#I couldn’t manage to convey the feeling I wanted.

[finderseeker]

Here’s that thing I spontaneously started writing for some reason. I go where my whims and capricious focus take me. I got sick of editing and rereading so I’m just posting it. This is set in the DDAU. It’s not long after things got worked out between the two sets of Dingsasters. Maybe a couple months. Windy is struggling.

Edit: changed it so the signed dialogue is no longer in italics sincee it’s the primary language.

————

“You know, in my world, you are a bartender as well.”

Grillby eyed the human man sitting as his bar. He was flushed, a sure sign that he was officially buzzed. Grillby knew this instantly, despite the man never having drank here before. After all, Gaster— his Gaster— was the same way: his face flushed when he drank. Of course this man was the same; The two were the same person, after all.

That was what Gaster— Wingdings— said, anyway. And, truth be told, Grillby could see it. This human had the same mannerisms, the same gestures, the same posture, the same expressions, the same name signs. If that alone weren’t enough, there was another monster with a human counterpart: Asteri. He hadn’t know the woman well, really, before all this. If he had stopped to think, perhaps he might have recalled seeing her as a little girl with her parents, half a century ago, but the family didn’t visit Snowdin often, and visited his restaurant even less. Besides, shapeshifters were easy to mistake.

The main reason he could use her and her human counterpart as evidence that this whole “alternate universe” business was real was that he had re-met her, now as an adult studying dog language in Snowdin, right around the same time that his best friend of over 400 years nervously introduced him to a human he was sheltering, who had the same name. Not only the same name, but the same voice, the same hair, the same style of dress, the same mannerisms, and the same alcohol preferences. The reasonable conclusion was that it was simply a particularly strange coincidence, but no, things with Gaster were never that simple these days. Of course it was something absurd like an alternate universe. The skeleton had always been a little too trusting— even of humans, even after everything— so Grillby initially took the story with a grain of salt. But as time went on, and Gaster spent more time with her, apparently details that reinforced the factuality of it came to light.

Not that Grillby saw either of them often. That was simply the nature of his friendship with Gaster, after so many years: long stretches of silence, occasional visits that picked up as if no time had passed, and, every once in a while, periods of frequent and excited contact. Those tended to happen during high stress situations, intense lows, or major breakthroughs. He would have assumed that sheltering a human would have been a large enough event to merit frequent contact, but no, nothing much came of it. And he, like always, never pushed. So when the next time the two visited, months later, and they held hands, well… that was Gaster’s business. But he believed his friend’s explanation about different universes, and just like when they asked him the first time, he agreed to keep an eye out for another human.

Except he didn’t see one. Not until nearly a year after his initial introduction to the human Asteri, when Gaster introduced a lanky, disheveled human man. Grillby had heard the announcement, of course, just like everyone else: that there were two humans living in the underground, and they were not to be harmed. He hadn’t thought much of it at the time besides being relieved Gaster would no longer need to hide the woman he obviously had feelings for, that she had apparently found her friend, and that both of them were so peaceful in comparison to the last time a human had fallen, decades ago.

Meeting this second human, all things considered, Grillby should not have been surprised when his oldest friend introduced him as his own alternate self. Despite this, he immediately felt an odd sort of defensiveness well up on Gaster’s behalf. Grillby and the human man had stared at each other for a few moments, both processing this meeting. Then, something had clicked for the human, and the precise way he lit up with that dumb idiot grin was so familiar, so immediately recognizable, Grillby barely needed any more evidence to be convinced.

Oh, sure, he had about a million questions about the whole situation between the four of them— two Asteris, and two Gasters, all of whom had now met each other, apparently— but they would tell him what they needed to, when they felt ready. He didn’t ask questions. This many years of bartending and people-watching had given him both the ability to read people and the patience to mind his own business and wait for an explanation. People loved to talk, and there were far more ways to say something than with words. He was the silent companion, always there to listen but never to pry. A keeper of secrets, and a staunch minder of his own business.

Nothing about today had seemed especially different, except that the human Gaster had wandered in all on his own a while ago, hesitant but trying not to seem uneasy. (Trying to hide it was futile though; Grillby had known his counterpart for centuries and could read his body language like a book.) But he said nothing as was his custom, simply nodded in greeting and acknowledgement, and let the man sit where he liked and order if he wished.

It had been nearly a 40 minutes by now, with naught a word but to order something Grillby wasn’t familiar with, then brandy as a reluctant compromise, and two refills. Only now, nursing that second refill, had the man finally lifted his head and signed anything beyond that.

“You know, in my world, you are a bartender as well.”

Grillby eyed him. That was certainly one way to start a conversation. It was indeed tempting to take the bait and tug the line, but he had many years of patience. He waited silently, as always.

The man sighed inaudibly and studied Grillby with a sort of look he had seen before. Asteri— the human one— always treated him with an odd sort of familiarity when she visited (which was more often than he expected, frankly), as if she already knew him. Sometimes he caught her looking at him with what he had long since learned to recognize in patrons as nostalgia. Bittersweetness. Except hers was a little different in a way he could never put a finger on. She never said anything though, and as a bartender he never asked. Now it made a little more sense: he had a counterpart too, and the two humans knew him.

That look was different on this face, though. Where Asteri looked a little sad, but mostly fond, this human version of Gaster looked far more stricken.

“You are quiet there, too.”

Human Gaster smiled a little, but it slipped almost immediately.

“Not quite this quiet, though.”

He swirled his drink around and stared at it for a moment before taking another sip.

“You used to be quite reactive, when we first met.” He chuckled, just once. “You are still learning to keep your expression neutral when customers say outrageous things. You were getting much better at it.” A bright, genuine smile split the gloom he was projecting, for a moment. “You opened your own restaurant, much like this one! It was just taking off… when Asteri and I fell.”

The smile was gone just as quickly, replaced by an even more despondent expression.

“I was supposed to visit. We moved away, after university. I had to cancel my trip…” He sighed. “No. I did not need to. You were coming to visit us the following month, and so I reasoned…”

The human blinked watery eyes and laid against his arm on the bar, hands falling still.

“I wonder what you thought,” he signed after a few moments, small like a whisper, and a few tears rolled onto his arm. “When we disappeared.” He blinked slowly, looking somewhere that wasn’t here. “I wish I could tell you I am safe. That I am sorry. I wish…” His eyes watered anew and his jaw quivered. “…I could tell you that I miss you.”

He rolled his head so his face was pressed into his sleeve, and sniffled softly.

Grillby stared at him, genuinely surprised for the first time in a while.

Oh.

This man— they called him “Windy” —was undeniably Gaster, but Grillby had only acknowledged that fact on its own. But it didn’t exist in a vacuum. This wasn’t just “now there’s a human Gaster too.” This was also “Gaster thrown into a strange new place,” “Gaster grieving something enormous,” and right now, most of all, “Gaster without his best friend.”

He knew how his Gaster— Wingdings— was. He knew how bad things were when they were young, how much he needed support. After so many years, he knew it wasn’t self-absorbed or presumptuous to say that Wingdings needed him. It was mutual. Of course it was. No longer needing to constantly be around each other didn’t change the fact that once upon a time, they only had each other. It didn’t change how integral they were to each other’s lives, even to each other’s development as people.

So what if Wingdings just disappeared?

What if the last time he visited really was the last time?

What would he do if his best friend and only anchor throughout the centuries were suddenly gone? No explanation, no clues, nothing.

Sparks, he’d be devastated. Heartbroken would be an understatement.

And if it had happened back then, when they were both still settling into who they were? Grillby wouldn’t even be the same person. Wingdings just another monster erased after the war, but the only one he’d been side-by-side with through it all; the reason he hadn’t allowed himself to succumb to the numbness that came with killing; the person who had kept him kind, kept him compassionate. The only friend he’d allowed himself to have in a world where caring had always, inevitably gotten him hurt.

He would have been utterly inconsolable.

But Wingdings, Wingdings was far more tender-hearted. He took every loss so hard, every time, even after more than four centuries. Grillby couldn’t imagine Wingdings would ever be alright if anything happened to him. Not now, not back then. No partner could ever fill the space they took up in each other’s lives. No happiness could replace each other’s friendship. It wasn’t a romantic thing; They had just known each other longer than anyone else.

Grillby blinked, mentally shaking himself out of his thoughts, and glanced around his restaurant. It was sparser than usual, being a weeknight. His attention turned back to the human in front of him. He may not know Windy, but he knew Gaster. He may have a policy of silence, but he always made an exception for his friend.

He scooped a glass of ice and nudged Windy’s arm with it. Windy lifted his head just enough to look up with bleary, red eyes. The ice in the glass was half melted when he reluctantly took it.

“If Gaster disappeared, I’d be pissed," Grillby signed flatly as the glass was taken. Windy wilted again. Grillby's expression didn't change, but a crimson shimmer of worry and guilt flickered through his flames. "Wouldn't think bad of him though."

Windy searched his face, probably struggling to read it, as most people did. Fire elementals didn’t tend to have a lot of facial expressions; it had more to do with brightness, intensity, and color. Most monsters didn’t know that. A human from a world without monsters certainly wouldn’t. Indeed, Windy didn’t seem to find whatever he was searching for, and his eyes fell once more as he sipped his ice water.

“I’m sorry for unloading this on you.”

His signs ran together and stayed close to his body, like he was muttering.

“This must be so uncomfortable for you. I- I apologize for being so selfish. I should not have come and said all this.”

He made to get up, shoving his hand in his pocket to fish for his wallet. Grillby reached out to grasp his shoulder, stopping him. He looked up. Grillby paused, not entirely sure what he had intended by this gesture. Seeing Windy sad like this was like seeing Wingdings from long, long ago. It made his heart ache.

“Not selfish,” he said. Another moment of hesitation, then, “It’s good you came. Stay.”

Windy’s jaw trembled again, and once more Grillby was struck by how uncannily similar his expressions were to Wingdings’, somehow, despite having skin and muscle. Windy hesitated, torn. “I should get home…”

It was a weak protest, and Grillby knew Gaster well enough to know when he needed to be pushed and when he needed to be left to it.

“Sober up first.” A reasonable excuse.

Windy hesitated once again, but then nodded and got back on his barstool.

He took another sip of ice water.

Grillby wiped out a cup.

It must be strange, he thought, to meet someone who you know, but who doesn’t know you. If he were in Windy’s position…

He set the cup aside and eyed the other man once more. “How do I look?”

Windy looked up, confused.

Grillby nodded toward him with his head. “Human.”

“A-Ah! Well…” The other man cracked a smile. Success. “You are shorter, but otherwise have the same build. You have pale skin, and freckles. You keep your hair long, except in summer. It is usually tied in a high ponytail. It is wavy, and—” He chuckled softly— “fiery orange.”

A sliver of violet wove its way up through Grillby’s flames, and he crackled pleasantly. After a moment of consideration, he leaned forward closer and dimmed, just a little, pointing to his face. Windy squinted in the heat, but after a second his eyes widened and he grinned.

“Freckles! I did not realize you could—” He caught himself and waved his hands sheepishly. “Ah! That is to say, I know so little still, I find that my reasoning frequently returns to the principles of my own universe. I was not aware that a being made of fire could… could have freckles.” His smile split his face despite himself.

There was a flicker of violet in Grillby’s flames. “What else?”

Windy lit up even more. “We are the same age, but while I am often mistaken as being older, you have a “baby face.”” He giggled a little. “You cannot grow facial hair save for patches of stubble, either, and we have had more than one silly argument about it. In university, you would come home and complain about how many customers asked if you were old enough to be tending a bar to begin with.”

Grillby raised nonexistent eyebrows. “We lived together?”

“Yes, for a few years. You see, the living arrangements on campus…”

⁂

By the time Windy left, it was late. He was smiling though, and that made Grillby feel better. By then, Grillby had learned many things about his human counterpart and the world this other Gaster had once lived in. He learned that human Grillby liked the cold weather too, preferring snow over sun; that his name there was a nickname (his real name was Gilbert); and that there was no war they’d ever had to fight, only academic and social struggles. It sounded like a much nicer past.

Grillby had told him to come back soon— they needed to settle on a different way to sign his name, after all, so it wasn’t the same as Wingdings’. Windy eagerly agreed; both of them being “Dr. Gaster” to everyone at work was difficult enough.

“You can pick me a new one,” Grillby had offered as well. “If you want.” He shrugged. “Don’t have to.”

It seemed that Windy liked the idea. He had launched into over-explaining himself immediately upon agreeing though, as if Grillby would be offended by it when he was the one who brought it up. He held a hand up to stop him. “I already know.”

He was Grillby, but wasn’t Windy’s Grillby. It was as simple as that. That fact wouldn’t change. They knew different versions of each other who had lived very different lives. At the heart of it all, though, they were the same, and that was what mattered. There was nothing he could do about this other Grillby, no replacing him, just like Windy could never replace Wingdings. They didn’t have the same history. They weren’t each other’s oldest and dearest companions. No. But they could still be friends. It was a start.

[uzurakis]

hi again!! (ik I just sent in a request I just had another one LMFAOOO) im back bc I got another request/idea!! jjk men (..yuta n Megumi 🙏 n whoever else u want :3) who got into a nasty argument (could be from ur argument post but it doesn’t have to be connected to that post!!) and then gets really injured on a mission right after the argument! it’s up to you if reader + jjk men end up making up, or it could end on a angsty route of them anxiously waiting for reader to wake up while trying to think to ways to apologize with regret; doesn’t rlly matter!! do what you want 😛😛

HEY, WAKE UP . . PLEASE?

featuring: fushiguro megumi. gojo satoru. yuuta okkotsu.

n. first, i apologize this one took a very long time because i wanted to carefully hit the right spots and nail the each character. second, i only make 3 characters this time ‘cause each one of them is long enough to read. third, i wanna make you guys suffer <3 enjoy !!

FUSHIGURO MEGUMI

megumi’s fingers trembled as he reached out to touch your hand, the memory of his harsh words replaying in his mind. “why didn’t i see it coming?” he muttered to himself, voice hardly above a whisper. the guilt was suffocating, the feeling that he had failed you as a partner, both in life and on the field, gnawing at him relentlessly.

he hadn’t slept since you were brought in, eyes red and heavy, his emerald pupils weren’t evident anymore with the dark circles underneath a testament to his vigil. every beep of the monitors felt like a countdown, each passing second a reminder of how fragile everything was. he kept running through what he could have done differently, how he could have prevented this from happening.

“i’m sorry,” he whispered, voice cracking with emotion, repeating the words tremendously. “i’m sorry, i’m sorry, i’m sorry—“

“i’m so sorry. i never meant for this to happen. i never wanted to hurt you.”

his mind was filled with images of your smile, your laughter, and the way your eyes would light up when you were happy. he wanted nothing more than to see you open your eyes, to hear your voice, to have the chance to make things right.

the silence in the room was oppressive, broken only by the rhythmic beeping of the machines. megumi’s thoughts were a chaotic jumble of fear and determination. he knew he had to find a way to apologize, to show you that he cared more than he had ever managed to express. but how could he make up for the pain he had caused? how could he prove to you that he was truly sorry?

he squeezed your hand gently, as if the simple touch could convey all the words he struggled to find. “please wake up,” he pleaded softly. “i need to tell you how much you mean to me. i need to show you that i can do better. that i will do better. please, just wake up.”

as the hours dragged on, megumi’s resolve only strengthened. he would make things right, no matter what it took. the door to your room opened, but megumi didn’t look up. his focus was entirely on you, silently willing you to open your eyes. he wouldn’t leave your side until you did. he couldn’t. the weight of his regret was too heavy, his love for you too deep.

“please,” he whispered again, each syllable filled with desperation. “come back to me.”

GOJO SATORU

“you’re always so damn reckless!” gojo had shouted, his voice echoing in the small office.

“maybe if you weren’t so arrogant all the time, you’d understand why!” you had snapped back, feeling the sting of his words cut deep.

now, the same guy sat by your hospital bed, his usually confident demeanor shattered. his fists were clenched so tightly that his knuckles had turned white, blood seeping from where his nails dug into his palms. the sight of you lying there, pale and unmoving, tore at his heart. he cursed himself repeatedly, the words tumbling out in a desperate, angry whisper.

“fuck, fuck, fuck!” he muttered, voice breaking. “why the hell did this have to happen? why couldn’t i fucking save you?”

he stared at your face, willing you to wake up, to give him some sign that you were still there with him. the argument replayed in his mind, each harsh word a dagger in his chest. he wanted to take it all back, to tell you how much he loved you and needed you.

“shit,” he hissed, slamming his fist into the armrest of the chair. “i’m supposed to be the strongest, but what the hell does that mean if i can’t even protect you?”

a hollow aching threatened to eat away at his chest, a gnawing remorse. tears blurred his vision as he looked at you, voice a broken whisper. “wake up. i want to apologize. i want you to know how sorry i am.”

the room was silent except for the steady beep of the heart monitor. gojo’s thoughts were a chaotic swirl of guilt, also his helplessness. he had faced countless curses and enemies without flinching, but this, seeing you like this, was unbearable.

he cursed again, the words raw and filled with pain. “damn it, why didn’t i stop you? why didn’t i fucking do something?”

his mind raced, trying to think of ways to make it right, to fix what had been broken. but all he could do was wait and hope. he reached out, gently taking your hand in his, his grip trembling.

“i’m so sorry,” he whispered, voice cracking. “i love you. please, just wake up. i don’t know what i’ll do if you don’t.”

YUUTA OKKOTSU

yuta, who was normally expressive, was pale and drawn as he sat beside your bed. his voice was crushed by the weight of his remorse, and he was unable to speak. he was completely broken by the sight of you there, so still and vulnerable, in ways he never imagined. his fingers barely touched yours as he extended a shaking hand, fearing that the slightest touch could break you.

memories of the argument replayed in his mind, each moment seared into his consciousness. your angry words echoed in his ears, mingling with his own harsh retorts. he remembered the flash of hurt in your eyes, the way your voice had cracked when you told him you were done talking. he had let you walk away, his anger blinding him to the danger you were about to face.

tears welled up in yuta’s eyes, but he couldn’t let them fall. he had to be strong for you, even though you couldn’t sense a thing. the guilt gnawed at him, a relentless beast that whispered of his failures. he had promised to protect you, to be there for you, and yet here you were, injured and unresponsive, because he had let his anger get the better of him.

“it’s all my fault,” he grumbled, voice barely audible in the sterile room. “i should have stopped you. i should have been there.”

he stared at your face, willing you to wake up, to open your eyes and tell him it was okay. but you remained still, your breathing steady but shallow. yuta’s mind was a storm of regret and self-recrimination. he blamed himself for everything, convinced that his failure to resolve things before you left had led to this. if only he had followed you, things might have been different.

“wake up, please,” he begged, voice breaking. “you can’t do this to me..”

he felt a sob rising in his throat, but he swallowed it down, determined not to break in front of you. he had to be strong, even if it felt like he was falling apart inside. the thought of losing you was unbearable, a gap that threatened to swallow him whole.

“why did i let you go?” he murmured, his fingers tightening around yours. “why didn’t i fight for us?”

the minutes stretched into hours, each one an eternity as yuta sat by your side, his heart heavy with guilt and fear. he couldn’t imagine a life without you, couldn’t bear the thought that he might have lost you because of his own stubbornness.

“i’m sorry,” he whispered again, voice choked with emotion. he stayed there, silent and unmoving, the weight of his regret a constant presence. all he could do was wait and hope, praying that you would wake up and give him the chance to apologize, to tell you how much you meant to him. until then, he would sit by your side, holding on to the hope that you would come back to him.

“i love you. please, just give me a chance to make things right.”

@uzurakis

[wordsarelife]

—august

pairing: mattheo riddle x fem!reader

summary: mattheo chose you and still you wonder why he even broke up with his ex in the first place

warnings: feeling like the wrong choice, insecure reader, angst but fluff ending

notes: i just wrote a little drabble since i already had a planned fic ready for lacy, i hope you still like it!

her hair was flowing effortlessly over her shoulders, caressing her back like it was some sort of clothing. she looked effortlessly pretty in general, soft pink lips and warm brown eyes reflecting the light of the sun when she would walk through the courtyard.

and the worst thing about her? she was nice. simply put. you couldn’t even manage to hate her, because next to being beautiful, she had a charming personality, a great sense of humor and friends everywhere she went.

you had understood if she had hated you. you, the new girlfriend of her first great love. but she didn’t and that made it impossibly worse.

“hey, y/n” she had greeted one morning, a smile plastered on her face and happiness reflecting in her eyes. “theo mentioned that you had some problems regarding the divination essay” she said and added, before you were able to retort something: “i finished mine a few days ago and thought it might help you to read over it. it was indeed a very hard task, i struggled too”

“oh” you had said, dumbfounded, and stared at the pieces of parchment she was holding in your direction. “thank you, aurora”

“no problem” she grinned. “and rory is fine, all my friends call me that”

she had left in a hurry, having to return books to the library, and you spent your time looking after her in awe, surprise and insecurity flooding your features.

it was beyond you why mattheo had decided to break up with her. aurora turner was simply perfect and you certainly weren’t.

"what's going on in there, huh?" mattheo slipped into the space beside you, touching your head with one of his fingers softly.

"oh, nothing" you quickly excused, taking your eyes off of aurora and looking to the book in front of you. "this reading for muggle studies is just taking up my brain"

"romeo and juliet?" mattheo questioned, studying the leatherbound book.

"yeah" you sighed. "the english is kinda off"

"i know" he shrugged, turning the book around in his hands and opening it to a random page.

"you know?" you repeated, trying not to laugh. "i never as much saw you look at a book before"

"i liked this one" he smiled.

your smirk died down. "oh, i didn't know that" you tried to find his eyes. "why did you never mention it? i would've read it sooner then"

"it's not a big deal, that was ages ago" he paused, unsure if it was okay to finish the sentence, but you urged him on, nodding repeatedly so he would continue. "rory liked it"

"oh" you said plainly, before you realized that your reaction was all the more telling of your inner jealousy and insecurity about his old relationship. "i mean cool"

"y/n" mattheo muttered, laying the book down in front of you. "it really doesn't matter. we don't even have to mention it again"

"i don't want you to feel like you can't tell me something, just because you experienced it with your ex" you smiled, but it was costing you all your strength. "you can talk about the past, it doesn't bother me"

"that's clearly a lie" mattheo saw through you completely. "you shouldn't have to hide your feelings to make me feel better"

you sighed, realising that it was to no use to lie to him. "sorry, i just—" you shook your head "i don't even know why you decided to break up with her in the first place and i think i'm scared that you'll realize that at one point too"

mattheo looked at you with a soft smile, his gaze searching your eyes as if trying to convey everything he felt with just that look. "y/n, i'm gonna be honest. it’s not that rory wasn’t great," he began, his tone gentle. "she is a really good person, and there was nothing wrong with her. but that doesn’t mean she was the right person for me."

you blinked, trying to process his words as he continued.

"i realized that being with someone just because they seem perfect on the surface doesn’t mean it’s the right fit. we just didn’t connect in the way i needed. with you..." he hesitated, as if searching for the right words, "...it’s different. you make me feel understood. you get me in a way that no one else does."

you looked at him with so much admiration that he had to look down, his cheeks turning a deep shade of red.

"look" he said, when he was able to look in your eyes again. "dating rory was like constantly standing on a pedestal and people expecting me to be something different than i was. that didn't feel right, and it shouldn't. but being with you feels like coming home after a long day, realizing that there's someone in my corner even if no one else likes me for who i am and not for who they see in me"

"i didn't know you felt like that" you muttered, ashamed that you had possibly made him uncomfortable.

"i don't, not anymore" he smiled. "not since i met you. because i don't care about the others. i just care about us, you and me"

"i love you" you said as he kissed your cheek, pulling you closer by your waist.

"i love you" mattheo mumbled against your mouth. "don't ever think you're worth less than her, just because you're not her. if anything that's what makes you more special to me"

you nodded, teary-eyed, as he pushed his lips forward to meet yours. your hands toyed with the hem of his curls as he deepend the kiss.

after that day you never questioned mattheo's choice again. and you could see that both him and rory held a lot of respect for each other. but both were not even interested in anything deeper. mattheo never looked up when he heard her voice anywhere. rory never came to the tree you had often seen them kissing at, back when they had been together.

you realized that being enough for mattheo had never meant being perfect—it had only ever meant being yourself.

[helaintoloki]

Now that we know how Ben was a bit rebellious when he was a teen, how are we feeling about a fic where he used to sneak out to meet with reader, who is very much a sunshine person?

a/n: ty for requesting and i hope you enjoy ! also to clarify the ben in this piece is the original ben and not the sparrow

warnings: language

summary: ben manages to sneak out and pay a visit to his favorite person

At the exact stroke of twelve o’clock, three pebbles are thrown against the glass of your window to alert you of the waiting presence below. You’re quick to drop the book you’d been reading and lift the glass to greet your midnight visitor who immediately begins to climb through and into your bedroom.

“You’re late,” you tell him with an impatient look as he finally sets foot on your plush rug.

“I know, I’m sorry,” Ben confesses apologetically before dusting himself off and removing his shoes. “Dad stayed up later than I thought he would.”

“What about Luther?”

“He swore to secrecy after I threatened to tell Allison he wet his pants last week because he couldn’t get his uniform off fast enough to use the bathroom,” the boy explains with a cheeky smile, laughing at the playful nudge you give him.

“That’s evil,” you scold him with a giggle that conveys your lack of conviction.

“Sometimes a man just has to resort to blackmailing his brother in order to successfully sneak out,” he expresses with an innocent shrug before enveloping your frame into a tight hug to emphasize his point. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too. It’s been lonely without you around,” you admit as the ghost of a frown begins to form on your lips.

“Are your parents gone again?”

“Another business trip,” you confirm as nonchalantly as possible in hopes of masking your hurt at their neglect. “Won’t be home for at least two weeks, so it’s just me here.”

“I promise to sneak out and see you as much as I can,” Ben vows earnestly, carefully cupping your cheek in his hand and pulling your face closer to his own so that he may press a comforting kiss to your forehead.

“It isn’t so bad,” you admit with a lighthearted smile as you pull away from him and move towards your closet to retrieve something. “You want to see what I found at the bookstore today?”

Ben isn’t given a chance to answer your hypothetical question as you display the said item for him to see. It takes a moment for the boy to realize what it is he’s looking at, but once it processes an unamused huff of air leaves through his nostrils in response.

“Please tell me you didn’t actually spend money on that thing.”

“Technically I stole money from my mom’s purse to buy it, so no, I didn’t,” you correct him defensively before proudly holding up your purchase. “I figured if the real Ben can’t keep me company twenty-four-seven, then action figure Ben can.”

“That’s ridiculous!” He cries out indignantly before snatching the thing out of your grasp to scrutinize the details. “It doesn’t even look like me!”

“Of course it does!”

Shaking his head in bewilderment, Ben can only sigh and hand the doll back to you before moving to make himself comfortable on your bed. Having decided you’ve teased him enough for one night, you set the figure on your nightstand before moving to join him. It’s almost as if you naturally fit perfectly into his side when you curl up next to him and bask in the warmth of his arms around you. Nights like these have become more rare with time, so you like to make the most of it while you can.

“We should run away together,” you suggest casually after a comfortable bout of silence. You feel Ben’s chest rise beneath your fingertips with the amused laugh that leaves him in response.

“And where would we go?”

“Anywhere we want.”

“As enticing as that sounds, I can’t,” he reminds you. Frowning, you shift your frame and prop your head up on your hand so that you’re facing him.

“Why not?” You retort indignantly, almost offended by his immediate rejection. “My parents constantly forget that I exist and your dad is a complete asshole. Why should we stick around?”

“Look, my dad is a jerk, and I would love to just drop the whole super hero thing and never look back. But I can’t… I can’t just leave my siblings behind,” Ben explains gently while reaching out to push a stray strand of hair away from your face.

“So you’ll just wait for them to leave you behind instead?” You retort, aggrieved on his own behalf at the thought.

“They wouldn’t do that-“

“Five already did.”

A tense silence follows your words, and you bite your lip in regret at having let it slip. You know you’ve gone too far judging by the flash of hurt that passes on Ben’s face, and you’re quick to apologize for your lack of eloquent conversation skills.

“I don’t mean to be harsh,” you quietly clarify as you meet his understanding gaze. “I just don’t think it’s fair we both have to stick around and suffer because we got stuck with shitty parents. I want to get out of here, Ben. Don’t you?”

He pauses for a beat, his voice soft as he finally answers, “I do. And I promise you that one day we will. We just have to hold out for a little longer is all.”

“You swear?” You ask meekly, almost afraid he’ll change his mind and take it back. However, Ben takes your free hand in his own and gives it a reassuring squeeze before replying, “I swear on my life.”

Placated by the sincerity of his words, you’re happy to resume your previous position of being nestled into his side as he begins to tell you the latest tales of the Umbrella Academy, and you can live comfortably without the knowledge of knowing that Ben has made a promise he soon won’t be able to keep.

[ceoofyearning]

half algorithm, half deity - (Mafia AU) Eris Vanserra

Pairing: Eris Vanserra x Fem!Reader (Rhysand’s Sibling)

Summary: You try to date other people, but in truth you’ve only ever wanted Eris Vanserra.

Tags/Warnings:

Explicit (18+, MINORS DNI), SMUT with plot, Angst, Modern Mafia AU, Established FWB, Mentions of past Tamlin x Reader (brief), Mentions canon typical violence, Mentions of minor character death (Rhysand’s mom and other sister)

Alcohol, Oral (M & F receiving), Rough but make it tender & loving too, Hair pulling, P in V, Overstim if you squint (please lmkif i missed anything)

Word Count: 6.5k

Links: Masterlist | My Art

Despite your father’s best efforts, you didn’t inherit your family’s propensity for violence. 

You drink your wine and remind yourself of that fact for the umpteenth time tonight. But if this male gives you another backhanded compliment or, Mother forbid, another unsolicited criticism, you might reconsider that fact. Rhys had made sure you knew how to gut a man in just three moves and you remember each precise stroke as effortlessly as a breath.

To dissuade yourself from such thoughts, you take another generous gulp of wine - your only saving grace as you listen to him drone on and on about his most recent business acquisition. For the past forty-five minutes, the man has managed to recount his entire genealogy, his academic history and recited what felt like an itemized list of all his professional accomplishments. This is supposed to be a date, you’re tempted to remind him, not a chance to whip out his dick and measure it. 

He has yet to ask you anything about yourself, of course, entirely preoccupied with stroking his damn ego. You’ve stopped trying after the fifth cycle of appropriately timed ‘ooh’s and ‘ahh’s, seeing he doesn’t seem to need you to continue his tirade. Your pointed glares and longing glances at your wristwatch remain unnoticed too. The number of drinks you’ve had seems to be an entirely different story, however. 

"You know, you should really slow down," he remarks, his sardonic smirk exposing a set of eerily straight white teeth.

“And why is that, exactly?” You ask before taking another long sip of wine with deliberate slowness. His jaw clenches ever so slightly, his smile little more than a collection of clenched teeth. 

“You wouldn’t want to be too drunk for later.” He makes a show of raking his beady eyes over your form. The predatory glint in his eye makes your skin crawl and your hackles raise in equal measure. 

“Bold of you to assume there would be a later,” you drawl, your eyes narrowing into slits, nostrils flaring in silent outrage. 

“Oh, there will,” he declares with an impressive amount of unearned confidence. “How else are you going to pay me back for this meal, sweetheart?” He says it as though it’s a given, like your body is something he’s owed for this paltry display. Fuck, if you don’t leave now, you’re sure you’ll end this night behind bars, probably charged with manslaughter. Rhys would get you out of it, of course, but he’d be incredibly smug about it and you couldn’t have that. 

The man makes another show of tracing his slimy gaze over your body, making a pleased sound in the back of his throat. “I must say, I wasn’t a big fan of the dress - too revealing to be classy, in my opinion - but I suppose it wouldn’t matter when it’s on the floor of my penthouse.”

You admit that you don’t try very hard to hold back a gag. Without even dignifying him with a response, you hail the waiter and gesture for the bill in the hopes that the expression on your face is enough to convey the urgency you feel. To her credit, it only takes her a minute to rush to the table in all black and white salvation, the bill in hand. 

With haste, you pull out the cash from your wallet and slam it down the table. It should be enough to cover everything, even the tip. You give the man one last scathing glare before you rise from the table. A fish out of water - that’s what he looks like, wide-eyed with his mouth opening and closing, probably on the cusp of claiming to everyone in the room that you’re crazy, that you’re overreacting.

Before he can do any of that you pivot sharply towards the exit, ignoring the man’s indignant sputtering. Your feet protest beneath you, your new stilettos digging painfully into your skin with every step. Only when you’re five blocks away from the restaurant do you let yourself slow to a stop. You press the heels of your palms into your eyes, undoubtedly ruining the makeup you spent such a long time putting on earlier that night. 

Suddenly, the dress you felt so confident in now feels suffocating. The fabric clings to your skin fat too tightly, constricting your every movement. The silken garment you had thought to fit you like a glove now surrounded you like a cage. You tug at the neckline, trying to find some relief, but the discomfort only intensifies.

Frustration bubbles in your gut as you collapse onto the nearest bench to catch your breath. You feel so stupid. Although you don’t want to admit it, you’ve been looking forward to a nice night out after an entire week of slogging through work. Instead, you ended up sacrificing what little free time you have to satisfy some asshole’s vanity. 

The city continues in indifferent chaos around you. The fluorescent streetlights overhead and the headlights of passing cars slice through the night. People bustle past, absorbed in their own lives, oblivious to your existence. At this moment, you’ve never felt more alone. 

Seeing Feyre and Rhys fall in love has been an eye-opening experience. You’ve watched them gradually find happiness in each other, watched them build a life together. There’s also Nes and Cass, Viv and Kal - all so utterly content, so in painfully love. It is a relief to know that love is possible despite the kind of lives you live. After what happened - your gun slotted in between those bright forest eyes, finger frozen at the trigger; the stumbling string of sorries, of depthless regrets; white marble tiles stained crimson by blood - happiness hadn’t seemed like a possibility. All you’ve had since then are inconsequential flings and ill-conceived dalliances, nothing that could lead to anything more.

It’s difficult to admit that you want something more.

But since you’ve started seeing other people, it’s only been a series of disappointments one after the other. What made basic empathy and human decency such a scarce resource these days? In all honesty, you’re starting to lose hope, starting to think that maybe that love just isn’t in the cards for you. 

You cared for Tamlin in your own foolish, fumbling way. He was solid ground, he was stubborn certainty. He clung to control so tightly that his nails left angry red indents on his palm. In many ways, you were his antithesis, his unmaking. He tried to be good but the both of you hadn’t been good for each other. Perhaps the two of you had been too lonely, too stubborn, too fucking young to realize not all forms of love were healthy.

Eris Vanserra is an entirely different matter. He came to you as a flicker of flame in the darkest night. He was a breath of fresh air - a lungful of ember and possibility - setting you alight from the inside out. More importantly, Eris understands you the same way one side of a coin knows the other. That, however, didn’t mean you could be together. 

Perhaps in some ways, knowing made the longing worse.

Your hand clenches around air, around the vestige of a memory you can’t seem to let go of. Your fingers itch to dial the same set of numbers you’ve deleted from your phone time and time again. You remember it anyway, though. Your mind has faithfully cataloged every memory of him - silky red hair brushing against your cheek, amber eyes crinkling in mischievous delight, arms wrapping around your body, making you feel safe for the first time in your life. 

Your body moves before your better judgment can catch up. Before you know it, the familiar set of numbers is staring accusingly at you from your phone screen. Droning rings of an outgoing call pierce the silence. On the third one, Eris picks up. 

“Firefly.” That word. You can hear the amusement in his tone. You refuse to acknowledge the hint of relief you sense there too, the note of near manic joy. It’s been months since you’ve last seen each other, since you told him that you needed something more - more than stolen moments, more than simply falling in and out of each other's beds only to be nothing but mere strangers come morning. 

You say nothing, trapping unsaid words behind teeth clenched so tightly it’s a wonder you don’t break your jaw. 

“Cat got your tongue?” Eris laughs, smooth, sensual, and utterly addicting. The sound sends a shiver down your spine. You fight the sudden urge to feel his lips shape the words with your own, to feel the vibrations of his laughter with the tips of your fingers. 

“Tell me where you are,” he tries again. You can hear him lean back on his office chair, undoubtedly working late yet again. To anyone else, he would’ve sounded perfectly calm. 

“I don’t know,” you sniff, fighting back the traitorous tears. “I’m near the Moonstone Palace.” It’s the overpriced restaurant you had been in earlier, the reason you’re going to have to struggle with rent this month. You could always ask Rhys, but you’ve long since divorced yourself from your family’s wealth.

Eris exhales, and you hear a suspicious amount of rummaging in the background. “Could you send your location to me?” He suggests, and you can make out the faint sound of a door opening and closing. 

“Okay.” It comes out as a resigned sigh. 

Before he hangs up, he makes sure, “Are you safe?”

“I am.” 

“Give me fifteen minutes.” 

Eris arrives in ten.

You’re slumped on the bench, clutching your purse to your chest as the frigid night air rushes past you. In your haste, you completely forgot to retrieve your coat before rushing out of the restaurant. But then, the low growl of an engine captures your attention. You turn to find a sleek black Benz gliding into view before coming to a halt right in front of you. 

The window rolls down to reveal Eris’s smug face, familiar and foreign all at once. His bright fiery locks, longer now, have been tamed into a braid behind his back. Loose strands frame his sharp features, highlighting the severity of his beauty. He looks paler than usual, freckles now barely visible across his cheeks. 

Eris grins, voice laced with far too much delight. “Didn’t I tell you, Love? You wouldn’t be able to stay away.” 

Your nostrils flare involuntarily, equal parts irritation and wry amusement warring in you. When he notices the redness of your eyes, however, his smile banks. The only reason you can tell he’s worried is because you’ve spent an inordinate amount of time learning his tells, mapping the meaning behind the slivers of genuine emotion that sometimes slip through his carefully constructed mask. You’ve got it down to a science, interpreting him the same way astronomers find reason in the depths of the cosmos.

Without another sly remark, he steps out of the car and slips out of his coat as he strides toward you. When he moves to wrap the garment around your body, you try to protest. “That won’t be necessary.”

“You’re freezing,” he insists before dropping the surprisingly heavy coat over your shoulders. The effect is immediate. Eris is a walking furnace most days and traces of his heat still linger on the cloth, thawing the ice that has gathered beneath your skin.

You groan in relief despite yourself, finally acquiescing and pulling his coat tighter around you. Eris smirks, and you shoot him a perfunctory glare in response. Thankfully, though, he doesn’t comment on the way you bury your face in the upturned lapels, inhaling a lungful of his cinnamon and woodsmoke scent.

“Fun night?” He asks once you’ve plopped down the passenger seat. 

“Obviously,” you reply, words thick with sarcasm. “I had the time of my life, really. Nothing like a date with another entitled, self-involved trust fund asswipe to liven up my Saturday night.” Eris looks entirely too pleased with this information. 

He shrugs. “Your dates can’t compare?” He shoots you a knowing look. You resent the implication, but can’t entirely deny it either. 

The truth of the matter is that you’ve never truly gotten over Eris. As brief as your explosive affairs may have been, the male has found a way to burrow beneath skin, to etch himself onto the surface of your mind. There is no washing him off you. In these last few months, all you’ve done is find fragments of him in faceless men. 

“Can’t compare to your arrogance, maybe,” you retort a beat too late.

 

“Oh Firefly, you know you love it,” the smug bastard shoots back smoothly. 

“You think you know me so well,” you grumble, crossing your arms defensively.

“Well enough.” Eris’s smile widens, a glint of amusement in his eyes. “Well enough to know those men you’ve found aren’t worth your time.”

You roll your eyes, trying to ignore the fact that he is at least vaguely aware of your failed attempts at dating. Embarrassment coils in your gut, betrayed only by the steadily rising flush of your cheeks. “Maybe one day I’ll find someone who doesn’t make me want to scream.”

“Maybe,” he agrees, a hint of mischief lingering in his eyes. “But where’s the fun in that?” He leans toward you, face hovering over yours. The intensity of his gaze feels dangerous, almost like a threat, a promise that he could easily tear down all your walls if he pleased. Memories flash - of him devouring your mouth with his own, of bare bodies intertwined on soiled sheets, of him greedily drinking in each moan from your mouth as you clench tightly around his length - playing on torturous repeat in your mind. 

“You’re insufferable, you know that?” Your breaths come short, voice trembling. Eris’s smile widens, canines glinting beneath the warm light - a well-honed predator to and through. 

Eris chuckles. “And yet, here you are.”

You sincerely can’t tell whether you want to clock him in the jaw or pull him down for a kiss. But then, in a rare show of mercy, Eris withdraws. He simply pulls your seatbelt down and fastens it beside you before turning back to the wheel. You release a breath you don’t realize you are holding. 

The engine roars beneath you and Eris begins to maneuver the car back onto the highway. You slump further down in your seat, only to have several objects dig into your ribs. You jolt up, patting down his coat for the offending items. In your search, you produce a stiletto hidden in the inner lining and a Glock 19 in one pocket. 

“Really?” You quirk your brow at him as you drop another knife on the car floor.

Amber eyes dart towards you for the briefest second, a ghost of a smirk on his lips, before turning his gaze back to the road. You don’t doubt Eris has more hidden on his person, maybe even in this car. 

“Can’t be too careful,” he replies with a shrug, his hand flexing on the wheel. You follow the movement with rapt attention, transfixed by the rhythmic contractions of the muscles beneath, by the faint blue of the veins that run in webs up his forearm. 

Eris, the bastard, catches your preoccupation with his body. Of course, he does. 

His smirk widens into a full grin, his eyes glinting with amusement. "Enjoying the view?"

You snap your gaze back to his face, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. "Keep your eyes on the road," you remind him, stalling, trying to regain your composure. “Perhaps you should put up a show for me, and I’ll decide then.” 

Eris chuckles at the challenge, a deep, resonant sound that never fails to send shivers down your spine. 

The rest of the drive to your apartment is spent in comfortable silence, Eris content to leave you in your corner, brooding and bundled up in his coat. You lean your head on the window, letting your thoughts drift by at the same pace the scenery slips away from view. You don’t realize you’ve dozed off until you feel Eris tucking strands of your hair behind your ear.

“We’re here.” 

Your eyes flutter open, reality reluctantly coalescing into focus in front of you. There's an amused expression on the redhead's face as he watches you wake. A part of you is tempted to curl back into a ball, content to pretend at peace just a little longer. Eris has no such qualms, however. He undoes your seatbelt and tugs you out of the vehicle. His arms remain loosely wrapped around your waist, though, even as he closes the door to the passenger seat.

“I should go.” He is so close his hot breath brushes against your cheek, the scent of mint permeating the air between you. 

“You should.” 

But none of you move to part. Your hands remain tightly fisted on his otherwise pristine shirt, while his arms create a cage around you, his body pressing you against the cool metal of the car. 

“Why did you call?” Eris asks instead. His cheek rests on your temple, his nose buried in your hair like he can’t quite help but gravitate towards you. Your grip on him tightens the same way the sun pulls celestial bodies into its orbit, completely, inevitably.  

“You know why.” 

“Tell me anyway.” He pulls back just enough to look straight into your eyes, molten amber burning into you. 

“I want you.” You confess. I’ve only ever wanted you, your mind further supplies. His gaze is searching, as if scouring for all the ways he can turn over your words in his head if the new angles would reveal some hidden meaning.

“I want to forget.” You continue, tugging him down by the collar. He follows willingly and rests his forehead on yours. Lips hover over your own, breaths mingling in the scant space between you. His mask turns translucent. Joy, pain, and regret flash in quick succession across his face before you can even parse their meaning.

“As do I, Love.” 

The moment you step into your apartment, all traces of tenderness dissipate. 

Eris has you trapped between the wall and the firm line of his lithe body. He easily towers over you. With one thigh wrapped around his slim waist, only his firm grip on your hips and his thigh slotted between your parted legs keep you upright. Your remaining leg stands precariously on the tips of your toes, teetering dangerously in whichever current Eris pulls you in.

His mouth is latched onto your neck, leaving blooms of red in his wake. You should tell him to stop, tell him not to leave any visible marks. But all words and reason are lost to you when his teeth scrape against the sensitive skin in time with a particularly well-timed roll of his hips. 

“Eris!” You keen, clawing at his back in a vain attempt to find purchase. But there is no safe harbor to be found, not here. Eris is a force of nature. He is the living embodiment of wildfire, burning brightly, holding you so firmly, that it’s as though he intends to fuse your bodies together.

“What is it, Firefly?” He whispers the words against your ear, right before he catches your lobe in between his teeth. You can feel his lips curl against your skin. “What does my pretty girl want?”

“You.” It comes out as a demand, a desperate plea. 

“Use your words, love.” His movements settle into a languid pace, excruciatingly slow, pulling a whine from your throat. His single hand encompasses your entire jaw. Pads of his fingers press against the joint, his grip firm but gentle. Eris turns your face so you’re looking straight into his burning eyes. “Let’s try again, shall we? Tell me, how do you want me?” 

“I need your cock in my mouth,” you whisper your want against his lips, confessions you’d never be able to make in the light of day. Amber eyes roll back at the image your words evoke. Eris forces his eyelids shut as you continue to speak. “Then, I want to feel you inside me, fuck me into the mattress, until your name is the only word in my mind, until I can feel you for days after.” 

“Firefly.” With his face in the crook of your neck, he groans like you’re torturing him. You allow him a few short moments to gather himself - heavy heated breaths blown onto your nape - before tugging him by the hair insistently. His braid comes loose and a river of red falls in delicate curls over his freckled shoulders. Eris is an entirely different person when his head snaps up to meet your gaze.

“On your knees.” 

Electricity crackles through the air between you at the sheer command in his voice. Obediently, you sink to his feet, gazing up at him with wide hungry eyes. To his credit, Eris’s expression remains impassive, his ardor betrayed only by the tension in his jaw and the glint in his eyes. With his thumb, he presses down on your bottom lip. 

“Suck.” 

Your mouth parts to welcome him, until you feel the cool press of his signet against your lips, a welcome contrast. You swirl your tongue around the digit, bobbing your head for a few beats. Eris clenches his jaw, the pad of his thumb lightly digging onto your tongue as he pulls it out. You release it with a pop of your lips.

“Good.” 

Eris tilts his head, a silent permission to continue. While you gradually slip off his belt and undo the zip of his trousers, Eris gathers your hair in his fist. With a single push, his impressive length is revealed to you, long and heavy. Anticipation sparks in your chest, eager to feel his weight on your tongue.

“Go on then.” 

So you do. You flatten your tongue against the base of his cock, licking a stripe to the tip. There, you take the head into the wet heat of your mouth and suck. Eris makes an involuntary thrust, despite the tight leash he normally keeps around himself.

“Fuckin’ Hel,” he groans, grip now deliciously digging into your scalp. You moan your appreciation against him, and the male shudders in response. For a few moments, you simply alternate between lazily bobbing your head and swirling your tongue against him as best you can. Your hand twists in tandem to accommodate the remaining length of him. 

“You’re a damned tease,” he accuses. “A demon.”

With wide eyes, you blink innocently up at him from beneath your lashes. Eris scoffs, rolling his eyes, but allows the torturous cycle to continue. When you sense his movements grow more erratic, his muscles tensing beneath your palms, you slow your movements just in time to deny him his release. At the third time of doing this, Eris looks close to breaking.

“Enough.” He growls, the command reverberating through the silent room, through every fiber of your being. 

You still immediately, the intensity in his voice sending a thrill through you. He adjusts his grip on your hair, winding the strands around his knuckles and tugging lightly as if to test his grip. You groan at the bite of pain, your arousal dripping from you.

“I’m gonna fuck your pretty face now, Firefly.” He whispers with such disorienting tenderness. “Tap my thigh twice if it becomes too much, understand?” 

“Yes.” Your too-eager reply draws a lopsided smile from Eris’s otherwise stoic demeanor. “Please,” you add as an afterthought as you brace your hands against his thighs.

Eris tilts his head once more, and you take that as your signal to proceed. Your lips wrap around him, cheeks hollowing out, tongue curved around his length. His thrusts begin tentatively, but it doesn’t take long for him to find his rhythm. The head of his cock hits the back of your throat with each thrust, his firm grip on your hair directing each movement. You will yourself to relax, angling yourself to take him better, deeper. For a while, all your thoughts evaporate, your entire focus simply on breathing through your nose and watching the look of ecstasy unfold across his face. 

“You feel amazing around me.” Eris pants as he pushes impossibly deeper. You struggle to take him, throat spasming around him. “My good girl,” he coos, his thrusts stuttering. You groan against him when one stroke allows him to bottom out completely. Nose nuzzling the thin line of red on his lower stomach, tears bloom in your eyes. You look up, only to find him already gazing at you. His amber eyes were wide with want, transfixed at the sight of you taking him completely. 

“I’m about to come, Love. You’ll be a good girl and take it, won’t you?” A drawn out mhm is all the permission he needs. “Every. Last. Drop.” Each word is punctuated by a thrust. 

Then, on his final advance, Eris holds you there by the head until the very last moment, until the fire in your veins has spread into each lobe of your lungs. When you swallow around him, he chokes, rolling his hips into your mouth. Your fingers curl into claws against his thighs but you don’t tap out. He moves once, twice, then he’s gone. Eris allows you a bit of reprieve by retreating into your mouth as his length pulses the rest of his release onto your tongue. 

“Fuck.” He rasps. Then, with a single tug, he pulls you off of him and onto your two wobbly legs. Eris only gives you a few seconds to catch your breath before his mouth crashes against yours for a kiss. He groans as he tastes himself on your tongue. 

“So perfect for me, made to take me.” His hands roam your body as though eager to discover every square inch of exposed skin. This is Eris in his rawest form, you realize, all control turned into liquid flame in his hands. He practically tears your dress from your body, pushing down the silk until it pools on the floor. 

“Yesss,” you hiss, clawing at his shirt and shoving it off his broad shoulders. “Only you.” Heavy thunks follow soon after - the gun holstered at his side, the knife strapped to his thigh.

“I fucking love you.” He growls in between breaths. Without giving you a chance to reply, he sucks your bottom lip into his mouth, nipping at the raw flesh. 

You don’t even realize he’s corralled you into your room before he pushes you onto the bed. He pulls you to the edge by the ankle. Eris stands tall before you, rendered in sharp angles and steady lines, softened only by the warmth in his amber eyes. Then, slowly, he kneels between your parted thighs like a supplicant before their God and your body is the only conduit of worship he knows. 

“You okay?” He asks this while his head is pillowed on your thigh, as though he hadn’t just blown your mind. Eris, you’ve discovered, is a collection of contrasts - rough one second, and painfully tender the next. No amount of studying him could let you predict the direction of his passion. You don’t mind, though, you’d happily be carried away in his current.

“Perfectly.” 

“You remember your word?” He removes your stilettos, brushing over the raw skin where the straps have dug in.

“I do.” 

“Say it for me.” He lines your heels neatly at the foot of your bed. 

“Ember.”

“Good.” Eris begins his meandering path up your legs. A kiss on your ankle, lips ghosting over your leg. Once his lips reach your thighs, he starts to nibble and suck on your skin. The simple declaration of possession shouldn’t please you as much as it does, but it only deepens the pool of desire and anticipation in your gut. 

“Eris,” you whine, breathless, as he pauses at the seam of your thigh. His smirk only grows at your increasingly desperate pleas and the erratic movements of your hips.

“Use your words, Firefly.” Eris reminds you beatifically. “Tell me what you want.”

“Your mouth,” you begin, already struggling to form a coherent string of words. “Please?” 

“My mouth?” He asks, pretending to consider it. “But I thought you said you wanted my cock?”

His taunting jolts you out of your reverie, always rearing to meet his fire with your own. You come up to your elbows to level him a raised brow. “Well, you’re already on your knees, aren’t you?” Despite knowing you’ll pay for your words later, you try to inject as much bravado into your voice as you can. The effect is dulled by your obvious desperation though.

Eris chuckles, shaking his head as if in disapproval. “What to try that again, Firefly?” He blows a hot breath towards your core, the sudden sensation sending a jolt of electricity down your spine. “I’m sure you can do better than that.” 

You clench your teeth, a vain attempt to keep the pleas trapped within your mouth. Eris remains steadfast, of course, staring you down with obvious amusement. His lips travel a languid path, teeth teasing, mouth nipping, veering closer and closer but never close enough. This is a battle you’ve already lost from the start. 

“Please?” You grit out. “Can I please have your mouth?” 

“You’re a greedy little thing aren’t you?” Eris laps at the marks he’s left, just a few millimeters from where you want him to be. Practically vibrating with need, you dangle on the sharp edge of anticipation. The bite Eris plants on the soft flesh of your thigh is what pushes you off the precipice.

“Please,” you plead, each syllable dripping with need.  “Can I please have your mouth?”

“Well, since you asked so prettily,” Eris drawls, entirely indulgent. He places your leg over his shoulder and dives in. First, he runs the flat of his tongue over your flimsy thong, lapping at your slit. You shudder at the sensation, melting against the sheets as he continues.

“You taste divine.” He growls, the vibrations making you tighten around nothing. Then, closes his mouth over your slit and begins to suck. You throw your head back, heel digging into his back, hips arching towards the pull of his mouth. Your arousal seeps into the cloth. A heartbeat, a fraction of eternity, then Eris licks the lace greedily like a man starved.

“I can’t get enough of you.” He mouths against the fabric. You feel the truth of his words as surely as the growing flame in your gut. Then, he slides your undergarments down one thigh, keeping it wrapped around the other, a mockery of a wedding garter. Finally, his lips close around your clit as he slides one long finger in you, then two, scissoring them inside. You release a choked sob. His fingers are much thicker than your own, but the stretch is a burn you’ve been craving for far too long. 

“Fuck, Firefly, you’re so damn tight.” He murmurs against your skin. He begins thrusting his fingers in and out of you, making it a point to curl his digits in just the right spot. The precision of his movements is enough to drive you out of your mind. Eris shifts between murmuring sweet nothings against your heated skin and drawing precise circles around your clit.

At some point, Eris’s free hand finds yours, intertwining your fingers with his own. It doesn’t take long for you to climb that familiar high. Hurtling over the edge so fast, you don’t even realize you’re cumming until you’re overtaken by a wave of pleasure. It saturates your senses until the only thing that makes sense is Eris, Eris, Eris. 

He doesn’t stop. His fingers hit that torturous angle, while his tongue laps at your bud. “One more,” he demands and you whine in protest. “Just one more, Love.” 

“‘S too much-“ you try to say, but your words crack into a sob. “I c-can’t-“

“You can,” he coos. “My good girl, my lovely little Firefly.” The praise does more for you than his hands could. “Always so perfect for me.” 

Desire is a living thing inside you, an inferno building beneath your skin. You crush his fingers in your grip, while the other threads itself through his silken locks, needing something to anchor you unspool for him.

“Eris, I’m-“ your voice cracks, reality blurring around you as you spasm around him, hips gyrating, driven only by pure primal instinct. He groans, as though your pleasure is as good as his own. His fingers speed up, his tongue licking your bud to and fro with dangerous precision.

“Cum for me, Firefly.”

You do. You break into flames with his name on your lips, back bowing, eyes trained to the unseen sky. You barely even register when Eris climbs into bed with you, too preoccupied with reacquainting yourself with your body. Only when he pulls your pliant form over his chest do you meet his gaze. 

“Are you alright?” There is concern in his gaze, and you wipe the worry from his face as you run your knuckles over his cheek. 

“Perfectly.” An invisible tug calls you to dip your head and taste yourself on his lips. Eris licks the seam of your mouth and waits patiently until your lips part for him. 

Without breaking contact, you wrap your hand around his girth and begin stroking him to full hardness. Your tongues meet, and you relish the trace of your taste in his mouth. Once his cock is ready, you line him up with your entrance. 

You lower yourself onto him, slowly, inch by inch, until you’re fully on his lap. For a moment, you simply stay like that, with him seated deep within you, lips locked in a languid ebb and flow. When you begin to move, you do it together, rising and falling in question and answer to the other. You wonder if there will always be this constant compulsion to have Eris near, the need to feel his skin against yours, to feel his beating heart thump in step with your own. Somehow, against all reason, he’s managed to worm his way into your life, to make a home for himself within the chambers of your heart.

Eris becomes the ruined wreckage of a man as you slide off him up until only the tip remains, before slamming back down. Eris keeps his gaze on you as though he’d rather die than miss a single moment of this. He groans, meeting each and every single one of your movements. His one hand grips your hip, guiding and grinding, fingers digging into you. The other cups your breast, his thumb tracing over your nipple. When your thighs begin to ache, legs quaking, powered only by desire and desperation, Eris easily flips you over. 

“Harder,” you choke out, “deeper.”

“So demanding,” Eris teases but seems happy enough to comply. He places a pillow beneath your hips. You almost whine at the pause, but Eris doesn’t give you a chance. He begins with an unforgiving pace, pistoning in and out of you with abandon. The new angle is torture specifically designed to tear your remaining sanity into shreds. Your legs lock around his waist, hands clasped tightly with his own. His lips hover over yours, drinking in each whimper, each moan, like it's ambrosia and you’re the sole source. 

“Are you about to cum for me, Love?” Eris breathes. And you nod frantically.

“Tell me, Firefly, who’s making you feel good, hm?” He punctuates the sentence with a hard thrust that has your eyes rolling to the back of your head. 

“You are,” you rasp, convulsing around him as his cock nudges the perfect spot inside of you.

“My name,” he demands.

“Eris.” It comes out as drawn out moan, a plea, a promise.

“And who do you belong to?” The force of each slam has you seeing sparks, and when he begins to circle your clit with his thumb? You’re gone, utterly defeated and consumed by the flame. 

“You!” You scream, repeating his name over and over and over. 

“That’s right,” he purrs. Your thighs shake, back arching completely off the mattress. The world breaks apart around you, reality melting into a flash of blinding light. He slows down and fucks you through the throes of rapture, extending seconds into eons while you flutter around him. With one last grind of his hips, you feel his cock throb as he spills deep inside you. 

Eris collapses on top of you, surrounding you in his scorching warmth. For a long while, only your shared breaths exist in the silence. He nuzzles deeper into the crook of your neck, as though unable to help himself.

Eris doesn’t tell you he loves you again. He shouldn’t, for both of your sakes. But you feel it in the featherlight kisses he leaves over your shoulder, his gentle touch as he traces each curve, line, and ridge of your body. He does it with such ease, as though it’s an art he’s perfected through the years, through lifetimes. 

Instinctively, you begin to run your hands over his back, fingers running over the lattice of faded scars there. Anger is a flaming arrow through your chest. Beron is not an easy father to have. Eris, as the prospective heir to his empire, receives the brunt of his brutal scrutiny. What you’d give to have the opportunity to tear that old bastard’s head from his shoulders.

As if sensing your sudden agitation, Eris’s roaming hands become more insistent, kneading away all the tension from your muscles. “Relax,” he whispers against your ear. 

Although he rolls off of you, he doesn’t go far. Without letting you out of the cage of his arms, he curls beside you like a cat, each plane of your bodies perfectly aligned. With his head resting over your heart, a rumble of contentment escapes him.

It’s startling to think that to anyone outside of this room, Eris is a villain, as well-versed in savagery as his father. But you know him, seen parts of him the world would never know. You and Eris have always been two sides of the same coin. 

He understands what it’s like to endure and inherit a father’s rage, to house a mother’s bottomless grief, to be saturated with so much shame it steals your every breath. The two of you are so different and yet are hewn from the same ore, forged from the same fire. Although there are a multitude of reasons why the both of you can’t be together, it feels as though Eris is the only one who's ever truly seen you as you are. 

But self-denial is a circus act you and Eris perform with practiced ease. You’ve already fucked up before and it wasn’t you who ended up paying the price. No, it had been your mother and your sister. Their blood will stain your hands for the rest of your life. 

You won’t make that same mistake again. 

Two twined heartbeats, breaths released and taken in unison, Eris drifts off as your fingers card through his hair. You drink him in, long lashes fluttering as he flits into sleep, faint freckles like stars scattered over the ridge of his nose, and his face, for once, open and devoid of that familiar mask. You map its planes with the tips of your fingers, cataloging each detail and etching them onto the back of your mind. 

Eris will be gone come morning. He always is. The only proof of his presence would be the ache between your thighs and his scent still lingering on your sheets. But for now, though, he is yours, as fleeting as this moment may be. 

This is enough, you tell yourself. 

AN: hello this is my first smut fic in a while & this is a bit different from my usual thing so i was a bit nervous about posting this one. Let me know what you guys think!

Dialogue and banter aren’t my strong suit but i tried my best ;u;

This started as pwp fic but now there’s plot and I’m invested. I’ve got a few ideas and I kinda want to do a series of one-shots for these two.

English isn’t my first language. If you see any mistakes please let me know thru DM! Thank you 💙

[bomber-grl]

Sal Fisher Affection hc ! ₊˚⊹

Pairing(s): Sal Fisher x Gn! reader

Hes so sweet 😭

As I’ve previously established

I honestly think sals love language would be quality time or words of affirmation

(Definitely words of affirmation)

If you ever had any concern or thing that was weighing on your mind Sal would most definitely reassure you

And successfully at that

I’m sure many would believe being around someone who compliments you all the time would feel insincere and not genuine

But Sal manages to convey his sincerity each time and again

He of course loves spending time with you too

He just loves being around you and just your presence overall

Sal is open with affection and it’s never really bothered him

Well, atleast it was that way when you were friends.

When you two became a couple he’d freeze up and would fluster a bit when being confronted with more romantic gestures

hes still open and willing to receive and give affection

As I’ve stated, Sal really enjoys your company

It’s one of his favorite things and when you first start dating in highschool you guys often spend time in his room and just cuddle there

It became a habit that transcended into your young adult years.

He was of course hesitant when cuddling but soon relaxed and realized there was no reason to be so panicked, he learned that he really enjoyed being in your arms.

When/if you date in highschool then if your identity isn’t what you were assigned at birth and you show pda whether it’s a quick peck on sals mask or a warm hug

(Or if you’re a guy, same as Sal)

Then Travis is your number one hater

He sees that and calls you guys slurs (obviously)

He’s mostly insignificant especially when you poke fun at him and say stuff that riles him up that ultimately drives him away.

The friend group can be a bit teasing at times

Especially when Ashley catches Sal inching his hand towards yours and you intertwining them

Ash automatically forces Larry to look and they’re just so supportive

Same with sinjin- I mean Todd

(Sorry I got that from Twaimz when he played Sally face live 😭)

Even then, you two often hug and cuddle a lot

More often than not passerby’s will see you sitting down with a doting sal leaning his head on you

Or vise versa

Ok so we all know Sal is absolutely reluctant to removing his mask in public

However, in private he feels more comfortable

Especially since you’re not only friends, but dating now.

It was only a matter of time that kissing would come into the conversation

Your guys first kiss would go two ways

The first being planned by the both of you

Or just spontaneous

Either way it’s very awkward yet sweet! 😭

The first way would be when you and Sal were just casually hanging out

His dad was out and that left the two of you guys alone

(I envision your first kiss would be when you’re in high school)

You and Sal had obvious wanted to kiss each other for awhile

And although you’d kiss him on the forehead, knuckles, and on his mask

Mostly because you’d forget his cheek was covered, sometimes not

Regardless, you both felt ready and Sal had invited you over

It was so painfully awkward ngl but regardless he took his mask off and y’all kissed

He was honestly nervous and a bit hesitant cuz although he knew you wouldn’t mind he still couldn’t shake off the feeling that you wouldn’t like it.

He even asked you if it was good enough 😭😭😭😭

The second scenario would be natural except when you forget Sal still has his mask on and you both get awkward especially since you accidentally kissed his mask.

It’s still sweet tho cuz you can actually see him being bashful instead of picking up on it from his voice and body language.

Sal is such a sweet guy and is always asking if it’s fine to hug or kiss you

Not always verbally, mostly stopping and giving you a chance to run away lol

But ofc you never do

I mean, it’s Sal fisher

Cmon now

[xxblairexxss]

Ashamed

Pairing : Charles Leclerc x reader

Theme : Angst, fluff

Word count : 6.7k

You had been feeling under the weather these past few days and had to reject Charles’ offer to go out, let it be for any parties or events without knowing he was secretly feeling disconsolate from the act, oblivious to it, until you saw pictures of him with a girl the next day. Was this his act of defiance of you?

Warnings ; the personalities were heavily inflicted from the reader’s ‘sickness’, cursings, incorrect medication term, incorrect medical terminology

Charles put away his phone and strode, leaving the room as he heard the sound of a pin number being typed in and the lock gave away the soft ring, indicating the door was unlocked. He didn’t need to wait for the ring. He had been waiting for his girlfriend to come back. His gut feeling was saying that something was wrong when you texted him earlier that you weren’t feeling very well. He didn’t get to pick you up from the office because he had other things scheduled to do, and you, being the most understanding girl he had ever met, assured him that it was all fine because your girl friend, Lia would be picking you up.

"Hey, are you alright?" That was the only thing that came out of his mouth, despite knowing what the answer was from your pale face.

You only managed to shake your head before crashing your body into his embrace, soaking in every inch of comfort he could give. He wasn’t home for two days, having to be in Maranello for work stuff, so you were on your own, living life until your body felt different when you woke up this morning. The thermometer didn’t indicate any fever, so you thought it would get better in a few hours.

But it didn’t. You had to lay your head down on the table, your eyes squeezed shut, hoping the headache would calm down after taking the pill, but it wasn’t working. Those hours being at the office felt like a torture; you couldn’t wait to go home, wrapped yourself up in a cosy blanket, to see your favourite face knowing he would be back in a few hours.

You were actually surprised to see him, as he was supposed to be back by midnight, but you had no energy left to convey the emotions.

"Baby?" Charles called out again after getting no replies.

"My head feels so heavy." You mumbled, feeling like you could fall asleep standing up while listening to the thump of his heartbeat against your ear with both of his arms wrapped around your body.

"Have you eaten? Do you want to eat something?" He asked again, this time with his eyes on yours as he broke the hug.

"No. I just want to lay down.." 

"Okay." Seeing as if you could lose consciousness any second, he quickly took your stuff from your hands, placing it on the couch before picking you up and going straight to the bedroom where his phone was left, still on and replaying the same video that he was watching earlier over and over. "Y/N, I’m going to help you take off your makeup first, alright?" He stopped you from lying down on the bed and made a quick run to get your makeup remover from the dressing table. He had seen you do it before, and he had also helped you take off your makeup whenever you got drunk from your girls’ night out. It was no difference this time.

"Baby, stay with me. I promise I’ll be quick." He assured you, one hand on your cheek to stop your head from dipping down, and quickly, yet gently, moved the makeup remover wipes across your face. He saw your flushed cheeks and pale lips when he removed all sorts of colour from the makeup, which made him even more worried. "Stay awake, baby. I’ll get your change of clothes." He left the wardrobe room after leaving a kiss on your hairline. Your body was warm.

"Thank you." You muttered as he helped you lay down after changing into pyjamas, which finally felt like you could properly breathe.

"Are you sure you don’t want to eat anything? I could try and cook something simple." He had eaten his dinner with Joris before making his way home earlier, but if you said you were hungry, he would get something done right this second, but you kept telling him no, assuring him that you only wanted him to stay with you until you fell asleep. So be obeyed.

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"Y/N? Where—what are you doing?" Your feet stopped moving further away, your hand still on the knob. You thought that when you fell asleep earlier, you would have woken up feeling better. You did feel better, but your stomach didn’t. You were famished. You didn’t realise you didn’t eat anything yesterday. Charles was sleeping peacefully, facing you with his hand on your waist, and you didn’t have the heart to wake him up, knowing he needed the rest as much as you did.

Your plan to get something to eat without waking him up failed even before you got to step outside the room. "I’ll be right back. Go back to sleep, honey." You gave a smile, though he wouldn’t be able to see it in the dark, before taking another step, but he stopped you again.

"Baby, where are you going? Do you need anything?"

"I’m going to get something to eat." You mumbled, and he frowned. His one leg was already off the bed.

"What?"

"I’m hungry.." The grip on the door knob went loose as you played with your fingers and eyes away when he started approaching you.

"Why didn’t you wake me up, love?"

"I don’t want to trouble you. Go back to sleep, honey. I’ll be quiet." You pushed his middle, convincing him, but he stood there and didn’t budge an inch.

"Then let’s get you something to eat." Your hand in his middle was grabbed as he left a peck on your palm before pushing you to walk ahead of him.

"What do you want to eat?" He asked, peeking behind your hand as you checked through the rows of chocolates in the fridge. "Chocolates?" 

"I need something savoury." You mumbled, and he trailed behind as you moved to the drawers. "Ah, this!" 

Charles’ frowned when you picked out a pick-coloured instant noodle out of the drawer that was fully stacked with your favourite food, one that was too spicy for him.

"At this hour?!" 

"Yes!" You squealed, controlling your excitement that was gone as soon as you looked at him.

"Baby, I don’t think you should eat that right now." He pressed his lips, looking away from seeing your eyes. When he touched you earlier, your body was still warm, but it wasn’t as bad as it was hours ago. Judging from your face, it seemed to him that your headache was gone too, without having to ask you how you felt.

"Please! Just for tonight!" You pleaded.

"Alright, fine. But no more instant food for this week." His yawn that he had been holding in slipped through at the end of his sentence.

"Go back to sleep, honey. You're going to fall asleep standing at this point. I can cook these noodles myself." You patted the cheeks, chuckling. You felt bad for waking him up, but he kept on turning a deaf ear to your words.

"It’s okay. I’m keeping you accompanied." He moved closer, making you face the boiling water on the induction, so he could hug you from behind with his head resting on your shoulder. "If I fall asleep, you can keep me standing straight."

"Do you want some?" You poured in the powder that came along with the noodles after you drained the water.

"I’m okay, baby. Thank you for asking." He buried his face on the side of your neck, which made you giggle as the hot breath tickled on your skin. "Oh, but I do want the seaweed. Do you still have it?"

"Yeah! It’s up there, I think."

"I’ll wait for you on the couch." He leaned in to kiss your cheek while ambling in front of the television, with the seaweed snack in hand.

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"Charles! Have you broken up with the girl?" Louis came, hand slapping on the driver’s shoulder as he took a seat by his side. He had been seeing Charles on his own for the past two events.

"What? No! Never, dude. She’s not feeling well." Charles let out a chuckle at the idea. He had been with you his whole life. There was no way he could ever let you go.

"What’s the point of having a girl when she can’t keep you company?" Louis replied, which sounded like a sneer to the driver. "Right? Isn’t it her job to attend the events with you?"

"No." Charles laughed and tried to shrug off the topic that gradually turned heavy. "She has her own job, Louis. I don’t choose her to be my partner just for a plus one, you know. And I don’t really mind it. Events lasted only for 2–3 hours; I spent the rest of the remaining hours with her."

Louis remained quiet. He never liked you because it felt like his friend right here wasn’t able to do what he actually wanted, just because Charles was too head over heels for you.

You had been with Charles even before his lifestyle became more lavish. Charles always asked for your permission before he did anything, though you always told him it wasn’t necessary.

"Just because I earn more than you, just because you feel yourself lower than me, doesn’t mean I should ignore your rights and title as my girlfriend."

Is what he has been saying all this time. You were grateful for him, of course, but you couldn’t ignore the scowl from his friend, Louis, at times.

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Your sickness came and went. Sometimes you wake up feeling horrible, but it went away in a few hours. Sometimes it lasted for the whole day. One thing was for sure; you have been feeling drained these days. You had no problem coming home from work to do extra housechores before, but these days, you could barely lift a finger. Even sitting at the office felt like you had depleted all of your energy.

"Y/N." Charles called out, still in the same outfit he wore when he left this morning.

"Yeah..?" You slowly rubbed on your eyes, pushing your hand against the bedsheet to muster up all the strength to sit up.

"Y/N, you promised me you would clean the kitchen. Why can’t you at least clear out the used pots and plates?" You heard him sighed.

"I’m sorry. I was so tired." You mumbled, like a kid who just got told off by the mother.

"It’s not like you have to go to work! It’s the weekend." Charles’ voice went a little higher, clearly frustrated. "You were doing fine this morning."

"I know. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’m so sorry." You inched closer to where he was sitting on the bed and grasped his arm. "I’ll get it done right away. Please don’t be mad."

"I’m not mad. I’m just—" He took a breath and drew your head closer to his chest. "I’m so sorry for shouting at you."

"It’s alright. I’ll get it done right now." You get off the bed, still in your blue checkered pyjamas. Your limbs were still sore, though you had been doing nothing other than laying down for the whole day.

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Week passed, Charles had another event tonight, and you promised to attend the event with him this time, considering the fact he had been left to go alone for the past 2 weeks and people started assuming he was single. No, you weren’t going because you wanted to claim he was still yours, but it had been a while since the last time you dressed up, looking pretty in a dress with your hair all curled and styled. You barely wore any makeup to the office now, ever since you hadn’t been feeling well.

The nausea came and hit again as you were going through the rows of clothes. Your feet were fast enough to drag your aching limb to the toilet. Charles headed out to pick up his suit earlier, and he was looking excited when you told him you would be coming with him.

But it seemed like you had to break the promise again. You were so sleepy, your headache came back again. Standing up was so agonising that you were left sitting on the bathroom’s floor for the longest time ever before pushing yourself to lay down on the bed.

"Y/N, you should get ready. We shouldn’t be late." Charles muttered, a little pissed off at the fact that you chose to go to sleep instead of getting ready.

Y/N," Charles called out, more stern this time.

"Charles, I don’t think I can go tonight."

"There you go again. What the fuck is your problem, Y/N? I swear to God, it felt like you were doing this on purpose." The phone in his hand was slammed on the bed, making you flinch. "Do you have any problems that you don’t want to tell me? Is this all an act?"

"What—what do you mean? I’m really not feeling well. My whole body aches." Your brows knitted together, and the drowsiness was gone a little from being accused of such nonsense by your own boyfriend. The boyfriend who had been with you for more than 5 years

"Yeah, right. It’s just the same fucking thing. You woke up feeling all fine, making these promises here and there, and then all of a sudden, oh, I’m sick. Bullshit." You caught him scowling at you as he took his stuff and slammed the bedroom door on his way out.

You wanted to argue with him; you wanted to defend yourself, telling him he was wrong, but you were so sleepy, and it didn’t take long enough for you to fall back to your dreamland, forgetting those hurtful comments thrown at you for a little while.

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"What is it this time? Your sick girlfriend finally  died?" Louis came, laughing after seeing his friend, still alone but this time with no smile on his face.

Charles didn’t say anything. He knew Louis wasn’t really fond of his girlfriend despite years of being together, but he had too much on his mind right now to say anything.

"She’s still sick? What kind of sickness does she have?" Louise laughed in a mocking way.

The driver remained quiet.

"You really came just to show that sullen face around here?" Louis squeezed Charles’ shoulder a little harder as he looked around. "I can introduce you to someone. She came alone." 

"Eryn!" 

Charles looked up, looking at the area where his friend was focusing.

"This is Eryn. Eryn, Charles. Pretty sure you know who he is." Louise winked at her, and she grinned, knowing very well what that look meant. "He came alone, so he needed someone to talk with. You can be his companion." Eryn took over Louise’s spot as he left with a smirk on his face.

Charles remained quiet, not replying to any of the woman’s questions. He wasn’t actually there. His head was replaying every word he said earlier, rewinding the scene just to take a good look at your pale face, and every time his head put the clip back to rewind, his heart was slowly wrapped in penitence. 

Why did you do that to her, Charles?

His skin felt cold when he felt the woman’s lips land on his cheek, which made him jump right away. "What the fuck?"

"You seemed to be so far away, so I’m trying to pull you back on your senses."I’m sorry!" She whined, her hand trying to grab his, but he moved away, his face looking completely vexed.

"Don’t touch me. I have a girlfriend." He stood up, teeth clenched from trying to hold his anger.

"She’s not here!" Eryn held on to his arm, trying to stop him from walking away. "You should try to have some fun!"

"Have fun with someone else. I’m going home." 

"Louise told me you needed someone!" Eryn pulled Charles back onto his seat, clutching on to his arm so he wouldn’t leave and humiliate her in front of everyone.

"I never said that." He glowered at her suspiciously. "I never said that. She’s enough for me. She’s all I need." He never imagined having someone else by his side other than you; he could never imagine you being with someone else. The thought of you smiling and laughing with a man other than him killed him inside.

"Where are you going?" Eryn yelled, seeing Charles walk away. He never bothered to answer the question.

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The house was silent when he came home. It was looking exactly like it was when he left, so he knew you were still in bed. It was tiring because it seemed like you passed every house chores to him, letting go of every bit of your responsibility in the house. It had been a week since you asked for a leave of absence, while he had to go out and travel back and forth from Monaco to Maranello, so he was expecting you to at least lift a finger to help him.

Charles cursed under his breath after taking a glance at his reflection in the mirror. The lipstick stain on his cheek was rubbed off roughly as he wet his hands with the tap water. It was demeaning to you as his girlfriend if you ever saw him with a lipstick stain from another girl.

Unknowingly to him, his name and yours were already all over the gossip pages after the pictures were taken.

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"Morning, baby." Charles beamed, feeling your arms snake around his waist from the back. He woke up early this morning to clean up the house and got everything done before you woke up. The crestfallen feelings from last night were gone; all he cared about now was for you to be the first person he saw when he woke up. "I made you breakfast. I'm pretty sure this one was going to taste better than my last attempt."

His laugh was unsupported. Your arms around him became more secure as you planted your face against his back.

"Y/N?" You kept quiet, too wounded to reply. "Hey, what’s wrong?"

The phone in your hand was taken away, leaving your shaky hands empty as he looked at the screen.

"Y/N—"

"How could you do this to me?" Your voice trailed off.

"No, listen to what I have to say. It’s not what you think it is."

Charles’ hand that hovered on your cheek was shoved away as you wiped your own tears. "Who is she?"

"Eryn. Louise’s friend. Look, I didn’t know—"

"I trusted you!" You howled, hands clenched into a fist as you punched his chest, again and again as you sobbed.

"I was alone! You weren’t there with me, so I—"

"So you let her kiss you?" It hurt. It hurt so bad to see the guy you loved break every bit of trust you had.

"It wouldn’t happen if you were there with me." Charles muttered. He knew it was his part to calm you down and give you reassurance, but part of him felt like it was unfair for the blame to be on him alone. You should have been there with him.

"Charles, I was sick!" You cried. He sounded so distant.

"And I was lonely, Y/N! I barely saw your face, though we lived in the same house. We stopped watching movies together and stopped making dinner together. I miss you! Sometimes I don’t even remember your existence in this house. Just tell me the truth. Are you tired of us?"

"Stop turning this on me! I wasn’t feeling well, and you know it. I didn’t wish to lay down all the time." Your gaze went to his face, pleading for him to see your reason.

"Bullshit." He scoffed and turned his back on you. The grip he had on the kitchen counter was hard, making every vein in his hand more visible. "You didn’t go to work; you didn’t do shit for days. I was the one who did everything in this fucking house, Y/N! I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with you to be so fucking useless."

Some of the tears dropped on your feet, and some of them started decorating the porcelain. "I did what I could in the house, but there were times when..." You stopped when you felt like you were choking on your tears. "There were times where I got so tired, Charles. I got so tired that I just wanted to lay down, and I—"

"You did nothing, Y/N! Nothing! Whenever I came home, you would be sleeping, leaving everything behind for me to clean. Am I your fucking slave? Using my money alone isn’t enough; you have to make me bow down and get on my knees to praise you like a god? Is that what you want from me?"

"I’m sorry.." You went from standing right on his back to a few feet away, unable to look at his raging eyes that were perforating you.

"Yeah, that’s the only thing you could say. How does it feel to win the fucking lottery in your life? I know you don’t actually want to work but didn’t want to make it seem too obvious that you were using me for wealth and fame. Guess that wasn’t enough that you have to make me do everything in the house that you didn’t spend a dollar on, the house that I paid for." He walked away; the scrambled eggs he was making earlier were left forgotten on the stove.

"Charles, that wasn’t my intention." You trailed his steps, hand went to grab his arm as it felt like he was trying to walk away from your life.

"Everything you have on you right now is my money. Your necklace, your bracelet, and your ring. That shirt you are wearing. Everything. I just want you to stop using me for your benefit, Y/N. I came home and went to sleep with no touch or kisses from you. I didn’t even have anyone to talk with about my day. At this point, it’s just worthless of you to keep on being in my life." Charles’ expression went hard. He didn’t know where the thought came from, but he knew how bad the damage was the moment those words slipped off his lips.

"I’ll give back everything." You murmured, taking heavy steps in front of the man you love. "I’m sorry for being a burden." You took his clenched fist and opened it, placing the ring he had given to you on our first anniversary five years ago on his palm. The bracelet with a butterfly charm that you got as a graduation gift was unhooked as you put it with the ring on his palm. You could never forget his sweaty face from chasing the flight back home just to make it on time for your graduation. How he was so nervous to put the bracelet on you with his hands shaking in front of your parents.

"Can you... help me take this one off?" Your long hair was gathered in one hand as you turned your back on him, begging him to take off the bracelet that you were so happy with when you first got it. The bracelet that he gifted for you when he got to join Formula 1. Funny how it was him who achieved something, but you were the one who got a gift. Guess it was true when he said you were using him for your own benefits.

But the bracelet that you had worn with pride and contentment now felt like it burned your skin the longer you left it on.

His hand that was shaking when he first put the bracelet on you, the hand that was shaking out of excitement and nervousness, was now shaking again as he took the necklace off. 

but this time it was out of fear and uncertainty about what was to come next.

You weren’t able to look at him because your cheeks were drenched in tears. If your skin could soak up every tear that had dropped from your eyes, it would have reached its limit by now. You heard him weep, but you didn’t dare to bring your gaze up. If being in front of him right now made him feel humiliated and made him bend forward even more from the weight load that you brought, then it would be better for you to just step out and let him go.

"I’m sorry for everything." It was useless to wipe your eyes only for them to shed more tears after, but you still did it. You wiped the tears and left a peck on his wet cheek before you made your way to the room. It didn’t take long for you to pack your things together because, like he said, everything you had on was his. He stood there, eyes on his palm, when you walked out with your luggage. His shirt that you had worn before was put in the laundry bag, afraid he would find it disgusting if you just left it anywhere else.

And you left him. You left the house that had become your home for years. All because of your sickness.

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"When will they discharge you?" Your best friend, Lia, looked back, toning down her voice so she wouldn’t get caught by your boss for loafing around. "I’m so bored in here without you."

"Tomorrow!" You squealed and covered your mouth when she asked you to keep quiet. "I’ll be out tomorrow! But I’ll start working in 2 days."

"I can’t wait to see you! Just let me know whatever you are craving, and I’ll get it done!" She winked.

"I want your brownies! The one with strawberries that you used to bring for lunch.” You rested your hand on your middle.

"You got it!" She confirmed with a grin and looked back right away when there were steps coming. You laughed, seeing her not-so-sneaky attempt to video call you during work, but you hadn’t been able to talk to her for days, so she couldn’t wait for another hour to spill all the tea you had been missing.

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"Charles!" Lia greeted the taller man with baskets full of ingredients. She had stopped by the supermarket to get all the things needed to make her brownies that you were craving when she bumped into the driver in the cereal aisle.

"Lia. It’s been a while. How are you?" Charles grabbed the cereal box in front of him and put it in the basket along with his other stuff.

"Good! How are you? It must be very exciting, isn’t it? I mean, I have no relation to her at all, but I’m still so, so excited; that was all I could think of for this week." Lizzy shook her shoulders, trying so hard not to scream.

"I don't—I don’t get it?" Charles mumbled, slow enough that it didn’t get to capture Lia's attention as she remained in her own bubble, looking so elated about something she just mentioned. "That’s a lot of things you got there." He then changed the topic; his gaze went to the basket she was holding.

"Ah, it’s for Y/N! I hope she doesn’t give you a hard time with her pregnancy cravings, Charles. It won’t be that long; just bear with it. The excessive morning sickness was harsh enough." Lia blurted, looking down as she remembered how horrible you looked when you were hospitalised for hyperemesis gravidarum.

Charles felt like his heart just dropped to his stomach. If Lia walked away right at this moment, he was so sure his legs would give away.

"If you feel like she’s too much or you are too tired to satisfy all her needs and cravings, please let me know. I can help you in bits and pieces. If she wants a banana cake at 3 AM and you are too exhausted, call me. I can bake one and send it to your house right away. I do understand your career and ours; mine and Y/N’s were totally different, so I’ll help you as much as I can. If you need to fly away, please don’t leave her alone. Send her to me. She’s my best friend. She’s always welcome at my house." 

Charles tilted his face away from Lia, facing the colourful boxes of cereals, to stop his tears from slipping down. His hand, which was wrapped around the hoops of the basket, nearly slipped off.

Lia chuckled and wiped away her tears, feeling slightly embarrassed for shedding tears in front of the driver. "I’m so sorry, I got so emotional. I’ll get going first. Bye, Charles! Make sure Y/N gets home safely from the hospital tomorrow! I’ll smack you if anything happens to her."

Soon as Lia was gone from the aisle, Charles took his phone out. Fingers hovered on your contact name, the only contact that was saved with a heart emoji.

What have I done?

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Two pairs of eyes were looking at each other when they heard the bell ring. They weren’t expecting anyone, not even a visitor, considering their only daughter had just come back from her week-long stay in the hospital.

"Open it."

"You go." Mrs. Y/L/N pushed her husband towards the door as she hurried back on the couch, ignoring the look from the man.

"Mr. Y/L/N." Charles stood straight when the door opened, and his eyes landed on the older man.

"Is there anything I can do to help you?" The tone was unwelcoming.

"I—can I see Y/N?"

"She’s asleep. Come back tomorrow." The older man was going to shut the door before his wife called out, feet approaching those two men who were wrapped in frosty air.

"Come in, Charles. I was going to wake her up for her medicine, but I guess you could do that for me." The soft, caring tone of the older woman reminded him so much of the girl he loved.

"Can I go to her room? If you don’t mind." Charles gulped, ignoring the eyes of the older man.

"Of course! It’s not your first time in here, honey. Come in." The older woman assured before drawing the driver inside the house, asking him to go straight to your room before her husband could say anything.

"I’m not taking the blame if she doesn’t want to talk to us." The older man said, locking the front door.

"He is still the father of the child." 

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When Charles walked in, he saw you sitting up, hand on your middle that hadn’t shown much of a shape yet, as you turned your body around to let your legs hang off the bed. It seemed like you didn’t realise he was in the room based on the lack of reaction he got. He stood there, seeing your back, while your hands were busy scanning through the medicines in the dark. He felt the heartache again, the same one he felt at the supermarket in front of Lia. He heard you hum, your body subtly trembling as you swung your legs, your hands still busy going through the tonnes of medicines in hand.

"Y/N.." 

Your whole body stopped moving, your voice was gone when you heard it. The voice you had been missing, longing to hear him call out your name,

Charles quickly grabbed one of the medicine packs that nearly fell off your laps and kneeled down in front of you. He took all the medicines you had in hand and flicked on the bedside lamp so he could see your face.

And again, there was no difference from the last time he saw you. Your face was damp with tears. The smooth, pink lips were quivering from trying to keep your cry silent.

He was staring at your face for too long for him to realise that there were trails of tears forming on his cheeks as well. "Which one— which one do you need?" He brought his gaze down, scanning the names of the medicines in his hand.

"I need pyridoxine, promethazine, and metoclopramide." The tears that rolled off your eyes ended up hanging off your jawline.

Charles wiped off the tears hanging from the lower edge of your jaw before he searched through the packaging, putting aside the ones you mentioned. The glass jug that was on the bedside table was taken before you could extend your arm.

"Thank you." You muttered; your arm sleeve was used to wipe your wet lips.

Charles brought up his hand, pulling it back before he rested it on your middle. "Can—can I?"

You nodded.

He brought and stroked his hand on your belly as his tears dropped when you placed your hand on his. "How long?"

"3 months."

"How long have you known?" He looked up, his gaze went back on yours.

"Around 2 weeks ago. Mom brought me to the hospital when I lost consciousness, only to find out we were going to have a baby." You managed to smile at the end of your words, excited to bring the fruit of your love to the world.

We. Charles bit his lips, head dipped down, thinking back on what he had done, yet you were still acting fine, smiling, and addressing the pregnancy as his as well, despite all the horrible things he said to you.

"Lia said you were hospitalised. What happened?" He cupped his hand on your kneecap.

"My morning sickness was too severe; they had to keep me in the hospital because I was too dehydrated and had imbalanced mineral levels in my blood. But I’m all good now. The baby is healthy too." You wiped the fresh tears from your boyfriend’s cheeks.

"Why didn’t you call me?"

"I don’t want..." The next words were stuck in your throat, and the memory from that night came back into your mind.

You don’t want to be a burden to him. He knew that was what you wanted to say. "I’m sorry—"

"I’m sorry.." You said it at the same time. "I’m sorry for being a burden to you. You deserve to be happy, Charles."

"You make me the happiest person on earth, Y/N. Even if I’m not happy with my life, I still want you to be with me, just like you always have. Everything I said that night, I didn’t mean any of it. I didn’t know why I felt so lonely. I missed you so much that I became frustrated. It doesn’t excuse any of my words, I know." Charles’ head was on your lap as you brushed your fingers through the soft curls of his hair. He was still crying. You knew it when some of tears dropped on your skin.

Charles rarely cried. Maybe it was true what your mom had been saying.

"About Eryn, she—" Charles’ was about to continue his words, but you interrupted, which made him lift his head from your lap.

"I know." You smiled, seeing his wet eyelashes. "I know about her. Louis called me and explained everything. It was my fault for doubting you."

"No. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for being a terrible boyfriend. I shouldn’t have stayed with her that night. I should have left; I should have gone home to you."

"Even if you left her, she would still follow you around. Louis confessed to me, saying that he forced her to do things to you because he hated me." You cupped on the cheeks, your lips still curled into a smile, seeing the man in front of you.

"Louis..said that?" He had brought you to meet his friends a few times but never realised any loathing or hatred from any of them. To him, his friends never had any problems with you. His old friends, at least. Louis was one of the guys he met through a mutual a year ago and joined the group a few months after that. You never said anything to him either, so he didn’t want to accuse anything, though he did realise you were uncomfortable whenever Louis came up to him.

"But I realised how much he actually loves you. I was wrong for that. I’m really sorry, Y/N. What Eryn did was all because I asked her to. I asked her to flirt him, kiss him if needed, do anything that could break your trust on him. " Louis admitted feeling dreadful for what he did to his own friend.

"And I think I know why you have been feeling like that." You mumbled, leaning against his touch on your cheek.

"Like what..?"

"Stand up..you’ll hurt your knees." You pulled, or at least tried to make him stand, as he cautiously took a seat by your side, and you finally hugged him, your head against his chest.

"I know why you felt so lonely and frustrated." You closed your eyes as he cradled your head. "Mom said you could be having couvade syndrome." 

"And what does that even mean? Do I need to get myself checked? Is there any treatment?"

"No. It’s just something that some expectant fathers would experience." You sat up straight and giggled.

"You mean, from the pregnancy?" His hand went back to your belly.

"Yeah. One of those symptoms is attention seeking." 

"Are you saying I was attention-seeking?"Hm?" He pinched your nose as he laughed along with you. He did feel like you didn’t love him because you kept on ignoring him, and he found himself getting mad because you didn’t touch or kiss him like you used to because you fell asleep before him. "It kind of made sense, though." 

"You still should have told me what you were actually feeling. I can’t read mind..”

Charles smiled, seeing your adorable expression with your pursed lips. "I know, baby. I know. That was totally my fault, and I am so, so sorry for what I did. I totally get it if you need some time. Just, please come back to me when you are ready."

"No.." You whined, his head was tugged closer, and you hugged him by the neck. "You can’t leave me again."

"I’m not, love. I just thought you needed some time." He stayed in your embrace; arms went around your waist.

"I don’t need that. I just want you to be with me. You can’t leave me." 

"Hey—" Charles pulled away when he heard you start sobbing and cupped your cheeks so you would look at him.. "I’m not leaving you, sweetheart."

I guess it was true what his friend went through.

"Dude, my girlfriend has acted like a freaking child ever since she got pregnant. She’s so adorable, I’m telling you." Nico grinned from ear to ear, thinking about his pregnant girlfriend at home.

"Yeah, right." Charles laughed, not denying it but not agreeing with it either.

"I’m serious! Girls get extra sensitive when they get pregnant; it’s like taking care of a child."

The driver only shrugged, his lips still smiling.

"You’ll know when Y/N gets pregnant." 

"Ah, I brought this back." He grabbed the small jewellery box he carried with him earlier and took out all the gifts that belonged to you. "Will you take these back, please? I know what I said was harsh, and it made me sound like a miser, but when I bought these for you, there wasn’t any point in my life where I ever thought of the price or you returning them to me if we ever broke up. I bought them because they reminded me a lot about you. I can’t keep them, and I don’t want to keep any of them. I want to see you wearing it. I want to see you show them off to everyone. How beautiful you looked with it." Charles saw your empty stare and pressed his lips, understanding the look very well. "But..it’s okay if you don’t want to. I’ll just keep it safe."

"I don’t want you to break up with me.." You gave a whimper of protest.

"Y/N, that’s not what I meant." Everything he said earlier was ignored, and you only caught the words ‘break up’.

"But you said it.."

"I know, but—that wasn’t my point. I’m not breaking up with you." He smiled when you started weeping again.

Is this what Nico had to go through when his girlfriend got pregnant? It is indeed so fucking adorable.

"Promise?"

"Promise, love.” He brushed your hair away from sticking all over you face and kissed your forehead. “Can I put these back on you?"

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"I told you it was couvade!" Mrs. Y/L/N jabbed her husband’s chest with her elbow, both pairs of eyes still peeking through the door of their daughter’s bedroom.

"How did you know? Rough guess?" He replied.

"Because I know my future son-in-law very well! He wouldn’t do any of that for no reason. Have you ever seen our daughter cried ever since Charles came into her life? No! And you had it too when I was pregnant with Y/N." 

"That’s enough. Let’s just leave them alone." Mr. Y/L/N tugged on his wife’s hand, whispering.

"What if they do something inappropriate?"

"She’s pregnant. It’s too late to think about that." He laughed, taking the steps away first, followed by his wife.

✧.* general tag list! @i83andrew @cltrlne @karmabyfernando @ohthemisssery @ru-kru @tastebaldwin @f1obessed @love4lando @shinrjj @ietss @leclerc13 @darleneslane @buckybarnessweetheart @xcinnamongirl @boiohboii @formula1mount @judespoision @alwaysclassyeagle @scenesofobx @mrsmaybank13 @vildetry06 @harriesgolden

If your usernames were crossed, meaning I can’t tag you! Let me know if you would like to be removed or to be added to the tag list! Or if I missed anyone!

[taifenggg]

love Language HC’s for the brothers? Like love languages that if you do certain things they’ll fall harder, like spending time with mammon when you don’t have too. Or getting new books for Satan that he couldn’t budget.

I love you more than words can convey.

CW: none

Characters: GN!Reader, Lucifer, Mammon, Leviathan, Satan, Asmo, Beel, Belphie

Authors Notes: ahhh this is so cute <3. Based on what you said, I'm assuming that this is the brother's favorite love language to receive lol

Lucifer [🦚💙]

Lucifer's favorite love language is quality time, but it can be argued that acts of service are his love language as well.

Lucifer is fairly busy in his day-to-day affairs, and it pains him whenever he's too busy to spend time with you. He's always busy working on paperwork that has been piled up so high that you can barely see him behind all of the papers. However, your presence brightens up his day as you make your way into his room. You don't say a word as you plop onto the sofa in his room, absentmindedly scrolling through your DDD or reading a book that you brought yourself. Just your presence is enough to get him to relax and get right back to work so that he can go to bed sooner to cuddle with you.

Furthermore, if you just so happened to brew his favorite Hell Coffee, setting it down on his desk, he'll feel himself soften even more in your presence. The coffee you make for him is always especially bitter, not that he minds. Lucifer is always looking after everyone, his brothers, Diavolo, and you. So going out of your way to do things just for him makes his pride swell. This man is so whipped for you even if he won't outwardly say it LMAO.

Mammon [💰💛]

Mammon's favorite love language is physical touch, but it can be argued that words of affirmation are his love language as well.

Always the tsundere, Mammon is not one to ask you for your attention directly, instead implying it and waiting for you to take action. Being the Avatar of Greed, Mammon is determined to hold onto every shred of attention that you give to him, which contributes to how possessive he is over you. Somehow he always has a hand on you, whether it's his hand wrapped around your shoulder protectively as you two navigate the bustling streets of the Devildom or the way he holds your hand tracing circles against your palm as the two of you lay together in bed. He can't keep his hands to himself, but thankfully you don't mind.

Mammon's self-esteem always takes a hit whenever his brothers berate him for being a "greedy scumbag". Please reassure him and tell him how amazing he is. Brush your hands through his hair, and press a gentle kiss to his forehead as you tell him how much you love him. Tell him about how he's your favorite, how he's the best thing that has ever happened to you and he's putty in your hands.

Leviathan [🐍🧡]

Leviathan's favorite love language is quality time, but it can be argued that receiving gifts is his love language as well.

Levi enjoys the company you provide. If he could, he would spend hours upon hours holed up in his room, playing video games, or watching anime, or reading manga. Of course with you at his side at all times. Perhaps maybe the two of you could even do matching couple cosplays together, but alas Levi is too shy to even bring it up without his face flushing 5 different shades of red at the thought. Really, he just enjoys doing things together with you, and he cherishes all the little moments you have together.

He's always doing his best to get his hands on the latest anime merch, or the newest release of his favorite manga, but he appears crestfallen whenever he can't get his hands on what he wants despite waiting in line for 5 hours. His face lights up however when he finds that you managed to get your hands on the exact thing that he wants and he feels his heart flutter when you hand it to him, telling him that it's a gift for him. Levi swears that he just fell more in love with you than he was before.

Satan [😾💚]

Satan's favorite love language is words of affirmation, but it can be argued that quality time is his love language as well.

To Satan, words are the best way he can convey his emotions, especially if it's written down. He struggles a lot with who he is, without feeling a surge of anger whenever he feels that he's starting to be a little too similar to Lucifer. He wants to be his own demon without constantly feeling like he's just a copy of Lucifer. Tell him about how smart he is, how he always knows what to do, or how reliable he is. He'll have the smugest smile on his face as he listens to your praise, and he shoots it at Lucifer because he knows that he's your favorite and not Lucifer.

At the end of the day, Satan just wants to spend as much time as he can with you, unwinding with a book in one hand, and preferably with you sitting in his lap reading with him. Not many words are spoken between the two of you, but just the feeling of you resting against his chest is enough to help Satan relax and forget about his troubles. As much as he enjoys listening to your voice, and hearing you ramble about your day or things that interest you, he also enjoys the silence with the two of you basking in each other's presence.

Asmodeus [💋🩷]

Asmodeus' favorite love language is physical touch, but it can be argued that acts of service are his love language as well.

Asmo can't get enough of you. Asmo is so open with his affection towards you and he's not afraid to show it when he openly holds your face in his hands and coos about just how adorable the two of you are together. Whether it's in class, when you're out and about, or when the two of you are hanging out together, Asmo either has his fingers threaded into yours or has his leg pressing against yours. You don't mind though, his presence is comforting to you.

Asmo loves it whenever you get all fussy over him and do things for him. Don't get him wrong, he's independent and can do things on his own, but he enjoys being pampered and taken care of by you. Yes please do his nails for him, please paint his nails for him while the two of you have your regularly scheduled gossip sesh, please massage his shoulders, he was feeling a bit sore around his neck.

Beelzebub [🍔❤️]

Beelzebub's favorite love language is acts of service, but it can be argued that words of affirmation are his love language as well.

Beel loves you and the fact that you're so willing to indulge him and his hunger. He knows that he has a voracious appetite, but does that stop you from making more than enough of his favorite foods? Hell no. You wanna make this man melt even more? Offer to help him whenever he works out, maybe sitting on his back so he can use you as a weight, or stay there by his side and hand him some water whenever he finishes working out so he can stay hydrated.

Beel struggles with conveying his emotions and ever since what happened with Lilith, that has worsened exponentially. He's not the best at saying how he's feeling and at times he can get depressed and insecure over things that happened in the past. Reassure this gentle giant, tell him that what happened was not his fault and that no matter what happens, you'll always love him unconditionally. He's so, so soft for you.

Belphegor [🐮💜]

Belphegor's favorite love language is physical touch, but it can be argued that quality time is his love language as well.

Belphie is clingy, that's an established fact lmao. He always has his tail wrapped around you to ensure that you don't suddenly leave him. Pillows don't have legs after all! He's such a little brat too, he would totally slip his ice-cold hands underneath your shirt right as you're about to fall asleep and would blink sleepily at you unapologetically as you jump and squirm to get away from his freezing fingers. Belphie discovered that he couldn't sleep without keeping his hands on you. He'll pout and whine until you oblige and slide into bed with him.

He loves taking naps with you, and he'll keep you trapped there for as long as he can. There's just something that's so comforting about you and him lying together in bed. He'll press his forehead against yours and squeeze you so tight to the point where you can't breathe. Sometimes Belphie wonders how he got so lucky, managing to get the chance to call you his own. It's only when he watches over you, cuddled up to him that he feels his heart melt. He wants to keep you with him like this forever, no matter the cost.

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[lupinsweater]

Oeh! Could you maybe do a dad! Remus x reader where they get woken up by their daughter (Remus is a girl dad u can't tell me otherwise) and it's very domestic and cute and stuff:)😊

thank you for the request!! remus would definitely be a girl dad and he would be so wrapped around her finger it’s insane😭 hope you enjoy!🤎

Dad!Remus x Mom!Reader 💌 548 words

♡ ~ ♡ ~ ♡ ~ ♡ ~ ♡

You woke up on a lazy Saturday morning to the soft sound of little footsteps padding down the hall. Your daughter was trying her best to be quiet, but at six, she still had a hard time controlling her volume. Before you could even open your eyes, you could feel your daughter approaching, shaking your arm gently. Your eyes fluttered open, and you smiled softly at her.

“Good morning, darling girl,” you whispered, brushing her sandy blonde curls away from her face. She was the mirror image of Remus already, her long nose and warm eyes tugging at your heartstrings. Her face was still flushed from sleep, and her hair was a tangled mess.

“Mummy,” she whispered back, her breath warm on your face. “I wanna snuggle Daddy.”

You reached your arms out, and she tugged on the blanket as you helped her climb into the bed without hesitation. She crawled over you and towards Remus, who was already stirring beside you as she rested her head on his chest as she settled into his arms.

Remus let out a soft, sleepy laugh, his arms automatically coming up to curl around her small frame. “Is that right?” Your husband murmured, his voice thick with sleep but full of affection. He brought his hand up to cup her face fondly, his thumb gently tracing the sleep lines on her cheek. “I think I can manage that.”

She giggled quietly, pressing herself into him firmly, her small hands grasping at the fabric of his sleep shirt. “I had a dream, and when I woke up, I just wanted to be with you, Daddy,” her little voice full of sincerity. “I like snuggling you the best.”

You watched as Remus’s face softened, a look of pure love settling in his eyes. His hands rested on her back, continuing his gentle circles as he pulled her even closer to him. “Well, you’re always welcome to snuggle with me, lamb,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head. “Anytime you want.”

Your daughter smiled sleepily, and you could see her beginning to slip back into a gentle slumber. “You’re the best, Daddy,” she mumbled, her voice growing softer as her eyes closed. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Remus said tenderly, pressing another soft kiss to her forehead. The way he held her, and the way his actions conveyed his love for her, made your heart swell. He looked at her with so much adoration, as though she was his whole world. And in that moment, you knew she was.

“She’s growing up so fast,” he whispered, as though the thought had suddenly struck him.

You nodded, and you felt your voice catch slightly. “Too fast.”

For a few blissful minutes, everything was still- the three of you wrapped together in the quiet comfort of the morning, and everything else in your lives suddenly became irrelevant. Your husband shifted slightly, moving to hold both of you close, his warmth a steady presence in your cocoon of blankets. He leaned over to press a kiss to your temple, his eyelashes tickling your forehead.

“My lovely girls,” Remus said, his voice so quiet that it felt like you were intruding on his own thoughts. “We’re so lucky.”

You couldn’t agree more.

[nonsensenook]

Chapter 2 | Coarse Sands, Red Blood

Synopsis: It was unfortunate timing to get kidnapped mid-argument with the Destined One. A continuation from the first chapter of this take on you, the reader, accompanying the Destined One on his journey.

Word Count: 4,112

Warnings: Violence, Mature Content (Heavily Implied)

Author's Note: This was a fun chapter. Thank you for all the support and kindness you've given the last chapter. I hope you enjoy! Ch. 1 - Ch. 3 - 3.5 (Optional)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Getting into an argument with a silent participant was by far the most testing part of the journey. You wanted to believe you had adapted enough to be a true companion rather than an extra-carry on, but the time your companion’s wasted fussing over you made you feel more like a disobedient, sickly child. 

At first you could forgive him. You had sustained an injury from a Yaoguai mid-foraging while The Destined One was resting. He hadn’t heard or sensed this one hiding when he had scouted the area. Your cry of pain alerted him, he quickly killed the Yaoguai before looking at your wound. The injury you were given on your arm wasn’t deep, but the way the blood was soaking your clothing had him make a new expression you hadn’t seen before. He was careful when he bandaged you up, every small sound you made when the wound stung would have him freeze midway.

You couldn’t heal as quickly as he could. The drink he’d given you lightened the pain, but the wound still stayed. Since then, he refuses to eat until he is satisfied with the amount that you’ve eaten. The worst of this was when he wouldn’t let you help him out in any way other than advising, not even to dust off sand from your equipment. He would silently urge you to only rest while he took care of any and all preparation that was needed. He no longer lets you out of his sight. Things escalated when he couldn’t take the hint that some more private moments couldn’t be shared. Despite the rising tensions and silent exchanges of meaningful looks, you still managed to find yourself waking up next to him. This only added to your aggravation. 

Your wound had long since closed, leaving a scar as a reminder. You know he was doing what he could and what he understood as protecting you. But it only reignited the feeling that you were a helpless human taking up the time of someone with a greater role to play. You tried to convey that you didn’t need to be pampered to this extent. He would take one look at your arm and your efforts would fall on deaf ears. 

This time, you were safely stowed away in an abandoned house near a bridge when he went off to fight another powerful Yaoguai. He’d left you frustrated, still ignoring your pleas for him to focus some energy on himself rather than you or this journey. You worried over how he hadn’t been eating or letting himself consistently rest lately. You didn’t know how he could fight while exhausted. Anxiety gripped you as you remembered how tricky this particular opponent was. 

You simmered in your worry till a cry of pain from him shot you with dread. You left your hiding place to peek out, watching his fight. You saw the Destined One get knocked back from a blow. He recovered, wiping away blood with the back of his hand. He began charging for an attack. It was a reckless charge, one that was punished before he could even land a hit. His moves were sloppy and poorly timed. You could only watch in horror as he suffered blow after blow. He was fighting distracted. As distracted as you were when someone gagged and bound you from behind. You were thrown over a shoulder and stolen from the fight. The last thing you saw before something covered your head was the Destined One on the ground, breathing heavily, covered in his own blood. 

~

You were transported well away from your companion. Your kicking and thrashing awarded you with arms bound to your ankles, but at least one bruised captor. Your ears picked up hushed voices, feet on sand, then wood, then solid ground. Eventually you heard many voices colliding in an argument and the loud crackling of a large fire. 

“This is the human monk said to grant us immortality?” One voice questioned, tone thick with doubt. 

“It does not dress like a monk nor act like one, my bruised back can attest to that!” Added another voice. 

“We already told you, this is not the same monkey!”

“How many monkeys with a staff traveling with a human have you witnessed?” 

Someone pulled the sack off of your head. Blinking in the fading light of dusk, you found yourself kneeling, surrounded by rat yaoguais of different shapes and sizes. Behind you was an abandoned sentry point. A rat guai was stationed right next to you with a large ax handle peeking from his back. In the distance you saw archers watching the entrance ways to this little camp. A bonfire roared at the very center, a fire larger than needed for any ordinary game. You swallowed beneath the cloth that covered your mouth. 

“Does this look like a virtuous monk to you?” One rat guai with a missing ear asked, pointing to you contemptuously. 

Another rat with a missing eye sneered,“How would you know what virtue looks like, you filthy adulterer?” 

A fist connected with a whiskered face. The two rat guais fell into the dirt punching, clawing, and biting. The others around the camp egged them on with fists in the air. You heard some taking bets as drunken laughter mixed in with jeers from the crowd. Your guard was yelling his own insults right next to you. You took the moment to test your bindings, frustrated to find them much too thick to tear and too tight to slip out of. 

You thought of your silent companion, fighting the rising fear that came from the last image you saw of him bleeding on the ground. You weren’t sure what dying meant to him in this world. You have yet to witness him fail to confirm anything. If he were to fall in battle would the shrines hold and restore his soul and body? Are the rules different, and if so in what way? What does death mean for the Destined One? You shook your head, forcefully ridding yourself of these thoughts. You knew just how stubborn that monkey is. He would not fall. You needed to breathe. You needed to focus. 

Escaping unnoticed was a tall, improbable order. You had a lone guard keeping an eye on you and the archers positioned around the camp wouldn’t let you get that far. You had to make a chance. An idea struck you. It was risky, but when was any plan worth trying not? 

The two fighting rat guais in front of you were still rolling in the dirt. The one eyed rat guai then pinned the other down with his knee, forcing its jaws open before spitting into its mouth. The camp erupted into a roar of approval, the winner was awarded with a passed drink. You groaned in disgust. 

“Whether or not the human grants immortality, we’d enjoy a fine feast of a rare game either way!” Cried out the one eyed rat guai. Hearty cheers of agreement rang out. You began wiggling against your constraints, speaking beneath your bondage. The rat guai behind you took notice, signaling the winner of the bout over. The rat guai, the leader you assumed, gave the signal to unbind your mouth. You breathed just a little easier. Taking a deep breath, you cleared your throat. 

“You cannot eat me,” you said, hoping your voice held an ominous tone, “The homewrecker there is right. I was to be a sacrifice to a spurned Yaoguai. My flesh does not grant immortality, but a curse.” 

Several rats exclaimed in surprise, conversations and cries of disgust spread through the group. The leader stepped close, bending down until he was looking you right in the eyes. The rank smell of alcohol and old wounds hit you. His face was covered in old scars, a part of his upper snout was missing, his one red eye watched you unblinking. You showed nothing on your face. 

“A clever lie,” he snarled, “You’re a long ways from a sacrificial altar.” 

“The monkey I travel with interrupted the ceremony and stole me away. But not before the Yaogaui placed its mark on me.” You turned your arm to him. The leader ripped off your sleeve to reveal your healing scar. The dancing firelight illuminated the worst of its features. Many gasped as several took steps back from you. Your tale made your ordinary scar into a mark of warning; you were tainted meat. The leader looked closely at your scar, you hope the expression you saw momentarily was one of hesitation. A voice spoke up from the group, making the leader turn from you.

“I told you, this wasn’t the right human,” the defeated rat from before pointed to the leader.“Would you have us feast on cursed flesh?” Cries of agreement rose from the crowd. Sides were being taken. With the possibility of a cursed meal being on the line the tensions were higher than before. 

The rat guarding you raised a question, “How do we know eating them won’t kill us?” Fear rippled through the group in waves. Some wanted you alive to be consumed, fixated on the potential of immortality. Others wanted you dead, the thought of the curse enough for them to be rid of you. Some were already done with this ordeal, ready to set you off on your way. No one could agree on what to do with you. You saw one rat push another one as debates became arguments. This was it. If one were to pick up a weapon then the rest would follow for sure. They’d tear each other apart. You could find an escape amidst the chaos.

You saw a flash of iron. Someone had picked up a sword. Anticipation turned to cold fear when you saw it slice through the air to point at you. 

“Enough!” The leader shouted above the arguing. All beady eyes turned to look at you at the pointed end of a sword. 

“Vile thing,” he spat out, angling the edge of his weapon to your throat, “full of lies and deceit. I will prove it to you, brothers. I will take a bite right on that very mark.” 

What an absolutely spectacular way for your plan to have backfired. You started moving back only to be pinned down by the rat guai behind you. Your struggles were nothing in his tight grip. Panic sent your heart into your throat. 

“Your limbs will rot off your bones, you will wish for a quick death!” You cried, but even to your ears it sounded too desperate and pitifully unconvincing. 

Your arms were chafing as you helplessly wrestled against your constraints. He opened his jaws, wide enough to take both your arm and shoulder. You saw his yellowed teeth dripping with saliva. In one quick movement, he bit down. You cried out, bracing yourself for the pain of torn flesh. It never came. 

In between the jaws of the rat leader was the end of a staff. You saw broken teeth shatter as gums oozed with blood. The rat leader was forcefully pushed back, howling in pain. The staff was then flipped before smashing against the hand that was pinning you down. The Destined One kicked the rat guard aside, dropping down from the sentry building. A protective arm shielded you while the other corrected the position of his staff. 

Relief flooded you like a newfound spring. He had been alright. He had survived his fight. He had made it to you. He spun his staff slowly, readying himself. Someone gave a battle cry. The Young Sage leapt forward.

The sloppy movements you saw earlier weren’t being seen here. He was precise yet viciously ruthless. He was tearing them apart, executing them in ways you hadn’t seen before. Jaws were being broken, bodies of rat guais were being used as shields against archers, you watched as he kicked a rat into someone else’s drawn weapon before executing them both with a blow from his staff. Their bodies dropped then disintegrated one after the other. 

He’d killed them all save for one. When he dashed to the last enemy. You finally saw his face illuminated by the firelight. Fangs bared, eyes blazing, his expression was carved into unfiltered fury. You watched as he launched himself upwards, silhouetted by the moon, he spun three times in the air with the last spin having him crash his staff down on the final rat, shattering its skull. Not even a moment before the last enemy was defeated his head flicked to you. In several quick strides he was at your side, tearing apart your restraints with his teeth. 

Unbound, your arms immediately found their way around his neck as they’ve done so many times before. Only this time, you weren’t asleep. A sob bubbled up from your throat as you buried your head into his shoulder. The terror of your life being at the end of rat guais tearing at your body was finally allowed to settle in your heart. Just above your fear, you felt elation. You were overjoyed to see him again, alive and safe. You let him go to look him over. 

“Are you alright?” You asked, tears flowing freely down your face. “Were you injured? Have you rested at a shrine?” Your hands went to his body, eyes scanning for any injuries. You were interrupted by him pulling you into a tight embrace. As you buried your face into his chest you heard him let out a long, relieved sigh which shook his frame. 

~

The moon was high as he carried you back to camp in his arms. It took a long time for him to be satisfied from inspecting you, especially with your sleeve torn and wound exposed. You didn’t object when he swept you off your feet. The whole ordeal left you completely exhausted. As he carried you, you recounted what happened with the rats to him. He seemed amused at the made up tale you fed the rats. He particularly liked the part where you said he’d taken you from an altar of sacrifice. 

“You did just steal me from a feast starring my immortal and or cursed flesh,” you said mischievously. “Who can say what I told was a complete lie?” That got a nice smile from him. 

The nights in this barren valley were quick to become cold. Brisk winds sent a shiver through you. The Destined One pulled you a bit closer to him. The waxing moon was high, you listened to the sounds of disturbed sand. In the distance, you heard the call of an owl. 

“On that bridge, when you were fighting that Acolyte,” you began, listening to his steady, rhythmic steps, “you weren’t fighting the way you usually do.” The Destined One kept his gaze forward. Realizing what you knew now made you want to cup his cheek to have him look at you. You touched your torn sleeve instead. 

“I saw what worrying about me did to you-how it,” you hesitated, “distracted you.” The Destined One’s pace didn’t falter, but from the corner of your eye you saw his tail flicking nervously behind him. 

“On any other day I would’ve scolded you, but today I don’t want to be a pot and reduce you to a kettle. If I hadn’t left the place I was hiding this may not have happened,” you took a breath, “But I was afraid…for you.” The Destined One gave you a look that made you want to roll your eyes. 

“Yes, I know of all creatures I could worry about, you should be the last of them. I know how strong you are and you’ve proven your might more than enough times but you’re not-you’re-” you steadied yourself, focusing on the way his hands tightened ever so slightly. 

You continued,“I don’t know what would happen if you were to fall in battle and I never wish to. It’s not that I believe someone as strong as you would, but the possibility of it alone terrifies me.” 

You sighed, letting out a hollow laugh, “That must be what you’ve been feeling all this time since I got hurt and why you started to treat me like a porcelain egg.” The Destined One looked at you. You watched his expression flash from concern to something closer to understanding. 

“I can promise you I won’t be doing something that foolish again. Can you promise to stop thinking the next gust of wind would shatter me?” You asked, hand nervously playing with your torn sleeve. 

The young monkey took a moment to think about it. You waited while contemplating flicking him on the head if he disagreed. Luckily for him, he did agree by giving you a nod. You smiled at him, pleased. You saw his eyes flick down to your lips. It was so fast you almost didn’t catch it. You didn’t have time to wonder if you imagined it either because in the next moment The Destined One tripped. He reacted quickly, finding his balance again as you clung to his robe. Then he straightened up and continued walking like nothing happened. 

You pressed your lips together, failing to suppress a chuckle that escaped you. You looked at your companion, seeing his fur bristle. His usual poker face simply added to the moment. He watched as you laughed, careful with his steps as he returned you to the camp. 

~

The night air had turned frigid. You warmed your hands by the fire then cupped your face to spread the warmth. It doubled as an excuse to hide your expression. With a night like this you knew you’d wake up in his arms again in the morning after your body moves on its own. A thought that filled you with mixed excitement and dread. Since the two of you had returned, you couldn’t stop thinking about what you saw while he carried you back. Your thoughts were a storm raging behind your eyes. 

You looked at your companion on the other side of the fire. The Destined One was as collected as ever, patiently mending your torn sleeve. He truly seemed fully unconcerned, content even. This made you feel even more irritated. 

You wrapped your arms around yourself, the large sleeves extending past your hands. A consequence from him not letting you lift a finger for any task, including washing clothing, was that you had nothing to wear. He’d lent you one of  his robes while he made the needed repairs. The one you were wearing had scarcely been used since he’d upgraded his armor. Even still, you could smell him on you. This thought had you cover your face again in frustration. You’ve had enough of this. 

You got up from the fire and made your way over to the Young Sage. He didn’t glance up from his task. It wasn’t unusual for you to sit next to him to talk or watch his work. You scooted closer till your legs were touching. Again, he was unperturbed. You frowned at his lack of reaction, he was much too accustomed to your proximity. You froze. Realization hitting you like a nice forceful push off a cliff. 

You revisited the mornings, countless mornings where the two of you were intertwined. You remembered nights where you would purposely try to sleep further away from him only to still wake up in his arms, flustered. You knew he was aware of you seeking him out in the night. He never did anything to stop you. No, it wasn't just that he never did anything to stop you.

The final piece slotted into place. A sly smile crept on your lips. You propped your arm onto your knee, chin resting on your hand. 

“I don’t think we’ve been honest with each other,” you said. You didn’t need to do much observation to know he’s listening. He’s always listening to you, even if his obedience could be called into question. 

“Back at the beginning of this journey, when I had joined you, there was this particularly cold night.” You watched him closely. He continued to work, but you noticed the slightest twitch of his fingers. You continued, “I remembered waking up on top of you. I crawled to you in my sleep. I didn’t mean to do it that time or all the times afterwards. I figured you were politely ignoring it for my sake.” 

The Destined one continued his task, though his tail began flicking in that nervous way it does again. You didn’t let yourself take a moment to be cautious or hesitate. Before doubt takes a hold of you, you have to keep going or else this cycle will start again. You sat up, arms crossing in front of you. 

“How many times did I go to you before you started coming to me?” 

The Young Sage froze. You saw him take a moment to think. Then he held up four digits. You flushed. Even though you were the one who asked, finally having him acknowledge it made you feel embarrassed. You shoved the feeling aside. 

“Were you worried I was cold?” You asked. He nodded, continuing where he left off with his task. You swallowed, “Was it only because you thought I was cold?” 

He paused again. You waited. Your heart was thundering in your chest so loud it echoed in your ears. You could no longer hear the crackling of the fire. Truly, this silent monkey makes you wait several eternities for every answer. Finally, the Destined One shook his head. He put down the garment and turned to look at you. You opened and closed your mouth, stuck with finding what else to say now that you had his full attention. He looked at your lips again. This time, he made sure you knew where he was looking. The two of you were moving closer together. Inches apart, you looked into his eyes. Always so kind, always so patient. But now you saw something else, something he'd been keeping well hidden. 

“This whole time,” you said, voice lowered to almost a whisper, “I thought I was imagining things.” The Destined One’s eyes were half-lidded, waiting-expecting. He was less than an inch away. The sound of your heart was deafening. You asked your last question, “Am I still imagining things?” 

Your lips met his. A gentle kiss full of nerves and hesitation. You weren’t sure who had leaned in first, it was too close to tell. Your hands clutched at his robe, the kiss deepened. His other hand cupped your face as you pulled him closer to you. He was warm and tasted like the fruit you had for dinner. He felt like everything you had imagined countless times and more. 

You pulled back first, terrified of the prospect of your heart exploding. He leaned towards you again, chasing you. This kiss was deeper, needier. He pushed you down until your back touched the ground. His hands ran through your hair, lingered on your neck, then slid down your back. Each time he touched you, you felt his nails grazing your skin sending shivers through you. He wasn’t satisfied with just your lips. Hungry nips, bites, and licks went to your neck down towards your chest which was becoming exposed as his robe slipped down your frame. One of his hands held yours, pinning you down as you squirmed and twitched beneath him. The other continued to trail down your body. Your breathing was becoming heavy, you couldn’t control the sounds your throat was making. He was greedily consuming you. It was like he’d finally found a feast after months of famine. You let out a moan as he trailed his tongue down from your chest to your stomach. This made him grip your waist tightly, nails digging a bit too deep into your flesh. You cried out in surprise. Immediately, he lets go, reminded of your delicate human body. 

He made to move further back when you held onto his wrist. “I’m okay,” you said breathlessly. What a mess you must’ve looked: face flushed, hair in disarray, wearing his clothes, and sporting his marks. In his eyes you saw that it still held that same insatiable hunger. With your meager strength you pulled him back. This time, at your request, he didn’t stop. 

~

You woke up in his arms once again before the sun had barely broken through the horizon. You rubbed your eyes, shivering in the cold, quiet morning. The Destined One, well awake, pulled you back closer to him. 

[soleilnewspaper]

Ever since Potions class…

Series masterlist

Summary: In the wake of your feelings being revealed, Sirius and Remus are forced to face the aftermath. James grows increasingly frustrated with the two and decides to play matchmaker.

Pairing: poly!wolfstar x fem!reader

Warnings: Angst, mentions of self loathing and one’s inner demons, swearing, use of Y/N.

Word count: 3.6k

AN: Okay so I’m not sure if I entirely love how this turned out but here we go. If you do enjoy this, please do all the tumblr things, reblog, like and ect!! Feedback is always welcomed and appreciated.

In the wake of your impulsive rush out of class left your classmates were left in a state of shock and amusement.

A few snickers from the group of girls situated near left wing right at the back was the Professor’s last straw. It goes without saying. Hormonal teenagers and love potions never pair well together.

“Could we perhaps return to the lesson?” Slughorn’s voice momentarily brought the classroom to a silent halt. “I highly doubt this will be on your potions exam.” He stated making sure to put extra emphasis on this in reference to the gossiping girls.

His voice fell to deaf ears as the class continued to grow louder.

“Bloody hell, do ye not have anythin’ better to do your lives?” A voice shouted from the back of the classroom causing everyone to focus on the blonde Gryffindor girl it had come from.

“Thank you for your effort, Miss McKinnon but I urge you to consider a calmer approach.”

If looks could kill, Slughorn would be done for with the way the girl was death glaring him. Yet, she had still managed to shut them all up.

Slughorn attempted to get back on topic, his patience wearing thin but he prevailed for his love for the subject outweighed it. A hand raise from Lily Evans was quick to send the man back into a warm smile as she answered the questions about the potion.

Not long afterwards the lesson fell back into place. Slughorn droning on and on about Amortentia. His words seamed to blur together for Remus. Despite his multiple attempts to focus his efforts proved unsuccessful.

The werewolf glanced down at his notes and came to the conclusion that none of it would be useful. Much of it was incoherent and jumbled together in a sea of words.

Thankfully he was not the only one struggling to understand what had transpired only moments ago. His honey brown eyes met sliver ones. Those belonging to his beloved boyfriend next to him. Who was receiving a very concerned look from one James Potter and two Peter Pettigrew.

James mouthed something to Sirius but for the life of him he couldn’t understand it. Growing more frustrated by the minute as he tried to speak to his best friend in hushed tones. Neither boy wanting to get detention, for the third time this month.

“Of for-“ The black haired boy was interrupted by the feeling of his boyfriend’s hand on his shoulder. A silent message was conveyed between the two; not here.

The class was excruciating long before the professor finally dismissed them. The walls of the dungeon seemed to feel longer than normal. That unmistakably English autumn breeze making its way through the cracks.

Students blurred together in a sea of red and green. Some rushing to their next class, others looking for a spot to spend their free period.

“Moons..” Sirius’s voice brought Remus back into reality. The elegant sound dripping with concern and undertones of confusion- no that wasn’t it - it was fear.

“Hmm, love?” Remus responded with tired eyes, and a smile which was far from being real. The werewolf wasn’t sure who he was trying to conceive, Sirius or himself.

Remus felt as Sirius hands slipped into his own. Far more gentle than usual. Public displays of affection were often very much not gentle when it came to Sirius Black. The protective nature of his presence was anything but subtle with his affections.

The two boys remained just like that for a few moments. Silent, in a crowded hallway but their eyes only remained on each other.

A chuckle escaped Remus’s lips which left Sirius frowning his brows in confusion. That confusion only intensified when his chuckle turned into a roar of laughter. Very much uncharacteristic of Remus John Lupin.

“Merlin, do you need Madam Prompery?” Sirius said with a mild grin starting to grow.

“Fuck-“ Remus put his free hand on his lover’s chest his expression betraying his serious tone. “Your cologne really is strong.”

“I hate you.”

“As if you could ever.” Remus warmth was spread into his smile. Sirius shaking his head before running a hand through his hair.

James Potter hated how his friends claimed he ‘mothered’ them to much, but in all honesty they needed it. Not so secretly he loved it.

Most recently his patience was wearing dangerously thin. Due to two of his best friends.

It had been over a month since your incident in potions class. The school had long since moved on and it was old news by now.

A fact which James was not fully content with. He had told himself that this was just the process. Remus and Sirius were dealing with it on their own terms. No need to meddle. Simple as that.

However, day by day it becomes more difficult to not meddle. Surely, they should have some reaction by now. Well, a normal reaction.

Their reactions were not what he wanted to classify as normal. First, it started with Remus using sarcasm as a coping mechanism to brush it under the rug. Then Sirius added in the combination of avoidance and lashing out.

James loved his two friends dearly. Truly, he did but they were driving him into insanity. For James Potter had an ego the size of England but a heart of gold.

So when two of his best friends continued to avoid dealing with the fact that you had feelings for them, he was granted a little lean way. Especially, since he knows they both feel the same for you.

Years of feeling unloved has undoubtedly left a mark on Sirius. Where he refuses to disrupt the balance he has created with Remus in fear it’ll all come crashing down.

Remus, on the other hand, was full of self loathing and stubbornness. Meaning he would not be admitting anything either.

Which is exactly what lead James to break his own rule of no meddling.

Sirius had just began to remove his Qudditch gear when James dragged him by the ear. Causing the rest of the team to watch in confusion as the two boys walked out of sight.

Once they reached out of earshot from the rest of the team, James let go of Sirius ear. The black haired boy’s hand instantly went to touch his ear rubbing it. While his best friend stared at him through his glasses.

“Merlin, what the hell Prongs?” Sirius asked in attempt to understand the sudden change in his mood.

“You can’t keep avoiding it.”

“Avoiding what?” Sirius frowned his brows having absolutely no clue what James was on about.

“Pads, you cannot seriously be this blind.” James dumbfounded running his hands over his face.

“Mate you’ve lost me.”

“Oh for the love of Godric.” James removed his hands from his face and took a deep breath before stepping closer towards Sirius. Placing his palms on Sirius’s shoulders.

“You. Have. Feelings. For. Y/N.” James stated drawing out every word individually.

“You. Are. Actually. Mental.” Sirius replied in the same tone James had used on him.

“Pads, I see how you look at her. I’d been be blind not to.” James voice soften as he looked into the eyes of his best friend.

“I cannot stand her.”

“No, that’s just want you’ve been telling yourself to avoid your feelings. You did the same thing with Remus.” James concurred.

“I never hated Remus.” Sirius scoffed at James’s statement.

“You’re right, you never hated Remus but you did push him away when things got to real.”

Sirius and James stared at each other for a few minutes until Sirius broke. It felt like it would last an eternity.

“Fine, I do.” Sirius shrugged Jame’s hands off his shoulders. “It’s driving me fucking crazy, alright?”

“It is all I think about most days. Not matter what I do, how hard I try, I can’t get her out of my goddamn mind. “ His voice begins to raise with every word that leaves his mouth but he didn’t stop there.

“How fucking screwed am I-that- that I can’t stop thinking about some girl when I already have most wonderful guy to ever exist. Huh?”

“You don’t think I see that. You don’t think I carry that I feel like shit every day-“ Sirius breathing became heavier with every moment that passed practically hitching after every syllable.

“Hey, hey, hey, deep breathes Pads.” James steadied Sirius holding him in place with both hands on either side of his arms. Sirius nodded in response allowing himself to calm down.

“Did you forget she smelled Remus too?” James smiled making sure to remain eye contact with Sirius.

“Course not. I’d never forget someone else smelling my boyfriend in Amortentia.”

“Siri, she has feelings for both of you. You have feelings for both of them. Is it making sense yet?”

“But what about Remus?”

“Were you dropped as a child?”

Sirius hand flew to hit his best friend lightly across the head at his comment.

“Oi, don’t hate the messenger.” James smirked before ducking his head before Sirius could land another hit. “Remus wants what you want. The two of you are just to stubborn to see the other feels the same way.”

As almost if a lightbulb went off in his head, everything became clear to Sirius. Without another word, the dark haired boy sprinted towards the library leaving James alone behind the tents.

“Thank you James for opening my eyes.” James threw his arms up into the air while intimating his best friend’s voice.

“Sure no problem.” James made his way back to the Quidditch locker rooms, mumbling incoherently under his breath.

The library was filled with the imperceptibly squeaking recognisable as the souls of Madam Pince’s shoes. The librarian’s breath felt down the hairs on the necks of students who dared touch her precious books. Outside the setting sun could be spotted in the distance. Its rays streaming through the glass windows.

A tall werewolf sat hunched over a wooden table brimming with books of all kinds. Pools of chocolate irises trained on the words displayed on the worn pages. Sandy brown waves framed his scarred face.

A gush of wind blew over the boy drawing him out of his reading. His head rose allowing his eyes to scan the room for what the cause of the wind was. A soft smile creeped up his cheeks when he spotted his beloved.

Nevertheless the smile was fleeting. Not lasting longer than a few trivial seconds before turning into a concerned frown. Sirius ‘s form darted towards Remus rapidly.

Beads of sweat dripped from his skin. A result of running directly after qudditch practice from the pitch to the library. Strands of black hair fell from his ponytail to lay around the ends of his jaw.

“Everything alright, love?” Remus asked gently. Not fully sure or ready for what would be awaiting him once Sirius decided to open his mouth.

Slowly he took a step towards Sirius, followed by a few more until he was inches away from him. Only then did he notice how his sliver eyes were glossy and red. The sight sent a shiver through Remus’s core causing chain reaction to occur.

His hands found their way to the contours of Sirius’s face. “What happened?” The hints of anger from protectiveness in Remus gentle voice told Sirius he truly had no idea what he was about to say.

“We have feelings for Y/N.” The use of we told Remus everything he needed to know. Remus pulled his brows together. Nodding his head to try to comprehend the thought.

“Okay, and we are both sure of this?” Remus conceded.

“What do we do, Rem?” Sirius breathed out, leaning into Remus’s touch. Using him as the pillar which supported him and kept him from falling apart.

“Honestly, er, communication is good, or so I’ve been told.” Remus fingers softly rubbing the sides of Sirius face in circular motions.

“Wait, hold up, when did we come to this conclusion?” Remus dropped his hands but didn’t make any move to leave Sirius’s side.

“Twenty minutes ago.”

“Right, er, well, I’m goin’ to need more than that, love.”

“Let’s just say James was involved.” Sirius explained blankly. Remus chuckled at that, imagining James in full ‘mom’ mode.

“Moons, you do feel the same, right?” Sirius interwoven his fingers with Remus’s letting his eyes fall onto them for a moment. His voice insecure now, betraying himself.

“You’re not the only one. I feel it too.” Remus hung his head low. Staring at his fingers interlocked with his boyfriend’s. “Ever since…”

“Ever since potions class.” Sirius finished his sentence for him.

“Siri, why did you not say anything before?” It was Remus’s turn to be concerned now.

“I thought you would hate me.”

“Sirius, what gave you that fucking idea?” Remus started to ready his speech he’d given his boyfriend countless times before, but then stopped, deciding this situation called for a different approach.

“You already forgave me for…well..everything..I couldn’t tell you I had feelings for someone else..” Sirius attempted to avoid Remus’s glaze, but of course he wasn’t having it. Remus used his index finger to lift Sirius’s chin to ensure he was looking at him.

“I thought I was betraying you in some way. By having feelings for someone who wasn’t you.” Remus confessed what had been lying heavily on his mind for a long time now.

“I didn’t even fully accept that I had feelings, until James forced it out of me.” Sirius let out a deep breath.

Remus closed the distance between them, wrapping his arms around Sirius who in return wrapped his own around Remus’s lanky waist.

The darkness of Sirius family name haunted him in more ways than one. Vulnerability was not something he was taught. Therefore, Remus needed to tread carefully. For he knew the consequences Sirius’s darkness could cause. Remus understood that Sirius almost never dealt well with such situations.

Remus had his own demons, which differed from the ones Sirius battled. Self loafing was Remus’s chosen method of poison. Purely created by the treatment he had seen his kind receive. The same treatment which his parents, friends and lover had sworn to protect him from.

In spite of the fact that their darkness were far from the same. The two wizards had learned to navigate through each other’s absence’s of lights.

Yet in the wake of their newfound discovery they were facing uncharted territory. Your pure existence had thrown disrupted the balance between the two of them. Yet, neither one seamed to feel any resentment towards you for it. Instead the thought of your presence only brought warmth and comfort to them both. They had known you for years, not candidly. Rather in the form of sharing classes with you or passing you in the hallway. Additionally, there was the fact that you seamed quite close with Sirius’s younger brother. That they knew to be a fact.

They did know you, they had been picking up on things about you for months. Perhaps for Sirius he had been doing so since the moment his brother invited you to their home all those summers ago.

Neither one ever thought anything would come from it, which is why they denied any interest in you. Not that anyone had ever thought there was to begin with.

With heads hung low and fingers intertwined, Sirius and Remus entered their shared dorm.

James was in the midst of writing an essay for charms class. His reasoning for leaving said essay to the last minute was the pressure would advance his argument. Pranking first years with Sirius three days ago had nothing to do with it.

The sound of water coming from the faucet indicated that Peter had taken the chance to shower.

Sirius padded over to his empty bed and let himself fall back onto the red blanket. Laying flat on his back with his feet dangling off.

Remus began to untie his tie feeling a relief when he was able to undo his top button. Exchanging his robes for a sweater and comfortable loose fitting pants which hung low on his hips.

James peered through his glasses to see for any indication that his efforts had been successful.

“I take it you two talked?” James temporarily turned his attention away from his essay. He would pull an all nighter if it meant his friends were happy.

A nod from Remus and a grunt from Sirius were the only responses he received.

“We’re still deciding what our next steps are.” Remus sighed leaning against one of the pillars of his bed.

“Our lives are fucking screwed.” Sirius mumbled into his pillow.

“Okay, that’s a tad dramatic.” Remus moved to sit by the foot of Sirius bed. Moving his legs to lay them on his lap.

“Here’s a thought.” James began, making sure both boys were listening before continuing. “Talk to her.”

“Got any other ideas?” Sirius raised his head from the pillow to side glance James earning himself a disapproving head shake.

James lounged forward on the sheets of his bed to grab the nearest pillow which was sent flying to Sirius’s head.

“Oh Godric, OH GODRIC.” James sudden outburst caused Remus to raise an eyebrow.

“Must I do everything for you, then?” James stood up from his bed planting himself in the centre of the room with hands on his hips.

It had never been your intention to come between a couple. Nor did you ever hope to be the cause of any issues in a relationship.

You had actively planned to get over your feelings for Sirius and Remus. Yet, they only grew more than you could have ever imagined.

In order to try move on you avoided Remus at every available opportunity. While you annoyed Sirius beyond expectation making him hate you. Which in turn made you somehow convince yourself you hated him.

Neither fact was true. You did not hate Sirius nor did he hate you. Both of you were just trying to ignore what you felt for each other.

Even so, your avoidance of Remus never proved successful. Your heart longed for him as much as it did for his boyfriend.

Thankfully, you had thought no one had noticed your growing infatuation with them. Then, potions class happened. Now everyone knew.

Avoidance had proved again to be your saving grace. You honestly do not know how you would have survived the week without it. Skipping classes might have been detrimental to your overall grade but it was a cost you were willing to take. For the time being, anyway.

The only problem was when you avoided them your friends grew increasingly suspicious of your intentions. Particularly Regulus, who had heard in passing about your ‘incident’.

You missed being able to stare at them in hallways when no one was looking. Or watch the way they laughed with their friends in the great hall.

Unknowingly to you, the boys had been trying to track you down all day. They could not go to your dorm because you resided in a different house to them. House members would undoubtedly become suspicious if word spread of the two attempting to find a way into your dormitory this morning.

Remus made the suggestion to entrust the guidance of your friends. Sirius opposed the idea as one of your friends including Regulus.

Luckily, fate had other plans for the three of you.

After a long day full of classes you could hardly wait to return to the tranquility only your dorm could offer.

The moment your eyes met the sliver and brown hues of your favourite boys. You gave up on tranquility entirely.

Every instinct streamed at you to run away. If it hadn’t been for Sirius, you would have listened to them.

“Y/N!” Sirius called out to you, as if you could ignore him now.

“Hello Sirius.” You offered some general decently, it was the least you could do, you thought. “And hi to you Remus.”

“Could we please talk?” Remus’s voice was timid, more so than you had ever heard before.

“Listen, I truly am sorry for what happened. Please know that I don’t expect anything from either one of you-“

“Stop, Y/N, could you let us speak please?” Remus’s voice warmed your ears more than you liked. That voice could fix anything you thought. You offered a small nod in response to his ask.

“Rem and I, we’ve-well…you see..fuck. God, why is this so hard, okay. I-we wanted you to know that..have feelings for you!” Sirius barely managed to get out his sentence before he blurted it out point blank.

“Excuse me?” Your eyes widened in complete and utter shock. This was not at all what you were expecting.

“Both of us. When you smelled us in the Amortentia, it got us thinking-and-well we realised that we both share feelings for you.” Remus explained more gently than Sirius, emphasising his syllables.

“What does this mean?” You chocked out.

Sirius and Remus exchanged looks sharing a message between themselves which left you feeling more despondent.

“We did some research, well, Remus did and I consulted James and Lily.” Sirius stated, choosing to use the word consulted instead of admit that Lily and James had been piecing it together for him for the last few days.

Remus waited for you to give any indication that you still felt comfortable before he continued for Sirius. A simple head nod from you gave him the reassurance he needed.

“Are you aware of the term polyamory?” Remus asked you gently, bringing his hands together before himself.

“I’ve heard of it, yes.” Your voice took on a different tone as you continued to feel confused by the boy’s actions.

“Well, we want to try it, with you, I mean.” Sirius breathed out.

“What he means is, if you’re open to it of course. We were wondering how you would feel being a third in our relationship.” Remus stepped towards you, leaving little to no distance between him and you.

Remus’ honey brown eyes shimmed with affection. Though you weren’t quite sure who it was meant for.

Sirius’ head cocked to the side ever so slightly resembling that of a lost puppy. Dark hair falling in disarray. Whilst Remus kept his focus on you. Resisting the urge to take your fingers into his own.

They both desperately awaited your response.

Taglist: @maraudersforlife2005, @h3arts4strs

If you would like to be added to the taglist, please tell me in the comments!! Thank you lovelies 💗💗💗

[qinhayuu]

𝓫𝓾𝓽 𝓪𝓫𝓸𝓿𝓮 𝓪𝓵𝓵, 𝔂𝓸𝓾﹒𝜗𝜚 ﾟ ˖

wriothesley x gn!reader ⋆ sfw — fluff ﾉ 0.5k wc ⋆ established relationship ﾉ wrio calls you baby + darling

“wrio?”

“yeah, baby?”

“if…” you look down abashedly, shuffling your feet.

“if?” your boyfriend urges.

“i— you’re gonna think it’s a silly question.”

“no such thing. c’mon baby, please tell me?”

and how could you ever say no to that soft tone of his? especially when you tentatively raise your head and meet your boyfriend’s adoring gaze.

you close your eyes and take a deep breath. “alright, fine. if you had to choose between me or the world, what— which would you choose? which one would you save?” your voice trails off and you decide you find the piece of tile wriothesley’s standing on quite captivating, suddenly unable to meet his eyes. you watch his boots move forward until the toes of your shoes are nearly touching.

“darling, look at me.”

he knows your tells well, that boy.

wriothesley huffs out a soft breath, tinged with amusement, and raises a hand to cup your cheek. the warmth of his rough hand against your skin grounds you and you let yourself lean into him, let him tilt your head up, let your eyes find their home in his. a smile plays at the corner of his mouth.

“i’d save you,” he murmurs, “of course i would.”

his thumb smooths over the lift of your cheek, other hand reaching out to hold yours.

“perhaps it’s selfish of me to neglect the world, especially when i’m charged with protecting the part of it here in the fortress, but i can’t find it in myself to care.”

he brings your hand to his chest, resting his hand atop yours over his heart. your fingers curl ever so slightly into the fabric of his vest, and though you can’t quite feel his heartbeat through his clothing, you’ve spent enough nights cuddled into his chest to have memorized the rhythm of his heart.

“because i value you above anything and everything else in the world. because the world doesn’t exist without you lighting it up. or— it does, but nothing has any meaning. not to me, at least.”

your heart beats in time with his.

“as long as i’m with you, i can face anything. as long as you’re with me, i know i’ll be just fine. whatever disaster befalls the world, i think everything would be okay if i just had you in my arms.”

there’s more he wants to say but the words get stuck in his throat, make his tongue feel like sandpaper in his mouth. he swallows harshly. he can’t bring himself to voice those thoughts just yet, but he hopes the kiss he presses to your forehead manages to convey a modicum of those feelings.

you hold the world in your palms. everything i’ve been looking for i find in you — all the comfort i’ve ever wanted and all the comfort i never knew i needed. being with you is like coming home. i couldn’t bear a life without you by my side, helping me through it all; i feel myself coming apart at the seams just thinking about it.

he rests his forehead against yours, gaze so tender your heart aches.

“you see? you are my world.”

[minkdelovely]

love and power

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chapter six

“the more that you give away the more that you have.”

Alastor x Fem!Reader ; MDNI 18+ ; [y/n] used sparingly ; Alias in Hell is Sylvie

tags/warnings: diet codependency (doesn’t quench the thirst), mentions: blood play; biting, slow burn eventual: smut

word count: 3.2k

author’s note: don’t get too excited over the tags lol but we’re kicking things into gear cherished ones. i’m unsure how many chapters are left but i’d like to aim for ten (total; i’m low-key flying by the seat of my pants) but fire is starting to catch as we close in on our journey. thank you for sticking with me on this, i hope it’s been as fun for you as it has been for me and that my gratitude is properly conveyed in this chapter ❤️‍🔥

prelude ; chapter one ; chapter two ; chapter three ; chapter four ; chapter five ; chapter six ; chapter seven ; chapter eight ; chapter nine ; chapter ten: part one ; chapter ten: part two

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Watching Alastor leave the hotel without you felt… strange. When he passed through the door you half expected to feel that invisible tugging at your neck, beckoning you to follow, but it never came. Leaving you unsure how to deal with the level of disappointment you felt at its absence. All you hoped was that he couldn’t see it in your eyes when he turned to give you a final smile before walking down the entrance stairs.

It had turned out to be quite the morning, just not in the way you had expected. Alastor told you about how your afternoons were to be spent over his breakfast, not the least bit apologetic for springing it on you at the last minute in spite of knowing since yesterday. A couple things clicked into place with this knowledge, like your conversation at the cafe. Just as you had suspected, what you had ended up talking about had nothing to do with the important things he had sat you down for.

That’s what he meant when he said he had a busy morning, you thought as you watched him pick at his food, looking less and less like the wraith you had seen the night before. You had used the phrase duality of man as a joke in your mortal life, but Alastor set quite a bar for it. Despite the short amount of time you’ve spent with him, you really had managed to learn a lot about him. A goal of yours that seemed to be… shifting.

What had been born from a place of survival was now skirting the lines of fascination. A discomfort settled in you as you realized this, knowing that you were drifting into dangerous territory. Developing a fascination — you couldn’t admit to another word yet — with Alastor wasn’t smart for a lot of reasons. He owned you, for starters. Not that you’d have ever been on even ground with someone of his status, but knowing you were literally at his beck and call… It was hard grappling with that. 

Your grandmother had been such a terror, the expectations she had of you impossible to obtain. Whether she blamed you for your mother’s death or if she would have treated you the way she did regardless was something you’d never know. But you thought you were done being pushed around and forced into boxes you didn’t fit when you went through with your plan to murder her. Turned a new leaf, as they say. 

Yet here you were, with not even a little bit of resentment towards your keeper. He annoyed you with his antics, sure, but you found yourself to be more fond of him than you had expected to be. Hell, you even took extra care making his bed every day despite knowing he didn’t sleep in it — it would’ve done no good to have him catching on that you knew he was just messing up the sheets. You were surprisingly reluctant to put his bed back in order this morning, wanting to preserve its state for as long as you could, burning the image of it to your memory. Even though they were still relatively neat, the slept-in sheets were a peek behind the curtain; another facet of him for you to collect.

The seemingly ever-present lump in your throat creeped up again, sending a tingling jolt through your body at this thought. Fondness, fascination. It had been a very long time since you had attached words like these to someone, and even then it wasn’t something you felt very often applied to anything past friendship. What little friends you had, anyway, preferring a small circle over a plethora.

You had experienced some romance in your life, but nothing longstanding. Flings might be a better word, comprised mostly of the usual dinner and a movie followed by some backseat fumbling. Living with your grandmother didn’t exactly present the option of bringing someone back to your room. And it was fun while it lasted but the payoff had never felt worth it in the end. You were more grateful for the distraction it provided from home than anything else. A lot of the time it just felt like another personality to juggle that you simply hadn’t the energy for.

But was this really something you were beginning to feel towards the Radio Demon? Or were you merely clinging to the twisted sense of stability he represented? Wanting to struggle against him to maintain as much autonomy as you could, or surrender? 

The memory of how Alastor had held your face in his hand surfaced then. How his eyes had been heavy with a desire you couldn’t pinpoint, the way your skin burned under the pad of his thumb. How, somewhere under the fear and exhaustion, you had been thrilled watching him taste the blood off your face. Your chest was tight again, breath shallow as your fingertips ghosted over that spot on your cheek.

Fuck.

You wanted to rip your hair out, the desire to run after him growing stronger with every step you saw him taking towards the city battling against your own self-worth. You wouldn’t go after him of course, not only because it would be pathetic but you knew he would be disappointed and quite possibly repulsed if you did. Neither were things you wished to be associated with in his opinion of you or yourself. Though in this moment, all you could feel in regard to yourself was disgrace. 

If someone had told you any of this a week ago, you would’ve balked at the idea. Actually wanting to please and follow Alastor around like a well-trained dog? Until quite recently you had looked forward to any time you could finally spend alone, but here you were, apparently counting the seconds until he returned home. 

Get a fucking grip, you scolded yourself, inhaling deeply through your nose as you forced yourself to make your way back upstairs to change clothes.

Group activities would be starting in an hour, and it wouldn’t do any good to be fretting over whatever Alastor was up to. Above your pay grade, remember? Remembering what a snide bitch he could be soothed you, the irritation you felt towards his words from earlier reassuring. Though your meaning couldn’t be more different from his, you wanted to believe that you weren’t totally hopeless. The erratic heartbeat under your ribcage begged to differ.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Alastor never imagined that he’d be sick of heading to Cannibal Town, but there was a first time for everything. It was a novelty he might have actually appreciated under different circumstances. Valentino aside, his days were beginning to feel a bit too repetitive for his liking. Perhaps this meeting could end up being a blessing in disguise, a way for him to defuse some of the restlessness he was feeling.

He had to admit, your absence was… noticeable. Not that you could ever take its place, but having the option to take your arm had been a nice substitute for his microphone when his hand was feeling empty. As if to taunt him, his fist clenched with a nervous twitch, reminding him there was nothing to do with it other than keep it behind his back. Irksome.

The way you lingered around him before his departure hadn’t gone unnoticed, either, something he was unsure you wanted him to know or not. Though there was nothing you could really hide from him, not anymore. Alastor was now very in tune with the way your scent changed based on how you were feeling. It had been particularly strong and floral today, to the point where it still burned his nostrils with a pleasant ache. A keepsake, of sorts. How generous.

Even without that, it was obvious you had wanted to join him on this excursion. There was a sincerity in your ever-pouty face that was actually quite endearing. Still not a fan of frowns, Alastor was beginning to understand that it was your mask, intentional or otherwise, just as the smile was his. His original goal to strip it from you would probably never come to fruition with this revelation and he sighed, though not from disappointment. It was nice to be kept on one’s toes, after all, and he had already made the decision to find new ways to provoke you.

That’s not to say that he didn’t still wish to see what was hiding underneath that gray cloud you took shelter under. The few breakthroughs he’d glimpsed so far had been delightful. Getting you to murder someone wouldn’t work… though that wasn’t off the table. He’d just prefer you to want it; force wasn’t a measure he was willing to take in that regard, there was no satisfaction to be found in it that way. And so by extension, was getting you to indulge in a new eating habit. He hadn’t given up on that, either; he wasn’t lying when he said he thought you’d enjoy it under the right circumstance. 

Something came to mind and passed as quickly as it appeared, shocking him despite coming from some recess of his own imagination. The taste of blood was on his tongue from where he bit the inside of his own lip, and he relished the coppery tang, delight coating him thick as honey as he tentatively explored the thought. His ears twitched low as his horns grew just the smallest bit and he cleared his throat to calm down. Alastor wasn’t one to just lose his composure on the sidewalk.

Perhaps, he thought to himself, though with some hesitance. Alastor was always taken by surprise whenever his mind conjured up anything he considered to be salacious. But this sudden inspiration fell under same qualifications as his previous idea, if not under an even stricter sense. That was something you definitively needed to want, being it was something he very, very rarely desired to give. 

And what was it about you that made him want to? Clearly, some small part of him did. Had it just been too long and you happened to be an option now that this feeling was rearing its ugly head again? No. Alastor was too… picky to just choose someone out of convenience. He was unashamed to admit he had standards when it came to this. In fact, he felt the real issue at hand was that too many sinners didn’t, fucking anything that breathed with abandon.

His pulse jumped at the word: fucking. Was that even what he wanted? It would be enough just to have you taste him, bite into the flesh of his wrist and lap away at the blood that eagerly pooled to the surface. If you earned it, of course. As mentioned, his body wasn’t something he offered up on a whim to just anyone. But the thought of you enjoying it, unraveling at the feeling he hoped to inspire in you, your sullen face relaxed in the throes of pleasure in the taboo. His mind was racing now, running away with the fantasy as it so often did in these uncommon moments. 

What sounds could he illicit from you? He nearly bit through his tongue, thinking on the satisfaction it would bring to hear your voice, normally tinged with some level of sass, pleading and heady in his ears. How would you taste in his mouth — clean and tart, rich and sweet? What would you smell like, blooming under the touch of his mouth and hands? 

It wasn’t prudent of him to get swept up in this daydream, knowing the caveat to any of it being your willingness to partake. And he’d sooner face Adam’s axe again than ask, at least not without the inclination of acquiescence, which at this point was unknown to him. Uncharted waters.

Alastor hadn’t noticed that there was a sizable diameter of empty space between him and any other demon who happened to be walking by; rightfully threatened by the hungry look in his eyes, the tautness of his fanged smile, and the static that was crackling in the air around him as he approached the dry cleaners.

Thankfully he still had a bit of time to kill before Valentino arrived, needing every second he could get to center himself before their meeting. Were it not for his gloves, his clawed fingers would’ve easily punctured the soft skin of his palms, he was so wound up. But it was invigorating, this little idea of his, already feeling the ache ebb away as he shelved it for safe keeping. Only time would tell when he could dust it off.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

The afternoon had actually been… fun.

It had been a long time since you had experienced that, feeling a little ridiculous now as you lounged on your bed, thinking back on how nervous you had been to be roped into the daily activity with everyone. Charlie had obviously lead the charge, but the whole group had made you feel very welcome. Niffty had even sat next to you the entire time, her approval something you were unaware you were even wanting but now grateful to have. She was actually really charming.

Since it was your first time, it was mostly story-telling and introductions for your sake. It was clear they were a tight-knit bunch, and you found yourself hoping to find a place in their little circle. That seemed to be your theme for the day; seeing where you stand, fitting in. But it felt nice to open up, divulging bits and pieces of yourself to your housemates. You hadn’t realized how much you missed being part of a group, gossiping and sharing anecdotes. 

You told them about the accounting job you had, well-paying but boring all the same, which you didn’t think you minded at the time. Looking back, it really was just for a paycheck. There was no passion in your heart for it, and it was downright mayhem during tax season. Vaggie joked that she would be keeping this in mind when the need arose for bookkeeping, with you quipping back about cruel and unusual punishment.

A knock at the door interrupted your reverie, and you got up to answer it, opening your door to Alastor’s smiling face. The brief moment of butterflies you felt faded when you noticed the tired look in his eyes. You weren’t sure what mood you were expecting him to come back in, but you knew he had something on his mind. Beyond fetching you to perform chores — which he rarely did anyway, preferring that you came to him — what else would he stop by your room for than to deliver some kind of news?

He swept over you, no doubt picking your outfit apart all the way down to your bare feet. You were well aware that the cardigan and slip dress didn’t exactly fit into his definition of put together. Frankly, you were surprised Alastor didn’t force you to wear a corset under your uniform, a complaint you wisely kept to yourself for fear of giving him ideas. But for this, you couldn’t bring yourself to care, relishing the sparse opportunities you had to be in your own comfortable clothes; the v-shaped neckline of the dress allowing your poor décolletage to get some much-needed air. Besides, what could he really say? You were technically off the clock.

“May I come in?” he asked with a jarring sobriety, the absence of his radio filter giving you a chill. This wouldn’t be like the tête-à-tête you had this morning on the balcony. 

You simply moved out of the way, giving him the space to enter your room before closing the door behind you, keeping your attention on him as he stood with his back to you. Alastor’s shoulders moved as he took a breath, his expression concealed as his head fell back, looking to the ceiling as he exhaled.

He maintained this position as he spoke. “I’m afraid I must ask something of you, Sylvie. It won’t be dangerous, but it won’t be pleasant, either.”

There it was again, the illusion of choice. Why did he keep presenting things to you this way when he didn’t need to? Not that it upset you, it was a polite gesture after all, but well… He beckoned, you came running. Was it smart to be so willing to do his bidding? No. But after Angel talked a little about the way Valentino treats him — which he seemed to handle with a bravery you could only hope to have a portion of — you knew there was a level of safety that came with belonging to Alastor. Certain lines he simply wouldn’t cross out of duty to himself, resulting in a strange benevolence for you.

“What is it?” You were surprised at the calm in your voice. 

Alastor seemed to be too, his ear flicking at the sound before finally turning to look at you. The soft expression on his face sent blood rushing to your cheeks. You could almost mistake it for pride. Toward you. A burden you weren’t prepared to handle, apparently. A small sigh escaped him as he closed the gap between you and he absently picked at the shoulder of your cardigan, pinching the soft fabric in his fingers as he worked through what he was going to say next. For your part, you just tried to keep your breathing even and your hands to yourself. 

He released you, smirking without his usual venom but still with that strained look in his eye. The fraction of instinct you had that still worked told you that this wasn’t good, but you had a hard time letting that sink in the way it should, too distracted by the charge in the air between you.

“I met with Valentino today,” he said quietly, giving you a small, knowing smile as your brows knit together in concern. “He wants to meet you, in two days. As of right now that’s all it is but he’s reserved the right to make a final decision on what he wants once he speaks with you,” he practically choked on the words, anger nipping at the edge of his voice as he continued, “And there were certain… concessions that had to be made, given the circumstances. Proud as I am at what you did, I can also appreciate certain aspects of Valentino wanting reparation.”

You felt like a toddler being scolded for acting up in front of company, unable to stop yourself from looking away from him, embarrassment blending into your fear. He wasn’t wrong though, and you always had a feeling you would need to make up for what you did to Donny somehow. Meeting with Valentino was the least you could do, guilt already eating away at you for the position you had put Alastor in. No wonder he had been so upset last night…

“Will you be with me, at least?”

The question was out before you could stop it, the blush on your cheeks threatening to melt your face it was so hot with shame. Alastor huffed a laugh, the mischief returning to his eyes in a way that made you feel dizzy. 

“I’m afraid I don’t elaborate on stupid questions.”

Maybe it was the low timbre of his voice, or the familiarity of his smug grin when he knew he had denied you something. But the irritation you typically felt when he spoke to you this way was nowhere to be found, your brain practically empty with the exception of one thing. 

I’m so… fucked.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧     ✧     ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

tag list: @fairyv-ice, @wat4r, @midorichoco, @raynerrold, @krak-jj, @tremendoushearttaco

[dark-frosted-heart]

He Doesn’t Know That I Turned into an Animal - Roger Barel (Premium End)

As usual, can’t guarantee 100% accuracy on this. None of my translations are proofread until a day after posting

Roger: Can you follow this scent too?

Roger held out a white handkerchief to me.

(This is the handkerchief I lent to Roger on a mission…!)

(Could it be that the one he’s looking for is me…?)

Roger: I have sharp ears, so I was listening for the voice of this handkerchief’s owner, as well as her heartbeat and footsteps. But I haven't been able to hear anything. So…please. Help me find her.

(Last night you were listening for me…)

(Why did I assume that he wouldn’t?)

(I want to tell him that I’m right here since he’s so worried about me!)

I led Roger to my room.

Roger: The scent led you to this room?

Kate: Arf! (Yes!)

Roger: …Any clue where she went after?

I made laps around my room. I wanted to convey to Roger that the scent couldn’t be traced out of this room.

Roger: You’re telling me that Kate never left her room…? No…that’s not right. She left without anyone noticing?

(Yes! You’re doing great, Roger!)

I’ve been wondering about how I ended up like this, but…

I think the cause was me touching some kind of chemical while cleaning up the infirmary.

The things Roger researches range from useful to questionable.

The fact that he had a drug that could turn a person to an animal shouldn’t be a surprise.

(Since Roger’s the one that manages the drugs, he should be aware of the possibility of me turning into a corgi…!)

Roger: …Like if she could disappear like Liam, or transform, then no one would notice her.

(You’re pretty sharp, Roger…!)

Roger: As an animal, the lil’ lady wouldn’t be able to say anything or call for help…

(You’re getting there, Roger!!)

Roger: And then a cute female corgi just so happens to show up… Meaning you’re— 

Kate: Arf! (I’m Kate!)

I met Roger’s eyes and barked to make it sink in. However…

Roger: … No, that’s impossible…

Roger looked away from me, throwing the answer he worked toward out.

Roger: This is bad. I don’t have a clue.

(You’re kidding me…All that work and you’re not putting it together?!)

From experience, I knew Roger was knowledgeable and open-minded.

Normally it’s impossible to turn into an animal, but I thought he’d consider it.

(How do I tell you…?)

Roger: Hmm… I should write down what I know so that I can find Kate…

Roger took out a notepad from his pocket and started writing things down.

Maybe he was writing down things he noticed while looking for me.

(...It felt like Roger was analyzing things just then, but maybe I was imagining things?)

(In any case…I can’t give up! I’ll keep trying until I get through to Roger!)

And so I used all of my corgi brain power…

I tried to tell Roger that this corgi was Kate.

I tried to use the typewriter… (My dog paws were too big)

I tried to use the piano to show that I was human inside… (William praised me for being a genius, though as a dog)

I tried to show the mystery novel where people and animals swapped places… (Harrison tossed me out his room)

After numerous failed attempts, the sun set— 

By the time I returned to the infirmary, I was completely exhausted.

(What can I do…)

Ale: Arf? (What’re you trying so hard for?)

Kate: Awoo…(I want to tell Roger that I���m Kate…)

Ale: Woof woof? (That guy can’t understand us though?) …Woof, woof (...Sometimes Roger gives me a sad smile)

(Huh…?)

Ale: Awoo…(Maybe he still thinks about how he couldn’t wake my previous owner up) Woof, woof? (I enjoy being with Roger, but I can’t tell him that you know?)

Kate: Woof… (Ale…)

(Until now, I’ve always thought that it was important to deliver people’s thoughts and feelings. But as a fairytale keeper…)

(...I’m now in a position where I can’t no matter what I try, so I understand the pain better now) 

Ale: Woof! (There’s no point in moping. Let’s eat some snacks!)

(Snacks…?)

Ale: Arf? (Hey Roger, what do you have there? In your pocket!) Woof… (It’s been rustling for a while now…)

What Roger’s been repeatedly taking out of his pocket was just a notepad.

Every time I did something, Roger would take it out and jot something down.

Ale: Woof?! Woof! (Do you have tasty treats in your pocket?! Give it here!)

It seemed that Ale mistook Roger’s notepad for a treat or something.

Suddenly, Ale jumped high and the notepad fell out of Roger’s pocket.

Roger: Ah, Ale!

Ale: Woof… (What the…This isn’t a treat…)

The notepad fell open on a page…and I happened to catch what was written on it.

“Animal transformation curse observation record…Subject: Kate”

And then the page turned thanks to Ale’s paw touching the notepad.

(...Hm?! This…)

“She understands human speech, but can’t speak due to having a dog’s vocal chords.”

“To reveal her identity, she played the piano and tried to show me a novel. She’s kept her memories from when she was human.”

His notes were filled with information related to me as an animal.

Kate: Arf…? (Roger…?)

I stared hard at Roger and quickly put his notepad away.

Kate: Arf! Arf?! (This! This is my record, isn’t it?!)

Roger: Ah…You saw, lil’ lady?

Kate: Arf! Arf?! (Just now! Did you say “lil’ lady”?!) Grrr…(You noticed that I’m Kate, didn’t you…!)

Roger: Can’t understand what you’re saying, but I know you’re angry.

Kate: Arf! (Explain!)

Roger: You probably want an explanation now?

Roger sat down on a chair in the infirmary and began his explanation.

Roger: I didn’t notice that you turned into a dog until this morning. When you led me to your room after smelling the handkerchief… That’s when I finally realized that you might be a dog.

~~ Flashback ~~

Roger: As an animal, the lil’ lady wouldn’t be able to say anything or call for help…

(You’re getting there, Roger!!)

Roger: And then a cute female corgi just so happens to show up… Meaning you’re— 

Kate: Arf! (I’m Kate!)

Roger: No, that’s impossible…

~~ Flashback end ~~

(You did notice at that time…?!)

Roger: …This is probably why you became a dog)

Roger fetched a green bottle from a shelf.

Roger: This bottle has a “become whatever animal you want to be” drug. But…it was leaking because of a crack on the bottom, so you probably touched that while cleaning.

Kate: Woof…(Yeah…)

Roger: Also, I have a guess on how to turn you back. With a kiss…

(K-kiss…?)

Roger: Like in the fairy tales you know? A curse is broken with a kiss.

(If you knew that, then why…)

Roger: Why didn’t I turn you back immediately? So that I could study you, of course.

Those words reminded me of how Roger acted this morning.

~~ Flashback ~~

Roger: This is bad. I lue. Hmm…I should write down what I know so that I can find Kate…

~~ End flashback ~~

(At the time, I thought Roger’s tone was analytical…)

(I can’t believe you were pretending to take notes to find me when you were really just writing down your observations…!)

If Ale hadn’t jumped and Roger hadn’t dropped his notepad…

I would never have known.

Kate: Grr…Yip! Yip! (You…mad scientist! Egoist!)

Roger: What’d you expect me to do? It would've been such a waste to turn a valuable research subject back so soon. But I’ve done enough research for now, and I miss your human form. Shall we turn you back?

Kate: Grrrr…! (You’re the worst…!)

It’s true that Roger looked hard for me before realizing who I was.

Last night, he looked so serious while listening for me.

(But…that’s besides the point!)

(I worked so hard to make you realize who I was so it’s right for me to be angry that he decided to use me as a research subject!)

Ale: Woof…? (I don’t know what’s happening, but is it Roger’s fault?) Arf! (In that case, go all out!)

(Go all out…Yeah, let’s do that!)

Following what Ale said, I jumped onto Roger’s lap—

Roger: !

I kissed Roger on the lips.

I didn’t do this for Roger, but because I wanted things to go back to normal, but…

Maybe because I wasn’t used to having a corgi body, I only touched the corner of his lips.

I doubt this could be called a kiss.

(Will this really turn me back…? …Ah)

At that moment, my body grew hot…The corgi body started to shift.

Kate: Finally! I’m back…!

Roger: Ah…Lil’ lady, I don’t wanna say this, but…

Roger’s gaze on my body made me realize that I was naked.

Kate: D-don’t look!

I quickly wrapped myself in a blanket and huddled a corner of the infirmary.

Kate: Will you take responsibility for making me your research subject and bring me some clothes?

Roger: Yeah, no problem. But… Is that what all?

Roger pointed at my head and my body that was hidden by the blanket.

Kate: …? What do you mean— 

I casually touched the spot on my head that he was pointing to…And froze.

There was something coming out of my head that shouldn’t have been there.

Kate: W-what is this?!

I borrowed a mirror to check…

I still had corgi ears on my head and a short corgi tail on my butt.

Roger: Maybe because it wasn't a full kiss so it wasn’t a complete transformation. This really is interesting.

Kate: No way…! How do I turn back completely?!

Roger: Why not kiss me again?

Kate: It doesn’t have to be you, does it? All I need is a kiss.

Roger: If that person loves you, then it’s no problem.

Kate: Love…

Roger: Actually it has to do with the area of contact, the duration, and saliva composition… A loving, passionate kiss should do just the trick. A loving kiss is what breaks the curse in a fairytale after all.

(If that’s the case, then the half-hearted kiss only undid part of the transformation…)

Kate: Roger…do you…l-love me?

I felt oddly embarrassed asking that, and my voice was shaky.

Roger: Of course I do. You were so cute as a corgi.

Roger’s answer wasn’t really what I wanted to hear.

He probably knew what I was really asking and dodged the question on purpose.

Roger: Is that all you wanted to ask? Then go ahead and kiss someone else?

Kate: …

I was angry with Roger for knowing who I was but not saying anything about it because of research.

That’s why I wanted to kiss someone besides him…

(...Why can’t I move my legs?)

Roger: Just so you know… If you leave this room with those cute corgi ears and tail, you’re gonna run into some troublesome men. Not everyone in this castle’s a gentleman. Since research’s my priority, it’d be safer to kiss me.

Kate: Why are you saying stuff to make me stay?

Roger: It doesn’t feel good watching someone you’re fond of wagging their tail for someone else. It’s only natural.

(I can’t take this anymore…)

(I should be angry with Roger, but more than that…)

(I really want to kiss him)

Surely this was just an after-effect of Roger doting on me when I was a dog…

That’s what I told myself.

Kate: Okay… Since you took care of me while I was a dog, I’ll take care of you.

Roger: That so? Thanks.

The moment I saw Roger’s satisfied smile, my tail started wagging under the sheet.

(What am I so happy for!?)

Roger: But before a kiss to turn you back— —Let me do a thorough examination of your body.

[heretoobsessstuff]

Soooo I have a WIP i’ve been writing for a little while in which Gale is emotionally repressed and Bucky has a complicated relationship with him crying. Here’s a snippet:

The first time Bucky ever saw Gale cry, truly cry, was when they were in Stalag. Gale was there when the gates opened and he walked in. He held Bucky up as he wavered on his feet, arms wrapping around his waist and bearing most of his weight as he walked him to the cots. Bucky felt strong tremors running through Gale’s body as they moved in sync. They had barely said a word to each other but Bucky couldn’t think of anything to say that would convey what he was feeling then. He couldn’t look away from Gale as he walked down the narrow hallway and helped deposit Bucky on the chair gently. That whole afternoon had been a blur of pain, exhaustion and Gale. He hadn’t manage to look away from Gale for a single second. Eyes following his every move as he fussed over Bucky and wet a cloth to rub at his face gently. Gale remained calm and collected. Threw Bucky gentle smiles and held him tightly when they hugged. Bucky saw his eyes fill with water multiple times as he told him about what he had gone through but no tears fell. He had held it together with strength, wiped Bucky’s own tears away and assured him he’ll be okay and that they’re gonna make it out. He sat beside him all night, waking him up periodically to make sure he was still alive. Laid wet cloths on his forehead as he fought the fever. Hand never leaving Bucky’s own.

During the second night, when Bucky was barely lucid with fever, he had opened his eyes to see Gale with his head resting where he was holding Bucky’s hand in his own. “You got to fight this John” Gale whispered into their linked fingers. “Thought I lost you once. Can’t do it again” Bucky was about to turn and tell him he’s alright and that Gale needs to go to bed because his back was going to kill him in the morning with the way he was crouching like that. But he fell silent in shock as he felt moisture on his knuckles. Gale was crying silently against his hand. His breathes left him in quiet huffs as he held on to Bucky. Tears falling drop by drop. Bucky felt helpless as he squeezed his eyes shut. Felt his own eyes burning as the wave of emotions hit him like a freight train. It felt surreal to witness this. To witness Gale crying. Crying over him. Years of wondering what would make Gale break and in the end, it had been him. It filled him with shameful hope. Hope that maybe what Gale felt for him was more than just a friendship. I thought I lost you too. He thought but he had told Gale that already it feels like a privilege to feel your tears on my hands. He remained silent. Gale obviously thought Bucky is asleep so he refused to interrupt Gale’s private moment with useless words. He didn’t want Gale to put on that mask back on have to pretend he’s fine for Bucky’s sake so he just pretended to sleep. He kept his grip on Gale’s fingers strong, though. His thumb rubbed soothing circles on his knuckle as sleep and fever swallowed him again. If Gale noticed it, he never said anything about it and that was that.

[missmoonfrost]

Exploring - a wolfstar microfic

@wolfstarmicrofic

September 17 - Beast Words: 616 NSFW

Remus pressed his lips to Sirius’ and drank in the feeling of having him in his arms. In his bed. Just the fact that he chose to be there was intoxicating.

They were new. Their dorm mates knew, but Remus had charmed the curtains shut and a heavy silencing charm around them.

Remus gently caressed every part of Sirius’ body he could reach like this, lying side by side. His hand wandered over his arms, neck, back, arse. He got the urge to grab forcefully at the delicious flesh but managed to stop himself.

“Are you okay?” Sirius whispered.

“Never better.”

They continued their exploration. Remus planted kisses along Sirius’ jawline and neck. He got a beastly urge to bite the delicate skin. With a gasp, he pulled away and rolled over on his back.  How could he ever have thought he would be able to do anything like this? Of course, he couldn’t. He was a monster.

“What’s wrong?” Sirius asked.

“I just…” Remus covered his eyes with a hand “I’m suppressing these impulses…”

Sirius heaved up on one elbow and smiled excitedly at him. “Please don’t. Don’t hold back.”

“But I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You’re not hurting me.”

“No, but I almost… It feels so wild. Like the wolf. I don’t know if I can control it.

Sirius still looked more thrilled than scared but asked doubtingly. “What exactly are those impulses then?”

Remus tried to sink further into the pillow, away from Sirius' gaze. “Hold. Squash. Claw. Bite.”

“Do you mean something like this?” Sirius dragged his nails along Remus' arm, sending shivers through his body. “Or this?” He carefully dragged his teeth at Remus' jawline, catching the skin between them and pulling just slightly, then moved on to do the same with his earlobe, down his neck. Remus gasped with the sensation.

Sirius smiled. “Try it. You won’t hurt me.”

Remus hesitantly pulled Sirius close again, kissed him and caught his lower lip between his teeth. He could feel Sirius smiling and let go to look at him quizzingly.

“That doesn’t count. Bite me for real.”

Remus took a deep breath. He nuzzled the perfect porcelain skin of Sirius' neck and drew in his heavenly scent. He licked a stripe from the collarbone up to his ear and was rewarded with an encouraging sigh. He let his teeth catch the muscle of his neck and pinch ever so slightly.

No beast emerged. He was still himself.

Relieved, he licked again and tried his teeth on a different spot. Sirius moaned. Remus instantly pulled back to look at him. He was not hurt. His eyes conveyed nothing but unmistakable lust.

Remus placed his lips over Sirius’ collarbone and sucked, forming a bruise as he had seen others do. He gripped Sirius’ arm and shoulder without holding back, letting his fingers dig into the muscle.

“Yes”, Sirius breathed.

Maybe there were some urges that Remus didn’t need to suppress. Maybe this whole thing had nothing to do with the wolf at all.