#and I maintain that the only real mistake I see

[kaileyrose28]

A Feeling

Note.ᐟ.ᐟ.ᐟ.ᐟ: A Feeling is about an established relationship between Tim and Reader. Reader is the second roommate living in Tim’s apartment—done to split costs, Tim wanted to live independent from Bruce's money. The only problem is the other roommate has no sense of boundaries. A real… nice guy. 

18+ 

Content warning: Feferences to potential rape (described as a ‘feeling’ and ‘vibe’), harassment, not taking discomfort or no as what it is.

6,071 words. Second person POV oriented.

Exhaustion draped over Tim like a weighted blanket, the kind he welcomed after a night like this.

He barely remembered climbing the stairs, barely felt the doorknob turn beneath his fingers. The apartment was dim, save for the soft glow of the kitchen light. Late. Too late to be awake, and yet, he could hear voices. Not loud, but enough.

Noah. Of course.

His voice carried that easy confidence, that persistent hum of someone who thought they were charming. He didn’t have to see to know you were there, just off to the side, probably with that polite smile you always wore when he was like this. The kind that didn’t quite reach your eyes.

Tim wasn’t in the mood to deal with it. His body ached, the adrenaline long since burned through, replaced by a bone-deep fatigue. His jacket felt heavier than it should as he shrugged it off, his boots dragging against the floor.

Noah didn’t acknowledge him right away. He was too caught up in whatever half-assed attempt at flirtation he was trying this time. 

Too close. Always too close.

You laughed, but it wasn’t real. He knew you enough to know that.

Tim could’ve said something. Should’ve. But the words caught in his throat, tangled in exhaustion and the quiet understanding that it wouldn’t make a difference.

You didn’t need saving.

He needed sleep.

His bed was calling, but he felt your eyes on him. That familiar, unspoken thing passing between them. Concern. Worry. Maybe something else Tim didn’t have the energy to name.

He muttered something incoherent—maybe a goodnight, maybe nothing at all—and let his door shut behind him.

Collapsing onto the mattress, he barely had the strength to pull the blankets over him before sleep pulled him under.

You’ve been alone practically all day with Noah, aside from the short time he worked—remotely like you unfortunately—but every moment before that and after that was full of being harassed left and right under the guise of ‘innocent flirting’ or however he puts it. 

So, when Tim all but walked past you and Noah and mumbled something you didn’t catch before he was already in his room, you were honestly a little… unnerved. 

You couldn’t fault him for it though, he was probably exhausted. 

But you didn’t want to be alone with Noah. 

In the simplest of terms, you don’t trust the man. Don’t want to find out what he’s capable of if he reads something wrong, if he’ll take your uncomfortable stance as an invitation. 

They slowly move from the kitchen to the hall—you trying to get to your room, him following you like you aren’t.

“Come on. I promise it’ll be worth it, just one night.” He says, the nickname he came up with for you falling from his lips, his grin promising nothing but… something else. Something not worth anything. 

“I’m busy, you know that. Work, school, I just don’t have time.” You try to be light-hearted, keeping a smile on your face. 

One wrong move isn’t on the table, you don’t want to tempt fate with a mistake.

“Oh, that’s bullshit. We have the same schedule. I’m just asking for one date. C’mon.” He steps closer to you, more in your space then he’s been before. It wasn’t right. It wasn’t what you’ve navigated before. 

He’s maintained distance before, like there was a line between them he hadn’t wanted to cross yet. It was harmless, aside from being emotionally draining. 

But that line, that line didn’t feel like it was as deep as before. It didn’t feel like he had any issues with crossing it tonight. 

It makes your stomach knot up, your heart beats faster, and your skin gets all clammy. 

It took a while for Tim to fall asleep. Too many thoughts, too many... feelings, still churning in his head, mixing with the exhaustion and the lingering memories of the night. When he finally started to drift off, it was to the distant sound of voices beyond his door.    

He could make out Noah's voice easily enough—low, persistent. And your soft, hesitant responses. There was no mistaking the tension in your voice, even through the wood of the door.    

He was tempted to get up, to check on you. But he was just so damn tired.

Your hand moved behind your back as you moved one step at a time down the hall, walking backward—you aren’t comfortable with the idea of turning your back on Noah right now, if you ever have been. 

You grab the first doorknob to come into contact with your hand. 

You push the door open behind you, stepping through before quickly closing the door in Noah's face—it’s rude, it is, but you were just… honestly scared shitless right now. 

The familiar smell in the room tells you it’s in fact not your room. It’s in fact Tim’s. 

You jump when the door shakes with a loud knock against it, followed by Noah's voice. “Fuck, fuck—” you murmur, frantic, booking it towards his bed, which honestly felt like the safest place you could be right now. 

“Tim— Timmy.” You rush his name out quietly, crawling onto his bed.

Tim’s eyes snapped open at the sudden, urgent sound of his name. He was still half-asleep, disoriented for a second, before he realized the voice was... yours. 

What were you doing in here?    

Before he could even fully sit up, he saw you climbing onto the bed. You looked panicked, your breaths coming in short bursts. And then it clicked.    

Noah.    

Tim shifted onto his elbows, quickly more awake. He mumbles your name quietly, his voice rough with sleep. "What's going on?"

You don’t even know how to articulate it to him, or even to yourself. It’s a feeling, you just know Noah wasn’t planning to do anything good or back off. 

He hadn’t tried anything past trying to get you to go out with him, but tonight just felt… different. 

It was terrifying. 

You crawl up his bed the rest of the way, your hand finding his arm in the dark—just to make sure he’s still where you saw him. You sit on your knees, glancing over your shoulder at the door—the dark making it hard but the light seeping through at the bottom helped. 

“I don’t know— I don’t—” It was a little hard to string words together without your voice wavering, it was something else to feel so threatened when nothing outright definitive happened. 

It was just an energy; a vibe Noah was giving off. It was… scary. 

The fear in your voice was raw, and it sent a jolt of adrenaline through him. He shifted closer to you, sitting up fully and pulling you a little closer to him. His hand found one of yours, giving it a reassuring squeeze.    

"Hey, it's okay. You're okay." His voice was softer now, more awake. He could feel the tension in you, the way you kept looking back towards the door.    

"What happened with Noah?" He asked, the soft way he says your name after is as comforting as his thumb brushing over the back of your hand.

You didn’t mean to come in here, to disturb him when he obviously needed sleep—but you're sort of relieved you did, whether by accident or not. 

It felt better to be here with him then alone in your room with the potential of Noah getting in and you being—well, alone. 

When he pulled you closer you slid off your knees, partially on the side of your leg, your knee pressing against his hip. His hand holding yours was grounding, at least a little bit—it brought you back from reeling in your own emotions. 

Making it a little easier to breathe. 

You don’t even know how to answer his question, is it even okay to say you just felt something. That he hadn’t even really done anything physically to warrant your fear, it was just… it felt like he was going to do something. 

“He was just… I dunno. It felt like something.” Your words were hesitant, unsure. It was clear you were trying to process something that didn't quite make sense logically, but was nonetheless real. 

Tim could tell that you were scared, and he knew you well enough to know that it took a lot for you to admit that.    

He shifted on the bed, pulling you fully onto the mattress next to him. You settled against his side, your head on his shoulder. Even in the semi-darkness, he could see the fear in your eyes. He wrapped his arm around you, pulling you closer.    

"You're safe," he tries to reassure you, the words a soft murmur in the dark room. "Just take your time. I'm here."

You sniffle slightly, settling into him when he pulls you onto the mattress next to him. The ease in how he just accepts it, your answer—or lack of a substantial one—and how he just pulled you down and against him like it was so natural to him. 

It was comforting beyond words. 

Your hand moves from his arm to his shirt, grasping it in your fist as you bury your face against his shoulder. Noah was tolerable to an extent, you figured out ways to move around him—but tonight just… it was different. 

You hadn’t been able to get him to leave you be. 

His persistence was normal, but the pushiness was up a notch tonight. Like it was an all or nothing kind of thing, it didn’t feel normal tonight. 

It felt like it was either you said yes, or it’d become a yes soon enough. 

You hold tight to Tim, his reassurances comforting.

Your grip on his shirt, the way you’d buried your face into his shoulder... it was a silent cry for safety. He tightened his arm around you, his hand rubbing soothing circles on your back. He could feel the tension in your body, the fear that lingered in your voice.    

The clock on Tim’s bedside table read 3:00 AM. Too late, or rather, too early. The silence in the room seemed to amplify the sound of your slightly shaky breaths.    

"Do you want to talk about it?" He asks quietly, his chin resting on top of your head.

Everything about him was comforting and safe, it always has been. Since they were younger and stupider—if he ever was stupid, really. His soothing touch and the gentle way he held you close against him made everything feel better, even if nothing really happened. 

You exhale quietly at his quiet question, the weight of his chin on top of your head felt nice—like you were surrounded by him, untouchable in some way. 

Nothing could get to you here, and right now that was what you needed. That inexplicable safety. 

You shake your head after a moment, a short, small movement. Spending all day navigating Noah and trying to get your work done, alone in the apartment with the man. 

Without Tim there. 

Was exhausting, and it was late, far later than you’ve ever stayed up.

He could sense the exhaustion in your body, the way you seemed to sink further into him. You were tired, both physically and emotionally. And you didn't want to talk about what happened with Noah, not right now. 

He could respect that.     

He continued to run his hand gently up and down your back, offering a wordless form of comfort. 

The silence in the room was heavy, but not uncomfortable. It was the kind of silence that came with being completely understood.     

After a few minutes, he said quietly, "You should sleep. It's late."

You had dozed off for a moment, to the feeling of his hand gently running up and down your back and the comfort of his presence. His voice brought you back, the quiet tone stating the obvious, and if it were any other time you would’ve called him Captain Obvious but you’re too tired.

The thought of getting up, moving away from the little bubble of safety he created for you and going to your room felt like… well, it felt terrible. 

To have to walk through the hallway, pass Noah's room—if he even went to his room—to get to yours.

You don’t want to.

You stay quiet for a little, thinking it over—if you have to, you will. You’d never invade his space without being wanted, Noah does that to you and you’d never want to impose that feeling on Tim. Or anyone. 

“Can I stay?” You ask quietly after a moment. 

Your voice was a murmur against the quiet of the room. His grip on your body tightened almost imperceptibly before he answered.   

"Of course," he says softly, your name soft on his lips. "You don't have to ask. You're not invading."     

Tim shifted slightly, moving a little further back onto the bed and pulling you with him. The last thing he wanted was for you to feel uncomfortable or intrusive. 

His bed was big enough for two, and he wanted you to feel welcome here, safe.

You settle with him, his words reassuring. It was nice to know you weren’t invading, or making him uncomfortable in some way. Especially after how you’ve been made to feel, it felt weighted to know there’s ever a possibility that you could do that to Tim. 

You never want to. 

You relax your hands grasp on his shirt, letting your arm stay loose around his torso, your head resting on his shoulder. 

As tense and scared as you’d been when you’d first stumbled into his room by accident, you felt a lot better now. 

With him, with everything he’s done. 

You let your eyes close, listening to the steady beating of his heart and feeling the rise and fall of his chest as he breathes. It has its own subtle comfort to it, knowing he’s right here and that he’s not going anywhere. 

That you aren’t alone, at least for now. 

Tim could feel the tension slowly draining from your body as you settled into the mattress beside him. Your grip on his shirt loosened, arm curling around his torso in a loose hold. He could feel your exhales against his neck, slow and rhythmic.     

He pulled the blanket up further, tucking it around you, making sure you were comfortable. His hand found the back of your head, his fingers gently playing with your hair, offering silent reassurance.     

Sleep was tugging at the edges of his own consciousness, the exhaustion from the night finally catching up to him.

His gentle fingers playing with your hair is what pulls you the rest of the way, the comforting tingles it causes making you fall asleep a lot faster. Your breathing evening out with your body gradually losing its remaining tension as sleep takes you. 

It was almost easy to fall asleep like this, wrapped up in him and in his bed. Far easier than sleeping alone, it was warm and safe and comfortable. 

The faint beat of his heart like white noise even while you’re sleeping, a subconscious comfort even then. 

Everything that’s happened today for you, to you, bleeds away—leaving this mundane, warm comfort behind. 

Keeping you pacified and relaxed, your fingers twitching slightly. 

It’s probably the most comfortable and safest you’ve felt sleeping in a while.

Tim felt your body relax completely as you fell asleep, your breathing becoming slow and steady. Your fingers twitched slightly, and he could feel the warmth of your breath against his neck.    

He watched you sleep for a few minutes, taking in the serenity of your face, the way your features were soft and peaceful in slumber. It was a sharp contrast to the scared and anxious look in your eyes when you had first stumbled into his room.     

Finally, he allowed himself to close his eyes, succumbing to the exhaustion that had been tugging at him. He fell asleep, the weight of exhaustion and your presence next to him easing him into it. 

You were roused the next morning as the sunlight faintly bled through his curtains, you were a bit disoriented and it took you a second to gather your surroundings. And remember what happened last night. 

You don’t move from your spot, which has changed through the night. 

You went from being tucked into his side, his arms around you comfortingly, to being partially on top of him somehow. You aren’t awake enough to want to figure out the logistics of that. 

He’s comfortable too, warm and solid—his breathing rising and falling against you. 

You stay where you are for a while there, somewhere between consciousness and unconsciousness. Too comfortable to fully wake up and too unwilling to move from the warm, comfy spot to try to wake up fully. 

You can hear Noah moving around the apartment though.

Tim’s own sleep is restless, plagued by fragments of dreams and the lingering exhaustion from the night before. The first light of morning seeps into his room, rousing him from sleep. 

He blinks his eyes open, disoriented for a moment. And then he felt you.    

The way your practically on top of him, head on his chest, one of your legs thrown over his. It takes him a second to gather his bearings, to remember what happened last night. The fear in your eyes, the way you sought refuge in his room.    

He can hear noise coming from elsewhere in the apartment as well, assuming it’s likely Noah rummaging about—probably purposefully trying to be loud and obnoxious. 

Why? One can assume the easy answer, you.

You only move when you feel him shifting slightly, your head lifting from off his chest to look up at him—your eyes heavy-lidded and still a little sleepy, but a grin cracks across your face at his bedhead. 

Messy around his face, more than usual anyway. 

You rest your cheek on top of his ribs, one of your hands lifting to brush through his hair. Moving the messy strands off his forehead, smoothing it out as best you can with both of them still lying down. 

You usually don't see this, just him stumbling about in the morning like a zombie. 

“Morning,” you murmur quietly, voice thick with sleep. “Coffee?” You ask, mostly because usually he gets some in the mornings and sometimes you’ll make it for him. 

You’re not a coffee person, don't like the taste. But you always brew some for him when he’s had late nights.

Tim chuckled at the way your eyes were still half-shut, your voice hoarse with sleep. "Morning," he mumbles, his own voice rough.    

He can feel the way your fingers run through his hair, smoothing out the messy strands that have fallen onto his forehead.     

"Coffee sounds amazing," he says, his fingers tracing absent-minded patterns on your back. "I'm too lazy to get up though. You're warm."

You breathe a soft laugh at his words, humming an acknowledging noise as you stay where your laid on him. It’s still relatively early, there’s no reason to rush to get up like most mornings. 

At least you don’t feel the need to rush through the morning here. With him.

You let your eyes slip closed again, enjoying the feeling of his fingers tracing patterns on your back. You’ve slept alone for so long you kind of forgot how nice it is to sleep and wake up with another person, the warmth and comfort it has. 

Maybe more so since it’s him. 

“Just a few more minutes then.” You mumble after a moment, quiet and sleepy. You don’t plan to fall back asleep though, you plan on basking in the feeling of this. 

Of him. 

Of the bubble of safety and comfort this has, unwilling to give it up quite yet and let Noah ruin it. 

Tim hummed in agreement, content to just lie there with you. The world outside their little bubble could wait a few more minutes.

He kept tracing patterns on your back, the rhythmic motion of his fingers on your skin relaxing him in a way he didn't even know he needed. Your body was warm and comfortable against his, and the rise and fall of your back with each breath was almost mesmerizing.

After a few more minutes, he gave you a small nudge. "We should probably get up soon. Noah's up."

You grumble slightly at the small nudge and words that followed, you honestly didn’t want to get up. To see Noah, to be anywhere near him after last night. 

You don’t know what it even was, but it was… lingering, and you aren't sure you're ready to face that directly.

Nonetheless you extract yourself from the warmth and comfort of lying on him, pushing his blanket from off of your lower body—where it’d ended up throughout the night, probably from them moving around. 

You sit up with a silent yawn, stretching your arms above your head. Joints popping a little, small, quiet sounds. You drop your arms after a moment, blinking to clear up your vision before looking at him. 

“So bossy.” You mumble, your voice soft and low.

Tim chuckled at her grumbles, watching as you slowly extract yourself from his arms and the warmth of his bedsheets. You looked adorable, with your sleepy face and messy hair.    

"I'm not bossy. I just know you, and I know you'll fall back asleep if we stay here for any longer." He says, sitting up as well, running a hand through his messy hair.

"Plus, there's coffee to be had." He adds, like it’s obvious.

You scrunch your nose up at that, there’s coffee to be had for him—you’ll probably drink some juice. You look him over instead of responding, eyes roaming his rumpled look. It was adorable, seeing him like this. 

You could get used to it, but you won’t think about that.

“I’m tainting it with sugar.” You mumble, teasingly as you scoot off his bed. Your feet touching the comfy carpet as you stand up, stretching again for good measure—arms up and spine straightening with a soft grunt. 

It was a process, to be honest. 

Usually you have a whole morning routine, but since you’re in his room there’s nothing to go step by step to. 

You’d have to go to your room for all your stuff, and you might. Maybe drag him along just because you’re still a little uncomfortable with the idea of Noah catching you off guard.

Tim groaned as you mentioned sugar in his coffee. "You're evil." He says, glaring at you with mock annoyance.   

He watched as you stretched, your body moving in a way that was both alluring and comfortingly domestic. The room was still half in shadows, the morning sun still growing through the window.    

He stood up from the bed, running his hands through his hair again, trying to make it look somewhat presentable. "You can use my shower, if you want. It's a lot nicer than yours."

You look over at him at his offer, a small smile crossing your face. It hadn’t crossed your mind to ask him if you could, mostly because you were thinking of your own products. 

The idea of smelling like him creeping into your head unbidden, but you push that away quite fast.

“I don’t have a change of clothes, and walking around in a towel seems like the worst idea.” You say with a small shrug. You lean against the side of his bed, mostly because you’re still a little tired and standing up feels like a chore right now. 

You’re still drained from last night, really. 

A warm, nice shower honestly sounds amazing. But the vulnerability of being alone in a bathroom, naked and in the most enclosed spot is also a bit unnerving. 

It’s like Noah’s thrown you off balance somehow, he didn’t even do anything substantial. 

It was just the feeling it gave you.

Tim chuckled slightly at your excuse. He could see the exhaustion in your eyes, and the lingering fear. You wouldn't admit it, but he knew you didn't want to be alone right now.    

"I've got some clean clothes you can borrow. They might be a little big on you, but they'll do until you can grab yours." He says with a small shrug.   

He moved towards you, standing in front of you. "And if it makes you feel better, I'll stay right outside the door."

You look up at him when he comes to stand in front of you, his sweet offers make your heart melt a little. He’s trying so hard to make you feel better, to make you feel safe even if he doesn’t know exactly what Noah did to make you feel so unsettled. 

It was just so… it was everything. 

The fact he was willing to even stay right outside the door for you, just to make you feel comfortable being in a vulnerable position, makes the tension that had been slowly growing bleed out of you. 

He was so sweet, so good to you. 

You’re not sure how it happened, when it started. But she’s grateful.

You lean forward, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him into a hug—trying to convey everything you were feeling through it. It was difficult to articulate just how grateful you were for everything he was doing for you. 

“Thank you.” You murmur quietly, face hidden against his neck.

He instinctively put his arms around your waist, holding you close. He could feel the tightness in your body ease a bit, and he knew you were grateful for his offer without having to be told. 

"Of course, sweetheart." He says softly, pressing a faint kiss to the top of your head. 

"Now go on, take your shower, and get changed. I'll go find you something to wear. And if you need me, for any reason, just shout." He pulls back slightly, looking at your face.

Everything about him made her body all warm and fuzzy with fondness, and love—in a sense. The gentle kiss on your head, the sweet term of endearment, all of it. It settled somewhere in your heart, nestled deep and it made everything feel so much better. 

You meet his gaze, a small smile growing on your face again. You’re not sure what you’d do without him, where you’d be right now if he hadn’t been here—picking up pieces of you that he didn’t even realize needed to be put back together. 

It was everything, it always would be.

“Yeah, okay.” You mumble quietly, nodding a little. He’d be here, in the room still and that’s all that matters. Just a door between them, it made you feel better about it. 

You press a kiss to his cheek lightly before extracting yourself from him and moving to his bathroom. 

Tim watches you walk into the bathroom, shutting the door behind you. He hears the shower turn on, the sound of the water hitting the porcelain walls like a distant roar.

He takes a deep breath, trying to calm his own racing thoughts. He knew he was getting too attached, too invested in you. But he couldn't help it, you always brought out a different part of him. 

Part of him didn't even want to stop the feeling from growing, it was a little intoxicating.    

He shakes his head at the thought.

Focus, Drake.

He quickly grabbed some clean boxers and an oversized T-shirt for you to wear. They would be a bit big on you, but they would do for now until you could grab your own clothes.

He placed the items on the bed, waiting for you to finish up in the bathroom.

It wasn’t long before the shower shut off, and not much longer after that when the door to the bathroom opened and you shuffled out—wrapped in a towel, your hair damp but not dripping, probably from your towel drying it before you stepped out. 

The shower did help, you felt better.

You looked at him standing next to his bed, waiting for you like he said he would. It’s not like you didn’t believe him, it was just relieving to know he really did stay and wait for you. 

Your eyes move off him and onto the clothes on the bed he’d picked out for you, a small smile on your face. 

You move over to him and the bed, picking up the boxers in your hand with a small snort. It was sweet of him, you probably wouldn’t have fit into any of his pants anyway. 

“Turn around so I can change.” You could go back to the bathroom but it’s just quicker to change here.

Tim rolled his eyes at your bossy command, but he turned around anyway. He could feel you moving behind him, the sound of the towel hitting the floor, you getting changed. 

He tried to ignore the mental images that ran through his head, his hands clenching slightly at his sides.

God, he had it bad.

"Are you decent yet?" He asks, still facing away from you.

It took you a minute to respond, mostly because you were honestly amazed at how comfortable brief boxers were. Honestly the most breathable you’ve felt underwear be, or maybe it’s because you don't have a dangler or something. Who knows. 

You look up at the back of his head, breathing a soft laugh. He was sweet, it felt a little juvenile—changing in his room, his back facing you because you’d asked him not to look. 

It’s like being in middle school, alone with your first boy crush or something. 

“Yeah, you can turn back around.” You say, picking up the towel you used and folding it. You’ll clean it with some of the other stuff for him, it’s the least you can do with everything he’s done for you. 

You’re definitely going to make this up to him, even though you know you don't have to.

As soon as you said the words, Tim turned around to look at you. You were standing there, wearing his oversized shirt and boxers. You looked adorable.

He could feel the familiar pull of something brewing between them. It was always there, lingering under the surface, but now it seemed stronger, more intense. 

He tried to ignore that but couldn't help but find his eyes wandering down the length of your body.

"Those look good on you." He says, trying to keep his voice nonchalant.

It didn’t escape your notice the way his eyes seemed to stray, roaming down your body. It didn’t bother you, for some reason—maybe it should have with everything happening with Noah, being blatantly checked out should make you feel weird. 

But it just… didn’t. 

If anything it felt a little nice, to be complimented and looked at by him. By Tim. It didn’t feel gross, it didn’t feel pushy, it didn’t feel like you had to go along with it to get out of it. It just felt good, it felt nice. 

It made you want to smile and twirl your hair or something. 

“Thanks. For all of this, Timmy.” You say softly, smoothing your hands down your sides. The material of his shirt is soft, probably a cotton fabric, it was nice and comfy. 

It smelled like him too, whatever cologne he uses and something just distinctly him.

He could tell you liked wearing his clothes, and that made him a little bit too happy. He loved the way they looked on you, dwarfed by the garment, looking so damn cute.

But he needed to focus, he didn't want to get too lost in his feelings for you.

"It's no problem." He says, trying to sound nonchalant. He walks over to you, reaching out to adjust the collar of the shirt on you.

Your eyes follow him as he comes over before dropping to his hand as he adjusts the shirt, his fingers skimming your skin a little. It was uncomfortable or invading, you didn’t feel like you were being cornered—it didn’t feel like how it’s always felt when Noah got too close to you. 

This was nice. 

You trusted him.

You look back up at him, the way he seemed focused on adjusting the collar of the shirt but you could see the lapse in it. It was obvious he was trying to distract himself from something, although you aren’t sure what exactly. 

It could be the situation, or you. Maybe something else. 

You tilt your head a little, briefly roaming his face as he fiddles with your shirt—catching at his lips for a moment, he was close enough to notice the small details. 

The subtle shape of them, the smoothness. You probably shouldn’t be staring at his mouth, especially because it’s rather obvious even if you tried to be subtle. 

But he was close, and he was touching you, and it was making a lot of things bubble to the surface. 

He could feel your eyes on him, and he knew you were studying him. He could practically feel the weight of your gaze.     

Tim finished adjusting the collar of the shirt on you, but he didn't pull his hands back. Instead, he let them rest on your shoulders, his thumbs brushing gently against the exposed skin on your collarbone.    

He looked down at you, meeting your eyes. "Something on your mind?"

The gentle brush along the skin of your collarbone was honestly unfair, you could call this plain ass teasing if he didn’t look so nonchalant. Like he was just touching you the same way he’d held you last night when you were scared. 

But this was different, you know it is. 

A snort leaves your nose at his question, your lips twitching into an amused grin. Your eyes flicker up to his, one brow raising. He’s got the nerve to ask you if something's on your mind when he just spent a minute fiddling with your shirt collar? 

Classic. 

“Yeah, when’re you gonna shut up and just kiss me already?” You say, feigning it as a question like you were just simply airing out something you’d been thinking. 

You’re a grown woman, he’s a grown man, neither of them need to tiptoe like they’re teenagers. 

Your boldness caught him off guard, but in the best way possible. You were right, they didn't have to tiptoe around each other, they were adults.

He smiled at you, his hands still on your shoulders. "You're something else, you know that?" He says, his voice low and laced with amusement.

Before you can snark back, he leans in and presses his lips gently against yours. The kiss was slow and sensual, but laced with a sense of pent up tension.

You met the kiss easily, smiling into it. Your hands come up to gently cradle the sides of his jaw, tilting your head slightly to get a better angle. His lips were soft, smooth against yours. 

You’d thought about this a lot, even if you shouldn’t have, but the reality is definitely much better. 

It was slow and sweet, everything they’ve always been with each other, underlined with everything they’ve kept bottled up for way too long. God knows it could be as old as they’re friendship. 

Both of them aren’t the ‘take what you want’ types until pushed. 

You pull back just a breadth away from his lips, grinning slightly. “I’ve been waiting for you to do this, you know.” You murmur quietly, lips brushing slightly. 

And you definitely have been waiting. 

You don’t stay apart long enough for him to respond, pressing your lips together again. 

Your words and the way you pressed closer to him made his heart race. This was everything he’s wanted for so long, and finally having you in his arms was intoxicating.

Tim wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer to him. The kiss intensified, both of you giving into the pent-up desire that had been building between you for months.

Despite the intensity of the kiss, somehow it also felt gentle, like you were rediscovering each other. Your hands still on his jaw, his hands on your waist, you both seemed content to simply explore each other's lips for a long time.

Noah didn’t matter anymore, what happened didn’t matter, all that mattered in the moment was this. Was him. 

And you were happy to indulge. 

[nyt1ba]

something something Adam's voice in the ending, going from flat and detached to melancholic and emotionally raw. His mannerisms and expressions, the sincerity and regret he carries openly, whereas in the beginning he was vague and secretive. Revealing himself with all his flaws, admitting to his mistakes and expressing his wish to save both the humans and the Andro-Edios even if no one were to believe his motives to be true. He holds no credibility with all that he had done and the manipulative ways he used to achieve his goals, but he remains earnest and doesn't hide behind excuses but rather shows the truth as it is with all its ugliness ... I think about this way too much ...

[inadaydream99]

When You Sit in Their Lap

A/N - I just had to…

Disclaimer: This does not represent any of the members in real life and is for entertainment purposes only.

Bang Chan

Chan is used to being the one offering comfort, whether it’s to you, his members, or anyone who comes to him with a problem. So when you settle into his lap without hesitation, his first reaction is a chuckle that’s full of warmth and affection.

His hands immediately rest on your waist, fingers pressing into your sides as he adjusts you to make sure you’re comfortable.

“You could’ve warned me first, y’know,” he murmurs, but there’s no real complaint in his tone.

Before you can respond, he tightens his arms around you, resting his chin on your shoulder. His breath is warm against your skin as he leans ever so slightly to place a gentle kiss.

“Not that I mind.” His touch is gentle but firm, and you can feel the steady rhythm of his breathing beneath you.

If he was working on something, he’ll absentmindedly return to it, one hand still holding you close. But if it’s late at night and the two of you are unwinding, expect him to shift slightly, pulling you even closer into a proper cuddle.

Lee Minho

Minho’s first reaction is a raised brow, his lips twitching ever so slightly in amusement.

“You’re brave,” he remarks, tilting his head slightly as he looks up at you. But despite his teasing, his hands instinctively settle on your hips, holding you in place like he was expecting you to do this all along.

His eyes scan your face, gauging your expression before he smirks.

“Is my lap really that comfortable?” he muses, his fingers lightly tracing patterns on your thighs.

He pretends not to care, but the way his hands tighten slightly whenever you shift gives him away. If you try to move away, he won’t stop you outright, but he will let out a soft scoff and pull you right back.

“You sat down first. Stay.”

If he’s feeling particularly playful, he might lean in close and whisper, “If you wanted my attention, there were easier ways to ask, you know.”

Seeing your flustered reaction only makes his smirk turn more devilish, before he moves one of his hands to cup your cheek and gently forces you to maintain his eye contact.

Seo Changbin

The moment you sit on Changbin’s lap, his eyebrows shoot up in surprise before a slow grin spreads across his face.

“Oh? What’s this?” he teases, his arms naturally wrapping around you, locking you in place.

His hands settle on your waist, thumbs rubbing small circles against your sides as he leans back slightly, completely content with your weight against him.

“You’re not getting up now,” he adds with a chuckle, giving your waist a playful squeeze.

Changbin isn’t one to shy away from affection, and if you make yourself comfortable, he’ll take it as an invitation to wrap his arms around you more securely, pressing a soft kiss against your temple.

“You just made a big mistake,” he jokes, “because now I’m never letting you go.”

He might even start rocking the both of you gently, fully enjoying the excuse to hold you close.

Hwang Hyunjin

Hyunjin freezes for a brief moment before his lips curl into a slow, mischievous smile. “Oh?” he hums, tilting his head slightly as he stares up at you. His hands find your waist, warm and firm, as he adjusts his posture to accommodate you better.

“You should be careful,” he murmurs, his voice dropping into that soft, teasing tone that makes your heart race. “Sitting here means you’re mine for the next hour at least.”

He buries his face into the crook of your neck, pressing a lingering kiss against your skin and when you squirm you feel his grin against your shoulder, his arms tightening around you to stop you from twisting yourself enough to see his expression.

Hyunjin thrives on physical affection, so he takes full advantage of the moment—playing with your fingers, swaying slightly with you in his arms, or tracing patterns on your thighs.

“Comfy?” he asks, though his tone makes it clear he already knows the answer.

And if you even think about moving? He’ll pout dramatically and whine, “Stay just a little longer,” a satisfied smirk on his face knowing you can’t refuse him.

Han Jisung

Jisung stares at you for a second before gasping dramatically, placing a hand over his chest like he’s just been personally attacked.

“You really just—sat down? No warning? No heads-up?” he exclaims, though his laughter betrays him.

Before you can respond, he sighs dramatically and leans into you, arms looping lazily around your waist.

“Guess I have no choice but to accept my fate,” he mutters, nuzzling against your shoulder with a playful pout.

Despite his teasing, you can feel how relaxed he becomes with you in his arms. He’ll absentmindedly play with the hem of your shirt or run his fingers along your back, fully enjoying the warmth of your presence.

If you shift too much, he’ll tighten his hold and whine, “Hey, stop moving, you’re gonna ruin the moment!”

If he’s in a particularly clingy mood, he’ll lay his head against your chest and mumble, “You can’t just sit here and expect me not to fall asleep.” And honestly? He might just do exactly that.

Lee Felix

Felix’s immediate reaction is pure joy—his eyes light up, and a soft giggle escapes his lips as he instinctively wraps his arms around your waist.

“Aww, you wanna cuddle?” he coos, his deep voice laced with warmth.

Holding you close, his hands rub soothing circles on your back. “You’re so warm,” he murmurs, resting his head against your shoulder.

When you let out a little hum in response, he smiles and nuzzles into you even more.

“You’re not allowed to leave now,” he adds, his grip tightening slightly.

Felix lives for moments like these, so he’ll fully embrace the situation—rocking you gently, playing with your fingers, or even humming a soft tune against your skin.

If you try to move, he’ll pout dramatically. “But I’m so comfy,” he whines, giving you those wide, pleading eyes. And let’s be honest—you’re not getting up anytime soon.

Kim Seungmin

Seungmin raises an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Really?” he deadpans, watching as you settle into his lap. But even as he acts indifferent, his hands immediately move to secure you in place, his grip firm on your waist.

“You’re bold,” he remarks, but there’s a slight smirk tugging at his lips.

His fingers lazily trace patterns against your sides, his warmth seeping into you despite his teasing exterior.

If you try to move away, he won’t stop you, but he will tighten his grip just enough to make you hesitate.

“You started this,” he reminds you. “Deal with it.”

Despite his playful sarcasm, you can feel how comfortable he is with you there. Then you feel him lean you both further back and hear him sigh dramatically. “Guess I have to tolerate this now,” he muses, his tone dry but his actions betraying him as he rubs slow circles on your back.

Yang Jeongin

Jeongin stiffens slightly, caught off guard by your sudden closeness. His ears turn pink almost instantly, and he blinks up at you. “Oh. Um. Hi?”

But within seconds, he relaxes, a small, shy smile forming on his lips.

“You’re comfy,” he admits softly, his arms tentatively wrapping around your waist. His grip is gentle at first, but as the warmth between you settles in, he holds you a little tighter, more securely.

He lets out a contented sigh, leaning his forehead against your shoulder. “You’re not allowed to move now,” he murmurs, his voice slightly muffled.

And if you try? He pouts, tightening his grip with a quiet, “Nope. Stay here.”

[newmoonlover009]

Distracted - Charlie Swan

“Just kiss me.”

Charlie Swan x Fem!Reader

Summary - Bella tasks you to keep Charlie distracted as she battles her new "sickness." You do as she says. In more ways than one.

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings: 18+, sexual content, age gap (reader is 23), lying, subtle angst, quickie, fast-paced, kissing, slight grinding/dry humping, neck kissing, unprotected piv sex, a bit of cock warming, cream pie, the use of the words "cunt" and "cock," and the pet name "baby."

(Let me know if I missed any.)

Disclaimer: Apologies for any potential spelling errors or grammar mistakes. Twilight au—details won’t be accurate to the films or books—they are rewritten to fit the story.

a/n - yippee, my first post on my multi-fandom account. In all honesty, I did not proofread this one shot as thoroughly as I usually do. So, apologies in advance if it seems rushed. Enjoy <3

Truth be told, you know of Bella’s… “condition.” 

Why she entrusts you with her secret—you don’t know. You’ve only known Bella briefly, having moved to Forks just a year before her return. When word spread that she’d be coming home, Charlie asked you personally to become her friend—a mentor of sorts, even. With long hours at the station, Charlie didn’t have the time to hover, even when he really wanted to. 

Bella liked to think Charlie didn’t hover, but he did. Even now. 

“Good morning, Chief Swan!” You yelled from your porch, greeting the Chief like you did every chance you got. The two of you had been neighbors for quite some time now since you moved in right across the street into the smallest house in the neighborhood with your mom.

“Mornin’.” Charlie’s gruff voice carried across the street. Usually, he’d disappear into his lonesome house, and only leave when he was called to the station. This time, however, he paused at his door in thought. You watched curiously as he turned around, immediately locking eyes with you, and cautiously approaching your quaint porch. 

“I hear your daughter is coming to town, Chief. That’s big news.” You offered conversation, still curious as to why he was purposely approaching you. Charlie was a kind man, and sometimes even friendly to outsiders, but he was still closed off. Perhaps it was your age that prompted him to maintain his distance—two decades is a large difference. Younger people probably freaked him out, you figured. 

“Yeah, I’m real excited.” Though, his unenthusiastic tone said otherwise. “That’s actually what I wanted to talk about.”

“Oh, okay.” You remained an open mind, waiting for an elaboration of sorts. “What about?”

“In all honesty, I need you to do me a favor.” His tone was serious, not asking, but rather telling. You would’ve agreed either way. 

“Of course, what’s up?” It seemed as though he struggled to find the words to ask, his brows furrowed as he thought intently. 

“Bella hasn’t lived here since, well, a long time. She visits, sure, but other than that, she doesn’t know anyone here.” That didn’t surprise you, especially since you hadn’t seen her once since living there. What he said next, however, did surprise you. “I need you to keep an eye on her for me. I know it’s a lot to ask, but you’re close in age, right? Maybe you can provide some… input in her life that I can’t.” Well, not quite close in age. She was 17. You were 21. 

“Oh, Chief Swan, I—”

“Charlie.” He corrected you.

“Charlie.” You repeated. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea. Bella doesn’t know me, and quite frankly, I don’t know her. You do, though.” 

“Please?” He looked defeated—embarrassed that he had to enlist the help of his neighbor to welcome his teenage daughter. After seeing the silently begging look on his face, you couldn’t say no.

So, when she called you once the plane landed, returning from her short-lived honeymoon with Edward, your vision blurred and hearing rang as she whimpered the words “vampire” and “pregnant.” She informed you that tensions were high between the Cullens; debating whether she should keep it or… “get rid of it.” Alice, Edward, and Jacob strongly advocated for the latter. You, however, only knew that Bella needed a friend.

It kills you to keep a secret of this magnitude from Charlie—who’s been pacing back and forth since you arrived. Bella asked you to keep an eye on him—a trend in the Swan family, it seems—and to keep him distracted so he wouldn’t drive to the Cullen house himself and demand answers. 

“Charlie, please—”

“What do you mean I can’t see her? Is she okay?” His tone is frantic; worried. 

“She’s fine. She just contracted a virus and didn’t want to worry you. Clearly, it’s not working.”

“So why can’t she call me? Why are you the one telling me?” Because he’ll know something is wrong by the sound of her voice. 

“Because she wanted the information given in person. She thought you deserved more than a phone call.” You deserve the truth, you think to yourself, but you’ve made a promise to Bella.

“Where’s this medical facility? I’ll go there myself–” There is no medical facility. She’s shacked up at the Cullen house just miles away. 

“No, Charlie, you can’t. She didn’t even tell me, so there’s no way of you knowing.” You hate how the lies roll off your tongue with ease. He huffs in frustration at your answer, finally taking a seat on the couch while you stand just feet away in front of the television. Sorrow settles like a brick in your gut, so you sit in the empty spot just beside him, your hand landing on his shoulder to offer support. “I’m really sorry, Charlie, but you know she’s in the best hands. Edward–or Carlisle–won’t let anything bad happen to her.” 

“I know…” His voice trails off, uncertainty clear in his tone. He knows you’re right, but you also know that the protective dad in him can’t sit idly by. Your heart aches to see the way his eyes glaze over, his brows in a perpetual frown since Bella left for her honeymoon. The poor man hasn’t been the same since the wedding. 

His house is empty again and his routine has fallen back into what it was before she came home; working every chance he gets and ordering takeout every night. His incessant sullen gaze has returned; his eyes are no longer softer like they were when Bella was here. You feel her absence as well. The house is eerily quiet–colder than usual–and the smaller things that accumulated in their shared spaces have been packed away and moved. Alice took the liberty of packing Bella’s things. 

Your relationship–or rather acquaintance–with Charlie has nearly withered since her departure. There’s no need to speak to him unless it’s to relay a message, like the unfortunate one you’re delivering now. Still, you greet him with a good morning, afternoon, and evening when you see him; which is rare. You quite enjoyed being a part of Charlie’s life, even if it was through Bella, and you felt as though you had finally cracked the man who would hardly speak to you since you moved in. 

“She’ll be okay. I promise.” It’s a stupid promise to make when you’re unsure of the outcome yourself. 

“I guess you’re right.” He lets out a heavy sigh, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees, his face falling into his hands. 

You gently nod to yourself, taking that as your sign to leave. You’ve done all that you can at the moment; told him of Bella’s “sickness,” given him peace of mind, and ensured that he wouldn’t attempt to see her in person. All things Bella instructed you to do. You feel terrible knowing Charlie’s original plan was for you to watch over Bella, and now it’s been completely flipped in the opposite direction. 

“I should get going.” You announce, patting his shoulder and grabbing his attention once more. “I’ll let you know if I hear anything else from her.”

Charlie nods, his warm eyes finding yours. He lifts himself from the couch with a gentle huff and stands to walk you to the door, as he always does. As you mirror his movements, the two of you face each other, subtle awkwardness creeping into the space between you. He’s decently taller than you, forcing your head to tilt back as you match his gaze. His eyes are masking a million different emotions, just screaming to be let out, so you provide the only form of comfort you can think of. Lifting your arms from your sides to reach toward him, his watchful eyes observe your actions as you lazily wrap them around his waist. 

His body freezes, stunned by your affection, as you rest your head against his broad chest. Your cheek lays against his cotton T-shirt, saturated in his warm scent—woodsy, cinnamon, and smoky–as if he had just built a fire to combat the slowly approaching frost. A beat passes before you feel his arms wrap around your shoulders, his head craning down to rest his scruffed cheek on the top of your head. His heart is pounding in his chest, the muffled sound knocking against your ear. As if to absorb his hurt, you hug him more firmly, your hands interlocking behind him as you adjust your grip. 

“Thank you for coming over.” His defeated voice finally speaks above you, and a hand soothingly rubs your shoulder. “It was nice seeing you again.” 

The feeling's mutual. The last real conversation you had with him was the wedding night. It hurt your feelings a bit; further confirming that Charlie was only interested in talking to you about Bella, nothing more. Sure, that was the deal, but you had hoped for more. Whatever “more” was, you still aren’t sure.

“Of course.” You breathe out, leaning back to look up at him, your arms still wrapped around him. “I hope to see you again soon. Under better circumstances.” 

“Me too.” He lets out a defeated chuckle, the humor absent. “Let me walk you out.”

Although, neither of you moves. His hands stay spread on the expanse of your back as his conflicted gaze bores into yours. An unspoken magnetic pull lures you to him, his eyes locking yours in a curious trance. Your stomach flips when he swiftly leans in, capturing your lips in a chaste kiss. Mere milliseconds pass before his lips are ripped away; just as quickly as they had come. 

Your eyes widen and the grip you have on him releases as you take a precautionary step back. Jaw falling slack, your lips part in utter shock, and your eyes blink rapidly as if you’re in a haze. Your face has surely turned crimson, the heat creeping up your neck and settling in the peaks of your cheeks. The look on his face, however, is just as shocked as you are–like he couldn’t believe he did that. He looks… ashamed. It’s almost visible on his face–the way his thoughts race–his voice catching in his throat as if to offer an explanation. 

“Charlie…” 

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have–” 

“Kiss me again.” You rush out, “Please.”

“Are you sure–”

“Just kiss me.” You nearly groan. Unable to wait a moment longer, you step forward to close the short distance between you two, your arms finding their way around his neck and feet standing on their tippy-toes. Your lips crash onto his, your eyes fluttering close as his hands snake around your waist, desperately gripping at your clothed skin. A low hum purrs from his throat while he deepens the kiss, dipping his head lower to accommodate you and satisfy his fast-growing hunger. His mustache and the stubble on his chin rub against you, adding to the pleasurable sensation pooling in your gut. 

This was not what you intended when you were tasked with keeping him distracted, but you can’t find a part of you willing to stop. Not when he pulls you in closer by the waist, his fingers digging deeper into your heated flesh, grasping at you so you can’t pull away–like you ever would.

Taking the initiative, your tongue darts from your parted lips, swiping along his bottom lip and eliciting a groan from Charlie. The sound is like music to your ears, only fueling you further when your hands find his loose waves, gripping gently and tugging at the roots. Following your lead, his tongue combats yours, invading your senses with his taste, his smell, him. 

Without breaking the persisting kiss, Charlie moves you both and pulls you with him as he lands on the couch in a seated position. Instinctually, your legs straddle him–your skirt lifting and bunching at your hips–and you finally lean away from him to catch your breath, your chest heaving in response. Through parted lips, Charlie lets out quick huffs, his back slowly leaning against the couch to allow his eyes to rake over your appearance; flushed cheeks, kiss-swollen lips, and hooded eyes that silently beg for more. 

The sight of him is ungodly; sitting man-spread, hands now lazily resting against your hips, and eyes that flood with lust–the chocolatey irises being swallowed by dilated pupils. You need more of him.

Slouching slightly, you lean into him as your lips connect with his neck, leaving sloppy open-mouth kisses along the sensitive skin. His head tilts to the side to grant better access as a strained noise collects on the tip of his tongue. Your hips absently move against him and a surprised sound comes from you when the bulge of his jeans lines up with your aching core. The dull sensation urges you to seek more friction, making Charlie’s hands grip your hips to assist in your efforts. 

Soft, satisfied sighs brush past your lips as you continue your work on his exposed neck, pulling small grunts from him and subtle jerks of his hips. 

“Are you sure you want this?” His drawn voice calls to you, letting you know you can stop while you’re ahead. The thing is, you don’t want to. 

“So sure.” You mumble against his skin. “Are you?” Asking sincerely, you stop what you’re doing to catch his gaze.

He only nods, his eyes darting to your lips and hands absently squeezing, encouraging you to continue. Slowly, you roll your hips against him, building the previous friction back up. The feeling is deliciously teasing, only reaching a certain level of fulfillment before it becomes unbearable. You hold his line of sight, watching as his face gently contorts into a frustrated frown, needing more as much as you do. His brows furrow, creasing the skin between them, and a low grumble gathers in his chest as his legs shift restlessly beneath you.

Releasing your grip from his hair, your hands lay flat as they palm at his shoulders, spread across his chest, and travel down his abdomen, pausing just above the waistband of his jeans. You halt your hip movements, letting your fingers tease at the zipper before asking, “Can I?”

“Please.” 

It’s the only word he can muster before you undo the zipper at a tantalizing pace, the soft noise only adding to the fluttering feeling gathering in your lower belly. You quickly unfasten the jeans button, folding the rough denim fabric over to expose his boxers beneath. His jaw clenches when you tug the waistband of his jeans down just enough to reach into the stretchy material and firmly grip him. His stomach visibly tightens through his shirt, a low grunt exiting with a shaky breath as you free his hardened cock. Impressive.

Your closed fist works up and down his length a few times, admiring the way precum leaks from the reddened tip, pouring over onto your hand. Charlie struggles to show restraint as his hips shift upward to match your rhythm. You’re eager as well, feeling wetness gather and soak into the cotton fabric of your underwear. 

Impatience gets the better of you when you release him, smirking at the sound of protest from him as your hands find the bottom hem of your skirt and tug the clothing item upward to gather around your waist. His mouth clamps shut when your soaked underwear comes into view, exposing the absolute arousal he elicits from you. Usually, you’d opt for more foreplay, but you need him–you need him now. 

Unwilling to waste time, you pull your underwear to the side, using your other hand to grasp Charlie once more. With a little maneuvering, you scoot closer to him, lifting yourself slightly to align him with your cunt. He sucks in a sharp breath when you run the tip through your velvety folds, gathering every ounce of arousal before stopping at your dripping entrance. 

Slowly, you lower yourself, allowing your hips to sink onto him and inch his way into you. Neither of you dares to breathe as your walls stretch around him, welcoming him and swallowing every inch until you’ve sunken completely. Both of you gasp–for air, and because of the way his cock twitches and your walls squeeze around him. He’s filled you entirely and you bite back the moan that begs to release. Without even moving, the feeling itself is euphoric. 

“I need a minute.” He admits, his voice gravelly and forcing self-control.

“Me too.” You breathe out, your hands resting against his waist for support. 

Staying put, you lean forward, capturing his lips in a leisurely kiss. The moments leading up to this one have gone by in a blur, having happened so fast. You savor him, enjoying the way he can’t control the soft groans you swallow as your lips work against his, your walls pulsing in response. 

Your hands travel from below you, your fingertips ghosting over his lower stomach, his ribs, and his chest before settling on the sides of his face. His stubble scratches the surface of your palms as you deepen the kiss, humming in satisfaction when he invades your mouth with his tongue. Growing impatient, you feel Charlie’s hands grip tighter, urging you to lift your hips. 

The kiss is unbreaking as you follow his lead, letting him raise your hips and pull you back down onto his length. You moan into his mouth as he repeats this action a few more times before you decide to take over. Heavy breaths blow through his nose as you speed up, creating a steady rhythm that satisfies the both of you. You’re unsure how long you’ll last given the coil that’s been wound up tight since grinding against him fully clothed, which technically, you still are.

With your breath picking up, you break the kiss to focus solely on lifting and lowering your hips. The pace is growing quicker, and you notice Charlie’s hips moving to match your efforts. Resting your forehead against his, you lock eyes as you allow an uncontrollable string of moans to push past your plump lips, your eyebrows scrunching in pure pleasure. 

“I’m so close.” You confess, feeling your walls flutter around him in that familiar rhythmic pattern. 

“Keep going, baby.” His encouragement and use of the pet name through clenched teeth signals that his climax is nearing as well. 

Preserving energy and seeking release, you grind your hips instead, and you nearly cry out when your swollen clit rubs against him. It’s enough to bring you to the edge, your climax teetering and waiting to be pushed over. With a few more passes of your grinding hips, it doesn’t take long, and your head flies back to let out a drawn-out moan. 

“Oh god, Charlie.” Your voice points to the ceiling as your eyes squeeze shut, your hips sputtering against him. Your cunt pulses frantically around him as you continue your movements, riding out your crashing orgasm and urging Charlie to do the same. 

From the force of your climax, Charlie isn’t far behind. His name leaves your lips in an exasperated whimper, being repeated like a mantra. When your head falls forward, and your spent stare captures his, it’s enough to send him over the edge. With a choked groan, you feel his cock twitch inside you, coating your walls with hot cum as he stares deeply into you. Determined to wring out his orgasm, your hips move languidly despite the overwhelming sensation it creates for you, watching as his stomach flexes sporadically. 

He lets out a choked noise when he’s finished, the grip on your hips loosening and prompting you to slow to a stop. The mixture of your releases drips out of you, pooling at the base of his cock. Both of you breathe heavily, your chests heaving in harmony as your eyes bore into each other. 

You expect a feeling of regret to wash over you, but it never comes. 

Instead, Charlie’s hands slide to your waist and pull you closer, his lips peppering gentle kisses along your jaw, hairline, and lips. He reaches over beside him, grabbing a flannel he left draped over the back of the couch. Carefully, he drapes the patterned material over your shoulders, and your hands drop from his face, letting you lean forward and rest your head against his chest. You aren’t necessarily cold, but having shared an intimate moment with him, Charlie feels the need to cover you–to make you feel less exposed and to provide care.

“We should get cleaned up.” You mumble against him, feeling him soften inside of you.

“Okay…” His voice trails off, as if deep in thought. A beat passes before he speaks again, his gruff voice rumbling against your cheek from deep within his chest. “Do you want to stay for dinner?”

You smile, genuinely in what feels like forever, “I’d love to.”

Tags:

[pazziescapism]

Break Our Ice - Chapter 1

pairing: paige x azzi

wc: 7.8k (what?? holy shit)

au fic what??, figureskater!Azzi x icehockeyplayer!Paige

fake dating, just like playful banter teasing relationship to lovers, basically paige and azzi dancing around each other

a/n: okay so!! first post/fic kinda nervy..AHAH all these great writers on here have really inspired me so yeahhh, I haven't written fanfic or really written anything in a REALLLYY long time so um yea im a little rusty ngl. anyway, the motivation needs to keep pumping so i would love to here some live reacts or just any comments and feedback, lwk unedited so like if u see anything just lmk so here goes nothing!! love y'all (wait also im from australia, yep, all the way down under, i tried writing this with like american spelling n what not cuz we use british english) - but if i made any mistakes again let me know <3

Over a decade of figure skating, and Azzi hasn't ever hit anyone with an ice skate.

She was currently considering it, but she figured that the fact she hadn’t was mostly a sign that she was a good person, on the account that she thought of it and was actively refraining. Surely, that made her a better person than someone who never had to resist the temptation.

“Thank you for that fascinating look inside your brain,” Caroline says when Azzi voices this thought. “I hope you see a therapist about these disturbing violent urges.”

“Nobody likes a backseat psychologist,” Azzi tells her, and twists away before Caroline can tell her she’s misusing the phrase or something unwaveringly supportive.

It’s easy to lose herself in the motions of this routine, which is a beginner practice she chose for a cooldown. And the quieter her mind gets, the less homicidal she feels, which is probably better for everyone all around.

“Oi,” someone calls from the spectator stands, and Azzi’s mind splashes red very briefly. “I just said we booked this rink.”

Paige, the potential victim of ice-skate homicide, is looking over the stands, her jawline clenched in a way that looks very lickable (but she very quickly buried that thought).

“Didn’t you hear?” Azzi says brightly, spinning away, one foot crossing gracefully over the other. “You aren’t allowed to book the rink on the first Saturday of the month! It’s free use!” She calls over her shoulder.

She spins back around in time to see Jana, the giant Egyptian on their team, straighten up to a full height of probably 6’2. “Oh, okay! Sorry to bother you!”

She turns to leave and is stopped by Paige’s hand gripping her shoulder.

“Jana,” Paige says, her eyes shutting briefly as if praying for patience. “Wisen up, huh?”

Azzi snickers, sliding nearer to see that angry jawline up close, but her fun is quickly spoiled by the sight of the hockey team coach approaching the rink, evidently coming to see what the hold-up was.

“Ah, well,” she says hastily, crossing to the other edge to exit the rink. “I tried!” She yells across the ice to where the team is, and she swears on her life she can see Paige try to hide a smile.

She meets up with Caroline in the locker room, because of course Caroline had left at the specified time instead of sticking with Azzi to piss off the hockey team.

It wasn’t that Azzi enjoyed it, really. She was just generally opposed to getting walked over. If the end result was that the delicious-looking vein in Paige’s neck began to show, that was only a side benefit.

(And if Azzi and Kaitlyn occasionally go to their games, Azzi will maintain to her dying day that it is actually to throw them off their game and not an attempt at manifestation.)

“A poked bear may stumble in its sleep but eventually its eyes will open,” Caroline tells her.

“Caroline, you really are a weird girl,” Azzi says. “Repeat that with real-life words, please.”

Caroline thinks this over. “One of those guys is going to snap and hit you one of these days,” she offers instead.

Azzi scrunches her nose in disdain. “You should be more worried about me snapping.”

“I am,” Caroline says. “I’m worried that them snapping will make you snap and then we’ll get banned from this rink.”

“Out of curiosity,” Azzi asks, swinging her bag of practice clothes over her shoulder. “Why are you getting banned in this scenario?”

“I wouldn’t cooperate with law enforcement when they came to arrest you,” Caroline says solemnly.

Azzi stares at her, strangely touched. “Thank you. I’ll try not to get arrested.”

This resolution is tested immediately after leaving the rink, which had admittedly not been in Azzi’s plans.

“Azzi!” Jayden yells at her, jogging over from where he had been standing by his car parked outside the rink. “Hey, Azzi, listen-”

“I’ll piss on your grave and listen to your corpse roll,” Azzi says, but only quietly and only to herself.

“I got two tickets to a hockey game a week from now,” Jayden says, catching up to her, smiling that horrible smile that makes Azzi want to knock his teeth out. “I got a lot of girls asking me to come, but I thought I’d take you out.”

“Oh, did you?” Azzi asks, as flatly as possible. She’s already walked to the bus stop, and now she’s stuck waiting there while Jayden talks at her.

“C’mon, we can make a whole thing out of it,” Jayden says, oblivious to the murderous vibes Azzi is projecting.

“Not interested,” Azzi says. “Take one of the girls.”

“Aw, but I want to take you,” Jayden says, almost whining. “Besides,” oh god here it comes, “you do kind of owe me, for the whole free rink access.”

There it is. There is how Azzi has been roped into accepting nearly every invitation this stupid bastard has thrown her way over the last few months out of some desperate attempt to try and buy his way into her pants.

“I owe your dad,” Azzi reminds him, though she knows it won’t work. “Who owns the rink. Not you.”

“You know my dad wouldn’t want you to turn this down,” Jayden responds, like he always does. “He wants us to get closer.”

Azzi, in no small way, owed Geno her career, a debt that mattered more to her than any other chain she was attached to. And, no, Geno would not want Azzi strong-armed into going on pseudo-dates with his son, but it would make him upset if Azzi started fighting with the bastard, which was bound to happen soon because Jayden did not like to be told no.

“I can’t,” Azzi says, more out of spite than anything else.

“Why not?”

“I-” Azzi licks her lips and stares at the pimple sprouting on Jayden’s chin as maliciously as possible. She hopes it explodes. “I have a girlfriend who wouldn’t like that.”

Even as she says it, she regrets it. She isn’t even sure why she said it.

“A girlfriend,” Jayden echoes, his tone incredulous.

“A girlfriend,” Azzi maintains, desperately committed to her sinking ship. “She’s kind of overprotective, really.”

God, she’s fucked the second Jayden asks to see a picture. Or by next week, when Jayden inevitably asks why her so-called girlfriend has yet to drop by when Azzi practices. And then she’ll have to explain that she lied, and then Geno will look at her all confused and disappointed like the time Azzi had basically melted the entire rink by accidentally turning off a master switch that killed all the power in the building, and then her career and all her professional relationships will be burned down and it’ll all be Azzi’s own fault because she can’t keep her mouth shut and deal with a couple hours with Jayden. And apparently she likes to self-sabotage.

Azzi feels like she’s going to vomit. She feels like the sidewalk she’s standing on is starting to cave in beneath her, like the sky is suddenly bearing down on her shoulders, too heavy to carry, so close to pushing her to her knees.

“Hey!” A familiar voice calls from behind her. “You forgot your skates!” Azzi manages to turn on shaky legs to see Paige jogging towards her in sweatpants and her hockey jersey. She’s carrying a pink bag that had been a present from Kaitlyn, which Azzi uses to store her skates when she’s taking the bus.

“Ah, Paige” she manages to say through the depths of her spiralling thoughts.

She’s got a light sheen of sweat on her forehead- she’s probably been practicing, Azzi thinks dizzily- and her shoulders seem especially broad with that jersey on.

“Here,” Paige says, holding the bag out. When Azzi doesn’t make a move to take it, she clicks her tongue and, in a shockingly gentle movement, pulls Azzi’s hand up herself, so that she can place the bag on her palm. Then Azzi takes it, clumsily adjusting her grip so she’s holding it properly by the handles. Her breath is still coming too fast, her lungs burning in his chest.

A heavy hand settles on her shoulder, fingers settling near the nape of her neck shaking her lightly so that Paige can peer up into her eyes. “Hey,” she says, in a voice so soft it could have given Azzi an instant warmth in her con other, much different, circumstances. “What’s wrong with you?”

Paige’s hair is in its usual braided style, always neat, yet effortless like someone hadn't even wasted a second of their time putting it up like that. She’s got nice eyes, Azzi's noticed them before. A sort of blue that pierces into your soul and stays there. Her eyebrows are currently pulled down low, making the skin of her forehead wrinkle. 

Jayden, who had been blissfully silent, up until now, decides to chime in. “Is this the girl?”

Paige steps forward, frowning. “Who’s this?” She asks, and she’s talking to Azzi but she’s looking at Jayden, and Azzi’s never been quite this grateful for Paige’s slight resting bitch face before. 

“Just a friend,” she says smoothly. “Azzi, properly introduce us sometime, okay?”

“Sure thing!” Azzi says, as nicely as possible, which makes Paige head turn towards him again. It doesn’t matter because Jayden is already slithering back into his car that cost way too much money, not to mention insurance premiums, making excuses about why he has to leave.

It’s only once Azzi can’t even see the fumes created by that hideous fucking car that she lets her shoulders drop, her forehead drooping to rest on Paige’s shoulders. A little voice in her brain pops up to tell her that, in normal circumstances, she would rather die than be this vulnerable in front of this girl. But right now, in these circumstances, Azzi has just barely avoided having a panic attack in public and Paige’s jersey smells sweaty but not dirty, and her shoulders are such a steady place to rest her tired head.

“Um.” Paige says, and then a hesitant hand is rubbing her back, up and down in comforting strokes.

“Thank god you’re so scary, p,” Azzi mumbles, fisting his hands into jersey material on both sides of Paige’s chest, unwilling to pull away just yet. Fortunately, Paige doesn’t try to move, just keeps running her hand down Azzi back. It’s oddly comforting, Azzi’s breath starting to level out again.

“Don’t tell me you were letting that guy bully you,” Paige says, disbelieving. “You? I once saw you make Nika cry. Actual tears!”

Azzi laughs, despite herself, and finally stands up straight. She reluctantly releases the jersey she had clenched in her fists, and watches the material stay gathered where she had grabbed it.

“It’s hard to explain,” she says. “And I think your teammates are looking for you.”

KK has, in fact, wandered out, her hockey stick held out in front of her chest like a protective barrier.

“They were probably worried we’d killed each other,” Paige says, and makes a gesture Azzi can’t see at KK, who beams and gives her a thumbs up before running back inside.

“She did look glad to be out of the crossfire,” Azzi says, amused.

“Ah, you scare her,” Paige says dismissively, and then looks at her carefully. “Hey, uh-”

Azzi’s not sure what she expected, but it wasn’t for Paige to step forward and chuck her under the chin. “Cheer up, alright?“

“You’re ridiculous,” Azzi says exasperatedly. She doesn’t say thank you, but she hopes Paige can see it in her eyes. Maybe not. Either way, Azzi thinks, watching the girl lope away, she had been a temporary solution to a much bigger problem.

“It’s not a problem,” Kaitlyn tells her that evening. Azzi thinks she might be rolling her eyes, but she can’t tell because her face is smashed into her couch cushion, so all she can see is the thin cracks beginning to line the fabric. Kaitlyn is prone to rolling her eyes when Azzi complains to her, so it’s a strong possibility.

“It is a problem,” Azzi says into the couch, not budging from her comatose position. “I’m never leaving my apartment again. My body will atrophy, and my flesh will rot, and you’ll find it here, on this couch, being eaten by flies.”

“You sure have a talent for dramatics,” Kaitlyn says, blatantly unsympathetic. “If figure skating doesn’t work out, I’m sure you have a career waiting for you in monologuing.”

“I think you would make a great Hamlet,” Caroline adds helpfully, perched on Azzi’s armchair like an overgrown crow, brown hair cascading how her shoulders. 

“Or the evil witches in Macbeth,” Kaitlyn says.

“I wish you guys were dead,” Azzi says, and rolls over onto her back so she’s looking at the ceiling instead. God, her ceiling is so fucking ugly, and she can’t even get it fixed because she’s never going to the Olympics, and she’s going to be poor and useless and tragically beautiful for the rest of her life-

“What is wrong with you?” Caroline says, and Azzi realizes belatedly that she’d been saying all of that out loud.

“I’m so fucked,” Azzi says, and her voice shakes more than she had meant it to. “What do I do?”

“You could confess you lied,” Kaitlyn suggests. “And say it was a spur of the moment thing, whoopsie.”

“And then what?” Azzi says glumly. “I’m stuck following Jayden anywhere he wants to go for the rest of his life, and being polite to him even when he starts acting like I’m some kind of Oliver Twist orphan his father took in and nurtured and I owe him my first born child”

“Christ,” Caroline says. “Just get your little hockey player to pretend she’s your girlfriend.”

Azzi sits up at that, tousled strands of hair falling out of her braids. “Are you completely insane?”

“I think it’s a good plan,” Kaitlyn says, unerringly loyal to the end. “You’re so smart, carol.”

“It’s an awful plan,” Azzi hisses. “What am I supposed to say? Sorry I’ve been actively antagonizing you and your team for a bit, please pretend to be my girlfriend to keep my career alive, and also if you notice I can’t stop blushing when you’re near me, don’t pay it any mind, I just think you’re really pretty?”

“Not exactly like that,” Caroline says. “But yeah, that’s the gist of it.”

Azzi stares at her for a minute, trying to will Kaitlyn to show some sort of outward contradiction. When it doesn’t work, she collapses with a huff back onto the couch. “I’m fucked,” she repeats.

KK the first one to notice her the next day, hovering awkwardly around the entrance as the team wraps up. Azzi remembers what Paige had said about KK being scared of her, so she tries her nicest smile, giving a small wave with her right hand.

“Hey!” KK says easily, coming up to her. She’s still in her hockey gear, but her ice skates are off. “Are you looking for Paige?”

“I am, yeah,” Azzi says slowly. “How did you know that?”

KK blinks at her, her head tilting slightly to the side in silent question. “You’re always looking for Paige.”

“Am not,” Azzi says, too defensively but she’s saved from hearing whatever KK has to say about that when Nika comes up to them, slinging an arm over KK’s shoulders, and making a mean face at Azzi.

“Don’t bully KK, her nerves can’t handle it,” Nika says and then takes a closer look at her face, and stops, eyes narrowing. “Woah, what’s wrong with you today?”

Azzi can’t imagine what she looks like right now. She has trouble sleeping at the best of times, and last night had been one of the worst. She had spent most of it lying on her back and picturing herself penniless and destitute, until the swirling darkness had seemed to take on a physical shape and that shape had started to laugh at her. By the time she’d gotten up, she hadn’t even had time to fix her hair, or cover up the dark circles that had formed under her eyes.

She pictures herself, her hair tangled and her skin greasy, and a new zit starting to pop-up over her cheekbone and just about turns herself around and walks out of the building all together.

“Azzi,” Nika says, “Azzi, Azzi, Azzi.” She’s waving a hand in front of Azzi’s face, concerned eyebrows visible through the gaps in her fingers.

Azzi flinches and smacks her hand away. “Listen,” she says. “I’m not in the mood to argue today. Is Paige here?”

Nika and KK have matching flabbergasted expressions, which is less than flattering. “You’re not in the mood?” Nika asks, like Azzi has just told her the Earth is going to get flattened by an asteroid in thirty seconds.

“I’m just-” It’s occurring to Azzi that this is possibly a really terrible plan and she should go home and think it over some more, without Kaitlyn’s cackling laugh in her ear, or at least come back with her hair brushed properly. “Yeah, I’m not in the mood, I’m gonna go, honestly-”

“No, don’t go!” KK says quickly, her hand lashing out to wrap around Azzi’s arm. Azzi stares at her dead-eyed, and she winces and repeats, quieter. “Don’t go, Paige’s just changing out. She took a hard hit today, so we let her off without helping clean up. She should be here any second.”

“Azzi?”

“Speak of the devil!” KK says, sounding relieved and steps fully away from Azzi so she can see Paige approaching them, a long bag slung over her back. Her jacket is nice, Azzi notices, an expensive brand Azzi sees at competitions sometimes. It’s zipped up fully, the black fabric clinging tight to every defined muscle in her arms and chest.

“You don’t practice here today,” Paige says. She looks concerned too. Azzi is getting a little tired of these hockey players looking concernedly at her.

Azzi can think of fifty million different things to say here. Maybe a ‘how did you know that?’ or a ‘what do you care?’ or ‘hey can I talk to you?’

What comes out of her mouth is, “are you okay?”

Because Paige’s got a red, swelling mark on her jaw, sure to darken into a bruise over the next hour. She seems a little surprised by the question, her eyebrows lifting. “Yeah, just took a hit this practice. It happens.”

“Right,” Azzi says, because she knows that, because she’s seen a hockey game before. She shifts from foot to foot carefully. She’s become horribly aware of how her tongue is sitting in her own mouth. “Happens.”

“Yeah,” Paige says slowly. She looks like she wants to check Aziz’s temperature. “Do you want to sit down?”

“No,” Azzi snaps immediately, her shoulders rising to her chin. “Do I look tired to you?”

The answer is yes, probably, and it would be right. Azzi is exhausted, and she does want very badly to sit down. Still, something in her eyes must show that Azzi is running low on straws to grab at, because Paige doesn’t say yes immediately, just pauses and shakes her head slowly.

KK and Nika are both still there, Nika draped over KK’s back, watching the two of them like she’s seeing a particularly rough tennis match.

“What are you guys still doing here?” Azzi says, irritated.

Nika only smiles insufferably, lips curling up. “There she is. All back to normal. C’mon KK, let’s leave them alone.”

Azzi watches them traipse off, her irritation rising inexplicably when she sees they’re holding hands.

“I actually fell when I got hit,” Paige says apologetically, distracting her. “So if you’re here to see me, I’m going to need to sit down. For my leg. Which hurts.”

Azzi fixes her in place with a hard glare, her feet firmly planted where they are.

Paige’s eyebrow twitches, just a little. She grabs her leg, completely unconvincing. “Ouch.”

The glare is getting a little hard to keep up.

“Fuck,” Azzi says, after a moment, feeling the burning frustration in her throat subside. It hits her suddenly, as her mind clears, what she must look like to Paige, and her lips twitch. Paige’s eyes widen in alarm and Azzi breaks into laughter, a genuine laugh, rising up from her chest, her shoulders dropping back down, her body relaxing like a puppet with its strings cut.

“Sorry,” she says to Paige, who is staring at her. “That wasn’t hysteria. Sorry. I just realized I was being stupid. Also, you suck at lying. Let’s go sit down.”

Azzi kicks absent-mindedly at the legs of Paige’s chair, too nervous to look up and meet her eyes. “So, that’s the situation,” she says. It sounds more insane when she says it out loud than it had when she’d practiced it.

“Sure,” Paige says. They’ve sat down in a dingy little fast food place next to the ice rink, empty at this time of day, which is good for professional athletes who need to discuss crazy people schemes in relative privacy. A packet of limp fries sits between them, grease saturating the packet, spreading in blobs across the thin paper.

“Sure,” Azzi mimics. Her kicking grows faster, the chair legs squeaking as she hits them harder and harder.

A hand wraps around her ankle the next time it flies to kick the seat and Azzi finally looks up to meet Paige’s eyes.

“If you break it, I’m not paying for it,” Paige says warningly, and then releases Azzi’s leg.

Azzi kicks the chair one more time for good measure and then sweeps her legs under her own chair. “Can you just say something?” She asks, trying to cover the flush rising to her face. “And if the answer is no, that’s okay, but just so you know I’m trusting you to not tell anyone else that I asked you-”

Paige runs her hands over her face, groaning, and for the first time Azzi notices that her ears are bright red.

Knowing they’re in the same boat makes her inclined to be kinder, and Azzi settles down in her seat, determined to wait her out.

“Alright,” Paige says. “We need to talk about this somewhere else. People could walk in here any time and the last thing I need right now is to become tabloid fodder.”

“Ah,” Azzi says knowingly, both of them standing up. “Olympics selection is coming up.”

“Yeah,” Paige says, scrubbing a hand through her hair, making it even more frizzy. “Also, I generally don’t like seeing my face on newsstands.”

Azzi considers that, as someone who also does not love to see their face on newsstands and even more so on tabloids yet somehow always ends up on them. Azzi used to really struggle with all the added media requirements but it seems that it just seems so come with the whole ice skating package. “seems reasonable..”

“Oh, that’s right,” Paige says, leading them out into the parking lot. “You’re always doing all those modelling campaigns. I guess you see yourself a lot, huh?”

Azzi smiles. “I took two medals at last year’s Grand Prix,” she says. “I’m in high demand, p”

Paige looks skeptical. “Oh really? Ask one of your model friends to date you for real.”

“Why do that, when I could hang out with you?” Azzi asks, cheerful once again. They’ve reached Paige’s car, which is apparently the more private place Paige had been talking about.

“The windows are tinted,” Paige explains, as they both climb into the vehicle. It’s a nice car, Azzi thinks jealously, trying not to stare too obviously at the smooth, expensive-looking interior.

“Do you think any of the players from your team are going to get selected?” Azzi asks, leaning against the passenger side window to look at Paige.

“Well,” Paige says, slanting a crooked grin in Azzi’s direction. “Me, obviously.”

As the smirk turns into a soft laugh Azzi feels her heart constrict and tries to remember how to breathe properly. “Obviously,” she says, and if it doesn’t sound half as sarcastic as she meant it to, Paige doesn’t mention it.

“Nika, too,” Paige continues, thoughtfully. 

“I guess I’ll see you there,” Azzi says, and watches the crinkle around her eyes make a reappearance.

“Why can’t you just use another rink?” Paige asks. “If you won two medals already, you can probably afford it.”

Azzi tips her head back and tries to think of the best way to explain this. “Figure skating isn’t like hockey, or football, or basketball. We don’t get contracts for the season. We get paid if we win, and the costs of equipment and training add up. A lot of professional figure skaters rely on their families, or work side jobs. Plus, we retire early, so I need to save up while I’m ahead.”

Paige is watching her steadily, blue eyes giving Azzi her full attention. Somehow, Azzi hadn’t expected her to be this good of a listener.

“And this rink is private, so no fans show up to watch you practice, and it’s near my house.”

“It’s near mine too,” Paige shares and Azzi stores that information away in a small folder of her brain with a picture of Paige’s face taped over it.

“That’s not even it, though,” Azzi continues. “Figure skating’s hard to get into, if you don’t have any connections. When me and my family moved here- our last city didn’t even have an ice rink. I learned to skate on a frozen over pond. When we moved, I used to practice before school, after school, weekends, whenever we could afford it. Geno set everything up for me, he got me a good coach, he made all the right introductions. I do owe him, whatever he might think about it. I don’t want to make him upset.”

Paige is silent for a moment and then slumps forward over the steering wheel, making a noise like a dog throwing up, her forehead hitting the top of the wheel.

“Paige?” Azzi says, immediately concerned. “What the fuck?”

Paige doesn’t lift her head up, just mumbles to the floor. “Have you just been secretly cool this whole time and I didn’t know it?”

It’s enough to startle a laugh out of Azzi, the second time today.

“I feel like there’s definitely a less insane solution,” Paige says, straightening up. “But I can’t think of it, so I’ll do it.”

“You’ll do it?!”

“Just said I would.”

“Oh my god,” Azzi says, beaming so hard her cheeks are starting to ache. “Paige, you are a lifesaver. I will never say anything about your hockey team again.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep. Do you want a ride home?”

Azzi nods, so incandescently happy, she thinks she might be glowing, practically bouncing in her seat as she turns to buckle her seatbelt.

When she looks back at Paige again, Paige is already looking at her.

Azzi blinks. “What?”

“Nothing,” Paige grinds out through gritted teeth as she starts the car. “Nothing.”

“By the way,” Paige says, as the two of them inch through the weekday traffic. “Why do you take the bus anyway? Aren’t you worried you’ll be recognized?”

“No one is looking for a figure skater on public transport, Paige,” Azzi says. “Besides, I never learned how to drive, I much prefer being a passenger princess.”

Paige looks over at her, incredulous. “You never learned how?”

“I was busy,” Azzi says defensively. “I’m only twenty-two, you know. And there’s lots going on in my life.”

“I wasn’t judging,” Paige says, “just surprised. I failed mine like three times.”

Azzi sits up straight in her seat. “Three times? How do I get out of this car?”

Paige tsks disapprovingly. “Relax, it’s fine. I passed in the end, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, on the fourth try,” Azzi mutters. “I’d probably pass the bar exam if I took it on the fourth try.”

“You are not funny” Paige says, but she’s smiling as she says it. “Better to try and fail than never try, right?”

“Personally,” Azzi says, as haughty as she can manage. “I’d rather try and succeed.”

When they pull up in front of Azzi’s apartment complex, Azzi is nervous again, fidgeting with the hems of her sleeves as Paige parks.

“Should we like,” she winces even as the words leave her mouth, “come up with rules, or a plan or something.”

“We could,” Paige says dubiously. “But if you say some corny shit like ‘rule one is don’t fall in love with me’ I’m gonna break up with you.”

“I wasn’t going to say that!” Azzi snaps. Then because she can’t help herself, she adds, “Anyway, that would be the last rule. For dramatic effect.”

“I can’t believe people think you’re scary,” Paige says. 

“Shut up,” Azzi says, ineffectively, as she pulls out her phone. She opens up her Notes app, and types in ‘Rules’ into the header.

“Nerd.”

“Hush.” Azzi types in ‘Rule 1’ and then stares at it.

“Well?” Paige prompts.

Azzi scowls at her. “Rule number one is don’t be mean to me.”

“Rejected,” Paige says, and unbuckles her seatbelt to settle a little more comfortably into her seat.

“Fine,” Azzi says. “Rule one is, we have to keep going for about two months. That’ll be enough time to convince Jayden the relationship is real, and for him to get off my case.”

Paige agrees, so Azzi moves on. “Rule two is you have to go with me to weekly dinners at Geno’s house.”

Paige sits up at that, alarmingly straight. “Every week?”

“Well, not if you’re super busy,” Azzi says, a little taken aback. “I can try to get you out of the first few, but we’ll definitely have to go to a few.”

“It’s just,” Paige pauses, and then looks at Azzi, seeming incredibly pained. “I’m like, a really bad liar.”

The earnest worry on her face is too much to bear, and Azzi turns her head to stifle her laughter into her shoulder.

“I can still see you laughing,” Paige says heatedly. “I’m serious!”

“Sorry, sorry,” Azzi says, still giggling a little. She holds up her hands. “Not laughing at you, I swear. I’ll do most of the talking, you can just sit back and nod along. I’ll tell them you’re shy.”

“Of course you will,” Paige says, shaking her head. “Fine, yeah, that’s alright then.”

“Rule number three is,” Azzi hesitates, trying to think of something that’ll annoy Paige to just the appropriate level. “Rule number three is you have to drive me home from practice everyday.”

She looks at Paige expectantly, hoping to see that thrilling neck vein start to stick out, but the other man just looks thoughtful. “I probably can’t everyday,” She says.

“Paige” Azzi says, staring at her, wide-eyed. “I was just kidding, I obviously don’t expect you to just drive me around.”

“I guess it depends on how our practice schedules line up,” Paige continues, like Azzi hadn’t spoken at all. “Send me yours, and I’ll see, alright?”

“Paige-” Azzi says, bewildered by how quickly this conversation has gotten away from her, but Paige keeps speaking.

“Rule four,” she says. “Since we’re already doing this, I have a family function to go to about two months from now too. If I do this, you have to come pretend to be my date for that.”

“Ooh,” Azzi says. “The Paige Bueckers can’t get a hot date on her own?”

“You’re one to talk,” Azzi says, impassive.

Azzi sticks out her tongue, but adds it down into her notes. She isn’t sure what to do with rule number three, so she leaves it on there, and then shows the list to Paige.

“Sure,” Paige says affably. “There we go.”

Azzi hesitates. “Just like that?”

“Do you want us to spit and shake?” Paige says, amused.

“Definitely not.” Azzi looks at the list of rules in her phone again, chewing on her lower lip. “Just like, should we sign something?”

Paige sighs heavily, and then holds out her fist, pinky finger extended. When Azzi doesn’t move, just looks at her, she wiggles the finger impatiently. “C’mon.”

“Just checking- Are you seven years old, by any chance?” Azzi asks, but holds out her pinky anyway.

Paige doesn’t respond, but her eyebrows furrow slightly in focus as she loops their pinkies and then touches their thumbs together. “There. Now we’ve pinky promised.”

Azzi wants to pull on this girl’s cheeks. She wants to chew on her cheekbones. She wants to take Paige’s face between her two hands, and pepper little kisses over her nose. “Yeah,” she says helplessly. “Pinky promise.”

Azzi shows up at the rink again the next day, late in the evening after practice, and Paige waves her over from a bench where she’s wrapping up her gear and stuffing it into a bag. She’s wearing the same expensive jacket Azzi had seen yesterday, and for the first time, Azzi wonders just how much Paige earns in a year. Their team is good, she knows that, so she imagines it’s a lot. Definitely more than she earns, Azzi thinks bitterly. Nobody so much as questions her approach as she makes her way over, making Azzi wonder what Paige told her team. They had never really discussed it, so she guesses it’s fine if they know that Azzi needed a fake girlfriend.

“What’s that face for?” Paige asks as she gets closer, so Azzi makes an even worse face, scrunching up all her features and sticking out her tongue.

“Gross,” Paige says, and she looks like she’s going to say more but Jana and Ice are both coming over, the two of them together creating an almost overwhelming whirlwind of energy. They don’t question Azzi’s presence at all, looking vaguely eager as they approach.

“Hi Azzi, Paige,” Ice says. “Are you coming out with us for drinks next week, Azzi?”

Azzi turns to Paige, who shrugs as if to say up to you. 

“I might,” Azzi says, uncertainly, and in an effort to be nice, she adds, “sounds like a real party.”

“The last time I was at a party was when my sister got kidnapped,” Jana says thoughtfully and Azzi isn’t sure which part of that statement should be addressed first.

“What?” She settles on.

“It was a search party, obviously,” Jana amends. “Not like a ‘ha-ha’ party. We were all very worried.”

“Sorry,” Paige says, looking as dazed as Azzi feels. “Did you say your sister got kidnapped?” 

“It was a misunderstanding!” Jana says brightly. “You know, KGB agents and stuff. She was alright in the end.”

“Good for her!” Ice says, evidently not bothered by this story at all. 

As the pair leave, Azzi turns to Paige and mouths kidnapped? Paige shrugs helplessly.

“What did you tell them anyway?” Azzi asks once the two of them are out of earshot. “About like- this whole thing?”

“About you propositioning me?” Paige asks, and Azzi winces at the word choice. “Nothing. I was going to lie and say we were dating if someone asked, but no one’s asked.”

Azzi pauses. “You were going to lie to your teammates for me?” She asks, feeling strangely warm at the thought.

“I would’ve tried,” Paige says, grinning. “I think I overestimated how much attention they pay to their surroundings.”

She pats the spot on the bench next to her. “Are you getting back from practice?”

“Yeah,” Azzi says, sliding onto the bench, so that she’s straddling it, facing Paige, one leg on either side. “Mats today.”

Paige hums a questioning noise, her eyes still focused on the tape she’s wrapping around her stick.

“When you do like jumps and stuff,” Azzi shares, feeling strangely shy. “You have to practice somewhere you won’t get hurt as bad before you try on the ice.”

“Can you get the same effect?” Paige asks, seeming genuinely interested. “Like, isn’t it different on the mats versus the ice?”

Azzi is struck, just then, by how strange it is to be sitting here, talking to Paige like a normal person, explaining the details of figure skating to her like they’re friends.

“Um,” she says out loud. “Yeah, it’s different. But it helps to get the footwork down.”

Azzi keeps talking, feeling like she’s separating a little from his body as Paige keeps working on her equipment, nodding along at all the right places, asking questions when Azzi stops speaking.

When Jayden slams a hand down on her shoulder, it feels like a sharp and unwelcome return to reality.

“I thought I’d drop by, but you weren’t at the bus stop,” Jayden says, in a stupid long coat that makes him look like three children stacked on top of one another. Azzi frowns.

“Paige is driving me home today,” she says, and Jayden turns to look at Paige who’s briefly paused her work to observe their interaction.

“So this is the girlfriend, huh?” Jayden says brightly.

Azzi nods, and stands up, moving to stand behind Paige, nudging her back gently. She feels a little jittery already, and she mostly just wants Jayden to leave, to let Azzi return to the conversation she had been having before he arrived.

“We actually have to leave,” she announces, and she can see Paige start to place her equipment into her bag again, starting to pack up. “Sorry to ditch as soon as we see you.”

“I was just wondering,” Jayden says, ignoring this, “because you guys don’t seem very coupley at all. Not to judge, or anything.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Azzi says sharply. “What does ‘coupley’ even mean?”

Couple things, she thinks desperately, what are couple things?

Her smile beginning to twitch at the corners, she reaches down and very hesitantly places a hand on Paige’s shoulder. Her face immediately begins to burn, blood rushing upwards so fast she’s starting to feel dizzy. That was so fucking stupid.

Straight-faced, Paige reaches up and pats Azzi’s hand. Pats it. Once, twice, and stops, returning to her task.

Azzi isn’t sure whether she wants to laugh or cry. This is where their attempt at public displays of affection ends, apparently. Azzi slowly lowering her hand onto Paige’s shoulder like she’s touching a hot stove, and Paige patting that hand twice.

She looks down to see Paige’s face and Paige looks back up at her, and when their eyes meet, Azzi can see that for once, they’re in complete agreement. We are terrible at this.

Jayden doesn’t seem to miss the terrible awkward exchange (it would be like missing an especially bloody train wreck, in Azzi’s opinion), judging by the narrowed suspicious eyes he’s aiming at the two of them.

“Strange,” Jayden comments, casually, so casually. “Azzo normally goes for brunettes”

That is both underhanded and untrue. She does not go for brunettes. Azzi doesn’t “go for” many people at all at all. People go for her. They might as well just show up at her house and form an orderly queue.

Azzi is currently less worried about the slander of her reputation and more worried about whether Paige would get worked up and hit Jayden over this.

“Really?” Paige asks, tipping her head back to look at Azzi for confirmation.

“I don’t chase,” Azzi says lightly. “I attract.”

Paige rolls her eyes, not meanly- something Azzi could mistake as fond if she didn’t know any better. “Well, there you have it,” she tells Jayden.

“She doesn’t like hockey players much, either,” Jayden says, clearly still on this. This part, at least, is true.

“Are you trying to ask a question?” Azzi asks, her tone biting.

Jayden is not phased by Azzi’s biting tone. “Just seeing if she’s really up to your usual standards,” she says, and Azzi wouldn’t even blame Paige if she hit him for that one. Still, she tightens the hand on Paige’s shoulder in warning.

Azzi shouldn’t have worried because Paige doesn’t even blink, just lifts her eyebrows, slightly sardonic. “Are we having a dick measuring contest? I would've brought my ruler.”

“Not a contest,” Jayden says, that fake smile slipping off his face. “I was just asking some questions.”

Paige snorts, continuing to pack up her gear. “Ask away.”

“Ask away later,” Azzi says hastily. “Because we have to go right now. No time for an interrogation.”

“Not an interrogation, either,” Jayden says, sticking his chin in the air. “Alright, I’ll go. Give you two some privacy.”

He looks at the two of them as though she’s expecting them to tell him to stay. When nothing is forthcoming, he turns on his heel and strides away, hands tucked into the deep pockets of that flaring coat.

“Looks like fucking Vader in that thing,” Paige comments, swinging her bag over her shoulder. “Cartoon supervillain.”

They start walking towards the exit, the small musty hallway that leads into the parking lot.

“You handled that surprisingly well,” Azzi says. “I kind of expected you to hit him.”

Paige glances at her out of the corner of her eye, that familiar scowl on her face again. “I’m not that easy to piss off. It takes a little more than that to rile me up. Give me some credit.”

Azzi stares at her, mouth agape. “Are we talking about the same Paige? You’re so easy to rile up. Incredibly easy. It’s thrilling every time.”

Paige comes to a stop, and turns to point a thick finger at her chest. The two of them are standing alone in the dark hallway leading to the exit door, one dusty light bulb flickering on and off above them. The bruise on her face is turning a nasty colour, unlikely to fade for another week.

“You,” Paige says, squinting at her accusingly, “are just a special breed of irritating.”

With that, she turns and walks away, leaving Azzi standing still behind her, watching her retreating back.

“Was that a compliment?” Azzi yells after her, not moving from her spot. The sound of Paige’s answering laugh echoes off the walls, bouncing back towards her, Azzi’s lips pulling up in response, as she runs to catch back up.

“Wait,” Paige says, once they’re in the parking lot. Night has already fallen, early in the wintertime, the pavement around them lit up by tall streetlamps, casting yellow light over their faces. “Here, I’ll get in the passenger seat, and you drive.”

“Are you sure that’s safe?” Azzi asks, not moving.

Paige shrugs, already moving around to the passenger seat. “Come on, the lot is empty, I’ll teach you how.”

“Do you even know how?” Azzi asks, reluctantly accepting the keys Paige is proffering towards her, “I kind of figured that you just annoyed the test takers with your persistence until they let you pass.”

“Bruh,” Paige says mildly. “Go on, get in.”

Once Azzi’s sitting in the driver’s seat, she just stares at the wheel. There seem to be an awful lot of controls.

She turns to Paige. “What now?”

“Well, first you have to buckle your seatbelt,” Paige says, and Azzi scowls.

“I know that.” She doesn’t move.

Paige sighs. She seems to do that a lot around Azzi. Then Azzi is frozen for a different reason, as Paige leans over her, one hand gripping Azzi’s shoulder as she reaches for Azzi’s seatbelt, smooth muscle shifting under her skin as she brings it over Azzi’s body and buckles it.

“Dear god,” Azzi whispers. Paige smells good.

“Relax,” Paige says, taking her mumblings for nervousness. “You can’t possibly mess up that bad.”

Azzi frowns. “How do you know that? I could be the worst driver you’ve ever met.”

“I doubt it,” Paige tells her. “I crashed the car the first time I took the test.”

Azzi stares at her. Then she starts the car.

“Right pedal is gas, left is brake,” Paige says. “You have to put the car in reverse to get out of the spot, and then press lightly on the gas.”

“Right,” Azzi says, and moves the gear stick accordingly before pressing on the gas. The car lurches forward, coming to a jerky stop right before hitting the curb in front of them, Azzi’s blood draining entirely from her face.

“So, that was actually drive,” Paige says calmly, one hand braced on the window. “Reverse is lower.”

Once Azzi gets used to the controls, they manage to go in large bumpy circles around the parking lot.

“How did you fail the second time?” Azzi asks, carefully executing another terrible turn.

“Try to stay on the right side,” Paige says, unbothered by the possible damage Azzi is inflicting on her car. “I almost hit a stop sign. They got really mad about that one.”

“I would be making so much fun of you over this if I wasn’t so tense right now,” Azzi informs her. "Remind me to do it later."

“Looking forward to it- make sure you’re slowing down before you turn.”

“What about the third time?” Azzi says. She presses too hard on the brake, and the car nearly comes to a full stop in the middle of her next turn.

Paige seems to be pouting, by the sound of her voice. Azzi debates taking her eyes off the road long enough to check. “I waited almost a full year before taking it the third time. I practiced basically everyday. It went so well, the instructor was telling me I was one of the best drivers he’d tested that year.”

Azzi snickers. “And?“

“And on the way into the test center parking lot,” Paige says, “I hit the curb. Automatic fail. They wouldn’t even let me test at that center anymore, I had to go out of the city. Never trusted a driving instructor since.”

Azzi gives up on trying to hold back and bursts out laughing. To her surprise, the car doesn’t immediately crash.

“You’re laughing,” Paige says, and her face is stony, but Azzi can hear the smile in her voice. “I share my deep, personal, insecurities with you, and you’re laughing at me.”

Azzi shakes her head, small giggles still escaping her. “Those poor test administrators, you must have made them miserable.”

She can imagine it very easily, a smaller, angrier Paige, marching into a testing center with the energy of a Marine off to combat. The thought makes her snort with laughter.

“You look pretty when you laugh,” Paige says, and it’s that soft, honest voice, so rare to hear from her. Azzi’s laughter breaks off as she turns to look at her, captivated by that gentle sincerity, so unexpected from this girl, so sweet to hear.

“Az- the brakes!”

The car rolls over a curb and comes to a slamming halt right before a small tree, the branches brushing the windshield, leaves already fallen off in the winter cold.

She called me Az, she thinks, and presses her forehead into the steering wheel and smiles- a small giddy smile, just for herself

[aurorasdaybreak]

the love shot °˖➴ caleb xia (m)

summary: usually, you're able to keep apart love and hate with ease. but with him, you find that the two are not only more similar than they seem, but also deeply intertwined - to the point you can't separate them anymore. info: farspace fleet colonel!caleb x hunter afab!reader | story compliant | fluff, angst, smut | 18+ | 10k words warnings: some angst, some fluff, mostly smut, possessive!caleb bc ofc he is, possessive!mc bc have you seen his myth?? she did not want to let go AT ALL, (light) spoilers for caleb’s myth, timeline wise this happens i’m considering this an extension of painful signal that might be out of timeline whoopsies (;—;), kissing, making out against a wall, teasing, inappropriate use of evol, dom!caleb, sub!f!reader, choking, f!receiving fingering, f!receiving oral, edging, marking, praise, degradation (slut, cockslut), f!multiple orgasms, squirting, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!), kinda sappy sex, cervix fucking(ish), caleb checking in bc he’s going hard (and consent and checking in is sexy!), ending is sappy and fluffy?? idk (T_T) author’s note: hi hi hello! i'm new to lads tumblr (but not to writing) and i'm very excited to be here :') it's been a little bit since i've written, so pls be kind but also pls feel free to leave your thoughts in my askbox!! i hope you enjoy :D disclaimer: not beta read, will edit soon for any mistakes!! if you are a minor and you're seeing this, i ask that you turn away and do not read. this is an 18+ story and minors are not welcome. if you are uncomfortable with any of the topics listed in the warning, please do not read this story! °˖➴ inspired by love shot by exo

It’s been hard for you to distinguish what’s true and false these past couple of weeks.

When you took your leave, you had deemed it as a necessary distraction from all of the grief and pain that’s been greeting you in your apartment. You had established your universe’s truths before you touched base in Skyhaven: you’re a Deepspace hunter, you’re here to find links between Ever and the Farspace Fleet, and you’re definitely not using this half-baked mission to run away from what haunts you at night.

An explosion. A necklace just out of reach. Amethyst eyes, dismayed yet hiding something that you couldn’t quite decipher.

You had grown numb to the pain, but that didn’t mean it never left you alone.

When you had gotten into formation waiting for the new Farspace Fleet colonel, you were sure of the reality that you were living in. As lackluster as the world had gotten, it still turned, and you couldn’t wallow and let your anguish eat you alive.

So you stood, holding your breath and waiting to catch a glimpse of the new colonel…

…only for everything you knew to be shattered in an instant.

Because it was him.

But was it really?

In the weeks that followed, you stayed with him and learned new things that kept threatening to disturb the peace you fought to maintain. You learned of his monumental rise through the ranks, the secrets he tried to stash away, even what his workload entailed.

You also learned how wicked he could truly be, bending your trust until you thought it would shatter in between his fingers.

After uncovering the real truth, you had returned to Linkon City and relayed all you knew to Jenna - minus the enigmatic colonel the Association was chasing after. How could you even begin to tell her that the Farspace Fleet’s most feared leader is your childhood best friend? The one that you swore blew up right before your very eyes?

You couldn’t, not without uncovering the truth for yourself first.

So you went back to Skyhaven, spending more days with him.

Looking back on it now, it was almost like when you were kids. He took care of you, cooking your favorite meals and doting on you like he always did. There were soft, stolen moments that you tried to keep at the forefront of your brain, but it was hard to grasp on that warmth when there was an underlying chill in the moments you’ve shared.

You didn’t know then, but you now know the extent of just how wrong things have been within the ranks of the Farspace Fleet. The Toring Chip, memory resets when emotions get too high…people becoming a shell of what they used to be.

You didn’t think that all of this could even exist, much less be possible and be used in such an unfeeling way. In your heart of hearts, you just didn’t want to believe it because it meant that he had gone through it. You had been delusional enough to think he had dodged it.

But all it took was one call from Gideon for you to uncover the truth. Now…

Now, you’re taking in the sight of Caleb Xia’s metal arm in your hands.

You and him are sitting side by side on his makeshift cot, thighs pressed together as you turn the foreign part in your palms. He complies with your silent assessment, moving his arm up and down so that you can examine every angle. Something violent begins to brew in your stomach as you run your fingers along the smooth metal - a rage that you don’t quite know how to quell because you’ve never felt something of this magnitude before.

You almost welcome it. It’s preferable to the gray haze you’ve been living in these past couple of months.

“Do you remember the process?” Your voice is deceptively calm as your palm slides down the length of his forearm so that you can grab his wrist, and you rest his hand in your lap so that you can play with his fingers.

There’s a beat of silence before Caleb lets out a sigh. He pulls his hand from your lap and presses it into his thigh, the joints of his fingers creaking just a little bit at the sheer amount of force he exerts on his own skin. You tut at this, and you grab his wrist again so that you can help his hand relax. You take your time in unfurling each of his metal digits, gently straightening each of them at the knuckle so that they no longer crease. The action has Caleb relaxing, and you try not to shiver when you feel him rest his head on your shoulder.

“I only remember the pain.” It’s a quiet admission, one that leaves his lips and gently ruffles the hair by your ear like a summer breeze carrying a heavy secret. His fingers curl around your own and he squeezes tightly, you returning the same strength. “Looking back, I was thankful for just how excruciating it was. It reminded me that I was alive and that I wasn’t gonna waste my second chance.”

“I hate that you can’t feel much with it anymore.” Your tone is bitter as you shift away from his side, giving you space so that you can properly process all of the information you’ve just been given.

“I don’t just feel much, I feel nothing at all.” Caleb says it with a self-deprecating humor, but you can only scoff as you push yourself off of the cot and stand in front of him.

“I meant what I said about making the Farspace Fleet pay.” You cross your arms and tilt your head to the side, giving him a serious look. “They can’t get away with everything that they’ve done to you and your comrades - hell Caleb, everything they’re doing right now!”

“How do you propose you do that, ____?” He laughs, but it’s not a happy sound as he grabs the back of your thighs and forces you closer, pulling you into his lap so that you straddle him. You tilt your head down so that you can avoid his eyes, and his chest rumbles at your action. 

He tilts your chin up with his metal hand, and you shiver at the restrained strength in which he holds your face. His eyes are cold and his fingers twitch slightly. You should be scared, but somehow you aren’t. There’s a fire that ignites at your proximity, one that’s slowly beginning to spread along your entire body and makes your head spin at its ferocity.

“You can’t just burn the Farspace Fleet down.” It’s almost as if he can read your mind, and you wouldn’t be surprised if he gleaned those thoughts from just one look on your face. “I can’t tell you everything, ____ - but I promise you, things will get better for me, for us.”

That last word has you stilling and dropping your gaze so that you don’t have to look head on at him. You catch a quick glimpse of the silver against his chest, the words When U Come Back highlighted by the silvery light of the moon. Those words feel like a sick joke because the man you gave them to may be here physically - but he’s not really your Caleb.

You reach up to gently pull his metal hand off of your chin, and you can feel the burning of his gaze as you drop your mouth to his right shoulder. You feel his breath hitch when your lips meet the junction of skin and steel, his exhalation shaky when your tongue lightly flicks the slight divot. The taste of salty bitterness lays heavy in your mouth, and you pull away to look back up at his failing restraint.

“Did you feel that?” It’s rhetorical and you both know it from the way you’ve rendered him speechless. His lips form a thin line as your hands make their way up his torso, giving you an anchor as you stare into his eyes. “You say you can’t, but it’s clear that you do.”

Your fingers begin to draw circles on his shoulders, and you try your best to even your breathing so that he can’t see just how affected you are. You can’t afford to show any weakness, not in front of this imposter who wears your dead best friend’s face. 

“I used to be able to read you so clearly.” It’s a whisper, and you let your forehead fall against his collarbone. “I used to know everything just from one look on your face. I hate that they took that from me.”

“Me wearing my heart on my sleeve and showing my weakness?” It’s meant to come out as a scoff, but you can hear the vulnerability in his tone.

“I was thinking more your honesty.” You feel his chest rise quickly, and you shake your head as you chuckle bitterly. “Of course you’d think it’s a weakness now.”

You bite your lip when you hear his hands leave the sheets, and your eyes slip shut when they settle on your waist. The chilling cold and comforting warmth serve as a reminder of the past you crave so much and the present you’re currently dealing with - the cold and calculated colonel versus your childhood best friend who scored himself onto your heart.

Time ticks slowly as he mulls over his response, and your breaths are shallow as you wait for his words. Above you, Caleb swallows thickly before settling on his carefully chosen words.

 “I did it to protect you.”

You quietly suck in a breath, and it’s like even the air in the room has gone still at his quiet admission.

He takes your silence as your permission to continue with his reasoning. The words muffle when they reach your ears though - not because you’re not interested, but because you know it’s not true.

The Caleb you knew would never keep secrets from you. He would be honest, he would never stay away from you for as long as he did.

So why did he?

Are you a burden to him?

Your blood runs cold at the continuous stream of velvet sweetness streaming from his lips, and you shake your head as you push yourself up and away from his suffocating presence. “Bullshit.”

You feel Caleb’s chest stop, your expletive taking him by surprise. “____?”

“I call bullshit, Caleb Xia.”

It’s filled with venom and you clamber away, taking deep breaths and willing yourself to wake up from this suffocating nightmare. You focus your gaze on the single strand of raven hair that sways upright in the nighttime breeze because you know if you look into his eyes, you’ll crumble at his feet. “You didn’t do it for me, you did it to save yourself. Not once did you care for me-”

“That’s a lie and we both know that.” His words are just as harsh as he pushes himself up from the cot, and your eyes pass over his face as his height forces you to see every emotion dancing on his face. “____, I’ve been through the fucking ringer. You have no fucking idea what I had to do to get to this point, what I sacrificed just so I could reach the top all the while protecting my heart.” It comes out raw and his biting words soften at the last word, but you still roll your eyes as you cross your arms to protect yourself.

“So tell me what you did.” They’re quiet but lethally so, satin hiding the steel intent in your words. “Tell me the fucking truth, Caleb. Tell me every painful detail so that I can try to begin to understand you.”

You don’t realize it, but you walk forward until you’re stopped in front of him, back in his space. You hate yourself just a little bit for not being able to fully pull back, but you know deep down you can’t stay too far away from him anymore.

You’re afraid he’ll be taken from you from right under your fingers.

“And in return, I’ll try to tell you the excruciating hurt I went through mourning you and Gran.” Your voice wavers and you grip at your biceps, digging your nails into the muscle to steel yourself. “I’ll try to tell you how fucking awful it felt burying two empty caskets, standing at honor ceremonies, and staring up at my ceiling at night wondering if my dreams would be warm from the happy memories or from the fire that resulted from the blast. I’ll try to explain the emptiness I felt for the months after, because while you were here doing whatever you did to get to the top, I was left with the ghost of you.”

Your lip trembles and you unfold your arms, pressing your palms against your cheeks to furiously wipe away the tears that have begun to course down your face. The room stands still as your shoulders shake, and you can feel his heavy gaze on your head.

“I should have never gone here,” you whisper once your tears subside, leaving you with the bitter emptiness you’ve grown acquainted with. “At least you would’ve stayed dead, and I wouldn’t have grown to hate what you’ve become.”

You turn on your heels and spin around, trying to make your way out of the hidden room. You’re barely able to take two steps before you feel a cool brush against the back of your neck, and you gasp when his metal fingers grasp tightly at your shoulder.

“Repeat that last statement again.” His fingers tighten slightly as he walks in a direction, and a gasp escapes your lips at the sudden proximity and your back meeting a wall. His hand moves up so that his fingers can wrap around your neck, thumb tilting your chin up and forcing you to look at the Colonel standing in front of you as he presses down on the column of your throat just a little bit harder.

“I s-should have never gone h-here.” They leave in puffs, but you still force enough conviction to gain a harsher look in his eyes.

“And?” His voice is clipped, and a sudden pang of fear strikes your spine when you see the wires attached to the machine begin to rise: a sign of him losing his grip on his Evol. “I specifically remember something about hate.”

Your mouth runs dry and your eyes widen, taking in the implication of his words. Caleb laughs humorlessly at your reaction, his fingers slightly loosening and giving you a little taste of the clean air you didn’t realize you were craving.

“Tell me you hate me, ____.” The venomous words are juxstaposed by his gentle tone and his human hand reaching up and gently tucking a piece of hair behind your ear, his warm fingers squeezing your ear lobe and serving as a reminder that somewhere deep down, he’s still your Caleb. “Tell me you hate me, and I’ll let you leave. I’ll disappear for good. I’ll become the ghost you’ve always wanted.”

Your future hangs in a delicate balance as you process his words, turning over the possible options in your head. You’d grown used to living without him and Gran after the explosion. Life was dull, but you’d begun to move on. Staying here and letting him back in would undo the progress you’ve made - it would force you to confront ugly truths you’re not sure you’re ready to face.

But on the other hand…

You don’t think you can do the rest of your life without him. You need him like the air you breathe and the water you drink - he’s vital to your survival like the weapons you wield when you face Wanderers on the field. He’s an extension of you, a reminder of the life you’ve lived and the life that’s ahead of you.

But that life is meaningless without him…even if it’s this twisted, darker version of Caleb you barely know.

You’ve made up your mind.

“I hate you, Colonel Xia. I loathe you with every fiber of my being.” You barely gasp out the words before your arms wrap around his neck and pull him down, bringing his lips to yours.

His reaction is instantaneous, his hands cupping your cheeks and forcing your neck at a higher angle so that he can kiss you more deeply. His body presses yours against the wall, and he swallows the gasp that leaves your lips. It’s angry, full of bitter resentment from the past couple of weeks. His tongue sweeps across your bottom lip and you barely open your mouth wide enough before he forces himself in, tongues tangling before he ultimately wins the battle for dominance.

His hands shift, going from your cheeks to back down your neck before sliding down your back and cupping your hips. He squeezes the flesh and it has your head reeling, pulling away from his lips to gasp for air.

Your head falls back against the wall, and your chest heaves as you suck in air greedily into your lungs. Your fingers grasp his shoulders and you feel your stomach flip at the tortured groan that escapes his mouth, right before he pulls you in even closer to him and kisses you again.

It’s another battle for victory, and you win a point when your fingers reach up to pull at his hair. Caleb’s mouth falls even wider at the sensation and you use that timing to your advantage, allowing yourself to bite and suck at his bottom lip. He groans again, and the sound sends shivers down your spine and causes you to smirk against his mouth.

“What, tired already?” You can’t help the taunting tone that enters your voice, and he pulls away just enough so that you can see the steely resolve on his face.

“In your dreams,” Caleb retorts. His hands shift from your hips to your ass and you try to mask the whimper that nearly escapes you as an exhale, but you know he knows by the huff against your lips that you’ve failed.

He uses your daze to pull your hips even closer to his front, and your eyes roll back into your skull when you feel his rapidly hardening length in his slacks. “This is what you do to me, ____.” He grinds his hips against yours, and this time you can’t quite help the moan that leaves your lips. “You drive me fucking insane.”

You don’t even offer a retort, instead choosing to pull him back down again so that you can kiss him again. He willingly lets you, and you bite down on his lip hard when his palms squeeze at your ass. He taps two fingers against the flesh and your arms tighten around his neck, giving him the chance to slide his hands to the back of your thighs and wrapping your legs around his waist with ease.

Caleb walks out of his makeshift infirmary back into his living room, dodging furniture with ease as you press your lips against his jaw. You feel his chest rumble against yours as you begin to nip and suck blossoms under his chin, and his hands squeeze your ass in warning when you begin to mark up his neck.

You barely register that you’re in his (your?) bedroom until you land onto the bed on your back with a gasp. You bite your lip when you see Caleb kick off his slippers and socks before making his way over to the bed, grabbing your thighs and dragging you to the edge of the bed before letting his palms settle on your hips.

“You know that marking Skyhaven property is a punishable offense?” Caleb’s voice is a drawl as his fingers massage their way up your sides, dipping underneath your shirt and tracing circles that have your patience thinning. “You can be fined or jailed. Depends on the severity, though.”

“W-what does it matter?” Your voice leaves in a gasp as Caleb’s hands finally slide underneath your shirt, giving you the touch you so desperately crave.

“Think about it, pips.” Caleb pulls you up by your waist, and your head spins as he nudges your thighs apart with his knee. “What were you doing just now?”

“Caleb, what-” You can barely think as he guides your arms up, working your shirt over your head before tossing the garment somewhere in his room. He pushes you back down onto the bed, and you feel your eyes begin to close at the hazy, almost animalistic look in his own gaze. His hands pinch at your hips, though, and your eyes snap back open to meet his once again.

“Think, ____.” There’s an edge to his voice as his hands return to your waist, slowly making their way up to your ribcage. “What were you doing to me in the living room?”

You can barely think, mind clouding in need as his thumbs brush the underside of your bra cups. He skims the digits along the underside, letting his nails trace the lacy material - making you swallow thickly as you try to place your answer. 

Your eyes catch the blossoming purple on his neck, and you finally put two and two together. “All because I gave you hickeys?”

“Good girl.” There’s a touch of humor in his voice, and he rewards you by sliding his thumbs underneath your bra and running the rough digits along the swell of your breasts. Your head lolls back at the stimulation, although annoyance flares in your stomach - mixing with the desire and lighting a savage flame in your body.

“That’s dumb as fuck.” It’s a moan, but you can feel his annoyance by the way his hands stop.

“Why is that?” Caleb’s hands make their way to your back, and you lift your torso so that he can struggle with your bra’s clasps. “I’m the Farspace Fleet’s colonel, ____. And my uniform’s gonna have a hard time covering the gifts you’ve given me, pips.”

“Because, Caleb,” you laugh when he fumbles with the clasps, and the irritation on his face gives way to a slight look of endearment that has your heart clenching. You make your heart calm down before you continue with faux confidence. “Because, you were mine first.”

His hands stop at your words, and you meet his eyes with unwavering honesty in response to his incredulous stare. “Pips, what-”

“You’ll always be mine.” Your hands tremble when you lift them to his face, but your touch is sure as you brush a strand of hair off of his forehead. “You’ll never be their property because they can’t take my Caleb away from me.”

The air in the room stills as he pulls his body away from yours, registering the weight of your words. You suddenly feel cold all over and you begin to shiver, although it’s not from the temperature of your current surroundings.

Why did you say that in your stupid, lustful daze?

And why do you suddenly feel nervous about his reaction?

Your eyes land on the hickeys your lips and teeth have left on his chest, the littered marks suddenly making you feel self conscious. What a stupid thing to do. Maybe you should stop-

You feel a sudden pressure on your torso as you’re forced back onto the bed, not realizing that you had pushed yourself up onto your forearms. You look up to see Caleb’s stormy eyes - lust and anger and another emotion you can’t quite place clouding his entire face. His palms land on your bra cups, and you can barely gasp in shock when he grips the lace and tears it clean off your body.

“Caleb!” Your annoyance is evident, and you look up at him with a thin press of your lips. “That was one of my favorite pairs-”

Your statement falls flat when he cups your bare breasts, and you gasp when you feel his thumbs roll against your nipples. He readjusts your body so that your hips are on the edge of the bed, and he lets his face fall into the crook of your neck.

“I’ll buy you a new pair.” There’s a new rawness in his voice, and you shiver when you feel his tongue flick at your earlobe. “I’ll buy you whatever the fuck you want, but it’ll be from me.”

His mouth moves down your neck, and you cry out when you feel his teeth catch your nipple. He flicks at the little bud with the tip of his tongue, and his metal hand begins to pinch and rub at the other, making you rub your hips against his as you gasp.

“You’re so fucking mine, ____.” Caleb’s mouth leaves your breast, and he places a soft kiss against the skin where your heart beats. “It’s you and me, pips.”

His tongue leaves a trail from your chest up to your neck, and he kisses your jaw before nudging your nose against his and letting his forehead fall against yours. “You’re not leaving, ever again.”

It’s a whispered promise, and your eyes flutter shut when your mouth meets his once again. While your first kiss was angry and turbulent, this one is sweet and seals his vow - a slow press of lips, a swipe of his tongue against your bottom lip, and a pace that builds the desperation that’s been festering in the pit of your stomach.

Caleb’s mouth begins to leave a feathery trail, slowly mapping a path from your chin and down the column of your throat. Your breathing stops when he reaches your chest, but he elects to pass your nipples entirely and continue his way down your stomach - finally reaching the skin that’s covered by your pants.

It feels like your nerves are going to ignite at any second - the fire that’s been slowly flickering about to consume you from the inside out. You feel his fingertips slide their way under the band of your pants and you don’t even need to think about it, you just lift your hips up so that he can pull the fabric off of your body.

Your eyes blink open at the sharp intake of his breath when he sees you in nothing but the lace panties that match the bra he tore off, and you fight the urge to reach up and cover yourself. Sure, Caleb’s seen you in a variety of ways since your shared childhood, but never in a way that’s been this…intimate.

He catches your gaze, and you can’t help but smile at the flush that’s painting his cheeks. You watch as he kneels in front of you, and you whimper when his hands land on your thighs and open them as wide as he pleases - allowing him to slot himself in between your legs

Your chest begins to rise and fall in much shallower breaths when his left hand reaches up to touch the little white bow at the center front of your underwear. He toys with the little bit of fabric, and a smirk grows on his lips as his metallic fingers squeeze your plush flesh. “These are cute, ____.”

“They matched the bra you ripped.” Your voice is serious, but you bite your bottom lip and look up at him with a coy smile. “How are you gonna make it up to me, Colonel Xia?”

His body stiffens at your words, and a new layer of frost enters the room as he looks down at you coolly. His hands finally toy with the waistband of your panties, fiddling and sliding the band up and down in a way that lets you know that you’ve made a mistake.

“Don’t call me that.” His voice is clipped, but you can’t find it in yourself to heed his warning when he finally drags the scrap of lace down your thighs. He doesn’t take it fully off, though - he instead elects to leave them halfway down your thighs.

“Why not?” There’s a humorous note to your tone, and you’re surprised to find that you enjoy the sight of him blushing and at a loss for words. You bend your knee and lift your leg just the tiniest bit, angling your ankle so that it barely brushes against the bulge that’s straining against the front of his pants. His fingers tremble against your sides as he chokes at the stimulation, and you giggle and let your leg fall back down. “Is something wrong, Colonel Caleb?”

It’s like something in him snaps.

All of a sudden, he’s pressing your hips down onto the bed, and you can barely move. You gasp as Caleb’s body goes, kneeling at the edge of the bed and moving his head dangerously close to your weeping core. Your body heats in embarrassment and you try to snap your legs shut, but before you can do so he’s grabbing your knees and placing them on his shoulders.

“Don’t. Move.” It’s an impossible command, especially since you can feel the way his hair brushes against your core. Your eyes flutter shut, but they snap back open when you feel him pinch your knee. “And keep your eyes on me, ____.”

Time slows as you feel his lips brush against your knee, a whisper that makes you think you dreamt the sensation. You’re brought back to the present when you feel his lips move closer to the place you want him most - featherlight kisses and brushes of his hair enough to drive you to madness, but not enough to push you to the end you so desperately crave.

Caleb’s lips stop at your inner thigh, right before the place you want him most. You try your best to follow his orders, but it’s near impossible. Your patience is hanging on by a thread, and you don’t know just how long you can keep following what he wants.

Caleb feels your thighs tremble underneath his metal palm, and you know he can feel your desperation at the rumble of his laughter as he stops his teasing. “What’s wrong, ____? Can’t wait anymore?”

“N-no,” you stutter out, trying to hide how affected you are by him. “I-i’m just-”

“Just what?” There’s a potent venom that’s disguised by the honeyed tone he injects into his voice. If you closed your eyes, you would almost believe that he was actually concerned. “Just wanting me?”

You don’t know why, but this sets you off in a way you didn’t know was possible. You buck your hips, and you let out a soft cry when your core just slightly meets his mouth. Your eyes slowly slip shut as you buck your hips again and again, craving and wanting and begging-

But suddenly, your hips stop.

Your eyes widen as you realize just what he did to you, and your stomach flips in equal parts fear and want as you look down and see the cold, calculated smirk playing at the edge of his lips.

“I told you not to move, ____.” Caleb’s Evol pins your body to the mattress, and he uses his hands to spread your thighs as far as they can go with your panties restraining you. “And to keep your eyes on me. And since you’ve failed at those two commands, well...”

His teeth bite down at the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, and you cry out as he sucks harshly. Caleb pulls away to examine the hickey he created to match the ones you made on his neck, and you can’t help but moan when you see the possessiveness in his gaze.

“Caleb, plea-” you begin, but the words die on your tongue when he stares at you with that cold, calculated stare he only gives to those under his command.

“How many times did you move your hips?”

“What?” You’re confused by his question.

“How. Many. Times?”

He presses his lips into your skin after every word, his tongue sucking on your flesh and leaving more marks on your skin. Your mind spins as you try to count, and your answer leaves in a clumsy breath: “Three? Why the fuck does it matter?”

He hums at your response, shaking his head and giving you a smirk. “Oh, ____. You’ll learn soon.”

It’s all the warning you get before his metal fingers meet your pussy, carelessly dragging them up against your slit. A strangled cry escapes your body when the stimulation finally registers in your mind, and you try to buck your hips up so that you can begin to chase your high.

You’ve forgotten about his Evol, however, so you’re forced to feel the molten sensation spreading across your body.

“You’re so impatient, baby.” There’s a whisper of a laugh in Caleb’s voice as he continues to slide his fingers against your pussy lips, avoiding the one spot you want him to press down on the most. “What happened to all the patience I taught you?”

“You taught me jack shit-” you try to snap, but it cuts off into a moan when you feel his fingers dip slightly into your sopping hole. You gnaw at your bottom lip and glare at him, but all he does is work his finger gently into your hole and give you a shit-eating grin.

“Mmm, that’s right ____,” he hums sweetly, slowly working in the cold digit. You try your best to hold his gaze, but the combination of how cold and thick his ring finger is has your eyelids slowly slipping shut.

All of a sudden, you feel his finger pushing deep inside of you, and you cry out and meet his gaze. Caleb’s lips continue to display a twisted grin as he slowly retracts his finger, and you can’t even do anything about it because your hips are held in place by his stupid Evol.

“Sorry, pips.” You can tell he’s not sorry at all, but your sarcastic reply is cut off by a moan when he pushes his finger back in slowly. “You’re just too easy to tease.”

“You’re such an ass.” You can barely breathe from the pleasure he gives you with just a single finger, and you know he can see it from the way your head shakes back and forth on his mattress and the sweat that begins to make your body glisten. You hear Caleb groan from between your thighs, and you lift your head as far as you can manage and whimper at the sight of him thrusting his metal finger in and out of your cunt while his warm palm squeezes your thigh harshly.

You feel the telltale sign of your orgasm beginning to build in the pit of your stomach and you cry out, frustrated at not being able to buck your hips up. You close your eyes and let your head flop back onto the mattress, and you let the feeling wash over your entire being. You can feel yourself get closer and closer and closer until-

-until it fucking stops.

“What the fuck?!” Your eyes snap open and you crane your head up in desperation, only to be greeted by Caleb’s pleased face. His amethyst gaze meets your own, and you can only watch as he brings his finger up to his lips and sucks your want off of the metal like it’s the water he needs to survive.

“Fuck, ____-” Caleb groans, and before you can even register what he’s done, he places both of his hands on your thighs and presses his mouth against your soaking cunt.

“C-caleb!” You cry out. Your hands immediately shoot out and you intertwine your fingers with his soft hair so that you have something to anchor yourself in reality. Caleb groans at the dull ache at his skull but instead of slowing down he speeds up - making the sensations he forces on your body that much more intense.

Caleb’s tongue carelessly traces lines up and down your slit, and you nearly sob in relief when you feel the tip of his tongue finally flick at your clit. He repeats the motion again, and he laughs when he sees the way your hole begins to leak with more of your slick.

“I didn’t know you were that desperate, pips.” Embarrassment flares in the pit of your stomach, although it’s quickly flushed away when he presses the flat of his tongue against your entire pussy and licks up in one, slow stroke.

“M-more, Caleb-” You try to fight the tears that threaten to slide down your cheek, but it’s hard when Caleb continues his ministrations on your cunt. It feels too damn good, and you both know that you’re rapidly reapproaching the climax he so rudely ruined the first time.

Caleb looks up at you, and he can’t help but groans against your cunt at the sight that greets him. Your face is covered in both a light sheen of sweat and tears, and in his twisted mind he wants to lick your cheek just so that he can taste every bit of you. His amethyst eyes go lower, pausing to stare at the way your breasts heave up and down with every breath, down and down until he’s greeted again by the sight of the cunt he’s had dreams about for years.

Your hole is fully leaking by now, begging to be stuffed full of his cock and your clit is swollen from his tongue playing with it. Up above, Caleb can hear you begging to just give you what you want and, well…how can he refuse his girl?

You nearly scream when you feel his lips wrap around your clit, sucking on the sensitive bud while he begins pistoning his fingers in and out of your sloppy cunt. Having gone from a gentle stream of pleasure to a full on tsunami, your brain doesn’t know what to focus on or what to do. You’re about to fall apart at the seams, so you do the only thing you know to do in this moment in time:

You cry out his name.

“Caleb!”

“That’s right, ____.” He commands in a soft yet dangerous voice. His fingers pick up their pace, and a strangled moan leaves your mouth. “I want you to scream, baby. There’s no one here but the two of us so you can be as loud as you fucking want.”

“Oh fuck-” you hiccup, and your fingers tighten against his hair. “Caleb, your Evol-”

“No.” You can feel his head shake his dissent, but it only adds to your pleasure because his lips rub your clit from side to side. He mumbles something under his breath, but you can’t really find it in yourself to care because you’re approaching your climax again and you desperately want to fall apart.

You try to be discreet in your chase, willing yourself to dig your nails into your palm so that he can’t see the way your hands shake. Caleb takes your silence as your plateau, so he doubles his efforts: pistoning his fingers in and out of your pussy and laving little licks on your clit in a bid to bring you to the precipice.

Caleb’s lips pull away from your swollen bud and you try to protest the action by squeezing your thighs shut but he replaces his tongue with his thumb, pressing and rubbing at the nub to placate you. He looks up at your eyes, and you can feel your false bravado crumble at the devilish grin on his face. “You’re awfully quiet up there, pips.”

A broken moan slips out of your mouth, followed by a gasp of his name. “C-caleb-”

“Are you close, baby?”

All of your pride leaves your body at his simple question, and you nod while giving him your sweetest eyes so that he takes pity on you and allows you to cum. “‘m c-close-”

“How close?” Caleb’s fingers gradually pick up their pace, a smooth push and pull in and out of your cunt. You whimper at the feeling, only to whine into the air when you feel his fingers hook up to press into your sweet spot.

“C-close,” you gasp. Your hands leave his hair and you press your palms against your breasts, gently pinching at your nipples so that you can finally push yourself over the edge. You’re so close, you’re about to fall off-

“Not yet.”

Caleb pulls his fingers away from your cunt and you nearly scream in frustration, attempting to close wrap your legs completely around his neck so that his mouth can finish the job. Caleb’s much quicker, however, and he carelessly pushes your knees off his shoulders before standing up and peering down at you with a pleased smile.

“Is my girl desperate?” Caleb’s presence is commanding, but you can’t help but watch his hands as he reaches down to unzip his slacks. “____, I’ve given you so much pleasure but you don’t seem to remember that I’m human too.”

Your breath stops as he pushes the fabric and his boxers down his thighs, and you swallow thickly at the sight of his cock slapping his abs. For all your years living with him when you were kids, you’ve always been mindful of his privacy and never walking in on him naked. Your stomach flips at the length and girth of him, because how in the world is he going to fit into you?

“I’ll make sure I fit.” It’s almost like he’s reading your thoughts, and you look up to see a tender look on his face in response to what’s probably an apprehensive look on your own. He kicks off his underwear and slacks before grabbing at your panties and pulling them down your legs. He releases his Evol on your hips, and you take this as a signal to push yourself up to his headboard while he drops the scrap of fabric onto the floor, and he crawls up the bed so that he can brace himself on his forearms and look down at you.

Caleb smiles softly at you - a far cry from the man who was edging you to the point of tears. Despite everything you smile back, gently nudging your nose with his and eliciting a chuckle from his mouth. He presses a kiss on your cheek and you sigh, taking his sweet action as a chance to reach down and wrapping your hands around his cock.

A strangled sound emerges from the depths of his chest and his head falls to your chest as you pump his length, wanting to give him a fraction of the pleasure you experienced. Caleb’s breathing slowly grows more laboured, but before you can fully achieve your goals he grabs at your hand and stops.

“Not yet,” he slowly grits out, and he pulls your hands off of his cock and pins them both to the headboard with his left hand. His right hand guides his cock to your pussy, and you gasp when you feel his fat tip catch your clit. “I decide when the both of us cum, ____.”

He rolls his hips and you both moan - him from how your slick coats his dick, and you from how his cockhead slightly catches your sopping hole. Your hips buck up so that he can slip inside, but before you can succeed you can feel the telltale weight of his Evol pinning the lower half of your body down and rendering you immobile.

“Fuck you, Caleb,” you grit out through your teeth, and you want nothing more than to bite his neck. He winks at you in response, and he lets go of your wrists before placing both hands on your waist and rubbing comforting circles on your ribcage.

“I’m getting to that,” he jokes, and before you can offer a scathing response he slowly pushes his cock into your cunt. You gasp at the initial pressure of his tip breaching your entrance, but the gasp turns into a long drawn moan the more he forces his thick length - up until he bottoms out, and his balls hit the swell of your ass.

You can barely breathe in your current position - legs spread, his gravity Evol pinning you down to the bed, and your hands gripping the headboard like it’s your last lifeline to your sanity - and maybe it is.

It feels like the knot building in the pit of your stomach could snap at any moment - and Caleb knows it most of all.

“Tell me you want it, ____.” Your eyes flutter back into your skull as he rolls his hips. His cock hits deep inside of you, and a strangled breath makes its way out of your chest when he pulls back slowly.

“C-caleb-!” It’s a plea, and you try to fight against his Evol so that you can link your ankles against the small of his back and pull him closer into your cunt. “P-please-”

“Uh-uh.” It’s annoyingly patient as his left hand reaches out to brush your hair away from your sweaty forehead. His right hand drifts closer to your mound, and you cry out when his cool fingers roll one agonizingly slow circle onto your clit. “Beg, ____.”

You don’t know how, but your stupid pride has you biting your lip as you try to fight his Evol so that you can writhe on his mattress. Your head flips back in frustration, and you can only force out a small, teary “Fuck you.”

“Aren’t I already doing that?” Your pussy flutters at the smirk on his face, and a slight dose of satisfaction fills your chest at the choked moan he forces back, although you’re annoyed at how cocky he still looks. “Beg, ____.”

“No.” You’re proud at how your voice doesn’t waver, although that quickly goes away when you feel his hips pull back more until only his tip remains inside. “W-wait-”

“You know what I’m asking for, ____.” Caleb’s tone is deceptively sweet as he begins to rub circles on your clit, making you cry out in the painful pleasure. “Beg for my cock, and I’ll make you feel so fucking good you’ll want to stay here forever.”

“F-fuck!” You can feel your climax beginning to build again, rising from the plateau he had previously created with your two denied orgasms. Your eyes fall shut and tears escape as your head writhes on his pillow - body held still by his Evol so that you’re forced to feel every bit of pleasure he wreaks onto your body.

Caleb’s hips threaten to snap forward, but he forces himself still as he takes in the view of you underneath his body, barely speared on his cock but already delirious on the pleasure. It fills him with a sick sense of satisfaction - the fearless leader and daring Hunter reduced to a little cockslut writhing on only the tip of his dick. He has half a mind to pull out just so that he can make you sob from the emptiness, but he holds back and continues to rub little circles on your clit until you break.

“C’mon, ____.” It almost sounds teasing, and you sob when you feel yourself on the edge of the precipice - just about to fall off. “Say you want me.”

You’re deliriously out of your mind, and all pride leaves your body when you open your eyes and look at the face that has haunted you in your sleep for the past couple of months. “P-please Caleb! Please make m-me cum-”

“Fuck,” he swears, and you barely register him releasing his gravity hold on your body before he grips your knees and forces them on his shoulders once again, pressing his cock all the way in and hitting your sweet spot in one fell swoop.

“S-shit, Caleb!” It’s a scream as you cum, your eyes sliding shut. Your orgasm washes over your body and consumes you from the inside out, and all you can do is dig your nails into his shoulders to anchor you in the present. Caleb can barely hold himself together when he feels your release pelt at his thighs and balls, and he groans before gripping your calves tighter and drilling himself into your cunt.

“You’re such a slut, ____,” he rumbles as he angles your body up, pistoning his hips so that he can more easily reach your deepest spot. “You came just from me pushing my cock into your pussy? I thought you had more restraint than that.”

“C-caleb.” You’re sobbing at this point, the pleasure bordering pain. “Oh fuck, Caleb-”

He leans down and presses his mouth against your breasts, biting as he continues to thrust in and out of you. His lips create a trail of marks up the column of your neck until they press against your lips. Your mouth falls open easily, and he breathes harshly as your tongue grazes his.

“Look at what I’ve reduced the top Hunter to,” Caleb murmurs with gentle poison. He plants kisses all over your face, and the sweet gesture almost makes you forget that he’s ravaging you. “The sweetest little cockslut who only knows how to scream my name.”

Your only response is to cry out even louder, your hands sliding down and finding purchase on his broad back. Your nails dig into the muscle so that you can try and keep from spiraling deeper into your pleasure, and you’re rewarded with a groan against your mouth.

Caleb’s hips slow to a torturous pace, designed to make you feel every inch of him sliding in and out. Your walls tremble around his aching length and you whimper when he pushes in one final time and stops, letting the both of you catch your breath. Your head swims in your current position - you’re so unbelievably full of his cock, but you want more.

“Caleb.” You can’t hide the desperation in your voice, and your hips tilt just the tiniest bit so that you can feel a fraction of the pleasure he gave you. “I-I wanna c-cum again, please-”

You roll your hips more boldly this time, and he gasps when his tip hits your sweet spot. Your walls flutter and you squeal, your head falling back as you continue to grind yourself on his cock.

All of a sudden, you feel the heaviness of his Evol settle on your hips once more, forcing you to stop. You cry out and try to fight it, but the cool brush of metal on your chin forces you to open your eyes and look up.

And you find your blood running cold.

Because Caleb - oh, you can tell he’s mad.

His lips are straight, and you can tell that he’s holding himself back for the sole purpose of punishing you. His hips pull back until he’s fully unsheathed from your cunt, and you sob at the way your walls clench pathetically at the sudden emptiness.

You need him.

There’s a dark chuckle above you, and you know he can see the desperation on your face. There’s a wet plap!, and you register the sound of his dick slapping against your pussy before feeling it properly. You cry out again, and Caleb takes your open mouth as an opportunity to slap his cock against your cunt again.

He continues his action over and over until you find yourself at the edge again, begging for his cock deep in your pussy. You can barely make out the babbles escaping your mouth - not when you feel so fucking good and you want more.

All of a sudden he stops, and you feel his warm hand gently cupping your cheek. Your eyes open blearily, and you can see the concern on his face as he looks down at you. “You okay, ____?”

Your heart squeezes at the care on his face, and you turn your head so that you can press a kiss against his palm. You can hear his shaky gasp above you, and you look back at him with a small smile on your lips.

“‘’ okay.” It comes out as a slurred whine, and you look up at him imploringly. “I promise, I j-just feel too good.”

He laughs at this, and his head dips down so that he can kiss the skin of your throat. His lips make their way past your chin and all the way up to your lips, where he presses the softest kiss on your mouth that has you melting.

This is your Caleb.

This is the man you love.

You don’t want to say it, though. You don’t want to shatter the illusion.

So you kiss him back slowly, and you pull away before he can deepen your kiss so that you can whisper:

“Please Caleb, I want all of you.”

There’s a standstill as he processes your words, and he doesn’t give you time to think before his Evol is lifting once more so that he can arch your chest up to meet his. Caleb’s mouth presses against your lips once more, and you gasp as you feel his cock entering you once more - giving you exactly what you need.

There are no other sounds in your shared room besides your gasps and the sound of the headboard smacking against your wall. It feels like it’s just you and Caleb - and that’s exactly how you want it to stay.

Caleb grunts as he begins to deepen his thrusts, and he takes a chance to look down at you when he sees that your eyes are closed. His heart swells in his chest at the sight of you - marks on your neck and chest, sweat making your skin glisten, and feeling so good because of him.

He’s suddenly overwhelmed by all of this - all of you. The one he loves more than the entire world, the one he’s kept carefully locked away in the deepest recesses of his memories. He’s adding all of this to that special place. Every excruciating moment spent at the Farspace Fleet is worth it because he’s protecting his love - protecting you.

Caleb leans down, pressing kisses on your lips as he gradually speeds up again. “I’m gonna cum inside this pretty cunt, stuff you full of my cum and make you mine forever.” Each word is emphasized by a messy thrust, and you can barely register what he means because you just feel too good right now. “I’m going to take care of you f-forever, ____. It’ll j-just be us two, baby, f-fuck-”

His hips start to stutter and you cry out when you feel his metal fingers land on your clit, rubbing hard circles and driving you closer and closer to your edge. His warm hand makes its way to your hand, and you squeeze his fingers tightly when your palms meet so that you have something to hold on to when you give yourself completely to him.

“Let’s cum together, ____.” It’s a plea and you both moan when his tip batters at your cervix. His Evol on your body loosens and you immediately grind your hips up to meet his thrusts, making the both of you spiral closer towards your joined end.

“C-caleb,” you hiccup, fat tears rolling down your cheeks. “‘M-m, I’m about to cu-”

“It’s okay, you can cum.” He leans down and presses his lips against your forehead, pressing soft kisses while maintaining his pace so that you can fall off the edge safely. “Cum for me, baby.”

With his permission you finally allow yourself to fall, the knot in your stomach unraveling as you cum. It’s not as painful as the first time - this one is filled with more warmth, accompanied by Caleb’s mouth peppering doting kisses all over your face. You cry out at the duality of his sweet kisses and his hard thrusts, walls fluttering around his thick cock and begging for him to meet you at the end.

Caleb grits his teeth and continues to pump himself into your inviting heat as you writhe underneath him, feeling his hips stutter and his balls tighten at the sound of your sweet gasps and your fluttering walls around him. He brings your fingers up to his mouth and presses reverent kisses on each of your fingertips before bringing your palm to his lips and kissing the skin gently. The sweet gesture makes your eyes open, and you blearily look at him with a blissful haze.

“C-cum for me, Caleb.” It’s a soft command, one that makes him groan as your legs wrap around his waist to pull him in. “I want your cum in me, please Caleb.”

“Oh shit, ____-” He thrusts his cock into you one more time before stilling, his head falling onto your neck as he cums. You whine at the feeling of warmth, your walls weakly pulsing around his cock in an attempt to take all of him. His hands settle on your hips and he squeezes like his life depends on it, and you’re sure that you’ll leave bruises on the delicate skin.

You can’t find it in yourself to care, though. You want all of it.

His head lifts up from your neck, and you can’t help but giggle at the glassy look in his eyes. Your fingers move to push up the sweaty strands away from his forehead, but he catches your hands and pulls it toward his mouth.

You watch as he repeats the same tender action of kissing your fingertips, and your heart aches at the intimacy of it all.

“Are you the Farspace Fleet Colonel or Caleb Xia?”

Your question breaches through the content silence, and you hate that you have to say it. It’s something necessary though - a summary of everything that’s happened between the two of you, and his answer will determine how things go.

Caleb looks at you, a softness in his eyes that has your heart aching. He presses a kiss on your forehead, and he nudges your nose against his own before finally giving you his answer

“I’m both.” You gasp at his words, but his hands gently knead your waist and placate you. “I’m both, and it’s our reality now.”

He kisses your eyelids this time, and you feel your eyes water at the gentle intimacy. “I don’t know how I’ll make it up to you, ____. But I mean what I said. Everything I do is to protect you. I don’t know how, but I’ll make it up to you for as long as you want me to.”

His words taper off as he lets you mull over his meaning. You lips brush over his own, and he leaves a chaste kiss - leading you to come up with your response.

“You can start by cooking breakfast for me tomorrow.” The words are softened by your sleepy tone, and you hum in content at the gentle rumble of his laughter below you. “And by telling me what you remember from the start.”

“I promise.” He seals it with a kiss on your lips, and you smile sleepily at the tender action before you nuzzle yourself into his chest - letting yourself surrender to slumber.

a/n #2: i hope you enjoyed <3 pls leave your thoughts here!

[nobodyfamousposts]

Scarlet Lady Top 10 Favorite Characters: Number 10

For @zoe-oneesama

Number 9 Here

Okay, I realized as I was writing these that there is way way WAY too much to each of these and why to be able to put them all into one post, so I'm breaking them down into individual essays focusing on each one to keep them palatable.

So without further ado....

Number 10: EVERYONE

Yeah, I know it may be cheating but at this point it was the only choice I could make.

I came to regret making this list, specifically because I couldn’t seem to make up my mind as far as who all would be on it. I reread the entire series. I kept switching people in and out as I was reminded of characters or scenes I loved. And I came to a realization that there is no character in the whole of this series I didn’t enjoy to some extent that they didn't deserve some love in this list and I kind of wish I could have added all of them just to give them all some spotlight.

Yes, it is partly because everyone is vastly improved compared to Canon. But as I reread the series, it came to mind that if Canon didn’t exist and I didn’t have the comparison between the characters, I still very much would have loved this series and everyone in it.

Cause and Effect Exist

It's important to have a setting in which the characters and their actions make sense for the world they live in. When the setting is supposed to be modern day earth, we need the people to be able to show that they are capable of surviving in it on a day to day basis without being so massively incompetent that they would do something like accidentally ingesting poison. Or forgetting how to breathe.

I would think it would be obvious, but sometimes Canon makes me wonder. Which is never a good look for a show that is supposed to have some level of seriousness and involve superheroes.

Here’s the thing Canon can’t seem to get: when a majority of the things that go wrong in a plot are because of everyone having to be stupid to make the plot work, you have a problem with the writing. Changing the material in a story so that younger people can enjoy it does NOT mean dumbing down the characters and throwing in arbitrary lessons with no real reason to them. Even if the show itself is geared towards kids, you can’t treat the audience like they’re stupid.

In Scarlet Lady, the people aren’t stupid.

Silly, yes. Wrong, often. Overdramatic, definitely. But while they may make stupid choices sometimes, they aren’t so dumb that anyone should have concerns about their ability to function at a higher level than an overcaffinated 2 year old.

They’re fooled initially the way many of us would be with a biased story that hits the news first. Oblivious to the problems in a situation that they logically wouldn’t have much direct insight into. Prone to making mistakes and incorrect judgement the way that anyone would. That's normal. That's expected.

But they’re not so incapable as to forget things that happen right in front of them between one day and the next. Or even between one scene and the next.

Things carry over. We see cause and effect. We see consequences—bad and good. And those consequences extend not only for the episode or season but for the entire series.

Aurore KNOWs Alec cheated her before and maintains a tight control over him and prevents more of his antics.

Adrien and Alya maintain a cold attitude towards Lila for some time after her reveal as a liar. And it even remains a point against her as used by Chloe as herself and as Scar to discount what she says.

The boys of the class remember Adrien’s “love letter to Marigold” and try to win him her merch because they’re bros like that. 

Adrien himself remembers the instances of his dad being a massive prick and instead of being surprised and “sad boi uwuwu” each time it happens like it’s supposed to be a surprise that the massive prick would choose to be a prick, he very clearly moves through the stages of grief to the point of a sort of acceptance that involves planning around and even for him.

Gabriel’s horrible parenting and general lack of concern for Adrien or his wellbeing as he ends up a casualty of various akuma attacks was played off for laughs when such incidents occurred. Then they were brutally called out against him in the Finale as a way to counter his claims of doing everything for Adrien’s sake. And the big reveal of the Birthday Scarf…utilized in the last way anyone would have wanted.

And Chloe is perhaps the biggest example as her antics ARE NOT forgotten or ignored by anyone. The classmates still interact with Chloe and are relatively nice to her, but they don’t just forget that she’s treated them horribly. They don’t act surprised when she does anything horrible. Nor does anyone just laugh it off or excuse it as “just who she is”. We see follow up to her behavior—the class fully expecting her to cause trouble and actively try to plan around it. People calling her out on past behaviors. And even bigger consequences as time goes on. Such as Adrien breaking off the friendship. And a blink and you miss it fridge logic moment in Ikari Gozen when you realize that when they said she was banned from all future Gabriel-involved competitions, they meant it.

The fact that by the time the big reveal happened that Chloe was Scarlet Lady, no one was shocked.

Story-wise, this is showing the passage of time and the effect the events of the story are having. It’s showing that there is lasting impact and that what happens to the characters matters.

Meta-wise, this is Zoe rewarding us for paying attention.

Continuity exists in Scarlet Lady. Time exists. The people exist. When anyone does anything, you get the sense that they aren’t operating in a vacuum. The things they do matter. There are consequences. There is an impact. And if there is an impact in the story, there will be an impact on the audience.

Which leads to…

Character Depth/Character Growth

Usually in TV shows of this nature, if there ARE character arcs for the side characters, they only occur over the course of a single episode devoted to focusing on them before moving on elsewhere. 

Canon didn’t give us that much at all in favor of having every episode that should focus on other characters learning and growing instead forcing Marinette to be wrong in some way and learn an arbitrary lesson that often would have better served for someone else.

In Scarlet Lady, the arcs we get are impressive for all that they’re relatively unobtrusive. They aren’t big. They aren’t world-ending. And the thing is, most change in life isn’t. It can just FEEL that way.

Like the way it felt for Kim when he first found out Ondine liked him and then had his confession to her screwed up.

And the way it felt for Kagami when she lost that first match against Adrien.

Then there’s the way it felt for Chloe when she was dismissed by her mother, had her popularity go downhill, and ended up losing her Miraculous.

…or the way it felt for Adrien when he discovered his dad was Hawk Moth.

The reactions we witness are in a great part due to actions outside of the characters’ control, but are ultimately a result of the experiences they have had and the ways they have changed as a result.

The question becomes: are the characters that we meet at the beginning pretty much identical to how they are at the end? Is the world?

The answer in Scarlet Lady is no.

Whether because the characters themselves change or our perception of them does, we can see that they have all undergone some sort of events that create a difference between the start and end points.

Not all of them HAVE to undergo some big emotional arc. Not all of them NEED to. But the characters still mostly go through some sort of growth by the end that I feel make them stronger and healthier people.

You’ve got the big life-altering changes like Lila and Sabrina.

You’ve got the little changes like Nino and Ivan.

You’ve even got the most minuscule, beginning stages of change in Chloe.

You’ve got growth that creates such perfect setup with Mylene when she starts off scared and traumatized by how things went with Stoneheart then is the one who confronts him in the end. And the parallel between the finale and the beginning when she returns him to normal by kissing him just like they did in that first episode to change him back then, too! (Just….GOD, I CANNOT GET OVER THIS!)

You’ve got them reaching out and making friends and relating to people they hadn’t before.

And by the end of it all, we get characters who feel like people rather than props.

They don’t all have to change. They don’t necessarily need to go through an entire emotional arc and back again. They just need to be part of the world they’re in.

Nino doesn’t just pop into existence when Adrien or Alya need someone to interact with. Kagami isn’t just a non-horrible or non-evil love rival for Adrien or a stepping stool for him to “practice“ at being in a relationship before it’s time for him to try the “real thing” with his endgame pairing. Luka isn’t just a decent guy who is the only actual form of support for the female lead and yet only lacking that precious “male lead” title or all around just not “Adrien enough” to fill the role.

Adrien isn’t just a “sad boy” meant to be a main love interest, Villain’s Morality Pet, and the one everyone idolizes and chases after just cuz he’s the male lead and that’s how you show he’s desirable I guess. Marinette isn’t the atlas keeping the story alive because no one else is apparently capable of learning lessons and changing, or even just the bare basics of functioning as individuals. Chloe isn’t just there to be horrible for no reason and get away with it so she can continue to be horrible until the writers suddenly need her to be sympathetic.

And the rest of the classmates aren’t just some Greek chorus there to fill the background.

We see them interact. We see them making jokes or jabs. We see them even…*gasp* having different opinions!

And on something as major and life-controlling as feelings about the “Hero of the City” no less! Why, that’s the sort of thing that would break up friendships and determine who you can sit next to at the cafeteria! The horror! The scandal!

And…oh hey. This puts the characters in different groups. It links them with characters other their Canonically designated pairings and groups. This lets them disagree on things and not need to vilify any of them. This creates implications that add depth to the story and to the people in it.

The characters can disagree without being enemies. They can be wrong without having to be evil. They can make mistakes without having to be stupid. And they can change and grow—both for better and worse.

And we see both and in different ways. SO many different ways.

Adrien goes from excited and impulsive to buckling under the forced responsibility and weight of a partner who hinders more than she helps.

Lila goes from selfishly bad and self-serving to selfish but friendly with better direction of her talents in a less self-serving way.

And Chloe just goes from selfish and bad to selfish and worse..

I mean, it says something that the combination of Lila’s growth and Chloe’s fall from grace resulted in Hawk Moth being unable to use Lila as a tool for his Heroes Day plot like he originally intended.

The key is that whether they necessarily grow or become better people, these characters are still IMPACTED by the events around them and AFFECTED as a natural result of the world they live in. 

You can’t help but feel for them in some way as a result. It’s part of why I love them.

The other part of why I love them is a bit more epic though…

Crowning Moments of Awesome

If there’s one thing I love, it’s seeing characters be awesome. I love it when characters get to be awesome. I would love to see more of it. Especially when the ones involved are characters you wouldn’t normally expect or get to see have a chance to shine.

And it’s when you see these characters be awesome that you really get the sense that yes, this character would work as a hero.

Seeing Max help against Robustus. Seeing Kim help against Odine. Alix stepping in during Pharaoh, calling out her brother’s fan fiction, and helping the heroes escape the security system at the Lourve. Alya stepping in during Copycat to clue Chat in to what’s going on and later keeping Anansi distracted to keep her away from Chat while he’s trapped. Rose kicking Nightmare!Chat in the face to defend Marinette even when she’s dealing with her own nightmares in Sandboy. Luka leading groups twice to stepping in and helping the heroes deal with akumas. Nathaniel standing up for Marinette and Sabrina when they’re accused in Rogercop and then helping the heroes in Reverser. Seeing the entire class step up to try and protect Marinette in Befana. Seeing all the friends working together to compete in the Friendship Contest in order to protect Adrien from a less serious but still potentially terrifying outcome.

These little moments of support make such a big different and really make it make sense that the heroes would trust these people with magical jewelry to help them in battle.

And the little moments of characters being petty or strong or smart or turning the tables or just showing off what they’re capable of. Even without superpowers.

Adrien getting petty revenge for Nino and finding a tactic to counter Gabriel in the future.

The Police Force in Rogercop just saying “Nope” to obeying an obvious akuma. 

Zoe manipulating akumas twice to help the heroes. Her two Reasons You Suck Speeches to her mom and Bustier.

Every instance of payback that Tikki gets against Chloe.

Everyone in the Finale. Just…EVERYONE in the Finale. The characters who manage to avoid akumatization by either spotting the flaws in the illusion or refusing to give in to fear and even protecting others. Nora smacking any akuma that enters the home. Claudie pulling off Power Mom and ordering Max to stop attacking the city then helping to calm him down. Prince Ali and Juleka freeing Rose by kissing her! Chris, Ella, Etta, and Manon saving Mylene! Mylene saving Ivan with a kiss in a direct callback to how they first got together in Stoneheart! (Yes, I am still stuck on that!) Ondine saving Kim! Lila and Sabrina saving Alix! Luka facing Riposte alone and unarmed and then Kitty Section saving Kagami! ALL of the Heroes making a final comeback to help take down Hawk Moth for good! Just—AAAAAH!

How could Miraculous have peaked with this in Season 2 when this is Grand Finale material? Because there are few things more awesome than getting to see ALL the characters the heroes met and befriended and helped throughout the course of the story stepping up at the final battle to help take the Big Bad down!

Like…can we just take a moment to appreciate how everyone gets a chance to stand out in some way? Not all of them necessarily good, exactly (looking at you Andre). But still stand out and be memorable. Even characters who didn’t originally get much focus. Especially characters who were originally functioning as cardboard cutouts to fill a scene.

Anyone remember Aurore? How for the FIRST akuma in the pilot of the series and one who is quite frankly the most interesting and noteworthy, we don’t really get to see her again except in the background.

In Scarlet Lady, we got to actually look in to the contest and how she lost as well as the aftermath. She wasn’t some arrogant showoff who deserved to lose to the “sweet down to earth rival”, she was a girl who legitimately tried her best and had valid reason to be upset. Seeing her get revenge on Alec for cheating and humiliating her on live TV was well worth it.

Or how about the Photographer? Just there to take photos of Adrien in the park for a photo shoot or be the school photographer, but otherwise has no personality and is only remembered for his weird “spaghetti” line.

In Scarlet Lady, his role is two-fold. He acts as a sort of supporter for Adrien in his crush. Taking really good pictures of him being happy with the girl he likes. Taking more class photos at the behest of this girl for the sake of a friend who missed out on the class picture. And then there’s his OTHER role as a sort of antagonist to Chloe. He becomes one of the only ones in the early seasons willing and capable of dismissing her tantrums.

They’re both given more character. They get moments to stand out and BE awesome. So is everyone.

EVERYONE. From the classmates and big named characters we see regularly to the side characters who only appear once or twice. They all get some good scenes and focus that give them their own identities. All of them are memorable. None of them can really be ignored or forgotten. And part of what made making this list so difficult was that I found myself getting attached to pretty much everyone as I came across each of them that I couldn’t quite make up my mind.

Everyone in this fic has done something to make me happy and warrant my approval. Even the characters I normally wouldn’t like at all had their moments to shine and elicit an “okay, that was cool” from me.

Thus I grant this spot to everyone. To all the characters I don’t get the chance to mention. To all the ones I like albeit somewhat less than others. To all the ones I know are horrible but can’t help but like regardless. To all the ones I fought with myself for THREE MONTHS over which one would get this spot.

I love all of them.

[ghostlyferrettarot]

🩰୨୧Pick a Picture:🤍｡🩰ꪆৎ ˚⋅.Which Barbie character do you embody?🤍｡🩰ꪆৎ ˚⋅.

❗️This is a collective reading, take what resonates and leave the rest❗️

✨️Paid Services ✨️ (Natal charts and tarot readings) Open!

🫧Join my Patreon for exclusive content!🫧

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊If you like my work you can support me through Ko-fi. Thank you!₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊

🩰🎀Masterlist🩰🎀 🩰🎀Masterlist 2🩰🎀

ᡣ𐭩 🤍｡🩰ꪆৎ ˚⋅.Pile 1: Odette (Barbie of Swan Lake)

Hi, pile 1! You are like Odette: someone who may not always feel ready for what life throws at you, but still faces everything with a light that cannot be extinguished. You are that person who, even when you feel insecure or lost, manages to see beauty in everything. You have a quiet magic, the kind that doesn't need to shout to shine, you are just naturally bright. A very strong intuition, a connection with the invisible, with dreams, with the subtle (you may have psychic abilities or gift, try to tap and learn about them, it will help you lots 🫶). Your energy speaks to me of someone very empathetic, someone who absorbs what happens around her, and who often carries more than her share because she has that huge heart that wants to help everyone. But be careful with that: don't forget to take care of yourself too. In the story, Odette wasn't looking to be a heroine, or a princess, or anything epic. She simply followed her heart, and that's why the universe chose her. And that's how you are too. You don't need to force anything to be valuable. Your strength lies precisely in that sensitivity that the world sometimes doesn't understand, but that is essential. Keep dreaming, even if they tell you it's impractical. Believe in yourself, even if you sometimes doubt it. Your story has only just begun, and it has a very beautiful purpose. You don't need to have all the answers right now; you just need to have faith in yourself. Write, paint, dance (I feel like artistic hobbies will make you shine so much), do whatever connects you with yourself. Your light is real. And even if you don't realize it sometimes, others see it.

ᡣ𐭩 🤍｡🩰ꪆৎ ˚⋅.Pile 2: Princess Anneliese (The Princess and the Pauper)

Hi, Pile 2! You don't do what the world expects of you. You may have grown up feeling you had a role to fulfill, an image to maintain… but deep down, you've always wanted more. More authenticity. Anneliese is intelligent, determined, and true to herself, even when it means breaking down structures. And you, although you may not realize it, have also been learning to use your voice in new, firmer ways, more aligned with who you truly are. You are a brilliant mind, but also a tender heart. And that is an incredibly powerful combination. Perhaps you are at a time when you need to set boundaries, make difficult decisions, or stand firm in the face of something that would have previously made you hesitate. This is a call to trust in your ability to lead your own life, even if you feel afraid, even if you don't have all the answers, because that leadership comes from within, from your integrity. And yes, it can be lonely at times. Because when you decide not to fit into what others expect, you find yourself facing many opinions, stares, and uncomfortable silences (been there pile 2, sending you love 🫂). But you are not making a mistake. You are evolving. You are choosing your truth. Surround yourself with people who value your mind, who challenge you with love, who are not intimidated by your brilliance. Give yourself the space to lead your projects, your decisions, your boundaries. You are not being "cold" or "too much." You're just being you. And that's more than enough.

ᡣ𐭩 🤍｡🩰ꪆৎ ˚⋅.Pile 3: Barbie (Barbie: A Fashion Fairytale)

Hi Pile 3! People misjudge you a lot, Pile 3. You may seem sweet, but you're not naive. Maybe you've gone through times where you doubted yourself, where you felt like you didn't quite fit in or that you were out of place… but every time the world tried to tell you who you should be, you chose to be yourself. And that's incredibly powerful. You're the kind of person who encourages others, who sees beauty where others only see chaos. I also feel like you may be very artistic or you should pursue something related to the arts; you have a unique vision on things that can make you really successful.

I also notice that you're entering a very special time in your life. It may be that you're discovering new parts of yourself, as if something inside has finally aligned. Maybe you're starting to believe more in your voice, in your ideas, in your own style. You also have a natural light in you, idk if I'm explaining myself well, but it doesn't need to be announced because it's simply noticeable when you walk into a room. You're one of those people with a genuine heart, who doesn't seek the spotlight, but who ends up at the center of attention because of how you care, how you inspire, and how you see the best in others. If you sometimes doubt yourself or feel like what you do "isn't enough"… please, look again at everything you've already transformed. Because even when you think you're just "doing your thing," you're spreading hope in those around you. And go and do some art, you will slay in it ;).

ᡣ𐭩 🤍｡🩰ꪆৎ ˚⋅.Thank you for reading and let me know if it resonated!ᡣ𐭩 🤍｡🩰ꪆৎ ˚⋅.

[pinkaditty]

JUST TAKE MONEY ALREADY UGHHH

THAT HAKU FIC???? OMG OBSESSED IT WAS SCRUMPDELICIOUS HSHSJSJSJSJ

AND you're cooking up a Subaru fic???!?!!? YOU'RE SPOILING US SO MUCH THANK YOUUUU

Visions (Yan!Perv!Subaru Kagami x Reader; Tokyo Debunker)

ok its finally here holy shit wht ther ufckkckckkc

also THANK YOUUUUU!!!!!!!!!!! IM SO GLAD U LIKE THE WORKS YIPPEE!!!!!!!!

a/n: i went 2 bed the night after writing starstruck coral and woke up thinking about how touching you is how yan!perv!subaru would keep tabs on you. is this deranged and out of pocket? maybe. but was this real as fuck? ab-so-fucking-lutely. anyways. admittedly not the biggest fan of yandere characters unless they’re the harmless-type, stalker-type, or worship-type yandere yk? they’re strangely possessive and slightly stalker-y ish? maybe the occasional sabotage of a love rival perhaps.  they don’t kill anybody, just get really jealous. which. kinda suits subaru. 

2 explain a little bit. i buy in2 the theory that subaru is NOT nearly as innocent as he portrays himself and purposely puts that image forward 2 fool others. i like 2 think he won’t let go of it, even when caught, bc its the best way 2 weasel out of things. i also think that, 2 an extent, it is actually genuinely a piece of his personality and how he genuinely acts, so the act is harder 2 see through bc it seems so,,, like him, if u will. 

summary: you want subaru. subaru has a reputation to uphold.

cw: voyeurism via psychometry??, masturbation, breaking and entering, creepy, weird, perv and yan behavior idk idk. also editing was rushed sorry!

WARNING: the ending 2 this is like. kinda crazy. at least 2 me idk! i wrote it like "wow this heat" but idk tumblr might not like it! u've been warned.

Subaru is the type to hide from his desires, despite how strongly they pester him. He belittles himself by convincing himself that such things are improper, corrupt, and shameful, and that indulging in them would taint his proper, innocent, humble manner. To him, he must keep up the perfect, trimmed, clean, graceful exterior in tandem with his placid, unassuming, and polite demeanor. It is the only way to conduct himself. So, he hides from that which would shake his precariously balanced mask, even goes as far as to express discomfort when exposed to things that are supposed to be outside his comfort zone, even if they are things he’s long been aware of or indulgent in. He refuses his naturally decadent tendencies and strives to upkeep his gentleness. 

In truth, he knows what he is. A hedonistic sybarite. A guilty heathen. A depraved sinner. These titles haunt him, constantly at the back of his mind, reminding him of the consequences of indulgence and the rewards of self-control. He holds these reminders close to his heart. He will not flinch. He will not falter. He will not break.

And then you happened to be one of the first people to know about the truth of his stigma. He supposes he can pin the onset of his downfall there. 

As pretty as you were, and as perverted as he was, he had already grilled it into his mind that desires of the flesh were not worth faltering for, not if he was to keep being perfect. You were easy to brush aside at first, his focus trained on maintaining his carefully crafted personality. All was well until he mistakenly touched your hand one day. 

You’d been over for tea and sweets at Hotarubi. The gentle sounds of rain against the window and light chatter of Zenji made for the perfect ambience. Haku was off on a mission, but Subaru and Zenji were there, enough to keep you company. Subaru is pleased to listen to Zenji’s lamenting poetry, and smile apologetically at you for his ramblings. He’s astonished at how well you seem to fall for his mask. There were times where even Haku had seen past it, not that the other man had much room to comment on it. He smiles to himself, seemingly unassuming, thinking you’re rather naive for a cursed girl. He makes the mistake of slipping off his glove and reaching for a sweet while looking at Zenji, not wanting to get any crumbs on his gloves. He freezes when he feels your hand brush against his, images flashing before his eyes, layering over his vision. 

To your credit, you flinch backwards, apologizing profusely. He notes his expression must appear dazed, because you add on: “You must’ve seen my busy morning, huh?” You chuckle to yourself, smiling apologetically. “Sorry again, Kagami.”

He shakes his head, the vision finally subsiding, blinking to restore his normal sight. “It appears to have been stressful. I see why you stopped by.” He crafts a welcoming smile, a small, trembling voice, and an overwhelmed undertone in his expression. Judging by your slight bow, it’s perfect, and fools you. 

He hides his darkening expression behind his teacup, pretending the smile dropping from his face so abruptly is simply so he can blow on his tea. Zenji returns to his rambling after checking on Subaru, ensuring he was well. Subaru mulls over what he had seen. He’d seen a busy morning indeed, full of the Frostheim King’s demands, the pestering of an uptight paralegal, and a fair bit of hounding by many other overzealous ghouls. But he had also seen how you relieved said stress. Fingers dipping underneath your skirt, in the privacy of your own dorm. He’d heard your soft mewls, seen your hand dripping with essence. He felt like, if it had lasted longer, he’d have felt your plush skin, tasted your dripping heat. 

He curses himself for such thoughts, resisting the crease in his brow that threatened to form. He hoped his next sip of tea was bitter and cold as a punishment for his minute indulgence, a reminder of the path he had set himself to. But when he tips the cup back and the liquid reaches his tongue, it’s warm. It’s sweet. It’s tempting. The sticky remnants of the honey used to sweeten it seem to cling to his throat. This was not punishment. The reminders he held close to his heart dimmed for only a moment. 

Then he was the picture of elegance again, smiling sweetly as Zenji laughed, pretending his friend was the source of his joy. 

The following weeks, despite the sweetness of his indulgence and the temptation rumbling within him, he convinced himself it was only a fluke. It was nothing more than a minor accident, and he couldn’t allow a minor accident to tarnish his clean slate. He had to keep these desires hidden. Yet and still, the vision plagues him, hidden in the deeper corners of his subconscious. He can still see it quite clearly, can almost feel the exact sensations you felt, can almost taste the cloying allure that seemed to saturate the entirety of the vision every time he replayed it in his head. It takes him a while to snap out of it when the vision plays in his mind’s eye. His eyes will become clouded, his breathing will become labored, and his fingers will twitch as he struggles to keep up his restraint. He remains successful, and such bouts of desire only happen in privacy, but he has a gnawing feeling that even remembering the vision is a form of indulgence in itself.

Despite his efforts to not think about it, the vision returns, and he feels shame and anger begin to make their presence known. This was not proper. It was unbecoming of him to allow something to swim in his head so persistently, especially something made to tempt him. He can hardly stand to have a normal conversation with you. Not that it’s your fault, rather that it’s his for succumbing to the wiles you may have inadvertently and unknowingly used on him. He decides that the only way to rid himself of the previous vision is to have another one of you. Maybe he’ll have a vision of a gross habit or something generally unattractive, and perhaps that would neutralize his fixation on your stress-relief techniques. It would be a gamble, but it was an option nonetheless.

He invites you for lunch again with him and Lyca, outside on one of the balconies on campus. It’s relatively warmer, fresh breeze combing through the trees and open windows. Days like this brought a large crowd, which meant it would be no problem to go unnoticed if needed. He sits quietly on a bench, Lyca leaning into his right side, drooling over his lunch but patiently waiting to dig in. Subaru finds himself awaiting your arrival a little too eagerly for his tastes. This would have to end soon. 

He finally spots you from afar, carrying a brown box that Sho usually packed his lunches in. He smiles as you approach and holds up his own brown box, his eyes crinkling with mirth. “It seems we had the same idea.” Effortlessly, he turns on the inferiority complex charm, hurriedly apologizing. “Ah, I apologize for not properly communicating with you. We could have waited in line together.”

You smile and shake your head, reassuring him with a quick  “It’s no problem, really,” and plopping down on Subaru’s other side. He notes the distance you leave between your bodies and lets his displeasure swim in his gaze before returning to a placid smile. 

Lyca barely spends a moment greeting you before digging into his meal, forgetting once again to use his utensils. Subaru sighs fondly before smiling at you and returning to his own meal. He is the epitome of grace, carefully bringing his chopsticks to his mouth, demurely flicking his tongue against his lips to lick up any excess sauce, and chewing so soundlessly you wouldn’t be able to tell. Not a single hair is out of place. Something about feeling your gaze on him fills him with pride and dread simultaneously. Could enjoying the attention of someone he actively attempts not to crave be considered an indulgence? 

Lyca suddenly begins hacking next to Subaru, alarming him. Immediately, Subaru assumed it was because he'd practically inhaled his food. He rubs a gentle hand on Lyca’s back until the coughing subsides as you watch with concern. Lyca looks up with a frown, grumbling in frustration about his coughing fit. 

When Lyca looks up, sauce and bits of rice are stuck to his cheeks. Subaru has to stifle a laugh, pretending to clear his throat instead, smiling fondly at Lyca. He reaches for his handkerchief, about to help Lyca clean up. When he doesn’t find it in his internal pockets, his confusion grows, searching his other pockets for it. It seems he didn’t have it. He looks back up to Lyca, wondering how he was going to clean him up without any napkins. Lyca looks back at him quizzically. “What? Is there something on my face?”

Subaru sighs and shakes his head. “Hold still, Lyca.” He begins to pull one of his gloves off, not wanting to get sticky residue all over them. It’s when he just manages to slide the glove halfway off that you reach forward, pushing his hand down. 

“Here, let me.” Subaru glances towards you as you reach towards Lyca, keeping your other hand on Subaru’s wrist. Your thumb brushes against his palm, and something about the action strikes Subaru as deliberate before he is thrust into another vision again. 

Another busy morning—nothing out of the ordinary. A red-headed ranger and his pet held most of your attention today, a certain slacker lagging far behind. Moving back and forth between classes and dorms, getting cases signed, all seemed relatively normal…

At least until he sees you, lying on your bed, laptop propped open, watching a rerun of one of his old shows. He can’t tell if he blushes or not, but he feels the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. 

He feels himself freeze up as you smile wider, watching him twirl across the stage. The vision begins to fade, but his confusion remains at a peak. Had you heard of him before? Were you a fan? If so, why hadn’t you shown any indication of knowing him prior? 

If you were a fan, this was mortifying. If you weren’t a fan but were simply doing research, that would be different. He couldn’t quite label it, but it felt… strange? He thinks back to when you first met him and remembers the lack of surprise on your face seeing him there. You couldn’t possibly be a fan. Which left him to wonder why you were watching reruns of his old shows in your free time. And, why had the way you’d brushed your thumb against his palm felt deliberate?

When he comes to, he finds both you and Lyca staring at him with concern. He idly notes he’s out of breath and his forehead feels damp.

“Suba. Are you okay?” Lyca peers at him curiously, curling his fingers into Subaru’s jacket sleeve.

Subaru finds it hard to so much as look in your direction, so he turns to Lyca, donning a simple, yet overwhelmed smile. “I’m fine. Just another vision, that’s all.” He manages to force the words out between pants, slowly catching his breath and blinking to stop the world from spinning. He had too much to think about to focus on appearing prim and proper any longer. What was that vision? 

When you pipe up, despite himself, Subaru turns towards you a little too fast. “Ah, I’m sorry, Kagami! I hadn’t realized I’d touched you.” Your face and voice appear apologetic, your eyes shining with pity. To anyone else, this would appear genuine. To Subaru, however, it was anything but. Something about the twinkle in your eyes screamed revelry rather than regret. 

He matches your expression, friendly and forgiving externally, with tension and excitement in his eyes. “It's no problem. Please, don't trouble yourself worrying for me.”

Lunch remains uneventful from then on, but even the prickling of your gaze isn't enough to draw him away from the rumbling in his mind.

He wakes up, staring upwards at his dorm room ceiling. It had been a few days since the incident, but he'd hardly been able to rest at all. 

His plan had backfired. It only served to worsen his mood. His initial urge encouraged him to blame it on you—his lack of rest, his inability to focus, his slipping facade. It was your fault, somehow. He had to keep you in line, somehow. You were threatening the carefully constructed status quo he had given himself and convinced everyone else of. 

He suddenly falters, common sense catching up with his wayward thoughts. It wouldn't very well be proper to do anything remotely threatening, especially to the honor student. He frowns up at his ceiling, worrying his lower lip between his teeth. A sickening feeling bubbles up in his stomach again as the visions revive themselves in his vulnerability, swarming his thoughts. This time, instead of chasing them away, he lets them settle. Maybe he'd find answers within the visions. It should be okay—so long as he didn't indulge. The images play in his mind—you, touching yourself, and you, watching videos of his old shows—and part of him feels the strange urge to draw a flimsy connection between the two. Despite himself, his mind wanders. Without realizing it, his hand begins to slowly travel downwards. 

Had you ever touched yourself to thoughts of him? Had you felt the urge to do so when you watched him dance across that stage? Or, was it only a coincidence? But if it was, what was your goal? If his assumptions about you doing this intentionally were even correct, that is. So many questions swam around his head. His breathing picks up and his face and neck begin to feel warm. The images and self-indulgent assumptions of his didn't help. His imagination ran wild with the things you would have done to yourself while watching him, dreaming of him, wanting him. He finds himself squeezing his thighs together and screwing his eyes shut tight. 

Any sort of relief in any form would do him good now, he thinks. He feels himself begin to tremble, his skewed brain focusing more and more on the idea of you touching yourself to thoughts of him. He imagines how it would look. Maybe you’d have your laptop propped open before you, marveling at his flexibility and physical prowess. Maybe you would be mesmerized by the way decorated fabrics would swish around his form. Maybe all these things were attractive to you, and you’d let your own imagination run wild—pinning him down, exploring the angled planes of his body, testing his flexibility as you saw fit—he’d be eager to prove himself to you. He imagines how his name would sound—mewled, moaned, or screamed—all in your voice, from your lips. He licks his lips to prevent his own from taking the shape of your name, silencing himself with an audible groan. Hearing the hunger and desperation in a single groan stops him in his tracks. He blinks awake from his hazy state, shivering in horror as he realizes he’d been palming himself, his hand moments from wrapping around his cock through his pants. He yanks his hand away from himself, turning over in bed and pulling his comforter over his head. He grinds his teeth together, his hands running through his hair and gripping his bangs out of frustration. He’d just been self-indulgent, nearly going as far as touching himself to thoughts of you. His mind swims with reminders of the consequences of self-indulgence, the path it would lead him down if he continued to crave. He bites his tongue, trying to relieve himself of the focus his brain was lending to his rock hard length. He attempts to control his breathing, inhaling and exhaling shakily at a pace he had practiced for years before. It doesn’t work, not in the way he would like it to. He’s barely managed to get a few breaths in before his alarm sounds next to his bed, reminding him of the time. His eyes fly open and he cannot resist the rage that courses through him. He rises to a seated position, exhaustion contributing to his frustration and anger. He reaches for his alarm, grasping it firmly in his hand. He is about to hurl it across the room, his rapidly increasing rage at himself, at you, at his inability to indulge nearly consuming him. 

But, wait. He pauses, blinking blearily as realization washes over him. This was no way to act. Shame overtakes him as he glances back at the alarm he holds in his hand. His grip falters and the alarm slips in his grasp. Slowly, he lowers his arm, and gently places the alarm back on his desk, silencing it with a dainty tap. He sits upright, folding his hands in his lap. Acting with anger was unacceptable. If the glass of his alarm were to shatter on the ground, someone would have surely come running, and witnessed the fury that twisted his expression, his arm positioned after a throw, and his still obvious hardened length. No, he couldn’t have that happen. There were better ways to carry himself. The reminder rings true in his head. Anger will not go without consequence. Indulgence will not go without consequence. Deviation from his carefully crafted mask will not go without consequence. What was acceptable, at best, was a slightly creased brow and an endearingly exhausted pout, seemingly unintentional. After a deep breath, he morphs his expression to just that, even pairing it with a quiet sigh. Perfect. Now, to keep this up for the rest of the day. 

He was long due for a more thorough reminder of where rage and indulgence had gotten him before. The growing frustration at his near indulgence stokes an urge to bite his lip, but he resists, remaining the picture of elegant, endearing, even adorable exhaustion. He could not allow his anger to show. 

He would not flinch. He would not falter. He would not break. Not even for you. 

When he walks out of his dorm room to greet the day, he ensures he is nothing less than the picture of perfection, besides a tired expression and a pout to go with it. Today would be another day to take in stride. Surely he could handle your meddling. He couldn’t allow you to be a threat anymore. 

So, of course, when he walks into Hotarubi’s tea room, he does not allow himself to be shocked at your presence. Surprise flits across his face for just a moment before he quickly replaces it with a welcoming smile, ensuring his exhaustion still shines through. Haku, seated on the other side of the table next to Zenji with his legs spread out, waves. He clicks his tongue and frowns when he takes in Subaru’s appearance.

“Sheesh, looks like a rough night. You okay?” Haku tilts his head towards Subaru, and Zenji does the same. You twist around to look at him, and he doesn’t miss the emotion that looked suspiciously like satisfaction flickering across your gaze. 

“Good morning!” You also greet him with a wave, before your eyebrows dip in concern. “He’s right. Did you sleep at all?”

Subaru puts his hands up in false surrender, his welcoming smile reducing itself to a timid, nervous one. “I’m fine, I promise. I simply had some trouble staying asleep.” Technically, that wasn’t entirely a lie. When Haku nods in understanding after studying him for a moment longer and you look back towards your tea, Subaru sighs with relief internally. 

Zenji is playing his biwa today, reciting some of his favorite childhood stories, with occasional commentary from Haku. Subaru finds himself relaxing into the comfortable atmosphere despite having most unfortunately been seated next to you. He supposes, so long as the distance between the two of you remained, there would be no issues. He would not allow himself to yearn for a close to the gap. 

This time, he’s clever. He finds no excuse to take off his gloves, instead opting to use a napkin to pick up any sweets.  He ensured before leaving his room that his collar was high and his sleeves were low. The only skin showing on his body was that of his upper neck and face, and any such contact to those areas would not go unnoticed, especially if deliberate. He allows himself a minor burst of pride, thankful for his own diligence. He was on the way to going down the proper path once again. 

He’s chewing on his final pastry before he’s off to pick up some tea from Benji and check on Lyca. Thankfully, he didn’t need to be seen by many people today, so he could use this opportunity to train himself to regain control over his expressions and emotions. You had a way with breaking down his walls, but that wouldn’t last much longer. At least, he thought so. He hears you giggle as Zenji is mid-story and feels you tap his shoulder. He turns to you, and with a wide grin on your face, you point to your cheek, indicating to him that he’s got something stuck on his. He starts, surprised that his poise had slipped enough for an imperfection, but simultaneously pleased that it was at least charming. Timidly, he reaches for his cheek with his gloves on, biding by his reminders and choosing to deal with the unsavory consequence of crumbs on his gloves in place of another slip-up regarding you. He brushes his fingers along his cheek, but he must have missed it, because you only giggle and indicate it’s still there, rubbing your finger back and forth along your own cheek. Subaru copies your movements, pulling back when he’s sure he’s gotten it off of his cheek. He frowns when he finds nothing on his gloves. He hears you giggle again and sighs internally, deciding to try one last time before giving up. However, he’s too late. He feels your fingers brush against his cheek, brushing away something that felt sticky rather than crumbly. He’d be grateful for the help if it weren’t for the fact that he was thrust into another vision the minute your fingertips touched his skin. 

When he’s thrust back into reality, he’s sweating, eyes wide and gaze unfocused. He glances at you, but that turns out to be a mistake. The frightened mask you’re wearing would’ve been impenetrable if not for the slight upwards quirk of your lips. He clenches his jaw and curses you under his breath, which is drowned out by your distressed cry. 

“Kagami!” You steady him with your arms, holding him up by his shoulders. Haku is already on his other side, watching Subaru’s face carefully. 

Subaru glances at Haku, whose frown deepens significantly. “Alright,” he stands, offering a hand to Subaru. “Let’s get you back to your room.”

Subaru doesn’t even protest, nor does he look back to glance at you. He simply wordlessly takes Haku’s hand and rises to his feet. Haku allows him to lean into his side as they make the trek back to his room, Haku shouting over his shoulder that he’d be back. 

Haku keeps Subaru steady as they walk back. Subaru’s mind swims with the vision he just saw.

Haku clears his throat. “If it’s not too much to ask, what’d you see?” Subaru can’t tell if Haku is asking this out of curiosity, concern, or both, but he indulges him anyway.

“A challenge.” His voice comes out somewhat strained. Technically, this isn’t a lie. But it’s not the whole truth, either. 

“Oh.” Haku frowns and raises a brow. “Is she in trouble?”

“No,” Subaru shakes his head, donning a reassuring smile and offering it to Haku. This might be a lie. “It seems it was all resolved. Just a little intense, that’s all.”

When Haku smiles in return, Subaru can tell he’s not wholly convinced, but he doesn’t ask any more questions, so Subaru doesn’t offer any more answers. 

He had seen a challenge, indeed. It was a challenge from you to him. What else could it have been? The images swim before his mind’s eye over and over and over again. Sweaty skin, panting breaths, raucous moans, his name on your tongue, and a purple dildo to tie it all together. He swallows harshly, feeling his body tense as the vision continues to play in his head. He can feel his half-hard cock prodding at his thigh, the stimulating vision enough to thrust him right back into his earlier predicament. 

Indulgence would ruin his plans. Anger would ruin his plans, Accepting this challenge would ruin his plans. And yet, he’s practically drooling at the visual of participating in the invitation you’d left for him. 

‘Desires of the flesh are not worth falling for,’ he reminds himself, thinking the same phrases repeatedly. He idly thinks of his continued heaving breaths and the warmth in his face from the vision. ‘There are consequences to indulgence. There are rewards to self-control.’

But were there any rewards to self-control as alluring, as satisfying, as deliciously saccharine sweet than what awaited him if he simply chose to let it all go, just this once? 

He mustn’t flinch. He mustn’t falter. He musn’t break. But, surely, so long as he didn’t allow himself to flinch, falter, and break permanently, it should be fine, right? Just this once, right?

His teeth dig into his bottom lip, keeping his pace steady as his mind churns. Perhaps indulging himself is what would remind him of why he chose the righteous path in the first place.

A smile begins to grow on his face. He had a plan.

He makes the final adjustments to the chair across from him and everything it held, ensuring everything was in place. He carefully shifts the teacups so that they are positioned perfectly in line with each saucer. He adjusts his tie, smoothes out the tablecloth, and takes his own seat. Everything was perfect. Now, to wait. 

He looks out the window beside him, basking in the dimming light of the roseate sunset, lavender, orange, and yellow blending to create a beautiful view. As prepared as he was for this, he also felt nerves and excitement working their way into his mood. He draws in a breath, reminding himself of the purpose of this endeavor, and releases it, strengthening his resolve. The peace he felt in this decision felt strangely fitting. After fighting it for so long, here he was, giving in to the very things he desired, performing the very show that could end in his fall from grace. But he clenches his fist, reminding himself that he will not fall forever. This was just a one-time thing, to set him back on the right path again. He hoped you would forgive his ambitions. 

Finally, he hears a lock click and the doorknob to the room turns. He sits up straighter, holding a cup of piping hot tea in his hand, looking the picture of warmth. 

He watches eagerly as you walk inside, your gaze rising to meet his. He only smiles wider when you freeze in shock, staring at him. He notes that confusion rises on your features rather than fear, as you twist the doorknob, wracking your brain to remember whether or not you’d locked the doors to the chapel before you left. Subaru waits patiently, swirling the tea in his hand. When you finally look back up at him, he sees suspicion swimming in your gaze. “How did you-”

“Ah, please don’t trouble yourself with the details.” Subaru cuts you off in the most polite voice he can muster. He projects his voice effortlessly, meeting your ears in a softened tone even from across the room. His tone is gentle, almost timid-like, but firm, leaving little room for questions. He places his teacup down in its saucer and rises to his feet, making his way over to you. His expression is open and his smile is kind and warm. And for once, it feels quite genuine to him. “I was wondering where you were.” He holds his gloved hands out for your bags, silently offering to put them away for you. After staring at his hands for a while, you relent, and he happily carries them to your desk in the far corner. He can feel your questioning gaze on him the entire way. It fills him with glee. 

He makes his way back to the table he’d set, standing behind the chair opposite to the one he was sitting on. He pulls it out from the table and gestures to it, warm smile on his face. “Please, sit down.”

If not for what was on the seat, this would seem the perfect polite invitation for tea. Subaru’s eyes were bright, his smile was soft, and his demeanor was polite and respectful. He watches you as you eye the seat warily, a crooked, nervous smile forming on your face. Your eyes flit back to him. He tilts his head upwards questioningly.

“Is it a show you want?” You gesture crudely towards the seat. Subaru only smiles, the look in his eyes darkening. It wasn’t a warning, rather a confession. The smile on your face read as nervous, but he could tell from the way your pupils were blown wide and your fingers were tapping the side of your thigh that you were more excited than you let on. 

When you made eye contact with him again, he looks at you expectantly, the expression on his face so open and gentle you would think he was asking for something innocent. He is satisfied when you finally nod, your teeth digging into your lips to hide the smile that threatened to grow. He watches your careful, slow steps towards the chair, your mouth open due to your excited, labored breathing. He, himself, has to bite his cheek out of excitement, not wanting to rush you. When you finally stand in front of the chair, your back to him, you simply reach behind yourself, hike up your skirt, pull your panties to the side, and slide yourself down the length of the purple dildo you’d used not too long ago. Once you’re as comfortably seated as you can be, Subaru tries not to smile wider and pushes the chair in, before walking back to his own seat, sitting across from you. 

You’re handling it better than he thought you would, and he commends you for that. He picks up his tea from the saucer, smiling at you. “Help yourself.” He kindly gestures towards your own teacup, steaming aromatic tea sweetened exactly how you like it right in front of you. Your hands have a slight tremble when you reach for your tea, but it doesn’t last long, Subaru notes. He makes eye contact with you, and you return his smile. Your face is flushed and your smile is trembling, and he’s sure if he bothered to look down, your legs would be, too. 

He takes a sip of his tea, deciding to stall for a little while longer, reveling in his success. You, however, voice other plans, speaking up to catch his attention. 

“Care to tell me what all this is for, Subaru?” The tremble in your voice would be unnoticeable to someone not as practiced as Subaru. He wonders just how many times you have used that dildo to not react so obviously. He bites his lip to stifle a smile from growing much wider.

“Ah…” His voice comes out surprisingly timid, and if not for the circumstances, even he would think this was a normal conversation. But the excitement that roils through him is too real to be imagined, and the boner he crossed his legs to hide was too genuine a reaction. He sips at his tea again before putting it down with a soft clink. He nervously wrings his fingers, his smile wavering. “I suppose this could be considered a confession, of sorts.”

“A confession?” The surprise is clear on your face, and you almost look relieved. “I thought I was due for a punishment or something.” You confess nervously, but Subaru hardly registers the tone in which you said it. 

“P-Punishment?” He looks taken aback and says the words almost incredulously, blinking at you with surprise. He exhales, frowning. “No, no, you’ve misunderstood me…” His tone falters back into his usual timid voice, and he shakes his head. His expression is apologetic and genuine. He reaches for his tea, probably as a way to keep his hands busy. “My real intention here…” He trails off, pursing his lips as a blush appears on his face. He felt nervous to admit this, but he reminded himself that this was for good reason. Excitement and heat pooled in his abdomen again, rising to his chest and neck as well. He could feel his heart pound against his ribcage, his breathing becoming heavy with anticipation. He looks towards you, summoning a small smile. “...Was to tell you that I’ll… stop resisting.”

He takes his final sip of tea and places his teacup down. He stands, moving to stand in front of your chair, kneeling down in front of you. He had been right earlier, he notes, observing how your legs were trembling and suppressing a small smile. Wordlessly, he loosens his tie just a little and undoes the first few buttons of his uniform shirt. He reaches upwards and silently holds out his hand for yours, looking up at you pleadingly. You gently place your palm in his, tremor still in your movements. 

“If you’ll have me…” He takes your hand and loops your fingers around the collar of his tie, pulling your wrist away from him so his neck would be forced to follow the pull. He bites his lip as he looks up at you, his visage the epitome of bliss, his lips curved upwards in an exhilarated smile, his eyes wide and pleading. 

“I’d like to know how you’d want me, Miss.”

ok CHALLENGE 4 ALL MY READERS PLEASE tell me what u would do 2 subaru in this situation. please. im so curious. if ur suggestions r good i might even be inspired 2 write a part 2 bc im already thinking abt it................

a/n: well. i hope that ending wasn't too scary! like i wrote it like "WOW" but. idk. im scared what if y'all hate it aaahhhhhhh!!! anyways. enjoy, please. i put so much work in2 this, truly, bc i really really wanted this 2 be good.

obligatory blurb that i love likes, BUT i mostly love comments, reblogs, and asks detailing how much you loved my work!!!!!! please please please let me know how much you loved the story! i cater 2 u and i want u all 2 enjoy it. knowing u do keeps me going <3

songs i listened 2 while writing this:

gold by britt nicole (accepting urself despite ur flaws... very ironic)

kiss it better by rihanna (physical lust fueling the reconciliation of a toxic relationship)

ecstasy by suicidal-idol (self-explanatory)

sweater weather by the neighbourhood (diminishing oneself, separating the dream from the person, yearning 4 something u cannot have)

taglist: @cupcakesmoothie @aayakashii @sunskosh @despairingy-obsessed @glamorousspoon @mmy-meow @dailyvahine @diluxama

want 2 (join/be removed from) the tkdb taglist? let me know!

[amiaenn]

Habits

Harumasa × reader

Note:I was so deeply imbued with this character that I was inspired to pour out my thoughts here a little bit. (+I myself have problems with my lungs and heart, so I understand this bro as much as possible).I apologize in advance for my mistakes, this is my first experience in writing (⁠•⁠ ⁠▽⁠ ⁠•⁠;⁠)

genre/warnings: nope.It's just fluff, don't worry.

wc: ~800 words

Ever since you started dating Harumasa, it has seemed to you that your apartment is slowly turning into a medical office and new habits have appeared in your life. An abundance of various pills, ointments, saline solutions and many other things, the names of which you have not even heard of until recently, filled your shelves. Any pharmacy would envy such supplies of medicines.

And of course, your everyday life has changed too. No, of course you understood that it would change with the appearance of another person in your apartment, but you could not have imagined that Harumasa would bring new activities into your routine that you could not even think about until now.

First, maintaining order in the house. It cannot be said that you were completely dirty in this regard before, but sometimes you can put off sorting out some dusty shelf for later, right? Now forget about it. Asaba is the kind of person who starts a coughing fit from a single speck of dust, and you were sincerely sorry to see and hear him cough, and knowing about his lung problems, you immediately thought that now wet cleaning will be daily, no matter what it costs you, even despite Harumasa's eternal words that he is not a weak guy who can get sick from such household trifles (although his body's reaction says otherwise).

Secondly, now you have increased knowledge about various diseases (especially those related to the heart and lungs). How and what affects this, what is a state of remission and how to maintain it. Well, of course, in connection with this, you began to go with Harumasa to pharmacies to buy the necessary medications. And going out on such shopping, you remembered more and more the names of these pills. You can even confidently say that you remembered this entire list as long as the Great Wall of China.

Third, this is cooking. Yeah, for people who get sick easily, a special diet is needed. A balance of proteins, fats and carbohydrates. It is unlikely that a weak body will tolerate an abundance of chemicals in food, so you need to be more careful with this issue of cooking and selecting ingredients, so you will have to exclude all this harmful food, or at least limit its consumption to a minimum. To support Harumasa in this difficult matter, you decided to give up all the harmful food that you had previously consumed and switch to a healthy diet. One day, you impulsively got rid of all the snacks and bought vegetables and fruits, creating real chaos in the kitchen. Soup is boiling in one corner, vegetables are baking in another, while fruits are being cut on the table and, seeing this picture, Asaba only chuckled and said "Need help?" To which you nodded aggressively, and the guy already went to put on his apron.

Well, and the most interesting thing. A bitter taste began to be felt on your lips more often. You couldn't say that you were a doomed lover of bitter, on the contrary, you tried to avoid bitterness. Once you tried espresso and the fact that it was not a very pleasant experience is to say nothing. But with the appearance of Harumasa, you began to feel the taste of bitterness on your lips. And, you guessed it, all because of his kisses. It's no secret that Harumasa takes pills more often than food and this leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. But he stopped noticing it a long time ago, because years of taking medications give an addiction to this taste and it becomes unnoticeable. But you feel it fully, but to your surprise it felt.. nice? Yes, that's right. Strangely nice, for a lover of sweets like you. When you felt this taste for the first time, your eyes widened and the question "How can he calmly consume such bitter medications?" was spinning in your head. He noticed your surprise and involuntarily wondered what he did that caused such a reaction. Harumasa decided not to hesitate with the question and casually asked, "Something wrong, baby?"

You just awkwardly shrug your shoulders at this question, as if you don't understand what he's talking about, "No...no, everything's fine, don't get hung up on it."

After this incident, you began to get used to it, and after some time, the taste of bitterness began to be associated with something good and familiar. Something that brings a smile. Even more, now you wanted to feel it more often and you began to kiss Asaba at every opportunity that was given to you. He came from a successfully completed mission? What a good boy, he deserved a kiss. Are you making breakfast together? How cute, you can kiss him. Is he just relaxing? A great reason for a kiss! To be honest, it bordered on addiction, but for now it was on a fine line, because you skillfully control yourself and if you are told to tone down your ardor, you will do it without question.

And yes, why did you start liking espresso? It's strange...

[lizthewriter]

i think there's been a glitch / theodore nott

PAIRING  Theodore Nott x studious!shy!Reader

SUMMARY  Theodore Nott was well known for the sort of happenstances that occurred in his dorm. However, the new transfer student seems to catch his eye in particular - that transfer student is you. His friends think that, at first, he has his eyes set on you for more sinful reasons, but he soon proves that his intentions are more romantic than anyone ever thought.

TAGS  Theodore Nott x Reader, angst, if you squint, idiots in love, cursing, kissing, study buddies, friends to wtf is this to friends with benefits but also wtf is this to lovers, theo is a simp, reader is not slytherin, can be any other house, reader has social anxiety, references to sex, underage drinking, headmaster's list = dean's list, gender neutral reader

"We were supposed be just friends, / you don't live in my part of town, but maybe I'll see you out some weekend, / depending on what type of mood and situationship I'm in, / and what's in my system," - Glitch by Taylor Swift

WORD COUNT  3.2K

WRITTEN  27.08.2023

A/N This came as a burst of inspiration during calc class when I realized I was really the only person answering my professor's questions in my classes, lmaoo 😭😭 so this is purely self-induglent. i hope you guys enjoy <333

When you had transferred to Hogwarts, you hadn't made very many friends. All right, you hadn't made any friends. Because you had transferred to Hogwarts so late in your academic career, everyone had already formed their own friend groups. No one had any real interest in you - that was, they were interested in why you transferred, but not in assimilating you into their social circles. Your professors, however, had grown quite fond of you, most likely due to your dedication to your studies. And eventually, around midway through the fall semester, you were called into the Headmaster's office. It had kept you on your toes all day - had you done something wrong? Gotten in trouble? Your mind had come up with most elaborate and unlikely scenarios that might have cause you to get called into the Headmaster's office.

You were awarded the honor of being added to the Headmaster's list. Only two others in your year were granted the same honor - Hermione Granger and Theodore Nott. All three of you were maintaining straight O's. You and Hermione had never gotten the opportunity to grow close - it might have been the fact that she was much more close-mindrd than you, or the fact that she didn't have the time to spare to make new friends between her studies and all the "Chosen One" stuff going on. You wanted to at least make one friend, instead of an academic rival, which you made the mistake of creating at your previous school.

So, you approached Theo after the meeting, your hands clamy and shaking while you stuttered out your request to study together. Theo simply watched you with those dead eyes of his before nodding. It had unnerved you but you pushed yourself to confirm a date and time with him. And so began your little friendship.

You were never meant to be more than study partners. Weekly study sessions in the library grew into bi-weekly gatherings, which then grew into daily meetings. And then you were meeting each other after class, making inside jokes, hanging out just because. Slowly, but surely, you and Theo grew close. You weren't sure you had ever been this close with anyone before. It was like he just knew you, not only like the back of his hand, but like every square inch of his body.

And Theo? Theo had never saw you coming. He didn't know that he wanted to be friends with you until you were friends, and then he couldn't stop coming back. You were like a drug. He needed another hit each and every time he saw you. Soon enough, he was aching to spend every waking moment with you. It had started as nothing more than a mutually beneficial partnership, but it grew to be much more than that.

It took him a while to realize he loved you. Cared for you. He was well reputed for sleeping around and having a general devil-may-care attitude. He knew that he loved you when he began to grow tired of the constant flings and one-night stands. When he called off the on-and-off relationship he'd had with a particularly vivacious Slytherin girl. He hated the way girls threw themselves at him, vying for his attention like wildcats fighting over a piece of meat. You weren't like that. You were perfect.

He knew he wanted to ask you out. His friends scoffed at the idea, thinking he was joking. They were shocked when they realized he was serious. Mattheo had even knocked on his head, asking if Theo was really in there. It had to be perfect, so he went to the only people he knew who had ever been in serious relationships. Mostly everyone had told him the same thing - find out what you liked. Woo you. It was rather simple. "For someone who is so smart, you're rather stupid, you know," Blaise had told him. He secretly agreed.

First, he had bought a collection of muggle novels for you at a book store on a forgotten. It had beautifully decorated covers, guilded with golden etchings. When you had sat down to study one day, Theodore had dropped it on the table in front of you while he pulled out his books.

"What's this?" You had asked in confusion.

"It reminded me of you," he said simply, pulling out his spellbook and flipping through it to find where he had last left off.

You furrowed your brows as you pulled the box towards you, unclasping the front of it and pushing it open. You let out the small gasp at the gorgeous hardcovers resting inside, hands trailing along the sturdy spines. Five Muggle Classics, the interior of the box cover said. "Theo . . . " Your voice trailed off at the thoughtfullness of the gift - you were left utterly speechless. "I can't take this. I can't imagine how expensive how this was." You slid the case of books back to Theo. He stopped it, pushing it back towards you.

"Take it. I can't return it. Besides, I got it for you. I would hate to see these go to waste."

You bit your bottom lip before pulling the box back towards you, a smile spreading across your face as you pulled out one of your favorite muggle classics. You flipped through the pages, allowing that paticular new-book smell to wash over you like the waves on a shore. "Thank you," you mumbled softly.

-

You never came to parties. Mostly because you hated all the drinking and crowds and the mixture of stroking lights and booming music that made you dizzy. But you had started to develop feelings for a particular friend of yours. He was tall, devilishly handsome, and more intelligent that anyone you'd ever met. He smelled of evergreen trees, cigarettes, and lilac. You felt for him in a way that you had never felt for anyone else. You were always so laser-focused on you studies, but you realized that your attention had been straying towards a paticular someone as of recently.

You knew he hung around these sort of parties, finding pretty girls to have a fun night with. You wore the most insanely inappropriate dress you could find, hoping to catch his attention. You weren't exactly sure what your goal for that night was, but you were certain you wanted it to end with you and Theo, alone.

Of course, Theo was shocked to see you there. Even more shocked to see you out of the jeans and sweaters you usually wore, standing in a tight little number that had him practically frothing at the mouth. Not that you weren't always stunning, but you were stunning stunning. He wouldn't have approached you normally, but with the alcohol currently coursing through his system, he had a boost of courage and stupidity.

Five seconds later, he was standing right behind you, calling your name. You turned around to face him with a grin. "Hey, there you are."

"What are you doing here?" It sounded much more like a statement than a question - he was seemingly distracted by something else about you.

"I came to see you, silly. And to see what all the rage is about."

"And?"

"I've come to the conclusion that parties suck."

Theo laughed, something hearty that rumbled through his chest. "Want to go somewhere else?"

"Please," you responded with a role of your eyes. "I'm starting to get a headache." You had stupidly accepted a drink and chugged down the bitter alcohol earlier - that didn't bode well for your head when you were already bothered by loud music sober.

Theo's eyes searched the room for somehwere that might be a little quieter - his eyes landed on the staircase to his dorm. Well, where else was there to go? He lead you up the steps, the two of you laughing as he kept you from stumbling down the stairs, and guided you to his dorm. He sat you down on the bed, grabbing a glass on his bedside table, and filled it up with the spell Aguamenti.

"Thanks," you said sweetly, taking it from his hand and taking a long sip. You took a good look at the room, easily able to tell whose area of the roo. was whose. Mattheo's was messy - clothes strewn across the bed and floor. Draco's was neat and filled with a variety of potions book, his bedside table cluttered with potions of a variety of colors, lined up in orderly rows. Blaise had a poster of his favorite Quidditch team plastered on the wall, as well as a family photo filled with all his siblings. Theo's, however, was minimal and tidy aside from the piles of books. His bed was neatly made, the corners of the covers tucked under the mattress.

You finally met Theo's eyes and finally saw some sort of emotion - it took you a moment to identify it as hunger. You glanced down at the outfit you were wearing and flushed, your eyes staying firmly on the ground.

"You look very pretty."

You felt your heart stop in your chest. Had Theo called you . . . pretty? You were in shock - sure, you had come to the party with more than friendly intent, but you had never expected that he would actually notice you the way he had noticed other girls.

"Y-you - you look very handsome."

Theo watched you for a moment - he was standing only a foot away with arm wrapped around the four-poster, hanging off from it slightly. There was an odd sort of tension in the room - you both knew what you wanted and you both knew you wanted it now. Both of your inhibitions were lowered because of the alcohol, so it was that one split desicion that changed everything. Soon enough, his lips were planted into yours, one hand cupping your cheek and the other trailing along the side of your body. Everything had happened so fast - it went from the hand on your hips guiding you down onto the mattress to clothes strewn on the floor to sleeping heavily within each other's arms. It was hours before you woke again, and you were grateful that none of his friends had come up from the party yet. He helped you get dressed, a look of almost disbelief settled into his features as you left, sending him an awkward smile before you closed the door. What had he done?

-

The next day you had studied together like nothing happened. You cracked a joke. He laughed. You helped him with Transfiguration, he helped you with Ancient Runes. Another day passed. And another. And another. Theo was going beyond mad - what were you two now? Were you still friends? Were you dating? He felt like he wanted to yank all his hair out of his head.

That was, until about a week later. Late at night, the two of you were studying in the library. He was huddled next to you, embarrassingly distracted by your beauty while you were trying to help him with a homework problem he got stuck on. He finally snapped back to attention as you pointed to something on his parchment, leaning downwards to see exactly what you were pointing at. At the same time, you had turned your head to see what had him so distracted. The resultant situation: your noses bumped together and he could feel your heavy, hot breath on his lips.

Flashbacks to the night you shared soared through both of your minds. And it was you, this time, who had made the stupid desicion. You lunged for his lips with desperation, fingers snaking through his hair, a hand planted on his chest. He had tensed in surprise before returning the kiss with equal fervor. It wasn't long before you were quickly packing your things and Theo was dragging you to some abandoned room, your lips entangled as he pressed you up against the wall. The moonlight seeped in through the red glass-stained windows, dancing deliciously on your skin. Forever engraved in his memory was the picture of you, the only word on your lips being his name, grasping his shoulders with need.

-

Neither of you knew what kind of relationship you had descended into. It involved rather intimate gatherings from time to time, but for the most part, you were just friends. It was an almost seamless friendship between you two - except for the nagging thoughts at the back of both of your minds that kept you wondering if the other really felt the same way.

Theo buried his face into his hands, surrounded by a group of friends who had utterly no idea what to do. Their eyes watched him with trepidation and worry. It was oddly concerning how much he was stressing over this. Theo never seemed to stress about anything. But here he was, hands fisted in his hair, staring down at the ground in utter disillusionment.

"I've ruined everything. All cause I couldn't keep it in my fucking pants."

"That can't be it, mate," Mattheo tried reassuring him. "Look, you said they're different, yeah? All the other girls you've slept with found someone else after you. But they keep coming back for more. That has to mean something, right?"

"Yeah, you've just got to romance them," Blaise said. Theo groaned.

"Please never open your mouth again."

"I'm serious. Take her to Hogsmeade, that'll show them."

Theo leaned his face upwards, staring at Blaise. He was right - taking someone to Hogsmeade virtually meant asking them out on a date. You had to know the innuendo by now, being at Hogwarts as long as you have. "Blaise, you're brilliant." He clapped his friend on the back, rushing out of the dorm to find you.

-

You scanned the bookshelves for books with more information on Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration. The idea fascinated you - how come you could conjure any sort of non-edible object from nothing, but with food you couldn't? At the root of it, everything was made of subatomic particles, then atoms, then particles, and so on. So, theoretically, anything could be created from nothing, correct?

You were so enraptured by your own thoughts that you had no conception of your surroundings and bumped right into someone walking straight towards you. The books in your arms tumbled onto the floor and you flushed a bright red, bending down to pick them up.

"Gosh, I'm so sorry!" you exclaimed, hastily collecting the books from the ground. The boy, who you hadn't really looked at yet, bent down to help you collect them as well. "I wasn't looking where I was going, I'm really -"

As you stood up, you finally got to look at his face - and it turned out to be Theo. His face was just barely flushed, and the emotion in his eyes held a deep meaning that you couldn't quite decrypt. You didn't have a chance to ask him what he was doing, because he beat you to it.

"Go to Hogsmeade with me."

"I'm sorry?"

"Hogsmeade. You and I. Interested?" His tone was strained, and you realized what emotion finally lay beyond those dead eyes. Fear.

You knew what he was insinuating. Was he - asking you out on a date? Did that mean he really did like you? More than just as someone he could have a little fun with time and again, someone who was just a friend. You stared up at him for quite a while, not realising how silent you were as you sunk into the rabbit hole of your own thoughts.

"I - erm - all right, then." You were still quite in a bit of shock. "Will you -"

"Yeah, I'll wait for you outside your common room." The fear in his eyes seemed to dissipate, his shoulders sagging in relief.

"Right. Yeah, sounds good. Great."

-

You had bundled up for the cold weather, a thick scarf wrapped around your neck and a hat with your house emblem on your head. You tried to dress in something nice underneath the layers of warmth - it had taken you a long time to decide what exactly you wanted to wear, but you had eventually come to a conclusion.

When you exited the dormitory, you found Theo bundled up with an equal amount of layers, yet he looked just as attractive as he always did. In his hands, he held a single rose. You flushed a bright red, especially as a group of first year girls giggled as they exited the dorm behind you.

"Hello," Theo said simply, handing you the rose.

"Hello," you responded shyly, taking it gratefully and holding it in your hands. You smiled nervously, rocking back and forth on your feet. "So."

"So. Are you ready?"

"Yeah."

"Okay." Theo grabbed your hand, holding it gently. You hid your face from his view, not wanting him to know the kind of affect he had on you as he lead you through the castle. "What do you want to do first?"

You had weaved your hand through his arm, resting your head on the edge of his shoulder. "Hm. I need some more quills. But we should definitely stop at the bookshop first. I want to see if they've gotten anything new."

"Okay."

Theo had never been a talkative person - and you had never really minded it, not until now. You wish that maybe he might just tell you he had feelings for you, more than feelings that only arose every once in a while. It would make this so much easier on you. But you were nervous and shy and had a hard time talking to people, even one's you've been friends with. So you remained silent on the walk there.

Theo could tell it was an uncomfortable silence. Not only did being the quiet one meant he could read a room easily, he had also been around you long enough to know when you felt uncomfortable. He stopped the two of you from walking - you were already walking the path to Hogsmeade, snow lightly covered both of your heads.

"What's wrong?"

"N-nothing."

"You don't have to lie to me."

You bit the interior of your cheek nervously. Did you really want to destroy what you had with him? You were content with keeping your relationship the way it was. At least, that's what you convinced yourself.

You felt your gaze being drawn back to Theo, his fingers resting under your chin. "Don't hide from me, love, tell me what's on your mind."

"Love." You felt your heart melt into a puddle of hope and embarrassment. "Theo . . . what are we?"

Theo grabbed your hand and held it up, intertwining your fingers together. He looked at them, with something akin to fascination, and muttered, "What do you want us to be?"

You paused. "I want us to be together," you whispered, looking up at him with eyes of despair. Theo felt his heart wrench at the sight of it. He raised his other hand, brushing it lightly against your cheek.

"Then let's be together," he whispered back. He leaned downwards, meeting your lips in a soft kiss. It wasn't like any of the kisses before that - no, those were passionate, desperate, lust-filled kisses. This was loving, caring, blossoming. He dropped your hand to cup both of your cheeks in his hand, his nose biting into your cheek. "You and I. I like the sound of that."

tags: @plants-are-pretty-cool @annaisabookworm @maricardigan

Thank you all for reading! Be sure to like, reblog, and comment! I really appreciate it ^^. If you have any requests, by inbox is open but make sure to check the list of characters I write for here. If you want to be tagged in any upcoming fics/headcanons of mine, let me know. If you want to see more from me, go ahead and check out my masterlist here!

[cutiepieloves131]

Sidereal Vedic Beauty Indicators Pt.3

~{🪻}~Vishakha: I have no words to describe how divine and picturesque these folks appear that have this placement. Vishaka's beauty is the type that will have you looking for hours or even have you fully captivated and nobody can change my mind about their heavenly and enthralling beauty! They look like porcelain dolls with a delicate effect on them! Vishaka is the "Cherubic Beauty", so these people facial features includes emphasized and broad mid-face, cheekbones which grow outwardly to a strong extent, large, and very defined cheek apples which are slightly low-set, foreheads that are generally medium to tall in height, with a more narrow and short jawline, eyes are most typically small to medium in size, and sometimes generally widely-spaced, and their gaze/natural expression can appear distant, detached, or cold, their noses are plump (wide in the bridge and tip), a horizontally-elongated cupid's bow, and small (often generally spacey) teeth.

Vishakha Women {Left to Right}: Dove Cameron, Cindy Kimberly, Jessica Lowndes

~{🪻}~Swati: Oh. My. Gosh! Ugh, I am so in love with people that have this nakshatra in their charts! Swati individuals beauty is so dazzling and jaw-dropping! Not only that but their eyes are so mesmerizing to many and myself appearing hypnotic due to Rahu's influence. Swati men and women definitely have me in choke hold, you just can't help but to fall in love with their otherworldly visuals! Also I've noticed that they look photogenic and glowing in photos but mostly attention is drawn to the eyes. Swati is known to be the "Bug Pretty", so their features contains protruding eyes with prominent eyelids and medium to close spacing, thin to medium, with a more de-emphasized upper lip, cheek bones that' are on the small side, but high and gently defined, with medium sized cheek apples, contrasting typically shorter, square (to rectangular) face shape, and sometimes with a prominent and pointed chin.

Swati Women {Left to Right}: Glow Princess, Lisa, Eva Marcille

~{🪻}~Ashwini: My oh my!~ Y'all these natives are so fine!~ Ashwini's beauty tends to be youthful and appealing! You'll always see an Ashwini person that never looks their age, or might mistake them for being a kid, teen, or in their early 20's! It's really amazing how they maintain their beauty even at old age, to me Ashwini folks strike me as the one to have their visuals praised by many online and in real life, especially in the Kpop industry. Ashwini represents the "Raven Pretty", their looks consist of full and large cheeks, which are rounded and prominent in the buccal area, face shape tends to be round or gently squared, full and soft fleshy lips that's very succulent, nose is also soft and widened, upturned, and with quite broad nostril wings and rounded nostrils, eyes are typically small to medium in size, almond-shaped, medium to wide-set, and neutral to upturned but have also light vibrant undertones having minimal eyelid spacing, brows that are long, and straight to lightly arched, and shiny hair in dark and ashy tones.

Ashwini Women {Left to Right}: Meika Woollard, Challan Trishann, India Eisley

~{🪻}~Ardra: I had to add another Rahu nakshatra in this post! Ardra beauty is incredibly splendiferous and fetching to me! I'm not joking like Ardra had to be on the list because they can't go unnoticed including their electrifying eyes that's a little protruding and medium to close-set, just like other Rahu nakshatras their eyes are a prominent feature on their face that can't be ignored. Their beauty is one of a kind and rare almost alien-like or dreamy to a lot of people! They tend to outwardly appear celestial in pictures, try brighter, sparkly, and bling filters on your phone, I promise you the results will turn out beautiful! Last not least Ardra natives beauty that's "Diamond Pretty", are made up of a pointy & pinched lower face resulting in a inverted triangle face or ovalish because of the ruling symbol which is the "tear drop", stronger mid-face area, emphasized cheekbones, long medium to large size nose and low-set like the yoni animal (female dog), and lips that are thin to medium.

Ardra Women {Left to Right}: Ariana Grande, Yodit Yemane, Kaya Scodelario

[drarryspecificrecs]

2025.04 ~ Top 7 longest fics posted on AO3

1. Scaturio Praecantatio by HebiKrongrah [M, 242k]

After the war, Harry decides to take responsibility for his actions with the goblins. Little did he know the journey that decision would take him on, or the things he would learn both about himself and others. The only thing he regrets is leaving his small godson, but maybe there is a way to fix that?

2. Draco Malfoy and a Terribly Incompetent Monster by CamWesley [E, 157k]

Draco shows up soaking wet at Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, unable to remember why he’s drenched, but clearly relieved to see Harry. Mostly, he’s simply thankful he remembered enough to have gotten himself home. The real problem is Harry doesn’t know what he’s talking about or how he got past the Fidelius charm. The twist is that it wasn't a potions accident, a prank, or a pining Malfoy trying to get with Harry.

3. Dead End - Petrified by Miss_Merize [M, 114k]

Harry is tormented by terrifying sensory impressions, and although he discovers evidence of an intruder, he begins to doubt his own mind. Meanwhile, the Ministry is covering up its own crimes, and it takes Harry some time to understand the connection. When he is attacked by a vampire, it’s already too late. How long can one maintain control in a battle against their own nature?

4. healing by dracosfirstwife [G, 83k]

a drunken mistake left draco malfoy with a son at the young age of twenty. he's struggling to heal with his trauma from the war, as well as raising a son alone. harry potter took in teddy lupin, his godson, after andromeda tonks fell seriously ill. he's also struggling to heal from his war-caused trauma, but he took teddy in regardless. when teddy unfortunately befriends scorpius malfoy, an unexpected friendship forms between harry and draco. raising kids together, and healing together, the two men end up being more than friends. but healing isn't easy.

5. Just Want You To Know Who I Am by @anxiousthoughts365 [E, 72k]

Harry frowns at the spidery scrawl that spans the parchment, then his eyebrows shoot up into his hairline as he reads: Your secret is safe with me, Potter. And if you need someone to talk to about this, to help you to understand, owl me ~ DM

6. Tincture by @shewhomustnotbenamed [M, 61k]

What if the Philosopher's Stone had never been destroyed? Hidden in the deepest part of the Department of Mysteries, it remained a secret for decades, until the life of Harry Potter was thrown into jeopardy. Draco is the only one with the knowledge to save him.

7. Tangled in Awkward Shapes by Craftswoman [M, 49k]

"I testified for him," Harry said. "How could he get six months?" Kingsley Shacklebolt sighed. "He only got six months because of your testimony, Harry."

—

※ Word count: 1k ~ 15k

※ Word count: 15k ~ 40k

Awakening by raspberrybalm [E, 30k]

blue skies by togepip [E, 36k]

Cake, Conversation, and the Trial of Draco Malfoy by @duchessdulce [T, 36k]

Even Wizards Need Therapists by Gently_into_that_Good_Night [E, 35k]

The Gamble by @ira-dunfort [E, 21k]

Harry Potter and the Conversion of Ethanol by diablocoyote [M, 21k]

Plan Failing by @enbyguously [E, 20k]

Pretty Thing by RavensSihouette [?, 37k]

The Selfish Salvation by @zoooooey0610 [E, 23k]

Soundlessly by @xx-thedarklord-xx [T, 22k]

There's Only One Coffin by @fluffyunderneath [E, 18k]

To (Everyone But) You by Ace_Phoenix [E, 16k]

—

Ongoing Fest/Exchange

※ Fics would be listed elsewhere.

Draco Tops Harry Fest 2025 | @dracotops-harry

Harry in Lingerie Fest | @hilfest

HP Animagi Week 2025 | @hpanimagiweek

[ginnysgraffiti]

Hiii. I wanna say I love your works for all of Timmy’s characters. Ive gotten back into my timothee obsession and after reading your fic on what each character tastes like i was thinking maybe what sex is like with each of his characters? Feel free to ignore this if you don’t want to do it just thought I’d shoot my shot!❤️

so touched to see that someone appreciates my stories TT

i really tried my best with this, i hope i didn't leave any grammar mistakes here and there, enjoy! <3

&. LEE

for a while, lee refused to have sex. he was terrified of hurting you.

however, when you reassured him and told him it was completely okay, he let himself lose it completely and follow his instincts.

that's why sex with lee is rough, primal and wet, and you never actually doubted that.

nights passed in his pick-up, in motels where he would let you stay just to have more comfort and mainly a proper bed, at his aunt's house, anything.

sex with lee would be amazing everywhere, and not a time where he would refuse to dirty talk to you in the meanwhile.

he can fuck. over and over. he's like a rabbit. talking about him slowing down or stopping by himself, the thought wouldn't even cross his mind if your voice doesn't beg for it. he's fast. that's it. he's so damn fast, rough and shameless. he isn't used to matching his pace with his partner's or even taking their time with them, so it would take him some time to get used to your preferences or just maintain control.

lee would be sooooo loud. he would whine and grunt and beg. he also loves when you suck his fingers.

he even ties you up and blindfolds you while playing with your clit, thrilling the fact that you're oblivious about his next move.

the first time would probably be in some natural reserves, where he likes to spend most of his nights. he would fuck you hard on the back of his pickup, so the bright and shining stars could be the only witnesses. he would then take you inside, place you on the front seat and cuddle you to sleep on his lap.

he would start with needy and hungry kisses. everywhere. his tattooed hands would overstimulate you well to hear your moans even before starting. it would be the best adventure ever. he would try anything, all in. he would make sure to use his bony finger as best as he can, he would spread your legs like no one else and start with the damage. the real damage. because once he has the green light (and he always wants your permission) he won't stop. he will destroy you in any way possible. then, he would gradually slow down, return to use his fingers and feel you closer and closer.

he would watch hypnotized as milky fluid, both his cum and yours, leaks from inside of you. he would worship you as his most precious treasure.

&. HAL

do we seriously need to read how it would be to have sex with hal to imagine it?

there's not even the need to say anything, he's already on top of you.

hal is absolutely vocal, desperate groans, loud curses that never leave his mouth.

his mouth is always, always wide open as his pupils roll back.

dom for sure, he's too prideful to be below you, but if you beg enough, maybe he'll let you inside him. he's into fucking you when you're on all fours on the bed, maybe it's a king-thing, but you love it.

he never actually stops when you beg him to, but he absolutely cares about your body after the act.

you're his queen, but when hal is needy you can happily forget about your queen duties. his words, not yours.

he's also into pet play, you're his mutt and he makes it known.

he often enjoys to make you scream his name, moan louder and louder to make sure the messengers, maids or court servants hear you through the door.

making them hear the bed cracking, the slaps he keeps giving you to see your tears softly running down your pale cheeks, the way you lose your breath as he pulls your hair to almost make you swallow his cock.

he's violent, let's say, but he can actually care. really care.

he always adds "my" in front of pet names. my whore, my queen, my sweetheart, my love, my angel.

his kinks include cock worship, absolutely, breeding (we don't need to mention it), power imbalance, exhibition, humiliation (giving, of course), sadism (uhm...).

you never actually discovered how far his sadism can really go, and that scares you a little bit, hearing the servants' opinions or stories about it.

you know he's capable of anything, anything.

however, he makes sure, every single night, to massage you properly during the aftermath, kissing softly every inch of your inner tights while his finger tips play with your nipples.

&. LAURIE

laurie is a softie big cuddly boyyyy.

he waited so long for you to tell him you loved him before he made any sexual advances. he wanted it to be purely making love; not having sex.

he always will treat you first, you're his everything.

he would always clean you first, massage you first, check you out before even looking at himself.

not the most vocal, but definitely not silent. laurie prefers to let out soft moans and quiet praises rather than being vocal and over the top.

he would treat you more like a best friend in public, gently stealing you cheek kisses or holding your fingers under the table. he would eventually tease your inner thighs when -absolutely rarely- he would feel like doing it.

he's a sweet boy, the most intense he gets is probably the occasional slap on the ass when you look or sound too good.

laurie loves your lipsticks. he knows every single one you own and how every single one tastes. when they have a more visible colour and you leave kiss marks on his neck, he would surely refuse to remove them. also, he's into asking you to leave kisses on his shirts.

he's a romantic boy, come on.

during sex, he would always hold your hands. always, never letting go, holding onto you as if you were his only lifeline.

&. ELIO

elio is just like lee, absolutely vocal and completely down for you being on top.

he just lives for that shit, being submissive and guiding your hips as you take complete control.

sex with him would be difficult, because mafalda would always check the sheets and or his night underwear, and you know that elio needs to be careful. however, he's absolutely good and skilled at letting you enter his room late at night.

at the same time, during sex, he would worry often about noises and bed cracks.

in fact, he's totally whiney and whimpery, you have to kiss him to swallow his drawn out moans and don't let him lose control.

as written before, elio is obsessed with just going dumb, he wants you to control him, make decisions for him and use him whenever you want. he's definitely into being your pet, just being a complete boy toy for your use.

you don't always understand the difference whenever he wants you to take the lead or brutally use him, but again, it's clear that he wishes for both.

he loves receiving head, and thinks you're magic the way you work his length when he literally begs for it.

would cry often during sex just from the sheer overwhelming pleasure, always begging you to hold him through the tears.

he's absolutely insecure and would overthink the aftermath for entire weeks, shyly asking you if you enjoyed it, or if he had hurt you or if you still love him. his head goes completely dumb at your every touch, but he constantly needs you to confirm that that's what you want as well.

after the first night, he would suffer every instant he doesn't get to enjoy with you, so he would furtively touch himself or steal your swimming costume.

&. PAUL

deep down, paul is a lover boy.

he had been having visions about you for ages and he would just wait for you to get pregnant in his visions and wish for it to happen as soon as possible.

at the same time, paul isn't a very sexual person, but he enjoys pleasing you whenever you ask him.

during sex, he would always go slow and hold you the whole way through, being as gentle as he can be even when you ask him to move faster. he would eventually lose it as soon as you arch your back, moaning at the friction between your hips.

he often has fantasies about using the voice on you, but he would be way too nervous to tell you about it. in his head, using the voice over you is absolutely arousing.

you soon discovered paul had many kinks, for example calling you mommy (even lee would do that, of course.)

you absolutely adore when he moans, because you can always find a little hint of shame and insecurity, but as soon as you take the lead just to reassure him, his guttural sounds make his whole body throb on top of you.

he would be absolutely careful and use protections, always, except when his visions are too frequent and he would literally kill to get you pregnant, turn you into a mommy and have babies.

you surprisingly discovered that he is down for your cuts or wounds. he often offers to train with you, even if he knows you're so much more experienced than him, but he would just love to lick your fresh blood or your healing wound to feel his tongue fizz.

paul is obsessed when you pull your hair, begging you to make you cum with absolutely no shame.

&. WILLY

sex with willy can be a literal rollercoaster.

he can become extremely needy during sex, and with needy...i mean needy. almost in a very childish way, if we consider that he's impressively incompetent and inexperienced in that field.

once he's inside you, he is shy about it, asking if it's okay if he kisses you deeper or grabs your waist or simple gestures. he always needs to have your permission.

he slowly gains confidence the longer you two are together and the more you are imitate. he would pull you away and just whisper how much he wants you. sometimes, even dirty things, but you never understood if he had a special chocolate to let him gather enough confidence for that.

he can be extremely perv and dirty minded, but he'll never admit it.

he's obsessed with leaving hickeys on you.

he would occasionally start meowing and doing his :] face when you mess with his curls.

if you pull his air while you're on top, taking his cock the best way you can, there will be no return, seriously. he would fuck you all night, and i'm not joking.

willy's got stamina, he really does.

loves to be submissive, there's no need to say it.

just like elio, he would be deadly aroused when you use him like a pet, sometimes he would beg for you to blindfold him or tie his wrists.

in these cases, his wet tongue would do all the work.

loves to smell the sheets after you two had done it, he just loves that smell.

his moans are the sexiest thing ever, but he's more frequent to make small sounds and groans.

when he's on top, willy would use sweet nicknames, tongue twisters or rhymes to sweeten you even more.

if your body hurts he would massage it carefully and give you a special chocolate treat to regain energy.

right after sex, he would be scared to death that you could get pregnant. have mercy, he just doesn't know how it works.

willy is the fastest learner, though.

given that he doesn't know how to start, he willingly accepts all your advice, and knows how to follow them to the letter.

once you give even the smallest instruction, he would just be more and more needy.

[revelboo]

How in the fuck are you pumping out these fics THIS QUICKLY

Guessing you’re new here? I type these short forms pretty quickly if I’m not busy

Stand Too Close Pt 9

IDW Prowl x Reader

• He’d hoped after, he’d be over it. If anything, he made it worse. Because now he can’t stop thinking about how horrified the other Autobots will be if they find out. What Optimus will think of him. He’s supposed to be looking after you, keeping you safe.

• “Stop staring at me like that,” you mutter, wrapping your blanket firmly around yourself. Even with your back to him, you can feel his optics on you. Feel that answering heat spark through you that whispers that something is very wrong with you. How else can you can hate him and still want him. “And that is never happening again.” The words for you as much as him.

• “You weren’t complaining when I was inside you,” he mutters and you glare at him over your shoulder, face reddening. But you don’t argue with him. You can’t when he’d heard those sounds you’d made, felt you holding onto him. Door wings flicking, he swallows a laugh. Wonders if you’ll be taken away and given to another caretaker when Optimus realizes what he’s done. It’s what he’d wanted originally, but now it just makes him angry. As messed up as it is, he enjoys arguing with you. Pissing you off just for fun to watch those angry eyes flash.

• “A moment of weakness.” That’s all, even if for such a stuck up jerk he fucks like an animal. Even if for a short time, you felt like you’d seen the real Prowl. And that the composed, in control bot is all an act. Inhaling slowly, you tip your head back to stare at the ceiling. Anything but seeing those optics back to being pure ice. You’re still naked under the blanket, shifting to rub your thighs together and feeling his excess there. “I like you better angry.”

• He almost does laugh at that, because you don’t realize that he’s always angry. Always on a razor’s edge to maintain control. And he’s so tired of it, but he’s the one that everyone looks to. The infallible tactician who never makes mistakes or loses his temper. It’s what’s expected of him and that weight is slowly breaking him. “Not all of us have the luxury of being able to throw a tantrum.”

• “I don’t know,” you say with a shrug. “Smashing things just for the sheer pleasure of watching them break is good for the soul sometimes.” Because sometimes the only way to get over your issues is to destroy something. It’s something you’ve gotten good at over the years. Not only burning bridges, but delighting in it. He’s staring at you when you look at him and there’s understanding in the wry twist of his lips. If you’re fire, he’s gasoline. No matter what, this isn’t going to end well. You’ve never been good at doing the responsible thing, though.

• You’re not joking, even though you’re smiling reluctantly. If he really let loose, though? You’d run if you knew half the poison in his processor. Every injustice, every senseless death, if he was let off his leash to act without conscious, he’s not sure what he’d do in retaliation. Or if he’d want to stop. Because if he were free to eliminate threats covertly? Without running them past Optimus for permission that will never come, he’s not sure if there’s any line he wouldn’t cross to end this war. Anything he would destroy. That’s why he needs to stay in control, because he’s scares himself and that fury is always right there demanding action.

Previous

Next

[el4ise]

I’M YOURS

feat. ⤷ caleb x reader

genre :: cw ⤷ fluff, tension, slightly suggestive? swearing, masquerade ball setting, no evol au

now playing.. ♫ middle of the night - elley duhé

✦ even with a mask I see your eyes that desires me

the night simply couldn’t get more uninteresting. standing alone admist the crowd, a glass of champagne in your hands in hopes of forgetting your friend just bailed on you. leaving you in a crowd filled with people and their covered faces.

in the unknown presence of all the people, you feel a skin-piercing stare. you turn, noticing a reddish-black masked man gazing directly at your way. underneath his costume, you see a millisecond of his eyes.

sunset. purple-orange. one you’d recognize all the time.

suddenly a man nudges your shoulder lightly. “my my, a beautiful lady like you well in the night. may I?” he bows down, a hand behind his back and the other out for you to hold. you chuckle and take his hand. returning the manner as you placed a hand on his shoulder while his snaked up your waist.

you swore you felt a piercing stare.

the man was polite, you couldn’t see his eyes through the mask but his mouth up in a wide smile could tell it all. “y’know,” he starts, his touch ever so soft on your skin. “I can tell even with a barrier between our faces that you’re a gorgeous woman,” you smile, mumbling a ‘thank you’ while he spun you. “it’d be an honor to me if y–” before he could finish his sentence, your back bumps into a hard chest.

“ahem- excuse me,”

a voice behind you clears his voice, you don’t need to turn around to know who it belongs to. “may I borrow her for a moment?” the man scoffs, “but we haven’t even—” “magnificent! thank you.” he drags my hand away, leaving the man speechless.

the lighrs were dim at the spot. he grabbed two glasses of red wine. “a token for compensation.” he hands you one, you gladly take it. “no need. I wasn’t enjoying it.” he turns to you lightly while grabbing some cherries. “oh? how so? ‘cause to me you looked quite happy.” you laughed. were you? “nonsense. he was a terrible dancer.” you sipped your wine. he chuckles and faces you with a plate full of cherries.

you take one.

putting the cherries to your lips painfully slow while maintaining eye contact. letting your lips fully engulf the shape of it before biting. you see his adam’s apple bob in a gulp.

a trail of cherry juice drips down your chin, as you were about to grab a tissue, his hand stops your wrist, slightly pulling you closer. his thumb swipes over the corner of your lips. the juice now coating his thumb, he puts it over his lips, his tongue licking the residue. two can play that game.

god was it a mistake to challenge this man.

“why’d you drag me out here, colonel?” you ask, leaning on the table while sipping the rest of the wine. “can’t i simply take you?” he says, setting the plate down. “I know. you can,” you step a little closer, “..but is that the only reason?” faces mere meters apart, it took every single bit of his power not to pull you in right there and then.

suddenly the lighting shifts into a dimmer one. the spotlight remains at the center of everything— his gaze turns to it, then back at you. “may I?” he takes his hand out, waiting. “let me take you to a real, proper dance.”

his movements were swift, yet clean. each step of your heel were equivalent to his, no beat unrecognized and unmatched. he takes your fingertips to his, spinning you lightly on your toes and pulls you back in, pressing your back flush against his chest.

“you don’t know how much I want you.”

“hm? maybe I do.”

his hand creeps up your cheek, index finger tugging at the ties of the mask. “caleb—” “please. wan’ to see you,” you exhaled, letting him untangle the knots as the white mask clutters to the floor as it drops. eyes ever so shining under the spotlight, his movement stills for a second. “almost forgot how fascinating you are,” he leans in. “don’t ever let a mask cover your gorgeous face again.”

© el4ise ✦ do not repost or translate

taglist ──── @nishikio, @jeondyy, @ruenaie

ellie’s notes 𐙚 hoped y’all liked this :’p I have about 5+ requests I need to write so pls don’t rush me T^T I’m gonna write them all I promise!