#i can’t get swept away by this…i do not have the time to write it

[mushroom-words]

Intertwining Souls || Poly!WolfStar

Fandom: Harry Potter (Marauders)

Pairing: Remus Lupin x Fem!Reader x Sirius Black

Words: 2054

Notes: As usual, I will fix the formatting once I get on my laptop. And I’d like to thank the lovely @daydreamandforget for not only finding amusement in the boys’ pesky little flea problem in my other work Pest Control but for also inspiring me to explore it a little bit more. Also, if anyone has any ideas or requests for this particular pairing, please feel free to drop them by me. I love Poly!WolfStar with my entire being but have been dreadfully unsuccessful in thinking of situations to write about.

Warnings: Light dom/sub elements. Pet names. Dom!Remus & switch!Sirius if you squint. Reader is referred to as a girl with she/her pronouns but all other descriptions are neutral. Polyamorous relationship (if that wasn’t already clear).

Summary: You’ve been neglecting your sleep to take care of everyone else. Just when Remus is finally able to care for you instead, Sirius tracks in a bigger problem.

YOU WERE READY to fall asleep right where you were. It was all very lulling—the crackling of the fireplace a few feet away, the scent of cinnamon and sandalwood, the gentle brush of his fingers against your temple, and the cadence of his voice reading aloud to you. Your eyes drifted closed as you let yourself be blanketed in the warm environment.

The last week was particularly draining for you. Between your duties with work and the Order, and caring for Remus through the lunar cycle, you were running on fumes. Your boyfriends were absolutely lovely when it came to helping you through the stress and exhaustion, but it was that certain type of fatigue that could only be nurtured away with time and patience.

Remus paused to check in when he felt your breathing even out. He smiled softly and swept some hair behind your ear to get a better look at your face. The worry lines had smoothed out, lashes delicately brushing your cheekbones, muted breaths pushing past your marginally parted lips as you slipped deeper into sleep.

He debated for a moment whether to let you rest a bit longer in his lap or risk waking you by carrying you to bed. He was just about to put his book down when the front door was prodded open, a black snout nosing it open to make way for the large dog to come indoors. The animal nudged the door shut before shaking himself of the light downpour that had started not five minutes prior to his return.

Remus sighed quietly. “Must you always do that, Pads?” he complained, though a fond note softened the cross tone. “We’ve talked about this.”

Shifting back into human form, the Animagus merely grinned at his boyfriend’s annoyance. “Y’know I can’t help myself, Moons. ‘S in my nature.”

The other man rolled his eyes but let it go. He knew well that with Sirius Orion Black, it was wise to pick your battles—and this wasn’t one he wanted to rehash with you trying to catch up on some well-earned rest.

“Nice run?” he asked, moving his hand to trace his fingers along your arm.

“Definitely.” Sirius absently scratched his head and made his way over to the overstuffed sofa. His eyes drifted to you, adoration softening his jovial expression. “Aww, look at her. Ain’t she just adorable, Moony?” he cooed.

“She is,” Remus agreed, watching as you sighed softly and shifted. “Careful—don’t wake her,” he warned when Sirius reached for you. “She just fell asleep.”

“I’m not gonna wake her.” Sirius grazed his knuckles down the contour of your cheek. Despite his promise, your lashes fluttered at the touch.

You nuzzled against Remus’ legs before prying your eyes open, blinking through the haze to focus on your boyfriend. A sleepy smile notched on your face. “G’morning, Siri,” you mumbled.

Sirius chuckled and bent to kiss your forehead. “It’s late, bunny,” he said. “We should get you to bed.”

“No, no. ‘M awake.” You slowly pushed yourself up, still blinking the sleep from your eyes. The boys chuckled affectionately at your tired state.

“Dove,” Remus cooed, using an arm to bring you into his side, smiling when you melted into him. “You’re exhausted. Let’s get you in bed, yeah?”

You shook your head, dropping it to rest on his shoulder. “Wanna stay with you,” you argued. “‘M not sleepy anymore.”

“Liar,” Sirius crooned, scratching at his head a bit more intensely. He wasn’t even aware he was doing it, but it caught the attention of his partners.

Remus lifted a brow. “You okay, love?”

“Hmm?” Sirius snapped his gaze to him, pausing before lowering his hand. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m good, mate.”

You frowned slightly, vision clearing a bit more as you eyed your boyfriend. His fingers twitched across his thigh like he was fighting the urge to scratch, curling and unfurling in increments.

You lifted your head from your other boyfriend’s shoulder. “Siri?”

“What’s wrong, sweet girl?”

Your attention was stolen away from his cautious expression by a small dark speck that abruptly appeared on the sofa. All traces of lingering sleepiness bled from your system when that little fleck jumped away. A twinge of irritation replaced it, breathing acuity into your mind.

Remus’ forehead creased as he tracked the movement. He snapped his attention back to Sirius, studying the way he shifted on the sofa, his nails digging into his trousers as he resumed scratching at himself. His focus honed into another tiny dot crawling on the sleeve of his jumper.

You pinched your lips together. “You have fleas. Again.”

Sirius’ eyes rounded, gaze darting away from you warily. “Don’t be silly, bunny. What makes you say that?” he asked.

“Well, if that wasn’t enough,” Remus said, gesturing towards where he was wildly scratching at his leg, “this,” he continued, reaching forward to pluck the pest with the tips of his fingers, “is enough proof, if you ask me.”

The flea wiggled around in the clutches of his fingers before Remus promptly rolled it between his nails, popping the exoskeleton with precision. He raised his brows at his boyfriend expectantly.

Sirius spluttered for a moment, heat flushing his cheeks. “Well—that’s—how do you know it’s from me?” he argued. “The full moon was two nights ago—it could’ve come from you, y’know! Or—or maybe…”

He trailed off as he clocked the pointed looks from both of his partners, neither you nor Remus particularly amused.

“Okay, fine!” He threw his hands up in the air before scratching at his neck. “I have fleas! It’s to be expected from time to time!”

Remus sighed and stood from the sofa, grabbing the other man’s arm. “C’mon, love. We’re taking care of it before it gets worse.”

He hauled Sirius up and started dragging him towards the bathroom. You watched with mild amusement as Sirius blanched. His fingers grappled at the wall, finding purchase near the doorframe. So dramatic, you mused to yourself with a heavy roll of your eyes.

“We? No, thank you.” Sirius jerked back, causing Remus to halt as his purposeful stride was interrupted. “I can bathe myself, thank you very much.”

You groaned at his theatrics and rose from the sofa. “Not in your Animagus form, you can’t,” you reminded him.

“Well, I won’t bathe in my Animagus form then, will I?”

“Padfoot,” Remus said sternly, though not without an affectionate lilt, “you know the flea shampoo won’t work otherwise.”

Sirius looked back at you as you sidled up to their stalemate, eyes wide and imploring. “Bunny, please, I’m begging you—don’t let him do this to me.”

You leveled him with a dour look. “I’m already gonna have to treat the flat and Remmy again in the morning,” you told him. “Get in the bath—or you can sleep in the garden tonight and we’ll bathe you in the morning anyway.”

A dark look of hopeless betrayal flashed in his gaze. “I can’t believe this,” he pouted. “You two are being unfair.”

Remus rolled his eyes. “C’mon, Pads. Let’s get it over with,” he encouraged, tugging Sirius away from the doorframe. “Dove, why don’t you go on to bed? We’ll be in as soon as he’s defleaed.”

Normally you might insist on helping wrangle the uncooperative Animagus into the tub, but now that you’d have to wake up earlier in order to get the flat in order, you knew it was probably best that you rested for the night. So you nodded your head, covering your mouth just as a yawn broke through, like your body knew that Remus had declared your bedtime.

“Sure, yeah, go right on to bed,” Sirius grumbled. “Pay no mind to my suffering.”

You gave a tired smile. “Your suffering will end once you’re not being eaten alive,” you countered, knowing he always felt better after a flea bath despite how difficult it was to wrestle him into one. “G’night, Siri. Love you.”

“Yeah, yeah. Love you too, bunny.” He continued to moan but couldn’t ignore the wave of affection when you pressed your lips to his in a sweet kiss.

“Sweet dreams, dove.” Remus, maintaining a firm grip on your disgruntled boyfriend, swooped down to kiss you goodnight. “And don’t wait up for us. You need to get some rest,” he added a bit more austerely, giving your bottom a solicitous pat to send you on your way.

You shuffled to your bedroom, looking forward to snuggling beneath the duvet and letting the plush mattress lull you into sleep. But as you settled into the empty bed, you knew you wouldn’t be able to actually kip down without your boyfriends. So you just closed your eyes and listened to their scuffling while you waited.

“This is a cruel and unusual punishment. You’re a bloody sadist.”

“Oh, stop being so dramatic. It’ll be quick.”

“Why don’t you ever have to take flea baths?”

“Because they don’t make baths big enough for werewolves, Pads. Go on then.” A soft laugh interrupted the bickering. “No, kissing me won’t change my mind. Get in.”

“I’ll never forgive you for this.”

“You’ll live, I’m afraid.” A few seconds ticked by, followed by a teasing, “That’s a good boy.”

An indignant, grumbling bark was the response.

You huffed out a fond giggle and rolled over onto your side. Your eyelids felt heavy against your sockets, like you wouldn’t be able to reopen them even if you tried, but sleep evaded you just as you predicted. It was quite pathetic really—you’d become so accustomed to having at least one of your boys with you as you slept that it was nearly impossible to sleep without their warmth curled around you.

It was one of many silly little side effects of loving so deeply your souls intertwined. A love so deep that it completed you, spilling into the pits denting your heart and filling them to the brim and then some. You honestly hadn’t known you could love another person quite so much until the boys graciously showed you.

You’d lost track of time as you lied there mulling over the ridiculous way you continued to fawn over your partners like a schoolgirl with a crush. You were snapped back into reality by the low murmurs and footsteps entering the bedroom.

“You think she’s asleep?” Sirius whispered.

“Hopefully,” Remus replied quietly. “She’s been exhausted.”

“Sweet girl’s running herself ragged.”

Muted shuffling around the space told you they were dressing down for the night. Then, slowly, the bed dipped on either side of you as they finally joined you. Remus settled at your back, draping a gentle arm around your torso and pulling you into his chest, while Sirius crawled to lie facing you, slender fingers running through your hair tenderly.

You sighed contentedly and let a small smile give yourself away.

Remus clicked his tongue when you shifted back against him. “You’re supposed to be asleep, dove,” he whispered, planting a few tender kisses to the slope of your neck.

“‘M supposed to be a lot of things,” you murmured, tilting your head up when you felt Sirius’ fingers glide down your jaw, “but I live to disappoint.”

The boys seemed to move in sync, free hands drifting down to pinch your hip and thigh affectionately. “Oi,” Sirius chuckled quietly, “that’s my job, bunny.”

You hummed and cracked your eyes open, peering at him through your lashes. “Feel better, Siri?”

“I will when you get some sleep.” He shuffled closer, kissing you sweetly, starting with a few on the lips and then traveling to the tip of your nose and finally your forehead. His hand squeezed your hip, thumb tracing idle circles against the curve.

Remus’ lips touched the back of your head. “We all will,” he murmured, tightening his hold on you until you were trapped between your boys—not like you ever wanted to be anywhere else.

You smiled again, sleepily letting your eyes flutter closed once more. “I love you.”

Sirius sighed softly, minty breath ghosting across your face. “We love you too. G’night, pretty girl. G’night, Moons,” he said, stretching over you briefly to kiss the werewolf before settling back again.

“Pains in the arse, both of you,” Remus mumbled fondly, voice low with a sleepiness that lulled you into tranquility. “Now shut up and go to sleep.”

[the-woman-upstairs]

Firmly believe that if Ford had joined the Henchmaniacs, he and Pyronica would’ve instantly become besties. Ford finds out she’s a quantum physics genius who burned her city to the ground when she didn’t receive the proper appreciation she so rightfully deserved and is like “oh she’s just like me fr.” They would’ve been a “two queens maximizing their joint slay” dynamic for the ages.

[majestyeverlasting]

𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐚𝐲 | 𝐞.𝐦.

Pairing Eddie Munson x Fem Reader [friends -> lovers]

Summary: You and Eddie ditch the party of the semester to fall into something you both know is meant to be [fluff, 3k]

A/N This is just fun, fluff, and feels. Felt like a vibe while I was writing it. This fic is part 1 of 3.

The music vibrates through the floor so intensely that Eddie can feel it in his bones. Even in the sunroom where he and a few others have settled. The small space gives sight to the backyard, where people mingle as they smoke, illuminated by string lights combating the night’s darkness. Those inside the house with him chatter, sing, and toss their heads back in carefree laughter, feet shuffling against the hardwood as they dance.

The entire scene buzzes with the kind of life only Steve Harrington’s place could ignite on a Friday night. One of these days, he swore he was going to loosen up and allow himself to get swept up in it too. 

For now, he watches. Eyes flitting to various faces, but always returning to you. If you weren’t smiling, you were talking, and the way your lips formed around your words was just as beautiful. The two of you spoke briefly when he first arrived, and he could still feel the delighted hug you’d given him over the fact that he decided to come. He wondered what he’d have to do to make it go away, but good thing he didn’t mind the feeling. It was a reminder of how much he wished your nearness could be all his forever.

Longing was a peculiar thing. Selfish in its occupation of his entire being. 

As Eddie takes another small sip from his drink, something fruity spiked with vodka, The Hair himself saunters up in front of him in a pair of slacks and a Polo sweater. Though rather polished for the occasion, it manages to look fitting on him. His cheeks are a little flushed and the metalhead raises a curious brow as his friend stares down at him with a smirk. 

Rebel Yell starts pulsing through the stereo as Steve offers him a hand off the couch. They end up weaving their way out back. The fall air is cool, but not all of summer’s warmth has vanished. A few people wave and greet them as they head towards a pair of chaise lounge chairs. Billy Idol’s voice is muffled as it continues thrumming from inside. Grooving bodies are visible through the windows as the party carries on. 

Steve pulls out a fancy metal cigarette case before they sit, flipping it open with a soft click. Eddie can’t help but snort as he relaxes into the chair. 

Steve’s brows furrow as he slips out a joint and begins lighting it. “What?” 

Eddie nods to the case in Steve’s lap. “Rich people shit.” 

Steve takes the first couple puffs before passing the joint to Eddie. “Jealous?” 

A smile cracks Eddie's face before he takes a drag. The answer is no, he isn’t. Once upon a time, jealousy was all he burned with, even though he was Hawkin’s poster child for no fucks given and had every reason to be grateful he wasn’t worse off. Grateful for Wayne, that he wasn’t in the pen with his deadbeat father, for finally finding solid friends. He had more than he could ask for, and it took growing up to see it. 

Eddie tips his head back and blows smoke up into the night before giving Steve his turn. What he can’t see is that your eyes have fallen on him from inside the house, sparkling and curious as Robin grins by your side. 

“So did I save you back there or what?” Steve asks as he ashes the joint onto the ground. “Looked like you were zoning in and out, man.” There’s genuine curiosity in his gaze though his tone is playful. 

Growing up with parents like his, Steve had gotten good at reading people. They vacationed a lot, but still managed to walk around with arc reactors in their chests whenever they were home. Bound to detonate in the wake of the most trivial inconveniences. Sometimes he wished he could shut everyone and their feelings out, but he wouldn’t quite be himself then. 

Eddie runs his ringed fingers through his hair. “Just a bit overwhelmed.” 

Steve takes a thoughtful look around. “These kinda things can be a lot.” 

Not even half the faces outside belong to close friends. There was a magic to it, nevertheless. For a few hours, everyone could throw their worries to the wind as Hawkins, Indiana began to feel less like a nowhere town and more like the top of the world. Lord knows Steve didn’t mind the distraction. 

“Not my scene,” Eddie settles on saying. The joint has found its way back into his hand. 

“Everyone’s got their escape,” Steve says. “You’re just too evolved for this one.” 

Eddie snorts. “Shut up.” 

“Yet here you are in the flesh,” Steve continues, thinking as Eddie smokes. “You should tell her how you feel.” 

Eddie coughs, lowering the joint from between his lips. “Dude. Fuck.” 

Steve bites back a smirk as Eddie recovers, extending his hand for the joint. Eddie refuses, taking another drag out of spite, for himself or Steve he isn’t sure. A distant swell of giggles makes multiple heads turn towards the back door, where you and Robin file outside. There’s an immediate flutter in Eddie's gut as he takes you in, your skirt flowing at your thighs. It takes him a second to realize you two are headed their way. 

By the time you make it over, Eddie has straightened up. Meanwhile Steve remains unphased. “Ladies,” Steve greets.  

Robin wrinkles her glittery nose at him. “Why weren’t we invited out here?” 

Chuckling, he makes room for her on his chair and she plops down beside him. “‘Cause you hate the way weed makes you feel like you’re going insane.” He leans into her with each word until she pushes him away with a helpless laugh.

“It’s the principle,” she counters. 

Eddie motions for you to join him and you smile as you take a seat beside him, bumping your shoulder against his in a gentle hello. When he offers you the joint, you shake your head. Steve reaches for it yet again, but Eddie pretends not to notice, taking another drag. A small smile pulls at your lips. 

“Actually, I think I will take a hit.” Eddie doesn’t hesitate passing it to you. 

Rather than indulging, you hand it to Steve, who laughs in victory. Eddie shakes his head, feigning betrayal in a way that earns a laugh out of you. It’s a sweet, melodic sound. He tries to ignore the way your thigh feels pressed against his, but it’s in vain. Even the vanilla notes of your perfume manage to cloud his mind in the softest way. No matter where he was, if you were near, he would always be painfully aware of your presence. 

It was your invitation that had driven him to this party in the first place. Although Steve’s invite came first, your insistence made him change his mind and say yes. Sweaty bodies and blaring music wasn’t your ideal scene either, but you gave in from time to time and looked good doing so. Earlier that night, Eddie almost hadn’t made it through Dancing In the Dark as you and Robin swayed and jumped around like you were alone in your room. There was something about the freeness of the way you moved that made it hard to look away. 

“Munson’s been meaning to tell you something,” Steve announces, looking straight at you.

Eddie’s heart drops into his stomach as he glares at Steve. Robin glances between the two of them, brows furrowed as amusement plays on her lips. You hug your arms as a cool breeze rolls through, but you’re more interested in what Eddie has to say than escaping the chill. In meeting your gaze, however, he silently begs you not to entertain the claim. It only piques your curiosity all the more. 

“Are you gonna spill or what?” Robin prompts.

“There’s nothing to spill,” Eddie insists, looking down to twist his skull ring. 

Reaching over into his lap, you gingerly take his hand into yours to slip off that very ring. He doesn’t pull away or argue, just watches as a helplessly warm feeling melts down his ribcage. His lips twitch upwards when you put it on your thumb because it’s the only finger big enough. It’s warm from being against his own skin for so long. Robin and Steve share a brief, knowing look.

“Speak now or forever hold your peace.” There’s hope woven within the lilt of your voice. Eddie chuckles, and you commit the breathy sound to memory as if you’ll need it one day more than you do now. 

Robin slaps her hands against her knees. “Well, it’s getting kinda chilly out here so I’m gonna head back inside,” she says, rubbing her arms as she stands. 

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” you tease. 

“I’ll stick to something tame like snooping around in Harrington’s room,” she says as she turns to leave. Steve rolls his eyes.

A comfortable silence settles between the three of you. However, his brows eventually pinch together as he reconsiders Robin’s words. Taking one last drag, he passes the joint back to Eddie.   

“She was joking, Steve,” you assure him, chuckling. 

“No she wasn’t,” he worries as he stands to jog back into the house. Eddie snickers. 

With a soft sigh, you lean back onto your hands, looking towards the sky as silence falls again. There are a few clouds visible in the light of the crescent moon, but the stars are everywhere. Like tiny shining freckles peppered against the face of the night. Part of you wonders if he’ll talk now. 

“What if the stars have been watching us back our entire lives?” you murmur. 

Eddie’s brows pinch together as he looks over at you, chest rattling with a startled laugh. “That’s something to think about.” His eyes are a bit glossier now. “Don’t think I’d mind if that were true.” 

You tilt your head, a smile budding on your face. “You wouldn’t mind billions of little eyes observing your day-to-day life?” you ask. “That’s a pretty big audience.” 

A grin eases across his face, half playful, half cocky. “I’m a pretty interesting guy.”

You lift a teasing shoulder, feigning indifference. “You’re alright.” 

Eddie laughs, but a weighted look flickers in his eyes as he studies you, catching the fondness you hadn’t tried all that hard to hide. Even with the pleasant buzz beneath his skin and somewhat of a looser mind, he can see it clearly. 

“Hey,” you speak up again. There’s a new softness to your voice, something mischievous dancing around the edges. “Wanna get outta here?” 

Eddie blinks like he can’t quite believe you’ve asked, but finds himself saying yes anyways.

••• 

Sitting in the passenger seat in his van, you realize you didn’t think much further than this. The air smells like him in all the best ways. Pinewood and faint cigarette smoke. As the engine rumbles to life, you shift in your seat and peek over at him, your confidence a distant memory. The radio bursts to life as well, but he quickly reaches out to turn it down. You bite back a smile at the fact that his skull ring is missing from his finger because it’s on yours. Eddie settles in with a sigh, turning to you. 

“So,” he says, eyes sparkling and a little red under the glow of the street lights. 

There’s an intensity to the warmth of his gaze. It drives you to hide your face in your hands. Which does nothing to make him disappear, if the way he exhales a chuckle is any indicator. “Stop looking at me, I didn’t think this far ahead.” There’s no real distress in your voice, only giddiness mixed with nerves. 

“Now I feel like an idiot,” you whine. 

“Well, you’re not.” He sounds more sincere than the moment calls for. “And I don’t think I’m gonna be able to stop looking at you, so I guess we’re both in a pickle.” 

“A pickle?” You snort, lowering your hands to meet his gaze. More laughter escapes you. Maybe it’s your body's way of not having to address the implication of his words. 

There’s a flutter in his gut as he watches you. It’s like old times, back when you were freshmen who stayed up too late laughing over the most ridiculous things. Except now, you were more than the girl who sat beside him in Biology because you thought it was cool he had a tattoo. You’d grown into a friend, perhaps even more. As composure finds its way back to you, that truth weighs heavy in the small distance between you.  

Eddie clears his throat. “We could hang at mine for a bit. Wayne’s at work.” When you don’t say anything, he bites the inside of his cheek. “It’s up to you.”  

“Sorry, yeah, that sounds good,” you breathe. 

Eddie gears the van into drive, only to put it back in park with a heavy exhale. You blink when angles himself to look at you, opening his mouth a few times before speaking. 

“There is something I need to tell you,” he admits. “No way in hell did I ever think we’d be friends, but you’re the raddest person I’ve ever met.” A lump forms in your throat as his words wash over you. “And you’re so pretty that sometimes I wonder how every guy in the world isn’t giving you whatever you want all the time.” 

You can hear your heart in your ears as you say, “Maybe that’s ‘cause there’s only one guy I want in the world.” 

•••

A small sound of surprise rises up your throat when Eddie backs you against his bedroom door. His apology is hushed against your lips as he continues kissing you, hands gentle where they grip at your waist, feeling along your sides. You’re warm all over as if you’re laid out before the sun, arms hooked around his neck. It hadn’t occurred to him how much he wanted to kiss you until you looked at his alarm clock and realized that it’d probably be best if he drove you home. It was well past midnight. Time had escaped you as you talked and laughed. 

When he does pull away, he studies your face like he’s looking for something. A few seconds pass, and he still doesn’t know what for. Perhaps your smile as it shyly appears. You move your hands to cup his face, thumbs stroking his flushed cheeks. You’ve never been close enough to notice he has the faintest freckles over the bridge of his nose. It almost feels like you’re getting a glimpse at sacred markings you’re not supposed to see. 

Eddie remembers to breathe when you peck his lips again, running your fingers through his hair. His breath is startled out of him, more like. It’s a wonder his knees haven’t buckled beneath him. He wants to kiss you again to see if that’ll finally knock him back down to earth, but instead he exhales the softest sigh over your lips, squeezing your hips to confirm you’re real. He’s not expecting the sense of guilt that creeps up on him. 

Your brows pinch together. “What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing. I just… I haven’t taken you on a date or bought you flowers.” He swallows. “I swear you’re worth all that, swear I’m gonna.” 

You gently scratch his scalp. “That’s nothing to worry yourself over.” 

Eddie shakes his head. “Don’t want you to feel like I’m just trying to come onto you,” he says. “I like you a lot—”  

“If it’s any consolation, I’ve been wanting to kiss you forever too.” Your voice sounds braver than you feel. 

A smile breaks across his face as he rests his forehead against yours. “Well, that’s maddening news.” 

Humming, you kiss him again, delicately running your tongue along his lips so he shivers. “Where are we gonna go?” you breathe, clarifying when he makes a soft, confused sound, “For our first date.” With the way you continue kissing him, he assumes you don’t really want an answer, that you’re trying to drive him crazy on purpose. 

His mind changes when you gently push his chest so he knows to pull away. He listens immediately, eyes dazed. 

“Maybe the arcade,” you supply, toying with the hem of his shirt. “Or a picnic by the lake.” Your hands slip under his shirt, gracing the skin of his lower stomach, your touch sending a rush of heat through him faster than any high ever could. 

You’re not trying to be suggestive, it’s more exploratory. A shared thrill in finally being able to touch him how you’ve wanted for so long. Eddie’s hands remain at your waist, grounding him even as he feels his resolve starting to slip. 

As much as he wants to indulge a step further, maybe even several, he holds himself back. It might be old-fashioned, but he wants to do this right, do a bit of course correction. He can almost hear Uncle Wayne’s voice from those lazy afternoons of his younger years, talking about life and how to treat a lady. 

“Next Friday,” he says, staring into your eyes intently. “It’ll be nice. I’ll surprise you,” he promises, taking your hands in his, relishing their softness, their warmth. His skull ring is still on your thumb. 

“Really?” Your smile is unabashed. 

He nods, a grin creeping onto his face. “It’s a date.” 

-

Thank you so much for reading! Feel free to let me know what you think. 

Turn on notifications for @taleseverlasting so you don’t miss the next one.

NEXT PART (18+)

MORE

[tbaluver]

hiii!! i've been reading your works for a while and im IN LOVE with your writing <33 thank you for all the effort you put into your content! may i ask what are your HCs for the LIs with a very short partner?? i'm 4'11'' and i have a real hard time imagining how they would deal with an astronomical height difference (they are all giraffes omg😭) thank you again for everything you do for us! feel free to refuse if you're uncomfortable with the request, i hope you have a wonderful day and please don't forget to take care of yourself 💕

When You're Short- The Love And DeepSpace Men

parings in order: Xavier x Reader, Zayne x Reader, Rafayel x Reader, Sylus x Reader, Caleb x Reader genre/ tags: fluff fluff + silly a/n: hihi anonnie ! ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡ PLS YOURE SO SWEET thank you so much my sweet angel and thank you for recognizing the effort i put into my writing MWAH MWAH (ෆ˙ᵕ˙ෆ)♡ i hope i did this justice bc im around..5'4 ? so im short as well when i compare my height with them (╭ರ_•́) i hope you're having an amazing day anonnie and dont forget to take care of yourself as well ! MWAHH enjoy reading !(ෆ˙ᵕ˙ෆ)♡

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Xavier:

Oh you’re so adorable to him. He knows what you're capable of but he can't help but feel even more protective around you.

You’re like a fun size plushie that he can just cuddle with all day and night. He loves holding you in his arms because you just fit perfectly. If he could, he would shrink you just so he can keep you in his little pocket and have you travel around with him all day. Sometimes he'll use you as a pillow to rest his chin on your head while the two of you take a nap together.

He loves to rest his head on your lap whenever you’re sitting up, just so he can look up and admire your pretty face.

Whenever you two play video games or watch movies together, he loves pulling you into his lap, his chin resting gently on top of your head as his arms wrap around you

If you want to kiss him, you’ll have to tug on his clothing to give him a hint and usually he’ll lower himself for the kiss but sometimes he teases you, pretending not to understand your intentions. “Hm? What is it? Do you need anything?” He asks, feigning innocence as he watches you pout. Although knowing him, he can’t resist any longer. He leans down pressing a soft kiss to your lips as if he didn’t already know what exactly what you wanted

Whenever you two are out, Xavier always keeps his arm slinging around your waist, pulling you close. He’ll hold your hand firmly whenever you’re walking together, making sure you’re never swept away by the crowd.

Zayne:

Whether or not you two live together, he’ll make sure to install mirrors at your height and place your favorite snacks, utensils, and anything you might need on lower shelves or in drawers so you don’t have to bother getting a chair to reach things when he’s not around.

A small smile curls up on his lips when you compare your hands with his, admiring how big the difference was. He also melts every time your smaller arms wrap around him, your face buried in his chest as you fall asleep beside him. He likes knowing that you feel safe around him.

Whenever you two are out together, he’ll purposely slow his pace to match yours due to his long strides that make him walk faster.

Zayne is always aware of the space around you, keeping an eye for anything above you so nothing comes close to hitting your head.

Except a LOT of forehead kisses. He'll also dip his head down a lot just to kiss you. He also doesn’t mind leaning down to kiss you softly on the lips so you don’t have to strain yourself just to reach him. Whenever it was those deep, passionate kisses where his hands cradle your face, he can't help but smile at how small your head feels in his palm and how it fits so perfectly.

He also loves the way his clothing drapes off your body..which is why he can't let you wear his clothes often because he's worried he might lose control again

Rafayel:

Rafayel absolutely loves the height difference between you two. He’s tall and while some people are close to his height except you, you were so small compared to him.

Whenever you two take photos together, he leans down a little or bends his knees, even if you were wearing heels. He instinctively does it to make sure the height difference in the picture feels more balanced

Rafayel has a collection of really beautiful candid photos of you but also some of the most unflattering shots you can think of. He loves to capture moments from his height, taking photos of his camera looking down at you just to show how tall he is compared to you. It became your photo contact for a while.

You can already expect a lot of teasing from him. Whenever you attempt to kiss him, it only boosts his ego. He lets you make a few attempts, grinning smugly, “You reallllyy wanna kiss me that bad huh cutie?” With a playful smile, he’ll lean down, pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

Expect a lot of beach trips where you’ll use his towering height to shield yourself from the sun for the perfect cover. But don’t think you can get away without paying him back in kisses since he’ll be spending a lot of time with you tucked away behind him.

Whenever you two cuddle, he always gets to be the big spoon and relishes how his arms completely engulf you and loves it whenever you snuggle further into his arms. However anytime you ever want to try to be the big spoon, he’ll tease you, playfully whining about how he’s so cold.

Sylus:

Just like Zayne, he’ll install mirrors around the house so you can always catch a full view of your pretty face and body whenever you need too. But sometimes, he’ll purposely leave things on higher shelves, just so you can call him for help. Instead of him easily handing it to you, he’ll lift you up instead just because he wants to hold you.

He LOVES it when he finds you wearing his clothes. His shirts fit you like a dress sometimes and he purposely leaves the most comfiest ones out for you to wear. You’re practically drowning in his scent and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Sylus thinks it’s absolutely adorable and amusing whenever you try to kiss him, standing on your tippy toes and barely reaching his chin. So he’ll lower himself to you, gently guiding your chin to meet his gaze before pressing his soft lips to yours. If there was a chair nearby, he'd sit down, pulling you into his lap before gently pressing his lips to yours. Whenever you're a step ahead of him on the stairs, you're at the perfect height to turn around and surprise kiss him!

He loves to hold hands with you even though his large hands basically consume yours. The size difference never fails to amuse him and finds one of these physical traits of yours to be truly adorable

Whenever you're out together, he'll always have his hand resting on your lower back or he'll offer his arm for you to cling to or his hand for you to hold. He wants to make sure you're always close by his side.

Caleb:

expect teasing. A LOT of it. It makes sense why he calls you pipsqueak as your nickname.

Sometimes he’ll snatch things from you and hold it above his head just so he can get a kiss from you and watch you jump for it. “Aw what’s wrong? Can’t reach it pipsqueak? Maybe if you’d eaten your veggies when we were younger, you’d be tall enough by now.” He absolutely loves watching you get all flustered about it and he’ll laugh and comment on how cute you are.

Constant jokes of, “What was that pipsqueak? Couldn’t hear ya from down there.” With a teasing grin, he’ll lower himself just enough to meet your eyes, “There, now what were you saying?” His smirk would only deepen more if you got flustered, his warm breath brushing your skin.

Sometimes he’ll even rest his arm on top of your head just to tease you and just because it’s absolutely funny to see your reaction and besides..he misses you and the closeness you two once had.

However he knows when to you don’t want him to comment on your height and he can tell whenever the joke goes too far and knows when to stop

Caleb will NOT tolerate anyone calling you short, especially if it’s from a stranger. Whether it’s meant as a joke or even worse, a rude comment, they’d better sleep with one eye open. No one is getting away with disrespecting you

Have you ever found one of his weak spots? It’s whenever you look up at him with those pretty eyes, no puppy pouts face or anything, he’ll melt on the spot right there. Whatever you ask for, you can have it.

Occasionally he’ll ask if you can hop on his back whenever he’s going out for a run or whenever he does push-ups as if you were his personal weight to make his workouts a little more fun

[retroaria]

Michael Kaiser. That’s it. That’s the post.

i’m having kaiser thoughts. i’m pondering my orb, and all it’s showing me is michael kaiser. the evil voices in my head (my ask box) are taunting me (sending very nice requests) to sell my soul to michael kaiser (finally write something about him) and so here i am.

summary: random kaiser hc’s (lmk if you want more/nsfw ones)

BLUE LOCK M.LIST | enjoy 🪽 - aria

• thinking about how possessive he would be in a relationship. it isn’t overbearing, in the sense that he trusts you and lets you do you’re own thing. however, he’s a rather insecure man behind all that smug douchebaggery that he puts off and he has a hard time watching you interact with other men of his same stature. because truly, no matter how good he is to you, he isn’t the best person all around. there are guys out there that would be better for you and he can’t help be fear that you’ll be swept off your feet and taken from him.

• Kaiser is gentle with you. you actually turned him into a completely different person. It’s not that you’ve really changed him at his core, but you’ve opened him up to love he didn’t know before, and so he feels like he has nothing to be afraid of with you. he’s vulnerable and expressive and happy with you. he makes sure to provide that same experience for you in the relationship, making sure you always know you can go to him for anything and you don’t have to hide anything from him.

• In the beginning of the relationship, Kaiser is very protective of your privacy. He’s really afraid of the consequences that may come with the world knowing who you are and who you are to him. he’s not naive, he knows there’s bad people out there. not only that, but it’s no one else’s right to know you’re love for each other. i see him doing a soft launch and that’s it. after that he’ll post you on occasion and be a little less aggressive about hiding from paparazzi, but he still doesn’t want to share you. you’re his whole world, keyword HIS.

• kaiser LOVES intimacy. physical or emotional, he loves those sweet loving moments that come to fruition from the trust and bond the two of you have cultivated. he loves showering and taking baths with you, relishing in the gentle touches as the two of you clean each other up. they’re always filled with soft giggles and quick kisses, before drying each other off and snuggling up. he loves listening to you talk about your day, not sparing him from details you may have spared others from. telling him all the thoughts and actions you aren’t proud of, unafraid of being judged in his eyes. the vulnerability of it all makes his heart beat fast, but you’re both so trusting and in love that there’s nothing to be afraid of.

• this might be a hot take, but i feel like the concept of marriage would scare him a bit. it’s not that he doesn’t want to spend the rest of his life with you, because he absolutely does and already plans on it. it’s just a level of commitment that he never thought anyone would dedicate to him. he doesn’t want you to end up regretting it in the future. he doesn’t shy away from conversation about it though, he actually wants you guys to talk about it and get a feel for where you both stand. when the time comes to take that next step, he’s as ready as ever. just make sure you don’t break his heart please (or i’ll find you bro.)

• dates with kaiser can either be extravagant and classy or they can be chill and sweet, he can do both. sometimes he wants to take you to the nicest restaurants he can fine, see you all dolled up looking absolutely stunning for him, and pamper you the entire night. other times he just wants the two of you to do something fun and spontaneous, would take you to a fair and win you all the stuffed animals you want, or would take you on a stroll around the city, letting you frolick through the shops while he holds all your bags for you. he’s such a gentleman either way.

• kaiser loves being domestic with you. doing the laundry, grocery shopping, cleaning the house, making dinner, he loves it. in those moments he finds himself wishing they would last forever, just the two of you existing in each others presence, he has nothing to worry about.

moon divider- @strangergraphics-archive

[thesharktanksdriver]

Devils may love?: leaving home, loving life and loosing you

This is part 1 going over dmc3, I’m gonna maybe write parts for the other games if people are interested. Also maybe will eventually write some stuff for the pov of other characters in love with the blind dumbass that is reader.

Links: masterlist, part 2

You never thought that in your life you’d end up working at a place called “devil may cry”

When you initially found a job listing for the job it wasn’t even named that yet, and you never knew how much it would end up affecting your life

You used to fear not being able to pay rent on a daily basis

Feared getting mugged on your way home from a late shift or if your coupons expired before you bought groceries

But now you feared having demons knocking down your door and breathing down your neck on a daily basis

Let alone the fact that you had to deal with that alongside whatever other world ending event you somehow got caught up in

And dealing with taxes

And ensuring that Dante payed for the power and hydro in time

And….

Well there were a lot of and’s with the job that would go on to change your life

Whether that change was fully good or fully bad was up to debate

God knows how long you’ve weighed both sides in your mind

But it for sure made your life a hell of a lot more lively

Quite literally in the hell metaphor

And it all started when you found an add in the paper right after leaving a previous job and needing cash quick

You had a shitty apartment but rent was due in a short amount of time

Couldn’t rely on your parents either, not when they put you in this situation in the first place and you’d took the opportunity to get as far away from their shit as possible

Which meant you had fairly limited options

Especially with the fact you’d also had to drop out at the finish line of high school to make ends meet

That had ended up biting you in the ass more than anything

But the paper in your hands said little qualifications were needed

So it was your last chance

You never knew what it entail when you entered through the double doors of the newly bought building

The street lights above you illuminating your hope filled face holding your short resume

Admittedly sitting down for the job interview with Dante was a rather…daunting task

Less because he was intimidating

And moreso for the fact that the man (you say that hesitantly because he was literally the same age as you) who introduced himself as Dante sat with his feet kicked up on his desk and barely even glanced at your resume

The paper simply ended up in his hands for his eyes to skim before letting it be placed atop a stack of papers that looked like overdue bills nearby

Nor had he asked any work related question like “how do you work well in a team environment” or “do you have any prior experience to jobs like this”

Instead your potential future employer snacked on a slice of pizza and asked you questions like “know any places that deliver mid-apocalypse?” And “want a slice? Can’t guarantee you’ll get more than a piece or two with how fast I eat”

You can’t say you’d had any job interviews end up like this

They mostly ended up with fake smiles and promises to contact you if you got the position and never hearing a peep from them again

But Dante seems all too lax to be considered serious at all

Well besides his serious addiction to take out evident by the few leftover stacked pizza boxes and cartons of Chinese swept off to the side

Whenever you bring up your resume he waves it off or switches topics

He definitely didn’t even read through your previous job experiences

He just read your name and your phone number

What’s worse is that this wouldn’t even be the worst boss you’d had

Just potentially the weirdest

And that’s saying something

But At least he’s not some old creep the age of your dad leering at you

He’s just a horned up teen boy

He’s 18, just like you and just as in need of needing to get by on his own as you are

Though you think for different circumstances

By how he keeps a small photo of a blond woman on his desk, the only thing comparably well kept on the scratched up mahogany slab implies something

Something your not privy to (yet) but something none the less

A thing that leaves him both careless and untethered all the same

Perhaps for both good and bad

Whilst your seemingly the opposite, you can’t help but think of your parents with a bitterness that crawls up and wraps round every memory good (not many I the first place) or bad

Along with the fact that you can’t and don’t want to go back to them and would rather try to scrape by on your own

Even if it meant dropping out before graduation to do so

Just so you could get a job to afford rent since minimum wage wouldn’t get you by

Well…it certainly has a lot of weight to it both

Maybe something he recognizes when despite your made up professional appearance there are some cracks in it

How you nervously play with your hands

The fact that your his age and asking for a job that’d be enough to afford groceries and a roof over your head

No matter how leaky or loud the neighbours were

So when the interview is over you begin to count your losses

Grabbing your bag and trying not to hang your head on the way out

He must’ve just been messing with you

Or at least that’s what you think until he stops you asking where you going

And you can only tilt your head in confusion saying that you were heading back to your apartment

“But your already on the job”

“Huh? But I thought you were pulling my leg”

“What do you mean? I hired you already”

“What?! When???”

“When I opened the door and found an absolute babe in front of me asking for a job”

You think your already starting to regret this choice

But cash is king and you need some of that dollar to get by this month

You’ll just resign when you get on your feet and find something better

(News flash that doesn’t happen. Oh poor young naive past you)

Working at this still yet to be named paranormal/mercenary agency is a relatively easy task

Answer the phone, organize Dante’s increasingly messy desk, file some paperwork and make sure the bills are payed on time

Maybe throw out some old takeout and fight off the colony of raccoons in the back who started making a palace from pizza boxes

Somehow that ends up being the most odd but simultaneously normal thing you’d experienced yet

The place itself is actually quite cosy when you get used to it

Warm lighting accented by a the soft hum of the jukebox playing some 80’s power ballad

It makes for a nice mood when your sweeping up or filling things out

A comfy leather chair and a simple but effective desk for you to work at if it wasn’t already occupied

The smell of gunsmoke and cologne wafting in the air…alongside leftover pizza remains that you try to mask with fabreeze

On that half the job is simple

Effective as you mainly just ensured the place didn’t burn down

Or have the power taken again

Something you’d expect from being a secretary and or cleaner

(You will not say your a maid, Dante kept insisting that maybe he’d get you a proper costume to go with it that you quickly shut down)

And mainly answer the phone when Dante wasn’t there to butt in and take the receiver from you

But on the other hand working at this still unnamed place also means you were working with Dante

And that was a mixed bag in of itself

For as much as he initially intimated you with his display of guns right behind his desk or the sword casually strapped to his back

Or the ungodly amount of times you dealt with him covered head to toe covered in gore and blood

Or the fact he was your boss and could fire you at any moment

Dante’s intimidation factor quickly faded away into mild annoyance from his Dante..ness

Look you aren’t paid enough to deal with this crap-

To others Dante was the demon hunter

A mercenary of well known regard

A hero who saved the day and stopped the forces of hell

A badass with a penchant for overly complicated and dramatic theatrics

And dear god was he known for how he did this all effortlessly while seemingly being the coolest man ever known

But to you he was your annoying boss

This was both affectionately and as an insult due to the amount of times he’d gone out of his way to dump the bills on your desk and high tailed it out of the store using a mission as an eccuse

Dante as your employer is weird plain and simple

He has moments where he toys with you slightly

Pushing your buttons but never pushing too far 

Small jokes sent your way but nothing extreme

Knowing when you began to look genuinely upset and stopping before he accidentally crossed the line in the sand

He drapes himself over your shoulders while your trying to fill out his papers

Keyword his

Or he calls you by those god awful nicknames

He calls you a plethora of stuff: babe, baby, hot stuff, sugar

But most embarrassingly and most frequently

“honeypie~”

You’d swear with the amount of times he called you that you could permanently pay for the electricity bill and maybe even the water

A shit eating grin on his face as he drags out the pet name whenever he could in a sing-song manner

(Including in front of clientele and eventually the other members of dmc when they join…and it unfortunately sticks since everyone but Nero partakes in torturing you this way-)

You’ve chased him with his plethora of weapons many times trying to wipe that grin off his face

Yelling his name at the top of your lungs as he hopped over his desk and toppled the stack of still unsigned paperwork

The phone ringing conveniently has saved him too many times when you were just about to get revenge

The most effective threatening tool of them all was the well loved broom you’d swear you’d mastered at this point

But on the other hand Dante is equally kind as he is annoying

When not playfully teasing and joking Dante just talks to you

Sometimes it’s mundane things like asking for recommendations for new schlocky horror flicks to watch

Other times it’s complaining whatever demonic creature he was sent to exterminate

Something he had initially tried to hide from you before you very easily pointed out the literal demon heads he’d impaled on the walls weeks earlier

For all his bravado and being a bit of an ass he’s caring at his core

You see that through his actions that are both loud and clear and quiet and invisible

There are times he makes his care obvious

He watches intently and knows when your tired and pushing yourself to get things done even if your trying to hide it

The subtle lull of your head as exhaustion seeps into your bones

He gets up from whatever he was distracting himself with (typically a magazine of some sort)

Telling you to “take a break there babe. Don’t want you to keel over too soon” though the slight edge to it indicates his worry as he takes the paperwork off your desk and stashes it some place absurdly high

His go too method to get you to stop overworking

other times when you fall asleep at the front desk you wake up to find his coat draped over your shoulders and yourself relocated on a nearby couch

A small sticky note clinging to your face saying “don’t overwork yourself honepie, who else is gonna keep me in check. By the way there’s some leftover pizza for you in the fridge if I’m not back by when you wake up - your favorite devil hunter Dante :)”

How he offers to walk you home or let you stay the night if it was getting particularly late

Though whenever he makes that offer he ruins it with the wiggling of his eyebrows immediately after

And the cheeky grin that by that point your too tired to try and erase off his face

But even then, when he makes that offer you see in crystalline blue eyes the sincerity in them

A smidge of worry and maybe even a crumb of fear

His more subtle care comes in the form of how you find your area more safer than usual

Less muggings let alone demons slinking through the night

Apparently he made it known that these were his stomping grounds and with his reputation most demons knew to stay clear

Same for muggers as well with his name in the underworld

His other silent care comes in the form of finding your favourite snacks eventually stocked at in the small kitchen

It comes from a few stray questions here and there

Or noticing what you packed yourself for lunch/snacks

He never acknowledges it

But you do find he has a small smile when seeing you enjoy what he bought

Content without a thank you because seeing your smile was enough

how the jukebox now seems to contain songs you’d mentioned enjoying out of nowhere

Or songs you’d already liked in the machine playing more often

Because that’s the sort of person Dante was

The man who when you call in sick ends up at your place with wanton soup and medicine

Never asking for anything In return except for you to recover properly

Or The fact he always he always buys you a strawberry sundae alongside his own or makes sure to buy a split pizza incase you didn’t like his toppings

It’s perhaps because of this you keep telling yourself you’ll put off finding another job

That the job market was bad right now even if you’d seen another promising job

Just because seeing his stupid grin when he sees you enter was payment enough even without the cash

“Dante I swear to god! Get back here!”

“Sorry honepie! Got a job to do!!”

“You’re not leaving until you pay the god damn bills you asshole!!! If you can deal with demons then you can deal with me you bastard!!!” Raising the broom you whack his head, making the devil hunter groan and he returns to running for his life out the double doors “also pick a god damn name for this place already! A business needs a name!”

You end up seeing Dante in various particular intimate moments in his life (Even before all the craziness that would come later on down the line)

It first begins when you see the days he’s drained from wear and tear

From the jobs that went bad even if he made it back alive

his shoulders sag even when he tries to act like his cocky self

His grin more strained as blue eyes hold back tears from failure to save someone

You don’t ask

Never have the heart to

But you do find yourself pulling him close even with the height difference

The first time it happens he goes stiff

Still as a statue in such an uncharacteristic manner

Thinking he’s uncomfortable you tried to pull away, an apology at the tip of your tongue when shaky arms pulled you back

Clinging to you as knees buckle and he ends up in the crook of your neck

You don’t mention how his sobs are heartwrenching

Nor that they haunt you with how vulnerable it sounds

Instead you thread fingers through his snowy hair, weaving through the soft locks

You never ask what happened

Instead you say that you’d order pizza tonight, on the house

With a few sobs he tries to argue but you don’t relent

And somehow the stubborn man you called your boss relents

Perhaps for the first time you’d ever seen

It’s later on when these moments happen though few and far between that he opens up bit by bit

It takes about a year but Like small fractures in a dam it eventually breaks and lets out the waterworks

He tells you he had a dad, a stern but caring man who disappeared one day and probably died

He tells you that he had a brother, his twin who was his opposite in almost every way possible down to contrasting favourite colours

The most caring mom in the world who died as flames consumed their home

He could only stay hidden in the closet

Scared and alone

Powerless to it all

How for years he was alone with only a trail of regrets and people he cared for ending up in the crossfire

How he’s only part human (though to be honest you already kinda put that together after he walked off being impaled one day)

All because of him

That despite it all he only ended up failing time and time again

And most surprisingly that he was scared

Scared for you

Because everyone he cared for ended up dead

And that he’s sorry for being selfish and keeping you around despite the risk

That you have to hate him for how annoying he was

For the danger he brought even being in the same room as you

It’s admittedly a lot

But you hold him, letting him get it all out

Hands that had seen so much loss and blood clutching you like you were the last valuable thing in the world and simultaneously made of glass

It just solidifies your words when you tell him that honestly he was a giant pain in the ass

A admittedly terrible boss

A smartass and flirty bastard

But he was a good person

Someone who did his best despite the circumstances

Because no matter how much he was kicked down and spat on he took it with a cocky smile

Never letting the salt in the wound sting in front of others

And that most importantly you can’t guarantee that you won’t get hurt

But you’d stick with him

For some reason despite all the risks he lists off you wanna stay

Your not really sure as to why

But you stay and that’s what matters

The risk he practically begs you to consider

Yet you stay

So in the vulnerable moments you wait for him by the doors

Waiting and ready for him to collapse into your arms

Ignoring the blood and gore that you’d inevitably have to wash out your clothes yet again

But it’s a price to pay when the man you call your friend

Your technical boss who was more like your own employee than anything with how you heckled him to get work done

Your best friend and worst migraine holds you with such fragility

You never confirm with him but you think the last time someone hugged him like this was his mom

All those years ago as the blazing flames surrounded them

It’s perhaps why he clutches you so close

Hoping to not let go and have the past repeat itself

But unlike back then you remind Dante that he’s not powerless anymore

He’s not the scared boy locked in a closet surrounded by the flames

He’s a man with the power to protect those weaker than him

Because he knows what it’s like to be powerless

To pray for a hand to reach out and to now be that hand for others

Despite what he thought you remind him that the truly powerful protect what they love

(Unbeknownst to you, you are that love)

(The beating heart that makes his humanity all the more apparent and his demonic side all the more powerful with something to protect)

All the while you morn the fact that Dante and you are the same age

Both kids with no one seemingly but each other in this world and left to navigate with one another

Your both just kids

You’d heard too many of Dante’s stories about his childhood not to recognize the sight of his brother inside your apartment

White hair slicked back instead of messy locks framing his face

Their near identical features if not for the ominous threatening look in blue eyes that you knew Dante would never direct towards you even if you took the last slice or banned him from strawberry sundaes yet again

You’d think after all the stuff you’d been through due to Dante like the incident with the raccoons out back becoming infused with demon power

Or the amount of times you’d saved his sorry ass from going fully broke

That this would be the worst thing that could happen

An Incorrect assumption

Looking at his definitely evil twin brother you can’t help but sigh and put your hands up in defeat

He told you awhile back about his run In with his twin

Said twin trying to steal his half of the amulet that the half-demon always wore

Well “always wore” besides the times he’d go to take a shower and ask you to hold onto it for him for a bit

Then returning it once he was done, a certain shine of gratitude in his eyes when he sees you polished it for him

Anyways back to the evil twin thing, apparently Vergil gave back said amulet because “he said he could take it back anytime he wanted”

The death glare and that quote alone alerted you to what type of person you had in your apartment

And that’s not even accounting the fact that he’s also part demon and has a real ass katana with him

“So do you want me to write a note for him before you kidnap me? Or do you want me to call him instead?”

To be completely honest after the raccoon incident you can’t even be remotely surprised anymore

But this does either earn you amusement from said definitely evil brother or at least some brownie points for being compliant

“Your cooperating?”

“Listen sir…uh Vergil? I’m assuming your Vergil? Anyways Vergil I’m not paid enough to deal with this….and your brother said I’d be paid overtime if something like this happened. So if anything this a forced paid vacation”

To be honest that last part was mostly you trying to find some good in this admittedly shitty situation

You always had great copping skills or at least that’s what you told yourself

At least you’d hopefully get something out of this besides trauma

And potential scars physical and psychological

Or Maybe even death if your super unlucky and piss off the blue half demon

But that was an if

A big if due to the fact he hasn’t already cut you down implying he needed you for something

And hopefully that something would give Dante enough time to save you

God forbid he doesn’t or else you’d become a demon and claw your way out of hell to torture him with undone paperwork

And with that you end up as hostage/bait in a literal hell tower that spouted up from the ground

Vergil and some weird guy called Arkham holding you at the top of the tower like some princess

Guess in this case Dante would be your proverbial knight in shinning armour while Vergil was the dragon or something

The analogy wasn’t too far off with that weird ass jester occasionally popping up to piss you off when Vergil left the room

You couldn’t wait for the long nosed bastard to have some lead shoved inbetween his eyes for the fact he kept joking about your dead expression whilst being kidnapped

Unlike him you had some scraps of dignity you wanted to save

Plus what was even the point of kicking and screaming when you were up against a half demon and whatever else they had up their sleeves

Speaking of said other half demon though

Surprisingly you didn’t entirely mind Vergil

Was he an ass? Definitely

But at least you could have a conversation with him

Something that surprises even him when you spotted him pulling out a book of poetry

Specifically William Blake

Yeah, surprise surprise somehow that “useless” class in high school your parents hounded you about wasting your time on actually became relevant

You’d say you’d told them if it weren’t for the fact you never wanted to see either of them again

He reads quietly aloud not expecting you to finish the last part for him

“The sun descending in the west, the evening star does shine; The birds are silent in their nest, and I must seek for mine-”

“The moon, like a flower, in heavens high bower, with silent delight, sits and smiles on, the night”

For the first time you see something crack in his stoic demeanour

a spark of something when he then turns to you

Surprise? Maybe even a hint of some sort of longing

You don’t know what he went through after he was separated from Dante, but you can only guess it was just as hard as his twin up to this point

So maybe finding someone with the same love for flowery words of a dead guy was comforting in some weird way

At least as comforting it could get for someone who hated humanity

He walks over to where you sat on the cold ground with your wrists and ankles bound, asking if you knew more of Blake’s work and when you nod

At that there’s a moment of silence and then he asks for your interpretation of old words on faded yellow pages

This leads you to discuss with Dante’s brother without being called a “useless human” 5 seconds in

Honestly sitting atop the weird demon tower debating with him wasn’t what you pictured

But it is a sure if a lot better than what you originally imagined

Mostly because it’s actually pretty fun

Vergil unlike Dante seems to like debating and discussing

Something that was hard to do with Dante because he either brushed it off or was more prone to changing the subject

You don’t blame him for it, stuff like this wasn’t his forte

But it was nice having someone to talk to about it

The two of you start off at first with Blake

Interpretations of his poems meanings

Particular passages either of you enjoyed

That evolves into discussion of other poets

Poe, Dickinson, Shakespeare, Wilde, frost and Shelley

But it later devolves into world views

Specifically his opinion on humanity

Because despite the fact that Vergil is part human and his fully demon father married a mortal woman and seemingly abandoned that part of himself

Vergil ended up despising his humanity

Thinking of it as inferior to his demonic half

Well, maybe hate was a strong word but he definitely looked down on humans

Yourself included but maybe a bit less considering he was talking with you instead of scowling silently as he did before

He was the opposite of Dante in every way

While Dante embraced his humanity Vergil shunned his own

But Vergil accepted his demonic half whilst Dante still remained hesitant of it

One brother was loud, the other silent

One Red and one blue

One Warm and one cold

Complete and total opposites in every manner of the word

While you don’t agree with Vergils views you do try to understand them

You make the effort of understanding him because you think he deserves as much

Not only because he was important to Dante but because like Dante he also was your age

He was a kid like you are even if he tried to act mature

He thinks his mom abandoned him that day in favour of Dante

Telling him she didn’t wouldn’t change his mind especially from you of all people

A human who’d never met her or was there for that event

Especially if Dante had tried and still couldn’t get through to him

So instead you reason with him in other such ways

Sparda had sealed off the demon from the human world for a reason

Didn’t that indicate something to him?

Plus he was already powerful enough by every other standard possible

He could outmatch any human that came his way

He raised a god damn hell tower to prove it

He was already top of the proverbial food chain with enough power

Dipping his toes into this though could shift those tides

Admittedly you knew jack shit about hell and it’s hierarchy besides the small tidbits Dante explained

And even then those snippets of information were from the small stories his dad told when he was younger so it was dubious at best

You’re not sure if Mr. Sparda had sanitized stories for his sons or if he told them the truth and didn’t cushion the blow

But it safe to say even the most powerful of humans couldn’t compare to the upper crust of hell

Plus the added bonus of It being closed off for who knows how long giving an even bigger question mark as to what’s down there

Because if hell is anything like humanity things change and demons get stronger

For all he knows he could be inviting that Mundus guy his father went against to his doorstep

And seeing how Sparda apparently had a difficult time defeating him at full power the odds weren’t in anyone’s favour

That last part seems to shake him a bit more than you’d initially thought

You see the stone cold demeanour crack slightly

“Are you calling me weak?”

“I’m not, Far from it. But all I’m saying is that opening that portal is opening pandora’s box.” For a moment you pause watching his stewing expression “there’s no undoing it if you do and no telling what your unleashing on not only everyone else but yourself. Your not guaranteed anything from this, let alone the power you seek ”

Distantly if you listen hard enough you swear you hear gunshots ring out on the lower floors of the tower

The familiar rhythm and melody of ebony and ivory’s gunshots

You’d heard them too many times to be able to memorize the sound

But along with that your alerted to the fact that someone else besides Dante is in the tower

Something Vergil seems less than amused with

Not to mention the fact he looks like he’s perpetually 5 seconds away from stabbing that Arkham guy nearly any time the man opens his mouth

Something you can’t exactly complain about since you’d also found him plain weird

And that’s saying something

The only thing out that bald freak’s mouth that you agreed with was that a storm was approaching

Both physical and metaphorical as you sit when the rain begins to fall

Sitting atop this ancient tower of stone you can’t help but find some irony in it all

Sparda had sealed away this unholy tower to stop the passage from one world to the next

But ultimately it’s one of Sparda’s sons who tries to resurrect it and undo his fathers work while the other wants to topple it for humanity’s sake as his father did

It was like a twisted form of jenga with this Tower of Babel

With you unfortunately at the top of the tower waiting for it to topple

The moon hangs high in the sky, Illuminating the droplets that shine

The pale silver light reminding you of both of the twins hair

Dante’s is left down to frame his face, free and messy just like he is

Whilst Vergils is pushed back and sleek, professionalism and an air of confidence in it

Never had you been as relived in your life until that point when you see Dante’s knotted messy mop of hair

Slightly stained with blood and viscera that soon began to wash away under the rain

You can’t help but yell his name in sheer excitement, his eyes light up

Lurching forwards your stopped not only by the fact that your currently tied up with uncomfortable ass rope but also the fact that Vergil unsheathe his sword in front of you

A indignant huff escaping him

(From your yell or his brother your not sure…probably both considering him)

You see your reflection in the blade alongside the hollow presence of the moon

Her silent presence a small comfort in this entire situation despite her impartialness in helping

(You do not see the blue wearing brother glance down at you for the briefest of moments)

You can’t do anything but watch as the two fight

Blow after blow

Slash after slash

Round after round fired from ebony and ivory

All the while you stay huddled to the ground trying to desperately stay out the way

Your works cut out for you though on account the two seem to pivot away if they get too close

No matter if either was about to win Dante would pull back if either him or Vergil got too close to you for comfort

And you think even Vergil seemed to do the same for some reason

Maybe he wanted to kill you later or something

But the turning point comes and red stains the cold ground

Yamato impaling itself through Dante’s chest while you can only watch

You can’t help but scream his name again as he falls and the necklace is torn from his neck

The heirloom he seemed to only trust you with being stolen

Vergil smoothed his hair back under the rain in a comedically villain manner that takes you out of it for a moment

This is your life now

Captive atop a tower while two half demon brothers duked it out

Dante twitches, ready to get up but Vergil takes Dante’s own sword and stabs him with it

Vergil and Arkham talk for a moment but your too distracted to pay their words any attention

Not when your focused on Dante

and then a beam of light shoots out Dante’s sword and the sword changes?

And then Dante’s back up again

This all happens in the span of a couple minutes the while your gaping at the scene

Because a) you knew Dante had some type of magic deus ex machina bullshit but you didn’t know he could get stabbed multiple times and survive. Mind you, you’d seen him stabbed once or twice before and walk it off but several times in a row was something you didn’t expect him t just walk off either

plus b) all this time he could get impaled several times over and yet his ass would run like you were coming at him with a chainsaw when you were trying to whack him on the head with a broom a few days back

You don’t get much time to focus on that anymore

Not when Vergil picks you up and walks to the edge of the tower

All the while Dante stumbles to his feet

A bloodied cough erupting from his chest as he tried to stumble forwards with his arm outstretched to you

“Oh please god no, can’t you just take the stairs-“ before you get to finish your plea Vergil takes a leap off the tower with you firmly on his shoulder grasping him for dear life “DANTE!!”

Never had you thought that your life would end up like this

And it all came from a singular job ad

[kazmura]

‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ sunghoon x fem, 0.5k, est relationship fluff, ‎‎‎ when sharing face masks with your boyfriend turns into a makeout lol..

› ice boy collection

Your feet gently swayed back and forth as you sat on the bathroom countertop of your shared apartment, a wide smile lighting up your face. Sunghoon leaned in closer, his hands planted firmly on either side of you. His expression mirrored your joy as you carefully clipped his fluffy hair back, your fingers brushing against his warm skin. Even after two years together, the butterflies you gave each other never faded, their flutter as strong as the day it all began.

You giggled softly, leaning in to press your lips against his soft skin. You left gentle pecks on his cheek, then his nose, and finally found his plump lips, lingering there with a warmth that spoke volumes.

He looked down at you with a teasing grin. "Aren't we supposed to be doing face masks right now?"

"We have to kiss before we put them on! Otherwise, we'll just ruin them," you replied with a playful pout.

"Well then, I guess we’d better get it all out now, huh?" he said with a smirk before cradling your face in his hands and pulling you into an intimate kiss.

His lips met yours in a soft, lingering kiss, but it quickly deepened as he tilted his head, drawing you closer. His thumbs gently stroked your cheeks, and the warmth of his touch sent shivers down your spine. A satisfied hum left your lips as time seemed to pause, the world fading away as the kiss grew more passionate, leaving you both breathless when you finally pulled apart, foreheads resting together as you shared a quiet moment.

You gently pulled away, a soft smile on your now puffy lips, and grabbed your brush to apply the mask. Carefully, you held his jaw, steadying him as you swept the cool product over his warm skin. Your breath hitched when your eyes met his, the love in his gaze so intense it made your heart flutter.

"Stop looking at me like that, you're distracting me," you muttered, trying to focus.

He smirked, his voice low and teasing. "I can’t help it."

You rolled your eyes playfully, but the heat rising to your cheeks betrayed you, making him chuckle softly as he continued to watch you with unwavering affection.

When his mask was done, he wasted no time, his hands slipping around your waist as he swiftly pulled you down from the countertop and perched himself there instead.

"Let me apply yours now," he said with a playful giggle, tugging you closer. Before you could respond, he cupped your face and captured your lips in a deep, slightly rough kiss that left your knees weak.

"Hey! You're going to ruin your mask," you managed to breathe out between kisses, your voice a mix of protest and laughter.

He smirked against your lips, his tone mischievous. "You said it yourself—we have to kiss before applying."

sorry this is so self indulgent 💔 i was literally just daydreaming of this and then decided to write it as a fic..

© kazmura, all rights reserved‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ @kflixnet

[sixosix]

(OFFICIALLY) SWEPT OFF YOUR FEET

i. summary in which everyone knew you were in a relationship, except for you.

ii. warnings wc 1.5k, profanity, reader will be angry: couple fight scene but not really, alhaitham is kinda dumb here, but he loves you and you love him and that's all that matters, ending is kinda lame... ft. tighnari and cyno

iii. written for my big sibling @earthtooz hope u like this one earf ily

“Hey, Alhaitham?”

He hums noncommittally.

You nestle further in his arm that’s draped lazily over your shoulder, his other hand and his attention occupied by a book. He doesn’t respond again, but he does glance at you for a moment while you shift, adjusting his arm more comfortably.

“Tighnari sent me a letter the other day.”

“Hm.”

“And it was real sweet, you know. He sent over fruits and told me you have your share in my package. He didn’t want to send them to you because he said the fruits would have expired by the time you’d read the letter.” Alhaitham doesn’t deny it. “But I read something extremely strange in the letter that had me dropping the fruits out of pure shock.”

Alhaitham still doesn’t reply. But you know him well enough to know that he’s no longer reading—just keeping appearances.

“Did you read it?”

“...No.”

Obviously. “Ah, well. Let me quote it, as I feel the need to share it with you as well.” You sit up straight and push Alhaitham’s book away from his line of view. “He said, ‘For the insufferable, lovely couple. It’s been a while since you two have visited. How are you and Alhaitham doing? Write back soon.’ And then he taped a flower.”

Alhaitham’s mouth twitches into a half-smile. “You look miffed.”

You scowl. “Alhaitham, of course I’m miffed! Since when were we a lovely couple? And why are you not surprised? Were you the one to prank them?”

“No one’s trying to fool anyone,” he says smoothly, picking up his book once again. As if he just hasn’t caused your crisis. “Tighnari is simply being a good friend and looking for something to nag us about.”

“Alhaitham, since when were we a couple?” you demanded again, shaking his arm. “Did I miss something? Did I wake up one day and forget about being in a relationship with you?”

“Haven’t we always been in one?”

“No, we have not?”

Alhaitham casts you a glance. “You sound unsure.”

“Because you seem so sure of yourself for no reason,” you fume, itching with the urge to hurl the book at his face. “I didn’t even know you were even into me like that!”

“I let you kiss me on the cheek every night before you leave my house. Sometimes, you don’t even leave my house, so we sleep on the same bed.” As if that explains anything. And did he fling out these reasons to Tighnari, too?

“Well, I do it because I’ve been doing it since we were, like, six. And you never told me to stop. Plus, it’s just a cheek kiss—that’s way different from an actual kiss actual couples do,” you say, getting increasingly infuriated with each word that’s coming out your mouth. Why do you have to explain how relationships work to Alhaitham? Surely he’s read a guide about love in the millions of books he’s touched?

“I don’t see why you wouldn’t start kissing me the way couples do, then.”

Oh, this bitch. “So you knew that I liked you?” Your voice wavers, and you feel a little pathetic. “And that’s what prompted you to start spreading lies to everyone? Is this some joke to you?”

Immediately, his expression is swept off of amusement. “Y/N,” he says as you feel your lips tremble. “Y/N, that’s not—���

“Shut up,” you say. “How long has this been going on? Since when have I been outside of the biggest inside joke, huh?”

“It’s not like that. I thought—”

“Oh, you thought, didn’t you? Yet you didn’t think I don’t want my feelings to be played like—like—” You can’t even bring yourself to say this. You know that Alhaitham can be mean when he wants to be, but making a joke out of the feelings you’ve desperately hidden for years?

“I need to leave.” You’re not sure why you feel the need to announce it. Was it because you rarely even leave his place? Each step feels wrong. You don’t want to be mad at Alhaitham to this extent but you’re hurt.

You ignore Alhaitham’s hurried, “Where are you going?” because you don’t have an answer to that. Wherever you go, you always end up in Alhaitham’s arms.

You forcefully push the door open and march off, head spinning, humiliated. You hear Alhaitham’s steps fall into place after yours. It’s pissing you off even more that Alhaitham doesn’t even look the slightest bit frazzled, as if you impulsively sprinting off is just a walk in the block for him.

Then you spot Cyno in the middle of a street. He catches your wrist before you can avoid him.

He blinks, mildly surprised to see it’s just you and not some food stall thief. “Y/N.” Cyno tilts his head slightly to acknowledge the man a few feet away from you. “Alhaitham. Is something the matter?”

“It’s nothing!” You don’t question why or how Cyno is here, shoving him aside—which proved to be a little difficult given how he’s pretty strong for such a tiny man.

“You’re crying,” Cyno points out as you try to push him away as if you aren’t aware of how your face feels uncomfortably hot and how tears are sliding off your cheeks.

“It’s a marital dispute,” Alhaitham says, directly behind you.

His voice makes you scowl. So infuriatingly sexy, and you’re mad at it. “We’re not married!”

Cyno nods, serious. “Yes, I only heard about the engagement.” At your stunned silence and Alhaitham’s reluctant stillness, Cyno clears his throat and steps aside. “I suppose I’ll leave you two to it. I don’t know how relationships work.”

You groan as Cyno walks off, “Great, so even Cyno thinks we’re a couple. Who’s next, Lesser Lord Kusanali?”

Alhaitham looks away. “Well—”

“Oh, fuck off.”

Your wrist seems keen on being dragged around by men today, it seems. Alhaitham firmly tugs at your arm, pulling you close to his chest, his gaze intensely searching yours. But all he would be able to see is your scowl. And all you can see is his handsome face.

“Y/N,” Alhaitham says, your name in his voice a sweet murmur. “I’m sorry I upset you. I didn’t think you would react that way.”

“What, you think I’d just roll with it?” you spit with dripping bitterness.

“Yes.” You're taken aback as you gaze at him and find his expression to be entirely genuine and open. “We fell into a friendship so easily. I fell in love with you the same way: naturally. I thought…” And then his usually blank face twists into something unpleasant. “Forgive me.”

“Alhaitham, you idiot. You bastard. Do you have any idea how relationships work?”

“No. All I know is how to be with you.” He wipes a tear off your cheek. “But it appears I’m not even doing that right.”

“Fuck you.” You bat his hand away. His face falls. “You don’t get to act all sweet to me like that. I spent years thinking you would never see me that way, and you get to decide one morning that we’re in a relationship, just like that?”

“You’ve liked me for years?” Alhaitham’s eyes are a bit wide, totally missing the point.

“Alhaitham.”

“I ask you out every dinner. And you say yes each time.”

“I didn’t think you meant it like that!”

“I did mean it like that,” Alhaitham says, and again with that ‘so sure of myself’ personality. You hate it. You love it. “And I meant everything I’ve ever said to you like that. I didn’t tell anyone anything; they just assumed on their own, and only then did I realize how it did seem that way. It was my selfishness that didn’t try to deny their assumptions.”

Alhaitham’s usually so difficult to speak to, especially when it comes to expressing his true emotions. You often find yourself filling the silence, and he seems content with it. However, he appears desperate at this moment, as though you’re planning on leaving if he doesn’t give you a reason to stay.

You are too weak. “So you like me.”

“I do.”

“…And you want to… be in a relationship with me.” Alhaitham nods. You're beginning to feel flustered as the realization sets in that the man you've always dreamt of is holding you intimately in the middle of nowhere, and also confessing that he feels the same way. “Ask me out properly, then.”

Alhaitham looks at you incredulously. Did he think it was over?

“Do it, Alhaitham. Woo me. Win me over. Sweep me off my feet.”

“...Y/N,” he hesitates, his face tinted pink, vaguely embarrassed. “Go out with me. In that way.”

It sounds demanding and clumsy, but it’s perfectly Alhaitham, so your heart beats out of your chest and your face splits into a grin all the same.

You wrap your arms around his neck. “If you’re gonna be my boyfriend, you’re going to do it right, you hear me? You won’t just let me do anything. And you will start—officially—tomorrow by telling everyone that we are not engaged nor married.”

Alhaitham dips his head down, your chin trapped by his fingers. “We will be, eventually, though. And I can just start now. Officially.”

Your confusion doesn’t last for even a second when his lips meet yours in a kiss. You’ve been wooed. Won over. Swept off your feet.

earth i hope u know it took me months to find a good plot for your man this was a feat in itself. also i copy pasted your tags love u.

also if u caught the title while it was called swept over your feet shut up…. Please. this didnt have a title originally 🙁

[crescenthistory]

steady me, guide me, love me

Pairing: Barty Crouch Junior x Reader

Summary: After yet another fight, you have a serious talk with Junior about being careful, and he allows himself to be vulnerable with you.

Words: 3.7k

Warnings: not proofread, references to duels, blood and bruised knuckles, hurt/comfort, reader is anxious and stressed for barty, talks of dying, reader is not matching barty's freak but it's because she loves him and wants him to take a breather, barty and reader have an emotional disagreement but i would not classify it as a "fight", kissingggggg, like one innuendo

Notes: this was originally going to be an entirely different fic and not at all this emotional, but then barty had a mind of his own and took over my writing. so i am simply not to blame

***

The torches lining the Slytherin common room flickered in the dim light of the early evening. A faint breeze swept through the castle, carrying the scent of damp stone and the promise of rain. The common room was unusually quiet for a Friday night – students scattered in clusters, engrossed in studying or murmuring in low tones about the latest drama from their shared classes.

Barty was not among them. 

You sat on one of the far couches, attempting to focus on your homework but mostly letting your mind wander. It wasn’t unusual for Barty to disappear, but you hadn’t seen him for hours now, and the knot of anxiety in your stomach tightened as time ticked by. You knew him too well. Whatever he was doing, it wasn’t good.

The door to the common room burst open with a loud thud, shaking the portraits on the walls. The students nearby jumped, startled, while your heart only jumped in recognition. Barty, his hair windswept, his tie undone, and his eyes gleaming with that feral, maniacal delight he wore like armour, strode in like he owned the place.

Trailing behind him, a faint scent of burnt fabric and… was that blood?

Your stomach clenched, and you shot up from the couch, abandoning your parchment as you hurried toward him. 

“Barty–” you began, but before you could even reach him, Barty’s voice rang out, sharp as ever.

“That was brilliant!” he declared, a wicked grin splitting his face. The students in the room shot wary glances at him before quickly looking away, clearly unwilling to be caught up in whatever this is.

You stopped in front of him, hands crossed over your chest, trying to keep your voice steady despite the surge of concern rising in your throat. “What did you do?”

His eyes flicked over to you, and for a brief moment, something in them softened, only for a moment – Barty wasn’t one to linger on emotions that exposed him.

“Oh, hi, dollface,” he drawled, closing the distance between you in two strides. He leaned down, close enough that you could feel the warmth of his breath against your ear, the smell of singed air and danger still clinging to him. “You should’ve seen it. That prat, Avery, dared to insult us–”

“Barty, what did you do?” you repeated, your voice firmer this time. You gripped his arm, pulling him slightly away from the curious eyes in the room, off to the side.

His smirk widened, unbothered. “We duelled. A proper one. Out by the forest. Let’s just say…” He waved a hand dismissively, as if the details didn’t matter. “He won’t be insulting anyone for a while. Got a good lesson in fear.”

You stared at him, heart pounding. There was a faint smear of blood near the collar of his shirt – not his, you hoped – and his knuckles were bruised, like they’d been cracked against someone’s jaw. Clearly not just a magical duel. 

“Are you okay?” you asked, wanting to ensure he was good before you rip into him for putting himself in harm’s way again.

He half-scoffed at you, waving any concern off. “I’m here, ain’t I? I’m fine, Avery’s not the worst I’ve seen.”

“Barty, you can’t keep doing this,” you whispered, eyes darting toward the others in the common room. You lowered your voice even more. “You can’t keep getting into fights just because someone runs their mouth.”

“Can’t?” he repeated, his expression twisting into a mocking smile, though you could see some uncertainty in his eyes. “You know damn well I can, baby. I will. If some filthy coward thinks he can throw my name – our name – in the dirt, I’ll break him.”

“You’ll get yourself expelled, is what you’ll do,” you shot back, frustration bubbling up inside you. “Or worse – someone’s going to get seriously hurt. You can’t just throw yourself into these things because– because–”

“Because what?” Barty interrupted, his voice sharper than he usually was with you. His eyes bore into yours, demanding something you weren’t sure you could give him. “Because I care too much? Because I won’t let anyone talk down to us?”

There it was again, that us he always slipped in when talking about you and him. It made you stutter in more ways than one.

You sighed, staring at him for a minute. Your heart ached. You loved that Barty cared, albeit too much sometimes, but his obsession with proving himself, with protecting what he thought was his, was going to destroy him. You could see the cracks forming already.

“Come with me,” you said quietly, pulling on his arm again. This was not a conversation to be had here, not with a dozen of already too curious eyes watching. You needed to get him away, alone, where he could let down his guard fully and you could hopefully talk some sense into him.

His gaze flickered around the room, but he didn't put up a fight, he never did with you about these things. “Fine,” he muttered, letting you guide him out of the common room.

The hallways of Hogwarts were mostly deserted at this hour. The faint echo of your footsteps bounced off the stone walls as you led him down the stairs to a more secluded corner near the dungeons, where the stone was colder and the shadows thicker. Barty, as always, followed with a mix of curiosity and defiance in his eyes, the corners of his mouth still turned up in that maddening half-smile.

Once you were out of earshot from any stragglers, you stopped and turned to him. 

“Let me see,” you said, reaching for his hand.

Barty raised an eyebrow, but didn’t pull away as you gently lifted his bruised knuckles toward the dim light of a torch. The skin was split in a couple of places, dried blood smeared along his fingers. You swallowed the knot of worry in your throat, your thumb brushing against the cuts.

“What did he say?” you asked quietly.

“Doesn’t matter.” 

“It matters to me,” you insisted, not looking up from his hand.

He sighed, his free hand coming up to run through his dishevelled hair. “Something about my father. About how I’m ‘just like him,’ bound to be a disappointment. Then he said something about you. Called you…” He trailed off, anger clearly still knocked fully out of him. “Well, I don’t think I need to repeat that.”

Your stomach twisted. Avery was known for being a bully, but dragging you into it, using Barty’s relationship with you as some kind of twisted insult, was beyond cruel. Not to mention, beyond stupid.

No wonder Barty had reacted the way he did.

You stopped your inspection of his hand, instead interlacing your fingers with his as you leaned back against the cold stone wall. “You can’t keep doing this, Barty,” you repeated, your voice softer now, the fight draining out of you. “Don’t get me wrong, I understand, really I do. But you can’t just… lose yourself every time someone says something cruel.”

He stepped closer, his intense gaze locking onto yours. “I’m not losing myself,” he said, his voice low, the words a steady pulse of loyalty. “I’m doing what’s necessary. What no one else will do. I’m keeping us safe.”

You shook your head, blinking back the frustration building in your chest. “And what if next time, it’s not just a duel? What if next time you really hurt someone and get in serious trouble for once? Or, gods forbid, they hurt you?”

Barty laughed, a sharp, bitter sound. “They can try. But they’ll have to be a hell of a lot smarter than Avery.”

“That’s not the point!” you snapped, pushing off the wall and closing the space between you. You grabbed the front of his shirt, your fingers tangling in the fabric. “You’re going to get yourself killed one day, and I can’t–” Your voice cracked, the weight of your worry pressing down on you. “I can’t stand it.”

His smile faltered, and you saw the flicker of vulnerability in his eyes. It was brief, but it was there, like a flash of lightning in a storm, gone before you could fully grasp it. 

His hands moved to your wrists, gently prying your fingers away from his shirt, but he didn’t let go. Instead, he held your hands in his against his chest, his thumb brushing against your skin in slow circles, grounding you in the moment.

“You worry too much,” he murmured, his voice softer now, as though the fight in him had dulled with the weight of your concern. “I know what I’m doing.”

“You think you do, but you don’t,” you whispered back, your voice almost breaking. “You think throwing yourself into danger is some kind of answer, that it’ll make you feel something, or prove something– either to them, or to yourself. I don’t know, but one day, Barty, it’s going to be too much, and you–”

You cut yourself off, biting down on your lip to keep your voice from shaking. You weren’t sure how to finish that sentence. Thoughts often consumed you of a world where Barty’s recklessness finally caught up to him, your own unhealthy way of coping with your feelings for him. He had his fists, you had your thoughts, and you both had your spirals. The thought of losing him scared you more than anything else.

His fingers tightened around yours, and his eyes flicked madly between yours and your lip you realised had quivered ever so slightly. For a moment, you thought he might agree, that he might actually take what you were saying to heart, but then that familiar smirk curled back up on his lips, and his mask slid into place again.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said, his voice low, smooth, with that edge of defiance you knew so well. “Not unless you’re coming with me.”

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding against your ribcage. The way he said it, like it was so simple, like the idea of you not being by his side was unthinkable, made your chest tighten. But it didn’t erase the fear that gnawed at your insides, the knowledge that Barty didn’t care about consequences in the same way you did. He only knew how to burn, and he didn’t care if he burned out in the process.

You took a breath, trying to steady yourself. “You can’t keep fighting for me, Barty. I don’t need–”

“Don’t,” he cut you off. His eyes flashed, something dangerous sparking behind them. “Don’t tell me I can’t fight for you. Don’t tell me to sit back and let people say whatever the hell they want. You are mine to protect, love, whether you like it or not.”

Your breath caught in your throat at his words. There it was again — that raw, possessive streak that ran through Barty like a current, so powerful it was almost overwhelming. The way he looked at you, like you were the one thing in the world that made sense to him, the one thing he could claim as his own, made your heart race. It wasn’t the first time he’d said something like this– something that hinted at what you both knew was there between you.

He never said “I love you,” never asked for anything, but this– this was his way of showing it. He’d destroy anything, anyone, who threatened what was his.

“I am,” you relented softly. “But I usually don’t need protecting. Not like this.”

Barty’s jaw clenched, and he pulled you closer, his forehead resting against yours. His breath was warm against your skin, the scent of smoke still clinging to him.

“Maybe not,” he murmured, his voice so low it was almost a growl. “But I need to protect you. Please understand.”

You froze at that, blinking up at him. His eyes were locked onto yours, and for once, there was no smirk, no playful deflection. Just raw, unfiltered passion. You could see the truth of it there, in the way his fingers held yours so tightly, like he was afraid to let go. 

In his eyes, you understood this part of him more closely. This was the only thing that made him feel like he was in control, like he had some kind of power over the chaos in his life. His father’s expectations, the pressure to be perfect, the constant disappointment looming over him. It all faded when he was with you. With you, he wasn’t a failure. He was needed because he was yours.

Heat rose in your cheeks, the air between you thick with unspoken words, unspoken feelings. His thumb traced the inside of your wrist, sending shivers up your arm. You closed your eyes, trying to find the words, but they stuck in your throat. 

“Barty,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “I… I do understand. But for the same reason, I need you to be safe.”

He swallowed and nodded briefly, his hair falling into his eyes, and consequently yours, black and green strands filling your vision. You laughed a bit, tension clearing for half a second, as you freed one of your hands to push his hair away. You let your hand trail down to ghost across his cheek and jaw.

“Stop treating yourself like you don’t matter,” you whispered.

Whatever remnants of a self-assured smile he had clung to were wiped from his face. He just stared at you, his eyes wide, like he didn’t know what to say. Slowly, as if he was unaware his body was moving, his shoulders slumped, and he leaned further into you, allowing the wall you were leaned against to keep you both upright.

He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. Yet you could read his lips – a soft do I? – and you let your hand hold his jaw more securely, as you whispered, “You do, Barty. You do. To me.”

Barty didn’t look at you. His jaw was clenched, his eyes staring down at the stone floor as if it held the answers to everything. For a moment, you thought he might pull away again, retreat behind that mask of bravado and chaos that he wore so well, but then, slowly, he lifted his gaze to meet yours, and the raw pain in his eyes nearly took your breath away.

“You really are all I have,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “If I lose you because of some tosser–”

“You won’t,” you cut him off, flattening your other hand over his heart, feeling the rapid thud of his heartbeat beneath your fingers. “You won’t lose me, Barty. I’m not going anywhere. And neither will you, because I’m not letting you. Wreak havoc as much as you please, but I beg you to be careful.”

Barty’s eyes softened, and he mustered a small smile for you, the one you loved the most. “Well, you know I love it when you beg,” he teased, smile widening when you rolled your eyes and joke scoffed at him. You couldn’t hide your grin – exactly what he was aiming for.

“Very funny, Junior, but I do mean it.”

“I know you do,” he whispered, closing his eyes as he leaned into your touch. Then, so quiet you almost didn’t hear it: “I’m sorry.”

Before he could say another word, you shook your head, humming in disagreement. “Don’t apologise, love, not for caring.”

“No, no. Just sorry for worrying you, s’all.” His eyes remained shut, and your heart ached in acknowledgement of how hard that must be for him to say.

“All I need you to do is be a bit more careful in your chaos and mischief, ‘kay?” You moved your face tentatively closer to his, admiring his features when his guard is down.

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied, opening his eyes to look into yours with a small smile playing across his lips. His hands came up to cup your face, his thumb brushing gently against your cheek.

“You drive me crazy, you know that?” he muttered, his voice a mix of frustration and affection. “I don’t know what to do with you.”

“You don’t have to do anything,” you whispered, your heart pounding in your chest. “Just… stay with me.”

For a moment, there was silence. The flicker of the torchlight cast long shadows on Barty’s face, highlighting the vulnerability in his eyes, the way his lips parted like he was about to say something but couldn’t quite bring himself to.

His hands were still on your face, warm and grounding, and you leaned into his touch, feeling the heat of him against your skin. Your nose barely brushed his as you did, and you could swear his breath hitched. With so much raw emotion in the air between you, you let your heart dictate your actions, and you closed the small gap between you, kissing him tentatively.

It was far from the first kiss you and Barty shared, but it was much softer than the others. This was not a drunken party kiss, neither of you were aiming for distraction or entertainment. It felt oddly pure as he kissed you back passionately, but slowly, allowing it to hang between you. This was him letting you in, letting himself be intimate and vulnerable.

“I’ll stay with you,” Barty finally whispered once you separated ever so slightly, his voice so low it was barely audible. “Always.”

He said it with such conviction, such raw honesty, that you knew he meant it. The knot of anxiety that had rested strongly in your chest loosened at his words, reassurance and safety washing over you. 

“Then stop fighting like you’ve got nothing left to lose,” you said softly, your fingers tracing along his neck. “Because you have me, and I'm not letting you go.”

“I have you,” he repeated, looking as if he was deep in thought. His hands tightened on your face, expression hardening for a moment. 

“I want you to know that I’m not on some ego power trip, I’m not like that.” He trailed off, his brow furrowing as if he couldn’t quite find the right words. “It’s about making sure they know I’m not weak. That we’re not weak. It makes me feel, I don’t know… safer.”

You pulled back just enough to look into his eyes, smiling to reassure him. “I know you’re not. You’re… scared, which probably feels even worse. But we are okay, we’re fine.”

He swallowed hard, his eyes flickering with something – doubt, maybe, or fear. It was rare to see him uncertain, for a boy who usually lived in absolutes and extremes. You knew how hard it was for him to let anyone see the cracks in his armour, even you, but there was a part of him, the part that clung to you like you were his lifeline, that wanted to believe you. The part you needed to foster.

He let out a shaky breath, nodding slightly again, and for a moment, you both just stood there, the tension between you shifting into something more intimate. His hands slid down from your face to rest on your shoulders, then your waist, pulling you impossibly closer, entirely flush against one another.

“I’m not scared,” he muttered, though his voice lacked its usual conviction. It was like he was speaking to himself more than you.

You smiled faintly, shaking your head. “Liar.”

A huff of laughter escaped his lips, though it was tinged with exhaustion. “Maybe a little,” he admitted, his tone softening in a way it rarely did with anyone but you. “Can you blame me?”

“I never blame you, love.” You leaned down to rest your head against his shoulder, feeling his breathing move you. He hummed at that, but didn't move to say anything else.

“I don’t need you to be perfect, Barty,” you whispered, playing with his hair. “I just need you to stop tearing yourself apart. I just need you to let me care for you like you care for me.”

His arms tightened around you, and you could feel the tension in his muscles, the way he was still fighting some internal battle you couldn’t fully understand.

“You make it sound so easy,” he murmured, his lips brushing the top of your head.

“It’s not,” you said quietly, your fingers tracing lazy patterns along his back. “But you don’t have to do it alone.”

Barty was silent for a long time, his arms still wrapped around you, his breath slow and steady against your hair. You could feel the weight of his emotions pressing down on him, the years of anger and frustration and fear that he’d carried with him for so long. Then, you felt him press a hard kiss to the crown of your head.

“You’re the only thing that makes me feel like… like I’m not falling apart,” he admitted, his words barely above a whisper. Your heart clenched at his confession, and you lifted your head to look up at him. 

“You’re not falling apart,” you said softly, your hand coming up to cup his cheek. “Not while I’m here, I won’t let you.”

Barty’s eyes flickered with something you couldn’t quite name, and before you could react, his lips were on yours again, soft, tentative, but full of the intensity you had come to expect from him. His hands gripped your waist, pulling you closer, and you could feel the raw desperation in his kiss, the way he was clinging to you like you were the only thing keeping him grounded.

When his lips left yours, his face barely moved, noses still touching and his breath fanning your face. The both of you stood breathing heavily in the quiet hallway, and you came to realise how grateful you should be no one had walked past yet. His eyes searched yours, as if looking for some kind of confirmation that you were still there, that you hadn’t disappeared.

Barty’s lips curled into a small, tired smile, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you saw a flicker of peace in his eyes.

“I’ll be good. Just… stay with me,” he murmured, his voice barely audible.

You smiled softly, your thumb brushing against his cheek. “Always.”

[avocado-writing]

Companions reacting to Tav telling them they love them right in the middle(or after) a fight?? Like Tav is just so in awe of seeing em in action<3

oh! So sweet! Absolutely, here you go anon - writing as if you’ve seen them do something magnificent in battle & are so overcome with love that you have no choice but to blurt it out! (some stuff under a cut for being a bit NSFW LMAO) plus mentions of blood & violence

Astarion

stabs someone attacking you from out of the darkness with such efficiency they’re dead before they hit the ground

you’re blown away by the bloodlust and fury in his eyes - how DARE someone try to hurt you?

”I love you,” you choke out, wide-eyed and trembling from fear and emotion.

he’s shocked, but reaches over to give you a quick and bloody kiss before stabbing someone approaching behind you and urging you to get back to the fight

tells you later it was very silly to be distracting yourselves like that… but he does appreciate it nonetheless 😌

Wyll

we’ve seen the way he’s introduced in game, we know he’s a fan of some showmanship

you see him deal with three opponents at once, Eldritch Blasts in one hand and rapier in the other, and shout that you love him almost instinctively

when he finishes seeing them off he leaps across the battlefield, spins you, and gives you a fiery kiss before darting back up to block another sword

you feel like you’ve had the air stolen from your lungs but quickly manage to recalibrate yourself - you have a fight to win!

you can’t help stealing glances at his fine form for the rest of the battle though 😏

Gale

we know canonically he gets turned on from watching you fight.

you yell out that you love him after seeing him sling the coolest Fireball? he’s putty in your hands afterwards.

so desperate, kissing you, begging for your hands to be all over him

“you are so wonderful, my heart… to see you in battle… it set every inch of me aflame…”

gets you into a routine of quickies after battle bc the two of you are fired up. neither of you mind delaying your adventure to fuck rough and fast. the rest of the party… could do without that.

Karlach

is busy raging and does NOT hear you lol

roars in response but that could just be a normal battle roar when it comes to her tbf

she finds you afterwards though, a little sheepish, and is like “oh erm did you say you loved me mid-battle?”

”yes! you looked so cool cleaving that dude in half karlach, I was a bit swept up…”

her face goes bright(er) red and she actually giggles before pulling you into a kiss

“things like that make this all worthwhile, solider. I love you too.”

Shadowheart

you’re dying. she floods you with a cure wounds so powerful it starts your heart again and also cures, like, an unrelated ache in your hip too, lol

you look up at her, bathed in the blood of battle, and she is like an angel sent from the heavens

“I love you” you manage to croak out from cracked lips

“I know,” she says, utterly unfazed, and then pushes you to your feet to keep on fighting

does give you a sweet smooch after battle though, to let you know she appreciated it 😌

Lae’zel

“tsk’va! there is a time and a place for this!”

she swings her sword and cuts a man’s head clean off, showering you both in a rain of warm blood, and you’re enchanted with her.

has to fight people off from wounding you because you’re so distracted oops

afterwards tells you that you cannot afford to be so absent-minded in battle… but does hold you close and rest her forehead to yours, allowing a moment of connected closeness between you ❤️

Halsin

you confess it when you see him bear out and start ripping people into pieces.

he is just… incredible. all raw power and brilliance.

you shout your love over to him and the bear roars before taking the head off of a zombie in one bite

always fights nearby you anyway, but will make an effort to get closer so he can hear your words of affection better!

plods over to you in wildshape afterwards and nuzzles into you, huffing happily when you bury your hands in his fur and give him a scratch 💕

Minthara

her blade is full of the might of her god, and she is going to use it to sunder her opponents.

you’re dazzled, in utter awe when she kills a fiend with a single blow from her sword

you can’t help the words falling from your lips.

she lifts her shield to block a blow from falling on you, and in its shade she gives you a kiss and says one word:

”good.”

[gtgbabie0]

hi beautiful! could you do pre-crash!lottie head cannons similar to your wildness!lottie one? thank you! :)💐

⋆⁺ ✮⋆⁺ Pre-Crash!Lottie Matthews x Reader

synopsis: {relationship headcannons after getting rescued from the wilderness} warnings: 18+ at the end.

AN// so sorry this took months, I hit a bit of a mental block. hope you enjoy <3 we will all ignore that I mixed up post and pre here— I can’t anymore.

♡︎ The pair of you were inseparable out in the wilderness, attached to the hip, then you got rescued, and things took a complete one-eighty for both the better and the worse.

♡︎ You had tired to desperately to stay with her, to stop them from taking her away but you were only met with a bunch of legal jargon that made little to no sense to your already fragile mind— instead you made a promise for both your sakes to get better so hopefully you’ll see her once again.

“It’ll be okay Lot— we’ll be okay.” You murmur the same words as she did to you, hands clasped tightly around her own as if to tether yourself to her. Lottie wouldn’t blink so much, let alone talk, not even a peep. “I’ll write to you every day,” and before she was whisked away, her fingers tightened the tiniest bit around your palm— a feeling that lingered for months.

♡︎ Lottie would read and reread those letters almost every single day and in return you’d get a few replies throughout the months telling you all about her week and such— a back and forth of longing, all those scribbled, “I miss yous” “I love yous” the paragraphs where she’d describe how desperately she wanted to see you, hug you and all the things she wanted to do when she was released. It gave you the strength to keep up with your own therapy and umpteen doctor appointments.

♡︎ Seeing you for the first time in months nearly took the poor girl out— hell, it almost brought you to your knees. Watching her rush over to you, dropping her bag and throwing her arms around your shoulder as if she was finally coming home after a long trip.

“You’re here, you really came,” and despite everything, it was still her. The same girl who’d paint your nails and do your makeup, who’d hold your pinky beneath tables and admire you from across the classroom. “Course I am, I promised.” You only dare to pull back an inch, hands cupping her face as she stares up at you with deep, brown, glossy eyes.

♡︎ Lottie found it really hard to settle in at first, she would have bad days like anyone— but sometimes these days would be really bad, often turning to weeks depending on the circumstances.

♡︎ There were times when she wouldn’t talk, words wedged in the back of her throat, her face just a blank expression, like she was light years away— swept up in her own mind. You always kept close to her, gently brushing your fingertips along the back of her hand to let her know you were still there, softly whispering reassuring words to her. Then, eventually, you’d get a small smile or she’d wordlessly reach out for you, slowly coming back to reality.

“Oh, there she is.” you tease her at the sight of her smile widening at your tender touch, although there was relief in your eyes that was unmissable, and she’d respond with a soft, “I never left.”

♡︎ You would learn her triggers quickly— straying away from loud noises and any sudden movements or anything else that might cause her to retreat back into herself.

♡︎ Lottie’s medication kept her afloat for the most part, although it didn’t prevent nightmares that felt a little too familiar. Warped memories that have been engraved into her mind, coming back to haunt her until she’s jostling from her sleep with a ragged, almost pained gasp— a noise just shy of a scream that would wake you immediately.

“Hey, Lottie— hey, hey.” your tone slightly rough from sleep as you slowly push yourself up, hands gently reaching out to cup her teary face, grounding her. “You’re okay, you’re safe, Lot.” you would try to soothe her, wiping away her tears and guiding her breaths as she clings to you with a sob. “You’re home, baby, you’re home.”

♡︎ Those nights were spent watching late-night television, holding her close to you and playing with her hair until she either fell back asleep or the sun rose.

♡︎ She would feel awful about keeping you up at ungodly hours of the night because her mind decided to take an unwanted trip down memory lane.

“You can go back to sleep, I’ll be fine,” she murmurs, face tucked beneath your chin, words muffled against your collarbones as her arms tighten around you. “Not until you’re okay,” and Lottie knew it was a losing argument; you were stubborn when it came to her.

♡︎ Pampering was a must— whether it be morning or night or the whole day. Sometimes the pair of you just needed the rejuvenating and what better way to do so then to spend hours looking after each other.

“You’re so pretty,” Lottie's voice was just shy of a whisper as her fingertips ever so gently caressing the apple of your cheeks. “Yeah, even with this ridiculous face mask on?” You smirk, and she replies with an eager nod, leaning forwards to steal a kiss from your lips. “Mhm, especially with the face mask on, honey.”

♡︎ Lottie loves to keep busy with you in any and all ways possible— all that time out in the wilderness made you forget the fun parts of life like baking together, arts and craft nights, fruit picking during the summer and going to the local pumpkin patch during the autumn. She had a list of all the things she wanted to do written in her journal.

“I’m never taking it off.” Lottie beams, her deep brown eyes watching you gently clasp the bracelet you had made around her wrist— a perfect fit. “Thank you, baby.” She’s all giddy, and it makes you giddy as she leans over to press a kiss to your cheek.

♡18+ from this point♡

♡︎ It would take a while for Lottie to be comfortable getting intimate again after everything she had been through— not to mention her medication affects her sex drive.

♡ ︎Lottie enjoys it slow and loving— open-mouthed kisses along her jaw and neck and tender hands tracing over her curves, really gets her going— after all she loves to be adored.

“I’ve got you, just relax f’me.” your words muffled into the crook of her neck as you brush a lingering kiss against the underside of her jaw— her hands grasping at your shirt, unable to stop herself from moaning. “Mm, please— I want you closer.” her back arches up into your touch as your mouth descends her body.

♡ You often took the lead to begin with, but it was she who was in full control— you were at her every command and she trusted you completely, trust was a really big thing for Lottie.

♡ On those nights where one of you would wake up from a terrible nightmare and needed to be close— to feel the thrum of the others' steady heartbeat and the heat of skin against skin, you would bathe together— that’s how you’d both come to find a deep appreciation for it. You would buy bath soaks and oils, all that jazz, just for those special occasions.

“Pretty girl.” Lottie's voice was as soft as silk, her arms wrapped around your waist as she sits behind you in the bathtub— her face pressed into the crook of your neck, kissing along the dewy skin of your shoulder. “How’re you feeling now?” her question is met with a small whimpering noise from the back of your throat as you lie back against her chest, her hand slipping between your thighs. “I’m here, baby, just relax.”

♡ Once she was more comfortable, she wouldn’t mind initiating things, wanting to make you feel just as good as you made her feel— it wasn’t a hard job considering she remembered your body like the back of her hand, where to kiss and push and bite.

♡ Experimenting with Lottie was fun— a shock at first when she suddenly came to you one night all shy and red in the cheeks, stuttering, but once she explained, you were all in, and eventually this left you with quite a nice collection of vibrators and strap-ons.

♡ Lottie's strap game is crazy— like in the mind-numbing type of way that leaves you feeling her inside you for days after. And she’s so vocal too, whether she’s giving or receiving. It always leaves you aching for more of her.

“There you go pretty girl, take it all f’me.” or "Such a greedy girl, taking me so deep, huh?" as she’s fucking you into the mattress, hands grasping your hips, moaning like she can feel you cum around her strap. I need her.

[hoseoksluna]

PRACTICE | jjk

pairing: dom!jungkook x reader

genre: smut; fluff

word count: 4.9k

summary: you make jungkook proud by practicing what he taught you.

warnings: jungkook smiling and being all dominant!!!, also manly as fuck, use of his korean name cuz it's hot, masturbation, reader is horny and just a girl!!, biker mask (gasp), edging, orgasm denial, oral sex (f. receiving), dom/sub dynamics, squirting, desperation, porn, use of a sex toy, brief nipple play, spanking, bratty behavior <3, degradation, praise, the beauty of cumming together, mentions of sex, aftercare

note: it's entirely jungkook's fault that i wrote this bc he made me h word. i hope you enjoy the very first of the many smutty one shots i'm planning to write!! i had the time of my life writing this, imagining 3D!jungkook cuz he's just so delicious there. my weakness. fuck my life!! pls let me know what you think <3 like and comment (reblogs r very useful but i won't pressure u angel). love you!!

side note: i rly fucking miss jungkook. that's all. byebye

Stars fill your vision as your hand works wonders between the softness of your legs. You are fucked. Oh so deliciously, majestically and colossally fucked. And you whimper once the wave of that pleasure you burn for unfolds within your body. Arch your back. Roll your hips. Huff and puff until you near your breaking point. Then you lift your hand. 

The surge ebbs away and you sink your teeth into your puffy bottom lip, desperation scorching each and every perimeter of your skin.

You enjoy this. The smug on your face couldn’t be wiped off even if you tried. You've been going at this for a dozen of minutes, sitting on your dark green couch with your legs spread, one hand rubbing circles on your needy bundle of nerves, the other gripping your phone with all its might, how it hasn’t cramped yet is beyond you, as it plays a dirty porn that does very little to quench your thirst. Your closest friend for the time being, have been ‘for the time being’ for much longer than you care to admit, a small pink vibrator Pinkie, keeps you company beside you while you swallow every grunt and whimper the couple in the video makes. It's turned off, however. Resting in the shadow of the threatening calamite that your shaking thighs are. You can't edge yourself with it when you're this fucked, so deeply lost in the rosy maze of lust. You would have to keep the head on your clit for merely a second, otherwise you'd be coming, and you'd be coming fast but not very hard. And where’s the fun in that? It still keeps you thirsty, your insides begging you again and again for another hit of dopamine, for just one drop of cum. Well, your pussy mainly.

It’s a persistent problem for you. You get horny, you touch yourself and you come under two minutes or less. The hit so small in quantity, so weak in quality that you inescapably need more than one round to be satisfied. The situation is even more problematic when you get down to it with your boyfriend. It doesn’t matter much when you’re on the receiving end; you enjoy yourself, you look forward to his dick splitting you open, so it just cuts time. Although it does matter when he fucks you like the man he is. You clamp down on him, and he comes as fast as you do. You can’t help it. You’re so enamored with him, with his masculinity and his dominance, it burns your body alive. Who are you to tell your body no? It’s impossible. He’s impossible, and absolutely irresistible. Though you wish you could get lost in the pleasure, and you truly do each time you have sex, and it gets unfairly swept away from you. You’re just a thirsty girl. This unjust treatment pisses you off.

You opened up to your boyfriend about this and he laughed in your face, stroking your cheek. Told you it’s what he loves about you and you just rolled your eyes, dismissing it. Then he took your hand and sat you down again, offering you a solution that changed your life. For the worst at first, for the better the more you did it.

He suggested you try edging yourself when you play with your pussy. He showed you the ropes the first time, guiding you through a long process of denied orgasms, and you wanted to strangle him. You had to lift your hand when he said so, otherwise you were getting spanked. The joke was on him because you enjoyed the harsh sting, the roughness of his palm on your skin. But then it was him who was laughing when he pinned your arms above your head and confiscated your pleasure. You squirmed. Whined. Waited. Then he fingered you and you came so hard you saw stars, the orgasm just kept going and going. You were satisfied after one round. Problem fixed.

“Practice it until your body learns,” he had told you and you almost came again.

What a man.

The memory of this teaching lesson is what got you thirsty right now, actually. 

You pay attention to the way the guy in the video squishes the tits of the lucky girl in the video and fucks them with his cock. You moan, lowering your fingers to your clit again and starting a series of slow circles. Your fingers are slippery from your leaking essence and the sweat on your folds from your marvelous torment, and it turns you on even more. You feel your orgasm coming, despite your pace, and you eat your fist in exasperation. Should you say fuck it and finally make yourself come? You hear the order uttered by your boyfriend in the back of your head, remember how long he told you to edge for that one time, and you want to make him proud (you do!), but then the girl licks at the slit of his cock and you clench around nothing. You want that so bad and you groan, anger and desperation creating something so sinful, so unhinged inside of you.

Resuming your movement on your bud, you pick up the pace because fuck it, you can’t take it anymore. The pressure, the anticipation of chasing after what you desire is so sweet and it fills you with energy and giddiness. Fuck jogging, now you're sprinting, clenching your muscles, nearing closer and closer to the finish line. You lift your knees, riding your hand, moans spilling from your mouth. You'd come right on the spot if it wasn't for the ding of a sudden text message snapping you out of your daze.

Your heart thuds in your chest. Fuck, did you not turn on 'do not disturb'?

koo: I'm here

You stare at the notification in disbelief. Beneath it, the guy is fucking the girl's throat. You screech, burying your face in your hands. What is your boyfriend doing here so early? You aren't supposed to see each other until later tonight, or are you forgetting something? Your mind is spinning, another denied orgasm taking a toll on you. Sighing, you slip your legs into your panties and your plush pajama pants, your feet finding their comfort in your fluffy slippers. Since he's here, he's gonna make himself extremely useful, you decide, putting on your warm bathrobe with Mickey Mouse on it and grabbing your keys.

As you descend the stairs from your apartment, the sticky wetness between your legs makes you uncomfortable. Your eyebrows furrow in anger. Does a girl really have to suffer in order to reach a mind-blowing orgasm these days? You scoff to yourself, sinking your key into the lock of the door to the main building. The key doesn't budge, though, and it almost makes you punch that fucking door. The lock has been sporadically working and not working for months, hence why the door needs to stay locked properly at all times, and nobody has so far taken the time to call someone to repair it. You kick the door with your knee and you hear a laugh behind it. You recognize it belongs to your boyfriend and you smile to yourself, finding the sweet sound stupidly cute. Your hand reaches for the key again and you turn it. To your surprise, the lock doesn't fuck around and actually lets you see your boyfriend.

Jeongguk is standing beside his motorcycle, black helmet under his armpit. Your eyes widen when they discover his face is hidden under a biker mask of the same color. You haven’t seen him with his bike in quite some while. He prefers to drive you around in his car lately. It’s winter after all. He keeps you warm, sneaks his fingers between your legs, rubs your pussy through your jeans to tease you because he likes it when you’re needy for the rest of the evening. Oh, and you eat there so icicles don’t hang from your hands. Food, that is. You get it.

It’s a wonderful surprise, nonetheless. Only his orbs and eyebrows are visible, his pouty mouth creates shapes on the mask that almost causes you to see stars again. Yeah, you think you could come like this, staring at his tall figure dressed in a puffer jacket and gray baggy jeans laying dangerously low on his hips. Even though you know how big his dick is, the size of them makes him appear even bigger and you salivate. Your pussy drools, too. You're about to get on your knees right now, you don't care.

"Looks like I'm gonna have to fix that fucking lock myself," Jeongguk remarks.

Oh, fuck. He's so manly.

Just one suck. Fuck, please. Just one.

You're going to scrape your fucking knees on the ground for everyone to see, you genuinely don't care. He deserves it for looking like that, for acting like such a man.

Your clit gains a heartbeat (again) and you blink up at him, desperation once again unfurling its flames under your skin. You smile behind the pain, finding the whole situation completely ridiculous now.

"I'd be grateful," you purr and Jeongguk walks towards you, smiling like the little shit he is, helmet still under his armpit. You lift the hem of his mask to reveal his delicious lips, piercing-less. You kiss him, moonstruck. "I'm tired of this shitty lock."

Jeongguk nods. "Noted." Then he kisses you again. "It was funny how you kicked it."

You laugh. He takes off the mask entirely and you both walk up the stairs to your apartment, though a pang of disappointment hangs onto your heart. You wish he kept the mask on. It was nonsensically hot to you. A lightbulb flares to life in your mind abruptly and you hide your smirk beneath the curtain of your hair.

Yeah, you’re going to make him wear it as you suck him dry.

Your giddiness extends to another level and you hurriedly walk up the rest of the stairs to your apartment, your butt jiggling under your thick robe.

Jeongguk walks in like he owns the place. He sets his helmet on the kitchen island and his mask right beside it. You watch as he empties out his pockets. Wallet, phone, keys, a pack of cigarettes and a purple lighter. Leaning over, he hangs his winter jacket on one of the barstools. His back muscles ripple under his oversized black T-shirt with each movement of his arms. What steals your attention, however, is the sliver of skin that he unwittingly lets you see as he fixes his jeans to rest a little higher on his hips. 

White Calvins. 

Oh, yes. 

The dip of his spine on his lower back.

You lick your lips.

The smallness of his waist that grows into such a vulgar broadness of his shoulders. 

Fuck, you do everything you can to not bite onto your finger; instead you opt to hide your drool beneath your hand as you continue to wait behind him, tracing your lower lip with the acrylic nail on your thumb, diabolical with your stand and your plan. Crossed arms, needy pussy and all.

What a man.

What a fucking man.

You squeeze your thighs together.

When he turns away from the kitchen, you leap to the counter. You snatch the mask and gaze at it lovingly. Such an innocent thing, and it made you this hot and bothered. You shake your head at the bizarreness of it all, but your smile remains.

"What the fuck were you doing here?"

You gasp at the sternness in his tone, hiding the mask under your armpit similarly like he did with his helmet downstairs. You don't understand where his abrupt austerity stems from, but it makes your legs wobbly, so much that you bump into him as you hurry to see what he sees, grabbing his arm as if to say sorry. And then your heart drops.

A round wet spot adorns your dark green couch, where you sat and pleasured yourself before he came. Your best friend Pinkie, sticky and lifeless, almost beams at you in mischief. A smile of your own begins to quiver on your lips before you burst into giggles, a tiny amount of shyness painting your cheeks with rosiness.

“I was practicing?” you answer truthfully, lilting your voice a little bit.

Jeongguk closes his eyes at your words, his lips forming a thin line. Hangs his head. Slouches in your grip. It is a stark contrast to how he entered your apartment. His breath quickens and you watch the raise and the fall of his chest. You realize this means only one thing.

"Are you crazy?" Jeongguk says, eyes still closed. "Do you even realize what you've just done to me?"

He finally looks at you and your heart drops further down your belly. Fire splashes around in his eyes, akin to yours. He straightens his posture, turning his body to face you. Feet spread apart, he crosses his arms across his chest. Veins prominent, muscles like strings oscillating on his forearm as he taps his fingers on his elbow.

Your weakness.

Fuck.

Your breath hitches in your throat.

"And what's this?" He points to what you stole from him. He doesn't take it from you.

You suddenly remember your plan. Being so absorbed in his masculine energy, you forgot everything. Even your own name. 

"Well, I had this idea," you start.

He hums in interest. Butterflies break havoc in your stomach.

"And what idea was that?" He cocks his head to the side, studying you.

You started, but you don't think you can finish. Not when you're so wet that you can feel your slick trickle out of the confines of your thin panties. Not when his stance makes you feel like you did something very bad and the next word that comes out of your mouth decides your punishment. Not when it thrills you this much.

Swallowing dryly, you avert your gaze. Do you say it or do you play dumb? Sweat prickles at the back of your neck, eyes falling to his crotch. Those cursed fucking jeans do a poor job of hiding his growing member and you tremble, itching to sink onto the hardwood floor, itching to palm him through the harsh fabric just to hear him hiss through his teeth. The impulse to do it, to simply be a brat and do what you want while he stares you down, fills your every vein, but you know better. Once you hit a nerve, Jeongguk doesn’t let you cum (at all) and you can’t sit on your bottom for a week. You can’t afford that right now.

You close your eyes and take a deep breath. You need your relief, and you need it desperately. You will behave if it means you’ll receive it from him.

"I was thinking," you mutter, fluttering your eyelashes open. “You could put this on while I make you feel good."

Nodding once, Jeongguk hums again. You feel the deep vibrations of his voice coursing down your body, starting from your cheeks. They warm them and paint them in pink, then they continue over the swell of your chest, leaving behind little pearls of sweat, until they reach your cunt. There they strengthen the pulse of your needy bud and you can’t take it anymore. You sigh audibly, hoping it prompts your boyfriend to do something. 

“Make me feel good how?” he questions you.

You look up at him. His eyes are lowered into slits, woozy from arousal. You truly did turn him on with the mere evidence of your self-indulgence. You buzz from this achievement, a puckish smirk appearing on your mouth. 

Jeongguk pries the mask away from your hold, keeps it in his grasp and with his other hand, he unravels the knot of your robe with his fingers, sliding it off your shoulders. He cocks his eyebrow at you, waiting for your answer.

Fuck it, you’re giving it your all. Anything to get fucked in the way you want, in the way you know he can give it to you.

“I get on my knees for you. Play with your tip, take you as far as I can until I choke on it, then I suck on your—“

He grabs your chin harshly and raises it to his level. That’s enough, he said with that gesture and you leak down your thighs. No matter how strongly the words, ‘can I finish my fucking sentence’ hangs off the top of your tongue, you remain quiet. Obedient.

He cups your pussy through your pajama pants with his other hand, inching closer to you until his figure swallows you. His soft moan reaches your ear once he discovers how slippery your pussy is against your silky underwear and your stomach flips. You, on the other hand, don’t feel much where you need him due to the thickness of the material. It adds to your frustration quite plenty, though. This what you get for being good? 

Inhaling deeply, he levels his eyesight with yours. “How many times did you come, hm?”

Your breath hitches and you lower your eyes, shyness caused from his dominance taking every bit of confidence you had left. His words blaze your insides—he knows you so well. He knows how obsessed you’ve become with playing with yourself ever since he told you to practice. Sometimes you win, sometimes you lose. The latter being more frequent, hence why you exerted yourself today. He knows this. For some reason it makes this moment even more intimate and stimulating for you. But you don’t let him know that. 

“What makes you think I lost this time?” you retort, the brattiness slipping through before you could control it.

His fingers aren’t doing nearly enough to give you the relief you seek and you whine, grinding your hips against his curious fingers. Much to your dismay, he still keeps his pressure light. Pretends to be blind to your desperation. You let out a huff of air, hooking your thumbs beneath the waistband of your pants, anger fueling you on.

You barely manage to pull it down before Jeongguk turns you around. He locks your arms in his grasp from behind, tugs the pants beneath the swell of your ass and smacks your cheek, leaving a rippling effect in its wake. He then grabs your face from behind to make you look at him. 

“Did I fucking ask you to take ‘em off?”

You’d come on the spot if you could. But you’re still angry.

“No, I asked you a simple question,” Jeongguk continues. “And I expect you to answer.”

You bite your lip and furrow your eyebrows. “Jeongguk, I’m so wet there’s a fucking puddle in my panties. I can’t take it anymore. Please, I need to come.”

Jeongguk raises his at your answer and hums lowly, grinding his hips into your ass and arching your back even further in this position. You moan distinctly at the feeling of his member, engorged and hard. 

Jeongguk lets go of your arms and presses you against him fully, lowering his hand to wrap his fingers around your throat, the other around your middle. You love it like this the most, cocooned in his embrace from behind—you can’t see him, but you can feel him, you can feel the firmness of his touch, the solidness of his body, and you know he’s there. 

“How many times?” he asks once again, more gently this time, lips tracing the shape of your ear. He rubs your belly to soothe you and you close your eyes, teeth sinking into your bottom lip. A smile, a mischievous one, much like the one your best friend Pinkie had, threatens to appear on your lips. He has turned into a soft dom for you and it makes you weak. So much that all you want to do right now is give him pleasure.

You begin to rotate your hips against him and he hisses, cursing under his breath. Yes, that’s precisely what you wanted to hear. You put more pressure into your movement and he slides your hand down your mound to stop you, his tongue coming to play with your ear.  Fuck, okay. You listen, transferring your teasing elsewhere.

“Zero,” you finally answer, figuring he deserves the reward.

Jeongguk grabs your shoulders and turns you around, pinching his eyebrows together. “Don’t believe you. There’s no fucking way you’d leave it wet like that without coming at least three—“

“I was about to come before you so rudely interrupted me.”

His eyes darken and you realize you fucked up.

He takes his hands off of you and starts walking, causing you to walk backwards to your couch. 

“My apologies.” He pushes you to sit down on the soiled spot, taking a seat right in front of you on the coffee table. “Don’t let me interrupt you any further. Please“—He hooks his fingers under your pajama pants along with your underwear and takes it off in one go—“continue. Make yourself come.”

You gulp. Fuck, if that isn’t the hottest thing you ever heard.

He scoots closer to you on the coffee table and extends your legs over his. You ogle him. The manspread, the tent in his pants, the serious look on his face. You slip your hand to your clit and start rubbing, your eyes closing as pleasure floods you. Finally. You moan, and you moan loudly. 

“Nuh-uh.”

You sigh before you open your eyes. There he goes, interrupting you again. A familiar buzzing fills your ears. 

You startle as the highest setting tickles your hand in an uncomfortable way. Jeongguk, wearing the mask now, wraps your hand around the vibrator and guides it to your clit, interlacing his fingers with yours in the process. Fuck, he did not just do that. You’re moaning before it even reaches you, your walls clenching around nothing.

“There you go,” he lifts his intense gaze from your pussy to your eyes. “Now come.”

And you do.

You squirt all over your intertwined hands, squirming uncontrollably while holding eye contact with him until he controls you, sliding his other free hand to your waist to hold you down. He moves the vibrator to your slit to give your puffy clit a break, collecting your juices. Then, another wave comes: Jeongguk slips the head back to your clit and presses down hard before quickly fixing a steady rhythm of going up and down. You’re just holding it, holding his hand. Taking the pleasure he gives you. Convulsing, clenching and screaming, coming so hard your eyes roll back—stars finally coming to stay.

Then, you’re pushing him away when overstimulation perfuses your body with a blunt pain. You close your legs. You thrash with yourself. But he’s stronger. The hand that was on your waist lifts up your bralette and uncovers your tits. The same fingers plunge into your mouth and you suck on them, calming down, earning an appreciative hum from him. He flicks your nipple, touches your breast, the nub deliciously rubbing against his rough palm. Pushes your other one to the mix so he can focus on both of your nipples at once, holds them like that as they bounce in his grip. You lift your pelvis, furiously riding the wave of an upcoming orgasm that will probably take you out.

You lose the sense of time and space when you come for the third time.

You’re gushing, leaking, bursting, both hands—yours and his—dripping wet with your dewiness. You think you’re levitating, but his firm touch grounds you, and when you open your eyes, Jeongguk is breathing hard. He’s watching you thoroughly; you can’t tell what he’s thinking, features still hidden by that mask. Your mind is empty, incapable of forming one coherent thought. You’re completely brainless. Fucked out.

Jeongguk gets on his knees and leans towards you. He tears his mask off, sweat pooling at his hairline.

“How pitiful,” he smiles. “So much for practicing.”

He gives you a filthy kiss full of tongue and you roll your body against his. His chest rubs against your nipples and it sends sparks of electricity through you. 

“You wouldn’t last. Not a chance.”

You groan into his mouth. He’s so close that his musky scent is intoxicating you, his T-shirt is wet and your core is pressed against the one part of his stomach that the cloth exposed. It’s so warm and soul-stirring to you. You whine from the overstimulation of it all, especially the degradation. 

“Jeongguk, I came so hard,” you tell him, coming up for some air.

He kisses your jaw. “I know. So fucking hot.” Takes his groans and presses them in the form of kisses into all the sensitive spots of your neck. “You made yourself come this hard, I’m proud.”

You moan. So moonstruck. So enamored. So satisfied.

Jeongguk lifts his head from the crook of your neck and grins at you. You reciprocate.

“That was so good,” you whisper and bite your lip, stroking his hair back. You find you’ve broken the skin already, but you don’t mind. “So, so good.”

His eyes drop to your mouth, then at the pearls of your pleasure on your chest.

“So filthy. Need to clean you up.”

Your stomach flips. 

He laps them up, collecting them with his tongue. One at the top of your sternum, the middle of your breasts, the long dip on your stomach. Pearl after pearl, butterfly after butterly breaking havoc again in you. You’re swaying your hips before he even gets to your mound.

“Needy again? I haven’t finished here yet.”

A little, but not as desperately as before. You’re enjoying it. Feels as though you’re allowed to. And you tell him.

He smiles. Starts a series of open-mouthed kisses on your inner thigh. Sighs against your skin when you play with his hair, gently scratch his scalp with your manicured nails. Rubs your wet thighs, sucking the skin and biting it. Hard and soft, the blend of it. You’re on cloud nine.

“Gonna reward you,” he announces. You suck in your stomach, biting your lip. He touches your cunt and the digits just glide. Straight to your hole that needs his cum. “For doing such a good job. Fuck, you’re so wet.”

He rubs it in circles, teasing you. Watches your reaction. You throw your head back, moving your hips in tandem with the pads of his fingers. Soaked enough, he slips them into your mouth so you can taste yourself. You mewl. Sense his hot breath on your pussy. Sense him shifting in his spot erratically and you figure he’s grinding his hard cock against the couch. 

“My turn now.” 

He closes his puffy lips around your clit. Swirls the tip of his tongue around it. Merry go round, you throw your head back, enjoying the sensation. Then he puts pressure around the muscle and goes counterclockwise. Now you’re spinning, unable to stop the sounds, inter-threaded with his name, from slipping out of your mouth. Then he decides to tease you. Widens his laps of circles. Reaches your folds, makes them wetter. And it makes you feral, the waiting for the pleasure. You grip his hair, grinding into his face. His moans reach your ears again, and suddenly it’s too much. He sucks on your clit, and he sucks hard. Lifts your hips in the air and just ravages your cunt, licking up and swallowing all that you’re offering to him as he fucks his cock into the couch. 

He’s grunting, rapidly shaking his head from side to side. You’re obscenely loud. His thrusts quicken as do the skilled flicks of his tongue. It’s way too fucking much and you’re screaming, but you let him. You let him until he rams his hips for the last time, until he sucks so hard that your hearing sense leaves you for a moment, and you’re coming. And so is he. 

You don’t even know how long it takes before you fully come down, but you know one thing for sure. That when he stands up and you’re blessed with the sight of his unbuttoned jeans, his cock dripping with last drops of cum through his white (almost see-through) underwear, he deserves to be cleaned up by you just the same. 

You make grabby hands at him when he returns with wet wipes.

“What is it, baby?” He sinks to his knees in front of you, taking out the wipe to clean you properly. 

“Need you in my mouth. Please.” 

He laughs softly and you think that sound will be your demise. 

“You’re exhausted,” he tells you, wiping down your folds. “What you need is sleep.” 

You don’t have the strength to prove him wrong. You’re spent. 

He picks you up in his arms and takes you to your bed. He covers you in your fluffy blanket, knowing full well you hate to be under the duvet when you’re just napping. Tucks you in. Sits beside you. Brushes your hair back. Fixes the blanket so it rests under your chin, and not over your mouth. You watch him with droopy eyes as he does it all.

“Did so well today,” he murmurs. “But no overworking yourself so much next time, arasseo?”

You nod. “We came together again.” 

He traces the dimple on your cheek caused by your contended smile. Finds himself smiling too. “That’s just how our bodies work together,” he tells you, hovering his thumb over your bloodied lip so as to not hurt you. “Can’t be helped.” 

You nod again, warmth swarming in your chest. “I love it,” you admit. “I love you.”

Jeongguk presses a kiss into your hair. “No, I love you.”

“No.”

He shushes you. “Sleep well, baby,” he strokes you. Kisses you. Pets you. Can’t get enough. Hates to leave you. “My baby, my love, my girl.” 

You hum. Sleep slinks you away to its land, smile remaining on your mouth. 

Jeongguk returns to your living room and gets some cleaning supplies ready. Breaks a sweat making your dark green couch spotless. Takes a shower. Settles beside you on the bed. Cocoons you in his arms. Looks for you in dreamland.

© 2023 hoseoksluna, all rights reserved.

BACK to masterlist

[grogwrites]

Stranger - O.P. 81

Part One

part one • part two • part three

Summary: When someone returns to Oscar’s life after years apart, he has a hard time finding common ground with her to reconcile the feud between them. That is, until she signs on as a driver for the upcoming F1 season. Then he can’t seem to get her out of his mind.

Pairing: Oscar Piastri x Female OC

CW: Dual POV series, but part one is all in Oscar’s POV. Part one has some swearing, alcohol consumption, death of a parent which leads to OC becoming an orphan, a lot of angst. This series will contain a lot of angst, and some references to PTSD and death of a loved one—each topics very close to me personally. PTSD is a difficult thing to write and to read, so please take my warnings seriously before continuing on xx

A/N: this is part one in a three part mini series! As usual, I do not use YN on my page, so OC is a named character 😊

Word Count: 4.6k

* DISCLAIMER: I do not know any of the people in this fanfiction personally, these are all just the works of my imagination.

TWELVE YEARS AGO

The first time Oscar saw her was when he was eleven. The race tracks near his house were having a karting event for young drivers, so naturally, his parents signed him up. It was a windy December day, and Oscar’s frustration was at about a ten. He fidgeted with his race suit, as the new material scratched against his skin, overstimulating him with every slight movement that was made. She had been watching him, unbeknownst to Oscar, and made her way over.

“What are you doing?” The young girl demanded from him as he tugged at the collar of the suit. He furrowed his eyebrows at her. She was driving with the league below him, so she was younger by at least a few years. In eleven years old Oscar’s mind, he didn’t know what could’ve possibly possessed a second grader to antagonize a sixth grader. But he was annoyed at the scratchy lilt her that voice contained. He was at the age right now where girls were gross—she was gross.

“What’s it to you?” He barked back. “Don’t you have a race to worry about?” It shocked Oscar when she swept her hand forward, yanking his hand away from the zipper that was currently rubbing against his neck. What surprised him even more was the amount of strength in her tiny hand as her grip tightened around his wrist.

“Stop messing with it,” she hissed. “You’re going to make it worse, you know.” He ripped his arm out of her grasp, then sneered down at her. She had light blonde hair that could’ve been mistaken for white with how bright it was. It was tied back in a small ponytail that was draped over her shoulder—her eyes a vibrant blue, which seemed to accompany the bright pink racing suit she wore.

“You’re, like, what? Five?” Oscar mocked. “What do you know about karting?” The girl took a step back, as if to assess him—to study him. Even if she was younger, she had an overwhelming sense of authority. He shifted uncomfortably as her gaze burned holes through him. Her bossiness and straightforward nature intimidated him slightly. He had never been a confrontational person—he actually tried to avoid it at all costs, usually. If his friends knew some seven or eight year old was getting at him like this, he wouldn’t hear the end of it.

“I know I’m smart enough to wash a suit before wearing it for the first time,” she quipped. “Wearing a brand new suit without breaking in the material is stupid, moron.” Before Oscar could argue with the kid, she turned around and stomped back to her league. His eyes widened at the fact that she just blatantly insulted him. Moron? What normal person even used that term?

As the hours passed, Oscar found himself curious at who the fiery young girl was. After he finished his race, he found himself looking for her at the tracks. When he realized her league was up, he pushed his way towards the front of the crowd to watch her. His eyes eagerly scanned for her prominent pink suit, when he realized she was in the lead. She was fast, too. For being so young, the way she controlled the car was incredible—it was like she was a machine. The crowd seemed to think so as well, as each time she passed by, they were erupting in applause. One man in particular, was cheering like crazy. Oscar looked up, tapping on his arm. The man looked down to him, and smiled. He wore square-framed glasses that laid low on his nose. His hair was dirty blonde, and he wore a pink sweatshirt that correlated with her race suit.

“You won in the league earlier this morning!” The man happily observed. “Congratulations, Mr Piastri.” Oscar frowned.

“Who are you?” He asked.

“I’m Simon Nguyen,” the gentleman introduced. “I went to school with your mother, Nicole.” Oscar nodded slowly, ignoring what he said, then pointed to the track.

“Who is the girl in pink?” He questioned. The man, Simon, laughed at Oscar’s curiosity. He turned to the track again, where the girl sped past once more. He knelt down to his level, pointing to her.

“That is my daughter, Claire,” he explained. His voice was comforting. He spoke about her with so much pride. “She said she met you earlier. She has trouble with manners sometimes, but we’re working on it.”

Oscar turned with Simon to watch the race come to an end, with Claire leading the way. He wondered how he had never met her before at these events, or why his mom never mentioned Simon. But regardless of the questions that seemed to spiral in his head, all he knew was he wanted to be better than her. He hoped that he would get to race one day against her, and show that he knew what he was doing—especially since she seemed to think otherwise.

.

As Oscar hung the last ornament in the box on their tree, he heard the doorbell echo through their house. His sisters continued decorating with miscellaneous supplies such as garland or lights, while he climbed off the chair he stood on, hurrying towards the door. His dad was playing some soft Christmas music in the background, sorting through old photos by the fireplace. The smell of turkey lingered in the air. Christmas was Oscar’s favorite time of year, and he was excited to see who all would be joining them tonight. The Piastri’s hosted a great dinner every year on Christmas Eve—a family exclusive tradition.

“I got it, mom!” He called through the house. He quickly unlocked the door, then opened it. While he was expecting his grandparents or his cousins, he was quite taken aback seeing Simon and Claire standing there. Claire’s hair was down, and she wore a red velvety Christmas dress. She held on to a bag full of presents. Simon smiled.

“Hello again, Oscar,” he beamed. “You look nice.”

They weren’t family. They weren’t supposed to be here tonight. Oscar furrowed his eyebrows as he let go of the door handle.

“Mom!” Oscar called over his shoulder. “The Nguyen’s are here?” It was supposed to be a statement, but Oscar couldn’t hide his confusion very well. He didn’t know why they’d be here. Sure, Simon said he knew his mom, but he didn’t think it was well enough for them to come over for their family Christmas Eve. Claire would just ruin it, probably. She already has by being here.

His mom appeared quickly, and seemed to grow excited when she saw them. The rest of his family—his sisters and his dad—hurried in to say their hello’s. Claire even reciprocated, and ran towards his mom. Oscar’s chest grew hot with anger. Who were these people to just barge in on their traditions like this?

“Hi Claire Bear!” His mom exclaimed, engulfing the bratty girl in a hug. She picked her up, and pushed some of the hair out of her face. “You look beautiful, darling!” Claire was giggling as her arms wrapped around his mom’s neck, hugging her back. He had decided he’d seen enough, and hurried over to her.

“Mom who are they?” He blurted. “This is supposed to be family only.” Nicole laughed as she set Claire down again, then tussled his hair. She knelt down to look at him, and he felt guilty for being so rude. But at the same time, he felt like he had every right to be upset. Change didn’t suit him well.

“Simon is a very good friend of mine,” she explained gently. “They don’t have any other family, Oscar. They just moved here from South Korea, and I thought it would be nice that they joined us.” Oscar didn’t even know where South Korea was. He had fallen asleep during geography when they were learning about other countries. He watched as his mom stood up straight again.

“We met Oscar at the tracks a few weeks ago,” Simon commented. “He’s become quite good, Nicole. Not long until he makes his way to Formula 1, huh?”

Oscar’s rage suddenly dwindled at the stranger’s remarks. Now, he felt proud. He thought Oscar was good enough for Formula 1? His frown twisted into a smile as he watched his mom lead Simon into the kitchen to drop off their bags. His gaze lingered over to Claire. She folded her arms across her chest, staring back at him.

“We’re friends now,” she claimed confidently, taking a few steps towards him. “Our parents are friends, so that means we are.”

“That’s not how that works,” he scoffed. “But you’re still young, so you wouldn’t know.”

“You’re not much older,” she reminded him. Her arms fell to her sides, as she grabbed ahold of his wrist again. This time, with a much more gentle touch than she did at the tracks. “I brought something to show you. Your mom said you’d like it.” She turned, then marched the two of them into the living room where their bag full of presents sat. She let go of him, then knelt beside it. Oscar watched her intently as she rummaged through everything, when she pulled out two brand new remote control cars. His eyes widened. He had always wanted one, but his mom made him put it on his Christmas list. She found any excuse to not buy him one, despite his numerous attempts at asking for one.

“No way!” He exclaimed as she passed one to him. It was a shiny monster truck that had black and orange flames along the sides. His read THE DESTROYER, her’s read THE TERRORIZER. His eyebrows raised in amusement. “But girls don’t like these kinds of things.”

“Girls can like them too,” she remarked, as she flipped the switch to turn hers on. “Girls can like anything boys can, and boys can like anything girls can—just like how girls can race alongside boys, and boys can race alongside girls.”

Oscar had never really thought about it that way. He flipped the switch on his car, as her statement echoed in his mind. All of his friends at school were boys, so he didn’t really think about the fact that girls could like anything they liked. As they began racing their cars around the living room, he heard Claire laughing beside him. A grin flitted across his face, as he thought that maybe being friends with her wouldn’t be so bad.

.

FIVE YEARS AGO

It was raining outside. Oscar hated the rain, now. He figured Claire probably hated it just as much as he did, if not more. He was worried when she hadn’t cried all day—like all of her tears were gone, and replaced with a dormant, numb feeling in her heart. She exhaled next to him, as if she had been holding in a breath that she forgot about. He knew he should do something, or say something. But ultimately, he knew regardless of what he did or said, nothing would help. Simon was dead, and Claire was an orphan now.

The casket at the front of the church was closed. Oscar was grateful, because it made him sick to see Simon there—lifeless; he was always anything but. He quickly became a second father to him, much like how his parents became second parents for Claire. His mom told him yesterday that she would be living with them for a while, until her aunt could make it up from South Korea to take her back there. South Korea—away from him. He couldn’t really fathom not seeing her every day anymore. She had become so regular in his life and now she’s just…leaving. Just like how Simon was gone before any of them could blink.

The pastor droned on about how death is a celebration, when he heard Claire scoff beside him. He looked down at her, and saw a few tears prickling in the corners of her eyes. He tentatively reached out, taking her hand in his. He heard her catch a breath in her throat. She didn’t initially hold his in return, until he felt her nerves relax as her fingers curled around his hand. He gave hers a light squeeze, before looking towards the front again. He leaned over slightly.

“I’ll be celebrating when this funeral is over,” he whispered jokingly. This elicited a laugh from Claire—a genuine one—that made him smile. It was the first time he had heard her laugh in weeks since the car crash.

“You and me both,” she whispered in response, giving his hand a squeeze.

After the funeral and the burial, Oscar seemed to lose sight of Claire at the reception. He sat beside his parents and his sisters, as they all recounted memories of Simon and Claire. When his phone buzzed in his pocket, he didn’t even have to look to know who it was. Her nickname flashed across the screen.

Bear: where are you?

Oscar quickly excused himself from the table, then exited the reception hall. He wandered outside of the church, where Claire was sat on the sidewalk. It was still raining, so her hair and clothes were soaked. He wondered how long she had been out here, and worried she was going to get sick. She probably didn’t care about it, though. There wasn’t much she seemed to care about nowadays. He shrugged off his suit jacket, then wrapped it around her. He sat beside her.

“Life is a bitch,” she muttered. He was quiet, just being there to listen for now—in case she had anymore to say. She looked over to him. “I turned in my racing gear yesterday.”

Now he was officially worried. She was quitting racing? That was incredibly unlike her. No matter what was going on in her life, she always turned to the track to escape whatever was dragging her down. Now she was just…throwing it all away. She had plans to go into F3 with him—she was about to be signed, too.

“Why?” He finally spoke, though his singular word was strained. He hated seeing her so…lost. Claire was always so sure of herself—always so confident. And now she was here beside him just…defeated.

“What’s the point anymore?” She countered. “Dad taught me to race, Osc. He’s dead now. There isn’t much in South Korea for me to pursue for racing, so why bother?” In a weird way, he was relieved that her bluntness hadn’t completely dissipated despite the depression she was going through right now. Still, hearing her say the word ‘dead’ so nonchalantly felt a bit like a punch to the gut.

“Because you love it?” He suggested. He felt himself growing defensive. He couldn’t just sit and watch her ruin her own life. “Because it’s all you’ve ever known? Throwing it away because you feel this way now isn’t going to help you. It’s going to make things worse.”

“I can’t—“ she stopped, then sighed frustratedly. She carded a hand through her wet hair before continuing, “I can’t drive in the rain, Osc. Not when I know that dad died in the same conditions. He was a professional driver, and if he can’t withstand it then I’m scared I won’t be able to, either. I’m just scared.” She finally looked over at him, meeting his gaze. Oscar could’ve sworn that his heart was about to break seeing how much hurt was in her eyes right now. He wished he could take all of it away; anything to make her feel better.

“It’s okay to be scared,” he said gently, taking her hand again. “But fear has never stopped you before. You’re the most badass person I know, Bear. Why let fear control your life now, when you’ve never allowed it to do so before?”

That was when she started crying. For the first time in several days, she broke down. Oscar wasted no time pulling her in for a hug. She buried her face in the crook of his neck, as her whole body seemed to shake from the fit. He had never heard her cry this hard before, and it was difficult for him to keep his own composure. He blinked away his own tears as he softly rubbed her back.

“I’m so mad at the world,” she admitted in between sobs. “I don’t know what I did to deserve this.”

“You didn’t do anything,” Oscar whispered in her ear. “Life just has a cruel way of playing out, sometimes. You didn’t do anything.”

She didn’t respond to him after that, but she didn’t need to. Oscar held on to her tightly as she continued crying, with the rain lightly falling on them. He closed his eyes, allowing a few tears to escape from his own eyes. Things were hard now, but he knew they would push through this. They always did—Simon would want them to not dwell on this, and he knew that. He just hoped and prayed that she knew that too.

.

FOUR YEARS AGO

“F2 Champion has a nice ring to it,” Claire hummed, as Oscar greeted her after the ceremonies. He looked down at the trophy in his hands, basking in his accomplishment.

“I guess it’s okay,” he shrugged sarcastically as he met her gaze again. He could tell she was trying to hold back a smile, but her own happiness betrayed her as it hinted in the corners of her lips. “I’m happy you could be here, you know.”

Now the smile was gone, and his friend shifted uncomfortably. Neither of them wanted to address the elephant in the room. They didn’t have the heart to, anyways. A year without Simon was difficult enough, but now she was leaving him, too. Oscar had researched South Korea. Seoul is over five thousand miles away from Melbourne. It made him sick the first time he read that.

“You know, um,” she cleared her throat as she began playing with the sleek, satin ribbon on her waist. Her dress looked beautiful tonight—pink had always been her color. He wasn’t sure he had really ever seen her like this before—so polished. So mature. He couldn’t recall when she grew up so fast. “My aunt said that you’re welcome to come and stay anytime and she has this really cozy spare room that—“

“Can we…not talk about you leaving?” Oscar interjected. He felt quite rude for saying it, but for one night he just wanted to feel like things were normal. They haven’t been normal since Simon died, and he wanted to spend time with his best friend without talking about something upsetting.

“I don’t want to talk about it just as much as you,” she replied, her expression twisting into one of hurt and disappointment, “but it’s reality, Osc. I’m leaving tomorrow. We can’t keep pushing it off and pretending that in twelve hours, I’ll still be in the room across the hall from you.”

It felt like she had stabbed him just then. Her reaction utterly wounded him. Having his best friend only fifteen feet away from him at all times was the best year ever—but she was right. She wouldn’t be there anymore. She would be almost eighteen hours away.

“I just wanted things to be normal for one night,” he replied softly. He set his trophy down by their feet, then stepped towards her. “I’m not ready to say goodbye, Bear.”

“We have to,” she took a step back, which only hurt him even more. “I’m not staying with you guys tonight. I, um, packed my things before I came here.” It was Oscar’s turn to feel disappointed—to feel hurt. Why wouldn’t she tell him sooner that she wouldn’t be there tonight? They told each other everything…or, used to, anyways.

“So that’s it?” He argued, his voice raising slightly. Nobody at the banquet seemed to be paying attention, though. “You’re just throwing me away? Throwing our friendship away like that? Why didn’t you tell me you wouldn’t be at home tonight?”

“I wanted you to enjoy your ceremony,” she gestured to the trophy on the ground. “I’m not throwing us away, I’m just facing the truth. You can’t live in your cocoon of delusions anymore—“

“God forbid I wanted to enjoy my time with you, Claire,” he angrily interrupted. He hadn’t used her real name in a few years. She had always been Bear to him, and he watched now how this affected her, with her stumbling away from him slightly. He sighed, running a hand through his hair; his tone softer. “It’s not a delusion. I just…don’t know what I’m going to do without you. I didn’t want tonight to be ruined by talking about it.”

When Claire didn’t respond, he knew he fucked up. When she backed up more, was when it solidified that he royally fucked up. He tried to reach for her, but she pulled away.

“I’m sorry I ruined your night, then,” she whispered, but her voice still wavered despite the lowered volume. The way she punctuated the word ‘ruined’ crushed him. He shouldn’t have said that. “I, um, wish you the best, Oscar.” She began gathering her dress in her hands. He hurried after her.

“Claire, please,” he begged. He was struggling with choking back his tears. “Please stay. I’m sorry, I don’t want to leave on these terms.”

It was too late. When she looked at him one last time, he saw that familiar look in her eyes that told him everything he needed to know: her mind was made up. She was leaving, and their friendship was now tainted—if you could even call it a friendship, anymore. They both knew it had been strained since she quit racing, but tonight was the breaking point. Tonight confirmed for them that she was no longer Claire Bear, and he was no longer Osc. They were strangers, and that made him sick. What made him feel even worse was watching her leave, and him not running after her. He let her get away, and that was a regret he would live with for forever.

.

PRESENT DAY

“Alpine is signing on a rookie next season,” Lando announced, lounging back on the boat. The thing bobbed slightly in the water as the waves crashed against it. It was a beautiful day in Monaco, and Oscar could feel the heat from the sun beating down on his closed eyelids.

“They need to get in line,” Oscar joked before taking a swig of the beer bottle in his hands. “Haas is, too. And Mercedes. Alpine isn’t special in that endeavor.”

“I’d disagree,” Oscar could hear the smile in Lando’s voice. He opened his eyes to look to his friend, who was currently lazily scrolling on his phone. “Heard it’s a super rookie. She did some karting stuff as a kid, but didn’t even participate in F3 or F2. No one knows how she managed to get signed.”

“I guess perks of having money?” Oscar suggested, lying down again. “I mean, look at Stroll. He’s only signed cause his dad owns the damn team.” This elicited a laugh from Lando. He set his phone down, then stood up from where he sat. He finished off the remainder of his beer, then set the bottle by his feet.

Their summer break had been rather lazy, but Oscar couldn’t complain too much. Lazy was nice, especially since it’s been a whirlwind of a season so far. With Lando getting his first win in Miami and Oscar getting his first win in Hungary, the two were exhausted.

“Shit, look over there.”

Oscar sat up to see what Lando was gesturing to, where he saw a group of girls on the beach lounging around. They were a bit too far away to make out their faces, but he couldn’t help rolling his eyes. Lando was often one to think with his dick. Oscar enjoyed gawking at the women in Monaco with him, but nothing ever lasted—nothing was ever genuine.

“You can’t even see their faces, dude,” Oscar grumbled. “All you see is their bikini colors.”

“Yeah, and I’m really liking the one with the baby pink bikini,” his friend whistled as he hurried behind the wheel of the boat. Oscar cringed slightly, mostly because pink was a color he hated now. Loathed, actually. Also, hearing the words ‘baby pink’ come from Lando’s mouth was nauseating. Regardless, he let him do his thing as he laid back down and closed his eyes once more. The engine of the boat turned, and he felt as Lando turned it around to begin steering it back to the docks. When it slowed in speed, he heard his friend hop off, and walk down the wooden boardwalk. He began chatting up the girls, with a few of them laughing cheekily at his cliche pickup lines. But one voice rang through Oscar’s veins furiously.

He thought he imagined it, initially. He hadn’t even thought about her for three years. Actually, he had forced himself to forget her completely when she stopped returning his calls. He chose to ignore it, but his heart betrayed him as it picked up speed.

“Lando Norris,” the familiar voice hummed in a flirtatious manner, “you’ve got a reputation, you know.” He heard Lando scoff. She sounded so much older, now.

“Remind me again?” Lando responded. He heard her step closer. He caught his breath. He knew the chair he was lounging on was blocked by the drivers seat of the boat, but if that voice came over here with Lando, he thought he’d probably puke.

“You sleep around,” she stated simply. There was an abrasiveness in her tone, one that practically confirmed it for Oscar that this was who he was afraid it would be. “You don’t call back, you can’t be tied down…tell me why I should go with you?”

Why would she be in Monaco? She had no ties here—or at least, she didn’t when he last saw her. She probably had an entirely new life, now. New friends, new hobbies, maybe even a new boyfriend…he didn’t realize he was panting until he grew lightheaded. This was anxiety, he knew it was.

“Maybe I want you to be the one to change my reputation?” Lando tutted. “Has anyone ever told you that pink looks really good on you?” The girl laughed, and Oscar wanted to cry. He hadn’t heard that laugh since Simon died. He forgot how intoxicating it was—how addicting she was to be around.

“I’m afraid I won’t meet your expectations,” she sighed as her laughter slowed. “I’m looking for commitment, Norris. Not a plaything.” Lando clicked his tongue in disapproval. Oscar could practically see him shaking his head, too. He had a routine when he flirted—one that Oscar had memorized by this point.

“One date,” Lando proposed, clearly feeling confident in his chances. “If you are still convinced I’m not serious, then you can block me and never call me back.” The last part made Oscar’s heart sting. He knew what it was like to be ghosted by Claire. Considering how practically unforgettable she was, he knew that her and Lando would be a recipe for disaster.

“Fine,” she said, giving in to his game. “But it has to be a real date.” Lando chuckled happily.

“Wonderful,” it was his turn to hum flirtatiously, now. “What is your name, darling?”

The next words out of her mouth knocked the air out of Oscar, “I’m Claire Nguyen.”

~

* None of my writing is available for reposting on other platforms. Reblogs, likes, and comments are appreciated.

©️ grogwrites, 2024

[justsomeoneintoomanyfandoms]

When They Know They're In Love ~ Frostheim Edition

I will be doing the other houses and will link them here once they're posted. I hope you like this and if you did, please feel free to send in requests for what you'd like to see.

Fandom: Tokyo Debunker

Characters: Jin Kamurai, Thoma Ishibashi, Lucas Errant, Kaito Fuji x gn! Reader

Frostheim | Vagastrom | Jabberwock | Sinostra | Hotarubi | Obscuary | Mortkranken

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

How do the characters know they're in love and what will they do when they realise?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jin is not exactly the most in touch with his emotions. He knows he feels something around you. Does he think it’s some weird side effect of your ability or him using his stigma after so long? Absolutely.

It will take him a long time to figure out that what he’s feeling is actually love but when he does, it’s when you’ve finally snapped at his treatment of you.

You’re tired of being treated like a servant and you’re letting him have a piece of your mind.

And suddenly, his chest is tightening, and he’s got butterflies, and he realises just how beautiful you are.  How did he never notice this before?

It might take him a while longer to accept his feelings and pursue you properly but when he does, expect to be swept off your feet by the effort he puts in to making you feel just as strongly about him.

Thoma is a lot more observant than Jin. He’ll recognise his feelings almost straight away when he sees how hard you’re working both to get to know the ghouls and to break your curse.

He’s found a kindred spirit in your hard-working attitude. But he won’t act on those feelings for a while.

He’s busy with his own work and, if he’s being honest, he doesn’t think he could handle getting into a relationship with you, only for your curse to take you from him a year later.

I think it would take a life-or-death situation for him to confess. Something where he nearly looses you before the year is up and he realises he has to tell you how he feels before you’re gone.

Whether a relationship blooms from that is up to the two of you but Thoma’s a practical guy. Whatever you’re decision, he’ll make it work somehow.

Luca is an interesting case. I feel like he’s aware of his feelings about certain things but not others. Love is one of those things he’s not super aware of.

He knows how he feels about close family like his brother. But you? He just doesn’t register his feelings towards you as romantic at first.

He finally puts it together when he sees you asleep in the library, a book open in front of you with information relating to his brother’s situation.

The rush of affection he feels towards you in that moment is so strong, even Luca can’t misunderstand it as anything else. Now he just has to confess.

He won’t drag it out and will likely pull you aside next time he sees you. He’ll be perfectly gentlemanly and explain his feelings, as well as letting you know that any decision you make, he will accept.

Kaito is certainly in touch with his emotions, but I don’t think he would realise the depth of his feelings for a long time.

If you’re female presenting, he would just assume what he’s feeling for you is his usual affection towards women. If you’re male presenting, he’ll just assume you’re a really great friend.

He realises he’s in love with you when he gets a message from another person and realises the sinking feeling in his stomach isn’t a normal reaction.

Honestly, I feel like Kaito will be a bit freaked out by his feelings to start with. He’s not used to really caring about people and he’s not entirely sure where to start.

Once he does come to terms with his feelings and realises he wants to be with you as more than just a friend, he’ll do his best to up his game so you fall for him the same way he fell for you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hey, did you enjoy this? If you like my writing, please consider donating to my Ko-Fi page! This will allow me to make some money off my writing, something I enjoy doing.

ko-fi.com/justsomeoneintoomanyfandoms

Important Note: Please only donate if you are financially able to. If you are currently in a position where you can't donate, a like, comment or reblog will mean just as much.

[urdreamydoodles]

Love your works!!!! And I love Mr. Pickles!!!

May I ask for headcanons if reader dies in their arms?

Asking for: Emma Frost, Charles Xavier, Jean Grey, Piotr Rasputin, Beast, and Illyana Rasputin

No pressure ofc!!! Thank you!!

And have I mentioned that I fucking love your works?!?!

X-Men x Reader (Part.1)

You die in their arms (Part.1)

In the heat of battle, you succumbs to fatal injuries in the arms of your partner. Each X-Men, torn apart by grief, reacts to the devastating loss, facing the crushing reality that their greatest power cannot bring back the person they love most.

Characters: Emma Frost, Charles Xavier, Jean Grey, Colossus, Hank McCoy & Magik

First of all, thank you for this message, you are my first request and you have no idea how much it touches me. And secondly, your compliments make me blush, I'm glad you like my work, because personally I've never had as much fun as writing about something as this. Get ready for a LOT of headcanons because I have a lot in store. Above all, don't hesitate to ask for other requests <3 And thanks to you, you inspired me to make your request for other X-Men and X-Women. PS: MR. PICKLES WILL RETURN

Emma Frost

The battlefield was littered with chaos—explosions, screams, and the metallic scent of blood filled the air. You and Emma had been fighting alongside the X-Men, as you had countless times before, but this time was different. This battle had been brutal, and even though you had faced danger before, nothing had ever felt this dire. You had always fought by her side, both of you in sync, but as the fight raged on, you felt your strength starting to wane.

Emma’s voice was sharp and commanding in your mind, as always. “Stay with me, darling. We’re almost through this,” she had said, her mental link giving you strength. But when the blast came—one you hadn’t seen coming—it sent you flying, the pain immediate and overwhelming. You crumpled to the ground, clutching your side, feeling the warmth of your own blood seeping through your fingers.

Emma’s scream tore through the battlefield, her telepathic wail so fierce it silenced everyone for a moment. In the next second, she was at your side, her diamond form shimmering as she knelt down, her hands trembling as they reached for you. The moment her fingers touched your skin, her diamond exterior shattered, leaving her vulnerable in a way she never was on the battlefield.

"Y/N," she whispered, her voice breaking. "No, no, no... this can’t be happening."

You struggled to stay conscious, your vision blurring as you looked up at her, the love of your life, her face twisted in anguish. "I’m sorry," you choked out, each word a struggle. "I tried... I really tried."

Tears fell from her eyes, something she rarely allowed herself to do. She pressed her forehead against yours, her voice shaking. "Don’t you dare say goodbye. Not yet. I won’t let you go."

But you could feel it. The life slipping away, your heartbeat growing fainter. You reached up weakly, your hand brushing against her cheek. "Emma... I love you," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Emma’s breath hitched as she gripped your hand, holding onto you as if her sheer willpower could keep you alive. "I love you too," she whispered back, her lips brushing your forehead. "Please... please stay."

But you couldn’t. Your eyes fluttered shut, your body growing still in her arms.

For a moment, Emma just sat there, her mind refusing to accept what had just happened. Then, with a heart-wrenching scream, she unleashed a wave of telepathic energy so powerful that it swept across the battlefield, knocking down enemies, sending shockwaves through everyone’s minds. She cradled your body, her chest heaving with sobs, her mind desperate, reaching out to you, trying to find any trace of your consciousness.

But you were gone.

And for the first time in her life, Emma Frost felt utterly, completely broken.

Charles Xavier

The fight had been relentless, and despite the X-Men’s best efforts, the battle had taken a terrible toll. You had always been the calm in Charles’ storm, the grounding presence he could rely on when the weight of leading the X-Men grew too heavy. But today, everything had gone wrong. You had been separated from the team, cornered by enemies, and though you fought bravely, you had been wounded—badly.

By the time Charles found you, the world had already started fading around the edges. He wheeled towards you with a speed and desperation you had never seen in him before. His voice echoed in your mind, trembling with fear. *"Y/N, hold on. Please, just hold on."*

You could barely open your eyes, the pain in your body making it difficult to even breathe. But you heard him, and you smiled weakly, your heart aching as you felt his mind reaching for yours, trying to steady you, trying to keep you present. "I’m sorry, Charles," you rasped, your voice so faint it barely carried over the sounds of battle. "I wasn’t strong enough."

"No," Charles said, his voice firm, though you could hear the fear beneath it. "You are strong. You’ve always been strong. Don’t leave me, Y/N. I can’t lose you."

You felt his hand grasp yours, his grip trembling. You had always marveled at how Charles carried the weight of the world on his shoulders, always keeping his emotions tightly controlled. But now, there was no control. There was only fear, and love, and desperation in his eyes.

"You were always my strength, Charles," you whispered, your hand squeezing his as best as you could. "I love you. So much."

Tears filled his eyes, his voice breaking as he spoke. "And I love you. You are everything to me."

You could feel his mind wrapping around yours, trying to hold you there, trying to stop the inevitable. He was begging, pleading with you to stay, to fight, but your body was failing. You felt the warmth of his love in your mind, a comfort even as the world started slipping away.

"Please, Y/N," Charles whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "Please, don’t leave me."

But you couldn’t hold on any longer. The pain faded, the world grew silent, and your grip on his hand loosened.

Charles sat there, his hand still holding yours, as the battlefield around him seemed to blur into nothing. His heart shattered, and in that moment, all the strength and control he had maintained for years crumbled. He lowered his head, his tears falling onto your lifeless body, and he sent out a silent scream, a wave of raw emotion so powerful that it resonated across the minds of every living person on the battlefield.

Charles had lost many people in his life. But losing you felt like the end of everything.

Jean Grey

The battle had taken its toll, not just on the X-Men but on the world itself. You and Jean had fought side by side, your powers complementing each other in ways that made you an unstoppable force. But this battle had pushed you both beyond your limits. You had been caught in an explosion, your body thrown against the rubble, the pain blinding and all-consuming.

Jean was at your side in an instant, her telekinetic powers lifting the debris off you, her hands trembling as she reached for you. "No... no, no, no," she whispered, her voice cracking as she cradled your head in her lap. "Y/N, stay with me."

You could barely keep your eyes open, the world spinning as you struggled to breathe. "Jean..." you whispered, your voice so weak, so broken. "I... I don’t think I can..."

"Don’t you dare say that," Jean said, her voice fierce but laced with panic. "You’re going to be okay. I won’t let you go."

You could feel her mind reaching out to yours, wrapping around your consciousness, trying to keep you there with her. Her love flooded your mind, a warmth that soothed the pain, but you could feel your body slipping away, your strength fading.

"I’m sorry," you whispered, your hand weakly reaching for hers. "I’m so sorry."

Jean’s tears fell onto your face as she held you closer. "Don’t apologize," she said, her voice breaking. "You have nothing to be sorry for. You’ve always been there for me. Please... just stay a little longer."

You could see the anguish in her eyes, feel the desperation in her mind as she tried to hold on to you. But the pain was too much, and your body was failing.

"I love you," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

"I love you too," Jean said, her voice shaking as she pressed her forehead against yours, her tears falling freely now. "Please... don’t leave me."

But you were slipping away, the world growing darker, quieter, as you took your last breath. Jean’s sobs echoed in your fading consciousness, her mind screaming out for you, trying to pull you back. But it was too late.

Jean held your lifeless body in her arms, her chest heaving with sobs. She let out a scream, a psychic wave that shattered the air around her, sending shockwaves through the battlefield. Her grief, her agony, her love—they all collided in that moment, her powers surging uncontrollably as she held onto you, unable to let go.

In that moment, Jean Grey—one of the most powerful beings in the universe—felt utterly powerless.

Colossus

The battle was at its peak, and the sounds of war echoed around you. Explosions rocked the battlefield as Colossus, in his full metal form, fought valiantly beside you. His towering figure was always a source of comfort, an indestructible wall between you and the chaos. The ground shook beneath your feet as you moved to join him, your heart pounding with adrenaline.

But then, an enemy blast caught you off guard, the impact throwing you off your feet. You hit the ground hard, the pain immediate and overwhelming. Blood seeped from your wounds as you struggled to breathe, your vision blurring. You tried to push yourself up, but your body refused to respond. The sound of heavy metal footsteps reached your ears, and you knew Piotr had seen you fall.

His metallic form glimmered in the firelight as he ran toward you, his eyes wide with terror. You had never seen him like this, even in the most dangerous situations. He dropped to his knees beside you, the cold steel of his hands cradling you gently despite their immense strength.

"Y/N!" His voice was thick with fear, a sound you'd never thought you'd hear from someone as powerful as him. "Please, no. Not you. Not like this."

You tried to smile, but the pain was too much. "Piotr..." you whispered, your voice barely audible. "I... I can't..."

He shook his head, his metal features twisting in agony. "Don’t speak. I’ll protect you," he promised, though the pain in his voice told you he knew there was nothing he could do. He tried to stem the flow of blood from your wound, his massive hands shaking.

His metal body was usually unyielding, but now he seemed so vulnerable, so afraid. He held you close, his cold arms pulling you against his chest. "Stay with me, please," he whispered, pressing his forehead against yours. His entire body trembled as he struggled to maintain control.

Your hand reached up weakly to touch his face, the cool metal of his cheek sending a shiver through your fingers. "I love you," you whispered, the words catching in your throat as darkness closed in around you.

He let out a sob, his steel form shuddering with grief. "I love you more than anything, Y/N. You’re everything to me."

But it was too late. Your breath faded, and your hand slipped from his cheek, falling limply to the ground. Piotr let out a roar of anguish, his voice reverberating across the battlefield. He held your lifeless body close, his tears mingling with the blood and dirt that stained your skin. Even in his indestructible form, he felt more broken than ever before.

Magik

The battle had spiraled out of control, and you found yourself separated from the rest of the X-Men, the air thick with smoke and the sound of clashing metal. You had always admired Illyana’s ability to remain calm in the face of chaos, but this time, the situation was different. The enemies were relentless, and no matter how hard you fought, it wasn’t enough. Then, out of nowhere, a blade struck you, piercing through your side, and you collapsed to the ground.

Before you could even cry out, the world around you warped, and you found yourself in Limbo. Illyana stood before you, her eyes wide with horror as she took in the sight of your bloodied body. “No...” she whispered, her sword clattering to the ground as she rushed to your side.

You tried to speak, but the pain was overwhelming, your vision flickering in and out of focus. Illyana’s hands shook as she pressed them against your wound, trying to stop the blood that poured out of you. “I’ll fix this,” she said, her voice trembling. “I can fix this.”

You had always known that Illyana was powerful beyond measure, but in this moment, she looked small, fragile, as though she was trying to hold onto something that was slipping away. She stared down at you, her breath coming in shallow gasps as she knelt beside you, her hands glowing with the dark magic of Limbo.

“I can’t lose you,” she whispered, her voice breaking as tears filled her eyes. “Not like this.”

You reached up with what little strength you had left, your hand brushing against her cheek. “Illyana,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “I love you.”

Her breath hitched as she leaned down, pressing her forehead against yours. “I love you too, more than anything,” she said, her voice shaking. “You can’t leave me. I won’t let you.”

But you could feel your life slipping away, the pain becoming numb as the darkness closed in. You wanted to stay, to hold on, but it was too late. Your hand fell limp in hers, your chest rising for the last time as your heart stopped.

Illyana let out a scream that echoed through the very fabric of Limbo, a sound so filled with grief and fury that it sent shockwaves through the demonic realm. Her magic surged uncontrollably, her power crackling through the air as she cradled your lifeless body in her arms. In her rage, the demons of Limbo cowered, the sky itself trembling in fear.

But no amount of power could bring you back, and that realization shattered her. She held onto you, her tears falling onto your skin, whispering your name over and over again as the world around her grew dark, consumed by her grief.

Hank McCoy

The battlefield had turned into a warzone of destruction, and even though you and Hank had fought together many times before, this battle was unlike any you had experienced. You had always admired how composed and intellectual Hank was, even in the most dire of situations. But this time, the enemy had been too quick, too brutal, and before you could react, you had been struck by a powerful blast.

Your body hit the ground hard, pain shooting through you as you struggled to breathe. Blood spilled from the wound in your chest, and every breath felt like a mountain weighing down on you. Through the haze of pain, you heard Hank’s voice, panicked and desperate, something you had never heard from him before.

“Y/N!” He shouted, rushing toward you, his blue fur standing on end as he dropped to his knees beside you. His large hands were gentle as he cradled your head in his lap, his eyes wide with terror as he took in the sight of your injuries. “No, no, this can’t be happening.”

You tried to smile up at him, but the pain was too much. “I’m sorry, Hank,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “I didn’t... I couldn’t...”

“Shh,” he said, his voice shaking. He pressed his hand to your wound, trying to stop the bleeding, but it was no use. His eyes were filled with panic, his normally calm and collected demeanor completely gone. “You’ll be alright. Just stay with me.”

You could feel the life draining from you, the world growing darker around the edges. You reached up weakly, your fingers brushing against his cheek. “I love you,” you whispered, your voice barely a breath.

Hank’s eyes filled with tears, something you had never seen from him before. “I love you too, more than you’ll ever know,” he said, his voice breaking. He leaned down, pressing his forehead to yours, his tears falling onto your face. “Please don’t leave me. I can’t... I can’t do this without you.”

You wanted to stay, to hold on, but your body was failing, your heart slowing with every passing second. You looked up at him one last time, your vision blurring as you whispered, “I’m sorry.”

And then, everything went dark.

Hank let out a strangled sob, his entire body trembling as he held you close. His mind raced, trying to think of a solution, something that could bring you back, but he knew it was too late. You were gone, and nothing could change that.

He sat there for what felt like an eternity, holding your lifeless body in his arms, his tears falling freely as he whispered your name. The battlefield raged on around him, but for Hank, the world had stopped. You were gone, and with you, a part of him had died too.

[solxamber]

Ramshackle, 4, fluff :]

You have very fun writings! Love to see what you end up doing for the event, make sure to take breaks and not to burn yourself out!

thank you so much!! and i will 🫶🫶

Fox in Denial || Fellow Honest

For the Holiday Event! || Prompt: "I'm NOT jealous" ; Genre: Fluff

The door creaked open as you stepped into the cozy, albeit cluttered, living space you shared with Fellow and Gidel. The scent of Gidel’s freshly made stew wafted through the air, and you couldn’t help but smile as you kicked off your shoes. “I’m home!” you called out.

“Finally,” Fellow said, lounging dramatically on the couch, his arm draped over the backrest like some stage actor caught mid-performance. “What, did you get lost on the way back? Or maybe you found someone else more fun to hang out with, huh?”

The mischievous glint in his eye made you laugh. “Oh, absolutely. I was swept away by an entirely different crowd of fox beastmen. They had better jokes than you, too.”

Fellow sputtered. “Excuse me?! Better jokes? No chance. My jokes are premium grade-A material!”

“Sure, sure.” You crossed the room, shrugging off your coat. Fellow was still staring at you, though his posture had shifted slightly. His tail flicked once, betraying his irritation.

Gidel, stirring the stew in the corner, raised a hand and pointed at Fellow with a snicker-like huff, his ears twitching in amusement.

“Don’t you start,” Fellow shot back at him before turning to you. “And I’m not jealous, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“Oh, I wasn’t thinking that,” you said, biting back a grin. “But now that you bring it up…”

“I’m not!” he insisted, sitting up straighter. His silver tongue seemed to fail him for a moment as his face flushed ever so slightly. “Why would I care if you—if you’re out there—uh, doing whatever?”

“Fellow, you’re literally fuming,” you teased, stepping closer. “Your tail’s all puffed up. Did Gidel have to stop you from pacing earlier?”

Gidel gave a soft wheeze that sounded suspiciously like laughter and nodded enthusiastically, earning a glare from Fellow.

“Traitor,” Fellow muttered under his breath before huffing loudly. “Well, fine! I might have been worried about you, okay? That’s perfectly reasonable. But jealous? No way. Not my style.”

“Not at all?” you pressed, moving to sit beside him. He froze slightly when you leaned in close, your face just inches from his. “Not even a little?”

“N-not even a—” He cut himself off with a squeak as you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him into a tight hug. His protests died in his throat as his whole body stiffened, his tail giving an embarrassed flick.

“You’re ridiculous, Fellow,” you murmured, resting your chin on his shoulder. “You don’t have to worry about me, okay? It’s always you I come back to.”

Fellow went utterly silent for a moment, his ears drooping just slightly as he slowly, awkwardly returned your hug. “Well… yeah, I mean, obviously,” he mumbled. “I am pretty great.”

Gidel made a loud, wheezing sound behind you, and you glanced over to see him holding his sides, shaking with silent laughter.

“What’s so funny?!” Fellow snapped, glaring over your shoulder. “I—this isn’t funny, Gidel! This is touching and heartfelt!”

You pulled back slightly to grin at him. “Touching and heartfelt, huh? Should I start writing it down for your future performances?”

“Don’t push your luck!” he exclaimed, though the flustered expression on his face betrayed him. His arms stayed wrapped around you a moment longer than necessary before he quickly let go and leaned back, trying to reclaim his usual swagger.

“Well,” he said with an exaggerated flick of his tail, “next time you’re late, maybe send me a letter or something. Gidel and I are busy people, you know. We can’t just drop everything to worry about you!”

Gidel pointedly rolled his eyes and shook his head, and you stifled a laugh.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you said, leaning in to ruffle his hair. He squawked indignantly but made no real effort to stop you.

“I’m still not jealous!” he yelled as Gidel doubled over in silent laughter again.

“Sure you’re not,” you said with a grin, watching as Fellow tried and failed to keep a smug smile from tugging at his lips. Maybe he wasn’t that honest after all.

Masterlist