#i could explain for hours why i like ink

[toffeebrews]

I think if I tried to explain why I like half the characters I like it would come out like complete gibberish.

[imagines4thefandoms]

In Love with the Tats

(This has been in my drafts for a long time)

Warning: Lots of smut

summary: Henry comes home still wearing fake tattoos from his latest movie.

Henry Cavill is a kind and loving man. He is the real-life Superman. And he’s British so he’s automatically very polite and nice to everyone. He looks like an actual bear with all those muscles but he’s really just a giant teddy bear who requires cuddles to function. He usually plays good guys in the movies cause it's who he is. 

Which is why the world lost its mind when Mission Impossible: Fallout came out. Henry “king of nerds” Cavill was a bad guy. Seeing him betray, hurt, and kill was out of pocket and extremely hot. And you were not expecting it. When you started dating you told him not to give you any spoilers from his movies. You wanted to get the whole experience when you saw it at the premiere. Sometimes it backfired like in Dawn of Justice when Superman died, and you were caught off guard but he brought you tissues cause he knew you needed them. And when you got married that promise was in your vows. Maybe cause you told him you would divorce him if he spoiled anything for you. 

So when you watched your husband who can’t hurt a fly try and destroy the world and kill millions, you got turned on. Seeing a darker side of him was very attractive. And every girl can tell you how villains are a lot more attractive than heroes. So when you got home from the premiere you jumped his bones. And for the next 24 hours, you two rarely left the bed for longer than 5 minutes. The phrase fucking like rabbits could have legally changed to fucking like Cavill’s. 

After that when he would look over scripts his agent sent him, you would help him and pick out the role you liked (spoiler if he played the bad guy you liked it). He auditioned for the roles you liked cause he could never say no to you and you would never steer him wrong. And he got the role. You did your civic duty to the world and Henry Cavill was going to be a bad guy again on the silver screen. 

And now while he’s filming you spend all day with your favorite Cavill, Kal. You had gotten a text from your husband saying filming was running late and he wouldn’t be home in time for dinner which didn’t bother you at all. You made a simple pasta dinner and left it on the table cause you didn’t want to eat without him. Usually, when he runs late he gets home around 10 or 11 instead of 6 and you had a big lunch with friends so you didn’t mind waiting. While you waited for him to come home you and Kal sat on the couch watching The Office (American edition). It was the episode with Asian Jim so you were dying laughing over Dwight's reaction. Suddenly the front door opened and you felt a kiss on the top of your head, cause you were too busy to look over at who walked in the house. Though you knew it was Henry. 

“I could have been a robber,” he lightly scorned seeing as the front door was unlocked.

“Well then the robber could finish the episode with me and then take our things,” you teased still not looking at him. 

“You are a pain, love,” he said taking off his jacket and locking the front door. 

Kal, your nice warm cuddle buddy, jumped off the couch and ran to Henry excited that he was home. You turned to scorn your husband for causing your furnace to leave when you took in his appearance. 

“What is that,” you asked him noticing how he was covered in tattoos. Like COVERED. His neck, both arms and his knuckles had ink. 

“I didn’t want to keep the makeup artist there any longer and I told them to leave them til tomorrow,” he explained rubbing behind Kal’s ear. 

When he was met with silence he looked over at you and noticed you were staring. He immediately thought you were turned off. 

“I’ll try to get us to wrap earlier tomorrow so they have time to take it off,” he says grabbing Kal’s leash to take him on a walk. 

“You don’t have to,” you said staring at the tattoo on his neck and biting your lip. 

It suddenly clicked in his mind that you were very much turned on. He smirked at your reaction and bent over to whisper in your ear. 

“I'm going to walk Kal and when I get back I'll show you the rest of them.”

“There’s more,” you gasped finally bringing yourself to look him in the eye. 

He simply replied with a nod and walked back out of the house to walk the dog. Henry might have been gone for only 10 minutes but seeing how you were suddenly very hot and bothered it felt like hours. You were too antsy to move from your spot on the couch and could not for the life of you pay attention to the antics of Jim and Dwight. When Henry finally came back, he sent Kal to lie down in his bed in the living room and threw you over his shoulders to bring you to the bedroom. 

“You are not helping my situation,” you cried out as he threw you on the bed. 

“I'm not in a helping mood,” he replied taking off his shirt. 

His chest was covered in tattoos and scars. There was no bare centimeter of skin. You got on your knees and slowly ran your hand over the art. When you reached his navel he turned around and showed you the back. There was a cross with a rose intertwined with it and blood dripping from the stem. You turned him back around and placed one hand over the skill on his chest and your other hand covered the flames on his neck and brought him down to you for a very firm kiss. His hands went to your waist and he laid you down hovering over you. As soon as you got your legs out from under you they went around his waist to bring him closer to you. The kiss got very heated and sloppy. His lips left yours and traveled to your neck. Your hands alternated between gripping his hair and scratching his back. 

He pulled himself from you and removed the shirt you were wearing leaving your chest bare. He kissed your nose then your lips then your neck and kept traveling til he was right above your shorts. You whined as he slowly took off your shorts and peppered your hips with kisses. When he finally took your shorts off he kissed the inside of your ankle and slowly went up til his nose brushed against your very wet cunt. 

“Hen, please,” you cried as he just kept kissing your inner thigh and letting his mouth hover so close but so far from when you needed him. 

“Where do you need me,” he asked bringing his face back up to yours and staring into your eyes. “Here,” he asked placing a kiss on your neck. You shook your head no. “here,” he asked kissing between your breasts. 

“No,” you cried wiggling beneath him. 

His hands gripped your hips causing your movements to cease and his lips brushed over your right nipple. “Here?” You again shook your head no. and he did the same to your left nipple. He asked the same question and got the same answer. He continued to kiss down your body, your stomach, hips, knee, and ankle but still wouldn’t touch you where you needed him. 

“If you don’t hurry up or I’m going to do it myself,” you cried out. 

“No, you’re not. You are mine, your kisses are mine. Your tears are mine. Your whimpers, moans, and pleas are mine. And for damn sure your orgasms are mine. No one, no toy, not even these beautiful fingers can bring you the pleasure I can,” he said kissing the tip of all ten of your fingers. “They can’t fill you or stretch you the way I can. You will forever be unsatisfied, empty, and cold without my fingers, mouth, and cock to fill you and keep you warm.”

His mouth finally hovered over where you needed him. He could see and smell how turned on you were but still hesitated to do anything about it. “Say it. Say no one can fuck you like I can. Tell me you are mine,” he said staring at you. 

You wiggled and cried and gasped at the feeling of his hot breath on your cunt. You tried to close your leg to get a little morsel of relief but his hands gripped your thighs and forced them open. 

“Say it,” he said again this time deliberately blowing directly on your clit. 

“Fuck. I’m yours only yours. No one can ever fuck me as good as you do,” you cried trying to close your legs again but not moving them an inch. “Please Hen I can’t take it.”

“Good girl. I’ve got you just relax,” he said before attaching his mouth to your aching cunt and eating you out like a starved man. 

His tongue traveled from your clit to your vagina and back again. He started sucking on your clit but his eyes never left your face. He watched as your eyes closed and face contorted with pleasure. Your hands gripped his hair and you were either trying to pull him away or pushing him in more you didn’t know but a groan left his throat causing you to fall over the edge and cum in his mouth. 

He lapped up the juices and sat back and just admired the mess between your legs. He used his fingers to spread you open so he could get a closer look. He spits in your very exposed cunt and then goes back to eating you like you were a whole meal at a 5-star restaurant. You cried and screamed his name when his teeth gently grazed over your clit. Before you could even come down from your first orgasm the second one hit like a ton of bricks. Your hips lifted off the bed and you screamed his name but he still wasn’t done. When your legs stopped shaking he finally removed his mouth and bruised your lips with a kiss. You let out a moan when you tasted yourself on his lips. 

You opened your eyes and noticed his were filled with a lustful/predatory look. He gently pressed kisses on your nose and lips causing you to laugh. His hand traveled from your neck to your left breast then down til his fingers stopped between your legs. 

“I'm not done with you princess, that was just my mouth. We still have my fingers,” he said pressing two into you without warning causing you to gasp. “And my cock,” he said placing a small kiss on your neck. 

“Fuck Hen,” you cried turning your head away from him. 

“On no princess, I said those are mine. You are going to look in my eyes as you come undone on just my fingers,” he said turning your head towards him.

You couldn’t say a word so you just nodded as your response. He thrust his finger in and out of you so slowly that it was almost painful. “Faster please,” you whined running your hands through his hair and bringing his lips against you. 

“Too impatient, you that much of a whore you can’t wait to drench my finger,” he asked picking up his speed. 

“Oh yes,” you said both at the new pace and his words.

“Yes, what,” he asked pulling his fingers out of you and bringing them to his lips. “Fuck you taste exquisite.”

You whined at the now empty feeling seeing as you were so close to cumming again. “Yes, I'm your whore please.”

Satisfied with your answer he plunged his fingers into your agains and was fucking you with such a brutal pace that tears fell from your eyes. “That’s my good girl. You're doing so well for me. You're taking my fingers so well, should we add another,” he asked rubbing your clit with his fingers. 

“Yes, Daddy please.”

He inserted another finger and stretched you out. Henry stroked your face when he saw you wince in pain. 

“It's okay baby, Your pussy was made for me. I can feel you gripping my fingers. Do you wanna cum,” he asked kissing your ear. 

“Please,” you whined. 

“Let go, Daddy’s got you,” he whispered. “Be my good girl and cum for me.”

The knot in your stomach broke and a wave of ecstasy filled every atom of your body. His finger still fucked you through through your intense orgasm. When you came down he once again removed his fingers. He brought them to your lips and gave them a little tap. 

“Clean my fingers, taste how sweet you taste,” he said looking at you. 

You sucked your cum off his fingers like there was no tomorrow while your eyes never left his. Once you were done he removed his fingers from your mouth and got off the bed to remove his jeans. Out of instinct, you got on your knees in front of him. He unbuckled his pants and pulled both his jeans and boxers down. You were about to take him in your mouth when you noticed more tattoos on his hips and all over his legs. 

Your fingers traced the dragon that covered his entire right leg. From his ankle to his hip. On his left thigh was a wolf’s head with trees around it like it was a forest. Henry let out a growl seeing as were were quite literally leaving him hanging. 

“It's not fun is it,” you retorted letting him think your were punished him for leaving you high and dry earlier. 

“Either you take my cock in your mouth now or I shove it down your throat and fuck you so hard you can’t speak,” he threatened gripping your throat and forcing you to look up. 

You pressed your legs at the thought of him fucking your mouth with such force. He noticed you squirm and he laughed. “You want that, don’t you. You want to wake up tomorrow with a sore throat and remember how I used you for the slut you are.”

You nodded your head and his hands gripped your head and he just stared into your eyes. “Then open up,” he said before he shoved his dick down your throat causing you to gag. Once the shock was over you tried to suck the soul out of him. 

“Fuck,” he moaned as your nails dug into his thighs.

He kept fucking your mouth and made sure that every inch was in. He brought your face to the base of his cock then pulled out completely to give you a breath. His thump traced your lips and pushed the drool from your chin back into your mouth. “My beautiful wife.” Your mouth fell open waiting for him to shove his cock back down your throat. Henry let out a laugh before giving you what you wanted. The pace he was going was brutal but beautiful at the same time. 

You watched as his face scrunched in pleasure at the feeling of your mouth. The sound of his balls slapping your chin filled your ears making your legs squeeze together. Henry’s hands cradled your face as he forced his cock as far down your throat as he could reach and he just held you there. When your tongue ran over the vein on the underside of him he quickly pulled himself out. 

“If I’m going to cum anywhere,” he said pulling you to him, “it’s going to be in this pussy.”

Henry’s hand stroked you clit one more time before he gently pushed you down on the bed. You tried to scoot up to the pillows but, Henry grabbed your ankles and dragged you back down til your ass was almost off the bed. He brushed your hair out of your face and places a kiss on your nose before plunging deep into your aching cunt. 

“Fuck,” you yelled dragging your nails down his back. 

Henry pounded into you at an alarming pace causing you to slowly move up the bed. “I'm gonna,” you yelled before his lips attacked yours. The orgasm ripped through your body. Your legs were shaking uncontrollably and your bones felt like mush. But Henry didn’t stop. His pace was speeding up like he was chasing his own pleasure. 

“I can’t,” you cried moving your head side to side. 

“Yes, you can baby. Just one more,” he said kissing your shoulder. “I'm almost there, you’re doing such a good job.”

Your head is still shaking from the overstimulation. His hands went from your waist to your painfully throbbing clit. “Please,” you cried when he roughly pinched it. He ignored your cries and just focused on your clit. You tried moving away but his other hand moved to your throat. “I know baby. But I know you have one more. Please I need you,” he pleaded as his strokes slowed down. You slowly nodded your head and he forcefully kissed you again. He removed his hand from your throat and went back to your thigh. Henry gave you a little squeeze before moving your legs over his shoulders. 

At this angle, you could swear you felt more of him. He slammed into you over and over again. “Cum with me baby,” he said bending you practically if half so he could kiss you. His movements stopped and his head fell to your shoulder as he came. “Fuck,” he yelled once he emptied his entire load. He stayed in you for a minute to catch his breath. 

“I love you,” he said whipping the sweat off your brow. 

You winced when he slowly removed himself. “I love you too,” you said when he walked into the bathroom to get a washcloth. When he ran the warm cloth over your abused cunt you flenched in pain. “Fuck, did I hurt you,” he asked kissing your knee. You shook your head and pulled him up to you. “Just very sore. Can you just hold me,” you asked.

He rolled off you and laid on his back with his arm extended waiting for you to move at your own pace. While your head rested on his chest, he rubbed small circles on your lower back. 

“So you want me to keep these tomorrow too,” he asked mumbling into your hair. You let out a laugh and slapped his stomach. “God no, I can’t survive another night like this tomorrow,” you said moving to look up at him. “But definitely next week,” you said with a smile.

[heliads]

I’m not sure if you write for Marauders or not, but I thought I would ask. I’ve also never requested before, so apologies if I do this wrong.

My request is a Regulus Black x a female Potter reader where they fake their deaths to hide from Voldemort and destroy all his horcruxes in secret. Once they’ve destroyed all the horcruxes they reveal that they are alive to Sirius and James, and there is a cute reunion scene that’s really fluffy.

Again, sorry if I did this wrong. Thank you so much!!

oh i would do anything for the marauders (including writing for them)

masterlist

Night has fallen when Regulus Black tells you that he’s leaving. He waits until now, the final hour, as if hoping that the dark shades of midnight will hide what he’s planning from the rest of the world. Regulus will be found out, of that he is certain, he just hopes that he’ll have enough time to do some sort of good before he’s caught.

The smart thing would be to leave before anyone got word of his disappearance. Regulus is not smart when he comes to you, however, or so he admits when he shows up on your doorstep when you were just about to go to bed.

Regulus says that he’s leaving alone. It doesn’t explain why he showed up to say goodbye, or perhaps the thought of that solitude is the very reason for it. Regulus is alone except for when he’s with you. Every time that he was lonely, he sought you out. It makes perfect sense that now, when he fears the quiet abyss of death, he would want a farewell from you one last time.

You, however, are unwilling to let him go. It was hard enough having to endure the past few years estranged from him like another brother to let go. You’re a Potter, he’s a Black, and even though Sirius switched over to your side, Regulus hadn’t. Not yet. Not until now.

It had all but torn you to pieces, choosing loyalty with your brother James and his best friend Sirius when Regulus seemed so far away. Regulus had always been kind to you throughout your years at Hogwarts, the two of you closer than anyone despite how your scarlet school robes clashed with his emerald ones, and just when you swore nothing could separate you, he signed on with the Death Eaters.

Now he’s in front of you, telling you that he’s going to take down the Dark Lord or die trying. It seems like a fool’s errand, and a dangerous one at that. That’s what you tell him after you get over the shock of seeing him after such a long time, once you remember to invite him into your house and lock the door securely behind you.

The outside is blank and dark, but in your home, you’ve never felt more alive. You had wondered what it would be like to see Regulus after so much time, and it’s like you’re back at Hogwarts instead of in some small apartment close to your job. He’s here, and you’re here, and the thought that he’s about to go fling himself into the grasp of unwarranted death is unthinkable.

Perhaps that’s why you let it happen under only one condition:  that you be there too. Regulus is a brother and you are a sister and the two of you understand each other, you always have. That’s why you know without a doubt that Regulus will not stray from this quest, even though you try to persuade him from it nonetheless. It’s why he knows better than to fight when you assert that he won’t be doing it alone.

You did try to talk him out of it a little, at least. Why would it be him of all people to try to take down Voldemort? When there are so many witches and wizards fighting in the cause, why should he be the one to die?

You had not gained much by way of explanation. “It’s my responsibility,” he had said simply. 

Regulus would know about responsibility. Regulus, who joined the Death Eaters to appease his parents, who regretted the choice from the moment the inked skull appeared on his forearm. You’ve caught him staring at the accursed tattoo for hours, only when he thinks no one else is around. You know he only feels comfortable wearing long sleeved shirts so he doesn’t have to look at it and remember what he became. 

It is his responsibility to save the wizarding world, and so it will be yours, too. Regulus isn’t pleased at first when you tell him that you’ll be going with him on the quest to hunt down the horcruxes, but you refuse to change your mind. When the moon hangs high in the sky later that night, you think he goes to sleep with a smile at the thought that he’ll have such a lovely traveling companion. He tells you as much when you set off, anyway. 

He might as well be smiling about something, you won’t have much reason to do so until the difficult deed is done. You’re already leaving under terrible circumstances as is; in order to avoid detection from the Dark Lord and his followers, you and Regulus have staged each other’s deaths. When your friends come upon the scene later, they’ll believe that Regulus, a Death Eater, came by your home to kill you, a member of the Order of the Phoenix. You fought back and managed to wound Regulus enough to end his life, but not before he returned the favor for you as well.

It’s a horrific sight, the illusion of both of your bodies lying side by side. Your brother will find this out later, and be sick with grief. Regulus’ brother too, even if the taint of betrayal will make the whole scene wretched with wrongness. For now, though, you have no time to think of possible reactions nor the difficulty of what you are forcing your friends and family to endure. The only objective in your mind is how to destroy the horcruxes so that the war can be won.

Regulus knows of the first, a locket in a cursed lake somewhere deep underground. He takes you there first, and it takes him weeks to sleep off the aftereffects of that awful potion hiding the locket. Whenever you close your eyes, you see the rings of fire you had to conjure up to fight back the Inferi swarming from the lake, how they had emerged from the greenish lake ready to drag Regulus into the water the second he bent his head to drink.

Regaining the locket is an awful thing, destroying it more so. It takes the two of you several days before you’re able to do it for good, and all the while the accursed relic whispers lies in your ears, trying to convince you to abandon each other. When a wave of rage so strong it almost kills you makes you black out and slam the thing with the Killing Curse, it works at last. You’ve never used an Unforgivable Curse before. It takes surprisingly little willpower to do.

Regulus talks you through that. It’s easier to address the use of Avada Kedavra than the ugly truth both of you know, which is that there will be no guarantee that either of you will make it out of this infernal quest. It took everything in you to find and destroy the locket, which at least you knew about. What of the other horcruxes? How will you survive them, too?

The two of you travel across the country, listening in to wizarding news and doing your best to find out what the remaining horcruxes could be. You share space, you share secrets. You’ve never been closer to Regulus in your entire life. The thought that the two of you went a year or two without speaking after you left Hogwarts is unthinkable now. How could you breathe without him?

After dark, he lies awake, watching the light from a charmed lantern flit across the ceiling. He says, you don’t have to do this. Stay with him. Risk your life like this.

You prop yourself up on one elbow so you can get a better look at him. The furrows in his brow are more pronounced now, and the shadows under his eyes, which have been there since the day you met him, are now dark enough to look like the hollows of a skull. Of course I do. 

As if the universe meant to reward your faithfulness, you’re blessed with a clue the next day. Regulus recognizes a Death Eater furtively walking down a street and follows him, overhearing the man tell one of his friends that Lucius Malfoy was apparently given some strange token of the Dark Lord’s. They’re both jealous that they weren’t given Voldemort’s refuse, apparently, but their complainings are like music to your ears.

Malfoy’s item is a diary, and it writes pages of frantic scribblings in an attempt to save itself before Regulus hits it with Fiendfyre which, strangely enough, works. Stranger still was trying to break into Malfoy Manor to find a journal, but all’s well that ends well. You got in, you got out, and although there are definitely some house elves under Lucius’ employ that will wonder why they heard voices in the dark that one night, no one is the wiser.

The next secret you hear is not an item but a place, the family home of the Dark Lord’s mother. The two of you comb the place relentlessly until you find an old ring buried deep beneath the earth. Just to be sure, you check it for curses, and after a great deal of difficulty, are able to remove the dark enchantment before destroying it for good.

You lie awake that night, musing aloud before you can stop yourself. “We only barely caught the curse on that one. What if the other ones were enchanted as well and we didn’t know it?”

Regulus sits up, brushing dark hair out of his eyes so he can look at you. “What if we’re both going to die because we didn’t catch something in time, you mean?” He asks.

You nod reluctantly. “I don’t want to seem like I’m losing faith, because I’m not, but– I worry sometimes, you know?”

Regulus stands, takes both your hands in his palms and kisses them. “I rely on your worries, Y/N. They keep us alive. And no, I don’t think we’re cursed. Not yet, at least. If we were, I could at least die with you. That’s worth something, isn’t it?”

You laugh. “That’s morbid, Regulus.”

“But true,” he muses.

He tells you he loves you the next day. It feels like it’s been a long time coming. You have never been one to declare love immediately, but it’s different with Regulus, always has been. If you were in the mood to be honest, you would admit that you have been in love with him for years, ever since the two of you were small enough to hide in your brothers’ shadows and find each other there. You have loved him since the start. You will love him until the end.

Taking down the next horcrux is almost easy, if such things were allowed to be said. You’re fuelled by the hope that this might be the end. Standing over the shattered bits and pieces of Helga Hufflepuff’s Cup, you almost believe it. It’s funny, you always thought that you would somehow be able to tell when you finally destroyed the last of the horcruxes, like you could feel it in the air or something.

You feel nothing when the cup is destroyed. It scares you. You and Regulus have been extremely careful to keep yourselves hidden, but you dare to poke your heads out of the shadows for a little bit to determine if you were successful or not. Although you hear rumors that Voldemort seems weakened, that his forces have started losing battles despite him being at the helm of the attacks, he is not yet dead.

It’s heartbreaking. After all of your efforts, your trials and tribulations, every injury and weakness the two of you have sustained on the quest to defeat the Dark Lord, it still isn’t enough. You listen, you spend weeks and then a full month waiting for information, but nothing comes. There is no sign that there are any more horcruxes, but Voldemort has not died. How could it be so?

You come up with a tentative solution in the end, which is to go to Dumbledore for advice. In a way, it seems almost childish– why should the headmaster have any idea what to do, other than the fact that he led your school where the two of you first met and studied? Then again, Dumbledore is the most powerful wizard of his age. If anyone would know how to proceed, surely it would be him.

Regulus agrees readily enough, recognizing the necessity that if the two of you cannot find a way to continue on your journey, it will never end, and before long the two of you are Apparating near familiar territory and walking up to the castle on foot. You disguise your faces with a simple charm; the two of you are supposed to be dead, after all, but all it takes is one glance at you and Dumbledore is smiling and telling you that he’s glad to see two such familiar corpses up and about.

You laugh, you can’t help it, and remove the charm once you and Regulus are safely in Dumbledore’s office and out of sight. After explaining your predicament, Dumbledore sits for a moment in contemplative silence and then says at last, “It must be the diadem.”

You and Regulus exchange glances, then look back at him. “What diadem?” Regulus asks.

“The diadem of Rowena Ravenclaw, of course,” Dumbledore muses. “Tom Riddle– the Dark Lord, if you like your pleasantries– was captivated by the magic of the four founders of Hogwarts. You have told me already of Hufflepuff’s cup, this is the expected companion piece. It must be somewhere within the castle, but where– but where–”

He clears his throat after a lengthy pause. “I give both of you permission to scour the castle for it. I will caution the staff not to look too closely at either of you. Take however much time you need, but I would urge you to hurry. More of us die by the day, and it would do us no good to have our friends fall as a consequence of our own dillydallying.”

You look up at him. “And what happens after we destroy the diadem? It must be the last horcrux, or the last one he’s created so far. Will that kill him for good?”

“No,” Dumbledore murmurs, “that will end the horcruxes, not the monster who made them. Once the horcruxes are gone, he will be severely weakened and search for however has been hunting down his creations. You two are lucky that you have not died already, you know. I have no doubt that he has already begun attempts to stop you from completing your goal.”

You shudder, remembering past encounters. Death Eaters had nearly caught up to you many times, and on numerous occasions, they had, requiring firefights of spells and hexes before you and Regulus could escape to relative safety.

Beside you, Regulus tenses, obviously thinking along the same lines. “How do we survive once we destroy the last of the horcruxes? How do we stay out of his sight?”

Dumbledore sighs, weary and heavy. “I will put a stop to him,” he says at last, and that is that.

You and Regulus conjure up your charms once again, disguising your faces to all students who happen to pass by. You look in towers and dungeons, empty classrooms and great halls. It’s a mad memory rush being back here, and it is difficult not to mix memory with your current situation.

When a few hours of searching pass by, though, and neither of you have found even the slightest hint of a diadem, your fond musings are replaced by desperate anger. This is your last step, surely, if you could just find the thing. It would all be over if you could merely find one diadem in one castle.

Regulus leans against a nearby stone wall, eyes cast up to the sky in a plea for help. “Where would a diadem be? In the Ravenclaw dorm, maybe?”

You shake your head. “Dumbledore said it wouldn’t be there.”

You pace back and forth, trying to wrap your head around the issue. What other sections of the castle are particularly known to Rowena Ravenclaw? You’ll wear a path into the carpet beneath your feet while you try and think, but nothing seems to work until the wall opposite Regulus suddenly shifts away, revealing a door.

You and Regulus stare at the room that has appeared out of nowhere. “Do you remember a hidden room near here?” Regulus asks faintly.

You shake your head. “James loved tracking down every secret passage, and he told me most of them, but I don’t think even he knew about this one.”

It’s nice to have a first. You smile to yourself, then take Regulus’ hand when he offers it and walk inside the mysterious room.

The chamber is packed to the gills with objects great and small. It occurs to you that even if the diadem is somewhere in here, it could take years to sift through all this junk. You and Regulus look at each other, shrug, and each take a corridor in which to search. 

About half an hour has gone by before Regulus gives a shout. “Found it!”

You race over to his side, and stand, breathless, looking at the very same artifact that’s caught his attention. It’s old, dusty, and not particularly noteworthy, but it has this terrible feel to it that all of the horcruxes had in turn.

“This is it,” you whisper. One last shot. Then, the end.

Regulus lifts his wand, summons a tendril of Fiendfyre, which goes straight through the diadem, shattering it like glass. It’s silent for a moment, and then, when the last shard of the diadem falls to the ground with a quiet crunch, you’re both rocked backward by a boom like a cannon. This, at last, you can feel. This is it.

Dumbledore is waiting for you when the two of you emerge from the room. “I’ll take my leave of you,” he says, “and thank you.”

You nod. “What do we do now?” 

For a moment, despite the burden that has now been placed on your old headmaster’s shoulders, despite all the lives that have been lost and those that will still be taken, Dumbledore smiles. “You can go home.”

Sirius used to stay the night at the home of you and your brother, you remember that from your school days. It would then follow that, with everything in peril and friends disappearing by the day, Sirius would be at James’ right now. It certainly saves a trip for you and Regulus. Dumbledore gives you their address before you leave, and he tells you to waste no more time.

As if there is anything in the world that you want more than to see your family. You and Regulus Apparate a street or two down from the house, then walk over, hand in hand. Before you know it, you’re waiting on the threshold. The lights are on somewhere in the back of the house; you can hear voices, then a shout of a laugh you remember as Sirius’. It’s more quiet than it used to be, a little more hesitant. He’s lost a lot, the elder Black brother, but he’ll gain some today, too.

Regulus squeezes your hand. “Let’s come back from the dead,” he says.

You smile at him. “That sounds good to me.”

The doorbell echoes through the house, ceasing all conversation. There are slow footsteps to the door, a pause as someone looks through the peephole, and then all of a sudden the door has been flung open and you’re engulfed in a whirlwind of a hug. Your brother is here, your brother is lifting you off the ground with the force of his embrace, and it’s been so, so long since you’ve seen him, but you’re back again, and everything is okay at last.

James’ eyes are as wide as saucers when he finally leans away to get a good look at you. “Y/N, you’re– I swear, if you’re a Death Eater using Polyjuice, I will hurt you so badly–”

You laugh. “I’m me, James. Just me. If you want proof, though, I offer up the memory of when you were a first year and totally in love with Lily and you had me–”

James cuts you off quickly. “Alright, alright. It’s you. God, it’s you.”

A figure appears behind James, and a quiet voice asks, “Regulus?”

James moves aside so Sirius can see his brother. Regulus stands perfectly still, says, “We tried to fix it, Sirius, we hurt him, the Dark Lord, we–”

Regulus told you years ago that he wasn’t that affectionate with his brother. It’s to be expected, of course, divisions between brothers rarely settle themselves sweetly. You suppose that’s why Regulus looks so stunned when Sirius reaches out an arm and hugs him. You’re not sure if he’s trying to crush his younger brother or just make sure that he’s actually real, but they both look vaguely confused when it’s over. Happy, though. Glad to be alive.

The news will come out later that week that Voldemort is dead. Dumbledore did what was promised and killed him. That means the war is over, and that means you can rest at last. You’ll get a place to stay with Regulus. The thought of leaving him now that the two of you can be together without fear is unthinkable. You don’t want to be without him, and thanks to your suffering on the path to destroy the horcruxes, you won’t have to.

Dawn breaks. And you think– you think this might be it. Not a harsh end, but a soft one. A quiet aftermath. You’ll live, and Regulus will too. That’s more than you expected during those months on the run. When the two of you went to sleep unsure if you’d wake up in the morning, your wildest dreams could not encapsulate the wonderful life you have right now. It is marvelous, and it is yours. That is all. 

requested by @bookishirishdancer, i hope you enjoy!

harry potter tag list: @rogueanschel, @cameronsails, @neewtmas, @lovesanimals0000, @with-inked-solace, @sher-lokid7, @eclliipsed, @frenchgirlinlondon, @23victoria, @ilovexavierthrope

[euphoricfilter]

more silent love:

pairing: jungkook x reader

genre: fluff || non-idol au

summary: jungkook’s book of silent love

tags/ warnings: more fluff, they’re in love it’s kinda sickening, more silent ways to say i love you. i am once again sleepy and thinking of the cute kinda love

notes: part two of this fic, but can be read as a standalone :D

where you can find all my other work!!

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆.

The list of silent love is a forever growing one. 

A small notebook sits on the kitchen table, one you had never bothered to pick up. Though Jungkook likes to spend quiet evenings alone, handwriting far from legible as he scribbles down each of these precious moments.

Memories set in stone as the ink seeps into flimsy paper; perfect, beautiful, love tucked between pages like his own little secret. 

As of late, the both of you spend Sunday afternoons learning how to bake bread. A new type of loaf every week, flour clinging to clothes and smiles tugging at both your lips. It had become your own personal mission to never buy bread again, taking hours out the afternoon, simply basking in the company of one another as you learn something new. 

He finds himself associating the smell of fresh bread to you. Quirk of a smile tugging at his cheeks as he walks past bakeries, fleeting memory of you in the forefront of his mind. A permanent home you've burrowed.

Jungkook, of course, likes to make you sandwiches with your homemade bread. Some mornings waking up, quietly slipping out of bed before you wake to pack you lunch, sweet little note slipped into your bag before he hears your footsteps patter out the bedroom, sluggish as you wake up. 

And on those mornings your patience wears a little too thin, the world a little too much for you to take so early in the day; Jungkook will make sure to sit you down in front of the vanity. Where he detangles your hair ever so gently. Careful as he helps you put your earrings in– he’d gotten quite good over time, learning how to match your jewellery to what you were wearing. Observant in all your favorite pieces that he knew he could never go wrong with. 

Every night as he showers, you sit yourself up on the kitchen counter, reaching for Jungkook’s favorite herbal teas. And every night, as he dries his hair, slinking into the kitchen, there will always be a tea there waiting for him.

He wonders how you’d learnt to time it perfectly. Knowing when to pour the hot water with just enough time before he gets out of the shower where the temperature is perfect. So he can easily slip under a blanket with you, your cold feet warmed up between his thighs as he sips sleepy tea and you doze off beside him. 

He’d learnt you loved when he made you heart-shaped pancakes. And as much as he always eyes the cute little pancake pans online, there will always be something slightly more rewarding about his own hand-crafted hearts that have you giggling into his mouth– lips syrup sticky and sweet. That slight effort more just to see you smile forever lighting up his life. 

He likes to watch you smile as you re-read your favourite books. Where he’d taken time out of his lunch breaks to respond to all the annotations you’d made on your first read through.

He’d glance up at you from his phone as the pen glides across the page, your own mind conjuring up replies to his questions and comments. Like that in itself was its own love language. Silent words slipped between pages of stories that aren't your own, words that only the two of you will ever see. A glimpse into your mind and in return a peek into his.

Every time he is the cause of your smile, his chest goes warm and his heart feels fluttery and light. So gooey warm and raw and lovely and so many words, so many thoughts and feelings all at once he will never be able to truly explain it in words. And maybe that’s why he likes to write down all the precious moments you share. Because that is love. The epitome of love in every sense of the word and it's meaning and yet, it's more than that.

It is your shared love in words without fancy vocabulary and poems and unheard confessions of adoration that will never leave the corners of his mind. Simply unreadable gibberish to hold each of these moments in time, cradled against his beating heart, so that even when the both of you leave this world, part of your love will live forever between the pages of that book. 

Because that's what your love is. An eternal thing that will dance between the stars after death and kiss the both of you in your graves as you blossom into new life. Sure to meet one another again no matter where you end up.

You are Jungkook's forever, even if that means he has to scour the earth to find that little notebook, to relive those memories and learn to love you the right way again.

[misserabella]

hi! i’m not sure if your requests are open but i’d love if you could write something where the reader works at a tattoo shop as a receptionist or manager and ellie goes in one day and becomes obsessed w her. then she keeps going in and getting more and more tattoos just to see reader? it could end in smut or something sweeter. it’s up to you. i love your writing, thank you!! <33

no cause she’d absolutely fall for you and waste all her money on tattoos to see you again

INK LUST LOVE

ellie williams x fem! reader

cw; +18 content, minors dni!, flirting, switch ellie and reader, sex in a public space (tattoo shop bathrooms), needy sex, fingering (both ellie and reader receiving), making out…

the first time she saw you, she swore the world had just stopped. like in the movies. you were so beautiful it made her go weak in the knees.

“hi! can i help you with something?” oh shit. were you talking to her? you were. your voice was so sweet… oh shit she had to answer.

“i’m yeah… i mean. uh… i’m ellie.” shit. explain. “i have a tattoo scheduled? for 15:30?” she said, cheeks flushed and stuttering.

she wanted to kick herself.

you smiled at her. you smiled! oh shit, her heart was doing flips.

“let me check…” you mumbled under your breath, looking. “here you are. ellie williams. 15:30.” you nodded, and she tried to not let show how fucking much it affected her hear you calling her by her name. it sounded beautiful coming from you. “i’ll go see how jesse is doing, give me a second.” you smiled once again, and she nodded, pushing her shaky and sweaty hands on her pockets.

“els!” jesse smiled, and ellie smiled back, waving at him. “come on in. i just need to sterilize the table and we’ll start.” she nodded, and went ahead to get into the room. you gave her a smile that she returned before the door closed behind back and she was finally able to smack jesse. “hey! what the hell was that about?”

“why didn’t you tell me your receptionist was so fucking beautiful?!” she inquired, completely pissed off.

“who? y/n?”

y/n, y/n, y/n…

a pretty name for a pretty girl.

“she just started. how the hell would i know she’d be your type?”

“dude. she’s everyone’s type. have you seen her?” she inquired in disbelief.

“yeah, i see her everyday. and if you have forgotten… i already have dina.” he smiled and ellie groaned.

“gross.”

“whatever.” jesse rolled his eyes. “let’s get started, we have hours ahead.”

-

Ellie came back not a week later. And you received her just the same, only this time you remembered her name. And of course you did. She was hot.

“Ellie! Back so soon?” her cheeks flushed. You looked beautiful, with a floral dress that let show your pretty legs. It’s not as if you hadn’t been dressing up just in case she would come back, of course not…

“Uh… Hi. Yeah, want to get my arm finished.” she smiled, pointing to her right arm, where Jesse had added more to her principal tattoo the last time.

“Looks beautiful. Can I see?” you inquired her and her cheeks flushed as she muttered a ‘sure’ and reached her arm towards you. You gently took it, taking a look at the ink. Your touch was burning her. She needed more. Her breath hitched when your fingertips caressed the tattoos on her skin. You touched her like she was made of glass. A softness she had never experienced before. It made her heart ache. She took her time to look at you. At your beautiful face, plump lips, long lashes and beautiful eyes. She was love struck. You smiled, ‘cause she looked so cute all embarrassed…

“Ellie, you ready?” suddenly Jesse’s voice caught her attention and you let go of her. She already missed your warmth.

“Uh yeah.” she nodded and you smiled at her.

“See you later.” you said, your voice sultry, eyes looking into her emerald ones.

“Yeah, see you later.”

-

Ellie was there almost every day, and somethimg you'd noticed is that she always found a way to make you laugh. She was observant and attentive too. She’d bring Jesse and you some refreshments and snacks (not because he cared about him, but you. She just needed to be subtle). She was not. You knew that she was into you, and you were into her. You had been trying to let her know, but she didn’t seem to get it. Anyways…

Your favorite was this chocolate bars that she’d buy just for you. They were so sweet… Just what you needed to get through an stressful and tiring day.

“And that’s when I told him that he should totally go for it, it was obvious Dina liked him back.” she laughed, rolling her eyes as she took a bite of her own bit of the chocolate she had brought.

“Shit.” she said, looking at her now stained and sticky fingers. “Do you have a…”

But before she could even ask for a napkin or something to wipe it off you were taking her hand and pushing her fingers inside your mouth to lick it off yourself. Her eyes shot open as your tongue met her skin, and you looked at her, humming at the taste. Maybe you took more time than necessary to leave her clean, but by the way her cheeks had dusted in pink you though she hadn’t mind. Oh she didn’t. Not one bit.

The air was thick around the two of you. You had been slowly throwing hints at her direction. Ellie was hot. And sweet. And you liked her. And you knew she liked you too. So you had decided that since subtle didn’t seem to work…

“Jesse is not in for another 30 minutes…” you said as you popped her fingers out of your mouth.

She cleared her throat, trying to act as if she wasn’t completely soaking her boxers. She liked you too fucking much for her own good.

“Bathroom?” she inquired and you smirked, tugging from her hand not after having turned the ‘open’ sign to ‘closed’.

Her heart was thumping inside her chest as you took her with you to the private bathrooms, and she was moaning as soon as the door was getting closed behind her back, your lips on her neck.

“Shit. You really are thick, aren’t you?” you groaned, one of her hands on your hair and the other on your waist. “Been trying to get you all by myself since weeks ago.” her body was shaking. Shit. Was this a dream?

“Fuck…” she groaned when you sucked on that spot that drove her insane, your hands cupping her tits, free under her white tank top.

“Can I?” you breathlessly said against her lips, your fingers on the button of her jeans. She nodded, not before kissing you. Her kiss was needy, and her tongue was hungry inside your mouth. You moaned, and quickly pushed her pants and boxers down. She did the same with your own and panties.

“Jesus Christ.” she moaned when her hand cupped your cunt. You were soaking wet. Her fingers played with your clit as yours slid through her soaking folds. You two looked like a mess. Making out like teenagers in heat in the first hidden place you could find.

You plunged one of your fingers inside of her cunt. “So tight…” you muttered and she groaned, fucking your pussy with her own as you touched each other. Your lips were on her nipples, sucking and biting. She was going insane.

“Fuck. What are you doing to me?” she sighed, her eyes watering and lips bruises and swollen.

You whimpered when her fingers curled against your g spot. Slick sounds were filling the bathroom as you fucked each other. You were grunting against each other, her lips now on your own neck, sucking bruises as you tugged on her hair. “More.” you begged, and she fucked you harsher, adding a third finger that stretched you out so good it almost hurt. But it hurt so good.

“Fuck. I want to taste you.” she said, and you moaned. “Been wanting to eat you out since the first time I saw you. I’m so fucking close…” she moaned and your eyes rolled to the back of your head.

“Ellie… I’m gonna cum.” you breathlessly said and she kissed you, the two of you moaning into each other’s lips as you tightened around the other’s fingers. You two came with a groan, lazily lapping into each other’s mouth as your cum stained your thighs and fingers.

You fucked each other through it, you were whimpering at her praises. “Good girl. That’s it. Fuck. So good…” you hold onto her, gasping for air as you rode it down.

After a sloppy and slow kiss, she pulled away, caressing your cheek.

“Date?” she inquired with her voice weak and dazed glassy eyes. You smiled before kissing her again.

“My house. 8PM.” and she laughed.

-

a/n; hope you liked it! <3

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

I love science experiment!reverse!! But I need more science experiment!reverse reader and everyone's favorite grandpa and butler Alfred!! Extra fluffy pls!! 💕💕💕

Bruce rubbed the bridge of his nose. Boys were simple. He could understand the ebb and flow of those emotions. The triggers and what made them tick.

But even with the way everything you felt swirling around you like an undertow, he couldn't make sense of today. Today, it felt like... a different sort of hell. You were keeping to yourself. Avoiding everyone.

Days of sleep deprivation and struggling to eat anything. Nightmares and a perpetual fear of cages. Nothing anyone said or did could draw you out of your hiding places. And it worried him.

He stopped at the kitchen door, and took a deep breath. Alfred was baking. And talking. Keeping up, it seemed, a running commentary trying to explain to you what was happening on his soap opera.

"But why-"

"Because, my dear," Alfred said, cheerfully, wrapping a pan on the counter, "Dramatics and theatrics are always entertaining as long as they aren't happening to you."

"It's just so much," you murmur.

"Well, of course it is. It's been on the air for 35 years. They have to justify the airtime somehow."

"The guy in the suit is a jerk. I don't like him."

"You aren't supposed to like Stefan. You're supposed to love to hate him," Alfred chuckled. And Bruce hears the sound of the oven door opening and a pan being slid out and another pan taking place.

You make a soft thoughtful noise and Bruce smiles a little. some of the hellish storm you'd been living in seems to have faded, even if it wasn't entirely gone. And he's dying to peer around the corner and see what's happening but- he doesn't want to draw attention to himself. You're tired and discombobulated. That's the only reason you haven't fled.

But then, Alfred had some experience with strays. And he had nieces. So as Bruce listened to him, fussing without fussing. Just letting you respond when you wanted to respond instead carrying on his monologue with spaces for you to break in if you felt like it.

"- Alright," he said, "Now you just try that and tell me it isn't marvelous."

"I think my mom used to make cinnamon rolls on Christmas morning," you murmur. And Bruce can hear the frown. Like You're trying to remember. Like you're squinting at water-smeared ink on a page.

"You think?" Alfred asked

"There's- There's a lot I don't remember. I don't really remember what they look like anymore either."

"I don't have a cure for that," Alfred admitted. And Bruce heard the sound of a plate and fork being pushed towards you. "But, there's no day a hot cinnamon bun and a few hours of horrid soap operas can't make a little better."

"The stories are sad."

"Then perhaps," Alfred suggested, "we'll find something more cheerful."

[temis-de-leon]

Dear MC... My Beloved MC...

Characters: Satan x gn!reader

500 followers masterlist

Main Masterlist

Prompts used: confession + accidental confession + sneaking glances + love letter

.

You’re being obvious.

Too damn much.

MC’s words repeated in their mind for well over an hour, but nothing could stop them from ignoring the book on their lap to look at Satan instead. Thankfully, he was distracted with the latest edition of Every Devildom’s Cat Enthusiast’s Encyclopedia, but there was still a thin line between discreetly checking him out and blatantly staring at him for a whole evening and MC would soon cross it if they didn’t control themselves.

But how could they?

Trying to ignore his presence after all they discovered was humanly impossible and, unfortunately, they were very much human.

But something didn’t make sense, not coming from him. If MC had to use a word to describe Satan, that would be blunt. Sure, he was intelligent, pragmatic and quite adorable when it came to his dear feline friends, but above all, he was direct and unafraid to share his true thoughts. That didn’t mean he was inconsiderate, however. On the contrary, he made them feel seen and heard, ensuring they were well cared for and happy.

The words in his letters said so. His wish was to see them thrive and to be by their side the whole time, sharing memories and holding each other. MC wondered, feeling both guilty and honoured, how much of his expensive stationery he had wasted in writing all those confessions only for them to end up covered in blots of ink and discarded under his bed and his endless pile of books.

Although they had to admit, their name was prettier in his handwriting, even when crossed out.

Satan gasped in the chair before them, suddenly breaking the peace of the library and making MC’s heart beat its way up their throat. They looked at him with blushed cheeks, afraid of the possibility of having been caught, but the demon was purely focused on his encyclopedia. His eyes were wide open in fascination, no doubt marvelling at the discovery of a new cat fact.

“Look, MC!” he shouted in a whisper despite them being the only ones in the room. MC could only watch and hope the chimney explained the warmth in their cheeks as Satan got up and sat on their chair’s armrest. He showed them a picture of a medieval painting. The ugliest rendition of a cat stared, with what looked like existential dread, at MC’s soul. “Do you think there were cats that looked like this back then?”

“I sure hope not” they mustered, not moving their sight out of the picture to avoid his gaze. “It looks like Belphie drew it”

The breath of his chuckle reached them and MC had to force themselves to not get startled and recoil, even when their shoulders ached to shrink and hide their exposed skin. Fortunately, he didn’t seem to realise that.

“Are you liking the book?

“Hm? The book…?”

Oh, yeah.

The book.

The whole reason why they went to his room in the first place.

In reality, MC already had said book and so did the bookshelves in the library, just not the same edition as him, which had the hand-written letters the characters themselves sent to each other in the story, maps and author notes regarding the lore and the investigation behind it.

It was a murder mystery fused with an impossible love. Also, the protagonist had a playful, yet lazy cat.

It was right up Satan’s alley.

And he had wanted to share it with them.

However, he happened to forget about his own love letters, thrown across the floor of his room in frustration and visible to anyone who dared open the door.

“You know I already like it” said MC with a nervous laugh, thankful for already reading the book days ago. “Though, I admit, the cover is beautiful”

“I’m glad you agree! I know the artist who did it, actually”

Now, why wasn’t that surprising?

MC fondly smiled as they listened to him, not so subtly studying his features, illuminated by the fireplace, and the curve of his smile when he talked.

“His wife is his muse and he uses flowers for hidden meanings. These on the cover mean something like undying love and trust; the dog represents loyalty, but I think a cat would’ve been better”

That managed to finally make them laugh, which caught his attention. He stared at them in surprise and poorly hidden tenderness, leaning over them to put his arm behind their back. MC tried to stare back, his written words reverberating in their mind more than any other time during the evening, but the weight of the silence was too much to bear.

“So what’s your…”

“I have to tell you…”

MC stopped talking, cheeks flushed in deep embarrassment as he also stayed quiet and nodded his head to ask them to continue, but it was like they’d forgotten how to talk. What was he going to say? Was he going to keep talking about the book? And what were they going to say?

Yeah, so I have to tell you something. When I went for this romance book to your room I saw all the different ways you love me. Isn’t that cool or what?

They’d rather die.

“You have to tell me…?”

“Nothing!” they interrupted him in a hurry, drowning even deeper in shame when his face contorted in surprise, eyes open wide and eyebrows raised. Lowering their face to avoid looking at him, MC grabbed the book until their knuckles turned white and got up, back facing him the entire time. “I’m going to get a shower; talk to you after dinner”

They were lucky they didn’t trip on the carpet, seeing how fast they fled the room. Falling in front of him after all of that was truly the last thing they needed, but they hoped an entire waterfall of warm water and a homecooked dinner would be enough to help them relax and think straight before coming clean to him.

.

.

Except they didn’t even get to dinner.

Perhaps an hour after the mortifying situation, MC found themselves staring at their blurry silhouette in the foggy mirror while tightening a towel around themselves. They were trying to enjoy the remnants of the warmth, vapour still floating in the air, but their mind was too busy and their heart was about to go crazy.

The ink from their name bleeding on the paper as Satan’s indecision had stopped him from finishing the letters remained in their mind, mixing with every part of their body and making them smile like a child with an earnest crush. A part of them regretted ever entering the room, consequently ruining the surprise of being confessed to, but the relief of knowing he loved them back was bigger and more powerful.

Oh, how they wished they could ignore everything and let him confess when he seemed fit, but witnessing such a vulnerable part of him without his knowing left a sour taste in their mouth; the best MC could do was admit what they’d seen and confess their own feelings while they were at it.

With a sudden sense of courage, they got out of the bathroom, immediately jerked at the coldness of the room, and went straight to their closet to get dressed. No one would care if they had dinner in their nightclothes; worse things had happened in that house. However, as soon as they finished and closed the drawer, a pounding rattled the door.

“MC!”

It was Satan, and he sounded impatient. Not like they could blame him.

What would it be better, open the door for him or allow him to enter? In that case, should they welcome him standing or sitting down? On the bed, the table? Cross-legged…? Would he think they were mocking him if they smiled? Should they stay serious?

“Are you there?” he asked with a tinge of nerves. A couple of seconds later, the doorknob slightly twisted, a sign of someone on the other side hesitating to open.

“Yes!” answered MC, rushing to let him in while mentally scolding themselves for the impulsiveness; but just as they were about to grab the knob, the door came right at them and a flash of yellow and green appeared in their vision, blue eyes in the midst of it all.

There were a few moments of silence between them and MC used them all to study his expression. Embarrassment, apprehension, hope… His cheeks were blushing furiously and he was avoiding eye contact, just like they had done to him at the library before.

“I won’t dance around the subject” he said. Blunt. Satan took a hand to his chest as if trying to subdue the beating of his heart and finally asked the dreaded question. “You saw the letters, didn’t you?”

It was only fair to be direct as well.

“Yes”

“So you know”

That wasn’t a question, but MC still felt the need to confirm it.

“I do”

I do too, they wanted to say. I love you too. But Satan beat them to it, closing the door behind him to give them more privacy.

“This wasn’t how I envisioned it, you know? I was just practising because I wanted it to be perfect, but nothing sounded right. Why I fell for you, how I feel for you, what I want for us… There were too many things I tried to say, but I feared it would be excessive for a letter and I kept correcting it. I realize now that I should’ve been more direct in my approach, so, MC: I love you. And I always will. I can only wish you feel the same”

His sincerity was overwhelming and it covered them in a coat of warmth. His eyes were glossy with hope, but his lips barely formed a smile, not daring to get ahead.

“Tell me all those things” finally said MC as loud as they could manage, barely a whisper. “I promise it won’t be enough”

They just hoped no one would come and ruin the moment.

.

.

Taglist: @ilovecandys2010  @ollieoven @kingofspadesdelusion @whimsybloom @tinyweebsstuff

@ay-chuu 🫶🏻

[yuri-is-online]

Sorry for making you explain all the yutus but can you do Jades? Bros gotta be so overprotective 😬

Jokes on you I am always down to talk about Jade Leech (my beloved)

notes: they/them used for Yuu, for context on the fyuuture kid au can be found here and here. I think I typed up way more for this than anyone else up to this point, I'd apologize but it has been a second since I brain rotted about Jade, so excuse me for feeding myself (づ_ど)

Put yourself in Jade's shoes for a second.  He is a merfolk from the coral sea, only able to appear human through the use of a potion but still retaining his inhuman features.  He tries hard to appear human, he goes to a boot camp where so many things have to be explained that he is able to mimic but doesn't fully understand.  There's no reason for you to like him, he knows that better than anyone; he doesn't fully understand why he's attracted to you himself but he is.  And he longed after you for so long, he was drowning in his desire that had such a little chance of being reciprocated but by some miracle it was.  You stay in Twisted Wonderland, you let him take you under the sea and agree to be kept there.  You're going to give him a family, he's beyond excited and filled with feelings of love he didn't think he'd ever get to have.

And then it's gone.  There's no evidence as to why, no one to tell him where you went.  Azul starts off confident, excited at the prospect of revenge and encouraging Jade.  They'll find them, between him, Jade, and Floyd they'll find Yuu and someone will have a very bad day.  But there's nothing, they're being lied to and stonewalled at every turn and when finally (it's been 10 months 3 weeks and two days, he could count down to the hours and seconds but who would listen?) Riddle of all people contacts them with a lead, he's dead almost immediately.  Turned into a phantom, all of those friends of yours he was so jealous of too… no one is telling him but he knows.  You're not coming back, he's never going to meet your child, he failed at a moray's one job of protecting his cleaner shrimp.  When he's alone he talks to you both sometimes, nights when you can see the stars are becoming increasingly rare as the sky flares up with ink but he likes to think you found your way up to the sky.  

When he loses Floyd and Azul he sort of loses his will to live.  The only thing that keeps him going is the promise of one day being able to lay them both to rest eventually, but until then he bar tends at NRC and listens to all the little things people talk about when the world is ending. If he was in a better place he'd probably find it funny how lose people's lips are getting, Azul’s business would be doing so well if he were here now…

That's what he's doing one day in September when one of the mage students runs up to him out of breath, Sehrish he thinks her name is?  

“The headmage needs you in the hospital wing!”  She sounds scared, out of breath like she's run the whole way and Jade is just curious enough to go.  Something spurs him on to run himself, through the mirror and into the wing and-  

He doesn't even hesitate, his body acts before his brain does launching him towards you and grasping desperately at your hands.  They're cold, you're going cold and he doesn't have the warmth in his body to give you.  Something has mercy on him and let's your eyes open just the bit as you reach just as desperate to be close to him as he is to you and he feels your strength pass into him.  

“Don't apologize.”  He manages to whisper.  

“But I'm sorry.”  You cry.  “I love you so much and I couldn't forget even though they wanted me to.”  

“Who did this.  Who took you just name them and I promise you my pearl-”  he gets to kiss you one more time before your gone.  Jade doesn't move, he thinks Crewel is yelling for his attention but he can't move, he wants to stay here forever he has to protect you, why wasn't he able to protect you?!

“Oh holy fuck that tastes bad.”  There's a dazed voice Jade has never heard before, heavy with sorrow, and though he doesn't quite have it yet, Jade feels purpose begin to return to his heart.

Jade! Yutu is a menace.  I like the idea of him being some form of punk or goth, with piercings and a few tattoos that Yuu doesn't know anything about.  He grew up with a small group of close knit alt friends who would come over to Yuu's house and shoot the shit.  Yuu was really popular with Yutu's friends actually, he had mixed feelings about that. (No, his parent isn't accepting step-father applications, Joshua, keep running your mouth and see what happens)

Has a mixed ranged of emotions about his parent's amnesia. When he was younger not knowing who his dad was made him really sad, he'd listen to other kids talk about doing things with their fathers and he'd dream about doing them with his dad, but the picture was always blurry and felt just... wrong somehow. As he gets older and starts forming his world view he starts to think his dad might have left Yuu for any number of reasons. Did it happen before or after their amnesia, that's what he wants to know.

He has a pretty big problem with authority, residual trauma from the trip across worlds he thinks now… but back in your world he just didn't see the point of respecting someone just because they have more money and power than him.  Almost everyone does, that doesn't make them special!  But he's so sneaky about it, if it weren't for his clothes or his friends Yuu would hardly know what he gets up to in his spare time. It put a bit of strain on their relationship, Yutu sees his lies as something he does to protect his parent, while Yuu sees themselves as well.  A parent.  Who is the one who should be protecting their child not the other way around.  

When he tries to pull similar stunts with Original Timeline! Jade he gets a rude awakening. He tries sneaking out to meet up with some friends only to find his dad sitting with them, polite smile on his face clearly reveling in how awkward he is making this.  Oya, did Yutu think he was being slick?  He's hurt, no really this is the first time Jade has had to fake cry in years, he'd almost forgot how.  Didn't Yutu ever wonder where he got this from?  Because he had to know it wasn't Yuu.

Jade! Yutu also played in a band in middle school and also played bass, it just wasn't a jazz trio or an upright bass.  He would have liked continued to play in bands, but he shares his dad's issues with stage fright which makes it sort of difficult. He has tried his hand at writing his own music from time to time, but he's waaaaay too shy to ever play it for anyone other than the woods.

He really likes horror stories and cryptids, so he wasn't super afraid of the monsters when he first arrived in Twisted Wonderland.  One round with Phantom Riddle changed that nonchalant attitude quick, and while he still is very attached to the stuff he read about back in your world he hates blot monsters and Twisted Wonderland fiends in general.

Speaking of those monsters, Jade hates Yutu fighting them.  Father and son are an absolute nightmare for Crewel to deal with, one is threatening to drown him if Yutu is allowed to fight, the other is screaming curse words and saying it doesn't matter what Crewel does, he's going anyway.  He needs a drink (but not from Jade's bar he's going to get poisoned) 

I don't think Yutu actually told Jade he was planning on going back in time because he was angry and just assumed that he would try and stop him.  He's really proud of himself for the first few weeks he spends in the past thinking he got one over on his old man finally (he didn't, but he did hurt him quite a bit), but the more he interacts with the younger version of his parents the more he starts to regret that decision.

Past Jade is so… fun.  He thinks his dad is fun?!  His weird obsession with mushrooms was never something they talked about beyond a few compliments his dad gave to a mushroom patch he had on his jacket; watching his old man prattle on now he never would have guessed any of this.  Yutu never doubted that Jade loved you, but he didn't really think about what that looked like, or what you might have meant to Jade.  They just didn't talk about it, now that he's forced to think about it Jade was probably trying to focus on having him back and how lucky he was to even have that.  And instead of being honest about how angry he was to have lost you he lied and said he was fine.  With how good his dad was at knowing when he was lying Jade had to know that's how he felt, but respected his boundaries and didn't push. All those comments about being there when he's ready to talk, all the times Jade said he loved him, and those long nights he watched from afar as Jade sat with tea next to your grave, just talking to you as if you were still there are put into context. Yutu isn't able to sleep for a few nights after that.

Jade finds Yutu interesting.  He's a potential source of information about Yuu, a lot of his quirks remind him of himself and he finds the new kids blatant disrespect for authority to be hilarious! And hilariously good blackmail material, now now don't be afraid he really is just here to help...

"Nice try old man you won't pull shit out of me." Yutu sounds smug, but Jade knows when his spell has worked and when it hasn't; how delightful he doesn't seem to remember someone ever being so cocky about it before.

"That's a shame." He makes sure to make his face fall to keep the new kid off his guard as he continues his questioning. "It's just I am curious where did you come from? I thought Yuu's world doesn't have magic."

"I mean it doesn't, probably never would have been able to come back in time if I was still stuck there." Yutu blinks, clarity starting to come into view as Jade pushes through the surprise to ask a final question.

"Oya? And just why did you come back in time, were you worried about Yuu?"

"Of course I'm worried about my parent what sort of stupid question is-" Yutu returns to himself and treats Jade to a look of shock so rare and downright delightful he can't help but smile himself. "Hey just what did you do?"

Old man? What a disrespectful thing to call his father, no wonder his future self never told his son about his unique magic. Jade doesn't have time to doubt his affections for Yuu, once Yutu realizes he's fucked and can't get out of admitting that was the truth he tells Jade who he is and a bit about what the future is like. Jade can tell he's keeping a few details back, but he knows himself well enough to know that everything Yutu is describing would have changed him to a degree that he might not have been in the best mental space to help his son through the loss of Yuu.

Speaking of Yuu, Jade asks Yutu to keep his existence to himself for a bit. He wants to win over your affections without the help of the future looming in your thoughts, he only gets to have this part of his life with you once and he intends to savor it. But the confidence boost he gets from knowing you do end up as his mate does have him acting a bit goofy for a bit. Floyd and Azul are legitimately scared.

They are brought up to speed as Jade insists on introducing Yutu to them "properly" and he is every inch the proud father showing off their new baby to the relatives even though Yutu is practically his height and has a bunch of piercings. Floyd takes a liking to him immediately while Azul is a bit more awkward, not that he doesn't like Yutu he's just a lot different from anyone Azul has ever met before so he's unsure how to sell himself. Luckily he doesn't have to because Yutu appreciates his genuine self just like Floyd, Jade, and Yuu do.

Jade gladly invites Yutu to join the Mountain Lover's Club and is very excited when he says yes. Yutu finds a lot of enjoyment in helping his dad work mushrooms into Azul and Floyd's food by pretending to agree with their complaints. Floyd is so mad he calls Yuu and tells them to come get their kid.

The over protectiveness doesn't end exactly, but Yutu is more willing to understand and Jade is more able to explain himself. They're both extremely protective of Yuu and in sound agreement that nothing like Yutu's future can ever be allowed to come to pass. Jade wanted a family, so to learn that he got that and someone took it away from him? Future him was overwhelmed with grief but current him is overwhelmed with rage. Remember book four? He described what he would do to someone who betrayed him, and it wasn't pretty. His plans for whoever did this to his precious mate and child is going to get so much worse.

[ikeromantic]

Ikesen Boys React to Tattooed MC pt 1

This was an ask from @otomedad that I just had to write. I did some reading up on the history of tattooing in Japan and there was so much that I found super interesting. So! Here goes, starting with Nobunaga, Hideyoshi, and Masamune! Approx. 1500 words.

Nobunaga

“What’s this, fireball?”

You feel Nobunaga’s breath tickle your shoulder blade, his lips so close they almost brush your skin. For a moment, you don’t know what he means. It’s hard to think when parts of you are being ‘claimed’, afterall. But you smile as the memory comes back to you. Sitting on a stool, arms braced on the counter in front of you, with the buzz of the tattoo gun in your ear. “You like my koi?”

His fingers brush the inked design, tracing the outline of the leaping fish. “It is very well done.” He does not sound pleased, though he’s trying to hide it.

“You don’t.” A slight pout draws your lips out and down. 

Nobunaga stills behind you, so motionless that you don’t even feel him breathing. Just as you are about to break the silence, he wraps his arms around you, pulling your back against his chest. “It is part of you, so it is beautiful.” His chin rests on your shoulder, just above the tattoo in question. “Why did you receive this mark?”

There is an unexpected tension in his voice, and you laugh to ease it before explaining. “I got it after I graduated from design. It represents my struggles, and my determination.” You turn your head to kiss his cheek. 

He regards you with a serious expression, tense despite your affection. 

“Do you really hate it?” You can’t help how vulnerable you feel as you meet his carnelian gaze.

“I told you. It is beautiful, as you are. But . . .” He pauses, a slight grimace crossing his expression. “I do not like that someone marked you. Someone else claimed this -” He leans back to spread his hand over the koi. “Every part of you is mine.”

“Are you jealous of my tattoo artist?” You grin, unable to hold back. “You know I picked the design and the colors and everything, right? He was just some guy with a good flash book . . .”

Nobunaga’s frown does not ease, though you know that he’s aware this is ridiculous. 

You snuggle back against him. “Alright, alright. I understand. If you could do tattoos, I’d get one from you, ok?”

Something mischievous flickers in his gaze and a slight smile turns up the corners of his mouth. “Yes. This is acceptable.”

You aren’t sure what he’s accepting. Nobunaga can’t do tattoos, right? Right? Whatever questions you have disappear as his lips find that sensitive spot at the back of your neck. 

Hideyoshi

You roll up your sleeves to start working on the kitchen’s herb garden. The day is warm and sunny, promising a hot afternoon. It’s a good thing you’re starting early. 

About an hour into the weeding, Hideyoshi stops by with a tray of cool water and a wide straw hat. He kneels beside you. “You know it’s bad for your skin to be exposed to sunlight for so long. Even in the morning, you can’t -” He stops midword, his mouth hanging open.

“Hm?” You look up, dusting your hands off. Before you can ask anything else, Hideyoshi grabs your elbow.

“What is this?” 

You realize he’s pointing at the serpent tattoo on your forearm. The snake curls over itself in a complex circle, with the head pointing at your wrist and the tale toward your elbow. “Oh! Erm,” you give an embarrassed laugh. “That.”

“I knew you couldn’t be trusted.” Hideyoshi holds your arm up, inspecting it. “A thief. I should have guessed. What prefecture is this? Where are you really from?” The questions come lightning fast, his usual gentle lecturing tone replaced with a hard, brittleness that does not suit him at all.

“A thief? Are you serious right now?” You try to yank your arm back, going from bewildered to angry. 

Hideyoshi pulls you up to standing. “If you won’t answer my questions, maybe you’ll answer Mitsuhide’s.” He glares at you. “I can’t believe I - I called you my sister!” 

You take a breath, trying to hold in the tears suddenly threatening at the corners of your eyes. Sister. Why was this man so infuriating? First putting you in the sis-zone, and now accusing you. As if you hadn’t shared so many sweet moments. Almost-kisses. Holding hands. “Why are you freaking out about my tattoo?”

“It marks you as a criminal.” He sighs, looking away. “If you’ll come clean with me, maybe we can -”

“Come clean? Hideyoshi, I told you I’m not from here. In my ah, my village, people get tattoos because they like the way they look.” You wiggle your arm in his grasp. “This one means the cycle of life. Birth and death. Look at it!”

Hideyoshi slowly turns back to examine the mark on your arm. “It is . . . very finely done for a - a punishment.” He purses his lips. “And I do not know of a prefecture that uses a snake . . .”

You nod emphatically. “Exactly. And you know me. Hideyoshi?” Your tone brings his gaze to your face. 

He studies you for a moment. Then his grip loosens on your arm, the pad of his thumb stroking your inked flesh. “I may have, um, jumped to conclusions. My apologies.” A breath, then, “Sis.”

“Thanks.” You take your arm back, feelings still hurt. 

For a long moment, neither of you says anything. Then he drapes an arm over your shoulder, pulling you to his side. “Let me apologize properly, after work tonight. Stop by after your bath and I’ll rub some oil on your arms and legs.” Hideyoshi’s cheeks hold a faint heat. “A brother should care for his sister when she’s working so hard.”

You know he knows there’s nothing brotherly in the touches you share, but you nod in acquiescence. Then you pull away. “The garden won’t weed itself,” you say.

He grins. “I suppose not.” Hideyoshi’s hand takes yours before you can take a step. “It’s nice. Your tattoo. Once I really looked at it.”

“Thanks,” you smile back, feeling a little better. “I’m looking forward to my massage tonight.” You give him a cheeky wink. 

Masamune

You splash to the river’s surface, sputtering from the water in your mouth and nose. Masamune laughs beside you, his strong arm holding you up above the roiling surface of the water as the current pushes you both downstream.

“Maybe next time we should look for a bridge,” you shout to be heard over the river.

“Nah. Where’s the fun in that?” Masamune’s blue eye gleams with unfettered joy as he pulls you toward the opposite shore. 

Once you hit the bank and crawl out, you flop back onto the grassy hillside. “Fun? Not drowning is fun. And now I’m soaked.” You glance over to see Masamune already stripping down, laying his clothes out to dry. 

He grins when he sees your expression. “What’s the matter, kitten? Tiger got your tongue?”

“Pffft.” You sit up, ignoring the way your face heats. You shrug out of your kimono, very aware of how thin your linen underclothes are. Especially now that they are wet and clinging to your skin. 

Masamune’s appreciative look does not help. He grins unapologetically. “I should come out this way more often. Great view.”

You throw a clump of grass at him and jump up to run. He chases you, laughing, and catches you pretty quickly. 

His laughter stops with a sharp inhale. “Are you hurt?”

You realize that he’s noticed the ink on your side, a tiger in the midst of peonies. The red, pink, and orange probably look like a wound beneath the opaque cloth. “No, nothing like that.” You carefully tug the linen up to show him your tattoo. 

“Wow.” His eye is wide as he takes in the art piece. “Gorgeous.” His calloused finger brushes the skin on your side, sending a shiver across your belly and up your ribcage. “It’s like a painting.”

“Thanks.” You feel more than a little self conscious, but also gratified by his reaction. “It’s supposed to be, like, fragility and strength? Together?” You find yourself a little tongue tied, too focused on his warm hand touching you. 

Masamune finally looks up, catching your gaze. “It fits you, kitten. Strong and fragile.” His expression is more serious than you’re used to. A deeper emotion moves in the depths of his blue eye. 

The urge to kiss him is strong, but you resist. You tug the cloth back down and step away, heart beating frantically. Masamune likes to flirt, you think, that’s all. You wrack your brain for a witty comment and come up empty. 

He smiles, drops his hands. “Our clothes should dry out soon, and then we can continue on.”

“The temple better be awesome. You’ve talked it up too much to take anything less than.” Your destination is safer ground, you think, jumping right into the new topic.

Masamune laughs. “There’s not another like it anywhere.” Something about the way he says it makes you wonder if he means the temple you’re traveling to or something else. 

“Worth the trip then?”

He catches a bit of your damp hair and twirls it around a finger. “I’d say this trip is already worth it.”

[yaekiss]

#Mailroom Open!　─ Hello Qi! I hope I am able to get this letter in before the cutoff 😖 May I send a love letter to yan!Jing Yuan, and have him address a Foxian!reader w gn nicknames?

\\\______\\\\________\\\

To my dearest Scoundrel,

You are quite the terrible influence my dear general, are you aware of this? How am I supposed to resolve this trade agreement with our fellow Xianzhou flagships in a timely manner, when you have more or less conditioned me to take naps during most hours of the day?

Truly despicable of you really. And on top of that, your "parting gifts" you left on me are still very tender; very distracting from my work. Efficiency and diligence, I fear will be strangers to me during this trip.

Regardless, I hope you are doing well and are not causing to much trouble for the commission during my absence. (Please try to not stress Fu Xian too much, I don't need further distractions from her blowing up my phone because of your shenanigans.) Maybe if you are on your best behavior, I might even give you a reward. Perhaps even something of your choosing if you are especially well behaved~.

Before I sign off and leave you to return to my work, I have sealed a gift for you. Consider it...my own unique "parting gift" to you until I return to you. Which I know in our vast lifespans will be over before you know it my beloved.

-Sincerely, your sleepy vixen

(Enclosed in a small red and gold box, is a simple blue collar with golden accents and filigree with a note that says "wear it until I come back ;)" )

꩜ Letter Content: Dom! GN! Reader x Yan! Sub! Jing Yuan, no gendered terms for reader, Jing Yuan calls you "my tranquility", unhealthy obsessive relationship from Jing Yuan, lightly implied drugging, mentions of reader topping and edging Jing Yuan, quick mention of biting and blood, lmk if I missed out anything ! ꩜ Delivery Notes: You have quite the roster of guards at the door of your hotel room huh? Looks like nothing's going to slip past them if they were chosen by Jing Yuan himself! ꩜ Wanna write a love letter yourself? Check out it out here!

As you return to your temporary quarters after sitting through a particularly arduous trade meeting, you’re alerted by your guards assigned to you (by none other than Jing Yuan) about a suspicious delivery left for you while you were away.

Inspecting the box, a laugh escapes you when you catch the ink paw prints of a lion stamped haphazardly on both sides of it. After explaining that this was a personal delivery from the Xianzhou Luofu’s Dozing General, it seemed to dissolve any remaining apprehension your guards had and they handed the box over to you. Thanking them for dutifully carrying out their work, you step into your room.

Your room is spacious, ridiculously so. Why would one person need such a massive room for themselves? It’s the kind that only a general could manage to procure. The open sliding window leads to a balcony that showcases the bustling lively environment of the streets below and a cool evening breeze fills the room. Settling down on the edge of the bed, you set the box in your lap.

Upon opening up your delivery, it seems that Jing Yuan had prepared a pair of gifts in return for you. The first of two is an intricate small glass spray bottle set within a satin-lined box. The small tag tied around it says, “Some of the fragrance that I often use. For you to spray on your pillows when you sleep. :3”

Spritzing a fine mist onto your wrist, the scent of your lover wafts from the area; not too strong such that it’s unpleasant for your keen sense of smell, nor too faint that it’s hard for you to pick up. The fragrance is soothing and familiar, a thoughtful gift that will no doubt improve the quality of your sleep, as evident from the yawn it draws out from you.

The second gift you retrieve from the box is a soft sleep mask in your favourite colour. Sliding it over your eyes, you find that the fabric is smooth against your skin and the mask manages to completely block out all light, fully blacking out everything. The elastic strap isn’t overly tight but secure enough that it ensures that the mask doesn’t slip off too easily. Perfect for tossing and turning. 

Finally, laid at the bottom of the box, is the reply from Jing Yuan, concealed in an elegant envelope. The quality is top-notch and flawless, and it’s sealed securely. Running your hand over the envelope, you feel the crest of the Cloud Knights embossed lightly on the surface. You break the seal and remove the letter contained within. 

His handwriting is steady and dignified, each and every brushstroke on the page graceful. At the end of his letter, is his own name seal, stamped in red ink. Jing Yuan’s reply reads:

“For my dreamlike haven,

My apologies, it seems that Mimi got its paws on the box while I was out of my office and left a couple of paw prints on the sides. Sigh, you should’ve seen how much ink I had to clean off the surfaces, truly troublesome. Perhaps it knew that the box was meant for you and wished to leave something for you as well, haha!

I have to admit, Mimi is not the only one missing you, my tranquility. I find myself looking over to my side to ask for your wise input on things, only to realise that you’re away. Fu Xuan laughs at me whenever I do this. :( 

It's just not the same to take afternoon naps without you by my side. Nothing is as comforting as your warmth in my arms, or for me to jokingly complain about the tips of your furry ears tickling my nose when we cuddle together. My slumbers are no longer restful when I can’t spend them with you, my tranquility.

The things I would do to have you next to me again. Are the marks and scratches I left on you still visible, my tranquility? Judging by how the ones you left on me are fading, I assume my parting gifts left on you are doing the same. Would you let me mark you up again, and won’t you extend the same generosity to me too? I yearn for your searing touch, my tranquility, for your fangs to pierce my skin and bring forth the vivid red beneath. Whenever I close my eyes, the only thing I can see is you, as if you linger in my every thought and dream.

Speaking of dreams, it seems that lately, my dreams have taken quite a raunchy turn. The starring role for all of them is obviously, you, my tranquility. You’d have me pliant and satisfying your every whim. In one, you had me bent over my office desk, fucking me hard as I rocked back against you. In another, you were edging me mercilessly, over and over again, until I could do nothing but beg helplessly for my release. That look you had in your eyes still sends a shiver down my spine. I’m hoping that soon, you can help turn these dreams of mine into reality.

Additionally, thank you for the collar, my tranquility. I’ve taken the liberty of adding a charming little bell at the front of it, I think you’d find it quite endearing. (And perhaps deserving of a reward? :3)

Do take care of yourself, or else I might just have to come and do it myself, haha. I’ll try to be on my best behaviour but no promises! I miss you dearly, my tranquility, come back to me soon.

Your rascal of a general,

- Jing Yuan -

P.S. Remember to use the fragrance on your pillows and the sleep mask!”

Rising from your seat on the bed, you pack everything back into the box before stepping into the shower to… cool off after reading Jing Yuan’s letter. In the bathroom, you find yourself relaxing as the water patters on your skin. Your ears flicker slightly whenever they pick up noise from beyond the locked door. A shout from the busy streets below, a soft sigh and the tinkle of a bell, the water splashing onto the floor around you.

Whilst clothing yourself, you lift your wrist to your nose and sigh when the scent of Jing Yuan has expectedly, (begrudgingly), been washed off. However, when you return to your bed, the scent of him still lingers, one that wasn’t here before. 

Your heightened foxian senses can just about make out where it’s concentrated the most, and it points towards your pillow. It’s saturated with the smell of him, to a disconcerting degree. Lifting it up, you’re greeted with the sight of the usual red ribbon he has tied around his hair.

The world falls silent around you.

He was in your room.

Thanks for reading! Consider supporting me on kofi if you enjoyed this or check out my other works hehe ♡

[xzerosparrowx]

An Attempt to Steal the Crown Jewels

For the August @astrangersummer.

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Prompt: Modern/Royal AU| wc: 717 | Rating: G | tags: Rogue/Thief Eddie, King Steve, an attempt to steal the crown jewels, based on a real historical event.

Steve awoke with a start, sweat soaked sheets tangled between his legs, his heaving chest calming as the nightmare gave way to wakefulness. The room was still dark, the blue hour just before the first cold rays of morning could peek over the horizon.

He shivers as he lays back down, bringing the heavy blankets over his chest. The fireplace, burning low into coals, could barely keep the chill of early winter out of the large chamber.

Snap!

He bolts up, eyes fixed upon the window closest to him, unsure if he is awake or still dreaming, hands twitching towards the rapier at his bedside. Then he hears it, the creak and rustle of something moving up the trellis just outside his window.

“Shit!” Hisses a voice, and Steve leaps out of bed, grabbing the rapier, positioning himself against the wall next to the window.

Steve presses himself further against the wall as a mop of hair finally comes into view. He watches curiously as a man pulls himself up, laying out a leather purse against the windowsill, a gloved hand pulling out a long needle-like tool.

It eludes Steve as to why he only thinks to watch the man, not once does it come upon him to actually step in front of the window to make his presence known to the intruder. He watches the man in fascination take the tool and with smooth, practiced hands silently unlock the latch to the window. With feline grace the man steps through, long lean legs wrapped in dark leather stretching over the windowsill, heeled boots silently landing on the dark wood floors.

It is only then, when the man is standing in his bedchamber, that Steve even considers saying something.

“If you're looking for the bathroom, you've climbed the wrong window.” The man springs back with a yelp, crashing into a desk, bottles of ink and glass clattering to the floor.

“My lord?” a voice tentatively calls out from behind the large french door. The man in black, sprawled on the floor amongst the mess, stares up Steve with large brown eyes, pleading.

“Everything is fine! I failed to see where I was going, again,” Steve replies back, stepping towards the man and pointing his rapier at the base of the stranger's neck.

The pair watch each other silently as they listen for the footsteps outside to disappear.

“What do you have to say for yourself, assassin?”

“I am no assassin, my lord!” the man avows in a rush, holding his hands up in deference. “I confess I did not have good intentions for my visit, but it was never violent in nature.”

“Visiting someone usually means you go through the front door, invited,” Steve scoffs, lowering his sword a fraction.

“Wrong choice of words, my lord,” the man says, scrambling to kneel, “I came to steal the crown jewels-” Steve raises the rapier again, “-but I assure you I have a legitimate reason and a very good story to tell.”

Steve considers it for a moment, staring at the leather-clad man before him. “Very well, I'm in need of a good story, and I would like to know how you managed to climb over the wall and pass the palace guards… Your name?” Steve smiles, taking a seat on a chair by the fireplace and pointing to the second seat opposite.

“Eddie Munson, my lord,” the man leaps up, taking a seat, “well, it all started with the dread pirate Vecna…”

The man is a bundle of excitement and nerves, launching into a story about beautifully tragic maidens, a host of silly yet brilliant children and a pirate with dark, supernatural powers. It is all fantastical, far too fascinating to hold any truth, but Steve finds himself enthralled nonetheless, captivated by the way Eddie weaves the tapestry of his story.

“Brilliant tale,” Steve chuckles when Eddie finishes, “though it does not explain why you've come to steal the crown jewels.”

“Ah, yes, well turns out you don't make any money on adventures like that.”

Steve barks with laughter, loud and happy, his sides and cheeks hurting by the time he manages to calm down.

“I'll do you one better than the crown jewels,” Steve stands, holding out his hand to Eddie, “how about a land and title?”

A/N: This story is inspired by Thomas Blood, a guy who tried to steal the crown jewels, stood before King Charles, and was given land instead. Horrible Histories did a really great skit based on it, I recommend watching it on YouTube.

[lowkeyrobin]

headcannons where quackity's s/o has tattoos? could also be nsfw, if you're comfortable with it :))

I don't write NSFW but I can definitely do the tattoo part! thanks for requesting!! I don't think I've actually posted a quackity focused thing yet which is surprising to me bc I have like 3 drafts for him LMAO

QUACKITY ; tattooed lover

summary ; you have tattoos and your boyfriend is head over heels

warnings ; language; talk of needles / pain of tattoos, use of quackitys real name (lmk if I should change it!)

word count ; 670

genre ; fluff

masterlist

In general, he'll act normal about all your tattoos and whatnot, but inside every time he sees your arms (especially if you have sleeves or some sick ones around your wrists that trail up your arm even a bit) he'll just get a little red in the cheeks. He absolutely loves all your ink. He thinks it's so sick, but he's not committed enough to get any, and he doesn't think he has the pain tolerance.

he went with you to get a new tattoo on your shoulder/upper arm area

he learned you'd be there for like 5 hours and he groaned like a shitty iPad kid and took his phone out while he threatened to call Philza

once he saw the tattoo gun... oh lord it was over

literally whisper shouted at you while the artist got up to get gloves

"that's what you're getting jabbed with??? why are we here again???"

genuinely can't look

once he hears the buzzing he turns his music on and he's staring down while he sits on the couch across from you

"Alex, look!" you smile, "I'm fine"

"how do I know you're not a clone?"

"Holy shit. dude it's the quackityhq duck, that's why I brought you along"

"WAIT WHAT?"

it's not a big tattoo whatsoever, but it's a reminder that he's always with you, how you've grown together and how that's always going to be an era of your content you'd never forget about

literally gets emotional about it

"You didn't have-"

"I wanted to, for the millionth time"

he genuinely didn't know tattoos were so expensive, once you leave he questions why it was 450 dollars and you explain to him how tattoo artist income works

He's not the one to want to peel off the second skin or pop the ink bubbles or even touch the tattoo until the skin goes back to normal. He's just kinda freaked out for some reason, it's just one of those things and it honestly makes sense.

He takes some dedicated time to sniff all the lotions and numbing creams and comment on each and every one, though. All while you're trying to do some aftercare on it and shit, and you just watch.

"this one smells like buttercream icing"

"yeah?"

"ew, this one smells like badboyhalo's ass!"

"why would you even know that? 😁"

If you have any tats without color, Alex will gladly color them in with washable markers like you're a walking coloring book. He'll literally call for you and ask you if he can color on you again, it's cute, really.

"y/n/n, can I color your tattoos again?"

"aren't you streaming?"

"so?"

"yeah, fine"

he has a whole gallon sized ziploc bag filled with Crayola washable markers

like he goes from playing on the qsmp and hanging out with some people to coloring all over you while said people watch 😭

you wave to his friends like "Hello, I am his walking therapy coloring book"

he's like a little kid. You just look over at him like, "Holy shit I could love you forever wtf"

Sometimes, he'll just draw you new tattoos (with washable markers dw) cause he gets bored and wants to doodle on you. Most of the time it ends up being stick figures and dicks but it's okay, it's his way of showing affection.

He'll genuinely think of song that remind him of each of your tattoos. Somehow, some way, he does. He has a whole playlist titled 'Y/n's tattoos', and he rarely listens to it, but he thinks it's fun to think of a new song when you get another tattoo.

Although he is a little concerned because what's gonna happen when you're old and wrinkly? How do the tattoos last? Do they become old and wrinkly like the tattooed grandmas meme? Because if so, he'll rip on you til the end of time.

"well I have a long time before I look like a tattooed elderly person, but okay"

"So you will? Oh my fucking God! BAHAHAHA"

[ch0k3herwithaseaview]

@jegulus-microfic | march 14 choice | words: 479

hi so i wrote this hangover and half asleep on a train after a gig so it’s probably not very good but hey it’s here! feel free to point out any mistakes and enjoy <3

Regulus walked down the stairs, pretending not to hear James calling his name. They just had an argument. Well, not really—Regulus was trying to convince the older boy that he wasn't worth his time, while James was trying to deny it. At one point, Regulus simply rolled up his sleeve, showing the Dark Mark on his forearm, and asked, "Do you still think I'm worth it? With this shit and everything it means?” He felt that tears were slowly flowing down his cheeks, but he didn't look away. James just stood there, stunned, staring at the black ink on Regulus' skin. It felt like he had been waiting for hours for the Gryffindor to look him in the eye, and when he finally did, all he saw were tears of what he assumed were pain.

And that’s how Regulus found himself, almost running down the stairs from Astronomy Tower, crying silently. As he reached the corridor leading to the stairwells, James finally caught up to him, grabbing his hand and pulling him into a hidden alcove.

“Why are you running?” James asked breathlessly.

“If I stay, you’ll hate me,” he answered in a whisper. The other boy looked at him with still-glistening eyes and slumped shoulders.

“Oh, love,” James sighed, pulling Regulus to his chest and holding tight. “I could never hate you,” he added to his hair.

At that, Regulus fell apart, gripping James' shirt as if to tear it off, sobbing and shaking, grieving the life they could’ve had.

They stood there for a few minutes, Regulus crying hysterically and James gently rubbing his back, both holding on to each other for dear life.

"I know you, Reg," the taller boy began after a while, his voice trembling a little. “I know you are a good person; you care about others, and although you could hurt anyone if you wanted to, you wouldn't do it to an innocent person. I know where you grew up, I know what they are like, and I'm sure it wasn't your choice. So no. I don't and never will hate you.” When he finished, Regulus felt his hair become wet with tears falling from his lover's eyes. He took a step back to look at James. Even now, with all the crying and snotty noses, Regulus could see the other boy was being honest. James still loved and adored him.

“Do you?“ he hiccuped. “Do you mind if I stay the night at yours?” In response, James just smiled at him and slowly led them to the Gryffindor Tower.

They knew they would have to explain everything to Sirius and find a way to keep Regulus safe. But now, in the middle of the night, they just lay in bed, cuddled together, pretending there was no war going on and no trouble coming their way—tonight they were just teenagers in love.

[wizardinggirl]

The Snake & The Raven

Summary: You and Severus finally speak about what happened last night. Just when you think you’ve got things between you cleared up, you receive some haunting news from a friend.

Warning: mentions of death

Go to the beginning here -> Prologue (1/2)

Last: Part 2

Part 3: Death Eater

Word Count: 1.6k

Later, you finally returned to your room. Somehow, you had successfully avoided Severus at both lunch and dinner, sitting at the far end of the professors' table and slipping away through a hidden corridor that Black had shown you during your time at Hogwarts, just before Severus had the chance to corner you. That’s when you heard a knock at the door.

"Come in." Without looking up, you flicked your wand to close the curtain that hid your bedroom, then set it back on your desk. "What can I help you with?" you asked, continuing to mark your parchment, focused on preparing lesson plans. You planned to assign spell combinations for your students to practice, then have them come up with their own as homework.

"I was hoping you could explain why you’ve been dodging me all day."

You froze. You should have checked who it was before letting them in. Slowly, you lifted your gaze to meet Severus’ steely eyes, his arms crossed firmly over his chest.

"I haven’t been dodging you," you replied, looking back at your parchment. You dipped your quill in ink and resumed writing. His eyes narrowed, but he said nothing. Instead, he pulled out the chair in front of your desk with a loud scrape and sat down, crossing his legs, leaning back with his hands clasped. When you glanced up, his gaze hadn’t wavered. Quickly, you looked back down. He was doing what you had done to him the previous day—waiting you out.

Half an hour passed. Severus remained as still as a stone gargoyle, watching your every move. It had been at least twenty minutes since you’d finished your work, yet you kept writing along the edges of the page, hoping he’d give up before you ran out of space.

“You’re going to need more parchment,” his voice broke the silence, making you jump. When you looked up, he wore a smirk. You sighed and set your quill back in the inkwell.

“Are we ready to talk like adults now?” he asked. You let out a long exhale, burying your face in your hands before folding your arms and staring down at the desk.

“I clearly drank too much last night, Severus. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I didn’t mean to get…handsy,” you admitted, pinching the bridge of your nose, “or to practically confess my feelings and complain about you not paying me enough attention.” You opened your eyes and stared at the table. “I sincerely hope this doesn’t make things awkward or ruin our friendship.”

There was a pause, and you were too afraid to look up.

“I missed you, too,” he finally said, his deep voice calm and quiet. At that, you looked up. He had leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, hands still clasped together. His expression was conflicted as your eyes met his, and he quickly looked down at his hands, twiddling his thumbs. “It wasn’t because of you that my letters became less frequent,” he began, letting out a long exhale. “I’m not sure how to—” he was interrupted by a soft knock at the door.

“Excuse me, Professor (L/N), I was wondering—oh.” The young Hufflepuff student froze as she noticed Snape. “H-hello, Professor Snape. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

Severus stood abruptly, his cape billowing as he moved toward the door.

“We’ll continue this later,” he said curtly before vanishing from the room.

The rest of the week passed quickly. Between classes, you barely saw Severus, though you suspected he was avoiding you—or at least not seeking you out. You expected him to follow up as promised, but he hadn’t. You had no idea how much it was weighing on him.

"Severus, you’ll have to tell her. Sooner rather than later." Severus sat with his head bowed in one of the chairs in Dumbledore’s office. "I shouldn’t be telling you this, but the Ministry is holding a hearing tomorrow with a former Death Eater. I’ve managed to keep your involvement quiet, but I can’t control what might be revealed. She’s an Auror—it would be best if she heard it from you first."

Severus sighed heavily and looked up at his mentor. “She’ll hate me.”

Dumbledore gave him a sympathetic look and squeezed his shoulder. "She won’t. She may be angry, but she won’t hate you." He gave Severus a reassuring pat before sending him on his way. It wasn’t until the next day that Severus gathered the courage to seek you out.

That afternoon, you were at your desk, going through your students’ assignments when you heard the soft flap of wings and the coo of an owl. You turned to find Freydis, your barn owl, perched on the window ledge. She had been recovering at the Ministry from an illness, but she looked much better now.

"Hello, you," you smiled, walking over to meet her. She nuzzled your hand as you took the letter from her beak. "Let’s see…" The envelope bore only the letter "C." Cornelius. He often signed with just an initial to keep things discreet. You opened the letter with a flick of your wand.

(First letter of y/n),

Hearing this morning. Another defected Death Eater. Gave names. Minister’s son, one of them.

“That’ll hurt his pride,” you muttered.

Other names too… Severus Snape, another. Albus Dumbledore knew. Claims double agent. Not likely. More likely another defector.

Be safe, C

Your hands trembled as tears blurred the ink. Cornelius had a strong instinct—if he said Snape had been a willing Death Eater, it was likely true. You set the letter down slowly, your mind racing. Could this be what Severus had tried to tell you?

A knock at the door pulled you from your thoughts. “Come in,” you said, barely loud enough to be heard. You didn’t look up, still processing the letter’s implications.

“Y/N, are you alright?”

You looked up sharply, eyes wide, locking onto Severus’. He took a step back, startled by your intense stare.

“Stop,” you growled through clenched teeth, wiping away the last of your tears. You handed him the letter without a word. His expression darkened as he read. His hands began to shake.

“It’s not what it seems,” he said, his voice unsteady.

“Oh?” you replied bitterly. “Because it seems clear to me.” You stood, leaning over your desk, your owl fluttering to the back of your chair. “You’re a Death Eater.”

“I was.” Severus flinched, exhaling slowly.

“Is that why your letters stopped?” you demanded. “Too busy doing the Dark Lord’s work?”

His head shot up. “It wasn’t like that,” he snapped defensively.

“Then what was it? You joined a monster who killed innocent people—Lily included—because of their blood. He’s evil, Severus.”

“I know!” Severus slammed his hands on the desk, mere inches from yours. “I know,” he repeated, softer this time. His expression was anguished. “I don’t know why I joined. I was lost, angry. Becoming a Death Eater gave me a sense of purpose, but it never felt right.” He looked down at the floor, fists clenched on the desk. “The more we wrote, the more guilt I felt. You were always too good for me…protecting others, protecting me.”

Hearing the heartbreak in his voice softened your anger. You sighed, placing a hand over one of his. He flinched as a tear fell onto your hand.

“Severus…”

“I made a mistake, Y/N. One I’ll regret for the rest of my life. The Potters…”

You squeezed his hand. “You don’t need to say it.”

But there was something you had to ask. “Severus, did you…kill anyone?”

He looked up, his eyes filled with despair. “Never,” he whispered. “Voldemort wanted me here at Hogwarts to report on Dumbledore. That’s all. Please, Y/N, it’s the truth.”

You released his hand and stepped back. He looked utterly broken, lowering his head in shame. But you didn’t leave. You walked around the desk, placing a hand on his shoulder. He looked up, surprised. When your eyes met, you saw the depth of his sadness.

You cupped his cheek, wiping away a tear, then pulled his forehead to yours.

“It’s going to be alright, Severus,” you whispered.

He let out a strangled sob and wrapped his arms around you, holding you close. “I’m sorry,” he cried into your hair.

“I know,” you whispered, resting your head on his chest. You were still conflicted, but seeing the pain in his eyes made it harder to stay angry. You could figure out the rest later.

“I was coming to tell you,” he murmured, his voice still trembling. “I should have come sooner. I was afraid you would hate me. I couldn’t bear to lose you, too.”

His words soothed some of the ache in your heart. “You haven’t lost me, Severus." You pulled to away enough to look up at his tear-stained face and put your hand on his cheek. “I’m only confused, and hurt as to why you think you would need to join such a group, and that you didn’t tell me you felt that way. We were so close when we were young, I could have helped you.” He closed his eyes and leaned into your touch.

“You’re right. But, Black, Potter, Lupin, and Pettigrew, their torment blinded me. The rage, the humiliation…maybe I just wanted to show them I wasn’t as weak as they thought.” He opened his eyes to look into yours, bringing his hand to your cheek as yours went to rest on his chest. “I wish I had realized all I needed was you.” That made your heart flutter.

“Sev—”

“You don’t have to say anything.” He tucks a piece of hair behind your ear. “I’ll better myself, to be worthy of you. I only hope that, in time, you can forgive me.” And in time, you did.

Thank you for reading! If you’d like to be added to the tag list please let me know! All notes and reblogs are appreciated!

Next; Part 4: Tea Time

Tags: @johnmurphys-sass

[muddyorbsblr]

the final Lady Sharpe part 4: something to look forward to

Series Masterlist See my full list of works here!

Part of the 500 Follower Celebration Requested by: @ellooo0ooo

Summary: You and Edith make significant progress on your mission to put Lucille behind bars; Thomas makes a confession before you go to sleep

Pairing: Thomas Sharpe x Reader

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: ghosts; a lil bit of steam [let me know if I missed anything!]

Things to be aware of: Reader & Thomas are married; more pining; simp Thomas

The ink had dried enough on the final document you were working on duplicating for tonight that you could group them together and place the original papers back in Lucille's hiding place. Tomorrow morning if ever she were to check on them, she would be none the wiser of what had been transpiring over the last two weeks. You repeatedly clenched and unclenched your fingers, trying to get some feeling back into them after writing with barely a pause for break over the last few hours.

"Tomorrow we'll be done with all the documents," you whispered into the silence, feeling Edith's presence nearby as you made your way to Thomas' workshop. "I'll need you to show me where the phonograph cylinders are hidden, and if you know which one has Lucille's demented confession…"

"I'll show you the way," she confirmed. "And I'll make sure that none of the more…how do I put this…bloodthirsty spirits don't touch you. They tend to be a bit overly protective of their turf."

"The what?" You froze in place at her mention of bloodthirsty spirits. You had enough of a fright when you'd first "met" her and Enola, you might not survive encountering their less agreeable companions. The feel of someone nudging you from behind had you moving down the corridor again.

"Don't you worry about them, Y/N. I'll do my part to keep them away, explain to them that you're our friend, and you'll put an end to Lucille's lifelong murder spree. It might take time for them to fully understand, but they will."

Once you crossed the threshold to Thomas' workshop, you heard the exaggerated groan that belonged to your fleeting husband. Checking the candle in your hand, there was only about a thumb's worth left.

"Right on schedule," Edith remarked before you felt a nudging sensation on your shoulder. "You know he must really care for you if he's willing to endure being with her for the sake of your safety. Before she made him go back out into the city to find a new wife--well, a new victim, he looked gaunt. Almost like he found his life grotesque. Then he came back here with you and…there was color in his face again. Like he's allowed himself to live while he wooed and married you. There's a happiness in him when he's with you that I only ever saw glimpses of back when I was--"

Her words fell dead, but you had a feeling you knew what the sentiment was. Back when I was alive. Back when I was his wife.

"Why Miss Edith Cushing, if I didn't know any better, I'd think you were playing matchmaker with your ex-husband and his current charlatan of a wife," you mumbled, trying not to look to deeply into her words, her testimony of Thomas' time before you. You were already having enough trouble keeping your affections for him at bay whenever he engaged in your routine of a kiss to cap off the night, marking yet another rung on the progression ladder. Lucille's incarceration becoming ever closer.

You decided to hide the duplicated papers in between the pages of his sketchbook, thinking the chances were slim that Lucille would look into them since he only kept concept art of the toys he wished to work on within it. Flipping through the pages to evenly distribute the additional papers, you found a set of sketches that had absolutely nothing to do with toy designs.

The last few pages that he'd worked on in the journal were filled with sketches of you. Some depicted you asleep, others as if the image he had in mind was of you next to him at the dining table. And a full page that showed the bedroom you shared with the baronet, you perched on the edge, a light wash of orange painted on the page, like the scene was illuminated by firelight.

That was the day you arrived at Allerdale Hall. The fleeting moments of desirous bliss you had before reality came crashing down on you.

"You say this marriage is all an act for you both now, but it doesn't look that way. Not from where I'm standing…well, floating." Both of you shared a chuckle before she posed a question at you. "Y/N something I noticed at night when he makes his way back to you…there's an excitement in him, as if he can't move fast enough."

"I--I didn't know about that part," you answered her in hushed tones as you made your way to your shared bedroom, maneuvering the barely moonlit halls with what little candlelight remained. "I usually try not to look at him before we sleep. I fail, of course, but I make the effort. Granting his request for a kiss after he washes the night off of him was already a miscalculation on my part--"

"Completely understandable miscalculation," she quipped, managing to quietly open the bedroom door wide open. "Far too handsome for me to even think of knowing any better back then."

"My thoughts exactly," you mumbled, stepping into the bedroom and disposing of the used candlewax before stretching and allowing yourself to relax from the night's clandestine activities. "Goodnight, Edith."

"I'll talk to the spirits inhabiting the corridor where the cylinders are hidden," she offered, a faint whispering joining her once again before you heard her echoing chuckle. "It seems your husband's rushing to make his way to you. You still have quite the night ahead. Goodnight, my friend."

You could feel the fatigue setting in as you let the tub fill for Thomas' bath before putting away your tools and your blades, mentally preparing yourself for another night of insufficient sleep. Just as you had for the better part of the last two weeks.

Right as you made your way back to your side of the bed and shook your hair loose from your bun, Thomas walked through the open door. You gave him a small smile. "I should be done with the documents tomorrow, Edith and I will work on transcribing the recording cylinders that can lead the case more to Lucille than you two days from now at the latest."

"That's wonderful news, darling," he beamed at you, running his gaze over you briefly before walking toward the bathroom. "I shall see you in a few moments," he told you, his voice echoing across the tiles. A few seconds later the sound of the water sloshing and a sinfully satisfied groan filled the room as he sat into the tub. "You truly are a godsend, my wife. Thank you."

You did your best to ignore the fluttering in your stomach hearing him call you that. You wouldn't hear it for much longer with the progress you were making. "You're welcome," you answered back, fighting back your own sounds of relief once your back hit the bed and you allowed yourself to finally relax for the night.

The cumulative efforts of the last dozen or so days seem to have finally taken its toll on you, your eyes fluttering shut as soon as your head hit the pillow. You hadn't been able to hear the sound of Thomas padding his feet on the floor and back to you, or his little gasp as he saw you in your slumbering state.

"No…" he sighed, climbing into bed with you. "Y/N, darling, please tell me you haven't completely fallen asleep yet," he said softly, brushing your hair away from your face.

"Hmm?" You leaned in to his touch, feeling a strange sense of comfort when your cheek rubbed against his slightly calloused hand. "'M awake…" you mumbled, slowly opening your eyes. He gave you a tender smile when your eyes met his, and you couldn't help but return it.

It was only in these moments just before you both went to sleep, your parts in this perilous operation done for the night, that you could allow yourself to almost feel as if you were a normal married couple. Just laying in bed together before going to sleep, sharing a quick goodnight kiss before he pulled you into his arms, cradling you against his chest.

Perhaps even indulge yourself, even for a moment, in the dangerous truth that once this was all over, you would miss these fleeting moments of peace with him. You'd miss how he held you through the night and how you'd wake up wrapped in his arms. How in the last few days he would greet you in the morning with a soft kiss to your nose before you both made your way out of bed and stepped out of your room.

You would miss him when all this was over. When you'd both signed the divorce papers and went on your separate ways, and you were back in your apartment in the city, going to bed alone, you would miss him.

He leaned in and pressed his lips to yours, a small sound coming from the back of his throat as he sighed into the kiss, almost as if he was relieved. "This is the only thing getting me through the nights," he said solemnly, settling more comfortably into the bed as he kept kissing you. "Knowing that this was what awaited me when I get back."

Instead of your usual night routine of a few kisses and he would pull you into his arms, both of you falling asleep to the sound of the other's breath evening out, he moved his body closer, kissing his way to your neck, his hand traveling down the side of your body until it settled at your waist. His lips began to trace along the neckline of your nightgown, the contented hums against your skin combined with the feel of his lips on you had you struggling for breath. "Thomas--"

"It should be you," he whimpered, his exhales warming your skin. "I should be spending my night with you. Laying with you." He kept on kissing along your neckline, his other hand pulling along the string that exposed your décolletage and he immediately pressed his lips to your chest, above your heart. "You're my wife, I should be with you."

He kissed his way back to your lips, your shock from his confession letting his tongue slip past your lips and tangle with your own. It was like flames licked all along your body at the contact, both of you moaning into each other's mouths as your fingers weaved into his onyx curls.

"Thomas, wait--" you tried to say, placing your hands on his chest in a paltry attempt to get him to pause for a moment, failing to fight against your eyes fluttering closed and your entire body melting under him the moment his tongue delicately ran along the roof of your mouth.

"I want to lay with you," he said once he pulled away, looking at you with those wide pleading eyes that likened him to a pup asking for a treat. "May I?"

For the love of all things good in this world say yes, you hissed at yourself. You struggled to breathe properly, fighting against every instinct to give in as he repeatedly whispered "please" into your skin. Trying to not let the curiosity and desire consume you and see how far your husband was willing to go.

This was the fantasy you wanted to lose yourself in, where by some miracle when all this was over and you both made it out alive, that you'd found something with each other that neither of you wanted to lose. That after all this perhaps you could have a life together, preferably far away from Allerdale Hall and the figurative and literal ghosts that roam the corridors.

The fantasy that perhaps when you were both safe from Lucille and she was serving her time behind bars, locked away where she couldn't harm anyone anymore, that Thomas might not want to sign the divorce papers. Because maybe he was falling in love, too.

"We've come so far already, we can't afford to lose focus now," you answered him, your voice coming out so small it was like the words all but refused to get through the lump in your throat. "Once all this is done, and we're free of her, you'll be free to do whatever you please…with whomever you please."

The last part left a bitter taste in your mouth, like it physically pained you to say the words.

"You're right," he sighed, leaning away enough so that he could look at you. The expression on his face was akin to that of a wounded pup, making the guilt and regret from your decision overwhelm your system. "Of course." He moved over to his side of the bed, taking a breath before hesitantly touching his fingers to yours. "May I still hold you?"

You didn't think twice, moving over to him and settling into his arms. "Yes, of course." The words refused to be spoken, but you'd found a strange comfort in his embrace. That despite the very real danger you both found yourselves in, and the looming dire consequences of Lucille and the business end of her cleaver if you made so much as one misstep on this perilous endeavor of yours, you felt almost a safety in his warm embrace.

And while no one would ever be able to get you to admit it, it made getting up out of bed in the mornings near impossible. You didn't want to leave him. You wanted him all to yourself.

All the more reason why you needed to be done with this and go your separate ways. You should never be so selfish as to beg him to stay with you and deny him yet another freedom. So much had already been stolen from him.

He brushed a lock of your hair away from your face before asking softly, "How long do you reckon before Scotland Yard comes here after you send the papers?"

"Not long," you answered him, your words full of confidence in your peers. "I'll include a summary of my findings to help them through the papers I've sent them, process them faster. I'll also try and emphasize the urgency of our situation, that we're currently living in a manor with a woman that has the intention and means, not to mention the stomach, to kill me. That we have very good reason to believe our lives are in imminent danger. Should get them moving pretty quick."

"And what are we to do until they arrive?" You could feel him tensing as he anticipated your response.

Bile flooded your stomach from what you had to tell him. "We keep routine." His beautiful face looked so pained as you said the words. "She has to believe that there's nothing wrong, that everything's going to plan. If she gets even the slightest whiff that we're up to something and she kills me. Maybe even you if she finds out that you helped."

He took a shuddering breath, pulling you closer against him so he could press a kiss to your forehead. "Let's hope they move quickly then," he mumbled against you, pressing more kisses on the same spot as he took calming breaths. "I can barely stomach any more of it." His breath hitched at his words, his tone rife with shame.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, placing your hand on his chest, feeling his pulse sprinting like a madman. "This burden shouldn't be on you. Never should have been. She's stolen so much from you…" Your sentiment caught in the back of your throat as you did your damnedest to fight back tears. "I'll do my best to make sure she doesn't steal any more of your life away."

"What if she figures out what we've been up to? Or if she gets impatient and realizes there's no money coming after all this time?"

It took you a moment before you could answer, the implication hanging over you both now like the Sword of Damocles. "Then Scotland Yard will arrive here to a corpse. Either mine or hers."

Tears welled in his eyes as he pulled you closer, pressing a tender kiss to your lips. "I won't let her hurt you, I swear it." He stole a few more kisses from you before he cradled your head against his chest. "You should sleep, I can feel how tired you are."

"Exhausted," you confessed, settling into his embrace, the comfort from his hold blanketing over you as your cheek rubbed against the soft hairs on his chest. "Goodnight, husband."

You couldn't resist calling him that. In a few short weeks you'd never be able to again.

He pressed his lips to the top of your head, stroking your hair before he whispered, "Goodnight, my darling wife."

As the minutes passed, and the only sounds that filled the bedroom were your breathing and the crackling of the fireplace, Thomas found himself unable to succumb to sleep just yet. He was still riddled with so many questions that he couldn't bring himself to ask you quite yet.

What if by some freak accident of a chance, Lucille comes across one of your colleagues when she runs her errands in the city and they were to mention who you were, and what you did before you married him? What if now that she was armed with this new information, she deemed you too much of a threat and decided to do away with you like she'd done with so many other innocent women?

What if she decided to make it even worse, and ordered him to kill you instead? Spout some nonsensical notion that he needed to get his hands dirty this time around so she could see if he still had the stomach for it?

He knew he wouldn't be able to hurt you, that he would be completely unwilling to. But would he be able to protect you against Lucille?

And the question that had him looking upon the coming weeks with a mix of dread and hope, all depending on how you would react if he were to even muster up the courage to say the words: What if you stayed together after this fleeting partnership of yours? What if you were open to exploring what a life together would truly be like? Move away from Allerdale Hall and find a place in the city?

"What if I begged you not to leave me?" he whispered into the empty silence, stroking the backs of his fingers along your cheek. "What if I've fallen in love with my wife, and I want to turn our marriage into something real?"

A/N: *popping out my head from my writing hidey hole* Well hi there! Been a long while since I updated this story, but I can promise you now…I didn't abandon it 🫡 And we're picking up with our precious meow meow baronet big tiddy goth husband really showing his hand here that he's catching feelings 🥹

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[herofics]

A day worth waiting for

A/N: I really felt like writing some angst with Gojo. Also, I’m feeling kinda shitty, so I needed something to cope with it. I’m not suicidal specifically, but it keeps kinda flashing in my mind as a “you could do that though” if that makes sense. I started writing this like 3 months ago, but I didn’t finish it then, so I’m writing it now

Warnings: Self-harm, blood and suicide attempt-ish

You were just laying on the floor, staring at the ceiling. You had no clue how long you’d been laying there. It might have been minutes, or it might have been hours, you had no idea.

You didn’t feel anything, you were just numb, maybe not even numb, every emotion just felt the same. It was like all the colors were gone.

You stretched your hand towards the ceiling. You were wearing a t-shirt, so you could clearly see the scars that covered your wrist. There were no fresh ones, hadn’t been in a while, but the urge was still there, the urge to rip your skin open and let your life bleed out of you.

And why wouldn’t you? There wasn’t anything here for you. Gojo would be fine without you, he was the strongest, after all. He would probably even be better off.

“It’s decided then” you muttered while getting up from the floor.

You tried writing a note, and even though the idea of ending your life made so much sense in your head, you couldn’t figure out a way to explain it on paper. The only words you managed to put down were “Forgive me, Satoru. I hope you don’t curse me too much”. A few tears fell on the paper, smudging the ink.

You went to draw yourself a warm bath, before rummaging through the drawers under the sink to find a razor blade. You threw off your sweatpants and climbed into the tub in your underwear and a big t-shirt.

You exhaled deeply, before looking up at the ceiling. Were you really going to do this? Were you ready to leave yet?

That’s when you heard the bathroom door open. You quickly submerged the razor blade and hid it under your thigh before Gojo saw it. You managed to cut yourself in the process. How did you not hear him come into the apartment?

“Whatcha doing in the tub with your clothes on?” he smirked from the doorway, not yet putting the situation together.

He was just standing there, looking like his normal dashing self. He took off his blindfold, like he always did when he came home to you.

“I fell in” you lied.

Gojo took a step closer, chuckling, about to say something, when he noticed the blood in the water. The smile died on his lips as he realized what was going on. He knelt down next to the tub and grabbed both your hands, checking your wrists.

He sighed in relief as he realized you hadn’t done anything yet. Then where was the blood coming from?

You saw the panicked look in his eyes as he still held your hands in his while looking for the source of the blood.

“I nicked myself-myself when trying to hide the razor blade” you hiccuped, tears welling up in your eyes.

“Oh doll” Gojo said softly, before pulling you up with him as he stood up.

He took your shirt off you and grabbed a big, fluffy towel, wrapping it around you.

“I need you to talk to me, and I think you need that too” Gojo said as he stood in front of you.

There was something different about the way he looked at you. Anger you would have recognized, but this wasn’t it. Fear? Was it really fear you saw in his eyes?

“Satoru?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you okay? You look kind of scared” you noted.

“First of all, I think I should be asking you that. Secondly, I think my fear is pretty justified when I find the person I love sitting in a bathtub filled with water, ready to open their wrists”

“Well that sounds a bit gruesome” you muttered.

“Am I wrong?” Gojo asked, tilting his head to the side.

There was a moment of silence between you, before you spoke a simple, quiet: “No”

You couldn’t hold back the tears any longer. Once you said it out loud, admitted what you were going to do, it was like a dam broke. You just started sobbing uncontrollably.

“It’s okay doll, it’s okay” Gojo assured as he picked you up and carried you out of the bathroom.

You were still wrapped in the towel and holding onto Gojo’s jacket for dear life. You didn’t even remember what had originally gotten you so upset that you would resort to what you had attempted to do.

Gojo had been through this with you before. The last time this happened, it was with you trying to overdose on your medication. It was one of the few times in his life he had been absolutely terrified. Seeing you laying there unconscious, with an empty pill bottle next to you, had been one of the most horrific moments of his entire life.

Now it was happening all over again, but this time he had been on time. This time he had gotten to you before you’d done anything stupid, this time he’d managed it. After Suguru left, Gojo had sworn he wouldn’t lose anyone else like that. He wouldn’t let anyone else disappear into the shadows again.

Gojo sat down on the bed, still holding you in his arms.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry-so sorry” you kept blubbering while burying your face to his chest.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay” Gojo said, grabbing your hand and attempting to ground you through his touch. “Just breathe”

After your breathing and crying calmed down, you looked up at him with tearful eyes.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what happened” you muttered, trying to get up from his lap.

“Nu-uh, you’re not going anywhere till we talk” he pulled you back.

“What am I even supposed to say?”

“Just something, I don’t want you to be alone with this. You know I won’t leave you alone before I get a satisfactory explanation” he half joked.

Gojo just wanted to hear you say that you’d be okay. He just wanted to hear you say this was just a fluke, and it wouldn’t happen again. At the same time, he knew you couldn’t promise that. That you wouldn’t just magically start getting better, because you or he wanted you to.

“I don’t know what happened. It just seemed like the right choice, but the second I saw you, I was like “What the fuck am I doing?” and it didn’t feel like it made any sense anymore”

You kept staring at your hands while leaning the side of your head against his chest. What you said was true. Seeing him had made you change your mind in the end. You could have tried to reach for the razor again, even though it would have been futile with him in the same room. He would have stopped you, no doubt about that, and besides you didn’t want him to see you do that to yourself. The act itself was way different from just seeing the aftermath.

“Well I’m glad I have that effect on you, but that doesn’t really give me much insight to your mental state right now”

“I guess it doesn’t, but I don’t really know what else to tell you” you sighed.

You just sat there in silence, Gojo embracing you and you leaning against his chest. You didn’t know what to tell him. Even if you managed to formulate something that would make sense to you, it would probably just sound crazy to him. It was so hard to put any of it into words, let alone in a way someone else would understand.

“I don’t know what’s going on in that pretty head of yours, but I just want you to know that no matter what you think, I’m not better off without you, and neither is anyone else you know” Gojo said suddenly.

“Thank you” you said after a while more of silence, looking up at him.

“What for?” he asked as he met your gaze.

“I guess I just appreciate the reminder at times like these”

“I’ll remind you for the rest of our lives, if you’ll let me” he smiled softly.

You placed a hand on the side of Gojo’s face and caressed his cheek with your thumb.

“I’d like that”

Maybe one day you’d love life as much as you loved him, maybe that day was worth waiting for.