. I noticed Jack gave them a menacing look or a kick under the table as a warning to go easy on me. Yet I seemed to impress them with my answers, as all the brothers looked pleased to learn more about me. 

After lunch, we got into the car and drove to the training facility where Jack described spending most of his days. Jack seemed nervous sharing his favorite places with me, as he rubbed the back of his neck and told me we didn’t need to go inside if I didn’t want to. It was my turn to reassure him, as I wrapped my arm around his waist and insisted he show me around the facility. Jack gave an interesting tour of where they trained and explained to me how he was trying to improve on different aspects of his game throughout the summer. I watched in awe of his passion as he talked about the sport he clearly loved. While Quinn and Luke were busy talking to a trainer, Jack told me more about how his rookie year shook his confidence and made him feel like a failure. My heartbroke hearing him talk about himself in those ways. 

Doing the only thing I could think of to reassure him, I wrapped my arms around him and pulled him close while I whispered in his ear all the ways he never fails to impress me on and off the ice. Jack seemed to cheer up as we left the practice facility and drove back towards the lake town. We stopped at a small coffee shop and grabbed an afternoon pick me up. Luke ordered a hot chocolate, which I teased him for as he sipped the hot drink in the sweltering weather while Jack and I enjoyed our iced coffees. After the coffee shop we stopped at a bakery where Jack insisted I try a cinnamon bun that he claims ‘changed his life’. The bakery staff were excited to see Jack, questioning him about his summer and the new lake house. He is clearly a regular here and blushed when I asked him if he cheats on his training diet often. 

After the bakery, Jack and I walked hand-in-hand, looking in at some of the cute lake shops in the area. All the boys were patient as I picked out a few souvenirs and fought over who got to carry my bags. The afternoon seemed to fly by, as Quinn, who fits the older brother card to a tee, reminded the boys of the time and what they needed to prepare for the barbecue. We headed back to the lake house to start preparations, when to my surprise Quinn insisted that Jack and I take a ride on the boat so Jack could show me the water. I graciously thanked Quinn as Jack dragged me off in the direction of the dock, clearly eager that we could get some private time together. 

As I was helping him untie the ropes, I noticed his face was serious, like his mind was racing about something. When I asked him what was wrong, he told me that Quinn invited more of their friends than he expected. I assured him that I was excited to meet all of his friends, even if it was a big group as he helped me into the boat. Jack’s face dropped once more as he explained that his friends would be taking up all the guest rooms, hesitating before telling me why that was upsetting. 

“So I’m guessing we’re sharing a room,” I asked as I put two and two together. Panic flashed across Jack’s face as he stuttered to respond. 

“Yeah, well, it looks like we are. If you’re okay with that. I can sleep on the couch if that makes you uncomfortable,” Jack rambled as he paced back and forth on the boat. Standing from the comfortable seat I was planted on, I placed both my arms on Jack’s shoulders to stop him. 

“Jack, I’m completely fine with that. It doesn’t bother me at all, but thank you for being so concerned for my comfort,” I offered him a reassuring smile as his eyes finally met mine. His features softened at my soft tone, I could practically feel the tension melting away from him. 

“I just know it’s early and I don’t want to rush you,” Jack’s voice was softer and calmer as he spoke. 

“Jacky, you aren’t rushing me! Now if you don’t want to cuddle with me, I’ll understand,” I teased him, jokingly poking his side. Finally his signature smile graced his lips once again. 

“Oh I don’t think I’ll ever say no to that offer,” he smirked before leaning in and pressing his lips to my forehead. The kiss was soft, gentle…like a thank you for calming him. 

“Now let’s get going, I want to see this gorgeous lake you always talk about,” I commented as I gestured towards the driver's seat. Jack simply smiled and took his place behind the wheel, pulling me down into his lap as he started the engine. This was turning out to be the perfect day. 

~~~~~~~~~

Once Jack and I returned from the water, preparations for the barbecue were in full swing. Jack and I walked into the kitchen to find Quinn instructing Luke on how to slice the tomatoes for burgers. It was quite comical really, Luke was rolling his eyes behind Quinn’s back and as a result, almost sliced his finger. When Jack and I started snickering, Quinn and Luke were alerted to our presence. 

“Ahh if it isn’t the love birds who got out of helping,” Luke smirked at the two of us. His eyes landed on our intertwined hands as we stood in the kitchen. His comments earned him a smack from Quinn as a result. 

“This is a barbecue in Kira’s honor, we aren’t going to make her help,” Jack scolded Luke. It was quite cute to see him go into older brother mode. 

“Kira, we made sure to get you dairy free cheese for the burgers,” Quinn commented, completely ignoring his bickering brothers. 

“Thank you, that’s very sweet,” I smiled gratefully at him. 

“Anything for you baby,” Jack replied as he pressed his lips to my temple. Melting in his embrace for a moment before excusing myself to go change my outfit. Jack scurried past me to carry my bag up to his room for me, which earned him a sweet kiss as a thank you. 

Once I changed into an outfit that my friends had deemed ‘hot enough for Jack but not too hot for his friends’ I touched up my makeup and made my way back downstairs. I noticed that everything had shifted outside and there were more people with the Hughes boys. Instantly feeling my palms start to sweat, I shook them out and took a deep breath. This is a huge deal; meeting the brothers and the friends on the same day. Jack is worth it though, meeting all these people is worth it because I get to be a part of his life. 

“Kira,” Jack’s voice tore me from my thoughts as my eyes refocused and I noticed the handsome brunette standing in front of me. The nerves melted away as Jack wrapped an arm around my waist, he was starting to feel more and more like home. “Ready for this?”

“For you? Absolutely,” I smiled as I wrapped my arm around him and let him guide me outside. My ears were instantly met with loud voices and rambunctious laughter that died down when everyone took in my sudden presence. All the guys were staring at Jack and I, eyes wide like they’ve never seen Jack with a girl before. That honestly seems unlikely to me. 

“Guys, this is Kira,” Jack started as I was met with a chorus of hello’s. Waving sheepishly as the large group of hockey players, Jack began his introductions of the guys that I have heard so many stories about. “Kira, this is Alex, Cole, Trevor, Brady, Matty, and Nico who you’ve met before.” 

I nodded at each of them, offering a nervous smile as I tried to remember who was who. There was an awkward silence as they all stared at me for a moment, perhaps judging if I was worthy of their friend. Nico broke the silence by pulling me into a hug and suddenly there were the murmurs of talkative boys once again. Some of the guys shook my hand, Alex and Brady simply waved, Matty pulled me in for a surprising hug, and Trevor was…well Trevor. Just as I was settling back into Jack’s embrace, a smirk settled on Trevor’s face. Based on Jack’s stories, I knew what was coming next would be interesting. 

“So you’re the cougar that’s preying on our precious Jack,” Trevor deadpanned. I inhaled abruptly and choked on my saliva, causing me to cough for a moment.  He was smirking but I couldn’t tell if he was serious. Quinn smacked the back of Trevor’s head and muttered ‘moron’. The rest of the guys looked between Jack and Trevor with uncertainty. However, I felt Jack’s grip tighten around my waist as his body tensed up, this being the only time he’s ever reacted this way in my presence. 

I heard Luke whisper to Quinn, “can she be a cougar if they’re like 4 years apart?”

“Dude, what the fuck? Could you just shut the fuck up,” Jack snapped at his friend. Instinctively I leaned in closer to him, placing my hand on his chest in comfort. 

“It was a joke man,” Trevor chuckled, throwing his arms up in defense. 

“Not a funny one, don’t say shit like that to her,” Jack’s voice was dripping with frustration. A tone I had never heard in him before. Looking between the friends and the other boys, it was easy to figure out that these two didn’t usually fight. Leaning into his ear, I whisper ‘it’s okay’ to try to calm him. 

“Okay, man. I’m sorry,” Trevor replied, his tone significantly less cocky than before. 

“Don’t say sorry to me,” Jack warned. 

“I’m sorry Kira,” Trevor offered. I nodded in return, wracking my brain for something to say. 

“It’s okay. Also if I remember correctly, he came onto me first, so I definitely wasn’t preying on him,” I replied sarcastically. Everyone broke out into raucous laughter. 

“Jack you dog,” Trevor teased. 

“Always liked the older ladies,” Cole chimed in. 

“I did not come onto you first,” Jack scoffed, staring down at me in shock. 

“Sure you didn’t,” I winked at him. “Agree to disagree,” I offered before standing on my tiptoes and pressing my lips to his gently, which quickly earned whistles from the other guys. 

The rest of the evening went off without a hitch. Trevor apologized profusely to Jack and I once everyone broke into separate conversations. Jack clearly wasn’t one to hold a grudge but gave Trevor a look that clearly set him straight. Trevor then went on to ask me about all the crazy stories I had from working in a bar and made the big claim that he’s never embarrassed himself while drinking, all the guys reminded him of the times he has after that. 

Cole and Alex seemed genuinely interested in what I was taking in school and why I went for a second degree. Cole declared that he would’ve been a doctor if he hadn’t been a hockey player to which Jack told him he wasn’t smart enough for that. Matty asked me flat out why I wanted to date a 19 year old if I was 23, which earned him an elbow from Brady and Nico. Quinn and Trevor bickered like an old married couple, honestly reminding me of my grandparents at times. Luke tried to sneak a beer once or twice, which no one would allow. 

I spent most of the night comfortably seated in Jack’s lap. Normally the open affection in front of others would make me flinch, but with Jack it brought me calm and comfort. Jack continuously asked me if I was enjoying myself or if I needed another drink or if I wanted another burger. He even ate the dairy free cheese on his burger after Trevor said it looked gross. 

Jack and I spent the evening telling stories of how we met, how Jack ‘bagged’ me, our first date, and so much more. I never expected his brothers or his friends to care this much about our relationship but they never seemed bored. I was able to learn so much more about Jack and why he is who he is from his brothers and friends. Jack notably cringed when Cole told a story of the time Jack tried to ‘hit on some ladies’ while he was playing for team USA. Trevor excitedly pointed out how badly it went. Jack looked like he wanted to crawl out of his skin when Quinn found a few baby pictures of Jack on his phone for me, they made my heart melt completely. If my heart wasn’t with this man before, it surely was now. 

Trevor insisted I play on his team when a beer pong game broke out, excited to find that I had decent skills. Skills so decent in fact, that I beat every guy there. Matty chalked it up to the extra life experience I had, but the rest of the guys gave me ‘mad respect’. Jack told me that he had never been prouder of ‘his girl’, which made me melt even more. Jack was quickly corrected when the party moved inside and I beat Trevor at Halo quite easily; then Jack declared that I was the best girl he ever dated. 

All of the guys seemed to accept me with open arms, literally. They all insisted on hugs when Jack and I were heading upstairs. Trevor apologized for being a douche once again, I told him it was water under the bridge and Jack reminded him not to mess with me. Alex reminded us to ‘use protection’ as we headed up the stairs, which earned him an elbow from Nico. Luke let out a horrified gasp and asked Quinn if he would be able to hear us through the walls. That earned Luke the middle finger from Jack and myself. 

Jack and I settled into our room quite comfortably. He asked a million questions about my skin care routine, even asking if I brought any of those ‘face mask things’. He sat with me the whole time I was getting ready for bed; asking me what I thought of the day, if I liked the lake, what I thought of his brothers, and if his friends were overwhelming. Jack even turned his back as I changed into my pajamas, thank god I packed cute ones. He let me choose my side of the bed and kept a respectful distance once we got under the covers. He quickly loosened up when I reminded him about the cuddling and we fell asleep peacefully wrapped in each other's arms. 

The night was a major success on every front, the more I learned about Jack the more invested in him I became. He spent the whole evening ensuring I was comfortable and content, I’ve never had that before. As hesitant as I was to meet Jack and as much as I ran from relationships, he had convinced me to jump into this full force. He convinced me that I was safe with him, that he would never rush me and that he would always try to understand my feelings. Jack really was the guy I never expected to meet, but he completely changed my life. I wanted him all to myself, to be mine completely, to be my boyfriend. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Waking up in Jack’s arms the next morning was like waking up in a dream. It was a dream you never wanted to end as I basked in the comfort of his warm arms. We spent what felt like forever cuddling, pressing soft kisses to each other's lips, and talking about how happy we were in that moment. I was surprised by how much Jack was opening up to me, it made my heart swell every time he shared something personal with me. 

This morning he told me that this is the happiest he’s ever been aside from his draft day. We were in the middle of a passionate exchange, it was rudely interrupted by Trevor who barged in and immediately upon noticing we were making out in bed, screamed and covered his eyes. This drew the attention of some of the others and suddenly there was a group of hockey players crowded outside the bedroom door. 

“Ew, could you guys make out somewhere private,” Luke groaned as he shielded his eyes with Trevor. 

“We were!” Jack shouted as he tossed a pillow at the door and yelled at his friends to get out of the room. As the door was closing Quinn gently reminded us that the boat would be leaving in 45 minutes for the day. 

“So much for our peaceful morning,” I muttered as I stretched out, now fully adjusting to being awake. Jack groaned unhappily next to me, I leaned over and pressed my lips to his once more. “We have to get up,” I mumbled against his lips. 

“Want to stay here with you,” Jack responded, holding me tightly against his body. 

“But the boat day,” I encouraged him. 

“Like you more than the boat,” Jack muttered as he chased my lips. 

“If we don’t get up they’ll just come back,” I pointed out. Jack sighed in response and threw the covers off both of us. Jack offered me his hand to help me out of bed as we both went about our business getting ready. I changed into a simple and respectable bikini that was a little hot for Jack but not too hot for his friends before throwing on some shorts and a tank top.

 When we were both ready, we made our way downstairs, hand-in-hand to grab some breakfast before heading out for the day. Jack had me sit at the island while he got my coffee ready and made me a plate of pancakes. Trevor told Jack how ‘whipped’ he was, which earned Trevor glares from both of us. Quinn smacked Trevor on the back of the head while he walked behind him to bring me an orange juice. I couldn’t help but smile at how sweet the Hughes’ boys were being to me, it’s like I’m part of the family. 

After a quick breakfast, Jack and I helped Quinn pack the cooler full of snacks before we made our way down to the boat. The boat was very impressive and could fit all of us with no trouble. Trevor and Luke snickered while Jack helped me with sunscreen, but quickly stopped laughing an hour later when they decided to put some on as well. The Michigan sun was beating down on us and I was absolutely loving lake life with Jack. The water was calm, the sun sparkled as it hit the blue lake. We were surrounded by lake houses, trees, and open water; this is the good life. 

We spent the rest of the morning and most of the afternoon out on the water. Drinking, wake surfing, eating, swimming, laughing, and having a good time. I grew more and more comfortable with Jack’s friends, my nerves had officially faded about getting to know them. To my surprise, Jack was very affectionate in front of his friends, constantly keeping me close throughout the day. We were either sitting together, sharing food, or I was in his lap enjoying myself. 

Jack definitely showed off when he was demonstrating wake surfing to me, throwing in a few special tricks. He offered me endless encouragement as I got out there myself to try it and even managed to stay up for a minute or so. While Jack was helping me back in the boat, he whispered ‘good girl’ in my ear, obviously gesturing to my first attempt at wake surfing. Those words made my legs weak as I got all warm and fuzzy inside. Coupled with his killer smile and his gorgeous blue eyes, Jack was really looking good out here in his element. 

Later in the day while we were relaxing and drying off in the sun, no longer zooming around on the boat, Quinn brought up the plans for the evening. He explained to the guys that they would be grabbing food at the pub before hitting up a party at a nearby lake house. Jack took the opportunity to tell me about the chicken he was marinating for tonight, which caught the attention of some of the guys. 

“Wait, why aren’t you coming to the party?” Cole questioned. 

“I’m cooking for Kira,” Jack responded simply. 

“Why aren’t you cooking for all of us?” Matty questioned. 

“I have a special night planned for us,” Jack explained. 

“So we’re not special?” Trevor asked, feigning hurt. 

“Kira is special in a different way,” Jack smiled as he wrapped his arm around my shoulder. I couldn’t help but blush as all the guys smirked at this gesture. 

“That’s his nice way of saying you aren’t special,” Quinn fired back at Trevor who immediately started bickering with the eldest Hughes brother. The bickering only ended when Quinn pushed Trevor into the lake, which started an all out war between the boys. Jack and I laughed from the sidelines as we took in this perfect day out on the water. 

Something about tonight felt different from our other dates. Like Jack was really putting in an effort to make tonight special. He had the meal all preplanned and was even sending his friends out so we could be alone. I was practically beaming in anticipation at the thought of uninterrupted alone time with Jack, we really didn’t have much of that recently. There’s something I definitely want to bring up to him if the time is right tonight…and I hope it is because I want Jack to be mine. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The blissful afternoon we shared on the glistening water came and went all too quickly. I wanted to stay wrapped in Jack’s arms on the boat forever as the rippling water rocked us gently. Before I knew it we were docking by the lake house once more and the guys were getting ready for their night out. Trevor was still whining about Jack kicking him out of the house for the evening, but no one else seemed to mind. 

I freshened up in Jack’s room after our long day in the sun. Quickly hopping in the shower as Jack got changed, I noticed his eyes lingering on my body as I gathered my clothes. His gaze was hot on my skin, sending tingles throughout my body. 

Deciding to tease him just a bit, I pretended that the knot in my bikini top was too hard for me to untie. As Jack’s fingertips fiddled with the knot his fingers touched brushed my skin, sending shivers down my spine. Once the knot was untied Jack held the strings for a moment, giving my hip a playful squeeze before letting me go. Sweetening the deal even more, I let the bikini top drop to the ground as my back was turned to him before grabbing my clothes and strutting to the bathroom. Smirking as I heard Jack let out an exasperated groan as I closed the door behind me, I got down to work, wanting to look fresh for my special evening with Jack. He kept mentioning that tonight was special, even though I didn’t know exactly why, I felt the same way. I could tell something special was going to happen tonight. 

After putting a few more soft curls in my hair I took a step back to look in the mirror. It was a simple but cute look, black romper that was a little low cut to give Jack a nice view, simple makeup and wavy hair. Smiling, I was happy with my work as I brushed my fingers on my romper to smooth it, letting out a shaky breath as I did so. Take a deep breath Kira and relax. This is Jack, he’s not going to hurt you like the other guys. Jack is different. I thought to myself as I squeezed my eyes shut for a moment. Letting out another deep breath, I felt the butterflies fade. 

Stepping out of Jack’s room I closed the door gently as my feet padded softly on the floor. Gingerly making my way down the stairs I noticed there wasn’t anyone in the living room as I turned into the kitchen. Jack’s back was to me as he focused on something on the stove. He was wearing dark jeans and a black t-shirt, simple but incredibly hot on him. 

“Have the boys left?” I interrupted his focus as he glanced over his shoulder, gaze landing on me. A smile formed on Jack’s lips as his eyes flitted up and down my body, taking in my appearance. 

“They left 5 minutes ago baby,” Jack smiled through his teeth as he set down the spoon he was using to stir something. Jack strides over to me, wrapping his arms around my waist as his warm lips pressed to my cheek. My eyes fluttered closed as I took in his scent, somehow he always smells of sandalwood. “You look beautiful baby,” Jack complimented as he leaned back taking in my appearance once again. 

“Thanks Jacky,” I returned his smile as I gave his biceps a squeeze. My bottom lip pulled in between my teeth as I took in his look once more, his t-shirt accentuated his muscles in all the right way. I was on fire right now. Before I knew it, Jack was spinning me around and steering me towards one of the chairs at the island. Pulling out the chair, he gestured for me to take a seat, I smiled as he helped me into the stool and pushed me closer to the island. “What a gentleman,” I smirked as he made his way to the fridge. 

“Wine or beer Kira?” He asked, glancing over his shoulder as he held the door open. 

“Do you have Rosè?” I asked softly. 

“Do I have Rosè?” Jack snorted. “Of course I do, it’s your favorite,” he replied as he pulled out a bottle and set out for a glass. Jack was quiet as he went to the cabinet for a glass, I watched him intently, noticing that his hand shook as he pulled the glass from the cabinet. Shaking hands seemed out of character for him. 

He sweetly placed the glass of wine in front of me and placed a chaste kiss on my forehead before stepping away to return to the meal. He was laser focused on the pot on the stove as silence filled the room around us. Silence was so unusual for Jack, usually it was hard to get him to stop talking. His movements were jerky as he flung the fridge door open, pulling vegetables out left and right. A tomato slid from his fingers and bounced on the floor when he let out a ‘shit’ under his breath. Something was definitely up. 

“So what’s on the menu chef Jack?” I asked, trying to ease the tension that had built up quickly in the room. Jack didn’t answer me right away as he was searching the cabinets for a cutting board. Silence droned on, the only thing to be heard was the shutting of cabinets. “Jack?”

“Huh?” He questioned as I regained his attention. This was completely unlike him, he was usually so attentive to me while we were together. Something was up. 

“Okay, Jack come here a second,” I held out my hands for him as he dropped the cutting board on the counter for me and came to stand in front of me, his hands shaking as he laced his fingers with mine. “Jacky what’s going on?”

“Nothing, what do you mean?” He deadpanned, eyes darting around as he avoided my gaze. 

“Jacky, look at me,” one of my hands dropped his as I took his face in my hand gently, giving him no other option but to look at me. “You seem stressed, what’s going on?” I asked once more. His eyes shut, as he leaned into my touch. 

“Kira it’s nothing,” he brushed off again. 

“It’s so clearly not nothing Jack, you can tell me anything,” I encouraged as I stroked his cheek gently. His eyes opened and his gaze finally met mine. 

“Anything?”

“Anything Jacky.”

He let out a shaky breath before beginning, “I’m nervous I guess because I want tonight to be special.” 

Gently yanking him closer to me, his other arm wrapped around my waist. “Jacky, you have gone out of your way to make this whole trip special. Truly, you have been so attentive to everything I need. What is it about tonight?”

“I just has to be special,” he sighed. 

“Why? Are you nervous that I won't like the food?”

“No it’s not that, it’s…” he trailed off, seemingly searching his mind for the right words. I continued to stroke his cheek, offering him my silent but gentle reassurance. He has been such a rock for me, and has allowed me to feel safe opening up about so many things. I want him to feel the same way about me. It’s not too often I see a guy showing his emotions or his nerves. This is actually quite refreshing. “I’m nervous that I’m going to screw this up,” he blurted out suddenly. My eyes softened at his confession, love flooding my face as the middle Hughes boy gazed down at me. 

“Jacky, why do you think you’re going to screw this up?” I asked gently. 

“Kira, this is my first adult relationship. I haven’t ever had a serious girlfriend, you’ve been through so much and I don’t want to mess this up. I don’t want to hurt you,” Jack confessed. My other hand dropped his as both my arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him even closer to me. 

“Jack, you are so incredibly caring, sensitive, and affectionate. You make me feel things that no one else ever has. I know you’re worried, and I was too but you make me feel safe.” Jack’s gaze softened as he looked down at me. 

“I do?”

“Yes Jack, you make me feel more safe than any relationship I’ve ever had. Just because you haven’t had a serious relationship, doesn’t mean you’re going to screw this up,” I explained as my fingers toyed with the ends of his hair. 

“You think so?” He questioned. 

“I can’t guarantee everything will be perfect but we’re so good together. You are so mature Jack, who cares that this is your first adult relationship.”

A smile danced across his lips at my words, “can I tell Quinn that you called me mature?” He joked as we both burst out in laughter. 

“I’ll tell him myself,” I teased as he wrapped his arms around my waist and held me close. “Do you feel better?”

He nodded silently, “thank you,” he gave me a squeeze. 

“Always Jacky,” I smiled as I leaned into his embrace. We stayed like this for a few moments, reveling in each other's touch. “Now can I go back to something you said?” I broke the silence. “You said you’ve never had a serious girlfriend, is that what I am to you?”

Jack leaned back in my arms and studied my face, clearly trying to gauge my reaction. “Girlfriend?” He asked to which I nodded, teeth sinking into my bottom lip as I anticipated his response. “I would like you to be that, my girlfriend.”

I was quiet for a moment before a smile broke out on my lips, “really?” my voice filled with hope. 

“Kira, be mine, be my girlfriend,” Jack stated confidently, he definitely has his swagger back. Confident but not cocky. 

“Only if you’ll be my boyfriend Jacky,” I giggled. His signature smirk graced his face at my silly response. 

“That sounds like a fair deal,” he commented as he chased my lips. As he leaned in and our lips brushed each other’s he asked, “so you’re my girlfriend?”

“Yes,” I giggled as his breath danced against my skin. “And you’re my boyfriend?”

“Damn right,” he chuckled before finally planting his lips on mine. I melted into his warmth as our lips danced on one another’s. The kiss was hungry and passionate as the tension of everything that was unsaid over the past weeks was finally out in the open. Jack Hughes is my boyfriend, I thought as I smiled against his lips. This gave him the perfect opportunity to slip his tongue past my lips as he deepened the kiss. 

We broke apart when the kitchen timer started chiming, both so startled we practically jumped. I reluctantly let Jack go tend to the food, though I would be content spending the whole night wrapped in his arms, cuddling, amongst other things. 

“So, what’s on the menu boyfriend?,” the words dripped off my lips like velvet. Jack couldn’t hide the smile that was spread across his face. 

“Greek chicken, lemon roasted potatoes, and salad,” Jack listed as he checked on the dish in the oven and reset the timer before turning his attention back to the vegetables on the island that needed to be chopped. 

“That sounds amazing, my boyfriend is such a chef,” I teased as he tried to focus on the food in front of him. 

“No distractions or this will be a failed attempt at being a chef,” he smirked as he started cutting the tomato. 

“Need any help?” I asked, ready to rise from my stool. 

“No!” Jack practically shouted. “Tonight is all about you and how special you are, so stay relaxing,” his gaze was intense as he mentioned how special I am. I practically combusted right then and there at the intensity in his eyes. They were burning a hole in me, tonight definitely was special. 

“Well I am the luckiest girlfriend,” I smiled as I leaned back and sipped my wine. Jack in fact remembered my favorite brand. 

“I’d say I’m the lucky one,” he commented as he tossed the chopped tomatoes in a bowl.

I happily enjoyed the show as he literally waited on me for the rest of the evening. My wine glass never emptied, and when I wanted to move on to something else so I wasn’t drunk before the food came, he had sweet tea ready for me. As the evening went on, he lit candles that suddenly appeared on the island. I was surprised there were candles anywhere to be found in this lake house. When dinner was ready, I was beyond impressed at the caliber of his cooking skills. The meal was even better than the one I served him on our first date. 

The evening really did remind me of our first date as he cleaned up the meal and insisted I sit and relax. We’ve really come so far from that first date though. We barely knew each other then, but now it feels like I’ve known him forever. He’s my boyfriend and I’m his girlfriend. He’s mine and I’m his. I want tonight to be even more special. 

After dinner, we made our way to the couch in the living room as I settled in his arms. “You know, you really did make me feel special tonight,” I commented as I stared up at him. He met my gaze and smiled, giving my shoulder a squeeze as he did so. 

“Good, I wanted to. You deserve this all the time, you make me feel special all the time,” his voice dropped a few octaves as he shifted on the couch, pulling me even closer into his side. 

“You are special,” I licked my lips as I continued to stare into his eyes. His gaze is so intense, I felt my thighs squeeze together, desperate for some friction. Jack’s hand shifted from my shoulder to my thigh as my breath became so shallow it practically left my body. “Thank you for this whole night Jacky,” my voice shook as I spoke. 

“Anything for you pretty girl,” his voice so sweet it practically dripped honey. That was a first with that nickname and set fireworks off in my entire body. 

“You know, now that we’re official there is something I’ve been meaning to tell you,” a mischievous smile spread across my lips. 

“Oh yeah,” he leaned forward as his hand slid further up my thigh. 

“You look hot in that shirt,” I breathed out. The tension in the air was thick, palpable. 

“Do I?” He smirked as he leaned over me, his lips were close enough to feel their warmth. 

“Jacky,” I let out a whine. Need so deep within my body that I didn’t recognize it, my whole body was tingling. So sensitive that one touch might do me in. 

“Kira,” he teased as his tongue ran across his bottom lip. I let out a nervous breath, gathering whatever courage I needed. God, I felt like I was floating. 

“I need you,” as soon as the words left my lips Jack leaned into me with the most intense, earth shattering kiss I have ever experienced. He quickly pushed me back on the couch, settling on top of me as my thighs wrapped around his hips. Heat pooled within me as my desire grew even more for Jack.  A moan escaped my lips as he nipped at my lip, he was intoxicating. 

He settled more of his weight on me as I felt him brush against my core. “Jack!” I gasped as shocks ran through me. His fingers toyed with the strap of my romper, gently sliding it down my shoulder. My skin burned at his touch.  I never wanted this to end, I wanted his hands on my skin forever. 

Just as Jack started toying with my other strap, causing me to whimper, the back door to the lake house swung open quite aggressively. 

“Jack man, I need to use your shower,” Trevor exclaimed as Jack and I scrambled apart. Sitting up on the couch, I fiddled with the strap of my romper, making sure everything was back inside where it should be. Despite our disheveled appearance, none of the boys seemed any the wiser as they barged back into the lake house. 

“Why do you need my shower?” Jack questioned, his voice filled with annoyance at his friend's rude interruption. They were so oblivious to what they just barged into. 

“Cole spilled his beer on me when some girl puked on Quinn and Luke. So safe to say the showers will be occupied,” he explained as all the guys filed through the kitchen, some settling on the couches and some filing into the respective bathrooms. 

“Soo, how was dinner?” excitement filled Cole’s voice as he wiggled his eyebrows at us. Jack and I exchanged a heated look, Alex was turning on the tv as Matty was doling out the gaming controllers. Oh my gosh they’re never going to leave us alone. 

“Dinner was good, ya know, I was actually going to take Kira out for a boat ride,” Jack uttered as he reached for my hand and pulled me off the couch as he rose up. Smiling gratefully at him, we both started to scurry out of the living room. 

“But the sun is setting, why would you go out on the boat?” Brady questioned as some game was being fired up on the flatscreen. 

“Sunset tour,” Jack scrambled as we both stumbled to throw on shoes. Desperate for the touch of one another and nervous that the boys would follow once more. 

“Yeah, it’s going to be beautiful,” I proclaimed as I yanked the door open. 

“Gotta go, don’t want to miss it,” Jack called as he pulled the door closed behind him and wrapped his arm around me again.

 We practically sprinted off the deck and down the grass to the dock, still fearing that the boys would be behind us suddenly. We made it to the dock in no time as Jack and I started untying the ropes, luckily I had experience in this, so we could move things along more quickly. Jack hopped in the boat, reaching out his hand to help me in. 

Once I was settled in a seat, Jack got behind the wheel and fired up the engine. Not hesitating as he threw the boat in gear and sped away from the dock. My knee was bouncing as the water whipped past us, both of us clearing eager to resume our activities. “Don’t worry, I know a really secluded spot,” Jack commented as he glanced at me briefly. 

“Oh, do this often Hughes?” I teased at his comment, shifting forward in my seat. 

“No, god, no I—,” he stammered. My hand went to rest on his knee, squeezing a little. 

“Just hurry,” I instructed and hurry he did. It took us a few minutes but we made it to a quiet spot away from the other houses and the prying eyes of others. Jack shut off the boat, turned on the dim lights before coming to sit on the bench next to me. He slid his arm around my shoulder as I leaned into him, my head resting on the shoulder as we enjoyed the quiet nature surrounding us. 

“You know, we don’t have to do this,” his voice just above a whisper as we watched a duck swim by. 

Turning my head, I glanced up to read his expression. “Jack, I want to!”

“I just don’t want you to feel rushed, or pressured because we made it official tonight,” his gaze met mine as his blue eyes stared deeply into mine. A rush of warmth flooded through me, desire yes, but also a sense of safety and gratitude. 

“I don’t feel rushed at all Jack, I want this,” I gestured between us. “I want you.” His eyes darkened as our gaze remained interlocked. 

“If you’re sure,” he wondered out loud once more. I nodded eagerly as a smirk danced across his lips. His hand tangled in my hair as he pulled me in for a searing kiss. Lips locked in a heated make out session, only breaking apart as we both fumbled to pull Jack’s shirt over his head. 

His tongue quickly won the battle against mine as I moaned against his lips, pulling away for air, both huffing as I reached for the straps of my romper. Pulling the straps against my fingers and sliding them to the edge of my shoulders, I let them drop down. Getting bold, I stood up, letting the romper slide down my body as it pooled at my feet. Jack groaned as he pulled me back to the bench. 

“I like this,” he smirked as he ran his fingers along the lacy material of my strapless bra. His fingers brushed my skin as they slid around my back to unclasp the bra. The bra was pulled from my body as Jack let out a sharp breath. “Shit you are beautiful,” he whispered as he leaned forward to nibble on my neck. 

Sucking and nipping playful he trailed down my neck to my collar bone before licking my skin and taking his nipple in my mouth. Twirling his tongue around my nipple I threw my head back, a moan escaping me as he continued sucking my breast. His other hand slid up my stomach, before pinching my other nipple in his fingers. 

“Oh god Jack,” I whimpered as he continued licking and nipping my sensitive skin. “Don’t tease me,” I whined as my hand knotted in his hair. 

“Let me make you feel good baby,” his voice was soft yet full of desire. I nodded my head, wetness pooled in my core as he gently eased me onto my back on the bench, placing kisses on my chest and stomach as he slithered his way down my body. “Can I take these off?” He questioned as his fingers ghosted over my underwear, snapping the lacy strap against my skin. 

Nodding my head vigorously, I opened my legs to help him out. He chuckled lowly, “I need your words baby.” He continued to toy with the lace underwear as I squirmed underneath him. 

“Yes Jacky,” I whined as he finally hooked his thumbs under the material. Lifting my hips as he pulled the underwear down my legs, he didn’t let me settle after that. Sliding my legs over his shoulders he settled between my thighs, pressing gentle kisses to my sensitive skin. 

“Good girl,” his voice filled with pride as his breath ghosted over my sensitive core. 

“No teasing,” I warned as I leaned up on my elbows to make eye contact with him. 

“Not teasing,” he smirked. Before I could respond he wrapped his perfect lips around my clit and sucked gently. My arms went weak as I fell back and moaned. “That feel good baby?” 

“Yes,” I moaned out as he twirled his tongue around my sensitive bud. Wrapping his lips around it once more, he sucked harder as my eyes shut, bliss setting in. My hand laced through his hair as I tugged on his disheveled locks. “More Jack,” I moaned as his tongue dragged through my folds. 

“Tell me what you need baby.” 

All I could do was whimpered and writhe beneath him as his tongue toyed with my entrance. My grip on his hair tightened as his tongue prodded my sopping entrance, it’s been too long since someone has touched me like this. Every move of his tongue consumed me, I was floating in a haze of pleasure. I was drunk on Jack Hughes.

“Jack,” I cried out. He lifted his head as I whimpered as the loss of his mouth. 

“What do you need, baby? Want you to feel good,” he encouraged. 

“Your fingers,” I whined, desperate to feel him again. 

“My fingers,” he smirked up at me. 

“And that amazing tongue,” I breathed out as our eyes met for a second. He stared at me a moment longer before I gave him another tug on his hair. My legs quivered as I anticipated his burning touch on my skin. 

“Good girl baby,” he exclaimed before he dove back in, his tongue swirling around my clit again as one of his fingers teased my entrance. By this time I was practically dripping as he slid his finger into me and started thrusting. He moved his finger for a few moments before a second finger teased my hole. He pumped his fingers inside me before curling them in a way that made me see stars. 

“Jack,” I cried out as I arched off the bench, my other hand curling into his hair. Jack started pumping his fingers faster as he felt me squeeze around him, I wasn’t going to last much longer. He flattened his tongue against my clit and shook his head back and forth. “I’m close,” I whimpered as he gently nipped at my clit. 

“Let go baby,” he encouraged as I gripped his fingers like a vice. Heat was spreading through my whole body as tension built in my stomach like an elastic that was about to snap. All the sucking and the thrusting of his fingers was too much. Jack wrapped his fingers around my clit and sucked hard which sent me over the edge. Crying out his name as I grinded down against his fingers. My whole body was pulsing as I rode out my high, as he pumped his fingers a few more times before pulling them out. This was a state of bliss I have never felt before, no man has ever given me this attention, intent solely upon giving me pleasure. 

He licked his fingers clean of my juices as he settled between my thighs again. I whimpered at the sight and the loss of his touch. His forehead pressed to mine, “you taste amazing, good girl.”

“You’re amazing,” I exclaimed as my chest was rising as I caught my breath. Jack pressed his lips to mine, swirling his tongue with mine so I could taste my juices. “My turn,” I mumbled against his lips. 

“Baby I’m not going to last, need to be inside you,” as he pressed his lips to mine again. He pulled away to unbutton his jeans, quickly kicking them off with his boxers. His hard cock sprung up as he shed the last of his clothes. Licking my lips I took in his full appearance, he was big, but not aggressively so. Those thighs and his biceps, I was in pure heaven. 

“Wait, do you have a condom?” I paused, breaking away from the blissful dream I was living. His movements froze for a moment, his head dropped. 

“Shit!” He exclaimed. I groaned in frustration at the thought of this ending. 

“I suppose you don’t keep any on here?” I gestured to the boat. He shook his head in disappointment. We were both silent for a moment as he hovered over me. Neither of us moved as the tension stopped time. “Well, are you clean?” I asked, breaking the silence. 

“Am I clean?” He repeated, staring down at me. “Yes I am,” he responded hesitantly. 

I let out a sigh of relief, “So am I, so screw the condom.”

His eyes widened at my words, “Are you sure?” I nodded in response. “So I’ll have to pull out?” He asked. 

“I'm on the pill,” I reassured him. The fear and disappointment that had crept onto his face quickly melted away as a smile formed once more. He reached down and gave himself a few tugs, making sure he was ready. 

“Let's do this,” he settled between my thighs, running the tip of his cock through my folds. “Ready?” He paused as he took himself in his hand and prodded my entrance. 

“Yes Jacky,” I nodded as he slowly slid inside stretching my walls to their capacity. He went slowly as I gripped him tightly. Squeezing my eyes shut I let out a shaky breath, trying to relax as he bottomed out. 

“You okay,” he paused his movements. 

“Yeah, just been a while,” I whimpered as he filled me to the core. His movements remained halted as his hand slid between us and his fingers began toying with my clit. Quickly the pain of being so full turned into a searing pleasure as I moaned at his ministrations. “You can move,” I breathed. Jack pulled out before rolling his hips against mine, resuming his movements. His hands rested on my hips as he thrusted into me, fingers pressing crescents into my skin as I gasped. 

“Shit Kira,” he groaned as I clenched around him. He snapped his hips harder, sliding me back on the seat. My head was now hanging off the edge of the bench as Jack pounded into me, skin slapping against skin as he moved me further off the bench with each thrust of his hips. 

My neck was not enjoying this angle, as my hand found his chest and pushed against him. “Stop!” I said gently. His movements froze instantly. 

“Did I hurt you?” Nerves filled his voice as I lifted my head to meet his eyes. 

“No Jack! You feel amazing, this isn’t working for my neck though.”

“Oh shit, you’re like half off the bench,” he commented as he finally took in the full extent of the force his thrusts had. 

“Why don’t you take a seat,” I suggested as my hand pushed against his chest more firmly. He pulled out as I drew my legs closer to my chest and sat up. He sat back against the bench, thighs splaying open. Grabbing onto his shoulders, nails scraping his skin as I swung my leg over his lap so I was straddling him. Rolling my hips against his, we both let out a moan. 

“No teasing,” he whined. Smiling at the effect I had on him, I reached down between us and lined his cock up with my entrance. I finally sink down on him as a moan escapes my parted lips. A groan escapes Jack as I start grinding against his pubic bone. Gently rocking my hips, twisting them in a circle as I envelope him within my velvety walls. 

I lift myself up, sliding down as I start to bounce on his cock, he slides into me deeper at this angle. My hands rest on his chest as I rock myself back and forth. My eyes roll back as our skin slaps against each other gasping in pleasure. 

“Doing so good,” Jack whispers as his fingers palm at my ass. My pace quickens as I feel myself squeeze around him at the sound of his praise. 

“Jack, fuck,” I cry out as I bounce up and down. “I’m not going to last long.” My legs start to ache from my movements as the knot in my stomach grows tighter. Jack plants his feet on the floor, lifting his hips to meet mine. 

“So good, fuck,” he breathes out as I squeeze him harder. “Such a good girl.” The pressure grows more intense as I feel him twitch inside me, “you like that don’t you?” He asks as I let out another gasp. 

“Jack,” I cried as he plowed into me, my hips rocking harder against his. Leaning my head down I capture his lips in mine as his finger snakes around my waist and starts rubbing circles on my clit. The pressure builds as I squeeze around Jack. I sink my teeth into his lip as I clench harder. 

“Come on baby,” Jack encourages as he rocks his hips up to meet mine. My legs start shaking as I stop my movements, my breath hitching as Jack continues to pound into me. My orgasm hits me like a freight train as I drop my head against Jack’s shoulder. He lets out a strangled groan as he rocks against me a few times before I feel his warmth fill me up. Slowly his hips drop as I drop back into his lap, he presses soft kisses against my neck as we both struggle to catch our breath. 

“That was—,” I trail off, still blissing out from my high. 

“Fucking amazing,” Jack whispers in my ear, giving me a playful nip on my earlobe. We both stay wrapped around each other, as he stays inside me until we fully catch our breath. “Here baby, my good girl,” he helps me off my lap, I whimper as he pulls out and stands up. He walks to the adjacent bench, lifting the seat and rustling around, he pulls out a towel and comes back. Spreading my thighs gently as he runs the towel along our juices that are dripping out of me, cleaning up the mess we made. 

Once he’s done cleaning me up he tosses the towel to the side, grabbing a fresh towel. He sits down on the bench and pulls me into his lap, draping the towel over the two of us. “I’m so glad you could come see the lake house,” he whispers before pressing a soft kiss to my temple. 

“Me too,” I whispered softly, wrapping my arms around his waist. 

“Do you want to head back?” 

“No, want to stay like this for a while,” I nuzzled closer to him as I took in the night sky that was enveloping us. Pressing a kiss to my temple, he pulled me in closer as we snuggled and watched the stars. Truly appreciating the calmness of the nature around us as the gentle waves caused the boat to sway ever so slightly. 

I truly was glad I could make the trip down here to see Jack’s lake. This was a place he absolutely loved and I was so grateful to share that experience with him. We both clearly loved lake life in the summer, I feel so honored that he shared his favorite place with me as I had shared mine. To think that yesterday I was a nervous wreck in the airport wondering what our relationship was. Now we’re sitting here under the stars, and I can officially say that Jack Hughes is my boyfriend. As hesitant as I was when I first met him, I am so happy that I pushed through those nerves and put my heart first. He may just be the greatest thing to ever happen to me. 

#jack hughes #my writing #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes blurb #jack hughes smut #jack hughes fic #nhl imagine #nhl #nhl hockey #hockey #nj devils #new jersey devils #quinn hughes #luke hughes

[cxsmicbaby]

something nice - 1

CHAPTER ONE OF A SERIES 

pairing : miguel o’hara x fem!reader

word count: 4.1k

warnings : smut at the end! cursing throughout. enjoy :)

you and hobie play a prank. miguel doesn’t like it, but he can never stay mad at you. 

                                                      𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪

“And then... my uncle died.” 

“Mmhm.” The smell of hot coffee grows stronger. It’s mere inches away.. I just have to suffer through this for a moment longer. 

“And I realized. I’m not even real! I’m just a clone of the real Peter. And that totally destroyed me.”

“Oh wow,” I say, nodding. Ben, or Scarlet Spider, continues to go on about his tragic backstory, somehow still managing to flex his biceps as he begins to well up in tears. 

Finally, the spider in front of me finishes filling their mug and it’s my turn. God, if I had to stand in line with this melodramatic asshole for a second longer I think I would’ve tried to cut my own ears off. He’s still talking as I fill my cup with coffee, but this time I’m not listening. It’s probably some variation of the same things I’ve been through, anyhow. I wonder how Miguel is able to sit through thousands and thousands of these things whenever he recruits a new spider. He’s not a very patient guy. 

Miguel. He walks through the lobby at 5:30am, every morning. I woke up early today so that I would run into him. Not like I said anything to him; I walked past him, smiling, and he just grunted. Just about what I expected. But I still woke up early to see him. I feel a little stupid thinking about it. I’ll probably do it again tomorrow. 

“Yeah, Ben, that really sucks. Maybe you should see a therapist.” I turn and give him a pat on the shoulder, smiling as genuinely as I can. He nods, and wipes his teary eyes. This guy cries way too easily. 

I swing off into the main lobby. Thank god, I can be free. I don’t know what the plan is today, but I’m always up for an adventure. 

“Oi!” I hear, and behind me Hobie is swinging forward, his mask already on. That must mean there’s something happening. Regardless, I’m always happy to see him. He’s probably the only person I really talk to here; other than Miguel. 

“Hey! Got anything for me?” I ask, as we land on a free platform. Hobie pauses for a moment before he starts digging around in his pockets, and pulls out a bag of my favorite snack from his universe; unfortunately, it doesn’t exist anywhere else, so I depend on this not-so-dependable guy to bring them for me. 5/10 times he actually remembers it. 

“What’s with the drink? I thought you hated coffee,” he asks, plopping himself down on the edge of the platform. I do the same, and we watch as the spiders swing and climb all over the place, like a jungle gym. Every time I take a step back from this whole thing like this, it always amazes me. Just a few weeks ago, I was stuck in a universe where I was the only one, and now I’m in a place where everyone is just as corny as me. It’s lovely. 

“I do,” I start, taking a sip of it. I fight the way my lips threaten to purse in disgust. “I needed a pick me up.”

“Ah.” Hobie pulls at a loose thread of his shirt and smiles deviously. “Up all night thinking about Miguel, huh?” 

Hobie is far too observant for my liking. There’s nothing that gets past him, which is great for combat, but not great for me. 

I swallow hard, and shake my head. “No. And you should stop saying shit like that! What if someone overhears? They’ll think something weird is going on.”

“Like?” Here we go. 

“Like. They’ll think I’m in love with him or something. We’re just friends. He’s cool. I’m cool. Everything’s cool.” I sound like an idiot, and I know Hobie thinks the same when I hear him laugh. It’s like I’m a fucking teenager again, gossiping about my crush in the locker-room. I hated high school. 

“Cool, cool. Everything’s cool,” he teases, mocking me. 

We’re both quiet, basking for a moment in the odd sort of peace that comes out of this chaotic place. 

Hobie snickers softly, shaking his head at something that he’s thought of. “Heard some of the others talking bout how Miguel’s pickin’ favorites. Guess who’s the favorite?”

I sigh, and down the rest of the disgusting black liquid. “Whatever. I’m not his, uh. His favorite. He talks down to me like all the rest.” 

Hobie is quiet. That’s rare. When I look over at him he’s just staring down, a weird sort of smile still on his face. His fingers are drumming against the platform. 

“Hey, what’re we gonna do today? Please say you’ve got something fun.” 

That seems to get him, because his head perks up and that teasing expression is replaced by one of excitement. Thank god. If I had to talk about Miguel for another second it would not have ended well—I tend to get a little loose with the things I say the longer I’m forced to talk about them. 

“Something fun, eh? I’ve got something fun. But only if you’re up for it.” 

I smile. “You know I am.” 

Compared to a lot of the others, I’ve been here for a very short time. Still, I’ve learned the ins and outs, the dos and the don’ts. Like, do listen to what the higher ups (and Lyla) say. Don’t make fun of Miguel’s tediously slow entrance on that weird platform thing. Do make friends. Don’t be an ass. And for god’s sake, do not pull any pranks. 

The thing about spider people; we tend not to really listen to rules. 

Hobie and I are perched on a bar above the lobby. We’re trying to figure out the best way to go about things. Me, I think he should take charge, but he seems to think nobody really likes him, so they won’t listen. He thinks they’ll all fall in line with my beguiling feminine charms and do whatever I say. I think that sounds like bullshit, but I don’t really wanna do the other thing, so I agree to it. 

I drop down smack in the middle of a group of spider-people in a conversation. Immediately, I put on the most panicked expression I can muster and start running around frantically. 

“Jessica’s gone into labor! I repeat, Jessica is giving birth at this moment! Help her get back home so she can go to a hospital... or something!” I shout, trying to get as much attention as I possibly can. Of course, everyone loves Jessica, so everyone starts rushing to her aid. None of them actually know where she is, but they just launch into help-mode, as Spiderman does. Soon, the lobby is basically empty. Sometimes, I think about how gullible I must be if I’m really just a variation of this same person. 

“Coast’s clear,” Hobie calls, dropping down from above. “We don’t have a lotta time, gotta make this quick.” 

I frown. “We? But you said all I had to do was get them out!” 

“Yeah, that was a lie.” Hobie shrugs and tosses me a spray can. “Now, you gonna help or not?” 

The idea of getting caught spraying painting the building Miguel has built specifically for us makes me queasy. The idea of being caught doing anything that would make him upset makes me queasy. But if I back out now, then I just made a fool of myself for no reason. I don’t mind looking stupid, but it’s gotta be for a reason. 

I sigh, and reach up to tug my mask over my face in case someone realizes that Jessica is not even here right now, and decides to come back. I mean, not like I would really be hiding much, considering everyone knows what my suit looks like, but there’s no harm in it. 

The moment I pull it down, the room is doused in red light and an alarm starts blaring. Fuck. 

“You gotta be fuckin’ kidding me, mate,” Hobie groans, tossing his head back in frustration. “That old man did not just sound the alarm ‘cause we’re pulling a goddamn prank. Might as well do as much as we can before the rest of ‘em come back.” 

That does not sound like a good idea. If Miguel is angry enough to turn on the alarm that signifies intruders, he will definitely not like us continuing in spite of his obvious warning. But Hobie’s already swinging up, spraying bright purple in a strangely elegant ribbon across the walls. I start to hear footsteps, but they’re far enough away that I think I have some time. So, despite my better judgement, I follow Hobie, tagging wherever he’s painted with a green design of my own. Gotta admit, it looks pretty dope. That assuages my fears somewhat and I find myself letting go a little, whooping in excitement as I swing around the lobby. 

Then, I hear it again. Footsteps, but I know these very specific footsteps. Heavy, fast, angry. My stomach drops and I land, turning to Hobie to see he’s still painting away. He probably hears it too, he just doesn’t care. I wish I could be as carefree as him. Especially when it came to this sort of thing. 

But I can’t. In fact, once Miguel actually appears in the room, hair slightly disheveled, face twisted up in an almost scary amount of anger, I freeze in place. God, he’s fucking fuming. His eyes sweep the room like we just painted Miguel Sux! in somebody’s blood. And then his gaze lands on me, and I feel myself shiver; in fear, in anticipation, in... something else. 

“What the fuck are you doing?!” Miguel bellows, and that catches Hobie’s attention. Before he can say anything else, the flake is gone. Typical Hobie. Saving his own ass. I can’t even really be mad at him, because if it weren’t for the annoying way my feet were sticking to the ground I would’ve done the same. 

The alarm shuts off, and the room goes deadly quiet. I’m still staring at him as he approaches me, his chest heaving as he takes deep breaths, probably trying to calm himself down. He needs to see a therapist, I think, but don’t have time to even smile at my own quip before he’s looming right above me. 

“Do you get joy out of causing this type of shit? Out of wasting everyone’s time?” Miguel spits, and I know I’m supposed to be hurt by what he’s saying, but god if I don’t wanna just pounce at him right here, right now. 

So I keep my mouth shut. He doesn’t seem to like that. His fists are clenched tight at his sides as he studies me. 

“You know, if I knew you were gonna be such a fucking nuisance, I would never have brought you here.”

Ouch. That one sort of hurts, so I take off my mask and I look up at him, trying to keep my composure. I frown. “It was just some harmless fun, Miguel. No need to get so mean about it.” 

That was not the right thing to say, apparently, because his eyebrows furrow even deeper. Before he can open his mouth to say something that will probably make me cry, I force a smile and swing up to the wall. 

“And it looks great! Don’t you think this place is too... I don’t know. Sterile? Everyone’s gonna love it.” I hope he can’t hear the way my voice is trembling. When I hear my words echo back to me, I’m relieved to find that I sound quite confident. I’ve always been good at that, faking like I know what I’m doing. I think that’s a Spider-man thing. 

Miguel doesn’t speak. He crosses his arms over his chest and inhales deeply, hanging his head. 

“You are going to clean this shit up. Understood? And when I find that little shit Hobie, I’m gonna tell him the same thing.” 

I think that’s the closest I’ll get to him saying he isn’t really that mad about it, and that’s good enough for me. I swing back down to stand in front of him, and this time when I smile, it’s real. 

“Are you sure? I’m telling you, it looks super—”

Miguel’s eyes narrow and I feel my stomach twist. “Don’t test me.” 

I straighten up and salute him, fighting the urge to run as Miguel’s eyes burn into mine. “Yes, sir!” 

I swear to god, he almost smiles, before he just shakes his head. 

“Don’t do shit like this again. I won’t go so easy on you next time.” 

                                                       𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪

“You don’t let yourself have anything, do you?” 

Miguel pauses. He finds himself looking up at you, despite the desire to remain stoic and focused and uninterested. It’s always hard to do that, with you. 

“What?” he says, his voice slightly biting. He means it to be. He wants to scare you away so you will leave him alone, finally. It’s been mere weeks since you joined them, and in those weeks, you have made it your mission to annoy him more than anyone ever has in his life. It’s like you live to bother him. He should hate it more than he does. 

He should hate your stupid fucking pranks and your dumb, unfunny jokes. But he doesn’t. He knew it was you today, even before he got to the lobby, but for some reason he wasn’t that mad. And then the fact that he wasn’t mad about it made him mad about it, and he was mean to you. He wants to apologize, but that’s not like him. Everything he does or feels when it comes to you is a contradiction to the person he has built himself up as. The whole thing is just so muddled up he’d rather ignore it. 

You sit on a metal box to his left, swinging your legs back and forth as you scrutinize him. Miguel doesn’t like how you always have this knowing look on your face, like you’re waiting for him to discover something you’ve already found out. Frankly, all the Spider-people have that sort of glint in their eyes, but with you it’s different. He bites the inside of his cheek and forces himself not to look away. 

“I mean, you don’t let yourself have anything nice, or fun. The closest you get to letting yourself feel happiness is those empanadas you make me bring you.” 

You smile at him, and he thinks to himself that he wishes you would do it more, but the moment the thought passes he stamps it out with a frown. 

“And even then, you always scowl when you eat them.” You cancel out his grimace with a little laugh that makes Miguel fucking furious.

“You know, it’s not in your best interest to keep talking about this. If causing a useless ruckus is fun to you, then yeah, I don’t fucking do that.” He practically spits it, and swivels his head to focus again on his work. He doesn’t know if he wants you to apologize or if he wants you to just go. Apologize? He’s kidding himself. You would never. 

He can’t help but listen carefully for your movements, wanting to hear if you’ll leave or not. But he hears nothing, and he turns again to see you just sitting there, swinging your feet. Still smiling. 

“What are you still doing here? Don’t you have shit to do?” Miguel asks, narrowing his eyes at you. He notices that his tone lacks the sting he meant it to deliver and chooses to ignore it. 

You boost yourself up from the box and stand. “Not really. Can’t I just stay? I won’t make any noise, promise.” 

Miguel frowns deeply. “That’s impossible.” But he doesn’t tell you to leave. 

You sigh, your body swaying side to side. Miguel thinks its a subconscious thing you do when you’re standing; most people would just be still, but he’s noticed that you cannot possibly remain perfectly in place for more than a few seconds. 

“Yeah, whatever. I’m gonna get some sleep. You should too.” You send him a small wink and turn, walking off toward the exit. You stop briefly, turning to face him with an expression he can’t quite read.

“And, uh. Sorry about today,” you call, and he says nothing. You turn again and he watches you leave. 

Everything has changed since you showed up, and if anything can be taken from his obsession with anomalies, it’s that Miguel hates change. Especially when it seems like there isn’t much changing for anyone but himself. 

It was him that found you. He went on a mission to a universe he had not yet traveled; a rare occasion, because it wasn’t to destroy an anomaly, but because something was telling him to go. It wasn’t like a voice, or even a sense. More like a feeling. There was something there for him to discover and so he went without saying anything, hoping he’d be back before anyone noticed. 

Miguel found you on the roof of a museum. You were sitting on the edge, swinging your feet back and forth, just staring into the streets. You had your mask off, which he remembered thinking was incredibly stupid, seeing as it was still light out. Your suit was nothing to gawk at, nothing too different than the hundreds of others he had seen, but for some reason he knew it was you he was supposed to find. You, he had been called to. For what, he didn’t know.  

You noticed him before he intended you to. When you saw him, you didn’t look shocked, or scared; you looked happy. No one had been happy to see him in a long time. 

“How long you been standing there?” you asked, turning your body to face him. You crossed your legs and watched him approach, staring up at him like he was someone you knew, someone you had been waiting for. 

Miguel was quiet. He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to say. 

“You know, one of us is gonna have to change.” And you laughed hard at your own dumb joke. Your laugh made him uncomfortable, how truly happy it sounded, how real it felt. You seemed like you hadn’t yet experienced the tragic things that came with being a Spiderman. You seemed innocent. Like you needed to be protected. 

And by god, you were beautiful. The suit didn’t leave much to the imagination. 

The thought startled him and he stayed quiet.  

“Your suit is super cool. Kinda cyberpunk.” You stood and you watched him carefully, walking slowly around him in a circle. Miguel’s eyes followed you, his body on guard as if you were going to suddenly lunge at him. 

“Why aren’t you... surprised?” Miguel finally said, his tone accusatory. But you didn’t seem to notice, and if you did you didn’t mind. You stopped in front of him and stuck your hand out, inviting him to shake it. 

“Welcome to Earth-72, Miguel. I’ve been waiting for you.” 

And that’s how he found out about a Dr. Strange, and how you knew about Miguel already; in fact, you were expecting him. The idea made him irrationally angry. Someone like you, obviously flippant and probably reckless, with knowledge about something as dangerous as the multiverse? You were most likely new to your abilities, to the mask. You were too naive and carefree not to be. 

But Miguel was wrong. You had long been bitten, lost your uncle, your sister, your best friend. You just seemed to lack that bitterness that he saw in the others, in himself. You were happy. 

Like most things, that also made Miguel angry. 

You begged him to let you join the Spider Society. You said you had known about it for a while, and you dreamed of being apart of it, of something bigger than yourself. Your words exactly. He was slightly impressed by that, but didn’t show it. In fact, Miguel wanted deeply to say no. But he didn’t, for reasons he’s not quite sure of himself, and that’s how he ended up with a permanent, relentless distraction. He was starting to wish he never brought you back in the first place. 

If you were more like him, he thinks, he probably wouldn’t have this problem. But you’re not. You’re almost the exact opposite. It drives him fucking crazy.

Miguel shook his head, grunting in frustration at his own inability to focus. It seemed even when you weren’t there, he was plagued by the thought of you. 

And think about you he did, for hours on end, sometimes. When he would lie awake in bed, his body aching from the strains of the day. He wouldn’t be able to close his eyes, because the image of you was always waiting for him. Smiling, laughing. Looking up at him with those eyes of yours. He would find himself imagining what it felt like to be close to you. Your skin would be soft, he knew. Your lips would be softer. Your hands, calloused by years of fighting, swinging, winning, losing. How they’d touch him. How they’d hold him. 

How he would touch you. Make you feel good. Make you think about him, just like he thought about you. Make you want him. 

Miguel always lost himself in thoughts like that, and he was usually able to bring himself back to reality. When he got back to his room that night, though, he felt as though he couldn’t push it down. He didn’t let himself have anything nice. And god, did he want something nice. 

The water ran over his taut back, soaking his hair and running down his cheekbones. One hand, splayed against the tile wall, and the other by his side, just inches away from an itch he is fighting not to scratch. His cock is aching. He swears he can see it pulse with every second that passes, every drop of water that lands on his shaft, veins prominent and throbbing. 

Miguel imagines that you’re there with him. That you stand in front of him, and that instead of the wall it’s you he’s touching, your skin slick with water and sweat. That your hands are on his chest, your nails scratching him just the slightest bit, and god, those eyes, staring into his like he’s the only thing that has or ever will matter to you. 

When he finally wraps his hand around his cock, it takes his breath away. 

“Jesus,” he whispers, slowly stroking himself, gripping so tight he’s sure his fingertips are white. It’s not enough. 

Miguel closes his eyes, and immediately he pictures you. He feels almost guilty to think of you this way, on your knees, with your lips wrapped around his dick. But he can’t stop. His breathing grows heavier as he imagines you taking him deep into your throat, gagging on him, your nose brushing against his pelvis. He thinks about what he’d say to you. How he’d tell you how good you were doing, how perfect you were. He grips himself impossibly harder and is unable to stop himself from relentlessly jerking his cock, his hand pushing so hard against the wall he’s afraid it’ll crack. 

“Fuck,” he groans, his voice breathy and deep. More water drips onto his shaft and immediately he thrusts desperately into his own grip, envisioning that it’s you, spitting on him before you take him in your hand, running your tongue over his tip, looking up at him. 

He thinks about what you’d say to him. He knows he would be too big for you. But you’d try to take him all, because that’s what you do. He’s sure your hand wouldn’t even wrap around his entire length. And you would tell him how big he was, how beautiful you thought he was. You’d probably tease him too, about how quickly he’d been reduced to a mess, how eager he was. He’s surprised at how close that thought brings him, and he has to bite his lip to keep from letting out a shameful moan. 

When Miguel comes, he says your name. It’s not loud; it’s more like a plea, a prayer. His body caves in on itself and he shudders with the force of it, his legs trembling ever so slightly as he tries to bring himself back to reality. He stands there for a moment, trying to catch his breath, feeling a little ashamed at how quickly he finished. He hasn’t had the time to do anything like that in so, so long. He hasn’t let himself. 

He washes himself off and gets out of the shower. 

When Miguel lies in bed, he’s haunted by the thought of having to see you tomorrow, knowing what he’s done. And then he grows angry. You did this to him. And you’re not even trying; you’re just there. What a nuisance you are. 

He tries to close his eyes, but he finds himself plagued by you still. 

                                                      𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪

CHAPTER TWO

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