#(and its a wonder he wants to be friends with be despite how clearly infatuated with him i am)

[domesticated-whores]

damn, I'm falling too hard in love with an irl man... that isn't very genderqueer introvert fandom girlie of me...

[cloudiinumaki]

can't you see? (when you're oblivious)

NOTES ! — could've written these two scenarios into oneshots.... was NOTT bothered. anyways man ive been misreading satoru as santa a lot lately i keep on thinking "damn since when was santa in jjk" . honestly need to take a nap asap bc its happened too much... CHARACTERS ! — yuji itadori, megumi fushiguro (separate)

WARNINGS ! — lowercase strikes again (intentionally i swear), but its fluff so no warnings really

REQUESTS OPEN !

YUJI.

— quite simply, you guys are made for each other. sure, i'm well aware of how smart and determined yuji can be, but i know that that doesn't translate into romance, he's definitely oblivious too.

— when he notices his crush on you first forming, he's definitely the type to sigh forlornly and talk to nobara and megumi about it, dramatic and all about "how cool they are" and so on and so forth. and the whole time he's on this dramatic spiel, she just wants to hit him over the head with her hammer, because how is it not obvious that you've already been liking him for a while???

— unbeknownst to yuji, nobara's already been dealing with terribly similar conversations from you, both of you just as infatuated with each other. that infatuation means that nobara's had to deal with your pining for a while, and you always seem to end up repeating yourself, looping back into the phrase of "can't you see how cute he is?"

— no. nobara cannot see that, but she does allow you to vent your frustrated feelings as one of her closest friends. it's almost sweet how you two mirror each other despite not even knowing. but, it's you two, so she won't actually say it is.

— it's surprising because usually you're quite competent and honestly smart, exorcising and working in a way that's almost methodical, even from megumi's eyes.

— but, megumi's also noted the fact that that same competence of yours obviously didn't translate into competence with crushes, as you were the sole cause he was having to deal with yuji's complaining, overly-dramatic self, and his statements of "they're so cute, you don't get it".

— no, megumi didn't 'get it'. you two were both as stupid as each other, honestly.

— still, nobara insisted that this situation be solved between you and yuji alone, it wouldn't be right for them to interfere anyway… (even if they were starting to reach their wit's ends). all they could really do was push yuji to make his efforts more obvious, if that was even possible.

— but, even when yuji starts trying to leave hints (they're hardly even hints with how obvious he makes it), somehow you manage to not notice it.

— maybe it's a one time thing, he thinks, but as he tries a few times more to make it clear, you're speaking just as usual without missing a single beat.

— he gets you your favourite plushie from the arcade after toiling for ages to beat the clearly rigged machine...

— you both go into one those purikura photobooths with the built-in filters, making the photos as silly as possible, and take an excessive amount of photos.

— you even go and watch the new addition to the line of 'human earthworm' movies together, sharing from the same bucket of popcorn. all things done with just the two of you, looking and feeling just like a date and a confession rolled into one.

— could it really be more obvious how he feels??? (it couldn't).

— honestly, after a while, he did end up wondering if you didn't like him back at all, considering if this silence was just your way of trying not to ruin the really good friendship you guys already shared.

— maybe you'd changed your mind and just didn't want to offend him by saying so..

— maybe he'd misread the situation...

— meanwhile you're mentally freaking out about how good of a friend he is that it almost feels like more, trying and failing to stop yourself from feeling something that you're so certain is unreciprocated.

— this same song and dance continues for a while, until one day, even yuji's generous patience runs thin, and he decides to just tell you upfront.

— he's more careful with his words than usual, not wanting to burden you too much with these feelings and yet having to get them out because he's being driven to insanity with how everything is going…

— at his confession, you look genuinely surprised, replying that you didn't know he felt like that too.

— too???? his mind is sent for a spin at that one word, and you two quickly clear up the matter, both relieved and slightly embarrassed at how incredibly slow you'd been to pick up on the other's feelings.

— yeah, you guys are made for each other.

MEGUMI.

— he's not sure how much longer he can take this.

— honestly, when megumi realised what exactly his newfound and highly unusual feelings were, he did feel a sense of foreboding. part of that was probably down to the fact that he realised that he'd have to navigate these new and somewhat uncomfortable feelings towards you…

— and the other part was the fact that if he wanted you to know these feelings, it would take effort.

— from the way megumi had seen you accidentally brush off people who'd been interested in you before, without even knowing that they were interested in you, it was quite obvious that you were the textbook definition of oblivious.

— in battle, you were a capable sorcerer. in training, you were dedicated and hard-working. in matters of like or love… absolutely atrocious, so bad that even he was noticing.

— megumi's not the type to make confessions. he knows he isn't. but he's also quite aware that if he doesn't tell you upfront, you'll never know.

— and, since he's still unsure of what exactly you feel, he's resigned himself to that scenario. the feelings will pass, eventually.

— and, eventually, gojo and nobara will stop teasing him about it. he's really not that obvious, having grown accustommed to keeping his emotions and thoughts safely concealed behind his usual impassive expressions. but, somehow, those two can tell like sharks sense blood, like they have a penchant for finding anything to embarrass megumi with. — it doesn't help that he finds his gaze annoyingly pulled towards you again and again, no matter if you're doing the most mundane thing ever. it certainly doesn't help that whenever he's caught out doing so, he finds his ears going annoyingly red, making it clear to anyone who's noticed this quirk of his that he's embarrassed despite his perfectly calm facial expression.

— after a typical mission for nobara, yuji and him, the topic of you comes up again whilst they're walking back. there's the usual teasing and jokes made lightheartedly, almost routine, and megumi knows their words have no true bite to them.

— but, then nobara asks, "but really, you're not going to tell them about it?" her tone's almost concerned by the prospect, clearly disapproving of his current plan. "you shouldn't just assume their answer will be a straight 'no'."

— he hears her words, recognising the truth in them with reluctance… but, why should he complicate what's already good enough with these clunky feelings of his? it's really not as important as they're making it out to be.

— megumi doesn't entertain her with an articulated response, simply humming in acknowledgement. what was he even supposed to say?

— when he glances at the two a few moments later, the silence stretching uncomfortably long, he notices nobara and yuji fixing him with the same, slightly judging look.

— he rolls his eyes, and lets the conversation slip back into less controversial topics, but he can't help but think about what nobara said for a while after.

— perhaps it's better to say something, anything. if it doesn't go to plan, then he can just act like he never said it and disregard any memory of it. right? those thoughts didn't ease his mind much.

— as he's heading to his dorm that night, he overhears the slight voices from inside your room, clearly you and nobara chatting about something, the door left ajar. he's not an eavesdropper, never has been one, so he continues walking down the hallway until he unintentionally hears something that makes him freeze.

— you were complaining about how you still liked your crush even though he didn't care… he hadn't even known you'd had one?

— and, then before he'd even had the time to deal with the slight stirrings of jealousy he felt bubbling up, you mentioned him by name??? as your crush??

— what was he even supposed to do with that information?

— he obviously wasn't meant to learn this knowledge, was almost about to give up his feelings anyway, yet this was the moment he found out? the universe had a weird sense of humour.

— before he'd had the chance to mentally unpack this new information, he'd heard the shuffling of you getting up and your brief explanation to nobara of "getting some water". so, of course, you'd see each other, standing in the hallway silently.

— and, of course it was the most awkward silence for a few moments before you asked in your usual voice, trying to remain calm and go insane, just to confirm that you had the worst luck of any jujutsu sorcerer yet, "did you hear all of that?"

— …there's not even a point in him lying to save face.

— needless to say, after one painful but relieving conversation outside (he couldn't confess to you in a hallway, especially not when nobara might hear), you'd both cleared up the misunderstandings that had plagued you and were now officially... something. you didn't want to rush it, and neither did he, but nobara noticed you returning to your dorm with your glass of water in a distinctly happier mood, your earlier complaints about megumi suddenly subsiding.

— you didn't tell her specifically what had happened, but it was already quite clear. you were oblivious to more than just love, nobara was beginning to notice. you were also oblivious to the fact that you were stupidly easy to read.

[choerypetal]

Catton's Little Puppet / Oliver Quick & Felix Catton

summary: Oliver had harbored a long-standing obsession with both the reader and Felix. Despite his discomfort at witnessing the two together, he saw it as a chance to strategically earn their trust in an unconventional manner. It was an opportunity for Felix to potentially welcome him into their partnership, transforming the dynamic into a trio where they would all be equals, yet each holding a unique role—masters entwined in the intricate dance of their own puppetry.

ps: English is not my primary language, so I apologize for any errors or mistakes. If you choose to use or replicate my work without proper credit, it may be subject to being flagged.

tag list: @bananzaa @sisgotdemons enjoy!

Oliver hated everything about you when you two first met. 

Oliver hated the way your hips seamlessly moved to the rhythm of the music. Your smile captured the essence of every words from the songs you knew by heart. As you clutched the now-empty beer cup, poised to pour another for yourself, Felix's arm effortlessly wrapped around your waist. In a swift motion, he pulled you to his side, mirroring the smile Oliver had admired the first time actually meeting Felix. Oliver couldn't help but think that if he averted his gaze for even a second, Felix's and your lips would meet. The scene drew him back into the room later that evening, only for Felix and you to vanish until the sunrise.

Oliver hated when, the next day, you walked into class looking all polished and preppy. Although he knew that it was only an illusion, as you had once shared with him that it was simply a matter of practice. Even suggesting he follow suit that same morning. During Oliver's first week, you didn't have much information about him, like everyone. Oliver had found himself completely withdraw by your beauty upon entering on that same morning when you arrived late– clearly hungover from the homecoming of the school’s first day and an obvious amount of hickeys left from Felix. How Oliver wanted his to also be marked through Felix’s. 

Oliver hated witnessing your interactions with Felix. Typically, he would pay no attention if it were any other girls, but there was something about you that intrigued him. It all truly began when Felix introduced you to him on the same evening after borrowing Oliver's bike. "So, you're the faithful hero who saved Felix. But in the end, who can resist such charm, am I right, dear?" That marked the second time Oliver had heard your voice, yet this time it felt genuine – natural and almost too angelic to let go until its last breath. “Oh, right! Where are my manners? I'm Y/N. And you?”

“Oliver, but you can call me Ollie.” He said without insistence, a departure from his earlier encounters with Felix in person. A surge of confidence enveloped him, particularly as you extended your hand for a proper handshake, a gesture Felix took delight in complimenting, deepening Oliver's infatuation. “And thanks to Y/N's wonderful parents for bringing such a polite daughter into the world.” Oliver, if he had the courage, would have agreed wholeheartedly, envisioning a passion and intensity in a kiss that rivaled Felix's. However, the reality weighed on Oliver, when he heard your beautiful voice once more. “Oh, stop it. Felix has a way with compliments smoother than butter. But I'll remember your gratitude, Ollie.”

And he did remember to. How you would lean in to give him a peck on the cheek. Not that he was special, considering the fact that you always did that whoever you had meet. Nonetheless, for Oliver it meant something more, something that he too would be able to feel, to feel that same love you have for Felix just as you would for Oliver. 

Being in proximity to Felix and his circle of friends was coveted by many at the school, and an invitation to Saltburn was a sought-after opportunity. Unless someone had established connections within the group, receiving an invitation was usually contingent on existing friendships. Such was the anticipation for Oliver, who found himself in this situation when Felix enthusiastically proposed the idea of inviting him. It wasn't merely an act of gratitude; rather, it stemmed from Oliver's generosity in lending his bike to a stranger, who had now become a valued friend to him. 

Upon your arrival, Oliver caught sight of you standing alone. From the outset, what captivated him was your independence; you didn't always rely on Felix's wealth, and you had a sense of self that wasn’t easily spoiled. “Ollie!” You exclaimed, swiftly kicking off your overly tight heels and dashing towards him. You cupped his face and planted quick pecks all over, leaving him delighted by the touch of your moisturized lips on his cheek. But quickly caught up by someone’s chuckle echoing in a distance. “Jesus, Y/N. You're going to suffocate the poor thing.” Remarked Venetia, welcoming the playful scene with a teasing tone. She observed Oliver's reaction to your enthusiastic greeting, as a way to make the new comer even more relentless of his own. As soon as you released from him, you excused yourself from the exuberance and headed towards the Catton's mansion. “She's a firecracker, this one. Quite surprising that she's into nerds. I wonder what Felix will think.” She mused with a smirk.

Felix's potential thoughts were the constant contemplation in Oliver's mind during the initial days of his stay at the Catton residence. Beyond that, he marveled at how effortlessly open and welcoming you were, despite having only briefly connected during your time in school. While he appreciated the sound of your voice and the way you interacted with him and Felix, it was observing you in quiet moments that truly captivated Oliver. This fascination grew into an unexpected and almost unbelievable obsession, especially considering his initial attraction to Felix. The idea of being paired with anyone else was inconceivable, yet, over time and thanks to Venetia's indiscretions, Oliver discovered that you and Felix were in an open relationship, a decision made to explore new dynamics. You had said. What Oliver didn't know, among the many selected for this unconventional pairing, was that he would be the chosen one.

“You think this is a good idea?” You questioned one morning, adorned in your favorite gown, a cup of coffee in hand, awaiting breakfast as a drowsy Oliver entered the room. “Don't worry.” Felix reassured, leaning in close with his lips almost grazing the crook of your neck. His fingers traced a playful path around your waist, eliciting a chuckle from you at his teasing. "Remember when you said you wanted to fuck a nerd this year? Well, he's all yours." Felix declared confidently, causing a subtle blush to tint your cheeks. “But also yours too, don't forget.” You reminded him. As much as Felix hesitated to acknowledge his feelings, he too harbored an attraction to Oliver. The catch, however, was Felix's love for control. Witnessing you with Oliver was, in fact, more thrilling for him than you might have anticipated. 

Upon Oliver's entrance, a palpable tension filled the room as he observed Felix already standing close to you, a subtle fear gripping him that his presence might disrupt the connection you shared. Foolish man you are. Oliver would mutter to himself whenever he glimpsed the slightest hints of Felix's protective or controlling demeanor, not just towards you but anyone. Dismissing the notion, he decided to join both of you for breakfast, putting on a smile as he noticed the exclusive trio occupying the mansion today. “Where is everyone?” Oliver was the first to inquire, scanning the surroundings, even the garden, to find no one but the three of you. The idea began to dawn on you that this could be the perfect setting for something a bit more adventurous, something spicy involving all three. Innocently shrugging, you played along, and Felix couldn't help but laugh at your little game. “Haven't seen them, probably still in their beds, completely oblivious from last night's revelry. Wouldn't be surprised. What a shame to miss a beautiful breakfast with such lovely companions.”

What a shame, indeed, thought Oliver, his gaze penetrating yours as he found himself momentarily lost, only to be brought back by the server serving him a cup of coffee. He awkwardly thanked the server, prompting laughter from both Felix and you at his clumsiness. “You know,” Felix began, his confidence evident, especially when it came to matters of relationships and involving others. “Y/N and I have been... intrigued by you, you know? Perhaps attracted to how quickly you became part of our group. But a little bird told me that she's really drawn to you. Maybe if she had the courage to tell you instead of resorting to these daunting tasks.” Felix said casually, causing you to gasp in response to his unexpected comment. Despite your initial shock, you quickly realized he meant no harm or shame. In fact, Felix wanted Oliver to express his feelings – emotions that could harmonize with yours and eventually be shared behind closed doors. 

"Do I happen to know this little bird?" Oliver quipped, his gaze shifting between the two of you with a hint of surprise. Even though he already knew who Felix was referring to, Oliver decided to play along, much to Felix's delight, as he too wanted to please his friend. Felix nodded in acknowledgment. “Certainly, and if I may say so myself, she has a penchant for the nerdy type. However, she seems to be enjoying this new side of him much more recently.” Felix admitted openly, his arm remaining securely around your waist. He was well aware of the complexities of a polyamorous relationship, but if it meant your happiness and the joy of seeing you smile, it was all he could do. Plus, it certainly added to Oliver's amusement in seeing a different facet of Felix.

"Keep it discreet." You whispered to Felix, who, in response, leaned in so uncomfortably close that your words seemed almost ignored. This added an enticing and thrilling dynamic to your relationship. At that precise moment, Felix rose from his chair and planted a tender kiss on your forehead. “Behave now. For me– and for Ollie.” He advised, leaving you feeling utterly defenseless in the hands of someone who had evolved into an obsession similar to the initial intensity when you both first met. Your pout, intended as a defense mechanism, only seemed to amuse Felix, prompting him to gently cup your face. He teasingly bit at your lower lip, evoking a soft whine before he kissed you. “If anything happens, call me, okay? I won't be far away.” He assured you with a softer and more passionate tone, shifting his gaze from yours to acknowledge Oliver with a nod. Ultimately, Felix's interactions with Venetia were not entirely unfamiliar to Oliver, especially when it meant being alone with the most captivating woman in all of Saltbun. 

Oliver had carefully chosen his outfit for the occasion, opting for a stylish blue t-shirt that complemented his complexion. In an attempt to break the ice between you two, you remarked it so lively starting with the missing glasses. “I see someone ditched their glasses.”�� Noting his uneasy glances from side to side, as if hiding something. However, upon hearing your voice, his gaze softened, and he offered a gentle smile, reminiscent of the one he gave Felix when they first met. “Glasses are so last season anyway. Prefer the contact lenses.” He casually remarked, initially giving the impression of a more reserved demeanor than you had originally perceived. This perception lingered, especially during moments when it was just the two of you alone. However, recent events, including spending a night at Farleigh's room and Oliver recounting what he had witnessed, left you uncertain about whom to trust. Consequently, you rose from your chair and approached him. His adorable gasp was the only sound as he watched your sudden movement. “What... are you doing?” he asked, stuttering mid-sentence. 

“Nothing…” You casually said to him although it was quite the obvious as you leaned to sat on his lap. His fingers trying his best to mimic Felix’s as you hushed him not to do so but to do it like how he did it to Venetia. Which at first surprised him because he began to think that you knew about it too– but you had said nothing to him since that event. After all– it was a game that Felix and you wanted. Turned out however that it was both Felix and Oliver who wanted you. To be their puppets as the masters take charge to their own demise, sadistic pleasure. Although contracting themselves perfectly, it was one of the many reasons why you had though Oliver to be fascinated in the first place. “Just admiring you.” Was what you said to him next, before continuing as you gently touched the collar of his shirt. 

“Make me love like you never have before—a love you've been craving since you arrived here. I know your little game, Ollie. We all do.” You whispered, leaning even closer until your lips grazed his, your hand cupping the side of his jawline. In that moment, you took charge, reversing the dynamics of control. However, the atmosphere shifted abruptly when your final confession made Oliver tense. His muscles stiffened, and his fingers gripped your waist, guiding you onto the table, rendering your body completely at his mercy. Gently crawling on top of you, a cocktail of excitement, lust, and a desire to submit to him filled the air. “Then..” He said softly, lifting your lacy gown casually and placing a few kisses before continuing. “I'll make sure you don't have to remember it, Princess. I’ll fuck you until your screams for more are heard at an even distance.” His eyes barely left you as your head leaned back, moans escaping your lips. However, before you could fully respond, Oliver's gaze intensified with each kiss, and he uttered. “I want you to say my name, just like you do for Felix's. Say that you are mine and mine alone.”

“Yes, I'll do anything you ask.” You affirmed. Your eyes pleaded, craving to be cherished and made to feel like a loved woman once more. It wasn't that Felix wasn't providing that, but the allure of someone unknown, a complete stranger, added an extra layer of excitement. “Make love to me as if you've never experienced anyone before. Have me begging for you until the break of dawn. I want your marks all over me, Ollie.” You confessed. With those words, Oliver eagerly removed his shirt, hunger evident in his desire to kiss every inch of your skin. Starting from your inner thighs, you couldn't help but release a soft giggle as you felt his tongue slowly traveling down.

However, there was one crucial detail both of you remained oblivious to – Felix had meticulously orchestrated this entire scenario, intending it to unfold as an exclusive spectacle for himself. His curiosity lay in observing Oliver's actions when left alone with all of you. Yet, the setup lacked a crucial element: Felix himself. Mere miles away, Felix sensed a tightening sensation in his groin beneath his pants. His fingers delicately caressed the sensation, attempting not to draw attention to himself. Seizing the opportune moment, he approached quietly as your back remained turned, your arms securely wrapped around Oliver's neck. As he neared, Felix gently untangled your shoulders, skillfully removing every piece of clothing he could manage before eliciting a surprised gasp from you. “Fe—”But Oliver's lips silenced you, a deliberate move to divert attention. Even though Oliver feigned ignorance of Felix's game, he too realized it was just a matter of finally being alone together – a scenario briefly alluded to by Felix before arriving in Saltburn. “Shh, Princess. Remember, he’s all yours.” Had Felix said upon continuing to admire your fully undressed body. 

In that moment, you realized you belonged entirely to both Oliver and Felix. They came as a combined package, a connection deeper and more intricate than anyone in Saltburn could fathom. Following the encounter at the pool, the three of you continued these clandestine rendezvous. Sometimes it was Oliver gazing into the distance, and other times, it was Felix. Yet, a constant remained – whenever you were out, they were with you. Over time, Oliver acknowledged, opening up to himself, that he truly felt at home, especially when you nestled yourself in a lacy gown between both of them, indulging in endless kisses until sleep embraced you all. This routine became a comforting ritual, repeated again and again.

[chyanxrene]

His obsession

♡ Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Y/N

♡ Summary: Draco has an Obsession with Y/N who has up until this time not given him the time of day, until she finally caves in at a Slytherin house party.

♡ Warning(s): Pure smut, hair pulling, choking, degradation if you squint

It was no secret Draco Malfoy was in love with Y/N Y/L/N, he would drool over her as soon as he laid his eyes on her. She was all he could think about. However the same couldn't be said for Y/N, despite Draco's numerous attempts to get the Slytherin princess to fall in love with him, nothing worked.

In Y/N's mind, he was just another player, who only wanted one thing from her. Why would she give him the time of day when she's witnessed him with a new girl everyday? Sure she found him attractive, but then again who didn't.

Draco never gave up, he'd send her flowers, chocolates he even wrote hand written notes to the young witch, some asking about her day others begging for a chance. But she didn't budge, she'd just shake her head, laugh or consume the edible gifts he gave her with her friends.

His friends told him to get over it, it was becoming comical the amount of times he had been rejected, but he didn't care. Her boldness, cunningness, sense of humour was everything he wanted in a woman. Draco Malfoy liked a chase and he would not give up without a fight.

Y/N rolled her eyes when she sighted the ice blonde strolling down the stairs with an unknown Ravenclaw witch. This was the second girl she had seen this week and it was only Tuesday. She never understood why he continued to have relations with all these other girls when he desperately tried to pursue her. Perhaps it was his way of making her jealous, but it only made her resent him more.

The poor Ravenclaw witch left, batting her eyelashes at Draco. Everyone knew he would never see her again, but she didn't, which made Y/N feel sorry for her.

Y/N smelt him before she saw him.

"You coming to the party tonight darling?"Draco sat down next to Y/N, interrupting her thoughts.

She closed her book "are you going to be there?" She asked Draco who was flickering his gaze from her lips to her eyes. He licked his bottom lip and nodded eagerly.

"Then no."

Y/N stood up and walked out of the common room. Draco was left utterly confused, did she not like the roses he had left her?

"Come on Malfoy, give it up, she not interested" Blaise Zabini joined his friend in the seating area.

"I don't get it, why can't she give me a chance?" Malfoy huffed, confused at his latest rejection.

Blaise let out a loud laugh, holding his stomach  as he watched Draco.

"What?"

"You seriously don't know?"

Blaise then dropped his face realising his best friend really didn't understand what he was doing so wrong.

"Malfoy, you fuck a different girl every other day, Y/N sees all of it, why the hell would she want to date someone like that" he laughed.

Draco's face went into a scowl, his tactics clearly weren't working.

"I thought that would've made her jealous."

"Jealous? Crabbe has more of a chance dating her than you" Blaise cackled.

Draco stood up, stomping to his room. There was no feelings involved with the other girls, just a quick fuck, he would only think of Y/N whilst he done it anyway. But she didn't know that, so he would try again, tonight.

Y/N had left the common room only to be shoved into a wall by Hufflepuff who was crying her eyes out, running down the hall. At first she was angry but once she realised the witch from the year below was distressed she couldn't help but feel bad.

"What's wrong?" Y/N asked, rubbing the witches back.

The poor girl couldn't speak, she was stuttering all over the place, but one name made Y/N's hairs stand up Draco.

"W-we had sex and now he's with someone else."

Y/N consoled the younger witch and promised her she would deal with it.

Draco was wide eyed when he saw Y/N storm into his room. Red with anger, she threw her books onto his bed. Her hand was raised, ready to add some colour onto the pale boys skin, but she was too slow, he caught her wrist mid air and pushed her hand to her chest. Backing her against the wall.

"I've dreamed of moments like this, however in them you weren't trying to hit me" Draco drawled, his nose ran through Y/N's hair, inhaling the scent he loved so bad.

"You're a bastard" Y/N gritted, shoving Draco off her. "Don't fucking touch me!"

Draco's eyebrows furrowed "what's the problem darling?" He asked the girl he admired the most.

"You need to stop messing with these girls Draco, they're all distraught after being with you" Y/N growled.

Draco let out a small laugh.

"And you don't think I am? The girl I want the most can't even give me the time of day" he shouted back.

Y/N's mouth closed abruptly, she would not give in to him. "There's a reason for that, you're just a lad, someone who just wants to get there dick wet!"

Draco's frown turned into a smirk "I've only ever wanted you to wet my cock."

Y/N's breath hitched in her throat. Numerous conversations with Draco and he'd never used such vulgar words towards her.

Draco noticed this and a light bulb turned on in his head, maybe this could be his new approach, he was a master at dirty talk. He could easily make a girl cum by just his words alone — which he has done before.

He was slightly surprised that this is what Y/N liked, this only made him want her more, if that was even possible.

"You like that don't you?" Draco purred.

He stepped towards her again, a light pink shade painted on her cheeks.

"Stop Draco."

Y/N's hand went to reach the door knob behind her but Draco's cold hands stopped her.

His warm breath on her ear, he'd never had her in this position before "do you like when I talk to you like that?" He whispered.

A small whimper came from her throat.

"You filthy girl."

"Fuck, I could do so many things to you" Draco's knee pushed in between her legs, spreading them apart.

Y/N's breathing was heavy, she felt herself becoming wet, her underwear sticking to her pussy. She had to stay strong, she would not give him the satisfaction.

"I'd make you cum so hard, everyday" Draco breathed. "Fuck, I'd ruin you for every other man, stretch you so wide that you would be accustomed to my cock only" he growled.

"Shit."

She felt Draco's thigh coming in direct contact with her clothed clit.

"Let me make you mine Y/N, I want nothing more than to pleasure you and make you happy" Draco left a small kiss on Y/N's ear.

A knock came from behind them, bringing Y/N back to reality, she pushed him off her and swung the door open. Outside was another girl, she looked between them both, Y/N scoffed and walked out of his room. Draco was left in awe and a boner, which the unknown girl would be made to satisfy.

Later that night the party had come around Y/N wore her tight fitted forest green mini dress. It had a low back and a small slit on the upper thigh, she wore some black strappy heels to match with her outfit.

Whistles and cat calls were made as she walked into her houses party.

Y/N joined her fellow Slytherins, she was always down for a good time. Drinking, dancing and having fun in general.

She was known to be quite popular, she's what boys wanted and what girls wanted to be. That's one of many reasons why Draco was so infatuated with her.

She hadn't seen the Slytherin Prince yet, but Y/N knew he would be around. Probably with a different girl linked onto his arm.

Y/N found herself thinking about this afternoons conversation with him, she wanted more, but in the same breath she despised his actions.

She shook her head, maybe she was more than attracted to him but she didn't want to admit it. There was times when she would wonder how good he was in bed for girls to be crying and swooning over him. Maybe he was all talk, but she made a promise that she would never find out, even though a part of her wanted to.

Y/N had a few drinks, feeling herself loosen up and wanting to dance, she made her way to the centre of the common room. She swayed her hips to the beat, muggle music was playing which she enjoyed a lot. She closed her eyes feeling the sensual words of the song.

Draco had spotted her from when she first stepped into the party. He couldn't take his eyes off her, even when he had a red head witch attached to his arm. He wanted nothing more than to drag Y/N away and keep her locked in his room so no one else could see her provocative dance moves.

So he made his move, he left the red head alone and slithered through the crowds of wizards.

Finding his prize, he slipped behind her, snaking his long slender fingers around his waist and settling them. His hips moved in time with Y/N's, she knew it was him and purposely pushed her ass onto his groin, causing Draco to let out a quiet groan.

Her arms went behind her wrapped around his neck, her long nails scratching the back of his neck. He had to lean down as she was shorter than him, but he didn't mind, he was closer to her ear and that's exactly what she wanted. Maybe it was the alcohol but she wanted him to say filthy words to her, like before.

"If you were mine we wouldn't even be here right now" he growled, kissing her ear lobe.

"Why's that?" Y/N whispered, Draco's hands dug into her waist, pulling her closer to him.

"Because, I would be fucking you senseless, in this pathetic excuse of a dress."

Y/N moaned at his words, imagining his large hands running all over her body. Attacking her pussy with his tongue, she craved it. She was beginning to realise that she wanted Draco Malfoy, she would never tell him that though.

The music continued and so did their dancing.

"Perhaps if you we're lucky I would let you join the party again, only when my cum was inside you"

"Draco" she whimpered, one of his hands made its way up towards her neck, holding it with a light grip.

"All those other boys that eye fuck you would know you're mine, they'd see my cum running down your thighs, they'd see the wobble in your walk, your swollen lips and I would be there so they knew who you belonged to."

Y/N was wet, more than wet, she felt her arousal leaking onto her thighs. Her underwear was uncomfortable as it was soaked.

"Draco move your hand" she whispered. She felt his hand sitting in the middle of her ass, making it impossible to concentrate and dance.

"That's not my hand darling."

That was it for Y/N she needed to get away from him. "I'm going to use the bathroom" she rushed, hurrying away from him and finding the nearest bathroom.

She took a deep breaths, her nipples were erected, face was red. She'd never been this turned on before.

She stared at herself in the mirror, an awful ache down below. She needed some release, she ran into the bathroom stall, slamming it and locking it behind her. Her thighs began rubbing together but it didn't work.

Y/N growled in frustration and walked out of the bathroom stall. She was faced with Draco, he had lust in his eyes, his breathing was laboured. He leaned against the door, she watched as his hand went to the lock and turned it.

"Draco" Y/N said which came out almost inaudible.

He closed the gap between them, his erection was apparent, creating a tent in his trousers.

"Tell me to stop."

Y/N gulped, feeling his hands settle on either side of her face, cupping it gently, his darkened eyes remained on her lips.

"Tell me to stop Y/N."

She couldn't think, she was too turned on, she wanted satisfaction so badly. She wanted Draco to be the one to do it. His mouth inched further towards her own, she felt his breath on her lips.

"I won't be able to control myself if you don't ask me to stop right now" he mumbled, holding her face tighter.

Y/N had finally caved, she wanted him.

"Don't stop."

Draco's mouth instantly dove onto Y/N's. It was a desperate kiss, tongues were in and out of the others mouths. Teeth were clashing against one another's, Draco groaned at the taste of her mouth. He loved it, he knew no one else would compare to her.

Draco backed Y/N harshly against the sink, her lower back bending slightly, a small hiss came from her mouth at the force of his push. His hands were no longer on her face, they were everywhere. Y/N couldn't keep up, one moment they were on her thighs, then her waist, they brushed against her nipples.

Their mouths were still connected, they couldn't get enough of each other. Draco kicked her feet apart, one hand holding her neck, the other drew patterns on her inner thighs.

Y/N became more desperate for him, a small thrust from her hips made Draco laugh.

"Patience darling, I want this as bad as you do, but I want you to be ready for when I give you my cock, I don't want to hurt you."

His fingers brushed her clothed cunt, the friction between the lace and her clit was sending Y/N over the edge. "Fuck you're so wet, tell me it's because of me" Draco said hoarsely, it almost came out like a beg.

"Yes Draco."

Draco let out a strangled groan, pushing her underwear to the side so he could come into direct contact with her sensitive clit. He rubbed circles around it, causing Y/N to moan his name.

"Fuck, I can't believe I've finally got you like this" he moaned, feeling the wetness on his fingers. Y/N was withering beneath him, rubbing herself against his fingers, but Draco was taking his time.

A part of him wanted to savour this moment as he didn't know if this could happen again.

His middle finger entered Y/N with ease, her wetness surrounding his digit. Draco's hand fell from her throat onto the edge of the countertop, gripping it, turning his knuckles pale. He was enjoying this just as much as Y/N.

Draco's finger curved, stroking her rippled wall. The pad of his thumb still pleasuring her clit, Y/N was close, she wanted to cum so badly. He slipped in another finger, Y/N instantly squeezed them, nearing closer to her orgasm.

"You're so fucking tight, I can't wait to feel you around my cock."

Draco's fingers pumped in and out of her quickly, Y/N was panting against his neck, she sucked and bit on his pale flesh. Her mark was now on his skin, Draco saw this in the mirror and oh he could've came right then and there.

"Oh God, Draco" Y/N cried into his shoulder, he had added another finger, stretching her out and preparing her for his cock. "Cum, fuck I want to taste you so bad, cum Y/N."

That was it for Y/N, her pussy tightened around his three fingers, his thumb continued to rub her clit. She came moaning his name "that's it" Draco cooed in her ear.

He pulled his soaked fingers out, watching them with hooded eyelids. Y/N watched him with a blush on her cheeks as he dipped each finger into his mouth, sucking and moaning at the taste.

"Better than I ever imagined."

But Draco wasn't finished, he wanted to be inside her, he wanted her to cum around his cock the same way she did with his fingers. He pulled her into a passionate kiss, not an eager one like before.

Y/N was spun around, her back against his chest, she was pushed forward by his large hands. Y/N bit her lip as she watched Draco eye her backside which was now exposed to him. He was so hot, she thought to herself.

Draco looked at her through the mirror, his trademark smirk now on his face. His hand raised and fell hard on her ass, causing her to jolt forward "that's for calling me a bastard."

He slapped her again.

"That's for ignoring my gifts."

And again.

"That's for rejecting me."

Y/N was a moaning mess, she was wetter than before. Draco saw this as he watched her exposed pussy "now look at you" he laughed.

"Bending over for me, waiting for me to fuck you."

"Fuck you Draco" Y/N spat, this was why she didn't want to give into him because he was a smug prick. Y/N went to get up, Draco gripped the back of her hair, pushing his erection between her ass cheeks. She let out a small sob.

"Exactly."

Y/N was pushed forward again, his hand remained on her lower back, holding her in place. "Keep your eyes on me darling."

Y/N felt Draco snap her underwear, he unbuttoned his trousers pushing them down with his boxers. Y/N's eyes went wide, it all made sense now, why the girls were always crying, itching to have sex with him.

It all made sense.

He was big, not big like 'oh that might satisfy you'. No, he was big big, Y/N couldn't believe it, she wondered how the hell he was going to fit that inside her. She was definitely not walking straight after this, he must've hid it well because she never expected him to be that large.

"This is yours, after this" he said whilst rubbing his tip up and down Y/N's entrance. "It belongs to you and so will I."

Draco's head was thrown back as he held onto Y/N's hip tightly. His other hand was in her hair, he pushed his tip inside her, groans came out of them both simultaneously. He pulled out and pushed into her again, this time making her take more of his dick.

It was never ending for Y/N, he just kept going, inch by inch he entered her. Stretching her so wide and reaching close to her cervix. Draco's face was red, his breathing was heavy.

"I- fuck, I can't, shit" Draco couldn't form a proper sentence, he was fully inside her, his cock was hugged so tight by her pussy he knew he was going to cum within minutes.

Draco pulled out halfway and pushed into her again, he repeated this action a few times, he saw through the mirror that Y/N's eyes were screwed shut.

"Shit, are you okay? I can stop, fuck, do you want me to stop? Is it hurti-" Draco was cut off by Y/N opening her eyes.

"Fuck me Draco."

His eyes widened, he nodded quickly, both hands were now gripping onto her hips, digging into her. He thrusted hard, a loud scream came from Y/N's mouth. Draco stalled but Y/N told him to keep going.

He picked up his pace, pulling 3/4 of the way out and slamming back into her. He was fucking her hard, with determination in his eyes. He couldn't believe this was happening, especially after their conversation this morning. Draco was on cloud nine.

"Oh fuck Draco."

"I know" he growled, he pulled her hips back at the same time to meet his aggressive thrusts. The sounds of their skin slapping together echoed throughout the bathroom, partnered with distance background music. The sound to Y/N was so erotic.

She was coming close to her second orgasm, Draco must've felt her clench around him as he let out a growl and started to rub her clit.

Y/N had never had sex like this before, she loved every bit of it. Draco's face whilst he was fucking her turned her on even more. He watched his cock slip out of her and then bit his lip when he pushed back into her. He was going to cum.

Draco pinched her clit, which was it for Y/N. She was screaming his name, her thighs shaking, her vision became blurred.

"Fuck, tell everyone who's making you cum like that" he grunted, his thrusts were now short and deep.

Y/N cried out as Draco continued to fuck her in order to chase his own orgasm. "Tell them who you belong to, who you always belonged to."

"You Draco, it's you."

That sent Draco over the edge, his thrusts were sloppy as he found himself cumming. He left bruises on Y/N's hips from his fingers.

Y/N moaned feeling his cum spill inside her, rope after rope of his warm, thick cum it was so much. Draco had never came like this before, he found himself not knowing when it would end.

Y/N was filled up with it, he pulled out, two more spurts landing on her ass cheeks and then his dick went soft again. He let out a string of curse words, before he ran to grab tissue.

He wiped Y/N's red ass, removing his cum and then wiped himself. Y/N was still catching her breath as she watched as Draco pulled his boxers up, followed by his trousers.

"Are you okay?" He asked her with concerned eyes. Y/N couldn't speak, she just stared at him, her mouth agape. She watched him as if she was star struck.

"Say something."

Draco looked around nervously, slightly feeling uncomfortable as if he'd done something wrong. Y/N cleared her throat and stood up as straight as she could. Her pussy was hurting, her ass was sore, she could feel his cum sliding down her inner thighs.

"Y/N, fuck, if I've done something wrong just tell me."

Y/N shushed him with her finger, she pulled him towards her by his shirt. Draco was confused, even more when she pulled him into a sweet kiss. He returned the kiss, melting into it, Y/N pulled away and scanned his features.

He was blushing "do you" he trailed, looking down at her inner thighs "should I get a tissue for that?"

"Leave it, I want all the boys that eye fuck me to know I'm yours."

[rocorambles]

Set My Heart Ablaze

Pairing: Matsukawa x Reader

Genre/Warnings: NSFW, Non-Con/Dub-Con, Creepy Matsukawa, Obsessive Behavior, Public Train Sex

Prompt: Chikan/Trains/Public Sex

Summary: Neither of you can deny the mutual spark of interest between the two of you, but Matsukawa takes the matter of turning that spark into a fire into his own hands. Only time will tell if that fire will provide you warmth and comfort or burn you alive.

A/N: This is my submission for the HQHQ NSFW Collab! Masterlist can be found here. Be sure to check everyone’s content once the masterlist goes live tomorrow night~

The train doors open and Matsukawa briefly glances up, smiling to himself as you step onboard, looking left and right for an open spot despite how you always end up in the same corner of the moving vehicle. He doesn’t know anything about you, not even your name. Yet he finds himself drawn to the normalcy you bring, the comfort of knowing you’re a clockwork fixture of his everyday life.

It hadn’t always been like this.

Matsukawa is just a man at the end of the day and he doesn’t deny that he took note of you long before you became so ingrained in his life. But it had been no more than a man observing an attractive woman and he doesn’t give you another passing thought as he returns to gazing out the train windows.

But working with death on a daily basis makes you look at life differently.

He prides himself on being a practical and level-headed man and despite the heavy nature of his profession, he never thought he’d get too bogged down by the environment, by the grimness of his business. Sure, maybe someone like Oikawa would freak out within hours, if not minutes, of being in a funeral home surrounded by corpses and coffins. But he’s not Oikawa (thank God for that). It’s just a job to help keep a roof over his head and food on the table.

But the longer he’s surrounded by caskets, the more grieving and sobbing families and friends he has to comfort yet professionally guide through catalogs and brochures and price tags, he can slowly but surely feel the weight of his daily work resting heavy on his shoulders, digging deeper into him with every corpse and tragic story he reluctantly becomes privy to. Matsukawa finds a new appreciation for life, for every tiny and minute detail, and suddenly you aren’t just another stranger who happens to share his train route.

You’re a reminder that he’s still alive, that despite the curveballs life throws at some, he’s still blessed to enjoy the routine and monotony of it. Life looks different, clearer, as he begins to really pay attention, appreciating every moment he has.

Maybe he’s paying too much attention. He doesn’t know when he begins to focus so intently on you, shocking himself with the realization that he’s observed you so closely when he nonchalantly notices that you’re using a different tote bag than your usual one. When did Matsukawa Issei become someone who notices the details of a woman’s outfit and accessories?

He knows it’s not right, knows even Hanamaki would crinkle his nose in distaste if he found out Matsukawa was creepily studying a random unknown female on a daily basis. But he can’t help himself, his realization only seeming to make him unconsciously focus on you even more. He notices what hand you use to hold your phone. He memorizes every expression you make as your mind drifts off, lulled by the machinery of the train.

But looking from afar only satisfies him for so long and he finds himself creeping closer to you, adjusting where he sits to be closer to your preferred corner of the train. He always tells himself just a little closer, but it’s never enough. And although he’s now standing right beside you, close enough to see every eyelash, every pore of your skin, it’s still not enough. He needs to hear your voice, feel your body against his, know everything about you inside and out.

He understands the irony of the situation he’s found himself in, reminiscing on how Hanamaki and him had gagged at how disgusting men could be as they watched older businessmen grope and grab at poor unwilling female passengers on their way to and from school. He knows how wrong it is, how like an uninspired porno this is, but when the train conveniently rattles, he jostles his body into yours, “accidentally” bumping into you.

Acting isn’t Matsukawa’s forte, but he thinks he damn well deserves an award for the performance he’s putting on as he profusely apologizes to you, hiding the groan of satisfaction he feels from the brief contact he’d had with you, from the way your attention is solely focused on him, from the way your voice seeps into his ears like the loveliest melody he’s ever heard. He doesn’t even know what he’s saying, meaningless small and polite talk leaving his lips as his mind focuses on what’s more important, mentally recording every syllable and movement you make as you continue conversing with him. But whatever words are spilling out of him seem to be working and something hungry and possessive stirs in him when your face lights up as you board the train the next day, making a beeline towards where he stands as you cheerfully greet him.

Maybe it’s foolish of you to so easily trust and warm up to a complete stranger. But he’s tall, attractive, and interesting, which is more than you can say for most of the men you’ve met and your friends and family are always telling you to put yourself out there more. Is there really much of a difference between finding a random stranger on the countless dating apps you’ve installed versus connecting with one in person? You’d even argue that there’s something whimsically romantic about how the two of you met, even though you don’t know for sure if this is really going to lead to anything. But at the very least, your daily commute becomes more exciting.

You’re everything and more compared to what Matsukawa had imagined and if he thought he was infatuated with you before, he’s completely and utterly obsessed with you now. You’re all he can think of, all he can see in his mind’s eye, even hours after you’ve parted ways on your morning commute, even as he lays in bed in the middle of the night. And as his hand slips underneath the hem of his boxers, wrapping around his aching cock to his imaginations of what you’d look like writhing underneath him, how you’d sound moaning his name, he knows he needs to have you.

After all, as pretty as a meal can be, it’s ultimate purpose is to be devoured.

You giggle when the train shakes and you feel a long toned body shift into yours, squishing you against the wall you’re leaning against, sighing in bliss at how right, how good it feels to be in Matsukawa’s embrace even if it is just for a fleeting moment, a little accident all too common on jam packed trains. But your face heats when you continue feeling his warmth, when his body seems to press even further into you until you can feel the expanse of his body against yours, not even an inch of space left between you.

“Matsukawa-”

Your words are caught off by a gasp as Matsukawa buries his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent, lips and tongue mouthing and licking the sensitive skin there. You’re confused, scared, and aroused, hands reaching up to clutch at the lapels of Matsukawa’s suit, unsure whether to hold him tight to you or push him away. And your humiliation only increases when a nearby elderly couple scowls at the two of you in disdain, clearly unamused by the scandalous gestures of what they believe to be a young couple in love.

Yet you can’t help how your heart beats faster, wondering if this is proof of Matsukawa’s attraction to you, wondering if your hidden feelings for him are returned. But this isn’t the time or place for that conversation and you fervently whisper in his ear, begging him to stop, telling him people are watching.

“Is that the only reason you want me to stop? Because people are watching?”

You grow flustered at the implied meaning of his words, shame filling you at how much you’re enjoying this, hating how your neck arches for more attention as he straightens up once more, his body hiding yours from view as he stands in front of you, still pinning you to the wall.

“Better be as still and quiet as you can, sweetheart.”

You don’t have time to register his words before your mouth opens in a pathetic whine as a calloused hand trails under the hem of your shirt, sliding across the stretch of your stomach, mapping your torso before finally shoving your bra above the swell of your breasts, kneading one of your mounds, tweaking and swirling around your hardening nipple. It feels so good and you almost succumb right then and there, lost in the predatory lustful gaze he pins you with.

But when the train makes its next stop, the conductor’s voice jars you from your trance and you clutch at Matsukawa’s forearm, silently pleading for him to stop with desperate eyes despite the way you quietly mewl when he just quirks an eyebrow and pinches your nipple in retaliation.

“We can’t- We shouldn’t-”

Your hand trembles, jaw going slack when he slides one thigh between your legs, digging his hard muscles into that already dripping hole only protected by the fabric of your pants.

“You’re not very convincing. How about we play a game? If you can tell me you don’t want this without moaning like a bitch in heat, I’ll stop.”

There’s no room for disagreement as he abruptly begins grinding his thigh into your aching cunt, flexing and relaxing his muscle in a pattern and rhythm you can’t keep up with. It takes every last bit of will power in you to not wantonly ride his leg and hump against him like the lewd slut he had just accused you of being.

“I don’t want-”

You cry out in agonized pleasure as his fingers still hovering near your breasts begin to roll your nipples between calloused tips, his thigh never losing its momentum. And under the dual points of attack, your resistance crumbles. Matsukawa’s eyes widen in awe as you bounce and roll your hips against his leg, hiding your face in his chest as you try to muffle the lewd sounds slipping past your lips in the fabric of his jacket.

You’re gorgeous like this, a needy, lustful mess. But as much as he loves to see you suffer so beautifully, there’s only so much time before your stop and he decides to have mercy on you, to reward you for being so honest, so good for him. Your face snaps up to stare at him with pupils blown wide as his hand reaches underneath the waistband of your pants and panties. He groans when his fingers are instantly soaked in your arousal, your panties sticky with your fluids and his digits slip inside of your tight wet heat with no resistance at all.

He wants nothing more than to push the pesky fabric out of the way and lay you bare for his viewing pleasure, to have easy access to thrust in and out of you. But he’ll save that for another day. Instead his fingers slip out of you, tips circling your swollen clit, rubbing your sensitive bundle of nerves as you resume humping his leg, body trembling, drool beginning to trickle from your lips as you frantically chase your end. And as the train stops once more, passengers trickling in and out, you silently scream, body convulsing as he brings you over the edge, pleasure washing over you and leaving you exhausted as you shiver and slump in his arms that are quick to embrace you and hold you steady as the train begins to move again.

You submissively let his fingers coated in your essence enter your mouth, obediently sucking and licking him clean, finding strange comfort in the action as you remain rested against him. But you keen in confusion, cheeks still hollowed as you mindlessly continue sucking while he guides one of your hands to the bulge in his pants.

But although Matsukawa is a man of few words, his desire is clear despite the silence and your face heats in embarrassment as he unbuttons his trousers, bringing your hand to the waistband of his boxers, dark eyes expectantly staring down at you. You shouldn’t. You really shouldn’t. Not when you can literally hear the other passengers surrounding the two of you, only Matsukawa’s tall frame hiding your illicit activity. But your body has a mind of its own and you greedily slip under the fabric barrier, moaning around his fingers at how large, hot, and heavy he is in your hands.

You hate how badly you want to see it, to feel it inside you, splitting you apart. Your pussy clenches, leaking in interest once again despite having just found blissful release mere minutes ago as your hands curiously trail up and down the shaft, trying to memorize how every bit of it feels against your skin, trying to visualize what it looks like. But you whimper as Matsukawa finally pulls his fingers free from your mouth, squeezing your jaw and giving you a warning look.

“Don’t tease me, doll.”

Your fingers wrap around the length and it’s your turn to stare up at Matsukawa with eyes full of hunger and awe as you watch his Adam’s apple swallow, as you feel a pleased groan reverberate in his chest with every stroke of your hand. Up and down. Up and down. Your hands are slick with pre-cum and you know it’s just your imagination, but you swear you can hear the lewd wet sounds of his sticky essence coating his shaft with every movement of your palm against the velvety skin. You’re so mesmerized, so lost in the experience that you startle when something hot and thick spurts onto your hand, mixing with his pre-cum, making an even bigger mess of his boxers and you.

You stare stunned at the hand you pull out from between his legs, gazing at the white and transparent fluids that coat your flesh. But before you can even think about wiping it off or scavenging around for a spare napkin or paper in your bag, a large hand grabs your wrist and brings your stained fingers to your mouth. You try to resist him, the spell he had you under broken now that the haze of lust isn’t blinding you. But his grip tightens until you wince and finally relent, stomach churning in disgust and shame as you tentatively lick at the bitter liquid.

He doesn’t release you, not until every last drop is coating the inside of your mouth, his taste heavy in your mouth, seemingly in every crevice of your orifice, your hand completely clean and void of your sinful interaction.

You want to hate him. You want to wipe the smug satisfied look clean off his face. But as you readjust your disheveled clothing, you’re reminded of your own body’s betrayal, your own carnal desire and pleasure, by the uncomfortable mess in between your legs. And all you can do is silently stand there and pretend that nothing has happened as Matsukawa nonchalantly tucks himself in and checks his phone.

There’s an uncomfortable silence as you wait for him to acknowledge what has just happened, only to be disappointed as he doesn’t even spare you another glance, too observed in the glowing screen in his hand. You wonder if this was just a one time thing, if he had been stringing you along all this time for one quick public tryst. And you hate the way that thought makes your chest hurt, hate how much you dislike the idea of never seeing him again, never talking to him again, never feeling and tasting him again.

But as the train pulls into his stop, your eyes widen when his face hovers by your ear, lips grazing your lobe as his voice melts into your soul.

“Wear a dress or skirt tomorrow. No panties or bra.”

He laughs as surprise turns into an endearing scowl that barely hides the apparent relief in your eyes and he just casually waves farewell as you send him on his way with a tirade of angry words about his fucking audacity. But it’s all empty heat and he chuckles at the self-conscious embarrassment written all over your face when he sees you the next morning, a pretty dress fluttering around your knees.

There’s no preamble, no pretense of what’s about to happen and he smirks in appreciation at the unobstructed feeling of skin against skin as he slips his hand under your skirt, not an inch of fabric covering the treasure at the apex of your thighs.

[bumbleklee]

Hi I'm the anon who requested the Childe x zhongli x reader one. I deeply apologize I am so so sorry I should have specified but yes! Childe and zhongli are dating at the beginning, and poly at the end with reader. Only if your comfortable with it though! I'm sorry once again I should have specified more clearly T-T

original ask: Um feel free to ignore This ask but zhongli x Childe x reader where Zhongli and childe are dating and reader has been in love with both of them and thinks their love is unrequited, but they're happy with only giving love and not receiving anything in return. But then one day they meet someone new and start spending more time with them, pulling away from zhongli and childe which leads them to getting angry and confessing + jealous nsfw at the end. Feel free to ignore tho, no pressure. Have a good day and take care :)

hopefully i did you justice lol, i was still a tiny bit confused so i apologize if this isn’t 100% of what you were looking for but i hope you still like it!!! this is a part 1 of 2 and the nsfw work scene is going to be in part 2 (expect that in a couple days) PART 2 HERE

cw: polyamourous relationship, little bit of angst, a little over 3k words, hu tao has a brother in this named jiang

summary: your first crush is zhongli and when it’s evident he doesn’t like you back, you try to turn your feelings to childe. so when childe and zhongli start dating, your heart is shattered. thinking there’s no hope for love, you meet jiang. sounds great - the only issue? zhongli and childe seem to have a problem with this. 

Alongside Zhongli, you were a mortician at the Wangshen Funeral Home. Over the months of working beside him, you had become quite close to him. In fact, Zhongli considered you one of his closest friends in Liyue. After long days at the parlor you would go out to dinner together and despite having to pay most of the time, you were happy to spend time with him.

Your feelings towards Zhongli were growing to be more than platonic but you could never tell him. You were too different from him and while you were sure he appreciated your friendship, you couldn’t imagine him reciprocating your true feelings.

So when you’re introduced to a young man named Childe, you thought this would be your way to weasel out of your one-sided love. Childe was cheeky and sweet to you, nearly winning your heart instantly. He hung around Zhongli often and it became unusual to see either of them alone. Slowly, your crush on Zhongli soon shifted to Childe.

Unlike before, you began to dress nicer to work if you knew Childe was going to be coming along that day. You examined the way Childe interacted with Zhongli versus you and the difference made you hopeful that Childe was feeling something for you. Sometimes he would even stay at the parlor with you if Zhongli needed to run out for a bit.

When Childe asked you to Wanmin for dinner one night, your heart swelled. You had been alone for too long and now a rich, handsome local from Snezhnaya was courting you, right?

You were giddy for the remaining hour of your shift, even telling Hu Tao that you had a date after work. When the time came, Childe waited for you at the entrance and you happily skipped beside him. He made a comment about how you seemed to be in a good mood and you could only chuckle - wasn’t he, too?

“Order whatever you want,” Childe told you once you both were seated at a table. Your eyes glazed over the menu, racing back and forth between too many options. You heard Childe sigh and you looked up briefly to see his fingers fumbling with each other. “You’re probably wondering why I asked you to dinner, huh?”

Beneath the table, your legs twisted anxiously. You hid your excited smile and tilted your head, trying to make a cute facial expression. Was Childe going to ask you to be his partner? Or was it too soon to do that? Despite your age, you hadn’t been on a proper date in ages. Were things different when you were a teenager than when you were an adult?

One of Childe’s hands made its way across the table and you let him take your own. His hand felt incredibly soft and warm and you wanted desperately to interlock your fingers.

“Since you're my closest friend in Liyue, I wanted to tell you this before anyone else,” Childe began. The first part of his sentence made your chest flutter but you decided to pay no mind to it. Perhaps you had just gotten closer to Childe than Zhongli lately. But what Childe said next made your heart drop into the pit of your stomach, “I’m going to ask Zhongli to be my partner.”

“Like, work partner?” You said, your words catching in your throat. You knew exactly what Childe meant. How could you have been so stupid?

Childe let out a hearty laugh, “No, not a work partner. I want to be his boyfriend.”

Your hand fell limp in Childe’s and you swore you stopped breathing in that moment. Not only were you extremely upset, you were suddenly extremely embarrassed. You told Hu Tao this was a date! You face grew red and you averted your eyes to your lap. But it all made sense. Childe wasn’t talking to you in a special way - he was talking to Zhongli. Looking back on your personal conversations with Childe, you realized that most of them centered around Zhongli or Zhongli’s personality. You were just so infatuated with trying to please Childe that you hadn’t noticed.

“So, what do you think?”

What did you think? You thought it was the most stupid, heart wrenching idea ever. You thought Childe was the worst person in the world for leading you on (even though deep down you knew he didn’t really lead you on) and you thought Childe should just go back to Snezhnaya.

“Great!” You said, plastering a fake smile on your face, “I’m happy for you.”

Childe gave your hand a squeeze and finally let go. Your own hand slithered back to your lap where you grasped angrily at the hem of your shirt.

You ordered the most expensive item on the menu.

***

You spent the next few weeks putting up a false identity. The day after your dinner with Childe, he followed through with his idea and started to date Zhongli. You hated to admit it, but they were the perfect couple. Childe helped bring Zhongli out of his reclusiveness and Zhongli helped Childe become a more mature person.

Since both men were still your friends, they wanted to continue their relationship with you. And you didn’t have the heart to tell them to leave you alone. Now that they were dating, it was always the three of you and you quickly grew to their third wheel.

Childe offered to do commissions with you and, of course, Zhongli came along and your usual table during lunch with Zhongli had to be changed so a third person could fit. It was fun at first since Zhongli and Childe were still getting comfortable with their new dynamic but once they discovered intimacy and physical touch, you had enough.

Not only did you have to suffer through not one but two one-sided crushes just to have them start dating each other, now you had to sit by and watch them practically drool all over each other. Instead of going out to lunch with the couple one day, you made up an excuse about work you needed to finish and collapsed in a chair in Hu Tao’s office once they had left.

The funeral director looked at you over a mound of paperwork, “You’re not going out today?”

“And watch Childe try feeding Zhongli for an hour? No thanks.”

You crossed your arms, annoyed, and fixed your sight on the ticking clock on the wall. Hu Tao shifted her small body so she was sitting on her desk facing you, her legs hanging off the side and her feet kicking the side of her desk.

“What happened?” She asked. At her question, you broke and told your boss everything. Hu Tao sat and listened, staring at you concerned while you ranted about how you were convinced the world was out to get you. When you finished your vent, Hu Tao had a mischievous look on her face, “You just need to find someone new.”

You were quick to roll your eyes, “Yeah, no.”

“Believe me, Y/N, getting a new partner would help get your mind off Zhongli and Childe.”

“And where am I supposed to just find someone to date out of the blue?”

“Are you doing anything after work?”

Knowing Hu Tao, you were more than nervous to see what she had up her sleeve. Nonetheless, you avoided Childe and Zhongli for the rest of the day and cautiously left with Hu Tao. You walked behind her in silence as she led you into Liyue Harbor and to a rather large townhouse. She opened the front door and you followed her inside, immediately being met with a bustling and loud environment.

A child ran by your legs and Hu Tao shouted something inaudible at them. She turned on her heel to you, “Sorry for the chaos. You’re okay with staying for dinner, right?”

You nodded your head, realizing it was probably foolish to say no to your boss (it’s not like you had plans anyways). Hu Tao beamed and clapped her hands together, practically dragging you to the kitchen and shoving you down on a barstool. Beside you sat a rather good-looking man and Hu Tao soon introduced him to you.

“Y/N, this is my older brother Jiang. Please find him well.”

So, this is what the director had in mind.

Jiang held out his hand to you politely and you shook it gently, formally introducing yourself to him. For the next few hours, you and Jiang got to know each other. You learned that he was Hu Tao’s eldest sibling and was a teacher in Liyue Harbor. He was around your age and had a very kind smile. By the end of the night, Jiang expressed his interest in you and asked you on a proper date. Hu Tao only smirked giddily behind the counter.

You and Jiang grew close quickly. Your time spent with him was refreshing and for once, you were finally able to get your mind off Childe and Zhongli. You still saw Zhongli (and sometimes Childe) at work but your relationship had already faltered enough to add awkwardness to your conversations. If Zhongli tried to stop you and talk to you about something other than work, you made up an excuse to scurry along. Despite your new relationship, thinking about Zhongli and Childe caused a familiar pain to appear in your chest.

One night you couldn’t leave fast enough and Zhongli caught your arm, “May I have a word with you?”

“Right now?” You asked, glancing at the clock for emphasis, “I really have to get going.”

“Please,” Zhongli said quietly, “Just for a moment.”

You sighed, knowing you didn’t have a valid excuse rolled up in your sleeve this time. You nodded your head and slipped your bag from your shoulder back onto the chair in front of you. Zhongli retracted his hand from your arm, instead deciding to loosely cross them across his chest.

“Have we done something wrong?” He asked.

“What are you talking about?”

“Childe and I have noticed your absence from our outings,” He explained, his tone remaining very flat, “We miss you.”

You wanted to scoff at him. You weren’t a part of their relationship, why did they miss you? “I’ve just been busy,” You said, “In fact, I started seeing someone.”

Zhongli’s expression at this statement was indescribable. It was as if he had a reaction but was trying to hide it behind tight lips. Even his usual bright eyes were unreadable. “I see,” He said simply. He paused for a moment before flashing you a cheeky, falsified smile, “I’d love to meet them. How about a double date this Saturday? We get off early then.”

You sent Zhongli a similar tight-lipped smirk, “We would love to. See you then.” And with that, you picked up your bag and rushed out of the funeral home, rubbing your temple. You had a bad feeling about this date.

***

Jiang picked you up for your double date at six. You couldn’t help but notice how ravishing he looked that night with his hair slicked back and expensive-looking clothes on his body. Upon further inspection, you could see the faint smudge of eyeliner lining his lashes. Gold jewelry adorned his neck and wrists and you could only assume Hu Tao spent hours making him look this good for you.

“Ready to go?” Jiang asked you, holding his arm out cheekily. You rolled your eyes and grinned, locking your front door and grabbing onto his arm.

You couldn’t shake that uneasy feeling in the pit of your stomach but you didn’t let Jiang know. The last thing he needed was to hear about how the two men he was meeting tonight were former crushes of yours. To him, this double date was a simple outing between coworkers.

You were having dinner together at the Liyue Pavilion as per suggestion of Childe. You were worried about the price but Childe insisted that he would front the bill as always. Part of you missed having your meals constantly covered by the harbinger.

Jiang opened the door to the restaurant for you and you thanked him, slipping inside and spotting the two men you were meeting already at a table. Childe reached up to wave you over and you took Jiang’s arm in yours before heading over there.

“Childe, Zhongli,” You greeted your co-worker and friend, “This is Jiang, my boyfriend.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” Jiang smiled, reaching his free hand out to Childe and Zhongli who both shook it cautiously. After introducing everyone, you sat down at the table and Childe handed you a menu to look over.

Jiang was being overtly sweet to you, touching your fingertips and leaning into your side. You accepted the gestures, even daring to lay your head against his shoulder while he talked to Zhongli about the cor lapis industry. From the corner of your eye, you watched Childe’s jaw clench and his grip on Zhongli’s arm tightened.

“So, tell us about yourself,” Childe asked Jiang, his tone sharp. Jiang, sweet Jiang, only beamed and sat straighter in his chair, “Zhongli tells me your Hu Tao’s brother, correct?”

“Right! She’s my younger sister,” Jiang shook his head and chuckled softly to himself, “And I teach literature at the Liyue Xueyuan.”

“A teacher?” Childe nearly scoffs, “I suppose that’s why you live with your younger sister.”

Jiang seemed taken aback by this comment but tried to play it off by laughing. You felt a pang in your chest and shot Childe a nasty glare for his unnecessary comment but were only met with his sharp eyes. You swore you could see jealousy swimming in them.

“Now, now,” Zhongli interrupted, “Not everyone is as magnificent as you, Childe. No need to make others feel bad.”

You felt Jiang’s body tense and his eyes averted down to his lap for a moment. “Don’t listen to them,” You told him, “They’re just trying to be funny.”

“I would never dream of humoring you about that,” Zhongli replied to you, “I’m just pointing out the obvious. Aren’t we getting to know each other?”

At that moment, you knew exactly what Childe and Zhongli were doing. You noticed the way they were looking admirably at you and shooting daggers at your date. They were clearly trying to badtalk him and make Jiang seem undesirable in your eyes. Only you couldn’t seem to understand why. Shouldn’t they be happy that you finally found someone to potentially settle down with?

One more backhanded comment was thrown in Jiang’s direction and suddenly your partner stood up from the table. The expression on his face was heart-wrenching, “I’m going to use the restroom.” With that, Jiang hurried away from the table leaving you alone with both men.

“What the fuck is wrong with you two?” You snapped, angrily waving your hands around.

“What do you mean?” Childe asked, batting his eyelashes at you in the most painstakingly annoying way ever. Your eyes narrowed and after finding his foot under the table, you stomped on it hard. Childe cursed and crossed his arms, looking down.

Zhongli, understanding Childe was being too immature, spoke up, “You shouldn’t be with him.”

You wanted to tear your hair out, “Who do you think you are to dictate who I can and can’t date?” Your voice was rising but you didn’t care, your frustration jumping out. “Never once have I meddled with your relationship but you think you can with mine?”

“You should be with us.”

Zhongli’s words made you freeze. Was this some sick joke? You wrecked your brain for an incident you caused in the past few months for them to be pranking you like this but you couldn’t think of a single one. Childe reached across the table to grasp your hands and you were still too in shock to pull them away.

“We love you, Y/N, and we should have told you sooner,” Childe says.

You shake your head, “I’m dreaming.”

“You’re not,” Zhongli says, placing his hands over yours and Childe’s, “Please say you’ll be ours.”

Finally, you took a deep breath and looked straight ahead. Zhongli and Childe looked at you with pleading eyes and you felt a rush of emotions explode inside of you. Both of your former crushes were confessing their love to you, asking you to be a part of their relationship. Never once had the thought of a polyamorous relationship crossed your mind but you certainly weren’t opposed to it.

“Okay,” You breathed out, “I will.”

***

Breaking the news to Jiang when he returned back to the table was hard. He was already fragile from being berated before and now you were breaking up with him. You knew you were going to earn an earful from Hu Tao on Monday but you decided to worry about that when the time came.

You had asked Jiang to step aside and in the simplest of terms, you tried to explain the situation.

“So, you’re breaking up with me to date both of them?” He asked in disbelief, running a hand through his hair. His voice was filled with cracks and you wish it didn’t have to be like this. Truthfully, he didn’t understand. How could you be with two people at the same time? “Is this a sex thing? Because I can try harder if that’s-”

“No!” You interrupted, “It’s not, I promise. My heart is just split down the middle for them.”

Jiang sighed again. He may never fully understand your relationship but he appreciated you telling him now rather than later. You offered to walk Jiang home but the man decided he needed some time alone - you didn’t blame him. You wanted to ask Jiang if you could remain friends but the words weren’t coming out of your throat. You watched as Jiang took one last look at you, then the two men at the table, before solemnly walking away and out of the restaurant.

You returned to your new partners and finished your dinner. Slowly, your mood was elevated again but the natural ache of your heartbreak lingered.

“Spend the night with us,” Childe says sweetly after paying the check, “We can help you feel better.”

The feeling of both men on either side of you felt foreign but comforting. You nodded to Childe’s request and Zhongli led the three of you back to his apartment. The next few moments were a blur and when you came to, you were being laid on a soft bed. Childe slid next to you and your arm instinctively wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer, while Zhongli hovered above you. His warm eyes gazed into yours and you decided you could get used to this.

This new love was unique and plentiful as long as the three of you were on the same page, that’s all that mattered.

a/n: sorry this took so long! as you can see, it came out v long lmfao. requests are still open <3

[mystic-sky]

Summary: third-year Gojo’s first kiss with fem reader

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: mentions of marijuana, sfw aside from teen Gojo ogling at your tiddies.

A/N: I wanted to break from my heavy smut writing with something wholesome and sort of vanilla. Enjoy SSS trio and you on a summer night in August.

It was your second summer together, the summer before everything went to shit. The memory will forever be engraved into you, into Gojo Satoru. Forever engraved into Geto Suguru before his departure, and forever engraved into Ieiri Shoko, who had just discovered her newest infatuation with marijuana.

The moment feels ridiculously more ethereal than how you remember it. Suguru and Satoru snicker as you take your first pull. You’re coughing your lungs out, shoving the blunt back between Suguru’s fingers. He allows his laughter to die down before passing it between his lips (most effortlessly) to inhale.

“Like this,” he holds it for a moment, and releases a puff of the high into your face. Your throat closes and you heave again, squeezing your knees as you hunch over.

“You’ll get used to it,” Shoko says, taking hold of the blunt to take her own pull before passing it to Satoru whose just behind you, sitting on the railing. 

He’s blocking the setting sun, which you were grateful for in a way. You eventually got better at smoking before the thing burnt out, much to everyone’s dismay.

“Get us ice cream, oh handsome, honored one.” Shoko bats her long eyelashes at the snow haired male. She shoves an elbow at your side. You quickly join in.

“Oh dearest honored one, bestow us with snacks to cure the munchies.”

He hops down from the railing, and he’s still taller than the rest of you. “Hmm, say the handsome part again, won’t you? Then, I might consider it.” His sunglasses slide down his nose, and he’s more in your face than Shoko’s, even though you never exaggerated the handsome part specifically.

As nose barely touches nose, you’re a bit flustered by the heat of his body emanating onto yours. It was already hot outside, but you surely felt it.

“I’m the handsome, honored one,” you begin, sliding his sunglasses off of his face and putting them on your own. “And I am going to spoil my friends with ice cream— because I’m the honored one.”

“Cute,” he’s holding an loose, irritated scowl, whirling around and quickly walking up ahead of you lot, earning chuckles from the rest of the group. “Are you guys coming or not?”

“Oh we are, handsome honored one,” Shoko snorts on the handsome part again before cheesing at you. You’re imitating his facial expressions with the shades on— wow these things are pretty cool, you think. And clearly expensive. 

It’s a decent walk to the convenience store now that the sun is down, and no longer scorching the open skin of your back. Him and Suguru are snickering about something like usual, peering back immaturely at you and Shoko. The both of you are unamused, wondering if the two of you should pretend to mumble things about them too, just to rile them up. 

She asks you for your hair tie by whispering in your ear, and you stifle a fake laugh, earning raised eyebrows from the two males. You swiftly pull it off your wrist and hand it to her, watching her stuff what she could of her bob cut into a frazzled ponytail.

Stepping foot into the store was probably the sweetest relief of that night. The coldest air poured down your backs as the door chimed loudly upon entry. You slide the sunglasses up to rest on your head, realizing just how bright the in-store lights actually were.

You and Shoko broke off from the boys to choose what you pleased. She picked up a teen idol magazine as you paced just a few steps ahead. You’re grabbing a few snacks as well, something crunchy to fill whatever it was your stomach was feeling. 

The four of you meet again in the ice cream section, and Satoru doesn’t actually care that you and Shoko have picked out more than just ice cream. He’s got an armful of things you never even tried, so you ask him,

“What’s that? S’it good?” He’s distracted by your breasts being pressed together by full arms of snacks. A single strap of your tank top is falling off one of your shoulders, and it makes his gaze stutter about on your frame. Suguru snaps his fingers behind him, forcing a response from Satoru.

“I’ll let you try some,” the response is quick on his tongue, and he scowls at his dark haired friend who had been mocking him in the back ground about his looming crush on you.

“All you get is chocolate stuff,” Shoko inserts herself between you both, analyzing Satoru’s snacks. “Can I get cigs too?” 

He shrugs. He hardly had any limits on his allowances. Money to him was limitless, and that’s why, especially with his sweet tooth, he had absolutely no discipline. He’s at the register minutes later, with more items in hand than the rest of you. He argues that since its the the last week before the summer ends, who knows when you’ll get another outing like this one. 

You are all back by the pier again, sitting on the railing you aren’t supposed to be sitting on because you could very well fall into the sea. Stomachs full of flavored corn snacks and sweets, the munchies are now gone and you’re all talking about... well, a whole lot of nothing.

Shoko, as seemingly spontaneous as ever, wants to dip her feet in the water. 

“I don’t wanna go alone,” she tugs at Suguru’s side. “Carry me there.”

“What? No.” He’s gnawing unapologetically on a bare popsicle stick. Her eyes plead, the same ones from earlier, and he gives in out of annoyance. The two them walk down the steps to the beach. 

You never asked her if she left you alone with Satoru that night on purpose, or what her goals might’ve been, but an opportunity it was, nonetheless.

“The blue one’s better,” he says simply, sucking on the flavored block of ice.

“Than the red one?” You peered at your own popsicle. “I guess it’s up to preference.” 

Your mouth pops off of the tip loudly before you suck again. He wishes you didn’t make it look so lewd.

You ogle at the box of flavors, the rest of them would surely melt by the time you all got back to the school. You turn your head back to feel white hair graze against your arm. He invites himself to taste your popsicle, prompting hard blushes from you. He imitates the loud pop you made just before. 

“Blue is still better,” he smirks at your sudden discomfort. He’s somewhat at eye level with you, and you swallow hard. He’s always flirting with you, messing with you— trying to get some sort of reaction out of you. 

“Just cause you bought it for me doesn’t mean you can invite yourself to taste it whenever you want.” You bring the pop to your lips and suck softly, looking directly at him. He’s blushing now too, but he tries so hard to hide it. He’s stuck on the way that you’re barely shy about it. You’re not telling him to back up like you usually would. Your eyes are sparkling as bright as they’re able with barely any sun left on the horizon.

“Your mouth’s blue,” you break him from his sultry thoughts. He licks his lips, feeling somewhat embarrassed about it.

“Yours is red,” he deflects, he’s definitely not prepared at all for what you say next.

“If we kiss, our lips are gonna be purple,” He’s all for it, but he’s still surprised when your cold lips entwine with his. It’s a sweet taste, but the feeling of the kiss is a cross between sticky and numb. Suddenly, some warmth blooms in the center of it, and you feel each other entirely. Your tongue doesn’t feel like he thought it would, but at least he knows why. You pull away, wrapping your mouth around your pop, nonchalant as ever.

“You’re just always in my face like you wanna kiss me,” you shrug, you’re analyzing him subtly through the corner of your eye. His expression is sort of deer-like. He’s always wanted to kiss you, yeah. Did he think it was going to happen like that? Not exactly. 

“Cause,” the response is seconds late, “I do.” 

He’s not so shy anymore, closing the space between your bodies.

“So just do it,” you look up at him, and his eyes are glimmering at you. He presses his lips to yours, warming them again against your soft and pillowy flesh. A sweet sound pours through his mouth, one he didn’t know you were capable of making. He wondered if all girls tasted this sweet— with the exception of the ice cream. You kissed him back so bashfully, despite your seemingly assertive personality before hand.

The kiss lasts longer than you both realize, prompting sticky ice cream to dribble down both your arms but neither of you care that much. 

Your wet mouths part, and surely there’s a bit of blue on your lips as much as there is red on his. You find yourself looking away from his piercing blue gaze, trying not to draw attention to the blush painting your face. 

“There isn’t anything to wipe my arm up with is there,” you mutter, watching the red juice slither down your arm. You’re tempted to lick it up to prevent it from traveling further but Satoru speaks again.

“We could go rinse our hands by the fountains if you want,” he says, cracking a goofy grin.

“That sounds like a good idea,” you look towards him. “Why are you smiling like that?”

He chuckles lightly as the fingers on his cleaner hand find your face, smooshing your cheeks inward and puckering your lips. “Well would you look at that,” he grins again.

“They definitely are purple.”

[asweetprologue]

me lámh le do lámh - Part II

First | Next | Masterpost

He went straight to Vizima to find Triss, once he’d made his way out of Kaedwen. It wasn’t directly on the way to Oxenfurt, but it was close enough that he didn’t feel he was making an unreasonable digression. Though he was nervous about locating his bard, he needed to know what this Ida person could tell him.

Triss was as welcoming as always, greeting him with a brief press of cheeks and a light embrace. Yennefer had told her of Geralt’s mission, but she was unable to assist him on the first day, busy with treating several commoners who had come down with a sickness. Nothing of a magical nature, but it did detain her for much of the day after Geralt’s arrival. He busied himself in the city, restocking on potion ingredients that he’d run low on over the long winter, dropping his armor off to be reinforced, and picking up a slim cloth bracelet for Jaskier. It was a soft blue color, with silver beads spaced evenly over the surface, and Geralt thought it would please him.

Gods. He was in trouble.

That evening he dined with Triss in her quarters, despite the fact that it was wildly inappropriate. Geralt asked after it, and Triss laughed dismissively.

“That is a delightful sentiment, but no one is questioning my dalliances,” she said with a grin. “They’re too afraid I’ll turn them into toads if they irritate me. And besides, half the Continent believes that you’re courting Yennefer because of the bard’s silly songs, and the other half thinks you’re courting the bard.”

Ah. “Well,” Geralt said, articulately.

Triss smirked at him over her wine. It was exceptionally good, a vintage from Toussaint that was nearly as old as Geralt. Triss’ quarters were fairly large, befitting a court mage, but decorated in a way that made them seem almost cozy. She favored muted colors that turned rich in the light of the candles scattered around the room. There were dozens of tables and shelves crowded with books, herbs and knick knacks that made the space feel distinctly lived in. It was a stark contrast to Yennefer’s lodgings, which were always immaculate and finely organized. The clutter was a refreshing change of pace. “Yennefer told me that you’re trying to make the bard immortal,” Triss said. One of her eyebrows rose, and Geralt wasn’t sure if the look she gave him was impressed or judgemental.

“Not necessarily,” Geralt said defensively. “Just not so, uh.”

“Excessively mortal?”

He hummed. Triss sighed.

“I don’t know of anything to lengthen a human lifespan to that of a witcher’s,” she said. “But the elves have been dealing in things relating to life force for longer than there have been human mages on the Continent. If anyone has any knowledge of what you’re after, it will be the Aen Saevherne.”

Geralt nodded. “Yennefer told me to ask after a woman named Ida. A sage?”

Triss set her goblet down, looking grave. “Ida Emean. An old acquaintance of mine. Perhaps one of the last elven sages alive, though they’re so secretive it’s difficult to tell. She works occasionally with the Brotherhood, when their goals align. But you need to know, Geralt, even if she has an answer for you, this kind of magic comes with a price. Always.”

“I’m willing to pay it,” Geralt said. “Jaskier, he’s—”

Triss interrupted him with a gentle smile, brushing her fingers over the back of his hand on the table. “I know what he is to you. I want to help. I just want you to be careful.” Geralt wondered when he’d become this transparent to, apparently, half the Continent and every one of his close friends. The sorceresses were probably gossiping behind his back.

“How will you contact her?” Geralt asked, pushing through his embarrassment. He wished saving Jaskier’s fragile human life didn’t involve so many conversations about his unrequited love.

“Megascope,” Triss said, rising. “We’ll need to do it soon, when the moon rises. It will make the connection stronger; I’m not sure where she is.”

Geralt followed her into a room off of the main sitting area, a small space that was almost entirely dominated by Triss’ megascope. He’d seen its like numerous times at Kaer Morhen, where Yennefer had set her own up in the highest tower still standing. The large crystal disks swam with a cool blue light as Triss waved her hand through the air. Three brass arms rose up to hold them at shoulder level, facing inwards to form a triangle. The soft light filled the dark space, throwing Triss’ face into sharp relief before Geralt snapped a finger to light the candles in the room.

Triss stepped up in front of the negative space between the stands, uttering a few words in Elder that Geralt wasn’t familiar with. After a moment the light began to shimmer and twist around itself, slowly solidifying into a human form.

The figure was indistinct, as they usually were in megascope projections, but Geralt could tell that the woman was beautiful. Used to dealing with elves in the south, whose genes had been diluted with human blood over so many centuries, Geralt was taken aback by the sharpness of her features. Her neck was long and elegant, and her hair fell in sheets around her alien features. He was reminded suddenly of his encounter with the elves of the Blue Mountains so many years ago, the inhuman angle of Filavandrel’s cheekbones.

The smoky figure turned towards Triss first, her head dropping in a brief nod. “Triss Merigold. Keidmil.” Ida said in greeting.

Triss nodded in return, her curls bouncing with the motion. “Keidmil, Ida. I apologize for summoning you with so little warning. I have done so as a favor to a friend.” At this Ida’s eyes, empty orbs of swirling blue light in the megascope, fell on Geralt.

“Vatgern,” she said, with the tone of someone who has just discovered something fascinating but slightly repulsive on the bottom of their shoe. “You have friends in high places, wed. What business does a witcher have with me?” Her accent made the words almost musical.

Geralt’s nod of acknowledgement was more of a bow. He wasn’t normally one to show deference to those with power, but this time his heart was pounding in his ears as he leaned forward. If Ida wouldn’t help him, he would be back to square one before he’d even really begun. “Keidmil, Aen Saevherne,” he said as demurely as he could, which probably still came out sounding like gravel. “I was told by Yennefer of Vengerberg that you might have some knowledge on extending human lifespans.”

Ida’s head tilted a tic to the side, clearly intrigued. “Witchers already live near as long as any half-elf on the Continent,” she replied. “There is no spell that could give you the lifespan of a true Aen Seidhe.”

“It isn’t for myself,” Geralt said quickly. “It’s for a human. Someone I… care deeply about.” He ignored the way his face flamed at this admission, no matter how clear it was that Triss obviously knew about his infatuation. He’d barely admitted it aloud to himself, let alone anyone else.

Ida hummed, the sound vibrating through the megascope. “This has precedent. But the spell you seek does not come without cost.”

“Tell me,” Geralt said firmly.

“There has always been conflict between humankind and the Aes Seidhe. Our peoples have crossed gweld an gleidyf many times over the millennia. But there were always times when there was peace, coexistence. In the early days, before the blood of men diluted our own, the Aes Seidhe could live through half a dozen human lifetimes or more. It was taboo to form relationships with humans, and many did not bother. But there were, of course, exceptions.

“It is unclear where the ritual comes from, but the tales say that one of the Aen Saevherne fell in love with a human woman, who then fell gravely ill as she entered her twilight years. The sage, terrified of losing her, bound her lifeforce to his own, effectively extending her life at the cost of some of his own longevity. Over the years the ritual was refined by others. It has fallen out of practice, in this age; many of the Aes Seidhe’s bloodlines are so diluted that they live for no longer than twice a human lifetime. But the ritual remains.”

Geralt swallowed. “Can you explain it to me?”

“I can,” Ida said, her chin raising slightly. “But I do not need to tell you, vatgern, that all such magic comes with consequences. You cannot create those years from nothing; they must be drawn from somewhere. And you will be binding yourself to this human. I cannot say how this ritual will impact someone who is not of elvish blood.”

He could feel Triss turning worried eyes on him. She too knew the price that magic could demand. “Will Ja—the human, could he be harmed?” Geralt asked.

Ida’s head shook back and forth, her hair swaying. “You assume the responsibility of the ritual,” she said. “Is this human worth so much to you?”

“Yes,” Geralt said instantly, surprised by his own lack of hesitation. “Anything.”

Ida looked at him for a moment, as if judging his truthfulness. “Very well,” she finally said. “I will give you the words, but the ritual requires additional pieces. Gaes carraigh, an oathstone, for the vow; ghealachlíon, night’s linseed, for the binding; and ionad, a place of great power or great personal meaning. Once these elements are combined, you bind your hands with the moonflax over the oathstone and speak the incantation. It is straightforward, but your pronunciation and your intent must be exact. Me lámh le do lámh, me cáerme le do cáerme.”

“Me lámh le do lámh, me cáerme le do cáerme,” Geralt repeated. The words were easy, close enough to their modern counterparts that he was certain it would be nearly identical in southern Elder. It was almost too easy, romantic in its simplicity. Ida nodded, satisfied. “And that’s all?” Geralt asked, breathless.

“That is all. There need be no officiant, no further ceremony. You will be bound by Chaos herself.”

“Officiant?” Geralt blinked, confused. “Why would we need an officiant?”

“I have been told that human marriages tend to involve quite a few witnesses,” Ida said, sounding amused. “Ours are a bit more personal.”

“Wait. This is a marriage ritual?” Geralt felt his heart starting to sink down into his stomach.

“I thought that much was obvious,” Ida replied. “Now, if that is all you require, I have my own business to attend to.”

“Me grasha, Ida, for taking the time,” Triss piped up again. “If you ever need a favor in return…”

“I will keep that in mind,” Ida said. “Va feil.”

“Va feil,” Triss replied, and the megascoped dimmed and cast the room back into darkness.

Geralt stood in utter stillness for a moment, blinking into the dark. “Fuck,” he burst out. “I have to marry him?”

Triss just laughed.

*

Triss, luckily, knew the locations of most of the components Ida had mentioned, though the last location would be up to Geralt to determine. The first of these, the oathstone, was used frequently enough in larger elven settlements before their people were displaced. She had recommended the ruins of Ban Aine as a likely findspot, and it was situated not too far from Oxenfurt. That was to be his first real stop, to collect Jaskier and convince him of Geralt’s plan.

Hopefully without revealing too much about the exact nature of the ritual, which still made Geralt sweat when he thought about it for too long.

He couldn’t help but think of it with a strange mix of giddiness and dread, churning together in a nauseating concoction. Marriage wasn’t something that witchers got to do, ever. Their lives were transient and drawn out, and often ended in violence. Even if any of them had the time to court lovers, it wasn’t the type of life that one would wish on someone they cared for. It could only end one of two ways: the witcher outlived their paramour, or their love was left to grieve them after they were gutted by some beast or strung up by an angry mob.

Even when Geralt had been infatuated with Yennefer he hadn’t truly considered anything like marriage. He had imagined a kind of loose commitment, maybe, but he had always known somewhere deep in his own mind that Yennefer would never stand to be tied down to anyone for long. He had been desperate enough for her love that he’d been willing to settle for anything she could give him.

He had never dared to hope for more, no matter how he might want it. Still, once he had come to understand his own feelings towards Jaskier, he had been unable to stop himself from thinking about it at times. He wondered what things might change between them, if they tied themselves together. Things might stay much the same; Jaskier would come to Kaer Morhen most years, and journey with Geralt when he could throughout the rest of the year. He would bring trinkets and books and stories for Ciri, and teach her how to be human, and trade quips with Yennefer and the other wolves when they all gathered. He would still help Geralt clean up after a hunt, help him stitch his skin back together and wash away the grime and curl up at his side when night came. But maybe he would also let Geralt wake him by pressing his lips to Jaskier’s eyelids like he had so often yearned to do. Maybe he would reach out and hold Geralt’s hand as they walked through a new town; maybe he would close the distance kept between them when they lay in tiny rented beds.

Maybe he could be Geralt’s, and no one else’s.

He was successful, most of the time, in keeping these kinds of thoughts at bay. It did a witcher no good to dwell on what could not be.

Now it would be, if only technically, and only if Geralt could convince Jaskier to perform the ritual without giving away its origins. He considered telling Jaskier the full truth of it, of course. It was probable that Jaskier wouldn’t even care. In his mind, they were only friends; it would be easy enough to set aside the implications of the ritual in favor of practicality. It would be ridiculous to turn down the chance at potentially doubling his own lifespan just because hundreds of years ago an ancient ritual was used for romantic unions.

But every time Geralt thought of telling Jaskier, and of hearing him dismiss Geralt’s concerns, he felt something black and dreadful crawl up his throat. Jaskier would think it was silly, the idea that he could ever be married to a witcher. He would laugh, with that sly grin he always got when they were sharing a joke between them—isn’t that funny, the look would say, the idea of you and me.

No. If he said nothing, Jaskier would never have to know, and what he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. Geralt would never hold him to any sort of bond that the ritual created between them; he would be happy knowing that Jaskier wouldn’t be taken from him by time and old age, at least not yet.

And at least he would have something of Jaskier for himself, even if he’d had to steal it.

[masonscig]

bittersweet

part two

pairing | felix x flor

word count | 3.2k

warnings | smut. minors dni.

author’s note | so i wanted to write like 2 more parts to this, but honestly... i feel like this turned out great. also yes, i probably should’ve made this a lot shorter, but the prompt got away from me as per usual. not proofread because i’m tired :/ this is for day seven of hot in wayhaven, aftercare!

•─────────────────•

Things have been weird since that night.

She just kind of went back to treating him exactly the same as she had before. She held him at arms’ length like she did with everyone she was wary of letting in.

He was sure that this time he’d made progress.

For the few months leading up till he almost throat fucked her in her dimly lit apartment, she’d been warming up to him.

He managed a few genuine smiles and laughs despite trying less hard to do so. He caught her watching him across the room during meetings, trainings, briefings… anytime they weren’t alone, he caught her staring at least once.

She’d even started asking about him. Any time he was late to a meeting, she bugged Mason with a punch to the shoulder or a scuff of her shoe against the toe of his own.

Didn’t matter how much progress he’d made if it’d just been ruined by one big fuck up on both of their ends.

This particular night, Felix is mulling over the events leading up to when she left, still trying to figure out where things went wrong.

He paces around the room once, twice, before plopping into his giant bean bag chair.

Before he can really settle in there, he’s restless again, jumping to his feet to cross the room once again, climbing into the hammock in the corner.

This isn’t right, either, he huffs to himself, rolling awkwardly out of the hammock and to the middle of the room, flinging himself onto his bed.

He picks up the Gameboy on his nightstand, tap-tap-tapping away on full volume until he hears a single loud thud against the wall across from him.

Abandoning his game of Galaga, he groans in frustration, rolling his eyes at Mason’s feeble attempts to silence him. Tossing the Gameboy to the foot of his bed, he opts instead to grab his tamagotchi, feeding his pet till he’s bored again.

He has lots of things. And these things keep him occupied and hold his attention for a while.

But none of them keep his attention long enough to satiate his wandering mind.

Flor’s been his main focus for a while, but it’s particularly bad this week since she’s taken a vacation for the first time since he’s met her.

It’s not even that she’s a hard worker – she’s just on such bad terms with the captain that she never bothered asking for days off when she knew she wouldn’t get them even if she had plans to get outta town.

Her being on vacation doesn’t bother him at all – it’s the way he’s got unfinished business and he can’t do anything about it.

He can’t seem to think of anything else without her creeping into the back of his mind one way or the other.

He twists off of the bed and walks to his dresser, where his phone’s charging on its surface.

He’s confused. He misses her, he’s angry at her, he wants her –

To say he’s confused is an understatement, really.

He’s been patient, he’s been kind, he’s been understanding – and for her to ignore him for the entire summer?

He’d been counting down the days till they got back to normal. He’s in the hundreds now, and there’s no end in sight.

There’s two endings if he decides to fix it tonight – he’s either getting treated better, or he moves on from her.

The latter option is a painful thought, one he doesn’t give himself time to digest before he taps the number at the top of his favorites.

The phone rings once, twice, and his finger hovers over the end call button. He’s so close to chickening out – this is an awful idea –

“What? Huh?” Flor asks, voice raspy and twinged with sleep. She yawns around her greeting, and he can picture her running a hand through her thick dyed hair. “Who is this?”

Does she really not even have his number saved?

“Uh, it’s Felix. I, um, this is a check in call,” he lies, tensing immediately.

Why’s that his knee jerk reaction? Two seconds into the call and he’s already making excuses instead of standing up for himself.

He really can’t help it, though. She’s so intimidating.

“It’s four thirty in the fucking morning,” she groans. “If you and your little team aren’t gonna respect my sleeping schedule consider any calls from this point on fucking rejected.”

“No, no, I, uh –”

He has no excuses. He can’t lie again… and she already sounds upset, and it’d make the rest of the call even more unpleasant.

“I lied. It’s not a check up,” he sits up in bed, nervously fiddling with the tamagotchi.

“Well then what is it?” She spits, clearly cranky and sleep deprived.

“I have some things I need to say to you, and… I, uh, I don’t know if you’ll like it,” he twists the keychain around his finger, but tosses his little friend to the end of his bed alongside his Gameboy. He needs to focus.

She’s silent. He knows he’s on limited time. 

“I… miss you.”

She goes silent, the static of the phone crackling because of both of their poor signals.

“Thanks.”

The one word response has him silently screaming at himself – he flings himself back on the bed, kicking his legs and flailing.

I miss you. Thanks.

The most embarrassing response he could’ve ever gotten.

“I was gonna say more than that. I’m just… gathering the courage,” he says, takes a deep breath, anchors himself.

“I don’t like how you’ve been treating me, Flor, honestly, and I think you owe me an apology.”

“Oh, I do,” she responds, a deadpan question, nearly mocking.

“Yeah, you do,” Felix bites back immediately, surprised even at himself with how forceful he’s being. “You almost fucked me at the beginning of summer, and now you’re not talking to me? I thought we were, I don’t know, friends at least? I know I’m not your Tina and I never will be, but I want to be there for you.”

“I’m not…” she trails off, and there’s a swishing sound like she’s shifting in bed. “Trying to avoid you, alright? It just seems like that, I guess.”

He can’t stop his hand from clenching into a tight fist, can’t stop it from shaking with rage, can’t stop the venom bubbling up his throat and dripping off his tongue.

“Don’t… tell me how to feel, Flor. I’m upset, so don’t try to downplay it, okay? I know you’re trying to avoid me, and that’s fine, I guess, as long as you, I dunno, let me move on.”

“Move on?” She asks, her tone (surprisingly) cushioned with sincerity.

“Yeah, I, uh,” he stands, striding across the room to the window, and back to the door, pacing (He’s wondering if she’s pacing too). “I like you a lot, but I have to protect myself, too, y’know? If you don’t want me around, you’ve gotta tell me so that I can stop, uh, investing too much of myself into… this.”

“Felix…” she sighs, and quiets. “I know you’re looking for answers, but I don’t have them. I don’t know.”

“So, what, that’s it then?”

“I… yeah. Yeah. That’s it.”

Flor sounds unsure, but he’s not gonna press her further. It hurts, but he has to move on or she’ll consume him in a fiery blaze.

He’s let the flames lick at him, but when it comes down to it, he can’t handle the inferno. He’s walking away before he gets burned, when all he wants to do is be engulfed by her.

It’s easier this way, in theory, but saying goodbye is harder than he’s ever anticipated.

“Bye, Flor. Sweet dreams.”

He disconnects before she can say another word, and he crumples onto his bed, pulling his knees to his chest.

He’s losing another person he cares about, and just like last time, he couldn’t do a damn thing about it.

Tears are falling freely now, and he angrily wipes them away with a rough backhand.

It’s not her fault. It’s not your fault. You’re just not compatible.

That’s what he tells himself, at least, as he’s drifting off to sleep. He’ll deal with Rebecca and Unit Bravo in the morning.

––––

Flor clutches the phone in her hand, her jaw tight.

She didn’t get the last word, and she sure as hell didn’t get to say what she wanted to say.

Felix was hurting and she couldn’t even manage kindness for one goddamn moment.

No one asks to be emotionally detached – it's just easier that way, for Flor, at least.

Wading through the mess of her apartment, she steps into the bare kitchen. Pours herself a cup of water. Chugs it to clear her head.

When that doesn’t do the trick, she takes a hefty shot of tequila. Bad idea, but the burn gives her a sense of clarity she doesn’t have when she’s completely sober.

You’ve been dragging your fucking feet for years now. Get the hell over it. Go to him. Be with him.

Every instinct she has is dragging her towards the front door where her car keys hang. Another bad idea, as per usual.

Before she can talk herself out of it, she shoots him a quick text. Come over. Please. We need to talk in person.

It’s not the wisest idea for her to face her problems head on, but the tiny, reasonable part of Flor’s mind is telling her she needs to fight for him instead of letting him slip through her fingers.

––––

He doesn’t see the text till an hour and a half after she’s sent it.

It’s just past six in the morning. The sun’s just barely creeping its way into his room, golden streaks across his wood floor.

He assumes she just wants the last word and that’s why she sent it – but an even louder part of him entertains the “what ifs” that are bouncing around his mind.

What if she wants to apologize? What if she wants to hear how I feel? And tell me where her head’s at? 

After going back and forth for a few minutes, impulse wins, and he’s tossing on a vibrant graphic tee and shorts before he sprints out the door. 

Nate’s the only one up, reading the newspaper and filling out the crossword puzzles in the soft lighting of the kitchen, and he shoots Felix a knowing look of encouragement.

Unit Bravo knows how infatuated Felix is with Flor, and they constantly flit between telling him to let her go and chasing after her.

Today’s a good day in that regard – Nate’s given his wordless blessing with nothing but a soft smile.

He’s at her place in ten minutes flat, staring up at the apartment like it’s a creaky, spooky haunted house.

His courage is thinning the closer he steps to her front door. His bones are gelatin, and his brain is equally as mushy.

It’s not an ideal state, but he doesn’t know when he’ll get another chance like this. Get the courage again like this.

Rapping his knuckles against the stained door, he waits. He rocks back on his heels, taps his feet, does anything he can to get the jitters out of his system.

When the door finally does open, his heart leaps at the sight of her.

Her hair’s a mess. Her leftover eyeliner is smudged all around her eyes. Her dark eyes are lined with red from lack of sleep. She looks exhausted.

“You came.”

“Yeah,” he breathes, and steps into her apartment when she gestures for him to come in.

She shuts the door behind him, and this time instead of shoving him up against the door to kiss him, she takes his hand.

Laces her fingers through his own, tugs him toward her couch.

He doesn’t know how to start this conversation, and from the looks of it, neither does she.

“What’s up?” He asks, simply, feeling like an idiot almost instantly for making things that casual.

“I’m…” she trails off, nearly black irises softening when she looks at him. He could live in those midnight pools.

“Sorry. I’m sorry.”

He raises both brows in surprise, and his gaze flits to their hands. She’s death gripping one of his hands with both of hers, her jaw set.

“Uh –”

“I’m getting to the why. I just don’t know how to say it –”

She grunts, shifting on the couch. “I’m not a nice person. You know that.”

“You’re nice in your own way,” he offers, rubbing a thumb over her knuckles.

“God, Felix, I’m a mean bitter bitch. Don’t sugar coat it,” she laughs. “I don’t really wanna be this way, but it’s easier than getting… invested in people.”

“Whaddaya mean?”

“It’s just easier to shut people out than to have expectations for them,” she starts, shrugging. “And having them expect things from you, too.”

“So, what you’re saying is, you don’t want us to have expectations for each other?” He asks.

“I’m gonna say this as bluntly and straight forward as I can, because I don’t think I can do anything else,” she answers after taking a deep, shaky breath.

“I like you. I’m attracted to you. I want you in my life,” she holds his eyes, speaking as earnestly as she can manage. “But I need you to be patient with me. I don’t know how to do… this. I don’t know how to get close to people anymore. Last time I did it was fucking toxic and I told myself never again.”

“Bobby,” he murmurs, and she nods.

“If you want me, too, we’ll both have to compromise,” she continues, stiffening a little like she’s bracing for impact. “I have to get used to the way you do things, and you’ll have to get used to the way I am, too. But I promise you, Felix, I’m gonna try.”

“Try what?” His voice is a little shaky, and she’s coming towards him, slowly closing the gap between them.

“I’m gonna try to love you, if you’ll try to love me,” she whispers, her jaw set again.

That’s all he needed to hear.

He closes his eyes and kisses her sweetly, softly, letting go of her hands so he can cup her face.

She’s so precious to him, so he cradles her face like the gem she is.

“Flor…” Her name’s a quiet promise as it falls from his lips.

I promise as long as you’re trying, I’ll try, too.

She clutches his hips as she kisses him, moaning sweetly into his mouth.

He doesn’t know when she starts slowly tugging his clothes off, but soon enough, they’re skin to skin, and he can’t tell where his body ends and hers begins.

She’s different this time, he notices. She’s more timid. Maybe she’s never been taken care of like this before.

As he bows his head between her legs, he can’t help but wonder if he’ll be her favorite or not.

She’s slack jawed and grasping at his head, squeezing her tattooed thighs around his face.

God, she’s beautiful, all spread out for him – she’s a gift of brown skin (and a pretty pink pussy).

She writhes and pants with each stroke of his tongue, his name broken and garbled on her lips.

When she tugs his head upwards to press sloppy kisses on his mouth, he knows she wants more.

“Flor…” he trails off, feeling sweat bead on the back of his neck. “Do you really wanna do this?”

“Only if you want to, doll.”

God, he can barely breathe. A proposition and a pet name. To most, that’s nothing. But to him, it’s the entire world.

She anchors herself on top of him and settles onto his cock, keeping direct eye contact while she stretches around him.

His eyes are fluttering shut, rolling back, and his head is threatening to loll to the side – she grabs his cheeks between her hand and tugs him back up, her half lidded eyes lustful and determined.

“I want to see you… watch me, and I’ll watch you,” she pants as she flexes her hips, his tip the only part inside of her, but she flexes again, taking all of him (every delicious inch).

“Fuck,” he curses, and she grins, bouncing against him.

He fists his hands at her hips, running a hand up her stomach to rest at the barbed wire tattoos lining her under boob. He can’t figure out what part of her he wants to touch so he opts for it all, squeezing, nipping, kissing every piece of skin his hands and mouth can cover.

“You feel so fucking good around me, doll – fuck me just like that,” she grunts as he bucks up into her.

He’s never been one to have a filthy mouth, but boy does he fucking love it.

The sun’s fully engulfing her living room at this point, the golden glow warming both of their exposed skin already, glistening in the Wayhaven sunrise.

She’s so pretty like this. She’s in her element like this, too. Confident.

The nervous, rigid version of herself was long gone.

She’s opening up to him. Albeit emotionally and physically, she’s trying. She’s blooming for him.

Flor means flower right? She’s finally in season, and it’s worth the wait.

––––

In the heat of it all, they’ve kicked all her clean laundry to the floor, but she grabbed a thin blanket from the top to cover them.

She’s cuddled up to him on the small couch, her head resting on his sweat slicked chest.

They’d been at it for a while when they both finally came. He didn’t expect her to want to cuddle, but they did.

“We probably need to clean up, huh?” she murmurs, soft kisses against his skin.

“Lemme take care of it,” he grins, crawling over her before she can protest.

He’s back in a flash with a damp towel and a bottle of water.

“Thanks,” she smiles, taking the bottle from him. When she tries to grab the damp towel, he holds it away from her.

“Can I clean you up?” He asks timidly.

Flor shrugs, mouth still on the bottle. “Okay.”

He bends to his knees and pulls the blanket away, dragging the cloth gently along her thighs, cleaning up the mess he’s made.

He folds the towel and rubs her stomach and thighs again, before kissing her knee. “You’re so pretty.”

Before he can stand up, she grabs his arm and tugs him back down for a long kiss.

When she pulls back, her eyes are shiny, soft. Midnight pools, and he’s submerged in them.

“I’ve never been fucked by someone who cares about me like you do.”

He grins and pulls her in for a kiss again.

“Well, get used to the feeling.”

He wants every messy, unpolished part of Flor he can get, from her crass humor to her sailor’s mouth.

This is the farthest they’ve ever taken things, yeah, but he’s willing to go further and further with her, as long as she’ll have him.

[jamespotterthefirst]

In the Afterglow (Ethan x f!MC)

Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Lilac Allende) Word count: 1.7K Warning: Language Premise: The day after their first kiss in Miami. (Book 1, Chapter 10.5)

Series: Open Heart from Ethan’s POV

A/N: I took some liberties...

The azure waters of the pool rippled softly even long after all of its cheery occupants had left to sleep off the copious amounts of alcohol they had consumed. It was almost midnight by the time Ethan stepped into the pool area, determined to let the biting water wash away the misery of the day. A breeze roiled off the nearby sea carrying a cooler bite than the night before.

At once, memories of the aforementioned night flooded his consciousness before he could stop them. Soft, delicate hands roaming his body with something close to desperation; full, rosy lips moving in tangent against his like a perfect symphony that had been months in the making; the breathless, maddening way she whispered his name, sweet on her lips like honey.

Ethan pressed his eyes shut, fighting against the memories. With a shuddering breath, he reached the edge of the water, but before he could dive in, he stopped when his eyes fell on the lone figure. Sitting at the far end of the pool, pretty features back lit by the golden lights in the water, was the very same person he was struggling to forget.

The world seemed to come to a standstill as their eyes met for the first time since their kiss. In the stifling silence, Ethan could feel the riot that was his pulse and he briefly wondered if she could hear it too.

“So you are alive,” he said at last, unable to hold back the edge of sarcasm. He winced internally but his eyes remained fixed on her across the water.

They had spent the day carefully avoiding the other, starting from the moment Ethan deliberately awoke at dawn, well before her, and left to occupy his mind at the conference. He had known even then that no amount of monotonous lectures or top shelf scotch was going to erase her from his thoughts. Apparently Lilac had the same plan as Ethan because she spent the last day of the conference visiting booths on the show floor and networking. At least, that's what Ethan gathered from the brief glimpses he caught of her from afar. Judging from her easy smiles and the visibly infatuated young doctor who rarely left her side all day, she had been far more successful than Ethan at forgetting their kiss.

His hands clenched involuntarily at his sides at the memory of her new companion's hopeful smile every time Lilac so much glanced his way. Ethan allowed the dull sting of jealousy to prickle his insides. He deserved it after he pushed her away so callously the night before.

From across the water, Lilac met his gaze with quiet defiance. “Hello to you too, Doctor Ramsey.”

The formality of her address felt like a slap, especially when she had all but moaned his name the night before. You deserve it, he reminded himself.

“What are you doing out so late? We have an early flight to catch.”

“I was with a friend.”

His gut twisted in the silence.

“And where's your friend now?”

“Upstairs,” she replied, her voice as impassive as her expression. Despite her deliberate lack  of emotion, the single word communicated more. Upstairs… waiting for me.

Ethan glanced away, afraid that one more second of staring at her assessing, clever eyes would give away the torrent of agony rippling inside him. It should be him. It should be Ethan waiting for her in a warm hotel room, eager to have her in his arms. It should them, together after months of wishing for nothing else.

When he finally gathered the courage to glance back at her, he could see the same thoughts flickering in those fiery eyes he adored, as clear as the crystal water that separated them. Those eyes bore into his with bold conviction. In the silence, she was daring him to stop her, to verbalize his need for her, to fight for her.

He didn't and her expression crumpled with evident hurt. With a small, shaky sigh that felt like a knife twisting at his side, she strode through the water, determined to storm off.

“Lilac.”

The blazing wave of longing sizzling through his blood was an entity of its own, carrying Ethan toward her until they met at the stairs of the pool. Knowing damn well he had no right to stop her, he did so anyway, his hand gently taking hold of her arm.

Lilac glanced at where he touched her as though his fingers burned her. Her eyes found his and something seemed to soften in her expression. This close, he could see the lines of exhaustion marring her face, a testament to the sleepless night she also had.

“What do you want, Ethan?”

The answer to that was simple, he realized. Because what he wanted the most was currently right before him. His throat tightened, choosing to say instead—

“I want you to stay.”

Another deafening silence, so thick it was almost tangible. Lilac said nothing, though the dignified way in which she jutted her chin forward suggested otherwise. At last, she lost whatever internal battle she was fighting because her lips parted to whisper—

“Make me stay.”

Ethan's fingers flexed slightly around her wrist as he failed to stifle the thrill those words sent through him. A primal part of his brain presented him with many ways to fulfill her request, many of which involved their bodies pressed together. Fuck his conviction or every logical reason to push her away. He couldn't remember them clearly anyway when her captivating eyes fell down to settle on his lips.

“Ethan—”

She couldn't finish that sentence because he was kissing her, hard. The reunion of their lips brought a wave of relief he didn't know he needed since the previous night, since perhaps the first moment he saw her.

Lilac kissed him back just as fiercely, her arms locking around his neck. The force of their bodies meeting compromised their balance, sending them back into the pool, the sting of the cold water almost inconsequential to Ethan. Without breaking their kiss, he steadied her securely against his body.

As he deepened the kiss, his tongue lavishly taunting hers, her nails raked lightly down his chest, sending shivers down his spine. She broke the kiss to tease him with torturous little kisses along his neck, her hands sinking under the water to graze his abs. Any lower and she'd find the poof of her effect on him, though he suspected she already knew it.

“I'd hoped we could do this again,” she confessed, a hot whisper against his lips.

A spike of panic speared through him again, reminiscent of the previous night. If anyone saw them… Her career and everything she worked so hard for would be ruined. All because Ethan was weak-willed and pathetically incapable of resisting her.

“Lilac, we—”

She shook her head, as though reading his mind. “We're not at Edenbrook.”

“I'm still your boss.”

“Then I quit.”

“Be serious.”

The words were so hypocritical with her wet, half naked body pressed against his that Ethan almost laughed.

“Fine,” she allowed, pulling back enough to look at him in the eye. Her arms, however, remained around his neck, much to his delight. “We don't have to be Dr. Allende and Dr. Ramsey at this moment.” Ethan opened his mouth to argue but she pressed on. “Please, Ethan. Please let us be just Lilac and Ethan. Just this once.”

He said nothing, going against all reason to actually consider the request. Normally, he'd explain it wasn't that simple, that every action against the rules had inevitable consequences.

“Please,” she whispered, punctuating the plea with a chaste kiss.

And that was all it took to convince him. He was weak-willed when it came to her.

Without wasting another moment, he pulled her impossibly closer and captured her lips with his. The little moan that reflexively escaped her fueled him to hoist her up with almost ungraceful movements, her legs enclosing his waist at once. Apparently, she was just as inspired by their new position, particularly by his hands firmly gripping her ass, because she bit down on his lower lip, using her tongue to soothe the sting right after.

He cursed.

She pried her lips away from his to murmur in his ear. “I wasn't going to go to him.”

Dizzy and disoriented, Ethan struggled to place the words. Until his muddled brain remembered the doctor he had seen her with.

“He's not who I want.”

The words were like a catalyst, reigniting  something fierce in his chest. Without responding, he pushed her against the tiled wall of the pool, the lapping of the water mixing with her breathless moan. His lips pressed hot, desperate kisses along the curve of her neck and shoulder.

As if Ethan wasn't beyond reason already, breaking every rule for the promise of her lips, she rolled her body against his in a tantalizing little rhythm. Ethan cursed again, the sound low and gravelly.

“Lilac.”

Their mouths found each other like magnets. Ethan kissed her until their lips were raw, until they were both breathless, until they shivered slightly from the biting chill of the water. They pulled apart, panting, foreheads pressed together. A small pang of sadness ran through Ethan as he realized the end of their little spell was within sight.

Yet, her green eyes on his was a spell of its own, one that always managed to leave him reeling.

“Lilac,” he started, never tiring of saying her name. What was he going to say next? Anytime the words manifested in his mind, the cynicism that had been his comfort all these years struck them dead.

“I know,” she whispered.

How could she? How could she know when he hadn't known himself until recently.

“This can't happen again.” She smiled sadly at him, pressing one last kiss to his lips, completely unaware of how his heart shattered into fine dust. Looking as though she wanted nothing more than to stay in his arms all night, she disentangled herself from his body.

She was right.

Desperately trying to protect her own dignity, she had said the words  before he could.

Swallowing hard, he gave her a small nod. “We should go back inside. Our flight is at six and we're going straight to work after we arrive.”

Edenbrook, the place where they would revert back to their roles of attending and intern. Lilac nodded and averted her eyes from his, placing distance between them in more ways than one. With a crushing feeling, he accepted they had slipped into those roles the moment their lips broke apart.

______________________

A/N:

“This can't happen again.”

Narrator: It did.

Ahhh! Thank you for reading this. I couldn’t move on in the series without writing this. I had been thinking about it for a long time. So it was 100% self-indulgent and maybe a little AU. My reasoning is that Ethan always says, “We can’t.” And then like two scenes later he’s contracting his previous lies lol.

Anyway, thank you! And thank you to @aestheticartsx​ for helping me with this mess!

Love you guys!

P.S. I am so sorry if you tagged me in a fic and I haven’t reblogged. I will dedicate this week to catch up <3

________________________

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[singular-braincells]

i just wanted to thank all of y'all for nearly 100 followers and i'll probably do something special for it (maybe a Q&A? idk come up with something dw)

school is dumb and i hate it here stressing about college applications is also wack

i've always wanted to try my hand at the fluff alphabet so i hope this isn't too ooc or bad

kageyama tobio A-Z fluff alphabet

[a]ctivities: what do they like to do with their s/o? how do they spend their free time with them?

kageyama would absolutely love love love to play volleyball with you. it doesn't matter if you're a professional or don't know what a recieve is, if you show interest in playing it with him he will be just so over joyed (of course without showing it very much)

his favorite thing to do with you that's not volleyball is going out for hikes or walks in the park. just being able to go outside and enjoy the weather is a good stress reliever for him. you two don't even have to talk very much. if you want to ramble about your day or about the latest tv show you've watched, he's gonna listen but if you want to just be together and walk in silence he's totally down for that too.

[b]eauty: what do they admire about their s/o? what do they think is beautiful about them?

one physical trait kageyama likes is your voice. he would love your voice no matter what. if you're one to talk about anything and everything he is low-key relieved because he cannot carry a conversation for the life of him but if you prefer a comfortable silence he's down for that too.

a personality traits he admires is patience. he knows he isn't the sharpest tool in the shed and isn't one to pick up hints easily. so if you bare with him and help him maneuver through life and its obstacles he will definitely fall harder for you

[c]omfort: how would they help their s/o when they feel down/have a panic attack etc.?

to be honest, I can see Kageyama not knowing what to do the first time his s/o has a panic attack or feels awful. he's just very inexperienced with relationships in general, but he's gonna try to do some research and ask his upper classmen teammates for help. the second time it happens he'll be there for you. he is gonna provide all the physical and emotional support that he can.

[d]reams: how do they picture their future with their s/o?

once he has a stable schedule, kageyama sees the two of you living in a large condo home living the domestic life. making breakfast together on days that the two of you have off, movie nights with popcorn and tea, doing cosmetic face masks together (despite Kageyama having the clearest skin known to mankind), and just being able to take the time to cherish one another.

[e]qual: are they the dominant one in the relationship, or rather passive?

at the beginning of the relationship Kageyama's gonna be more passive just because he a) doesn't want to accidently hurt you and b) he does not have the slightest clue what to do in a relationship. as the relationship goes on he's gonna be a little bit more dominant, but he will always ask to do something (like ask to give you a hug or for kisses etc. because he is a polite boy 😤)

[f]ight: would they be easy to forgive their s/o? 

it honestly depends on what the who's at fault. if you're clearly at fault kageyama is gonna expect you to apologize and own up to it, but if he's the one at fault he will apologize as soon as he realizes it. he doesn't want to lose you in some dumb argument so he'll quickly and sincerely apologize, though it might take just a little bit of time for him to realize.

[g]ratitude: how grateful are they in general? are they aware of what their s/o is doing for them?

kageyama is super duper duper grateful for all that you do for him. waiting for him to come home at night with late practices, him leaving at dawn for early practice, all of it. he doesn't know how to verbally say "thank you so much for all that you do I don't know where I'd be without you" but he'll show it through actions. he's gonna get you a cute little trinket he sees at the airport when he's away or gets you that thing you've been looking at for some time without you realizing.

[h]onesty: do they have secrets they hide from their s/o? or do they share everything?

Kageyama doesn't share too much, only if you ask. he's not very good at opening up and he's very scared of abandonment. just be patient with him and let him open up at his own pace. he'll tell you everything just not at all once

[i]nspiration: did their s/o change them somehow, or the other way around? like trying out new things or help them overcome their personal problems?

he's become more aware of how to talk to people and the general aura he gives off. he’s learned to be vulnerable around you, to lean on you, and love you. it scares him that on any day you could pack your bags and leave him, never looking back. he’s scared of making mistakes and ultimately destroying the most wonderful thing that the two of you have so sometimes he overthinks every action. you’ve taught him to go with the flow, that it is okay to mess up. mistakes happen and that is okay. you’ve soothed and ease the insectuities that kageyama has. he can’t thank you with words because he’ll stumble and stutter but he can thank you with a gentle hand squeeze and a hug that conveys “I don’t ever want to let you go” 

[j]ealousy: do they get jealous easily? how do they deal with it?

again, baby boy kags has abandonment issues from Junior high so he's gonna be at least a little bit jealous, but not to worry! he trusts you 100 percent to make the right choices and to be loyal. he wouldn't really get that jealous unless someone was blatantly flirting with you. you notice his jealousy when he gives off the iciest glare to whoever is flirting with you. unless you look visibly uncomfortable he won't step in since he knows you can handle yourself. but if you needed him to step in, he would in a heartbeat. he deals with his jealousy by pouting at you and glaring at the other person until you give him all the affection he wants.

[k]iss: are they a good kisser? what was the first kiss like?

there is a 100 percent high chance that Kageyama has never been in a relationship before, let alone kissed someone. he's gonna be very inexperienced so if you take the lead until Kageyama feels more comfortable with it he'll be grateful. but fyi this boy learns and he learns fast don't worry ;)

your first kiss was an accident (i know cliché but hear me out). the two of you were sitting together shoulder to shoulder studying for midterms. you were aiming to give kageyama a kiss on the cheek for getting a question correct on his literature homework, but he moved his head towards you to ask you something about a certain kanji character and bam. that was your first kiss. 

[l]ove confession: how would they confess to their s/o?

kageyama would do the cliché "stick a note in your locker asking you to meet after school on the roof top" but would either fuck it up by a) messing up some kanji so it's unreadable and confusing, b) make it sound like a threat, or c) both. how he wrote it is option c.

you ended up going to the rooftop of the school out of curiosity and you see the dark haired boy standing there with a strawberry milk carton, bag of steamed buns, and a single rose (fun fact: the karasuno boys vbc made him get all of those things because let's face it this boy is hopeless with gifts).

as soon as you meet his gaze, his face turns red in record time. he adorably stutters out that he's got the biggest crush on you and you can't help but accept his heartfelt confession.

[m]arriage: do they want to get married? how do they propose? what would the marriage be like?

he would totally want to get married. he'd propose to you at a really really serenic place at night either at like a picnic at the beach or under the night sky on your condo balcony. your wedding would be small private with just your friends and family. the marriage would just be your relationship before y'all got married just now y'all share a bank account.

[n]icknames: what do they call their s/o?

at the beginning of your relationship, he was used to pet names but as he got comfortable in your relationship he uses some of them. the most common ones he uses are things like "honey", "love", and "babe"/"baby"

[o]n cloud nine: what are they like when they are in love? is it obvious for others? how do they express their feelings?

tobio makes it painfully obvious that he has a crush. he's never experienced these feelings before so he doesn't really know how to handle them so it's very obvious to others that he has a crush (even if he doesn't know himself). the longing glances, the flushed cheeks, the spacing out, the stuttering, it's really really obvious to tell if he's infatuated with someone.

he doesn't really express his feelings very well but he does express it by walking you home after school or after his practice, getting you your favorite drink from the vending machine, and just showing he cares in small ways.

[p]da: are they upfront about their relationship? do they brag about their s/o in front of others? or are they rather shy to kiss etc. when others are watching?

kageyama is definitely more reserved when presenting his relationship. he won't go sucking off your face in front of people, but he doesn't mind the small gestures like hand holding and settling his hand on your waist.

when the two of you first got together, he kept it a secret from his team for months until hinata accidently saw the two of you kissing in the closet. it was only then when kageyama decided to announce to the team that the two of you are dating.

[q]uirk: some ability they have that’s beneficial in a relationship.

okay, he is a god at massages and other things with his hands ;))))). so if your back aches from sleeping weird or sitting at a work desk for too long he will gladly give you a quick massage to relieve some of the pain. because of this you learned some massage methods and tricks to help tobio out when he comes from practices sore.

[r]omance: how romantic are they? what would they do to make their s/o happy? cliché or rather creative?

he's not very romantic himself, but he'll do anything he can to make his s/o happy. most of the things he'll do will either be corny and cliché as hell or they'll be super thoughtful and unique. it honestly depends on who he asks for advice (hint: nishinoya and tanaka are cheesy as hell so do what you want with that info)

[s]upport: are they helping their s/o achieve their goals? do they believe in them?

he will support you all the way with your dreams and goals like you've supported him with his professional volleyball dreams. he can't help you much with writing essays or calculating certain equations, but he'll try his best to give you all the emotional support you need to achieve your dreams.

[t]hrill: do they need to try out new things to spice out your relationship? or do they prefer a certain routine?

i think he'd be more of a routine sort of person, but if you want to do something new he will give it his best shot. he'll do anything to make you happy and who knows, maybe he'll discover something new about himself.

[u]nderstanding: how good do they know their partner? are they empathetic?

when it comes to your niche habits and things you like, he knows them like he knows the back of his hand. y'all saw how fast he memorized those lil volleyball signals, he unconsciously memorized all these small little details about you.

when it comes to being empathetic, he's got the right idea but he's going to come off a little off. the best way to get your feelings across to him is by straight up telling him. he'll learn to notice the small signs you give off when something is off.

[v]alue: how important is the relationship to them? what is it’s worth in comparison to other things in their life

he will value your relationship like he values volleyball. he takes most of his relationships seriously so expect him to put the most effort he can. he'd expect you to do the same.

[w]ild card: a random fluff headcannon.

he saw you taking care of your friend's three year old son once. the way you were so doting and motherly towards him made his heart go doki doki. he realizes how much of a good parent you'd make and after that, he sometimes has cute domestic fantasies about having children with you.

[x]oxo: are they very affectionate? do they love to kiss and cuddle?

kageyama is not very affectionate in public, but in private he will be all over you. he's just more comfortable being cutesy and vulnerable in private with you. he will give you cute forehead / head kisses, snuggle you while the two of you sleep, hold your hand while you're doing laundry, and put his chin on your head while you do the dishes. he's just more baby in general when at home away from the public.

[y]earning: how will they cope when they’re missing their partner?

when kageyama misses you he will look at old pictures the two of you have taken together or pictures he has taken of you when you asked him to over the years that you've been together. these get him through some of the more lonelier times when he's away from you due to volleyball competition. he'll hold a pillow trying to pretend it's your warm self, but it doesn't work too well in the end.

[z]eal: are they willing to go to great lengths for the relationship? if so, what kind?

kageyama is willing to do whatever he can for your relationship. as long as you're his anchor in the storm and treat him with kindness, he's willing to move mountains for you. he just loves you very much and will do any action to prove it to you again and again.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

tapestry 👑 XVII

Warnings: eventual dark elements (tags to be added as fic continues)

This is dark!(king)Steve and explicit. 18+ only.

Summary: King Steven had a wandering eye but you never thought it would fall upon you.

This Chapter: The trial continues.

Note: What’s up all my thot-lovers and barnacles bitches. 💋 😉 We’re still watching some shit unfold here and this trial is gonna get unreallll. But I’m excited to keep going and to have something to feed you thirsty thirsty ho. Just a little longer... erm, I don’t know exactly how long tho.

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply! Love ya!

masterlist

In the days following King T'Challa's testimony, several witnesses were placed on the stand. Though their authenticity was questionable, they were heard with the same silent awe as the first to speak.

Prince Loki had brought a physician from Asgard who had served the royal family since his father, Odin's, reign. He swore to have examined Eleanor before she was sent away to the marry Steven and had found her virtue broken, though the document presented did attribute this to unknown but surely innocent circumstances. What else could he have written when the king's signature would seal the declaration?

Next, a chamber maid who served Eleanor when she was a princess still. The woman had no papers or letters to present and if she did, she'd not have known their contents. 

She stated that Eleanor doted upon her betrothed and spoke of her future as queen with girlish cheer. That she did blush when the prince's name arose. That the princess did divulge that she had "surrendered her heart and body" to him and that she did speak of them as husband and wife already.

Ellis presented several more documents provided by Asgard and its royal prince. A copy of the original betrothal, several letters which upheld its validity over the years between Odin and T'Chaka. 

And the most damning, a letter in Eleanor's hand addressed to her mother written after her departure to marry Steven. In it, she spoke of her lingering feelings for the other prince and her hesitation to marry the second. Though she did not question the union outright, her youthful fears were presented as knowing deception.

You watched, barely able to conceal your despair. The pit deepened in your stomach as you watched the queen stand before her accusers and her judges, head held high despite all she faced. You knew you could never be her; you could never face anything so terrible as such and indomitable force. She hadn’t slipped since her first day on trial. Her shoulders remained still, her figure straight, head held high.

And when the issue of Eleanor’s marital fealty was thoroughly dissected, the court turned its attention to the accusations of treason. On the fifth day, Lord Ellis called forth Ladies Mabel and Diana. Mabel was first, her face drawn and sullen. She was led to the stand as Ellis asked her to tell the truth and nothing more. Marion bent her head as she began to pray quietly beside you.

“Lady Mabel,” Ellis began as he looked up from the podium. “How long did you serve Eleanor of Asgard?���

“Near five years now, my lord,” Mabel answered in a small voice. 

“Mmm,” He looked down and his eyes roved over his notes. “And it was her who did request that the king arrange your marriage to Lord Wilson?”

“It was.” She replied as she brought her hands together before her. “The queen always did see her ladies married well.”

“So you would say she was generous? She has sewn no ill-will between you?”

“I would say that,” Her voice quavered and she looked behind her to the audience. She stared at her husband as a hush took over the court. “She was ever kind to me and all the ladies.”

“All her ladies?” Ellis nodded and flicked the corner of a page with his thumb. “Every single one?”

“Well…” Mabel’s voice trailed off.

“To return to my previous point, as she was so courteous, you would have no reason to speak unkindly of her would you, to lie about her for any reason?”

“No, I w-would not,” She looked to the queen and gulped. Eleanor stared at the dimming window. “I wouldn’t lie, my lord.”

“And so when you say she was kind to all her ladies, would you include in that one Lady Y/N?” You fidgeted at the mention of your name. You hid your face as you listened.

“I only ever saw the queen treat her well.” Mabel said.

“Even as she did meddle with the lady’s saddle on a hunt this past autumn?” Ellis suggested.

Mabel was silent. She gripped the podium before her and hung her head. She did not respond.

“Lady Mabel?” Ellis urged and Mabel shook her head. “Were you aware that Eleanor of Asgard did arrange for this lady to have a wild horse and an altered saddle that day?”

Mabel sniffed and didn’t move. The court waited as her shoulders began to shake. She nodded at last. You could hear her weeping.

“Lady Mabel, you must answer aloud so that the clerk may record your response.” Ellis chided.

“Yes…” She spoke softly at first and lifted her head. She gulped harshly and cleared her throat as she wiped away her tears. “Yes, I did know.”

“And how was it that you knew of the queen’s ploy?”

“She told me of it.” Her voice threatened to crack as she wrung her hands.

“When did she tell you of it?”

“After...after the incident.”

“What incident?” 

“The one in which the lady was thrown from her horse,” The tears bubbled again and Mabel hiccuped. “She didn’t mean her any harm. She didn’t. She only meant to frighten her.”

“And did you ever know Eleanor of Asgard to have any ill intent for anyone else?” Ellis asked.

“I…” Mabel couldn’t answer as she sobbed.

“Did she ever wish harm upon her husband, perhaps?”

Another sob. “I… Only…”

“You may tell the court. You will not be punished for your honesty.” Ellis coaxed. “Did she ever devise any other schemes? Against her own husband?”

Mabel was quaking. She could barely form words as her body rattled. “She… she… she did… send… poison to the king….” She spoke so quietly and yet you heard her clearly, as did the entire audience. 

“And how do you know it was her?” Ellis led her as he leaned on his podium eagerly.

“She… told… me.” Mabel swayed as she clutched her hands together. The queen pushed her shoulders back.

“And why should she tell you that?” Ellis wondered.

“Because she told me everything. Because…” She gasped. “Because… she was…my friend.”

“And did she tell you of why it was she would do such a thing? Of why she would conspire to kill her own husband?”

“Sh-she hated him,” Mabel stuttered. “She said so very often and when he came to her as a husband did, she did deny him because… she could not stand to lay--to lay next to him.” Her voice squeaked and she shuddered as she covered her tear-stained cheeks. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”

She kept her face buried as she repeated the words over and over. She shook so much you were sure she would collapse. The court was deathly and still. Shadows fell over the figures at the centre of the scene as the sun began its descent.

“Please, take the lady away. She is much overwhelmed,” Ellis feigned concern as he touched his chest. “I think that is quite enough, Lady Mabel.”

You looked to the box where the king sat. Steven’s eyes were bright as he watched a guard escort Mabel from the stand. He leaned over to T’Challa who turned to whisper in his ear. Prince Loki did not betray his thoughts as he looked down his long nose. You were startled however to find that he looked upon you. His cheeks twitched as if he would smirk before he drew his attention away.

“If the cardinals and your highnesses should allow it, I should think a brief recess would be in order.” Ellis intoned. “And we shall have our final witness of the day thereafter.”

“I should think it a wise idea,” The cardinal who seemed the leader of the party agreed as he rubbed his large stomach. “A day such as this has been most taxing.”

The royals nodded in approval and Ellis announced the recess. No one moved until the queen was led from her podium and out the side door. You watched her go, her steps as long and certain as any day she had sat the throne. 

You looked away as the door closed behind her. King Steven was the first to rise and the entire chamber was upon their feet within second. He searched between the bodies until his gaze fell upon you and he gave a slight nod. You did not look away; could not for you feared what should happen if you were to offend him. If you were to fall from his favour.

Surely, if these were the consequences for a queen, you could not meet any better.

👑

You were due for another day on the bench. You were tired and did not relish any further testimony. You found it hard not to think of Mabel and her distraught confessions. And Diana who followed with a similar display. Both had implicated their queen and friend, though both those titles would seem to have been relinquished.

You walked with your father. He had come to you early that morning to deliver a letter from the king. You had been want to set it aside and continue to the court if only to have it done with. He did not allow your delay and reproached you until you opened it. He read it after you did and grinned at the king’s still infatuated words. You smiled if only to conceal your distress.

As you swept through the halls beside him, you were quiet. You let him rant until he was silent and clung to the lull of his words. You did not dare fuel his lectures of your future; more importantly, of his. There would be much talking that day, as there was every day.

You turned the corner and came upon another pair in the hall. You nearly faltered as you recognized the dark-haired prince of Asgard and his burly guard just behind him. He stood with his eyes upon a large hanging. As you came upon him, you curtsied and your father bowed. Prince Loki did not look away from the map painted on elk skin.

“Lord Willis,” He said without a glance. “My lady. I assume you are upon the same path as me.”

“We are, your grace,” Your father answered and you tried not to squirm at his weaselly tone. 

“Oh, but they do always find reason to delay, so why hurry?” He mused. “Do you see these mountains?” He pointed to the skin.

“I do, your grace,” Your father turned to look alongside the prince. You peeked over his shoulder but did not near the Asgardian.

“Do you know of their history?” He asked. “Of who does claim them?”

“Why, your grace, I do see that they bear the crest of King Steven and his ancestors on this map.” Your father answered diligently.

“Upon this map, yes,” The prince smirked and you squinted at the pointed range upon the skin. “But not every map.”

“Your grace, is that not The Beak?” You ventured. “The mountains that house your ancestral temples? Those carved by the unblessed?”

He slowly turned his head, at last looking away from the map. He grinned as he stepped back and approached you. “The lady is right. Well-educated, I assume. And do you know then the answer to my first question?”

“The mountains are claimed by many; our people, yours, and those of Wakanda.” You replied. “Though for how many times they have changed hands, it cannot be said to who they belong.”

He nodded and lifted a brow. “Clever lady, indeed. You do prove the rumours true. At least those ones.”

“Rumours?” You repeated.

“I do know of you, my lady,” He affirmed. “And your alleged part in my purpose here.”

“And you would believe the whispers of a court you are unfamiliar with?” You blinked and pressed your lips together before you righted yourself. “Your grace.”

“I do not, but I know there is truth beneath each lie, merely contorted and exaggerated for effect,” He swept a strand of his dark hair back. “And the same can be said of the truth. That it can be bent to fit our needs.”

“Perhaps,” You said evenly as your father returned to your side.

“The line between truth and falsity is thin and not so firm as we should like it,” Loki reflected. “As many lines which constrain us prove to be.” He lifted his chin and looked down at you. “Shall we walk together then? Since we do seek the same destination?”

“As you wish, your grace,” Your father answered keenly but the prince didn’t so much as look at him. You bowed your head in ascent and Loki turned to walk beside you.

“Your grace, are you enjoying your visit?” Your father cajoled.

“As much as I can, given its purpose,” The prince said dully. 

You walked silently between them as they continued their courtly dialogue. The forced amiability of politicians. You did not miss the prince’s green eyes as they peeked at you. You ignored him and carried on. He must have loathed you for your role in his sister’s current circumstance, though he seemed happy enough to sit and watch it unfold.

“Well, my lord, it seems I must be away,” The prince turned as you came upon the doors to the courtroom. “I have lingered far too long. My lady,” He smiled again as he looked to you. “It was… an intriguing meeting. As brief as it was.” He stood straight and resumed his usual cool stature, “Take care.”

You watched him go and took a deep breath as he disappeared through the door. Your father squinted at you as you crossed your arms. He kept away from the other lords and ladies who waited without.

“You do not like the prince?” He asked.

“I haven’t reason not to,” You said. “I find him… cordial enough.”

“But you do seem perturbed by him.” Your father insisted.

“I do find it hard not to wonder how he can be so jaunty as he watches his sister face such an unfortunate ordeal.” You countered. “How he can let his sister stay silent as she is faced with such accusations..”

“His sister did refuse his aid,” Your father lowered his voice and beckoned you away from the crowd. “The Prince and his kingly brother did come with an offer. If she would admit to her crimes, she would be met with exile. Upon their bearing and that of her name, she would walk away to isolation and a slight taint.”

You frowned and stared dumbly at your father.

“But she does insist upon her innocence and if she cannot prove it, then she will face whatever fate the See decides upon.” You father shrugged. “So is the lot of a woman who cannot mind her place.”

“Is it?” You growled.

“It is,” He smirked at you sourly. “On women who would try to outpace a king; who would toy with him and deny his will.” You bristled as he stepped closer. “Remember this, daughter. Remember that if you should fall, we will all fall with you.”

“But you could’ve never risen without me,” You rebutted.

“And we will not remain unless you appease him,” Your father hissed. “So keep him happy and we’ll all be content.” His nostrils flared as he scowled. “And we might just keep our heads long enough to revel in it.”

Your father drew away suddenly and looked over your head. He smiled and you turned to follow his gaze. Lord Ellis and several other council members approached. You stepped back as you were quickly forgotten.

“My lords,” Your father greeted. “I see you are well this day.”

You backed away and shook your head at your father’s act. He was truly repulsive. You joined the other ladies who waited along the wall and clasped your hands together. Even if he was entirely false, your father had played the game well. He knew the court and its deceits better than any. And he was right. 

The only way to save yourself was to keep King Steven happy.

[malfoymuch]

nyctophile [draco malfoy]

Pairing; Draco x Reader 

Genre; Fluff

Word Count; 1240

A/n: I wrote this because I love “lost-words,” and I love the moon. So, I wrote both together, so I hope you enjoy. I was wondering if anyone wanted my last fic, “The Peculiar Girl,” to be a series? Or should I create one? Thank you and I hope you stay safe!!!! 

It was therapeutic. 

An escape you relished in; complete solitude with no one but the stars above. To welcome your presence, silently. As billions of lights flickered down upon the world, the moon in all its glory, radiating such a fair glow to the world below. 

The cool breeze that passed, enough to send a quick shiver down one’s spine if they lingered. 

Even in the worst of days, you could look up into the darkness, and felt warmth. Despite the colder weather, the night had just been more relatable. 

The sun was appreciated for everything, the world’s orbit, the growth of plants, the smiles it can emit, the laughter that soon follows. But the moon was briefly taken into account, for the imperfections of its craters, and it’s “bleak” color. 

Oh, but if they had only looked closer. 

For the moon was more beautiful than the sun and with it, contrasted the darkness. Even with its imperfections, it gleams with beauty and all its various phases. Not only that, but it stands alongside its friends, all the stars in the cosmos. Truly, the moon deserved so much more. 

Any distress seemed to vanish as you strolled through the garden, knowing very well you could be caught. Honestly, you were shocked that you hadn’t been caught years beforehand, but you knew that someone was watching. Whether it was a professor, a student, or even the Dumbledore himself, but you could feel it. 

Now, as a fifth-year, you were shocked when a letter had been gifted to you in regards to being chosen as a prefect. Its responsibilities being listed within the context and procedures taken for certain matters. 

Truth be told, you weren’t exactly doing your job as a prefect, most of the time. What could you say, the moon entranced you, it was alluring. 

And tonight, it was a full moon. 

With its large, blue ring encircling it. The existence of the color around it was a question that had been plaguing your mind for as long as you could remember. 

As you finished your quick check-around, you winded up back to the courtyard, where you sat and admired the sky with your undivided attention. 

Today hadn’t been completely hectic, in your opinion. Fifth-year was a vital year for all Hogwarts students, and most were completely swamped and engulfed in stress, exams seemed to be all that mattered. 

That, and gossip. Which never seemed to end, when it came to the students in Hogwarts. And lately, everything had revolved around by once again, Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy.

A Chosen One and a Prevailing Prince. 

It seemed to fit, segregating once again, between who was “good” and who was “bad.” It seemed that Slytherin had developed poor character over time, whether it may be from one in the house or its prejudice. In this case, you couldn’t choose a side, unlike most. 

You hadn’t really known either of them remarkably well. Only what rumors had suggested and all you could hear from an earful away. 

From all that you heard, it seemed both were much similar then people have realized. In a way, they are both misunderstood and falsely conveyed themselves within society, for whatever reasons. To be frank, the only two reasons they must hate each other is because of their house, and the way they both rubbed off each other. Clearly wrong. 

Closing your eyes, you slowly inhaled, enjoying the cold, refreshing air. A bit of mist had begun to form, bringing a small smile on your lips. 

“I assume you’ve finished your rounds?” A voice interrupted your thoughts, the ends of your mouth only lifting. “You are correct, how pleasant for you to finally join me. I was wondering when you were going to come out.” 

You didn’t need to look behind to sense a sudden emotion of embarrassment and horrified. 

“B-believe me, I most certainly… was not staring at you.” The voice defended, stumbling over his words. The statement made a soft giggle pass through your lips, as you bent over to delicately trace the veins of a fallen leaf, before turning around to see him. 

Draco Malfoy. 

“Oh, Mr. Malfoy. How delightful for you to join me, have you finished your rounds for the night?” You inquired, a small smile formed as you saw the pink in his ears. 

“I-I’ve done most, I was going to do a few more before I saw you,” Draco replied, coughing. “May I ask, what’re you doing here?” 

“I’m always here, if you must know.” You started, fumbling with the leaf in your hand, “I’m simply intrigued with the night.” 

“What’s so grand about the night?” The question came out a bit harsher than Draco expected, but nonetheless, curious. 

“Many things,” you spoke out in a whisper, tilting your head up. “Take a look for yourself.” And in that moment, he did. 

And the words within Draco, left him. All his questions. 

As he gazed at the inky canopy of darkness, dabbed with an infinite amount of glistening stars, swirls of slight colors somehow appearing on the midnight canvas. 

You took the time to stare at his expression, his sudden absorption in the sky, it was at that moment you felt like you knew him. He seemed just as fascinated with the sky as you did. And for a minute, you wondered how quaint he was, perhaps just as much as you? 

Did he also seek freedom? 

Isolation. 

A moment, where time froze, and all seemed all right. 

“You seem to be enjoying this,” you mocked, finally getting the boy to tear his gaze away from the atmosphere and towards you. “What do you think?” 

“What do you I think?” He repeated. 

“Yes, silly. Of above? What do you think?” 

Draco’s eyes twinkled as the course of light had changed, and shifted to a single, yet powerful beam of light towards you. Your figure glowed, and for the first second time that night, he felt hypnotized. 

“It… it’s captivating,” he mustered out, taking another look. “It’s compelling somehow as if it’s--” 

“--Drawing you near.” 

“--Drawing you near.”

You grinned again, watching Draco’s face light up as he laughed. 

“You come out here, every night?” He asked as he slowly approached you. Nodding, you turned your attention fully to him, and a sudden feeling of delightment enveloping you. “Every day, since I could remember. Now that I’m a prefect, it only aids my infatuation… funny enough, you seem to be infatuated just as I.” 

Another smile dawned Draco’s face as he gazed into your eyes, soon noticing that those too, hold pools of universes he was eager to explore. It seemed to be almost nostalgic, the sudden meeting between the two of you. 

“Perhaps I am, and I have you to thank.” As he extended his hand out, he grinned. 

“I don’t think we’ve ever formally introduced ourselves throughout our entire conversation. I’m Draco Malfoy.” A rich laugh came from yours, your hand clasping his in a gentle, delicate handshake. 

“Honor to meet you, Malfoy. I’m (Y/N) (L/N).” 

“Please, call me Draco.” 

“And why should I?” 

“Because we’re well-acquainted now, aren’t we? Both charmed with the sky?” 

“Very well, a pleasure to meet you Draco. I hope we have more of these moments in the future.” 

“Me too, (Y/N).”

Within a single night, both of you had become not only bewitched by the sky… but each other. 

[rosesgonerogue]

Just a Friend

Daminette December Day 1

It wasn’t often that Damian had to deal with the Agreste child, but with both their fathers being such big names, it was inevitable. Agreste was preferable to the Bourgeois brat, but he still reeked of a sheltered life. And now Damian was going to have to put up with him for the next several days while Father discussed business with the elder Agreste. 

“Remind me why Drake couldn’t come instead?” Damian demanded once again. 

“You know the reason,” Bruce sighed. “I was specifically asked to come with one of my sons. But if I come, Tim had to stay behind to keep the company running.” 

“Grayson?”

“He’s standing in as Batman.” 

“Why couldn’t Todd do that? Or come here?” 

Bruce fixed him with a flat stare. “We would either have a slew of corpses, or an international incident on our hands.” 

Damian growled, knowing that his father was right. That didn’t mean that he liked this cursed city. 

They came to the Agreste mansion all too soon, and Damian already dreaded the awkward conversations that awaited. It had been a few years since he’d been forced to associate with the boy, and Damian could only hope he was somehow less sheltered.

The mansion was more ostentatious than ever. It had a way of looming over people that felt cold. He never would have admitted it, but he almost wished his brothers were here to cause chaos and bring some life into the dead house.

To complete the aura, the door was opened by Agreste’s stoic assistant, the one with glasses and a harsh bun. Gabriel was standing staunchly inside with Adrien at his side, green eyes dull.

“Thank you for travelling all this way, Bruce,” Gabriel said in perfect English. “We welcome you and your son.”

“It was our pleasure,” Bruce said with a cordial smile. “Damian was curious why you wanted one of my sons to come, though.”

“We’ve found a rather interesting young designer, and if things work out in our deals, we were hoping your son might consider modelling her designs, potentially taking the brand over to America.”

Translation: Gabriel thought his son was too good for this, so Damian was stuck modelling for an amateur.

Bruce’s smile tightened ever so slightly, knowing that this would be a hard sell to Damian. “We’ll see how these negotiations go first.”

“Very well. Adrien, why don’t you entertain young Damian in your room?”

Damian bristled at being dismissed in such a manner, but before he could do anything, Adrien actually spoke up.

“Actually, Father, I was wondering if I could show Damian around Paris, maybe introduce him to a friend or two?”

Wow, the boy had a backbone now, as well as friends. Interesting. His friends were probably just as rich and sheltered as Agreste, but maybe they would distract one another until they forgot about Damian entirely. One could hope, anyway.

At least Agreste had a seemingly competent bodyguard, Damian noted as he followed the blond out to the shiny car. The whole way Adrian yammered on about his friends, but in particular some girl named Marinette. With all the praise he was giving her, it was a wonder that this Marinette hadn’t cured cancer yet.

Adrien paused in his praises of her long enough that, despite himself, Damian found himself asking, “Is this Marinette your girlfriend? You certainly have plenty to say about her.”

The boy laughed. “Oh no, Marinette if just a friend, my first friend, really. You’ll love her, just wait.”

“Tt.” Damian couldn’t help the noise of disbelief as he gazed out the car window. He was expecting and dreading being taken to some tourist attraction, but it appeared that they had arrived at… a bakery?

“Marinette is actually the designer you might be working with. She’s amazing, and this is her family’s bakery.”

Ah, Agreste was likely trying to sell the virtues of the girl so Damian would look more kindly on whatever shoddy designs the girl had come up with. It was a more underhanded tactic than he thought Agreste capable of, and kind of impressive.

The bakery was small, but clearly good quality. Damian had to admit that the food appeared to be comparable with Pennyworth’s cooking. At the counter, they were greeted by a petite Asian woman.

“Oh, Adrien, it’s nice to see you again. Are you and your friend here to see Marinette? She warned us you two might be coming. She’s in her room, you know the way up.”

“Thanks, Mrs. Cheng. We’ll head up there now,” Adrien said, leading Damien deeper into the bakery. Before they made it to the hallway, however, they were intercepted by a hulking bear of a man.

Damian tensed -- he was even carrying a weapon, one of those wooden paddle things that were used to get things out of traditional ovens. This man would be formidable because of his size alone, but--

“It’s nice to see more of Marinette’s friends here. Take this up with you,” he said, setting the paddle down to hand Adrien an entire quiche. “You boys are welcome to have some as well, but make sure Marinette eats a slice. She got a commission, and we’re not sure when she last ate or slept.”

Damian sighed as he accepted a pile of plates and forks. So, she was obsessive like Time as well. This girl already sounded exhausting, but breakfast had been a while ago, and the quiche smelled amazing.

Agreste led them through the bakery and up the stairs as Damian attempted to mentally reconcile what could have resulted in the union of the slight Asian woman and the hulking baker. What he expected, however, was not at all what he got.

“We’re here with food, Marinette,” Adrien called as he stepped into the room.

“I’ll eat in a minute, Mom, I just need to finish this applique,” the girl mumbled. She wasn’t visible yet, hidden behind a massive ball gown.

“Marinette, you have a guest,” Adrien said gently.

“Yes, papa, I’m getting plenty of sleep,” she mumbled.

The dress the girl was working on was quite possibly the most intricate thing Damian had ever seen. The dress appeared to be scarlet silk, the skirt resting on layer upon layer of tulle and crinoline, The body of the dress was patterned with hand-appliqued black lace. Normally the color combination would have been garish, but it was vaguely reminiscent of a ladybug, and definitely worthy of the red carpet.

Suddenly Damian was filled with the need to know more about this girl. He heard her humming to herself before making a noise of satisfaction. “There, I’m officially done, now what did you--”

The girl cut off when she peeked from around the gown, eyes wide as she squeaked, “Adrien, what are you doing here? And who is that?”

He had never had such an absurdly intense reaction before to merely seeing someone’s face and hearing their voice. Her eyes were wide in shock, and they were the bluest eyes Damian had ever seen, complimenting her blue-black hair that looked unbelievably soft. As he contemplated taking that hair out of its pigtails and -- holy infatuation, Batman, Damian was beginning to sound like Grayson. Besides, this girl looked more like a Wayne than Damian himself did.

“Marinette, meet Damian Wayne, one of your potential models,” Adrien said in English, most likely for Damian’s benefit.

“That was today!” the girl exclaimed, in adorably accented English as she scrambled to get off of the ground where she had been kneeling to finish the dress. “I’m so sorry, I got so wrapped up in this commission and lost track of time. I’m Marinette Dupain-Cheng, it’s nice to meet you, Damian.” She finally emerged from behind the dress and held out a hand. It was warm and unexpectedly calloused, but tiny, just like her. She was almost pixie-like, obviously taking more after her mother  than her father.

“It’s a pleasure,” Damian said, shaking her hand longer than was strictly necessary. “This dress is truly a work of art.”

“Oh, you speak French!” Marinette said delightedly. Honestly, he hadn’t noticed he’d switched languages. “My English is okay, but your French sounds amazing!”

“Well clearly your sewing ability surpasses almost anything I’ve ever seen before. Now I can’t wait to see what your fashion line has to offer.” Why was he saying this? Why was Damian smiling in an imitation of Grayson whenever he was near a female?

“Flattery will get you nowhere,” Marinette said, ducking her head to hide her slight blush. “But if you’re going to be my model then I’m going to have to tailor a lot of things to you, so you’re going to have to put up with me for a while.”

“I think I can handle that.”

As Marinette stammered a reply, Adrien awkwardly stood to the side, still holding the quiche. Had… Had Marinette forgotten him? Marinette never forgot him! He was always oddly the center of attention when Marinette was around because they were such good friends! Adrien felt slightly unsettled. He had hoped that Marinette would soften Damian, but he didn’t expect him to smile at her like that.

Throughout the rest of their stay in Paris, Damian found any and every excuse to spend any moment with Marinette. Bruce was curious and slightly suspicious about this turn of events. He expected this kind of thing from Dick, but it was entirely baffling from Damian.

One night when Damian had been out particularly late with Marinette, Bruce decided to wait up. He heard the door opening followed by Damian murmuring lowly in French, and… was that a chuckle? Yes, his son was softly laughing into his phone. The slight smile dropped off of the boy’s face when he met Bruce’s eyes and he murmured, “I’ll talk to you later, Angel.”

Raising an eyebrow, Bruce asked, “Angel?”

He regretted the way Damian instantly snapped into his rigid, emotionless persona. “Is something wrong, Father?”

Bruce was quick to say, “You’re not in trouble, Damian. I’m just worried, you’ve never been in a relationship before, and this all seems--”

“You’re mistaken, Father,” Damian interrupted. “Marinette and I are just friends.”

Bruce nodded and was going to leave the subject there before a small smirk crawled across the boy’s face. “For now, at least.”

Hi! I’m kind of new to this community, but you can call me Rose! Or Rogue, whichever you prefer! I found this pairing just a while ago, and when I saw the prompts for Daminette December, I got so freaking excited! I don’t do a lot of romance writing, so this is kind of an experiment. I want to get better at it, so please, let me know how I’m doing! Unfortunately, not all of the prompts will be this long, I’ve got finals coming up. I’ll try to keep up posting daily, though! 

Taglist: 

@ozmav @daminette-december2019 @maribat-archive

[inwiste]

Day One: Family

A fic for Tolkien Gen Week about Thranduil seeing his father in Valinor :)

Homecoming

His excitement and his dread increased in tandem as Middle Earth fell behind and the Bay of Eldamar came within his sights. Legolas gasped and the other elves on the boat began to whisper excitedly among themselves but Thranduil stayed silent, his fingernails making small scratches in the smooth railing of the ship. 

Some, like Arwen, Elladan, and Elrohir knew what to expect when they docked in the bay, as Lady Celebrían had sailed hundreds of years beforehand and their adar Elrond left Middle Earth after Sauron’s ring was destroyed. Others had family long departed whom they hoped to see among the small crowd amassed on the docks and nearby land. Thranduil? Thranduil did not know what would be waiting for him, or rather, who would be waiting, if anyone. Years of disappointment and loss had made him cynical and bitter to outsiders, though he loved his son and his own people openly. 

The temptation for him to retreat into his cold facade to protect himself from the inevitable sadness he would feel was nearly irresistible, that was, until he felt a gentle hand rest on his arm. Thranduil looked over to see his son staring at him, concern shining in his onyx eyes. The long days on the boat under the hot summer sun had tanned Legolas’ tawny beige skin while his own sandy complexion was tinged with pink and tingled. He felt a twinge in his heart at the sight of him, as he was reminded of Legolas’ naneth and his beloved wife Amdirchan. His loose blonde hair fluttered in the wind and tickled his cheeks. He sighed and half-heartedly pushed it out of his face only for it to fall in front of his eyes once more. Thranduil growled in frustration and reached up to grab the stray locks only to feel his son’s nimble fingers threading themselves through his hair and pulling it back into what felt like a long braid. Once done, Legolas stepped back by his side, his own inky black hair tied back in the simple warrior braids he had worn for thousands of years. 

“What is bothering you, ada? Every other elf is celebrating but you have been lost in thought for a great deal of this journey,” Legolas said, his voice was light and his lips curled into a small smile as he finished speaking. “It is too late to jump off the boat and swim back. I believe Ulmo would deposit you back here, albeit you would be soaked and it would be unpleasant for everyone involved.” 

“That is true, though I could always simply ask him for a ride to shore and avoid the pomp and circumstance sure to come with our arrival,” Thranduil replied. His son’s teasing remark was not a half-bad idea now that he thought about it, though he was sure that Celeblasdes and Galdis would kill him for it. 

“Is that what this is about? Or is it about something else entirely?” Legolas asked as his voice dropped to a whisper.

He was grateful for his son’s concern but Thranduil did not want to drag him into his own problems, especially ones that spanned back so far. 

“Is it about haru?” Thranduil could not help but look at his son in surprise after that response, confirming the elf’s suspicions. “What about haru, ada?” 

Thranduil had told his son many things about his late haru and haruni, though every story seemed to be tainted with his father’s sadness over their deaths. It was impossible to know if they had been reborn, and even then, it was said that many elves were never the same and the idea was widely believed despite the lack of evidence corroborating this claim. Haruni had died in the early First Age in an orc attack while his own ada was very young, while haru had been killed during the War of the Last Alliance. His ada had seemed at peace with haruni’s death, though haru’s death was one that he was never able to bring himself to discuss. When Legolas became curious about his family history, he went to Celeblasdes and Galdis for answers about his late haru, as it was hard for his ada to talk about him without tears spilling from his eyes. 

“Where is Gimli?” His father changed the subject with little to no tact, though he wished to take his mind off of his father and saw it as his best option. 

“Erestor is telling him about the times he visited Belegost while Glorfindel braids Gimli’s hair. He has not killed him yet, so I assume that he does not mind the elven braids being woven into his hair as we speak.” Legolas lowered his voice for a moment, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “He wants to look nice for Lady Galadriel,” his son whispered, grinning. 

The dwarf had been infatuated with the Lady since he met her in Lothlórien over a hundred years before. The mention of her name was enough to make him blush while he fixed the beads in his beard regardless of what company was already in his presence. It was rather entertaining. Thranduil shook his head and laughed at the memory of his antics, though he quieted quickly when the elves on the ship began to whisper excitedly once more as the ship rocked and the shore came closer. Legolas frowned at the sight of his father so disturbed, as while he had his suspicions about the source of his sadness his father would not tell him what it was. 

Another moment passed before Thranduil sighed and bowed his head, catching his son’s attention. “It is about your haru, ion nin,” he murmured. “I cannot help but wonder if he will be among the elves there to greet us upon arrival.” He had prayed for his father to be released from the Halls of Mandos in a timely fashion, though he did not know if said prayers were answered. Faith in the Valar besides Yavanna had always been in short-supply for him. 

Still, a part of him could not help but hope that his father had returned from the Halls and was waiting for him like Thranduil had waited for his father to come home despite knowing that it would never happen. 

He was shaken out of his musings by a pair of arms wrapping around his waist and Legolas resting his chin on his shoulder. “I believe he will be there, ada. If not, haru shall be there eventually and we will be there to support him,” his son said. 

Perhaps Legolas was right. They would find out soon enough, as the ship had just pulled into the bay and the harbor was within their sights. It was impossible to tell if his father was there, as the crowd on the docks and the surrounding shore was massive and he could only pick out a few familiar faces in the crowd. Gil-Galad stood on the shore with Vórime as well as Elrond, Celebrían, Galadriel, Celeborn,  and-

Thranduil’s heart leapt into his throat and he choked back a sob at the sight of his father’s long silver hair.

“Is that haru?” Legolas asked, his eyes also fixated on the figure making his way through the crowd of elves to the edge of the docks. 

“Yes, that is your haru and my adar, Las,” Thranduil responded with a smile. The ship docked and elves rushed off and into the embrace of family and friends. Gimli walked in the direction of Galadriel while Erestor was swept into a teary-eyed embrace by his sister and the children of Elrond were reunited with their adar and naneth. 

Once the exodus of elves from the ship had slowed, Thranduil and Legolas departed the vessel and stood on the dock, unsure of how to approach Oropher until the elf took the first step. He walked up to Thranduil but remained silent, a blank expression on his face as he examined the two elves before him. Tears welled up in his eyes as he took in the sight of his son and grandson standing before him and he shook his head before tearfully whispering “ion nin.” 

Thranduil let out a sob and ran into his father’s arms, fully breaking down when Oropher carded his fingers through the long silky hair and undid the braid from before. “Ada, you’re here. You’re alive,” he cried, barely aware of his son joining the embrace and rubbing his free hand on his father’s back. 

“I am so sorry, ion nin. You and our people paid for my mistake in the war and I cannot begin to apologize. I did not want to leave you, but-” 

“I know, ada. I know,” Thranduil responded. When his tears dried, he pulled away from his father and wrapped an arm around his son who moved closer to him. “I want to introduce you to Legolas, your grandson.” 

 Oropher smiled at Legolas who quickly reciprocated, clearly excited to meet his haru. “I am honored to meet you, Legolas. The tales of your valor reached Valinor soon after the end of the War of the Ring, and I was beyond proud to hear that my grandson was helping save the world,” he said smoothly, though his eyes reflected the mixture of nervousness and excitement he felt. 

Thranduil watched his son smooth out his braids and brush invisible dust off of his clothes before finally summoning the courage to respond. “Thank you, haru. It was the culmination of the effort of all elves, men, dwarves, and other beings that made it possible for us to finally bring Mordor to its knees.” 

 Oropher moved closer to Legolas and tentatively wrapped an arm around his shoulder, smiling in happiness when the other elf moved closer. “Tell me all about yourself, young one. It is a long walk back to my talan,” he said. Needing no further encouragement, the elf launched into one of his favorite stories about his childhood while his haru listened attentively, occasionally looking back at his own son. Thranduil found himself unable to wipe the smile off of his face. For the first time in his life, he felt completely at peace. 

@tolkiengenweek

[hajimes-erect-ahoge]

Postmortem- Chapter 13

Kokichi overthinks his feelings for Shuichi and has a conversation with Rantaro.

ao3

This was bad.

No, it was more than bad, it was terrible, absolutely horrendous.

Kokichi Ouma had feelings for someone.

In the past, it was quite easy for him to relegate these feelings to the back of his brain and pretend they did not exist. In the rare moment that they did rise to the surface of his consciousness he would face them with blunt denial, acting like this silly “crush” of his was nothing but careless infatuation that would die down soon enough.

But now his feelings were staring him in the eye, baring their ugly fangs which threatened to sink into his flesh, rendering him a slave to his emotions.

If his trust issues during the killing game were anything to go by, it was evident that Ouma did not like being out of control of things. He would plan his actions very carefully in order to elicit very specific reactions from the other members of the group, who would play into his hand like puppets. Every action he took was carefully constructed and overthought, so there was no room for uncertainty.

But Ouma’s feelings right now were the epitome of uncertainty.

Love, if he even dared to call it that, was a fickle thing, whimsically swaying its victims to and fro, doing as it so desires. Ouma could take whatever actions he wanted, but he would be pathetically unable to escape the clutches of this “monster” that people called love. He was at its mercy, submitting to his heart’s desires.

Isolating himself did no good- it just made him think of Saihara even more, his absence burning a hole in his heart. But spending too much time with him was dangerous, the warm feeling in his chest blooming, growing until it was unbearable. Any sort of fine medium he tried to find between these two extremes did little to quell his emotions, rather, it made them flourish.

The fact that Ouma had feelings for Saihara was nothing new; Despite how much he denied it in the past, he at least acknowledged the tiniest sliver of a possibility that he had feelings for the other boy. But as time passed and he grew closer to Saihara, his feelings grew stronger as well. They began to dominate his mind, permeating his every thought:

When he went to the dining hall, he hoped that Saihara would be there, kindly waving him over to come sit with him.

When he bickered with Momota, he would purposefully try to gain Saihara’s attention.

And when he went to sleep at night, he wondered if Saihara was thinking of him too.

During the killing game, it has never been this bad. Maybe that was because the crushing weight of trying to end the killing game by himself was resting on his shoulders, taking over his every thought and leaving no room for such idle distractions. Maybe not. Who knows.

But now that the imminent threat of death was no longer looming over his head, he was supposed to be able to think more clearly now. Instead, stupid Saihara just had to occupy his thoughts and be so nice to him even after everything he did during the killing game.

Saihara’s sweet smile that he had reserved only for those close to him, the way he fiddled with his fingers when he was nervous, and the way that Ouma felt his knees go weak every time Saihara looked at him with those unnecessarily long eyelashes- it all made him sick.

And there was nothing he could do about it.

Nothing except resign himself to his fate of suffering from an unrequited love, because there was absolutely no way that Saihara returned his feelings. Not when there were so many better alternatives available to him.

First of all, there was Akamatsu, the goody-two-shoes bundle of sunshine that tried to unite everyone together against the mastermind- a foolish move, really. She was the first to be by Saihara’s side during the killing game, and left a lasting impression on him after she died. Everything suddenly became “Akamatsu this” and “Akamatsu that” as Saihara struggled to find himself now that he was left alone.

She had been the perfect sacrifice for Saihara’s character development, her own character being reduced to a martyr that tried to end the killing game but failed miserably so early on. He had idolized her, to an unhealthy extent, almost, and did everything he could to make her proud. Of course she would be his first choice over anyone else and, given the opportunity, he would probably abandon Ouma in order to be by her side.

There was also Momota, who had been Saihara’s companion for the remaining duration of the killing game. Momota had essentially replaced Akamatsu, as the two were nearly one in the same: Both were overly optimistic, natural-born leaders with a sense of confidence that they could only hope would rub off on Saihara. Also, they both hogged most of his attention, leaving so little for Ouma to have to himself.

Momota had been, and still was, Saihara’s best friend, and Ouma couldn’t help but insult him out of jealousy, wishing that it had been him instead. But he was a good-for-nothing liar, so it was no wonder why Saihara had chosen Momota over him.

In short, there was essentially no way that Saihara would return Ouma’s feelings, not when he had so many better options available. The thought made Ouma’s heart sting, but as long as Saihara was happy he couldn’t really complain.

The more pressing issue was how Ouma would suppress these feelings and prevent them from growing. At this rate, he would end up head over heels in love with Saihara, and he absolutely could not let that happen. And if it did happen, he would have to keep it secret.

Eventually, Ouma would be rooming with Saihara, being in his immediate vicinity nearly 24/7. It was too late to back out now, so avoiding the other boy was clearly not an option. He would have to regain the self-control he had lost during the past few weeks, not allowing himself to grow too close to Saihara. It would be hard, but for both of their sakes he would have to do it.

He had to.

~~~~~~~~~~

Ouma groggily woke up, rubbing his eyes tiredly. Blinking the remains of sleep out of his eyes, he immediately recognized that he was not in his room. Suddenly more alert, he quickly scanned his surroundings, registering to himself that he was in the recreation room.

“Oh, you’re finally up.” Ouma's eyes darted around before landing on the figure to his right, who he recognized as Amami.

“Huh?” he did a double take before sitting up, instinctively backing away into his corner of the couch.

“Relax, I haven’t been here too long. Just watching some TV to try and get my mind off of things is all.” Amami replied, noticing Ouma’s confusion. “You were here when I got here so I just let you sleep.”

Ouma looked down, noticing that he was covered with a green fuzzy blanket. He assumed Amami draped it over him, because he didn’t remember falling asleep with a blanket, whenever that was.

“What time is it?” Ouma asked, still a bit dazed.

“It’s 9:00 in the morning.” Amami glanced at the clock under the TV, then back at Ouma. “Did you sleep here all night?”

“I think so, I…” Ouma’s brows furrowed as he slowly recollected the events of the night prior.

Him and Saihara had been hanging out in the recreation room late at night, as both of them tended to be night owls. After Saihara had excused himself to go to bed, Ouma sat down on the couch to watch TV, not really feeling that tired yet. But apparently he was more tired than he thought, because he passed out on the couch.

“I was here with Saihara last night, and went to watch some TV after he went to bed, so…” Ouma looked up, noticing that Amami was looking at him with a slight smirk. Ouma frowned. “...What?”

“You and Saihara-kun have been spending quite a lot of time together lately, haven’t you?” Amami asked a bit smugly.

Ouma flushed, feeling his face begin to heat up even at the mere mention of Saihara’s name. He knew where this conversation was going and he wanted nothing to do with it.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Ouma huffed, throwing the blanket off of himself dramatically and going to stand up, only to be stopped by Amami.

“No need to get all defensive… It was an innocent question, right? Not like you two are dating or anything… Unless?” Amami teased ever so lightly.

Ouma reluctantly sat back down, sighing and crossing his arms indignantly.

“No! We’re not dating!” he pouted.

“Oh, okay then.” Amami mindlessly tapped his chin with his finger, “You two do spend a lot of time together though.”

Amami paused, studying Ouma’s reaction at his next words.

“You totally have a crush on him though.” he said calmly, while Ouma was anything but.

He whipped his head around to make sure that no one could possibly be listening before responding.

“I do not!” Ouma protested.

It wasn’t like him to get so flustered, but he knew that his trademark lies tended to work less well on Amami. All he could think of in defense was blunt denial, hoping that the other boy would drop the subject.

“Calm down, okay?” Amami put his hands up in defeat, trying to calm the other boy down. “I won’t tell anyone. Pinke promise.” He extended his pinkie finger towards Ouma, who looked the other way.

“Fine! But I’m not making a stupid pinkie promise with you. I’m not five!” Ouma stuck his nose up, turning his head.

“Okay, have it your way.” Amami stood up, making a show of looking around the recreation room. “Saihara-kun should be in his room right now, so if I just…”

Ouma’s eyes widened, and before he knew it he was frantically jumping in front of Amami in order to stop him from telling Saihara.

“Wait, fine! I’ll do it!” Ouma reluctantly held out his pinkie finger, to which Amami smiled triumphantly and interlocked his finger with Ouma’s.

“There. Your secret is safe with me!” Amami released his finger, allowing his arms to drop back to his sides.

“Sooooo…” Now it was Ouma’s turn to smirk, his typical persona now back in full force. “Does my beloved Amami-chan have a crush on anyone? Nishishi…”

Amami flushed just the tiniest bit, before the door to the recreation room opened. He turned to see who entered the room, then turned back to Ouma, rubbing at the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Good morning!” Akamatsu beamed, making her presence known in the room.

“Ah, Ouma-kun.” Amami gestured towards Akamatsu, lopping his arm around her waist. “This is my girlfriend, Kaede.”

Akamatsu blushed upon hearing her first name come from Amami’s mouth, as she seemingly never got used to hearing it.

“Still haven’t gotten used to that, eh?” Amami teased, causing Akamatsu’s blush to deepen.

Ouma tuned out the rest of their conversation, processing the information he had just received.

Amami and Akamatsu were together?

That would explain a lot. Ouma had always noticed the two of them spending time together, but he just figured it was because they were the first two out of the simulation and had grown closer to each other. He never knew that they were dating.

But even if Akamatsu was with Amami, that didn’t change the fact that Ouma simply wasn’t appealing enough to Saihara. Not to mention Momota still being in the way.

Of course, a tiny part of his brain was hoping that he was wrong and that Saihara was interested in him, but he did his best to silence this part of himself in order to avoid becoming too optimistic. Can’t let yourself get your hopes up only for them to be dashed, he supposed.

He took one glance at the happy couple, disgusted at how in love they seemed. Once the couple seemed adequately occupied with one another, Ouma slipped out of the recreation room, returning to his own room, where he would spend the rest of the day sulking about how his feelings were unrequited.

At least, the feelings that he thought were unrequited.