#I just want to be able to talk ro someone with first hand experience so I'll know I'm not messing anything up! :(

[beep-beep-imma-sheep]

I want to talk to people in countries undergoing humanitarian crisis so they can tell me themselves what is like and what sources to trust and what sources NEVER.

Like, I know what Venezuelan sources I can trust because I have the cuatro in the heart, I carry in the blood the foam of the sea, and your horizon in my eyes (see: Venezuela (song)).

But... The only reliable source I can think for other countries will be... People from said countries. And since I want to spread information about them, I'm genuinely scared of spreading misinformation.

I really don't want to end up being more of a problem saying things that are not true. Because I know how horrible it is that people try to speak FOR you instead of trying to amplify YOUR voice when you're in the middle of a dictatorship.

[frenziedslashers]

D, K, M, N, Q, R, S, V, Y, And Z for Rick Grimes for the nsft asks? If you write for him!

Yes, I do write for him. He is actually my husband <3

Here is the ask game if any of you would like to send in a character for the Walking Dead, Borderlands, or Slasher fandoms!

NSFT UNDER THE CUT, MINORS DNI:

D - Dominance (do they prefer to dominate, or be dominated? do they have experience as a Dom? Do they have a Dom that they trust already? What kind of things do they enjoy as/with their Dominant partner?) 

I feel like Rick is a switch, but he drifts more towards the dominant side at first. Until he knows he can trust you with him, but that doesn't take too much. He's a trusting guy. He doesn't necessarily mind if you decide to take the lead or fuck him instead. He kind of prefers it those nights where he feels like he's the worst person in the world. When he's in a particularly angsty and pissy mood, though, he's the one fucking you. I don't make the rules. He's gotta get his frustration out somehow 🫶

K - Kissing (what parts of their body do they like having kissed? what parts of their partner do they enjoy kissing? do they like leaving marks / having marks left on them?) 

Rick is a sucker for affection. Whether it be giving or receiving it. So when kissing you he loves kissing everywhere. He's super into body worship so he likes kissing from your ankles, up to your thighs. Letting his lips travel up to your stomach and chest. Paying a little extra attention to more sensitive areas with bites and sucks. He'll kiss your neck, and then down one arm to your hand. Then kiss from the other shoulder down to the other hand. Finally moving up to kiss your lips. He loves every part of you and loves to let you know that.

When it comes to you kissing him to get him in the mood? Well, simply just a kiss to his lips are enough. He's always in the mood for you. And if he even thinks you are suggesting something, he's not ashamed to drop what he's doing for you. If you kiss his throat or chest though, man he's going crazy.

He is a big sucker for marks, too. He loves leaving them on you. Being able to see them later throughout the day. Or when you leave marks on him? Gosh, he's going crazy. He loves being able to flaunt them. Especially if he has someone that's been particularly flirty with him. Just a silent tell that Rick is in fact taken. He wouldn't have it any other way, either.

M - Masochism (do they like pain? scratching? biting? being bossed around? spoken down to? choked?)

Personally, I think he's into it. I don't think he'd realize it until you pull his hair, or bite him rather hard once, but he's digging it. If you want him to be more rough with you and - for lack of better words - snap. Just pull his hair or inflict some sort of pain on him. Don't straight up hit or punch him lmao, but yeah. He likes it.

A little thing I like to imagine is hate sex with Rick. I know, it's not everyone's cup of tea, but just imagine. You both are arguing. Ricks starting to slowly raise his voice as he does. Trying his best not to be too mean but also slowly losing his patience. Meanwhile you're screaming and yelling. He says something. Whether it be a remark about you, or just something that pisses him off, and you hit him. You slap him across the face and he takes a moment to comprehend what had just happened. You realize almost immediately, and feel horrible. The argument wasn't enough for you both to be hurting each other, but the look in Rick's eyes has you fearing your life. The sting of your hand against his face did things to him, and before you know it he's pinning you against the nearest surface and pulling you in for a bruising kiss.

I don't think he would be into choking, but he might ask you to maybe hit him here ro there if you're okay with it. If you talk down on him when he's in more of a Dom mood he's gonna get a little rougher with you.

When he's in more of a subby mood he loves it when you talk down on him. He finds it insanely hot and occasionally feels like he deserves it. He's definitely into mild mental torture and degradation.

N - Not yet (orgasm delay? orgasm denial? do they tell their partner not to touch themselves for a certain amount of time or under certain circumstances? do they delay or deny other things like bathroom usage or food? do they need to beg first? do they like being denied / delayed?)

Rick is very into Orgasm denial/delay. He likes telling you that you can't touch yourself or move while he sits you on his cock. He loves it when you try and squirm and get any sort of friction out of it. He loves watching you get all frustrated when he denies you orgasm after orgasm as well, too. He likes hearing you beg for it, but that's not what he expects out of it. He's more into it for your bodies reactions.

When it comes to you denying him an orgasm he's such a fucking whiny beggar. He's pleading with you and asking you over and over for a chance to cum. If you tie his hands behind his back or above his head it's got him going even more crazy. His hips shifting as he begs. He loves it a lot more than he'd like to admit, but it does frustrate him to no end. He thinks it's hot though. How you're controlling the very thing he wants. Especially if you're doing something that he has to watch that's turning him on even more. Or kissing up and down his body, or being rough and smacking him. God, he's gone nuts.

Q - Quiet please (what’s the volume like in the bedroom? are they quiet? do they scream? do they like a loud partner? do they prefer if their partner is more soft spoken?)

With you guys normally having to stay quiet he normally prefers that you are both quieter. Especially since he doesn't want Carl to over hear it and raise question. Last thing he needs is to traumatize his son anymore than he is.

When the two of you are in the prison or Alexandria, and you can go somewhere where you can be more vocal like the guard tower or your shared room. He likes hearing your voice. Even if you aren't that vocal and you're still fairly quiet, he loves hearing everything that you have to offer him. When he's fucking you with intent, he does like trying to make you loud. It's like a little challenge for himself, especially if you're typically fairly quiet during sex.

In both his dom and sub moods he can be rather vocal. Letting out pants, grunts, moans, whines, praises of your name, sweet nothings, you name it. He feels like he can let go and forget about the dangers of the world when he's having sex with you so he tends to just let loose. Letting everything slip from his lips without even thinking about it.

R - Routine (do they have a routine when it comes to picking up one night stands? do they have scheduled sex with their partner? are things spontaneous or planned ahead of time?)

Rick doesn't have a routine with one night stands. He doesn't really participate in one night stands often. Nor does he really have the chance to since it's rare he meets new people that he actually likes in that sense. He's not against them, just not really something he actively goes out to seek.

His sex life with his partner is pretty spontaneous, too. His life is anything but scheduled when it comes to stuff outside of scavenging and just surviving. the two of you can go weeks without doing anything sexual together. Whether it be because you're always on the run, he's caught up with being the leader and keeping the group safe, or he's just exhausted. He does try and take time for you. He hates leaving you high and dry for weeks at a time. So he tries to dedicate at least one day a week to you, if not more.

S - Sleepy sex (do they give oral to wake their partner up? do they like receiving oral to wake up? do they like fucking their partner awake? being fucked awake? how about being fucked to sleep at night? do they have lazy morning sex?)

He's not really a big fan of waking you up with oral or sex. He doesn't feel right doing it. Even if you ask him for it, he won't do it.

If the two of you are in a safe place, where he knows you two aren't in danger. He's not opposed to being woken up with oral or you fucking him. It's not his favorite though, he likes having his full attention on you and hates even the thought of missing a little bit of a moment with you.

He isn't against fucking you/being fucked to sleep, though. Night time is typically the only time the two of you have together for those moments. So it's one of his favorite times to do anything like that with you.

Sleepy morning sex he enjoys, too. Sleepy kisses while he either gently fucks you, or vice versa. It always starts him off in a good mood for the day. It's a good way for you to be on his mind for the rest of the day, too. Not like you aren't always on his mind anyways.

V - Voyeurism (do they like to watch, or are they more hands on? are they more of an exhibitionist?) 

Ehh.. I really don't think he's that into watching. I think he's more of a hands on sort of guy. Unless you're tying him up and touching yourself while denying/delaying his orgasm, he'd rather be touching you at all times and not just watching.

I don't think he's too much of an exhibitionist, either. He isn't too fond of other people seeing your body or the reactions you make when he touches you just right. He just doesn't like others seeing you or himself so vulnerable. Plus, he has a reputation to keep. He's already a murderer. No sense being seen as a pervert, too.

Y - Yes, Master (what kinds of names are used during sex? do they like being called master / mistress, daddy, etc…? what names do they call their partner?)

He wouldn't know that he was into it until you called him Sir once as a joke.

He's not a big fan of Daddy. He's a father and hates that the word is sexualized. Especially since he's had people refer to him as Carl and Judiths "Daddy" in a parental sense. He'd ask you to never call him that, even as a joke.

He prefers Sir or Officer. He thinks it's a little weird that he likes hearing you say it so much, but it's a definitely and easy way to get him in the mood or to do something you want.

Z - Zones (what are their erogenous zones? what spots on their body should be touched, bitten, kissed, when someone wants to get them in the mood?)

His shoulders. He's a fairly tense and stressed guy, so if you take the time to rub and kiss on his shoulders he's putty in your hands. He's eventually pulling you in for a kiss and returning the favor. Even if all you did was rub his shoulders, he's giving you something in return.

His thighs. If you place your hand on his thighs while the two of you are sitting beside one another. Or brush your hand against them, his eyes are boring into you. He's pulling you away the next chance he gets.

His neck. It's a super sensitive spot on his body, and he especially loves it when you bite on it. How easily you could kill him by just biting too hard. He's done it to a man before, he knows. It's a very vulnerable and intimate spot for him and easy to get him in the mood by kissing on it.

Light touches to his arms, chest, or lower back. If you walk by and brush one of these areas with your hand. Or touch them while you're talking with him, it's gonna drive him a little crazy. Especially if you do it throughout the day when he can't pull you into a room and fuck you or at least takeout with you for a little while. He's as bad as a horny teenager at times. Especially the longer it's been since the two of you had done anything. Any lingering touch or glance is getting him in the mood.

[uroboros-if]

Heyo, so I recently realized that I have a tendency to flinch/jump at loud noises, even if I expect them. I mean- at school, I will jump a foot in the air at the bell. How would the ROs react to an MC like that? I feel awful whenever someone is talking to me, then their voice raises in volume and I flinch. I can imagine All that Lasts Forever sitting with one of the ROs in silence, when the RO breaks the silence to speak, they jump in surprise, then apologize for jumping.

:( I'm sorry you feel that way when someone is talking to you. It must be uncomfortable. You never have to apologize for jumping.

SALVATORE would be surprised the first time they realize that, and feel immensely guilty for eliciting that reaction out of you. Embarrassed, they begin to form an apology on their lips, when you make one of your own to them. If you explain it to them, they'd be surprised a second time. Their voice drops to something low and warm as they assure the MC that they have nothing to apologize for. It's something that stays on their mind and they become conscious of when they see you. Instead, they'd attempt to catch your attention by coming to your line of vision and waving their hand, or tapping you lightly on the shoulder if you're okay with that. If need be, they'll attempt to say your name as softly as they can, just loud enough for you to hear them. Perhaps they can even glow slightly as signal.

Alternatively, if they come to that realization on their own after they see you jump often at loud noises, they'll notice and make the same adjustments accordingly!

LUCIEL doesn't noticeably react when they realize this quality of yours. Each time it happens, they say nothing on it except say you do not need to apologize. The first time does not catch their attention, but the more often it happens, the more it rises to their consciousness. Their gaze more often lingers on you, sharp and contemplative. Once they know of it keenly, they start to make adjustments. They're quiet on it and never ask, if only because they wouldn't want you to be conscious of it. They merely try to catch your attention by coming to your sight or tapping on you, but they might also use their presence to their advantage. The air grows just the slightest cooler, with a breeze that kicks up your hair, and you're awash in the sense of calmness that so often accompanies the deity of death. Subtle, and yet unmistakably them, and it takes your attention to them.

CIOCANA. At first, they would tease you lightly for it, asking what you're thinking about so deeply to be startled. However, if you explain it to them or it's common enough that they can catch on (and Ciocana catches on quite quickly), they'd stop teasing you for it. Instead, they try to call you to them with some dramatics, dancing lights to your sight or making a flourish that it has to make you look to them. Anything fun and non-audible, they'd try anything under the sun that will work and hopefully, something that they can keep doing that will be able to call to you without having to raise their voice. They can, however, carry a whisper to your ear, though it is not something they want to resort to often unless that is sufficient for you.

ALESSI would laugh and say sorry for making you jump like that, and wave off any apologies of your own. It takes them a little more to notice, but when they do, they'd make it a point to apologize for all those times they didn't realize that sudden loud sounds were uncomfortable for MC, even if they were just saying their name. They prefer to ask you directly what you would be most comfortable with, and go with that. However, if it's something you're not sure about, they'd ask if you'd let them try different things. At that, they dilligently experiment a variety of ways, visual or touch or otherwise, and when they try a method that doesn't have you jumping, they'd visibly cheer. So that worked! They'll have to do that next time!

This is, of course, as any decent person should do for you! Thank you so much for sending an ask.💕💕

[bladeweaver-if]

How would the ROs react if MC was injured??

Concern! But seriously, I put together some possible reactions for each one below: (This is assuming the RO is in a relationship with MC) Sam: If it's a light injury, he'd probably just laugh it off to make them feel better, but help with cleaning it up. With heavier injuries he'd be more worried, hovering around to make sure MC is doing okay and making sure they're not in too much pain - he doesn't mind the sight of blood so he'd be happy to bandage them up. Cait: She's really not a fan of blood or injuries but she'd try very hard to help MC out, doing her best to stay calm even though she'd probably fail. She'd also feel very protective towards MC if the injury was gained from a fight, even going as far as to try and find out who caused the injury. Lucas: He'd stay very calm to reassure MC if they're not doing so well with their injury, or keep them talking if they want to be distracted from it.

Would probably expect them to care for their own injuries if it's not too severe, but would begrudgingly get his hands dirty if he has to. If the injury was gained from a fight, he'd sarcastically give tactics for MC to not get injured with, but secretly feeling quite vengeful towards whoever gave them the injury.

Talia: She has very little first aid experience so the best she'd be able to do is help clean the wound a little (reluctantly). She would, however, be very insistent about finding out why MC got the injury, and if it was given to them by someone, she would want to find them.

[yourveryownkarma]

This was composed so many times and lost over and over again or accidentally deleted and it's been scraped and pieced together for about a year now and I always lock it in my notes and save it everytime I re-do it. I think it is now time to let all of you go; and unlock this from my clipboard and give my heart the freedom to be happy again.

I think it took so much of me to be the caregiver I always wished I had, for you... and I may never get that, but maybe you can get what you need if someone has the blueprints of all I learned with you...

As any other vapid girl, it must start with a quote, one I've found fits and it does it beautifully, at least for me.

"They all turned their backs on us because they knew if we held on tight to eachother... we were something fatal... but we fell into the wrong hands."

To the girl who loves him next;

I fucked shit up to the point of no return and the boy this letter is about deserves what I had the potential to give him... had I not been battling demons stronger than myself at the time.

If the first time you meet him it feels like you're in fucking 6th grade meeting your new best friend, talking a mile a minute and never wanting to sleep because you're so excited you found someone this amazing... (I think we spent 3 sleepless days and nights talking and falling so quickly in love it was worse than some freak hurricane, it caught me by surprise and to this day i know ill never laugh that hard again or be that happy again) then listen please, for everything that is holy please just read this a million times so he finally can have the life he deserves. I promise he is worth every fight every melt down every public scene... I fucking swear on it, but you won't know if you don't learn how to help him out of these situations.

The first few times it's going to seem like a fucking nightmare. Please stop and understand me when I say this... "imagine how he feels". As humans we are not very good at seeing beyond our own selfish existence, so it's going to take some actual effort, he's fucking worth it.

Learn his triggers and listen to what the fuck he's saying even if it sounds crazy to you, listen to those words because there's meaning behind them. It's not just to freak out its not just to embarass you and its certainly not Any fun for him. Keep cold water with you for these moments. He needs it to drink and splash his face with.Do not be afraid to jump in a cold shower with him with your clothes on, because no matter how shitty it sounds now... it's some of my favorite memories to look back on, being able to calm him and hear what he is trying to say because you've learned how to help calm him and you've become that much closer. I would sing to him, i wont give the details of that song or that part as its something i want ro keep to myself, it was my favorite song and i havent listened to it or sang it since the day i droppwd him off at the airport.

Don't lie to him, however fragile his ❤️; it can withstand the hard truth, but the sugar coated lie is a slap deep into his soul, please don't break his trust. It's so sacred and beautiful. I know right now you don't think you can handle him, and I'd love to be selfish and tell you to send him on an airplane to me because I miss my best friend and lover, but if you stick this out... he will make you the happiest girl in the whole world. I know from experience. Please do not hurt him. Because if I find out about this, you will have alot bigger troubles than him not being able to let go. He is sensitive and messy and fun and sweet and chaos and perfection... but don't ever make him feel like he is not enough, he isnt... and don't ever make him feel like he's too much... he isn't. He is a perfect portion of all and he taught me how to love myself and he taught me patience in the purest form.

If you give up easily, you can come join my sad club...

Yours truly, GHOSTGIRL (R.I.P. DEVIL GIRL)

[messers-moony]

He’s Safe With Me | R.B

Paring: Regulus Black X Fem!Half-Blood!Reader

Summary: A little boy brightens Regulus’ days after his brother leaves him.

Inspiration: Click & Click

Growing up always left a bittersweet taste in people's mouths. While it was nice to gain freedom and more privileges that growing up included, the new responsibilities made it bitter. It was the leaving, the stress, and the idea of putting your childhood behind you that brought the sour taste to people's tongues. 

Regulus never thought that he’d have to grow up so fast. 

The summer months were always Regulus’ favorite. They were the months that, despite everything, Sirius would come home to Number Twelve Grimmauld Place and be a resident there for the two months of holiday. Maybe during Hogwarts, they would sneer at each other and argue with one another, but at home, it wasn’t like that. 

Sirius was sixteen, and Regulus was fifteen, but that didn’t stop Sirius from taking the hits meant for Regulus. It didn’t stop him from taking the blame, so Regulus was safe. Afterward, Regulus would hear Sirius whimpering in his bedroom and silent cries. Sometimes, he’d even fall asleep outside his door, or if he were brave enough, he’d go inside and lay beside him. 

They were boys, but from the moment they were born, they had to be adults. Their childhood was stripped from them, and responsibilities piled on top of another. From the minute they were born, they had to sit straight, use proper manners, try to court girls, be charming, study, and be mature, but they were boys. They were bound to be a ruckus. 

Regulus could remember running around Uncle Alphard with Sirius when he was three. Uncle Alphard had a vast plot of land with a big house on the corner. He had cherry blossom trees planted all around the manor, and it gave the boys an area to run. When Regulus caught up to him, eventually, he’d jump on his brother's back, and Sirius always caught him when he fell. 

So why couldn’t Sirius catch him now?

He heard the window open from Sirius’ room and already had a feeling he knew what was happening. Earlier that day, he heard the shuffling of clothes and items in the room beside his own. Regulus swallowed the growing lump in his throat and opened Sirius’ door to find exactly what he suspected. Sirius had a trunk packed and head out of the window. When the door opened, he hit his head on the bottom of the window. 

“God damn it.” Sirius muttered in pain as he retracted from halfway out the window. 

“Sirius…?” Regulus hated how small his voice sounded. 

Sirius turned to face his little brother fiddling with a Gryffindor tie, tears in his eyes, “Regulus….”

“Please, wait.” Regulus pleaded softly, and Sirius wanted to, but he couldn’t, “Reg, I- I can’t. I can’t stay here anymore.” Sirius stuttered as tears filled his vision. 

Why couldn’t Sirius stay? He felt like a little boy again begging and pleading for Sirius to hold him during the thunderstorms that used to take cover of the skies. Mother always dragged him out of the bedroom, and Regulus would be left wailing begging for Sirius. Regulus would sit on his bed crisscrossed, holding a blanket close to his heart, praying, “Please, Siri, please.”

He could remember when Sirius and Regulus were forced to become enemies. Remembering when Sirius came home from his first year, he was shut in his room with multiple locks. Regulus would weep beg for him to save him from their mother and father. When the first Cruciatus Curse hit, he screamed Sirius’ name. 

“Please, Siri, you- you can’t leave.”

“Regulus,” Sirius stepped forward to cup his brother's cheek who reached just beneath his chin, “I’m sorry.”

Regulus leaned into his brother's touch, knowing it would probably be the last time, “I wanna be home….” 

“You are home, Regulus.” Sirius replied, confused but still soft and Regulus looked up at him with tears streaming down his face, “Home is wherever I’m with you….”

Sirius had tears trickling down his pale cheeks as he placed his chin on top of Regulus’ head, embracing him tightly, “Please don’t go….”

“Please. I’m begging you.” Regulus was whimpering, keening, wailing, “Siri, please.”

“It’s safer with me gone.” Sirius confessed, “You’ll be safer here. They won’t use the crucio curse on you, not with you being the only one left.”

Regulus was fisting the back of his shirt, the Gryffindor tie still in his hand, “They know that if they hurt one of us, the other one hurts more. With me gone, that leverage disappears.”

“I don’t care.” Regulus cried, “I just want you.”

Sirius kissed the top of his head and parted from his brother's tight embrace, “I love you, Regulus.”

“But-“ Regulus swallowed, “You love James more.”

Sirius didn’t answer, and Regulus let his head fall, staring at the wooden floor, fiddling with the silk tie. He felt guilty. He felt like it was all his fault. Maybe if Regulus had taken more curses, perhaps if he had been a better brother. Maybe if Regulus were strong enough to disobey his parents as Sirius did, then Sirius wouldn’t be leaving right now. 

“Perhaps not in this lifetime, but perhaps in another, I’d be able to stay.” Sirius replied solemnly, leaving Regulus’ heart to shatter like a ripped piece of paper. 

Regulus sniffled, “I guess… this is goodbye.”

“I suppose it is,” Sirius said as he approached the window again. 

This time Regulus didn’t stop him. He knew he had nothing on James. Regulus would always be second to James no matter how hard he tried. Sirius threw the trunk onto the outside ground and sat on the edge of the window, looking beneath him. He turned around one more time before leaping onto the soft grass. 

Maybe the summer months weren’t Regulus’ favorite months anymore. 

The start of fifth year was dreadful. Regulus didn’t feel anything when he approached the Hogwarts Express. It felt like half of his heart had gone and disappeared. All the compartments were full, and Regulus would have to share with someone, which worsened the experience.

He saw the Marauders compartment. It was filled with the usual four boys, but inside was a girl. She was stunning with her soft appearing hair and sharp features. She was the epitome of beauty, and she made the entire compartment laugh with a quick wit she seemed to have made. 

Regulus passed it until he found a compartment with Lucius Malfoy and Evan Rosier. He slid the door open and took place beside Evan. Both boys welcomed him in with a smile. He couldn’t help but think back to the girl in the Marauders compartment. He had seen her before, but he couldn’t place it where. 

She hadn’t changed into her robes, so it was impossible to know what house she was in, but she still looked stunning in Muggle clothing. He noticed her style was comparative to Sirius’. The black ripped jeans, the doc martens on her feet, and a tee-shirt he couldn’t make out due to the jacket she wore over it. 

They entered Hogwarts and went into the Great Hall, where everyone sat at their respected tables. Regulus couldn’t help himself but try and search for her. He was shocked when she entered the Great Hall with green and silver robes. 

It didn’t make sense. Why did she get to be included? The Marauders hated Slytherins, yet she seemed to be so close with them. Regulus was a Slytherin, and he was related to one of the Marauders, yet he still wasn’t included. His heart swelled with a sense of jealousy and envy. 

Nonetheless, she took her seat beside Leia, a pureblood with long brown hair and blue eyes. They were talking until the sorting ceremony began. The sorting ceremony was long and drawled out, but the girl looked strangely intrigued. She watched intently as a little boy with shaggy brown hair and green eyes who was introduced as Romeo L/n sat onto the stool where McGonagall placed the hat onto his head.

It pondered for a while, a maximum of two minutes, but the hat finally exclaimed, “Slytherin!” The boy smiled brightly and approached the girl. He was bouncing over to her with a gleeful smile on his face. The little boy had dimples and straight teeth. He hugged her tightly, and she kissed his cheek. 

“Congratulations, Romeo.” 

“I’m just like you, sis!” Romeo grinned. 

She smiled, “You’re just like me, love.”

“Congratulations, Ro!” Leia exclaimed, “So happy for you.”

He hugged the other girl, “Thanks, Leia.”

“C’mere, Rom,” Y/n patted the seat beside her, “Sit.”

The little boy sat beside his sister and allowed her to put her arms around his neck, holding him close to her chest, “Love you, Romeo.”

“I love you too, Y/n.”

Regulus grimaced. So she had a little brother, and her name was Y/n. Regulus looked back at the stool where first years were sitting. He glanced slightly at Sirius from across the room, who was smiling brightly as James placed an arm around his shoulders. Regulus would always be second best. 

The first few weeks of fifth-year weren’t that bad. It went smoothly, and people didn’t talk to Regulus. He was cold and snappy. It turned people away, which he was thankful for. He didn’t want people to talk to him. He felt numb and unresponsive, like he was the shell of who he uses to be. 

He was in the library with a Transfiguration book in front of him. The pages were dull, and he couldn’t retain anything he was reading. He missed Sirius’ brilliance in Transfiguration. He missed Sirius tutoring him in hidden places of the library so their mother wouldn’t curse him for low marks. 

A hand had gently tugged at his robe, and he went to snap when he saw familiar green eyes, “Um, excuse me, you’re Regulus, right?”

“Yeah, Regulus Black.” Regulus replied, hoping the last name would deter him, but the boy only smiled, “I’m Romeo L/n. Professor Slughorn said that you could tutor me in Potions.”

Romeo sat across from Regulus and plopped down his supplies, “I’m absolutely rubbish at Potions, but my marks in Herbology and Charms are pretty okay. Mum says they need work, but I’m trying the best I can.”

Regulus tilted his head, “What are your marks in Herbology and Charms?”

“I have an Exceeds Expectations in both.” Romeo muttered, “Mum says that I can do better, though.”

“Exceeds Expectations is good. That’s remarkable for a first year. You’re starting out with no knowledge. For just starting, I’d say you’re doing great.” Regulus replied. 

He didn’t know why he felt the need to comfort this boy. Maybe because he saw himself in the boy in front of him, he could hear his own mother scolding him for his Acceptable in Transfiguration in his first year. 

“Will you tutor me, please?”

Regulus hesitated, “I guess I’m not great at Potions either.”

“Y/n says your fantastic!” Romeo replied, “She talks about you quite a bit.”

“She does?”

“Mhm!” He hummed, “Used to send me letters at home talking about you.”

Regulus’ face flushed, and he gave a tiny smile, “I didn’t even know who she was.”

“She does that on purpose. She knew you wouldn’t like her because of her relationship with Sirius. They’re close friends.” 

“Have you spoken to any of them?”

“Yeah.” Romeo's smile was bright, “Sirius was the one who told me to talk to you. He said that you were nice.” 

“Sirius did?”

“Yeah, and Y/n, of course.” 

Regulus smiled; maybe Sirius wasn’t completely gone, “I’ll tutor you.”

“You will?”

“Yeah. Why not.” 

Without a second thought, Romeo had jumped up and embraced the older boy. Regulus stiffened, and Romeo pulled away with wide green eyes, “I’m- I’m sorry. I should’ve asked.”

Regulus embraced the boy again, and Romeo leaned into his touch. He felt safe in the Black boy's arms, almost the same feeling he got when Y/n wrapped her arms around him. Regulus’ embrace was soft, comforting, and sweet. Romeo could smell the broom polish from being the Slytherin Seeker, cinnamon, and a hint of sandalwood. 

Romeo gave Regulus a smile before sitting back down, and they began studying together. Later that evening, Romeo had entered the Great Hall for dinner with him. The first year smiled at him before approaching his sister at the Gryffindor table, where he took his spot beside her. 

“Hey, Rom.” Y/n greeted, “Hey, sis.” 

“Did you talk to Regulus?” Y/n asked, “Is he gonna tutor you?”

Romeo nodded, “Yeah! He’s really nice!” 

Sirius gave a subtle smile, “That’s brilliant, Romeo.”

Romeo and Regulus became quick friends despite Regulus’ reluctance. Romeo thought of Regulus like an older brother, and Regulus protected him like one. He was a target for many older Gryffindors, and Regulus would always take the hits or duel them for him. 

These actions didn’t come without consequences. Regulus’ home life got worse, and letters often came about his friendship with the other Slytherin boy. They didn’t enjoy the fact that they were half-bloods and didn’t believe in pureblood supremacy. Regulus would sit in the Astronomy tower with the letter reading it with a dry face looking at the stars. 

The door to the tower opened, and Regulus didn’t move. Their footsteps were light and patted across the concrete until they saw him. She sat beside him with her legs crossed while Regulus dangled. She saw the parchment in his hand and took it from them. He allowed it. There was nothing terrible in it other than his mother threatening to throw him out if he didn’t stop talking to that half-blood. 

She read it while Regulus stared at the night sky. Y/n placed it back down on the concrete pavement without a word. She fiddled with her hands and put them back in her lap. Regulus was so silent and so peaceful. But she had to break the silence.

“I really appreciate you doing what you do for Romeo.” Y/n said quietly, “He thinks of you like an older brother.”

Regulus chuckled softly, “He’s energetic, that one.”

“Yeah. He’s got a lot of energy.” Y/n replied, “He hates sitting still. But he really appreciates that you can work with that.” 

“He gets irritating sometimes, but I try to keep him intrigued.”

“It works.”

“I’m glad.”

It was silent again, “I’m sure he’s told you plenty. He’s not very good at keeping secrets.”

Regulus smirked, and for a moment, he looked like Sirius, “You wrote letters about me?”

“I like you, Regulus.” Y/n confessed, “More than I should.”

He intertwined his hand with hers, “I like you too.”

Y/n smiled at squeezed his hand. Regulus leaned his head on her shoulder and began to tell her about the stars. He went into extreme depth of every constellation, planet, and star. Y/n noticed that he skipped Canis Major but didn’t say anything. She knew of Sirius’ departure the previous summer and how badly Regulus had been hurt thanks to Sirius’ description. It wasn’t good to rub salt in a still-open wound. 

When Regulus got the mark months later, they didn’t separate. She stood by his side and helped him through it. They didn’t tell anyone about it, not even Romeo. It wasn’t until the war was over that they decided to let everyone know. Y/n had allowed a sigh of relief when she found out that Peter was in Azkaban and her friends were still alive. 

Regulus was sleeping when she grabbed a bit of parchment to write to Sirius. Y/n dipped the quill in black ink and began writing smoothly. The ink embedded the paper like old friends, and when it dried, she handed it to her owl, Astoria. The following afternoon when Remus and Sirius were still entangled together from the previous night, the owl tapped on the window. 

Sirius groaned and stood up from the bed. He grabbed the parchment as the owl flew off. The writing was perfect calligraphy, and Sirius smiled at the note written on the parchment. His heart slowed its beat with relief. 

“He’s safe with me.”

[honeyabyss]

Different ways to say I Love You (minus Luke)

Lucifer:

Lucifer isn't the best at saying what he actually feels due to his pride getting in the way, but he makes it up with small gestures

he is very observant and often knows what you need before you know it

putting on the fireplace in his study when he notices you start to rub your hands or shift your legs to warm them subconsciously

refilling your cup/glass while he pours something himself

"You should have dressed better, I can see you're shivering..."

his snarky side comments might sound like he's annoyed, but he actually cares and worries

he will most definitely put his cloak around your shoulders and keep you close to him with a hand on your waist

he's conflicted between staying subtle and showing you off all the time

"Aren't they looking amazing today? Haven't you stared enough yet? You're making them uncomfortable!"

when you're in private he becomes more open and affectionate, but still tries to play it down

him moving with his work away from his work desk to the small coffee table, sitting side by side with you, just to have you close

when he's feeling stressed he tends to intertwine his fingers with yours, seeking the comfort and familiarity of you

Lucifer tries to give you the same he feels when he is with you comfort, peace, a place to hide from the rest of the world

"You are my save haven! I don't always have to be at my best when I'm with you!"

Mammon:

"Hey! Look what I've brought you home. Ain't I the best?!"

small gifts are a regular occurrence with the Avatar of Greed, which don't always have to be the most expensive, extraordinary or thoughtful ones

"I was on the way home when I saw this and thought of you...you needed this right?"

it could have been the most ridiculous thing like a single paperclip, but he'd be so proud to have noticed and remembered you were having troubles organizing your papers yesterday

him being a tsundere makes it hard for him to openly admit or show his love for you sometimes, his thoughts are full of you and he is constantly complementing you and how much he wants to hold you in his arms or kiss...but actually vocalizing or holding and kissing you seems to be way harder

though that doesn't hold him off to keep you close and hold hands in front of others, you're his human and everyone shall know, you're his and his alone, they'd be mad to try and steal you away

as his sin is Greed, hoarding stuff happens often, most of the times he sells them to be able to get money, but every single thing you'll give him will hold a special meaning in his heart, will show off your gifts to brag

but material love isn't the only thing he can give, he'll also gladly give you all his time

he'll randomly invite you to go take a drive with him, just get in the car and go, no set destination, just Mammon and you away from his brothers and all the others

when you're alone he'd still be nervous, but cuddling will happen a lot, though he is always blushing a bright red

"If I could choose to have one treasure in my whole life, I'd choose to only treasure you!"

Leviathan:

being the Avatar of Envy, he is quick to loose his temper when you're talking or even dare touch other people, he'd be rather alone with you, but that doesn't always work, so being open and mindful about his sin is a must

"Soo what did you two talk about? Not that I mind...but you can also talk about everything with me, you know that right?"

he knows that his social skills aren't the best and that he doesn't know about to many normie topics, but he'll try his best to listen to you and come up with responses and ways to keep the conversation going

he wants to make sure you know he loves you so badly, but all he knows about love is from animes or games, so he often tries to recreate romantic scenes only to get thoroughly embarrassed

"d-d-don't laugh! This i-i supposed to be ro-romantic...."

he tries to keep you close to him as much as he can when you're outside

he knows how anxiety inducing it can be for him, when someone suddenly touches him, so he always asks you first, as embarrassing it is to ask you to hold hands or kiss, he feels better knowing you want this too

when he is playing his games, he dislikes it when you disappear out of his vision, wanting to make sure you're still there and letting you know he hasn't forgotten about you even though he is currently concentration on his gaming, he'll keep you in his lap with a furious blush on his cheeks and he might see the game over screen more often but it's definitely worth it

"You make me overcome my weaknesses, just give me time and I'll make you happy!

Satan:

"The weather is nice...do you want to take a walk with me?"

Satan enjoys spending his time with you in any way possible, a simple walk, reading sessions, visiting your favourite places, discovering new cafés, exploring galleries and museums, as long as you're around he is open to try anything

lazing around in his room cuddled up next to you with a good book will stays his favourite though, he has you for himself and it feels reassuring to know you stay with him even on the normal and eventless days

Satan isn't too handsy, but he does keep your hand in his wherever the two of you are, even if you only making your way to the kitchen, he is not exactly jealous just happy to call you his and show it

the subtle intimacy of handholding speaks volumes to him, to others it may seem like the most ordinary couple thing, but he likes to experiment and if his stupid idea of only holding 2 fingers makes you laugh then it was a full success to him

no matter how much control over his sin he has sometimes he breaks too, after getting out all his anger, he tends to be exhausted and feels vulnerable, he'll just sit down with your hands intertwined and his head resting on your shoulder, seeking comfort and affection

"Have you smiled yet? I smile every time I think of you!"

Satan will leave small notes to make your day or send you messages on your DDD when he can't be around you

"Did I ever tell you that you feel like home to me? I hope I can be your home as well!"

Asmodeus:

so many praises and compliments, like you can just sit there looking at your phone and Asmo just coos

"You look sooo pretty!~ let's take a picture together to remember this moment!"

he will take a lot of pictures of you and him, just to look at for himself when he misses you, to show off to his brothers and Solomon, or to the whole Devildom through posting it on Devilgram

he simply enjoys to look at you, though it always ends in a warm hug , kisses and praises

he may not be very poetic or thoughtful with his touches, but he always gives it his all, some feelings he just can't describe in words so he just holds you close to show you his feelings

spa days, shopping tours and going into the club happen often, though he understands if you're not up to it some times, but he will whine and demand to spend you day differently with him

he can't help it he wants to spoil you and show you off, he's is almost never jealous, rather proud even when someone flirts with you, that doesn't mean he'll give you away

"Come here, let me just hold you. You fit perfectly into my arms..."

as the Avatar of Lust, physical touch means a lot to him, not only in the sexual way, but most in importantly in the way of craving affection, he wants to be hold and to hold you, give him all your attention and he'll be happy

"Thank you for staying and accepting me!"

Beelzebub:

sleepily walking through the hallways into the kitchen to keep Beel company while he has his midnight snack and just sitting next to him talking about your day

"Thank you for staying awake with me, do you want me to get you food as well?"

with Gluttony as his sin, food is big part of his daily life, but he doesn't just eat to satisfy his hunger, but also because he enjoys the food, no matter how hungry he is, he'll offer you even the last piece to make you happy

sharing new food and old favourites of his alike, Beel likes to share his food with you, as he feels less hungry in your company anyway

seeing you happy and full makes him happy and full as well, so he puts you first most of the times, letting you choose what you want and going along with your preferences

"Anything is fine with me, you can choose for us."

Beel is also very active, playing Fangol, training and etc, he often invites you to train with him or tries to teach you new stuff, if you don't want too that's fine as well, you can watch and he may try to impress you a little bit, but he won't train much when you're around wanting to rather spend time with you

bear hugs. just you walking basically anywhere and Beel suddenly hugs you tight against his chest, nuzzling your face and having a huge grin plastered on his face

his affectionate hugs and kisses come out of nothing, surprising but welcome, some times he forgets his strength and you'll have to remind him, he'll hold you very carefully then asking if this okay

"I feel complete with you, so just stay by my side!"

Belphegor:

"Lay down with me, I nap better with you at my side!"

obviously nap time with lots of cuddling, he just drapes himself over you, holding you close and sharing his warmth with you...if you're lucky you'll even get a small goodnight kiss, but only if he's in the mood

Belphie is a bit too straightforward with his words and sometimes ends up being a bit mean when he doesn't really want to, so in crucial moments with you he tends to become quiet and seek out to hold and hopefully show you his feelings

Belphie isn't handsy but he loves to cuddle, he may not always hold your hand when taking a walk but as soon as you two sit down he'll hug you close without saying a word

when he finds you sleeping somewhere without him, he is a bit hurt at first but he recovers quick, he'll make sure you're resting comfortably, the pillow is soft enough and that the blanket keeps you warm, even going to the length to bring you his own blanket if fell asleep anywhere but you're room, without a doubt he'll feel tired after taking care of you and will fall asleep right next to you

"Sleeping without me...unbelievable...I'll just have to squish myself next to you then.."

his other passion stargazing always ends up with him hugging you and telling you about the different constellations and it's stories until you fall asleep...only when he is sure you're dreaming he dares to run his fingers through you hair and lowly hum a lullaby into the otherwise silent night

"Let's dream our life together and promise to make it true one day!"

Diavolo:

as the prince of Hell, Diavolo only ever knew people who treated him with respect, always leaving him to feel lonely and out of place, but then you came and you weren't scared neither did you treat him like a prince, you made him your friend and soon more

with you he feels finally complete and he tries to show you his appreciation and affection any free moment of his time

he'd buy you anything you want not caring about the price, but please tell him that a small and thoughtful gift makes you just as happy as anything else

being with you always has him giddy and bursting with love, he can't hold back and will shower you in attention or at least watch you do your thing

"You're looking radiant my love! I can't believe you're mine!"

similar to Beel he has these affection attacks where he'll just suddenly have the urge to hug you and shower you in kisses

being prince requires a lot of paper work, which he dislikes, when you're around he'll indulge himself in a few more breaks than he should, ending in him having to work overtime much to his dismay

"Will you stay up waiting for me at home?"

He knows it's a selfish thought, but he loves the feeling of coming home to you and getting greeted, he feels at peace when you're there and wait for him

"I'll never have to feel lonely again, when I have you!"

Barbatos:

as a butler time isn't something he has much of, so he some times feels like he can't give you enough, he'll try to meet as often as possible but often it's only for an hour or so a day

"Do you need anything else? More tea? Anything?"

He'll probably be stuck in his butler role and try to serve, completely disregarding himself, just grab him and make him sit down

Barb isn't used to physical touch and feels less comfortable to hold you in public, handholding is the maximum for him, he probably needs some time to get used to the more affectionate things

but when in private gentle touches, soft hugs and small kisses are his thing, just small reassuring stuff while you two relax and talk about daily life

he is more of a listener and he enjoys listening to your voice, it's one of his comfort things, hearing your voice means you're safe and that helps him keep calm a lot...he may not show it, but on the inside he is always worried for you living in between demons, he's on of them he knows how dangerous it can get

phone calls while he works happen more and more often as your relationship progresses, the need to see you gets stronger, but he can't just leave work, so you'll talk over the phone

"I missed you so I had to call. How is your day?"

night-time is his favourite, no work, no on watchers, just you two and your love for each other, if only it could be always like this

"One minute with you feels like eternal bliss, imagine our happiness if you'd stay with me forever!"

Solomon:

Solomon has watched many people die in his life, so he got used to not getting attached too much, falling in love with you wasn't planned, but he can't help feeling clingy with you now

he'd play it down, aloof as he always seems, but on the inside he is screaming at you to not go at the end of the day, just one more hug, one more kiss, maybe stay over the night?

he'd never say it out loud and every time he does say something affectionate something teasing or a 'just kidding' follows, scared he might seem too clingy

"You're my everything, without you I feel like I'm suffocating...just a joke I'm breathing fine, see?"

he's always touching you in some way, holding your hand, arm around your shoulder, his hand on your waist, back or knee, whatever he just wants to feel the warmth of your skin telling him you're still there

he has lived through so many human lifetimes and experienced so much, he's happy to share all the good stuff with you and show you the most wondersome places in all three realms

the bad stuff though he keeps to himself, guides you away and hopes you'll never experience it

"Hey! Surprise I was close by and I thought we could take a walk?"

Solomon loves spending his time with you in whatever way, just whisk him away to whatever activity you'd like, surprise dates are his favourite, he doesn't want to plan out his whole life

"Now is my favourite moment with you. Why? Because I'm with you!"

Simeon:

Simeon as an author has his way with words, being able to spin them just right so every moment will become perfect, but he's more used to writing than talking and he'll use that to his advantage

"Even in the darkest of nights, your beauty lightens the room!"

expect love letter, sweet notes and poems written by him, hidden your schoolwork, waiting for you on your desk in RAD, on your pillow at HoL, anywhere he can sneak them to he will

and trust me he'll get so happy when he finds out you kept every single one of his writings

he also loves cuddles but only in private, in public he'll restrain himself to simple handholding or guiding you through the streets with your arms linked together

he enjoys to spoil you with attention, doing whatever you want, often it leads to cooking where as Luke likes to join in too, long walks, reading sessions, late night movies and cuddles, or even just long conversations about everything and anything you two can think of

"My lamb, may you come over and help a poor author who has lost his inspiration to write?"

when he is stuck with his writings he likes to take a break with you and hold you tight in his arms listening to your suggestions until he feels inspired again, no pressure though he can keep writing any time he doesn't have to come up with something on the spot, just distracting him for a bit works too

"I may have found paradise in your arms tonight, do you think your heart may be so kind to let me stay?"

[eurynome827]

A Whiskey & A Dance

A/N: see this post for the picture that inspired this story. This story is a standalone oneshot and is not connected with my other 1940s Bucky stories.

1940s preserum Steve x Bucky x reader (female)

Word Count: 3,033

Warnings: 18+ ONLY for m x m x f (taking turns), protected sex (this is the 40s so I used the word 'rubbers'), loss of virginity (Steve), oral (m receiving), smoking and alcohol, masturbation, language and dirty talk, cumplay, Steve is having thoughts about Bucky that he's trying to understand but there are no overt acts of Stucky in this fic.

By clicking the Read More below, you affirm that you are 18+ as this fic contains adult content!

"Slow down already, punk!" Steve struggled to keep up with Bucky's quick footsteps on the sidewalk, sidestepping the other pedestrians, out of breath and wheezing. "What's the big rush? Afraid you'll miss out on your doll?"

Bucky stopped suddenly on the pavement and Steve ran right into his back, damn near bouncing off. "First off, jerk, she's not a doll. She's a dame." Bucky emphasized the word, drawing it out with a raised eyebrow. "And tonight's not for me. It's for you."

Bucky whirled and took off down the sidewalk again as Steve shook his head, dazed. "For - for me? What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about you - dancing. Smooching. Maybe more." The mischief on Bucky's face made Steve swallow, hard. He pulls on Bucky's arm to stop him again.

"Buck...you didn't...pay her, did you?"

"Will you listen to yourself?" Bucky pulled his arm from Steve's grip. "No, I didn't pay her. She's not like that. She just likes to have fun. Lots of fun."

Steve can't help himself. "Have you...had fun with her?"

Bucky nods, but it's written all over his face anyway. "Oh yeah."

"What's she like?"

Bucky looks up towards the two stars visible in the Brooklyn sky. "Like heaven, Stevie. Like walking through the gates to heaven."

*

The dance hall is loud and crowded when they arrive, and Steve's heart is hammering in his chest. He stares listlessly at the bodies moving on the dance floor until Bucky elbows him.

"There she is..."

You're not like any other girl Steve has seen.

You're definitely older than the other girls they know, and Steve doesn't recognize you from when they were in school. Your heels are a little higher, your dress is tighter and your smile is knowing, worldly. Bucky mentioned that you have your own apartment and you work in Manhattan, someone's secretary or something. You're drinking whiskey in a glass stained with the red of your lipstick and Steve's mesmerized by the column of your neck as you lean back to swallow. Bucky's right - you're not a doll, you're a dame. A woman.

"C'mon, Steve, let's dance."

You hand your glass to Bucky and grab Steve's hand and he's afraid for a moment that his palms are too sweaty or that you can hear how hard it is for him to breathe. The music changes from a fast song to a slow one, and you take Steve's hands and put them on your waist, drawing him in close. You're looking at him like he's the only guy in Brooklyn and in that moment nothing else matters - just you and your red lips and your perfume in his nose tickling the back of his throat.

"Bucky said maybe we could go back to my place and have a few drinks." You're whispering in Steve's ear, and you giggle when a shiver runs down his spine, his hands trembling on your waist. "Would you like that, Steve?"

"Y-yeah. Let's go."

*

You sneak the boys in through a side door, you tell them it's to avoid the nosy landlady. Bucky and Steve tiptoe up the stairs behind you and wait while you unlock the door and then you grab them both by the lapels of their jackets and pull them inside, your giggles floating out into the hallway. Bucky is laughing softly and he ducks his head to kiss the back of your neck while you're locking the door from the inside and Steve wonders again what am I doing here? What's going on?

"Let's have a drink, gentlemen," you kick off your shoes and grab the bottle of whiskey off the counter in the kitchenette. Bucky's taking three glasses out of the cabinet and it's clear he's been here more than once. You take a cigarette from your pack and offer one to Bucky, who takes it but opens a window before lighting yours, and then his.

"Oh," you look over at Steve, "will you be alright with the smoke?"

"He's fine with the window open," Bucky answers, sitting on the couch and leaning his head back, exhaling a cloud of smoke toward the ceiling.

You pour out the whiskey, three glasses neat. The cigarette is perched between your pouting lips and Steve's mesmerized. He's never been in a place like this with a woman like you. You catch him staring and smile, soft and knowing.

"I'm going to get comfortable. Is that alright, Steve?" You ask, voice low as you hand him a glass. Bucky smirks at you when you hand him the other glass.

"Um, sure," Steve answers, taking a tiny sip and wincing at the burn. "I don't mind."

You drink, and Steve's watching your neck as you swallow again, everything about you soft but sophisticated, in Steve's eyes anyway. Putting down your glass and the cigarette in the ashtray, you unbutton your dress with your eyes on Steve the whole time. His mouth goes dry, his body feels numb, and he knows he's staring as your skin is revealed to him but he can't stop himself. You toss your dress on a chair, pick up your cigarette and lounge on the couch, next to Bucky in only your undergarments and stockings.

Steve can't breathe and it has nothing to do with the smoke. Bucky draws lazy circles on the inside of your thigh with his fingertips, and you open your legs wider for him but your eyes are fixed on Steve. You sigh before drawing more smoke into your lungs, exhaling a cloud around you and Bucky that looks like a magic spell hanging in the room.

"Do you want to touch me too?" You ask, quietly, like you're trying not to frighten him off. "I want you to. I like to play." Your lips curl up in a smile, and you put the cigarette in the ashtray again to beckon him forward, crooking your finger with a mischievous giggle. "Come here, Steve. Come and play with us."

Steve's mouth and throat go dry, and he takes a drink but starts coughing when the whiskey burns down his throat. You shake off Bucky's hand and stand up from the couch, walking to Steve and cooing, "oh, sweet baby boy, are you alright?" Steve's eyes nearly pop out of his head when you kneel in front of him, rubbing your hands up his thighs closer to where he's suddenly hard in his pants at the sight and presence of you. One of your hands rubs over his clothed cock and his head falls back, his eyes closed as he struggles to control himself.

"Steve," you're whispering, your hands unbuttoning his pants, "I know you want me, and I want you too. Will you let me make you feel good, baby?" A strangled moan escapes from Steve's throat as your hands grasp him and pull him free and he opens his eyes in time to see you lick the head, humming at the taste.

It's too much, and he has no experience and he knows he'll embarrass himself. "I can't - I won't be able to -"

"Yes, you will. Let me take care of you." Your red lips smile at him once more before you take Steve in your mouth, lipstick smearing on his skin and he raises his hips before he can stop himself, completely lost in the warmth of your mouth. You hum again, swirling your tongue and holding his hips, pushing him back down to sit and looking up to catch his eye, looking filthy and beautiful with your mouth full of him. Steve thinks he may have to close his eyes again but then he looks over and sees Bucky.

Bucky - he's unbuttoned his shirt, dog tags laying on his chest. His hair's a mess from how many times he's pushed his fingers through it, his lips are bitten swollen and pink from how aroused he is and his hand is slowly fisting his hard cock, watching you suck Steve further down your throat.

Steve's pretty sure this sinning will be worth a lot more than ten Hail Mary's, but he's in for whatever reckoning is coming his way. He gasps, feeling himself getting too close, but you know too and you pull off, tightening your hand at the base of his cock and holding him off. "I told you," you say breathlessly, "I'd take care of you." You surge up to capture his lips, rubbing off what's left of your lipstick on his mouth. You lick along his bottom lip, and Steve opens his mouth, letting you tangle your tongue with his and tasting himself in your mouth.

Steve's still painfully hard, but he could kiss you all night long. He wants to touch you but he's not sure where to put his hands, finally resting them on your shoulders and pulling you closer. Steve thinks you're about to straddle his lap and he's wondering how he'll control himself with that when you suddenly giggle and pull away from Steve's mouth and he opens his eyes.

Bucky's behind you, his hands smoothing over your skin, his mouth pressing open, wet kisses along the skin on your back and shoulders. "Sorry, sugar," he murmurs into your skin, his nimble fingers pulling the straps down your arms, "I couldn't wait to touch you."

"Bucky," you try to scold, but your voice is light and amused, "you have to be patient. Steve's first, remember?"

Steve watches as Bucky strips you, his eyes following Bucky's hands and breathing hard at every curve revealed to him. Bucky cups your breasts and teases your nipples with his thumbs as you lean your head back on his shoulder, closing your eyes in pleasure. "Bucky," you whine, "you're being bad."

"You love it," he chuckles in your ear, and Steve watches as Bucky slides a hand down to feel you between your legs. "Stevie, she's so wet for us," Bucky licks his lips and winks at his best friend. "Told ya you'd have a good time tonight."

Steve laughs, nervously. Part of him still can't believe he's here, that Bucky would share you with him and give him this experience. But then you're slapping Bucky's hands away with a soft, "behave," and pulling on his dog tags to bring him in for a rough kiss that has Bucky's hands wandering again. "Patience," you breathe out when you break away again. Bucky grins and kisses your forehead before helping you to your feet and extending a hand to Steve as well.

"The lady says you're first, pal," Bucky teases, and you pull Steve to your bed as Bucky follows.

"Why don't you lay down on your back," you tell Steve, pushing him back gently. "I'll take care of you, remember?"

Steve nods, his heart racing. He lays back on the mattress and watches you rummage in the drawer by your bed. You pull out rubbers - you're a real woman - and you straddle Steve with one in your hand. "Do you know what this is?"

"Yes, ma'am."

You smile, and lean over to kiss him, and Steve shivers at the feeling of your bare skin against his. You're so warm and wet between your legs and Steve can't believe this is really happening. "Do you trust me?" You ask, whispering into his ear.

"Yes!" Steve answers quickly, nodding when you sit up and take him in hand, rolling the rubber on and soothing him when he hisses at how sensitive he is. Then you're hovering over him, lining him up and sinking down - and oh shit Bucky was right.

Heaven. Like walking into heaven.

Steve lets his hands slide up your body as you roll your hips, touching all those valleys and curves he watched Bucky touch. He's drinking in your sounds and moans and he's loud too, he can't help it with how good you're making him feel. He fights to keep his eyes open and watch you above him, but he's falling fast and he can't stop himself. "I'm - I can't stop -" he stutters out, biting his lip, and you lean down to hold his hands and rock against him harder.

"You don't have to stop," you tell him, breathing hard, "I want you to feel good, Steve."

You're squeezing him inside you and he can't hold back, filling the rubber with a loud shout. You slow your movements, riding out his orgasm, and you kiss him hard before rolling off to lay on the bed next to him.

Steve's quiet, staring at the ceiling with a grin on his face, and you giggle and curl into his side. He's almost forgotten about Bucky - until he appears at the foot of the bed, rubber already rolled on and pulling at your ankle impatiently.

"Hope you had fun, punk, but now it's my turn."

You laugh, and move to your hands and knees, winking at Bucky over your shoulder before turning your gaze back to Steve.

"Should I go?" Steve asks, unsure, and you shake your head, balancing yourself to reach for his hand.

"No, sweet boy, you stay right there, and if you want to play more we can, but -" your voice is cut off by your moan as Bucky's pushes inside you, his hands gripping your hips. He leans over to brush a kiss to your shoulder before starting a quick and rough pace.

"But it's my turn now," Bucky groans out the words, jaw clenched and lips bitten. His dog tags bounce as he thrusts into you, and you - you're a vision, fists clutching the blanket, back arched, breasts bouncing and when you open your eyes you smile at Steve.

Steve's eyes are wide and he can't stop watching. He can't believe it but he feels himself starting to stir again, and he hurriedly removes and ties off the rubber, tossing it on the floor in a daze. Not like you care where he throws it, because the headboard's banging against the wall now with how hard and fast Bucky is fucking you.

"Can't get enough of you, you know that," Bucky's muttering, and your head falls to the mattress, moaning in response. "Dreaming about you, about fucking you everywhere, getting my head up your skirt and not caring who sees."

Steve can't believe the words coming out of Bucky's mouth, and the wild look in his eyes. Then those eyes drift to him, and Bucky grins, letting go of your hips for a moment to push his hair out of his eyes.

"You like this, Stevie? You like sharing a girl?"

Steve nods, too stunned to speak, and wraps his hand around his cock, stroking as he watches. He's not sure what he wants, but he wants more and he can't stop watching you, or Bucky.

You wail, something's happened and Steve's not sure what. Bucky pulls out of you and rolls you over and your head lands close to Steve's shoulder. You look up at Steve and smile, your eyes glassy and unfocused. Bucky crawls over you and licks a drop of sweat from between your breasts and you whimper. "Gonna cum for me again, baby?" Bucky asks you, softer now.

"Yeah, want more, Buck. Need more." Your voice is rough, and the slight begging tone shoots straight to Steve's cock.

Bucky grins, charming and roguish, and leans down to kiss you before sitting up and positioning himself between your legs again. Steve is mesmerized as he watches Bucky slide inside you again, watches the way Bucky's eyes roll back at the feel of you and watches how your chest rises and falls with the effort to breathe. Steve syncs his strokes with Bucky's thrusts into you, steady but longer this time, dragging in and out of you and making you moan.

You look up at Steve and then back at Bucky, and he understands what you want.

"Touch our girl, Stevie," Bucky says, nodding to him. "Let's make her feel good, huh?"

Steve nods, rolling on his side and figuring as long as he has permission he'll do what he's wanted to all night long. He lowers his head to your breast and sucks your nipple into his mouth, his hand keeping a steady pace over his hardening cock as your whimpers drive him faster and faster. His tongue flicks around you and Bucky suddenly groans.

"She's squeezing me, Stevie, she likes that," he encourages, and Steve lifts his head before moving to the other breast and sees Bucky wet his thumb in his mouth and then start rubbing you on a spot between your legs. You lurch up, back arched, and Steve files that away to ask Bucky about later.

"Bucky! Steve!" You're crying their names, and Bucky speeds up.

"Cum for us, darlin'," he demands, low and husky. "I'm right there with you. Look at Steve, he's gonna paint you up all pretty."

Steve looks at Bucky, and then down at his own hand flying over his cock, and he realizes what Bucky's saying. Is he - is that what he's supposed to do? You're wailing again, eyes closed and mouth open, and Steve shouts, his mess covering your breasts.

"Fuck..." Bucky swears, and thrusts into you twice more before he cums into rubber, pulling out of you slowly and collapsing onto the bed on your other side.

Steve watches you and Bucky, stunned silent. Your eyes open slowly and you look up at Steve, and you start giggling.

"You should see your face right now, Steve. Are you okay?"

Bucky looks over, and snorts. "Punk can't believe his good luck."

Steve smiles at you, sheepish. "Yeah, something like that, I guess."

You lift your hand, cupping Steve's cheek. "Was it a good first time, baby?"

Steve holds his hand on yours, moving to press a kiss to your palm. "Yes."

Bucky removes and ties off his rubber and looks over at Steve. "Do me a favor, grab a cloth from over there," he points, "and help me clean up our girl. She takes care of us, and we take care of her."

You move your other hand to Bucky's cheek, smiling up at him. "You were right. This was a really good idea."

[sassyhobbits]

for one night standards would you write a scene where aelin cant be found in the castle maybe bc shes doing sth ridiculous with her daughter like a mother daughter photoshoot to surprise rowan with later but when rowan can't find her he gets all panicked and out of his mind bc he still has unresolved trauma from when she was kidnapped and its all angsty until he has both back in his arms but also gives rowan a chance to talk and work through his experience with aelin gone? (because lets face it he probably ignores his feelings about that as much as possible in order to not burden aelin further and because it was just too painful)

loved this idea!!! i also added the prompt “Because I know when I open my eyes this will all turn out to be a dream and I’ll lose you again“ Thank you to everyone who supported ONS!! i had such a fun time writing it and im always happy to come back to it. enjoy!!

~~~

Rowan Whitethorn was generally a patient man.

He knew how to wait his turn, to take his time. He was always one to raise a brow at those who seemed to be in a harried rush to everything. It seemed stressful, to say the least. He was perfectly content to sit back when needed.

Except for now.

He had made a trip back home to Doranelle to surprise Isolde for her graduation from her masters program. Aelin had wanted to come as well, but with the baby and the responsibilities she had back in Orynth, it just hadn’t worked out. Still, she sent her well-wishes to Isolde through a video chat, letting little Eliora babble into the camera and say hello as well.

Their daughter was just over six months now, already growing far too fast for Rowan’s liking. He treasured every moment he got to spend with his two favorite girls.

And although he was always happy to see his family back in Doranelle, it had been the longest he had been away since Eliora had been born. It made him highly impatient to return home.

His jet touched down in Terrasen in the early afternoon. It was summer, though the day was mild. The sky was a vivid blue, fat white clouds floating lethargically on the breeze. Absolutely beautiful.

Due to the time difference, he hadn’t been able to call Aelin before he had got on the plane. He tried to reach her as he slid into the dark sedan that would drive him from the airport to the palace, but all he got was her voicemail.

Maybe she was in the shower, or changing Eliora’s diaper. Maybe their daughter had a finicky night of sleeping and now the pair were trying to catch up on their slumber. It was fine. Or so Rowan told himself. He still hadn’t been able to stop the small clench of nerves at the pit of his stomach.

He scolded those foolish feelings. Of course his wife and daughter were safe. They were just waiting for him to return.

The drive was quick and easy and he was back at the palace before he knew it. His feet carried him towards the room he shared with Aelin, a small smile curling on his lips as he thought about having his wife and daughter in his arms once more. He missed the feeling of Aelin curled against him as they slept.

“Aelin?” he called, pushing into their room and nudging the door shut behind him. “I’m home.”

He was greeted by nothing but silence. No sound of running water in the bathroom to suggest a shower, so soft snores or shifting sheets meaning a nap. He strode into the bedroom, finding that the bed was already neatly made, not a thread out of place.

He dropped his bags by the dresser, noting that Aelin’s phone had been left there, face up. He picked it up, seeing that she still had the notification of a missed call from him and a few miscellaneous emails that hadn’t been checked.

“Aelin?” he said again, moving towards the nursery. He had gotten used to the sight of Aelin sitting in the rocking chair with Eliora, either when the babe was hungry or she just wanted to hold her daughter. Rowan had countless pictures on his phone of the two of them in that position. The sunlight streamed from the window and hit them just right in the mornings, making them look like a painting.

But the nursery was empty and the window was shut.

Those nerves reared their ugly heads once more. He had no reason to assume the worst, the palace was one of the safest places in the kingdom.

But… Aelin had once been snatched away from him on palace grounds. During their own wedding.

Rowan shook himself. No. That was the past. This was now.

Since his wife didn’t have her phone, he knew it would be fruitless to try and contact her that way. But, Rowan knew Aelin better than he knew himself.

He began a sweep of the palace, checking out her favorite haunts. The library was a bust, so was the gym. He had checked the kitchens to see if she had swooped in for a snack or something sweet, but she wasn’t there either. Rowan luckily ran into Aedion, asking the prince if he knew where Aelin was. But her cousin hadn’t seen her at all that morning.

With each failed attempt at finding them, Rowan’s fears steadily crept up. It wouldn’t be much longer before they had wrapped themselves around his throat and pulled him deep into their depths.

He took a long breath to center himself before striding out into the gardens. His heart started beating faster, not seeing any sign of her at first. Rowan’s fingers curled into tight fists as he stepped over fresh, green grass. Gods, where were they? If something had happened to them…

But before Rowan’s fears could conquer him, he heard a soft voice on the summer breeze. A familiar voice at that. Relief washed through him, heavenly and soothing, as he followed that melodic sound.

It was Aelin. It didn’t take him long to realize that she was reading one of Eliora’s favorite books to her. It was a silly tale, and it was made even more vivid when Aelin told it. She was an excellent story-teller. They didn’t know how much Eliora really understood, whether she just liked the brightly colored pictures or the faces her mother would make when she told it. Regardless, it always made the little princess smile.

Rowan rounded a hedge, a warmth spreading through his chest at the sight before him.

Aelin had spread out a large quilt under the shade of a willow. Some of Eliora’s toys were scattered about, but currently, the toddler sat in her mother’s lap, wide-eyes glued on the book before her.

Rowan couldn’t help but think Aelin looked stunning today. Her golden hair was left loose, swaying on the breeze, the summer sun bringing a healthy flush to her cheeks. She wore a silky, pale blue wrap-dress, bare feet tucked beneath her as she read. Eliora looked mighty charming too in a bright pink dress with a matching bow.

Rowan strolled towards them, Aelin’s eyes jumping towards him as she noticed his presence. A huge smile broke out on her stunning face.

“You’re home!” she greeted, putting the book she had been reading aloud down. Eliora, no longer entertained by her mother’s storytelling, crawled over the quilt to grab one of her brightly colored toys. “I thought you were going to call me when you landed?”

“I did, Fireheart,” Rowan said. He lowered herself behind Aelin on the blanket, his wife situated between his legs, before wrapping his arms tightly around her and tugging her back into his chest securely. “You left your phone in our room.”

Rowan placed a lingering kiss on Aelin's shoulder, breathing in her scent deeply. She was safe, in his arms, Eliora happy as can be, sticking her toys in her mouth. Everything was fine.

Aelin turned in his arms slightly, brows knitted slightly. Rowan knew she could see right through him.

“What is it, Ro?”

“It’s nothing, love.”

Aelin narrowed her eyes at him, as if to say, Don’t you lie to me, Buzzard.

Rowan heaved a sigh, reaching out and brushing some of Aelin’s silky hair behind her ear. “It’s just… you didn’t answer me when I called, and I couldn’t find you and Eliora when I got back. I just couldn’t help but think…” His hand drifted until it rested on Aelin’s abdomen, right over the scar she bore from fighting her way to freedom. He saw understanding on his wife’s face.

“We’re here, Rowan. We’re safe.” She placed a gentle hand on Rowan’s cheek, bringing his gaze towards her.

“I know,” Rowan whispered, jaw clenched. “But sometimes, I just worry that when I open my eyes, this will all turn out to be a dream. And I’ll lose you all over again.”

Aelin took his hand, giving it a firm squeeze. “This is real, Rowan. We both fought for this life, for each other. And nothing, nothing, is going to take it away. Ever.”

Rowan saw the determination blazing in Aelin’s eyes. She was right, of course. This was their life now, they had built their happiness bit by bit, even when so much seemed to want to go wrong. But Aelin and Eliora… they were everything to him. He didn’t know if he would ever be able to banish his fears entirely, but he would treasure every moment he spent with them.

Rowan leaned in, kissing Aelin softly before murmuring against her lips, “I missed you.”

She smiled, kissing him again. “I missed you too, Ro.”

They indulged in a few more slow, sweet kisses before loud babbling sounded, tiny hands twisting into Rowan’s trouser. He looked down, finding Eliora’s wide eyes looking up at him, flashing a gummy smile.

Aelin laughed. “It looks like someone else missed you, too.”

Rowan grinned, reaching out and picking up his daughter. He held her up high, making her release the sweetest little laughs, little legs kicking in delight. He kissed Eliora all over her little face before tucking her in one arm, throwing the other around Aelin. Immense love and devotion flowed through him, holding his two girls close.

No wonder why he had been so impatient to get home.

[verfound]

What is More Than a Checkbox about? 👀

Sex. 😂 No, seriously.

So @fenheart87, ages ago, gave this prompt: angsty ish. Marinette goes to luka to lose her v card before college. When asked why she responds, "I trust you to show me how to make love and not just fuck me. I want to feel loved at least once."

And it was supposed to be a short, simple, PWP piece, but then it caught feelings ("Feelings? In MY smut? ...it's more likely than you think!" 😘). This was back when I was first starting to set up my lemonade stand, so it was also supposed to be an exercise in writing smut. And then the next thing I knew, I was 10k in and the eejits were still just fighting about why Marinette was going to Luka and what the fuck, Marinette.

The full title is "More Than a Checkbox on a Stupid List", and it's three parts long. The first part is "The Proposition of Luka Couffaine" (where Marinette hatches this plan to ask Luka to help her lose her virginity and he does not react the way she thought he would), part two is "The Wooing of Marinette Dupain-Cheng" (where they have two or three weeks before Luka has to go on tour again and he's determined to do things the Right Way and actually date her before he has sex with her), and part three is the "The Fucking of Marinette Dupain-Cheng" (where he comes back from tour and they don't leave his room for an entire weekend).

And you may have just bumped this way up on my list, because I really loved this idea, went rabid writing P1, and haven't actually touched it since...

(Nothing explicit under the cut, but they are discussing things - so M?)

“Actually, you know what?” she said, her voice a little higher and faster than normal. She cleared her throat and slapped a too-bright smile on her face. “I think I would like some coffee.”

When he lifted his head and looked at her through half-lidded eyes, her heart almost stopped entirely. It was almost enough to make her rethink her plan – almost. She swallowed and looked down, her cheeks warming under his gaze. She was eighteen now, damn it. A legal adult. She could handle something as simple as having sex with someone without letting feelings get in the way.

…she hoped.

“One coffee, coming up,” he said, grabbing his own mug before heading to the counter along the wall.

“Th-thanks,” she said, wincing at her stutter. She cleared her throat, and he hummed in response before taking a sip of his own coffee.

“So what brings you over, Ma-Ma-Marinette?” he asked, reaching into the cabinet for another mug. She rolled her eyes at his gentle teasing and took a deep, steadying breath. It was now or never. “Not that I’m not happy to see you – I’m always happy to see –”

“I want to lose my virginity,” she said in a rush. The mug slipped from his fingers and fell to the counter, bouncing off the ledge before it smashed on the floor.

“O-ok?” he asked. He almost sounded like he was choking. His back was to her, but she could see his fingers flexing as they gripped the counter. His shoulders had become suddenly tense, his arms stiff as he leaned forward.

“And I want you to help me do it,” she continued. Her voice was steadier this time, firmer. More certain.

“…o-ok?” he repeated, and he was definitely choking that time. She bit her lip and looked down at her hands. She picked at her thumb while she waited for him to respond. When it seemed like he wouldn’t, she looked back up to find he was cleaning up the broken mug. His back was still to her.

“Luka?” she called. She cleared her throat when her voice came out too quiet. He stopped picking up shards of mug. “It would…be kinda great if you said something.”

“Sorry,” he sighed, dropping the pieces of mug he’d been picking up and bringing his hands up to rub at his face. “Processing.”

“There’s not much to process,” she said with a (slightly nervous) laugh.

“There’s a hell of a lot to process, Marinette,” he bit back, and she winced at his tone. She hadn’t expected him to sound…angry. “Jesus Christ. I have not had enough coffee for this.”

“Ok, trying not to be hurt,” she laughed weakly. He slapped his hands on his knees and pushed himself up, forgetting the broken mug and turning to lean on the counter across from her. He folded his hands together and hung his head, taking a few deep breaths. His hands were so tense his knuckles were blanching.

“You want to have sex,” he said, his head still down and eyes closed. She nodded, and when she realized he wouldn’t be able to see that she cleared her throat.

“Yes,” she said firmly.

“With me,” he continued.

“Yes,” she said again. He looked up, an utterly blank and unreadable expression on his face. She would almost say guarded, except there was nothing for Luka to be guarded about.

“…why?” he asked. He sounded absolutely baffled. She blinked, her brow furrowing in confusion.

“Um…” she started, trying not to laugh again. How had this become so awkward? It wasn’t supposed to be awkward. It was just Luka. It was supposed to be straightforward, simple, and easy. It was supposed to be…Luka. “Why sex or why you?”

“Yes,” he said. She raised her eyebrows, and he groaned as he dropped his face against the counter. His voice was muffled when he continued. “Both. What the fucking hell, Marinette?”

…ok. She had pissed him off somehow.

“It’s not a big deal –” she huffed. She was suddenly feeling very defensive and a little angry herself. She looked down at her lap, smoothing out the skirt of the dress she had worn.

“It’s a very big deal!” he snapped. He winced at the look she shot him and shook his head. “I’m sorry. I just…help me understand this. I’m not…I’m not saying no. I’m just trying to understand.”

“There’s not a lot to understand,” she snapped. “I’m sick of being a virgin and want to have sex. I trust you, Luka. I trust that you’d show me how it’s supposed to be done. Not just…fuck me.”

The strangled sound he tried to choke down made her raise her eyebrows a bit higher. She looked away and pushed out a breath, crossing her arms over her chest. The move felt defensive, like she was trying to protect herself – from what, though? This was Luka. Her friend. Her good friend. Her good friend that she had maybe been a bit in love with for a long time now, but her good friend all the same. She knew he wouldn’t hurt her – that was part of the reason she had come to him for this! He…he…

“I trust you, Luka,” she finally said, her voice soft. “I want you to show me what it’s like to make love. I just…I want to feel loved. At least once.”

The nerves had disappeared from her gut, replaced by something worse. Something unpleasant and twisted and awful. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Luka was supposed to laugh at her for being dumb, or agree without any argument. Because they were friends, and they trusted each other. Because he was older and wiser and more mature, and he had already done this. He had already had those experiences. So he would get it, and he would have no problem teaching her.

She squeaked when he was suddenly crushing her to his chest. She hadn’t heard him move until he was right beside her, and then he had gathered her up in his arms and tugged her close. His hand cupped the back of her head and gently guided it to his shoulder, and she shivered as he pressed his lips to her crown and stayed there. Her arms found the familiar path around him, winding up his back and fisting his shirt in her hands. She listened to him breathing, following his lead like she’d done so many times before until their deep, steady breaths were in sync. He pursed his lips against her head, kissing her firmly, before he pulled back and dropped his face against her shoulder. He squeezed his arms around her.

“You are loved, Marinette,” he said, his voice thick with an emotion she was too afraid to place. “You are so loved. How do you not know that?"

“That’s not…that’s not what I meant, Luka,” she mumbled. He pulled away, his hand sliding from the back of her head to cup her jaw. He brushed his thumb along her cheek, his eyes moving along her face as he studied her. She swallowed, her eyes dropping from his own, and he sighed.

“Then tell me what you mean,” he said. His hand flexed against her face, and then he was sitting on the stool next to her. He leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees, and watched her. “Explain to me exactly what you mean, because I don’t understand at all. And I…I need to understand before I say anything.”

“You’re going to say no,” she said. She wondered if she sounded as bitter as she thought she did. By the way he rolled his eyes, she figured she did.

“I’m not saying no, but I’m not saying yes, either,” he sighed, raising an arm to rub at his eyes. “I’m just trying to understand.”

“What’s there to understand, though?” she whined. He cocked an eyebrow at that, and she crossed her arms over her chest again. “I want to have sex. I figured it would be smart to do it with someone I trusted instead of some random guy. And…I trust you.”

“I’m glad you do,” he said. There was still an edge to his voice that made her glare at him, and he sighed before hanging his head again. “I want you to trust me, Mari. I just…you want to have sex. I just want to know why. What the hell started this?”

“We were talking about it on my birthday – the girls and me,” she said. She was glaring at the microwave, her entire body stiff. “I’m the only one who hasn’t done it yet. Alya, Mylène, Juleka and Rose, even Alix – everyone but me has done it, and –”

“Ok, wait, hold on,” he groaned, holding up both hands. She looked back to him to find a grimace on his face, his eyes firmly shut. “One. Please don’t talk about Jules, Ro, and sex. I know they’re doing it, but I don’t need to know they’re doing it, ok? Two. If the only reason you want to have sex is because you’re the only virgin left in your friend group –”

“Oh my God, Luka, it’s not just that!” she huffed. She hopped off her stool, and he watched as she began pacing. His eyebrows rose. She was wringing her hands, bending her fingers back like she’d overworked them and was working out the kinks. “I’m not that stupid!”

“Good, because it really sounds like you are,” he said with a roll of his eyes. She turned back towards him and crossed her arms. Her eyes were starting to burn, just a little. She fell back on the anger and annoyance to keep herself from crying. That was a whole other level of mortification she was not prepared to deal with right now.

“Do you want to have sex or not?” she huffed. He groaned and pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes.

“That’s not the point –” he started, but she snorted.

“It pretty much is,” she scoffed. He glared at her beneath his hands.

“Could you get off the defensive for one fucking minute and talk this out with me like the mature adult you’re pretending to be?” he snapped. Her lips pressed together, and her hands balled into fists at her side. She sucked in a sharp breath. He sighed and slumped forward. “I’m sorry.”

“I should go,” she said, glancing towards the door. “This…this was a mistake. I’m sorry, too. Can we just forget I ever did this?”

“No,” he said. She jerked her head back to him, eyebrows high. He groaned, rubbing at his face again. “I am not akumatized enough for this.”

She snorted, biting down on a smile. She knew he saw it anyway when he grinned at her.

“Marinette, I just need you to talk to me,” he said. “I…I want to have sex. With you. But I need to understand why you want to do this first.”

“It’s not good enough that I want to lose with my virginity with someone I trust?” she mumbled quietly, staring at her feet.

“No, it’s not,” he sighed. “Not…not if it’s me.”

She frowned, her face scrunching in confusion.

“What…what should that matter?” she asked. “I mean…what, would you feel differently if I was asking Dingo?”

He choked, burying his face in his hands as another groan escaped him.

“You don’t even want to know what I’d feel if you asked fucking Dingo,” he huffed. She tried not to laugh at that, knowing it really wasn’t the time, but a small giggle escaped her when he lowered his hands and she saw he was grinning at her. “Promise me you won’t ask Dingo.”

“He was never even in the running,” she snorted. He sighed and nodded, still smiling. That was an improvement, at least. She picked at a loose thread on her dress (she’d have to fix that later) and bit her lip. “It…it was always you. It was only you.”

[senacal]

Hello! Could you do a jealous! Erik Lensherr x Reader. Theyre both professors and all btw. Thanks!

Assumptions

Request: Requested by a lovely Anon 💕

Pairing: Erik Lehnsherr x Gender Neutral Reader

Prompt: Hello! Could you do a jealous!Erik Lensherr x Reader. They’re both professors and all btw. Thanks!

Warnings: Misunderstandings, jealousy 

Abbreviations: (Y/F/N)- your full name, (Y/N)- your name

Author’s Note: 😬 Sorry this took so long to get out, I had a little bit of writer’s block and of course my dear friend, no motivation. The reader is gender-neutral cause I wasn’t sure what was wanted.

As always, Requests Are Open!

(Not my Gif)

(Y/F/N) loved their job. They couldn’t explain what had convinced them to teach at Charles Xavier’s school for gifted youngsters; perhaps it was Charles Xavier himself, or more likely, the student’s enthusiasm to learn from them. (Y/N) never expected to be a teacher, considering their high school and college experiences weren’t the most exciting or thrilling. They were almost convinced Teachers hated them, which is why it was ironic that they had become a teacher. 

It was a year after (Y/N) had begun teaching that they had met Erik Lehnsherr. He was… different. Not in a bad way, but he was closed off. And he only ever talked to Charles, Raven, and occasionally Hank. For a month, (Y/N) thought he didn’t speak. There was nothing wrong with that either; a few of their students preferred to remain mute, and some students preferred to use Sign Language over speaking to communicate with (Y/N). So, if Erik was mute, it wasn’t an issue. (Y/N) wanted to get to know him better. Which was why they had attempted to be Erik’s friend.

Whenever Erik would enter a room, (Y/N) would casually make their way to him and make small talk. Most of the time they were met with silence. (Y/N) could have sworn Erik smiled the last time they talked to him, so they knew they were getting somewhere. Soon enough, Erik would start responding to them, small-short answers at first, but it was still something. (Y/N) even asked him if they were bugging him when the short answers continued. (He said no, but (Y/N) wasn’t so sure). Sometimes they wished they were an empath so they could get a read on Erik’s feelings, but alas, they were only able to heal an object’s physical wounds. But it was okay because they were a valued member of the team and Charles, Raven, and Hank loved them for them. 

(Y/N) was almost worried Erik would never open up to them, but as soon as he joined the staff of Charles Xavier’s school, (Y/N) noticed Erik lingering near their classroom. It was almost as if he was seeking them out. (Y/N)’s heart fluttered in giddiness at the mere thought. Whenever they saw Erik in the halls, Erik would greet them with a hello and a kind smile. It was the best part of their day. 

It got to the point where (Y/N) would expect to see Erik before they both went to their respective classes, (Y/N) to anatomy, and Erik to physics. This was why they found it disappointing that Erik was nowhere to be found. They wouldn’t have been too worried because even mutants got the flu and needed a vacation, but it was now the fourth day that (Y/N) hadn’t seen Erik and it was very concerning. Did something happen? Did Erik get hurt? Was he seriously ill? Did he leave again? Did he just not want to see (Y/N)? (Y/N) couldn’t stop their mind from jumping to conclusions. It even distracted them from their teaching, so they would often dismiss their class early. Why waste their’s and their student’s time if they couldn’t concentrate? In fact, with the constant short classes, (Y/N) shouldn’t have been surprised to see Charles stroll into their classroom. 

“(Y/N), may I speak with you?” Charles asked once it was apparent that (Y/N) was too wrapped up in their thoughts to notice Charles.

“Hmm? Oh, sorry Charles, I’m just a bit distracted, what’s up?” They asked. (Y/N) sat at their desk hoping the steady position will get them to focus on Charles.

“It’s come to my attention that you’ve been letting the students out of class early the past few days, is anything the matter?” Charles asked. 

“Oh, uh, no, I just, I’ve been distracted lately is all,” (Y/N)’s cheeks flushed in shame. They couldn’t let this issue affect their job any more than it already has.

“Distracted… by anything in particular?” He moved his wheelchair closer to (Y/N).

(Y/N) shifted so they could face Charles, “Is Erik okay?”

Charles raised his brows, “Why wouldn’t he be?” 

“No reason, I just haven’t seen him is all, I was concerned,” (Y/N) shrugged. Maybe Erik really was avoiding them.

“He’s fine. I mean he was acting odd around me as well, but he said he was distracted. Seems to be a lot of that going on around here these days,” Charles nudged (Y/N)’s hand with a teasing smile.

(Y/N) huffed a small laugh, “I suppose I’m not the only one,” they drummed their fingers on their lap, “Don’t laugh, but I think Erik might be avoiding me and I’m kind of afraid that it might actually be true.”

“I won’t laugh at that, but Erik is a complex person. Sometimes he feels the need to isolate himself when he’s troubled, that could be why he’s been staying away,” Charles shrugged.

Charles had a point, Erik didn’t seem the type to confide in someone if something was troubling him. 

Charles grabbed (Y/N)’s hand, “I hope everything works itself out, can’t have my best teacher struggling.”

(Y/N) smiled gratefully at Charles’s blatant concern. He was their best friend and they knew he was merely concerned for them. Before they could respond with reassurance, however, Erik stepped into the classroom.

“Oh, sorry, I- sorry,” Erik ran his hand through his hair, “Can I ask,” He pointed from Charles to (Y/N) “are you… do you two- Anything happening here?” 

(Y/N)’s brows furrowed at the question, “anything like what?”

Charles snorted with laughter next to them. He waved his hand as if to apologize but the laughter bubbling from his lips made it hard to believe. “What?” (Y/N) frowned.

Charles dropped (Y/N)’s hand and huffed softly, “Nothing, darling. Erik, a word if  you please?” Charles maneuvered his wheelchair outside of (Y/N)’s classroom. 

(Y/N) watched as Erik walked out after Charles with a look of confusion. Was there something they weren’t getting?

_____________________________________________________________

Erik has had a rough couple of days. Before, Erik would usually brush off any inconvenience and continue with his day. But ever since he met (Y/N) it’s been a little more difficult to ignore the problem at hand. And that problem came in the form of one Charles Xavier. Erik knew someone as wonderful as (Y/N) had to be taken, but taken by Charles? Not that Charles wasn’t a good person, he was the best person Erik knew, he just really hated that of all people, (Y/N) was dating Charles; his best friend.  

When Erik first met (Y/N) he knew there was something special about them, and not just because of their power. No, (Y/N) was the most caring, funny, and charming person he has ever had the pleasure of meeting. They always made sure to include Erik when he first arrived, and they made sure that he wasn’t feeling neglected. These small acts of kindness were enough to make Erik fall for them. But again, (Y/N) was with Charles. 

At first, Erik thought he could ignore his feelings and simply brush them aside. But that was easier said than done. (Y/N) was always on his mind. Whenever he was in class, in the danger room, driving. There was no escaping (Y/N). So, Erik accepted his fate and became their friend; Only now he’d see Charles around more often, and he’d feel guilty for even fantasizing about (Y/N). Erik was living in hell.

The other day, Erik had the intention of telling Charles how he felt about (Y/N). When he walked into the living room, both (Y/N) and Charles were sat by the fireplace, talking and laughing. He realized he couldn’t get in the way of their relationship. He couldn’t leave again though, it didn’t sit well with him. Instead, Erik chose to avoid both Charles and (Y/N). Whenever he would see (Y/N), he’d turn the other way and pretend like they weren’t there. He altered his route so he wouldn’t run the risk of running into them. When he saw Charles, Erik would find a way out of the conversation and avoid him as well. 

This had been going on for a week now. But even avoiding (Y/N) was like torture; he missed them. He wanted to see them smile when he said hello; he wanted to see them laugh when he told a joke. He missed them. So he went to find them. But when he did, they were with Charles. He didn’t know why he felt so disappointed. He had foolishly hoped to get some alone time with (Y/N). 

It got to the point where Erik had finally asked if (Y/N) and Charles were in fact in a relationship; It sure seemed like it. He shifted nervously in place, avoiding Charles’s eyes. He wished he was using his helmet right now. 

“Erik, tell me, do you like (Y/N)?” Charles asked casually.

“What would make you think that?” He mumbled.

“Oh, I don’t know, perhaps it’s the disappearing act you seem to pull whenever we’re together or the fact that you haven’t spoken to me or them in days?” Charles raised his brows accusingly. He obviously wasn’t as in the dark as Erik had hoped.

“Maybe I just don’t like talking to you?” Erik shrugged.

Charles rolled his eyes, “Please if that were true I’d have known long ago.”

Erik ran his hand through his hair, “What if I did? There’s no chance for me, I know that. And I would never do anything to jeopardize our friendship.”

Charles smiled, “Well, I’m glad to hear that, but there is something you should know. (Y/N) and I aren’t together.”

Erik frowned, “Did you two break up?”

Charles chuckled, “No, you git, we were never together. We’re just friends. I promise. And if it helps, I’m pretty sure they like you too.”

“Really?” Erik grinned. It seemed he could only string together unintelligent answers now that he knew (Y/N) was single.

“Would I lie to you?” At Erik’s look, Charles rolled his eyes, “When it counts?”

“No, I suppose not,” Erik cleared his throat and finally met Charles’s eyes, “Now if you’ll excuse me, there’s someone I should talk to,” He pointed to (Y/N)’s classroom door behind him with his thumb.

“Definitely. I’d wish you luck, but I am positive this will go well for you both,” Charles winked and left Erik to talk to (Y/N).

Erik took a deep breath and re-entered the classroom.

(Y/N) looked up from fiddling with their fingers when he walked in. They smiled when they saw it was him. It was a pleasant surprise. They had expected Charles to come in. “Erik, it’s been a minute.”

Erik shrugged, “Yeah, I wanted to apologize for that. I uh, may I sit?” He motioned to the seat near their desk.

(Y/N) nodded seeming eager.

Erik pulled the chair closer to (Y/N) and took a seat. “First off, I wanted to apologize for my behavior. I shouldn’t have been avoiding you.”

“So you were avoiding me?” (Y/N) asked. 

“Yes, but not because I don’t like you,” Erik rushed when he noticed the disappointed look on their face, “I like you a lot actually. That’s why I’ve been avoiding you.”

“That makes absolutely no sense.” (Y/N) crossed their arms over their chest, “You don’t avoid people you claim to like.”

“That’s a good point, but in my defense, I thought you were dating my best friend.” He drummed his fingers on his thighs, “I know it seems stupid now. I feel stupid, but it only seemed logical at the time.”

(Y/N) smiled and shifted closer to Erik so their knees were touching, “You were jealous of Charles?” 

“I know, I know. I’m an idiot, but you had to see how close you two are,” Erik defended.

(Y/N) laughed but nodded in agreement, “Okay, I forgive you.” They took Erik’s fidgeting hands into their own, “And if it helps, I like you too.”

Erik beamed, “It does.”

“Good,” (Y/N) let go of one hand and laced their fingers together with the hand they still held, “Now, ask me on a date so we can stop being idiots.”

Erik laughed happily, “very well. (Y/N), would you like to go on a date with me?”

“Erik, this is so sudden,” (Y/N) teased.

Erik rolled his eyes fondly, “Yeah, only took me a couple of months to get the courage to ask you out.”

(Y/N) bit their lip, “I’d love to go out Erik.” They leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to Erik’s cheek. 

“It’s about damn time,” Charles’s voice echoed in both mutant’s minds. 

[teamhappyme]

to care for you

rafael barba x female!reader

referenced cases from S17E04 and S17E16

word count: 4k

a/n: this is my first fic that I’m letting the world see and I’m... terrified. i hope whoever reads this gets some joy out of it. shoutout to @qvid-pro-qvo and @hurricanejjareau , y’all got me roped into loving the SVU boys, and this would not have been created if I hadn’t found your blogs. big inspiration over here. alright, here we go friends.

****

“Well you’re going, right?” 

“I haven’t decided.” “Haven’t decided? It’s Liv and Noah, Barba. A christening for the cutest little boy and the most deserving mother. They’ve been through hell this year, they deserve our support. Besides, you’re a devout Catholic, you should be all in for this.”

“First of all, he’s getting christened in a Unitarian church. Second, I wouldn’t exactly use the term devout. The last time I went to church was with you and Carisi after that trafficking case last year.” He said while grabbing another slice of pizza. In your three years since joining the SVU this was the first time you saw Rafael Barba eat a slice of pizza. 

“Careful. You might get some grease on that thousand dollar suit, Counselor.” He glared at you before taking a bite. “If you’re worried about the priest smelling your absence out, Carisi and I have enough devotion to pass on to you.”

“I don’t want any of Carisi’s Catholic guilt.” “You need me to take your confession?” You asked with a smirk. 

There weren’t many people that could get away with pushing Barba’s buttons without getting chewed out by the ADA in his next breath. And when you first started out with the squad, there were many occasions where you and Barba had some heated arguments.

Getting transferred to SVU was an overwhelming experience. You were thrown into the understaffed department right along with Carisi, so the two of you had to step up pretty quick for the unit. There was no adjustment period, trust wasn’t built, it was forced upon the squad. It took about two months for you to really trust the other detectives, but once you did, the unit got into a groove. Cases were being solved left and right and you started to understand the routine of the SVU. 

Until you had to testify. It was six months in, and it was your first testimony with the unit. It was also the first rape case you worked with minor victims. There were four fifteen year old girls accusing their history teacher of rape, two of which disclosed to you. 

You prepped with Barba for an hour the night before, making sure you knew the case inside and out. You felt confident in your answers, and were ready to take the stand. Until the following morning. On your walk down to the courtroom with him, you rushed into the ladies room to vomit up your coffee and your anxiety. Public speaking was never one of your strong suits, and Barba had cautioned you to be prepared for Buchanon’s toxic cross examination.

As you washed your hands and cleared your face, Rafael stayed outside the door, even deterring a woman from coming in. Once you exited, he was waiting at the side, pulling a granola bar and stick of gum out of his blazer pocket. You took the food, as he gave you a nod and waited for your okay to continue the walk down to the courtroom. A slight nod of your own and weak smile got his feet moving again. 

That trial was the first olive branch extended between you and Rafael. He wasn’t one to offer warm greetings, and since you were often glued to Carisi’s hip, it was hard for him to separate you from the enthusiastic detective. There were passive aggressive comments relayed back and forth while trying to indict a perp, and long nights spent deliberating probable cause at the round table. But it wasn’t until you accompanied Liv to One Hogan Place, in a particularly bad mood when you sassed the ADA back after he made a comment about your witnesses being incredibly unreliable, not having time for the shenanigans. 

After that moment, Rafael knew that he could trust you. The passive aggressive comments yielded, but the sass continued. The repertoire the two of you were slowly building drew quite the audience, Carisi and Rollins almost always feeding the fire with more topics to discuss. 

About a year into your tenure here, you started to check in on Barba. The first time you stopped by was originally a business call. Liv needed a warrant asap, already staking out the apartment of a suspect. You rushed over to the courthouse, trying to find any ADA’s secretary when you saw Barba still in his office at midnight. According to Carmen, he rarely went home before 9:00. After that night, you made it a habit to check in on him at least once a week. The DA’s office was a cutthroat environment, and Barba’s office was an even lonelier place. 

Thursday nights were penciled in for your unofficial drop ins, almost through the week but still burning the midnight oil. You would show up around 10:00 with pizza for you, and sushi for his expensive taste every time, knowing neither one of you had time to eat dinner yet. Most of the time, the two of you would work on your respective cases, sometimes sharing notes if the work overlapped. But if it was a slow week, sometimes the two of you would just, talk. It was nice to be able to talk to someone who understood the demanding nature of the job. Your family in particular couldn’t understand why you loved this career so much, but your squad could. It was reassuring to have their support.

“Alright, enough with the holier than thou attitude, Detective. I actually wanted to talk to you about the case.” Sitting up a little straighter in your chair, you wiped your hands on a napkin as he pulled out a manila folder. “I’ve been encouraged by the D.A. to drop the charges against Bobby D’Amico and Noel Panko.”

“What?” “And I have a motions hearing scheduled for Friday morning to dismiss the charges.”

After everything the squad had done for this case, what you saw Amanda put herself through. It was all for nothing.

“Barba, you can’t be serious. We have three victims, two willing to testify. We have footage of them attempting to rape Rollins for crying out loud.”

“Kristi Cryer has changed her story too many times. She was raped, then it was consensual, it was Panko, it was Panko and D’Amico. A jury will never believe her story.” You crossed your arms over your chest. “The jury won’t believe her or you won’t?”

“Hey, you know this isn’t about what I think. This isn’t a case we can win. We have to look at the optics.”

“The optics,” you muttered as you stood up from your seat. “Multiple women were raped by two well-known men in New York society, and the D.A. doesn’t want to make any enemies, right?” 

“You’re taking this worse than Liv did.” You scoffed. “Am I? Good. Because for the rest of their lives, those girls will have to live with the fact that their rapists are still out there. Not to mention their reputations will be ruined. People are going to call them liars, and whores. Their lives are never going to be the same. All because you won’t stand up to the D.A. and do what’s right?” 

Rafael stood up now, his loosened tie swinging from the sudden movement. “If this goes to trial, it will not go our way.”

“What about when you went after DCFS? You went after Musio, Grayson, Sheridan,”

“That was different,” “Why because it was Liv?”

“Because the department was a mess, and there were months worth of evidence of neglect and backdating reports. You were there, and if I remember correctly you were fighting alongside Liv to get me to prosecute.”

You ran your fingers through your hair, not willing to accept that this case was over. “These girls deserve justice, Barba. You were there when Panko went off at Dodds, he knows he’s done.”

“I want these guys just as bad as you do, Y/n. But we do not have the evidence. It’s a he said she said case, with one other accusation from a year ago without a rape kit. Not to mention Rollins went undercover without notifying a superior, tainting the whole investigation. We will make a fool out of ourselves and lose this case in court.”

“And it’s all about winning for the D.A.’s office, isn’t it. Can’t do anything out of the kindness of your hearts, can you?” You knew you crossed the line as you saw Rafael’s shoulder’s drop the slightest bit, his jaw clenched in place. 

“Maybe if you passed the Bar instead of failing three times you could understand why we can’t pursue this. We can’t bring a case to trial based on our emotions. This isn’t your tissue loaded desks, this is a courthouse.” 

You broke the tense eye contact you were holding after his statement. Insulting your academic failures and empathetic tendencies in one foul swoop. That was a low blow, even for the counselor.

Rafael knew his words pierced you. He pushed his chair back and let out a breath, getting ready to back track. But you beat him to the punch. 

“You know, my capability of empathizing with victims is the reason why you’ve put so many rapists away. If they had to speak to you, there would be no cases for you to even prosecute.”

This wasn’t a normal spout between the two of you. Things rarely got personal, and if they did, they were never this spiteful. 

“Then I guess there’s a reason I’m prosecuting in front of the judge and jury and you’re dealing with the victims.”

You scoffed at his final statement. You knew he was cocky, but you didn’t think he would use your insecurities or shortcomings against you. Especially not the fact that you failed the Bar Exam three times, which was only disclosed to him once Carisi opened his big mouth.

Covering your head with your beanie, you made your way to the door before either one of you could do more damage. You fought the urge to apologize, knowing you would need space before you could think of a response.

“Have a good night, Counselor.”

****

“Oh my goodness, Benjamin! Look at that tower you made with Maura! Did you show Luke?” “No. Mama saw it!” You smiled at the two year old through the phone, his own grin lighting up the room even over facetime. “Benjamin, is mama there? Y/n/n wants to talk to her for a minute.”

“I can bring you to her!” Maura took the phone out of the toddler’s hands, but you quickly protested so you could say goodbye to your godson. “Bye Benny, I love you buddy.” He blew you a kiss and you caught it as your little cousin brought you across the room. 

“Auntie Leah! Y/n/n wants to talk to you.” She handed the phone over while settling in next to her aunt. You saw your older cousin’s calming face, and couldn’t help the tears in your eyes.

“I haven’t even said anything and you're already crying,” You let out a laugh and took a sip of water. “Sorry. It’s been a long day.” 

“Y/n, are you at the precinct? It’s 8:00 your time on thanksgiving, what are you doing there?”

“There was some work I needed to get done. If I can’t be with you guys, I can at least get a head start so I can come home for Christmas.” The squadroom was empty now, but it had only been filled by the desk sergeant and a couple uni’s until five. You’d been here since noon, not succeeding in spending the holiday alone in your apartment. “Besides, I’ve been able to ignore all of my mother’s phone calls with the ‘I’m working’ excuse. Has she called you guys yet?”

“Just mom once. You know she doesn’t mean it to hurt you, she just wishes you could spend time with family for the holidays.” “I know.”

Your family meant the world to you, and having missed the last two years of holidays was hard on you. Sure, you saw them eventually, but Christmas and Thanksgiving weren’t the same alone.

“Since I’ve already started Christmas shopping, is there anything Benjamin needs or wants from his godmother?” “He has requested, and I quote, ‘y/n/n’s nummy cookies’.” The smile that spread across your face was so big it almost hurt. That baby boy was probably your favorite person on the planet, besides your own nieces and nephews. “Alright well hopefully he can help Y/n/n make those nummy cookies in a few weeks. If not, I’ll send a box out, along with an amazing present.”

“What about me?” Maura asked, and you just shook your head. “Hey, I’m not made out of money here girlfriend.” She laughed at that.

“Have you at least eaten anything today?” Leah asked, trying to steer the conversation into a more meaningful direction. She could read you so easily. “Yes, I have. I’m not going to be here much longer, so I’ll grab something for dinner on my way home.”

“Y/n/n,” The eight year old interrupted again, and you couldn’t help the smile that etched across your face as you rolled your eyes at the silly nickname. 

“Yes, Maura.” 

“There’s a fancy man walking towards you.” 

You turned your head and saw Barba walking through the squadroom. “I gotta go, Leah.” 

“Is everything okay?”

He pulled over Carisi’s chair, raising a brow to make sure it was okay. You nodded.

“It’s okay. Just a colleague. I’ll talk to you later.” “Okay. We love you and miss you.” Tears pooled in your eyes again as Maura hopped on. “Love you Y/n/n!” A tear fell from your eye as you let out a laugh. “Love you too guys. Bye.”

You ended the call, quickly wiping your eyes now that you had an audience. It was only last night that you had your rather animated argument, and neither of you had reached out. Being stubborn was one of many traits the two of you shared.

“Can I help you, counselor?” 

He held up a brown bag with a receipt stapled to the fold. “It’s thursday night. It’s usually you making trips to the office, but I figured I could take the field trip tonight.” 

He opened up the bag, pulling out cartons of Chinese food. Your hand immediately reached for the fortune cookies, ripping the plastic wrapper off. 

There was a lingering tension in the air, unresolved conflict, and hurt feelings, but it still felt okay. Mainly because the two of you knew you were both to blame. 

“How did you know I was here?” You asked while grabbing the carton of lo mein. “I called Carisi. He said you were supposed to be in Minneapolis for the holiday, but got wrapped up in the case. Said he offered his family to you, but after hearing the commotion over the phone, I understand why you declined.”

“I didn’t decline because of their raucous personalities. I just wanted to get some work done.” 

He digressed, retreating into his carton of fried rice. “What about you? Why aren’t you eating pie and decorating for Christmas with your lovely mother?”

“She volunteered this year. Since Abuelita died, she hasn’t been a big fan of holidays.” You nodded, knowing how hard it was for Rafael to grieve his abuelita last year. 

“How has she been doing?”

He shrugged. “She has good days and bad days. She blames herself most of the time, but she has her school, and her kids to keep her upright.” “And you.” His eyes met yours for a brief second, the corners of his mouth turning up the slightest. He always wanted to do more for his family. 

“Was that who you were on the phone with? Your family from Minneapolis?” 

“Yeah. I was supposed to go out there for thanksgiving, but when we caught Kristi’s case, I cancelled. I thought,” You stopped, knowing any mention of the case would bring up last night’s conversation.  

“We were going to trial.” He finished the sentence and you nodded.

If everything had gone according to plan, Panko and D’Amico would’ve been indicted this week and the trial would’ve begun the following week. You’d already started prepping Kristi with Rollins, making sure she knew her story backwards and forwards. But it was all for nothing it seems.

“Y/n, what I said last night,” You shook your head. “We both said things we didn’t mean. I started it, and was completely out of line.” 

“You weren’t. You were fighting for Kristi, and your case. I just, I didn’t want to hear it.” He ran a hand through his hair, not perfectly quaffed like usual. “I shouldn’t have brought up the Bar. It was low, extremely low, and you didn’t deserve it. You and Carisi could take me out in court in a day. And if you ever tell him that, I’ll deny it until I die.” You laughed while taking an egg roll, crossing your finger over your heart. “Cross my heart and hope to die.”

You let the apology sink in for a minute before starting your own. “I know you would’ve brought this to trial if we had enough evidence. I know that you care about the victims just as much as we do. I’m sorry that I said you didn’t.”

Poking around the container, he let out a scoff. “You weren’t that far off. I’m the D.A.’s puppet, letting him decide which cases I prosecute or not. We don’t have a lot of room for an emotional influence. I know how cold I can be with vics and witnesses.”

“That doesn’t mean you don’t care.” 

“Tell that to Kristi Cryer. She posted a vlog today, ripped me a new one for not believing her. Called the D.A.’s office, and I quote, ‘a bunch of spineless jellyfish.’ She’s not wrong. I mean,” He let out a humorless laugh. “I went to law school so I could help people. At least, that’s what I’ve been telling myself the last twenty years. But in reality, I’ve been climbing the bureaucratic totem pole, pushing myself further and further away from that kid in the Bronx.”

“You don’t seriously believe what Cryer said do you?” He shrugged, not meeting my eyes. You sighed, placing the carton on your desk, leaning over to rest your hand on his arm. “You are the Assistant District Attorney for the Sex Crimes division. People do not last here if they don’t care about the victims. I’ve seen you in court, in testimony prep, hell even in interrogation. You care about every single person that needs our help. Does it suck that the law is not the most accommodating to rapists and pedophiles? Yeah, it’s really shitty. But you didn’t write the law books, as much as you like to believe you did.” A smile crept onto his face. “You care about your mom, your abuelita, everyone that helped you in the Bronx. I know you care about us, even Carisi, although you’d never admit it. You are not a spineless jellyfish, no matter how fun it is to say.”

“You really believe that?” He still couldn’t meet your eyes. It always amazed you how easily the most put together people could fall victim to their insecurities. 

“Rafael, I would not be spending every Thursday night for the past two years with you if I didn’t believe that you were one of the most kind-hearted people I’ve ever met. I care about you.”

His green eyes finally met yours as he moved to gently hold your hand that was previously resting on his forearm. He gave it a soft squeeze as you smiled, trying to ignore the butterflies that started blooming in your stomach. The same butterflies that rested there every time your hands brushed when you were walking down the hallway, or when his hand rested at the small of your back to escort you into the courtroom. And after tonight, and the way he was looking back at you, you knew he felt them too.

You spent the next ten minutes finishing off the takeout, sitting in a comfortable silence, not needing to fill the moment with anything else. The two of you kept sneaking glances at one another, breaking out into a sheepish grin if you were caught. 

Once you were done eating, Rafael cleaned up the food as you got all your belongings together for the long weekend. It wasn’t until that moment you realized he wasn’t wearing an expensive suit; he had on a navy blue quarter zip, black jeans, and some loafers. A smile crept up on your face knowing that you got to see him in casual clothes.

“Ready?” He asked as you slipped on your gloves and pushed your chair in behind you. “Ready.” 

You lived close enough to the precinct that it was only a ten minute walk. Rafael lived in the other direction, but still insisted on walking you back to your apartment. An Uber could pick him up from there, he said, because that man would not be caught dead walking across the city in his loafers.

He called for a ride as you approached your block, not wanting him to wait in the cold too long. As you approached the brick walk up, you started to fidget with the keys resting in your pocket. 

“Thank you for dinner. And a double thank you for not making me eat your sushi.” He smiled. “You’re welcome. Thank you for being such good company.”

“Anytime.” A sharp gust of wind hit you, causing you to duck your head into your coat for a few seconds. When you looked back up, Rafael’s cheeks were rosy red and wind burnt, and absolutely adorable. “I’ll see you next week for a warrant, I’m sure.”

“I’m sure. Make sure to get me a coffee on the way, listening to you list the legal reasons why you need the warrant always makes me sleepy.” 

You smiled.“Deal. Goodnight, Raf.”

“‘Night, Y/n.” 

Despite the farewell statements, neither one of you moved. You couldn’t bring yourself to look away from his warm eyes, and it wasn’t until you felt his fingers brush against yours that you moved closer. 

His eyes flickered to your lips for a second, before looking back at you. You took another step towards him, waiting for him to close the gap between you. When he did, all you could feel was the warmth of his lips on yours, and the cold tip of his nose resting against your cheek. 

It was short, the two of you pulling away after a few seconds. But one smile from you had him leaning back in, resting a hand on your cheek as he kissed you again. It was slow and careful, but full of adoration. You couldn’t help but smile into him, bringing your hand up to rest against his own. After a few more seconds, his own smile made it impossible to stay connected. 

This time when you pulled away, you rubbed your thumb across his red, wind burnt cheek, not even trying to suppress the stupid smile on your face. And you were happy to see him grinning the same way.

“I’ll call you tomorrow,” He said, shifting his head just enough to press a kiss to the palm of your hand. Neither one of you is willing to ruin this moment with any talks about what this means. “Okay. Get home safe.” “I will.”

One more look at his rosy red cheeks, and you let out a laugh before you let yourself pull away.

“What?” He asked, completely dumbfounded by his affect on you. You shook your head in response. “Nothing.”

He returned your laughter before lightly kissing your lips one last time. You could get used to this. 

“Goodnight, counselor.” You said once you pulled away, lightly shoving him toward the ride that just pulled up. 

“Goodnight, detective.”

****

[gloryofluv]

Traditionally Obscure Chapter 33

Arteeeem!!!

Previous Chapter

Rosa and Artem were walking out the door after work. It was unusual to have an NXX meeting in the late afternoon after work. However, after the two-week span of two being absent, there was a need to review new information.

The fact that new information was going to be another great leg up in the direction they needed to take. Since her last trial in regards to NXX, it seems things grew quiet. A new lead was an excellent charge forward.

Artem seemed to be in decent spirits, even before they left the office. He even laughed at one of Celestine’s jokes, which Rosa had never seen. Celestine was acting a bit odd. Well, Rosa asking her questions earlier might have crossed a line, but she didn’t think so. In short, her first day back at work wasn’t half bad. That was the synopsis, and Artem’s subtle smile declared it was similar for him… until they walked toward the parking lot.

A familiar smile greeted them when they rounded the corner. “Good afternoon, Artem, Rosa,” Vyn declared.

Rosa beamed and skipped over to him. “Good afternoon! How was your day?”

He rocked his head and ran his fingers over his vest. “Yes, far better after we spoke on the phone. I hope your day was excellent.”

Artem approached and ran his fingers over his tie. “What are you doing here, Vyn?”

“I felt that I could stop here on the way and take Rosa over myself,” Vyn smiled.

Artem inhaled, and his expression read mild annoyance. “I don’t see the point.”

Rosa pinched the bridge of her nose. “Artem, please. We talked about this,” she sighed.

Vyn arched an eyebrow in the slightest. “Shall we head out?” he asked Rosa.

“How about we meet you over there?” Artem suggested. “We haven’t gone over anything in regards to NXX.”

“That’s quite alright. We are going to do a review. Besides, I’ve been waiting to see her all day,” Vyn smiled and took Rosa’s hand before bending to kiss it.

She beamed and ran her thumb against his hand before glancing at Artem. His face was vacant of emotion, but his eyes were sharp, and his cheeks dusted with color. “I will see you both there,” he nodded.

Vyn straightened his form and watched as Artem walked toward his car. Rosa noted the tension clearly, but there wasn’t an obvious reason, well, aside from Artem’s clear disapproval. However, he hadn’t voiced it to Vyn, so it was a conundrum.

His eyes found her, and he nodded. “Shall we go? I’d love to hear about your first day back in the office.”

Rosa rocked her head, and Vyn led her with gentle encouragement toward his own car. He opened the passenger door and assisted, though unnecessary, with her sitting down. The monotony of the day melted with his easy smile.

Soon, he was in the driver’s seat and buckled before turning to her and sighing. “I’ve missed you today. I know that seems quite odd considering we’ve seen each other every day for two weeks.”

“It was difficult to return to our old normal,” Rosa agreed and removed the hair from her face.

Vyn tilted his head and reached over, caressing her cheek. “Those are interesting. I haven’t seen you wear those earrings before.”

Her face warmed, and she smiled. “Oh, yes, Artem gave them to me today as a welcome home gift. I know he was worried, and he was sincere about my efforts.”

Vyn dropped his hand and rocked his head. “I’m positive he was,” Vyn sighed and shook his head. “Let’s go.”

Rosa felt the sting of some sort of recoil, but she wasn’t positive why. Vyn pulled the car out of the parking space, and she shifted in her seat. “You seem displeased.”

“Not with you,” Vyn took a chance and smiled over at her. “He shouldn’t have given you such an extravagant gift. It sends the wrong message.”

“Wrong message?” Rosa inquired with a scowl.

Vyn was silent for a moment and ran his thumbs traced the wheel. There was the appearance of a debate that entered his expression, and he nodded. “Did your mother ever talk to you about dating, Rosa? Maybe a conversation about boys and the premise of courting?”

Rosa winced and shook her head. “No, she really never did. She told me that what matters is how you feel about a person and be the best version of myself before I thought about dating anyone. Beauty is fleeting, but intelligence and kindness are the foundation for a fulfilling marriage.”

“So, you’ve never had a conversation about expectations with your mother or possibly another female figure?” He questioned.

“Well, unless you count Kiki, but she has an interesting take on dating,” Rosa giggled and shook her head. “However, she is the closest thing I have to be able to ask questions in regards to dating.”

Vyn smiled and tilted his head. “Well, that is different, to be sure. I don’t mind clarifying questions. I don’t expect you to be perfect. I, myself, have never taken steps in courting before, so I am learning too,” he voiced.

Rosa beamed and ran her fingers through her hair. “You do have far more knowledge than I do, Vyn. I feel silly asking you if I’m doing things incorrectly. I even asked Celestine today if she had any advice. That didn’t go over very well. She was nearly writing my vows for me. I don’t even know why she was so excited about me asking her.”

“I see,” Vyn hummed. “I want to tell you a story.”

“Okay,” Rosa nodded.

Vyn stopped at a light and breathed. “In Svart, it was a large lesson that young men and women receive from their parents and instructors. The concept of courting is a huge commitment and respected as such. We were taught what types of gifts have certain symbolism. A flower with its own symbolism is a given, but jewelry is a large statement. It usually is given after courting for some time and celebrated for a milestone, such as a birthday together, a holiday, or in plenty of cases, pre-engagement.”

Her lips thinned as she glanced over. “That is quite interesting.”

“Yes, so my friend, one of which I do intend for you to meet eventually, he was close with this young baroness. He had decided to give her a beautiful set of earrings for her birthday. They were silver horns on account of them being music majors together. Her parents were rather upset due to her courting a viscount in the neighboring province.”

“They were upset at the earrings because of the symbolism?” Rosa questioned.

“Yes, quite. Enough for my musician friend to write an apology to her parents and announce that his intentions were only of a platonic manner and he was sorry to offend, you see, the traditions in Stellis aren’t as rigid or formed. However, it still is a manner I believe most upper-class society goes by out here as well.”

Rosa tucked her chin as her cheeks bloomed with bright color. “So, Artem’s gift, is it offensive to you?”

“It is, and even more so that he had given it to you after knowing about our courtship. However, I’m not displeased with you accepting it. I want that to be clear. It isn’t you who offended me. Artem may not even know he has crossed a line either. However, any man willing to give a lady jewelry after finding out about her seeing someone exclusively best have a better reason than a simple gift of gratitude or appreciation,” Vyn finished, and his expression tightened as his hands on the wheel gripped.

Rosa removed her hair from around her ears and took the golden wings off. It was that simple. If it was offensive to him, then she shouldn’t be wearing it. “I’m sorry I didn’t know, Vyn. I wouldn’t have accepted the gift had I known.”

His tension lessened, and he smiled as he parked the car. “I know, Rosa. You don’t need to apologize for it. I don’t mind that you accepted the gift. I would most certainly tell you if I thought it was a slight against me.”

Rosa placed the earrings back into the box in her purse and turned to smile at him. “I hope so. I’m sorry I’m not educated on this. I know I have plenty to catch up on, but I will put in my best effort.”

He chuckled and reached over, caressing her cheek. “Just be you. I adore you for who you are, not for your achievements, though stellar and wonderful, nor your experience.”

She pressed her hand over his and inhaled. “I adore you as well.”

Vyn leaned closer to her, and his lips stretched. “You are a magnificent woman. I’m enamored by your very existence. I could never deceive my own heart,” he murmured.

Rosa bent toward him and tilted her head. “Your own heart?”

“Yes, for you have it,” he nodded.

Rosa coiled her arm around his shoulder and sighed. “Vyn.”

He closed the distance and kissed her. It wasn’t like in his garden on Saturday. This kiss was delicate with a hint of something more. The softness of his fingers sliding into her locks as his heartbeat in a swift rhythm under her hand that traced his vest.

Vyn’s tongue had playfully touched her lips before pulling away. Rosa covered her giant grin and giggled with her hand. That likely wasn’t a positive reaction, but Vyn’s smile didn’t fade as he observed her.

“I’m sorry, I was a bit zealous,” he said.

“No, please, don’t. I just,” Rosa sputtered as she pulled her hand away. “Can we try that again?”

Vyn inhaled, and his fingers tangled in her hair. They met in the middle, and Rosa sighed as their lips touched. It was this beautiful flutter that developed in her chest as he cradled her head. Her fingers felt jittery on his chest as she caressed his vest button and tie.

Soft movements of lips. Coaxing her from her anxiety. Vyn Richter was the equivalent of an adrenaline rush. His tongue slid along her lower lip, and her natural reaction to return the favor was greeted with a thrumming sigh that rumbled in his chest. Her heart sped up at the sound, and she could feel the heat she was radiating getting caught between her neck and hair.

The knock at the window interrupted them as Vyn pulled away. “If you two are done playing tongue football, we have a meeting,” Marius declared from the sidewalk.

“Enough, Marius,” Vyn voiced.

Marius grinned and waved at Rosa, who ducked her chin. “Hello, Missy. You look rather cute with a deep blush and red lips. I think I painted similarly recently.”

“Stop it,” Rosa retorted and unbuckled her seat belt.

“I would love to have a live model one of these days,” he teased and pulled away from the car.

Rosa puffed and dug in her bag for a hair tie. “He’s incorrigible,” she grumbled with reddened cheeks.

Vyn adjusted his tie and straightened his vest. “Unfortunately, he’s correct as well in regards to the meeting. We should get going.”

“Yes,” she breathed and pulled her hair up and away from her neck.

Vyn touched her arm before climbing from the car. He walked around, opening her car door, and sighed. “Marius, did you have to wait for us?”

“I did it because someone needs to chaperone you, obviously. That wasn’t innocent once so ever. I’d say I’m impressed, Vyn, but I believe that’s all Rosa. She’s the one with the natural talent.”

“Green is a poor color on you,” Vyn declared as Rosa gripped his hand.

Marius glared. “Same could be said for you.”

“I haven’t a stitch of it on me,” Vyn smiled and gestured with his free hand to the door. “Let’s go have our meeting.”

Marius rolled his eyes and opened the door. “We’ll have to agree on a no PDA in the headquarters rule.”

“Marius, please,” Rosa groaned and shook her head. “Let’s just go have our meeting.”

“I agree,” Vyn said, and the three of them walked inside.

[whenisitenoughtrees]

a slow voice on a wave of phase

Logan has a voice like a galaxy, shot through with silver and streaked with stars, and today, Roman has realized that he is in love.

Roman has seen colors in sounds for as long as he can remember, and Logan's voice paints the night sky across his vision. It's no wonder that he falls in love with him, though it is surprising that he took this long to realize it.

(Wherein Roman pines, Remus' input is surprisingly helpful, and Logan has a lot more feelings than anyone is giving him credit for.)

Content Warnings: Remus-typical inappropriateness, mild Roman-typical insecurity

Word Count: 5,629

Pairings: Logince, platonic Creativitwins, brief mention of Dukeceit

(masterpost w/ ao3 links)

The idea comes to him suddenly, and by ‘suddenly,’ he means ‘with the force of a giant shark crashing through the wall of his bedroom at ninety miles per hour,’ because that is how Remus makes his entrance: half-naked, dripping wet, and straddling the back of a two-and-a-half ton great white.

“Tada!” Remus crows, sliding onto the floor. “You bet I couldn’t do it!” The shark, presumably irritated either by the lack of water dooming it to slow asphyxiation or by the loud, annoying man yelling in its face, flops around on the floor helplessly. Roman watches it through half-lidded eyes, and briefly considers getting up to deal with it before it starts knocking things over.

“But the proof’s in the pudding!” his brother continues, slapping the shark with a wink. Who the wink is directed at, Roman has no idea. Hopefully not the shark, though he wouldn’t put it past him. “Or in the big-ass shark! It only ate me three times before I got to ride it!” At this, he makes a disgusting motion with his hips, calling attention to the fact that his swimming trunks really do not cover enough, and Roman wonders just what, exactly, he did to deserve this treatment.

“What are you doing in my room?” he demands. Or at least, he means to demand; it comes out sounding more like an exhausted sigh, and he supposes that he shouldn’t have expected anything different. Lying in bed in pajamas is not a position from which one can demand much of anything, even if that one happens to be a prince with an incredible amount of creative power at his fingertips.

Not that he’s feeling much creative power at the moment.

Remus finally seems to register his tone and position. He stalks forward, his nose wrinkling, and Roman is greeted with a close-up view of his brother’s bare chest, which is just about par the course. It could be worse, he supposes. At least he’s shirtless and not pantsless. Mostly.

“What crawled up your ass and died there?” Remus asks. “Ooh, was it a spider, like, the itsy-bitsy spider climbed up the waterspout, except the waterspout’s your--”

“Oh my god,” he says, and finally works up the willpower to sit up and shove his brother away. “Can you stop?”

“Can’t stop won’t stop!” Remus trills gleefully, but Roman ignores him in favor of standing to inspect the shark in the middle of his bedroom floor. It is, he has to admit, a bit impressive, and all those teeth are equal parts cool and terrifying. He would likely be more impressed if it wasn’t expiring on his carpet, or if there wasn’t a shark-sized hole in his wall leading to parts unknown. He frowns, focusing and waving a hand, and both the shark and the damage disappear. Unfortunately, the water all over the floor does not.

“Wow,” Remus says. “You are no fun.”

“If you think I’m leaving an open path to your side of the Imagination in my room, you’re…” Remus grins at him, propping his head up in his hands and waggling his eyebrows expectantly. “... nevermind.”

“I never do mind,” Remus agrees, and takes the initiative to flop down onto his bed, thus getting water all over his bedsheets, because he’s an inconsiderate jerk. “So, what’s got you all down in the dumps? Usually, I crash a shark through your wall and you get all pissy about it, but you’re being boring. What gives?”

Roman glares, and seriously considers trying to remove him too. There was a time when he would have been able to do so easily, a time when he knew for a fact that he belonged in the light and Remus belonged in the dark, with all of the other things that ooze and crawl. But things aren’t so black and white these days, and now that Thomas has begun to tentatively ask for Remus’ input every now and again, it’s harder than ever to make him leave when he gets it in his head that he wants to be somewhere. He is, in that way, a bit like a pimple, or a particularly persistent mold. Neither of which he can actually call him to his face, because he’ll just take it as a compliment, but the fact remains that once he grows on, it is incredibly difficult to scrape him off.

“What gives is that I want you out of my room,” he tries, crossing his arms, but Remus makes a tsking sound.

“Oh, sure,” he says. “That’s why you were lying there all sad and shit? You looked like someone that decided that their idea of fun is to lie down in the middle of the street and see what happens.” He pauses. “Actually, do you think Thomas would--”

“Don’t finish that sentence.”

He pouts. “Boo,” he says. “You never let me do anything. But I mean, really Ro Ro, it can’t be a creative block. I’ve seen you in one of those, and you get all whiny and sick and then you start acting like you’re a poet in the 18oos and you’ve got consumption.” He lays a hand across his brow. “Oh me oh my, if only I could write one last poem before I cough my whole lungs out of my body. Ooh, could you imagine what that would look like? Your lungs, just sliding out of your mouth like big grey sacks?”

“First of all, no, gross,” Roman says. “Also, I didn’t know poets dying of consumption sounded like congested Southern belles.”

Remus waves a hand. “Eh, not the point,” he says. “And maybe the poets didn’t, but you sure do.”

“Hey--”

“But my point,” he continues, “is that it can’t be that, ‘cause Thomas has got a backlog of weeks’ worth of ideas to peruse if he actually wants to do something, which means that’s not your issue.” He rolls over on his side, so as better to make eye contact. “So what is your deal?”

Roman opens his mouth and promptly closes it again. Honestly, if this were about anything else, he might consider telling him. As annoying as he is, he feels closer to Remus now than he has in years, perhaps to the point where he could feel comfortable sharing something personal. Sure, Remus will probably laugh or make fun, or twist it into something weird or a horrible innuendo, but at least it would be out there, in the open, and someone else would know of it. At least there would be proof of its existence outside of his own mind. 

But this? Can he share this?

Because the deal isn’t a messed up audition or a troublesome idea. It isn’t even one of his usual personal issues, like the self-doubt that creeps into his mind in the small hours of the morning, the whispered thought that none of his ideas are worthy of use, that he himself is failing in his purpose, a mere facsimile of the prince that he is supposed to be.

No. For once, it’s not that, and he refuses to fall down that rabbit hole.

The deal is that Logan has a voice like a galaxy, shot through with silver and streaked with stars, and today, Roman has realized that he is in love.

-----

It took a while for either of them to notice that none of the others experience the world the way they do. They never thought to question it; Roman saw colors in sound, and Remus heard music in images, and that was just the way it was. It wasn’t until they were a bit older that they figured out that the weird looks they garnered when they brought it up, when Roman mentioned a teacher with a corn-yellow drawl or when Remus talked about a picture in 3/4 time, weren’t just disapproval directed at the way the Creativities saw the world, but instead a genuine lack of understanding.

They stopped talking about it, eventually. Or rather, Roman stopped talking about it, and Remus accepted that nobody would pay attention to his eccentricities as long as he presented them in a certain way.

So really, it’s not that Roman is hiding it. It’s just never come up.

Remus’ voice is like an oil spill, black and thick and oozing, but with flashes of lime green running through it, the color of slime and radioactive waste. Patton’s is pink, yellow, and blue all swirled together, like a field of flowers, or every flavor of cotton candy all at once. Virgil’s voice is more difficult to pin down; once, he thought it was a black, swirling smoke, but as the years have passed, Roman has realized that the smoke is not black, but dark purple, only showing its true color when light is shined through it. Janus’ is similarly difficult to interpret, but lately, he has likened it to a still, quiet forest, all dark green and brown, secrets lurking just under the surface.

But Logan’s has always been his favorite. Because Logan’s voice sounds like space itself, a backdrop of black peppered with millions of shining, twinkling lights, mixed with bright galaxies and spinning nebulae, vast and beautiful and incomprehensible. At his calmest, it is a void, the light of the stars distant and cold, but when he gets excited, when he begins to ramble about a topic, the stars increase in number and illuminate his whole face, swirling in his eyes and hair, and Roman could listen to him for days.

He’s always known that he has a bit of a crush. But he’s always thought that a crush was all it was, and if it was a bit longer-lasting than crushes are meant to be, well, it’s not as if there are a lot of other options. The mindscape proper only has seven inhabitants, and it would feel wrong to try to date someone from the Imagination, considering that he controls the place. So, he’s been content to linger on his feelings for Logan, never pushing for anything more than he would be willing to give, because another thing that he’s always known is that never in a million years would his feelings be returned.

Logan, as he has said himself so many times, does not do feelings. And even though Roman knows very well that Logan is not nearly as unfeeling as he would like to pretend to be, that does not mean that he would be comfortable with, or even open to the idea of a relationship. And even if he were, he would not choose to be with him, would not choose the embodiment of dreams and fantasies, everything that logic attempts to deny. So it’s a hopeless crush, a one-sided romance for the ages, the type of story that Roman would be captivated with if he weren’t at the center of it, if thinking about it didn’t make his chest tight and his eyes sting.

But this morning--

Oh, gods of Olympus, this morning--

He has no idea what prompted the epiphany. By all rights, this morning was like any other morning: Patton at the pancake griddle, Virgil slumped and half-awake at the table, Logan sipping at his coffee. Roman made his usual stunning and gorgeous entrance, ready to tackle the day’s challenges like a true knight would, and traded his usual morning barbs with Virgil. But before he could even sit down, Logan looked up at him, smiled slightly, and said, “Good morning, Roman,” a galaxy glittering around him, and Roman took a brief moment to think about how much he loves him.

And then stopped up short. Because, what? Love? No?

Except, yes.

These feelings have been bursting in his chest for so long, fireworks setting off whenever Logan speaks, whenever Logan so much as looks his way. And he thought they were a crush, no more than that, if not ignorable then at least possible to work around. But that’s not right, has never been right, and in this instant, years’ worth of suppositions came crashing down around his ears.

So, his mind racing, the silence stretching too long, he did the only thing he could think to do.

“I, uh, forgot a thing,” he stammered, and beat a hasty retreat back to his room, ignoring the way Patton called after him. Upon closing the door behind him, he changed back into his pajamas and collapsed back on his bed, his mind whirling, intent on not facing anybody else until he has to.

Because he loves Logan. Is in love with Logan. Has been in love with Logan for years and years now, has been pining away without even understanding that that was what he was doing.

Frankly, he’s not sure he can think of a worse position to be in.

-----

Which brings him here: his floor wet, his arms crossed, and Remus staring expectantly at him, waiting for an explanation. And Remus isn’t one to back down easily, which leaves Roman in a predicament.

He could try lying. But he’s not sure he could lie well enough about this, and frankly, he doesn’t want to risk Janus getting himself involved. But the only other option is the truth, and he’s not sure he wants Remus to know the truth, not sure he trusts Remus not to hold it over his head, to mock him or to stick his fingers in an open wound that he himself has only just discovered.

Because Remus would definitely do that. Both literally and figuratively.

“Bro,” Remus says, looking amused, “whatever it is, I’m almost positive it’s not that deep. You know what is deep?”

“What?” Roman replies, hoping beyond hope for a change of topic.

“My butt!” Remus says, and then cackles.

Roman buries his face in his hands, and Remus’ laughter stretches on and on and on, filling the room with slick oil, painting the walls with slime and noxious fumes, and green squiggles worm their way onto the backs of his eyelids, and he absolutely cannot do this right now.

“I’m in love with Logan,” he mumbles into his hands, and the laughter cuts off abruptly.

“You’re what?” Remus asks, and Roman looks up from his hands. Remus has sat up in his bed, and is staring at him with a peculiarly intent expression.

“I’m in love with Logan,” he repeats, firmer this time. He holds Remus’ gaze, daring him to say something, so of course, Remus does, erupting into laughter once again.

“You can’t be serious,” he says in between giggles. “Really? Logan? He’s such a stick in the mud. A stick in the mud with a stick up his butt. It’s like a flag, except, instead of a flag it’s Logan, because the stick is both in the mud and up his butt.” He pauses, and Roman’s face must be doing something, because Remus sobers just a bit, raising an eyebrow. “Huh. You’re actually serious.”

He groans, plopping down in the middle of the floor, ignoring the way the dampness of the carpet seeps into his pants. “I don’t know what to do,” he moans, more to air his grievance than to accomplish anything else. It’s not as if he’s expecting Remus to have any useful suggestions for him.

But Remus shifts on the bed so he can face him completely. “Okay, you’re gonna have to explain this one to me, because I don’t get it,” he says. “Whenever I look at Logan, I get robot noises and video game music on full blast.” He breaks off, humming a few bars, and Roman has to admit that it’s not an unpleasant tune, though not one he would think to associate with Logan. “Plus,” Remus continues, “he’s so boring. Sure, he’s fun to wind up, but he’s all about the rules and being logical and no, Thomas can’t do that, he’ll get acid burns, so why don’t we watch a documentary instead?” He says the last in an almost perfect imitation of Logan’s voice, his face darkening. Oddly, when Remus does it, Roman doesn’t connect the sound with space at all, hearing only the same oily splatters that his brother’s voice usually consists of. “I don’t want to watch documentaries. I want to do shit.”

Roman shakes his head. “You don’t hear what his voice actually sounds like,” he insists. “It’s… gods above, he talks, and it’s like he brings all the stars down to earth. It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve heard in my life.” He scrubs a hand across his face. “And sometimes he smiles and says something smart, and I’m just, wow, I would die for you. Do you know how pretty his smile is? And he’s so frickin’ smart.”

Remus’ expression has frozen halfway between awe and disgust. “You’ve got it bad,” he says, and Roman groans.

“You think I don’t know that?” he says. “I just don’t know what to do about it!” He sighs. “Theoretically, I know all about romance and wooing. I’m the romance guy! But when I think about wooing Logan, my stomach gets all twisted up in knots. Like a sad pretzel. I mean, grand gestures and gifts are the way to go, right? But what even could I give him that he would like? He hates things that are ‘frivolous and unrealistic,’ but that’s my whole thing!”

Remus cocks his head. “Bones,” he says sagely.

He blinks. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Give him some bones,” Remus says, nodding, like this makes perfect sense. “Like, two, maybe three bones. Boys like bones.”

“... Where am I getting these bones?”

Remus’ face brightens. “I’ve got a few extra!” he proclaims. “Wanna see?”

“I-- no,” he says. “Stop. I’m not giving him bones. Why do you--” No, best not to question. “Nevermind. Is that how you got Janus to date you?”

Remus grins. “Nah,” he says. “I mean, maybe that helped. I think what really did it was that I wrote him our song.”

“You wrote him a song?”

“No, stupid, our song,” he says. “Like, how I look at him and I hear a song. And then I’ve got a song, too. So I figured out a way to mash them together. And then I gave it to him.” He sighs, almost dreamily, if Remus has a dreamy setting. Roman would like to never hear that again, thank you, because frankly, he doesn’t much want to hear about whatever weird relationship his brother has with Deceit, and he sort of regrets bringing it up in the first place. “He really, really liked it. Said it was the best thing he’d ever heard.” Remus pauses, an odd light entering his eyes. “He said something about it being from the heart. I tried giving him my actual heart, but then he said that wasn’t what he meant.”

“From the heart,” he mutters, considering. So, something heartfelt, personal. Remus literally gave Deceit something that showed how he perceived him, everything that he felt. But how can he do the same and make sure that it’s something Logan likes? Logan likes science, likes math and numbers, likes facts, and Roman doesn’t know anything about any of those things. All he knows is how Logan makes him feel and the way his voice shines like starlight in his mind’s eye, and he’s not sure how to translate that into something Logan would appreciate, or even understand.

And then it comes: the idea.

“Holy shit,” he says, spine straightening, the burst of inspiration setting his mind to whirring. For an instant, he sees it dancing before him, an image of perfection, within his reach if only he can replicate exactly what he envisions. “Remus, you’re a genius!”

Remus gawks. “I am?” he asks, and his face brightens. “I already knew that, but fuck yeah!”

Roman laughs, bright and free, clambering to his feet. “Okay, okay, I know what I’m doing,” he says. “So I need you to get out, but god, thank you so much.”

Remus hops off the bed without protest. “Anytime, bro bro,” he says, sauntering toward the door. “Remember to put in a good word with Tommy-boy for me. And if you end up fucking, put a sock on the door.”

“You’re gross,” Roman says, pushing him out. The words carry no bite, and the last thing he sees before closing the door in his face is Remus grinning at him, an expression of pure delight.

-----

In the end, it takes him a week. A week holed up in his room, only occasionally emerging to grab food, and he knows he’s making everyone else worry, but he can’t stop himself, doesn’t dare stop until what he sees in his mind has been set to paper, exactly how he wants it. It has been so long since an idea has gripped him like this, since he has been so inspired to create, since he has been so sure in his ability to make something beautiful, and he feels as though he could subsist on his exhilaration alone.

When it is done, he steps back, admires his handiwork, and proceeds to sleep for twenty-two hours straight.

On the eighth day, he steps out into the hallway, canvas tucked securely under his arm, and makes his way down the hall to Logan’s room.

He takes a deep breath before knocking, hoping to steady his nerves. He hasn’t had much time, these past few days, to worry about whether or not Logan would like it, but now, he’s wondering if this was a mistake, if this is something that would be better kept to himself. He can wave off the others’ concern by pretending he was working on hypothetical ideas, or that a quest in the Imagination ran over-long. He doesn’t actually have to give this to Logan at all, doesn’t have to bare himself like this, doesn’t have to risk his scorn and judgement.

But what else is love, in the end, if not a risk worth taking?

He knocks, and moments later, hears footsteps from inside. He barely has time to check that there is a smile on his face before Logan opens the door, eyebrows lifting in surprise.

“Roman,” he greets, and though nothing outwardly changes, Roman’s brain insists that a shooting star streaks across his vision. “We haven’t seen much of you these past few days.”

“Ah,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck, “right, sorry. I just got caught up in the creative process, you know how it is.”

“I do not,” Logan says. “Nevertheless, I am glad to see you well.” He pauses. “I was… somewhat concerned after your hasty exit the last time I saw you. I wanted to ensure that I did not do something to offend you.”

Oh, shit. He’s been so busy that he hadn’t bothered to think about how that moment might have been interpreted. And there is an odd note in Logan’s tone that implies that this is actually something that’s been troubling him, and Roman feels like kicking himself for letting him worry about it.

“No, no, not at all!” he says, gesturing with his free hand. “I just got struck with inspiration in that very moment, so of course, I needed to retreat before the idea was lost.” He winces internally as the words leave his mouth. It is a lie, but only just; it certainly wasn’t inspiration that he was struck with. That came later.

“I see,” Logan says, and Roman hopes that he isn’t imagining the way his shoulders relax, if only slightly. “That is good to hear. In that case, was there something you needed from me?”

“I--” He breaks off, swallowing hard. This is the moment of truth, the last second in which he could turn back. He is, essentially, offering up all of his emotions on a silver platter, even if Logan likely won’t recognize that fact. Still, rejection at this point would hurt worse than any failed audition, worse than any mistake he has ever made, and he has made so many.

But he has spent so long on this. He wants it to be seen by its object.

“This is for you,” he blurts out, and shoves the canvas out in front of him like a shield. Logan takes it, startled, and Roman watches as his eyes flicker across the painting, widening ever so slightly. 

After a week’s worth of work, he knows exactly what Logan is seeing. A painting of blacks and dark blues and purples, pinpricks of whites and yellows and reds, a display of the cosmos swirling on a backdrop of the void. Everything that Roman sees when Logan speaks is here: the inky darkness of his calm, the supernova of his anger, the stars that glitter and twirl in his excitement. It is like no view of space that mankind has ever seen, because this universe is Logan, completely and utterly, is comprised of the galaxies that drip from his tongue when he speaks.

This is how Roman sees him. This is how Roman loves him.

The silence stretches on for a long time, so long that Roman is tempted to declare the whole thing a bust, to laugh and play it off like it’s no big deal, like his heart won’t be completely and utterly crushed if Logan hates it.

“You painted this?” Logan finally asks. His voice sounds choked, a star collapsing in on itself. Roman shuffles his feet.

“Uh, yeah,” he says. “I just thought, um, you like space? So I, uh. Do you like it?”

He tries not to sound needy, tries not to sound like his happiness is contingent on the answer he receives. He’s not sure how much he succeeds.

“It’s… adequate,” Logan replies, and Roman could dance, could sing his relief to any and all who would listen, because he knows Logan well enough to know what that means. And if that’s the best he’ll get, he’ll take it and go and be glad, because Logan likes it, and that is more than enough for him. He feels like he’s on top of the world, like he’s floating in space himself, orbiting the moon and staring into the sun and being blinded and loving every minute of it.

“Actually,” Logan says, and for a second, Roman’s heart drops into his shoes, before he continues with, “it’s… it’s far more than adequate. I don’t know much about art, but I know a piece of expert craftsmanship when I see one.” He looks up at Roman, his eyes shining. “You made this for me?”

There is an emotion in his voice that Roman cannot name, but it is speckled with so many stars, more than he thinks he’s ever seen at once. More stars than void, at least, shining and shimmering with light.

And Roman wasn’t planning to do this. Was planning to take this slowly, was planning to give Logan his offering and leave, using his reaction as a gauge for the next step, if he dared to take a next step at all, if he came away with the conclusion that Logan would not hate him for attempting a romance. But the way Logan is staring at him, wide-eyed and open, as if he has been gifted something incredibly precious, makes him want Logan to understand just how much this means, just how much it says. Just how much of his heart and soul he is putting on the line.

Dear sweet Beyonce, he’s actually going to do it, isn’t he?

“I did,” he says. “Um, okay, I’ve never actually explained this to anyone, so bear with me.” Logan tilts his head, confused, but is otherwise silent. “Uh, have you ever heard of the thing where people’s senses get crossed? Like, say, you associate a color with a particular number or letter?”

Logan’s eyebrows furrow. “Are you referring to synesthesia?” he asks.

He can’t stop his smile. Logan’s heard of it. Maybe that will make this easier. “Yeah, that,” he says. “So, uh, Remus and I have that. He hears music when he looks at things, and I, uh. Well. I’ve sort of got the opposite.”

Logan stares at him. “You’re telling me,” he says, “that all these years, you’ve both perceived the world in an entirely different way from the rest of us, and you’ve never said a word about it?”

He winces. “I suppose?” he says. “Are you angry?” 

He doesn’t know what he’ll do if Logan is angry. He didn’t intend for Logan to be angry. He’s going to be angry if Logan is angry, angry with himself for spoiling this moment, for daring to reach for more than he could have. He should have left it alone, should have taken Logan’s enjoyment of the painting for what it was and not pushed for anything more. God, his heart feels as though it’s trying to claw its way out of his throat.

But Logan shakes his head. “No, just… surprised,” he says. “When you say you have the opposite of what Remus does, do you mean that you see images when you listen to music?”

“Sort of?” he says. “Not really images, more just arrangements of colors, if that makes sense. And I don’t actually see it with my eyes, just in my head, even though it feels like I’m seeing it with my eyes, sometimes. Even though I know I’m not really.” He pauses for a breath. He doesn’t think he’s explaining himself very well, but Logan is sill listening, so he has no choice but to push on. “And, um, not just music. Any sound, really.”

Logan nods, seeming to take it in stride. “I think I understand,” he says. “It truly is fascinating how so many of us exhibit traits and quirks that Thomas himself does not.” A measure of excitement bleeds into his voice, flaring up like the sun, and Roman resists the urge to blurt out something incredibly sappy and highly inappropriate for the moment. “So, this painting--” He glances back down at the painting, still gripped in both hands, and then abruptly stops talking.

“It’s, uh, it’s you,” Roman says, attempting to fill up the sudden quiet. “It’s your voice. I mean, it’s what I see when I hear your voice.”

“It’s… me?”

“Yes,” he says. 

“You… you see this when I talk?”

“Uh huh,” he says, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. Logan’s head is lowered, his voice too soft to read well, and Roman’s nerves begin to return in full force. “Was this weird? I’m sorry if this was weird. I just, your voice is so gorgeous, and I really wanted to paint it, and I’m probably making this worse, aren’t I? If you don’t like it anymore you don’t have to keep it.”

At last, Logan raises his head. His face is burning bright red, and Roman really, really hopes it’s not in fury, hopes that he hasn’t just ruined everything. Slowly, Logan sets the painting down to rest against the wall and steps forward. Roman, for his part, is rooted in place, tracking every movement, every breath.

“Roman,” Logan says. “Don’t be idiotic.”

And then, he backs Roman against the wall and kisses him.

He doesn’t kiss like Roman would have expected. There is nothing cold about it, nothing clinical; instead, he is hard and demanding, insistent and passionate, and as soon as Roman’s brain reboots, he returns it just as eagerly, deepening it, placing his hands on the sides of Logan’s face to hold him there, hold him where he can taste him, because he has fantasized about this moment but never, ever thought that this dream could come true. And when Logan pulls back, he doesn’t go far, his face lingering bare inches from his own. His breaths puff across his skin, and behind his glasses, his pupils are dilated.

“So I take it you like it,” Roman says. His voice is hoarse.

“I do,” Logan says. His face is flushed, twisted in what is probably embarrassment, but he doesn’t look away. “And lately, I have found myself rather liking you, too. I, ah, didn’t think you returned the sentiment.”

Roman blinks, and then, throws back his head and laughs. “Are you serious?” he asks. “We could have been doing this already?” He tugs Logan’s face closer to his, resting their foreheads together. Logan turns an even more brilliant shade of scarlet. “Just in case I didn’t make it clear,” he says, “I really, really like you, Logan.” He strokes a thumb across his cheek. “My galaxy,” he breathes. “My starlight.”

Logan makes a noise deep in the back of his throat. “Yes,” he says, and it’s almost a squeak. “That is satisfactory.”

And with that, with starlight gleaming behind his eyes and his heart tapping out double-time, Roman laughs, and pulls Logan back in.

-----

A few nights later, he finds a collection of questionably-shaped bones sitting on his dresser. He is less than enthusiastic, but Logan seems interested, so he kisses his boyfriend-- his boyfriend!-- on the top of his head and leaves him to his scientific study. Of bones. Because Logan is a weird nerd, but that’s alright, because he loves him both in spite of it and because of it. 

He just. Loves Logan. All of him. So much. And Logan likes him back, and now they’re together, and really, nothing could be better than this.

He briefly considers the merits of getting Remus a gift basket, but ultimately decides against it. They’ve never needed that sort of thing between them, and if the next time Remus intrudes on his space, he doesn’t protest as much as he usually would? Well, they both understand, and that’s more than enough.

Writing Taglist: @just-perhaps @the-real-comically-insane @jerrysicle-tree @glitchybina 

[heckpuppyy]

Autumn Comes In

A collection of 30 drabbles focused around Zagreus and the Good Shade.

Set in the Universe of The Good Shade AU (The Reader assumes the role of the GS)

Childhood Home

Zagreus talks to Shade about their life before death.

TW// Mentions of War, Injuries, Blood, and Extreme Violence. Character Death. PTSD.

Zagreus, though ever the victim of a constantly shifting expanse that is the underworld, was finding it easier and easier to end up at certain parts of the trek up to the surface. He was able to count doorways, recognize land marks and statues, and even listen to certain sounds beyond the threshold to give him a better idea at what the Fates had in store. Through trial and error, learning a few hard lessons, and paying off a few border crossing nymphs and familiars, he started making it a regular habit to visit his Shade in their corner of Elysium you seemed to mostly have to yourself.

Your home was close to a fountain, so he would always listen for water. Your home also was heavy with Muscats that made the best wine for the soldiers who found themselves in eternal combat and glory. Loamy soil and a heavier air from the humidity... that was easy enough! A turn left here, a right there, and some pesky flame wheels that keep insisting on guarding this particular path... ah!

There you were in the filtered, artificial light of Elysium. You were picking a few of the grape bunches when you feel the familiar pattern of Zagreus’s hurried walk coming your way. You look up, greeting the Prince with a smile as you wave to him. He laughs and pulls you into a quick, familiar hug before pulling back from you. You gesture to the grapes in your basket as an offering, but he just shakes his head.

“No, thank you, Shade!” he says, that bright smile not once fading as he looks over you. You’re sure it’s just him being concerned for your well being, even knowing you’ll end up right back here if something were to happen to you. Still, something about the gaze he was giving you made you feel a little weak. You shook yourself out of it and nodded towards the fountain you two have made your comfortable little meet up spot. Zagreus nods and follows behind you, settling himself on the ground with you on the edge of the stone.

The two of you talk for a while about the typical things. Have you made it out again? How’s your mother? Is She away or home? How’s Cerberus? Anything weird or interesting? The comfortable routine you two had settled into felt warm and familiar. Something to look forward to even if the trek out here can be rather... cumbersome.

“Shade...” Zagreus starts, catching you a bit off guard and pulling you out of your lull. “What was your life like? Before you came here? To be granted eternity in Elysium without plea it must have been a pretty impressive timeline!”

Your life before Elysium... Now that was something to think about. You had been enjoying the peace and quiet of your little corner for so long you had almost forgotten... Your smile fades as you furrow your brow, turning your attention to the water in the fountain. How do you begin to even tell of the story of a physician?

Zagreus frown at your change in demeanor and reaches out to you. “Shade, I-- You don’t have to if it’s not something you want to talk about. I’m sorry if I crossed a line.”

You take a deep breath in and hold it for a moment, slowly exhaling to ground yourself. ‘It’s alright. I can... talk about it.’ you sign.

‘I was a Physician. I followed soldiers into battle and treated their wounds as best as I could in the back. I was never safe, and I saw... a lot. Men who had lost limbs, who had no blood left to let, who had weapons stuck so far in them they only had time to bid goodbye to their companions before they died from the removal.’

Zagreus watched carefully as you spoke, brow knitting tighter and tighter as you continued. You began to tremble as you tried to talk about the next part, but a hand reaches up and covers your own. You look down to Zagreus, who admittedly looks a little guilty for bringing it up in the first place, and you give him a weak smile. The gesture helps and you relax a little.

‘I wasn’t able to cover myself and the soldier who I was trying to treat. He had fallen to a spear, and as I was trying to prepare to clean the wound... I... was struck down. It happened so fast I was still trying to help the soldier when I saw Lord Ares ushering us along into the Styx. I was pulled into your Lord Father’s home and when I told him I was a physician struck down in the field, he sent me to Elysium without question. Now I’m here!’

Zagreus was quiet for a while longer after you finished. He didn’t move, he didn’t speak. Just let you be so you could come down from the retelling... which you honestly didn’t know you needed until it happened. He finally spoke and moved to sit beside you on the fountain.

“That’s... an incredible story. You did so much good for so many soldiers who needed it... to have your life taken so quickly must have been horrible. I’m sorry I asked you to relive it... but I am very grateful you told me. Thank you, Shade. For your story and your service.” he said, meeting your gaze with a serious look. You gave him what little of a smile you had and nodded, giving his hand a squeeze as affirmation.

Though it seemed all too soon, you both knew it was getting a bit late. Zagreus stayed by your side a bit longer to make sure you were grounded before he stood to leave.

“You’re sure you’re alright now? I don’t want to go until I know for sure you’re feeling alright...” He asked, furrowing his brow once more as he fussed over you. You nodded and stood with him, holding your hands out as if to prove your lack of trembling was a good enough note to send him off on. He shook his head, but he wasn’t going to fight you on it.

“Well, if you’re absolutely sure. I’ll see you at the Coliseum, alright? Unless you’re not feeling up to it! Take care of yourself, alright?”

You placed your hands on your hips and shook your head. ‘I would never miss your fight. I’ll see you there!’ you sign.

Zagreus nods and gives you a quick hug as a send off before he heads down the path to his next door. You sigh and plop down onto the edge of the fountain and place your head in your hands. It was just as rough to remember as it was to experience... but something felt a little better knowing that someone who cared for you shared just a bit of that burden as well. Thankfully, nightmares don’t plague you here and the comfort of the purified healing waters help ease the phantom aches.

You pick up your basket of Muscats from the ground and head back towards your humble home. Tonight (today?), a goblet of wine and a show to support your most trusted friend. Tomorrow is a new day... Tomorrow will be better. Everything seems to be a little easier in Paradise after all.

Whew! I am very excited to get this challenge underway! I was so stoked to kind of maybe expand on why our Good Shade was in Elysium in the first place? It got a little dark for Childhood Home, but my brain was mostly equating "home" ro just being alive in general. So!

I'm sorry if it got a little off track for anything!

These will also be cross posted to my ao3 under Autumn Comes In!

See you guys in the next one! The prompt is Garden!! <3

[lov3nerdstuff]

Voluptas Noctis Aeternae {Part 7.20}

*Severus Snape x OC*

Summary: It is the year 1983 when the ordinary life of Robin Mitchell takes a drastic turn: she is accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Despite the struggles of being a muggle-born in Slytherin, she soon discovers her passion for Potions, and even manages the impossible: gaining the favor of Severus Snape. Throughout the years, Robin finds that the not quite so ordinary Potions Professor goes from being a brooding stranger to being more than she had ever deemed possible. An ally, a mentor, a friend... and eventually, the person she loves the most. Through adventure, prophecies and the little struggles of daily life in a castle full of mysteries, Robin chooses a path for herself, an unlikely friendship blossoms into something more, and two people abandoned by the world can finally find a home.

General warnings: professor x student, blood, violence, trauma, neglectful families, bullying, cursing

Words: 4.7k

Read Part 1.1 here! All Parts can be found on the Masterlist!

______________________________

It was a week before Christmas break, on a snowy Friday evening, when Robin and Snape found themselves sitting at one of the tables in the lab yet again, waiting patiently while their newest project simmered quietly in a small cauldron in front of them. Eventually the draught would turn in colour, going from a dull yellowish brown to a brilliant ruby red, but until then there was nothing to do but chat while they had their usual evening coffee.

After the firewhisky endeavour in late October, most of November and December had gone by remarkably unspectacularly, and while they had spent some more evenings in Snape's room throughout that time, mainly because of the music that had stayed in his room in form of Robin's old record player, Robin hadn't ever dared to even consider staying over again. Not that she wouldn't have wanted to –gods, she would give about anything even just to sleep in that cloud of a bed again– but she was rather certain that she couldn't spend another night in his space without doing something stupid. Especially when he was starting to become less opposed to this innocent physical closeness, to her touch and to touching her in return, she was better off sparing herself the temptation of crossing lines she shouldn't even come close to. They had already gotten so far, and she couldn't jeopardize that for a ridiculous spurt of nightly braveness. So it was their normal routine of staying up until ungodly hours to work and talk and simply enjoy each other's company that brightened her days no matter what.

"Your hair smells like pineapple again." Snape remarked in a dramatic sigh, which effectively drew Robin out of her head again.

"Yeah, well, I forgot my shampoo and had to steal from Cas once more." She shrugged with a humoured huff, then took a long sip of her cooled down coffee and quirked an eyebrow at him. "Do you honestly detest pineapple that much?"

"Yes. They smell too sweet for how acidic they are."

"But I know for a fact that you like lemons, and those are even more acidic."

"I do like lemons, yes."

"Funny."

"For someone who cannot tell lemons and limes apart it certainly must be, yes."

Robin rolled her eyes exaggeratedly, but the smile on her lips gave away her true sentiments. He honestly would never let her live that down… and it had been years! That man had a memory better than a photo album or an audio recorder, and she found herself stuck between pride, envy and admiration. The middle would do.

"Next time I'll use Jorien's coconut body wash too, so that you get stuck with me smelling like a freaking piña colada, if you'd prefer that." She teased him right back with a small smirk, but then couldn't help laughing at his horrified expression. "Don't worry, I for my part have no intention of smelling like a fruity cocktail. Would be the cherry on top of everything, eh?"

"Funny." Now it was Snape who rolled his eyes, using his flattest and most indifferent tone, and Robin had to laugh even more. Especially when he finally couldn't help the smirk on his lips any longer either.

"Speaking of drinks, isn't-..." Robin was cut off by a loud knock, which made both her and Snape frown at each other simultaneously, then at the door. It was past one o'clock in the morning; who the hell would dare bothering them at this time?! With every intention to find an answer to that question, it was Robin who jumped off her chair and skipped to the door this time around, with Snape just a few steps behind her.

When she opened up, she was greeted by the kind and absolutely unsurprised face of none other than Professor McGonagall. Robin's eyebrows rose for a second, but she didn't forget her manners over her surprise. "Good evening, Professor. Is everything alright?"

"Good evening indeed, Miss Mitchell. Severus…" McGonagall gave both of them a nod and a smile, looking from one to the other as Snape came to stand so close behind Robin that she could feel his warmth on her back, as well as the gentle brush of his robes whenever he took a breath. It took quite a bit of effort on her part to keep focusing on McGonagall as she spoke on, clearly addressing Snape now. "I'm afraid I have news you won't like to hear."

"What happened?" Snape's voice was the perfect disdainful indifference once more, and Robin had no doubt that his expression was made to match.

"Pomona received an urgent owl an hour ago and henceforth has personal matters to attend to all weekend, which means she will not be able to see to the mandatory dancing instructions of the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw students tomorrow morning, and seeing as Filius isn't an option, by his own choice may I add, you're going to have to attend to half of the students, Severus." McGonagall stated in one long breath, with a pointed expression that left no room for arguments. Behind Robin's back, Snape held his breath for a second, which she only could tell by the lacking brush of fabric against her jumper.

"Certainly." He finally drawled, dutiful as much as disdainful. It wasn't hard to guess his thoughts on the matter, especially after he had successfully avoided giving this dance class for the past years. "I shall instruct the Slytherins myself, and whichever half of Pomona's students you wish to… impose on me."

"The Ravenclaws should be a better fit for you, I believe." The transfiguration professor was quick to reply. "Would you mind having the time between breakfast and lunch, in the great hall? I myself would prefer the timeframe from lunch until dinner."

"I am not partial to any time."

"It's settled then. You'll teach the Slytherins and Ravenclaws after breakfast." McGonagall smiled almost mischievously, or at least in a decent amount of amusement. "I believe a standard waltz shouldn't be a problem to you, after demonstrating it quite so nicely with Miss Mitchell at last year's ball."

Snape didn't reply, but Robin could feel him glaring at McGonagall over her shoulder. Honestly, she couldn't even blame him for being annoyed by the turn of events. This was probably the last thing he had expected to be doing on this Saturday, especially since they had previously made different plans. Looks like those would have to wait yet again.

"Anyway, I don't want to hold you two up any longer than necessary." McGonagall finally spoke on when nobody replied to her previous statement. "What is it you are doing at this time of night anyway?"

"Working." Both Robin and Snape replied in unison, in the same evading neutrality, and the woman in front of them couldn't help smiling in sincere amusement at their mannerisms.

"I see." She said, and tried to glance past Snape into the lab, only to give up after a half-hearted attempt. "I was merely being curious; I unfortunately have to conduct most of my experiments alone these days."

"If you find yourself looking for an assistant, I can only recommend you to ask Jorien Blakeley. She would be delighted, and I know for a fact that she has a remarkably strong interest in transfiguration." Robin couldn't help the blurb of words from escaping, but she also didn't quite regret it. "And as far as I'm aware, she has been getting fairly high grades as well."

McGonagall looked surprised at the suggestion, then she frowned to herself for a moment and finally smiled at Robin again as she went to reply. "Miss Blakeley really does have a talent for the subject, however I wasn't aware that she would take interest in furthering her knowledge beyond the classroom topics. Nor that she would enjoy having to spend more time with me than necessary."

"Believe me, she does. Very much so even. But she admires you too much to bother you with questions she believes to be too insignificant. Actually, she believes herself to be too insignificant. I try to tutor her as much as possible, but I am by far not the most proficient in the subject, nor can I teach her as much as she would want to learn."

"I certainly will consider speaking to the girl about assisting me then. Thank you, Miss Mitchell." McGonagall said in prevailing mild amusement, but definitely also appreciation, and then gave both Snape and Robin another nod. "Anyway, goodnight for now. I will see you both tomorrow."

As the professor left, Robin closed the door once again and let out a long breath while she followed Snape back to their stools. Perhaps McGonagall would ask Jorien for her assistance indeed, and that might just take some work off Robin's hands if the girl would get her answers from someone more adept in the subject.

"Funny." Snape said after a moment, as he gave Robin a teasing smirk. "You never admired me enough to spare me from your questions."

Robin gave him an immediate glare, but then also a smirk in return. "No, I admired you enough to know that you were the only one who could keep up with my questions in the first place."

"You've always been by far brighter than anyone around you." His smirk widened, and Robin rolled her eyes exaggeratedly to act over the warmth spreading in her chest and on her cheeks. "Logically, nobody but me could handle you even if you came with instructions."

"Hey!" She couldn't help laughing again at last, and nudged him in the shoulder before she slumped down in her seat. "I don't even know if that last part was supposed to be a compliment or an insult."

"That would be for you to decide."

Indeed, Robin decided on taking it as a compliment. If he thought that his intellect had somewhat found a match in her, she honestly could only feel flattered, brilliant as he was. Besides, he had long stopped insulting her for anything more than a tease in the first place… so a compliment it was. And honestly, Robin absolutely didn't mind that he was the only one who was able to handle her, and she even wholeheartedly agreed with that assessment. But the thought of handling things brought her on to a different topic of thought in an instant, and she frowned to herself for a second.

"I guess our plans for tomorrow are cancelled now, aren't they?" She stated more than asked, and the amusement faded off her face as it vanished from his as well. "I mean, we'll never make it all the way around the black lake between lunch and dinner, especially not in this snow. It'll be too dark to see our own feet even before we have walked half the distance if we start in the afternoon."

"Unfortunately." He sighed, then his face set in a scowl. "Teaching fifty fourth years how to dance certainly is the last thing I expected to do tomorrow."

For a second Robin had to snort at the confirmation of her previous assumption, in almost the same words even, but it was a bitter amusement and it confused Snape more than it cheered either of them up, so her face set back into a grim expression before long . "Too bad Sprout had urgent matters to attend to right on this weekend, out of an entire year to choose from."

"I was starting to believe I had once and for all gotten out of giving dancing lessons… The previous years I wasn't even asked to."

"I luckily only had to suffer through it once, during fifth year. Remember that? I danced with this redhead and everyone made a big deal out of it."

"How could I forget?" Snape huffed, rolling his eyes. "Minerva kept going on and on afterwards about how neat it would be to… encourage that non-existent connection she however believed to see between you and the Weasley boy."

Robin was the one rolling her eyes now, with an indignant scoff to accompany the expression. "Honestly, even back then I was far closer to you than to that boy, or to anyone at all really. You knew that, I even told you about it!"

"That you did." He confirmed, then lost some of the annoyance as he let out a quiet sigh. "I believe it isn't of relevance anymore, Minerva has long since come to her senses as has everyone else who attempted to conspire on the issue. But other than that, I would still like to hear more about your dancing lesson."

"Ah, yes…" Robin said, as the realization hit her that he probably hadn't received any such lessons during his time as a student nor gotten to witness the ones given in the previous years. "Well, uh, it wasn't spectacular actually. In the beginning there was a quick explanation about the whys and hows of dancing, and then McGonagall forced some seventh year boy to demonstrate the dance with her. After that we just had to pick a partner and practiced for like… two hours perhaps. A bit longer maybe. That's it."

"I assume Minerva corrected your errors while you practiced?"

"I'm not too bad at dancing, so she didn't concern herself much with me, but others' mistakes she did correct relentlessly from what I could tell."

"Good. I can do that."

"I think it'll actually be easier for you than it was for her." Robin shrugged at her own thought. "You shouldn't have the problem of people slacking off and fooling around. They're far too scared of you to cause any mayhem or refuse your orders. Easy."

The corner of his lips quirked up for a second, but then set back into a grim line. "I wouldn't call forcing some dunderhead to demonstrate the dance with me particularly 'easy'. Students are far less repelled by Minerva, which makes the entire endeavour less of a sickening prospect for her in return."

Either it was his self-deprecating words or the thought of him dancing with someone else that made Robin feel sour in an instant, but either way she had to swallow the lump in her throat down quite forcefully before she replied. "I… You… uh, I understand how dreadful it must seem to you to dance with someone. But I'm sure whoever you choose will be less repelled by it than you are, if that helps anything."

"I have no intention to force anyone to dance with me at all."

"Yes, no, but… I mean, since it's the fourth years we're speaking of anyway, I'm sure you could ask Jorien. She's quite indifferent to most people; she wouldn't care if she was dancing with you or with someone else. And if I ask her to do it, she will. Especially after I just advertised her to McGonagall."

"Actually, I was going to ask you." He said, surprisingly straightforward and direct in his approach of the topic. "For the favour of helping me with the entire lesson. It would be to the best advantage of everyone if the demonstration was nothing short of perfect, and an additional pair of eyes will certainly be beneficial for the students' practice afterwards as well."

A weight lifted off Robin's heart in an instant, and she had to smile at his through and through logical and desperately appropriate reasons for asking her assistance. "Of course I will help you. Anytime, with anything. You know that. And having someone to explain the female part will probably be good too."

"Likely. To be honest however, while those are all perfectly good reasons to ask you to do this with me, they aren't truly my measure. I rather know your presence is going to make the entire ordeal a lot more bearable, as it always does. And in the end, I would simply hate to dance with anyone but you, no matter the circumstances." He added after a moment, again in a shocking easy sincerity that almost had Robin's heart leaping out of her chest.

Her smile broadened until it was allconsuming in its radiance, like all those times when she failed to suppress the stupid hope that lived in every shadow of her mind these days. No. He would hate dancing with anyone else because Robin was the only person he found bearable to touch. Not because of any other reason. Who wouldn't choose a friend over a stranger? Her smile fell, her heart sank, and she couldn't help the hurt from showing in her eyes at least.

"You really should stop that, you know…" She finally said in a sad chuckle that was heartbreaking even to her own ears.

"What?" Snape asked in return, and his expression fell in accordance with Robin's. He looked almost taken aback, confused at least, about whatever he had obviously done wrong this time and Robin felt even worse for speaking up at all. She didn't dare to answer. So he asked again. "Stop what?"

"Forcing this ridiculous hope onto me." She said before she knew, with a sad smile and a gaze that dug souldeep into his. "Every time you say things like that, it forces a little more hope to seep through the cracks in my walls, and I need you to stop. I don't want to hope, I can't bear it… Hope is dangerous. It's torturing me."

Her words seemed to confuse him even more, and while he frowned deeply at her, the subtle hurt in his own eyes was undeniable. He wanted to understand what he had done wrong… she knew. But he hadn't done anything wrong at all, nothing but being who he was. And being who he was, he wouldn't let go that easily. "Hope for what, Robin? You have to be a bit more precise if I am to understand. And I would very much like to."

The sight, the thought almost broke Robin entirely, while his blissful oblivion almost made her laugh in return. Oh, how stupid could she be? For the first time he had done absolutely everything right by being completely honest, by trying to talk about an issue, and here she was, doing absolutely everything wrong in return. It wasn't his fault that she loved him too much, and it wasn't his fault that she couldn't handle her own stupid emotions.

"Nevermind." She sighed finally, tearing her eyes away from his to look down at her empty coffee mug on the table. "I'm just being stupid because my brain is too tired to function. You know me… I talk nonsense sometimes when I'm exhausted. If it wasn't for the stupid potion that just refuses to change colour, I'd be going straight to bed."

"Actually, it changed colour twenty minutes ago and I put a stasis on it to continue the work tomorrow afternoon."

Robin groaned in frustration and closed her eyes before hiding her face in her hands. "See! I didn't even notice! Great friend you have in me… and an even worse colleague. I'm such a failure…"

For a moment it was silent in the lab, and while Robin just hoped that she hadn't entirely screwed things up, she could practically hear his mind working at light speed. Gods, he had only said he quite liked to dance with her… and she'd gone on to make a scene of it. Great. So much for being better.

"To tell you the truth, I haven't the remotest idea what to do in a moment like this. What to say or do that would make things better for you and not worse. But I assume… perhaps this is the kind of situation where an embrace might prove helpful?" He finally spoke up, reluctantly and more than a little uncertain about his assessment of the situation, but without a hint of discomfort or doubt about the underlying offer he was making. Robin's hands dropped from her face in an instant, and before she knew, her eyes were filling with tears of adoration and exhaustion and overwhelm. His brows furrowed in return, his face a careful layer of neutrality.

Robin wanted to reply, wanted to say how damn right he was in that assumption, wanted to assure him that she wasn't being so bloody emotional because of anything he had done wrong, but because of all the things he was doing right. But all she could do was to nod, and then push herself off her stool to cross the space between them. Snape for his part stayed perched on the edge of his seat when Robin wrapped her arms around his shoulders, and he pulled her flush against him when his arms circled her waist in return. They were almost the same height like this, or at least closer to it, which allowed Robin to hide her face in the soft fabric in the crook of his neck when her tears finally started spilling over. She didn't even know why exactly she was being so bloody stupid right now, so ridiculous and pathetic and weird… Her almost-slip of emotions hadn't backlashed. Her secret was still safe. Their experimental potion was intact and waiting to be continued. She would get to dance with him tomorrow, and help him with a class. She even was wrapped up in the most comforting hug ever at the moment, if that alone wasn't enough reason to be happy! Everything was bloody perfect. And yet, when he ever so subtly started playing with the tips of her hair that cascaded down her back, a strangled sob escaped her lips and he stopped in an instant.

"No, please…" She sniffed before she could think better of it. His hands in her hair had felt so nice… a hint of a sign that he enjoyed their closeness as well. "Please keep doing that."

It took a few seconds before he complied, but once he did, Robin sighed under her breath, and she was almost sure that she felt him smile against her shoulder in return. True or not, the idea sufficed to send a shiver down her spine, and finally she found herself able to relax. The tension left her body like a burn washed away by the sweet relief of a cooling water, and while she sunk deeper into the warm comfort of another perfect embrace, her spiralling emotions became subject to her will once more. It really was alright… they were alright.

"I'm really looking forward to dancing with you tomorrow." Robin finally said, in a calm tone and with a calm mind once again. He deserved to know that much at least, and it was a perfectly appropriate thing to say. "The circumstances… nah, but as long as we're suffering through it together, it will be alright."

"I take it then that an embrace really does make you feel better. I shall have to remember." He replied in amusement, and while that did make Robin smile, she also wasn't fooled over the astonishment he tried to hide behind it. Indeed, it was rather sad to think that he wouldn't know how comforting the embrace of a beloved person could be. Or perhaps he simply doubted that his embrace would have this effect on her. Either way, Robin made a mental note to make him understand and believe both in the nearer future.

"You shall indeed, I do feel a lot better. Always, with you." She sighed softly and closed her eyes to enjoy the feeling of his arms around her now that she could focus on it at last. "Still am beyond tired though."

"Perhaps you should go to bed. Tomorrow certainly will be exhausting enough with all the dunderheads stumbling through the room and tripping over their own two feet."

"We should totally play bullshit bingo with the idiotic things they might say or do…" Robin chuckled to herself and absentmindedly traced the seams of his robes she could reach with her fingertips. "That might just make the entire ordeal more amusing. For us, at least."

"How… temptingly unprofessional." He drawled in return, and the deep tone of his voice being so delightfully juxtaposed by his words made Robin snicker even more. "We most definitely should play indeed."

"I think I'm a bad influence on you." She yawned, and somehow it was becoming increasingly difficult to keep her legs from giving out beneath her, now that her entire body was relaxing and being held up by his. "And I would have to say that I love it."

Her words made Snape chuckle, which was a sound so exquisite in its low rumbling depths that it sent new waves of shivers all over Robin's body, which left goosebumps in their wake in return. Bloody hell, he most definitely could feel the effects he had on her now… But at least he was kind or indifferent enough not to comment on it. She could always blame it on being cold or tired or something of that sort, should the necessity arise.

"You certainly have the strongest influence on me, and I daresay you are the only one I allow myself to be affected by in the first place."

"Well, if I'm the only one, being the strongest is hardly an accomplishment. And I would be the strongest and the weakest at the same time, you know…"

"Will you just take a compliment when I accidentally give you one for once, you insufferable little creature?"

"I can try." Robin grinned at his half humoured and half feignedly annoyed tone. "Even though I technically wouldn't call 'insufferable little creature' a compliment."

"But I would." Snape returned, and his smirk didn't need to be seen to make its way straight to Robin's heart, making it soar. "You are indeed quite tiny, as well as considerably different from any average humanness, and you most definitely are insufferable."

"Thanks…" She snorted, then stifled another yawn and wondered for a moment what would happen if she just fell asleep right in this spot; she was hardly supporting her own weight anymore anyway. Chances were high he'd wake her right back up or she'd cause him trouble if he tried not to, which wouldn't be much of a gain in either direction, and thus she banned the idea into the back of her mind.

"It seems like that was quite a weak attempt at humour on my end, going by your response. My apologies."

"No, I'm sorry, it really was funny! I'm just too tired to appreciate it properly."

"I still stand by my suggestion that you should go to bed. Teaching is more exhausting than one would assume, especially if it involves watching fifty students at once."

"You're right… I know."

That seemed to be the cue for both of them to ever-reluctantly let go of each other in the same silent agreement as always, and for Robin to sigh softly in disappointment at the loss of his delectable warmth and comfort in return. Yet, she didn't let any of it seep into her expression as she went to pick up her backpack from the other table and only turned back to Snape when she halted at the door before letting herself out.

"I really am looking forward to tomorrow." She said once again even though she'd told him already, but she couldn't help it. The excitement was there and it was strong, and he deserved to know. "I miss dancing with you."

He gave her one of his rare smiles in return, a genuine one that wasn't teasing or humoured but simply content and perhaps just a little excited as well. "This time I would like to ask you to dance though, if you will let me."

"Well, then you simply will have to be faster than me, won't you?" Robin smirked at him, wiggling her eyebrows for a second, and then had to laugh at her own ridiculous silliness. It really was too late for her own good. "Goodnight, Severus."

"Until tomorrow." He replied, and when Robin stepped out into the hallway with a huge smile lingering on her face, she couldn't help but think that perhaps it wasn't such a bad thing that their plans for tomorrow had been changed. Maybe she would have to thank Sprout for being absent at some point.

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