#which fits better with what the professor asks them to do

[makeitquietly]

Would you like to earn five hundred dollars? -- Go to the graveyard! Bring me back a body! Tonight!

Ollie: You need new clothes. Let’s go! Stan: I’ve got a bad feeling about this...

[celestie0]

gojo satoru x reader | oneshot angst [18+]

title. let me be free of you

He would live in this lifetime of hell over and over again if it meant that in some other one, there exists a world where he never hurts you.

ᰔ pairing. friends to strangers au - best friend!gojo x reader (f)

ᰔ summary. gojo satoru, your love of a lifetime, tells you he’s engaged to another woman. inspired by the novel & netflix series “one day” created by david nicholls

ᰔ warnings/tags. 18+, fem!reader, angst, mentions of sex/explicit content, coming of age themes, reader & gojo are in their 30s, mentions of pregnancy, mentions of alcohol, cheating, lots of mutual pining & longing, bittersweet ending

ᰔ word count. 4.8k

a/n. hellooo! i've had this finished in my wips folder for a long time but never got around to posting it sooo just wanted to let it see the light of day haha. hope you enjoyyy <33

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“I’m engaged.”

The words leave Gojo’s lips as much less of a confession and more like a blabber, like a toddler desperate to keep conversation going in the face of a disinterested adult. Wasn’t how he expected to share the news of a lifetime to the love of his lifetime, but he hopes it breaks your heart to hear it. 

He watches your eyebrows flatten from the crease that was bothering them before, and then slowly raise into soft arches above your eyes–those damn beautiful eyes that, even when they twinkle with hurt, still make his heart skip a beat in his chest.

He recalls for a moment the night the two of you met, drunk and dizzy from drinking out of a shared bottle of Prosecco, which only had half of the liquor left in it to start when he had first found it bleeding out to dry on the grassy lawn at the front of your university. It was graduation night, the last day to celebrate finishing four years of hell, and he had nothing to his name other than a rolled up diploma shoved in the pocket of his suit pants and the charm left in the youth of his smile. He wanted to spend the night with Aiko Rei, which was not a unique desire as most men on campus did, and he had a fair shot of getting into bed with her just like all those times before. But instead he was sitting at the top of a staircase inside the campus’s English literature building, making history in the crisp year of 1986 by being the first man of the robust age of twenty-three to pass up sex with the school’s lady heartthrob for–well, conversation with a sort of ditsy girl that he just met a half hour ago.

“What do you plan to do with your life?” he heard you ask him, a hard enough question to stomach when one is sober, and an impossible question to stomach when one is already trying not to puke flat Prosecco.

“Pardon?” he asked, in hopes to dissuade you from the question. In hopes that you’d get the hint. But you don’t. And he’d soon learn throughout the years of your friendship to come that you never did.

“Your life!” you exclaim, “we’re graduates now! What do you want to do with it?” You pat harshly at his thigh, closer to his groin than to his pocket, most likely because you’re tipsy too, but he realizes you’re referring to the rolled up paper protruding at the pocket. 

Truthfully, Gojo had never thought much about what he wanted to do after graduation. Hell, he didn’t even think he’d make it this far. Not once since he got here, not once since he flunked out of first-year history, not once since his father passed away during his third-year final examinations, and most certainly not after he got caught having “unethical affairs” with his communications professor just two months ago. And yet the esteemed board of scholars decided he was fit for a diploma anyway, and now he’s answering to, effectively, a stranger what he plans to do with said piece of paper.

“I don’t know,” he says to you, “I’ll do whatever.” 

Gojo Satoru could get by with doing whatever. He was good at everything he did. But his teachers and mentors and his own father would always warn him– son, it’s better to be an expert at one than a half-assed show-off in all. Well, they wouldn’t use the expletives, but that’s what it had sounded like in his head.

His dad would’ve liked you. He was always telling him to find a girl that challenges him, asks him the right questions, and pushes him to become a better man, the kind of woman his mother was to his father. Much opposed to the airheaded girls of Gojo’s college campus he would sneak into the house and forget to shoo off before sunrise, an occurrence that happened enough times for the respect in his father’s eyes to dwindle with each woman he’d watch his son dispel from their residence. Until eventually, Gojo started paying rent as punishment.

So, twenty-three year old Gojo, what do you plan to do with your life? Or do you have no idea of anything that extends beyond where you are right now, sitting across this strange girl you’ve just met on the death of your educational youth, at the top of a stairwell lined with passed out, drunk newly grads at nearly 4 in the morning? Right now, he’s eyeing the hem of your dress, the way it’s ridden up slightly but the mesh overskirt still tickles the skin of your thigh. He’s certainly able to picture what’s beyond that fabric, and maybe imagine the color of your panties, but what’s to come for his life? No. As previously mentioned, he never thought he’d get this far.

Gojo is thirty-four now, eleven years since that night the two of you met. And he sits next to you on a garden bench under a pitch black sky with stars speckled across, but only dimly visible. 

It’s been years since he’s seen you. You two had a “falling out” at the cusp of thirty, almost a decade of friendship fizzled away, because of his selfish actions. He couldn’t let you go, but he couldn’t want you the way you wanted him either. He didn’t feel like he deserved to have you. You were too good for him, and he knew it. So he wasted a decade chasing after other women, and in return, he lost the one he knew he was supposed to spend the rest of his life with.

It’s the night of your college roommate‘s wedding, all gathered here today to celebrate their love, and he knew he’d run into you here. You were the bride’s maiden of honor, and you looked beautiful. With your hair half tied up, a pretty clip twinkling with every movement of your head, and with strands falling down over the smooth curve of your neck, bare skin of your chest tightly covered by the nude fabric of your dress. He was fully lusting after you, and he has been all night, the picture of beauty and grace, and it was wrong. Because, again, he’s–

“You’re engaged?” you finally break through his thoughts, break through the trance that he was lost in by the sea of your eyes. Forever pulling him in like you were a wicked siren for his soul, when all you’ve ever wanted from him was his love.

He shifts a little, the thick fabric of his navy blue suit stretching with the movement as he fidgets with his hands in his lap. He’s sitting close to you, his shoulder brushing against yours, the contrast of his broad masculinity so evident against the feminine curve of your bare arm, the thin strap holding up your dress threatening to fall down the hill. His thumb twitches, because he wants to pull it back up into place for you like a gentleman, but he’s not sure if that’s what his hand would actually do. Because all he really wants to do is peel the dress off of you. 

“Yes,” he says, still tantalized by the glow of your skin under pale moonlight, “engaged.”

“To be married?”

“Well, what other kind of engaged is there?”

“You’re not allowed to get married.”

He snorts. “Says who?”

“Says me!” you exclaim, sitting up straighter, "I turn my back for one moment, and you've gone an got engaged? You're awful!" The strap of your dress falls down over your shoulder, his eyes immediately darting to it. He sees you pull the strap up back into place, and a flit of his eyes to your face reveals to him the slight dusting of an embarrassed pink to your cheeks. 

There’s a silence that settles between the two of you. Distant commotion is heard, likely from the wedding venue as people engage in reception activities and dances and cheers, while the two of you remain in this garden escape, the wall of primly trimmed bushes sheltering you two from having to pretend to be people you’re not amongst a crowd.

“Aiko…” he hears you say beside him, and although the name of the woman that has rolled off your tongue is the name of the woman he’s supposed to love, it only makes him feel sick to his stomach to hear you say her name. “She seems lovely.”

“She is,” is all he can manage to say. And he also knows this seemingly lovely woman is probably drunk off her face back at the reception hall, giggling at all the men that approach her from the sight of her flushed face, and he should feel some sort of jealousy or possessiveness over that, but he can’t seem to muster any. Unlike the grit he had to his jaw an hour ago when he saw you dancing with a man he heard you introduce to your friends as just an “old friend” of yours from college. He felt more anger in that moment than he’d ever felt watching his soon-to-be-wife getting talked up to by the sleazy men twice her age. 

“She must be very rich,” you say. “She looks it.”

“Oh. Yeah. Her family’s very well off,” Gojo says.

“So will you become rich too?” you ask him, “when you marry her.”

His eyes flit to the sky briefly. “Doubt it.”

“How come?”

“The old man doesn’t like me very much. I imagine he’ll cut ties after the wedding.”

“Her father?”

“Yes.”

“And why is that?”

“Well. I guess it’s not every father’s dream to find out his prim and proper daughter’s been knocked up by the good-for-nothing boyfriend he’s been threatening her to say good riddance to for months now.”

The silence finds the two of you again, but this time haunting and gutting. That was a blabber, if anything. So nonchalantly said, with no emotion or spirit, to the one person in this world who he’s always felt like he can be himself around.

“She’s pregnant?” you say beside him, voice breaking slightly at the end, and he can’t bear to look at you for some reason. Some sort of admission of guilt, but what for? What exactly was he repenting for?

He lets out a small laugh, like the absurdity of the situation finds him all the same. “Yeah.” 

“That–” you start, stiff next to him, before he feels the tension relax but only rigidly, “that’s wonderful, Satoru. I’m–...I’m really happy for you.” You turn your torso to wrap your arms around him, and his lips brush the sweet skin on your forehead as you bury your face in the crook of his neck. He wraps one arm around you, a sort of friendly hug as he rubs the skin of your arm soothingly, and his heart aches from the emptiness when you release him. 

“Wow…” you say, looking up at him with pretty eyes, eyelashes fluttering as you blink rapidly to process the information, and he wonders if you really are happy for him. He doesn’t want you to be. He wants you to be furious, to tell him off for getting another woman pregnant after leading you on for so many years, maybe he wants you to slap him, or grab him by the collar of his shirt and shake him until all he sees is a million of you through dizzy vision like some paradise. He wants you to be mad, because it’d mean that you still care. It’d mean that you still think there’s something here to salvage between the two of you. 

But he’s engaged. And he’s having a baby. What was more final than that?

“So…are you marrying her because of–”

“The wedding is in four weeks,” he cuts you off, but he knows the statement answers your question regardless.

“Satoru…”

He leans off to the side a little to reach into the pocket of his suit pants, and he pulls out what is now a slightly bent envelope and he hands it to you. You take it from him gently, holding it weakly like it was something beyond you. Like something distant and foreign and strange. When all it was, is a wedding invitation. 

“Listen…” he starts.

He sees your eyes dazed as you stare at the lettering on the outside of the envelope.

“We’ve been friends for a long time, y/n. And I know the last time we saw each other was–” Hostile. Angry. Disappointing. Ended with you cussing him out on the street and then saying you never want to see him again. “...not ideal, but I still care a lot about you, and, uh, so, it would mean a lot to me if you came to the wedding.” For fucks sake, even on the brink of losing you forever, he still can’t find the right words to say. “Aiko, she–” He tastes bitter in his mouth, “well, I’ve told her a lot about you, and she’d really love it if you came as well.”

You’re silent as you gently peel back the opening of the letter and then pull out the small card stock invitation. The gold printed letters shine as you inspect it, fingers tracing the patterns of words that profess the Rei family’s intent to wed their daughter to Gojo Satoru. Your Gojo Satoru. Your best friend in this whole wide world. He watches your eyes carefully, but he can’t discern what he finds in them.

“Gojo Satoru…” you drone off, “to be wed. And to be a father.” Years of late night talks of the future, of kids and Christmas and love, with reality seemingly sly on the horizon only to have crept up so abruptly. It was pinched between your fingers right now. That reality.

His shoulders sulk slightly. And when you look up at him again, there’s a sheen of tears in your eyes.

“I can’t come to this,” you whisper, “and you know that, Satoru.”

His heart breaks. A physical pain that twists in his chest so tight at just the sight of seeing you sad. Sad again over the actions of his own. They say you always hurt the one you love, and he had always wondered what sort of evil person would do such a thing, only to find out he’s only ever hurt you this entire time. 

He should’ve kissed you that night the two of you met at graduation. Should’ve shut you up and all your existential questions by pinning you to a wall and pressing his lips against yours. He should’ve taken you to bed and fucked you, and then held you in his arms until you woke up in the morning. Should’ve listened to you talk his ear off about how he’s just like all the other guys, who pretend to care, but only want to have sex and then never to speak to the girl ever again. And he should’ve laid there in bed, nose nuzzled in your hair, taking all the scolding despite having no intent to ever leave you.

Instead, he wasted so much time. Sure, he had your friendship. His best friend for years, but the two of you could’ve been something more. Could’ve spent the years together, instead of writing stained letters or leaving messages on answering machines while the two of you were miles away. He could’ve been waking up with you every morning with the scent of your shampoo on his sheets, instead of clinging to pillows in foreign motel rooms. He could’ve been engaged to you, and he could be whispering sweet nothings in your ear of how much he wishes the baby will have your eyes. 

But his thoughts are lost in fantasy. He is what he’s done, nothing more and nothing less. His eyes fall to your lap, the invitation still held loosely in your hand, and then a droplet of water falls onto it.

“I–” you stutter, wiping at the tears spilling down your cheeks with a hesitant swipe of your hand, “I need to go.”

You stand up off the bench and he quickly stands up with you, grabbing your wrist to keep you here with him, and you halt but only with you facing away from him. He yanks at your wrist harshly, pulling you into him so his chest is flush to your back, his arms wrapping strongly around you and his nose nuzzling into your hair, breathing you in greedily like it’s the last time he’ll ever get the chance.

“Satoru–” you gasp, your hands immediately grabbing at his forearms that are tightly crossed across your collarbone. “What are you doing–” 

“Say it,” he whispers, gruff and impatient, “tell me to do it, and I will.”

“T-Tell you to do what?” you stutter, struggling a little in his hold but he only holds you tighter.

“Tell me to leave her, and I will,” he says, his lips brushing at your ear now, the scent of your perfume maddening to his senses, and one of his hands slowly trails down and the knuckle of his thumb presses into the softness of your breast.

You squirm, a small and soft moan leaving your lips.

“T–” you breathe in harshly, “this is wrong.” 

“I don’t care,” he growls, arms sliding lower to hold you under your breasts, so tightly that your heels lift off the ground. “Just say the word, and I’ll leave everything behind for you. I promise,” he breathes in deep, the desperation making his head hazy, “that I’ll do things right this time. Just you and me–” 

“You’re going to be a father,” you remind him, and he shuts his eyes closed tightly, the responsibility of the word bearing on his shoulders but his desire for you overshadows every shred of sense or dignity or integrity he has left in him, because he felt like he was losing his mind after wanting you for years just to never have you. 

He turns you around in his hold so that you face him, and he crashes his lips to yours, muffling the surprised mmf! that dies in your throat in surprise as his hands hold your waist, relishing in the feeling of satin fabric pulled taut over your curves.

Forbidden, yet a taste that he’ll risk because there was no curse that was worse than the fate of having to pine after you for years.

Ah.

But.

But it was all fantasy, this moment in his head, where he takes you on the freshly cut grass of this garden. 

Something that only briefly flashes through his mind as his warm hand wraps around your wrist, from where he was still seated on the stone bench, and not on his feet holding you like he dreamed for. Like he longed for.

He feels the weight of his arm so heavily, as if it weren’t his own, and he slowly lets go of your wrist.

When he looks up at you, there’s longing in your eyes. A hurt that he didn’t even know he was capable of causing, just for him to realize that you’ve always looked at him that way, and he’s never been keen enough to know it until now. He grew up too late. He took too long.

His phone starts buzzing in his pocket, and he reaches in for it, then flips it open and sees his soon-to-be-wife’s name on it. He feels nothing at the sight.

“Hello?” he speaks into the device when he holds it to his ear, and he sees you take a couple steps away, rubbing anxiously at your elbow as you pretend to busy yourself with the study of the lamp. “Yes, I’ll be there soon. I, uh, I’m just with a friend. A couple of friends, actually. We’re having drinks by the pond. Mhm. Yes. I will. Okay, see you soon. I—…I love you too. Bye.” And then he snaps the phone shut. 

“Heading back?” he hears you ask.

He stands. “I’ve got to.”

“Okay.” 

You two walk down the shrubbery of the garden that was arranged like a maze, him a few paces behind you, and he watches the delicate line of your posture as your hand brushes against the green walls of foliage that encase the two of you, the feeling of wanting to touch you and hold you almost suffocating. 

“Hey,” he calls out to you, and he shoves his hands in his suit pockets. You turn around immediately to face him, like his voice was permission to do so.

“Yes?” you ask.

He blinks up at the starry sky, and then looks at you again. The soft cast of distant warm lighting falls over your face, making you appear like a renaissance painting, similar to those that you would point out to him at museums when you two would see each other on holiday back in your early twenties. He could never understand the charm of those paintings, no matter how many times you tried to explain it to him, but seeing you in this light right now, he finally understands the beauty that you saw. 

“I’m, uh,” he rubs at the back of his neck, and then scoffs out a small laugh, “I’m a little drunk right now, but–” He stops himself. What was he trying to say? And was it of conscious mind? “I just need to tell you that…I really regret…not speaking to you. I mean, for letting the silence drag on for years. You’re my–...my best friend. We’re a pair, you know? The two of us. For years, people would ask me where you were. And why they haven’t seen us together at all recently. And it was hard to admit that we hadn’t spoken in years.”

You take the smallest of steps towards him, and look up at him with empty eyes. 

“What I’m trying to say is, is that, well,” he finds himself tripping over his words, “I miss you. And I miss our friendship. And–...I miss having you around.” He glances down at his shoes, polished and reflecting off the moonlight directly above him. He rocks back and forth on his heels ever so slightly. “I know you said that I piss you off to lengths unimaginable to my tiny pea-sized brain, but I can’t help myself, y/n,” he admits, “I think you and I, we’re just meant to always be. In some how, or some way…”

You purse your lips together, gaze shifting lower to eye at the silk of his tie. 

“Can we be friends again?” he asks, the words feeling juvenile on his tongue. Like whispered apologies between children on a playground after shoving one another onto wooden chips, except the wounds he’s left on you run much deeper than a superficial scrape. 

You blink slowly, tilting your head up at him. “Friends?”

“Friends.”

You wipe your palm off on the satin of your dress. “I missed you too, you know.”

His eyes widened slightly.

Your hand finds its way up your arm, until you weakly cup your elbow with your palm and look off to the side, avoiding eye contact with him. “There were so many years where I thought that there was something between us. And maybe I was foolish for thinking that way, that you would ever see me that way–”

“y/n,” he tries to interrupt you. 

“But…the pain of not having you the way I wanted to was much less worse than the pain of not having you at all,” you say, your gaze finally shifting towards him. “But, the thing is, I needed to feel that pain to get over you. I had to.”

His heart stills at those words.

You glance down at the ground now. “I missed being able to tell you things. To laugh, and cry, and argue. I miss humbling your stupid ego. I miss being able to call you at any time, knowing you’d pick up when I needed you.”

His heart aches so much he wants to reach into his chest and hold it.

“The thing is,” you continue, “you would’ve been the first person I would’ve run to to tell them that I lost my best friend.” There were tears shining in your eyes. “But what could I do when you were the one that I had lost? Who could I have turned to then?”

He lets out a shaky breath, and in a swift motion, his arm wraps around your waist and he pulls you to him in an embrace.

You’re stiff in his hold, mechanical and rigid, so contrary to the soft tears you leave behind on the fabric of his sleeve, but slowly and surely, you warm and thaw. Your hands slide up past his shoulders, linking behind his neck. And his head drops to the curve of your neck, swaying you with him slowly as if it were a first dance.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, “for hurting you.”

You breathe out slowly. “Just let me go, Satoru. Let me be free. Let me be free of you.”

He feels the air knock out of his lungs, and the two of you slowly pull your heads away from the embrace to look at one another, although your hands still find a place on his shoulders, and he still holds you close to him by a delicate hold of your waist. 

He wonders if in another life, you two were happy. He wonders if he could ever take back all the decisions he made, and start all over again. On that day the two of you met on that staircase in the west wing of the literature building, he would make a different choice. If he could, he would live in this lifetime of hell over and over again if it meant that in some other one, there exists a world where he never hurts you. 

“It’s time for me to go,” you whisper, eyes darting across the features of his face, studying them but with a familiarity that only you know, because you held his entire life in your palm. Your gaze meets his again, faces just inches apart, and the sweet curl of your eyelashes makes him weak in the knees. “It’s time.”

He nods slowly, his own eyes studying your face as well, except it looks foreign to him now. 

It’s all been said and done. There was nothing he could do to right the wrongs, or undo all the pain. He was to be a father now, and his duties were now towards his wife and unborn child. And no longer to the woman he holds in his arms, one he’s sure he will never stop loving for as long as he lives. 

It’s a sweet moment, the two of you gazing at one another. You look so pretty from this angle, looking up at him with the smallest tilt to your head and round searching eyes. His head subconsciously dips down towards yours in the second that he glances at your lips, but he stops himself. And when you make no move to create distance, he finds himself closing it again, until his lips brush against yours ever so softly. And then he captures them in a kiss, firm and unmistaken, finding solace in the way your lips move against his too, unsure yet passionately at the same time. Your fingers ever so slightly dig into his shoulders while his thumbs soothe at the skin of your waist, the two of you savoring the last moments of a kiss that’ll be the sweetest one you’ll ever know.

You pull away first, a small puff of air leaving your lips as you glance downwards. He rests his forehead against yours, never once looking away from your face. And you both breathe slowly, the soul of the chaste kiss entirely vanishing into the air along with all the hope that the two of you had left to make anything of the way you feel about one another. It was a kiss that almost disqualified any level of sin or guilt or wrong, because it was like one you two owed each other, after years of familiarity and longing. It was the goodbye that the two of you deserved.

His hands slowly let go of your waist, and he takes a step back away from you, softly clearing his throat. The distance feels like a galaxy away, and he briefly runs his thumb along his bottom lip, because the ghostly feeling of your lips on his still remains. 

“Shall we head back?” you ask him, prim and proper in posture and eyes widened in a formal gaze.

His lips are parted, and he finds that he’s panting slightly. And then he slowly nods his head. “Yes.”

.

.

.

[the end] 

a/n. i am sooooo freaking obsessed w "one day" by david nicholls and really wanted to write something inspired by it!! the book literally ripped my heart out and stomped on it like there were so many scenes where i just longingly stared out the window because of how shattering it was but dear god i really enjoyed it, and the show was also so dfkjhsfkhs i had sm feels watching it. so yea this was fun to write!! i hope you enjoyedd n thanks so much for reading :)

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[phoward89]

Based on this ask

WARNING ⚠️ Coriolanus Snow is a warning in and of itself. Coryo x Big Booty!Reader, Smut, p in v, creampie, cussing, breeding kink, Dom!Coriolanus

Coriolanus Snow has classic tastes when it comes to his life. He has a sophisticated image, so of course he wears gold rings on his hands; never silver. Full Windsor knots in his satin ties, custom 3-piece suits made with only the finest material, and fine dress shirts that have to be starched. He wears cufflinks and all of his shoes are floor shines with 3 or 4 inch heels (because Coriolanus' 6ft frame needs to be even more intimidating so he can tower over everyone that's beneath him). His taste in food is classic, but upscale as well.

And when it comes to women, well, his taste is classic when it comes to that as well. T&A does it for him.

Coriolanus Snow’s a tits and ass man. The bigger the better too. And when he started dating you, well his classic tastes were definitely filled.

You're, in his opinion, the whole package. To Coriolanus, you're so beautiful both inside and out. You have a personality that just pulls him in. You keep him engaged and on his toes with conversations. But your physical appearance is what attracted him to you in the first place. Your curves make his mouth water. Nice tits and a nice big ass, just what he likes.

And your big booty is something that he loves. Seriously, Coriolanus can't get enough of it. And watching you sitting at your vanity in nothing but a white bra and panty set, hair up in rollers while doing your makeup for the dinner he's taking you tonight as his plus one makes him grin. Your white lace edged panties cling to your big booty just right and the way your plump ass sits on your vanity bench has Coriolanus mentally swearing to have you fuck him in his favorite position tonight when you get home from the dinner the University’s hosting for the Political Science majors of the Senior Class of 14 ADD (After Dark Days).

“Are you wearing the pearl jewelry set I got you for your birthday, Peaches?” Coriolanus asks you, buttoning up his crisp white dress shirt as he stands by his dresser- which has jewelry box open with his various cuff links (including pearl ones) and his chunky gold rings in it.

“Yes, Coryo.” You nod. Lightly dabbing your blending sponge on your face, you tell your boyfriend, “I’m wearing them; thought they'd look nice with my dress.”

Your dress is a strappy white gown that's form fitting. A dress that's hanging up on the door of your side of the walkin closet.

“I thought they'd pair nicely with your dress as well, my darling.” Coriolanus remarks while grabbing his pearl cuff links from his jewelry box and putting them on. “How much longer til you're ready, Y/N?” Your boyfriend asks, walking into thw walkin closet to grab and put on his dark maroon and white stripe vest and its matching dark maroon dinner jacket.

“Not long; maybe 15-20 minutes.” You assure him as he finishes getting dressed.

Coriolanus loves how sweet your booty looks with your clothes hugging it just right. He's always smacking it or grabbing it- a result of loving that big booty of yours. Whether it's in the privacy of his penthouse, that he moved you into, or out in public. He doesn't care, he just wants to feel your perfectly peachy ass in his hands.

But when he grabs your ass in public it's sometimes embarrassing.

Like tonight, his large hand keeps sliding south off of the small of your back to rest right on your plump ass. An ass that he loves, that he thinks looks perfect in the white dress you're wearing tonight for the formal dinner he's attending with you as his plus one. But it's not appropriate in the pre-dinner party cocktail setting, so you have to keep dragging his hand up and off your ass.

Despite standing around and talking to various people (high ranking people might you add since everyone at this dinner whether they're a professor, student, or plus one is a somebody in Capitolite high society- your own boyfriend included) Coriolanus has no shame and keeps grabbing your ass. It's very annoying. You even give him a slight side-eyed look, silently telling him to stop it. But your boyfriend has not shame; Coriolanus just gives you a loving smirk only to slide his hand back down to grab your ass again.

“You're gonna be my good lil cowgirl tonight, Peaches.” Coriolanus whispers into your ear, his baritone dark and lustful, while giving your butt a light squeeze as his friend Festus Creed along with his longtime girlfriend Persephone Price head their way over to you and your future political star boyfriend.

And you knew what he meant by his remark. He wanted you to fuck him in reverse cowgirl tonight so he can oogle and smack your ass. Oh, how his whispered promise of the night’s future events had your panties dampening.

Damn him.

Now you're stuck with wet panties all throughout tonight's long drawn out dinner. That bastard. Coryo always knows how to get to you.

And he knows the longer you're stuck in wet panties for the more desperate you'll be to fuck yourself on his cock once you get out of those panties.

What Coriolanus loves more then anything in the world is to stare at your plump, perfect ass while you ride him reverse cowgirl when you're fucking. Yep, he loves to watch your ass jiggle as you take him deep while bouncing quickly on his cock. It's one of his favorite positions for you to fuck in.

“Fuck. Your ass is so fine, Peaches.” Coryo groans as you quickly ride him, pushing your body quickly up and down while facing the foot of the bed. You're gripping his thighs in your hands, your nails digging into the skin of his sinewy muscles, as your knees frame his hip bones. “Yea, that's it baby girl, make that big ass jiggle for your man.” The platinum blonde orders, his deep baritone thick and husky, as his icy eyes are glued to your large, sweet ass cheeks as they bounce up and down as your tight cunt quickly takes his large cock in and out, in and out at a pleasurable pace.

Looking over your shoulder at your disheveled boyfriend, you give him a sultry smile. “You never get tired of watching my big booty as I ride you, huh?”

“Oh, Peaches, I told you when we first got together that I'm a tits and ass man; that the bigger the better.” Your boyfriend smirks. Reaching a hand forward, he grabs your ass and groans, “Your ass is perfect and it's all mine.” Giving your ass a hard smack, that echoed throughout the room and mingled with the led wet sound of your pussy fucking Coryo's cock, the platinum blonde orders, “Tell me your ass belongs to me, Y/N. Say it, Peaches, or you're not cumming tonight.”

And you know he means it. If you don't tell your possessive and obsessive boyfriend what he wants to hear that he'll take over, fuck you til he cums, and will leave you high and dry. He's done it before early on on your relationship when you played stubborn and didn't summit to him. But you learned your lesson; now you summit even if you don't want to.

It's all just dirty bedroom talk, right?

Coryo doesn't actually think that your ass belongs to him, does he?

No.

No, he can't.

He can't be that possessive and obsessive towards you, can he?

No, it's just bedroom talk. Dirty talk that gets him off.

“My ass belongs to you and only you, Coryo.” You tell your boyfriend in a high pitch mewl as the tip of his cock bruises your cervix; sending shockwaves of pleasure up and down your spine.

“Goddamnit, I love your ass.” Coriolanus confesses, his tone tight and husky. Smacking your ass again, he orders, “Go on, fuck yourself fast and hard on my cock til we cum.”

Coryo didn't have to tell you twice.

You use the grip on his thighs as leverage, helping your upper body control your faster than lighting movements. Quickly, you impale yourself on your boyfriend's large cock- letting out whines and whimpers every time your special spongy spot deep inside of you gets hit just right by the large cock that's stretching your cunt open wide. Sweat rolls down your brow as mewls of pleasure escape your lips. With every move you make your pussy clenches; pushing you closer to your orgasm.

Coriolanus is loudly groaning out, “Fuck, baby.”, while watching your ass bounce up and down just right. His baby blues are blown black by lust and they're transfixed on your ass jiggling quickly. “Fuck, Peaches, I'm gonna cum soon.” Your boyfriend forewarns you of his upcoming orgasm. Grabbing your ass cheeks in each of his large hands, he uses his strength to slam you up and down his twitching cock at a punishing force.

“Coryo…I'm gonna cum.” You moan, nearly toppling over from the brute force of your boyfriend moving you to fuck his cock as if you're nothing more then his personal fuckdoll. The only reason you're not face first between your boyfriends spread eagle legs is because of the tight hold you have around his thighs- nails digging in so deeply that crimson’s trickling down the pale skin.

“Go on and cum, Peaches.” Coryo orders before groaning, “Cum so I can fill ya up with my seed; knock ya up.”

His husky words sends a jolt right to your aching cunt and suddenly you're cumming with a loud moan that's only one word: Coryo.

Coriolanus doesn't let you ride out your high gracefully. No. I stead, he slams you down even harder on his cock. His cum heavy balls begin to tighten up as he tells you, “You're gonna look so beautiful knocked up with my heir. Can't wait to see your tits and ass grow along with your belly swelling with our child.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Your boyfriend curses before shooting a thick rope of his hot seed into your womb. Your name falls from his lips as he cums.

He pushes you forward, causes your butt to jiggle in his hands. Coryo smiles, his eyes shining with lazy lust, as he watches his cum slowly leak from your clenching, tight, abused hole like perfect pearls. Pulling you up to lay next to him, Coriolanus adjusts the two of you to cuddle so that his head rests on your tits while his hand holds your ass.

The two things on you that he absolutely loves; that attracted him to ask you out- causing him to fall obsessively, possessively, and madly in love with you.

Your tits and ass.

But if you ask him what he prefers on you, Coryo will honestly answer that he loves your large ass. Without a doubt, it's your big booty that really does it for him.

After all, he did give you the nickname Peaches because of his undying love for that big booty of yours. An ass that he thinks is the sweetest peach in all of Panem.

Tags: @kuroosbby001 @purriteen @poppyflower-22 @meetmeatyourworst @whipwhoops @bxtchopolis @readingthingsonhere @savagenctzen @ryswritingrecord @erikasurfer @tulips2715 @universal-s1ut @thesmutconnoisseur @squidscottjeans @sudek4l @wearemadeofstardust0 @mashiromochi @gracieroxzy @belcalis9503 @shari-berri @aoi-targaryen @whiteoakoak @spear-bearing-bi-witch @gisellesprettylies @loverandqueenofdragons @qoopeeya @mfnqueen1 @permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88 @v-love @swiftieblyth @joyfulyouthlover @lady-harvey @chxrrybomb22 @marvel-hiddles-stark @xjinnix @devils-blackrose @zombicupcake3 @jacesvelaryons @tempt-ress

[multi-kpop-fanfics]

Vodka Slime

pairing: alien!Seungcheol x fem!reader

genre: smut, mild comedy. minors dni.

warnings: monsterfucking, use of tentacles, dom!seungcheol, bratty reader, pussy slapping, bondage, implied size kink (reader is smaller than seungcheol), tummy bulge, squirting, masturbating, unprotected sex but reader is on the pill (pls stay safe), dirty talk, recording during sex (consensual but DON'T DO IT IRL), reader runs a nsfw twitter acc, alcohol consumption

word count: 2.7k

summary: picking up a hot guy from a bar to spend the night with was in your bucket list. him being an alien wasn't. not that you really complain.

Author's note: Spooky season is here and what better way to participate than a spooky smutty theme :) this was a request from Y anon!

p.s.: main inspiration for this fic was drawn by @meltwonu's Starlighter fic, it is a MUST read (like the rest of monster mash lmaooo)

taglist: @duhnova @smileysuh @gyuwoncheol (kindly suffer <3)

©multi-kpop-fanfics, 2023. No reposting allowed. No translations allowed without permission.

You kinda wish you had stayed at home.

You thought it would be a good idea to dress up and go to a bar on your own to enjoy a cocktail, hoping for a stroke of luck - Alas, things don’t always go your way.

If you had stayed home, you would be in comfy clothes or maybe no clothes at all, thinking of which toy you want to fuck yourself with. 

You let out a huff and you take your cocktail in your hand, opting for a ‘random walk’ around the bar (you just want to spot a single guy who wouldn’t mind to get laid tonight), but as soon as you turn around, you collide with a very firm body and your cocktail ends up splashing all over your top.

“Fuck!” You gasp when the ice cold beverage hits your skin, desperately looking for napkins to clean up the newly made mess.

“Shit, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to do that!” He apologizes profusely as he asks for napkins from the bartender. “Here, these should help somehow.” He passes you the napkins and you accept them with a grumble, trying your best to clean up yourself.

“Is there anything I can do to make it up to you, miss?”

“You can only-” you almost snap at him but your words die down in your throat when you raise your head and take a good look at the unknown man.

And all you see is the stroke of luck you were wishing for all night long.

Semi-pulled back white hair, slightly messed up from the wind outside, a tight fitted shirt accentuating his toned pecs and a jawline sharp enough to cut through your clothes.

“Well…” You put down the used napkins, “I wouldn’t mind a refill of that cocktail I was drinking.”

The unknown man flashes a rather adorable gummy smile and effortlessly takes a couple of bills out of his wallet.

“That, I can definitely do.”

"So, a college student. That's pretty cool."

You almost snort in your drink. "Oh yeah, it's so cool to stress over random classes because the professor happens to be a dickhead." 

"Hey, don't downplay your achievements. It's not like everyone has the brains to attend college, you know." The man plays with the rim of his glass.

"It's actually funny how hard you're trying to get my attention, while you don't even know my name." You down your cocktail.

"And here I was wondering whether you'd bring it up or not." He chuckles. 

"Well? Are you satisfied now, mister I don't know-what-your-name-is?"

"Seungcheol. Choi Seungcheol."

"What?"

"That's my name, doll."

"Oh." You gulp down. "That's a very nice name you have there."

“So I’ve been told before.”

“By other girls, I suppose?”

“I’m not obligated to share this information, doll.”

“Suit yourself then.” You shrug and open your purse, taking out a small folded mirror to check your makeup.

“I’m impressed.” Seungcheol licks the corner of his mouth, “It’s the first time someone isn’t giving their attention to me.”

“You either have a bloated ego or you’re a desperate attention whore. Or both, I guess.” You sigh.

“And you have a pretty foul mouth for such a pretty face.”

“Cliché.”

“Did it work?”

“I’m not obligated to share this information, mister Choi.” You mimic his attitude.

“Are you even willing to share something with me, other than a drink?” He huffs.

“To be completely honest, I was hoping to come here and snatch a cutie back home to have fun with, but things are looking kinda grim.”

Seungcheol flashes a wide smirk. “What a wonderful coincidence, for our goals to be aligned tonight.”

“You’re here to hit it off with someone too?”

“Yeah. And to be fair, you’re looking way too hot and way too lonely to not get laid tonight.”

“Are you suggesting I should fuck you, Seungcheol?”

“I was planning on using more subtle words but I suppose this is also a way to approach things.”

You take a few seconds to yourself, pondering about Seungcheol’s proposal.

Cons - he’s a complete stranger and could be a murderer.

Pros - he’s fucking hot and you could get new content for your account.

“I have one question.”

“Fire away, doll.”

“You’re not some kind of crazy ass murderer, right?”

Seungcheol snorts. “Murderer? Nope."

He brings himself closer to you. "But the crazy ass depends on the context."

"I think we both know the context." You lick your lips.

"Then I hope you're into crazy stuff, doll."

Boy, he's in for a treat.

"That's a nice setup you have here."

"Thanks." You smile and take off your shoes.

"Are you a streamer?" 

"Hmm, not really."

"There's no shame in saying you're a camgirl." Seungcheol chuckles.

"I never said that and I definitely didn't try to hide it." You retort.

"Judging from the box of dildos being out in the open on your desk, I would agree to the latter."

"Do they make you feel uncomfortable, Seungcheol?"

"Not at all." He walks towards the desk and picks up a neon colored, tentacle shaped dildo. "Is this what you play with?"

You sit down on the bed and cross your legs sensually. "Got a problem with that?"

"Not really." Seungcheol drops the toy in the box. "It's a shame to play with fake stuff when you can have access to the real stuff."

You snort. "What, you're into that fake tentacles porn?" 

He flashes a smirk and removes his jacket and t-shirt, you let out a whistle at the sight of his naked torso. 

The excitement you had stored in your body evaporates within milliseconds when you see extra large sized tentacles coming out of Seungcheol's back, looming over him.

"Okay whoa, that is NOT what I was expecting!" 

"I know it's shocking, but I have zero intention to hurt you-"

You crawl away from him. "Your little friends don't seem to share the sentiment!" 

"I am the one who controls them, I can pull them back if you want me to."

"I- I just-"

"Look, I can just put my clothes back on and disappear from your apartment, like I never even existed in the first place."

"W-Wait! I, um-"

"Take your time, Y/N."

"Can you try not to put these things near my mouth please?"

"Since you asked so nicely, I have no choice but to comply."

Seungcheol crawls on the bed and cages you between his body and the mattress, peppering kisses across your jawline to make you feel more comfortable.

"Do you mind if I kiss you? I promise my lips are nothing like my tentacles."

"Oh my God, just shut up and kiss me!" You grab his face with your hands and smash your lips on his, slipping your tongue in his mouth, but it doesn't last for long, as he pulls away and pins your hands above your head.

"What got into you all of a sudden, doll?"

"Maybe I thought things over again and decided that fucking a hot guy with tentacles isn't a terrible idea." 

"I thought you weren't into that thing?"

"Half of my porn content is with tentacle dildos, please get real."

Seungcheol scoffs. "You little brat."

He lifts himself off you and with a tilt of his head, his tentacles wrap around your torso and legs, restricting you midair.

"You fucker! This is foul play!" You yelp.

He leans back on the headrest of the bed, looking at you with hungry eyes. "Everything is fair in war, love and sex, doll. I’m just spicing up things a little." 

Two more of his tentacles come up to your body, one ripping your top in half and the other flipping your skirt to reveal your bare pussy.

“Fuck you, I liked that top!”

“It was already ruined, sweetheart, don’t think too much of it. No underwear though? That's hot."

"It's called easy access, himbo."

Seungcheol clicks his tongue in annoyance and whips one of his tentacles over your pussy, making you whine.

"You're being a lil' smartass and it could get you in trouble, Y/N."

"Do your worst, Kraken."

The tentacle glides between your lips with the tip repeatedly nudging your clit when it suddenly whips your pussy again and you close your legs involuntarily.

"Ah ah ah, we're not having any of that." 

The tentacles tighten around your legs and keep them wide open, while the third one keeps rubbing your pussy slowly enough for the suckers to tease your sensitive parts.

"Ah! Fuck!" You moan when the slimy object slaps your cunt over and over again, your juices starting to drip on your asscheeks and all over the sheets.

"Drenched already? I haven't even fucked you yet, doll." Seungcheol chuckles as he strokes his cock, his pants discarded a long time ago.

"It's all f-fun and games when you're the o-one sitting on the bed!" You whine in defeat.

Your lips fall open when after a particular harsh slap, the tentacle effortlessly pushes into your entrance, turning around and rubbing your walls in an excruciatingly slow manner.

"Oh…my God…Fuck, that feels so fucking good."

Seungcheol raises his eyebrow. "You feel a tad bit loose, sweetheart." 

"And w-what about it?"

You nearly scream when another, thicker tentacle enters your pussy and thrusts harder than the other one. You feel your walls being stretched out, the foreign bodies in your hole proving to be bigger than the toys you use.

“Now it feels just right.” Seungcheol moans, as if it was his dick fucking you stupid. “Can’t wait to have you all wrapped around my cock, doll.”

“F-Fu- Cheol, I’m gonna cum!” You gasp when the tentacles pick up the pace and ram your cunt without mercy.

“Come on, doll, show me what this pussy is capable of.” Seungcheol grunts as he fists his cock harder to bring himself closer to his climax.

A sharp shriek erupts from your throat - you squirt all over your thighs and the slimy appendices, juices dripping down on the sheets and Seungcheol’s legs. His cock explodes all over his torso, streaks of thick white cum splashing on his skin.

The tentacles around your body relax just enough to let you plop down on the mattress, leaving your skin sticky and covered with a thin, slimy substance. He slowly retracts them altogether and they disappear from your field of view, as if they never existed in the first place.

“I can’t feel my legs.”

Seungcheol crawls on the mattress until he’s hovering above you. “That’s cute. But I’m afraid I’m not done with you yet, doll.”

Your eyes go wide when you notice the sheer size of his cock resting on top of your stomach and you’re pretty sure it’s way bigger than anything else you’ve taken before.

“There’s no fucking way that thing will fit in me!”

“That’s what you said about my tentacles, but you took them like a pro.”

“That’s different!” You protest.

“Different how?”

You purse your lips.

“Different how, Y/N?” Seungcheol slaps his cock between your legs and you whimper.

“It’s….so fucking big, Cheol….”

“Are you scared?”

“A little bit, yeah.”

“We can always take it slow, pretty girl. Are you on the pill?”

You nod your head slowly and hook your fingers around the elastic band of the skirt to take it off, but he stops you.

“The skirt stays on.”

“It could get in the way, though.”

“Pull it just enough to let your pussy show.”

“Wait, I’ve got an idea.” You say and point towards the video camera on the desk. “Can you grab it for me?”

“What do you have in mind, doll?”

“Since it might take some effort to make it fit…” You turn on the camera and hand it over to him, “Might as well show my followers how it’s done, right?”

Seungcheol flashes a dirty smirk before he points the camera to your pussy, his tip nudging your entrance. You wince a little when the bulbous head pushes into your hole, a strangled moan escaping from your mouth when you try to fit in more of his shaft.

“Easy now, I’m not going anywhere, doll.”

He swipes his free hand over his abs to pick up the cum that hasn’t dried yet and smears it all over his length, using it as lube.

“S-Stop teasing me…”

“‘M sorry doll, but I don't wanna rip your pretty pussy apart.”

“Fuck, I can take it, promise!” You arch your back and buck your hips in the air.

Seungcheol flattens his free hand over your stomach and pins you down. “You will take only what I wanna give you, sweetheart. Nothing more, nothing less.”

Your walls clench around his tip and he has the audacity to bring the camera closer to the spot you’re connected to each other, only to push his fat cock all the way to the base.

“Fuuuuuck, it’s huge…” Your eyes roll back and your pussy spasms like crazy, trying your best to accommodate his size.

“Good girl, I knew you’d take it all in.” Seungcheol rasps as he rubs his palm over the newly formed bulge in your tummy, “Such a tiny pussy yet you managed to fit all of it. I think you deserve a treat for this.”

His hand moves to your left hip and he starts thrusting inside you, setting a slow pace at first.

You moan loudly with each thrust he delivers and you slide one of your hands directly over the spot that bulges from his cock.

“Not so snarky now, are you?”

“M-More…”

“More what, doll? Use your big girl words.”

“M-More power, harder, please!” You beg between sobs.

“I was planning on dragging it out a bit more, but fuck, you’re gripping me like a vice and I can’t wait to blow my load in your pussy, doll.”

He pulls the camera a bit further away to get a full view of your and his lower half, ensuring none of your faces are visible in the video. He answers your pleas by fucking you harder and faster than his tentacles did and he can swear his sanity is starting to slip away.

“S-Shit, you’re- Fuck! It’s so good!” You scream and grip the sheets around you, your tits bouncing up and down.

“Mmmh, I’m about to cum, baby- Gonna take it all deep, will you?” Seungcheol moans above you, trying to keep the camera steady.

“Yes, yes yes, fuck me full with your load, daddy!” You cry out and your thighs shake as you cum around his cock, your wet walls rapidly clenching around his huge shaft.

“Fuuuck….” He delivers a few shallow thrusts before he buries himself to the hilt, blowing his thick load inside your pussy until a white ring of cum forms around his base. He doesn’t hesitate to take out his cock with an obscene pop and spurt the remnants of his orgasm over your pussy and your skirt.

“That…was fucking amazing.” Seungcheol taps his cock on your clit, chuckling when you bite your lips to suppress your moans.

“Close…the camera…” You mutter and he presses the button to stop the recording.

He puts the camera down and lays right next to you, ghosting his fingers over your abused cunt. 

“So? Do you think it was a waste of time to bring me back home?”

You grip his wrist and bring his hand in front of your face, licking his digits clean.

“Only an idiot would consider you a waste of time, Cheol.”

“Does that mean you’re down to exchange numbers?”

“Are you not-so-subtly asking for another time?” You rake your pointer finger across his chest.

“Perhaps I am,” he confirms, “Not to mention that one time isn’t anywhere near enough to show you what I can truly do with my tentacles.”

“One question - Do your tentacles spit stuff like in hentai?”

Seungcheol snorts and erupts into a laughing fit, to the point of tears.

You slap his arm. “What’s so funny?! I’m serious!”

“I know! It was still funny,” he wipes his tears away, “But I can’t answer your question yet.”

“And why is that?”

He smirks again.

“That would just spoil the fun for next time, doll.”

[feyhunter78]

Jealously, Jealously

Couldn’t find a fanart I felt fit so have a gif!

Nerd!Miguel Masterlist

You’re not jealous, you can’t be jealous, because Miguel isn’t yours. You’re friends, study buddies, lab partners, platonic, platonic, platonic, so why do you feel so shitty watching him and this random girl—Ava she said her name was—flirting?

Maybe it’s because she’s flipping her long silky black hair over her shoulder, batting her thick naturally dark lashes up at him, laughing at his jokes with a laugh that sounds like music, and Miguel’s eating it up.

You’ve never seen Miguel so confident, and it hurts. You’ve been friends with him for ages now, and he’s never been so forward, so clearly sure of himself when he’s with you. He’s talking, leaning down to hear her better, letting her touch his arm, his chest, even his fucking neck.

You stew in silence, arms crossed, watching them from your place behind the Sig Epp letters.

You were supposed to be getting lunch, walking, and talking with Miguel, only stopping to say hello to Brett, but then this Ava girl showed up and all of a sudden, she and Miguel have to speak privately.

“What’s got you all heated?” Brett asks, bumping his shoulder into yours, joining you against the low wall, behind the giant painted letters.

They’re what four-five feet tall, painted in the Sig Epp colors, made of plywood and some other material you don’t really recognize, and don’t care to. They’re good to hide behind, and that’s what you’re doing.

“I’m not heated.” You tell him, rolling your eyes when Ava playfully squeezes Miguel’s bicep, her laugh ringing out through the courtyard.

“Tsst, ouch.” Brett says, jerking away from you dramatically, acting as if touching your shoulder burned him.

“You’re not funny.” You deadpan, averting your eyes from Miguel and onto Brett.

“I’m a little funny.” He says, “remember when I got Dr. Blevins to do that TikTok trend with me?”

“The one where you tried to guess which of the other professors in the department he hated?” You snort, turning to face him, leaning against the sun-bleached bricks.

It was pretty funny, Dr. Belvins wasn’t the nicest man on the planet, but who would’ve known he had such a hatred for Dr. Vervid? Though you shouldn’t be too surprised, there weren’t many people who liked the Organic Chemistry professor.

“See I’m funny.” Brett says, wriggling his eyebrows victoriously.

“You did one funny thing.”

He presses a hand to his heart. “You wound me y/n, truly, down to the deepest chasm of my very soul.”

“Alright, Shakespeare,” you laugh, “time to phone it in.”

Brett takes an exaggerated bow.

You roll your eyes but giggle. Brett is a goof, and while usually you find it all a bit ridiculous, it does the trick, the uncomfortable emotions you’re feeling lessen.

“No, but seriously, you seem upset, is everything alright?” Brett’s voice takes on a more serious tone, and he gives you a sympathetic smile. “I know we’re not close like you and Miguel, but I do consider you a friend, and if I can help, I’d like to.”

Are you crying? You think you might cry. “Shut up, why are you being so nice to me?”

“I’m a nice guy, not like that, an actual nice guy, a nice person.”

You sigh and roll your neck, letting it hang to one side as you look at Brett. “I think I might be jealous?”

“Oh, of Miguel and Ava? Yeah, I see them hanging out sometimes, she’s hot.”

Gut punch.

“You’ve seen them hanging out?” You dig your nails into your palm to try and keep the emotion out of your voice. Thankfully it works.

“Sometimes, used to see them hanging out before you two got close, but it’s picked back up recently.” Brett says, casting a surprisingly subtle glance over at the dark-haired pair.

Double gut punch.

“Oh…cool.” You reach for your phone preparing to either hide in it or text Miguel and tell him you have to miss lunch, either way you’re pretty sure you’re going to start crying.

Brett snaps to attention and reaches out to put a hand on your shoulder. “Shit, y/n, I didn’t even—I’m sorry.”

“No, no, Miguel and I are just friends, I don’t care who he hangs out with, it doesn’t matter to me.”

Totally doesn’t matter that he defended you against Kron, that he said he wanted to have a daughter with you. That you almost kissed, that he’s coming with you to the semiformal, that you eat lunch together every day during the week, totally doesn’t matter.

“Oh well...I don’t think they’re dating or anything, Miguel isn’t like that, he wouldn’t…” He rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “He’s not the kind of guy to lead someone on.”

“I said we’re just friends. Bye Brett.” You snap, shoving your phone back in your pocket and readjusting your backpack as you speed walk in the opposite direction of Miguel. Hoping fervently that you can make it back to the Humanities Building, then to the parking lot, before he notices you’re gone.

Of course, you have no such luck, and you can hear Miguel calling out to you, then your phone lights up in your hand.

“Hey.” You say, keeping your voice calm.

“Y/N, where are you going, I thought we were getting lunch?” His voice is so sweet, so concerned, and you hate him for it.

“I forgot my next class was canceled, and I have a big essay coming up, I’m just going to go home and work on it.” You lie, digging your car keys out of your backpack.

“Oh…okay…” You can picture him, standing there all alone, looking down at his feet, clutching the strap of his backpack protectively, his voice thick with disappointment.

You hate yourself for feeling guilty, but then you remember he’s not alone, he has Ava.

“Just go eat lunch with Ava, you guys seemed pretty cozy, don’t let me interrupt.” You can’t stop the venom from dripping into your voice.

“Interrupt? Y/N, you wouldn’t be—no, I’m not—Ava is just—it’s not like that.” Clearly, the words are spilling past his lips faster than his brain can process them.

“I don’t care, go, have fun, do whatever you want.” It’s petty, and unreasonable, you know, but you’re hurt, and you want him to hurt too. You hang up and put your phone on do not disturb, slamming your car door shut and heading home as you burst into tears.

Directly connected parts are: Flowers On Your Doorstep and Semiformal Kisses and Cat Fights

TL: @bat-bae, @nyctophilic0vitnir, @smokeywhalee, @obi-mom-kenobi, @prowlingforfood, @penggion, @crystal-crax, @oharasfilipinawife, @generalkenobitrash, @melsimps, @chrishy973, @farrowroyale, @palesatan, @scaryplanetdestroyer, @denzmallows, @36namey

[uhohwhathaveidone]

I'm on me knees begging for a Sebastian x Slytherin reader

Your wish is my command <3

Lay Your Head on my Shoulder (S.S)

A fluffy fic, not angst like yesterday! Reader is gender neutral, with no gender roles applied. (No they/them!). No spoilers for this one either! Just three friends being buddies (Two of them are in love with each other and the other one just enjoys listening to them banter). I hope you enjoy! I'm off to grab pudding now <3

      The moment you came into the sorting ceremony, hair a mess and outfit covered in dust and dirt, Sebastian knew he wanted to get to know you. How many times do new students show up late for the ceremony? Even more, how many students show up to Hogwarts in their fifth year, and late! He watched you hurry to the front of the room, too busy to see everyone’s eyes on you. He nudged Ominis with his shoulder, whispering, “They’ve got to be a Slytherin. What other house would show up late to their own sorting?” Ominis furrowed his brows in confusion, he didn’t know there was someone late coming in. Sebastian watched, mesmerized, as the sorting hat was placed on your head. He couldn’t quite hear what the hat was saying, but it looked like he was really pondering which house to put you in. “Oh well, it seems like you will be a good fit in Slytherin!” Sebastian smiled in triumph and applauded alongside his fellow students, watching you as you walked down the small steps and following Professor Weasley.

      “This is your common room, the Slytherin Commons. Here, you will get to know your fellow housemates. I’m sure you will find what little items you brought with you on your bed.” Professor Weasley said, motioning to the wall. You looked in awe and confusion as the two serpents moved smoothly along the wall and formed a door, welcoming you in. You nodded in the direction of the professor and stepped inside. The room was dim, and the walls were cobbled, like a basement or a dungeon. You looked around, taking in the details around you before making your way to where everyone slept. You passed by a student, who pointed you in the direction of where your bed would be, and you headed over. “What little items you have” was an understatement. All you really brought was yourself and the clothes on your back, but on your bed lay a bundle of green and black, your uniform and robes.

      Once you had gotten changed and comfortable, you ventured out and back to the commons, given the task of talking to those in your house. You had only made it to the opening of the big room when Sebastian showed up by your side. “Hello there, I’m Sebastian.” He held his hand out, and you took it. He pointed to the figure behind him, “This is Ominis.” You looked past Sebastian, finding the boy who only waved. You told them your name as Sebastian led you to one of the couches. “So, tell us. Were you actually almost swallowed by a dragon?” Sebastian asks, a smile on his lips. You nodded softly, still looking around. “How did you manage to do that?” You could only shrug, explaining, “It just appeared out of the sky. It chased us and eventually bit our carriage in half and then knocked us out of it.” Sebastian looked at you in wonder, his chocolate eyes twinkling. “How did you survive? Surely you were high up, there would be no way someone would have survived a fall like that.” You shook your head, pressing a finger to your lips. “That’s a secret.”

      You became quick friends with Sebastian and Ominis. Sebastian had accompanied you on your trip to Hogsmeade to get new supplies, and even bought you a few items, ones that he swore you needed, but you could tell they weren’t part of the supply list. He even invited you to join his dueling club, after you sent him to the ground during your first duel, one that he called a “Proper Hogwarts Welcome.” You walked over to him and offered your hand, and he gladly took it. In that moment, he asked you to join the club. You had accepted, of course, what better way to practice spells? Sebastian also wanted to help you catch up on all that you missed to make sure you were prepared for the O.W.L.S. That was when Sebastian suggested a study group, and invited Ominis to join you.

      You turned the page and picked up your quill, jotting down information that you deemed important as you read. You looked over to Sebastian, who had gone off topic talking about all the times he tried a simple bubble charm, how they would burst within a second, and how he couldn’t figure out how to make it work. “You’d think it would be easy for you, since you’re already a bubble brain.” You joked, putting your quill down. Sebastian turned to you, lips formed into a pout. You were sitting next to each other on the couch, the same one he had sat you down on to bombard you with questions on your first day. He swatted at you, missing as you scooted quickly away. Sebastian turned his head back to Ominis, trying to continue his conversation, only to be met with Ominis silently holding a laugh at your comment. “Not you too, Ominis!” You took this moment to pick your quill up once again, pointing the feather in Sebastian’s direction. Quickly, you jumped him, using the feather of your quill to tickle him where he was vulnerable, his neck. “Hey!” Sebastian proceeded to try to take your quill away, grabbing at your wrists and poking you in the sides, causing you to let go. “Aww, no fair.” You pouted, watching Sebastian place your quill far away so you couldn’t reach it. “This is completely fair, and besides, you started it.” He said, smirking. You huffed in response, “I need that to take notes.” “Should have thought about that before you went and lost your quill privileges.”

      You had settled down, stuck reading from your book and trying to memorize what you were reading. You constantly looked over at Sebastian, hoping to find a moment where he was preoccupied so you could grab your quill back. Each time you looked over, however, Sebastian met your eyes. A faint warmth spread to your cheeks each time and you buried your nose back into the book in your hands. Sebastian smiled softly each time you would hurry to get back into the book, continuing to read aloud the chapter you were going over.

      “So, this transfiguration spell says that, if used correctly, you could turn a teapot into a…tortoise?” Sebastian read out, confusion written all over his face. You looked around, searching for a teapot. “I don’t see one anywhere. Perhaps we could use something else?” You asked, leaning over Sebastian’s shoulder, to look at the picture on the page. Sebastian was grateful that you were more interested in the book than anything else, or you would have seen his face light up at the sudden contact. “We could use Sebastian. He’s like a teapot, no?” Ominis offered, a smile growing on his face. You nodded quickly, pushing Sebastian against the back of the couch and raising your wand. “Wait! Why me? First off,” Sebastian started, eyes wide. “I am nothing like a teapot!” You raised an eyebrow, “But you made us tea just a bit ago. That’s the same thing.” Ominis nodded, taking the moment to reach for his own tea. “Precisely, this tea in my hand didn’t magically appear.” Sebastian scoffed as he turned his attention back to you. You had stood up and moved in front of him, book in one hand and wand in the other. “Let’s see…so I wave my wand like this.” You flailed your wand up, squinting to read the next step. “Can we just talk about this? I really don’t want to be a tortoise, even for a moment!” Sebastian panicked, unsure if you were actually willing to cast the spell on him.

      Ominis took a sip of his tea, brows furrowed. “There’s another spell about it, so we should be able to turn you back pretty quickly.” You nodded as you turned the page, looking for the other spell. “Hmm. No, that’s how to turn a teacup into a tortoise. I don’t think you can actually turn the tortoise back into a teapot once it’s done.” You spoke, looking closely at the page. Sebastian sighed in relief. “Oh well. We could keep him as a pet.” You said, closing the book and readying your wand. Sebastian had to think quickly, it didn’t seem like you were pretending anymore. Quickly, he lunged forward and grabbed you by the waist, throwing you onto the couch and stealing your wand. Ominis sat there, tea still in hand, listening to the commotion, not quite sure what was going on, but the shriek you let out and the sound of the couch being disturbed told him you probably had been taken down. “I refuse to be your pet tortoise!” Sebastian shouted, throwing a pillow at you. Covering your face, you shouted back, “We would feed you three times a day! And make sure you actually took baths!” Sebastian paused, another pillow in his hand, raised. “What do you mean “Actually took baths”?!” You laughed to yourself, finding it rather funny that he took offense to such a small statement. “Probably because you smell like ash. All the time. Like you take ash baths or something.” Ominis quipped, placing his tea down. Sebastian scoffed, dropping the pillow. “I’ll have you know that I do bathe. I just naturally smell nice!” He sat down, arms crossed. You sat up, moving the pillow he threw at you and putting it behind your back. “Sure, you do.”

      You grabbed your book once again, flipping to the page you were on. “Hey, Sebastian?” You asked, looking over to the still pouting Slytherin. He huffed in response, turning to you. You put on your best smile, and used your favourite tactic against him; puppy dog eyes. “Can I please have my quill back? Please?” You asked, looking directly into his eyes. He stuttered, and you could have sworn he blushed, but that meant that it was working. “Uh- you- yeah, sure.” He handed your quill back and you thanked him, patting his head teasingly. Ominis hid a smirk, knowing exactly what had just happened. You happily held your quill and began writing down information once again. Sebastian sat, stunned. He cleared his throat and turned back to his own book.

      You had been going through the chapter for what seemed like hours. Your eyes had begun to get heavy, and you stifled a yawn as you put your quill down. Sebastian had begun trying to explain another spell, which was puzzling him, yet again. Another quiet yawn, you scooted closer to look at his book instead. Sebastian didn’t seem to notice. Your eyes grew heavier as you struggled to keep them open, opting to rest your head on Sebastian’s shoulder to keep you upright. Sebastian noticed this and stiffened up. This could be one of your pranks, he thought. He continued to read out the spell incantation.

      “Titillando, says it’s a tickling hex. You better watch out, you never know when I’ll hit you with it now that I know it.” Sebastian joked, raising the shoulder you had rested your head on. You didn’t respond, shifting a little bit instead. Sebastian waited for you to say something back, the only sound now was the crackling of the fire in the hearth. “Hey, did you hear me?” He asked once again, titling his head to hit you with his own. You sniffled in response, burying your nose into his robes. Truth be told, Sebastian was probably the one that made you fall asleep. Not because he was boring, oh no. He had a calming voice, and although you had teased him earlier about baths, you had to admit that he did smell nice. Those two factors, paired with the mixed warmth of the fire and body heat from Sebastian, knocked you out in minutes, breathing softly as you dreamed about whatever your mind could come up with.

      Sebastian froze, now aware that you were asleep, worried that any movement he may wake you. As if headbutting you didn’t do the trick, surely if he even breathed too hard, you’d wake up. He took the moment to look at your face. He watched as the light from the fire danced on your skin, and how your cheek had squished against his shoulder, the sound that you made now that you were practically suffocating yourself after shoving your nose deeper into his robes. He let out the breath he was holding, slowly relaxing his shoulders. He took a final look at your face before turning his head back to Ominis. “Asleep, typical.” He said, turning the page. “Anyway, where were we?”

      The next morning, you met Sebastian and Ominis at the door of the common room, ready to make your routine walk to the dining hall. Sebastian led the way, not taking much of a moment to look at you. Still groggy, you brushed it off, walking next to Ominis and yawning. “For someone that fell asleep in the middle of our study session, you still seem to be tired.” He stated, smiling. You furrowed your brows, “I fell asleep during our study?” Ominis nodded, pointing to Sebastian. “I’m pretty sure you fell asleep on Mr. Tortoise. He had to carry you up to your bed last night.” Your dormmates must have helped him find your bed; your cheeks heated up at the thought. You thought back to before you fell asleep, a foggy image of leaning on Sebastian to look at his book forming in your mind. Your cheeks grew hotter at the realization. You were quiet the rest of the walk to the dining hall.

      Taking your seat next to Sebastian, you reached for something to eat. The food of your choice just so happened to be on the other side of Sebastian, and you took a moment to formulate a plan. You could just ask Sebastian to grab it for you, or just get up and grab it yourself. Or, you could be annoying and try to reach over him, in turn causing you to probably embarrass yourself, and probably Sebastian. It was the perfect plan. Taking a breath, you leaned up against Sebastian, reaching across him. He stiffened, eyes wide as you turned your body and put your head back on his shoulder, using the arm that was now next to Sebastian to reach farther. You smiled and hummed in triumph as your fingers curled around your target, retracting your arm and turning back in your seat. Sebastian stood there, stunned. You continued to smile as you began to eat. Regaining his composure, Sebastian fixed his robes and cleared his throat. “If you needed me to grab something for you, all you had to do was ask.” He said, keeping his face turned from you to hide the red that had taken over his whole face. You hummed in response, taking another bite. “And miss a moment to have a pillow? Not a chance.” Sebastian shook his head and finally turned his head towards you. “You can just ask, you know?” You titled your head and raised an eyebrow. “Ask what?” Sebastian took a moment to collect his thoughts, before finally breathing out, “To lay your head on my shoulder. I won’t complain.” You smiled, taking the moment to do just that.

[hoshinasblade]

Professor!Hoshina thoughts.

Like I instinctually think he’d be an English teacher who does higher level courses specializing in Japanese literature and poetry. The kind where the class size is like 20 people or less.

On the other hand, I can also see him teaching gen ed literature for entering freshmen and just being a super chill guy. He’d be all “I get that the majority of you don’t want to be here, but you gotta so let’s get through this together.”

Regardless of type of course, I think Hoshina would know exactly how to motivate (oo la la~ lol) his students. He understands people have lives outside of his classroom. He’s attentive during one-on-one conferences, and has great office hours. General student consensus is that he’s strict, but fair.

Also glasses. Like reading glasses. He doesn’t wear them while teaching, but he does in his office for grading and doing computer work. Idk if this is what you’re looking for l, but yeah

if i could make out with this ask, i would have 🥹 this is a bit long so buckle up.

quick trivia that i am an english major; that's why i mentioned in my post before that i am biased on making vice-captain hoshina an english professor if i am going to write a fic where he is a teacher. it just fits his character, i would agree. it's also canon that he reads poetry so there's that too. personally i agree that he would be someone who teaches something esoteric as this parallels his role in the manga/anime. might be slightly off-tangent but this assumption of mine relates to how hoshina is portrayed as someone who is stubborn and proud. it was clear in the beginning that his own father thought that use of blades is already obsolete, but what did hoshina do? he persevered, earning a spot beside the highest ranking official in the third division. i would say something similar would happen when hoshina decided to go down his own path of being a professor - he comes from a well-off clan, i suppose he can choose any other profession if he wants to, but he stands by his decision to be a part of the academe anyway.

now off to the good stuff. NSFW AFTER THE CUT, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

hoshina is strict within the four corners of the classroom because he values his principles and his reputation. he can be friends with a few of his students outside school but during class hours, he carries himself as serious and businesslike. which is why i arrived at two scenarios if we are going to discuss anything nsfw involving professor!hoshina:

professor!hoshina x student!reader has a very slim chance of happening but you will be able to make it happen because hoshina sees himself at you. of course you being hot and attractive also helps out your case, but what takes the cake is that you aren't scared to speak your thoughts and fight for them. i can imagine a classroom setup, a heated argument about a required reading, and you find yourself on the opposite side of the discussion from hoshina. usually a student would be afraid to disagree with a professor's opinion, but not you and that gets his attention. having learned that you are in his class not because you ran out of elective program to enrol to but because you actually like the specialised course, i see hoshina getting impressed at how much you respect his field of expertise. the thing is i don't believe he would proactively initiate a sexual relationship with one of his students, but one after-class consultation leads to another, and the farthest he is willing to go with you is... sexting. he is already gambling with his life here, but he thinks this is the safest the both of you can go where losses will not be much. you don't send him nudes right away because you know him better than that - the pictures you send him are just enough to provoke something inside him: a shot of you wearing a black lace bra that barely covered your nipples, or a skimpy skirt that showcases your ass. his response would be him telling you in explicit detail what he would like to do to you once you are not his student anymore. when you got your clearance to graduate, he celebrated by asking you to sit on his desk, commanding you to show him your pussy and finger yourself for him as he jerks off his cock in front of you, watching. he will most definitely fuck you on top of the desk after, and to hell with the papers and documents atop his table, he won't stop his thrusts until he gets to cum inside you for the first time.

professor!hoshina x colleague!reader where hoshina is rightfully hesitant on starting anything at all because he thinks workplace affairs are tacky and impractical. but you make him laugh, and you are not bad at your job too (he's interested at the fact your students are fond of you despite the fact that your program has such a high rate of failing students). he commiserates with you on the struggle of being an effective class facilitator and he is surprised at how you and him have so much in common - you are both into poetry but hates superficial verbiage, you and him believe that a professor's role is not only to teach, but to make sure that students are learning - sometimes those two can be different things - and that although you prefer less sugar, you and hoshina are into coffee. when the literature department spent a friday night drinking at the local bar, you were stuck in the streets during the late hour, and hoshina being a gentleman, offered to take you home. which he did - take you home, just with the worst intentions. maybe it's the alcohol that made him cockier than usual, or maybe it was him catching a glimpse of you undressing so you can change into a more comfortable blouse, but he took the leap of kissing you first, shoving his tongue in your throat, his palm roaming on your chest. let's just say that you were lucky it was the weekend the morning after, because it would have been embarrassing to be walking funny in campus.

... i feel like i yapped too much, so im gonna stop now lol. if you have more thoughts, my inbox is always open. :)

EDIT: just an addition because i think i missed the last part of your ask - YES, GLASSES ON PROFESSOR!HOSHINA. i already came up with a scene where you took his eyeglasses off because you already wanna eat his face and he's like "you know i can't see you that well without my glasses right", and your response will be "that's fine, i can take the lead". my brain is melting with all the ideas, someone help me 😩😩😩

[pixelnrd]

I'm really enjoying Jasmine's story! Sex and romance are obviously huge themes for her, how did you decide to make those a focus for her? I've been getting some Sex in the City vibes from her, which feels era-appropriate. Was that your inspiration, or did your ideas come from somewhere else?

Thanks!

Thanks for this ask, I love doing a deep dive into characters and my motivations behind them!

Sex and the City was a huge inspiration behind Jasmine's character, specifically Carrie Bradshaw - she is a young woman who wants to make something of herself and is proud of her achievements and success, but at the same time she wants recognition from the opposite sex (hence her track record with men). She is on-trend and finds glamour and status and money alluring, and she doesn't mind taking legs up where she can with a bit of help from others who have access to those things (like Andrew). She loves her family and friends, but is also a bit selfish and self-interested and lets her desires get the better of her (like her mistake with sleeping with the professor).

Jasmine is a reflection and a product of third-wave feminism and everything it achieved, which is why she is who she is in the 2000s. Her sexual freedom and 'promiscuity' are a result of this, thanks to the third-waves work bringing about sex positivity and a dismantling of taboos around women and sex. However, her character fits squarely into this box of sexually free, attractive career woman. If she were to get married, her sexuality would be expected to be curbed because these roles (professional vs wife vs mother) were still separated from eachother at this point in time (and to be honest, this is still being dismantled even today in 2024). She can't be a career woman and a mother! She can't be a wife and openly sexual! These are things that might impact on her development as we go on...

The other thing I wanted to portray with Jasmine's character in this generation is a juxtaposition with other sexually free females that have come before her in this Legacy.

Think about Daisy, who was sexually motivated and liberal in the 1920s - this got her into trouble several times and affected her entire life, resulting in her running away, unplanned pregnancies, shame over her children's parentage, and an inability to provide for or acknowledge those illegitimate children while with her husband. Daisy couldn't be free to do as she wanted because of social constraints, and when she dared to break social norms (by having sex outside of marriage) she was punished.

Similarly, Maggie in the 1950s was also a sexually liberal female - she enjoyed experimenting with boys from a young age in secret, which led to her Challengers-esque relationship with Em and Alex. She had a lot of children with her husband - which was a socially acceptable way to show the world you were sexual - but she also had an affair with the man she probably should have married in the first place. She then lived the rest of her life feeling guilt over what she did. If divorce was around back then, and socially acceptable, Maggie could have explored the way she clearly needed to at a young age before settling down and becomming a mother.

Jasmine, by contrast to these women who came before her, has so much freedom to explore and experiment before she feels pressure to settle down. And as this challenge nears the end, I wanted her story to reflect how far women have come in that time since her ancestors and their experiences.

And finally... Lovestruck came out when I started this generation, and it all felt a bit fitting to play through the features of this new pack with this particular character, in this particular decade!

[fluffyneondinosaur]

a little oneshot that I wrote

It's basically Harry finding out that his father and co were bullies, and features snape crying. Maybe tw: implied rape, but it can really be read as any bullying that involves physical contact. I don't actually write, so apologies if it's not very good. Everyone can rewrite it, or write a companion fic, if you do, tag me!

Also, I need a title for this, if you have any ideas drop it in the comments!

“It’s not bloody fair!” Ron exclaimed, gesturing angrily as they walked out of McGonagall’s office. “She’s all like Oh, Professor Snape is responsible for his students, and he is free to discipline them however he sees fit! We’ll be scrubbing cauldrons every night for the rest of the month thanks to that greasy git!”

Hermione frowned over at him. “A month is a bit much, but don’t you think you could’ve focused any better? You and Harry really did make a rather spectacular explosion.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Even if I hadn’t done anything wrong, he’d still have given me detention. Ruining my potion just made it better for him.” Hermione opened her mouth with a disapproving look.

As she was about to speak, a door slamming ahead of them caught their attention. Dumbledore was hurrying down the hallway with an abnormally worried and upset expression casting shadows over his face.

“Professor Dumbledore?” Hermione asked cautiously. “Is something wrong?”

A sharp pang of fear shot through Harry.”Did Voldemort do something? Is someone hurt?”

Dumbledore slowed his pace, looking down at them, and sighed. “No Harry, he has not.” He glanced over at Hermione. “Professor Snape was hit by a ruined potion during class this morning, which exacerbated his injuries from his latest, ah, excursion.” Harry had to suppress a feeling of vindictive satisfaction that Snape hadn’t gotten away from his Death Eater mates unscathed. The feeling quickly mixed with one of mild shame when he registered the first half of the sentence. 

“He is in critical condition right now, I must go visit him.” Dumbledore said, striding quickly in the direction of the infirmary.

Hermione ran to catch up to him. “Could we come with you Professor?” Dumbledore hesitated for a moment, before nodding.

Harry’s and Ron’s eyes widened comically. “Hermione!” Harry hissed under his breath.

Hermione turned to glare at both of them. “What? Who’s potion was it that hurt him? And made the injuries that he got spying for us worse?”

Harry shifted uncomfortably. Ron, on the other hand, scowled. “Maybe he spills all of our secrets to You-Know-Who, serves him right.” Harry elbowed him. 

Hermione angrily turned her nose up at him. “Professor Snape is on our side, whether you like it or not. And your potions disaster is the reason that he’s dying right now.” She turned and stormed off, following Dumbledore in the distance.

Harry’s stomach twisted painfully, and even Ron looked uneasy. “Wait! We’ll come with you.”

The three of them followed the headmaster to the infirmary, into one of the private rooms. Madam Pomfrey was standing by Snape’s bed, casting protective charms around him. She looked up as they came in. “Stay by the door, the potions that I gave him will cause him to hallucinate, and he might attack if you come too close. The hallucinations are from real moments of his life.”

Dumbledore nodded somberly, and the children exchanged a look. Madam Pomfrey finished casting the spells, and left the room, presumably to retrieve more healing potions. The room was silent for a long moment.

“Potter!” Snape’s voice rang out. Harry jumped, spinning to look at him in shock.

“Professor- ”

“Back with your little friends aren’t you?” 

Dumbledore frowned. “Severus- ”

“Don’t use my name like you’re some kind of friend Lupin! You’re just as bad as the rest of them!” He sneered.

Snape was talking about his father, Sirius, Remus, and Pettigrew, Harry realized in shock, before it turned to anger. He opened his mouth to retort, when Snape continued.

“Four on one appeals to your Gryffindor honor doesn’t it? The house of the reckless and stupid. You four are prime examples of it. Trapping me in a loo, don’t you think it’s below you Black?”

Ron snorted. “What’re they going to do, give him a swirly?”

Harry frowned, discomfited. Dudley and his friends used to do the same to him, and it was disturbing to think that his father may have done the same. He watched Snape closely, as his sneer vanished suddenly, his face darkening in horror with a flicker of fear crossing his eyes.

Dumbledore stepped forward with an uncharacteristically afraid expression. “Severus? My boy, what happened?”

Snape didn’t seem to hear, staring in front of him in shock. He suddenly shrieked, yanking himself backwards, thrashing on the bed. “No! Don’t touch me!”

Dumbledore’s face paled, and Harry felt like vomiting.

Snape stared ahead for a moment, before his face collapsed, and he let out a choked sob. “Please stop, I can't do this anymore. Lupin, you’re a prefect, stop your friends please… please.” 

Harry felt like a knife had been plunged into his heart. No wonder he hates me so much, if whatever my father did destroyed him enough to make him cry.

Dumbledore’s face was ashen, and Hermione had her hand over her mouth, her eyes glassy. Ron was staring at the floor.

Snape let out a shuddering breath, tears freely falling down his face now. He looked up at his imaginary attackers. “Why can’t you ever just leave me alone?”

[beegomess]

Dark Paradise | Theodore Nott

Don't forget to see the previous chapters here

Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated 🫶🏼

02. Childhood Crushes

Draco had been running away from Astoria through the castle corridors all morning. Malfoy didn’t hate the girl; he just felt suffocated, and being rude to her was not an option thanks to Y/N.

— Don’t make me be like you, Y/N, please. — the blond whispered to his sister during Transfiguration class. Astoria was staring at him and smiling slightly; he kept his face neutral, trying to eliminate any possibility of pleasing her. — She’s stalking us, and I know you hate it too.

Y/N sighed at her brother's confession; she couldn’t deny he was right, but she decided to ignore him, not wanting to get a reprimand from McGonagall. Being Draco’s sister and a Slytherin already made some teachers pay more attention to her mistakes. Draco noticed that the professor was already watching them from afar and decided to do as Y/N did. The blond was relieved when the class finally ended and chased Y/N through the corridors, but lost sight of her. He headed to the Slytherin common room, finding Parkinson and Mattheo there, deciding they would be his advisors.

— She’s just in love. It’s a phase; she’ll forget about you soon. — Pansy was sitting in one of the chairs, next to Mattheo.

— She’s been in this phase since our second year, haven’t you noticed? — the blond threw himself onto the sofa.

— Why don’t you just give her what she wants? Maybe she’ll forget about you then. — Mattheo spoke up, drawing the attention of both to himself. — Come on, let’s be honest, Draco, she’s not that bad. — He had a mischievous smile on his lips, which made Pansy roll her eyes in disapproval and Draco raise his eyebrows in interest. But the girl was quick to notice his reaction and respond.

— Absolutely not. — she paused, looking at the two with a deadly stare — You’re not going to do that, Malfoy.

And before Draco could respond, Theodore and Y/N entered the common room. The appearance of the two friends who weren’t so friendly before made Pansy and Riddle look at them strangely and mentally note it.

— Do what? — Y/N asked, sitting in the chair next to Pansy, while Theodore just approached the group.

— Sleep with Astoria so she’ll leave you alone. — Mattheo said simply, as if it were something completely ordinary.

— It’s amazing, I leave you alone for a few moments, and you’re already thinking about following Mattheo’s advice? — Y/N smiled and continued. — Now ask him if it works for him.

— Well, this week that Ravenclaw girl knocked on our dorm door again looking for you. — Theodore received a stern look from his roommate.

— See? If you’re with her, it might seem like a chance to like her back. — Y/N added.

— Not to mention that my sister doesn’t deserve to lose her virginity to someone who doesn’t like her. — Daphne appeared from the dormitory stairs, causing everyone there to be startled.

— Well, in that case, let’s have her try with Adrian; maybe they’ll end up liking each other and fitting together, after all. — Y/N stood up, grabbing her bag from the floor, making a move to leave the room, until Pansy let something slip. She didn’t mean to, it just came out.

— Oh, Y/N. You know better than anyone here that Adrian isn’t the delicate type when it comes to that. — and only then did she realize what she had said and whispered — Damn.

— I don’t even want to know what Pansy meant by that, Y/N. — Draco gave a deadly look to his sister, who was now breathing deeply with anger at her friend. Fortunately, it was just the two of them in the common room.

— Great. — Y/N forced a sarcastic smile and left as quickly as she could.

Nott tensed again at the information, not understanding why she would be with the other Slytherin. Moments before his bad mood started in the common room, he and Y/N had been in the library, reading together. In silence, he admired how the sunlight coming through the windows illuminated the girl’s face almost theatrically. Theodore paid attention to every feature of her, her lashes fluttering with each line she finished reading, her lips curling into small smiles when she found something funny, her eyebrows furrowing when she didn’t understand something; everything about her was beautiful and harmonious.

— Theo! — Draco snapped the boy out of his thoughts, bringing back his bad mood. — I’ve been calling you for ages. — he exaggerated, standing up and leaving while mumbling some complaint.

— Where were you, by the way? — Pansy caught Theodore’s attention, who looked at her confused.

— What?

— You and Y/N. You arrived here together, and as far as I know, you were never close. — She dared to insinuate.

— Even if you’re not interested, we were studying in the library, Parkinson. — He left, also annoyed, not giving the girl a chance to respond.

— What got into him? — Daphne asked the remaining friends there.

— He seemed pretty happy when he came in here with Y/N. — Riddle answered, not realizing, but Pansy connected some dots in her mind, which until now could have been mere coincidences, or not.

[…]

The mood was anxious that day with the Winter Ball approaching. Some students were in a panic at the prospect of going to the ball alone. At the Gryffindor table, the Boy Who Lived still had not arranged a date for the event, nor had his best friend, Ronald Weasley. The redhead had always been judged by his close friends and siblings for having a crush on Malfoy’s sister, the boy who had always humiliated them without remorse. According to Ron, she wasn’t like Draco, but he didn’t know that; he only assumed it was true because she didn’t treat them with disdain.

That day, Y/N was receiving many hostile looks from other girls who wanted to go to the ball with Theodore, but certainly, the harshest look was from Hermione Granger.

— I don’t understand why she’s looking at me like that; I don’t remember doing anything to her recently. — Y/N commented quietly to Pansy and Daphne while they were having their last meal of the day in the Great Hall.

— Your brother must have done something. You know that when it comes to the Golden Trio, things always splash onto you simply for being a Malfoy as well. — Daphne replied, and Pansy nodded, while Y/N shrugged; her friends were probably right.

The three friends were heading towards the exit, accompanied by Draco, Blaise, and Mattheo, when suddenly, they were intercepted by Ron Weasley. Draco raised his nose as high as he could, already thinking of the insults he would use against the poor boy, who, just by seeing the blond’s expression, began to regret doing it at that moment. The way Y/N’s friends looked at him wasn’t very different either; their disdainful looks only made Ron more nervous.

— Y/N… — The redhead called weakly. — Could I talk to you for a minute?

— Oh, sure. What’s up? — Y/N was polite, though surprised and curious to know what he wanted to discuss with her. She didn’t realize his need to get away from the snakes surrounding him, so he had to gather every bit of his little courage and use it.

— Well, I was thinking… if you want, of course… about going to the ball with me. — He barely finished the sentence when the girl’s brother let out a loud laugh, and Y/N’s other friends looked at him with even more disdain and hidden laughter behind their hands. Y/N, on the other hand, smiled kindly, feeling sorry for him.

— Oh, Ron, I’m so sorry. But Theodore already asked me to go with him. — Y/N felt a huge pang of guilt; the boy had gathered all his courage, faced the bully that her brother was, and asked her to go with him. — But you should ask Hermione; you’re friends, aren’t you?

— Hermione? Definitely not. She’d have to make an effort to look like a girl. — Ron responded with disdain, trying to hide his frustration at being rejected. Y/N was puzzled by how he talked about the girl who was supposed to be Weasley’s best friend.

Y/N smiled, nodding at his comment, and left with Pansy, Daphne, and Mattheo, while Blaise stayed to keep Draco company, who certainly wouldn’t miss the opportunity to humiliate the boy. Weasley wasn’t quick enough to leave before being alone with Malfoy, and now he would face the consequences.

— Now, seriously, Weasley. Did you really think Y/N, my sister, would go to the ball with you? — the boy said with a cynical smirk and disdain in his eyes. The redhead didn’t reply, just accumulated his anger at going through this. — Not in your wildest dreams would that happen. You’re pathetic.

— Come on, Draco! — Y/N called from further down the corridor.

— Imagine when our father finds out, Y/N. — Draco said loudly in the corridor as he walked towards Y/N with Blaise. The laughter didn’t stop for a second; it was as if they had told the funniest joke of his life. — He’ll die laughing.

As soon as they reached the common room, Draco made a point of telling everyone there about

the recent situation, eliciting laughter from other friends and some confused looks from the unfamiliar first-years.

[…]

The next morning, nothing was talked about at the Slytherin table but the Winter Ball, while at the Gryffindor table, the boy Weasley had his head down while eating. Suddenly, an old owl entered the Great Hall and dropped a box in front of the redhead; all eyes were on him again. Upon opening the package, a ball gown was pulled out, but let’s say it would be more appropriate for a ball in the 1800s, perhaps.

It was inaudible but perceptible, the boy’s indignation. The mocking murmurs quickly followed, especially from the Slytherin table.

— You’d have to dress like our great-grandmother if Weasley took you to the ball. — Draco mocked, making the whole group laugh.

— Stop! — Y/N said, trying to hold back her laughter at her brother’s joke.

— What’s going on? I’m out of the loop. — Theodore asked, but laughed at the commotion.

— Oh, I forgot to tell you yesterday. — Mattheo started — Yesterday, after dinner, as soon as you left, Weasley asked Y/N to the ball. Draco, of course, didn’t miss the chance to make fun of him.

— Can you imagine that, Theodore? — Draco asked, laughing. — Weasley taking Y/N to the ball. And worse, in that outfit. — The blond burst into laughter, joined by his friends.

— What? Draco was with you? — He asked, confused, and Mattheo nodded. — Those Gryffindors really are quite bold. — Theodore chuckled lightly at the situation and turned his attention back to Y/N’s face, who was still laughing at what Draco had said. _______________________________

xoxo, bee🫶🏼✨

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[positivelybeastly]

Hey there! The post you made about the core of a well written Hank McCoy inspired me to ask if you'd be willing to do a similar deep dive into Hanks various relationships over the years. Not in a shippy way in so much as a pros and cons of the relationships ( all relationships have them , even good ones) and how they reflect on and influence Hanks character over time.

Hello hello! I would indeed be willing to do a deep dive, and, at the same time, find out if Tumblr text posts have a word limit! I also realised maybe 20 characters in that you meant actual. Relationships, as in romantic, and I've done just. Basically. All of his relationships. Including platonic ones. Oops. Oh well, hope you enjoy!

These won't be quite as exhaustive as if you asked me about a particular relationship, since I always work best with plenty of image resources and I already know I'm going to hit my image limit early, but I hope I can give at least my general thoughts on how Hank has influenced and changed, and been and influenced by, the following characters.

Edna and Norton McCoy

X-Men Unlimited vol. 1 #10, 1996.

You have to start all the way back at the beginning, and Hank's relationship with his parents is crucial to understanding why he is the way he is. Hank is the by product of a radiation accident that nearly killed his father, which led to the odd nature of his mutation - namely, that it manifested at birth in the form of abnormally large hands and feet.

This was, in many ways, the best case scenario that Edna and Norton could have hoped for, that their child not miscarry, be stillborn, or be born with a disability that would massively impact his quality of living - this was a very real possibility for them. So Hank being the way he was, actually stronger, more agile, and more dextrous than a normal child, and not to mention a genius intellect even at a young age (not related to his mutation, but it certainly didn't hurt) created a bit of a miracle baby effect.

They were unremittingly supportive and loving - they supported his choice in academics, they supported his football career, they supported his choice of girlfriends, they pushed him to be the best that he could be but never put undue pressure on him. He grew up feeling like he could do anything he wanted to, if he simply chose to.

The worst I can say about this relationship is that you could view it as fostering his ego - perhaps if they had tamped down on his ambitions a bit, maybe he never would have turned himself blue and furry in a fit of 'I know better than everyone else,' but I think that's a lot to put on his parents, honestly. He made that decision, and he has no-one to blame but himself for making it. Blaming his parents for that is like blaming your parents for daring to make you believe you can grow up to be somebody - like, what's the alternative, making you believe that you'll never be anybody? Horrible way to parent.

There's a bump in Marvel Team-Up #124 (1982) where Edna freaks out about her child growing up to be a superhero and more physically obvious mutant, but it's resolved when Hank proves himself to be a man of caliber and altruism, putting himself in harm's way to save a child - proving himself to be the boy that Edna raised, and she returns the favour, putting her life at risk to save him from Professor Power.

He may not be the CPA or 'normal' genius she may have wanted, but he's still brilliant, and she realises that quickly. I also think it's notable that Norton, his father, doesn't go through a similar patch, which is attributable to the fact that he sees Hank's mutation as his 'fault', as you can see in the panels above - he can't exactly blame Hank for being who he is, he's explicitly responsible for it. It would be the height of ridiculous for him to come down on Hank for who he is, when who he is is a direct result of Norton's act of heroism.

In many ways, Hank can do no wrong in his parents' eyes - but in many ways, Hank never does do wrong by his parents. He makes their lives comfortable and improves on it in a lot of ways with his intellect, and he keeps them safe as best he can. They're a little disappointed they aren't grandparents when we last hear from them in 2018, in the X-Men Christmas Special, but they're still defensive of him and love him, even though he's changed for a third time.

Charles Xavier

X-Force vol. 6 #20, 2021.

You knew this one was coming. You'll note that this is one of the few times that I'm going to use something from Benjamin Percy's X-Force in this deep dive, mostly because it's one of the few times that Percy comes close to examining who Hank is and why he is the way that he is. It's one of the few times in X-Force that anyone asks, why is Hank doing what he's doing? Why is he committing these actions?

Because, in many ways, he's still chasing Charles Xavier's approval.

Charles does Hank maybe the biggest disservice of any of his original X-Men, save maybe Scott - while he plucks Scott out of an abusive home and then moulds him into a soldier for his dream, pretty much completely failing to give him any coping mechanisms for what that's going to do to Scott's relationships with other people and his ability to maintain a normal life, Charles plucks Hank out of a loving home, and cuts him off from it. He telepathically wipes Hank's parents' mind of his existence for a while, to 'protect' him, but really, he's isolating Hank, and installing himself as a father figure.

Whether he realises he's doing this or not is immaterial, because it's canon, as established in Marvel Presents #85-92 (1991) and reaffirmed in X-Men Origins: Beast (2008). And though Hank doesn't appreciate it, on some level hates Charles for it forever, he falls for it, because he is a fundamentally altruistic person who knows he has a responsibility to use his intellect and his mutation to make life better for other people - this is the canon reason he joins the X-Men, and it's important to remember that, because he has no need of training to foster his gifts like Jean or Bobby, and he has a home, unlike Scott. In many ways, he's actually most like Warren, but we'll get to that.

There are moments where Hank separates from Xavier, most notably in Uncanny X-Men #8 (1964) and Amazing Adventures #11 (1971), and it's significant that the latter split leads to, arguably, the best years of his life, where he's freest to be who he wants to be and enjoy his life. He joins the Avengers and the Defenders, he becomes a sex symbol, he feels comfortable in his own skin, he explicitly feels no pressure to use his intellectual gifts, and instead is, arguably, most himself.

It's especially interesting when you consider that even with all that in mind, he still matures and grows up and realises, independently of Xavier, that he still has a responsibility to help - but rather than being inorganically forced to take on that role by a man he doesn't know, he realises it in New Defenders #142 (1985) when a mutant activist calls him out on his immaturity and his lack of forward momentum.

Hank self-reflects, and self-actualises, and forms a grassroots mutant political activist group called M.O.N.S.T.E.R (Mutants Only Need Sensitivity, Tolerance, and Equal Rights), which is something that Charles would NEVER do. Its emphasis on elevating mutants everywhere, rather than focusing on providing examples of mutant heroism like the X-Men, is unique, and I really do wish we'd gotten to see more of a grass roots approach to mutant politics. But.

Then, Hank gets pulled into X-Factor, and all of that goes away. Then, he gets pulled into the X-Men, and his life becomes smaller. And smaller, and smaller, and smaller. And his life becomes worse, and worse, and worse. Eventually, he hits the point where Charles is handing him an Infinity Stone, and consigning him to joining the Illuminati in his stead, and Hank doesn't want to be there, but he feels obligated to, because this was Charles' last wish, his literal will and testament, and he can't say no to that. But he should've. Because it tortures him, and it all ends up being for nothing anyway. Thanks, Chuck.

That being said, I think one of the most telling depictions of Hank and the Professor's relationship actually comes from Astonishing X-Men vol. 3 #12, where Scott is dressing down the Professor for enslaving Danger. Something I really appreciate about that scene is that it highlights how different Hank and Scott are in their relationship with Xavier.

Perhaps because Scott grew up with an abusive parental figure in Jack Winters and Hank grew up with very loving parents, Scott was able to recognise Charles' toxic behaviour and break away from Xavier - it might also have had something to do with the fact that at least one of Charles' biggest fuck ups had to do with Scott's brother Gabriel? Hard to say. But Hank, who Charles very carefully isolated from his parents by mindwiping them for years of Hank's whole existence, never really managed to break free of him, and it shows here really acutely.

Hell, it arguably never went away, even into the Krakoan era - a more interesting version of X-Force would have really dived into the kind of fucked up dynamic they have, where Chuck keeps covering for Beast's moral transgressions for seemingly no reason, because in some respects, he's responsible for them. He gave him the power, he gave him no oversight, but even more pressingly, he wasn't there for him emotionally. He pulled him into this life and didn't prepare him for the toll it would take, how much it would ruin Beast by the time he gets to Krakoa. Beast needed someone to help him there, and no-one did, which is part of why he went on the skids, I think.

But anyway, Whedon does a lot of moments where Hank is present for scenes but doesn't speak, which is important for a character who's well known for not shutting the fuck up. This, the initial cure conversation, the whole conversation about Piotr - Hank clams up. He doesn't feel like he can talk about it. He's off in his own head, his thoughts are his own, he doesn't feel the need to share them.

And here, it's especially important, because this is a big moral violation that Charles has committed in their name. I know it may be hard to remember, but back in the day, Hank had a moral opinion that was worth something, so the fact that he doesn't say anything here speaks volumes about just how much he feels capable of calling out the Professor, i.e. not at all. He craves Xavier's validation, his approval, he feels a kinship with Chuck. So he doesn't criticise him like he should.

It's especially interesting given that this would continue through the Utopia era. Every time Scott distanced himself from Xavier, Hank was there to comfort Charles, and I feel like that's just something he feels like he has to do. He feels like the devoted brother to Scott's more radical, more willing to criticise brother, and if Bendis had any interest in Beast as a character, he would've played on that in All-New X-Men - the fact that Scott killed their toxic father figure, and Beast feels both free of an influence he didn't know was choking him, but outraged that Scott would break their 'family' like that.

I find Beast compelling because of his flaws, and this is an interesting moment when you take all of that into account. I don't even know if that was the intention of this scene, or if Whedon just wanted to give Scott the speech, but it's interesting, nonetheless, and it really shines a light on how Hank and Charles see each other. I'm very interested to see Hank's take on where Charles has ended up in From the Ashes, because it has the potential to really change that dynamic.

Scott Summers

Astonishing X-Men vol. 3 #34, 2010.

Hank McCoy is Scott Summers' best friend.

I said it because it's true, and it's true reading all the way back to the Silver Age, honestly. Even as Bobby's screaming his head off about Scott being a stuck up asshole, Hank's quietly reminding Bobby that Scott can't be anyone other than who he is, "he can't help his psychological make-up," and I think that gets at a really important part of their relationship. Just as Scott's mind is attractive to telepaths because it's so neatly ordered and makes perfect sense to them, Scott's personality is appealing to Hank because he makes sense to him. Scott is orderly, anxious, dedicated, intelligent, hides his true feelings, and wants to belong, even as he stands apart. Hank is most, if not all, of these things, and so, they get each other. Bobby fucks around, Warren schmoozes and gets cocky, Jean is a GIRL AND THEREFORE SCARY, but Hank and Scott just get each other.

Which makes it all the more tragic when they fall apart, because Hank sees it all and it makes sense to him, even as it breaks his heart. What a lot of people misunderstand about Hank's arc during Utopia is that they read his moral grandstanding as self-righteousness or hypocrisy or a big ol' stick he wants to use to hit people with, and it's honestly not that. I really don't think it is.

I think he sees Scott sacrificing the parts of himself that make him a good man so that he can make a better general, and it terrifies him. He sees him become callous, manipulative, cold-blooded, willing to risk everything on a course of action because he believes he's right. Hank thinks he's fighting for the soul of the X-Men, for his own soul, for Scott's soul, even as everyone else is fighting for mutantkind.

Hank went through his own journey in Endangered Species, and he knows that there's nothing he can do, so why fight it? Why not just stop, and live out his days being the best man he can be, a member of the first and last generation of mutants, and let it go? Because no-one saw what he saw.

No-one saw the end of mutantkind inscribed on the vellum of reality like he did, saw what he would become if he did what Scott did and did anything and everything to stop the death of the mutant race - no-one else knows how close he came to jumping into the abyss and becoming Dark Beast. And no-one, honestly, cares. Hank doesn't tell anyone, because he never does, but it absolutely informs his views going forward. It can't not.

But no-one is interested enough in Hank McCoy's feelings to really ask why he's so insistent, or what happened when he was gone. He's a private individual, and he never told anyone. He felt profoundly ashamed of what he did while he was gone, which didn't exactly help. So his moral insistence just comes across as hatred, and it's not. He loves Scott Summers like a brother. That's why he fought so hard to keep him the way he was, not the way he became.

I also find it interesting that, in some ways, Hank is responsible for Scott becoming a happier, more well-adjusted individual, if in the most fucked up and irresponsible and manipulative way possible. Even in the midst of their relationship being at its lowest point, Hank was inadvertently responsible for time displaced Scott joining the Champions and getting to spend time with his father, giving him precious memories of a life not lived for Xavier that he didn't have before, and it's arguable that that's part of what mellowed Scott, coming out of the Death of X/revolution era.

It's not a good thing that Hank did that, obviously, he did it because - well, because he was having a brain aneurysm called Brian Michael Bendis, but whatever, it wouldn't have happened without Hank's intervention. I don't know if it's fair to give Hank credit for this, because those are Scott's choices and Scott's relationships, but the sequence of events is such. Idk. I try to see the best in Hank's actions and make them make sense to how I see the character.

A better version of X-Force would have made Scott central to Hank's descent into darkness, because it's frankly too obvious a connection to make, but whatever, we missed that boat. I just know that, just like how Hank didn't want for Scott to hollow himself out like he did, Scott wouldn't have wanted Hank to hollow himself out like he did, either, and I'm glad to see that reflected in MacKay's X-Men #1. I hope that friendship is rebuilt, because it deserves to be.

Jean Grey

New X-Men #124, 2002.

Hank McCoy is Jean Grey's brother.

Okay, so maybe not biologically, but they are basically brother and sister. It's why the stabs at making a relationship between them have never really worked for me, and I just enjoy the friendship moments between them too much to think of them together romantically. They're both intensely empathetic, deep feeling, loving characters, and in some ways, despite Jean being a literal telepath, Hank actually gets people better than Jean does sometimes (see X-Men Annual '95) because where she can be blinded by anger and passion and justice, Hank sees people for who they are and what they want very easily.

Almost any time that Hank is feeling blue (heehee) in 90s X-Men or New X-Men, it's Jean that pulls him out of it, because she's spent the most time learning what his habits are, when he's not really feeling as all right as he promises, and I honestly don't think it's a massive coincidence that the period that adult Jean spends dead (2005-2017) is a period that Hank spends alternately depressed, irrational, or alone. Maybe that's a form of dependency? Possibly. I just think they're best friends and that they make each other better when they're around one another.

Hank believes in Jean. He walks through the snow, thinking the rest of the X-Men are dead, believing that if he can at least get Jean out, then maybe he hasn't failed. He gets yanked onto the Shi'ar flagship, hears about what Dark Phoenix did, and instantly tries to throw the book at Empress Lilandra because he believes in Jean, and he believes in justice and law and due process. He watches her manifest the Phoenix and piece Emma together with her telekinesis, yanking her consciousness into her body once more, and even though he's afraid, he sticks with her. He trusts her with his mind, giving her his anatomy knowledge so she can work informed, even as the flames of her Phoenix form lick at his arm and burn him.

Hank believes in Jean Grey.

Bobby Drake

X-Men: First Class #4, 2007.

Bobby Drake is Hank McCoy's first best friend.

There were definitely great friends beforehand (Jennifer Nyles comes to mind), but in terms of making Hank feel normal, in terms of becoming friends to have fun and just hang out and because you simply like each other's vibes and feel comfortable each other? Yeah, Bobby is absolutely Hank's first best friend.

It's probably best exemplified in New Defenders, especially #122, where Bobby just. Needs Hank. He needs his best friend. Hank always has a knack for chasing away Bobby's blues, and you see it again and again throughout that run, where Hank is just who Bobby goes to first whenever he's feeling bad (as well as in 90s X-Men), because Hank always seems to know what to say.

I also don't think it's an exaggeration to say that there must've been a lot of good feeling going on for notable stick in the mud 60s Hank and retroactively gay Bobby to go out on double dates with Vera and Zelda. Hank bought an entire cabin so that they'd have a place to go to. Can you think of anyone else that Hank's done that for? I rest my case. (Is it all a little gay? Maybe. But it's not gay if the socks stay on.)

Where this relationship falls apart is when Bobby stops growing before Hank does, and what Hank needs outpaces what Bobby can provide, as seen in Uncanny X-Men #518. It's not necessarily Bobby's fault, he's just - not a very emotionally capable person, a lot of the time, his primary character flaw is an inability to grow up, and so Hank throws something heavy at him, and his best, most immediate impulse is to just say, well, deal with it how you've always dealt with it.

And that's just not good enough. And in many ways, I think Hank just stops trusting Bobby at that point, to the extreme where Bobby calls out for every other member of the original X-Men but him at the 2023 Hellfire Gala as he dies, and I wasn't surprised one bit. They stop appearing in comics together, Hank doesn't feature in his modern solo series' at all, and their interactions are fine, but nowhere near what they were.

Warren Worthington

Uncanny X-Men #297, 1992.

Warren is the original X-Man that Hank is most like.

Which, you might think is strange, given that Warren is a rich kid with wings and Hank is a farmboy quarterback with big feet, but it's true, by virtue of three facts - one, they're the two most obvious, physically mutated members of the O5.

Two, they came to heroism on their own. Warren's turn as the Avenging Angel, and Hank's fighting against the Conquistador in his origin, both predate their time as X-Men, and this is massively important in their development because it demonstrates that altruism and self-sacrifice are intrinsic in their characters. They believe in doing good things to help people, or stopping bad people from doing bad things, because it's the right thing to do. Whereas Scott and Jean and Bobby emerged from tragedy and ruin, Hank and Warren came from a place of stability and a desire to do good.

Three, they both undergo a terrifying physical metamorphosis that causes massive changes in their personalities, Warren becoming Archangel and Hank becoming a much more literal Beast. This point of commonality is a rock for them both, and as you can see, it helps them through. They realise that for all their struggles with the other aspects of their new selves, they're still, in the ways that count, the same people - they're still the friends they always were.

It's also very significant to me that Warren is the X-Man that Hank first 'comes out' to as the Beast, in Amazing Adventures #15 (1971), and I don't think it's a real coincidence that even as Charles tries to assert that Hank's protest that he's his own man, not an X-Man, and Jean shies away in shock from the vehemence with which Hank rejects their telepathic call, Warren calls bullshit and just goes.

He asserts himself. He's independent, and he breaks from the X-Men, much like Hank and Bobby did, Hank going to the Avengers and Bobby and Warren to the Champions, then all three of them to the Defenders - even as Scott and Jean stay with the X-Men, a decision that will lead to a whole line of catastrophe that ends with Jean dead, and Scott resigned to a life left unfulfilled because his one true love is dead.

Meanwhile, Hank, Bobby and Warren are clustered in a borrowed quinjet in their best togs, going to a wedding. Warren asks why he and Bobby are going along, given they hardly know the couple. Hank replies Warren that he's family, and he wants them there, and that's that, and there's a quiet, warm little smile on his face, because he is. They are.

I also find it very interesting that Hank and Warren undergo a very similar trajectory, tracking from Utopia to the Dark Angel Saga for Warren, and All-New X-Men to Krakoa for Hank - they cloister themselves off from others, they lose sight of who they originally were, they roll around in the blood of innocents, and in the end, they both end up dying and losing their memories, born anew.

Like I said. Warren is the original X-Man that Hank is most like.

Jennifer Nyles

X-Men Unlimited vol. 2 #10, 2005.

Jen is an underrated figure in Hank's history, and that's mostly because she has very limited appearances, none of which quite make sense with one another. Her first appearance in Marvel Presents #85-92 posits that she was, in many ways, Hank's first love, the person he missed most of all those who were made to forget him, and that the absence of him in her mind compelled her to study the mind so that she might try and unlock what she knew was missing. In the end, he stays away from her, because she nearly dies and he feels he endangers her. He probably does.

Then, we have a retroactive appearance in Origins: Beast, and the above story in Unlimited. Origins: Beast doubles down on her importance, stating that she's the person who encourages Hank to come out of his shell even before he's an X-Man, to use his gifts and be the brilliant person she knows he is, and while Unlimited agrees with that importance, she knows who Hank is at a time when she shouldn't. How to square it away? Ehh. I kinda don't. I like the three stories and how they impact and change and demonstrate Hank's qualities too much to try and change them. Instead, I just enjoy them.

In another life, Hank and Jen absolutely got married and they had a brilliant history together. She's almost as smart as he is, just as fiery (she punches out a bully antagonising Hank), and she has a strong moral, empathetic core. Hank, honestly, has a type. But even more than a romantic figure, I like her as an inspirational figure for Hank, someone that pushes him in the right direction and leads him to the right answers without giving them to him. She accepts him at a time when he needed it most, and helps him rebuild his life.

Tony Stark

Amazing Adventures #14, 1972.

For a pair of geniuses that snark at each other almost non-stop whenever they're around, and who feel almost constantly at loggerheads in classic Avengers, Tony is very important to Hank's development, sometimes by virtue of his faults.

First off, he's the superhero who turns up to investigate Hank's transformation at Brand, and his apparent death there at Hank's hands (a Mastermind illusion) and his mercy and understanding of the torment that Hank is undergoing are massively formative in Hank coming to terms with his new bestial form. He teaches Hank's two lessons - one, that he needs to control himself in a way he didn't need to before, and two, that he can still rely on people to see the human in him if he acts it.

Secondly - it's his inadvertent dismissal of Hank during the Avengers' examination of Wonder Man that sparks off Hank getting annoyed about his genius being ignored, pushes him out of the Mansion in a snit . . . and that's when he discovers that he's not just adjusting to being a beast anymore. No, he's fucking hot now. Even when he's being a dick (without really meaning to), Tony helps Hank grow, helping him realise that he doesn't need to be the high performing intellectual he was on the X-Men, the Avengers have that covered, but also, that he can afford to be someone else as well.

They continue to be friends for years and years, with their friendship built up over the course of plenty of classic Avengers issues, leading to a complete bypassing of a big ol' hero vs. hero fight in X-Factor Annual #1 (1986) because Hank's just like, oh hey, Iron Man, it's me, and Tony's just like, oh hey Beast, what the fuck's all this about? And it just. Fixes the problem.

I also don't think that it's a coincidence that Hank and Tony are the two most visibly affected when the Illuminati mindwipe Steve during the Incursions arc, with Hank unable to even really look at Steve when it happens, and Hank is constantly pulling on that morality chain even as they tie each other into knots, trying to justify the destruction of worlds. For as much as they give each other shit, Hank and Tony can rely on each other to give it to 'em straight, and that's important when their heads can get as big as these guys.

Wanda Maximoff

Uncanny Avengers vol. 3 #30, 2017.

Hank should hate Wanda more than he does.

The event that Wanda caused, the Decimation, was, in a lot of people's opinions, the beginning of the end for Henry McCoy. It stripped him of his morality and his pretensions and his ability to do anything. It was the height of cruelty, and Wanda did it without arguably meaning to. Not casually, but in a moment of instability. Leaving a gaping wound in evolution that Hank tried to fix.

He threw away a lot, trying to fix it. He wrecked a lot of relationships, came away feeling dirty, consorted with demons. Became acutely aware of every one of his limitations. And yet. He never really blamed her. Because how could he?

After all, he knew Wanda before the mess. When she was a brilliant friend and teammate on the Avengers. When she was shining, glimmering proof that people could change and become better, if only they tried and were given the chance. When she was at her best. And he never stopped believing she could be that again. It certainly didn't help that they had a certain wonder man in common, but honestly, they're just great friends.

Hank supported her in Children's Crusade, even in the face of the X-Men going kill crazy, and he never held a grudge. Even when he finds her, at the end of his rope, in Endangered Species, when he's at his most fraught and defeated, he just. Wants to fix things. It would be so easy to be hateful and resentful, but he just doesn't have it in him. After all, he knows what it's like to ruin your life in an instant because of a bad decision, and to want to claw it back however you can.

Carol Danvers

Ms. Marvel vol. 2 #18, 2007.

Honestly, for someone who you often see getting blasted on the X-Men Reddit for the Superhuman Registration Act/where were you when our babies were burning panels, Carol has a lot of really strong relationships within the X-Men, but I think her bond with Hank is especially strong - which is saying something, considering their first meeting was a fight! But, honestly, they just like and respect each other. They don't tolerate injustice, they believe in being heroes for everyone, not just the few, and they support each other.

Even in the midst of Civil War II, arguably the single worst that Carol has ever been written (not counting Avengers #200, take your pick of a character assassination), there's a moment where Tony is begging Carol to rethink her Minority Report bullshit, and she says, fine, I'll consider your evidence - but only if Hank checks it. And he says he has, and it's not wrong. And she knows that that means something.

The best friends will tell you when you're wrong. And you'll listen to them.

Heather Douglas

The New Defenders #139, 1984.

Hank and Heather have an almost constantly combative relationship from the instant Moondragon joins the Defenders, with Hank never afraid to let her know that he doesn't like her and that he doesn't want her on 'his' team. In his estimation she's high, and mighty, and conceited, and possessed of more power than wisdom.

And. Guess what?

Hank's fucking wrong. Heather is trying. Yes, she backslides, she has her moments of true ego and duplicity, but it takes Hank far too long to come to realise that she's trying as hard as she is - and frankly, she's right to smack him down and humiliate him from time to time, because he can be conceited. He acts as though the Defenders are his team, and he harbours pretensions of leadership that no-one takes seriously, because Hank is not a leader, you don't even have to dislike him to know that - and it takes him a while to realise that.

Their combative relationship keeps the other in check. They grow as a result of being around one another, even if they never quite settled things between them. Hank's maturation into a grown adult, into a man able to be more than just a superhero, is in no small part thanks to Moondragon's barbs and pushes and slaps at his ego, and he should be grateful that he got the chance to make good on that chance to mature, because Heather didn't, in the end.

Alison Blaire

Marvel Heartbreakers #1, 2010.

I'm gonna be real, the Beauty and the Beast miniseries by Ann Nocenti is not great. It has moments of fun, some pathos, but for the most part, it's incredibly soapy, incredibly hackneyed, goes nowhere, has a lot of weird anti-set up, and Hank is strangely incredibly violent and cruel in it at times. For someone claiming Hank was his usual charming self, Nocenti sure wrote him as a borderline psycho.

But. The Heartbreakers epilogue for that relationship redeems it, honestly, and it gains added poignancy when a future version of Alison is killed in Battle of the Atom, in one of the few instances of that series actually managing a moment of pathos. There's no magic trick to why Hank and Alison work, they just sort of find each other hot and fun and they're there for each other in a weird, fucked up time in Alison's life, so maybe it was inevitable that it faded to nothing.

I just like to think there's always a lingering softness, a lingering what if, for the both of them. A potential of something, if not an actual something.

Vera Cantor

The New Defenders #149, 1985.

Oh, Vera . . . you deserved better.

Gonna be brutally honest, Hank treated Vera kinda like shit. I don't think he meant to, it was never a relationship he was invested in, and he said as much, he was interested in the stability it represented, but I'm genuinely sorry for Vera that she got caught up in the crossfire of it. She was dismissed and treated like a pick-up, drop-off girlfriend when she was looking for a good man - and Hank is a good man, but at this point? Not what she was looking for. Not what she needed.

I'm glad we see her again in X-Factor and she's doing well for herself. I'm fairly convinced that she's a lesbian because Hank may have ruined men for her (in the not good way), but hey, a pro-mutant activist? That's pretty worthy - and considering how Hank treated her, pretty big minded. I like to think this taught Hank to be more considerate of people's feelings and grow out of his womaniser stage.

Julio Richter

X-Factor vol. 1 #18, 1987.

For a character often defined by his teaching abilities, Hank actually wasn't a particularly great teacher or carer for children when he first started - I always think there's a good deal of significance in the fact that X-Factor #1 has him searching out a position in academia, being rejected out of prejudice, but then finding his way to a teaching position through way of X-Factor, though I doubt that was planned.

Regardless of whether or not it was planned, I do think his relationship with Julio Richter, or Rictor, is massively important to Hank's development, because everything that Hank gets wrong with Tabitha Smith, he gets right with Julio. He encourages him, gives him his clothes, never talks down to him, nurtures his potential, pushes him to learn and think for himself - and it's rewarded.

Julio imprints on Hank strongly, and you can see that he favours Hank amongst all the other X-Factor members for a reason. This relationship largely went away in future, sadly, but I always like to think that it remains in some fashion, even if only in small ways.

Trish Tilby

X-Factor vol. 1 #36, 1988.

Yeah, you knew this was coming.

Honestly . . . I can see what Hank saw in her as a human being. She's a woman of fierce convictions. She believes in truth, and honesty, and justice. She is pro-mutant, after a fashion. And I have to give her credit, she does have her moments of heroism, like in this issue, when she risks her life to help Hank save a bridge of people as Inferno kicks into high gear. There are moments of good between them.

But fuck me she's an awful human being.

Leaking the fact that the Legacy Virus has jumped to humans directly leads to a mutant hate crime that ends in a death. She barges in to a sick, dying man's hospital room in the search of a scoop. And I'm not even gonna get into what happened when Hank turned feline.

She's just a trainwreck of breaches of journalistic ethics, and I hate her to bits. If she taught Hank anything, it was that the people you admire and love can disappoint you, and it says a lot that it's a one-two punch of her, and Cassandra fucking Nova that shatters Hank's self-esteem into a million pieces. What rarified company. The very fact that she tries to get back together with Hank after this, like, what even the fuck, man.

Jubilation Lee

Uncanny X-Men #308, 1993.

These two make me smile.

I think Jubilee awakens something very simple and immature in Hank, but something healthy at the same time - she encourages him, and everyone else at the Mansion, up to and including Professor X, to have fun. At a time when they were losing people left and right, it would have been easy to lose heart, but Jubilee kept Hank and the rest of the team bolstered, kept them focused. That's no small thing, honestly. Maybe she doesn't have quite as strong a relationship with Hank as she does Logan - that's a hard bond to match - but it's hard not to look at these two and see a true blue friendship.

I also adore that it came back in full force in X-Men vol. 4 (2013), where Hank often acted as mission and home support for the all-female team of X-Men that featured in that book. Taking care of baby Shogo, helping Omega Sentinel with her physical rehab - Hank was an invaluable asset in that run, and his scenes with Jubilee were always a treat.

Dark Beast

X-Men: Endangered Species, 2007.

"For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known."

Dark Beast is such a well constructed character because he is not just Henry McCoy if Henry McCoy were evil. Dark Beast is, what if Henry McCoy were raised in an evil world that believes in evil things and the only thing to do is be evil, lest it kill you? There's such a curious drive to betterment, to becoming stronger, smarter, more, to him, that speaks to the same in Hank, but it's all just so twisted up. It's driven by fear where it's driven by hope in Hank.

Because he is afraid. And he is human, much as he might hate the label.

He's a warning. He's a check and balance. He's a cruel joke. He's a monster. He's the other side of Hank's fears. Hank fears devolution, becoming more of an animal, giving in to the Beast, but Dark Beast represents evolution, becoming less animal and more - other. Something that considers itself above human, animal, mutant. Intelligence without conscience, drive without wisdom.

He's not what all Hank McCoys inevitably become. That's stupid, and basic, and anyone who believes that is stupid and basic. That's genetic essentialism, and it's shit media literacy. It's also the basis for X-Force (2019) and I reject that hypothesis entirely.

Henry's much more interesting than evil Hank - not just because he's funnier, and better at his job, and a more efficient villain, but because try as he might, there's still something essentially human inside of him. Something stopped him from killing Hank's - his - parents.

An essential, viral, inescapable fact.

There's something good in him, just as there's something bad in Hank. And it will bedevil them both forever, because they can't get rid of it.

Cecilia Reyes

Astonishing X-Men vol. 3, 2012.

Honestly, maybe the most grown up and equal relationship that Hank ever had, and I don't really feel like he even really had the chance to have it. Cecilia is everything Trish wishes she could be, and much more besides. Uncompromising in her morals, fiercely dedicated to healing, defensive of her boundaries, strong, independent, intelligent, funny - and kind.

She held a torch for him, for a long time. There's a lot of pictures of him in her apartment, both from the 90s and his feline form. She felt for him in a way maybe he didn't realise. Maybe he's the one who got away. Maybe she is. Either way, these two just. Work. There's a world out there where they became something more, and that's a happier world for Hank, honestly. But, hey ho.

Emma Frost

New X-Men #123, 2002.

Sometimes friendships don't make sense. Other times they do.

The friendship between Hank and Emma always made sense to me. The wit, the banter, the emotional intelligence, the willingness to play to roles assigned to them by their image - they were practically destined to be friends. And yet, often forgotten. Every now and then, it crops up, and I cherish it, but for the most part, they're just irrepressibly bitchy all the way through Morrison's run, and that'll always be special to me.

I always try and see good where I can, and I wanted to post an exchange from Secret Empire Omega where Hank tries to bolster Emma in the wake of New Tian's fall, because I like the moment for them, but in the end, it's just too poor of an event and a context for me to share it. All my props to Nadia Shammas in the X-Force Annual, the one issue of X-Force I thought actually had a decent handle on a villainous Beast - by sheer virtue of actually remembering that people would care. Emma would care.

Abigail Brand

Siege vol. 2 #2, 2015.

Abigail Brand did not make Hank McCoy into a war criminal.

To say so is to betray a basic lack of understanding of this entire relationship, but then, what else is new? A lot of people seemingly don't get who Hank is and why he works. Out of universe, but also in, oddly enough.

Kate Pryde and Kurt Wagner both speculate about what made Hank into what he became in X-Force, and they think it's Abigail, because that's an easy explanation, but it's not the truth. Not remotely. It betrays that they didn't know Hank as well as they thought they did, and Hank died not being known by a lot of people.

Which . . . sucks. But it is what it is.

Abigail knew him. She knew him as a kind man. Kinder than her. Kinder than anyone. She wanted that kindness. Craved it. Needed it. Managed to jam it into her work life, by hook and by crook. But I don't think Hank minded. At that point in his life, he needed what she offered, and though I don't think either of them ever thought they'd catch real feelings, they both absolutely did.

He kept her honest, she gave him options. He gave her moral dimension, she gave him self-esteem. They complemented each other perfectly, and I'm sorry that they never got a fair chance, really.

Sure, it was all essentially motivated by a desire to get good dick, but sometimes, that's all it needs to be.

Kurt Wagner

Uncanny X-Men: The Heroic Age, 2010.

Ahhh, Kurt . . . honestly, I don't think Hank and Kurt were ever shown to be quite as close on panel as you'd think they would be, in part because there's a One Blue Limit on X-Men teams for a while (seriously, check the X-Men team line-ups, and you'll realise that Hank and Kurt are pretty much never on the same team until 2015, with Amazing X-Men, a team Hank promptly leaves at issue #5).

But I like to think they're good friends, even if Kurt does fall for Hank's facade of being okay, just like a lot of other people. I like to think that Kurt represents a kind of ideal to Hank - he's what Hank, in many ways, wishes he could be. A better man. A happier man. A more hopeful man. A man who believes in a higher power, still. I certainly don't think it's a coincidence that it cuts Hank deep, when Kurt dies at Bastion's hands.

Steve Rogers

Secret Avengers vol. 1 #21, 2012.

Hank and Steve have an odd relationship. In a way, he does a lot for Hank, bolstering him during his time in the Avengers, treating him as a valued teammate - even if, as is typical of 70s writing styles, they can both come across as cunts to one another occasionally - and one of my favourite moments for Hank is in Avengers Annual #11, where Steve calls Hank out as a man who won't kill. Doesn't have it in him.

Which makes this moment, a sequel to what Steve pushes Hank to do in Secret Avengers #16, hurt so much. Steve had to know what it would cost Hank, to shortcut his way into an Oppenheimer arc, but he hoped the math would comfort Hank. I don't think it did.

I don't know if it was intentional, but it haunts me that both Scott and Steve use Hank (Scott during Secret Invasion, and Steve in SA #16) to commit acts of mass murder, and try to console him with the numbers of people saved through atrocity. Hank tried to escape all of that, fleeing from Utopia, and maybe he was naive to think a band of Secret Avengers would be a place to hide from doing bad things, but it doesn't change the essential fact. Scott and Steve used Hank to achieve their goals, and he had to just deal with it.

"Are you seriously asking a mutant what he'll do to avoid extinction?" Mindwiping Steve in New Avengers vol. 3 hurt, I'm sure, but it's a fine old thing, trying to morally grandstand to a man you explicitly used to make a nuclear bomb. A lot of mixed up history in that room.

Broo

Wolverine & the X-Men vol. 1 #7, 2012.

If only Hank's adopted sons were given as much attention and care as Wolverine's adopted daughters. Ah well. There was a lot of work being done over this run, to make it clear that Hank, Abigail and Broo were forming a family unit, including Abigail being there as Broo's parental figure during his graduation and a possible future showing Broo as head of S.W.O.R.D, but all of it eventually came to naught, which saddens me. Broo deserved better. So did Hank.

Time Displaced Beast

X-Men: Blue #35, 2018.

There was a kernel of an idea here.

It was inevitable that Hank was going to end up hating himself. He's a character largely defined by self-hatred, in most of his forms. The thread that never got pulled was the fact that, honestly?

Older Hank should hate younger Hank just as much.

Younger Hank is much closer to the man who turns them blue, who's ego tripping at Brand, than older Hank is. That's what leads him down this entire path, of magic and demon summoning and servitude, that's broken only by the intervention of other X-Men.

But, whatever. The era of lost potential, tbh.

. . . . . . . .

Oh, hey. You're still here?

Yeah, I guess there is someone missing, huh?

Simon Williams

Uncanny Avengers vol. 3 #28, 2017.

Avengers Annual #6, 1976.

X-Force vol. 6 #49, 2024.

Avengers vol. 3 #14, 1999.

Wonder Man vol. 2 #5, 1991.

Avengers Annual vol. 2 #1, 2012.

They complete one another.

They simply are their best selves around one another.

Even when sick, and twisted, and cruel, and beyond redemption, Hank couldn't bear for the possibility of harm to an invulnerable, immortal, ionic man. He would rather dash all of his plans, make it all for nothing, kill himself, than risk hurting Simon.

At the start of this whole ass breakdown, you said, all relationships have pros and cons. And I think that's true. Mostly. But when Hank and Simon are together, nothing can tear them apart, nothing can bring them down, nothing can stop them, nothing can keep them from doing the right thing.

I can't think of a negative to them being together.

They love each other.

Thanks for bearing with me. :)

[tj-dragonblade]

[FLUFFBRUARY FIC] A Sweet Romance Beginning In a Queue

Rated: T Word Count: 4551 Tags: Fluffbruary, Fluffbruary 2024, fluff, human AU, rain, writer!Dream, professor!Hob, song-based meet-cute, clumsy metaphors

Notes: This is springboarding entirely from Bus Stop by The Hollies; shoutout to @valeriianz for suggesting this song would make a great Dreamling fic many many months ago. I thought Fluffbruary Day 3 would be a good opportunity to bang it out real quick but uh. It didn't want to flow, so I've just been rolling additional days into it all month. Also went a wee bit off-script from the song but. I'm pleased enough with what it's turned out to be. Prompts listed at the end.

Summary: Bus stop, wet day, he's there, I say, 'Please share my umbrella'

On AO3

It's the first day of the new term and the sky is overcast, threatening rain as Hob steps off the bus at his connecting stop. He's got his umbrella and his overcoat and his bag is water-resistant; his stop on the other end is very near the college and he's feeling well-prepared should the weather follow through on its threat.

Which of course it does, not half a minute later, and Hob deploys his umbrella with a sigh. There are a handful of other people waiting at the stop who do the same.

And one who does not.

He's pale and pretty, and tall, and dark—dark trousers, dark peacoat, dark hair, which is well on its way to getting thoroughly soaked as the skies open up in earnest. He appears to be lacking an umbrella entirely. Hob, who these days makes conscious effort to be a Good Samaritan whenever he can, and who also maybe thinks that attractively-pale men dressed in black who forget their umbrellas are worth at least a 'hello', moves quickly.

"Share my umbrella? Please." He's holding it over the guy as he speaks, but they'll have to squish up a bit to get maximum benefit for either of them.

"…Thank you," the guy says, shuffling closer; their shoulders touch. He is stiff, awkward, and yeah okay Hob can understand; courtesy in rainy weather or not, they're still complete strangers.

"Hell of a day to forget your umbrella, yeah?" Hob rolls his shoulders and shifts, putting himself more or less back-to-back with the guy so they fit better.

"Quite," comes the answer. His voice is low and rumbly, pleasantly dark without being bass-deep; it's oddly appealing.

Hob shrugs. "We've all been there. And hey, I'm glad to share."

"Again. Thank you." There's a touch more warmth this time, and Hob smiles to himself.

They pass a moment in silence, save for the drumming of rain against the umbrella and the splashing of cars in the street, and then the bus is pulling up to the stop. The guy steps toward it, first in line, and Hob follows with the umbrella, then lets the other three people board ahead of him.

Which means, once he's boarded and tapped in, the only open seat is serendipitously next to his slightly-soggy goth stranger. Who makes eye contact and holds it as Hob approaches, scoots just that little bit closer to the window to make clear he doesn't mind Hob taking the seat beside him, and Hob is quietly thrilled at the subtle welcome.

"Are you a conversationalist, or a ride-in-silence enthusiast?" he asks, as the bus lurches into motion.

"Ordinarily, the latter," the guy admits, glancing briefly at Hob. "But, as I stormed out with neither book nor earbuds, and I find myself with a chivalrous seat partner, perhaps I could be persuaded to the former just this once."

"Very kind, thank you," Hob says, with a smile. "'Stormed out' doesn't sound promising; feel like unburdening to a friendly ear? I'd be happy to listen, if so. Or find something else entirely to talk about if not."

His stranger turns to the window, watching the rivulets of rain trailing over the glass; there is a brief lull before he speaks. "I find myself creatively blocked, and my sister's attempts to be helpful. Were not." He sighs. "I left the house to clear my head, before saying anything truly unkind."

"Smart," Hob agrees. He could listen to this guy talk all day, his rumbly words and his dark-velvety voice.

"'Smart' would have been making certain to grab more than just my phone and wallet." There's a pretty little scowl accompanying the words, that rosy mouth plumped out in the faintest pout visible in his reflection in the window, and Hob is smitten.

"That may be, but then I'd hardly have had reason to say hello, and we'd both be sitting here reading our books politely ignoring one another. Silver lining?"

"Perhaps," the guy says, but it sounds agreeable enough. Hob likes to think he's a decent judge of unspoken communication and that he could tell if he was being a bother. Currently his stranger is glancing over Hob's bag and his attire with a curious and observant eye, posture reserved but not closed off, and Hob figures he's doing alright.

"Where are you headed, then—work?" the guy asks.

"Yeah, I teach at the college, medieval history, now and then a class in medieval lit too."

The guy's attention goes from merely polite to genuinely interested. "Oh?"

"Yep!" Hob's heart rate bumps up a notch at the light in those (gorgeous) blue eyes; the sudden intensity of this stranger's focus is heady.

He's turned in his seat, angled to somewhat face Hob, gaze bright, expression open. "I imagine that is a difficult sell to many students."

"Oh my friend, you have no idea!" Delighted with his good fortune, Hob launches into tales of his most recalcitrant classes and the victories he's won in inciting and maintaining student interest. He's good at talking, and enjoys doing it, and this pretty stranger is paying genuine attention to him, and so Hob prattles on enthusiastically as the bus trundles steadily through the rain.

~ "This is me," Hob says, as the bus pulls up to the college stop. "It was delightful chatting with you, and I hope your day improves from here!"

"It already has, thank you."

The tiny smile that the stranger offers in parting buoys Hob's spirits all the way to his office.

~ Tuesday is miserably wet again and Hob checks for his stranger at the bus stop, hopeful (yes alright, perhaps he's got a bit of a crush), but there's no sign of him. It's earlier than it was yesterday though, on account of his 8 a.m. lecture this morning, so there's no reason to think he'd be there again. Plus he'd talked about 'storming out' and 'clearing his head'; it wasn't like this stop was a daily transfer point the way it was for Hob.

Chances were good they'd never cross paths again.

~ Wednesday it's less a downpour and more a light shower, but it's still enough that an umbrella is practical.

And Hob is absolutely delighted as he steps off his first bus to see that Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Emo is there again, and again without an umbrella, hunched ineffectually into the collar of his coat and resembling nothing so much as a disgruntled wet cat. He perks up distinctly as Hob approaches with his umbrella angled forward in offering.

"You gallantly come to my rescue yet again." He tilts his head and glances up through lush black lashes, just this side of coy. "I thank you, sincerely, Mr…?"

"Hob, I'm Hob. Just Hob. You can call me Hob." Not his most suave, certainly, but this blatantly-flirtatious greeting atop his own delight has somewhat stolen his functioning brain cells.

"Hob," the guy repeats, unhurried, like he's savoring the taste of the name in his mouth, and smiles just a little bit. "You may call me Dream."

"Pleased to run into you again, Dream." Hob dimples brightly, delighted with the turn his day has taken, delighted that they've made proper introductions. "How was the head-clearing, the other day?"

"Effective." The guy—Dream—crowds close under the umbrella (Hob's largest, which he had pulled out yesterday just in case) and smooths the clinging water from his hair with one hand. His (damp) shoulder is firmly pressed against Hob's and his profile is absolutely beautiful, this close. Hob tries not to stare.

"Got your creativity flowing again, did it?"

"I managed to finish a very troublesome chapter Monday evening, yes."

Hob perks up at this new tidbit of information. "You're a writer, then?"

He gives a short nod, staring out into the rain, then glances sideways at Hob. "I have you to thank for my progress, also."

"Me?"

"The stories you shared…you inspired a direction for the scene that was plaguing me. I came out yesterday, with intent to thank you, but you were not here…?"

His voice lilts up just a touch on the end of his sentence, curiosity expressed without actually voicing the question, and Hob just smiles. "Yeah, Tuesday's my early-morning class. Sorry I missed you."

"No matter. I have now left the house three days in a row and my sister is distressingly pleased about it. She says it is good for my mental health."

"And what do you think?"

He sighs, heavily. "She is not incorrect." He glances sideways at Hob again, eyes narrowed prettily. "But I am not going to admit it to her."

Hob laughs; he can't help it. "You are so completely valid for that," he says, and when Dream smiles in return his spirits soar.

~ "Remembered your umbrella this time, I see!" Hob ignores the little pang of disappointment; just because he doesn't need to share his umbrella with Dream this time doesn't mean they can't still have a conversation.

"My sister reminded me, yes," Dream answers, and then to Hob's great surprise he lowers and closes the umbrella. "But I would prefer to share yours, if you're amenable." His eyes flick up, just a hint of hopeful uncertainty showing there.

"Of course." Hob moves close, brings his umbrella over Dream's head, heart thudding in his chest with delight. He hopes the great spreading grin on his face doesn't put Dream off; he can't quite get it under control.

If Dream notices, he gives no indication. "This routine is working well for me," he says, and it takes Hob a second to cotton on to what he means.

"What, catching the bus in the rain every morning?"

"Yes," Dream says serenely. "The company is. Refreshing." The corners of his mouth tilt up the smallest bit.

"Nicest thing anyone's ever said to me," Hob says, making a valiant effort to sound normal while something warm blooms in the vicinity of his heart. He shifts the umbrella, making sure they're both still sheltered.

"Writing flows more easily when I return home after our morning conversations," Dream says, as if this is something they've been doing for weeks instead of just days. "I shall have to credit you in my author's notes."

Hob laughs, absolutely delighted. "That is extremely flattering, my friend, but wholly unnecessary. But if I'm at all helpful? I'm glad."

One day maybe he'll ask if he can see Dream's writing, when they've been acquainted for more than a week; one day further, perhaps, he'll ask him on a date. It certainly seems he'd be amenable, but Hob knows himself and his tendency to rush in full-tilt and tells himself there's no harm in just. Seeing what happens, for a little while.

~ "Share my umbrella?"

Dream looks askance at him, hair fluttering prettily across his forehead in the breeze. "It is not raining, Hob."

"Well no, but. Bit windy, isn't it? Wouldn't want you to suffer any windburn. Umbrella makes a decent wind-break." He has oh-so-smoothly said 'wind' three times in ten seconds, and it is the flimsiest of excuses to begin with, but Dream only smiles as if he's said something profoundly wise.

"Indeed. Truly, I am fortunate to receive your continued chivalry." He crowds in close to Hob, who angles the umbrella behind them to keep the wind off, and smiles.

~ The other patrons at the bus stop are giving Hob weird looks as he opens his umbrella, but there's only one person here whose opinion matters.

Dream tilts one eyebrow up, amused. "The sun is shining today, Hob Gadling. Yet still you offer your umbrella?"

"It's tradition, at this point. And besides—got a very fair complexion, haven't you? Bit of shade will do you good."

"…As you say." His smile is radiant as the sunshine, and Hob's heart thumps happily. "Thank you."

~ It's been about a month since that first meeting when Hob leaves campus for the afternoon and finds Dream waiting at the college bus stop. The morning's rain has cleared throughout the day but now rises again as a light drizzly mist; Dream is huddled into the meager shelter offered over the bench while pulling out his umbrella. Hob hurries over with his own already deployed, playing into their established pattern.

"Fancy meeting you here?" he greets, smiling. He's delighted to run into Dream outside their developed routine, and the way that Dream kind of blooms to see him is very satisfying.

"Hob. At last," Dream smiles, ducking under Hob's broad umbrella.

"Been waiting long?"

"…Somewhat. You see. I have. A question, I would like to ask you. An important one." The gravity in his tone is clear, and Hob might be worried if it wasn't so plainly obvious that Dream was nervous. "But I do not know your schedule, beyond your morning commute, and so…"

"Have you just been hanging around half the day waiting for me to show up?" Hob is equal parts appalled and delighted.

Dream meets his eyes briefly, glance flicking away again too quickly to interpret as anything other than confirmation. "Perhaps."

Hob laughs, aware he should possibly be alarmed by what any normal person would read as stalking behavior but utterly charmed by it instead. "Your patience has its reward, then. What was it you wanted to ask me?"

"I…ah." Dream colors prettily, the faintest pink flush across his cheeks as he stumbles over actually speaking his question, and Hob is rapidly escalating from 'charmed' to 'enamoured'. "I am not. Good, at—at—"

"Obviously it was important enough to identify my most likely location and wait hours for me to show up, right?" Hob cuts in gently. "Go ahead. I promise I won't judge you." He can hear the fondness seeping into his own voice, and apparently so can Dream. He lifts wide eyes to Hob, lips pressed together resolutely, and heaves a fortifying breath out through his nose.

"I wish to ask. Would you like to have dinner sometime. Or. Or coffee, perhaps."

The bus pulls up at that exact moment, disgorging a single passenger; Hob barely hesitates before waving the driver on.

"That was our bus?" Dream states, lilting up in such a way that it's clear he means Why did we not board, why are we still standing here?

"Well, yes," Hob agrees, very aware of the size of the dopey grin on his face. "But you see, a very dear friend of mine has just asked if I might like a bite to eat with him, and I know the most amazing little spot right around the corner."

"That. That is 'yes', then? Now?" Dream seems delightedly flummoxed, and it ratchets Hob straight up to 'besotted'. How could Dream think he'd ever say anything else? Although it occurs to him belatedly Dream might have other obligations for the evening.

"Well 'now' is certainly 'sometime', yes? If you're free, that is. If you've something else you have to do—"

"No. Nothing else," Dream cuts him off, and the warm smile spreading over his face makes Hob's heart skip a beat. "There is nowhere I should like to be more, just now."

Of course not, not when he'd dedicated the bulk of his day to waiting for Hob just to ask him out. "Wonderful. Shall we?" He offers his arm, angling the umbrella to keep the misty sprinkle off them still.

Dream tucks a hand into his elbow and falls into step beside him.

~ "Wanna try mine?" Hob offers, plucking a crispy slab of cheese from his plate with a bit of everything on it and holding it out, other hand cupped underneath. They are talking over plates of halloumi fries; Hob had gone for his favorite—smothered in pomegranate molasses and za'atar yoghurt with pomegranate arils and fresh mint garnish—and Dream had taken his drizzled in honey and sprinkled with sesame seeds.

"Thank you, I am fine," Dream says, rote politeness in his voice but curiosity in his eyes, and Hob arches a brow.

"Worried you'll have to spend a month stuck with me for each pomegranate seed?"

"That would hardly dissuade me," Dream replies, with a sweet little smile that hits Hob straight in the gut. "Very well, since you offer so generously." He leans forward, grasps Hob's wrist instead of the proffered food, and bites through the warm-crusted cheese while Hob's still holding it, lips brushing Hob's fingers as he pulls back.

He chews, making a contemplative face, and gently plucks the rest of it from Hob's hand while Hob is still scrambling to reboot his poor blue-screening brain and not make a fool of himself.

"Do you know," Hob blurts, grasping for anything, "whatever Persephone might have eaten in the underworld, it would've bound her there the same? It wasn't just because it was a pomegranate?"

"I did know that, yes," Dream replies, and Hob feels the flush of having said something fairly stupid rising into his face. "The pomegranate is a tidy choice for enumerating the months she stays below, I think, with the countable seeds." He plucks one of the ruby-red arils from the cheese that Hob had given him between two delicate fingertips and places it in his mouth, eyes on Hob in a way that makes him lose his brain again.

"Yes that's. Good point," Hob tries, and thankfully Dream pops the rest of the halloumi fry into his mouth without any fanfare or continued eye contact.

"I can see why you like this," Dream says, once his mouth is empty. "It is a wonderful blend of flavors. But the honey-sesame remains my favorite." He takes a bite from his own plate, and Hob tries not to fixate on the casual way he licks the honey off his rose-petal lips.

"I wrote an alternate version of Persephone's story, once," Dream says then, eyes not exactly meeting Hob's or even on his face, darting between his shoulder and his sternum and dropping back to his plate. "I made it her choice; they met and fell in love long before the abduction, which was closer to an elopement. She ate the pomegranate seeds deliberately so as not to be taken away from the partner she had chosen. In my version, it was the pomegranate specifically that would bind her."

"That sounds brilliant," Hob says, feeling a little starry-eyed; Dream has never really talked specifics about his writing before. "I'd love to read it sometime."

"It. Was many many years ago, before I ever considered publication," Dream admits, barely glancing up at Hob, still a little skittish. "I thought it a unique idea at the time, but there are dozens of Persephone remixes to be had and I have never felt it warranted the effort of reworking it from my current skill level or attempting to publish."

"Well for what it's worth, your version is the remix I'd be most interested in reading," Hob says, utterly sincere, smiling from ear to ear. "If you ever wanted to share, that is." He bites into another halloumi fry and speaks around it. "I would never pressure you to let me read your stuff if you don't want to. But I'm always interested."

"…Thank you." Dream covers his awkwardness with another dainty bite from his own plate, a hint of pink dusting across his cheekbones. When his mouth is empty again, he offers, "Mostly I have written. Romance."

"Oh?"

"Not under my own name. But yes."

"See it's fascinating that pseudonyms are so prevalent through the ages, and for so many reasons," Hob starts, and as the conversation turns in this new direction Hob does not miss how Dream relaxes to have the focus shifted from the vulnerable personal glimpse of himself he'd offered.

And Hob maybe falls a little bit deeper.

~ It's still lightly raining three hours later; they've talked about so many things, they've had dessert and then had coffee since neither of them were ready to leave yet. It's dark by the time they finally head back to the bus stop; Dream presses up against Hob's side beneath the umbrella and Hob thrills at the warmth, the closeness, the graceful slide of Dream's hand into his and the way he doesn't let go until the bus shows up.

~ It's raining again the first time Hob kisses Dream, pulling him close beneath the umbrella outside the theater, one finger tipped beneath Dream's chin; the kiss is tentative, but Dream's mouth is warm and the way he lists gently forward has Hob coming back again, soft and sweet and smiling helplessly.

~ Three straight days of rain are clearing on the afternoon that Dream takes Hob to the bookstore and leads him to the romance section, points him to a shelf in the 'M's where there are a dozen or so titles by Morpheus, mononymous. Hob doesn't make the connection for a second, and then he does.

"Is this you?" he asks, reaching for one of the hardbacks, and sure enough there's Dream's photo inside the dust jacket, solemn and styled and somehow less authentic than the Dream standing nervously next to him.

"Yes," Dream confirms, and soft warmth floods Hob's chest. Dream has been very reserved about his writing—"It is one thing to publish for strangers, but I find it…much more difficult to share, when it is someone whose opinon matters to me personally," he'd said once, and being trusted, opened up to like this—Hob is not oblivious to the privilege of it.

"You've certainly written a lot," he says, warmth and fondness curling in his chest. "And you're okay with me reading any of these?"

"Yes; however—" he reaches into the messenger bag slung over his hip, withdraws a large clear envelope with what looks like a manuscript inside. "If you wish to read my writing, I would have you begin with this." He hands it to Hob.

Hades and Persephone: The Morpheus Remix the paper proclaims through the plastic, and Hob looks up at Dream, delighted. "Is this—?"

"It needs a proper title." Dream shrugs, hunches into his coat a little bit. "I would like—perhaps you might help me come up with one, as it was you who inspired me to revisit and update it."

Hob cannot for the life of him stop the broad smile that overtakes his face, is not even trying. "I would be honored."

~ It is raining buckets the night that Dream comes home with Hob, and even the umbrella is not enough to prevent their getting a bit wet. But that's alright, Hob thinks, with Dream's eager mouth warm and hungry on his as they move in the direction of his bedroom, it's not like their clothes were staying on anyway.

He lays Dream gently in his bed, covers him with his own body, makes love to him with slow and ardent urgency while the rain lashes against his window. Later, after, when the winds have calmed and thunder rumbles soothingly in the distance, he holds Dream curled against him, asleep, and he thinks. He thinks about umbrellas, and shielding, and guardedness, and how Dream has slowly gifted so many of his vulnerabilities to Hob; he thinks about the duality of potential in that realization, the power it gives him to either harm or protect, and vows to himself that he will always be Dream's metaphorical umbrella when it's within his capabilities.

~ It's sprinkling just a little when Hob realizes that he's going to marry Dream.

It's early Autumn and they're at the park; Dream is under his own umbrella (look, sometimes sharing just isn't practical, as much as Hob still loves faithfully carrying on their schtick), scattering peas and grapes for the ducks and Hob is hanging back, watching him with an aching fondness in his heart.

Dream is beautiful, and thoughtful, and engaging. He is guarded and private, but so warm and emotional and giving once he has let you in. He is smart, and witty, with the driest sense of humor and the most endearingly terrible laugh and Hob has fallen desperately in love with him along the way.

He watches as a particularly bold duck comes close and snaps up the pea that had fallen directly at the toe of Dream's boot; watches the soft delight that steals over Dream's face, and he knows.

~ It is the following Spring before he asks. They are at the bus stop where they first met and it's a bright sunny day; Hob's got the umbrella up and they're shoulder-to-shoulder beneath it. Dream is animated, excited, talking about his editor's latest feedback on his Persephone remix (The Seeds of Fate, they had decided to call it), and Hob is listening, very much interested but so so nervous. The little velvet box on his pocket is weighty, not physically of course but he can't stop touching it, hoping Dream will say yes, believing Dream will say yes.

At last, Dream turns to him, a little wrinkle of concern between his brows. "You feel…distracted; is everything alright?"

Hob smiles at him, entirely and wholeheartedly in love. He hooks the hand holding the umbrella with Dream's so their fingers are tangled together around it; he leans his forehead against Dream's, closes his eyes. "I have a question, I'd like to ask you. An important one." It's a deliberate echo of how Dream had asked him out more than a year ago; Hob can picture the way Dream smiles to recognize it, can feel one eyebrow lifting against his own.

He takes a deep breath, pulls the little box from his pocket and clicks the lid open. "Will you marry me?"

It's a quiet request, pitched low so the other couple people at the bus stop don't overhear, so that if Dream does wish to say no, he won't be under the public pressure of strangers to say yes for appearances' sake. Not that Hob expects him to say no.

He hopes he doesn't say no.

Dream pulls back and Hob opens his eyes, meeting the surprise and delight and disbelief in Dream's. Dream looks down at the ring in the open box in Hob's hand, touches a fingertip to the velvet-covered lid delicately, looks back up at Hob with joy blossoming in his face.

"Do you mean it? Truly?"

Hob swallows down the nervous lump in his throat, squeezes gently where his hand is tangled with Dream's around the handle of the umbrella. "More than anything," he murmurs, entranced by the gathering shine of happy tears in Dream's eyes. "Marry me. Please."

Dream makes a joyful little noise, wrenches his hand free and throws both arms around Hob's neck, kissing him soundly. Hob manages to snap the ring box closed and swing the umbrella low, wraps both arms around Dream's waist and kisses him back.

"Yes," Dream breathes wetly when they part a moment later. "Yes, of course yes, a thousand times, yes."

~ They marry in the park in August, the clouds high and the breeze warm. Hob puts up the umbrella when they reach the crux of the ceremony; he holds its history over them while they say their vows, while they slip rings on one another's fingers, and then they seal their marriage with a tender heartfelt kiss beneath its promise of care and protection.

= Started: 2/3/24 Drafted: 2/24/24 Posted: 2/25/24

Fluffbruary 2024 Prompts Day 3: umbrella seashore mist Day 4: camera lush beau Day 5: rescue inertia lullaby Day 6: tie embarrassment* dessert Day 7: potatoes blue glass Day 8: shower blessed layer Day 9: urgency kneel rural Day 10: flush angel owl Day 11: reflection water apology Day 12: graceful volcano blanket Day 18: suave cologne gradual* Day 19: teacakes flood feature Day 20: smooth glitters queen Day 23: rhythm chalk humor Day 24: spring fuzzy silky

*The word did not get used but the concept is very much in there

✨✨✨ Sequel: Love Rain Down On Me ✨✨✨

[maliciousblog]

Professor (Namjoon)

The alarm rang disturbing your peaceful sleep you didn't want to get up because the air was cool and your blanket was a perfect snug contrast it was like the bed was holding onto you refusing to let go.

You eventually managed to tear yourself off the bed and get ready to go to school.

On your walk there you met your friend Yedam who happily accompanied you to your class.

Dropping you off by the entrance while he left for his.

Only to notice the class was already relatively filled.

So you tried to slip in without catching too much attention when you heard a voice boom through the lecture hall causing everyone to stay still.

It was a voice you were all too familiar with.

A voice you were scared off, well not just you but everyone in class.

He told you to sit in the front row and you obliged.

Setting your things down as he started his lesson.

The hall was completely silent with the exception of his voice which had everyone in a trance.

No one could deny his skill as a teacher he could explain the most complex concepts in a way both a 15 year old and a 50 year could comprehend while commanding their undivided attention and for this reason the whole class respected him.

His big stature was indeed intimidating but he was social enough for everyone to like him but not enough for everyone to know him.

The lesson went on for another hour or so when he was done he asked everyone to hand in their assignments and wished everyone a happy weekend.

As the students shuffled outside the class he began arranging them papers in a neat stack which kept on growing he asked you to lend a hand since you were seated on the first desk and you agreed.

He divided the papers and handed you the smaller stack as he lead the way to his office.

His office was on the other side of the building and you had a free period so you didn't have anything better to do anyways.

So you just walked along with him making small talk.

As he watched you walk by his side he couldn't help but think about what he saw this morning a random man walking with you a little too close for comfort.

It should have been him. He should only be him. He deserves you. In his mind you were already his the very first time he saw you.

You were at his favorite bookstore running your fingers across the spines of paperbacks hoping to find one that caught your eye.

He stood there for a good 5 minutes debating whether to help you out or not. But the store clerk beat him to it as he felt a tinge of sadness strike him. It should have been him. It should have been him who helped you just like it should have been him who walked by your side.

Before he knew it you had left.

He spent the next couple of days doing his work but images of you randomly came into his head disturbing his peace.

If only you knew how absolutely delighted he was when he found out that you had been assigned to his class.

He was filled with glee like a child in a candy shop. If only you knew. But he was too smart too smart for anyone to ever have a hint of suspicion about his odd behavior.

When he wanted something he had to have it.

Whether it be the 1st rank in class or the penthouse in the tallest apartment. If he wanted something he would chase it to the ends of the world and you were no exception.

He was growing impatient with each passing day driving him insane and today he finally snapped.

Today was the day he would finally have you.

Upon reaching his office he opened the door gesturing for you to get in as he instructed you to put the papers on the desk he followed you locking the door behind him.

You placed them down and watched him put his stack down and take off his coat which he placed on the stand.

You thought you were sly sneaking in a quick glance at his muscular body which was not well hidden under his well fit shirt.

He noticed but let it slide as it fed his ego.

As you were about to leave he asked you if you could help him grade papers for a year below you in exchange he would offer you extra credit.

So you agreed at sat down next to the chair next to him as he grabbed the papers from the cupboard he noticed you were seated a little farther away so he simply placed a hand on one of the legs of the stool and pulled you towards him as it were nothing.

He then nonchalantly went on with his work as he handed you a copy of the answer key for the test.

Both of you got to work for about an hour and had finished grading 2 out of 3 sets when you went to ask for the key for the third set both of you faced each other at the same time your faces only inches apart from each other.

Making your face heat up in embarrassment.

To your dismay the only noticable look on his face was a look of slight confusion as you started to stutter while you asked for the answer key as he swiftly placed it infront of you.

"Geez relax its not like I'm going to eat you up. Well unless you want me to".

He said leaving you tounge tied as his his laughter filled the room cutting the tension in the air.

He was so intimidating you couldn't look him in the eye.

"Look at me when I'm talking to you "

He said as he placed a finger under your chin lifting it up forcing you to make eye contact as he gently moved forward placing his lips on yours kissing you gently.

Before you knew it his hands were moving across your body as yours were intertwined in his hair moving in closer to deepen the kiss.

In one swift motion he picked you up and placed you on the table taking of your skirt and ripping off your panties.

" Hey those were from La Perla" you whined.

" I'll buy you the whole store princess".

He said as he got down on his knees gently opening your legs as he snaked his tounge between them.

Gently causing you to moan out in pleasure as he skillfully moved making you loose your focus.

gripping on to his hair trying to get more friction but he held you in place sinfully torturing you by denying you release.

When you felt like you were about to reach your high he stopped and proceed to place kisses on your things.

He kept on doing this until tears started to run down your face as it almost hurt to hold it in.

You were a whimpering mess for him at the moment you would do anything for him if he asked you to.

And he knew that very well he just found some sick sadistic pleasure seeing you in this state desperate and pathetic, completely dependent on him just like how he liked it.

He decided to end teasing you as he had a lot of time left to do that.

And at this point his pants had gotten painfully tight.

So he decided to stand up and free his member positioning it in front of your aching one.

As he began to slowly let himself in you.

He didn't want to hurt you just yet. He would save that for when you misbehave.

He slowly began to thrust in you as your nails dug into his back.

His eyes met with yours which were pleading with him because you could no longer form coherent words.

You couldn't taking being edged any longer your vision had started to cloud and you felt like you would pass out at any given moment.

So he decided to pick up the pace going harder on you until you came all over him.

You collapsed into his arm your body going limp still buzzed with your high as your stare at him with a lovesick gaze.

He knew at that moment that you were his. Now no one could take you away from him.

[justyoursimpleflower]

Pumpkin's Father And Your Lover

Pairing :- Sirius Black x reader

Word count:- 2.7k

Summary:- Sirius and you find a kitten, apparently she is a matchmaker

Warnings:- swearing, some sexual tension, i think that's all?? Tell me if you find more

A/N:- Hello everyone! Yes, I have started writing again after one and half years and you can guess i am really rusty so be kind please. Also, I am opening my requests, if you want to, drop in some, characters can be either marauders, except peter, billy Russo, tasm!Peter Parker or aleksander morozova. Thank you! Likes, comments and reblogs are deeply appreciated!

The Great Hall echoed the chatters of students from all the houses. Some hushed whispers and some loud laughs, some bright smiling faces and some silent tear stained faces.

Your body shook with giggles induced by a certain sarcastic prefect from Gryffindor, you were met with a nudge on the knee from the victim of the remark who was pretending to give you a glare.

You just grinned at him and got one in the reply.

You still didn't believe how the cliché meeting with the raven haired boy had turned into this, this beautiful friendship.

When in your fifth year you met this gorgeous owner of the gorgeous eyes, you never would have guessed where it'd take you.

"Mr.Black that's enough!"

"But it wasn't me, professor! I swear it wasn't me this time!"

You had to bite your lip to stop yourself from bursting into a fit of giggles. Your benchmate, or to be precise, Remus Lupin, the embodiment of a disciplined, sweet, honest guy had been flying paper planes from the last ten minutes of the transfiguration class, making them land beside the professor's desk.

Oh and if that wasn't enough, they were charmed as when they landed, the paper shredded into fragments while in the voice of the victim, Sirius Black, a very bad redemption of ' D'yer Mak'er ' would sound out in the class.

Somehow, one day Remus Lupin sat next to you, a trade of your giggles and his witty remarks was made and now both of you were benchmates.

"Well then who was it?" Mcgonagall asked.

"I don't know, professor! Obviously someone who hates you! And you know that can't be me, I love you with my whole heart!" You snorted behind your hand at his imitation of puppy dog eyes. He was definitely good at it.

"One more time Mr.Black, and you would be serving a week's detention."

"But professor —"

"Enough!"

"Everyone back to work!" And with that, the students went back to work while you were still giggling with the sandy haired boy next to you.

"I can't believe you are so cruel to him, he is your friend!" You asked in fake shock and a grin on your face.

"Well that's what he gets for stealing my chocolates." The boy snorted.

"I knew it!"You both were startled by the sudden voice from behind you.

Sirius was standing behind you both glaring at you two.

"Mr.Black, why are you shouting in the class?" Professor asked furiously.

"Professor, it was Remus who was doing it all! I just heard him saying that!"

Remus and you both turned back towards the professor, with guilty looks on your face and accepting the accusations.

Mcgonagall looked disappointed but just shook her head.

"Mr.Lupin, I would expect better from you, but that would be wrong since you are part of this baboon group."

"Professor!" Four different voices shouted at the same time.

"Professor, we are 'The Marauders'." Peter said, puffing out his chest, followed by the other three.

Mcgonagall just shook her head and said,

"Alright, Mr.Lupin, shift back to your place with Ms.Evans and Mr.Black you take Mr.Lupin's previous place."

"But—but why?" Sirius shouted, his eyes wide.

"Well because I said so." Mcgonagall set him with a look that said no more arguments.

He sighed then said,

"But no detention for these two." You stared at him wide eyed.

Arsehole.

"Considering their previous records, no."

You smirked looked back at him with a look that said,

'suck it'

That was your first interaction with him and many more after that which lead you two here right now, near the lake sitting under a tree. Well you were sitting and he was lying next to you.

"Do you think the merpeople in the lake would be offended if we gave them fish food? Or if we give them our food."

"What I think is that Sirius, why are you thinking that, of all the things you can think of you thought to think about that thing."

"You hurt my brain."

"Surprised you have one."

He glared at you while you just grinned at him.

He closed his eyes and you were suddenly hit by the realisation how beautiful the boy next to you was.

It would be so easy to fall in love with him. Sirius was, if not the most, one of the most beautiful guys you have met.He was charming, he was beautiful and most of all, he was caring, in his own way. You were jealous of the girls who could touch him in a way that you could never, girls who had the opportunity to look in those eyes and get lost in the cosmos held behind them, girls who could hear his raspy voice, the breathy whispers that escaped him the haze of pleasure.

You closed your eyes and tried to shake off the image in your head. Your palms were suddenly getting sweaty and you felt suffocated.

A small mewl sounded near you. Shaking you out of the daze he put you in, and hadn't even done anything yet. Sirius sat up and looked around, like you, to find the source of voice.

Looking around, your eyes found a pair of big brown eyes staring at you and mewling. Standing up, cautiously you made your way towards the feline and bent to scoop her in your arms. The little kitten was calm, nuzzled her head in your arms making you coo at her.

Sirius, surprised by the sudden change in your demeanour, stood up and made his way towards you, kneeling beside looking at the small animal in your arms.

The ginger white fur poked out of you embrace and a soft expression masked your features as you gently caressed the fur.

He was jealous. He was jealous of the feline and how it had taken her so little time to take you away from him. But at the same time he was thankful. He was thankful because sitting there, kneeling beside you he could see the sunlight reflecting from your hair, the soft tug upwards of your lips, the pretty smile he longed to watch at every waking moment, the soft gentle eyes he would love to get lost in and never to find a way out of. It was maddening how much he adored you. He adored you more than he could feel, you made his heart feel full, and yet always light like it was filled with nothing but love for you. You made him feel drunk on the oldest wine, always in that daze, but he had never tasted one.

It would be so easy right now. So easy to learn forward and brush his lips to your cheek, so easy to tangle his fingers in your hair, so easy just to close his eyes and get lost in the dream in which you were his.

He snapped out his daze when you called his name.

"Siri, look, she's so cute, isn't she?" A soft smile plastered on your face, you looked at him and he wished that you would always look at him like that. He raised his hand to brush it against the fur of the kitten, who raised her head from your arms and nuzzled it around his fingers.

Choked on emotions a raspy hum sounded out of him.

The kitten now had her whole attention on him. Before either of you could comprehend what was happening, she jumped out of your arms, towards him.

Acting on instinct, Sirius caught her mid air and brought her to his chest while both of you stared at her, wide eyed and with wild expression, she just mewled and snuggled close to him.

"Merlin, she nearly gave me a heart attack." Sirius breathed out.

Now that you were out of shock of the stunt the little creature pulled, you watched as Sirius pulled her closer to his chest and how he ran his fingers to her fur.

"Aw, look at that. The bad boy, player Sirius Black turning soft for a small kitten." You cooed, pinching his cheek.

A warmth spread over Sirius at your gesture but quickly recovered and countered back,

"I am not getting soft."

"You are."

"Not."

"Are."

"Not."

"Are."

"Not."

"Are."

"Not."

"Not."

"Are."

"Ha! Gotcha ya."

He scowled but you saw a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes.

"Very mature darling, very mature."

"Learnt from you, darling boy."

Sirius was sure if you called him that one more time he was going to combust. He swallowed the lump of emotions and took a shaky breath, calming himself down.

Merlin, what have you done to him.

"Oh, is that so?" He raised a brow at you, a smirk adorning his face now. There he was. The cocky Sirius Black you knew. And you also knew nothing good came out when his voice changed to that tone.

He slowly set down the kitten from his arms to the ground beside him, who quietly obeyed and sat there without much fuss and meowed at him.

"You want to take it back, love?"

Fuck. Why is that so hot?

"What do you mean, Siri?"

Oh he is dead. But so are you.

And then, hell broke loose. His fingers worked around your ribs, making you giggle uncontrollably. He kept working his fingers around you and then one moment he was sitting beside you, the other, you were splayed over the grass and his body hovering over yours with his hands now splayed along your sides.

As your giggles died, you opened your eyes only to be met with silver ones, staring back at you. Your breath hitched and maybe his did too. The intensity by which his eyes bore into your, taking in all your features at once. His eyes stopped at one point and you knew what was going through his mind.

If you just leaned enough…

You both broke out of trance when a mewl from beside you erupted making you both look at the feline who probably didn't like the lack of attention. It made you both giggle but something changed in the air, and you both knew it.

"I can't believe you are taking her as a pet."

"Well believe it, because I am." You countered back.

A tsk sound from your left and you looked at the bespectacled boy next to you and frowned.

"What?" You asked, irritation evident in your voice.

"You are hurting our dear Sirius." James said, shaking his head in mock disappointment. You raised your brow in question

"You are breaking his heart." Remus joined in.

"You should know better." Peter contributed.

"What is that supposed to mean?" You asked Remus, only acceptable one to give the answer.

"A cat for a dog, really?"

That made all the occupants of the group laugh out loud. Your voices echoing over the great hall, making everyone dining in, give you an odd look.

"Shut it, Lupin." The victim grumbled from your other side.

"Aw, don't be mad Siri, Pumpkin loves you." You cooed, pinching his cheek.

You could feel the heat rise on his cheek but chose to not comment on it.

"Pumpkin? Really? That's the best you could come up with?"

"Well, then you should have suggested me names, when I asked you."

Before the argument could get more heated, Lily butted in and asked a real question.

"How did you get the permission to keep her?"

You shrugged your shoulders and looked at Sirius's side.

"He asked for permission, ask him."

Sirius looked a bit hesitant and then said,

"I…have my ways."

Unbeknownst to you the other three marauders shooted smirks towards him which he countered by a subtle gesture.

"You went through all that, just for a cat."

"Not for a cat, wormtail, for the love of his life." James replied back in a sing-song voice earning a smack on his head by the raven haired boy.

In the secrecy of the dorm now, Sirius told the marauders about how he got the permission to keep the cat.

"You went to Minnie, begged on knees to her, then to Dumbledore and did the same for that cat. Wow, Padfoot you must really love that cat." Remus teased the boy earning a kick on his shin.

Sirius grumbled something under his breath, making all the marauders give him a questioning look. When he noticed, a blush crept up his neck and he repeated his words, much more coherently.

"Not a cat, 's Pumpkin."

A loud laughter echoed from the boys dormitory.

Whilst downstairs, Pumpkin was getting restless and was trying to scratch every object in sight.

"Oh my, what are you doing?" You exclaimed taking her away from the table which had a scratch mark on one of its legs.

You were getting irritated by her behaviour and were about to ask Lily what to do when the feline ran out your arms towards the boys dormitory stairs.

Wide eyed you quickly ran, following her.

In the seventh year boys dormitory, a panicked Peter was looking at James being pinned down by a furious Sirius, sitting next to an amused Remus. All that brawl being started by a simple comment such as

"You are worse than me with Lily." By the pinned down boy.

That was the scene you walked in on. Pumpkin supposedly wanted to see Sirius and somehow knew where to go, leading you to walk in that scene.

"What the hell?" Your surprised words apparently broke them out of trance, making them look at you.

You scooped Pumpkin in your arms, who was still restless, and looked at all of them, James and Sirius now returning to sit on the floor.

"Why was James being pinned down by you, Sirius? Am I missing something?" You asked, looking wide eyed at them.

It was James who spoke, panic evident in his eyes,

"What — no—what are you saying— no, shit, I was just teasing him about his feeling for you—"

Everyone fell silent after that except your kitten. Everyone stared wide-eyed at James, while some had amusement in their eyes (Remus, Peter) some had horror (Sirius, You).

Oh. Oh.

You knew that feelings were mutual. You just wanted confirmation. You knew he would never say anything, you knew because of his past, he was scared, he had told you, had broken in your arms. So you will have to, no matter how much it scares you.

Moving towards where he was sitting, you kneeled in front of him, Pumpkin slipping out your arms towards his lap.

From the corner of your eye, you saw the other leave the room.

He was not looking at you, but his fingers had absent mindedly started running through the kitten's fur.

It was now or never.

Gathering all you courage, you asked,

"Is it—was it true—what James said?" He was still not looking at you, but you could see his shoulder tensing and for a moment you were scared. You were scared that maybe you were wrong. But then he nodded his head. It was barely a movement but it was.

Relief flooded through you and you took a shaky breath. Oh how many times had you dreamed about this moment. Your happiness was unexplainable at that moment. It was much more thrilling to know that he felt the same rather than an instinct.

You lifted your hand, touching his cheek, making him look at you.

"Then, Mr.Black, would you do me an honour of sharing custody of Pumpkin with me? Would you do me an honour of being Pumpkin's father?"

You saw the flicker of emotion in his eyes and the way they lit up at your words. Setting Pumpkin at side, he took your face in his hands and kissed you. And it was nowhere near your imagination, it felt well beyond and you couldn't be more happy.

You both didn't stop until a mewl sounded from beside you, making you both huff out a laugh when the small feline crawled between you two.

You looked up at Sirius who just smile and said,

"I would love to be Pumpkin's father and your lover."

[alex31624]

Those were really good Football team headcanons 👏 I think each one you mentioned fit great with that sports team.

Could you please share more headcanons about the other characters’ fav teams 👀?

Oh, I love this.

Ok, I think not all the characters would be a football fans. So, if is not in this list, they don't support any team, or don't care about the sport.

Webby - Liverpool

It was hard for Webby, her grandma is an Aston Villa fan, her hero is a Celtic fan. Which team should she support?

What moves Webby is love, dedication, passion. And it was the passion the Liverpool fans show what make her a fan herself.

It was a secret, until she found out Donald is also a Liverpool fan. Just another thing to bond about for them.

Huey - All of them

Huey loves his family and friends, so he can't take sides. He supports all the teams, depending on the circumstances.

Dewey - Manchester United

The second Dewey found out that Della was a Manchester fan, he took her side. You know that's a Dewey thing.

Sadly, he forgot that Manchester was on downhill since 2014. He has to watch the Europa League and begs that next year will be better.

Louie - Liverpool

All the triplets were Liverpool fans thanks to Donald. When their circle grew, Huey decided that he wanted to support all the teams, Dewey took Della's side, but Louie stay by his uncle side. Donald made him a Liverpool fan, he will stay a Liverpool fan.

A bit bias for Donald and Louis relationship? Yes. Always.

May & June - Liverpool

Just like their brother, the twins wanted to follow their dad. Easy.

Violet - Internazionale

Violet was never that interested in football. She knew the basics, the big tournaments and big teams. But then, she got a sister.

An italian sister.

An AC Milan fan sister.

And Violet knew what she had to do, and became an Inter fan. Just to get under Lena's skin. That's such a sisterhood thing to do.

Gosalyn - Borussia Dortmund

One more that has her focus on passion. Gosalyn in 2017 is a latina, but her last name has a bit of german flavour. That's where she found her team, a team who's rebel and loyal.

Perfect for Gos.

The last game of the 2022-2023 season broke her heart.

B.O.Y.D. - Real Madrid

Sweet baby B.O.Y.D. has a whole world to discover. He spends most of his time with the rest of the Team Science, so he listens to Fenton's stories about a team that can make miracles happen, a team that doesn't know how to give up, and their victories can only be described as epic.

Yes, Fenton's influence turned B.O.Y.D. in a Real Madrid fan.

Real Madrid bias? Of course.

José - Flamengo

I asked an expert, @fantasticenthusiasttale, for this one.

She told me that José Carioca lives in a neighborhood in the city of Rio de Janeiro called Vila Xurupita, which has its own soccer team, Xurupita FC. He even played for them.

But, her headcanon is that José is a Flamengo fan. And who I am to disagree?

Panchito - Necaxa

To tell the truth, I know nothing about Mexico football. I stared at Panchito and said, this is the face of a Necaxa fan.

So there you have it.

Gladstone - Manchester City

The notorious freeloader Gladstone Gander of course is a Manchester City fan.

He knows nothing about the team's history, but when he found out the team has a almost bottomless wallet, he became a fan.

Matilda - Rangers

Like Violet, Matilda began supporting Rangers only to get under Scrooge's skin.

With the time, she actually became a passionate fan who enjoyed going to the games. She and Scrooge have been in many Old Firm (Rangers vs Celtic) games.

When the team was sended to the 4th division, she went to every game until Rangers returned to the Scottish Premiership.

Ludwig Von Drake - Rapid Wien

In his youth, professor Von Drake enjoyed seeing the football Rapid Wien showed. A team for the working class, who fights day by day.

Von Drake was happy to see that Rapid still was the most successful team of the country.

But professor didn't see with good eyes the grow of Red Bull Salzburg. A team born of a corporation, who denies its own history.

Von Drake awaits for the resurgence of Rapid.

Mark Beaks - Inter Miami

When Messi signed with Inter Miami, Mark Beaks flew to the city because he knew that was buzz worthy.

That's the only reason he has to go to the games.

This was so much fun. Thanks for the ask @ducktales-and-ducks, sorry I couldn't finish this one earlier.

[darling-i-read-it]

if you’re still writing for GTA V could i request something where Trevor is dating a girl that’s younger than him/age gap and is in college, total opposite of him. but he is IN LOVE and he absolutely needs to just marry her, tie her down, etc.

i need you to know that age gap in college total opposite is me so this request made me very <3 it made me <3 trevor i love you.

i hope you enjoy!

Smarts? A schedule? A home that isn't a trailer? Someone who kind of knows what they're doing?

Trevor had never known these things before

You and Trevor met when he was in your college town for a job. He was being shitty about it, lingering around the college bars. He had to wear some snazzy outfit in order to fit undercover and he met you.

He was smitten. You were drinking something strong and he asked you to a drinking game. You were kind of drunk and he looked a little better hazy but you were more than happy to comply to a game.

You sweeped the floor with him.

He had never fallen in love so quickly

You both fell asleep on a bench outside. It was freezing when you woke up in the morning. You had lost your jacket. Trevor offered you his. After confirming the two of you didn't sleep together, the relationship was off.

All of your friends thought you were insane!

They met Trevor in passing (he was usually around, in your dorm even though he wasn't supposed to) (commuting with you even though he had no where to go) (always in college bars, bragging about his girlfriends grades)

"He's kind of old?" a friend noted. You were sitting with your computer out, typing furiously. You really had to finish this essay.

"He's got experience."

"He's bald?"

"Not quite."

"Doesn't he live in a trailer?" You peeked over your computer.

"He can budget. Also, the trailer is fun. When I've cleaned it."

"You're like a maid?" You scoffed.

"Trust me, I'm not a maid. We do lots of things other than cleaning."

the insinuation was fucking but you actually did a lot of things. His whole life of crime thing tended to bleed over to you when you came over. He often had a lot of money though which was a win. Tuition was expensive!

Your friends thought he was a sugar daddy. You didn't deny it?

Trevor liked spending all his time with you. He had never known something so special. He had never loved someone so much.

Obviously his next inclination was to tie you down! He wanted marriage! He wanted a honeymoon!

You were still in college, gathering your own personhood. Marriage is not something that was technically on your radar.

Trevor and you spent some time in a hotel (his treat) so you didn't have to hear your roommate complain. You had your head on his lap, looking eagerly at your computer. Homework. So much homework.

He brushed his hand through your hair.

"What are you writing about now?"

"Climate change."

"Is it changing? It was really hot outside today." You snorted, shaking your head. You shut your computer. You could finish it later.

"Just a bit. How is that thing we did last weekend?"

"Oh the Millers score? It's great. We can buy a house."

"But you're buying another hanger?"

"I like planes." You looked up at him, arching your back to do so.

"A house though...so much square feet. So many places to sit. And do other things."

It was defiantly a weird place to be at the college age. He could kill someone for you (he would. he has.) and he also had no idea what you were doing academically. You complained about shitty professors and he almost killed one of them (you explained that would be proactive)

He told everyone ever about you. He bragged about you to strangers. He told Ron. He told Michael.

No one believed him. Like literally...no one

Ron only believed him when he ran into you at the trailer once over a break

You were so kind (and younger and good looking and smart?). Ron didn't really understand the whole thing but when Trevor kissed you you looked so happy.

It may have been a random relationship but it worked so well for the two of you. Yes, it was kind of weird because you were constantly doing homework. He was in crime and made meth! Sometimes opposites attract.

"Are you going out out tonight?" Trevor asked, sitting in your dorms fire escape. Quick exit if he needed it.

"I have one of my 300 classes to study for."

"You should drop out."

"You paid my tuition for this quarter."

"And I am telling you to drop out." You rolled your eyes, looking at him through your lashes. He waited, eagerly. He was wearing some clothes you had gone out and bought together. If you could just convince him to change that haircut. "We should get matching tattoos."

"Trev."

"A heart with an arrow."

"Trev," you said, laughing gently. "I'm busy. Don't you have people to scam?" He took a step in through the window. He gestured outside into the night.

"I have the helicopter on the roof. I could teach you."

"Oh God, do you remember the last time you tired? I'm like..horrendously bad at helicoptering." You could fly the crop duster! But the helicopter had too many things to focus on.

"We can go to Paris." You shut your computer.

"You are gonna make me fail." He hit the window sill.

"I'll pay the tuition for next quarter too."