#even andromeda had more than this... | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ldrfanatic · 9 months ago

Text

two worlds collided

theodore nott x fem!malfoy!ravenclaw!reader

a.n. this is quickly becoming a theo obsession blog BUT I am open to requests for others

love theo in this piece.

to be added to my theo nott taglist just comment on one of my theo nott posts :)

synopsis - you're draco's sister but you're a ravenclaw. your father shunned you because he thought that voldemort wouldn't want you but when Nott sr is trying to find theodore a bride your father takes this as the perfect opportunity. over time you grow to genuinely care for one another.

warning - cursing, lucius malfoy is a prick, hitting, borderline verbal abuse, arranged marriage

accompanying song - never tear us apart (bishop briggs)

works slytherin boys

"Father is asking for you."

Shock washed over you and you wondered if you submerged yourself into your cloud-like bed if Lucius would just forget about it. After carefully weighing your options, it seemed rather unlikely. You threw your navy covers to the side and shuffled awkwardly to the main dining hall where your mother, father, and older brother Draco were waiting.

Your eyes fell onto a rather scary looking man and another handsome figure who you recognized as Theodore Nott, one of Draco's friends.

"Daughter." The warm velvet tones of Narcissa Malfoy filled the air. After you'd been sorted into Ravenclaw, Draco and Lucius had shunned you. Narcissa had been the only person in the entire family still kind to you. Well, she and your estranged aunt Andromeda who you'd been secretly exchanging letters since third year.

"Now that the Dark Lord has gained strength, it is imperative that we maintain close connections within the Sacred 28." Lucius approached you, looking rather unhinged, and placed a large hand on your shoulder. There was a malicious look in his eyes that made the entire interaction all the more unnerving. "Once the Dark Lord begins his plans, he'll need people he can trust to continue the most important of magical bloodlines."

Your father took you by the shoulders and moved you to stand in front of Theodore and the mystery man at his side.

"This is Theodore Nott Sr. and his son, who I presume you know from school."

Nott Sr. glanced to the side at Theodore who snapped out of a sort of trance. He brought your hand up to his lips and placed a gentle kiss on it.

"Y/n."

You smiled but didn't say anything, waiting in silence for your father to elaborate. He and Nott Sr. had clearly formed some sort of plan. "You and his son are to be married."

"What?!" Your body whipped around of its own accord and you felt rage explode over your body. "You haven't spoken to me in years and suddenly you expect me to marry this man without even asking me if I wish to be married to him or anyone for that matter?!"

Lucius' hand came down suddenly. A loud 'whack' resounded in the room as the back of his palm made contact with your cheek. "You ungrateful little brat." He straightened his cloak and took what you supposed was meant to be a calming breath. "Draco noticed the way that you stared at the Nott boy in school. You ought to be more appreciative that I didn't choose that awful Pucey boy although he was more than willing."

Though you couldn't see, Theodore's nose turned up in disgust at the mention of Adrian Pucey. He'd taken a liking to you, completely undeterred by the elder Malfoy's numerous threats to stay away from his younger sister. Draco might've been appalled that you'd been sorted into Ravenclaw, but that didn't mean that he was gonna let that slimey tosser terrorize you.

Your gaze stayed on the floor for a few moments before you turned back around, muttering a small apology to Theodore and his father. Overall, Theo was quite handsome and you had stared at him more than a few times. He really was quite handsome.

Nott Sr. studied you for a few moments then turned to Theodore expectantly. "Why don't the two of you take a stroll and become acquainted while Lucius and I finish up the particulars." It was phrased like a question, but in truth he wasn't asking. The air was silent as you walked out of the room the brunette boy following diligently.

The cool air nipped at your exposed skin as the heavy oak door slammed shut behind you. It was always cold and dark in the area surrounding Malfoy Manor.

"I'm sorry Theodore."

"Theo."

You stared at Theodore like a fish out of water waiting for words of any intelligence to come to you. Finally, you stuttered out an ignorant 'Huh?'.

"Call me Theo."

Your heart beat loudly in you ears for a few moments. "Oh-kay," Theo began to mosey into the Manor gardens with you hot on his heels. He was quite tall and due to the length of his legs, every one step he took was nearly three of yours. "So Theo. I am sorry you got dragged into this."

"That's alright fiancée." Theo teased you with a smile that could make any girl weak in the knees. For a moment you felt as though you could almost forget that the both of you were being forced into this.

"Still. I know your reputation. I only ask that you keep your conquests separate from our entanglement."

An indescribable akin to hurt flashed in the eyes of the boy before you. As well as something you didn't quite recognize.

"My reputation?" You spluttered at him for a few moments once again making a fool of yourself in front of Theodore Nott.

"Theo I didn't mean to--"

"Whatever." He turned away from you and stalked angrily back towards the Manor, calling over his shoulder. "And it's Theodore."

The rest of the break passed by pretty miserably, as expected. You and Theodore had gone on a few dates, as demanded by both your father and Nott Sr. since the pair of you were courting now, but they were long and excruciating with little to no conversation.

Despite a summer that seemed as though it would never end, September finally arrived.

You were boarding the train with Theodore and Draco as your parents watched on. They'd been keeping an extra close eye on the pair of you. In all honesty, you and Theodore hadn't grown any closer in your courtship than you'd been as distant acquaintances the year prior. If anything, the walk in the garden at the start of your relationship had forced you further apart.

And though you'd pretended you didn't care, seeing Theodore with other girls was never something you'd enjoyed. Now, knowing that he'd be your husband sooner rather than later, the thought of Theo running around with some daft blonde Slytherin made your heart sink to your stomach.

Yet, as the year progressed, you and the rest of Hogwarts were unexpectedly surprised by Theo. Before you knew it, the first snowfall graced Hogwarts in November, and Theodore hadn't had any flings with any girls. He was even turning down girls that had been brave enough to approach him and make the first move.

Without your parents to keep the two of you tightly bound, you and Theodore hadn't spoken since the train in.

Through all of this, you hadn't expected to become close friends with Pansy Parkinson, a Slytherin girl in Theo and Draco's year. But she'd walked up to you during breakfast one morning and the two of you really hit it off.

Hence why currently, you were sat on Pansy's bed while she worked on her charms homework. And she was putting her absolute all into trying to convince you to ask Theo to Hogsmeade.

"C'mon Y/n! It might be fun."

"If by fun you mean he'll humiliate me in front of the entire student body." You mumbled under your breath. You tried to tune her out so as to focus on the book you were currently attempting to read, but she was determined.

"According to Blaise Theo's been talking about you when Draco isn't around to glare at him for it."

"Look Pans, I know you're in love with the bloke but have you considered that Blaise may be confused? Or simply taking the mickey?" Pansy shot you an unimpressed look. "Theo and I haven't spoken since September. In any case, if he's turning down long legged red heads who are all but stripping in front of him, what makes you think he'd want to go out with me?"

"Because he's already agreed to speak with you in the Slytherin Common Room tonight."

"What?!"

Pansy ignored your protests and damn near dragged you down to the common room with an iron grip on your wrist. When you got there, Theo was spread out on one of the expensive leather couches with a cigarette in between his lips. Yet as he noticed you approaching, he immediately dropped it and put it out with a stomp on the stone floors.

"Y/n."

The sonorous tones of Theo's voice bounced off each wall of the common room and seemed to warm you from the inside out. His voice was so inviting that you almost believed you could actually do this.

There is, however, one thing to know about Theodore Nott. No matter how inviting or pleasant Theo's aura is, you'd made a promise to yourself not to look him in the eyes. You knew that if you made the unfortunate mistake to look Theodore Nott in his malachite eyes, you'd lose all ability to think, speak, even breathe properly.

It wasn't until you saw his shoes enter your line of sight that you knew that he'd approached you at all. Worse, when his large hand found purchase under your chin and lifted your gaze to meet his, you knew that you were well and truly fucked.

In that most regrettable moment, you realized how much you'd fallen in love with Theodore. During shared hushed dates and the rare moments of laughter. Theodore Nott had completely enraptured you. And you realized much too late to do anything about it.

So now here you stood. Lost in the beautiful blues and greens of your fiancée's eyes. You were completely, 100% at Theodore Nott's mercy. And likely not for the last time in your life, you felt the urge to give into him. He was a sin that you'd willingly drown in.

"Bellisima," Theo's voice thickened as he spoke. You couldn't understand what he was saying nor could you place the language. But in all honesty, you hadn't known that he even spoke any other languages. His tongue wrapped effortlessly around each syllable and his voice deepened even more than usual, if possible. "I asked you a question."

"Huh?"

"You've been avoiding me." He stepped closer and your heartbeat spiked. "Why?"

Why had you been ignoring Theo again? How could you, or anyone for that matter, ever dream of not giving this devastatingly handsome man everything he desired and more? Oh yeah. Your wretched father.

"You've already been roped into entrapment with me and then forced to hang out with me all summer. I didn't want to cause anymore turmoil to your peace than I already have."

Theo's lips pursed and his eyes narrowed. Once again you'd gone and offended the poor boy.

Immediately, you opened your mouth to apologize, but he cut you off.

"D'you know for a Ravenclaw, you really can be rather thick sometimes?"

You felt your jaw drop in shock. The small grin he currently sported on his face let you know that he'd obviously been teasing. And for the umpteenth time since knowing him, Theo stole your breath with his stupid mesmerizing smile.

Yet, through all of that, he was right. You genuinely had no idea what he was talking about. After what seemed like an eternity of silence, Theo finally seemed to get the hint that he was going to have to spell this out for you.

"I know you probably don't know this about me, but I never do anything that I don't want to. No matter who's asking."

You continued to stare at him blankly. Had he hit his head during the last quidditch match?

Theo ran a hand stressfully through his hair. He grabbed your wrist and led you back to the couches where you settled comfortably in the seat next to him, careful to maintain a respectful distance. "Merlin, Y/n. Turns out you Malfoy's are all slow."

"No offense." He added on quickly when he saw the look on your face. "That's not the point. Y/n I never would have agreed to this engagement with you if I didn't actually want to. I know that you did not get a say in the matter so if you truly wish to live our lives separately, I will respect your choice." Theo gently pulled your hand until it was safely tucked in between both of his larger ones.

"But whatever your decision, know that I am yours. I have wanted nothing more in the past few months than to be by your side. And every moment I spend without you is inexplicable torture for my soul."

"Theo."

He shook his head and cradled you face between his palms.

"No. My mother had a saying. Lascia che la vita accada. It means 'let life happen'. She believed that the only way to truly know if something is meant for you is to let life make it happen on its own. So take a few days. I'll meet you Saturday morning in the Great Hall. But know that if you agree to be mine, Tesoro, you'll be mine for eternity."

To say that staying away from Theo in the days following was easy would be a complete and total lie. When you told Pansy about the conversation the pair of you had (or lack thereof really) she'd all but exploded.

Finally, Saturday morning rolled around. You'd genuinely thought about all your options and you'd come to a decision. The only issue with Theo's plan is that Saturday was the infamous Gryffindor v Slytherin Quidditch match. The Great Hall was bustling in seas of only red or green. You were sporting a dark green jumper, a show of obvious support for the Slytherin team.

Those of your house that favored Gryffindor looked on at you with disdain as you stood from your bench and began making your way to the Slytherin table in search of Theo. He was one of Slytherin's chasers so trying to find him during such a hectic morning proved difficult.

As you walked up and down the table, a familiar figure appeared in front of you.

"Ahh Malfoy. I've been looking for you. I was wonderin' if you'd wear my jersey."

Before you had time to respond or even acknowledge the situation at all, Adrian Pucey had shoved his green and silver practice jersey into your arms. It was an incredibly common practice for girlfriends and boyfriends of Quidditch players to wear their partner's jerseys to their games for good luck.

The hall fell silent as the sound of glass breaking reverberated through the air. You looked to the source of the noise. Theo had stood so abruptly from his seat next to Blaise and Lorenzo that his entire breakfast went flying and ended up on the floor.

He was staring at you with clear ache in his eyes. Suddenly, he swung himself over the bench and stormed out of the room.

You threw Adrian's awful smelling jersey back at his face and ran frantically after Theo.

"Theo!" He ignored you and continued walking briskly even as you approached quickly on his heels. "Theodore please. Just let me explain."

"You don't owe me an explanation, dolcezza ragazza. You've made your choice."

"You've got it all wrong. That's not my decision. I don't want that." You cried out as tears brimmed your eyes. The thought of losing Theo because of Adrian Pucey was mournful.

"Hey, hey. Calma tesoro. Breathe." Theo's hands one again found their way to your face. He gently thumbed the tears from your face. "Don't get yourself all worked up. I'll always listen to you."

"Adrian he just sort of threw his disgusting jumper at me. I don't want him. I only want you. I'm yours, Theodore Nott, completely and without hesitation."

The grin on Theo's face was nothing short of heart-stopping.

"Does that mean you'll wear my jersey at the game today?"

wc 2.6k oops

4.17.24

-- taglist --

@thatdammchickennugget @moonlightreader649

#slytherin boys #slytherin #theodore nott #theo nott x reader #theodore nott x reader #theo nott #slytherin boys x reader #lorenzo zurzolo #draco malfoy #blaise zabini #pansy parkinson

2K notes · View notes

vatelixx · 2 months ago

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The visionary, the willing executor,

Spencer Reid x afab!UNSUB!reader (written with mid!seasons Spencer Reid in mind)

SMUT!! copious amounts of angst (there’s traces of fluff in there as well if u get out ur magnifying glass)

BASED ON THIS SONG (it got so stuck in my head that I had to write something that correlated):

──── autistic spencer (it’s not explored that much, but it’s always gonna be present in my oneshots), evil evil reader (im not being dramatic this time. she’s literally a serial killer. like her ‘body count’ is copious. but idk, she’s kinda sweet. if u squint and ignore the bodies). They were in love ur honour !!! they’re still in love ur honour !!!! She pays him a visit two years after he found out about her homicidal tendencies (they miss each other, Spencer might also hate her a little but it’s okay, don’t worry about that).

Warnings: sub spencer (aaaaaaalways), maybe perhaps some vague, very faint mentions of switch!spencer but idk i blacked out writing this, choking, mentions of death and general behaviour that would get you a life sentence, praise more than degradation surprisingly, coming untouched, crying (you’d think that was a kink or something?), she fucks the good out of him, hopeful ending (eh, kinda), mentions of dante’s inferno, copious amounts of religious imagery, greek mythology references, this isn’t dead dove at all i promise.

w.c: 5k

a/n: everything i write has been so angsty recently. i’m working on something softer for my next upload i swear (alongside the requests, I promise, they’re being written im just a die-hard perfectionist). aaaaanyway, happy (belated) halloween!! It’s Spencer’s favourite season so i thought i’d write him getting destroyed by a serial killer (god when is it my turn????)

────────────

Spencer would consider himself a good person, by default. It’s reasonable: a renowned member of the BAU, with intellect he’s weaponized for morality. The blood etched onto his hands is justified. Necessary evil for greater cause. He’s willing to blemish his skin for the virtue, for the lives of others.

He remembers naivety. He remembers being so fragile he could easily crack into fragmented pieces of wasted innocence. Maybe that’s been stolen from him now, maybe the ruins of his sacrifices are too sharp to touch upon still, but he’s good. He knows he will always be good.

And yet, there’s a bruise. Something ugly and distorted that stains his skin. Something that has the ability to crawl deep into his bones and leave behind a mess of pain. Something bad. Festering and tainted, it haunts him with every breath.

You.

You, who came into his life as an abundance of sunlight. Helios personified. Pretty and warm, and everything he needed. He wanted to kiss you: the moment he stumbled into the coffee shop, tousled hair, overworked and raw from a burdening case. When you took his order, marking constellations onto the styrofoam cup. Andromeda, Ursa Major, Cassiopeia. Later, much later, then when you became an indomitable presence to his apartment.

But for all the good he’s preserved, Spencer knows he’s not allowed to receive it.

“You shouldn’t be here,” is the first thing he says when he finds you waiting for him. He always knew you would come back; you’re bound to follow him indefinitely. Like his shadow, his guilty consciousness, his cracked past of addiction and pre-pubescent torment.

He let you go. When the act was over, the curtain drawn, when he saw you. Homicidal, the perpetrator of the case he was working on, malevolence packed into the frame of perfection, oh even still, he let you go. Free to continue the cycle of death, he was left to scramble in the mess of his own misguided heart.

There’s risk in reward, and reward in risk. You’re meticulous, hedonistic to the last detail. But Spencer? Well, he will always be the one loose end you could never quite force yourself to clean up. The thread that kept untangling, even as time passed. Cut it off, you should be rational, wash every bleeding trace of him from your skin.

But there’s irrationality in love.

Blood adorns your features; there’s no need to touch up your appearance, to return to the domesticated facade you once used on him. No, he’s been exposed to the ugly now. There can be no do overs, no back-tracking, game over try again doesn’t exist in real time.

“What are you going to do about it?” you ask, and god, hes just as beautiful as the day you left him. So perfectly real, with dragging exhaustion and pretty brown eyes to ease the sting of his tight-faced, troubled expression.

You didn’t cut the phone lines, nor move the gun he keeps stashed in his cabinet drawer. Down the hall, to the left. You know he won’t make any abrupt actions. Know, in an intuitive way, telepathic communication between past lovers.

“It was a gamble coming here, aren’t you pleased to see me pretty boy?”

Spencer has to fight every urge he has, every moral he believes in to not lunge at you; to not strangle your slender neck, crack you in half, destroy you the way you’ve destroyed his sanity.

Two years, 8 months, 11 days since you cataclysmically uprooted his routined life. He fell in love with softness, not the jagged edge of a blade.

“I let you go. Wasn’t that enough?” it feels too natural, fighting in his apartment, some sort of twisted lovers quarrel. There’s a definite list of everything he should do in this moment, and despite all logic, he just blanks at the sight of you.

“You had to come back. Rub salt in the wound. Do you get off on this?” a sigh falls from his pretty lips, “Actually, don’t— don’t answer that. We both know the answer.”

“I get off on you,” you correct.

It’s true. If he was to analyse you, profile your warped brain like his other unsubs, he’d find nothing but unyielding loyalty to him. For all the damage you’ve done, there’s always been one anomaly to your detachment.

He stands right before you.

And, sure, maybe you’ve got a leg up in this situation. Perhaps the distorted memory of you holds him back: lazy nights and tangled sheets, his body pressed up against yours. The way he’d talk, quantum physics, philosophy, rambles that dissolved into open admissions of feelings. There’s a lot that was fake, but to be a good liar, you have to add subsidiary details of truth.

God, he wishes the world would be cruel—a cosmic alignment of karmic righteousness that would grant him relief: some kind of justification for what he must do. But the universe is indifferent, nothing but a distant star, a fleeting speck of dust in the grand scheme of life. There’s no such thing as good or bad, only consequences.

Consequences. Consequences for his actions. Butterfly effect. He can comprehend it. But, there were many things he adored about you, while the illusion of love was tangible. The way your hair would curl just above your shoulders, your skin in the morning light. The way you’d laugh at one of his obscure Star Trek references, better yet his criticism on modern, inaccurate horror. He could stare at you for eons, as though he was trying to make out the secrets of the universe in the constellation lines of your scars.

The illusion of love, as it was. He sees you now with the clarity of reality, the same way a mirage fades away as you approach; a distortion of perception.

“And you get off on me. Even now. Don’t you?” you say, shifting forward to close gravitational space.

There’s no way to disregard this morbid connection. No psychological justification he can exploit to demean your feelings. You’re not a psychopath, nor anything that relates to a lack of empathy. You feel— you feel empathy for all of your victims, the line of bodies that mark your path. But it goes deeper than that. There was reasoning for your actions, just as there was for his.

“Say it,” you goad. And there’s satisfaction here, sure. Something mean and condescending. But there’s also hurt, because he was supposed to be a means to an end, and now, he might very well be your end.

“Say you miss me. C’mon boy genius, a few little words and i’ll have enough content to satisfy me for years. Don’t be mean— you know I hate being edged.”

He does miss you, every day that he wakes up, his bones too hollow and cold to leave his bed. The ache in his chest where his heart was supposed to be, too empty to function. No amount of caffeine can fill the void in his skull where thoughts of you used to reside. The longing, the desire for the past to rewrite itself.

“You’re sick,” he tries. But he’s not good at this. Not when the love remained after the inevitable fall out, not when the darkest parts of him still clung to want, even after he realised the truth.

“You’re sick, and..” he tries again, “and I hate how much I miss you. There? Is that enough? Are you happy? Got what you wanted?”

You let out an exasperated sigh, “No. If I ‘got what I wanted’, I would still have you.”

Spencer dies. Metaphorically, literally, what does it even matter? He dies, respawns, and then kisses the admittance from your lips.

Instinctively, just like the past, your hands tangle through his hair, and perhaps there’s a sense of ownership to the gesture. The knowledge that he will always be yours. Scarred from your touch, returning to your lips like a dog with a bird. There’s a mindless attempt at anger on his part, biting lips and rough teeth, but just like always, he quickly melts.

He melts, and you catch him. Because for all it’s worth, lies and deceit aside, you’ve always loved him.

There’s something powerful to the gesture; knowing you have someone wrapped around your finger. Even after you’ve bared the worst of you, the ugliness of man-kind. There’s someone out there that will wipe the blood from your cheek, and kiss you through it.

“Oh, even better,” you mutter against his lips, “Much, much better. C’mon Spence, show me just how much you’ve missed me.”

Two years, 8 months, 11 days since he felt like he could breathe.

It hurts, it hurts so much, because there’s a sense of coming home to the kiss, and he just wants you to stay. To ruin him forever. To leave behind a deformed version of him, something unrecognisable and equally scarring.

You’re too loyal and he’s too susceptible to any form of attention. Because you want him, and it’s easy to fall into a cyclical cycle of self-destruction when you’re the catalyst.

“I did miss you.” he admits again. “You— crazy, homicidal excuse of a person.”

Spencer’s hand comes up to touch your cheek, the rough texture of skin meeting something soft. His thumb traces down the curvature of your jawline, a silent hello that doesn’t linger long, too soon to be replaced with his lips.

You push him back against the wall, a painful groan escaping your lips when you feel his hips canting forward, searching aimlessly for a friction you’ve both been denied. Two years. His body still aches for you. It’s primal, something perverted and tainted and so very good.

You knew this would happen. There was not a doubt in your clouded mind that he would deny you. What you do to me, I do to you.

“There’s my boy.” you mutter when you grip said hips, fingers finding their natural, fated position against divine bone. When he begins to find a stable pace, bucking up to meet you with every kiss that you press to his lips.

He whimpers when you touch him, soft sounds of need slipping past his parted lips into the confines of his empty apartment. He’s trying so hard to maintain composure, but he can’t find it in him to fight the inevitable. The ache of separation between himself and you. So he lets it happen, like he always does.

My boy, the possession goes straight to his head. One simple phrase and he’s untangling, breaking to pieces because yes, he is yours. And yes, he will forever want to be reminded.

“Mhm, mhm. Oh— oh, fuck.” he’s so hard, clothed cock pushing up against you with every movement. He could get off on less of you. He has. Every night.

And yes, it certainly feels like home. It’s only the thing your body has been aimlessly yearning for, day in and day out. It’s not fair, not fair to you, that you’ve allowed your resolve to crumble, your strategic, one-track mind, for the fleeting body of a past lover.

But then again, demeaning him to a past lover doesn’t even begin to articulate this.

You’re fairly certain he was put on this earth, just to torment you.

And you’re fairly certain you’ll always let him.

“God, you’re such a slut for me.” you say, drawing back from the friction just to prove your point. The disintegrating whimpers that bleed out of his mouth in response are enough alone to confirm.

His head falls back against the wall, baring that lovely length of his neck and its pretty bruises. He wants you to kiss him there, to leave one last mark before he says ‘I won’t see you again’ and means it this time.

“Don’t— don’t stop—” even as he speaks, a mess of jumbled words and breathless sentences, you’re still teasing him. He hates how much it works, how much he’d rather fall into the pleasure of your hands.

“Fine. Whatever. Yes. What do you want to hear? That it’s whorish the way I want you. That you’re able to just… corrupt me with all these dirty words, even though I have an extensive vocabulary. Even though i’m supposed to be—“

He’s not even sure what he’s supposed to be anymore.

“You know the extent of my devotion.” he concedes.

There will always be sadistic pleasure in reducing him to such an ignominious version of himself. You’ve seen it before, back when you were trapped in an artificial, yet domesticated, haze of bliss. But to hear it now? Even after everything has been said and done?

That’s a new type of pleasure.

You know he still holds onto the facade of you, aimlessly reaching for something intangible, something that never truly existed. “You want me to be good for you, huh? Just pack up my shit, leave it all behind, get better? Think about it. White picket fence. Coffee every morning. God— it would be insufferable. Coming home to feed the dogs, talking every night over the phone, begging you to be safe on a case, or or—“

Spencer breaks. Silencing your words with a pained whimper.

Usually, he doesn’t allow himself to think about that fantastical hypothetic. He can’t afford to. Months after he let you go, when the truth had been exposed to his naive eyes, he’d spend hours in a mess of aching limbs, dreaming up alternative realities where your hands weren’t stained from blood, and the most despicable thing you could do was make his coffee bitter.

So when you force him to open old wounds, to rehash past hopes, he falls apart. A whine escapes his lips, hips bucking, once, twice and then he’s coming untouched. Making a mess out of himself— and it’s sick, so very sick to get off on the thought of you permanent, the epitome of good.

Something he could hold onto without slicing open skin.

It’s not a good orgasm, it never is without your direct help, but at least it’s some form of release. In the aftermath, he blinks away tears, vaguely aware of the cum staining his boxers, creating damp spots through fabric.

There’s something painful, cutting to your gaze when you look at him. At the debauched sight, corrupted from just a few words.

Give it all up? For what? Him?

All things considered, it’s tempting.

“Spencer,” you mutter in the serrated moments between. When he’s still nebulous, caught in the aftershocks of abrupt pleasure. When he’s just gotten off, untouched, on the notion of a domesticated life with you.

He’s struggling to breathe. He’s spent nights gasping for you, reduced to the most debasing version of himself. So out of touch, you drove a blade through his back, catching his heart on the way.

“Why are you— doing this?” he asks, but before you can even answer, provide him with an explanation that will devastate, he’s lunging forward, kissing the lies that cling to your lips. Kissing you because his mouth hurts when it’s not attached to yours.

“One last time.” he says; he’s too intelligent, too intellectually adept, to allow this swallowing cycle of humiliation to continue.

But, underneath it all, he’s also inherently selfish for you. He’s fairly certain you were engrained into his skin, long before he fell into your barbed trap, teeth and penetrative ruin.

“Then you leave. You actually leave, never contact me again. No showing up at my apartment unprovoked. I have a good life without you. Understood?”

You scoff. He presses forward, “Understood?”

You don’t protest when he elucidates his life as good. Even if it’s quite the contrary. Even if he has to bare witness to depravity every single day, scrutinise his way through the minds of the most perverse. Perhaps this is a social experiment to him, perhaps you are the guinea pig, Laika sentenced to space. You know he loved you once, but it’s hard to comprehend the feelings remained unscarred, it’s hard to imagine you’re anything but a test subject now.

You look at him. Look at that pretty face. Your undoing. He could be your achilles heel, hamartia in its rawest form, or maybe you willingly chose to do this. Maybe fate, and divine intervention played no part in your attachment to him. Maybe it’s just chemicals. The logics explanation. Imbalanced, skewed chemicals.

“Don’t worry, boy genius.” you respond, “You won’t get anything, not even a postcard, from me. It’ll be like I never even existed.” no trace. D.C has always been a monotone cesspit of nothing anyway.

It’s cruel. Because if you leave, truly leave. And he never hears from you again, never catches you in his kitchen, drinking coffee with an unadulterated smile, then he will begin to forget.

The curve of your spine, the scars beneath your chest, the way your fingers fit into his own. The way he was able to memorise your body until he could draw it in the dark, when your body was pressed to his, when there was nothing but a false establishment of safety.

He knows he can’t forget. Not technically. But it’ll grow distant, it’ll be replaced with new normals and routines. That, that, he can’t compute.

“Good,” he says, kissing you again, kissing you because this is it.

Spencer wants you. In every sense of the word, he wants you so badly it’s killing him.

His bedroom still holds traces of you. That, itself, is a crime. But he just falls into you. The way lovers do. Your hands against his skin— his hair threaded through your fingers, your lips at the base of his neck. He lets you leave another bruise, a mark, a confirmation of possession, because even if this is the last time, he is, and always will be yours.

“Still the prettiest person i’ve ever seen,” you admit when he’s flushed naked beneath you.

There’s something in those doe-eyes, brown irises blown out of proportion, that hooked you. Even at the worst, it was still soft with him.

Slender frame, slightly arched, you want to bite into his hips, mark every inch of him as yours. It’s greedy, gluttonous, his messy hair, fanning out like a halo, the tangled curls he never bothers to properly care for.

“God, fucking look at you,” you grip his jaw, tilt his head back to bare that blemished neck of his. To have and to own. He’s so inexplicably different to you, so good it runs down to the bone. And maybe you’ve always been insatiable for what you’ve lacked.

He can’t take this. He can’t, not again. The past, the future will have to dissolve with this moment, because there will never be another again.

You will never get this close to him. It’s a terrifying thought, that this’ll be the standard of intimacy, of love - because he knows it isn’t. But he can’t risk the reality he’s faced with, the reality of living without this. Of living without you.

Your words only make it worse. He wants to beg you to stop. To cease the torture.

“Shut up.” He kisses you, as if to remind you that your mouth is made for kissing, for his lips, for a litany of dirty words that he can’t bear to hear. Those words are for someone else. For someone similar. Not him. Never him.

Defying fate. He gets off on being something bad beneath the surface. No one would ever expect it; boyish maladroit Spencer, the youngest of the team, willingly allowing, condoning, a killer to sink into his skin.

“Don’t tell me to shut up,” you respond, muffled against his lips. “If this is the last time, i’m going to enjoy it. Going to enjoy the sight of you, all desperate for me alone.”

“You assume i’ve ever been desperate for anyone else—“ he counters.

“Oh, that’s it. Keep talking dirty to me.”

“It’s not dirty. It’s a factual statement.”

You pull away, a trail of saliva bridging the space between your mouths. If there is higher power at play here, you want to curse, to spite your creator. Because if ‘things’ had been different, if you had been born from the same rib, this could’ve ended differently.

Or for that matter, never ended at all.

“Sit there and watch me.” you say, and Spencer hates the way he obliges. Pushing himself up against the headboard, he stares at you, at the way you position yourself, standing by the foot of the bed.

“Do you even know what you do to me? Do you even understand the gravity your existence has on me?” you continue, unfastening the lace corset that clings to your frame. When it drops to the floor, breasts exposed, you run your hands across them, catching pierced nipples for a vindictive moment of pleasure.

“I— uh,” Spencer is admittedly a little distracted. Sex had always been something ruinous between you two. Something that conflicted his lack of experience, forced him to adapt.

He always wondered how someone so soft, the epitome of light, could be this obscene. Now he understands.

“Lost your words? Come on, pretty boy. I thought you had an ‘extensive vocabulary?’ Hm?”

He wants to touch himself, to ease the pulsing throb that centres in his cock. But he doesn’t, because despite the time that has passed, he still knows your rules. “Don’t use my words against me. I’m being tortured.”

“Tortured, huh?” your hands fumble over buttons until you’re reduced to a pair of panties, soaked throughly, leaving scarce to the imagination.

“So so tortured. Oh my god, who are you? Can I please have my soul back?” he’s joking, but not really.

“Well maybe if you beg for it,” your words fade into a mess of moans, fingers slipping beneath fabric to graze your clit. Spencer’s head spills back against the wall; he looks more affected by the movements than you.

It’s easy to fall back into old habits. Relapse.

“Come here, come here, i’m having an existential crisis.” he says, watching as you slip one finger, then two inside you, struggling to stand now. It’s strange how pleasure can reduce the most antagonising minds to vulnerability.

“Please— oh fuck, please. Please. Don’t make me watch, I can’t. Need you. Need you so bad.”

He thought he found the core of torture in you touching yourself, but he was wrong. Because when you crawl closer, when you slot yourself between his thighs, lips finding skin that only you have ever touched, he sees the root of evil in his brain. The ninth circle of hell.

It’s justified, he supposes. For all the good he’s done, he has betrayed. Himself, his friends, family, existence itself. There is not one thing he wouldn’t ruin, just to feel you. It’s incriminating, so yes, he deserves to freeze in Cocytus. He’ll willingly plead guilty, accept his entrapment in the ring of Caina.

“Poor baby, look at you.” you say, kissing his tip, catching the pre-cum on your tongue. Spencer responds: fisting bedsheets, fighting the restraint to buck forward, to find misplaced solace in the warmth of your mouth. He’s sprawled out across sheets now, lying back in a tangled heap of want. “Shh, it’s okay,” you continue, “I like my men desperate.”

“Desperate? Ah—,” he fights the urge to shut his eyes, too aware that this is the last memory he will ever retain of you.

You, painted into his mind. The final evidence left in the fire: mouth sinking down his length, taking him to the hilt, watery eyes and leaking mascara.

“This isn’t even desperation. You’re killing me. Just, oh oh— please, don’t. ‘M gonna cum. Gonna cum—“

Is it sick that he doesn’t want to? If only to prolong this transitory moment of destruction? Like the lotus eaters, he will always be mindless in the pursuit of more, more, more of you.

You draw back from his cock, only to press a soft kiss against the tip. The gesture alone has him reeling, has him begging to be saved, to atone for every sin he found in the comfort of your divinely crafted lips.

“Gonna let me sit on that pretty cock of yours, hm? Let me use you one last time? Promise i’ll be good,” a lie, “So so good.”

“God, yes. Yes, please. That would—“ You take him deep, deep enough that everything aches. He only feels alive when you’re wrapped around him, when there’s not an ounce of distance between your bodies, when he can touch the insides of you. Pry open the raw, unfiltered version of you.

He only feels alive when he’s sunk inside the harbinger of death. He’d laugh if it didn’t hurt.

You’ve got one hand tangled in your hair, the other pressed flat against his waist, supporting you through each bump of movement. Eyes like marbles, Spencer looks up, and wonders why this will never be enough for you.

You look back, meet his gaze, as if you’re Orpheus, predestined to turn around, to always return. Even if it’s just for one last second. Even if the fall-out is so much worse than pushing forward blindly.

Oh, hes certain you’re carving a hole inside him, something that will only grow and expand, imploring to be filled by it’s inventor. It’ll hurt, for the rest of time, he supposes.

When he finds your hand around his neck, he isn’t startled. Neither, when your thumb presses against his throat, applying pressure until the world cracks and fades, distorting his refined mind to the here and now. He floats, feeling transient in the curse of your touch.

“That’s it. Just let go. I’ve got you.”

He is a sacrificial lamb. The priests favourite. He will take the knife every time, and thank you for it after.

You release the tension, hand taking his instead. For all the cruelty you possess, you’d never think to harm him. Not physically at least. The emotional damage, however, finds you both. There can be no happiness in either of your worlds, not when the memory of each other festers. “Good boy— taking it so well. God, no one is ever gonna compare.”

He cries at the words. Pretty tears streaming down his face, because the reciprocation to his undying piety will forever trigger the warped chemicals in his brain. Will forever reduce him to something saccharine.

“Love you. Love you so much. Don’t go. Please,” he fractures, “please don’t go.” he begs, besmirched words he’ll regret in the wake of his pleasure. They don’t count, and yet, he knows, in the most depraved sections of his mind, they’re true.

You ride him harder. Back curved, finding god in the washed-out body of someone fatally destroyed. “Not going anywhere— fuck, fuckfuckfuck. That feels so good. You’re so good,” maybe it’s a kink to ruin something so perfectly spotless.

Maybe it’s a kink that he wants it.

“Say it. God, just say it. This once.” for old times sake, he almost adds. But that wouldn’t be objectively correct. For all the intimacy you shared, you never once articulated those three words. Perhaps it was to save your dignity, to hold pieces of yourself in the lies you beautifully crafted.

His thumb runs over your clit, and in the tangle of your orgasm, he almost thinks you forget about his demand. But after, when you’re still taking him, when you’re still clenching, unclenching, clenching around his cock, when you know you own every part of him, you answer.

“I love you.”

He falls apart. Hips canting, body squirming, whimper after whimper escaping his bruised lips as he releases inside of you. Pushed deep, defiled to the limit. For a moment, everything is okay, everything will be alright, because there’s pleasure, and it’s you. It’s always you.

How can he justify falling in love with you again? How can he, when he still clings onto the artificial love of the past? He’s not sure his heart can handle one set of feelings, nevermind two.

He takes you again, well… mostly you take him again. In ways that have him polluted with the remnants of your teeth. Canine marks, etched deep enough to bleed. He hopes the swelling leaves behind perennial scars, anything to remind him. Anything to hold onto when you’re gone and it’s cold.

After, when you lie together, he presses his forehead against yours and wishes he was in any other universe. One where you’re happy. Where everything is pure and simple, clean from sin.

There was always truth in what we shared before, you admit. Lazy nights spent draped over the couch, kissing him to silence convoluted rambles. Your presence in the morning, bathed in holy glow, sunlight bleeding over the pretty sight of you. The first night he touched you and saw god. And then the following night, when he ascended all over again.

He wakes to find no body. He wakes to find nothing. It feels like self-sabotage, the promise that you would leave, even if it’s quite the contrary.

In the absence, abstinence of your presence, he discovers traces of you in everything he sees, all of it, everything consumed, returning to the simple thought of you you you.

When the first postcard comes, Portland, dreary weather— beaches and ports, there’s no anger. No exasperation that you broke your word.

You love him, it’s morbid, but for someone like him, it overrules everything. Sanity, dignity, his own stable existence.

You overrule everything.

#criminal minds #sub spencer reid #sub spencer #halloween #unsub!reader #spencer reid smut #spencer reid angst #CRAAAAWLING BACK TO U #idk guys they might be in love??#all i do is write smut wtf (i need help)

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too-deviant · 11 months ago

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mdni 🃏

luke castellan who never lets second in command!reader out of his sight. and if he does, he always knows where you are, what you’re doing, who you’re with. when the som trio first infiltrate the princess andromeda and barely escape with their lives, luke is on a warpath straight back to his cushy suite. he whistles sharply and you (who had been reaming out some dracanae for letting the kids get away) are quick to follow.

standing at his side as he addresses his army, you are all-glaring, deep frowns and snarls. arms crossed, spear at your side, violent energy pooling at your feet. it’s why luke chose you.

but when he pulls you into the room and locks the door behind you, your fingers shake in anticipation and you glance up at him through your lashes, the most painfully beautiful look of longing shining up at him. he groans into his fist and sits on the edge of the mattress, his other hand gesturing for you to start the show.

it always starts slow — the peeling of your shirt from your skin, the dropping of your cargos. but then he can’t hold it in anymore, and he’s grabbing you by the hips and pulling you onto his lap, taking your mouth in his. his hands, rough and callused, travel along the planes of your bare skin. skin that hasn’t bore witness to the horrors you inflict — your back, your thighs, your sternum.

he flips you onto your back, and you wrap your legs around his hips (he liked to keep his clothes on whenever he took you. it reminded him who was the boss of who whenever your pussy made him forget) and he trails kisses from your ankles to that sweet sweet spot — his fingers working more gently than they ever would when wrapped around the hilt of his sword, or even the base of his cock.

he devours you like it’s his last meal, and then politely waits for you to come down from your orgasm before burying himself balls deep between those supple thighs of yours.

(he would never admit it, but his favourite part was watching you pant underneath him after a star-seeing climax. watching your legs tremble slightly, staring intently at the pink blush on your cunt as you sucked in puffs of air impatiently. he would tut and tell you to take your time, “i’ll wait as long as it takes.”)

and as soon as you give him the nod, all pleasantries fly out the window. he is grunting into your neck, hands wrapped roughly around your legs and hips, indenting you where nobody would see but him.

one time you got cheeky, reached down and squeezed his ass. he sat up on his haunches, pulled you into this lustrous position on his lap and didn’t pay your squeals any mind as he committed his sultry revenge.

when you were done, he’d lean back to inspect his work. palm himself after tucking his cock away, fighting the urge to get hard again just from watching you come down from the excursion. his lips would part as you redressed yourself, eyes searing into your skin.

and when you were ready, as always, he’d open the door and wave you through, slapping your ass as you passed him.

“good job.”

#what did you do in the two hour break between your lecture and your seminar?#wrote smut #luke castellan #luke castellan smut #luke castellan x reader

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aureatchi · 7 months ago

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⋆ ✦ ˚｡⋆ THIS SUMMER NIGHT WE FIND SCATTERED DREAMS, I ONCE AGAIN RUN IN THE STARLIGHT ft. dazai, chuuya, fyodor, sigma.

— what it’s like to stargaze with them. (& more)

a/n. sadly, i have yet to see the aurora borealis and in general, seldom get to see the stars. (light pollution my no.1 enemy !!) but a girl can dream :) (& distract herself from the latest bsd chapters..)

info. fem!reader. fluff. soft everyone lol. some of them are nerds & ramble abt stars. :) + a little poetic. mentions of greek mythology. kissing. buildup to actual topic. profanities in chuuya’s & he may or may not use sskk to help. bsd manga/ability spoilers in fyodor’s.

DAZAI : so in this instance, i’d be perseus, and you’d be andromeda. — he listens to everything you have to say.

Your palm in his, the brunette’s pretty fingers wrapped around yours. He softly massaged your hand as you began telling him, your starstruck lover a story under the show of constellations. It had formed into a little routine since the first time you stargazed with him as a date.

“There was this princess,” you started. “Princess Andromeda. She was a very beautiful woma-”

“You’re more beautiful, though,” Dazai interrupted. You didn’t even get in two complete sentences without his commentary. You sat a bit awestruck while he delivered a kiss to your hand.

“Continue, bella,” big brown eyes teased you.

You hastily recovered. “…She was beautiful. And her mother—Queen Cassiopeia—who was very prideful, decided to brag to Poseidon, the Greek god of the seas, that she was prettier than his daughters.”

“I mean, that’s understandable. I brag about you all the time! Why shouldn’t the pretty girl be shown off?”

“Shut up,” you chuckled, reminiscing over the times the detective had shown you off. Whenever you decided to visit the Armed Detective Agency’s office with Dazai, Kunikida would never hear the end of it. When you two went out to eat, he would flatter your name away. “This gorgeous girl would like to order…” “May I please get a table for the angelic lady and I?”

He never failed to fluster you.

“Anyway, Poseidon got angry and decided to send a sea monster to destroy their kingdom. The only way the monster could be pacified was if it could devour Andromeda.”

“A damsel in distress,” Dazai nodded and then dramatically pretended like he was the helpless princess on the ocean. He completely pulled over the blanket the two of you were sharing, using it as a cape—“Someone save me! I’m going to be eaten by a sea monster!”

“‘Samu! I’m cold!”

“Ah, sorry. Perhaps you are the princess, and you need saving from this icy night!” He rewrapped the blanket over your shoulder.

“Stop interrupting me; I’m trying to tell you something!” It was nowhere near icy, but your lover proved his dramaticism even further when a tuft of brown hair grazed your shoulder. He had rested his head on you.

“Oka-ay—sorry, continue!”

“Meanwhile, Perseus—I told you last time, the man who killed Medusa—found Andromeda while flying over with his horse, Pegasus. He immediately fell in love with her, so he slayed the sea monster and rescued her from the rock she was chained to.”

“What a hero,” Dazai said. “So they lived happily ever after?”

“Not yet. Perseus asked Andromeda’s father for permission to marry her but discovered she was already set to marry someone else. And the man she was engaged to got angry that Perseus wanted to marry her.”

“Of course,” he sighed, which puzzled you a bit, but you’d return to his comment later. “I’m rooting for Perseus, though.”

“Well, good for you because the two fought, and Perseus won by showing the other guy Medusa’s head.”

Dazai chuckled. “Nice move! He turned his enemy into his trophy. Imagine if we did that to all our enemies!”

“I think then we’d have a whole army of statues,” you laughed. “But now, he and Andromeda married, and they were able to live happily ever after.

“The gods placed them in the sky so their story would be remembered eternally.” Finished with your recount, you gazed up at the stars.

“The North Star,” you pointed, and when you saw the brunette’s bronze eyes squint, trying to see what you were talking about, you moved closer until you were halfway on his lap.

You took his palm in yours and guided it to a single star.

“That one. All the characters’ constellations I mentioned in the story revolve around that star. Perseus with his sword, Andromeda flying on Pegasus...”

“Huh? That’s the North Star? Isn’t it supposed to be the brightest in the sky or something?” It didn’t stand out from the rest as much as he thought.

You giggled. “That’s a myth, ‘samu. It’s funny you didn’t know that.”

He shrugged. “I never really had time to appreciate and learn about something so peaceful like nature until now.” He turned to you.

“Until you.”

You weren’t sure how, but it was almost as if the moonlight had carved out his pretty face. Ethereal, you had called the moon, and it reflected in your lover’s features. His eyes took in the charm of the millions of lights in the night and synthesized the feeling to bring it back to you.

“If I were one of the gods, I would’ve created a whole galaxy reflecting your soul.”

In the midst of terror and chaos, the detective’s eyes revolved around humans and their violence rather than around the sun and the planets. Eyes and soul—how else could he focus on anything else when that’s all life showed him?

“Because I see the constellations in you—Andromeda, Pegasus, Carina, Orion…” it had been a few months, and throughout you had shown and told him all the stories behind the stars in the sky.

“And now I can stop to smell the flowers, love. I can watch the Ursa Minor, even if I still find it hard to sleep.” You were the bridge to his bronze gaze and iron marrow—you showed him that you were human, but that a heart could really exist without violence or malice.

I see a reason why the nebulas are placed as they are, even if stories are just stories. I see a reason I’m here. With you.

He sealed the thought with a kiss to your lips, under the celestial moon and the heavens’ watch.

You always wondered why Dazai paid such close attention whenever you started rambling—initially, you didn’t think he’d care that much about tales of space. But you understood him a bit better now, his complex heart. You held onto him a bit tighter to him as you kissed him back.

…

“Oh yeah. What did you mean when you said ‘of course,’ when I started talking about Perseus having to fight over another guy for Andromeda?”

And Dazai was his lighthearted self once again.

“We’re definitely Andromeda and Perseus in another universe,” Dazai winked. “You’ve always deserved to be treated like a princess! I would totally save you from a sea monster. And I’d be an equestrian if I could too—even better, a flying one!”

“Sure…”

“C’mon, bella, you see me at those horse-racing events all the time! Anyway, most important of all, I had to fight for you. Such a tough world when every other man is also at your feet.” He crossed his arms. “Having Medusa’s head would’ve made things so much easier! I really would’ve had a whole army of stone statues if I did.”

“No, you really didn’t need it at all,” you replied, laughing at Dazai, who was now pouting.

“Osamu the demigod: slayer of monsters or not, I only have eyes for you.” You kissed him on the cheek.

“Unlike Andromeda, I wouldn’t let two men fight over me and marry the one who wins.

“I would just choose you right away.”

CHUUYA : babydoll, you’re worth more than all those stars combined. — he only gives you the best.

“Ah, that’s unfortunate. Thank you for informing me, though,” you said before hanging up the phone.

You didn’t sue them on the line, albeit irritated. Tonight, you were supposed to have a date with Chuuya at one of the fancy restaurants he somehow discovered more of in the city when you thought you finally visited them all, but your reservations were cancelled last minute.

“Hey, princess,” the handsome ginger said when you phoned him next. You could sense a smile through his words on the other end.

“What’s up?”

“Weird-ass restaurant cancelled our plans,” you said. “Not even a refund.”

Chuuya quickly picked up on the disappointment in your voice, and he knew it wasn’t because he didn’t get his money back. Money was nothing—he was a Port Mafia executive. Stacks of bills piled into his hands every day, and he quietly flexed on it through his collection of wine in the cellar, his clothes, and gifts to you.

What he wasn’t wealthy in was time. It had been almost a month since Chuuya had any free time—the boss had been overworking him amidst never-ending Yokohama mayhem. His large penthouse actually proved to be a disadvantage when you were the only one staying in it. It was too empty; it was too quiet for a home, there was an awkward gap in the bed you slept in.

“It’s okay, baby,” came Chuuya’s voice reassuringly. “Don’t worry ‘bout some shitty-ass restaurant.

“Meet me home at the rooftop at the time we originally planned.”

“…Alright,” you replied, unsure of what he was going to do, but you were grateful anyway that you’d get to spend time with him.

“And get ready too, like we originally planned,” he added, and this time, you could imagine the smugness in his smile. “See ya soon.”

…

The bell chimed as the elevator approached the top of Chuuya’s apartment, signaling that you reached the rooftop.

“Chuu?” you called out as the doors opened. He was nowhere to be found—instead a pathway of candles and a trail of rose petals leading to the other side.

Your heels clicked on the ground as you slowly followed the course. It was dark towards the back of the rooftop, but the front overlooked the entire city of Yokohama.

Another quiet flex.

“Hey, beautiful.” You noticed him before the lively city behind him, before the romantic scene he had set up—the path of petals expanded into scattering around the table Chuuya was sitting at. He was dressed up too—looking as attractive as ever.

“The Nakahara Restaurant,” you hummed, taking a seat in front of him. “Not bad.”

Chuuya smirked. “Not bad? We get Michelin stars, baby. Trust me.”

You giggled. “I don’t know about that, Chuu. You’ll have to prove it to me.” It was like you had turned the tables on him. Usually, he only deemed a restaurant good if you were pleased with the food.

“Alright.” Now, you were going to rate his. You could tell he was going to enjoy this.

“You hungry?”

You nodded.

With a snap of Chuuya’s fingers, you immediately heard footsteps scurrying toward the two of you.

Two young men, one with raven hair until silver tips and the other with an entirely silver head—you realized they were waiters from who knows where—approached you with a dish.

“Appetizers by Executive Nakahara,” the first one said.

“Wait—did you cook everything too?”

“Duuh, you take this for a fraud or something?” Chuuya failed to hide the pride on his face.

…

The appetizer, entrée, and dessert proved delicious, and you were forced to eat your previous words.

He was talented in just about everything.

Chuuya kicked the two ‘waiters’ out of his house after dessert was served, leaving the two of you finally alone. The candlelight amid the dark sky enveloped your figures in an intimate glow.

“I would’ve been fine with even just takeout,” you laughed after taking a sip out of your wine glass.

He smiled. “As if. It’s a special night, doll, we finally have time to see each other again.”

“Exactly! Seeing you is what matters most,” you said.

“Anyway, thank you, Chuu. I appreciate this so much. And I guess you’re right—you earn a Michelin Star from me.”

Chuuya looked towards the city below you and back. “Didn’t doubt it one bit. But that’s not the only stars we’re getting tonight.”

You looked puzzled. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t get shocked.”

Your lover snapped again—you picked up a slight difference in it this time compared to the previous times he signaled—and suddenly, Yokohama went dark.

You didn’t know how, but the city’s electricity had completely cut off at the mafia executive’s command.

“Chuu—?”

“You’re not looking the right way.”

You had been staring at the pitch-black buildings below in fazed awe, but it seemed to have switched places with the skies as now, small scattered lights began to fade in when you looked up, your eyes adjusting to the dark.

“Chuu!” You stood up in excitement. “We can see stars! In Yokohama!”

The ginger chuckled before pulling out a folded comforter from under the table. “Here, it’s better this way. Now this is what the wine was really for.”

…

Chuuya had fixed the comforter on the rooftop and pulled out a few pillows so that you were able to lie down and watch above more comfortably.

“I did this a lot when I stayed in Paris for a bit,” he said, explaining how he got the idea. “But the lights stayed on 24/7 there, too, so I had to use a telescope.”

You looked at him thoughtfully. “We could’ve done that too. You really startled everyone just for this.”

As if on cue, you suddenly heard someone shout in the distance, going “Hey! Who the hell turned off all the lights?!” You and Chuuya both snorted.

“Just for you,” he corrected. “I think this is better anyway. They can handle one night without power. And I made sure the hospitals and other important establishments stayed untouched.”

It was crazy how much power the man had. “Not entirely evil then,” you said.

“Yeah, plus I was also really aiming at that restaurant that tried ruining our plans,” Chuuya smirked.

You looked back at the stars and then Chuuya again, who hadn’t taken his cerulean eyes off your face.

You lay together to gaze at the stars. But instead of those, he was looking at you.

You couldn’t stop the flurry of coyness you got. He looked absolutely stunning under the heavens—it was almost unfair. It would be if you weren’t the one who got to see him in such a state. He looked mesmerized—mesmerized with you?

“Hey, you’re going to miss it if you keep staring at me,” you said.

“I’m seeing you and those galaxies for the first time in a while,” Chuuya replied. “I think I’d rather watch you.”

He kissed you while you were still smiling, causing him to grin, too. You felt light and safe around him and the blankets, and he felt the same. All aggression and stress ceased from his head, healed by you and the moonlight.

“Y’can name stars after people too, right?” he asked when you pulled back. “I swear, I’m going to make the next scientist who discovers one name it after you. It’d be way better than those random shitty names they give nowadays.”

FYODOR : i have the cosmos mapped out, likewise your soul. — you alone, he adores.

There was not a word said as you got into the passenger seat of the car that Fyodor was driving. He had left a note earlier that day—Zolotse, you’re coming with me on a mission tonight. Prepare what you need and bring the sleeping bags, and you had done so with little hesitation.

The sun had already gone down, but you were used to this. Initially, you had thought his job the opposite of himself—the demon was called to bizarre places sporadically and had to adapt to their settings in a short amount of time. You only realized after being with him for a while that he planned these things beforehand, and he planned them long ago.

The job was made for him—his little game of fate and chess.

He drove for around four hours straight. In that time, you had put on your favorite music, and talked with him about the usual—your latest philosophical obsession, anything interesting about his latest endeavors—you hadn’t realized you had gotten so far away from civilization.

Fyodor must’ve become nocturnal from all the time he’d spent in the dark, because it was pitch-black in all directions when he finally parked the car and you stepped out.

And only then you finally asked him. “Fedya, where are we?”

He didn’t respond, instead going to the back of the car and opening the trunk, handing you your sleeping bag and a flashlight.

You flipped the switch on, trying to scan the surroundings for any hint of where this journey took you.

“Darling, you’re quite naïve,” Fyodor said as you looked down at rocks and twigs below your shoes. “I’m concerned about how easily you agreed to let someone drive you hours out into the wilderness.”

“I’d do it only for you,” you replied, giggling. “I trust you.” Alas, he had answered your question, though you still didn’t know what he was here for.

“Follow me. We have a bit of hiking to do.”

…

A secret hideout? Meeting spot? Something valuable hidden here? Your mind came up with countless reasons why your lover’s current mission took place on a mountain and how he could even navigate without a map. The entire thing was strange—you hadn’t even seen him take any valuables of some kind besides a tent and his own sleeping bag.

The walk-up was a bit tedious. Thankfully, you wore the right shoes and had eaten well beforehand, but you still didn’t expect you would be partaking in exercise so late at night. It was also hard to see, the flashlights scarcely making a difference.

You came across a very steep hill; it was almost like you had to climb rather than hike up.

“Apologies for the inconvenience,” you heard Fyodor from above as he went first to ensure each step was safe. “It’ll be worth it later.”

“Ah-” You hardly had time to ponder his statement when you misstepped on a loose twig, causing you to slip. However, a hand reached to tightly grab you before you slid down.

“Careful, milaya.”

Fyodor kept your hand clasped in his throughout the rest of the trek. You finally reached a large clearing by the edge of a cliff—devoid of trees and hard bedrock.

“We’re here.”

He began setting up the tent while you looked around. There was nothing at all out of the ordinary—nothing suspicious for the demon to use. Were you really here just to camp?

“The goal: your eyes to adjust.”

Fyodor had finished and had been looking at you for some time—smiling, at the way your brows furrowed and how you were still lost with this entire night.

“What-?” you asked as he walked over to take your sleeping bag. You followed him as he set it right next to his.

“Sit next to me, lyubov,” he said, guiding you down. “I’ll tell you the secret to getting directions up here.”

He tilted his head up, and for the first time, you noticed an entire galaxy before you.

…

Drenched under the vastness of the dark skies and lights of the stars, Fyodor began to speak.

“We’ve used star navigation for thousands of years,” he said. “Fifty-eight stars and thirty-eight constellations that we’re able to use, but you only need to locate the Ursa Major to find north and Orion to find west.”

You nodded. Perhaps this is what he had come here to do—find directions to something that no GPS or technology recorded. He had probably taken you along just because he thought you’d admire the view and how you did. Fyodor was right—the walk-up was worth this view.

It was like you were in a trance. You had seen stars, but nothing like this before. The entire Milky Way galaxy was visible to your eyes, countless little suns that seemed barely out of your grasp, even though they were millions of miles away.

“Fedya, how many of them do you recognize by name?”

“By now, I have them all memorized because I’ve found it helpful. If an apocalypse surged the earth, they would still be there. If the world ended, they would still be there. The cosmos remain untouched by us—they watch humanity dance from afar. The nomads knew this the best—when we traveled, we relied on nothing but nature.”

You wondered how many body transfers it took for him to retain them all. There were so many little lights in the sky, it seemed near impossible to be able to gather even half in a mind’s jar. You guessed tens of years at the least, and even with that time, you knew only he could do it.

“You commend them too, don’t you?” you spoke, taking a risk in guessing his views.

“Elaborate for me.” You made eye contact with him, and amethyst eyes fawned over by the night almost enticed you even more than the entire view of the universe afore you.

“You appreciate them, and everything else that lays on the earth after the sun sets because they hold no flaw. They aren’t blemished by the foolishness of people.

“You can be at peace with them because they are perfect, unlike us.”

“You’re right. The perfect mankind would be as pure as the sun and the stars—untainted by something as unnatural as abilities. That’s how I see it, but why group yourself in such faults?”

“Hm?” was the only sound you were able to get out, when he grazed his fingers along your face, cupping your cheek.

“Printsessa, you are perfect.” He spoke smoothly, rich accent making his words sound like a lullaby.

“Your soul dances with the kosmos. Something so divine—you are the harmony of something as beautiful as what we see tonight.

“You are the only one who matches the heavens; my love, you surpass the heavens.”

He captured your lips in a kiss, and you only registered then that it was you two alone. It felt like you two were the only ones in the world with the witnesses to your love being the ends of the horizons, and that the universe who put on a show in the sky instead turned to watch you.

…

“Fedya…what was the mission?” you asked softly as you cuddled with him, your hands reaching for his silky hair as you lay on his chest.

You felt his smile. “You’re still so naïve, darling; you didn’t have to think so much. The mission was to bring you here. It’s been a while since we’ve gone out, has it not?”

SIGMA : i’ve never seen it before! (the aurora borealis) — he learns what love is through you.

“Sigma, baby, let’s go!”

The man had a slightly puzzled face as he let you eagerly lead him outside, past your home’s backyard—into the hills beyond. Other than the Sky Casino, it was your favorite spot, especially when you wanted some peace away from the rest of humanity and its industry.

Your lover was utterly confused why you made sure he did not fall asleep this evening. He always went to bed far earlier than you and rose while you were still lost in dream—perhaps snoring—but tonight you insisted.

And Sigma followed, even though he was at the verge of passing out from exhaustion��managing a casino was hard. He let you take his hand and direct him, even without a clue of where you were going.

Maybe that was what love was—blindly following another.

“I have a surprise.” You slightly turned your head back to look at him, and he swore he would remember this scene forever. His hand still clasped around yours, the warm glow of the back porch’s bistro lights cast upon your face, and your sweet smile—though it was dark outside, he felt that your smile lit up his world more than all the stars combined in the night sky.

The cosmos were a new thing for him. You had introduced watching the stars to him, in this special place beyond your backyard.

Immediately after his first time learning what the Big Dipper was, and that the little lights in the sky were actually much farther than they seemed, he called for a viewing deck to be created for the Sky Casino.

That way, even on nights away from you and home, he could still gaze at the same stars, and for you as well if you wanted to visit.

“Are we stargazing?” Sigma asked as you ran up one of the hills with him. He held a chuckle to himself. You didn’t bother to change out of your pajamas. You were so cute.

“It’s a little different this time,” you giggled, setting down a blanket for the two of you to sit. Before, you would bring foldable chairs, but you realized that they made it a bit difficult for you to cling onto Sigma when you wanted to cuddle with him.

“We should start to see it in just a few minutes,” you said, looking up.

“Okay…”

The stars were there as usual. Sigma had never thought that something as pretty as your heart could exist in something physical, but that was how he saw those small lights in the sky.

If only you knew that whenever you decided to talk about how beautiful the skies were at night, he wanted to say they were literally just a reflection of you.

As soon as the clock on your watch hit the next hour, you immediately grabbed Sigma’s arm in enthusiasm.

Now he was really starting to wonder what got you so jumpy.

“Hey! Do you see it?!”

Sigma caught himself so distracted by you that he was watching your face instead of where your eyes were looking at.

He blushed when you looked at him, but thankfully you remained oblivious to his embarrassment.

“The green light! Do you see it?”

Sigma looked up, and he saw what looked like sliver of green contrast the dusky sky.

“That’s natural,” you began to explain. “It works through the earth’s magnetic field colliding with the atmosphere.

“Watch how it dances.”

A show started to unfold before the two of you. Sigma watched as the small touch of light became even brighter, transforming into a ribbon. He watched as the ribbon began to travel across the sky, overtaking the darkness. He watched in awe as it was joined by another green stream, traversing the horizons together.

“Wow,” you both said in awe.

“It’s called the aurora borealis,” you spoke.

“You can see it regularly if you travel way up north, but it’s a rare event here.

“I wanted to experience it with you.”

Sigma turned to look back at you, butterflies in his tummy and a surge of warmth overflowing his heart when he met your face—cheeks glowing from the reflection of the chasma and your eyes full of adoration.

“With me?” Sigma asked.

“Of course,” you replied, pulling him up. “Look Sigma—a new color joined.”

He glanced up, seeing that a new hue had appeared, aligning itself with the green. A pinkish light had mixed itself in, creating a swirl of paints on the sky’s pallete.

It really seemed like the lights were dancing. And Sigma thought to himself—like me and her.

You seemed to have the same idea because you had taken his hands in yours and started to whirl him around. It was messy—a bit chaotic, but he let himself be dragged along for a bit until he got dizzy, because maybe love was blindly following someone.

Eventually, Sigma started laughing, and couldn’t be thrown around any longer. “Calm down, love!” He took control of the dance, guiding your steps so that it turned into a more organized waltz.

He became captivated when he twirled you around—even though you were in your pajamas, you couldn’t look any less beautiful. He had danced with you in ballrooms, in gardens, but this unrehearsed night was the most enchanting of all.

…

You two danced until your feet started to hurt and Sigma’s exhaustion finally got the best of him. Now, you lay together, watching the rest of the night’s act play out.

“Whenever I look at the nebulas, I only think of you now, you know,” you confessed. “Because even if you’re up there, and I’m down on earth, we’re still looking at the same stars together.”

“I think the same,” Sigma replied. “It’s like we’re always connected in some way.”

You nodded with a smile, but you realized Sigma wasn’t finished yet.

“Actually, it’s more than that. I can only think of you when I see those things because all beauty leads back to you. I see your kindness in the sun and your energy in these colorful lights. I see your perseverance in the moon and most importantly, how many hearts you’ve made shine in the stars.

“And whatever ends up the brightest at night is mine, because you’ve warmed my heart the most.”

Your own heart was beating fast, by how your lover had spoken so tenderly to you and by the way he had rolled over towards you so that he was so close now—his lips just shy of yours.

“Sigma,” you whispered, and then you pulled him into a kiss.

It was then he finally understood: love wasn’t about blindly following another, he followed you because you were a blessing of trust, carrying the stars of devotion on your hands.

i heard if you rb, u’ll be able to watch the stars w/ ur fav tn !! reblogs are cherished; they are what support me the most. <3

this fic wouldn’t have ever seen the light, weren’t for @cheriiyaya (hi); thank u bby for encouraging me start to finish. <3 a lil prompt inspo for dazai & fyodor from her. ^_^

p.s. did i imply a past!love triangle in dazai’s scenario? yes. was i referring to the fyozai ‘til death we do art love triangle? maybe..! actually, for some rzn, i included many things here that foreshadow other fics coming soon. stay tuned :)

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klarolinexluv · 5 months ago

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After my little rant earlier, I was thinking about it about more and I’ve just had the thought that some people like to erase the fact that Regulus CANONICALLY changed his mind.

In canon, we know so little about Regulus. We know he is Sirius’ younger brother, Walburga and Orions son, Bellatrix, Narcissa and Andromedas younger cousin. We know that he became a death eater at the age of 16. We know that he was quite close with Kreacher, or had some sort of special bond with him. We know that at 17 or 18 in 1979 he made the decision to GO AGAINST VOLDEMORT. We know that he CANONICALLY chose to go to the cave, with the knowledge of what Voldemort had done, we know that he knew about the horcrux, he CANONICALLY, again, CANONICALLY, sacrificed his life to try and stop Voldemort.

“Oh but he only did it because Voldemort hurt his house elf.” Shut the fuck up, yes that may have been a contending reason but we don’t actually know his reasonings for anything. He could have been having doubts since the very beginning, he could have been disgusted with what happened with Kreacher, he could have done nothing after that, but no he went on to research, he discovered Voldemort had made a horcrux, he could have DONE NOTHING BUT HE DIDNT.

We know so LITTLE about Regulus Black but the biggest thing we know about him, the most important thing we know about him is that at the end of his life he changed his mind, KREACHER EVEN SAYS ITS “Master Regulus changed his mind, but he doesn’t seem to have explained that to Kreacher, does he?” LIKE OMG HE CHANGED HIS MIND. He didn’t want to be a death eater anymore. HE CHANGED HIS MIND AND THEN DID SOMETHING ABOUT WHAT HE DISCOVERED. He went to that fucking cave, drank the drink of despair, stole the horcrux, replaced it with a fake and then ordered Kreacher to destroy it, to leave without him.

Yes, this was a suicide mission, we all know that but at the end of the day, Regulus sacrificed his life in an attempt to to destroy a horcrux, to stop Voldemort. People are always forgetting that, and I’m so over it.

If you want to call me pro-fascist for supporting Regulus when canonically he betrayed Voldemort than for fuck sake do it, it doesn’t change the fact that I am not, that Regulus actively worked against the dark lord JUST LIKE JAMES OR SIRIUS OR REMUS, etc. I will always love Regulus no matter what and I don’t give a shit what names you call me because I know the truth, I know who I am, I know that you are just trying to put me down in an attempt to make yourself seem better.

PEOPLE ALSO SEEM TO FORGET THAT REGULUS AND SIRIUS GREW UP IN THE SAME HOUSE. Sirius had a support system, CANONICALLY, Regulus did not.

Anyway… I rest my case.

#marauders #regulus black #black brothers

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julietsbody · 9 months ago

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CALIGULA — luke castellan + reader : luke castellan, in all his reign, has a love for sexual pleasure, more importantly with you.

tags: mdni, inspired by ancient roman stories, luke is a pervert, dark!luke, p in v sex, jealousy, possessiveness, assistant!reader, captain!luke, luke is an awful man in this sawry

a/n: ive been binge watching the roman empire show

LONG LIVE THE EMPEROR.

41 AD.

luke castellan can’t deny how harsh of a captain he was on the princess andromeda.

he wanted to be the best captain on the sea, wanted to get his revenge on camp halfblood and the gods, wanted to live the lavish life he had always dreamed of. he thought of a life where he would drink red wine out of chalices, be fed grapes from the hands of beautiful women, or men, he wanted to be treated like a god— because in his mind, he would be the best god to ever exist.

you started out as his assistant, writing papers for him on a simple typewriter that he gave to you, a fucking typewriter. you tried to remind him it was no longer the 1950s, he scoffed like you were stupid. “you know people used them in the 1800s, right?”

your lips press together, looking at him, then the typewriter, then back to him. you offer a small smile, and he doesn’t return it, he never does, and he never will. luke took things very seriously, maybe too seriously, so he never let himself smile, let alone laugh, a bitter scoff was all you’d get from him at most.

you were pliant, luke noticed, and he liked that. you did everything he asked, every time he asked. he’d call your name, and hear your heels clicking against the wooden floorboards no less than a second later. speaking of heels, luke was strict about dress codes, too.

to call him a pervert.. well, you wouldn’t be far off.

he wanted you to wear things like tight pencil skirts, short or long, thin tights, maybe even solely stockings, stiletto heels that he’d purchased for you the second he saw you show up in mary janes, and a simple shirt or blouse. he liked glasses, too, thin, square framed ones, like bayonetta’s.

you had to wear dark red lipstick, regardless.

you hated your boss, more than anything, the way he’d walk into a room and easily command it, the way his body language reeked of cockiness, the way that despite all evilness, he still thought he was doing something for the greater good.

what you hated the most, is how much you fantasized about him.

that’s why you always ran to him so quick when he called out for you, why you endured the loud clacking of the typewriter keys even when you had to do a paper at night and he opened your door to yell at you to ‘shut the fuck up or get thrown off the damn boat.’

he was never a good man, nor a good boss, but he looked good.

you liked when he was angry, when he yelled at you, when he held your jaw so tight you were sure he’d shatter it and spit degrading words at you like you were vile. it should be such a shame that you enjoy it, but you don’t pity yourself one bit. he was meaner with you, he always cracked awful jokes with the rest of the crew, drank beers with them, lit their cigarettes, but you, you were the person he took all his anger out on.

well, at first it was anger.

then he began to ever so slowly show his desires for sexual connections. he was able to hold it in at first, act like he wasn’t missing having sex, like he wasn’t missing the simple touch of a woman or man. masturbating wasn’t keeping him sane for long, not when he didn’t have anything to masturbate to. then he began to focus his attention onto you.

you were attractive, and luke couldn’t hold back how his short glances turned to stares. his jaw ticks, lips parting, “i want you to wear shorter skirts.”

“mini skirts?” you blink at him, he had called you to his office, and his eyes were traveling over your body every second he got.

“yeah,” he pauses, “and lower cut shirts.”

before your lips can even part, he dismisses you, and bluntly stares at your ass when you walk away. it was so ironic, luke used to be such a virgin, a complete loser, but now he was nothing short of the opposite. he was cocky, he knew he was handsome, he knew people were attracted to him easily, mostly sexually.

if luke was lucky, at some stops, he might be able to bring back a few women or men home with him, they always gawked at the ship, told him how cool it is that he has a boat, that he’s a captain, and has a crew, that everyone does everything for him.

they thought it was hot, so they wanted to do things for him to, he’d take them to his quarters, and provide them with red wine before moaning could be heard all throughout the ship.

but his boat was in the middle of the sea, and has been for a month or so now, and he felt like he was going insane.

𝜗𝜚 ⊹ ‧₊˚ 🍷

luke was struggling to sleep, insomnia was getting the best of him, he thought that if he drank more and more wine, he would eventually wind down. he never did. he only got slopper, and aroused. the worst mix on nights like these was the bubbling frustration that he didn’t have anything to fuck, and the fact that he wanted to fuck something so bad.

his dick strains in his boxers, and his teeth grit together, mentally cursing himself for continuously offering himself one more drink, after the third glass, knowing he’d have a fourth, and a fifth. he’d drank the whole bottle, and he wasn’t even close to tired.

his body feels warm, so warm. you come to his mind almost immediately, making his his hands draw closer to the hem of his boxers. the way your ass looks in those skirts, the stockings that meet at the middle of your thigh, the sheer shirts that barely showed the color of your bra, the slight cleavage you show when leaning over to place paperwork on his desk.

he recalls the one time he had came into your room in the dead of night in search of a document, but he was immediately met with the floral of your perfume, and the way your blanket barely covered your naked form. he shouldn’t look, really, he should shy away and close the door, but he swallows thick seeing your breast, the slight parting of your legs, the way your cunt barely peeks out the messily moved blanket.

he wouldn’t have actually done it, of course, because he’s a respectable man who puts consent above all else— but he wonders what it would look like if he pushed your legs apart, moved the blanket, and spread your pussy open for him. to be sleeping naked, how scandalous. he’d never know that you purposefully put the document in your room when you knew you wanted it, you purposefully slept naked, you purposefully moved the blanket in those ‘messy’ ways.

he inhales sharply, fingers moving underneath the fabric of his boxers to graze over his cock. it’s so perverted, to think of you like this, to imagine pulling you onto his lap the next time you come into his office, fingers gripping your skin the same way they grip his cock now. you’d probably melt into his touch, so innocent, so pliant, your doe eyes staring at him like he’s the only man who had ever existed, like he’s a god. and that’s what he is, a captain, an emperor, a god.

he thinks of himself, and is immediately reminded of caligula.

the roman emperor in 31 AD, he was described by some as a tyrant, but in the beginning, he was one of the best leaders in ancient rome. he was just like luke, addicted to sexual acts, wanting all the finest things in life, and the worst part— luke was just as paranoid as him.

but that was of no worry now, he was too focused on the pleasure that coursed underneath his flesh, or the simple thought of pushing his dick into your cunt, making your eyes roll back with pleasure you’d only ever dreamed of. luke knew he could make you feel good, and eventually he would. he imagined all the positions he would push you into, on your back, on your stomach with your ass up, having you ride him— gods.

he wondered if whenever you tried to make excuses for being far too late at typing up a paper in time, he could just simply have you on your knees for him, fucking your mouth so you’d shut up. bruising your lips, ruining your lipstick, making you cry, all of those thoughts sends luke over the edge in no less than a minute or two.

his skin is sticky with sweat, fingers coated in his own cum, but all he wants is more.

𝜗𝜚 ⊹ ‧₊˚ 🍷

like mentioned before, luke had a madness problem.

ever since he had been cast out, he had this odd paranoia problem, he thought the gods would strike him down at any second, that they were watching his every move, or that percy jackson would find his way to his ship and kill him himself for all the damage he’s caused.

the lack of sex wasn’t the only thing driving luke mad, it was the cage of his own mind. the fact that he’s surrounded by the very thing that the man who’s responsible for percy’s existence owns, the sea. it all makes him sick, often times there will be crashing from his quarters in the late of night, but it always stopped as soon as it started.

this night was different, it just kept going. first something being pushed over, then the breaking of glass, more crashing, more shatters, yelling, some screaming— it was a nightmare. some of the crew woke up, but you were the only one who dared to take a step out onto the deck that night, let alone approach his quarters.

knock. knock. knock.

no response, a deafening silence underneath the crashing waves and the crackling of the candle in your hand.

knock. knock.

the lack of response is worrying. he almost always responds, either it’s to tell you to fuck off, or to come in. but now, nothing. he couldn’t have hurt himself, could he? you test the waters, fingers curling around the doorknob and turning it with the expectation for it to be locked as it always is.

it was unlocked. you push the door open, glancing in to see the mess that he had made of his own room, and him just simply sitting on his bed with his head in his hands. “luke?”

“captain,” he immediately mumbles out, a correction.

“captain,” you repeat, taking a step further inside, he has offered nothing against you being inside of his quarters. you are typically never allowed in here. you move to close the door behind you, placing the candle into the nearest holder that wasn’t completely destroyed.

you turn back to him, his head was raised to look at you, arms now lazily splayed onto his spread legs in his sitting position. he was a chronic manspreader, something you noticed, but seeing him faintly hunched over pathetically like this, tired eyes staring at you, sweat beading at his temple— he was so hot.

“are you okay?” you offer, voice as sweet as ever.

“am i okay?” he scoffs, a chuckle following after, he’s never chuckled in front of you before, “am i okay, am i okay—“ he hums, “what do you think, hm? you think i’m okay?”

his voice is confronting and harsh, like he wants to see you cower down, like he wants to break you like all the other things in his room. your brows furrow together for a second, “no..?”

“no, no, atta girl— you’re catchin’ on,” he smiles at you for the first time, “why don’t you help me feel better, yeah?”

you stare at him for a second, wondering if he meant what you thought he meant, “yeah.”

“yeah.” his voice is hushed, almost mocking, “c’mere.”

you immediately walk over to him in the ambient lighting, marking out your silhouette, stepping over all the things he’s knocked over. a grin tugs at his lips, cruel and cocky, he loves how easy you do anything he asks. his hand is gentle on your waist, pulling you closer, “so good for me.”

you nod at him, letting his hand guide you down to your knees, pupils dilated up at him so perfectly. his tongue swipes along the backside of his teeth, moving his hand to hold your jaw, tilting your head to properly look up at him. maybe it was wrong to fuck his assistant, someone working for him, but it just felt so right, all of this felt like it was in the prophecy.

his thumb swipes along your bottom lip, smearing the red lipstick there, of course you put that on before coming to his room. “so pretty,” he mumbles under his breath, dipping his finger between your lips and into your mouth. your lips curve up ever so slightly, leaning into his touch, lips closing around his flesh.

he takes it away from your mouth just as quick as it was slotted between your lips, moving to undo his belt, the veins in his hands shifted with each movement of his hands, first it was his belt, then his pants, then his boxers.

you always thought luke would have a big dick, he just has that certain cockiness that makes you think he couldn’t have a small dick and be acting the way he is, but this felt like it would hardly fit in your mouth.

you glance up at him, his amused stare which immediately turns to faux concern when you say, “i don’t think it’ll fit—“

“it will,” he immediately cuts in, prying your mouth open with his thumb whilst his free hand eases your head closer, “i’ll make it fit.”

your tongue runs along the vein at the bottom of his dick, already feeling the heaviness of it against the muscle in your mouth. you had sucked a few dicks before, sure, but this one was the biggest, and the cleanest. his hand holds your jaw when you start taking him into your mouth properly, tongue flat against the bottom of his cock, eyes peering up at him through heavy lids.

his lashes flutter pathetically, mouth falling open with your every movement, the way the saliva from your mouth coats him perfectly— he needed this. it felt like a dream coming right after a nightmare, he was exhausted, sweating from his breakdown, and you were sent to him right when he needed it, an angel on his shoulder.

but you’re going too slow, and luke’s growing restless from sitting so still. he can feel the ache of your jaw, but he wishes to make it worse somehow, as cruel as it sounds. his hand moves to the back of your head, hips ever so slowly bucking into your mouth, it was barely noticeable at first, until the sound of you sputtering and gagging around him fueled him more.

his thrusts quickly turned harsh, bruising, merciless.

he only paused when you slapped at his thigh pathetically, moving off to pant heavily, strings of saliva connecting your lips to his cock. you looked so messy, so pathetic, lipstick smeared, eyes puffy from falling tears. “always wanted this, huh? i notice how you look at me, always running to my office any chance you get, such a slut.”

you nod at him, and that only makes him want to say more, “do you believe in god?”

“yes, yes,” the response is immediate.

“am i your god?”

you pause at him, processing, what would the best answer be?

yes, of course, that would be the best answer. in luke’s own mind, all this misery, all this destruction, all this betrayal, it was only the start of his story to reach the top. when caligula was next in line for the throne and his father was on his deathbed, he killed his own father with hardly any hesitation, then became one of the most memorable roman emperors alongside julius caesar.

luke had been planning the murder of hermes for a long, long time, ever since the first book about caligula he read. killing percy jackson was a failure, all several times, so he had no other choice than to just shoot for the stars.

luke’s eyes refocus onto the situation at hand rather than being stuck in his own mind, he had you pushed on your stomach with your ass up, the position he always wished to put you in, the position he’s put multiple other women and men in.

his hands smooth over your ass, memorizing the canvas that he wants to splatter paint over. there’s something so intimate about this whole ordeal, the dim lighting of sole candles in all the destruction around his room, the crashing of waves on the sides of the boat as it moves through the sea, the red wine that luke drinks from the bottle he had just picked up.

he hums at the taste, rich, perfect. “want some?”

you shake your head, and he tuts in faux disappointment, “no fun, aren’t you? just want me to fuck you? needy, needy.”

albeit his degrations, his tip presses to your entrance, lips pressing together when he pushes in— holy fuck, you were tight. luke’s breathing is ragged, he feels as though your pussy is desperately trying to squeeze an orgasm out of him in seconds. it only worsens when you accidentally glench, making his teeth grit together, he coughs out a bitter chuckle, “you did that on purpose, didn’t you?”

“no, nono—“ it was too late for the begging for forgiveness, his thrusts were already brutal, slamming into you without a single regard for how much pain it would leave you in, in the morning. caligula was a possessive lover, a harsh fucker, a man ruled by jealousy and madness— luke castellan was born from the same map of caligula.

his hands grip your hips harshly, punching out sweet moans from your bitten lips with every thrust, “fuck, fuck! luke!”

luke’s tongue prods at the inside of his cheek for a mere second before his hand suddenly moves to the back of your head, harshly tugging your hair back, “captain.”

another correction.

as soon as your back hits his chest, his hand moves from your hair to your neck, gripping the delicate skin there tight. he ignores your attempts to get his attention by placing sloppy, open mouthed kisses to his jaw, leaving his skin stained with your lipstick. his eyes were too focused on the mirror placed in front of him, of course he had one there, it was cracked, but he was still able to make out the way your skin trembled underneath him, the way his thrusts sent shivers up your spine, the way he easily made you cock drunk.

it didn’t take long for him to have you cumming on him as well, in which he followed soon after with a gritted out fuck.

luke’s eyes may be glazed over when he looks back in the mirror, but he doesn’t see himself in his position, he sees caligula.

#luke castellan #luke castellan x you #luke castellan blurb #luke castellan smut #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan pjo #luke castellan oneshot #pjo luke #charlie bushnell imagine #charlie bushnell x reader #charlie bushnell x you #charlie bushnell #charlie bushnell smut

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taylorman2274 · 7 months ago

Text

We Care About You (Epilogue)

A week after bonding with the Traveler, you log back into Genshin and find that a lot has changed since your last time playing.

Content Warning(s): N/A

Notes: SAGAU; GN!Reader;

Word Count: 1.6k

Previous || Next

Taglist: @silverstarred; @victoria1676; @angelofdarkness2; @areaderspov; @andromeda-gay; @ash1; @mercy-not-merci; @toodledoodl3; @jellyedkazoo; @namine123; @innuwu; @agaygothicmushroom; @tired-of-life-86; @fantasyhopperhea; @sweetsourbxtch; @zenith-of-all-zeniths; @velleunv; @creativecupcake; @obsoletedeviant;

---------------------------------------------------------

"Something is wrong..."

Wait. No. That's not the word you should be using.

"Something is different..."

These were the thoughts rummaging through your head as you stared at the door to Teyvat on your computer. Everything up to that point had gone smoothly compared to all the previous times you logged on.

This time, however, you noticed that the time it took the game to get ready was noticeably quicker than usual. Like really quickly. Like almost instantaneous.

Like you didn't even have time to check the notifications on your phone. It was as quick as someone snapping their fingers.

"Not that I'm complaining. All the better!" you happily exclaimed, clicking on the screen and opening the door to Teyvat.

Thinking that this loading screen would last around the same time as before, you looked away from the computer towards your phone with the intent of checking on any new notifications that may have popped up. However, the outdoor ambiance of Teyvat quickly traveled to your ears, signaling that the loading screen came and went just as quickly as the one from earlier.

"Again? How?" you questioned, turning your attention back towards your computer screen. "Why is my computer suddenly able t-"

...

"...What..."

You could immediately tell that you were in Mondstadt given that you were standing in front of the Barbados statue. But that doesn't make any sense. You logged off at Liyue the last time you played Genshin.

"...The..."

Additionally, the plaza looked much more lively than normal. You've never seen more than ten people occupy the area at one time. But this time, it looked like you were standing in the center of a heavily populated city. People were walking, running, praying, and making conversation. But to top it all off...

...They all looked so real that you almost forgot you were playing a video game.

"...Hell?..."

You moved the camera around to view as much of the plaza as you could, but you quickly came to realize something important.

"Wait... Where's my character?"

Given how much time you've spent playing Genshin, you feel a bit embarrassed that you didn't immediately notice the lack of a player character in the bottom center of your screen.

But now is not the time for such feelings! You've got questions to answer.

You tried looking for them in the crowd but found no sign of them. You turned to the left but yielded the same results. You turned to the left aga-.

"HIYA [Y/N]!!!"

"JESUS!!"

The sudden shout jump scares you so badly that you instinctively lurch backward in your chair. The cord from your headphones was pulled off your head from how far you flung your head back. The cord was also responsible for shifting your computer awry.

You quickly leaned forward and brought a hand to the computer to prevent it from falling off your desk. In doing so, you also got a glimpse of what was shown on your computer screen.

Paimon had both her hands over her mouth, suggesting that she was the one who shouted in your face. Her eyes were dilated, looking frantically all around her. The Traveler was frozen in place behind her, their right arm stretched out towards Paimon.

"Uhhhh, [Y/N]?" Paimon quietly spoke up. "Are you okay?"

Given how clearly you heard Paimon from your headphones on the floor, you figured that part of the reason why you got so scared was because of how loud Paimon was.

Grabbing your headphones, you adjusted the volume before putting them back on.

"I'm alright," you assured her. "I just wasn't expecting that."

Your assurance worked as Paimon began smiling again. "Good! Paimon was worried that she accidentally scared you away again."

You softly chuckled. "Given how much I've been through already, it would take a lot more than that to scare me away."

Paimon happily nodded before flying back over to the Traveler. "Hey, [Y/N]," The Traveler greeted. "It's been a while hasn't it?"

"It has." you agree. "What's going on?"

The Traveler's smile grew. "Straight to the point, I see. In that case, I'll let you in on what Paimon and I have been looking into for the past couple of days."

You leaned back in your chair and propped your elbows on the armrests. You guessed that this was going to take a while to explain.

"Remember what I told you before we sent you back to your world?"

You thought back to that moment.

---------------------------------------------------------

"Do you mind doing a quick favor for me after we send you back to your world?" the Traveler asked.

You nodded. "Sure. What do you need me to do?"

"I need you to not come to Teyvat for a little while."

...

"...Huh?"

"I know it sounds weird but let me explain," the Traveler emphasized with a hand on their chest. "I'm planning on asking Albedo to see if he can strengthen the connection between our two worlds so that we don't have to communicate like this every time. Not only will it be easier, but I don't have to worry about anything going wrong with the summoning ritual."

You crossed your arms. "So why do I not need to log i-... excuse me, not come to Teyvat? That basically goes against the whole reason you summoned me here in the first place."

"I'm worried that any attempt to cross the gap will either damage or destroy the link we have so far. Additionally, Albedo works best when he's not distracted."

You shrugged your shoulders. "Fair enough. But when do you want me to come back?"

The Traveler switched to a thinking pose. "Give me a week at minimum. If nothing comes out of it, I'll summon you here again."

You nodded. "Okay, sounds good. Is that all?"

"That's all. Are you ready to head back now?"

You nodded again. Aether was quick to call Xiao's name and he arrived just a second later.

"Remember. One week from now." The Traveler reminded.

"I know, I know. I won't forget," you assured.

---------------------------------------------------------

"So you got it to work?"

The Traveler nodded. "I did. You should be able to see a noticeable difference from your previous visit."

"So that's what's happening..." you spoke in awe. "Everything looks so much more lively now! I'm even surprised that the computer I'm using can handle all of this."

"...Computer?" Paimon asked, confused.

"Sorry. It's the name of the device I use to get to Teyvat," you explained.

"Oh, THAT'S what its called!" Paimon exclaimed. "Interesting..."

You chuckled at her enthusiasm. "Yeah. I wish I could show you all how it works."

"Hopefully we'll be able to in the future," The Traveler butted in. "I'm happy with what we've accomplished so far, but I would be even happier if I could have you in Teyvat by my side constantly like Paimon."

You raised an eyebrow. "Doesn't Paimon literally disappear on the regular?"

"HEY! THAT'S NOT TRUE!"

... ... ...

"Oh wait..."

The Traveler laughed. "You know what I mean, [Y/N]."

"Hmph! You guys can make fun of Paimon all you want, but Paimon's been working on something as well!" She floated closer to you and pointed toward the top of your screen. "Go ahead and click on that button for Paimon, [Y/N]."

...

She was pointing at the wish button.

"You can see that?"

"Yep! Now Paimon's able to tell just what exactly you're doing at all times!"

Dear God, that sounds like a nightmare.

You clicked on the wish button. "You better not have done anyth-"

...

"WHAT HAPPENED TO MY PRIMOGEMS?????!!"

"Wait wait wait wait wait, don't panic!" Paimon frantically assured. "Having more is better, right?"

...

"...[Y/N]?"

"Shut it, Paimon. I'm checking my bank account for any suspicious purchases."

"Paimon did not steal any money from you! Paimon has no way of accessing them anyway!"

"Then why do I have..."

...

"DOES THAT SAY INFINITY????"

The Traveler could only rub the back of their head in embarrassment as their commotion attracted the attention of the majority of people passing by. After all, it wasn't all too common for a Seelie and a fairy to be shouting at each other.

"I don't get it..." you muttered. "There aren't any signs of fraud in my bank account."

"That's what I've been trying to tell you!" Paimon argued. "You should be more grateful. Paimon went through a lot to get those."

You sighed. Truly, Paimon was as unpredictable as ever. "You're right. You're right. Sorry."

"Apology accepted!" Paimon smiled. "Now, using your infinite supply of primogems, make a few wishes on one of the banners."

...How does Paimon understand what all of this is?

Regardless, you went ahead and wished for a ten-pull on the Standard Banner. There wasn't anyone or anything you were really aiming to pull on the character and weapon banners.

The animation played out as usual, the star starting out as blue before slowly turning into gold.

"Oh sweet! Thanks Paimon!"

"Don't thank Paimon just yet! There's plenty more where that came from~!"

The first wish flashed on the screen. "Jean! Finally, I got her!"

The second wish flashed on the screen. "Aquila Favonia?! Two golds back to back?! This is a moment in history! Take a picture!"

The third wish flashed on the screen...

...

...Another gold? That can't be right.

You're not one to judge your luck, but getting three gold items in a row sounds like a load of bull shit to you.

You pressed the skip button to see what the rest of the pulls looked like.

...

They were all gold.

"WHAT THE FUCK?!"

"I know right!" Paimon giggled excitedly. "Just wait until Paimon shows you the other banners!"

...

Paimon is going to get you banned by Hoyoverse, fan-fucking-tastic.

---------------------------------------------------------

THE END

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Author's Notes: Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, surprise?

I will be honest, I've had this idea in my head for a while. It honestly could be it's own one-shot if I wanted to, but I felt like it would fit better as an epilogue for my main series.

That being said, if you don’t like this ending or like the previous one better, then go ahead and treat that one as the de facto ending.

Thanks again for all who liked, reblogged, and/or commented on this little series. I appreciate each and every one of you!

More stories to come soon! ...Hopefully.

#genshin impact sagau #genshin sagau #self aware genshin #genshin self aware #sagau x reader #sagau #sagau genshin #platonic genshin x reader #platonic #gn reader #gender neutral reader #genshin impact

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nofingjustaninchident · 10 months ago

Text

⛧° will you be my prom date? - hoo boys °⛧

⛧° 。 ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆༺♱༻⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ 。°⛧

content: headcannons for my favorite boys of how they would ask you on a date!

warnings: cursing, non-estabilished relationship, slight sexual allusions (nothing too NSFW), friends with benefits, characters are all 18+,

a/n: i had this idea in the middle of portuguese class and i loved it so now i'm writing cause i'm independent MUAHAHAHA- jk jk i'm fine (questionable) annd i already started writing that fic i told u guys about... it'll be good, i hope

⛧° 。 ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆༺♱༻⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ 。°⛧

⛧Jason Grace

He does not know how to ask a girl out.

Like, he has no fucking clue on how to do that. You see, he's a perfectionist in absolutely everything in his life, and would be no less concerned with his girl. Who, by the way, is not his girl. 'Yet', he keeps telling himself that.

So, of course that he has to have the most perfect plan of all on how to ask you out to prom.

He'd do absolutely averything to make you feel safe and loved, so when you told him a few weeks before that the most expected experience of your school-life was THE prom, he took that as a subtle cue that you wanted him to invite you to go with him.

It indeed was, but you would never tell that to anyone.

Of course, the first person he thinks to go to is Piper, since she knows you and she's a daughter of Aphrodite. Especially because of that last one.

So of course she advises him on how she thinks it's the best way to invite you to prom.

One day, you had a evening date on top of the Zeus cabin - you both found a spot that you could throw some blankets and lay down together, watching the stars. It was almost on routine, but tonight he was very much anxious.

"Right there it's Andromeda. There, Orion and a little bit further down, right there, it's Pegasus." You say, pointing the constelations to him as you always did. But tonight, he wasn't staring at the night sky. He was staring at you.

How could you be so beautiful with those soft lips, those cute cheeks, that kissable nose, those always happy eyes... you were just too beautiful. And it was just amazingly cute how your eyes shined and your smile got even brighter when you were talking about something you liked.

So he decided to just fuck the whole plan up. Which was definetly something that the Normal Jason would ever do, but this was Madly-In-Love Jason. He'd do it, for you.

"You wanna go to prom with me? Like, as my date?" He'd ask you. You snapped your head towards him as if you hadn't heard it quite right.

"Um... what?" You asked, confused it he really meant what he just asked.

"Do. You. Want. To. Go. To. Prom. With. Me?" He asked pausedly, making sure you understood. You felt your cheeks burn bright red and a smile creep up your lips.

You leaned forwards and connected your lips in a soft and tender kiss, giving him the answer he needed. "Thought you'd never ask."

⛧° Percy Jackson

He only discovered that the prom was gonna happen one week before it did.

And that's when it clicks to him why you're being all weird and evasive, refusing his kisses, hugs and the 'i need you rn' texts.

Sure you were just friends with benefits, but still hurt you quite a lot that he didn't even bother to ask you to check if you were even going to the prom.

Little did you know he had no idea there was going to be a prom.

So when he texted you this morning with a ‘meet me at the aquarium in twenty.’ you considered ignoring him. But maybe he was finally going to apologize, you hoped.

The first thing you saw when you got to the aquarium that was the usual spot of your dates, he was there holding a bouquet of your favorite flowers. He wasn’t looking at you, instead he was looking at the mirror, fixing his… not messy hair?

That’s when you noticed. He was in a freaking tuxedo, which was a sight for sore eyes, his usually messy hair was all gelled up and he looked… even more handsome than usual.

When he looked at you, a smile immediately crept up his lips, and you were suddenly feeling weird in that old pair of jeans and a baby blue cropped. Still, he looked like he had never seen anything prettier than you.

“Hey, sweetheart.” He said and walked towards you, kissing your cheek softly. You smiled and blushed, forgetting for a moment that you were still mad at him. He handed you the flowers, which you took gratefully from his hands.

When you looked up at him again, he seemed… guilty about something. He wasn’t even looking at you in the eye when he sighed and pulled you close to him, hugging your body.

“I’m so sorry, y/n/n, i’m so, so sorry. I swear i didn’t know that the prom was coming, i just- i’m sorry for being such an airhead.” He said, giving multiple kisses to the top of your head.

“It’s ok. I’m not mad anymore.” You said, smiling at the boy in front of you. “How can i even be mad when you literally call me to an aquarium in which you are in a freaking tuxedo?” Your asked, kissing his lips softly.

“Really? You forgive me?” He asked, his eyes hopeful.

“Of course i do.” You said. Then, you raised one hand to his hair and muffled it, making all messy again. “And i prefer your hair in its normal rebel condition.”

He smiled as you walked towards the aquarium that you two had visited multiple times before. The place of your first kiss, the first holding hands, the first date…

But when you got near the fish tank, he asks you to stop and close your eyes, so that’s what you do.

Five minutes later, he comes back to your side and smiles, “You can open it now.”

And when you opened… well, all the fish in the tank were in a formation that said ‘Prom?’, and your smile instantly brightened. The boy next to you had the biggest smile ever seen on earth’s surface, and it was the cutest thing ever.

“Of course i’ll go to prom with you, dumbass.” You said, pulling him down by his collar and giving him a very passionate kiss.

⛧° Leo Valdez

He just let life tell him the right moment.

Literally, he couldn’t care less to whether you both were going to the prom or not. He just wanted to make you happy as always.

So when he discovered that you indeed wanted to go to prom, he made his life’s most important work until this day: a metal rose that, when you pressed a button to the side, opened to a message of ‘Do you wanna go to prom with me?’ that he knew you’d like.

He made it and triple checked it, just to be sure it’d work. It did work, but he couldn’t keep the thought that probably something was gonna be ruined with his bad luck.

So, one day, he was in bunker nine, covered in grease and soot, his hair messy and a little oiled up. He had just finished the rose-mission and was getting his stuff together before leaving to cabin nine so he could take a shower and change into clean clothes.

That’s until you ruined his plans and came in unexpectedly.

“Leo?” You asked, getting inside the hot bunker. Lots of projects were in the table, on the walls and even on the floor. Lots of weird materials that you didn’t quite know the name to were spread all over the place. It was actually cute.

“Mi amor, is it you?” He asked, leaving the shadows to a very smiley, pretty and happy you. He thanked the gods that he had taken the rose out of his work table before you got there.

“Yeah, it is. Whatcha doing?” You asked, sitting down in a pouf that you told him to put there, moths before.

“Just, uh… some weird Leo Valdez stuff, y’know.” He said, jokingly.

When he looked back at you, the tip of his nose caught fire. You were just… ethereal. Just sat there, looking around his work, hair pulled back in a messy braid, the small little pout that you always seemed to have in your lips…

He needed to do that right now.

Right now it’s the perfect moment.

Hell, every moment is the perfect moment. As long as it’s with you.

“Hey, princesa, i made something for you. I don’t know if you’ll like it, but, uh… yeah.” He said, getting closer and crouching down in front of you.

He took the metal rose out of his pocket and handed it to you. Your face immediately turned into a bright smile, grabbing the rose from his hand and pressing a kiss to his lips.

“Aw, honey, thank you! It’s so pretty!” You said, amazed by the beauty of the metal in front of you.

“Just, hm..” He said as he pressed a button in the back of the rose.

Thanks the gods, Tyche decided to be on his side today.

It occurred just right in the way he planned. The rose opened slowly, revealing a small little message. When you read it - with difficulty from the dyslexia -, your eyes watered.

You pulled him in for a hug, not caring it he was all greasy and sweaty and dirty. “Yes! Of course i will, babe!” She said, giving kisses all over his face.

“Te quiero, princesa.” He whispered and kissed you again.

⛧° Frank Zhang

He was nervous.

His hands were all sweaty and he wasn’t sure if you were going to accept the prom invite.

Fine, you were almost dating by now. But what if you stopped liking him? What if you found someone else? What if you hated him? What if-

Well, he was overthinking. A lot. And he just wished everything would go smoothly, and definitely not wrong. Nope. Anything is gonna go wrong here, folks.

You’re going to a little date dinner in the evening, you’ll can’t about your days and, in the end, he’ll ask you to be his prom date. Everything will be completely okay.

And at the beginning it really was. He got himself to calm down and was relatively fine, compared to earlier, and you just talked together at the beach, talking about your days.

The whole problem began when you mentioned the subject ‘prom’.

Oh, look at his hands getting all sweaty again.

He’s kind of scared, but he forces himself to ask you the question anyways.

“Hey, y/n, i was w-wondering if… if you-“ Before he got to finish, the boy got so nervous he transformed himself into a dog.

Why a dog, you ask? Because he remembered one day that you mentioned to him that dogs were your favorite animal on the world.

And he never forgets anything that you tell him about yourself.

But he got so, so embarrassed, thinking that he had ruined every chance that he had with you.

Little did he knew you just fell in love even more.

When he shifted back into his human form, you were still giggling, and he was super embarrassed about the situation.

“I’m sorry, i… i kinda shift when i got nervous..” He mumbled under his breath, looking at his hands.

You chuckled a little more and pulled him to you, giving him a kiss to the cheek. “It’s okay. Now, what were you gonna ask me?”

“Uh… do you… do you wanna go to prom with me?” He asked the question, and your smile just brightened. You kissed him in the lips now and felt him melting onto your lips.

“Of course, big guy.”

a/n: i kinda liked it???? like what. oh, thank you SO MUCH ALL OF YOU CAUSE I REACHED TWO HUNDRED AND FIFTY LIKES LIKE WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK??? LIKE, I MADE MY DIRST POST THREE DAYS AGO, TOPS!! Im just so proud and thankful, i love you all! my 24 besties 😭😭

#postcards from leah #jason grace #jason grace x reader #percy jackson #percy jackson x reader #leo valdez #leo valdez x reader #frank zhang #frank zhang x reader #heroes of olympus #pjo hoo toa #heroes of olympus x reader

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lives-between-lines · 2 months ago

Text

We gave our time to something undefined - poly!marauders x slytherin reader

─

Summary: Everyone is back from summer break and the rumor mill is buzzing about a certain Slytherin, can our favorite Marauders provide a bit of comfort during trying times?

Notes: I’m so sorry about how long this took! I honestly wasn’t sure where to go next with their story, so it took me a little fiddling but I’m happy with the direction I landed on and I hope you are too.

Tags: Angst, fluff, traumatized Slytherins, pureblood elitism, slightly mean!reader

Words: ~8.3k

p.1 p.2

─

I hated summer. It was too hot and there was too much down time stuck with my parents. Maybe if they let me actually visit my friends more, or leave the house for more than an hour at a time I could enjoy it. Maybe if I could have a hobby that was just for leisure and not something else that I had to dedicate countless hours to being perfect at I could have a bit of fun. Instead my summers were occupied with studying to get ahead for the next year, going to stuffy formal events where I recounted how well I did on each of my OWLs, and listening to my parents drone on about all the accomplishments of their friends’ kids.

One special cloud loomed over me as I stepped away from my parents at the train platform and toward a few months of freedom, but I shook it out of my head and focused on getting to my friends as quickly as possible.

Having taken one last glance back at my parents, I wasn’t watching where I was going and walked straight into the stiff, muscled back of one James Potter. He turned around and I'd be damned if he didn’t smile at me like we were great friends. My brows furrowed as I scowled at him.

“Hey! I haven’t seen you since─”

“Quite a while, I’m sure. If you’ll excuse me,” I sharply interrupted him. Then I shouldered past him before he could say anything else. I knew what he was going to say, and I knew that I did not care for Potter loudly announcing to the entire platform about our encounter over the summer. Even the small interaction just now brought more attention to me than I particularly wanted.

Andromeda stood just outside one of the train doors and we made eye contact. As I neared her, she glanced back to where I presumed James still stood. “What’s his deal? He looks a bit like a kicked puppy.”

I frowned at her, but forced myself not to look back. “How should I know? Let’s get to our seats, my feet are killing me.”

One of Andromeda’s eyebrows ticked up at me in suspicion, but she led the way to our usual compartment.

─

I sat amongst my friends, quietly observing as they recounted their adventures, or similar lack thereof. A part of me felt like a snake had coiled itself around my neck, a heavy weight that wouldn’t let up.

“Are you feeling quite right?” Narcissa asked me about halfway through the trip. I looked up at her, startled. Suddenly all of the girls in the compartment were staring at me. I tried to take a breath and couldn’t. I opened my mouth to respond and words failed me.

“Has something happened?” Andromeda asked, her hand reaching out for mine. I jerked away just as a knock sounded at our door. Everyone’s attention was quickly redirected, except for Andromeda who gave me a weary look before turning to see who had interrupted whatever had been about to happen.

My heart dropped to my feet when I looked up to see Evan Rosier smirking at me. I willed him not to say anything that would inform my friends of the deal our parents had made this summer. It was as if he could read my thoughts at that moment, and knew exactly what to do to rile me up.

“I believe the snack trolley is making its rounds and I do feel obliged to offer my inamorata whatever her heart desires,” he says with a self assured chuckle.

The girls look rightly confused before glancing to me and seeing the way I glowered at Evan.

Andromeda lets out a disbelieving laugh which causes Evan to frown slightly. “What on earth do you think you’re going on about?”

“Our betrothal of course.” Evan holds out his hand to me. I glare at it until he drops it back to his side. “Oh, don’t be like that, my dearest. Our parents have made the deal and set the date for the second we graduate.” A series of gasps sound around me.

Arranged marriages weren’t abnormal in our society, they just weren’t often arranged with people as young as Evan and I still were. To plan to be wed as soon as you graduated was unheard of.

I shoot daggers at Evan for taking yet one more thing out of my hands. I decided in that moment that I hated him. I absolutely hated him and if I truly were to marry him I would make our marriage a living hell for him just as it would be for me.

“Well. I suppose I’ll leave you all to your gossiping and wedding planning then.” He gave me one last smirk before finally excusing himself. I wanted to scream at him and rip his hair out. I wanted to hex him clear off the train. I wanted to curl up on the floor beneath my seat and hide from the world as I cried out everything I had been carrying with me.

Instead I sat frozen in place as everyone else simply stared at me.

“Please tell me that’s not true. You can’t truly be engaged to Rosier. Why on earth would your parents ever arrange such a thing?” Narcissa asked.

When I swallow it feels like gravel tearing down my throat. “It appears that our parents have decided we would make an advantageous pairing.” It’s a piss poor answer, but it’s the best I can offer.

“Well I suppose you should be grateful it’s Evan and not his widowed grandfather,” Phoebe Parkinson giggles. The others are quick to agree and start highlighting all of Evan’s so-called dreamy qualities that will make him a great husband.

As I sit there I can’t help feeling upset that they aren’t mad on my behalf.

─

Two weeks into the school year and the entire school has been murmuring about what I must have done wrong for my parents to plan to get rid of me so quickly. Of course no one wants to ask me anything directly, and Evan has been feeding the rumor mill every chance he got despite my efforts to limit my interactions with him. My friends act like nothing has happened, having gathered quickly the subject was not open for discussion.

Walking into the Great Hall for breakfast every morning I catch myself looking for something, though I can’t seem to figure out what.

In the hallways Evan tries to walk me to class and carry my books or hold my hand. I see girls giggling that he’s such a sweet boyfriend and I want to scream at them he’s not my boyfriend.

In classes he enchants notes to fly to my desk which only serve to get me in trouble with the professors.

At meals he makes a show of placing food on a plate to give me before making one for himself.

One time in the common room he tried to massage my shoulders.

Every bloody chance he gets, he parades around like the perfect boyfriend, making me look like a heartless villain every time I shoot him down.

─

A little over a month into the school year and people have finally started to move on, but I still feel the weight of their looks when I’m forced to sit next to Evan in class. He’s nothing if not persistent, never giving up his ostentatious displays of “affection.”

It’s a Thursday evening after classes and I managed to shake Evan when I disappeared into the library. I have a stack of books up to my shoulders as I move through the shelves back to the table I had secured. I think I see a ruffle of golden brown hair turning one corner as I turn the other, but I brush it off. I hadn’t seen anyone worth studying with in the library yet this year.

I make another sharp turn and stop dead in my tracks. I’m frozen in shock and I don’t know why because I don’t care. It doesn’t hurt my feelings, or make me mad, or even feel like an inconvenience at all.

Rosie Connelly jumps away from Evan Rosier, who in turn pulls his hand out from under her shirt. When he turns to face me he looks perturbed until he realizes it’s me. He’s quick to smooth a pacifying smile over his face, likely ready to say something truly dense.

I stare back at him, blankly, waiting for whatever his idea of a good excuse is.

“Well we’re not married yet,” he finally says with a sort of self-pleased laugh. And that truly does me in. I swing so violently from pissed off to heartbroken that this is what my parents want for me and back in a matter of seconds. Evan seems about ready to say something else despotic when his face suddenly falls. “Oh, shit,” he mumbles, looking past me.

I turn to see what has been able to elicit a more reasonable reaction from him at having gotten caught making out with someone he isn’t currently betrothed to. Of course it’s none other than Phoebe Parkinson. A rather nice, well-mannered girl in our year who only happens to be the world’s nastiest gossip.

I let out a dejected sigh. There’s no threat in the world that could keep her mouth shut for more than five minutes.

Without a word I storm past her, leaving behind a situation that is only going to exponentially complicate the future my parents plan for me.

I manage to navigate back to my table, set my books down without toppling any of them, and take my seat. It’s only when I hear someone clear their throat that I look up and come out of my numb daze.

Remus Lupin’s golden brown eyes meet mine and I nearly miss the way he subtly licks his bottom lip. He opens his mouth to say something, then pauses as he analyzes my face. His face drops at whatever he thinks he sees, seeming to be suddenly unsure of himself.

If he isn’t going to say anything, I will. “What do you want?”

He cringes. Okay, maybe it came across a bit harsher than I meant.

I take a steadying breath. “Forgive me, how can I help you?”

“Dove, you look like shit,” he says bluntly. I gape at him.

“Well excuse me, it’s not everyday the bastard my parents are forcing me to marry is caught feeling up some Hufflepuff slut by the world’s nastiest gossip,” I snap at him.

The shock on his face satisfies an angry part of me. A part of me that just wants to lash out at everyone for how bullshit the whole thing is.

Another part of me, the part that cares about Remus, the part that remembers he called me his friend, feels a bit kicked.

I suddenly struggle to meet his eyes anymore. Instead I choose to stare down at my hands. It feels a bit cowardly to tear into him then turn in on myself.

I see his hand move in my view, coming close to but not quite touching my hands.

“What do you say we get out of here? Get some fresh air?” He offers quietly.

“Er─ yeah that sounds nice,” I choke out. Remus hesitates for only a second before loosely wrapping his hand around my wrist. It’s merely a guiding touch, but I could cave at how gentle it is.

I’m vaguely aware that Remus is guiding me toward one of the courtyards. My thoughts spiral as I wonder what my parents will have to say about the latest development between me and Evan. Would they break things off with his parents? Would they blame me for not playing his blushing bride to be? Would they continue to punish me and make me uphold the arrangement? What would people say about me if I still had to marry him? What would people say if things ended? What would my parents say if people began to pity me because of this?

“Would you like a bit of chocolate, dove?” Remus interrupts my racing thoughts as he guides me to sit on a bench next to him.

I look over to him. My friend.

“It may not solve all your problems but it can certainly make them feel less daunting,” he explains.

“I think I might be sick, actually,” I say weakly.

He frowns at me. “Maybe not, then.”

We sit in awkward silence for a few moments.

“So it’s true? What people were saying about your parents making an arranged marriage with Rosier’s parents?” He finally asks.

“Yeah…”

“Did you even like him?”

“No.”

“Why would your parents make you marry him?” He sounds frustrated on my behalf.

“We make an advantageous pairing,” I murmur the same response I’ve given anyone else who has ever asked.

“The bloody hell does that bullshit mean?” He scoffs.

“It means I only got an acceptable on my divination OWL,” I say so softly he may not even hear. The way his brow furrows tells me he heard and is still miffed. “I’m a failure and an embarrassment to my family. The only success I can find in my future is as a house-wife, serving an actually great wizard.” My words are void of emotion, merely an echo of the vitriol that was spewed at me by my parents.

Remus looks actually hurt by what I’ve said. I give him a smile I know is nowhere near convincing.

“Dove, please don’t tell me you actually believe what you’ve just said,” he says, cautiously.

“What does it matter if I believe it or not? What choice have I ever had? I must do proud by my family. I had one chance to prove myself and I wasted it. I can’t embarrass them like that again, but now Rosier’s gone and soiled everything.” I feel absolutely hopeless.

“A passing grade on a tremendously difficult test is not an embarrassment. Your family is bloody insane if they truly believe that.” Remus sounds exasperated with me and I hate to think I’ve let down someone else.

“You lied, Remus,” I whisper.

“You have infinitely more than just one chance to prove yourself, you have a million every day,” he continues, ignoring what I’ve said.

“You lied,” I murmur again.

“Your family should be embarrassed for saying such backwards things about your future success,” he grumbles.

“Remus…”

“And if they truly think Evan bloody Rosier is meant to be a greater wizard than you? Well. They are─”

“You lied!” I nearly shout at him.

Remus looks offended at my outburst. “I’m quite certain I’ve done no such thing, not to you anyhow, but please do enlighten me.”

“You said it would be okay if I wasn’t perfect. You said things would turn out okay.”

He seems at a loss for words.

“It’s not okay, Remus. Things are very much not okay,” I get choked up as tears well in my eyes.

“Oh, dove,” he sighs. Before I know it he’s pulled me into a hug. The dam inside me breaks and I begin to sob into his shoulder. He holds me closer.

Eventually I begin to calm down, at least enough that Remus pulls away and begins to wipe my tears.

“Darling, I’m terribly sorry that things are looking dreary, but I don’t believe for one minute that this is truly to be your destiny.” He pauses. “In fact I know that things will turn around for you because you are strong and capable and a very, very powerful witch.”

I look up at him, feeling forlorn. “I don’t feel strong and capable and very, very powerful, though. I feel… defeated.”

Remus pulls me into another crushing hug. There is one thing that I am becoming very aware of and that is how powerful of a hugger Remus is. He smells like cinnamon and firewood and with how firmly he holds me I feel as though I can relax and I won’t completely fall apart. He rubs circles between my shoulder blades and I nearly melt into him.

“You are not defeated,” he whispers to me in a serious voice. “I simply will not allow it.”

I pull away to look into his honey brown eyes. They hold so much warmth in them.

“You take your time, build yourself back up. But don’t you for one minute give in and accept your parents words as the truth. You are too wonderful to succumb to their hate.” I try to stop the tears that spring back into my eyes. “James and Sirius and I will help you, you know. With anything.” I give him a weak smile and start to politely brush it off. “No, I’m serious. Anything you need, dove, we’re here for you.”

“Thank you,” I mumble.

The dinner bell starts to chime. I clear my throat and start to gather my things.

“I suppose I should probably─”

“If you’d like to, we could─”

Remus and I speak at the same time. We pause and a grin wiggles onto my face.

“I─”

“Sorry─”

We do it again and I can’t stop from laughing at us.

Remus’s eyes shine with mirth as he mimics zipping his lips shut.

“No, you go ahead,” I urge.

“Well I was just going to offer if you’d like me to grab James and Sirius and we could have dinner together, maybe out here even.” He seems uncharacteristically shy as he asks. I consider what it might mean to skip the Great Hall and all the rumors it will be turning tonight. It’s very tempting, but I’ve never been one to back down from some hearsay spread by bored teenagers. And I certainly don’t want anyone to think I’m hurt over Evan’s actions and hiding from them.

“I really appreciate the offer, and it is very tempting, but I should probably face the music.”

He seems dejected for only a second before masking it. “Right, I understand.”

“My friends likely have plenty to say about matters and avoiding them doesn’t usually go the way I’d like,” I further explain.

“Of course. I can certainly relate to that.” He gives me a knowing smile.

He starts to reach for his own bag. “But perhaps─” I stop myself, uncertain of what I even want to say.

Remus watches me expectantly. When I don’t say anything further he prompts me. “Perhaps…?”

“Perhaps we could─ you, me, Sirius, and James that is─ well… We could meet out at the lake after dinner?” Suddenly I’m the one who’s gone shy.

An almost smug smirk seems to settle onto Remus’s face. I fear for a second he’s going to make fun of me.

“That sounds great, dove. I’m sure they’d love to.” The smile he gives me is genuine.

“Great,” I say, trying to keep my voice even. I don’t know why I’m suddenly nervous. “I’ll see you out there after dinner, then.”

Remus nods in confirmation. “I can’t wait.”

We stand to part, me to go clean up before going to dinner and him likely to go find his friends.

“Oh, err─ just one request if you will?” I ask before he can walk away.

“Sure thing.”

“Maybe don’t tell a bunch of people?” He looks confused at my request. “I’m sorry I know it’s a bit strange, but I don’t want anyone to get the wrong idea considering what Rosier’s been doing.”

“Ah, I see. I’ll make sure to stay discreet and let the boys know to do the same.”

“Thank you, Remus.” We share an almost conspiratorial smile before finally departing.

─

Dinner seems to take forever as my friends pointedly avoid bringing up what the whole school is already talking about. Evan sits further down the table than he usually does. I think him a bit cowardly for not trying to talk to me about it, but I also appreciate that I don’t have to deal with him just yet.

My friends start toward the Slytherin common room after dinner, as is our standard routine.

I catch Andromeda and Narcissa’s attention. “I’m actually going to go back to the library to study a bit more before bed today.”

They share a confused look. “Oh, okay. Would you like us to join you?” Narcissa asks.

“No, that’s okay. I think I just need some space tonight. Might try to draft a letter to my parents,” I explain. I tug at the sleeve of my robe.

“Right, of course. It’s good to keep up with them,” Andromeda says, treading lightly around the idea of me telling my parents what happened today.

“You know where to find us if you need anything,” Narcissa offers.

“Thank you, I’ll be fine,” I promise before departing.

I make my way out to the lake without running into anyone I fear will be keeping track of my whereabouts.

I don’t see the boys anywhere yet so I settle down under a tree and practice levitating a branch. I’d left my book bag back in my dorm, otherwise I would take the time to pull out my divination textbook that I’ve been studying extra hard since we got back.

“There she is, the prettiest Slytherin princess,” I hear Sirius say from somewhere behind me. I turn to him with a scowl.

“Aww, don’t worry, darling,” James coos as he walks next to Sirius. “You’re the only Slytherin princess we care about.” Him and Sirius laugh at his stupid joke and I roll my eyes at their antics.

“I’m not a bloody princess,” I grumble as they sit on either side of me.

“Sure you are, dove,” Remus says as he sits across from me. “Doesn’t make you a ‘simpering girl in need of a man to save her,’ just makes you special.”

“If that’s how you feel then I cannot relate to you at all, princess,” Sirius starts. “I am most definitely in need of a big, strong man to save me.” He pretends to faint, falling into Remus.

“Oy, pester Jamie with that hero shit. I haven’t got the time.” Remus pushes him off.

“Hey! What’re you volunteering me for? I’ve saved his ass enough times already, I’m nearing my limit,” James argues.

“What the hell? Who’s going to save me then?” Sirius asks, pretending to be outraged.

They each glance at me.

“Well I suppose I could spare a bit of time to save you, but my time is precious to me so I expect to be fairly compensated for my heroic efforts.” I try to play along, but I’m not entirely sure I’m doing it right.

Sirius grins at me. “Why yes of course. I don’t suppose some chocolate frogs would do the trick?”

“Five chocolate frogs and two cauldron cakes,” I counter-offer.

James laughs. “Is that the going rate for princess-saving these days?” He jokes.

“I’m afraid it is, though I hear it goes up for each occurrence,” I explain.

“You drive a hard bargain but considering my limited options I suppose I have no choice. What’s a princess to do these days?” Sirius laments dramatically.

“Damn, if I knew I could be getting sweets out of you for saving your ass I would’ve been cashing in on that this whole time,” Remus quips.

The evening continues on with wise-cracking banter and the boys sharing silly stories about each other. I try to share my own stories in return, but it becomes jarringly apparent to me that me and my friends have significantly less fun outside of class than the boys and their friends. I try not to think so hard about why we’re all so serious all the time.

All the while that we’re talking, James picks at and fiddles with the grass. Occasionally, he switches to picking at a scratch on his arm, and Remus gently guides him back to playing with the grass. I think they think I don’t notice, so I don’t say anything about it.

At some point, Sirius’s hair starts to go a bit everywhere, frizz making him look a bit frantic. He keeps trying to brush it out of his face, but I can tell it keeps bothering him still.

I don’t know what possesses me to do it, but suddenly I ask if he’d like me to braid it back for him. Each boy wears their own look of shock at my offer and I worry I’ve crossed a line.

Once the shock passes, Sirius’s eyes go round and he just nods in response.

I have a spare hair-tie on my wrist, so I move to kneel behind him and start combing through his hair with my fingers, gently working out the couple of tangles I snag on. His shoulders start to sag as I work my fingers through his hair, so I continue to comb through it a couple moments longer than necessary.

James and Remus are talking about one of their assignments they haven’t quite finished that’s due in a couple days, but I focus in on Sirius’s hair. It’s quite soft, and very thick. I notice that Sirius doesn’t try to make any conversation with James or Remus as I work on french-braiding his hair.

I can’t help feeling almost sad as I near the end. I liked the excuse to be close to him.

As I secure the hair-tie at the tip of the braid I let him know I’ve finished. He lets out a sad sigh. I move back to my original spot, although maybe a bit closer to him still.

He gives me a glum smile. “No one’s ever done that for me before,” he explains, softly. “It felt quite nice.”

“How long have you been growing it out?” I ask, matching his tone.

“Last three years or so. It practically grows overnight, though.”

I reach out to fiddle with the end of his braid. He leans closer to me in response. I study the contours of his face. It really is a nice face. Part of me wants to cradle it between my hands. My eyes drift down to his lips and I wonder what they might taste like. I look back up into his piercing grey eyes and try not to betray what I was just thinking about.

“Christ’s sake, James, quit picking at your arm,” Remus exclaims, breaking Sirius and I out of our reverie.

Sirius and I look over to where James has started to make himself bleed just a bit.

“Shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t notice I was messing with it again,” James says, looking stressed. Sirius gives him a sympathetic look.

Remus mutters under his breath, exasperated, as he digs around in his bag before pulling out a bandage.

“I’m sorry, Remus, I really didn’t mean to,” James insists as Remus gently presses the bandage over the re-opened scratch on his arm.

“It’s okay, Jamie. Just try to stay more aware, yeah?” Remus speaks softer this time, giving James’s hand a reassuring squeeze. James nods.

Sirius asks them about the assignment they’d been talking about when I started braiding his hair, swiftly changing the conversation to more navigable territory.

The rest of the night seems to go on without a hitch. The sun eventually sets and the stars are bright in the sky.

I start to feel sleepy, but don’t say anything, not wanting my time with the boys to come to an end. In the end my yawns betray me, and Remus calls it a night on my behalf. They walk me back into the castle before bidding me a good night as I go toward the Slytherin dorms and them toward the Gryffindor tower.

─

I’m fixing my hair for the night at the vanity in our dorm when Andromeda breaks the silence. “You were gone quite a while, is everything all right?”

“As much as it can be,” I reply. “Sorry if I worried you, but I feel better after having some time to think.”

“It’s okay, we understand,” Narcissa is quick to say.

“We heard about what happened in the library this afternoon,” Andromeda speaks plainly. Narcissa looks shocked that she brought it up.

“I figure most people would have by now,” I say neutrally. Andromeda moves to stand behind me and look at me in the mirror. “Look, Andy, it’s all fine. Really. You both know I didn’t want to marry him anyway. I don’t know what my parents will have to say about this, but I can tell you one thing for certain, I am not marrying that lowlife.”

Andromeda holds my gaze in the mirror before giving a sharp nod, then going to finish getting ready for bed.

Later on as I lay in bed I can’t help but remember the night my parents told me about the deal they had made.

─

“It doesn’t matter if you love him or not, you don’t even have to like him, but you will be cordial and respectful. Your future relies on it now,” my mother spoke harshly to me. Then she instructed me to get dressed for the gala we were attending that night. “Do up your makeup, too. The Rosiers will be there and you’ll want to make a good impression as Evan’s new bride.”

I nearly gagged hearing the word “bride” uttered in relation to Evan Rosier. I remained composed and replied with the proper “yes, ma’am.”

The dress my father had picked out was truly horrid. The seams were itchy and the fabric clung to my skin in a way that made me sweat. It was the kind of dress that made me look older than I am, something that my mother would wear. I did my makeup in a way that I thought matched, but it felt heavy on my face.

I came out when my parents called out that it was time to leave. My father inspected me carefully. “Fine,” he said, sounding bored.

At the gala my parents forced me to socialize with nearly every person there. For the most part I was there to be seen and not heard. I listened to the grown-ups drone on for ages about politics and the economy and snide remarks they pretended didn’t count as gossip.

Eventually I managed to sneak outside, under the guise that I was using the women’s powder room. I hoped the fresh air would do me some good, maybe give me a bit of strength to power through the rest of the horrible evening.

“Not having fun in there?” A familiar voice asked. I turned to see James Potter. I hadn’t realized he was here tonight. In fact, I hadn’t realized anyone Hogwarts-aged was here besides me and Evan. I gave him a confused look. “I mean, it’s always been my dream to be paraded around like cattle,” he joked.

I let out a weak laugh and opened my mouth to say something but nothing came out.

“I’m sorry, you’d probably like to be alone right now, I can leave.” He starts toward the door to go back inside.

“No it’s okay, you were here first. I can go back in.”

James pauses next to me. “I don’t mind the company if you don’t,” he offers. I consider him for a moment before deeming him harmless.

“I suppose as long as you’re sensible company,” I tease.

We stand together in silence for a moment.

“I know it’s a bit different, running into each other here, but you seem a bit… despondent tonight,” he says hesitantly.

“You’ll have to forgive me, I’ve uh… Well if I tell you you have to promise not to tell anyone else.” I really shouldn’t trust him while I feel so vulnerable but the look in his eyes convinces me I can.

“Is everything alright?” He asks, taking a step closer to me.

“I really don’t know,” I admit quietly.

“I won’t tell a soul,” he swears.

My brows furrow and I can’t stop my lip from quivering. James takes another step toward me.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” he offers.

“My parents are forcing me to marry Evan Rosier when we graduate,” I whisper.

His eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. “Oh… I see.” I give a small nod. “I think I would feel rather despondent myself if I were in your shoes.”

“I feel… as though a great axe has cracked into my chest and everything that I am is pouring out and every move I make to stop it the axe just tears into me more.”

“Oh, darling,” James says so softly it tears through me in a twisting pain.

“Please, James, you can’t tell a soul about this,” I nearly beg him. “I know that people will find out soon enough, but I just need some more time to come to terms first.”

He nods in reassurance. “I understand. I won’t tell anyone.”

“Thank you.”

We take in the night air for a few moments. The full moon is bright in the sky. James seems to revere it with disdain.

“I know why Evan and I are here tonight, but not you. It seems everyone else is at least fifteen years our senior,” I say after a while.

“My dad is considering selling his business, I’m meant to be helping him scope out prospective buyers,” he explains. “Not so sure I’ve got his business acumen, or that I’m quite the right fit for modeling his product.” He gives me a goofy smile as he further ruffles up his hair. It somehow doesn’t look any more or less wild than before. I can’t help but smile back. “Usually my mum can help him charm the room, but she had to stay home tonight.”

“Is she feeling alright?” I ask politely.

“No, yeah, she’s just fine. Sirius came down with a cold, though, and my mum wanted to stay home to take care of him.”

I give him a confused look.

“Sirius, he… well he ran away from his parent’s last summer and he’s been staying with me and my folks since,” he clarifies.

“Oh, I see.” I had known Sirius had run away from Regulus, but I didn’t realize he’d been staying with James’s family. “It sounds like he’s very lucky to have you and your family.”

James gives me a sad look because just like Sirius he understands. He looks like he’s about to say something, but I don’t know if I’m entirely prepared to hear whatever it may be.

“I should probably head back in,” I say quickly.

“Right, I should probably find my dad,” James agrees.

─

The next morning at breakfast I walk into the Great Hall and my eyes catch on the Marauders over at the Gryffindor table. Sirius’s eye catches mine and he gives me an encouraging smile.

Evan sits next to me at the Slytherin table and I entirely ignore his existence.

History of magic is my first class for the day and when I take my seat a note falls seemingly from the ceiling. It’s on a different type of paper than the notes Evan sends me, and there’s only a handful of other students in the classroom, so it's not flashy enough to be Evan. I peel it open to find an invite to meet at the green houses after classes, signed by James, Remus, and Sirius.

I quickly tuck the note into the pocket of my robes, but can’t help the smile I wear throughout the day, waiting for my rendezvous with the boys.

─

I don’t know what to expect when I get there, but the boys are already waiting for me.

“What’s this about then?” I ask as I approach.

“It’s about having a bit of fun before you give yourself a hernia,” Sirius jokes.

The boys guide me through preparing a prank on the plant Evan has been growing for his herbology assignment.

“This is so wrong, we could get in so much trouble for this,” I complain.

“But not if we don’t get caught, so move quicker, darling,” James says.

“Don’t you lot have another friend who usually helps you pull these foolish shenanigans off with?” I ask.

“You mean Peter,” Sirius confirms. “He’s been all head over heels for his new girlfriend Mary and she’s convinced him that pranks are childish.”

“They are childish,” I argue.

“Then why’re you helping?” Remus teases.

“I really shouldn’t be,” I start to set down the packet of seeds that I’d been sprinkling into the pot of Evan’s begonias.

“Oh, but princess, he really deserves it,” Sirius says as he wraps his hand around mine to make me pick up the seed packet again. A jolt of electricity shoots up my arm from his touch but I do my best to ignore it.

Several moments later I have thoroughly spread grass seeds into the soil. James reaches around me to pour some sort of quick-grow potion over the seeds. His chest brushes against my back and I pick up on the way he smells like fresh-cut grass and lemon verbena. I nearly lean back against him to smell more of it.

After our prank has been executed Remus places Evan’s pot back on its shelf exactly as it had been. Tomorrow when he comes to class he’ll find his begonias have turned a sickly brown and become overwhelmed with weeds. We sneak away and go a roundabout way to the castle so it doesn’t look like we’ve just come from the green houses.

A part of me knows that I really should split off now to go study, but I’m having so much fun with the boys that I walk with them through the castle as they banter back and forth, giving each other silly dares. I’ve lost track of time when the dinner bell rings, and I realize that I really should depart from them now.

Back in the Great Hall I take my usual seat and try not to look too happy. It becomes all too easy when Evan sits next to me again.

Andromeda scowls at him and Narcissa gives me a nervous glance.

“Will you just talk to me?” He asks, frustrated.

“What, like how you were talking with that Hufflepuff? I don’t think so,” I snap.

He clenches his fist around his fork. I don’t have to look around the table to know that we all pick up on it.

“I don’t know why I even tried with you.” He rolls his eyes.

“I never asked you to,” I said coldly.

“It’s not like I asked either, you know.” My eyes dart around the table to see that everyone is listening very closely, while pretending to be focused on their meal.

With a sigh I turn to face Evan.

“Then you should be glad to hear I won’t marry you.” His jaw clenches and I wait for him to blow up at me. He glances around the table himself to see all eyes on us.

With a scoff and a muttered “whatever,” he storms off.

─

That night I toss and turn in bed before accepting that I won’t be getting any sleep anytime soon. I slip out of bed and pull my sneakers on. Something draws me to the night sky tonight and I want to get as close to it as possible, so I decide to sneak up to the astronomy tower. As I approach the landing I hear soft voices, and I worry there’s a class being held. I move quietly up, curious to see what’s going on. When I poke my head through the doorway I’m shocked to have run into familiar faces.

“Is that dovey?” Remus asks from where he sits, leaning against the half wall. I glance behind me, confused if he means me. When I look back he’s got a tired smile on his face. James is lying between his legs, resting his head on Remus’s thigh, and Sirius is wrapped around his arm with his head on Remus’s shoulder. They’re altogether a big tangle of long limbs and cozy embraces.

“Sorry, I didn’t realize anyone was up here,” I say quickly. It must be too loud because Sirius quickly shushes me. He then points to James’s face and I realize he’s actually asleep. “Oh, shit. I’m so sorry,” I whisper.

“S’all good,” Remus mumbles. “He’s probably already too heavily asleep. We’re lucky he isn’t snoring.”

I let out a soft laugh. Remus and Sirius observe me and I feel awkward under their scrutiny. I’m just in an old pair of flannel pajamas. Thankfully the air hasn’t turned to crisp yet, but up this high a chill settles over my skin.

Sirius tsks when he notices me rubbing my arm. He untangles himself from Remus and sits up a bit straighter. “C’mere, princess. I’ll keep you warm,” Sirius offers, holding his arm up for me to presumably sit next to him.

It must be the exhaustion finally wearing on me that has me lowering my inhibitions, but I sit next to Sirius albeit a bit stiff. He wraps his arm around me and jostles me a bit to lean into him. I can’t help the yawn that escapes me. With his other hand he reaches up to nudge my head until it's leaning on his shoulder.

“What’re you doing up this late, princess?” Sirius asks.

“M’not a princess,” I argue.

“You’re too pretty not to be,” he argues back.

I’m taken aback by his words and am too tired to think of a witty response. “What’re you lot doing up this late?” I ask instead.

“Tomorrow night’s a full moon,” Remus says on the other side of Sirius, as if it’s a perfectly logical explanation.

“Does that make it a good night to stargaze?” I ask for clarity.

“Makes it a good night to be alive and not in pain,” he grumbles.

“What…?” I’m at a loss of words, entirely unsure how to respond.

“See that bright one, right there?” Sirius interjects. I accept his redirection without complaint considering Remus sounds like he might be about to fall asleep too and could be saying any sort of nonsensical things.

“That one?” I point at the brightest star in the sky.

“Yeah, that one. It’s mine,” Sirius tells me.

“It’s yours? How’s that?”

“Well it’s named after me.” His voice is mirthful as he says it.

“Being named after a star and having a star named after you are two very different things, Sirius,” I joke.

“Nah, one and the same to me,” he teases back.

“Whatever,” I murmur. My eyes start to droop and I can’t help leaning on Sirius just a bit more. A bit of his hair tickles my face and I notice the way he smells like sandalwood and violet. It feels safe, here with the boys.

Sirius says something back to me but it’s a distant, muffled sound as sleep pulls at the corners of my consciousness.

I don’t know how long I’m asleep before I’m being gently woken up by James who kneels in front of me.

“Hey, there she is.” He gives me an encouraging smile. I give him a confused look and try to blink away the hazy edges of my vision.

“Come on, princess, we ought to get you back to your dorm so you can have a proper sleep in your comfy bed,” Sirius says and I realize that I’ve been sleeping practically on top of him.

“Oh, Merlin, I’m so sorry.” I push off him. James helps me to stand up, then reaches down to help Sirius up. “How long have I been asleep?” I ask, stretching out a slight crick in my neck.

Sirius glances at his watch. “Maybe half an hour. I was fighting to stay awake myself when Jamie woke up and started complaining about his back.”

I look up at James who makes a guilty face.

“Oh, don’t blame the poor boy,” Remus coos. “The concrete floor must not have been very comfortable.”

“Well why did he lay down like that in the first place then?” Sirius chides.

“It had felt comfy at first,” James says shyly.

“Please, you just wanted to be between Moony’s legs,” Sirius laughs. James and Remus both look shocked and glance nervously at me. My brows furrow in confusion. “Ah, shit, I didn’t mean…”

“Didn’t mean what?” I ask. Suddenly I realized just how comfy the boys had been laying together before I interrupted. My cheeks flare up.

“Dove…” Remus seems hesitant to say anything.

“Are you guys… what exactly were you guys doing up here?”

James’s winces and glances to Remus.

“Nothing like that, Sirius was just joking,” Remus says carefully.

“But you guys are comfortable together like that? Aren’t you?” They glance at each other, unsure how to proceed. “Were you guys on a date and I interrupted?” I ask, slightly horrified. “I am so, so sorry. I should─ I should go, I can’t believe I ruined your night.” I start to rush away.

“Wait, princess,” Sirius calls out and just manages to grab my wrist to stop me. It’s not a tight grasp, just enough to get my attention. I look into his grey eyes that seem to reflect the starlight back at me. “You didn’t ruin anything,” he promises.

“But you all were on a date?” I press.

He hesitates.

“I wouldn’t─ I won’t tell anyone.”

He glances behind me at Remus then back to me.

“Yeah, we’re… The three of us…” Sirius doesn’t seem to know how to say it.

“We’re together,” Remus says finally. Sirius drops my wrist. I move so that the three of them are all in front of me.

“I can’t believe I didn’t realize any sooner,” I say, laughing at myself. They seem relieved by my reaction.

“Well that’s kind of the point,” James giggles.

“Oy, don’t be cheeky,” Remus chides. They all pause to observe me before seeming to all come to a conclusion. “Thank you, dove.”

“What for?”

“For… not freaking out, I guess,” Remus clarifies.

“Oh, well I mean yeah. The three of you are clearly happy together. I’m… I’m glad that you have each other.” They each give me a winning grin. Something pangs in my heart to realize they’re all already taken, and so clearly happy together, but I try to brush that off.

“We should get you back down to your dorm,” James says after a moment.

Remus and Sirius are quick to agree and even though I want to argue I can get back to the dungeons on my own perfectly fine, I agree to let them walk back with me. A selfish part of me just wants to spend more time with them, even despite what I’d just learned.

─

Over the next month I find myself spending more and more time with the boys. Always in private, invited by an unsuspecting note. It doesn’t feel weird like I worried it might now that I know they’re all together romantically. In fact, it actually feels more right the more time I spend with them.

About a week after Evan was caught macking on the Hufflepuff in the library, I got a letter from my mother that simply said the engagement was off. I don’t know how they found out as I never had written them, but I don’t question it with them anymore. That night the boys and I celebrated in their dorm by gorging on sweets from Honeydukes. Evan thankfully left me alone after that and would only occasionally interact with me, similar to before the engagement.

If my friends thought my distance from them lately was weird they never gave any indication. Andromeda would inquire about my whereabouts, but I easily brushed it off as needing time to study in the library.

Occasionally the boys will rope me into a silly prank, but for the most part we meander low-traffic areas of the castle and talk and play weird muggle games that Remus teaches us.

Whatever weird emotions I had felt about learning that the boys were in a relationship together had worn off quickly. It must have merely been a bit of jealousy that they found something that made them happy, when I had almost been trapped in something that would make me miserable.

─

The morning after a late night escapade to the lake with the boys I make my way to potions class. I’m barely staying awake, but excited for the day’s lesson. When I walk through the door I see that Amortentia has been written across the blackboard.

The whole class is abuzz while we work to brew our potions, everyone excited to see if their potion will work. Slughorn carefully supervises as we mix and stir. This is one of the classes I share with the self-proclaimed Marauders and I keep a careful eye that they don’t do anything tremendously wrong, but Remus is very careful in following the directions. I notice each of them stealing glances my way in turn.

Eventually, Slughorn makes his rounds to inspect our completed potions. Andromeda and I get the highest score in the class.

“Now do share with us what you can smell,” Slughorn instructs.

Andromeda goes first, leaning in to carefully smell our potion. “Hmm… It smells like cedarwood,” she pauses to smell it again, “juniper berry… and pineapple!”

“Ah! How exciting,” Slughorn proclaims. “And you?” He prompts me.

I lean over the cauldron to inhale deeply. “It’s very clean smelling,” I start. “And also florally, I’d say like violets and cut grass.” I breathe in again. “And it’s a bit… err─ I can’t quite place it,” I explain. I force myself to keep my gaze on Slughorn while the whole class watches me.

“Very good.” Slughorn gives a sharp nod. “Fifteen points to Slytherin.”

He turns then to the table next to us and everyone’s attention shifts. I can’t help but glance toward Remus, who’s already staring straight at me.

He knows.

Bloody hell he knows.

He knows that Sirius smells like violets and that James smells like cut grass.

Merlin now he��s going to think I’ve got feelings for his boyfriends.

But it's worse than that because the last thing I could smell was cinnamon. Cinnamon like how Remus smells like cinnamon.

Because I’ve got feelings for all of them.

#poly!marauders x slytherin!reader #poly!marauders x reader #remus lupin x reader #james potter x reader #sirius black x reader #poly!marauders #marauders era #slytherin!reader #slytherin #remus lupin x sirius black #remus lupin x james potter #james potter x sirius black #harry potter fandom

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