#and i will simply measure the shots with my heart

[wonderlandcrown]

𝑆𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑑𝑎𝑦 𝑀𝑦 𝑃𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑐𝑒 𝑊𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝐶𝑜𝑚𝑒

𝑉𝑖𝑙 𝑥 𝑌𝑢𝑢(𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟)

a/n : book 5 spoilers, also Vil didn't know Jamil overbloted until book 6. reader is gn and referred to as "Yuu, the prefect, you, they/them pronouns"

genre : light angst, romance(pining)

༶•┈┈⛧┈♛💜♛┈⛧┈┈•༶

Someday my prince will come Someday I'll find my love And how thrilling that moment will be When the prince of my dreams comes to me He'll whisper, "I love you" And steal a kiss or two Though he's far away I'll find my love someday Someday when my dreams come true

Vil was reluctant to stay in Ramshackle during VDC, "A messy room equals a messy mind", is what he tells his dorm mates. Though he understood that the prefect didn't choose to stay there, Vil Schoenheit was never a fan of unclean spaces.

But Vil had bigger problems at the moment, Neige will undoubtedly show up for the competition, and his dream- no, his goal will be in jeopardy.

The headmage did say that the prefect was quite talented in bringing people together...

Fine then, if staying in a dingy dorm means having a chance at winning against Neige, he'll do it.

"How thrilling, " Vil thought, "will my moment of victory be."

Someday I'll find my love Someone to call my own And I'll know him the moment we meet For my heart will start skipping a beat Some day we'll say, "I do" Things we've been longing to Though he's far away I'll find my love someday Someday when my dreams come true

Vil noticed the scars around the prefects hands, undoubtedly the result of going through no less than 3 overblots, not to mention all of them happened under a year!

Vil scoffs, Crowley must be more incompetent than he thought if he allowed a poor defenseless student to get caught up in so much trouble; or is it Yuu who is careless?

He originally saw you akin to something like a pathetic wet cat : lost, clueless, naive.

Though he'll admit he was quite wrong, your occasional sharp jabs towards the trio of potatoes(Ace, Deuce and Grim) didn't go unnoticed by Vil. He thinks you're quite funny, you act so brazenly and sarcastic around your friends but around strangers you suddenly become quiet and well spoken, you remind him of the difference of his personalities on camera and off.

Though that's the only thing he and you have in common.

Vil remembers perfectly well the glare Yuu shot at him when he cursed the delicacies Trey gifted the younger spudlings. It was a necessary measure! You're smarter than your friends, you should understand that they would've tried to break away from the diet Vil gave them.

Vil doesn't understand, he doesn't understand those potatoes, didn't they agree to this? Don't they want to win? If they do they should listen to him, he knows what's best, he's been trained for countless competitions since he was young, these diets, these restrictions have been imposed onto him ever since then and they will be forevermore.

For them, it'll only be a moment before they're back to their normal lives, so why can't they understand? Vil understood ever since he was young, so why can't they?

He's been longing for the chance to stay on stage until the very last moment, so why can't Yuu just do what he says and help those idiots cooperate with him.

Vil pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs, he shouldn't dwell on unnecessary things for too long, lest he stray from his goal.

Somewhere waiting for me There is someone I'm longing to see Someone I simply can't help but adore Someone who'll thrill me forever

"Hey, uh, can we discuss something? "

It was already late afternoon, Epel had screamed at Vil and ran away from the dorm and one of your friends, Deuce, he remembers, ran after him. But they haven't been back.

He lets out a sigh, not bothering to hide his frustration.

"What is it?" Vil turns to face you, usually during the breaks between the VDC groups training, you pass around water bottles and some snacks(not cursed by Vil this time). Though this time you carry nothing, it's expected, the rest of the group only have a break because two of the members ran off to who knows where.

"I think you're being too harsh on them. " Vil scoffs, "Excuse me? They're the ones being too careless, they're not serious enough. " Vil glares at you, nose scrunched. You betray his expectations, really, he expected you to be more mature about this.

You only look at him in the eyes as a response, he notices your tense frame, you must've been planning to tell him this for a while now.

"..Epel ran away." Vil lifts an eyebrow, "And? Are you just here to state the obvious?" He hears you click your tongue, you're irritated with him? Why must you be so mean to him, prefect, all he wants is to win, is that so much to ask for?

"Look, I understand your efforts, what you do to achieve your dreams is commendable, really, "

Dreams? How dare you use such a childish word, the Vil Schoenheit doesn't dream, he has no time for that.

"but you need to realize that not everyone can handle, well, you. We want to win, obviously but uh, you're already so accustomed to this type of stuff but we're not.."

Hm? Oh, prefect, you're flattering him, so you're saying that he's so glamorous to the point that the normal spudlings can't even begin to compare?... Vil's kidding obviously, but the compliment has made him more inclined to listen to you.

"Dear prefect, I may see your point.. Though you must realize that diamonds are created under pressure, and the headmage has been far too lenient." You sigh, brows furrowed, "Tell me about it.. Again, you're not wrong, there are limits. Even the seemingly strong gems can crack if they have internal flaws."

My, isn't this new.. Prefect, it's been quite the long time since someone dared to question him, in such an interesting way no less.. Most people either agree with no objections or slander his views vehemently (Rook and Epel, Vil's looking at you) Congratulations are in order for managing to intrigue Vil of all people.

You're confused on why Vil's smiling, so.. fondly at you, did you do something wrong?

"Prefect, if you don't mind, how do you feel about joining my nightly routine tomorrow, I think you have many interesting topics to share with me."

Someday my prince will come Someday I will find the one Though he's far away he'll find my love someday Someday when my dreams come true Oh, please make my dreams come true

"The winner of VDC is.. ROYAL SWORD ACADEMY, LED BY THE ONE AND ONLY NEIGE LEBLANCHE!"

The crowd cheers endlessly, Vil feels his heart grow heavy with that same, twisting, horrendously ugly feeling of envy. His feet feel like they're on fire and Vil has to pretend the camera flashes are irritating him in order to blink back the tears.

It's ok, it's fine, the loser has to fall and Vil feels like he's been plummeting since then, now, and perhaps forevermore.(please don't let it be so)

It's even worse when Neige pulls him into an encore, his hand pressing on one of the bruises on his arm, a scar gained from his overblot. But Vil's heart only winces when he thinks of you, he thinks of your scars, you must have so many, you've been through so much..

Vil is so, so sorry, he wants to cry and beg for your forgiveness, for Rook's, for Epel's, for everyone's forgiveness. What he did was so stupidly immature, how could he just betray his own expectations, everyone expected Vil Schoenheit to be level headed, mature, and beautiful. So why? Why must he be everything except that?

Everything after his overblot was a blur, really. He thought his career would go up on smoke, everything he worked for would've been gone. Vil stared at his phone, waiting for a ping from his manager, informing him that his overblot, his weakest moment, was leaked for the whole world to see. Vil sits at the vanity, normally he would be staring into his reflection, but now he can't even bear the thought of looking at the mirror.

Suddenly he was met with a knock on his door.

"I'm not expecting visitors, if it's not urgent then go find Rook, or the prefect."

"Vil, I am the prefect."

Vil immediately sits up right, brushing away the few strands of stray hair, before inviting you in. "Come on in."

You quickly slip inside his room, closing the door behind you with a click, Vil tilts his head, usually he would never do this, unbefitting of the mature image of Vil Schoenheit, but since it's you, he finds himself at ease without putting on his performative mask. "I see you want privacy, is it personal?"

"Yeah, I.. wanted to see how you're doing. " Vil doesn't hold back the bittersweet smile, "You really are kind, don't worry about me, you should've ran away when you saw me overblot, why didn't you?"

Why didn't you? You should've ran away the moment you saw blot dripping from his lips and eyes, yet you stayed, you stayed during his overblot and all the others. Vil wants to know, how is one person so caring yet sarcastic, so plain yet so interesting, so normal yet.. Vil feels like he's never met someone like you before.

"Why didn't I? What kind of question is that, the better question is how could I leave a friend during his weakest moments?"

See? Caring yet sarcastic, Vil giggles at your response, "You should know when to stop helping people, dear. One day you'll get irreversibly wounded and there's nothing I could do to help you at that point." Vil's tone is light, though he feels an aching sensation when he imagines a fatally wounded Yuu.

You sigh, taking a step closer to Vil, "I'm not that weak, so don't think of stuff like that." The housewarden of Pomefiore only gives a tired smile, plain yet so interesting, he thinks. You're a magicless being somehow willed with such tenacity that befits the values of the Beautiful Queen, Vil might be inclined to take a few lessons from you.

It takes a while before Vil notices you're staring at him, you look at him as if you were looking at a poor, caged animal. "..Is there something else you want to tell me?" You don't respond, you only continue to look at him, at his clothes, at his hair, then you stare at him in the eye.

Vil feels a lump form in his throat, you're looking at him in such a humane way, not the lovesick expressions usually adorned on his fans, not the scowls of jealousy from the haters. You look at him as if you see something beyond the masks he wears.

Unlike what most people think, Vil Schoenheit actually has two masks, one he adorns when the camera rolls, which from there he has many others to choose from. The second he wears to retain the strict and regal image of Pomefiore, the one who rules this dorm with an iron fist, where he is both hated and loved.(not that much different from his career)

But you, you're looking at none of the two, he never saw anyone else other than his own father and Rook wear this expression. Someone who sees beyond what is presented to them.

"You're tired." Vil finally hears you say something, "I'll go draw you a bath." Your words were authoritative and left no room for arguement, it reminds Vil of himself. As the actor watches you walk into his bathroom he feels a warm sensation course through him, it's been quite the long time since he was the one on the receiving end of these affections.

No, affections is too intimate a word, but Vil can't think of any other way to describe it.

You can't see his expression now, prefect, but do know that you made Vil Schoenheit of all people cover his face to hide his blush and smile. So normal yet Vil's never met anyone else like you.

Vil hears the sound of water flowing coming from the bathroom, he hopes you finish your task soon, Vil has never felt what yearning for another's presence was like until now.

Vil already has his hunter and poison apple, so tell him what you'll be? What role will you take on to complete the Beautiful Queen's camaraderie? Will you be his raven, dutiful, working from the shadows; or his mirror : showing him what you see, beyond what Vil presents himself to be.

Vil shall wait for your answer, prefect.

♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬

a/n : someday my prefect will come - vil schoenheit. first fanfic tbh, there were pacing issues but I don't think it's that bad for a first timer. reblogs are appreciated

edit : chapter 2(not a continuation of this) is out now, go on my blog and search the tag "the songs of love", also you can tell me in the reblogs or comments if you wanna be tagged for chapter 3

[vanteguccir]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤSAILOR SONG * MATT STURNIOLO

SUMMARY　::　where Y/N and Matt have a comfy indoor date; baking together.

FEATURING　Matt Sturniolo x reader　REQUESTED?　yes.

WARNINGS　::　making out.

AUTHOR'S NOTE　::　that is my work, I DON'T authorize any form of plagiarism; copy, "inspiration" or translation! | english isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

'I saw her in the rightest way'

The kitchen was an absolute mess, a delightful, chaotic swirl of ingredients strewn across the counters, flour dusting the air, and the aroma of vanilla mixing with the sound of their favorite playlist softly drifting in from the living room. The afternoon light streamed through the windows, casting a warm glow over the scene as Y/N stood at the counter, carefully measuring flour into a white-ish ceramic bowl. Beside her, Matt was leaning against the counter, his eyes fixed solely on her, watching her with an intensity that could have melted chocolate.

"Okay, so you just, like, throw the flour in, right?" Matt asked, breaking the comfortable silence, reaching for the open bag with the kind of reckless enthusiasm that spelled disaster.

Y/N’s eyes widened, her hands instinctively darting forward to stop him.

"Wait, wait- Matt, no!" But it was too late. A poof of flour erupted like a mini explosion, covering both of them in a soft, powdery cloud.

Matt froze, blinking through the haze, and then burst into laughter, his shoulders shaking.

"Oops." He said with that boyish grin of his, the one that made Y/N’s heart do a little flip every time.

She tried to glare at him but failed miserably, laughter bubbling up as she brushed flour off her cheek.

"You’re such a mess." She teased, shaking her head, her eyes sparkling.

"And yet, here you are teaching me." He shot back, eyes crinkling at the corners. "Guess that says something about you, huh?"

"Yeah." She said with a mock exasperated sigh. "That I’m a hopeless romantic who thinks you can actually learn how to bake."

Matt just grinned, leaning in to steal a quick kiss on her flour-dusted nose, making her scrunch it up adorably in response.

"Alright, lover boy." Y/N said, shaking her head with a smile. "Let’s try not to blow up the kitchen, okay? I need you to grab the sugar next."

"Yes, ma’am." Matt replied, snapping a playful salute before turning to rummage through the cupboard. He managed to grab the sugar jar without spilling anything this time - progress, she thought with a fond smile.

They continued to work side by side, the kitchen filled with the sweet scent of vanilla and sugar. Y/N would occasionally reach out to correct Matt’s technique, her touch light but effective. Every time their hands brushed, Matt would flash her that lopsided grin that always made her cheeks warm. She tried to stay focused, but with him being so close, so effortlessly charming, it was a losing battle.

At some point, they both reached for the vanilla extract at the same time. Their fingers tangled, and Matt shot her a playful look.

"Hey, who’s the baker here?" Y/N teased, nudging him aside with her hip, her laughter light and teasing.

"I don’t know, I don't see them anywhere." He joked, pretending to search around the room, making her roll her eyes though the grin on her lips was impossible to hide.

They kept mixing and measuring, Matt’s enthusiasm both endearing and chaotic. Just when everything seemed to be going smoothly, he made his biggest blunder yet. He grabbed the baking soda and dumped a generous amount into the bowl, not bothering with a measuring spoon.

"Matt, no!" Y/N gasped, her eyes wide with horror. "That’s way too much! You’re going to ruin the batter!"

Matt looked from the bowl to her, then back at the bowl, his eyes comically wide. But instead of panicking, he simply shrugged and started laughing, his laughter so infectious that Y/N’s frustration began to dissolve.

"Matt, I’m serious." She groaned, burying her face in her hands. "This was supposed to be perfect, and now they’re going to taste like-"

"Hey, hey." Matt said softly, reaching out to gently pull her hands away from her face. "Come here, sweetheart. I'm sorry, yeah?"

Before she could protest, he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her into his warm embrace. Y/N sighed, trying to hold onto her annoyance, but the way he was looking at her - with that soft, adoring gaze - made it nearly impossible.

As if the universe was observing them closely, te next song on the queue started playing, and when Matt realized that it was one of their favorite - Sailor Song by Gigi Perez, obviously - his body started swaying gently, bringing her with him.

"What are you doing?" She asked, trying not to smile, her voice softening as her hands found home against his biceps.

"Distracting you." He said, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. "Is it working?"

Y/N tried to stay annoyed, but the tenderness in his eyes melted her defenses.

"You are so ridiculous." She said, but her words were softened by the smile that tugged at her lips.

"Ridiculously in love with you." He murmured, resting his forehead against hers. "Can you forgive me?"

Y/N’s heart fluttered, and she let out a soft, defeated sigh, leaning into him fully.

"Fine." She whispered, her voice barely audible over the music. "But you’re still fixing the batter."

"Deal." He said with a grin. And before she could pull away, he spun her around in a quick twirl, eliciting a surprised, joyful laugh from her, her apron flowing around her body.

As she came back into his arms, breathless and giddy, her eyes met blue soft ones, shaking her head.

"You really are something else, Mr. Sturniolo."

"And you love me for it." He replied, leaning in to press a soft kiss to her forehead. He lingered there, breathing in the sweet scent of her hair, the warmth of her against him.

"Yeah." She said, her voice barely more than a whisper. "I really do."

With the playful moment fading into a comfortable silence, they returned to the counter, side by side once more. Y/N sighed dramatically, surveying the batter that was now slightly too foamy from Matt’s over-enthusiastic addition of baking soda.

"Okay, let’s see if we can salvage this." She said, her voice taking on that determined tone Matt found so adorable.

"How bad did I mess it up?" He asked, a wince escaping his lips.

"Not too bad." Y/N admitted with a small, fond smile. "We can balance it out with a little extra flour and sugar."

"Got it." Matt said, nodding eagerly as he grabbed the bag of flour, waiting for her instructions.

They worked together to fix the batter, Matt actually listening this time, his focus unwavering as Y/N explained what to do. After a few minutes of adjustments, Y/N dipped her finger into the batter for a taste test. Her eyes lit up in pleasant surprise.

"Hey, it’s actually good!" She exclaimed.

Matt’s face broke into a proud grin.

"See? I knew I could fix it." He said smugly.

"Mm-hmm." Y/N hummed, rolling her eyes playfully. "Pretty sure I did most of the fixing."

"But it was my idea to fix it." He countered, leaning in to press his lips against her warm cheek.

"Alright, let’s get these in the oven before you mess up anything else." Y/N said, lifting the tray carefully.

Her fingers were nimble as she adjusted the rack, carefully placing the cupcake tray into the preheated oven.

Matt couldn’t help but stop for a bit and just stare, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed, his eyes never leaving her. There was something about watching her work, so effortlessly absorbed in what she loved, that made him feel as though the entire world had slowed to a gentle stop just for them.

It wasn't his fault. He reasoned to himself. It wasn't his fault he found everything she did so endlessly endearing, so worth watching with that starstruck gaze that his brothers teased him about. The way her brows furrowed in concentration, her fingers dusted with flour, her lips pursed slightly as she adjusted the oven dial; it all made his heart swell.

Y/N stood up, wiping her hands on her yellow apron and closing the oven door with a soft clink. She turned to grab the timer, only to notice the way Matt was staring at her, eyes sparkling with that familiar, dazed expression. He looked as if he were lost in a dream, his gaze so soft it made her heart skip a beat.

Feeling the heat rise in her cheeks, she tilted her head slightly and smiled shyly.

"What?" She asked with a soft laugh, setting the timer up. "Do I still have flour on my face?"

Matt didn’t answer right away, his eyes never wavering from hers. It was like he was in some kind of trance, completely mesmerized. After a few seconds, he finally blinked, his lips curling into a soft smile.

"Yeah." He said simply, his voice so low and gentle it made her stomach flip.

Before she could ask where, Matt stepped forward, closing the distance between them in a few strides. His hands found her waist, pulling her close. Y/N’s breath hitched, her eyes widening slightly as he leaned in, his breath warm against her skin.

"Right here." He dipped his head and began to trail soft, lingering kisses along her jaw. His lips brushed tenderly against her skin, and with each kiss, he pulled a soft, breathless giggle from her lips. The sweet sound made him smile against her cheek, his eyes closing as he continued his path to her chin, and then to her cheeks, where he left playful kisses that were so light, they were almost ticklish.

"Matt." She breathed out, half-laughing, half-sighing, her hands coming up to rest on his chest. Her fingers traced slow circles over his shirt, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath the fabric.

He paused, hovering just above her lips, so close that she could feel the ghost of his breath on her mouth but not quite touching her. His eyes were locked on hers, and there was a playfulness mixed with adoration in them that made her knees feel weak. He knew exactly what he was doing, teasing her like this.

"Matt." She repeated, her voice a whisper now, filled with a hint of impatience.

"Yeah?" He murmured back, the corners of his lips twitching upwards.

Y/N narrowed her eyes at him, her lips twitching as she tried to suppress a smile.

"Kiss me properly." She demanded, her voice barely above a whisper.

'Oh, won't you kiss me on the mouth and love me like a sailor?'

He chuckled softly, his eyes never leaving hers as he leaned in just a fraction more, brushing his lips against hers, still not quite giving in. But Y/N, never one to be outdone, closed the remaining distance, pressing her lips to his in a soft, sweet kiss that sent warmth blooming through her chest.

Matt’s arms tightened around her waist, pulling her even closer as their kiss deepened, slow and unhurried, like they had all the time in the world. Y/N’s hands wandered from his chest to his biceps, squeezing slightly at the firmness there, before sliding up to his shoulders and finally into his hair. She tugged gently, earning a soft sigh from him that she could feel warming up her face.

Their lips curved into smiles as they kissed, each touch and movement so full of affection it made Y/N’s heart feel light. Matt blindly started to sway their bodies again, following the slow rhythm of the indie song, his hands exploring the small of her back, fingers spreading wide as if he wanted to memorize every curve.

Y/N sighed into his mouth, her fingers threading through his hair, and for a moment, it was just the two of them, no kitchen, no baking, just the soft, sweet connection between their lips and the feel of each other’s warmth.

But the intimate moment was abruptly interrupted by a sudden, loud DING! from the oven.

The sound made Y/N jump slightly, pulling away from Matt with a startled gasp. Matt couldn’t help but laugh, the joyous sound filling the kitchen as he pressed one last, playful kiss to the tip of her nose.

"Guess that’s our cue." He said, still chuckling as he gave her a quick eskimo kiss, their noses brushing together.

Y/N laughed, shaking her head as she gently pushed him away.

"Goofball." She muttered affectionately, her cheeks still flushed.

Reluctantly pulling away, Matt released her from his embrace, giving her one last, lingering look before letting her turn her attention back to the oven. Y/N leaned down to peer through the glass, her hands resting on her knees as she checked the cupcakes.

Matt watched her from behind, unable to resist the fond smile that tugged at his lips. The sight of her brows knitting together as she inspected their work made his heart swell.

"They look perfect." Y/N announced, turning back to him with a triumphant smile.

"All thanks to you." Matt came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and resting his chin on her shoulder. "I love baking with you." He whispered, his voice soft and sincere.

"Even if you’re terrible at it?" She teased.

"Especially because I’m terrible at it." He replied, pressing a kiss to her cheek. "Gives you more reasons to stick around."

'And we can run away to the walls inside your house'

© vanteguccir

[fangswbenefits]

A Series of Firsts

𓂅 𓄹 Summary: You and Miguel are ready to become parents and you must now go through a series of firsts together.

𓂅 𓄹 Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x spider-woman!reader

No warnings. Just pure fluff. Mentions of pregnancy. Dad girl Miguel. Protective dad Miguel.

First Kick

“What colour should we have on the walls?” Miguel asked one day.

“Beige?”

“Boring.”

“Red?”

“Too much.”

“Red and blue?”

“That’s too… spidey.”

You giggled at his remark. “We’ll just pick a neutral one and let her decide as she grows up.”

“That’s settled, then,” he murmured, resting the side of his head on your baby bump as both of you lay comfortably on the bed.

“Fingers crossed for a zebra pattern in purple and green,” you teased.

“She can have whatever she wants,” he said simply and you knew he meant it.

Warmth spread in your heart, realising Miguel would give her anything she’d ask for. Even the moon.

As you rolled a single strand of his hair around your finger, you gasped abruptly and halted.

Miguel shot up straight in full alert mode. “What is it? Are you okay?”

You nodded, running both hands along your belly, waiting to feel it once more.

He immediately picked up on the meaning of your sudden silence and placed a splattered hand next to yours.

It didn’t take long for a second kick to be felt and you watched his face awe. “Does it hurt?”

“No,” you whispered adoringly at his concern.

He paused briefly. “That was a strong kick.”

You placed your hand atop his. “She’ll take after you, then.”

First Time Meeting

Jessica placed the little bundle of joy into his arms as soon as the spider-nurses were done checking the vitals and dressing her.

“What is this?” Miguel asked with a light scowl, shifting to have the sleeping baby face you.

Even through your post-labour exhaustion you managed to giggle.

She was dressed in a red and blue suit-like onesie that had Peter’s face printed onto the fabric as rainbow coloured words read ‘my 1st spider suit’.

“Remind again me why we let him choose.”

“You know how Peter is,” you said softly. “It’s a very cute gift.”

“Right.”

Miguel didn’t seem all that convinced, but brought her back against his chest protectively.

You watched as Miguel’s hardened face immediately softened in adoration and, for a couple of minutes, he just stood there, rocking her lightly in his arms.

“She’s… tiny,” he concluded, fingers probing around her hand. “She’s perfect.”

He raised her slowly up to his face and he planted a soft kiss to her forehead, earning a sudden yawn.

“Welcome home,” he whispered to her, completely transfixed. “I’ll always protect you.”

Something inside you stirred. This big grumpy man with volatile moods had just been disarmed by a tiny baby.

That was definitely a sight to behold.

First Sleepless Night

“We’re not having another baby.”

“Agreed.”

“Ever.”

Miguel let out a measured sigh in agreement. “Ever.”

The two of you lay sprawled across the large bed, facing the ceiling as the first rays of sunshine began to lit up the room.

Your daughter had finally fallen asleep after hours of fighting against it, nearly driving both of you crazy in the process.

As you readied yourself to slide off the mattress, you felt Miguel’s hold on your wrist stilling you.

“Don’t move,” he whispered. “Please.”

You groaned inwardly. “I need to go pee, Miguel.”

Sleepy and bloodshot eyes met yours. “It took us hours to drain her energy… hold it in for a while,” now that was a desperate tone if you’d ever heard one from him.

You heaved a long and heavy sigh, feeling his thumb gently rubbing at your pulse point in sheer gratitude.

“Yup. No more babies, O’Hara.”

“Maybe one more?”

You shot him a death glare and he swallowed hard.

“… or not.”

First Scare

You paced around the apartment, having already lost count of the amount of baby monitors that Miguel had spread all over the place.

“This is a bit too much, no?”

Miguel was checking on the sleeping baby through the orange-tinted screen of his dimensional travel watch when he turned to glare at you like you had just said the most abominable thing ever.

“You can never be too careful,” he said in disbelief.

It was to be expected, really. Miguel was always obsessed with security no matter the context, so you couldn’t really say this surprised you.

“Even the watch?” you asked in awe.

“Of course. It’s a looped system that transmits directly to both our watches,” he said with a nod. “Any alteration in her bedroom trigers an alarm.”

Ever the scientist.

His eyes dropped to the hologram on his wrist and he let out a gasp.

“What?”

“She’s gone!”

Your heart nearly collapsed as a feral Miguel immediately set himself on all fours towards her bedroom, clawing at floor.

“Miguel!” you called after him in a hurry.

Once you reached the open door, you were presented with Peter holding your daughter as Mayday chuckled happily, seated on his shoulder.

“Peter!” Miguel growled, yanking your daughter from his hold and bringing her close to his chest defensively.

“Miguel! We were just paying a visit,” he chuckled. “Cute baby, by the way,” he turned to you with a smile and a flick of his fingers.

But Miguel was having none of that. “Out!”

Mayday stuck out her tongue at him right away, a habit she had yet to let gonof whenever Miguel was around.

“Lyla, why wasn’t the alarm triggered?”

The AI appeared by his shoulder at once, filing her nails. “You forgot to activate the security system, boss.”

First Word

“Pa~pá! Say it. Paaa~pá!”

“Cheater!” you exploded as you entered the kitchen in large steps.

Miguel turned to face you as your daughter giggled.

“We promised to let it be something spontaneous,” you lifted an accusing finger at him. “Cheater!”

He lifted both hands defensively. “I’m just giving her some help.”

In truth, you weren’t upset with him in the slightest. He had been such a constanr presence in his daughter’s life even through an exhausting amount of work around Nueva York.

You feigned indignation crossing your arms across your chest.

Miguel picked her out of the baby chair and walked towards you with a tentative smile.

“I’m sorry.”

Your front broke right away as he leaned to nudge his forehead against yours. “You’re still a cheater,” you accused, not able prevent your lips from curling into a smirk.

“I’ll make it up to you.”

Your daughter started clapping enthusiastically. “Petaah~” and then burst into laughter.

Miguel looked down at her in shock. “What?”

It was almost comedic irony that the first word your daughter said was Peter, which had Miguel sulk for a couple of days.

First Steps

You missed kissing Miguel with no interruptions. Having some alone time in between taking care of your daughter was not easy to come by.

So whenever there was an opening, you’d both make it count.

He had your back pressed against the cold surface of the bedroom wall in no time, framing your face with both hands to deepen the searing kiss.

You melted into his touch right away, yearning for more.

Miguel broke the kiss momentarily to check his watch, panting lightly. “She’s still in the living room.”

You sighed in relief as he took your lips in his once more, hungrier this time. Both of your hands were resting on his firm chest, enjoying the way his muscles rippled under your touch.

Miguel hummed into you, swallowing your gasps and moans.

Your eyes were about to flutter shut when you detected movement out of the corner of your eye.

Panic took over and you immediately pushed Miguel away with a yelp.

Standing by the door was your daughter, gripping the frame with tiny hands, barely able to keep her balance.

Miguel offered her a kind smile. “Hey, you… come here.”

Your heart was hammering hard in your chest as you struggled to even your breathing.

She broke into an amused chuckle, wobbling in Miguel’s direction as he dropped to one knee. “Come here,” he encouraged.

But she would only take a couple of steps before her legs gave out under her to have her sit on the floor.

This was evidently very amusing as she kept trying to mimic her first attempt in between laughter

Miguel exchanged a proud smile with you and, for the first time in a long, you didn’t mind being interrupted.

Masterlist

[whizzing-fizzbee]

Show Me What Love Is

(Sequel to "This Is How It Starts")

Sebastian Sallow x Reader (Female MC)

Rating: Explicit 18+, MDNI (shameless smut, profanity), all characters are 18+ Words: 7,356 Themes: friends to lovers, shameless smut, fluff and smut

Summary: In the weeks after your breakup with Andrew Larson, you and Sebastian Sallow waste no time making up for lost time. But it's impossible to study for your N.E.W.T.s when you can't keep your hands off each other.

Notes: I had so much fun writing "This Is How It Starts," I needed to write a continuation. I recommend reading that first. Just more shameless smut. Loosely inspired by "Happiness" by The 1975.

I promise to ease up on the shameless smutty one-shots and focus on my chapter fics now. I'm probably lying.

Read on AO3 or below the cut.

“I heard she dumped Larson because he’s a virgin.”

“No, I heard it was because he didn’t quite… measure up to Sallow, if you know what I mean.”

“Wait, I thought she was hooking up with Gaunt now.”

A snort escaped before you could suppress it. If the rumors hadn’t been so ridiculous, you may have found them insufferable. Instead, you and Sebastian Sallow were currently cozied up in a secluded corner of the library, where you – and your classmates – were supposed to be studying.

Sebastian clapped a hand over your mouth to stifle your laughter as he fought to conceal his own. He had you pinned against the bookshelves, his body pressing yours against the rows of wood and bound pages as you struggled to remain quiet. Shielded by bookshelves, the two of you had decided to postpone your study session for a quick snog.

It had been two weeks since your breakup with Andrew Larson, and the Hogwarts rumor mill was still churning. Given that you didn’t hide your new romance with Sebastian, whispers spread like wildfire through the castle walls. And while you weren’t particularly happy about them, you didn’t really care.

Because for the first time in months, you were satisfied. My god were you satisfied. 

You and Sebastian had wasted no time making up for lost time. Your relationship with him fulfilled you in ways Andrew couldn’t have even considered, physically and emotionally. 

Despite all the sex you and Sebastian were having, your bond had strengthened and you found yourselves falling easily into the routine of a seasoned couple. Sure, the early stages of any romance were always more fiery, more passionate, more electrifying, but the two of you seemed to have cemented yourselves in each other’s hearts for the long run. 

With both of your feelings out and in the open, there were no more secrets or unspoken words. You and Sebastian were simpatico; two people who were content in simply spending time together – though most of that time was spent in various states of undress, engaged in salacious activities.

As your giggles subsided, Sebastian smirked, dipping his head to kiss your neck. He smelled like the cinnamon you’d watched him sprinkle in his tea that morning. The sensation of his lips pressed against your skin drew a moan from your lips.

You froze, your wide-eyed gaze shifting sideways toward the end of the aisle as you and Sebastian held your breaths. When no one seemed to have overheard your indiscretion, Sebastian shot you an amused smirk.

“You’re going to have to learn to be much quieter if we’re going to stay here,” he murmured.

“It’s not my fault!” you hissed. “You know my neck is a sensitive spot.”

“Precisely why I did it.”

“You’re cruel.”

“You’re not complaining.”

“I’ll burn your house down.”

Sebastian breathed a soft chuckle. “No need for such violence,” he hummed before he pecked an affectionate kiss to your forehead. “Besides, it’ll be your house too someday.”

Sebastian spoke of your future with such certainty, it was both thrilling and dizzying. You had no doubt he was the only person you’d ever want to spend your life with. You knew that long before the first time he touched you or told you he loved you. The two of you had far too much history, and now that you knew one another sexually, you had ruined your futures with anyone else for life. 

Now, Sebastian referred to himself as “We” – as in the two of you, a couple. His plans for graduation, your careers, your home, were your plans now. His future was your future and he wasn’t shy about letting others know.

But you still had three weeks remaining as Hogwarts students. Your N.E.W.T.s were set to begin the following day, which was the only reason you were standing in the library instead of romping around in bed like you’d done the previous night.

You knew your romance with Sebastian wouldn’t be perfect forever. Neither of you were perfect, and you certainly didn’t expect your relationship to remain that way. Sebastian could be impulsive, stubborn and downright stupid when it came to making decisions. You were snarky, ambitious and strong-willed. Your past friendship together was all the proof you needed that the two of you would inevitably have fights and shouting matches. But it was also proof that the two of you could overcome anything – especially if it meant the make-up sex would make it all worthwhile.

Yet as satisfied as you were, you were still insatiable. You couldn’t get enough of Sebastian, even though he’d been your best friend for nearly three years. But you were his girlfriend now, and that made you see him in an entirely different light.

You were his first real girlfriend. He’d never bothered to craft much connection or meaning to any of the girls he’d hooked up with in the past. You had always chalked it up to his short attention span and impulsive ways. You hadn’t known it was because he’d been waiting for you.

Today though, he was clearly tired of waiting. You’d spent the morning with your noses buried in books, seated at one of the long tables at the center of the library, until you felt Sebastian’s attention vacate his Astronomy notes. His stare fell on you; the way you softly sighed while you contemplated the spell theories in your book; the way you subconsciously chewed your bottom lip as you scribbled in your notes; the way the hem of your skirt creeped upward when you crossed your legs. 

He looked at you like you were the last piece of dessert he’d ever get to consume. He’d always looked at you like that, but you failed to notice until now. Only recently had you come to learn just how much power you held over Sebastian Sallow.

Now, you’d seen the way he whimpers at your touch; the way he grits his teeth and clenches his fists whenever you climax around him; the way his chest heaves when he watches you undress. But you also had seen the way he beams when he makes you laugh with a lewd joke; the way he always pours your morning tea before his own; the way he lets you steal all the blankets and covers at night, only to smile at you with sleepy eyes the following morning. You’d ruined Sebastian Sallow far more than either of you thought possible.

But now Sebastian had you pressed against those bookshelves, his hips guarding you from daring to move. He stood with one foot between yours as he leaned into a deep, slow kiss, the top of his thigh pressing against the apex of your thighs. Your hands gripped the front of his shirt, tightening with impatience. 

“Careful, darling,” he murmured. “You’ve already ruined two of my shirts.”

“I’ll ruin your life if you don’t fuck me already.”

He didn’t bother to bury his laugh this time. It erupted from his throat and echoed through the aisle, sure to draw attention this time. The two of you swapped a glance and Sebastian shrugged. He brandished his wand from his back pocket as he held your gaze, and with a fluid wave, cast a Disillusionment charm.

You quickly did the same, disappearing against the rows of books such as Sophronia Franklin came curiously wandering into the aisle. Once she was gone, you caught the glimmer of Sebastian’s outline moving toward the Restricted Section. You followed him quietly through the gate and down the stairs, a route you could navigate with your eyes closed after three years of illicit exploits.

Once you reached the storage room at the bottom, you and Sebastian shed your charms and hurried toward a desk that had been shoved against a wall. Without a word, you backed Sebastian into the desk and clung to his shoulders as you kissed him. His hands snapped to your waist, the melt of your curves triggering his arousal.

He groaned as you stepped closer, your hip pressing against his front to facilitate his erection. You were certain you’d never grow tired of the power you felt every time you made Sebastian’s best asset stand at attention.

You palmed his erection over his pants, dragging your fingers across his hard length. He hummed at the friction, his heavy panting exposing his anticipation.

Your hands fumbled with his belt buckle and zipper before you shoved his pants and boxers to the floor in a heap, his cock springing from their confines. You took it in one hand, your fingers circling around the shaft while you swiped a thumb across the tip. Sebastian twitched at the touch.

You watched him with glee, drunk on the way his jaw clenched and breath hitched. It was the most fun you’d had in ages. He couldn’t help but smile at your proud expression, a sign he was also aware of the power held.

“You’re evil, you know that?” he murmured. 

“You made me this way.” 

You pumped him steadily, his breaths increasing with your pace as he leaned backward against the desk. You tore your gaze from his blissful expression to examine his cock in your hands, the tip glistening with his arousal.

Dropping to a crouch, you guided him into your mouth, your hands gripping the backs of his thighs as you relaxed your jaw. Sebastian balled your hair into his fist as he gazed downward to admire you as you worked.

“I love you so goddamn much,” he growled. 

You hummed a reply that sent vibrations around his cock, forcing a groan from him. His tip hit the back of your throat and you squeezed your own thumbs into your palms as you held him there for as long as you could stand it.

When your throat released him, you sucked your cheeks in hard as your lips returned to stroking his shaft. The storage room echoed with the sounds of your sins, punctuated by Sebastian’s grunts and moans. His reactions to your hungry mouth piqued your own arousal, your knees parted as you remained in a squat. 

You couldn't help but drop one hand between your own legs, your fingers coating themselves from the pool that had gathered at your entrance. You dipped a finger inside yourself, the warmth of your own core a stark contrast to the cool air of the dark storage room. 

You used your own fingers to dig at your ache, though they didn’t feel nearly as good as Sebastian’s. You willed yourself to remain patient as you focused on his pleasure, knowing damn well he’d never fail to return the favor.

You removed your soaked fingers and used that same hand to stroke Sebastian’s cock, the new moisture earning a groan from him. The sight of it all – his cock covered in a cocktail of your arousal and spit – was overwhelming.

He dipped his head backward, his eyes squeezed shut as he tugged your hair tighter. You’d come to learn that as a sign he was losing control.

You replaced your hand with your mouth, the taste of yourself spreading over the flesh of his length as you flattened your tongue against Sebastian’s shaft. It dragged up and over the tip, tracing teasing circles around the head. 

Sebastian panted harder, his lungs laboring as he dared to open his eyes again. You met them with your own gaze, your eyes watching him with wonder and lust. The vision of your doe-eyed stare and his cock disappearing into your mouth made him whimper, a sound that made your own core throb. 

You flicked your tongue and Sebastian tensed. Your hollowed cheeks began to sting, but you quickened your pace, your nails digging into the backs of his thighs as you relaxed your throat to gurgle around his tip at a frenetic rate.

A sharp, sudden pain seared over your scalp as Sebastian lost control, his fist yanking your hair and his hips thrusting forward as he finished. His climax hit the back of your throat, thick and hot, as your head continued to bob in determination to drain him completely. He grunted as his orgasm subsided, his sensitive cock twitching the remnants of his seed over your tongue.

His cock fell from your mouth as you swallowed, one hand still pressed into the back of his thigh while he caught his breath. Meanwhile, your anticipation seeped from your entrance, soaking through your panties. 

You sank to your knees, tired from your performance and aching for your own relief. You glanced upward at Sebastian, who gazed at you affectionately through heavy eyelids. He extended a hand to you to help you to your feet. You rose slowly, the motion crafting more pressure within your core.

Sebastian pulled you into a slow, deliberate kiss. His hand ventured between your thighs as he reveled in the wet warmth surrounding his fingers. He pushed you up onto the desk, your legs dangling from the edge as he stood between them and paused to kiss you again.

“Naughty naughty, you’ll get caughty!”

You gasped at the sudden intrusion as Sebastian spun to look for the source.

“Peeves!”

The poltergeist hovered in the doorway, laughing as he took in the scene. You straightened and slid off the desk, smoothing your clothes in an attempt to salvage some dignity while Sebastian hurriedly pulled his pants up.

“Wicked little seventh years, how shameful you are!” Peeves declared, though his eyes appeared to be laughing. 

“Get out, you perverse fucking voyeur!” Sebastian snapped. Peeves cackled. 

“Peeves knows this isn't the first time Sebastian Sallow has defiled the Restricted Section. Peeves will miss all this fun once the naughty seventh years graduate! Consider this secret his parting gift!”

He disappeared through the wall, his cackles echoing through the stone. Sebastian uttered a groan of disgust while your heart rate recovered from the abrupt imposition.

You heaved a sigh when Peeves’ laughter had faded. “Well, I suppose we’d better get back up there in case he actually sends someone to check,” you said. Sebastian was clearly still annoyed, but flashed you an apologetic grin.

“Sorry, darling,” he said as he hooked an arm around your waist to pull you in for a kiss to your forehead. “I’ll make it up to you later.”

You held him to that promise as soon as you could.

---

Two days later, you and Sebastian relocated your study spot to a place that was much more private. The library was packed with students that day, including your ex-boyfriend who glared daggers at you the moment you walked in.

You felt bad for the way things ended with Andrew. He wasn’t a bad person but he’d been a bad boyfriend. He neglected you, dismissed your wants and needs and didn’t take you seriously. Still, he probably didn’t deserve the scene you caused when you broke up with him – not that it had been your idea. 

You had wanted to end the relationship quietly, but Sebastian practically skipped into the library with you on his arm minutes after you’d been moaning his name in the Room of Requirement. The two of you found Andrew sitting at that same study table and Sebastian marched you right up to him, where you told him the two of you were over. Then Sebastian paraded you into the Great Hall, you still wearing his sweater, where he didn’t bother to hide his affection for you during dinner. Afterward, you dragged him to the Undercroft for another round.

Sebastian found it hilarious when Andrew glowered at you in the library again, but you steered him back into the Central Hall to avoid any confrontation. You really did need to study that day. Your History of Magic exam was scheduled for the following morning and you were one of the many students who hadn’t paid much attention during class for the duration of the term.

But Ominis had banished you and Sebastian from the Undercroft for the week after he discovered the two of you in an obscene position the previous day. 

“The Undercroft ?” he had uttered in disbelief. “Is nothing sacred anymore?”

So today, you and Sebastian sat in the Room of Requirement, your stacks of spellbooks and scrolls scattered over a study table.

Sebastian had lost concentration ages ago. He twirled his wand in one hand while he watched you study. You’d already scolded him twice for being disruptive, and despite his mounting boredom, he knew your exams were important so he did his best to keep quiet.

After three hours of painfully mundane reading, you sighed and sat back in your chair, your eyes tired from straining over your textbooks.

“Ready for a break?” Sebastian asked eagerly. Your gaze drifted over his notes and you snorted as you studied the doodles and drawings he’d made on the edges of the parchment.

“Is that… Ominis?” you asked, squinting at one of the doodles.

“Riding a dragon, yes.”

You laughed and fiddled with your wand, appreciative of the comic relief. But Sebastian’s gaze had shifted and you immediately recognized the way his eyes were darkening with desire. They drifted to your chest, but you crossed your arms to obstruct his view.

“Sebastian…” you warned. “We need to study.”

“We’ve been studying!” he whined. “For three hours. Surely you could use a break. Wasn’t this the exact thing you were anguishing over just weeks ago with Larson?”

“Andrew went weeks without touching me,” you pointed out. “I just fucked you yesterday.”

“Feels like it’s been weeks.”

You rolled your eyes but crossed your legs beneath the table. You, too, were antsy with arousal, but were determined to assert your self-control this time. You’d given in to Sebastian every time until now – not that you’d needed any persuading. 

Sebastian leaned closer to you, his hand skimming the top of your knee beneath the table. He was challenging you. He knew your resistance was thin. But he didn’t know you were intent on affirming your power.

His thumb began tracing tiny circles against your thigh and you clenched your jaw. He seemed to notice the twitch in your facial expression because his puppy dog eyes lit up with amusement. Slowly, his hand snaked toward your entrance until two fingers gently brushed over the smooth fabric of your panties.

You fought to maintain a stoic expression, even as a finger pressed into your clit, but a hitch in your breath betrayed you. Sebastian smirked.

“No!” you said firmly as you snapped your knees together to force Sebastian’s hand away. “Sebastian, I want to study.”

“Judging from how wet you are, darling, I don’t think I believe you.”

You huffed an exhausted puff of air. “Okay, so maybe I don’t want to study, but I need to.”

“Do you need it as much as you need to come right now?”

Your eyes widened at his audacity, but you folded your arms in firm denial. “We can address that later,” you said, praying the pitch of your voice wouldn’t expose the filthy thoughts circulating inside your head.

But per usual, Sebastian saw right through you. He lounged backward in his chair, his legs stretched out as he continued to smirk. “You’re a terrible liar, you know that, darling?”

You scowled at him in annoyance and rose to your feet. A book in one hand and your wand in the other, you strode to the sofa that sat six feet away. Sebastian moved as if he were going to follow you, but you pointed your wand at him.

“Hey now! Watch where you point that thing!”

In one fluid flick, your wand emitted a milky haze of dancing white light. You cast a faint glowing line through the air between the table and the sofa until it stretched the entire length of the room. It glimmered and danced as you reached toward it with one palm open. Your hand recoiled against it, confirming that your barrier charm had worked.

Sebastian’s mouth fell open in protest.

“There,” you said indignantly. “Now there will be no temptations.”

“And just how do you expect to leave?” Sebastian demanded.

“The barrier should only last an hour or so, maybe even less. I think we’ll survive.”

Sebastian pouted in his chair as you settled onto the sofa with your book in your lap. You tucked your legs beneath yourself and continued your reading about the Warlocks' Convention of 1709.

In hindsight, choosing the most dreadfully boring subject to study while your boyfriend stared at you with bedroom eyes was probably a poor decision. Soon, your eyes glazed over and you realized you’d read the same page three times with no memory of its contents.

You looked up and were unsurprised to find Sebastian watching you. He quirked an eyebrow at you and you rolled your eyes in an attempt to feign disinterest. But you couldn’t resist the urge to sneak a peek at him from the corner of your eye.

He looked so damn good that day. His shirt sleeves were rolled up, exposing his forearms, and his hair was particularly messy from waking up late that morning. You imagined those strong arms lifting you onto that study table, where you’d sprawl out as he stood and fucked you.

The image lingered in your head for just a moment too long, and you knew you were a goner.

“Fuck,” you hissed under your breath, annoyed at Sebastian for trying to rile you up. He’d succeeded but now, you both were paying for it. It made you want to strangle him – as soon as you were done riding him into the ground.

But now that stupid barrier lingered between you, and there was no possible way you could wait for it to fall. You could already feel the swell mounting within your core. It made you shift on the sofa, the movement heightening the sensitivity between your legs.

The usual cool of the Room of Requirement felt suffocating. Your cheeks were starting to flush and you knew studying was a lost cause. As you stole another glance at Sebastian, who still lounged quietly in his chair with his legs stretched, you decided the least you could do was have some fun with your situation. Maybe next time, he’d think twice before distracting you – and for trying to challenge you.

You heaved a dramatic, audible sigh as you snapped your book shut. It went forgotten on the sofa next to you as you ran a slow, deliberate hand over your neck.

Sebastian watched you in guarded silence. Slowly, you began to unbutton your blouse, your fingers working carefully as you exposed more and more of your chest.

Sebastian straightened in his chair, sitting upright with his hands on his knees. “What the hell are you doing?” he growled. Your only reply was a silent, fleeting glance and a sinister smile.

Your blouse fell open and your legs followed suit. The hem of your skirt guarded your core, so you slowly hiked it up, pulling it backward to expose what lay beneath.

Sebastian already knew what was waiting. Your soaked panties covered your entrance. He let out a sharp exhale at the sight, his hands gripping his kneecaps as you ran a hand from your neck downward, dragging over one breast and across your stomach until it found the fabric protecting your cunt. Your legs opened wider. 

You gently ran a finger over your slit, the friction from the fabric provoking a low moan. You dared to look at Sebastian, who was looking positively distraught over the sight before him. 

Good.

You continued to rub your clothed entrance with two fingers until you decided your panties had become too restrictive. As Sebastian’s stare remained locked between your legs, you teased him by running a finger along the edge of the fabric.

“Please,” he rasped. You tugged your panties to the side. You could hear him whimper.

One finger dipped quickly inside your swollen cunt, the moisture coating it immediately. You pulled it out and your arousal glistened over your fingers. You used the moisture to coat your clit, your fingers gliding over the little bundle of nerves until the absence of something inside you was overwhelming.

You dabbed two fingers inside yourself and moaned as your walls clenched desperately around them. As you worked your own core, you sank lower into the sofa, your legs spread wide and your teeth tugging at your bottom lip.

Sebastian dropped his head backward for a moment, his face contorted in absolute anguish as he stared at the ceiling for a moment. It almost appeared as if he was in pain.

The sounds of you fucking yourself echoed, exposing your act to the poor portraits lining the walls. Your moans filled the room. You dug desperately inside yourself, your fingers beckoning and coaxing a release, the cadence of your breathy moans reflecting your nearing climax.

Sebastian’s hands were gripping the seat of his chair, his knuckles bright white as he watched. You almost felt sorry for him. Almost .

He swiped at his face with his hand, as if he were trying to stifle another whimper. The peak in his pants looked positively painful. You couldn’t help but feel impressed that he had managed to refrain from any attempts to relieve his own arousal. 

But your dripping need was more important. Finally, your eyes fell shut and you had to picture Sebastian’s face as you became too immersed in the heat that was coursing between your legs.

“Mmm, I’m going to come, Seb,” you managed to whine. He swore under his breath.

With your eyes squeezed shut and your walls squeezed even tighter, your fingers drove at your sweet spot and your palm dragged against your clit. You moved with vigor despite your tiring arm. 

Finally, you knew you were close. You wanted to sneak one more glance at Sebastian. You knew he was positively reeling. But you were feeling too selfish and too needy; your release was too demanding.

So instead, you moaned his name. It was followed with a grating cry that had formed deep in your throat. You came so hard, it felt like your walls were pounding around your fingers. You held them in place, clutching at yourself as you tried to prolong the sensation.

When it finally subsided, your heart was still pounding and your eyes peeled open. The room took a moment to fall into focus, but through the haze, you could see Sebastian’s form. 

He slumped in his chair, shoulders forward and knees bent. He looked positively miserable, as if he’d been dragged through absolute hell. 

“Sebastian?”

“Yeah?”

“You alright?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you… do you want to… take your turn?”

“No. I… don’t need to.”

Your eyes fell to his lap. “Oh.”

Now, you were feeling torn between guilt and pride; remorseful for making your poor boyfriend sit through such a sinful act; proud of the clear power you held over him. But this was his fault. You were perfectly content on studying until he decided to exhibit such feral behavior. You were simply matching his conduct. And now you knew you could make him come without even touching him.

But you were also physically spent. The magic barrier continued to glimmer across the room as you redressed yourself. Sebastian watched you quietly, his expression sedated and sleepy.

You nearly laughed as you realized he looked more spent than you did. But even the relief you had given yourself could never match the absolute euphoria of Sebastian’s touch. You already found yourself wanting it as soon as possible.

With time to spare as you waited for the barrier to fade, you tried to return to your reading. But now, your prior tension was replaced with a sluggish post-orgasm haze that made you drowsy. So instead, you curled up on the sofa with your head on the arm rest, asleep within minutes.

A gentle nudge pulled you from your nap. You sat up to find Sebastian lounging on the sofa next to you. 

“Seb?”

“Hey, darling.”

“How long was I asleep?”

Sebastian consulted his pocket watch. “Little over two hours.”

“Two hours ? Why did you let me sleep that long?”

“You looked like you needed it. Especially after that grand… performance you put on.”

Your cheeks flushed and you noticed Sebastian was wearing a new pair of trousers. “Did you… where did-”

“I went back to my dorm to change,” Sebastian explained. His cool, calm demeanor caught you off guard. You had been certain he’d be eager to ravish – or punish – you for your earlier antics. “Dinner’s going to start soon. You hungry?”

“I should be studying,” you groaned as you realized you had wasted an entire afternoon. The History of Magic exam was tomorrow.

“I’ll tell you what, love. How about we go grab some dinner and then you can study in peace and quiet. I’ll use the time to visit Anne,” Sebastian offered.

You blinked at him, your suspicion raised instantly. “Visit Anne,” you repeated blankly.

“Yes, Anne. You know, my sister?”

Something didn’t feel right. You knew Sebastian. You’d spent the past two weeks attached at the hip – literally and figuratively – and you couldn’t believe he’d be willing to spend the evening apart so willingly.

“You’re not going to punish me?” you asked stupidly. “For earlier?”

Sebastian barked a laugh. “What for, darling? How could I possibly be upset about having such an independent girlfriend?”

“Independent?”

“Yes, independent. Clearly you can take care of yourself. You don’t need me.”

Ah, there it was. His gameplay. You knew he wouldn’t let you off the hook. He was going to withhold sex from you as punishment. He’d seen how you agonized when Andrew had denied you for weeks, but he knew this would be much worse. You liked Andrew but you loved Sebastian. You’d spent the past two weeks absolutely enamored by the way he ruined you. 

This would become a game; a contest to see who could pretend to care less. And you’d give it your best performing act. Because you knew Sebastian, too. He was merely a man; a man who couldn’t contain himself at the mere sight of you falling apart hours earlier. 

So instead of protesting, you flashed him your prettiest smile and draped your arms around him in a hug, feigning gratitude for a night off.

—

Your gratitude was short-lived. You went to bed alone that night, tired after an evening of actual studying in the Room of Requirement by yourself. But by midnight, you were tossing and turning in distress over the excruciating ache that had returned between your legs.

Sebastian sauntered into the Great Hall the next morning and pressed a kiss to your temple as he slid into the seat next to you.

“Get all your studying done?” he asked casually.

“I know more about the outlawing of dragon breeding than I know the back of my hand,” you sighed. “How’s Anne?”

“She’s good,” Sebastian answered as he heaped a pile of eggs onto his plate. “I, uh… told her about us.”

You froze mid-bite into a slice of pineapple. “You did?”

“Relax,” Sebastian chuckled. “She’s thrilled for us. I knew she would be. She claims she knew all along that we’d end up together.”

You spent the remainder of breakfast quizzing each other for your exams, but beneath the table, you squirmed, annoyed that Sebastian had managed to appear so nonchalant over your lack of intimacy the previous night. What you didn’t know was that he’d spent the later hours of the evening relieving himself – twice – at the memory of what you’d done in the Room of Requirement.

The day’s exams didn’t end until late afternoon, meaning you didn’t see Sebastian again until dinner. You were dissecting the answers to the Arithmancy exam with Imelda Reyes when Sebastian appeared, lowering himself across from you.

“Survive that Muggle Studies exam, Sallow?” Imelda asked. 

“Easily,” Sebastian answered as he shifted his gaze to you.

“How was History of Magic?” he asked.

“Dreadful, but I think I aced it,” you answered.

“That’s my girl.”

Imelda rolled her eyes and redirected the conversation to her upcoming tryout with the Montrose Magpies. 

You listened to the details, genuinely happy your friend was close to securing her dream, but you couldn’t avert your eyes from Sebastian who was watching you quietly. When your eyes locked, he reached for an apple from the bowl on the table.

You narrowed your eyes in a silent quizzical stare as Imelda rambled on, her voice fading to a background hum as Sebastian took a slow and deliberate bite from the apple. His jaw closed and you could practically hear him sucking the juice from the apple’s skin. He chewed carefully and swallowed before he ran his tongue over his bottom lip, his eyes still on yours.

Your hips shifted in your seat. Sebastian noticed and smirked. 

You spent the remainder of the meal pretending Imelda’s quidditch tryout was the most fascinating thing you’d ever heard.

Students spent that evening enjoying the extended curfew that only came during exam week. Many lingered in the Great Hall while others scattered across the school grounds to take advantage of the warm evening. The rest retreated to the library to continue their studying.

You, however, didn’t make it down the steps to the Viaduct Courtyard before Sebastian was steering you toward the dungeons.

You greeted the few familiar faces in the Slytherin Common Room until Sebastian impatiently prodded you with his knee. After ascending the steps to the boys’ dormitories, he ushered you inside his room and kicked the door shut. The room was empty, his roommates likely out enjoying the evening, and you couldn’t wait to enjoy yours.

“Thought you were going to make me wait,” you teased as you slid yourself backward onto the bed, your legs dangling off the side.

“That was me making you wait,” Sebastian growled. You snorted.

“Seb, that was one day,” you noted.

“And that was more than enough.”

His admission that he couldn’t bear more than one day without burying himself inside you was exhilarating.

Sebastian all but dove for you, his hands clawing at your shoes and tights. Your skirt and panties followed until only your blouse and bra remained. 

Sebastian groaned at the sight of your entrance, which was already slick with anticipation. His arms hooked around your legs, yanking you to the edge of the bed.

“You’ve been fucking killing me,” he whined as he lowered himself between your legs.

A low, slow sigh left your lips the moment his tongue made contact with your entrance. He lapped at you in so much earnest, you could feel his breaths against your swollen skin.

He planted a kiss to your clit before a finger teased your folds. Your hips rocked in agony, your cunt desperate to swallow any part of Sebastian he’d allow. 

Two fingers sank into you and you instantly scolded yourself for thinking your own hands were worth a damn while in the Room of Requirement the previous day. Nothing felt as good as Sebastian. 

You moaned as you stretched around his fingers, your wet arousal making him hiss. 

“Fucking hell.”

He pulled his hand away and you whimpered in protest, though your frustration was short-lived as you watched him suck his fingers. It was an erotic vision that made your nipples harden.

“Better than any stupid apple,” he murmured. And his mouth returned to you again.

Fists balled the bed covers in your hands as your back sank deeper into the bed while you lifted your hips and gasped for more; more pressure, more relief, more Sebastian. His tongue teased your clit until his entire mouth was around your entrance, sucking at your flesh.

“Fuck, Seb. I’m so close.”

You could feel his tongue flatten over your clit in brisk swipes. The sound that vibrated from your throat was more of a pulsing hum than a moan as your eyes clamped shut, your focus drilled on the edge of your looming orgasm.

“Seb, I’m going to c-”

And then, silence. The pressure and heat was gone in an instant and your eyes shot open. Sebastian loomed over you, his glistening lips parted in a smug grin.

It was infuriating. You were splayed out, exposed and vulnerable, and your boyfriend had the audacity to tease and torture you. You wanted to curse him, hex him and pummel him with your fists.

But the best you could manage was a sharp, pained whine. And Sebastian, that cruel, conniving prick, responded with a short and maniacal laugh.

You glared, your cheeks flushed and your entrance seeping, determined to get your release. Maybe he was right. Maybe you’d just have to be an independent woman.

Your hand snapped to your entrance, fingers working frantically. It caught Sebastian off guard and he moved quickly to pin your hands to the bed above your head. You kicked your feet and he forced himself on top of you, more weight pushing your wrists downward into the mattress.

“Not yet,” he growled. “You’re going to wait for me. Understand?” You nodded in compliance. 

Sebastian didn’t speak as he returned to his feet. You watched with dark eyes as he reached for his belt, the buckle clinking softly as it released. His pants dropped to the floor, followed by his boxers. He slid his shirt overhead and stepped out of the heap of clothes on the floor, his erection bobbing as he moved.

He crawled over you again, one of his knees deliberately placed between your thighs, inches from your entrance. One hand worked slowly at the buttons of your blouse, addressing them one-by-one until your chest was exposed. 

That same hand snaked its way beneath you, fingers fiddling with the clasp of your bra until it snapped apart, your breasts falling from its hold. Sebastian helped you from your shirt and bra, leaving you completely bare beneath him.

“So fucking perfect,” he said. You shifted miserably beneath him. 

He lowered his mouth to your right breast, his tongue tracing slowly over your nipple. The bed creaked as his knee shifted closer, pressing itself against your cunt. You whimpered, certain that your body was going to catch fire.

Sebastian cupped your breast, pressing a trail of kisses to your neck where you could feel him smiling into your skin. His knee twitched and he snorted against the crook of your neck.

“You are so fucking wet,” he laughed. 

You narrowed your eyes in ire, but the pressure of skin against your entrance was intoxicating. You couldn’t help yourself. You bucked your hips, grinding your folds against Sebastian’s leg.

He looked ecstatic. 

“And I thought I was a pathetic mess in the Room of Requirement yesterday,” he mused as he gazed down at you. “But look at you, trying to fall apart against my fucking leg .”

If it hadn’t been for the students lounging in the Common Room below, you would have screamed. Or murdered him.

Sebastian pulled away to stand over you, the cool room coursing over your skin without his warmth.

“You know,” Sebastian murmured. “All you have to do is ask nicely.”

“Please,” you breathed. Your chest heaved and your hips rocked against nothing. It was shameful but you were void of any dignity now.

“That’s better.” You couldn’t help but pout at him and he grinned. “You know, darling, I don’t like making you wait either. My self-restraint has been hanging by a thread all day.”

“Then stop making me wait,” you growled. “ Please .”

Hearing you beg with authority was his final undoing. Sebastian liked to dominate you, but he liked your fiery attitude even more. It was what made him fall so stupidly in love with you in the first place. 

He pushed your legs apart and stood between them, his eyes drinking in the way your body was laid out for him, your breasts bouncing with every movement. 

The tip of his cock pressed against your entrance and you moaned in relief as you felt it settle inside you, pushing and stretching you until you were filled.

“I have to say,” Sebastian panted as he paused to allow your walls to adjust to his size. “I quite like the view from up here. Can’t wait to watch you fall apart beneath me.”

“Then hurry the fuck up,” you hissed. Sebastian beamed at you.

He started slow, pulling his cock until the head lingered near the folds of your entrance before he rocked his hips forward, sinking into you until he was fully sheathed again. His plan had been to tease you like this for quite some time, with leisurely, deliberate strokes slow enough that you’d feel every inch of his cock parting your walls. But reality was quite sobering. Soon, Sebastian’s restraint shattered and he was pumping into you at a short, steady pace, his eyes glued to the spot where you were connected. 

“My god,” he choked. The view of your cunt swallowing his length repeatedly turned his brain to mush, but nothing had prepared him for the sight of your wet arousal coating his shaft.

Your moans filled the room, your hands gripping and squeezing your nipples. Sebastian grunted at the sight of you playing with your own breasts, an erotic vision straight from years of his fantasies. 

“God, you take me so well,” he moaned, his hands gripping your hips as he pulled your body into his thrusts.

You were teetering on the edge of ruin, your nerves heightened from the edging Sebastian had given you with his tongue moments ago. He reached down to trace circles over your clit, the extra source of sensation pushing you through the threshold.

“Sebastian!” The cry of his name preceded a sharp gasp as the swelling wave inside you crashed. Your toes curled and your back arched as your walls spasmed and grasped around Sebastian’s cock. 

Sebastian pressed the tip of his cock hard into your sweet spot, coaxing more moisture that dripped down his length while you orgasmed. He held it there until you were done crumbling around him.

“You’re fucking perfect when you come,” Sebastian croaked. He reached for your ankles and pulled them together, lifting them into the air to rest against his shoulder.

He regained a steady rhythm of thrusts, the new position squeezing your tight heat around him. His cock drove upward, drilling hard until you were certain you were too sensitive to handle him.

Sebastian’s grip tightened around your ankles, his thrusts falling out of sync as he began to unravel. The smacking sound reverberated off the walls. But you were too selfish to allow him to quit just yet.

“Seb, I’m close,” you moaned.

Sebastian grunted. “Going to come for me again so soon?” he managed.

“Yes, please. Please .”

His jaw was clenched so tight you feared it would crack, but his cock pounded your cunt harder. The pitch of your moans drifted higher and higher until the peak of the noise matched the peak inside your core. 

“Fuck, I’m going to come,” Sebastian coughed just as your final orgasm tore through your insides. You came so hard, you arched off the bed, your ankles digging downward into Sebastian’s shoulder as you cried out. His knees would have buckled beneath the force if he hadn’t tensed from his own climax, his body going rigid as his cock twitched. He groaned through the sensation until he used your leg to pull your body flush against himself with one final slam, spurting his release inside you.

He remained there, though he was barely able to stand as you wondered if your skeleton had vacated your body. 

“Fucking hell,” Sebastian panted. “Let’s never go that long without each other again.”

“Agreed,” you murmured.

And before you could move apart, the dormitory door swung open and Ominis strode in. He froze dead in his tracks, the tip of his wand glowing vibrant red as he analyzed the scene before him.

“Are you two fucking serious?!”

[gortash-did-nothing-wrong]

Skin

Minors Do Not Interact.

Warnings: aftermath of childbirth, pregnancy, childbirth complications (not fatal), and hints of Feyd's abusive childhood.

Feyd holds his newborn baby as his wife rests. The birth had gone as smoothly as a first could be expected to go, but she had reacted poorly to the medications they gave her afterwards. She was quite out of it, mumbling and far too drugged up to hold the baby. She couldn't even touch her nose without smacking her own eye.

Feyd had refused to let the nurses hold his son. The idea of simply handing his child off to a stranger, whether servant or slave, felt wrong to him. The nurse had smiled, despite the glare Feyd wore on his face. "You'll want to remove your shirt."

Feyd frowned deeper. "Why?"

"Newborn babies need skin to skin contact. It helps with temperature regulation, digestion, heart rate, all manner of things. I can step out if you'd prefer."

Feyd waves his hand, gesturing for her to leave. It had been nearly six months since he had killed Vladimir Harkonnen, and yet he still felt uncomfortable being exposed in front of anyone. Anyone except his wife and his harpies, that is.

Feyd had shed his shirt, and then carefully picked up his baby from the bassinet the nurse had set him in. He cradled his son the way his wife had shown him. She had forced him to practice swaddling and cradling and all manner of actions with a stuffed toy. She had insisted he learn, in her words, in case she died. Something that he had hated hearing.

But now, as Feyd sat in a chair beside his wife's bed and held his baby boy, the heir of his kingdom, the pride of his heart, and quite recently, the thing he loved most in the world, he was beyond grateful his wife had insisted he learned. His son was silent, and Feyd knew that it would be some time before he could expect to communicate meaningfully with his son. Despite that, he whisper out a few words of explanation to his first born.

"Sorry, little one. Your mother would be much softer to rest against, but she's not feeling well. Bringing you into this world took a lot out of her. It's not your fault, of course not, don't think that. These things happen. The doctors checked her over three times, she'll be alright in a few hours. She's always been sensitive to medicine, she just needs to rest and let the IV help her clean out her system. Between you and me, she's quite the lightweight. I swear she got drunk off of half a glass of wine before. Harkonnen wine, but still. Don't repeat this to your mother, alright? It's alright for us to tease her on occasion, but she's been through hell these last few hours. It's not the time to tease."

Feyd stayed like that with his son for hours, whispering to him about everything and nothing. He explained to his son what time of day it was, how time was measured, how the sun worked on Giedi Prime, and how the evening was his wife's favorite time of day. The hours flew by, and by the time the sun rose, Feyd was certain his son was the most intelligent baby in history.

His wife stirred when the sun peeked over the horizon, her eyes fluttering open to the sight of Feyd, still shirtless, cradling the child she had labored for hours to bring into the world. "Feyd…"

Feyd leaned forward, scooting his chair closer to the bed. "Do you hurt, my darling? Do you thirst? Hunger?"

"Yes to all." His wife grumbled. "But before any of that," she held out her arms, smiling, "I'd like to hold my son."

Feyd set their boy in her arms, kissed her on the forehead, pulled his shirt back on, and left to call for the nurse. So many things left to do. His wife needed her health checked. She'd need to drink a lot of fluids. His son would need some things done as well. Foot prints, documents signed, shots perhaps. Feyd wasn't sure how long a baby needed to wait before getting vaccinated, but if it was to be done today, then it was another task. It seemed an endless list to him at the moment. A boring yet tiring list when all he truly wanted was to go back into his wife's bedroom and hold her in his arms while she held their baby. Oh well. Responsibilities first, desires second.

[cinnamontoastcrunch-15]

Don't know if you are taking one-shot requests or if this is by like impulsiveness, but feel free to decline or put this off if you don't feel like writing it. Anyways I keep thinking of Remus accidentally hurting one of the marauders while messing around during a full moon and the the domino effect of him just shutting himself off and pulling away from the group because he just feels terrible about it. Anyways feel free to write this or just ignore it! Just wanted to get this out there somewhere. I love your work. You are extremely talented <3

HELLO.

I definitely complete requests on an impulsive basis, HOWEVER this one has very much piqued my interest haha.

I hope you enjoy!!

"I'm sure you're very shaken, Mr Black," Professor McGonnagal starts, as Madame Pomfrey keeps on dressing the three gashes across his chest. He flinches a little, but honestly? He's barely paying attention. He cranes his neck to glance at the closed curtains a few beds down, vaguely wondering if Remus is awake yet.

"I'm fine," he says dismissively.

"I just need to assure you that what happened last night is an anomaly." She sits on the chair beside his bed, looking at him severely. "We have safety measures in place, as well as our curfew," she says pointedly. She clearly isn't quite ready to reprimand him for breaking curfew yet, but he'd honestly rather that she did. "I understand if you wish to change dormitories, now. I'm sure that can be arranged. However, we would like to do everything in our power to keep Mr Lupin at Hogwarts-"

"Change dorms?" Sirius interjects, confused. "Why would I do that?"

"Well..." Minerva glances at Poppy for a second, clearly surprised. "If you wish for Remus to be moved, we may be able to-"

"No. No, I don't want anyone to move," he says simply. "It's fine, it's really not a big deal."

"Sirius, we know that you are... aware of Remus' circumstances," Minerva says, reminding him of fifth year with an awful jolt of the heart. "However, you're allowed to feel shaken up after an incident like this. I understand if this changes your previous outlook on everything."

"It doesn't," he answers firmly. "Is he awake?"

"Oh." She looks at him, a little stunned, but Sirius couldn't care less. "No, not quite yet."

"Right." He nods to himself. "Can I see him? I just want to make sure he knows everybody's fine as soon as he wakes up."

"About that..." Minerva starts, uncomfortable. "It might be best for you to head to class. That is, if you feel like you can. We don't want too much suspicion to be built around-"

"Okay, yeah. That's okay, I get it." He swings his legs out of bed, grabbing the uniform that has been left for him. "I'll be fine." He's dealt with worse than a few slashes; this all just feels a little dramatic.

He's stocked up with potions and sent hesitantly on his way by Poppy. Professor McGonnagal seems nothing if not distressed, filling out paperwork and asking Sirius multiple times if he's sure he's okay before he leaves. It's a bit much, really. He just wants to get notes for Remus, then sit with him for a bit to keep him from spiralling. The Professors may not know this yet, but Remus is going to be far more shaken by this than he is.

Still, he dutifully goes to his classes, antsy as he scribbles down notes for Remus. All he wants to do is go to check in on him, make sure he isn't too upset. He needs to get in there before Remus lets what happened implant into his head and mess with the self-acceptance he's been gaining recently. When he finally reaches lunch, he all but sprints back to the hospital wing.

Much to his surprise, the wing is completely empty.

"Er... Madame Pomfrey?" He calls out. She emerges from her office, offering Sirius a smile. "Where's Remus?"

"I cleared him to leave," she explains gently. "He asked if he could go and sleep it off in your dorm."

"Oh. Did you tell him about...?"

She nods once, and Sirius' heart sinks to his stomach.

Shit.

"Okay, thanks for letting me know." He turns on his heel and immediately makes a beeline for the dorm. He can skip divination for the day, anyway. All he needs to do is show up next time with a prophecy about his own death.

The first thing he notices when he gets to the dorm is the darkness.

Every curtain is pulled shut, every light off. Remus' bed is entirely closed off, and Sirius can vaguely feel the weight of a silencing charm over it. He approaches slowly, gently, reaching out to pull the curtain open. As he suspects, it's charmed shut, locked and unmoving.

"Hey, darling?" He tries softly. Nothing. "I, er... I just wanted to let you know that I'm fine, okay? Don't stress yourself out."

Silence.

Either he's fallen asleep, or he just doesn't want to talk.

Instead of doing what he usually does and waiting for Remus to open the curtains, he gives him a little space. Something in him is telling him that Remus needs some time to himself. He doesn't want to ambush him and make everything worse.

That decided, he doesn't go to divination. In all honesty, he's still in a fair bit of pain; he doesn't exactly want to sit in a dull, stuffy classroom, pretending he sees things that aren't there. Almost subconsciously, he finds himself wandering slowly around Hogwarts. He makes it across the school, listening to the odd painting ask him why he's not in lesson. He wanders aimlessly for a while, trying not to let himself panic about Remus. He wanted to nip it in the bud, but now? He's not even sure when Remus is going to talk to him again.

"Sirius?" Lily's voice pulls him out of this thoughts.

"Oh. Hi. You're not in charms?"

"No, it got cancelled. Have you seen Remus? I've got the set work." She holds it up, as Sirius does his level best to keep his face neutral.

"He's not feeling well," Sirius supplies. Lily looks at him for a moment, tilting her head to the side.

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. I can take Remus' work, if you want?"

She hands it over wordlessly, offering Sirius a smile.

"Thank you. Tell Remus I hope he's okay, yeah?"

"Of course," Sirius says with a nod. She's somehow provided him with the perfect excuse to speak to Remus. He's more likely to stay in the same room with Sirius if they start talking about work. Maybe he'll be able to break the ice before Remus gets too closed off.

Something tells him that Remus will have bolted from the dorm by now. Instead of spending extra time going up to grab the map, he makes a beeline for one of the quietest spots in the school.

When he gets up to the astronomy tower, he immediately spots Remus. He's leaning against the rail, resting his head in his hands.

"Hey," he starts gently, walking over slowly. Remus jumps a mile, shoulders tensing. He straightens up, hands on the rail rather than his elbows, but he doesn't turn to look at Sirius. It's like he's hoping that Sirius will just... give up and leave.

Yeah, that's not happening.

He stops next to Remus, standing there in silence for a second.

"I've got your homework from Lily," he starts.

"Oh. Thanks, you didn't need to..."

"I wanted to," Sirius answers, turning to watch Remus carefully. Remus practically has his eyes fixed out at the grounds, as if the world will end if he so much as tries to look Sirius' way. "...You know I'm okay, right?" Remus doesn't say anything, but Sirius doesn't miss the small furrow in his brow. "I'm fine, and I'm not pissed off."

"You should be," Remus says quietly. It's practically inaudible, but Sirius doesn't miss it.

"Why? You didn't do anything."

"Sirius," Remus says again, turning to Sirius with a slightly exasperated and desperate look. "You could have died. You could have... Madame Pomfrey had to call McGonnagal in, that's not nothing."

"I'm not dead," Sirius starts gently, slowly starting to inch his hand towards Remus'. "I've been okay enough to be in class. Everything's okay." He takes a chance, reaches out to grab Remus' hand. Before he gets there, Remus pulls his hand away, practically recoiling, folding just a little more in on himself. "You didn't do anything wrong," he says again, willing Remus to just look at him.

"You could have died," Remus repeats, barely audible. "It would have been my fault."

"Last time I checked, you don't control it." Remus shakes his head. "There we are, so you didn't do anything." Remus opens his mouth to interject, but Sirius isn't done. "It was just a game that the wolf was really into. Animals accidentally scratch each other all the time. It wasn't malicious, and it wasn't dangerous. You backed off straight after."

He watches as Remus presses his lips into a thin line, trying to keep himself together.

"I'm fine. You're okay, I'm okay..." He trails off, eyes scanning over Remus' face. "Please, Rem, just look at me. I'm right here."

Finally, finally, Remus turns his head, eyes meeting Sirius'. For a moment, they just watch each other.

Until Remus crumbles.

The tears come before Remus says anything else, and Sirius just wordlessly pulls Remus into a hug. He ignores the sting as Remus wraps his arms around Sirius, gripping him as though he's scared that Sirius is going to disappear.

"I'm not going anywhere, okay?" Sirius whispers into Remus' ear, before turning and pressing a kiss to his temple. "I'm staying right here."

[eyesof-kkomi]

Emergency Valentine

Emergency Valentine - Zayne

This is the first time I write a Love and Deepspace fic. My idea is, it's Valentine's day. As they were both busy on that day, so they both agree to have simple dinner together after work and have a reservation for romantic dinner. MC has finished her work early, so she waited for him to finish their work.

(Note: author is sleep deprived in between night shifts, so…)

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

Emergency Valentine - Zayne

It was Valentine’s Day. Valentine’s Day had never been anything special to Zayne, but this year, he had made plans. A quiet dinner tomorrow—just the two of them. First time everything together always made his heart melt.

But then Zayne distinct hospital's ringtone rang - He had been called in for emergency surgery at the last minute. Right when MC had just arrived, sat down, and carrying warm cooked meals, hot cocoa, and assortments of their favourite macaroons.

Zayne shot an apologetic glance to her and pinching his nose bridge.

"It's 5 years old kid with protocore syndrome and recent MVA accident-"

"It's okay Zayne, no need to explain. Do your job well. I will be waiting"

"Promise that I will be quick and do it well, don't wait for me to start eating so you won't get sick."

MC just smiled reassuringly and waved at him dashed through the door"

MC understood, of course. They both had mutual understanding the nature of each others' job.

But surgery took longer than expected.

She had meant to stay awake, but exhaustion settled in, the warm air lulling her into a deep sleep on his sofa.

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

Guilt. Guilt. Guilt.

By the time Zayne returned, it was almost midnight. But the patient had pulled through. Has she left yet? The room had already dark. Good for her, he hoped she could get rest properly at home.

He put down his ID card on table and about to collapse onto his sofa with tired sigh, until he saw her.

There, curled up on the sofa, was MC.

His gaze swept over the scene—food containers neatly placed on the table, untouched. A set of macaroons still neatly wrapped with ribbon. A thermos of hot cocoa and two clean sets of mugs. Her bag rested on her foot, her coat draped loosely over her shoulders, and she hugged a snowman plushie.

She had waited.

Zayne’s lips parted slightly, as if about to say something—though to no one in particular.

Instead, he walked over, crouching beside her.

A small crease formed between his brows. Her breathing seemed uneven.

Carefully, he reached out, the back of his fingers brushing against her cheek.

…Warm.

Zayne’s expression shifted.

Without hesitation, he pressed a hand lightly to her forehead. Too hot.

He took out a thermometer, the reading beeped at 39.5 C. A fever.

He moved quickly to set up IV and medicines. Blankets. He adjusted the room temperature, turning on the heater for good measure.

She barely stirred.

Zayne pulled up a chair beside her, arms resting on his knees as he watched her carefully.

His fingers curled slightly.

She had waited, in the cold, without eating. That was probably why her fever had worsened.

A quiet sigh left his lips.

Now he waited. And regularly checked her ear temperature.

"Zayne…?"

She woke half an hour later, blinking groggily.

"How's the kid?"

“You’re awake,” he noted, voice even.

"He's okay now but we still need careful observation on PICU." He paused, "But I seemed to get another new patient admission."

He reached over, pressing the back of his hand against her forehead again. Still warm, but slightly better.

She let out a small, weak chuckle.

"He's okay now. But I seemed to get another new patient admission"

“Did I fall asleep…?”

“You have a fever,” Zayne said simply. He proceeded to take out warmed foods from microwave and put down on table."

She gave a small, sheepish chuckle. “I just wanted to wait for you.” “You should have eaten first.”

She opened her mouth, but before she could argue, he blowed air and lifted a spoonful of warm soup to her lips.

“Eat, my love.” he said gently.

A pause. Then, she smiled.

He was always like this—quietly taking care of her in ways that truly mattered.

She let him feed her, her body relaxing with the warmth of the meal.

He measured her temperature once again, it had gone down.

"How do you feel? Any nausea or stomach discomfort"

She shaked her head. " I'm alright now, thanks to Zayne and doctor Zayne."

Zayne smiled softly. "I bet you skipped lunch during your mission today. You should take care of yourself well."

After a while, he spoke again.

“I’m taking you home.”

His fingers lightly brushed against her forehead again, checking her temperature. Still warm.

His voice was softer this time.

“You’ll recover faster with me.”

Her heart fluttered.

She reached out, lacing her fingers through his.

“You feel guilty, don’t you?”

Zayne didn’t answer immediately. He simply squeezed her hand.

"If you get sick, I feel like I get sick too", Zayne said sheepisly while looked away.

“Tomorrow, we’ll have dinner. I promise. If you had recovered, of course.” He brought her hand and kissed it.

She smiled, squeezing his hand back.

“Okay. Tomorrow. We have all the time in the world together.”

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

I still have ideas for other LIs, maybe I will upload it once I've finished edited it.

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

[utilitycaster]

The reason those C3 fans shit the bricks over the Charity stream was because they viewed the charity stream as a win for them and bells hells. Not like you know, an actual good thing to help people in need. Because when it was announced they were in the qrts and on twt yelling that the cast closing to play as Bells Hells was cause they loved them above all. That BH were "winning" because MN didn't get one shots while airing. No1 expected anyone BUT BH to be played so they were fighting air tbh.

[Cont. So when Laudna got yeeted and Beau joined it, it's like they suddenly hit with the fact that the cast like all the times. All character sheets were available and BH was being played by default of the one shot happening during c3. But they hung their entire world view on BH being extra special that they broke. Saw them also being PISSED at Ashley and Liam for getting MN members to the top before everyone else and especially the gate was "showing up BH".]

Here is what gets me, as a person who does not follow sports in any form: The Mighty Nein are a juggernaut of popularity within the fandom. I think this is for the most part deserved and I also think a lot of fans of C1 who never vibed with any later campaigns are simply not active in fandom any more since it's been 7 years, and Critical Role had more recognition with Campaign 2, so like, numbers within active social media fandom are not a perfect indicator of quality, itself a subjective measure.

HOWEVER. If you want your team to win, the most efficient way to do that is to start rooting for the winning team. I get that this is considered treasonous to genuine fans of sports. But like, if your biggest priority is Number Is Bigger then there is an obvious solution and it's called jumping on the bandwagon. Otherwise, perhaps you should consider a different metric, such as "did I have fun at this game? Were the snacks good? Were there some cool plays?" (from this you can see my priorities re: live sports namely are my friends here and did I get some nachos and a beer but you get my point). Honestly, this is how I and a lot of other people have been approaching Bells Hells week to week for some time now: were there some cool scenes? Did the character they liked most at the time say something funny? Did NPCs do anything? Were the fight mechanics interesting?

I have a post that I am saving for next week about specific elements of C3 that goes into more depth but I feel like Campaign 3's fandom in particular fell to a certain attitude that feels very specific to a younger (to me, an ancient crone, so like, mid-20s) crowd, of obsessing over numbers: how many fics. how many notes. how much screentime. can you believe that Episode 100 didn't even have Bells Hells in it????? And it's like. who the fuck cares. Is it good? Is it satisfying? Because right now we're watching you guys all admit it hasn't been and 120 episodes in you were waiting for the campaign to REALLY begin.

I don't think the cast dislikes Bells Hells! I think they all like all of their characters, and frankly when the cast gets asked directly a lot of them go with a "you never forget your first" and give their VM character anyway so like, the vitriol at the Mighty Nein really is a petty popularity contest in the end. But Bells Hells are the party that the cast happened to be playing during the Moon Plot Campaign and the party that the cast happened to be playing at the time of the livestream. None of the three main parties are uniquely special. They are special to their individual fans.

I made the Elon Musk comparison for C3 fans earlier this week and I don't want to go too hard since like, he is truly horrible, and I do think that a lot of C3 fans, while currently shitty self-absorbed people, are also quite young and it is my hope that a sharp but ultimately harmless disappointment like this campaign might shock them into fixing their hearts, but the final lines of this post came to mind while writing up a lot of my responses: "And in fact I would argue that seeking to put yourself above other people is inherently going to leave you empty, because egotistical as you may be, you've adopted a values system where your sense of self worth intrinsically depends on other people. Congratulations, you played yourself."

If your day can be ruined because your blorbo wasn't present for 100% of a live stream for charity and the cast likes all of their characters? You should work on that! I'm not saying it's easy or fun but it really is a thing you should work on because right now, the worst thing that's going to happen to you is people laughing at your misfortune on social media. But if you keep up this behavior, you're going to be bitter and miserable forever, and it will be your own fault because you're getting mad that something that was never about you continues to not be about you. Learn to accept that you had a good time (if you had a good time, anyway) and it's over and that's okay.

[uhbambii]

A Sweet Brew

The sun hung low over Treviso, casting the cobblestone streets in hues of gold and amber. The town was alive with soft chatter and the scent of freshly baked bread wafting from nearby shops. Rook walked alongside Lucanis Dellamorte, their pace unhurried, their steps falling into an easy rhythm.

Lucanis, as always, carried himself with a quiet confidence. His dark hair fell just slightly over his forehead, and his deep-set eyes—dark as a starless night—glanced at her with an intensity that made her cheeks flush. The silver detailing of his dyed leather armor glinted in the fading sunlight, but tonight, he seemed like a man enjoying stolen time with someone who had slowly begun to mean everything to him.

“You keep looking at me like that, and people will start talking,” Rook teased, her lips curving into a smile.

Lucanis smirked, a faint tilt of his head betraying his amusement. “Let them talk. Non mi importa. Tonight, it’s just us.” His voice, low and velvety, sent a shiver down her spine.

They arrived at Cafe Pietra, a warm, rustic tavern nestled near the heart of the square. Lucanis opened the door, his hand brushing hers as he gestured for her to enter.

“After you, tesoro,” he said softly, his gaze lingering on her with a rare gentleness.

The tavern’s cozy interior was alive with the hum of conversation, and the rich aroma of roasted coffee. They chose a table tucked near the open railing, where the view of the twinkling lights of Treviso framed them in golden light.

As they settled in, the barmaid approached, pen poised to take their orders.

“I’ll have coffee,” Rook said with confidence, then added, “but sweet. Really sweet. Lots of milk. And whipped cream on top, please.”

The barmaid nodded and turned to Lucanis, who leaned back in his chair, one brow raised in amusement.

“Un caffè nero,” he said simply. His voice, smooth and measured, contrasted with the teasing look he shot Rook.

Once the barmaid left, Lucanis rested his chin on his hand and gave her a slow, almost predatory smile. “Milk, sugar, whipped cream. Cara mia, you might as well have ordered dessert.”

Rook leaned forward, undeterred. “And? What’s wrong with that? It’s good.”

“It’s childish,” Lucanis countered, though his voice was tinged with affection. “But fitting. You do have a way of bringing a certain… levity to things.”

She grinned, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “You mean I make you laugh.”

“I mean you make my days lighter,” he said, his words quieter, almost as if he hadn’t meant to let them slip. His dark eyes softened, and for a moment, there was no teasing, no veil of sarcasm between them. Just honesty.

Rook felt her breath catch. She’d never tire of the moments when Lucanis let down his guard, when his words carried the weight of feelings he struggled to express.

Their drinks arrived soon after, the contrast between them as stark as their personalities. Rook’s cup was a decadent creation, whipped cream piled high with a drizzle of caramel. Lucanis’ was, unsurprisingly, dark and unadorned.

He raised his cup, taking a slow sip, then eyed hers with a raised brow. “Is that coffee, or did you order a dessert buffet in a cup?”

“Don’t knock it till you try it,” Rook said, her tone daring. She scooped up a spoonful of whipped cream and held it out to him, leaning slightly forward.

He sighed theatrically but leaned closer, his lips brushing the spoon as he tasted the cream. When he sat back, he rubbed his chin as if deep in thought. “Sweet. Very sweet. Too sweet for me.” His smirk returned as he added, “But I can see why you like it.”

“Because I have excellent taste, Bello” Rook replied, taking a triumphant sip from her cup.

“No,” Lucanis said, his voice softening. He reached across the table and took her hand in his, the calluses of his palm a comforting contrast to the tenderness of the gesture. “Because you are sweetness itself, Uccellina.”

The air between them shifted, growing heavier with unspoken emotion. His thumb brushed over her knuckles, and when she looked into his eyes, she saw something she wasn’t sure she deserved but couldn’t help wanting.

“You’re too smooth for your own good,” she murmured, though her heart raced at the way his gaze never wavered.

Lucanis’ lips curved into a faint smile. “Perhaps. But tonight, I’ll indulge in saying what I mean. Sei la mia luce.”

Her breath hitched, and she gave his hand a small squeeze. “And you’re mine. Even if you do drink the bitterest coffee known to man.”

They laughed softly, the sound low and intimate, a shared moment that felt like it belonged only to them. As the evening deepened, Lucanis leaned back in his chair, his hand never leaving hers.

“I could sit here forever,” he said quietly, his voice like a promise. “With you. Just like this.”

Rook smiled, her heart full. “Then I guess you’ll have to get used to whipped cream.”

“For you?” he murmured, lifting her hand to his lips and brushing a kiss over her knuckles. His eyes met hers, dark and unwavering. “Sempre, Uccellina.”

The moment lingered, the world outside the tavern fading into irrelevance. There, in the golden glow of Treviso, they found something sweeter than any coffee: a quiet certainty that they had each found their place in each other.

——————————————————————————

Hey guys! I’m back after a short hiatus due to finals week and winter break! (I’m a junior in University).

I will start the fanfics back up, but I would appreciate it, if I could get some ideas of the kind of writing you’d like to see!

Anyways! Happy Holidays!!!

——————————————————————————

Non mi importa: I don’t care

Tesoro: Treasure/Darling/Sweetheart

Un caffè nero: Black coffee

Cara mia: My beloved

Bello: Handsome

Uccellina: Little Crow/Little Bird

Sei la mia luce: You are the light of my life

Sempre: Always

——————————————————————————

[evanzrosier]

☆ ☆ ☆ rosekiller one-shot ☆ ☆ ☆

One evening, Barty finally spoke. He had been discussing the possibilities in his head for ages.

"Evan," he began, his voice hesitant. Evan glanced at him, arching a brow. "You're being dramatic again. Spit it out."

"I think I love you," Barty said, the words hanging in the air between them. Evan was silent for a long moment, his gaze fixed on the stars above. When he finally spoke, his tone was measured but kind.

"I know," Evan said simply.

Barty's heart clenched. "And?"

Evan went silent again. He tapped his fingers against his own thighs, contemplating the word that had started to take root in his mind a while ago: asexual. It fit, like a key turning in a lock. But saying it aloud? That was something else entirely. He knew he could trust Barty, but to come out with the truth right now? Evan exhaled sharply, his chest tight with a feeling he couldn’t quite name, though he’d tried. For years, he’d thought himself incapable of romantic love. He didn’t feel the pull others described, the longing for touch or intimacy that seemed to drive them. Yet here he was.

It wasn’t desire, Evan realized a while ago, but something deeper. He loved Barty, not in the way most people meant when they spoke of love, but in a way that was no less real. He loved the way Barty made him feel alive, the way their arguments felt like a game only they understood, the way Barty trusted him without question.

And it terrified him. Because what did he have to offer? He could give Barty loyalty, protection, a bond that would never break. But he couldn’t give him what the world expected love to be. Evan leaned back, his gaze steady.

"And... i can't give you what you want, Barty," he finally said, turning to face him. "Not because I don't love you, I do. More than anyone else in this damn world. But i don't feel the same way about you."

"Not the same way? You just said you love me..." Barty said confused. Evan smiled sadly, "yeah..."

"I don't understand," he said.

"Barty..." Evan said quietly, cutting through the stream of complaints.

“What?”

Evan took a slow breath, his hands shaking. He had rehearsed this moment a dozen times, but now, with Barty next to him, his sharp eyes filled with that rare flicker of concern, the words caught in his throat. Only moments ago Barty told him he loved him.

“I need to tell you something,” Evan began, his voice steady but low. “Something about me.”

Barty tilted his head slightly, the tension in his posture softening. “Alright. Go on.”

Evan hesitated, then pushed forward. “I’ve never... felt the way other people do. About romance. About... desire.” He glanced away, his gaze fixed on the distant. “I don’t want those things. Not with anyone.”

For a moment, there was only silence. Then Barty moved closer, his expression unreadable. “But you just told me...”

"I know, but it's not the same. I'm asexual, barty. My feelings are... different than yours," Evan cut in.

"So... that’s it?” Barty asked, his tone calm but thoughtful. Evan’s chest tightened. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Barty said, gesturing slightly, “that’s your big revelation? You’re asexual. You don’t feel that way about people.” He shrugged. “Alright.” Evan blinked, his composure slipping into confusion. “That’s it?”

Barty leaned forward again, his eyes locking onto Evan’s with an intensity that could have melted stone. “Evan, I love you. Not because I expect anything from you, not because I’m waiting for something to change. I love you. The way you think, the way you carry yourself, the way you make me feel like I’m not completely alone in this mess of a world. That’s enough for me.”

Evan opened his mouth to speak, but Barty cut him off.

“Listen to me,” Barty said firmly, his voice steady. “I love you, and you told me you love me too, right? We’ll make it work. However we need to, whatever that looks like. I don’t care about what other people think love is supposed to be. What I care about is you, and the fact that I can’t imagine my life without you in it.”

Evan stared at him, the weight of Barty’s words sinking in. He had always assumed his truth would be a burden, a barrier. But here was Barty, looking at him with nothing but certainty in his eyes. “You mean that,” Evan said quietly, more a statement than a question.

“Of course I mean it,” Barty replied, his lips curling into a rare, soft smile. “When have you ever known me to lie to you?” A rare warmth spread through Evan’s chest, and for the first time in a long while, he felt something close to peace. For the first time, he felt a weight lift, like he could finally breathe. “Thank you,” he said, his voice steady.

“Don’t thank me. Just... stick around, alright? That’s all I need.”

Evan gave him a small, genuine smile. “I think I can do that.” Evan hesitated for a moment, gathering his thoughts. “I’m not comfortable with... anything physical beyond a certain point. Kissing is fine, but beyond that, I just don’t feel it. I don’t want to feel pressured into something I can’t give.”

Barty listened intently, his sharp eyes softening. “Okay,” he said simply. Evan blinked. “Okay?”

“Yes, okay,” Barty repeated, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “You think I’m going to argue with you about that? I told you, Evan, I love you. Not because of what we can or can’t do, but because you’re you. That’s all that matters to me.” Evan felt a warmth spread through his chest, a rare but welcome feeling.

“You make it sound so simple.”

“It is simple,” Barty said, leaning forward. “I’ll follow your lead. If kissing’s on the table, great. If you change your mind about anything, we’ll talk. And if you don’t, that’s fine too. We’ll figure it out as we go.”

Evan gave him a small, grateful smile. “You’re surprisingly reasonable about this.” Barty chuckled, leaning back again.

“Don’t get used to it. You’re the only one who gets this version of me.”

They sat in silence for a moment before Barty glanced at him again, a mischievous glint in his eye. “So, about this kissing thing...” Evan rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the faint smirk that crossed his lips. “Don’t push your luck, Crouch.” Barty laughed, the sound filling the room like a spark of light in the shadows.

And as they sat together, the unspoken understanding between them grew stronger. Proof that love didn’t have to follow anyone else’s rules to be real. He had proven that love didn’t have to fit into neat little boxes to be real. It was strange, this feeling of being seen, wholly and without compromise. Barty didn’t just tolerate his asexuality, he accepted it as part of who Evan was, without question. It was freeing, almost disarming, to have someone who cared so deeply and expected nothing Evan couldn’t give.

[corralinesage]

Learning you by heart (16/16)

This is the final chapter of the fic :) THANK YOU to everyone who has read this story. Your support means so much to me. You've made my holidays and the beginning of the year significantly better!! thank you<3

Chapter 16: Kiss of a lifetime

“I don’t wanna”, you giggled, standing a few feet away from Natasha, facing her. She had a jeering smile on her lips, powdery snow up to her ankles, her cheeks bright red.

“That’s because you’re not ready to lose, detka (baby)”, she hummed, shaping the ball of snow that she was holding between her mitten-covered hands. It was New Year’s Eve. You and Natasha had forced yourselves to get up from the bottom of the couch after realizing you had in fact inhaled a full tray of cookies that Wanda had baked for New Year’s. To escape her wrath, you had decided to go on a walk in Central Park while it was still light outside, and the city was slightly calmer than it would be in the evening.

“Lose”, you scoffed in disbelief. “I’ll show you who’s gonna lose.” You crouched down, gathering snow between your hands to have at least something to defend yourself with. Her smile widened. It was almost predatory but in a playful way. You knew you were going to get your ass handed back to you, but who could seriously blame you for wanting an attractive woman to treat you in such a way?

“Bring it on, pretty girl.” You wasted no time in chucking your snowball at her, watching her dodge it with ease. You grabbed more snow, but before you could form a ball, Natasha had chucked hers right at your face. You let out a horrified squeal as you covered your head with your arms just in time, the ball hitting your coat with impressive force. Natasha was clearly not one to mess around in a snowball fight. She laughed at your misfortune, walking a little bit closer to you as she shaped another ball between her hands. You grabbed more snow after recovering from your blow, doing your best to stare her down as you backed away from her. It was rather thrilling.

“Oh, you’re gonna regret that”, you huffed as you chucked another ball at her. It didn’t land, not even close, prompting you to try again, choosing for rapid fire to hopefully at least hit her.

“Make me feel it, malyshka (baby).” She gave you a smirk, lifting her snowball up enough to give you a warning before chucking it at your face again. You could not help the natural instinct to scream and protect yourself with your arms, Natasha taking advantage of the fact that you had no training to counter her attack or any kinds of threats with an attack of your own. You could simply scream and hide. The sheer shock of her impeccable aim was enough to make you laugh, each hit she aimed at your face pulling out a scream and a laugh from you as you did your best to find a window of opportunity to get back at her. Natasha loved seeing you playful and full of joy, and what she loved even more was that she was the cause of it, she and her fighting skills that had previously only brought pain and suffering to both her and others. She chucked another one at you, the shot followed by a hearty laugh when you let out nothing but a mere squeak as you fell to the ground to avoid being hit by her, the comical sight enough to make a few bystanders turn their heads. She chucked a few more balls at you for good measure before you were able to get back on your feet again, causing you to dramatically scramble on the ground as you played up each impact of her hits like you were aiming for an Oscar-worthy performance.

Natasha looked perfectly fine in her fur-lined leather jacket that was stylish yet relaxed, a thick scarf neatly tied around her neck, her curls pulled back into a messy bun at the back of her head. She looked all too good considering she was in the middle of a snowball fight, which prompted you to up your game. Your aim with the ammunition might not have been the best, but you had other ways of defending yourself. However, you were going to try a few more times before resorting to physical violence. She threw another snowball at you, but you managed to dodge it, a second one hitting you in the side right after, a third one on its way. You screamed, running further into the blanket of snow around you on one of the vast lawns in Central Park, Natasha’s snowballs hitting your back with impressive consistency. You took some distance, glad to notice that Natasha was taking a break from bombing you into ruins. You prepared your snowball, aiming it at Natasha before chucking it as hard as you could. It flew across the air, speeding toward her, but alas, she was always too fast. You tried to hit her at least five more times but she remained unscathed whereas you were sweaty and already looking more than disheveled with your scarf hanging down your back and your hair messy beyond repair.

“Oh, I’m gonna take you down”, you growled, throwing the snowball in your hands at the ground when Natasha hit you once more, giggling like a fool at her own success, thriving off of your misery.

“Let’s see it then.” She paused expectantly, waiting for you to reveal your next move. You were less than ten feet away from each other when you suddenly sprinted toward her, aimlessly attacking her with your hands to at least ruffle up her appearance. She let out a loud cackle that echoed across the lawn in the park, falling into the snow when your body collided with hers. She didn’t even try to fight back, pleased to feel your body press into hers as you pushed her into the foot of fresh snow that had come down during the last week of December.

“All bark and no bite”, you mumbled triumphantly, crawling on top of her to admire the way her hair contrasted against the stark white of the snow, her bright pink cheeks glowing as her smile widened. You leaned closer to her, feeling her mittens stroke over your thighs, your body beginning to warm up from inside out all on its own. Your eyes searched hers, a gloating smirk finding your lips as you leaned close enough for her to feel your breath fan over her chin. You reveled in the feeling of triumph you experienced for getting at least one hit on her, Natasha allowing you to have your moment before you went flying into the snow. You screamed again, barely able to process how insanely strong of a woman she was when your back thudded against the soft snow, and she was up on her feet, her boot pressing down on your chest.

“Fuck, that’s hot.” It slipped from you. It really just did. Natasha’s smirk turning into one of utter satisfaction. You tried to squirm beneath the firm pressure of her foot, but she really had you nailed to the ground. “Don’t turn me on. It’s not fair”, you whined, pushing her boot off your chest.

“I’m doing no such thing.” Natasha let out a slightly condescending chuckle. “You’d know if I was.” Just those words made your stomach twist pleasurably in anticipation for more.

“Yeah?”

“Oh, yes”, she hummed, crouching down beside you, her lips tugging into a happy grin that worked as a late warning for what you had coming your way. With one rough yank she flipped you face first into the snow, her hands pulling your arms back as if to detain you, a low moan falling from your lips as she straddled your hips. She chuckled softly, purposely putting more pressure over your hips by pushing herself against you, the action going straight between your legs. You bit your lip to prevent yourself from letting out another sound, the cold snow against your cheek suddenly a comforting relief as the heat bubbled up inside your thick coat. You felt her move on top of you as she leaned over you, her mouth hovering over your ear. “Feel that, detka (baby)?” You indeed felt every nerve in your body, your heart racing in your chest as you nodded your head. “That’s what I’m talking about.” You let out a soft groan of defeat, delicious sparks of warmth gliding down your spine at the weight on top of you and her sweet breath tickling your ear.

“I want a rematch”, you groaned, pushing yourself up against her in an attempt to escape, but you only made your situation worse when you heard Natasha’s small grunt right by your ear. Fuck, what a woman. The cold of the snow seeping through your clothes had never been more welcome.

“I’ll beat you every time, krasotka (pretty girl).”

“No”, you moaned, pushing yourself up against her to gain leverage from the ground beneath you, but when you couldn’t find enough strength to get her body off you, you decided to play just as dirty as her. You exaggerated the huffing that your physical straining had left you with, slipping in a sound that made Natasha throb against the curve of your buttocks. You bucked your hips, managing to free your hands from her ruthless grip that had loosened just that little bit from the wave of desire that had flashed through her. With your upper body free, you were able to push her back, sending her into the snow, her cocky smirk replaced by an intense look of want. Finally, you were affecting her. You smirked in victory, not giving her time to even try to get up as you shoved her into the snow, a puff of it flying right into your heated face as Natasha’s hair got fully doused in the powdery substance. She laughed loudly, pleased to feel you against her, truly overjoyed by the privilege of having you near. She gave up on fighting you, her hands finding the curve of your waist to caress, pulling you closer to her front, but you tutted her suddenly.

“Ah, no. This is my only weapon”, you purred condescendingly, pulling out of her reach to deny her the pleasure of touching you.

“Come on, now”, Natasha groaned, sitting up in the snow, her eyes dipping down your very non-seductive get up, but her gaze lingered, nonetheless.

“Maybe tonight”, you mused teasingly. “I’m here to fight.”

“I don’t even get a kiss? That doesn’t seem right, dorogaya (darling).” She shook her head in disappointment, giving you a small pout but you just grabbed a ball of snow and chucked it into her face. She let out a small growl when the snow pelted against her forehead, a wary squint on your face as you watched her carefully to make sure she wasn’t hurt by the impact. “Suit yourself, detka (baby).” She gave you a murderous look that had your knees wobbly as she stood up from the ground. You immediately backed away, hastily and blindly starting to run away from her but she was lightning fast. She was so fast you didn’t think humans could be so quick in their movements. She charged at you and tackled you into the ground accompanied by loud giggles from the both of you. She pretended to hit you in a sparring manner, tickling you instead, her hands ever so gentle when they connected with your body.

You play-fought until you were sweaty and disheveled, until the sun went down, returning home laughing and giggling as you entered through the door. The atmosphere inside was beyond romantic, shutting you and Natasha up instantly when you spotted Wanda and Monica on the couch in candlelight, a charcuterie board and wine on the coffee table. You and Natasha looked at each other with giddy, knowing grins on your faces before apologizing to the two women and rushing upstairs to get out of their way. You held onto Natasha’s ice-cold hand, allowing her to drag you into your room and throw you right onto the bed, the springs groaning beneath your weight. She joined you on the bed, beyond pleased that there were no thick winter clothes in the way of your bodies. You pulled her on top of you, fitting her between your legs and locking her in place by wrapping your legs around her hips. You looked at one another, your back arching to press your breasts against hers.

“Hmm, I think you owe me a kiss.” Natasha had been yearning for one all afternoon, her eyes flitting down to your mouth.

“Do I, now?” You smirked. “I don’t think so.” Natasha sighed in disappointment, leaning down, but you didn’t let her reach your mouth. Your hands stroked down her sides to grab her glutes, Natasha pressing her lips together to hide her reaction.

“You said maybe in the evening”, Natasha reminded you, her fingers tracing your neck, sending shivers down your spine as goosebumps erupted all over the area.

“Maybe”, you emphasized, Natasha groaning in annoyance.

“You’re such a little shit”, she mumbled, adjusting herself on top of you enough to make you bite your lip at the way her body shifted against you.

“It’s New Year’s Eve, baby”, you crooned, your forefinger trailing over her plump lips that were irritated and pink from the cold. They were irresistible, especially when you knew just how delicious they would feel against your own, but you didn’t let her kiss you. “Wouldn’t you wanna wait until midnight?” You gave her your best pair of doe eyes, Natasha’s hips seeming to press into your own just a little tighter.

“No.” You chuckled at her small pout. “What kind of a psychopath are you?” She asked in a sarcastic scoff that made you laugh.

“I just want it to be worth the wait”, you whispered.

“Ah, I see how it is”, she hummed a bit smugly, her hips pressing into your own with tantalizing pressure for one last time before she got off you, her left hand stroking up your inner thigh on the way, just to tease you. You wanted to cuss her for such a move, electricity shooting through you, your body longing after the pressure and warmth she had given you.

You should have known that it was a mistake to provoke Natasha in such a way, the wait until midnight turning out to be painfully slow and tantalizing. You were quite positive Natasha had never looked sexier than she did when you were downstairs with Wanda and Monica, filling your stomachs with delicious food to fuel yourselves for the coming year. Your girlfriend was jaw-droppingly gorgeous even in the most casual clothing imaginable. She needed nothing more than a flattering shirt and a pair of perfectly fitted trousers to make you crave her attention, not to even mention her loose, messy curls that you had to force yourself not to ruffle up further. However, that was not the only reason you found yourself hot and bothered during the hours leading up to midnight. Natasha knew how to play. You had always known that, but you had failed to realize how drastically you underestimated your own ability to stand her taunting gaze and teasing touches. You could barely focus on anything when those lithe fingers touched you whenever they got the chance. She was not even slightly ashamed of how high up your thigh her hand went when you sat on the couch, chatting away with Wanda and Monica, her discreet fingers brushing all too close to the apex of your thighs.

You were warm inside, every touch of her hand spreading a burning sensation across your skin, the heat reaching inside you, festering there to become a burning ball of desire within you. She was sly with her advances, managing to use even the smallest of touches to her advantage. Just a graze of her fingers against your own was enough to remind you of how good they felt inside you, how good they felt squeezing your hips hard enough for those perfect nails to leave marks into your skin. The simplest of caresses against your lower back made a shiver run down your spine as you recalled the way she had peppered the area with sweet kisses before taking you from behind. You had set your trap all by yourself but there was no backing down, not until midnight because your pride would not allow you to let Natasha win with her burning gaze and wandering hands. She would not get to win no matter how she looked at your lips and your cleavage and shamelessly eyed you like a piece of candy. It got to you, oh it got to you so well, but she would not get to know that.

Of course, Natasha could see exactly how affected you were. She noticed the way you crossed your legs shortly after slipping a lewd comment in your ear. She noticed your avoidant gaze, your fidgety hands, your flustered appearance. It was all right there for her to admire, and oh boy, did she admire. She would not waste a single second of her opportunity to gawk at you to her heart’s content. You looked absolutely stunning no matter what you did, and she made sure you knew it.

The hours left until midnight seemed to drag on forever alongside the wetness in your underwear, getting infinitely worse when Wanda and Monica left the house to go spot fireworks outside around ten in the evening. Your senses prickled in an almost overwhelming way when the door thudded shut. Your stomach lurched and your cheeks heated as you realized that there was nothing holding you back from Natasha, nothing but your own pride. You sat side by side in the dimness of the Christmas decorations, your hearts beating erratically in your chests. There were no social rules left to maintain now that Wanda and Monica were gone. You did not have to be mindful about making them feel uncomfortable with your little game. You made sure to not even look at Natasha because you had a feeling you were not going to be able to restrain yourself.

“Warm?” Natasha asked quietly, the low, deep tone of her voice sending shivers down your spine. There was nothing you could do to prevent the spark of electricity that glided down your spine and right between your legs.

“Maybe a little”, you hummed, your skin swallowed by scorching flames when you felt her hand on your shoulder. She was sitting on the couch in a slight angle to be as close to you as possible, her breasts pressing up against your arm, her fingers coming up to your shoulder, carefully moving closer to touch the area where your collarbone ended. Her fingers were cool against your hot skin, barely even brushing over it, but you felt every bit of that touch, your body tingling expectantly. You felt like you couldn’t quite breathe correctly when she was so close.

“Let me know if it gets to her too much, detka (baby).” Her voice. Her voice was too much for you to handle. It made you want to whine from frustration. The endearment, the slight accent she said it with. It was all getting to be far too delicious. She had a smug smirk on her face as her fingers traced loops on your skin, her eyes on the movie in front of you.

“I’m good.” You barely managed to slip the words out without giving yourself away. She was winning and you both knew it. You turned to look at Natasha, your eyes holding her own, their intensity boring right into your soul. The slight curve to her lips was daunting. You knew she was enjoying the situation immensely. She wanted to see you crumble, she wanted to see you give in to her. It was one of her favorite things to throw your own decisions and teasing into your face. You saw the very subtle movement of her lips as she bit the inside of it to keep her face schooled, your eyes dipping automatically to her plump lips. So what, your ego could take a hit or two. It was almost midnight anyway. Only an hour and a half to go. So what, if you took a head-start to the new year, hopefully literally. You leaned in abruptly, barely even realizing your own decision, Natasha pulling back right that second to not allow your lips to connect. She let out a slightly condescending, victorious laugh that made your stomach lurch as she gently pushed you back into your spot on the couch. She tutted you gently.

“Ah, ah, ninety more minutes, darling.” You let out a heavy sigh at her teasing.

“I didn’t even want you, by the way”, you grumbled in annoyance, crossing your arms, Natasha coming closer to you again, her fingers brushing back some of your hair to uncover your ear.

“No, of course not”, she chuckled knowingly, doing her best to sound serious, but the situation was far too amusing for her to keep a level face. “You were reaching for the remote, isn’t that right, baby?”

“Shut up.” You rolled your eyes, a smile creeping to your face as you nudged her away from you because every brush of her hand, her body, felt like pure, blissful torture.

When the clock struck eleven you felt exhausted from the effort you were putting into staying away from Natasha. You wanted any kind of contact with her. You wanted to lie on her chest and have her play with your hair, but any kind of playing would end up in you missing out on the change of years and all the pretty fireworks you wanted to witness. Hell, even sitting on the same couch was risky when all you could think about was your first time with her on that very couch. You lasted for another thirty minutes before needing to exit the house, suggesting to Natasha that you go for another walk so that you can be outside where you could properly see all the fireworks at midnight.

“I know a really good place”, you hummed as you both got off the couch, Natasha’s hand turning off the TV with the remote that sat next to her.

“Where?” She seemed curious.

“You’ll see.” The look on Natasha’s face was one of excitement, an undeniable thrill to experience more life with you.

The steady and consistent boom of fireworks going off around you welcomed you as you stepped outside into the snowy streets. You headed toward more spacious areas of the city where shooting fireworks was easier and safer, looking to spot the most beautiful ones. You walked around for a good while, talking as you pointed into the sky to make sure you both saw the same thing.

“I love the small sparkles. It’s like golden rain”, you hummed, holding onto Natasha’s hand a little tighter, making sure you were walking as close as possible to her. She looked at you for a long moment, her eyes returning to the sky just as a firework went off, green and golden sparkles flying across on the pitch-black sky.

“Me too”, she hummed serenely, her hand pointing up at the sky. “Incoming.” You both watched a large, multicolored ball of light scatter across the sky.

“That one was gorgeous”, you commented, staring up at the sky in excitement.

“Can you predict the next one?” Natasha asked as the high-pitched wheeze of a firework sounded above you, a single ball of light flying upward.

“Red.” The firework exploded right as you said it, thin, orange streaks bursting into the shape of a round figure accompanied by golden sparkles.

“Almost.” She had a gentle smile on her face.

“You try the next one.” You both slowed down at the edge of the Hudson River, coming to a full stop. The bank area gave you a good view of Brooklyn and all the fireworks people were setting off. Natasha moved behind you, her hands sliding around your waist to hug you, her chin resting over your shoulder. You leaned your head against hers, your abdomen churning with butterflies as her body pressed tighter into your backside, her arms squeezing you enough for you to feel it.

“That one is going to be blue”, she whispered into your ear, your hands coming up to her forearms to hug her back. The firework exploded loudly, golden sparks flying everywhere, followed by slightly delayed, smaller sparks that rapped in a satisfying way.

“Not quite”, you hummed gently, nuzzling closer to her chest.

“What about that one?” She nodded her head toward another large firework.

“Green.” You said it as quickly as possible, both of you watching green and red sparks burst above the water.

“You got it, baby.” She pressed her cheek against your own, hearing a little laugh from you.

“Oh, look at that! It’s pink!” You squealed, pointing at the sky again, a large ball of pink appearing in the distance.

“I think that’s the first pink one I’ve seen”, she hummed, pulling back to look at you after you turned your head to see her. You smiled at each other, the urge to kiss her growing tenfold. You could barely resist her and the only reason you managed to, was because she was able to control herself enough to place her chin back on your shoulder.

“I wanna see more blue.” You watched in silence as the fireworks exploded one after the other, your wish eventually coming true, blue and gold flashing against the midnight blue sky. “How long until midnight?” Natasha moved her left arm forward to pull up the sleeve of her coat, uncovering her wristwatch.

“Five minutes.” You glanced at each other, excitement contorting your features into wide grins of anticipation, your eyes already taking a peek at Natasha’s mouth. Her smile widened.

“Do you have any New Year’s resolutions?” Your gazes moved back to the scenery as you voiced your question.

“You. Just you. Keeping you near. And being happy, as sappy as that sounds”, Natasha mumbled, her hands rubbing your abdomen and hips to feel you better through your thick clothing and her mittens.

“Not sappy at all, love. I had something similar in mind.” You could feel her cheek move against yours as she smiled, the warmth of her face making your heart melt.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I wanna start celebrating Christmas from now on as long as it’s with you.” There was a quiet sniffle beside you, a nearly silent one that you could not tell whether it was emotional or simply a response to the cold outside, but you had a feeling it was the former.

“We’ll celebrate, always. We’ll make it a tradition.” Natasha nodded her head, nuzzling her nose into your cheek in an attempt to cover up the fact that she almost kissed your face before midnight. She had come to realize that waiting had its own kind of magic and it would have been a shame to screw it up so close to midnight. Natasha glanced at her clock again. Three more minutes.

“Are you ready for next year?” You pulled her arms tighter around you.

“I’ve never been more ready.”

“Me neither.” You both waited in silence as you looked across the river and sometimes even turned your heads to look at the fireworks on your side of the city, glancing at Natasha’s wristwatch rather consistently as you impatiently waited for the year to change. The wait was thrilling, your body feeling jittery in her embrace. You were prepared for the new year perhaps for the first time in a long time. You felt okay, you felt better than okay. You felt hopeful and you felt strong with Natasha beside you, and the feeling was beyond mutual. You had no way to truly comprehend the relief she felt. You had no idea about the safety and security she experienced in that moment with you. To know that all the explosions were simply for the entertainment and enjoyment of the citizens and not to defend Manhattan from danger. To know that you were safe and sound right there against her chest. To know that you were hers and she was yours. She had not felt such contentment in a very long time with everything that had been going on in her previous reality. But the war was over, and she could finally breathe.

“One more minute”, she whispered after checking the time again. She gave you one more squeeze before flipping you around in her arms, your smile seeming to linger vehemently on your face. You couldn’t shake it no matter what. You were far too excited about her and the unforgettable moment you were sharing.

“One more minute”, you repeated, looking at her with such longing that Natasha felt an adoring frown find her face as she took off her mittens, shoving them into her pocket to be able to touch your face with her bare hands. She caressed your skin gently, none of the fireworks around you able to steal your gaze away from her eyes. She looked so beautiful, so mesmerizing, that all you could do was look at her. You both glanced down at her watch again, waiting for the clock to strike midnight, your gazes remaining down until the minute hand finally ticked forward and hit midnight.

Your head shot up to see her, both of you looking like you were going to burst out of your seams from excitement. You wasted no time in leaning in, capturing her in a kiss so heated Natasha’s left knee nearly gave in, the fireworks going off around you in a cacophony of explosions as people shouted “Happy New Year” to everyone nearby. She parted her lips immediately for you, deepening the kiss to be dizzying, her body melting into yours, begging for more after the torturous wait she had had to endure for the day. You heard her desperate moan, felt it against your lips, your mouth devouring her to the best of your ability. You wanted every inch of her. You wanted to swallow her whole and keep her inside of you forever. There was no way to process your lust and want for her. There was nothing you could do to accurately convey the raw need you felt for her, your tongue sliding all too lewdly against her own considering you were in public, but thankfully there were not that many people close to you. The kiss lasted for as long as physically possible, every cell in your body straining for as long as biology allowed, your kiss growing fervent and sloppy. Natasha could barely manage to pull away from you, her mouth hungry for so much more, her wet kisses moving up your jaw and cheek when you pulled away for air.

“Happy New Year, love”, you moaned breathily into her ear, your arms hugging her close, your eyes wandering to the fireworks above you, explosion after another going off against the dark sky.

“Happy New Year, detka (baby).” Her hoarse voice made you dive right back into the kiss, your mouths moving in tandem, fueled by hunger and affection, the greed you experienced bleeding through with ease. You barely caught a glimpse of the lightshow going on around you, far too busy making sure your girlfriend got the New Year’s kiss of a lifetime. You could feel her smile against your lips, a small chuckle slipping from you between kisses. You’d never felt such bliss in your life, your heart beating erratically in your chest, trying desperately to feel all that it was feeling. Natasha’s body burned with the joy and excitement she felt, a few more pecks getting littered all over your mouth before she pulled away to clear out her dizzy head.

“Is it bad that I kind of want to go home?” You asked slyly, the smirk on your face telling Natasha of where the night was headed.

“Not at all, malyshka (baby).” She chuckled knowingly. “Not at all.” Your eyes moved to the fireworks around you, both of you admiring them for the short moment that you managed to spend away from each other’s lips.

Hand in hand you left your spot by the riverbank and headed back home to make sure you started your year off right, you and Natasha’s incessant and playful giggles lasting all the way home and up into your bedroom.

[catscraftsandcommentary]

I am having more thoughts about the Accidental Warlord AU, and instead of apologizing, I'm just going to drag you all with me.

Sorry not sorry, and all that. Today's thoughts are called

"People learn to lie to witchers."

Now, witchers have their fancy extra powerful senses, so they can - theoretically - tell when someone is lying to them. But as Renfri's stepmother learned, they CAN be misled. Especially in cases of "~I~ knew what I meant, it's not my fault that you interpreted my words differently. (Even though I specifically phrased it so that you WOULD easily interpret it the way I wanted, and not the way that's accurate.)"

So, here are the ways I think people could lie to witchers without getting caught (immediately):

EUPHEMISMS (especially with multiple meanings)- like when Renfri's stepmother said "I sent the soldiers on" meaning "...to their deaths" but Coën assumed "...to their homelands."

TAKING THINGS OUT OF CONTEXT - My alma mater's main library has a centaur skeleton on permant display. It's mounted in situ - ie, the bones are still in the dirt, and it is very obviously a human shaped skull and torso on a horse's body. *But* the point of the display is to show that counterfeit "evidence" can be VERY convincing, so you have to question things.

NOT GIVING ALL THE FACTS - "Trump got shot!" In the ear. He's still alive, was barely injured, and unfortunately is still running for president.

STATISTICS - you've all seen polls that are like "95% of people support horrible thing!" But then you learn that the poll runners SPECIFICALLY chose to poll supporters of that Horrible Thing, so *obviously* you got that result. Or "the average human has less than 2 arms!" Well, the vast majority of people have 2 arms, but due to injuries, birth defects, etc some people have 0 or 1 arm(s), so in a group of 1,000 people, there might be 1,995 arms, or an average of 1.995 arms per person...

DEADPAN SARCASM - I'm not sure if this would set off witchers' lie detector ability or not - possibly it would depend on whether the person *intended* to mislead the witcher and they simply didn't catch onto it, or whether a person's heart rate/scent/etc still changes anytime someone says anything remotely untrue.

EXTRAORDINARY BODY CONTROL - I once read a novel where there was a machine which measured brainwaves and somehow interpreted them to measure when someone was suppressing information (ie lying). And in a trial, an experienced criminal had trained himself to beat the detector with psychology but his less experienced partner had not.

DELUSIONS/MENTAL ILLNESS - if someone seems totally sane, but they truly believe that something impossible happened, well, they could testify that it happened. And be believed. But the answer might be "it was a hallucination" or "they were on drugs" or something similar.

-

Now, these will all fall apart under more thorough questioning/investigation - which is good! It means the truth is still there! But in order to do that questioning or investigation, the witcher has to realize that it is NECESSARY. And sometimes the first answer they get is believable, so they might not look closer.

To teach young witchers to recognize situations like this and to practice figuring out the truth, Jaskier comes up with a game that he includes with the trainees' diplomacy lessons. He calls it "For Clarity" and it involves one person making a statement which is technically accurate - but misleading - and a second person (or group) asking questions or making guesses until they figure out what the deception/full truth is.

Lambert hears about it and immediately dubs it "Find The Bullshit." Of course that name catches on.

Jaskier is TERRIFYINGLY good at this game - both sides of it - and all the witchers are reminded once again that they are INCREDIBLY lucky that he's on their side.

[samurai-smoocher]

♡ The Swordsman’s Vow ♡ (A Goemon x Eris Fanfic)

✎ One-Shot, Romance, Slow Burn, Comedy, Emotional Tension, Fluff

✎ Lupin III Fanfic, Goemon x OC, Goemon x Self Insert, Late Night Confessions, Mutual Pining

✎ 800 Words

The night air was quiet, save for the steady shhink of Goemon sharpening his blade. The others had long gone to bed, but Eris remained sprawled across the couch, draped in the soft glow of a dim lantern, lost in her own dramatic sorrows.

“What a cruel fate this is,” she sighed, dramatically pressing a hand to her forehead. “A woman of my beauty, charm, and elegance… and yet, utterly alone! Is there no man in this world who will cherish me? Who will adore me? Who will—” she sat up suddenly, throwing her hands in the air, ”—make me his blushing bride?!”

Goemon did not pause his sharpening, but his brows twitched slightly. “You are lonely?”

“Desperately!” Eris threw herself back against the cushions, an exaggerated pout forming on her lips. “Goemon, do you know how humiliating it is to be a hopeless romantic without romance? I want love! I want passion! I want someone to slip a ring onto my finger and vow to be with me forever!”

Goemon was silent for a moment. Then, in his usual measured tone, he said, “Marriage is a lifelong commitment. It should not be taken lightly.”

Eris groaned, kicking her legs in frustration. “I know that, obviously! But that’s what makes it so special! Think about it—one person, choosing you, and only you, forever. A bond of absolute devotion… doesn’t that sound beautiful?”

Goemon finally set his sword down. His fingers brushed over the hilt in thought. “It is a serious matter,” he said slowly. “A swordsman cannot wield his blade forever. At some point, he must set it down… and dedicate himself to something else.”

Eris’s dramatic flailing slowed. She turned her head to look at him, brows slightly furrowed. “Something else?”

“A home. A wife,” Goemon said simply.

Eris’s heart nearly stopped.

Her lips parted, but for once, she had nothing to say. Goemon, on the other hand, seemed unaware of the earth-shattering implications of what had just left his mouth, because he simply continued, “Marriage is an honorable path. To devote oneself entirely to another person… it is not so different from my discipline as a swordsman.”

Eris sat up fully now, staring at him, wide-eyed. “Wait, wait, wait.” She held up a hand. “You—you’ve actually thought about marriage? Like… seriously?”

Goemon exhaled through his nose, his gaze calm but firm. “Of course.”

Eris’s heart flipped over in her chest.

“Then—then—what kind of woman do you want to marry?” she asked, gripping the hem of her dress tightly.

Goemon’s gaze flickered to her, just for a moment, before looking away. “Someone who is…” He hesitated, fingers flexing against his sword. ”…difficult to ignore.”

Eris blinked rapidly. “Difficult to ignore? That could mean a lot of things.”

“It could,” he said evenly, still not looking at her.

Eris’s heart was going insane. Was—was he hinting at something? That phrasing—was that a coincidence? Or was Goemon Ishikawa XIII, the most unreadable man she had ever met, actually, possibly, kind of implying something?

Her face burned as she stared at him, and—Oh. Oh no. He was staring back.

And not just staring.

Looking.

Like, really looking.

His dark eyes held an intensity that made her stomach do a full-on backflip. The air between them grew thick, neither of them speaking, neither of them daring to move. The flickering lantern light cast soft shadows on Goemon’s face, highlighting the quiet strength in his features, the subtle tension in his jaw, the way his fingers twitched ever so slightly against the hilt of his sword.

Eris’s throat felt dry.

She had never seen him look at her like this before.

The realization made her entire face explode in warmth.

Goemon’s ears were turning red too. He cleared his throat, shifting slightly, his gaze flickering toward the floor as if he had just now realized the weight of his words.

Eris clutched her chest, her heart racing.

“G-Goemon,” she stammered, her voice higher than usual. “Are you—were you just—was that—?”

Goemon turned his head sharply to the side. “You were the one who brought up marriage.”

“Yes, but—you—!” Eris was losing her mind. He was being so weird! So suspiciously vague! So—

Her face burned even hotter.

Her emotions finally overwhelmed her, and with a dramatic groan, she flopped onto the couch, covering her face. “Oh my GOD, Goemon! You can’t just say things like that! My heart is fragile!”

Goemon exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. “I see.”

“DO you?!” she wailed, kicking her legs in frustration.

Goemon, despite his own embarrassment, let the smallest, tiniest smile cross his lips. He reached for his sword again, though his movements were slightly stiffer than before.

Perhaps, in time, he would set his sword down.

And perhaps… it would be for her.

[jjungkookislife]

Jeans

pairing: hfth!jungkook x f. reader

genre: established relationship, crack, college au, 18+

summary: Jimin buys you a pair of "coochie" jeans.

wc: 640

warnings: the word coochie is used a lot lol and implied smut?

a/n: this is not to make fun of anyone who likes these jeans, I just thought it would make an interesting drabble

date: June 20, 2024

“Jimin, I don’t need a new outfit,” you insisted as you followed him to the clothing racks of a department store. 

Jimin ignored you as he went through the jeans on one rack, eyes wide when he spotted the most unhinged pair of jeans ever. 

He doesn’t say a word as he grabs them and a few others to hide them under before shoving you into the dressing room.

Reluctantly, you try on the jeans, screaming in the dressing room before showing Jimin. 

“Jimin!”

Cackling, Jimin pops his head into the dressing room, “Oh-ho, those are worse on than I imagined.”

“We are not getting these!”

“I’ll buy them! Hoseok will have a conundrum!”

You glare at Jimin before stomping into the dressing room to change. If he wanted to waste his money on that denim abomination, that was his prerogative.

“Are you sure you can’t stay this summer?” Hoseok asks as he finishes taking your measurements for the outfit he wants to make you. Jungkook and Jimin sat on the floor, gaming controllers in their hands as they cursed when they got shot at on screen.

“I wish, but my parents got my flight tickets last semester so I can’t stay,” you inform him. Jungkook pouts beside Jimin, but remains silent. 

“Why don’t you go try on the dress we got the other day and the jeans?” Jimin chirps as he looks at you over his shoulder. The mischievous grin on his face makes you scowl as Hoseok hands you the yellow shopping bag beside him. 

“I hate you,” you utter in Jimin’s direction, but he simply blows you a kiss when you flip him off and stomp into Jungkook’s bedroom to change. 

“I’m hungry,” Jungkook states as he shuts the game off and heads for the kitchen. He’s got his head in the fridge when the door to his bedroom opens announcing your return. 

Jimin has his hand over his mouth to muffle his laughter when you appear. 

Hoseok’s eyes are wide, his jaw nearly unhinged as he takes in your pants. 

“COOCHIE JEANS?!” Hoseok screeches, grabbing Jungkook’s attention. 

“What about my girl’s coochie?” Jungkook asks as he looks up from the fridge. His jaw drops as he takes in your new pants. 

“What the fuck are those?” Hoseok feels like he’s having a heart attack. Who in their right mind would design those? Who would buy them? 

“Coochie jeans,” Jimin says, ignoring Hoseok’s middle finger aimed at him.

“Those are a fashion designer’s worst nightmare come to life! You paid for those?!”

“Jimin did,” you answer, glaring at your giggling friend. 

“Those are going back immediately!” Hoseok exclaims as he starts patting his pockets for his car keys. 

“Can we keep them for an hour?” Jungkook asks as he looks you up and down with a lustful gaze. 

Hoseok scoffs, shaking his head as he demands you change out of those monstrous jeans before you need to call an ambulance for him. 

Jungkook pouts as you walk away to change and Hoseok nearly throttles Jimin as he demands the receipt. 

“You’re not allowed to take her shopping anymore! In fact, I’ll be making all her outfits from now on!” Hoseok shakes his head as you reappear in regular jeans. 

“Aren’t you busy with your courses?” You ask as you hand over the bag with the Coochie jeans. 

“I’ll make it work if it keeps you out of these!” Hoseok shakes his head as he grabs Jimin by the ear and drags him out of the apartment, lecturing him on fashion. 

Jungkook approaches you, his arm wraps around your waist. 

“That’s too bad,” he says as he kisses your cheek. “We could have had fun with those.”

“Well, Jimin and Hoseok will be gone for a bit, why don’t we go to your room and have some fun?”

© jjungkookislife - I do not allow reposts or translations of my work on any platforms, this includes Youtube.

jeans

[op1umeyes]

Can I have Actor Aaron Warner x Actress/Singer Yn?!?

— Fry?

🎥 - synopsis. After filming a scene, Aaron suddenly gets a frog in his throat. After getting released from set, you and Aaron head to Burger King late at night. Talk of feelings ensue.

🎥 - warnings. Kissing. Sloppily put together plot. Aaron is a germaphobe. Pining. Friends to lovers. No lip kissing. SORRY FOR NOT POSTING SOONER!!! You walked into the room, clutching Aaron’s arm tightly. With owlish eyes, you took in the casino with a starstruck look. Aaron kept walking forward, keeping you close enough to him that you were enveloped with his scent- cologne, fresh mint toothpaste, the expensive gel in his hair, and like clean clothes.

“Eyes on the prize, darling girl,” Aaron murmured quietly, tucking a stray hair behind your ear before pulling pressing his lips to your forhead. You kept your cool, smiling smally at the handsome man in from of you. You nodded. The prize? Racks of gold and information in the basement.

Aaron sat down in the seat next to a fat Italian man and a muscular German. Without wasting a second, he pulled you into his lap and wrapped his non-dominant hand around your waist as he was dealt into the game.

“Nice to finally see you, sir,” a man greeted politely from across the table. “We’ve been discussing business…” he trailed off, eyes flickering to your face. “And have been awaiting your input… Should we expect your word before the next meeting?”

Aaron leaned back, tucking his cards into your soft hands, pulling your back flush against his chest. “No need to withhold details from my wife, Senator. I promise she wont say a word. In fact,” Aaron’s eyes glinted as he stared down the men at the table, “she can’t speak.”

You watched as eyebrows shot up at the use of the word ‘wife’.

“However, should you decide to take advantage of the fact that my darling girl can’t speak… I can happily promise you that I will tear you all apart: piece by piece, tendon by tendon, dollar by dollar. You will be nothing more than another worthless piece of flesh by the time I am done with you. Understood?”

The crowd nodded hastily, faces red and sweaty.

The game of poker was simply a diversion. When it ended, the amateur robbers you hired under a fake name and different face were to be ratted out. After that, the Japanese man you were playing with would be sent up to the police station to go over security measures for the vault in the basement. From there, everyone would be spoken to by numerous officers. The men, including Aaron, would give their stories, saying that they were just a group of buddies catching up over some poker.

You were to act ill and lightheaded, signing to Aaron how horrible you felt with the rush of excitement. Aaron would explain to the officer how you had a heart condition and produce fake papers from his suit pocket. The officer would nod slowly and excuse you to the bathroom where you would ‘collect yourself’.

The interviews would be fast- there were other civilians to interview as well. Aaron would excuse himself to go check on you.

Instead of going to the bathroom you went to the basement. Earlier in the month, you’d stored a security uniform in the third stall of the woman’s first floor bathroom. Aaron’s was in the vent near the ceiling in the men’s room.

Down you went, playing your role perfectly. Aaron was about three minutes and fourty-six seconds behind you. While he was in the elevator, you had disabled the camera covering the basement and looping a clip of two hours previous so it disn’t record you or Aaron.

Aaron exited the elevator, eyes searching for you in a matching black uniform. He saw you examining the red lazer maze and coughed.

You turned.

Aaron kept coughing and started pounding on his chest. You rushed over to him and pounded on his back.

“Breathe, Warner. You ruined the scene man, we’re totally dead now,” you teased.

The blond man finally stopped coughing and stood up. “Yeah. I’d be a horrible spy,” he mused.

You laughed.

The producers and directors behind the cameras all bustled around behind you, chattering and reviewing the scene.

“Well. Y/n, Aaron. Wonderful as always. Until the end, of course,” one of your produces said, shooting Aaron a smile. “You already know we’re ahead of schedule, so you guys both have the night. Get that frog out of your throat and be ready tomorrow!”

Your assistants ushered you both to the makeup room and got busy removing your makeup.

“Are you hungry, y/n?” Aaron asked, eyeing you.

You groaned. “I’m starving. Do you wanna go get something to eat?”

Aaron chuckled, replying with “I’ll pay.”

You squealed excitedly. “Even better!”

— 🎞️

A little over an hour later Aaron watched you run toward a Burger Kind with open arms in the rain. A small smile painted his lips as he entered and saw you ordering already.

The young cashier looked at you with a tilted head, his eyes narrowed like he recognized you. Aaron came up beside you and waited for you to finish before getting his food. He shoced his credit card into the other man’s hands and felt a small rush of adrenaline shoot through his veins when you wrapped your arms around his stomach and squeezed quickly before taking your drink cup and going to fill it up.

Aaron took his card back and barely made it back to your table before brandishing a bag of antibacterial wipes and bathing his credit card in it. You snickered at his actions.

“Why did you come here if you were gonna get all germaphobic?” You asked, taking a sip of your drink.

“You wanted to come here,” Aaron asked, a finality in his tone.

“But we didn’t have to if you-“

“Y/n have you seriously not noticed that I buy everything you touch when we go shopping? How I follow you and only you around on set and on vacation when you’re around? Have you not noticed how I only smile at you?” Aaron asked, genuinely confused how you didn’t notice.

Your face turned pale and you shrugged. “I didn’t want to convince myself you liked me and then break my own heart whem you find someone you truly do like.”

Aaron scoffed. “There is someone I truly like- love, even.”

You nodded, eyes avoiding Aaron’s.

“And I’m looking at her,” Aaron finished, voice soft.

Aaron’s last name was shouted out before you could open your mouth.

When the blond came back, he set the plastic tray of food down. “Eat. We don’t have to talk about this if you don’t want to, but you are the only one for me, y/n.”

You nod, picking up a fry and biting a big chunk off. “I’ll need time. You’re- I feel the same, Aaron. I just…” you trail off, happy to see that Aaron Warner is Smiling at you. You really were a fool not to see it before.

“Share a fry with me?” You ask, holding out the steaming salt-covered hunk of potato. Aaron picks it out of your fingers with his teeth and stays quiet, happy to be with you.

[charmwasjess]

you know what this is about. so, without further ado: i'll let u pick between

Jocasta + tikken (tooka kitten)

and

Rael + shrimp cocktail

RAEL + SHRIMP COCKTAIL IT IS

Furthering my beloved "Dooku wouldn't know SHIT about fancy rich people stuff in his Jedi era" agenda. I got the idea for this because I literally watched a friend do the thing at the end.

*

“Finally.” The two Jedi crash into the backseat of the airtaxi, tangling as a pair of very long legs and two shorter, albeit slightly more intoxicated ones try to find room in the tight space. The droid driver acknowledges their Temple destination coordinates, and, with a lurch and swoop, they join the Coruscanti traffic and leave the heat and noise of the event behind them. 

“What an utter, unconscionable disaster,” Dooku, usually the architect of such disasters on missions, announces before Rael can even put his standard distracting-him protocols in place. “A complete farce.” 

“Aw, Master, it wasn’t so bad…” 

Rael’s both lying and stalling, of course, trying to figure out which point of failure Dooku is even so upset about. If it’s related to Rael’s own misbehavior, or some social misstep of Dooku’s, or both. 

“Really?” Dooku’s voice rises incredulously. He’s going wide: his internal targets expanding beyond the particulars into the concept itself, his exhaustion warring with his need to deliver a scathing monologue about the very existence of such fancy political events. “An egregious waste of taxpayer resources with no purpose but pageantry, overindulgence in liquor and ego in equal measures. And both tedious and invasive! For a Jedi of my position? The delegation from Mandriss clearly felt they were entitled to my entire life story.”

“Hmm.”

“And,” Dooku’s tone is aghast now, detailing the worst of the worst, “why do they even have that fork?” 

Rael’s been doing the dutifully-listening Padawan bit, since it seems Dooku is just upset in general, not mad at him specifically, but the fork thing makes him snort. Too bad he wasn’t there to see whatever Dooku did with the fork. 

“And you?” Dooku rounds on him. “Where were you? You left me trapped with that governor!” 

Whoops. Distraction protocol. “I thought the whole thing was that you needed to talk to the governor. Fact-finding stuff. I was giving you space to work your magic!” 

“Talk to him? Yes. I needed a single piece of information from him. But our good governor would simply not…” shut up is the sentiment that flashes like heat lightning behind Dooku’s clouded presence, but of course, his dear Master would never say such a thing, so he simply groans into his hands and continues his internal combustion. 

It’s a little funny, or would be, if Rael didn’t actually feel bad for Dooku. Tall and elegant with a holostar’s velvet voice and a legitimate family connection to royal governance on Serenno, his Master makes an obvious choice to represent the Order at the occasional high-end political function. Except Rael knows Dooku’s heart is made for the battlefield, not the banquet hall. He actually loves that about him.

“I feel wretched,” Dooku admits, massaging his temples. His righteous outrage seems to be collapsing into ennui. 

Odd. When they first started together as Master and Padawan, Rael thought Dooku was a complete stoic: an unfeeling mountain. Once you got to know him though, it was actually amazing how much bitching the man was capable of. Maybe it was that Dooku treated Rael differently now than he had when he was a little kid. There weren’t actually so many years between eighteen and twenty-nine. 

“Yeah, yeah, you feel bad ‘cause you didn’t eat hardly anything.” Rael doesn’t have to guess: Dooku has that exact flavor of cranky that has the aftertaste of emptiness and unacknowledged need that always just made everything worse.

Dooku glowers at him. 

Rael slings an arm around his shoulders, affection –or possibly the several atomic sting shots he’d taken with the bridesmaids - bubbling up in his chest. Hell, he loves this old man.

“Here,” Consoling now, Rael fishes into his robe pocket. “Want some shrimp?” 

“Shrimp?”

He holds out the upsettingly pink offering for Dooku. Five nice, plump cocktail shrimp. Only a little warm from his body heat. Better that way, really. 

Dooku is quiet. 

“Got the cocktail sauce in the other pocket.” 

Rael can’t decide if it is awe or horror dawning in his Master’s eyes. Hell, maybe it’s both. 

“They weren’t… even serving shrimp?” That deep, polished voice of Dooku’s is oddly faint. 

Yeah. Maybe not at the event Dooku was at. Now, at the wedding party taking place on the event space’s lower level, on the other hand… Rael fixes on his widest, most appealing grin. 

A Master may keep a few private secrets, Dooku is sometimes fond of saying, usually about something totally obvious to Rael, like the source of the occasional mark on his collarbone, the one that's always the exact same size and shape as Sifo-Dyas’s mouth. 

Well, Rael figures, a Padawan can keep some too. 

Dooku glances between his open palm and his smile, calculations happening behind his eyes. 

It doesn’t matter. Rael already knows he’s going to eat the shrimp.