#( it's short but i didn't want to stretch it out anyway )

[genderlessghoul]

Hey so remember when I wrote a small fic about trans Phantom using tape to bind for the first time and it went like shit?

Anyway, I wrote a tape redemption arc and it's under the cut! It's just around 600 words-ish.

“Come in!”

Dew calls out after hearing a shy knock on his door. He doesn't need to look up to know who's on the other side, the faint scent of lavender and woodsmoke betrays Phantom before he even walks through the door. The quintessence ghoul walks in sheepishly and closes the door behind him, something nervous about the way he carries himself that immediately catches Dew's attention.

“What is it?” the fire ghoul asks with a cocked eyebrow as he sets down his book (something about mermaids that Rain suggested to him) and sits up in bed. Phantom holds up a roll of kinesiology tape and a pair of scissors, his tail wrapped around his leg in worried anticipation. He doesn't even need to say a word before Dew's on his feet, taking the roll from him and leading him deeper into the room. It's been months since Phantom's first attempt at binding with tape and it didn't exactly go well. He knows the younger ghoul still has some scars on his back from the experience. Dew leads him near his desk so he can work while standing up. He takes off the other's shirt.

“You took a shower?”

“Yeah.”

“You didn't put on any kind of body butter?”

“No.”

“Good.”

As he starts cutting strips of the tape, Dew notices how the quintessence ghoul opted for black, this time. He can't help but think that, at least, it won't stick out like a sore thumb, this time. Phantom seems to read his mind and lets out a dry chuckle.

“It fits my colour scheme better.”

“It does. You sure you wanna do this? We don't have to.”

“I know… But I figured I'd go back to it sooner or later. And if I don't do this now, I feel like I'm gonna chicken out forever.”

“Fair enough. Just don't go ripping it out raw again, okay?”

Phantom laughs nervously at that.

“Been there, done that. Never again.”

“Good boy.”

The quintessence ghoul melts a little at the praise and Dew gets to work. He instructs the other to lift his arms so he can lay the first pieces of tape.

Phantom keeps his arms up while the fire ghoul works on him. He finds a lot of comfort in his warm fingers and the ease with which Dew applies the strips. He wishes now more than ever that he'd gone to him the first time, instead of experimenting all by himself in his cold bathroom. At least, he'd learned what not to do. His eyes find Dew's mirror and he watches him work, trying to commit the techniques to memory, although he could get used to the pampering.

“How'd you figure out how to do it right?”

“Lotsa practice.”

The fire ghoul finishes his work and pats Phantom's sides a couple times.

“Lots of asking around, too.”

To which the younger ghoul rolls his eyes.

“I get it, I should come to you more…”

“It doesn't have to be me, baby bat, I just don't want you to mess up your body.”

They stay silent for a moment while the quintessence ghoul puts his shirt back on. He stretches his arms out, relishing in how comfortable the tape is this time around. He even finds himself smiling at his own reflection.

“You don't have to take care of me so much… I'm not complaining at all, I appreciate it more than I can tell you, I just… Thank you.”

“Don't mention it, Ant. I um… I remember what it was like to be in your place. And I wish I had someone back then to show me a thing or two, to tell me it was gonna be okay.”

Phantom doesn't quite know how to react to Dew's words. As long as he'd know him, the fire ghoul hasn't talked much about his own experience, only ever spoken with his actions. The moment is short lived, however, when Dew turns back to him and claps his hands together.

“Alright, loser, down for a game of Mario Kart?”

[lovebeatriceplz]

Marcid - (adj): withered, incredibly exhausted

Geto x Gn! Reader. Tw! Intrusive thoughts, mention of taking one's life. Comfort/ angst. A short drabble

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. The ticking of the clock and his heartbeat move in sync. Sleep, it's all he wants at the moment but it doesn't come, he doesn't allow it to. Tick. Tick. His heart slows down when he dozes off, so much so that at times he feels like it may stop, so he stays awake.

The hard marble floor steals his warmth, but he can't bring himself to move. A gentle tap on his shoulder pulls him back "Suguru". He knows it's you but he looks anyway. He's a total mess, but it's not the tied up hair and the dark circles on his face that alarm you. It's the look in his eyes. Dread, anguish and something else, you almost wish that they were empty instead. Wishing that he was numb instead of feeling so deeply.

He quickly averts his gaze before you could analyse him further. "Aren't you going to bed?" You spoke softly, yet the words sounded loud in the otherwise empty room. "Huh- oh, right" he sounds so unsure, you're not convinced that he even heard what you said. Everyone else had headed back to the dorms, even Gojo. You did too, that's what he guesses judging by your sleep attire. That also means that you came back just for him.

"I'll be there...in a minute". Not wanting to leave him alone, you take a seat beside him, shoulders and thighs touching, sharing some of your warmth. It made the throbbing in his bones a little less painful. "It's finally the weekend, we can just sleep all day" you say in a light tone after some beats of silence. The promise of a break is supposed to make him feel better, but it doesn't because it isn't true. They'll spend their weekend exorcising curses. He's so sick of it.

His gaze is fixed on an invisible force in front of him. "If by sleeping you mean battling demons" he mumbles dryly. Demons that didn't even belong to us. You let out an amused huff, stretching your limbs and resting against the wall "well someone's gotta do it no?". Did you even realize what you were saying? That vile, churning feeling starts to bubble up in his stomach again. He glares at you through his peripheral silently. He couldn't even get mad, just look at who he was speaking to. You've made the sacrifices, took punches and lost sleep to do your work, time and time again he's watched you throw so much away. And for what? for the sake of those.... non - sorcerers.

"Those bastards don' t deserve us" it's a quiet, muttered statement, but it slipped out anyways. "Geto!" Of course he wasn't okay you knew that, but it never crossed your mind once that resentment might be what's killing him slowly. "I just- what if we burn out?" he shifts to face you completely, grabbing your arm "hm?".

The words you want to say stick to your throat like bread. "What are you saying? we don't get to burn out-". The physical reaction he has stops you immediately, and he lets go of your arm, not meeting your eyes. "I-" you sigh quietly, the previously comfortable silence became heavy. You place a hand over one of his resting on the ground, running your fingers over his knuckles, his heart lurches. "Is that what's been bothering you, Suguru? is it getting too much?".

He shakes his head. "I don't want this, i can't do it anymore". When he makes eye contact again, he's met with understanding and affection, one that makes him feel safe, like he could tell you anything, he can. Your other hand moves to his face, finger pads running along his jaw. Suddenly everything for Geto is too much, the clock was too loud, the floor too cold, his skin too hot. When your hand shifts and you have your palm against his face instead, his lips press to the delicate skin of your wrist. His hand placed on the ground allows you to thread your fingers together, and that's how it is for a while. If it was up to him, he'd stay like that for the rest of the night.

You suck in a sharp breath "you should get some rest" you whisper. He doesn't reply. He wanted you, so bad that it was awful. These thoughts, they hit him out of nowhere some days. Violent, nefarious thoughts that cause him to lose his dinner. However, they always get quiet when you're around, when you laugh or keep him company. You reduce his monsters to mere pests that he can manage for a while. It almost makes him feel like you can fix him. Almost.

"Come with me?" He murmurs into your skin, eyes still shut. You look up "to your room?" That wasn't a good idea, but the night was freezing, you're tired and his thoughts are deafening. Without giving an indication or reply, Suguru simply rises, hand still hooked unto yours. "just come with me" he murmurs again, heading to his room and taking you with him.

Tangled limbs, and gentle caresses. His shirt is discarded and replaced by your touch, his hands slip under your clothes, but that's as far as it goes. When that dark place starts to claw at his feet once more, he presses kisses all over you. His lips connect with your neck, your nose, the corner of your mouth, focusing on how tender you feel. He only stops when he catches a glimpse of how you're looking at him. "What?" he breathes out, oh how he wanted to kiss the crinkle in between your brow and watch it disappear, he wanted to kiss all your worries away. "I feel like i'm losing you" you say quietly.

His face twists into a grimace, and he rolls off of you, laying on his back and running a hand over his face. He felt like he was losing himself, too, but he couldn't say that. He's so tired, it's kind of tired that sleep won't cure. He has thought about running away, leaving everything behind, leaving you behind. To make the thought even more unlike him, he's accepted the fact that he might have to kill to live the way he wants to, lives would have to be lost, and sometimes he feels like he's willing to make that sacrifice. To make that sacrifice for all of them.

You turn. Getting on top of him this time. Your fingers find and undo the clips keeping his hair together, untangling his unkempt locks. He chases after your touch, wanting to feel more of the things only you could make him feel. His mind wanders once more. There's always the other option, the one he's been trying to avoid. Going to sleep, maybe the next time his heart starts to slow down he'll let it, maybe he'll speed up the process, rip it out of his chest and squeeze it until it stops beating, until he stops living. But then what? He'd get away, and you'd be left here, heartbroken, a part of him hopes. But unhappy, and nothing would change, it had to change, he was going to change it.

The feeling of your fingers against his lips pulls him back, and he looks at you with a half lidded gaze. "Hey, we'll be alright" you say quietly, the words sounding loud in the otherwise empty room. Liar. He doesn't say it. Tears prick at the corners of his eyes. "Oh you're wrong, you're so perfect...but you're so wrong" his tone is breathless, like it's painful to speak. You brush away his tears, and you lean down to capture his lips with yours.

A strangled, choked up sound slips out of his mouth, and he pulls you close, fingers exploring the expanse of your back. The kiss is slow, and the most softness he's allowed himself to indulge in, in a while. You were kissing his worries away, if you tried hard enough you could scrape together his broken pieces, and place them back into the order he's lost.

You can't fix him entirely, though, and he hates himself for it. But for now you can ground him, prevent him from losing his mind and losing even more of himself. That night, the lines between friendship and something more intimate are blurred. And no matter what you call yourselves after this, you have each other.

Habromania - (noun): delusions of happiness

[reticent-fate]

part 11/26ish

anyone remember those scales with the springs in 'em? all i ever see these days are digital scales but those things made the best noises. i think i've seen some kitchen scales that still use spring mechanisms, but it's been a while.

technology is weird.

from the beginning

[lostusagis]

Christmas in Space

 It was a different Christmas from other years, Kagura was traveling with Kamui through space so she’d be spending it with him. Since they mended their sibling relationship, Kamui has taken an active role in spending holidays with her. Although this time, she wanted to just spend it with him. She’s noticed he doesn’t particularly like a lot of the people she’s around on Earth. Gintoki is someone he seems to carry a certain animosity towards, and Kagura didn’t understand why. Maybe she’ll eventually ask him. She was currently stuck taking care of him, since one of his jobs left him really injured. All bandaged up, and Abuto said he was a pain in the ass to take care of given how childish he tends to be. That guy wasn’t kidding. Kagura was seated beside her brother’s bed, glaring at him.

‘’C’mon, just eat it.’’ She was holding a bowl of onigiri she had made herself, although they were just a little burnt.

‘’Those look like crap, no thanks.’’ Kamui turned away while muttering. It led to Kagura punching him in the gut where he was bandaged up and it made him wince and swear under his breath while clutching the area. He eventually took one and begrudgingly started eating it. Kagura was relieved. Older than her, and yet still acted like a child.

Men. They’re insufferable.

‘’Also, it’s kind of depressing how you didn’t decorate your ship at all for the holidays. Is that how you spend Christmas, every year?’’ She couldn’t help asking, having been used to putting Christmas decorations where she lived. As a kid, and while living with Gintoki. When they were kids, Kamui even joined in.

‘’Why the hell would I do that? These people aren’t my family, they’re my men. Who fight, and die for me. I don’t need to celebrate holidays with them.’’ This same line. Kagura refused to believe Kamui didn’t care about anyone here, especially the Abuto guy. She handed him another onigiri with a skeptical look.

‘’Yet, you seem awfully attached to Abuto.’’ It looked sort of similar to the relationship she had with Gintoki, but Kamui refused to admit anything of the sort. She'd eventually get him to admit he saw the guy as family.

‘’He’s just my vice commander, he has no choice but to do what I say.’’

‘’That guy willingly deals with your bullshit on a daily basis, and that’s all you consider him as?’’

The conversation was starting to annoy Kamui, ‘’Kagura, enough already.’’ He snatched the bowl from her, finishing off the rest of the onigiri. ‘’I could care less about any of these guys. They’re all expendable to me. If Abuto died, I wouldn’t really care.’’

Kagura was sick of him lying, he literally hesitated to hurt Abuto when he had lost control. ‘’Is it really that hard to admit you care about people? This ‘tsundere�� thing you have going on isn’t cute. It’s irritating and cringe.’’

Kamui ignored her and continued stuffing his face, making her sigh in frustration. He was eating, so Kagura didn’t have to keep babysitting him. None of his wounds opened up either. She stood up to leave,

‘’Wait.’’ His voice stopped her, looking back at him. Kamui was still looking down into the bowl.. ‘’There’s something under my bed I need you to get for me.’’

She was confused but just got down on the floor and reached under his bed. Kagura ends up finding two gifts covered in rabbit themed wrapping paper. She blinks, seeing they were for her. She felt relieved he hadn’t overdid it like for her birthday. Kagura did keep everything he gave her though. ‘’All that crap saying how you don’t care about anyone… huh.’’

Kamui clicked his tongue, ‘’That didn’t include you. I do think you’re annoying and ugly though.’’

‘’Big bro, remember you’re not fully healed and I can happily re-open your wounds.’’ The threat seemed to shut him up, she smirked smugly then went to the room Kamui had for her on his ship. It wasn’t some extravagant space, the rooms here looked like where members of the military slept. It was so boring. She had to customize it herself since she came along every so often. Various anime pictures and whatnot littered the wall, she changed her bed sheets to have a velvet red theme, and she had a board where she pinned pictures she took with her brother. It looks less boring now. She didn’t have her own room when living with Gintoki so it was a nice change of pace.

 She plops herself on the bed, and was quick to open the gifts Kamui got her. One of the gifts was in a box and had a pink qipao with bunnies all over it. Kagura couldn’t help thinking it was really pretty, he always paid attention when they hung out together. Although, a sigh escapes her lips since she remembered this being a lot of yen. It was made out of silk after all.

‘’He’s so stupid……’’ Kagura mutters under her breath. She also realized he sucks at handling money. Or at least, he thinks nothing of buying expensive things for people he cares about. That vice commander has his hands full for sure. She kind of felt bad, but it’s also Abuto’s own fault for following him. Kamui’s men were all loyal. Although, no sane person would backstab someone that strong. But what makes them follow him without question? Is it his recklessness? The stupidity? She doesn’t get it, despite also being someone who would die without hesitation for him. Given….. all the times he protected her, only to be critically injured afterwards. She really wanted to complain, huffing when picking up the other gift to open. It was a lot smaller, looking like a card. She was right, it had a Christmas tree on the front and everything. She opened it up and it had a recording of his voice.

‘’I know that guy you’re living with is living in poverty, so I decided to be nice and give you this since I felt a little bad. Maybe it’ll help you feel less like crap. Hopefully look less like crap too. Buy less hideous looking outfits, it’s doing very little to distract from your even more hideous looking face. I’m such a nice big brother right? Hahahaha!’’ After it ended, she saw the debit card taped inside. She gently takes it out then angrily rips up the holiday card itself.

‘’Damn asshole! He uses every opportunity to insult how I look!’’ A frustrated sound comes from her, getting up from her bed to leave. Kagura wanted to get back at him, knowing he probably was laughing over this right now. Being injured won’t let him escape from her wrath!

Once outside his door, fuming, she was about to go in then heard him talking to himself. ‘’It doesn’t matter if I have Kagura here, I still hate every holiday passing by since mom isn’t here. Honestly wished I died in the last job….. she could’ve been alive if I wasn’t so worthless.’’

The words made a pain fill her chest, her anger managed to subside. Only to be replaced with sadness. Even if he had been a jerk, he still held that over himself. It seemed like his guilt was suffocating even if nothing was actually his fault. They were children, very young children back then. There was nothing that could have been done…. No matter how many times Kagura tells him that, he still refuses to acknowledge it. She stares down, opening and closing her fists before running off. 

She talks to Abuto, and manages to convince him to stop their ship on Earth for a short period just so she can buy some stuff. Of course, Kagura used the debit card Kamui gave her for everything since she wanted to try cheering him up somehow. She did have a Christmas gift prepared beforehand for him, but had been wondering if he’d even like it. Having gotten into the hobby of arts and crafts, she made a tiny, molded clay sculpture of him. Even painting it too. She managed to avoid breaking it after making it last month. Her brother liked his birthday present, so would he like this too? He didn’t seem to be the type who liked material things….. But the sculpture also looked a bit… wonky. She was new to using clay after all. Kagura could only imagine what he’d say,

‘’Wow, you managed to make someone as good looking as me look hideous.’’ or something to that effect. Just thinking about it made her want to punch him. But she shoved all doubts to the back of her mind, having bought a Christmas tree and decorations. She decorated his ship despite seeming like he didn’t want to do that himself. A lot of his men gave her weird looks. Abuto had originally been against the idea, saying Kamui would end up getting pissed off but she was persistent. She set the tree up in the mess hall, working diligently to put ornaments on the tree. She managed to find some rabbit themed ones. Using a crate to reach up, she’d step on it and attempted to carefully place it on the top but she was struggling, on her tiptoes still.

‘’What the hell are you doing?’’ Kamui’s voice startles her and she misstepped, falling on the tree, making a lot of the ornaments fall off. She makes an annoyed sound.

‘’Damnit…! Now I have to start over.’’ She sits up with a scowl, ‘’Why are you out of bed?!’’ Kamui was standing there, clutching his bandaged abdomen, looking irritated.

‘’I kept overhearing, ‘The commander’s sister is setting up decorations everywhere’. I told you I don’t do stuff like that here and yet you did it anyway. I honestly think I’m not going to take you along with me anymore.’’ His words managed to sting, the genuine hurt was written all over her face. Kagura stands up, dusting herself off and just hangs her head down.

‘’I-I just….’’ The words struggled to get out, chewing on her bottom lip. She really wanted to cheer him up after overhearing what he said in his room. Even if they argue a lot, it was never anything serious. Kagura really enjoyed hanging out with him, and spending her days traveling with him. She usually didn’t let what he said bother her, but it was different this time. Her eyes stung, wondering if he was really upset at her this time around. Although, she heard him hiss in pain and looked up and saw red seeping into the white bandages. Eyes widen, going up to him.

‘’Kamui, you shouldn’t have gotten out of bed! You’re opening up your wounds!’’ She panicked, seeing him grit his teeth and hunch over in pain. She was quick to find someone to fix him up again, and take him back to his room. She didn’t visit him again until later, having brought the gift she made him. She’d see him lying down, hesitating for a few moments before sitting beside the bed like earlier in the day. ‘’....Are you okay…?’’ Kagura spoke with a mumble.

‘’Yeah.’’ It took a few seconds for him to decide to face her. Kagura quietly fiddled with the small Kamui sculpture. Silence persists between them until he spoke up again, ‘’I’m not mad at you, stop looking like that.’’ He immediately noticed the change in her demeanor because of what he said earlier. She swallowed thickly, trying to piece words together to say.

‘’Is that the gift you were going to give me?’’ Kamui asked, making her finally look up at him while frowning. She’d nod quietly before he takes it from her. He looked it over. A chibi version of him, that was badly made. He snorts with amusement, ‘’This sucks to be honest, you need a lot of improvement.’’ 

‘’Give it back then.’’

‘’No. I’m keeping it.’’ Her handmade gifts were something he really liked, reminding him of the ones from when they were kids. Her skill didn’t matter, he just liked the thought and effort put into it. Kagura pouts though, not appreciating his rude criticism. 

‘’Hey…. Did you mean what you said earlier…? About not taking me along with you anymore……’’ She’d tap her two indexes together, looking down. It was rare for her to look that worried about anything between.

‘’I say a lot of things, and you should know by now I don’t mean half of it. You’re really stupid. I was just annoyed.’’ While he talked, he was fidgeting with the sculpture she made him. ‘’I have no idea why you wanted to decorate the ship so badly.’’

‘’Kamui, I don’t want you to die.’’ She was thinking back to what he had said, sniffling. ‘’I’m glad you didn’t die after your last job. I like joining you on your travels, I like arguing with you, I like training with you…..’’ Tears began to slip down her cheeks,

‘’I don’t like when you’re upset, get hurt, and talk about wanting to die.’’ Kagura wipes her eyes, but she just falls into a sobbing fit. ‘’I don’t want you to die…. I don’t… I don’t… I like having you around even if you’re annoying… I wanted to try cheering you up. Everyone kept telling me you’ll get mad, but I still wanted… wanted to try… I’m sorry, I hate how sad you always are, I wish I could help you… I’m sorry.’’ Eventually Kamui sat up and just hugged her, his arms were tightly around his sister wanting to comfort her since he felt at fault for upsetting her so badly. Her face was a mess, and she kept crying as he hugged her. He couldn’t even be upset about the decorations at this point, given her intentions. He just held her until she calmed down.

‘’Are you alright?’’ He’d ask when pulling away, she’d nod wiping her eyes. ‘’I know it’s a bit late into the month to be saying since today’s Christmas, but wait until I feel better and I’ll help you fix up the tree.’’ A defeated sigh was breathed from his lips, knowing that ugly, crying face was something that’ll be hard saying no too. No matter what. She cared about him so much, he didn’t know why. Likely the self loathing talking. She had better family on Earth, yet still wanted him of all people in her life. 

‘’You really mean that?’’ Kagura smiles weakly at him, starting to cheer up compared to before.

‘’Yeah, we can go somewhere fun for New Years too.’’

‘’Oh, can we go ice skating?!’’ She looked at him excitedly, and he gave a really uninterested look. ‘’No ice skating….?’’ Kagura frowns, and he clicks his tongue, turning away.

‘’Fine! We’ll go ice skating.’’ He couldn’t say no after he upset her so badly. Had anyone else seen him like this, he’s liable to get made fun of.

‘’Awesome! Merry Christmas Kamui!’’

‘’Yeah, yeah…. Merry Christmas….’’

[inbabylontheywept]

she was dead silent on the drive home, but that was okay. sometimes, after band practice, she was just out of words. it was a short drive to her house. the only part where it actually felt weird was after i pulled up her parent’s driveway. 

after that, the silence stretched so far it smeared and left a weird residue. she kept looking at the car door like she wanted to leave, so i looked at the door too, then she looked at me, and i looked at her, and my first thought was that she was going to tell me that the door was stuck. i was used to that car always doing some damn thing. it was the car me and all my siblings had learned to drive in, and it was really beat to hell. there were dents all over the body, which we’d unsuccessfully tried fixing up with spackle. it had looked nice for maybe a week, but then the sun wrecked it - the spackle cracked up like the mud on the bottom of a dry riverbed and turned a sort of off yellow-white that made the car looked like it had been molded out of chicken shit. it also had a bullet hole it through the cabin that whistled like a toothless old man whenever the car went above 40, so loud it could drown out the radio, and a cabin that smelled so strongly of bugspray that even the arizona summer we drove everywhere we could with the windows down.

(if you have kids one day, you will maybe, possibly, begin to understand how much i loved that car.)

anyway, i was thinking about what else could possibly be wrong with the chickenshitmobile, and she just kept looking at me, and then i wondered if there was something on my face, and she just kept looking at me, and then the penny dropped and i realized she was trying to work up the nerve to break up with me. 

now, i’d seen her work up the nerve to do things like this before – it could take quite a while. and knowing it was about to happen made the waiting immediately unbearable. 

so i said hey. 

and she looked at me, very startled, and said hey back real small. like she’d been caught. and in a way, i suppose she had. 

and i said it’s okay. you can just say it. i’ll be okay.

i’m always okay. 

and she said: i’m really sorry. 

i loved her, you know? it was highschool, but teenagers are capable of love. the way people love changes over time just as much as the way they stand, or the way they talk, but things don’t stop existing just because they're different. opposite really – a thing only stops changing when it's fully gone.

and i said, nothing to be sorry for, and i meant it. she looked a little relived, and i was happy to give her that peace. then she left. i watched her make it through the front door, because that was just habit at that point, and then i sat there a while afterwards, checking how i felt. and the answer was not good, but good enough to make it home. good enough to limp on. 

so i put my car in reverse, took my last look goodbye, and immediately backed into her neighbor’s car. 

crunch. 

air bags didn't go off, which was good. i left a decent dent in the bumper of the other car. genuinely couldn’t tell if i did anything to my car – anything wrong with it just kind of blended together into the general ecosystem of hand mottled, sun cracked, chickenshit spackle. 

i checked my glove box, and my car insurance info was, of course, out of date. my phone was dead too. as a teenager, my phone was less my lifeline to my friends, and more my tether to my parents, so i wasn’t particularly conscious of keeping it charged. both my fault.

i sat there a few minutes, trying to think of the best way to handle things, and there was only one answer i could think of, and i hated that answer, so i spent a few more minutes trying and failing to think of a better one, and then a few more coming to peace with what had to be done. 

then i went back to knock on my now ex’s front door. 

her dad opened, which i was very relieved over, even if he seemed less than thrilled. he looked me over, and in a firm, but slightly apologetic way said: she does not want to see you right now. 

(i think he assumed i was going to try and talk her out of the break up?)

and i said not here for her. i just backed into your neighbor’s car, and i need to call my dad, but my phone’s dead. could i borrow yours?

and he looked at me, then back at his neighbors car, which sure enough was dented, then he looked at the chickenshitmobile, and if there was something wrong with it, it just kind of blended into the general Wrongness of the car, then back to me, and i could see him imagining the last ten minutes from my pov: getting broken up with, backing into a car, having to walk up to your exes door and borrow a phone, calling my dad to tell him that i just reversed into someone.  

and his expression shifted from stern and apologetic to truly sad, which felt more kind that i deserved. things only got here because i kept fucking up - forgot to look behind me, forgot to replace the insurance forms, forgot to charge my phone. it was my mess, but his sympathy meant the world to me. i probably would’ve cried if he said sorry, or patted me on the back or called me sport, but instead he said

stay out here – i’ll bring you a phone.

and then he left.  

i found a nice spot on the lawn in the shade under a sycamore, then settled into his grass.i was trying not to freak out, and was doing an okay job. he came out a minute or so later, not just with a phone, but a juicebox and a jar of green olives, which really threw a wrench in the whole try not to cry thing. soon as i saw those, a few tears squoze out. i was still hoping i could pass them off as Manly Tears but then he told me that he’d gotten the olives a few weeks before and had been meaning to hand them off to me, and that this was his last chance for that. then i made a sound like a horse drowning in a bog, and he patted my back pretty rough, four solid thumps, like he wasn't sure if i was crying or choking on an olive, and was trying to cover both bases at once.

then he went back inside, and i made a few more bog horse noises while finishing off the rest of the entire jar of green olives, and then i called my dad.

he was about ten minutes away that day, and luckily was home. he drove over, and we went to the neighbor’s house, and from there things actually went quite nice. the neighbor was a retired man who actually said he could fix the dent himself, no need for insurance. he said he appreciated that i didn't just drive off, and i said i was really sorry about his car, and he said he was really sorry about my car, and then he gestured to the chickenshitmobile and i laughed because it really was a disaster on wheels.

then we left.

i thought we were going to head straight home, but instead we went to a gas station, and we both got several slim jims that we folded into thick enough coils that we could put them on a hotdog bun because the growing up mormon equivalent of having a sad brewski with your dad is just choosing to make bad decisions sober. then he took me to the canals and we watched the sun turn all orange and pink, and he looked over at me and said:

brains are good at remembering bad days. so you gotta make sure that a bad day has a good part in in, so you can remember that too. remember that when you have a kid. try to do a good job on days like that - they're going to be a big part of how they remember you.

and then he gave me a big hug and said he was never going to eat another slim jim again.

---

the year after that i went to college, which kicked my butt in new and exciting ways. and on a lot of those bad days, after a test that went sour, or a faux paus that was particularly embarrassing, or some other hardship of my new adult life, i’d stop by the gas station and pick up leathery, half jerkied hotdog before heading to the canals to watch the sun set. i’d take a bite and imagine my dad next to me, grimacing through the slim-jim wad, asking what good thing i was going use that time to remember. 

and in my head, i’d say you, dad. 

i’m going to remember you.

[mochinomnoms]

Please share the lewd interspecies romance.

Okay so mostly I have thoughts over the Octavinelle trio, especially the twins 🫣 but i wrote a lil something for most of them! also this was not meant to be so long idk what happened

[tags] - nsfw, AFAB-implied reader, but written gender-neutral, mentions of ruts/heats, breeding, etc

nsfw under read-more, minors DNI!

If you really compare humans to the nonhuman population of Twisted Wonderland, there's are some small physiological differences between species. Fae, surprisingly, don't differ from humans all too much. Land dwellers in general don't have anything too significant, though all of nonhuman species retain aspects of their animal counterparts.

Most of Savanaclaw goes through some sort of rut/heat during various times in the year, primarily early spring and summer. There's no logical reason for them to retain that aspect of their mating cycle anymore, not for a sentient species that have skills of logic and reasoning. Unfortunately, they didn't get to choose how their evolution worked, and so they have to deal with it in anyway they can.

They get a lot more irritable, they have throbbing headaches, their abdomen hurts, and the scent of their mate is a lot more enticing than normal. Jack probably has it the worst of them, as a wolf beastmen. Not only does he have to deal with a fever-inducing rut that will put him out of commission for a week, afterwards he has to deal with the a/b/o jokes from his classmates too, oh the horror. It is really a horror though when he's able to bend you over his bed, bite marks aligned your neck and back as his dick pounds into you till his knot swells and locks you in for at least an hour. Jack's incredibly embarrassed afterwards, though he manages to be incredibly sweet even after rearranging your guts. Wolf beastmen are one of the most affectionate partners to have with a reputation providing some of the best aftercare for their species. It's most likely to make up for their week-long copulation, stretching and tiring out their sweet little mates. Ooooh, but they'll so very sweet: cleaning up the sticky mess of fluids between your legs with their tongue, careful to not overstimulate you (unless you ask), tending to the mating mark they placed on the back of your neck with soft kisses and licks, and making sure to prop your lower half up to that your chances of taking their seed increases.

Lacking the annual rut/heat that other variants of beastmen have, lion and hyena beastmen are more similar is this regard, as they don't have the same issue of long copulations as wolf beastmen. Neither will initiate sex, rather they'll rely on their mates to do so. Ruggie, in particular, is rather reluctant initiating sex, as male hyenas are typically more submissive, so if you're shy you'll have to get over it. But once you do, Ruggie is ever so happy to service you if you're happy to give him praise. Run your hands through his hair and ears as he eats you out, he'll let out the cutest whimpers and groans as you do. Just, expect to be jellyboned by the time he's done with you, as a hyena he needs to make sure his mate won't snip back at him and you can't exactly do that if your fucked out. While he may not have the same stamina as Jack for week-long fuck session, he has a particularly short refractory period and can have several short sessions in a single night.

Leona also won't typically initiate sex on his own, it happens very sporadically, and he his the image of the lazy lion. While he never wants to do anything particularly extraneous, who is he to deny you needs? You'll have to do some preparing though, as while the barbs on his dick aren't as bad as they are in his animal variant, they will hurt if you're not wet and pliable enough. Be sure to sit on his face, don't worry you won't suffocate him and it's better you cum a few times first before taking him. Unless you want it to hurt? Once you've cum enough times, you can ride him to your heart's content. He only asks that you don't mention how he rubs his head into the crook of your neck, marking you so that if everyone couldn't tell by the sounds coming from his room, they'd know you're his from his scent. Lions are quite protective with their territory and pride after all.

Merfolk have the most extreme physiological differences between them and...any land dweller really. It comes with the territory of being suited for a completely different environment. They also behave a lot more similarly to their animal counterparts, which can be both delicious and exhausting for their humans.

Moray eels don't have a set time of the year they mate, but rather the water must be warm and plenty of food must be ready to provide to their mate. When the spring time weather above the sea starts transitioning from crisp to blazing, don't be too surprised when the twins start handfeeding you meals and snacks throughout the week, they want to make sure you're happy and full for them, getting you in the mood with a sweet, dizzying underwater dance to initiate until they get the okay from you. What's that 'okay' though? You know that yawning I mentioned before? You'll get your answer from them now, as they take your open mouth yawn as an invitation rather than a sign of tiredness. Floyd, in particular, is ready to drag you into the deep part of the pool before remembering that you need to breathe somehow. Not a problem. He'll keep your pretty head above water. You'll still have trouble breathing as his long tapered tongue worms his way in your mouth. No matter, you'll be gasping for breath as he bullies this cock into your hole, large enough that you can physically feel the bump on your stomach. Morays are awfully fond of wrapping themselves around their mates, seeing as Floyd will do his best to tangle his tail around your body and squeezing you as you squeeze down his dick. He loves the physical contact between you two, and is amused how your nails try to dig into his shoulders seeing as the mucus on his skin makes it near impossible to have a steady grasp. You're completely dependent on Floyd as you drool and cry out for relief from the overstimulation, which is oh so ever exciting.

Jade is equally as cruel when it comes to mating. Unlike the others, merfolk tend to mate with the intention to, well, mate. He prefers you to be soft and pliant for him, as well as wholly depending as you two fuck. So, he'll happily brew you a water-breathing potion so he can actually drag you into the deep, where he found a secluded, warm grotto that will allow him to keep you to himself for hours, but close enough to the surface that he can continuously grab you food to eat between sessions. Not that those sessions will be short either. Like his brother, Jade is content to wrap himself around your body as he cooed honeyed words into your ears about how you'll make a wet, warm, soft hole for breeding. It's not like he'll have to do much either, his dick is prehensile and he can wrap himself around you, swiping kisses and nuzzling into the crook of your very sensitive neck while his thick cock continuously pounds into you with a bruising pace. He's so mean!! He likes seeing you cry from overstimulation too, and Jade will continuously scoot down to clean you up with his tongue, only to claim that too much of his seed was gone and he needed to fill you up again for another few hours. He's truly quite incorrigible, especially when he bites into your neck and shoulders to make his claim on you. Don't worry, most morays' bites aren't venomous, and even if they are, you have him to care for you. You're going to be depending on him in the water anyway, so there's no need to worry about it too much.

Something that neither probably won't mention, probably because they won't realize it's something you should know, is that they can change their sex under the right conditions. If you're ever so inclined in the future to test the waters out, the twins might be so generous to let you eat them out instead.

Of the trio, Azul's the only one with an established mating season, two actually: one in the late spring and the other in the early fall. Respectively, one during finals and the other during orientation. He's already so incredibly stressed, and he has the need to breed too? Downright atrocious. It's wonderful that you're so kind that he can take refuge in you and use you like a new octopot, so tell him how pretty he is and how much you love him and only him, so that you have the privilege fucking his merform. The moment you're entering the water, he'll unconsciously display mating signals by flashing soft lilacs and blues, a beautiful display of his need for you. He's rather large, even bigger than the twins, in his merform, so you'll need preparation as well; have no fear, his tentacles are wrapping and kneading the squishiest parts of you. I mentioned before that he can taste the salt on your skin and pulse through your wrist via his suckers. He can taste the slick from your walls, too, without even having to use his mouth as the suckers massage you from the inside. If you'd like, he technically could give you a full flavor profile afterward, though he'll probably be a bit mortified to do so. The biggest difference is his dick, or lack thereof. Instead of a dick, Azul has a hectocotylus, which is a modified, slightly shorter arm of his with a thicker spade-shaped tip that he can practically rearrange your guts with, with little effort on his part really. Most octo-mer variants will keep their mate at a distance, eons of instinct hard to forget. Azul's variant, though, will keep you close, almost dancing with you in a sweet, sensual twirl as he places sweet kissing and bites on your neck, arms, and chest. Octopi are, in fact, venomous, however, so you will be feeling a bit of a lustful high, paralyzed, and a bit helpless to the whims of a needy octopus. He's quite good at aftercare though, making sure you get an antidote and handfeeding you calorie-rich snacks to energize you back up (again, he's aware that you won't eat him, but instinct dictates that he keeps you full with both food and cum to make you a happy mate).

*collapses into heap on floor* thoughts....full.....ahahaha breeding kink go burrrrr. i was not meant to write this much and then it escaped me. also i hate tagging

[rottiens]

contents. satoru gojō x fem reader, alcohol consumption, all the characters are adults, secret relationship au.

"How many shots would you have to take to kiss Gojo?" Nanami asks the group as his eyes are on you, you laugh against the bottle stumbling against your lips. 

The question isn't out of place since you just answered that you would kiss Principal Yaga after taking at least about five shots out of respect and how nervous he makes you feel. However everyone knows what your relationship with Satoru is like, so the question catches you off guard. 

"Zero." Shoko answers for you and Satoru looks at her over the sunglasses, clearly displeased. "There's not enough alcohol in the world to make her kiss him." 

"Oh, no, no, wait... she's really thinking about it!" Haibara points an accusing finger at you and you can't help but laugh again, you feel the skin on your cheeks stretch and burn from the silly grin you can't wipe off. Satoru's stalking gaze feels like a torch on the back of your neck. 

You pretend to think it humming out loud, though the answer is clear to you. "At least about ten," you say, tilting the bottle up to your mouth, getting the group around the campfire to laugh filling the beach with echoes. 

"Heeey." Satoru pinches your forearm which makes you look at him, a tiny pout is later replaced by a couple of wrinkles on his forehead.

"What?" you ask softly and have to force your hands to stay still and not reach out to touch him. 

"Ten shots? That's almost an alcoholic coma."

"There are actually many things that could influence an ethyl coma," Kento clarifies.

"You can't explain much about alcohol to a person who doesn't drink." Your numb brain is sure that was Hibara, too lazy to check since your eyes were still on Satoru who was still indignantly staring at you. 

"What?" you repeat almost in a whisper. 

"Nothing." His attention returns to the campfire, the heat from the fire burns his pink cheeks and the bright flame dances on his face making his eyes look much lighter mimicking the shade of the sea at midday. 

Satoru pushes his glasses up on top of the bridge of his nose, hiding his eyes completely. 

"I'm going to get more beer," you say looking at the group, then tug on Satoru's arm to help him up, who does so reluctantly. "Can you help me with the box?" 

He walks beside you without adding anything else, shaking the sand out of his red shorts and pushing his hair out of his face. 

"Are you really upset?" The answer was obvious but you had to make sure, Satoru walks silently, sinking his feet aggressively into the sand until you reach the parking lot where your toes have never felt more grateful to touch solid ground. "Hey?" you tug on his hand and stop your steps, standing still in front of him. 

"Hhm?"

"Are you really upset?" 

"No," Satoru assures, avoiding your eyes.  

"Satoru, did you really want me to tell them that I would kiss you sober? Without a drop of alcohol?" 

You see him licking his lips battling with himself on whether to stay annoyed with you or understand your point. 

"I know."  

"I thought we were going to go slow..." 

"I know!" His hands cradle your cheeks tenderly, bringing his face up to meet yours to leave a kiss on your lips. "I was dying to touch you." 

"You know we didn't go public for you." You remind him, letting him rest his forehead on top of yours. The artificial taste of the strawberry beer he drank earlier sneaks into your mouth in little gasps. 

"Let's do it when we get back to the city," Satoru murmurs, brushing his lips over yours. "I think they know anyway." Oh, you're sure they know. You're both too obvious but you didn't want to push your boyfriend when he told you he wasn't ready to admit in front of everyone to officially having a partner. "But I don't like having to hold your hand on the sly or sneak out of meetings so I can kiss you and God, I'm just addicted to that watermelon gloss you use."

You laugh giving him fleeting little kisses, taking advantage of the position to wrap your arms around his neck and pull him closer to you. 

"Just admit you're addicted to me, Satoru." 

"Maybe I am..." He says in that tone that indicates danger. That voice that tells you you're not going back to the group you had run away from. 

Satoru squeezes your waist possessively, his fingers trace on your sun-toasted skin and you moan between his half-opened lips the moment he asks for your tongue silently, his nose stumbling against yours. 

"We should get back..." you say in a whisper, remembering this fact more to yourself than to him.  

"We can disappear for ten minutes..." Pause. His lips move to your collarbone and his warm breath tickles you. "Fifteen minutes..." Pause. Small bites along your jaw take him to your neck. "Twenty..." His tongue dances over your salty skin, gently licking what he can reach and has to physically force himself not to suck. 

"It's never ten minutes..." you say between a choked moan, tugging at his strands sweetly until he's looking at you again. Dark sunglasses hide his eyes from you but his mouth is at your disposal, half open, red and appetizing and the tiny freckles that bathe his nose make your stomach knot. 

He grunts, as if battling with himself to understand that you are right. Satoru brings his face to the line of your neck and sighs heavily, leaving one last kiss to pull away from you against his will. 

"Let's go back then," he says resignedly. And he had never wanted the weekend to pass as quickly as he wanted it to now, being the impatient person he is, he didn't want to wait to have your hand entwined with his and fill his chest with raw pride where he could finally admit in front of everyone that you were his.

[oddwalkerduckarts]

Sylus: Desert Flight

A short and sweet drabble that I wrote as a treat for myself during a flare up.

Summary: You and Sylus take your daughter to test out her new wings in the desert near the oasis

AO3 if you prefer

Contains: maximum levels of fluff, no editing thanks to flare up, reader is referred to as mom.

Notes: i didn't give the daughter a name or age here, feel free to imagine as you like.

The stars are just beginning to peek through the haze of sunset in the oasis, twinkling in the deep navy expanse above as the last bit of light leaches away from the sky. You've never seen the stars this clearly; the light pollution in Linkon barely allows you to see all but the brightest of stars, and the deepspace tunnel occupies a large portion of the sky anyway. But here, you can easily imagine space stretching into worlds far beyond your own.

“Mom!” A small, excited voice drags your attention back down from the heavens, “Come on! You’re taking for-ev-ver!”

You assure your daughter, who is practically vibrating with excitement, that you are coming. She's been waiting (impatiently) to try this for weeks now. Sylus had promised her that, once her little wings were strong enough, he would take her to practice real flying. However, doing so in the neon-bright nights of Linkon would be begging for a troublesome amount of attention. And despite the vast improvements of the state of affairs in the N109 zone, it still wasn't safe enough to let a child test out her brand new wings.

So, the three of you had taken a family trip to the oasis. It's relatively easy to monitor her safety here; most people you have met seem to buy the explanation that your daughter has a gene-modifying evol, so she has been able to keep her wings out. In Linkon and the N109, you are always on alert for any remaining presence of EVER, and you’re careful not to allow her wings out too frequently. With your memories now intact, you know what they did to you as a child, as well as Luke and Kieran, and you will be damned if any remaining shreds of EVER try to lay a finger on your child. Sylus, with memories of his previous life also intact, is just as cautious. Now and again, when he holds your daughter, you will see him stroking the tender, delicate membranes of her wing with an inscrutable face.

But tonight is not the night for old wounds and memories. Something new and wonderful is happening under these stars.

As it stands, the desert is peaceful. You watch as Sylus walks through the dunes ahead of you, your daughter clinging to his back, little wings fluttering instinctively as the cool night breeze fills them. She's so similar in her look to Sylus, both of their heads gleaming silver in the rising moonlight, both sets of sanguine eyes scanning the surroundings (one set with alertness, the other with boundless curiosity). He would claim, though, that your daughter is all you in spirit; courageous and determined to a fault, always wanting to help even a complete stranger on the street.

Sylus turns slightly to make sure you're still following, eyes sparking with a kind of excitement and unadulterated pride you’ve only rarely seen in him before, and always related to his little princess. It appeared first on the day she was born, and had shown up now and again afterwards, when she took her first steps, when she first said ‘dada’, and when she first dug a fang into Kieran’s hand.

“Getting distracted, sweetie?” he calls.

"The stars are gorgeous here, it's hard to not get distracted!”

“Mm,” his low, amused hum glides to you on the breeze, “and here I thought you were distracted by the handsome view in front of you.”

“Da-ad, ew.” Your daughter groans. Both of you laugh, the sound joyously loud in the quiet landscape.

Eventually the three of you come to a stop at the crest of a dune.

"The sand is soft here,” Sylus explains, as he gently returns your daughter to earth, “go ahead and try, the drop will give you some time to glide.”

Your daughter's feet shuffle restlessly in the sand, “You aren't going to show me how?”

Sylus gives her a slight smile, “My wings would cause a sandstorm here, princess. If that happened, you wouldn't be able to fly tonight.”

She gives a serious nod, the stories you've told her at bedtime of her father (though they are taken from another life) ring true to her.

“No monsters here, right, mom?” She looks to you for assurance.

You check your hunter's watch, as you always have done when she asks this. Though your daughter is unafraid of the dark and many other things children are usually terrified of, she's not immune to all fears. Wanderers, especially, seem to take the place of more traditional monsters in her mind. However, when she was three, you comforted her with your tales of being a hunter, and having a watch that could detect when they are near.

“All normal,” you report, giving her a thumbs-up, “perimeter secure.”

She gives you a bright smile. Soon, she will be too old for these sorts of platitudes to work. But for now, they give her comfort as she faces a new challenge.

“Okay,” she mutters to herself, wings stretching in preparation, sinewy young muscles testing their own strength

Sylus gives her some reminders as he crouches next to her on one knee; let the drop fill your wings first, then flap to catch some air, angle them up as you come to land. She listens attentively, wings mimicking the movements to help her remember.

“What if I fall?”

“You probably will,” Sylus says somberly, and you can see the confidence in your daughter waver slightly, “are you going to let that stop you?”

You know he would accept it if she does want to stop. Sylus always gives her a choice when she faces something that intimidates her, or tests her limits. He never pushes, trusting your daughter to know herself. It’s one of the myriad things you admire about your husband.

Your daughter thinks hard for a moment, eyes narrowing, “No. I want to fly. Even if I fall a little.”

“That's my princess,” Sylus grins at her, eyes shining with pride once more as he stands.

You move to his side as your daughter stands at the crest, wings stretching once more. You take his arm as she backs up slowly, face set with determination, and then sprints to the edge. Your fingertips dig into Sylus's arm as you hold your breath, watching this insane, wonderful child you both created fling herself into the air.

She waits a moment too long to open her wings fully, and nearly crashes to the ground. But in the end, she does manage to catch a little air, and glides to a tumbling landing at the base of the dune.

Before you quite know what you are doing, you're hurtling down the slope too, losing victorious shouts as you slide down to your daughter. You help her up from the little pile she's landed in, showering her with praise for her glide.

She giggles, still young enough to be deeply pleased rather than embarrassed by all of your fussing (not that it will make you stop, regardless).

“Did you see, dad?” She calls to the top of the dune.

“Of course, Princess.” He calls back, and you feel the delighted flutters of your daughter's wings against your arms.

"I want to go again!” She exclaims, pushing against you, so that she can run back.

You set her down, “I bet I'll beat you to the top!” she crows, and immediately begins running.

She’s every inch as competitive as you are, sprinting and pumping her little legs for everything she's worth. Even her wings beat against the air as she goes, granting a little lift to her steps. Most of the time, you let your daughter win these little races. Every once in a while, though, a prize catches your eye, and you simply have to win. This is one of those times. So the two of you race across the cooling sand, little puffs of it flying up in your wake under the newly-darkened sky. You round the corner of the dune where Sylus is still standing, racing up the incline, hunter-trained muscles giving you the lead over your daughter. You make it to the crest, but do not slow; instead you push yourself just a little harder in the final stretch. You can't see your husband's face well in the dark, but you can imagine it well enough. You have seen his look of affectionate amusement so often by now that it may as well be the back of your own hand. You collide with his chest in a rush, flinging the pair of you over the edge of the dune. Sylus, though, is just as familiar with you as you are with him. As your bodies meet, the misty tendrils of his evol are already wrapping around the pair of you, slowing the fall into a weightless sensation that may as well be flight.

You feel his arms wrap around you, strong and warm, and his deep chuckle rumbles through his chest to your ear.

“I didn't know you were trying to fly today, sweetie. You could have just asked.”

“What's the fun in that?”

He chuckles again as the pair of you land in the soft sand, giving you a dazzling view of the universe in the clear sky above. Though it becomes difficult to appreciate, as most of Sylus's weight settles on top of your body.

“Sy,” you grunt, wriggling to give yourself more room to breathe, “off, please!”

“I thought you liked me on top of you, kitten.”

“Sylus! She's-”

“At the top of the dune. She can't hear me.”

He presses a quick kiss to the shell of your ear, a promise of what will come after your daughter is deep asleep in her own room, before relenting and beginning to move off of you.

A large shadow blots out the sky above, and for a heart-stopping moment, your mind screams at you to prepare for a wanderer. However, when the shadow lands (heavily) on the pair of you with a squeals and a giggle, your fears quickly subside.

“Got you!” She yells triumphantly, and you can't help but laugh.

“Well done, princess,” Sylus says, tucking back the hair that's fallen out of your daughter's braid, “You saw your opportunity and seized it.”

Your daughter beams, again delighted at the praise.

The three of you remain for a time, until the chill in the air turns to a cold bite. You carry your exhausted daughter alongside Sylus as you walk back to the oasis town, your free hand entwined in his, under the watch of the stars.

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC the Dog and the Death Wish

Written for: Flufftober, prompt 1. Lost Pet Meet Cute

"Cujo!"

Both Tim and the dog turn their heads in the direction of the voice at the same time. There's not a lot of people in the Robinson Park at five in the morning - that's why Tim is here, actually, because he wanted a walk but did not want to deal with people - so the dog’s owner is easily recognizable.

A boy with a disheveled mop of black hair, sixteen, maybe seventeen years old, in old jeans and an unzipped hoodie. He has a leash in one hand and a look of worry on his face as he approaches, not quite walking but not yet running towards them.

The dog gives him an excited bark and, finally, leaves Tim alone, darting back to the boy. Tim breathes out a sigh of relief. Not that he is afraid of dogs, but this one was big and loud, with no leash and very interested in his cup of coffee for some reason.

The boy catches his pet by its collar and turns to Tim, an apologetic smile on his face. In the foggy park, where the only sources of light are street lamps and the faint brink of dawn over the skyline, he looks a little otherworldly. But then, everything looks otherworldly at five in the morning.

"I'm so sorry," the boy starts, strapping the leash to the dog's collar, "He doesn't usually run off like that, I thought I'd be okay to let him play around for some time-"

"It's alright," Tim interrupts his ramble and smiles back. If it's a bit forced, then no one would notice in the dim lighting. Only the boy somehow does, tilting his head in a concerned manner.

"You sure?"

"Yeah, it's fine," Tim rushes to assure, hiding his free hand in his pocket and awkwardly moving his coffee cup in the air, "I guess humans are not the only ones who crave coffee in this hour."

The boy blinks, clearly taken aback. Then, his eyes shift to Tim's cup, and then he snaps his head to the dog, who is wagging its tail with an innocent look. Somehow, it looks much smaller now - Tim swears the dog was the size of a mastiff the first time he's seen it, but now it's barely bigger than a hound. Is this his sleep-deprived hallucinations kicking in?

"Cujo!" This time, the boy's voice sounds accusatory, "We talked about this! What did I tell you about stealing drinks that are not mine?"

The dog barks. Tim blinks. He is fairly sure dogs shouldn't be having coffee at all, but the boy seems entirely unconcerned on that matter.

"I can buy you a new coffee?" The boy offers, and Tim shakes his head, coming back from his thoughts.

"Um, no, thanks," he smiles again, and huffs a short laugh, "He didn't get to it, and, besides, it's a special order, they won't brew it for anyone who's not me."

The boy suddenly freezes, staring at Tim. And then, his lips slowly stretch in a grin.

He points to Tim's cup, "Is that Death Wish?"

Now, it's Tim's turn to freeze and stare.

"How'd you-" and a moment later, it hits him, and he points a finger to the boy, "You! The only other guy who orders it!"

The dog barks again, looking between them and happily nudging it's owner in the hip with its nose. The boy laughs softly and pats it on the head.

"Guilty as charged," he admits with a smirk and nods to the dog, "At least it makes sense why Cujo chose you out of all the people in the park."

"And not because I'm literally the only other person here," Tim rolls his eyes, even though he feels himself smiling as well.

"Oh, you're not," the boy waves him off, "The park is never empty, well, not for us," he adds a bit cryptically, and then gestures to the gates down the path without skipping a beat. "Anyway, I was planning on getting a coffee after the walk, but do you wanna go and give baristas a heart attack by coming in together?"

That's... not very nice. Tim thinks about it for a moment. Then, he shrugs and smiles.

"Sure," he takes a sip of his coffee, "I'm Tim, by the way."

"Danny," the boy introduces himself and nods to the dog, "And the mediocre boy is Cujo."

"Mediocre?"

"He's not a 'good boy' for running off, but he's not a 'bad boy' either, since he got me a Death Wish buddy. Hence, mediocre boy."

Tim hides a laugh as all three of them head to the gates, absently noticing how the first rays of the dawn are coloring the treetops in gold.

"Makes sense."

[norikuna]

HOLY GROUND — geto suguru

prologue. → suguru geto is effortlessly stylish, and impossibly charming, and it's no wonder that everyone loves him. and you're absolutely crushing on him. and without fail, he takes you out each afternoon, after school, to a sweet cheesecake shop, saying that it'll be nice to grab a quick treat. but as a friend...right?

pairing. geto suguru x reader

warnings+. nothing, just sugary sweet fluff! reader has some self doubt and is a bit nervous, has a bit of a crush on ol' geto.

word count. 3.03k! song inspiration. holy ground — taylor swift

a/n. this post by @shokosmokes got me thinkin...mind u i love a good angst story but its nice to just have something sweet. like cheesecake 🍰 anyway this is short but i had fun writing this short lil piece <3 lmao this is the first time i think i've written a story without someone dying or losing a limb. not beta read, we die like warriors.

mp3. tonight i'm gonna dance, for all that we've been through. but i don't wanna dance, if i'm not dancing with you.

you sat across from geto at a small table by the window, marvelling at how the warm sunlight spilled in and caught the edges of his profile, lighting his features up with the last rays of summer's sweetness. you can hear the usual bustle of life on the streets of tokyo, with cars roaring down narrow streets and voices floating on the air. but here, it's just you and him.

there's a single strand of his hair that's perpetually falling out of his knot, falling against his face in a way that makes your chest tighten. the light has caught the feathery edges of his raven hair, turning the black into deep shades of brown and caramel that you want to capture within your fingers.

"you're quiet today," geto says, and he's leaning back in his chair, legs stretched wide beneath the table as he always tends to do.

you're glad you both took the time to change out of your uniform, at the dorms. the loose charcoal top drapes well against his lean, sculpted frame. his faded black jeans and scuffed docs complete the look, as though he stepped out of a glossy streetwear magazine and into your hands. there's two silver bracelets stacked on his wrists, gleaming faintly and you watch as the faint dusting of dark hair on his arms look translucent in the afternoon light.

great, you've been staring. again. heat rushes to your face, and you quickly look down at the cracked screen of your phone, hoping he didn't notice how you were practically unthreading each stitch that held him together.

"just tired," you say. though the truth has nothing to do with exhaustion, and everything to do with him.

geto tilts his head, watching you, "long day?"

you trace your finger along that shattered screen as you flip your phone open, "something like that. you know how they train us at the end of the day."

his eyes narrow for a split second, like he's the one solving a puzzle right now, but he shakes his head, "let's just go and order now. 'm starving."

this bakery is known for its whimsical creations, and you stare at the menu above the counter, wondering how many crumpled bills you can scrounge up for this outing. geto's leaning against the glass case, shoving his hands in wide pockets as his bracelets clink softly at the movement.

his eyes skim over the vibrant slices of cheesecake on display, but you know he's not really looking at the desserts. he's just giving you time.

"what do you think?"

"i don’t know," you say, dragging out the words as you squint at the labels. "how am i supposed to pick between strawberry matcha swirl and honey lavender? they all sound so - " you pause, schooling your face as the woman behind the till gives you a side-eye, "complicated."

geto chuckles, a low, warm sound that feels like sunlight breaking through clouds. "why don’t you go for something fun? you always play it safe."

his words make you pause. maybe he’s right. maybe you do tend to pick the familiar, the predictable. but not today. today, you want something different — something bold. you glance at the menu again, and your eyes land on a slice that looks like a kaleidoscope of colour: tropical mango-passionfruit cheesecake with swirls of raspberry and a delicate coconut crust. it’s so bright and summery, it feels almost impossible not to smile just imagining yourself biting into it.

"that one," you say, pointing to it.

geto raises an eyebrow but doesn’t comment, his lips curving into a faint smile. "and for me…" he looks over the options for barely a second before he says, "just plain vanilla."

"tch! vanilla?" you repeat "you’re so boring."

"hey, it's a classic."

you roll your eyes, but you are so endlessly fond of him that you're smiling.

a few moments later, you’re back at your table with your slices, and the tropical cheesecake looks as perfect as it did in the case. the vibrant layers of mango, passionfruit, and raspberry practically glow in the sunlight streaming through the window.

ignoring geto's snarky comment to breathe first before inhaling it, you take your first bite, the fork sinking into the creamy texture, and for a moment, you’re hopeful.

but then...ugh. the sweetness hits you all at once, overwhelming your senses. it’s not bad, but it’s...too much. too bright. too cloying. you hesitate, unsure how to admit the mistake of your overzealous choice.

geto notices immediately, because of course he does. he leans forward, resting his arms on the table, his bracelets catching the light again, "what's wrong?"

"nothing," you say quickly, but your face must give you away because he narrows his pretty eyes in suspicion.

"you don’t like it." it's not a question, he’s grinning now.

"it’s fine," you insist, though your tone lacks conviction, and you shovel another wide piece into your mouth.

geto doesn’t say anything. instead, he picks up his fork and, before you can protest, scoops a bite from your slice. you watch as his pink lips part, and he tastes it before pulling a face, "that's sweet enough to even knock out satoru."

"hey!" you protest, though you can’t help but laugh along with him, thinking of your white-haired friend bouncing off the walls. "it’s not that bad."

"you don’t have to eat it," geto says, sliding his plate toward you and nudging your slice away. "here. take mine."

"but you don’t even like sweet things."

geto shrugs, picking up your plate and taking another bite of your overly sweet cheesecake like it’s nothing, and you watch as a mild spasm twitches across his features, "it’s fine. it's no good if you sit here and suffer through something you don't like."

you try to pretend like your chest doesn't tighten at the gesture. he doesn’t even look at you when he says it, focusing instead on his plate.

you take a bite of his vanilla cheesecake, and it’s perfect — not too sweet, just creamy and subtle enough to make you sigh in relief, "where would i be without you?" you hope that the teasing in your voice is enough to smooth over the cracks in your beating heart.

geto glances up at you then, his violet eyes meeting yours, and there’s something unguarded in his expression, something raw and warm and so achingly tender it makes your pulse skip, "i could say the same for you," he says quietly, almost as if the words weren’t meant to be heard, and far too quietly for something as trivial as an afternoon date in a café.

there's a warmth pooling in your cheeks, making your face hurt. and your thoughts loop back to the same quiet ache that you've carried for a few months now, like a sealed and perfumed love letter carried in your pocket.

every time he takes you out after class, you tell yourself, this is it. this is when i'll say it. haven't you rehearsed the words in your head, simple and clear each time?

i like you. i actually really like you a lot, suguru geto.

and every time, like clockwork, the words dissolve on your tongue, swallowed by the noise of your own uncertainty. it is hardly the case that geto isn't kind nor attentive. it's not that he's distant or cold, entirely the opposite.

if anything, he always seems...present.

but then you think about how he walks through the school hallways with that same quiet storm of charisma and charm, how his laughter draws people to him like moths to a flame, boys and girls alike.

in contrast, gojo satoru is far too much for many. there are many who choose to take a step back from him, away from the whirlwind and electrifying storm that is the six-eyes user.

but everyone wants a piece of geto's world, to be his friend or a confident, or something.

and you, what are you? just another friend he takes out after school? someone he doesn't mind spending time with when the day winds down?

your heart is once again acquainted with a knot of longing and fear that’s become far too familiar. geto doesn’t look like someone who would hesitate. he looks like someone who would know exactly what to say, exactly what to do, without second-guessing himself.

and yet, every time you’re with him, you catch these small moments of quiet — when his gaze lingers just a fraction too long, or when he says your name like it’s heavier than it should be. those moments make you wonder. what if…?

and as if he's reading your thoughts, geto shifts forward slightly, his elbows resting on the table now, and that single loose strand of hair moves with him, falling further into his face.

"something’s on your mind," he says, his pretty eyes searching yours. there’s a teasing edge to his tone, but it’s tempered with genuine curiosity, "you can tell me, you know."

you can’t help but wonder — how are you supposed to tell him that he’s the one taking up all the space in your mind? that his voice is the soundtrack to your thoughts, his smile the thing you find yourself chasing in every quiet moment?

instead, you give a small shrug, "maybe i’m just distracted."

"by what?" he presses, leaning just slightly closer, the teasing note in his voice softening into something warmer, a sincere question.

you hesitate, and you want to tell him the truth, but it feels too big, too fragile to let out into the open and so you blunder around, "maybe it’s the cheesecake," you say instead, your voice light, though the thrum of your pulse is anything but, "vanilla really is a classic."

smooth. utahime is going to be so disappointed in you. you know that she's tired of hearing about your crush by now, twirling the ribbon in her hair as she groans each time you tell her that you think you're going to pack your bags and move countries away from geto.

but now geto laughs softly, and the sound wraps around you like warmth, like home, "guess i picked the right place, then."

"you always do." your fingers brush against the cool porcelain of your plate, though you barely notice. your heart is often a traitor to your rational peace of mind, and your attention is all on him, on the way his smile lingers, softer now, the edges of his usually confident expression unraveling into something more tentative.

for a moment, geto's quiet, his gaze falling to his hands. his fingers toy with one of the silver rings on his right hand, twisting it in slow circles. It’s a small, nervous gesture, and it catches you off guard — suguru geto is never nervous.

the silence stretches in the late afternoon light, but then geto shifts in his seat, leaning forward slightly, his hands fiddling with the silver rings stacked on his fingers. the movement catches your attention, and when you glance up, you notice something different about him. the easy confidence that seems to follow him like a second shadow is nowhere to be seen. instead, his jaw is tight, his shoulders tense, and there’s a flicker of something nervous in the way his fingers twist the largest ring around and around.

he's looking at you, meeting your gaze, and you’re startled by the uncharacteristic seriousness in his eyes.

"hey," he says, his voice quieter than usual, a touch rough around the edges.

"yeah?"

geto exhales slowly, his lips pressing into a line before he speaks again.

"okay, look. i -” he pauses, running a hand through his hair, dislodging the tie holding his hair together, so choppy, dark locks fall around his shoulders. you school your face well enough so you don't look like you've been punched in the gut by cupid.

"i like you," he says finally, his words tumbling out in a rush, like they’ve been bottled up for too long, "i’ve liked you for a while now. and - and i’ve been trying to figure out how to tell you without, like… messing everything up."

your breath catches, the words landing like a firework in the quiet space between you. geto likes you? he likes you?

geto keeps going, as if he’s afraid to lose his nerve.

"i asked gojo for advice — stupid, i know, don't make that face — and he told me to just… keep taking you out and hope you’d get the hint. said that you'd realise eventually," and one of the strongest jujutsu sorcerers you know groans, covering his face briefly with one hand, as if he's embarrassed.

"which was a terrible plan because i'm awful at hints, and apparently, so is he, considering he’s never had a girlfriend in his life."

you blink, the shock giving way to a surprised laugh, the sound spilling out before you can stop it.

"wait — gojo? he's the one who gave you advice? he doesn’t even know the first thing about relationships! do you remember the time that he went on one date, and got dumped the next day for trying to buy dinner out of the vending machine."

"i know!" geto says, dragging a hand down his face in exasperation, but there’s a small, embarrassed smile tugging at his lips now, "i know it was a bad idea. i just wanted to tell you, straight up. but I didn’t know what else to do, okay? i didn’t want to screw this up."

you fall silent at that, your laughter fading as the weight of his words sinks in. he's looking at you now, his expression open and raw in a way that makes your chest ache.

"i just — i want to do this right," he says softly, his voice steady but tinged with vulnerability. "i want to be your boyfriend. properly. i want to take you out, and to be able to call you mine, and — i don’t know — do all the cheesy stuff couples do."

his hand brushes the back of his neck, his eyes dropping to the table for a moment before flicking back to yours, "but if that’s weird, or if you don’t feel the same, it’s okay. you don’t have to say yes. promise i won't cry in front of you."

Your heart is pounding so loudly you’re sure he can hear it, a wild, dizzying rhythm that drowns out everything else. You stare at him, your mind struggling to catch up with what he’s just said, with the fact that he likes you. geto—cool, effortlessly charming geto—wants to be your boyfriend.

"wait," you manage finally, your voice shaky with disbelief. "you… like me? like, you really like me?"

geto laughs softly, though there’s still a nervous edge to it. "yeah, i really do. it's probably stupidly obvious by now, isn’t it? i mean, everyone said it was so obvious, and shoko said you already knew."

you shake your head, bewildered. "no! i mean, yes — but no! i just thought you only saw me as a friend. i never thought — "

you stop yourself, realising you’re rambling, and take a deep breath. then, before you can overthink it or possibly faint, you say, "yes."

geto's thin brows furrow slightly. "yes?"

"yeah," you repeat, a smile breaking across your face. "i'd really like that. i do want to go out with you, suguru."

relief washes over his features, followed by a grin so genuine and bright it leaves you breathless. for a moment, he just stares at you, his eyes warm and full of something you can’t quite name, something that makes you feel like the centre of the universe.

"oh my god, thank god, you don't even know, i was actually going to have a heart attack..." he mutters, almost to himself, before he blinks, like he's forgetting something. then, with an almost comical jolt of realisation, he clears his throat.

"right," he says, the word drawn out, as if he’s trying to ground himself. "i need to pay for the tab."

you laugh nervously, still reeling from everything that’s just happened, and shake your head quickly, thinking back to the meagre bills in your pocket. "oh, it’s okay! i can pay for my own -"

but geto's head snaps up at that, and he fixes you with a look so incredulous, so utterly affronted, that it startles you into silence.

"no way," he says, his voice firm but laced with humour and he leans forward slightly, his eyes meeting yours with a glimmer of warmth that sends your heart racing all over again, "i’m your boyfriend now. you really think I’m going to let you pay?"

it's unfamiliar and thrilling all at once. your cheeks burn, and you can’t stop the laugh that escapes you, a mix of delight and disbelief.

"unbelievable," you say, shaking your head, but there’s no real protest in your voice.

geto grins, the expression crooked and self-assured in a way that’s so unmistakably him, and it takes your breath away. then, without breaking eye contact, he reaches across the table, his hand brushing against yours before his fingers gently curl around them.

it's such a simple gesture, but it feels monumental, like the air around you shifts in response. his hand is warm, slightly calloused at the fingertips, and the way his thumb grazes over your knuckles sends a quiet thrill through you.

you glance down at your joined hands, unable to stop the soft, surprised smile that spreads across your face. when you look back up, geto is watching you, his expression open and unguarded, as if he’s memorising every detail of this moment.

"so," he says quietly, his voice softer now, "is this the part where you say you’re going to let me spoil you a little?"

you laugh again, your thumb brushing over the back of his hand in return. "i guess i don’t really have a choice now, do i?"

his smile widens, and there’s a faint pink tint to his cheeks that makes your heart ache with how much you like him.

"nope," he says, his tone teasing but earnest. "you really don’t."

and as you sit there, your hand in geto's, surrounded by the golden light and the lingering sweetness of cheesecake, you think that maybe — just maybe — this is what happiness feels like.

[moonstruckme]

i know you have the reader saying “i love you” first to poly!m, but would you be open to doing one with just sirius? And doesn’t have to be reader saying it first, could be either, but just the first “i love you” with siri?

Thank you for requesting <33

Sirius Black x fem!reader ♡ 2.2k words

Sirius has been meaning to tell you, he really has. It’s only that feelings weren’t something encouraged in the house where he grew up, and he’s still not very good at them even now that he has the words, and though he’d called James a prat when he said Sirius was bad at vulnerability James is usually right about those things. Every time Sirius tries to say it, the words stick back in his molars like caramel. He wants the moment to be right, but not so heavy with gravitas that he can't play it off as casual if he needs to. Also, he thinks that if you don’t say it back he’ll probably have to move countries and change identities. Still. You deserve to know. 

Sirius decides all this whilst watching you sleep on a Sunday morning. Time moves like sap as you wake up, slow and sweet. First your face turning to the side, cheek pressed into the pillow. Then your body follows, and you’re laying on your stomach, one leg hiking up so your calf brushes Sirius’ thigh. Your eyes crack into the sunlight, then shut again. Sirius thinks about tracing every slope and curve of your face, starting with your nose and working his way outward. You mumble something, half in a dream. Eventually, you catch him looking, and your eyes flutter open, smile stretching lazily across your cheeks. 

The sun rises in Sirius’ chest.  

“Hi,” you murmur. 

He gives in to one touch, drawing a line from your temple down to your chin. “Hi,” he says back. 

He thinks that he has to tell you now. He’s known for weeks already, and when’s better than when he feels it so strongly and has just resolved to have you hear it? 

He traces the same path back up your face, letting the words take form on his tongue. Your eyes flare before he opens his mouth. 

For a moment, Sirius wonders if you’ve read his mind. But then you gasp out, “What time is it?” 

He tells you, and you vault out of bed, suddenly wide awake. 

“Oh my god,” you laugh, passing an anxious hand through your hair as you hurry towards the bathroom. “I was supposed to meet Mary for coffee at nine! I can’t believe I forgot to set an alarm.” 

Sirius sits up. “She won’t hold it against you. Everyone sleeps in on Sundays, whose idea was it to meet before noon anyway?” 

“Hers.” Your voice sounds garbled, and he guesses by the sound of it that you’re brushing your teeth. The sink turns on. “I just hate the idea that she’s been waiting on me all this time.” 

He pummels his feelings back into submission, getting out of bed. “I’m sure she hasn’t.” He pads into the bathroom, hugging you from behind whilst you speed-run your skincare routine. “James said he was out with her and Lily last night. She probably didn't remember to set her alarm either.” 

“Really?” You sound hopeful. “I don’t want her to think I ditched her.” 

Sirius presses a placating kiss to your shoulder. “I bet she's just waking up herself. Want me to give her a ring?” 

“Would you?” 

“Sure.” 

“Thank you.” You turn around, kissing him properly. Sirius’ lips buzz with the things he can’t say. “You’re the best.” 

Well, at least he can be that for you. 

~~~

The second time Sirius tries to confess, it’s just as impulsive. What can he say—planning was always more James’ thing, Sirius never had an affinity for it. He does his best thinking on his feet. 

You’re in a pub, your friends and drinks abandoned at a table in the corner. It’s loud and crowded, one of those electric Friday nights. And this pub, in what Sirius chooses to believe is a happy turn of fate, has a hallway. It’s short and sparsely lit, leading only to an employee bathroom. Through rose-tinted glasses and possibly also beer goggles, it looks to both of you like an opportunity too good to pass up. 

Sirius has you pressed between stacks of chairs, your laughter fizzing on his tongue. You taste like cider and the sticky toffee pudding you’d ordered on a whim to split with James, and one of your fingers is hooked through Sirius’ belt loop as if to keep him tethered to you. As if you need to do anything at all to be sure of that. 

He pushes his knee between your thighs, and your lips curve against his. 

“Cruel,” you say. “You can’t do things like that in public.” 

Sirius plays dumb. “Things like what, lovely girl?”

“Tease me.” 

“Oh?” He peeks at you through his lashes, and you’re looking at him, too, eyes glittery. “And what is it that you think you’re doing?” 

“Kissing.” 

“Right. Is that all?” 

He can practically feel the giggle bubbling in your throat. “What else?” 

“No, nothing. Nothing at all.” 

You press your lips to his, and Sirius thinks it, crystal clear. An obvious truth. He thinks that it might be fun to tell you this way, to let you feel how his lips form the words against your own. Maybe you can roll them around in your mouth and give them a taste. 

“I—”

“Oh, I’m so sorry.” 

You’re looking behind him, expression turned to shy contrition. You’re smiling just a tiny bit, eager to be laughed off and forgiven, but the pub manager Sirius finds when he turns around appears only weary. 

“Just go,” he says. 

You don’t need to be told twice, urging Sirius out of your little alcove and pulling him by the hand back towards your table to relay the story embarrassedly to your friends. The moment passes. 

~~~

The third time, Sirius actually does plan, but you don’t show up. He considers this a probable sign that he should never plan anything ever again. 

If he’s being honest with himself, he’s pretty put out. James got all this stuff into his head about romance and home cooked meals and even though Sirius doesn’t consider himself good at either of those things, he did try. He made the simplest thing he could find that you might like, cleaned off the kitchen table for the first time in forever, lit candles and then blew them out because that felt like too much. Lit them again, because who was he kidding. 

It was supposed to be a surprise when you came home from work, only now it’s an hour past when Sirius had been expecting you and you’re not home. Not your fault, obviously. He hadn’t hinted you were doing anything special, and you’re not obligated to keep him abreast of your comings and goings no matter how much Sirius wishes you would right this moment. He’d caved and called your work a few minutes ago, worried about you, but there’d been no answer. Your office is closed for the day. 

He nearly jumps out of his chair when you come in, a cold wind coming with you before you shut the door on it. 

“Fuck.” You give a shiver, setting two drink containers down on the counter before starting to pull off your coat. Your hair is wind-whipped and your lips look chapped. Sirius has a suspicion that if he pinched the tip of your nose it’d be frozen solid. “It is gusty out there.” 

“What happened to you?” Despite his best intentions, there’s a bit of accusation in Sirius’ tone. “Did you go somewhere after work?” 

“It’s so—” You laugh, taking off your shoes. “It’s so stupid, honestly. But in my defense, I had no idea how long it would take.” 

“How long what would take?” 

“Okay, you know how—wait.” You look around, noting the candles and the set table. “Did we have plans?” 

Sirius winces. “No. We didn’t. This was…impromptu. It was going to be a surprise.” 

“Did you make dinner?” 

“Well, it’s cold now.” 

Your lips part, crestfallen. “Oh. Sirius, baby,” you breathe, moving towards him, “I’m sorry. I’d have come straight home if I’d known.” 

“I know,” he says, fighting his own umbrage at the humiliating blunder. “I didn’t tell you. It’s fine.” 

“But you made—” 

“Would you just—really, it’s okay.” Sirius uses your hands to pull you down into the chair next to him. “Just tell me what happened.” 

You still look miserable—really not what Sirius had hoped for tonight—but you start to explain again. “You know how you were obsessed with those salted caramel hot cocoas that one coffee shop had?” 

Sirius feels his eyebrow lift. This feels like an odd place to start. “Yeah. The one that they sold out of after two weeks?” 

“Right,” you say weakly. “They said it was because they had troubles with the vendor and ran out of the syrup.” 

“Yeah…” 

“Well, it turns out there’s more than one of that particular coffee shop. This girl at my work was talking about this salted caramel hot cocoa she’d tried, and she said she got it at another location of the same place. They’re, like, a local chain or something.” 

You’re still looking guiltily at the cold plate of food beside you, but you’re picking up steam now, talking more animatedly and fishing a tube of lip balm out of your pocket as you tell the story. 

“So, I looked it up and it turned out there was one right close to my work. I figured that had to be the place she got it, so I went down there to snag one after I got off.” You smear lip balm on while you speak, Sirius’ attention captivated by the movement. “I waited in this whole long line, and when I got up there the guy said the same thing they told you at the other place. They hadn’t had it for months. 

So I called my friend from work, and apparently there are actually three locations and she’d gotten it from the one near her flat. And her flat was totally across town, but I figured I’d already waited in line, why not just commit? So I took the bus down there and…” 

You stand, going to the counter to retrieve the drink containers you’d come in with. Sirius had forgotten about them. 

“...got us these.” You pass one to him. “The guy said hardly anyone ever orders them there, for some reason. I got him to sell me a thing of the syrup, too.” You point with your chin to the counter. “It’s in my bag. I thought we could try to make our own, even if they’re not quite as good.” 

Sirius is appalled. “You spent over an hour after work running across town��to get me a hot cocoa?” 

You smile sheepishly. “I told you it was stupid.” 

“Are you kidding me?” He sets his hot cocoa down on the table, taking your face between his hands and kissing you ardently. “I love you.” 

He knows your eyes are open without having to open his. When he does, pulling away from you gently, your lips stay parted. 

“Sirius,” you say slowly, the way you might talk to a wild animal, “it’s only cocoa.” 

He grins, a nervous tic. “I realize that makes the whole sentiment sound rather conditional, but it’s not really.” 

“Do you really mean it?” you almost whisper. 

Sirius swallows. In his head, blurting it out involved much less explaining. This seems like that vulnerability thing James warned him about. 

“Yes,” he says. Forces himself to do it without fanfare. “Of course I meant it. Why wouldn’t I mean it?” 

“It just seems like the sort of thing you might say on a whim,” you admit. Later, Sirius thinks, you might laugh about how close to the truth you really were. You look bashful now, shrinking in on yourself and lip dimpling like you’re biting down on a smile. He chooses to interpret this as a good sign. 

“It’s not a whim,” he reassures you. “It’s…I’ve been meaning to tell you.” He cracks a smile, grateful when you let yours loose too. “Felt like you ought to know.” 

You give a little laugh. “Is that why you made dinner?” 

“Not my best plan. We can blame James.” 

“James knew?” 

“Well, I—” Truthfully, there’s not much that goes through Sirius’ head that James doesn’t hear about. Usually immediately. “He’s got some more practice with this stuff than I do. You know, considering he’s been professing his love to Evans since he was about eleven years old.” 

You’re still smiling. A private, amused sort of smile. “So you consulted with him.” 

Fuck. Now Sirius feels about eleven years old. “Humiliating, isn’t it?” 

“No.” You wrap your fingers in the collar of his shirt, pulling him closer. “Sweet.” 

You kiss him much more nicely than he had you, soft, gentle presses of your freshly moisturized lips. Your hand moves to cup his face. 

“Oh,” you mumble. “I love you, too, by the way.” 

Sirius lets out a relieved bark of laughter, too loud and too sharp. “Good to know,” he says. “Thanks.” 

You laugh, too. “Sorry I forgot to say it. Fuck, I really ruined your confession every way imaginable, didn’t I?” 

“That’s okay.” Sirius leans back in. “I ruined it first.” 

[covetyou]

sweet as cherry wine

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pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader rating: Explicit (18+ only!) warnings: dub-con (power imbalance, reader was paying a debt), unprotected PIV, period sex, the joys of menstruation, fingering, derogatory names (slut), mentions of malnutrition/lack of food, positive weight gain, ghost of anal sex past and future, drug reference, asshole Joel, no use of y/n word count: 5.1k summary: a different kind of rude awakenin' than you were promised ruins your Sunday plans but, of course, you find yourself at the mercy of Joel Miller anyway.

A/N: she's here! another mini-kinktober SWAT series of oneshots for you to enjoy and for me to be horny about in theory, stressed about in practice. if you want spoilers, check out the SWAT masterlist for what's to come.

once again, please ignore the total and utter bastardisation and improper use of hozier lyrics. this one is particularly heinous but out of context I couldn't resist.

title from cherry wine by hozier

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You felt more alive these days. Whether it was the bright, cool days, the extra food you could suddenly afford to eat, or the regular fucking you got from Joel, you couldn't tell, but the world felt lighter and, at the very least, your father's bad days didn't feel so difficult to manage.

It was easy to forget that these things couldn't last - the cloud was incoming whether you liked it or not, and whether it was a short shower or a downpour, you were going to get wet.

It was a fact that became painfully apparent the very morning you had an appointment with Joel.

It wasn't a strict appointment, more an offhand comment that you planned on cashing in on. When a man like Joel fucks you from behind and taunts you with threats of fucking your ass again and you think fuck yes so hard the words spew out of your mouth as you babble into the sheets, what else is a girl to do. And when he makes doubly sure you heard him by kneading your ass as you ready yourself to leave and whispers in your ear the filthy things he wants to do to you, and if you want them to happen you should come over Sunday afternoon, it's basically a done deal.

"If you thought that was an ass fuckin' before," he had said, "You're in for a rude fuckin' awakenin', sweetheart."

By god did you want that rude awakening.

But, staring into your underwear that Sunday morning, the distantly familiar gnawing ache in your abdomen suddenly had a name, and there your plans went, flushed down the drain right alongside the first signs you'd seen of your fucking period in years.

You remembered the pain, but it'd been long enough that you'd forgotten about the other discomforts periods could bring. The hunger, the aches, the tender nipples and the throb in your head. Not to mention, the last thing you wanted was Joel anywhere near any of your holes, asshole definitely included.

With your plans ruined and an ache that was rapidly spreading to your back, you didn't bother leaving the house that day, or sending word to Joel that you wouldn't be coming. Your rude awakenin' would have to wait, and your dad would have to stretch his pills for a few more days.

Three days in, you can't wait any longer. Or rather, your dad can't. You still feel rotten, and though the pain and bleeding have eased off a little, you just want the sit in your apartment and eat - the very luxury that got you in this mess in the first place.

But, you're here instead. In front of Joel's door, hands clasped at your sides, berating yourself - and your father - for even needing to be here, when Joel pulls open the door with a scowl.

"This look like Sunday to you?" he grouches, the furrow between his brows deepening as he looks you up and down.

You try to ignore it. Just like you've tried to ignore the gnawing ache in your belly all week. But, despite yourself, you can't speak, can't bring mention to Sunday and your own disappointment, and instead reach a hand deep into your jacket pocket and pull out the small number of cards you'd agreed would cover your dad's meds.

"Just here for a refill."

Joel rolls his eyes, and when he pushes away from the door frame, he beckons you inside, pushing the door shut behind you the second you scurry through after him.

"The fuck is wrong with you," he says, slamming an old worn container onto the table a second later. "And don't say nothin', I can tell you ain't right. Seen dead bodies with more life in 'em."

It hadn't occurred to you that he'd know. That he'd see right through you and know that you'd spent the days since Sunday feeling shitty as you curled into yourself. It hadn't occured to you for a second that you might look different - probably just as shit as you felt - and that Joel, a man who never seemed to be put off by anything, might be put off by this. By you.

"You sick?"

You hadn't even noticed he'd stopped rummaging, hands now on his hips as he stares at you with what you could almost mistake for concern. It pulls at you, somewhere deep inside, and you find a need to scramble for the words to reassure him, to tell him you'd be okay in the vaguest terms, that you'd be back to normal next week, if he still wants to go ahead with Sunday, because by fuck do you want to.

But instead, just one word comes out of your mouth in a sudden burst much louder than you intended.

"Period."

Joel blinks. Once. Then twice. As if trying to work something out, or maybe he's disgusted that you bleed, or maybe he's relieved you aren't pregnant at all and the little procedure to keep his swimmers at bay was still effective.

"Y'ain't had one o' them before," he starts. "I mean, since..."

You want to tell him that maybe you have. Maybe you hid it - didn't want him to know - but you both know you're a shit liar.

"Guess eating works wonders," you joke instead, not missing the frown that tugs his brows down, or the way his eyes scan back over your body to settle on the jacket that fits more snug than it ever has, or the thighs that now fill out your jeans.

The entire time, he doesn't make a single move to grab your father's pills. You want to scream at him to hurry up and give them to you - the longer you're standing here, the longer your cunt has to throb and clench at the mere thought of him. For the first time all week, you're not sure the wet feeling between your legs is blood.

"Got everything's you need?" he asks, his eyes briefly flicking down to your belly then back up.

You do. You tell him as much, now keenly aware of the feeling of the cup sat securely inside you as he stares holes through your head, searching for the lie, before giving up and shrugging when he doesn't find one.

He starts rummaging in the small container again, pulling out a half used packet and gesturing to you with it. "You hurtin'?"

You shake your head, turning down his offer of free prescription meds to ease your aches and pains. "Not so much any more."

Joel slowly takes a step towards you, and your pussy pulses again, gripping the cup lodged inside you and making you wish it was something else entirely.

"Still up for fuckin' if you are."

Nothing can keep the scoff of disbelief from bubbling out of your chest. Not two seconds ago you thought that maybe he'd be put off by you, if not by how you looked, then by the mess between your legs.

"No way are you fucking my ass, Joel," you say through a laugh.

He shrugs, before moving closer and pulling open your jacket. "Never said that. A fuckin' is a fuckin', don't matter which hole. Could have you comin' on this cock and leavin' feelin' better than you have in days, if you want it."

"You got a magic dick or something?" You laugh again, though smaller this time as Joel stares down at you through dark lashes.

"Think you know the answer to that better than I do," Joel says, running his tongue along his teeth. "Doubt you been rubbin' that pretty thing between your legs too much these last few days, huh?"

He's not wrong - making yourself come has been the last thing in your mind lately. You spent most of your time Sunday scrambling to find your menstrual cup and learning how to use it all over again so you weren't free bleeding all over the place. Since then your days had been filled with torturously slow work days and hiding away in your room with a pillow cluched firmly to your stomach.

"Didn't think so."

In a blink, he's gone, moving away from you so quickly your head spins. He's pressing the lid firmly back onto the container, the loud clicking echoing around his apartment as he readies it to be stashed away. You look away as he turns from you - not wanting to see if it's hidden in the usual drawer or elsewhere in his home - and turn just in time for a threadbare towel to be thrown your way. It's worn, and stained, but soft and clean in your hands.

"Go get yourself cleaned up."

You gape at him. Mostly in disbelief that he would want to touch you at all right now, but a small part of you stares at his form - broad and strong - wanting desperately to leap on him right here with no mind paid to the thing currently lodged in your cunt, feral with the knowledge that he actually wants you.

"But what about the mess," you say feebly instead, grinding your knuckles into that soft part just below the pooch of your belly as a sudden ache - no doubt brought on by the fluttering in your cunt - takes hold of your womb.

He laughs then, low and throaty, before making his way back to you and gripping your chin between thumb and forefinger.

"Good job I like it when you're a mess for me, sweetheart."

You're gone in a flash - his deep chuckle the only thing you hear as you rush to the bathroom and close the door, stripping down as quickly as you can before hopping into his shower. The water is deliciously warm as it pelts your skin, a forgotten luxury that you wish you'd had two days ago at the worst of your aches. Still, you relish in it, and find yourself tentatively stepping out of the steamy room with the tattered towel wrapped around you and your cup cleaned and discarded on his bathroom sink far sooner than you'd like.

There's a soft yellow light beckoning you into Joel's bedroom as you pad your way across his floor. He's there, just beyond the doorway, laying another towel across faded sheets. His jeans are off and his sweater discarded, his bare, muscular legs flexing with each movement in the golden light as he puts together the space you're about to fall apart in.

"You gonna keep starin'," he says with a final flourish of the towel before giving it a gentle pat with his hand. "Or you gonna sit your ass down before you drip on my floor."

Rolling your eyes, you walk to the bed, Joel barely giving you space to maneouver by him, before doing as your told and sitting your ass down. There's already a soft lump forming in the front of his boxers when you cast your eyes up to him.

"Show me," he says, dragging a finger across your hand where you grip the towel to yourself, and in an instant it drops away from your body, falling into your lap and exposing your chest to him.

"Y'know, I thought they'd got bigger," he says, letting his finger trace from your hand to your palm and down to the soft swelling of your chest. "Bouncin' in my fuckin' face more than usual lately."

His broad hand encases your breast, gently holding but not squeezing as his fingertips caress your soft flesh. His thumb drags gently across your nipple, the sensitive bud of it tightening and sending a zing straight down through to your core. It should hardly come as a surprise to you - the soft fabric of your own t-shirts had been borderline painful in the days leading up to your unpleasant surprise. Still, it makes you gasp, a thing that Joel notices with a cocked eyebrow.

"Ass too," he continues, hands stroking softly at your tender nipple before crouching before you on creaking knees. "I'd fuck it any chance I'd get, but somethin' about it lately..."

Resting back on your palms, you look down at him beyond the swell of your breasts. He's gazing at them, watching as they heave with each breath you take. For good measure, you take in a deep sigh just to watch his eyes darken as they rise and fall right in front of his face.

"Show me," he says again, with a nod and, while his eyes never leave your tits as they sway in front of him, you know what he really means.

Part of you wants to clamp your legs together and hide from him. You want to ask him why - why ever, but mostly why now, when you're like this. But you don't.

Instead, you pull the towel away and let it fall from your thighs. For a second, you wonder if Joel has even noticed. He still seems entranced by the way your tits move. That, or he's somehow being polite - a weird thing to even consider given how very naked and very close to him you are right now.

Then, he flicks his eyes between your legs for a fraction of a second, before standing and pulling his shirt over his head in one smooth movement. The tent in his boxers is even more pronounced now, the trail of hair that slips beneath the waistband drawing your eye easily to the swelling bulge hidden beyond the fabric.

"Eyes up here, sweetheart," Joel says. "Think you can take it?"

He's stroking himself over the fabric now, you can see it in your periphery. His broad hand gently squeezing and rubbing the very thing you wish was in you.

Words lost, you nod. Then, his knee descends to one side of you, calloused hands pushing at your shoulders, and you're falling softly backward until you collide with the mattress, and the worn towel covering it.

The mattress gives way to your weight, dipping softly where you lay. Joel's over you, his massive frame cast in golden light from the lamp as he touches you more gently than you think he ever has. Your nipples pucker, his hands not even close to them as you arch into the touch of his rough palm across your side, your belly, your hip.

And then, he's dipping his fingers between your legs, not caring of the mess that might be there, and drags slick fingers through your folds until you're panting and writhing underneath him, legs spreading and hips rocking your pussy into his hand with each swipe of his wet fingers over your clit. You didn't notice how sensitive you were. The last few days you'd tried your hardest to ignore any sensation coming from your cunt that wasn't an alarming feeling of warm and wet. Now, while you were definitely warm and wet, you were practically electrified too, blood humming with need as Joel gently stroked at your pussy until you were begging him to make you come.

"I'm gonna, sweetheart," he growls. "Gonna make this needy pussy come all over my cock. Make a mess o' me."

You feel yourself flutter as his finger pushes lightly into your waiting hole. You're dripping, no telling really with what at this point, but you don't have it in you to care. He can have the mess he so desperately wants, as long as he makes you come and leaves you panting and bone tired right here on the mattress.

His face burrows into your neck, shrouding you in him while he sucks kisses down and onto your shoulder.

"Joel..." you moan, arching into him again when his finger plunges deep, gently curling forward while his palm grinds against your clit. You could make yourself come on him if he just kept like this. Except, you don't want to. You don't want to do the work. You want to lie here and take it, have him split you open on his cock and work you apart until you crumble underneath him.

He works another into you, shallow thrusts of the digits working you up and sliding easily through you. His thumb finds your clit, swiping messily over it until you twitch and grip his arm, forcing his palm flat against you so you can grind and grind against him. But he stills - the soft kisses he was peppering with you having reached the jiggle of your tits - and looks aup at you with a quirk to his brow.

"Beg me for it," he whispers, pulling his sopping fingers out of you and wiping them on the towel between your legs. "Not gonna fuck you until you do."

Your desperation cuts through the anger that flares in your belly. You were close when he pulled away, his hand now simply teasing the sensitive skin of your thigh. You were so close your cunt was throbbing, sending small aches up through you. Whether they were from him, and the relief he so quickly took from you, or the making of your own body, you couldn't even tell, but you had a sneaking suspicion they were working together to fuck you over. They always did.

"Fuck me, Joel. Please."

Joel is already settling between your thighs, boxers yanked down his legs and cock springing free, by the time you even finish asking. He presses forward, letting his cock slip against you as his mouth hungrily finds your nipple, sucking and making you gasp. A sudden sob wrestles its way out of your chest while he grinds against you, your clit twitching against the slip and slide of his length, your hands finding his arms to steady you. He's solid, and steady above you, while you quake and writhe beneath him - always the picture of fucking composure, even with his cock heavy and dripping between your legs.

He rears back then, completely naked before you, the shadow between his legs ignored as you make a point to stare up at him, his own eyes favoring the mess between your legs rather than your face. His fingers find your thighs again, spreading them, holding them, before lining himself up with your entrance.

As he presses his tip into you, there's something glaringly obvious, and different, that you notice.

He's being gentle with you. Sort of.

And you're not entirely sure you like it. A very big part of you wants him to say fuck it and pound into you, fucking the pain out of your mind to leave you moaning and boneless and far too messy to comprehend. Unfortunately, you're definitely sure that'd hurt much more than it'd actually be enjoyable, and you hate that Joel and his animal brain have understood that before you and yours.

He catches your frown before you do, and rolls his eyes at you with a gentle squeeze to your thighs. His cock is still slipping gently in and out of you, just pushing in past the head, careful not to go too deep too quickly as he spreads you apart to take him.

"I ain't a fuckin' animal. I know when a pussy's gotta be treated sweet and nice and when it needs to be fucked hard."

You really do try not to pout, but the slow drag of him suddenly doesn't feel like enough and it's all you can do not to cross your arms and glare at him. "What if I don't want sweet and nice?"

"Yeah, you do," he whispers, so sure of himself you want to fucking slap him. If his hands weren't so distracting as they slide up and down your thighs, gently massaging away any ache in tandem with his cock in your cunt, you probably would reach up and give a smack to that beautiful fucking face of his. "And even if you think you don't, she does, and, unlucky for you, I ain't listenin' to you right now."

The moment he starts talking about your cunt, his brings his thumb down to gently tease along your lips where he splits you open, drawing a slick combination of your own blood and arousal up to your clit where he swirls it around.

And, traitorous bitch that she is, your pussy throbs in approval, as if to say yes, yes we want sweet and nice, and you know you've lost the battle. Where Joel was concerned, you were a slave to your pussy - it wasn't even a point worth contending at this point, and you're not sure you ever would've fought to hard against it anyway.

So, you nod, slipping your eyes closed as he fucks himself deeper and deeper into you. In an odd way it does feel like a massage - the stiff length of him pushing in past the tense grip of your cunt until you're putty right there on the bed, a leaking, dripping, groaning mess, all of Joel Miller's making. He never bottoms out. Never once hammers home. Never once takes your soft pleas and moans as direction to go faster, harder, even though part of you still wants him to.

You just lie there, soft and pliant against the sheets, taking the steady slip of him in your needy hole until your brain turns to soup in your head.

"Kiss me," you mumble through another moan when his hands drag up your body to swip rough fingers over your nipples again. "Joel, kiss me."

Your legs push back as he falls forward, the sudden movement pushing him deeper and making you gasp. He stops for a moment, searching your eyes as they fly open, pupils blown in the lowlight of his bedroom. He rocks tentatively, at first, before beginning the slow slide in and out of you all over again, until your head thuds back against the mattress.

You'd thought he'd undone you before. Right in this room. You'd thought his fist in you had ruined you, his cock in your ass, his hand in your hair. So many things before now should have torn you apart, but none of that had prepared you for this. The soft, sweet, dirty way Joel Miller fucked all the aches and pains out of you right on his tired mattress.

Through it all, you almost forget you'd asked him to kiss you until his mouth finds yours, and you excitedly accept the pressure of his lips. You'd be embarrassed by it, and by the giddiness in your head as he nips and sucks at your mouth, if you hadn't long lost that feeling around him.

"Forget how much of a slut for kisses you are," he mumbles when he pulls away. "Slut for everythin'."

A weak protest forms in your throat, but his hips jerk forward and silence you with a moan instead.

"No denyin' it. Ain't met many who wanna be split open on this dick when they're on the rag," he's grinning into your shoulder as he taunts you, biting and sucking soft bruises you'll worry about later you as he grinds deeper in you now. "Startin' to think you're some kind of masochist."

You can feel his smile against your skin - a sign he already knows by now that that's more than true. Even so, like most things with Joel, this wasn't something you'd even considered before, let alone considered you might enjoy, until he did it. There's an ache as he stretches you, sure. And an ache in your belly too. And, somehow, one is soothing the other, the grip you have around his cock distracting you from any other feeling in your body as he slides through the mess between the two of you, bringing you close to a euphoria that feels deeper in your belly than it ever has.

He notices the change before you do. Your soft, contented moans turn into deep yearning cries as he grinds his cock deep, heavy balls sitting wetly against your ass as your slicked up hole seems to draw him in further and further. His fingers push between you, the slip of sweat, and blood, and your own slick easing his digits between your bodies until he finds your clit again.

With a soft movement, he jerks it between two fingers, watching and listening as you whine pathetically, eyes pressed so tight you see stars. A quick slip lower, feeling the sticky slip of you around his cock that has the telltale feel of your arousal and not blood, he moves back up and begins swiping his finger over your swollen clit in earnest.

Your clit twitches and pulses beneath his finger, your cunt fluttering around his solid length as it slowly presses into you, barely moving, just watching as you become exactly the kind of mess you feel.

It aches, and it hurts, and it feels so fucking good that you sob out a cry, a moan, a garbled plea, all at once as you come, shaking into the deep arch of your back as he fucks slowly and slowly and slowly, his fingers sliping endlessly against your clit, jerking the nub until you can do nothing but let out a deep, breathy, scream.

"That's it," he groans, his own cock throbbing in you as you pulsate around him. "Messy fuckin' girl. Come on it. Come all over it."

"Please," you gasp stupidly, not knowing what you're begging for, the height of your orgasm coming crashing down as it suddenly all feels too much. "Please."

While you don't know what you're begging for, it seems like Joel does. One moment his hand is between you, and the next it's rubbing against the towel before gripping gently at your shoulder, holding you steadily underneath him as you shudder and gasp.

And then, like reading your deepest wishes straight from your mind, he starts rocking in shallow thrusts - unsatisfying on their own, but paired with the filth from his mouth, it sends you close to the edge all over again.

"There we go," he moans in your ear, breathy and desperate as you. "S'all you needed."

You're starting to think Joel Miller's cock maybe is all you need - for some people it's love, or riches, but for you, at least in this moment, the heavy length impaling you and curing all your ailments is all you need. For now, at least.

He's wrecking himself with it all too, you notice. The way the pressure of his hands on your body increases and releases over and over as he fights with himself to be gentle as he fucks you to his own release isn't helped by the way his mind is racing, his mouth barely keeping up with whatever filth is rattling around in his mind.

"Gonna take it. Gonna dump my load right in this messy fuckin' hole. Y'gonna be fillin' up that fuckin' cup with my cum after this. Gonna be spillin' outta you. Needy - fuckin' - slut."

"Yes. Yes, yes, yes," you babble, holding onto his arms through his gentle thrusts, your cunt threatening an orgasm even as a new ache settles back into your core.

"Like bein' a slut for me?" he gasps. "Like bein' mine?"

"Yeah. Yours. Please, Joel. Fuck."

"Tell me. Tell me s'mine."

"It's yours. Your hole. I'm your needy - fuck - hole!"

"Damn fuckin' right you're my needy fuck hole. Fuck. Shit. You want this?"

And god you do. You want more besides, but right now you'll take it, on the brink of coming as the rough thatch of hair at the base of his cock grinds relentlessly into your clit.

"Said, do you want this."

His shallow thrusts speed up, and you just about have time to gasp out a yes before you're twitching and coming hard around his cock again. He follows soon behind, gasped curses bitten into your shoulder as your hands slip against his sweat soaked sides, filling your cunt with thick ropes of cum, thanking him in mindless chants as you feel each pulse of his cock fill you more and more.

You're limp and just about as lifeless as he said you looked when he first opened the door. You don't care. You feel more relaxed than you have all week, the pain completely gone as a warm floaty feeling courses through your veins.

Joel pulls out, asking if you're all good and accepting the wobble of your head as a yes, before wiping his cock with the towel and using it to gently wipe at your thighs.

There's not as much mess as you expected, as you look down. You expected carnage - a bloodbath - but there's nothing more than a soft streak of red on the towel when he pulls it away and tosses it into the corner.

He flops heavily next to you, pulling part of the towel you're laying on over your body in a vague attempt to keep you warm as you both come down. The chill in the room had been kept at bay until now, mostly thanks to Joel's body heating yours from the inside out. Now, sweat dries on both of your bodies, and you find yourself shifting closer to his warmth to stave off the cold.

"Y'think these gonna be a regular thing now?" he asks as he tugs part of his bedsheet over himself.

You shrug, offering up your uncertainty. It had been years since your last - your fathers declining health and your subsequent lack of good meals had seen to that. There was no telling if there'd be any regularity to them and, if you were being honest, you didn't want to see one again for a very long time.

He's silent for a second, thoughtful features pinching in the warm light of his bedroom before he speaks again.

"Alright. How 'bout I give you that ass fuckin' in a couple weeks, then?"

It's not exactly what you expected. You'd almost forgotten about it yourself. But, now, as he pins a new date for your promised rude awakenin' you find yourself ready to pout again, this time at the idea of having to wait two more weeks.

"Two weeks? I'll probably be finished with this by the end of the week. I can come over Sunday, or in the week or -"

"I know," he says simply. "Like the idea of you bein' like a bitch in heat and me fuckin' a load into your ass when your cunt is so desperate for it, though."

Anything you were going to say is totally lost in an instant, your jaw flapping on its hinges as you try and fail to find the words that were just on the tip of your tongue. Any protest, question, or suggestion, is gone and, you realize, replaced with one thing, and one thing only.

"Yeah. Yeah, okay."

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[tbaluver]

HIIII ,can I request headcanons when the reader likes to play video games and sometimes spend too much time on them ,and how will LaDs boys react , or will they play with her ?

Take your time!

Have a nice day/ night σ(≧ε≦σ)

When You're A Gamer- The Love And DeepSpace Men

parings in order: Xavier x Reader, Zayne x Reader, Rafayel x Reader, Sylus x Reader genre: fluff fluff and silly a/n: HIII anonnie !! ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡ i hope this was okay i added a couple more like if you were a gamer and also i didn't know how to title this which is why it takes me so long to post (╥﹏╥) anyways i hope you enjoy reading and i hope you have a nice day/ night angel ! (˘ ³˘)♥ any likes and reblogs are always appreciated! enjoy!

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Xavier:

He watches you play and sometimes joins whenever he can whether it’s multiplayer or you let him try it out. He'll bring snacks and water and offers to feed you while you play.

Your cheerleader from the sidelines. Whenever you get stressed on a certain level or puzzle or anything competitive, he'll always cheer you on and tell you that you're doing so well. When you do win or complete something, he'd be so proud of you! He'll have a soft smile, peppering multiple sweet kisses on your face.

Tries to help you as much as he can with anything puzzle or choice-story based games. But when you both give up, he'll end up looking it up for the both of you.

Whenever the game gets too challenging, he'll offer some gentle massages or that you should rest your eyes, leaving both of you to cuddle and unwind together, easing away the stress.

When you play video games on the living room TV, he would position himself between your thighs, watching your gameplay. It wouldn’t take him long to drift off to sleep with his head resting comfortably against your tummy.

Zayne:

He doesn’t mind it but he will remind you often to make sure to stretch when you play for too long and that you eat and drink plenty of water. And he will most definitely scold you if you miss your meals because you didn’t want to lose a round in a game

He’ll make sure to leave snacks and water by you whenever you’re playing a video game. Sometimes he’ll leave a blanket or drape a cozy blanket over you before returning to his laptop to work, ensuring you’re comfy while he focuses on his tasks.

He'll sit right beside you, gently massaging one of your free hands. Zayne is always attentive to your well-being, so whenever you lose a game or whenever the game becomes too challenging, he'll suggest taking a short walk outside to get some fresh air and to stretch your legs.

He does get curious when he sees you on your console or pc. He hears you laughing or possibly raging about a game and he wants to know what’s happening. When you let him try out a game, he’ll prefer to watch you first before trying it out.

It’s honestly cute when he’s focused. He’d listen to your guidance and he’s a very patient learner, he never gets frustrated whenever he doesn’t get something right the first time. Eventually he quickly picks up the mechanics of each game, often surpassing your skills in no time! He just has natural hand-eye coordination.

Rafayel:

He’s probably the most out of these four to be bothered that you play video games a lot. He’s literally offended that you think spending all your time playing video games is a better time than spending time with him but he’s literally busy with his paintings whenever you're on your game.

Eventually he will cave and join in and watch you. Until he wants to play. and he. does. not. give. the. controller. back. until he wins. He would look at you with a pout whenever he loses, hoping you would erase that from your memory.

He’s actually not bad at playing video games and mostly wins whatever games you play. However, if it was a gacha game and you ask him to do your pulls because he’s your ‘good luck’ charm, his ego would soar. But if he ends up losing your 50/50, he’ll blame you and it was definitely not because of him that he lost.

You two would stay up so late playing, immersed in gaming. Most of the time he’d simply watch you play, offering some enthusiasm and being your cheerleader or sometimes he’d be your backseat gamer. He’d be right beside you, shaking you in excitement and pointing at the screen, completely immersed with you in the game.

Over time, he picks up your gaming lingo and eventually incorporates it into your conversations and text messages, sometimes leaving Thomas confused about the nonsense you two talk about.

Sylus:

He would pass by the living room and see you and the twins playing video games and he would be a little curious. He doesn’t understand at first what's so intriguing about it but then suddenly he’s doing that dad stance by the tv, clearly intrigued. He’d be mostly intrigued if it were games that involved fighting or action and he would be SAT on that couch watching you play.

He’d likely point out that the guns and fighting strategies in those games aren’t very realistic. But he’s also very quick to praise you, cheering you on whenever you land a perfect shot or execute a great move. A skilled hunter in person and in game? He’s impressed and very proud of his girl.

He’d have his arm relaxed against the back of the couch while you rest your head in his lap, engrossed in your game. He loves listening to you share your thoughts about the games you play, finding it utterly adorable to hear you talk about your many interests. He pays close attention, wanting to remember every detail about it so he can discuss them with you more in the future.

He mostly watches you play and sometimes when you offer to let him play, he'll try it out! He's good at the games because he's watched you enough to see how the games work and he's listened to you talk about it a lot! But when he loses really badly, he's kind of a sore loser, making up excuses how the game isn't as realistic in real life.

Sylus will buy things to make your gaming setup more comfortable! Knowing how often you game, he’ll surprise you here and there with a better gaming chair or a headset, along with any upgrades that will make your gaming experience more comfy!

While he’s away working, he’ll text you reminders to eat and stretch, and let you know when your favorite food is on the way, ensuring you can enjoy a meal while you game.

[pomefioredove]

I love you're writing!! Hope the exam went well!!!

Can you give us some good Ole cheesy, romantic, vil fluff??

I just want to kiss and cuddle him FOREVER

the vil love never ends on this blog. this turned out to be more sappy than anything. hope you enjoy nonetheless~!

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ comfort

type of post: short fic characters: vil additional info: romantic, established relationship, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu, comfort & fluff

"Can you please come over?"

The words weigh on Vil's shoulders as he walks across campus. They're heavy.

It's dark, and the air is cold. You're probably shivering, you never dress warm enough-

He pushes the thought away. No use in stressing himself any more.

"I just don't want to be alone right now,"

Vil hadn't asked why. He had a thought. He didn't want it to be right, but he's always right.

His steps are faster. Damn the curfew. Rook can handle the dorm for a single evening. And morning. And day. However long it takes.

He lets himself in without knocking. "Prefect?" he calls for you in title first. "Sweetheart?" and in petname second.

It's dark inside Ramshackle. He pulls off his shoes and coat, and hurriedly makes his way upstairs. Your door is closed.

"Are you in there?"

He holds his breath until you answer. "...Yes,"

"May I come in?"

"...Yeah,"

Vil opens the door, mercifully unlocked, and lets himself in. It's dark in your room, too, but he can still make out the huddled shape of you in bed.

"Sweetheart, it's freezing in here," he says. "Are you cold?"

You say nothing. He sighs, momentarily catching the eye of Grim, nesting in your arms. The direbeast says nothing.

"How can I help?" he asks, eyes lingering on the strange position you've curled up in. "...May I touch you?"

You nod. Good, Vil thinks, and he gets in bed behind you. He and Grim make a sort of... you sandwich, the two on either side of your body. As soon as he's settled, though, Grim stretches and hops off the bed.

Vil takes that to mean, you've got it from here.

"Darling," he says, delicately stroking the side of your face. "Are you sick?"

You hesitate, but nod anyway. He knows what you mean. And his heart aches for you.

"That's alright. That's perfectly alright," Vil says, holding you close to his chest, his arms around your waist.

"I'm here. You're safe."

You mumble something against him. It's unintelligible, but he's sure you meant it to be.

"I'm not going anywhere, don't worry," he whispers, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "I love you very, very much. Everything will be alright."

You're very quiet. It scares him, but he won't say that, not now. Now, he just needs you to feel better.

He pets you softly, playing with your hair. "My love, my darling. My favorite person in the entire world,"

You hum. He can feel your arms, now, wrapping around his waist, as if to get closer, seeking his warmth and comfort. It's everything to him.

"There," he whispers, kissing your head again. "Get some rest. I won't go anywhere, I'm here. I'm right here."

It's a little funny, he thinks. The only time he can excuse cutting his evening routine is when it's for you. On your rough, threadbare sheets, in a rickety bed, in a drafty house in the cold of winter.

He'll get you out of here, someday.

But for now, he holds you, and thinks of what he's going to make you for breakfast.

[fillinforlater]

The Archive of Smite

This page belongs to the writer named Smite. He wrote fics starting in September of 2021 up until April 2024. In these 2,5 years, over 8.000 people followed him to read some of the craziest k-pop girl group smut out there. Almost 150 stories of sex in all kinds of positions, for many reasons, all over the world (and in outerspace), with too many kinks to count.

"When I started, I kinda wanted to become the best. I wanted my favorite writers at the time - Levi, Peach, Sins, and many more - to know that I could write as good as they can. I wanted to go wilder and crazier."

Smite, though ambitious, was also stupid and naive. At roughly the same time he started writing, two other community legends began their careers. IZ and Kaede crushed everything in their sight, especially the former becoming an absolute legend.

"Writing was fun. At times, it was escapism from everyday worries. At other times, it was fulfillment of fantasies I could never reach. Mostly though, it was just horny. BFH that just became words. If you go through my Masterlist, you might see which idols had some random heights or were just... Always on my hot list."

Smite never really stopped writing, not for long stretches that is. It didn't really occur to him that there might be a sudden, drastic reason to stop. He considered doing so anyways. Something about writing porn about irl people without them knowing or wanting - needless to say, it is an odd hobby. Nevertheless, he enjoyed it amd the community it brought with it.

"I fucking love these guys. So many hilarious peoplefrom all over the world. One became like my best friend, a rock during my emotional struggles. Another was my boyfriend for a short time. Man, I screwed up with him kekw. There are too many to mention. I've had long talks with some, others just came by and listened to me mald or something. I love you all, some of you I consider true friends - part of my soul - and I feel connected, even if you are thousands of miles away."

2024 started stressful for Smite. The pressure of Uni started to collapse on him. Even the thought of big kpop concerts wasn't enough to cheer him up. Luckily though, there was this girl. Sweet, kind, caring and in the same position. Soon, he had found something that seemed impossible. She was in love with him and he in love with her. And when everything unraveled.

"I stopped writing. I burried my drafts. I finished only one story and released it way later. I'm sorry I didn't announce it properly, but I just felt that this smut writing career was over. I don't regret it - I gained something beautiful I want to keep for the rest of my life. She is at least as pretty as Minju, so I call that the biggest win imaginable lol."

So no more smuts from Smite?

"99% no"

No more fanfictions/girl group stories in general?

"Eh, 80% no. Still some unfinished angst that I would love y'all to read tho"

Will you ever reach those 150 fics?

"We will see. In this count there are fics with less than 1000 words. I might just sneeze and finish it kekw"

Any fic you regret not writing?

"Not really? Maybe a proper ending for Starship: Horizon? Or yet another Minju fic? Futa stuff? Gaeul angst x female reader? Or how about a fic with 69 different idols at once? Who but me would dare to write something so stupid?"

Do you think you reached your initial goal?

"Do I consider myself the GOAT? No. That title belongs to either Peach, Levi or IZ. But I know that of my now 8.700 followers some consider me their favorite writer. I'm flattered and thank you very much for reading amd enjoying my work."

Now for the most important question: does this post mean you are finally leaving the community behind for good? Is this your last hoorah?

"..."

"Never."

[777heavengirl]

AM - Chapter 1

Snap Out Of It 

Sirius Black x reader Chapter 1/3 Warnings: angst?, smoking, suggestive themes, fwb to lovers word count: 4,684 masterlist

Currently playing: Snap Out Of It by the Arctic Monkeys

Chapters i, ii, iii

Sirius Black does not care. He doesn't care about who you date or hang out with. He does not care that when you smile the corner of your eyes crinkle or that he made you laugh so hard once you actually cried. Sirius does not care that the pink hair clips Remus got you for your birthday matched your lip gloss, as well as the underwear you wore on his birthday. He doesn’t care that you don’t protest when he doesn’t want you spending the night. He doesn’t care that you risked the wrath of Walburga Black by sneaking into the Black household during the summer, just to help heal his wounds as they were so extensive he could not do it alone. He doesn’t care that you always wink at him before your quidditch matches. He doesn’t care that you ditched him to hang out with a no-name blond from-

Sirius didn't want to remember what house he was in, much less his name.

The Gryffindor common room was warm and fairly empty. While the marauders never wasted an opportunity to run around Hogsmeade for a couple of hours, it had been the collective decision, dictated by the foulness of Sirius’s mood, that the lot would stay in the castle today. At least for the first part of the day. It was now 5 in the afternoon.

Remus slapped his book closed, nothing short of exasperated. Although sitting crisscross on the large plush armchair and reading had helped negate the hostile vibrations Sirius had been emitting the past hour, enough was enough.

“If you’re going to pout all day about Y/N’s absence, invite her to Hogsmeade yourself instead next time,”

“Is that where she is? Hadn’t noticed,”

“You are a terrible liar Pads please spare us,” James groaned from the ground, his back against the bottom half of the armchair Remus sat on.

“I don’t know why you think I give a rat’s ass where she is or who she’s with right now,” Sirius knew he was really stretching it now, his tone hadn’t exactly come across as calm and nonchalant. Quite the opposite, his brows had furrowed his face into a scowl and Remus had taken this as his sign to leave, getting up from his chair, James sluggishly crawling into the now empty spot.

“Y/N is not yours Sirius,” Peter frowned at the boy. Sirius’s clenched jaw and hard stare did nothing but spur Peter into rolling his eyes. “You don’t get to be upset when you insist there is nothing between the two of you and then expect her to be at your beck and call,” Peter swiftly got up after, not wanting to even hear what Sirius had to say. They were best mates, but that didn’t mean that any of the marauders wouldn’t tell Sirius Black when he was being an asshole. Peter grabbed his coat from the back of the couch, as he and Remus made a beeline to the common room door, no doubt to make their way to Hogsmeade, enough of the day had been wasted. The fat lady's singing, as she so often fancied doing, perforated the room briefly as the boys opened and closed the door.

“Seriously mate,” James shook his head. ‘You need to snap out of it”. Sirius looked up from his spot on the couch, his legs could now stretch with Peter’s absence and he took the cushion Peter had been hugging to put between his back and the arm of the couch. He couldn't help but stare at the ceiling. James started speaking mindlessly about anything, really, the new prank they wanted to try out, if he should ask Lily Evans on a second date or if it was too soon? I reckon she enjoyed it though. James knew quite well Sirius hadn't been truly listening, but he didn't mind. Not really anyway. He knew his friend quite well, he knew the feelings the boy was trying to repress were bound to bubble up sometime. He had caught Sirius staring at you the entire time you had been at Hogwarts. His eyes trailed after you since you were 11. Since you met on the train.

It wasn't like James didn't know what had been happening recently either. You had been attached at the hip since the ripe age of 5. He was your closest confidant, you joked you were actually cousins. Siblings. He had known about the spirals of conflicted feelings you had fallen on during your fifth year. Much to your own dismay, you liked Sirius Black.

James had a low-key way of encouraging it, even knowing the casanova tendencies Sirius had started to display. The way you bounced off of each other, the jokes, the irony, the stolen glances. The way Sirius's touch always seemed to drift towards you, small pushes after jokes, sweeping you off the ground as you landed, snitch still in your grip. You'd have to be blind to not see the chemistry the two of you had.

Maybe Sirius needed glasses.

James did, however, regret encouraging you. Since April of your fifth year til now, February of your sixth, you had been tangled in Sirius's bed sheets. But not his heart. He wouldn't allow it. And you acted like you didn't either. James held you a good couple of times, as the sobs broke your chest and endless tears poured from your eyes. It isn't his fault Jamie, promise me you won't be mad at him. He couldn't exactly bring himself to let your heartbreak roll off his back, but he didn't want to expose your feelings. So he kept his mouth shut and went to crazy lengths to make sure Sirius wasn't seeing anyone else. Pulling Sirius into crazy unprompted schemes, setting up the girl of the week with someone else, and putting all sorts of spells to lock their door during parties. This one had left them locked out and sleeping in the common room quite a few times. Remus hadn't been happy.

James had tried his best.

Sirius continued to stare up, eyes glazed over as he tried to count the cracks in the ceiling of the common room. He wondered if you were having fun. If the unnamed blond made you laugh. Had you laughed to the point of tears? He doubted it, he looked a bit dull.

Sirius Black did not care that when he asked you if you were going on a date, you blushed, waving off his statement like it was a cloud of smoke.

-

You didn’t want to piss off Sirius. That actually wasn’t the goal at all, because who the bloody hell cares what he thinks? Yet you couldn’t help but think of him while you sat in Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop.

He'd hate this place.

The tea shop was a cute place, it frankly was. It was a rather twee location, filled to the brim with bows and frills. You stared holes into the lacy napkins and sugar bowls. You didn't particularly dislike it. It was cute and you had grown to cherish the pinks and bows, that came with what some defined as femininity. But you enjoyed such things in moderation. And in secret. A lacy napkin stuck out slightly from your small handbag pushed down in a hurry. It would be nice for your scrapbook.

It was the date spot for the hopeless romantics. Or the pushy ones too. You didn’t peg Mr. Jacob Brown as one to frequent such places, but you wouldn’t say no to a free meal with a handsome man.

You weren't usually into blondes though.

You shared the same table as him for Potions. Slytherin and Gryffindor were mixed in this class and you had a feeling Slughorn was regretting this fact as the term trudged along. Jacob was not what you expected. He was one of the more quiet ones, if you squinted he reminded you a bit of Peter. Demeanor wise at least. Jacob's kind eyes found it hard to look straight at yours as he caught you after class, you wouldn't have heard him calling you if he hadn't been in front of you. You could feel Sirius's eyes burning holes into the back of your head as he wanted at the classroom's door while you talked with the tall boy. You opted to ignore him as you listened to Jacob stutter out how he'd be delighted if you would be up for going to Hogsmeade with him on Saturday. You didn't need to say yes though,

You did.

His tall stature, golden blond hair, and tanned skin quite contrasted not only your dear friend Peter but a certain boy you were trying painfully hard not to think about. Jacob was quiet and kind, with a knack for exploding whatever was brewing in his cauldron often. But when you met up with him at Hogsmeade, the frigid February air bitting your cheeks, it was like he had come loose, his usually tense demeanor relaxed and warm. He complimented your outfit quite thoughtfully too.

You wondered if Sirius would like it too.

"Did you hear me Y/N?" You blinked, fuck.

"Merlin no, I'm sorry Jacob I got distracted," he lightly chuckled at the apologetic twist in your face "The frills y'know?" you said with a circular motion of your hand. The boy couldn't help but laugh.

"I was just asking if you liked your dessert, you've barely touched it" his lips spread into a small smile as you glanced at the abandoned oversugared pastry sitting in front of you. It wasn't bad, but much like this place, the cloying taste was sticking to your gums.

"No, I did! But maybe we should've shared it I feel like I'm going to go into a diabetic coma," you let out a laugh, standing up, prompting him to do the same. "Do you want to maybe go for a walk?"

His lips split into a wide smile as he dropped the change of galleons onto the table.

"You're a blessing, let's go,"

Maybe this would go better than you had thought.

-

"So?" James wiggled his eyebrows, throwing a look over his shoulder briefly, catching a certain Slytherin staring from the other side of the hall. Jacob turned as red as the Gryffindor table runner. "How was your date with the shy lad over there?"

James could feel Sirius glaring at him from his spot next to you. He hadn't left your side since you came back, an easy smile on your face much to his dismay. You had come just in time for dinner, meeting the boys as they came down.

"it was really good," a smile broke on your face, your hand still felt warm with the ghost of Jacob's. You couldn't help but contrast this new boy and Sirius. The way he asked to hold your hand, Sirius only ever threw his arm around your shoulders, the way he seemed sincere and upfront with his intentions, the way he complimented you at every turn. Genuinely too, his big brown eyes showing nothing but pure kindness.

You struggled to find a time Sirius had genuinely complimented you. One that wasn't from in between his sheets.

"Well don't just spill it all at once," You couldn't help but roll your eyes at James. Impatient fellow wasn't he?

"Well, he took me to Madam Puddifoot's" a collective groan came out of all the boys' mouths.

"So cheesy-" Peter laughed at the thought,

"He's a bloody wanker if you ask me, reject him while we're ahead," Sirius mumbled as he popped a grape into his mouth, regaining his failing appetite. You shook your head, cheeks tinted red. Of course, Sirius would say that. You couldn't even imagine him in that tea shop, much less even considering that you may have liked it. You couldn't help but frown. Although you had a good time, you secretly wished you were out with Sirius instead. You wished he'd compliment you, you wished he'd open the door for you and ask you your favorite flavor of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor bean. You wished he'd hold your hand, you wished he'd kiss your cheek as you said goodbyes. You wished he liked you enough to be bashful at the thought of asking you out.

You wished Sirius would just ask you out.

"Well, I'll have you know I quite enjoyed it," Sirius suddenly didn't feel hungry again, pushing his plate away. "after the abusively sweet dessert caught up with me, we went for a walk," Remus couldn't help but push the plate of food back in front of Sirius, giving him a pointed look.

"We talked a whole lot, he asked me stuff I don't think anyone has ever asked about me before like really detailed stuff," you couldn't help but pause as you thought about it, his interest in the things you liked, your favorite quidditch team, what you thought of your divination class.

"He asked to hold my hand-"

"Who the hell does that?" you failed to notice the kick James sent into Sirius's shins. He kicked back.

"I just haven't had a good time like that in a while, he was so genuine" James and Peter smiled widely, Remus slowly breaking into a smile as well as they all stared at your face. It was obvious you were happy, the way you hadn't stopped repressing a smile, the small bite of your lip as you thought about it more.

James wasn't going to let Sirius ruin it. As Sirius opened his mouth to speak James stepped on his foot as hard as he could.

"We are all very happy it went well," Sirius let out through the pain, and immediately James took back his foot.

"Thanks, Black," you hadn't called him that in ages. Sirius felt his heart clench, as well as his throat. He'd prefer if James stepped on him again.

You didn't last much longer at the Great Hall, waving them goodbye as you went up with Lily and Mary, spilling all the details to them as well.

"You're the bloody wanker Padfoot," James hissed, Sirius rolled his eyes as he pushed his plate of food away. Remus rolled his eyes too. It was like they were taking care of a child at this point.

Sirius stayed quiet, as he rested his cheek on his hand. Eyes looking for the blond on the far side of the Great Hall. He still didn't know which house to look in.

"Don't do anything to the poor boy" Remus frowned, Sirius always had something to bite back with. Always some quip, some remark. But he stayed silent.

Sirius stared blankly at Remus. He didn't know why. But the truth was that he wanted to beat the boy to a pulp. He didn't have a reason. You weren't his, he made sure of that. The kilometer-long distance he put between you and his heart. He didn't have any reason to be jealous, it wasn't his place. There had to be something wrong with the guy.

When he broke your heart you'd run back to Sirius.

-

Sirius didn't care. He didn't care that he could hear your giggles from the other side of the potions classroom as you helped the blond boy. He didn't care that you had disappeared the last two weekends to hang out with him. He heard from Remus you were trying to teach him how to fly. Imbecile.

He didn't care that he hadn't kissed you in two and a half weeks. Not since the day the boy had asked you out. Sirius Black was perfectly fine and did not at all care that you ran to hug Jacob after your latest victory. The boy had been waiting for you at the changing room's door even if it had been a win against his own house. Leaving Sirius standing in the middle of the pitch, being dragged inside by James. Sirius didn't care that you were missing from the victory party thrown later that night. He saw your names floating together on the map, they mocked him as he tried to swallow the knot at his throat. The rest of the night felt like a blur, like the entire world flew around him and he remained still.

In the two weeks since the date, you had drifted so far from his grasp. He missed the smell of your hair, you always smelled vaguely of vanilla. It was spicy and intoxicating and he could never get enough of it. He missed your laughter when he made some stupid joke. He missed having you in his arms. He missed how soft and supple your skin was. He missed the way your lips would curl up in a smirk when he said something vaguely snarky, or when they roped you into some scheme that would definitely land the lot of you in detention. The way you rambled on about constellations and everything else that crossed your mind when you sat at the top of the astronomy tower. The way you would rip away the occasional cigarette from his mouth, talking about these not being the muggle habits he should be picking up, you'd always take a quick drag before putting it out.

He didn't care that he felt a pit at the bottom of his stomach for two weeks.

"Do you think he'll ask me to be his girlfriend?" you felt juvenile even asking, your words had been barely a whisper, they hung heavy in the common room as Lily, Alice, and Frank as well as the marauders all lounged around. It was fairly late, so the place lay otherwise empty. Your arms hugged your legs as you sat in the far corner of the couch, staring directly into the fire not wanting to see anyone's face. You usually were overjoyed at spending time like this, with all of your friends. Alice and Frank's relationship had brought the girls closer to the marauders as Frank was already a close friend. You no longer had to divide your time between your friends and James got to be around Lily.

James was delighted, of course, patting Frank's back with an I knew we were friends for a reason Frankie dear, the first time the girls stuck around to hang out.

But you had felt a tension lately, even with Lily and the rest of the girls. Like they were hesitant about your blooming relationship. Like they all knew something you didn't. Like they were waiting for some other shoe to drop. The smiles Lily shot your way as you talked about the boy and how well he treated you, were the same type of smile she used to give Marlene when she was delusional about some girl last term and didn't have the heart to tell her. James looked at you like you might break any minute, nervous to speak about your romantic affair. Sirius was completely avoiding you. You were scared you were reading too much into the compliments, into the attention you were receiving.

The tension came to a close when James spoke, his body was taking up 90% of the couch you were on, and he lay on his side. You knew his eyes stared into Lily's curled form. His foot poked yours as he spoke lowly,

"What makes you think he wouldn't?"

"Well-"

"None of that," Alice spoke up from Frank's arms on the opposite couch. He slowly fed jellybeans into her mouth as she spoke, the varying flavors making her face scrunch up every so often. "you're so lovely, and if he can't see that and commit then I'll blast him to hell myself," Lily hummed in agreement from her spot on one of the armchairs, sleep tugging at her eyelids.

"Cheers to that," Sirius spoke from his spot on the carpet, spread like a starfish in front of the fire. James wanted to kick his head in the fire. Sirius would probably welcome it at this point. He felt a knot form in his throat at your words.

Peter snored from the armchair next to Lily's.

"There's no reason to think he won't Y/N," Remus said softly from his spot also on the floor, his back resting on the front of the sofa seat, directly in front of you. You carded your fingers through his hair, and he shot you a small smile. You felt pathetic. You stared into the fire.

It wasn't as if Jacob hadn't been clear. He was really into you, and every second that he was free he'd find an excuse to be around you. Even when his housemates looked at him like he was mad. You felt a swirl of emotions clawing at your throat, almost to the point that you couldn't breathe. You wondered what Sirius thought. You hadn't talked in so long.

You almost felt bad at taking every ounce of attention Jacob gave you, you felt terrible. Like you were using him. Godric were you using him?

Were you using this poor boy to get over Sirius?

No! you liked him, he was kind and he never smirked nor got under your skin. He didn't laugh at you or drive you up the wall with his winks and smirks. He was nice and kind. He was kind yes. Probably what you liked best, one of his best qualities. And let's not forget how agreeable his face was, his strong features and dirty blond hair. And his parents were Americans! You didn't hear that often…

You thought back to December. When Sirius read to you in French, with your head on his chest and his fingers running through your hair. The grounds had been covered in white, cold seeping in through the windows. The words on the page, although foreign to you, rolled off his tongue with ease. Sirius had joked that this would be your Christmas present. He chuckled as you covered your face when he took out a little red box from his bedside table.

You fiddled with the thin golden bracelet he gave you that Christmas.

You felt like you were fighting back tears.

-

"Thought you'd be in love and giggling on some corner of the castle," Your feet dangled from the top of the astronomy tower, and although the security of the metal bars made sure you weren't going to fall, the lack of ground under your feet made you feel at the mercy of the air. Your fingerless gloves did little to stop the biting cold and your fingertips looked pale but you moved them nevertheless, taking the lit cigarette out of your mouth. Your large jacket and the sweater you had stolen from their dorm helped a bit, but you had sat unmoving for a good thirty minutes. You briefly thought of a professor finding you frozen in place the next morning. "I also remember you saying we shouldn't be picking these habits up hm?"

Sirius sat on the floor next to you, feet also dangling through the metal bars. His own jacket was zipped up to the top and the black leather material shone under the light of the moon. This was a different jacket from the one he used when he rode around on his stupid muggle motorbike. It was big and the leather looked soft and worn. His pajama bottoms couldn't be providing him with enough heat though… That wasn't really your problem, was it?

He took the cigarette from your fingers taking a drag.

"Not like you ever listen to me Black,"

"I hate it when you call me that," Sirius passed it back to you, his voice low. The cloud emanating from your lips turned and mixed with Sirius's in front of you. The crescent moon highlighted the swirls of smoke dancing in the air.

"And I hate smoking-"

"Then why are we here?" He hummed as he took the cigarette from you, taking another drag and putting it out on the side of the tower.

"Why are you here?" for the first time since he had arrived you turned to look at him. He did not turn to look back. His side profile was enviable. His defined nose, the plump lips, the way his pearly pale skin contrasted against his coal black hair. It was shorter than usual. His mom had maimed his hair during the two days he passed in his household during Christmas. He was trying desperately to grow it out again. The moon seemed to make him almost black and white. It was like watching a monochromatic film, and you were hooked on it.

You thought of the brown tinge his hair had during the summer months.

"Get bored of the blond yet?" you scoffed, taking out the pack of Player's No 6 cigarettes from your jacket pocket.

"He has a name, not that it matters to you" The ribs of the wheel on the lighter scratched at your thumb as you flicked it quickly, but the flickering warmth made your thumb feel like it was finally shedding a layer of ice. You lit your second cigarette of the night.

You really did hate smoking. You didn't answer his question.

Sirius moved his hand to take the cigarette from your mouth, as you let out the smoke. You moved his hand away, offering the pack instead.

He took the container in his hand and chucked it through the air. You watched with wide eyes as it disappeared through the air, the shadow of night covering whatever hint of where they may have landed. He took the cigarette from your lips and took a drag.

"What is up your ass Black?" you snarled at him, you felt your lips quiver as he finally looked at you one of his insufferable smirks on his face.

"You shouldn't be smoking love, it ain't good for ya," he took another drag and offered you the cigarette once again.

You felt like you were going to blow a fuse. You brought your legs back from the brink, tucking them in and using the bars as leverage to swing yourself up. Your fingers clutched the lighter in your pocket tightly. Sirius stared at the spot you had been sitting at.

"You're such a prick Sirius Black," he finally turned to look at you "You can never let me be happy, you won't even let me have my cigarettes,"

"come on love-" you scoffed, you could feel the hot tears welling up in your eyes.

"Dont 'love' me, you're so selfish" You could see his jaw clench, his chest rising as he took a deep breath in surprise. "go find yourself someone else to satisfy your needs, you will not keep me in this vicious loop any longer,"

You made to leave but turned back "His name is Jacob by the way, and I am not in love with him but he doesn't make me cry Sirius," he could see the trail of tears down your cheeks, the glow of the moon reflecting off of them. It was like you were crying starlight. He had never hated his name falling from your lips more than he did this moment.

"And that's all you do," he felt the bile crawling up his throat,

"You make me cry."