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cemeteryspider · 6 months ago

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The Two of Cups

Remy Lebeau x Mutant! Reader

Summary: Your ability was an innate connection with the world around you which lead you to the Xavier Mansion. As well as a certain Louisiana man.

Word Count: 2.6k

You were an oddball in the mutant community and an outcast of society. Largely you found peace in knowing this due to your connection to the spiritual relam. You found solace in the trees and wind and comfort in the changing seasons. In the lush grass and flower petals that dried your tears when no person was around for you.

Your mind often drifts, allowing you to find new places, unseen by human (or mutant) eyes in thousands of years. Some caves drew you in and allowed you to commune with wandering spirits, other times on high mountains the water would guide you through and out of danger.

It was a mutual trust, that you would respect the natural or physical world and the spirit world would guide you. Sometimes this leads to crystal shops with experts in divination or sad girls who would have their cards read by you and give their lives new meaning and a more hopeful disposition.

So you followed the whispers of the wind and the pull towards new adventures until you came across a quite large estate called Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters. You were no longer a "youngster" but still you padded on allowing the soft grass to show you the way to your next venture as you had done so many times before.

A man in an advanced looking wheelchair greeted you at the door, "Ah you are the one I saw in Cerebro. Definitely not what I was expecting."

He looked you up and down from the long thick skirts that gently brushed the ground to your hair you kept up and out of your face. His stare wasn't like any you felt before.

It wasn't the stare your friends gave when you first started reading the cards and could practically see through the girls you read. It wasn't the scared stare your parents gave you when they found you levitating in the air with the cards circling you in a protective manner. It certainly wasn't the stare of the people who yelled at you calling you a witch when walking the otherwise quiet streets of a small town. No, it was a state of awe and understanding.

"Pleased to meet you Mr. Xavier, my name is Y/n and it seems as though something pulled me to this place. Something strong," You looked around and saw children running around in the yard and teenagers practicing fledgling powers under the canopy of trees.

"No, the pleasure is all mine. There have been mutterings of someone with a spiritual connection roaming New York for the past few weeks, and when I saw you on Cerebro I knew I simply had to meet you."

The side of your mouth quirked up and you reached out your hand, which he gladly accepted, "Show me."

He guided you through the main building showing off classrooms filled with students learning math and history. Rooms dedicated to combat and self-defense. There were bedrooms, some colorful, some minimalist, and some dark and gloomy. Each place radiated a different emotion, the classrooms were focused with hints of boredom. The training rooms had an air of confidence and a slight fear of failure. Bedrooms had remnants of comfort and happiness, sadness, rest, wakefulness, love, and pity. Rarely were places so difficult to pin down.

He spoke about the architecture and the school's mission. You listened thoughtfully. Running your fingers along hundred year old wood paneling, and studying repairs made to walls carefully done to match. The kitchen had a rustic charm to it despite the overwhelmingly grandiose spectacle that was the rest of the estate.

Lastly you were on an elevator toward the lower floors of the mansion which were the newest additions to the property if the shift of decor told you the right story. There were endless halls of silver and doors with identity verification and a big doorway at the end with an X over it.

For a moment it overwhelmed you, never once in your travels were you taken to a place so modern, maybe even futuristic. The old towns with stories of witchcraft embedded into their history or rustic cabins next to trees that were hundreds of years old. Even to cliff faces that had been carved into by ancient peoples whose art can only be vaguely understood.

Except now you were in a different atmosphere, but with what you assumed to be the same goal, to help these people find themselves and provide guidance.

~~~

You entered a room whose ceiling was opened showing the sky and a winged jet landing in the room you were standing in. People descended the short flight of stairs to the floor and looked at Xavier and then to you.

"Is everything alright, professor?" A guy with what seemed to be a red visor covering his eyes. Despite his eyes being covered you could feel the concern radiating off of him. You almost scoffed at the thought that you would harm or threaten the man sitting next to you, but then you remembered how weary you were when you first started traveling the country and eventually the world.

After all, you were kicked out of the house with just what you could carry in your backpack. Even before that being cast aside by classmates who didn't understand you.

"Everything is perfectly fine, Scott. My X-Men I would like to introduce you to Y/n, the mutant I've been telling you about," He smiled and gestured toward you. It seemed as though that flipped a switch in the people before you.

They started to approach you starting with Scott, "I'm Scott Summers, also known as Cyclops, leader of the X-Men," He left you with a firm handshake.

Then a red-head, "I'm Jean Grey, a telepath and telekinetic, part of the X-Men. I've felt your presence in the psychic plane long before we met. It's a pleasure to finally connect with you face-to-face," She gave you a gentle hug and indeed it felt as though you've known each other for a long time.

You met others as well like Ororo, Rogue, and Jubilee but one person in particular seemed to catch your eye, "Bonjour, ma chérie! The name's Gambit, but you can call me Remy if you like."

He extended his hand to you but instead of the handshake the men before had offered he flipped your hand over and kissed your knuckles. You could feel your cheeks heat up, and he walked away with a wink.

"Why does the Cajun get all the pretty ladies that come in?" a figure with grayish-white skin, white eyes, and indistinct features grumbled beside a short man with prominent sideburns.

"Finally, my time to introduce myself. I'm Morph, probably second or maybe third in the mansion's prettiest man competition," he laughed, giving you a friendly pat on the back. "See you around, Tarot."

Then the man with sideburns grumbled something nearly incomprehensible but you could catch the word Logan in the midst of the mumbles.

"Those were the X-Men, my own vision and step toward human and mutant coexistence. I hope that you will stay and perhaps guide the wandering souls that reside here."

For a moment you felt a reluctance, the hope for an adventurer's life still called, wandering the Earth helping as many people as you could handle. Spending as much time as possible in the woods and a life outside the public eye. Then you remembered the pull and how it has never lead you to a place you didn't enjoy or to people you didn't befriend.

So you stayed.

A month after that fateful day you had become an integral member of the Xavier Institute. Caring for hurt children by bandaging their wounds, acting as sort of a counselor for the teenagers who feel abandoned or children who are having a hard time transitioning, and most importantly restoring spiritual balance to the mansion.

Though not quite as spiritual, the Professor, as you had taken to calling him, allowed you to place spiritual protection around the house. Selenite in window sills to cleanse the area and promote positivity. Placed black tourmaline near the doors of the house to absorb negative energies that may come through. Amethyst near the bedrooms for calming energies.

You often could be seen walking around the house with a burning sage bundle in your hand waving it around doorways and windows and sometimes circling the crystals with it. To some of the X-Men it was odd to them, but then they saw the effects on the students.

Some of them were able to look at one of the crystals in any of the rooms in the house and take a deep breath grounding themselves, and then take another stab at what they were working on. Whether that be a math equation, a vocab word, or a new skill with their abilities. Sometimes they even went to you for advice and even asked you to read their cards, which you did every once in a while.

If someone were to peek into the office, that Charles Xavier graciously granted you when you brought it up one day, they would usually see the three card spread. Past, Present, and Future. You gave comfort to the children worried about their lives and if they'll survive their adolescence. Maybe the clarity spreads for teenagers who have a specific situation they want insight on, whether it be a lover, a friendship, or even their mutant abilities.

One day when you were shuffling your deck you heard a sharp knock on the door, "Come in."

None other than Remy Lebeau walked through the door. He looked a tad nervous around at your dimly lit office filled with candles and burning incense.

You had been getting to know him more recently. One on one sparring with him while the rest of the team had paired up. Or sat next to each other at briefings and meals. Sometimes he even sat in your office grabbing bandages or holding hands as you disinfected wounds.

"Hey, Cher... Gambit was wonderin'... maybe you could read my cards,'' He was sharply eyeing a specific crystal with uneasiness. You were aware that he didn't mess with the supernatural.

Your brows furrow and you sit up straighter, "There's no magic here Remy, just a connection to the spiritual, its connection to me, and my connection to the cards."

His eyes soften and he quickly sits in the comfy chair on the other side of your table, "Okay Cher, I trust you."

He came from New Orleans, a deeply spiritual place with strong links to history, slavery, and powerful spiritual figures. You had observed the thin veil between the physical and spiritual during a couple of your many adventures, but you never felt the need to stay. You knew exactly when your time in New Orleans was done as soon as it was, then usually by the next day you were off again.

"Okay, hon," You started shuffling the cards between your hands and between your fingers as you speak, "What are you looking to ask the spirits?"

"Well, I was wonderin', well there's this girl I really like, and I was wondering what I should do about it?" He was idly picking at his fingers, staring at the cards in your hands, or at the walls, really anywhere but your eyes.

You toyed with some ideas in your head for a moment before choosing a spread of your own creation, "This will be a three card spread, the first card is how you really feel about her, no rose tinted glasses no nothing, the second card is how she feels about you, and the third is whether you should act on this or not."

"Okay, petite, let's do this," You fan the cards out and allow him to choose the cards he is most drawn to. You saw him crack his knuckles and reach for the cards. As he touched them you felt a pull towards him, and once the last card was set on the table you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding in.

You gesture him to flip the first card over, and the face of the card is revealed. Four tall pillars holding up greenery with two people and a castle in the background.

You smile at the card, "The Four of Wands."

Remy looked up at you patiently and waited for your words, "This woman is your idealistic love. The universe has gifted you with your perfect match."

A smile started to play on his lips and you nodded your head toward the second card on the table. A naked blonde woman collecting water under a sky brightly filled with stars.

"This is The Star. This is a romantic and spiritual connection, there is a force known or unknown drawing her to you and most likely vice versa," You glance over at Remy's growing smile, "Is this going as you had planned?"

He looked up at you with wide eyes, and shook it off quickly, "Chere, I'm... I'm not sure."

You place your hand on his, "Will you flip the last card, Chere?"

You placed your hand over the familiar card and gently flipped it over. The people facing each other holding chalices.

"This is The Two of Cups, a deep mutual understanding usually of a romantic nature. Looking at this spread I see two people being drawn together both by proximity and spiritual connection. The you should tell her how you feel as the cards seem to point to a potential romantic relationship forming," You look up at him waiting for him to say something.

"Well, Chere, I thought you would talk me out of doing this, but it seems that the stars have aligned," He took a deep breath before looking deeply into your eyes, "Ever since I first saw you, I've felt drawn to you. Moth to a flame and all that, but I wasn't sure about how to approach the topic. I guess I'll just go for it, would you like to go out with Gambit sometime."

You could see him nervously fidgeting with the hem of his shirt and his eyes darting across your face. All you could do was smile, "Yes, Remy I would love to go out with you."

An all out smile formed on his face from ear to ear, the crows feet at the edges of his eyes crinkled. It wasn't long before you were sitting in the kitchen late at night and enjoying Louisiana cuisine made by the Cajun himself.

Then it was a walk around the garden at dawn or training together that inevitably lead to making out against the walls of the Danger Room and quickly rezipping suits and pulling on garments seconds before the next set of people were scheduled to come in.

It had been a few months after you had made the relationship official and you were moving your collection of crystals, books, and other spiritual items into Remy's room with his help of course when you had realized you hadn't felt the pull to leave. You had finally found a place to call home, where you truly belonged and the spiritual world was letting you rest. After years of wondering and meeting and leaving you had found a place to stay.

The very next hour you had approached Charles Xavier and agreed to stay. You had been discussing teaching art and self-control classes with him for a little while, but now you were committed to staying as long as he would have you.

That came with a permanent place among the X-Men team which you happily accepted.

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juniperdugong · 7 months ago

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Relationship Quirks 96s ver.

Aka habits I can see the boys doing in a relationship || 95s || 96s || 97s || Maknae line ||

Junhui

Avoids foods you don't like or are allergic to

You thought it was weird when after you had mentioned that you were allergic or didn't like a certain food that you would never encounter it when you were with Jun. Of course, you would always avoid it but you knew Jun to not be that picky, in fact, he's quite an adventurous eater. So it just struck you as odd.

That is until you overhear him on the phone with the restaurant you guys were having a date at later tonight asking about the ingredients used in certain dishes and if {insert food here} was used. When you talk to him about this he casually says that he just wants to make sure that you eat well and like what you eat. (THE SWEETEST BOY IN THE WORLD)

Little do you know that he's started to exclude those foods from his diet as well, especially if it's an allergy you have. If it's a food you don't like then he doesn't want you to avoid kissing him if he's eaten it. BUT IF IT'S AN ALLERGY, red alert red alert, he thinks you'll go into anaphylactic shock if he eats something you're allergic to and then he touches/kisses you.

If you're not by his side when he's making decisions then it feels like the balance of the universe is off. Could be halfway across the world from each other and dude is calling you at 3am to ask which magnet he should bring home as a souvenir.

Hoshi

Needs your input on almost every decision he makes

Ooh it's bad, like looking at your parents when the doctor asks what your age is type of bad. He will know exactly what he wants at a restaurant but as soon as the waiter comes he's looking at you like a sheep and you have to mouth what he said he wanted seconds ago as he repeats you blindly. Almost all his decisions must have you're input or else he doesn't know what to do. This might be annoying to some but he values what you have to say so much. And honestly, if you disagree with something he takes it into genuine consideration and thinks about it a lot before making the final call.

His mindset can be summed up like this, "If y/n doesn't think I'll like that pasta then I probably won't like it, they know me very well."

Dude is clingy but not in a physical way... just in the way that he follows you around like a cat that wants your attention but can't say it. He does it unconsciously and to be honest it takes a mutual friend or one of the boys to point it out for either of y'all to notice. Truly it feels like he has to stay within a 30ft. radius of you sometimes.

Wonwoo

Follows you everywhere

The reason this behavior even started was because he missed you so much after tours and arduous schedules that he just HAD to be near you but he never wanted to initiate physical contact. (Being near you is enough for him) It's gotten to the point though that he ASSUMES you're taking him everywhere with you. You're upset and need "space"? Good luck! You'll be in another room for max 5mins before he's in there sitting the farthest possible distance he can while keeping you in sight.

"I can't do this right now, Wonwoo." "Fine then." "I'm going to my mom's place for a while." *Magically has both your suitcases and bags packed* "When are we leaving?"

I know I know... it's unexpected but true! The thing that I don't think a ton of carats realize is that this man does not fear affection AT ALL. He just doesn't like it in public displays. So in the privacy of his studio or at either of your homes, he is clingy, 100%.

Woozi

Needs to feel your touch

Has a computer chair that is specifically for you to be next to him while he's in the studio. If you're in the same room as him or HELL even the same building and there are no cameras or minimal people and you're not next to him then what even is the point? Might as well tell him you hate him or something, at least that's how he treats it.

The crazy part is that he doesn't even ask you for affection! He'll just say things out loud and expect you to get the message or he'll say things directly towards you but won't look in your direction. His number one phrase is, "I miss you..." all while you're feet away from him on the couch in the studio. You can be sitting in your designated chair BUT YOU DON'T HAVE YOUR LEGS DRAPED OVER HIS???? Suddenly, you hear a constant loop of "Damn, I miss my partner sooooo much, right now.", like sir? They're right there?

A/N: I am clinically insane over the 96 line. ALSO EVERYONE SAY HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO WONWOO!!!! (Even though it's literally 10pm and his day is nearly over) I'll try to have the next 2 parts out sometime tmrw. Stay sweet lovelies!! Reblogs and comments are like power surges for my writing so they are much appreciated!

TAGLIST (open): @bemybabiibish

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gatheringbones · 19 days ago

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You seem like the kind of person to be delightfully honest about my problem, and the fact that you are already in a successful relationship encourages me; as long as i can remember, i have been trying to make friends and connections but i always fail. If i may refrence a half remembered quote from a book i think you posted, i think it's like they can smell the desperation off me, and the fact that a "normal" "well adjusted" person wouldn't go to bat for them that quickly, like they can see the abandoned autistic kid crawling out my skin. One would think that once i found queer people the problem would be solved, but even then they were the 'cool' party kids having exciting autonomous adventures, so my inability to do so struck even nore of a loser nerve, i think. I thought that this last semester i finally found the person that was as interested in the relationship as me (constant, daily conversations for *months*), but they unexpectedly blocked me and vagued about how I was annoying and that they just used my passion for certain things to start drama. Plus, they had other, year long friends so i shouldn't have expected differently... How can I get over being ignored even by other "freaks", even if we're supposed to stick together or something?

that dream of the discerning/accepting/loving family of lovers and dreamers is a double edged sword. it has existed before, it will exist again, it exists even now— but like all deep trickster magic it’s elusive and multidimensional and not encountering it when you expect and long for it hurts very badly, as you’ve experienced.

you’re in the period of bashing against the jagged rocks while you realize that there isn’t actually a sacred pact based on mutual self interest and adoration between all mad queer persons. that’s part of the magic and it’s one of the only ways you gain access to the higher and deeper spells. your shame and heartbreak and disappointment are context for what comes next.

only truly loving and brave and rare human beings will regard and handle you in the manner you wish to be handled and regarded. being that loving and brave in a world like this crushes and rends and tears a person; they accrue so much damage just for behaving decently and maintaining hold of their compassion and discernment in a world that wants nothing more than to cauterize it out of them, just as it wishes to cauterize the dream of true love and solidarity out of you.

If you study everything you can get your hands on about love and respect and how to care for and nurture other people, you’ll hone some of the skills you will need to recognize these very rare persons in the wild. If you are unbelievably lucky, you may be able to comport yourself in such a way that you earn their regard and trust. More dashing against the jagged rocks will ensue. It will hurt worse than anything you can imagine. You will be reliant on miracles and the whims of a capricious universe.

Have fun, be brave! The way out is deeper into the horror story.

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prettyboykatsuki · 1 year ago

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VIOLET | RAZOR. (GENSHIN)

✾ tags ; afab + gn!reader, aged-up characters, virginity loss/first times, established relationship, mutual virginity loss, nipple play, fingering, oral (f!recieving), creampies (reader is using a contraceptive), reader is mentioned to be an orphan / run away , 18+

✾ wc ; 6.1k (went to edit and went 700 words over the wc. pain)

✾ a/n ; i'm losing my mind btw. razor my only triple crowned character my most greatly beloved my angel my sweet. also i added the aged up tag mostly bc its the genshin fandom but. if u dont like that dont read. ez peazy.

also trust and believe the voice im picturing in this is his jpn dub. this is important

✾ synopsis ; you resolve yourself after many long years of abstinence, you're going to ask razor about sex the minute he comes home.

Razor is human.

On a technical level, this information isn’t news to you. He looks human. His physical makeup is human. He needs to eat and sleep like humans do. Focusing on the technicals alone, Razor is very, very human.

It doesn’t change that he was raised by wolves, though. And you don’t want it too. You think it’d be a shame if he started to assimilate too much into human society just because he felt like he had too. You know how he feels about it. And that Boreas is the closest he’s ever had to a father figure, thus making his claim about Razor's humanity a rather devastating blow. He feels inhuman all while knowing he is. You think once upon a time, he really did wish to be a wolf.

You’ve known Razor since you were a teenager. You’d ended up in Wolvendom after your exploration of Teyvat led you to its outskirts. You’d bonded over your similarities. Two orphans with no real place where they fit in completely and complete odd-ball personalities - Razor was an easy friend for you to make. Even when you eventually decided to settle into Mondstat - you’d made a point to visit Razor regularly and spend time with him in the forest.

You made an odd pair of course, but you didn’t mind. If no one else understood you in the world - you know Razor always would. He’d listen patiently about all of your adventures and sit quietly as you decided to pester him by braiding his hair or teaching him new words. Loyal, obedient, sweet.

You never formally had the boyfriend conversation in the time you’d spent together. One day, however, Razor took you to meet Boreas out of the blue as well as the leader of his pack. You figured maybe it was something he did with his close friends. It only occurred to you that maybe this was a more serious meeting when Razor promptly gestured towards you and introduced you as his mate.

Razor, predictably, was very confused about your minor freak out. You tried not to let it show during your little chit-chat, but afterwards you’d shaken him by the shoulders and interrogated him about his word choice. This of course didn’t register in his mind at all. According to Razor, you’d been his mate since long ago. He’d been courting you since the moment you met in the way wolves are known too. You’re an adventurer, well-versed in certain animal behaviors for the sake of survival, including wolves.

And looking back on your interactions he was right, Razor had been courting you from the start. The news made you flush, and you went back into Razors camp and thoroughly educated him on human courting rituals.

(“Why matter?” Razor asks, head laid in your lap while he looks up at you from inside the tent “Not important.”

“Why would it not be important?”

He turns towards you, head facing your stomach as one arm lazily wraps around your waist. He yawns sleepily, seemingly not worried about a thing.

“You are mate. Mate last until death.” He explains, casually - like he’d always believed he’d spend every minute of his life with you. Like that was the only natural outcome for you both and that he’d never consider anything else. You want to explain, it’s different for humans. Humans don’t usually mate that way, you should say. But the words die out in your mouth as he clings closer to you “Sorry for..not asking.. properly. What are we…as humans?”

You look down at where he lays, thumb brushing over his cheek.

“Lovers or life partners. They’re closest to the word mate, in definition.”

“Lovers easier,” He grumbles, eyebrows tightening at the complex words in your sentence “You want to be lovers with Razor?”

You laugh. Light and bubbly and warm as you lean forward and try to mask the tears welling up in the corners of your eyes.

“Yes. We’re lovers from now on. And mates. And lupical, right?”

Razor sighs contentedly into your midriff.

“And lupical.”)

According to Razor, you had been mates from the minute you met. According to your human timeline, you have been dating since you were both around 17. It’s been a long time since then and nothing in your relationship has changed.

You’re an adult now and you work with the city of Mondstat studying wildlife populations. You live in the city in a cottage, and Razor lives with you - though he spends most of his day outside. He does the domestic labor while you whittle away at papers and projects. Because of your job, you still spend a fair bit of time together in the wild. He has plenty of insight about the wildlife in Wolvendom and is keen enough on changes to give significant contribution to your study. His work as your partner is unofficial, but everyone acknowledges that you come together in a set. Where you go, Razor follows.

You’re happy with your life. With your relationship to your wolf-boy boyfriend, with the career you’ve carved out of scratch and the life you’ve built. You left your orphanage young and spent a long time on the run. You’re incredibly thankful for all of what you have and you could never think of what more to ask for.

This is especially true for you and Razor. You’ve never had any real major obstacles in your relationship. Part of this comes from the wolven habit of mating for life. Concepts like pride are foreign to Razor. He says sorry even when he doesn’t completely understand and he has no concept of betraying your loyalty. Most things you can teach, he learns very quickly. But there are also some things no one ever teaches you to navigate. Some boundaries you can’t be sure you’re allowed to cross.

You’re a blossoming, healthy person in their twenties and so is Razor. He’s scarred and athletic in the outdoorsy way and he’s a little more rugged now that you’ve both grown. He’s hit a growth spurt and he’s taller than you and every time you see his arm flex carrying in an entire boar to butcher in your yard - you start getting so hot under the collar you feel like you’re going to explode.

The problem is: you want to have sex and you want to have it badly. You want it so bad it’s starting to make you feel like you’re a deviant. Like you’re some kind of harlot masquerading as an archon-fearing civilian.

But it’s so hard to bring up and you don’t know how you’re ever going too.

You’re very good at asking for what you want usually. It comes with the territory. And thanks to your boyfriend's cluelessness about human social convention, asking for things isn’t embarrassing. Concepts like shame are learned through a lifetime of socialization that he lacks and while you could sit and try to teach him - you don’t think he would care either way. He listens if you tell him he shouldn’t do something, but that’s because you’re his mate and his lupical.

What other people think is none of his concern. He cares about his Lupical. So if Lisa or Bennet or Klee tell him something, he might take it into consideration. But they, like you, love the parts of Razor that make him how he is and his complete innocence in some ways is part of that.

You know you could very well ask Razor for sex. You’ve spent a lot of time together and you’ve learned many things about him. It’s not like there’s nothing there at all. Like his every other trait, Razor normally relies on instinct to guide him. You’ve learned through kisses and dry-humping that he can get hard at least. You’ll probably never know the details of his arousal, and the only you’ll ever find out is by having sex with him.

You don’t know what else he knows. What Lisa has told him of the birds and the bees.

You have tried to ask Lisa inadvertently, but she enjoys making fun of you too much to give you any straightforward answers. And in her own maternal way, she thinks it’d be better for your relationship if you go ahead and ask yourself.

She’s right about that, but it’s also not very easy. You know Razor would never judge you. He doesn’t even have the capacity to do so. But while Razor knows nothing of shame, you certainly do.

It’s your problem to get over. You know that. You rationalize that your fantasies are healthy and normal for someone your age. But there is something terribly humiliating about trying to express the extent of your desire apart from just having it. Is it fair to teach Razor about desire? Does he know of it already and the both of you just suffer in silence?

Razor is a man. A grown man, and tougher than most men you know. He’s seen more than almost anyone else as part of living in the woods. You know he’s not some innocent fairy. But you can’t get over the feeling like you’re corrupting his sweet preciousness somehow.

(This has its own charm, but that’s not relevant. Or maybe it is. Maybe there’s guilt for that too but it’s not something you can unpack)

You’re reaching your upper limit on patience. Your hand can only do the job so long (though the import of sex toys from Fontaine do help) nothing can truly replace what you want. And what you want is Razor.

So, you’ve made your choice. When Razor comes home from…what he’s doing today - you’re going to ask him to have sex.

You’ve finished all of your work, did as many chores as you can, and now you’re waiting in your bedroom trying to read a book.

You haven’t even read past the first page, actually. But you’re trying. It’s hard to do anything meaningful when your brain keeps pivoting back to what's going to happen when your boyfriend returns home.

You’re nervous and fidgeting, rubbing your socked feet together and running over the laundry list of talking points you’ve concocted trying to make this happen. You shaved but not bare because you know he definitely wouldn’t like it, but you’re clean. You aren’t sure if he’s going to like that either and he’s expressed that he likes when you smell natural. But it soothed your anxiety to shower so he’ll have to leave with it.

You have no idea how this could go. You don’t even know how to prepare for the worst, because you don’t know what the worst is. But you reassure yourself with the fact Razor loves you and leave it at that.

You hear the door open and take a deep breath.

There’s heavy footsteps that get louder and louder. Razor cracks the door open politely, peeking his head into your shared room. He makes a face, the softest little smile you’ve ever seen - before letting himself in and shutting the door behind him. He’s quick to undress himself - jacket and scarf abandoned along with his boots. Leaving him in green pants and a bandage around his chest and arsm.

“Hi,” He says simply, coming down over to where you’re laid. He chooses to sit on the floor, folding his arms on the bed as he looks at you patiently “Missed you,”

“Hey there,” Your heart is pounding just looking at him. He’s unreasonably handsome. Had he grown up in normal conditions, you think he would’ve been a very popular loner type. “How was your family?”

“Good,” He says shortly, eyes warm and light “New pup. First time seeing since I was little. Very small and cute.”

“I’m glad. Bet it’s nice not to be the youngest anymore.”

“Come next time,” He says genuinely “They miss you.”

Your heart is so full you think it might burst. It temporarily soothes your anxiety.

“Of course I will.”

Razors eyes examine you for a minute. Your heart is still racing. Of course he notices it. He knows much more about you than you’ll ever know about yourself. His brow creases in concern.

“What’s wrong?”

You look at him apologetically, immediately warmed by how worried he is. You give him a small smile.

“I’m okay. Just a little nervous. Wanted to ask you about something.”

“Okay. I listen. No need to..be nervous.”

Right. He’s right about that. You sit up and Razor remains where he is. He’s seated comfortably on the floor, on his knees - between your thighs. He’s a sight for sore eyes, terribly rugged and scarred with nothing but honesty settled in his gaze. Carmine and beautiful. You fold your hands in your lap and before you can worry too much, Razor grabs one in his hand.

He kisses your knuckles so gently, leaning his face into your palm.

“It’s okay.”

You figure it’s best to be straight to the point.

“Uhm. Razor. Do you…know what sex is?”

“Yes.”

“Well, it’s—wait what? Did you just say yes?”

He nods again. “Miss Lisa taught me.”

That witch. You take a deep breath. It’s now or never.

“And uhm, what did she tell you about it?” You ask tentatively.

“Like mating but for humans. Best to do with mate. Good to be careful or else pups will come too soon.”

You stare at him, jaw slack.

“Right. And what else?”

He racks his brain right in front of you.

“Uhm. Can be for…feel good. Should go slow. Lots of things different from wolf.”

“...Do you know how it happens? The specifics?”

Razor goes a soft pink. Razor blushes.

“Yes.”

You have no idea what to feel. Not the faintest clue in the world. This is the first time in your entire relationship either of you have been in an awkward situation. You’re partially relieved it’s not completely foreign, partially feeling hot between the legs because you’re not corrupting anything. You make a face of uncertainty.

“Oh. Uhm. Do you—have you ever.. I mean—have you ever wanted to have sex with me then? I-is that something you’d…want to do?”

Razor almost looks perplexed by this question. He nods, then follows up.

“Yes. A lot.”

You nearly choke on your spit.

“A lot?”

“Yes. But.. Miss Lisa said to wait. Until mate asks.”

You’re going to have a serious discussion with that damned woman later. You take a shaky breath, looking at him carefully. This is going to break you in a way you don’t know if you’ll recover from. But you’re fine, you’ve made it this far. And you don’t want to back down when you haven’t gotten to the finish line. The final blow.

You’re not completely sure where you go from here honestly. Your brain was fully expecting to go on a long rant about sexual intercourse. Now that that’s out of the window, you’re at a loss. You decide, internally, that going straight forward is the best thing you could do for now.

“Then… would you want to have sex with me?”

His eyes widen then he pauses, looking worried.

“Well…yes. But, worried. Not sure…how.”

“Well, uhm. Normally it starts with kissing and t-touching and things like that. You can just do what feels right. Uhm.. and I’ll tell you… what I like. A-and what feels good.” You offer, trying not to show just how nervous you are even suggesting “But uhm… I also… think about it. A lot. With you.”

His eyes light up, and you can practically see the change in him. You’ve never let yourself get close enough to look but when you see him now that you know, it’s obvious. He’s looked at you like this before.

Like he wants you.

“Razor,” You say, bracing yourself for impact “Come up here.”

He’s quick to his feet. You lay back down and Razor lays himself ontop of you, hovering gently. He smells like forest, the rich warm scent of dirt and sunlight mixed with sweat that you’ve grown fond of. Looking down at you, he presses his forehead against yours with his eyes fluttered closed.

“Mate,” His breath is warm like he’s been chewing mint leaves and sweet flowers. He does it sometimes before coming home “Love you,”

“I love you too, Razor. You don’t,” You swallow thickly, suddenly aware of your proximity “Don’t hold back okay? You won’t break me.”

“Want to..” He thinks slowly, brain clearly struggling to come up with the right word “Cherish. Want to cherish mate. Cherish you.”

You give him a breathy laugh as he leans in close to you.

“Did Miss Lisa teach you that?”

“Yes,” He replies, pressing his cheek to yours and rubbing himself against you innocently “Cherish you a lot.”

“I cherish you a lot too,” You offer and he smiles. You feel your heart thump as you look up at him less innocently “Let’s kiss first, okay”

He doesn’t reply. This much is familiar. Though this was something you had to teach him at first, you would go as far as saying Razor kisses better than you. He’s better than you in these ways most of the time. He knows how to read your body language down to the most irrelevant details, attuned to your physicality in a way that could only be inhuman. The first time he noticed a change in your cycle after starting some herbal contraceptives, you were turned on as much as you were afraid.

His mouth is hot and overwhelming, plush as he kisses you passionately. He’s quick to open your mouth up with his tongue. Razor likes to taste. It’s natural for him to slip his tongue past your lips and lick at yours. You think if anyone else did it you’d be turned off. But with him hovering you over you, desperate as he pulls and nips at your lower lip - it’s stimulating. It makes you wet before you can think about it too hard. Your hands curl themselves around his neck, tangling at the thick roots of his gray hair.

He moans when you tug, and your eyes nearly pop out of your sockets. You do it again, a little harder and the same broken sound leaves his lips in the middle of kiss. You swallow the noise before pulling away, looking at his face. His face is perfectly rosy, lips swollen from where you’ve been kissing them.

“Did you,” You look at him erratically, eyes going over every part of his face “Did that feel good?”

He nods, dumbfounded.

“Felt good but,” He shakes his head in disbelief “Don’t know why.”

You giggle, delighted with the outcome.

“No it’s good, that’s normal.” You say trying not to babble “It’s like your body’s weak point.”

“Not weak.”

“It’s not a bad thing. I have some too. Like my neck.”

You can see the gears turning in his head. He tucks his chin against your shoulder and before you can speak to ask him about it, he’s pressing his lips against the skin of your neck. He doesn’t stop at a kiss, though. He proceeds to lick the small patch of tender flesh, before sinking his teeth into it.

You moan. You moan sharp, almost like a gasp of pain. He opens his mouth to ask if you’re okay but when he sees you he stops. He blinks, then gives you a look you’ve never seen.

His voice is almost chipped - richer and more hoarse as his fingers go over what can only be bite marks.

“Feels good?” He says, then adds more urgently “Where else?”

You’ve made him discover something. You’re sure of that. He looks awfully determined about it, too.

You sigh shakily, grabbing his hands. Even though you’re trembling mercilessly, you want this. You want him. You let his hand squeeze around the swell of your tits - your nipples peeking through the thin fabric of your shirt. With your eyes locked on his, you brush your nipples.

“H-here,” You admit watching his eyes go dark. Animalistic. “Uhm. W-with your mouth, you c-can suck on them.”

He’s quiet.

“Like pup?”

You laugh.

“A little bit like that, I guess. But it’s different.”

He makes a small, approving noise with his mouth, once again thinking hard about something before he continues down his path. He leaves open kisses all over your skin, hands reaching to undress you. You help him, peeling your shirt over your head and tossing it somewhere. His eyes are shut closed, in bliss as he licks and bites down your neck with no real grace. His tongue is wet and rough all over you.

You can tell you’re being primed for something animal. Like being tenderized, worked apart in a way that makes you melt into something soft. Something that can be broken without teeth, that can be swallowed in one go. It’s not a romantic kiss as much as it’s a hungry graze, a gnawing lust. He’s not being so reserved anymore, and that means sinking his teeth as far into you as he can go, not enough to break the skin. Razor would never break you. But he might ruin you, might melt you down from your very center until he can tear you apart.

You thought it’d hurt, and it does - but in a good way. There’s some sick sense of relief in how achy your whole body is. You’re burning up because Razor wants you like he’s starving. An emptiness claws at you, makes the back of your gums ache. Makes all the hairs on the back of your neck stand nearly straight as you sink deeper in. You want to be full of him and you want him to get so full off of you.

Razor doesn’t stop his tirade even when he gets down to your chest. Instead his mouth closes around your tit, hard incisors sinking into the supple skin but only slightly gentler than before. His canines feel sharper than yours. They must be.

“O-oh,” You can feel your voice shake as you hold onto the back of his head. He touches the other one with his free hand, squeezing and massaging the skin. He rubs your nipples experimentally in the same way you did a moment ago. “Razor, hngh,”

A noise is pulled from the back of his throat, a growl - so hard and heavy that it reverberates into your skin. You can feel it spread through your whole body, your core tightening up. Your skin is prickly. A solar flare shooting through your spine.

You don’t think you’ve ever been so aroused. You can hardly breathe around the weight of it sitting in your chest.

“Your scent..change.” Razor says through a breath, a thick layer of saliva where his mouth once was “Hot. So hot.”

You nearly whimper.

“ It’s because I’m wet…Aroused.”

“Wet?”

“It means I want to be touched. I want you to touch me down there.”

A beat of silence.

“Want me..to mate with you.” He sits up onto his knees, staring at you. Your legs are around his waist loosely. He presses a hand to your clothed sex. You jolt at the contact. “Want me to fill you, here?”

He puts his hand on your hip, on your stomach - before tucking his fingers into the waistband of your shorts.

“Want to see. What’s wet, I want to see.”

You lift your legs slightly, pulling your shorts off as you're bent at the knee. It’s embarrassing being bare naked in front of Razor, though you’ve seen him in the same state plenty. He’s quick to grab your knee and force your legs apart wide. He’s got that same focused stare, tongue poked out as he brushes the coarse hairs on your mound with his knuckle. You squirm under the feeling.

“Pretty,” He says first, then follows with “It’s…very warm. Hot but doesn’t hurt”

Razor explores with his hands. He runs his finger along your slit, before using his thumbs to spread you apart. He nudges your clit. At first you wonder if it's an accident, but when he does it again - rubs a pointed circle on the aching bundle of nerves you realize he’s being intentional.

“Here, right?” Razor says slowly and gauges your reaction “Feels good for you…here. Helps.”

You want to ask who taught him such a thing but you already know the answer. You nod helpless, feeling the way his thumb goes back and forth. He tries it in different ways, watches whatever way makes your breath hitch the most.

“Here makes you… jump. Like bunny rabbit. Like prey”

The word prey almost takes you out. You can’t make your words out very eloquently anymore. “It’s uhm sensitive.”

He knows the word. You’ve taught him it. He looks at your bare cunt all awestruck, gloved hand resting on your sex as he continues to toy with your clit. You squirm and shake, even trying to pull away. Razor manages to grab you, keeps you pinned with your legs spread, using his own body to keep you like that.

“Razor,” You moan, grabbing at his wrist “Razor.”

“Mm. It’s soft. So soft.”

“I want to see yours.”

It takes him a second to register your words, but he’s not ashamed in the slightest when he does. He takes off his gloves right before. You’ve felt it, briefly, the weight and heft of his cock through clothes but you’ve never actually seen it. You gasp as he pulls it out, tucking his pants down under his balls. He’s hairy - thick dark gray hairs nested at the base. His cock has a pretty curve up, tip ruddy and bright. It’s drooling, dribbling pre-cum and heavy. He wraps his free hand around the base and strokes it instinctively. It’s a good length, but it’s thick. Thicker than you could’ve ever conjured up in your own mind.

You reach for it between your bodies, your hands trembling as you touch it. Razor lets out another throaty growl. Your hand doesn’t fit around it completely. The back of your throat tightens up.

“You’re—it’s big. I can’t—not at once. I h-have to open myself up a little bit.”

Razor tilts his head to one side and you shake yours in reply.

“I need to uhm,” You gesture vaguely “Make it more..wet and stretch myself out. So you fit i-inside.”

“Want to help. Teach me.”

“...Teach you?”

“Easier if I..learn now. When we do it again later. Teach me..how to touch you.”

The words sound sweet coming out of his mouth, honeyed and loving. An obedient and eager pupil, Razor has always been that hasn’t he? And he always listens the best he can, tries his hardest. You suppose that this instance is no different. You suck in a breath and spread your legs a little more.

“Watch,”

Razor watches. He watches as you dip your fingers into your mouth and coat them with saliva. Watches as you snake a hand in between your legs and dip your middle finger down low into your cunt - with a trembling sigh at the sudden intrusion. He watches intimately as you pump them in and out, rhythmic and noisy. The sound of your own wet heat rings in your ears as you spread yourself in earnest.

Half-way through, Razor puts a hand on your thigh. He pushes your own hand away, and waits for you to open your eyes. He stares at you, long and hard.

“I want to eat you. Want to lick,” His hand cups your bare pussy “Here. Make you wet. Open you by myself. Want to eat.”

You’re speechless. Profoundly turned on by the sentiment, so much so you can’t make out your own voice.

“Uhm,” You close your hands into a fist, tucking your chin. “You can do whatever you like, Razor.”

He assesses the statement and you watch him take it in. He ends up on his stomach, lying between your thighs. You’re fascinated by his assurance in himself. He takes the right position between your legs. You spread out to give him easier access and he gives you a silent look of thanks. His breath is warm as it fans your cunt.

Before you get a chance to breathe, Razor sticks his tongue and licks. It’s animalistic with no real finesse at all. He makes up for it with enthusiasm and some conclusions he’s drawn with your assistance. He sucks on your clit nearly feverish, takes it into his mouth like he did your tits minutes prior. It’s drooly and sticky and nasty in a way that makes you ashamed. You’re more ashamed because you like it, you love it really. Spit is running down, dripping down to your ass. It’s a loud slurp - a shameless, nasty hunger in how he licks up your arousal with his mouth and drenches your pussy with spit.

His groans reverberate into you. He likes what he’s doing. The sound and touch and taste - Razor overwhelms you with all of it. There’s a tangible intensity wrapping up around you, keeping you trapped in the wolf's den.

You don’t teach him to use his fingers. He seems to have figured it out. The pad of his middle finger draws the spit pooling along your seam before pushing itself into your tight hole. You gasp at how invasive it is at first. Razors fingers are thick and scarred and you can feel the ridges of your raised skin from healed injured when he fucks you open with them.

It feels good. Being wanted. Being consumed voraciously and openly without any care for shame. Razor is the embodiment of raw desire and all of it- every ounce of it is being used to devour you. The descendant of wolves, the son of the forest - laid between your thighs and eating like something delicious left at an abandoned altar.

Even clumsy, you’re turned on beyond reason. Arousal leaves you shakily pawing at him to slow down. Your voice is reduced to nothing but small whines and mewls - pleas to slow down that fall on deaf ears.

“Razor,” Your voice is clipped “Razor, please - it’s enough. Just.”

When he snaps out of his haze, his chin is soaked with arousal and spit. He wipes it with the back of his hand, looking at you.

“Tastes good. You taste nice.” He praises, heaving and out of breath.

Your stomach flares up with new found lust, hands covering your face.

“Archons, just. Come here.”

Razor climbs up on top of you again. You cup his face and kiss him hard, tasting yourself on him.

“You’re so unfair. But I can’t get angry because you’re not even doing it on purpose.”

“Sorry,”

You shake your head, kissing the corner of his mouth. Trembling with need.

“It’s fine, it’s fine. I want you inside. Want you to fill me in here, so bad, Razor.”

His eyes widen. Your desperation must reach him this time, because he nods. innocently. You’re thankful beyond words you’re on contraceptives. At this point, you think trying to use a condom would break you down.

“You just have to put it inside. But please go slowly, okay?”

“Go slowly…won’t hurt you.”

Razor sits up on his knees again, drawing your waist down towards him. Before he pushes into you, he lays his cock against your sex - pushing it between messy folds. His expression morphs, his jaw tensing as the head of his cock swells and throbs against your aching clit. It slides and slips so messily, pussy clinging to his hard length. You guide his cock towards your entrance while he leans forward over you. His palms are rough as they grab your hips, hands settling up under your knees.

You can feel his cock as he rolls his hips slowly. Your nails dig into his back, indenting the skin as you cry out. It’s thick, intrusive as he pushes into your tight little hole. Even after opening you up, there’s an ache inside as the head stretches your pussy open. The raw drag of skin on skin as Razor pushes inside of you. You can feel him with every movement, your legs wrapped around his waist tight.

Razor has always had a limited vocabulary. He likes to speak in short sentences since it’s what he does best. His speech now is a lot more developed, but he still finds it troublesome.

It stuns you when Razor's grip tightens and he swears under his breath - a single word, long and drawn out as his cock pushes into you deeply.

“Fuck,”

“R-razor?”

“Feels good…feels so good. Want…move. Please.”

“You can move, just let me hold onto you okay?”

Razor tucks his head against your neck before he fucks you. In one smooth motion, he pulls himself out completely before shoving himself back in. It’s as gentle as he can go, but you can practically feel him shaking above you. How his whole being urged him to fuck you llike an animal. The desperation rolls off of him in waves, his own hands gripping tighter as he slowly finds a rhythm to fuck you in. Clumsy thrust that turns into careful calculated ones as you urge him to go deeper.

“Deep,” Razor pants against your neck, his breath tickling your skin. His voice is a low growl as his hips snap up to meet the back of your thighs with each thrust. Your bed creaks each time he moves, the frame knocking against the wood “I’m deep inside you,”

“Razor,” You sneak a hand between your bodies, clumsily toying with your clit - pleasure ruining your every thought “Harder. Give it to me harder.”

As soon as the words leave your mouth, Razor gives up on trying to hold himself back. He fucks you with nearly reckless abandon, an impressive amount of strength and weight behind each thrust. His dick pushes in and out of you hard and fast in the most unromantic way. You can feel it all the way up to your throat. It makes the back of legs and and your lower half feel tingly. Your head is blank, nothing but spotted white in your vision. You blink them open to look at Razors face.

He’s biting at his lower lip hard, focusing all of himself on his thrusts. He’s enduring it well. Your insides clench, a fluttery sensation starting to build up between your legs. You can feel it in your belly, the knot starting to untie.

Razor is starting to feel it too him.

“Inside so, ngh - hot. S-something coming, going to—”

“A little more. Gonna cum soon, Razor. Feels so good, you make me feel so good.”

Your mindless praise makes him whimper. A soft noise that echoes through you. You repeat it over and over, in a high voice like you’d praise a puppy. Razor takes it in beautifully, trying so hard not to succumb to his own desires. He restrains despite how hard and how fast and how deep he’s fucking you. You know it’s not easy.

“I’m gonna c-cum, Razor,” You say, at the very edge “Cum with me. It’s okay, you can let it out.”

You cum hard. Harder than you think you ever have in your life, then you’ve ever been able to manage by yourself. The sensation hits all at once, like falling through the sky, you can feel the clouds pushed away by the weight of you coming down through. Your insides tighten and tense one last time before everything releases at once, and waves of the aftershock leave your pussy fluttering. You’re washed with pure euphoria, crying out Razor’s name as you cum.

Razor is quick to follow you. Your own orgasm seems to drive him over the edge, and he cums deep inside. He muffles his cry by biting into your shoulder, groaning as hot seed spills into your cunt with a harsh stutter of hips. He fucks into your pussy, soft and messy before bottoming out and nearly collapsing on top of you.

It takes you a long minute to catch your breath well enough to speak.

You rub Razors back soothingly before you do. He lifts his head, eyes heavy as he looks at you.

“Wow,” He says, eyes wide and blown out. You can’t help but break out into a fight of laughter “Love you…”

“I love you too, Razor.”

“Wanna do it again,” Razor says, looking at you seriously “Can I?”

You feel a pulse of warmth through your whole body before nodding.

“Uhm. Yes. Just give me a break first, okay?”

#razor x reader #gensnhin impact x reader #razor smut #genshin impact smut #writing tag #posts this then disappears forever

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fayes-fics · 1 year ago

Text

When The World Is Free: Chapter 8 - Je N'en Connais Pas La Fin

MASTERPOST PREV | NEXT

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, WW2 AU.

Warnings: tiny dash of spice… making out, hands wandering. Light angst, emotions, late-night confessions.

Word Count: 2.3k

Author’s Note: Multi-chapter fic based on a request by the lovely @amillcitygirl. Please see the masterpost for a synopsis of this story. Please don't be mad at me about this - I could not go with the cliche of wedding night. These idiots just need one more night to get their sh*t together. Sorry, and yes, as penance, Chapter 9 will be posted very soon. Thanks to @colettebronte for beta reading. Enjoy!

Montivilliers (just outside Le Havre), September 1939

A nervous energy ripples through your limbs as the four others leave, traipsing across the garden to the neighbouring cottage, leaving you and your new husband alone. Still waving awkwardly from the patio as they all disappear from view. A chill passes through you, just noticing how cold the night air is, autumn drawing in and without the warmth of Benedict holding you in some way, as he has been the past few hours. You startle slightly as he interrupts your reverie by chivalrously wrapping the faux fur stole around your shoulders.

“It’s my something borrowed,” you blurt, unsure what else to say.

“Eloise?”

You just nod, too nervous all of a sudden to look up at him.

“Let’s get inside,” he suggests, observing even the extra layer does not halt your shiver, gesturing to the kitchen door.

You walk awkwardly past, catching a whiff of his delicious scent that you woke up to this morning, the involuntary urge to sway into him intense.

You drift to the living room, Benedict wandering to the gramophone, putting on a mellow jazz record before taking a seat; part of you sad he chooses the armchair, not the sofa beside you.

“Well… that was a day,” he understates in his usual affable manner.

“I don’t know how I can ever thank you,” you respond earnestly, looking down at the simple band on your finger by reflex. “It’s all thanks to you that I have a chance to escape while I still can.”

“You would have done the same for me,” he demures with a quiet certainty that makes you yearn to touch him.

Instead, you exchange slightly awkward smiles, the mantlepiece clock ticking sounding so loud, even with the music playing.

“And I'm sure you will get home one day,” he assures. “Your family, I'm certain, miss you… and... And your fiancee,” the reluctance in his words evident.

“I’m not sure a married woman can have a fiancé anymore,” you remark; the lash of guilt every time Stanley’s name is invoked lessening with every moment you spend alone with Benedict.

“You can once you are a single woman again, as soon as you are safe,” he counters softly, so altruistic in his manner your throat almost itching with unspent words—a want to yell. No! Fight for me! I want you more than I ever will want him!!

“You yourself said on the train that perhaps there is something better out there for me,” you respond cautiously. “The longer this adventure runs, the more certain I am of that.”

His mien is profound as you finally raise your eyes to his, wanting so much to say more but feeling too tongue-tied and cowardly to be that selfish, to declare he is what you want.

He shakes himself a little and leans back into the armchair as if resetting himself and the line of conversation. Like he senses the mutual danger lurking there.

“Tomorrow, when we sail… they will likely notice the date on our marriage certificate,” Benedict counsels gently. “That may raise flags about the authenticity of our union.”

“What can we do to assuage them?”

“Come up with a plausible story. Be physically affectionate. They may ask no questions, or they may ask as many as they wish,” he warns, “especially of you. They may ask you about…” Benedict pauses, his face flushing a little, “… intimate matters. They have every right to ask if the marriage has been consummated.”

You feel yourself flashing hot as he says it. “I should lie?” you whisper.

“You should say whatever you think will make them believe we are a real couple,” he obfuscates.

“I’m a terrible liar…” you confess, blushing when you realise your words could be interpreted as an invitation to be intimate. And on this, your wedding night.

His gaze is heavy. “You can do it y/n. Your freedom and safety may depend on your ability to convince them you love me... And I you.”

I think I might, your mind screams.

“I know… I… think I can do it,” you falter, replaying every kiss you have shared. “We seem to have done a great job convincing Jerome and Marie…”

“They are not looking to see artifice,” he counters. “British soldiers will be.”

“Sh… should we practice?” It’s out of your mouth before you can stop it, champagne again taking your tongue, a deep flush spreading over your skin as you realise it.

“Y… yes, I think maybe we should,” he agrees very quickly.

He stands somewhat awkward, peeling off his jacket and rolling up his shirt sleeves, leaving his waistcoat. You find yourself again mesmerised by him, as you were that night in Paris, wanting to run your hands over the flex in his arm muscles. In fact, you are so distracted you don’t even realise he is proffering you a hand out of the chair. You spring up to your feet without his help, the idea of touching him right now entirely too distracting, which seems to amuse him briefly before his expression turns sincere.

“We have kissed, but not as lovers, as married people would. We... we may need to do so, casually, of course, within sight of those allowing boarding,” he opines, even as your heart speeds up, realising what he is saying.

“You think we need to… practice more kissing? Now?” you are mildly annoyed by how stupefied you sound.

“Yes,” he confirms, drawing closer, “passionate, real kissing.”

You are looking up into blue eyes and a gorgeous face as fingertips loop around your wrist as if checking your pulse.

“Grab my wrist if you want me to stop,” he tutors softly, so gentlemanly in his approach, even as you fret that he can feel your heart rate hammering hard in your veins.

Once again, time is in slow motion as his lips descend. At first, the kiss is breathtaking but still chaste, like previously. But then there is a noise in the back of his throat that makes the hairs on the nape of your neck stand on end; his lips part yours, a wave of damp heat as the kiss deepens. His tongue swipes yours tentatively, a tease before you mirror his moves. He tastes of champagne and something else that is entirely him, an impulse to bite the inside of his cheek. And then it’s abruptly fervent, wanton - like a dam has broken - his hands gripping the crest of your hip bones, each finger an insistent dig into your flesh.

Finally, given the permission, you don't hold back. Pushing into him, one hand grasping the buckled loop at the back of his waistcoat that cinches it to his slim form, the other winding around his sturdy neck, encouraging him to lean down further, take from you. The kiss seems never-ending, a rolling wave of to and fro, a dance not unlike the one in the square just last night. Those fireworks still explode, but this time, it feels like those ones that are so powerful they knock a punch to your solar plexus, a ricochet you feel physically,

His hands slide up your back, a sensual drag that makes you moan into his mouth, a noise he greedily swallows. But he stops as they reach the faux fur wrapped around your shoulders and reluctantly breaks the kiss.

“Please, take this off,” he implores, “I cannot do this with you wearing my sister's clothing,” he points out with a cringe that creases his face charmingly.

Your responding giggle causes him to break into a lopsided grin, and wordlessly, you untie it as he watches, pupils blown. When you push it back off your shoulders, it hits the rug behind you with a soft whump, and your instinct takes over, rocking onto your tiptoes, one hand sliding into the lush hair at the back of his head and bringing his face back to yours.

The minute your mouth opens to his, you are heavy and weightless all at once, not unlike that wooden roller coaster on Coney Island that made you see stars. Your nails flex on his scalp as his hands slide over your dress, looping low around your hips, tugging you snugly into his body as your tongues tangle.

This.

This must be what the girls whisper about—a tart metallic boiling in your blood, a heavy tug deep inside your pelvis that needs relief. A wanting so physical it almost hurts, a hunger that makes you feel reckless, liable to behaviour you could never justify, a pure carnal caprice. But all too soon, he is pulling back, a need to breathe, even as he does so inches from your face, his eyes locked on yours as they flutter open.

“Again,” you murmur, uncaring how gossamer thin your excuse is, just wanting more.

His eyes are glittering as he complies. Kissing like a wild storm now, hands hot through the thin, cool silk fabric. And you cannot stop the noises you make, shameless and breathy, right into his open, wet, questing mouth. Pressing hard against his body, a solid warmth in his trousers promising things you need so badly you crave to curl around him, open yourself to him.

You have never felt this before. A tingle under your scalp that vibrates all the way down to your toes. A want to take and be taken. To bite and be bitten. To ride and be ridden. For him to rip your dress from your body and throw you onto the sofa—a yen that feels not entirely human and definitely not civilised.

It's like he senses your thoughts have slid somewhere wild, or perhaps his have too, as when he pulls back, he is panting, and there is a quaking in his entire being like he is crackling with energy.

“Please. Go.” His voice is ragged, deep, almost wrecked. “Please. I… I can’t do this anymore,” his voice cracks a look that is at once hungry, aching, and barely contained restraint.

Please don't be a gentleman now, Benedict. Please. No. God. Not now. Don’t.

“I’m s…sorry,” you stutter, feeling guilty you have pushed it too far but utterly unmoored by the searing passion and the sting of his rejection, albeit reluctant.

Even you can see the war in his being, physical desire being muzzled by the gentleman he was clearly raised to be. Knowing if you stand here much longer, something will happen that one or both of you will regret. Your wedding ring seems to burn your skin as you turn around and shrink away, leaving the room, not daring to look back, knowing he has also turned away with ragged breaths.

As you climb the stairs, feet feeling leaden, your body in utter turmoil, you hear the discordant scratch of the gramophone being halted. You undress in a daze, swearing you can still feel the heat of his handprints through the silk of your dress. Climbing into the bed approaching numb, champagne swirling unease in your gut with all the rich foods, an oily disquiet that means it takes ages to settle.

You lay there fitfully for what feels like hours, tossing and turning, picking over the minutiae of every moment with Benedict - tonight and all the nights and days before. Seeing possible signs that make your heart clench.

Could it be that he is not doing this all for show?

It's a seizing thought that catalyses your body: it has you up on your feet and rushing down the stairs in your nightgown, breathless and stumbling. But when you round the corner into the living room, all your courage to declare it is sapped by the sight of Benedict sleeping, curled slightly, looking smaller somehow, his back turned to you, face buried into the back cushion of the sofa.

Instead, you back away, padding to the kitchen to take a glass of water, hoping the hydration will stave off the worst of a hangover; the water is a relief to the tumultuous, racing feeling as you stand on the large slab of earthen tile gleaming in the moonlight, cold underfoot. You pour another glass for him without thought.

Tiptoeing back into the living room, careful not to wake him, you crouch beside him to leave the glass of water within easy sight and reach should he stir. But you find yourself unable to leave without saying something. The temptation to confess to his unconscious self is impossible to resist, the grip on your own glass so tight.

“I’ll never be able to repay you,” you murmur to his back, fingers itching to trace over the bare skin of his shoulder blades where they peak out of the blanket. “For this unbelievable act of kindness and generosity. And yet… god, this is so selfish,” you flick your eyes up to the ceiling to stem a tear you feel gathering, “… still I’m greedy. Always wanting more. Wanting…. Wanting to never return to my old life. Wanting to run away. Wanting this… Wanting this to be real.”

The last phrase is barely audible, but still, you are instantly horrified that you confessed it out loud, even to his unconscious, sleeping frame. And you know you must leave.

God, what is wrong with me? What is this? Temporary insanity? Too much alcohol, a fake wedding and an impending war are not a good recipe…

It’s a silent internal lament as you stand up and withdraw, self-chastisement echoing so loud in your head. And yet, you can't resist a parting sentence from the doorway.

“Goodnight, Benedict, you are truly the very best of men...”

—

What you don’t see as you slowly climb back up the creaking wooden stairs is Benedict’s eyes blazing open, a look of utter astonishment claiming his face as he twists around and stares at the doorway you left by, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

He was never asleep.

And he heard every single word.

Benedict taglist: @foreverlonginguniverse @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @truly-dionysus @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @m-rae23 @last-sheep @kmc1989 @desert-fern @starkeylover @corpseoftrees-queen @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @how-many-stars-in-the-sky @amygdtjhddzvb @sya-skies @balladynaaa

#benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton fluff #benedict bridgerton angst #benedict bridgerton imagine #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton #bridgerton fluff #bridgerton angst #bridgerton imagine #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x female reader #benedict bridgerton x you #benedict bridgerton x y/n #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x female reader #bridgerton x you #bridgerton x y/n

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yeseve · 5 months ago

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Mars Synastry in the Houses

Mars in the 9th house overlay: I want to explore you. I want to learn with you.

There’s a certain devotion that the Mars person feels toward the 9th house person, a need to understand their thoughts and ways, a desire to experience them on a deeper level. The Mars person looks at the 9th house person as if they’ve never met anyone so fascinating before. It's like an irresistible pull, urging them to explore the possibilities the house person opens up. Unlike the Moon or Venus in the 9th house, where admiration can lead to placing the house person on a romantic pedestal, hesitating out of a feeling of being out of their league, Mars here takes a more direct approach, there’s action, like playful teasing or spontaneous invitations. Whether through philosophical discussions or lighthearted fun, the exchange of knowledge and experiences is constant between them. Mars breathes new life into the house person, pulling them out of their comfort zone and pushing them to explore the world. In return, the house person embodies a carefree and alluring energy that captivates Mars. The 9th house is often linked to the idea of a second marriage, representing the start of a new chapter, romance here is free-spirited and full of adventure. In platonic situations, these two could be great friends for a while, drift apart, and then reconnect years later, as if the distance only strengthened their bond.

"We’re all a little weird, and life’s a little weird. And when we find someone whose weirdness is compatible with ours, we join up with them and fall into mutually satisfying weirdness—and call it love—true love." – Robert Fulghum

youtube

Note: Synastry can vary significantly depending on the zodiac sign and its aspects. For a more in-depth analysis of a specific placement, you can either ask me or explore the option of a full synastry reading that I offer.

#synastry #mars in 9th house #mars synastry #astrology #synastry overlays #mars synastry overlay #mars in houses #Youtube

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some0newithapen · 2 months ago

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2024 is almost over, so it’s time for an art summary! Some of the pieces featured in this summary I haven’t posted on this blog, but I wanted to have something for every month instead of just the ones when I started posting here. I hope I improved!

I decided to make my own template since I was having trouble finding one that I liked lol

This year was stressful in the beginning, if I’m being honest. However, it got a lot better towards the end (though it’s still been a bit of a struggle sometimes, but that’s life). I made new friends, learned new things about myself I didn’t know before, and joined the wacky world of Tumblr. Everyone here has been so kind and supportive, and I am especially grateful for my mutuals (yall are amazing ok??).

Okay now I’m gonna put some New Years Resolutions I have for my art:

1. Finish the script for Chapter 1 of Adventure of A Lifetime and begin posting the actual comic.

2. Focus on stopmotion and 2d animation more

3. Post more finished works than sketches

4. Work on structure, perspective, and enviroments

5. Use more references (I have a bad habit of not using references and jumping straight into drawing)

Post more OC lore and original art

Also since this my new pinned post I’m gonna put my tags:

#my art - My art! Yay!!

#aoalt - Anything related to my comic Adventure of a Lifetime! Characters from said comic will have tags like #bender aoalt

#swapoc - Other OCs not related to Aoalt, characters will have tags like #oc flick

#reblog - Reblogs

#friend’s art! - Reblogged art made by my mutuals!

#queue jumpscare - queued posts of any kind! sometimes I can’t even remember I made them..

#swaptext - text posts, updates, and also comments I might leave on reblogs that aren’t in the tags!

#insp - anything I think looks cool and I want to save for later

#prayer request - prayer requests either from me or that are reblogged from other people

#important - usually used for more serious topics

This blog is SFW for the most part, but I may post some more triggering stuff every now and then (gore, abuse, nudity, etc). I will put trigger warnings on these posts. I encourage you to curate your own experience and censor certain tags and stuff like that if something makes you uncomfortable :D

And that’s it! Happy New Year everyone! I hope you all have an amazing year <3

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writingsoftarnishedsilver · 4 months ago

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A Muggle Halloween | Sebastian Sallow

Summary:

Sebastian joins you for a Muggle celebration in your hometown, experiencing festive stalls, a corn maze, and a haunted house that brings you closer with every scare.

Words: 7,469

Tags: Happy Halloween, Corn maze, Haunted Houses, Fluff, First Kiss, Short One Shot, Mutual Pining

Link to AO3

Sebastian could hardly believe he was here, standing in the heart of a Muggle village in the thick of autumn, surrounded by carved pumpkins, fake cobwebs, and lanterns shaped like skulls. The crisp evening air carried a hint of woodsmoke and fallen leaves, swirling around him in a way that felt strangely magical, even without the slightest touch of a spell. He could hardly imagine the world you’d grown up in, so different from the enchanted castles and ancient corridors of Hogwarts. And as he glanced over at you, animatedly pointing out the quirky details of the small town square, he felt something catch in his chest. You’d known each other two years now, yet he’d never seen you quite like this.

You had invited your friends here for what you called “the real Halloween experience,” insisting that nothing compared to a Muggle Halloween. He hadn’t known quite what to expect—jack-o’-lanterns, “haunted” houses with actors instead of ghosts—but he knew one thing for certain: he couldn’t pass up the chance to see you in your element, surrounded by the memories of your past, or the chance to spend the evening by your side.

Despite your familiarity with the Muggle world, you rarely spoke of your life outside Hogwarts. It was as though your hometown existed in its own quiet bubble, one he’d never thought he’d see, and you’d never before invited anyone into. He was oddly touched that you had chosen to share it, bringing him and your friends into a part of yourself that felt, to him, deeply personal. Hogwarts might have been where you became friends, but here, he got a glimpse of where you’d come from—the little shops you’d grown up around, the flickering streetlamps, the stalls that sold candy apples and spiced cider.

As he followed along, hands in his pockets, he found himself constantly watching you out of the corner of his eye. The way you pointed out every detail, laughed with your friends’, and relayed stories of the Halloweens you’d spent here made him feel strangely entranced. It had been two years since you met, and in that time, something had shifted between you. What had started as friendship had quietly grown, filling his thoughts more than he’d like to admit. Standing here now, watching you beam with excitement, he knew he was in far too deep.

You looked up at him, your eyes bright and expectant, pulling him from his thoughts. “Come on, we have to try the corn maze! They say it’s impossible to get through it in under ten minutes,” you announced, a determined grin tugging at your lips.

He shook his head with a laugh. “You sure about that?” he teased, following you as you led the way toward the towering walls of corn that rustled ominously in the evening breeze.

As the group approached the corn maze, a winding structure of tall, rustling stalks that seemed to stretch endlessly into the sky, Garreth’s eyes lit up with mischief. “Alright, listen up,” he said, rubbing his hands together with a wicked grin. “Let’s make this interesting. We’ll split up into pairs and see who can make it out of the maze first. Winner gets a round of cider on the losers!”

Natty laughed, always up for a bit of friendly competition, and immediately teamed up with Ominis, who looked faintly amused by the whole ordeal. Poppy raised an eyebrow and nudged Garreth, who was more than happy to accept her as a partner. And that left you and Sebastian. He felt his pulse quicken as you looked over at him, giving a small shrug and a smile as though to say, they're going to regret letting us team up.

He could only grin, feeling a familiar thrill at the thought of another adventure with you.

The group gathered at the entrance of the maze, a sprawling, dimly lit labyrinth that seemed far more intimidating up close. Shadows played tricks on the eye, and every gust of wind made the towering corn shiver and sway, as if alive. It was the perfect mix of eerie and exciting.

"Now," Poppy said, narrowing her eyes at Ominis. "No cheating." She gestured to his cane, where his wand was expertly concealed to help him navigate. Ominis rolled his eyes, looking faintly indignant.

“Please, Poppy,” he drawled, "If anyone here was going to cheat, it'd be Sebastian or Garreth."

Sebastian laughed, giving Ominis a playful shove. “Oi! As if I’d need to cheat to beat you lot. You’re talking to the undefeated champion of Hogwarts’ hedge mazes here.”

You scoffed, nudging him with your shoulder. “When have you ever gone into a hedge maze?"

Sebastian smirked, shrugging nonchalantly. “Details, details,” he replied. “Look all I'm saying is hedge maze, corn maze—it’s all about intuition. You’re in good hands.”

You rolled your eyes, clearly amused, and gave him a playful shove toward the maze entrance. “We’ll see just how reliable your ‘intuition’ is, then.”

The group chuckled, gathering their confidence before disappearing into the towering walls of corn, the whispers and laughter of your friends fading into the night as each pair went their separate way. As Sebastian glanced at you, the remaining lantern light caught in your eyes, and he felt that spark of excitement surge through him again. It was ridiculous, he knew—two years as friends, fighting side by side through some of the toughest challenges at Hogwarts, and yet here he was, heart pounding because he was about to walk through a Muggle corn maze with you.

“Alright, Sallow,” you said with a smirk, stepping into the maze and tugging him along by the wrist, your hand cool against his. “Don’t make me regret this.”

“Perish the thought,” he replied, falling into step beside you. The maze felt endless once inside, with the corn stalks towering on all sides, walls of dark green and gold rustling in the chilly evening breeze. Every so often, he caught sight of a shadow moving in the corner of his eye—just the wind or an errant leaf, but enough to make his pulse skip.

You took the lead, navigating the twists and turns with confidence—at least at first. The paths seemed straightforward, but soon enough, the maze’s true nature revealed itself. Each turn led to another fork in the path, each dead end winding back in an unpredictable way, leaving you second-guessing your choices.

After a few minutes of zigzagging with no clear end in sight, you paused, squinting down one path, then the next, the air now filled with the faint sounds of distant laughter from some other pair within the maze.

“Still confident?” Sebastian asked, leaning against a corn stalk with a grin.

“Perfectly,” you replied, a little too quickly, glancing around with narrowed eyes. “I’m just… recalculating.”

He chuckled, hands in his pockets as he watched you study the paths, your brow furrowed in thought. “Right. Well I’m impressed by your strategy,” he teased. “Wandering aimlessly seems like a reliable plan.”

You gave him a mock glare but then sighed, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. “Fine, maze expert. Lead the way, then. Let’s see your ‘intuition’ in action.”

With an exaggerated bow, he stepped in front, feigning confidence as he picked a path at random. “Gladly,” he said, striding forward. But only a few steps down, the path twisted and took another sharp turn, leading them further into the seemingly endless labyrinth. He could feel your amusement radiating as you followed, and after yet another turn that led nowhere, he came to a stop.

“Merlin's beard,” he muttered, scratching his head as he peered back over his shoulder at you, only to find you grinning. “Right, maybe not as easy as I thought.”

You burst into laughter, the sound warm and unrestrained, filling the chilly air. “So much for Hogwarts’ undefeated maze champion.”

“Oh, you think this is funny?” he replied, rolling his eyes, though he couldn’t help the grin that tugged at his lips. The two of you turned another corner, and suddenly, a crow darted out of the corn with a loud caw. You gasped, jumping slightly and grabbing onto his arm on instinct.

Sebastian looked down at your hand on his arm, his heartbeat quickening as you realized what you’d done. “What's this? Hogwarts savior is scared of crows?” he murmured, unable to keep the smile out of his voice.

You quickly withdrew your hand, cheeks flushed in the dim light. “It was startling, alright?” you said, trying to brush it off, though your eyes sparkled with amusement. “And here you are, Hogwarts’ so-called ‘maze champion,’ leading us in circles.”

Sebastian chuckled, shaking his head as you continued down the path with him at your side, neither of you entirely sure where you were headed anymore. The maze was proving more difficult than expected, but he found he didn’t mind the detours one bit. In fact, the longer they wandered, the more he was grateful for each turn that kept him here with you, surrounded by the faint glow of lanterns and the rustling, whispered secrets of the corn.

He watched you study each pathway with narrowed eyes, determined to outwit the maze, and felt a surge of fondness that surprised him with its intensity. It was almost ridiculous, he thought. He’d been by your side in duels and countless challenges at Hogwarts, had faced dangers with you that he’d never even dreamt of, and yet here, in the middle of this Muggle maze, his heart raced like he was some first-year caught sneaking out after curfew.

Sebastian shrugged, leaning close enough to catch the faint scent of autumn leaves on your scarf. “You know, if we’re hopelessly lost, we could always… just stay here,” he said, tone teasing but with a flicker of something else he hoped you didn’t catch.

You raised an eyebrow, smiling as you tilted your head to study him. “In the middle of a corn maze?"

"There are worse places the spend the night," Sebastian grinned, putting on an air of innocence.

You laughed, a sound that sent a strange warmth through him, and shook your head. “Somehow, I doubt Garreth or Ominis would ever let us hear the end of it if we didn't make it out. Besides, losers have to buy cider, remember?”

“Right,” he said, watching you as you turned back to the maze, your expression determined as you scouted out the next path. “Priorities.”

Finally, after a few more twists and wrong turns—and a few more light-hearted scares—the two of you emerged from the maze, greeted by the victorious laughter of your friends who had made it out first.

“About time!” Garreth called, holding a cup of cider out triumphantly. “What took you two so long?”

Sebastian raised an eyebrow, casually folding his arms as he replied, “Oh, you know… taking in the sights, enjoying the atmosphere.”

“Must have been a very… scenic route.” Poppy chimed in, her grin mischievous.

Sebastian caught the amused glances exchanged between your friends and gave them a warning look, though he couldn’t help but feel a certain thrill that they’d noticed his lingering attention. They’d all known each other long enough to notice the subtle shifts, the glances he thought went unnoticed, the way he found himself leaning toward you without even thinking about it.

After the maze, the group made their way toward the food stalls, where the mingling scents of warm cider, caramel, and roasted nuts filled the air. Festive lights strung overhead cast a cozy glow over the whole scene, illuminating the crowd of families, groups of friends, and children in costumes. It felt like stepping into a different world—one that was foreign yet warm and familiar, as though somehow, Sebastian had always belonged here, too.

“Alright, let’s get those ciders,” Sebastian said, glancing over at the busy stall.

“Alright, Sallow,” you said, waving a small stack of Muggle bills in his direction with a smile. “Try not to look too confused, but here’s a bit of cash."

He feigned offense, snatching the money from your hand with a wink. “I’ll have you know I’m a quick learner." he said, though he could feel a slight twinge of uncertainty about the intricacies of Muggle currency. He couldn’t admit it, of course, not with you watching him with that amused sparkle in your eye.

While he navigated the line, you joined Natty and Poppy at a stall that advertised caramel popcorn and candy apples. He glanced over at you, catching snippets of your laughter as you leaned close to Poppy, admiring a bag of sticky caramel-coated popcorn that glistened under the warm lights. The way you belonged here, seamlessly part of both worlds, made him feel strangely captivated. Here was a version of you that he hadn’t had the chance to know fully—one that belonged to this Muggle village, to cozy festivals and street lights strung up against the night sky.

He finally reached the front of the line and handed over the bills with a confident nod, hoping he hadn’t overspent or worse, handed over some comically wrong amount. The vendor took the money without a second glance, pouring six steaming cups of cider. Sebastian carried the drinks back to the group, keeping his cool but inwardly satisfied at having navigated the Muggle purchase without a hitch.

“Drinks are served,” he announced, handing a cup to each of his friends, finally passing one to you with a grin. “Not bad for my first Muggle transaction, if I do say so myself.”

You took the cup with a smile, your eyes meeting his for a moment. “Yes, well done, Sebastian.” You brought the cup to your lips, taking a sip and closing your eyes as you savored the warmth of the cider against the chill of the evening.

Natty took a sip from her own cup, nodding appreciatively. "Delicious. If Muggles know how to do anything right, it's food."

The group sipped their ciders, savoring the warmth that contrasted with the chill of the autumn evening. The fair’s cozy ambiance seemed to glow even brighter as laughter drifted from families and friends milling around the food stalls, making the whole place feel like a tiny, enchanted pocket of the world—even if no magic was involved.

“Alright, I’ll admit,” Garreth said, polishing off the last of his cider with a satisfied grin. “Muggle Halloween has its perks. But,” he added, his eyes darting eagerly toward the towering haunted house silhouetted against the night sky, “enough with the warm-up. Who’s ready for the main event?”

Natty straightened up, casting a playful glance at the building before looking at you, "You've certainly made it sound like something we shouldn't miss," she said, raising an eyebrow at you.

Poppy leaned in, her eyes bright with excitement. “Personally, I’m thrilled to see what Muggles consider terrifying.”

You laughed, feigning confidence as you finished the last sip of your cider. “Listen, Muggle haunted houses have their charms,” you replied, shrugging casually. “It’s not always about ghosts and curses. Sometimes, the unknown is more terrifying.”

Poppy raised an eyebrow, stifling a laugh. “The unknown? You’ve faced down acromantulas, duels with dark wizards, and a few well-placed tricks are what you’re warning us about?”

You huffed, giving a mock offended look, but your friends’ laughter was too contagious. “Alright, alright, you’ll all see. Just… remember this when you’re clinging to each other in there.”

Sebastian grinned, feeling a rush of anticipation as he looked up at the haunted house, which loomed taller and darker as they all approached. The once-cosy ambiance of the fair fell away, replaced by fog creeping along the ground and a flickering, ghostly glow that spilled from the house’s windows. Shadows seemed to dance along the walls, and the air grew colder, thick with the scent of damp wood and whispers of something mysterious waiting beyond the door.

The group lined up, and as they split back into pairs, Sebastian’s pulse kicked up when you naturally stepped beside him, your hand brushing his arm. Garreth and Poppy jostled each other, already egging on the imaginary “monsters” they assumed were waiting for them, while Natty linked her arm with Ominis, casting him a smile that clearly said she was ready to lead him through any challenge.

“Here we go,” Sebastian said, glancing at you as he took his place by your side. He noticed the slight tension in your shoulders, the way you were biting your lip as your gaze lingered on the darkened windows of the house.

“Still sure about this?” he asked quietly, leaning close.

You met his eyes, giving a small, nervous laugh. “I'm fine.”

Sebastian chuckled, feeling a surge of both amusement and protectiveness as he offered his arm. “Alright. Sure. Just… try not to scream too loudly if something jumps out. I’m not sure my eardrums can handle it.”

You rolled your eyes, but the grateful smile you gave him as you looped your arm through his made his chest feel a little warmer against the autumn chill.

With a theatrical creak, the door of the haunted house opened, revealing a dark hallway faintly lit by the flickering glow of candlelight. The figure in the tattered cloak reappeared, waving you both forward with an eerie smile. “Welcome, brave souls. Only the most courageous may proceed.”

Sebastian shot you a grin, giving a small, mocking bow as he stepped over the threshold. “Ladies first?”

You narrowed your eyes, smiling with a hint of defiance as you stepped inside, tugging him along with you. The heavy door shut behind you with a loud thud, sealing you both in darkness broken only by the occasional flicker of dim lanterns casting elongated shadows across the walls.

The silence was eerie, broken only by the creak of floorboards beneath your feet and the faint echo of distant laughter from somewhere deeper within the house. Each hallway was narrow and winding, filled with faint, unsettling sounds—a soft whisper here, a hollow laugh there. The atmosphere was thick with anticipation, and Sebastian couldn’t tell if the rapid beat of his heart was from the house’s foreboding energy or the feeling of you so close beside him, your arm linked with his.

He glanced over at you, catching the slight tremor in your hand where it gripped his arm. “I thought you said Muggle haunted houses were all tricks,” he murmured teasingly.

“They…are,” you replied, voice just above a whisper as your eyes scanned the dark hallway ahead. “But they’re effective tricks.”

As if on cue, a low, menacing growl sounded from the shadows just ahead, and the silhouette of a twisted figure slumped in a dark corner seemed to shift. You gasped, gripping his arm a little tighter, and he instinctively drew you closer, feeling a thrill of excitement as his heart raced.

“Nothing to worry about,” he whispered, his voice low and steady.

You gave a shaky laugh, looking up at him with a mixture of amusement and nerves. “I’ll remember you said that,” you murmured, not loosening your grip on his arm. “Just… don’t let go, alright?”

Sebastian smiled, feeling a warmth settle over him that had nothing to do with bravery or haunted houses. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

As you both continued down the narrow, dimly lit corridor, Sebastian could feel the slight tremor in your grip with each creak of the floorboards or shadowy figure looming in the corners. The haunted house was designed to be disorienting, but to him, it was mostly amusing—he could tell that every darkened corner and menacing silhouette was set up to startle but held no real danger. Yet, the thrill of it all heightened for him because he was here with you, seeing you uncharacteristically vulnerable in this dark, eerie setting.

A shiver ran through you as another ominous shadow shifted along the wall, and you clutched his arm a bit tighter. “It’s a lot creepier than I expected,” you muttered, glancing around nervously as if something might leap out at any moment.

Sebastian leaned closer, his voice a warm murmur in the chill of the haunted house. “Don’t worry—I’ve got you,” he said, his hand resting reassuringly over yours. “And I promise I won’t let any ‘terrifying Muggle ghouls’ carry you off.”

You shot him a sideways look, half playful, half wary. “Easy for you to say—you’re not the one about to jump out of your skin every five seconds.”

Sebastian chuckled softly, delighted by how unguarded you seemed in this moment. “I dunno, maybe I’m just braver than you,” he teased, giving you a small nudge.

But before you could retort, a loud, rattling scream burst from the darkness as a decrepit figure clad in tattered rags sprang forward, lunging directly at you both. You let out a screech, instinctively pulling closer to Sebastian, practically hiding against him as the figure cackled and retreated back into the shadows.

His hand settled against your back, his arm wrapped around you protectively as he tried to hold back a laugh. “Alright, I’ll admit, that was… startling,” he said, though he was clearly enjoying this a bit too much.

You managed a shaky laugh, still pressed close to his side. “Starting to regret bringing you here,” you muttered, but the hint of a smile on your face told him you didn’t really mean it.

The two of you continued further into the haunted house, Sebastian’s arm still around your shoulders as you both tried to steady your nerves—or rather, as you tried to steady yours while he savored every second. The hallway opened into a dark, grimly decorated room, lit only by a flickering red light. It was littered with bloodied, fake body parts strewn across the floor, knives embedded in the walls at odd angles, and smears of fake blood running down the wallpaper. A rusted chain hung from the ceiling, swaying as though recently disturbed, and the low hum of ominous music filled the air. It was grotesque, morbid, and incredibly eerie.

Your grip on Sebastian’s arm tightened as you took a step back. He glanced at you, noticing the look in your eyes—nervous, on edge. There was a hint of unease there that he didn’t often see. He wrapped his arm around you reassuringly, squeezing your shoulder just enough to let you know he was there.

“Alright, this is a bit much,” you whispered, keeping close to him as you moved forward, eyeing each fake limb as if it might come to life.

Sebastian grinned, thoroughly entertained. “I think it’s charming,” he whispered back, his voice tinged with amusement.

“Charming?” You rolled your eyes, clearly unconvinced. “If this is your idea of charming, I’m genuinely worried for you.”

As you moved further into the room, the shadows cast by the dim red lights made the fake bloodstains seem almost too real, and each prop seemed to blend seamlessly with the darkness. Your eyes darted around, clearly expecting another scare, and Sebastian could feel you pressing a little closer with each step, as if seeking a sense of safety in his proximity.

He bit back a smile, drawing you a bit closer as you passed under the rusty chain that dangled from the ceiling. “If it makes you feel any better, I’ll personally make sure you don't become any of these... dismembered body parts.”

Your laugh was soft, a little shaky, and it was then that he realized he rather enjoyed seeing this vulnerable side of you—a side that trusted him enough to lean on him when you felt unsure.

Just then, a blood-stained figure lurched from the shadows, wielding a butcher’s knife and letting out an ear-splitting scream. You let out a yelp, grabbing his arm tightly, hiding your face against his shoulder as the figure drew closer, its face twisted in a grotesque mask of horror.

Sebastian felt his heart race, more from your closeness than from the scare itself. He chuckled, though his voice softened, reassuring. “It’s alright,” he whispered, gently patting your back.

With your heart still pounding from the last scare, you let Sebastian guide you forward, though your grip on his arm was so tight he could feel your nails pressing through his jacket. As you stepped into the next room, the air grew colder, and the faint sound of eerie music filled the space, underscored by distant, hollow laughter.

This room was even darker, lit only by narrow beams of green light slicing through the blackness, casting long shadows along the walls. The theme had shifted again—from grotesque to unsettlingly surreal. Large, grotesque clown masks hung from the walls, each painted with a wicked smile and unnaturally large eyes that seemed to follow you with every step. Fog rolled across the floor, and the twisted circus music grew louder, echoing through the room as though played from an ancient record, warped and distorted.

You took a shaky breath, and Sebastian glanced at you with a smirk, clearly delighted by your unease. “Not a fan of clowns, then?” he whispered, teasing but gentle.

You shot him a wary look, your eyes darting back to the masks. “I’m… neutral on clowns,” you replied, though your voice betrayed a note of apprehension.

The two of you moved carefully through the room, your footsteps soft against the fog-covered floor. But as you neared the center, a loud pop echoed through the room, followed by a hiss of air, and a large, grinning clown figure shot up from a hidden compartment in the floor, its face a twisted caricature with a smile stretched too wide, painted teeth gleaming under the green light.

The sudden movement startled you so thoroughly that you let out a full, high-pitched scream, clutching Sebastian’s arm so tightly he was certain it would leave marks. He barely managed to hold back his laughter, biting his lip as he felt the tremor in your grip, and he instinctively pulled you close, his arm wrapping protectively around you as you buried your face against him.

Sebastian smiled, tucking you a little closer. “I’m starting to think maybe Muggles have mastered fear better than we give them credit for.”

You rolled your eyes, though the faintest smile tugged at your lips as you tried to recover. “It’s not fear,” you muttered defensively. “It’s… the element of surprise.”

“Of course,” he agreed, not missing a beat. “So, it’s the ‘element of surprise’ that has you clinging to me for dear life, then?”

You huffed, playfully shoving his shoulder but didn’t move away, which only made him grin wider.

The room ahead began to shift and twist, a series of mirrored walls creating a dizzying maze. Each turn distorted your reflections, some stretched tall, others twisted, making it difficult to tell which direction was real. Your reflection beside him morphed and twisted along with his, and for a moment, you both looked like something out of a nightmare—a warped vision of yourselves.

Sebastian chuckled, his voice low and reassuring as he led you forward. “Come on, one last room, then we’re done. You’re doing great.”

As you moved through the mirror maze, he caught his own reflection more than once, watching the way he looked at you—the protective stance, the slight smile, the way his eyes lingered a second longer than necessary. And when he looked down at you, your gaze flicking back to him with that mix of nervous excitement, he felt his heart race in a way that had nothing to do with the haunted house.

Finally, you reached the end of the mirrors and stepped out into the last room, a narrow corridor that was pitch-black except for a single red light at the far end, barely illuminating the exit. Just as you both breathed a sigh of relief, a final, spine-chilling scream echoed from above, and an animatronic ghoul dropped down from the ceiling, lunging forward as if reaching for you.

You shrieked, and he couldn’t hold back a laugh, wrapping his arms around you protectively. “Alright, that was a good one,” he admitted, still chuckling as the ghoul receded back into the ceiling.

As the two of you stumbled out into the open, relief and laughter mixed between you, the thrill of the last scare beginning to melt away into the chill of the autumn night. The fair’s lights blinked cheerfully nearby, casting a warm glow that felt worlds apart from the haunted house’s dark halls. Sebastian chuckled, enjoying the thrill of having come out unscathed—mostly—and more so, he savored the feeling of you leaning into him, clutching his arm every time a scare had taken you by surprise.

But just as you both started to unwind, a new sound broke through the night—the heavy pounding of footsteps across the porch behind you. The thud grew louder, and in a sudden blur of motion, an actor, wielding a massive fake axe, lunged from the shadows, letting out a guttural roar.

You let out a scream, instinctively launching yourself into Sebastian’s arms, completely overwhelmed by the surprise. He caught you, staggering back slightly as your arms wrapped around his shoulders, pulling yourself close. His heart leapt from the feel of you so near, holding onto him as though he was your only solid ground.

Your face was pressed into his neck, and he could feel your warm, ragged breath as you tried to catch it, heart racing against his. And for a moment, the world seemed to tilt, his own pulse hammering in response—not to the scare, but to this, to you, tucked close against him. His hand instinctively wrapped around your back, holding you there, while he tried to grapple with the sudden rush of emotion surging through him. He wasn’t prepared for the way this small moment would hit him. You were usually so steady, so unshakeable, but here you were, pressed against him, vulnerable and trusting, and it struck him with a force that left him breathless.

The actor let out a final, menacing laugh before breaking character with a grin, retreating back to the haunted house. The scare was over, the danger gone, yet Sebastian found himself unable to move, his arms still holding you as the door closed behind them.

Finally, you pulled back just slightly, lifting your gaze to meet his, your face flushed with both embarrassment and lingering adrenaline. “Sorry."

Sebastian blinked, still caught in the haze of the moment as you slowly pulled back. The world seemed to reorient itself around him, but his mind hadn’t yet caught up; the feel of you, warm and close, lingered in his senses. He wanted to say something clever, something that would break the tension, but his usual easy charm seemed to desert him. Instead, he was left with nothing but the stark awareness of you in his arms and the pounding realization of how deeply this moment had struck him.

"Sebastian?" Your voice, soft and uncertain, pulled him back to reality.

“Yes?” he murmured, voice softer than he intended.

You looked away, a soft, nervous laugh escaping your lips as you brushed a stray lock of hair behind your ear. “You um. You can put me down now."

Sebastian’s arms stayed around you, his fingers curling just slightly against the fabric of your coat as he lingered, a beat longer than necessary. The faintest hint of your scent, sweet and sharp like wild berries with a trace of something he couldn’t place, filled his senses, heady and intoxicating. He felt your warmth seeping into him, grounding him in a way he hadn’t expected. Every nerve seemed attuned to you, every inch of him reluctant to break this fragile connection.

You shifted slightly, and he became acutely aware of the softness of you in his arms, the way you fit so effortlessly against him. He swallowed, his mouth dry, a strange mixture of longing and tenderness settling in his chest.

“Right,” he murmured, shaking himself from the trance-like state. “Of course.”

When he finally set you back on your feet, his hand lingered at your waist, steadying you as if you might still need him. “Sorry,” he said, voice rougher than he intended, betraying the effect you’d had on him. “I just… wanted to make sure you were alright.”

You looked up at him, your cheeks flushed, but you didn’t step back. Instead, you gave him a small, almost shy smile that made his pulse quicken all over again. “I am,” you replied, and the warmth in your eyes, the way they held his for a heartbeat longer, left him completely undone.

You and Sebastian stood there, the sounds of the fair a soft backdrop to the rush of your shared heartbeat. Neither of you moved, both caught in the silent intensity of the moment. His hand still lingered at your waist, his thumb brushing against your coat in a light, absent-minded gesture. He wasn’t sure why he couldn’t bring himself to let go just yet, but something about this closeness made him feel more grounded than he had in a long time.

He opened his mouth, about to say something else—anything to keep this connection from slipping away—when suddenly, the door of the haunted house creaked open behind you both.

The muffled laughter of another couple spilled out as they stumbled into the cool night air, casting the two of you a curious look as they passed. Realizing you were standing there, nearly blocking the exit, you both shuffled aside, your faces warming as you exchanged a slightly embarrassed smile.

“Guess we should go find the others,” you said, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, the air between you now thick with the unspoken.

Sebastian nodded, releasing you at last, though his hand slid reluctantly from your waist. He shoved his hands in his pockets as you both headed away from the haunted house, glancing around the bustling fairgrounds. The warm glow of the festival lights wrapped around the small town square, casting a cozy ambiance that felt worlds apart from the haunted house’s dark corridors. Families, children in costumes, and couples wandered the stalls, but there was no sign of your friends.

You scanned the crowd, your eyes narrowing as you looked over the clusters of people enjoying the festivities. “They were here a minute ago,” you muttered, a slight crease forming on your brow.

“They probably ran off to grab more cider while we were… preoccupied,” Sebastian guessed, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips as he recalled the series of scares. He could still feel the ghost of your arms around him, your breath warm against his neck. It lingered in his mind, too vivid to ignore, like a spark that hadn’t yet faded.

You shot him a look, half-amused, half-playful. “It’s strange, though. I would have thought they’d wait for us." Your smile softened, and you glanced away, scanning the fairground again. ”

“Perhaps they’ve gone off to find some Muggle monstrosity that’s even scarier,” he teased, stepping beside you as you moved through the crowds, his shoulder brushing yours every so often.

After a few more minutes of scanning the stalls and dodging the occasional pumpkin-toting child, you turned to him with a sheepish smile. “Seems like we’re on our own. Maybe they’ve turned this into some sort of hide-and-seek challenge.”

Sebastian grinned, nodding as he glanced at a nearby stall draped with fairy lights, showcasing rows of candied apples, warm roasted chestnuts, and bags of sticky caramel popcorn. “Well, if we’re on our own, it only seems right to get some more snacks,” he suggested, leading the way to the vendor.

You both picked out a few treats, Sebastian grabbing a candied apple for himself and a bag of caramel popcorn to share with you. You laughed as you tried to delicately nibble on the sticky popcorn, your fingers quickly coated in caramel, and he watched, amused, feeling an inexplicable lightness in his chest.

As you strolled through the square, you spotted a small crowd gathering around a stage set up for street performers. Intrigued, you tugged Sebastian along to see what was happening. A Muggle magician in a velvet cloak was pulling one elaborate trick after another—cards vanished, flames sprang from his hands, and seemingly ordinary objects floated in mid-air before his audience’s delighted gasps. Sebastian watched in fascination, his eyebrows raised.

“Alright,” he murmured, leaning close so only you could hear. “I’ll admit, this is… impressive. No real magic involved, yet he’s making it look easy.” He watched the magician’s slight of hand, unable to stop a faint smile from spreading. “Maybe Muggles know a thing or two about magic after all.”

You grinned, nudging his arm. “Told you Muggle Halloween has its charms.”

He smirked. “Consider me convinced.” He glanced at you, realizing he was genuinely enjoying himself in this unfamiliar world—largely because you were here, sharing it with him.

When the performance finished, the crowd burst into applause, and you both clapped along before making your way back through the fairground. The streets had thinned out somewhat, and a quick glance at a clock on a nearby lamppost made you realize how late it was. The fair’s soft glow cast long shadows over the emptying streets, and the laughter of distant children faded into the background as the vendors started closing down their stalls.

Sebastian looked over at you with a wry smile. “Think the others are probably already back at the inn, don’t you?”

“Most likely,” you agreed, a slight yawn escaping you as you stretched. “It’s getting late.”

“Well, wouldn’t want to leave them wondering where we wandered off to,” he said, though he almost wished the night didn’t have to end. “Shall we?”

You nodded, and together, you strolled through the quiet streets, making your way back toward the inn. The warm light of the fair gradually dimmed behind you, the festival sounds giving way to the gentle hush of the autumn night. It was peaceful, walking beside him, the sound of crunching leaves underfoot and the crisp air tinged with the lingering scent of woodsmoke.

As you and Sebastian reached the inn, a comfortable silence had settled between you, each footstep marking the end of an evening he felt reluctant to let go of. The inn’s warm, golden light spilled onto the cobbled street as he held the door for you, and together, you made your way up the narrow staircase, the sound of your quiet laughter the only thing breaking the stillness of the night.

At the door to your room, Sebastian took a small step back, hands shoved into his pockets, fighting the lingering thrill of the evening. He had thought he’d be able to keep his feelings in check, but the events of the night—your laughter, your hand gripping his arm, the way you’d leaned into him after each scare—left his mind spinning. He swallowed, offering a casual smile to mask the nervous energy simmering beneath the surface.

“Well,” he began, a bit too quietly, “goodnight, then.”

But before he could turn to leave, you caught his eye and hesitated, the barest hint of something vulnerable crossing your expression. “Sebastian,” you murmured, voice soft, “would you… would you like to come inside for a bit?"

Surprise flashed across his face, but he quickly masked it, giving a small nod. “Sure. I’d like that,” he said, his voice steady but his heart racing faster than he cared to admit. He followed you inside, closing the door softly behind him.

The room was small, cozy, with a single bed and a little sitting area tucked by the window. A few stray books sat on the nightstand and your bag was draped over the back of a chair. You hung your jacket up on the back of the door, reaching for Sebastian's as he shrugged it off his shoulders.

Sebastian watched as you hung his jacket beside yours, his gaze lingering on your movements as he stepped further into the room. He stood by the small window, his hands shoved back into his pockets, glancing around with a casualness that felt forced. There was a beat of silence, each second stretching a little too long, the quiet only amplifying the tension building in the air. His mind raced, his thoughts jumping from one hopeful possibility to the next, until he forced himself to calm down, reminding himself not to read into things.

But then, you took a step closer to him, close enough that he could see the soft rise and fall of your breathing, close enough that he could feel a flicker of warmth between you in the small space. Sebastian felt his pulse kick up, his gaze locking on yours, searching your eyes for any sign, any indication of what you were thinking.

Your gaze lingered on him, uncertain but steady, like you were searching for something too. You bit your lip, and before he knew it, he’d reached up, gently brushing his thumb over your lips, almost on instinct. His touch lingered there, his heart pounding as he realized the distance between you had vanished.

What the hell was he doing?

He almost yanked his hand back, but then you smiled. A soft, warm smile that melted any hesitancy he’d been holding onto. Your eyes met his, and Sebastian could see the flicker of vulnerability in them, the same uncertainty that mirrored his own, as if you were both standing on the edge of something new and exhilarating.

He swallowed, his pulse roaring in his ears. “I… I didn’t mean to—” he started, but his words faltered when you lifted your hand to rest on his, keeping it in place against your lips.

“It’s okay. I… I don’t mind.” you whispered, voice barely above a breath, yet it sent a shiver through him.

"...you don't?"

His voice was barely a murmur, all bravado stripped away, leaving only a boy hopelessly captivated, standing inches away from everything he wanted but had never dared to hope for.

You shook your head, and a small, nervous laugh escaped you as you held his gaze, "Nope."

He swallowed, his gaze tracing your face as though memorizing every detail—the softness in your eyes, the slight curve of your smile. “I… I didn’t think…” he trailed off, a bit breathless, unable to finish his sentence. Instead, he let his hand gently slide from your lips to cup your face, thumb brushing over your cheek in a touch so light he worried it might break the spell.

You leaned into his hand, your eyes never leaving his, and the warmth of your skin under his touch was all the invitation he needed. Slowly, he leaned in, his heart thundering in his chest as he hesitated, waiting for any sign that he should stop. But you stayed close, and he closed the distance, pressing his lips to yours in a gentle, lingering kiss that held years of unspoken affection. He felt you respond, leaning into him in a way that sent his pulse racing, and he moved his hand to the small of your back, pulling you just a bit closer.

You were sweet, the taste of caramel lingering on your lips and the faintest hint of cider in the air around you. The kiss deepened, carrying the weight of all the times he’d held back, each stolen glance, each shared laugh, and every quiet moment he’d thought about you but hadn’t dared to say anything. His other hand found its way into your hair, his fingers weaving through the soft strands as he drew you closer.

When you finally pulled apart, breaths mingling in the small, cozy room, Sebastian’s forehead rested lightly against yours. He couldn’t help the quiet laugh that escaped him, the warmth of it filling the room. He still held you close, his thumb tracing idle circles against your back, and he felt the steady thrum of his heartbeat settle as he looked at you.

“You know,” he murmured, his voice soft, “I think this might just be my favorite Halloween yet.”

Your cheeks flushed as you looked up at him, fingers still gently resting against his chest. “I think I’d have to agree.”

Then you were leaning in to brush another gentle kiss to his lips, and he felt the last remnants of his restraint fall away, replaced by a quiet certainty that he was exactly where he was meant to be. Here with you, on this late autumn night, was a kind of magic that had nothing to do with spells or wands.

#sebastian sallow #fanfic #ao3 link #ao3 author #ao3 fanfic #fanfiction #archive of our own #hogwarts legacy fandom #fluff #x reader #x you fluff #x you #no y/n

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aesopsharpmybeloved · 1 year ago

Text

Tess' Sharpuary - 16. Blush

Aesop's two colleagues and oldest friends engage in their favourite activity - poking fun at the poor potions master.

chapter specific tags: friendship, teasingy established relationship, innuendos

relationships: aesop sharp & dinah hecat & abraham ronen, aesop sharp x reader

16. Blush (1.6k)

tw: suggestive themes suggested suggestively

The potions master sat down to eat his breakfast in the Great Hall. He had himself a very lovely weekend indeed, filled with romantic and erotic adventures with one very special seventh-year Ravenclaw. He had the amazing privilege to introduce her to the world of physical intimacy, and he felt fairly confident he did a good job at it, considering their mutual feeling of utmost exhaustion and contentedness by the time they disapparated from Wales back to the village of Hogsmeade. Their state of gratification was so strong in fact, they dared holding hands on their way back to the castle when they were certain nobody could see the two of them. There wasn't really anyone to see them, seeing as they entered the castle in the middle of supper time at the Great Hall.

The young woman followed him straight to his rooms, where they shared dinner brought to them by the Hogwarts house elves, and had the chance to try how Aesop’s bed compared to the one in his ‘aunt’s’ summer house. She slipped away under the Disillusionment charm in the morning, leaving Aesop with her sweet scent lingering upon his sheets and pillows. He couldn’t wait for her to finish Hogwarts frankly, couldn’t wait to be able to wake up next to her every morning, share breakfast on their own terms, and only then part for the day. Though this part will forever be done most reluctantly, Aesop supposed.

Still, as he walked into the Great Hall for breakfast that morning, he had to admit his spirits were higher than they were in a long time. Even his leg didn’t hurt as bad - he barely felt any pain in fact, and he only did when he was walking. Sitting or lying down, it felt almost as if he was never cursed at all. It was very strange, it hadn’t felt this painless since… Well, since before that horrible day at the end of January, so many years ago…

Shaking off his thoughts for the time being, he reached before himself to take hold of a toast, and actually whistled as he slowly spread orange marmalade over it. “Ah, there you are! Didn't notice you come back yesterday,” came Dinah’s voice from beside him as the DADA professor slid down into the chair next to his, her voice uncomfortably smug “though I suppose I wouldn’t have, you must’ve slipped into your chambers immediately, completely exhausted from all the physical strain.”

Aesop swallowed his bite, his eyes looking off into the distance unwilling to connect with those of his friend: “What exactly do you mean, Di?” “Why, you two spent the better part of almost three days walking around the woods, and I know how uneven surfaces can be a problem for you,” she explained inconspicuously, reaching out to add some scrambled eggs and grilled tomatoes into her plate. “Did you use protection?” she asked then, and Aesop very nearly choked on his food.

“What?!” he whisper-shouted, eyes wild. Still he wouldn’t look at the woman next to him, instead becoming very very interested in the wall opposite of him, his hand nearly crushing his toast. He knew that was she to look in his eyes, she’d know instantly. “I mean, I’ve never been particularly interested in Herbology, but I remember some of the plants you were meant to get are quite poisonous and require the use of gloves. Though, as I see no skin irritation, I suppose the question sort of answers itself, doesn’t it?”

Aesop didn’t grace her with an answer, and instead tried to eat what remained of his breakfast as fast as possible, feeling flush begin to enter his cheeks. Dinah seemed to be happily enjoying her food for several minutes, unconsciously tapping her fork against one of the tomatoes on her plate while her eyes skimmed through the Daily prophet, until: “How’s your back?”

“How would my back be?” Aesop replied, voice dull and quiet. He tried to make a plan to get out of the situation, but a part of him knew that not engaging Dinah in conversation was as good as coming clean that this ‘herb-picking expedition’, as his sweetheart called it, was so much more than that... “Well, I do hope you were a gentleman and let her have the bed. And you know how your back gets when you don’t sleep somewhere comfortable,” her voice was the essence of absolute innocence. More blood poured into Aesop’s cheeks as he attempted to answer as calmly and normally as he could: “My back is completely fine, thank you for your concern.”

It seemed the DADA teacher was all done with her innuendos for the time being, and Aesop finally heaved a sigh of relief.

“Oh, you’re back my friend!” Aesop tensed instantly. Abraham and Dinah’s favourite activity was poking fun at him whenever they could (all in good fun, of course), and it certainly felt like the older man appearing like he did to engage him in such a jovial sounding conversation was not a coincidence… That is, Abraham was always very jovial, but Aesop’s was already so strung up from Dinah’s previous words, he couldn’t help feeling suspicious.

“So, how did the deflowering go?”

Aesop almost suffocated on his breakfast for the second time. As soon as the tea was safely on its way to his stomach rather than his lungs, he turned to the Charms professor swiftly: “What the fuck, Abraham?!”

The older man looked taken aback by the little outburst, but didn’t lose the friendly look on his face: “Well, you spent the weekend collecting all sorts of magical flowers and herbs, didn’t you? Though, I do admit, the term might have sounded slightly misleading, and I apologise for that. Of course there wouldn’t be any other kind of deflowering going on, would there?”

“Precisely!” the potions master said rather loudly, accidentally attracting the attention of some of his other colleagues. He cleared his throat, and lowered his voice once more: “Listen, I don’t care what the two of you are playing at, but I’d be very grateful if you let me eat my breakfast and go prepare for my classes today in peace.”

After a couple of completely unapologetic apologies, Aesop felt stable enough to return to his meal. If he wasn’t as hungry as he was after the passionate night, not to mention unwilling to look like he was fleeing from the two, he would’ve risen and left long ago…

“So, did you show her the road to heaven?” Dinah asked then.

Aesop’s cup shattered in his hold. Luckily he had just finished drinking his tea, so there was no liquid left to spill onto his robes. The sound of the ceramic breaking wasn’t loud enough to attract the attention of his fellow teachers again, but his two closest friends definitely raised their eyebrows at his reaction.

Not that Aesop saw them - no, he was looking down at his empty plate, feeling his face turning impossibly hot, and knowing he was red as a salamander. “I of course meant the trail towards the waterfalls near one of the mines, you always called it ‘the road to heaven’,” Dinah clarified, watching for his reaction. The potions master gave none, but simply rose from his chair and walked off without a word. Rather swiftly too, but without breaking into a full run. The DADA teacher couldn’t stop the chuckles from leaving her lips as Aesop Sharp left the Great Hall.

“Did we overdo it?” asked Abraham then, sounding mildly concerned. His colleague merely shrugged her shoulders: “Serves him right for thinking he’s so slick. It’s been more than three months, if he just manned up finally and told us, I’d leave him alone… Well, I would not, but I’d tone it down a little. Besides, he'll live. Since when does a former Auror let some teasing rile him up this much; he’ll simply drag his young eagle into his chambers, and she’ll rid him of all frustrations, I’m sure.”

—

Aesop Sharp sat in his office, face still red in embarrassment. What was going on with him? Normally, he was able to take all of his friends’ teasing on the chin and reply in kind, but this morning it was impossible to do. Why? Was it because they were right in their insinuations? Because while it truly was just innocent teasing on their part, for Aesop it was very much real? Or did they actually know? He sighed, and put his head into his hands.

A knock came upon his door, prompting him to groan. Class was not due for another 30 minutes at least! “Enter,” he said anyway, not lifting his head up. The door opened. “Aesop?” came the sweetest voice in the world, and the potions master immediately raised his head to look at the woman standing on the threshold of his office. “Is everything alright?” She sounded terribly worried. Aesop couldn’t help but smile at her, her concern touching him. “It’s alright, I promise. I didn’t see you at breakfast?” he said quietly, extending his hands towards her, and she instantly took them. He pulled her closer, now noticing she was carrying a piece of parchment in her hand.

“I was a little late, had a long night…” her eyes twinkled happily with a hint of mischief, “I was just on my way to Herbology, when professor Hecat asked me to go give this to you.” The potions master swallowed audibly, but nevertheless took the letter from her hand. He braced himself mentally before unrolling it. Next thing he knew, he was smiling at the words that stood against the white parchment.

“Good news?” his young lover asked hopefully, her fingers stroking his shoulders. Aesop’s hands reached her waist, and he pulled the Ravenclaw in for a kiss, the letter ending up somewhere on his desk.

Only a few simple words were written on it.

‘We’re happy for both of you. - D & A’

---

Thank you for reading! ❤️

[AO3] - [Sharpuary 2024] - [Masterlist]

#aesop sharp #professor sharp #hogwarts legacy #my art #fanfiction #reader insert #drawing #aesop sharp x reader #aesop sharp x mc #sharpuary 2024 #sharpuary #digital art #Hogwarts legacy fanart #aesop sharp fanart #dinah hecat #professor hecat #artists on tumblr

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