#secondly if you will insist on running

[your-fuccked-up-dad-volume100]

Forced kisses while you cry, push at my chest & try to turn your head away. Grabbing your jaw to face me & growing hard at your failed attempts to escape. Too bad you’re embarrassingly weak. Are you even trying? I don’t think so, you want this. It’s okay, you can tell me. Say it.🔪

[once-upon-an-imagine]

What Was I Made For? - James Potter

A/N: well, it looks like this keeps on working so... I hope you guys like it!

Anonymous asked: Request for hufflepuff black!reader x James with the prompt "Forget it. Just like you forget everything else." Where reader has never had a fun birthday celebration and usually ignores her birthday but James promises to do something fun for her and gets her hopes up but then stands her up accidentally (with happy ending please). Thanks so much <;33

Warnings: this is super angsty! (and super long) but it has a happy ending; mentions of abuse and overall a not happy family life, reader feels weird for not really knowing how to express her feelings; let me know if I missed anything

Disclaimer: I don’t own Harry Potter :) gif isn’t mine :D  

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

What Was I Made For?

Think I forgot how to be happy Something I'm not, but something I can be Something I wait for, something I'm made for

12:08 a.m. Your birthday was over. And he didn’t come. Of course, he wouldn’t come. You kept looking at your watch feeling a tiny bit of hope that he would come running any second, apologizing for being late. But, deep down, you knew it wasn’t going to happen. You sighed, running a hand through your hair, and decided to finally leave. You were angry. But not at him. At yourself. You should have known better. You never should have trusted a word he said. Because he treated you as if you were the center of his universe. And you were stupid enough to believe him. Because that’s what James Potter did. He made you feel as if you were the only thing that mattered to him. Damn him and his stupid beautiful smile. The one that got you into this mess…

“You actually want me to believe that you need my help in Potions?” you insisted as he raised his hands in surrender while you pointed your wand at him. “Why are you asking me?”

“B-because you’re top of our class-”

“That’s not true. Severus Snape is” you insisted.

“First of all, I would never ask Snivelly for help” he rolled his eyes. “And secondly, I doubt that’s true since you are a year younger than us and are already taking Advance Potions-”

“So ask Lilly Evans then-?”

“Evans hates me-”

“So do I!”

“Wait, y-you do?” he asked, confused, stepping away from your wand. He sounded genuinely hurt.

“I…” you weren’t able to continue. You never really hated James Potter. You hated him because you were supposed to, weren’t you? ��D-don’t you?”

“I don’t hate you” he informed you. “Why would I?”

“Because Sirius does! And you’re his best friend” you told him. James noticed the hurt in your voice and in your look. He knew you missed Sirius.

“Your brother doesn’t hate you” he insisted and you scoffed, looking away and lowering your wand. “He doesn’t!”

“Look, Potter, you don’t have to lie, okay?” you glared at him a little. “Isn’t your father a famous potioneer? Shouldn’t you be good at Potions?”

“Yeah, he is… you gotta love the irony, love” he smirked.

“Don’t call me that!” you glared at him. “What if Sirius finds out?”

“He won’t” he assured you. “And I honestly don’t think he would mind if he does” he tried.

“What’s in it for me?”

“Isn’t the loveliness of my company enough, love?” he asked but he saw you raising your wand at him and he put up his hands in surrender. “Fine… what do you want?”

You thought about it for a moment. Nobody had ever asked you what you wanted. Not really. You were always just told what to do. And then, you thought of the one thing you had always wanted but could never do.

“Um… if I tell you… do you promise not to tell anyone? Or um… laugh at me?” you said, feeling your cheeks burn as you looked down. James had to admit, he had never seen you like this. You always looked so confident, like everyone else in the Black family.

“I promise” he said, making you sigh.

“W-would you teach me um… how to uh- f-fly?” you asked in a small voice, James wasn’t sure if he heard you correctly.

“Um… didn’t you learn how to fly in your first year?” he asked, confused.

“Look, it’s a long story. Are you in or not?” you asked, going back to your usual self and James let out a small chuckle.

“Fine. It’s a deal. You teach me Potions, I teach you to fly” he said, putting his hand so you would shake it. Which you did, pulling him closer.

“And Sirius is not to find about this, is that clear?”

“Perfect.”

And that’s what it was. Perfect. For the following months, you and James spent a lot of time together. In the beginning, you found him incredibly obnoxious since he kept trying to become your friend. Which he quickly managed. You let your guard down and found yourself actually liking his company. And then, it grew into more. You never thought it could happen, but it did. He had somehow become your favorite person. Granted, not many people talked to you so, it wasn’t hard. But if there was a word you would use to describe James Potter was, enchanting. And you quickly fell for him. And you hated it. Because now, here you were. Tired, hungry, alone, and upset. You made your way to the Kitchens, hoping that you could at least get some leftovers from the Elves.

“Miss Black” one of them greeted you happily. “We thought you weren’t going to make it” he said, making you frown in confusion.

“M-make it? What do you mean, Blim?” you asked, confused as two other elves carried a basket your way.

“Mr. Potter asked us to save this for him but he never came” he explained, confused. “Said it was really important for Miss Black’s birthday” he instructed as they handed you the basket. You felt yourself smiling a little but quickly wiped it away. He never came.

“Thank you so much, Blim” you told him.

“You’re welcome. Happy birthday, Miss Black” he said, as they waved you goodbye. You thanked them happily, after all, they were the only ones that had wished you a happy birthday, and then you made your way to your dorm.

“Hi, Ophelia” you greeted your beautiful black cat.

At least she showed up for your birthday. You changed into your pajamas, played some of your favorite music on your record player, and sat on the small seat you had created against your window to go through the picnic basket only to find your favorite food. He’d remember. Everything was perfect, even the cake. Except, he hadn’t been there. He promised he would and you believed him. You knew Gryffindor played today. You knew they won. But he promised. And you believed him.

But again, it was your fault, really. You should have never let him in. You should have never told him what your favorite food was. Or why you didn’t know how to fly. Or that nobody in your house wanted to share a dorm with you anymore. You shouldn’t even have told him that today was your birthday. Well, yesterday. Because you now understood what he felt for you. It was pity. It wasn’t love.

“Alright, are you ready?” he asked, holding up the broom.

“Actually… I’m having second thoughts about this. I don’t want to do it” you said, nervously.

“Come on, love. I promise you’re gonna love it” he insisted.

You had grown accustomed to him calling you love by now. No matter how much you begged him, he wouldn’t stop. And no matter how much you tried to deny it, you were starting to like it.

“B-but what if I fall?” you asked, making him smile at you adorably and grabbing your hand.

“I promise I would never let that happen” he said sincerely. “But… we don’t have to do this today if you don’t want to” he assured you.

“No, it’s okay” you said, unconvincingly. “I just… need a minute” you told him, sitting down on the grass of the Quidditch pitch.

“Look, I know you’ve told me not to ask why you didn’t learn to fly sooner so…” he said, sitting down next to you. “May I ask why you want to learn now? Why is it so important to you?”

“I don’t know” you said, quietly as you started playing with the grass next to you. “My mother has told me not to my whole life” you informed him. “She always said it wasn’t for ladies” you said, bitterly. “On my first year, she sent an owl saying that she may not be able to control which house her disappointing daughter was sorted into but I was not to ride a broom, and well… you know nobody wants to go against Walburga Black” you said with a sad chuckle. “I always wanted to learn because Siri and Reggie- um… Sirius and Regulus both know how to and they love it” you continued. “I guess I wanted to have something in common with them” you smiled sadly. “Are you… are you crying?”

“I’m sorry” he said, wiping away the few tears on his cheeks. “That was just… um, w-well, every story Padfoot tells me from your home it’s just…”

“Sad, I know” you said as James composed himself. “You can say it” you told him.

“Is it… as bad for you as it is for Sirius?” he asked, worriedly.

“A little” you admitted. “At least Sirius has you, Remus, and Peter” you smiled a little.

“You have me too” he said, placing your hand on top of yours and making you look up at him. “You know that, right?” he asked, feeling his heart beating faster when your smile got bigger.

“You’re sweet, James” you said, surprising him a little. “What?”

“I think that’s the first time you call me by my first name” he smiled.

“Oh, s-sorry, um-”

“No, no” he chuckled. “I liked it” he assured you. “I um… I like you” he said, feeling his cheeks blushing.

“Y-you do?” you asked, breaking James' heart at how genuine your question sounded. As if you were actually confused as to why someone would like you.

“Of course, I do” he said, cupping your cheek gently.

“A-are you about to kiss me?” you whispered.

“Is that okay?” he asked sweetly and you nodded smiling before James gently pressed his lips against yours.

You had no idea what you were feeling. Your entire body felt as if fireworks were exploding everywhere. Never, in a million years would you have thought that kissing James Potter would feel so perfect, but now that you knew, you never wanted to stop.

“Alright. I think I’m ready” you said once you pulled apart. James smile at you and got up, offering you his hand to help you. “Y-you promise I won’t fall, right?”

“Promise, love” he said, pulling you closer and kissing your hand.

Lies. From that moment. You never should have fallen for him. How could you have been so stupid? James may have been right, every story from your childhood was extremely unhappy, but you had never felt so empty inside. Having a best friend who then turned into something more and you were sure that you felt was something that you had never felt before, and now it was gone.

You hoped listening to sad songs would help you cry but your eyes seemed dry. You felt the pain in your heart, which was weird. You never felt that before. But you thought you might as well cry. James said it might help whenever you felt upset. But it ended up being him who cried. And not you. So, you were about to just go to bed, when you heard someone knocking loudly on your door. At 1:47 in the morning. You sighed, rolling your eyes, and quickly ran over to open the door, revealing nobody on the other side.

“James, what the bloody hell are you doing? You’re going to wake up my entire house!” you said, pulling him inside and closing the door as he removed the cloak around him.

“I’m sorry, love! I am so sorry I’m late! I swear I lost track of time!” he slurred out.

He was drunk. Really drunk. He was still in his Quidditch robes, drunk out of his mind.

“Potter, you’re-”

“No, no, no! Please don’t call me Potter” he said, walking closer to you and grabbing your hands. “You only call me that when you’re mad” he pouted. “I know I screwed up but I promise I will make it up to you, love!”

“James, you’re drunk-”

“I know! There was a party because we won and I swear I was just going to be there for a few minutes b-because I’m the captain a-and I just lost track of time and-”

“You should leave” you said, quietly, avoiding his eyes. You knew you would cave if you looked into his beautiful doe-eyed face. And you had made up your mind.

“No, no, sweetheart, please I want to make it up to you. Please give me a chance!”

“You are drunk right now-”

“I know, I know. I’m sorry” he insisted. “I can- I just need to-”

“James, please. I’m tired and you’re drunk. Just go to bed” you said, firmly. “We can talk tomorrow if you want to” you told him.

“I don’t want you to be alone” he said, his eyes tearing up. “It’s your birthday!”

“It’s no longer my birthday so… you can go” you said, getting upset.

“I don’t want to leave you” he said, getting closer to you and cupping your cheek softly, making you look at him. “Please, love. I am so sorry” he said. “Please talk to me, just tell me how I can make this right. You can yell at me! You can throw things, I deserve it-”

“James, I don’t want to yell at you” you said, sighing tiredly. “I just want to go to sleep” you told him.

“I don’t want to leave you, love” he said, with a few tears escaping his eyes and bringing you closer. He was about to kiss you and you smelled the Firewhisky in his breath so you pulled away and he kissed your forehead instead.

“Fine” you sighed. “Y-you can stay but I’m tired, I just want to go to sleep” you gave in.

“Okay” James said, feeling his eyes welling up. He couldn’t believe he had failed you. Just like everyone else in your life. He fucked up. He slowly walked over to your bed and sat down. “Is… this okay?” he asked nervously.

“Sure” you said, sounding exhausted.

You threw yourself on your bed, turning your back to him and James quickly climbed next to you. You instantly felt his arm wrap around your waist, pulling you to him. You sighed deeply, preparing yourself for what was to come. You were going to miss him. You knew that much. You hated how used you had become to him. How regular it just seemed for him to show up and spend the night with you. So, you took it in. His scent, his touch, everything about him because you knew it would be gone by tomorrow.

“I’m really sorry, love” you heard him say before he kissed the back of your head.

“Just… go to sleep, James” you whispered back and it wasn’t long before you heard his snores.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

The next morning, James woke up to an empty bed, and the realization of the night before quickly came flooding back into his mind. He quickly sat up and saw you on your desk, writing on some parchment.

“Um- w-what time is it?” were the first words that came out of his mouth and he cursed himself. He was beyond stupid.

“It’s still early” you replied as you continued doing whatever it was you were doing. “If you hurry, you can still go to breakfast before your friends wonder where you are” you said, quietly.

“N-no. I don’t want to go to breakfast” he said, walking over to you. “I want to apologize and talk to you” he said, looking down at the parchment you were working on. “W-what’s that?”

You finished writing and stood up, handing the piece of parchment to him with a serious expression on your face.

“A list of people who are not Severus Snape that can tutor you in potions” you simply said, trying to make your way to your window seat.

“W-what?” he panicked.

“I have your things here” you said, handing him a box with his things. “Oh” you said, realizing you were wearing his sweater so you quickly took it off and placed it on top of his things. “Sorry” you said, and you felt like you were freezing.

“Wait, you’re- you’re breaking up with me?” James asked, placing everything aside and walking closer to you. “Please, just… hold on a second. I promise I can explain-”

“James” you said, taking a step back. It unnerved James how calmly you were talking to him. Like you did in the beginning. Like your walls were up again and he meant nothing more than a stranger to you. “I just don’t think that this is working” you said, silently.

“Please, don’t do this, love! I swear I want to make it up to you” he said as a few tears started falling down his cheeks.

“Why are you crying?”

“Because I love you!” he shouted a bit louder than he intended to. “I know I fucked up and I am so sorry! But please, love, just give me another chance, I swear I didn’t mean to miss it-”

“That doesn’t matter, James-”

“Yes, it does! I know you’re angry, and you have every right to be, I understand that! But this is a fight, I- I can make it up to you and w-we can go back to the way it was-”

“Why would we do that?” you asked, confused.

“Because that’s what couples do!” he insisted.

“We’re not a couple, James” you said, sounding broken.

“Yes, we are!”

“No, we’re not. You never asked me to be your girlfriend. We’ve never gone out on a date. You barely talk to me outside these walls-”

“You said you didn’t want Sirius to know about us! I told you I didn’t care!”

“That doesn’t make a difference, James!”

“Yes, it does! Because I love you!”

“No, you don't!”

“Yes, I do! I love you so much and I know you love me too!”

“Okay, now you’re just being ridiculous, Potter” you said, with a sarcastic chuckle as you tried to walk into your bathroom but James blocked your way.

“No, I’m not!” he said, softly as you tried to look away. He gently cupped your cheek with his big, strong hand and slowly lifted your face so you could see him. Not even a sign of tears while his eyes were flooded. “Tell me you don’t” he said, quietly.

“E-excuse me?” you asked, confused.

“Tell me you don’t love me” he said. “I know you’ve never said that you love me but whenever I tell you that I do, you smile and you kiss me! You’ve never said that you don’t! So, tell me you don’t love me” he insisted.

“James!”

“No! If you want to break up with me, at least talk to me first! You at least have to tell me how you feel about me!” he argued.

“You wanna know how I feel about you?” you snapped pushing yourself away from him.

“Yes!”

“You really want to know how you make me feel?” you said, getting upset.

“Yes!”

“I have no idea how you make me feel, James!” you snapped, breaking James’ heart. “Y-you make me feel happy and angry, and scared, and sad, and crazy, and warm, and vulnerable, and like I can break at any moment, but I somehow know that I won’t because you won’t let that happen but then I feel so lost if you’re not there! And I feel weak and confused, and-” enchanted. “And, alive and like I can float, and sure but unsure at the same time, and like I can be myself and I want to try to be a better person but it wouldn’t matter because you still look at me with that stupid grin! And- and-” you said, trying to take deep breaths. “I don’t know! It’s just a lot all at once and I don’t know how to handle it and I don’t like it!” you said, trying to catch your breath. “I don’t like it, James!”

“Okay, okay!” James said, quickly walking over to you and placing his hands on each side of your face. “Breathe, love, please” he said quietly, as you slowly tried to catch your breath and stop shaking. James was now fully weeping but a small smile formed on his face. “Sweetheart” he said, quietly. “That’s love” he told you.

“W-what?”

“What you’re feeling” he explained. “That’s love” he insisted.

“How do you know that?” you asked, confused.

“Because that’s exactly how I feel about you” he said as you managed to even your breathing again.

“I don’t like feeling scared” you whispered.

“I know, love” he smiled. “I know, and I’m scared too-”

“Then why would you still want to be with me?”

“Because I love you” he repeated. “And… you’ve made me the happiest I’ve been and I know that I fucked up yesterday, I do, but I promise I will make it up to you and, if you let me, I will spend the rest of my life making you as happy as you make me, love” he said in a serious tone.

You took a deep breath. You wanted to. You really did. You wanted to know what was on the other side and if you could live a ‘happily ever after’ that you read in so many stories when you were a kid. But this was real life. And you couldn’t break James Potter like you broke everything else you touched.

“No, James” you said, pushing away from him.

“B-but-” he tried but you walked away, going to your bathroom.

“Please, James. Just… forget it. Like you forget everything else" you said sadly before you walked inside, locking the door and your heart broke when you still heard him cry.

James turned to look at the box you left with all of his things. He couldn’t bring himself to take it. He needed to make things right. He walked out of your dorm and your house and made his way over to the Gryffindor Tower, not even caring about breakfast. He plopped himself on the furthest sofa, and after a while, he heard giggling and a group of girls walking over to him.

“Hey, Potter” Marlene asked. It wasn’t usual to see him without his three friends and his energy was entirely different today. “You okay?”

“Um… can I ask you, girls, something?” he said as Marlene, Dorcas, Lily, and Alice sat around him. “I would ask my friends but… in this particular subject they all are just… useless” he chuckled sadly.

“Is it about a girl?” Alice asked.

“Well… yeah” he admitted.

“Oh, Merlin it is! Who is it?” Dorcas asked, excitedly.

“I can’t… say it out loud, Sirius can’t know!”

“He’s your best friend, why can’t he know?”

“Because it’s his sister” Lily smirked.

“What?” the other three reacted shocked.

“How did you know?” James asked, confused.

“I’ve seen you in Potions” she shrugged. “You two are cute together” she smiled. “So, what happened?”

“Well, we had been seeing each other for a while now and yesterday was her birthday and I promised her that we would do something and I had this whole picnic planned in the Astronomy tower but… I lost track of time and-”

“No!” Alice said, her smile dropping.

“You didn’t!” Dorcas frowned.

“You forgot?” Marlene asked, slapping his arm.

“I didn’t mean to! We were playing with our secondary team because we had so many hurt players, I didn’t think we would win! And then we did and I started drinking and I just lost track of time!”

“You are unbelievable potter!” Marlene glared at him.

“I want to make things right! I love her and I’m pretty sure she loves me to-”

“Pretty sure?” Alice asked with an arched eyebrow.

“W-well, she hasn’t said it, exactly, but I know she feels it” he insisted. “Look, this is the first time I’ve felt like this in my life and I know that I fucked up but… I also know she’s scared and it just… I want to make things right” he insisted.

The four girls shared looks amongst themselves before they went back to James and Lily nodded.

“Alright, we’ll help you” she agreed.

“Really?”

“Yes, but only because she has looked happier lately, and you seem to actually be sorry. But if you fuck this up again, Potter-” Dorcas threatened.

“I know, I swear, I won’t!” he told them.

“Alright, then” Alice smirked.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

“What are you doing here?”

“For fuck’s sake!” you jumped, falling down the stairs you were on and landing on the floor. “Sirius!” you said, getting up. “What the bloody hell are you doing here?” you glared at your older brother.

“I asked first” he shrugged.

“None of your business” you said, rolling your eyes. “You?”

“Same” he said.

“Fine. This has been lovely, then” you said, trying to walk out of the class but Sirius stopped you.

“Okay, no! Wait!” he said, grabbing your arm and turning you around. “I was… looking for you” he admitted.

“If you’re planning on stealing my Potions essay, I haven’t finished it yet-”

“No, that’s not it” he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I… wanted to… um… talk to you” he said, awkwardly.

“Why?” you asked, genuinely confused.

“Well, there are… a few things I wanted to tell you” he admitted. “If um… you’d like to come with me to the… Lake or something” he said.

“Well, since you asked so normally” you said, still confused. But this was the first time that Sirius talked to you in so long, you really didn’t want to take it for granted, so you followed him. Once you reached to the Great Lake he sat down near a tree and pointed his side so you would join him. “So… did you bring me here to kill me or-”

“Shut up” he said with a faint chuckle. He then looked inside his bag and got out a small present. “Here” he said, handing it to you. “Um… happy birthday” he said quietly. You raised your eyebrow at him before grabbing the gift.

“Is this thing going to catch fire or something?”

“No!” he argued. But he couldn’t really blame you for thinking that. “No, I promise, I just… I know I’m a day late-”

“You’re about six years late but, alright” you said a bit harshly.

“I guess I deserve that” he muttered as you opened your present and you saw all of your favorite candy from Honeydukes. “I… wanted to say that… I’m sorry” he said.

“Um… why?”

“What do you mean why? For shutting you and Regulus out when I got sorted into Gryffindor and then… still not reaching out to you when you were sorted in Hufflepuff-”

“No, I know but… I mean… why now? Do you need something? Are you dying? Am I dying?”

“Stop it, bug!” he said, rolling his eyes and then looking at you when he realized what he had just called you. You felt your heart stopping for a moment.

“You… you haven’t called me that in a very long time” you said, feeling warmth in your heart. Once you thought was absolutely gone.

“I know… I’m sorry, if you’re not okay with it-”

“It’s okay” you quickly said. “I… kind of missed it” you admitted, looking away.

“You used to hate it” he chuckled.

“Yeah, I know but… once it was gone…” you sighed.

“We’re both really bad at this, aren’t we?” he laughed a little and, to his surprise, you did too.

“We definitely are the worst at feelings” you admitted. “Why are you apologizing to me now?” you asked curiously.

“A couple of reasons” he said. “I miss you” he admitted and you glared at him a little. “I really do!” he insisted. “Look, I get that we are awful at feelings and all that but… I’ve kind of been working on it and… I just… I want a relationship with my little sister” he said genuinely.

“Those are big words, Sirius” you chuckled. “What do you even know about relationships?”

“Well… I’m… currently in one” he said, looking away.

“You are?” you asked, a bit shocked and he nodded. “Wow, who’s the unlucky girl?”

Sirius let out a scoff, glaring at you. “Actually… it’s not a girl” he corrected.

“Is it Lupin?” you asked as Sirius widened his eyes in surprise.

“How did you know?”

“Well, it’s pretty obvious, you sink a deeper level of idiot whenever you’re around him” you informed him.

“That’s not true!”

“Yes, it is. Last week you knocked down your cauldron and three others when he laughed” you pointed out.

“That was… an accident” he tried to defend himself.

“Sure, it was” you said sarcastically.

“So… what do you think?” he asked, nervously.

“Why would you care what I think?”

“Well, you’re my sister, and… you’re also… the first person I’ve told” he admitted.

“Really?”

“Y-yeah” he said with a nervous smile.

“Well, if I’m being completely honest… I think Remus can do a lot better than you” you said with a smirk, making Sirius push you a little and glare at you.

“That’s not funny” he argued.

“I wasn’t joking” you said. “Is he… the one that’s making you get in touch with your feelings?”

“Kinda” he admitted. “You know, he and James grew up in a functional home, and… they know how to feel like a normal person” he informed you. “So… a few months ago, I was where you are right now” he added.

“What are you talking about?” you asked, nervously.

“I’m talking about you and Prongs and how you are afraid of being in a relationship with him” he said, casually.

“W-what? D-did James say-?”

“He didn’t say anything, but he’s a terrible liar” he shrugged. “I’ve known for a while and… to be honest, I have never seen him as happy as he is with you” he told you. “And… I have never seen him as miserable as today” he added. “So, I knew you were probably feeling worse, but… had no idea how to express it” he told you.

“How would you even know that?”

“Because you’re just like me” he told you. “A few months ago, Remus and I had our first fight. He told me that he loved me and… I kind of ran away” he said. “We didn’t speak for about three days. I was in such a bad mood, even I didn’t want to deal with myself” he explained. “Look, I know that we are wired differently than everyone else because mum and dad didn’t exactly teach us how to… feel or… love” he continued. “So, when someone does, it feels-”

“Fucking weird” you added.

“Yeah” he agreed. “But… that doesn’t mean that we can’t, you know that, right? And it doesn’t mean we don’t deserve it, bug” he told you. “I know I screwed up on my part and I am really sorry for pushing you away-”

“Why did you do it?” you asked all of the sudden. “I get that you were angry when you came back home from your first year but… Regulus and I never thought any different from you and you… shut us down” you said, sadly. “And then… the next year, when I was sorted into Hufflepuff, I thought maybe-”

“I know! I should have talked to you, I know, I was an idiot!” he said, genuinely. “Remus has made me talk about it a lot lately and… I want to make things right” he sighed. “You don’t have to forgive me if you don’t want to and I don’t expect you to do it right away if you do, I just… had to start somewhere” he smiled, hopeful.

“By giving me candy and saying happy birthday a day later?” you smirked a little. “It’s a good start, I guess” you nodded, grabbing a Sugar Quill and giving him one.

“Well, I also… wanted to help you fix things with Prongs” he suggested.

“Because you love James so much now that you are an expert on feelings and don’t want to see him sad?”

“Well… sort of, but… I love you too, bug” he said, making you almost choke on your sweet. You were pretty sure he had never said that before. “I know, we don’t really say that to each other or anyone else. Remus was the first person I ever said it to. It feels good, you should try it” he continued. “I know you love James-”

“How could you possibly know that? Even I don’t know that!”

“I think that you do and that’s why you’re so scared” he told you. “And I know I’m probably the last person that should be telling you this but… there’s nothing wrong with that” he assured you.

“It’s just…” you sighed. “W-what if he realizes how broken I am and he doesn’t want to be anymore?” you asked, sadly, breaking Sirius’ heart a little. “Or if I end up breaking him?”

“Bug, you’re not that broken-”

“Really? Do you want to know what I was doing in Potions class? I was looking for something that would make me cry” you explained.

“Really?”

“Yes, James cries all the time, did you know that?”

“Yeah, he cried when Moony and I told him we were dating” Sirius laughed.

“I feel empty without him, Sirius, and yet… not a single tear!”

“Well, that doesn’t mean you’re broken” Sirius insisted. “We never cry” he continued. “Blacks don’t cry” you both said at the same time, letting out a small laugh. “We’ll get there, bug” he said, pulling you to him and kissing the side of your head.

“We?” you asked, a little confused.

“Oh yeah, now that you have accepted me back into your life I’m not leaving-”

“Can I reconsider this-?”

“Nope, it’s too late! We’re going to be best friends, bug!”

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

You had surprisingly spent the rest of the day with Sirius, and Remus had joined at some point. They took you to Hogsmeade as Remus insisted on at least taking you out for your birthday. You liked Remus, and you could see that he definitely brought out the best in your brother. They seemed very in love. And at some point, it dawned on you. You were in love with James. He had been right. What you felt for him, was love. You were still terrified but you had made up your mind to talk to him the next day. Remus and Sirius even said the four of you could go to Hogsmeade together. This was definitely the craziest thing you had ever gone through in your life. But you were done feeling sorry for your self and you were done being afraid. You definitely did not want to spend the rest of your life like your parents. Feeling nothing and being unhappy. So, you would talk to James and try to be happy for once. However, when you opened your dorm’s door, you saw that he had already gone ahead of you.

Your mouth dropped when you saw the scene in front of you. Your dorm was decorated with beautiful fairy lights above, like floating stars, and candles and flowers everywhere. James was in the corner, finishing putting some flowers next to your bed.

“James?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, love- I uh-” he stuttered, walking closer to you. “Um, I know you told me to f-forget about it but…” he sighed, offering you the last flower in his hand. “I don’t want to” he chuckled. “I don’t want to forget about it and… I don’t want to forget about you” he explained. “Love, I know that I majorly fucked up” he continued. “And you have every right to hate me and never forgive me if you want to but… I wanted to give you the birthday that I had planned for you first. The birthday that you deserved before I royally fucked it up” he said, grabbing the picnic basket on your window seat.

“Did you ask the elves to do the whole meal again?”

“N-no” he assured you. “Um… I did it myself” he said, making your heart flutter a little. “Granted, I… uh, I don’t think it’s going to be as good” he chuckled. “So, we don’t have to eat it if you don’t want to” he assured you before he placed the basket back down. “I um… I also didn’t get to give you your present” he said, grabbing a bag on your nightstand.

“You-” you felt something weird happening. “You got me a present?”

“Of course, I got you a present, love” James smiled sweetly. “Would you like to open it? Or we can eat first if you’d like. Or you can eat. And I can leave if you prefer-”

Before he could go on, you quickly grabbed the bag from him. James smiled to himself at how excited you looked, opening your gift. And then, you pulled it out. A book. And a stuffed rabbit. An exact rabbit like the one in the book. Wearing a small knitted cardigan with Gryffindor colors. Just like the one James had given you.

“What-?” you tried to catch your breath. “H-how did you-?”

“The sweater comes off” he smiled. “I asked my mum to make it, I thought it would look cute because you like mine so much” he explained.

“N-no, how um- how did you know-?”

“You told me, remember?” he frowned, confused. “How when you were a kid, and your mum took you and your brothers to Diagon Alley and you ran off and got lost and ended up in a muggle library” he continued. “And you read that book and you always wanted a rabbit like that one-”

“Y-you remember that?” you asked, in complete disbelief.

You told him that story so long ago. You remember it perfectly. It was the first night he stayed in your dorm and you ended up talking all night. You had no idea he would remember it. It felt like forever ago.

“Of course, love” he said as if it was obvious.

Before either one of you could say anything else, you threw your arms around James’ shoulders and you planted a big kiss on his lips. James widened his eyes in surprise a little before he closed them and wrapped one of his arms around your waist and he placed his other hand on your cheek.

“This is…” you sighed when you pulled apart and you looked down at your rabbit. “This is the nicest thing anybody’s ever done for me” you chuckled.

"Um... I also wanted to ask if... you would like to be my girlfriend?" he said, nervously.

"I would really like that" you nodded.

“Wait, are you… are you crying?” James asked, brushing a few tears with his thumb.

“A-am I?” you asked as a smile appeared on your face. You brought your hand up to your face and you saw that it was, in fact, covered in tears. “I’m crying!” you chuckled as you noticed James’ eyes welling up as they usually did. “James, I’m crying!”

“I can see that, love” he smiled brightly at you. “I’m really sorry I forgot your birthday” he said, pulling you closer.

“It’s okay” you assured him. “You cooked for me” you said with a small laugh.

“I also apologize for that. I have no idea what I was doing” he warned you.

“It can’t be that bad” you assured him. “Would you like to join me?”

“R-really?”

You nodded, grabbing his hand and pulling him towards your window. You sat down as James pulled out the food, smiling when he saw you playing with your rabbit’s ear and going through the pages of your book. He had never seen you smile like this. And he promised to himself that he would do anything he can to keep that smile placed there.

“James?”

“Yes, love?”

“Um… please don’t cry when I say this but… uh, you were right… earlier today” you said, nervously before you cleared your throat and you looked at him. “I love you” you admitted, feeling an enormous weight off your shoulders. And of course, James’ tears quickly ran down his cheeks.

“Y-you do?” he asked with a sweet smile and you nodded.

“I’m sorry it took me so long to say it” you said, nervously. “I just… well, y-you know Sirius and I don’t really- um… I was just… scared because we were sort of instructed to… not really feel anything and I just… didn’t want to screw things up with you because you are very in touch with your emotions and I’m a bit broken that way-”

“You’re not broken, love” he insisted, holding your hand in his. “I wish you could see yourself as I see you. Because you’re perfect” he said, making you smile a little. “And I love you so much” he said, pulling you for another kiss and he felt your smile against his lips. “Say it again” he asked when you pulled away.

“James-”

“Please” he pouted, making you laugh and roll your eyes a little.

“I love you” you said, making him throw his arms around you and pulled you to him, peppering your face with kisses as he heard you laugh, which was his favorite music.

“I love you too!”

The End

[Bonus Scene The Next Day at The Three Broomsticks...]

"Sirius... are you crying?" Remus asked his boyfriend.

"It's just so beautiful" he said, wiping his tears as you rested your head against James' shoulder. "How Prongs set everything up for her birthday after he forgot and he got her that cute rabbit" he said, while Remus chuckled and hugged him and he looked at James.

"You kind of opened the gate for Blacks to cry, you know that right?"

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

A/N: I really love how this turned out so I hope you liked it too! xD let me know what you think! Remus is coming next and then Sirius!

[tinytennisskirt]

best friend!patrick zweig who is totally not in love with you…

headcanons with a plot <3

warnings: mentions of sex, kissing, marijuana, smoking, casual touches, jealousy, and silent yearningggg

- insists that he drives you home even if you’re the slightest bit tired. you yawn at his place- you’re not driving home. he says it’s to keep you safe but really, he just wants more time with you.

“it’s like twenty minutes out, i’ll drive, it’s nothing.”

“i’m perfectly fine to drive! i just yawned, i’m not tired.”

his foot is down. “yeah, that’s not happening.”

“you’re going to take a bus home? patrick…”

“i’ll take a taxi if it makes you feel better?”

“uh huh.”

- he follows the sidewalk rule. he’s never heard of it before but he does it, just on his own.

- saves you the last slice or even bite of anything he’s eating that’s worth it. he orders a really good burger, the very last bit left is yours. ordering a pizza, the last slice is yours. even a slice of cheesecake, the last bite is yours. bonus points to him for making sure the last bite contains all elements of what he had. the burger has all toppings left on the last bite, the cheesecake has the crust and the caramel drizzle, etc.

- doesn’t get why you choose such shitty men to go out with and waste your best dresses for the wrong eyes. he plays it off as caring about you, but he’s jealousss

“i have another date tonight with tony,” you tell him. he looks up from the can of ravioli he’s opening.

“tony with the hair or tony with the fake hair?”

you tsk, “with the hair.”

“the guy with the weird moustache who runs the laundromat? really?”

“he’s nice!”

“just nice shouldn’t cut it. and doesn’t he have the weird butt-chin thing? come on.”

“he treats me well! compliments me, pays for things…”

“yeah okay, with the laundromat money, you’re sure it’s not going on credit?”

by the end of the conversation he’s telling you that you look nice, a little defeated, but he means it. he can’t talk you out of it truly without first admitting he likes you and secondly, admitting to you he likes you.

- he’s always down to spend time with you. he might say he’s busy but he’s not. and when he is, he moves things around just to see you, but he won’t tell you that.

- he buys the drinks you like just to keep them in the fridge. he buys more every time he goes out so the stock of it keeps growing and soon enough it’s taking up two shelves in his fridge.

“i’m going to make something to eat for dinner,” you say, opening the fridge. and the fridge is near-full of your favourite drink. he usually gets it for you, you’d assume he just had a few but no. he has so many. and the thing is, he doesn’t like the drinks. so it’s just really weird. there’s a million of your drinks and then in the empty spaces, ketchup, mustard, milk, ground beef, cheese, and two red peppers next to the can of opened redbull. what for? who knows. you walk back out to where patrick is sitting and he looks up from his phone.

“we can get groceries. don’t have much right now,” he reaches for his keys and you laugh just a little, which stops him. you hold up one of the drinks and he just stares at it, knowing you know about the shelves upon shelves of it. “they were on sale, fuck off.”

- any time you’ve slept at his place he either gives up his bed and sleeps on the couch, or if you fall asleep on the couch you always wake up the next morning with a comfy blanket over you and a proper pillow under your head. he won’t move you, he’s too afraid to wake you. or on nights when you know you’re staying over or even on a whim, he’s used to giving you his clothes to sleep in because he knows you like the fit of them. they’re comfortable.

- without you coming over, patrick wouldn’t do any of his chores. he’s only motivated by the idea that you might come over and think he’s a slob. you already know he’s a slob, but he does a good job at hiding it. it always smells a bit like febreeze when you come over and not that you mind it- it smells good. but it can’t mask the slight cigarette scent and the scent of his cologne which is without a doubt on every surface he’s ever layed on.

- he’s the guy you can go to for honest opinions because he’ll always shamelessly side with you. a fight with a friend who was clearly in the wrong? he doesn’t even try to see the other perspective, he’s on your side no matter what. your ex and his new girl? he thinks she’s ugly and a downgrade and he’s an asshole for posting the grocery store flowers he got for her. he’s jealous, but he’s good knowing your ex fumbled you.

“they’re yellow.”

“he got her yellow chrysanthemums?”

you chuckle and look at him. “you know what flowers those are?”

“saw them the other day at the store. on sale, $5. same ones, look at the wrapping.” he says, pointing at the laptop. “he’s broke and she doesn’t even know it.”

you laugh. he’s glad to hear it.

- when you go out to bars he pays for your drinks. says you deserve it- you do come over and cook all the time so why not?

- patrick is known to crack a few jokes but when you’re serious, so is he. you’re upset? he’s listening, he won’t make fun of you unless he knows it’ll make you feel better. he’ll sit next to you, let you talk, cry, get really angry, get really sad. he’s there. and he’ll comfort you in whichever way you need. it’s his softer side, the one you bring out. lets you lean against him, he’ll even hug you if you ask.

- he’s a GOOD HUGGER. he gives amazing hugs, they are so enveloping, so comfortable. his arms wrap all the way around and not only do his arms squeeze you the perfect amount of tight, but his hands as well. he’s always warm but not hot, and he smells like good cologne and slightly of cigarettes. he’ll take any chance to hug you and you’ll gladly have it.

- struggling not to think about fucking you when you’re trying on dresses for a date. he’s thinking ‘what will these guys think when they see you?’ and his mind is on one thing that they’ll be thinking. but his mind is on it too, when you come out in a little black tube dress and you ask him if it’s too short. it’s too short for sure.

“what about the cleavage though? too much? not enough?”

“hm?” he’s not paying attention to your words.

“the cleavage. too much?”

“yeah. maybe try a turtleneck.”

yeah yeah it’s wrong to think about sex with your best friend, but the dresses, each shorter and showing more skin than the next we’re making him so incredibly horny. he doesn’t do well with that. goes home and fucks his own hand at the thought. helps to distract himself from the fact you’re out on a date with someone else who might actually get to take off that dress :(

- he’ll show up at your place with whatever it is you say you’ve been wanting and he will make a night out of it. wings? he’s at your door with them in an hour. drinks? yeah he stopped for a six pack of whatever he grabbed. he’s always down to get food. you want to go out? he’ll pick you up to go get whatever it is you’ve been wanting. a good excuse to actually work on bulking. not that it’s date-like.

- he’s got a photo of you in his wallet. it’s a platonic thing, he swears to the girl he takes on a date. she’s pretty but she’s not you. the photo of you sitting pretty with a potted plant doesn’t give off ‘available’ and yeah he kisses her but she is not you. he leaves early and calls you on his way back. he’s pretty sure he’s fucked forever because he’s realizing he only wants you.

- he’s protective at parties. he’s already watching you dance and have fun but when you come there with him and start flirting with guys it provokes him just a little more than it would if he were sober. he’ll walk over and slip his arm around your shoulder or even your waist if he’s had enough to drink and he’ll ask the guy how he’s doing and he’s 100% running interference pretending he’s just out of it from the alcohol and it isn’t the fact he’s jealous.

“hey man,” patrick usually greets the guy, hand resting on the small of your back. he’s always got a big smirk on his face, tongue against his cheek. “what’s up?” the move usually scares the guy off and you playfully hit or elbow him, but it’s worth it.

- his doors are always open to you. you have a key if you need it. so when you show up, soaked from the rain, upset over tony the laundromat guy being the dick patrick was so right about him being (despite not knowing the guy at all), he wraps you in his arms and he listens to the whole story. you’re complaining about genuine men being so hard to find and he’s sitting right there. he just brings his hand to rest against his jaw and looks off to the side at something as you continue speaking and he’s listening, he just hates what he’s hearing.

- he’ll take off whatever jacket he’s wearing if you’re cold. he won’t be happy about it- or look happy about it, but he might be a little happy about it… he’ll complain about what he’s going to do in the cold but the sweater or jacket is on you within five minutes of your ask.

- he’ll begrudgingly do whatever you ask of him. like he does not want to get up at 4:50 in the morning and drive to the hilltop to watch the sunrise. he wants to stay asleep, snoring in his bed, but you wake him up and he hates it, but it’s you and it’s the sunset so he goes with you. but in his still-tired state all he can seem to focus on is the light of the sunrise hitting your skin. he’ll either do it super slowly or begrudgingly, sometimes he might even say no. but it never stays a no.

- again. can’t stand that you keep giving your time to men who don’t know how to treat you. he goes to the bar, he drinks about it a little, he talks to the bartender about you. the bartender knows you by name, knows your favourite album, knows you go out with guys who aren’t him, and he knows you’re beautiful, having your features described by a drunk patrick who uses his hands a lot to gesture. it’s weird when you go to the bar with patrick another night and the bartender already knows your name and the drink you want.

- drunk patrick uses all the self control he has not to tell you he wants you. he almost lets it slip with unfinished sentences. does everything he can to fend himself off, but he’s very close to you when he’s drunk, his already-bad spatial awareness so much worse while impaired. his face always close to yours, nose sometimes hitting yours, he comes so close. hands reach for your waist when he’s near you. you don’t mind it- it doesn’t make you uncomfortable. it’s a different feeling. you manage to wrangle him into his bed and make him drink water. he’s talking to you like there are important things you need to know before he absolutely passes out.

“if that tony guy comes around again i hope he knows i owe him a broken nose,” he’ll say and he’s grinning and you’re just rolling your eyes at him, he’s so stupid. “you have to stop dating these guys, fucking douchebags. i know i’m not much better, but at least i don’t wear axe body spray and pick you up in a beat up honda.”

“patrick, you drive a honda,”

“mine isn’t beat up.” he says. so honest. you laugh at him and hand him back the cup of water. but he says it, “you deserve more than that kind of guy. want you to have someone who really gives a fuck, you know?”

“if i could find one,” you say. half-oblivious, half-looking for him to say something that’ll have meaning. it’s the first time his drunk mind is telling him the feeling in his chest is heartache. oh my god, he feels like such a girl- he just grins, dimples on his cheek crawling all the way up. he covers his face.

- when you’re hanging out with mutual friends, smoking, talking, he’s always taking the seat next to you. your friends all know he’s into you- most of them suspect you’re already dating on the down low, the way you guys are so close. you’re sitting on the couch and his arm is up on the back of the couch behind you, your hand sometimes resting on his leg, you have your own conversations on the side and you’re laughing and leaning toward each other. it’s obvious. he’s obvious. YOU are obvious. and oblivious! painfully.

- patrick will shave his beard for your birthday. he’ll trim it regularly but on your birthday he shaves it all off, it’s an annual thing. bare-faced and you find it so so fun to see him without.

- the dress you wear on your birthday is a little too perfect. the mix of you and your hair done and your makeup and the intention of drinking with your girl friends and asking him how you look before you leave. you usually ask him before you go out. he’s going out with you and your friends, but he comes over a little early, just how things are. he’s always honest.

“you look… wow.” he’s looking at you. you’re standing in front of him, little dress, perfectly fit to your body. and you’re smiling, doing a little spin. and you’re beautiful and god you’re so fucking hot. patrick fears for the possibility of his sober thoughts becoming drunk words later. you’re already unbearably fucking beautiful what is he going to do with himself?

- he’s a touchy drunk. not with everyone, not the same way he is with you. when he drinks his hands are magnetic to you, resting on your hands, hand on the small of your back, your waist, your arm. like i said before, you’re used to it, you don’t mind it, but it’s different when he’s staying somewhat sober because he’s afraid of how he’d act if he had more than three shots. he wouldn’t do anything you’re not comfortable with- it’s not that, it’s the fact he’s scared if he drinks tonight that you in your element, dancing, laughing, having fun in that little dress would provoke him to spill all of his secrets. he’s got a stoic form of self-understanding he’s taking to prevent anything dumb from falling out of his mouth under the influence.

- he does, however, fend off the creepy guys or just the assholes who try and buy you more drinks or even talk to you. he won’t let them get so far as to ask for your name. you whine but he just tells you, “you wouldn’t want to talk to them sober.” and you’re like hmm true. the defender position includes closing your tab, getting you home, and getting you inside safely. and usually you take care of him when he’s drunk or high, but he takes the opportunity very seriously. before he’s helped you get to bed but this particular time you’re asking him to undo the zipper on your dress and you’re lifting your hair.

he’s not going to tell you no, so he undoes the zipper and in seconds you’re stripping in front of him unabashedly and he turns around, arms folded, grinning to himself because of course this was happening. he is not an asshole, so he won’t turn around until you’re dressed, but when he turns around you’re only in one of his shirts that he’s been wondering where it went- and your underwear and you’re asking him to come sit with you because it’s still technically your birthday (it’s not).

he will, but he doesn’t want to stick around too long. despite the lack of alcohol, there’s still a pull to tell you how he feels, but that’s girly. and you’re drunk. he puts you to bed after making you drink water.

- he’s the kind of guy to keep a condom in his wallet- he’s never going to use it, it’s probably expired and worn in front his wallet being in his pocket but he has it in there. in fact it’s right behind the photo of you.

- he also has a stolen street sign in his living room from when he was on tour after high school. it’s custom for all guests visiting his place to slap it before they enter the room. if you don’t, there’s no consequences, but it’s just wrong not to. he will, however, catch YOU on it if you forget. holds you to it in whichever way he can.

- he’s totally debating on kissing you almost every time he’s with you. it’s getting progressively worse every time he’s with you he swears he’s going to do it but he doesn’t want to. (he wants to sooo fucking badly, it’s insane). any time you pass him by, every time you say his name, when you sit next to him, when you’re talking to him about anything, engaging with him, looking him in his eyes. it’s a struggle not to.

and you’re friends, longtime friends so the casual touches get to be too much, even. you cup his face with your hands saying he needs to shave and he’s only staring at your lips.

or you sit sideways next to him on the couch facing him and your hand is on his shoulder and you’re so close to him when you talk he really could just reach over and kiss you.

you sit on his counter while he’s making spaghetti and you’re eating the shredded cheese out of the bag and it’s weird but the height your at, it would be perfect.

- you are the cause of his biggest grins and most laughter. you don’t even have to try. he enjoys your company more than anyone else’s. platonically, romantically, in every way. you are his best friend. you get him on a level even art didn’t.

- he’ll pick you up whenever you need him to. doctors appointment, from a friend’s- so when your self-proclaimed final attempt at a date ends up terribly, he’s the first person you call. you’re all pretty for another piece of shit and patrick has to pretend he’s not happy the guy was so weird. you get in the car and his eyes fall on your collarbone and your thighs and you yourself catch it. his eyes. you pull a knowing little look. “shut up,” he says, driving away without even letting you get your seatbelt on.

- he’s not a door holder very often. maybe for old ladies and kids, and the occasional friend, but he’s holding every door open for you. he even opens the car door for you most times. get back to his place, you don’t want to go home yet, he holds the door for you on your way in. you hit the street sign on the wall before flopping down on his couch. it smells like citrusy febreeze and a bit like his cologne. out of his personal needs of restraint, he tosses you one of his comfy shirts and shorts so you can be out of that little dress. and after you take them to his bathroom to get changed, he’s still feeling the same way about the way you look. it was not the dress’ fault.

- the thing with patrick and other women is he’s never been afraid to go up to a girl, hit on her, he’s hardly been afraid to kiss a girl. he’s pretty confident all around but you are so different. the need to kiss you is all-consuming. he wonders if he should talk to you about things first when he’s never considered more than the flavour of a girl’s lip balm in the past. you make him nervous, sitting there in his clothes. i say there, but you’re next to him, hair behind your ears, talking about how you think you’re done with dating and you’re going to wait until the perfect guy falls into your lap. you’re playing some angle but he’s thinking that it’s a good thing. the conversation turns to joking, he’s teasing you, you tease back it’s just normal.

- of course patrick has a snack pantry. if he doesn’t have groceries, he has snacks. at a random point in conversation you tell him you could really go for an oreo right now and he’s so on that. so you both take a trip to the kitchen and you’re looking in the cabinet and you find the oreos and share them while continuing to talk at the counter. you’re going on about how strange your date was and how you felt if you stayed you’d be on a true crime document and the conversation begins to turn to thanking him for coming to get you. but like mentioned before, he’d always come get you. didn’t matter how far you were but he wouldn’t say that.

“it’s different, it’s not like you picking me up from the dentist, it’s you picking me up when i know you were busy.” you say. he smiles because he really wasn’t that busy- he was just out with friends of course he’d drop them for you. “i just want you to know i’m grateful is all.”

“don’t need to be-“ he says with his mouth full of oreo. “it was nothing, i was nearby anyway.” he wasn’t. he sped. in his honda.

“you’re so weird,” you giggle. “why can’t you just be normal about people thanking you for things you do? you go out of your way far too often.”

patrick chuckles to himself, shutting the package of oreos. he doesn’t do it for anyone else. “how do i be normal about it?”

“you could say ‘you’re welcome’, maybe?” you say. he nods. “i say i’m grateful for you and the things you do for the people you care about, namely me and you say ‘you’re welcome’.”

“we’re rehearsing?” he straightened himself as if getting ready and you pressed your hand to your forehead, smiling. “go for it. say how grateful you are for me and the things i do for you. only you.”

“so stupid, just say you’re welcome.” you giggle, throwing your hands up in the air in defeat. he grins, a sly grin, dimple on full display, gorgeous. he turns away from you to put away the oreos (if you weren’t there he wouldn’t have put them away). he shuts the cabinet door. “patrick?”

“yeah?”

and he’s met with your hand on the back of his neck, pulling him into a kiss.

- the way patrick kisses is very passionately. that’s who he is. he kissed a lot of girls in high school, met a few on tour that were worth making out with. his kisses are full of passion. but this kiss is from you, so he receives it like a gift. surprisingly politely. he’s never ever been caught so off-guard by a kiss. he didn’t see it coming at all. it’s a small kiss, a few seconds of lips fitting together perfectly, but you pull away. his face stays close to yours. he’s never had a kiss like this before. in the crowd of girls he’s ever kissed. it’s never felt like this. and it was so small.

“i’m sorry,” you say, hushed, but you’re smiling, so how sorry are you? he grins and in an instant, you’re kissing again, deeper, more, hands in his hair and his on your waist, holding tight. it’s all he’s thought about for a month on end. there’s something better than drugs and it’s this, patrick thinks. your back against the pantry door, him against you.

- he’s never been so in need of a kiss before. he’s never been kissed like this before. it’s somehow everything he’s ever wanted and everything he’s never gotten from every girl he’s ever kissed. and the thing about patrick is, like mentioned, he’s a moderately horny guy but this to him is all he wants. he only wants to kiss you. a few minutes pass and he’s doing something he’s never done and that’s talking it out with you. but as soon as he admits he likes you, he’s telling you to shut up because you’re giggling and it’s adorable and you can’t be calling him out on his crush like that…

- you admit to being a little oblivious and maybe admitting to repressing feelings because you weren’t entirely sure- and he’s instantly on making fun of you for it. he makes fun of himself for not seeing it sooner or for making a move sooner but there’s no room for apologies between another kiss. a kiss full of laughter where you just can’t stop laughing but you also won’t stop kissing him and it’s kind of perfect.

[sharonccrter]

I saw this really interesting video, which talked about my two biggest gripes with challengers' discourse. Which are that everyone keeps saying Art is the heart of this movie, and secondly, the insistence that Patrick doesn't love Tashi, only Art. The creator pushes back against these two narratives, and I wholeheartedly agree. Patrick is arguably the heart of this movie.

Two of the most important scenes in the movie are the churro scene and the scene between p/t out in the storm, and they both centre around Patrick.

The entire movie is about passion and purpose in life, and Patrick is the passion.

I mean, a lot of people assume Patrick didn't really have feelings for Tashi, but the only person who says that is Art. Who is vying for Tashi and is his biggest competitor. The reason I empathise with Patrick is that he is genuine and loving to Art; he does love him. However, we are shown no evidence to suggest that Patrick is this shitty boyfriend, apart from what Art says when he's trying to get into Tashi's head because his jealous. We find out that they're talking every week while he's on tour (normal relationship shit). It's Art who insinuates that Patrick is cheating while on tour. The only person in this movie who says Patrick doesn't love Tashi is Art, and it's obviously very intentional.

I think the reason both Tashi and Art push Patrick out of their lives is because he forces them to comfort parts of themselves they are not yet comfortable with. I mean, it's obvious why Tashi would react that way to Patrick; she's just lost the most important thing in her life. However, I think it's tragic from Patrick's point of view as well. I mean, what did Patrick really do? He got into a fight with his girlfriend because she hurt his feelings.

And no, he's hurt was not about Art. The fight made him feel unimportant, which made him feel like she didn't actually care about him. And that's where Art comes in, because who was going around telling Patrick Tashi didn't give a shit? You bet ya. Art. Art absolutely got into his head. And even if he clocked it, in that moment, he still allowed it to get to him because he was emotional and upset. And because he was too hurt to support her, he was thrown out of Tashi and Art's lives.

And here's the thing, Patrick never saw Tashi as an idea. He saw her as a real person, unlike Art kinda did. Patrick wasn't going to let Tashi treat him like shit just because she was special. And, tbh, if Tashi hadn't gotten injured, I think it's something she would have eventually been grateful for. But instead, she got hurt; she pushed Patrick away, and Art slid into his place, telling her that she could be his entire world and the star. That's not healthy, and sorry to stay a little manipulative.

And let's talk about Art. Patrick and him were literally fire and ice. They always had this underlying desire. They were perfect opposites. Let's face it: Art could never replicate what he had on the court (and off) with anyone else. But instead of confronting his feelings, he took the first chance he had to get Patrick out of his life.

The girl I was watching said it perfectly, "Art and Tashi allowed themselves to find consolation prizes in each other and allowed them to run from parts of themselves they didn't want to comfort and in turn enable each other's worst habits."

Art tries to become a tennis superstar so Tashi can live through him, and Tashi gives him a family so he can finally be confident in who he is. But is there any passion? I don't know; I think at some point, it drained; nothing about what I saw on screen apart from their initial get-together screams passion.

Cue Patrick walking back into their life and showing them how they can feel. Art was always going to let Tashi live through him, but that was never going to be satisfying for her. Tashi needs to find a way to create an identity for herself, separate from him. And I believe it'll be the only way she'll live a satisfying life. That's why they need Patrick: to make them realise that and to help them rediscover their passion.

I think people think that Art is the heart because Patrick admits to being a piece of shit. But the truth is, they're all dicks; Patrick was just the only one who was willing to admit it.

[depravitycentral]

Yandere! Shouta Aizawa NSFW Profile

Yandere! Shouta Aizawa x fem! reader

Tw: mentions of dub-con, masturbation, stalking, kidnapping, voyeurism, toys, clothed sex, hair-pulling, this one is actually kind of soft and feels less yandere-y to me so sorry that this one is a little less creepy than normal, Shouta is a pleaser and lives for your praise, he gets off with a blanket you gifted him, very mild somnophilia, fem reader, MDNI

I do not condone any of the actions described in this post - this is fiction and should be treated as such. If you or a loved one is in a similar situation to anything contained in this post or my blog in general, please seek help. You're in charge of your internet consumption; please make responsible choices. With that, enjoy!

WC: 12K

HABITS

In general, Shouta isn’t that perpetually horny. He’s a busy man with constant stress weighing on his shoulders; working as a pro while being a full-time teacher leaves him drained during the few times he gets to relax, and it’s a lot of work to get himself hard, to get off, and to clean up afterwards.

It’s just not worth it to him – especially because it’s a bit sad to be left with just his fist and some low-grade, unrealistic porn as a man in his thirties, isn’t it?

He doesn’t have a partner, and hasn’t had one for quite some time – there was a girl a decade or so ago, but she didn’t last long, and the sex was subpar at best. And so, Shouta finds himself neglecting any sort of sexual activity most nights that he’s off work, not bothering to get himself all worked up and fuck away some of that pent up stress.

Except, then you show up.

His feelings for you form, and although it takes a long time for them to solidify, it takes an even longer time for them to turn lewd, any sort of sexual thought involving you not really taking root into he’s much further into his obsession.

This is for a few reasons – firstly, he just doesn’t have that high of a libido, and while seeing you naked when he’s watching from outside your window certainly gets him hot and bothered, he isn’t constantly fantasizing about bending you over and fucking you until you’re screaming his name.

(Not never, just not constantly – and at inopportune moments, sometimes. Moments where he really should be focused on the mountains of paperwork on his desk, not focused on how the desk is the perfect height for you to be standing on your tiptoes, ass poised out and your chest pressed against the hard wooden lacquer, your soft skin glistening in the dim light and your pretty thighs twitching and quivering as his fingers press deeper and deeper and deeper -)

Secondly, Shouta’s already feeling such crippling guilt regarding his infatuation with you that adding on overt sexual fantasies for you would push him too far. He already hates that he thinks of you constantly, that he’s always idly worrying about your safety, wanting to know your location and who you’re with and what you’re doing.

He already dislikes that he can’t stop himself from swinging by your apartment at the end of his patrols, making sure that you’re in your bed asleep, safe and sound and looking so fucking pretty in the moonlight. He doesn’t like how wrapped around your finger you have him, so how could he justify wringing himself dry to you, depraved fantasies running through his mind as he imagines the way you’d cream on his fingers, how you’d clench down on him so, so tightly when he fucks you just right?

Shouta can’t – it would breach too many protocols of trust, the friendship formed between the two of you precarious enough as it is with Shouta’s obsessive, disturbing feelings. He doesn’t think of you sexually, banishing every thought from his mind the moment it appears.

Or, at least, that’s what he wishes could be true – unfortunately, his hormones get the better of him sometimes, leaving him rolling around in his bed, cock painfully hard and his mind insistently flashing images of you changing behind his eyelids.

He’s embarrassed, more than anything, that he doesn’t have enough self control to successfully halt any lewd thoughts of you – it’s pathetic, really, because is he so desperate to touch you that he literally can’t stop himself?

Is he really so painfully, pitifully aroused by you that just the mere idea of you licking your lips or smiling at him can get him breathing hard, thankful for the bagginess of his pants?

He hates that the answer is yes, that his body is really that pent up and eager to get you under him, naked and soft and pretty, all for him and only him. It’s demoralizing, but Shouta only has so much restraint – he tries to hold out for as long as he can, really. He swears.

It’s torture at first, popping melatonin and chugging Nyquil, hoping he’ll be able to pass out and sleep off the horniness, but it never quite works. Instead, his dreams are full of you – on your knees, sucking him off so well that your cheeks are literally hollowing, drool spilling down your chin, a string of saliva and precum connecting your puffy lips to his swollen tip when you pull off for air.

He’ll dream of you on your hands and knees, peeking back at him with glassy eyes and biting your lip, clearly embarrassed as you ask him to touch me, please Shouta, I need you…

He always wakes up with soiled sheets, his entire pelvis sticky with now cold cum, and it becomes very, very difficult to look you in the eye that day, only able to conjure up the image of you all tied up in his scarf, your breasts perfectly framed and your thighs spread, slick covering them as you whine his name, desperate for him.

And though he tries to stave off, not letting himself actively fantasize about you sexually while he’s conscious, a particularly rough day of teaching and patrol have him giving up, throwing caution to the wind as he decides that he needs this, that a release is the only way he’ll be able to stay sane.

In the past, the few times he’s masturbated he’s always just fucked his fist, not needing anything too fancy. But for you, something about that feels disrespectful – it’s stupid and he knows it, but the idea of just thrusting into his hand over and over until he eventually spills all over his knuckles seems tacky, low-class, almost offensive to your image, like he’s tarnishing you and the way he idolizes you.

So, he relies on the next best thing he can scrounge up – you’d given him a blanket a few months ago, a birthday present that he’d tried desperately to cover his blush at receiving.

(Hizashi had pitched in, helping you decide which color and texture, having an expert’s opinion so that it would be perfect for the dark-haired man – a level of detail and attention to his desires that still, to this day, makes his heart flutter to think about. You cared, wanting him to be happy, and just that thought leaves his chest swelling with pride, his palms getting a bit clammy and his cheeks feeling too hot.)

He’s kept the blanket on his bed, using it every single night for the limited sleep he manages to get, making sure the material is always, always touching his body. It’s the only way he really feels close to you – the blanket was for him, sure, but you’d touched it, picked it out, held it in your arms while Shouta was dumbly gaping at you and struggling to utter out a strained thank you.

(If he tries hard enough, he thinks he can even smell you on the fabric – it’s not as good as if you were actually here with him, laying in his arms, touching him, but if he strains enough and pretends hard enough, there’s the faintest whiff of you.)

He’s gulping, throwing his uniform off and leaving it crumped up in the corner, before gently, daintily grabbing the edges of the neatly folded blanket (a stark contrast to the harsh pulling and tugging at his costume he’d thrown off moments earlier) and laying it out on the bed.

He lets out a shaky breath, gulping, before tying his hair back into a messy, low ponytail, excitement flitting through him because he’s really about to do it. He’s really about to touch himself to the thought of you, allowing himself to fully indulge in the fantasy that is you, the fantasy that is imagining the way you’d feel against his body, your lips against his own, your hands in his hair and your thighs around his waist.

He’s moving slow as he settles onto his knees on the bed, staring down at the blanket with furrowed brows. This isn’t quite right – the image of you laying before him, body nude and your legs clenched together in anticipation feels very, very right, but there’s something missing.

A thumb comes down to idly rub at the blanket, tracing small circles against the material as he wracks his brain. What’s missing? How can he make this feel like you, like it’s your body he’s touching, like it’s your perfect little cunt he’s fucking?

He’s not sure, but suddenly it hits him – your body, just as he’d been dreaming about.

The blanket doesn’t look enough like you – it’s two dimensional, flat and having no surface area to grip onto, nothing for him to fondle and touch and squeeze.

It needs to have more of your shape – quickly, methodically, he’s reaching down, grabbing handfuls of the blanket and bunching it up, forming a shape that vaguely resembles your torso. He’s careful to get the exact shape of your waist and hips, making sure to leave mounds of crumpled blanket to represent your breasts, even creating a little space between your thighs that represents something soft, something warm and wet and tight – your precious little pussy, something Shouta would literally kill to feel.

He gulps as he looks down at his work, the atmosphere suddenly seeming much thicker, heavier, hotter, because now, the solid colored blanket seems like you, at least having your body shape and your vague proportions. Aizawa lets his hand run down what would be your side, pausing right over your pretend hip.

Fuck, he mutters under his breath, before shifting forward slightly, letting his weight rest on his knees and one hand as he carefully guides his cock to the space between your crafted thighs.

He’d been careful to leave a fold in the fabric, a pouch of sorts – a place for him to push into, slowly spreading the two layers, trying to mimic the way your pretty lips would part for him, your walls sucking him and clenching him nice and tight, wanting to keep him inside and never let him pull out.

Shouta curses as he rubs his tip against the fabric, noting with a small, far-away sense of disdain that there’s precum smearing all along the fabric, certainly leaving a stain that he’ll have to scrub out later. His thumb comes up to gently swipe along where he imagines your cheek to be, even feeling phantom sensations of warmth, of softness, just as you’d be.

He leans down slowly, throat bobbing, before letting his eyes flutter closed, his lips pressing against the blanket – right where he imagines your own to be. The kiss is soft, gentle, heartfelt, his tongue flicking out to lick against the blanket material, groaning and wishing it was your own tongue meeting his, your own spit coating his lips.

As he gets closer, body inching further down until his chest pressed up against what’s supposed to be your breasts, he shuffles his hips forward, pushing past the fabric fold and into you. He groans, pulling back from the kiss to rest his forehead against where he imagines yours to be, letting his eyes shut tight, nearly squeezing them closed as he slowly rocks his hips.

The friction of the blanket feels a bit strange, not how you’d feel, but it’s better than nothing – and it’s so, so very easy to imagine you instead; your warm, slick walls, the way you’d squeeze at him when he brushes up against your spot, the way your legs would wrap around his hips, hooking your ankles and pulling him in closer, begging him to go deeper. He sighs out, biting his lip and furrowing his brow, the pleasure slowly beginning to mount.

He imagines the way you’d moan his name – he bets you’d be airy, a soft sound that gets his hips stuttering ever so slightly because he knows the way his name would sound spilling from your lips would be heaven, the sultry Shouta upturned at the end as he fucks into you just the slightest bit faster.

His hips pick up their pace at the thought of you crying his name, back muscles flexing as he slowly gets faster and faster, the slow, sweet, intimate pace he’d set blown to dust in the wake of his thighs propelling him forward, hips flying and smacking into the blanket so quickly and harshly that the mattress is shaking, bedframe slightly pounding against the wall.

Shouta groans, low and deep, imagining the way you’d beg him to go faster Shouta please, please please please you feel s’good, wanna come for you! Memories of seeing you touch yourself flash behind his closed eyes, seeing the way your face screwed up in pleasure, how you gripped at your pillows and bucked your hips and trembled and arched your back and gasped and came –

Shouta’s chanting your name, his hips sinking into the fold of the blanket over and over, and quickly he’s bringing a thumb down to rub frantic, uneven circles where he imagines your clit to be, desperate to get you coming, wanting to time your orgasm with his.

Fuck, come for me baby, give it to me, god you’re s’damn tight fuuuck - !

His eyes fly open as spurts of warm, milky cum spray from his tip, getting all over the blanket and making his hips stutter and jerk, the sensation of coming in something leaving his arms feeling weak.

He’s panting, still saying your name under his breath, dark hair falling around his face as his thighs flex and clench, the last bits of cum dribbling from his tip and leaving him feeling spent. He can’t help but imagine the way you’d take him, if you’d thank him for giving him everything he has to offer, if you’d hold onto him until you both caught your breath, if your walls would still flutter and clench sporadically even after you’d come down from your high.

He closes his eyes again, heart practically in his throat as he leans down once more to kiss the blanket, tongue sneaking out and wet noises filling the room as spit and drool get slobbered all over the fabric.

He’s still out of breath, panting when he pulls back, but it’s not until he leans back onto his knees and takes a good look at the blanket that his high begins to fade, the reminder that you’re not really there making a sharp feeling dig into his gut.

He stares for a moment, before sighing, slowly pulling out of the blanket and grimacing when he feels cooling cum sliding across his cock, the white mess all over the material and smeared across his skin.

He brings a hand to his forehead, covering his eyes and sighing. What was he doing?

He’d just fucked a blanket – a gift, from you no less – while pretending it was you, his desperation to get you naked and in his grasp strong enough to make him lose him mind.

Pathetic, he was truly pathetic.

He’s ashamed as he throws the blanket into the laundry, hoping the cum stains will come out with all the bleach he’d thrown in alongside it, and as he chugs his coffee, deciding to get to school early and try to collect himself, Shouta can only sigh.

You make him such a fucking fool – a freak, perverted and creepy and gross, and as soon as he catches sight of you in the staff loungeroom, looking all pretty in your simple blouse and slacks, he knows he’s a lost cause, every bit of self-respect falling by the wayside.

 Because as soon as he looks at you, all he can think of is how you’d look underneath him, stuffed full of his cum and a dazed, fucked-out expression scrawled across your face. All he can think of is how you’d be absolutely perfect to sink his cock into – and as he darts off to the nearest restroom, desperately trying to get rid of the insistent, raging erection in his pants, he can only sigh, letting his head hang.

He really is a fucking creep.

FAVORITE BODY PARTS

Your thighs

Shouta isn’t one to sexualize women’s bodies. He’s a man with urges, sure, but he’s never had trouble separating sexual attraction from respect for his female friends, even for strangers in the streets. A body is a body, and they aren’t made to be stared at and ogled.

Except where you’re concerned, of course, because while Shouta tries his hardest to not sexualize every thought of you, it’s difficult to hold himself back when he’s so utterly attracted to every single part of you.

It’s hard to not fixate and stare and want when he looks at you, and so while he gives a valiant effort to not obsess over your figure in a less than innocent way, eventually he can’t help himself.

And Shouta discovers that while he loves every inch of you, there’s something about your thighs that drive him absolutely fucking crazy.

Maybe it’s their shape – pretty expanses of your skin that look perfect to grope and squeeze, the soft curves making him salivate in a way that feels almost predatory.

Maybe it’s the way they feel – your skin is so soft, especially if he moves his hands further up, between them, nearing somewhere warm and wet and throbbing.

Maybe it’s the way they feel when they’re around his waist, caging him in and keeping him right where he wants to be, and when they’re around his head?

(Don’t mention the instances where he’s orgasmed just from simply eating you out – it’s embarrassing, and while he won’t deny it, he will change the conversation and pray you don’t see the soft, barely-there pink blooming on his cheeks.)

Maybe it’s even the way you respond when he touches them – how you jump a little bit, his calloused hands feeling a bit cold as they skim along the sides, thumbs pressing into your inner thighs, a comforting finger brushing along the juncture of your legs and pelvic bone.

He’s not entirely sure, but one thing he does know is that just seeing your bare thighs is enough to get him gulping, his dark gaze struggling to move away as he watches the area jiggle and flex while you walk, every step you take only making him want you more and more.

Even before he’s stolen you away, he’s fantasizing about your thighs – he’s bought more pairs of stockings and thigh-highs than he’d care to admit, keeping them neatly organized in a specific drawer in his closet, often fingering the material and biting his lip.

(The image of you wearing them makes him drool, the idea of the top hem squeezing your thigh and making a little bulge appear right above the socks getting his hand wandering down his torso, his fingers making quick word of his belt buckle because fuuuck, would you keep them on while he throws your legs over his shoulders and absolutely destroys you?)

He’s always taking extra time and care to properly worship them when he’s got his head between your legs, letting his lips and tongue trail all along the soft skin, leaving teasing bite marks and hickeys and feeling the way you tremble under his touch because he’s so close yet so far from where you need him.

He’s always got a hand on your thighs when he’s fucking you, his fingers clutching and digging into the skin while he shuts his eyes tight and wills himself to last longer, to prolong the moment, to give you more more more, just like you deserve.

He just really, really likes your thighs, so don’t be surprised when he’s got his hand casually placed on one when you’re watching a movie together, his gaze purposefully not looking at you because you can’t see how flustered he is from touching your clothed thigh in a non-sexual context.

You can’t.

His hands

In general, Shouta lives to please you in bed. He’s by no means submissive (though he could be persuaded if you really, really wanted to be in charge for a night), but he’s a caring partner in every possible sense of the word – sex is about you, and any pleasure he gets from it is just a fun bonus.

And because of this, he takes every opportunity to learn new ways to please you, trying everything from teasing your clit with the tip of his tongue, buying a collection of vibrators, even letting you grind against the expanse of his thigh.

But his favorite method by far is using his fingers on you. They’re thick, with scars and callouses dotting the rough skin, but they’re so gentle with you, always touching you like you’re something fragile and delicate and breakable. He's careful with you when he’s rubbing circles over your clit, the pressure consistent enough to feel good but not too hard, sometimes even teasing you. He’s gentle when he’s running his fingertips over your folds, occasionally dipping in just a hair to feel the warm wetness he wants so very badly to sink into.

(He often sucks in a short, nearly inaudible gasp when he does this, his Adam’s apple bobbing because god you’re wet, and he’ll pull back to lick off his fingers, letting his eyes flutter closed as he tastes you.)

He particularly enjoys fingering you – he’s dexterous, and he always goes slow and purposefully, learning quickly exactly where you like to be touched. He’ll angle the pads of his fingers against that spot inside of you that makes your toes curl, his lip caught between his teeth as he watches your face twist up, hearing your pretty sighs and moans, feeling the way you clench around him, your hips twitching a bit as if to get him deeper, to get more of him. He keeps his pace sensual, the come-hither motion slow and controlled, all the while keeping his thumb pressed firmly against your clit, drawing shapes that stay just consistent enough to get you closer and closer.

All the while, the other hand is gently working at your clit, his fingers expertly getting the exact pressure and pattern you like, making your thighs twitch and your little gasps and mewls louder and more insistent.

And when he’s not actively working between your legs, Shouta’s always got his fingers pleasuring you in other ways – gently kneading at your breasts, pinching and rolling your nipples between a thumb and index finger, groping and squeezing at you like a man starved as his tongue flicks and sucks at your clit.

They’re grasping a handful of your thigh and squeezing reassuringly as he’s fucking you, his pace slow and deep, making sure you feel every possible inch of him as he folds you in half.

He’s even slipping a thumb against your tongue when you take a break to breath, your chest heaving and your fingers wrapped around his girth, a groan slipping from his lips because god, the sight of his precum dribbling down your chin is enough to get his cock twitching on its own. He’ll press down on your tongue, his lip caught between his teeth as you stare up at him, the sight indescribably erotic, a few praises falling from his mouth about how good you look, how pretty you are, how well you take care of him.

(All the while, he’s feeling you suck on his thumb, eagerly running your tongue along the skin and even swallowing around it to give the extra suction. Shouta curses under his breath, and suddenly stands, grabbing you by the hips and forcing you to bend over the chair he’d previously been sitting on, roughly spreading your legs and immediately diving in to lick and suck against your clit, a finger slipping inside of you because he just can’t not touch you after watching you drool all over him.)

He just likes to make you feel good, and while he enjoys pleasuring you with his mouth, nothing can beat the way you moan and shake when he’s working his fingers on you, pulling orgasm after orgasm out of you until you’re incoherent, your poor body trembling, the only thing you can think of him him him.

DRIVE

Though you inspire more sexual desire and drive within him than he’s experienced for the last twenty years, Shouta is still not absolutely desperate to fuck you at all times.

Sure, the idea is nice – being intimate with you is something he craves, but nine times out of ten this intimacy takes the form of simply holding you. Sitting beside you with your head resting on his shoulder, a blanket covering the both of your bodies as you snore softly and cling to him in your sleep, showing that you feel safe with him, that you trust him to protect you.

(Shouta is normally able to keep his staring in check and not be too terribly overt with it, but in times like these he allows himself to openly gape at you, those dark eyes of his examining every detail of your face. Every small wrinkle, every hair and mole, even every lash and baby hair that frames your cheeks. You’re just too damn pretty, and like this he can commit every last detail to memory – as if he hadn’t already, as if he doesn’t sleep at night with your face dancing through his dreams, as if he sees flashes of you in everything he does. As if he isn’t thinking of you as unconsciously as he breaths.)

He generally imagines sleeping with you (and genuinely just sleeping – curling up with you in his arms and his face buried next to your neck, the scent of your body and shampoo filling his senses and making him breathe out something that walks the fine line between a sigh and a moan), the peacefulness and tranquility of just having you close to him in the safety of his protection and home.

It’s a type of intimacy that gets Shouta red in the face, the idea so domestic and taboo and foreign that he comes to crave this on a near constant basis, serving as motivation and a way to calm himself when his students are out of control or a villain is being particularly difficult.

But of course, Shouta is only a man, and men have needs – no matter how he tries to keep his obsession with you as innocent as it possibly can be, sexual thoughts trickle in through the cracks of his mental fortitude and leave him with a phantom wonder of how you’d taste – would you be sweet, like the jellies Hizashi had gotten him? Would you be rich and savory? He hopes you’d have a strong musk to you, a smell that he can breathe in and think of you, something that gets his salivating and his body growing hot and his fingers restless and his breath heavy and labored and god –

He’s hard before he knows it, immediately covering his face with his hands because it’s equal parts embarrassing and terrifying how easily you manage to affect him, just the simple thought of you getting his entire body on edge.

And so he eventually takes up masturbation with you in mind, feeling dirty and disgusting each time he recovers from his orgasmic high, making it more and more difficult to look you in the eye without thinking of all the depraved things he’d imagined doing with you mere hours before.

But Shouta thinks he can survive – sure, he wants to fuck you, needs to kiss you, has to see the face you make when you’re coming, but he can control himself. He won’t succumb to the urge to break into your (frustratingly poorly protected) apartment to run his fingers along your pretty skin and fuck his fist mere inches from your face, no matter how badly his body yells and begs him to. He won’t cross this boundary – it’s hypocritical to think of himself not as a pervert at this point, but it’s the only way he confidently resists you.

Except, then you go and force him into kidnapping you – and now you’re with him nearly all moments of the day, your scent in his bedroom (though he knows you never willingly enter there, and he doesn’t force you to), your body always just a heartbeat away, the idea of holding you and kissing much, much closer now.

And even with the constant temptation, Shouta manages to hold out – it’s torture, really, forcing himself to be a good man and giving you privacy, to not touch you, to not press himself against you and feel the contours of your body against his own, but it’s worth it to him. He can’t force anything – he doesn’t want to scare you, and he has this horrible, sneaking suspicion that if he propositioned you, you’d feel too afraid to say no.

And just the thought is enough motivation to keep him from touching you, to keep him celibate from you purely by his choice – even if it starts affecting him physically.

(He’d never, ever admit it to you, but his lust for you becomes so extreme that if he’s gone more than a week or so without having touched himself to the thought of you while you’re under his care, his cock starts physically hurting when he sees you, his hips involuntarily twitching when he hears your voice, his throat feeling dry and his cheeks blooming bright red because god, he’s never wanted to fuck something so bad.)

And so, Shouta forces himself to be an outstanding man – but no one can be alert every moment of every day, and it’s only a matter of time before you catch him in a moment of weakness. Because really, while Shouta was suffering, you were certainly undergoing a struggle of your own – you’ve been stuck with him for a few months at this point, trapped in his modest apartment with everything you could ever need with one glaring, important exception: human touch.

You don’t necessarily want to be physical with your kidnapper, but as the days pass and you slowly come to accept the fact that you won’t be escaping Eraserhead, things start changing. You’re still understandably frightened of him, worried that although he’s not harmed you in any way and hasn’t forced you into much aside from your captivity, he’ll show his true colors and make your life even more of a living hell.

But that doesn’t happen, Shouta staying that familiar presence you’ve become accustomed to; steady, quiet, consistent. Except the more days that pass, the more you start noticing other things about him – he’s strong, isn’t he? You see it when he walks from the bathroom to his bedroom with the towel tightly fastened at his waist, showing off the lean muscle of his arms and torso.

(He can feel your eyes sometimes, but tries not to dwell on what your staring at his naked chest could mean because getting his hopes up means getting them inevitably crushed.)

He’s awfully attentive, isn’t he? He listens when you speak, those dark eyes boring into you and your every wish – aside from escape – granted without so much as a complaint.

And sometimes, he’s a little attractive, isn’t he? In a rugged, man-ish way – a way that makes you gulp and press your thighs together a bit, because something about the stubble that coats his chin and the veins that litter his hands and forearms makes it difficult to breath correctly.

And then the daydreams start – little thoughts about how it would feel for those hands to touch you, for those lips to brush against your own, for his hair to tickle your neck as he hovers over you, his hips moving slowly and rhythmically against you, gruff grunts of your name filling the air between you.

They scare you at first, really, but soon you can’t stop yourself – you know it’s the lack of human contact that’s influencing you, but as time passes and you grow more desperate to know if he’s as attentive in bed as he is everywhere else, you’ll stop caring.

And Shouta can sense that something’s changing – he feels you watching him, notices the way your eyes follow him through a room, how you suck in the sharpest, smallest breath when he nears you, how you grow stiff when he has to flex a muscle in front of you to lift something heavy. Shouta knows that something is different – but it’s not until you grow brave one day that everything is confirmed.

It’d been a long, tiresome day for Shouta – his class had been especially rowdy today, with a simulation villain attack that the teachers participated in, and of course he’d ended up assigned to spar with Todoroki – meaning he’d been moving about, his muscles tired and sore from multiple hours of repetitive fighting. Then he’d had an extra patrol directly after, the villains particularly restless and causing more trouble than normal. Coupled with a nasty rainstorm that had him half freezing to death, Shouta wanted nothing more than to melt into bed, ideally with you beside him but knowing better than to wish for foolish things.

And when he’d stepped in the front door, you’d been waiting for him, sitting nervously on the couch. You’d stood up, but Shouta – despite feeling slightly more awake and alive at the sight of you, like normal – was still exhausted, already on the brink of unconsciousness as he gruffly greeted you. You looked nervous, twiddling your thumbs and biting your lip, but Shouta was too tired to properly ask about it, only mentally noting to check on you tomorrow.

Slumping towards his bedroom, he was abruptly stopped with you grabbed his hand, his entire body going rigid. Your voice was quiet when you asked him why he always seems to avoid touching you, asking if he didn’t want to, if he was repulsed by the idea of touching, if he was repulsed by you.

And Shouta, still half delirious with exhaustion, let the truth slip from his lips before he could help himself – explaining just how badly he craves to feel you, imagining you in every lewd position he can think of, noticing the way your pajama shirts sometimes grow tight when you sleep and roll over, exposing the outline of your breast and nipple and making him physically stop in his tracks and nearly drool like some horny teenager.

Every secret was spilling out of him, his voice still tired and coarse but making your jaw drop, the admission that he’s been fantasizing about making you a mess on his fingers and tongue and cock stunning you. You’d known Shouta harbored some sort of feelings for you, but this?

When he finishes detailing the fact that he regularly fucks his fist to the thought of you at least twice a week after you’ve fallen asleep, you release his hand, immediately missing the warmth of his skin.

Shouta rubs at his eyes, still not facing you, but muttering a small goodnight and retreating to his room, only realizing what’s happened the next morning. His hands shake and he bolts from his bed, his eyes wide and his heart racing, something horrible and feeling like shame and dread sitting in his chest because why the fuck had he told you that?

Facing you the next day has anxiety sitting in his every nerve, his actions jerky and on-edge, an he’d nearly bolted back to the safety of his room when he sawy you sitting at the kitchen table, but then you’d done something unexpected – you’d walked up to him, stood in silence for a moment, then grabbed his hand. Shouta had been confused, unable to ignore the way your hand fit into his own and the softness of your skin against his, but you’d not given him a chance to even ask questions – soon your lips were on his, and your hand had placed his on something warm and soft and squishy –

Shouta gasped against your lips, the feeling of your breast in his hand and your tongue swiping at his lips nearly making his knees buckle. He didn’t respond to your kiss for a few moments, forcing you to pull back and stare at him, something like worry and rejection reflected in your eyes, but it’s not until you whisper in a very small voice that he snaps out of his stupor.

I want you Shouta, and I know you want me.

You were in his bed moments later, his hands frantic and eager and shaking as he practically ripped off your borrowed pajamas, fingers moving fast and settling over every part of your body, seemingly unable to decide on where to stay.

It was rushed, desperation clouding both of your senses, but as Shouta threw your leg over his shoulder and pressed wet kisses against the juncture of your shoulder and neck, his whispered affirmations of his love for you only had you pulling him closer, adoration and shock and something so happy it nearly hurt filling his chest.

Perhaps, just perhaps, something in you loved him as he loved you.  

MAIN THREE KINKS

Clothed Sex

It’s about convenience for Shouta – he’s not lazy in the bedroom, but although he finds you irresistible and is normally willing to expend what very little energy he has on sex with you, he’s willing to take any shortcut he can.

Of course, sex with you in an ideal world sees the both of you completely nude, your bodies pressed as close together as physically possible so that not a breath of space lays between them. He likes being close to you, feeling every inch of you, the intimacy of it unmatched and making Shouta revel in the fact that you’re really there with him, that he’s really getting to touch you, that he’s really getting to kiss you and touch you and fuck you, just as he’s been fantasizing of for months.

But that said, there’s a strange allure to clothed sex – it’s taboo and a little dirty, something that makes him feel a little warm, his palms growing a bit sweaty because it could happen at any time. Whenever the mood strikes him or strikes you, he could simply unzip his pants, shuffle them down a bit and fish out his cock, and he'd be ready to go – already half-hard, the eager anticipation of your touch exciting him from nearly the moment you entered the room.

And it’s easy access to you, too – not that he’d ever take advantage of that fact, your consent still something he asks for every time he touches you. It’s easy to slip your panties to the side, sinking you down onto his lap as he groans and his head lolls back, the feeling of your warmth making his toes curl. He just likes how easy it all is – no time is wasted with struggling to get off your shirt or his pants, and the desperation to be inside you that always seems to overwhelm him at the most inconvenient of times can be attended to that much faster.

He just thinks there’s something so hot about it – he’ll specifically stock you with clothing to wear that makes this easy – flouncy skirts and shorts that make shoving everything to the side and bunching his fist into the cloth to get better leverage while he pounds into you.

He’ll get you tank tops and things that make fishing your breasts out of your top easy, so that they can freely hang and jiggle as he bounces you up and down on his lap, your nipples hardening and shivers racing down your spine as he flicks his tongue at one.

He’ll buy underwear that doesn’t chafe when he shoves it to the side, the pretty sight of lace against your skin making him feral, making him fuck into you harder and more frantically because you almost look like some sort of lewd present when you’re wearing that lingerie – like his very own present, the one thing in the world he wants more than anything else.

And he’ll wear clothing that makes this easy, too – pants that can be unzipped and boxers he can tuck underneath his balls, making sure that nothing gets in the way. And although having sex without clothes is much more common than with clothes, Shouta will surprise you and suddenly press up behind you in the kitchen, telling you that you look too good, that he can’t help himself, that he needs you, and has to fuck you right here, right now, I can’t wait.

And so when you nod, he’ll flip up that skirt of yours – the main culprit for the throbbing between his legs, of course, because the clear view of your legs and thighs makes his mouth water – and slip aside those panties, his cock already out and hard and dripping for you.

It’s spontaneous, more than anything, and it’s one of the only ways in which Shouta is a little carefree with sex – one of the only times that he isn’t serious, or at least as serious.

The main way Shouta likes to engage in clothed sex, though, is through cockwarming. He just likes being close to you – he’s touch-starved, and although he doesn’t have the energy to actually fuck you, he still wants to be inside you, to have your body against his, to have you near and be smelling your scent and hearing your voice.

And so, it’s not a rare occurrence to have him pull you into his arms on his modest leather couch, your frumpy sweatpants and t-shirt (both his, of course, a fact that isn’t lost on him – he will not be washing either of those items when they eventually are off your body) covering your form and his own loungewear covering his.

He’ll shuffle up behind you, pulling you against him so that he’s spooning you, and before long you’ll feel something poking at your ass – something hard and insistent, something that seems to be bobbing and moving every few moments.

Truthfully, Shouta couldn’t say what got him hard – perhaps it was just being with you, or maybe smelling you, or the sight of you in his clothes. It could be any number of things – but his breath hitches as you swallow and carefully tug down the hem of your sweatpants, pressing your exposed ass back against him.

He makes a sound like a low whistle, and then he’s fishing his cock out of his own pants, the tip already wet with precum as he shifts his hips to slip between your legs, propping your leg up over his so that he can push inside. He does so with a small groan, resting his forehead against your back, and he feels you clench down on him.

He’s content to lay there – the warmth of his clothing and from you almost too much, but seeing the way you snuggle deeper into the shirt sending something warm and hot and possessive through his chest. He’ll just pull you against him tighter, the slight shift making the both of you hiss at the small burst of pleasure. He’s content to fall asleep that way – relaxed, his cock still nestled inside of you and hard as a rock, the feeling of your cunt lulling him into dreams filled with you naked and moaning his name, all bouncing breasts and desperate hands and begs for more.

(Don’t be surprised, when this happens, to wake up feeling something dripping out of you – yes, it’s cum and yes, that wet dream was enough to get him there. Don’t mention it, either, because Shouta’s always disappointed that he wasn’t awake for it - after all, call him old-fashioned but finishing inside of you is arguably his favorite selfish part of sex.)

Overstimulation

Shouta is not a stingy lover. In the bedroom, he lives to see you enjoying yourself – it soothes this primal, horrible ache in his chest that yearns or your approval and happiness. A lot of his obsession is born out of a desire to please you and keep you happy and safe, and this translates into making absolutely sure you’re satisfied in every possible way between the sheets.

Sex isn’t really sex until you’ve had at least two orgasms, whether that be because of his fingers or tongue, and only then will he throw your pretty legs up over his shoulders, sinking into you with a sharp exhale and letting his face rest against your sternum as he wills himself to not get too excited, to keep his cool and not rut into you like wild animal. He wants you to enjoy sex with him – he craves intimacy with you and he needs you to crave it too, and he’s hopeful that by giving you the best attention and care in bed, you’ll be more inclined to kiss and hold him, to touch him and whisper those three little words in his ear.

(The three little words that make him gasp and shudder, cum immediately spurting out of his red, swollen tip, his knuckles turning white as he grips onto your thigh and the bedsheets tightly enough to keep himself grounded through the pleasure.)

And so, Shouta finds that there’s something darkly pleasing about being the one to get you orgasming, being the source of your pleasure – seeing your face twist up, your mouth forming that pretty ‘o’ and your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

Shouta develops a bit of a sick fascination with seeing just how often he can make you come for him, and from what. It stems from a good place; a genuine desire to make you happy and get you shaking with pleasure and incoherent enough that all you can say is his name.

 He likes to choose how you come – will it be his fingers? Will he draw pretty circles on the inside of your thighs, teasing you and feeling the way your breathing picks up a bit, a whine of his name telling him that you’re growing impatient, that you need more, that you need him?

He’ll get closer and closer to your folds, pressing a thumb against them and dipping in ever so slightly, the dull pleasure making you bite your lip, embarrassment eating you alive because it feels so dirty to be teased like this, to keep your legs so wide open for him, to feel the way his eyes are staring at you so fully and intensely, the adoration and lust swimming in those dark depths nearly too much for you handle.

He’ll press two fingers against your clit and get to work, rubbing with light pressure and slowly increasing it, feeling the way the nub gets harder and more swollen, fingers swiping down to collect a bit of your slick to make things easier, the pads of his fingers gliding along your sensitive skin and making your hips jump and twist.

He’ll use his other hand to finger you, rough calloused skin dragging against your walls and pressing right into the spot he knows you love – the one that makes your back arch up, your head pushing back against the pillow, your nails digging into the bedsheets and tangling through his hair. Working you through an orgasm with his fingers is his favorite and what you’ll most likely get – he gets a front row seat, watching with rapt attention as you fall apart for him, feeling the way your thighs tremble and close in around him when you’re right on the edge.

There’s this feeling of power, pride and desire making him light headed and only work harder at his ministrations, ignoring your yelps and gasps of overstimulation because he needs to see that again, to feel the way you clench down onto his fingers so tightly that he has to work to pull them out to thrust back in. You’re just so damn sexy, the sight of you laying before him with your pretty legs spread wide open making him swallow so hard you can hear it.

But of course, Shouta also loves using his mouth to get you off – pink lips attaching to your nipple, sucking and running his tongue over your areola to make you squirm, your little keens making his cock twitch against your thigh.

He’ll kiss at your hips, making a trail down to your clit, giving you little kitten licks while his eyes flick up to look at you, seeing the way you sigh and bite your lip, the rising and falling of your chest making him near feral.  

He wants to see you moan and writhe, to feel you grasping at him and needing him, and so his patience wears out and he dives between your legs, slick coating his nose and chin as he licks and sucks and thrusts his tongue against you, eyes closed in concentration and hair getting in his face but he doesn’t care – how can he, when you sound so pretty moaning his name like that?

How can he, when your thighs are clenching around his head and you’re just so fucking wet for him, showing him exactly how much he’s affecting you?

It's euphoric, and soon you’ll be crying out his name and creaming all over his lips, shaking in his grasp so hard that he has to hold you down by the hips to help you ride out the pleasure, the taste of you making him so hard that it hurts.

And god, there’s something about the way you respond to voice and his commands in bed that makes Shouta curse under his breath. You look up at him all wide-eyed, pleasure written across your face as you look to him for guidance, his voice gruff and thick with lust as he tells you to let go, come for me, want to see you come for me.

You immediately furrow your brows and bite your lip, grinding yourself harder against his fingers, feeling the pads of them brush against the spot that has you seeing stars, his name a prayer as you chant it over and over, only stopping to moan or gasp.

The sight is intoxicating, leaving Shouta gaping like a fish with parted lips and heavy breaths, staring at you like you’re something heavenly, divine, unable to tear his gaze away because he still can’t quite believe this is happening, that you’re moaning his name, that you’re letting him touch you and oh, he knows what that change in your facial expression means, how you’re blinding grasping at him, how you’re stuttering out a rushed ‘m coming, Shouta ‘m coming fuck-!

Watching you come undone right before his eyes has Shouta’s cock throbbing, his hips subtly moving against your thigh because he needs friction, the sight of you and the knowledge that he made you this way nearly too much for him to bear.

And when you finally calm down, your breathing wild and your eyes a little glazed over, he’ll just swallow and quickly situate him hips between your legs, gripping himself at the base and impatiently prodding at your entrance, his words dark as he tells you that you’ve got another one in you, give it to me.

When he pushes in – slowly, so as not to hurt you – he lets out a groan, only muffled by the way he leans down to kiss you, feeling the way you tense up and eagerly return the gesture, wrapping your ankles around his waist and pulling him deeper, showing him that you need more more more if you’re going to finish like he wants you to.

And Shouta’s happy to oblige – snapping his hips into you until his muscles are sore and screaming, a thumb relentlessly toying with your clit, his lips against your neck and whispering praise tainted with curses.

He’s encouraging you to feel good, telling you to tell me how it – fuck, how it feels, you’re so goddamn tight, tell me how to fuck you – o-oh…

Because really, while he loves to get you coming and falling apart on his terms, Shouta’s pride flies out the window where you’re concerned – he’d do anything to get you clenching down on him and begging him to finish inside you.

Anything.

Voyeurism

Honestly, it’s a byproduct of having stalked you for such an extended period of time. Watching you was the only way to feel close to you – he wasn’t able to hold you and kiss you, to feel you and lay with you and make you whine his name, and becoming your shadow was the only possible substitution.

And even then, it wasn’t enough – all the guilt he harbors from watching you in your more intimate moments never fades, not even after years of having stolen you away, your pretty body and mind fully his to do as he pleases. He’s still ashamed, but some things he just simply can’t unlearn – and so, even once your sexual relationship begins, Shouta finds himself still utterly excited by the prospect of watching you pleasure yourself.

It’s dirty, horrible, something that makes him feel so guilty he can hardly stand it, but he can’t not stop and watch through the crack in your door when he hears what sounds suspiciously close to muffled whimpers.

He can’t not press his ear against the wooden door, closing his eyes and imagining what you’re doing to yourself – maybe you’re playing with that cute little clit, rubbing it in circles and biting your lip because it just feels so damn good, mimicking the way that Shouta works you up slowly and steadily, getting you so sensitive that your hips jump and twitch at just the slightest bit of pressure against your sensitive nerves.

(He’s had dreams about the way you taste – he thinks you’d be musky, something natural and strong and savory, a taste he wants in his mouth at all hours of the day. And the way you’d tremble and gush for him if it was his fingers and mouth toying with the nub, how you’d tangle your fingers in his hair and pull him closer and closer to you, needing as much of him as possible, needing him him him…)

Maybe you’re sinking your fingers inside of you, working up from one to three, stretching yourself out and imagining it’s him instead, that he’s the one filling you up and making your toes curl, that he’s the one causing all those pretty noises to fall from your lips.

(He knows just how much bigger his own fingers are – he’ll imagine the size difference, his eyes shutting tight when he thinks of how much more he can stretch you out, how much better he can make you feel, how the texture of his fingers must send pleasure up your spine in a way that your soft, comparatively dainty fingers can’t.)

Maybe you’re perched up on a pillow, straddling it with your cunt pressed snugly against the fabric, slick smearing across the cotton as you grind your hips back and forth, hunched over so that the angle is just right, imagining it’s him underneath you and it’s his thigh or cock you’re rubbing against.

(He’s had wet dreams about this sight, always hoping and fantasizing that you’re just so desperate for him that you’re imagining it’s his face you’re riding, his mind conjuring up the sound of your voice moaning out his name and telling him yes yes o-oh fuck yes, Shouta ‘s so good, you feel so good! He’d never seen you riding a pillow during all those months of stalking, but the idea’s just too graphic and wanton and lewd for him to not fantasize about, the idea satisfying the part of him that’s embarrassed and ashamed of just how badly he craves you – because surely if you’re humping some piece of cotton and pretending it’s him, then what does he have to be embarrassed about? Lots, really, but it makes him feel slightly better.)

Or maybe you’ve decided that you want something a little more physical, something to really mimic him – he’d seen you using your vibrator many, many times before he stole you away. His face always turned pink at the sight, his throat going dry and his grip on his capture weapon a little loose as he simply stared, the sight of your pretty body contorting and the plastic held against the crest of your pelvic bone making everything else fade away.

You’re so damn pretty – the way you moan and sigh, how your legs twitch, how your breasts sway and jiggle with every motion, making his fingers ache to reach out and squeeze, to knead and touch and grope, like some sort of pervert.

And this fantasy and mental image has stayed with him long after kidnapping you – once your physical relationship begins and Shouta no longer feels it would make you even more uncomfortable and scared of him, he’s buying you a replacement for that trusty vibrator you used to use to death. He’d left it on your nightstand one morning with a hasty note simply saying I’m gone a lot, I don’t want you to get lonely.

Of course, this is only half the truth – he does want you to be happy, and he doesn’t want you to grow resentful of the times when he’s too exhausted to give you proper sex. But of course, the unspoken portion of this gift is that he wants to watch you use said vibrator – and badly.

He wants to sit in a chair at the side of the bed, legs spread wide as he grips the base of his cock, absentmindedly squeezing at his balls while his dark eyes stay trained on your figure. He wants you to be spread out for him, perhaps a skimpy set of lingerie covering your pretty body (or perhaps none at all, if you’re comfortable with it) with your legs spread wide, the vibrator in your hand hovering against your clit. He wants to hear the steady, dull buzzing sound mixing with your whimpers, to see the way your body tenses up and you whine, feet flexing and shaky breaths slipping past your lips as you slowly work towards your high.

He wants to see the way you eventually grow impatient, changing the vibrator’s setting and immediately crying out, the feeling much more intense and making your orgasm hurtle towards you, getting slick all over the bedspread as you cry out his name and writhe.

And Shouta doesn’t want you to look at him – he doesn’t want you to acknowledge that he’s there. Ignore him, just as you would have back when he was simply watching from outside your window – he wants to watch you, not have a show be put on for him.

You’re just too pretty, and there’s something about watching you that gets him hard as rock, his fist twisting and flicking so quickly it’s nearly a blur as he watches you transition to fucking yourself with the toy, your cries loud and wanton as Shouta grunts and curses under his breath. He wants to finish with you this time, his hips thrusting against his hand in an effort to match the pace you’ve set for yourself. It’s a dirty secret of his, and while Shouta won’t force you into it, just know that he would love to catch you masturbating – just the sight of you pleasuring yourself is enough to get him hot under the collar immediately, hand rushing into his trousers to cup himself because god.

He just likes to watch you, and even during regular sex when he’s folded you in half, those eyes are alternating between watching your face, your bouncing breasts, and your cunt swallowing his cock again and again and again, his cheeks a rosy pink and a bead of sweat dripping from his brow.

You’re just too pretty, he can’t take it – how can he not immediately want to get something of his on you, staining your lovely skin and gorgeous face with his cum?

OTHER NOTABLE KINKS INCLUDE

Hair Pulling

But not on you – unless you like it, in which case he might consider but will only ever do it lightly. He doesn’t like causing pain in general, and would only be willing to do it in very specific scenarios – and even then, it will be as gently as he possibly can.

Rather, Shouta likes when you pull his hair – he doesn’t let most people touch it, and it’s a rare day that he actually runs a comb through it, so as a result his scalp is extremely sensitive. And so, when you tunnel your fingers through his dark locks and pull, Shouta audibly groans, the tingling pain sending pleasure racing down his spine.

There’s just something naughty about it – only you get to touch him like this, so only you get to run your fingers through his hair and tug at it.

He particularly likes when you pull it while he’s got his face between your legs. He likes how your fingers tunnel through it and scrape against his scalp, and he’ll often use it as an indicator of whether he’s doing a good job or not. If you pull often and hard, he knows he’s doing what he needs to do – he’ll keep the pace up and stay in that same spot, doing everything and anything in his power to keep you pulling at it, working through any pain in his jaw or tongue because he needs to make sure you’re feeling good even at his own expense.

When he’s got you perched on his face, your pretty thighs framing his head so that all he can smell and taste and feel is you, he likes to have you reach down and still pull lightly at the roots, your breasts squished together and nipples taut, the visual alongside your taste and the slight pain from his scalp making his eyes roll to the back of his head and precum dribble down his length.

When he’s hovering over you and thrusting into you, balls clapping against your ass and your legs wrapped around his waist, he likes to have you tug at his hair, moaning out and crying his name with each tug and letting his ego swell, each burst of light pain making his hips go harder, faster, deeper, anything to get you louder and clenching around him tighter.

Even when you’re just kissing – simple, innocent kisses full of smiles and his hands gripping you just ever so slightly, Shouta likes to have you running your hands through his hair and tugging lightly, keeping him on his toes and forcing his cock to life.

He just really, really likes to have you touch his hair – it’s something intimate and something he’ll only ever let you do, so really, you should count yourself lucky. Shouta sure does when he’s buried deep inside you, watching your face and feeling your hands in his hair as he gives you every last drop he has to offer.

Mirror Sex

In general, Shouta absolutely loves watching you in bed. He thinks you’re genuinely the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen, and when you’re gasping on his cock and moaning his name, you’re even prettier, even more breathtaking and lovely and perfect.

And while he prefers positions where he can see your face, he wants to be able to see your expressions always, even if he’s got you bent over while he presses his back to your chest and mounts you like some sort of wild animal.

And so, to solve this problem, Shouta invests in a modest, simple mirror that he keeps facing the end of your ‘shared’ bed – it’s roughly four feet tall and two feet wide, the perfect size so that when he’s got you on your hands and knees for him, your back arching and your arms threatening to give out, he can watch your eyes roll to the back of your head.

He’ll experiment with the pacing of his thrusts, going deeper and harder to see the way your brows scrunch up, how your jaw drops and the most depraved whine slips out of you, pride and arousal swelling in his chest because he made you make that noise.

He’ll go slower and keep his thrusts brushing against the spots that make you gasp just so that he can see the way your lips twitch.

He’ll speed up, fucking into you so fast that his balls slap lewdly against your ass, the noise filling the room alongside your pants and his groans, watching all the while how your eyes flutter and your back arches. He’ll sit you in his lap facing the mirror, spreading your legs and getting to work with his fingers curling and rubbing inside of you, a thumb circling your clit and his lips at your ear as he tells you to watch, pretty, see how good you look?

He’ll kiss a line from behind your ear, down your neck and over your shoulder, occasionally glancing up to the mirror to make sure you’re actively looking, whispering praises against your skin each time.

And he’ll bring you close to the mirror, too – sitting you only a foot away from the reflective surface, letting you get a nice view of Shouta’s favorite sight – your cunt, all spread out and wet, practically begging for something big, heavy, and throbbing to fill it, to stretch it out and make you see stars.

He’ll spread your lips, exposing your clenching hole, smiling at your reflection and making you tell him that you’re pretty, forcing you to grow comfortable with your body because he knows that it makes you insecure to see so much of yourself, and it drives him crazy.

He’ll even fuck you against the mirror – forcing you to watch your face from mere inches away, your hot breaths fogging up the glass, and he’ll make you come like that – holding your chin straight ahead and telling you to watch, sh-shit, watch, don’t take those fucking eyes off your face in a strained voice.

He just likes getting a good view of you during sex – you’re too pretty not to be seen, after all.  

BIGGEST FANTASY

In general, Shouta absolutely loves being intimate with you. While he’s no virgin, he doesn’t have an extensive amount of experience, and frankly he’s never been the biggest fan of sex – it’s too messy, too energy draining, and just a massive hassle.

However, when it’s with you, and when you moan his name just right and leave your nail marks down his back, Shouta will gladly strip his clothing at your beck and call, his lips already on yours before you can even finish your sentence.

And while he loves good, rough, passionate sex that’s full of smacking hips, gasps, moans and growls, there’s something to be said for slower, gentler sex, the kind that’s full of airy breaths and slow, meaningful kisses.

It’s the kind of sex where you can really feel him; every inch of him, the way his body covers yours as he hovers over you, the tickle of his hair against your jaw and neck as he buries his face in the juncture of your shoulder and collarbone, his hips rocking into yours and managing to grind against that one perfect spot that gets you sighing out a moan. It’s just more intimate this way, less of a wild, frantic race to get inside of you and more a slow, controlled love making, as embarrassed as he is to use to term.

Regardless, you’re most likely to get this type of sex from Shouta in two specific scenarios – the first of which being after a very long day, filled with a harrowing patrol where he maybe wasn’t able to save everyone, or things didn’t go according to plan. When this happens, he needs to just hold you, to feel you, to hear you whisper his name under your breath and tell him how good he feels, how he’s the best you’ve ever had, how he’s the only one you’ll ever want…

The second – and far more likely – scenario is in the early hours of the morning, when the sunlight is streaming into the modest apartment he keeps you in, your shared bed feeling warm with your bodies pressed against one another. Soft, sleepy morning sex is Shouta’s favorite, and something that he tries to incite as often as he possibly can.

There’s just something about it that gets him hot under the collar; maybe it’s the casualness of it all, the way it feels so natural, so human and so right, as if your bodies were made for each other. Maybe it’s the way it feels so intimate, like you’re both raw, yourselves in the most wonderful way.

Or maybe it’s the way you’re still just slightly sleepy, and you’re much more likely to be clingy at this time, touching him more and letting your real noises come out, not hindered by any shame or hate or embarrassment.

Regardless, Shouta loves it – so on the rare weekends where he’s off, expect to be woken up on the brink of an orgasm just as you deserve.

A yawn slips past Shouta’s lips, eyes peeling open and seeing the gray of his bedsheets. Everything is warm and soft, and as he shifts slightly, something moves next to him.

Nothing seems real for a few moments as he gazes down at you, your body curled up next to his own. It doesn’t feel real that you’re really here – in his bed without any clothing, happily sleeping without a care in the world. He swallows, something coming over him and moving him slowly – carefully – peel off the covers, moving down to where your legs slightly part.

He leans down, face mere inches away from the tufts of your pubic hair, his eyes fluttering closed as he inhales. You’re perfect – and as he gently pries your legs open further, Shouta can’t help but think of how often he’s fantasized about this very moment – how often he’s dreamt of what’s between your thighs, how he’d lay awake at night and press his fingers between two pillows, grinding his fingers against the cotton and pretending it was you, imagining how warm and wet you’d be for him.

He swallows, determination setting his brow as he lays onto his stomach, shuffling so that he can lightly lick at your inner thighs, eyes closing at the familiar taste of you. He takes his time, going slowly and softly, licking closer and closer to your pretty folds, eventually reaching them and licking his lips at the taste.

A thumb comes up to slowly press against your clit, knowing too much pressure would hurt and not warm your body up the way it needed. He continues his licks, before switching roles and starting to suckle at your clit as a finger dips between your folds, collecting the slick and rubbing it between his fingers.

Soon he’s pressing one inside, feeling the way your thighs twitch slightly, a small, sleepy moan ringing in his ears. God, you’re so damn perfect – even unconscious you’re enough to get his cock throbbing against the cotton sheets.

He keeps his pace slow, but as time passes you stir a bit, and when he hears your sleepy voice mumble out his name, Shouta curses, his fingers speeding up a bit.

That gets you more awake – soon your fingers are carding through his hair, sighs and murmurs of his name sounding like heaven.

“Mm, Shouta, that feels good…” You mumble, still dazed from waking up. Your hips are twitching now, a sign that the pleasure is slowly beginning to build.

Shouta groans against your cunt, the sound muffled.

Soon his fingers are picking up the pace again, his circles and licks at your clit growing more insistent, and the hands weaving through his hair start to tug – the sensation gets him humping at the bed for a moment, the morning glow still shining on you as he glances up at your face. You look like an angel – shining in the sunlight, your lips parted in a moan, head thrown back in pleasure.

Shouta pulls back for a moment, sending a kiss to your clit that makes your hips buck. He chuckles a bit, licking his lips.

“You’re so beautiful..” He whispers against your thigh, pressing open mouthed kisses against the skin. You hum at his compliment, and he watches as you smile, his breath practically punched out of his lungs.

“Shouta, you’re too good to me…” Your voice is soft, too, and soon he’s back to sucking at your clit, feeling the way your body jolts slightly, the pleasure making you sigh and swallow. He watches the movement of your throat.

“Feels good, mm yes, oh Shouta - just like that,” You start, eyes closed again, and Shouta finds himself abandoning the gentle pace he’d adopted, instead being more insistent, more pushy – suddenly overwhelmed with the urge to get you coming on his fingers.

You gasp lightly at the new change in pace, grinding your hips to match the new stimulation, and it makes Shouta dizzy. How can you be so attractive? How can you look so perfect in this moment; in his bed, moaning his name, looking and tasting and smelling like his own personal slice of heaven?

It’s cheesy and he’s almost embarrassed, but tears prick at the corners of his eye.

Soon your gasps have turned to moans, and all too soon you warn him in a slurred voice that you’re coming, your back arching up off the mattress and your moans light and airy as you gush against his fingers, white coating all the way down his knuckles and onto his palms. It makes him choke a bit, the feeling of your cunt rhythmically clenching down on him and your chest heaving, and with a final lick to your clit that makes you jerk, he’s moving up to kiss you.

The kiss is slow, his tongue brushing against yours and wet sound filling the room, but Shouta doesn’t mind. How could he, when he’s never felt this relaxed before?

His eyes slowly open as he feels your fingers wrap around him, a thumb brushing along his tip to collect a bit of the wetness there.

“Shouta, let me make you feel good.” You tell him, your voice just a whisper.

He looks at you, his lips parted for a brief moment, before a small smile quirks up the corners of his mouth. “Why would you do that?”

You trace the line of his jaw with your free thumb. The slow strokes of his cock have him a bit distracted, but he hears every word you speak to him. “Because I love you.”

He swallows, the words making something feel tight in his throat.

You laugh a bit at his silence and the dumbstruck look on his face. “What? Do you not love me too?”

And to answer that, Shouta scoffs, leaning down to kiss you again as he grasps himself around the base, pulling himself away from you and pushing into you, feeling your sharp intake of breath against his lips.

His pace is slow, soft, like he’s trying to tell you something – hips moving slowly and deeply, letting you feel every inch of him. He kisses your neck as your head falls back, your eyes fluttering closed.

Pressing a kiss against your collarbone, Shouta smiles against your skin, a groan falling from his lips.

“I love you, more than you’ll ever know.”

And he means it – you’ll don’t know half of the things he’s done for you, and as he squeezes at your breast and hears your soft moan, he knows he’ll never tell you.

[saintsenara]

JKR really could’ve done with throwing at least one successful wizarding/muggle couple in there…

as much as i hate to say it, i actually quite like that wizard/muggle mixed marriages canonically don't really work, whether or not it was an intentional decision from jkr to present it this way.

the wizarding state is really quite authoritarian, and the sole motivation for its repression is to prevent muggles from learning about magic's existence. it also seems to have social mores - especially around gender - which are much more old-fashioned than those in 90s britain, which is only to be expected from a small, insular community.

the only plausible theory we can draw from canon is that - while this might change post-war [hence ron taking a driving test] - living in the magical world means separating yourself entirely from the institutions of muggle society. unless you actively insist upon it [which is my theory about ron learning to drive - i think hermione makes him as a point of pride in her muggle heritage], you don't have a passport, or a bank account, or a national insurance number [so you can't work in the muggle world], you don't use the nhs, you don't have any muggle-recognised qualifications, and so on...

everything you might do which would generate a record with the muggle state - getting married, buying a house, having a baby, etc. - has its own parallel system in the wizarding world.

[to the extent that - surely - a witch who marries a muggle man in a muggle ceremony isn't legally married in the eyes of the wizarding state? tom riddle might be a legitimate heir in the muggle world and a bastard in the magical one...]

and while we know there are wizarding agents embedded in muggle institutions [from snape saying in deathly hallows that petunia's letter to dumbledore must have been intercepted by undercover wizards working for the post office], their purpose isn't to facilitate cross-community interaction... it's to contain breaches of the statute of secrecy and stop muggles finding out about magic.

as a result, i think it's really likely that muggles married to witches or wizards have literally no rights in the magical world. and i think that opens up two ways of thinking about mixed marriages which are worth exploring:

firstly, that the number of abusive magic/muggle relationships must be enormous - and not just because of the violence the power imbalance caused by magic has the possibility of inflicting, but because the muggle partner has absolutely no hope of having their abuser face justice.

[after all, i guarantee that the only thing which would happen if a wizard was arrested by the muggle police for assault is the state's obliviators swanning in to wipe the memories of everyone involved... there's not a ministry worker we meet in the books who seems likely to think that muggle women's rights were more important than upholding the statute of secrecy...]

and secondly, that there must be plenty of non-abusive magical/muggle relationships which end up being impossible for the people involved to sustain because it's just too difficult to deal with the restrictions placed upon the couple by the wizarding state.

the complete legal separation between the two worlds - and the implied difficulty this causes in making it possible to form cross-community relationships - is one of the really subtle, insidious ways that the ministry maintains blood- and magic-supremacy, which canon hints at but never really delves too deeply into. and so i think it's worthwhile for us to take that and run with it...

[mj0702]

The other Bronze – Pt.7.1

Okay guys... since I'm having just too much fun writing the Beach day, here are about 7k of Beach and we're not done that's why I decided to split Pt.7 into two chapters😉

I hope you have fun with this part - the next one will be coming in a couple of days ❤️❤️

Lucy parked her beloved holy Cupra in a parking deck near the Beach to one have the car away from the sun so it won't heat up so much and two give you some more time to “prepare”. As she killed the engine she turns over to look at you

“Firstly... I'm proud of you for not destroying my Car by pushing any buttons” she grinned and you rolled your eyes playfully “and secondly... it's about a five minute walk to the Beach... it COULD happen that I get recognized by fans... if so, please don't start trouble – most of them are REALLY nice and also really respectful... but you know yourself from previous encounters there are some that are rude...” she said insistently.

“Lucy... it's not the first time I'm out and about with you...” you rolled your eyes annoyed

“You once kicked a man in the knee” your sister raised her eyebrow at you

“He was inappropriate, extremely rude, loud, demanding AND intoxicated...” you defended yourself remembering this encounter

“You were 10” your sister reminded you

“Mills and Jill bought me the biggest ice cream as a reward” you grinned happily at this particular memory

“They always rewarded you for shitty behaviour... he could have hit you... he was fairly drunk” Lucy said rolling her eyes again “but we're not talking about the past... we're talking now... please don't start trouble IF we encounter fans...”

“As long as they're cool, I'm cool” you shrugged your shoulders. Just because Lucy was the older one it didn't mean you couldn't be just as protective of her as she is of you

“I'm able too handle it, okay...” she said insistently again “... I'm not even sure if we run in to them anyway”

“Yeah okay... I TRY to behave” you huffed and opened the door “I take ice cream as payment”

“You can shove that ice cream up your...” your sister started as you smirked at her

“Kinky”

“Stop it” Lucy groaned as she took your bags and locked her car “Stanway turned you into a monster... definitely going to “talk” to her about that”

“If you hurt her I'll leak baby videos of you” you threaten her light hearted

“I know you would” your sister grinned as she laid her arm around your shoulder pulling you into her side and press a soft kiss to your temple “I really missed you Bubs”

“You're too young – never thought I'm going to say THAT but here we are – for Menopause.. what's with the hormonal stuff” you looked at her pulling a face never being one for affection in public

“Just enjoy it, Devils Spawn” Lucy mocked “and remember you can ALWAYS come to me for anything... advice, talking, venting, even if you just need a shoulder to cry on... I'm here Bubs”

“I know” you whispered softly

“Okay... than lets go... as soon as we're close to the Beach you need to stumble a lot... you did that... and you had this loopy grin... uh... and you only called Keira by her name... everyone else had nicknames... Alexia was “pretty spaniard”, Atiana was “flawless spaniard” and Mapí was “colorbook spaniard”...” your sister listed off

“I left out Ona?” you looked confused

“Oh no... she was just “spaniard”... you have another hour to find a new name for her.. and you basically got everyone to scramble around for you... just... hold back with Tana... she is shy anyway and you calling her flawless probably made her a little uncomfortable” Lucy shrugged her shoulders before asking you to told back on the flirty comments towards her teammate

“No flawless spaniard... got it” you nodded seriously – today was for funnies’ anyway

“Good... they won't take you serious if you do it right anyway, so... flirt away if you can justify yourself to your girlfriend if there are clips leaked” your sister grinned evilly

“You are honestly one big bitch” you said bewildered at her implication while she just started laughing pulling you along

Of course Lucy got recognized by some fans on your way to the Beach and she patiently signed and took pictures with all of them while you waited near by. You noticed a small girl – maybe four or five – who looked longingly at your sister. You slowly shuffled towards the girl not to startle her you crouched down next to her

“Hi” you said smiling friendly as the girl just looked at you afraid “What's your name, wee one?”

The girl just keeps staring at you but at least she didn't run or scream so you took that as a win – that's until you remember that you are in Spain where small girls probably don't speak english. You didn't speak spanish.

“Y/N” you tried it the old fashion way pointing at yourself before pointing at her looking at her expectantly smiling

“Bella” she said in a tiny whisper and you smiled wider as she answered you

“Hola Bella” you know opted to sit down next to her on the sidewalk as your sister was still occupied with signing stuff. You decided to “talk” to the girl pulling out your phone for a translation app since your spanish was more than broken – or more non existent.

“Cómo estás” the robotic voice of the App suddenly spoke and you smiled at the girl

“Buena gracias” she answered shyly which you actually understood

“¿Qué estás haciendo aquí solo?” the unpersonal voice said again after you quickly tipped in your question

“Esperanto a Lucia” Bella answered and you tried your best to type in what she said and finally concluded that she said she was waiting for Lucia

“¿Es Lucía tu... hermana? ¿mamá? Tía?” you really became a fan of that App after asking the young girl if Lucia was a relative and she seems to understand what you mean.

“No... Lucía Bronze... ella estás justo ahí” the little girl shook her head and pointed towards your sister.

“oh... OH... Lucy” you said understanding suddenly before typing quickly in your app again “¿quieres conocerla?”

Bellas eyes grow big for a minute before she started to fidget with her fingers looking down ashamed “no tengo un bolígrafo” she said quietly

“Okay... now I need your help, kiddo” you mumbled before holding out your phone to the little girl signalling her to write down what she just said. After a minute she seems to understand and started typing. You waited patiently until she handed your phone back looking at the screen looking up at her surprised

“What you need a pen for?” you said more to yourself than her typing out the question already

You communicated like this for a while and you learned that Bella was actually Isabella she was 5 years and 3 month old, she lived with a lot of children and Signora Viola in a big house, they currently are on an adventure – you looked around and saw a playground near by so you put together that the girl bolted once she saw Lucy and she was a BIG Fan of the Barcelona Femeni. You asked her again if she wanted to go over where you could see your sister wrapping things up and again the little girl got all shy. You told her that there was nothing to be shy about and that “Lucia” was just a normal person like her and you. Isabella shook her head furiously looking at you shocked comparing Lucy to “normal” people. You laughed wholeheartly before holding out your hand offering it to the small girl. After a second she took your hand and you slowly walked over to where a few fans were still standing around your sister waiting patiently.

“Oi Bronze” you yelled from a few feet away grinning widely as all heads turned to you your sister not even bothering to look up where she was signing a picture of – herself

“I said.. OI BRONZE!” you yelled louder as you came closer the little girl half hiding behind your legs

“I don't react to rude fans” your sister said calmly ignoring your presence before smiling for another picture “I thought we talked about it”

“Good thing then that I'm firstly NOT a fan and secondly I have found the most precious fan you'll ever meet” you grinned at your sister carefully pushing the small girl in front of you

“Where is her mother? Please don't tell me you kidnapped a kid” Lucy looked at you pleadingly

“Just... sign something for her it'll make her day... she doesn't have a sharpie tho...” you said and your voice told you're sister that you'll talk later. She trusted you so far that you didn't kidnap a little girl and crouched down to smile friendly at her.

“Hola soy Lucy y tu quien eres?”

“Isabella” the little girl answered shyly and pressed herself against you

“Hola Isabella, ese es un hermoso nombre.” Lucy smiled at the little girl

“Muchas gracias” Isabella mumbled “Mi mamá me lo dios antes de convertirse en ángel”

“Fuck” Lucy mumbled as it dawned on her and she looked at you “She doesn't have a mom?”

“From what I got through the app she's an orphan... and she's a big fan... so.. make her day” you gritted the last part through your teeth smiling down at the girl reassuringly

“Tu mamá eligió el nombre correcto: un hermoso nombre para una hermosa niña” your sister smiled warmly at Isabella “Qué puedo hacer por ti, Conejita?”

“no tengo papel ni lapiz” the girl sounded sad suddenly which made you perk up

“I told you to make her day not to make her sad” you looked at Lucy confused

“She said she doesn't have pen and paper so I think she would like to have an autograph but has nothing where I could write it on” your sister explained looking at you annoyed but her voice didn't show it because she didn't want to give a false impression to the kid

“Can you occupy her for hot minute?” you looked at your sister and she immediately knew you had an idea

“Sure... in comparison to you I speak spanish” she smirking at you

“In comparison to you I look good” you said before pushing Isabella towards your sister smiling at her encouraging

When you were sure the girl was happy enough talking now more freely with Lucy you searched your sisters back for her wallet before grinning brightly as you found it, took some money (a lot to be honest – but hey... she gets a good salary) and went back the way you came from the parking deck. Unknowns to your sister you immediately spotted a Jersey Shop when you exited the parking space and that's where you went. You quickly found the shop again, looking at kid jerseys as a blonde salesgirl walked over to you smiling

“Stalker much?” she asked and you immediately noticed the voice turning quickly on your heels

“Caro?” you asked confused but broke into a smile quickly as you recognized your new friend

“I see you're still alive so your sister didn't kill you?” she smiled

“She was THIS close.. but no.. she didn't kill me – but she overdosed my pain meds and let me made a fool out of myself in front of the whole team” you rolled your eyes

This made the german girl burst out laughing knowing immediately which team you were talking about

“You didn't call me.. or texted...” you said faking sounding hurt

“Yeah... funny story... I paid the Uber with your 20 – forgetting what was on the back of that bill” she said embarrassed

“Are you serious?” you looked at her stunned

“Yeah... sorry” she grinned apologetic

This time it was you bursting out laughing “That is such a Me move”

“You know I'd love to chat more but my store manager is already looking over... so... what can I help you with?” Caro put on a fake smile feeling the eyes of her boss on her

“I need a Jersey... for a five year old... Bronze on the back... and a sharpie if you sell those too” you said quickly as you didn't want to get her into trouble

“Anything you want to tell me?” the blonde grinned at you as she skilfully grabbed a plain Jersey

“Just met a girl... from what I got she's an orphan... she's a fan” you said as she pushed the small jersey into your hand and led you over to the printing station

“With the number?” Caro asked not wanting to push the subject

“Yeah... go all out... my sister is paying” you grinned thankful for the topic change as you held up a bundle of bills

About you 15 minutes later you left the store grinning a small bag in your hand and your sister about 150€ lighter (110 for the jersey and 40€ tip for the staff) but in your bag was a brand new kids Jersey with your sisters name on the back of it. You were still smiling as you rounded the last corner spotting your sister immediately sitting in the shade next to Isabella with an ice cream in her hand. You stopped for a second to take in the scene before quickly taking out your phone snapping a picture before yelling over to them

“OI BRONZE... can I have an autograph?” you grinned as her head snapped up at your voice

“Everything for my biggest fan” she smirked back at you as you walked over to them snatching Lucys ice out of her hand before tossing the bag in her lap

“Sign that and make that girls day” you said as you licked the ice cream “For good heavens... what's that?” you pulled a face making Isabella giggle

“Liquorice and Lavender” your sister answers distracted as she looked into the bag “You bought a Jersey?”

“What is wrong with you??? Are your taste buds this fucked? You have disgusting taste... and yes... I... you... you bought a jersey... a kids one... UWCL version... did you know the jerseys here are freakingish expensive?” you gagged trying to get the taste of the ice cream out of your mouth as Lucy told you you just had a lick of Liquorice ice cream

“I bought a jersey?” Lucy asked you confused as she pulled said item out of the bag

“Yep.. took your money... it's your jersey, so your money” you shrugged your shoulders taking a glance at the small girl who sat beside you silently watching your interaction but became big eyes when she saw the jersey.

“We'll talk about that later” Lucy shot you a glare before signing the Jersey and holding it out to Isabella telling her something in spanish. The small girl first smiled so widely she could have lit up a whole dark alley in seconds. Then she seems to remember something as she retreated a little bit getting a sad look on her face mumbling some spanish words. Lucy frowned at that and for you it looks like she tried to reassure the girl to take the jersey. Suddenly you noticed a woman coming running out of the playground area looking franticly around.

“Luce... I think that's this Viola woman” you nodded towards the woman with your head “I think precious Bella here bolted without telling someone”

It was in the same second as the woman spotted the little girl coming running over quickly rattling spanish words a million miles an hour – which caused you to just look at her bewildered and Lucy at least tried to keep up. Isabella looked down her hands behind her back. You gathered it was a spanish scolding which sounded even worse than all the scolding you received (are still receiving) from your sister.

“What is she saying?” you mumbled leaning slightly towards Lucy not wanting to get caught in the crossfire of that womans rant

“I have no clue” your sister whispered back

“Didn't you tell me you speak spanish?” you teased Lucy under your breath

“If she would speak spanish I would probably understand enough to string together what she's saying... but that's catalan” Lucy answered and you nodded understandingly

The womans head snapped in your direction making you shuffle carefully behind Lucy as the womans look could kill a dead guy. She took a few deep breaths before starting to talk to your sister who looked lost.

“Tell her you speak bad spanish – but not catalan” you nudged her from behind making her pushing back against you roughly but followed your idea talking to the woman in spanish. She seems to understand what Lucy tried to tell her immediately slowing down on the words pronouncing them more clear. The two talked for about five minutes (which you stayed for safety reasons behind your sister – you would easily volunteer her as a tribute if you had to) before Lucy gave the woman the little jersey and it looked like she made her something promise as you made out the words “Isabella” and “Camp Nuo”. Both – the Viola woman as you named her and little Isabella – said their goodbyes before going back towards the playground.

“Soooo... what was that about” you asked after you made sure the woman was gone

“Isabella really bolted – apparently she does this quiet often... and you were right... she's an orphan, lost both her parents about a year ago due to a car accident” Lucy said sadly “This was the housemother... she told me that Isabella is a good kid – very smart... introvert... reads a lot.. and sadly gets picked on a bunch because she's not as outgoing...”

“Luce... you told me once not as long as you play professional” you said your voice low and your sister knew immediately what you meant

“It's just not fair... I was painfully shy when I was younger and she deserves someone to stand up for her and tell her it's okay” your sister replied and you noticed it really bothered her

“I know Lucy... but.... you know yourself” you tried to bring your point across

“Yeah I know...” your sister huffed defeated

“I mean... mom would lose her shit if you come home for Christmas with a little girl calling her “Grandma”... I actually dig it...” you grinned trying lift your sisters mood

“She would definitely go hard on the egg-nog” Lucy mused but you saw a small smile tugging on her lips

“So... when are you going to see Isabella again?” you ask knowingly

“I've invited them to the next game... Viola said she needs to speak to some other people about it and yeah... I hope they can make it happen” your sister shrugged her shoulders

“Will you tell Ona... sorry... will you tell the spaniard about this incident? I really need to get into the headspace of being high” you asked mumbling the last part to yourself

“Maybe... when we have a quiet, uninterrupted moment” Lucy looked at you pointingly

“I slept till nearly lunchtime...” you defended yourself

“And I didn't met Isabella until 30 minutes ago you space cadet” your sister looks at you stunned by your not-logic

“Oh yeah... didn't think of that... uh... ice cream” you started before you got distracted by a small ice cream shop

“You really rock this pretending to be high scenario” Lucy looked at you proudly

“Thank you” you grinned “now... ice cream and then beach?”

“Course” your sister laughed as she pulled a five Euro bill out of her wallet “you really took my money???”

“It's not like I'm working” you shrugged your shoulders turning to the ice cream guy pointing to the two flavours you wanted – Espresso dark chocolate and Speculoos. Your sister paid for your ice cream grumbling under her breath but smiled as she saw how happy you looked with your ice cream cone.

“Bubs... beach rules apply for Barcelona beaches as well, do you hear me” Lucy looked at you intensely

“Awww man come on....” you whined licking away on your ice cream

“No... you don't go into the water without telling either Alexia, Keira, Ona or me... I would say Ingrid too but you haven't met her officially” your sister said stern

“It's the black haired Norwegian... girlfriend of the colorbook spaniard” you grinned being proud of yourself

“How many words did you spoke with Ingrid?” your sister raised her eyebrow as she led you towards Mar Bella Beach

“Ehrm... none?” you wrecked your brain for a second

“Exactly” Lucy grinned “By the way....” she pulled out her phone “... your hour starts... now”

Immediately your whole body language changed sinking against Lucy for support gripping your cone a little tighter starting to stumble along

“Why now?” you whispered

“Because in about 2 meters we're in eyesight...” Lucy whispered back holding onto your side tightly as you rounded the last corner

Just as your sister said you spotted the Barca femeni team immediately. Some of them were playing beach volleyball while others opted for relaxing in the hot sun and you instantly made out Keira. Which wasn’t hard – the only white white person in between a bunch of lovely tanned girls and she sat under an umbrella to not sit directly in the sun. So typical english.

“Keira is so english it's embarrassing” you mumbled making your sister burst out laughing “What... even YOU have a tan”

“Without tan-lines” Lucy smirked evilly

You really wanted to gag and whine but it would have blown your cover before your prank even began

“I hate you” you growled under your breath before getting interrupted by a VERY upset spanish voice

“Really Lucia... again??” Alexia exclaimed shocked and angry

“NOT my fault this time... she overdosed herself” Lucy held both her hands up in surrender letting go of you which made you “stumble” in the sand

“holasita pretty spaniard” you grinned trying to look as loopy as possible

“Ay dios mio...” Alexia mumbled as she pinched the bridge of her nose

“You look so pretty” you “slurred” and your sister gave you a secret thumbs up

“You told me before, Cariño” the Captain huffed “But thank you”

Right this moment you heard a “cuidadosa!!” and the volleyball hit you on the side of your head making you drop your ice cream cone

“María Leon!!!” Alexia yelled turning around in anger “I TOLD you not in this direction!”

“My ice cream” you whined looking down where your ice cream hit the sand

“I'll get you new ice Bubs” Lucy jumped in deciding to play along a little bit

“Oh no you won't” the blonde (pretty) spaniard interrupted your sister “María will buy ice cream... for EVERYONE”

“Que???!!!” Mapí exclaimed while you squealed happily

“I want that one” you pointed at your melting ice cream in the sand – you really liked playing the drugged one it seems to get you free stuff.

“Bubs... you need to choose something new... the place here doesn't have Speculoos... but the strawberry is really good” Lucy found fun in your little play too “supporting” you – even if it means she would lose 50€

“But I want Spec... Specs... Loos... Specloosers” you pouted mispronouncing the word on purpose

“I know... but look... you can have strawberry now and Speculoos later okay?” Lucy tried to “negotiate”

“What have you done to her?” suddenly a very arrogated Ona stood next to the two of you with Alexia still “discussing” with Mapí about how stupid actions have stupid consequences

“I did nothing... you told her where her painkillers were” Lucy defended herself again and this time you helped her out

“Thank you friendly spaniard – you're a good friend” you smiled all teeth at Ona

“You two can't be left alone for a few hours without causing trouble??” the small woman said bewildered and you heard Keira snickering behind you “Welcome to their World, Ona.. you will have A LOT of situations like these”

“Kei” you happily exclaimed turning quickly

“Hey Bitsy... come here a second, will you... your sister has to talk to the friendly spaniard for a moment in peace” your fellow englishwoman smiled inviting and you took her up on it and stumbled over to her.

“Hey Kei” you smiled “loopy” as you plopped down beside her on a towel

“For how long do I have to pretend to not notice that you definitely not high?” she asked you smirking after she studied you for a second

“What... How... Why??” you stared at her shocked

“Bitsy please... cut me some slack... I told you before... I was always able to tell.. what did Lucy promised you if you could pull this off?” Keira grinned speaking in a low voice not wanting to out you since you seemed to have fun

“50 bucks if I could pull it off for an hour without you noticing” you huffed sadly

“It took me one look if it makes you feel better” the english grinned “but I'll play along because it's actually fun seeing what you can come up with”

“Thanks Kei...” you smiled slightly before looking up “which of them did I call flawless?”

This time it was Keira bursting out laughing as she pointed at Aitana who was relaxing in the sun wearing an orange bikini, big sunglasses and a big white hat.

“At least I got that right” you looked impressed

“Do I have to remind you already that you have a girlfriend?” Keira smirked

“Doesn't mean I can't appreciate beauty if I see...” you started before you stopped abruptly your mouth dropping wide open as you see another woman approaching “Fuck me sideways... WHO's that... she's gorgeous”

“Huh??” Keira looked at you surprised before turning around looking who literally made you speechless

“Really Bitsy? Are you really drooling over Jenni?” she asked you with a raised brow turning back to you

“Gonna name her sexy spaniard” you grinned texting Georgia immediately who you kept in the loop all the time

“You have a girlfriend” Keira stressed

“And she just said either sexy or damn girl spaniard...” you grinned showing Keira the text from your girlfriend

“You two are really made for each other” the englishwoman groaned starting to massage her temples knowing she will have a lot to put up with in the future

“Don't worry Kei... you're going to be the one giving me away when we get married” you grinned

“Your sister won't let me do that” the blonde grinned

“She won't be able to walk because she fucked up her knee even more and I'm not walking next to her hobbling self” you waved off

Keira laughed and hugged you into her side smiling as Lucy came over having finished her talk with Ona about how this time it wasn't her fault that you were “high”

“Hey Bubs... you behaving for Kei?” she asked you smiling

“She's very good” Keira confirmed not showing that she knew you were in fact very much not high or overdosed

“Good... wanna join me and Ona over there?” Lucy pointed over to where Ona just laid down on her towel

“Nope” you answered popping the “p” “... not getting involved in your lovey-dovey shit”

“You're unbelievable you know that?” your sister exclaimed rolling her eyes “I have a very high self-control so not everything is about... THAT”

“You can't even say sex around me... what will you do when you find out that I have sex?” you asked the fact that you could pretend to not know what you're talking about helped you immense to rile your sister up

“Don't remind me” Lucy mumbled shivering

“Our Kid is growing up, Luce... let her be” Keira laughed swatting her exes shoulder playfully

“It must be your influence... if it would my influence she'd die a virgin” Lucy grinned back

“It's young love...” the blonde englishwoman rolled her eyes but smiling “... should I remind you how we were...”

“Please don't” you interrupted quickly “I already got scarred for life by her”

“Keira, Lucy.. you remember Jenni, sí?” Alexia interrupted your little banter appearing out of nowhere right next to Lucy

“Sí... hola Jenni... Cómo estás?” your sister smiled friendly laying her arm around your shoulders pulling you into her side away from Keira

“Estoy bien, muchas gracias...” Jenni smiled back pushing her sunglasses into her hair

“Pretty spaniard” you whisper yelled waving over excited trying to get Alexias attention which made Jenni looking at you confused raising an eyebrow at your antics

“Sí y/n?” Alexia looked at you grabbing your good hand to stop your waving

“Who's the sexy spaniard?” you ask “whispering” nodding her head excessively towards Jenni

Alexia closed her eyes breathing deeply her hand shooting up to her forehead starting to massage it as Jenni made a surprised noise

“Who?” the dark haired spaniard asked confused and surprised

You stayed in “character” making a little squeaky noise trying to “hide” behind Lucy

“Overdose on pain meds” your sister grinned widely before pointing towards Alexia “this is pretty spaniard... Aitana over there is flawless spaniard, Mapí is colorbook spaniard and YOU apparently are... what is Jenni Bubs?”

“Very sexy” you mumbled from behind Lucy

“Very sexy spaniard... welcome to the gang” your sister laughed as Jenni continued to look confused as hell

“I... can't follow” Jenni said her spanish accent thick as she spoke english

“Dear Mary mother of god” you half moaned “she sounds very sexy too... keep talking” you peaked over your sisters shoulder looking at Jenni expectantly

“Stop drooling... you are in a relationship” your sister said as she turned her head looking at you

“I'm so sorry Jen... don't take her seriously... she's... she's a walking disaster but really lovely at the same time – she's Lucias little sister” Alexia explained “you can always ignore her”

Jenni slowly nodded her brows still raised. You peaked out behind your sister again trying your best to look as loopy as possible. You took a step around Lucy just for Alexia to push herself between you and Jenni

“Y/n no... sit with Keira in the shade and...” she tried to keep you away from Jenni as you happily interrupted her

“Colorbook spaniard!!!” you yelled across to Mapí and waved

“Baby Bronze!!!” Mapí yelled back and also waved happily “You're high again”

You stumbled around Alexia and Jenni towards Mapí and NEARLY got to her as you were hauled back as someone grabbed you around your waist

“No Bebita... we don't interact with Mapí right now” Ona said softly

“But she...” you started to pout but Ona ignored you successfully

“No no... no buts... come on.. back to your sister you go” the blonde spaniard said firmly

“You're mean” you pouted towards your sisters girlfriend

“And you're high... so nothing new on both sides” Ona replied dry as she pushed you forward her arms still secured around your waist while you started to wriggle around trying to get rid of Ona

“No Bebita” the blonde spaniard said sternly before looking towards Lucy who had an amused smile on her face “Help please?”

Your sister grinned as she made her way over and got in front of you “Behave Devil Spawn – or I'll make sure you'll behave”

“But the colorbook spaniard wants to play... she needs super...spicion” you lulled mixing up words

“Mapí can play with Pina and Patri... you can play with Keira in the shade” your sister said winking at you before pulling you away from Ona “Thanks for catching her in time Babe”

“No problem... I don't want to think about what these two would do” the blonde smiled slightly

“I'll let you drive my Cupra in the Camp Nuo parking lot if you get Jennis number in your “current state”...” Lucy lead you over to Keira whispering in your ear as she did so

“You serious?” you whispered back surprised

“Dead serious... because I REALLY want to witness that” Lucy chuckled under her breath

“Deal” you grinned and stumbled in her arms for good measure.

“Hey Kei... can you keep an eye on dopey here?” your sister said as she basically dropped you next to Keira

“What's in it for me?” the englishwoman smirked raising her brow behind her sunglasses

“What do you want?” Lucy asked as you already trying to bolt toward Mapí once again just for Keira to grab your shorts pulling you back down without even looking at you

“Nandos... for the next year... every time I'M home...” Keira smirked

“Okay... Deal...” your sister agreed quickly

“That's all I'm worth... Nandos? You could have had anything and you chose Nandos?” you exclaimed outraged

“Your sister has nothing I would want... so Nandos it is... and now be quiet I want to relax and enjoy my day off” Keira said as a matter of fact as your sister left grinning to herself

“I can go to the colorbook spaniard” you said happily knowing Alexia was watching you with hawkeyes and you have to remain “high”

“No” Keira said offhandly and closed her eyes “and don't even try it... firstly I will notice and secondly Alexia will notice too”

You huffed pouting glancing over to the blonde spaniard who was in a conversation with Jenni but you could tell she was having an eye on you

“What's the deal with them two” you asked quietly

“Huh?” Keira asked lifting her head to see what you were talking about “Alexia and Jenni? They had an... agreement for a bit...”

“Stress relieve agreement?” you questioned

“Yes... Alexia then met Olga” your other sister said as she laid back down closing her eyes again

“If I go to Alexia... will you stop me?” you asked already forming a plan in your head to get Jenni Hermosos number

“Oh god... what do you plan now?” Keira groaned knowing the small change in your voice

“Lucy upped the stakes” you grinned

“You will NOT hit on Alexia... I don't care what Lucy promised you, you will not embarrass you and in hindsight me since I'm responsible for you” the englishwoman said firmly

“No no no... no hitting on the scary woman... who's not so scary once you get to know her” you said quickly shutting down any concerns Keira might have

“Okay... if you go STRAIGHT to Alexia okay... I know you're not really high but I also know you AND Mapí... the two of you mean trouble” Keira pointed her finger threating at you

“I promise... and you know I keep my promises with you” you nodded your head

“Before you go... where's your sister?” the blonde asked

“Currently at the booth over there with Ona... drinking something red-ish...” you said after you spotted your sister

“You coming home with me tonight” Keira mused a smirk playing around her lips

“I am?” you asked confused

“Yes... pretty sure she's drinking Sangria... so you don't WANT to be home tonight” the englishwoman grinned as you pulled a disgusted face

“Seriously??? How do you know that??” you dry heaved

“I dated your sister for years... I KNOW what wine does to her” Keira laughed heartily as you threw out an “EW”

“Yep.... I'll definitely sleep at yours tonight” you said flatly looking over to your sister again shivering as you were “blessed” with the sight of your sisters hand on Onas ass while she drank her Sangria and laughed at something one of her teammates said (you haven't met that one now)

“Who's no.3 over there?” you asked Keira interrupting her relaxing once again

“Cata... Cata Coll... our Keeper” she answered after looking up from her position again

“Didn't she receive a yellow last game... how can a keeper get a yellow?” you remembered

“She went all Karate Kid on a player outside of her box” Keira answered patiently all your questions enjoying the interest you're showing.

You haven't showed that much interest since your last injury which she understood but it also hurted not only Keira but Lucy as well when you pulled away from them and everything that involved football. So when you started to show interest now Keira grabbed the opportunity to pull you back into it and if it was just a little bit.

“Catara Kid?” you grinned

“Basically... I'll make sure the kiddies pick up on that name” Keira laughed “I don't know what you have planned but if you want to strike you should do it now... because if you interrupt Alexia once she's relaxing you're in for it...” the blonde grinned and pointed towards Alexia who was about to sit down on her towel

“See you in a bit Kei” you quickly stood up before “stumbling” away while Keira just shook her head smiling

You knew Alexia was watching you since she twitched every time you “stumbled” ready to jump up and catch you (or pick you up). You smiled and congratulated yourself internally for doing such a good job. You came to a stuttering halt in front of her staring down on her.

“What can I do for you, Cariño?” Alexia asked carefully as you swayed slightly in the sand

“You are reeeeeaaaally pretty” you said starring down at Alexia who rolled her eyes but smiled anyways

“You came all the way over here to tell me? That's very nice of you, pequeña” the blonde spaniard smiled friendly not even trying to argue with you

“No... I want to ask you something” you mumbled looking around

“Oh... okay” Alexia looked a little taken aback “What's your question, Cariño?”

“Where is the sexy spaniard... I want to ask her something” you grinned loopy

“You want to ask Jenni something? And what would that be?” the blonde raised an eyebrow expectantly

“It's not your business that I want to ask her how she's so sexy” you “spilled” part of your plan – which you did on purpose

“Ah... okay... you just need to turn around and ask her” Alexia grinned having seen Jenni standing behind you

You turned quickly losing your balance and stumbled backwards right over Alexia and fell into the sand with a squeak. Jenni chuckled lowly as she delicately stepped over a swearing Alexia crouching down next to you

“You okay, little Bronze?” she asked smiling as you let your head fall back with a groan

“Peachy” you groaned out kind of embarrassed but since you were smart you turned the situation into your favour “I hate sand... is everywhere” you mumbled

“Yeah... sand tends to do that if you fall into it” the black haired spaniard chuckled

“Is your fault... sneaking up on me's not nice” you slurred

“I'm sorry... I didn't mean to scare you” Jenni smiled

“You not scary... Lexia is scary... she yelled at me you know” you mumbled as you brushed some sand of your arms

“Did she now? That's not very nice Alexia” the dark haired grinned at the blonde

“Explain to her WHY I yelled.. and I didn't even yell at you – I yelled at María” the blonde answered rolling her eyes

“I know spanish, you know... wait...” you said acting like you have to remember it

“Don't hurt your head, Cariño... you promised to never say it again” Alexia quickly interrupted your thoughts as you yell out a victorious “HA” and turning to Jenni

“Cállate la Boca, matildo hijo de puta! That's it... that was what I learned” you smiled widely at the shocked face of the dark haired one

“Dios Mio...” the blonde groaned “You can't remember your own name but THAT you remember”

“Mapí taught you that?” Jenni asked still working through her shock

“Yes ma'am” you grinned proudly

“I can see why Alexia yelled at you... that's something very bad to say” Jenni said firmly “Don't say it again”

“Say what again?” you said acting like you already forgot what you said just a minute before

“The spanish phrase you just said” the dark haired answered confused

“Give up, Jen... she won't remember anyway... it's easier to play along... she tells me every time she sees me that I'm pretty” Alexia chuckled shrugging her shoulders

“You are pretty” you said coming closer to Alexias face “so pretty”

“See what I mean...” the blonde directed to her fellow spanish national teammate “... thank you, Cariño... it's always nice to get a compliment”

“Okay wow... WHAT did they give her” Jenni laughed loudly

“Ask Ona... she apparently got her the good stuff for a sprained wrist... where is your splint by the way Cariño?” the blonde answered Jennis question before noticing your missing splint

“Was uncomfortable... left it home” you mumbled shyly

“It doesn't help your recovery if you don't listen to the doctors Cariño” Alexia sighed

“Look who's talking” Jenni mumbled under her breath

“But it hurts... not a nice splint” you pouted sadly

“I know Cariño... but it helps you getting better faster” the blonde said sympathetically

“You know...” you started before throwing in a theatrical pause “... you are so pretty”

“Ugh...” Alexia huffed out at your short attention span as Jenni laughed again

“This is amazing...” the dark haired laughed

“You are very sexy” you smiled loopy

“Thank you little Bronze...” Jenni laughed “... but I think it's time for getting rid of the sand, hm?”

“Ugh...” now it was your time to huff “... I hate the sand... gets everywhere”

“I know... come on... I'll help you wash it off since you would probably drown in the shower” the dark haired laughed

“You sure? I can too” Alexia looked at the two of you sceptical

“It's okay... It's my fault she fell...” Jenni nodded smiling

“Yeah... it's her fault” you threw in for good measure

“Off you go then... don't leave her out of your sight for a second... she'll be gone, trust me” the blonde warned before making a shoo-motion with her hand

Jenni pulled you up into a standing position and you swayed around a little bit

“Huuuiii” you smiled as you swayed

“And you probably need some water too.... I'm pretty sure your circulation is low...” the dark haired spaniard smiled friendly as she grabbed your hip securely

You leaned against her letting her lead the way towards the public showers passing your sister on the way you held onto Jennis waist hearing Lucy choke on her Sangria as she realized who just passed her. You grinned to yourself knowing exactly how it must look to anyone as you held your other hand up behind your back flipping your sister off.

[averycutesalamander]

thoughts about public woohoo with boothill? i feel like he'd be into it sometimes

public woohoo 😭😭😭 ur so funny omg

i think he matches your vibes on it? in the sense that when you're into it, he's SUPER into it, but when you're not, he's perfectly happy without it. he definitely doesn't shy away from risk, and he especially loves taking risks when you're involved.

i kinda think he's of two minds about it. on one hand, he absolutely has a possessive streak, so making everyone know you're "his" is super appealing to him. (on that note, pull out the ol' "i'm yours" on him, and he'll go crazy. like, hands and teeth and everything all over you kinda crazy.)

on the other hand, he's... well, pretty greedy about you. there's a line in DHCS that acknowledges this pretty directly...

He's nearly overwhelmed by the suffocating urge to kiss you; to bite marks into your delicate little throat; to bend you over this counter and have his way with you, onlookers be damned.

(Hm. Maybe not that last one – he’s far too greedy, far too possessive, to expose you to a room full of strangers. He’d much rather keep you all to himself; his to covet, his to adore, his to break.)

in regards to a scenario? well...

(read on ao3 if you'd prefer)

Boothill has decided that he absolutely hates this new contact.

First of all, she's cagey as fuck, and she constantly dances around the point. Secondly, she only ever communicates in the most obtuse code he's ever seen. Thirdly, she absolutely insists that, for his next lead, he has to find her at a masquerade to receive the information in person.

She's lucky that her intel is so damn valuable, or he'd have wrung her neck a hundred times over by now - and unloaded his revolver into her a few times for good measure.

He rants and raves to you for quite some time, venting his frustration as he swears up and down that he's never turning to her again once this whole affair is done. By the time he runs out of steam, he's slumped against your shoulder with his arms wrapped around you, utterly drained. You pet his hair soothingly, letting him cool off before quietly asking, "Is there anything I can do to help, honeybee?"

He's quiet for a long moment, before finally lifting his head to look at you, a peculiar look in his eye. "Well..." he's begins hesitantly, "would ya put me in an early grave if I asked ya to come with me, sweetpea?"

You laugh, shaking your head in open amusement. "I suppose I can spare you, just this once." You press a quick kiss to his forehead, your smile turning a bit mischievous. "Get me a dress and treat me to ice cream after, and I'll do whatever the hell you want."

The very next day, he brings you to a shop - pleasantly small with an obscenely well-crafted selection. You balk when you walk inside, immediately stunned by the space, because this isn't just for rich people, this is for rich people. The moment you turn to him to argue that this is way too nice, you find that he's already grinning and shaking his head.

"I don't give a hoot what ya say," he drawls, openly delighted. "What the fork else am I gonna burn all this IPC cash on, huh? Let me treat ya, sunshine."

And so, you end up getting the most extravagant article of clothing you've ever touched in your life, guided by an incredibly sweet attendant that doesn't even blink at your cluelessness. Boothill lingers in the dressing room, whistling obnoxiously every time you step out in a new dress; he practically faints (whether or not it's a joke is up for debate) when you walk out in a comfortably tight underbust corset, his eyes trailing lasciviously from the curve of your waist to the swell of your chest. (He thanks every higher power he can think of that his cock is kept in an internal compartment, because lord fucking knows he'd be so horny that he'd risk busting his jeans open.)

Once you settle on a dress and have it sent off to be tailored to your size, you keep him company while another attendant takes all of his measurements for a suit, fitting him into one to test how well the jacket hugs his waist. He grouches about how this doesn't fit his style at all, but shuts right up when he sees the look on your face. (Maybe wearing a suit won't be so bad if you keep staring at him like you want to eat him alive.)

In the following days, the date of the masquerade looms over you - and all the while, Boothill eyes you with a look you can't quite decipher.

Finally, it all comes to a head the day after you pick up your newly tailored outfits.

His eyes are dark when he holds up a remote-controlled vibrator - one that syncs to his neurochip, which lets him control it with a simple thought; there's an app as well, which would let you shut it off on your own if you ever got too overwhelmed. He tilts his head in question, and the gesture might've seemed innocent if not for the untamable hunger in his eyes.

If you decline, that's the end of it, and the entire masquerade passes without too much incident. Once business is done, you dance and chat, berating the event's selection of alcohol and quietly mocking the outfit choices of every aristocrat you see. If you accept, however...

The night of the masquerade arrives on your doorstep, heralded by the anticipation bubbling in your gut. The atmosphere is so taut that you both get ready in silence, but his hungry eyes tell you everything you need to know. He helps you into your dress, does your hair for you (he's shockingly good at it), and, if you'd like, paints your nails with his unfathomably steady hands. You help him with his tie, braid his hair neatly, and straighten out the relatively simple black, silver, and red mask on his face. And all the while, he stares at you like a wolf sizing up its prey - watching, prowling, waiting for the time to strike.

Finally, the time to leave arrives. You stare at each other for a long, tense moment before he finally rasps, "Back against the wall, doll. Spread your legs and lift your skirt for me, won't ya?"

Oh, you're already done for, and the night has only just begun.

He gets down on his knees in front of you, easing down your underwear with cold fingers. He's ready to prep you, but to his delight, you're already getting wet. He looks up at you with piercing eyes, grinning wickedly. "Filthy girl," he scolds without heat. "I haven't even touched ya, n' you're already soakin' your panties?"

You whimper when he grazes your folds with his fingers, openly admiring the way your slit trembles. "Can you blame me? You've been looking at me like you were gonna fuck me before we even left."

He laughs, dark and gritty. "Oh, you're barkin' up the wrong tree, cutie." Then, he lifts the toy, pressing it right against your entrance. "I'm gonna make you work for it first."

Without further preamble, he slowly, agonizingly eases it inside, and when it's fully seated, you have one end nestled right against your g-spot, and the other pressed tauntingly against your clit. For a moment, you think that's going to be the end of it for now - but then he eases it out ever-so-slightly, giving him just enough room to lap hungrily at your clit. You gasp and shake on your feet, clenching one hand in his hair so tight that he growls into your cunt. You throw your head back against the wall and moan all pretty for him, helpless as he circles your bud with his tongue.

He holds you there, just like that, subtly thrusting the toy against your g-spot, winding you tighter and tighter, and just when your breath hitches, just when your thighs start to tremble, just when you're about to tip over the edge-

He pulls away, sending you crashing back down to earth.

You whine in anguish as he settles the toy back inside you, sliding your panties back on like he'd never been there at all. He kisses your thigh tenderly in what might've seemed like sympathy if not for the devilish glint in his eye.

"Sorry, honey," he hums, not sorry at all, standing back up and licking your come from his lips. "Gonna have to wait."

(Oh, if only you knew.)

The ride over to the event is quiet and tense, but rather peaceful - until he starts testing out the vibrator, that is. He holds you in his lap and wraps his unrelenting arms around you, which might've looked sweet to the chauffeur, but you know better. You keep your jaw clenched tightly, trying to get yourself into the practice of stifling all of your noises and reactions - but he seems to take that as a challenge, because he hikes the intensity higher and higher until you're trembling like a leaf against him, your fingers wound in his suit jacket. And just when it nearly overwhelms you, just when you think you might reach your peak, he lowers it back down to a subtle hum.

And then you arrive to the masquerade, and the true depth of what you've signed yourself up for hits you full force.

He lingers with you for a time, keeping the vibrator rather low, even turning it off on occasion. He grants you the small mercy of adjusting to the crowd in relative peace, but you're already so wound up that it doesn't do that much good. Eventually, he kisses you sweetly on the lips and murmurs, "Gotta go take care of some business, sweetpea. You gonna be alright?"

It's a genuine question, so you answer genuinely. "As long as you don't torture me the whole time you're gone."

When he smiles, you feel like you've just stepped into a trap. "Of course, baby. I'll be back in a jiffy."

He's nice enough to let you get situated in a quiet corner with a drink before he starts fucking with you. To his credit, he sticks to his word...

But only to the letter, and not to the spirit.

He torments you for most of the time he's gone, but not quite all of it. For the most part, he sticks to the lower settings; you seek him out through the crowd, and he meets your gaze across the ballroom while he speaks to someone you don't recognize, his eyes glittering with promise. You thank every Aeon you can think of that no one tries to talk to you while he's gone, because he won't stop randomly spiking the intensity, higher and higher until your fingers are quivering around the stem of your glass - then he drops it right back down, leaving you stewing in a mix of grief and relief.

You completely lose track of time, your eyes going distant and hazy as you put all of your focus into keeping yourself together. He scares the hell out of you when he finally returns, looping one arm around your shoulders and leaning close to your ear, purring, "Hey there, sugar. Is somethin' wrong? You're lookin' a lil' faint."

The look you give him is positively murderous, but he just laughs right in your face. Then, with mischief in his eyes, he invites you to a dance - and how could you ever say no to a face like that?

He might find the music stale - nothing will ever beat the music from back home - but it's all worth it to watch you squirm. Just before the first song begins, he leans right next to your ear and whispers, "Count how many times ya come, and how many times I deny ya. You can do that, can't ya, princess?"

When you hesitantly nod, his smile turns lethal, sharp enough to cut both ways.

(What he doesn't tell you is that you aren't going to come at all. Only he gets to see you like that. Only he gets to feel you tremble. Only he gets to hear all of the pathetic little noises that spill from your lips.)

He edges you the entire fucking time, and he keeps you on that dance floor for as long as you can stand it. Again and again, he builds you up, then breaks you down, guiding you seamlessly every time you stumble or trip, the toy jostling against your g-spot with every step. If you ever get too quiet for his liking, he turns up the vibrator until you can't help yourself. The little noises you make are lost to the crowd and the music, but not to his enhanced hearing. Get too loud, and he turns it back down until you pull yourself together - over and over and over, until your brain feels like liquid in your skull. Before long, you're leaning into his shoulder, using his body to shield the way your jaw drops whenever he brings you to the edge again.

And every single time, you whimper that ever-increasing number in his ear, and every single time, he purrs in delight and croons, "Good girl."

He murmurs filth into your ear the whole time, his breath washing over you as he describes in ruinous detail all of the things he's going to do to you later, all of the ways he's going to break you.

Eventually, he leans close and murmurs, "How wet are you, doll?" The timbre of his voice so close has shivers skittering up your spine. "Bet you're soaked by now."

Just to fuck with you, he hikes up the intensity of the vibrations right when you open your mouth to reply. You trip over your own feet, but he sweeps you along without batting an eye, somehow making your slip-up look natural.

When he finally turns it back down and you compose yourself, you grit out, "I was soaked before we even got here, you fucking basta- oh!"

He smiles with the most unconvincing mask of innocence the world has ever seen as he raises the intensity again, your backtalk dying in your throat. Then, as he lowers it to a more reasonable level, he turns his head to press a kiss to your temple to hide his wicked grin from any onlookers. "Poor baby," he croons, so demeaning that it has your walls shivering around the toy. "You drippin' down your legs yet, sugar? Bet it's smearin' all over your thighs."

You answer him with a pretty little whimper, and he can't help but chuckle, low and husky in your ear.

"Don't worry, sweetheart. Once I'm through with you here, I'm gonna take ya somewhere nice n' quiet, and then I'll get down on my knees for ya," he rumbles. "I'll hold ya up against the wall and lick your thighs clean, 'til you're beggin' me to put my tongue in your pretty lil' hole, 'til you're beggin' me to suck on your clit."

On and on and on he goes, until you're so fucking drenched that the entirety of your inner thighs are slick with your wetness, until you're so desperate to come that you think you might fall to your knees and beg for it, audience be damned.

Just when you're about to tap out, right when you're about to cave and beg him for mercy, he sweeps you into a grand dip at the end of a song, and you're trying so hard to keep it together, and just when you think he's going to finally let you come-

The vibrator goes completely still.

When he finally pulls you up, he wraps a strong, possessive arm around your waist, guiding you off the dance floor with the poise and seriousness of a man on a mission. You're so out of it that you barely register when he sweeps you into a bathroom, but you certainly snap to attention when he wheels around and pins you flat to the door with his hands tight around your hips. The lighting casts his face so starkly in shadow that all you can see are the red pinpricks of his pupils.

Without saying a word, he cranks the vibrations to the maximum, and watches you fall apart.

You moan and whimper helplessly under his stare, and as your peak rapidly creeps up on you, you can't stop yourself from begging. You whine and beg and plead for him to let you come, completely shameless in your need.

"I've been good," you gasp, your throat closing as you race toward the edge yet again. "Please, please, please, bee. I've been good!"

He stares, utterly silent, pinning you with his unwavering gaze.

Your orgasm is so close you can fucking taste it, and your heart is pounding with anticipation, because you still don't know if he's going to let you come, if he's going to deny you again, if he's going to keep torturing you, if he's going to leave you stranded on this edge forever and ever and-

Oh- Oh, fuck, you can't take it- You can't-

You come so hard your vision goes white.

You can feel the pressure of his lips against yours, swallowing up the broken wail that escapes you, drinking it down, down, down as you spiral in the clutches of your orgasm. Your knees collapse from under you, but he supports your weight like it's nothing, keeping you pinned like a moth against the door. As you ride out the waves of your climax, your fingers wound tightly in his suit jacket, he gradually eases the vibrations lower and lower, coaxing you down; finally, you go completely boneless against him, fully trusting him to keep you upright, and he shuts off the toy entirely.

He holds you while you recover, petting your hip with his thumb, cradling you as you piece yourself back together.

"I think I just died," you mumble into his jacket, your mind still heavy with fog.

He chuckles softly, pressing his lips into your hair. "Well, I guess I'll have to revive ya," he murmurs as he pulls away, grasping you by the chin and forcing you to face him, and his voice is thick with gravel when he says, "because I'm not done yet."

You're not quite sure what expression crosses your face, but whatever it is, it makes him grin wickedly.

"How many times did I deny ya, princess?" he rumbles, as if he hadn't been counting alongside you the whole time.

You take a trembling breath, clearly needing a moment to piece your brain together. When you finally answer, your voice is as fragile as a breath of wind.

"Oh, I'm sorry, sweetheart. Didn't realize I'd done so many," he lies blatantly, smiling in a way that might've seemed apologetic if he weren't grinning like the cat that caught the canary.

Then, his hands trail slowly downward, and he kneels on the tile in front of you, gradually raising the hem of your skirt higher and higher. You instinctually take it from him with shaking fingers, hiking it up to expose yourself to him. Sure enough, you've completely soaked through your panties, and drops of your slick trail obscenely down your legs. Ever-so-slowly, he eases your panties downward, licking his lips at the sight of you.

"Lemme make it up to ya, baby," he murmurs, his eyes fixed shamelessly on your cunt. Then, he looks back up at you, his eyes dark and all-consuming. "I'll make ya come once for every time I cut ya off. Ain't I generous?"

He's going to kill you. He's going to eat the fucking soul out of you. He's going to break you apart until your mind is ground into dust.

He eases the toy out of you, and a heavy stand of your come stretches and snaps as he pulls it away. Without a moment of hesitation, he laves his tongue across it, moaning obscenely at your taste. You watch with an intoxicating mixture of awe and arousal as he cleans the vibrator end-to-end, licking up every drop until nothing remains; then, he tucks it nonchalantly into his pocket, utterly unbothered.

"Don't forget to count, doll." He grins up at you with too many teeth, leaning closer to your pussy. "And... make some noise for the folks outside, won't ya?"

@opheliaflavoredinstantnoodles @ikeagroceries @shadowstadium @theswashbucklingspy @cosmo112 @fxngtasy

[qingyuns]

song 13! 360 + sakusa kiyoomi

360, when you’re in the mirror, do you like what you see? when you’re in the mirror, you’re just looking at me —charli xcx

pairing: sakusa kiyoomi x reader, wc: 746, established relationship, fluff, very deep (song is misleading), sakusa kiyoomi contemplates the meaning of love and how it’s changed him as he stands in the mirror, boy was finding a plot for this song a challenge

part of my spotify wrapped 2024 event @serafilms

Sakusa Kiyoomi has always been a very individualistic man. He hates crowds with a passion, avoids physical contact to a fault, and exclusively keeps everything he owns to himself. He never borrows from his friends, or even his family, unless he’s out of hand sanitiser (but he’s never out of hand sanitiser), and he doesn’t like letting them borrow his things either. He doesn’t trust them to clean things as well as he does, and he overall just doesn’t really appreciate their pushing their way into his business.

Yet as he stands in the mirror, he can’t help but see evidence that suggests otherwise.

Firstly, there’s the sweatshirt he’d pulled on this morning. The same one you’d ‘borrowed’ from him last week. It has the MSBY Jackals’ logo stitched on the chest, and when he’d come over to your place a few days ago, he’d found you huddled up on the couch in it.

“Sorry, Omi,” you’d said bashfully. “I took it because it smells like you.”

Kiyoomi had found it hard to be annoyed. Even when the scent of his laundry detergent had faded when you’d given it back, and the smell of your body wash replaced it.

He can smell it as he stands, surveying himself. It’s nice.

Secondly, there’s his gym bag. He slings it over his shoulder as his eyes fall to the zipper, on which is attached a Sanrio keychain.

“Bad Batdz-Maru,” you’d called it.

Kiyoomi personally doesn’t see any resemblance, but you’d insisted that it looks just like him.

He remembers the way his cold, dead heart fluttered when you’d presented it to him, and showed him your own Sanrio keychain, attached to your favourite bag. He thinks of the way you’d beamed as he moved to attach it to his own gym bag. It hadn’t been taken off ever since.

Thirdly, there’s his hair. Sakusa Kiyoomi hates, hates when people touch his hair. It’s too intimate, and it’s frankly incredibly unhygienic. He washes it every day and lives in fear of leaning against walls, or having someone touch his head and getting outside germs all over his luscious curls. Frankly, if he didn’t care as much about his appearance, he would have shaved it all off long ago. Easier for scalp care too.

Yet, when you hold him at night, he finds his eyes fluttering closed in satisfaction as your fingers tangle into it, running them through gently as you whisper about your day, and tell him you love him. He lets you wash it for him in the shower, and doesn’t do a second wash after you’ve left, because he trusts that it’s clean enough. He trusts that you’ve been careful.

When you suggested he cut his hair a slightly different way than his usual style, he didn’t snap at you. He listened, and he felt himself bristle with pride as you gushed over it.

And then, there’s your arms, sneaking around his waist, as your chin comes to rest on his shoulder, clutching at the fabric of his sweatshirt, leaning on the opposite side of his gym bag, cheek brushing against his hair.

“You’re going to be late,” you murmur. Kiyoomi shivers at the feeling of your breath against his neck.

“You’re the one holding me hostage here,” he deadpans.

Your arms tighten around his waist. “Maybe I don’t want you to go to practice.”

He huffs in response. He glances to the side to look at the sliver of your face he can see in his peripheral vision. It’s not enough, and so he turns his gaze back to the mirror, and lets his eyes rake over the image reflected at him.

Drinking in the sight of your face, the way your arms join at his stomach, the way you nuzzle into the crook of his shoulder, he feels warm.

“What were you staring at yourself so hard for just now?” Your question breaks his trance.

“Just thinking.” His answer is short, blunt and entirely vague all at once, and it’s so incredibly Sakusa. You hum.

“You should go to practice now. Atsumu will never let you live it down if you’re late even once.”

Kiyoomi nods. He watches in the mirror as your grip on him loosens, and you lean back.

“I love you,” he says. It’s probably the closest he can get to the phenomenon of blurting something out.

You smile at him. “I know. I love you too.”

Sakusa Kiyoomi feels something in his chest swell, and thinks he finally understands what love is.

[shatcey]

Robin doesn't know the ultimate evil hidden in the dark (William)

This is one of the rare cases when the story from his POV. I like such events the most. It's nice to finally hear his thoughts. But personally, I was most interested in William. Because outside he is always collected and, it would seem, just lets Kate do what she wants. What's going on in this pretty head of his remains a big mystery. So I was rewarded twice. Firstly, I heard his thoughts, and secondly, I realized the scale of his emotions. He really is a man of contradictions.

William and Kate were supposed to attend to the party, but at the last moment a task appeared. But Will insisted that Kate go without him.

Her wishes are the most important thing… He's so sweet.

Willy remembers his recent conversation with Vivi. Children began to disappear from orphanages, and no one has seen them since.

Earlier, this man was seen trying to make contact with golden butterfly. So now, most likely, he decided to create a new organization with the same goals.

Do that, honey! You're doing it so splendidly.

Willy is in his room reading the report on the latest investigation. He smiles happily, realizing that this is a real evil

Sometimes I think you live for such moments. "Finally, there is a person I can judge" (malicious laughter). I know it's a silly thought.

But the man in question has apparently gone missing. Willy considered the options of how he could leave the country, and decided that, most likely, he would not be able to do so yet. Ethan came in and handed him the guest list of the party Kate had gone to. And, of course, there was the guy Willy was looking for.

He remembered how happy she was to go to that party, and that he didn't want to spoil her fun. But…

At a party

Willy looks down at the crowd and immediately finds Kate among them.

You most definitely did. He-he

She seemed to have fun talking to a lot of people. At some point she pushed back her hair, and all the people around her suddenly froze. Willy couldn't help but laugh.

He specially put them on as an "insect repellent". Cute…

Kate doesn't realize this and doesn't understand why people react this way. Even the surprised expression on her face seems cute to Willy… He seems to find everything about her cute.

Ethan walked over to William.

So Willy went to take care of the count. But on the way, he kept thinking about Kate… How free and happy she looked, how he enjoyed watching her when he wasn't around…

He entered the room. The count, who was hiding there, instantly turned pale and took a step back. But… you're already dead, mister.

Yes, Father. (*Thud*) I haven't confessed since… Oh my god.. I've never confessed. My sin is grave indeed...

And since it was an order, the count told everything. Literally the same thing that Willy read in the report. William ordered the names of the buyers, and the man answered this question as well. Finally… Willy asked why he came here. The first part was obvious… for escape, but the second one…

Oh, now you've missed the only chance to die quickly… I don't feel sorry for you at all, mister. I'm such a villain…

William gave him a knife and ordered him to kill himself as slowly as possible. The man began to beg for forgiveness.

I… I have goosebumps. He's so sexy when he's angry…

But even after the man died, the irritation didn't go away. William walked over to the piano and started playing. I don't quite understand what exactly. For me, the title evoked a completely different vibe than what I have heard, so I leave it to your imagination.

Willy thinks she probably won't be able to hear him play because of the big noise around, but he still wants her to "fly up" to him… Suddenly, footsteps approach.

Bitter ending

Ethan came in. William felt betrayed and stopped playing. It turned out that the man who helped this count was arrested for another reason. So they left him be. Ethan happily added that Kate had seemingly heard him playing and was now running here.

Not disappointed anymore?

William noticed that there was no trace of his recent irritation.

He thinks that this is probably what is called love…

They leave before Kate finds them.

After Willy reported to Vivi, he stayed in his room and waited for Kate to return. She ran up and hugged him, asking if he was okay. She was told what he had been at the mission while she was away. He said he was fine and asked if she was having fun. She told him about the strange actions of the people she was talking to. He gave her a hand mirror.

Kate was embarrassed, but admitted that she felt happy. All the time at the party, she wanted him to be with her. She said she couldn't imagine her life without him anymore. And she believes that it is only her privilege to be a witness to his evil deeds and record them. Willy thinks they've both changed.

Yeah… Okay… Do your worst… Fill it to the brim…

Premium ending

Kate came in. Willy thinks that this is very similar to the situation of that night (prologue).

But now she wasn't scared. Willy thinks she has become very strong. He offers to change the place. They went into the hall. Kate said she would like to know what happened.

She asked why he hadn't told her about it. And he replied that it was because she was looking forward to this party, and he didn't want to interfere. But he doesn't like being in the same place and not seeing each other. That's why he "called her over" by playing the piano. And she, as usual, fell for the bait.

She tells him that she is his personal fairy tale keeper, his knight and lover, and she wants to be by his side while he condemns evil. And she doesn't like that he left her behind. He praised her for growing up, becoming free and greedy, and invited her to go dancing. She happily agrees. During the dance…

Really? That's so sweet…

She tells him about people's strange reactions to her. And William explains...

She is embarrassed again, but feels very happy. Willy thinks it's probably weird that he left marks on her to show that she belongs to him. He suggested that when they returned home, she would do the same to him.

At first, Kate was surprised and speechless. But then she pointed out that Will's formal clothes covered most of his body. Will said he didn't mind any place she could think of…

He said that… Awww…

Epilogue

This story is written from Kate's POV. This is a continuation of the premium ending.

As soon as they return to her room, Willy sits her down on a chair. Pointing to the typewriter, he asks if she should write about his evil deeds first. She agrees and starts writing, but Willy distracts her by kissing her neck. So… they pretty quickly went to the bed. But first…

She considered her options…..

What? Have you seen the size of his earring? Where exactly did she leave the mark? Or… how did she managed not sucked the earring as well? Or she did? Willy, how are you? Your ear is not bleeding? And the most important thing… my ears are always red in winter, so… this is an unpleasant reminder.

William did the same with her ear. Hopefully she doesn't have earrings… Hooray, now they're matching!

Wouldn't it be better and easier to just give her a second earring? Vivi mentioned that you only wear one. So… If you give her the other one, you will match. And that says a lot. Anyway. Continue.

He took her left hand and sucked on her ring finger. Is it even possible? The skin on the fingers is not so delicate as to leave a mark. I think...

I'm utterly confused. We already had a wedding event. They were supposed to have rings… no?

Kate said she was greedy, she wanted both, a mark and a ring. So even when he gives her a ring, he has to keep leaving marks.

He asked her if it was his fault that she had become so greedy. Kate said that was the case, and he had to take responsibility. So he did.

Kate thinks she's been attracted to his eyes since they first met. At first she was afraid of them, but now… She likes to be the only one reflected in those crimson eyes.

This is the first story in which I really tried to make sense of the original text. That's why it took me so long. Actually it is written quite poetically, but I still change the wording in the way that, in my opinion, sounds more correct. But there is one thing that I still don't understand. Some lines have the upper line with one word. I think it means "eye". And I have no idea how to combine them. For example, this is the last line in the epilogue.

And about this story. Willy is obsessed with Kate. I mean, we always knew she was obsessed with him. And it seems to be mutual. I'm happy about it. This is proof of how well compatible they are. And how much this guy has saved up for her. Really. He literally denied his feelings and desires all his life (I wasn't talking about the other guy, I swear. I literally just now realized this similarity) and now… it all fell on her. Lucky girl.

He likes absolutely everything about her. He's so happy that he laughs all the time… It seems like he can't contain so many emotions, and they spill out. He was totally possessed with her and was surprised himself that he left traces on her to show the whole world that she belonged to him. And this is despite his sincere belief that everyone should be free and he shouldn't bind her… but… he still wants that… A contradiction… again. I like that about him. It makes him more real.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

🔝 Start page 🔝

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[once-upon-an-imagine]

Lover - Sirius Black

A/N: ahh! well here it is, a very long one-shot. I'm not sure how, this started off kind of sweet, then it got angsty and then it got funny but I still hope you like it!

Request - Anonymous asked: Hey love! Hope you're doing okay! I wanna start off by saying I love all of your Sirius Black fics so much! They're so fun to read and always make me happy! Secondly I love the whole Potter!reader thing cause I absolutely love James and have always wanted a brother like him. Idk if you're taking requests but if you are I was wondering if you'd do a Sirius x reader where the reader is a Hufflepuff and is the opposite of Sirius and he's like absolutely whipped but the reader is James' little sister ( a year younger maybe cause I love age gaps lol) so yeah sirius is like shitting scared cause he thinks James would hate him forever and all angsty but then James is like dude I knew since like the day I introduced you guys and all happy ending lol. Sorry if it's too detailed. I completely understand if you don't wanna write it tho. Have a nice day!

Warnings: mentions of Sirius' family situation, like I said it got a bit too angsty for a moment there but I think that's it let me know if I missed anything though!

Disclaimer: I don’t own Harry Potter :D gif isn’t mine :)  

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

Lover

My heart's been borrowed and yours has been blue All's well that ends well to end up with you Swear to be overdramatic and true to my lover

You kept walking back and forth in your room. You couldn't sleep. You hadn't been able to sleep earlier tonight, but now it was even worse. When you walked into the kitchen to make yourself a cup of tea you did not expect to find Sirius Black, barely being able to stand as he held on to the kitchen counter. You felt your entire body shaking when you noticed the bruises and blood all over him. But, when he looked at you, your heart broke into a million pieces, that's when you felt like you were going to be sick. He was crying and he looked haunted. You had never seen Sirius like this. He tried to say your name before he collapsed so you quickly walked over to him to hold him up and you yelled for your brother. It wasn't even five minutes before James came running downstairs with your parents following him. And now, here you were, waiting for James to come tell you what happened. Sirius wasn't talking, so if there was a remote possibility that he would, it would be with James. And your parents were helping him so, at some point, you were asked to leave. But James knew you wouldn't go to sleep until you knew Sirius was okay.

"Hey, bug" you turned around when James opened your door.

"Hi" you said, finally sitting on the bench by your window and James joined you. "H-how is he?" you asked nervously. You could tell James had been crying as well.

"He's gonna be okay" he assured you. "I knew you wouldn't go to sleep until I told you that" he smiled. "He's gonna be staying with us now" he explained.

"Good" you nodded. "I'm glad he doesn't have to go back there" you said. You knew about Sirius' home situation. He had talked to you about it a few times, but you had never imagined it was this bad.

"Me too" James smiled at you.

"How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine, bug" he frowned.

"You know it's okay if you're not, right?" you insisted.

"It's just... hard seeing him like this" he admitted, shedding a few tears. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and kissed his cheek.

"You're a good brother, Jamie" you said as you felt him hug you back. "That's why he came here" you told him.

"Thanks, bug" he said, kissing the side of your head. You were about to pull away but you felt James arms tightening a little and you knew he needed more time.

"You should try to get some sleep" you told him.

"You too" he said, getting up. When he was at the door, he looked back at you with a weary smile. "I love you, bug."

"I love you too, Jamie" you smiled before he left, closing the door behind you.

You sighed, thinking that it was best if you also got some sleep since it was almost three in the morning, but you heard something in the room next to you. You knew Sirius would most likely not be able to sleep. So, you went downstairs again to make some tea. But not for you. You knew that Sirius might not want to talk right now, especially with you. So, you just wanted to do something nice and feel a little helpful. You walked quietly to his room and saw that the light was still on, so you were not waking him up. You knocked lightly but got no response, so you opened the room slowly. It was empty, and the bathroom door was closed. You didn't want to cross any lines so you placed the tea on his nightstand and left.

And that's how it started. You did the same thing the following night. This time, when you knocked on his door, Sirius opened it and smiled sweetly at you. He had a feeling it was you the previous night. He was still very quiet, which was unusual for him, but you still offered him the tea.

"I just... thought it might help you sleep" you smiled nervously.

"Thanks, Bambi" he said, grabbing it from you, making you chuckle a little. He had always called you that and, it annoyed you at first, but now you kind of liked it.

"Good night, Siri" you said, walking over to the next door.

"Night, love" he whispered to himself going inside his room.

This kept happening for the following weeks. You slowly saw Sirius coming back to his old self. Your mum had asked you to help redecorate his room so he would feel more at home and you noticed his eyes watering a little when your mum showed it to him. James told him that Remus and Peter would be arriving in a few weeks and that also seemed to lift his spirits up. But if Sirius was being honest with himself, his favorite part of living at the Potters was whenever you brought him tea. It was a small act of kindness on your part but it meant the world to him. He knew you sometimes had trouble sleeping and you were worried that he was experiencing that too, and that warmed his heart. Which is why, one night he opened the door before you could even knock. He stood there on the other side and smiled sweetly at you.

"Oh- s-sorry, I was um-"

"It's okay, love" he chuckled. "How come you never bring one for yourself?" he asked, confused as he grabbed the tea from you.

"Oh" you said, a little taken aback. "I usually drink mine downstairs" you explained.

"Well, would you maybe like to have your tea with me tomorrow?" he smiled sweetly at you.

"Really?" you asked, feeling a little nervous. "I m-mean, yeah, sure, I'd love that" you nodded.

"Cool, see you tomorrow, Bambi" he said, kissing your cheek before you both said good night.

And you did. Every night for the rest of the summer, after James went to sleep, and the rest of the Marauders, once they arrived, you brought tea for Sirius and the two of you spent hours talking. Little by little, you saw him going back to his old self. He smiled more. He laughed more. He didn't seem jumpy or gloomy anymore. One night, you fell asleep and he didn't have it in him to bring you to your room. He liked your company and he felt a lot better when you were around, so he didn't. But a few hours later, you were woken up by his screaming. It broke your heart to see him so terrified by his nightmares, but it got Sirius to open up to you. He felt more comfortable around you with each passing week, until one night, he finally kissed you.

You would have been lying if you said you didn't have a slight crush on Sirius Black. Because he was Sirius Black. Everyone had a crush on him and you were no exception. And in the weeks since he had moved in, you got to know him even more and you felt your crush growing. So, when he kissed you, you were over the moon. That's how it started. This whole thing between the two of you. You both decided to keep it secret for a while. And you couldn't deny that it was even exciting at first. The stolen glances between you, the way Sirius would always sit next to you at meals and hold your hand under the table. Brief moments where he would excuse himself from the other Marauders just to go to your room to steal a quick kiss from you.

But now, that you were back at Hogwarts, being in different years and houses, it made it increasingly difficult to keep your relationship a secret. You knew Sirius was anxious about James' reaction to your relationship, but you didn't think it would be such a big deal, as to practically have your relationship back to before you two got together. Making moments like this extremely rare.

"Merlin, I've missed you" Sirius smiled as the two of you laid on his bed, kissing, with music in the background.

"I've missed you too" you smiled before he pulled you in for another kiss. "It's been such a long week" you complained.

"It's only Tuesday" he laughed.

"I know" you pouted and he kissed you once more. "But we barely got to see each other this past weekend and classes have been crazy and I just-"

Sirius interrupted you with another kiss. "I know, love" he said, placing his hand on your cheek. "But it's a Hogsmeade weekend" he smiled. "Maybe we can go?"

"R-really?" you asked, feeling excited. Because of all the sneaking around, you two didn't even have a first date.

"Yeah, I think we're all gonna go, so you can come with us" he suggested, making your smile drop.

"Oh- um, y-yeah, sure" you smiled again, but, of course, Sirius noticed it was different.

"What?" he frowned, sitting up.

"N-nothing" you tried to assure him.

"Love, you're a terrible liar" he insisted. "I know when something's bothering you" he said pulling you with him.

"Nothing, I just..." you sighed. The two of you never really established what this was and you didn't want to make it a bigger deal than it was. "I'm not sure if I have a Potions exam on Monday" you covered up.

"Oh" he replied before smiling again. "Well, in that case" he said, leaning in for another kiss. "Maybe I can stay back and help you study" he smirked, kissing you again.

"You don't have to do that" you chuckled.

"Oh, I wouldn't mind, sweetheart" he said as his kisses started making his way down your neck. "I wouldn't mind at all" he said between kisses and making your smile appear again.

It was short-lived, however, because the two of you heard the door opening and Sirius quickly pushed you off him, making you fall off his bed.

"Bloody hell!"

"Sirius!" you complained when you hit your head with his nightstand.

"Moony! What the fuck!" Sirius said, looking at his friend standing at the entrance of his dorm.

"What? Just be glad it was me and not Prongs" he rolled his eyes, closing the door and tossing his bag on his bed.

"I'm so sorry, love" he said, getting up to help you. "Are you okay-?"

"No, of course I'm not okay" you glared at him. "You pushed me and I hit my head!"

"I'm sorry, love. I thought it was Prongs-"

"What difference does that make, Sirius" you asked, grabbing your shirt and putting it back on. "We're both half-naked, in your bed, do you honestly think James would have thought nothing was going on? I know he's daft but give him some credit!"

"I panicked, okay! Moony said he would be out until dinner" he said, glaring at Remus.

"It is almost dinner" he defended himself. "And this wouldn't have happened if you just told Prongs already. What is he gonna do? Kill you?"

"Moony, could you please get out?" Sirius glared at his friend again making Remus sigh in frustration.

"Fine, I'll leave-"

"No, don't worry, Remus. I'll leave" you said as you finished fixing yourself up.

"What? Why are you leaving?" Sirius said, pulling you to him.

"I don't know, Sirius, maybe because I don't want to stay here until my brother comes in and you push me again so I hit my head!"

"That was an accident! I just-"

"I know. You don't want James to know about us" you rolled your eyes. "What's the big deal? Remus knows!" you said, pointing at him.

"Remus is not your brother. Trust me, love. I will tell him, I promise I just... need more time" he begged, making you sigh in defeat.

"Fine" you said, grabbing your bag. "I'm still gonna go" you said, quietly.

"Love-"

"No, it's fine" you said with a weary smile. "If it's almost dinner time, that means Jamie's practice is over" you said. "I'll see you both later" you said, leaving and closing the door behind you before Sirius could stop you again.

"I fucked up, didn't I?" Sirius asked out loud.

"Oh, good. You didn't neet me to tell you" Remus smirked a little.

"Moony, I'm not joking-!"

"Neither am I, Pads" Remus said as Sirius put his shirt back on. "You're gonna fuck things up if you keep doing this. And the longer you wait-"

"I know, the worst it will be with Prongs" Sirius sighed frustrated.

"Prongs? You're more worried about what James will say than being disrespectful to your girlfriend?"

"Whoa, that's a big word, Moony" he chuckled nervously. "Bambi's not my-" he stopped as Remus glared at him. "I mean we haven't really-" he sighed. "Ugh, I'm fucking this up, aren't I?" he said, throwing himself on his bed.

"You know, sometimes you're more perceptive than I give you credit for" Remus replied.

"Moony!" Sirius complained, sitting up. "It's not funny! I don't know what to do!"

"Why are you so afraid of telling James about the two of you?"

"Are you joking? You know I don't have the best reputation about dating and if he finds out that I'm dating his little sister he's going to kill me!"

"I honestly don't think he would" Remus tried to reason to him. "I mean, we've all seen how much you've changed this past year" he continued. "And James hasn't seen it but I've seen the way the two of you are together. It's different" he explained. "But you're going to fuck it all up if you keep making her feel this way" he said.

"What way?"

"As if you don't want to be seen with her. As if your relationship isn't serious. And as if you care more about what James says than hurting her feelings" he indicated.

Sirius opened his mouth to say something but nothing came out so he threw himself back on his bed. Maybe Remus was right. Maybe he needed to get this over with and just tell James before it was too late.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

The next day, you were coming out of your Charms class and you were still in a foul mood. You loved Sirius, you knew that much. And whenever you were with him, you felt like he might love you too. But all of this hiding and sneaking around made your insecurities get the best of you and wonder if he was as Sirius about this as you were. You understood that he was nervous about telling James, but you kept insisting nothing would happen so, maybe it wasn't just that.

Your thoughts were shut down when you noticed a small crumpled parchment in your bag while you were putting your book away. You opened it and saw one of Sirius' doodles and it made you smile. He did this from time to time. He left little notes hidden in your books and your bag. This one was a small doodle of him holding up a flower and apologizing for being an idiot, asking you to meet him after lunch so the two of you could talk.

"Hey, bug!" you heard your brother walking your way and you put your small doodle back in your bag.

"Hi, Jamie" you smiled at your big brother.

"You going to lunch?"

"Yeah" you replied before you heard your name being called.

"Hey" you turned around to see your housemate and classmate speeding your way. "Oh, hi, James" she smiled. "It's the Potters" she greeted.

"Hi Emmeline" you smiled back at your friend.

"Hey" she smiled. "I won't keep you long, I just wanted to ask you something" she told you. "Oh, and now that your brother's here I guess I can ask him too" she told you.

"Sure, Em, what do you need?" you asked your friend.

"You're really close with Sirius Black, aren't you?" she asked, making your heart drop for a moment. You could tell where this was going.

"She's not as close to him as I am" James smirked. "Why the interest, love?"

"Well, I was just... wondering if... he's single?" she asked smiling as you felt your entire heart shatter. What were you supposed to say now?

"Yes, of course, he is" James answered before you could say something.

"Really? I wasn't sure because you seem really close to him and I didn't want to cross any lines if you two were dating or anything-" she said looking at you. But, again, your brother intervened.

"With her?" he laughed a little too loud to your liking. "Sirius dating my sister? You're joking right, they're just friends" he insisted.

"Oh, that's a relief" she sighed while you remained with your mouth open but nothing was coming out. "So, could you maybe... find out for me if he might be interested?"

"I- uh-" you tried to make sense of this whole thing. "Y-you want me to f-find out if Sirius likes you?"

"Yeah" she chuckled. "We've sort of been flirting back and forth, and since it's a Hogsmeade weekend, I though-"

"Y-you've been flirting back and forth" you said, letting out a bitter chuckle and feeling as if someone was stabbing your heart repeatedly. "With Sirius-?"

"Well, that's a grand idea, Emmeline" James kept interrupting. "Maybe we can have a double date" he suggested.

"What's on your mind, Potter?"

"Well, I happen to know you do some of your prefect rounds with Lily" he smirked. "Put in a good word for me and I put in a good word for you?"

"Really?" Emmeline asked, excitedly.

"Really" James nodded.

"Alright, Potter. You've got yourself a deal" she smiled. "But only if you agree to find out if I have a chance first" she said, turning back to you.

"I um-" you stuttered. "S-so, you want me to find out if Sirius likes you-?"

"Yes, please, will you? Is not too much trouble, is it?" she asked.

"Uh-"

"Of course, not, love!" James waved you off. "We'll definitely have the information in a few hours. I mean, we're just on our way to have lunch with Sirius, right bug?" he said, playfully hitting your stomach with his arm.

"R-right" you said trying your best not to start crying. Were you really just about to set your boyfriend up on a date just to avoid telling your brother?

"Brilliant! Thank you so much! I have my Prefect rounds tonight with Lily so, that works" she told James.

"Pleasure doing business with you, Em" James said as she nodded her head to him.

"Thanks, love" she told you. "I'll see you both later!" she said, walking away from you.

"Oh, Merlin! Bug, did you hear that?"

"What just happened?" you muttered to yourself.

"I'll tell you what just happened. I just got a date with Lily!" he said, excitedly, pulling you with him to the Great Hall.

"I didn't hear that" you said, frowning at him.

"Come on, let's go!" he said, running towards his usual spot. He found Remus and Peter already sitting there but Sirius was nowhere to be seen. "Great! You're both here! Where's Padfoot?"

"He said he'll be right here" Peter said as James pulled you to sit and he took the seat next to you.

"Brilliant!" he said as he started putting food on his plate and yours.

"Are you okay?" Remus asked you.

"She's fine. She's just hungry" James said, placing a massive mountain of potatoes on your plate.

"No, I think I have to go-"

"Nonsense!"

"Hey" Sirius said, appearing at the table and greeting all of you. "Bambi, I didn't know you would join us today" he said, sitting next to Remus, in front of you. "What are you all talking about?"

"Not much" James said, acting casually. "Just talking about next weekend" he said smiling. "Hogsmeade weekend" he continued. "Do you have any plans?"

"Uh, no, n-not really" Sirius answered, looking at you without meaning to.

"Wonderful" James said with a smirk. "I have a proposition for you" he told him.

"What?"

"Well, I was thinking-"

"Shocker" Remus heard you mutter under your breath and your brother quickly glared at you.

"What do you think about going on a double date?"

"Are you asking me out, Prongs? Because I've got to be honest with you, you're not really my type" Sirius asked him making the other two Marauders laugh.

James rolled his eyes and glared at his friends. "No, I just happened to run into Emmeline, you know her right?" he said.

"Um... sure?" Sirius said a bit confused. He looked at you to see if you could maybe provide some sort of explanation, but your eyes were glued to the potatoes on your plate. You didn't dare to look up at him.

"Well, you see, my sweet Padfoot, it looks like our dear Emmeline has a bit of a crush on you" he said happily.

You lifted her look just to see Sirius' reaction who looked back at you, feeling extremely guilty.

"N-no, she doesn't" he said awkwardly.

"Yes, she does! Isn't this grand?"

"G-grand? W-why would that be grand?" Sirius chuckled, nervously.

"Well because she just told us that she wants to go to Hogsmeade with you this weekend and that she would ask Lily so we could go on a double date" James said with a smirk.

"Us? What do you mean 'us'?"

"She just told us before coming over here" he explained, making Sirius' heart stop. "She wanted us to find out if you liked her back" he shrugged.

Sirius instantly looked at you. He knew you were upset. And you probably had every right to. This was it. He should just come out and say it. But he fucked up again. He was a coward.

"She told you that?"

You slowly turned to look up from your food when you felt the four boys looking at you. James still had his stupid smirk on his face, Peter was just curiously waiting for an answer, Sirius was looking at you as if he was going to cry, and Remus was looking at you almost... sorry?

"Um" you said nervously. "She might-have um, m-mentioned something" you said before looking back down.

"Mentioned something? She said you two have been flirting back and forth for weeks" James said excitedly. "So, what do you say? Why don't you ask her out and then the four of us could go on a double date?"

You felt your heart beating faster each second and feared it might explode. Not only would Sirius not take you out on a date this Saturday, but he might even go on a date with someone else. All to avoid telling your brother about the two of you.

"Uh, I don't think so, Prongs-"

"Come on, Pads, is just one date" James kept on pushing.

Remus turned to look at you, who didn't dare look up from your plate. He noticed the tears in your eyes and he turned to glare at Sirius, kicking him under the table.

"I don't really think Padfoot's interested, Prongs" he said, widening his eyes at Sirius. He couldn't believe he was so afraid of James as to even hurt your feelings in the process.

"Of course he is, he's interested in any girl" James laughed. "Well, almost, right bug?" he said, elbowing you playfully on your stomach.

"R-right" you muttered sadly.

You suddenly felt sick to your stomach and you decided you couldn't be here anymore, so you stood up.

"Hey, where are you going, bug?" your brother asked confused.

"Away from you" you answered, grabbing your stuff.

"But you haven't even touched your food" James said, worriedly, looking at the still full plate next to him.

"Well, maybe I'm not hungry anymore" you said grumpily, before walking away from them.

"What's going on with her?" James asked concerned, looking at his three friends.

"I don't know" Sirius quickly replied. "W-why would we know?"

"Yeah, why would we know?" Remus asked, glaring at Sirius.

"It's probably her time of the month" James said shrugging his shoulders. "Honestly is easier to deal with your time of the month, Moony, no offense" he said looking at Remus. "So, what do you say?"

"About what?" Sirius asked, confused.

"The double date!" James said frustrated.

"Uh, I um-" Sirius said awkwardly. "I don't think so, mate. I'm not really interested in Emmeline like that" he said getting up as well. "Um, I'm gonna go see if Bambi's okay" he said, walking out of the Great Hall before any of them could stop him.

"What do you think is going on with him?" James asked confused. "And why is he checking on my sister?"

"Beats me" Remus said casually. He wouldn't be the one to tell his best friend that their other best friend was in a secret relationship with his sister.

Sirius ran after you as quickly as he could. He quickly made his way to the Library, knowing you went there when you didn't want your brother to bother you and he walked over to the last aisle. He saw you sitting there with your knees pulled to your chest as tears fell down your face. It felt as if someone grabbed a hammer and broke his heart into millions of pieces.

"Love" he said, kneeling next to you. You quickly tried to wipe away the tears falling down your cheeks but new ones just came.

"W-what are you doing here?"

"Sweetheart" he said, pulling you towards him. "You know I don't want to go out with Emmeline, right?" he said, as you tried to breathe normally.

"I g-guess" you sighed.

"Look at me" he said, gently lifting your chin with his finger and he then wiped your tears softly with his thumb. "I don't want to go out with anyone who's not you" he said genuinely.

"Sirius..." you said, pushing yourself away from him.

"And I swear we have not been flirting back and forth! I wouldn't do that-!"

"Sirius" you said again, making him pay attention to you. "It's fine" you said, with your voice breaking a little.

"W-what?" Sirius frowned, confused.

"Look, it is clear that your relationship with me is not as important as your relationship with James" you cried a little more. "S-so, if you want to just- e-end whatever this is, I completely understand and-"

"What?!" he said, raising his voice a little. The two of you heard someone shushing you all the way on the other side and he looked back at you. "Sweetheart, I don't want to end things" he pleaded. "I-is that what you want? I swear I haven't flirted with anyone since I came back here and-"

"It's not what I want, Sirius" you insisted. "B-but... I just... I don't know what to do! I don't know what you want-"

"I want to be with you, love!" he insisted.

"Do you? I barely get to see you anymore. We're in different houses, we're in different years the rest of the time you're with my brother and you don't want him or anyone else to know about us! I don't know how long I can keep doing this, Sirius. It just doesn't feel as if you actually want to be with me!"

"I do!"

"Then why can't we just tell James so he can stop setting you up with a different girl every week!" you blurted out. "You think he doesn't tell me things? That he hasn't told me how he noticed you've changed and you don't talk to girls anymore so he keeps trying to set you up with them!"

"Well, of course, I've changed! I'm with you now and I don't want to be with anyone else!"

"But he doesn't know that, Sirius! So he's most likely going to keep doing this until you get fed up and tell him! So, why not just tell him already? Do you not want people to know about us-?"

"No! That's not it!"

"Is it me? Are you embarrassed to be seen with me or something?"

"What? No! Love, how can you think that!?"

"I don't know what else to think Sirius! I don't even know what we are!"

"Please don't ever think that" he said with a stern look on his face. "Look, I know I fucked up yesterday, and today, and probably lots of other times. I've never done this before and I-" he sighed, running a hand through his hair frustrated. "I love you" he said, making your heart flutter instantly.

"Y-you what?"

"I love you, sweetheart, okay? I know that. I've known it for a while. I have never felt like this about anyone and... I don't want to lose you" he said with his voice breaking a little. "I know I've fucked up, I just..." he sighed again. "I don't want you to think that my relationship with James is more important than you. Nothing to me is more important than you, okay? But... love..." he said, looking away. "I got disowned" he said, quietly. "I was kicked out of my family and James..." he continued. "Without him, I wouldn't have anywhere to go. I wouldn't even have you" he explained. "And he's my best friend and he knows me more than anyone. You also know that I don't have the best dating reputation here and... I'm just... scared that he's going to hate me and... then I'll have no one" he said. "I know this isn't fair to you, this is all just... a lot and new to me, and I'm so sorry-"

"Sirius" you said, cupping his cheek with your hand and smiling at him. You pulled him gently and kissed his cheek. "First of all, I love you too" you said, making him smile back at you.

"Y-you do?"

"Of course, I do. Why do you think I was so upset about you going out with another girl this weekend-?"

"That was never going to happen-" he interrupted.

"Secondly, I understand where you're coming from about James" you told him. "And we don't have to tell him until you're ready" you said. "But James loves you too. You know in a different way" you said, making him laugh a little. "I think he loves you more than he loves me-"

"That's not true" he insisted, making you chuckle.

"Either way, he would never turn his back on you" you insisted. "And neither will I" you assured him. He pulled you closer, kissing your temple before he wiped away your remaining tears.

"I'm so sorry, love" he whispered. "I don't want you to feel this way" he said. "I feel like I keep screwing up and hurting you-"

"It's okay, love" you assured him. "I mean, it's not the most ideal situation" you admitted. "But, we don't have to tell him until you're ready" you said. "I just... I don't particularly love that girls keep chasing after you" you mumbled, feeling your cheeks burn.

Sirius gently lifted your face slowly so you would look at him. "I promise I don't want to go out with anyone who's not you, love" he said. "Y-you trust me, right?"

You smiled sweetly at him, brushing his cheek with your thumb. "Of course, I do, love" you said, giving him a peck on the lips. "I love you" you said, feeling your heart flutter at the sweet smile on his face.

"I love you too" he said, giving you another kiss.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

"Hey, mate, where did you disappear off to?" James asked when Sirius walked into the boys' dorm. "We didn't see you after lunch, or at Potions, Charms, or at dinner" he told him.

"I uh- was... around" he said, innocently.

"Mhm" James said, looking at Peter. "By yourself?" he asked, making Remus roll his eyes as he kept reading his book.

"I um... well... yeah" he shrugged

"Interesting" James said, sitting up.

"All afternoon?" Peter asked.

"Yes" he said, sitting on his bed and throwing his bag on the floor. "I went out and had a cigarette. What's the big deal?"

"You missed class-" Remus spoke for the first time.

"Nobody cares about that, Moony" James interrupted as he sat on his bed. "See, we happened to hear otherwise, Padfoot" he said, smirking at Sirius.

"What are you talking about, Prongs?" he frowned, looking between him and Remus.

"Well, since you obviously missed dinner, you missed what everyone was talking about" he continued.

"I doubt it was anything interesting-" Sirius started.

"Oh, but it was" James continued. "See it was about you and your new... girlfriend" he said, making Sirius' heart drop.

"M-my what now?"

"Your girlfriend" Remus said, suddenly very interested in the conversation, closing his book.

"What are you talking about?"

"Well, Padfoot, apparently someone saw you today walking out of the library with a mysterious girlfriend" James explained.

"That's insane" he said, chuckling nervously.

"No, mate, it's from a reliable source" Peter nodded.

"Really? Enlighten me, Wormy, who is your reliable source?"

"Marlene and Dorcas" James added. "They all said they saw you leaving with someone who had a Gryffindor scarf" he said, getting up and walking over to Sirius' bed. "So, either you have a Gryffindor girlfriend, or maybe you gave her your scarf" he said, sitting down next to him. "A bunch of girls were claiming it was them but according to Marls, it wasn't-"

"Do you really have nothing better to do than wondering if I am with someone-?"

"See, it all adds up" James continued. "Why you wouldn't go out with Emmeline, or any other girl for that matter" he said. "We just want to know why you didn't tell us!"

"Because it's none of your business!" Sirius said, getting up, frustrated.

"So it's true!" Peter smirked.

"I knew it!" James yelled at the same time. "Who is she?"

"You kind of built yourself up for that one, Pads" Remus told him.

"I didn't say it was true!" Sirius said, feeling nervous.

"You didn't deny it" James smirked. "C'mon Pads, tell us who she is!" Is it just a fling?"

"Yeah, who is this mystery girl and why did you hide it from us? Usually, you brag about your flings" Peter laughed.

"There's no mystery girl and it is not a fling-!"

"Again, you just keep setting yourself up, mate-" Remus intervened.

"Hey dorks, I need some food. I missed dinner" you said, suddenly entering your brother's dorm and the four boys turned to look at you.

"Oh, suddenly you're in a good mood again?" James asked, glaring at you a little.

"I am if you feed me" you said, walking over to your brother's night table because you knew he would have dinner's leftovers. Which coincidentally happened whenever you or Sirius would miss dinner.

"Hey, bug, did you hear about Sirius' secret girlfriend?" James asked suddenly, making you choke on the banana muffin munching on.

"W-what? Sirius has a secret girlfriend?" you pretended to be confused as Remus rolled his eyes when you sat next to him and dropped your bag on the floor.

"Yeah, we're trying to figure out who she is and why he didn't tell us" Peter added.

"Hold on" James said, sitting up and looking at your tossed bag on the floor. "What's that?"

"What's what?" you asked, with your mouth half-fulled at the same time Sirius did.

James noticed something peeking out of your bag. Something scarlet and gold. He quickly got up and grabbed it, taking it out.

"Why do you have a Gryffindor scarf?"

"I um-" you swallowed, nervously. "That's yours-"

"No" he insisted. "Mine is over there" he said, pointing at his opened trunk with his scarf on top, falling out of it.

"Uh- P-Prongs" Sirius started, but your brother looked deep in thought.

"How long do you reckon it's going to take him?" Remus muttered, sitting up.

"Oh for Merlin's sake! I can't take it anymore!" Sirius yelled, frustrated. "That's my scarf!"

"Now we'll never know" you mumbled, giving him a piece of your muffin.

"So, you're the mystery fling?" Peter asked with his jaw dropped.

"She's not a fling!" Sirius argued.

"Wait, how long has this been going on!?" James asked looking between you and Sirius.

"Well, we've actually been seeing each other since this summer" Sirius explained.

"SINCE SUMMER?!" James blurted out.

"Jamie, is not a big deal-" you tried.

"It is a big deal!" he argued. "How come I didn't know about this?" he asked, looking at Sirius.

"Well, I didn't know how you were going to react, Prongs and-"

"So you lied to me?"

"Technically we didn't lie" you told him. "We just didn't say anything-"

"Oh, don't use that with me, I invented that, bug" he glared at you. "Plus, today when we talked to Emmeline, you said you weren't dating!"

"No, I didn't" you argued.

"Yes, you did!"

"No, I didn't!"

"Yes, you did!" James complained as Remus, Sirius, and Peter kept looking between the two of you.

"No, actually, technically, I didn't" you insisted.

"Yes, you di- oohhh" he gasped, remembering your previous conversation. "You didn't! You clever bug, I'm impressed" he smirked, proudly as he gave you a high-fived and you accepted it, rolling your eyes a little. "So you two have been seeing each other for months now?"

"Pretty much" you said, still a bit nervous.

"And this is why you kept turning me down when I tried to set you up?" he asked Sirius.

"Yeah" he admitted.

"Are you happy with her?"

"I am. Very happy" Sirius quickly said.

"Are you happy with him?" he asked you.

"I really am" you replied.

"Okay" he said, sitting back on his bed.

"W-wait, you're... you're okay with this?" Sirius asked, extremely confused.

"Well, I don't love that you hid it from me but... yes, why wouldn't I be?" James shrugged.

"W-well, b-because I thought- are you kidding me? I thought you were going to kick my ass!"

"For dating my sister? You do know her, right? She's more than capable of kicking your ass" he laughed. "Plus, I'm assuming that since it's been going on for a long time it's... a serious relationship?"

"Well, we haven't had our first date yet, but... yes" Sirius said, sitting on your other side and holding your hand.

"Wait, you haven't had your first date, what the hell have you- no! You know what, I don't want to know" James said, glaring at you as you laughed.

"See, mate? I told you James wouldn't mind" Remus said, patting Sirius on the back and erasing James' smile off his face.

"E-excuse me?" James said, getting upset. "Remus knew?"

"Prongs" Sirius said getting up at the same time.

"You mean to tell me that the two of you have been together for months and YOU TOLD REMUS BEFORE ME?!!" he snapped.

"It was an accident, mate-"

"Oh, I'm sure it was!" James said, glaring at Sirius. "I can't believe you did this to me! Why would you betray me like this?!"

"I'm sorry, Prongs! I can make it up to you, okay? Honeydukes, this Saturday, I'll buy you all the candy you want!"

James stood there with his arms crossed. "... I'm listening" he caved.

"But I thought we were having our first date-"

"Oh, don't you even think so, bug! Remus knew!"

"This is going to be my whole life, isn't it?" you asked Remus and Peter.

"Yes."

The End

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

A/N: I know this was a roller coaster of emotions but I hope you loves liked it! :D

[katelynnwrites]

Can You Feel This Magic In The Air? (It Must Have Been The Way You Kissed Me) | Lea Schüller

warnings: none :)

word count: 1422

summary: lea makes your today and every day a fairytale

a/n: yeah i know my writing needs work, it’s not been good recently but i wanted to post something because it’s been 100 days since i watched lea score in person

It’s exactly six when there is a knock on your door.

You open it immediately, not even bothering to attempt to pretend like you haven’t been nervously waiting for it.

Lea is standing on the other side, a blush already painting her cheeks as she holds out a small bouquet of flowers.

You’re kind of taken aback.

Firstly, she is here at six, precisely the time she promised she would arrive at. None of the people you have previously dated have been that punctual.

Secondly, the flowers. The flowers have your heart beating faster as you gently reach out to take them.

When your hand accidentally brushes against Lea’s, there is a tiny zap of electricity. Not the bad kind but the good kind. The sort that lets you know that your body instinctively reacts to her touch.

The blonde woman must feel it too because she straightens up with a smile.

‘Danke. They’re gorgeous but really, you didn’t have to.’ You murmur gratefully.

‘Well I wanted to. You deserve to be treated like a princess.’ She answers.

You give her the shyest of smiles in response.

Thirdly, as you keep looking at her, appreciating her beauty, Lea takes you by the hand.

The gesture is affectionate and warm, your girlfriend taking a step nearer to you.

‘Can I kiss you?’ The German striker whispers.

It’s the way she asks that has you weak in your knees.

She is hopeful and gentle, her thumbs running back and forth over your palm as she waits for your answer.

You don’t make Lea wait because you are never going to refuse her. Especially if she keeps looking at you like you hung the moon and all the stars in the sky.

So you nod and your girlfriend smiles the loveliest of smiles, right before she presses her lips onto yours.

******

‘You’re so pretty.’ Lea compliments sincerely.

Her crystal blue eyes give you a once over and her hands run briefly down your body before they stop at your waist.

‘I look like a mess.’ You self deprecatingly giggle but Lea isn’t having any of it.

The blonde shakes her head vehemently.

‘You. Are. So. Incredibly. Pretty.’ She insists, punctuating each and every word with a kiss.

Your girlfriend is wearing a dark gray T-shirt and a pair of gym shorts. The clothes she has on accentuates her slim form. She looks stunning and the slightly crumpled dress that you had hurriedly pulled on after your post training session shower pales in comparison.

Lea gives you another kiss and then leans back to tuck a loose curl behind your ear.

Time slows down whenever you’re around the Bayern striker and you are intent on cherishing every moment.

You want to be able to memorise the exact way her eyes shine when you slip your hand into hers.

‘Thank you my love. That’s really kind of you.’

Your girlfriend hums, ‘It’s my pleasure…especially if you keep calling me that.’

******

It’s a light, hurried kiss that Lea presses onto your lips just before she runs off, back towards her seperate training group.

‘See you in a bit meine liebe!’ She rushes out, as she does so.

Forwards have been assigned different drills today so you, as a midfielder, have been forced to leave your girlfriend.

It’s only for a short time but you hate it.

Although the gesture of affection that the blonde has gifted you with has your heart fluttering in adoration as you watch her go.

The sun is shining, the sky is blue, the grass is green and you’re falling even more in love with Lea.

******

The blonde pulls you against her, closing her eyes and leaning her forehead against yours.

It’s only for a short moment because she draws back soon after, placing her hand on your cheek tenderly as she kisses you.

Your heart rate speeds up as your world narrows to just a single point. One Lea Schüller.

When the shared kiss ends out of necessity for air, you breathe heavily, a red flush spreading over your cheeks.

The German woman’s clear blue eyes are wide and she is gazing at you with such contentment and happiness that you wonder if she can feel the magic in the air.

It’s like you are floating because such is the lightness that Lea has instilled in your heart and it must have been from the way she kissed you.

******

Your girlfriend’s smile is beautiful. It is like the sun breaking through the clouds after it rains. Like sunshine reflecting off the ocean on a sunny day.

What you are trying to say is that Lea’s smile lights up your life.

It is doing that now as you turn over to face her.

The blonde has the duvet pulled up right under her chin, a sleepy grin tugging on her lips.

‘Morning.’ You whisper, leaning in to place a chaste kiss on her forehead.

Lea makes a pleased noise, her smile widening as she does so. She looks at ease and that gives you peace.

All you ever want is for her to be happy. You being the reason for her joy is a privilege that you will never take for granted.

Your girlfriend’s got a smile that takes you to another planet. It is out of this world really. The German woman might as well be an angel with how perfect she is.

Every move she makes and everything she says is right.

Over the course of your relationship, she has come to know you as surely as she knows herself so when she presses herself as close as she can to you, before giving you your own good morning kiss, the Bayern Munich forward cherishes the fact that you love her just as much as she loves you.

Lea is never going to doubt the depth of your love for her. Not when you take so much care in showing her, in each and every moment that she is by your side. The blonde considers herself the luckiest woman in the world to call that spot hers.

She hopes that you feel the same way about her. Her love for you is a love she never thought possible. It had been beyond the blonde’s wildest dreams to love someone as much as she loves you.

******

You fall in love with the sight of Lea sitting at your kitchen island, in her pajamas, with her usual morning cup of coffee.

The domesticity of it has found a special place in your heart.

You’re compelled to stand in the doorway, just taking a moment to appreciate it.

Here you are, with the woman who you have given your heart to. She’s simply sitting there and enjoying her morning coffee but it is everything to you.

Lea makes your heart rate speed up with her mere presence. It’s beating fast and hard in your chest and you wonder if she can hear it. It seems overly loud to you.

‘What are you doing over there?’

The sound of her voice snaps you out of it.

‘Just trying to remember the moment.’ You admit, with a blush already forming on your cheeks.

Your girlfriend’s amusement only grows and she leaves her half drunk coffee to walk over to your side.

‘You’re so precious.’ The German woman murmurs, wrapping her arms around your waist and placing tiny, delicate butterfly kisses all over your face.

Laughter fills your apartment, both yours and your girlfriend’s and as she holds you flush against her taller frame, you happen to catch a glimpse of the reflection in a mirror you have hung up on a nearby wall.

Lea’s eyes are fully focused on you and her hands are resting firmly on your waist. The blonde’s hair is loose around her shoulders and she is dressed in one of your old jerseys.

You fall in love with her all over again. It’s like you are going back to the moment she picked you up for your first date together.

You fell in love with her standing there then and you fall in love with her standing there now.

You are probably going to keep doing it over and over again for as long as you’re allowed to call yourself hers.

It’s your biggest and most sincere dream that you are going to be able to do that for the rest of your life because today is a fairytale.

Being Lea’s makes every single day a fairytale and you hope it never ends.

German Translations:

danke - thank you

meine liebe - my love

[cinnaleaf]

For the Racists Hiding in Anon: Log Off or Step the Fuck Up

Let’s have a chat!!! Because some of you seem to need a very CLEAR and LOUD wake up call about the way you conduct yourselves in fandoms.

Quite frankly, the racism running rampant in fandom spaces is disgusting and embarrassing. We shouldn’t have to keep circling back on this topic just because people insist on showing how truly uneducated and bigoted they are.

To the racists hiding behind anonymous accounts to send racist messages to others..I find you to be absolutely simpleton and pathetic. You’re not clever, funny, or even giving the read you think you are – so I’ll do you one better 😇 I think you’re a parroting bird that loves to hear yourselves chirp. You would never do this in public because you know the consequences it has. So why are y’all so suddenly bold online?? Your anonymity on the internet will not save you from being a pea brained buzzard hiding behind a screen. It only proves you lack the educational substance to inform yourselves of biases and at the very least correct it – it’s really the least you could do, seeing as black people live rent free in your mind.

Secondly, Trent is a black man. He’s not some token for you to project your racist fantasies onto. Regardless of his antics, this man has black ancestors, family members, and friends who are black. Thinking you can simultaneously froth and feen over him, read my fics, and send microaggressions and blatant racist hatred to other black women in this space is pure cognitive dissonance. Trent doesn’t want you. He never will. Even if you do feel that you fit his publicly conceived ‘preferences’. He’d take one look at your vitriol and be just as disgusted as we are. Sit with that and ponder.

I started writing fics because I wanted to create stories that are fun, reflect my experiences, and to connect with like minded people in the football space. My blog will ALWAYS be a safe space for black people, queer people, disabled people, women, and anyone else who understands what it means to be marginalized. If you cannot handle that, if my existence (and others) somehow offends you – this space is not for you. I don’t want you reading my fics. I don’t want you lurking on my blog. I don’t want you interacting with other black bloggers and people of color. And I definitely don’t want you bringing your racism into a fandom space that’s meant to be a fun refuge for people like me.

Your microaggressions don’t move me. Your overt racism doesn’t scare me. All it does is prove that your ignorance is a vast wasteland – you should honestly be embarrassed by that. And to be real, I refuse to make this space a comfortable place for you. If you want a space to spew your nonsense, find it elsewhere (where you’ll probably be banned) because it won’t be here. You’re not welcome here and I’ll brick the wall you try to crash into every time you attempt to make this an unsafe space for others. Maybe then you’ll understand what your hostility feels like when you dish it to others. 

And to anyone who’s been on the receiving end of this bullshit – your frustrations and exhaustions are 100% valid. This corner of the internet belongs to you just as much as anyone else, and you should feel free to make it safe for yourself in whatever you deem fitting. I don’t want anyone holding their breath before scrolling because of these people. Do not allow them to poison your safe space with utter nonsense, it’s YOURS.

I have only been active here for a few months after lurking for years, but in that short time I’ve connected with some really amazing people over these blood pressure inducing games, silly men, and just life in general. That’s what this space was meant for and I refuse to let anyone take that away from us. If you feel like this space has become more stress than it’s worth, I totally understand and would suggest taking a break if you need to, but your presence and perspectives will always be welcome to me and many other like minded individuals who aren’t smooth brained.

Anyway, I say all this to say I will not let someone else’s hatred exist here and I’m actively working on making sure these people are weeded out entirely. Make them uncomfortable, they deserve it.

If this bothers you racists in anyway, step the fuck up without anon being on so I can really give you the read you so desperately deserve.

x

[pareidoliaonthemove]

What Are Little Girls Made Of

“How far to the lifesigns, Thunderbird Five?”

Virgil stopped the rest behind the ‘mini-Mole’, as he waited for his older brother to respond.

“About twenty meters, Two. You need to veer five degrees right, and one degree down. That will have you breaking through their air pocket at the corner diagonally opposite from their position.”

“FAB, Thunderbird Five. Five degrees right one, one degree down. Moving out.”

Virgil keyed in the course change on his wrist controller, and activated the mini-Mole. With a high pitched squeal, the small ROV again started drilling into the concrete and rebar of the collapsed building. It captured all the detritus, mixed it with a quick setting binding agent, and extruded it against the ‘walls’ of its tunnel, ensuring that the resulting space wasn’t going to collapse immediately behind it.

Virgil eyed his wrist controller as he crawled after the machine. Time was still of the essence in this type of rescue. They hadn’t been able to ascertain exactly why the commercial complex had collapsed, and that made Virgil very unhappy.

In front of him, the mini-Mole chirruped, slowed its pace and drill, and pulled forward to show a hole in the ‘wall’ facing a void. Virgil activated his passive line to John, then crawled up to the entryway and cautiously poked his head through. “International Rescue. Is anybody here?”

Stupid question, he knew there were two human life-signs in this space, but the enquiry served multiple purposes. Firstly, it identified him, and stopped anyone from trying to brain him with a rock – it had happened. Trapped people panicked, and if they had fears about running out of oxygen, another person in ‘their’ space, breathing ‘their’ air was a threat that had to be ‘dealt’ with.

Secondly, it told him if the lifesigns were conscious. No conscious victim could resist responding to the magic words...

“International Rescue!”

And there it was. One of the two lifesigns was currently bouncing towards him, a little girl about seven years of age, rushing across the space, her pigtails streaming behind her, pink ribbons fluttering. Virgil watched carefully as he crawled into the space. She was moving freely, despite concrete dust liberally coating her body, and bloody red grazes on the sides of legs and palms of her hand. Her dress, once a pink frilly layered affair was now torn and lank.

She must have felt like a princess when she left her home this morning.

The little girl grabbed his hand and started trying to drag him back with her to the far corner. “You have to come, Mummy’s stuck! She can’t get out!”

“Judy! Calm.” The voice was laced with pain but firm and calming. Two conscious resucees. That was good.

Judy stopped her insistent dragging, but didn’t let go of Virgil’s hand. “Please, Mister International Rescue. My Mummy is stuck. Can you help her get out?”

Virgil smiled, it was a practised smile, confident and calm. “That’s why I’m here. Now, where is your mummy, and what is her name?”

A deep breath. “My Mummy’s name is Jennifer Robson. My name is Judy Robson. Mummy is over in that corner,” she pointed. “And her legs are caught under the roof. Mine were, too,” she added, “but I’m little so I managed to wiggle my way out. Mummy can’t.”

“Thank you, Judy. You’ve been very brave, and very helpful. Can you keep helping me by staying here, while I go and see what’s got your mummy stuck?”

A determined nod, but her fear was betrayed by small teeth gnawing at her lower lip and bright water gathering in her eyes.

Virgil smiled again, and lowered himself down beside her mother. “Mrs Robson?” he asked, it never hurt to check names with parents. Judy had spoken clearly, but a misunderstood name at a rescue site could have consequences later.

The woman smiled up at him from where she lay on her left side. “That’s right, please call me Jenny. It’ll save time.” A glance at her daughter. “It’s a bit more complicated than just being stuck. I think something’s gone through my left leg.” A frown. “My right leg is lying in front of the left, and I can move it freely, but…”

Virgil nodded. “Okay. I understand.” He pulled a device from the satchel he had been dragging under his chest, clipped to his harness. “This is a snake,” he showed Mrs Robson. “I’m going to slide it behind you, and it’ll let me see what’s holding you in place. Then I can come up with a plan to get you out.”

“That would be appreciated,” Jenny smiled.

Virgil eased his way behind her, and activated the snake, sending it slipping down next to her back, and relaying what it ‘saw’ to a little 2D screen on the control box.

He frowned at what he saw. A piece of rebar – entirely too thin for what it was presumably doing, he noted absently – had been freed from it encasing concrete, and had stabbed through Jenny’s left calf. He sent the snake bobbing down, to examine beneath.

They were in luck, the rebar had only just broken the skin, and hadn’t pinned her to the slab below. One cut, a slight jacking of the slab above her, and Jenny could be pulled out.

He informed Jenny as much, and then paused. Judy was sitting cross legged where he had left her, her apparent calm betrayed by the clean furrows tear tracks had carved down the concrete dust coating her face. He couldn’t send the little girl up the tunnel on her own, there were too many side branches that had been carved to reach other victims of the collapse. He couldn’t take her himself, and leave Jenny alone. And they really couldn’t afford the time to have one of his brothers come down and collect Judy, but she was still only young, and he didn’t really want her to see the state her mother was in.

Jenny saw where he was looking, and smiled. “If you’re worried about upsetting her with blood, you shouldn’t. Your biggest problem will be keeping her out of the way to wrap up a wound. Little girls come in two flavours, precious princesses who kick up and fuss at the mere mention of the word ‘blood’, or perfect little ghouls, who delight in it, and must be shown any wound the instant they learn of it.” She raised her voice so her daughter could hear. “Judy wants to be a doctor when she grows up, she is very interested in first aid and how to treat injuries. Judy the Ghoul, we call her.”

Judy perked up. “Oh, does Mummy need first aid? Can I help? I know how to apply bandages! Please, can I help? I’ll be super helpful!”

Virgil glanced at her mother, who was all but laughing at his confusion. “Judy, tell Mister International Rescue how you treat someone with a stab wound.”

“First, never ever ever take the object out of the wound. Take a bandage, and make doughnut, like this,” she held up both hands to make an ‘O’ shape, “slide it over the foreign object, and then wrap other bandages around it to keep in place.”

Virgil nodded approvingly. “Very good. That’s absolutely correct. First I’m going to have to get your mom out, and then we can do the first aid together, okay?”

A determined nod. “Yes, sir.”

“Okay, then, let’s get cracking.” He turned to his satchel, and pulled out a jack, setting it up, again behind Jenny, and then pulling out a version of Mini-MAX. This one programmed for exactly this kind of scenario, and kitted out with a miniature version of his shoulder mounted laser.

Virgil always had trepidations about ‘his’ Mini-MAX. It had taken Brains a lot of trial and error to tone down MAX’s natural enthusiasm. That coupled with a high powered laser had had … interesting results. International Rescue’s high energy equipment testing protocols and test chamber had both needed serious overhauling.

As was his habit, Virgil held his breath as Mini-MAX attached the heat absorbing shield, and activated his laser. But the little robot did his job perfectly, flying back out to his ‘travel’ case, leaving Jenny with a half-inch of rebar sticking out of her leg.

Virgil again held his breath as the jack slowly, so slowly, eased upwards just enough for him to slide Jenny out without jostling the rebar, and, once she was clear, slowly easing the slab back down to its original position.

As Virgil turned his attention to his charge’s injury, he found the little girl, kneeling beside her mother, her face mere inches from the ground, as she examined the injury with a bright-eyed intensity that made him just a little bit uneasy.

Gently pulling the girl, back he helped her sterilise her hands, and they both made a ‘doughnut’ out of bandages, and while Judy held them in place, Virgil started the binding bandage. He then turned to give Jenny painkillers, while keeping an eye on Judy as she completed the binding.

Quickly assembling the hover stretcher from its folded up state in his satchel, Virgil explained his evacuation plan to his patient and ‘assistant’. Jenny was soon installed on the stretcher, and strapped firmly in place, while Judy was more loosely strapped to her right side, so she could ‘monitor’ her mother on their trip to the surface.

Bringing the mini-Mole around to face back up its tunnel, Virgil tethered the hover stretcher to its back, and sent the Mole, the stretcher and its occupants trundling back towards freedom. Quickly packing up his remaining equipment, Virgil started crawling after the Mole, quietly confirming with John the condition of his rescuees and confirming that there was appropriate resources waiting for them top side, and that there was no-one else to pull from the wreckage of the building.

The trip back up passed quicker than had the one down, with Judy chatting happily to her mother, and then relaying regular ‘updates’ back to Virgil. The dying rays of sunlight bathing the scenery in reds and golds seemed unnaturally bright to Virgil as he crawled out of the hole, accepting Gordon and Scott’s help to stand upright again, and pull off his helmet. His back cracking as he straightened, but he bit back the groan as he twisted. That was just a bit too ‘old man’.

Ambulance crews, already briefed by John as to Jenny’s condition, and treatment already provided, had shifted her from the IR stretcher to their own gurney, and Judy was standing, watching intently as they took her vital signs, and unworriedly alternating between talking over, and talking to the little girl.

A woman, dressed in the ambulance’s uniform, drew Jenny away, and briefly examined the grazes on her legs and hands, and Virgil was briefly concerned that he had missed something in his haste to free the mother. But as the woman realised Virgil was watching, she offered a smile, and a thumbs up; and Virgil relaxed.

Beside him, Gordon nudged his arm, pressed an object into Virgil’s hand. It was one of the buttons Virgil had had made up, a test run of item he wanted to propose to Scott for distribution to kids at Danger Zone. A small button with a pin back. In the centre was the IR logo, an around it, in – naturally – Thunderbird Two Green was the words “I Was Brave For International Rescue”.

Virgil frowned at Gordon. These weren’t supposed to be here, but Gordon just nodded to Judy. “She’s earned it. Scott’s busy, go on, Virg.”

Virgil walked over, and knelt down beside Judy. “I wanted to thank you, Judy. You were very brave and very helpful back there.” He held up the button to her. “You’ve earned this. Can I pin it to your dress?”

Judy’s eyes went wide as she saw the button, and she nodded. Virgil reached forward, and very carefully pinned it to the dress, probably a bit high, it was near her collarbone. But Judy stared down at it a moment, before launching herself at Virgil and nearly strangling him with a hug. “Thank you, Mister International Rescue. Thank you for helping me and my Mummy.”

Virgil cautiously returned the hug, “Thank you, Judy.” A shout from the nearby ambulance had Judy’s caretaker gently pulling her away from Virgil and leading her away. Judy bounded as she went, pigtails streaming behind her. Back to her mother.

Twenty Years Later

Virgil lay back, watching the flickering pattern of light tiles rush past over his head. Whatever drugs they had given him on the way to the hospital were working a treat, what had been a fiery burning pain was now a dull throb, annoying but he could live with it.

A new body joined the lineup alongside his gurney, and Virgil turned his attention to the newcomer. A woman, about thirty, her long dark hair was caught in a plait, a pink ribbon incongruously woven into the braid, and formed the tie, candy pink scrubs that stuck out like a beacon amid the soft blues and teals.

A photo ID card at the end of the lanyard bounced about as she ran, and Virgil couldn’t make out then name, but recognised from the colour stripe along the right edge that the woman was an Emergency Department Trauma Surgeon. Attached to the lanyard, near her collarbone, was a pin, and Virgil strained to see it. He frowned, and reached up a hand to tug on the lanyard so he could get a closer look at the pin.

A IR blue clad arm reached about and caught his hand. “Hey, Virg, no grabbing. Hands to yourself, even when drugged, bro.”

There was a laugh, and the woman pulled off the lanyard one handed, and held the pin for his inspection. It was an old button, faded from exposure to light, but Virgil instantly recognised it. Scott had quickly forbidden them when he had found out, but the IR logo in the centre, and the words, “I Was Brave For International Rescue” ran around the edge in Thunderbird Two Green was unmistakable.

A name came to him, an image of a cement dust covered little girl in torn pink dress and pigtails, peering in fascination at the rebar piercing her mother’s leg. “Judy the Ghoul,” he said, voice slurring.

Above him, Judy – Doctor Judy – laughed. “That’s me. I’m honoured you remembered me.”

Virgil lay back and closed his eyes. “Never forgot. Little girls are ghouls. Important lesson t’ learn.” He opened his eyes. “My little girls are even worse. Had’ta keep infirmary locked. Was tryin’ to play ‘doctor’.”

She laughed again, turning her attention to his lower body. Virgil really didn’t want to know what she was seeing. Feeling what had happened was bad enough. A thought. “Did y’ Mum keep th’ leg?”

“No,” was the absent reply. “Sepsis infection at the hospital meant she lost her leg, at the knee. She has a prosthesis; reckons it’s the best thing that ever happened to her. Says it reduced her footache by fifty percent.”

She turned back to Virgil. “But I’m afraid we’ll not be reducing your footache, Mr Tracy. But if you can be very brave and helpful, we’ll have you back rescuing little girls from collapsed buildings in no time.”

Virgil smiled, as half of the people surrounding him, including his brother, fell away, and he was propelled through double doors into the gleaming sterility of a surgical theater. “I look forward to it.”

Notes:

I have five nieces, aged between ten and two. Any bandages or bandaids must be immediately removed for them to inspect the damage. Ghouls. The lot of them. Unless it’s their blood!

The standard disclaimers, I do not own Thunderbirds, either the TOS or CGI Series. (Although I do own copies on DVD.)

I do not do this for money, but for my own (in)sanity and entertainment.

[9mysterybook6]

What do I expect from this coward?🤦‍♀️

I told her to come and face me.

But guess what Rhylie did?

Rhylie you can't run away from me not after you keep lying and harassing us

you tried to escape again

This is exactly what Rhylie did on her old account.

I will continue to spread awareness about Rhylie to everyone.

But look at her actions

I'm so scared she said

And Rhylie is still playing the victim.

I thought at least is not that worst

But I was very wrong

because of that the spoiled brat Rhylie

First I never said that I queen of Tumblr But that was you

You insisted on saying you are queen of Tumblr

I have evidence in the previous posts that you said this.

Plus Rhylie says that she is a god to all us🙄����

And secondly

I never damsel in distress

I don't need anyone to save me

I can face my battles alone unlike you, you coward who hides behind your followers.

I said you are a fake damsel in distress And I did not mention myself in this phrase

else

Delete this now, You do not have the right to publish this drawing.

This drawing belongs to torrentialchaos.

This was an old drawing

When torrentialchaos didn't know Rhylie for who she really was

torrentialchaos story

((Alright, time for my story on Rhylie…

So, a while back, you may recall I did an art trade with Pami, and I very much enjoyed doing it.

Anyway, the next day, I got an ask in my inbox from her asking if I do requests, and of course I said yes. This was before I knew who she really was.

Anyway, her request was very simple. Draw herself, Pami, and a few other people (that she probably is also harassing) in the pose from Turning Red, which I did

Yes, I’m finally showing this now. Only so you can see what this creep made me do. I feel disgusted looking at this because I spent a good amount of time making this, only to find out I was being used for a stalker.

After I made this and posted it, I messaged Pami, of course since she was in it, and that’s when I found out the truth. Disgusted, I deleted the post immediately and blocked her.

And guess what happened next. A little later, I get a message from HER FRIEND asking me to unblock her! I unfortunately know what this is like as I had something similar happen to me once another time, but I’d rather not talk about that…

So yeah, that’s my Rhylie story. We need to get this creep off of tumblr for good.))

I feel bad for torrentialchaos

But what makes me angry is the response of Rhylie If you read what is in the picture

The worst thing is Rhylie taking The drawing without the owner's permission.

Seriously, torrentialchaos posted how they hates you now and you take the drawing and say three points

That's all matters to Rhylie.

her requests and demands

else Rhylie You prove it that you are 100% a Creep

I'm talking about this

@rainbow-starheart and @shadowwolfmemes was asked an important question

And you say you are 21 old And sensitive

You are asking someone with Different age from you to date you.

You don't even know them

They only know Rhylie through the drama

You ask to be in a relationship with people, you barely talked to them

Plus She wrote her name this way

(rhylie the cater fly is not a creep🤣🤣🤣🤣)

and other thing, I see your conversation with @rainbow-starheart

You want to get rid of me, you donkey

Don't make me laugh

What will you do? Will you send me one of your followers on me Or ask them to expose me

You are really stupid🤣🤣🤣

Guys I want to remind you, that Rhylie tried to make evidence against me In her old blog.

And it was very bad and weak evidence.

On top of that, she was confident of her weak evidence.

If you don't know what Rhylie evidence is

So let me tell you the funny thing.

Rhylie evidence was just a screenshot of On insults🤣🤣

just like that

There were many errors in Rhylie evidence.

First of all How do you know if this is was me huh

You just take a screenshot of the letters and Nothing indicates my blog

Unlike you, I take full screenshot on your blog

and secondly You can play with the letters.

You can easily mix my insults With fake sentences from you

For example, you can write something and take screenshot And you say I said this

and thirdly

She was very confident in them.

(((This is the real evidence, My own evidence are true and there are many truths about your true color that you've kept hiding from me and you lied and making everyone turned against me,

Unlike you, you're f**king delusional about your business and controlling everyone for what you have did to me.

Don't you see that all this hate posts about me makes others win against your fking Filthy mouth of yours, you're the worst gacha community leader ever and it is ugly and disgraceful, you have been kicked out from gacha community group, shame on you mysteryb*h!!!!!!

I won't let everyone forgive you…….))))

I'm laughing like crazy at Rhylie stupidity.

Even if one of Rhylie's followers tried to exposed me

They will be thrown Tomatoes at them.

Because first of all there is nothing to expose me at all

And secondly, if they tried to cover up Your crimes With an excuse and empty arguments, than Their position will be very bad.

And thirdly

If they try to lie about the truth or deny it

Their position will be very bad if they lied.

For example, if they said that @pamithebunterfly2007 Under mysterybook control And her lies

pami will respond angrily: This is not true.

pami: and Who gave you the right to say that?

pami: Rhylie is the problem

pami: Rhylie is a old creep stalker me!!! And you dare to say that mysterybook controls me

And pami showering them with their anger While others agree too

You're just making yourself worse and worse every second.

You can't get away with harassing people that easily without punishment.

So I suggest you to delete your blog from here Rhylie

I'm not afraid of you, You coward

Face it I'm the winner in this drama

[waxingrunes]

i find it so cute that you and five have formed an alliance and discuss cock sizes of wolfstar like ten inches is even a common thing. why are you insistent on making sirius black so small in every way and remus so big. it’s unrealistic the idiot got that much right

Scooch in for me Anon we need a chat.

Firstly, you say all that with full bass and round it off by calling someone else an idiot. You brought that point to a home run my guy.

Secondly, Five and I have had several conversations relating to many a thing fandom related and not, as one who is capable of forming friendships (I know this might be difficult for you) often does, and yes one of those topics has been the size of Remus J. Lupin’s horse 🐓. Now, the point of you saying I, or we, are insistent on making Sirius’ everything smaller is bizarre to me as someone (you) with adequate enough reading skills to understand the ask of Five’s you’ve garnered this information from, I’m going to make the assumption you therefore have enough to read/view everything else on our pages. One of these things is that Five’s Sirius is exceptionally tiny in comparison to their Remus— their, Remus, their Sirius, and their work is of course going to reflect that. As a supporter of a good size difference, I’ve gobbled that up since the word go and supported Five’s vision through drooling over their story and making subsequent art to reflect this very representation of Wolfstar.

What I haven’t done, is expressed any specific sizing that I myself visualise my default Wolfstar to be, only spitballed a range of heights (I got you, these were: Sirius being anywhere between 5’7 and 5’11 and Remus, 6’2 to 6’5). To save you the question, I’d say my default headcanon is Sirius as 5’10 and Remus at a whopping, staggering, unrealistic monstrosity of 6’4. Forgive me for enjoying a short(er) but very much average Sirius next to a tall Remus.

Keeping in line with your hot poker tone, I’ll agree with you on one thing and that is, ten inches worth of 🐓 is very rare but I’ll let you in on a secret as to how I personally, came to that figure that inspired Five’s vision and my own separate one outside of her gorgeous story— the man I’m dating. Might shock you to know real men exist outside the world of fanfiction, with big hands and obnoxious heights (6’7) and huge extremities between their legs (10”). Double figures can exist outside of your IQ.

Also, even if anyone does enjoy absorbing a huge Remus and an exceptionally tiny Sirius as a constant theme in their experience here, who the fuck are you to shame them for it. Fiction, is what you’re getting a twist over. Fiction. Go run off into the corner of the fandom where what you enjoy does exist and take a breath because it seems you stumbled across an adult conversation here, and it’s got you feeling all out of sorts.