#i don’t know why i got so worked up over this so suddenly

[savanir]

A sister's love

The justice league hurriedly responds to a call for backup at a little in the middle of nowhere place by the name of Amity Park. 

The situation had seemed so simple. 

A Star Sapphire had suddenly shown up on Earth which isn’t immediately cause for concern but she was unidentified, so a lantern was definitely going to have to look into it if only just to make sure that nothing bad was going on. There are two planet side green lanterns, Simon and Jessica. So they responded to handle the potential situation. 

Things rapidly spun out of control when they realized it wasn't just a Star Sapphire. 

"I hate to say this but we're gonna need backup" Simon tells Cyborg, "the Star Sapphire has brought something with her. My first guess was a white martian but..." The other one can do some manner of density shifting, and he can go invisible, but they know ways around that. Whatever this one is doing isn’t that though.

"Why isn't this working!?!" Comes Jessica's slightly panicked voice in the distance, "he keeps just going through my creations! dammit, think think Jess" She tried to contain him with a flamethrower construct but he just ignored it, like he’s seemingly ignoring everything else she’s throwing at him.

"Our constructs have zero effect on the other one, the alien, meta? man I don’t know he’s human shaped" 

"What is the situation other than the two hostiles?"

"Uh we got some government agents who are retreating because of the Star Sapphire wrecking their stuff. And the civilian people here seem to be falling under her influence, so she must be human. She's from here, she needs emotional connection to pull that stuff off."

The people are furious, the violet glow around them clearly indicates that the girl is using her ring to amp them up but if Simon didn’t know any better he’d say this was red lantern stuff.

Well there are more ways to whip people up into a frenzy, by hurting their loved ones for example.

There is a brief moment where it can be heard that Simon and Jessica try to get into a more advantageous position. 

Simon grunts, "dammit, those agents seemed to have weapons that actually worked on the other guy but the Star Sapphire used her violet constructs to shield him and destroy their guns and we've been struggling since" this whole situation stinks, he has a weird feeling about all of it.

"Simon this is really really bad, i can't keep restraining all these civilians, we're running out of energy fast!"

Cyborg tries to get a visual on the situation from his position in the Watchtower while he’s notifying any league affiliated heroes who are nearby and available. 

But all of a sudden he realizes there is just nothing, just a big lap of void where the two lanterns are supposed to be, there is no cctv footage, no cell towers, no internet connection. Just what the hell is going on here.

Then the audio transmission starts to violently crackle.

A new voice laced with static can suddenly be heard, "There you two are"

"Shit"

"Is the justice league coming yet? Are they finally going to do something?" the staticy voice continues.

"Stay back you-"

"Or maybe they still need more of a reason to act" 

The audio cuts out. 

"Jessica! Simon! Come in!" ... "Shit!" 

Cyborg finally gets a clear picture with the satellite cameras and now sees the entirety of Amity Park has been covered with a crystalized violet dome. It’s then that he remembers the story Hal told quite some time ago now about a Star Sapphire who managed to put a whole planet into love stasis.

They are gonna need more help with this one he thinks.

Meanwhile Jazz is still shakily trying to figure out how her new pink powers work, now that all the fighting is over (for now), the GIW forcefully expelled from Amity, and the two Justice league people captured and restrained.

Everything happened so fast, one moment the GIW had knocked out her brother and were forcefully taking him away and while she saw them drive off (she was pretty sure she was screaming) a pink thing just froze her in place, She was pretty sure someone said something about “great love in her heart” and then she was… well she was flying and- and there wasn’t really any time to question things then so she may have kinda gone and ripped into the van that had Danny.

She’s pretty sure she healed him, and then things just completely spiraled out of control from that point on. and now she’s here.

She’s pretty sure this is crazy villain behavior, she’s going to get put on some sort of watchlist and then she’ll never get to be a psychologist but it’s fine.

Her little brother is safe, that’s all that matters. And she will keep it that way.

[on-my-vigilante-sht]

Wrong Person (College AU!)

Hockey player!Cregan Stark x Reader, Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Summary: Aemond's girlfriend has a group project with the man he hates the most, Cregan Stark.

Warning: abuse, domestic violence, alcohol consumption, implied smut, implied fighting, smoking, angst; characters generations/ages don't quite make sense but basically everyone is 20 in this

Word Count: 4.7k

Masterlist

A/N Hey guys, I know its been a while. Some of you may have figured out I stop posting as much when school picks up but here’s something I’ve been slowly piecing together

Taking a deep breath, I knocked on Aemond’s door. Softly, but not so soft he would miss it. Immediately the door swung open and I was met with Aemond’s eternally neutral expression. I felt my own heart sink as he yet again didn’t greet me with a smile. “Hey,” I greeted shyly, feeling my lips quirk up into a smile despite how disappointed I repeatedly found myself.

“Hey,” he greeted in return, stepping aside to let me through. I walked past him, finding his dorm just as I always did. It was surprisingly clean for a guy’s college dorm but Aemond was pretty tidy. Coming up behind me, he gently lifted my bag off my shoulder, placing it on the desk chair before moving me towards his bed.

I suddenly found myself wishing Criston, his roommate, was here. “Oh I actually need my-”

“What?” Aemond snapped, cutting me off.

I stared up at him for a second, trying to register just how angry he was. Finding no real, threatening anger I decided to answer him. “It’s just, I, uh I have to wrap up something quick for that project. Cregan just-”

Aemond scoffed, rolling his eyes. He walked around me, flopping onto his bed with an annoyed expression. “All I fucking hear is about Cregan fucking Stark and your project. You’ve been doing this project for like two months.”

I found my arms wrapping around myself but stopped. Aemond hated when I did that. “Stop acting like I’m gonna hurt you!” he’d say. “I’m sorry but it’s a semester long project,” I explained for the hundredth time.

“I don’t see why you had to partner with him,” Aemond grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest petulantly.

“I know, but there were no other seats.” We repeated the same conversation we’ve had dozens of times throughout this semester.

Walking into Tyrell Hall, I checked my phone. One minute until class started. Cursing, I rushed up to the second floor, quickly locating classroom 221B. Entering the room, I let out a huff seeing that every seat was filled. Scanning the room for a glimpse of an open seat, I observed my classmates. I waved to the few I knew, girls from my freshman year residence hall, some people who ran in Aemond’s circle, a few I didn’t know, and then the hockey team. They all sat in the rear corner of the room, with the only seat left being right next to their captain, Cregan Stark. Glancing at the professor, I found her looking at me expectantly so I reluctantly headed to the back of the room, trying to disappear into my hair as I walked past the hockey team.

“Now that we’re all here,” the professor started, “make sure to get to know your desk partner. You’ll be working with them all semester.” Shit.

I looked to my left, finding Cregan already giving me a shit eating grin. “Oh this is gonna be fun,” he smiled, knowing how much Aemond hated the athletes.

Aemond just got quiet, biting his lip as he looked down at his crossed arms. “C’mon, don’t be mad,” I begged, getting up on the bed. I no longer thought about it. We had been through this routine so many times I just acted. I laid on his bed, practically on top of him as I wrapped my arms around his waist, resting my head on his chest. “I hate it too but it’s only for one semester.”

Aemond huffed, uncrossing his arms so he could lay one across my shoulder, nestling me further into his chest. He didn’t say a word, rather he just looked at me. His expression wasn’t expectant but I knew what he wanted. Pushing my body up, I connected my lips to his. He immediately escalated it, turning so he could place one hand on my jaw, the other on my waist as he moved to be on top of me.

Managing to pull away slightly, I looked up at him, his lips still so close I could feel his labored breath. “Aemond, I want to, I really do,” I tried to keep him from getting mad, “but I have-”

“Is this about your project?” he interrupted me, still so close I could feel the sharpness of his breath as he got angrier.

“No,” I assured quickly. “I have a history assignment. Besides, doesn’t Criston get back from class soon?”

“I don’t care,” he said, brushing his nose against mine. “Here,” he said, leaning over me to his bedside table to grab his phone. He typed out a quick message, only briefly showing it to me before tossing it back onto his bedside table. “You can do your work tomorrow morning before class.” His words phrased as a suggestion but holding the weight of a command. He connected his lips to mine again, wasting no time slipping his hand up my shirt.

~

Sitting in class, I tried my best to ignore Cregan. The first half of class was always dedicated to lecture, with the second half going to working on our project. I was keenly aware of Cregan’s eyes flickering toward me every few moments as well as Aemond’s friends a few rows ahead. I just kept my gaze firmly on my notes and the professor’s slides.

Finally, the professor reached the end of her slides. “Okay, that wraps up today’s lecture. Turn to your partner and continue working on your projects. Remember: you should be submitting an outline to me by Monday.”

As I turned towards Cregan, making sure to keep my hair covering my neck, I caught a glimpse of Aegon’s watchful eye. Remembering Aemond, I turned to Cregan’s wolfish grin, refusing to return it. Undeterred, he leaned closer to me. “Hey, I saw you were working on the doc at five a.m. What were you doing up at that hour?” he asked good-naturedly.

“Oh, I couldn’t get to it last night so I woke up early to work on it,” I shrugged. I tried my best not to dwell on the fact that he had noticed that. And judging by his furrowed brows, I tried to ignore the fact that he was concerned about me. “Why were you up at that hour?” I returned, immediately feeling guilty for engaging him.

Cregan’s smile widened. “I was up for hockey practice and got the notifications. Speaking of which, are you coming to the game tonight?”

I sent him a look. “I think you know the answer to that.”

Cregan’s lips fell into a pout. He actually pouted at me like a dog. “C’mon, I want the girl who’s carrying me through this project there.” I just let out a breathy laugh, trying to dismiss his insistence, but thoughtlessly moved my hair, exposing the hickies Aemond had made a point to leave. Beside me, Cregan’s eyes widened. “Woah,” he exclaimed. I felt embarrassment consume me and I wanted the ground to swallow me whole in that moment as I quickly replaced my hair back where it was. “Wow, someone wants everyone to know you have a boyfriend,” Cregan chuckled.

“Cregan,” I began, ready to tell him off. The mortification must have been written all over my face because his expression morphed into silent sympathy as I looked at him.

He cleared his throat, looking down at his notes for a second before turning his attention to my laptop screen. “So where are we on the outline?” he asked. He looked back up, meeting my gaze and I gave him a soft smile of thanks before returning to the project.

~~

Cregan looked up at the stands full of students. Peering in the student section, he was disappointed but unsurprised to find the stands void of his health sciences partner.

“C’mon man, you had to know she wasn’t coming,” Benjicot Blackwood, Cregan’s best friend, interrupted his thoughts. “You know Aemond would never let her come.”

Cregan shrugged. “He’s not in charge of her. She could come.”

“Cregan,” Benji stopped his best friend, becoming very serious for once. “You know he basically controls her every move right? You had to have noticed. She basically hasn’t talked to anyone except Aemond and his friends since like October last year.”

Cregan stopped to think. Now that he thought about it, he realized that she had used to be one of the most well liked people at the university. But now, she really only had a reputation for being Aemond fucking Targaryen's girlfriend. He couldn’t believe that she of all people even looked at that silver haired prick twice.

Seeing his best friend’s dismay, Benji felt bad knowing that Cregan had had a crush on the girl since he first saw her freshman year. “Hey,” he caught his friend’s attention. “Larys told me Aemond and his little cult are going to Phi Gamma Delta tonight. Even if she isn’t there you could ‘accidentally’ spill some beer on Aemond.”

Cregan sent a mischievous look to his friend, a small smile quirking on his lips.

~

“So where are we going?” I asked Alicent as she curls my hair.

“Phi Gamma Delta,” she explained, putting down the hot wand and spraying hair spray all over me.

“Are the guys coming with us?” I asked, turning to her as she took the curling wand to her own hair.

“Yeah, Harwin is going to let the guys in,” Alicent explained, flawlessly curling her brown locks.

I stood up from her bed, going to my bag to grab my outfit. But as soon as I pulled it out, Alicent turned toward me with wide eyes. “Oh no, I already have something for you to wear so we can match,” she came up with on the spot.

“Thanks but I haven’t gotten to wear this since like first semester sophomore year,” I said, holding up the backless top. I didn’t say the quiet part out loud, I hadn’t worn it since Aemond and I got together.

“Yeah but I’m wearing a long sleeve,” Alicent said, standing up from her desk and holding up her sheer top.

“Another time,” I promised her. Grabbing my clothes, I headed for her bathroom, quickly changing into the top and my black jeans that I had cleaned beer off of so many times.

Entering the room again, Alicent had a slightly sour attitude as she finished off her hair. But I just ignored it, determined to have a good night as I got started on my makeup. Once the both of us were ready, we headed to Aemond’s room where all the guys were waiting for us.

I knocked, being louder this time so as to overcome the music that was already blasting. The door swung open, revealing Criston. “Hey!” he greeted the two of us excitedly. “The girls are here,” he announced to the very crowded dorm room.

Aemond pushed his way to the front of the room, a beer fueled smile on his face. But it dropped as soon as he saw me. My heart immediately sunk seeing his expression but he just grabbed my arm, dragging me into the dorm somewhat harshly. Before I could even speak, he was already barking orders at me. “Go grab a drink, I’ll talk to you in a second,” he spat. Disheartened and slightly scared, I went over to Criston’s desk which was lined with booze.

Aemond turned his attention to Alicent, seething. “I thought she was wearing that one long sleeve top,” he growled.

“I’m sorry, I tried to make her take it but she wouldn’t,” she defended. “I could’ve told her it was you insisting she wear it,” she threw back with a quirked brow.

Aemond just sent her a glare before going back to his girlfriend. “Hey,” he greeted, an arm slipping around my waist to bring me to face him. “Look, I’m sorry I got mad earlier its just… this top,” he said, tugging at the fabric, “is… well its basically a rectangle of fabric held together by one string,” he explained. His fingers now finding the back of my top, tugging at the string to where it almost came untied to make his point.

I averted my eyes, gaze flickered down, shame coursing through me. “I’m sorry, it’s just, I loved this top.”

“I know, baby. And I’m not trying to control what you wear just, keep close to me tonight. Not all the guys there will respect you,” he said, giving another tug to the string of my top before stepping away towards his friends.

Feeling slightly disoriented and embarrassed, I headed to the bathroom in order to fix the top before returning to the pregame, trying to forget the earlier conversation with cheap booze.

After a few more moments, Aemond had declared that it was time for us to all go to the frat. As we all headed over, Aemond had his arm slung across my shoulder. By the time we reached the house, I was shivering thanks to all my exposed skin, and slightly wishing I had listened to Alicent.

As soon as we entered, Alicent grabbed my hand, dragging me to the dance floor as the DJ started to play Super Bass. It wasn’t long after we had been jumping around on the dance floor that Aemond found me again, moving to stand behind me with one hand around my waist and the other holding a beer.

After a couple songs, I felt Aemond’s fingers tap on my hip before his lips came up behind my ear. “I’m gonna go out back for a smoke. Be safe,” he advised before taking his leave, a few of the guys following him upstairs out of the basement.

I just turned back to Alicent who seemed to relieved to not have anyone hovering around her so she could let loose. I laughed as her dancing became more wild and sloppy. That was until her eyes went wide and she was looking at the staircase leading out of the basement. Confused, I turned to find the entire hockey team filling the stairway, with Cregan Stark standing at the top of the staircase.

He looked around for a moment as he descended the stairs, before his eyes settled on me and a smile broke across his face. It was as if Aemond’s training kicked in or something because I had the sudden urge to go find him but something in me kept me firmly rooted to the ground. Maybe it was the beer and god knows what other sticky substances keeping my shoes on the floor of this frat basement.

Either way, it was too late to leave because Cregan was pushing his way through the crowd towards me until he towered over me. The dancing bodies of other students being no match for his hulking frame. He stooped down, bringing his lips closer to my ear. “Hi,” he greeted, pulling away with a bright smile.

“Hi,” I returned, not even bothering to try to reach up to reach his ear.

“Where’s your owner?” he asked sarcastically.

I sent him a look when he pulled away. He just laughed, bringing his lips to my ear again. “I kid. But seriously, I’m surprised he’s not attached to your hip making sure someone like me isn’t talking to you,” he teased.

This time he didn’t immediately stand up, allowing me to talk in his ear to answer. “He’s in the backyard. He’ll be out soon,” I answered.

“Well then I guess I have to make due with the time I have,” Cregan smiled. Before I could protest, his hand found mine, tugging me towards him. His grip was tight enough to move me, but not so tight that I couldn’t slip out if I wanted to.

I knew I shouldn’t, but I couldn’t help but move with Cregan, finding laughs building in my chest as I watched him dance. We were having a good time until all of a sudden Cregan got a serious expression on his face, standing straight up and looking toward the staircase. I didn’t even have time to follow his gaze before he grabbed my arm tugging me behind him.

“Hey! Wha-” I began to protest as I was whirled around but the words died in my throat as I realized why Cregan had gotten serious.

Currently pushing through the crowd was a murderous looking Aemond. Rather than rush to calm him like I probably should, I found myself cowering behind the hockey captain, clinging to his arm. “Stark!” Aemond barked across the crowded room, so loud everyone managed to hear it. “What the hell are you doing with my girlfriend?” he spat, getting in Cregan’s face.

“Nothing, we were just dancing,” he answered coolly. “Then you came down here looking like you wanted to murder someone.”

Aemond rolled his eyes. “Yeah, well, maybe don’t dance with another guy’s girlfriend next time.” He turned his gaze to me, holding out his hand expectantly. “Come on, we’re leaving.”

The fear coursing through me was screaming at me to take his hand but something wouldn’t let my body move. Cregan sent a glance back towards me before turning to Aemond. “She doesn’t wanna go with you.”

“Stay out of this,” Aemond seethed. “This is none of your business.” He then looked at me expectantly again. “We’re going,” he spat.

By now the music had died down and everyone was looking at us. Glancing around, I saw both the hockey team and Aemond’s friends coming towards us, prepared to back up their guys. “Nah, I’m not letting her go with you,” Cregan declared. “Not until you calm down.”

That just seemed to ignite a fury in Aemond. “She’s my girlfriend, Stark,” he spat through gritted teeth. “She’s perfectly fine with me and I sure as hell am not leaving my girlfriend with any of you,” he nodded to the hockey team.

“Then why does she look terrified of you right now?” Benji interjected.

“Shut up, Blackwood,” Criston spat.

All of the guys started arguing, yelling at the others to shut up. Still behind Cregan, I snapped my head behind me as I felt a gentle hand brush against mine. Turning, I found Rhaenyra looking at me with a concerned, gentle look. I just stared at her for a moment before Alicent’s voice brought me back to the conflict.

“Enough!” she got in between Cregan and Aemond. “I’m taking her back to her dorm unless all of you,” she pointed at the guys on both sides, “want to leave.”

There were some grumbles but no one protested. “I’ll go with her too,” Rhaenyra offered.

Not letting the boys fight it out even more, I spoke up. “Yeah, we’re going home,” I agreed. Stepping away from Cregan, I shakily approached Aemond. He was looking at me like I had committed some serious sin against him. “I’m sorry,” I whispered softly. I tried to move past him but he grabbed my waist, pulling me into an aggressive kiss. I could taste the beer and smoke on his lips as he forced his lips into mine. And I had a sneaking suspicion his eyes were locked onto Cregan’s.

When he released me, I let out a shuddered breath as his hand rested on my hip. “We’ll discuss this tomorrow,” his voice was grave. But his hand came off my waist, as if giving me permission to walk away.

Nothing was really said as I left the frat with Alicent and Rhaenyra on my heels. They both tried to ask me multiple times if I was okay, to which I just nodded in agreement. My mind was too consumed playing out what had just happened. But as soon as we were within ten minutes of my dorm, I stopped walking and turned to the two girls behind me. “I’m good here if you guys wanna head home or back to the party. I appreciate you coming with me but I think I just need to be alone right now.”

They both sent each other a glance. “We’re not letting you walk alone at night,” Rhaenyra protested.

“I’ll be fine,” I insisted.

They both looked at each other reluctantly before looking toward me. “Okay but, call someone if you start to feel freaked out,” Alicent said.

“I will,” I agreed, before turning on my heel and walking away.

Immediately, I pulled out my phone, afraid to see what was on there. Opening it, I was first confronted with a text from Cregan.

Hey sorry about tn If he tries anything with you let me know and I’ll handle it

My heart melted reading his messages. I wanted to cry at how sweet he had been lately, mostly because Aemond had been anything but.

Going to our messages, I found nothing. I didn’t know if that was a good or a bad thing. I’m sure my refusal to move would come up some way or another.

I swiped out of my messages with Aemond, going back to Cregan. Reluctantly, I held down on the message until the option to delete it popped up. My finger hesitated over the delete button before I hit it. Just like I had deleted all his flirty texts. Leaving nothing but the texts about our project.

~

The next morning, I was woken up by incessant banging on my door. Glancing quickly at the clock, I saw that it read eight a.m. Rushing to the door, I opened it without checking who it was because deep down, I already knew.

As the door flew open I immediately took a step back, finding Aemond practically glowing with fury. “What the hell was that last night?” he spat, storming into my room.

I backed up as he entered, the door slamming shut behind him. For the first time, I cursed the fact that my roommate went home every weekend. “Aemond, I’m-”

My words were cut off as he lunged forward, his hand coming to close around my throat. “You’re what?” he spat. “Sorry? Sorry for humiliating me? Making me look like an awful person?” But I hardly heard a word, too busy trying to process the fact that he had actually grabbed me by the throat and was choking me. But it seemed my silence angered him more as his fist became tighter and he pressed me up against the wall. My vision was beginning to fade as he crushed my windpipe even tighter. “You cowered away from your boyfriend behind Cregan fucking Stark! Do you know how that makes me look? This,” he said, referring to his hand around my throat, “is because of you. You make me out to be some abuser, fine. It can be that way,” he spat before dragging me to the floor.

I coughed and sputtered as I hit the ground. Hard. “I’m sorry,” I managed to gasp out through tears and desperate gulps of air. “I wasn’t thinking straight.”

Aemond stood over me, bending down to get in my face. “You’re damn right you weren’t thinking straight. I’ll see you Monday and you better have fixed this attitude by then,” he said before marching out of my room.

~

That entire weekend I just flipped between numbly trying to wrap my head around what happened and sobbing violently. Every time I caught a glimpse of my bruised neck in the mirror—Aemond’s fingers clearly marked in my skin—or thought about the feeling of his hand around my throat.

I stood in the bathroom, my skin blotchy from the tears and black and blue covering my neck. I had only just managed to start being able to look at myself without immediately dissolving into sobs when my phone rang. Hesitantly, I picked it up, finding Cregan’s name scrawled across my screen. After another moment of hesitation, I answered the call. “Hello?” I answered, immediately cringing at the hoarseness of my voice.

“Hey,” Cregan’s voice came over the phone, his concern apparent. “Are you okay?” His heart was racing as he heard the scratchiness in her voice.

I hesitated for a moment, trying to clear my throat but it was no use. Between the choking and nearly two days worth of sobbing, my voice was fried. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“No you’re not, I’m coming over,” Cregan informed, already getting up from his bed.

“Cregan,” I began to protest.

“You’re still in Benjen Hall 514, right?” Cregan asked.

I opened my mouth to protest but the words wouldn’t fall. So instead, I gave a reluctant confirmation.

“I’ll be over in five.”

I hung up the phone, going over to my bed and slinking onto it. I didn’t know what to do. I felt like I should try to clean myself up and hide the hand print on my neck. But if I hod it, what life was I resigning myself to?

I didn’t have much time to act because there was a knock at my door. I found myself rushing to open the door, despite my resistance to being seen by anyone. But either way, I opened the door, quickly ushering Cregan inside before letting it shut again, once again hiding Aemond’s act from the world.

After observing my room for a moment, Cregan turned to me. “So what’s wrong?” he asked.

I realized I was looking at the ground, effectively hiding my face and neck. After a second of hesitation, I looked up, letting him see the bruises and tear stains. His eyes widened, his jaw even dropping as he saw my state. He just stared at me for a moment before he spoke hesitantly. “Did- did Aemond do that?” he asked, horror lacing his voice. I only nodded reluctantly.

I watched the shock turn to sympathy, to hurt, to finally anger. His jaw locked and his fists curled as he took a step away from me. “That little-” he couldn’t even finish his insult he was so angry. “Did you get my text? Why didn’t you call?”

“I-” I began but I was cut off my my cringe at the sound of my own voice. “I don’t know. The past few days have just been a blur.”

Cregan stepped towards me. I flinched as he came towards me to which he immediately stopped. “I’m not gonna hurt you,” he swore. He took another hesitant step forward until he was gently grasping my shoulders. “I am however, gonna beat the shit out of that deadbeat boyfriend of yours. Or should I say, ex-boyfriend.”

“Cregan,” I began, my hands finding his chest. “I-” I didn’t even know what I wanted to say. I just broke down into sobs as I fell into his chest. In response, he just hugged me tightly, running his fingers through my hair.

“Hey, it’ll be okay,” he hushed me. “I swear I’ll be right back.”

~~

Cregan cringed as he knocked on room 514. His knuckles were bloody but he didn’t care. Immediately the door swung open, revealing his health sciences partner. She immediately threw herself into his arms, much to the hockey player’s joy. He hugged her tighter as her legs came to wrap around his hips. Entering the threshold of the room, he let the door fall shut behind him as her feet fell back down onto the ground. “No one’s ever gonna hurt you again,” Cregan swore, his forehead resting against hers. “I promise you.”

Masterlist

[badger-tales]

Stolen Glances// F.W x Reader

a/n: Guys my requests are still open, who and what i write is pinned on my account!

request:

I’ve been reading your fics for awhile now and I’ve finally worked up the courage to request a fic. (Anonymously, of course)

Can you please do a fic of reader x Fred Weasley where reader has liked Fred for awhile but he never noticed. But then, after a quidditch match or smth, Reader heads back to the common room real sulky (because she saw Fred and Angelina and came to the wrong conclusion) when Fred comes and walks her to the common room. They don’t have to confess their feeling or anything if you don’t want to, but I just want a nice, wholesome, fluff fic. Thank you!

word count: 6K

The late afternoon sun hung low in the sky, casting a golden glow over the Hogwarts Quidditch pitch. The Gryffindor team was in the middle of an intense practice session, their scarlet robes fluttering behind them like the tails of streaking comets. The air was filled with the sounds of beating wings, shouted instructions, and the occasional thud of Bludgers hitting the bats of Beaters.

You sat perched on one of the higher rows in the Gryffindor stands, surrounded by a mix of excited students. The air was crisp, carrying with it the faint scent of damp grass and the thrill of competition. Your friends were chatting animatedly beside you, their eyes flitting from one player to another, but your gaze was locked on one figure alone.

Fred Weasley.

There he was, flying circles around the rest of the team with that familiar, confident ease that made your heart pound in your chest. His messy red hair caught the sunlight, and every now and then, that infectious grin of his would flash across his face, making him seem even more brilliant. It was like he belonged up there in the sky, as if the broom was just an extension of him, a natural part of who he was.

You sighed, resting your chin on your palm, trying (and failing) to tear your eyes away from him.  

"Why does he have to be so annoyingly perfect?" you thought to yourself, a touch of bitterness seeping into your internal monologue. "I bet he doesn’t even know I exist."

The practice continued, with Fred and George working seamlessly as a Beater duo, sending Bludgers flying toward their teammates who were practicing dodges. Each time Fred whacked a Bludger, his muscles tensed, and you couldn’t help but admire the strength and grace behind each swing.

But it was more than just his skill on the field that had you so utterly captivated. It was the way he seemed to light up a room—or in this case, an entire Quidditch pitch—effortlessly drawing people in with his charm, his laughter, his natural charisma. And yet, it was that very charm that made him feel so... out of reach. 

"He’s probably got girls lining up just to talk to him," you mused bitterly, shaking your head. "Why would he ever notice someone like me?"

As if on cue, Fred suddenly pulled up on his broom, hovering in place for a moment. His gaze drifted toward the stands, squinting slightly as if trying to spot someone in the crowd. Your heart leapt into your throat. Was he looking... at you?

Time seemed to slow down as he raised his hand and waved. For a fleeting, heart-stopping moment, you could have sworn his eyes locked with yours. The blood rushed to your cheeks, and you could feel your heart thudding against your ribcage like it was trying to break free.

"Could he really be waving at me?" you wondered, hope blooming in your chest. You even managed a tentative wave back, your breath caught somewhere between your lungs and your throat.

But then, reality crashed down like a Bludger to the gut.

Fred's grin widened as a group of younger Gryffindor students a few rows below you erupted into cheers, waving back enthusiastically. He shot them a playful salute, his eyes crinkling with laughter.

Your arm froze mid-wave, a hot flush of embarrassment creeping up your neck. You quickly lowered your hand, trying to pretend you were just brushing a stray hair out of your face. 

"Of course, it wasn’t for me," you muttered under your breath, a bitter smile twisting your lips. You could feel your friends exchanging glances beside you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look at them. Instead, you focused intently on the pitch, willing the sting of rejection to fade.

Fred turned back to his teammates, seemingly unaware of the little scene that had played out in the stands. He was back to his easygoing self, joking with George as they lined up for another round of Bludger practice. 

And you? You were left sitting there, trying to force your heart to stop racing, trying to swallow down the disappointment that tasted far too familiar. Because that was the thing about having a crush on someone like Fred Weasley—it was always just out of reach, like trying to catch a Snitch with your bare hands.

But despite the sting, you couldn’t stop your eyes from drifting back to him, couldn’t stop that tiny flicker of hope from lighting up inside you every time he came close. Because maybe, just maybe... one day, he'd notice you.

But for now, you stayed in your seat, surrounded by laughter and cheers, with only the warmth of the afternoon sun to keep you company.

The late afternoon sun was beginning to set behind the castle, bathing the Hogwarts grounds in a soft, golden glow. The sky above was a mix of pinks and oranges, the colors reflecting off the shimmering lake in the distance. Quidditch practice had ended, and now, players were trickling out of the changing rooms, their laughter and banter filling the cooling air as they made their way back toward the castle.

You lingered just outside, leaning against the cool stone wall, pretending to be busy adjusting the strap of your bag. In reality, your fingers were fidgeting aimlessly, your mind barely registering your friend's conversation with one of the reserve players beside you. The words were just noise—a distant hum as you scanned the players leaving the pitch.

Your heart was racing, but you kept your expression carefully neutral. You were waiting. Waiting for a glimpse of him. You told yourself you were just delaying your walk back to the castle, but deep down, you knew the truth: you were hoping to see Fred Weasley one last time before the evening was over. Maybe today, after catching his eye during practice, he’d notice you. Maybe he’d smile, say something, anything...

"Pathetic," you thought, scolding yourself, but you couldn't help it. That flutter of hope was there, persistent and stubborn.

Just as you were about to give up and turn away, the door to the changing rooms swung open. Your breath hitched as Fred stepped out, his red hair damp and tousled, droplets of water still clinging to his neck. His practice robes were slung casually over one shoulder, revealing the snug, sweat-stained shirt beneath that clung to his broad shoulders. 

Your heart did a little flip, and you stood a bit straighter, your pulse quickening. He looked so effortlessly perfect, his grin bright as ever. For a moment, you felt a spark of courage, the fleeting thought that maybe, just maybe, you could muster the nerve to wave or even call out to him.

But before you could act, someone else beat you to it.

Angelina Johnson appeared beside him, striding out of the changing rooms with that confident, easy grace that seemed to come so naturally to her. She was still in her Quidditch gear, her dark braids pulled back, and there was a light sheen of sweat on her forehead. The two of them shared a laugh, the kind of laugh that made it seem like they were the only ones in the world. 

You felt your chest tighten, your heart sinking like a stone as you watched Fred drape an arm over Angelina’s shoulders. It was such a casual gesture, the kind he did with all his

close friends, but the way she leaned into him... the easy familiarity between them... it made your stomach twist painfully.

"You’ve always been my favorite Beater partner, Angie," Fred said, his voice carrying easily over the noise of the other players. His tone was light, teasing, and it sent a ripple of laughter through Angelina.

The world around you seemed to blur, the laughter and chatter of your fellow students fading into a dull hum. All you could hear were Fred’s words, replaying over and over like a cruel echo. The scene in front of you—Fred’s arm around Angelina, the way he looked at her—felt like a punch to the gut.

"Why her?" you thought bitterly, feeling a sharp pang of envy. Angelina was everything you weren’t—confident, beautiful, athletic. She fit effortlessly into Fred’s world, while you... you were just a spectator on the sidelines, always watching but never truly part of it.

A sharp sting pricked the back of your eyes, and you blinked furiously, refusing to let the tears fall.  

"Get a grip," you muttered to yourself under your breath. "It’s not like he ever noticed you, anyway." You tried to swallow the lump in your throat, but it felt like it was stuck there, making it hard to breathe.

You took a deep, shaky breath and tore your gaze away from them, your vision blurring with unshed tears. The last thing you wanted was for anyone to see you like this—especially Fred. 

"How could I have been so stupid?" you berated yourself silently as you turned on your heel. You began walking quickly, your footsteps heavy and hurried as if you could somehow outrun the hurt clawing at your chest.  

"Of course he’d go for someone like her. How could I ever compare?"

As you weaved through the students still lingering near the pitch, the world around you became a blur. All you could see was that image of Fred’s arm around Angelina, his bright, carefree smile, the way she leaned into him without hesitation. It was like a scene burned into your mind, tormenting you with each step.

"You idiot," you thought harshly, clutching the strap of your bag so tightly that your knuckles turned white. "Did you really think you ever had a chance? He’s always been out of your league." 

The laughter from the Quidditch players echoed behind you, and it only made the ache in your chest worse. You ducked your head as you passed a group of Hufflepuffs, hoping they wouldn’t notice the tell-tale shine in your eyes. The castle loomed ahead, its familiar silhouette now feeling more like a cage, every corridor and stairway a reminder of how foolish you’d been to ever think Fred Weasley could see you as more than just another face in the crowd.

By the time you reached the main staircase, you were practically running, desperate to reach the sanctuary of the Gryffindor common room where you could hide away from the world. Your breaths came in shallow gasps, your throat tight with the effort to hold back tears.

"I was just a fool," you thought, a single tear finally slipping down your cheek as you turned the corner. "He never noticed me. He never will."

You wiped it away angrily, quickening your pace. Maybe once you got to your dorm, you could bury yourself under your blankets and pretend this day had never happened. But as Fred’s laughter replayed in your mind, that hollow ache in your chest only deepened, a painful reminder that the crush you’d tried so hard to ignore had just been shattered into a thousand pieces.

The castle was growing colder as the evening chill settled into the stone walls, the flickering torchlight casting long shadows that danced eerily across the corridors. Most students had retreated to the warmth of their common rooms by now, leaving the hallways nearly deserted. Your footsteps echoed in the emptiness, each step seeming to mock you, the sound hollow and taunting in your ears.

You walked quickly, head down, your arms wrapped tightly around yourself as if you could somehow hold yourself together. The memory of Fred with his arm around Angelina replayed in your mind like a cruel, broken record: the way they laughed together, how natural and easy it was between them. Every replay brought a fresh stab of pain, and your heart clenched with a bitterness that spread like ice through your veins.

"Why did I let myself hope?" you thought bitterly, your breaths coming faster, more shallow. "I should’ve known better. It was foolish to think someone like him would notice someone like me." 

The corridor seemed to stretch endlessly before you, each flickering torch like a cruel spotlight illuminating your thoughts. Your eyes stung, but you pressed your lips together to stop them from trembling, refusing to let the tears fall. 

In the silence, your whispered words seemed to echo louder than you intended:  

"Stupid feelings. Stupid Fred."

As soon as the words left your mouth, a pang of guilt washed over you. You didn’t really think Fred was stupid. No, the problem was that he was far too wonderful—kind, funny, effortlessly charming. It was why it hurt so much that he didn’t see you the way you saw him. But right now, the hurt and frustration twisted your feelings into a tangled mess that you couldn’t sort through.

"No," you argued with yourself, wiping furiously at your eyes. "He’s not wonderful if he can’t even see what’s right in front of him."

But just as you were nearing the corner by the library, hurried footsteps echoed behind you, breaking the silence of the empty corridor. Your heart lurched, and for a wild moment, you hoped it was just a Prefect doing their rounds. But then, you heard that unmistakable voice—slightly breathless, tinged with concern.

"Oi! Wait up, will you?"

You froze, your back stiffening. Of course, it had to be him. You clenched your fists, trying to steady your breath, but your heart was already racing, your emotions threatening to spill over. You took a deep breath, wiping at your eyes one last time before reluctantly turning around.

There he was—Fred Weasley, jogging toward you, his hair slightly tousled and cheeks flushed from the cold. His Gryffindor scarf was loose around his neck, his shirt still slightly damp from practice, the scent of soap and fresh air clinging to him.

"Oh, Merlin," you thought, your heart sinking. "Why did it have to be him?"

You averted your gaze, focusing on the floor, the ancient stones suddenly fascinating. Heat rose to your cheeks, and you were sure they were glowing like a pair of red lanterns.  

"What do you want, Fred?" you asked, the words coming out sharper than you intended. You winced internally but kept your eyes down, afraid that if you looked at him, everything you were feeling would be written all over your face.

Fred paused, leaning forward slightly to catch his breath, his hands resting on his knees. When he straightened up, his expression was a mix of concern and confusion.  

"Just... thought you shouldn’t be walking back alone," he said, his tone light but with a hint of something softer beneath it. "It’s late, you know."

You could hear the familiar teasing lilt in his voice, but there was also that glimmer of genuine worry that made your chest ache even more. Why did he have to be so kind, so thoughtful? It only made everything hurt more. 

"I’m fine," you replied curtly, shifting your weight from one foot to the other, trying to keep your voice steady. "I can walk myself."

Fred’s brows furrowed, his smile faltering. He looked genuinely taken aback by your tone, his eyes searching your face.  

"Alright, alright," he said, holding up his hands as if in surrender. "Didn’t mean to step on your toes. Just thought you might want some company."

Company. The word grated against your already frayed nerves. Company now, when it no longer mattered. Where was this when you needed him to notice you, to see how you felt? But instead of voicing your thoughts, you shrugged, still refusing to meet his gaze.

Fred didn't move, though, and you could feel his eyes on you, trying to read what was wrong. The silence between you was thick and heavy, and all you wanted was to escape, to put as much distance as possible between you and those concerned hazel eyes.

"Seriously, are you alright?" he asked, his voice softer now, the teasing tone gone. "You’ve been... well, you don’t seem yourself tonight."

You swallowed hard, blinking rapidly to push down the tears that threatened to spill. "I wonder why," you thought bitterly, but you couldn’t bring yourself to say it. You couldn’t tell him how much it hurt to see him with Angelina, how foolish you felt for ever thinking you could be anything more than a friend to him.

Instead, all you managed was a quiet,  

"I’m just tired, Fred. It’s been a long day."

Fred’s face softened even more, and he took a step closer. He was so close now that you could smell the faint, comforting scent of soap mixed with the crisp chill of the evening air.  

"Alright," he said gently, his voice barely more than a whisper. "But if something’s bothering you... you can tell me, you know."

You nodded stiffly, not trusting yourself to speak. If you opened your mouth now, you were afraid everything would spill out—all your hurt, your frustration, your stupid, unrequited feelings. The ache in your chest was almost unbearable, and you couldn’t bear the thought of him seeing you like this.

Fred hesitated for a moment, like he wanted to say more, but he didn’t push. Instead, he simply fell into step beside you, matching your slow, tense pace. The corridor stretched ahead, dark and silent except for the faint sound of your footsteps and the occasional crackle of torchlight.

As you reached the staircase leading up to the Gryffindor tower, Fred’s fingers brushed lightly against yours, the touch almost hesitant, as if he was testing the waters. Your heart leapt at the contact, a flicker of warmth amidst the cold that had settled inside you. But before you could process it, you pulled your hand away, clenching it into a fist to stop it from trembling.

"Goodnight, Fred," you mumbled, your voice barely above a whisper. Without waiting for a response, you hurried up the stairs, your footsteps echoing behind you. You didn’t dare look back, afraid that if you did, the tears you’d been holding back would finally break free.

Fred stood at the base of the staircase, watching you disappear, a confused and slightly hurt expression on his face. But you didn’t see it—your vision was too blurred by the tears that had finally escaped, leaving a glistening trail down your cheeks.

The Gryffindor common room was unusually quiet, the warmth of the crackling fire filling the near-empty space with a cozy, intimate atmosphere. The flickering glow danced across the walls, casting long, wavering shadows that seemed to move in sync with your erratic thoughts. The few first-years in the corner barely registered to you—they were simply background noise, whispers that faded away as you focused on the tightening knot in your chest.

You and Fred entered together, the cold from the castle corridors clinging to your clothes, quickly replaced by the welcoming heat of the common room. You hesitated near the door, feeling that strange tension between wanting to run to your dormitory and wanting to stay near him, even though every second hurt. 

Fred paused, looking at you with a gentle gaze, before nodding toward the large armchairs by the hearth.  

"Come on, let’s sit for a bit," he suggested, his voice softer than usual. There was an uncharacteristic uncertainty in his tone, as if he sensed just how fragile the moment was. 

You swallowed hard, reluctant but following him nonetheless. Every muscle in your body was tense, as though you were walking into a trap of your own making. You felt like you were about to break, and yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to leave—not with the way Fred was looking at you.

You sank into the plush armchair, the warmth of the fire licking at your face, but it did little to chase away the cold that had settled deep in your bones. Fred sat across from you, leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees. He was watching you, his eyes full of that same concern that had been haunting you all evening, and it was almost unbearable. You turned your gaze to the flames, the dancing colors easier to focus on than the intensity of his eyes.

The silence between you was thick, heavy with words unspoken, questions unasked. You didn’t want to be here, didn’t want this conversation, but you couldn’t bring yourself to move. You bit the inside of your cheek, hard enough to ground yourself, to keep yourself from snapping. "Why can’t he just let this go?" you thought, frustration and hurt battling for control.

Fred cleared his throat, trying to break the tension. He flashed that familiar grin, the one that usually made your heart flutter, made you forget everything else.  

"You’re awfully quiet tonight. Lost your voice after cheering for us so much at practice?" he teased, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

But tonight, that grin was a reminder of everything you could never have, everything that seemed so far out of reach. You forced a laugh, hollow and thin, barely glancing at him.  

"Yeah, something like that," you muttered, your voice sounding distant even to yourself. 

"Come on, just act normal," you scolded yourself internally. "Don’t let him see how much this is affecting you." But the ache in your chest made it impossible to mask your feelings, no matter how hard you tried.

Fred's grin faded, his brow furrowing as he leaned in closer, his eyes searching your face.  

"Alright, enough of that," he said, his voice softening, the teasing gone. "Something’s definitely off, and I’m not leaving until you tell me what it is."

The sincerity in his voice made your chest tighten painfully. You didn’t want this—didn’t want his concern, his kindness. It was easier when he was teasing, when you could brush him off and pretend you were okay. But this, the gentle tone, the genuine worry—it was too much. It made the walls you’d built around your heart feel like they were crumbling, and you weren’t ready for that.

You bit your lip, your fingers digging into the armrest of the chair as if it were the only thing keeping you grounded.  

"It’s nothing, really," you said, forcing your voice to stay steady, though it felt like you were holding back a dam that was ready to burst.

Fred’s eyes narrowed slightly, clearly not believing you. He shifted in his seat, leaning even closer, his voice dropping to a near-whisper.  

"You’ve been acting weird all evening. And it’s not just tonight—it’s been going on for days." His gaze softened, a touch of uncertainty entering his expression. "Did I do something wrong?"

The question almost shattered you. If only he knew. You felt a lump form in your throat, your vision blurring as tears threatened to spill. You shook your head quickly, focusing on your lap, trying to blink the tears away.  

"No, it’s... it’s not you, Fred," you managed, your voice trembling, barely holding together. 

He was silent for a moment, his eyes searching your face. You could feel him studying you, trying to piece together what was wrong. He sighed softly, rubbing the back of his neck, a rare sign of discomfort.  

"Look, I’m not great at this stuff," he admitted, "but you can talk to me, you know. Whatever it is, I’m here."

His words almost undid you. There was a raw earnestness in his voice, a vulnerability that you rarely saw from Fred. For a split second, you were tempted to tell him everything—the hurt, the jealousy, the way your heart ached every time you saw him with Angelina. But the fear of rejection, the fear of making a fool of yourself, kept you silent. The walls around your heart were fragile, but they were still standing.

Fred reached out, his fingers brushing against your knee gently, and it sent a jolt through you.  

"Hey," he said softly, his eyes meeting yours, his gaze pleading. "Please, don’t shut me out."

The unexpected touch, the warmth of his fingers, was too much. A tear slipped down your cheek before you could stop it. You turned your face away quickly, your breath hitching.  

"I-I can’t," you whispered, your voice breaking. "It’s too... I just can’t, alright?"

You heard him inhale sharply, and you knew he’d seen the tear. You hated how vulnerable you felt, hated that you were falling apart in front of him. You wished you could disappear, wished the floor would swallow you up.

Fred’s expression softened even more, and he moved his chair closer, the legs scraping softly against the floor. He was so close now that you could feel his warmth, the scent of him mingling with the smoky heat of the fire.  

"Please," he urged again, his voice barely a whisper, filled with so much gentleness it made your heart ache. "Just talk to me."

You couldn’t hold it in any longer. The emotions you’d been bottling up finally overflowed.  

"I thought—" your voice broke, and you swallowed hard, trying to steady yourself. "I thought you and Angelina... I saw you two after practice, and I just—" You shook your head, tears slipping down your cheeks. "Forget it. It’s stupid."

Fred looked confused, his brow furrowing.  

"Angelina?" he repeated, his voice tinged with surprise. "What about her?"

The words came out in a rush, a mix of frustration and hurt.  

"I saw you two together. You had your arm around her, and you were laughing, and I just... I thought..." You trailed off, your voice barely a whisper, realizing how pathetic you must sound. 

Fred stared at you for a long moment, and then, to your utter confusion, he started to laugh. It wasn’t mocking—there was no malice in it—but it caught you so off guard that you flinched, more tears spilling over.

"Merlin’s beard," he said between chuckles, rubbing his forehead. "Is that what this is about? You thought... oh, no, love, no." He leaned forward, his tone softening as he reached for your hand, his fingers wrapping around yours warmly.  

"Angelina’s just my friend. We’ve been teammates for years, that’s all."

You blinked, the words taking a moment to sink in.  

"But... you were so close, and I thought..."

Fred shook his head, smiling gently.  

"Nah," he interrupted, squeezing your hand. "I promise you, there’s nothing like that between us. She’s practically my sister." He paused, his gaze searching yours, his eyes filled with warmth. "Is that really what’s been bothering you?"

You nodded slowly, feeling a mix of relief and embarrassment washing over you. Fred was still holding your hand, his touch grounding you, and for the first time tonight, you finally looked up into his eyes. They were warm, soft, filled with something you couldn’t quite name, something that made hope flicker inside you.

"Well," he said quietly, his thumb brushing gently over the back of your hand, "if I’d known you were jealous, I would’ve done something about it sooner."

Your breath caught in your throat.  

"Jealous? I—I wasn’t—" you stammered, your cheeks burning.

Fred smiled softly, leaning closer, his eyes never leaving yours.  

"You were," he said gently, his voice teasing but affectionate. "And... I think I like it." His eyes flickered to your lips for a split second before returning to yours. "I think... I like you."

Your heart stuttered, his confession hanging in the air between you. The warmth of the fire, the way he was looking at you—it was overwhelming. But for the first time, it didn’t feel like you were making a fool of yourself. It felt like maybe, just maybe, your hopes weren’t so foolish after all.

"You... you really mean that?" you whispered, barely daring to believe it.

Fred grinned, squeezing your hand again.  

"Yeah, I really do."

And just like that, the ache in your chest began to lift, replaced by something warm and light—a flicker of hope that maybe, this time, things would be different.

The days following your confession with Fred passed in a blur, the bustling atmosphere of Hogwarts enveloping you in its usual hustle and bustle. The castle was decked out in festive decorations for the upcoming winter break—garlands of evergreens draped over staircases, candles twinkling like stars, and the faint scent of cinnamon drifting through the corridors. Yet, none of that seemed as magical as the way Fred Weasley was now treating you.

It started almost immediately after that heartfelt conversation in the common room. You could hardly catch your breath before Fred began seeking you out at every opportunity. It was as though a switch had flipped inside him, and he was determined not to let another moment slip by. The morning after, you were quietly sipping your pumpkin juice in the Great Hall when Fred slid onto the bench beside you, so casually that it nearly made you spill your drink.

“Morning,” he said, grinning widely as he nudged your shoulder playfully. “Saved you a spot.”

You couldn’t stop the smile that spread across your lips, even though your heart raced at his proximity. It was a heady mix of disbelief and delight—was this really happening? You nodded shyly in response, still getting used to this new, attentive version of Fred. The way he looked at you, with that warm sparkle in his eyes, sent a flurry of butterflies through your stomach.

In the days that followed, Fred’s usual playful teasing shifted into something deeper, more affectionate. You couldn’t take two steps in the castle without him appearing at your side, whether it was slipping into the chair next to you in the library or “coincidentally” bumping into you as you walked between classes. It was as if he couldn’t stand to be away from you, and every encounter left you feeling giddy and lightheaded.

One afternoon, as you chatted with your friends near the courtyard, Fred leaned against the wall nearby, waiting for you. When you finally noticed him, he shot you a cheeky grin. “Finally! Thought you’d forgotten all about me,” he teased, his eyes crinkling in that familiar way that made your heart flutter.

You tried to play it cool, rolling your eyes even as warmth spread through you. “You’re impossible, Weasley,” you muttered, unable to stop the smile tugging at your lips.

During Potions class, when you were paired together, Fred took full advantage of your close proximity. As you tried to focus on your bubbling cauldron, he leaned in close, his breath brushing your ear as he whispered jokes that sent shivers down your spine.

“You know,” he said in that low, teasing tone, “if I’d known you liked me that much, I would’ve asked you to be my personal cheerleader ages ago.”

You laughed, cheeks burning as you tried to keep stirring the potion. “Cheerleader? I think you’re confusing me with the actual Quidditch team,” you shot back, though your voice wavered slightly.

“Nah, I’d rather have you cheering just for me,” he said, his eyes locking onto yours. The lightness of his words was underscored by something far more genuine, something that made your heart race.

Yet despite his affectionate words, a tiny voice of doubt lingered in the back of your mind. Every time Fred brushed his fingers against yours or leaned in too close, your heart soared, but the question remained—was this just Fred being Fred? What if it was all just another one of his jokes?

One evening, after a long day of classes, you were walking back from Transfiguration when Fred fell into step beside you, his shoulder bumping yours playfully. “So,” he said, sounding almost nonchalant, “I was thinking... maybe we could sneak out after dinner tonight? I hear the view from the Astronomy Tower is pretty spectacular.”

You paused, turning to look at him, your heart thudding in your chest. “Are you... are you serious?” you asked, your voice barely a whisper, a thread of hope woven into your words.

Fred turned to face you fully, his teasing grin softening into something far more genuine. “Of course I’m serious,” he said, his voice quiet and earnest. “I... I want to spend time with you. Just the two of us.”

Later that night, you found yourself sneaking through the castle under the cover of Harry’s Invisibility Cloak. The thrill of sneaking around with him sent your heart racing as you tried to stifle your giggles whenever Filch’s footsteps echoed down the corridor. Fred’s hand held yours tightly, his warmth steadying you as he led you up the winding staircase to the Astronomy Tower.

When you reached the top, you stepped out into the cold, crisp night air. The sky above was clear, stars scattered like diamonds across a velvet expanse, the moon casting a silvery glow over the castle grounds. For a moment, it felt like you’d stepped into a dream.

Fred pulled the cloak off with a dramatic flourish, spreading it on the cold stone floor so you could sit. “Perfect spot, isn’t it?” he said, grinning as he settled beside you.

You nodded, sitting so close that your knees touched. The night was silent, except for the soft breeze and the occasional distant hoot of an owl. For once, Fred wasn’t joking or teasing. He was just watching you, his eyes reflecting the starlight.

“I’ve been thinking a lot since... well, since you told me how you felt,” Fred began, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it. He reached for your hand, his thumb brushing gently over your knuckles. “I’m sorry I was so thick. I should’ve noticed sooner.”

You shook your head, your voice barely a whisper. “I never thought you’d... I didn’t think you felt the same.”

Fred’s gaze held yours, his eyes soft and sincere. “I do. I think I’ve liked you for a long time, but I was too busy being an idiot to realize it. But now that I know... I don’t want to waste any more time.”

Your breath caught as he leaned in closer, his gaze flicking to your lips. You nodded slightly, and that was all he needed. Fred closed the distance, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that was warm, tender, and filled with all the words that had gone unspoken between you. The world seemed to melt away until it was just the two of you under the stars.

When you finally pulled away, you were both smiling like fools, your foreheads pressed together. “So... does this mean you’ll be cheering for me at every Quidditch match?” Fred teased, his grin returning.

You laughed, rolling your eyes. “Only if you promise to score at least two goals every game.”

“Deal,” he whispered, sealing the promise with another soft kiss.

Sneaking back to the common room, your hands still intertwined, you couldn’t stop smiling. As you stepped through the portrait hole, a few friends shot you knowing glances, but Fred just pulled you closer, unfazed by the attention.

“Guess the whole castle’s going to know by morning,” you muttered, half-embarrassed, half-delighted.

“Good,” Fred said, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Let them know. I’ve finally got the girl I’ve been waiting for.”

The two of you curled up together on one of the sofas by the dying fire, the warmth from the hearth wrapping around you like a comforting embrace. Fred rested his chin on top of your head, his arms around you. “You know,” he murmured sleepily, “I never thought I’d get this lucky.”

You smiled, snuggling closer to him. “Neither did I,” you whispered.

As the castle settled into peaceful quiet and the fire burned low, you drifted off in Fred’s arms, knowing that whatever came next, you’d face it together.

[loonyloopylupin96]

Theme: Hagrid’s Hut | @wolfstarmicrofic | Words: 526

Carrying two dead stoats tied to the end of a long stick, Hagrid made his way back up the grassy mound to his hut. The sun was setting now, casting a red haze across the scene.

He paused to observe a familiar figure by the door, with shoulders slumped and head cast downwards, and cleared his throat.

“Remus?” he said roughly, and the figure jumped.

Remus’ pale face shone in the light of the setting sun as he turned around. He seemed relieved to see Hagrid behind him.

“Have you been waiting long?” he asked, unlatching the door.

Remus shook his head, “I don’t think so. I… well, I hadn’t got around to knocking yet. I didn’t want to bother you.”

Looking back at his feet, Remus missed the pitied expression cast his way.

“Yer’ll be wanting a cup of tea then?” Hagrid asked kindly.

“Yes, please.”

They didn’t say much for the first hour of Remus’ visit, and Hagrid began getting on with doing whatever gamekeepers do when shy students are building up the courage to speak to them.

Remus was finishing his second mug when he finally said what was on his mind.

“Why do you like the beasts and monsters, Rubeus?” he asked quietly.

Hagrid turned to the young boy and his hopeful, sorrowful expression.

“Well,” he started, “Who’s ter say they’re monsters? That’s just Ministry rubbish. I judge em on t’merit of ‘ow they’re behavin’. Nuffin’ more ‘n’ nowt less.”

Remus looked unconvinced.

“Yer’ve bin comin’ ‘ere a lot recently - I’m not complaining ‘cause yer helpful to ‘av ‘round ‘n’ heaven knows ye can use t’ food ye get-“ his words were punctuated by him handing over a plate containing a rather generous serving of fruit cake, “But what’s on yer mind? Bein' a werewolf don’t make ye a monster, Lupin. I told ye, it’s ministry rubbish. Yer no more a monster than Aragog-“

Remus’ head shot up. He wasn’t sure whether to be concerned because Hagrid was being quite so blasé about his condition, or insulted at being compared to a giant arachnid.

“-or Dumbledore hi'self.”

His breathe came back evenly.

“I just thought,” Remus started, “You wouldn’t mind me being here. You don’t care what creature walks through your door…” he trailed off, shrugging.

“I’m sure Black doesn’t either.” He laughed at the pink expression on Remus’ cheeks.

“They don’t know what I am,” Remus added in a low voice, a pained expression returning to cloud his features.

Hagrid shrugged. “Yer jus’ you. What more’s there t’ know?”

~~~~~~~~~~

Meanwhile, in Gryffindor tower:

“Padfoot, you have all the subtlety of the giant squid tap dancing on the Quidditch pitch. He’s going to know we’re up to something!”

“He already knows we’re up to something. He hides at Hagrid’s every time you suddenly change a conversation. What if he thinks we hate him?”

“With that dopey expression you were giving him at breakfast? Pull the other one. Anyway, give it a week and he’ll know we don’t.” James turned to his left, “Peter, you’re starting to grow a tail so it’s obviously working. You’ve got this! Come on, let’s go again.”

[mrsriddles-blog]

Lorenzo Berkshire X Fem!Reader ???

Could you do a oneshot of the reader and Enzo being close friends? Basically they both secretly harbor feelings, but they don’t know how to tell each other. Reader starts to have spicy dreams about Enzo and get shy and flustered to be around him so she avoids him. Her bestie is Pansy. Basically, Pansy asks why reader has been so weird. Maybe a smutty ending between Enzo and Reader?

If Only | L.B

Pairing: Lorenzo Berkshire x Fem Slytherin Reader

WC: 5.9k+

Warnings/Notes: mild language, p in v, smut, fluff, angst…

Summary: Suddenly, you’re developing feelings for your best friend and you’re unsure what to do…

Authors Note: I suck at writing smut lmao I tried my best for the request and hope whoever requested this is happy! I’m soooooo sorry it took me so long to get to the request. While reading the request, it kind of sounded like something I read, but not completely you know, but it sounded familiar, so after going through my reading archives—I found the fic that it reminded me of. If you haven’t read it already, it’s called “Agora Hills” by @theostrophywife , so please go check out her piece! And her other work! It’s amazing! She is a super, super, super talented author!🤍

If someone were to ask you who your best friend was, you'd answer right away and tell them, "Lorenzo Berkshire."

There was no need for anyone to ask the question of course as it was pretty obvious. You two were always together. In fact, you guys were seen so often together that some began to question if you two were just friends. You were quick to deny the speculations and to shut any rumors down, but it didn't always help.

It didn't help that your own friend group also questioned your guys' relationship. You'd remind them it's "platonic" and it's just a "friendship" and not a "relationship". You begun to think that they enjoyed how flustered it made both you and Enzo.

Of course they choose to tease their two most empathetic, shy, and naive friends.

Out of your friend group, it was you who was the most empathetic. Sometimes your friends wondered how you got sorted into Slytherin. You were shy and always were timidly in the background. You weren't super confident in yourself mentally or physically. You were naive to the crudeness and cruelty ongoing around you. You were definitely the innocent one, a trait that your friends admired about you even though they sometimes secretly think your Hufflepuff or something.

You loved to tie a ribbon bow in your hair if that said anything. You use to do a pink ribbon, but everyone teased you for it, so you switched to an emerald green ribbon.

However, it was your friends who scared everyone away who teased you about your love for your bows. They loved your innocence, your naivety, your shyness, and your cuteness. You were like a female version of Enzo in their eyes, but a lot less exposed to the world compared to him. He hung out with the boys a lot because of Quidditch, so it was obvious he had not the most innocent mind.

Enzo and you have known each other since before Hogwarts. After all, your mothers were childhood best friends themselves and this wished the same for their future children. Your mothers were amazed when they ended up pregnant a few months apart. Enzo was older than you by four months, but you both were attached by the hip the moment you both met.

Your mothers believe the two of you are destined or something like that. They said they saw it the day they put their two babies in a room together. They claimed the sun brightened and that childish giggles were all they could hear as the two of your begun to play. Enzo and you always roll your eyes and smile, believing the two women were over exaggerating the day you two were introduced.

"Pans...could we talk about something?" You murmur.

The boys were practicing for their next Quidditch game on Friday against Ravenclaw. It was just Pansy, Astoria and you in the Common Room, but Astoria had fallen asleep while studying. Pansy was reading through her essay and you were trying to read your latest romance novel, but you couldn't quite focus.

"Yeah, of course! What's up?" She asks, looking up at you with a soft smile.

Her black hair was in its normal perfect bob, her green eyes sparkling in the soft glow from the fireplace. She was pale and had sharp features, light freckles dusting across her nose and cheeks. You were always envious of how perfect she looked.

You glanced around the Common Room, realizing it was just you three in the room which was rather strange, but you were thankful in the moment.

"I...I like someone, but I don't think I can like him." You admit softly, so softly she would have had missed it if she weren't accustomed to your soft tone.

"And why is that, honey?" She asks softly, sitting up as she angled herself more towards you.

"He's my friend. I doubt he likes me that way. Even if he did like me that way...I don't know if I could be with him. I'd be worried about losing him if things went array." You admit quietly, anxiously fidgeting with your hands.

"Hun, is this about Enz?" She asks softly, placing a hand over your fidgeting ones.

You look up from your hands, your cheeks flushing red as you meet her soft eyes and her soft smile. You nod slowly, your hair falling in your face, and you suddenly were thankful for the shield to protect you.

"What would you like to do? Would you like to find out where he stands?" She asks.

"I dunno...maybe...maybe I should wait. Maybe it'll go away." You mumble embarrassed.

"Okay, hun...why don't you talk to me after you wait and you're one hundred percent certain how you feel and I'll help you figure it out? How's that sound? It'll give you time to think about it and maybe I can sniff out some information for our next conversation." She says.

"Okay...thanks, Pans. You're the best." You murmur, hugging her.

She smiles, hugging you back as she waits until you pull away. You had always wondered about why she waited to pull away from a hug. You learned that she wanted to wait until the other person was ready to let go because maybe they really needed a hug. You loved that about Pansy and it made her hugs all the more special. 

You both abruptly pull apart when the guys walk in as they talk and yell obnoxiously loud. Astoria had jumped and fallen off the armchair she was curled up on. You and Pansy softly giggle before helping her up and sort her notes back out.

"Our girls! How are you three?" Theodore asks, the group of tall men surrounding you girls.

"I'm tired." Astoria grumbles, curling back up in the armchair, looping an arm around your waist.

You smile softly as her, continuing to play with her hair as she snuggled closer to you.

"We are alright. You boys should go get showered before dinner." Pansy says, a smile on her lips.

"Don't you want a hug, baby?" Blaise pouts.

"Not with how sweaty you are. I'm sure your Quidditch husband would love a hug right now though." She says, rolling her eyes playfully.

You giggle, shaking your head. Blaise and Pansy were such an adorable couple who bantered playfully.

"Girl, you can't pull that on me when you got your school wife." Blaise snorts.

"True. I did get pretty lucky with this fine piece of woman." Pansy says, winking at you as she kisses your cheek.

You flush red at her words, looking down at your lap as you smile shyly. Your hair served as a barrier against the boys' eyes who of course were teasing you about your reaction to Pansy.

You glance up at Enzo to see him staring at your knees with furrowed brows. Your cheeks flush red as you had fallen up the stairs earlier today and had nearly dragged Pansy down. You had some nasty bruises on your knees now.

"Stori, we should go get ready for dinner." You murmur.

"Noooooo." She grumbles, holding you tighter.

"Yesssss, I'm hungry and I'm teetering towards being hangry." You whine.

"And a hangry her is never good." Pansy snorts.

"Hey!" You exclaim with a pout.

"She isn't wrong, love. You are a tad bit scary when you're hangry." Lorenzo says, offering you one of his famous crooked smile.

"Meanie, your suppose to stand up for me." You grumble, crossing your arms over your chest as your pout.

Pansy snorts, rolling her eyes as she watches Enzo's cheeks flush red and he diverts his eyes to the carpet. Theodore clears his throat, catching Pansy's attention and he polity motions to your chest. Pansy snorts, loving how Theodore was always such a gentleman and it explained Enzo's reaction.

"Hun, you've got a few buttons undone and you're pushing your boobs up. I can see your bra too." Pansy whispers.

You flush red and immediately button up the buttons that came undone, struggling as the blouse was a tad bit tight, but you managed.

"Alright! We'll shower and head to dinner. Wait for us?" Theodore asks.

"Yep. Oh! I remembered what I was gonna ask this morning! I need one of your guys' extra jerseys for Friday. I may of forgotten your guys' custom made one for me at my house over break." You admit shyly.

"You can have mine, love." Enzo says softly and you smile thankfully.

"You're the best, Enz! I'd give you a hug, but you are a little sweaty." You say softly.

"She means a lot sweaty, but she's just being nice." Pansy says, her nose crinkling as she looks at the sweaty boys.

The boys all look at each other before grinning and tackling you girls into a hug as you girls squeal and beg for it to stop. You were being held against Enzo's sweaty chest and you look up with a pout as your nose crinkles slightly.

"That's not really nice, now we are all gonna have to shower." You grumble, your hands resting on his chest.

"Oh? What was that? You want more hugs?" He asks, the three of you girls getting passed between the guys once more before you ended up in his arms again.

"Uhhhh, you guys are such jerks." Astoria grumbles sleepily from her boyfriend's hold.

"She isn't wrong." Pansy huffs, shoving Theodore and Blaise away.

"Come on Y/n/n, let's go shower real quick." Astoria mumbles sleepily, holding a hand out to you.

You take her hand, looking at Pansy who takes your other outstretched hand.

"Together?" Theodore asks, his cheeks flushed red as the guys gape at you three.

"Oh yeah, we are gonna just lather each other up with soap and wash each other hairs." Pansy says sarcastically, winking at them as she smirks.

"We technically have showered all at once on a few occasions. I mean we are best friends and we've seen it all before." Astoria says with a shrug.

"And if we are going to get to dinner on time, I guess we'll have no choice." Pansy says, sighing with fake disappointment.

"Uh, can I watch?" Theodore asks before getting smacked by the other guys.

"Uh, girlfriend?" Blaise says in a duh tone.

"We are husbands, we can share a wife." He says.

"My girlfriend." Draco says in a duh tone.

"And no one can see Y/n/n." Mattheo says, his eyes flickering to Enzo.

You start to lead the girls out of the Common Room, heading towards your guys' shared dorm—even though it was just you a majority of the time in here.

"Alright, we have to study hard tonight guys. You boys have a Quidditch game tomorrow and if you don't pass your tests tomorrow, you'll be benched." Pansy says, walking in front of the boys who sat in a line.

You couldn't help, but giggle as Pansy was practically a General of sorts for these boys. She looks at you sharply and raises one of her perfectly sculpted eyebrows.

"You got something to say over there, pipsqueak? I believe if you fail the tests you get a week of detention." She says and you groan, sinking down into a seat next to Blaise.

"Ha!" Astoria says, pointing at you.

"If you fail, you'll be in detention for two weeks and excluded from any extra curricular as well." Pansy scolds.

Astoria sighs and sits down, the group zoning out as Pansy rants before leading them to the library where they take up four tables, the four most needed subjects to be studied for. You were sat next to Enzo who was entirely focused on his studies.

You studied for an hour and still have an hour and a half before dinner which was when this study session was going to be ended. You decide to rest your eyes for a moment, completely unaware of what could have gone wrong.

"Enzo? What are you doing in here?" You ask softly.

His hair was tousled, almost as if he had run his hand through it. His eyes weren't their normal soft and welcoming brown. There was a darkness to them, an edge to them you haven't seen in those eyes before.

"I can't stand it when you're so kind to those fools, love. Can't you see that they just want your attention because they think you're pretty? They don't actually need your help." He says.

His voice sounded an octave deeper as he takes slow deliberate steps towards you. Your eyebrows furrow in confusion.

"They just needed help, Enz. Why is it bothering you?" You ask softly, putting a hand on his arm.

"Because I see the way they look at you. They look at you the way I look at you. They want you, love. They want you like I want you." He murmurs, his eyes slowly looking over your face.

Your lips part in surprise as he wraps an arm around you, pulling you in. He leans down, kissing you hard. You kiss back softly, surprised by how soft his lips were despite the bruising force. His hands find your hips, slowly trailing down to the backs of your thighs. With a barely audible whisper of the word "jump", you do as your told, wrapping your legs around his waist.

His lips were on yours once more, climbing on the bed, slowly crawling up it before lying you down in the middle. He kisses down your jawline, unbuttoning your blouse with skilled fingers. He lifts you slightly, letting you shrug off the blouse as he reaches a hand behind you and undoes the clasp of your bra with two fingers.

"Enz." You whisper softly as he kisses down your neck.

Your fingers begin to undo the buttons to his button up, the two of you slowly working out of clothes. His pillow soft lips find yours once more and you tangle your fingers in his brown locks, holding him closer.

His lets a hand travel down between you both, groaning as he gathers your wetness on his fingers. You whimper, letting him toy with yours folds before pushing yourself in his hand as he pushes a finger inside of you.

"Enzo." You whimper, arching up to be closer to him.

"You're so pretty, baby." He murmurs, leaving marks behind on your neck.

You mind felt foggy, feeling as if you were in a state of shock because this was finally happening. This means he wants you too, right? He's had feelings all along?

"You gonna take my cock like a good girl, baby?" He murmurs, his lips brushing against yours as you looked up at him with your innocent eyes.

"Mhm, I will Enz." You whimper, squirming beneath him.

"You're my good girl, baby. My good and pretty girl." He murmurs as he slowly pushes his cock into you.

You whimper, your nails digging into his skin as you felt yourself stretch to accommodate him. His swollen lips find yours, swallowing your whimpers and soft moans.

He groans, his eyes fluttering closed as he rests his forehead against yours, letting you adjust.

"Oh Enz, you feel so good." You whimper, squirming once more.

He moves, leaving soft kisses on your neck as he starts to move his hips at a slow pace before he slowly picks up the pace. You moans grow louder and closer together as a coil of heat winds in your stomach.

"Such a pretty girl. Taking my cock so good. Mmm, you're such a good girl, baby. You're my good girl." He whispers.

"Your good girl, Enz, only yours." You whimpers

"That's right baby, only mine." He murmurs.

"I'm close, Enz." You whimper, your nails leaving behind bloody crescents in his arms.

"Cum for me, baby. Cum for me like the good girl you are." He murmurs.

"Enzo!" You cry out, coming around him.

He whimpers softly, feeling you squeeze around him. You whimper, feeling his warm seed coat your walls.

"Such a good girl, baby." He whispers into your hair.

"Need you, Enz." You whimper, your lips brushing against his cheek.

You jump awake, looking around slowly as your face flushed red. You realized everyone was still studying and you clench your thighs, feeling your soaked panties. You couldn't believe you just had a dream about your best friend—-right next to him.

"How was your nap, love? I promise I won't tell Pans. You needed it." He says, smiling softly at you.

"Uh, good. I...I'm going to go ahead and go a little early." You mumble.

"Oh? You okay? I can go with you." He says.

"No, that's okay. I-I just need some fresh air." You say.

"Oh...okay, see you later then?" He asks, smiling at you.

"Yeah, later." You whisper, grabbing your stuff and quickly leaving as you ignore Pansy's calls back.

"Here's Enzo's jersey. He said he tried to wait up for you, but you were taking too long." Pansy says, tossing it to you.

You chew at your lip nervously before you throw on the jersey. It was one from last year.

"I-uh-I dunno if I'm going to the game." You murmur.

"What!? This is the big game. At least one of the two. It's against Gryffindor!" She snaps.

"Easy." Astoria scolds.

"Yeah, you're right. I'm sorry." You mumble, scurrying away as she sighs and calls for you.

You hole yourself up in the bathroom until it's literally minutes until you had to leave. You slide the jersey back on, putting your hair in a ponytail with a green and silver ribbon. You slide your skirt on, tugging at it before rolling your eyes.

It was Astoria’s turn to do laundry this week which probably meant she forgot and did some spell which shrunk your guys' clothes—again. You slide your shoes on before you make your way to the field alone.  You couldn't quite get to the girls because the stands were so packed, so you stood a few rows up. You huff as you feel someone keep tugging on your ponytail.

You ignore it and focus on the game that began. They were currently matching up and you saw Enzo looking at the stands. You smile awkwardly when he spots you and he waves so you do the same before you see his frown as he focuses on the person behind you who was still tugging on your ponytail. You huff and pull it away again, turning around to glare at them.

"Please stop it. I'm sure you wouldn't like it if I was pulling on your hair." You scold softly.

"Awww, she can't even stand her own ground. So soft spoken and she says please. God, you are a disgrace to the Slytherin house." He cackles.

He was a year above you and you frown at him, your eyes watering and you turn around, looking down as you cross your arms over your chest.

You ignore the tugging on your ponytail and try to focus on the game, Gryffindor was winning because Enzo kept missing hits as he was watching the stands. Your ribbon is pulled free and your hair was whipping everywhere because the wind. You turn around and try to snatch your ribbon back, but he holds it above your head.

"Give it back you jerk!" You exclaim, trying to grab it.

"God, you are pathetic. Who wears ribbons in their hair? You act like a child all the time and hide around those jerks who think they run the Slytherin house." He laughs.

He elbows you when you managed to get a hold on it. This was your favorite ribbon. It was from Enzo a few years back. You stumble and fall down. One of the first year girls help you up, offering you a sad smile.

"And Berkshire is heading for the stands along with the Riddle twins. It seems that...Anderson is picking on Y/l/n." Neville announces.

"Give it back to her, Anderson." Enzo says.

"And leave her alone or we'll punch your face in." Mattheo warns.

"Pathetic." Anderson hisses at you, giving you the ribbon.

"What did he say, love?" Enzo asks.

You shake your head, looking away.

"Arms up." Mattheo says.

Your eyebrows furrow, but you do as he says. Both he and Tom grab a hand and lift you slightly where you feet were a few inches off the ground, to the front row with Pansy and Astoria to ensure Anderson won't bother you again. Pansy takes your ribbon and gently gathers your hair into a ponytail before tying it. Enzo was a lot more focused on the second half of the game and somehow Slytherin managed to win.

You knew there was an elaborate party planned. You were feeling a bit insecure about you place with your friends after Anderson, so you branched off from the girls who were waiting for their boyfriends. You reach your dorm, curling into a ball on your bed and falling asleep.

You were sitting in the Common Room with the girls again. It was a little over a week since the big win against Gryffindor. The boys were practicing for their next match even though it was Saturday.

You had managed to avoid Enzo since the game against Gryffindor and somehow managed the same at yesterday's game. You managed to find an excuse as to why you couldn't do movie night last week. You tried to find a way to distance yourselves from the girls, the thing Anderson said really bothered you, but Pansy wasn't having it.

"What's going on with you? You've been acting strange." She notes, closing her book.

Astoria looks up from her notes and focuses on the conversation. You frown, playing with the hem of your skirt and sigh.

"Am I...childish?" You ask.

"What? No! Why would you think that?" She asks.

"Anderson said something about me being childish and that I hide around your guys." You mumble.

"Anderson is an asshole. You aren't childish. We love you the way you are and you don't hide around us. You are equally as apart of our group. No one hides." She says, smiling at you.

"Okay." You murmur, smiling slightly.

"Now, what's going on with you and Enz? You've been avoiding him." She says.

"Nothings going on. I haven't been avoiding him." You say quickly.

"You have. He's been real upset about it. He thinks he did something wrong. You canceled on movie night with him last week and you owled him to tell him you didn't think you'd be able to do it tonight. You've got nothing to do and we know that, so what's up?" Astoria asks.

"I...I realized that after these past few weeks that those feelings I've grown to develop for Enz haven't gone anyway. They are getting stronger. I...have you guys ever had a dream about one of the guys?" You ask.

"No, I can't say I have." Astoria says.

"I have. I used to have dreams about Blaise and I before we got together." Pansy says with a grin.

"I've had a dream about all three of you." Mattheo says.

"Same." Theodore says, the pair walking in together

"Where's the others?" Astoria asks.

"Showering. Don't worry." Theodore says.

"Wait...you had a dream about Enz, didn't you?" Astoria asks in shock as she looks back at you.

You nod, your cheeks flushing red as you use your hair as a shield to hide from the four sets of shocked eyes.

"Enz has been torn up this past week. He thinks you hate him or something." Mattheo says.

"Turns out you fancy him! Wait until he hears this." Theodore laughs.

"Tone it done, boys. No one is saying anything. This is her business. Honey, I think it's time you talk with Enz. You're hurting not only him, but yourself by keeping this distance between you guys. It's obvious your feelings for him are growing. It's time you talk about it. Maybe he feels the same." Pansy says softly.

"No. It's fine. Maybe if I ignore it long enough it'll go away. I don't wanna lose him because he doesn't feel the same, Pans. I can't tell him." You say, shaking your head as you pull your knees to your chest.

"Honey, you need to say something." She says softly.

"No. It's fine. It'll be fine. I've been avoiding him, yes, but I'll put an end to that today. I...I should go get snacks for the movie night. Maybe make two pallets...no, he'll still think he's done something wrong if we aren't cuddling like normal." You mumble, thinking more to yourself than talking to your friends who felt bad for you.

"Practice was great!" Enzo exclaims, walking in with his hair dripping wet.

You were completely oblivious as you mumbled to yourself about different snacks and film titles, but then since you have to go out and get the snacks, you started to make a list in your head of some other things you needed.

"Is she okay?" Enzo asks quietly as he looks over you.

"I believe she's just making a list of items she's gonna grab when she heads into town real quick. See, snacks, clothes because Astoria shrunk ours again—wait! Astoria! You shrunk our clothes again!" Pansy exclaims.

"I didn't mean to!" She exclaims.

You get up, heading to your dorm, unaware that Enzo was following you. You sit at your desk and start to make a list.

"Love, can we talk?" He asks.

"Argh!" You exclaim, you hand knocking the ink pot over.

You mumble curses as you hurry to clean it up before turning to Enzo with a sheepish smile. He smiles slightly.

"O-Of course, sorry. I've been kinda in my head all day today." You admit shyly.

"Is something bothering you?" He asks.

"No, no, of course not. What do you wanna talk about?" You ask.

"Why have you been avoiding me?" He asks.

"I haven't been avoiding you, Enz. I've just been a tad bit busy is all." You say, smiling softly at him.

"So you have time for our movie night tonight?" He asks.

"Mhm. I just have to grab snacks. Anything you want?" You say.

"Just you, love." He says cheekily, winking at you.

"I-oh-well I'm getting snacks anyway. I have to get me some new clothes again anyway." You say shyly.

"You could just wear my shirts...or nothing, but whatever suits your boat, love." He says, smiling as he leaves.

Pansy walks in with raised brows and she gives you a grin when she sees your dropped jaw.

"I believe Enz just suggested he rather see me in his clothes or naked." You mumble.

"Okay...Enz is here, check...snacks is a check, as are the drinks...extra blankets is a check...I feel like I'm forgetting something. Am I forgetting something?" You ask as you look back at your list.

Enzo was lying on your bed, his arms behind his head as he watched you pace with your clipboard and quill.

"You right next to me." He says and your cheeks flush red.

"Enz, I'm being serious. Something is missing. Or am I going bonkers?" You ask.

"In my eyes you've always been a bit bonkers, but in the cutest most adorable way you can be bonkers. Nothing is missing though. I think you're overthinking per usual." He says.

"Jerk." You grumble.

You take your sweater off, leaving you in a white tank top and your skirt. You carefully climb onto the bed, careful not to flash him as Astoria unfortunately shrunk your guys' underwear as well and Enzo talked you out of clothes shopping today as he wanted to watch two films.

You start the movie, bringing the blankets up more as you were cold.

"Why are you so far away? Get over here, love." He says.

You scooch over slowly until he rolls his eyes and wraps his arm around you, pulling you closer to him. You sigh softly, resting your head on his shoulder and resting a hand above his heart. He rubs circles on your exposed side, slowly going higher. It wasn't strange for him to do this. Enzo was a very touchy person when it came to showing his affection.

"What was your dream about?" He asks.

"What?" You mumble confused.

"Your dream about me. You were talking about it earlier today. What was it that I was doing to you?" He asks.

"Oh...you heard about that...which means you heard everything after that too." You whisper as your nerves begin to start.

You go to get up, but he rolls over so that you're beneath him. You look up at him with wide eyes.

"You aren't going anywhere, pretty girl. We are going to talk about this." He says seriously.

"I-uh-oh." You splutter, your cheeks flushed red as your heart races.

"Is it hard to believe I like you too, love? I thought I had been making it pretty obvious." He mumbles, his eyes flickering over your face.

"You like me?" You squeak.

"Mhm, quite a bit. I never thought you'd like me, but then I overheard the conversation earlier and it was like a new hope for me." He admits.

"Enz...I never would've thought you would like me. I just thought you saw me as your best friend." You admit shyly.

"You'll always be my best friend, love. But, now we can be more too." He admits.

Your eyes flicker to his lips, wondering if they are as soft as they were in your dream. His eyes darken, catching where your eyes were focused. He leans down, kissing your lips softly. You hum softly as you kiss back, tangling your fingers in his hair. 

He trails a hand between you both, ghosting over your stomach before trailing down your thigh. You whimper as he moves his hand back up your thigh, moving it beneath your skirt. You try to squeeze your legs close, but he was in between your legs.

His fingers brush against your wet folds as he pulls away with a grunt. His eyes find yours and you flush red under his intense gaze.

"No panties?" He asks.

"N-No, Stori shrunk our clothes again." You whisper.

"Such a dirty girl, aren't you?" He murmurs, leaning down and kissing the column of your neck.

You let a shaky breath out as your eyes fluttered closed. You push yourself down closer to his hand that was between your legs. You whine softly as he rubs the sensitive bundle of nerves.

"Enzo, please." You plead, squirming beneath him.

"So impatient, baby." He murmurs, nipping at your neck and eliciting a gasp from you.

Before you could scold him to hurry up, he was working his pants off. Your fingers went to his loosely buttoned dress shirt where you begin to unbutton it. He shrugs it off after kicking his boxers and pants off.

He starts to pull your skirt down as you stare at his hard cock that was thick and long, a vein bulging out the side of it, the head an angry red and oozing precum.

You sit up and take off your tank top, before lying back down. He hovers above you, kissing your lips so softly as he praises you and calls you beautiful as he sinks into you. You arch up into him, your nails dragging down his back as your walls stretch to accommodate him.

"Enzo!" You moan, his lips swallowing the sweet sound.

"Your alright baby, you're doing so good. Taking my cock like the little cock slut you are, aren't you?" He murmurs into your ear.

You clench around him, the dirty name making something twist inside of you as you let a breathy moan out. You never expected Enzo to say such dirty things.

"Enz!" You cry, arching your back off the bed as his thrusts speed up.

You squirm, feeling the overwhelming pressure building. He holds your hips, his teeth leaving marks all over your skin, leaving his claim. He wanted everyone to know that you were his. Now that he had you, there was no letting go.

"That's it baby, keep taking my cock like a good girl. You feel so good around my cock, so fucking tight." He says, his voice deeper—huskier.

You wished he'd keep quiet just for the fact that hearing him like that—was because of you and that made a whole new feeling wash over you.

His lips slant over yours, the two of your lips moving in sync. You follow his lead, sinking back further into the bed and he follows, deepening the kiss. Your hands get lost in his hair as he bites your bottom lip, swallowing your whimper as he deepens the kiss once more.

His tongue glides across your bottom lip, before teeth were clashing as the kiss got too intense. You both pull away, chests heaving as you both tried to catch your breath.

"Thank you, Pansy. I really appreciate it." You say, smiling softly as she helped cover all the hickeys.

"I get it. Eventually, he'll get a little control over himself. The boys, especially our boys, are all about staking their claim. I don't get it entirely either, but if it helps them sleep at night, so be it." She says, laughing softly and you join her.

You both walk to breakfast, getting lost in your guys' normal conversation. You were unaware of Enzo's eyes on you as you walked in.

His lips part, seeing you wearing an olive green sundress that ended a little above mid thigh. Your hair was down and the smile on your face lit up the whole room.

"You're staring." Theodore chuckles.

"Fuck, she's so hot...wait a damn minute. One, she covered her hickeys and two, there's over a seventy five percent chance that if she moves the wrong way in that dress she will flash someone." Enzo says, sitting up straighter.

"Look...I learned the hard way, but you've just got to trust her. Don't make the mistakes I did and make the foundation rocky in the beginning." Blaise says.

He sighs, looking at his plate as you and Pansy take a seat. He looks up and has to take a deep breath. He hated how much cleavage was on show, because he knew people would see you like this.

You looked beautiful.

But, he hated the idea of other men seeing you this way. He remembered his plan and reached beneath the table for the bouquet of flowers. Your lips part as he hands you the assortment of flowers.

"Will you be my girlfriend, Y/n/n?" He asks, his cheeks turning a light shade of pink as the boys whoop and tease him.

You smile and look at him like he was the only man in the world—a look that made him melt.

"I'd love to, Enz." You say softly.

The whole table whoops louder before being quieted by Professor Snape. You smile at Enzo, feeling really good about this.

[wildnya]

oh and don’t forget the other problems dog owners encounter

then there’s the people who go out of their way to make sure their dog gets close to your own or let them off the leash when they’re not trained to come back when called.

i don’t have a dog currently but grew up with them. when i see or hear about someone doing this it makes me mad. there’s a sound on the clock app of a man shouting his dog isn’t friendly while someone tries to bring their own pup close.

i’ve watched a video of a dog attacking a horse. and to make matters worse it was hooked up to a carriage that currently had people in it. if i remember correctly one of them was a young child. the dog would not leave the horse alone and ended up giving the poor thing multiple puncture wounds. the horse lived and none of the people in the carriage were harmed. and guess what happened to the dog? it had to be put down because of all the injuries it sustained.

another video i’ve seen of an untrained off leash dog involves a woman and her parrot. she had taken it out to fly outside when the dog suddenly appeared and began chasing after it. the lady kept screaming at the owner to come get it because it would have killed her pet. the poor bird was forced to keep flying and couldn’t find comfort in landing on its mom since the dog was big enough to knock her off balance.

also the people who pretend their dogs are service animals need to have harsher consequences for their actions. laws need to be made to keep people from abusing the service animal system. i’ve seen so many incidents of fakes attacking actual ones. not once have i seen or heard of a faker get in any trouble outside of getting kicked off the property. it’s horrible and unfair to the people who actually do need their animals. sometimes the victims have to retire early and now their owners have to spend a shit ton of money again to get the assistance they need. (at least this is often the case in the USA i can’t speak for other countries)

and don’t forget the people who bring their aggressive dogs to dog parks. i recently saw some bitch of a karen her dog into the area meant for small dogs. it was twice the size of most of the other dogs and attacking them. the other owners had to grab her dog themselves to protect their own. and this woman had the audacity to yell at them.

my own childhood dog, koda, had a run in with two or three(this happened nearly a decade ago so it’s kinda fuzzy) dogs that ganged up on him when he was still a pup. they were biting and scaring him. the couple with the dogs didn’t seem to really care, they halfheartedly recalled them and were in no rush to come and pull them off koda. it wasn’t until i gently started kicking them did they get serious. only then did they give a shit.

pardon my language but i downright hate it when someone just comes up to my dog and pets them like why 🤠 where do you take the right to just go up to someone‘s dog and pet them but then if something were to happen it‘ll be my fault

[melrosing]

anyway in an absolutely wild turn of events I think I’m free of my hideous job and like. substantially richer for it??? lmao 2023 you really owed me

[that-sarcastic-writer]

Too Sweet

Logan Howlett X F!Reader

Summary: you tell Logan not to hold back anymore. And who is he to deny his sweet girlfriend anything? This is just porn without plot

Wrote this with Xmen/X2 Logan in mind but you may picture whichever Logan suits your needs

Warnings: explicit sexual content, minors dni, piv, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it my children), oral (f receiving), fingering, soft rough sex, Logan talks you through it, creampie, choking, the claws make an appearance (duh), Logan is obsessed with his girl, established relationship

WC: 3.2K

A/N: SOMETHING SHORT SHE SAID. I need to be put down. I am feral over this man. Seeing DP&W got me acting tf up. It put me back into my Logan obsession so I rewatched all of his movies. And now I need him. So here you go. Might write more with him soon. For now is this.

Follow my reading blog to stay updated with my works if you’d like to see more @midnightreadinglibrary

You were sweet. You were, oh, so sweet. Such a pretty sweet thing. You were so going to be the death of him. Playing with the strings of his sanity, of his composure. Worst of all, you were doing nothing at all to make him go insane. Other than love and care for him that was.

He tried, he really did, he tried to keep himself under control when he was with you, and he was doing a pretty good job of it so far. But god, today, today you were going to make him loose his fucking mind. He had decided to visit you, unannounced he stopped by your apartment. And what did he find? You, in the kitchen, in nothing but a red flannel, his red flannel. Speechless, he was. 

Logan stood in silence, blinking slowly as his eyes took in every part of you with growing intensity. Your legs were bare, your ass barely covered by the length of his shirt and you seemed rather happy like this. Is this what you did when he wasn’t around? And why did the sight of you suddenly wake deep within him an overwhelming need to ruin you? 

Almost as if the intensity of his presence got your absentminded attention, you turned your head to find him standing in the entryway with an unreadable expression. And though a little bit flustered by his unannounced visit, you welcomed him with a soft smile.

“Hi Logan.” You greeted him with glee, all but skipping over to him to greet him properly, of course. You were standing on the ends of your toes and throwing your arms over his broad shoulders while he just stood in ominous silence, only a deep exhale leaving his lips. “Are you okay baby?”

“Yeah.” His voice strained with restraint as he fought the deep urge to throw you over the nearest flat surface. Instead he simply placed his hands on your hips, squeezing unevenly as he gave you an eyebrow raise. “New shirt?”

“Oh,” Your lips fell open in a bit of embarrassment and you laughed softly, flustered as you looked down at the shirt that was clearly not yours. It kind of smelled like him still. “Yeah so, my washer broke, I don’t know what happened to it, and I couldn’t find anything comfortable so… Does it bother you?”

Did it bother him? The only thing that was bothering him was his already hard cock straining against his jeans. 

“A pretty girl in my clothes? I would be fucking stupid.” 

The way his words left his mouth made you laugh. But the look in those hazel eyes was anything but humorous. Animalistic and full of need. Your lips curled up into a smile as he leaned down to crash his lips against yours. Messily and intensely his lips moved against yours as his hands squeezed and touched everywhere he could, as if he didn’t know which part of you he craved to feel more. 

“You’d look prettier on your back though.” He muttered against your mouth, lightly nipping at your bottom lip. You were more than happy to comply.

A string of giggles left your lips as his lips tickled over your stomach. You laid flat on the soft covers as Logan settled between the warmth of your thighs. He pried your legs open, fingers digging into your skin as his sharp canines lightly nipped at the plush flesh on your inner thigh. You gasped, though overwhelmed with excitement.

“Logan.” You scolded him, knowing you would have a mark there, but the sound of your voice turned into a delicious whine when he pressed his nose into your panties, inhaling that oh so intoxicating scent of yours. 

An almost animalistic growl rumbled in his chest, “I’ve been thinkin’ about this sweet pussy all day.” He pressed a hard kiss to your hole, the bridge of his nose bumping your clothed clit. The sudden pressure had you gasping for air, your chest pounding with anticipation.

Your panties were off your body and thrown over his shoulder in a split second, his lips latching on to your clit with reckless urgency. One would think this man hadn’t seen you in weeks, when he had seen, and taken you only two nights ago. Alas, that was one the things you loved the most about Logan, his unending need to touch you, to feel you, to be all over you. You thought he would get tired eventually, but his drive was almost animalistic. He never had enough, though he often held back for your sake. 

His tongue lapped at your pussy with abandon. From your hole to your clit, circling and sucking before diving back into your walls. Squirming, you were chasing his mouth with your hips, body overcome with pleasure as he worked your walls. It annoyed him at times, the way your hips moved and lifted off the mattress with sensitivity as he fucked you with his tongue, when his nose brushed against your clit. With a frustrated grunt, he grabbed a hold of your thighs and pressed your knees against your stomach, holding you down and spreading you open for him to do as he pleased. 

“You squirm too fucking much.” He huffed, but there was a slight bit of amusement laced in his tongue.

Your response came in the form of a whimper, a pathetic sound that only grew louder when two thick fingers replaced his tongue inside your wet hole. He looked up at you with pure primal need as his fingers worked your tight walls, crooking against that one spot that had you crying.

“Please, please Logan.” You didn’t know what you were pleading for. Mercy? Sweet release? To be ruined? You didn’t know. 

Logan raised an amused eyebrow at you, wet lips curled up into a tiny smirk as he moved his tongue back to your clit. He licked and sucked to match each delicious drag of his fingers. The sounds leaving him were just as filthy as the things he was doing to you, groaning and grunting into your pussy as he ate you like a starving man. 

It was no surprise that he had you shaking and crying, overcome with pleasure, eyes blurry with tears, your release rapidly approaching. You latched on to his hair, tugging and pulling at the strands as your pathetic sounds filled the room. 

“That feels so—ugh—feels so good—please.” Were you making any sense? No. Did he care? Fuck no. Seeing you so desperate, so consumed with pleasure, a complete and utter mess for him, it snapped something in him. Deep inside the most perveted and secluded corner of his mind, he liked it. And though he shouldn’t, he wanted more. 

Your release was hard and sudden, your loud sounds were almost as overwhelming as the feeling of his tongue still lapping at your sensitive clit. You were writhing on the mattress, nearly crying as you had no option but to take it, it wasn’t like you could run away, not with the way his free held you down, one hand of his was stronger than all of you combined. All you could do was sob and pull at his hair as he dragged out your orgasm. 

“L-Logan.” You pleaded weakly, throat dry as you pushed yourself up on your elbows, chest glistening with a layer of sweet, lightly clinging to the fabric of Logan’s shirt. All you could see was his dark hair before his eyes met yours. The look behind his eyes was indescribable but it had you clenching you around nothing when his fingers left you. 

Your thighs twitched in aftershock when his mouth left you. You felt him press his forehead against your thighs, his hardened breath fanning against your hot skin for a long second. He needed a second to calm down, keep himself under control, he couldn’t let his primal instincts get the best of him.

You ran your fingers along his face, threading through the hair along his cheek and you silently ushered him up. He complied, in an instant settling between your open legs to find your mouth again. You could taste yourself on his lips, on his tongue, it was all so much for your clouded mind. His fingers were on your hair as his mouth took yours with growing urgency. You could feel him through the roughness of his jeans, brushing against your clit in ways that made you dizzy. You needed him, and you needed him bad. You reached down, trembling fingers fumbling with his belt, but before you could undress him he was pulling back, rough fingers holding your wrist.

“Hold on, just hold on a minute.” He was breathing hard, chest pounding as he looked at your confused face. 

“Wait, why? What's wrong?” God, you were too sweet, too kind for him, he couldn’t do it. 

“I just… Shit.” He closed his eyes, jaw set as tried to control his clouded mind, but he could only do so much to restrain all of the filthy things he craved to do to you. The way you were looking up at him, eyes big with concern, gentle hands holding his face, preventing him from going anywhere. “I think we should stop. I should stop.”

“Oh… I mean.. We can stop whenever but.. Why? Did I do something wrong?” You were sitting up, and the sadness and disappointment in your pretty eyes made him curse at himself.

“No. No. Fuck, no. I’m the problem. I don’t think I can hold myself back anymore.” He finally admitted it, words leaving his chest with heaviness. Your face remained the same, confused.

“Well, why would you? I never asked you to.” It finally dawned on you what he meant, and you were unbothered, if anything the look on your face was of eagerness. With malice, you threw your legs around his waist, pulling him closer. “I don’t want you to hold back with me.”

“Sweetheart..” He was warning you, voice rumbling in his chest as he closed his eyes, one last attempt to keep his composure before it was inevitably too late.

“I won’t break Logan. I trust you. And I want it.” Your last words came out with sharpness, a grueling intensity that had him groaning under his breath. You pressed a kiss to his jaw, almost as if to emphasize your point. And it was like a switch flipped in his head. 

With an uneven breath he was sitting up on his knees, white undershirt thrown to be forgotten somewhere in your room. And you were happily delighted as you watched him toss his belt aside and undo his jeans. He pulled his cock out of his pants with a strained groan and you were holding your breath in anticipation, legs open and welcoming him. His eyes were dark with pure raw desire as he settled between your legs, cock hard and heavy as he kicked the rest of his clothes off like it had insulted him.

“Don’t fucking hold back.” You snapped at him as he held himself up on his forearm, his other hand holding himself against your entrance. Your words shot straight to his cock and his lips curled up into a grin.

“Hold on, pretty.” He rumbled, chest heavy as he sank himself into your wet cunt in one single thrust.

Your lips fell open, eyes instantly rolling at the delicious feeling of his thick and heavy cock splitting you open. It was an intoxicating feeling you couldn’t get enough of; you were fucking sure he had ruined every other man for you. Not that it bothered you. 

The pace he set was grueling from the start, one hand braced on your pillow beside your head and the other on your thigh, rough fingers feeling up and down the skin as he drove his cock in and out of your walls. Sounds of pleasure left your lips almost immediately as the sting of his cock had you dragging your nails up and down his back, leaving red angry marks that healed in a split second. He absolutely adored the burning sensation your nails left on his skin, over and over. 

It was brutal, the way his hips drove you into the mattress as he fucked the life out of you. You did ask him to, you realized that perhaps your lack of restraint when it came to him would indeed be the end of you today, but at least you’d die happy by his cock. His forehead touched yours, eyes on your chest as he forced the buttons of his shirt open. His hand immediately cupped your breast, squeezing and he forced your body up and down on the mattress with each relentless snap of his hips. You cried out, head thrown back as your cunt squeezed his cock, unable to do much other than take everything he had to give you. His hand traveled up your chest to your exposed neck, fingers sprawled over your throat but not putting pressure. 

“Yes. Please, yes, do it.” Delirious, cock-drunk, fucked out, you might have been all of those things, but you were perfectly aware of him surrounding you, caging you in, consuming you. And you wanted all of it.

“Fuck, pretty.” His lips brushed yours as his fingers lightly squeezed your throat. He could feel the air leaving your tightening throat, and the way you squeezed his cock in response had him creasing his eyebrows with pleasure. “This what you wanted? You just wanted it rough, huh?”

You were nodding your head, breathless as blood rushed to your face, the lack of blood flow making you all the more delirious. Absolutely lost, so deep within your pleasure that your brain wasn’t working anymore. All that was consuming your mind was Logan, his scent, his sounds, the tip of his cock brushing that spot that had you squirming. You didn’t even realize tears were coating your cheeks, so lost that your moans had turned into cries. 

“Shh, it’s okay, you’re okay.” The hand on your neck moved to swipe away your tears as he leaned down to kiss your cheek in an attempt to bring you back to reality, the gentle gesture a juxtaposition to the ruthless drag of his cock. “There’s not a single thought in that pretty head of yours, huh?”

He adjusted himself above you, his chest pressed against yours, thick hairs tickling your skin with each deep stroke. There was a bit of smugness on his pleasured expressions, seeing you so utterly out of it, his cock being the reason. Seeing such a sweet little thing coming completely undone by his hand gave him a sense of satisfaction that made his cock twitch. 

He held your face, watching the way your eyes rolled back with pleasure, the crease in your eyebrows and your soft lips parted as filthy sounds left you. It was the prettiest of things.

“It just feels so good, huh? Can’t even talk.” he huffed a laugh, his nose brushing against yours as his free hand found your swollen clit and you were gasping as your thighs shuddered, sweet release building. “Talk to me, pretty girl. Tell me how good it feels. ‘Cause this sure feels so fucking good to me.” 

“Mhmm!” It took your brain a long minute to register his words, it was damn near impossible to focus on anything when his cock was making you feel so good, when you could feel your release so close. “Feels so good—Please, need it. Logan please.”

Who was he to ever deny his sweet girl anything? 

Logan moved his free hand to one of your thighs, holding it and bending it so that one of your knees was damn near next to your head. He drilled into you, fucking you into the matress and rubbing harsh circles on your swollen clit until you were nothing but a shaking, sobbing mess, filled with the neverending bliss of your release. 

“That’s it, atta girl.” He pressed his lips to your bruised lips, swallowing the pathetic sounds of your orgasm as he continued to chase his own. Your release seeped through his cock as his hand left your clit. He braced himself on the pillow beside your head he continued to fuck you into his release. “You’re doing so well sweetheart, take it just like that.”

Tears pricked at your eyes as you sobbed, the hairs at the base of his cock grazing your clit as he abused your hole. Desperate hands latched on to his hair as you held him, simply taking everything he had to give you. He was close, so incredibly close, composure completely gone from his body as he chased his release with selfish abandon. He dropped his face into your neck, sharp canines nipping at the soft skin, surely to leave a mark or two.

“Please Logan. Come in me. Please, I need it—” Though broken, in between pathetic whimpers you pleaded to him. And if he had any self-restraint left it was fucking gone.

The sound that rumbled in Logan’s chest was purely animalistic, a feral growl and the sound of metallic sharp claws rang in your ears next to your head. You gasped in pleasant surprise, moaning at the thought of him losing control like this. It should concern him, it should. But he couldn’t give one fuck. He coated your insides with his release, eyes closed and eyebrows creased into this twisted expression of rapture. With a couple final thrusts he pumped you full of himself until you were leaking around his cock. Only then did he still his pistoning hips. 

“Fuck.” You heard him grunt in your ear, followed by the sound of his claws sheathing back into his knuckles. Your eyes widened with aftershock and your wash chest was heavy as you panted. 

Logan lifted his head from your neck to look at you, heavy breaths leaving his chest as he tried to bring himself back to reality.

“I… I didn’t mean to..” He trailed off, though slightly apologetic as he caught a glimpse of the three punctured holes on your pillow, he did not regret it one bit. You were quickly shaking your head at him, a tired smile on your face.

“Don’t be. That was like, so hot.” You bit your lip, throwing your arms over his broad shoulders as you pulled him into a kiss. He hummed, hand beside your head as he brushed your hair out of your face. “You owe me some new pillows though.”

“Yeah? Might owe you more than that then.” A smug smirk replaced his concern as he rolled his hips, making you aware of his still hard cock, hot and heavy in your walls. You gasped, wide eyes meeting his own. “What? You thought I was done with you?” 

With a hold of your arm he flipped you on your stomach, the sudden movement making you whimper. But the thought of him taking you over and over sure had you eager in anticipation. Though as his cock sunk into your cunt once more you were beginning to wonder just how much your curiosity was going to cost you. Surely a whole day in bed tomorrow would be in order. He was so going to be the death of you. Little did you know, you were already going to be his.

[floral-hex]

January 2024: well, I can’t get my antidepressants anymore and this withdrawal makes me want to kill myself. From now on I’ll just raw dog these feelings so I never have to deal with these side effects again.

June 2024: I’m gonna die. I’m gonna die. I’m gonna die. The world is ending. We’re all walking through the end times and whether I die soon or the world collapses in on itself, I can feel the simultaneous emptiness and crushing weight of the end. There is nothing.

[heavenbarnes]

I used to date an older guy (like mid 40s) a few years back and I always got stupidly turned on when he fixed stuff around his house?? Like, he just knew hot to do it and did it. No googling, just him and his tools. Feel like it would fit somewhere in your older bf Simon stuff.

god love a fully capable “fuck it i’ll do it” type of man 🫶🏼

you know that your older bf!simon doesn’t believe in hiring tradespeople for a service.

“why would i pay someone to fuck about in my home?”

“they’re not fucking about, si! they’d be fixing the sink”

“i’ll do it”

you have no doubt that simon was more than capable of fixing things around the house but you also wanted him relaxing when he was home.

turns out he couldn’t relax at the thought of another man doing something for you.

so you let him do it, you threw your hands up and waved your white tea towel in defeat as you heard him banging around in the garage for tools.

hearing the faint sounds of grunting and the occasional swear word coming from the bathroom, you thought it might pay to go and see how he was getting on.

fucking hell.

simon was on his back, arms stretched up above him as his hands dwarfed the pipe they were wrapped around. t-shirt riding up, lines of his stomach leading right to his belt, knees bent and boots firmly planted on the floor, you could honestly just-

“oi, you gonna’ stare or help me?”

now how the fuck?

“your heads in the cupboard, how did you know-“

“i always know where you are, pass me the wrench”

crouching down beside him, you handed it over and stayed down there to watch him work. scarred knuckles wrapped around the handle of the tool, other palm flat against the base of the sink so you could see the veins.

he was something else entirely.

“how d’you know how to do all this?”

“taught m’self, come hold this”

you reached over to replace where his palm was so he could have both hands back. “but why? surely other people don’t learn all this?”

“other people don’t care about their sweet’art not having to lift a finger- move your finger for me”

the more you stretched to hold the sink, the more you felt yourself losing traction with it. naturally, simon noticed before you did.

“y’need to get closer, cm’ere”

tools landing to the side of him, two large hands plucked you up till you were dropped in his lap. precarious situation but you couldn’t deny the sink was a lot easier to reach.

you stayed like that, letting simon work in peace as you enjoyed your view. honestly, he could invite you to the end of the world and you’d just be happy to hold his hand.

one hand splayed out on his chest, the other holding the sink, you suddenly felt a tickle forming at the end of your nose. before you knew it, you were pulling your hand back to scratch it- the one holding the sink.

you panicked, realising it could very well land on simon’s head. but it didn’t, it stayed completely still. face screwing up, you leant in again to give the sink a nudge only to find out it was totally fixed.

“what the hell, si? why’d you have me doing all that?”

you saw the smirk on his face as he flashed a look over at you. suddenly, you realised you weren’t the only one enjoying the view.

the hand that didn’t have the wrench came out to give you a pat on the side of your hip.

“c’mon sweet’art, i can’t get anything outta’ this?”

[kamiversee]

Big ruby shaded eyes, matching that of her father’s, have this adorable thin layer of gloss over them as she pleads with her parent for the millionth time.

“Daddy pwease?” She has the cutest little pout on her face, one that’s worked on her mother time and time again that’s sure to work on her father too—

“No.” Sukuna says yet again.

The child is tired of asking and receiving that same answer over and over. She doesn’t understand one bit why but she hates hearing that word. Folding her arms, she lets out an annoyed puff, “Mommy would never tell me no…”

One statement and there’s already another vein bulging in the right corner of Sukuna Ryomen’s forehead. “Go away, brat.” He breathes out in an overly irritated tone.

The child, unable to take no for an answer and more like her father than she even realizes, takes her foot and brings it down on the curse’s foot in frustration.

If he wasn’t ticked off before, he damn sure is now. “You little—“

“Sukuna,” And there it is, the voice of the sole human in this reality who could ever even dream of cutting the king of curses off mid-sentence. Not only is it you, the mother of his overly insolent child, but you have the nerve to give him that scolding tone he hates (loves).

He scowls for a long moment before looking down to the smaller human who carries more of your features than his. “Fine, child.” Sukuna drawls out after a long roll of his many eyes.

Then, with a big smile plastered all over her small face, her hands are shooting up and she’s making a grab motion with her hands.

Sukuna stares down at her and sighs, “You really are a spoiled brat, y’know…” He grumps while leaning down to pick his daughter up with one out of his two pairs of hands. “…Just like your damn mother.”

The child’s smile fades for a moment and she tilts her head, “Damn?” She repeats in a confused tone, making Sukuna’s heart spike.

“Wait-, don’t… don’t say that.” He’s been down this road one two many times—having taught the child how to say ‘fuck’ the moment she began spewing words. He received an earful from you that he didn’t care for so, here he is now, “That’s a bad word.”

His daughter blinks, “But, Daddy said it.”

Sukuna groans lowly in irritation, “Daddy can say whatever the hell he wants.”

“Hell?” Oh she had to be doing this on purpose, knowing her mother was only a room away.

“Child.” The curse scolds, “Are you trying to irritate me?”

She shrugs playfully, “This is what you get for telling me no.”

“You asked me if you could draw on my face.” He deadpans.

“And you should’ve said yes,” You suddenly chime in, entering the room, “Instead of teaching her more curse words.”

The little girl snickers in Sukuna’s arms and he swears he has an image of the child being flung across the room for just a moment. That image is interrupted by the girl speaking again.

“Like fuck?” She says loud and clear. “I heard Daddy say it again earlier today—“

A big hand goes over her mouth (practically her entire face) and she’s cut off by her father who’s innocently smiling at you, his darling wife.

“Ignore her. I was just about to let her draw on my face so,” He glances down at his daughter who’s giggling victoriously beneath his palm and then sighs, “If you’ll excuse us.”

You’re left smiling at the two as Sukuna turns away with his daughter and exits the room—the sound of them bickering as soon as they’re out of sight heard moments later.

And the next time you lay eyes on the two, Sukuna’s got a face full of stickers and marker and his little mini-me has a mocking face full of her father’s markings. To which you just had to take a million and one pictures of.

[pixlokita]

Painful wing fanart incoming but you already knew about it and colored it so like -w- hiding it for the gore and blood tho >>

I feel like it was less gory in black and white but honestly 👀✨ aight don’t mind me I’m going to the tag now

BEHOLD!!! AN ART TRADE!!! @pixlokita it is time!

Caution, do not click read more if you do not intend to read. This is 12,192 words. And no, I'm not kidding. This is so much longer than most of the stuff I write. That being said, enjoy!!!

Evan said Michael was sick, which worried Jeremy. Being sick should not mean Michael would try so hard to avoid Jeremy, especially since he knew it would make Jeremy worry about him more.

But the main part Jeremy was worried about was the way Evan’s new wings kept fluffing up. Was Michael mad at him?

Don’t worry about it, Jeremy, he told himself. If Michael’s mad, he’ll tell you eventually.

It just stung. Evan and Gregory were wandering around the house, trying to see if their wings would allow them to do various things. Evan’s were too small to do much, and Gregory still hadn’t gotten used to them yet, but at least they had something to do while Mr. Emily tried to figure out what could possibly cause this.

“Ugh!” Gregory exclaimed, plopping down on the sofa next to Jeremy. He took the soda from Jeremy’s hand and took a giant sip. “These things suck.”

“What do you mean?” Jeremy asked, unsuccessfully trying to retrieve his Coke.

“I mean,” Gregory scowled, taking another sip, “that wings are stupid. They don’t even bend the way I want them to.”

“Well…” Jeremy said thoughtfully. “They are just extra limbs, right? With bones and joints and stuff?”

“I guess so.” Gregory finally gave Jeremy his soda back. “But they don’t move how I want-“

“You couldn’t do much when you were a baby right? Learning to crawl?” Jeremy chugged the rest of his Coke before putting the empty can down. “It’s an accomplishment when babies get their heads off the floor on their own, you know. And rolling and stuff.”

“Oh.” Gregory clearly hadn’t thought about it that way. “But Evan’s got excellent control already.”

“He’s had them longer.” Jeremy shrugged. “Maybe he’s just a quick learner. Or maybe, there’s less wing to work with. Could be a bunch of things.”

“But…” Gregory sighed. He inched closer to Jeremy on the couch, his wings refusing to bend in a natural way.

Jeremy awkwardly looped a comforting arm around Gregory. “You’ll get there eventually.”

“They just hurt. All the time.”

“I can’t help with that,” Jeremy chuckled.

“Sure you can! Mike did this thing once, where he…” Gregory chewed his lip. “Well, I’m not exactly sure what he did.”

“You want me to pet you?” Jeremy said in disbelief. “Nuh uh. Go ask Evan. That’s not… No.”

“Why’d you make it weird?” Gregory shook his head. “It was like…”

“Like a shoulder massage,” Evan interjected helpfully. His wings flexed, expanding fully as he explained. They barely went past his shoulders, but the point got across.

Jeremy admired the confidence with which he showed them. He’d personally be too worried about people calling him a freak. Which, thinking about it, was not likely to happen in this house. Everyone was too nice here.

“Mikey went like this,” Evan said, pulling Jeremy’s arm back to get to Gregory’s wings.

Gently, Evan messaged the inner edge of Gregory’s wings, right where they extended from his back. Gregory’s wings convulsed, the claw on one nearly hitting Jeremy in the face. “I think they get itchy,” Evan mused. “We might have to just do this more often.”

“No kidding,” Gregory said with a sigh, his eyes closing and his shoulders relaxing. “But Mike’s still better at it.”

“Wonder where he got his practice,” Jeremy replied. He didn’t mean to sound bitter, but it still came across that way.

Evan winched, but he didn’t comment on it. Instead, he kept focused on his task. Gregory sighed absently. “Wings are a lot of work.”

“Seems that way,” Jeremy replied.

Gregory folded and unfolded his hands while Evan worked. “I just…”

Jeremy spared him a glance as he went to get another can of Coke. “Something on your mind?”

“His girlfriend,” Evan said absently.

“Cassie’s not my girlfriend!” Gregory said, straightening. His wings fluffed up as he said it.

“Oh.” Jeremy had no idea what to make of that. “What happened to her?”

“I don’t know!” Gregory replied. He ran a hand through his hair to try to make it lay flat. “She was at Evan’s party, and she looked really bad. I think Mike took care of it, but he didn’t really say anything about it afterwards.”

“She’s probably at the hospital, Gregory,” Evan replied, trying to be soothing. “We can visit her once we figure out what to do about this first.”

“Stupid wings,” Gregory grumbled. “Making everything harder.”

Jeremy didn’t know how to reply to that. He cracked the can open and took a sip. “Have you asked Mike?”

“He’s sick,” Evan answered for Gregory. His wings fluffed up again.

“Maybe we should check on him then. He’s been resting all week right?” Jeremy asked, trying to be casual about it. Evan had been very guarded about his older brother this whole time.

Jeremy came over every day, and every day, Evan said the same thing. “Mike’s sick. He can’t see anyone right now.”

It had been happening since the day Gregory’s wings had burst through his skin. Jeremy was more than a little concerned. Sure, he hadn’t reacted well to the wings at first, but none of them had. He’d been more supportive when Evan’s had burst through later that same day.

But Michael’s expression became very guarded for the rest of the day, and the next day, he was “sick” and couldn’t see Jeremy. And Evan was very good at shooing Jeremy away when he tried too hard to see him.

“Shouldn’t he eat something?” Jeremy asked.

Evan frowned. “Mikey told me that there’s not much he can stomach right now.”

“Crackers always work,” Jeremy mumbled to himself. Shaking his head, he tried again. “What about water? Maybe he’ll start feeling better with some fluids.”

“I… guess…” Evan seemed less sure. Conflicted, he looked at Gregory and then glanced at the closed door to his cousin’s room.

“I can get it. You keep helping Gregory,” Jeremy said quickly. He didn’t want Evan to change his mind.

Evan relented, nodding slightly. “Okay. Make sure to get him a big glass. And don’t be loud. And-“

“I know how it works when someone’s sick, thank you.” Jeremy set his Coke down and rushed back to the kitchen to grab a glass.

Evan had not been exaggerating. When Jeremy crept into the room with the glass of water, Michael was curled into a tight ball on the bed.

“Mike?” Jeremy whispered into the quiet room.

Michael groaned in response. He rolled over to face Jeremy, exposing the hair plastered to his face with sweat.

“I um.” Jeremy swallowed. He felt a little foolish now. Michael was just literally sick. He wasn’t mad at Jeremy or anything like that. “I brought you some water.”

Michael opened his eyes, feebly reaching for the glass.

“Are you strong enough to hold it on your own?” Jeremy asked.

Michael had to consider that for a moment. Then he shook his head.

“Here-“ Jeremy sat next to Michael on the bed, helping pull him into an upright position so he could drink the water.

Michael leaned heavily against Jeremy, eagerly drinking the water. Jeremy had to brace himself against the wall to support the extra weight. Then abruptly, Michael pulled away.

“J… Jeremy,” Michael whispered weakly. He gripped at Jeremy’s jacket, burying his face in Jeremy’s shirt. “I…”

“It’s okay, Mike-“

Michael seized in Jeremy’s arms, sobbing heavily. His hold got tighter and tighter as his body shuddered with pain. Jeremy tried to set the glass on the bedside table, but he barely had it on the edge and water soaked into the carpet as he pulled Michael the rest of the way into his lap. “I got you,” Jeremy said into Michael’s hair.

“It hurts,” Michael cried, still shaking.

“You’ll get through this,” Jeremy mumbled.

A tearing noise broke through the sound of Michael’s sobs, even as they intensified. “JEREMY!!!” Michael wailed.

“I have you, Mike. It’s okay. You’ll be okay.”

Dimly, Jeremy registered the large wings erupting from Michael’s back. Oh. Oh. This was happening now. Bloody feathers spread out, wrapping around Jeremy to return his comforting gesture.

Gradually, Michael’s crying ceased, and Jeremy was left holding an exhausted teenager with bloody wings. “I am sorry,” Michael whispered, pulling his hands back, the wings retracting slightly. “I did not mean to, uh…”

“It’s okay, Michael.” Jeremy tried to smile at him. He was determined not to squirm in discomfort from all the blood currently soaking into his jacket.

“I… should go shower,” Michael said awkwardly.

“Yeah…” Jeremy wriggled uncomfortably in his jacket.

“Sorry,” Michael said. “I can wash that if you want.”

“It’s not the biggest deal,” Jeremy said.

“It is if you go home wearing a jacket covered in blood,” Michael replied. “It’s only fair that I clean it, since that’s my blood.”

That wasn’t how Jeremy saw it, but he figured he wasn’t getting out of this. “Okay.”

Michael shifted carefully, putting his feet on the carpet. Almost instantly after taking his weight off the bed, he completely lost his balance. His wings flew out, trying to redistribute the weight, but Jeremy didn’t realize that as he caught Michael by the waist. Both of them tumbled off the bed, Jeremy hitting the carpet with a soft ‘oomph.’

“I am sorry. This was not my intent,” Michael said from above Jeremy.

“They take some getting used to, huh?” Jeremy replied, trying to ignore the heat rising to his face.

It hadn’t been much on the bed with Michael clinging to him like a lifeline. But on the floor with Michael on top of him, pinning him to the ground, Jeremy was suddenly aware of how close Michael was to him.

Michael smiled ruefully. “I don’t think I’m strong enough to walk on my own right now. I don’t know how I’m going to wash all this blood off by myself.”

“Maybe your uncle could help?”

“He’s probably back at the library again,” Michael mused as he crawled off Jeremy.

Evan wouldn’t be able to handle it, Jeremy knew that much. And he couldn’t ask for Gregory’s help without alerting Evan to the amount of blood that coated them both.

“Do you want me to help?” Jeremy asked, feeling the heat more intensely in his face. Please say no. He didn’t think he’d be able to handle it.

“Really?” Michael chewed his lip, considering it. “I would not want to be a bother… But if you are offering…”

Jeremy’s heart quickened at the prospect. “R-right.”

“Help me up?” Michael asked.

Jeremy pulled Michael to his feet, unprepared for the wings to wrap around him again. “Um.”

“Sorry. I don’t have much control over them yet,” Michael replied sheepishly.

“Do they want me to carry you?” Jeremy gauged the idea of carrying Michael to the bathroom. It wasn’t the worst idea he’d ever come up with.

“It’d probably be less awkward than walking there like this,” Michael agreed.

“So I’m just going to…” Jeremy twisted around in the space the wings allowed him. Michael hissed out a pained breath, but soon he was behind Jeremy. “How well can you jump?”

Pretty well, apparently. Jeremy barely needed to adjust for the weight of Michael on his own back, hands linked beneath Michael’s knees. “Okay. Let’s get you taken care of.”

“I am not a child, Jer,” Michael said wearily. Still, he pressed the side of his face into Jeremy’s hair. “I am sorry to be such a burden.”

“You’re not a burden, Mike. You’re my friend. I’m absolutely willing to help you out when you’re in need.”

“Mmmmm,” Michael sounded almost mournful. But he didn’t argue.

“Okay,” Jeremy said. “So, I’m thinking they might need a decent soaking, right? Birds like to be fully submerged when they clean their wings right?”

Michael blinked at him from where he sat on the toilet lid. “What are you even saying?”

“The blood.”

“It is not dried yet. Not completely anyway.”

“So what? You were planning to just wing this whole thing, weren’t you?” Jeremy shrugged off his jacket.

Michael snorted. “I was planning to shower, Jeremy. But I guess I was planning to wing it, considering how I have wings now.” His wings stretched as he spoke, emphasizing his point. “I just don’t have the strength to stand there long enough to wash them off.”

“I-“ Jeremy sputtered. Clearing his throat, he tried to skip over the accidental pun he’d made. “Just going to let the water do the work?”

“That’s the goal.” Michael frowned. “There’s just a few problems.”

“Such as?”

“My shirt isn’t going to come off the same way it went on this morning.”

“Are you particularly attached to that shirt?” Jeremy asked.

“Not really. Could try to just-“ Michael pulled at the collar of his shirt.

“I’ll go grab a pair of scissors,” Jeremy said as Michael pulled experimentally at his shirt again.

He had to be careful walking by the couch, noticing Evan curled up for a nap. Gregory was nowhere in sight.

Returning with the scissors, Jeremy nearly dropped them upon seeing Michael. “What happened? I was gone for two minutes!”

Michael’s shirt was hanging off his body in shreds. When Jeremy looked closer, he could see sharp claws on Michael’s hands. “I…” Michael shrugged sheepishly. “I thought I could tear the fabric and take it off myself.”

Jeremy’s mouth twitched, but he didn’t let himself laugh. “Okay. I don’t think you did a very good job of it though.”

“It seems as though I failed…”

“Here, let me just…” Jeremy carefully reached around Michael’s head, one knee resting between his legs. It felt strange to be cutting through Michael’s shirt, but as the fabric gave way, Michael seemed to relax a little more.

Jeremy recalled Gregory and Evan both sitting on the couch as Michael measured the shape they needed cut from their shirts for the wings. Perhaps Michael needed a few of those done as well. Something to keep in mind for later.

“Hey, why is there blood all over-“ Gregory’s eyes widened as he peered into the bathroom.

Michael straightened quickly. Jeremy pulled back, hiding the scissors. “Hello.” Michael waved awkwardly, his wings stiff and very clearly exposed.

“You… you have them too?” Gregory’s voice seemed so small.

“Yes, it appears as though we will match.”

Gregory swallowed harshly. “I can help. I know how to get blood stains out of fabric.”

“I would really appreciate it. Thank you, Superstar.” Michael beamed at Gregory, who flushed a deep red.

“It’s no big deal…”

“Not to you,” Jeremy said softly. “But it helps more than you realize. Thank you.”

Gregory opened his mouth to reply, but no words came out. He scratched his neck as his wings fluffed up, finally saying, “I’ll be quick. It probably won’t be good if Evan finds out.”

“It would be best if he did not know how messy the process is,” Michael agreed.

Gregory nodded, smoothing his hair down before hurrying out of the room.

Michael wadded the scraps of his shirt into a ball and tossed it to the floor. “Now that that’s sorted…”

Jeremy determinedly kept his eyes from wandering as he helped Michael stand. His friend leaned heavily against him for support as he attempted to undo his pants.

Jeremy belatedly realized that the only way this whole thing would work was if the shower ran over both of them. I’m going to be drenched, he thought sorrowfully as Michael muttered to himself in frustration.

“You could probably just sit while I wash the blood off,” Jeremy said when Michael finally stood there in his boxers. “Since it would be less exhausting for you.”

Michael blinked. “I suppose you are correct. I should have thought this through more.”

“It’s no big deal, man. You’re probably dealing with blood loss or whatever.”

“Still…”

“Hey, it’s fine. You spend all this time taking care of everybody. Maybe it’s time someone took care of you, right?”

Michael chewed his lip. “I suppose.”

“Okay. We’ll get you cleaned up in no time, Mike.” Jeremy said, smiling supportively. Michael tentatively smiled back.

As it turned out, it was a lot harder to clean up Michael than Jeremy initially thought. He kept twitching away, hissing out noises of pain at Jeremy’s touch.

Michael clenched his fists in his lap. “Okay. Clearly this is not the proper solution.”

“I can’t do this when it’s clearly hurting you, Mike. I just…” Jeremy leaned forward to rest his head against the back of Michael’s.

“This is nothing. I have endured much worse before.”

“That’s not as reassuring as you think it is.”

“Jeremy.” Michael said calmly, wringing water out of the washcloth. “I am sure it has become clear to you that things are not how they should be. The wings are only one part of it.”

“Yeah? What I’m hearing is that your father is abusive.” Jeremy wearily took the washcloth back, dabbing it gently against the space between Michael’s wings. At least like that it didn’t seem to hurt him.

“Well, not in the way you would think. Actually, I was thinking more of the comparison between growing limbs and losing organs. I think losing organs is still a more painful experience than this.”

“So you want me to just ignore your pain?” Jeremy asked, trying to decipher Michael’s meaning.

“I am saying I can handle it. I can be a man about this.”

No one is doubting that, Jeremy thought grimly to himself. “Maybe I can’t.” He tentatively rubbed at a clump of blood in the inner edge of Michael’s wing.

Immediately, it swung at him, throwing him against the sink. Pain flared throughout Jeremy’s entire body as he hit the floor. Faintly he registered that his face was bleeding.

“Jeremy?” Michael asked, twisting around. “Are you alright?”

“Nnnnngh,” Jeremy groaned. “I don’t think I broke anything.”

“I am so sorry. It appears that the wings are more sensitive than I thought.”

“No kidding.” Jeremy pressed his fingers to his cheek. He was lucky. The clawed joint of Michael’s wing had hit him just below the eye. Any higher, and he might’ve lost it completely. “Now what?”

“I suppose I should just sit under the water and hope for the best.”

“I think Gregory and Evan mentioned messages working out the soreness. Maybe I could at the very least-“

“I think we should avoid that for now,” Michael replied, his voice sounding stiff. “You have already been hurt once today.”

“Michael.” Jeremy tried to make his voice sound stern. “I knew the risks when I offered to help. So let me help.”

“Fine. Just do not do anything that will put you in danger again.”

“Don’t lie about how much it hurts next time,” Jeremy shot back. “Still gotta get all that blood out of your wings, you know.”

Michael clenched his jaw, but he only stared down into his hands. He couldn’t face Jeremy with the nasty cut on his face any longer.

Jeremy was lighter after that. He knew that even pressing a little too hard would make the wings spaz, and over the course of the next few hours, he succeeded with minimal interruptions.

Gregory popped in near the end to check on the progress. “Henry’s back. Do you want me to tell him about this?” He gestured at the entirety of the bathroom.

“I believe he should be informed. Please ensure that my brother does not come to investigate before we are done here.”

“And maybe grab him a dry set of clothes while you’re at it,” Jeremy said. As an afterthought, he looked at himself. “Maybe grab me something too, if you would.”

Gregory rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. How much does it hurt?”

“I suspect that I should be in more pain than I am,” Michael said, considering the question. “But Jeremy has done an excellent job of making sure the process is less than agonizing.”

“Uh, okay?” Gregory shot Jeremy a look.

“I can’t hardly touch him without the wings reacting,” Jeremy explained. “Nearly lost an eye the first time I did that.”

“So it’s bad.”

“It’s bad,” Jeremy agreed.

Gregory shot Michael a look loaded with concern, but he gave Jeremy a thumbs up. “I’ll ask Henry if he can get you guys some dry clothes. Maybe I’ll just imply that something else is going on in here if Evan asks.” He wiggled his eyebrows in a way that made Jeremy’s face burn.

“Gregory-“

But Gregory had already ducked out of the room, laughing quietly to himself. Jeremy sighed, preparing himself for the inevitable glares he’d get from Evan.

Michael sighed softly once Jeremy finally went to smooth out the wings. “That feels really nice.”

“Glad to hear it,” Jeremy said softly. “I think we got all the blood out.”

“Is it time to turn the water off then?” Michael asked, his eyes closing.

“I’d say so.” Thank goodness, Jeremy thought as he turned the dials back and pressed the tab down. “Now you need to dry off a bit.”

“Mmmmm….” Michael hummed to himself as Jeremy stepped into the tub with a towel and started rubbing Michael’s head with it.

Michael’s eyes fluttered open, and he smiled at Jeremy. “You really do like taking care of me, don’t you?”

Jeremy huffed out a sigh. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t, would I?”

“I thought you just stuck around to steal our Coca Cola.”

“That too. But I do enjoy your company, Mike.”

The smile broke into a full grin as Michael tugged the towel out of Jeremy’s hands. “That is wonderful news, Jeremy.”

Did he really not know? Jeremy wondered.

Before he had a chance to answer, Henry peered into the bathroom, assessing the pool of water on the floor. He raised a tired eyebrow as he observed the two boys in the bathtub. “I wasn’t inclined to believe Gregory before, but seeing it for myself…”

Jeremy’s face ignited with heat. “I was just helping clean blood from his wings. Nothing else happened, I swear.”

“I was referring to the fact that Michael grew wings. What did you think I meant?” Henry’s eyebrows scrunched, and Michael gave Jeremy a funny look.

“I thought Gregory might’ve said something else,” Jeremy replied, shaking his head. “Forget it.”

“Are you alright, Jeremy? You look a bit feverish…” A frown tugged at the corner of Michael’s mouth.

“I’m going to go grab some more towels. And you two will be wanting a dry set of clothes, won’t you?”

“Yeah.” Jeremy nodded quickly.

Henry hummed at them before walking back out of the room.

“I am grateful for both you and Gregory,” Michael said, using the towel to dry the rest of his body. He slowly rose to his feet, finally able to stand on his own.

Jeremy determinedly did not stare. Instead, he wrung water from his hair.

“I would offer you the towel, but I believe it is too wet to be any real help. Seeing as your clothes are also drenched, the best course of action is to wait for Henry to return.”

Jeremy smiled weakly. “Yeah, that’s true.”

Michael stepped out of the tub, hanging the towel back on the rack after he went. Jeremy could admit that the wings looked pretty good on Mike. He’d been weary of it when he’d first seen the wings on Gregory, and he knew that Gregory was defensive about it now. But maybe seeing him help Michael would help.

“Do you need a bandage for your face?” Michael asked, making eye contact with Jeremy through the mirror above the sink.

“Oh, I uh.” Jeremy blinked at him. “It doesn’t… It’s fine.”

“Are you sure?” Michael’s mouth twitched. “I understand that me being like this must be unpleasant for you, but that does not mean you do not need assistance with that cut.”

Being like this? Was Michael phrasing things like that on purpose? Was he talking about the fact that he was in his boxers or the fact that he had wings? Jeremy crossed his arms before remembering that his shirt was soaked. He uncrossed them and simply said, “There is no problem. I just don’t need a Band-Aid.”

Michael walked back over, and Jeremy tried to take a step back before remembering he was standing in a bathtub. Trapped, Jeremy stood stiffly as Michael ran a thumb over his scratch. Don’t flinch, he told himself, but it still stung. The cut was pretty deep.

“You likely do need a bandage, despite your claim otherwise,” Michael replied. “I can help, if you need assistance.”

Michael gently wiped blood from Jeremy’s face and went in search of medical supplies. It stung when he cleaned the wound, but Jeremy found himself too fascinated by Michael’s cautious care to really notice. The tiniest furrow in Michael’s eyebrows appeared when he put the bandage on Jeremy’s face, and his hands lingered on Jeremy’s jaw for just a moment too long.

He almost seemed sad when he stepped back from Jeremy. “All better. See?” Michael smiled so quickly Jeremy wondered if he’d imagined the pain in Michael’s eyes.

“Y… yeah. Um. Thanks.” Jeremy touched the bandage, surprised by how big it was. “I didn’t realize the scratch was that big.”

“I still feel terrible for doing that to you. Is there any way I can make it up to you?” Michael asked.

Unable to come up with anything to say other than a request for Michael to kiss him, Jeremy shook his head and turned his attention to Michael’s wings. “Do they still hurt?”

“Not as much as they did,” Michael flexed them experimentally. Jeremy smiled faintly, recalling that Gregory was having immense difficulty controlling his own wings. Perhaps the size made it easier.

Michael made a face. “It appears that moving them still hurts, however.”

“Evan mentioned something about messaging the muscles earlier. He was doing it for Gregory.”

Michael brightened. “I suppose I shall have to ask for Evan’s help with that endeavor then. Thank you for the reminder.”

I could do it for you, Jeremy thought desperately. He didn’t want to just have to leave after everything. This was the most time he’d spent with Michael before, and the guy was just so chill about everything. But being in the same space as him, watching him interact with his brother and Gregory made him want to stay so much longer. Michael Afton was the most compassionate person Jeremy had ever met, and he wanted to be able to help the man who tried so hard to help everyone else.

It didn’t help that Jeremy was also hopelessly in love with him.

As Jeremy opened his mouth to speak, Henry returned with the changes of clothes. Michael turned his attention away from Jeremy to thank Henry and apologize for the water all over the floor, and Jeremy was left to awkwardly collect the pile of bloody clothes on the floor to offer them to Henry.

Henry stared at the rags for a moment, his face paling significantly. “These were Michael’s clothes?”

“Yes.” Michael was separating the clothes to split between himself and Jeremy, and he was hardly focused on Henry. “I could not find a way to safely remove my shirt without causing more pain, so Jeremy helped me cut it off. I am afraid blood does not come out of denim very easily, so my jeans are also a lost cause.”

Brightening, Michael put a bundle of clothing into Jeremy’s arms. “You can change in Charlie’s old room.”

“Why can’t you both change in here?” Henry asked, sounding confused.

Pressure built in Jeremy’s throat as he tried to answer that question. It wasn’t that he was ashamed of himself. Not by any measure at all. He just knew it was dangerous, what he was. People didn’t exactly approve of people like him, after all. Especially not here.

Michael gave Henry a scathing look as tears built up behind Jeremy’s eyes. “Maybe we don’t want to change in the same room.”

Henry blinked in surprise, but he glanced between the two boys for a moment before making his exit. Michael patted Jeremy’s shoulder. “I can go to Charlie’s room instead, if you would prefer to change in here.”

Jeremy still couldn’t speak, so he just nodded. The gentle way Michael nodded back at him filled his body with a strange warmth. A few moments later, Michael was gone, and Jeremy could finally change out of the sopping wet layers he’d been in this whole time.

Half-way through changing, Jeremy noticed that most of the clothes were baggy and easy to layer over each other. There were almost too many options. A jolt ran through him when he considered that Michael had sorted through the clothes. Either Michael was very particular, or he knew.

Hurriedly, Jeremy finished changing and practically ran to the bedroom where Michael said he’d be changing. He basically flung the door open to a startled Mike, who had jeans on but no shirt. “Is something wrong?” Michael asked.

His wings and hair fluffed up, like he’d been expecting a threat, but his expression was one of concern. Jeremy knew he was shaking, knew he wouldn’t be able to speak for a moment, but he stood there and just stared. Why did Michael have to be adorable in everything he did? The way his mouth curled into a frown made half of his mouth seem to vanish, like he was biting on it constantly distracted Jeremy from what he wanted to say.

He let his eyes wander over Michael’s bare torso as he tried to find the words to speak. The worst of his secrets was surely out already, and if Michael figured out his feelings, it would be less painful than him knowing the other secret.

Fascination over the jagged scar across Michael’s chest sprouted in his heart. Jeremy had seen it before, of course. He’d seen it in the bathroom, but he’d been trying not to stare before.

“Jeremy?” Michael looked worried now. “Are you alright?”

Maybe Michael didn’t know. Maybe he just hadn’t grabbed a shirt at all, since they had to be cut specifically for the wings anyway. Jeremy was probably just overreacting. And even if he wasn’t, it seemed that Michael wasn’t going to bring it up. “Uhmm. I just… wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Michael relaxed. “I’m quite alright, Jeremy. I’m not as weak as I was before. The shower certainly helped.”

“You’re um. You’re very fluffy right now.”

“Am I?” Michael ran a hand through his hair, feeling where it stuck up all over the place. “Oh.”

“Yeah.” Jeremy cleared his throat awkwardly. “Thanks for talking to Henry back there.”

“It was nothing.” Michael blinked at him, wings twitching. “Gregory did a good job cleaning up.” He gestured at the carpet and the bed.

The bed was made very neatly, corners tucked so much better than Jeremy could do on a good day. There were only faint hints that someone had been bleeding there, and they were only visible because Jeremy was looking for them. “Yeah. He certainly did.”

A fond smile crossed Michael’s face at that. “He’s so sweet.”

Jeremy didn’t really believe that, but he nodded anyway. He didn’t want Michael to stop smiling for anything. It was so much better than his frown in every possible way.

“We should… I um. I think we should probably head back to the living room,” Jeremy said awkwardly.

“Right, yes. I suppose it is almost time for you to head home too.” Michael blinked, like he was shaking himself out of a daydream. “Or maybe you could stay for supper?”

Jeremy smiled. “I would love that.”

Evan was awestruck when he saw his brother’s wings. “They’re so big!”

“Soft too,” Jeremy said, trying to encourage Evan’s excitement.

Gregory made a noise in the back of his throat before saying, “You would know, wouldn’t you?”

Jeremy stared at him, mouth opening and closing without words coming out.

“No softer than yours, I’m sure,” Michael said, trying to keep the peace. There wasn’t even a hint of a blush on his face at Gregory’s words. Were the jokes just going over his head? Maybe Jeremy was reading too much into it.

Shaking his head, Jeremy plopped down on the couch beside Gregory. “What happened to your face?” Gregory asked quietly.

“I wasn’t careful enough,” Jeremy answered, glancing at the two brothers as they talked about Michael’s new wings. “And Mike’s wings pack quite the punch.”

“Oh.” Gregory’s eyes widened with understanding. “That could’ve been bad.”

“You’re telling me, kid.” Jeremy shook his head, taking a sip from his can of Coke. “What were you and Evan up to today?”

“Videogames mostly,” Gregory replied. “Although everything here is so old.”

“Old?” Jeremy wrinkled his nose. “Nah, my parents are worse. You’re probably just picky. A bunch of this stuff is newer than anything my family could afford.”

“Your motorcycle is cool though.”

Jeremy smiled. “It is pretty cool.”

“Can you take me on it sometime?”

The smile faltered slightly. “Uh, I don’t know.”

“C’mon, please? All the stuff here is pretty boring, and I know Evan tries to be fun, but you can only play the same game for so long before it’s lame. And I don’t want to have to tell him it’s lame. It’s awful when he cries.”

Jeremy didn’t know what to make of that. “Maybe we could play a board game or something.”

“I wanna go on your bike sometime.” Gregory stuck out his chin stubbornly. “Or I’m going to tell Mike you have the biggest crush on him and-“

“Okay, okay! I get it. But you’ll have to wear a helmet,” Jeremy said, looking away and tugging at his shirt. “And long pants. Just in case.”

“Okay, Dad.” Gregory rolled his eyes.

“Well, you’re the one who said it’s awful when Evan cries,” Jeremy shot back. “And I’ve already seen how Mike cries, and I don’t want to see that again. No thanks.”

Gregory flinched at that. “I…”

“Not to frighten you, but it can be dangerous.” Jeremy sighed. “There’s only so much you can be safe. Not to quote my mom, but ‘I’d rather you be late than dead.’ It’s just that kind of thing.”

Seeing Gregory’s expression, he softened. “I’m a firm believer in the fact that both of us are going to get lectured by Michael when he finds out. So, when he tries, we’re going to tell him that I already told you all the risks and you still wanted to do it. Unless I’ve changed your mind.”

“No, haven’t changed my mind.” Gregory scooted closer to Jeremy. “I bet I’d survive a crash better than you.”

“No way,” Jeremy laughed. “With the way you’re built? No offense, but you’d be a splatter on the cement.”

“Rude.” Gregory scoffed. Not subtly at all, he tried to steal Jeremy’s Coke from his hand.

Amused, Jeremy let him. Gregory immediately started downing what was left in the can. At that moment, Michael glanced over and gasped. “Gregory! Is that Coke? Are you encouraging this, Jeremy?”

“He took the can out of my hand. I didn’t do anything,” Jeremy smiled cheekily. “Not my fault he’s so fast.”

“Mmmmm,” Gregory squinted skeptically at the can. “This is Coke?”

“Yeah?” Jeremy looked confused. “Why? Does it taste weird to you or something?”

“It’s better than I remember.”

Michael sighed, removing the can from Gregory’s hands. “That is because Coca-Cola has different flavoring in it than you remember.”

“Are you talking about the whole cocaine in Coke thing? Because I thought that was a myth.”

Michael shot Jeremy an exasperated look. “That is not what I am talking about. Anyway, Gregory does not need caffeine in his system at this time of day. He won’t get any sleep at this rate.”

“Whoops?” Jeremy held his hands up in surrender. “Look I-“

“It does not matter.” Michael shot Gregory a meaningful look. “So long as he doesn’t keep Evan up with his extra energy, it should be fine.”

Evan peered at them all from behind the sofa. “How did he even take it from you? I thought you kept a tight grip on those at all times.”

“Caught me by surprise?” Jeremy shifted his weight as Michael gave him a skeptical look. “He’s faster than he looks, I swear.”

Evan snorted, climbing over the back of the sofa, much to Michael’s despair as he said, “Well, that gives him a one-up in physical games I guess.”

“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean? I totally crush at Fazblock!” Gregory crossed his arms. “I had more blocks than you did.”

“Gregory, you’re supposed to get rid of the blocks, not keep them on the screen.” Evan shook his head despairingly. “I would’ve explained the rules if you’d asked-“

“It was different than what I’m used to, okay?” Gregory rolled his eyes. “I could totally beat you at Fazzy Kart.”

“I don’t even know what that is,” Evan replied. “I still think you made it up.”

“Did not.”

“Did too.”

“Did not.”

“Did too!”

“Okay, that is enough.” Michael shook his head, smiling faintly. “Gregory did not make it up. Fazzy Kart just has not come out yet.” He ruffled Evan’s hair before walking away with the empty Coke can. “And I have something for you two to do when I get back!”

“A task?” Gregory asked.

“A task.” Evan snorted. “Ah yes, my brother typically assigns me tasks. No, Gregory. He’s sending us to do chores or something. Usually he’s more mean about it though.”

“No one understands my jokes.” Gregory’s wing twitched irritably.

“Doesn’t matter,” Jeremy replied. “He still laughed, even if he didn’t get it. Be nonsensical! Nobody cares as long as you’re funny.”

“That’s a terrible line of logic. I refuse to believe that people willingly follow your example,” Michael said, returning with a sheet of paper. “Evan, Gregory, I am trusting you two to find everything on this list and bring it back here.”

“We don’t have money,” Gregory said, but he still took the list from Michael’s hands. “And aren’t we supposed to stay inside until we figure out what to do about our wings? And wait, is it safe to-“

“You worry too much, Gregory. We can just ask Uncle Henry for help.” Evan peered at the grocery list. “What are you making, Mikey? This looks like spaghetti sauce, but you don’t use half this stuff normally.”

“Wait and see,” Michael said cryptically. His own wings twitched as he spoke, even seeming a tiny bit ruffled.

“With the overabundance of clothes Henry seems to have, maybe he has jackets you can just throw on over the wings or something,” Jeremy said, slowly rising from the couch as Gregory and Evan stood to examine the list closer.

“We can handle this,” Evan said with full confidence. “And we’ll try to be fast so you can get started sooner.”

“Thank you, Evan.” There was a deeper tone of relief in Michael’s voice at that. “My heroes.”

Jeremy smiled wearily at them all. “I should probably get going.” It felt like intruding to stay this long. Sure, they all tried to include him, but Michael probably had other things he planned to do while Evan and Gregory were gone. Perhaps he needed to talk to his uncle more or something. Regardless, Jeremy had overstayed his welcome.

“I thought you said you could stay for supper.” Michael sounded wounded. “Are you feeling alright? Do you need to lie down?”

He pressed his hand against Jeremy’s forehead. “You don’t seem to have a fever.”

“I’m fine, Michael. I just don’t want to overstay my welcome, you know?” Jeremy ducked away from Michael’s hand and kept his gaze on the carpet. “Especially if you’re all going to be busy.”

“I won’t be busy until they get back,” Michael replied as Gregory tugged on Evan’s shirt to lead him away. “And even then, I won’t be too busy to talk. You can sit with me in the kitchen while I cook.”

“Yeah but…” Jeremy hesitated, combing a hand through his hair. “Look, I just don’t want to be in the way.”

“You won’t be,” Michael insisted. He sat down on the sofa where Gregory had been sitting before. Patting the cushion next to him, he waited for Jeremy to sit back down.

When Jeremy sat down, Michael gestured for him to scoot closer. “What are you doing?” Jeremy asked nervously.

“Your hair is a mess,” Michael replied. “I’m going to fix it for you.”

“What do you mean?” Jeremy frowned, patting his hair self-consciously.

“It’s all tangled. That’s going to be a nightmare to brush out tomorrow if you don’t take care of it tonight.”

“Oh.” Jeremy looked away. “It shouldn’t be your responsibility-“

“My wings shouldn’t have been yours,” Michael countered. “Let me do a nice thing for you. Please.”

“I helped with your wings because I wanted to spend time with you. Not because it was a burden, Mike.”

“This isn’t a burden to me either. Let me help. Maybe I want to spend more time with you too.”

Jeremy didn’t have a counter to that, so he reluctantly sighed. “Just… be gentle on it, okay?”

“Of course.” He blinked, seemingly surprised that Jeremy gave in so easily. “I do need to go grab a brush and a comb.”

“Naturally.” Jeremy shifted uncomfortably on the sofa as Michael got up.

What was he even supposed to say to Michael? He hadn’t expected to get this far, and now faced with the opportunity to have a casual conversation with him, Jeremy panicked.

When Michael got back, the hair brush he carried had long strands of dark brown hair in it, and both the brush and the comb were shining with water. “I hope you don’t mind,” Michael said awkwardly. “But I know that hair gets really, really tangled, so I just wanted to make sure I could get the tangles out without hurting you.”

Oh. That was… surprisingly considerate. “And the water is supposed to fix tangles?”

“Better than a dry brush.”

Jeremy just stared. The most he’d been able to do with his hair was to throw it into the world’s worst ponytail when he needed it out of his face. All this talk of the more effective way to brush through his hair without making it hurt stirred something in his chest. There was nothing Michael would do that could possibly hurt more than the way he was currently doing his hair.

Michael sat back down and got to work. It was strange. Jeremy hadn’t had anyone brush his hair in a long time. His mother had been too busy with work to even notice that he needed help with his hair. Or anything really.

“You have really thick hair,” Michael mused softly.

“Yeah. Makes it a real pain sometimes,” Jeremy replied.

Michael was so gentle with it, apologizing softly when the brush scraped his ear or a snag was too rough. Eventually, though, he set the brush aside and started dividing his hair.

“What are you doing?”

“Helping you with your hair,” Michael replied as he started braiding it. “I assume you don’t have a hair brush for yourself, or maybe you just don’t have much time to do your hair every day. But at the very least, braiding it back at night prevents most tangles from getting worse.”

“How do you know so much about this stuff, dude?” Jeremy wondered. “Like, you know more about this than I do.”

“I…” Michael hesitated. “Evan’s not my only sibling. I had a sister. Elizabeth. Her hair was more of a nightmare than this.”

“Oh.” Jeremy fidgeted. He didn’t know what to do with that information.

“And, there!” Michael twisted a ponytail into the end of Jeremy’s hair. “Less problems for later, see?”

“Yeah.” Jeremy touched a hand to the braid, smiling softly. “Thanks, man.”

“It’s nothing.”

“But I say it is something. Come here, Mike.”

Michael’s wings fluffed up ever so slightly, but he did as Jeremy asked, unprepared for the tackle-hug Jeremy gave him. He gasped in alarm as they ended up on the floor, but when he looked up at Jeremy, it was with what Jeremy could only describe as adoration. Then he was suddenly pressed completely up against Michael as his wings wrapped around them both.

Of course, that was also the moment Evan and Gregory came back from their shopping trip with the supplies Michael had asked for. Letting Jeremy up, Michael immediately accepted the groceries from Evan and went straight to the kitchen. Gregory and Evan were left staring at Jeremy, who was sitting with a ridiculous grin on his face.

“Might need some help preparing this!” Michael called.

Before any of them could move toward the door, however, Henry walked by to go help Michael. Which left Jeremy to get teased by the two younger boys.

“What was that about?” Evan asked, picking a long blue feather out of Jeremy’s hair.

“What were you doing on the floor?” Gregory asked.

“Mike did my hair,” Jeremy replied, gesturing at the hairbrush that now had long strands of gold intertwined with the brown.

Evan looked thoughtful as he fiddled with the feather. “I didn’t know Mikey knew how to do hair.”

“Didn’t you tell me you had a sister?” Gregory asked, picking a smaller, brown feather from Jeremy’s shirt. “He could’ve done her hair once or twice.”

“Maybe…” Evan didn’t sound very sure. “Mikey wasn’t… I don’t know. Maybe he did. I never knew, though.”

“He did mention it when I asked…” Jeremy said, suddenly embarrassed to know more than Evan.

Evan fiddled with the feather more. “He seems to like you a lot.”

“Mike?” Jeremy asked, even more embarrassed now.

“Yeah. He smiles when he talks to you.”

“Except that one day,” Gregory interrupted. “He came inside and cried.”

“That was something else, I think,” Evan responded. “I think the Nightmares finally got to him.”

“So I take it Mike doesn’t usually talk about his issues then?”

“Not usually.” Evan squirmed, his wings puffing up. “Can we talk about something else?”

“Yeah sure,” Jeremy shook his head and finally got off the floor. “Do you want to try playing Kings in the Corner again?”

“Ugh, that’s so boring,” Gregory replied, but Evan was already rushing off to get the cards.

“I need a second. I’ll be right back,” Jeremy said, slipping into the kitchen to grab another can of Coke.

Michael glanced over from where he was cutting an onion and just sighed. “Jeremy-“

“I know, I know. It’s bad for me or whatever. But I need it, okay?” Jeremy took a long swig from the can. “Better than some habits.”

“Still…”

“It’s fine dude. Cut your onion or whatever.”

Henry said something that Jeremy didn’t catch as he rushed back to the living room. “Okay, are we ready to start?”

“This game is stupid,” Gregory grumbled. He was holding his seven cards, and Evan had already laid out the board.

“I dealt, so Gregory goes first,” Evan replied, ignoring Gregory’s comment.

“Lucky,” Jeremy said, eyeing the board.

“I don’t even know how to play,” Gregory complained. “This game is for old people.”

“I guess we’re old then.” Jeremy’s eyes twinkled. “You have to play a card from your hand onto one of those four cards.” He pointed at the two of diamonds, the king of spades, the four of diamonds, and the seven of diamonds respectively. “You want it to be a lower rank, or less points than the card on the stack. And it’s gotta be the opposite color.”

“Oh.” Gregory stared at his hand for a moment.

“You gotta tell him about the kings, Jeremy.” Evan shook his head. “If there’s a king, you can move it into the spaces between the four other cards, and put a new foundation card down.”

“Huh.” Gregory frowned. “This is too confusing.”

“It really isn’t,” Jeremy laughed, taking another sip from his Coke. “If you really want, you can add your cards back to the foundation pile and watch me and Evan play a game.”

“I’m just going to do that.” Gregory stuck his cards back in the bigger stack.

“Suits don’t matter,” Evan said helpfully. “Only color does.”

Jeremy set off to move the king, and the game begun. Evan went out on his first turn.

“Okay, that was a bad example,” Evan said with a grin.

“You didn’t shuffle very well,” Jeremy said accusingly.  “That was- arghhh. We’re playing another game so Gregory can actually see how the game works.”

“Are we doing points?” Evan said innocently.

“We will once Gregory joins in,” Jeremy replied, collecting the cards from the board. “These are warm-up rounds.”

“Riiiiight,” Gregory replied with an amused snort. “You just got destroyed.”

“Thank you for the obvious and accurate commentary, Gregory.” Jeremy rolled his eyes.

When he flipped the four cards over, three of them were kings. Jeremy let out an indignant noise as Gregory burst out laughing and Evan grinned at the board. Just like that, he was down to one card. Jeremy scowled at his own cards as it became his turn.

“All four kings on the board in the first turn,” he grumbled.

“Now who’s bad at shuffling?” Evan replied, watching Jeremy’s hand drop to three cards.

“Oh, shut up.”

Evan snickered as it became his turn. “I almost wonder if you were trying to let me win.” He took the ace of diamonds and placed it on the two of clubs that Jeremy had missed during his turn. “Do you have the hang of it yet, Gregory? We may need a third player or this are going to be some very quick games.”

“Ha ha.” Jeremy said as Evan gathered up the cards again. “I’m just used to people who aren’t paying attention nearly as much as you do.”

“I’m just playing the game,” Evan said with a cheeky grin. “You had a six of spades in your hand? You could’ve played that on the seven-“

“I don’t want to hear it!” Jeremy sighed, exaggerating his grief as he drank from his can. “You have eyes like a hawk.”

Evan just hummed at that, his eyes twinkling as he shuffled the cards again. “What do you say, Gregory? Want to try and give it another shot?”

“Sure. Can’t be any worse than Jeremy, right?”

“Alright, I get it.” Jeremy shook his head. “I guess this game isn’t as awful as you want to claim it is, huh?”

“We’ll see.”

Evan pulled out a baggy filled with little red chips and shook it for a moment. “I didn’t have a chance to grab paper, so we can just play with chips, right?”

“Let’s give Gregory one trial run first,” Jeremy said as Gregory stared blankly at the chip bag. “Let him get a feel for the game.”

Gregory’s first round went okay. He managed to play half his cards in the first go, but he failed to notice that he could’ve moved the king to the corner right away, and Jeremy took advantage of that. Humming to himself, Jeremy quickly went through his turn and waited for Evan.

“That is absurd,” Gregory said, watching Evan put down cards and move piles around rapidly. “There’s no way you’re not cheating.”

“It’s all natural, Gregory,” Evan said cheerfully. “You’re just mad because I’m better at games than you are.”

“Grrrrrr….” Gregory scowled as Evan tapped his own card against the table. He put down his one card and waited for Jeremy to go.

Adding another person really did slow down the game a lot, Jeremy thought to himself. This was the first round someone had actually had to draw a card. Evan hummed, but he also needed to draw a card. Unlike Jeremy, however, Evan couldn’t play his. Finally, the game was even again.

Gregory scowled at his cards. “What do I do if I can’t play?”

“Draw,” Jeremy said. “We’ve both done it.”

Grumbling, Gregory drew a card. He brightened as he realized he could play it, and then it was Jeremy’s turn. Jeremy sighed in relief as he was able to play a card on Gregory’s queen, and then move a ten on top of that. Moment of truth, he thought to himself as Evan studied his hand. Michael’s brother shook his head and drew another card. And promptly played it.

Gregory and Jeremy both groaned at that. “See, but now things get interesting,” Evan said cheerfully. “We’ve all been drawing cards and actually have to pay attention to the board.”

“Don’t you always have to pay attention to the board?” Gregory asked as he drew another card. “Ugh.”

“Depends on how close,” Jeremy said smugly, laying down his one card. “I win this round.”

Evan sighed wearily, but he said nothing as Jeremy collected the cards to shove them at Gregory. “Your turn to shuffle.”

Gregory pushed the cards back at Jeremy. “I don’t know how.”

“I guess I can do it for you. But you’re still dealing, alright? Seven cards to each of us.”

Gregory nodded as Jeremy shuffled, and Evan quickly explained how chips worked. Everyone put one chip in at the beginning. Then, when you drew a card, you’d put another chip in. Each card at the end of the game still in your hand was another chip, except for kings. Kings were ten chips.

They all put one chip in the middle as Gregory passed out cards.

“Ready for your first real round, Gregory?” Jeremy asked, looking over his cards.

Gregory huffed, but he nodded anyway. “This is still dumb.”

“What if we made it a bit more fun?” Evan asked. “I’ll put in this feather.” He held up the blue feather he’d picked out of Jeremy’s hair.

“We’re playing for feathers?” Gregory asked. “But we both have feathers.”

“Not just any feathers. Michael’s feathers. I know him better than you do, trust me. He wouldn’t just give those away.”

Gregory considered it for a moment as Jeremy bit his lip. It seemed plenty easy to get feathers in his opinion. Michael shed two of them while Jeremy hugged him before. “Deal. I’ll put in this one.”

Gregory set the brown feather on top of the three chips. Evan did the same with the blue feather. Both of them glanced at Jeremy expectantly.

“I don’t have any. You both took those from me in the first place.” Jeremy rolled his eyes. The feathers were cool, though.

He kind of wished he had some of his own, maybe to braid through his hair or something. But that required winning this game. And since Evan was really good at Kings in the Corner, and also used all the chips in the box, it was really unlikely that he’d win them at the end.

“How about…” Jeremy put twenty more chips in the pot. “I know it doesn’t balance out at all, but you two seem to really want those feathers.”

Evan grinned, and so, the game began.

Gregory surprised them all by nearly going out in his first turn, but Evan still won the first game. They played in relative silence, too busy concentrating to hold a proper conversation. Evan crushed them in the first few rounds, but Gregory eventually got a win when Evan had 6 cards in his hand, resulting in a somewhat decent counter-balance.

It did nothing for Jeremy though. He looked nervously at his dwindling pile of chips every time the game ended and knew it was very unlikely that he’d win. It wasn’t impossible, sure, but it was incredibly unlikely.

“This is eight, Gregory,” Evan said absently, after Jeremy had already played his first turn. “We can play it, but you should pay better attention.”

Jeremy bit his lip at that. He was losing really bad. He really needed a win, and he needed one where the other two were struggling. Accidentally starting a round on eight cards was not a great way to start that.

“How did you even notice that?” Gregory asked.

“Eight feels thicker than seven.”

“How much do you play cards? Jeez,” Jeremy asked as it became Gregory’s turn.

“Enough,” Evan said with an amused smile. “I usually play alone.”

“This doesn’t feel like a game you can play alone,” Gregory muttered.

“You can. It’s just not as fun. But I don’t play this,” Evan said as Jeremy had to draw yet again. “I play Solitare.”

“Right, silly me.” Gregory shook his head. “Dude, how are you losing the game you suggested?”

“It takes a lot of luck, Gregory.” Jeremy sighed, having emptied his can of Coke long ago. “I’ve already accepted my fate. Now it’s just a matter of wondering who wins overall.”

They all fell quiet again as they settled back into their concentration. A few tense rounds went by as they all drew cards. When Evan finally played a card, Jeremy breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe he’d last another round.

Or… maybe not. It was a close thing, that balance between drawing and playing. “Are we going to go through the whole deck?” Gregory eventually wondered.

“Maybe,” Jeremy replied wearily.

The pot was massive at this point. Evan’s brow was continuously furrowed, and even his wings were stiff with concentration. There’s no strategy that trumps the good cards being at the bottom of the deck, Jeremy thought to himself with grim amusement.

“Ha!” Gregory shouted his delight as he finally laid his last card.

Jeremy sighed sorrowfully as he glanced at his four chips. He would only have two left for another game after this. If only it had been Jeremy who’d drawn the card to end the game.

“I don’t even remember who shuffled that one,” Jeremy said as Gregory gathered the pot.

“It was Gregory. He started us with eight cards,” Evan replied. “You shuffle next.”

“I’m not going to make it through this game,” Jeremy muttered.

“Then we’ll just play it out, and you can be done after,” Evan shrugged. “Who knows, maybe you’ll win?”

“For every draw you have that you can’t play, I’ll put in a chip,” Gregory offered as Jeremy put his last chip in the pot. “It’ll keep things fair.”

“I’m sure,” Jeremy muttered.

“Awww, you are a grumpy old man. Evan look! He’s so grumpy.”

Jeremy rolled his eyes. “Thanks.”

Evan put his last card down, and Jeremy shook his head. “I’m out. Good luck, Gregory.”

He wondered what Michael and Henry were up to in the kitchen. It had been two hours of this, after all. Surely preparing a meal wouldn’t take that long, especially since Evan implied Michael was making spaghetti.

“Okay, I gotta know. What spaghetti takes three hours to make?” Jeremy said, sitting down at the kitchen table with Henry.

“It’s not the spaghetti that takes so long,” Michael replied from the stove. “It’s the sauce.”

“But why?”

“The flavor has to soak in from the leaves.” Michael shrugged, moving to sit down with them. “What were you playing in there?”

“Cards.” Jeremy shrugged. “Gregory said it was for old people.”

“Then he must have never played cards before,” Henry commented.

“Maybe it’s his age,” Michael suggested.

“Nah. Your brother got really into it. He’s been beating both of us.”

“THAT’S SO STUPID!!!” Gregory shouted from the other room.

Evan laughed and said something in response, as they all glanced toward the hallway.

“No way,” Gregory said, his voice still projecting from the other room. “That’s so stupid!”

“I think the sauce is about done,” Michael said, rising from his seat again. “I should probably begin on the actual spaghetti.”

“I appreciate you deciding to cook for us, Michael,” Henry said. “And not that I’m complaining about your food, but this seems more complicated than some of the other stuff you’ve made.”

Michael just blinked at him, filling a pot with water. “It’s just spaghetti.”

Gregory and Evan walked into the kitchen and sat down at the table. “It smells great in here,” Evan said.

Michael glanced at his brother and at Gregory for a moment. “Who won?”

“Evan,” Gregory grumbled crossing his arms. “But he cheats.”

“I do not! Withholding cards on my turn is within the rules of the game. Just because it means you have to draw more doesn’t mean it’s cheating!” Evan argued.

“He’s right, Gregory. If he’s withholding cards, it’s still a risk to him since you can easily draw a card at any moment and win the game yourself. There’s a reason it’s ten chips if you’re holding a king at the end of the game.”

“Hmph,” Gregory scowled.

“Jeremy, do you need a new bandage for your face?” Henry asked as Gregory and Evan glared at each other from across the table.

“What? Oh, I’m sure it’s fine.” Jeremy hadn’t realized that the edge of his bandage was peeling off.

“We’ll get that taken care of later,” Henry said. “Were you planning on staying over tonight?”

“I…” Jeremy glanced around the room. “I don’t know.”

“If you decide to stay, let me know so I can tell your parents,” Henry replied, seemingly satisfied. “And would you like another can of Coca-Cola?”

“Yes please.”

“Don’t encourage his addiction, Henry.” Michael crossed his arms as he leaned against the counter.

Jeremy responded by sticking his tongue out at Michael. Michael shook his head and rolled his eyes, but Jeremy saw a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Can I have one too?” Gregory asked.

“Absolutely not,” Michael replied. His wings twitched slightly. “You’re done with caffeine for the rest of the night. If you’re this loud after half a can, I shudder to think of what would happen if you got a full can of Coke.”

“You’re not my mom,” Gregory grumbled.

Jeremy’s mouth twitched. “He tries to act like it though, doesn’t he?”

Michael made an indignant noise as Gregory burst out laughing. Evan giggled too, adding, “Mama bird Mike.”

All three of them broke into bad laughing fits at that one. Henry and Michael just exchanged an exasperated look as Michael stirred the spaghetti. “I can act like it if you really want me to,” Michael eventually said. “But I don’t think you’d like the response, seeing as you two are baby birds in this analogy.”

“What do you mean?” Gregory asked, bewildered.

“I think what he’s getting at,” Jeremy said, amusement glinting in his eye, “is that mother birds regurgitate food into their chicks mouths.”

“Ewwwww,” Gregory gagged.

Evan snorted. “Mikey wouldn’t do that.”

“Wouldn’t I?” Michael raised an eyebrow. “I’ve certainly done worse.”

Evan froze at that. He seemed to be considering Michael’s point. “He totally would…” Evan sounded horrified.

“And with that terrible mental image, it seems that the spaghetti is done!” Henry said, putting a can of Coke in front of Jeremy before going to fetch everyone plates.

“I just need to strain the noodles, and we’re all set,” Michael said. “Could you grab the strainer please?”

Henry nodded and retrieved the strainer. Evan hummed to himself as he fiddled with the two feathers he’d won in the card game. Gregory said nothing, but Jeremy could tell it he was still bitter from his loss. Surely Michael wouldn’t be unwilling to give up feathers if they asked, Jeremy thought to himself. Maybe he’d be uncomfortable with the idea, but if Gregory said how much he really wanted them, Jeremy was sure Michael would give in eventually.

“It’s going to be hot.” Michael warned, carrying the pot of spaghetti to the table.

Henry quickly placed a potholder beneath it, and Michael went back to retrieve the sauce for the spaghetti. “Do you want to get cups out, Evan?”

Evan nodded and got up from his spot. “Gregory, you can get the plates.”

The whole group cycled around the kitchen like a little family, and Jeremy felt a little self-conscious about his place in everything, so he went and grabbed forks for everyone. It was the least he could do.

Michael dished out the food, putting just enough sauce on their spaghetti that they could avoid it if they wanted to. All of them were a little skeptical of the meal, but they all trusted that Michael knew what he was doing. Gregory and Evan both seemed startled by the taste, but Henry simply raised an eyebrow as he took a bite. Michael didn’t seem particularly concerned about their reaction, though.

He was too busy observing Jeremy when he tried it.

It was… spicier than he expected. Jeremy glanced at Michael, suddenly suspicious of him. Michael blinked at him, casually taking a bite of his own spaghetti. Jeremy glanced at him again before moving his plate to the saucepan full of spaghetti sauce and adding more to his plate.

Michael’s slow smile made Jeremy feel even more confident about his decision. Somehow, Michael had figured him out yet again, almost without effort. Jeremy stuck another forkful in his mouth and smiled back at him.

“Gregory, slow down. You’re going to make yourself sick,” Evan said.

“It’f, fine.” Gregory swallowed hard.

“Careful you don’t choke,” Henry said warningly.

Gregory set his fork down quietly, his eyes watering. He coughed a little bit, causing Michael to turn to him with concern. “Gregory? Are you alright?”

Gregory fanned himself, and Jeremy immediately figured out what was going on. “Too spicy for you? You barely had any!” He shook his head and poured Gregory a glass of milk. “Drink this. It’ll help.”

Gregory eagerly took the glass, draining it in less than a minute. “Mmmmm.”

The rest of the meal went in relative silence, with Evan and Henry occasionally teasing Gregory for eating too fast and being unable to handle spicy food. Michael seemed oblivious to the main conversation, smiling softly to himself.

Jeremy knew he was staring, but he figured it wouldn’t be the biggest deal. Plenty of people stared at their friends, right? At the way they twisted spaghetti noodles onto their forks and brought their forks to their mouths. At the way their eyes glowed with joy at making something new successfully.

Michael caught his eye, and the smile widened. Jeremy felt himself smiling back easily. He’d already finished his food, and Evan and Gregory had finished half the spaghetti by themselves. There wouldn’t be many leftovers anyway.

Henry was the first to move from the table. He collected plates from everyone to take to the sink. When Michael moved to help, Henry waved him off, insisting that since Michael made the meal, he shouldn’t have to clean it up, with a meaningful look toward Evan and Gregory. He stopped Jeremy when he tried to get up too, insisting that guests shouldn’t need to help.

“But I thought we were guests,” Gregory grumbled when Evan tapped his arm to help him get up.

“Jeremy, that bandage really does need to be changed before you go,” Henry said quietly, gathering the leftovers into different containers.

“I can help him with it,” Michael said.

“Michael, you’ve done enough today. Especially with how you were feeling this morning-“

“I can help,” Michael interjected stubbornly.

Jeremy raised a confused eyebrow at the way Michael’s wings and hair ruffled.

“You need rest,” Henry said in a tone that brokered no argument.

Still, Michael persisted, the feathers now completely refusing to lay flat. Jeremy wondered how this could possibly be something he’d need to be so defensive about. “Hey, maybe Henry’s right. You have done a lot today.”

Michael scowled at that, and he grabbed Jeremy’s arm and practically dragged him out of his chair.

“What- Hey!” Jeremy stumbled into Micheal, expecting him to apologize or something.

“There’s the old Mike,” Evan mumbled quietly.

Michael’s face was right in front of Jeremy’s as he spoke. “I know my limits.”

“Do you?” Gregory challenged. He didn’t seem frightened in the slightest, which was very different from the atmosphere surrounding Michael at that moment. “To me it seems like you keep going until you drop. Maybe you should just get rid of that chip on your shoulder and let someone else handle it for once!”

“Like you did?” Michael snapped, and at that, Gregory actually flinched. “Sometimes, you can’t trust that help will come, Gregory. You should know that better than anyone.”

Gregory’s grip on the plate in his hands tightened. “Yeah, well, I didn’t have a family who took care of me like you do! So just suck it up.” Jeremy heard tears behind those words, and Evan mumbled something gently to him and tried to get him to turn his back on Michael.

That seemed to break something in Michael’s resilience. His wings twitched, and he let go of Jeremy’s shirt. “Right. Sorry.” He sounded just as torn as Gregory. “I…”

Jeremy figured nothing would be helped by Michael sticking around in the kitchen, so he tentatively put a hand to Michael’s shoulder. “Hey, you can help with my bandage. Maybe just tell me how to put it on so I do it right tomorrow morning, yeah?”

“So you aren’t staying then?” Henry asked, looking worriedly between the four boys.

Michael’s ashen expression was not particularly reassuring. “No, I mean. If it’s okay for me to stay, I plan to. I just… Maybe it should be my responsibility to fix that?” Jeremy gestured at the scratch on his face. “Seems like all I’m doing here is making more messes anyway. Might as well try to clean one up myself, right?”

Henry frowned but he said nothing.

Jeremy leaned close to Michael’s ear. “Come on then.”

“I didn’t mean to… I hurt his feelings,” Michael mumbled as he mechanically peeled the rest of the bandage away from Jeremy’s face to wipe at the scratch with a wet cloth.

“Energy was running high. Maybe you are a bit more overwhelmed then you thought? Frayed nerves break way for anger sometimes. Or so I’ve heard.”

“I still shouldn’t have done that.” Michael couldn’t even look Jeremy in the eye. He was too distraught.

“Why did you get so defensive, if you don’t mind me asking? And I’m not just talking about Gregory. You were adamant about helping me with my bandage.”

“I just…” Michael hesitated. “I haven’t had a chance to see you in days, and I wanted to get every moment I could?”

“An afternoon together wasn’t enough?” Jeremy teased, even though he knew exactly how Michael was feeling. “Look, that’s okay, Mike. But you gotta take care of yourself too.”

“Yeah, but-“

“What do you want? I know you think you have to help everybody all the time, but you’ve gotta have desires too, right?”

“Maybe I don’t deserve to have my desires realized,” Michael replied. He still wasn’t looking at Jeremy. “Maybe I’m just a rotten person who doesn’t deserve joy or anything that doesn’t directly benefit anybody else.”

“Michael Afton.” Jeremy said, trying to sound stern. “You are a human being just like everyone else. We all make mistakes. And you sound like you’re trying to atone for yours. I don’t know about you, but someone who tries to learn from their mistakes sounds like someone who deserves to have what they want every now and again.”

Michael completely froze at that. When he met Jeremy’s eyes, he looked utterly shattered. “I…” He swallowed. “I can’t do this anymore.”

“That’s okay, Mike. No one is asking you to do everything-“

“No, you don’t understand.” His voice was hardly a whisper. “I’ve… That scolding… You’ve said that to me before.”

“I have?”

Michael nodded mutely. “It was right before…” His wings stretched their full length as Michael squeezed his eyes shut. “I can’t.”

“What can’t you do, Michael?” Jeremy asked softly.

A pained noise rumbled in Michael’s throat, and he dropped the cloth, yanking Jeremy forward by his shirt. Their mouths crashed together, and all Jeremy could think was finally. His own hands went behind Michael’s shoulders, and he gently guided the wings back into a folded position before stroking them gently.

He didn’t want to stop kissing Michael. It was freeing and exhilarating at the same time. Michael tasted like bubble gum and smelled like clean laundry. He was the weirdest man Jeremy had ever met, but maybe that was what made him so alluring. Or maybe it was something else. Something about all this just seemed so… right.

When Michael broke away, Jeremy tried to follow. Michael looked at him fondly and laughed. “I thought you said I needed to take care of myself.”

“I can’t be that addicting,” Jeremy said impulsively.

Michael snorted. “I need air, Jeremy. We were both going to pass out if we kept that up.”

“Can we do it again?” Jeremy didn’t care about air. He just wanted to be close to Michael, wanted to make him smile, wanted to make him laugh.

Michael laughed again, a brilliant sound, before Jeremy pressed their lips back together. It was completely perfect.

[c0ffeejelly1]

Reacting to you wearing pheromone perfume

Multiple characters headcannon

Authors note: Dw they’re all horny for you, umm if it looks like I got lazy it’s bc I did. (POST-TIMESKIP!!)

Warnings: NSFW Content, Femdom(ish), vaginal sex, riding and uhhh find out the rest urself.

The plan was set.

You were just going to do your usual grocery run, but hold off putting the new found perfume on until you were at the door step.

That way, when you walked in, the scent would hit him like a wave, making it clear even for him to notice something different about you.

It was perfect! And soon the plan was to come into play as you sprayed yourself head to toe in its mist.

You tucked the bottle away deep in your grocery bag, then unlocked the door, the keys jingling softly as you did.

“Hey baby, I’m back.”

You say, shutting the door behind you and setting the groceries on the kitchen counter. “So what’ve you been up to?”

You shot him a quick glance from the couch, an innocent smile on your face.

The type to invade your personal space

What the... what the hell did you do? Something feels off here. He can sense it—no, he can practically smell it.

You’ve pulled a fast one, and he’s gonna find out what exactly it is..

“Me? Oh I’ve been up to absolutely nothing..like nothing at all.” he says, strolling over to you, a knowing smirk on his face.

“But the real question is though..what exactly have you been up to, huh?..”

You hadn’t realised just how close he had really gotten to you, until you took your eyes away from the ingredient in your hand to look at him, a palm rested onto the kitchen counter as he leaned in closer to you.

You didn’t waver though. You knew this was only an effect of the perfume working it’s magic, he was probably just trying to get a better whiff of you.

Everything was going according to plan..

“Well, I was just picking up some things for the house and dinner tonight. Thought I’d whip up your favorite, you know?”

You suddenly feel a grip on your shoulder as he turns you to face him. He takes this newfound opportunity as a chance to bury his nose into your neck.

“Jesus..” what hell did you actually do? Why’s he feeling so..bothered. And why do you look so attractive all of a sudden. Not that you’re not always beautiful, but right now... you’re just breathtaking, and it’s stirring up all sorts of feelings in him. “Why do you smell like this..”

Perfect. Everything was unfolding just as you wanted it! Sure, you didn’t expect him to take the bait so quickly, but who’s complaining? You knew what was coming; after all, this is your boyfriend.

“Hm? Smell like what, handsome? I always smell like this..” You wanted to tease him, to see how far he’d go with it. That turned out to be your biggest mistake.

NSFW

Now your legs were sore, your hips bruised, and your back aching, all while he continued thrusting up into you.

How was he still going? You had been lost in this rhythm for what felt like ages, your bodies entwined and slick with each other's essences.

“Ah-..Fuck..y-you feel so good..”

The air around you was thick with the scent of sweat and desire, a heady mix that only intensified the connection you both shared.

“And you s-smell..so so amazing..shit..it’s got me all types of f-fucked up..”

His face was flushed, lips slightly parted as he breathed heavily, each sound escaping him, a testament to the pleasure building between you.

His grip on your hip grew firmer, guiding your movements up and down his length with a deliberate urgency that sent shivers down your spine.

You could feel the heat radiating from his body, the way his muscles tensed and flexed beneath your touch, each thrust igniting a fire deep within you.

“I-I don’t think m’gonna last long if you keep t-tightening-..fuck..like that baby..”

The quick, shallow breath he took and the tension in his abdomen were unmistakable signs that he was nearing his peak again, ready to fill you completely once more.

You could see the way his eyes filled with desire, the intensity of his gaze locking onto yours as if trying to convey everything he felt in that moment.

It was a silent conversation, one that spoke of longing and need, of a connection that transcended words.

You leaned in closer, your lips brushing against his ear, whispering sweet nothings that only fueled the fire between you.

You begin to rock your own hips against him, matching his thrust causing a small whine to escape his lips, and in return sending waves of pleasure coursing to you.

You could feel the heat pooling in your belly, a delicious ache that begged for release. The way he moved under you, the way he held you, made you feel cherished and desired all at once.

“B-baby I-..m’gonna..fuck- I’m g-gonna cum-..I can’t-..m’gonna- c-cumming!..”

With the broken moan he let out, you could feel him surrenderer to the moment, releasing all he had left inside of him into you and allowing the sensations to wash over him, a small whimper leaving his lips feeling you pulse around him.

You couldn’t help but lose yourself in the pleasure that enveloped you both, and to think..

this was all because of some damn perfume.

Characters: reigen, dimple, kagami, AOMINE, tengen, connie, NISHINOYA, oikawa, GOJO, SOLOMON , CHILDE, KAEYA, wriothesley (Anyone you like)

The type to stare at you from afar

He knew from the moment you entered the room something was off.

Now, he couldn’t shake off his suspicion.

What had exactly changed about you..was it your clothes? Nah..it couldn’t be that.

Maybe you styled your hair differently?..no that’s just stupid; anyone would notice that.

He was so caught up in his thoughts he didn’t even realise just how long he had been staring at you, examining every little detail like you were some kind of puzzle.

It was a little unsettling to say the least but you continued on with sorting out the groceries.

“Hey babe, can you help me with this?”

“No.”

You look at him confused and quite frankly offended.

This mf really just said no to you.

“What do you mean, no?”

“I can’t get close to you.”

That’s exactly the OPPOSITE of what the perfume is supposed to do! It’s supposed to attract him towards you not make him act like a deer in headlights!

“What- why?” You say a little too disappointingly for your liking.

“If I did, I might do something bad.”

Something bad? What could he possibly mean by something ba- ohh…oh. Oh.

Would it be funny if you just said that you wanted him to do that ‘bad’ thing.

NSFW

Okay take back everything you said. This is not funny anymore.

In fact this is just back breaking especially with the way he’s pounding into you all while pressing his face deep inside the crook of your neck.

“H-hah..fuck..I-is this good for y-you too, baby?..”

You can feel the warmth of his breath against your skin, as he struggled to stifle his moans, the soft, enticing sounds escaping him despite his best efforts.

You would be lying if you said this wasn’t exactly what you wanted; after all, you did choose to wear that perfume, the one you knew would draw him in.

I guess you just didn’t anticipate such a strong reaction from him, the way his body responded to your presence, as if he’d been waiting for this moment all along.

The whole experience was incredibly distracting, especially with him so close to your ear, his breath hitching with every whispered compliment you offered.

“F-fuck..pull on my hair..p-please baby..m’so close for you..”

Each time your fingers tangled in his hair, you can feel the tension in his body falter, his hips instinctively responding to your words.

It was as if your gentle praise unlocked something deep within him, a vulnerability that made the air between you thick with unspoken desire.

He didn’t need no perfume to make love to you like this.

Characters: SERIZAWA, giyuu, armin, KAGEYAMA, OSAMU, geto, MAMMON, leviathan, albedo, CYNO, kazuha, XIAO (Anyone you like)

The type to get distracted while you speak

“Just the..the usual..”

“Mm..the usual huh? So mysterious.”

You throw him a quick look, a playful smirk creeping onto your face as you plop down next to him on the couch. With a dramatic sigh, you turn to him.

“Honestly, I was thinking about whipping up something new for us, but I’m not sure it’ll turn out great… Oh! You won’t believe who I bumped into at the store earlier—…”

‘Blah blah blah proper name, place name, backstory stuff..’ (PLEASE TELL ME YOU KNOW WHAT IM TALKING ABOUT)

This man is not listening to a single thing your saying.

Everything is just going through one ear and out the other.

Yet, he’s nodding along, pretending to listen, his eyes locked on yours and occasionally flicking to your lips.

You’ve got him hook line and sinker.

“Babe. Babe, are you even listening to me?”

“..Huh? Y-yeah, you were talking about.. your friend?”

Right, because chopping tomatoes has everything to do with friends.

“Oh really? And what exactly was I saying about said friend?”

“I- you were..y’know..stuff?”

You raise an eyebrow at him

“Look baby I can’t concentrate right now. I don’t know what you did, but my mind is wandering to places it shouldn’t, and it’s messing with me, so please…”

“..please what?” You know what he wants.

“Help a guy out? I know you can see it..”

Oh, you definitely could see it. You could see the huge hard on he had right now, and here he was, asking for your help—there was no way you were going to turn him down.

NSFW

He let out a deep sigh, tilting his head back against the couch, overwhelmed by the pleasure coursing through him as he struggled to maintain eye contact with you.

“You look a-absolutely stunning like this, my love…” His voice was a low murmur, thick with desire, as he took in the sight of you.

The way your mouth enveloped him, gently teasing his skin, sent shivers down his spine, igniting a fire within him that he could hardly contain.

Your lips moved with a tantalising rhythm, each caress sending waves of ecstasy through his body.

“Mhm..like that, k-keep sucking on it like that beautiful..”

He could feel the warmth of your breath, the softness of your touch, and it was all too much to bear.

His hands instinctively found their way to your hair, fingers behind your head, as he tried to guide you, to pull you even closer.

“Jus a l-little more for me baby m’already so close because of you..”

The way your hands explored him, tracing the contours of his body, ignited a primal urge deep within him.

Every gentle stroke, every teasing touch drew a soft gasp from his lips, a sound that echoed the intensity of the moment.

Before long, his breath caught in his throat, and without any warning, he released himself into your mouth.

Soft murmurs of "m’sorry" and "thank you" slipped from his lips, each word laced with a mixture of guilt and gratitude, as if he were acknowledging the weight of the moment while simultaneously surrendering to it.

He tilted his head back again, exposing the graceful curve of his neck, while a deep, guttural moan escaped him.

He clutched the couch for support, his fingers digging into the fabric as he began to calm himself down

He’d be lying if he said he didn’t like that perfume.

Characters: midorima, rengoku, eren, Tsukishima, akaashi, Ushijima, suna, NANAMI, LUCIFER, ayato, DILUC, neuvillette, zhongli (Anyone you like)

The type to suddenly want to be a man

“Doesn’t matter, let me help you with that.”

This probably may have been the fastest you had ever seen this lazy ass man get up from the couch and willing ask to help you with something without you telling him to.

This perfume was doing its damn job alright.

And you were liking it already.

“You sure babe? Do you even know where most of these things go?” you asked, a hint of skepticism in your voice.

“��No, but that doesn’t mean I can’t try for once, right?”

“Yeah sure..” you conceded, your curiosity piqued by his sudden determination.

“Just relax and take it easy. Please. I’ve got this covered.” he assured you, his tone confident and light.

You let him gently guide you back to the couch, ensuring you stayed seated while he headed to the kitchen.

A few moments later, he returned to you.

“Finished already? That was fast—”

Your words were abruptly silenced as another set of lips met yours, warm and insistent.

The unexpected kiss sent a jolt of surprise through you, momentarily stealing your breath away.

You had been caught off guard, your playful teasing hanging in the air like a forgotten thought.

When the kiss finally broke, you both pulled back slightly, as he rested his gaze on you his chest rising gently.

“I want 10 of em.”

“..10 of what?”

“kids.” He replies with a stern look on his face.

“...”

“Is that a yes?”

“You’re joking, right?”

“I’m being deadass.”

NSFW

Well let’s just say he was NOT joking, and was very much being true to his words.

He intended to have those 10 kids, but first, he needed to prepare you.

That's why you found yourself on the bed, your legs resting on his shoulders as he immersed himself in your warmth.

“Mm..so good..you taste so fucking good..”

He was devouring you like a man starved, his tongue skillfully teasing your clit and occasionally sucking on it, making your legs tighten around him even more.

How many times had you cum already with his restless mouth?

Just how long did he plan on keeping this up?

You were already worn out, and now your legs were killing you.

“One more for me pretty girl..come on I know you can do it. You’ve got one more left in ya don’t you..” his words were muffled in with the wet sounds of your juices but you could still hear each and everyone of his dirty talk.

The way he would urge you into coming undone onto his tongue, the way his nose would brush up against your clit as his tongue pummelled into your hole.

It was all too much.

You knew you wouldn’t be able to last much longer anymore especially with his hums of approval sending all the right vibrations down to your mound.

With one last flick of his tongue against your clit, you came, fingers gripping onto his hair tightly.

When catching your breath just as you thought you had finished up with everything, do you hear the rustling of the sheets only to see him preparing to put his length into you.

“Fuck..d-don’t look at me like that princess, you know damn well we aren’t done here, especially with how hard I am now..”

That perfumes going on lock down.

Characters: Sanemi, jean, REINER, UKAI, kuroo, hinata, BOKUTO, atsumu, iwaizumi, CHOSO, DIAVOLO, ITTO, thoma (Anyone you like)

[oceantornadoo]

protective ex-husband!simon, implied violence/break-in

“i know! and that’s when i told her-“ you paused, your hand halfway to the keys at the bottom of your purse. your apartment door was open, a menacing sliver of darkness awaiting you. “hey, i’m going to have to call you back.” you ended the call with your friend, slowly backing away from your door. shit. you knew you locked the door when you left for work, and no one else had a copy of your key. a creeping sensation came over you, like someone was watching from within. slowly, you retreated, taking the elevator down to your apartment’s lobby as the anxiety crawled through your body. you wracked your brain, wondering if you should call the police. wondering if they would even believe you. there was only one call to make.

“come on, pick up.” you tapped your foot impatiently as your ex husband took forever to answer the phone. it was all you could do to not think about your home being violated, about a potential stalker or date gone wrong.

“‘ello?”

“si- simon, it’s me.”

“i know, lovie. that’s why i picked up.” you let out a quiet sob of relief at his voice, the bottle on your emotions starting to leak.

“what’s wrong?” his voice changed, immediately hearing your silent tears. he could always read you too well. “i don’t want to bother you but” you hiccupped. shit. “but my apartment door was open and i’m pretty sure i closed it, i usually do. i don’t know if im being silly but now im in the lobby and im just scared, simon.” there was a fumbling sound, the echoes of simon zipping up his jacket and pulling on his shoes.

“go to that cafe across the street, dove. go get yourself one of those overpriced hot chocolates. i’ll be there in 15.”

9 minutes later, your shaking hands were tapping random patterns on the cafe table, unable to raise your drink to your mouth without spilling it. your eyes were locked onto the wood grain, counting lines to distract yourself.

suddenly, a gloved hand covered yours. you looked up and there he was, your ghost in all his glory. you forgot everything for a second, forgot the past arguments and the strained silences, and flung yourself into his arms. you breathed in his comforting scent of pinewood that masked his cigarettes, a cologne you got him four years ago for christmas. your face was wet, and as he pulled you back to check you for injuries, his thumb brushed a stray tear away from your face. you didn’t even realize you were crying.

“‘s okay, baby. i’m here now. give me your keys.” you fumbled for your keys, purse strap sliding off your shoulder as your hands shook too much to keep it balanced. simon caught it gracefully, finding your keys in the same pocket you always kept them. “stay here. i’ll be back.” you nodded instinctively. only when you saw his figure retreat to your apartment building, clothed in all black like a figure of death, you realized you hadn’t told him your new apartment number.

twenty minutes passed. simon’s presence had worked like medicine as your heart rate has now dropped back down to normal, your hands stable enough to finish your drink. any other person would be worried for simon’s safety, but you knew the only person you should be concerned for was your intruder.

“you’re stayin’ with me tonight.” he was back, looking exactly the same. he wasn’t even winded. “thank you simon, but don’t be ridiculous. i can get a hotel. you live so far from my work anyways.” he approached you, crowding into your space as he leaned over you, even with a cafe table in between. “consider it payment then.” he tilted your chin up with his left hand as he hid his other one, covered with blood, in his pocket. “one way or another, you’re in my bed tonight, dove.” you gulped at that. “and i’ve got riley in the car. you wouldn’t abandon him, would you?” of course he had gotten your cat when he checked out your apartment. riley hated men, but never simon. cheeky bastard.

“you win.”

fast forward a couple of hours and you were getting ready for bed at simon’s, belly full from the meal he had made you. riley made himself at home on the living room couch, of course. “he’s in my spot.” you gestured to your cat on the couch. “wha’ d’ya mean?” your husband simon was now in sweats and sweats only, clean from the shower he had after you both got home back to his place. you pretended not to see him methodically wash blood out of his fingernails, reasoning quite easily with yourself that it was for a good cause.

“my couch for tonight.” simon moved toward you and you avoided his eyes, trying not to stare at how beautiful he still was. muscular but thick, torso adorned with scars you used to trace on sunday mornings when you both stayed in bed until the afternoon. he gripped your chin, forcing you to make eye contact. “told’ya you were in my bed tonight, dovie.” you swallowed and he watched your throat move, memories of you swallowing something else countless times rising to the surface.

“don’t be silly, simon. that would cross a line.”

“what line?” his arms were crossed now, drawing your attention to an unfamiliar tattoo right above his heart. a small dove.

“we’re not together anymore, simon.”

“you’re still my wife.”

silence. he was always like this, pushing you until you broke. he was unwilling to compromise, even on the smallest of issues. usually you’d fight him, spit fire until you lost your voice. tonight though, you were reminded of how he was the only person you were able to call, the only one committing dark sins without asking, all for your safety. instead, you threw your hands up and walked into his bedroom, mechanically stripping as you put on one of his shirts and a pair of boxers. you felt his eyes on you, burning a hole through the fabric. you were tired, so tired of this push and pull.

“what.” you whipped around, all venom. his eyes were impossibly soft, holding yours with a peaceful caress. “you’re as beautiful as the day i lost you.” your fire went out at that. “you’re just trying to get me naked.” you mumbled, looking down as you fidgeted with the hem of his shirt. you watched as his body came into view, pressing your forehead against his bare skin.

“could see you in a thousand layers and you’d still be the most beautiful person i’ve ever seen, dove.” ever so slowly, your hands crept up his body to grab his shoulders and neck. he picked you up with ease, turning the lights off and tucking you both in bed. “when did you get the tattoo?” you asked in the dark.

“3 months and 12 days ago.” what would have been your 3rd year of marriage, your anniversary. you lowered your head and gave him a kiss right where the tattoo was. “can we talk about it in the morning?” you snuggled into him, that familiar scent calming you once again. “always, dove.” he kissed your forehead, smiling in the dark.

----

idk why im obsessed with the break-in and simon to the rescue trope but its fueling me lately

[deadsetobsessions]

Sea Cryptic! Danny AU- Pt.3

[Pt.1] [Pt.2] [Pt.4] [Pt.5] [Pt.6] [Pt.7] [Pt.8] [Pt.9] [Pt.10]

“Aquaman.” Batman swept into the room, beelining straight for the suddenly apprehensive Atlantean king.

“Batman. What can I do for you?”

“Phantom. Does he pay taxes?”

“Pardon?”

Batman makes a low noise that had Aquaman’s danger senses buzzing.

“Does Phantom have to pay taxes. Towards Atlantis.”

“No…? Why?”

“He wanted money, in exchange for… information, of a delicate sort,” Batman said, diplomatically avoiding the topic of Phantom bargaining for the identities of corpses in exchange for a measly $100 dollars per identity. Like a flea market dealer, that one was.

“You encountered Phantom again?” Aquaman perked up.

“Yes. Gotham’s bay is… polluted.” Batman paused. “With victims. Of murder.”

The entire area quieted as heads turned towards the Dark Knight.

“Yes, I am… distantly aware of Gotham’s waters.” By that, Aquaman gets green around the gills whenever he turns his awareness in that direction. There’s a reason he doesn’t enter Gotham, and the Dark Knight’s ban is only half of that reason. “Ah, but you’re correct. For what purpose would Phantom need mortal currency?”

“Hn.”

“Maybe he needs some stuff?” Flash zipped to a stop next to Batman, feet tapping as he dug into the pile of snacks cradled in his arms. “Us mortals are always coming up with new things, maybe he wants to try some games or something?”

Batman tilted his head down, seriously considering Flash’s suggestion. “It’s plausible.”

“Barry, Barry, Barry. He’s old as hell, right? He probably wants to try the new booze!”

“Hal, my man!” Flash fist bumped Green Lantern, who came up. “You’re back! What happened to John?”

“Dunno. He got called somewhere that way,” Green Lantern waved a vague hand towards the left. “Had to deal with a politician or something from that area.” He shrugged, swinging an arm over Barry’s shoulders to put him in a headlock and stealing a chip.

“Huh. Anyways, would our mortal alcohol even work on a demi-god or something?”

“We should ask!” Hal turned towards Batman. “You should ask if he wants to go for a drink, spooky!”

“He’s a child.”

“He’s been around for more than a millennia, Bats.”

“Informational gathering, right, Hal?” Flashgot out of the headlock, quickly munching on his snacks to stop Green Lantern from stealing them.

“Totally. Yup.”

“…Fine.”

“Wait, are we just gonna ignore that Gotham’s waters are full of bodies?”

“Yes.”

——

“What?” Danny asked, mind half on the bags he’s dragging out of the water and the other half on the essay he has to submit in about four hours.

“Green Lantern wanted to invite you out for a drink.”

Danny turned to the stoic Gotham knight, who had his wrist computer out to log the bodies’ info the moment Danny gave him the information. Some of them even told Danny who murdered them, so Batman could start building cases with solid leads.

Danny’s only twenty. He’s not legal yet but he doesn’t want to give any clues to who he is. How is he supposed to…

Ah!

“Can’t.” Danny shrugged. “I’m not legal. I died when I was fourteen so…” Danny trailed off, speechless at the drowned puppy face Batman was giving him. What the fuck.

“Anyways, fork over my payment.”

Batman wordlessly hands him a wad of hundreds.

“What do you need cash for?” Batman suddenly asked.

“Huh? Isn’t it obvious?” Danny tucked it in. “Material things, obviously. I need a blanket,” because holy shit, Gotham is damn cold this time of year. “Anyways, see you same time next week, litterer.”

“I don’t litter.”

“Tell that to the batarangs I found under the water,” Danny grumbled. “But I’ll stop calling you that if you get a signature from Poison Ivy. I have a friend who loves her.”

“An alive friend?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know, weatherboy?”

Danny snickered and disappeared. He’s gotta cram that essay.

——

“There’s a possibility Phantom might be homeless.”

“Batman, I mean this in the nicest way, but for the love of Atlantis, please stop giving me headaches. It’s time like these I wish I stayed a lighthouse keeper.”

[villainbait]

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Pairing: Sylus x MC / fem!reader Rating: PG-13 Tags: who did this to you, hurt, comfort, hurt/comfort, injury, implied violence, brief violence mentions, angst, canon sylus behavior, blood mentions, kissing if you squint Summary: You barely survived a night on your own in the N109 Zone without the watchful gaze of certain Onychinus leader, but at what cost? Word Count: 1.5k

The dull sound of your door closing was like the snap of a final curtain call falling into place and you slumped against it, relieved to be safely in your own apartment. You had survived a night in the N109 Zone on your own, but it had been a near miss. One you wouldn’t be repeating, especially since the intel you wanted had been a bust, anyway. 

You touched your side, your breathing uneven, and you wince. You definitely have a cracked rib. You try to take a deep breath and pain radiates from your chest into your stomach, making you a little nauseous. Okay, maybe two.

You were trying to psych yourself up to move and trudge into your apartment to give yourself much needed medical attention when the reverberating shock of someone's forceful knock bounced you against your door-frame. You consider not answering the insistent caller on the other side, but a muffled, familiar baritone floats through the door.

"Open the door, sweetie."

A sigh left your lips at the demand and you tried to stifle the pathetic, painful whimper that your exasperation cost you. Of all the people on the other side of that door, Sylus was the most unexpected. Or maybe not, considering he boasted that he knew everything that went on in his territory. Maybe that’s why he was here and if it was, he wouldn’t leave until his curiosity was satisfied.

The door cracks open and you stare up at him through the hole you made, reluctant to allow him entrance and to partially block his view of the damage those thugs had caused when they mugged you in the alleyway earlier tonight. However, Sylus’s easy smile is nowhere to be found and the frown lines on his forehead are the deepest you've ever seen them. His large hand wraps around the door-frame so you can’t close it again and he pushes gently against it, but you don’t budge. 

"Who did this to you?" His tone is dangerously low.

You ignore his question, instead poking your head out to look down the deserted hallway of your apartment building. "Why are you here? It's dangerous." It was risky for Sylus to wander around Linkon City normally, even if he claimed many people didn't know what he actually looked like. However, the Hunter’s Association did and your building was crawling with employees at all hours of the day and night.

"You didn't answer your phone, so I got worried."

Oh right, you had forgotten they had taken that too. You sighed again, the pain of having to replace everything beginning to give you a headache. That key charm Zayne had given you for your birthday was perhaps the worst thing to have lost, maybe more than the phone itself.

"Let me in, kitten." Sylus’s voice is gently cajoling and you concede because you're too tired to argue with him tonight. So you open the door and  try to act normal, but your voice is far too lighthearted for how heavy your legs feel as you trudge into the apartment. 

“You know, if you keep frowning like that you’ll get wrinkles and people really will think you’re an old man.” 

He follows you in with a small chuckle, his eyes bouncing around the room as if the perpetrators could be hiding in the shadows. When you grabbed the first aid kit and sat down to tend to your injuries, Sylus was suddenly there, kneeling in front of you. His hands push yours out of the way and he silently takes over the job of nurse, and you think about fighting him as you watch him roll up his shirtsleeves but realize you were just too exhausted to care. 

“What happened?” He asks eventually and you realize you will have to tell him something. Lying won’t work, he’ll find out if he didn’t already know. 

“What often happens when you end up in the wrong place at the wrong time in the N109 Zone, Sylus.” You offer with a single shrug, doing your best to sit still while he cleans the wound on your arm. “You know that better than me.” 

“Were you wearing–” he was referring to the brooch that signified your status as protected. 

“They took that too.” His hands stilled on the bandage he was applying on your forearm. “Did they, now?” he murmured silkily and you saw a muscle in his jaw tick, though his expression was partially obscured by his unruly hair. “After all that trouble I went through, too.” You tried to make a joke to ease the tension which earned you a soft amused twitch of Sylus’s lips. He was too angry to truly smile and you could feel it radiating off of him in waves. Despite that, his hands were painstakingly gentle as he touched what was clearly a blossoming bruise around your wrist. Sylus’s tender touch lingers on your injuries and he checks each one with a thoroughness that feels as if he’s memorizing exactly where you were hurt. 

He orders some of your favorite food, helps you get cleaned up, and tucks you into your bed. He points to the notepad you kept by your bedside table that you sometimes scribble notes on when you took calls. “Make me a list of what they looked like, and then go to bed. I’ll take care of the rest.” Before you could protest, he left the room abruptly. You picked up the notepad and stared at the print of the cute little animals dancing around the top. You’d bought it on a whim after seeing how cute it looked in a stationary shop window near one of your mission sites. It seemed too obscene to write what would virtually be a hit list on such charming paper. 

Instead, you scribble all of the reasons you’re grateful for today. Right at the top was that you had survived all on your own in the N109 Zone and you were able to see the infamous Onychinus leader kneeling at your feet. The list grew as you included the tasty food you ate earlier, and the glimpse of a suspiciously familiar crow you saw on your way into work this morning. The page was halfway filled when the pain medication Sylus had convinced you to take started to kick in and you felt your eyelids drooping. 

Drowsily, you snuggle down underneath your covers and clutch the plushie Sylus and you had won at the arcade last weekend. When you hear the distant muffled click of your door opening, you try to rouse yourself but you felt so warm and your body felt so heavy that you couldn’t manage it. That doesn’t stop you from trying until a large hand gently smoothed back your mussed hair, and the sensation of soft knuckles trace the curve of your cheek. “It’s just me,” the familiar voice murmured and you tried to speak but he shushed you. “Sleep, kitten.” 

You swear you felt the ghost of his lips on yours before he was gone, but maybe it was just part of the hazy dream you had of crows, violence, and enchanting sanguine eyes. 

Sylus returns to the N109 Zone and finds himself staring at the “list,” a bemused smile on his face. He shakes his head and tucks the cutesy page into his pocket. You were far too adorable and it made what he was about to do that much more satisfying, sauntering into the abandoned warehouse where your phone had last pinged; deceptively calm. The screams and stench of death shuddered throughout the N109 Zone tonight, serving as a violent and bloody reminder to all that no one should dare to touch what was his lest they face the consequences. 

Sometime in the early hours of the morning, your fingers fumble for your buzzing phone and land on the familiar outline of the brooch, both in their normal places as if yesterday was just a bad dream. Through your sleepy daze, you realize your other hand is occupied–as is your bed. Turning, you’re surprised to find Sylus is fast asleep next to you, his hand intertwined tightly with yours. There’s deep circles under his eyes, but his normally furrowed brow is smoothed out in sleep. With a sleepy smile, you curl back up to let him rest a little while longer, tucking your joined hands against your chest, cuddling his arm.

You both doze off together, and you’ve never felt so safe.