#and also (and i cannot emphasize this enough) the 'i love the way your nose wrinkles up' line fucking GOT ME

[thedragonagelesbian]

I DONT REMEMBER THESE LINES BEING CLASS SPECIFIC IM SCREAMING...

[moonlightdreamzz]

Moments of Praise — Bangchan and Felix.

GENRE ✰ Smut, Fem!Reader

SUMMARY ✰ How these two praise you in your intimate moments.

WARNING ✰ pure smut. tehehehehehe!

Bangchan

It all started with a dream. A dream in which a combination everything he adores about you, and every beautiful memory the two of you have shared thus far engulfed him in his sleep. He woke up so extremely hard, although the dream itself was innocent, which he truthfully felt guilty for. However, it wasn’t enough guilt to stop his prerogative. He slowly begins to leave his dream state and grabs his phone that he now realizes didn’t charge. He had enough juice to slip you a quick call, though.

“You okay, baby?” Your voice is raspy and barely audible, which shows Chan that you too, had also just woke up. Your fluffy white duvet is hiding half of your face, and it makes him a tad bit sad because he loves how puffy your face is in the morning.

“Yeah. I’m sorry for the early call. I just wanted to tell you that you’re so beautiful.”

He knows you’re going to laugh and protest that he must have done something wrong to tell such a lie, and that’s exactly what you say.

“Don’t laugh.” He chuckles. “I’m being serious. You’re perfect, love. You’re so…” He pretends to ponder, although he already knows what his next words will be, “…precious.” He finishes. “And truthfully, it’s taking every fiber in my being to not come to your house right now and show you how perfect you are, but I’m trying to refrain.”

He failed.

His hands now find themselves buried deep in your panties, and he can tell with the look of utter confusion on your features, although it’s mixed with pleasure, that you’re questioning what you did to deserve this. That’s okay though, because he loves the way you become so…submissive when he tells you how genuinely amazing you are.

“Don’t look at me like that princess. You know you deserve this. You’ve been doing such a good job at work. You’ve been so patient with me. You never complain no matter how busy I am.” His finger tips continue to rub your pearl in a circular motion, just the way you like. You’re practically grinding into his hand—this part of foreplay always turning you on so intensely.

“You’re literally fucking perfect.” He growls. “From head to toe. And you’re all mine, aren’t you sweetheart?” He interrogates. He slaps your pearl lightly before continuing to work magic with his middle and ring finger. “I don’t even deserve you, or your pretty c**t.”

Felix

Felix adores you to the deepest depths of your being. This includes the way you whined and cried for him while he teased you viciously. That's why you're lying on your back; this is the seventh time Felix has let your org*sm creep up on you, only to remove your vibrator from your cl*t and throw it on the bed.

You look absolutely stunning right now. Every part of your body is glistening, and your bedroom is filled with the scent of desperation, all thanks to your pu*** that is pooling. Felix cannot take his eyes off of you and it’s driving you insane because you know you’re on his time, right now. You could lift yourself up and try to press your lips to his, but he would simply push you back on the bed, adding more time to your edging, which is the last thing you want to do.

Felix leans forward, simultaneously chuckling. You feel the vibration from the sound as his nose connects to yours. He’s staring into your soul, fully clothed, yet you’re bare.

“You’re such a good girl, Y/N.” He growls, his smile mocking. His lips gently press against yours; it's beautiful and filled with the love you know he'll give you when you've came enough times to his liking. “The best girl.” He emphasizes as he places his member at your entrance. You’re soaked and ready for him, so it’s nothing for him to slide into your body. His hands immediately wrap themselves around your neck lightly, and he slowly begins to make himself at home inside you.

You're at a loss for words because you expected him to wreck you, but he didn't. His strokes are delicate, with inches feverishly throbbing. He clearly wants to move faster, and so do you, but he isn't. Why?

“Look, baby.” He instructs, looking down at where your bodies are currently connecting. “You see how well you’re taking me right now? Do you see how wet you are?”

You admire the site as requested, and it’s driving you closer and closer to your finish line you had been desperately waiting for.

“My baby,” Felix’s Aussie accent is thick with admiration and lust. "I wish you could see yourself right now." His thumb presses on your cl*t, causing the both of you to moan - him, due to him succumbing to your wetness, and you for obvious reasons. "You're so fucking beautiful. You're always so wet for me." He growls. The praise is causing you to practically collapse, which in turn fuels Felix to continue as he continues to stroke as a consistent pace.

"Who's the prettiest girl in the world, hm? You know it's you right?"

"Look at you...taking this di** like the good girl you are for me. And after such a long day too? You know I'm going to reward you."

"Fuck, you feel so good. I'm swimming, baby."

"Mhm. Grab my ass and help me f*** you good. Show me who's boss, baby."

[rin-fukuroi]

𝐓𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐲 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐮𝐥 [𝐍𝐞𝐮𝐯𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞]

Please do not translate or publish my works without my permission.

The originals of my works can be read here

Fandom: Genshin Impact

Pairings: Neuvillette x fem!reader

Warnings: just cute fluff

Note: English is not my native language, so I apologize if there are errors in the text qq

I've seen enough art with Neuvillette in glasses, so I couldn't keep it to myself anymore!

— Do you want me to… put on glasses? — the Hydro Dragon's eyes widen when he looks up at you, looking up from the stack of papers lying on his desk.

Your sudden requests and desires never cease to amaze him. Although people in general are still a mystery to Neuvillette, but you seem to be a puzzle for him, which he will never be able to cope with. Maybe that's why he fell in love with you for the first time. Despite the fact that your behavior sometimes raises a lot of questions in his head, the Chief Justice of Fontaine really believes that his place is next to you. Sudden changes in your mood are so hard to predict, and your actions do not cease to surprise him day by day. This… Truly beautiful.

— Yes, — you rest your elbows on the wooden surface of the table in Neuvillette's office, resting your head on your palms in anticipation. The eyes in which these fascinating sparks always dance, which the Hydro Dragon lacks, but for some reason, when you look at him as if he is the core of your little amazing world, the structure of which he has yet to understand, Neuvillette's gaze also softens, imbued with your infectious brilliance.

— Do you understand that I have no problems with my eyesight, right?

— Yes, yes, I am aware that you are my great Hydro Dragon, and human health problems are alien to you, but … I'm sure you will look stunning in them! — you smile radiantly, removing one of your hands from your chin to push your glasses a little closer to Neuvillitte's puzzled sitting figure.

— Stunning?.. — he's really confused, but it seems to mean that you think the glasses will look good on him, right?

The Judge's eyebrows furrow when he looks at the thing you so insistently suggest him to wear, and a quiet sigh escapes from his chest before the corners of his lips barely noticeably stretch into a smile.

You watch in anticipation as his long, thin fingers gently straighten the arches of his glasses, slowly bringing them to his face. Neuvillette's long eyelashes lightly touch his cheeks when he closes his eyes, carefully, as if in his hands a real luxury item, arranging glasses on the bridge of his nose. He is always so sensitive to any thing that you give him, whether it's a wardrobe item or a freshly baked bun, which is hardly worth being especially careful with. But that's why you love him. Neuvillette isn't tainted by human vices, is not spoiled by prejudices. He's just the way he is, and watching him will never cease to arouse your interest.

As soon as the mother-of-pearl pale purple eyes open, looking confusedly at you through thin glasses, your hands suddenly tremble slightly at your face. Neuvillette notices how your lips part and your pupils dilate while your eyes are mesmerized by his chiseled features.

Perfect.

He looks even better than you might have expected. The image of Neuvillette has never been quite modern, but the way glasses only complement his classic style of clothing, emphasize the correct features of his face, the way from such a small detail the aura of order and rigor emanating from the Supreme Judge is usually felt even more clearly, simply cannot but admire.

But the man is really confused. You are silent, without saying a word, just continuing to stare at him as if he is a painting painted by a talented artist in one of Fontaine's galleries. Nothing has changed, he's still the same as before, so why is your gaze oozing with adoration now, even more than usual? Can such little things really change the human perception of other people's appearance so easily?

— You… — finally Neuvillette hears your voice, sounding so frighteningly quiet. Your eyebrows furrow, and the Chief Justice straightens up in his chair, not understanding what you're going to say next. Are you happy? Upset? Did he make you angry about something? — You look absolutely gorgeous, Neuvi.

A burning warmth tingles Neuvillette's cheeks. He always feels so stupid when he can't figure out what you're thinking, but maybe that's the reason why his interest in you will never fade? You're so funny when you smile, slightly squinting your eyes and reaching out to remove a stray snow-white strand of soft hair from his flushed face.

Even if you have a much shorter period of stay in this world, even if you are so different that it even scares the Hydro Dragon sometimes, but he appreciates every moment spent with you, imprinting in his memory every smile that touched your lips, and every sound of your gentle voice addressing him with such awe that his heart can't help but beat faster in his chest.

— When we get home, you have to wear them again, because it's sexy as hell! — and again your mood changes, as if by a click, when you giggle, leaning back in your chair, playfully examining the confused expression on the face of the Supreme Judge.

His shoulders relax slightly, and his hands reach for the papers on the table again.

— If that's what you want, I'm ready to wear them whenever you want.

[nat-of-personifs]

So You Want To Eat A Personification

One day, it was asked what personif would taste like.

Well, it depends on your relation to that personif, the part of the personif you’re eating, how you’re eating the personif, and which personif you’re eating. The Foundation is agreed by all to be very unpleasant except for O5-10 Kay Martin, and they drink coffee the way they drink coffee, so I don’t think they’re the best judge on taste anyway.

Meat and other bodily parts taken from a dead personif will of course be different from such sliced or siphoned from a living one. Blood often becomes tasteless, which is, according to Geog, the reason so many people in the modern day worship the HRE. They ingested his blood accidentally through the water supply.

Blood is the most common part of personif consumed, due to its significance in human culture as a whole, its relatively easy acquisition, and the fact it won’t kill you instantly if it’s your first time eating personif the way cerebrospinal fluid would. If you are eating the blood of a personif for the first time and have not had exchange for very long with them, 1) please compare your existing knowledge of the personif to the BITE model one more time to make sure she’s not actually a cultspirit because a lot of cultspirits do this to signal that you’re taken to other personifs, 2) your safe dose is less than a cup. Exact dosages that will not result in you falling violently ill vary depending on person, but generally if you start feeling nauseous, stop and drink a normal liquid.

Fat and muscle are also relatively beginner-safe parts of a personif to try. The most common places of harvest are the thighs and forearms for reasons that are immediately apparent if you look at an impact play safety guide.

Organs! Now, I hope I don’t have to say that unless you have been provided with an adequate explanation for how they were able to source organ meat from a living personif that doesn’t entail torture, you probably shouldn’t eat it and it would be wise to leave immediately and call anyone other than the SCP Foundation. Assuming you are sure the kidney on your table was sourced somewhat ethically, I’ll run through a list of some major organs and explain what they might taste like based on common symbolism associated with them. For OTJs and STJs, because NTJs don’t take as well to being eaten in general.

Eyes: they’re often crunchy like glass and may cut your mouth like glass would, but I’ve never put glass in that particular orifice of my body so I wouldn’t know. I also have never eaten an eye because the texture freaks me out.

Nose: it has been universally reported that it will taste the way the personif’s true body smells.

Lips: lecterns and mass protests.

Neck: I’ll be talking about that on @yourcityisanomega.

Heart: do NOT eat this unless you know the personif personally because you WILL die. I cannot emphasize enough that with these fuckers symbolism is everything. If you do know the personif well enough to not die, I can’t give you any pointers on the taste other than that it will be very strong, and you’ll likely feel as if you’re on the sugar high of your life afterward. Because you are. You’re high. You’re eating a creature made out of your own thoughts. You probably need to reevaluate your work-life balance. How are your children doing? Do you have children at all? Did you want to before you met this personif? (And for the love of the god that you’ve replaced with her don’t have children WITH the personif it’s got a higher chance of going wrong than fucking your sibling will and also if you know the personif that well you’re probably in charge of a major part of her and that’s dubcon by default.)

Liver, kidneys, anything part of the urinary system: it’s going to smell and taste like the wastewater treatment plant no matter what you do because that’s what it fucking is. Just don’t eat it.

Lungs: again, it’s going to taste the way the true body smells, but the texture will be much more interesting.

Anything in the endocrine system: odd choice, but okay. This is also probably a bad idea to eat as an initiation ritual because you’ll feel like a teenager all over again, and if you’re eating the adrenal glands, you’ve got a high chance of developing an anxiety disorder.

Stomach, intestines, anything in the digestive system: it might taste like actual food. Highly recommend if you’ve known the personif long enough for it not to be a shock. (I really like beef tripe so I’m probably biased on this.)

Reproductive system: @yourcityisanomega.

Brain/cerebrospinal fluid: if you’re not prepared the trip will be worse than Datura. Don’t. Just don’t. It is a controlled substance and you could be arrested, assuming you survive at all. Even a drop of the stuff can knock you out for days reliving the personif’s worst memories. And then you’ll spend the rest of your very short life doing nothing but worshipping them.

Now, why would you want to do any of this?

You might be curious—Geog definitely was. Or you might be French and this isn’t that far removed from your normal diet. But the most likely reason is that you want to ensure that someone can take you out of your personif, but they’ll never take your personif out of you. Eating them facilitates exchange and allows you a slight window into their mind, while you become more susceptible to their influence. Throughout history, many groups have drunken small amounts of personif blood to increase unity in dire situations, or larger amounts as a test of loyalty. The O5 Council requires daily consumption of Ira Siegel for a few months by those undergoing training for the position.

But exchange means letting an outside force manipulate your thoughts, and too much of it turns you into the personif’s puppet, or a very messy codependent father-daughter relationship like with Aaron and Ira. For those who don’t build up tolerance, the shock can kill.

I blame the goihumans discord server for everything.

[morvantmortuary]

Heyy, I just wanted to ask you this question because it’s been bothering me for a long time. Do you think the Morvants would love still love their reader if they were ugly? I know that ugly is a word that is thrown around a lot but I mean it. Someone who is not conventionally attractive at all, who is not the desired version of plus size. Someone who has a big tummy, big thighs but not a round ass. Someone who is fat not thick. Someone who is not wanted by anyone. Would the Morvants still love them? Someone like me? I’m sorry if this is depressing I just can’t get out of my head and I hate the thought of my comfort people not loving me. Either way thank you for bringing them to life and letting us read about them ❤️❤️

I'm sorry this took me so long, sweetheart -- I've been caught between coordinating ongoing events at work with a whole learning curve, dissertation prep, and then a migraine swept my feet out from under me this morning, so I've just been trying to get my shit back together lmao. but I've been thinking about it since you sent it in. <3 I almost wanted to save this to be part of something I'm going to try to do coming up, (*knocking loudly on wood*), but I didn't want to leave you hanging.

short answer first to alleviate any anxiety: yes, absolutely, 100% without a doubt. once you're their person, you are their person, and nothing will change that -- not aging, or weight shifting, or any of the things that come with having a body and being mortal, okay?

I'll put the rest under a cut, because you got me talking a little on something I'm kind of sensitive about too <3

allow me a quick digression: from a doylist perspective, I'm writing the Morvants as someone who's definitely also on the curved stomach/big thighs/plush upper arms/saggy boobs side of things, along with some really frustrating skin that's prone to breakouts at the drop of a hat and other things about myself that lowkey stress me out on the daily. and we are just as worthy of love and desire and affection as anyone else, I promise you. <3 you do not have to be society's idea of beautiful to be worthy of love, or to be a good person. I'm sure you already know this, but I'm repeating it specifically just so you hear it, okay?

"ugly" is entirely subjective -- I'm also someone who isn't conventionally attractive, shall we say -- but I know we are our own meanest critics. I won't fight you on the word if it's one you've embraced, as I know everyone has a different relationship with it, but I will say I bet you're not giving yourself enough credit, honey. people do not have to be conventionally pretty to be worthy of love or a good life, I cannot emphasize that enough. we both deserve that, and we’re gonna get it, goddammit.

and you know something else? conventionally pretty changes every couple decades, and imho usually kind of sucks anyway. I think of being "ugly" as being memorable, distinct. we will never be duplicated, or in danger of looking like everyone else in our time. we're both a manifestation of history's crooked smiles and crows' feet and noses in interesting shapes. that's the kind of shit artists would want to sketch, baby, that's the fun part of being alive.

and circling back to that shifting standards bit -- I promise you there's a lot more classical statues that look like you and me than a lot of what you see on the image/video-dependent apps nowadays, okay? don't forget that. we've been the models for divinity for centuries now, as hard as it is to remember when the waistband of your jeans leaves a mark behind when you take them off like a regular mortal.

plus, there's the old saying about how your features are actually proof that people have loved people who looked like you for generations now. or the myth that your face was actually the face of the person you loved the most in your last life. on the days I'm feeling exceptionally self-critical, I find that one helps: that I've been left with the stewardship of the face of the person I adored more than anything, who meant so much to me in another lifetime that I might not still remember their name, or the sound of their laugh, but they imprinted onto me still, and I owe it to them to take care of it even if I can't bring myself to do it for me.

('rae you're delusional.' I might be. but here we are at the romantic necromancer blog, so it had to come from somewhere!!)

but anyway, you're not here for all that, you're here for the necromancers, so I'll get to those. thanks for humoring me, though ;3 and I hope it helped at least a little, maybe!

If you remember from the October Arc, a lot of Maxi and his Reader falling in love are them finding someone who feels just as out-of-place in the world as they do. When he meets you, he relishes the idea that he finally has someone he can be completely open with — not having to hide his dark sense of humor for the sake of propriety, someone who won’t think he’s weird or gross for being as fascinated by death and the horrible, beautiful parts of it as he is in his position. (A lot of morticians he knows will quickly say they’re not a morbid weirdo obsessed with death, just a normal person who does a job — he is definitely the aforementioned weirdo they’d like to distance themselves from. Who wouldn’t be, with his upbringing?) When he first falls for you, it’s because he’s realizing that after a lifetime of thinking he could only ever be alone (both due to his powers and his particular grimly sunny disposition), there was finally, really, someone who understood. Someone who doesn’t shy away from him in his more vicious turns, who isn’t going to pull back at the last minute when they see beneath the suit and the calmly professional exterior he shows to the rest of the town. It’s exhilarating. He never wants to lose that, and he’d do anything to keep you — to keep you his, and to keep you whole, healthy, and happy. He’s in love first and foremost with the person he knows to be his literal soulmate, the person he trusts with his heart after so long, and your body is precious to him because it keeps you both on the mortal plane. However you choose to adorn it, ornament it, or whatever designs are written into your genetics, it’s something he’s going to adore. But even outside of that — he would love you in any form you took, any change you decided to make, because it’s you. It’s always going to be you, and you’re his. And if he’s being totally honest, he hand to god has a thing for bigger people. It’s partly due to his specialization with flesh, compared to Rora’s bone and Hex’s ectoplasm, but also because he just finds it really, really attractive when someone has some extra pounds. He’s spent a lifetime around bodies that offered no comfort - be it very little warmth or affection from his living family, the cooling bodies of the mortuary in various states of decay, or the warped, broken horrors of the things still half-alive in the basement. His own body has been a source of stress (being lanky and soft in places at the same time all his life), of pain (growing up is hard enough, growing into a body that shapes itself to the needs of a demon doesn’t help), or of bitterness on his part (we’re going to learn more about why he re-opened the scar on his chest at some point). Your body, for whatever flaws you find with it, is something he associates completely with sweetness. He finds comfort in its shape, the way it moves, the way it feels under his hands. You’re entirely alive; your body works to keep you so. It’s a creature dedicated to keeping you here with him, so how could he not be devoted to it? He’s fascinated by all the parts of yourself you’re most concerned about, because it not only makes you something one of a kind (something he thinks of as his and his alone, in his darker, more possessive moments), but he’s also terribly taken with the softer parts of you. In your more intimate moments, he relishes the contrast between the pair of you - you’re unmistakably there, you take up space and ground him with the reality of your presence. (He gets a little carried away being clingy sometimes: whether it’s his hands over every inch of skin he can touch, squeezing the flesh he so adores, biting a little too eagerly at the softest parts of you where you’ll feel the marks later and remember him. Especially your thighs. He’s a thigh man at heart, always.) You’re always his darling, and he looks forward to watching you grow into your old age with him, however you change. Change means life, and he wants to linger on this side of the Veil with you as long as both of you possibly can stay. Watching you gain wrinkles, go gray, your weight shift around — it’s a privilege, and he treats it as such. You’ll have forever on the other side, he knows that. He’s not worried about that. It’s that the two of you can only do this part once, and he wants to make sure you enjoy it as much as possible. Until both your bones are in the family crypt, or ashes are mingled in the same secret place, he’ll love you and whatever your body looks like.

Hex doesn’t love in half-measures. When he’s into you, he’s all in. As we’ll see in his arc, he can’t always put his finger on what initially draws him to someone. But usually, he saw something in the most interior parts of yourself, your very soul’s essence, first. A glimmer of it caught his eye somehow — its color, its light, some facet of you that’s sewn through the entire fabric of your being. Whatever the sign was, he would follow it until he found you… And when he found you, saw you for the first time, your looks would be a matter of interest, certainly. But he wouldn’t be searching you for any kind of lack. He has no mental version of you to compare the real you with, no expectations. Your body is you, through and through, but what you are only complements what he’s already seen. He’s only looking at you to see the things he already knows he’s going to fall in love with. He sees your body as the backdrop onto which your Self is projected. (He would love Judith Butler if he read them ever lmao.) He’s fascinated with the little ways you manifest in your physicality: your geometry of your teeth, and how they’re arranged in your smile; how light plays on the fullness of your face; the precise way your belly moves when you laugh. The way you dress, walk, what you do with your hands when you talk. The way you move through the world is pageantry to him when it’s instinct to you. It’s something to be savored, because it only happens once. Hex knows what it’s like to be shy about certain things; he’s never been very confident in words alone, because people can say anything, only their actions will speak true. But looks, to him, are part of the factual, real world he can see. (Ironically, he’s one of those guys who very much believes in what he sees in front of him — he can just see way, way more than most people can.) You can make changes, or stay exactly as you are, and he will automatically accept that as part of the truth that is You. He also knows what it’s like to not be the blueprint that everyone else wants to look like, but he feels like there’s no point in stressing about that. Does your body bring you comfort when you sleep next to him, or when you eat the food he makes for you? Do you feel happy and free when you dance together? Do you like it when he touches you (there, and there, and…)? If the answer to all of these is yes, he figures, then why worry when you don’t have to? That’s easier said than done, though, he knows. But he will remind you, in a thousand ways, how he loves you for exactly how you look now. Your shape is the shape you were always going to come into his life with, he sees no reason to think about you in another. Your hair was always going to look that way in the light, your eyes were always going to be that color. Why would he ask one of the ancient oak trees outside to change the arrangement of its branches? Why would he ask the sun to be a different color when it sets? You are just as constant as that, to him. You don’t have to be beautiful by everyone else’s standards to be a force of nature that shapes his days. Whenever you cut your hair or switch your clothes or anything else, it’s just like the golden or blue hours to him — something he counts himself lucky to witness. Of the trio, he’s the ass guy, sure, but that means he’s smitten with what’s there. You are most attractive to him when you’re happy, and he only wants to make you happier when he holds you, and shows you exactly how you make him feel, with his hands or his lips or his tongue or— even, yes, the inconstancy of words. He doesn’t want you to think about how you look when the two of you are together, he only wants you to think about how you feel, and how good he feels with you. But he will do his best, always, to make you understand how much he loves your mortal self and everything it encompasses, until the pair of you cross through the Veil and shed your corporeal forms. (He can kind of do that now, tbh, and he’s more than happy to put it to use in some… very interesting ways if you’d be down with it.)

Rora makes it no secret that she loves that you’re not just another doll in a world that demands them. She has a hard, angry relationship with the idea of beauty standards in that she wishes she could set all phone cameras on fire at the same time. She thinks the modern world is mad for what it did to itself, how people have just made it that much harder for everyone to just exist, and it was already hard enough before she accidentally opened her own throat. She is indeed lovely in a nightshade kind of way, and she will acknowledge this when you both are sharing hard feelings, but the idea of beauty and desirability caused her nothing but pain when she was young. She’s a lot like you in the sense that she only sees what she’s missing: she was never the blonde, buxom type. She was never the southern belle that her parents had hoped for, or the perfectly feminine little mini-me that Mathilde had dreamed of for decades (and made no effort to hide her disappointment when Rora didn’t turn into that girl overnight). She wasn’t pretty in the right way her father needed to see her as an effective bargaining chip. She spent her entire first life feeling like she was made all wrong for what was expected of her. She has a loose relationship at times with her own gender, both because she’s doing things again in a borrowed mortal shell, and because she feels at times more like a creature than anything else. But she loves you. She loved you from the minute she first saw you — she loved your skin with any marks that might be there, the particular set of your mouth under your nose, the parts of you that move whenever you aren’t thinking about them. From your hair follicles to your fingernail beds, you were something she found wholly lovely in just how singular you are. You are the only version of you she’s ever seen. You are a rarity. Even in the most common parts of yourself, they’re a combination she hasn’t seen on anyone else her entire life. You look real to her. You look whole, and alive, and like a person who is allowed to just be. You move through the world as yourself, one of a kind, and there’s a part of her that, even now that she’s gained her independence, desperately envies that. Rora’s love is the kind of obsessive where she almost wants to set you on a stool like an artist’s model and study you up close. She wants to make notes about the places where your skin changes color, she wants to look at how your flesh settles into itself. You got folds, or rolls? She wants to get as close to them as she can, look at them like how soft-serve ice cream swirls into itself or a nautilus shell curls around. She wants to look at every bruise or old scar or stretch mark and take in the patterns of your life that has written yourself there. She wants to look at you naked like you would count the rings of a tree to see what the weather was like each year of its life, or like a big cat lounging in the sun. You are just as wild to her, and natural, and beautiful. …And then she wants to throw aside her notebook where she’s cataloguing every piece of you and eat you alive, but just in the fun way. Rora is the boob person of the three, and she is obsessed with yours if you have them/like people touching them. It doesn’t matter what size they are, if they sag, where your nipples point, she’s going to spend an absurd amount of time with her face in them whenever you’re shirtless. She’s just as bad about getting overexcited as her twin, and might bite or suck a little too hard at times, but she’s just enchanted by you. You are the earth itself made manifest to enjoy the sunshine and the breeze in the garden, and you have given her the supreme gift of deciding you like her too. She couldn’t not be in love with you if she tried. She understands our relationships with our bodies are complicated, but she is always on your side. She’d blind the entire town with a butter knife if it meant you felt more comfortable just sitting in the cafe with her. But she understands that the prison time for that is pretty hefty, so she’ll settle for refusing to let you talk bad about yourself.

I know this took a minute, and I’m sorry again love, but I hope it gives you what you needed. <3 Just know that I’m right there with you, but I would still rather us look like you and me than anyone else. Fuck the people trying to sell us something, we’re marvels as we are.

[hellfire--cult]

hey! So I just finished Scent and already I know I'm gonna be thinking about this one for a while.

The way you've created this story in an AU where so many things are different, but there's still so much the same... it's so on the nose. Everything she goes through.. loneliness, rejection, feeling shut out and the pain it causes. It can be too much for people in real life, nevermind in an AU where the symptoms are much more physical. The pain and hopelessness were palpable.

And it's such a good representation of the other side of this, Eddie's side of things, I mean. The way one person can decide someone's not worthy (mistakenly or not), then entire friend groups just follow suit. Even if they know in their hearts it's wrong. Seen it so many times and human nature is so shitty sometimes.

It really hurt to read her dropping, and Eddie's guilt, even before he knew the reason they were in this mess to start with. It feels like a nod to how selfish we can be sometimes. He was personally rejected by her, so in his head she must be shunned by the others. It may be a typical alpha trait in this world, and he may have only been trying to protect himself, but it's also a typical trait in real life. Again, so many things the same.

Robin was the real hero of this story to me. Don't get me wrong, the comfort at the end was gorgeous, Eddie realising he'd gone too far and coming through for her in the end, it was so romantic. But Robin was the one who stood up and said no.

She was the one who defied him and was brave and knew her own mind enough to know it was wrong, and not just go along with the others. It's like having that one friend that will stand up for you, who's got your back no matter what, even if everyone else had turned against you. Anyone who has this is so fortunate. I kinda wanted R and Robin to just form their own little pack of two at one point.

Basically I loved this a whole lot, and the ideas and the stuff it's made me think about were heavy and real and it's just great writing. This has gotten so much deeper and more dramatic than I meant it to, but honestly it's such a strong take on how awful it can be to feel you don't have a place, or a home anywhere. Thank you for sharing it, sorry for such a ramble 🖤🖤

oh WOW

I

I DIDNT EXPECT THAT BLURB THING I WROTE TO BE SO LIKED

I appreciate the fact that you took time to write all of this for me, it truly means a lot that people can feel the emotions i put into my writing because sometimes I do feel like i'm not doing enough or sometimes I think I am overdoing it

This is exactly what I wanted to convey. It goes beyond the ABO dynamics, I just put it there for the extra hurt really, for the rejection and the loneliness to be felt even stronger than the normal AU fics. I wanted to show how painful those feelings can truly be, and we don't have the defense mechanism omegas do, so it hurts even more knowing that we have to deal with it, everyday, at every hour and we cannot just shut it down.

Eddie's stubborness and anger was beyond the alpha trait because he truly did love her and because of some miscommunication he ended up despising her but never hating her, not truly, not fully

Robin was in fact the MVP of this story. Again, the ABO dynamic is to emphasize how she strongly disliked Eddie's attitude, so much, that she decides to leave his pack and that is no easy task to do in this universe. It shows how much she feels for reader, and I'm happy you caught onto that

Again, thank you for your words, they inspire me to write more and they did bring a smile to my face

I truly needed it! ❤❤

[sleep-deprivedracoon]

Tell it to my heart

Here's to the one with the scorching stare of love, blood, and vengeance. Eyes killer cold, blue and bare.

pairing: Gojo Satoru x f! reader AU - Mafia

warnings: angst, implied abuse, injuries, blood, alcohol, death, suicide, drug usage, addict, recovery, smut, gore, violence, trauma, guns, abuse, sex, overstimulation, rape threats, murder

Author’s note: This fanfiction is going to be a slow-build story with an irregular upload scheme. I am not sure when I will be able to update. I might upload multiple chapters in a single week or not upload for a few weeks. It depends on what my daily schedule is, and it is very dynamic. This story is for a mature audience and will have a lot of problematic themes. If this is triggering to you, please refrain from interacting with this story. The content warning is for the entire story and not just for this chapter. Again, I cannot emphasize enough, that this is a slow-burn story. In this story, you will find some changes in mannerisms among characters. Gojo Satoru will be smoking and drinking. Yuji and Sukuna will be 2 different people but are related by blood. The main reason is, that I do not see Yuji being part of a Mafia unless he had no other choice. The cursed spirits will be human in appearance.

Notes for this chapter: TRIGGER WARNINGS – PTSD OF ABUSE

<< Previous chapter | CHAPTER LIST

art credits - @neverwho_art on Instagram (i added a b&w filter on top of it to fit the theme of this chapter)

Chapter 13 – Hollow

You were sweating bullets even though the AC was set to cool the room down. It felt like you ran a marathon when in reality your tremors were the ones triggering your sweat. You had already thrown up a couple of times in the past few hours. Your nose was dripping and you wiped it off with a tissue. Shoko had cleaned all your wounds and treated your burns. She said it would take a few days for the soles of your feet to recover. Your nails would probably take a couple of months to fully grow back. The withdrawal was painful. You had been through this multiple times already but it was still painful. Every muscle in your body ached. All you wanted was some relief and there was only one way to get it. You were hooked to an IV as you were severely dehydrated and malnourished. You were given electrolytes every few hours. You were advised to rest as much as you could but sleep was not peaceful. You kept waking up every now and then. You found Yuji sleeping on the floor. The boy had not left your side ever since Shoko was done treating you. He tended to your every need.

You also had Sukuna visit you. He was mad at you. Mad at himself.

“What were you thinking???” He pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Utahime was in danger… I had to-”

“You had to tell me that the Zenin prick was going to put you up to this. I would have had this handled. Look at what they have done to you.” He shakes his head.

You begged him to take a picture of you. You wanted to see what you had been through. Although it scared you, you needed to see what they’d subjected you to. When he handed you his phone to show you the picture, you barely recognized the person you saw staring back at you. You were clad in a simple loose gown similar to the ones you could find in a hospital. You were covered in bandages. Your hair was matted and your eyes were covered by dark circles. You had lost a lot of weight. But what caught your attention was that your eyes were devoid of any emotion. They were hollow.  It felt like you were looking at a stranger.

“It’s not that bad…” Yuji tried to reassure you.

You just nod and hand the phone back to Sukuna.

The next time you were asleep, you were woken up by someone’s footsteps entering your room. Your body was now tuned to wake up at the slightest of disturbances.

“Shit, I didn’t mean to wake you up.” He looked alarmed. His blue eyes still had the same gravity that they did before. His hair was more skewed than usual.

“Satoru…” You whispered. He was here. He was okay. Your eyes quickly scan him for any serious injuries.

“Hello… ” He rubbed the back of his head.

“Strawberry Haze… that is the password.” You quickly blurt out.

“I am sorry, what?” He looked genuinely confused.

“Geto… He wanted a password from me. I think it was for a warehouse. I overheard Mahito and him talk about it. The password to the warehouse is strawberry haze… Asami texted it to me when she was going to see me. She also mentioned it when we met. I mean, why would she want a very specific strain of weed if she was short on her usual drugs? I don’t know where this warehouse is but I am willing to bet on it that the password is Strawberry Haze.” You pause to catch your breath. You didn’t remember the last time you spoke so much.

“So that is why he captured you.” He sits on the edge of your bed.

“That is why he kept me alive. He genuinely believed I knew it.” You sit up and lean your back against the headrest.

“Alive? Hah!” Gojo closes his eyes shut. “I wouldn’t call it being alive. I went through Miguel’s report that Yuta gave me.” He clenched his fist tightly.

“You’re right.” You looked out the window. You had asked for the bed to be placed near the window. You hadn’t seen the sun or the stars in two and a half months. “Death would have been merciful. But I think I deserved it.”

“Are you out of your mind!?” Gojo snapped.

“Maybe…” You sighed. “So many people had to suffer because of me. My parents, Nanami, Utahime, some of your men whose name I’ll probably never know, and even you.” A tear slipped from your eye as you spoke. “It was only a matter of time that Karma got to me. Can I ask you a question?”

“Go ahead.” Gojo crosses his arms as he pulls his legs on top of your bed.

“Why did you rescue me from there? For all you knew, I could have been a rat. I could have told them everything I knew. You had no reason to get me out of there.” You look at him.

“No reason? Really? How about rescuing a friend? Is that a good enough reason?” Gojo looked offended. “You may not believe it but all of us here consider you as a part of our group. Shoko, Sukuna… hell, Utahime blamed herself and stepped down from the triad. Megumi wasn’t sleeping properly. Yuji was a mess. Shoko and Sukuna used all their connections to find any information about you. I… I was shocked to learn about you. About Nanami and you. I woke up only to find that I lost two more friends.” He looked you in the eye. “If I didn’t bring you back, Nanami’s sacrifice would have been in vain. If someone knew you, they’d know you’re no rat. And even if you did leak some information, it wouldn’t have mattered. I would have still done anything in my capabilities to bring you back. I made a promise to keep you safe.”

“Gojo…”

“I failed to keep my promise. It was my mistake. I failed to foresee a lot of things.” He grits his teeth. “The SnK will pay. They will pay for every person they’ve taken from the triad. They will pay for Nanami and they will pay for you.” He tries to hold your hand. You flinch a little but you hold his hand. He looks at your fingers and back at you. His eyes looked like a pool of crystal blue. “Fuck…”

You pull your hand back and curl your fingers. Your fingers without nails looked disgusting. You felt like a freak. “They’ll grow back.” You mumble.

“That’s not the point.” He growls. “Who did that to you?”

“It doesn’t matter. There are far too many scars to hold him accountable for.” You shake your head.

“We can get rid of the scars. I know the best doctors who – ”

“No! No… I am not going to get rid of them. I need to remember. I need to.” You insist.

“(Y/N)… You –”

“I have to Gojo. Please.” You plead.

He sighs and nods. “Fine! Fineeee….”

“Gojo…?” You look down this time, hesitant to talk to him.

“Hm?” He raises his eyebrow.

“Do… Do you… have a cigarette?”

“Um… I do… but peach, I don’t think it is a good idea for you to be smoking now.” He reaches out to you. As he places his palm on your cheek, you flinch a little. “I am not going to hurt you.” He strokes your cheek with his thumb.

You nod as you gulp down the lump in your throat. He called you peach. It felt like it was forever ago. “Sorry, it is just an instinctive reaction.”

“Shh… You have nothing to be sorry for. I understand, (Y/N).”

You take a deep breath as you feel fatigued. After all, you were woken up from your sleep.

“I am going to get some rest, Gojo. If that’s fine with you.”

“Of course. You don’t have to ask me… Is it okay if I stayed here for a while?” He pulls his hand away and places it on his lap.

You nod and slide down to lay on your bed. You close your eyes and try to regulate your breathing. As you nod off, you hear Gojo whisper. “I am going to make him pay. I am going to make them pay.”

---------------------------------------

You were able to walk within a week. Your soles had healed enough for you to take small steps and walk around your room. You’d also start wearing your own clothes. You noticed how loose they’d become. They barely fit you anymore.

You looked at your reflection in the mirror. Your eyes still seemed hollow. Dark circles around your eyes were prominent due to the lack of color on your face.  Your hair was a matted mess. You find a pair of scissors in the cabinet beside the mirror. You take the scissors and began to chop off the parts that were heavily damaged and matted. All you could hear was the snipping of the scissors. The cut was uneven but it wasn’t visibly bad.

You were surrounded by the hair when you place the scissors back in the cabinet. You look at all the hair and your heart breaks. You weren’t particularly attached to your hair but seeing so much hair on the floor felt like you cut off your old former self. She was gone. Gone for good. You fall on your knees and cry. You cry as you grab strands of hair on the floor.

“(Y/N)… We have an idea and Shoko approved – (Y/N)…?” You hear Yuji pauses as he sees you on the bathroom floor with the door wide open. He was followed by Megumi, Sukuna and Gojo.

“(Y/N)!!” Gojo rushes to your side and kneels beside you. “Are you okay? Is something hurting? Call Shoko!” He looks at Sukuna.

“N-No… I- I am fine…” You wipe the snot off your nose. “It’s – It’s all gone…” You look at all the hair around you.

Gojo wraps his arms around you. “Hey… Hey… It’ll grow back. It’ll be alright. Don’t worry about it. You look just as beautiful with this length as well.” He grabs a strand of your hair.

“Yeah, (Y/N). This length suits you!!” Yuji approaches you. He pulls a handkerchief out of his pocket and hands it to you.

You take the handkerchief from him and wipe your eyes. You use Gojo as a support to stand up. “I am sorry… that was… stupid.” You sniffle.

“Naah. What was stupid was trying to chop your own hair.” Sukuna rolls his eyes. “We could have just arranged a hairdresser for you, ya know.”

“Sukuna!” Yuji glares at him.

“What?” He growls.

“You’re an idiot.” Yuji shakes his head.

You giggle looking at their banter. Everyone pauses as they notice you giggling.

“That is the first time we heard you giggle ever since you came back,” Gojo explains as confusion reigns over you.

You ignore the statement and compose yourself. It was probably the first time you giggled after Melbourne. When was the last time you smiled? You didn’t know. You compose yourself. “You guys had an idea?”

“Oh yeah!! Since the weather is so nice and everything, we thought that we should have a picnic in the backyard.” Yuji grins.

“A picnic?” You raise your eyebrows

“Yeah… You could use some sunlight…  I mean, when was the last time you were outside?” Sukuna leans against the wall.

“Oh… Okay, what should I do?” You dry your eyes with the kerchief.

“Oh, you’re doing nothing. Just leave it all to Sukuna and me!” Yuji grins. “Come on Sukuna, let’s get things ready!!!” He dashes out of the room.

“I swear to god, this brat treats me more like a butler than a brother,” Sukuna grumbles and follows him.

“Come with me, let’s fix your hair.” You feel Gojo’s hand on your back and you flinch.

“Sorry!” You apologize for your reaction. “You’re a hairdresser now?”

“You’d be surprised with what I can do.” He smiles softly at you. He walks out of the bathroom to grab a stool from the dressing table. He places it in front of you. “Take a seat.”

You sit down as he slowly combs through your hair with his long, slender fingers. Your body trembles involuntarily. Another human touching you without malicious intent felt alien to you. You hear the snipping of the scissors and you jump a little in your seat. You feel his hand rub your back, reassuring you.

“It’s okay. You’re okay now, (Y/N). No one here wants to hurt you.” His voice was warm.

“I know… I know…” You take deep breaths to calm yourself.

In about 20 minutes, Gojo was done. You look at your reflection in the mirror. He’d done a much better job than you had. Everything was evenly cut.

“Thank you.” You smile at him. “For everything. I owe you a lot.”

“Hm? Naah. You don’t.” He messes your hair. “(Y/N)…”

“Yeah?”

“Nothing..” He shakes his head.

“What is it, Gojo?” You knew he wanted to say something.

“Can I…” He clenches his fist… “Can I hug you? You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“O-okay, yeah.. I mean… You can hug me.” You shift awkwardly.

He closes the distance between the two of you as his arms wrap around you. You inhale the familiar scent of his cologne and shampoo. Still tense in his embrace, you feel him relax against you as he pulls you closer to him.

“I am.. I am so sorry, peach. I was an asshole to you when I last saw you. I was unnecessarily mean.” You feel him shiver. Your arms wrap around reaching his back. You stroke his back.

“Satoru… Shh…”

“I was scared… So scared because that bastard almost caught you. For the first time, it felt like someone pulled the rug from under my feet. I understood the gravity of bringing you into my world. I needed to act fast and get you away from all of this. So my fucked up solution was to push you away.” You feel him hug you tighter. “But it was all useless in the end. They got to you. They…” You feel him heaving against you.

“Satoru… listen to me..” You hold on to him. “In the end, it was my choice. I walked into it myself.”

“I don’t know why I was so scared to lose you… I thought you were gone. Like Nanami.” He slowly pulls himself away from you and wipes his eyes with the back of his hand. "It might have been your choice but it could have been avoided had I been better prepared. Had I not been overconfident, I could have.... I would have.... What were you thinking, (Y/N)??? Do you not know what you mean to m- us?? Do you think Yuji would have continued to live the way he was knowing what you had done? The boy was this close to joining the triad to find you. You think Sukuna would be okay with the guilt of letting Naoya get to you?? Or Utahime would be okay with you dying in her place? We told you that you are family. You think I would -" He takes a deep breath to calm himself. "Do you think I would have been okay knowing that I couldn't keep my promise? What do you think would happen to us all if you died, peach???"

“Yuta saved me before that could happen. I am alive. I am here.” You hold his hand. "You came through. You lived up to your promise." You gently squeeze his palm. "I thought dying was an easy way out. But knowing what I know now, I am not ready to die Satoru. I know I belong here, with you... I mean with the triad." You correct yourself.

“Don’t ever do that again.” He squeezes your hand back. “I mean it. I will drag your ass back and lock you in a room. Heck, I nearly wanted to do it this time.”

“Message received, boss.” You chuckle dryly.

He raises your chin gently with his fingertips and places his lips on yours. Your lips part as you savor the warm touch. You remembered this feeling all too well. You felt safe, you felt like you belonged here. You felt at home.

[spencersawkward]

omg I’m so excited you’re on here and taking requests!! do you think you could do something like baby Spence losing his virginity to a close friend & it’s like adorable, goofy, fluffy smut bc he cannot get over the fact that he’s actually having sex with someone

I’VE BEEN WAITIN FOR THIS ONE-- TURN IT UP!!!

on a serious note, i'm so glad you asked for this one bc i really wanna add a scene like this in the fic i'm working on rn. i'm v excited.

summary: when the secret of Spencer's virginity gets accidentally spilled in front of the whole team, reader goes to check on him.

word count: 5.6k

relationship: Fem!Reader/Spencer Reid

content warnings: unprotected penetrative sex, creampie, fluff.

masterlist

hanging out with the team is easily the best part of the week. after spending days in Arizona with our focus entirely on the most recent case, my mind is practically ready to snap. I feel like I've been running on fumes, and when Penelope suggested we take the evening to hit our favorite bar, I was practically already out the door.

so now I'm sandwiched between JJ and Emily as we throw back our first shots of the night. my skin is already flushed with the elation of laughter, the pleasant thrum of conversation that surrounds us.

"that's bitter." JJ makes a face when she slams the empty glass on the table. I screw up my nose.

"why did we pick vodka?" I hate vodka.

"it gets the job done." Emily laughs. I shudder at the aftertaste that sits on my tongue.

Morgan wanders over, Pen on his arm while she totes a brightly colored pink alcohol. they're flirting as usual, but she pauses in her witticisms to grab my arm.

"we're playing truth or shot in that booth over there." she says to me, then gets the attention of the other two women. I let out a disbelieving laugh.

"truth or shot? like truth or dare but without the dare?"

"Reid, is that you?" Morgan says sarcastically. I slug him in the arm with a pout.

"be nice." but I'm giggling. he loops his arm through mine and we head back to the table, Penelope already starting a new conversation with JJ and Prentiss as they follow. Spencer is sitting in the booth with an Arnold Palmer, sipping from the straw like it's his job. I slide into the spot next to him.

"hi, you." I smile. "I haven't seen you at all tonight."

he holds up his glass. "I don't really drink."

"that's fine," I wave it off. "I just meant I wanted to hang out with you."

"oh." he smiles a little. "sorry."

"no big deal. you're here now." I shrug and turn to Pen as she calls my name.

"I'm gonna order a bottle. that okay?" she points to the bar with a mischievous smile. glancing once at Spencer and his slightly awkward position between Morgan and me, I make a snap decision.

"you know what? I think I'll just have a lemonade."

"you sure? Jayge said you spent the whole plane ride back talking about getting wasted--" Penelope's words cause a blush to spread over my face. I cut her off.

"I'm sure. thanks, Penny."

she nods. "of course, sweet cheeks."

I focus back on Reid, who is looking at me gratefully. he would never say it out loud, but I know he feels a little out-of-place sometimes. it's hard enough for him to come out with us to bars; the least I can do is be a sober friend. I open my mouth to start a conversation about an article I read the other day when Prentiss speaks.

"okay, so... who's ready?" her voice, always so certain, carries over the table. all of us make enthusiastic noises of assent, and she grins as Penelope returns with an armful of glasses. Derek gets up to grab the actual alcohol, and then when we're all settled in, the game begins.

"the rules are simple: you tell the truth, or you drink!" the tech analyst explains. the stakes for Spencer and me are lower, but that doesn't really matter. I'm excited to hear the team divulge their secrets.

"I'll start." Prentiss doesn't even hesitate before she looks at Morgan. "Derek, are you still sleeping with that one woman from sex crimes?"

Morgan raises his eyebrows at the question, irises flitting between Emily and the rim of his drink. there's a slight smirk on his face; he knows what a player he is and he's okay with flaunting it.

"Ally? no." he sighs. "things didn't end well between us."

"what? why?" I ask, eyes widening before I look around at everyone. "who is this woman?"

"cool your jets, sparky." Morgan teases me. "only one question per round."

"I'll tell you later." Prentiss raises her drink in my direction and winks.

"uh, no no." Morgan attempts to stop her, but JJ interrupts him.

"speaking of things not ending well," she says loudly. "Pen, why did you and Sam break up?"

"well," Penelope sticks her tongue between her teeth as she thinks it over with a devilish smile. her lips are a ruby red tonight, bright against her pale skin and big eyes. "to be completely honest, he just wasn't... doin' it for me. you know?"

"like--?" Emily glances down at her lap. Pen nods quickly and I snicker. JJ looks awestruck.

"I thought it was going so well."

"it was, but..." Penelope seems to genuinely think this over before she speaks. "if it's right, it just clicks. and it never clicked with Sam."

"profound." I compliment, high-fiving the high-energy blonde. we giggle before she turns to me with a glint in her eye.

"oh, do I have a plan for you," she smirks. "tell me, Y/N: if you had to sleep with one person on our team, who would it be?"

"women included?" I clarify, my cheeks suddenly on fire. how come everyone got easy questions except for me? I'm really just biding time.

"of course." she nudges my shoulder. I mull this over for a minute. I could say the truth, but I don't think that would be the right thing to do. however ironic that is. given the situation, I do something which I have never been good at and which I don't enjoy doing: I lie.

"although all of you are catches," I preface. "I think I would probably pick Emily."

Prentiss almost chokes on her own spit as her head snaps to see my face.

"me?" she asks.

"low-pressure fun." I shrug, the stress of the moment rolling off my shoulders with the ensuing laughter of my team members. Spencer takes a sip of his drink and peeks at me from his spot before I focus my attention to JJ.

we go on like this for a while, our original plan of "truth or drink" really just turning into a game of "truth and drink." as our laughter gets progressively louder, our questions and answers get progressively more provocative. we get into risky territory towards the fourth round, and I can practically feel Spencer's discomfort radiating off of him. thank god everyone has been taking it easier on him with their questions.

that is, until Morgan hits about five shots and decides to throw him to the wolves.

"so, Reid," he asks. there's no malice in his tone and I'm sure he's not meaning to embarrass the boy genius, but the question makes me wince anyways. "have we made any progress on the virginity front?"

it's like a fucking pall over the table. Reid goes rigid in his spot, and JJ's protective eyes dart between him and Morgan. Penelope's jaw drops.

"wait, Reid, you're a--?" her voice is tender, not judgmental, but Spencer's cheeks turn pink and he looks at Derek with a hurt expression.

"not cool." he says, body shifting in my direction. his eyes communicate everything; without a word, I know what he wants. I scoot out of the booth, letting him slip by me to walk outside.

truly, I'm speechless. we all stare at his lanky frame push through the door, but nobody talks until at least fifteen seconds pass.

"what the hell was that, Morgan?" JJ asks.

"I thought everyone knew--" he throws his hands up. "I swear I wouldn't have said anything if--"

"why would everyone know that?" I feel myself get angry for Spencer's sake. "that's an incredibly personal thing, especially to him."

"that wasn't you, my love." Penelope's voice is soft, sobered by the incident that just occurred. the playful air at the table is officially ruined, and we keep glancing at the doorway like Reid will come back in and everything will be fine. he doesn't.

"I'm gonna go apologize." Morgan starts to get up, seemingly beginning to realize the weight of his words. it's one thing to ask about Reid's sex life in general; it's another to point out specifically the entire absence of it. Spencer doesn't seem to be bothered by most things, but this is different. my heart hurts.

we watch Morgan go, the women all looking at each other with worried expressions.

"I feel bad." Penelope says.

"y'know, Spence never told me that." JJ observes.

"he really trusts Morgan." Prentiss says what we're all thinking. Morgan has always been like a big brother to him, and being embarrassed in front of your co-workers like that can't be a pleasant feeling.

we sit in a relative silence for about five minutes until Morgan walks back into the bar. he pulls out his wallet and pays for the drinks, then walks over to us.

"I'm gonna go for a walk. do you need me to call you all cabs?" he asks. those dramatic brows are drawn low over his face, emphasizing his regret. I look between my friends and clear my throat.

"it's okay. I only had one shot about an hour and a half ago. I can drive everyone home."

"okay," Morgan sighs, his head turning briefly to the door before focusing back on us. "drive safe, ladies."

and then he's gone.

"you guys ready?" I start to shrug my jacket on. they all nod and we get ready to go.

...

sitting in my apartment later that night, my head is swimming. even though it's none of my business what happens in Spencer's sex life, I wish I could tell him that it's okay. nobody cares at all if he's a virgin or not. but I know it's still embarrassing.

I hate that I lied earlier tonight, too. I wanted to say Spencer's name when they asked who I wanted, because I meant it. we're close, and I will always love him as a friend. but I've also always wanted more.

nobody, not even any of the other BAU women, know about my crush. I didn't want it to get in the way, or for it to come out and ruin my friendship with Reid. he doesn't like me like that, and that's fine, but what's not fine is not having him as my friend.

he was the first person I really connected with when I came here, and I feel a little protective over him, too.

once the clock hits eleven, I consider calling. he’s definitely not asleep yet. Spencer is a night owl. normally at this time he'd be curled up with a huge book, reading impossibly fast.

when he picks up on the third ring, the air leaves my lungs.

"Y/N?" he asks, more surprised than anything else.

"hey, Spence--" I hesitate, suddenly not sure what to say. sorry Morgan told everyone you're a fucking virgin? “do you wanna come over?"

maybe if I see him face-to-face, I'll be able to collect my thoughts better. the words hang in the air, festering over the line until I'm just about to take them back, before he replies.

"y-yeah. I'll be there in fifteen minutes."

my hands are shaking at my side when I open the door for the tall genius. he's still wearing his outfit from earlier, hair slicked back like normal. I've settled for my usual sweatpants and t-shirt winning combo. it's not like he cares.

"hey." I smile, trying to read his micro expressions. there are two possible outcomes here, knowing him: either he's going to be totally, completely over it, or he'll be able to write a War-and-Peace-length book on why he's upset.

"hi." he gives a wan smile and I let him into my apartment, closing the door behind him and gesturing to the couch.

"I missed this place." he says absently, looking around at the mess of decor and case files. I snort as I recall the last time he was here. he wanted to borrow a book that I had, and we ended up watching an entire docu-series about homing pigeons. it was surprisingly interesting; mostly because his commentary is both informative and funny.

"it missed you." I anthropomorphize my living space, but the phrase hangs heavy. I'm worried about him. I'm always worried about Spencer. he turns to look at me, opening his mouth to say something. I brush past him and walk into the kitchen. "coffee?"

"sure." he follows me like a lost puppy, leaning against the counter while I pull out two mugs and get to work.

"hey," I pause for a moment to look him in the eyes. "I just wanted to say that I'm sorry-- about what happened... tonight."

"oh, that?" he scoffs, waves it off unconvincingly. "it's fine."

I raise my brows the slightest bit, never breaking eye contact. he wouldn’t have come if he didn’t want to talk about it. he cracks easily.

"it's just embarrassing, you know?" he says, staring out my kitchen window to alleviate his own nerves. I gesture for him to follow me back into the living room and I sit down criss-cross applesauce on the couch. he mirrors me, kicking off those cute black Converse.

"I don't think the fact itself is embarrassing, but I totally get why it feels that way. he shouldn't have said anything." I nod.

"like, that's personal. a-and--" he hesitates a moment, gesticulating wildly now. "and it's not like he's got any right! at least I don't go around with so many girls that I forget their names."

the thought of Reid sleeping with that many women is a little bit funny, but it also makes my stomach twist with jealousy.

"did he apologize?"

"yeah, he did. and he was drunk, I know." he rolls his eyes. "I'm overreacting."

"no, really, you're not." without thinking, I scoot closer to him and place my hand over his, which is sitting on his knee. I remember that Spencer is usually pretty averse to touch, but when I move it back to my lap, he seems a little disappointed. I wonder if he gets lonely.

"is it weird?" the question sounds raw, like he's mustering a lot to hear my response. I shake my head immediately.

"well, for one, Spence, I would never judge anyone based on their sex life, period." I chuckle. "and two, no way! if you aren't into having sex at this point in your life-- or ever-- that's totally your choice and you're entitled to it."

his eyes meet mine, pools of honeyed hazel that swim with a slightly amber shade. his face is so pretty, it's sometimes unbelievable to me that he doesn't get more action. bone structure that would make a sculpture envious.

"that's the thing," he licks his lips nervously before averting his gaze again. "I am interested-- I just don't-- well, I don't--"

"don't have someone to do it with?" I suggest with a slight smile. he nods, then clarifies.

"girls don't really seem to be interested in me."

I let out a laugh, unable to contain myself. his head jerks up to frown in confusion. I’m quick to amend myself.

"Spence, that's not true at all. you're such a catch! you're sweet and funny and way smarter than anyone I know. not to mention that you're adorable." I compliment, letting some of the thoughts I've been keeping to myself bubble to the surface. "any girl would be beyond lucky to be with you, sexually or not." Spencer blushes at my words, but the squirming in his spot tells me that it makes him feel warm inside. he smiles a little.

"you think?" it's genuine. he appreciates being praised, and it makes my heart flutter when he gives me that expression like I've made his night.

"I know." more of what I want to say rolls around my mind, unsure of whether or not I should admit it. but I think that right now, it'll only serve to make him feel better. "actually, I should tell you something."

"what?" he's curious now.

"when we were at the bar and Penelope asked who I'd be with... on the team... I lied."

"okay." he nods, somehow not connecting the dots. I guess it doesn't matter if they've got enormous IQs; boys are still clueless.

"I was gonna say you." the truth presses from the inside out, lifting a weight off my chest now that it's out there. even if he doesn't return that feeling, I'm suddenly glad that I told him.

"me?" he gestures to his narrow chest. I nod.

"yeah. I didn't wanna make you uncomfortable or embarrass you in front of our friends." I explain. he breaks into a grin.

"thanks." like I've given him something. I feel myself smiling as well, and then we're just looking at each other. tension that neither of us is willing to break. as much as I'd like to take him right here right now, he hasn't said anything about actually having sex or even about being attracted to me. for all I know, he could be completely indifferent.

"listen, Spence--"

"would you be willing to--" we speak at the same time, both of us stopping and laughing awkwardly.

"sorry, you go first." I offer, and he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth.

"would you want to... um..." he scratches the back of his neck before his eyes meet mine. "try it?"

"sex?" I raise my eyebrows. he nods. I try to find the right response. that’s more assertive than I expected. my pulse is fast, daring me to tell the truth. "I mean-- yes, I would love to-- but are you sure you want it to be with me, Spence? what about a girl that you like?"

"you are a girl that I like." he says this like it's matter-of-fact, like it's obvious. my heart stops in my chest before it starts to hammer.

"really?" a smile makes its way onto my face.

"I thought you knew."

"no." I laugh. my chest is full of sunlight.

"well, you are."

there's a brief silence where I try to get myself back on track. he likes me, too.

"are you sure you want to do this?" I glance at the space between our bodies, which has grown steadily smaller over the course of our conversation. Spencer is watching my every move with an intensity that tells me he's nervous.

"yes." he's unwavering.

"okay, well, you've kissed girls, right?" I inch closer. he nods.

"one."

"oh, Spencer," I sigh contentedly. "I have so much to teach you."

right after I say this, Spencer shifts uncomfortably in his seat. it's only then that I notice his hand covering his lap, the erection that's forming beneath his pants. my eyes flick up to his hungrily.

"sorry." he apologizes.

"don't be." our faces are inches apart and he's practically holding his breath. "I'm gonna kiss you. is that okay?"

"yes." he replies immediately. I place my hands gently on the side of his face, admiring the softness and sharpness of his jaw when I pull him to me, kissing him with a suppressed desire. his mouth is soft against mine, a little anxious to move. after a moment, he starts to relax.

his lips part and I deepen our contact, tilting my head and keeping it mostly mild at first. I don't want to shove my tongue down his throat. our knees are touching and his hand hesitantly finds my waist, the other going to run through my hair. I sigh into him, his fingertips a new sensation that I adore.

Spencer begins to give in a bit more to himself, asserting himself in the kiss and slipping his tongue over my bottom lip. I almost laugh at how quickly he gets the hang of it. he reads my body language effortlessly, not even skipping a beat when I climb into his lap and lace my arms around his neck.

"is this okay?" I pull away momentarily. he nods.

"you're so pretty." an unrelated response, but appreciated nonetheless. I laugh and peck his nose.

"thanks." and then we're back to making out, his hands resting on the small of my back. it's nice. I could stay like this forever, just pressed against Spencer while my fingers thread through his soft hair. he's cautious with me, and it's innocent.

I can feel his boner, can feel from the eagerness of his kisses that he's trying not to bring up the fact that he's literally just throbbing in his pants right now. in order to give him a little of what he wants, I start to rock my hips against his.

Spencer whimpers into my mouth. I stop and look down at him.

"do you want me to stop?"

"no, god, no— never stop." he's mindless in his reply, already grabbing my hips greedily and trying to regain that friction. I shake my head with a chuckle, then resume my actions. he starts to rut up against me, groaning into our embrace while his hands get more adventurous.

I withdraw, breaking the kiss to straighten up. he doesn't stop the microscopic pushes of his hips. I bite back a smile, enjoying the friction, too.

"do you wanna take my clothes off, Spence?" I ask softly.

"y-yes." he replies, gingerly taking the hem of my top and beginning to lift it over my head. when he places it on the couch beside me, his eyes immediately fall to my bra. slender fingers run up my bare waist, his watch glinting in the candlelight. when he doesn't immediately reach to unclasp my bra, I grab his wrist and guide it to the clasps myself. he moves with a surprising ease, unsnapping the thing and grazing over my skin as he slides the straps down my shoulders. I can tell that he’s shaking a tad, but it doesn’t hinder him.

the second that he's discarded the lingerie, he looks up at me with moony eyes.

"can I... kiss you?" he looks at my bare chest. "here?"

"of course, Spence." I nod. he presses his lips to the space between my ribs, drags them up to the valley between my breasts. lingers, then attaches himself to one of my nipples. I sigh, throwing my head back at the way he moves intuitively, sucking and running his tongue over the peak. he squeezes the other breast, plays with the nipple and starts to acquaint himself with the curves of my body.

the whole time, he's straining against my core, rutting helplessly in pleasure. it feels heavenly, with that sweet face of his so devoted to making me feel good, that I nearly stray from the purpose of the experience.

"Spencer..." I breathe. he moans at the sound of his name, then looks up at me from his place sucking on my tits. his teeth graze of my skin and I buck into his lap, causing him to groan appreciatively. my fingers tangle in his soft hair.

"Y/N," he pulls away from my chest, his lips making a soft popping sound. I gaze down at him, a bit lost in the fantasies running through my head. he's a natural. "can we, um-- like, expedite this process a little?"

"expedite the process?” I repeat back to him, giggling at his formality.

"what?" his voice goes up an octave, but he's smiling. "you know what I mean."

"I really do." I lean down, pressing my thumb into his jaw and angling his face up to mine to kiss. while his hands curiously move over my body, I start to push down the waistband of my sweatpants. I break contact just for a moment to peel them off, and he releases a quiet whine. it's cute.

"come back." he says softly, watching as I slide the bottoms down my legs, leaving me in my panties.

"I'm back." I peck his cheek, climb into his lap again. "can we take off your clothes, too?"

"mhmm." he nods. his lips part when my fingers work at the buttons of his shirt, undoing them with a torturous slowness. I can feel his eyes on my face the whole time.

"what?" I chuckle, peeking up at him for a moment before I pull his shirt open and run my palms up his chest, over his shoulders. he nearly shudders at the sheer touch.

"I just can't believe this is actually happening." he smiles in that way of his, like he's suppressing the depth of his emotions, with his brows slightly raised. I take the opportunity to enjoy the sight of him before me, his rapidly rising and falling chest, the smoothness of his skin.

"honestly?" I start to unbutton his pants, and he jerks up into my hand, blushing once he realizes the earnestness of his actions. I smirk encouragingly. "me, neither."

before I pull down his boxers, my eyes flick to his. "is this still okay?"

"Y/N," he groans. "if you don't do something, I'm gonna cum too early." he squeezes his eyes shut for a moment when my hand moves over his clothed erection, like he's holding on. "please."

"sorry." I release him from the confines. it hits his stomach and he waits for my reaction, as if he's afraid that I'll change my mind right now. but I'm definitely not going to. "holy fuck, Spencer."

"what?" he panics slightly, sitting up more. "is it not enough?"

"not enou--" I stutter, almost laugh. "no, it's plenty. I had no idea..."

"oh." he hides the pleased smile on his face, blush spreading over his pretty throat. in the interest of "expediting the process," I wrap my hand around the base of his cock and gently pump him.

Spencer's stomach tenses and he grabs onto the cushion of the couch with a tight fist, sighing.

"mmm..." he doesn't try to word his emotions, but I know. and I like that I'm making him feel this way, sharing this experience. Spencer and I are such close friends, I never thought we'd actually have sex. my assumption was that I'd watch him grow into himself, find a nice girl and treat her like a queen.

but here I am, spitting into my hand before jerking him off to prepare for what’s next. he’s throbbing, sounds coming from his throat.

"I'm gonna sit on it, okay?" I lean down to whisper in his ear. he touches my waist, my neck, kisses a random spot on my chest in the waves of pleasure that I'm giving him.

"o-okay." he mumbles, waiting for me to actually do it. and there's a moment of tense anticipation between both of us, when I sit up and pull my panties to the side. Spencer watches like I'm the only thing in the world, saving the memory of my body on top of his for later.

I run the head of his cock along my entrance, soaking him in the wetness between my thighs. I didn't realize how turned on I'd already gotten, and he lets out a quiet whine when he feels the evidence of how much I want him.

our eyes lock when I sink down. it's a new feeling for him, and the shape of his member as it stretches my walls causes me to bite my lip to withhold moaning too loudly. he whimpers, neck tensing and fingertips digging into my hips.

"o-oh." he sucks in a breath as I reach the halfway point. he's so big, I have to go slow in order not to overwhelm myself. but it feels good, too. like... unbelievably good. I grip onto his shoulders and my head falls forward into his shoulder.

"Spencer, holy shit." I moan.

"does it feel nice?" he asks, concerned for my own pleasure. I feel my chest flutter at the thoughtfulness of the boy wonder even when he's in the midst of losing his virginity, and I lower myself onto the rest of him.

"mhmm," I rest for a moment. "how do you feel?"

"like--" his breath hitches when I begin to rock back and forth on him. "like I've been missing out."

I can't help the giggle that slips past my lips, but then it quickly turns into a longing moan when he starts to thrust up into me like a helpless thing. Spencer is brilliant, but his brain cells go out the window when he throws his head back and begs me to move more.

I nod, raising and lowering myself until we reach a special pace. it's not fast or slow, just the two of us trying to stay in the moment while we hold on tightly to each other. I can feel the cool metal of his watch when he splays his hand out over my spine, the warmth of his breath while he pants against my shoulder.

he hits my g-spot over and over. my moans are torn from my throat by the burning of my lungs. it's like I can't breathe because I'm so focused on chasing the orgasm building in my stomach. and Spencer... I can tell he's almost finished.

the erratic nature of his jerking body tells me.

"I'm gonna cum..." he moans into my neck. "do- do you want me to pull out?"

"no." I arch my back and throw myself into the friction of our bodies. he stares up at me while I ride him, the merciless grinding of my hips because I just can't help myself. "oh my god, Spencer."

he notices how close I am and, in a surprisingly deft move, slides two fingers over my pussy to find my clit. the ensuing noise from me tells him that he's found it, and he begins to rub in quick circles. it's rough and hard, but that's exactly what I need right now.

"cum for me, Spence." I breathe. his free hand grips onto my thigh and pulls me over him, his own words unintelligible within the sounds of absolute pleasure.

"please." he begs for something I don't know, spills his seed inside of my pussy and holds onto me like I'm an anchor to this world while he peers into the next. the feeling of him spreading through my stomach, along with the reckless movements of his limbs and the way he looks at me while he rides out his orgasm, sends me over the edge.

"oh my fuck!" I collapse, grabbing his shoulders tightly and rolling myself down while he removes his fingers from my body. it's jarring, the intensity, like my normal functions can't respond correctly. all I can process is the tightening of my stomach, the pleasure between my legs, vision going slightly fuzzy at the edges. he moans when my cunt flutters around him, the muscles trying desperately to hold him here with me forever. I take deep breaths and slow down, my forehead dropping again while I start to remember my own name.

neither of us speaks. I think I'm still too in shock about what just happened, but in the best way. he keeps running his hands over my skin, then wraps his arms around my torso so that I'm pulled against his chest. I smile, kissing his ear before I finally break the silence.

"hi."

"hi." he's got a satisfied tone.

"do you need anything? water?" I ask, exhausted but realizing that this is still new for Spencer and it's my job to make sure he's as comfortable as possible. he nuzzles his nose into my clavicle and squeezes me tighter.

"stay here with me." there's a slight edge to his words. he's afraid of me leaving. I snuggle down, perfectly happy to remain. heat radiates from his skin, and I like the way it feels.

"of course."

we linger in each other’s arms, both of us coming back into the real world and holding on in an attempt to soften the blow. I just had sex with Spencer.

"thank you." he whispers into my hair.

"for what?" the smile on my face is lazy.

"for doing this."

"well, I really wanted to." I laugh. "so, I guess, thank you, too."

"you're quite welcome." his response is cheerful and then we're both laughing, the sound rumbling from his chest. "can we do it again at some point?"

"I would be happy to." I beam. the contented sigh that leaves his lips, followed by a slight sinking of our bodies down the couch in collective exhaustion, fills me with a joy that's quiet but obvious.

“I’ll last longer next time, I promise.” he says. I can practically hear the blush in his cheeks.

“you did amazing, Spence. don’t worry about it.” I press a few stray kisses to him.

I'll need to go clean up, soon, but it can wait a few more minutes. this is my favorite place on earth.

[sylverstorms]

Cassandra x Maiden----Anonymity

Three months, two days and seven hours.

That is how long you’ve been in Dimitrescu castle for. If rumor is to be believed, you are well on your way to setting the year’s record for longest living maid. Well. ‘Maid’, according to their perception. Your mind always automatically corrects it to something more fitting:

Prisoner.  

You did not choose to work for them. You did not choose to be in this godforsaken place, cleaning crimson stains off the floors, trying to convince yourself the wailing that sometimes reaches your ears is simply the wind. You never would have imagined your life’s end like this, serving wine –no, who are you kidding, it’s too crimson for that— to the Dimitrescus at dinner until one of them snaps and drives the nearest blade into your throat.

Probably Daniela.

It’s not unheard of. And stories of other maids’ murders are plenty.

Daniela has bitten one’s throat off for the crime of addressing her wrongly. Cassandra has left increasingly deep gashes, some of which resulted in deaths, for random offenses, like staring at her for too long. Bela, arguably the more merciful of the three, has snapped necks only when the staff disrespected her sisters’ names, or her mother’s.

You aren’t sure if you want to thank the older maids for this information or yell at them for the nightmares it has caused you. You are lucky to not be in the village, they say –everyone there must already be dead. You are even luckier to have been taken from the dungeon by the Lady herself. It means the daughters don’t know you and the castle is big enough that they may never spare you a glance.

You hadn’t believed it, at first.

Yet in the three months of your stay, you have never come across anyone other than Bela in the sections you were assigned to clean and polish. She passed you by the hallway like she did the decorations and the furniture –and you couldn’t be happier about it. You have caught scarce glimpses of Alcina Dimitrescu, too. Never the other two residents.

Not until the fateful day another maid disappears and the staff’s assigned posts change. You have no say in it and no power to object.

May as well keep my head down and continue to work as carefully as I have. That is the idea. Not to look too much, or think too much, or feel too much. Avoid mistakes because those in the castle are fatal.  

It is a little difficult to remain utterly calm when the sound of swarming insects comes from far behind you, though.

Your blood starts to kick in your veins. Your heart wants to jump out of your chest and make a run for it. You lock your muscles down and summon all the willpower you possess to stay focused on your task.

Please be Bela, please, please, be Bela—

The buzzing dies down. Steps approach you in the otherwise silent hallway. They are too light to be Bela’s. You’re probably screwed, you think, but you keep cleaning the surface in front of you until it’s practically a mirror with how it shines.

The steps halt too close to you for comfort. Out of the corner of your eye, you realize they’ve left bloody imprints on the floor you’ve been polishing for hours now. Dainty, pale fingers are wrapped loosely, almost lazily, around a sickle dripping crimson.    

“Never seen you around, before.” the sound of her voice makes you freeze.

You stop and turn— to face none other than Cassandra Dimitrescu. Her hood is down, brunette waves on point, the dried blood at her chin a terrible contrast to her otherwise attractive face. You… didn’t know she was that pretty, up close.

“I… I have been here for three months. On the opposite wing.” you say. Was I even supposed to reply? You’ll find out soon enough, if your tongue is still attached to your body.

Her eyes give you a quick once-over. “Bela’s been keeping you a secret, huh.” she tsks. Her free hand goes to the handle of the door next to you… and only then do you realize it must be her bedroom. You’re literally assigned to clean the wolf’s den. “Come wake me up when the sun has set, completely.” she emphasizes.

What.

“Uh—”

The crimson-dyed sickle moves until its blade rests underneath your chin, lifting it so your eyes meet hers. From this angle, under the pale lighting of dawn, they look more –stunning— blue than inhuman gold. “No loud sounds. No lights. Got it?”

How can you not, when your life depends on it?

“Yes, my lady.” you reply. You don’t even dare draw breath.

“Good.” In one swift movement, the sickle is gone, the handle turned and she’s already shedding her robe.

You catch a glimpse of a black corset and a narrow waist before you avert your eyes.

The door shuts.

...

Waking Cassandra up can be… tricky, the other maids tell you.

She detests light when she opens her eyes but she also doesn’t want it to be pitch black. You’re not supposed to talk but you can’t shake her, either. Which brings you to the very logical question:

“What the hell am I supposed to do, then?”

To which they have no answer.

They have no answer, you realize with a start… because there’s nobody alive to tell the tale of how to actually wake the brunette sleeping beauty up without simultaneously signing their own death sentence.

The hours pass both too slow and too fast. The sun sets over the horizon.

And you stand, riddled with nerves, outside Cassandra’s room.

A deep inhale later, you turn the handle. The door is left half-open so a bit of light comes in from the hallway. Her bedroom smells like shampoo, bath salts and spices. She must have taken a shower before she went to sleep. You approach the figure tucked under the silken sheets of the queen-sized bed…

Cassandra is lying on her side, one hand underneath her pillow, the other extended loosely towards the edge of the mattress. She probably sleeps naked, at least from the waist up, but thankfully the covers are wrapped around her chest. Their royal red color makes a stark contrast against the paleness of her skin.

Her face is so… serene.

She is a monster and a sadistic killer, yet right there you can’t deny she looks more like a renaissance painting.

Now onto the hard part.

“My lady… the sun has set.” you whisper, kneeled on the floor beside her. No movement comes. “Hey… I’m here to wake you up?” you try again. Still nothing. Shakily, you bring your hand up to the bed. Not daring to touch her, you leave it beside hers, over the covers. “Cassandra?”

She turns her face deeper into her pillow –no, no, you don’t think it’s cute, what’s wrong with you— but at least she’s finally reacting. You call her name one more time.

Her nose scrunches up a little. Long fingers flex –and they touch yours. She’s cold. A pair of blueish ambers blink open to regard you. Not with malice, or with annoyance.

“Good evening.” you speak, unsure of what else to say.

A smirk slowly curves her lips. She looks like a lazy cat pondering whether or not it’s worth it to pounce and that’s not good. It’s not good, not ‘hot’ like your mind suggests. God, you’ve been in this castle so long you are starting to get messed up.

“Mm, breakfast in bed.” she grins and licks her lower lip sexily. Your eyes fly wide open, but her hand is already gripping the front of your black shirt, trapping you there.

How could you ever find this psycho attractive?! you get mad at yourself. Is she hot now that she’s going to kill you?  

But Cassandra only lets out an airy laugh and releases you. You fall backwards on your behind. “Breathe, darling, I’m joking.” She rolls onto her back and seems to wince from it. Her smile vanishes.

“…does… your back hurt?” you ask when you finally find your voice again.

“Ugh, a Lycan landed a hit on me. He’s pieces now, of course, but my muscles still pull.” she says it casually, like it’s a thing that happens.

Silence falls over the room. You take it as your cue to leave. You stand and bow while she’s looking blankly at the ceiling—

But she stops you.

“Wait. Come here.” you don’t like it when she gets that tone, like she came up with something she cannot wait to try. You’re already close to the bed, you’re not sure what she means. Until she pats the spot right next to her. “Don’t make me say it again.”

You won’t. You know what’s good for you.

Hesitantly, you take a seat on the –admittedly very comfortable— mattress. “Yes, lady?”

“Give me a massage.” she says like it’s your job, like she’s the rich woman in a spa and it’s what’s expected. She turns onto her front, bearing her naked back to you and you have less than five seconds to come to terms with the thought of straddling her.

Carefully, you bring your knees on either side of her thighs and pull the sheets so they rest low at her waist. You feel warmer than you should given the temperature of the castle. If she knows the fine teasing line she’s walking, she is loving every inch of it.

Cassandra loves being the center of attention and she loves being pampered, you realize.

It’s probably amusing to her to make you fluster, but this is also an opportunity for you to get on her good graces. She is a dangerous one and it’ll be a great asset for your survival if she’s leaning favorably towards you. Win-win situation. You just have to be good at your job. Like always.

By some miracle of God, you do know how to work the tension out of muscles.

The first time you touch her, you simply rest your hands on her back to warm it. She doesn’t seem to object, from the way lean muscle stretches out under your fingers. Cassandra feels cool, but not hard like marble. Her skin yields under your touch, soft and smooth.

As you apply more pressure to your stokes, she starts to let out little sighs that you have to mute in your mind before they start to affect you. You’ve been high-strung and without sex for too long. Your body all too eagerly intercepts this death-trap as foreplay.

Minutes roll by.

You alternate between all the methods you know. The one that really seems to get her is when you drive your thumb into the knots and end with a little circle.

Cassandra is –God help you— openly moaning every time you press more. It is a bit too much pressure you’re applying though and you don’t know if you’re hurting her and she’s just into it.

“Is this too much…?” you ask. Fuck, why do you sound so breathless?

“No, it’s good.” she husks back.

“Harder?” You don’t know what innocent means, anymore.

Cassandra sends that little smirk again over her shoulder. “Harder.” she replies and the extra flair she puts into it is enough to nearly fry your brain. And other parts of you.

You’re pretty sure you need a cold shower by the time you leave her room.

...

At diner, you hang back in the shadows, gaze downcast.

You do not need to know what the Dimitrescu family is eating, nor what they’re drinking. You do not need to see Cassandra or risk catching Daniela’s gaze. You love your anonymity in the castle. It has kept you alive.

But it is shattered like frail glass when you bring another bottle of Sanguis Virginis to the table. You’ve almost retreated back to your place, when Daniela’s eyes zero in on you.

“She’s the human!” she exclaims like she’s made the world’s most startling discovery. Bela seems to understand, but the Lady and Cassandra frown over their glasses.

“I am almost afraid to ask, love.” Lady Alcina says…

And she’s right.

“The one who made Cassandra go ‘harder’ and ‘yes, yes!’ earlier this evening.” she impersonates in her sluttiest voice and then breaks into a fit of cackles. Bela’s lip twists into a withheld chuckle.

Lady Dimitrescu nearly chokes on her wine.

Cassandra slaps the back of Daniela’s head. “You’re such an idiot.”

“Girls.” Alcina warns and glares until the table calms again.

Then, her eyes curiously fall upon you.

So much for your anonymity.

Ko-Fi

[okay-klepto]

I just need to get my horny thoughts about August Walker out

we all know this is going to be nsfw, and idk how long this will be, so everything will be under the cut. Also, probably none of this is close to original thought. I'm just sick of this stuff being suck in my head all day.

Spoiler: it's angry!August, jealous!August, possessive!August, like-to-play-with-your-pussy-whenever-he-wants!August, torturous!August (then maybe a little bit of semi-soft!August)

so

It's a given that August is the one who is going to be in control in the bedroom, but I think about how that actually manifests.

The first option is that it comes out in the form of hard, rough sex. This is very August to me, but only after an incident, and there are two types of "incidents" that occur the most often

He's frustrated from work. Where it's just a day when no one did or said anything of value or coming home from a long, hard mission, he needs a way to let off steam. And you're perfect for doing that. When he does get back he wants things to happen pretty much right away. Sure, he can maybe wait until after dinner, but he'd prefer to blend you over the dining table and give you a good fucking right there. And you can always tell when he's gonna want it rough. He's quiet and pushes just a little. He's not worried about being neat, and he doesn't care about whether clothes are still half on or not. Once you're both exposed enough to get the deed done, he's in full force. No amount of crying and moaning is going to stop him from plowing you deep into whichever surface was closest (tho he does prefer the bed). He's rough and grunts and hold you hard enough to leave dark red marks on your skin. There are very few words spoken, most often the occasional "fuck" grunted out through gritted teeth. Sometimes he cums instead; sometimes he doesn't. Once everything is done, he has usually calmed down enough for you to cuddle up next to him and ask about his day. His head is clear enough by then that he can vent to you about how stupid he thinks his coworkers are or how much a shitshow a mission was.

He's jealous. You CANNOT tell me that August isn't the jealous and possessive type. What's his is his and he isn't sharing (sharing is for a different post). So I can just picture August catching you talking to some other man and he's making you smile more than August would like, or he catches too many wandering eyes while you're out and about on a date. Or those comments you get on the photos you post online. It makes his blood boil. He tries to keep his cool until you're in a private place or back home, but he'd really love to just sucker punch those assholes in the nose. He tries to not think about it too much, but those feelings are hard for him to repress. That angry sex starts in a similar way as the previous, but he typically waits until you're both in the bedroom. Rough kisses to start, and he is more likely to strip you all the way down. He goes just as hard, but he's more vocal. He tells and shows you that you are his. He reminds you who you belong to. He tells you that he's never gonna let another man come near you. He emphasized each of his points by slamming into you over and over again, teeth gritted and brow furrowed the entire time. He cums inside of you every time. He leaves more marks, too, and tries to put them in the most obvious spots in case someone tries to take a look at you again. There are more cuddles afterward, too - more kisses and rubs and whispers of sweet nothings.

The second option is that it comes out in torture. Torture with a side of dependency.

See, we know August has an animalistic side. He likes the hunt. He likes being a predator and you're the perfect prey. He likes knowing that you are at his disposal. He likes to stalk you around the house, watching your every move before deciding when to pounce. This could be as simple as being able to come up behind you and put his hand down your panties whenever he wants to. He likes what you squirm as he plays with your pussy just for s minute. He likes making you a little wet before leaving you with no way to help yourself. He likes giving you deep kissing and putting his tongue in your mouth before going out. He likes whispering filthy things in your ear while you're out in public. Anything to get you a little excited. He likes that you're his. But you give him some playing back, and that drives him nuts.

And then there's when he dedicates some time to put his fingers instead of you just to make you cry. For you, coming is not an option at these times. He's sitting on the bed and you're kneeling on the bend over his lap, hands gripping his shoulders as he plays with your pussy. He likes to watch your face twist and relax as he moves his fingers in and out of you. He likes that he can make you whimper and whine with such simple actions. He likes getting you against a wall and your panties around your knees. He likes telling you dirty things in a way that sounds so sweet. He especially likes stopping right before you're going to climax because you always whine about it. He likes to know that he is the only means you have to finish.

And there's when he ties you to the bed and really goes in on you. The more toys the better. He'll strap your wrists (and sometimes) ankles to the bed so you can be perfectly spread out. You're completely nude while August wears nice pants and a dress shirt. He loves putting things inside of you: big things, little things, things that vibrate, things with texture. He does so slowly and thoughtfully, always feeling a careful eye on your face to watch how you react. Sometimes he'll give you a little bit of love by using his mouth on your pussy, but that's only if you are really crying. And oh he loves to hear you cry. He loves the tears that single you have given up - that you have nothing left. He knows then that you are completely bare. But he also loves the tears you shed out of fear. Knives are his favorite tool. He usually uses a big one with a sharp tip, and he runs it over your skin, leaving a little red trail. He never pushes hard enough to draw blood, but he does know exactly how much force to give it to make you think it will break your skin. He likes how your body tenses whenever you get scared, and he likes how your voice shakes when he runs the tip of his knife over your sensitive areas. You may think that August wouldn't let you come, but that isn't the whole truth. He does deny you orgasm over and over, but then he forces them out. He goes in on your hard with toys and doesn't let up until your a writhing on the bed. Then he does it a little longer. He shows you he is in control over everything about you.

August's favorite part is when that's all done. Who do you go to have he's done making you his little plaything? Him. You go back to him. Why? Because you are dependent on him. He is your everything. August is just as happy fucking you with a dildo as he is kissing your cheeks as you all asleep. He loves to slowly pull you apart and he loves to put you back together because it means he'll get to do it all over again

all done

[gwynrielsupremacist]

A COURT OF LIGHT AND SHADOWS

Chapter 2: Reason

Read it at AO3

Masterlist

If it were up to Azriel, right now he would rather be juggling burning knives.

Blindfolded.

And in a dark room.

They were in the huge alcove of the High Lord of the Night Court, as Rhysand removed shirts and jackets from his dressing room that he claimed were appropriate for Cassian's attire at his ceremony.

Although Azriel, sitting in one of the chairs that were nearby, watching the scene with his chin on his hands, he was rethinking why he thought this would be a good idea.

After the 'incident' with Elain and Rhys, he had made up his mind that he would never think of Elain that way again.

Of course, that was rather difficult when she was always where the Spymaster passed.

Was he going to the kitchen? Elain would be there with Nuala and Cerridwen.

Was he going to the living room? Elain would be there with Feyre and Nyx.

Possibly one day he would find her in his bed, wearing lingerie, as a gift just for hia enjoyment, tearing off the tiny pieces of undergarments and-

"Azriel?" The sound of his name brought him out of his trance. "Have you been paying attention to something I've said in the last 20 minutes?" 

He knew that his shadows, moving slowly over his neck, covered any variation of his arousal but, just in case, he watched Rhysand's reaction, knowing if he knew the reason for his daydreaming, he would be enraged.

However, Rhys's face revealed absolutely nothing, only joy for his brother and bewilderment on the part of the Shadowsinger.

Usually Azriel was the one who had to warn his brothers to pay attention to him, not the other way around.

He shook his head to Cassian's question, to which he sighed, visibly tired and irritated: "I was wondering if navy would look better than black, but I have no idea what Nesta would like." He muttered. Apparently having a mating ceremony wasn't all the color of roses. "I'll stick with the black one, I  don't think the suit will last long after we go to that cabin." He announced as he and Rhys gave each other knowing glances, grinning mischievously.

That was another arrow to his badly wounded heart.

He was happy for his brothers, of course he was.  There was no other male who deserved a mate as much as Rhys and Cassian, but ...

What about him?

Azriel stopped intervening in the conversation at that moment. He usually did not want to participate in those conversations, but it seemed that that day he was the worst of all.

"The worst day will be the mating ceremony, Shadowsinger. You must prepare for that day if you do not want to fall from grace" Recommended their shadows.

It was true. There would be no worse day than the ceremony.

With Rhys's ceremony it had been the same. As soon as the ceremony was over, he had to go to a Sex club to get rid of the arousal and despair that he felt throughout his body.

It was not fair. Was the Cauldron so macabre?

Had he done so much harm to the world that they deprived him of the experience of having a mate?

He swallowed silently, keeping his face mask neutral, no emotion leaving his face.

He thanked whoever had given him that ability, it was fucking useful at times like these.

Three hours later, Cassian ended up deciding what costume to wear, the black one, and the conversation between the commander and the High Lord died as well.

Cassian left, muttering that he had forgotten something in the House of Wind, although it was possibly an excuse.

The atmosphere in the room had quickly become charged, before the challenging stares of those two.

Although Azriel supposed that he should stay away from the House as well, since he did not need his shadows to tell him that it had served him with a double purpose, he was probably going to fuck Nesta until they both could not hold on foot.

Azriel started to get up, but was prevented by a force in his chest from Rhysand.

"Maybe he had found out about my scent change, after all." He guessed, preparing his best poker face for the onslaught the High Lord was going to bring him.

They stared at each other, studying possible reactions, waiting for who was the first to speak.  Things had gotten tense on their part since Solstice.

Azriel knew, as did Rhysand, that no matter how much he wanted to possess Elain's body, he would never betray Rhysand. Punch him, maybe.  But he will never betray his High Lord.

"I notice you are somewhat distracted, Azriel."  The High Lord commented, sitting down on a chair and intertwining his fingers, dropping them into his lap. "I hope there were no overnight escapades on either side." Rhysand knew perfectly well what he was talking about.

Like Azriel.

"None. I did what you asked." He secured, leaning back, with the advantage that the High Lord didn't know that in reality, his thoughts were a hell of 'wills and cannot'.

Rhysand nodded slightly, rising from his chair, to which Azriel copied the movement.

Azriel knew he shouldn't be fooling around when Rhysand was in that mode, but he couldn't help but feel like a hypocrite.

"You took Feyre away from Tamlin when she still thought she loved him. Elain doesn't love Lucien, yet you separate her from me." Azriel thought. He knew those thoughts didn't make any sense, but right now he was the only thing he could think about.

His shadows were scattered around the room, ready to attack if something happened to his master, while some were on his shoulders, caressing the area in tension.

"I want to keep it that way." Rhysand emphasized, walking ahead of him, silently asking him to follow. He did it. "Things are going bad, Azriel, I don't need any more trouble than is inevitable."

"What problems?" This one answered. "According to my spies, Koschei hasn't shown any signs of life, so I don't see what a problem there could be."

"That Koschei is not showing signs of life does not mean that he is not operating in secret." He suggested, walking into the nursery, with Nyx in the crib, sleeping peacefully.

The High Lord's face changed dramatically.

It was no longer the face of the most powerful High Lord in history. It was the face of a father watching a son, with awe and love in it.

"I can't bear that my son has to spend his early years with that bastard of Koschei in the middle."

"We will protect it." Azriel confirmed, also looking at the small bundle wrapped in sheets. "I will protect him with my own life, if necessary."

Rhysand looked into his eyes, and in a pleading voice, he said:

"Do you understand then? Why I ask you to separate from Elain?" As much as he hated doing that, he nodded. "I cannot allow jealousy and desires to be put through the protection of the court. Things are bad enough to make them worse."

As much as it was hard to keep his gaze neutral, he continued to nod, but anger crept through his mind, clouding his reason.

"And how much trouble would Elain and I have?"

Rhysand was silent for a moment. Azriel guessed

he was steadying himself so as not to punch him in front of his son's bed. Instead of doing so, he asked:

"I don't want you to avoid the question. You are not going to avoid the question." The High Lord manifested. "What the hell happened with Mor, Az?

That theme again.

"Why whenever we talk about Elain, do you end up talking about Mor?" The Spymaster snarled, the shadows preparing to attack, noting the tension in the environment.

"I do it because you have completely forgotten Mor, Azriel. You have been in love with her for over 500 years." He remembered. "I can't believe you traded Mor for Elain in so little time."

"And why do you fucking care?" He growled again, backing away from the room for fear of waking the boy.

"Mor is my cousin, Azriel, and I think I deserve an explanation. Have you given up? And now I suppose Elain will be the consolation prize, right?

It took Azriel more of the self-control he possessed not to slam his fist into the High Lord's nose. If he hadn't been his superior, Rhysand would be bleeding badly right now.

"Elain will never be a consolation prize." He barked, leaving the house and spreading his wings to fly up, but was interrupted by Rhys's hand on his arm, an anchor holding him to the ground.

"Give me a reason."  He started to say. "Tell me one fucking reason why Elain deserves to be your mate, and not Lucien's."

"Are you comparing me to… to that one?" He murmured in a voice icy and deadly, the voice that sent chills to the poor people who had to listen to it. Rhysand didn't even flinch.

"You are both different and equal at the same time." He evaded, then returning to the initial question. "Give me a logical reason, and I will allow Elain to stay with you."

Baring his teeth at him, Azriel leapt, taking flight and away from those feelings, roaring with rage when he realized that he had not a single reason to be worthy of Elain.

TAG LIST: @bookish-isha @imsointobooks @shisingh @feyretale @niaacotar @flora-shadowshine @tealnymph24 @trashforazriel @hlizr50 @meher-sumedha @heyovivi @positivewitch @greywarens-magician @sageofthegalaxy @valkygwyn @verifiefangirl @verifiefangirl-mainblog @snickerdoodlechittybangbang @genya-berdara @katekatpattywack @ddsworldofbooks @secretlovelybeauty @starbornsinger @sv0430

[cobaincreates]

smart decisions

warnings: drinking, angst, smut, fingering, nsfw, 18+

count: 10k+

hiiiiiiiii so i’m a horndog & i can’t get enough of rafe cameron (or drew) or college rafe & i also wanna cry over them so here you go. let me know whatcha thinkin’. please i’m begging you. 

also the photo isn’t mine i got it from here!

songs i imagined - this one & this one

— — —

transferring colleges had to have been your smartest decision to date. going from putting your strengths into a place that was not willing to acknowledge them to, now, receiving credit where credit was most deservingly due. your first choice for school had been some place close to home, you figured why not opt for the cheaper option to save yourself, and your parents, a little money. you spent a few months getting into the swing of things, heading to class each day with a fresh mind and hopeful thoughts. it wasn’t until six months in that you realized you deserved so much better, and at a better school.

it took time, figuring out your best bet and where to go and all the finances. you definitely grew impatient a year in, trying to stick it out at home to receive your credits. but once the moment arrived, you packed all your things and moved states away. you loved it; you loved the classes, you loved your friends, you loved your professors. you were completely happy with your choice to go. your parents might not have been, but the weekly calls home for your progress report were substitute enough.

wednesday, 5 p.m.

you scribbled a doodle you had been going over and over, darkening the lines so much you saw it behind your eyelids now. you snapped out of it and looked back at your textbook.

the library was so quiet, you heard pages being turned from every corner, the chewing of gum from a tense jaw, and the soft snores of someone passed out in one of the private cubicles across the way. none of those things distracted you really since you had come to the study session with a couple of your friends, all three of you making a pact to get shit done.

melly was able to listen to music while she studied and was more of a typer as her fingers moved fast along the keys of her laptop. she came dressed in her comfiest clothes, sporting a knit sweater and joggers. lina had snacks across the table to keep her sustained. she was a strong believer that she learned better while being fed. it made you laugh still. she was a writer like you, very organized in her notes with highlighters and different colored pens. she even drew headers for each page for the hell of it. you wondered where she got the drive. then there was you, black ink, the main topic underlined, things to remember written repeatedly. you learned better after writing things down, you couldn’t just read a book and have the information implanted in your brain. as much as you wished it were that easy.

you were studying for an upcoming psychology test, one that you were sure would be a piece of cake given how well you did in the class itself. it was one you didn’t plan on taking, but you needed another course to get enough credits for the year.

lina was munching on some almonds, turning a page in her notebook, and picking up a blue pen. you were in the middle of writing a definition down and filling up the last of the page, your hand starting to cramp with how much pressure you were using. you flexed it once you put your pen down and squeezed an imaginary ball.

both yours and lina’s eyes flicked up to melly across the table who let out a low moan. she was pulling her headphones off and looking in the completely opposite direction of her computer.

“why is he so fine?” she asked, low enough for the two of you to hear.

you looked over your shoulder at the same time lina did and searched in the general area melly was focused on. all you saw was a guy walking through the library, sporting a backpack and a lacrosse sweatshirt, the hood pulled over his head.

“he really knows what he’s doing, huh?” lina said dreamily.

you furrowed your eyebrows as you watched him turn into a row of books and you glanced at melly as you faced the other way, planning on getting back to your work. melly was dazed as she still looked in his direction.

“who is that?” you asked after a moment of both of them still ogling.

lina turned toward you as melly closed her laptop a little to lean over it. “what did you just say?”

you looked between the two identical shocked expressions and laughed helplessly. “who is that?”

“oh, i forgot. you’re still new.” melly nodded in semi-acceptance then became serious. “that’s rafe cameron. he’s on the lacrosse team and we’re kind of obsessed with him.”

“it’s alarming,” lina said. she gave a quick glance over her shoulder then looked back at her notebook. “i love making myself sad over him not noticing me, but it’s fine. what’s even more alarming is how he’s still single.”

“i cannot express to you, y/n, how good,” melly emphasized, squeezing her eyes shut, “he looks with a little sweat.”

“you guys sound like stalkers.” you pointed out, smiling a little at their explanations.

“i’m not denying it. i said it was alarming.” lina shrugged as she looked from her textbook to her writing. “we’ve talked to him a couple of times at some parties, he’s a super nice guy but we just find him attractive. i think if i were a freshman, i’d be pathetically pining after him.”

melly hummed in agreement, her chin now propped in her palm. she wore a doe-like look, gazing between yours and lina’s heads and into the bookshelves. “don’t they have a game tomorrow? we should go.”

“it’s away.” lina said, but you had already lost interest in the topic and started reading a new chapter. you picked your pen back up, the muscles in your hand now relaxed, and the boy in the bookshelves out of your mind.

monday, 9 a.m.

you were going to be late and you hated the thought. there was no way you could miss this test when you had done nothing but study every last page for it. you even lost track of how many pages of notes you wrote for the test alone. it would be such a waste to miss it and it wasn’t worth getting a negative grade.

being late was not at all your fault. you had set your alarm early, eaten breakfast and read a few more chapters to get ahead, and packed your bag up so you’d be ready after a quick shower. turned out that all the showers on your floor were broken, the yellow “do not cross” tape like a bad omen. you started muttering to yourself as you carried along your shower caddy, going down to the next floor and finding a line to wait in. you knew it was probably your best bet instead of racing to another floor to check if there were more lines, plus you didn’t know how much time you had. you probably annoyed some people with the fidgeting, but all you could think about was the test.

it was ridiculous how long the showers took and how you had to leave your hair damp as you ran back up physical stairs. you burst through your door, threw your bathroom things on your bed, grabbed your bag and the few books you couldn’t stuff in. while leaving, the door shutting behind you, you made do with damp hair, twisting it up and out of your face. as you checked the time, you figured out that you had eight minutes exactly to get across campus and in your seat with a writing utensil ready.

even though you were late, you still held doors open for people, and you dodged others walking the opposite direction instead of the other way around. you kept checking the time as if the minutes would stop moving.

just as you were looking into your bag, your legs moving fast and assuredly, you ran right into something hard. you dropped the textbooks that you had been clutching, even with a death grip on them, and your bag slipped from your shoulder. a notebook poked out along with a pen rolling away on the walkway.

“woah,” the hard surface said.

“i’m so sorry, i was not looking.” you said quickly and bent down to get your things. of course, this would happen while you were in a rush. you supposed you were lucky it didn’t involve cars. god, that would’ve been so much worse.

“nah, it’s alright.” they said easily and bent down beside you, retrieving your things.

you scrambled for everything and shoved the notebook back into your bag. you spotted your keychain near their foot, their fingers closing around it before you could reach for it. you finally looked up as they held the key out to you, the ring hanging from their finger.

rafe cameron.

he looked different now that you could see his face better. and also, because he was so close this time. it was odd to know now that he had blue eyes and a light ghosting of stubble along his jaw and cheeks. it felt too personal being this close to someone you only knew the name of.

you felt a little silly for bumping into him, but you didn’t let it show. “thank you,” you said as you took the key from him and stood quickly to walk away. lina and melly surely wouldn’t give this up when you told them.

rafe had watched after you for a moment before turning back to his friend topper, raising his eyebrows in reference to what happened, and continuing their conversation.

you made it to class about three minutes late and sat in your seat, finally taking a breath. you settled in, putting your things at your feet, and digging around for a pen. all thoughts of bumping into rafe cameron left your mind.

8 p.m.

“you what?” melly coughed violently as she composed herself. lina was clutching her stomach, nearly dying of hysterics when the drink came out of melly’s nose a second earlier.

you held your head in your hands and inwardly groaned at having to tell the story. you were out to dinner with the two girls, munching on french fries and milkshakes. it was typical for you three to hang out on mondays since melly usually had a bad case of them each week. you had innocently slipped in that you just so happened to run into rafe cameron this morning and well, you hadn’t expected that to be melly’s reaction.

“i ran into him. i was late this morning and i wasn’t looking.” you could feel the embarrassment settle in as you recounted the minor event, at least to you.

“did he say anything?” her eyes were blown wide as she leaned across the table.

“i didn’t try to have a conversation with him.” you shrugged and picked at the plate of fries at the center of the table. melly gave you a look of mild bewilderment, the shock of it wearing off.

“missed opportunity.” lina joked, taking a long sip of her shake. “i wouldn’t know what to say either if i ran into him.”

you felt your shoulders loosen as the topic was slowly changing. melly laughed at lina’s remark, teasing her that she would’ve frozen up from bumping into anybody. you smiled and were glad that both of them didn’t take the story too seriously.

minutes later you were laughing loudly, head thrown back as melly was telling a story about her family and a public mishap with a tire. it was interesting to you to hear about what it was like growing up in a completely different environment than the one you did. you supposed that’s something you loved about college; getting to meet people from so many other states and cities.

you were smiling to yourself as you dipped a fry into your shake. just as you put it into your mouth and looked across the table at melly, her composure changed.

“oh, fuck.” she whispered and noticeably tried to look away. “don’t look.”

both you and lina turned around to look toward the front door. a dense group of bodies was coming in through the door, the atmosphere’s volume increasing with their chatter. toward the back you recognized rafe cameron. you weren’t sure at all what it was that made your heart clench in your chest.

“i said don’t look!” melly whispered louder. “oh, god. okay. act normal.” melly straightened up, trying not to be obvious with looking in their direction. you laughed and sat back in the seat. lina practically sunk into hers.

you didn’t watch as they approached, but you did look up once rafe entered your peripheral vision. he was with the guy from this morning, even if you hadn’t noticed him before. you just remembered rafe crouched in front of you while someone just as tall stood behind him, waiting. both of them were sporting lacrosse sweatshirts, along with some others in the group.

“hey, rafe.” melly said easily like she hadn’t just been freaking out over him a second ago.

you watched rafe lift his chin, smiling genuinely at her. you didn’t think anything of it when he glanced at you, the recognition so obvious as his face changed. he continued to walk to his table though, eyes steady on you for what felt like too long.

melly turned around and sank over the table, her mouth open in shock. “oh my god,” she said above the surface.

“oh my god,” lina said, turning to you in bafflement. “i feel like i’m in an alternate universe. did that just happen?”

“he just recognized me.” you brushed it off.

“no, y/n, he knew you. that was longer than five seconds.”

“why are you guys so obsessed with him anyways?” you laughed, trying to take the attention off you.

lina shrugged, seeming taken aback with the question. “i don’t really know.”

“because he’s gorgeous, that’s why.” melly intervened, dipping a fry into her shake.

you looked over melly’s shoulder, wondering what it was exactly that was so intriguing about the lacrosse player. you had had your fair share of athletes and could agree on some being drop dead gorgeous. maybe rafe cameron was just a nice guy all around and melly and lina just had pleasant interactions with him. maybe he was the type of college boy that looked out for everyone’s wellbeing and that’s what made your friends obsess over him. it could be a number of things.

thursday, 8 p.m.

you rubbed your eyes, yawning in the middle of it, and lay back on your bed. you had just closed your computer after typing up a 10-page essay. it was nine when you started it this morning. you were just glad your one class of the day was canceled and that you had time to write the paper before next week. plus, there were no classes tomorrow, and you could have a whole day of doing nothing. you were stoked, to say the least.

feeling a vibration beside you, you reached for your phone and opened a text from lina. incoming in 5, it said, followed by a rattling of knocks on your door. you rolled off the bed and shuffled over, finding her and melly with wide smiles. it was infectious as you felt your own smile appearing on your face.

“what are you guys doing here?” you asked curiously, stepping aside to let them in. the door clicked softly shut as you followed melly to your bed where she went to sit. lina leaned against the wall across from you, careful of your roommate’s things.

“we were invited to a party and we were wondering if you wanted to come with.” lina said, sharing a quick look with melly.

you glanced between them, eyes narrowing. “what’s so special about this party?”

“god, how can you even tell that?” melly asked, slightly rolling her eyes.

“you guys have known each other longer than i've known either of you, but you’re easy to read.” you laughed.

“i don’t like that.” melly said quietly to herself.

you grinned at her, noting her curls springing around her face. melly usually had her hair pulled back out of the way and it was very rare to see her with a different hairstyle. there had been some days where she had braids and you enjoyed seeing the change of pace. lina on the other hand always let her hair down. tonight though, she had straightened it and thrown it into a high ponytail. you hadn’t really gone to a lot of parties with the girls, so seeing them all done-up was always fascinating.

“seriously, what’s the deal?” you asked again, looking to lina since she was the one who had proposed the idea.

she shared another look with melly again before finally coming out with it. “it’s at rafe cameron’s apartment.”

you felt that clenching again in your chest, in that same spot from last night. you swallowed, feeling how dry your mouth was in the span of three seconds.

“well, it’s his and topper’s apartment, so not technically just his.” lina said, waving her hand in enunciation. she crossed her arms. “i have this study group with topper and he invited me and mel and anyone else really.”

“come on, it’ll be fun.” melly said, nudging your arm.

you looked at the girl beside you, ready to say no mostly in panic of seeing rafe. you had nothing to worry about or freak out over, but it was a scary thought. so many things happened at parties. so many things could happen.

“okay,” you said easily.

the prior fears dissipated quickly as lina and melly gave a small cheer and encouraged you to get ready, and to take your time. you spent the next ten minutes asking them what you should wear, going through your side of the closet. all three of you agreed on a plaid skirt you had bought a few weeks before on a spontaneous shopping trip. you only wore it once since then and had been meaning to pull it out again. you paired it with a sweater, something easy to keep you warm through the night instead of bringing a jacket along. lina and melly agreed excitedly when you changed and raised your eyebrows, searching for approval.

9 p.m.

holding on tightly to lina’s hand, you laughed hysterically to the point of tears and a clear indicator in the nether region that you had to pee, badly. a connie bailey rae cover was playing from a speaker near you, your laughter probably not as loud as you thought it to be as you calmed down. melly stopped her ridiculous reenactment and pulled an exaggerated disgusted face as she dodged someone trying to dance with her. you shook with laughter and took a long sip of your drink, tilting your head back to finish it in one gulp.

the party had been way more fun than you thought it would be, especially when you walked the four blocks to get there. lucky for you, you had been smart and worn flat boots. the apartment was a good size for the event and had plenty of space to gather, enough left over for those that wanted a break from either dancing or just to relax. some people you didn’t recognize had the large tv on, a video game on the bright screen. there was plenty of shouting coming from their general direction, a wave of arms and pointing of rigid fingers.

you had seen rafe in passing, but never made the initial eye contact as if to let each other know that you were near. stepping into the apartment and being greeted with his friend topper, you felt like you were intruding or trespassing by being in rafe’s space. you didn’t know him, or topper for that matter, and it felt odd to you to be in their physical home.

“where’s the bathroom?” you asked lina as melly went to get more snacks.

lina stood up on her toes and pointed at a closed door. “i'm pretty positive it’s over there.”

you gave her a nod and walked in the direction she pointed you in, finding a couple people waiting against the wall. you took a place there and acted as a fly on the wall for a total of five minutes since the line went fast. once inside, you took a deep breath, feeling refreshed at the open window and the cool air coming in.

you dried your hands and placed the towel back where it was on the counter and opened the door. the next person waiting rushed in rather quickly, making you stumble against the doorway. you laughed to yourself and felt the rush of sudden wind as the door slammed.

excusing yourself past a small group, you headed toward the refreshments. you were already thirsty after having emptied your bladder seconds before, but you were aware it was just the addictive alcohol buzzing through your system. it was crowded closer to the drinks, rightfully so, and it only took one person to move for you to see rafe acting as a stand-in bartender.

part of you wanted to run right back out of the kitchen and find lina and melly, but the other part of you wanted to give a swift kick to your rear. you chose the latter and walked over to where he was at the counter. he was in the middle of pouring someone else’s drink and you stood on his other side, taking in his appearance while you still could. the blue hat on his head read “obx”, turned backwards. he wore an off-white t-shirt, the graphic design on the back drawing you in. you were too busy staring at his shoulders molded with the fabric to realize he had turned around and you were now staring at his chest. you blinked up at his face, smiling lightly.

“hi.” he said, a small lilt to his voice as he recognized you once again.

“hi.”

“can i get you something?” he asked, and you felt your shoulders falter a little, thinking that was all he was going to say to you. stick to his image of drink tender and have you go on your way. but his body told you differently as he turned fully to face you.

“um, i can get it.” you said, the instant flight taking effect at the very prospect of being shot down.

rafe nodded and stepped out of the way, moving further into the corner of the counter. you smiled at him and poured your own drink, mixing up your favorite. rafe still stood there and you could feel the strong vice his eyes had on you. it made you a little self-conscious, but you relaxed with a deep breath.

“i never got your name.” rafe said just as you took a sip and turned to leave the kitchen. “you know, from the other day.”

“that’s because i was too busy bumping into you.” you let out a small laugh and stepped closer to him, out of the way if someone wanted a drink. you turned your back to the fridge and tried to find a spot to lean on as rafe looked down at you, a smile playing at his lips. “i am sorry about that again. i was in a rush for a class.”

“it’s no problem. i’m just glad you’re okay, we hit pretty hard.”

“y/n.” you said and held out a hand respectfully.

“rafe,” he slipped his hand into yours, warm and strong, and smiled widely.

“i think i’ve heard your name only a million times in the past week.” you admitted, knowing that lina and melly would kill for brownie points. “my friends are a bit obsessed with you and fully willing to educate the newbie.”

“obsessed, huh? lina and mel, right?”

you nodded and took another sip. rafe reached on the counter and grabbed a handful of pretzels. he held some out to you. “they’re nice girls,” rafe said easily. “i’ve hung out with them a couple times, but i didn’t know they were obsessed.” he laughed to himself.

you munched on a pretzel and froze at an idea. “you’re not going to tell them i told you, are you?”

“not unless you want me to.”

you stared at him for a bit longer than you planned, then let out a breath and took another pretzel from his hand. it was odd to be sharing food with him when just the other day you felt like your heart was tearing in your chest. at the moment, you could only feel a dull ache.

“so, how do you like it?” rafe asked.

“like what?”

“campus, the college.”

you nodded and swallowed some of your drink to wash the pretzels down. “things have been really great. i enjoy it here. it’s an immense difference than my first college back home, so i’m happy.”

rafe smiled. “and the party?”

you followed his nod to the people around you, glancing to your original spot where you left lina. you didn’t see her anywhere until some people moved and you found her and melly sat on the couch. they were playing the video game with a whole mess of guys. you grinned.

“the party is great.” you commended, looking back at him. he had finished the rest of the pretzels in his hand.

“good.” he nodded. “i always get nervous when top and i invite people over. we’ve done it a bunch of times, but there’s always the possibility of something going wrong.”

“well, you’re doing great. both of you. hopefully, nothing horrible happens.”

11 p.m.

you would be lying if you said that your conversation with rafe from hours ago wasn’t still running through your head. it was difficult not to think about it when you kept seeing him more often throughout the party. most of the time you’d catch his eye, or vice versa, and instantly smile. you’d then recall the sound of his laugh and would even hear it from feet away. the clenching in your chest was now accompanied by a swirling in your stomach.

you were pacing yourself with your drinks, but by now you were on your fifth of the night. you were completely aware of everything around you and you were enjoying the ongoing buzz. lina and melly were a bit more inebriated than you were, which only added to the fun.

the two girls in front of you were swaying to a song together, not even close to being slow tempo. it was very upbeat, the bass pumping through the walls. the front door to the apartment was now open since it had begun to get warmer with the more and more people that were joining. a few windows were thrown open as well.

“you remember how in freshman year you fell down that flight of stairs and twisted your ankle and practically bashed your head in and then your mom yelled at you and then your sister called to tell you she was pregnant and then your dad! oh my god, and then your dad was like ‘hey i’m thinking of leaving your mom so uh, yeah’ and then your mom was so pissed but then she was fine because she found a total hunk of a man to replace your dad like that,” melly snapped her fingers as your body started to shake with laughter. lina was laughing too, not at all bothered with a quick recap of her, very shitty, first year.

“yes, thank you for reminding me mel. i love when we have tantalizing conversation like this.” lina leaned her head against the others’.

mel giggled, a few hiccups escaping. “i think i need to pee.”

“god, you’re like a peeing machine.” lina sighed and tightened her arm around melly.

“that’s what drinking will do to you.”

lina rolled her eyes and looked at you as she brought melly to the bathroom. you asked quickly if she needed help, but she shook her head and promised they’d be back soon. you watched them go then turned back to the party, turning too fast and not feeling the presence behind you in the moment. a cool liquid pooled over and down your chest, soaking the fabric of your sweater. you gasped at the contact, your mouth dropping open and looking down at the dark stain.

“i— “ you looked up to tell the person it was fine before an apology came out, finding that off-white t-shirt on a very familiar blue-eyed person. “we have to stop meeting like this.”

rafe looked horrified at having spilled his drink all over your sweater, his eyes wide as they stared at your chest.

“that’s the most cliché thing to say.” you said, laughing lightly to ease the tension so obvious in his features.

he let out a laugh too. “you can borrow something of mine. come on,” he held out his hand and you took it willingly, realizing some people were staring at the accident way too curiously. you let rafe lead you up the stairs, the complete darkness on the landing causing you to focus solely on his hand in yours.

rafe opened a door and flipped a light on, your eyes adjusting to the brightness. he led you further in and closed the door behind you before rushing to his dresser, a whole display of cologne bottles on top. as he rummaged through the drawers, you stood just in front of the door, a little timid to step further in. you were holding your sweater away from your chest, already feeling the stickiness of liquid on your skin.

“how’s this one?” he asked, holding out a simple white one.

“you don’t have to give me a shirt.”

“it’s the least i can do. the bathroom is right there.” he handed the shirt to you and nodded just behind your shoulder. you thanked him and went in, closing the door with a click. you pulled the sweater off and dampened a washcloth, wiping the dried drink from your skin. pulling the shirt on, you relished in how soft it was and styled the piece of fabric so it looked better with your skirt.

rafe was sitting on a couch next to his bed, more like a futon, his hands in his pockets and hat off his head. he looked up as you came out, straightening his posture and looking you up and down.

“i’m sorry.” he smiled guiltily.

you smiled and walked over, moving around the small circular coffee table and sitting next to him. “guess it was payback for the other day,” you teased as you folded your sweater and set it next to you.

rafe rolled his eyes with a knowing smile. you glanced at him as you leaned back, feeling the softness and rigidness of the futon. “you look good in my shirt.”

“i feel better in a less damp one.” you said, easing the fluttering in your stomach. your chest clenched again as you crossed your legs.

glancing around rafe’s room, you admired the movie posters on the walls and the multiple lacrosse paraphernalia. one of his jerseys lay crumpled at the end of his bed, the comforter pulled over the pillows to look made. it was better than you did with your bed, you were pretty sure yours was unmade and messy.

it was a decent sized room, plus the bathroom was nice to have. you’d kill for your own bathroom again. it would be nice not to wait in a line. you told yourself that you just had to figure out an earlier schedule so you could beat the crowd.

after a once-over of rafe’s room, you looked over at him to find him already looking at you. he was fully analyzing your face, you could see his eyes flickering to different parts.

you swallowed and licked your lips. “what?”

“nothing.” he said quickly and sighed, laying his head back on the couch.

you squinted at him, now tracing over his features. he looked nervous from what you could tell, his hands moving in his pockets. you stared at his chest moving up and down slowly, the intake of breath coming as it grew bigger. his adam’s apple protruded, bobbing slightly as he swallowed. your chest clenched once again as you looked at his face, watching him look up at the ceiling. he really was handsome. you shifted in your seat, switching your leg over the other.

“that look wasn’t nothing.” you commented, breathing in.

“what look?” he turned his head toward you, eyebrows slightly pushing together. you watched every change in his face, from his eyebrows to his eyes blinking then to his tongue peeking out to lick his lips.

“the look of ‘i want to eat you up’.”

he laughed, the couch shaking with him. “what does that entail?”

“major gazing and bedroom eyes.”

“bedroom eyes, huh?” he hummed and lifted his head. his lips tugged at a smirk.

“am i imagining things?” you asked seriously, slightly doubting if you made the right call. maybe he wasn’t thinking what you thought he had been. maybe you were imagining things.

rafe didn’t answer, instead looking down at the floor. the smirk alone told you that you had been right. his hands flexed in his pockets, hard for you to miss. a few silent minutes passed, the both of you listening to the party still going on downstairs.

“if you want to kiss me, all you have to do is ask.” you said quietly. after a moment you figured he hadn’t heard you, that he had lost himself in staring at the carpet.

“can i?”

“yes,” you nodded.

rafe sat up and met your eyes, moving closer until his thigh was touching yours. you shifted your upper half closer to him, feeling a wave of shivers run through you the second his hand touched your cheek. you instinctively pressed your legs tighter together as your heartbeat picked up and rafe lowered over you, licking his lips once more. they were soft and firm, just as they needed to be. he tilted your chin up, his thumb brushing just beside your mouth as you kissed.

seconds later, you brought your own hands to his face. you were eager to touch him, to feel the solidness of him against you. it was mostly a reassurance that this was in fact happening and that you weren’t dreaming. you pushed a hand into his hair just behind his ear and mirrored the last few pecks he was leaving you before he fully pulled away. you felt a pinch of disappointment, the small taste for him now growing bigger. you had to stop your hands from pulling him back.

he pulled away only a little and you opened your eyes to see him still so close and looking over your face. your breaths mingled together.

“what?” you huffed, letting your head fall back for a second in slight irritation. you just wanted to kiss him again. you let your hand slide down from his hair, resting near his shoulder. you wanted to squeeze the muscle under your hand.

“nothing.” he said again, eyes flickering down to your lips once more. he smiled, holding himself up on the back of the couch. his thumb brushed the same spot on your cheek. “don’t tell anyone, but i’ve been imagining this since you showed up tonight.”

you returned your hand to his hair, slightly scratching with a smile. “i knew you spilled your drink on purpose.”

rafe grinned widely and moved back into you. this kiss was deeper, your lips opening for him when you felt his tongue. his hand left your cheek and appeared on your hip, ever so slightly pushing your shirt up so he could touch your skin at your waist. you smiled against him as you felt his hand slowly creep up the shirt. you were reminded again that it was his and you pulled him closer by the back of the neck, hearing a soft moan leave his lips. your thighs squeezed, your excitement starting to rise.

“you just gave it to me and now you want to take it off?” you teased as rafe’s hand covered one of your breasts, the cool air of the room reaching your skin. rafe smiled and kissed you again.

his hand disappeared, apparently changing his mind, and reappeared on your thigh. you breathed in sharply at the warmth coming from his palm, resting just above your knee. your brain started to spaz for a moment and you imagined a bunch of smaller yous, running in circles like their heads were cut off.

rafe’s hand stayed steady as you uncrossed your legs, a silent invitation. he moved to kiss the corner of your mouth. “is this okay?”

the fact that he was pulling away multiple times to check in on you had to be evidence enough of why lina and melly liked him so much. you hadn’t met many guys that were so in tune with consent or caring about what you wanted. it turned you on seeing it coming from him.

“yes.” you nodded as you touched his forearm, not wanting to seem too eager.

you anticipated his hand moving and when it did, you held back the moan. you were much too eager for teasing and he was showing no signs of not giving you want you wanted. as he got closer to you, you placed your hand over his. he pulled you back for a kiss and you decided to focus on that for a moment to lessen your nerves.

his touch was soft once he met your underwear. his fingers pressed over you and you shivered from how wet you had become because of him. he hummed into your mouth, only adding to the pooling between your legs. his hand reached back and pushed your skirt further up so he could get to you more easily.

you let out a satisfied sigh against his lips as he ran a finger through your folds, collecting your wetness. your underwear had been pushed to the side, out of the way, finally feeling his touch.

“are you this wet for me?” he asked. you nodded against his forehead and pulled him back, letting out a moan as he brushed over your clit. it was only for a second, but you were about ready to burst.

you opened your legs wider for rafe, his fingers moving over you and exploring the new area. you gripped his hand to silently ask him for more along with an impatient moan. you wanted his fingers so badly in places you weren’t ready to admit yet. he wanted the opposite.

“talk to me.” he said, nudging the side of your face with his nose, planting a kiss to your jaw. you opened your eyes that had fallen shut, your breath getting heavier. your chest felt like it was going to cave in.

“please,” you said, adjusting your hips. “please, touch me.”

“i am.” he pulled away, a menacing smirk on his face just to gauge your reaction.

you huffed out and pulled his hand closer. “you know what i mean, rafe.”

“i like when you say my name.” he pressed a kiss to your lips sweetly.

“i might like when you touch me, so get on with it already.”

rafe laughed huskily, his breath blowing over your face. “you want my fingers?”

you wanted to roll your eyes at how badly he wanted you to beg, but you wanted his fingers more. “yes, please. i want your fingers. give me something.”

you let go of his hand as he finally pushed a finger into you. you adjusted around him for a moment and felt the need to close your legs to keep him there. he pulled your lips back to his, his tongue quick to lick into you. you held his face again as his finger started to move inside of you.

“you want another, pretty girl?” he asked after a few moments passed. you nodded again, breathing hoarsely, too intoxicated in him to speak. a second finger pushed into you then, stretching you ever so slightly. you sighed, letting your head fall back to the couch.

“you’re so wet.” he said as he moved his fingers, delighting in the sounds he was making with you in the palm of his hand. “you’re taking my fingers so well, y/n. do they feel good?”

you moaned as he said your name for the first time. it was something you didn’t think you’d like so much, but with the current situation, it was wonderful.

rafe’s lips appeared on your neck. you held the back of his head as he pressed a few kisses then closed his lips over a spot closer to your collarbone. if your breath had been short then, it was even shorter now as he worked to leave a mark on you. with all the attention you were getting, it only brought you closer to your release, and you started to move your hips. he freed your skin, startled at your movements, then amazed as he watched you chase his fingers. the spot he left throbbed now, all your blood rushing to two places at once.

“are you going to come?” he asked as you heard the start of song you had been replaying for the past few weeks. it was muffled and you could barely hear the words, but you knew it by heart.

“yes, fuck.” you looked up at him, taking in the sight. he was breathing over you, his eyes never straying too far from yours as your mouth opened in pleasure. “rafe, make me come.”

you squeezed your eyes shut as he kissed you hard, breathing deeply into your mouth. he reached his thumb to your clit and began to draw circles at a normal pace with his fingers. your stomach started to twist, the familiar feeling forming fast as he picked up the pace. he could tell you were close by the sheer dig of your fingertips on the back of his neck. it only edged him on more to bring you to your climax.

“come on my fingers.” he said, eyes half closed as he looked at you, lips brushing over yours as he spoke. you whimpered and felt your hips twitch before stilling completely, trapping rafe’s hand between your legs, as you came undone. his thumb continued to move to help you through it. your jaw went slack, eyes rolling under your eyelids, as you moaned loudly. you felt an overwhelming sense of content, the adrenaline rush coming and going quickly.

your blood pumped in your ears and it took you a few moments to register rafe giving you subtle kisses all over the underside of your jaw. you breathed in shakily and let your head fall back on the couch, your knees separating. rafe took his hand away and you winced as he did. you already missed the contact.

the moment was completely ruined as his name was called up the stairs. rafe’s lips disappeared from you as he looked toward the door. you didn’t know what came over you as you pulled your skirt down over your thighs, the footsteps heavy outside his door before a couple of his friends burst in.

“guys, come on. get the fuck out!” he shouted in annoyance, sitting up completely, his leg still touching yours.

“woah, sorry.” they said as they took in your presence. you shifted and knew that they could probably tell what you and rafe had been doing. they evidently didn’t care as they went into a whole spiel of something that had taken place downstairs. rafe tried to stop them and their alcohol-induced exuberance.

he looked at you over his shoulder, touching you lightly on the knee. “i'm sorry.” he said, his friends not hearing as they talked to one another. “i'll see you downstairs?”

part of you felt completely stupid when he said it, like everything that had happened moments ago was just an imagination. you felt your shoulders slump, but you nodded and got up anyways. the door was quick to close behind you and you were left in the dark landing, leaning against the wall to catch your breath. you smoothed your hair, took a deep breath, and fixed your underwear and skirt again.

your eyes adjusted gradually as you went down the stairs back into the swing of things. you swallowed, your mouth still dry post-climax. you went into the kitchen and filled up a cup with water, downing it slowly and stepping out of the way of some people. you couldn’t help but feel drained as you watched the people around you, laughing, dancing, and drinking. you had just spent the last 30 minutes in rafe cameron’s room and now you didn’t know what to do with yourself.

“y/n!” you looked up at melly coming toward you, her makeup slightly smudged, but that didn’t change how great she looked. “there you are!”

you gave her an assured smile and finished the water in your cup. “hey.” you tried not to let anything show.

“lina and i are ready to go if you want to come with. i think we’re going to get some food somewhere in town. i was thinking curly fries or a veggie burger. lina is dying for— wait, where did you go? we looked everywhere.” her expression suddenly changed to one of concern as she stepped closer to you.

“i— uh, well clearly not everywhere.” you said shamelessly, feeling your neck grow warm.

melly opened her mouth to say something then stopped. “oh my god, why are you so flushed? what happened to your sweater?” she looked at the shirt, her eyes catching on something near your collarbone. her eyes went wide as you tried to hide the mark. “oh my god!”

monday, 4 p.m.

“i was thinking that it could go more like this,” your friend said as she pressed a few buttons on her laptop. a new beat started from the computer, the screen following along with the track. you bobbed your head along with the beat.

the campus coffeeshop was somewhere you liked to go, mostly to meet your friends, but you also enjoyed the coffee. sometimes before class you’d make it just in time to get an extra scone before they were all gone. it was a cozy place too, filled with older antiques and an endless display of guitars on every wall. sometimes they’d have an open mic for students, letting anyone with any sort of musical or comical talent perform. most of the acts were later in the week though so no one had to worry about coursework.

after your classes today, you had met up with a friend you hadn’t seen in a while. she was eager to show you what she had been working on for her musical composition classes and you had expressed that you were willing to listen.

the past weekend had been spent mulling over a certain party and a certain someone you couldn’t seem to forget. not that you tried to, to be fair. you’d hadn’t seen him since, which was nothing new given the amount of times you had encountered the boy since that day on campus or seen him for the first time in the library. you didn’t find things weird, but things were left upspoken and it had been bothering you. you knew that melly or lina could’ve easily gotten his number for you, had you asked, but you couldn’t bring yourself to, nor did you know what you would say. all you could do was hope that he was doing well and maybe, perhaps, thinking of you too.

it was inevitable to escape having to talk about what happened in rafe’s room with melly and lina. you weren’t willing to share all of the details right down to what he smelled like, but you didn’t deny that nothing occurred. they seemed satisfied when you recounted having to change your sweater and rafe being kind enough to offer you one of his shirts.

speaking of the shirt, you had gone to your dorm that night and taken it off, seeing that “cameron” was written on the back, along with a large number. no doubt it was for lacrosse. the prospect of it made you shiver before folding it up to leave on your desk. you hadn’t touched it since.

“christ, i've got a meeting with my advisor soon.” your friend said, quickly exiting the program on her screen and closing her computer. “thank you again so much for listening. i can’t express how relieving it is to have someone do this.”

you waved her off with a sweet smile and packed up your own things. “i'm always around if you need a first-time listener.”

both of you stood and pushed the metal chairs in. you followed her to the exit, listening to her as she explained the reasoning for her upcoming meeting. both doors opened, the one from her pushing and the other from rafe coming in. you looked up as he met your eyes, and you couldn’t deny how good it was to see him.

“hey,” he smiled at you as all three of you paused.

before you could say anything, the words sticking to your tongue, you looked back to your friend. she was looking between the both of you, unsure of what was going on. you swallowed and acknowledged her. “i’ll see you later?”

a small smile came onto her face as she looked at rafe then back to you and nodded. the door closed softly behind her. you looked back at rafe as you felt his hand ghosting over your forearm.

“hi,” you said finally.

“it’s good to see you. come up with me?” he gestured to the register and you nodded, letting him take your hand. you didn’t think too much of it as you stood alongside him as he ordered. when the cashier asked if there would be anything else, rafe looked at you expectantly. you blanked for a second, remembering that you didn’t get a drink earlier when you first arrived. you had immediately gone for a sandwich, satisfied that that would be your dinner.

rafe pulled out his wallet and paid for the two drinks. he then led you toward the pick-up counter and faced you with a soft smile. “how have you been?”

“okay,” you breathed in deeply. you weren’t exactly sure how to answer. were you supposed to tell him how freaked out you had been? no, you decided, best not to. “the weekend was busy.”

“mine too. i've got practice tonight so i thought i’d stop by for some energy. i’m glad i ran into you.”

you refrained from asking him if he was serious. you could see on his face that he was with the way he looked at you. “rafe—”

before you could say much of anything else, rafe’s hands appeared on your cheeks and his lips pressed to yours. you kissed him back just as gently even though you wanted to do more now that you felt him again. he pulled away as his order was called, turning to thank the barista as he took the two cups.

“come to my place to study? after practice, i mean.” he said as he held your cup out to you. you looked at it then back up at his questioning eyes, a sliver of hope in them. you pushed down the question at the tip of your tongue and accepted the coffee.

“we’re just studying?”

rafe beamed and nodded. “i have a huge test tomorrow that i can’t fail, so yes.”

7 p.m.

before parting ways with rafe earlier he had finally taken your phone and put his number in it, but not before taking an odd photo of himself. it made you laugh watching it happen though. he promised that he would be done with practice around now and you left your dorm a little earlier than you planned to. it was out of pure thrill really.

knocking on the front door, you waited patiently for it to be answered. you shifted the books in your arms as you heard soft footsteps behind the door. rafe opened it, standing in loose-fitting clothes with damp hair. he smiled instantly and welcomed you in.

it was a drastic difference compared to the party. the house was eerily quiet, so quiet you could hear a pin drop. rafe turned to you from the door.

“how many books did you bring?” he asked seriously, glancing at them against your chest.

“just two,” you said defensively only until you saw the grin. you rolled your eyes and turned away from him to kick your shoes off.

he was chuckling to himself as he went into the kitchen and pulled out snacks to have. “do you want anything to drink?”

“water would be great.”

“smart choice. less sticky.” he said, his back to you, but you could hear the satisfied tone of his voice at his remark.

once he gathered drinks and a plate of snacks, he led you upstairs. it was brighter this time with his door already open and lights already on. you glanced at the other closed one down the short hall, finding the sliver underneath completely dark. maybe topper wasn’t home.

“how was practice?” you asked, setting your things down. he placed the plate on the coffee table and took a seat on the floor. you brushed your hair away from your face and sat down beside him.

“good. just ran some drills, normal practice stuff.” he shrugged, munching on a chip.

“is topper not home?” you set your books on the table and opened them up to where you had marked. rafe moved to grab his things from his bag sitting on the couch. he copied your actions and pulled out a pencil and a notebook.

“no, he went out with some of the guys for food.” he said easily, opening to a blank page. you watched curiously as he wrote down the topic he was studying for.

both of you fell into a silence as you started to read from your books. you were worried about it being a strange silence, knowing what happened the last time you were in this room. it was fairly difficult to push it out of your mind and to focus when rafe was right next to you, so close, along with the thoughts and memory of his touch. you pushed everything out of your head and concentrated back on the page you were reading from.

it wasn’t long when rafe’s hand appeared on your bent leg. they were crossed under you and he had placed his hand like it belonged over the side of your knee. you looked at him in your peripheral but didn’t see him look up once to acknowledge that he had in fact done that. instead you let it happen, ignoring the way it warmed up your skin. you swallowed in anticipation of him interrupting your studying session to turn it into a quick make out session, but the longer the minutes passed the longer his hand stayed where it was. after a while, you forgot about it.

if you had taken one look at rafe, with no prior knowledge of him or of the way his hands felt on you, you would have never guessed that he becomes so engrossed in studying. for the whole two hours that you both spent together with your noses in textbooks, he hadn’t once started a conversation. he kept at reading and writing, jotting things down in his notebook, while you held your head above your own book and soaked up every last word. it was comforting knowing that. the plate had even emptied, mostly due to rafe’s insatiable appetite after practice. you weren’t that hungry from your sandwich earlier.

“okay, that’s it.” rafe said abruptly, causing you to look up as his hand left your knee. “my eyes are going to bleed if i read anymore.”

you laughed lightly and looked back at your book. “are you sure you studied enough?”

“i wrote a whole ten pages worth of notes.” he flipped through them, the pages brushing together.

you hummed, still engrossed in your text. rafe shuffled next to you, dropping his notebook over the open pages along with his pencil. he let out a long sigh which turned into a yawn.

“are you done?” he asked innocently, his head appearing on your shoulder.

you glanced at him and shrugged him off with a smile. “maybe.”

“come on,” he groaned and reached for your textbook. you automatically smacked his hand away. he laughed and quickly flipped it closed and took ahold of your chin to face him.

“that was a dick move.” you said, punching him softly on the arm.

“pay attention to me.” he whined, letting go of your chin only to touch your cheek.

you eyed him as he came closer, finally kissing you when you didn’t punch him again or push him away. you kissed him back as best you could with the speculation seeping into your brain then. rafe seemed to be able to tell.

“what is it?” he asked when he pulled away, running his thumb lightly along your cheekbone. it was reassuring almost.

you looked at him, trying to think of the best way to phrase it. you also thought about how badly it could go given the answer you were dreading. “i'm just— it’s nothing.” you shook your head quickly and leaned in to distract him with another kiss.

he reciprocated for only a moment. “what is it? you can tell me.”

“i guess i'm just wondering what we’re doing.” you rolled your shoulder as if you had a knot, pulling away from rafe in case he didn’t want to touch you. his hand fell from your face and he leaned his side against the couch.

“what do you want to do?”

you gave him a serious glare. “don’t make this a game, rafe. i'm just…wondering what your intentions are.”

rafe adjusted his posture and sat up straighter, all his attention on you. his eyebrows creased and you bit the inside of your lip self-consciously, knowing this wasn’t going to go how you wanted it.

“well, i'm enjoying spending time with you.”

“studying?” you asked with a monotone.

rafe glanced away from you as if he were wondering if he said the wrong thing. “yeah. is that so hard to believe?”

you wanted to huff again, but you held the breath in. your shoulders started to tense as you became frustrated. not because of him, mostly because of yourself for not being able to communicate. you felt stupid for asking it, but you did. “do you like kissing me?”

“of course i do.”

“is that all you want to do?” you finally asked, quickly looking away from him. you reached toward your textbook, fiddling with the pages.

“no,” rafe said. “i want to get to know you.”

it was hard for you not to roll your eyes. rafe noticed and a second later his hand touched your shoulder, gently shaking it.

“i'm serious. hey, look at me.” he pleaded, and you did. “i want to get to know you, but only if you’ll let me. i know the other night was weird and i don’t know— spontaneous, but i enjoyed it and i enjoy being around you. you’re not the only one who’s been thinking about it.”

“i’ve probably been thinking about it more than you.” you chided in a quiet voice, trying to tease him. you were pleased by the answer he gave you and you felt a little silly for being so stubborn at first.

rafe smiled slightly, eyes soft. “let’s just keep doing what we’re doing and see where it goes, okay?”

you took a deep breath in, pushing your book away and nodding. “okay.”

rafe’s hand rubbed your shoulder comfortingly before he pulled you in for an awkwardly placed hug. the side of your body fell into his chest, but he hugged you, nonetheless, pressing a quick kiss to the crown of your head. you turned into him and smiled widely, your cheeks strained to hold it, and hugged him around the shoulders.

all the time spent worrying about whether he reciprocated your feelings or thoughts were so obviously wasted as you spent the rest of the night together. you took it slow, never straying from innocent kisses as you curled up together to watch a movie. you couldn’t help grinning multiple times throughout the night, knowing that things wouldn’t be difficult like you thought. it was easy when you expressed yourself and talked things over, even mentioning small things made a difference. maybe this would turn out to be another smart decision. you had a feeling there were plenty of possibilities with rafe cameron, but only time would tell.

[imherongraystairstrash]

Can you write 42: “here take my sweater” for Jordelia?

It’s really long, my dudes. 

I changed the prompt a little, so that it sort of fit the time period better, so now it’s “Here, take my coat.” Anyway, I hope there aren’t too many mistakes and that you all enjoy it!

Ship: Jordelia (James x Cordelia)

Prompt: “Here, take my coat”

James and Cordelia were walking back from a winter ball in the Penhallow’s home. It had been incredibly dull, and the only thing that kept Cordelia from falling asleep had been Matthew and Lucie’s hilarious reenactment of Rosamund Wentworth and Thoby Baybrook’s wedding (where Lucie played Thoby and Matthew, Rosamund, respectively). 

Now, Cordelia couldn’t suppress the shiver that ran through her body as the cold, winter breeze pushed against them. Her thin dressing fabrics did nothing to warm her against the cold. She prayed to any of the angels that might have been listening for James not to notice, for she would simply die of embarrassment. Unfortunately, it seemed they all had their heads turned elsewhere.

“Angel,”James cursed. “I’m such a nitwit. You’re absolutely freezing in that measly shawl, Daisy. Here, take my coat.” he said, shrugging it off and placing it on her shoulders.

“Oh no, it’s quite alright, James. You needn’t spare it for me.”

“Nonsense, I’ve had it on all night. I insist you wear it.”

“Thank you,” Cordelia said, shrugging it on. It was large on her, the sleeves covering her hands but…it smelled like James. 

Cordelia fought the urge to close her eyes and breathe it in, for James would  

certainly find it strange, if not a bit unsettling. 

“Really, thank you.” she said, thankful she wouldn’t have to worry about getting sick.

“It was nothing, Daisy.” He said, offering her his bent arm, which she took. “You shouldn’t be suffering in the cold. I cannot understand why they do not make warm women’s clothes.”

Cordelia shrugged. “I imagine it is just the way it has always been.”

James pressed his lips together. “Well, it should change.”

Cordelia nodded. “At least, in the meantime, there are kind gentlemen who might offer theirs.”

James scoffed. “It really was nothing, Daisy.”

Cordelia just looked down, deliberately not replying. That was when her eyes caught on the bracelet James bore on his wrist. 

“That’s Grace Blackthorn’s bracelet, is it not?”

Cordelia didn’t mean to make such a bitter comment. She hadn’t wanted to make James feel uncomfortable. And it wasn’t as though they were truly married. It shouldn’t matter to her that he wore it, if he wasn’t hers to claim in the first place.

Except, it did matter. It mattered to her.

James looked down and his eyes widened. “I—What a fool I am; I must have forgotten to take it off. All these years I’ve worn it, I have become quite accustomed to how it feels on my wrist. A million apologizes, Cordelia.”

“You really mustn’t apologize, James. It’s hardly necessary if we aren’t in a relationship to begin with.”

“Still, Daisy.” James replied, unclasping the bracelet and stuffing it in the pocket of his trousers. “I cannot be wearing another woman's bracelet, while I’m married to you. Regardless of the reasons behind our marriage, you are my wife. You deserve better than that.”

“James, don’t stress about it.”

James opened his mouth, but Cordelia cut him off. “I don’t want to hear anymore about this business. Let’s talk about something el—”

James suddenly surged forward, causing Cordelia to exclaim a surprised “James!”.

“Are you alright?” She said, worry still heavy on her tongue as she helped him stay on his feet. 

James shook his head, as though to clear his thoughts. “Yes, I just—I had a dizzy spell.”

“Goodness, would you like us to sit? I don’t find it wise to be standing, much less walking, if you are unwell. Perhaps we wait until you have recovered?”

“I’m sure it’s nothing, Daisy. Let us continue walking home. I wouldn’t want to keep you in the cold for longer than needed.”

“Don’t worry about me,” Cordelia said, her heart practically swelling up to half of it’s normal size. “You’re unwell and besides, I have a wonderful coat to keep me warm.” She stuffed her hands in the pockets of his coat and hugged herself for emphasize. 

James gave her a rueful smile. “You are absolutely positive?”

Cordelia felt her lips tug upwards, “Come now,” She walked him over to the nearest bench and sat him down. James did so, obediently, and looked up at her with those beautiful eyes of gold, like a puppy.  

“There you are.” She said, perhaps a bit breathlessly.

James continued to look up at her, his expression open and…liberated, almost. He was different in that moment. He resembled Lucie, during those times when she’d look across the room and stare at nothing, and subconsciously smile. She felt the urge to hold his face in her hands and kiss his forehead, asking him what is the matter. Or, better yet, what was the matter. 

He looked at her and she sat down at him. Cordelia lost herself in his eyes long enough to forget where they were, until a swan flapped its wings in the lake nearby. Both of them jumped, startled by the sudden noise. James seemed to recover quicker and cleared his throat. 

“Sit, Daisy.” He said, patting the seat next to him.

“Yes, yes, of course.” She said, taking a seat next to her husband. 

They awkwardly looked anywhere. Anywhere but at each other. Cordelia was concentrating so hard on looking like she wasn’t paying attention to James, that she didn’t realize he was looking at her until she shifted her gaze to a tree, and saw him through her peripheral vision. 

“Daisy,” he said, before leaning in slowly, giving her time to back away, if she wanted to. Except, she didn’t. All she truly wanted to do was lean in and kiss him. So she did. 

His lips felt incredibly soft against hers. Warm, too, against the bitter cold of the air. He slanted his lips to fit hers and she reached up to his hair, that was cold from the snow that had fallen on it. His gloved hands were also a bit cold, but their presence made her skin flush. Or perhaps it was his tongue on hers.

It mattered not what it was. The fact that James was kissing her, pulling her closer to his chest, and that there was so much love in those actions made everything else insignificant. 

He pulled away, their faces so close together that Cordelia could make out a lone freckle on the bridge of his nose. On his eyelashes were little bits of snow that got stuck. She went to brush them off and he closed his eyes in a graceful motion that made her think of angels. She brushed off the snow, wishing she didn’t have mittens on her fingers, if only to touch his soft face. Her hand lingered on his cheek and he slowly opened his eyes again, his hands drifting up from when they rested on her waist, one coming to rest on her upper back, the other on her chin.

Their mouths found each other once more, however this time, the kiss was slow. Their lips worked together silently and in perfect synchronization, as if they were modeled after each other. Cordelia couldn’t help but thank that they were married, and that if, in the unlikely chance one should happen to stumble into them, it would not be a scandal. Then, of course, she remembered the scandal she had caused before and couldn’t help but smile. She pulled away slightly, and they were once more looking at one another. 

“Daisy.” James said, his voice hoarse.

“Yes?”

He sighed. “You are an angel from Heaven. How they must have weeped when they had to let you go. To have to spare you so that you could venture Earth and save us.”

“How did I save you all?” Cordelia said, jokingly. 

“You’re a beacon of light. You’re the lighthouse that chases away my shadows.”

“No, James. I embrace your shadows.”

James scrunched his eyebrows.

“Your shadows are a part of you, and I adore everything about you.” Cordelia was quite sure she was being possessed by a demon, for she could not believe the words coming out of her mouth. She would have been mortified, had James not spoken.

“I adore everything about you, Daisy.”

Cordelia’s heart skipped a beat. She could feel her face get all cold, though not from London’s bitter winter air. James stood and pulled her up with him. He hugged her close to his body and reached out to caress her face with the back of his hand. She felt her eyes shutter to a close as he began to brush loose strands of her hair away from her face. And even though she could see nothing beyond darkness, she could feel James’ touch in every part of her body. 

She felt James’ hand slip down to lightly hold her chin and tilt her face upwards. Their lips met once more, perfectly content to having been reunited. Oh, how wonderfully James kissed! His lips were like the flapping wings of a butterfly in your cupped hand; soft and light, but frantic. It was almost like he was coming back to life, and wanted to experience everything it had to offer.

Cordelia shifted in his arms, falling deeper into his embrace. James broke apart and he moved to kiss the corner of her lip, her cheek, her jawline, behind her ear. She could have stayed there for days, would have let him kiss her days and would have kissed him for days. Could have felt his hands running up and down her body until the planets collided and the world ended. All of the time in the world, she would have dedicated it to him and being together and being in love. 

Cordelia felt herself go stiff in James’ arms. He nestled his face in her neck, and despite how much her body screamed to not do it, she pulled away and stepped back from James. 

They locked eyes, gold on black. She began to shake her head. He didn’t love her and she was a fool to think he did. A fool to let herself believe that this was anything more than physical attraction on James’ part.

“Daisy, what’s the matter?” He eyes were filled with concern and it hurt even more to know that they weren’t concerned for his wife, but for a friend. He took a step, and she did the same, except while he took a step forward, towards her, she took a step back, away from him.

James’ eyebrows scrunched together in confusion. “Daisy?”

She looked away, knowing tears would fall if she continued to look at those eyes. 

James would never love her.

She turned her back to him, turned her back to her pain, and began walking away. Away from the boy she loved.

How was any of this fair? How is it that all she’d ever done in life was love him, and yet would never receive that same love from him? 

“Daisy!”

Maybe she wasn’t kind enough. Maybe she wasn’t pretty enough.

“Daisy, what’s the matter?” James called out to her.

Nevertheless, didn’t she deserve to be loved? Was she so unloveable? So undesirable?

“Daisy, slow down!”

 What had she done wrong?

James caught up to her, and stood in front of her path. 

“Cordelia,” he whispered, bending down so as to be able to look her in the eyes. “Please tell me what happened.”

“It’s nothing, James.” She said, refusing to look at him. “I’m just tired, that’s all.”

She could feel his gaze on her, trying to see why she was acting the way she was. She forced herself to look at him, put on a half smile and begin walking again. To her surprise, James didn’t stop her and simply just fell into step alongside her. He didn’t touch her nor offer his arm. They just walked back home. 

Cordelia’s lungs filled with freezing air, which she could feel travel all over her body, as she took a deep breath. 

Love. It was a paradox unto itself. Because it can by the source of the greatest happiness in your life, or the source of all of your pain.  In Cordelia’s case, it seemed to be doomed to be the latter.

...

Hope you guys were in the mood to read some angst. 

Tagging: @celias @tsccreatorsnet @atla-lok143 @hitheresomeoneusingthus @rinadragomir @youngreckless @autumnangel20 @julemmaes @cupcakesandkittens @no-scones-allowed @fictionally-fantastic @stxr-thxif @niaforjordelia @itsdaughterofthemoon @dustandshadowsworld 

If you want to be tagged in future fics, please let me know and I’ll add you to the list!!

[thejakeformerlyknownasprince]

Re: Star Wars prequel novelizations - the Revenge of the Sith book is genuinely one of the best things I have ever read and changed my life.

THANK YOU, anon, for reminding me about the Revenge of the Sith novelization.  I just reread it, and my crops are watered, my skin is clear, and — I cannot overstate this — I actually remember why I love Star Wars.  That love has been for too long stolen by The Fandom Menace sucking the life out of those movies to invent a new definition of suffering while digesting them slowly over a thousand years.

Revenge of the Sith by Matthew Stover is one of the greatest works of adventure fiction I have ever read, and it continues to inspire the way I write action sequences and character conflicts.  It does so damn much to transform a movie that is, to be honest, just okay.  There are a couple of big additions from the novel that make the whole Skywalker saga richer, and there are about five hundred little tweaks that deepen the lore in a way that shows that Stover loves Star Wars to the core.

First big addition: having Obi-Wan tell Padmé that he’s in love with Anakin. This is great because yay, queer representation!  But within the specific context of RotS, it also sets up the super-important contrast between Obi-Wan and Anakin.  Obi-Wan, Stover’s novel makes clear, is the quiet and unassuming embodiment of everything a Jedi is supposed to be: he’s selfless, loving, hard-working, and incredibly skilled with the Force.  Obi-Wan falls in love with Anakin, realizes that Anakin doesn’t love him back in that way, and... lives with it.  He spends time with Anakin, supports Anakin, enjoys Anakin’s company, and doesn’t act like the world will end if Anakin isn’t his.

Anakin loves Obi-Wan, in a siblinglike way, and he loves Padmé.  But he’s got a nasty habit of expressing that love through possession and control, through going behind Padmé’s back to “fix” her life without her permission.  Anakin falls in love with Padmé and immediately concludes that he cannot possibly live like this: they must begin a secret relationship, and he must both marry her and remain a Jedi.  Later he destroys the Jedi and eventually Padmé herself because he sees himself as having no way out of that dilemma.

And all the while, Obi-Wan is there in the background.  Also in love with someone with whom he cannot have a relationship, and just… dealing with it like an adult.  Because millions of people are in love with people who don’t love them back, and that’s just how it is sometimes.  It’s selfish to obsess over “having” their love at all costs.  For Anakin, that obsession with saving Obi-Wan and Padmé eventually leads to him killing them both.

When Yoda tells Anakin that he must deal with his fear of losing Padmé through letting go, Anakin takes this to mean “let her die.”  But what Yoda means is not “let her die,” but rather “love her the way Obi-Wan loves you: quietly, selflessly, and with a willingness to do what’s best for her, whether or not that means you get to have her.”  And Anakin never understands that, because Anakin’s view of the world is so intensely egocentric.

Second big addition: updating the Force to explain the Dark Side. Revenge of the Sith, even more so than any other Star Wars, is all about the contrast between the Dark Side and the Light Side.  Here, Stover’s contribution is brilliant; he makes the Dark Side egocentric and the Light allocentric.

Terminology! “Egocentric” in psych refers to the perspective that focuses on how the world affects you and how you affect the world.  At the extreme, egocentric thinking can be believing that a baby is crying in a deliberate effort to annoy you, or that every person in a crowded cafeteria will remember what shirt you wore when you ate there a week ago.  “Allocentric” refers to the perspective that the self is one of several disparate elements buffered around by the world.  At the extreme, allocentric thinking can be failing to realize that others are reacting to your presence, or viewing your own life as one thing you can give to help others.

Stover doesn’t use those terms, but he does describe how Dooku “drew power into his innermost being until the Force itself existed only to serve his will” (p. 64).  Later, Obi-Wan “gave himself to the living Force… the Force moved him, let him collapse as though he’d suddenly fainted, then it brought his lightsaber from his belt to his hand” (p. 285).  Dooku ultimately loses his fight against Anakin because he focuses on how everyone is responding to him, and misses that Anakin and Palpatine are beginning to build an alternate alliance right under his nose.  Obi-Wan ultimately wins his fight against Anakin because he allows the Force to shove him around, and sets aside his concern with both his own life and that of his best friend while fighting for the greater goal of peace.

Not only that, but Obi-Wan’s understanding of the Force moves beyond that of most Jedi.  He compares “the will of the Force” to “the will of gravity,” in essence stating that simply because it is beyond human comprehension doesn’t mean it doesn’t have its own rules.  One can be a Jedi without needing to understand the Force in the same way one can be a pilot without needing to be a physicist.  In RotS, we see that his refrain of “search your feelings” is a way of calling on a Force user to be mindful enough to accept realities that are already evident, if one can only allow oneself to have that knowledge.

Stover also uses these competing perspectives — allocentric and egocentric — to explain why the Jedi Order falls.  The tight control the Order exerts over the Jedi moves them away from the will of the Force and toward the will of the Council.  Its insularity creates a sense of superiority, which is the reason so many Jedi fail to see their clone troopers as threats until it’s too late. Stover tweaks the Jedi Purge scene to emphasize that the only reason Obi-Wan and Yoda survive is because of their selflessness.  Obi-Wan takes the time to befriend his alien mount, repeatedly confirming her well-being, and then she shields him with her body when his troopers open fire.  Yoda respects the Wookie command and puts himself in a position to assist rather than lead the resistance movement on Kashyyyk, meaning that when a fight breaks out between him and his troopers the Wookies don’t hesitate to side with him.  Yoda and Obi-Wan are the only two Jedi who truly give themselves to the service of others, and thus they are the only two to survive the Purge.

...and the million little favors this book does for the movie.

During the opening battle, having Obi-Wan tell Anakin to “use the Force” to fly a narrow trench and having Anakin roll his eyes at such an obvious suggestion.  It’s a callback to A New Hope, but one that drives home how much more the Force is integrated in the lives of Old Republic Jedi than it is in the lives of Imperial kids like Luke.

Fixing the minor continuity error from Episode III to Episode IV — why would Admiral Motti dismiss Vader as following outdated superstitions if there were millions of Jedi within his lifetime? — by explicitly stating that the Sith are considered a dead culture.  Ergo, Vader’s “ancient religion” isn’t the Force in general; it’s specifically the Sith creed.

Making Palpatine scarier and more seductive than he is in the movie.  Stover’s rhetoric about killing even the Jedi children is frighteningly rational and coherent, and he uses it to give Palpatine some stomach-churning speeches while corrupting Anakin.

Using the novel format for all it’s worth.  Stover skims over the physical-comedy elevator sequence in favor of having Dooku and Palpatine discussing their plans for the war.  He only tells us about Anakin’s conversation with Yoda after the fact, in scattered flashes as a panicking Anakin runs through the halls of the Jedi temple.  He gives us intense focus on Anakin’s mindset while trying to land the broken halves of Invisible Hand, less on what the ship itself is doing.  He cuts away from Anakin and Obi-Wan’s final battle, toward R2D2 and C3PO as they struggle to drag a dying Padmé into her ship out of a desperation to find some small way to help her.

Revealing that Palpatine spends the entire story trying to kill Obi-Wan.  This gets hinted at in the movie, but Stover includes several moments throughout Palpatine’s “rescue” from Dooku when Palpatine sets Obi-Wan up to die, and mentions like eight other attempts on Obi-Wan’s life as orchestrated by Palpatine.  It’s a great character addition, that Palpatine assumes he cannot get Anakin to fall unless he first eliminates Obi-Wan.

Expanding Padmé’s role in the movie (set dressing, and later refrigerator filling) by having her secretly organize and launch the Rebel Alliance right under Vader and Palpatine’s noses.

Those are just examples of how Stover clearly knows the Force, gets the Force, and strives to make the Force more internally coherent.  How he sometimes translates, sometimes preserves, and always improves the pacing and tone of the film.

I haven’t even touched on the FUCKING AMAZEBALLS imagery or introspection in the book yet, but this post is getting wicked long, so I’ll go ahead and leave it here for now.  Point is, all y’all should go out immediately and get a copy from your library and/or used bookstore, because Nonny is right and it’ll change your life.

[lilymanaged]

got the right stuff (to fix you up)

as promised, a little bit of smut for your sunday evening. I also just reached 2000 followers (wow!) so thank you all! to the anon who messaged me the other day, this is for you! I hope it is to your liking! 

also yes this was supposed to be my jilytober contribution and yes it is largely unedited because I hate reading my own work, thanks for your patience! 

ao3  

“Potter!” she shouted, accent veering toward her mother’s Irish in her frustration. Slamming the door to the prefects’ office behind her, Lily whirled around to face the room, seething.

James was seated at the head of the table, sweater off and tie loosened around his neck, bent over a piece of parchment, quill scratching on a spot about halfway down the page, glasses sliding down his nose slightly. Lily scoffed, crossing her arms, shifting from side to side trying to get his attention, but James just kept writing, seemingly ignoring Lily’s raised voice.

But he wasn’t, and she knew it. Oh, she knew it.

The right side of his mouth twitched after a minute, tilting up to the semblance of a smirk, and the hand that had been holding his quill was now flat on the table in front of him, fingers lightly drumming against the flat surface.

“Well,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “I think that’s enough for tonight.” Lily just stared at him, raising an eyebrow. “What can I do for you, Evans?”

She let out a frustrated sound, releasing her arms to throw them in the air. “James Potter, I swear to Christ!”

James looked up at her, smiling widely. “Yes, darling?”

“I cannot believe you!”

“What did I do?”

“You know what you did!”

“If I told you it wasn’t me, would you believe me?”

“No,” she said, voice tight. His smile widened, and she felt her anger dissipating. Stupid, handsome dickhead.

“Then I won’t say that,” he responded cheekily. “I will say that you look lovely with your color up, though. Forgot how pretty you are when you’re mad.”

“It’s very important to me that you know I dislike you very much right now.” Her retort had half the heat in it that she originally intended, and she kicked herself for giving in so fast. “Please know that.”

“Message received, Lily.” His smile was now a full-blown grin. He stood, walking over to her slowly, hands buried in his pockets. Stubbornly, Lily held her ground, recrossing her arms and digging her nails into her biceps in an effort to keep a hard glare on her face. Then, she remembered.

“And Snape!” she shouted. “That foul, evil, horrible man!”

“Can’t fight you on that,” he said, now standing right in front of her. James reached out to her cautiously, and she pushed him away, instead passing him in order to pace down the room. James sighed, crossing his arms and leaning against the door to watch her.

“You just couldn’t leave well enough alone!”

“You know I can’t.”

“I swear, the two of you are going to be the death of me. Next time this goes on, I am locking you both in a broom closet until you figure this out.”

“I refuse to snog Snape, even if it would make you feel better, pet.”

Lily stopped her pacing to turn and glare at him over her shoulder. “James, this is not the time for jokes! I am mad at you!”

“Oh, I am well aware, love.”

“Then why must you be so flippant about this? You could have seriously hurt each other! Why must you be so reckless and arrogant all the time?”

“Lily, stop.” His voice was stony all of a sudden, commanding, stopping her in her tracks. She turned quickly to look at him. James had pushed himself off the wall to stand straight. His arms dropped to hang loosely at his sides, but his shoulders were tense, pulling the white school shirt taut across the expanse of his chest. “For the love of all that is dear, stop pacing, and listen. Are you angry at me, or were you scared something bad was going to happen?”

Lily stood frozen by the far end of the table, stopped on a dime. She nodded noncommittally, words suddenly stuck in her throat, which seemed impossibly dry for some reason. She swallowed, a useless effort to make the words unstick. It was futile, it seemed; even her breath was catching as she unsubtly watched James’s chest as he breathed, rolled his shoulders back, shifted his weight forward. Her eyes snapped to his face, a seemingly impenetrable mask, as he dragged his eyes over her disheveled uniform and flushed face.

As soon as she had heard what had happened, she had rushed to get dressed, throwing her clothes on quickly and haphazardly. Her shirt was only half tucked into her skirt, and she hadn’t bothered with tights, instead pulling on the first knee socks she could find before stuffing her feet into her shoes. She had forgotten her sweater and her tie, and she suddenly felt naked under his gaze without the extra fabric.

Meeting her eyes, James took a purposeful step forward. Lily responded by taking one back, suddenly very aware of the small room, the limited space. The intensity that had filtered into his hazel eyes, bright and magnetic. He took another step and then another, and Lily held her breath, backing away as his smile stretched across his face, predatory, hungry.

In a blink, he had her crowded against the wall, standing a breath away. Lily shivered, but she didn't know if it was from the cold stone pressed against her back through her thin shirt, or the filthy way James’s mouth had tilted up as he took in the flush spreading across her cheeks and down her neck.

“Anger or fear?” he said quietly, leaning in so that his mouth brushed against hers.

“Anger,” she said, and she closed her eyes as she heard the way her voice shook unconvincingly.

“Are you sure?” The smirk was evident in his words. Oh, she wanted to smack that smirk off his face. She hated that he knew her so well, had caught her so easily.

She hated that she liked being here, pressed against the wall by James Potter, breathing the same breath as him, anticipating his touch on her skin.

“No.”

His smile widened again, and he finally took her mouth with his, kissing her slow and deep, passionate and demanding she follow him. His hands landed on her waist, pulling her hips off the wall and toward his body, wrapping her up in his warmth and scent. Her shoulders were still pressed to the stone wall behind her, emphasizing the blaze of heat racing through her, his hands trailing up from her waist to her back and shoulders and then into her hair, and then, finally, resting on her cheeks, tugging lightly to angle her head higher until she was completely in his grasp.

A moan escaped from her throat, and Lily felt James smile against her lips. “Still mad?” he asked, pulling away only enough to ask. His mouth was brushing against hers lightly, and he leaned in to nip at her bottom lip when she didn’t respond.

Her world narrowed to just the two of them, a cocoon of warmth not coming from the fireplace blazing somewhere beside them, giving in to the unique comfort he was providing her, and allowing the kiss to melt her anger, her fear, her frustration and anxiety and the aching, terrible feeling that everything they had, everything she loved would just disappear on her.

The war raged on outside the walls of Hogwarts, but inside, in this castle, in this firelit room with James, she was safe.

She pulled back to look him in the eyes. He was gazing down at her, searching her in question at her sudden silence. “James,” she said, finding her voice, pleading, “please kiss me again.” Though it was a polite request, it came out like a question. Her hands shook as she slowly peeled them off the wall to run up his torso and settle on his chest, fingertips lightly pressed to his collarbones hidden under the school-issued shirt. “Please, James.”

James let out a long breath, chuckling as he pulled her face closer to his. “Yeah, Lily, of course, my sweet girl, come here.”

This kiss was shorter than the previous, sweet like honey as he held her close, hands softening as his thumbs caressed her cheeks reverently. James dropped small kisses to her lips, murmuring sweet nothings between each, holding her close and easing the tightness in her chest. Lily leaned into him, gliding her hands over his chest to sit on his shoulders and hold him closer to her, relaxing her posture until the tension bled from her shoulders. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, molding every inch of her body to his.

James smiled against her lips, kissing her long and sweet and slow. “Better, love?”

Lily nodded.

James kissed her once more, capturing her top lip before trailing kisses over her cheekbones and around to her ears and neck, featherlight brushes. His hands fell from her face, running down her neck and arms to rest at her waist again, intense but light, ghosting over her. Lily shivered against him again, pressing herself into his space, silently urging him to hold her tighter, kiss her harder. James laughed lightly, nipping her earlobe. “Something you need?”

She whined, high and needy at his teasing tone. “Come on, James.”

“Come on, Lily,” he mimicked, kissing the spot behind her ear. “Use your words.”

Instead, she sighed against him, tilting her neck to give James a better angle.

“Nuh-uh, Lily, you can do better than that. Tell me what you want.” His lips brushed against the shell of her ear, sending tingles down her spine and yanking a moan from the back of her throat. He continued, kissing and licking until he reached the base of her neck. He sucked lightly at the pale skin there, easing her body back against the wall. His hands boxed her in, giving her no escape.

“More,” she said, breathless. He grinned against her shoulder, wicked and vicious, biting down as she pressed her breasts against his chest. He ground his hips into hers in response, bringing one hand down to cup her thigh and hitch her left leg around his. Her head fell back against the wall as she gasped, feeling his hardness pressed against her like that. James nipped at her neck again, bruise already forming on the sensitive skin.

“More of that?” he asked, pulling away to blow lightly at the abused skin.

“Yes,” she gasped, arching her back, impossibly close. “Please.”

“As you wish,” James said, smiling against her neck. He dropped the hand keeping her pressed against the wall to her hip, using the hand on her thigh to hoist her up. Lily shrieked a little, frantically clutching at James with her hands and squeezing his waist with her thighs as he lifted her off the ground. She wrapped her legs around him tightly, and his hands came around to support her by the bum. James brought his mouth back to her, kissing her hungrily, and ground into her, new angle sending shivers down her spine. She could feel all of him against her, and the few layers of fabric that separated them suddenly seemed too many. Lily lifted her own hips slightly, chasing the heat and friction. James groaned into her mouth, hands gripping her bum in a teasing squeeze, pulling her closer.

“Cheeky,” she murmured against his mouth.

He chuckled breathlessly. “You haven’t seen anything yet.”

James shoved them away from the wall, holding Lily tightly to him as he walked them away from the cold stone and toward the long wooden table. Carefully, he deposited her at the head of the table, right in front of the seat he had been sitting in before she came in. It seemed like it had been hours ago that she was so angry at him, so compelled by her feelings to search him out and berate him for his carelessness and lack of forethought. In actuality, it had probably only been twenty minutes since she had found him sitting in their office space, calmly working.

Lily’s mind reeled as she unhooked her legs from around James’s waist, allowing herself to be dragged to the very edge of the finished wooden surface, shirt untucked and legs spread. James’s hands skimmed up the top of her thighs, under the hem of her skirt, pushing it up until it was solidly around her waist. Carefully, he pressed her thighs further apart, stepping into the space there and leaving her feet dangling toward the floor. His fingers, long and muscular, gripped her tightly, thumbs lightly stroking the inside of her thighs as he kissed her deeply, pressing into her space until they were pressed together in every way, Lily’s arms thrown around his neck to keep her balance.

After a moment, James pulled away slightly, nipping at Lily’s bottom lip lightly and untangling her arms from around him. He took her hands, bringing them down to her sides, and placed them slightly behind her, forcing her to lean back slightly, almost casually, as if her lips were kiss-bitten and swollen, and her clothes weren’t dishevelled.

“James,” she said, looking up at him suspiciously. James stepped slightly away from her, hands returning to her legs, this time resting on her knees. His fingers tapped a few times against them, and he hummed in response to the question in her voice. He took another step back, looking Lily full in the face. “What are you doing?”

He smiled at her, wide and dirty, and winked, then dropped to his knees in front of her with a slight thud. Lily scrambled to sit up straight, look down at him, ask him again what he was doing, but he just shushed her, urging her to relax back onto her hands again, and slid his own up the inside of her thighs again.

“Let me take care of you, I’ve got you,” James said, blowing a breath of hot air against the crotch of her damp panties. “Okay?” he asked, looking up at her from the floor, pupils blown wide in the firelit room. “Are you gonna let me take care of you?”

“James, I - “

“Hey,” James said, leaning up into her space. “I’m right here, I’ve got you. Let me take care of you. Okay?”

Lily let out a long sigh, trying to force her heart to slow down, and nodded. “Okay.”

“Okay.” James said, kneeling back down. “Lean back on your hands, and relax.”

Lily nodded again, closing her eyes and focusing on James’s hands on her thighs, his breath heavy and hot against her as he leaned back in. His nails scratched lightly at the sensitive skin of her inner thigh, and she bit back a low moan, shifting her weight to clap a hand over her mouth.

“Hey, no, none of that. I want to hear you.” Lily whimpered in response, biting her bottom lip as she replaced her hand. “Yes, there you go, good girl.”

With a satisfied smirk, James leaned forward, hands pushing her legs apart more, stretching her to the point of a hint of pain, displaying her wantonly for his eyes only. Lily’s head fell back as he mumbled out a low, deep “beautiful” and dove in, tongue licking a slow, long stripe up the center of her cotton panties, nails biting at her thighs. His hands shifted again, toying with the top of her panties, but not removing them, skimming calloused fingers across soft skin, as he softly circled the bundle of nerves at the cleft of her, creating a friction between her heated, sensitive clit and the cotton of her panties. Lily’s hip rose involuntarily, desperate for some sort of relief, but James’s hands anchored her down, at his mercy completely.

“Relax, love. I got you.”

Lily all but cried as his fingers curled around her panties, dragging them slowly, torturously slow, down her thighs and over her still-present knee socks and school shoes. James sat back, taking his time, eyes locked on her as he peeled the thin material away, tossing them onto the floor behind him. “So beautiful, love, stay right like that.” He leaned back in, nipping and sucking at the crux of her thighs before he returned to her clit, pressing his lips in a soft kiss right to the most sensitive part of her. “You’re so lovely, Lily, my lovely Lily, let me take care of you.”

Lily moaned, arms shaking as she struggled to keep herself held up, thighs shaking as James continued his ministrations, licking and sucking and kissing. His hands held her steady, open, and Lily allowed herself to drift, eyes closed. She focused all her attention on the moment, zeroing in on the pleasure slowly taking over her entire body, dragging her closer and closer to the edge, away from the overwhelming emotion of just an hour before, when she couldn’t help but drown in the fear and the anger and the anxiety.

James ran his hands up her thighs again, only to hitch one over his shoulder, allowing him to pull her impossibly closer to his mouth. Lily cried out, fingers scrambling on the wood as James redoubled his efforts, taking her clit completely in his mouth and suckling, tongue making quick, almost brutal circles that sent her hurtling toward her release.

“James, I’m...I -”

He shushed her again, holding her hips tightly as he alternated back to long languid licks, easing her back toward the floaty place in her head, anchoring her with his hands. “Focus on me, Lily, I’ve got you.”

As if she could possibly focus on anything else but this moment, this boy, the sensation of the hard, wooden surface against her now bare bum, the scratchy wool of her skirt rucked up around her waist, his hands gripping her so tightly it was dimpling her thighs, the cool metal of his glasses against her heated skin, the mesmerizingly steady pace of his tongue against her, dipping into her folds and swirling around her clit, holding her just barely at the precipice and causing her blood to run hot beneath her skin.

Slowly, he returned his efforts to just her clit, tightening his passes until it was his sole focus, narrowing her pleasure until she was panting and sighing, wriggling against his mouth despite his hands gripping her tightly, trying to hold her still.

Lily whined, falling back onto her elbows with a loud thump as James pulled away slightly, nosing along the crease where her thigh met her pelvis, yanking her abruptly back to earth. “What’s wrong, Lils? You okay?”

“Please don’t stop, why would you stop?”

James chuckled, kissing lightly. “I’m sorry, did you need to cum?”

“I was going to, you jerk,” she countered, head lolling back dramatically.

James nipped at her clit in response, causing Lily to cry out as a shock ran through her. “That’s quite uncharitable of you, Miss Evans.”

“I hate you so much right now.”

“Oh, darling, you definitely do not.” He stood abruptly, knocking her leg off his shoulder to fall with a light smack to the smooth surface of the table, ripping a needy sound from her throat. He leaned into her space, using his free arm to pull her up and into him. “Besides,” he drawled, nosing against her neck, blazing a fire up to her ear. “You’re going to cum on my cock.”

Lily whimpered, hands catching behind her again to steady herself as he pulled her toward him, hands resting on her bum, drawing her nakedness against the front of his trousers, still buttoned and belted. She moaned at the delicious friction, canting her hips up to rub herself against him, wetting the wool slightly. James groaned, pushing against her, rolling his hips in a tease of the inevitable. The differences in their state of dress made her head whirl, and she suddenly felt incredibly naughty, bare under her school skirt, legs spread wide for her co-Head. She shivered, breath hitching, and James bit down on her ear, blowing a breath of cool air against her heated skin.

James ran his hands up her body, catching up her untucked shirt, starting to unbutton it from the top, opening the white shirt until it pooled around her, caught around her wrists. He hummed against the skin of her neck, sucking at the bruise that had already darkened to a deep purple at the base of her neck, skimming his thumbs over her hardened nipples lightly, teasingly, through her plain, baby pink bra. Lily arched up into his hands, canting her hips again as he pushed a little harder, gasp leaving her mouth. He chuckled against her, dropping a final kiss to her throat before bringing his hands back down her body to her bare stomach, the top of her skirt, and down her splayed thighs.

“Are you ready?” he murmured, mouth against her lips. She nodded, eyes focused completely on his, wide and frantic. His pupils were blown, and he panted against her mouth before reaching down to quickly unbuckle his trousers, letting them fall open while still pressed against her. He drew away only slightly, pulling himself out of his pants without taking them down, and lining up with her. He skimmed the head against her a few times, gathering moisture, and her eyes fluttered closed. Steading himself with one hand over hers, he lined himself up, pressing in just enough for the head to catch, before he pulled one of her legs up and over his forearm, forcing her open even more and tilting her hips up slightly.

In one, slow, dirty, hard thrust, he slid into her completely, entering her in one fell swoop. She cried out against his mouth at the deep stretch, revelling in the way it took her breath away, the hard slide, the wicked, wet sound of the two of them meeting, the slight twinge of pain as she opened to accommodate him. James groaned against her mouth, capturing her lips in a sloppy kiss as they panted against each other. His hands held her tightly, pinning her down, leaving her completely to his mercy once again, unable to meet his thrusts or give herself any reprieve. Lily lost herself to the feeling, giving herself over completely to James’s torment and pace.

“Gods, Lily, you feel so good, so tight for me, so wet. Alright, darling? Yes, pet, just take it. Close your eyes, feel me inside you, fucking you. That’s what you needed, isn’t it? I’m right here, I’m right with you, you needy thing. Not going anywhere.”

Her orgasm, previously just an echo, was coming back quickly as James drove into her, hard and fast, hitting deep inside her with each measured, purposeful, deep stroke. Her toes curled in her shoes, flexing as she felt herself being dragged toward the razor thin cliff. She moaned against James’s mouth as he adjusted her hips up the slightest bit, sliding even deeper inside of her until she tumbled off the edge, squeezing around him as she came. Her brain entered the floaty space she was craving, focusing everything on the way James’s strokes became erratic as she came down from her orgasm, on his mouth brushing against hers, murmuring compliments, hands coming off the tabletop to hold her against him, making sure she didn’t fall. James groaned as her internal muscles tightened around him another time before she sank against his front, forehead pressed against forehead, boneless and weightless and spent.

“Oh no, sweet girl. I’m not done with you yet.” He said, pulling away. Her forehead fell to his shoulder, and she hummed an acknowledgement at him. “Lay back, Lils.”

Lily whined, but allowed herself to be guided back until she was laying splayed across the conference table, legs dangling off the edge, spread to accommodate the man between them. He leaned over her, kissing her deeply, motionless inside her as she came back to herself.

“With me?” he asked, pulling away to look her in the eyes, searching. Lily nodded, smiling up at him serenely. “Very good,” he said, sounding pleased. Lily flushed, arching her back at the praise, warm and sated.

“You’re so gorgeous, Lily, so good for me. Can you handle a little more?” Again, she nodded, propping herself up on her elbows so she should kiss him, sweet and slow.

His hands boxed her in, holding her to the table top, and he began a long, deep rhythm, rolling his hips and grinding, causing little shocks of afterwaves to zip through her every time friction hit her clit. Slowly, James built up, moving incrementally faster until he was shoving himself up completely to a standing position, snapping his hips to hers at a brutal pace, holding tightly to her hips as he drove into her. Lily fell back completely, laying prone, hands fisting in her discarded shirt as she whimpered at the pleasure-pain of the quick, deep, hard thrusts shaking her body.

After what seemed like an impossibly long moment, James leaned over her, bringing a hand to her mouth, running calloused, hard fingertips over her lips until she opened slightly. He dipped one, then two fingers into her mouth, teasing over her tongue until Lily took them into her mouth. “Suck,” he said, voice breathless and tight, trying to maintain control over himself while he exerted control over her. “C’mon, Lily. Just a little more.”

She obeyed, running her tongue over the two digits greedily, grateful for something to take her mind away from the growing heat in her abdomen, the deep-rooted pleasure starting to spread toward her toes. James zeroed in on her mouth, thrusts losing some of their power as he watched her take his fingers beyond her lips, his own mouth slackening slightly.

“Okay, enough.” he murmured, easing his fingers out of her mouth. Immediately, he brought them to the cleft of her, using them to draw tight circles around her clit as he pressed into her, urging her toward a second release before he had his first. Lily gasped out, eyes closing tightly as she arched up and into his hand, mind cloudy with pleasure once again. James chuckled as her hips bucked, seeking more friction, chasing the dizzying feeling of him pressed up tightly inside her and his fingers working her over.

It was overwhelming and intoxicating, and Lily felt like she couldn’t breathe right as she fell over the edge again, this time long and languid rather than sharp and fast.

James released her clit from his attentions, instead squeezing her hips tightly, bruisingly, as he thrust into her, searching for his own release. With a groan, he withdrew from her, hand quickly stripping his cock once, twice, three times, cumming on the bare, smooth skin of her stomach.

Panting, James crawled on top of Lily, holding himself over her as he kissed her lazily, sloppily, before rolling over to lay next to her, tucking her half-naked body into his side.

It was a familiar gesture after almost four years together, one that still brought Lily immense happiness and comfort, just being held close to him.

Around them, the room melted away, stone walls replaced by the deep red of their dining room in Godric’s Hollow. The chairs were askew, and the paper and quill James had been using were now decorating the rug rather than the cold, grey stone of the Hogwarts Prefect’s Office. The only thing that remained was the fire lighting up the room.

“Feeling any better, darling?” he asked her, nose burying itself in her red hair.

“Yes, actually, I am,” she said quietly, eyes closed. After a long beat, she rolled over to face him. “Thank you. I know that was probably weird for you.”

“Lily, anything for you, you know that,” he responded, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “I’m glad it helped. And I cannot say I particularly minded. You know how I feel about the skirt. And the shoes. And those bloody knee socks, Merlin’s own,” he said, leaning down slightly to run his hand over the grey wool still neatly decorating her calves.  

Lily rolled her eyes, pulling away slightly to shoot him a cheeky grin. “That was an impressive bit of magic, Mr. Potter. I appreciate your effort to the cause.”

“I’ve had some time to practice. You know, always be prepared, and the like.”

“So now you’re a Boy Scout?”

“I can be anything you want me to be, Mrs. Potter.”

“Cheeky,” Lily laughed, poking a finger into his cheek. He leaned down, nipping at it before she could retract it, causing her to giggle and squirm away.

Above them, a cry rang out. Lily sat up immediately, smoothing her ruined skirt, making a face at the mess on her stomach.

Shooting an evil eye over her shoulder, she slid off the table. “You’re basically completely dressed. You go handle that while I clean up.”

James nodded, coming to stand beside her. With a short kiss on her mouth, he departed, jogging his way up the stairs, humming a tuneless diddy as he went to go care for their son. Lily rolled her eyes again, pulling her shirt uselessly over her shoulders, before heading to the bathroom to pee and shower.

Outside the cozy, hidden walls of the Potter cottage in Godric’s Hollow, the war raged on, bloody and vicious and terrifying. But inside, Lily had James and Harry, and a little bit of dirty magic to keep her safe and warm.

Remember two things, kids: (1) if you wanna get kinky, always negotiate the scene/play with your partner beforehand as to ensure safe, sane, and 100% consensual sex; and (2) always pee after sex.

[andypantsx3]

in cinders | 3 | obfuscations

pairing: Todoroki Shouto / Reader

length: 24,362 words / 9 chapters

summary: You’re just trying to fairy godmother your best friend into a happily ever after. If only the prince would stop hanging around and cooperate.

tags: cinderella AU, prince!Shouto, romance, misunderstandings, reader-insert

warnings: aged up characters, eventual smut

The dress in question belonged to Lady Camie Utsushimi and you hoped she wouldn’t get close enough to notice.

It was a deep blue, almost black in certain lights, and though it wasn’t as fine as Ochako’s gown, it looked like the kind of thing that wouldn’t be out of place in a room full of nobility. In the scant hour you had to prepare, you’d done your best to temporarily alter it, quickly pinning the neckline into a different shape and ironing on spare silver ribbon lifted from Mina’s workrooms.

You’d cut a simple silver mask from the same ribbon, hurriedly stitching around the holes for the eyes and tying off the back with a thinner length. It wasn’t your best work, but then you didn’t intend for anyone to get close enough to take note.

While in Mina’s workroom, you also helped yourself to a scrap of pink ribbon and a pearl button, looping the ribbon through the eyehole to create a simple kind of a necklace. It would look too good with Ochako’s dress to pass up. You made a mental note to feed Mina more pastries in apology.

Back in your rooms, you and Ochako quickly washed down with a rough bar of soap of the type that all the palace servants used. It wasn’t as fine or perfumed with flowers like the ladies’ soaps you often caught passing through the corridors to be delivered to their rooms. It smelled vaguely of the olives that had gone into its production, but at least you smelled clean.

Once dressed, you and Ochako stole down the servant’s passages, taking care to avoid anyone carrying trays to the feast. At a quarter past the candlemark, you crept into the hallway that descended into the ballroom from an onlooking balcony. As agreed, Kaminari had left his post open for the spare minutes you needed to get inside.

“It’s not too late to back out,” Ochako whispered as you pressed open the hidden door leading into the back of the hall. The peerage was still being announced at the entry and you wouldn’t be noticed as you came in.

You grabbed her wrist and pulled her through the door, into the brightly-lit grandeur of the ballroom. At once, you were overwhelmed by the sights and smells of the reception. Bright dresses of every color dotted your vision like spots, their wearers combed and rouged to high perfection. Trays littered the tables at the fringes of the room, piled high with cheeses and sweetmeats and the other labors of Rikido’s love. At one table on the far end of the room, you spied the famous soba noodles.

All around you, the nobility swirled like currents on the sea.

“Wow,” Ochako breathed, sounding just as dumbfounded as you felt. “It’s even more than I thought it would be.”

Something pleased curled in your chest, happy you could give this to her. Even if she didn’t bag her prince at the end of the night, it would be worth it to hear the note of wonder in her voice and see her happily spinning among the party’s guests.

Speaking of Prince Shouto, you peered around in search of his tall figure. As the announcements of noble entries tapered off, you spotted your target in the corner of the room. It was hard to recognize all the courtiers in their elaborate masks, but you knew that head of distinctive red and white hair.

“What do you say you take your new dance skills for a spin,” you said, catching Ochako’s wrist again and pulling her through the splendid crowds.

She followed sedately, right up until she caught on to where you were going.

“Y/N, that’s him!” she hissed, “I can’t go over there.”

You pretended you’d conveniently lost your hearing. “What?”

“I said, I’m not going over there,” she whispered again, furiously. “I can’t look him in the face, what if he doesn’t -- oh hello, your highness! Mr. Midoriya!”

You stifled a laugh, dropping into your best approximation of a curtsy.

“Your highness,” you said, shoving Ochako in front of you. “It’s wonderful to meet you. I had hoped you might grace the Lady Uraraka with a dance. She’s quite new to court, you see.”

The man in question stared down at you, dual toned eyes burning into yours. Up close, you could see he was even more handsome than you had thought, his unusual eyes, sharp nose, and the fullness of his mouth only emphasized by the cut of his dark mask. He wore a doublet in a blue color only one shade lighter than your own gown, and the high points of his starched collar curved up towards his sharp jawline.

Over his shoulder, his valet Izuku Midoriya perked up, dressed in a green that matched his riot of curls.

“I’ve not heard of the Uraraka family,” Midoriya said, dropping into a bow. “It’s wonderful to make your acquaintance.”

Ochako seemed to blush to the roots of her hair at being addressed. “Oh, we’re um. We’re new, as my companion has said.”

Prince Shouto seemed to remember his manners as well, turning to Ochako. “Welcome, Lady Uraraka.” His heterochromatic eyes flicked over her face and he seemed to search for something to say. “I must compliment you on your choice of jewelry. Your necklace is quite unique and beautiful.”

You smothered a grin, proud of your efforts. She had his attention! Time to make your exit.

You bent your knees in a quick curtsy again. “Well, I must take my leave. I’d promised an acquaintance to find her. Please take good care of my friend.”

With that, you all but dove into the crowd, leaving Ochako at the mercy of the prince and his attendant. If the prince had any conscience at all, his chivalrous upbringing would compel him to ask her for a dance. From there, Ochako's inherent loveliness would do all the heavy lifting.

Once you were sure you were out of their sight, you looped around to one of the refreshments tables, intent on getting your evening’s worth out of Rikido’s cooking. If you had to be here, this would definitely beat the scraps you’d intended to scarf down by yourself. You planned on eating ten plates worth as you watched over Ochako from the sidelines. With the luxurious thickness of Lady Utsushimi’s skirts as cover, you might even be able to sneak twice your usual supply back into your room for later.

You were piling your plate high with barely-disguised glee when an elegant hand was held out in front of you. Your eyes followed an arm up a stylish sleeve and into the face of Camie Utsushimi herself. You froze, serving fork hanging from your fingers.

“L-lady Utsushimi!” you cried, quickly abandoning your plate. You swept into another curtsy so fast you heard your knees creak. “It’s a pleasure!”

Camie considered you with an unreadable look on her delicate features. Up close, her face was so symmetrical and pretty it almost made your eyes burn.

After a moment of uncomfortable silence, her features relaxed into something like geniality.

“I’m afraid I don’t know your name, Lady…?”

You panicked. You hadn’t planned on being addressed. Before you could stop yourself, you blurted out the first name you could think of.

“Kamiko. I’m, um, from the Ito family.”

Fuck, what were you doing giving her Kamiko’s name?

“Well met, Lady Ito." Lady Utsushimi smiled. "I must tell you that I quite like your dress. I have one just like it! It appears our tastes are quite similar, and I found myself thinking that I must make your acquaintance.”

Internally, you were screaming. Did she recognize it for her own dress? What game was she playing? Was the king’s guard going to march in here any moment and separate your head from your shoulders?

You forced yourself to calm down. “I thank you, my lady. That is a high compliment coming from you.”

She regarded you. “Do you know me? I’m sorry that I cannot say the same - I don’t believe I know of your family.”

You waved a hand dismissively. “Oh you wouldn’t! We’re, um, from the outlying provinces. We don’t really, uh, get to court much.”

Lady Utsushimi gave you a toothy grin. “Well I’m glad you could make it for Shouto’s birthday. Everyone seems to have turned out.”

You found yourself seizing on the opening she left, desperate to get the subject off of you. “Do you know the prince quite familiarly? You call him by his given name.”

She laughed. “Oh yes, Shouto and I are old friends. I only turned up tonight to give him some company should he need it. He hates these things.”

You turned back to the ballroom, searching out the prince’s mop of hair. You found him easily enough, but were startled to see a distinct lack of Ochako on his arm.

A panic seized you.

“Um, forgive me, Lady Utsushimi. I seem to have forgotten something. I’ll just--um, I’ll be right back.”

Without waiting for her response, you plunged back into the fray of courtiers, beelining straight for the prince.

Emerging breathlessly as though from a cold river, you stumbled almost straight into him. Forgetting yourself entirely, you blurted, “Where’s Och--uh, Lady Uraraka?”

He looked at you, seeming startled. “Pardon, Lady…?”

You waved him off, “Oh, don’t worry about me. Just tell me where Lady Uraraka’s gone to and I can be on my merry way.”

He turned to look at you more fully, something curious alighting in his gaze.

“Forgive me, but is it not rude to address your liege lord without the proper respects?”

You froze, blood feeling like it was icing over in your veins. “I--of course, your highness, please forgive me for any offense. I’d only wondered--um, where my friend had gone.”

You hoped desperately that your disguise as a noblewoman stood between you and the gallows.

A smirk played at the corners of Prince Shouto’s mouth.

“I believe she is with Mr. Midoriya at the moment.”

You looked up at him in shock. Was he playing with you?

“Oh, um, thank you. And where might Mr. Midoriya be at this very minute?”

His smirk widened into something dangerously close to a grin. “I do believe I’m owed a name before I will tell you.”

Fuck. Don’t give out Kamiko’s again--

“I don’t have one,” you blurted, then winced.

Prince Shouto stared at you, something a little like disbelief creeping over his features. “You don’t have a name? That’s the first time I’ve heard something like that. Tell me, are you trying to make yourself interesting?”

You flushed. “There is absolutely nothing interesting about me, I can assure you--” nothing that a royal would find interesting anyway, unless they cared about the best kind of soap to lift grease stains from a pan -- “if you could point me in the direction of your valet, I won’t take up any more of your time.”

The prince stepped nearer to you. This close, you could feel the heat coming off of his left side and smell something fresh like mint, underlaid with the tang of saddle oil and leather. His proximity went straight to your head and you took a step back, feeling dizzy.

“I will take from you a dance, then, in place of a name,” he said. His gaze burned into yours like a torch laid to a pyre.

These nobles sure asked for a lot you couldn’t give.

“Um, I’m afraid I’m not much good at dancing.” You groped around for any excuse, taking another slow step back. “I've been told it's as if I'd never learned! Lady Uraraka, though, is a wonderful dancer. I’ll be sure to add you to her dance card when I find her.”

You moved to leave, but a rough hand on your waist stopped you.

“I must insist,” the prince said, “I’ll refresh you, if you are as unpracticed as you say. You would not deny your prince on his birthday, would you?”

You regarded him suspiciously, noting the wry twist at the corner of his mouth. He was being too obnoxious not to be obfuscating. Was there some reason he wasn’t letting you follow Ochako and Midoriya?

“Your toes will pay the price for this,” you intoned, “I assure you I am not being modest.”

Prince Shouto smiled and steered you towards the floor where a dance was already underway. “Perhaps. I will be the judge of that.”

This man had no idea what he was in for.

In the interest of spending as little time in the stocks possible, you did your best to minimize the damage to his toes. You still found yourself trodding on him more often than not though, confused by the many steps and the spritely movements of the couples around you. It became clear very quickly that you had not been lying to him.

Soon enough, the prince leaned down to put his mouth to your ear. “Stand on my boots.”

You pulled back to look at him in befuddlement. “What?” you asked, stupidly.

He tugged you closer. “Step up onto my boots. No one will notice with your long skirts. I will lead you through the dance.”

Your heart pounding in your chest, you did as he asked. This had the effect of bringing you much nearer to him than was proper, and you noticed that even standing on his boots, you tucked neatly under his chin. You hid your face in his strong shoulder, feeling your face turn pink, hoping desperately that he noticed neither your blush nor the messy stitches of your mask.

“So you were not being modest,” he laughed when you’d spun another few rounds, this time with much less difficulty. You could feel it rumble in his chest. “I, too, would guess you had never learned.”

You cringed. “One of many faults, your highness.”

A calloused thumb smoothed your back. “You do not have a name and you do not dance. What do you do with your time?”

Scrub pots. Wash the vegetables that go into your supper. Clean the fireplaces.

You wracked your brain for something suitable to tell him. What did noble women do that men found duller than dirt? What could you give him that he would not ask more about?

“Embroidery, your highness. I am skilled with a needle and thread.”

“With that mask?” he huffed a soft laugh. “Tell me honestly.”

“Well,” you declared, nose feeling hot, “what do you think I do?”

Prince Shouto looked almost delighted by the question, the blue of his left eye shining at you through his mask.

“Let’s see. You write to the Lady Uraraka, seeing as you are such good friends--”

You nodded. Writing, that was something that ladies could do.

“--and you make your own soaps--”

You looked up at him, startled. “What?”

He leaned into your hair, and you could feel him take a deep breath. Your mind felt like it was melting a little. “Your hair, it smells faintly of olives. Most ladies order florals. I’ve never smelled anything like this before.”

Well, it’s not as though he went around sniffing the help every day. All the same, he was too observant.

“Um, what else?” you prompted, trying to reroute him.

His right hand fell from where it clasped yours to gently encircle your wrist. “And you alter your dresses after they’re ordered for you. Do you not find the current fashion satisfactory?”

To your horror, he plucked at the loose silver ribbon you’d ironed on to the hem of your sleeve. It came away easily, clutched in his long fingers.

You opened your mouth to reply -- though what you might have said was a complete mystery to you -- when a blur of pink and green came rushing at you.

Ochako popped up almost between you and the prince, Izuku hot on her heels.

“Your highness,” Izuku sketched a quick bow, “my apologies for interrupting, but your father has need of you.”

Prince Shouto’s hand tightened on your back for a moment, then fell away as he stepped out of your space.

“I see,” he said quietly. He bowed deeply towards you. “I will look for you later, Lady No Name.” And then he was gone, followed closely by his green-haired valet.

Ochako gaped. “Y/N! That was--!”

You hissed, grabbing her hand and rushing off the dance floor. “I know! We have to get out of here before he comes back.”

She looked at you in concern and you held up the sleeve where he had pulled off your ribbon. “Another couple minutes and he’d have figured me out.”

Her eyes grew round with distress. “Do you think he--?”

You shook your head. “Not if we leave now.”

She nodded, and led the way out of the great hall. Once back in the halls of the castle, the two of you ducked towards the doors to the servant’s hall, stealing quietly through the drafty passageways. You kept to the shadows in the kitchen, creeping carefully down the short staircase that led to your shared room.

When you’d finally made it inside, you let out a deep breath, peeling out of Lady Utsushimi’s dress and stowing it carefully under your pallet to return to the laundry rooms at your earliest opportunity.

The two of you changed and collapsed into bed, laughing wildly at the night you’d had. Ochako wouldn’t share more than a word or two on where she’d gone with the prince’s attendant, but you guessed she might have rushed off too embarrassed to dance with the prince and Izuku may have followed to make sure she was well.

Still, it was clear she’d loved being able to go to the ball in her pretty dress, and you smiled, thrilled that you could have given that to her.

Eventually, she stilled, the sound of her breathing becoming heavy. You eventually drifted off as well, feeling the ghost of the prince’s hand at your back and his breath at your temple.