#fic time again !! not entirely sure what to draw for this prompt

[five-nights-at-artsys]

the joy of creative services

[or: a phantom's attempt at one last message.]

[cw for brief descriptions of violent/graphic injury!]

Even now, his throat aches.

He can feel the blood pouring down his neck, and throat, slowly choking and choking and choking—

He has to say something.

Just one last message, before he goes.

(That's how ghosts work, right? Maybe that's why he's stuck here! He just needs to leave the next guy a post-mortem message! Certainly it isn't because of—)

But all that came out was a garbled mess of static.

He cuts himself off.

He tries again.

Cuts himself off again.

And then try, and try again until something close to comprehensible comes out.

But it never did.

[thebestofoneshots]

Gilded Constellations | (wolfstar x reader)

Series Masterlist | Previous episode

Pairing: Wolfstar x Reader Word Count: 7.5 K Warnings: homophob*c slurs, homoph*bia. Prompt: If things cannot be changed, can the attention be diverted? This IS a Wolfstar x reader fic, but it's incredibly slow burn. They won't start all dating each other until we're very deep into the story, but I promise the long wait will be worth it. Proofread by lovely: @aremuslupinsimp

Chapter 64: Put Out the Fire

Remus’ hand, the one that had been holding you down seemed to loosen up slightly. You looked up, he seemed just as tense but you saw Sirius plop back down into the water and you couldn’t stay down there any longer, your need for air was almost overwhelming at that point, and while you had frantically looked for a wand in the pocket of both boys’ shirts that were still on the floor to try and use some kind of charm for breathing underwater, Remus’ wand had been on his sweater and Sirius’ on his robes, so instead you’d had to hold you breath.

You gasped for air and looked towards the now shut doors. The first thing you saw was Remus’ shocked gaze, you turned to Sirius, he had his head hidden in between his palms. You looked in between the two of them, you felt your feet trembling and your lips wanting to say something. You hadn’t seen what happened, but by Sirius’ quick standing up and tense muscles under the water, you were sure someone had seen them. 

“Who?” You asked, voice raspy. The room was dеad silent, no sound other than the water still coming out of the taps and the soft echo of the small wave you’d created upon resurfacing. Both boys were almost frozen in place. Neither of them seemed ready to answer your question. “Who was it? At the door?” you pressed. 

It took a whole moment for either boy to muster up the words. “Snape,” said Sirius almost in a whisper. Remus was still quiet. 

“Severus Snape?” you asked, horrified. “How much did he–” 

“Everything,” he interrupted. You felt as if you'd gotten a punch in the gut and all the air had been drawn out of your lounges –you knew exactly how that felt. “Except for you, he didn’t see you. Remus made sure.” You blinked a couple of times and let out a short breath, trying to deal with all the new information. “He called us sissys,” Sirius continued. You saw Remus flinch out of the corner of your eye. 

“So he’s also homophobic,” you said in a scoff as if you weren’t surprised. “And he… just left?” 

“He left when I pointed my wand at his ugly face,” Sirius said, there was a tinge of that very characteristic boastfulness of his laced in his words. “Right Moony?” 

No response. 

“Moony?” Sirius asked again, now focusing his gaze on him. 

Remus was looking at Sirius but not entirely, it was as if his gaze was lost somewhere in the space he occupied. Sirius turned to you, questioning. Remus looked as if he had been petrified, though you could see the soft rise and fall of his chest. 

“Remus,” you said, much softer than Sirius, but his gaze was still completely lost.

Sirius was about to shake him but you were fast enough to hold his hand before he got to touch him. He gave you a confused look and you nodded softly. You used your hold on his wrist to draw it closer to Remus in a much softer manner and guided it until he touched his cheek. You then placed your hand on top of Sirius’ –much like you’d done to Remus earlier– and guided his index just under Remus’ chin. As you suspected, his heartbeat was almost as fast as it had been earlier, but this time it wasn’t because of pleasure, Remus was terrified. 

You threw another soft look at Sirius before pulling your other hand towards Remus’ unattended cheek. “Remus?” you called again. 

“Moony?” Sirius said shortly after, imitating the softness of your tone. He caught on almost as fast as you on what Remus was experiencing. He’d experienced it himself more times than he’d like to admit. 

“He knows,” Remus spoke finally. “He knows I’m a werewolf and he knows I’m queer.” You could tell how hard it had become for him to breathe. He was barely blinking as he said it. 

“He can’t talk about the first one,” Sirius said softly. 

You already knew about the incident. Severus had gotten charmed by Dumbuldore so he didn’t speak about Remus’ secret. You wondered if the spell had been ambiguous enough to also stop him from talking about this. It was highly unlikely, Dumbledore was a brilliant wizard, he wouldn’t leave space for loopholes.

Remus didn’t even have the energy to look at Sirius in the sarcastic way he’d want to. The one that made the obvious thing known: He could talk about the second one.

It was easy to guess what he was thinking. “It’s okay,” you said softly. “It’s okay,” you repeated reassuringly, much like he had done to you in the past. “We’ll figure something out.” 

“We always figure something out,” Sirius said with a smile, and leaned closer to press a soft kiss to Moony’s temple. That seemed to somehow ease the other boy. 

“That’s right,” you added softly and allowed your hand to glide down to his collarbone, squeezing the space between his shoulder and his neck reassuringly. “It may take us a while, but we’ll find a way. We already found our way to each other, whatever happens after won’t matter.” 

“The pressure, it’ll…” Remus took in a shaky breath. “It’ll crush us,”  he added apprehensively. “What if– If you can’t take that anymore,” he added as he looked at both you and Sirius. 

The root of his fear wasn’t on people finding out, but rather it was on the two of you leaving him because of it. You shook your head and sighed once you figured it out. “Rem, we’ve all gone pretty much through hell before getting together. Sirius’s never cared about other people’s opinions and as long as I have the two of you, I won’t either. Shout it out loud to the entire school if you want, I’m yours, we’re yours, and nothing will change that.” 

“She’s right Moons, if you think some Slytherin’s badmouthing us will make us step away from you then–” 

“It’s not just the Slytherins,” Remus interrupted, insisting, anxious. “Our very friends could turn on us. You don’t know the kind of prejudice they have against queer people, against people in a menage a trois or whatever it is you call it. They will look at us and they will judge us wherever we go and–” 

“Hey,” you said softly when you realised his words were taking over his thoughts. “Name one friend you think would leave us if they found out. I dare you.” 

Remus seemed to think about it for a second, he opened his mouth to speak but he couldn’t say a thing. “None of them would,” Sirius confirmed. “You know that, right?” 

“What about my father?” 

“You could always say you’re only half gay, you’re also dating a woman,” said Sirius nonchalantly and got a slap from your side. 

“I’m sure Hope would help him understand if it ever gets big enough for him to hear about it,” you said with a smile. “Don’t worry so much, Rem. We are together in this, we’re not planning to leave you any time soon.” 

“Yeah?” He said softly. Almost too quietly to be heard. As if he was scared you might go back on your words. 

You smiled and leaned in to hug him, Sirius was shortly behind, the two of you embracing Remus tightly. Both boys were still quite shirtless, and you could feel their soft skin against your hands and face, it was reassuring in a way. Your cheeks pressed to the crook of his neck and Sirius pressed almost right behind you. It took him a few seconds, but eventually, he also closed his arms around Sirius, pushing you even closer to him, as if to make sure you were real, as if to make sure you were really there, hugging him, and telling him you’d be with him no matter what. Just months ago something like that would seem unimaginable, and here you were. 

“I mean,” Sirius said. You could hear the teasing smile on his face even if you had your back turned on him. “Did you really think we’d ever want to stop after getting a taste of you?” He added before pressing a sonorous kiss on Remus’ cheek. The smack sound echoed through the entire place.

Remus was startled at first, growing almost red from the unexpected remark –and he was lucky Sirius didn’t lick his face as he initially intended– but then he chuckled light-heartedly. You smiled and pressed a kiss to his neck as well, much quieter than Sirius’ but loud enough for him to hear. “I mean, Sirius’ is right. How could we ever?” 

Remus’ chuckles grew a little louder. And he tightened his grip around the two of you.  A few minutes passed like that. After the heat of the moment and the cold bucket of water that Severus had thrown your way, it was a nice, simple, and incredibly reassuring embrace. “We should probably leave now,” he said while rubbing circles on Sirius’ back and pressing a short kiss to your hair. 

“I don’t want to,” you said petulantly. The idea of leaving the warmth and comfort of them presenting itself almost as a nightmare. 

“Severus might tell a teacher, and then we’ll really be in trouble.” 

“Remus!” Sirius complained this time around. He was clearly much calmer now, impossibly delighted at having both his boyfriend and his girlfriend cling to him so fervently.

“You both know we should go, don’t make me the bad guy.” 

You grumbled something as you pushed yourself off him, “Why did we say we wanted common sense in the relationship,” you sighed as you turned to Sirius.

“Because we’re both reckless and would probably end up in detention without Moony,” he reminded you. 

“Well detention doesn’t sound so ba–” 

“Bathroom cleaning.” Remus said without batting an eyelash. 

You stood straight almost in an instant. “Remus is right, we need to leave this place,” you said as you leaned down and allowed your hand to dive down into the water to pick up their shirts, handing them over shortly after. You’d gotten it wrong and mismatched them to their owner, the boys smiled when they noticed, exchanging the wet clumps of fabric between each other as they looked at you stepping out of the water with clothes completely soaked but clean in comparison to earlier. 

Neither boy said a thing, but the sight of your shirt and skirt clinging to your body due to the water tempted both of them to forgo common sense and just continue with what you’d started before Severus arrived. “What?” you asked as they stared. 

“Nothing,” Sirius said, almost too quickly before busying himself with the damp cloth in his hand. Trying to expand it and put it on, even as it was wet. “How is it so much harder to put on a wet shirt than to remove it,” he mumbled as he struggled to find one of the arms. 

“You’re not really meant to put on wet clothes, only to remove them,” Remus replied with a teasing smirk before also leaving the tub. He was dripping, the droplets of water disappearing into the charmed floor. It seemed like whatever water reached it would instantly dry, it’d been designed to avoid students tripping on wet surfaces; it was still fascinating to see the droplets almost disappear as if they had been swallowed by a sponge the moment they touched the ground.

 His trousers were half on –since you’d managed to remove one of the buttons– and pulled down as he stepped out of the bath. Sirius hollered something about him having a “Great arse” and you tried not to laugh as Moony frowned, and pulled up the trousers as a blush suffused his face. Not that Sirius had actually seen anything other than his underwear. 

You leaned back a little bit to look and nodded. “No, I mean he’s definitely right,” you said with a shrug. Which got an exasperated –and yet diverted– look from Moony. He shook his head as he pulled on his shirt, picked his jumper from the side of the tub and took his wand out from one of the sleeves, where it had previously gotten stuck.

“Little Witch, come over,” He said softly. You approached him without questions and he cast a simple spell over you, in a second your clothes were all dried up, they even looked ironed. 

“That’s a neat trick,” you said as you adjusted the button and realised the small hole in the side of your skirt had also disappeared. You looked at it puzzled as you turned to Remus with amazement. 

“It’s a repairing charm,” he responded with a shrug. “I begged Pomfrey to teach me how to do it. I’d lost a great deal of my clothes because of Moony.”

“You’re so brilliant!” you said as you took his hand in between your hands and pressed a fast kiss on his lips. He seemed rather content with your sudden show of love and appreciation. You’d called him brilliant before about a hundred times, but if from now on that praise also came with a kiss, then he’d have to be twice as brilliant as he’d been before.

By the time you left the bathroom, both boys had been dried with Remus’ spell, and you’d had to step out into the sea of toads on the outside hall. Upon little to no deliberation, the three of you decided that going to the courtyard and blending in with the rest of your friends would be your best alibi. Especially if you made a lot of noise and made it appear you’d been there a while. At least like that, you’d be able to diminish the credibility of whatever Severus decided to tell other people. 

If you made the rest doubt that you’d ever been anywhere but in the courtyard, then the probability of having been in the Prefect’s bathroom would go down drastically. Hence, you sneaked through one of Hogwarts’ interminable secret passages and arrived at the courtyard not from the main entrance but rather from an underground passage that dropped you just outside of it. 

You used the same technique you had used outside the great hall to climb up and the three of you blended with the crowd as if you’d been there all along.

“Hey,” you said as you approached your group of friends.

Mary was almost startled when she spotted you “Where were you?” 

“We got ourselves cleaned after the mud incident, took a while to find you in the crowds.” 

“If you had come with me instead of behind your boyfriends–” she stopped herself as if she realised she’d said something she shouldn’t have but added, “Your boyfriend’s beautiful hair then you wouldn’t have ruined your uniform.” 

You pushed her with your shoulder playfully, not reproaching but rather diverted at how fast her stance had changed when she thought she’d said more than she should.  It made you think of how and when you’d tell the rest of your friends about your relationship. 

Which had some conflicted thoughts, part of you wanted to keep it a secret, just because of how exciting it was to have them for the two of you, while the other part wanted to tell every single person in the world about it, because dating Remus Lupin was something worth boasting about. Yes, it had been you and Sirius the ones who finally got one of the dreamiest boys at the entire school. However would you want to keep that a secret? 

If only there were not such things as prejudices and so on, perhaps you might have made it obvious right there and then. But then again, you might have been the one in less trouble if word got out since you weren’t the one openly breaking the classic heterosexual relationships, the boys were. Not even Tom was openly gay, even if it wasn’t exactly a secret, it was more as if he belonged in a secret club, where only other members of the club and selected allies were admitted. 

It was the only way to maintain everyone safe since you were sure the racism already existing in some places of the school wouldn't take too long to turn into homophobia. Yet another excuse to belittle people. After all, you had met Arkalis, and the way he’d implied things about Evan had been enough to tell you the position of the Pure Blood Community in regard to sexual preferences. 

“What do you mean ‘her boyfriend’s beautiful hair?’” Asked James as he turned to Lily in an almost reproachful tone. 

“Nobody can deny it, Sirius has the best hair,” said Marlene. 

“Between who?” protested James. “The Marauders?” 

“Probably the entire school,” answered Mary with a shrug. 

James looked honestly offended by the entire ordeal, not because he didn’t think Sirius had amazing hair, but because Lily thought Sirius had amazing hair. Not that she didn’t have any right to think it, of course, she could think whatever she liked, but it didn’t stop the little discontent over it. “Well, I think Lily has the best hair.” 

“Of course you do,” Everyone retorted, almost in a choir. James just frowned in return and placed his hand around Lily who rolled her eyes and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, instantly making the frown disappear. 

Out of the corner of your eyes, you noticed Severus walking past the entrance and towards a bunch of Slytherins on the other side of the courtyard. His robes were still filled with mud, and he was covered by what you recognized to be the slime on the library entrance. There was a choir of laughter among the students once a small Hufflepuff girl noticed him and pointed his demeanour at her friends who seemed genuinely diverted at the sight.

“That is enough, Miss Bingley, please,” McGonagall said in a rather stern voice. 

“But Professor,” retorted another Hufflepuff that stood beside her. “He’s covered in troll snot!” 

This caused yet another chorus of laughs, this time even the Slytherins were poking fun at Severus who had already turned crimson from anger, his face contorting into that of an angry ostrich. When he noticed your staring he gave you a disdainful face with an air of superiority. As if he knew something you didn’t and he knew that something had the power to destroy you. Severus had assumed Sirius was cheating on you with Remus Lupin, and he was already devising a plan to bring the three of you down. He had this unwavering idea that it was your fault he was miserable and that Lily had started dating Potter because you had prompted her to it. He didn’t think it was a coincidence that Potter had been chasing after her for years; only when you appeared in the school had she actually decided to give him a chance. 

For all Severus cared, you and James had put a spell on Evans and that’s why she hung out with you so readily. After all, it had been after you arrived that she had started to throw those resentful looks his way. Almost as if she had started to hate him, which had never happened before. And it was in this madness that Severus was determined to destroy you. He didn’t give a damn if you recently lost your mother and friend, not even when he read on the papers that you’d run away from home; in fact, he’d even hoped you wouldn’t return at the beginning of the year. He was so upset and bitter over the way Lily was acting toward him that he blamed it all on you and couldn’t see past his pain.

It being your fault made sense, you were the perfect scapegoat, especially when he was not ready to admit it had been his attitude, and what he had called her that made Lily start being so wary of him. 

Unbeknownst to all his plans, you held his gaze and smirked, leaning closer to Sirius. “You should have told me he looked so ridiculous,” you said with a laugh, that caused Sirius to also pay attention to Severus. There was a fire in the Slytherin’s eyes as his gaze crossed with Sirius’ unbothered and clearly diverted one. 

“Severus Snape?” Sirius questioned. “Or should we say Severus Snail?” 

Some other kid caught wind of what he said and repeated it a little louder, soon enough there was a choir of voices chanting “Severus Snail, Severus Snail!” while the rest laughed at the ridiculously fitting nickname for the boy covered in slime. 

Severus puffed and blew, and looked more pissed than anything, his stupid proud smile erasing from his face as more and more voices joined the chanting. Neither you nor Sirius had joined, but both of you were laughing merrily. And as Sirius had placed his arm around you and had you lean closer to him, Severus thought he was the most disgusting man he had ever seen (after Potter). But he didn’t feel sorry for either of you, instead, he was ready to rip you to shreds. 

“Enough!” repeated McGonagall, in a much more commanding tone than the one he had used the first time. “Mr Snape, please go to Mr Slughorn to see if he can help you out of your… predicament,” she added. “Everyone else, the classes are suspended for today. Food will be served on the lawn next to the black lake and you shall remain there until further notice, is that clear?” 

There was a choir of excited “yes” coming from the crowds.

She sighed and then turned around, Professor Nightshade was by her side. She gave you a weary glance since she’d been trying to get a hold of you since you went back to school, but the situation at hand seemed a lot more relevant. The rest of the teachers, including Sprout, Flitwick and Spellman, leaned in to hear what McGonagall was telling them in a much softer tone. “I’ll talk to the house elves to devise a plan for the displacement of the Toads,” she said. “Unless anyone has any other ideas?” 

The teachers disappeared into the roofed section of the courtyard and you turned to look at Lily with a proud smile, leaning onto her before whispering: “Told you you didn’t have to worry about the homework.” 

Even with the thick snow outside, the students had all armed themselves with warming spells, there had been a few fires constructed near the lake and the elves were handing out hot chocolate with warming potions –courtesy of Slughorn– to everyone that required them. The prank had turned a boring first day of school into somewhat of a winter picnic or an exterior of a ski resort lounge party. The lake was frozen, the elves had gotten some skates and some students were skating about while others remained close to the fires while drinking their hot cocoas and roasting marshmallows.

Eventually, a Ravenclaw had the brilliant idea of also cooking food in the fire and with the help from the house elves got his hands on some raw meat in bruschetta sticks and with a spell had them float and spin around the fire as they cooked.

 He taught some other students how to do it, and suddenly almost all the fires were not only for warming people but also a buffet of all types of roasted food and vegetables. 

The day might have started with toads, but it ended in a winter festival! 

It’s been a few hours since you’d gotten there with everyone and by then you were all just lounging on the snow, close enough to the fire to be warm, but not so much that the snow would melt underneath you. You had a bruschetta of roasted vegetables in your hand and were munching on some green stuff that tasted like zucchini but with spices. 

“Well it turned out a lot better than I expected,” said James as he leaned back next to Sirius, you had been lying in between him and Remus, shoulders bumping into each other as you pulled food into your mouth. Remus would occasionally have some marshmallows float towards him and share them with you and Sirius. 

“Yeah, we’d never had a prank ended in a party,” said Peter from the other side. He was drinking some hot chocolate and had about 5 marshmallows floating beside him, and another 5 -much smaller ones– inside his beverage. “They almost always end up in detention.” 

“You think they’ll figure it was us?” asked Sirius thoughtfully. 

“I don’t think they even know how it was done,” you retorted. “I mean there is no spell that gets so many toads in so many places at once.” 

“I believe Flitwick and Spellman are trying to figure that out,” added Remus. “I saw them talking to some of the elves, and Nimbletwist said they had been tasked to revise the origin of the toads, but no one is sure where they came from.” 

“Luckily the Swampbombs don’t leave any magic traces…” 

“Don’t be so sure,” said Peter. “We thought stink pellets didn’t leave any traces after their dung was completely released and we got in detention anyway.” 

“How did they figure out they had been yours?” 

“The Slytherins threatened the Zonko shopkeeper to tell them who’d bought them,” he admitted. “Moral of the story– never buy pranks under your own name.” 

You laughed at that and took another bite of your bruschetta, whatever you’d eaten was sweet and slightly condimented, you weren’t sure you’d eaten it before, but you certainly enjoyed the texture of it in your mouth, not to mention the taste was exquisite. 

“Hey, wanna go skating?” Annie Doxon said as she approached Peter, you could tell he was trying to hide his smile and look cool about it when he got up as she extended her hand. You smiled as you saw the two of them towards the lake. 

“And you, Étoile? Wanna skate?” 

You hummed in return, you’d barely slept that night, and then you’d gotten a dеath scare at the bathrooms. It's not that you were sleepy, or that you wanted to sleep, but rather that you were much too tired to will yourself to stand anytime soon. Not to mention there was no place as comfortable as lying between the two of them. “Not right now,” you admitted. “But if you want to–” 

“No, I’m good here too,” he added with a smile, leaning his head a little closer to yours. “Can I have some, Moons?” he asked Remus as he gave a bite to a marshmallow. Moony smirked and floated it towards Sirius who promptly gave it a bite of his own. 

“This is really nice,” you said as you took another bite of your food. 

“Not having class?” asked Sirius.

“The marshmallows?” quipped Remus. 

“No, being with you,” you said, not realising how freaking sappy you’d sounded until it was too late. 

“Is it?” Sirius said with a smirk as he turned to you with a teasing eyebrow and you groaned in return. 

“Never mind, I take it back, I take it back,” you joked, it didn’t matter, Sirius had already thrown himself over your stomach, pushing you closer to Remus and looking up at you with a teasing smile.

“What about it is it that you like so much?” 

“Oh, please!” you complained with a smile as you tried not to make it evident how flustered you’d gotten over your own stupidity. 

“Come on, Étoile, dis-moi!”

“Non, non je t'en prie.”

“I’d certainly like to hear it too,” Remus said as he leaned on his elbows to be able to look at the two of you better. It was like the entire world around the three had faded, leaving only you and nothing else. “What is it, Little Witch?” 

“You just like torturing me, don’t you?” you said, playing offended. 

“Perhaps we do,” Sirius responded as he looked at Remus with a rather complicit smile. 

“It’s just that you look exceptionally cute when you’re flustered,” Remus said, much quieter, in case someone was listening to the three. You covered your face with your hands but both of them were quick and moved them out of the way, looking at you with infuriatingly teasing smiles. 

You frowned and pouted and the two boys blurted out laughing. Perhaps if Severus had seen the entire thing happen he would have realised he’d gotten it all wrong, and that his plans to torment you would dissolve in water like an effervescent tablet.

You were shaking your head as the boys continued to laugh their heads off when you heard a rather big explosion. The entire place went quiet, and people turned to look towards the castle. It couldn’t have been the prank, there was nothing in the swampbombs akin to an actual bomb.

“What–” 

“My god,” you heard a Hufflepuff girl –Alice Becket– say as she looked towards her window. You gave Remus a look since they had been a thing and he just shrugged in return. “I left my fireworm in the dorm room, if toads got in…” 

Suddenly there was another explosion, this time it was louder.

“Alice!” Michael, another Hufflepuff, screamed. “Did you also take Puxie out of her cage?” 

“She looked constrained,” Alice said with a miserable-looking expression. 

And then there was another boom. Imogen, who at some point had sat beside Remus winced. “And… that must have been Tony.” 

“Your fireworm?” you asked as you turned to her. She nodded in return. 

“Alice, may I have a word with you?” Said Professor Spellman with a rather stern look. “Care to explain the explosions in the common room?” 

“It’s the fireworms, Sir. I think they might have encountered the Toads…” she said and then she looked down, shaking her head. “Poor Drewie…” 

“And why, pray tell, did a bunch of Hufflepuffs keep fireworms in their dorm rooms?” He said, voice booming and turning to look at Nightshade. She shrugged in response, even if she was head of the house, she had no idea. 

“Homework,” said Imogen. 

“Hufflepuffs are not the only ones with fireworms either,” said a Ravenclaw as there was another loud boom and smoke started to come out of their tower. 

“By Rowena!” said Spellman as he heard another boom. 

“Where do you keep yours?” You asked, turning to Sirius. 

“Peter is taking care of them, I think he left them with Hagrid or something,” he said with a shrug, not preoccupied at all. So far there had been no explosions on the Gryffindor tower or near the dungeons (that you’d heard) and after a few other booms, the novelty of the incident died and some of the students on other years –everyone that did not own a fireworm– went back to the things they’d been doing before hand.

“I’m so going to fail,” said Michael as he pulled on his hair and shook his head in disbelief. “All we had to do was keep them alive.”  

“Loser!” Said Snape as he stared at the smoke. 

“Say that again, Severus Snail!” jeered Michael as he turned around, clearly pissed at his comment. 

“That’s enough,” Spellman commanded, but neither cared to listen. 

“Call me that again and see what else blows up.” 

“Your face will,” retorted Michael, as he pulled out his wand and pointed it towards Severus.

Nightshade had slowly walked right in front of the boy, and in a much calmer, and yet somehow equally threatening voice said, “Michael Stradlater!” 

He looked at Snape, clenching his jaw and wand still high up in the air. Severus stared at him angrily as he looked at her from the corner of his eyes and then focused back on him. He took a deep breath and slowly pulled his wand down. “He started, Miss!” 

“Not my fault he can’t keep his fireworms alive,” Severus insisted, he was in a terrible mood, and being called Severus Snail only made it worse. On the other hand, Michael was devastated over his worm, not because he was overly attached to it, but because he was failing Care of Magical Creatures and needed the extra points keeping him alive would have bought. He aimed his wand against Severus again. 

“Michael,” Seraphina said again, it was rather impassive. Voice soft, but a clear warning regardless. The boy didn’t relent this time. 

You looked at Remus and smiled, he knew you were up to something even before he brought your hand to your mouth and pulled on the fingers of your glove with a bite and removed it, digging your hand in the snow. 

“Professor, I’m really sorry but I cannot–” A snowball surged through the air and fell right on Severus’ face. Michael looked at the scene completely shocked before he allowed his wand to fall back down as he bent over with laughter. 

“Who the hell–” Severus started, but then another snowball flew through the air and fell on the side of Michael’s head, which got Severus to scoff. Remus was not wearing his gloves at this point either. “Is this funny to you?” Severus asked as he looked around annoyed. 

“Plenty,” said Evan as he threw a snowball straight at his face. 

Severus seemed even more offended that his housemate had thrown a snowball at his face than anything, but then a rouge snowball from Sirius fell on a random student and since he thought it had been someone else, he retaliated towards Imogen and Alice, who of course wouldn’t stay with their arms closed. 

Less than 10 snowballs later, a fight had ensued. There were snowballs falling on the fires and on the food, and even the students who had been trying to read a book, or work on homework (which of course there were some) had now joined. Remus and Sirius and you had started out as a team, until Sirius accidentally threw a snowball at Remus and he retaliated with one towards him that ended up falling on your arm. 

Eventually, Sirius was focusing solely on Remus and Remus on Sirius and you decided to pull back a little since you had already gotten like 10 balls clash onto you in the crossfire. It was as you stood close to the lake, using a spell to make about 20 snowballs at once, that someone with a disillusionment charm passed through and pulled you back behind some old stone walls that you assumed had been some ancient building that the school hadn’t cared much about maintaining.

“Hey Reg,” you said when you noticed it was him. 

He smiled, pulled his head up to make sure no one had spotted him dragging you there and turned back. “How’d you know it was me?”. 

“All my other friends with mad disillusionment skills are in the middle of a snowfight.” 

“Could have been an enemy,” he said in a rather serious tone –you did notice the irony of that thought.

“An enemy wouldn’t have pulled me anywhere nearly as gently as you did.” You shrugged.

He rolled his eyes and shook his head, casting a spell around the two of you so you were both now invisible, but somehow he’d managed to make himself visible to you and vice versa.

“You have to teach me that trick.” 

“So you fill the school up with more toads?” 

You gasped in surprise. “What makes you assume it was me?” 

“You weren’t at the Great Hall when chaos ensued, as if you knew it was going to happen.”  

“You were looking for me?” you asked tilting your head to the side with a teasing smile. But Reggie’s face made you realise he was not in the same spirits as you were. “What?” 

“I wanted to talk to you.” 

“That does not sound like good news whatsoever,” you said, somehow still half-jokingly but with an almost strained tone, as you didn’t want to hear what would happen next. 

Regulus took a deep breath and then turned back to you. “After the Christmas party… they thought I’d helped you.” 

“But you tried to stop me!” 

“They didn’t believe you knocked me out just like that…  Evan and Crouch were also on the line.” 

“But the wand I gave Barty–”

“It didn’t matter,” he said. “Arkalis for some reason thought Evan would protect you… Of all people, can you believe that?”

You tilted your head to the side and let out a low “hmmm”. 

“Wait, you can?” 

“It’s a long story. But Arkalis believes I hooked up with him.” 

“With Evan?” asked Regulus. He might have not been in the class but he very well knew about the animosity you had towards each other, and he also knew about him and Barty.

“It’s a long story,” you repeated. 

Regulus shook his head and sighed before he spoke again. “Anyway, we had to convince them that we all hate your guts.” 

“Couldn’t have been hard for those two,” you joked, but Reggie didn’t seem to loosen up after that either, he was tense still. 

“How are you?” He changed the subject. You were about to say you were fine but he didn’t let you speak. “Really.” 

You swallowed. 

“I see you’ve been using her wand.” 

You stopped breathing for a moment, not knowing exactly how to respond to that. “Better than I was then,” you said honestly. “I’ve… so much has happened since. It’s been crazy but the boys have been there for me, through and through. You?” 

He smiled when he heard you. He could tell you weren’t lying. “We convinced them we never helped you.” 

There was an apprehensive way in the way he said it as if he’d had to do something awful to achieve it. “What did they–” Your words got caught in your throat as he rolled back his sleeve. 

His pale arm had been tainted, marred with a symbol that it took you no more than a second to recognise.  A snake with a skull on top, exactly like the one you had seen up in the sky when he persuaded you to stay outside. For a second you wondered if your mother would still be alive had you actually listened to him. It was a terribly destructive thought that you knew you shouldn’t allow to roam in your mind for too long unless you wanted to be back where you’d been before the mirror.

You took it in your hands and pulled it towards you. “Reggie,” you said, afflicted as you looked at his arm. “Did it– Did it hurt?” He stayed quiet, clenching his jaw, which was enough for you to know it had. 

“He can call us whenever he wants now. That hurts more.”

“Can’t we remove it?” 

“I don’t think it’s possible, dark magic is involved. Like a curse.”  

“All courses can be broken,” you said with determination. “Sirius is way better at that than me thought, perhaps we can talk to him and–” 

“No!” he let out in a rush.

“No?” 

“Sirius’ animosity towards me was one of the things that convinced them that I wasn’t on your side. Evan also used Sirius as his excuse to not helping you. And while we’re supposed to pretend to be friends with you at school, it’s only to keep an eye, and make sure you don’t interfere again, if not…” 

“I get it,” you interrupted, not wanting him to say the words that both of you knew would follow. “But, your brother he, you won’t be able to make up with him. I know he’d like to have his little brother back, Reggie. He misses you.” 

“Very peculiar way he’s got to show it,” he responded sarcastically, in a way that was incredibly reminiscent of Sirius himself.

“You’re no better than him.” 

“Well, he shows you he loves you.”  

“He’s still angry about the stuff that happened that summer,” you explained. “But he misses you still.” 

“He has James.” 

You sighed, you weren’t sure how to respond to that. “He needs to think you’re on their side?” 

“There’s nothing more convincing than his scorn,” he said coldly, you could see it hurt him either way. 

“And I? Must I pretend to hate you too?” 

“No,” he said as he shook his head. “We’re meant to keep an eye on you, remember?” 

“So I shouldn’t be surprised if I end up with Slytherin satellites?” 

“I doubt anyone will take it seriously. Except perhaps Mulociber and Severus since–” 

“They too?” you asked in shock. Both of them already hated your guts. Perhaps as much as Barty and Evan had before Christmas. 

“More than me, Evan and Crouch, even. Since they got in themselves, not through their family connections.” 

“Shit.” You said as you thought to the fact that Severus had seen Remus and Sirius in the bathroom.  Would he be scared enough just with Sirius’ threats to leave that fact alone? Would he go running to inform Orion? Did he even have a way to contact Orion? What would the Blacks do if they found out? 

“Yeah,” he agreed. He wanted to ask you how you were coping. Especially about your mother, she’d seen how much closer you were to her than to your father, and while he would have been almost pleased to have Walburga out of the way, the way in which you had defended Avis was enough for him to know it wasn’t like that for you at all. “I’m sorry about… everything that happened on Christmas.” 

“I’m sorry about this,” you said as you placed your hand over his arm again, rubbing your thumb over the mark, as if that would wipe it from his arm. “And everything they made you do after Christmas.” 

Perhaps it wasn’t the nicest thing to bond over your sorrows, but at least, Regulus had someone he could talk to. You had always had James and Lily and all your other friends to bond with, but Reggie could not talk about any of the things he thought with almost any of the Slytherins. He could trust no one, he didn’t want to risk it. 

“That doesn’t mean anything,” he said as he looked at the mark. “I’m on your side. I’ll always be on your side.” 

You knew he meant it. From day one, even if reluctantly, Regulus had been on your side. And something deep inside told you that he would be till the day he died. And while it was reassuring to know that you had friends who would stand by you no matter what, you had also seen first-hand what standing by you no matter what could do to them.

“Stay safe,” you retorted. “Don’t put yourself in harm’s way for my sake.” 

“Would you even listen if I asked that of you?” he said with a small, almost teasing-like smirk that reminded you just how much of Sirius’ little brother he was. Sometimes even the way he walked was so reminiscent of Sirius that you had –upon seeing him by the corner of your eye– thought it was him. 

“Do as I say, not as I do!” you retorted with a smile as well. Reggie was bringing down his shirt sleeve and buttoning it as neatly as if it had never been pulled up. 

“Hypocrite.” 

“I’m older, I get to be one,” you added teasingly, he actually smiled after that, it was a genuine smile. Almost a twin to Sirius’ except his was a little brighter. You wondered if someone would ever make Reggie smile like his brother, you hoped there would. 

“You really should have been a Slytherin.” 

“Don’t go around saying that, you might get beaten up by James,” you smiled. And pulled your wand out of your pocket before smiling and passing it over to him, he looked at you with narrowed eyes. And then you smiled. “Careful, you’ll get cold.” 

“What?” he asked, confused. 

You smiled and pushed him gently so that he wasn’t covered by the rocks anymore. “Hey!” you said in a voice that didn’t quite sound like you. “Regulus is hiding over there!” 

Regulus gasped and then turned to you with a shocked smile. Now that was the kind of smile you were looking for. “You traitor,” he mouthed as several snowballs crashed against him. Three on his arm, one on his face that made snow splatter and colour a good deal of his hair white, and then one on the side of his leg. 

You winked and picked up a ball yourself, throwing it towards him. “Go on seeker, let’s see if you’re as good at avoiding small balls as you are chasing them!” 

He smiled and shook his head, rolling down on the snow and picking a ball before throwing it straight at your face, even if you were still invisible. 

“You were saying?” he asked with a smile. 

Series Masterlist | Next Chapter

TAGLIST: @rayrlupin @callmelovergirl @warcelia @ireneop @endversewinchester @moonyunebi @smuttysluttybitch @mazzymoons @drugs-for-memes @sofiacblair @vmpir3lvr @remuslupinisbae @rabluver @willgrahamisalesbi4n @thatobsessedreader r  @itskailey24 @hell0-kittie @belovedmoony @blacksgarden @loving-and-dreaming @cassie-love20 @starchaser-lily @zucchini-queenie @springflwer07 @sseleniaa @cometsghost @orkwardx0 @imdoingbetternow  @sbrewer21 @remuslupinsbae @maxinehufflepuffprincess @wifiatthetrainstation @unstablereader @msblacklupin @oliversaurus @jaylienpotter @remussbitch @hermionelove @izuoyarmin @themarauderswife7 @keira-kaz2y5 @lampthemacarenagod @bugg06 @a-n-1-m-3-f-r-3-4-k @darlingeels @kissmeunicornbaobei @xluansstuff @boo8008 @angelmixer @voteforintensedreams @allons-y-molly @aremuslupinsimp @imaginexred @writingshae @nyanwyn @poetrypirate @crazyhorseforgot @saturnhas82moons @ryeyeyer @mothraantics @maqqiekwon @desikudisworld @pastelorangeskies @barking4you @profoundpidgeon @nagareboshi-chiyo @x4ramyluv @bookishbabyyyy @panhoeofmanyfandoms @randombibitch

A/N: Since we're getting close to the end, I'm planning to do a reread (10-15 chaps left) + heavy revision once we're done (still a few months from there but it's probably going to be done sometime this year) because I want to make my own printed version of it (probably on Lulu), and perhaps a cute epub file? It will probably contain pictures, fan art, and other bonus material. Either way, if you want to collaborate, either in the revision or in bonus content, please don't hesitate to hit me up. Sidenote: please check out this ANNOUNCEMENT regarding some alterations to the posting schedule for the rest of the month.

Leave a comment telling me if you wanna be tagged on Gilded Constellations

Want to support me? Like and reblog this post (reblogs are extra nice since they help me get my work to more people), also guys, I absolutely love reading your comments, so do throw them my way if you have any!

Read more Marauders Fiction

[writtenbyjeanofarc]

★༉‧₊˚✧ — 𝑯𝑬 𝑾𝑯𝑶 𝑻𝑬𝑵𝑫𝑺 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑾𝑬𝑨𝑲.

𝖌𝖊𝖓𝖗𝖊: Dark fantasy, yandere, a bit of fluff.

𝖕𝖆𝖎𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖌: Alucard X You (the reader)

𝖘𝖞𝖓𝖔𝖕𝖘𝖎𝖘: Just a little one-shot scenario between you and affectionate, but yandere Alucard snuggled up in bed. The time takes place after sex. After refusing to cuddle with him, he spirals into a feeling of bloodlust as he gets himself ready to mark you as his.

𝖈𝖜: Blood drinking, if that counts. A bit of dubcon even though there isn’t really smut for this fic, and slight degradation (he calls you his pet).

𝕬𝖚𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖗’𝖘 𝕹𝖔𝖙𝖊: Hello again, readers. So I’m back with a new fic and despite not uploading for a couple of weeks due to mental health reasons and school, I’m going to post this new fic I made which is a part of a series!

YANDERE PROMPT LIST BY: @writeformesinpie

PROMPT: “I can never get enough of you. I’ll drink you down to the last sip.”

“A-Alucard….Just five more minutes…please….”

It was about nine o’ clock in the morning when all curtains were closed to prevent sunlight from penetrating through the glass windows.

….And there you were in bed, bare naked with the touch-starved vampire himself, your body shivering at the cold touch of your respective “lover.” Alucard was trying to cuddle you, to which you tried avoiding.

“You’ll take whatever’s been given to you, dear. You must lie with the beast before you who has been craving your touch for as long as a thousand years.”

“There you go again with your silly monologues, Alucard. Just let me be as I sleep, alright? I’m tired. You might as well kill some peasants outside or do your necessary duties for the day….just leave me be-”

A loud sound was heard as Alucard flipped you over.

You couldn’t believe your eyes as Alucard landed on top of you, pinning you down to the king-sized bed as his eyes glowed a bright shade of red. The look on his face intimidated you like a hungry wolf cornering its prey, his lips forming a smug smirk. You wanted to….no, you needed to run to a safe place where you could feel a bit of comfort. The look he’s been giving you was unlike his previous deed of cuddling your smaller figure.

Alucard let out a small chuckle.

“Cat got your tongue, darling? Judging by your current state, there won’t be another time where you’ll refuse my orders.”

“But, Alucard, we’re-” you attempted to protest.

“We’re not what?” Alucard asked, tilting his head. “Not together?” He laughed in retaliation to your bewildered facial expression. Leaning closer to your ear, you felt chills run down your spine as he whispered intimately. “Very well, let me clue you in. Your blood is mine, in fact, your entire being is mine by the time I’ll have myself inside you. Sir Integra has chosen you to become my one and only pet whom I shall swear to protect with my very own life. You are far too fragile to let go. Let this moment consume your soul. Give yourself to me, and don’t look back.”

“Alucard…..please…” you whimpered. “I only agreed to sleep with you because….because…..!!!”

“Such a precious, sensitive little thing.”

His mouth opened wide and bit down aggressively on your neck, drawing blood. You moaned loudly in return, trying to push away Alucard’s huge figure off of you. Your efforts to let yourself free were pointless, as he took advantage of your arms by grabbing your wrists and keeping them in place.

Alucard started to suck the blood out of your neck, leaving bruises and hickeys around it. He surely was doing all this for his own pleasure, so as to leave you aching for more. And boy, were you feeling real good.

“A-Alucard!!! I….I thought…you just wanted…a hug…..”

“Hm? I've changed my mind. From now on, what I want from you is something more sinister, something animalistic and disgusting to the untrained eye. I can never get enough of you, I’ll drink you down to the last sip. I have fallen for you, pet. Show a little gratitude for someone as powerful as I have swallowed their pride just to love and protect you dearly with all my strength.”

“I appreciate it, but….”

“Has your pride gotten the best of you, dear? After we got our freak on the previous night? I bet it didn’t. Just admit how you developed feelings for me.”

“Oh, no! That’s not the case! I-” you stammered.

“Ah, so you still refuse to admit your feelings, hm? Very well, I’ll show you how desperate of a mess you’ll be once I bend you over.”

It was too late. You and Alucard were about to spend the whole morning going at it until night, leaving you with no choice but to spend time with the creature who has lusted for you since Integra has chosen you as his pet.

There was no turning back.

It was about to be a long day.

[grapenehifics]

Confession - Obikin Promptober day 17

Someday I will get back to the fics I'm meant to be working on, but not this day! Today, I was inspired to write a coffee shop AU (thank you @evieswips!) for the Obikin Promptober (thank you @paracosm-draw!) prompt, 'confession'. 2k of fluff and aprons below the cut:

"Uh, Obi-Wan? I...think somebody left this for you?"

Anakin wasn't sure why he phrased it as a question. A note labeled, 'to the cute redhead behind the counter' definitely wasn't for Anakin, and he and Obi-Wan were the only two who'd been working the shop that day. (They were the only two working the shop ANY day. Anakin was Obi-Wan's sole employee.) He shouldn't open it - it wasn't addressed to him - but Obi-Wan didn't reach for it, merely looked over his shoulder curiously and mumbled, 'oh, yes?' as he continued to sweep the floor, so Anakin unfolded the slip of paper. "I think she's asking you on a date," he said morosely, his stomach sinking down to somewhere around his sneakers. (Okay, so maybe Anakin DID know why he'd phrased it as a question. Anakin was hopelessly, catastrophically in love with his boss.)

"Again?" Obi-Wan asked mildly, and Anakin was so distracted by this response that he hardly noticed when Obi-Wan took the slip of paper from him and slid it into the pocket of the apron he wore around his waist. (Anakin had a crush on a man who wore an apron. What was his world coming to?)

"Again?" Anakin squeaked, so surprised he dropped the trash can he'd been emptying. His voice went high and unattractive, nearly shrill. "What do you mean, 'again'?"

"She's...asked before. I admire the persistence, if nothing else," Obi-Wan said, ignoring Anakin's mounting panic and opening the cash register. He pointedly was not making eye contact, but Anakin couldn't stop staring. He'd feel bad about neglecting his duties, except for the fact that he'd clocked out hours ago. He'd told Obi-Wan that the shop was a good place for him to study even after his shift, and it was...sort of. The coffee was good - it had better be; Anakin had ducked behind the counter and made it himself; not wanting to bother Obi-Wan, who was busy with paying customers, for a cup - and the atmosphere pleasant, but Anakin would definitely have been able to get more work done if he hadn't spent half his time sneaking glances at Obi-Wan's butt when Obi-Wan wasn't looking or pausing the clacking of his keyboard to listen to Obi-Wan's smooth, melodic voice as he took orders and flirted with the clientele or insisting that he was 'planning on taking a break for a while anyway' every time Obi-Wan stopped by to check on his booth even if he hadn't been anywhere near due to take a break. And then, when Anakin realized it was closing time and he'd (again) not moved for a solid four hours, he'd offered to stay late, helping Obi-Wan clean and close up. It was Anakin's favorite part of the day, despite not getting paid for it. The doors were locked, the lights were dimmed, and it was just him and Obi-Wan, puttering around, straightening chairs and taking inventory.

"And...you've told her no? That's not persistence, Obi-Wan; that's just...not taking no for an answer," Anakin said, getting his hackles up. No meant no, and if this lady couldn't take a hint...

Obi-Wan shook his head. "Oh, no. Nothing like that. I said I'd think about it."

Anakin picked the trash can back up again and frowned. It didn't sound like Obi-Wan to lead somebody on like that. "Don't you like her?"

Obi-Wan gave a half-hearted chuckle. "Difficult to say. We haven't actually been on that date yet." Anakin's frowned just from hearing Obi-Wan use the word 'date'. "I've simply been busy. Well, you know how it is," he quickly added, catching a glimpse of Anakin's expression. "Starting a new business..." He'd paused, mop dangling from his hand. "I poured my entire life savings and my father's inheritance into this place. I want it to work. I need it to work. Perhaps down the line - a few years from now - I can start thinking about dating again, but" -

"Wait, wait," Anakin interrupted. He set the trash can on the counter and put his hands on his hips as he stared the man down. "Obi-Wan. You're telling me that you're not going out with a cute girl because of work?"

Anakin was surprised to find himself so offended. He wasn't sure why he was coming to this woman's aid, when he very manifestly did not want Obi-Wan to date her. But even more than not wanting that, he did want Obi-Wan to be happy. And shutting himself up in his coffee shop was not the way to do that.

"I...you know that we..." Obi-Wan spluttered, gesturing with the mop handle. "You of all people know how hard we work."

(Obi-Wan desperately needed another one, maybe two, employees, in addition to Anakin, but Anakin had refrained from mentioning that fact, because then Obi-Wan might do it, and hire some more people, and then Anakin wouldn't be special anymore.)

"This place is my life," Obi-Wan continued, "and..."

"Bullshit," Anakin blurted out, and Obi-Wan pulled up in surprise. He looked so hurt that Anakin almost felt bad, but he barreled on anyway. "Look, Obi-Wan, you don't want to go out with this chick in particular, I get it. You know what, maybe you don't want to date at all. And that's fine; it's your life. But I don't ever want to hear you say that this place" - Anakin gestured over his shoulder to the rest of the coffee shop - "is all you have. Because it isn't. It's just a job. You have..." Anakin, surprisingly, felt his breath hitch and his throat swell. He hadn't expected to get so emotional over this. He suddenly thought of his mom, who'd worked nearly until the day she'd died, and how much Anakin would give for even one more day with her. "You have people who love you," he finished throatily.

Obi-Wan's face softened and he started to reach out, as if to take Anakin's arm, and then thought better of it and let his hand fall to his side again. "Many of whom I've met because of this shop," he added softly, and Anakin thought about the blonde woman who'd left the note again.

"You have to do something for you, Obi-Wan," Anakin said. He was in no fit place to be giving his boss - or anyone - life advice, but Anakin believed in what he was saying with his whole heart. "You've just gotta take a chance, sometimes, you know? Even if it's scary. Even if it" -

The mop fell to the floor with a clatter. Obi-Wan stepped forward, brought his hands up, closed the distance between them, cupped Anakin's face in his palms, and kissed the stuttered surprise right out of Anakin's mouth.

"Hmm?" Anakin said, or something very close to it, and his fingertips had just barely brushed the thick cotton of Obi-Wan's apron on either side of his hips when Obi-Wan stumbled backward, his mouth open and his eyes wide.

"I...I just kissed my employee," Obi-Wan said, sounding horrified, and he brought his hand up again, this time pressing the back of his wrist to his lips. His wet lips. That Anakin had just had pressed against his. "Anakin, I'm so sorry," Obi-Wan murmured, rushing to get the words out as he wiped his mouth with his hand. "That was a completely inappropriate overstep on my part. I...can we...can we please just forget this ever happened, and" -

"Absolutely not," Anakin growled, and he finished the motion he'd started and hooked his index fingers through the white cotton ties of the apron that held it snug around Obi-Wan's captivatingly trim little waist. He yanked Obi-Wan forward and stepped toward him at the same time, so that their chests and hips met in the middle almost painfully. Anakin had to duck his chin a little to catch Obi-Wan's eye at this angle. Obi-Wan looked back up at him. His mouth was still open, a little, but now instead of panting he seemed to be holding his breath. "Forget what I said before. Fuck all those other people I was talking about. It's me. I love you." Anakin unhooked his fingers just long enough to wrap his hands around Obi-Wan's hips instead. He could feel the warmth of him through his left palm, and the solid weight of him through the right. "Take a chance on me, Obi-Wan. Please." He knew he was begging, knew his lip was wobbling and tears were gathering in his eyes, but he stayed where he was, firm and resolute. If Obi-Wan didn't want him he was going to have to tell Anakin that himself.

"But what if I'm scared," Obi-Wan whispered, and he broke eye contact long enough to look down at the center of Anakin's chest instead, and at the same time brought his own hand up and placed it flat, fingers splayed, over Anakin's beating heart. Anakin half-hoped he could feel how fast Anakin's heart was beating under his ribcage, and half-hoped he couldn't. "This could go so wrong, Anakin; I'm so much older than you are, and I'm your boss, and" -

Anakin, a little reluctantly, took his right hand off of Obi-Wan's hip and wrapped it around his wrist instead, pinning Obi-Wan's hand to where it lay splayed over Anakin's sternum. "So maybe now's a good time to break some bad news to you," Anakin said lowly, and now it was his turn to hold his breath in nervous anticipation.

Obi-Wan's head snapped up. "What?"

Anakin couldn't bear to see him look like that, even in jest. He closed his eyes and gave Obi-Wan a quick, puckered kiss to the tip of his nose before pulling back. He rubbed the back of Obi-Wan's hand with his thumb. "I quit."

Obi-Wan blinked in surprise. Anakin was gratified to feel his hand curl just a little possessively around Anakin's t-shirt. He wasn't sure Obi-Wan was even aware he was doing it. "You're quitting? Why?"

Anakin shrugged, feigning nonchalance even though his heart was in his throat. If this didn't work, Anakin was not only out a job but would lose the chance to see the love of his life every morning for a four-hour shift, doubles on weekends. "There's this really cute guy I want to take out on a date, but between my classes and homework and this really demanding job I have, I just don't know when I'd find the time to woo him the way he deserves." He slid his left hand, the one still on Obi-Wan's waist, back and to the side, until it was resting at the small of Obi-Wan's back, just above the knot in his apron ties. "He's worth it, though."

Obi-Wan frowned. "I don't want you to leave," he said, sounding almost as petulant as Anakin did when he was trying to get out of having to take the trash out to the dumpster, and Anakin was struck by the desire to kiss his nose again. "This is your job, Anakin, and I won't have you losing your apartment over this. We'll figure something else out. We'll..."

"Oh." Anakin shook his head. "I didn't say I wasn't going to work. I'm just not going to work here. I know when I answered that ad in your window I didn't know the difference between an Americano and a cortado but you whipped me into shape. Darling." Anakin rubbed Obi-Wan's back to try to distract him from the endearment he'd just let slip out. "I'm taking everything you taught me and I'm going to sell it to the highest bidder. I bet I'll have a new job by the time I come to pick you up on Friday for our date."

Obi-Wan gave him a shy, rueful smile, and Anakin was delighted to see the tips of his ears blush a very cute shade of pink. "I admire the persistence," he admitted.

That wasn't a yes. "Is that a yes?" Anakin asked, almost demanding.

Obi-Wan was still blushing, but he grinned mischievously at him and shifted - Anakin sprang back to release his wrist as quickly as if he'd been burnt - to wrap his arms around Anakin's neck. "We close at eight on Fridays."

"I know," Anakin said, appreciating the new angle and allowing himself the luxury of wrapping his arms around Obi-Wan’s waist and holding him close. "I used to work here, until about ten seconds ago, remember?"

"...but for a special occasion I might just manage to lock up before seven," Obi-Wan said, and once again Anakin only managed to let out half of a surprised, happy gasp before Obi-Wan kissed him again.

[kybercrystals94]

Come Back (ch. 1)

Read here on Ao3!

Whumptober 2024 - Day 12 - Prompts: Underground Caverns // "Just a little more"

Rated: T | Words: 573 | CW: non-graphic mentions of blood and injury.

Next Chapter>>

A/N: This fic is for @fionas-frenzy, because she mentioned a Tech-Lives fic yesterday, and I just had to make it happen. Also, yes, another Tech-Lives fic, because denial isn't just a river in Egypt, ya know??

It won’t be the fall that kills him. 

Although, that certainly did not help matters. 

Tech holds the shattered remains of his comm, cupped in trembling hands. Entirely irreparable without proper replacement parts. His pack is gone too. If he rests long enough, perhaps he can garner enough strength to find it. Or what’s left of it. Find something. 

He is not optimistic.

Strangely, the first loss that seems to trigger an emotional response is his goggles. It is less their importance to him, and more that they are the final straw placed on an already precarious situation. He is frustrated to find himself brought to tears as he pulls them from his bloodied face. 

Because he is bloody. There is blood everywhere. Head wounds have the unfortunate tendency to appear far worse than is necessarily accurate. He tries to find comfort in that, but it is threadbare and flimsy. Hardly worth considering. 

The goggles slip from his hand, falling amongst the wreckage of the railcar. He is not sure how he survived. It all seems surreal. The pain, the circumstances, the depravity of the whole situation. They’d lost their chance to find Crosshair. He sacrificed himself to give the remainder of his siblings a chance, fragile as it might be. He hopes they do not squander it. He hopes they get away. 

He hopes they are not foolish, and try to come back for him. 

He hopes they do.  

Sucking in a shaky breath, Tech knows he has to move. He cannot remain here. The Empire will come to scour the wreckage, find salvageable parts. Maybe even try to find him, or what is left of him. 

He moves to get up, tries to push himself to his feet, but his strength has abandoned him, pain excruciating. He only manages to draw himself up enough to crawl. And so he does. He is his only chance of survival, he only needs to put himself out of reach. 

His brothers will not come back for him. 

His brothers will think he is dead. 

Afterall, no one could survive such a fall. 

It is only logical. 

Please, come back. 

He finds an opening in the ground. An underground cavern. Cavern might be a generous description. He debates the likelihood that it is a dwelling for some sort of ferocious creature. He cannot remember what sort of animals are native to this planet. He knows he looked it up. He and Omega had discussed the likelihood of running into such things. The odds were low. What was it? 

Another defeated sound escapes him. He arranges himself, every movement agonizing, to descend boots first. It is a slight descent, easily manageable, even in his broken state. It is dark, but he is not afraid of the dark. He is alone, but he is not afraid of being alone. That is not entirely true. He does not have a memory of ever being truly alone. Not like this. Never like this. 

I don’t want to die like this. 

He knows he is hidden now. He just needs to rest. Close his eyes. Sleep for a moment. Maybe his mind will be clearer when he wakes. Maybe he can find a way home. Home to his brothers and his sisters. He never thought of them as home before, but it makes sense now. 

He isn’t ready to leave them yet. He just needs a little more time, yet.

END

A/N:

I might do something more with this story. Maybe. Possibly.

But if I don't, here's a spoiler: Tech does survive and he does find his family again. I promise! This fic might end hopelessly, but the greater picture is hope 🥲

Let me know if you'd like to be added to my tag list!

Tag List: @followthepurrgil @amorfista @mooncommlink @arctrooper69 @proteatook @ezras-left-thumb @maeashryver @baddest-batchers @laughhardrunfastbekindsblog @omegafett99 @heidnspeak @fionas-frenzy @royallykt

[dont-offend-the-bees]

We Glimpse Each Other Out of Phase

Hello lovelies; rough weekend, huh? I've had this one roughly drafted for a couple of weeks and was planning to keep it in my back pocket as a Deadboyween prompt fill. However, given the cancellation news, I think maybe we could all use a little gentle melancholy comfort right now. So I cleaned it up a bit, and I hope you will take this little snippet as the warm hug it is intended as 💛 So this technically follows on from/is set in the same universe as my Painland Week fic Something I Can Turn To. A fic which I basically intended to leave as a one shot, but I got quite invested in the universe and have been absolutely blown away by the response to it. So it became a collection which now features, as well as my own fic, two wonderful fics by williamvapespeare and one by Ingi, and I would heartily recommend you check them out if you enjoy this story or my original one! That being said, you probably CAN read this without having read the first story, I just wouldn't personally recommend it, you'll be missing a lot of context and backstory! 3.7k, rated T, also available on Ao3 (registered users only!) Part One (Something I Can Turn To) on tumblr

Charles may have had a bit of a rough go of it growing up, but there'd been quiet moments, too. Most of 'em in a rickety old attic, with the only lad in the entire world he could trust with just about anything.

But there were peaceful times at home, too. Safe ones. Mostly at night. Long as he was quiet, didn't cry too loud or stomp about, he could get through eight-ish hours unbothered. Sure, sometimes he had to pace around the room a bit, silent on sock feet just to shake out the excess energy that wouldn't let him sleep but honestly? He bloody loved sleeping. Couldn't get enough of it. Long as he didn't make a fuss, didn't draw attention, he could sink into his bed in the cellar room and just sort of... bob out of his life for a bit. Like a smoke break, but better for his health. If he was dead lucky, he'd even stumble into Edwin's arms in his dreams; pass the time there 'til morning, when it all kicked off again.

So it wasn't easy, getting used to night shifts. It was a fair trade-off for all the other freedom in his life lately but bloody hell, did it sting a bit, losing that time. That dark, quiet nothing where he could be nothing, too, just for a bit. There was almost something sacred about it. Something he hadn’t known was important to him ‘til it was gone.

At least the night shift was pretty quiet, usually. Most of the people who needed to use a gym at two in the morning weren't exactly there to socialise. Charles' job pretty much amounted to half-dozing at reception and handing someone a towel now and then. He'd not had many nutjobs to deal with or fires to put out.

Then again, maybe a good disaster was what he needed just to stay awake. Christ, he was shattered. Took him a good few tries to get the key in the lock when he finally staggered home.

Charles was sad — but not surprised — to find the kitchen light on when he fell through the door.

He rolled his eyes. "Honey," he called, jokingly, the endearment all funny and wrong on his tongue. He'd call Edwin a lot of things — mate, love, best friend, fucking soulmate — but honey? Mingin'. "I'm home."

Edwin's reply was half a second too slow — textbook Edwin guilt response. Like when your cat didn't jump off the counter fast enough to pretend it hadn't been there in the first place. "Good evening, Charles."

"Good morning, more like," said Charles, drawing the bolts — all three of them — across and dropping his bag in a sloppy heap by the door. His coat came next, then each shoe, leaving a trail behind him as he stumbled towards the voice. The hallway felt too short and dark to be called a hallway, really. Looked more like a cupboard where someone had shoved a load of loose doors they had lying around. There was one to the kitchen, one to the bathroom, one to the bedroom that was basically also their living room. Plus a bunch of other weird little cupboard doors and hatches and grates and things, none of which led to anything you’d logically expect them to. It was a shambles, really. A 'paint it magnolia and fob it off on the students' sort of ruin. But it was home. Even bone-tired, he still found the energy to lock gaze with the weird eye-motif lamp Edwin had picked up somewhere and put on one of the non-shelves, and give it his customary wink. Felt wrong not to. Unlucky, somehow.

A fanlike halo of yellow light spread across the hallway carpet as he pushed open the kitchen door. He found more or less what he'd expected to find behind it. Edwin: sat prim and proper at the scuffed-up little table, surrounded by books and doing a bang-up impression of someone with no bloody idea what time it was. His chin, tucked elegantly behind his curled knuckles in that little thoughtful pose of his, lifted at the sound of the door. His eyes found Charles and narrowed, just a little, sketching a pleased little crinkle or two at the corners.

"Charles," he greeted once again, voice softer this time. "How was your shift?"

Edwin hadn't had those laugh lines when Charles had met him. Seeing as he was twelve, and not exactly full of reasons to smile. Charles wasn't gonna take full credit for them, or anything, but... well, not many other people putting in the legwork, were there?

He dragged in a breath and let it out again, sharply, puffing it out in a raspberry. "Same old."

Charles crossed the kitchen in about three steps (it wasn't a big kitchen), clocking Edwin's book of choice on the way. Some textbook with a long-winded title that basically translated to lawyer gubbins. He put a hand on Edwin's shoulder — and Edwin tilted his head easily, offering his cheek for a kiss. Charles grinned and pressed one to the tail end of one of those little lines.

"Burning the midnight oil?" asked Charles, nicking one of Edwin's favourite expressions. He always seemed to pick up the ones that made him sound about a hundred years old.

Edwin hummed, carefully noncommittal. "I must have lost track of time."

"Could've counted these, for a start," said Charles, tapping the little saucer on the table. It was piled high with used teabags, like some damp and deranged game of Jenga. "Might've given you a clue."

"I've been rather busy," Edwin sniffed, turning the page in his book. "Lots of swotting to be done before my lecture on Monday."

"Right, that's what this is, is it?"

"What else would it be?"

Charles reached out, pinched the book Edwin was reading at the centre, and slid it out of the bigger, decoy book he was holding with its cover facing out. "Oldest trick in the book, mate. Literally," he grinned. He lifted Edwin's secret reading into his arms, having a flip through. "Y'know, most people only pull that move when they've got dirty mags to hide.”

Edwin cleared his throat. Even in the dim light of the table lamp, Charles clocked the embarrassed flush on his cheeks. "Well," he said, setting the law textbook he absolutely wasn't reading on the table. "It does get rather draining, this intensive focus on one subject. I felt the need for a brief diversion."

Charles closed the secret book, glancing at the cover. "Anthropology, again. Like that one, don't you?"

"Hm. There's much to explore; it encompasses a rather broad area of study." Edwin took it back and slid it, sheepishly, behind the pile of other law volumes stacked at his elbow. "It's a fascinating subject."

"Should've applied for it," said Charles, gentle. He rubbed Edwin's shoulder absently — getting a little more intent when he felt Edwin melt a bit, his knotted muscles loosening under Charles' digging thumb. "Or any of the other five million bloody things you're interested in. Y'know, 'stead of the one thing you're not."

"I am interested in it!" Edwin blustered.

Charles raised an eyebrow at him.

Edwin sighed. "I am," he said, bit quieter. "It's just not all I'd like to be doing. But it was the right choice, of that I'm quite certain."

Charles sighed and stepped around him, coming to lean on the table, arms crossed. Their eyes met across the short distance. "Look. If you say it's alright, it's alright. I'll believe you, mate, honest I will."

He nudged Edwin's toe with his own, sock to holey sock. "But, y'know. Not for nothing, but at school you was always going on about all that stuff you wanted to do. Bloody... archaeology in Peru, and whatever else. Just don't see how a law degree gets you there, is all."

Edwin leaned back in his chair a bit, steepling his fingers. "Well, no. No, it doesn't get me to Peru; or Pompeii, or Patagonia —"

"Or anywhere beginning with a 'p'," Charles teased.

Edwin's lips twitched up in a little smile. "But it will get us somewhere. A great many somewheres, I imagine. As degrees go, it opens rather a lot of doors."

Charles cocked his head, squinting fondly. "'Us'?"

"Obviously, Charles," said Edwin, with a dismissive wave of his hand. Like a reality where he didn't bring Charles wherever he went wasn't worth considering.

Charles grinned, ducking his head.

"I'm sure you'll chastise me for my cynicism," Edwin continued, oblivious to Charles and his soppy moment. "But... Well, given the somewhat rocky beginnings you and I have encountered in life, I thought it best to..."

"What? Play it safe?"

"Yes," said Edwin. Firm, unapologetic. "Exactly. Because I would very much like for both of us to be safe in life, Charles."

"We are! Well," Charles shrugged, scratching at his nose with a wince. Still ached a bit sometimes, all told, even though the break was years ago. "We are now."

"And I would like for it to stay that way."

"It will!" Charles half-perched on the table, and nudged Edwin's leg with his big toe. "I'll look after us, won't I?"

Edwin looked up at him, and his eyes softened. Fuck, but he had the kindest bloody eyes — least when he turned them on Charles he did. His hand landed on Charles' knee, gentle as you like; rubbing small circles with his thumb like Charles had done on his shoulders.

"You've done more than enough already, Charles," he said, looking him dead in the eye; not letting him hide for anything. "It's only fair I look after you, too, now and again. Especially when it's within my power to do so."

Charles laughed, a thin, hitching sort of thing. His eyes felt all prickly. Fuck, he couldn't go crying on him, now — his eyeliner'd smudge everywhere, it'd be so obvious.

"Look after me," he mimicked, catching Edwin's hand in his, stealing it all for himself. "You gimme a bloody reason to wake up in the morning, mate. What else d'you need?"

Edwin opened his mouth, brows going all scrunched up like they did at the start of a concerned lecture. Charles ducked in and shushed him quicksharp with a kiss.

"Not saying I'm about to, like, off myself if you chuck me, or anything," he laughed against his lips, fondness glowing in the grate of his ribs like smouldering coals. He chased the kiss with a smaller one, to the corner of Edwin's mouth; the scratchy dusting of his five o'clock shadow. "I'd just wallow about being proper depressed, so. Don't chuck me, please?"

Maybe he was clinging a little too hard for his tone of voice. Maybe he was giving it all away in the hands — always such desperate, grasping fucking things. Always his problem, the hands. How they grabbed things, hit things, did things before his brain always had the chance to catch up. How long 'til Edwin got sick of Charles hanging onto him like a life raft, dragging him down with his dead weight? How long 'til the bones in Edwin's hands started to creak from being clutched too tight?

But Edwin just scoffed, quietly — completely failing to hide that little spark of humour in his eyes. "I hardly think that's a possibility, Charles," he said, lifting his other hand to pat the back of Charles'. His soft fingertips kissed feather-light against Charles' grazed, calloused knuckles. "Honestly,” he sighed, dramatically. “Here I sit, talking about the devastatingly boring career I'm attempting to get off the ground in order to keep you in the manner to which you've become accustomed, and you think I'm about to chuck you."

He shook his head, crow’s feet crinkling and bloody hell. Charles loved him so much it felt overwhelming, sometimes. Like he needed a whole extra heart in his chest just to store it all.

Charles kissed Edwin's hand and flopped, happily, onto his lap, grinning at the mild ‘oof’ it shoved out of him. Grinning even wider when Edwin's other arm wrapped around Charles’ waist without a second thought. Edwin was a bit picky about personal space, for good reason — not with Charles, though. Charles had a standing invitation and he put it to bloody good use.

"Bet you could make a weird job work for you too, y'know," said Charles, dropping his next peck to Edwin's forehead as he sank into his lap. His head felt heavier already; only thing keeping him going was the effort of holding himself upright. Draped over Edwin like a blanket, he could've just dozed off right then and there. But the kitchen chair was creaking threateningly, so. Probably a bad idea. "I know the weird stuff's usually more competitive and that, but you're that smart. You'd run rings round the others, mate, get ahead of the game."

He flung his arms round Edwin's shoulders, scratched at the back of his head, the hair at his nape. It was a little longer than Edwin liked it. He needed a trim. So did Charles, really; his racing stripes had grown out and he kept having to blow stray curls out of his eyes. But they were saving their pennies any way they could. "You could go do something interesting, something a bit barmy," said Charles. "Something with a bit of adventure, yeah? Or at least where you get to have your nose in interesting books all day. You'd love that."

Edwin sighed, resting his cheek against Charles' shoulder as his eyes drifted shut. "That does sound compelling. But I've rather made my bed, Charles; I’ve no money coming in at all if I don’t study for it. And it is interesting, in moderation. Besides, it..."

"What?"

"It seems... like a decent thing to do." The warm weight of Edwin's arm squeezed Charles' waist. "Something I could do a modicum of good with."

Charles heard a rustle, and glanced over his shoulder. Edwin's other hand was flicking through the law book on the table, clever fingers finding the module he wanted without even checking the contents. Charles had to squint at it a moment, his exhausted eyes skittering off the page. He thought he saw 'human' and 'rights' in that word soup of a title.

He softened. "Eds..."

"I merely thought..." Edwin made a little noise of frustration in his throat, angling his face further into Charles. Speaking so soft it almost got lost in his skin, words lodging small and timid in his bones. "So many years, Charles. Trapped at the mercy of other people, no one caring if we lived or died, I... I could do something about it. Learn the right words to say, the right arguments, the right resources. So no one else need..."

Sometimes it fucking killed Charles, that there were people out there who thought Edwin was some... some selfish, spoiled rich toff with no feelings. As if he wasn't the kindest bloody person in the world; as if he hadn't had to carve that kindness out himself with his bare, bleeding hands.

Edwin sniffed. “It was just an idea,” he mumbled. “A silly idea.”

Charles shook his head, stroked Edwin's hair. "S'not a silly idea, love. Not silly at all."

Edwin never struggled to find his words like this — and he definitely didn’t mumble them. Words were his weapons, and he could go toe-to-toe with the best of 'em, talk bloody circles 'round his opponents.

Charles looked from him to the stack of books, the tower of teabags. The plastic clock on the wall, its hands marching on into the morning.

"Aw, mate," he said, rubbing the back of Edwin's neck — and dropping a kiss to the top of his head. "You're dead on your feet, in’t you?"

"I'm perfectly fine," Edwin grumbled. "And I've tests to study for —"

"Tests in subjects you're not bloody taking? Yeah, right." Charles bit his lip, cuddling Edwin's head against his chest. "Can't sleep, can you?"

Edwin was quiet a moment, breathing nice and steady into Charles' throat.

"It's still... difficult," he said.

Three door bolts and four hundred miles was a start, but bad memories had a way of following you about. Charles closed his eyes and breathed in, nice and slow; hoping Edwin could feel it in his chest, find a nice rhythm in his rising ribs.

"Edwin," he said, nuzzling into his hair. "On my life, mate — one of these days, you and me are gonna be so bloody set you'll be able to do whatever you want. Go back to uni fifty times, hundred times, don't care. Study for the rest of your life, if you want.” He tapped Edwin’s temple. “Cram everything that's ever interested you in that big brain of yours. Promise you."

It shouldn't've felt like taking a bloody knight's oath, whispered words at the kitchen table at stupid o'clock in the morning. But Christ, he'd fought off enough dragons to get ‘em here, hadn’t he?

He felt Edwin's smile against his skin, followed by the little dry brush of his kiss. "You could, too. If you liked," he said. "Get your A-levels, apply for university..."

Charles laughed, shaking his head. "Not sure I could keep up."

"Charles," Edwin admonished, in that stern teacher voice that was cuter (and fitter) than it had any right to be. "You're exceptionally bright."

"Ah, come on, mate," Charles mumbled, squirming. Edwin's arm round his waist locked as if it could sense an escape attempt incoming.

"You are. I remember your grades, before... well. Everything that occurred." He smoothed down the collar of Charles' fuck-ugly work shirt. "It's hardly your fault your final years went awry as they did. You could go back, take some courses at the local college. Try again."

"Right, sure."

Edwin huffed, frustrated. "I'm being quite serious, in the event that wasn't obvious."

"When aren't you?" Charles chuckled. He stared at the wall, at the stupid fucking boyband calendar their kooky upstairs neighbour gave Edwin for Christmas. Most of the writing on it was Edwin's, neat and tiny, scheduling tests and lectures and study blocks. Most of Charles' additions were just the word 'WORK', scribbled in on scattered days — more so Edwin knew when he was coming and going, rather than for his own benefit. Always different days, different times. Shift work; no chance to form a routine. He was never great at that, anyway.

"Not even sure what I'd do," he mumbled.

Edwin's palm on Charles' waist rubbed, soothing, grounding. "You never had something you wanted to study?" he asked. "Something you wanted to go into?"

"I..." His brow furrowed. It was so hard to think, sometimes. About times before now. Like all those bloody miserable years just blended into this mush of dread and misery. "I dunno what I wanted," he admitted. "Couldn't... couldn't think that far ahead, could I? I just wanted my mum to be alright. Wanted my dad to think I was worth something. Wanted not to hurt anymore."

He sniffed, and laughed, a watery sort of sound. His arm around Edwin's shoulders squeezed.

"Only thing I ever wanted and got back then was you," he said, flippant, like it didn't really matter. 'Cause it didn't really, did it? Wasn't some big confession or anything. Some deep, dark secret. Edwin knew. They both knew.

But Edwin breathed in sharply, a little ragged round the edges, so maybe he needed reminding now and again. "Charles..."

"Fuck," Charles chuckled, releasing Edwin so he could lean back and rub his eyes — so Edwin wouldn’t have his ear to Charles’ heart when it started beating too fast. "I'm shattered, mate. Dunno what I'm even saying anymore, do I?"

Maybe one of these days, he’d stop being too scared of the fucking size of his own feelings to sit with them a moment.

Maybe they both would.

Edwin sighed, pulling his hand from Charles' waist to pinch at the bridge of his own nose. "I suppose it has gotten rather late." He glanced at the clock, and winced. "Early. You should go and sleep. I'm sure you've had a long day."

Charles hummed, leaving his nice warm spot in Edwin's lap — but his hands didn't leave his shoulders. "C'mon, then," he mumbled, giving them a squeeze. "Bed."

"Better to go without me. I shan't sleep tonight."

"Didn't say anything about sleeping, now, did I?"

Edwin raised his eyebrow.

Charles' brain caught up to his mouth, and he laughed. "Ah — love to, darlin', but. Yeah, seriously, I'm fucking knackered. I meant, like — let's just have a bit of a cuddle, yeah?" He tugged at Edwin's collar where it poked out of his nice green jumper. It was a little crooked — Edwin must've really got into a study groove and unfastened a button or two. Fit as. "I proper fancy a cuddle."

"I'll be restless," said Edwin, all apologetic. "I'll only keep you awake."

Charles hummed, picking up the anthropology textbook and holding it out.

"Keep on reading, then," he said, giving Edwin the big, hopeful eyes he bloody knew he could never say no to. "Just... come read to me instead, yeah?"

Edwin had another dramatic sigh, like it was all such a big ask. He ought to tell that to his fucking smile lines. He took the book — and Charles' hand. "Well. I suppose I can manage that."

~

Charles didn't know how long Edwin stayed awake, in the end. Could've been hours for all he knew, he'd have had no idea — Charles had been asleep in bloody seconds. Head pillowed on Edwin's shoulder, that gorgeous voice rattling off dry old text blocks and making them sound like spoken-word lullabies... how could he resist?

All he knew was when he woke up, it was eleven in the morning, the sun was slanting through the crooked blinds; and Edwin was snoring softly underneath him. His hair a mess, his textbook open on his chest. His arm a slack, warm weight around Charles' shoulders.

Charles smiled, rubbed his dry eyes — forgot to scrub off his eyeliner before he konked out, again. Classic — and settled back in, nestling safe and sound into the the crook of Edwin's arm. Fuck it. It was Saturday. He'd asked Crystal to pick up his shift today, anyway, so him and Edwin could get a little quality time in.

If all they did with that time was sleep, well. Time well spent, innit? It wasn't like a smoke break from life when he did it with Edwin, anyway.

More like... stepping back to enjoy the view.

~~

Thanks for reading my loves, I hope it soothed the ache somewhat 💛 This has been a strange little one because I've essentially had to take something I very much wrote as a one-shot, and build onto what I established. When I wrote that first one-shot I didn't even have a clear idea in my mind for what Edwin was studying or anything! So things will likely change and grow and develop and who knows where we'll end up, but it's nice to see the lads figuring it out alongside me ^_^ Thanks for reading guys! It's been a bit of a long silence from me since Painland Week ended but I promise I'm working on stuff, including the next chapter of Lonely Bones! Regardless of what has happened to the show or whether it gets picked up or not, my plan is to keep writing and creating for it for as long as it sparks joy to do so - and seeing as I've made some amazing friends in this fandom, I think I'm gonna be here a while! I sure hope you guys are, too 💛 (p.s. if you are over 18, trustworthy with semi-secret identities, and like weird rarepair smut, feel free to DM me for my side Ao3 that I'm sure will be getting some action over the next few months xD)

[lynnzelds]

re4r leon kennedy x f!reader (kinktober prompt two - knife play)

resident evil kinktober masterlist

wc: 2,458 words

(tags: knife kink, p in v sex, unprotected sex, you and leon are enemies, quite a bit of bantering at the start bc that's just how i roll sometimes)

a/n: this wound up being a full length fic. whoops. i wrote most of this sleep deprived and it's also unedited. apologies for that in advance.

Oh, how you hate him.

He has you pinned underneath him, a knife pressed against your neck. You’re a mercenary sent to eliminate him–but you shouldn’t have underestimated the young agent. He’s already slipped out of your grasp several times, and now he has you bested in a knife fight. Your own blade lies abandoned on the concrete floor, just a few feet out of reach.

The cold, sharp blade digs into your neck, so close to breaking the skin and revealing the crimson that lies underneath it. With his non-dominant hand on your chest, he presses you into the ground harder. You squirm, and Leon instantly takes notice. But that’s the least of his concerns for now. “Who sent you after me?” he growls.

“Doesn’t matter,” you spit back. “Not when I’ll be delivering your head on a platter.”

He chuckles dryly. “Like you would.”

“Let go of me.”

“No, I think I’ll just stay like this.” His voice is gruff and deep as he shifts his weight so that his entire body is straddling yours.

“The hell are you doing?”

 He leans in so that his face gets closer to yours. His hips hold you down and he places his left hand on the ground next to your head while he keeps the knife against your throat. “I’m gonna stay put until you give me some information.”

You scowl. “Fuck you.”

He smirks. “Only if that’s what you want.” He slides the knife along your throat without drawing blood. The high-pitched whimper that leaves your lips afterwards is embarrassing, so much so that at this point you wish he’d just slit your throat and get it over with. 

“Now what was that?” he says with a laugh.

“Nothing,” you hiss.

“I think you’re enjoying this.” He continues to tease you with his knife, pressing the blade flat against your throat and watching how it makes you shiver.

“You think wrong.”

He chuckles. “It’s cute how in denial you are.”

“I’m not in denial!” you growl.

“You wanna test that?” he says, placing the sharp part of the knife against your throat once again. He applies pressure, and you moan as desire grows between your legs. 

Oh god. Why the hell is this turning you on?

“Told you so,” says Leon with a grin. “You’re enjoying this.” He removes the knife from your neck, and you nearly whine at the lack of contact. Your eyes eagerly track the knife as he slides it into the sheathe positioned on his collarbone, silently pleading to feel its sharpness on your skin again. You won’t say it out loud, though.

Leon is quick to notice the hunger in your eyes as you stare at his sheathed knife. He places his hands on either side of your head, kneeling over you on all fours, and that’s when you gaze into his soft blue eyes. This position seems a bit too intimate for your liking, but for some reason you find yourself unable to move away from him. 

“You want more?” he teases. “You greedy thing.”

“I hate you.”

“Not with the way you’re looking at me.”

“Go fuck yourself, Kennedy.” You use his last name because no way in hell does he deserve to hear you use his first.

“I could do that,” he says with a hint of a smirk on his lips. He leans in closer and brushes his lips against the side of your neck. “Or…” He lifts his knee and presses it against your clothed cunt. Your eyes widen and you shift around underneath him, trying not to make any noise. “I could fuck someone else. And I wonder who that someone could be.” He presses his lips to your neck, and your body shudders. 

You avoid eye contact, turning your head away from him. You’re not sure what scares you more–you not knowing if he’s joking or the possibility that he could be serious. You want it to be a joke, but the throbbing between your legs says otherwise. “Certainly not me,” you scoff.

“Yeah, definitely not you,” he responds as he pulls away, his tone thick with sarcasm. 

“Well, even if it was,” you say, despite knowing damn well he’s referring to you, “I came here to kill you, not for anything else.”

A low chuckle leaves his throat. “You’ve been doing a terrible job at accomplishing that. Makes me wonder if you’ve been letting me escape on purpose.”

That’s when you dare yourself to look at him, and you see a sly smile on his face.

“I think you want me,” he continues, pulling his knife back out of his sheathe and twirling the handle between his fingers. The blade catches the light as he does this. “I can see that look in your eyes.” Your breathing becomes more labored as you stare at the knife, anticipating what Leon would do with it. “I wonder…how would you feel if I fuck you senseless while I trace your skin with this? Bet you’d like that.”

Your eyes widen as heat washes over you. You involuntarily squeeze your legs together, hoping Leon won’t notice. But his eyes flicker to follow your movements immediately. His large, slightly calloused hands push your thighs back apart, his knife tucked between his right index finger and thumb. His thumbs trace along your inner thighs. You gasp and your body tenses, and Leon licks his lips at the sight as he leans in and whispers into your ear, “Keep your legs open, hun.”

He presses the knife flat against your crotch, then brings his face closer to yours. “Now let’s try this again,” he says, acting like he isn’t doing anything to you right now. “Who sent you after me?”

Keeping your legs spread open, he moves the tip of the knife along your clothed cunt. Your body reacts immediately; your fingernails dig into the cold floor, your eyes roll back slightly, and your lips tremble. “I’m not…telling you,” you breathe out.

But as he continues to tease between your legs with the knife, you find yourself becoming putty in the hands of Leon Kennedy. The name of who you’re working for slips between your lips like honey.

“Wesker.”

Ada Wong wasn’t the only one he had sent to this island. While she was tasked with retrieving the Amber, you had been tasked with eliminating the man who kept getting in the way of Wesker’s plans. Without Ada’s knowledge.

Leon doesn’t say anything for a while as he removes the knife from your body. He recognizes that name, having learned about Wesker during his time as an agent. He compresses his lips into a firm line. “Well, send my regards to that bastard,” he says, and he slides his hand under your head, lifts you up, and presses his lips to yours.

Your eyes widen as he holds the kiss for what seems like forever. You stiffen up, then relax as you allow yourself to close your eyes and return his gesture. He’s supposed to hate you. You’re supposed to hate him. You hardly understand why he’s kissing you in the first place, or why you’re kissing him back. All you know is that your desire for him boils deep in the pit of your stomach.

He sets his knife aside and undresses you while keeping his lips on yours. His fingers fumble with the buttons of your trousers. He slides them down, and more articles of clothing follow, the cold air on your skin as piece after piece comes off. 

“Already wet for me,” he whispers as he lifts one of your legs over his shoulder and kisses your inner thigh. His hot breath near your cunt is enough to send your mind reeling. He pulls away to reach for his knife. You close your eyes and bite your lip, feeling vulnerable being completely naked while he hasn’t removed a single article of clothing of his own. 

The sensation of something sharp dragging across your bare stomach has you jolting your eyes open. You watch as Leon draws circles on your lower abdomen with the knife, not enough to cut into your skin. He moves it lower before dragging it back up to your belly button, teasing you over and over. You can’t help but whine.

“Do you want my cock now?” Leon coos, watching how each movement of the blade has you squirming. “Do you think you deserve it?”

You stay quiet for a while, since your ego is too damn big for you to admit that you want him. But he already knows your answer, and the more his knife travels across the canvas that is your skin, the wetter you can feel yourself getting.

“Please,” you whimper. 

He chuckles at how pathetic you look. “You’re gonna have to say more than ‘please,’ love.”

The pet name doesn’t bother you for some reason. What does is that he’s forcing you to beg. You open your mouth, the words nearly getting trapped in your throat. “Please…I…I need your cock,” you manage to get out.

“Attagirl,” he says, unbuckling his belt with one hand with keeping his knife in the other. He slides down his trousers to his knees, and you can already see how hard he is through his boxers. He eagerly slides those down as well, the head of his cock already glistening with precum. Your heart races at how big it is.

Leon smirks at your reaction. “Look at you, so needy for my cock.” He leans down and drags his fingers along your folds before he pushes two of them inside your wetness. Your body shudders with pleasure, and you push your hips up to meet his fingers without thought. “Such a needy girl,” he says in response to your movement.

He slides his fingers in and out of you, but the moment you think he’s going to make you come on them, he pulls them out and brings his hand to his cock. “Mmpf–fuck,” he groans as he slides your wetness over his length. You feel a heat burn inside you as you watch Leon jerk himself off, his cock stiffening even more as your wetness mixes with his.

He reaches for you again, bringing your leg back over his shoulder as his tip prods your entrance. You eagerly shift your hips forward. “Please, fuck me,” you whisper, having given up on resisting him. 

Leon smirks. “Who knew the woman sent to kill me was such a dirty little slut underneath the tough, cold facade?” He pushes the tip of his cock inside you, and you bite your lip in anticipation. “Need more, love?” he says as he sees the sulking expression on your face. “You’ll have to ask for it.”

You swallow down your pride once more to respond. “Please…give me all of your cock. I need it.”

“Of course you do,” he says, and then he pushes himself deeper inside you, bottoming out without slowing down or giving you a chance to adjust to his size. A series of whimpers leave your lips as you bring your hands to his hair, gripping it between clenched fists. He groans at the pain, pulling out a bit before snapping his hips into yours. 

Your eyes roll back at the sensation as a low moan leaves your throat. Leon takes the knife and brings it back to your skin, tracing the tip of it under your breast while he thrusts into you relentlessly.  Your body shivers. “Ungh–you feel so good,” he mutters, his voice coming out raspy. He focuses on bringing you additional pleasure, pressing the flat of the knife against your nipple. Its coolness has you whining out his name.

Leon raises his eyebrows. “Did someone just use my first name for once?”

“Shut it,” you grunt out. You can already feel that knot coiling inside you as he continues to slam his hips against yours at a steady pace. You squeeze your eyes shut so he doesn’t see you rolling them back again.

“I think you like me,” he concludes.

“No, I hate you,” you say, your eyes still shut. You shift your focus to the way his cock hits that bundle of nerves inside you with each thrust. Your walls flutter around him.

“Not with the way you just moaned out my name.” He moves his left hand to your hip, holding you in place as he fucks you. The pleasure gets to a point where you can’t hold it in anymore, and moans spill out of your mouth. Your mind becomes a haze, and the words he had just spoken don’t even process.

Your body trembles Leon moves the knife from your breast down to your abdomen, and your stomach tenses as it travels lower and lower, past your belly button and near your lower region. Your walls squeeze around him tighter this time, and Leon groans.

The words flow out of your mouth before you get the chance to hold them back. “Please–I’m so close—please.” 

At this, Leon digs the knife into your flesh, nicking you with it. The light piercing sensation is enough to send you over the edge, and you tug on his hair hard as you come around his cock. “Ungh, shit–you’re squeezing the fuck outta me,” Leon groans, the added sensation of his hair being pulled on pushing him to the edge, and he soon follows as he releases himself into you. 

He continues to move his hips until you’ve both come down from your highs. He sets the knife on the ground and pulls out of you, observing the mess the two of you had made just now.

“Are you okay?” he asks, dropping the teasing act and giving you a soft look. He looks around the empty room for anything he can use to clean you two up. 

But you scoff, moving yourself away from him and scrambling for your clothes. 

“Looks like we’re back to that, huh?” he chuckles. “Can’t keep hating me forever, princess.”

You set your jaw, picking up your clothes and putting them on one by one. You’ll have to find somewhere else to get yourself cleaned up. God, if Wesker finds out you had sex with the man you were supposed to kill, of all people… You try not to think about that as you slip your shirt over your head, the last article of clothing. You look over to the exit, deciding that you'll give Leon one more chance to live.

“Aw, don’t worry.” Leon pulls his boxers and pants up and zips himself up. “You’ll get plenty of chances to kill me later.”

“Look forward to it,” you respond dryly, and with that, you head towards the door. (i'm terrible at endings I'M SO SORRY :/ thinking about doing a part two to this- I really enjoyed writing Reader and Leon's dynamic :3) kinktober prompt list by @flightlessangelwings

[alwayslurkinginthebackground]

After - A Pedrotober Drabble

Day Twenty-Eight of Pedrotober: Any Marcus Pedrotober Hosted by @norththelemon and @alyssamariag. View the full prompt list HERE and view my entire Pedrotober drabble catalog HERE.

Pairing: Marcus Acacius x f!reader

Rating: You already know it's E. Rough p in v (but also soft?), oral (fem receiving), pretty heavy hints of PTSD.

Word Count: 1414

a/n: Back by popular demand, our Roman Empire. This directly correlates to "Before," and the original fic "Fate," but neither is necessarily essential for you to understand this.

He comes back to you.

Against all odds, he's here. In your arms. Marked by scars that run in long lines across his skin, but with a heart that still beats surely beneath the surface. Your hands run through his hair slowly, trying to understand the way his mind has changed, too. To determine what you can do to help ease the horror you know consistently repeats there.

Because he never wanted this life. Not for himself. Not for you. Not for anyone in Rome.

"Marcus?" you question, easing one leg over his thighs so you're in his lap. The water is warm around you, a luxury you have largely gone without in the years since his departure, and you can feel the way your fingertips wrinkle after the time you've spent wading in it. "Marcus, please," you beg, hoping that you can draw him back to the surface and away from whatever is replaying behind his darkened gaze.

When he still doesn't respond, you kiss him, shifting in his lap so his hardening cock is pressed between you. Your hands run up the firm muscles of his chest to the sides of his face, trying to convey to him that he's safe through your touch. That for every day you marked on the walls of your chambers, you've thought only of him. Prayed to Mars that he would find his way home and to Jupiter that you would live to see it.

They answered, and for however short a time, they are allowing you this.

It's fleeting, the moments you share with him, because there is no question where his fate will lead him next. Back to the halls where you first fell in love, destined to exhibit the same strength that overtook entire cities. Vitality that is now nothing more than a simple amusement to the Emperors enthralled by the brutal battles that take place in their arena. It makes you frantic, the reality that at any moment he could be ripped from you again. Only this time, you are certain that there will be no return.

"Come back to me," you plead again, resting your forehead against his, determined to make the most of the present. Of the time you do have left. It takes a moment longer, but you know he's finally broken free from the confines of his mind when the wide expanse of his hand rests against the small of your back, pulling you ever closer. He finds his home against your neck and your head falls back, the ends of your hair dipping into the water.

Slowly, you rise on your knees, Marcus following your lead as he reaches between you to guide himself between your folds. "I love you," he whispers, the echoes of before lingering as he slides you back down, filling you completely in one swift motion. It's not close enough. It never has been and it never will be, but this in itself is a blessing. The feeling of him inside you, around you, here with you.

The way you were once so certain he wouldn't be again.

But there are moments where you wonder if the man who rocks into you now is the same one who murmured promises into your skin. Before, when your darkness turned to light in his presence and he vowed to take care of you. Before he was forced to complete his duty to the empire and returned to your arms broken and shattered.

In many ways, you're sure it is. You hear it in the way he says your name and how he holds you against him during the night. Feel it in the way he breathes you in every time your lips touch his. And when you can coax a laugh from the depths of his soul it sounds exactly how you remember, so full of life and love. The sound that is the very reassurance that the Marcus you know, your Marcus, is alive.

But there are hints of something else there, too. Something dark that looms at the edges of his reality. He's rougher, not just in appearance, but in the way he commands your body. So much of the gentleness you can recall seems lost on the battlefield and replaced by something raw and tinged with violence.

He lifts you from the water with ease, your legs wrapping around his waist as he carries you back to his bed without ever slipping from your core. The moon offers no light this evening, darkness only overpowered by the soft glow of candlelight, glistening on your wet skin as he lowers you to the bed. He pumps into you roughly once, then twice, before pulling out to turn you on your stomach, and you barely have time to crawl to your knees at the edge of the bed before he thrusts his cock home.

It doesn't hurt, the way he takes you, not truly, because you know it's what he needs. He needs to feel you, to use you, because you are the only one who can help him forget. This is what allows him the respite from the nightmares, to let the memories of his own inhumanity fade from existence as he loses himself in pleasure. Loses himself in you.

Marcus lets out a harsh groan, the pitch of his voice low. His breathing is erratic, and as you glance back at him over your shoulder, you notice the way his eyes are distant once more. Tense fingers grip at your hips, leaving indentations in your skin as he pulls you back against him at a rapid pace.

You let your arms give out beneath you, head falling into the sheets that still smell of sex. It changes the angle, allowing his shaft to ease deeper, and a moan flows from your chest at its impact. "Marcus," you mutter, your hand reaching behind you to grasp his wrist, to try again to drag him from the haze.

This time, it doesn't work.

He never falters, not even as he fights against the demons that threaten to consume him. He allows himself to be lost in you, in the way you feel around him, in the pleasure you ring from his body, and you take it all. You let him sculpt you like wet clay as he hauls your body against his, gripping at your breast as he buries himself inside you. A large hand dwarfs your own when he spills his seed in your welcoming heat, his breath heavy even as he bites into the delicate skin of your shoulder.

It's paralyzing, the way Marcus holds you like you are life itself. Grasping at it before it can shift just out of reach and clinging to it like a dead man walking. And in some ways, that's what you both are. Two souls fated for something beyond your control, destined to find each other, to consume each other, and to ruin each other in the process.

But again, the Marcus you remember returns. Slips back to the existence you share as he eases out of you, holding you in place at the edge of the bed when he drops to his knees and replaces his length with long fingers. Without hesitation, he runs his tongue through your folds, erasing the evidence he has left between your thighs, and it's familiar, the way he shifts the heavens and the earth before you come crashing down with a whimper and a whispered "I love you."

He remains with you in the aftermath, running a damp cloth across your skin and kissing away the marks he left in his wake. You let him tend to you, each whisper an apology for what he has done. Not just to you, but to the world. To every soul he has touched and every life he has destroyed.

You long to ease the pain that taints his heart, and you try. You try to relieve the agony by bringing his head to your chest to confirm for him that you're alive. That for however long the gods give you, he can return to this place where he will not be judged for his strength or for the atrocities he has committed.

And, you reassure him, that even if you cannot keep him here, you will follow wherever he goes. Regardless of time or place or life or death, you will pursue him. Into the after, into the beyond. Forever.

[feligamifebruary]

Parisiens, Parisiennes, dragons and birds of all horizons,

Once again, Feligami February is just around the corner, and you may already be thinking of the wonderful creations you will bestow upon us throughout the month. It will be our pleasure to archive them on this blog, in case our timeline gets erased, and to answer your most burning questions below.

1. Tell me about the event!

As I’m sure you’ve guessed, Feligami February is a month-long fandom event dedicated to our favourite lovebirds. The principle is simple: to tickle your brains (and hearts!) with our prompts, so you are inspired to create the content you want to see on Tumblr on AO3.

When the time comes, simply upload your creation(s) to the #feligami february and #feligami february 2025 tags, and make sure to tag this blog: it will ensure we spot your work, as easily as Felix spotted the Peacock Miraculous under Gabriel’s tie.

2. What kinds of content/themes are welcome?

Any and all creative media are welcome: art, fics, AMVs, playlists, cosplays, moodboards, web weaves… as long as you do the creating yourself, and not through AI. The only thing we’ll be stealing this month is cursed jewellery.

While you are welcome to explore the themes of your choice, we reserve the right not to interact with smut and potentially triggering content based on our own comfort levels. Please make sure to tag your pieces appropriately to ensure the event remains fun and safe for everyone.

Poly ships are welcome, as long as they include Feligami of course!

3. I’m not sure I can cover all prompts/post on time. Can I still participate?

Of course! The entire point of this event is to have fun. Don’t overwork yourself.

4. I have an idea, but it doesn’t align with any of the prompts. Can I still post it?

Please do! The prompts are here for inspiration, not to suffocate you. Break your chains.

5. The creative process can be a bit lonely. Where can I meet other cool, motivated, brilliant Feligami creators like myself?

We have a Discord server, where you can hang out with fellow Feligami fans, share your ideas, and take a peek at the amazing content coming your way! Think of it as our own little window, on which we all draw hearts for each other.

If you’d like to join, please follow this link to the art room, where you will not be subjected to a creepy hallucination-based play.

Without further ado, we wish you all a lot of fun, inspiration, and bone-chilling musical numbers! 🎶

Full prompt list below! 🦚🐉

Week 1: Tropes 🪶

1. Once upon a time

2. Duel

3. Anti-hero

4. You & Me Against The World

5. Alternate Universe

6. Monster

7. Home

Week 2: Celebration 💎🌹

8. Diamonds

9. Flowers

10. First kiss

11. Reunion

12. Birthday

13. Family

14. Valentines

Week 3: Freedom 💍

15. FREE

16. Amok

17. Miraculous

18. Emotion

19. Pretension

20. Disobedience

21. Waltz

Week 4: Art 🎨

22. Watercolour

23. Stage fright

24. Representation

25. Journaling

26. Re-creation

27. A new world

28. Happy ending

[doiefics]

shameless sexy stranger

pairing: jeno x afab!reader

prologue: what could go wrong in the middle of one hot moment with a shameless stranger in denim?

genre: smut

wordcount: 414

warnings: sexual content [ fingering + biting + risky ] + language

College fest days meant chaos everywhere. As if everyone was wearing rainbow tinted glasses.

But they also meant calm, at unusual places.

The best place to find solace for a blatant activity or two was indeed the library, otherwise too busy and tensed.

"Fuck!" You moaned at the boy's touch, again.

"You like it too much, huh?" He groaned back.

You gripped his ripped and muscular arm, this time a bit tighter than before as he brought his lean yet powerful physique closer to yours.

His face wore an attractive sinister smile on it, the smile that totally wanted to ruin you, exactly like you desired.

"What if someone catches us here?" His seductive whisper next to you ear sent shivers down as he ran his fingers tracing your flesh, never stopping and going deeper, and deeper.

"That won't be a problem." You mumbled, and the leering wink you gave him appeared to intensify his hormones.

"Such a freak!" He cursed under his breath.

It was not more than a few hours ago that your eyes happened to lock with this pretty boy on the street.

You had never seen him on campus before.

He dressed entirely in denim, with a sleeveless jacket shamelessly exposing his arms with and a pair of jeans that you wished could have been dropped to the ground.

"Hurry up!" This hot guy in denim was making you desperate.

He wasted zero time and lifted up your mini skirt, which was also denim, coincidently.

You glanced at his wrists as fingers were almost going to be invisible inside you by now.

Each wrist adorned with a silver chain bracelet.

He was fancy.

Simultaneously, the same fingers that only started with drawing careless circles around your clothed core, moved naturally as though they had mastered the technique by this point.

"More" You whined.

"Wait for it." He soothed.

Next thing you knew, he bit your neck, earning hisses out of a pain that you were enjoying.

He must have been feeling the same need as you since he considered moving your underwear to the side.

This activity was about to get more intense.

"Over there!" The cry was shrill.

Even in the pitch blackness of the book room, it appeared as though you had been caught.

"We're in trouble." He glared into your eyes and whispered in a low, husky voice.

"Are we?" Your ask was shameless, and sure was he, for he wasn't going to stop until you wished.

masterlist please refrain from plagiarising, translating or posting outside of this platform

have a request? prompt fic game is OPEN!

[fluentmoviequoter]

hii i love ur work smm!! is it okay if i can request a dalton lambert + prompt 11? “You’re lucky you’re hot.”

I LOVE UR DALTON IMAGINES/ONESHOTS WHATEVERR <333

Thank you so much!!! I appreciate your kind words and am so happy to hear that you love my Dalton fics! Thanks your reading and this request!

I got two requests for this prompt and actually had two ideas (which are both equally flirty and domestic), so I'm posting both. Read the ice cream date version here.

Warnings: fluffy and flirty, very brief/vague mention of insecurities. 0.4k+ words

A/N: We need more Dalton gifs. I've used this one already, but it's the only one that fits the 'fluffy' bill.

Join the 100 Follower Celebration!

Prompt 11: "You're lucky you're hot."

“Absolutely not,” you repeat for what feels like the hundredth time.

“Please,” Dalton drags out, putting on his best puppy dog eyes as he asks again.

“I am not letting you draw me. Especially not when you’re going to show it to your entire class.”

“But the whole point of the assignment is to focus on something we love, and I have an idea that is sure to get me an A!”

“Your grade is fine.”

Dalton huffs a sigh and collapses against his bed. “I thought I was loved, and now I must question everything.”'

“I know you’re an artist, but you don’t have to be quite so melodramatic.”

Dalton remains silent, and you consider his request. He begins tracing shapes against your hand as he lies beside you. Glancing at him, you realize how much he loves you, and you love him, and decide.

“Fine,” you say quietly. “You can draw me, but I have to approve it before you turn it in.”

“I love you so much,” he exclaims as he kisses you on his way to get his sketchpad and pencils.

“You’re lucky you’re hot.”

“I’m what?” Dalton asks, stopping as he reaches for a pencil.

“Lucky you’re hot. I wouldn’t let many people do this.”

“You think I’m hot?”

“Shut up, Dalton. You’re losing your chance.”

Dalton nods as he finishes gathering his things, then pulls his chair to sit across from you. He tells you to move and do whatever you want while he draws. You start stiff, but as Dalton comments and compliments you repeatedly, you begin to loosen up. When you realize you feel comfortable, Dalton announces that he’s done.

“Let me see,” you demand, reaching out.

“Nope. Answer my question,” Dalton responds, twisting so you cannot reach the sketch.

“If I think you’re hot? Of course, I do, Dalton. You’re the cutest, handsomest, hottest guy I’ve ever seen,” you answer honestly.

“That’s the only reason you let me draw you?”

You stand from the bed and take the sketch from him, placing it on his desk without looking at it. Lowering yourself into his lap, you set your hands on his shoulders while he holds your hips.

“No. I agreed because of everything in here,” you say, touching Dalton's forehead, “and here,” his heart.

“Oh.”

You lower your chin and kiss him, sighing as his hands pull you closer and he deepens the kiss.

“I let you draw me,” you begin as you pull back, leaning your forehead against his, “because I love you, and I know that you love me. You show me in everything you say and do. I appreciate you wanting to draw me.”

“Thanks for letting me.”

“Anytime. Can I see it now, since you’re still hot?”

“Only if you kiss me like that again.” You stand from his lap, and he grabs your hand, keeping you close as he adds, “And you’re the hot one, ask the picture.”

[sequinsmile-x]

I Knew You'd Linger Like a Tattoo Kiss - Chapter 1 - Wake-up Kisses

A series of unrelated one-shots and mini fics about the many types of kisses Aaron and Emily share.

-x-

Hi friends!

I hope you are all okay <3

This is for my dear friend @sometimesitswho who inspired this new little series!

The prompt list for this series can be found here! Feel free to send me some via my inbox/leave some in the comments if you don't have tumblr <3

This...got sadder/has more feelings than I intended...but it's also kind of soft.

As always, let me know what you think <3

-x-

Words: 2.3k

Warnings: Nightmares, pregnancy (tomorrow I will create a master list for this fic after i've had some sleep haha)

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

The first time it happens, they haven’t been together long. 

It isn’t the first time he’s slept over at hers, but it’s still new enough he has to think about the layout of her bedroom if he gets up to use the bathroom in the middle of the night, his shins bruised from walking into her dresser more than once. At first, he isn’t sure what has woken him up. He groans when he checks the time, blinking to clear his vision in the darkness of the room. 

That’s when he hears it, a pained whimper from the woman pressed up against him, her grip on his shirt tightening, her nails digging into his skin through the thin material. 

“Em?” He asks, switching on the lamp on the nightstand, “Are you…” He trails off when he realises she’s sleeping, her face screwed up in distress as she mutters something he doesn’t quite hear, whatever monster she’s fighting in her dream making her fold in on herself as she twists in his arms. His heart feels like it’s in a vice, wound tighter together with guilt and sorrow as she whimpers again, “Oh, sweetheart.” 

He was no stranger to nightmares himself. He’d wake up sometimes, his breath caught in his chest as he felt the blade of Foyet’s knife, or the warmth of Haley’s blood against his skin, his knuckles aching, scars that had long since healed about to burst open. At first, he’d barely slept when he got back from the hospital. His apartment quiet even though it had never been the home he’d shared with Haley and Jack, and every sound he heard was Foyet coming back to finish the job. Sleep only found him when he was away on cases. Cheap, lumpy mattresses more of a safe space than the place he lived. He’d still wake up from nightmares though, unsure if he’d actually screamed or if he’d imagined it. The echo of his dream following him into consciousness, his past only ever one step behind him - its hand stretched out to pull him back in. 

When Jack came back home, the house Aaron had bought with Haley now a wretched tomb instead of the place he’d once found sanctuary, he had nightmares too. His brain filling in the gaps of all he’d heard when he was lying in the chest in his father’s office, his monsters real and tangible when he would wake up screaming for the mother he’d never get to truly know. 

Aaron gathers Emily closer, easily sitting up with her in his arms. Despite his instinct to do so, he doesn’t hold her any tighter, doesn’t want to restrict her movement as he holds her lightly to his chest. The last thing he wants to do is make her nightmare worse, to add to it, so he sits there and rubs his hand up and down her back, repeatedly pressing kisses to any part of her face that he can reach, murmuring against her skin the entire time as he slowly draws her back to him. 

“You’re okay.” 

“You’re safe.”

“You survived.” 

She wakes suddenly, tense and stiff in his arms as she pulls herself out of his embrace, her eyes wide as he willingly lets her go, “Em, sweetheart, it’s just me.” 

She looks at him, her eyes wild and shining, her chest heaving as she looks around, her gaze finally locking on him, “Aaron?” 

She sounds so ragged, so unlike her, that it takes everything in him to not reach out and touch her, well aware from experience that it needed to be her who initiated any physical contact. 

“Yes, baby,” he says, painting on a soft smile he does feel connected to, the expression misplaced in the heaviness of her bedroom but hopefully reassuring, “It’s me. It’s Aaron.” 

She sinks into him, her forehead against his neck as she breathes him in, her chest shuddering so hard he feels it, the stutter of her ribcage against his palms as he pulls her closer. 

“Fuck…I…” she trails off, her words stuck in her throat, her grip on him tightening as he tucks her against his chest, feels the shiver of her shoulders even though her skin is warm to the touch. 

“I’ve got you,” he says, kissing her forehead, her temple, anywhere he could reach again, “I’ve got you.” 

She shifts, curled up in a way he’s sure must be uncomfortable, her cheek pressed against his chest so she can feel his heartbeat, “Can you…can you talk?” 

“About what, sweetheart?” He asks, desperate to help her in any way he can. 

“Anything,” she breathes out, “Please just…anything. I need to…”

She doesn’t have to say anything else, doesn’t have to tell him that she just needs to think of something other than the cold warehouse floor where she’d almost died. Where she had died. He says the first thing that comes to mind.

“Did I tell you that Jack’s teacher pulled me aside today?” 

She huffs out a shaky breath and shakes her head, “No.” 

“Well,” he says, resting his cheek on top of her head, his hand still moving in soothing circles on her back, “Apparently, a new kid called Caleb was being bullied by someone else in their class, and after Caleb was pushed in a puddle by this kid, Jack jumped in after him.” 

She chuckles breathlessly and pulls back to look at him, her eyes still shining, sticky tracks smudged down her cheeks, “He jumped in?”

Aaron hums and nods, wiping her cheeks, “The teacher had to tell me because he had to change into his spare clothes. She wanted to explain why the clothes he went to school in were covered in mud.” 

She closes her eyes and shakes her head, “He’s a sweet kid,” she says, pressing her forehead against his.

“He told me he wanted to make sure Caleb was okay, and that he knew he had a friend.” 

She smiles and kisses him, her lips against his for just long enough to press the taste of her tears against his, “Like father, like son.” 

He kisses her, his hand around the back of her neck as he holds her in place, his nails scratching at her scalp when he feels her now even breath skip across his face, “Want to talk about it?”

She shrugs, her lips pressed together as she swallows thickly, “Not really.” 

He nods, understanding more than most, and he encourages her to sit against him, her side against his chest as she snuggles back into him, “Want to hear more about what Jack got up to today?” 

He feels her smile against his neck, a silent answer before she whispers her response, “Yes please.” 

___

At first, she thinks the baby has woken her up. 

She groans, her hands automatically drifting to her stomach, the curve beneath her palm making her smile just like it always did. She was enjoying the changes to her body, loved that she actually looked pregnant now and not just like she’d had a big meal, but she could do without the frequent trips to the bathroom. She’s about to quietly chastise the baby, whisper her usual half-hearted annoyance to her son about being woken up because he’d kicked her bladder, when she realises he hasn’t woken her up at all. 

Aaron tightens his grip on her even in sleep, his arm heavy over where her waist used to be, his hand in a fist around the covers lying over her. He’s murmuring something she can’t quite catch under his breath, his body tense as he pulls her closer, protecting her from whatever it was he could see in his dream. 

The first time she’d had a nightmare in front of him, she’d been embarrassed. She’d pressed her face against his chest as he told her all about his son, now their son, and apologised, cutting him off halfway through his story about Jack’s obsession with the sharks at the aquarium. Aaron had kissed her, his lips still just about touching hers when he told her she had nothing to apologise for, that he knew all too well how it felt to be haunted by a dead man. 

She knew he was telling the truth, but it was confirmed just a few days later after she woke up to him knocking on her hotel room door in the middle of the night, breaking their rule of never on cases less than six weeks after they’d set it. His eyes had been wild and shining when she’d opened the door wearing one of his shirts, something she’d stolen to try and settle herself that night, already too used to sleeping next to him. She’d known what had happened without him saying anything, the look on his face, the half-crescent indents in his palms gave him away immediately. She’d pulled him into her room and locked the door behind them and led him over to her bed. He’d curled up against her, his head against her chest in a way that made him seem like a little boy, an image distorted by his large hand grasping at her waist, his thumb and little finger skimming her ribcage and her hipbone. 

In some ways, she hated that they had this in common, that they each knew what it was like to stare into the abyss and have it stare back, but in another way, one that felt entirely selfish, she was glad he understood. Sure that she would never have been able to let herself fall apart in front of someone who didn’t understand as he did, the knowledge that he knew what it was like was enough to let her let him pick up all the pieces of her and slot them back into place. 

He was, after all, the only one who knew where all the pieces went. 

She rests her hand over his and eases it away from the comforter, sandwiching it between the two of hers as she lifts their hands to her face, first pressing her cheek against his knuckles before she starts to kiss them one by one. Focusing on the scars she doesn’t need to see to know where they are, evidence of when he’d torn himself apart for vengeance for the last woman he’d loved. 

She draws him back to her, feels his grip briefly tighten before he tenses behind her, his breath harsh and fast against the back of her neck. 

“You’re okay,” she says quietly, unwrapping one of her hands from around his to switch on the lamp on the nightstand, still squeezing his hand tightly with the other, “It was just a dream.” 

“Em?” 

She hums and sits up, scratching her nails across his scalp as she encourages him to look up at her, “It’s me, sweetheart,” she assures him, “It’s your Em.” 

She usually called him honey. It was the first nickname she’d tried on him, the taste of it as sweet as the nectar it was named after, as sweet as the smile on his face when she called him it. She only ever called him sweetheart in moments like this, when he looked afraid as if he’d somehow lost everything again, because it always made her feel better when that’s what he called her. 

He slides towards her, only sitting up enough to rest his head on her chest, his cheek against her breast as he places his arm over her bump, his palm resting where he knew their little boy kicked the most. They lay in silence for a little while, her nails scratching idle patterns on his scalp as his breathing slowly returned to normal, the warmth of it fanning out against her skin. 

“You know,” she says eventually, resting her cheek on top of his head as she wraps her arms around him, “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say this was just an excuse to press your face against my breasts.” 

He laughs, a broken sound that cheers her up nonetheless. He turns his head just enough to kiss the closest bit of skin he can, his lips catching the edge of the brand left behind by a man who had once killed her. 

“You’ve got me,” he says wryly, his voice cracking still, “I can’t believe you saw through my plan.” 

She smiles and kisses the top of his before she rests her cheek against it again, wanting him as close as possible. They turn serious again, as they always did on nights like these, and she whispers, “Want to talk about it?” 

“No,” he replies, and she knows it’s because she’s heard it all before, that it was nothing new, so she seeks out his hand, linking their fingers over where their son rolled beneath her skin. 

“Jack told me he had some ideas for how we could decorate the nursery today.” 

She feels his smile against her skin, feels the way he clears his throat, their tradition something they both held fondly. It had started that first night when she’d been torn from sleep, unfocused and panicking as she asked him to talk about anything and he’d spoken about Jack. It was something they carried on doing, idly talking about the little boy, even if it was something the other knew, until they felt better or fell asleep. She knew that soon enough their son would be in the mix too, that they’d talk about him as well as his older brother. A much needed reminder of what they’d survived everything for, what they had now they’d fought their way here. 

“Oh yeah?” 

She hums, “Apparently,” she says, smiling as the baby kicks, “He thinks the baby will like dinosaurs.” 

He chuckles, his laugh already sounding more like his own, and he tilts his head to look up at her, his smile soft and his eyes looking like nothing short of the future, “I guess I’d better find some dinosaur stencils for the walls then.” 

She leans down to kiss him, ignoring the crick in her neck, and smiles as she pulls back, “Yes, I think you should.” 

[loki-cees-all]

Nothing to Fear {Avengers!Loki x GN!Reader One-Shot}

Cee's Loki Fic Masterlist / A03 Link

Pairing : Avengers!Loki x GN Reader

Summary : The mission didn't go quite as planned, and it left you with questions over the practicality of your relationship. But of course, Loki always knows just what to say.

W/c : 1.5k words

Content / Warnings : Fluff, Hurt/Comfort

Author's Note : For my beautiful and favorite niece @sarahscribbles, for her Birthday Celebration, using her prompt "You never have to fear that you’re losing me." Enjoy, my dear 💚

⊱ ─ ༓ ── ⋅•⋅⊰ ─  ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ∙ ⋅  ─ ⊱⋅•⋅ ── ༓ ─ ⊰

You needed to be closer to him, and dull pain flared to life as you shifted in your seat. The effort to move even that much after the grueling mission was taxing, but the comfort he provided was worth more than the unexpended energy. Fingers weaved together as your temple found his broad shoulder, and you breathed a long sigh of relief. 

At long last, the adrenaline had begun to fade from your system, and your senses slowly switched off. And once at cruising altitude, the Quinjet’s engines mercifully drowned out the other Avengers’ voices inside the cabin; Tony and Steve were arguing again - this time over why they had failed to acquire the intel they were after, and it seemed like the disagreement was going to last all night. 

You and Loki were the only team members not participating in the immediate post-mission analysis, because as long as you were both returning home safely, you considered the expedition a rousing success. And there would be plenty of time for discussion later; for now you just wanted to enjoy the proximity of your lover.

Heavy eyelids drifted closed, and your lips curved into a soft smile as you felt his press against your hairline. The mission had been harrowing, but moments like these - the quiet intimacy of shared relief - almost made it worth the stress. 

Almost. 

An image flashed in your mind, causing your heart to thud momentarily in your chest. The team had been split into two groups, and as you, Loki and Steve infiltrated the facility, you found yourselves ambushed by a swarm of Hydra agents armed with flamethrowers. 

Ordinarily, it wouldn’t have been that significant, but the terror in Loki’s eyes certainly was. The entire ordeal had only lasted for a second or two, but his fear was palpable, and so was the heat. The woosh of the flamethrowers overpowered Steve’s shouting, and the flames singed your clothing as Loki yanked you behind him. 

His seidr was unusually quick at that moment. Normally, he preferred drawing his combatants out into clever banter in between blows; it was his favorite method of distraction and interrogation in his seemingly endless chest of tricks. But instead, he unleashed a sudden, massive barrage of emerald energy that took the Hydra agents out all at once - before they could even be questioned.

It was impressive, as he always was, but it left you absolutely rattled, and despite how relaxed he appeared on the outside, you knew Loki was feeling the same thing. 

And you were sure Steve had also recognized the expression on Loki’s face as his seidr dissipated and reality sunk in. But like all good leaders, he was kindly keeping that information to himself, despite how pissed Tony was that they were returning home with nothing. 

It had only been six months since Loki was freed from Thanos’ control. Only half a year separated him from those horrors, and every day you spent falling in love with him meant realizing how close to death it was possible for him to be. 

But had Loki’s overreaction been because he feared for his life, or for yours? Was your relationship making everything easier between battles, while simultaneously making them worse inside them? 

You knew that letting yourself believe this Asgardian God to be invincible was a mistake, one you couldn’t afford to make. But perhaps you being mortal was a complication neither of you could overlook any longer. Anything could happen at any time, and if relatively simple Midgardian weapons were enough to - 

“Something on your mind, dear?” Loki murmured, apparently having sensed the flashes of tension still pulsing in your veins. 

He was so talented at picking up subtleties in your body language, much to your own chagrin sometimes. You cracked open an eyelid to peak at him, and were unable to resist a smile as you took in Loki’s serene and exhausted expression. 

Too tall for his own good, he had to shift down in the seat to lean his head back and achieve any semblance of comfort. But despite that, he still managed to exude an aura of elegance and solace unmatched by anyone else.

And even with his eyes closed - even while lingering on the edges of sleep - he could still tell when something was off. 

“So, are you waiting to share until I’m fast asleep in our bed? Is that your evil plan?” Loki teased after you didn’t answer, just loud enough for you to hear as he shifted his arm to pull you closer.

“What a jerk…” you grumbled playfully, rolling your eyes even as you curled tighter against his side. 

Loki only chuckled, his fingers rubbing against your waist, tracing lazy circles as he rested his head on top of yours and waited patiently for your elaboration. 

Everyone else on the team had long since settled in their seats for the long flight back to New York, and Tony and Steve’s squabbles had finally died down; the only sound now was Loki’s soft voice in your ear in the darkened cabin. 

And while the quiet ambiance was certainly comforting - a welcome distraction from the chaos that had erupted inside that Hydra facility - you were also tempted to start another fuss amongst the other team members, just to ensure no one could hear your conversation. 

But doing so might doom Loki to having his personal business shared with the team, and that was something you knew he desperately didn’t want. 

Resigning yourself to maturity, you took a deep breath, inhaling the spicy notes of amber, wood, and myrrh lingering on his skin, before answering. “I was just thinking…do you ever second-guess this? I mean, us?” 

“No.” Loki’s answer was immediate, as if he had been expecting the question. His hand shifted, molding itself along the curve of your waist and squeezing to emphasize his words. “No, I don’t regret you, my love.” 

“That’s not entirely what I meant…” you sighed, but not out of frustration. You were almost afraid to bring it up, worried about speaking it into truth. “Every time we leave the Tower, it could be the last time we…” 

Loki twisted in his seat, bringing his other hand to tilt your chin upwards to meet his gaze. His emerald eyes almost glowed in the dim light of the cabin, casting an ethereal, comforting aura around you. Truthfully, you couldn’t be sure he wasn’t actually casting a spell, but you appreciated it all the same. 

“No, I don’t regret you,” Loki repeated softly, looking directly into your eyes with the kind of sincerity that made your heart ache for him. “Nor do I regret anything involving you.”

You swallowed hard, pulling your lower lip between your teeth. It wasn’t like you to be this uncertain, and you felt guilty about bringing it up at all, but it needed to be addressed. “But what if something happens to either one of us?”

Loki’s fingers drifted to the frayed seams of your jacket, absentmindedly pulling at the burnt threads as his brow furrowed and unfurrowed. You could almost see the gears turning in his mind as he weighed his options on how to respond before that familiar and confident grin graced his features once more. 

“Such little faith you have in me, darling,” Loki replied, his voice dripping with amusement. “I assure you, you’ve nothing to fear…”

His hand moved to cradle your jaw, brushing his thumb across your cheekbone, and he leaned in close, his lips hovering just above yours. 

“You know I’d never let anything happen to me…” he whispered teasingly before pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. 

You weren’t sure what to feel - annoyed by his joke, intoxicated by his demeanor, or surprised that you were feeling both simultaneously. But even when he was joking, there was a sliver of truth in every word, and if nothing else, he always kept his promises. 

“But more importantly,” Loki continued after pulling away, murmuring softly as he rested his forehead against yours. “I’d never let anything happen to you, my dear.” 

You nodded, believing every word as you reached up to caress his face. His lips curved into a smile as he pressed them into your palm. How was he so talented at weaving truth and tricks together? How was it so effortless for him to assuage any fear you ever held?

"Promise?” 

“I promise…” Loki chuckled, pulling you back to lean against his shoulder. His eyes closed again as you rested together, one hand still lingering on your waist, and the other enveloping yours on your lap. 

It was dangerous to be a part of this team, and it was borderline idiotic to fall in love with someone in this same line of work. Not many heroes ever managed to acquire a truly happy life, and maybe this was going to end terribly someday. 

Or maybe it wouldn’t. Maybe everything would end perfectly, the way it was meant to. With a God and a mortal, and their unconditional love, anything was possible.

⊱ ─ ༓ ── ⋅•⋅⊰ ─  ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ∙ ⋅  ─ ⊱⋅•⋅ ── ༓ ─ ⊰

Tag List : @infinitystoner @sarahscribbles @lunarnights95 @buttercupcookies-blog @mischief2sarawr @use-your-telescope

Click here to be added to my Loki fic tag list! 💚

[exitvelocities]

Kiss prompt: post canon - dfs has never kissed or been kissed before

fic meme is still open! just added a new meme i'll take requests for as well.

*

"what, really?" li lianhua says, and di feisheng turns away, shoulders stiff.

"why would i lie?" his voice is hard but li lianhua knows him well enough to see the fine cracks in his mask, to wonder at what's underneath. "i haven't, i don't—" di feisheng's jaw works silently. his ears are tinged red. ah.

li lianhua draws closer, steps around him until he can see di feisheng's face again. he lifts a hand to touch, applies gentle pressure until di feisheng is looking at him. "i'm sorry," he says softly, "i didn't mean to upset you."

"who would i have been kissing," di feisheng says finally, "if not you?" his mouth twists like he wants to take the words back immediately. li lianhua doesn't let him.

"have you thought about it?" he asks, smoothing the collar of di feisheng's robes with his free hand. di feisheng is so still li lianhua isn't entirely sure he's breathing.

"have you?" he says finally, jaw thrust forward like this, too, is a battle. li lianhua puts both hands on his face, fondess bubbling up in his chest, overflowing like a rill swollen with rain. this man.

"sometimes," li lianhua says with his half moon smile, "when i let myself." di feisheng looks like he doesn't quite trust the admission but he's not pulling away. "oh, a'fei," li lianhua says, "it doesn't have to be complicated." that's halfway a lie because everything about them is complicated, but li lianhua is confident in hard won his ability to simplify.

he lifts himself up onto his toes and presses a delicate kiss to di feisheng's lips. "see?" he says.

di feisheng looks at him for a long time, flickers of emotion playing across his face too fast to read. that's okay, li lianhua thinks. after everything, what they have is time.

"that easy?" di feisheng says finally, and li lianhua nods, hands dropping to di feisheng's broad shoulders.

"it's as easy as we make it," he says and di feisheng looks thoughtful.

"all right," he says and, leaning down, kisses li lianhua again.

[writing-abt-headspaces]

Mishap At The Moth’s Studio

A/N: Okay, so. I hate Val, but love his character outside of the Angel stuff. So, I’ll give you guys a warning first.

⚠️WARNING⚠️: Valentino will not always be portrayed the same, in every agere fic he’s written in. Depending on how I want to portray him in a fic, he will either be Good or Bad, Better or Worse, or in between.

And here, in this fic, he’s in between. —The same goes for the other Vees too, btw. They won’t hurt Angel, but they will act like amateur babysitters. There’s also swearing.

Forgive me, for I’m not used to writing for agere. I’m just starting, so I might be a bit sloppy.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Angel sat in his chair as the minutes ticked closer to shooting the next scene.

However, he was feeling uncharacteristically anxious.

Why?

Well, he had only recorded three scenes, and his mind already started feeling fuzzy from exhaustion, plunging him into a state of fear and vulnerability. He couldn’t let anyone outisde of the hotel —let alone, anyone at Val’s studio and Val himself!— see him regressing!

However, being surrounded by unfamiliar faces and the hustle and bustle of the studio, Angel's senses were overwhelmed, and he couldn't contain his distress. He couldn’t stay big.

He eventually started slipping.

Tears streamed down his face as he cried out, drawing attention from the crew members and actors preparing for the next shoot. Their confused and concerned stares only added to Angel's anxiety.

The looks from multiple eyes, scared and prompted Angel to seek refuge under the nearby bed he had just finished recording on.

Valentino, normally quick to anger, was taken aback by Angel's behavior and quirked an eyebrow at the spider’s sudden action.

He’s seen Angel scared before, sure. But, for him to suddenly start bawling like a child, then hiding under the bed? That’s not something you see everyday.

Valentino walked towards the bed, and crouched down to meet eye to eye with the cowering spider. “Angel, what the fuck are you doing under there?" The moth questioned, slight irritation evident in his tone.

Angel whimpered and covered his ears, his speech reduced to childish babbling. "No no! Bad words are bad!" he protested, his voice trembling with fear.

Valentino, completely baffled by Angel's sudden change behavior, could only blink in disbelief.

“What the hell...?" he muttered under his breath, but Angel heard him loud and clear. In response, he burrowed even deeper under the bed, seeking refuge from Valentino's confusion.

Growing increasingly irritated, Valentino sternly commanded Angel to come out from his hiding spot, his words laced with curses. “Alright, Angel! Enough with this game! Cut the horseshit and get the fuck out of there! Don’t make me tell you again, you little mocoso!”

But instead of complying, Angel shrank further into the shadows, his fear of Valentino consuming him entirely.

Valentino stood up with gritted teeth, as he pulled out his phone and dialed a number. He held it up to his face, glaring at Angel's trembling form still hidden beneath the bed.

Vox answered the video call. On the other side of the screen, the TV demon rolled his eyes dramatically. "What did Angel do to piss you off this time, Val?" he quipped, his attention focused on something off-screen.

Valentino scowled at Vox's nonchalant attitude. "How'd you know this was about Angel?"

Vox finally glanced at Valentino through the video call. "You're always bitching about Angel. So spill, what's the latest drama between you two?"

Valentino angled the phone's camera towards the bed, revealing Angel's tear-streaked face as he cowered beneath the bedcovers, all four of his arms shielding his eyes from the world.

“Angel's acting like a damn toddler. Won't come out from under the bed, crying and whining like a little brat." The moth explained.

Vox's expression shifted from amusement to curiosity as he watched Angel's distressed state, raising a brow.

Valentino asks, “Any ideas on what type of high the bitch is on?”

“Potty mouth!” Angel points at Valentino.

“SO ARE YOU!”

Ignoring the banter, Vox turns away, “Hang on. I think I’ve seen this before. Give me a sec…” Quietly, he began typing on his keyboard, searching for information on the ‘symptoms’ he was witnessing.

After a moment of silence, Vox looked back at Valentino, his demeanor more serious now. "Val, I think Angel might be experiencing something called ‘age regression’…”

He explained, his voice softer than before. "It's a coping mechanism where someone reverts to a childlike state in times of stress or trauma."

Valentino's frustration subsided as he process the information given. "So, what do I do?

Vox rubbed the space on his screen between his eyes. “I don’t normally care about this stuff… But, if anyone knew a regressor was hired as one of your ‘stars’…. Well, let’s just say you wouldn’t like what caregivers would do to you.”

He leaned closer to the camera, his gaze serious. "You need to approach him gently and calmly, like you would with a scared child. Try to reassure him that he's safe and that you're here to help," he advised, his tone firm.

Valentino's brows furrowed at the given instructions, "I'm a pimp, Vox. Not a babysitter!" He yelled into the phone.

Vox raised an eyebrow, unimpressed by Valentino's outburst. "Well, your favorite boy toy isn't gonna perform properly until he's done regressing. And we can’t take him out of the V Tower, in that state. Witnesses are everywhere. ‘Cause unless you know the passcode to his phone, and call up anyone from the hotel, the only option is to take care of him, until he’s big enough to walk home by himself.

He looked at the moth dead in the eye, his tone unyielding. "Suck it up and deal with it."

"Ugh! Fine! Whatever!" Valentino grumbled, his frustration evident as he muttered curses in Spanish under his breath. "But how the hell do you propose I get him out from under the damn bed?"

Vox leaned back in his chair, a smirk playing on his lips. "Try offering him something comforting, like a plush toy or a blanket," he suggested. "And speak to him gently, like you actually give a damn. It might just do the trick."

“I’ll consider the sweet talking, but I don’t have any of those type of toys! What industry do you think I’m in charge of!?” Valentino snapped at the flat faced demon.

“Well then…! I don’t know!? Use your wings!” Vox yelled back.

Valentino blinked, taken aback by Vox's unconventional suggestion. "My wings?" he repeated.

Vox nodded, "Yeah, they're pretty fancy looking for a kid’s liking. Turn your back to Angel, spread your wings out, and flutter them up and down to attract his attention. Get him to chase you like a butterfly," he explained, biting back a laugh at his own suggestion.

"I'm a moth," He pointed out, feeling the need to clarify.

"Same difference! Just fucking do it," Vox insisted. “And get on all fours. You’re ten feet tall, you’re height’s probably scaring him.”

Valentino sighed, realizing he had little choice but to trust Vox's advice. So, he set the phone on a nearby desk, so Vox can still see them.

With a resigned shrug, Valentino positioned himself with his back to Angel, getting down on all fours to be at his level once more, and spread his wings out wide. With a tentative flutter, he began to move them up and down, hoping to catch Angel's attention and coax him out from his hiding spot beneath the bed.

Vox struggled to contain his laughter as he watched Valentino reluctantly follow his instructions. "Pfft…! O-Okay, keep doing that with your wings.” A snort slipped out of him.

“Now, crawl away from him. Get him to crawl after you," he instructed, barely able to stifle his amusement.

Valentino shot Vox a glare, his patience wearing thin. "Fuck you," he muttered under his breath, careful not to startle Angel again. Because, he was apparently sensitive to profanity in this state. Oh the irony.

But Vox couldn't help himself. "It's working, isn't it?" he teased, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "Now, try to coax him in a baby voice. Lure him out by cooing at him."

“Oh, for fuck’s sake…” Valentino let out an exasperated groan and facepalmed, feeling utterly ridiculous. “Fuck my life….”

Ignoring Vox's laughter, he continued to flap his wings and lure Angel out from under the bed. "Here, Angel... Come here, Angelcakes. Pspspss…” He cooed, his voice strained with humiliation.

"BWAHAHAHAHA—"

"Shut the hell up, Voxxy!" Valentino snapped, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment. “I swear to hell, I’m going to hang up!”

Meanwhile, the rest of the set crew struggled to contain their own laughter, the scene unfolding before them more amusing than any script they had ever read. But, they all knew they needed to keep to themselves, unless they wanted to feel thwarted wrath of their later.

Thankfully, the stupid strategy Vox came up with, seemed to worked. Angel, started crawling out of his hiding spot. His eyes shimmered with awe as he stared at the fluttering wings.

“Oooh!” Angel gasped with fascination. “Butte’fwy!”

A tick mark formed on the Val’s head. “I’M NOT A—“ He groaned, and decided to just accept it. “Yes… Butterfly! Follow the pretty butter—OOF!”

The moth fell right on his face, his glasses slightly cracked, when Angel had suddenly leaped and tackled him to the ground.

Angel fiddled with the moth’s wings and fluff. “Mr. Butte’fwy is ‘o pwetty!”

Valentino sighed, as he slowly pushed himself up from the ground, taking off his glasses and setting them on the same desk as his phone where a hysterical Vox was.

“Ohohoho This is tohoho good! I can’t wait to send this to Velvette!” Vox cackled, wiping a tear from his eye.

The moth glared at him, “You were recording us!?”

“Why wouldn’t I? Bwahahaha—WHOA!” Vox fell off his chair in a loud crash.

After 3 seconds of spewing out some colorful words, he picked himself back up.

Valentino rubbed his temples, as he tried to maintain his balance, while a hyper Angel Dust was crawling up his back and harshly pulling at his wings. “Look… could you come over here…? I don’t if you’ve heard Voxxy, but ‘child friendly’ isn’t really the rating I specialize in.”

“You think I’D know how to handle a child, let alone someone in their little headspace?” Vox asked, dramatically placing a hand to his chest. “Vel may call me in all the time, to calm your temper tantrums, but that doesn’t mean I know how to change a diaper.”

Then the realization dawned on Valentino. “H-He… doesn’t actually need a diaper… right?”

Vox gave him a smug, shit eating grin. “That depends on what age range he’s regressed into.”

Then he turned his eyes to Angel, “Hey, Angie!” The TV demon, called to the spider, using his friendly showman voice. “How old are you, huh sport?”

Angel paused in his self-entertainment, and looked at Vox with doe eyes. He then looked at the ceiling, and bit his finger while thinking.

Then, he held up three fingers and enthusiastically answered, “This much!”

Vox looked back at a petrified moth, and smirked. “Good luck. Better pray to hell, he doesn’t need to go.”

Valentino, snatched his phone from the desk. “Vo—“

The call ended.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

I decided to stop here, for now.

The next part will have Velvette, and Vox will show up in person.

[maythedreadwolftakeyou]

WIP Wthursday

meant to post yesterday and then forgot bc of who i am as a person so, whoops. anyway, current state of affairs

embroidery:

absolutely 0 progress on the Hermit since i last posted it in like mid september. whoops. i WILL finish this thing by veilguard i swear but for some reason it's just grueling every step of the way. meanwhile, i'm banging out this mini version of The Tower in like 4 days. I want to post the pattern/thread colors I made for my big design, but i feel guilty selling a pattern for a piece where i hand-dyed at least 5 of the colors involved. So I'm making a second version with only commercially available colors as an alternative (and a slightly less saturated background), and I'll include both color guides as options.

haven't made any new digital designs/patterns since the last one of the qunari dialogue symbol. considering making a new one for another piece of art to copy out, but currently unclear on how to get the proportions for the frame accurately copied into photoshop because I want to try an oval frame instead of circular so... yeah. we'll see.

writing:

went digging through my old WIPs folder and found a k!meme prompt fic for Lavellan getting hit by a truth spell that I'd basically almost finished and then just... completely forgot about I guess? it's a silly premise and under 15k so it must have just poofed from my brain when I moved and lost track of all my then-projects.

           Just the memory sends a flush down the back of her neck, her heartbeat skipping inside her chest like a stone over water. She can almost feel it, even here, her legs aching after a days of travel. The warmth of his body against hers in the cold air of the mountains. The unexpected passion of their kiss, the pressure of his lips crushing against her own, driving all other thoughts from her mind.             The way just beforehand he’d still hesitated, almost tearing himself away.             That’s the real problem, she thinks to herself, as she tries to ignore the wet slapping noise the drenched fabric of her robes makes with every step. She just can’t reconcile the intensity of his words with the way he keeps drawing himself back again. Every time she considers making another move, she can’t help but think that maybe it will be what convinces him she’s not worth the trouble after all.             Ar lath ma, he’d told her, despite it all.             She has no idea how to respond to something like that.

the first two and final chapters are entirely finished, while 3/4 are more disjointed segments that need some fleshing out. but i'll probably just go ahead and post the first bit soon because why not. maybe that'll push me to clean it up faster. i'll also be honest. half of this fic is like... the prompt premise, and the other half is just. me wishing i was out backpacking. i wrote it the summer of lockdowns when i went from working outside 5 days a week to bedroom WFH prison, and its funny rereading now like. oh yeah so i was going fully insane about not being the one camping myself, huh.

Anyway. otherwise I also started another new short thing for my still currently nameless No-Longer-Lavellan from reunion, but it's only a couple hundred words and some vague notes so far. Not sure if I'll turn it into something more polished or leave it as general musings. I wish I could draw better because I have way more concrete visions for visual art for that whole scenario but, alas.