#he is MISS autumn honey

[ms-nesbit]

why the batfamily likes fall

they don't (summer/spring stans): duke thomas, cassandra cain

leaves are pretty when they change colors: dick grayson, bruce wayne

everything dies (also halloween): barbara gordon, tim drake, kate kane

"i hate fall" (has a countdown on their phone starting august 1st): damian wayne

pumpkin spice LYFE: jason todd, steph brown

[sanarsi]

You’re doing great, sweetie

no-outbreak!professor!Joel Miller x student!f!Reader

Summary: You came to your professor to ask for help with your essay. He accidentally discovers one of your dirty secrets which is him. Warnings: +18, MDNI, age gap (reader is 20, Joel is 50), soft!dom!Joel (oh you’re gonna love him), unprotected/protected PIV, pet names (honey, baby, sweetheart, sweetie), blowjob, fingering, cum eating Wordcount: 4,8k An: I am WEAK for caring and sweet Joel so that's who he is here. He’s wonderful and I love him with all my heart so I hope you love him too xx Music I worked with: Ultraviolence - Lana Del Rey

Masterlist

Studying was hard. You shed sweat and tears there.

You tried.

You really tried.

Despite this, you weren't proud of yourself. You knew you could do better. You were like an executioner to yourself. Sleepless nights, thousands of notes and liters of coffee. That's what it cost you to pass a measly 95%.

Fucking 95%.

Where's the missing 5%? Where did you make a mistake that cost you as much as 5%? You had no idea. But you knew where you could find out.

Professor Miller's office was always open. Always invited stray students. Or in your case, perfectionists. Always welcomed with warmth and the smell of herbs. His office was a place of momentary respite and the feeling that the world wasn't really running, it was you. And that's why when you knocked on his door and were greeted by his warm smile, you finally felt like you could breathe.

“Professor,” you said with a smile, tightening your grip around a few notebooks.

"My favorite student," he replied in a warm but tired voice. No wonder, it was Friday and already late. Nothing worse than you could have happened to him.

“I'm sorry to disturb-”

“You know very well that you never disturb me,” he interrupted you immediately. You pursed your lips into a line, feeling your stomach tighten. He was always like this... And you still haven't gotten used to it. "Come in, I'll make you some tea," he offered, moving to the side. You smiled nervously and slipped inside.

"Actually, I prefer coffee."

"Coffee then," he nodded, closing the door and heading towards what replaced the small kitchen. You placed the stack of notebooks on the table and placed your bag on the ground. You looked around the office decorated in shades of dark brown and beige.

Everything here was thought out. Delicate accessories. Perfectly arranged books. Large oak desk. A table and a few chairs. And a large leather sofa by the window.

You liked being here. But the office itself was not enough. It was Professor Miller who gave it life. It was his energy that permeated every inch that made you feel at home here. Or at least that's what you wanted home to feel like.

You looked out the window at the small park in the middle of campus. The leaves on the trees were yellow, heralding the beginning of autumn. And everything would be beautiful if it weren't for the nasty weather. You don't even remember the last time you felt the sun's rays on your skin. Everything was as if under a dome of thick clouds.

“There are upsides to this weather,” professor's voice rang out behind you. You turned around just as he was placing two cups of coffee on the table.

"Like?" you asked, walking closer and sitting on the chair. Joel followed your lead and sat down with a soft groan. You smiled in amusement.

"Well..." he began, raising his eyebrows and leaned back, "actually, there aren't any," he finished after a moment's thought. “Unless you like rain and greyness,” he added with a smile.

You chuckled to yourself at his words. Sometimes you wished Joel was your main teacher. He was the only one who was just normal.

“What are you coming to me with?” he asked finally. You blinked a few times and cleared your throat, shifting in your chair. How should you tell him this...?

“I wanted to talk about the last essay we wrote,” you began calmly, seeing understanding immediately appear on Joel's face. "I wanted to know why you subtracted 5% from me."

"Of course you would like to know..." he muttered under his breath, amused, and shook his head. He looked at you with warmth in his eyes and was silent for a moment before sighing. “Honey, are you really going to fight for the stupid 5%?” he asked, hoping that maybe you'd change your mind and save you both from having to work on nothing.

“It's important 5%” you corrected him and he just looked at you in amusement. His smile was like a ray of sunshine on these cloudy days. Joel sighed, shaking his head and took off his glasses to wipe his tired face. He looked at you one more time before standing up and moving towards his desk. He pushed his glasses up his nose as he looked through the stack of papers, looking for your name. After a while he returned to his place with a few papers. He began to silently look through your work while you calmly drank your coffee. The coffee he made was always the best.

“Yeah okay…” he spoke after a few long minutes before he dropped your work on the table and slid it towards you. You put down your cup and took the papers. “The first half is good. Very good actually," he began to explain as you looked through a few pieces of paper, "But somewhere in the middle you completely changed your writing style. I didn't like it.” He glanced at the papers, wrinkling his nose. “The sentences were so…empty,” he explained, so you looked at him.

Was it really just about that? About the stupid writing style?

You swallowed the lump in your throat, feeling a pang in your heart.

“Is there anything I can do to improve?” you asked, sounding so delicate as if the slightest stimulus could break you. Joel was silent for a moment, staring at you. And he might start cursing you for how soft his heart was towards you.

He nodded slowly and drank his coffee. Every second of his silence seemed to drag on forever. The sound of the cup being placed down echoed in your head. You blinked a few times, waiting for him to speak but your leg began to tremble restlessly under the table.

“I'll do anything,” you said, unable to bear the silence. Joel smiled shaking his head.

"I know," he replied warmly. He cleared his throat, shifting in the chair. "Read the whole thing and mark the moment when you notice the change I mentioned to you," he instructed, to which you nodded and immediately got to work. In the meantime, he got up and continued what your visit had interrupted. Organizing papers wasn't his favorite thing to do, but he had to do it someday.

For several minutes you were focused on every word you wrote on these papers a week ago. The work was still satisfactory, but only now you were able to notice what the professor had mentioned. You winced as you read the sentences that looked like they were written by a robot. You understood why he deducted 5% from you.

“I can see it now,” you said, looking up. Joel stopped reading and placed the papers on the shelf before heading towards you. He stopped behind you and rested his hand on the back of your chair. His fingers touched your sweater, making you sit up straighter. You glanced at him as he leaned closer, looking at your work.

“Mhm,” he murmured, nodding. His attention was focused on the text until he finally straightened up. “Start from this point again. Write, I will come and check,” he ordered, looking down at you. “Then we'll talk about those important 5%,” he finished and you nodded automatically. You liked it when he was professional. Gravity and authority suited him. You followed him with your eyes and only when he returned to looking through his papers, you did get to work too.

You sat in silence for an hour, writing your papers. For an hour, the only thing that broke the silence was Joel's soft murmurs. He watched you from time to time as you dealt with your writing, and a small smile appeared on his lips when he saw how focused you were.

It was starting to get dark outside, so a few warm lamps gave a nice atmosphere. You were staring at the last sentence you wrote when suddenly a cup of hot coffee appeared next to you. You looked away from the text and looked at your steaming drink.

“Thank you,” you said quietly and glanced up at Joel who was looking into your notebook. He carefully followed the text you had written. You remained silent, waiting for him to speak. Finally he nodded gently in approval.

“You're doing great,” he praised, making eye contact with you. You smiled gently and he responded in the same way. He straightened up, tapping your chin teasingly and winking. "Write," he nodded and then left.

You swallowed hard, staring at his back as your heart beat so loudly that it drowned out everything around you. You blinked a few times in confusion and shifted nervously in your seat, returning your gaze to your notebook.

He had such a warm smile...

Another hour passed. Joel continued to stand by the bookcase arranging papers and books while you walked around reading your work to him.

“Repeat that last sentence,” he spoke, catching your eye for a moment. You stopped and looked at the text.

“Her gaze was empty and sunk into the depths of darkness,” you read and immediately looked at him, expecting disapproval. Joel was silent for a moment, wrinkling his nose and passing the papers between his fingers.

"Next."

“Like death slowly emerging, she stood up too. The black lady who heralded no tomorrow…”

“I like this one,” he said, cutting you off halfway through. You looked at him with a smile and continued reading.

Several minutes passed before you finished. You stood in the middle of the room with a grimace as you read the last few sentences in your head again.

“I don't think I like the ending,” you said hesitantly. Before long, you felt the professor's body behind you. His hand came to rest on your arm as he leaned over your shoulder. You immediately stopped breathing, feeling your skin begin to burn where he touched you. He focused on reading and you focused on the way his chest pressed against your back.

Damn…why did his touch send such pleasant warmth? Why was his closeness so pleasant that you were afraid to move lest it be interrupted?

“I don't see any problem,” he said, frowning. His voice so close to your ear sent shivers down your entire body. You swallowed, forcing yourself to say a few sentences.

Why did it take so much energy for you to speak?

“I'm reading this and it doesn't feel like it's over,” you explained and glanced sideways at him. “Do you see what I mean?” Joel caught your eye for a moment and then started reading the text again.

“I understand, but I still don't see the problem. You ended it in a simple way," he said, tracing the text with his finger.

“You know I don't like simplicity,” you muttered under your breath, earning him a sigh. The sound made your stomach tighten.

“Honey, listen…” he started and tightened his fingers on your arm. “I know you try like no other and always want everything to be perfect,” he said calmly, not wanting you to take it the wrong way. You looked at him and immediately locked eyes. “But sometimes simple is best option,” he finished, smiling softly. You stared into his eyes in silence and slowly swallowed when your gaze fell to his lips for a moment. You immediately looked away at your notes, feeling your breath shudder.

"I'm still not convinced"

“Of course you're not,” Joel sighed and snatched the notebook from you before walking away a few steps, starting to read again. You stood there, watching as he slowly started to spin in circles.

“I would give you 100% for this” he commented.

“I wouldn't give 100% for this,” you muttered under your breath, but not so quietly that he couldn't hear it. He looked at you, stopping.

“It's good that you're not me,” he replied with a gentle smile, which immediately made you feel a blush of shame on your cheeks. Joel went back to reading and you started mentally cursing yourself at your long tongue.

You started playing with your fingers behind your back and looked down at your shoes for a moment. Only the sound of pages turning caught your attention. Joel indifferently studied the remaining pages in your notebook, and then you felt a twinge of panic. You were about to open your mouth to speak when he interrupted you.

"I will give you a deadline for corrections," he continued, flipping through the pages until he finally stopped at one. "This is interesting," he commented under his breath, starting to read. You felt a cold sweat cover your body as you realized what could have caught his attention.

“Professor…” you spoke warningly. Joel silenced you with a wave of his hand. You fell silent, pursing lips tightly. You swallowed the lump in your throat, watching him closely. You watched for any signs of what he might be reading. And more importantly, how he reacted to what he read.

A soft smile appeared on his lips before he looked towards you. You looked like you had seen a ghost, what amuse him even more.

"You're even better at non-fiction than short stories," he commented, raising an eyebrow and closing notebook. You blinked a few times as if his words were completely lost on you. Only after a while you waking up from the stasis.

"Non-fiction?" you asked confused. You frowned, wondering if you had ever written something non-fiction, but nothing came to mind.

“I mean…” he started with a snort and slowly moved towards you. "I thought my eyes were just brown," he laughed softly. And that's when your heart stopped.

You felt every muscle in your body tense as you watched him in horror. He read... He read the fucking poetry about his eyes. You were screwed…

“Professor-” you started, wanting to explain yourself. Say anything that could get you out of this ridiculous situation.

“Joel,” he interrupted you.

You froze with your mouth parted and you could have sworn you heard your heart start beating again.

You stared at him when he stopped two steps in front of you. Joel seemed completely relaxed while you were having a nervous breakdown. Your silence only made his smile widen.

"Do not get me wrong. I really like it” He lifted the notebook, tapping the cover with his finger. You followed his every move carefully in silence. Really, you couldn't be in a worse position. “I'd love to read about other things, too,” he added with a smile and held out notebook towards you. You hesitantly raised your trembling hand and took your notebook, hugging it to your chest as if it would protect you from everything that was happening.

You blinked a few times, your eyes darting. As long as you don't look him in the eye. You nodded in agreement, feeling like nothing could come out of your mouth.

“Hey…” he started gently and grabbed your chin between his fingers, forcing you to look at him.

His hand… on your face… Oh god.

“Don't be ashamed of your poetry,” he said, gently stroking your skin with his thumb. You swallowed hard, feeling yourself start to shiver. You nodded almost invisibly. “Use your words,” he encouraged.

“Okay,” you whispered weakly, your breath shaky. One word cost you more effort than writing several pages of text.

"That's my good girl," he smiled wider, pleased.

His fingers slowly traced your cheek and he tucked a broken strand of hair behind your ear, following every move with eyes.

“So what can I read about in the future?” he asked as his fingers slowly moved down to your neck. You felt like you were burning alive. You were so damn hot that you started sweating. Your heart wasn’t slowing down and you could barely catch your breath.

Was this what dying was like?

“I-” you trailed off, swallowing the lump in your throat.

“Maybe hands?” he suggested, raising an eyebrow. His fingers slowly moved your hair behind your shoulder. “Hm? What do you think?" He asked, looking back into your eyes.

You felt like you were in some movie. You weren't even able to think straight when he touched you like that. You nodded in response.

“Words,” he reminded you.

“Yes, I'd like that.” Joel smiled warmly before removing his hand and sighing.

“Great,” he nodded and walked past you towards the door. You turned around, watching his every move. “I have time next week. You can come to my class and write your essay," he said on his way to the door.

You took a few steps after him but stopped when he did too. Joel turned towards you, his hand on the doorknob. He still had that warm smile on his face as he looked at you.

“Don't worry, I'm not going anywhere,” he said, raising an eyebrow when he noticed you had moved from your previous spot. His fingers slipped from the door knob and closed the door in one motion.

Then you realized what was about to happen.

You parted your lips, trying to catch your breath, but Joel was already in front of you again.

And this time, his lips were the reason you stopped breathing.

Soft and warm lips surrounded by rough stubble.

A mixture that made your knees weak in a second.

You sighed at the feeling of his lips pressed against yours, leading you in a slow dance. His hand on your cheek and the other wrapped around your waist. You sighed again as he pulled you closer. His tongue found yours and his fingers tangled in your hair. He kissed gently and tenderly. Exactly as you imagined. Exactly as you needed.

“Tell me,” he started, pulling away from your lips, breathing heavily. “Tell me that you want this.”

His breath mixed with yours. Your gaze was fixed on his lips and his on your eyes.

“Mhm,” you nodded because that was all you could do. But it was enough for him to crash his lips against yours again. You moaned at the intensity with which he started kissing you. Like he was thirsty.

Joel took the notebook from your hands and threw it on the table. His lips collided with yours over and over again. His arm wrapped tightly around your body. A scenario like one of your wet dreams.

“On your knees,” he whispered against your lips and loosened his grip. You took a moment to calm your breathing and licked his saliva from your swollen lips. You looked into his eyes, filled with warmth and desire. A look you would do anything for. Including falling to your knees in front of him.

You watched as his fingers slowly unbuckled his belt. And he just watched your sweet face. Your eyes reflected soft lights and your lips were slightly puffy. You looked like an angel.

He slowly unzipped his zipper and then your eyes met his. And you had to admit that this was the perspective from which you could look at him forever.

His hand disappeared into his boxers only to take out his semi-hard cock a moment later. You weren't able to take your eyes off his, causing a smirk to appear on his lips.

“Come on baby, you gotta help me out a little.”

His gentle words and warm smile immediately encouraged you to do whatever he asked you to do. You looked at his cock and slowly moved closer to place a kiss on the tip. That was enough for Joel to moan quietly with satisfaction. You licked the precum from his tip, immediately moisturizing all his length. Another moan escaped his lips as you took him into your mouth. His hand found its way into your hair as you slowly began to caress his cock with your mouth. With each movement of your tongue you felt him getting harder and harder. Until you finally started choking on him.

You pulled away for air and looked at him as he took off his glasses to wipe his face. He looked like he had run a marathon, but his eyes were full of you. He was breathing heavily as he decided to put his glasses on the table. And then you wrapped your mouth around his cock again.

“So pretty,” he moaned, stroking your head affectionately.

You felt his tip teasing your throat again so you pulled away, gasping for breath. His thumb was immediately on your lips, wiping away the saliva. You looked up at him like an innocent deer.

“Good, baby,” he praised you and tugged on your chin, forcing you to stand up. He immediately leaned down, placing a gentle kiss on your lips. You melted under his lips, making him smile.

His hands slid down your waist to your hips, pressing his fingers against your skin. A second later he was unbuttoning your jeans only for his hand to slip into your panties. You both moaned at the same time as his fingers traced your entrance. You grabbed onto his arms as your knees buckled beneath you. His arm wrapped around your waist as he felt your reaction.

“You're so wet,” he whispered against your lips. His eyes never left yours as he began to spread your juices over your clit. You shuddered, breathing heavily, and dug your nails harder into his skin. Then his fingers slowly slipped into your wet hole.

He watched in delight as your lips parted and your eyebrows furrowed in pleasure. The moan that left your throat as he slowly moved his fingers was like music to his ears. Every movement of his fingers echoed throughout your body. Like you were getting drunker with each thrust.

Joel couldn't help himself and started drinking your moans like the best wine. For the first time, it didn't take much to feel your orgasm building between your legs. He groaned into your mouth, feeling you slowly tighten around his finger.

"Already?" he asked with a smile.

“Please,” you moaned sweetly and he smiled wider. He stole a gentle kiss from you.

“Of course,” he whispered, pleased with how intensely you responded to his touch. He was flattered.

You closed your eyes as your body began to chase your orgasm. Then his fingers flexed slightly and you felt stars all over your body. You moaned as you came on his fingers. Joel didn't stop until he saw the beautiful post-orgasmic bliss on your face.

When you finally opened your eyes, you immediately saw him licking his fingers clean of your juices. And honestly, it was the sexiest sight of your life. You swallowed, wanting to moisten your dry throat.

“Turn around,” he ordered, continuing to lick his fingers. You followed his instructions without hesitation.

You felt his large, warm hands on your hips and your heart beat faster in your chest with excitement. His hand pushed your back gently, causing you to lie down on the table. His lips kissed your shoulder a few times before he straightened up, looking down at you.

And he would be lying if he said that this sight had never crossed his mind.

In a second your jeans were sliding down your thighs. You heard his soft laugh when he noticed your panties.

"You're really sweet," he commented, running his fingers over the white panties with colorful strawberries. A blush burned your face, but you smiled to yourself anyway.

A few seconds later, your panties also stopped at your thighs. Joel crouched down and spread your thighs so he could look at your wet pussy. A soft growl left his throat, making you tense as another drop of your previous orgasm left your entrance.

“I could eat you all night long,” he said, his voice laced with desire and your stomach twisted into knots. His words echoed against your pussy, making your knees tremble. “Another time, sweetheart,” with that he stood up and spread the wetness between your legs with his fingers. You moaned at the feeling and closed your eyes, snuggling into the table. He leaned over you and ran his nose over your ear. You shuddered. "Because there will be another time, hm?" he whispered, sending shivers down your entire body.

He slowly positioned his cock perfectly at your entrance and ran the tip along the length of your pussy to wet it. You started panting as you felt him ready to enter you.

“Yes, please,” you moaned. Joel laughed softly and then slowly entered you until the end. You both moaned as he stopped his hips against yours.

And then reality hit him. He straightened up, looking at the place where you were connected.

"Shit, baby, I didn't put a condom," he cursed due to his stupidity. You immediately glanced at him over your shoulder, seeing that he was surprised by his own carelessness.

“I'm taking the pills,” you replied quickly, not wanting him to interrupt. You felt him so damn good…

“Are you sure?” he asked, a bit worried about whether you wanted him to continue.

“I am,” you nodded. You looked at each other for a moment and then Joel leaned down to capture your lips in a slow kiss. His hips slowly came back to life, thrusting into you slowly and intensely. His cock stimulated every wall of your pussy perfectly. You moaned into his mouth, feeling him in every part of your body. As if his cock was made just for you.

His fingers dug hard into your hips as he slowly buried himself inside you. It quickly drove you crazy. You couldn't even kiss him back so you fell on the table, choking heavily.

Joel rested his forehead on your shoulder as he entered you again and again. Taking his time, enjoying you. He loved the way you tightened around his cock every time he entered you all the way.

His moans disappeared in your skin and his cock in your pussy, creating a deadly mixture that quickly brought you to the brink of breaking. You cried as you felt his slow movements drive you to sweet madness. You wanted to beg him to speed up, to do anything to speed up your fulfillment. But Joel knew very well what he was doing. Your needy moans only confirmed to him how good he was doing you.

“You're doing great, sweetie” he breathed against your ear as you cried his name once again. His movements were like slow torture. Perfect to bring you to the edge of pleasure and too slow to end it.

But then he changed the movement of his hips, pushing himself even deeper into you. You choked on air as he growled, holding you even tighter. You didn't need much now.

“Can you cum on my cock?” he asked, panting with thirst.

“Mhm,” you nodded, pressing your lips together to keep from squealing. Joel let out a satisfied groan and started placing kisses on your shoulder. You closed your eyes, moaning with desire.

“You're fucking perfect, baby,” he moaned, stroking and squeezing your hip and thigh. He was insanely hungry for you. Like an animal. Like a worshipper.

One last push of his hips and his name fell from your lips like a prayer as you came. Joel groaned as he felt you tighten on his cock. He stopped, enjoying the feeling, feeling that his orgasm was fast approaching. He then started thrusting into you again, at a slightly faster speed. This only prolonged your pleasure to the limit.

“Cum inside you?” he asked, his fingers tightening on your hip.

“Yes, Mr. Miller,” you moaned. Joel growled, grabbing your neck and pulling you to his chest. His lips crushed yours in a hungry kiss in a second. A few moves inside you and his moan disappeared into your mouth. His cock twitched inside you, filling you fully with his orgasm.

You both panted into each other's mouths as he gave you sweet gentle kisses. Eventually his breathing calmed down and he pulled away so he could look at you with a blissful smile. He ran his gentle fingers along your cheek and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

“I'll make time for you tomorrow. The sooner you write your essay, the sooner I can enjoy you, deal?" he suggested.

You smiled softly and nodded, “Deal.”

[readychilledwine]

A Page From Another's Book

Eris Week - Day 1 - Bonds and Bargains

Summary - After 2 full years without you acknowledging the bond, Eris is willing to do whatever it takes for just a moment of your time

Warnings - Smut, choking (kind of), mating bonds, forced proximity, slight manipulation, and possibly a few missed errors. If you see them, no, you didn't 👀

A/N - Happy @erisweekofficial! I have challenged myself this week to try to use both prompts in one fic. Why? Because I could not choose! They were so good this year.

🍂Eris Week Masterlist🍂Eris Masterlist🍂Master Masterlist🍂

Dividers by @tsunami-of-tears 💕💕

The look in your eyes was not what a male wanted to see from their mate. You looked at Eris like you hated him, a soft snarl always playing on lips too plush to have been real.

But Gods that look did things to him. Things that had his own smirk growing as you two stared at each other in silence, waiting for Rhysand to finish looked over the contact for trade Beron had forced his heir to come present. Rhysand was using his hand to hide a smirk.

The scent of the bond between Eris and y/n was potent. Honey and apples. Ginger and cinnamon. The High Lord understood now why so many of his family members complained about the way his and Feyre's scents mix. He could hardly tell who was who anymore but he couldn't stop breathing it in all the same.

“You can go sister, I believe I can hold my own against our dear Eris,” Rhysand dismissed you so easily. Your eyes met his in silent conversation before you stood, black dress swishing as you did and walked out of the room.

Eris felt himself relax then, body melting as he and Rhysand began to show each other vulnerability, “You told me she'd warm up to me by now.”

Rhys pinched his brows, “Y/n is a complex creature. Beautiful as the rising moon, complex as the stars.”

“And crafted from the very darkness between them,” Eris's fingers rolled, nails tapping the table in a pattern of annoyance. “What do I do?”

“Force her into a bargain,” Rhysand was half joking as he struck out a line on Beron's trade agreement. He paused, sharp mind and eyes hitting Eris. “That.. May actually work.”

Eris looked at Rhysand like he had grown two heads, “She would not make a bargain with me, she hates me.”

“She likes knowledge more than she hates you, trust me. And, Eris Vanserra, you live in a court she has never been able to go to.”

Eris fell into a brief moment of silence, “And you believe this could work?”

“It turned out well for me,” Rhysand picked at his jacket. “Make a bargain with her, force her to spend time with you.”

Rhysand slid the contract back over, a look of annoyance on his face as he did, "Your father,” the word spoken with such disdain, “needs to learn what fair terms actually means.”

“I do not believe my Father would know fair if it bit him in the ass,” that snake like smirk came forward. “Luckily, it will be me you deal with soon-”

“Is it not you I deal with already,” Rhys groaned. “Anyways, y/n. Bargain her a week in Autumn in exchange for intel.” He said it so casually, having accepted what the Fates and Cauldron decided would be with you the second the bond snapped during the war with Hybern.

And what a dramatic way for it to have snapped. A fight between Autumn and Night's emissaries leading to you pinning the heir to the ground, dagger at his throat.

It was one thing you and Azriel had in common:

Going for the jugular whenever you two deemed it fit.

Rhys waved a hand dismissing Eris, “I'm sure she is in the hall, waiting to guide you to your room.”

And you were, leathers clinging to every curve, one wing stretched out while you pulled your arm across your body, “Sore, assassin?”

Defiant eyes met his, narrowing slightly as he stared, “Only by the sight of you, heirling.” You began to walk away from him, forcing Eris to follow you to his room in Hewn City. Footsteps fell in time, breathing in sync as the bond between you two pulled and flickered.

It wasn't tense, but the quiet that lingered was thick. There were mountains of emotions between you two. Anger that lingered from years of what he claims was all an act and lies.

“You look beautiful today,” you were the only being he ever spoke this gently to. “Your hair has gotten longer.”

“Are we making casual observations?”

Eris smirked at the way your held a bite yet your eyes were soft. You were truly the most beautiful creature he had ever gotten to lay eyes on. In a dress, armor, casual clothing, leathers. Your confidence was unmatched. You owned every room you walked into. He admired that about you.

Eris opened the door to his room, hand going just above the small of your back to usher you in, “I have an offer for you.”

You leaned against the wall, a shadow coming to check on you. It indicated he was on a time crunch, that your brother would be coming soon. “I am listening.”

“Come with me to Autumn. A week of your time in one of my private residences in exchange for intel on my father.”

Your mind began to race at the possibilities. Bringing home info to Rhysand that the Night Court could use was like dangling a sparkling object infront of a fish. He knew you would bite. “What is in it for you?”

“You. Just one week where I get to see my mate in my court, in our fashion, enjoying our food. Such a small thing to give me in exchange for the knowledge I will give you, and your ability to stay safely in a court you've never enjoyed.”

It was tempting, so tempting the shadow on your shoulder panicked and ran to Azriel. “What's the catch?” You moved to sit on the chair, long legs crossing at the ankles as the two of you continued staring each other down.

“No catch, my lady.” He moved to you, a hand touching the loose hair from your braid. It was a bold and dangerous choice, touching you so freely. “Just a week in exchange for information. That's all I wager.”

His hand raised to you, the freckled skin calloused from training and earning his place as a general, but so soft. Hands spoke volumes to you, and his were so similar to Rhysand's. You raised your hand slowly and took his, feeling the warmth from his skin heating yours.

The bargain mark for you was nothing, a small rune on the inside of your left ring finger, but he flinched slightly before moving to the mirror across the room and pulling up his shirt. He rolled his eyes at the small matching rune above his heart. “What does it say?”

“Agape,” you responded quietly. “We need to leave if you plan on getting out of this alive. Azriel is coming.”

He grabbed your without hesitation, without even putting his shirt back on. Fire and smoke surrounded you before the silence of a cabin. Soft whimpers immediately started before howling. Loud howling. 12 hounds all began to point their noses to the skies they couldn't see. It was a celebration of his arrival home before the smallest then began to pawn at the door.

Eris just smiled as he made his way over, “Be back before dinner,” he told them, patting each one on the head as they can out into the warded clearing. Your feet carried you behind them, eyes wide in wonder as you took in the colors of the trees.

Warmth.

A fireplace with a good book and spiced cider.

Chilled air and pumpkins.

You had always longed to see Autumn, but Beron's prejudice towards Illyrians always got in the way. “Eris..” You were speechless as you admired the woods, the crunchy leaves on the ground. “Its-”

“Home,” he finished as he leaned on the railing watching his hounds. “We're right on the border of Autumn and Winter. There are times where the run rises and sets on the creek and lake near by that makes the snow of Winter appear like it is on fire.” His smile was so soft, eyes relaxed, muscles even slowly loosing tension. “This is my favorite cabin I have. The village nearby is quiet, open minded, hates my father.”

“That seems to be a reoccurring theme,” you jumped in.

Eris smirked but didn't say anything. “Can I offer you more comfortable clothing? A drink?”

Night one with him was filled with you two reading silently, one of his hounds being the first to inch his way into your lap and cuddle. Rhysand had not checked in, Azriel had not searched for you. Not even a mocking letter from Nesta. It was peace, bliss that allowed your guard to fall down.

He allowed you to sleep alone in a spare bed, not even asking as you used your ability to shift to get rid of your wings for the night and stole his sweater to sleep in.

The smell of bacon woke you from your lay in. A rare lazy morning that had you stretching as you walked on in just his sweater.

It felt so domestic, natural to both of them. He wordlessly handed her coffee and sugar, sipping his own. He was shirtless, lean form on display and making your brain spiral to the what ifs. His sweatpants hung low on his hips as he continued cooked breakfast, knowing you could not do it.

“How far do you powers as a wild form go?” You glanced at him, not ready to speak without at least getting one sip of coffee in. His hands shot up in defense, a graceful step back as he did. “I am asking because I wanted to leave you with some marks so you could do shopping. Observe the village here.”

You only hummed, reaching for a finished piece of the crispy bacon and bending down to give it to the sweet hound that had attached himself to you. “What's his name?”

Eris sneered as you gave his well trained pet a piece of bacon, dark brown eyes meeting his like it was a victory, “That is Whiskey.” The Hound seemed to skip away as you stood up, “And you will not spoil him.”

“Says the male who had 3 in his bed last night and the rest all in fluffy dog beds that a nicer than what some poor lower fae have.”

“They are orthopedic. Smoke hounds require comfort for their limbs,” his tone was definitely defensive. Almost parental. “They are faithful companions. They deserve comfort.”

You were thankful for your ability to hide laughter, but your eyes began to betray you. This male was not the one you knew, the one who you believed left your dear friend for dead. “To answer the earlier question, it's limitless, like Tamlin's ability, only less effort and my scent is hidden.”

“So you can spend my coin today,” he tossed the bag casually on the counter. He moved the pan from the heat before reaching around you, “You are even beautiful in the morning.” He'd carry the torch for you. He'd carry it even if you rejected the bond, as pathetic as that was.

Day two with him was filled with heated glances that grew the more he showed you who he was. Touches that lingered as he took you from shop to shop, purchasing candies, clothing, books.

He was a handsome male. You'd be a fool to lie if you said otherwise.

The third evening is when things became more. The bond was humming, desperate for anything to happen between you two. Music was playing softly as you two read again. You books on the history of Autumn, Eris a novel he refused to let you see the cover of. His fingers swayed his bookmark in a small dance, the movement as smooth as you had witnessed as he and Nesta glided across the floors of Hewn City.

“You're staring,” He said without looking to you. “Did your high lord never teach you it's impolite to stare?”

“Maybe if your bookmark wasn't waving all over the place while you read your smut,” you muttered back at him. Amber eyes met yours, brows raised as he mouth tried to formulate a response.

“It's not smut. It's a love story!”

You snatched the book from him, the brief contact of your body against his making the bond pound, “Her body sang for him. Each roll of his hips setting fire to her veins,” Your voice reading those lines had the scent in the air shifting. He could no longer mask his need for you as he took a deep breath. “His length filled her, reaching places inside of her she'd never find without him, pulling sob after sob from swollen lips as she held to him.”

“Enough.” He grabbed the novel back and drank his whiskey like a shot as he stared at you now.

No more words passed as you tell held eye contact.

No pointed remarks. No jokes.

The music seemed to fade as the bond began ringing in your ears.

2 years. 2 years if knowing who your mate was. 2 years without even so much as a kiss.

It was finally too much. You had never enjoyed slow burn romances. Why turn this into one when the longing lingered all the same.

Perhaps he closed the gap. Or maybe you did, but it happened. His lips on yours in a passionate kiss, dominating you quickly by tugging your hair back to angle your head.

There was no looming war. No assassinations waiting to happen. No lingering past wounds. Not as he lifted you, laying you down infront of the fire place.

Not as he pulled your shirt off, then his own.

Not as he kissed down your body, nipping and marking his favorite places to remind him to spend more time there later. Neither of you could wait. Neither of you wanted to.

Your bodies were born ready and aching for each other. Like two halves forced apart and just waiting to collide.

Even in the heat of this moment, he looked at you, eyes searching for a sign of doubt, for anything that didn't ring a resounding yes. All he found was lust. Heavy deep want weighing on both of your souls.

He reminded you that you two were nothing more than stardust. Stardust given life and form. Needs and wants. A chance.

You understood the book now as he filled you, stretching you after time spent without a partner. You understood that now, too. Understood why Lucien was all too happy to wait as well.

It had never felt like this. Sex had never felt like coming home. Like your soul was nurtured as he wrapped your legs around his hips. As he moved, he used the bond to instantly get his feedback. He wanted you to sing for him, to cry his name, and when he found that soft spot inside of you, he knew he could have it.

His movements focused on that spot as you grabbed his forearms, back arching off the ground for him, mouth falling into a silent scream.

“Look at me, y/n,” he panted. “Look at me when I make you see the heavens.”

His thumb moved to your clit, circling and rolling it in time with his hips, watching as your breasts bounced.

There wasn't an inch of you Eris wasn't instantly falling in love with. You were exquisite. Not too thin, curves in all the right places. Muscles strong and flexible.

“You are better than I dreamed,” he moaned. “A muse hidden to all but me.”

You whispered his name, eyes squeezing shut as the coil began to build and tighten. He would be the death of you. You of him if he wished, “Eris.”

“Sing for me, my fire.”

The coil built more and more, “Eris!”

He kept pushing and kept hitting that spot. He wouldn't last, not with the way you two fit like a puzzle. With the way your warmth hugged him. But you were also there, dangling from the edge by a string Eris held in his hands.

“Eris, please?”

“What do you need,” he whispered. “I want to hear it. Beg for me it.”

Your hands trembled as you moved his hand that wasn't occupied with your sensitive clit to your throat, eyes looking at him in silent understanding.

Life had not been gentle or kind to you, nor to him, love would not be either.

He squeezed softly, only enough to make you feel the euphoria. His pace picked up, driving hard and faster into you.

It was a chain reaction as you hit your high, screaming his name like you had in all of his dreams. He followed you over, groaning loudly before he praised you and worked you through your heightened state. Screams fell to soft whimpers, whimpers to pants.

Eris waited until the shaking set in, until he knew you were done to pull out before standing to grab a cloth to clean you. Soft kisses were shared as he took care of you before wrapping you both in a blanket.

You two said nothing as you processed what happened.

You didn't even mention the mark on his left hip. One that you knew. That matched Mor’s only hidden mark.

You just processed. Processed that you knew deep down that you loved him. Processed that in few days the bargain mark you shared would disappear from you both, fulfilled and nothing more than a smear on your histories.

In a few days, you'd be going back to the Night Court.

And you couldn't help but you find yourself considering if that was truly home.

How could it be when it wasn't where your mate was?

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[str4ngr]

congrats on 800 !!

any chance u can do number 6 for both fluff and suggestive w the character megumi fushiguro ??

⭐️

warmth.

m. fushiguro. | my drug, my addiction.

cw: none, fluff, established relationship, canon divergent bc f u gege, sorcerer! megumi, fem! reader. wc: 598. notes: i love love love love love this prompt w him. not proofread [when is it ever]

When it came to his wife and her rulings, missing dinner was absolutely unacceptable.

"You need to eat!"

You scold, hand on your hip and an accusatory finger pointed towards him. Quite the welcome home, Megumi thought. He kicked off his shoes, shook his head, and took his jacket off, not given the chance to speak before you continued. He couldn't help the wya his lips twitched at the corners, sucking in his bottom lip as your sweet face twisted in honest worry,

"I mean it, Megumi!"

He blanked, brows furrowing as he stared at you. Staring back, both hands held your hips, the cute apron you begged him to buy you, which you didn't need to plead for but he decided to have some entertainment, stained with your just finished recipe. He wanted to, but he decided to be distracted by your beauty later. For now, what did you just say?

"...Megumi?"

"Yes, Megumi!"

Who the hell was that? No honey, no sweetie... no gumi ?? nothing.

He huffed, clearly disgruntled by the lack of overzealous, fervent pet names. Megumi's sharp glare met yours while shuffling his tired feet to stand in front of you, head cocked to the side and a playful smirk gracing his lips. Your stared at his eyes, deep blue and endless as they swirled with warmth unfamiliar to such a cool colour, handsome lashes fluttering as he blinked away the sunlight that invaded through the curtains,

"Try again."

"Try eating three meals a day."

A silence fell between the both of you, crooked lips twisting into goof smiles as Megumi was the first to fold, snickering quietly as he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you into his chest. Hand gripping his shoulder, you wheeze silently before bursting out into laughter. His fingers dug into your soft waist, paying no mind to the way the colours of food transferred from your apron to his shirt.

He didn't mind the way the your fingertips dug into his sore shoulders. Or the way you stumbled and pulled him with you in uncontrollable giggles. Or how your lips tasted like a peek of dinner that was still unknown.

It was a helpless, inevitable, inescapable warmth. One that swallowed him whole as he rushed to shower and get dressed, skipping down the stair so he could idle in the kitchen as you finished cooking. So he could stick his finger in the pot, your spoon coming down on the back of his palm,

"Gumi!"

"What? You're the one who tells me to eat!"

"Yeah, off a plate!"

Laughter rung throughout the kitchen, more angelic and harmonic than the wedding bells that rang two years ago. Megumi could never pull his eyes away from you, brows raised as his whole expression softens, melts, into you, your presence, your existence. But tonight wasn't a special night. It was another simple day in the middle of autumn where the leaves fell on the window sill, the setting sun tinted as it glittered across the kitchen. He watched as warm oranges and red graced your perfect features, held in the palm of his hand.

You raised a playful brow at him, reaching to hold his face too as you hummed quietly to the music that played off your phone. Smiling, Megumi trailed his hand down your arm, to your waist, to him, enveloping you in a hug.

Today wasn't special. Yesterday wasn't either. And tomorrow probably wouldn't be. But, Megumi believed, that no matter how insignificant a day may seem, it was priceless for every moment he had with you.

notes: f u gege x2. uhm, i was gonna say smth but i forgor.

[theostrophywife]

the crush theory.

pairing: lorenzo berkshire x reader.

song inspiration: london boy by taylor swift.

author’s note: this is just a cute indulgent coffee shop! au with my sweetheart enzo. majorly inspired by all the boyfriend vibes louis has been serving with miss olivia lately. let’s not even talk about the ass grab with his big hands and rings…🫣

Enzo Berkshire never quite managed to master the language of love. 

Despite being a polyglot and a linguistics major, romance remained a complete mystery to him. It wasn't like he could craft a conjugation chart to help him not make a fool of himself in front of the girl of his dreams. When it came to matters of the heart, Enzo often found himself at a loss for words. Perhaps that was the reason why he never mustered up the courage to speak to you. 

Until that one fateful fall morning. 

The kiss of autumn arrived on campus a few weeks into the semester, freeing the city from the grips of the summer heat and bringing with it the changing of leaves and the distinct scent of cinnamon and apples. Enzo shoved his hands into the pockets of his burnt orange corduroy trousers and savored the sound of the jewel toned leaves crunching underneath his loafers. As the wind picked up, he wrapped his chunky knit cardigan tighter around himself to shield against the chilly breeze. 

The ivy covered brick buildings and cobblestone streets faded into the background as he walked past the quad. Deja Brew, the little hole in the wall cafe that Enzo frequented, greeted him like an old friend. The coffee shop was located on the outskirts of campus and was only a short walk from his dorm, which made it the ideal place to conduct his tutoring sessions. Not only was it convenient, but the cozy and quiet ambience provided the perfect setting for Enzo to teach his fellow struggling students. 

As time went on, the choice of location became less about convenience and more about catching a glimpse of you—the surly barista that worked the morning shift. For the past few months, Enzo developed a rather embarrassing crush on you. There was something about your scowl and no bullshit attitude that drew him to you like a moth to a flame. Though in his case, Enzo was perfectly content to hover a safe distance from the proverbial light of your fancy French cigarette lest he get burned. 

Upon first glance, anyone would have been intimidated by you. With your faded band tees, ripped jeans, and scuffed leather boots, Enzo was well aware that a girl like you would never be interested in a bloke who's wardrobe consisted of sweaters with elbow patches, floral print button downs, and neatly pressed pleated trousers. Needless to say, you were way too cool for him. 

Enzo was resigned to merely admiring you from afar, but fate seemed to have other ideas. The bell above the door tinkled softly as he made his way into Deja Brew only to stop dead in his tracks when he spotted you at the register. Usually, you were behind the bar manning the espresso machine during the early morning rush, but not today.

Today, you were front and center. 

Part of him considered walking out the door, but given the fact that the shop was nearly empty, a hasty exit would definitely not go unnoticed. Enzo had no choice but to suck it up and approach the register with resignation. The minute he opened his mouth, he was sure he’d muck things up. 

Enzo swallowed thickly and pushed his round framed glasses further up the bridge of his nose; a nervous habit he developed when he was younger. The erratic beat of his heart echoed in Enzo’s ears as his gaze flickered up to your face, expecting to be greeted with a frown. To his surprise, your lips curved into a small smile once you spotted him. 

“Lemon balm tea with two pumps of peach syrup and a dollop of honey, right?” 

Enzo blinked at the melodious sound of your voice, nearly missing the fact that you’d recited his exact order, which shouldn’t have been surprising given the fact that you’ve been making it for him for months. Still, he couldn’t help but feel a little warm inside as you looked at him expectantly. He stared in stunned silence for a moment. 

You furrowed your brow in doubt. “Did I get that wrong?” 

“No, no, it’s right. It’s great. It’s perfect—“ Enzo cleared his throat, mentally kicking himself for rambling. “I’m just surprised that you remembered it.” 

“Of course I remember it, you’re one of my regulars. I’d be a pretty shit barista if I forgot your order.” You cocked your head, tapping your lips thoughtfully. “Speaking of which, do you want your croissant warmed up, Lorenzo?” 

“You know my name?” 

Enzo hadn’t meant to sound so starstruck, but hearing his name come out of your mouth made his heart skip a beat.

“And your social security number too,” you deadpanned. Enzo’s eyes widened, which made you chuckle. “I’m just having a laugh. I promise I won’t commit identity theft against you. Unless you piss me off.” 

You accompanied the statement with a cheeky wink, which only made Enzo even more nervous. 

"Don't look so nervous, peach. I swear I don't bite."

“Right. Sure. Of course,” he stammered. “The tea and the croissant sounds good, Y/N.” The realization that you’ve never told him your name came a beat too late. “It’s on your chest. The name tag, I mean. I wasn’t just staring at your chest. Though I’m sure it’s very nice. Bloody hell, I’ll stop talking now.” 

Enzo cringed at himself, but eased when you laughed. “You’re a strange bloke, Lorenzo.” You said as you began making his drink. “But I’ve got to admit, it’s oddly charming.” 

He chuckled, trying to hide the flush coloring his cheeks. “That seems to be my sweet spot.” 

"As sweet as peaches," you retorted as you added two pumps of peach syrup into his tea. "You'll have to excuse the fruit references. Before I knew your name, I referred to you solely as the peach guy."

"Is that good or bad?"

Enzo hiked his backpack over his shoulder and meandered down the end of the counter where you were topping off his tea with a dollop of honey. You swirled it into a heart pattern before sliding the warm cup into a sleeve. 

"Well, I've never met anyone who's preferred drink could constitute as a dessert, so it's certainly something. You're an enigma, Lorenzo," you said thoughtfully. "Though I think I like peach better. You don't really strike me as a Lorenzo."

“You can call me Enzo. I prefer it over my full name. It sounds so stuffy.” 

“We certainly can’t have that,” you said with a smirk. “Enzo. I like it. It’s rather becoming. Not stuffy at all.” He chuckled as you handed him a brown bag. "I might still call you peach from time to time. Force of habit. You understand, right?"

"Of course," Enzo replied. "El loro viejo no aprende a hablar."

"You kiss your mum with that mouth, peach?"

Enzo flushed. "It's Spanish for the old parrot does not learn to talk. Basically their equivalent of you can't teach an old dog new tricks." He shifted his weight onto his other foot. "What I'm trying to say is, I don't mind if you call me peach or Enzo or whatever else you'd like."

"You're giving me way too much freedom, Enzo. I intend on taking full advantage." You winked as you slid his drink over to him. “Enjoy your croissant. I put a little something extra in there for you.” 

Enzo peered into the bag and saw an extra pastry wrapped in black cellophane next to his croissant. The brownie didn’t look like any of the ones behind the counter, which meant that it was probably homemade. Strange, he wouldn’t have pegged you for a baker. 

“Oh, you really don’t have to—” 

“Nonsense,” you countered, waving off his protests. “Really, you’d be doing me a favor. It’s an experimental recipe of mine, which makes you my guinea pig. As payment, I expect a full report on the brownie tomorrow morning. Don’t hold back either, peach. I want a brutally honest review.”

“I’m sure it’ll be great,” Enzo said in reassurance. “In any case, your guinea pig will take ample notes.” 

“That would be much appreciated,” you said with a serious nod. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Enzo-not-Lorenzo.”

Enzo couldn’t help but grin. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Y/N.” 

Enzo rubbed his temples, willing the headache forming behind his eyes to vanish. Unfortunately for him, his last tutoring session with Flint seemed to have left a permanent mark. While Enzo usually enjoyed teaching French, Marcus was proving to be a rather difficult case. Not only was Flint unwilling to do the work, the knobhead also spent the entire session leering at you instead of studying the conjugation chart that Enzo poured his blood, sweat, and tears on. 

“Merlin, I have no idea how you deal with rich, smarmy arseholes all day.” 

Enzo looked up to find you seated across the table, sliding a sandwich, a fruit cup, and a bag of crisps towards him without missing a beat. He hadn’t even realized it was already an hour past lunch until his stomach grumbled at the sight of food.

“One could argue that I’m also a rich, smarmy arsehole,” Enzo countered, picking up a grape and popping it into his mouth with a slight smile. “Yet you seem to have no problems dealing with me.” 

“Yes, well, everyone knows I’m just using you for your body. Specifically, your taste buds.” Enzo shook his head in amusement before taking a bite out of the sandwich. Peanut butter and jelly, his favorite. “Besides, how else am I supposed to learn new insults in different languages if I hadn’t met you? Speaking of which, I believe I’m completely justified in saying that Flint is a total gehirnverweigerer.”

“Marcus isn’t so bad. He just needs a bit of a push,” Enzo replied rather unconvincingly. 

“If by a push you mean my boot against his arse, then I wholeheartedly agree.” 

“The French have this saying, petit à petit, l’oiseau fait son nid. In English, it roughly translates to: little by little, the bird builds its nest.” 

“Except Flint isn’t a bird, he’s a twat,” you deadpanned. “The bloke was too busy staring at my arse to even pick up a lick of French. To think, you even made this cute little chart and everything. You have the patience of a saint, Enz.” 

“One of us has to,” Enzo replied as he tore open the bag of wotsits. “Given your proclivity to violence.” 

“Don’t make me take your crisps away, Lorenzo.” 

Shielding his wotsits from your vengeful wrath, Enzo flashed you a saccharine smile. For good measure, he even batted his pretty honey eyes at you. The audacity. “Have I ever told you that you’re my favorite person in the whole entire world?” 

You rolled your eyes fondly. “Flattery will get you everywhere, Berkshire. Now finish your lunch or else I’ll be very cross with you.” 

Enzo smiled to himself, wondering at the fact you were complete strangers until a few weeks ago. Ever since you gifted him with the best brownie he’s ever tasted in his entire life, he became your designated taste tester. Every morning, Enzo would start his day off with his usual lemon tea and whatever new pastry recipe you had chosen to tackle that week. Between the scones and muffins, Enzo learned that you intended on opening your own bakery after uni. Hence, his very important role of reviewing your recipes. 

Granted, Enzo didn’t know how much of a help he actually was given the fact that he thought everything you made was amazing. Still, the novelty of finding a fresh pastry in his bag with a handwritten note from you never failed to brighten his morning. Especially since you signed each one with a crimson kiss print that made him blush every time he laid his eyes upon it. It was safe to say his crush had only gotten worse the more he got to know you. 

As you settled behind the counter to help with the afternoon rush, Enzo attempted to get some work done before classes started for the day. With finals fast approaching, he was caught up on making sure he had everything in order. It wasn’t until Enzo heard a familiar voice when he finally tore his gaze away from his laptop screen. 

Enzo froze as he watched one of his best mates saunter up to the counter. Even from his seat by the window, he could tell that Mattheo was flirting with you. In hindsight, his friend seemed exactly like the type of guy you would go for. The broody bad boy who probably listened to all the obscure bands that you often talked to him about. As Mattheo directed his smoldering gaze at you, Enzo thought he might be violently ill. 

Squinting across the coffee shop, Enzo angrily shoved his hands into the pockets of his trousers in an attempt to keep himself from strangling his curly headed friend. 

In a tone that was at least an octave deeper than his regular voice, Mattheo drawled a question at you. “What’s good here?” 

You stared at him pointedly before waving a hand towards the menu. “There’s coffee, there’s pastries. It’s really not rocket science.”

The deadpan delivery combined with the utterly unenthused expression on your face nearly made Enzo snort out loud. It might’ve been an arsehole move to rejoice at Mattheo’s fumble, but he found it immensely satisfying that you seemed to be immune to the infamous Riddle charm. 

“A bit feisty today aren’t we, love? I just wanted to see what the pretty lady behind the counter recommends.” 

Enzo watched in amusement as you slipped on your signature scowl, the one that made him fall for you in the first place. “The pretty lady recommends that you stop holding up the line so she can get to the other customers who actually know what they want.” 

Hiding his smirk, Enzo feigned surprise as a dejected Mattheo plopped down across from him. “Merlin, that was brutal. Is the barista always this mean? I complimented her pins and she stared at me like I’d grown an extra head.” 

“Y/N isn’t really a people person,” Enzo supplied. 

“No shit, Berkshire.” Mattheo tapped his fingers on the counter. “Let’s just get to class before I embarrass myself any further.”

“That’s probably for the best,” replied Enzo. 

Ignoring Mattheo’s glare, Enzo packed up his laptop and put his tray away. He followed his mate through the throng of people, which had thinned out once more. They were a few steps away from the door when you called out his name. With a raised brow, you held out a pink box. Enzo smiled sheepishly in return. He couldn’t believe he’d almost forgotten the dessert of the day. 

“One lemon berry scone. Less tart, per your critique last week.” He took the box from your hands, blushing furiously when your fingers brushed against his. “Have a good class, peach.” 

“Thanks, Y/N. I’ll have your full report ready tomorrow.” 

“You better.” Enzo nearly dropped the box when you winked at him. “Later, Berkshire.” 

Smiling to himself, Enzo came face to face with a gaping Mattheo. “For Salazar’s sake, it’s like I don’t even exist.” He muttered before breaking out into a grin. “No wonder my moves had no effect. Mate, she obviously fancies you.” 

Enzo’s cheeks immediately heated as he pushed out into the quad. “What? No. Y/N and I are just really good friends.” 

“Now I understand why you come here so often,” Mattheo remarked. “If the mean hot barista plied me with baked goods and called me peach, I’d be coming here every day.” 

“It's an inside joke about my drink order..." Enzo tried to explain. "The point is, Y/N isn’t mean. She’s actually really nice.” 

“Yeah, because she likes you.” 

“No, she doesn’t.”

“Does too.” Mattheo countered. “Why else would she bake you a scone?” 

“She wants to own a bakery someday. Obviously, that means she needs someone to test her recipes out on,” Enzo explained. “It’s how we became friends.” 

“Right,” Mattheo said with a shit eating grin. “Friends.” 

Enzo rolled his eyes. “Can we just please get to class?” 

“Whatever you say, peach.” 

“I have a theory,” Mattheo announced. 

Enzo sighed, rubbing his eyes. “Not this again, mate.” 

The rest of their friends perked up, abandoning their laptop screens and textbooks in favor of the newest piece of gossip. The little corner of the library that their group had claimed was fairly quiet, which was supposed to be optimal for revising, but Mattheo couldn’t seem to let his conspiracy theory go. He'd been badgering Enzo about it for a week.

“Berkshire here refuses to believe me, but I have it on good authority that Y/N has a crush on him. 

“Y/N,” Theo started, “You mean his mean barista friend? She’s proper fit.” 

“Don’t call her fit,” Enzo replied rather defensively. 

“A little touchy there, Berkshire.” Regulus said with a chuckle. “Is that jealousy I sense?” 

“For the millionth time, Y/N and I are just friends.” 

“Is that the same friend that makes all those tasty pastries for you?” Draco asked with a raised brow. “I’ve seen the cute little notes she leaves for you posted all around your dorm. With the adorable kiss prints and hearts. Seems to me like Mattheo’s right. Y/N’s sweet on you, cousin.” 

“Do me a favour and stop being a snooping twat, cousin.” Enzo retorted with a frown. “Y/N’s just being nice. It’s what friends do.”

“None of my mates have ever gone out of their way to bake me a bloody thing,” Blaise declared in feigned offense as he wrapped an arm around Pansy. 

“Yes, well, none of your mates even know where the oven is located, let alone how to operate it,” replied his girlfriend. Pansy smiled at Enzo. “Besides, I think their friendship is sweet.” 

“Thanks, Pans.” 

“So you don’t fancy Y/N?” Theo asked. Enzo opened his mouth then closed it. He was well aware that his friend was baiting him, but he refused to fall into Theo’s trap. 

“Like I said, we’re friends.” 

“In that case, you wouldn’t mind if I asked for her number, right?” 

As a matter of fact, Enzo did fucking mind. He minded very much. Too much, probably. But he couldn’t very well say that out loud. Instead, he masked his scowl and returned his attention to revising. 

“Knock yourself out, mate.” 

Theo smirked. “Alright then, let’s go.” 

“Go where?” Enzo asked disinterestedly, flipping through his study sheet for Latin. 

“To Deja Brew,” Theo replied smugly. “We all need a study break, anyways.” 

“You want to go there? Right now?” With each question, Enzo’s death grip tightened on his notes. “To ask for Y/N’s number?” 

“That shouldn’t be a problem, right? In fact, maybe you could introduce us.” 

Enzo would rather walk on hot coals. “I think I'll pass. I've already seen her turn Mattheo down and that was brutal enough as it is. I don’t need an encore.”

“Riddle’s probably not her type.” 

Mattheo frowned, crossing his arms. “I’m everyone’s type.” 

Theo chuckled. “Apparently not hers. Perhaps she’d prefer a handsome Italian, no?” 

Mattheo rolled his eyes. “In your dreams, Nott.” 

“Now I’m intrigued,” exclaimed Blaise. “I’d never miss an opportunity to witness Theodore get humbled. Are you sure you’re ready for a woman like Y/N, Nott?” 

“Please,” Theo scoffed. “I was born ready.” 

Against his will, Enzo found himself at Deja Brew ten minutes later. In his usual corner by the window, he brooded like a petulant child. This was a horrible, terrible, and idiotic idea. All he wanted to do was revise and now his study session had been hijacked just so he could watch Theo flirt with the girl he fancied. 

“You know, you can put a stop to this any time you’d like,” Mattheo said in a sing-songy voice. “Just admit that my theory is right. Y/N has a crush on you and I’m willing to bet that the feeling is mutual. Isn’t it, Berkshire?” 

Enzo crossed his arms, rolling his eyes. Instead of giving into Mattheo’s childish pursuits, he opened his laptop and pretended to be immersed with Russian translations. 

“Have it your way, Enzo.” Regulus declared, nodding towards the register. “Nott’s about to give us a show.” 

As irritated as he was with his friends, Enzo couldn’t tear his gaze away. Theo marched up to the counter with swagger and confidence, slipping on his signature smirk. You looked up from your phone screen, giving the tall and lanky boy a sweeping gaze. The unenthused expression on your face screamed that you weren’t at all impressed.

“Y/N, is it?” Theo drawled, squinting at the nametag pinned to your apron. “A pretty name for a pretty lady.” 

“Thanks,” you deadpanned. “My parents gave it to me. Now what can I get started for you?” 

“Aren’t you going to ask me for my name?” 

“I know who you are,” you replied dismissively. “One of Enzo’s friends, right? I heard about your little stunt in the fountain. You know, December’s not really a smart time to go skinny dipping.” Theo flushed as your eyes trailed down to his crotch. “Certain parts shrivel in the cold, Nott.” 

“I assure you, my parts were perfectly intact.” 

“That’s not what Katie Bell said,” you countered, tapping your lips thoughtfully. “I believe I heard something about shrinkage.” Theo opened and closed his mouth like a fish out of water. “I’ll tell you what, Theodore. Why don’t I fix you up a cappuccino? It’ll help keep you and your parts warm and cozy.” 

Enzo bit his lip to keep himself from bursting into laughter. The rest of his friends snickered as they watched a dejected Theo return to the table. 

Regulus snorted as he sat back down in defeat. “Merlin, that was hard to watch. Absolutely brutal, really.” 

Theo glared at Regulus in response. “I’d like to see you do better, Black.” 

Regulus winked. “Watch and learn, boys.” 

The older boy had about as much luck as Theo. Though the attempts had put him in a foul mood at first, Enzo was absolutely elated as he watched you turn down his friends. Regulus received an eye roll while Draco reeled from the head to toe once-over that humbled the absolute hell out of him. 

“It’s useless,” his cousin mumbled. “She hates everyone.” 

“Or maybe Y/N just doesn’t appreciate random blokes chatting her up while she’s trying to do her job,” Pansy said with an eye roll. 

“Oh bloody hell, here she comes.” Regulus muttered under his breath. “I don’t think my ego can take another hit.” 

The boys cowered as you came closer, but you didn’t pay them any mind. Instead, you set a fresh mug of tea and a lemon scone down in front of Enzo. 

“Last one, I promise. It’s finally perfect this time.” 

“You said that the last three times,” Enzo said with a chuckle. “They were all brilliant, by the way. Not that you listen to my well crafted reviews.” 

“You say that about everything I make, Enz. Honestly, a girl bakes you a couple of treats and suddenly I’m the best thing since sliced bread.” 

“I’m just being honest,” he replied with a shrug. “You couldn’t bake a single bad pastry if you tried.” 

“I’d like to try a pastry,” Mattheo interjected. 

You tore your attention away from Enzo. The smile that you reserved for him transformed into a scowl, your entire body language turning stern. “I’m sorry. Who are you again?” 

“Riddle,” Mattheo supplied. “Mattheo Riddle.” 

“Right,” you said slowly, as if speaking to a small child. “My pastries aren’t for sale. You’re more than welcome to try the day-old brownie behind the counter though. If you can manage to chew through it.” 

Mattheo sputtered, but you paid no mind to his aghast expression. Enzo fought the urge to kiss you right then and there. 

“Closing again tonight?” he asked, ignoring the blatant stares from the rest of his friends. 

“Unfortunately. Diggory bailed again. Probably too busy snogging Cho to come in for his shift,” you said with an eye roll. 

“Leave those lovebirds alone,” Enzo quipped back. “They’re in their honeymoon phase.” 

“I can’t for the life of me understand how they aren’t sick of each other by now.” 

“That’s because you’re a mean old grump.” You glared at him, which only made Enzo smile. “Luckily for you, that doesn’t deter me. I’ll come keep you company if you want. I promise to be way more entertaining than Cedric.” 

“It’s not a hard task to accomplish, but I’ll take you up on it nonetheless.” 

“I thought you might say that,” he said with a small smile. “I’ll meet you back here after my last class. Pad Thai tonight?” 

You nodded and grinned back. “This is why you’re my favorite, peach.” 

The boys gaped as you ruffled his hair in parting. They waited until you were out of earshot before launching into a tirade. 

“What the bloody hell was that?”

“Just friends my arse.”

“I can’t believe she actually smiled at you!” 

“It’s strange how treating Y/N like an actual human being instead of pestering her while she’s trying to work yields such positive results,” Pansy retorted. “I think you all need to start following Enzo’s example. Clearly he’s had more success than you lot.” 

Blaise patted Enzo on the back. “Mate, you might be the most oblivious bloke in all of Britain, but you’d have to be an absolute knobhead not to see what’s right in front of you.” 

He hummed in response, glancing up at the exact same time that your gaze met his from across the room. You winked, making him blush furiously. Merlin, you were pretty. It was honestly unfair. Maybe Zabini was onto something.

When it came to you, even Enzo had to agree that he was a total and absolute knobhead.

Later that night, Enzo helped you clear the plates and mugs as the last customers trickled out of Deja Brew. The soft sounds of your perfectly curated playlist trickled over the speakers as you flipped the sign to closed. He watched with a small smile as you hopped up onto the counter and beckoned him over. The fairy lights twinkled above the ceiling, illuminating your smile as Enzo took his place next to you. 

The sight of you grinning up at him tugged at his heartstrings. There were coffee stains on your jeans and apron, your thick hair was falling out of its braid, and a cold bowl of Pad Thai awaited in your lap and yet he’d never seen anything more beautiful in his life. 

“Aren’t you glad Cedric bailed?” Enzo teased, knocking his shoulder with yours. “Now you get to enjoy cold noodles with your favorite person.” 

You chuckled, nudging him back. “I suppose this is nicer than listening to Diggory ramble on about Quidditch. It’s always bludger this, bludger that. I honestly considered bludgeoning him myself.” 

“To be fair, the man could merely breathe and you’d still find a way to be annoyed by it.” 

“No one needs to inhale that much oxygen.”

“I rest my case, you mean old grump.” 

You rolled your eyes affectionately. “You know, if anyone else called me that I’d poke their eye out with a fork.” Enzo chuckled as you stabbed into your bowl of noodles. “Besides, I have every right to be grumpy. It’s been a long day. Thanks to your incessant little friends.” 

“I’m sorry about the guys,” he said earnestly. “I tried to talk them out of flirting with you, but they’ve got this crazy theory.” 

“Oh?” You asked, raising a brow. “What’s the theory, then?” 

Enzo flushed, avoiding your gaze. “They uh…” He cleared his throat and stared at his shoes. “They think you fancy me.” 

“Hmm,” you hummed thoughtfully. “Maybe they’re not idiots after all. Your friends are right. I do fancy you.” 

White noise rushed through his ears. Enzo’s mouth fell open as he met your gaze. Surely, he hadn’t heard you correctly. 

“You alright there, peach?” 

“You…” Enzo trailed off, his voice tinged with disbelief. “You like me?” 

You chuckled. “I have for a bit. Thanks for finally noticing.” 

“How?” Enzo muttered. “What?” He cocked his head, trying to search for the proper words. “Why?” 

At the moment, it appeared that one syllable words were the full extent of his vocabulary. All those languages in his head and yet he couldn’t form a single coherent sentence. 

“Enz, I know your drink order by heart,” you explained softly. “I make you cupcakes and muffins. I write you notes every day. I thought I made myself pretty obvious.” 

“Gods,” he breathed, silently reprimanding himself. “I really am the most oblivious bloke in Britain.” Enzo licked his lips, turning over to look at you. “I just thought you were being nice.” 

“Lorenzo, when have I ever been nice to anyone?” 

“I am a bloody idiot.” 

“You never made a move, so I just thought you didn’t see me that way. Which is fine, by the way. I don’t mind being friends.” 

Enzo turned so fast he nearly smacked into the register. “Are you kidding? I’ve had a crush on you for months. You’re the best part of my day. Waking up and knowing that I get to see you every morning is the only thing that gets me out of bed.”

“Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

“Because,” he stated matter-of-factly. “You’re out of my league. You’re smart and funny and not to mention way too cool. Honestly, I thought you’d go for someone like Mattheo or Theo or literally anyone else but me. Someone a little more…” he trailed off, waving a hand over you. 

“Scary?” 

“No! Well, yes. Someone more confident and intimidating.” 

“Bad boys aren’t really my type.”

He scrunched his eyebrows together in confusion. “They’re not?” 

“No,” you said, setting down your food and turning over to face him. “My type is a nerdy linguistics major who teaches me how to curse in six different languages and who makes cute little conjugation charts and orders drinks that should quite frankly classify as a dessert.” 

Enzo’s smile grew wider. "I like you too, you know. A lot. Like, embarrassingly so. With your grumpy little scowl and all black wardrobe and dry humor. I like all of it."

You beamed as Enzo leaned closer, tracing your lips like he was trying to commit the curves of your smile to his memory. His heart pounded in his chest as your eyes flickered up to meet his.

"Then kiss me like you mean it, Enzo."

Despite your confidence, the air left your lungs as soon as Enzo cradled your face in his hands. The twinkling lights made his brown eyes shimmer like pools of honey in the dark. The tension stretched between you as he leaned in closer, his lips brushing yours ever so gently. They briefly closed around yours—tasting, testing, taunting. Then the dam broke free.

Enzo pressed you closer and kissed you like his life depended on it. You smiled against his lips, melting into his touch as he tilted your head back for more. Butterflies erupted in your stomach as Enzo sighed into your mouth, his lips molding perfectly against yours. The once shy and experimental kisses turned needy and passionate, making you feel slightly lightheaded. Enzo savored your soft sighs, kissing you over and over again to elicit more.

It wasn't until you felt like the air had been depleted from your lungs when he finally relented. He pressed his forehead against yours, noses brushing as you both grinned at each other. It felt right to be this close. It felt like you were made to do this all along. Enzo brushed his thumb over your cheek, looking dazed as he pulled back to look at you. 

“It’s about time, Berkshire.” 

“Hey,” Enzo grumbled, pecking at your lips. “You can’t blame me. I couldn’t even look at you without blushing and making a fool of myself. You’re so intimidating.” 

“Not so scary now, am I?” 

“Oh no, I’m still terrified of you. But I’ve also seen you cry during the Notebook, so I know that deep down inside, you’re just a big softie.” 

You started to protest, but Enzo just leaned in and kissed you again. With his lips pressed against yours, you couldn’t even remember what you were about to say. As he pulled you into his lap, you heard cheers coming from outside. Behind the glass window, his friends were cheering and wolf-whistling rather obnoxiously on the street. 

Enzo responded by flicking them off and kissing you even harder, pressing your bodies together as you giggled. He hauled you to your feet, his arms circling around your waist as he dipped you for a better angle. Your back hit the counter as you raised to your tiptoes, winding your arms around his neck and mussing up his hair as you arched for more. The hollering only grew more incessant when Enzo grabbed your ass and squeezed. The groan that escaped from his mouth made you dizzy with desire.

If one kiss could elicit such a response out of you, it was almost scary to think what else Enzo had in his arsenal. A cheeky little smile curved against his lips as though he knew exactly what you were thinking. You basked under the warmth of his gaze, feeling flushed and flustered. That pretty face had you entirely fooled. Enzo was far from innocent.

“Gods, I really fucking fancy you.”

With a smile, you kissed the tip of his nose. “I really fucking fancy you too, peach.” 

Despite the many languages in Enzo's arsenal, no phrase or saying could convey how he felt better than his lips against yours. Maybe he hadn't quite mastered the language of love, but he had a feeling that you'd be more than willing to teach him.

[hazelfoureyes]

A Doe in Fall (part 7)

⟢HumanAlastor x FemaleBurlesquerReader - A Doe in Fall

Part 1 - Pretty in Red smut💦 Part 2 - Liar smut💦 Part 3 - A Tragedy smut💦 Part 4 - Enough Part 5 - Too Much Part 6 - Learning smut💦 Part 7 - Recognition smut💦 Part 8 - Trust sexual 🥵 Part 9 - Shiny Things Part 10 - Good Deeds

Part 7 Recognition

It was time to start again. Alastor couldn't forget what his mother had wanted, even if she didn't ask it of him directly. And while he finds his comfort again in killing, Detective Brady finds a lead.

「Warnings/Promises: Human Alastor x Fem Burlesquer reader, smut, reader's thighs as ear muffs, referencing cruel racists in the early 20th century south, reference to marital violence, pussy eaten, p in v sex, no creampie BOO, bad dancing, Alastor's southern accent, Alastor's mother, gossip, murder, greed , two idiots pretending they aren't madly in love, poor family planning, lots of 1920's slang with notes for your ease」

I think I fixed the broken tag list!

....it's been over a month. Here's nearly 9000 words of our favorite idiots. I feel weird labeling this smut now as...we are...kinda past the smut point and just making sweet sweet love. lol ugh gross. thank you to everyone whose offered help, donated, and shared the word about my mom! It’s been an immense help and has made her a little emotional (in a good way) <Florida stole my moms teeth— explanation and donation link> unrelated, anyone want some RadioDust?

Minors…. Minors. My inbox counts as interacting when you’re literally in there requesting smut. I know your bio has no age but baby honey darling I can tell by your writing. 🔞 Do Not Interact 🏠🚗

A development he knew was coming even if no one else believed him. A drug addict with debts to the local crime syndicates disappearing was neither suspicious nor a mystery. Everyone was confident it was obvious Tommy was at the bottom of Lake Pontchartrain or halfway to California.

But not to him, not for Detective Brady. He had been on the beat for the better part of a year, convinced there was a connection between some of the disappearances in town.

No one wanted to hear it though, most people didn’t even care the people were missing. Only the occasional wife, concerned how she would keep a roof over her head and food in her kid’s bellies with the man of the house gone. But other than that, no tears or chest beating for the missing men and women.

Which made him confident there were countless more unreported cases. Just because no one missed them, a crime is a crime.

But, no bodies, no blood, no crime scenes… he looked like he had lost the fucking plot to his colleagues.

The city didn’t want the bad press, not to mention the fact there was no actual crime to be reported. Someone up and left down? Okay, he was a wife beater? Probably left with his mistress. The cruel den mother of the home for unwanted kids? Her assistant takes the lead and she moves onto a new town to menace. Probably running from the people angry with her.

But he finally had something. Tommy was pimping out dancers, and even laid hands on one. Surely there was a man looking for revenge for that. Can’t knock around a man’s woman and have it go unanswered.

So he tried again to find the woman whose only name he knew was a moniker. Autumn Hind.

Every time Brady came to the theater, another excuse. You left early. You were on the roof smoking—- oh, you slipped out the back. Weekends were your off days, so that was useless.

“You’re obsessed.” Detective Freeman threw an eraser he’d picked off his pencil at Brady. He had seen the man devolve slowly over the past couple months.

“Thanks.” Brady was staring at his notes.

“Not a compliment, Kenny. Shit happens, people leave town. You’re acting like a handful of no shows are some conspiracy.” Freeman came to stand behind Brady, leaning over to read his notes, “How can you even read that chicken scratch?”

He clapped the notebook shut, “Every report was a person less than liked. What are the chances they all leave town in the middle of the night, last seen in the same general area?”

Freeman patted his shoulder, “Did you just ask me why a bunch of assholes,” he stood up and made a show of stretching out tired muscles, “who liked illegal hooch* and jazz with plenty of enemies disappeared?” (*booze)

Brady slapped his desk, “There! You said it! They had enemies. But what— what if they had one enemy in common. A bar manager or — or a,” he was still looking for that link.

“Kenny, the boogeyman isn’t roaming New Orleans killing people. If the higher ups don’t care, if the families don’t care, it doesn’t matter. Let it go.”

The sleep deprived detective sunk into his wooden chair, swiveling side to side anxiously, “Tommy’s mother cares.”

“Yeah well mom’s are famously bad judges of character.” Slipping on his jacket, he shot a worried look to his partner, “Ya gonna go home? Janet’s probably a mess. You’ve been keeping late hours.”

“Nah not yet. I gotta get to the theater before this dame goes ghost on me again.”

“Yikes, still? You’ve been chasing her for a while.” He was making a slow inching walk to the door.

“It’d be easier if I had some support. I gotta do this on my own time.” A deep sigh, well past the point of hiding his frustration with his colleagues and bosses. Freeman looked over the wrinkled shirt and wilted tie, evidence of a man losing his grip.

“Welp, good luck buddy. Hope you get to the bottom of whatever this is.” He gestured at the messy desk and disheveled man, “See ya tomorrow.”

Brady waved without looking up. His eyes were staring into the black leather of his notepad. Tommy was the only recent assumed victim with any real suspicion. The woman whose husband disappeared after going to see a show? Only enemy to him was her, and she wasn’t strong enough to take him down. Deadend.

Most recent, nice young man from up north. Went out for a good time, hoping to catch a little lady for some stress relief, according to his coworkers. Never showed up at work the next day. No one had a bad word to say about the man. Making him an outlier, but still. He was young, strong, soft spoken. Not an enemy in sight but no family to worry, either. Deadend.

But Tommy. Someone cared he was gone. He was in the jazz game, the drug dens, the illegal drink business, and had a heavy hand. He was the perfect bad man, right?

He looked across his desk. Bad men. The occasional unsavory woman. Maybe it was just their time. They pissed off the wrong people.

Or the wrong person.

Someone who worked downtown, someone into dance and drink, someone with nights free to do his work. Maybe a hired gun? No, some of these people didn’t have the money for that.

Plus, one person and so many missing? That would be unheard of, it’d be some kind of record for Louisiana.

A record Brady could claim.

When he entered the theater James, the manager who replaced Tommy, noticeably rolled his eyes, getting in front of the man. “It’s real bad for business to have a cop in here all the damn time. Come on, if you’re not here for a raid then could you be a little less obvious.”

Brady looked past him, “What do you mean?”

“You’re— what is it? What can I do for you?”

“Here again for Miss Autumn. Care to give her real name yet?”

“No can do. Ain’t my business to tell. She’s finished her set, asked to head home early.” Brady turned and kicked a chair over, a large man approaching behind the manager before seeing the hip badge and backing up. “Nah we’re not doing that. We’ve told her you’ve come by but she’s a busy lady. Several gigs here and there. Enough, you’re harassing the dancers now.”

With a snap, Brady had his finger in the manager’s face, “Whatcha gonna do? Call the cops?”

“She. Isn’t. Here. What the fuck do you want? For me to tie her up and bring her to your station?”

That’d be ideal.

A month, nearly. Coming once or twice a week to try and speak to you but every time he missed you. He was going to snap if he heard one more time you were gone. Maybe everyone was in on it. Maybe you werenin the back right now laughing at him.

Brady scanned the room, “Where’s she live?”

“How the fuck would I know— please, leave.” James gestured to the doors.

He lifted his badge up, waving it at the patrons seated closest to him, “Yall know it’s still illegal to partake-,”

“Jesus! Enough!” The manager pushed him back, flashing an apologetic smile to the guests, “She moonlights Sundays at The Dime near the park on 5th, singing for a friend. That’s all I got about her life off stage. Will you fucking go?”

The detective perked up, “See, was that so hard?”

Finally, he could feel his fingers grasp the shifting shadow that was his only lead.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“I never said sorry.”

You turned your head, not expecting him to say something serious. Waiting, he didn’t add explanation. Sorry? What had he done… ran out of milk? Forgot to bring in the towels before it rained last week? A quick search of your memory yielded nothing.

“For what?”

He was staring off in front of him. “For putting you in danger before. In the park. I am sincerely sorry.”

You’d somehow almost forgotten. It’d been weeks. Every bad feeling that night had brought you had been carried away by good morning kisses and gentle words before sleep. Nearly every night was spent in his bed, Alastor dropping you off at your apartment when he went downtown for work. The incident in the park was a different lifetime already.

Had he really put you in danger? Or had you rushed into the danger of his hobby to feel closer to him?

“I put myself in that situation. You didn't throw me at that guy. I don’t do a damn thing I don’t want to do. You should have learned that by now.”

Tough act for a woman who jumped up to pour some man’s coffee.

You shook your head, you had to stop equating doting on Alastor as a show of weakness. It wasn’t. Even if admitting that meant admitting you were wrong.

But he had put you in danger’s way, he knew it. “No, you wouldn’t have ever been in that situation if it wasn’t for me.”

Your laughter bounced off the car windows, “Alastor, you met me getting choked to death by a strange man. People will always make dangerous situations for women to be in. Don’t act like you’re special.” A sly smile to ease his anxious heart. “I’d rather be in danger for you than just because I’m a woman. If it’s gonna happen anyway, might as well be worth something.”

His hand slipped onto your thigh, expression softening before his own smile grew again, “Don’t lie to my face so easily. I am very special, we can all agree.”

You looked around, the two of you alone in his car on a side street, “All? You know the trunk is still empty, right?”

“Oh, is that so? You’re quite dangerous yourself, I nearly forgot why we were here.” He patted his pockets to make sure he had what he needed. “When I give you a wave, back up to me, okay? Don’t leave the car. Just drive off if-,”

You kissed his cheek, “Shut it. Not a chance. Go give em hell, baby.”

Alastor crumpled against his steering wheel momentarily, your words cutting his heart open in a most wonderful way. He could never have predicted getting kisses before beginning his dark work. What had he done to deserve this? Perhaps proof someone in hell was in full support of his actions. Straightening his back and checking his hair and glasses in the mirror, he flashed you a smile before slipping out of the car.

When Alastor said he was ready to begin killing again, you were a mix of excited and scared. Excited for normalcy to return but scared of the dangers presented there in. You’d been dodging the blue eyed detective for a while already, and moving forward meant possibly making mistakes he could grab a hold of. Not mentioning the risk of someone hurting Alastor again…but for your part in everything, you and Alastor found a compromise.

A deal had been made. You’d stay in the car and bring it to him when he was done. He had asked you flee if something went wrong but you both knew that wasn’t going to happen. Crawling into the driver’s seat, you tried to remember what he had taught you. How to get it started up, how to make it go backwards. How to make it go, in general. You’d never driven a car. Well, not until Alastor insisted on teaching you. Driving up and down the long stretch of road he lived on, Alastor white knuckling the door handle as you jerked the car forward with every failed shift. You had started on his land, but he feared for his home's safety with you behind the wheel.

Your hands slipped down the steeling wheel, big and round. Your mother would’ve had a hoot had she seen you in the driver’s seat. Clearing your throat, you leaned into the back of the car and double checked the canvas was properly secured.

Another man tonight. The few times you’d both gone out for leisure, having preferred to spend time alone at home, Alastor had gotten gossip that piqued his interest.

You remembered the way the woman’s hand touched his arm when she leaned in. “You didn’t hear it from me but it’s best to avoid French Study on Thursdays. Real piece of work slipping something in drinks and robbing people.” He reported what she had said back to you. It’d panicked you, realizing you were closer to being on Alastor’s list than you’d realized.

“No, the issue isn’t the stealin’. It’s what he does with the people with,” he had been delicate as he said it, taking another long sip of whiskey, “other things of value. And the fact this man has no need to steal. It’s ridiculous! His family has been land ownin’ and well off for generations.” Alastor was always impassioned when discussing the things he hated, even when slipping into drunkenness. His accent came through when he had too much to drink, his real accent. The accent his mother had. “You robbed men for power balance, for their assumptions you were easy to manipulate to begin with. He? Uh, Him? He’s just a piece of shit. He thinks he’s better than everyone else. And no one would report him ‘cause his family name.”

His drink spilled a little, when you had offered to clean it he just slipped the button up off. He lost his usual classy air as the bottle emptied. Which you actually liked.

The benefits of drinking on his back porch was no need to worry about decorum. Music was softly spilling from the open window behind you, Alastor’s prized record cabinet spinning the newest presses.

“It’s like there’s a little bug under my skin,” he wiggled his fingers over his sternum, “It’s gonna dig into my bones if I don’t cut it out.”

Despite your own drunkenness, you nodded and followed along, “So, ya gonna kill ‘em?”

Alastor pouted, making you snort, “I don’t want to think about that right now.” He enunciated every word clearly in his practiced and professional voice.

You’d ended the evening playfully arguing the merits of prohibition on the jazz scene and watching Alastor dance around the wrap around porch. But the conversation hadn’t ended for him.

Little hints he was still focused on it popped up over the following week. Alastor randomly asking you how it felt to be drugged, did you wake up in pain? Embarrassed? Scared? You caught him staring at the greenhouse from the window one morning, lost in thought. Before he had finally said he wanted to go out again, you understanding what that meant, you’d seen him turning a dinner knife over and over in his hand impatiently.

And now here you were. In the car beside a park late Thursday, Alastor having done some scouting while you’d finished up early at the theater.

It took hours. Which was good, it meant Alastor wasn’t rushing. He liked the stalking aspect of killing, of watching someone from across a room knowing exactly how their night would end. And as that man whose name would soon be buried with him alternated smiling and barking orders at staff, Alastor felt his stomach flutter. Like watching a slab of meat slowly turn over the fire. The crueler he was, the worse he acted, the more Alastor found his fingers tapping on the bar with anticipation. Perfect. Damn yourself more. No fake smiles or double faces, no, people like him didn’t even try to play the game others were forced into. Born with money and land already theirs, they didn’t even know the rules.

But Alastor did. Alastor mastered them at the tender age of 14. When he realized his father’s features were a shield. His mother’s lessons on manners and charm his weapons. The first time he was in mixed company, when someone leaned in and whispered a cruel “prank” he had planned for a young dark skinned woman on the other side of the room, he understood. They pulled back and smiled at him, and he managed to muster one of his own. Just smile, they’d take it to mean whatever they wanted it to mean because they thought he was of the same mindset. They assumed it. Like so many other things people would assume about him as he grew.

When he told his mother the story after getting home, she shook her head. When he had asked her what he should have done, she set down her book.

“Well, I’d love to say you should have stood up for her. But I’d also like to have my son above ground.”

He asked her why she couldn’t have both.

“Sweetheart, we don’t usually get the choice to do either, let alone both.”

He offered a solution, after a moment of thinking, “I shoulda buried him first then.”

“Wouldn’t it be nice if that was how the world worked?” She returned to her book, “If God just struck em down dead as soon as they hurt people. Better yet, before.”

It would be nice. It was nice. Because Alastor couldn’t wait for God to make the world his mother mentioned. He grinned ear to ear, gloves a second skin, as the man crawled backwards in the grass like an animal cornered. His heart was pounding in his ears. Where to cut first? The gut, his family fat and soft from the money they made off the labor of others? The pale neck of a man who never spent a day outside, instead indoors drugging strangers for sport? The chest covered in a fine cotton shirt he didn’t appreciate?

He wished he had many arms, as many as he could imagine, to slash and tear in tandem.

“What do you want? Money?” the animal asked him.

Alastor shook his head no. No, he didn’t want money.

“Do you know who I am?”

Alastor nodded. “That is precisely why I am here.”

Would he beg? Cry? Bargain? Experience told him it’d be the latter.

“Alright well, if you know who I am you know you’re making a mistake. Here.” The man opened his wallet and pulled out a few greenbacks, holding them out for Alastor. Alastor’s smile softened slightly, remembering tossing you a wallet once before.

He reached down with his left hand to take the money, but instead grabbed the man’s wrist. Swiftly, quicker than the man could process, he took the knife tucked into his belt behind his vest and stabbed the man in the stomach.

Staring into his eyes, he could see his own image looking back at him. Smiling.

Alastor grabbed your face with both wrists, hands bloody and one still holding the knife, and kissed you when he’d flagged you down.

“Is this for bringing the car around without running you over?” Your eyes glanced at the knife beside your head. He apologized, tossing it into the trunk.

“No, just happy to see you.” A mischievous grin that made your knees weak, his body shimmied closer until he was pressed against you, stealing another kiss. His arms stretched out to keep from bloodying you. Your fingers slid up his cheeks to return the kiss. “Thank you, dear.”

When you returned home, to his home, that is, you took to task bringing in the laundry he’d left on the line and putting away the things still on the counters from breakfast. You couldn’t resist going to the second floor room and looking down into the greenhouse. You couldn’t see perfectly well, but you could see nonetheless. Alastor didn’t want you in the greenhouse yet when he was working. He said it was the ugliest parts, the kind that would sure give you nightmares or rob you of your appetite.

Considerate. But, it only made you more curious. Would you be sick if you saw? Would you never eat meat again?

What would you do if you didn’t have any reaction at all?

You watched Alastor leave the greenhouse and lock the door behind him, so you hopped down the stairs to meet him in the hall beside the kitchen.

He’d been sweating, shirt open to reveal a thin white undershirt, and under his arm was a canvas roll. He lifted it up, “Tools. Rinsed them off but I’d like to dry them under the electric lights.” You grabbed the aprons from the wall hooks, Alastor letting you slip it over his head and tie it for him. “Why so tight?”

“I like the way it makes your waist look.” You’d seen him wear it when making biscuits. It made his shape so clear. It reminded you of watching water drip down his sides and roll off his hips in the shower.

He beamed, “I’m listening. What exactly do you like about my waist?” Sharp brows raised as that friendly tongue peeked out at you.

“Hush.” You cooed.

You stood on the long side of the table, him at the short, and took turns wiping the tools dry and checking the other’s work.

As he grabbed each one he would tell you what he used it for. Holding up the garden shears and explaining the point along the blade that had the strongest force. The advantage of curved pruning blades when used on a human body. His eyes were gleaming as he spoke, looking so lovingly at each item like it was a loyal pet.

He finally noticed you were grinning and chuckling softly, so he dropped his smile for dramatic effect, “What? What’s so funny?”

Shaking your head, you set down the next item for him to inspect, “Nothing. You’re just so cute when you’re talking about your passions. Your face lights up from the inside out.”

His breath hitched, smile actually lost as he processed every syllable. Your turn now to notice him staring as you looked up from your work. You recognized that look though, the wide eyes and serious lips. The air of the kitchen felt like the atmosphere before a thunderstorm rolled in.

Alastor set the tools back onto the canvas one by one and carried them to the counter. Before returning he picked up a small knife and set it near the edge of the table.

“Come here.” He nodded his head to space in front of him. The way he said it, that tone, made your heart begin to skip beats.

You slid between him and the table, Alastor lifting you up with a startling ease and setting you onto cool wood. Kicking your legs a little, you set nervous hands onto your lap. You wanted to touch him. To pull him by the apron straps into you.

“How do you always say the right things?” He closed the distance between you, one hand on your neck while his mouth came to your ear. “The things I didn’t know I wanted to hear?”

Swimming. Your mind was swimming. “Why is your idea of right the same as my idea of the truth?” You could feel the grin. Sighing into your ear, down your neck, his hands grabbed your hips and pulled you off the table enough to press your core into his clothed erection. Even through his pants and the apron, you could feel him clearly. When did he get so hard? You always wondered in those moments if it was the topic of discussion. Or the knives. Or your need. Biting your lip wasn’t a thought out action, but Alastor loved to see it. Rolling his hips into you in response.

“Wanna go upstairs?” you asked.

He shook his head, slipping off his glasses.

“Oh no, don’t even wanna see me?” You teased, but firm hands held you tighter to him in response.

“I won’t be letting you get far enough away from me for that to be a problem.”

When he leaned down and his lips so very gently pressed into yours, you could feel it. That missing something from before. It was in the air, it was rolling off of his body and dampening your senses. A desire, a drive that you felt that first time you had sex with him in that apartment above the theater. A motivation that was lacking last time in his bed.

His eyes were staring down into yours, waiting for your response. Eagerly you replied by chasing his mouth with yours. A chain of kisses as you tried to ever remember enjoying kissing another person as much as him.

Not a single soul. Why did it feel like this was all you ever needed? Eyes closed and lips on lips, hands in his hair, it felt like you’d been holding your breath all of your life. His body on yours was a gasp of air.

For Alastor, he couldn’t even think of breathing when around you. Let alone when your mouth was on him. Every time you touched him all he could think about was the word ‘affection’.

So when your tongue swiped up his lips, he moaned as he opened for you. Not because he was new to kissing someone with so much lust. He’d grown accustomed to the things you did to him. No, because you were a fever that had taken hold of him and your kiss the medicine that soothed his delirium.

He wondered, was that why people called it ‘love sick’?

“You really like me, don’t you?” He asked, nose sliding up your jaw.

An opportunity presented to you. A chance to spill over the edges.

You pushed it away, legs wrapping around his waist and pulling him closer.

“Something like that, yeah.”

His hands pressed flat against the table to balance the deep roll of his hips against you. One of your own fell behind you to keep from falling backwards, the other flung over his shoulder. When you moaned into his cheek he captured the sound with his mouth and slipped his tongue back into you.

You liked him. He’d known people to love and not like their partner an ounce, but the way you appreciated his quirks made his heart sing in its brittle cage. You never ceased to see him. The issue with always putting on a show is people tend to be disappointed when the actors become human again. But you never met his persona. He was knife wielding, bloodlusting Alastor from the first word. So when he was himself, you recognized him clearly. Because he was all you ever knew.

And you liked him

You appreciated him.

He dared to think maybe he could inspire more from you. A thought that made him twitch below the belt.

Closer. He needed you closer. He needed you so near to him that he’d never forget the feeling of being wanted. It’d be imprinted on his chest and his arms and his lips.

Impatient hands slipping up your sides, along your neck, down your chest. His greedy mouth suddenly understanding the same greed he once marveled at in your own kisses. Hot tongue sliding over yours, delving deeper into you with every return.

When his hands seemed to come to an agreement, they yanked you forward again. You’d fall off ass-first if he pulled you any further.

You watched with only slight horror has he grabbed the small knife and hiked up your dress in tandem. A gulp, worried the other shoe had finally dropped on a too-good situation.

“Are you particularly attached to these panties?” His eyes were looking up and over his glasses.

“No?” Did you really need panties, you wondered. Ever? Girdles we’re falling out of fashion perhaps you’d all be naked again soon enough. Maybe you two could start another Eden. A pomegranate’s juice the new red staining his skin.

Not even a tremble, his hands lifted each side and sliced them free.

“Oh?” You didn’t have a real question in mind when he tucked the panties into his back pocket. Just a need to express you saw it and didn’t understand it.

Alastor took your hand and pressed it against his hardened length, eyes locked onto yours with a sharpness to them. But when your hand took hold of him and squeezed, everything softened in his features. Funny how where one area grew stiff another melted.

He rolled his eyes closed as you finally undid his belt and pants. A struggle you didn’t see, Alastor trying to keep from pouncing on you like a horny virgin. He didn’t want to rut into you, he didn’t need the pleasure. He needed something he couldn’t see or explain. He just knew you held it behind your teeth.

When your skin pressed into his and you both moaned together he was sure you were the same. One person, split into insufficient parts. Finally lined up flush in place.

When you circled your hips against his aching cock, he wondered what you were chasing after. Was it the pleasure? He’d give it to you in spades.

He was on his knees with his face between your legs before you could close your thighs in surprise.

You needed both hands now to keep from falling back onto the table. “Alastor,” a whine.

He knew better than to talk with his mouth full, so he let two fingers work their way into you with shallow thrusts. Easing you open for him.

“Yes?” His eyes didn’t leave his fingers, glistening under the kitchen light. You hadn't thought much ahead past his name, once his fingers were in you and curling up to find your spongy and soft bundle of nerves your mind had gone empty.

“We can just fuck, if you’re horny.” You watched him watching himself.

“Where’s the fun in that?” His mouth returned to your mound, broad tongue forming a point and finding your clit.

A lazy moving tongue would be frustrating if not for his fingers punishing your g-spot. Consistency was key, and his hand was focused and skilled.

Suddenly you remembered the piano in the sitting room. That’s where you knew that movement from. That clearly practiced muscle memory.

Alastor felt confident everywhere but rarely did he feel comfortable. When your thighs came together and squeezed him at the ears, he felt positively cozy. Would you be so kind as to be his ear muffs come winter? He’d have to remember to ask when his mouth was free. How many cold nights he could now rest assured he would have warmth just a little dive of his head away.

Lowering his mouth, nose buried in your muff, he wriggled his tongue in with his fingers. Not enough, rarely was anything enough any more. He stilled his hand and prodded at your sensitive walls with that intrusive tongue, relishing the little movements you made in response. Taking his digits out entirely, he buried his wet muscle as deeply as he could reach.

The huffs of exhales you were making triggered a moan from him that you felt through your skin. His enjoyment was tripling your pleasure.

Goosebumps ran up your arms at the combine sensations of his moaning and prodding.

When his lips and tongue returned to their uneven teasing of your clit, three fingers now swiping past your inner spot with every thrust, your hands came to his head. Fingers slipping through his hair and gripping every time your body shook. Encouragement, the more you tugged the surer he was he was doing the right things.

And oh, he was. You said the right things but Alastor always seemed to act on them. Your senses lodged themselves between the even stroking of your g-spot and the unpredictable movements of his tongue. One kept the pressure rising as your orgasm climbed, the other pushed you along jolt by jolt.

Curious thing. That night in the park he didn’t have much reaction to your enjoyment, but he found himself not fully softening in his lap as he continued. Normally, unless still physically stimulated or the rare time you stirred something in him, he wasn’t very… battle ready.

But the feeling of you pulling him in by the head, fingers in his hair and thighs at his cheeks; this was different than the others. He was sure now it wasn’t just physical pleasure you wanted. His pride said it was more.

Dozens of times before— he truly was a rake in some aspects, though admittedly it was all in the pursuit of avoiding “sex”, as defined by most, not chasing it — he helped a date find release with his tongue. But it never did anything for him. They moaned and said his name and screamed. Which was lovely. Who doesn’t enjoy recognition?

When you said his name, it was heavier. It was material, it had mass and as its gravity began its pull he found his mind circling that sound. He was pleasing his darling, not placating. And it made him react in that unusually crass way.

He felt like an apex predator when killing, tearing open animals made for him to hunt. But you made him feel baser. Prey in your gentle bite.

As your orgasm mounted, you began tugging at his hair to pull him off. You didn’t need him to stop, but everything was suddenly too sensitive. It was alarming to feel your body rocking from overstimulation. A strident cry filled the kitchen as your back arched off the table. He didn’t let up, despite how much you thrashed under his mouth. Rolling pleasure, muscles electrified and shaking beyond your control.

You patted his head harshly, “Good, I’m good. Alas—tor! Fuck!”

Ah, he loved when you swore. It punctuated your otherwise preternatural aura with a touch of humanity.

He stood and leaned over your now reclining body. Your pussy still clenching and legs shaking as he admired his work. You admired his shape in his apron, his broad shoulders and sharp eyes. Caught between your legs like a lion in a mouse trap; he acted like he had no way free of you. His grin widened and he made a display out of licking each finger clean. Eyes never leaving yours.

You knew many men to squawk at going down on a woman. To balk at wearing an apron. To grimace at the suggestion of cooking a meal while their lady took a nice bath or enjoyed a coffee. Alastor seemed to not think twice about any of it. How nice it would be. To have a partner beside you, to not be the woman in the often referenced “behind every great man is a great woman.”

“Alastor, I want you.” You pulled him down by the neck and stole a kiss. When he began to stroke himself fully back to life you pressed that hand to his chest. “Not like that. Though I’m not declining the offer.”

His eyes saw something in yours. “Sweetheart, you have me. There is no part of me that isn’t possessed by you. I know we keep things relatively… tightlipped for safety but I’m your fella and you’re my gal.” His nose touched yours. “But if you want more, I’ll become more. I’ll break myself apart and make myself better.”

Your heart sank. Sitting up to command a little authority, a feat given you were sitting panty-less on a kitchen table, “Don’t you dare. I’ll always meet you where you are, got it? Don’t go… groping around in the darkness for me; trying to find what I need. I’ll always come to you. Because you’re more than enough as you are.”

A little cough to clear his tightening throat, “I’ve not had a day of darkness since you arrived.” A kiss to your forehead before a soft thumbpad wiped at the corner of your eye. “Did I make you sad?”

You wanted to say it. But not now, not like this. You didn’t want Alastor to connect love and sex. To think one was necessary for the other.

While you were coming to learn how lovely it was to pair the two together, it was a fact they were wholly independent things. And you couldn’t allow him to think they were a set.

“You’ve made me too happy. It’s absolutely terrifying.”

But Alastor had found your expressions of acceptance always tumbled the circle of Love to overlap with that of Sex. It was only in that mixed space did he find desire in pleasure.

A wicked smirk, “Let me pile on my affections and drown out your fears.” His hips rolled into you again, a surprising eagerness returned to his lap. “Can I continue?”

With a nod and a smile, “But not another word of change, buster.” You leaned back on your hand for support. Alastor was happy to return to your heat, lining up and sinking into you. An embrace like no other, one he found particularly earnest when with you.

Close. Finally. You began where he ended, a natural extension of who he was and who he could be. The things he could have. A relieved sigh he didn’t try to hide before he began moving, a moment when his tension could melt. You were both an unseasonably warm autumn day and the cool comforting shade of an unfamiliar tree. Both the heat and the relief.

He watched your body rock against the table, even fully dressed you managed to look more scandalous than any show he’d seen downtown. He was grateful he didn’t seek this comfort often in others, the way his mind melted made him feel vulnerable. He couldn’t think straight. And then you began to make those lovely little groans, high pitched and needy, and he was sure his soul was errant.

As his thrusts deepened, cock no longer kissing your cervix but ramming into you with good intentions, you dropped back as you lost the battle against his hips.

Alastor’s arms slid up our waist and pulled your arms towards him, “Too far, I can’t see your face.”

Your arms were slung over his shoulders as your back curved for him, “You don’t need to see my face.”

“Tsk, wrong.”

Your new favorite place was right in front of him, wherever his line of sight was you wanted to be in it. Nose to nose, heads tilting to recapture soft lips and softer moans.

Until the softness left, Alastor’s skin slapping against yours as he dragged those lovely sounds from you. He watched your eyes roll closed, mouth open as you moaned with the safety of the seclusion of a country home. A thought bubbled up, inspired by you.

“I want the neighbors to hear you.” That smile half cocked across his upsettingly handsome face. His hand slipped between you both to repeat the motions he learned before. Hard and fast, no choice but to raise your voice.

Your head fell back, clit still sensitive, “You don’t have neighbors!” A new moan hitting the walls.

“I do— just a few miles down the road, dear.” His mouth latched onto your neck but he didn’t suck like he wanted, he couldn’t bite. Your skin was your job, your body not his to mark. Suddenly he remembered, “Do you still have that make up? For your bruises?”

You couldn’t understand why he would bring that up while balls deep in you but you nodded.

“Would it work on your neck?” He nipped lightly.

It clicked, “Absolutely.”

You felt like a teenager again. When his tongue swiped over your soft flesh before he began to suck on the skin there you could feel the heat rising off your chest. You could feel him everywhere, and with the knowledge he wanted to hear you, you tossed your shame out of the kitchen window and relaxed into the pleasure.

As he moved up your neck he left little marks behind. There was no sense left you didn’t occupy. He could smell the soap and sweat of your skin, taste your cunt still on his tongue, your sights and sounds a decadence he couldn’t get used to. And the feeling of you… velvety walls, a feeling finer than silk as he slipped in and out of you. So incredibly hot on his most sensitive areas, pulling him back in with admirable strength.

He felt his orgasm ratcheting up but tried to hold back. He wanted more time to experience your ecstasy, to wallow in your openness. Even pressed skin to skin now wouldn’t satisfy that deep desire for this unique level of intimacy. So he wanted to enjoy it for as long as he had it.

But, he knew he should prepare. “I don’t want to dirty your dress.” A lust heavy voice penetrating the nap of your neck. He’d made a risky release before at your urging, something he often thought about when work got quiet. But he knew he needed to think clearer now.

“Then don’t.” A terrible reply but you wanted all of him, every drop of his hunger for you. “Keep the mess in me.”

“My dear,” he slowed his hips, autopilot keeping them moving at all, “I don’t think now is the time for,” you tightened around him to trip him up, which worked spectacularly. Alastor had take several seconds before continuing, “talks on family planning.”

A pang of nausea and fear, small and sharp in your abdomen. It wasn’t that you weren’t aware of biology, just that Alastor brought out your baser animal instincts, too. And before, when he came buried as deeply as he could reach, it felt like you’d actually completed some ritual. Bears hibernated, birds migrated, Alastor came in you.

You’d never let a man do that before Alastor. “I just want to… accept everything you are willing to give me.”

He bit his bottom lip to redirect some attention away from his now throbbing member, “And when you’re sure on me, I’ll always provide.”

A pout that he kissed, you accepted the terms. An argument could be made you were already very sure, but you were well aware how naive that sounded when you’d known each other for so little time. Had a coworker told you she’d met a guy and within three months was ready for… the consequences, you’d have laughed and asked if she was drunk or just stupid.

Alastor wanted to provide. But he knew you’d be the one with the raw end of the deal, he couldn’t risk coercing a decision in the heat of the moment. If your mind was half was addled as his with pleasure then you were in no state for big decisions.

Life changing decisions.

Decisions that filled empty homes.

Fuck, why wasn’t he a less considerate man?

When his kiss deepened, so did his ministrations. He was fully sheathed and so unwilling to draw back more than a couple inches you wondered if he had changed his mind. It felt like a man not wanting to stray too far from home. One hand on the small of your back, his other other on the back of your neck. When he pulled out he pressed his tongue further, only stopping the kiss when he came onto the little space of table between your thighs. Soft and swollen lips parted as his breaths ran ragged. A smile spread across your face as you watched his eyes open, witnessing a pleasured blow out of his pupils.

When he grabbed a kitchen towel and cleaned the table, you chuckled at his grimace. “See? My way is cleaner.”

He didn’t reply at first, taking the cloth and hovering over the sink before tossing it into his trash. “Only in the short term. We can finish up tomorrow with the tools?”

Your legs kicked again, not ready to slide off, “Mm, it’ll be easier in the daylight.”

“Instead,” he zipped his pants but removed the belt and set it on the counter, “Let’s get zozzled* and sway around the sitting room? Crash where we land.” (*drunk)

“I’ll pour if you get the music on.”

He turned to leave but paused, “No, I’ll handle the drinks. You always have too heavy of a hand.”

“I didn’t hear you complaining last time…”

“I’m not sure I remembered I was at home and not at a drum* last time…,” He uncorked the label-less whiskey, grabbing two glasses with one hand. “Didn’t wanna insult the pretty waitress.” (*speakeasy)

Fair. You weren’t much for drinking and always underestimated the strength of illegal hooch. Some were weak and some could kill you. But fancy Alastor had connections with the kind of people no one dared to risk harm to, so he always had the most trustworthy goods.

Good music, great whiskey, and even better company. You thanked him for being safe while working, he praised your ability to learn new skills so quickly. After a few drinks he pushed the coffee table against the wall and you drunkenly swayed around the room to something playing smooth and low. As much as you enjoyed your conversations, having your head tucked under his chin as neither of you said a word somehow filled in the little cracks of your heart more so than any talk. For him too. No tension after sex, no stress of how long he’d get to breathe before the next instance of prodding to do it again. He could smile and close his eyes and feel the room swing and sway in total safety.

A safety neither of you knew was being threatened from afar.

When you woke, Alastor was gone. A note on the table letting you know he’d run out to grab some things for breakfast. Telling you to relax and recover.

You put the furniture back, bringing the glasses to the kitchen and his belt to the bedroom.

Coffee and a slow perusal of his home. Intimate details you tried to not stare at when he was there. The rare photo of his mother, a woman you didn’t speak about, a conversation you didn’t need to have, but someone you knew existed fondly still in his life. A silent thank you to her.

No photos of a man to give thanks to you so you turned to the little curios and mementos. 

Little seashells and sand dollars, a small gator’s skull. Books, about anatomy and history. Novels about crime and love and mystery. Ticket stubs for films he’d seen. Little bits of his mother scattered in. A woman’s necklace. A chatelaine* with all of the accessories and tools. (*wikipedia page)

When you felt you’d spied enough, you crawled into his side of the bed and inhaled as deeply as you could. His pillow smelled like him. You let yourself sleep off the hangover surrounded by pieces of Alastor.

Pieces you couldn’t contain. Pieces left around town as a dick* hunted for his personal monster. (*a detective, but also, a dick, fuck this dude?)

Beth, or Betty as you called her, the friend you often sang for, was cleaning up from the previous night when Brady walked in. She tried to tell him they were closed, but he took a seat at the counter anyway.

“I’m looking for a singer named Autumn. She been around lately?”

She paused, knowing the name was tied to your work. This man didn’t know you. “Whose asking?”

“The city of New Orleans”, he set his badge on the counter top.

“Is she in some kinda trouble?”

“She the kinda dame to get into trouble?”

Beth laughed, “She doesn’t try to but men, liquor, and jazz tend to make it happen. She’s okay, right?”

He took a deep sigh, trying to blink away the exhaustion and remember he needed to be someone strangers trusted. Being honest hadn’t been working and being rough barely got him a lead. “Well I was hoping you’d know. Found out someone roughed her up a bit ago and just wanting to make sure she’s okay. But I don’t have her legal name, no address, nothing to track her down.”

Shaking her head, she leaned onto the counter, “What? Some egg* forget it’s just a show?” Brady shrugged. “I can’t say. She hasn’t been by in a couple weeks.” (*man)

He asked why. Feeling the deadend approaching.

“She was just doing me a favor. Once she got a guy she didn’t have much time.”

Fighting the urge to slam his fists against the wood and sling his notebook across the bar, Brady took slow breaths. Jaw clenched as he grabbed his pencil, “That is wonderful news. Hopefully a fit guy who can… keep her safe.”

Beth laughed a little, “I don’t know about that. He’s kind of a daisy*, but real kind.” (*a non-masculine man)

“Could I get a name? Or her address? Wanna follow up. See for myself that she’s doing well.”

She tapped the bar with two fingers and winked, “Ah no can do. Flatfoot* or not, I don’t tell men where to find sleeping ladies. But her fella is in radio though. I recognized his voice right away. Popular too, really ritzy air about him.” (*cop, detective)

As he left, he slapped the notebook against his palm over and over. When he stopped to take a second to congratulate himself something caught his eye. Across the street was a park he knew well. Following the block and turning, he could see the white and green awning of the cafe he’d seen you at before.

Had he been there? He hadn’t questioned why you were alone on such a nice day. But maybe you weren’t. Maybe you’d been playing him from the start.

Enough games.

When you took the stage that evening, a Friday show with a promising crowd, you felt like solid gold. Alastor would be there to pick you up in a few hours, you had every need met. And now you had the adoration of strangers to pump up your chest.

Until you passed your come-hither eyes over the crowd and a striking ocean blue pair knocked the wind out of you.

James was standing behind Brady, mouthing an apology. You missed a beat in your routine but forced your smile back. It took a second, to slide back into the actress you were when away from Alastor. Every time it got harder and harder to fall back into that role but you managed. His eyes never left your face, and you thanked God your heaving chest could be seen as fatigue and not the sheer panic that had taken ahold of your body.

When you were on the other side of the curtain you considered rushing out the side door, into the alley and down the street. But you couldn’t. You’d successfully brushed him off for so long but now that he had seen you, had made it clear he was there for you, you couldn’t flee. Innocent people don’t hide from cops.

Feet dragging, you saw some of the dancers standing around the dressing room door. “He’s out of his gourd if he thinks I’m changing with him in there.” One said loud enough to ensure Brady heard. When you entered the room he was sitting at your make up table, legs spread and your shoes in his hands.

“There she is!” standing, he extended the shoes to you, “Don’t stare like a deer in the lights. I’m sure you knew I was coming. Slip these on, we’re going for a ride.” He gave them a shake, “You can call your mac* from the station and let him know you’ll be late.” (*man)

˖  ݁𖥔.Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult.𖥔 ݁ ˖

@cxrsedwxrlds , @nonetheartist , @tsunaki , @janchei ,  @moonmark98 , @hoebihoeshi , @pansexual-opera-house , @polytheatrix , @lorddiabigmommymilkers , @backinthefkingbuildingagain , @harley2223-blog  , @poinappel l , @midnightnoiserose , @spookieroz , @missmidorima a , @ivebeenthearchersstuff , @downbadforfictionalppl , @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx , @sleepylittledemon , @aether-th3-enby , @dontfuckbutimfab , @breathlessaura , @aperfectidiot , @certainlygay , @jth12 , @star-kujo-platinum @ivebeenthearchersstuff , @rubyninja1 , @simphornies

, @readergirlstuff , @berry-demon , @chirimeimei , @fairyv-ice , @olive-frog , @thonethatflies620 , @tiredkiwiii , @ilikemyteawithmilk , @whateverlololo , @psipies , @howabouticallyou , @roxxie-wolf ,  , @fizzled-phoenix ,  @phobophobular  , @mariaclarade-la-cruz1 , @whateverlololo    , @a-case-of-attachment , @multifandomfanatic02 @watereddownmilk   , @bontensbabygirl 

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Not A Verstappen: Away We Go {2}

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x fem!driver!reader x Lando Norris Summary: It seems as if everything you ever dreamed of is just within your reach. You got the guys and the baby, the only thing left is the seat. Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, smut, fluff WC: 3.3k F1 Masterlist NAV: Sibling Rivalry || One || Two || Three NAV: Gridlocked || One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven || Eight || Nine NAV: A New World || One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven || Eight || Nine || Ten NAV: Lights Out || One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || 6.5 || Seven || SMAU || Eight || Nine NAV: Away We Go || One || Two || Three

A giant raspberry sounded from the nursery, followed by a high pitch giggle and then two deeper laughs. 

“Where do you think you are going?” Lando asked when Autumn rolled to her tummy and started to crawl away. 

“Coming to papa, aren’t you, ma petite?”

Even with the door to the office closed you could hear their soft words as they played in Autumn’s room down the hall. It was hard to concentrate when you were torn between joining your family and completing the testing you were contracted for on the SIM but there were only 30 laps left of the session and the team needed the data. There may have only been three races left for the year but there were plenty of teams with vacant seats waiting to be filled. You understood negotiations took time and there were often conversations with multiple drivers being had at any one time but you were hopeful that at least one seat would be secured for you. The testing for Mercedes, Audi and Williams had been promising. 

You finally shut down the SIM racer and left the office but found the nursery dark except for the moon and star mobile that softly glowed as it played a lullaby for Autumn who was fast asleep in her cot. Disappointment grated your resolution as you came to understand how Charles and Lando felt missing time with her when they went away for work, but you pushed it aside as you leant down and kissed her chubby cheek and whispered, “Sweet dreams, my love.”

Lando grinned when you found him in the kitchen making a drink and he instantly picked up on your mood. “Hi honey, how was work?”

You stuck your tongue out and stole the tea he had made as Charles joined you at the breakfast bar, the baby monitor placed in the middle. “When did she go to sleep?”

“About 10 minutes ago. We tried to keep her awake so she could sleep on the plane but she is like her daddy and loves her naps,” Charles said with a pointed look to Lando. 

You rolled your tense shoulders after hours in the same position driving and moaned when Charles stood up and used his strong hands to massage them. “Fuck that feels good.”

“You know what else feels good?” Lando asked with a suggestive wink. 

You tipped your head back to look up at Charles and found his eyes staring at your breasts with a hunger that could never be sated. “I have a few ideas…” he offered.

You checked your watch and calculated how long Autumn would likely nap for before letting your thoughts wander to the same place as theirs. A trail of clothes littered the hallway to the bedroom and you shoved the suitcases off the bed with little regard for the mess. Motherhood hadn’t diminished your sex drive like some people warned, but the time available was significantly less for said activities. So you made the most of the moments you could. 

“Condoms,” you warned while you were still coherent enough to remember. The train of thought was quickly derailed when Lando caught you around the waist and tossed you across the blankets. In an instant he was there, nudging your thighs apart with his shoulders and burying his face between them. 

Charles was more leisurely, taking his time and stroking his cock while he watched the two of you. His bottom lip swelled as he pinched it between his teeth until he needed to feel your bodies with the same urgency you felt the moment you saw either of them naked. His hands found your breasts that he had fallen more in love with and he delighted in the weight of them filling his palms. That wasn’t the only change to your body that he loved in the last seven months.

The effort put in with Kristian had paid off and you found breastfeeding absolutely burned through the calories, making it much easier than expected to return to a weight close to pre-pregnancy. He had helped you to get fit without compromising your body's ability to make milk but even toning your muscles couldn’t erase the stretch marks that littered your skin. You were no longer self-conscious of them, Charles and Lando had made sure of that months ago. 

Charles’ kiss scorched your lips as he dominated your mouth, parting your lips with his tongue as you moaned against him. Your head fell back as you bared your throat for him, his teeth grazing your racing pulse as he kissed and nipped his way down your body. Your cunt tightened around Lando’s fingers as Charles’ tongue traced the silvery marks that forked like lightning across your hip. It was ticklish and torturous until Lando broke away to share the taste of you with Charles and you moaned at the sight. 

“How are you feeling, mon amour?” Charles asked as you reached for them, stroking their hard lengths while their hands roamed your body.

“Impatient and greedy,” you answered with a needy whine when Lando purposefully missed your clit with his thumb.

“I think she wants us,” Lando teased while Charles reached for the box of condoms. 

“It does appear that way,” he replied with a chuckle, rolling the latex sheath down his length. “But does she want us both at the same time?”

Your lips parted with a moan at the idea and their eyes darkened until you could hardly see any colour around their dilated pupils. “Please…”

Lando grabbed your hips and rolled, taking you with him until you ended up straddling his waist and he looked up happily. “Hello, beautiful. Do you come here often?”

“Not as much as I would like,” you giggled, but it turned to a moan as he lifted you over his cock and let you sink down on him. 

“Putain,” Charles swore softly as he watched you rock your hips and ride Lando. Unable to resist joining in, he straddled Lando’s legs and lined himself up with your body, easing slowly inside as you froze. “Are you okay?”

You couldn’t put into words just how much more than okay you were but you managed to moan and nod. 

“She’s good,” Lando confirmed with a strained laugh as he forced himself to stay still while you adjusted to having the both of them seated inside you. It took all his strength not to thrust up like he wanted to, but he didn’t want to hurt you. “Just take it slow, baby.”

Your muscles began to relax and your breathing returned to normal. The strain in your core eased and you slowly began to set the rhythm until the pleasure grew stronger and your body was ready. Moans filled the room and your nails dug into Lando’s chest as your walls fluttered as you fucked yourself against them. Charles reached around your body and cupped your breasts that grew heavy in his touch, his fingers pinching and rolling your nipples until they began to leak. 

“Fuck,” Lando moaned at the mess they made of you. Your jaw hung slack and your eyes fluttered shut as your cunt tightened around him. Creamy milk ran in rivulets down your flesh and pooled on his abdomen and he grabbed your waist, tightening his grasp so he could fuck you harder. He could barely think, barely breathe when you drove him wild with the need to fill your cunt with his seed. Lando’s back arched off the bed, lifting you with his as he cried out with his release. His heart hammered in his chest beneath your palms and his cock pulsed inside you, filling the condom. 

“God, that felt good, too good,” he chuckled as he swiped a thumb over your nipple and licked the drop of milk he collected. “Hmmm, so sweet.”

“They are very full,” you admitted somewhat shyly, having missed feeding Autumn before her nap.

“I can help you with that,” he offered with a smirk and your body gave you away as it clenched around their cocks. 

—

Charles and Lando were still showering when you heard Autumn on the baby monitor. Rushing around the room, you gave up on drying off properly and tossed a robe around your damp body instead. 

“Hello, my littlest love,” you greeted her happily. Light flooded the room as you opened the blockout blinds and found her standing inside her cot, her grabby hands reaching through for you. “I hope you had the sweetest dreams.”

Bright green eyes looked up as you reached down to pick her up and the smile she gave made your heart stutter. The twin dimples were set deep in her round cheeks and the pure joy on her face brightened your day. You still couldn’t believe how lucky you were to call her yours. 

You boyfriends must have finished showering as a delicious scent wafted in from the kitchen and you quickly changed Autumn. “Shall we go see what papa is making for lunch?”

Charles was already placing a plastic bowl of fresh cut fruit beside the high chair but Autumn had no interest in that when she saw your plate of stroopwafels. 

“Just like her mama,” Charles chuckled, placing a second plate down for Lando who emerged from the bedroom half dressed. 

“Have you seen my shirt?”

“You’re going to have to narrow that down,” you commented after swallowing a mouthful of waffles. 

“McLaren one.”

“That doesn’t exactly help, mon cher.”

He waved a hand dismissively before he spied the papaya coloured material in the living room. A corner of the sleeve peeked out from the soft play toys overflowing from the storage box and Lando dug it out with a laugh. 

“See, she wants to join the papaya army,” he said as he sniffed it before pulling it on. 

“Why don’t you get a clean one?”

Lando frowned and looked down to see if there were any marks. “It is clean.”

“Men, honestly,” you muttered to Autumn, only to notice she had stolen a stroopwafel while you weren’t looking. “Hey, that’s mine. You’re lucky you’re cute, missy.”

Charles joined you at the table and reached for one too but you smacked his hand out of the way. “Am I not cute too?” he asked with a pout.

You cradled his jaw and brushed a thumb over his pouting lip before giving him a kiss. “Baby, there’s many things I would call you before calling you cute. Handsome, sexy, love of my life-” 

He cut you off with a kiss, his arm snaking around your body to pull you onto his lap. “Sorry, keep going, amour.”

You blinked twice as you tried to remember what you were doing but he was still distracting you with his lips on your neck. “I lost my train of thought now.”

“Cover your eyes, baby girl,” Lando gasped dramatically. “Papa is being naughty.”

“If papa wasn’t naughty she wouldn’t be here,” you pointed out with a smirk. 

“Would having another be so bad?” 

You practically jumped off Charles’ lap and wagged a finger at him when he shared a conspiratorial look with Lando. 

“Not happening.” You closed your robe tighter to prove the point and crossed your arms over the thick material. “You two can keep it in your pants until those thoughts are looong gone.”

You left them to get dressed and returned in a pair of sweatpants and a stolen hoodie, the attempt to hide your body only making them laugh more. “You do realise I get turned on when you wear my clothes,” Lando pointed out as he tugged the cord, closing the hoodie around your face. With only your lips visible through the hole he stole a kiss and buried his hands in the back pocket on the sweatpants, squeezing your ass. “Forgive me yet, baby?”

“No,” you grumbled, but the way your body leaned into his contradicted the word. 

Light burst back into your vision as Charles pulled the hood back and he tugged you out of Lando’s arms. “We have a flight to get ready for and 20 hours is a long time to have blue balls, mon cher.”

“I just wanted a cuddle,” Lando groaned. Charles gave him a look that said he clearly didn’t believe him and Lando turned away to free Autumn from the high chair. “Come on, princess, it’s just you and me against the world.” 

–

The toddler earmuffs swamped Autumn’s head but they seemed to work as she slept soundly strapped to Lando’s chest in a front pack. It was way past her bedtime and it probably would have been best to return to the hotel and put her in the travel cot but you wanted to be with Lando and Charles for the race. Being back at the track where Lando crashed left all of you unsettled but he calmed down best with Autumn in his arms.

“This late night schedule is so messed up. There’s still four hours to go. What are we meant to do in the meantime?” Charles asked as he checked his phone again for the schedule of pre-race events.

“We could get married, well not legally get married, but nothing says we can’t have the ceremony,” Lando said as he pointed to the paddock chapel: Race to the Altar. “What do you say?”

“Romantic,” you chuckled, watching Charles as he dragged a hand down his face in dismay. “But it’s the thought that counts. Why not?”

“Wait, really?” Lando gaped, unsure if you were playing with him or serious.

You shrugged and looked at Charles. “We already have the baby and you guys already called me your wife.”

“She makes a good point,” he admitted, a smile growing as he looked at Lando. “So?”

Lando’s brows lifted and for a second he was lost for words. “I mean, yeah, let’s just go get married. Why not? Let’s fucking do this. You aren’t joking right?”

“You asked me,” you laughed. “Backing out already?”

“No, absolutely not. We are doing this,” he said with a nod. “But, uh, should we call anyone?”

Max was in the paddock, so was your mother and Lando’s father, but other than that most of your families hadn’t been able to make the trip. 

“How about we do this on our own?” you suggested as you continued along the path towards the Chapel. “Maybe we can have a proper celebration during the break? We don’t even have rings.”

“They actually have themed rings, they are mini Pirelli’s,” Lando said as he showed his phone after a quick google search.

“Yikes, we are not getting the C5 - that just won’t last.”

“Aw, don’t like it soft, baby?”

“C1 all the way,” you said with a flirty wink, “go hard or go home.”

Charles laughed along with Lando. “How about full wets, no?”

“Now you’re talking. Maybe she can wear Wet and we can have Hard’s.” 

“No, thank you. When we get home we can get proper rings made for us.”

The guys still debated getting the Pirelli themed rings in the meantime, until you threatened a quick divorce. It didn’t take much convincing for the minister to make a three way wedding but in Vegas that was probably one of the more sedate requests he had received. 

“There are some suits in the changing room if you want,” he offered, jutting a thumb to the room behind him. “A dress too, ma’am.”

Lando looked down at his McLaren shirt and Charles did the same with his Ferrari. “If you are half as loyal to me as you are to your team then I am one lucky lady,” you chuckled before nodding to the minister. “We are fine as we are, thank you.”

“Okey dokey, then let’s get started. Do you have any vows prepared?” He took the silence as a no and clicked his tongue. “No matter, I have the basics. Just fill out these forms and I’ll take a copy of your ID.”

“This isn’t going to be legal though,” Charles confirmed with a frown.

“Not technically,” he said with a shrug, “but I can still fill out the paperwork and give you a copy for keepsake. Call it ‘the experience’.”

You liked the idea of having marriage certificates and you already knew where you were going to hang the framed copies in the bedroom. It was painful having to complete three forms though, one for your ‘marriage’ to Lando, one to Charles and then a third for Lando and Charles’ ‘marriage’ to each other. 

“Repeat after me,” the minister said, reading the standard vows you had seen in every movie. 

“I, Y/N L/N, take you both, Lando Norris and Charles Leclerc, to be my husbands, to have and to hold this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part.” Your lip began to wobble as the ceremony began to feel real and it was no longer just a fun way to pass time. This is what you wanted, to have both of these men for eternity, and you couldn’t stop from adding, “And if I go first, just know that I will wait forever if I have to until we meet again because this life together will never be long enough. Now please say something funny before I really start crying.”

Lando choked a laugh and wiped his eyes. “I, Lando Norris, take you, Y/N L/N, to be my wife, and you, Charles Leclerc, to be my husband to have and to hold this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part. I also promise to be your biggest fan and support you through every win and DNF life throws at us, and do your laundry.”

Your laugh cracked with a sob and you looked at Lando through watery vision before turning to Charles. 

“I, Charles Leclerc, take you, Y/N L/N, to be my wife, and you, Lando Norris, to be my husband to have and to hold this day forward,” he sniffled and wiped away the tears that escaped before he could continue. “When we met we were rivals, threatened by each other's talent, but when we fell in love we were racers who respected one another. Today, I get to marry my best friends and I promise to always be there to help you achieve your dreams and help us grow together as our journey continues to eternity. And I promise to always put our family first…Ferrari a close second.”

“Forza Ferrari,” the minister murmured with a small supportive nod before he reached for the box of tissues under the dais he stood beside. He gave you a moment to dry your eyes before he smiled. “Then by the power vested in me by the State of Nevada, I now pronounce you, husband and wife, and husband.”

A stupid giddy laugh escaped and you didn’t bother waiting to hear the next part as you threw your arms around your husband’s and kissed them. It felt like you were floating away with the surrealness of the situation as you signed the documents and they were handed off to an assistant that just arrived. It had been less than half an hour since Lando had suggested it and then suddenly you were holding three laminated sheets of paper meticulously detailing a wedding as if it were legal. 

“We need to get back to the hotel now,” you said as you held the documents close to your chest. 

“Consummation time,” Lando winked.

“I won’t have my first time as a married woman be a quickie, thank you,” you tutted. “These are going straight in the safe before anyone sees them and it gets leaked. Max would probably kill us for not inviting him.”

“I’m glad you are included this time. Usually it’s only us getting death threats from him,” Charles teased before checking his phone. “We should have time to drop it off and get back before the media interviews begin.”

Click here for the final part.

[solbaby7]

Calypso

pairing: azriel x reader

warning: swearing, mentions of being beaten, violence, murder, probably typos, based off a tiktok i saw (pretty sure this is based off a play or something along those lines)

summary: The sweetest member of the Inner Circle shows the Autumn Court the true extent of feminine rage.

—

“Something is wrong,” Azriel couldn’t stop pacing, heart thumping so hard in his chest he was sure there was an imprint beginning to etch its way onto his skin. A hand absently rubs at his chest, clothes feeling too tight and his brothers don’t miss the rigid raise of his wings. Shadows cloak his form, curling around his ears and tugging on his clothes in their own way of communicating the same thing he had. “Something is very, very wrong. She should be back by now.”

Rhysand try’s to remain reasonable—to regain control of the rapidly escalating situation but you were supposed to have been back nearly four hours ago.

At first, the High Lord had thought it was a good idea; that you’d be a pleasant change from Az’s domineering brood or Cassian’s incessant need to mouth off but the longer they waited the more Rhys considered that maybe he made the wrong call. “She’s gone on missions to Autumn alone many times before, Az.”

The shadowsinger nods in agreement but his stance doesn’t relax even a bit. “Sure but she’s never once been late getting back home. Never.” Saying the words seem to be confirmation enough, waiting one second—two before he’s retreating from Rhysand’s office and saying fuck it to any of the consequences that he would surely face if he got there and something had happened to you.

“Az,” Cass shouts from down the hall, bounding steps sounding against the polished floors as he falls in stride with him. “Just wait for one second.”

“If it was your mate, would you wait?”

“Of course not but we just need two minutes to assess the situation before just barging inside—this is Autumn we are talking about here.”

“I don’t care.”

Fingers rake through shoulder length hair, honey eyes clocking Azriel’s determined stride, the hard brow and strong set of his mouth. “I understand that but if it gets her killed—”

“Us waiting might get her killed,” Azriel snaps, nearly growling the words free; shadows stiffening at his shoulders in agitation. “I won’t risk it. I won’t lose her.”

There’s no room for fighting; not when Rhys and Cassian were too busy trying to keep up with Azriel’s brutal pace to cross the wards. Winnowing in a rush never did well on the stomach but the unease that churns in Azriel’s gut the moment they arrive at Autumns borders is anything but normal.

“This isn’t right,” Cassian insists, following behind with a watchful eye; every muscle in his body tense as awareness prickles to life. “Where are the guards? The hounds?” It’s too quiet, the sky too dark and yet Azriel continues on a path of his own making; following the pure string within to draw him back to his other half.

The spymaster rips through the trees, shoving aside offending branches with little regard for the noise being made. It works in his favor, stumbling at the right place at the wrong time judging by the frazzled guards and a High Lord soaked from the waist down. Complete silence fills the space; not even a bird chirps, no rustling of woodland creatures, no crackling cadence of crawling cicadas. “Where is she?” Azriel demands, voice dangerously low as he searched deeper within the bond; scrambling for further direction, desperate for the confirmation of your safety.

Beron Vanserra looks too smug, a devilish smirk crafting in the corner of his mouth. Auburn hair falls from its neat styling, clothes ruffled and Azriel knows he can’t be the only one who notices the petrified expressions plastered on the guards faces—the fact that none of them make a move to comment on Night Court breaching another’s borders without permission. “Where’s who?”

“You know who,” Rhysand says your name carefully, casually pressing forward until he stood before Azriel, serving as a barrier between a male withholding answers and another male willing to carve the world to pieces in order to obtain them. “Your meeting with her should’ve ended hours ago.”

“It never started,” Beron waves a hand dismissively, his clothes drying with the motion. Guards surround him, leaving a gap for visibility but their security is subdued; trembling with fear and eyes glistening with guilt. “She never arrived.”

Azriel’s grip tightens around the hilt of Truthteller, golden irises narrow to slits and his voice is but a hiss. “You’re lying.”

A brow raises, the overwhelming scent of whiskey and cinnamon muddled by sea salt and ocean spray; a confusing combination laced with a distress that did not belong to the High Lord of Autumn. “Do you have proof?”

Shadows creep up Azriel’s form, silently reminding its master of their presence and willingness to eliminate the threat no matter the outcome but before his lips can form words—an unnatural noise cuts through the air. The hairs on the back of his neck stands at attention, golden eyes surveilling every inch of dense foliage. “What was that?”

Its eerie and drawn out, almost like song but the melody held no comfort, no warmth.

“What did you do?” Azriel swallows thickly, shoulders uncomfortably tense as the humming continues, layered feminine voices piercing their ears like the sirens Cass always talked about around a crackling fire after too much to drink.

“I did nothing.” Beron shrugs, voice even and sure but the fear that settles behind his eyes isn’t equally well hidden. His body language betrays him, subconsciously shuffling closer to the readied guards that flank every side of their High Lord.

“Vanserra.” Your silhouette is barely noticeable when cloaked in the night and Azriel’s brow raises at the tears in your gown, the healing split of your lip—and where were your shoes?

Rhys calls your name, taking only a single step before Cassian’s iron grip curls around his arms, swiftly tugging him back and behind him. A general protecting the leader of his court as the scene before them became horribly apparent. “Impossible,” Beron whispers, not bothering to hide the disbelief—the horror. “You died.”

Azriel’s stance faulters, the stony expression unable to hide the unbridled pain that etches its way onto his features at the words.

But, you don’t seem phased.

In fact, you don’t seem much like yourself at all.

The soft glow of your light is replaced with a murky darkness; soiled by anger and the bubbling desire for vengeance and all of it is directed towards the copper haired male with a heart like coal and a soul filled to the brim with ash. “Get in the water.” You command.

“I am immune to your witchcraft, demon.” Beron scoffs your way, attempting to deflect the shake of his voice with the accusatory finger pointed to the High Lord of Night tucked safely behind his brothers. “Control your bitch or I will.”

Azriel pushes back the need to retaliate, golden eyes sliding from the male to the woman he loved; a woman who exuded unbridled feminine rage the longer you allowed such power to flow through you—power you always kept so bottled up, so contained. Soothed into submission by your kindness and grace, the love you shared with friend and stranger alike; all unleashed from the conclaves of their confinement. Az’s grip on Truthteller tightens and it’s a true test of will to tear his gaze away long enough to address Beron once more. “What did you do?”

The Autumn Courts High Lord goes still. The air seems to thin, the water bristling against the rocky shore; howling, shouting, demanding to rise—to bend at your will and follow out the revenge you seeked. “Tell them,” Your voice ebbs through the space between you, unnaturally controlled, unusually low and unbearably empty. “Tell them what you did to me and maybe I’ll show mercy.”

“I did nothing.”

A guard sucks in a shaky breath, sweat lacing his brow and it takes no more than a second before he’s released hold of his weapon and drops to the ground on his knees. “Forgive me.” He begs, hands pressed together as if he were praying. “I-I’m so sorry. So, so sorry.” Cassian regards Azriel with a sharp look, crimson Syphons brewing with power as every cell in his body screamed that something terrible was going to happen—that something terrible had happened and they were too late. Forced to stand by, frozen as you were molded into a woman they could hardly recognize. The pretty blue dress you’d left in is torn, ruined fabric sagging in ribbons, showing off collarbones covered in bruises shaped like fingerprints, in cuts that healed before their very eyes. Soaked hair hangs past your shoulders, dripping down your back as the wind whipped through what remained of your clothes. “I beg of you, please, have mercy.”

The apology does no good and before Cassian can work up a plan to get Rhysand as far away as possible, you’re already wrapping them in a dome of water so crystal clear it’s like glass; shielding them from your rage while providing a front row seat to the events long since forged in stone. “Rhys, can you get in her head?”

“I don’t have to,” Rhysand responds barely above a whisper, violet eyes so pale, pupils so pinpricked as the events were shoved at him at an upresendented speed. You, arriving as planned, joining the High Lord privately for dinner when the two sips of wine began to have your body feeling like a whole night of binging at Rita’s with the girls. The images project onto the other, Cass and Az watching with bated breath as they looked through your eyes, felt your disorientation, the fear, the disgust when hands roamed over your body. It took everything for Azriel not to break, to unleash horrors upon Beron Vanserra and every male involved as he watched you beg for them to let you go. Your shoes left in a hallway in your struggle, soft skin and prettily painted toes marred by the rough tugging, the crude remarks and sick promises to kill you quick.

Cassian’s stomach churns, food curdling from within when he feels you strain against the water, as they held you down and left you there long after your hands went limp.

They could feel the power within you, pumping back life into the tiny sliver of hope left, expelling the water from your lungs and replacing that beacon of light with something the High Lord of Autumn better understood. “Get in the water,” You say once more, stepping closer and the crashing waves seem to move with you, lapping at your bare feet, salving over aches and bruises.

“Or what?” He spits, struggling to grapple into whatever control he had left but his vile tone holds no weight in comparison to you and cold expression settling into your eyes.

“Or I’ll raise the tides so high, all of Autumn Court will die.” There’s no bite in your words, only pure promise; steps strong and filled with an uncapped power so strong it seemed to throb. The bustling waves behind you climb higher and higher, so high the skyline is blocked; so high that nothing else existed behind you but such torrential oceans filled with its creatures that thrashed and snapped their jaws to do as you pleased. “Say the words, Beron. Tell them what you did to me.” Azriel’s feels it before he sees it; the bubbling emotions, the swelling power inside of you coming to a head and begging to explode. “Say it!” You demand so furiously the same guard on his knees visibly flinches, thick streams of tears trailing down his aged face as his back bows in submission before their very eyes.

He sings like a canary, confessing to following their High Lords orders of sending the Night Court a message for foolishly in believing in peace. The male professes how one of the cooks were told to lace the wine to subdue her. He musters up the decency to spare the shadowsinger a pleading glance, spilling out useless apologies and promises to never do it again—how disgusted he felt harming a female; one who was so sweet and gentle but orders were orders.

No one speaks, the other guards eyes are as wide as saucers, mouths parted in utter shock as they await the repercussions of the confession; trembling like branches in the wind under the suffocating pressure of your power.

Beron doesn’t pay the sobbing male swathed in armor any mind. Instead, he’s trained on the fellow High Lord—borderline desperate in his command. “Control her. Please.”

“It’s all about control with you, isn’t it, Beron?” Each step closer has your nose curling in disgust, lip quirking in a snarl. “I should fix that.” Wind whistles around furiously, snatching through auburn hair and ripping the overly expensive cloak right from his shoulders. True terror sets root in cruel eyes and the hairs on the back of Beron’s neck raises; primal instincts warning him of impending danger—of inevitable doom. “I’ll make tidal waves so profound that both your wife and your sons will drown.”

“Seize her,” Beron spits, snapping out the words so fiercely that spittle shoots free but even his own protection detail realizes who’s really in control here and not one of them moves to appease the order. “Threatening a High Lord and his family is punishable by death.”

Birds screech their caws of great displeasure, wings fluttering furiously against the trees in such a frenzy that leaves fall free; taunting the end of one reign and the beginnings of another. You don’t feed into his poor attempts of deflecting, his words entering one ear and flying out the other. “You mistake my threats for bluff,” Swords clatter to the ground, Autumn soldiers sharply turning on the balls of their feet with full intent to run—to rush back to their wives and children for the false feeling of safety. You allow them a few strides as a kindness before unleashing the torrential downpour upon them; sweeping each one clean off their feet in their fancy armor. “You have lived more than enough.” Shades of deep red and burnt orange fight uselessly against the angry seas, rough tides swallowing up the soldiers garbled screams and washing them away.

Beron chokes on the salty water, legs pumping furiously against the current, his eyes burning and lungs filling with the catastrophic affects of your anger. “Stop!” His cheeks turn red, the veins in his neck straining against tanned skin and you find yourself fixating on the way his hands claw at his throat—fighting for the slightest gasp of oxygen.

“Did you stop when I begged?” The oceans cover land with ease, seeping past the borders with full intent to make good on your promises on destroying every inch of Autumn territory. “When I screamed for you to just please let me go?” Deep red shifts to an unusual shade of purple, water seeps from his nose and his eyes all but bulge out of the socket.

Choked noises sputter from Beron’s lips, an arm desperately clutching around the base of a tree to keep from being washed up. “I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re not,” The water parts for you, allowing you a perfect path to the High Lord and you take your sweet time watching his struggle—his disarray. He looks so utterly boyish this way, his hair soaked over his forehead, lashes dark and clustered together under the force of ocean spray smacking at his cheeks like a million microscopic needles. “But, you will be.”

Eerie voices sing their song, layering over the other in a plethora of different pitches until Beron’s head snaps from side to side, eyes searching frantically for the source but he realizes too late.

Water wraiths and their siren sisters cut through the cool waters like a sword through the wind, their webbed fingers eager to grab at the deviant of a man responsible for savagely murdering countless of their brothers and sisters in cold blood just for sport. One of them pause, the features of her face rippling with the tide but there’s no mistaking the respectful nod of her head—one that you return.

You don’t linger to watch the rest, your anger fizzling out and all that’s left is the desire to go home and spend a whole week hidden in the sheets with your mate. If he’d still have you after all this. Bare feet trudge against the ground until you stand before your family, the barrier lowered. You can’t meet their eyes, the wounds too raw and their pity too palpable but the familiar comfort of cool shadows drape over you, evaluating and assessing before relaying their findings back to their master. “I—“

Azriel’s body collides with yours before the whole sentence can even form, strong arms wrapping you up and tugging you as close as he could. His hands go over every inch of you, muttering under his breath about how he’d never let you out of his sight again. “You’re okay,” His shoulders visibly relax, when he can’t find a hint of damage on you—not even a bruise. “Thank gods you’re okay.”

Your eyes slide past him, lips pursing as you prepared yourself for whatever came next. You’d killed a High Lord—there’s no chance anyone would just let that go. “Rhysand, I—“

“You didn’t do anything,” He swiftly cuts in, regarding you fondly even if his stomach swells with guilt at the thought of being the one who put you in harms way in the first place. “You’re safe and that’s all that matters.”

For now.

[meiieiri]

STOLEN MOMENTS WITH THEM [FT. JUJUTSU KAISEN]

❁—CHARACTERS: suguru geto, gojo satoru, nanami kento

warnings: suggestive themes in gojo’s part (bc why not haha), mentions of canon-typical violence

a/n: i’m so sorry for all this tooth-rotting fluff, i’m sad rn so hehe :’>> song inspo: you are in love (taylor swift). am accepting requests/prompts btw, just shoot me a message-

༊*·˚ SUGURU GETO

winter afternoons cooped inside your one bedroom apartment are always special days, commonly consisting of freshly-brewed piping hot tea sitting peacefully on your small living room side table, a good book, and the warmth of a knitted throw blanket. snowflakes fall entrancingly from the sky and make a feather-like landing on the glass windows that peek into your home.

suguru geto was lounging silently on the couch with you, your head on his strong lap as he gently combs his fingers through your hair, a leather bound book in his free hand, his eyes leisurely skimming the yellowed pages trying to make sense of the decadent shakespearean sonnets that liken love to that of honey and flowers. you were just about to fall asleep when suguru’s melodic baritone caresses your ear.

“don’t you think he’s so full of shit?” he asks suddenly. how could one speak with such vulgar words and still make it sound like poetry?

“shakespeare?” you sit up and you readjust yourselves so that you can rest your head on his shoulder, peeking over it to inspect sonnet 55. his arms comes up to pull you closer to him, tucking you into the warmth of his chest in a bid to keep you warm. “i thought you liked his work,” you take the offending book into your hands, scanning through the words.

“i do,” he clarifies, tracing shapes on your shoulder, his cheek resting against the top of your head as he waits for you to finish reading through the passage.

when you look up from the book, you are surprised when his lips abruptly yet softly meet yours in a loving peck. his hand moves to cup your cheek as he deepens the kiss, your lips moving together in a perpetual waltz, your heartbeats in total sync. you thought the kiss would last forever, and you and suguru wouldn’t give a flying fuck, but he pulls away teasingly, his forehead resting against your own, his nose lovingly bumping yours as you both come down from your respective highs.

“not as much as i like you, though.”

you shake your head, rose blush tinting your cheeks, hopelessly in love. he truly was the light of your life, the lighthouse that brings you to safe waters.

༊*·˚ GOJO SATORU

despite the horrors that have long plagued the grounds of jujutsu tech, the school, being tucked away in a remote location deep in tokyo’s forgotten countryside, was actually quite beautiful. the backdrop of the tall cedar-wood and red maple trees in the forest adjacent to the teachers’ dormitories that served as a protective cover from unwanted prying eyes is a particularly wonderful sight and in an autumn evening such as this one, emitted a fresh aroma of sweet cherries and almonds.

“i was wondering where you were,” gojo satoru walks in the teachers lounge just as the electric kettle automatically switches off. he woke up in a panic when he noticed you’d gone missing, your side of the bed having lost all its warmth, indicating you must have been out of bed for a good while now. it didn’t help his nerves to see your bedstand digital clock display the time: 1:58 AM in bright neon green on its screen.

he moves behind you, his strong arms wrapping around your dainty figure as you busy yourself pouring the boiling hot water into the two instant ramen cups you had prepared. “that for me?”

“nope,” you shrug. “it’s for nanami.”

that was obviously a lie — he looks at the label of the ramen cup and scoffs when he sees the indicated flavor: seafood curry, his favorite, now, if that wasn’t enough to convince him, he has to remind himself that his adorable blonde junior hates instant crap like this. but still, you found it endearingly funny to see your husband pouting like some kicked dog when you push past him to bring the two cups over to the nearby dining table. “i’m kidding,” you chortle, beckoning him to join you.

“you meanie,” he sticks out his bottom lip as he follows you to the table. he sits down, his elbows resting on the table as his hands come up to cradle his chin, mirroring the image of a child who’d been told “no” by his parent. “i think i want a divorce now,” he sulks.

you feign guilt, playing along with him. you stand up to take a seat next to him. “i’m sorry, baby,” you tell him. he only responds by pointing to his cheek, silently telling you to “kiss it better” if you really were sincere in your apology. you reach up to place a loving kiss on his cheek and a smile spreads across his lips. “better?” you chuckle when he lets out an amused breath.

having made peace, you move to retrieve your cup of ramen when without warning, he pulls you by the hand, crashing his lips against yours in a passionate kiss, his teeth needily sucking at your bottom lip, the heat of the kiss seemingly warming up the entire room that had been filled with the chill of the autumn night breeze. your arms move to rest on his shoulders, as he effortlessly pulls you into his lap, his hands resting on the small of your back. it’s only when you need to take a steadying breath of air that he breaks the kiss.

“all better,” he winks, the ramen having gone cold, utterly forgotten, as the night peacefully went on.

༊*·˚ NANAMI KENTO

“i knew i should have brought an umbrella,” nanami kento sheepishly rubs the back of his head.

“i’m sorry,” his shoulders slump when a low rumble of a thunderclap suddenly goes off, lightning illuminating the sky in a brilliant glow. the date had gone so well — you visited the best art galleries in tokyo, even saw a performance at one of those cozy hidden gem jazz clubs — kento had thought that his luck would hold out ‘till you got home.

but the universe seems to have decided otherwise. now, here you were taking shelter, stranded under the fiberglass roof of a deserted bus stop’s waiting shed. “kento,” your gentle voice quells the dread in his chest, chipping away at the block of anxiety forming in his throat. “it’s okay,” you scoot over, patting the spot next to you, silently telling him to sit down.

reluctantly, he takes a seat, keeping himself at a reasonable distance from you, thinking that you would, at the very least, be upset at him for this slight mishap. “sorry,” he repeats the apology like a broken record, and a compassionate smile forms on your lips.

you slowly scoot on over next to him, closing the gap between the two of you, your pinky finger reaching for his own, as if you were asking for permission. kento notices the gesture instantly, and takes your hand in his, his thumb rubbing your knuckles comfortingly. “…today was fun, kento,” you tell him, a genuine grin on your face, “seriously. what’s a little rain?”

a burden seems to have been lifted from his shoulders. kento nanami was not a man who put much value into love, with how dangerous his profession is, fighting the lurking malevolence hiding in the world’s darkest shadows, he didn’t have time for the childishness of falling in and out of love. it was inconvenient, and troublesome.

at least, that’s what he used to believe before you came crashing into his life and touched the heartstrings he has long resigned to keep under lock and key with your delicate hands.

he silently takes off his overcoat then to wrap it around your shoulders like the gentleman he was (he wasn’t about to let the love of his life get drenched in the rain), resisting the urge to grin when he sees just how small you look in it. the next few minutes pass by in absolute silence, the sound of your breaths being the only conceivable sound for a long while.

“…i’m glad you had fun,” he looks up at the stormy sky again. “i did, too.”

“next time, let’s be sure to check the weather forecast ahead of time,” you giggle. he joins your laughter, bringing your hand to his lips, his warm breath tickling your skin, as he lets his lips touch your flesh in a quintessentially classic affectionate kiss on the back of your hand like they do in those vintage hollywood movies. he tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “i know how much you hate the rain.”

“…i think i can make an exception,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

the decibels of his tenor fight against the loud pitter patter of raindrops crash landing on the fiberglass roof of the waiting shed. but you hear his lyrical confession of love anyway, with your heart’s ear perhaps.

“i have the sun with me all the time, anyway,” kento says, planting a soft kiss on your forehead as the rain washes the remnants of his old world away.

[niki-phoria]

they say that love is forever / your forever is all that i need

pairing: nanami kento x gn!reader (no pronouns used) genre: fluff word count: 503

notes: "nanami quits his corporate job and lives happily ever after in the japanese countryside" au, had this idea and immediately knew i had to write it for nanami lol, not proofread, pls forgive any mistakes !! title from sleeping with sirens - if i'm james dean, you're audrey hepburn

dewy grass and the quiet chirping from songbirds welcome you when you step outside. the wooden flooring of your porch feels cool beneath your feet. you can still faintly smell the familiar scent of earth from the night’s rain; the railing is still damp to the touch. 

taking a seat on your lawn chair, you take the time to admire the trees ahead of you. the leaves are a mixture of dark green and light yellow - only just beginning to change as autumn approaches. vines cover the stone walls that separate your property from that of your neighbors’ until you it’s barely visible behind the foliage. NANAMI KENTO had insisted you move to the countryside since quitting his job as a salesman in favor of easier, albeit lower paying, work in a smaller office. 

the sliding glass door behind you opens with a quiet click, allowing nanami to slip outside. he uses his elbow to shut the door behind him before he quietly approaches. “morning kento.” you smile softly when nanami silently places one mug in front of you. the warm ceramic is a nice contrast to the cool morning air when you wrap your hand around the cup. 

“good morning,” nanami says quietly. his voice is quiet and gruff, filled with the lingering remnants of sleep. the t-shirt he fell asleep in hangs loosely off of his broad shoulders; the fabric is wrinkled in various places that will need to be ironed out later. he crosses his feet beneath your small table, still clad in a pair of slippers you had gifted him for his birthday. “did you sleep well?”

“yes.” the coffee tastes sweet when you take a sip; it’s just warm enough to combat against the cool morning air. you can vaguely taste the vanilla creamer he had stirred in. “did you?”

“i always sleep well when i’m beside you.” nanami says the words casually, though he doesn’t miss the way your smile brightens. 

nanami’s eyes look softer without his glasses. they shine the colour of honey in the sunlight. sleeping in on the weekends has never been enough to combat against his dark eyebags, but you don’t comment on them nonetheless. stray strands of unstyled dirty blonde hair frame his sharp features. his lips rest in a natural downturned curve as he raises a mug, taking a small sip from his coffee. 

“what are you so busy thinking about?” he asks. nanami’s fingers thumb against the handle of his mug as he unconsciously drums against the ceramic. he cocks his head to the side slightly. the movement is just enough to tilt his bangs to the side, making you chuckle softly. 

“nothing,” you murmur in response. your metal lawn chair scrapes against the wooden porch as you push it until it presses against nanami’s. he welcomes your presence by resting his arm across the metal, reaching over to take your hand into his own. you rest your head against his shoulder, relishing in the quiet morning atmosphere. “just you.” 

taglist (open! send an ask/dm to be added): @sunoooism @vaxmpi @sad-darksoul @kamote-kuneho @dog55teeth

if you liked this fic, please consider leaving a like, comment, feedback, or rebloging !! and if you want to support me, check out my jjk masterlist <33

[soleilnewspaper]

Ever since Potions class…

Series masterlist

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

Pairing: poly!wolfstar x fem!reader

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

Word count: 3.6k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I hate you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You can’t keep avoiding it.”

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

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

“Mate you’ve lost me.”

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

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

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

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

“I cannot stand her.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But what about Remus?”

“Were you dropped as a child?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Twenty minutes ago.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I thought you would hate me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What does this mean?” You chocked out.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

They both desperately awaited your response.

Taglist: @maraudersforlife2005, @h3arts4strs

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

[enha-stars]

❀ Have we met before? ; S.J

Listen to: Have we met before by Sarah Barrios

Pairing: Jaeyun x Fem!reader

Synopsis: You don’t know him. And yet, your heart beats for him.

Warnings: fluff, minor angst, familiar strangers, longing, reunited lovers, mention of past lives

The sun shone through the clouds, small beams of light illuminating the street as wind tousled the leaves of trees, painting the road with green.

You lean back in your seat, your coffee tasting bitter and your breakfast forgotten. You rolled your shoulders backwards, hoping to ease the stiffness in your neck.

It had been another night with the same recurring dream, and it was getting out of hand. You had tried researching what this could mean, but all you understood was that you had some form of persistent conflict in your life.

This wasn't a revelation to you, it was a reminder. Your life, unfortunately, seemed to consist of persistent conflicts.

You heard the jingle of the small bell and turned your head to face the street. You thought that coming to your favourite café would lift your mood, but all it did was make you feel like you were missing something substantial.

When you heard some shuffling near you, you slightly lifted your head. Your eyes fell on a man sitting across from you, in another booth. His head was tilted down, his black hair falling over his forehead, hiding his face.

You watched as he used the palm of his hand to hold his chin, reading a book you couldn't see the title of. You slightly shifted in your seat, an overwhelming wave of déjà vu had suddenly enveloped your senses. You couldn’t shift your eyes away from him, enamored by him.

The way the man’s hair was parted, the yellow jacket that brightened the room, and the watch on his left wrist all felt oddly familiar to you.

You were sure you had never seen this man before— you would have remembered him. But you couldn’t explain the feeling in your chest; the way his very presence had you rooted to your seat or the way you could barely breathe.

There was an itch, an urge to approach him. A small part of you wanted to run into his arms, to have him physically pull the air back into your lungs.

He felt familiar; his soft exhaling and the skin of his chin enticed you, forcing you to squint to get a closer look. He drew comfort to himself, pulling the warmth of the café into his skin, making him glow.

You watched carefully as he ran his pale hand through his hair and you exhaled a sharp breath, eyes slowly tracing the veins of his arm.

Those hands were familiar, those long, skinny fingers had danced through your dreams over the years, brushing the skin of your mind as they alluded you deeper into your dreams. They had offered you comfort without ever touching your skin, touching you.

It almost felt like he had touched you now, a gentle brush of air tickling your cheek and you blinked slowly.

At the sound of your gasp, the man looked up. There was autumn in his eyes, strikingly brown, with a hint of passing summer and the promise of a dark winter. His eyes, glowing under the warm lights, pierced your heart.

Your eyes were locked on his. There was a whirlwind of emotions raging against your chest. The outline of his face; the curve of his nose, plumpness of his lips, and the furrow of his eyebrows made your heart drop into the pit of your stomach. There was a vague image of a man in your memories that resembled the man that stared at you now, but you couldn’t help but feel as if your memories weren’t doing either of you any justice.

You knew this man, you knew him.

Beyond the dreams, beyond your fragmented memories, your fingers ached to touch his honey skin. Your body, a structure of clay, felt like it would crack under his warm gaze, an artist scrutinizing his art, begging to be remade.

You felt the sudden urge to call out to him, make sure he wasn’t a figment of your imagination. There was something in his eyes that made you want to reach out, an invitation to greet a ghost of the past. You wondered if touching him would help you understand why the weight of something fell heavy upon you.

A forgotten history, one that was pushing itself to the surface and clawing its way through the centuries.

You forced your eyes to look away, the heat of his eyes becoming too overwhelming, making the sky look shameful in its pride for its soft hues.

You gripped your coffee mug with trembling hands, feeling conflicted. There was an odor of nostalgia in the air, you were choking on it. The messy black hair and thick eyebrows had you biting your lip. The man was so familiar, so beautiful. There were so many thoughts running through your head, but the faint flashes of old and buried memories had won a spot in your mind, causing your head to spin and your heart to race.

Jaeyun’s eyes skimmed the same page for the third time. His heart was beating at an irregular pace and he blinked the déjà vu away.

He hadn’t meant to come to this café today. This was out of his way, the other side of town, but when he began walking, his legs carried him here unconsciously.

When Jaeyun’s eyes met yours, he felt himself lose his grip on his composition. Your eyes were so familiar, he felt like he had to know you. His heart cried in his chest, a wail he had grown accustomed to. The sight of you eased it a bit, a hiccup in a never ending sea of pain.

The layout of the cafe was vaguely familiar, despite never coming here, and he wondered if in another life he had been here before. The cream coloured walls felt a bit like home, and his lips twitched at the sight of the messy painting hanging from the wall.

There must have been a reason he knew exactly what to order and where the most comfortable spot was.

You blinked a few times before standing up and grabbing your bag, leaving your coffee and breakfast behind. You rushed out of the café, wanting to go home to sort out your feelings. Seeing the man in person was too much for you, it had disrupted your very sense of being.

Seeing him in person was so much different than seeing him in your dreams. The dreams always consisted of sceneries and moments that were both unfamiliar and familiar to you. They always ended with you clutching your chest, a name at the tip of your tongue.

You rushed down the street, pushing past people as you clutched your bag, hoping that if this was a dream, it would be your last. You wanted to wake up, to wash the taste of confusion and longing out of your mouth.

You quickly made your way down the stone steps, taking you to your neighborhood when you heard him.

“Wait!”

You halted, catching yourself using the railing. You stood at the bottom of the steps, slightly panting. It was hard to breathe, his voice had rubbed against your skull, scratching an itch you weren’t aware of. It grazed it softly, a soothing sensation against a storm.

Slowly, you turned to face him, unaware of the similarities between this meeting and the very first meeting you had many lives ago.

You looked up. The man stood at the top of the steps, slightly panting. His brown eyes were bright, captivating. Everything you should have remembered but couldn’t seem too.

With an unwavering gaze, Jaeyun slowly walked down the steps until he was a few feet away from you. Being close to you now felt different than the café. Here, he meant too. He meant to approach you, to step into your space with the hopes of it becoming his as well.

You stared at him with pursed lips, the urge to run away stronger than ever. You swallowed the lump in your throat as a wave of unfamiliar feelings knocked against you. You breathed heavily, knees almost buckling as his musk carried along the breeze. The only time you had ever gotten this close to him was in your dreams, a recollection of a past you weren’t allowed to have, memories you couldn’t be sure were yours but had grown on you.

His eyes trailed up and down your body and he blinked, his nose twitching. He took one step closer and parted his lips, throat dry. Jaeyun had never seen anyone as beautiful as you. It rendered him speechless but he had things to say, questions he had to ask.

“Have we met before?”

You exhaled sharply, his voice making you feel dizzy. His question made your stomach churn because you wanted to say yes, but you knew you hadn’t. You had never met this man, at least not in his life. You didn’t even know his name. So, how could you explain yourself? How could you answer him honestly when not even your own mind was honest to you?

Jaeyun took a small step towards you, unable to fight fate which he had mistaken for a pull, a coincidence.

You cleared your throat, trying to pull away from his stare. “I don’t think so.”

Jaeyun blinked. Your voice felt like warm honey being drizzled across his skin, and he wanted nothing more but to get a taste. “I think we have,” he whispered. “I think I know you.”

You gripped your bag tighter, shaking your head. You wanted to deny his words fervently, but you couldn’t. There was no point, was there? Just because you didn’t remember him doesn’t mean you don’t know him.

“I think, uh—” You released a small breath, squeezing your eyes shut. “I’ve seen you in my dreams,” you quietly admitted. You opened your eyes slowly, afraid of his reaction. You sounded crazy, and you felt it too.

Jaeyun’s eyes widened and you took a step back at the heat of his gaze, of the recognition that slowly began to build in his eyes. He smiled and your breath hitched.

There was something beautiful about his smile, something ancient, something homely. You wanted to stay in this moment forever but you couldn’t shake the feeling of trepidation off your shoulders.

“I’ve seen you in mine,” he softly confessed. His lips quirked upwards at the disbelief that flashed through your eyes. “I think we have met before.”

You shook your head, a bit out of reluctance and a bit out of sheer desperation. “No, that’s impossible. I would have remembered you.”

And I you, he thought. He sees you in his dreams every night, and he has longed for you for years, and now, here you are standing before him. He has to know you, to have known you.

Jaeyun took another step forward and he gently raised his hand. You stared at the pale hand with hesitant eyes, before gently bringing your hand up to touch his. Your fingers brushed against his palm and you both inhaled.

Memories of another life flashed before you. Images of you and him flooded your mind and sunk into your blood; stills of you running to him, of his declarations of love, of a life you had shared. A history that belonged to you had finally been returned.

With a loud gasp, you pushed yourself away from him, tears streaming down your cheeks. You both opened your eyes at the same time, unable to comprehend it all.

You wiped the tears from your cheeks, staring at Jaeyun with apprehensive eyes. “Who are you?”

You knew who he was, who he had been to you. You felt it in your bones, pushing against the back of your mind. You couldn’t believe it though. You never thought you’d see him again.

Love can’t transcend lifetimes, unless, of course, it can.

Jaeyun smiled, one that reached his eyes and made the corners of his wet eyelids crinkle. The smile was honest, full of love and sadness and you almost crumbled at the sight of it.

“Y/n,” Jaeyun twinkled. “I’ve finally found you.”

A/n: this song played for the first time in a while and i knew i had to write something. 90% of this was stolen off my other blog, so if you’ve read it before, shhh

[ur-mousey]

If you’re doing requests could you write smth smutty with jeffery from class of 09 x female reader w some dubcon

Benzo-Addict ~

- Yandere!Jeffery x F!Reader -

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

Part Two, Part Three

summary Drugs have always been your friend. A source of courage and tonight's no different. Now it's time to fuck a nerd. Hope your BF understands. 1.8k

warning college AU, mature, non-con, heavy drug use, hostage situation, violence.

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

** Choice ** Head home, hang in the res quad with the other losers, or hot box it in a classroom with Nicole and Jecka. * click *

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

"Nicole, what the fuck is a benzosexual exactly?" Your head whipped to the side at record speed. "Sounds..." You wormed your finger into a salty chip bag while pondering something profound to say other than the obvious: "Not good." There goes anything English has taught you about synonyms. You popped a chip in your greedy mouth. The tang if vinegar and talt collided on your tongue. This shit was disgusting.

Yet, you were on the cusp of moaning with each solid crunch. But, you held your tongue at bay.

"I feel like we had this conversation before." Nicole hummed around the shared point. Inhale. Exhale. Then, she expelled a puff of smoke into the dust flurries kicked up in their shuffle.

The classroom was barren of decore. Stiff and desolate, a reminder that teachers truly made the space, whereas professors rotate. And this fact was wholly evident. The walls stay bare through decades of season. Autumn is born in beige and Spring arises in that same fate, ending the year in beige.

It's astonishing how this educational prison stood in the glory of its singular doodle of Homer with nothing accompanying it on the wall.

And the desks were neatly arranged, bolted to the ground. Only the chairs beckoned students to sit as they were haphazardly thrown. It seemed as if they patiently waited for the next class's arrival. Lonely in nature until chosen for the hour. But, Friday afternoon meant that classes seldom came to these halls

"It's because we had, Nicole." Jecka retorted before gesturing to you, "She just wasn't here for it."

Nicole scoffed, "Sucks for her that she missed all the pedophiles. Now she gets the regular-enough shit, aka standard rapists. I bet even then, they have CP somewhere on their computer."

Jecka puffed her chest up before sighing dramatically. "Remind me again why are you still Hitler? Oh, wait you just did. Grow out of it."

“I’ve grown, obviously~ because I can’t call every man a pedophile in relationship to me. Your whore sister, in 10th grade, she’s surrounded by them by the dozen… See!? Development, bitch.”

** Bzzzz **

"Okay, Nicole is Hitler, but what's a benzosexual?" You urged the pair on. You felt your phone buzz in your back pocket. But you decided to ignore it for now.

"Someone attracted to the unconscious," Jecka twirled her fingers around a singular strand of honey-blonde hair. It almost glowed too brightly in the setting sun. "There was this stupid, insufferable, jock named Kylar at our high school. Who was constantly -and I mean it, constantly- putting weird shit in girls drinks. They'll pass out, and I know he got off to it. A girl that helpless..."

** Bzzzz ** ** Bzzzz **

"Isn't that illegal? Like, shouldn't you guys've reported him?"

"He played lacrosse," Nicole muttered. "Reporting it wouldn't do shit. Sports players get molested all the time by their grimy coaches, and it’s the girl's fault.”

** Bzzzz ** ** Bzzzz ** ** Bzzzz ** ** Bzzzz **

"Truly the Pessimist," You hissed through gritted teeth while reaching for another bite to calm your munchies.

Nicole's stare momentarily flashed to your face, eyes redden and lazy, smoke swirling out her nose, before she leaned further in.

** Bzzzz ** ** Bzzzz ** ** Bzzzz **

"It's Jeffery, huh?"

Your phone was currently blowing itself shitless. The tone of each call or message traveled upwards into the silence. The vibrations climbed your spinal cord like a wooden ladder, propping its feet between your bones, propelling into your eardrums. You cringed. All of this, why? A single moment was swiftly grasped by Jeffery's sudden insistence on a response to whatever you didn't care about. You two were meant to be ex-lab partners, not penpals of 1000+ messages each.

You retrieved your phone. 20 missed calls and 50+ texts.

"Forget creeps like Kylar when there's Jeffery. God couldn't keep him away from us. It's always the kids like him who don't go missing."

Jecka cackled, and her chin came to rest on the top of your shoulder. She read while you scrolled languidly. "Um, good luck playing into his fetishes. Being his... mommy!? And all. Meow~"

You flushed all red, "Don't read it!"

This isn’t the first time Jecka teased you with the force of a rabid cat caller. She did it unabashedly and the pain of her comments left its marks on your face. You made a simple mistake, and that was defending Jeffery during the first week of classes. To you, he was a sweet, smart and charismatic guy, albeit all, a tad socially awkward. Scratch that -he was a lost cause concerning social interactions. It wasn’t horrendous or anything. It made talking to him before stress-free. Now it’s a different story.

There were times as Jeffery’s lab partner that should’ve had you sprinting out of Environmental Science. But, you sucked your tongue tight to the roof of your mouth and smiled without the corners reaching your eyes. He’d crossed the lines of your acquaintanceship too many times to count. You’re the one at fault, no? You were the one that led him on. Why the fuck didn’t you get angry at him but at yourself?

One random Monday, Jeffery gave you a hentai DVD to you with an accompanying notebook which explained his depraved inner thoughts; '@ 1:47, I watched as the 40-feet cat women stepped on guy's penis. And I wish that were you doing it to me The sight made my hand go faster till total completion.'

And frankly, you didn't want to know that. Jeffery, the weird otaku obsessed with NaruParty13, whom you felt bad for, proved to be a complete freak.

With your first semester ending, you closed that chapter of being his lab partner. In came new housing, with your boyfriend and away from the dorms, and less frequent trips to the dining hall, which meant fewer interactions with Jeffery. For literal fuck sake, you shared zero classes together, nor were you a part of the same major. Your paths strayed from one another. You entertained small talk here and there when it felt inevitable. Any sane person would let this lack of relationship go. Not Jeffery. 

"I'm not playing into anyone's kinks aside from my own." You stuck your tongue out, shoving Jecka away.

"And sometimes your sleaze boyfriend."

"Yeah, 'cause I'm perfect 10 with a high libido." You mocked, matching your pitch to Jecka's. "And Cody's not a total sleaze."

Nicole tapped your shoulder with the joint in hand, "He's as depraved as any other man. Hence the usage of the word total."

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

** Choice ** Snatch the weed, or confront Jeffery. * click *

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

You could deal with Jeffery another day.

You were like a kite soaring through the sky. Your mind fell far into a different plane of existence than your own, but you didn't mind. The world was spinning. And, if you were in a room, you couldn't tell. No amount of stable ground could keep your feet stationed. Your vision was decorated in fuzz and pixels. And, in a twist of fate, you thought yourself tumbling forward.

You had taken it. Nicole's shit- that joint was strong as fuck. The first drag knocked your chest back in reverie. Yet you kept ripping. By the time you had left campus, you were inflicted with giggles, and you'd remained starry-eyed throughout dinner.

Then came the Friday night club scene. You downed shots like a bad bitch. Ghandi would be proud.

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

You stumbled through the shared flat with Cody. Your lips entangled with each other in battle. His hands groped your hips and pinched its flesh with fervent joy. His lips were chapped and his tongue held the remnants of beer. You enjoyed its taste against the mint of your gum.

Your boyfriend pulled away. Your name breached passed moans and whines, sobering your tequila-filled belly slightly. "Babe, please grab the Percocet... In the cabinet." Cody damn near whined. You nodded furiously, and your brain rattled against your skull.

He smacked a sloppy kiss on your forehead before shooing you away.

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

** Choice ** Sober up with water, or take a dive into prescription pill wonderland. * click *

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

And down the hatch, the Percocet goes.

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

"You... you little shi- Fuck!"

Cody? Was that you?

His words felt miles away and your head ached. You knew Cody was crying really ugly. Was he talking to you? Were you dying? You were neither here nor there. And faintly, you registered the sound of skin impacting skin. It was unmistakable.

Cody screeched, "That hurts dipshit!"

"You ruined her. People ruined her," A disembodied voice spoke over you. You groaned, head swirling with more things than one. Could it be a dream? Where were you? How were you here? If you opened up your eyes, would you be able to see? "She was absolutle... Beauty! A perfect girl rivaling those of the anime girls in Doki Doki Daisuke. It was as if God answered my prayers and brought her to life in front of me. That's who she is to me -perfect as the day I met her... Before she met mean girls like Nicole. And, before she allowed you to defile her."

"Fuck," Cody screeched. "What the hell are you talking about!? We were dating before that whore, Nicole!" Who are you talking to?

Cody? I'm scared. I can't... get out of my own head.

His voice continued. "Look man, she was never going to be with you. We started going steady in high school. You were some bizarre loser, a complete neet, who got assigned as her lab partner. For fuck sake, she would've ignored you still without me or her friends. You are just a nuisance who can't take no for an answer! Is this your final attempt to get her to look at you!? Huh... HUH!? Well? Is it working? Does she see you now? Fuck no -she's unconscious! Guess who you're talking to? ME!!!"

Fingers carded over your scalp, itching at your crown. You tingled all over, and the coldest breath ghosted over your cheeks. "I would treat her better. I would put her on a pedestal that rivals Yuno Gasai, whom I believe to be the sluttiest and most desirable anime girl."

Was that voice Jeffery? You managed to whine at that, and you were promptly shushed -consoled like a child.

"She's like this because of you. You're supposed to protect her. What boyfriend allows his girlfriend to get this drugged out."

Silence.

Cody? Are you still there? Like actually, there? I don't understand. Why is this happening? What even is happening to me?

After a while, your boyfriend tsked, "She's a fucking addict, and it is hot as shit. Imagine what a drugged-up slut would do to please you."

Pause.

"Besides, You aren't at all above it. Don't act like you're better than me. Ain't it true that you roofie bitches? Hehe, now you're coming after my druggie girlfriend. Some SHIT!!"

"Y'a know, you talk too much," Jeffery whispered. And you found the strength within yourself to peel your eyes open. You were home. The few nicknacks you displayed glared into your retinas. Once, twice, it felt unbearable to blink. Your gaze started at the carpet, swooping to the left then the right, along the walls, and down to center

Your boyfriend's stared back at you. Then came the...

Screams.

You hadn't comprehended the missing beats of Cody's responses until then. In that state of limbo, words tied together rhythmically. Now, each plea and wail came out differently past battered lips. He begged you to run through swollen tongues and lips.

Each pause was a catch of breath. Cody's chest rose and fell in quick succession. His face was bloodied. Swirled vermillion, slathered by a pair of hands. Where the original wound is, you couldn't tell. It was all over the place. Ropes circled his chest, soaking up red, and kept him strapped to a wooden dining chair.

"Co-" You sputtered. You couldn't stop the onslaught of coughs that inched its way up your throat. Before you could say anything more, Jeffery's palm smashed against your mouth. He finally gained your attention, all while waving a knife around.

"My darling sweetheart," Jeffery cooed with adoration. "I'll handle the trash. Go back to sleep. I was just about to silence him."

You wanted to vomit. You hoped that the acidity would transport you to a reality where you were kneeling over a toilet. Or a bush, fuck it. It could be anywhere than this. You'll take on hang-over Central despite any day over this. You'll say fuck drugs and then by next week, you're on it again.

You just couldn't stay away from Percs and Robo.

Jeffery's appearance was disheveled, a stark contrast from what you were accustomed to. His hair was overgrown and unkempt with inky strands that poked from every angle. It was utterly impossible to look away. His crazed eyes darted across your face, searching within you for something you weren't sure you had to offer.

He turned from you, speaking to Cody. "Stop screaming! I'll gut you if you interfere."

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

** Choice ** Figure out what's next, or miss part 2, bitch. * click *

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

Thank you for reading! Request rules are here! Follow my ig = lil.thoughts.xo! Part Two, Part Three

Due to the nature of the game, I tried writing differently than what I consider normal. But I had so much fun writing for this fandom. Can't wait to do it again.

[stvrlightgirl]

✧˖°. So caught up in you ✧˖°.

part one

part two ←

summary: Running into your new daughter’s teacher in the school hallway was a real surprise, and you can't help but feel certain feelings towards him. It’s a good thing, that you two seem to feel the same way about your little meeting.

pairing: primary school teacher!remus lupin x single mom f!reader

warnings: Reader’s daughter has her own name (Molly), fluff

wc:1,2k

a/n: I don’t know if it’ll be a series, but seeing how my previous post blewed up, it gave me motivation to finish this small shot.

Reblogs and comments are always welcome!

Enjoy!

„There will be a new teacher in school, mommy and he’s going to replace Mrs. Smith!” Molly told you one day when you were picking her up from school. Her little tiny hand swayed in yours as you made your way through the crowded hallway.

You smiled, sensing excitement in her voice. She always loved to meet new people. It was something she inherited certainly not from you.

„Oh, yeah, I remember. are you excited, bug?” You squeezed her hand affectionately, pushing the exit door with your other hand. The gentle wind blew against your face as you fished out the car keys from your trench coat.

„Yeah!” She nodded eagerly „I will miss Mrs. Smith tho, she was my favourite” her voice suddenly saddened. You smiled down at her, feeling a tug at your heart. Molly's attachment to her teacher was something that you were well aware of. She was just great with kids, always happy to see them. It was sad that she retired so soon.

“I know,” you replied softly as you unlocked the car and helped Molly into the backseat. “You'll miss her, but it's okay to feel that way.” You buckled her seat and reached with your hand to gently caress her little cheekbone. “I think that the new teacher will be super cool too.” You gave her forehead little kiss, and she giggled when your lips touched her face.

You walked around to the driver's side, settling into your seat and starting the car. The heater kicked in, chasing away the chill of the cool autumn afternoon. You took off your leather gloves to rub your hands together, seeking some warmth.

“What do you hope your new teacher will be like?” You spoke again after a moment of silence.

Molly pondered this for a moment, her tiny brow furrowed in thought. “I hope he’s nice like Mrs. Smith.” She said finally. “And funny. And smart.” She started counting on her fingers.

You chuckled softly, pulling out of the parking spot and making your way down the street. “Yeah, these are some good traits.” you agreed.

Molly continued to chatter away in the backseat, her voice still full of excitement. "What do you think he will look like, mommy?" she asked, her head popping up from the backseat.

You couldn't help but smile. Clearly, she was getting excited about the new situation. "Well, I can't say for sure, honey. We'll have to wait and find out." You gave her another smile from the rear view.

And he turned out great. Even better than you thought he would. A week later, when you were waiting for her in the school hallway, you watched in anticipation as the classroom door opened, and Molly came running out with a huge grin plastered on her face. Her eyes were sparkling with excitement as she made her way to you. As she got closer, you could see that her little cheeks were flushed pink, and her breathing was a bit ragged with the exertion of her run. When she finally reached you, she wrapped her tiny arms around your legs in a tight hug.

"Mom! You won't believe how great Mr. Lupin is!” she exclaimed, looking up at you with big, shining eyes. Her little hand found yours, and squeezed, while jumping around.

The hallway became full within a seconds, creating a chaotic scene, filled with bustling parents and swarms of excited children hurrying towards the school entrance.

You turned around, still holding Molly's hand, when the sound of the door closing behind you caught your attention. As you glanced over, you saw someone who you assumed was Mr. Lupin standing there, locking up the classroom. His eyes suddenly met yours and your breath hitched. There was an intensity in his gaze that drew you in, making you feel a strange pull.

Before you could react further, Molly's voice shattered the moment. "Mom, that's him!" she exclaimed, her voice full of excitement. "That's Mr. Lupin!"

He looked down at Molly, a smile lighting up his face as he recognized her. "Ah, if it isn't our little chatterbox," he said, his voice warm and friendly, and as he took step closer, you could now see him better.

"You even got a sticker, did you show your mommy?" He pointed to her jean jacket, before his eyes slowly traveled up to you, meeting your gaze once again.

And you felt a strange, almost electric connection. It was as if a thousand tiny lightning bolts had passed through your body in that moment, leaving you feeling both startled and yet strangely drawn to him. He was a handsome man, you couldn’t deny it even if you wanted. His hair was slightly messy, falling in soft, brown locks across his forehead. Those intense chocolate eyes framed by thick eyelashes stared right into yours, and you couldn’t help but notice the sharp, yet boyish, cut of his jaw. Even his outfit, a simple blue sweater and jeans, seemed to look better on him than on anyone else.

The strange connection between you and him was snapped out of by Molly, who with all the enthusiasm a child can have, showed off a sticker that was proudly attached to her denim jacket. The words "Rock Star" were written on it, and she looked up at you with a huge smile on her face, clearly proud of her accomplishment.

The atmosphere felt charged, filled with a magnetic energy, but you managed to collect yourself, plastering a smile on your face as you responded to her.

"That is indeed very cool, sweetheart," you said, ruffling her hair affectionately. “I’m sorry.” You chuckled looking back at him. “She can be a lot on a daily basis. I can’t imagine a classroom full of little kids like her.”

He chuckled softly, his gaze never leaving yours. "It's alright. To be honest, she's an absolute angel compared to the others, but don’t tell them that.” He winked at you, a playful smile danced on his lips.

“That’s good to hear then.” You offered him a slight smile as you held Molly close, sensing that she was growing weary and more clingy. She always become like that when she was tired. A school bell saved you from the awkwardness between two of you, because when it ranged, Mr. Lupin gave you an apologetic smile, glancing up at the source of the noise.

As the hallway cleared out, leaving behind only two of you, he broke the silence with a gentle cough, his voice a soft whisper. "Duty calls," he said, a hint of regret in his tone. "I must prepare for my next class," he continued, his smile tinged with a hint of sheepishness. "And I'd hate to keep you any longer."

She clearly knew the bell was an excuse for him to get away from the slight tension that had hung in the air between you two, but you couldn’t help but feel a pang of disappointment that your conversation was being cut short.

You chuckled, nodding your head in agreement. "Yeah, I'd better get going as well," you said as you held onto Molly's shoulder, feeling her weight leaning into you due to her increasing tiredness. "I need to feed this gremlin before she falls asleep on me." You ruffled her blonde hair.

He smiled warmly, casting a glance down at Molly who was clinging to you. "Yeah, I can see," he said, his voice soft and pleasant. "It was nice to meet you. By the way, don't forget to attend the class meeting this week!”

“Oh yeah, absolutely.” You giggled nervously. “I’ll be there.”

He gave you a final nod, taking another step away. Then, with a small wave, he turned and walked away, his figure slowly disappearing from sight as he rounded the corner.

And you saw that before he disappeared from the view, how he casted one final glance over his shoulder, his gaze meeting yours. A subtle, gentle smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he took in the sight of you and Molly last time.

You let out a sigh, feeling the tension finally starting to melt away from your shoulders. It took you a few moments to calm down and regain your composure, but when you were back in the game mentally, you felt that warm blush still coloring your cheeks.

What a strange conversation.

“I told you, he’s awesome” Molly whispered, looking up at you, with her big, but tired eyes, while you still couldn’t move your legs from a slight shock.

Oh, you were so fucked.

part two ←

[thelov3lybookworm]

Fussy Nights

Summary: Amelia is grumpy

•○●⛦●○•

A/n: just a silly lil drabble for the love of my life, fire of my loins, the anon from @daycourtofficial's blog 🥹

(dividers by @tsunami-of-tears ❣️)

anyways, enjoyy!

Eris had always been a light sleeper. Even the slightest of sounds would have him jolt awake, scared out of his mind.

That was until he met Y/n, after his fathers death.

It had been over months since Eris had taken up the role of a high lord, but still, he would always keep looking behind his back, under his bed and in his closet for the ghost of Beron. His booming voice still echoed in Eris’s ears almost everyday, and every night, his father visited him in his sleep. Which was also one of the reasons Eris had stopped trying to even fall asleep without the help of heavy sedatives.

But then Y/n walked into his life, smiled at him, and turned him into a fool in love. He stopped thinking about his father as often, stopped staying awake to the haunting of his fathers ghost. Instead now, he stayed up wondering how to make Y/n laugh, wondering how she would look laying next to him, how she would look standing in front of him in a wedding gown. Fantasising about having his own family one day.

And once the two had gotten married, Eris had slept like a deity buried for years, only to wake up to the sweet, honeyed sound of his mate’s voice coaxing him gently out of sleep.

Or the screaming of his daughter, of course.

Which is what jolted him out of his sleep.

Eris shot up, his heart thumping heavily in his heart before he realised that no one was in danger, and that it was just his daughter who probably wanted some attention in the middle of the night calling for her parents.

He glanced at Y/n to find her peacefully passed out, and he smiled, leaning down to press a quick kiss to her brow before he got up, shivering slightly as the chill night air coiled around his shirtless torso.

As he hurried to the crib a few feet away from the bed, he willed his body to warm up and repel the crisp coldness of the autumn night.

Amelia had stopped crying when Eris finally reached her, likely having felt him. She lay on her back, her eyes wide open and filled with tears, her lips jutting out in a pout.

"What happened, princess? Did you miss daddy?"

She sniffled, staring straight at Eris as she made grabby hands at Eris, and he laughed, leaning down to pick her up. He placed her against his chest, wrapping his arms firmly around her little body as he turned. He rocked in place for some time, waiting to see if she would go back to sleep, but when she continued fussing, he turned towards the door.

"Come, let us go out to check up on the hounds. Mommy will wake up if we make too much noise here."

"Eris?"

He groaned inwardly. So much for not waking up mommy.

"Yes, sweetheart?"

"What are you doing?"

He turned to find her half sitting, staring at him with furrowed brows.

"Nothing, my love. Lia was just fussing a little, so I thought I might take her to see the hounds for a little."

She sighed. "It’s cold outside, Eris. She will get sick. Bring her here."

Eris nodded, walking back and handing Amelia to Y/n. He watched as she tried to calm down their daughter, settling down next to Y/n’s legs as Lia started to feed.

"She was just hungry?"

Y/n nodded, yawning as she moved to get comfortable. "It’s been a few hours since she last fed."

Eris hummed, grabbing one of Y/n’s legs unconsciously and starting to rub soft circles.

It was a few moments before Y/n spoke up again.

"You don’t have to do that, my love." Her voice was soft, gentle.

Eris smiled, rolling his eyes. "Mhmm."

She let out a soft laugh at that.

"I think she’s full."

Eris glanced up as Y/n covered herself up again, leaning forward to take a drowsy Amelia from his mate. "I’ll burp her then?"

Y/n nodded, yawning again as she settled into bed.

"Good night, Y/n."

Y/n hummed, patting the space next to her. "Come, let her stay."

"Are you sure?" Eris mumbled, though he had already begun to climb under the covers, his arms wrapped carefully around Amelia.

"Of course."

Y/n and Amelia were both passed out before Eris could even get comfortable, and he grinned, staring at both his girls, looking so peaceful next to each other.

As he drifted off himself, he could not help but thank the mother for gifting him such precious beings.

Acotar Taglist: @bubybubsters @eos-princess @nightless @harrystylesfan2686

@cassie6392 @kennedy-brooke @tele86 @miluiel1 @hnyclover

@minnieoo @sidrapotter @piceous21 @mybestfriendmademe

@saltedcoffeescotch @eve175 @starsinyourseyes @starswholistenanddreamsanswered

@cumuluscranium @byyalady @lilah-asteria @girlswithimagination

@gardenofrunar @girlswithimagination @sunnyspycat @artists-ally

@milswrites @riddlesb1tch @berryzxx @buttermilktea11

Eris Vanserra Taglist: @fell-in-luvs @azrielsmate3 @tele86 @caraaaaugh

@ysmtttty @secret-third-thing

[strawbeerossi]

Hot Wax

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid

Description: After an accidental spill with your wax melts, Spencer discovers something very new about himself.

Content/Warnings: There's some cursing cause duh, wax play, soft dom!reader, sub!Spencer, unprotected sex.

Word Count: 1.5K

Kinktober Day Four: Wax Play

Navigation || Kinktober Masterlist || AO3

It was an accidental discovery, one that you were honestly shocked to find out. You’d gotten new wax melts for the impending autumn season, the smell of vanilla pumpkin had filled the apartment after a few days, getting ready to get the wax changed out when your boyfriend was coming home from work. “Spence!” You offered a wide smile, the heated plate now being picked up with ease as you were walking to the kitchen to clean it out. 

However you managed to trip over your own two feet. With a groan echoing through the living room, you realized you’d just thrown hot wax at your partner’s chest.

“Oh my god! Spencer, I’m so sorry!” You’d panicked. What if you gave him severe burns? Well.. The wax wasn’t that hot but it didn’t stop you from stressing that you’d managed to melt his skin off. The mere thought of hurting him made you feel like human garbage.

However what wasn’t mentioned was the tent in Spencer’s pants, the man quickly waving off your many apologies. “Honey, it’s okay. It was an accident.” He spoke, his cheeks flushed because of the blood going straight downstairs. Did he really just pop a boner because I splashed him with wax? 

The conversation wasn’t had until a few weeks later, Spencer coming home from a case along with a gift. You were in bed when he walked in, a purple gift bag in his hands. Your eyebrow raised as you glanced up from your book. “Is that a present?” You didn’t miss an anniversary and you knew for sure that it wasn’t your birthday. “Uh, yeah. I wanted to talk to you about something.” 

A present and a serious talk. Was he breaking up with you and letting you down easily? 

“Don’t look at me like that.” Spencer rushed out when he noticed a falter in the confused look on your face. “It’s not bad but.. I figured it wouldn’t hurt to talk about it.” He spoke while moving to sit on the edge of the bed while pulling out the candle. “Spence, you know I don’t burn candles..” You frowned.

“I do, but this is a, uh, special candle.” The words were soft, embarrassment setting in. What if you told him he was weird? That wax was something that you didn’t want to delve into? The idea made him regret even doing this. 

You were confused while reaching out for the candle, looking over the label. It wasn’t something you’d expected from Bath and Body Works. It was labeled as a massage candle. “What is this for?” You’d had a sneaking suspicion, however you wanted to hear him say it. “W-well, its paraffin wax. Did you know it’s actually moisturizing on the skin? It’s said that it can make skin more soft. And uh, it’s.. Very popular for sexual play with wax because it’s safe for skin.”

Sexual wax play.

“So you want me to pour this on you?” You were amused by how flustered Spencer was at the discussion, his hands moving to loosen his tie as he nodded sheepishly. “Y-yeah. I would like to try it.” He admitted, keeping a hand on his tie while he watched your movements carefully.

You unscrewed the lid, slowly moving to open the candle in your hands before bringing it up to your nose to smell it. There was no smell, which was a little disappointing, but hey, there are surely other special candles with nice smells out there. “It’s odorless.” Spencer breathed, stating what you’d already learned.

“Can you do me a favor? I have a box of matches in the kitchen drawer, would you mind-” Before you could even finish, he was rushing out of the bedroom to retrieve the items that you required to start this fantasy off right. 

Once he was back in the bedroom with the box, Spencer offered a smile as he was holding them out in your direction, already feeling his heart thudding with anticipation as the candle was lit and set on the nightstand on your side of the bed. “While we wait for it to heat up, get undressed.” You commanded, which his hands worked quickly to undo his tie before clumsily getting out of his clothes. With his work attire thrown in the room, he was stuck in his white briefs. “Come on, silly.” You spoke, opening your arms for him while grinning as he was falling into your arms, your lips almost immediately smashing against his.

The idea of trying something new was exciting. You wouldn’t say that your shared sex life was lacking, on the contrary. It was amazing. The both of you focused on taking care of one another and showering one another in physical affection and intimacy. You took charge a good majority of the time, Spencer being more of a service submissive.

You’d straddled his waist, his hard cock pressed against your clothed ass as you were reaching over to grab the candle from your bedside table. “Ready?” You asked, watching his head nod. “You know better than that.” You spoke while raising an eyebrow. “Let me hear you say that you’re ready or we aren't doing this.” 

“Yes! I’m ready. Please pour it on me.” His breath was shaky as he let his hands rest gently against your waist. The minute you tilted the candle, you watched the steady downpour of white wax now make contact with Spencer’s flushed skin. There was a hiss of pleasure coming from your partner. His gaze focused on the wax pool that was quickly drying on his skin. “Feel good?” You asked, watching his head nod slowly. “Y-yeah. Fuck.” The profanity made you decide on pouring more. 

This time, you let your hand sit in the warm wax while dragging your hand up his torso. The trail moved fluidly in your hand; the heat spreading to Spencer’s chest as he was whining for more. 

You were placing the candle down briefly, much to his dismay. “Gonna ride you while I do this.” You murmured, now lifting your hips to tug your sleep shorts down your legs. You were aching for relief, the idea of pouring hot wax on your partner doing enough to make you crave more than Spencer’s hips rutting against you from below. As you’d gotten your underwear and shorts tossed somewhere in the room, you were straddling his waist once more. 

His cock was wet by the amount of precum bubbling over the thick head of his shaft, red and angry for more attention. “Fuck, baby. You really like the wax, don’t you?” You breathe, hand wrapping around his cock while giving it a few tugs. It helped with spreading the helpful substance over the skin, working as lube for an easier time. “Fuck, fuck.” The male whined from his spot, head thrown back. He already looked so fucked out and you both had barely done anything.

Why didn’t you throw wax on him sooner?

After getting your knees settled on either side of his hips, you aligned yourself with his hardened shaft before lowering yourself down with a moan, head tilting back as your sex was swallowing every inch that Spencer offered you. As your hips rolled down into his, your body leaned to the side to take the candle back into your hands, lip between your teeth as you let the stream pour on his chest now, watching the way the wax was clinging to the light hair littering his chest, almost reminiscent of cum accenting his skin. 

His hips roughly snapped upwards, catching you by surprise as you bounced upon the impact. You were continuing the onslaught of dousing his body in the hot wax that was sticking onto his skin. “Fuck, Spence. Keep fucking me like that.” You squeaked, his hips continuing to piston into your body, impaling you in the best way possible as you continued glazing his upper body with the candle wax.

“I’m gonna cum! Oh, my god. I’m gonna cum.” He groaned deeply while letting his head tilted back, cock twitching inside of your warmth as he gave a few sloppy thrusts before he was hitting his high. The warm gush of cum inside of you was enough to prompt your own orgasm, both of you groaning and moaning together while Spencer kept a bruising grip on your body. 

As you’d both came down from your highs and you blew out the candle, it was back in its place on the nightstand. “God, that was amazing.” You breathed, body lifting from his while you fell onto your back on the bed below you both.

Spencer was quiet for a good while, chest rising and falling from the powerful orgasm he was swimming in. “Anything else we have around the house that you can throw on me?” He questioned, teasing you while he let his head tilt to the side while you laughed, moving to press a kiss against his lips. 

“We’ll figure it out.”