#this is a bit of an exaggeration of course

[moonmaiden1996]

The Monster Maomao Created Part 7

Part 6

Just a warning. I want a little overboard with this. But I needed this. My research is a little basic with this chapter but I hope it works.

18+ for suggestiveness

The pavilion was too quiet after he left, leaving a panting mess on the floor. Not the soft silence of peace, but the kind of silence that makes you aware of every heartbeat, every breath, every place his hands had touched. It wrapped around you—heavy, suffocating.

His scent lingered—sandalwood, musk, and something sweet—woven into your robes, clinging to your skin and hair like soot, staininf you with his very being. You adjusted your sash with trembling fingers, your pulse thrumming through your chest, your wrists, your thighs. The ghost of his weight still pressed into you. You could feel him everywhere. The memory of his mouth on you branded you more deeply than any kiss.

You forced your hands to move, smoothing your disheveled robe, pinching your cheeks for color. Then, as instructed, you slipped out through the north gate—silent and unseen. The air still trembled as you made your way through the winded paths towards your chambers. You cursed him. For this predicament, for how your thighs stuck to each other, for leaving you just as the pleasure had begun to course through your vein.

By the time you returned to your chambers your body had grown taut and desperate, legs shaking beneath you with every step. How dare he leave you here in that state!  It wasn’t just arousal—it was need. A clawing, consuming ache that had taken root in your core, pulsing with every remembered roll of his hips. You sank slowly to the floor, knees tucked beneath you, robe half-fallen from your shoulders, hair tumbling loose as you pried the layers of robes aside. There was no dignity here, just an overwhelming need. Only the memory of him is heavy against you. Only the echo of his voice: "This isn’t over."

Your core clenched at the memory.

Your thighs were slick, undergarments damp and clinging to flushed, tender skin. You didn’t want him to stop. Even now, alone in the hush of your room, your body ached for him.

Your thoughts flickered to that damn book the apothecary had given you. Lovers tangled in silk sheets, mouths parted in ecstasy, the painstakingly detailed passages. Next to each image. You’d once believed it all fantasy, written to bewitch and exaggerate. But Jinshi—gods—Jinshi had made it real. The way he’d moved against you, hot and hard, grinding into your softness with aching urgency… it had been better than anything you’d read.

You bit your lip, breath catching as your hand drifted into your lap. Your fingers slipped beneath your robe, as you parted your legs, finding slick heat and swollen flesh of your core. You gasped, quiet, sharp, as you pressed where he had rested against you. 

It was different, the back and forth motion only made the desire grow more. Dipping your fingers lowerdown you circled gently a wave of spark settling over your body as you let out a low mewl. Your back arched as the pressure mounted. It just wasn’t the same—not quite. Your fingers were smaller, unsure. Jinshi cock had been thick and relentless as it laid against you. But the heat was there. The memory of him—his voice, his scent, the maddening drag of his hips, his cock—drove you faster and harder.

Your moans were soft, desperate, muffled into the back of your hand as your other hand worked beneath your robes, fingers moving in slow circling motions at first, then faster, messier—until even your rhythm faltered.

Because it was him you imagined—above you, moving with that urgent need to possess you. That haunted, half deranged look in his eyes. The groan he tried and failed to stifle. The way he’d said, “Even the damn suppressant can’t dampen what you do to me.” That made you feel powerful.

You chased that memory, moved faster, thighs trembling as pleasure bloomed bright behind your eyes. A breathless cry caught in your throat—his name nearly slipping free as you bit into the tender flesh of your hand as to keep yourself from a releasing the moans and groans of pleasure.

But it still wasn’t enough. The pleasure came in waves, but the ache remained—a gnawing hunger deep in your belly, heavier than before. You lay still, panting, dissatisfied and hot, heart hammering in your chest as silence returned and folded over you like a second skin.

And still, his scent lingered. The heat. The weight of his promise.This isn’t over.

No. It wasn’t. Not even close. You stood with a grimace, thighs sticky, your robe clinging to your overheated skin. The ache hadn’t passed—it had deepened to an uncomfortable ache, almost unbearable.

Your growled at the sight of the book hidden among the others on the bookcase, you would seclude yourself with that damn book and a very large glass of alcohol—because gods help you, you refused to let Jinshi win.

xxxxxxxxxx

The physician's office smelled of medicinal herbs and vinegar—earthy and sharp, a tang that teased Jinshi’s nostrils, jabbing with its pungency. Though not unpleasant, it wasn’t a scent one would want to linger in. And yet, Jinshi lingered. His fingers drummed furiously against the hard wooden armrest as he watched the elderly eunuch move with precise care across the table. Sweat clung to his lower back beneath his silk robe, and the air felt thick, every breath damp and a little too warm. It had taken almost an hour before he was able to gain another restrain to even leave his chambers. The suppressant was all but useless to calm the effect of the events in the pavilion. Jinshi slammed his eyes shut to force away the memory of you. 

 Maomao stood silently beside Gaoshun, her cat-like eyes tracking every motion with obsessive curiosity, her lips twitching like she was holding back commentary purely for her own amusement.

"Is it really necessary for her to be here?" Jinshi asked once he had regained enough restraint to open his eyes once again. "This is a delicate matter." His voice was clipped, a thread away from cracking. The heat pooling under his collar had little to do with the summer sun.

"Maomao is a trained professional. She’s handled far more sensitive situations than this," Luomen replied, his eyes twinkling in the midday sun. His hands moved easily over his vials, unbothered by the tension that all but crackled off Jinshi.

He turned back to the concoction before him, muttering a series of tuts and shaking his head with the kind of judgment that made Jinshi squirm. The clink of porcelain against wood, the faint bubble of something steeping, the subtle rustle of Maomao’s sleeves—every sound seemed magnified in the stillness of the room.

"It seems," Luomen finally said with a sigh, bowing slightly, "that the palace quacks—as my dear daughter so affectionately refers to them as—have been administering you a rather potent anaphrodisiac." His voice was mild, almost conversational, which made the words heavy in Jinshi’s chest.

"The mixture has been... adjusted during our time in the Rear Palace," Gaoshun added, coughing awkwardly. "To help conceal the nature of the young masters... condition." He didn’t meet Jinshi’s gaze, instead focusing very intently on a spot on the floor.

"Hmm. I’m told that such urges only increase with age," Luomen mused, slowly.

Jinshi’s ever-present blush deepened as he blanched. "Be that as it may... I require another adjustment to suppress my recent increase of …urges." His glare flicked toward Maomao, who was clearly smirking behind her sleeve, eyes bright with wicked delight as though she were savoring a private joke at his expense.

"I’m afraid that won’t be possible," Luomen said, voice silky. "At least not with the ingredients I currently have. Any further increase could cause serious harm. You’re already pushing dangerous levels. Your only hope is to reduce your intake and use snail balm to slow the tell-tale signs of your maturity." He said, the weight of the words pressed heavily on Jinshi’s shoulders.

Jinshi grit his teeth as his gaze swept over the trio: Gaoshun solely had the decency to look properly grave; Luomen amused; and Maomao—she was practically purring with glee, imaginary tail flicking excitedly, eyes wild with mischief. His knuckles whitened on the armrests, and a muscle twitched at his jaw.

"It appears," Luomen added cheerfully, "you’ve inherited the Ka family libido. Congratulations. Your... appetites are too strong to be suppressed, even by the most potent substances," Luomen said, calmly surveying Jinshi’s deteriorating composure, the younger man growing ashen. "Given your concerns about recent... control issues, it’s likely that your desire has intensified under the influence of the suppressants. Without them, I fear it may be significantly worse—especially considering how long you've been taking them." His tone was far too casual for the gravity of what he was saying. The white haired man paused, thoughtful. "My advice is to begin tapering your intake slowly. A sudden stop could be... catastrophic. And while your libido remains so, ah, vigorous, some... manual release may help mitigate the worst of the side effects." He sipped his tea delicately, as if this conversation were no more serious than prescribing a simple headache remedy.

"Surely you’re not suggesting..." Jinshi spluttered, scandalized. His voice squarked and his ears turned a violent shade of crimson.

"Master Luomen, there must be another solution," Gaoshun said hurriedly, bowing low. A sheen of panic had appeared across his brow, and his hands twitched nervously in front of him.

"Well," Luomen said with exaggerated thoughtfulness, "there are services your master could procure. I’m certain one of Maomao’s sisters would be more than willing to assist." He didn’t bother to hide the glimmer in his eye.

Jinshi turned a shade of red that bordered on purple; Gaoshun looked equally horrified. There was a long, horrified beat where no one moved.

"I... I would never...." Jinshi tried, but his voice caught somewhere in his throat.

"Ah, yes," Luomen interrupted with a smirk. "The rumors. They say the Moon Prince is soon to be wed. Some even claim the Emperor himself has given his blessing. It’s all the servants talk about these days. Unfortunately, I cannot provide any more assistance as nature must take its course." He gave a solemn shrug, as if he truly believed the matter to be out of his hands.

“I’m sure we can find you a manual, Master Jinshi,” Gaoshun fretted, fussing over the now-mumbling prince, whose face had drained of all color.

Luomen bowed gracefully as Maomao took his arm, guiding him from the room. Her movements were fluid, graceful, but Jinshi could feel the amused satisfaction radiating off her as Goashun fretted beside him.

“Was that really necessary?” she asked, a smirk playing on her lips. 

“Strictly speaking, no,” Luomen replied, shaking his head as he lifted his basket. “But it won’t hurt. This farce has gone on long enough. He’s a young man—it’s time he let go of the past and embraced his future. The kingdom deserves that freedom from that terrible period of time, and Master Jinshi too." He adjusted his basket with practiced ease, though his eyes betrayed a flicker of regret.

He paused at the door. “Now, come. Let’s harvest some chamomile. We’ll need its soothing properties.” His tone became light again, almost too breezy for the words he’d left behind.

Maomao nodded, collecting her own basket. It might also be wise to gather an abortifacient, she mused silently. There were some that grew along the wild edge of the palace walls, thick in the hedgerows where the shadows pooled longest, where the soil was rich and damp. The plants she sought had small white blossoms and a bitter tang, easily overlooked by the untrained eye. If even half the tales about Lady Gyokuyou were true—and Maomao had no reason to doubt them—and if Master Jinshi was anything like the Emperor, you would be in for many sleepless nights. Her lips twitched into a grimace of knowing. Perhaps it’s time to pay you a visit—especially if Jinshi’s recent panic is anything to go by. Clearly, something had happened... but what? She narrowed her eyes slightly, already plotting. Yes, she would take some with her when she visited you, then perhaps she might pick the book up at the same time. The old woman was already hounding her to get it back—nagging in increasingly inventive curses and threats, as if the worn text were a priceless heirloom rather than an explicitly drawn sex manal. Maomao sighed. Best to kill two birds with one trip—,besides getting into the Lady's good book might be the only way to procure samples from Master Jinshi. To make a tincture that was resistant to anaphrodisiacs and might increase desire would be worth a fortune! Maomao’s eyes light up, in a way that would make even the old lady proud.

“Are you coming?”

“Yes, Father,” Maomao called, clearing her throat, sprinting out of the office before Gaoshun or Jinshi could come after her. Her giggle barely muffled, echoed off the corridor walls.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It wasn’t until late that night that Maomao was finally allowed into the inner palace, clutching a small glass vial tightly in her sleeve. A simple sleeping tincture, she’d told them—to ease the anxiety over a father’s absence. That was the official story. But the truth was more dangerous. More… inconvenient.

Carrying an abortifacient in the palace was always a risk, no matter how well-hidden or obscure the compound. It wasn't technically illegal outside the rear palae, but explaining herself—should it be discovered—would be... difficult. Very difficult. Especially when the truth involved your or Master Jinshi.

She found you in your chambers. A lone maid directed her in; the rest of the household had long been asleep. The lamp still burned low, though your brothers had long since been put to bed by their nursemaid. 

Maomao bowed, the bottle still clenched in her hand. “My Lady.”

You blinked up at her, the book she had given you was open on the table, you made no attempt to conceal it. “I didn’t expect to see you tonight, little apothecary.” You smiled from your seat at the window, hand still on the page 

“Nor did I think I would need to visit so soon... but recent developments led me to believe otherwise,” Maomao said, with a tone that might have passed for polite concern if one ignored the fact her eyes were narrowing like a cat sizing up an overly bold pigeon. "Let’s call it... a hunch. Or an unfortunate habit of curiosity."

You straightened in your seat, eyes widening. Maomao, ever the observer, mused privately that you’d make a fine distraction—for him. Poised and elegant, with a foreign beauty distinctly unlike Jinshi’s own—and a figure that would surely not disappoint him. And with  his attention focused solely on you, perhaps she could go a whole week without getting dragged into some ridiculous affair involving murder or being kidnapped. Though she would still quite like to be involved in any poison related issues.

“Why? What did he say?” you asked, blinking with a nervous edge.

“He said nothing,” Maomao replied. “Only that he met briefly with my adopted father... to discuss the increase of his suppressant as he found the need for better control over certain—wild urges. So I thought I would bring you this as you requested.”

You glanced at the vial, eyes gleaming. “Is that the...?”

“A sleeping potion. Yes. Three drops is all that you will require,” Maomao said smoothly. “It is rather potent. A favourite among certain women of my acquaintance. Taken daily you should sleep without any worry.” There was an edge of dry amusement in her voice as she added, “But, if you’d like additional reassurance that you’ll have a peaceful night’s sleep, I can also prepare a tea blend. Very calming. It may help ease concerns about... unexpected consequences of not sleeping.” Maomao faced a picture of blankness as you looked at you as you inspected the vial.

To her satisfaction, you caught on quickly.

You smoothed your expression and placed the vial gently on the table. “I thank you. The tea would be most welcome. I do worry about the dangers of sleepless nights  in the current climate—especially after such brief contact with what certainly felt like a rather large problem. It left me with... mixed emotions about sleep.”

Your gaze sharpened suddenly, and Maomao couldn’t help but notice how much your eyes resembled those of a soldier staring down a formidable opponent. Steely and sharp. A shiver traced her spine, recalling her own fleeting skirmish with the young master.

“I too was filled with many emotions during my brief... encounter with the same problem,” Maomao admitted, head dipping down as she let out a low ick of disgust.

Your mouth fell slightly open. “You... and he...?”

Maomao flailed her hands, shaking her head furiously. “No! Never. It was an unfortunate incident by a waterfall. A mere brush. Stupid frog.”

You blinked. “Frog?”

“Yes. A rather stupid, slimy frog. One that had no business being that... well-sized.” Her face darkened. 

You stared, eyes a confused mix of disbelief and suspicion—one Maomao worried might eventually result in her being beheaded in the not so distant future.

“So you didn’t. Not even once?” you asked slowly.

“NO!” Maomao sniffed, nose turned up in disgust.

“Really?”

“Yes!”

“You weren’t even tempted? Did he not try to… I mean... I always thought it was a matter of grinning and bearing it—but it felt good to feel it against me... I would be tempted to—”

Maomao lunged forward and clapped a hand over your mouth, practically falling into your lap.

“Please don’t finish that sentence,” she muttered, horrified. “There are some things I’m perfectly content not knowing. “Honestly, I’d rather have been boiling horse dung that do anything like that, especially with him....”

You giggled behind her hand. She scowled.

“Not even once,” she grumbled, releasing you and slumping into the seat beside you. “As much of a pain as Master Jinshi is, he’s not like that. He’s... a good man. If not a masochist.” Her voice dipped into something dangerously close to fondness—so she coughed sharply and added, “And a complete idiot.”

“Well, I suppose I should thank you for diverting his attention to me. But don’t think that gets you out of our little arrangement,” you said with a sly giggle as Maomao’s look of triumphant relief collapsed into one of sour annoyance.

“I like you, Maomao. You’re practical and sly—like myself. We do what we must to protect ourselves.”You spoke gently poured a clear amber liquid into a pair of small cups.

“That’s... alcohol?” she purred, peering in with interest and a healthy dose of suspicion.

“It is. I grew fond of it at my father’s training camps. Drink.”

Maomao eyed it with a glee. Then she downed it in one swift gulp—only to gape as you did the same, then poured another.

And another.

You drank in silence.

“You don’t strike me as someone who goes from camp to camp, drinking hard liquor,” Maomao muttered after another sip. The alcohol hit like an ox cart—wooden wheels and all much stronger than what you could get from the Vengdris house .

“It’s the curse of gender,” you replied. “We can’t behave as we’d like—so we learn to tolerate the life we’re given. You a simple apothecary instead of a doctor... and me, a general’s daughter instead of a general.”

“You’d make a fine strategist.”

 “Surprisingly, I get that from my mother, not my father,” you said with a faint smile, refilling the cups carefully. “She fell for my father, orchestrated their courtship, helped him climb the ranks, and made sure I had the best tutors. Let me roam the training grounds freely, too. I didn’t have many female friends growing up—they didn’t like my... unreally nature.But here we are,” you continued, chuckling softly, “talking over drinks in the middle of the night.”

Maomao’s expression didn’t soften, but her voice dropped to a quiet murmur. “I didn’t have many friends either. I am not good at polite chatter or pretending to care about other people’s feelings. Poisons are easier. At least you know they will kill you if they get the chance.”

“We all have are little forbals,” you said, nodding knowingly. “Still it is good to have peopel that you trust I do tend to bite harder than I bark. ”

Maomao blinked, eyes widening. “Please save that for Master Jinshi. I’m sure he’d appreciate the biting more than I would.”

A brief smile tugged at your lips. “Fair enough. Allies then?”

Another pause, then Maomao shrugged, almost reluctantly. “I suppose there are worse people to drink with.”

You leaned closer, conspiratorial. “Now. Tell me honestly—that cannot be normal. The size of it. Nowhere in that damn book does it mention anything like that. Why did it feel so good just... against me? And why could I not even finish on my own—”

Maomao dropped her head to the table with a groan. “I have not have enough booze for this.  I’ll find you a new book. One with illustrations. Proper ones. Annotated, even to help you deal with that overgrown amphibian.” She reached for the bottle. ‘’We are going to need more bottles.”

“Drink as much as you like,” you said, grinning wickedly. “We have much to discuss. I need to know everything if I’m going to go compete with Jinshi. Hmmm do you think your sister could help me?”

Maomao didn’t even bother pouring a cup, instead she drank straight from the bottle, earning her a gleeful giggle as you nursed your own cup.

Xxxxxxxxxxx

Jinshi gripped the edge of the desk, knuckles reddening under the strain. His breath came in short, shallow huffs. The polished wood felt slick beneath his palms, but his mind conjured the sensation of it swaying—like the whole room was tilting under the weight of him. The fire had returned. Not on his skin this time, but beneath it—burning through blood and bone, sinking low in his stomach. A hunger curled in his gut, slow and insistent, gnawing like a starving beast.

It wasn’t like before.Back then, the desire had been a flicker something that he could dismiss with the suppressant. Inconvenience yes, but it was something he could dismiss with willpower and distraction. But now, it was no longer content to wait in the background. It pressed forward with every heartbeat, growing hotter, sharper, louder. There was a heaviness in his stomach, dragging downward until it coiled unbearably low. His thoughts came slow and muddy, slipping away with every brush of silk, every phantom memory of your voice. Even the lightest breath of air made his cock ache, where it stood against his stomach weeping and hot, tucked safely into the band of his inner robes.

He bit the inside of his cheek, hard enough to taste blood.

The stack of paperwork before him loomed, tall and unforgiving. He focused on it with desperate intensity, the way a drowning man might fixate on a piece of driftwood. Or they way a starved man looked at a bowl of rice.

If he processed the requests quickly enough, the supplies would reach the front. If they arrived in time, your father—the general—might live to see another sunrise. And if he lived… if he returned home victorious… maybe then he would allow Jinshi to seek you out.

He didn’t dare dream of more. Not of your hand in his. Not of a future built beside you. Not yet. But even the possibility of being allowed to want you openly—of confessing what bloomed in his chest whenever he thought of you—was enough to keep him upright. That fragile hope was all he had left.

You were not a balm for his lust or a fantasy to soothe his fevered nights. You were not a substitute. You were you. The one whose presence unraveled him, whose scorn still stirred a thrill deep in his chest. The one whose smile—rare and precious—had ruined him for any other.

"Master Jinshi, here is the new batch," Basen placed the towering pile of new documents beside him with careful precision, then stepped back, hands clasped in front of him.

Jinshi didn’t look up. He couldn’t. He was too aware of the sheen of sweat on his back, the way his tunic clung to his skin, the pulse pounding in his throat. If he opened his mouth, he wasn’t sure what might spill out.

Gaoshun stood quietly in the corner, arms posed in front of you, posture rigid with concern. His brow creased, his lips drawn thin in a silent frown. He waited a beat before speaking, his voice low and measured.

“Master Jinshi… perhaps you should lie down. I’ll send for a compress. Or another dose, something gentler. Just enough to ease the symptoms.”

“I’m fine,” Jinshi said through gritted teeth, sharper than intended.

The medicine did nothing. Laomen had said the adjustments would soften the effects—ease him into stability bit by bit till he could shake off the guise of Jinshi and take him place beside you as himself, not Jinshi or the Prince. But the reality was far worse, the reduction didn’t ease him in it sent him juddering to the point of insanity.The pressure had returned all at once, swelling inside him, a hunger he could no longer hold back.

“You haven’t slept,” Gaoshun added quietly. “Your body—”

“—is fine,” Jinshi snapped, refusing to look away from the paper before him. His hand trembled slightly as he reached for the inkstone.

Silence settled again. The quiet shuffle of feet announced Surien’s arrival. The elderly attendant entered with her usual grace, carrying a basin of cool water and a fresh cloth. She paused just inside the threshold, her expression gentle but firm.

“You’ll make yourself sick, my lord,” she said softly. “This heat in your body… it must go somewhere. It’s unnatural to keep it all inside. It is not weakness to listen to your body, young lord,” she added, stepping forward and gently dabbing at his sweat-soaked brow. Jinshi flinched at the touch, the coolness startling against overheated skin—but he did not pull away.

“I’ll be fine once I get through this,” he muttered, forcing each word. “There are supply requests from the northern outposts. If I sort them now, they’ll arrive before the next skirmish. The general—her father—will need everything if he’s to return safe. Steel, grain, horses. I have to finish this. I can’t be... distracted.”

Gaoshun exhaled slowly, his tone low with weary frustration. “No one questions your dedication. But you’re trying to outrun something that won’t stop chasing you.”

Suiren and Gaoshun exchanged a look. She sighed and wrung out the cloth, dabbing again. “We’ve discussed something,” Gaoshun said carefully. “A suggestion that might bring some relief.”

Jinshi’s brow furrowed.

“There are… other ways,” Surien said tactfully, her voice warm and calm. “Safe. Discreet. The red-light district offers... services. For your condition.”

Jinshi’s eyes widened. “You can’t be serious.”

“It’s common,” Gaoshun said evenly. “Normal, even. Many men your age—especially those under stress—find relief there. It could help until at least you are through the worst of the withdrawal. Basen can escort you, young men often go on excursions together to such places. It will not draw any attention”

Basen went rigid. “W-why am I being dragged into this?! I’m not—I’ve never—”

“No,” Jinshi said, his voice like steel. His cheeks burned, but he didn’t lift his gaze. “I don’t want that.”

“You need relief,” Gaoshun repeated more gently now. “Delaying it could worsen your condition.”

“I don’t want strangers,” Jinshi growled. His fingers dug into the table. “I don’t want... meaningless hands.” He inhaled, and when he spoke again, it was barely above a whisper. “I don’t want anyone but her.”

The words rang through the room.

Surien lowered her eyes with a soft nod. Gaoshun said nothing.

Jinshi reached for another scroll, fingers trembling. He pressed the seal down harder than necessary, the wax smearing slightly. “If I finish this... if I do everything right... the supplies will reach her father. He has to survive. Otherwise...” He trailed off, voice cracking. “Otherwise, I don’t think she’ll ever forgive me.” Jinshi swallowed, his throat raw. “If he dies, I won’t be allowed near her. Not as Jinshi. Not as the Second Prince. Not as anything.”

Gaoshun stepped forward then, silent and sure. He placed a hand on Jinshi’s shoulder, steady, grounding. “Then we’ll see it done, Master Jinshi. Every seal. Every shipment. We’ll see it through.”

Jinshi gave a small nod, unable to speak.

He turned back to the parchment, jaw clenched so tightly it throbbed. The fire still blazed inside him. Wild and consuming, but he buried it beneath the weight of duty. If he kept going... if he worked faster... maybe it would be enough. Maybe it would save a man. Maybe it would earn him a chance.

Surien left the compress beside him without another word. She gave Basen’s shoulder a gentle pat as she passed. The poor aide still looked like a deer cornered in a tiger’s den.

“I’m staying here,” Jinshi said finally, voice low and unwavering. “With the paperwork. Until it’s done. Then I’ll take a sleeping draft and that...that is it. That is all.”

Gaoshun bowed his head. “As you wish.”

And so Jinshi worked. Not because he had to but because he loved you and this was the only way.

So...What do you think?

I needed both them reaching a pressure point. Jinshi suffering and the reader ready to exploit that in true power woman fashion. Either drama or smut is up next :P

Like. Comment. Request

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[muwapsturniolo]

Lost in Japan ᪥ M.Sturniolo

Do you got plans tonight?

⟢ tiny bit of angst, nothing crazy. longing, regret, old faces with a past seeing eachother and wanting to rekindle what once was....possible for a part 2???

@bernardsbendystraws for divider

Matt felt like the air had been knocked clean out of his lungs. For a moment, he just sat there, frozen, as if time had stopped for everyone except him. But in his head, everything was racing—memories of the two of you hitting him all at once, like a slideshow on fast-forward: your first late-night walk in the city, your voice humming over a glass of wine, the way you used to smile at him when you thought he wasn’t looking.

And now here you were. Real. Close.

You looked stunning—effortlessly so. Your skin glowed under the soft, golden light of the rooftop terrace. That laugh of yours rang out over the quiet murmur of clinking glasses and designer small talk. You were doubled over with joy, trying to stuff a piece of sushi into the mouth of one of your equally beautiful model friends, both of you giggling like teenagers. He could tell from the way your cheeks were flushed and your gestures exaggerated—you’d definitely had a little too much soju.

He should’ve known you'd be here. Of course you would be. You were one of the faces of the campaign, a Guess brand ambassador, practically the reason this dinner was happening. Still, nothing had prepared him for the moment he realized he was seated just three chairs down from you, close enough to catch the scent of your perfume.

Burberry goddess.

“Talk to her,” Chris said, his voice cutting through the clink of silverware and muted rooftop chatter.

Matt didn’t respond. He just stared down into his ramen, steam rising and curling into the night air. His grip on the chopsticks tightened slightly.

Chris exhaled—long and theatrical. “Bro, seriously. You’ve been looking at her like you forgot how to breathe. Just go say something.”

Matt shook his head once. “No.”

Chris raised an eyebrow. “Why not?”

“Because,” Matt said, barely above a whisper. “We were never… anything.”

Chris leaned in, frowning. “What are you talking about? You two were inseparable. Always texting. Always showing up together. You can’t fake that kind of connection.”

Matt gave a dry laugh. “We were close. That’s it. No labels. No fights. Just... time passing until we weren’t close anymore.”

His eyes flicked back toward you across the table. You were standing now, mid-laugh, trying to pull a friend into a group photo. You looked radiant—your dress hugging your figure in all the right ways. Your smile hadn’t changed. Big, reckless, real.

God, he missed that smile.

Chris followed his gaze. “She’s not gonna bite, you know. This isn’t some tragic ending. You didn’t cheat. She didn’t ghost you. You just... fell off.”

Matt’s jaw tensed. “Exactly. Which makes it worse somehow. There wasn’t even a reason.”

He watched as you tilted your head, laughed at something, and leaned into someone else's shoulder.

It wasn’t jealousy. Not really.

It was the ache of being known by someone once—and now being a stranger.

The dinner wrapped up in a blur of clinking glasses and polite goodbyes. Matt stood near the back of the crowd as people filtered toward the elevators, some wobbling slightly in heels, others already deep in afterparty plans. He kept his head down, hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket, but his eyes found you immediately.

You were standing just ahead, laughing, your hand resting lightly on a friend’s arm as you waited for the elevator to arrive. The soft golden light made your skin glow, and the loose strands of your hair danced gently as the rooftop breeze chased them. Matt swallowed hard.

Talk to her, Chris’s words echoed again in his mind. You’ll regret it if you don’t.

The elevator dinged. The doors slid open.

Bodies packed in quickly—too many, probably, but no one cared. Matt hesitated for a second before stepping in, barely making it through the closing doors. You were already inside, tucked into the opposite corner. And somehow, in all the crowded chaos, your eyes found his.

It wasn’t a stare. Just a flicker. A glance that lingered a second too long.

Matt looked away, pretending to adjust the collar of his jacket. His heart was beating faster now. He could feel the heat of the elevator, the scent of perfume and cologne and too much expensive wine. But then—there it was again. That pull.

He glanced back.

You were smiling softly now, like you knew something he didn’t. Like a secret was floating between you in that tight little box, just waiting to be spoken.

Your eyes met his, steady this time. Curious. Playful. Dangerous.

The elevator jolted slightly as it descended. Someone behind Matt chuckled about weight limits. Someone else hiccuped. But none of it mattered. For a moment, all Matt could feel was you across from him—the tension, the electricity, the thousand unsaid things hanging in the space between.

You raised an eyebrow—just a tiny lift, but it said a lot.

Matt tilted his head, lips twitching like he might smile.

Okay, he thought. Maybe it’s not too late.

The drive back to the hotel was a blur. City lights streaked past the window, a hazy mix of gold and red, but Matt barely saw any of it. His mind was still back in that elevator. With you.

Now, fresh out of the shower, steam still clinging to the mirror and skin warm from the water, he sat at the edge of the bed in a white hotel robe, hair damp and messy. Elbows on his knees, head bowed slightly—thinking of you.

How your eyes had met his in that elevator. How your smile had tugged at something deep inside him. How the air had felt thick with something unspoken.

He was just about to stand, maybe pour a drink, maybe go down to the bar to meet Chris, when—

Knock knock.

Soft. Barely there. But enough to pull him out of his thoughts.

He sighed, already assuming it was Chris or Nick coming to drag him out. Probably to rehash the dinner or tease him about you again.

He crossed the room, swinging the door open with a tired, mildly annoyed look on his face.

And then he froze.

It was you.

Not a memory. Not a dream.

You.

The same dress from earlier hugged your figure, but now it was layered with something achingly familiar—his old leather jacket. The one you used to steal when you stayed over. The one he hadn’t realized was missing until right now.

Your expression was calm, but your eyes held a flicker of mischief. Like this wasn’t a mistake. Like you knew exactly what you were doing.

“Do you got plans tonight?” you asked, casually. Like you weren’t standing in his doorway looking like every regret he ever had and every chance he was afraid to take.

It took him a second to process the words. His mind had stalled somewhere between the sight of you in his jacket and the realization that this moment might change everything.

“Huh?”

Matt blinked, still trying to catch up. You smiled, brushing past him with an easy confidence, like you owned the place—like you always had. The scent of your perfume followed you in, warm and familiar, laced with something that made his pulse skip.

You made your way to the bed and plopped down without hesitation, crossing one leg over the other. His leather jacket slid off your shoulder just slightly as you leaned back on your palms, looking at him like this was the most normal thing in the world.

“I said,” you repeated, teasing, “Do you got plans tonight? I was thinking we could go out. You know—explore, talk, maybe get lost for a little while.”

Matt’s heart gave a small jolt. The casualness of your voice didn’t hide the weight behind the offer—at least not to him. Not after everything.

Explore. Talk. Maybe find the version of you two that still existed in the spaces between memories.

He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to play it cool, but the corners of his mouth were already lifting. “Depends,” he said, voice a little lower than before. “What kind of ‘exploring’ are we talking about?”

You shrugged, your eyes locked on his. “City lights. Street food. Neon signs. Maybe a rooftop or two. Maybe just walking and pretending the rest of the world doesn’t exist.”

Matt laughed softly, unable to help it. “So basically… exactly what we used to do.”

You grinned, a reminiscent look in your eyes. “Exactly.”

For a moment, the room was quiet—thick with the kind of silence that feels alive. The kind that says we’ve been here before, and we might just find our way back.

Matt looked at you again—legs tucked under his jacket, that same spark in your eyes he thought he’d never get to see this close again—and felt something loosen in his chest.

“Give me five minutes,” he said, already turning back toward the bathroom. “I’ll get dressed.”

You leaned back further onto the bed, smiling to yourself. “Don’t take too long. I’ve got plans with you tonight.”

[thatcoolweirdgirlwrites]

No Other Heart ♡ || S.B

Sirius Black x Fem!reader

part one, part two

Word Count: 4.3k

Warnings: hurt-comfort, Slow-burn, unrequited feelings (but not really), emotional angst, mutual pining, miscommunication, friends to lovers (eventually), jealousy, soft!Sirius, Use of Y/N once I think??

Summary: After a quiet apology letter, you and Sirius become friends. real ones. But just as feelings begin to stir beneath the surface, you agree to a setup with someone else. Sirius watches from the sidelines, aching to say something but convinced he's not what you deserve. He pulls away. You try not to care. Then one night, he shows up with another girl-and something in you snaps. What neither of you realize is that love has already rooted itself quietly in the spaces between. And Sirius? He never stopped listening. Even as a dog.

Authors' Notes: BOOMSHAKALAKA FOLKS! ANOTHER PART DOWN. This took barely any time I was invested in it. Im gonna make it even longer next time. They are both SO DUMB OMG I need to stop making it like this... but where's the fun in that. I love Lily but I have her the matchmaking skills on a rock. Yes my titles are Mac Demarco songs. Anywayssss... Lmk if you want another part. (not proofread)

Thank you for reading, my lovelies!! (Fic below cut)

The letter was folded neatly, tucked into the side of Sirius' pillow. James hadn’t said anything when he passed it off. But he offered a soft knowing look as he watch the grey-eyed boy toss it into his trunk at the foot of his bed.

Sirius didn’t open it for a while. Not until two days later, on Sunday Night.

He stared at it for a while, silently as the other boys slept in their designated beds. His name in your messy, but somehow eligible handwriting was written crookedly over the front of the parchment.

His first instinct was to toss it back into the drawer. Out of sight, out of mind. But he didn’t.

Instead, sometime around two in the morning, he sat up and opened it with steady hands. He had no idea why he chose to do it now — why he couldn't have waited until morning — but he didn't ponder too long before unfolding it and letting his eyes scan it.

Your words weren’t long. They weren’t flowery or exaggerated. They weren’t romantic,

But they were honest.

His heart stuttered a bit at the last three sentences of your letter.

We don’t really know each other. But maybe we could.

If you want.

Then his eyes widened when he noticed the small heart in the right corner of the page. His fingers grip tightened ever so slightly on the papers edges. There was a small heart in sloppy ink.

Sirius read the last line again. And again. Looked at the heart over and over. Then folded the letter carefully, more carefully than he’s ever treated something as fragile as paper, and tucked it back inside the trunk.

The rest of the night was not filled with sleep. It was filled with the silence and the racing thoughts in his head.

–

The next morning, Sirius didn’t go down to breakfast with the boys.

James noticed, but he didn’t push. Just gave Sirius a glance over as he tossed on his robes and muttered something about giving Lily a chocolate frog before class. Remus and Peter weren't far behind James in leaving.

Sirius lingered behind. He kept re-reading the letter in his head. He had the words practically memorized from how many times he read it the previous night.

We don’t really know each other. But maybe we could.

If you want.

He wasn’t used to this feeling. The uncertainty. He couldn't tell if it was meant to be friendly or meant to be laced with the promise of something... more? But either way it made his chest flutter and tighten all at once.

After a few more minutes of dragging his feet as he walked around getting ready — spending most of that time in his hair, of course — He threw on his robes and left the common room with a singular goal in mind: find you.

Except—

You didn’t share any classes with him on Monday's. Not one.

He hadn’t realized how little he actually saw you unless James and Lily orchestrated it. It was a bit pathetic, really. He didn’t even know your full schedule.

So he searched. Not for any reason in particular. He just wanted you to know that he got the letter. That he does want to get to know you. As friends, of course.

⸻

He started in the Great Hall, eyes sweeping across the Gryffindor table. Not there.

Then the library. Nope.

He hovered by the shelves for a few minutes, pretending to scan a book, before slipping out again.

Greenhouses? No luck.

Transfiguration corridor? No.

Astronomy tower — pointless. Still morning, why would anyone be up there?

He even — Merlin help him — checked the girls’ lavatory on the second floor, lingering awkwardly by the wall until a Hufflepuff gave him a sharp look and he muttered something about “looking for someone.”

Just as he was considering giving up, he turned a corner on the third floor and nearly collided with you.

Sirius-ly.

⸻

You let out a startled breath as your shoulder bumped hard into something solid — or rather, someone solid.

Your book nearly slipped from your grip, but a hand caught it before it fell.

"Careful," He huffed in amusement, but his eyes were wider, as if he was shocked to have found you. "Wouldn't want someone to ram over you... not a lot of people are considerate of where they're going"

His tone was soft and not one bit demeaning, or condescending, or... mad? You thought he would be at least a little pissy about what happened in Friday, considering he never got back to you on Saturday or Sunday after you sent him the letter.

You had spent hours worrying yourself, rambling to Lily about how bad you felt. All of the girls could confirm this. They spent their time listening to you — though Marlene complained quite a bit.

But here he stood, not mad. Instead he just looked relieved.

He handed you your book and because you were you, of course you didn't say a word and just walked away quickly, your cheeks flushing. He didn't seem to take it terribly.

He didn't seem to take it at all actually. He followed beside you, looking down at your face as you avoided his gaze locking on yours.

"I got your letter. I've been trying to find you- wait, that makes me sound like a creep- let me start over." He takes a breath.

"Thank you. For apologizing — I mean. I get why you got upset. What I said wasn't the best... I was being a prick. I'm just glad you're not upset with me. Or angry. I thought you would be angry-"

Your head turns up to look at him, your brows furrowing in confusion. "Thought I'd be mad at you? I literally ruined the night, if anything you should've mad at me!" you say quietly, but you felt a wave of relief wash over you. "You don't seem to be, though. At all."

He let out something between a scoff and a laugh. "Yeah, 'course I'm not. You had every right to be upset."

Every turn you made, he seemed to follow, and even though it was silent the rest of the way it was not uncomfortable. It felt natural.

When you get to your next class you turn to him. "You just walked me to class." You say with a hint of amusement. "Only my friends do that."

"Well we are, Aren't we? It sounded like you wanted to be. In the letter at least" He sounded a bit hopeful and you couldn't help the smile that tugged at your lips.

"Yeah I guess so... You want to be?" You ask softly.

"Yeah. Yeah I do." He nods once, a big grin on his face.

⸻

Over the next few weeks things started to develop between you two.

You and Sirius had fallen into something that was starting to resemble a real friendship. Not forced by James or Lily, not born of proximity or obligation. Real.

It started small. He would find excuses to sit beside you in the common room. Walk you to class, even if it meant detouring through three corridors and past the moving staircases. He’d lean a little closer than necessary when he made a joke, elbow brushing yours, voice low and warm.

You noticed he remembered things. Tiny, insignificant things. How you took your tea, the weird way you liked to annotate your textbooks, the song you always hummed when you were anxious. He never commented, just quietly adjusted to fit those details into how he interacted with you. It was barely noticeable, but it was there.

You liked being around him.

⸻

Sirius noticed it before he could stop himself.

One night, you were curled up in a chair near the fire, your legs tucked under you, talking quietly with Lily and Dorcas. Your laughter caught his ear from across the room. His head turned on instinct.

He didn’t mean to watch you. Not in a creepy way. It was just that his eyes always seemed to know where you were now. Like some invisible string kept tugging his gaze in your direction.

And when he saw you — when he really saw you — he realized how badly he wanted to be the reason you smiled like that. How much he wanted to reach out, take your hand, and have it mean something.

But you didn’t see it.

Why would you?

You thought you were just friends. And Sirius, for all his arrogance and theatrics, didn’t know how to tell you otherwise. Not without ruining what he already had. He didn't think he even deserved to have something as wonderful as you. He didn't earn it.

So instead of saying anything, he tried showing you.

He saved you a seat next to him at every meal. He walked you back to your dorm even when it was far out of his way. He offered you his scarf when you forgot yours. He listened, even when it was nonsense or rambling or about books he didn’t understand.

He thought maybe you’d start to notice.

But then came Louis.

Louis was a Ravenclaw in your year. Tall, sharp-featured, and good on paper. He had the kind of charm that didn’t require effort. The kind of aura that Lily mistook for maturity.

She set it up casually. She said he’d be good for you. kept mentioning how you needed someone who could “match your brain.”

You weren’t convinced, but you were tired of dodging setups, and Louis seemed nice enough. You said yes.

The first date was… fine. The second? Less so.

By the third, you were drained.

Louis didn’t ask about your day. He didn’t laugh at your jokes, he would just act like he already knew the punchline and didn’t find it that clever. He cut you off mid-sentence more than once, correcting your word choice like it was a personal favor.

“You know, if you’re going to use big words, you should be sure they fit the context,” he had said once, with a self-satisfied grin, like he was helping.

He didn’t listen when you spoke. Just waited for his turn to talk. Sometimes not even taking the time to wait and rambling on with his story over yours.

On your third date, as you were jotting something in the margins of a book you brought along, he glanced at your handwriting and made a face.

“That’s… a lot of loops,” he said almost scoldingly, before letting out a short laugh. “You know, most people would take you more seriously if your writing didn’t look like a first-year’s diary.”

You blinked, unsure if he was joking. He wasn’t.

Later, as you tried to explain why you loved annotated margins, he interrupted again.

“It’s cute, really. How into your little world you get. You seem way more confident around books than you do around people. Like real conversations aren’t really your thing.”

And then, with a self-assured smirk that made your stomach turn, he added, “Don’t worry, though. I’m used to quiet girls. You don’t have to impress me.”

He said it like a compliment, But it didn’t feel like one.

It felt like you were being diminished, one dismissive comment at a time.

The whole time you just smiled through it, like it wasn't tearing at your skin and the reason you felt so... low.

⸻

Until one night, after he walked you back from the library, he didn’t even say goodbye. He just muttered something about you being “too sensitive” when you’d went quiet at a rude comment.

You didn't say anything. You didn't do anything. You really thought you liked him. Maybe this was his way of showing me he likes me too, you thought. Deep down you knew it wasn't.

You had never been in love, but you knew for a fact you didn't want a boyfriend who treated you like this. This would never be love.

You stood there for a long moment after he left. Frozen. Staring at the floor. Wondering why you kept trying to force something that felt so wrong.

And of course, Sirius was there. Leaning against the wall near the stairwell with his arms crossed over his chest.

You looked up and blinked when you were met with those dark grey eyes right in front of yours. "How long have you been-?"

“Long enough." he said quietly.

You didn’t say anything for a while. Neither did he.

Then, so softly you almost missed it, Sirius added, “You look tired.”

That cracked something in you.

You let out a shaky breath, leaning your back against the wall across from him.

“I don’t get it,” you muttered, your voice rough. “He’s supposed to be this perfect guy. Smart, polite, put-together. But it’s like he talks at me, not to me. Like I’m not even there. Like I could disappear mid-sentence and he wouldn’t notice.”

There was a pause before you whispered, "Lily told me We would be perfect together. She insisted he was just my type... made for me."

You laughed bitterly, swiping under your eyes quickly in case anything threatened to fall. You were not crying. Not in front of him.

"She wouldn't steer me wrong. She knows that I just want to be seen without all the dramatics."

Sirius stepped forward once with his eyes still locked on yours.

“You should never have to ask to be seen,” he said. It was so sincere that it made your chest ache.

You met his gaze, and for a second it felt like the world had slowed.

He was standing in front of you, close enough to touch, and he was looking at you like you were the only real thing in the world. No pity or judgment, just quiet understanding. Something warm and something you didn’t quite recognize.

“Thank you,” you whispered.

“For what?”

“For… I don’t know, being here.”

Sirius opened his mouth like he wanted to say something. But he didn’t. He just gave you the smallest smile. It didn't quite reach his eyes, but to you it seemed genuine enough.

⸻

That night, when he got back to his dorm, Sirius sat on the edge of his bed staring at the letter you’d written weeks ago.

He pulled it from the trunk and unfolded it like it was sacred, with careful hands.

His eye went down to the tiny heart in the corner. He didn't know that Marlene had doodled that on there.

We don’t really know each other. But maybe we could.

If you want.

God, he wanted to. So bad.

It was tearing him up inside, watching you try to find something you already had. Something he would give you if you just gave him a try. He swore to himself he could put back that sparkle that had once been in your eyes.

Sirius saw you. Every expression and every inflection in your voice. He saw every crack in your smile that no one else seemed to notice — he saw all of it, and he adored you for it.

But he didn’t deserve to.

You were so gentle and earnest. The kind of person who left notes for people and meant every word. The kind of person who laughed with their whole chest when something was funny and stayed behind to help professors clean up even when you didn’t have to.

You weren’t meant for someone like him. He was messy and cruel and stained by the name that he carried.

You deserved someone better.

Someone smarter. More put-together. Louis — for all his flaws and his massive ego— at least looked the part.

Sirius ran his hands through his hair, feeling something tight twist in his chest.

It would be selfish to keep this going. To let himself orbit around you like some pathetic satellite, when all it did was mess with your gravity.

You didn’t need him clinging to your side like some lost dog with grey eyes and too many emotions.

So he made a decision.

He shoved the letter back in the trunk. He shut the lid.

And he tried to shut the feeling down with it.

He started pulling away the next day.

It was small at first. Barely noticeable.

He didn’t wait for you outside of Charms. He sat across from you at dinner instead of beside you. He didn’t offer to walk you back when it was dark, just nodded and said, “Night.”

You tried not to let it sting.

Maybe he was just busy, or distracted, or going through something.

You didn’t want to jump to conclusions, however he was just there yesterday... what happened?

As time went on he stopped making sarcastic comments under his breath when walking past people he didn't particularly like. He didn’t lean his chair toward you during group study that Lily planned. You both only started going when becoming friends with one another. He didn't pass you sweets under the table during Hang-outs.

The space between you started to widen and it broke your heart in a way you didn’t quite understand.

Because weren’t you just friends?

⸻

“He’s pulling away.”

You were lying across Lily’s bed one night, head hanging upside-down over the edge as your arms dangled toward the floor. The dorm was quiet aside from the rustling of blankets and the occasional flipping of a magazine.

Dorcas, who was seated cross-legged on the floor, raised a brow. “Who’s pulling away?”

“Sirius.” You sighed, voice muffled into the duvet. “It’s like he’s avoiding me. I don’t know what I did.”

Marlene snorted. “You didn’t do anything. That boy’s too emotionally constipated to handle actual feelings. He probably caught a glimpse of his own vulnerability and fled the scene.”

You let out a weak laugh. “We're friends and there are no feelings. I think I messed up. It’s not funny."

I wasn’t trying to be.” Marlene tossed a pillow at your leg. “I mean it. He’s probably losing his mind about you and just doesn’t know how to handle it.”

Lily leaned against the headboard, frowning gently. “You like him.”

“What?” You blinked at her, flipping over to sit upright.

“You like him, Y/N." she repeated. “You’re rambling about him every night, you smile when you talk about him, and when he’s not around, your mood shifts. I don’t know how I didn’t see it before.”

Your lips parted, but no sound came out. You stared down at your lap.

“I don’t…” You began, then stopped.

“That’s usually how it happens,” Dorcas said, her voice gentler now.

"And you would know this because..?"

"Because that's love." She said in quiet amusement. "

One day you’re just talking, and the next you realize they’ve woven themselves into your bloodstream.”

And hadn’t he? In his quiet gestures and his steady gaze, in the way he saw you when you felt invisible.

Now it felt like that string between you had been tugged too tight. Like you were reaching across a gap that he had created...

and you didn’t know why.

It wasn't love. It couldn't be... You were friends.

⸻

You tried to push the feelings down.

You really did.

You told yourself it was just a phase. A passing crush brought on by too much proximity and not enough sleep. You were friends. He never said otherwise and even if you had imagined something in the way his eyes lingered on you, or the way he always remembered your favorite kind of tea, or the way he said your name like it mattered… well. That was your mistake.

So you swallowed it.

You laughed when Lily teased you. You nodded politely when she said maybe Louis had been a fluke, and that there were “other fish in the Great Lake.” You focused on your studies. You stayed late in the library and kept your head down. For a little while, it worked.

Until her.

Her name was Celia. A Ravenclaw. She was pretty and effortlessly charming in that way some girls are. It was all confidence and smooth smiles and perfect eyeliner.

She was sitting beside Sirius one evening in the common room, perched on the arm of his chair like she belonged there. Her hand rested lightly on his shoulder, and she laughed too loudly at something he said. You didn't notice the tension in my arms when he felt her touch.

You felt it the moment you walked in. The way your stomach dropped and way your pulse kicked up, just enough to make your hands shake as you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear and tried not to stare.

Lily glanced between you as you sat down and the pair across the room. Her expression softened. “You okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” you said too quickly, voice strained. “He can do what he wants.”

Lily didn’t push. She just gave your shoulder a squeeze and let it go.

Sirius wasn’t laughing the way he used to. His smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. He nodded at what Celia said, but his gaze kept wandering over her shoulder and towards you.

Once. Twice. Three times.

He was looking at you — really looking — like he couldn’t stop.

And every time your eyes met his, you looked away first. Your cheeks were burning red and your eyes stung. Why were you being so emotional. It's not like he's your boyfriend. You don't even like him and clearly he doesn't like you either.

Get over it.

You got up before they could see the expression on your face and muttered something about needing fresh air.

You didn’t see Sirius excuse himself barely a minute later. You didn’t hear the halfhearted excuse he gave Celia about being tired. You didn’t see the way his eyes trailed after you as you disappeared through the portrait hole, shoulders hunched.

She hadn’t been what he wanted. Not even close.

She had flirted with him all through study group last week, so he brought her around. It was easy and surface-level. She was pretty enough to keep his hands busy and his thoughts quieter.

But his thoughts had never quieted.

⸻

The hallway outside the Gryffindor common room was cold.

The stone wall pressed against your back as you sat curled up near the bottom of the staircase, knees to your chest, your sleeves tugged over your hands. The firelight from the portrait hole was faint now, barely reaching the corridor, and your breath came slow and quiet.

You didn’t cry.

Not yet.

You had no right to feel this way. You’d said you were fine. You really wanted to be fine. But the moment you saw her — with her hand on his shoulder, laughing into his ear like it was nothing — it all spiraled.

Why did it bother you so much?

Why did it hurt, if it was never yours?

You were just friends. He had said so himself. Or rather, he hadn’t said otherwise.

Still… it stung.

You weren’t sure how long you sat there like that — silent, still, and trying to slow the ache in your throat — when you heard it.

Soft footsteps then a pause. You heard the smallest sound of something sitting beside you.

You blinked, turning your head slowly to find… a dog.

A big, shaggy black dog, crouched beside you like it had been there the whole time. Its head tilted just slightly, its eyes were grey. Strikingly familiar, and too intelligent to be any ordinary creature. They were fixed on you, almost concerned.

“Where did you come from?” you asked, voice still a little hoarse.

The dog didn’t bark. He Just blinked at you.

You sniffled and looked away, swiping your sleeve under your nose. “Don’t look at me like that. I’m fine.”

The dog tilted its head.

You frowned and pulled your knees tighter against yourself. “I just needed some air. That’s not a crime, is it?”

It didn’t move. It just sat there quietly, like a shadow that didn’t mind staying until you were ready to stand.

“Y’know,” you muttered after a long stretch of silence, “you’re kind of a better listener than most boys I know.”

The dog huffed through its nose, almost sounding amused.

You smiled, but it didn’t last long. Your gaze dropped to your shoes again. “Do you ever think maybe… maybe the reason people don’t like you back is because there’s something wrong with you?” Your voice dropped to a whisper. “Like… they see something you don’t. Or maybe they just don’t see you."

The dog didn’t answer, obviously. But its nose nudged softly against your arm.

You glanced at it. “Do you think I’m stupid for caring?”

It whined once.

You laughed, softly and sadly, and looked down at your lap. “He brought her around like it didn’t matter. Like I was never even there. It’s stupid. We’re not even… he doesn’t even know.”

The dog rested its chin gently on your knee, warm and quiet and impossibly close.

You exhaled slowly. “You’re a good dog. We're friends, yeah? Maybe it's better than trying with real people." You place a soft kiss on the dogs head. "Thanks for sitting with me.”

And that was the moment Sirius knew he’d never be able to ignore it again. Every word you said tore into him. He wasn’t supposed to hear it — Not like this. But now that he had, he couldn’t pretend anymore.

You had noticed and it had hurt. You thought his heart belonged to another, but for him no other heart would do. None except yours.

And that changed everything.

[niaxbailey]

It was her turn to lean against the shelf, a brow arched in exaggeration— playing up her attentiveness. "I see, I see..." Nia hummed. Sounding every bit an open-minded audience to his argument, that was of course until he turned the subject onto the contents of her basket. "I'm very sorry," her shoulders sagged and a heavy sigh parted painted lips. "That you lack the fortitude to enjoy these fine inventions of human ingenuity. It must be difficult, to cast a questioning eye upon the creative usage of such fine ingredients." She'd barely managed to keep a straight face, but when her gaze swept to the marshmallows the teasing fell away to a soft wistful sort of expression. Miles away in an instant, "Everything is better dino shaped..." she offered the quote softly. She could picture it, that smug childlike smirk that had once occupied an all too familiar face. Suddenly aware of herself again Nia snapped her gaze from the basket to meet Cem's and offer a light, humble chuckle. "My youngest... he went through a whole phase. Everything had to be dinosaur shaped. Nuggets, gummies. I even bought some cookie cutters..." she'd burnt the cookies, to be fair, but she'd tried. Bless him, he'd only been about nine and he'd done his very best to eat one. Hard as a hockey puck, coal black. "Brother. My youngest brother," Nia caught herself and added when she realized the way she was talking about him. She was not a mother. She just, had a way of talking about her brothers like a parent might— a tone she'd earned. "No, no." Nia shook her head, "—That's hardly a red flag." Either option. "Mine is a proper cliche, a sweet tooth would be endearing by comparison." Before she quite got the chance to let her mind take that and spiral, again, Cem had craftily snuck in another all too easy compliment. The earnest kind that was difficult to swallow when you were down. "A'ight Mister Calm Wisdom ... whatever the hell that was," she waved at him with her free hand and straightened. "Shoo, shoo. Let's leave the crime scene and go find you a... gastrointestinal friendly treat." Purely for her own amusement she tacked on a gentle ribbing, "Old man."

Cem lets out a laugh—low, warm, and genuinely real—as he watches Nia work through her thoughts like she’s flipping through tabs open in her brain, one loading slower than the rest.

“Alright, first of all,” he says, while holding up a finger like he’s about to give a courtroom deposition, “I don’t hate fun. I just happen to believe that fun can coexist with gastrointestinal stability.”

He steps in a little closer, the edge of his shoulder brushing the shelf as he leans in conspiratorially. “And second—no, I do not put protein powder in my milkshakes. That’s a war crime. I do, however, believe that peanut butter is it's own food group and that granola, when done right, is a masterpiece of texture and goodness.”

His eyes flick down to her basket with mock judgment, before returning back to her face. “Meanwhile, you’re over here with a bargain full of chaos. What are those? Chips, cookies, three separate candy bars, and—is that, novelty marshmallows shaped like dinosaurs? Really?”

He squints and nods solemnly. “Yeah, you definitely shouldn’t be judging anyone’s taste or choices right now. I’m just saying.” Still, there’s no heat behind his words or offense. His teasing is the kind that lands soft, like a hand brushing dust off a jacket—meant to lighten, not press.

Then his voice lowers a little, not quite serious but closer to it. “Anyway, if liking oat-based desserts is a red flag, I’ll wear it proudly. We all have our flaws. Yours just happen to come with industrial-grade sugar content.”

His smile crooks again, more genuine this time, something behind his eyes warming. “But for the record? I like your kind of stubborn. It’s the kind that survives. And occasionally reorganizes paper towel displays like a goddamn professional.” His eyes track where she just did some slight realigning. "Way to go. Looks better."

[minweber]

Well, thank you, Veilguard, for supplying me, for the next few years, with something over which to agonize how great it could have been if just about everything about it was different - or, as it is better known, The Essential Dragon Age Experience.

[renaissancewoodsman]

Has anyone done this yet?

[raspberryjamnnn]

be the change you want to see in the world *the most morally appalling piece of porn you've ever seen in your entire life*

[planetlongjourney]

Remember, no matter how badly the Women Characters are being treated on Star Trek, The Women actors behind the scenes are somehow being treated worse!

[lunaryhues]

Me: "Can I please use all this energy to draw on an actual project"

My brain: "You will draw the same character over and over and you will like it."

Me: "Okay."

[chasedeys]

i want you to yap about jj/koc!!!!! tell me what your fav headcanons are about them <3

THE WAYYYYYYY I HAVE YET TO ANSWER YOUR ASK ON THAT JOE HAREM AKDHSKSJSKSKSK sort of its not even really harem bc like. is it. legit. its in my drafts. waiting for me to yap. its so good. i have shit to say abt it. i literally want to branch abt ja’marr and tee for the wr room too. and treymarr LMAOOOO and chase for the rb room even if like. the rb room is kind of sad and i wanted to focus more on his poly insanity of the 23 rookies dragging big dick mike into it BUT let me answer this one first 😭 yeah…...

ANYWAYS. headcanons. um. i don't have much. FFJFJFJ let me direct you to my prev ask um....

god i don't even know much about their lore to actually like. expand my shit about them LMAO like. if i base shit from this one post i'd say like. ko being a whole completely new thing for justin. justin's previous coaches being?? not so well???? or like. not as invested or as into him or as developing as ko is even if he clearly has broken vikings records since he got into the vikings like christttt this man is talented and ko clearly knows how to use him.

as i said in that previous askkk ko being the one to be able to like. break apart justins numerous layers of 1) pr perfect (CARMENS ASK ON THIS IS INSANE BTW. WILL GET TO THAT AT SOME POINT ARGH) then 2) lashing out tiger claws etc etc then finally 3) the justin jefferson that gets to break down and stumble and fall and titter uncertainly and very much never to be seen on camera but!! ko gets for some fucking reason and that shit terrifies the ever living shit out of justin who the fuckkk does this guy think he is waltzing into his team with his warm smile and steady hands and certain gait and kind words and clever playbook and encouragement and acceptance. skittering away uncertainly at first when ko shows him this but come on now this is justin jefferson when has he ever run away from anything ever next thing you know he's marching right back to ko and re-introducing himself and boom. charmed and being charming and i don't think he's ever going to let go of ko ever and i don't think ko's ever letting go of him ever lmao.

as ive said ko is like. incredibly soft, such a players coach, that time where he told sam to step away for a sec just to say he was proud of him?? and that clip of him to the side staring at his team hauling sam up oh my godddd. and also again based on this one post ive seen ages ago and ingrained to my fucking head about them its like. it's so fucking FUNNYYYYYY to me. how koc has legitimately mentioned justin has a great smile 😭 i have no idea if he's mentioned it some other times before probably tbfh but. that's so sweet 😭 justin DOES have a pretty smile……the prettiest thing about him dare i say……thank you coach kevin o'connell for mentioning this in actual to everyone in an official article for real lmao SORRY got distracted but. he's so sweet. so kind with his words. and so soft. and just soooo??? so easy to fall for so it took justin like. days. fucking DAYS. for him to just. starts wobbling. eyes to starts skittering away when ko tries catching his gaze. a whole week of just adjusting to new feelings before he starts to snap his spine back into himself because he's justin fucking jefferson and boom he's flirting right back (not that like. ko flirts intentionally at times 😭 they're both just. such natural unintentional flirts at times its a travesty to their team theyve learned to just. live with it. their social media team delights and despair it.).

and i think about ko is that he's like. incredibly charmed by justin. so fucking amazed by his talent. who the fuckkkk works like him. who breaks records like justin jefferson. unable to stop himself from just. gaping. eyes wide everytime he sees justin catch a ball. eyes following his figure running across the field. ears ringing knowing he has to navigate and call a play call a name call something but fuck he's just focused on how justin's smiling how he's swinging around his hips laughing with jordan and practically gleaming underneath the stadium lights. pretty. fucking gone for him. also. great smile. stilllll so stuck on him mentioning justin's smile alkfkasf soooo funny god crying at this.

also: comparing yet again ja'marr and justin. competency kink 😔 justin being soooo horny for ko's offensive schemes and all his coaching abilities and hey he has thrown with justin right so like. well.

the flirting. ive talked a bit here mostly as comparison to joemarr's preschool ass shy unable-to-meet-eyes flirting. they are soooo. fucking. Shameless. how the fuck. no really but they are upfront about it they look at each other straight in the eyes and giggle at each other and tilt their chins provocatively and just say shit. whatever the fucking words are positively DOUSED with flirty energy. they can be talking about the fucking weather, routes and plays, or even taking the most humongous most disgusting most gut-wrenching shit of their lives ever and it would still sound like they're flirting about ferris wheel dates and candle-lit dinner and fucking on a bed of roses. sorry but 😭. if you listen to any bit of mic'ed up moments between them, or interviewed moments between them, it's genuinely crazy it's like. they can't help themselves. they're natural flirts?? around other people but when they meet each other they up the fucking ante to about 10000000000 billion watt so. either you get used to it or you just. skedaddle out of sheer uncomfortableness. dare i say that their team has gotten so fucking used to it 😭 dare i say that that shit is contagious and now a whole lot of them especially the influenceable rookies are following their footsteps. vikings.....oh boy.......every time i see practice vids its crazy btw there's always a moment of ko just having to pop by and just like nudge at justin and justin just like blooms under his gaze its so cute they're so cute 😭

there's also this LMAOOOOO no but really. how many times do you think has kevin o'connell stumbled in his words and like. physically. because justin jamal jefferson just could not fucking help himselffffff oh my god. what is the fucking matter with him 😭😭 who STARES like that at their coaches.....justin motherfucking jefferson that's who. ko yapping gesturing with his cup like justin isn’t giving him ecchi fuck me eyes you’re definitely stronger than me 😔✊ but really does justin do this shit on purpose or. or...

also ehe i know you asked for hcs but like. would u like more of um. i did a little bit of fic idea of them fake dating once here and am still so enamored by it so:

koc/jj - constantly getting the vibes of ‘he fuckeddd that old mannn’ when i see gifs of those two with jj just being 🥰😘💞🎀💓🌸💖💝🩰🌷 aughguhgh outrageous levels of besotted he’s WORKING he’s GETTING HIS MAN he’s FLIRTING hes using EVERY weapon in his disposal (competency, beauty, babygirlism, etc) you have to respect that shit. stupid fic idea that won’t leave my head is of them getting into a scandal caught by paparazzi romantic ass dinner holding hands and ending the night clubbing close but they really aren’t anything at that time but ahaha you get where I’m going with this right FAKE DATING!!! except this isn’t really feasible bc lets be real a coach dating his player = fired. period. or the player traded to a different team which. WHICH. but theyre both like invaluable to the vikings so they just go ok fake dating have at it (that makes zero sense but whatever). anyway super fun idea can’t lie justin upping his cutesy lovey schtick and koc quietly dying from it. joe legit reaches out like 'ur not being coerced or anything right' while jamarrs like 'get that silver dickkkk' (hes like 39 but whatever) etc etc.

the joemarr double date 😭 can you imagineeeee joe and ja'marr squinting suspiciously at ko smiling serenely at them and justin squinting suspiciously back at the two im crying as i picture this

ko begins just. charming the ever living shit out of them. and ja'marr is somehow the one who can't fucking unbend because. he was all for it at first?? like oh!! justinnn??? coachfucker justin jefferson lmaaoooooo???? no really he was brutal about it justin has to briefly block his number because oh my god 'marr shut the fuck uppppp but then. he actually sees justin with ko and boom. every single protective bone in his body is bricking the fuck uppppp and now justin has to call off attack guard dog ja'marr chase from ripping ko to shreds 😭 joe, who has like. the slightest idea that this might happen is just. going along for the ride at this point, hooking his ankle around ja'marr's under the table to help calm him the fuck down and keep him from lunging across the table and making sure to keep stealing the prawns off ja'marr's plate so ja'marr gets distracted and pissy at him instead of like. interrogating ko on his ancestry and credit scores and history of animal abuse who knows at this point where ja'marr's mind has gone to. justin straight up tries to stand up to strangle ja'marr one time and ko just casually brings up an arm to tug him into his side and justin settles huffily into him and. joemarr gets sharp. their eyes sharpen. zero in on the minuscule space between the two. ja'marr gets quiet. drinks his wine and tucks closer to joe too like. damn okay then fuck. joe chuckles quietly and pinches at his thigh and tells him to let up for fucks sakeeee and the dinner goes smoother finally and ja'marr finallyyyyy laughs at kos jokes 😭👍 needles at him about who's the better receiver just to be annoying and test him out a little if he answers ja'marr he isn't appreciating justin the fuck if he answers justin he doesn't know shit and if he answers neither he’s way too fucking evasive and that’s not good at all the fuck but joe gracefully saves the day by just moving the entire conversation around (throwing peas subtly at justin so he'd shut the fuck up too god why are nearly all his wide receivers like this)

(after the dinner waving goodbye to joemarr driving away in an uber ko bends down to press his forehead to the back of justin's neck and just. heaves out a sigh so heavy like. oh my god. why the fuck is ja'marr chase so intimidating. and justin's laughing at him making his body shake with him saying yeah isn't he the sweetest with the worlds just. fondest fucking voice and kos hugging him from behind feeling so pleased he gets to be accepted by the two boys justin has anchored himself so thoroughly during college and refused to let go to this day auguhughga LSU TRIO MY BELOVEDDDDD 😭)

ko and joe bondingggg aaaaaaa about like. qb stuff 😭 am so shit at football stuff i cannot even expand on this shit LMAOO but like. strategies. plays. cadences. the chiefs dynasty and nfl rules maybe lmao. the state of the nfl commissioners and schedule making and shit rules and penalties and how they can make them better maybe who knows certainly not me 😇 and jjmarr egging them on to say the more foulest shit they usually keep under pr perfect wrap and justin gleefully letting go of his perfect pr image to just shit talkkkk with ja'marr god that's cute the idea he can be freeee with ja'marrrr aaaa

fighting over the check lmao ko pays btw which is. who gets paid more players or coaches. players? i feel like its players. but ko gets sneaky and somehow pays the entire thing. joe, who usually is the sneakiest and pays for shit like this is very impressed. justin behind is like. glittering in smugness. ja'marr is also quietly impressed ofc.

okay so this is more of like. the joemarr double date over the fake dating aspect 😭 i literally have 0 ideas for the fake dating damn youuuu brainnnn workkkkkkkk argrhrgrhrhhrhh

okay. bye....im out 😭

[tekkenenjoyerblue]

Old Streets Fights art time!! Urien and Gill were actually what initially got me into the games fully‼️ The Gill art was from back when there was the whole trend going around of drawing characters in that dress 💀

[redrosecut]

Youtube shorts convinced me to start Clarkson's Farm and my German mind is boggled how someone isn't aware everything is tightly regulated in farming.

Like is it just me being German and therefor a rule follower or just Jeremy being naively privileged? Or both?

[dokyeomification]

i want him so bad i feel violently physically ill about it. nauseous and throwing up about him.

[shrews-studies]

Boy shut up I have a degree and a C1 exam certificate in this language 😭

[toonbly]

so am i just like looking in the wrong places or is it actually impossible to find books about gay men that isn't "sickeningly sweet teenaged gay couple who get bullied in the hallway at school sometimes" like actually impossible. this is a genuine question am i just dogshit at finding books or is lgbtq+ fiction just That restricted. i am a grown ass gay man and im DYING

[potatochip-oc-dump]

Cringetober Day 12 - Niche Interest

I survived the art challenge for ah... 10 or 11 days! new record! I won't force myself to finish it since I'm so busy (and Burnout) so take this prompt that I accidentally did early :3c