#seriously if only someone had given him LOVE in the first place he would never rebel

[yesdramas]

#Runyu did nothing wrong ASHES OF LOVE 香蜜沉沉烬如霜 — 2018, dir. Chu Yui Bun

[yueebby]

Dying thinking about gojo literally pinning and hardcore simping for reader, literally showering reader in praise, flattery and gifts because he no longer gives a damn about hiding his feelings, almost proposing to reader whenever he can and reader's just... completely clueless about it💀 and she thinks it's just gojo being friendly. Poor man would be absolutely devastated when he goes one day "[name] i'm in love with you" and she just goes "me too, i love all my friends!" 💀

she loves me, she loves me not! — gojo satoru x fem!reader

contents. fluff, lovesick!gojo (what’s new), highschool!gojo, he’s pathetic but in love your honor, oblivious!reader, ooc gojo i got carried away soz

notes. anon, when i first read your ask i literally started giggling and kicking my feet. that. is. so. gojo coded.

“please reject gojo and put him out of his misery,” utahime implored, taking hold of both of your hands. you think she’s asking, no, begging you to. beside her, shoko nods vigorously. 

“but why?” you furrow your eyebrows, perplexed by their sudden request. “i can’t reject someone who doesn’t like me.”

shoko giggles at your comment. her laughter only wanes when she notices the dead serious look on your face. “... you seriously have no idea what we’re talking about?”

“not really,” you shrug, criss-crossing your legs to find some comfort on the hard wooden floor in shoko’s small dorm. it was late, past midnight, and the three of you had a shared mission tomorrow, but for some reason your two friends managed to rope you into their drinking circle.

utahime and shoko exchanged a significant glance, their unspoken communication raising your curiosity. utahime takes a long sip of her beer. 

“hopeless. they’re both hopeless,” your short haired brunette friend lamented, pinching her nose bridge. it leaves a faint pink mark.

intrigued, you lean in closer towards the two, “care to elaborate?”

“you’ve never once questioned satoru’s borderline inappropriate behavior?” shoko asks you earnestly. you ponder for a moment, trying to recall any moments in the two years you’ve known the snow-haired boy.

“satoru is satoru…” you mumble, shaking your head in denial. 

utahime’s eyes bug comically. she slams her can of beer harshly on the ground. you wince at the loud noise of the metallic can hitting the floor.

“you’re kidding. even i can see through that jerk!” utahime’s black pigtails sway wildly. 

“[name], how about what happened in shinjuku last week on our day off?” shoko quietly reminds you of last weekend when the two of you along with satoru and suguru decided to empty your pockets in one of tokyo’s largest entertainment wards. 

utahime’s head whips back and forth from her best friend to you, “eh? what happened?!”

from behind the dressing room curtain, you voiced your concerns, “shoko, i don't think we can afford designer clothes on our student budget.” the cream-colored silk dress you wore clung to your body, its price tag undoubtedly surpassing a year's worth of your student earnings.

“don’t worry your pretty little head about it,” shoko’s voice carried a knowing smile. “just come out and show me the dress!” you think satoru’s carefree attitude is rubbing off on her.

with a nervous sigh, you emerged from the dressing room. the dress fit like a glove, accentuating your body in just the right places.

bright flashes from shoko's phone startled you, and she chuckled deviously while rapidly typing. she tossed her phone onto a luxurious cushion, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of exposure.

“you look so sexy. even better than the model.” she gives you two thumbs up, eyes roaming your figure. you feel flushed at her praise.

“as flattered as i am, there’s no way i can afford this,” you look down at the dress, lips downturned. “i’d be in debt for life.”

“no need to worry,” shoko winked, leaving you confused. given that her income was similar to yours, it didn't make sense for her to be able to even dream of shopping designer.

a soft thud interrupted your conversation. you turn around to see a blue lollipop rolling on the expensive carpeting of the store.

“suguru, are my eyes deceiving me or is that an angel?”  satoru's mouth is wide open as he shamelessly checks you out. he takes one of his hands and places it over his heart, gripping the fabric of his white shirt. the windbreaker he is wearing rustles at his dramatic movement.

“i think… i’m experiencing a heart attack! shoko help!” he kneels in the middle of the store dramatically. shoko shares an unamused look with suguru. the pair nod before simultaneously kicking satoru.

during all of the commotion, you stand awkwardly in the million yen dress. 

“satoru, are you okay?” you watch him take the two blows from your friends, concern evident in your voice. he grunts softly before gently taking ahold of your hand.

“no,” he croaks with a playful glint in his eye. “i’m wounded and there’s only one way to fix it.”

you look at him, your gaze heavy with concern.

“i’m afraid you’ll have to kiss me for the pain to go away.” he added, blinking at you expectantly with his blue eyes.

 you lightly shove him away from you. “you’re an idiot.” satoru laughs loudly.

“that’s what love does to a man.”

“yeah, yeah. i’m going to change out of this dress, don’t get into any more trouble while i’m gone.” 

 satoru’s grip on your hand strengthens, halting your actions.

“how much?”

“excuse me?”

“the dress. how much for it?” he stands up to his full height, reminding you of the obvious height difference between the two of you. 

you're at loss for words. gojo was crazy, but definitely not crazy enough to spend a million yen on a silly dress.

shoko happily chimes into the conversation. “one million yen. it’ll be two million yen with the rest of my purchases though!” 

suguru’s calm demeanor is replaced with shock. the black haired male’s jaw drops, “two million– satoru, you’re seriously not thinking about–”

“hah? who said i’m paying for your stuff?” gojo makes an ugly face at shoko.

she raises her hands innocently, “it’s not my fault the dresses come in a set. if you want to see your beloved [name] in that dress you’ll have to pay for mine as well.”

you watch shoko and satoru engage into a silent argument. the tension in the fitting room section is so thick, you think it’ll take a special grade weapon to slice through it.

trying to alleviate the mood you tell gojo, “satoru, you really don’t have to–”

“i’m buying you that dress.” 

“o-okay.” 

half an hour later, satoru happily strolls out of the store with an arm around your shoulder like he’d just won the lottery.

perhaps gojo is just naturally flirty, you had tried to reason to shoko and utahime.

it’s been a week since the eye-opening conversation with the two and you’ve found yourself on cleaning duty with said snow-haired boy. it was a miracle that satoru even showed up. he had a tendency to skip his turns, often resulting in a long lecture from yaga.

as the two of you worked silently in the empty classroom, you couldn't help but admire the setting sun. its golden rays painted the sky with hues of pink and orange, casting a warm glow over everything. unknowingly, while you gazed at the sky, gojo's gaze was firmly fixed on you.

breaking the silence, he asked, "have you ever thought about getting married?"

his question caught you off guard, causing you to momentarily pause from wiping the windows.

“not really,” you replied, biting your lip gently. “unless my family decides to arrange a marriage. you know how unforgiving the world of jujutsu sorcery is.”

gojo's grip on the broom tightened, his eyes locking onto yours with a newfound intensity.

"we should get married y'know," he blurted out.

the piece of cloth you were using slipped from your hand in shock. surely, he couldn't mean what he was saying. after all, the two of you were only second years.

“what?”

“i’m saying i think i’m in love with you.”

“oh.” 

silence engulfs the room once more before a soft giggle escapes your lips.

satoru can only watch, entranced.

“that’s good to hear! i love you too– and suguru and shoko! perhaps the four of us should all just get married.” you chuckle into your hand.

satoru can't help but stare at your hand in envy. perhaps if he were the palm of your hand, he’d be able to feel the touch of your lips.

but he couldn’t. he was cursed as a man with an overpowered innate technique, and despite it all he couldn’t even gain the one thing he desired. gojo satoru watched you, eyes filled with a mixture of longing and defeat.

his devastation does not go unnoticed by you.

you were under the impression that he was grumpy because yaga had forced him into cleaning with you.

"cheer up, satoru! if we finish early enough," you continue, your tone highspirited, "we can go to the new crepe shop that opened last week. my treat!" you winked, and that immediately caught his attention.

“like a date?” his eyes sparkled with hope.

you shrug, a smile on your face. “i suppose if you look at it from a certain perspective…”

“great, it’s a date!” 

good things come to those who wait, satoru thinks, humming happily as he starts to sweep the room at an inhumane pace.

maybe in ten years time the two of you will be happily married with eight kids, he smiles to himself.

[afterglowsainz]

gold rush | franco colapinto

pairing: brazilian!vet!reader x franco colapinto

summary: you were used to your boyfriend’s flirty personality, but still every now and then you couldn’t help getting jealous

fc: beca oliveira

request: here

a/n: i haven’t done a written fic in so long please bear with me 😭

—

liked by francolapinto, bffusername and others

yourusername patients of the week 💖

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friend1 the cutest!

friend2 the way i couldn’t be a vet cause i would just be kissing them all the time

yourusername oh don’t get it twisted i am kissing them 24/7

bffusername dream job

friend3 how does it feel to live my dream 😭

francolapinto los amo😍 (i love them)

liked by yourusername, alex_albon and others

francolapinto ready for another race week 🤩

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username always with the mate

username ugh just look at him!

username didn’t expect my crush on this man to last this long

username casually serving face on the first pic

username idk how to explain this but he looks like a taylor swift song

yourusername agree

username omg girl hey 💕

—

There was no reason to be angry. No real reason, anyway. Deep down in your mind and at the core of your heart, you knew there was no way Franco was seriously flirting with anyone but you. Your heart on the other hand...

This wasn't the first time this had happened. Since joining F1, Franco had become known for his flirtatious personality and undeniable charm; it was part of who he was, and it had never really bothered you before—you knew what he was like. So why were you suddenly so upset after watching that interview everyone was talking about on Twitter?

The answer was so obvious you didn’t even want to admit it to yourself, but it was staring you right in the face. The reporter was what bothered you. It wasn’t her specifically, of course—you’d seen her a few times and knew she was the picture of professionalism, not to mention charming. But she was completely different from you. It was no secret that Franco had always liked blondes.

—

Damn. All the pieces of the puzzle fell into place with that single message.

Franco had never really stopped to think about the consequences of his actions. Of course he had seen comments online about his interviews, but he never worried about how his girlfriend might interpret them. He was simply doing his job by giving interviews to journalists. If there was someone his age he could feel relaxed around, he would do so—it was part of his personality. But he would never disrespect his girlfriend by insinuating something more. She was everything to him.

Franco quickly went to Twitter to look up the interview video he had given hours earlier. As he analyzed it, he realized how some of the things he said or the way he expressed himself could come off as insinuations on his part, and he cursed himself internally, imagining his girlfriend watching the same video.

He had to fix this, and fast.

liked by yourusername, olliebearman and others

francolapinto special gp coming 🇧🇷 (in the country of the most special person)

tagged yourusername

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username ngl i sometimes be forgetting he has a girlfriend

username THE ABSOLUTE GODDESS

username franco move i’m tryna see y/n

username the hand placement 🥺

username the power couple they are

username in love with them

yourusername okay i guess i might forgive you just this once 🙄

francolapinto i love you (only you) ❤️

[literally-loco]

Lend a Hand? (18+)

Pairings : Johnny “Soap” Mactavish / Fem!Reader / Simon “Ghost” Riley Content Warnings : PIV Sex, Oral (Fem receiving) Voyeurism, She/Her pronouns used, [slut] used, praise Word Count: 3K A/N: This is my first time actually posting my writing-thank you SO much for reading xoxo

————————————————————————-

“You want me…to fuck your best friend?”

————————————————————————-

You almost dropped the dish you were scrubbing and looked over at your boyfriend in disbelief. Did he seriously just ask that, like it was nothing?

“What?” By the look on his face, you wondered if you’d misheard him. That was the face of someone asking what you wanted for dinner, or if you’d taken the bins out.

“What’d you say Johnny?” You asked, letting the plate fall softly back into the soap(hah funny) filled water.

“Simon. Think you’d ever fuck him?” He barely looked up from his phone, letting his arm drape lazily over the back of your well-loved sofa. It wasn’t your hearing messing up-he’d actually said that. You faltered slightly, turning around to look at your boyfriend.

“I mean-Johnny where’s this coming from?” You asked hesitantly. Johnny had never been an insecure boyfriend-he’d proudly show you off to his friends at any given chance. You’d be the one to choose the less revealing outfits, he was just so desperate to show his friends how lucky he got.

“He’s been in a bad mood lately. ‘Think he needs a good fuck.” Johnny finally met your gaze, placing his phone down on the console table to give you his full attention. “I haven’t said anything yet-not to him.” He clarified, clearing his throat as he spoke. ”I trust him to not be a stupid bastard-most of the time-and, you know, he’s not a bad looker-“

“You want me…to fuck your best friend?” You cut him off, a shocked look on your face. You hadn’t thought about it before, hell, Johnny hadn’t brought it up before. You’d never really thought of Simon in that way, the man that managed to darken any doorway with his sheer presence. The man with eyes so deep you could spend days exploring them. The man who never gave away so much as a hint of who he really was-the man who you could spend hours interrogating and all you’d get was a migraine.

“I mean, yeah? Only if you want to hen, completely up to you.” His words were gentle, not pushy or pressuring, but a question. “I’d be in the room with you, right next to you if you wanted. And it’s Simon-not just anyone, Si-“

“I’ll do it.” You answered-suddenly quite sure of yourself. You’d had sex with people other than Johnny, sure, but never whilst you were dating anyone. It was new, that’s for sure, but was new necessarily bad? Johnny would be right there-he said so, and it was Simon. You’d met him countless times. And he was Johnny’s best friend-his brother in arms.

“Grand, I’ll shoot him a message.”

————————————————————————-

Three days has passed since Johnny had sent the message, and all you’d got in response was “Ok.”.

You opened the door, expecting your shopping, and was instead met with the wall that was Simon. You felt warmth creep up your neck to your face as it dawned on you. Today was the day. What felt like minutes passed, and you were still stood in the doorway.

“Am I coming in?” His gruff voice asked, placing a gloved hand on the doorframe. You quickly moved to the side, and he walked his way in. “So we’re doin’ this?”

“Ah-yeah! You can still back ou-“

“No.” He cut you off, turning back to meet your gaze with those explorer worthy eyes. “I want to.” You just nodded, glancing back to wonder how a man could spend so long in the bathroom.

Johnny welcomed Simon soon after, pulling him into a hug, before leading him to the sofa. Unsure of how exactly this was going to go, you stood beside your boyfriend, letting a hand rest on his shoulder for comfort.

“Come sit down lass.” Johnny murmured, pulling you onto his lap as he continued talking to Simon about when they were next needed on base, the gentle rhythm of his finger gently stroking your thigh easing the building anxiety of what was to come.

“We doin’ this?” You glanced over at Simon’s sudden words, and caught sight of the small grin that had appeared on your boyfriend’s face. “Hope it’s not too..err..rushed-I assume Johnny already made out that I was some sex starved bastard.” Johnny snorted at that, his light strokes on your thigh soon turned into him gripping it tight, his fingers digging into the flesh of your thigh.

“Bit eager to fuck my girl, aren’t you Simon?” His grip stayed firm, almost holding you in place on his lap.

“Never said I wasn’t, Johnny.” Simon retaliated, his gaze staying fixed on you, those blue eyes meeting your gaze beneath his ever so familiar mask.

“Ready hen?” You barely had time to choke out a small “Yes” before Johnny was lifting you up, and carrying you into your shared bedroom.

————————————————————————-

You were used to the familiar sense of Johnny tossing you onto the bed with the greed of a starved man entering a banquet, but this time he ever so gently placed you down.

His gaze turned to face the shadow darkening your door frame, and spoke firmly. “Traffic lights rule apply-Green for go, amber for slow down, red for stop.” He shifted his body so he was facing you, his perfectly blue eyes meeting your gaze. “You still wanna do this? You can back out anytime lovie-mean it. He won’t be mad-neither will I.” His tone was gentle, but firm in a way that evidenced he meant what he said. You met his lips with yours, planting a soft kiss on his.

“I know. I want to.” And you did. Three days had passed-but it had been on your mind. How Simon would be the one to fuck you. How the hands you’d ever only seen gloved would be all over you. You’d wondered how he’d fuck you-would he be gentle? All soft words and soft hands. Would he be rough? Moving you around as if you weighed nothing, whispering harsh words into your ear as he ravaged you. It was enough to get you flushed in bed, lying next to Johnny.

“Don’t just stand there then Simon-not when she’s already on the bed, looking this pretty for you.” Johnny sat down in the corner chair, his gaze never leaving Simon-as he watched him slowly walk up to the bed.

You’d never considered the size difference before this. Johnny was tall, yes, but Simon was big. He easily towered over you, even when he crawled onto the bed, right by your legs.

His hands slowly met your legs, and a shiver ran down your spine. Even with those gloves on, you could still feel the heat radiating from his body, a stark contrast to how cold you felt. Gently pushing your legs to the side-his eyes never leaving yours, searching for any hint of discomfort-he settled in between them, blocking out the brightness from the ceiling light.

His hands continued their wander, up your lower legs, over your knees, and settled on your thighs. “This okay?” His rough voice asked, and you nodded. “Need an answer, I asked you a question, didn’t I?” You hadn’t expected him to sound so assertive, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Yeah-Yeah that’s okay.” You murmured, keeping your gaze on his masked face.

“Good.” His hands continued their journey, ending up on your waist, just under your shirt. “Want to lose this?” He gently teased the seam of your shirt, and you nodded once more. “Gotta speak up for me lovie.”

Once you’d consented, he carefully supported your back up, and lifted your shirt over your head.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful.” He murmured-quiet enough that maybe you weren’t supposed to hear. His gloved hands ran up your torso,

thumbs gentry stroking the skin just under your bra-wire. You sat up, gently moving him off you to reach behind your back. Simon scooted back, confused at first and searching for the uncertainty in your eyes. But when your bra fell forward, and you tossed it off the bed, his eye lit up. “So eager for me..” He murmured, lunging forward with his mouth stopping just over your nipple.

“Okay?”

“Yeah.” You murmured, taking a deep breath when you realised what he was about to do.

Barely waiting a second after you answered, he reached up to lift the mask onto his nose, revealing his scarred mouth. In an instant, his mouth was on your nipple, licking and sucking on it as if he would never be able to again. One of his hands moved to tease your other nipple-drawing a soft, desperate sound out of you. He captures it between his thumb and forefinger, pinching slightly to harden it between his fingers.

Desperate to pull that beautiful sound out of you again, he swapped over, palming your now damn breast with the gloved palm of his hand. “Such pretty fucking tits.”

“Aren’t they just?” Johnny’s voice chimed in, and your gaze turned to him. He got up out of his chair, and strode over to the bed. Crouching beside you, he planted a soft kiss on your lips. “Keep looking at him hen-keep those pretty eyes on him.” You nodded, turning your gaze back to Simon, and found his eyes staring up into yours. You’d never seen him so blissed before, suckling on your tit like he’d never see one again.

“You like that, eh? Having my best friends hands on you, teasing you, touching you?” Johnny murmured in your ear, and turned your face back when you went to look at him. “What did I say? Eyes on him.”

All you could do was let out a pretty whine when he pinched your nipple between his finger-sending jolts of pleasure down to your cunt, and earning a sharp inhale from Simon.

“She liked that, didn’t she L.T?”

Simon lifted his head, palming your breasts with his hands.

“You want some more hen? Is that it?” Your boyfriend murmured, and Simon’s hands slid off your tits, and down your torso until they rested on your hips. He-awkwardly-shuffled down the bed, until his head rested on your thigh.

“Are we losing these?” Simon murmured, his fingers resting on the hem of your shorts.

“Please…Simon..” You gasped, watching the small smirk appear on his face.

“So sweet for me-aren’t ya?” He breathed, gently pulling down your shorts and panties until you could kick them off.

“She’s awful sweet when she wants to get fucked.” Johnny chuckled, his hand on the back of your head to force your gaze down to Simon.

“All this, just from me worshiping those pretty tits?” You instinctively went to close your thighs, but his hands pushed them back open. “I’m not hearing red.” Simon’s eyes went up to meet yours, as he licked the first stipe up your folds.

You swear you met God.

A soft whine escaped your lips and the vibrations of his low chuckle ran up your spine. “So fucking sensitive-aren’t you?” You watched his eyes flutter shut as he darted his tongue over your bundle of nerves, and you couldn’t help but arch your hips into him.

Simon ate pussy like it was his last meal. He wasn’t sloppy, but you were sure the combined effort of his saliva and your wetness had made you a sopping mess for him. His hands left your inner thighs-and you didn’t quite understand why until you felt his thumb circling your clit. One gloved hand rested on your lower stomach, as you bucked your hips into his face. “Yeah-you’re real sensitive.” He murmured, his mouth taking over from his thumb, making what you assumed was a figure of eight over your clit.

With the ungloved hand-his middle finger gently teased your hole, until he pushed it inside to gently begin fucking you on his finger.

You definitely met God.

You should’ve guessed his hands would be thick-he was huge-but this was something else.

“You like that, hen? Knowing that my best friend is knuckle deep inside you, fingerfucking you.” Johnny whispered in your ear, planting soft kisses on the underside of your jaw. ”You love this. Knowing that whilst I’m planting kisses here-Simon is worshiping your drenched cunt.”

You bit your lip to stifle the gasps and whines that threatened to escaped, when something else pressed against your lips.

“Open.” Johnny murmured, and you tasted leather. Simon’s glove. “Bite down.” And you did-eyes rolling back as Simon added another finger inside you, stretching you.

“Ain’t that a sight L.T? These beautiful fucking tits, hard and wet, and her face blissed out whilst she has to bite down on your glove.”

You swear you heard Simon groan at the sight, increasing the speed of his hand, as his thumb found your clit again. Your back arched up at the sensation, and you heard him chuckle.

“Squeezing my fingers so fucking tight-you gonna cum? Going to cum on my fucking fingers?” All he got in response was your stifled whines, your gaze still meeting his. It was too much and not enough at the same time-your hips rocked against his hand, and the way his thumb drew circles on your clit had that tight knot inside you tightening, and tightening.

“C’mon lovie-cum for me.”

And all at once you felt that knot unravel-and you were soaring off the cliff. Simon’s hands gripped your shaking thighs, fingerfucking you through your orgasm. “Oh good girl…was that good? Looked so fucking good, didn’t she Johnny?” Simon murmured, planting soft kisses on your inner thighs.

“Looked beautiful hen.”

“Gonna let me fuck you doll?” Simon groaned, pulling his fingers free from your dripping wet pussy. “Gonna let me fuck you senseless, until you can’t even think?”

“Mmph-please Si..-“ You whined around his glove, clenching around nothing. Johnny chuckled, tilting your head up to face him. “Real fucking polite for someone fucking their boyfriends best friend.” He teased, forcing your head to look back at Simon.

You’d imagined a lot about this moment, but what you hadn’t considered was his size. Johnny was big, but Simon was huge. Uncut, and tilting slightly upwards, and perfect.

“God she’s drooling over it L.T.” Your boyfriend cooed, a small chuckle escaping his lips. “Drooling all over that fucking glove.”

Simon crawled up the bed until he was kneeling between your legs, the tip of his cock just ghosting over your pussy. “It’ll hurt for a bit lovie, but I know you can take it. Red and we stop.” His hands gripped your hips, digging into the flesh hard enough you were sure it’d bruise. He was gentle at first-pulling your hips close so he could push in. The moan that escaped around the glove was downright dirty, but you kept your gaze on him.

It took a while, and patience, but he bottomed out inside you, his hips flushed against yours. And the filthy moan that shuddered out of him was incredible.

“Just gonna sit there Simon?” Johnny teased, and was met with a stern glare.

“Recalculating Johnny. Didn’t realise how fucking-Jesus-tight she’d be.” He panted, pulling out nearly completely, before thrusting back in. “And so-so fucking warm.” He gasped, shuddering slightly as he thrust into you once more.

“Taking him so well hen, isn’t she Simon?” Johnny cooed in your ear, his hand resting on your throat.

“So-so fucking good.” Simon uttered back, getting a firmer grip on your hips as he picked up a regular pace.

“Such a good little slut for us, fucking my best friend whilst I watch.”

Simon let out a breathtakingly beautiful moan at that word-his head falling back slightly. “She-she fucking squeezed me Johnny.”

“She likes being a slut, don’t you hen? A little slut that gets fucked.” Your boyfriend chuckled, and Simon picked the pace up.

“Is-is that it? You like being fucked?” Simon groaned, drawing a string of moans to escape your lips as he picked up the pace. “Yeah you do-you love having your boyfriend watch you fuck someone else.”

His fingers found your clit again-and your legs instinctively squeezed around his waist. “Atta-fucking-girl.” Simon growled, the one hand gripping your waist moving to rest just over your collarbones. “Like that? Like having someone tower over you whilst they fuck you into the mattress?” He leaned over you completely, his head resting in the crook of your neck to leave open mouthed kisses.

“Gonna cum again? Gonna cum on my cock-yeah, you are.” His voice was rough in your ear, and you felt that knot tightening in your lower abdomen again. “Squeezing me so fucking tight-God you’re so fucking perfect. Wanted to fuck you for ages.” He shuddered, his rhythm faltering slightly. “Every time I saw you-those fucking eyes. Knew I needed them looking up at me as i f-fucked you.”

“Gon-gonna-“ You whined against the glove, no doubt biting through it at this point. And that was it-that knot unraveled once more, leaving your legs trembling around his waist.

“Gonna cum lovie-gonna fuck-fucking-“ He gasped, quickly pulling out as hot cum splashed onto your lower stomach.

It wasn’t until you heard Johnny’s own shuddering gasp that you realised he’d gotten off on this. How you didn’t consider he maybe liked watching, it was unknown.

“Open.” Simon’s gruff voice sounded next to your ear, cleaning the cum off your stomach with his fingers. You obeyed-and his fingers set on the flat of your tongue. You sucked on his fingers-until he pulled them out, and took the glove off of your chest.

“How’d you feel now Simon?” Your boyfriend teased, earning a tired glare from Simon.

“Should be asking her that. She’s been so fucking good for me.” His eyes bore down into yours as he knelt between your trembling thighs.

“Let’s get you cleaned up hen.” And you were scooped off the bed, your boyfriend carrying you into the en suite bathroom.

————————————————————————-

It was gone ten by the time Simon went home, and you’d ended up curled on the sofa with Johnny. “How was that hen?” He murmured, brushing a piece of hair out of your face.

You hummed, looking up at him. “Do you want to do it again sometime?” You asked your boyfriend, his blue eyes meeting yours.

“I think that can be arranged.”

————————————————————————-

[literaila]

kid megumi and gojo definitely took bubble baths together while megumi washes his hair and satoru's just yapping about how much he loves reader

“megumi,” gojo says, not even bothering to knock on the door.

it’s the boys fault, really, for leaving it open in the first place.

megumi stills, brows furrowing as his hands stop foaming the soap in his hair. “gojo?” he asks, a bit disbelieving.

he might be going crazy—it’s not uncommon for sorcerers. and megumi barely thought he would make it to fourteen and here he is, so. he should probably tell someone about the hallucinations but—

“you got it,” gojo answers, predictably, sitting on the toilet seat. “i need to talk to you.”

megumi peaks his head around the shower curtain slowly, blinking a few times to make sure the man is really there.

but he is, grinning at the tiny bit of megumi he can see, tapping his fingers on his knees obnoxiously.

megumi points a hand towards the door. “this is an invasion of privacy.”

“megumi,” gojo gives him a bland look. “i’ve seen you naked.”

“that’s creepy.”

gojo sighs, hanging his head. “we’ve known each other for so long now, and you still don’t trust me.”

“you still haven’t given me a reason to. can’t this wait? or not happen? i don’t want to talk to you.”

yes, megumi is still hanging halfway out of the shower. yes, his hair is dripping water on the floor. no, he does not care—it’s gojo’s house anyway. he can fix the ruined floorboards.

“it’s about your mother.”

at that megumi blinks. “what’d you do?“

“i didn’t do anything.”

“are you sure?”

“yes, i’m sure,” gojo scoffs, reaching out to pull his ear—which megumi expertly deflects (he almost slips and dies in the process). “am i crying on the floor right now?”

megumi considers it. then he recalls the last time you and gojo had a fight. he had to check gojo’s pulse every time he walked past the couch.

“good point. what is it?”

“as you know, her birthday is coming up—“

“are you serious?”

“megumi.” gojo’s eyes are dubious, his voice is disapproving. “your mothers birthday is very important.”

megumi rolls his eyes. “i know. i mean, are you seriously asking me about this right now? im in the shower. there’s shampoo in my hair.”

gojo nods very seriously. “it’s the only place she won’t hear.”

“she’s not even home.”

“she’s hidden cameras, megumi, i know it.”

“no she hasn’t.”

gojo pouts. “i want it to be a surprise. she always finds out about her gifts before i can give them to her.”

“that’s because you tell her.”

“the suspense is too much. i need you to buy her something for me and hide it so i don’t know what it is.”

he sounds absolutely serious, which might be the worst part of that request, actually.

and when has megumi ever done gojo a favor?

“gojo,” megumi gives him a little smirk, tilting his head. “i’m not doing that.”

gojo groans, falling onto the floor. “c’mon, megumi, we’re supposed to be friends.”

“you’re my teacher, if anything.”

“and your father,” he juts his chin, “favoritism is not cute.”

“good.”

megumi finally turns around. gojo was never going to leave, even if he’d attempted to tackle him out of the door.

and he’s used to this, anyway. there hasn’t been a day in seven years that he’s gotten some peace.

“okay,” gojo begins again, sounding like he’s won—which he hasn’t. “i was thinking some jewelry, but you know how picky she is. and besides, she’s too rough for something small. tsumiki is already getting her that chibi mug we saw in that corner store last weekend, and whatever you’re getting is off of the table too.”

“i’m not listening to this.”

“i could take her out to dinner, but that’s not a gift. and i do that anyway. maybe i should buy her a car—what kind do you think she’d like? something blue, like my eyes—“

megumi groans.

gojo pauses. “did you get soap in your eye?”

honestly, banging his head against the wall might be better than this. at least they have pain killers at the hospital.

megumi doesnt answer, no longer entertaining this, but gojo continues anyway.

“maybe we should re-do the bathroom, you know how she’s always saying that—“

god, when will it end?

[wanderingsoul6261]

Believing a False Lie

Credit for gif goes to fabiolajyx

James Beaufort x Reader

Synopsis: James takes part in a nasty dare to try and get the get the nerdy and social outcast to date him. He never expected to fall in love though. When Reader hears the truth from some girls at Maxton, she wonders what is true and false, and ultimately begins to avoid James. Will the truth be told and will amends be made?

Warning: Might be some swear words. Bullying takes place. Nothing more than that. the scene with the invitation to Alistair's party is improvised. The pool scene is also improvised.

P.S I got carried away and this really long 😅 excuse any mistakes. I have a sinus headache currently stabbing my skull and I can't take anything yet because certain sinus/allergy meds can effect how well my thyroid meds work.

-----

Y/N was a quiet person. She didn't say much. She took her studies way more seriously than multiple others at Maxton Hall. Some would say that she also went above what she needed to, studying mythology and ancient civilizations. Dedicated her time to be well accustomed to not only national history, but international. If it was within her interest, it did not go unknown by her.

She didn't have many friends, but she did talk often with Ruby Bell and Lin. Y/N was a social outcast and many saw her as that. She knew it. Being quiet and on the sidelines and it was her game, in which she was playing it well. That was until a certain Beaufort stepped in.

He had been dared by Cyril, Alistair, and the others to ask her out on a date. They didn't really care how long that he dragged her along. They just wanted him to do it and then break her heart whenever he was ready.

A sick joke it was.

James was expecting that Y/N might have been smart enough not to go on a date with him, considering her nature and those that she hung out with. Ruby was pretty stubborn and didn't like many of the others that went to the school with them. So he had just about expected Y/N to be the same way.

But she wasn't. And so now the two of them had gone on a few dates, the news oh which spreading around Maxton Hall like a wildfire that was too far out of control to contain. And in the end, James was surprised. Dare he say, even shocked.

James had expected her to be just as everyone had assumed her to be. Nerdy. An outcast. But he only saw someone who was insanely smart and had more to say when you got to know her. She was herself. She didn't try to be someone she wasn't. He surprisingly enjoyed listening to her rambling of whatever topic was stuck on her mind on any given day. Y/N might not have been as beautiful as Elaine or any of the other girls within the school, but James thought that she was gorgeous, nonetheless. Her smile. Her laugh. He had become smitten with her, and every single minute he spent with her, the deeper he was digging his own grave. It was a grave he didn't want out of though.

And as the weeks drew on, his friends had consistently waited for him to dump her. In front of the entire school. But he refused to. James kept pushing and pushing it back until his friends started to tease him about actually liking her. Not that they were far from the truth.

It hurt him at first, that he never did defend her. He stayed silent, but his facial expression was neutral. Deep down he didn't like what they were saying about her. He just didn't know how to approach it. But he knew that he had fallen head over heels for her, and there was nothing he could do to stop his descent.

-----

Currently, the two sat outside the manor that Y/N called home with her parents. They rested sideways on a wooden cushioned swing, James' back against the arm of it and Y/N back against his chest. One of his arms was settled around her waist, while the other laced his fingers with her own. He watched as her other hand flew blindly throughout the air, the hand in his own sometimes joining in the fray before going back to his hand, their fingers interlocking once again.

Most people would have probably been disturbed by her insane knowledge of things that were not necessarily needed to be known. But as she sat against him, constantly having to take deep breaths as she forgot to breath during her explanation of the "The Odyssey", he could only look enamored. James watched her lips as she spoke, not really paying much attention to what was being said, a soft smile adorned his face.

"Are you listening?" James broke out of his stupor, his eyes moving from her lips to her own eyes.

"Hmm?" he asked.

"So, you weren't paying attention?" she asked.

"Oh, I was. About fifty percent of the time. I heard about Circe turning some of Odysseus' remaining men to pigs and then he technically got kidnapped, was it?" he asked, searching her face for approval. Y/N smiled, and his heart pounded. He smiled back at her. That smile was everything to him.

"Yea. She kept him for ten years. Then he was finally able to leave. Although, Poseidon still posed a threat because obviously Odysseus killed his son." And Y/N continued to ramble, and James went back to adoring her like she was the only woman on the planet. Elaine be damned. The arranged marriage wasn't anything. It wouldn't be anything. Not if he couldn't have the one currently in his arms.

James leaned his head down, pressing a kiss to the corner of her mouth, lingering for a few seconds, before pulling back. His gaze was met with a frozen Y/N, and a smug grin had adorned his face.

"While I know have your attention. I do apologize love, for interrupting your rambling, but Alistair is having a party in a few nights, if you'd like to attend with me."

"Oh, I don't know. My parents have that gala to host in a few nights and I don't know if they would want me around. I can talk to them though?" She suggested. Y/N eyes had widened slightly, growing nervous already at the thought of attending Alistair's party. She knew where she stood amongst the others at Maxton. James gave her a tiny nod, his thumb rubbing across her knuckles.

"Of course. Do what you have to. In the meantime, I should be going. Parents are expecting me home a bit early tonight."

Y/N nodded and stood up first, extending her hand to James as he followed. He looked down at their joined hands, before staring at her face, flashing her a smile as she looked up at him and flashed one back. Yea. He could get used to that.

On their way through the house, James politely bid her parents farewell, before the two walked out to the front where Percy waited for James. They came to a halt next to the vehicle, and as he turned to look at her, he bowed his head down to press his lips against hers. A soft lingering kiss in which she melted into.

"I will see you tomorrow. Let me know whenever you can if you can come to the party."

"Will do, pretty boy." Y/N flashed another smile. He pressed another kiss to her forehead, before turning around and climbing into the vehicle. James watched her in the window of the vehicle, all the way up until she was no longer visible. When he finally turned around in his seat, he caught Percy's gaze in the rearview mirror. James could only smile as he looked away. The two of them both knew he was head over heels for her.

"Not a word, Percy."

------

"James!" Y/N hurried her pace to catch up to James. He stopped briefly, turning around to look at her before he entered the main doors of Maxton, waiting for her.

"Good morning, Love." He grabbed her hand, pressing a kiss to her knuckles.

"Good morning, handsome. Oh, I talked to my parents about the party. They would like my help for an hour or two. But after that, I'm free to go. They were surprised that I asked. In fact, I think they were excited." James looked down at her with a smirk.

"You're a goody two shoes."

"Apparently they're hoping for a rebellious stage." Y/N shrugged, smiling back up at James.

"I wasn't sure if you'd get back to me in time about it." James said. His hand settled on the back of her back, guiding the two of them through groups of students.

"Parents have been busy. I wasn't able to talk to them until I left for school this morning. Sorry it's such a late notice."

"No need to be sorry, just glad you can make it." He answered. They appeared outside of her first class for the day. James stared at her with soft smile, receiving one back.

"Have a good day, gorgeous. I'll see you tonight at the party." He mumbled against her lips, before backing away, flashing her a smile. Y/N smiled back, before walking into the classroom.

----

The time for the party came and for Y/N to say that she was anxious, was an understatement. She would be over dramatic and claim that she was fatally anxious about it, even if that was not such a thing.

Heads turned to look at her as she ventured through the house. She cowered slightly, meeting some gazes and avoiding others. Most actually didn't seem to care, while others had glowered at her. Trying to find James through the crowd proved to be just as difficult as she expected. Y/N released a quiet sigh.

Across the room, where Elain was trying to get his attention, James got a glimpse of her as she walked into the room. He wasn't trying to be cliché, but as he stared at her as the array of colors filled and rotated around the room, the world paused for several seconds. She and everything that she was, was his. He couldn't let that go. No matter the dare he had taken apart in. He couldn't go through with it. Now now. Not ever.

His mouth parted slightly, and his cheeks heated up in a blush.

Y/N was a sight to behold and he knew he couldn't part with her, damned what his friends and the rest of Maxton would think.

He pushed past many in the crowd, slowly making his way to her. James kept his eyes attached to her face, drinking her in and drowning in her appearance. As he drew closer to her, his heart hammered faster against his rib cage.

She was his.

James came to a stop behind her at the same time she unexpectedly took a step back. Y/N collided with his chest and she immediately turned around, scared to see who it might have been.

"James" She let out a sigh of relief.

"Hello, love. Finally made it, I see." A teasing glint in his eye.

"Yea. Sorry. My parents held me back a few extra moments to finish something for their gala. But I'm here now."

"That you are." The two stared at each other for several moments, smiles on their faces, before James motioned to the dance floor, and grabbed her hand as he walked past her, dragging her along with him.

The two started dancing, their bodies almost moving at one. The pop song playing decided their moves for them. The two didn't have much finesse between the two of them, but their moves had complemented each other. They stayed pretty close together, never moving more than a foot away from each other at a time. They were smiling and never broke eye contact unless needed. The two of them were enamored in that moment, enjoying the moment as it came to them.

And then the pop song gave way to a slow song, and they stood in the middle of the dance floor, breathing heavily as they gazed upon each other. As the slow song continued, James edged closer, his arms wrapping her waist, pulling her closer as she wrapped her arms around his neck, playing with the hairs at the nape of his neck. The two of them swayed together for several seconds, before James used his hands to twirled her around, now holding her with her back against his chest. Y/N turned her head to look at him as he laced his fingers through hers. They swayed for several seconds, before the moment was cut short by Elain, who thought to "accidentally" dump her drink on Y/N.

Y/N let out a gasp as Elain said a fake apology, catching a glare from James.

Y/N watched as Elain walked away, a pep in her step, tossing a smug look over her shoulder before she was out of sight. Embarrassed, she frowned, turning her head to look at James.

"I'm think I'm done for the night. I should probably get home and change out." James nodded, a hand still settled on her waist.

"I left my coat somewhere. I can go grab it and me and Percy can take you home." Y/N nodded.

"I'll wait for you outside by the pool." And how that was the bad idea, for the moment she got outside and began waiting for James, Cyril caught sight of her. He advanced on her, wrapped his arms around her to help prevent a fight, and begun tugging her towards the pool.

"Cyril! No please!" She begged.

"Aawww. The nerd doesn't know how to swim, does she?" James came back outside just as Cyril got to the edge of the pool with her, catching sight of the moment.

"Cyril! No!" But before James could act further, Y/N was in the pool. She didn't resurface, and others around them just watched. It was Jame's turn to start to panic.

James ran towards the edge of the pool, before diving in. Upon submerging, he could see Y/N panicking. She reached out a hand for him to grasp onto as he swam towards her, and within seconds, they resurfaced. Besides being already wet, steady tears rolled down Y/N's face as she continued to panic. James hushed her.

"It's okay. Breathe. Just breath. I got you."

And as he trudged out of the water with her, he sent a scowling glare towards Cyril, walking away from the party and towards the car.

On the car ride home, his hand settled on her thigh, her fingers finding homage in his hand, before explaining the story of her brother, who was killed in a boating accident years before she started to attend Maxton.

------

Y/N had though things were good and normal, especially between her and James. They were happy. They made each other happy. So when she walked by what she presumed to be an empty classroom and heard voices, she stopped momentarily.

And she wished that she didn't, for the voices were going on about the dare James had taken part in, trying to date her and how he hadn't broken up with her yet.

Her world shattered. Y/N stood in the hallway for several minutes, tears rolling down her face as she thought back to the last few weeks and how happy she was. Not only that, but how happy she was James and how much she thought he had been happy.

Was it a lie? Was everything he felt for her a lie? Was there any truth to any of it.

Y/N refused to go to school the second half of the week. She couldn't confront James, as she wasn't sure how to go about it, but he knew something was wrong. That much was evident from the numerous phone calls and texts messages gone unanswered. Even then, she could tell he was panicking. But she let him bask in it.

Other than her parents, who supported whatever she wanted to do in that moment, Ruby and Lin were the only ones who knew. And they had made it quite clear to James where he stood, and that although he was already an asshole, pretending to love someone was a dick move.

And that's how he found out.

James' heart had dropped into his stomach, wondering how she might have found out. He had texted the guys lately about it. He hadn't even talked to them in person about it for quite some time, although he did get subtle comments made when he and Y/N were seen together. So he had deduced that the only way she could have heard about it, was by overhearing about it from someone else. But in the end, it didn't matter hoe she found out. All that mattered was that he fucked up, and there was no telling if he'd be able to fix it. The thought of that alone sent his heart twisting into knots.

James had continuously tried and tried to reach out to Y/N. She hadn't blocked him, as his texts and calls still went through. He had almost thought she answered one call, but then had changed her mind and ended it before anything could be said.

His world was shattering around him, and he had no one else but himself to blame. James became distracted. Had even turned a bit bitter toward his friends. It wasn't their fault, he should have came clean to her. It still would have caused issues, but then they had more of a chance of being fixed than now.

To say he was scared was an understatement.

James Mortimer Beaufort was completely and utterly, terrified.

James was trying everything in his power to fix things. He sent letters to her humble abode. Voice messages left in her inbox on her voice were amongst these, and he was surprised when never he reached the limit.

What he didn't know was that if there was anything Y/N listened to during that week, it was those. She listened to his apologies as she laid in bed, her breakfast forgotten beside her and tears becoming a river on her cheeks.

She had several questions, still unanswered. All of his attempts to get back with her, even if she never called anything off in the first place, made her wonder if he truly did care. But if he did, why was he a part of the dare in the first place. Why didn't he come clean? Most importantly. Why was she such an idiot?

And when she finally went back to school?

She avoided him like the bubonic plague.

He tried many attempts to get her to stop and listen to him. Most times he was left alone as she avoided him. She would pull her wrist out of his grasp and carry on, as if he wasn't even there. Sometimes though, he hoped that she would listen, as she would stop, turn to look at him, and wait several seconds as tears began to swell in her eyes. Then she'd walk away, only leaving James to wish he had spoken a bit quicker.

And every time he saw her back disappear around the corner, he felt as if he was slowly losing her.

And as the Young Beaufort line was beginning to become a reality, he had less and less time to fight for her. Even without that, he knew he was running out of time, and James couldn't let that happen.

-----

"Is he still trying to talk to you?" Ruby's voice sounded from the speaker of Y/N's phone. She sat on her bed, picking at her nails, a book lying forgotten next to her.

"Yea, he is."

"Didn't you end things?" Ruby asked, and as Y/N sat there and thought about it. She realized that she technically didn't. Did she want to? Did he do it already? It didn't seem likely as he was still talking to her, but maybe it was still part of the ruse.

"Not technically. No." It was silent for several seconds and Y/N wondered if the phone call ended.

"You're serious?"

"Yup."

"Y/N-"

"Don't." She started. Y/N had already gotten enough shit from other students since being back. The bullying had heightened tenfold.

She had an interaction with two girls within the event committee. Y/N didn't care to know their names because she didn't like them anyways. But they had both dumped their drinks on her clothes, prompting her to leave classes early today.

And what made it worse, as she walked away from the situation? She locked her teary eyes with James. He glowered at the girls who had consistently belittled and bullied Y/N throughout the week. James had opted to give Y/N space, but this time, he couldn't.

He had followed Y/N out of the room and quickly caught up to her. He tried to initiate contact, but she could only turn around and shove him away, crying and screaming at him to leave her alone.

"I don't know what to believe." Y/N finally spoke again to Ruby, who continued to listen on her side of the call. "He's doing everything to fix things, but I don't know if it's apart of a ruse to further the rewards of the dare." She explained, her voice cracking slightly.

"Does he sound genuine?"

Y/N thought to herself for several moments.

"That's the confusing part. He sounds completely geuine."

------

And finally, it was the night of the Victorian donor gala. Y/N had stuck close to Ruby and Lin. She had stayed quiet, slowly drinking her champagne as she conversed with a few students and professors.

She would watch the couples down below slow dancing to songs, and her heart ached because even after everything, she had wished her and James were down there.

"Stop thinking about it." Ruby came up beside her. "Be free tonight." Y/N listened as Ruby talked to her, distracting her. Until it wasn't Ruby distracting her, but a certain someone else. Y/N stared past Ruby down to the ground floor, where she could see James looking around. What he was looking for, she wasn't quite sure. That was, until James looked up, caught her gaze, and held it. His facial expression softened as he looked at her, and that was when Y/N knew who he was here for her.

Her.

Ruby saw that she was distracted and turned to see what she was looking at. She looked down at James. James eyes never left Y/N though. Ruby finally turned back to Y/N eith a heavy sigh.

"I think it's finally time you go talk to him." The comment broke Y/N out of her stupor, in which she didn't hesitate much as she slowly started her descent down the stairs.

It felt like forever before she finally ended up front of James.

"Why are you here?" She asked.

"I came to apologize."

"What about the Young Beaufort line?" James was surprised that she cared enough to ask about it.

"It doesn't matter in this moment."

"Then if not that, then what does?" She asked.

"You." James barely let Y/N finished asking the question before he responded. Y/N stared at him for several seconds, tears swelling up in her eyes.

"Why?" She finally asked.

"Truth?" He asked. Y/N nodded. All she wanted was the truth.

"I didn't expect to fall in love with you." James explained.

"And how am I expected to believe you?"

"You don't have to. Just, please, let me explain myself. And then afterward, if you want nothing to do with me, then I'll leave you alone. I promise." Y/N pondered what he said, before she finally nodded.

A slow song started to play, and the two looked at each other.

"May I?" He asked. "If this is the last time we are to do anything together, I'd like one last dance." Y/N's heart swelled, although she hated to admit with the circumstance. She took a few steps closer him, allowing it be his cue. He wrapped his arms around her waist, and she wrapped her around his neck. The two started to slow dance.

"I don't know where to begin."

"From the beginning." He nodded, in agreement.

"Okay. So, it was a dare." He confirmed. "Cyril, Alistair and the others dared me that I couldn't get you to go on a date with me. I was honestly surprised that you did."

"I don't see the bad in people. You're a good person, James, and that's what I saw. I saw your caring personality beneath everything else and I fell in love with it." James stared at her as she spoke.

"Right." He cleared his throat. "Well, I honestly didn't expect to fall in love with you."

"Genuinely?"

"Genuinely." He confirmed.

"Then why didn't you say something sooner? This could have been avoided." He nodded, agreeing.

"I know. I was just scared. I wasn't sure how you would react, so I went on, hoping you wouldn't find out because I didn't want to risk the potential of losing you."

"But you might lose me know." He heart fell. Was this it? James swallowed thickly before looking at the floor in between their feet as they continued to slowly dance. "Hey."

James looked back up at her and in his expression, she could see that he was terrified.

"I never did technically end the relationship." She gave him a small smile. "Sure, things will need to be worked on and trust reinstated, but I'm willing to work through-" James didn't let her finish what she was saying, enveloping her lips into a searing kiss, in which it only took her seconds to melt into it.

------

Tag list:

@honethatty12 @lifeonawhim @ashamedtobewhitemanswhore27 @maryvibess @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @imasimptoowth @sillyfreakfanparty

[pinkestofpanthers]

you snooped through my wallet? | scott summers

pairing: scott summers x fem!reader warning(s): i would say this is pretty angsty? scott being a little avoidant, logan is kinda mean in this one? lots of fluff and comfort though! i should also mention reader is not a mutant! i could not think of any special powers i wanted to include.

if someone were to ask you, you would tell them you knew everything about the students scott taught at xavier's school for gifted youngsters. he even told you about his coworkers and their beautiful abilities. you always listened to his stories with an open mind and a smile on your face. you swore you fell in love a little more each time he spoke so passionately about what he does.

now, if someone were to ask one of scott's students or coworkers what they knew about you, they'd either stare blankly or laugh in their face. you see, scott didn't think of you as a secret, if there was anything scott was more passionate about than his job, it was you.

so why did it seem like he was hesitant to tell everyone about your relationship?

it made no sense to you. when scott first asked you to be his girlfriend, you raced back to your apartment and immediately called your mom. your gloating got to a point where you had your own coworkers asking where they could "find one like him". perhaps you boasted about your lovely boyfriend a bit too much, because now you were starting to feel like a major issue was rising in the relationship.

that was until late one night when you heard a soft knock on your door. you shuffled out of bed, grabbing a kitchen knife on your way, just in case there was a polite masked murderer on the other side of the door. checking through the peephole, you're instantly met with red lenses. letting out a sigh of relief, you undo the deadbolt and open the door wide enough to let scott in. you see his eyebrows quirk up as he spots the weapon in your hand,

"you can never be too careful, summers," you respond, leading him into your living room and turning on your lamp.

"who would gently knock on your door at this hour?" he asked, sitting down on your loveseat sofa.

"my other boyfriend," you quipped, shooting him a teasing glare. "water?"

"i'm okay for now. you seriously aren't gonna ask why i'm here?" he watches you as you move. right now, he wished you'd just stay in one place. your pacing and opening cabinets and fridges was making him more nervous than he already was.

"well, i didn't get a 'you up' text, so i'm going to assume this isn't a late night booty-call," you spoke and took a seat right next to him.

"i'm afraid not, either way if that was the case i wouldn't have given you the chance to get that glass of water," he joked and you only scoffed, taking a sip from said cup in your hand.

"how cute, scotty," you playfully rolled your eyes. "what's up? everything okay? i do appreciate any chance i get to see my beautiful boyfriend, but not when we have plans to see each other in...five hours," you finished and could see the man before you tense up a bit.

"do you think that i could do more for you?" he blurted out, fidgeting with his hands. you were a bit puzzled, you had never seen scott so nervous. and this was someone who was normally so confident that he didn't even need to ask you what you wanted to do, he had reservations and plans made.

"baby, relax a little bit," you started, setting your water down on your coffee table. "where is this coming from? what you mean 'more'? you do more than enough already."

"like, bring you around to the mansion. have you meet my students, meet charles of all people. do you think i'm ashamed of you?" he continued to ramble and you had to stop him.

"okay, i seriously need you to take a deep breath, hon. what's going on? what's got you so in your head?" your eyes scanning over him for some type of clue.

he let you know about the past few hours spent at the mansion.

an issue that plagued xavier's school for gifted youngsters was the topic of dinner. you would think they'd have bigger things to worry about than what they were going to be eating for the night, but you would sadly be mistaken.

"i don't know scott, i'm not really feeling pizza tonight," ororo spoke, flipping through the pages of whatever book she picked up recently.

"okay, what about from that indian place we all like? you were talking about their samosas the other day!" he replied. takeout was pretty rare at the mansion, everyone having their own regimen and meal preps for each day. today was not one of those days, considering that the team had dealt with a difficult mission earlier. so of course, not a lot of thought was put into dinner.

"if there is nothing else you can think of, then i guess so. you paying?" she looked to him, setting her book down for a brief moment.

"if it will make you agree, then i don't mind. let the others know, need to order before it's too late," he said while grabbing a menu.

with the amount of food ordered, no one was expecting a speedy delivery. that's why everyone hurried off and found something to busy themselves with while waiting. including scott, who went up to his room to make sure he'd call you for the night. he told you about the class he taught earlier that day, the mission he had been on a few hours ago, and how he was planning on ending his night. he even promised you that he would see you tomorrow, suggesting the two of you head to the county fair that was being held outside of town. though he wished he could have stayed on the phone with you forever, he ended the call and hurried downstairs. the rustling of paper bags and chatter filled his ears. the food was definitely here.

"hey, everyone. sorry i wasn't downstairs when they got here, i would have paid. that was all sorted out though, right?" he asked after apologizing, feeling a bit bad that he couldn't answer the door himself.

"don't worry, bub," logan spoke, "you didn't need to hurry up and end your phone call with princess charming."

"excuse me?" scott asked, looking at the man like his mutant powers made him grow three additional heads.

"leave the delivery guy's tip out the next time you rush off to take a phone call is all i'm gonna say," the man replied.

"you snooped through my wallet, logan? seriously?" with this, the rest of the kitchen got quiet, everyone's attention turning to the two men.

"i didn't! word travels pretty fast here," was all logan mumbled out, and turned to face jean.

"jean? you went through my wallet?" scott turned to his former girlfriend, who looked almost speechless.

"okay, i did! but i wasn't 'snooping'. like logan said, you didn't leave the delivery guy's tip. so i thought if i just went in and got an extra five it would be fine. was a bit shocked when i saw the girl, though," she explained.

"well, we can't all be hung up on the past," scott bit back, and this made jean sigh and logan scoff.

"for your information, my girlfriend and i are just fine," logan retorted and stepped in front of scott, blocking jean from his sight.

"what's that supposed to mean?" scott raises his voice just a bit, not wanting to scare anyone away.

"it means that you have a picture of a girl we can only assume is your girlfriend in your wallet and for some reason, tonight was the first time any of us even knew of her existence. everything okay at lover's lane, bub?" logan questioned, looking at scott defiantly.

"don't talk about her!" scott warned him, trying to push past the man.

"you're right, you're right. you shouldn't speak on people you don't know, scotty," logan teased and it only made scott cringe.

after a long pause hung in the air, everyone went back to situating themselves for dinner. if anything, they'd be nosy about scott's new girlfriend and his little argument with logan after their stomachs were full.

scott didn't even want to eat. he felt his appetite ruin as logan spoke about you. it didn't help that logan spoke so highly of his ex-girlfriend, but for him to not even know you and think he can make assumptions about you and him was enough to put scott off for the rest of the night.

he excused himself after finishing what he could from his meal. making his way back up to his room, he spotted ororo about to walk into the library.

"you okay?" she asked, just wanting to check in on him.

"besides feeling like the shittiest boyfriend alive? i think i'm doing okay," he tried to laugh it off, but the joke fell flat.

"listen," ororo started, "i don't think you're a terrible boyfriend. i think that the line of work you put yourself in is not one that you planned on exposing your girlfriend to, at least not now. she's not a mutant, right?"

scott nodded and ororo continued,

"bringing her around here would be lovely, and i of all people would love to meet her. i need to pick her brain and see how she deals with you," she laughed and successfully got a chuckle out of scott. "but this is why we set boundaries, and have little relationship milestones. don't let anyone make you feel awful because you're doing the right thing and going slow with her, okay?" ororo asked, hand landing on scott's shoulder to offer him some type of comfort.

"thanks, ororo. a part of me just doesn't want her to feel like she needs to worry about me being here. i still work and live with my ex-girlfriend, and for her to be reminded of that every time she comes here isn't something i want her to overthink about. i don't want it to hurt us," scott ranted, finally revealing all his fears and the main reason why he didn't want to introduce you so soon.

"don't you think it might hurt you both more if you don't introduce her and keep hiding her from this place?" it was almost as if all the lights went off in scott's head, and he finally understood he shouldn't continue hiding one part of his life that he cherished from the other.

ending the conversation off, he thanked ororo for her advice and promised her that she'd get to meet you sooner than she expected.

"i'll hold you to it," the woman smiled back as she disappeared into the dimly lit library.

after hearing him recount the entire night to you, you took a deep breath and found the hand of his that was closest to you, taking it in your grasp. you brought it up to your face and kissed it over and over. you hoped it would calm him down, but scott would tell you that your lack of a spoken response worried him a little bit.

"i think," you finally spoke, "that for a while, i was sort of offended that i was this hidden part of you. i felt like every time i would mention a friend of yours, or ask how a certain student was doing, you'd close yourself off. i mean, i'm no mutant but i felt like it was something you were uncomfortable with me mentioning? so i backed off," you explained.

"it also didn't help when you'd mention that there was an upcoming gala you had to go to, or that the mansion was hosting some kind of small party, and i'd sit and wonder if i was ever going to get an invite," you finished, letting go of everything that was weighing you down for the past month.

scott looked defeated, and you could tell he was feeling bad. though you wanted to tell him that he there was no need to continue beating himself up about it, you wanted to give him time to speak for himself.

"i just...what i do is really special to me. and you're incredibly special to me. i have this weird feeling that if i introduce you to everyone, things might fall apart," he let out, and you looked at him sympathetically.

"you'll never know if you don't try, honey," you whispered to him as you kissed his cheek.

it was decided then. scott knew he wanted to introduce you sometime soon, but didn't know how soon. he asked you if you would be comfortable meeting everyone after the little trip you two were taking tomorrow. you could only smile and tell him it was perfectly fine with you.

as scott watched you interact with those living in the house, he doesn't understand why he never wanted these two important parts of his life to interact with each other. it was endearing, truly. watching you laugh with rogue, go back and forth with logan, and even answer all of ororo's questions. while conversing with jean, his eyes met yours from across the room and you could only grin back at him. he doesn't know what he was ever scared of. though his nerves died down a little bit, there was still one person that scott was a bit anxious for you to interact with.

"excuse me," you two heard as you made your way back into scott's arms. turning around, you felt scott's grip on your waist tighten, and your eyes met with the man who was before you.

"hello! you must be-" you excitedly chirped before he politely interrupted,

"professor charles xavier. it is so wonderful to finally meet you," the older man answered with a warm smile.

a/n: hello everyone! i hope that you enjoyed what you've read! i've been searching for scott fics all over and have found almost nothing so i decided to just write one on my own. i haven't written a full fic in so long so please be kind. thank you so so much!!! <3

[moondirti]

Hellloooo🖤 I’m the anon who asked about the Safehouse story!

My brain, unfortunately, is not nearly as wrinkly as yours so I cannot come up with creative ideas like you 😂 BUT! I have a few ideas? Maybe? If you can call them that lol.

Was the spanking the first physical interaction they had? What did the morning after that look like?

What happens if reader has a nasty mental health episode & tries to hide it from Ghost?

Does the pet thing progress? I think we all know that Ghost has a thing for the pet play. I don’t even care, that’s totally canon for me at this point.

Would you ever consider writing about the general dynamic they have? Like the “rules” Ghost might have for them?

Totally and completely a self indulgent ask from someone who just had to pull themselves out of a nasty mental health episode lmao I’m so sorry please ignore this if it’s annoying or dumb!

shh i love all of these. i have so many thoughts now / prev

cw: dubcon d/s lifestyle. petplay. controlling behaviour. possessiveness. panic attacks. toxicity. noncon collaring. financial manipulation. mention of self harm. brief fluff.

Your thing with Simon is hard to contextualise.

Or even understand, really.

Parts of it are welcome. He asserts himself in a way you haven't found in the nobodies you've hooked up with previous, happy to fuck you dumb if it means you'll surrender yourself completely. Which you do. You listen intently and follow every direction he gives in bed, and as a reward he wrings orgasm after orgasm from your squirming body. You cum more in one week than you have in the past month, never not naked and sore, wrists tender from where he anchors his hand to keep them pinned above your head. You hear puppy more than your own name, at this point. And it's a concerning because– Well...

You don't mind it.

But you still don't like him.

It isn't like you necessarily need to like your partners in order to have a good time, but it certainly helps if you can tolerate them beyond a dick-in-hole condition. Simon is an anomaly in that he is the worst person you know, whilst also serving as the best lay you've ever had.

That is to say, his habits haven't changed. He's a fucking terror to live with. Nightmare flatmate, the type you see strangers complain about on reddit forums or hear in a friends story from their sister's husband's cousin. Not something you would take seriously until you live the experience – now existing as a sore, precautionary tale you'll no doubt be pitching to anyone also considering subleasing their place as a safe house.

Perhaps it's made worse by the sexual element you share. Before, he had just been your average perverse man, stealing clothes and walking in on you in the bathroom. Now, it seems that sleeping with him has given him the go-ahead to push that behaviour to an extreme. He'll pat your ass while you go about your business, or tug your hair when you raise your voice. Treats you like a pet that has yet to be debarked; just a silly, sub-human way of entertainment.

You can't help but feel you enabled it. But no–

The pet play is cute when he's drilling your brains out – and perhaps only because you can't think straight enough to raise concern – but you're not a dog. Nor do you want to be treated like one throughout all hours of the day. The onus is on him for not catching the hint.

But of course, accountability isn't in his lexicon.

Things only get worse from there.

"An' where d'you think you're going?"

You're halfway out of the door when he catches you leaving.

If you had been more iron-willed, you would slip out and scurry away before he can continue whatever spiel he has stirring. Instead, it's instinct to shrivel in on yourself, clicking the door shut before turning to face the behemoth waiting in the foyer.

"Out." You huff, intent on cold-stoning him. But it's a fools game when your opponent in the broad-shouldered lieutenant – for he merely cocks his head, waiting your silence out with more silence, and it's all you can do to bite your tongue against the deluge of excuses that pile up. "My mates thought it would be a good idea to catch brunch. Y'know– to celebrate the start of summer break. It's a nice day out so..." You gesture to your attire, like you have any reason to justify a sundress to some man you are in no way committed to.

But you can read the possessive gleam of his eyes as they take stock of your appearance: from your expensive mules, up your moisturised legs, to the low cut of your décolletage. It's easy to connect it to that look he had when you came back home that fateful night, the look of warning before he'd taken you over his lap and slapped your ass raw.

And for some odd reason, you're compelled to dig yourself out of trouble.

"Hm. It is a nice day, innit?" You nod a bit too quick. He stalks closer. "Lots of people out." Your nod is a little less enthusiastic. He's centimetres away now. "Some bad, bad men too."

He lifts the ends of your dress, slowly. Your next words quiver on their way out your chest. It's alarming to find that they don't sound nearly as assertive as you intend for them to be, not like they do horny.

"Where are you going with this?"

Your skirt pools around your hips now, held up by one hand as the other smooths over with the gusset of your panties.

"You plan on lettin' them have at this puppycunt? Have I not been givin' it enough attention?" He mockingly coos, pressing harder against the mound between your legs. Your knees grow weak. Not of your own accord, but weak nonetheless, and you have to hold onto his wrist to keep yourself upright. "Is tha' it?"

"N-No–"

"No? But that's what they'll think seeing you walk around like this, silly thing. Poor, neglected mutt, they'll say. Don't have a firm hand to keep 'er in line." Simon tuts, releasing his grip on your dress to pull something out of his back pocket. With the way he crowds into you, you can't crane your head to see what it is. "Now we can't have tha'. I spoil my girl rotten, wouldn' you say?"

"Yes. Yes but–"

"No buts, pup. Have ta stake my claim on you somehow." Something clicks. All too suddenly, you're made aware of the new weight on your neck. It tightens against the column of your throat – not enough to constrict your airways, but enough so that it hinders the way you move. "There we go. So pretty like this."

Panic seizes you, the steel fist of paralysis capturing your muscles in a vice-like clutch. Even as Simon pulls away, you're almost scared to find yourself in the nearest mirror. Scared of what you'll find dangling between your collarbones. There's no mistaking the textured leather that presses against your skin, nor the soft clink of metal hanging from it. No fooling yourself that this is all some cruel joke, not with the sick leer of satisfaction that warps his face.

Stumbling, you navigate to the bathroom and blindly turn on a light.

That cruel fuck.

"Simon," Your voice is devoid of the anger you feel roaring through your veins, circuiting through the frenzied stutter of your heart to find new passion. Instead, you sound horrified. Near hysterical, choking on your own pleas as you run back to the foyer. Your hands tug at the collar clasped around your neck, desperately searching for a buckle that will aid you in ripping it off, despite seeing the lock latched right at the centre that tells of its permanence. What's more, he had it engraved with a crude variation of a dog collar tag. If lost, leave alone. Or else count your days. "S-Simon, Simon please. Fuck– take it off. Take it off, take it off! I don't want this, I don't want... This isn't funny. I'll change if that's what it takes. Please."

Snot bursts from your nose, cheeks wet with a hot mess of tears. You can't suppress the hiccups that interrupt your begging like pathetic shots to the chest, or the weak hits you beat across his pecs. If you could, then perhaps he would give your tantrum more weight.

As it stands, you're nothing but a feral creature resisting training.

"Shhh. Pets can' speak. Pets don't cry." His thumbs press to your under eyes, tamping the flow of brine that mark steady tracks from your lashes. "You'll ruin your makeup like this."

"Si–"

He stare hardens into something dangerous. Against your better judgment, you clamp your lips shut.

"That's it. You're s'good when you listen to me, pup." Once he's sure you've stopped crying, he removes his thumbs to instead push one into your mouth. You can taste the salty residue of your tears on his fingertips. "Now, this is the bes' of both worlds, see? You can go see your friends with this on. I know pets need their playtime, af'er all."

You arch your back in protest, but all that does is bring you closer to the lieutenant. He misinterprets that entirely, of course, and a small smile breaks his face like you've agreed to his terms. A heavy palm pats your ass.

"S'jus' so you don't forget who you belong to." He chuckles. "An' if your friends like the idea, then I have a few friends for them."

You make it one block before hightailing back home.

Nothing in you wanted to give that bastard the satisfaction, but he made it so that whatever you chose to do – stay home or leave wearing a symbol of his ownership – he'd end up triumphant. Naturally, then, you opted for the lesser of two evils: to leave his vicinity immediately. Besides, you'd promised your girls you'd see them after going AWOL the past fortnight, and you knew you'd get an earful if you decided to reschedule at the last moment.

You thought you would convince them it was a bet. That the collar is just some silly joke you have to bear for the day after a football match didn't go in your favour.

But you make it one block before a tradie on his lunch break catcalls you (you about that freaky ting, beautiful?) and decide to change course completely.

You arrive back at your flat without further incident. Ego stung from the various odd looks you received on your way, but nothing as egregious as being singled out as a freak in the midst of a crowd occurs again.

Still, your hands shake as you push your key into its slot.

Which progress to full body tremors as you turn it in place.

Thankfully, Simon isn't waiting on you on the other side of the door. He sits, manspreading on the couch instead, focus zeroed in on the telly that broadcasts Fulham v Man City. When he doesn't look away, you allow yourself to hope he hadn't heard you come in. But it's a naive pool to place your faith in. Nothing escapes the man, and soon enough, his tone of humoured indifference shatters the silence you've been precariously trying to keep.

"Miss me 'lready?"

A wretched sulk, pit of anger hollowing out anew. You swiftly snatch your laptop from the breakfast bar before storming to your room, making sure to lock the door firmly behind you.

The website is bookmarked. Taunting. Sublet your home as a safehouse for our armed forces. Serve your country and help soldiers find refuge. You would laugh if you weren't so single-minded, typing in your email and password upon being prompted to. You don't have to deal with this shit any longer, nor do you intend to. If you remember correctly, there had been a way to report any problems you face. If you phrase yours right, you might just get Simon pulled from your services.

Good dick be damned.

But when you hit enter to sign in, an error message blinks in red.

Account does not exist.

Which is fine. Shit like this happens all the time. There's no reason to work yourself into a panic, you probably just used the wrong email.

So you try your alternate. Account does not exist.

It feels unlikely, but maybe you'd created it under your school email to give yourself credibility. Only–

Account does not exist.

Your blood pressure is no doubt sky high by now. Other symptoms of stress already start to wrack through you – blurry vision, chest aches, difficulty breathing. Your hands sweat excessively as you dig for the customer care number you're sure exists somewhere, efforts impaired by the ever-present weight of the collar around your neck. You wonder if Simon can smell your anxiety like a predator does its prey. If he's in the other room, salivating, waiting for you to wobble out of your room to go for the kill. Some part of you – a needlessly paranoid part – rests on the conclusion that this is somehow his fault too.

Your phone already rings in an outgoing call once you blink back to the present. While you've been functioning on autopilot, you must have found a number to call that related close enough to your issue.

And your suspicion is confirmed when an automated voice picks up. You are currently... second... in line.

It takes five minutes. When a placating woman speaks up amidst the nauseating music they have queued, you can hardly contain yourself from word-vomiting onto her. Safehouse signup. Lost account. Need to report an issue. Please. It's urgent.

"Okay ma'am. If you could give me your name, I'll be happy to find the source of your problem today." You can't spell it out any faster. "Alright. One moment, please."

"O-okay." You sniffle miserably.

"I see. I'm sorry to be the one to tell you this, but it seems that you've been pulled from the program after a complaint was lodged against you. Unfortunately I can't provide more detail than that, but if you need anything else, I would be happy to assi–"

You hang up. The poor thing doesn't need to hear the incensed scream that tears from the deepest parts of you, or the following crack as you chuck your cell at the wall. She'd done what she could. It isn't her fault. It was that self-serving bastard that had you blacklisted from the only thing keeping you financially afloat. It is that that self-serving bastard that continues to occupy space inside your home, despite having no real right to it now.

The tantrum isn't near cathartic enough to unfetter you from your prison of aggravation, and you continue to take it out on everything in your near radius. Your duvet and pillows. The lotion you keep by your beside table. Your own skin, nails piercing into the soft flesh of your palms.

And especially the collar constricting your throat, like vines that tighten at the first sign of struggle.

You have to get this collar off. Even if you fail at everything else, you have to get this collar off.

Scrambling off your bed, you turn your room upside down looking for a bobby pin or a knife. One is unquestionably the safer bet, but you know you'll sit for hours trying to pick the lock that keeps you shackled – so when you find the boxcutter sitting at the bottom of your junk drawer, you immediately take it to your neck.

Just as Simon barges into your room.

You're so far gone, you don't even question how this must look to him. In fact, it doesn't occur to you that you locked your door, and that the only way he could've gotten in is by having a replica of your key. No. You merely twist away from the all-encompassing hold he wraps around your arms, determined to keep the boxcutter away from his confiscation until you can slice through the leather.

But you're crying. Visibly, alarmingly unstable. And Simon's breaths are a little faster than normal, faltering in a way they only do when he's close to climax. He must be worried, which is a funny thought, seeing as he's the reason you're in this mess.

"Alright thas– that's enough of that." He grunts after managing to pry the blade from your hand. You hardly mourn the loss, rather crumbling in on yourself as your sobbing escalates. No longer frustrated, nor determined. Just primed into a suffocating panic attack.

Somewhere in your auditory periphery, you hear the clinking of glass. It doesn't register until he holds a vial of lavender extract you keep under your nose, forcing you to inhale the medicinal aroma. Soon enough, your mouth opens to swallow gulps of unscented air alongside it, and the imposed breathing exercise calms you to a point of blubbering calm.

(For someone so apathetic, you admit he handled that expertly.)

That isn't the end of it, though. Moments later, you're lifted off your feet. He cradles you in both arms as he makes his way to your bed, sitting up against the headboard and placing you on his lap. Safe. Undisturbed.

You say nothing, pressing your wet face into his shirt. For comfort, first and foremost, but the makeup that'll undoubtedly stain the white fabric is an added bonus.

"Know this is hard for y'to understand, pup." Simon begins. "Hard for you ta wrap your head around ownership after bein' alone for s'long. I won't punish you for tha'."

"Y-You don't own me." You accuse.

He shakes his head in response, like your mind is truly as little as he claims. Like you're a dog, complete with two ears and a tail, and he plucked you off the street on the condition that you heel.

If anything, he's the stray.

"Oh, but I do." A large hand rubs circles on your back. Never have you been so conflicted, so torn between leaning in and biting back. "Just don't see it yet, pet. Bu' you will, in time. And in the meanwhile, we'll establish some ground rules to help you adjust."

[loosethreadsofyoursoul]

while i will always love and appreciate the bisexual dean winchester agenda, i truly believe that if he was raised differently—or maybe if he grew up today instead—that boy would have been gay. like his love for women in a romantic/sexual context was always such a caricature and was continuously used as a symbol of masculinity that played against the roles assigned to him by his father growing up for the sake of suppressing any queerness he might exhibit. now whether that suppression was purposely written into his character or was a reaction to the character they had created, i’m not sure, but it’s there regardless.

i don’t mean to dismiss the love he felt for cassie or lisa, but particularly with lisa, i’m not sure he was ever in love with her, despite the fact that he did care for both her and ben. i get so frustrated watching the end of s5 because him going to her house and his perfect “apple pie life” being with her in suburbia genuinely came out of nowhere and i’ve never understood a) why it had to happen, and b) why it had to be lisa. but thinking about it in this sense, she was the closest thing he had in his life to everything he was raised to believe he should want by one john winchester, who lost his perfect wife, perfect family, perfect apple pie life and sent all of them down this path in the first place. so of course to dean, his happy ending would be with someone like lisa. but that’s the important part. someone like lisa, not lisa herself. he may have had love for her and he may have been able to picture a life with her, but it wasn’t necessarily because she was everything he wanted; she was a symbol of the things that tore his family apart and so to be with her felt like he was finally able to put some of it back together. and that makes me so sad for him because all of that is a result of the sense of responsibility ingrained in him growing up by john, not something he wanted for himself.

but back to his general attitude towards women, there was an excellent post that said he only acts like the typical womanizer he has a reputation for being around women deemed “stereotypical” by the misogynistic perspective. otherwise, he tends to take on a fairly brotherly role; he doesn’t tend to pursue any women he can “take seriously,” and is more intimidated or impressed by them than anything else. with the exception of cassie (which was pre-series and we never got full context for in the first place), he only ever pursued women with whom he would have a definitive ending—by that i mean women who he knows he’ll never see again or who would have a clearly defined role during the time they’re together that wouldn’t threaten the status quo. and yes these could also be the traits of a commitment-phobe or someone chronically on the move, but for one, sam doesn’t tend to do the same thing (see ruby, amelia, and eileen), and for two, given the things i mentioned already, it makes me consider it more of a result of him not actually being interested in women romantically.

his reaction to women when not purposely used as the butt of a joke or to perpetuate the “womanizer dean winchester” agenda is often so innately fraternal, caring in a way that doesn’t have any expectations behind it. and when there is a romantic context, so much of the relationship can be attributed to the way john raised him and the beliefs he has as a direct result; it’s never simply been built on the foundation of love.

every time he is dismissed as this macho het guy, it also dismisses so much of what makes him a wonderful character, and yes a lot of that is his queerness. so in a world where he didn’t grow up with roles and responsibilities that shaped him into someone he knew his dad hated and forced him to create this character for himself in order to survive? i think he would have been gay and he would have been okay with that.

[ashotofogdensoldfirewhiskey]

Love your fics!!!!!!!! ❤️❤️❤️ Would you consider writing Hinny’s first „i love you”?

Love YOU, anon! I have to confess, I don't know if I answered your prompt, because I did write Hinny's first "I love you" in Ch4 of Someone Else's life. I toyed with writing this moment differently at a different time, but realized I think I'm sort of married to the idea of them confessing it right after the battle, and I couldn't think of a way to rewrite the moment in a way that was meaningfully different. So, I hope you don't mind, I wrote the moment Ron realizes Harry & Ginny are in love, instead:

It’s one of those evenings in late May after the battle - when everything seems to blur together and time ceases to have meaning - that Ron seriously considers the possibility that he might have been a bit thick. 

Ron’s sat in the lumpy armchair by the hearth at the Burrow staring oddly at Harry and Ginny, tucked together on the opposite sofa. Ginny’s got her feet resting on Harry’s lap, and Harry’s absently rubbing her knee. It’s relatively innocent, as far as seating arrangements go, and yet Ron can’t help but stare at the casual intimacy of it anyway. 

They’re back together now. It seems to Ron they must’ve gotten back together the minute they’d had a moment alone after the battle. Ron had left Harry asleep in Gryffindor Tower one minute, and when he’d come back from lunch it had been to find them holding hands in the Common Room. 

“You together again, then?” Ron had asked, later. Harry had merely nodded. And Ron supposed that had been that. 

Ron hadn’t had the mental space to give the matter much more thought since - there’d been funerals (so effing many), and repairing Hogwarts, and Mum crying, and Hermione, and meetings about Auror training… 

He supposes it shouldn’t be surprising that they’re cuddling on the sofa. But, now that Ron at last has the time to think about them for more than a passing moment, he registers that he is surprised. Truth be told, he hadn’t expected it - them. 

And why should he have? Harry hadn’t mentioned Ginny at all, had he? 

Harry had broken it off with her - in public, at a funeral, of all places - and then never mentioned her again. Never intimated he was sad about their relationship ending, or that he missed her, or that he’d hoped they’d be together again when the war ended. It was partially why Ron had blown up on that awful night in that bleeding tent. Harry hadn’t seemed the least bit concerned with Ginny’s safety.

The closest Harry’d come to anything resembling emotion about it all was his last birthday, when Ron had caught them snogging passionately in Ginny’s room - with the door closed. It had seemed callous at the time, to Ron. One last chance to get a snog in before he left her behind. 

Harry and Ginny had only been together a few weeks, after all, much shorter than he and Lavender had been. And while, yeah, it was clear they’d liked each other, how deep could it have been, really? Ron had always assumed it had been new and shallow, maybe mostly physical (as much as that thought disgusted him). Like him and Lavender.  

But it couldn’t have been, could it, if they’d got back together so quickly? 

Just then, Hermione interrupts Ron’s musings by walking in from the kitchen and handing him a warm cup of tea. Ron sees that she’s made it just how he likes it, and smiles at her - she’s always doing thoughtful things like that. 

“Thanks,” Ron says, and drops his arm around her shoulders as she squeezes in next to him on the chair. Her presence beside him feels exactly like the perfectly made cup of tea she's just given him - warm, and sweet, and calming. 

He looks up again, watches Harry press a kiss to Ginny’s temple and mutter something to her with a soft look on his face, watches them smirk and share some private joke, and all at once, everything he’d thought about them subtly shifts and changes color. 

He allows the inkling, the what if to take shape: perhaps Harry and Ginny had always felt like this together - a warm cup of tea in front of the fire. Maybe breaking it off hadn’t been like breaking it off with Lavender had been, but instead had felt like those long cold months after Ron had abandoned Hermione, when Ron had been tortured, wondering whether she was alive, whether he’d ever see her again. 

The worst months of his life. 

Ron stares at Harry. His best mate. His brother. 

Harry hadn’t said anything about Ginny. But then, he hadn’t about Sirius, either, had he? Or his parents. Or Dumbledore. Ron knew that Harry didn’t talk much about his feelings, but he’d always supposed there were some unfathomable losses that you just couldn’t talk about. Having never experienced one himself - well, until now - Ron had thought that might just be the way it was. He assumed he would know if Harry was upset about something else. Something smaller. 

But maybe Ginny hadn’t been something smaller, at all. 

The thought that Harry might’ve been heartbroken on top of all the rest of the shite they’d gone through last year rankles. 

“Harry was cut up when they broke it off, wasn’t he?” Ron mutters to Hermione, jutting his chin toward Harry and Ginny. 

Hermione looks at him as though he’s daft, and he might be. “Of course he was.” She glances over to them to confirm they’re not listening, and then whispers, “I used to catch him staring at the Marauders Map all the time, when he was supposed to be on watch. He’d never tell me, but I think he was… you know, keeping an eye on her.”

The image is so pathetic that at first Ron’s inclined to laugh, but he doesn’t. “Blimey,” he says. “I didn’t… I thought he was alright.”

“Well, you know Harry,” Hermione says, but that’s just what’s bothering Ron, because he’s wondering how it’s possible he hadn’t known this. Hermione takes a long sip of her tea, and then adds, “I’m so happy for them, now, though. They’ve got a chance to be normal.”

“Yeah,” Ron agrees, watching as Ginny pokes Harry’s side playfully and Harry grins. “Normal.”

Ron subconsciously monitors Harry and Ginny for the rest of the evening, the pieces slowly falling into place. The mood is dreadful - it always is, these days - and yet it seems that they’ve carved out a little bubble of contentment in the gloom. A clasp of hands, a nudge to the knee, a sidelong smirk - Ron realizes they’re having a second, silent conversation beneath the family chatter. A private one.  

The wireless is on, covering the ongoing match between Ballycastle and Falmouth. 

“Everton should pull a Krum and catch the Snitch, sod scoring,” Bill says. “Ballycastle needs some dignity.”

“Or,” Ginny interjects, “he could pull a Potter and take a same-side Bludger to the head, miss the rest of the match. Might be kinder.”

“Everton can only dream of pulling a Potter,” Harry says drily. 

“You’re right,” Ginny says. “Only I can do that.”

Harry snorts and Ginny shoots him a playful wink while Bill groans. Ron would ordinarily groan too - he’s staunchly opposed to witnessing them flirt with each other on principle - but tonight… tonight it makes him feel something that isn’t quite happiness, but perhaps its cousin.

Because it occurs to him that they’re always doing that - bantering, setting each other up for jokes. They’d been doing that since before they’d got together, only Ron hadn’t thought anything of it then. Now, though, it strikes him as another piece of evidence he’d managed to overlook in the case he’s building: she makes him laugh. 

The match ends, and with it any pretense they have for staying awake. They all stand and begin their zombie-like drift off to bed, still in that surreal state where none of the loss seems quite real, like they all might wake up from it all at any moment. But they don’t. 

Ron’s in the bathroom brushing his teeth when he hears quiet murmuring in the hall. He slowly lowers his toothbrush, straining to hear. 

Harry and Ginny seem to be loitering outside her bedroom, waiting to use the loo, probably. 

“--wants me to wake up at the crack of dawn tomorrow to reorganize the attic–”

“The attic?” Harry asks. 

“Yeah. Our ghoul put up a real fuss about moving back up there and wrecked it. Got used to living in Ron’s room, I think.”

“Poor bloke.”

“Yeah, mental that anyone would prefer Ron’s room.”

“Have you considered,” Harry asks drily, “that he’s just become a massive Cannons fan?”

Ginny barks out a laugh, and Ron can’t even find it in himself to be offended on behalf of the Cannons. 

“Wow,” Ginny snorts. “Maybe we can plaster the attic with Cannon’s posters. Make him feel right at home.”

They laugh, and Ron finishes brushing his teeth. He clatters loudly so that they know he’s in there, just in case. 

“‘We’ can plaster the attic…?”

“Oh, yeah,” Ginny says casually. “I reckoned you’d want to help.”

“You reckoned I’d want to get up at, what was it, ‘the crack of dawn’?”

“Before the sun, even.” 

“Why would I want to do that?”

Ron makes to dry his hands with the towel hanging by the door. 

“Because,” Ginny answers, “You love me.”

The towel slips from Ron’s hands and falls with a muffled thump to the floor, so that he nearly misses Harry’s dry reply. “Yeah, fair enough.” 

Ron turns his head slowly to stare at the closed door in shock. 

“How long is that going to work for, d’you reckon?” Ginny asks.

“Dunno,” Harry says. “Let’s not test it.”

“Oh, I intend to.”

“You‘ll go mad with power.”

“Nah, I won’t,” Ginny dismisses. “I love you, too, so…”

Then there’s a suspiciously long pause that Ron doesn’t care to examine too closely. He’s too dumbfounded, anyway, by the casual admission of love they’d just thrown at each other, clearly not for the first time. He and Hermione hadn’t even said that to one another yet. They weren’t mental - it’d only been a few weeks since the battle.

And yet, here are Harry and Ginny, clearly comfortable enough with it that they’re already at the point of teasing.

The last piece clinks into place, and Ron realizes they must've felt this way for a long time, must've spent the whole sodding war waiting for each other. And he hadn't had any bloody idea.

Ron shakes his head like a waterlogged dog, and then makes a loud clatter of a job of opening the door so they have time to quit snogging or whatever the hell they’re doing before he has to see it. 

He finds them with put-upon expressions of innocence on their faces, leaning casually against the wall outside Ginny’s door. 

“Took you long enough,” Ginny complains. “What were you doing in there?”

“What were you doing out here?” Ron counters. 

“Kissing,” Ginny says flatly, while Harry looks down at his feet. “Had to do something while you powdered your nose.”

Ron rolls his eyes, though he feels less disgruntled than he would ordinarily. “Well get on with it, loo’s open now.”

“Thanks,” says Ginny, not sounding thankful at all. She turns to Harry. “Night, see you at the crack of dawn!”

She stands on her tiptoes and gives him a quick peck, while Ron pointedly looks away. Then, she takes her turn in the bathroom, leaving Harry and Ron in the hall together. 

Ron looks up at Harry, noting with some amusement the sheepish, guilty expression on his face. For a moment, an overwhelming desire builds in Ron to say something supremely soppy, like Happy for you, mate or I’m glad you’ve got each other or even Why didn’t you ever mention you were in love with my sister? 

But, he thinks better of it, and instead claps Harry gruffly on the shoulder. “G’night, mate.”

“Night. 

[beegomess]

T.R. || The girl who came from hell

Summary:Tom really thought he was above you, but that ends when you realize that you need to put him in his place. Warnings: Just a little toxic relationship.

Requests are open!

Tom's interest in you began in the fifth year at Hogwarts. You were almost like a reflection of him: Slytherin, studious and astute, determined to achieve her goals. The difference between you, however, was in the fact that you had the inheritance that mattered: your last name, power, contacts and money, all coming from your family without any effort.

The approach began during a task of Potions. Since then, they have started to walk together and share their plans. Tom, of course, knew that approaching you was advantageous for his ambitions, initially motivated by pure interest. Over time, the interests of both also became carnal, and soon you were a couple. But make no mistake, you were not naive, maybe you knew Tom better than anyone at Hogwarts and understood the meaning of all that, but you wouldn't mind as long as you had control over it.

His father, however, hated this union at the beginning. Tom didn't have the pure blood so valued by his family, he didn't have the money or an influential family. However, Tom's charm, combined with his ability to persuade, ended up changing the man's opinion. This gave Riddle a renewed confidence, leading him to be possessive with you, in an attempt to ensure that only he could enjoy the prestige and power that his relationship provided.

However, the fact that they are similar in everything, including this, was what made them get closer and fall in love, in the most toxic sense of the word. You thought he saw you as an equal, who respected you in the same way, but you were wrong, and came to discover it in a disgusting way.

You began to notice the way some girls looked at Riddle, and he, being a man, could barely disguise his interactions in his eyes even more attentive, who saw every look given by him to the body of another, every disappearance during the day. It wasn't frequent, but it was remarkable. And today, you expected to put him in his place finally, already possessed with the way you heard a girl bragging about him in the bathroom.

For you, it was fun to provoke him from time to time, flirt with another boy and make him angry with anger. But never, ever, have they gone from silly flirts. You believed that they should be loyal to each other, after all, they had much bigger plans and if they couldn't trust each other, none of that would make sense. Tom, on the other hand, thought he used you, that he had you in the palm of his hand. You were beautiful, and your family definitely helped you in many ways, but he never really took you seriously. Tom needed to think like that, he needed it because that way he would be someone.

And then, in that fateful afternoon, when, when passing through one of the empty classrooms looking for him, you saw, through the small slit of the door, the image of an ordinary student kneeling in front of Riddle, who in turn had her belt and pants open.

His eyes were not filled with tears, but with a deep hatred that was born there. You liked the possessiveness and it was definitely not like that with him, a strange and somewhat sickly relationship that you simply liked, it was almost like a cat and mouse hunt. But maybe I had to bring limits to this game now, maybe Tom didn't really know you as you imagined.

Your heels took you to the interior of the classroom, the shoes echoing on the stone floor, scaring the two present. The girl quickly moved away from Tom, who dressed calmly and waved for her to leave.

Tom's face remained neutral, without any blush or expression of regret.

- It's not the first time this has happened, is it? - His face had a sarcastic smile on his face, frighteningly quiet.

- No. - He replied simply, approaching you slowly, with his hands in his pockets. - I thought you didn't mind, honey. Aren't you the one who keeps flirting with other boys? - Tom smiled slightly, provoking a penetrating look coming from you.

- I've never had sex with any of them. - You paused, holding Tom's hand and pulling him out of the room on a slow walk. - But I'm curious, aren't you satisfied with me, Tommy? - A false sadness dyed your words as you stared at him in the hallway when you were stopped by him.

- Of course I am, dear. You shouldn't have seen that. I'm sorry. - Tom rolled his eyes internally, irritated by the amount of questions, but excellent at lying, saying what he thought you would like to hear to finally get rid of his visible and exaggerated drama.

- That's good, love. But spare me your empty excuses, Tommy, I don't like them lying to me. - Your body approached, still holding your boyfriend's hand and with a gentle smile, continuing your speech. - Just be careful that I don't get tired of you. You wouldn't want that.

His false kindness made Tom's face squirm in fury. He hated being threatened and would not accept being challenged in that way, especially coming from someone he believed to have full control.

- Come on, Tom. We know that you need me more than I need you. That's no secret to anyone, love. - You kissed him on the cheek, running your hands around his neck, watching as a spark of hatred appeared in your eyes.

Those who saw it from the outside could swear that you were swearing your love to each other, given the soft touches and false, but extremely convincing smiles, that you directed to him.

- I don't need to... - Tom started, but his voice interrupted him quickly.

- Yes, you need to. After all, what are you without me, Tommy? Nothing... - You digred. - You don't have the blood, you don't have the money, you don't have the power, nothing. You're nothing but me, dear. And it annoys me to have to say that, but I see that you still don't understand.

Tom felt a whirlwind of conflicting emotions within himself. He, who had always been proud of being undisturbed and cold, now found himself trapped in a network of feelings that he could not control. The wounded pride and anger mixed with a new and disconcerting feeling: insecurity. Never before had anyone challenged his authority and exposed his vulnerability in this way.

As his words echoed in his mind, he felt the control over the situation slip through his fingers. The certainty of his superiority seemed to fall apart, replaced by a painful realization of his dependence on you. He needed you more than he was willing to admit, and that consumed him from the inside out.

- Do you really think you can threaten me like this? - He murmured, his voice loaded with a contained poison as he squeezed one of his arms, taking you to the dark side of the hallway. - You think you know me so well, but you have no idea what I'm capable of doing.

- I'm not threatening you, Tommy. I'm just making it clear how much you need me. - Your voice came out with coldness and a still feigned kindness making him even more angry, his eyes fixed on his, challenging him to deny the truth.

Tom felt the anger boil, but at the same time, a part of him recognized the veracity in the words you said. He couldn't stand the idea of being seen as weak, but there, in front of you, his invulnerability mask was about to fall.

- You may be right. - He admitted with great reluctance, his lips contracting in a fine line. - But never forget, Y/N, that I also know how to play this game. And I don't intend to lose.

You smiled, a smile that mixed triumph and compassion.

- I never expected you to lose, love. I just want you to realize that this game is not just yours. And maybe, if you allow yourself, we can play together. - Your body is released from the grip, depositing a kiss on Tom's lips, feeling all the cold and anger that echoed from him. - Just don't forget that. - You add with a serious face, but soon forming a smile.

With these words, you turned around, leaving Tom alone in the hallway, wrapped in his own reflections and conflicts. He knew that, as much as he hated to admit it, you were the only one who could challenge and balance your world. And, deep down, maybe that's exactly what he needed.

Tom stood there for a moment, watching you move away with decisive steps. His gaze followed every movement of his body as he disappeared in the darkness of the corridor. The discussion had left a bitter taste in his mouth, a mixture of resentment and a strange intensity of desire.

He would never admit it out loud, but the way you challenged him, the way you messed with him, aroused something deep inside Tom. It was as if every confrontation, every exchange of words was a spark that lit the fire he tried to keep under control.

As he revived his words in his mind, Tom felt a mixture of frustration and a growing admiration for his cunning. You knew exactly how to press the right buttons, how to put it against the wall and make it question your own strength and control.

A sigh escaped from his lips as he ran his hand through his hair, trying to lighten the tumultuous thoughts. I couldn't deny that there was something magnetic in you, something that attracted and irritated you at the same time. But love, in the traditional sense, seemed like an unknown and unattainable territory for both. Their lives were dominated by ambitious goals, by the incessant search for power and control, which often shocked and drove them away.

Riddle saw the desire grow within him, not only for his body, but also for the sharp mind and the ambitious goals they shared. It was an attraction based on a kind of admiration, in the tacit understanding of each other's ambitions.

With a resigned sigh, Tom began to walk in the opposite direction to his. It was not the time to surrender to physical desire or to get lost in the traps of possessiveness. It was time to find a way that would take you away from the reins you controlled.

Maybe that moment served you in some way, Tom was starting to see her closer to his own pedestal. However, he wouldn't admit any of that out loud and much less mentally. At that moment he had two conflicting feelings: an absurd desire to get you out of the way or simply nestle in your body, a moment when only he had control, even if this control was consented by you.

______________________________________

masterlist here A/N: I hope you enjoyed this new perspective. I wanted to do something different since I always see Tom coming out on top, haha xoxo, bee✨🫶🏼

[writeyouin]

I dont know if this went through but can I get a valentines day request for tfa sentinel prime falling in love with a g/n human reader?

Sentinel Prime (TFA) X Reader – Making Alliances

Description: After the war between Earth and Cybertron ended, you were recruited to work alongside Sentinel Prime. Yet, he tries to make your job hard, determined to keep on hating humans. Yet, given time, he finds it almost impossible to dislike you, no matter how hard he tries.

A/N – I had such a basic bitch plan for this and instead it turned into one of my longer fics.

Warnings – None.

Rating – T

“Guys, really, it’s fine. I’m fine,” You tried to assure the Autobots.

Optimus, Bulkhead and Ratchet looked at you doubtfully. Bumblebee looked more annoyed.

“Fine? How can you be fine with this? This reeks!” He exclaimed, waving his arms around.

You stifled a laugh at his over-dramatics. “Okay, I’ll admit, I never saw myself working with Sentinel, but… It’s not a terrible idea.”

Although you had your doubts, you believed what you said. Now that the war was over, and Megatron had been defeated, Cybertron had officially launched the Earth Alliance Program. Since the Autobots had been posted on Earth during the war, there was no point denying Alien existence, even though many Cybertronians didn’t think much of humans. Having been stationed on Cybertron for a week while you acclimatised, you had heard the hushed comments about how you weren’t advanced enough to be there, and how weak and fragile your frame was.

When the Autobots had come to your planet, they had faced their share of xenophobia, some of which continued to this day. Now that you were on their planet, you were beginning to get the same treatment.

In an attempt to bring your races closer together, Ultra Magnus had decided it would be best for you to be placed with a high-ranking officer, and as such he had made you Sentinel Prime’s assistant. Although he could have just as easily put you to work with Jazz, or left you with Optimus’ team, you understood his reasoning. If Sentinel could get over his prejudices, then anyone could. Besides, you still had one week left before you were to begin your work. In that time, you were expected to report any struggles that you had living on Cybertron.

In your first week, you had reported that the shower in your specially-made apartment was too hot, the cooking facilities were inadequate, and that you needed your own mode of transport so nobody else had to help you get around.

All the issues were addressed relatively quickly and now you had a motor-scooter which ran on autopilot. The vehicle did have a function for you to drive it yourself, but it had been dictated that you could not use that unless it was an emergency, otherwise you would be in breach of the first Cybertronian law written with humans in mind; it seemed that the governing body didn’t trust you to drive, though their fear and prejudice didn’t bother you too much.

“Are you even listening to me?!” Bumblebee waved his arms erratically.

While you had been lost in thought about your new position, he had been ranting about what a scrap heap Sentinel was.

You held up your hands placatingly, feeling a tiny pang of sadness that Prowl wasn’t there. It used to be him that ended Bumblebee’s tirades but… Well, everyone knew that war had its casualties; you just wished that it didn’t have to be someone you knew.

“Yes, I’m, listening. But seriously Bumblebee, you don’t have to worry about me. It’s just a job.”

‘A job I feel massively underqualified for,’ You added in your head, thinking how you had only been chosen because you met the Autobots by chance and they trusted you as their second human liaison.

Sari would also start her life on Cybertron, but seeing how she was techno-organic and only a teenager, she was going to school to learn about her Cybertronian heritage and culture.

Jazz and Bulkhead were going to stay on Earth, and Optimus was going to travel between both planets in an attempt to cement the worlds’ budding relationship. So, for a while, you would be alone, at least in a working capacity. Granted, Ratchet and Bumblebee would be nearby, but this was something you would have to do on your own.

“Alright,” Bumblebee grumbled. “But if he’s a glitch-head, get me and I’ll kick the scrap outta him!”

“You and what army?” Ratchet commented drily.

You chuckled and thanked Bumblebee, touching his arm to soothe him. A blush dusted his cheeks.

“Uh games night?” He said hurriedly, attempting to hide his feelings before racing off to where Sari was waiting for you all.

You ignored his flush red, fully aware of how he felt about you. You knew that was a conversation that the two of you would have to have one day, but you waited for the day he might bring it up. Besides, since this was the last night everyone would be together for a while, you didn’t want anything to jeopardise the fun, especially when faced with something as tough as unrequited love.

“I’m here,” You said breathlessly, shooting through the automatic door just in time for work.

Sentinel glared at you. He had been counting on you being late so that he could complain about you to anyone who would listen afterwards.

“So… What would you like me to do, Sentinel Prime, Sir?” You bowed formally. There was no need to do so, but you hoped that by addressing him with such respect, he might warm to you somewhat. Having met him once or twice before, you knew how arrogant he could be and had decided for an easy life it might be better to stroke his ego somewhat.

Your gambit paid off as Sentinel forgot whatever sharp insult he was about to say. Instead, he blustered, puffed out his chest and managed to order you to stay out of his way while he did his job.

“Sorry Sir, but Ultra Magnus ordered me to help you in whatever way I can.”

“I know that! It doesn’t matter. I don’t need your help. Just stay out of my way and at the end of all this, we can tell Ultra Magnus to have you reassigned.”

“No, sir,” You said adamantly, standing your ground.

“What?” Sentinel spat, his lip curling.

“I’m here to work with you. I won’t be shunted to the side just ‘cos I’m human. Our planets worked together to capture Megatron, now we have to work together to show that our races can do the same.”

Sentinel stared menacingly at you. He didn’t want to be anywhere near you. You were small, organic, filthy. With that in mind, he wished you would just leave. He didn’t want any of your gross germs on him. Yet, it seemed that you were also stubborn in your mission.

“Fine,” He said after a minute, though it was clear he wanted to tell you where to go. “Just don’t do any of that gross human stuff. If you sneeze-” He didn’t finish his sentence, shuddering at the thought.

You gave him a thumbs up, “No sneezing, got it.”

With that, Sentinel finally gave you some work to do, and you began what was sure to be a rocky relationship.

Working with Sentinel was difficult.

Sometimes, he would barely give you any work at all, insisting you use your ‘initiative’ to find tasks that would aid him. On other days, he would pile your workload impossibly high, and if you were struggling to understand the reports that he had ordered you to complete, that was your fault and he wouldn’t help you.

Either way, at the end of the shift, he would get to kick back at the bar and complain that you either didn’t understand the job or couldn’t keep up with the tasks provided to a bunch of equally closed-minded mechs who wanted to see you fail.

Still, you didn’t complain, doing your best to learn all you needed to succeed. To Sentinel it was infuriating, but you knew that if you complained, it would validate everything he thought about you, no matter how unfair it was.

Fortunately, you learned how to better work around him by talking to him with the utmost respect, complimenting him, and generally getting him talking about himself. On days when he indulged you with stories of his glory days, he was a little kinder, occasionally throwing you a bone and helping you out a bit with some of your workload, or sometimes instructing you on things you had been struggling with.

Still, your working relationship wasn’t great and wouldn’t be viable unless something changed.

Such a day finally came when Sentinel had the terrible idea that you should be faster, and very suddenly presented you with his patented human speed shoes… They were rollerblades.

“I can’t use these,” You sighed when he threw them at you, too afraid to hand them to you in case you touched him.

“You can and you will,” Sentinel harrumphed.

“Sentinel, I can’t rollerblade, at least not with all the things I have to carry about, and-”

“Is this you refusing to work, human?”

You rolled your eyes. Not only was he seeking an excuse to stop working with you, but he was also playing his trump card by calling you human instead of using your name; he did that whenever he wanted to instil a feeling of power imbalance upon you.

“Fine,” You sighed, giving in. “I’ll wear the damn rollerblades.”

“Speed-shoes,” Sentinel corrected.

“Speed-shoes,” You conceded, finding him to be extra impossible.

As you had told Sentinel, using the rollerblades for work was impossible, especially when you were carrying a stack of oversized datapads that you couldn’t see over, since Sentinel was also being unreasonable about your workload.

It started as a stumble on one of the higher walkways that had been provided like scaffolding around the office for you to work with. Yet, instead of falling, you dropped the datapads, tripped backwards, and screamed as you fell over the handrail.

While Sentinel was mostly paper-pushing since the war was over, he was still trained for battle. He hurriedly spun around at the sound of your scream and ran to catch you. While he was timely in his rescue, he wasn’t gentle and he blanched at the sound of bone snapping.

He expected you to cry out again, but you were worryingly quiet upon the realisation that your leg had broken.

“(Y/N)!” Sentinel yelled your name. His processor skipped over the necessary sentences as he scrambled to think of what to say next. He was stuck between asking if you were okay, even though you clearly weren’t, ordering you not to tell anyone about the speed shoes that had caused the accident, and demanding you to tell him how to fix you.

“I- I-” Tears streamed from your eyes.

Sentinel was taken aback by how pale you were and how unusual it felt to hold you. He was certain he would drop you if any liquids came out of you, yet here you were crying and all he wanted to do was hold you closer and tell you that everything was going to be okay.

You were soft and warm and… completely unexpected.

“R-Ratchet,” You managed to say between your sniffles and grunts of pain, pulling the rollerblades off, even though it hurt to move.

“Right!” Sentinel exclaimed, snapping out of his silence.

He transformed into vehicle mode, grimacing when it caused you more pain to be jostled about, then he sped to the medical school where Ratchet was spending his twilight years, passing on his knowledge to another generation of bots.

“What in tarnation is going on here?” Ratchet demanded of Sentinel as he held you out to the older bot in the safety of a private med-bay.

“I-(Y/N)-” Sentinel stammered, feeling the pressure of Ratchet’s stern glare.

“I fell,” You said weakly to Ratchet.

“Fell, huh?” Ratchet said doubtfully. “Where are your shoes, kid?”

You shook your head, indicating that it didn’t matter, but Ratchet was an astute old bot, and he shot a scathing to look at Sentinel, even though you hadn’t sold him out.

“Really, Ratchet. It- it was my f-”

“Never mind that, kid. Let’s get you seen to.”

Although Sentinel wanted to leave, he stayed, mostly because he couldn’t fathom why you hadn’t told on him. He regretted that decision when Ratchet asked him to chat privately after treating you. By that point, you were too tired to protect Sentinel further, and the pain medication had made you somewhat woozy. Besides, even if you had been in any shape to argue, you couldn’t keep up with either of them on a bandaged leg, and without assistance you couldn’t get down from the medical berth provided.

Once Ratchet had got Sentinel out of your sight, he began yelling, “I don’t know what you did, but you're darn lucky that kid isn’t selling you out! That’s far more loyalty than you’d ever give to them!”

“Wha-” Sentinel spluttered, offended and slightly intimidated by the older bot.

“Don’t you dare try to explain yourself to me! Young bots are all alike, all arrogance and no spark. Do you know how long it takes for an injury like that to heal in humans?! AND (Y/N) WILL BE TRAPPED HERE FOR A FEW DAYS, BORED AND ALONE SINCE YOU KEEP TELLING EVERY DAMNED BOT WHO’LL LISTEN TO YOU HOW LITTLE YOU THINK OF HUMANS!”

“I-” Sentinel held up a finger to argue, but Ratchet slapped his servo away.

“Don’t you dare try to argue with me,” He said dangerously. “I’ve seen (Y/N) a few times since she started working with you. You’ve overworked that poor kid for no reason at all, and let me tell you something- That kid won’t quit. You can pile on all the work you want, and (Y/N) will do it. They’ll exhaust themself to do anything you ask, all because they’re the bigger person and want to be friends.”

Ratchet barked a mirthless laugh, continuing his tirade, “Friends, HAH! But you won’t let that happen, will you, Mr. Bigshot. No, ‘cos you’re so superior. Well, anything to say for yourself now?”

Sentinel looked somewhat ashamed and contrite after Ratchet’s verbal rebuke, yet he let his anger bubble up and overtake him.

“I am your superior officer,” He spat contemptuously.

Ratchet shook his head, disgustedly. “Then lead by example and do something worthy of the title.”

The older bot was about to walk away, but Sentinel wouldn’t let him have the satisfaction, so he stormed ahead first, rushing back to the room you were stuck in.

“Come on (Y/N), I’m taking you home.”

“I just told you (Y/N) has to stay here,” Ratchet yelled, catching up.

“Not if there’s someone to take care of them.”

“And you’re gonna do that?”

“Yes!”

Sentinel picked you up, more gently than before, and this time, he was extra careful as he transformed so as to spare you any discomfort.

He wasn’t entirely certain whether to take you to your own home or his, but after some thought about organic fuels and how much effort you would have to put into traversing his sizeable house, he opted for taking you to your place, next door to the techno-organic and down the road from that insufferable Bumblebee.

Sentinel especially hated the contentious yellow mini-bot since he always found reasons to bother you at work and it was a massive distraction. It didn’t help that Bumblebee was obviously head over pedes for you and that he had no respect for Sentinel at all; he only ever left at your insistence, and always with an insult for Sentinel about the workload he gave to you.

Hm… your workload. Sentinel couldn’t help thinking about what an aft he’d been of late.

“When you’re fit for work, I think you should take it easy. No more 12 groon days.”

A groon on Cybertron was more or less an hour, and you nodded along sleepily in understanding, grumbling a half-word that didn’t make sense outside of your head.

“Hey, are you listening?”

Your eyes shut heavily and you could barely lift them open to respond.

“Great, I suppose I have to take you to bed now too?” Sentinel complained, covering just how worried he was that you were acting out of the ordinary.

When he got you home, Sentinel struggled to take care of you; he had very little knowledge on humans, except that they had corrosive spit, though most were apparently too civilised to use it. Your house was a hybrid of human-sized equipment and catwalks, and lounge space for several Cybertronians, yet having never been there before, Sentinel didn’t know the layout, nor did he understand what half your appliances did, or what certain rooms were for.

He did manage to find your bed and lift you up to it, but after that, he felt like he should be doing something more to help. You were recharging now, but you would probably need things when you woke up.

Stuck on what to do, Sentinel reluctantly knocked on your neighbour’s door.

“What do you want?” Sari asked obnoxiously, annoyed to have been interrupted in the middle of the day, right after she had returned from class.

“I- I-” Sentinel made an effort to swallow his pride, an act which took a good five minutes. “I need your help.”

It took Sari about 10 minutes to stop laughing, but she got very serious when Sentinel begrudgingly explained that you were injured and that he didn’t know how to help you. After seeing you in bed, sleeping off the pain medication that Ratchet had administered, Sari explained very carefully how long it would take for your leg to heal, and what Sentinel had to do in the few coming days to help you out, such as placing a water bottle by your bed, and making sure your crutches were in reach.

Sentinel listened to everything she said, ignoring the back-handed insults that came his way, then after Sari left, he settled into the bot-sized lounge, waiting for you to wake up. He put the TV on, watching a show from Earth you had left in the player, synching the volume to his audials, but keeping it low all the same in case he needed to hear you wake up.

Having watched several episodes of the comedy show you had, Sentinel had to admit, it was pretty funny… for something humans had made. The idea of Ghosts being so ridiculously stupid did amuse him.

You woke up quietly, sucking in pain through your teeth as the medication you had been given started to wear off. Admittedly, you were surprised to see Sentinel in your house, even though you vaguely remembered him promising that he would be there.

It was amusing to see him actually having fun for once. Usually, he was tense and angry around you; you hadn’t realised he could be happy without putting someone else down.

You tried to get up without disturbing him but the crutch clattered to the floor before you could grab it.

“(Y/N),” Sentinel stood up quickly. “How are you feeling? Do you need Ratchet again?”

“I’m-” You thought about saying you were fine, as was the expected social response. Instead, you decided to answer truthfully. “I’m tired, but my leg was bothering me a bit.”

“It’ll be fine,” You added hurriedly before he could rush off to get help you didn’t need, “It’s just sore.”

Sentinel nodded. “From what I understand, it will be painful for some time,” He didn’t mention that by that he also meant the memory of inadvertently hurting you.

You nodded with a tired smile, “Yeah… Could be worse though. Thank you, for getting me help.”

“Thank… Thank you for your loyalty.”

You nodded again, “Yeah uh… You- You don’t have to stay here if you don’t want to. I can take care of myself.”

Sentinel would have gladly left if he didn’t feel so responsible for you. “I need to stay for a while if you are comfortable with me being here.”

“Okay,” You agreed, reaching again for your crutches so you could go to the bathroom.

Sentinel hurried to pick them up for you. “Okay,” He agreed solemnly.

Sentinel was surprisingly attentive to you. Although you only needed him for a day or so, he insisted on staying the full week. After that, he brought work to you for a while, afraid that if you returned to the main work base, you’d somehow make your recovery take longer.

Yet, the reports that he brought you were easier than before, confirming your suspicions that he had initially made your job harder than it needed to be; the deadlines were also laxer, and he took the time to explain a few things to you.

He stopped complaining about you to bots at the bar, and now on the odd occasion you sneezed or cleared your throat, he didn’t flinch or make nasty comments. In short, he was getting used to you, and you realised that when he tried, he could be very nice.

The peace was short lived however when Bumblebee came over to visit for the fourth time since you’d been hurt.

“You should quit,” He told you, point-blank, having abandoned the video game the two of you had been playing.

“Excuse me?” You asked, wondering what had prompted his response this time.

“Quit! Go back to working for the correct Prime. Optimus would treat you better and he wouldn’t make you work when you’re sick.”

“I’m not sick. A broken leg is not a sickness.”

“It’s an injury,” Bumblebee said accusingly, raising his voice.

“Bumblebee, this is for our races to work together. This is a good start.”

Bumblebee blushed. The way you spoke so passionately about your races working together made him think that you were talking about more than work… Maybe, you were talking about you and him. Together.

“Besides,” You added, “Working for Sentinel isn’t half-bad, you know. He’s- He’s been kind to me.”

Bumblebee froze at the look on your face. Pink-dusted cheeks, a soft smile that he had imagined would be reserved for him, the way your eyes glazed over almost dreamily when you spoke about Sentinel. No, no! This couldn’t be happening. You could not get feelings for that pompous, arrogant, pile of SLAG!

“How did you get hurt?” Bumblebee asked, dangerously quiet, though you missed the intention behind his tone.

He had asked you before, but you rattled off an excuse about being careless.

“I already told you,” You started, only to be cut off by a Bumblebee who was angrier than you’d ever seen him before.

“HOW DID YOU GET HURT?!”

“Bumblebee-”

“HOW?! IT WAS HIM WASN’T IT!”

“I-”

Bumblebee ran out of your house, transforming as soon as he was on the streets. He was determined to give Sentinel a piece of his mind.

It took a while for Bumblebee to find Sentinel, not knowing the places that the Prime frequented. Yet, he eventually found him leaving a store with a small box that fit under his arm.

Bumblebee rushed at Sentinel, throwing a punch against the larger bot’s jaw. Had he been prepared, Sentinel might have faired better, but as it was, he dropped the box he was carrying and stumbled backwards, against the alley wall.

Bumblebee tried to pin him but Sentinel pushed him back, grappling his arms.

“WHAT THE FRAG ARE YOU DOING?” Sentinel demanded as the two struggled, holding each other’s shoulder plates and trying to get the better of their opponent.

Bumblebee headbutted Sentinel in the chassis to little effect, “IT’S YOUR FAULT (Y/N) GOT HURT! ADMIT IT! IT’S ALL YOUR FAULT!”

Bumblebee waited for the adamant denial Sentinel was known for. He pushed Sentinel back, readying his stingers, and only stopping when Sentinel answered.

“Yes.”

Bumblebee stopped in his tracks, mouth agape. Sentinel had never once taken responsibility for his actions.

“What?”

“It was my fault,” Sentinel admitted bitterly.

For the first time since finding him that night, Bumblebee really looked at Sentinel. “Why? Why now? After all this time, you finally admit to something…”

“It’s not natural…” Sentinel said more to himself than to Bumblebee. He was thinking about his feelings towards you, certain that it wasn’t right for a Cybertronian to feel anything romantic towards a human. He bent down to pick up the box which had spilled its contents onto the floor.

Bumblebee glanced down finding that it was all things for humans. Imported books from Earth, snacks you had been known to eat, herbal tea that Ratchet often recommended, and some pain medication.

Bumblebee picked up the tea, staring at it morosely before handing it to Sentinel who took it warily.

“(Y/N) doesn’t like that flavour,” He said quietly.

“I’ll… I’ll keep that in mind.”

Bumblebee nodded. He didn’t apologise for his actions, though it was implied in his tone when he addressed Sentinel for the final time that night, “Take better care of them. They’re everything to me.”

Sentinel nodded, watching Bumblebee walk away afterwards. He stayed there a few minutes longer before heading over to your house to gift you the things he had bought.  

Like my work? Buy me a ko-fi

[4unnyr0se]

❥ study sesh | satoru gojo

warnings: college au!, fem reader, gojo is submissive lol, goldren retriever gojo, gojo isn't very smart but thats okay we love him, fingering, roughness, making out, hickeys, top! reader, geto is mentioned several times, couch sex, readers favorite kind of sushi is also my favorite kind, degrading, insecure reader, asphyxiation, mentions of vaping and drinking, mentions of marijuana use, protected sex, choso mentioned, geto is a bastard, doordash is expensive and i dont like that

MDNI | 18+ content

word count -> 4k

Gojo groaned at the email he was just sent, running his hands down his pale face in annoyance. He slammed his laptop closed and tossed his head back, groaning exasperatingly. Failing a required class, seriously? Out of all the things he could do at university this was by far the most cliche. So annoyingly cliche, like his entire college life was a very niche film. Rolling his azure blue eyes, Gojo opened his laptop to reread the email his professor sent him. His high-and-mighty professor had arranged a tutoring session with the only tutor for History of Japan 201. Lucky him.

“Dickhead,” Gojo mumbled, pushing himself out of his rolling chair. He quickly stretched and placed his laptop inside his backpack along with the mess of empty vapes and crumbled-up phone numbers that he swore he would text (he never did.) He checked out how he looked in the mirror, adjusting his v-neck collar and fluffing out his snow-white hair just a little bit. He may not have known who you were yet, but he’d be damned if he didn’t look fine at any given moment.

“Yo, I’m going out.” Gojo spoke to Geto, his suitmate. Geto took the joint out of his mouth and raised an eyebrow, offering the blunt to Gojo. 

“Why? There are no parties happening tonight, at least not that I know of.” Geto asked, sitting up on the edge of his bed. Geto’s bed was significantly nicer than Gojo’s his sheets didn’t have any suspicious stains on them and they smelled like laundry.

“Fucking Professor Yaga is making me go to a tutoring session for my history class. Says if I don’t do it then my grade’ll be tanked.” Gojo sighed, running his hands through his hair as he leaned against the door to their apartment.

“Tanked? You mean your grade was good this time around?” Geto smirked, putting out the joint at the bottom of his shoe.

“If you count a 59% as good,” Gojo shrugged, putting his hands in his jacket pockets.

“Oh, you’re fucked man.” Geto laughed, laying back down on his bed. “Good luck with the history nerd, you’ll need it.”

“Fuck off man,” Gojo punched Geto on the arm, eliciting a smug chuckle out of Geto’s throat. “I’ll be back when I’ll be back. If you’re bringing a girl over, text first. If I have to see your face covered in cum again I’ll vomit.”

“What, someone jealous?” Geto rolled his eyes and clicked his tongue on the roof of his mouth.

“Whatever man, see you.” Gojo walked out of his apartment, walking down the steps in a hurry. “And get the fuck out of my room! You have your own!” He yelled up the stairs, knowing the chance of Geto hearing him was slim to none.

He put his headphones on, turning up the music to drown out his thoughts. What if you were fucking annoying, or shitty at teaching? How fucked would he be then? Even worse, what if you were too good at your job and Gojo’s grade skyrocketed? Would he be asked to become a tutor? No one fucking wants that, especially not him. Tutoring was for losers and virgins, and he certainly wasn’t any of those.

Gojo walked across campus with a spring in his gait, nodding to the girls who waved at him. It wasn’t an unusual occurrence for girls (and occasionally the female professors) to get flustered when he walked past them. His classmate fainted one time he asked her for a pencil, but he thought she was probably faking it. It wasn’t a secret that Gojo was a known player on and off the campus, but why did the women he slept with have to exaggerate everything? It felt fake, artificial. Gojo liked his women to be lively, to be real. 

Whatever, he didn’t need to think about that right now. Gojo approached the library, taking off his headphones and placing them over the curve of his neck. He sat down at a table near the back end where all the books were stored, slowly gathering dust. Hell, some of them haven’t been touched in decades. Maybe it was for a good reason.

“There you are! I looked everywhere.” His ears perked up at the sound of a feminine voice approaching him, his ocean eyes turning to get a look at you. You stood in front of him, clutching your messenger bag in your left hand and a pencil in the other. “You’re five minutes late, you know. Now we only have 55 minutes to go over the material instead of an hour, dummy.”

Gojo rolled his eyes and opened up his backpack, fishing aimlessly for a pencil and a sheet of paper. An empty puffbar fell out and landed on the carpeted floor, which made you raise an eyebrow. Gojo coughed and picked it up hastily, shoving it back inside his black hole of a book bag.

“Don’t act like you’ve never seen a vape before,” He muttered, adjusting his posture.

“No, I have. I’m just surprised that you like that flavor. Blue raspberry ice is so basic.” You retort, sitting down across from him. Spreading out some papers from your messenger bag, you hand Gojo a highlighter and a pen, both in the color blue. “Okay, here’s what we’re going to do. You are going to highlight what’s important on the documents and write them down on the notebook paper. After that we’ll make flashcards from your notes and just do those until the hour is up, does that sound okay?” You looked at him, taking out your pen and paper to observe how he studied. You didn’t need to review the material, you knew it all by heart anyway. But if you were being completely honest with yourself, it was such a treat to have the academic fate of Satoru Gojo in your hands. Like a little bird trapped in a cage, except this bird was unironically stupid.

“I’d rather kill myself, but okay. Anything to pass this lame-ass lecture.” Gojo muttered in frustration, pulling the lecture documents forward. His eyes lightly skimmed over them, not absorbing much of the information anyway. He could just do this in his apartment, why did Professor Yaga feel the need to torture him with this useless tutoring session? Because his professor hated him, that’s why.

“Hey, don’t diss Japanese history. It’s fun sometimes if you forget about all the wars and whatever.” You softly giggled, curling a lock of your hair behind your ear. Gojo looked up from his highlighting to stare at you for a brief moment, the ghost of a smile touching his plump lips. 

‘Cute,’ He thought to himself, turning his attention to the documents once more. He continued to sneak an occasional glance at you to gauge what kind of person you were. Were you a typical history nerd, or was this a persona you put on to protect yourself? Gojo always had a way of reading people, but you remained a mystery to him.

Gojo would groan in frustration frequently, covering it up with a hasty cough. Why couldn’t he read you, and why did he want to get to know you better? This has never happened before with him, not sure for quite a while. 

“Uh, are you okay? You’ve been coughing the entire time, do you need to go home or something? I can always email Yaga and tell him you aren’t feeling the best.” You spoke, packing up your pen and papers neatly into your bag, a stark contrast to the way that Gojo’s bag could be considered a biohazard. 

“Oh, yeah I’m fine. Just thinking real hard about the Heian period is all.” He smirked, covering up his hazy mind with quick wit.

“Mhm, I’m sure you were, princess.” You retorted, flashing a smug grin at him. “By the way, thanks for completely reinforcing the stereotype of a dumb frat guy. Keeps my image of your kind on track.”

“The fuck you mean by that?” Gojo asked defensively, getting up and throwing his bookbag over his shoulder. “Are you saying that all frat guys are stupid or something?”

“That’s exactly what I’m implying, pretty boy.” You began to walk to the door, grinning to yourself as Gojo quickly caught up to you in just a few paces.

“You’re something else, girl.” He spoke, walking with you out of the library towards the university center. “I like that. Where are you going?” Gojo asked, following you like a lost puppy.

You rolled your eyes, stopping in your tracks. “To the university center. I want dinner.”

Gojo shook his head and wrapped his arm around your shoulders, pulling you away from the path. “No way, I’m not letting my tutor get food poisoning from a shithole like that. I’ll order us something, okay?” He flashed his pearly whites at you, which you couldn’t help but admire. For such a disorganized slob he sure knew how to take care of his hygiene. 

You raised an eyebrow skeptically, not minding how he wrapped his arm around you. Almost like Gojo wanted to protect you weirdly enough. “And why would you order me food? All I did was teach you about the Heian period, it wasn’t anything.” You babbled on in an ill attempt to make excuses.

“Just let me buy dinner for you, okay? We can go back to my apartment and study some more there, the library is suffocating me anyway.” Gojo whined, steering the both of you in the direction of his university apartment. It wasn’t a very long walk from the main campus, and yet he was almost always late to every single one of his classes this semester.

“Suffocating you with knowledge, perhaps. Is your brain seriously that small?”

“Maybe don’t diss the guy that’s paying for your dinner, sweetheart.” Gojo wiggled his thin eyebrows at you, walking up the flights of stairs to his apartment. “My roommate might still be home but don’t worry about him. Suguru is usually too stoned to notice anything.” He turned the key and let you both inside, kicking off his shoes onto the carpet beneath him.

You took off your shoes and placed them beside his own, sitting down on the living room sofa. Gojo had sauntered off somewhere, yelling for his suitmate. “Looks like he isn’t here, probably under a bridge or skating with Choso.” He placed his hands in his pockets and sat down a couple of feet beside you. 

“So, what did you wanna order? Burgers, Chinese? Anything except soba, I fucking hate soba.” Gojo chuckled, pulling out his phone from his back pocket. 

Thinking for a moment, you snapped your fingers together. “Sushi. I haven’t made decent sushi in forever.”

Gojo slowly nodded and opened up a popular food delivery app, hitting the little sashimi icon on the home screen. “A little expensive but okay. D’ya like rolls or sashimi or what?”

“Rolls, spicy. Salmon, if you can.” You told him your preferences, leaning down to take your laptop out of your messenger bag. “I’m making you a Quizlet so that my time here doesn’t feel completely pointless.” As you mumbled to yourself, a tiny little foil packet well out of the side pocket. You grabbed it quickly and shoved it in your front pocket, praying that Gojo didn’t notice. 

“Foods ordered, it wasn’t cheap either. Not that I mind, I got plenty of cash to spare!” Gojo smiled, miming throwing money in the air. 

You let the faintest smile touch your face, typing away at your laptop. “You’re like a puppy, you know. Like those white labs I see all the time.” You looked at him, admiring the way his messy white hair added to his devilishly handsome aura. “They’re pretty cute.”

Gojo raised an eyebrow and leaned closer to you, almost teasing you with his proximity. “Are you saying that you think I’m cute, nerd?” He purred, sticking his tongue out.

You blushed and rolled your eyes, closing your laptop. “Maybe, so what if I did? I’m just your tutor. Yaga is giving me extra credit just by talking to you.” You mumbled, noticing that Gojo was still leaning closer to you.

“Well…I think you’re pretty cute too.” He grinned, a blush covering his stupidly adorable face.

Your fingers tensed up in your lap, your gaze locked onto the shag carpet beneath you. You wouldn’t dare look into his eyes, not now. They would only suck you into his sexy blue vortex and then before you knew it you would be on his lap, straddling his waist and making out with his neck.

“You think all girls are pretty, you’re a player for fucks sake.” Your voice was filled with scoff and denial, the tension between you two growing with each passing second. “My friend saw you shoving your tongue down a sorority girl's throat last night, did you think she was cute too?”

“Well, technically yeah but it’s only on the surface. She was attractive but she had no personality, unless you count downing vodka crans as a personality trait.” He pointed out, wrapping his arm around your shoulder once more. You two were pressed against each other, your arms limp at your sides. You had no idea what to do, should you touch him as well? Where would you touch him?

“So…you think my personality makes up for the fact that I don’t have a pretty face?” You sighed, your insecurities surrounding you like haunted spirits.

“No! No way, no.” Gojo assured you, cupping your cheeks with his hands. “I think you’re pretty and smart and funny and…I know I’ve only met you a couple hours ago but you’re really fucking sexy.”

You gulped as you felt his warm and large hands on your face, leaning into the touch slightly. Satoru Gojo called you sexy, his history tutor. He thought his history tutor was sexy. You smacked your glossed lips together, your noses touching. “How long until the sushi gets here?”

“Twenty minutes.”

“Do you think we could fuck in that amount of time?” You boldly asked, staring into his gorgeous, enchanting blue eyes. You bit down on your bottom lip, your own eyes containing unspoken desires. 

Gojo smirked and pulled you onto his lap, his hands resting on the swell of your hips. “Hell yeah, sweetheart.” He whispered, crashing his lips against yours. The kiss was slow at first, your arms wrapped around his neck while his own hands trailed up and down your back, occasionally stopping to feel the round flesh of your ass.

Your tongue entered his mouth, doing battle with his wet muscles before exploring his cavern. Gojo groaned at the sensation of your tongues colliding, attempting to shift himself so he was on top.

You pulled away from the kiss and tutted at him, pushing his chest down so he was leaning against the leather texture of the couch. “No, pretty boy, I’m on top this time.” You spoke softly, your voice dripping with sexuality and confidence. 

“This time, huh? You wanna see me again after this?” Gojo smirked, slapping your ass gently. “Someone sure got confident real quick.”

You shrugged and bit down on his bottom lip with your teeth, pulling away a second later. You saw how Gojo reacted to your dominance, how the breath left his lips the second you laid down the law. Your long nails dug into the black tank top he wore, your thumb slipping under the hem to feel his abs.

“You’re so fucking ripped, holy shit.” You breathed out, planting gentle kisses on his neck. You squeezed your legs shut, anxious to receive any friction that would make you feel amazing.

Gojo grinned, taking off his jacket along with his shirt and tossing it behind his head. “What about now, you still like what you see princess?” He chuckled, flexing his biceps to impress you.

“Oh shut up and finger me.” You smiled and rolled your eyes, slamming your lips against his once more. Your hand guided his under the hem of your sweatpants and underneath your panties, prodding them at your weeping entrance. “Fuck me with your fingers before I ride you, Satoru.”

“God, I love it when you tell me what to do.” He groaned, shoving your pants down to your kneecaps along with your panties. He put his fingers inside of his mouth, a popping sound leaving his lips as they were soaked in his spit. “Gotta make sure they don’t hurt you.” He teasingly ran them up your folds, inserting his middle and index finger inside of you slowly. Gojo thrust them up and down at a regular pace, not knowing if you liked it rough or gentle. 

“S-shit, your fingers are so fucking long. Oh shit.” You moaned into his ear, slumping yourself against his muscular chest for support. His fingers continued to drill up and inside of you, observing how you convulsed around him if he fucked his fingers in and out of you at the speed of light. 

“Yeah, you like that pretty girl? You like getting fucked by some dumb frat guy's fingers?” Gojo whispered into your ear, biting the shell harshly. You squealed in pleasure as you felt his thumb rub harsh circles on your clit. Fuck, he was so fucking good with his hands. 

“Fucking love it, holy fuck!” You gasped, feeling your knees start to give way as your orgasm approached. Suddenly, you grabbed Gojo’s wrist and pulled it away from your pulsating core, your breath slow and shallow. 

Gojo raised an eyebrow in confusion, his cock throbbing horribly in his boxers. “Was I too rough or something?” He asked, concerned about his performance. 

You shook your head in assurance, kissing his forehead gently. “N-no, not at all. It’s just that…I wanna cum on your cock, not on your fingers.” You whispered, playing with the drawstring of his sweatpants. “Also…that erection looks pretty fucking painful. Are you gonna let me ride you or what?” You teased, thumbing with the hem.

Almost instantly Gojo’s sweatpants flew off his body, leaving him only in his very tight black boxers. Your hands tugged down on the hem, pulling the boxers down so only his cock and balls were exposed. He was huge, his mushroom tip was pink and he had a large pulsating vein wrapping around the shaft. “Fuck…do you have a condom?” You asked, wanting so badly to just slam yourself down and fuck him senseless.

“Y-yeah, in my bag over there.” Gojo pointed to his discarded backpack at the entrance of his apartment, secretly wishing it would just fly into his hand like Thor with his hammer.

You wobbled over to retrieve the condom, shuffling through old candy wrappers and empty vape pens. Finding it, you practically sprinted over to sit back down on Gojo’s lap. He took the condom from your hands and tore open the foil with his teeth, rolling the latex on with ease. “Fuck, I’ve never been this sensitive before. You’re a witch.” He breathed out, kissing you softly as you hovered yourself above his cock.

“Shh, just lemme fuck you. Alright, baby?” You purred, lowering yourself down onto his cock. You hissed as his thick mushroom head pushed past your entrance, the pleasure outweighing the pain tenfold. “F-fuck, you’re so fucking big.”

“Tell me something I don’t know, pretty girl.” Gojo chuckled, grabbing onto your hips. He pushed you down further onto his cock, whispering sweet nothings into your ear until he’d bottomed out.

You started to move yourself up and down on his cock, bouncing slowly to grow accustomed to his length and girth. You kissed him passionately, gripping his broad and muscular shoulders for support. “Ngh, fuck!” You cried onto his lips, placing his hands on your waist to guide you.

Gojo’s hands pulled you back and forth, up and down on his length until you got the hang of handling how big he was, your hands now groping your tits as you fucked yourself on his cock. The filthy sound of skin slapping and squishing against skin filled the apartment, the still and stiff air being replaced with the intoxicating aroma of sex and lust. 

“God, just like that baby! Fuck, you’re so fucking good at riding this dick princess. Ride my dick, fuck, ride me! Fuck me!” Gojo cried out, resting his head on the cushions behind his naked body as your hips slammed onto his pelvic bone repeatedly, surely leaving bruises for him to wake up to tomorrow.

“You’re so fucking noisy.” You growled, wrapping your hands around his bruised throat. Not enough to stop him from breathing, just enough to let him know who was in charge. 

Gojo whimpered as he felt your hands wrap around his throat, his cock twitching inside of you. He had no idea he liked it when he wasn’t in charge when he was being used like a fucktoy. Gojo fucking loved watching ride him, how your sobbing cunt took his cock so nice and so deep.

You tilted your head to the side and smiled darkly, moving even faster on his cock to the point where you were just bouncing on the abused appendage. “What, baby forgot how to use his words? Are you being fucked too good you can’t even speak, huh? Adorable little slut.” You whispered, your lew words making Gojo want to become yours even more.

“Oh, is somebody gonna fucking cum?” You mocked, pouting your lip. Your grip around his neck tightened as you continued to ride him, feeling your orgasm fast approaching. “Fucking cum for me baby, cum like the good little whore you are.”

“Fuck, I’m c-cumming! Fuck, ngh, fuck! Oh my God, fuck! Please” Gojo practically sobbed as his orgasm filled the rubber he wore, his grip on your hips not faltering. He could feel your cunt milk him for all he was worth, still bouncing on him with vigor. “P-please cum, please! Wan’ feel you on me, please!” He begged, his beautiful blue eyes swelling with tears.

You threw your head back as your orgasm finally hit you, pleasure coursing through every single possible vein in your body. “A-ah, shit! Fuck, fuck, oh my God!” You cried out, the bouncing on his cock slowing down as you rode out your high.

Exhausted, you collapsed onto Gojo’s sweaty chest, admiring how good he smelled even after sex. His arm wrapped around your soaked shirt, embracing you gently. “Fuck…that was the best sex I’ve had in a while.” He chuckled, kissing the side of your face.

“Oh yeah? We should do it again sometime after you do your homework of course.” You offered him a half-smirk, pulling yourself off of his now soften cock. You tied the condom and tossed it in a nearby wastebasket, pulling up your sweatpants and panties. “The sushi is probably here by now, should I go get it?” 

“Oh fuck,” Gojo grabbed his phone and unlocked it, seeing the notification that the sushi had been delivered ten minutes ago. “Fuck me, we took thirty minutes! Guess you were wrong about timing there, hm?”

You rolled your eyes and opened the apartment door to be greeted by a smug-looking Geto holding your sushi. “I’ve been standing here for about five minutes, you guys are really fucking loud.” He chuckled, allowing himself inside.

“Really, Satoru? On the couch? I sit there sometimes, dude.” Geto placed a hand on his hip, handing you the boxed sushi.

Gojo rolled his eyes and walked over to you, wrapping an arm around your waist. He had put his pants back on but his abs were still very much on display.

“Fuck off, Suguru. Please.” Gojo mumbled, squeezing your waist. You smiled at the welcome touch, especially enjoying the banter the two of them shared.

“Seems like you already did, Satoru,” Geto smirked, walking off to his room.

“Fuck you, dickhead!”

[marauroon]

best friend james figuring out he actually has feelings for the reader??????

I G N O R A N T — JAMES POTTER!

james potter x fem!reader | fluff | 1.2k | masterlist!!

ignorance is bliss. or that’s what james keeps telling himself anyway.

cw — one singular mention of james having a suggestive dream

an — this kinda sucks lol sorry

James often found himself finding excuses to touch you any time the two of you were together.

He’d been physically affectionate his whole life, a product of the amount of loving he was given by his parents, but when Sirius and Remus were complaining about him being so touch-forward with them—even if it was light-heartedly—it made him feel a little bad.

So he always came back to you.

He’d hug you from behind, pulling you tightly to his chest, or find reasons to be close enough he could take your hand in his.

It made him feel a little confused sometimes—the way he craved being near you every second, how his heart would race when you walked through the door of the common room.

No one made him feel the way you did, and no one ever would.

As the ‘loud’, playful kid who never took anything seriously, the way James craved your affection and acceptance was almost foreign, yet it’d become such common place that there were times where he didn’t even blink at its abnormality.

James just needed you, in a way that had become very apparent to everyone in the Gryffindor tower by the time the two of you were in sixth year.

When the two of you were alone, especially, things often got more affectionate and intimate.

Subtle touches lingered longer as the years went on, a casual arm laid over your shoulder sliding down to rest at your waist, him brushing your hair absentmindedly out of your face progressing into chaste kisses at your temples.

There was nothing innately romantic about it, even as your bodies laid together with James’ hands resting on the small of your back and in your hair. Your eyes closed, his glasses crooked on his nose, always ending with one of you pulling away when the lines of friendship became a little too blurred.

And then the cycle would begin again.

You would laugh, push him away, both of you would make a joke about how long you’d just ‘spiced up your friendship’, and it would repeat. Over and over.

James had never pushed for more, never let his hands wander too far or his lips to dip below your cheeks. There wasn’t anything to rush about. The two of you had a pace, and you stuck to it.

A slow, devastatingly languid pace that managed to fit you both perfectly.

James’d tried getting into casual relationships before, to redirect his inherent need for you onto somebody else, but it was always too rough, to rushed, like the only end goal was get the two of them out of their clothes as quickly as possible. He didn’t like that kind of relationship. It just felt wrong to him.

So he found himself going back to you – always.

He didn’t like anyone more, no one made him feel the way you did. So who cared if what you had was a little outside the ‘traditional boundaries’ of friendship? The two of you were close, best friends.

You just happened to need each other.

The two of you made a promise when you’d started to add kisses into your ‘friendship’, that no matter what happened between you two, you would always be friends first and foremost.

James would never be anything less than your best friend, he couldn’t — he cared about you too much, and just the thought of losing you, losing his best friend, made his stomach twist like someone was wringing his insides out.

The Marauders? They were a great distraction, but the other three could never compare to you.

Sirius knew he was as gay as rainbow and was completely out, Remus already had a very ‘colourful’ love life, and Peter had his fair share of crushes from time to time.

James had none of that, he just had you.

But that was all that he needed.

You’d never know he’d started to look at you a little differently anyway, James prided himself on having a perfect poker face, almost as good as Sirius’, if not better at times.

So you’d go back to being the best of friends, and James would ignore how his heart beat faster anytime you were alone together, or how his thoughts strayed to your lips whenever there was a moment of silence.

He couldn’t imagine being without you.

It was just a fact.

The sky was blue. Fire was hot. You and James Potter were destined to be a pair.

Because if he didn’t have you, his beautiful, kind, brilliant best friend, he didn’t know what he’d do.

So the two of you continued as usual, you shared jokes, played pranks together, played with each other in the corridors when the marauders were around, and shared chaste kisses and cuddles when you were alone.

You were best friends, and you always would be.

Because that’s what it was.

A friendship.

The two of you weren’t ‘dating’ and, despite Sirius’ teasing that it was only a ‘matter of time’, it would never be anything ‘more’ than that.

You knew it. James knew it.

Because you’d promised each other. The two of you were friends above everything. Just friends.

Best friends, who knew everything about each other.

James knew what you ate for breakfast everyday, what time you showered, when you slept and how to wake you.

And you knew James’s exact routine after a bad day - what music he played when he didn’t want to think, when he needed company and when he wanted to be alone. You could count the number of times you’d seen James cry on one hand, but you’d been there to dry his tears every time he had.

You were a part of each other, two people who’d fit so perfectly together everyone around you expected you to just ‘click’ eventually and start dating, but you’d never considered it.

You were fine as you were, as best friends with an affection that bordered on being more, it was comfortable. Safe.

Even if James started to wake from increasingly detailed dreams of you, panting and blushing, with heat coiled tightly in his stomach.

He never thought about it.

He’d continue to live in his ignorant bliss just to keep your friendship going, and that was more than okay by him.

Because who cared that James Potter was in love with his best friend?

Not him.

It was just better for him, healthier for him, to stay ignorant of the true depth of his feelings for you and enjoy the friendship the two of you shared. It was better than losing you.

It was easier to just keep things platonic, to laugh about the jokes Sirius made about the two of you ‘being something more’ and ignore the way his heart raced whenever he felt your breath against his skin as you whispered in his ear, and it was easier to act as though your heart didn’t flutter whenever James would wrap his arms around you and press you tightly to his chest.

Ignorance was bliss. And the two of you were revelling in it like it was the only thing keeping you alive.

[thebrainofcorpse]

Lasers and Losers | Jake Peralta

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trigger warnings: none

gender neutral reader with no specific description of appearance

word count: 1.3k

𖤐

Officers and detectives of the 99th precinct crowded the small room, securing their vests and admiring the guns they were given. Their sergeant, Jeffords, stood before them beside their Captain, Holt. Serious expressions on both of their faces.

"I expect this to be taken extremely seriously." Holt spoke, eyeing his staff with a hard stare. "Treat it like a real case. Real lives on the line."

After a close call during a drug bust that became very violent, very quickly, both the Captain and Sergeant believed that it would be good for everyone to have more training on what to do in the field.

What better way to do that than by playing laser tag and pretending to take down criminals?

"We're serious, Peralta." Jeffords chimed in at the detective who was smiling like a child being given candy. "We don't want any of you getting hurt in the field. I can't imagine my daughters growing up without me."

"Don't worry serg', I'll take this so seriously, you'll be telling me to be unserious." Peralta replied before shifting his eyes towards his left where you stood. "I'm going to kill you."

His whisper didn't go unnoticed by Holt who glared down at the two of you. "Blue team are the police, green team are the criminals. It is the blue team's job to take down all the criminals before they get you first."

Peralta smirked at you, eyeing the green lights on your vest and gun, revealing the team you were on. His own vest and gun lit up blue and you couldn't help but roll your eyes. "Back off, Peralta."

"No can do, got'sta do right by the precinct, by the public, by America." He spoke, looking off into the distance as if he was in a movie.

"Yeah, alright." You huffed, letting out a slight laugh. "Let's see if you can even catch me."

"Green team have ten seconds to run and hide before we let blue team in." Holt spoke up, preventing Peralta from replying with something stupid. "Time starts now."

Following others from the green team, you ran into the dark room and forced your eyes to adjust to the contrast of the darkness and bright neon paints covering the walls.

You raced to find a hiding spot knowing that you wouldn't be there for long. Once the blue team were let in, you'd have to stay on the move as there was truly no place to hide.

Those ten seconds felt like one and the previously silent room was filled with threats from the blue team as they moved around, spreading out across the place. You did your best to keep silent, listening for any footsteps or sounds of breathing.

You held your gun tightly in your grasp as you watched for any reflection of lights from anyone's guns or vests.

You did not want to get caught, especially by Peralta. It would only fuel his ego. It was bad enough that the man thought you were in love with him.

He wasn't wrong. You were in love with him and you had been for a while. Everyone called him delusional, constantly reminding him that you would never like someone like him but that was because they never caught the looks you'd give him. The quick glances that only he seemed to notice.

You wanted to tell him about your feelings but you did not want to boost his ego. You did not want admit defeat.

Just like you did not want to be defeated by him right now.

Eyes widening at the sound of footsteps nearing, you aimed your gun and backed up to a wall so that no one could come at you from behind.

Mentally pleading with the universe for the person about to round the corner not to be Jake, you flinched in surprise as Scully appeared in front of you, his terrified scream filling the room.

"Oh, Y/n, it's only you!" He sighed, loudly. "I'm so glad we're on the same team, ya' know?"

"Scully!" You hissed as quietly as you could, panicking when you heard the blue team start to communicate with each other to find the two of you.

"Just come out L/N!" Peralta shouted and you immediately perked up, attempting to hear where in the room he was. "If you give yourself up, no one will have to get hurt, okay?"

You smirked as you somewhat located his position and carefully started in the opposite direction.

You paused.

What kind of idiot would sabotage themselves like that just to be funny?

You know Peralta isn't as stupid as he makes himself out to be.

Which means he intentionally gave up his position to make you go in the opposite direction where he plans to meet you.

But Jake knows you're smart too.

He knows you'd figure out his plan so he may very well be staying exactly where his voice was coming from in hopes that you'll walk yourself straight towards him.

If you weren't panicking before, you definitely were now.

As attractive as it was, you hated how much of a genius he really was sometimes.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk." You spun around coming face to face with the man himself, leaning on the wall with a smirk. "You make this too easy, detective."

The first thought you had was that he looked so attractive when he was proud of himself. You knew it wasn't the time and you hated yourself for not focusing but you couldn't help it.

"Shit." You muttered, holding your arms up in defeat as he pointed his gun directly at your vest.

He smirked. "Wanna know how I did it?"

"You're going to tell me anyway." You muttered, rolling your eyes which only made him more smug.

"You know me so well, detective." He began. "I knew that if you heard me, you'd go in the opposite direction of my voice."

"I know you better than that." You stated, watching him nod.

"But not as well as you think you do." He titled his head slightly and took a step towards you. "You'd think I was playing a trick on you, so obviously you'd rethink everything."

You tightened your lips. "Right."

He took another step. "While you stopped to think of what your next move could be, I was already right behind you. You see, L/N, you may be smart but you could never outsmart a genius."

By now, he was directly in front of you, staring down at you with such intensity and confidence that you could feel your face heating up. You didn't have time to come up with anything smart to say as the man backed you up into a wall and positioned his face in front of yours.

Your noses rubbed together, eyes not daring to look away as your lips connected. It felt like a surge of electricity moved through your body.

You dropped the laser gun, placing a hand on the back of his neck and the other on the side of his face, keeping him in place as if him moving would be the worst possible thing to happen.

His hands sat comfortably on your waist as he moaned into your mouth, kissing you like his life depended on it.

You could not believe it was happening.

Slowly, Jake started pulling back before things could go any further. Detectives were still running around the room and you know Holt would have both of your heads if you were caught making out instead of doing as told.

You opened your eyes and looked into Jake's, attempting to regulate your breathing.

"You're dead, sucker." He smirked, a red light flashing from your vest as he shot you.

Your eyes widened.

"You fucker." You gasped, looking at the gun he had pressed into your side that you knew you must have confused with his hand, too caught up in the kiss to notice.

You looked back up at his proud smile. "Sorry sweetheart, just doin' ma' job."

"This isn't the end, Peralta. I will get you back for this." You threatened, watching him turn and walk away proudly.

"Sure ya' will, loser."

[myfairstarlight]

An Ode to Friends to Lovers - Colin and Penelope's story

Fine, I give in.

As someone who considers themself more of a casual viewer (as in, I've never engaged in the fandom before), I went into this new season with mild interest. And then I fell down the rabbit hole. I should have suspected it though, Friends to Lovers is a trope I affectionate particularly when it comes to romance, unfortunately one I very rarely think is done well. So I was still skeptical going in.

But by God, did they deliver on that front and I need to break it down and talk about it. So I guess this is my review of Bridgerton s3, part 1.

Under the cut though, because this is gonna be a long one (seriously, this is a warning).

I don't particularly think Bridgerton is a complex show, and one can argue all day about whether it is even good (in my eyes, as long as it's entertaining, I don't care if a show is "good"), however, the number of takes I've seen online not understanding basic story-telling worries me a bit.

Don't get me wrong, I agree this first half has pacing issues but I do not think Penelope's and Colin's love story suffered that much, it did not feel rushed to me since we already knew these characters for two whole seasons (and I maintain Colin has always had more depths than what people pretend he does, it seems like, just like the ton, viewers like to overlook him and just characterise him as naive).

And I guess this long ass post was born in the process. So:

Part One: Penelope's glow up

Yes I'm starting by looking at them individually first. I think this post on reddit sums it up so perfectly. I get we're all joking about how unrealistic it is that no man was ever interested in Penelope despite how she looks like an absolute goddess (and I maintain she was the cutest in both previous seasons as well!) - unfortunately it is realistic. That's the reality of bullying, it doesn't get solved by a glow up. Even her association with the Bridgertons through Eloise and Colin did not lessen the bullying, so without them? Even the prettiest dresses would not have changed the ton's perception of her, and she's still the awkward, anxious girl she's always been, and unfortunately, most of these men are not attracted to that. It's not satisfying, she doesn't get her triumphant revenge on a society that always ostracised her - and I think it's important that she does not. That she accepts it. She should not have to change for a ton that will not change for the better either. And it's a lesson she learns quickly - someone will love her for who she is, pretending will only lead to misery. And, it is when she's being herself that she successfully gets the interest of some gentlemen (shout out to Lord Remington! I was so hoping we would be seeing more of him on top of Debling. He's such a Whistledown fan I thought that even after the whole lesson reveal scandal he would have stuck to call on Penelope the next day to gossip together, it would have been cute but I guess he too wanted to avoid being written about) (also I'm just saying in fics he should be the one considered as a proper other suitor for Pen since they seemed to have a genuine connection, meanwhile Debling was really searching for practicality).

The thing I wanna add to that post is this: despite all that, she decided to change her looks for herself. When I first learned of the plot of this season, Colin helping her find a husband, I was scared it would mean Colin would be the one to tell her to have a makeover. It doesn't happen. Sure, Penelope subconsciously requests for a more Parisian style for her new dresses because it is the last place Colin went to, but by that point she has already given up on him. She wants something new, and to feel good in herself. That's how she blooms, by finding a style that she feels comfortable in, finally free from her mother's horrendous tastes. That's what allows her to be more confident as well, the new looks and her motivation to move on from her "unrequited fantasy". As for Colin? He never comments on her change, he compliments her dress (and mind you, that is when he's trying to play up the charm because he knows she's upset with him and he gets humbled, hard) but he never says it looks better on her than what she wore before, he never has a "I never realised how beautiful you were" moment we see a bit too often in friends to lovers stories, because to him she's still his Pen, new dresses, new hairstyles, but the same Pen he's always loved, even if he didn't realise to what extent yet.

But Penelope's confidence... is not quite there yet. Difficult to be, when she's grown up in a loveless home, with horrible sisters, a father who barely cared and a mother who constantly puts her down. Whenever she gets a compliment, her first reaction is "ah, it must be a joke" - that isn't even exclusive to Colin, in the brief interaction between Edwina and Penelope, when Edwina compliments her dress, Penelope also dismisses it. And then, there's Colin, who is always oh so honest with her and does not shy away from praising her. But I'll touch more on that later.

Part Two: Colin's new self.

And then we have the opposite: Colin showing up with a new attitude, and succeeding at it (well, on the surface). Something I haven't seen people bring up a lot though is that he's already tried a new look in s2, and he got mocked for it. The only one who didn't? Penelope. Why didn't he try to emulate being a rake back then? Because Penelope's letters grounded him, he admits it himself. It's seeing himself through Penelope's letters that gave him confidence. But that kind of confidence was not enough in the ton's eyes, and on top of that, between s2 and s3, this time Penelope doesn't write back, and neither do his family. He grows insecure, he's lost the one person who kept him grounded, he thinks his family is annoyed with him, and he still is in search of a purpose, so what does he do? He clings to Anthony's words in s1 after the disaster that was his engagement with Marina: he's too green, time to "fix" that and be more like his big brothers. They got it together, they know their purpose (well, Benedict lost his again but that's a story for another day), so surely, if he acts more like them, and not like the sensitive and naive boy he was, then surely everything will be alright! Right? Note that as opposed to s2, where he kept talking about his travels and it annoyed everyone, in s3 he doesn't go into details about them anymore, even when he's asked. They're only interested in the company he kept during the travels rather than the sights he saw. And honestly, it was heartbreaking to see right away how much of himself he was holding back, even with his own family. Penelope, however, gets the details without even asking because he already knows she likes hearing him talk about them and she makes him comfortable, and he's fully aware of that when he apologises in s3e1.

(I also want to note that, even if this new persona is fake, his new style genuinely fits him better. Just like Penelope, this season Colin found the style that makes him feel good and confident.)

And here's where I need to praise Luke's acting for a bit, because he absolutely nailed the subtle way Colin behaves differently with Penelope vs everyone else. His voice is softer, he is effortlessly charming (I was kicking my feet when he recalled how they met), his smile is bigger, even his whole face looks more relaxed whenever Penelope is around, meanwhile he always appears stiff and like he's calculating his every move when around his "friends". In fact, it is in the carriage scene we finally truly see s1&2's Colin back. When he has that look on his face, as he decides right there and then he's gonna marry her, and then a second later when he asks the question, his face. By God, his eyes are sparkling, he's so happy, and he looks as youthful and carefree as he did in previous seasons, far are the thoughts of trying to fit in a society that he hates.

Because above all, these two know and understand each other in a way no one else in their lives does. And that is a fact that remains despite the outward changes. So yes, I liked that their dynamic did not shift to romance because of their "glow ups", but because they are spending even more time together now. Speaking of which:

Part Three: Authenticity and Vulnerability

One big theme this season is being true to oneself. It's no coincidence mirrors are such a big part of it (even outside of the yet to be seen spicy scene), because looking at a mirror means looking at oneself, and be vulnerable. If s2 was about duty vs heart, eldest siblings trying to do right by their family to the point of self-sabotage, s3 is a battle between the head and the heart. It is not even exclusive to Polin - Eloise is learning and growing by trying to take genuine part in society but struggling to fit in. Cressida wants to become a better person, torn between the pressure put on her shoulders by her parents and this new friendship with Eloise. Benedict is looking for his purpose after learning Anthony paid his way to art school, and feeling like a fraud as an artist. Anthony and Kate are unashamedly in love, as they deserve to be after the struggles they went through last season. Francesca has no care for the suitors the Queen and her mother parade in front of her as the "sparkler" of the season (sidenote but I hated that, stupid name, should have stuck to diamond or select another gem) as her heart seeks out the handsome and quiet John Sterling instead. And this will continue in part 2, as Penelope will have to be honest about Lady Whistledown (because she's always her most authentic self around Colin, there is still this big secret she is so determined to keep to herself, when she should not).

The beauty about friends to lovers stories to me is the small declarations of love sprinkled throughout the relationship. It's about the trust already built in with no expectations and the vulnerability we'd never allow anyone but our closest friends to see, something even our family can be ignorant to. I mentioned earlier that Colin never shies away from praising Penelope, way before their dynamic shifts to lovers. He tells her she's good, constant, loyal, special, warm. All of these are declarations of love, even if not with romantic intent, it's about showing his appreciation for her, for the role she holds in his life. And Penelope responds in kind as well. That is why I believe people who think the romance was rushed in s3 either did not watch the past two seasons or see friendship and romantic love as two distinct things rather than a cohesive continuation of each other. In s1, people focus so much on the Marina stuff, as if that cancels out Colin's friendship with Penelope. We still do see Colin actively seek out Penelope at balls, and defending her against Cressida, he compliments her and tells her she's the one who inspired him to travel. Then s2 rolls in, and they're exchanging letters, which will become the cataclysm for their dynamic changing later on. And then there's one of my favourite scenes with them: them talking about their purpose. They both open up here, Colin about his insecurity, Penelope about her dream, it is so intimate. And then, there's of course Colin protecting the Featheringtons from ruins. I'm mostly emphasising Colin's actions, because Penelope's crush on him was always in your face, and while Colin may not have realised it yet, he's always cared about Penelope in a special way, as manifested by his actions and how vulnerable he allows himself to be around her, when even his own family has no idea about what's going on inside his head.

There's a misconception that Colin calling her his friend was him rejecting her, and yet we see in s3 he had no idea whatsoever that she has a crush on him, so he could not lead her on (unlike his book counterpart, who was aware of Penelope's infatuation and was careful never to toe the line until he realised his feelings. Show Colin though? Completely oblivious. And it makes sense, he's still young.) He asks Violet "how do you know it was reciprocated" and not "how do you know you're in love with your best friend". As of right now at the end of part 1, he genuinely thinks he's the one who fell in love first, or at least realised it first. His "You're Pen, you do not count, you're my friend" in s2, was not a rejection in his eyes, but a declaration of love; he's forsaken love and women but not his Penelope, never her, she's his exception And it's not like Penelope resented him for that friendship he so readily gave her, yes she had a crush, but she was proud to call him her friend! He was, with Eloise, her solace away from her family. At the end of the day, this is a friends to lovers story, it is silly to get upset that they considered themselves friends first before there is a click as they realise they are now on the same page to shift their relationship.

Side note but I've never liked the term "friendzoned" because it makes it sound like being friends is a bad thing. I've had unrequited feelings before but I've always felt grateful that being friends with them allowed me to stay close to them even if I knew nothing else could happen. I was still very much happy and content. But maybe I'm projecting on Penelope and that's another debate.

See, what I ended up loving about the lesson plot, which I was so wary of at first, is that Colin barely teaches Penelope anything. At first, he goes for the "do what society expects women to do" (since it worked for him) but then she acts awkwardly, she can't fake it, and it surprises him for a moment. That's when it clicks for him, she just needs to be comfortable because with him, she's always smart, witty and charming, she's herself. He's always seen her that way, and he did not quite realise he had that privilege in the first place. And I love how we see him slowly realise it is no longer a privilege thanks to his help. We see it in e2. When she talks to the guy with the dead horse (forgot his name, oops), Penelope forces the flirt and Colin is amused by it. Fast forward Penelope approaching Lord Remington by herself, without Colin's initiative, and she's being more authentic, and suddenly Jealous by Nick Jonas plays in the background and Colin doesn't look proud, but apprehensive, or dare I say jealous. The shift in Colin's head happens long before Debling is in the picture. I'd argue it already shifted earlier in that episode, in his study, which he flashbacks to in e4.

His journals detail how unfulfilled he feels when he lays with random women in his travels. He longs for emotional intimacy. And guess with who he finally finds that, when a certain red-head asks the one question that allows them to break the physical barrier they had to keep between them for the sake of propriety?

Ah yes, that first kiss. To Colin, everything has been building up to this, this is his true Oh moment. A favour turned into a revelation. For Penelope, this is quite literally the end of her fantasies. This is Penelope's most vulnerable moment. She bares her heart, she's sad, she's desperate. And some people have been calling that moment pathetic, interpreting it as her being weak and giving in to her crush again, saying that she should not have to beg for that man's affection. I concur that she is brave, and bold. I also concur that some of you all are a bit too attached to the girlboss archetype forgetting that allowing oneself to be vulnerable is also a strength. She's never had to beg for Colin's attention anyway because he readily gives it to her, but in this one instance, for once in her life, she is truly being honest. In her head, she has nothing else to lose, and she wants to experience the one thing she thinks she can never have so of course she's gonna turn to the one person she's always trusted and feels the most comfortable with, because before her crush, Colin is her friend. She's asking a favour from a friend. And then she can move on, whatever "moving on" will turn out to be. In this instance, she has the power in her hands.

And it is her bravery that is the true cataclysm for things to change properly. Of course, things have already started to change the moment she stopped replying to the letters, but that moment really expedited their relationship.

Part Four: Lovers, but in a best friends way

The thing with Bridgerton, in the books or in the show, is that each couple has their trope. This is not news to anyone, I think. We've had fake dating, and enemies to lovers, and one characteristic that these two tropes share is a growing tension between the characters before it snaps. There is a reason the early marketing for s3 focused on Penelope being cold towards Colin, tension and conflict are more appealing on the surface. And then the first half of the season comes out and that conflict between our main couple? Solved after one episode because they did one thing that is severely missing in most romance dramas: communicated healthily. Penelope laid out why she was upset (although she does not stay to let Colin explain and then vents out her feelings in Whistledown... she still has some learning to do), Colin immediately went to apologise and make up for it. All of this by talking. And yet I'd argue friends to lovers still has its own tension, just not to the same intensity as the other two, and more difficult to market. The tension comes from the brewing feelings, the way you start seeing every touch, every interaction, in a whole new light, and wondering if it's only in your head or if it's reciprocated. But now combine that with Colin who's always been so earnest about his feelings with Penelope? And Penelope who's always quietly wanted their relationship to evolve that way? Of course they figured it out quickly and got together in half a season. And I'm delighted that we will see them handle the whole Whistledown mess as a couple, as two people aware they love each other deeply, which gives a whole new meaning to the conflict compared to the book where I felt like it was brushed over a bit too quickly (because they got distracted in that carriage). It is the last secret between them, their last obstacle.

I also do not like the "Colin should have grovelled and pined more" argument, when he is the one who insisted on the lessons to help her find a husband in the first place, and then has to face the fact that actually, he doesn't like the idea of another man taking Penelope away, and oh, isn't that the consequences of his own actions? He is grovelling, you just don't see Penelope holding it over his head, because that's not the person she is, this is not a revenge fantasy story, in fact she does not realise the power she has on him because she is used to Colin seeking her out. I like that he didn't stew on his feelings and decided to act on them right away. I also don't like how this whole grovelling thing makes it sound like love is a competition, that just because Penelope has known she's been in love for longer and "suffered" longer, that means Colin needs to do the same to even the planes. Because in my eyes love isn't exactly something to be earned — it is given. Now, are you worthy to keep it? To nurture it and make it bloom and last? That is the real question.

Admittedly, since this is only the first half of the season, we do not see them in a romantic setting a lot. That first half is focused on them rekindling their friendship lost during the summer when Penelope stopped responding to the letters, and Colin having the realisation he cannot live without his best friend, not just because she is his best friend, but also because he loves her. But we do have two important, and obvious instances.

So let's talk about that first kiss again. It is, in my opinion, one of the most gentle and romantic moments in the show so far and also showcased their friendship really well. Colin trying to joke to lighten the mood as Penelope spirals down (peak best friend behaviour actually), the gentle, swelling music, the light of the moon, Colin's deep exhale of realisation as he holds her face when he goes back in for the second kiss, with the furrowed brows of a man on a mission. This is Penelope's most vulnerable moment and Colin's big realisation. And I felt like I was intruding.

And same goes for that carriage scene, but even before they go at it; now this is Colin's most vulnerable moment, and Penelope's realisation that they can be more. He chases the carriage by foot, then goes on his knees to confess his feelings to his best friend in the softest and most determined voice we've ever heard him use this whole season, eyes wide, tears threatening to fall as it is his turn to bare his heart and ask for a chance. Meanwhile Penelope takes it all in, running her hand through his hair because she can finally touch him, melting under him. Things get steamy. And then... and then... The carriage stops, they get startled, Colin jokes that the driver should have kept on driving and then... they laugh. They just made out, and went to second base together, and yet here they are now, laughing. It is such a genuine and lovely moment. And it's then that Colin has that look in his eyes, that "I'm gonna marry her" look. That is when he realises he cannot live his life without her. That his purpose is now right in front of him: making Penelope Featherington, soon to be Bridgerton, laugh until the end of their lives.

Conclusion

There's no conclusion, I just love them so dearly. Yes, there still is the whole Whistledown mess to deal with and sure, the argument with Eloise may make you think great angst is ahead but if there is one big difference between Colin and Eloise, it is this: Colin has always listened to Penelope, and this is not a diss on Eloise. Eloise, bless her heart, can be pretty self-centred, she's loud and a bit immature, something she is growing from in s3, and you cannot ignore that she did not really listen to Penelope (she has no idea Penelope wishes to marry when Penelope tells her she does in s1, we can blame the writing, but I do think it fits with Eloise's journey to realising how privileged and dismissive she is. Penelope was too polite to call her out until their falling out. Meanwhile Cressida is exactly the type of honesty she needs for a wake up call). Colin, on the other hand, is very sensitive and a good listener. Furthermore, this season, Penelope is learning to be more confident, to voice what she wants, and I like to think it is leading to her finding her own voice and not needing Whistledown to hide behind anymore. If there's someone with whom she has no filters, it is Colin, so I have faith that when the reveal happens and an argument breaks out, this new Penelope will not back down and will lay out all her reasons and all her regrets, and Colin may be stubborn, but he loves that woman and he always listens.

A part of me also wishes they keep the jealousy he felt about her writing in the book, and that they don't focus just on the whole "you lied to me" aspect (we've already had that with Eloise). How he, himself, is insecure about his writing, and here Penelope is, less fortunate than he is, and yet who did have the courage to get her writing out there, even if publishing under another name. Because that is also a reality in relationships, when your partner is at a different stage in their career, and how they can communicate to support one another.

Anyway, I'm just rambling now (as if that isn't what I've been doing this whole time). I like them. A little. Just a bit. I'm very normal about them <3