#i might be complaining but so far i am enjoying it

[the-game-spirit]

been playing sky cotl for the first time these past few days and not gonna lie the grind in this 'relaxing' game is kinda obscene 😭

[heartyearning]

handsewing button holes through 6 layers of fabric is an unfortunately huge pain in the ass and tragically i have to do 18 of them

[sunnami]

❝i am half-agony, half-hope. . . i have loved none but you.❞

summary: how the marauders loved you in their time. featuring harry potter the time-traveller and sixth-wheel.

pairing/s: poly!marauders + lily x reader.

tags: reader is referred to as she/her and a mother throughout the whole fic[!], reader is a violent gremlin who craves blood but the marauders love you for that, implied child abuse[!], mentions of blood and violence[!], disgustingly sappy poetic fluff, no angst, happy ending, not proofread we die like finnick odair, edited: very minor detail.

note: there is little plot, it’s just the marauders and their adoration for you. thank you all so much for your kind responses to my first marauders fic :(( ilysm! i hope you enjoy this one as well! because there are parts when i was writing that i ended up kicking my feet in the air and smiling to myself.

“MY NAME IS HARRY POTTER. I come from twenty-years in the future, you’re my mum — one of my ‘em, actually. It’s complicated. And you’re married to James Potter, Remus Lupin, and Sirius Black.” 

You blink. 

“Get the fuck out of my room!” 

Harry James Potter has dodged many things in his life. Killing curses, jinxes, girls, Draco Malfoy, and Dudley’s sloppy punches, but he’s never had to dodge his sixteen-year-old mother’s fuzzy slipper before. (Godric, that sounds weird, even in his head.) He doesn’t know precisely how he arrived here. In the Slytherin common room, to be exact, in your dorm. Harry remembers duelling with Death Eaters, Hermione calling his name, and a flash of light hitting him square in the chest, then he remembers waking up in the cold tiles of the snake dungeon. He nearly throws himself off the window when he meets your eyes, bleary from interrupted sleep — it’s not often he gets to meet [read: one of] his dead parents, after all, three had been brutally murdered by Voldemort, and one killed by his own loony cousin. He misses Sirius, though. A lot. And right about now, he could do with some of Hermione’s nagging and brilliant plan-making. 

At present — or past, Harry guesses — he watches you scramble out from your duvet, hand clumsily reaching for your wand as you snarl at him. He wonders if his mother knows that he’s encountered other creatures far more threatening than her. Oh shit, he realizes with all the forces of an angry Hermione Granger, isn’t this the last thing he’s supposed to do? But, well, Harry has given, and given, so much of himself all for the greater good — just this once, he’d like to see his parents alive and well. Even if they were currently trying to blast him into the walls. 

“If you’d just let me explain, mum—!” Harry pleads, nearly dropping his glasses after dodging one of your stinging hexes. Godric, you’re crazy. “Please!” 

“Stop calling me that!” You screech, eyes set ablaze.  Harry finds that you’re quite dynamic with your attacks. A hairbrush, followed by a stinging jinx, then a thick History of Magic textbook — which rudely hits him in the face, but he doesn’t dare complain because you’re his mother, and he’s respectful like that — and after you’ve exhausted your breath, running him into a corner, and your nostrils flare with the stubbornness of a lion, you point the tip of your wand at him. “If this is another one of the Prewett’s shitty pranks, I want you to leave! You are in the girls’ dormitory beyond midnight, and so help me, if you aren’t walking out that door in the next five seconds, I will kill you and string you up by your bottoms for everyone in school to see! Maybe all your stupid rumours of me being a Death-Eater might come true after all!” 

“You’re a Death-Eater?” Harry asks dumbly. 

You growl furiously, and Harry figures that was not the right thing to say. “I wonder what McGonagall would say if I delivered your head to her on a silver platter.” 

“Professor,” Harry corrects with a toothy grin. “Professor McGonagall.” 

You slam his head against the wall.

Definitely the wrong thing to say. 

Harry groans, little Dobby heads floating around his vision. Why was this so much harder than actually facing Voldemort? Quick, he needed to think of something, otherwise he’d end up eviscerated to ashes on your cold, stone floors. Harry is pretty sure you’d use his remains as decoration to send off a message to your enemies. 

“You hate your father,” Harry slurs through the pain, remembering Remus’s stories of how you were the gentlest magical being he’s ever had the privilege to love — now that Harry thinks about it, Remus was being extremely biased, nothing about you is gentle at all. “He’s forcing you to marry someone old enough to be your grandfather. You love to read Muggle literature but had to stop when your father burnt your whole collection of books. Your favorite novel is Persuasion by Jane Austen. It’s the one book you carry with you everywhere, you could never get tired of it.”  

Your grip on his shoulders falters, but the fury in your eyes crackles. “This isn’t funny.” 

“It’s not meant to be funny, mum,” Harry croaks, voice cracking pathetically — strange how this is the most he’s ever uttered the word, mum; it’s a peculiar string of letters, foreign on his tongue. “You have tremors in your left leg from when your father cast the Cruciatus curse on you. One of your dearest friends is a Hogwarts house-elf named Pipley. You cheated on your Transfiguration essay once, and—” 

“That’s enough!” You bark, eyes narrowed in dangerous slits. “I don’t know where you heard those from, you creepy, little stalker, but if you want to keep breathing, then I suggest you shut up.” 

Harry scoffs — you don’t understand. Everything he’s learned about you is from Sirius and Remus. They talk about you with whispered devotion, your name like a prayer on their lips, their eyes glazed with wistfulness as though they could see you reaching out for them — but you were dead in Harry’s time. Yet, you might as well have been alive with their tales of you. 

(“She’s a different kind of beautiful,” Sirius had said, a year after breaking out from Azkaban, sitting by the fire in Grimmauld Place, taking a swig of decade-old firewhiskey, “The kind of beautiful you don’t want to take your eyes off from because you’re afraid she’ll disappear from your eyes. But you won’t forget her, oh no, you’ll memorize the freckles and moles on her skin, the scars from her years, the light in her eyes, and the way she holds her head up high. You should have seen her, James, she. . . she was — is glorious.”) 

“I told you,” says Harry firmly — although he loves his mother very much, she’s beginning to wear him out, “My name is Harry James Potter, I come from twenty-years in the future. You are one of my parents.” A lightbulb flashes in his head. He squirms in your hold, reaching for his robe pocket until he finds the thing he’s looking for. Harry dangles the ring in front of you, grinning in success when your eyes flash in recognition. “It’s—” 

“A family heirloom,” You say breathlessly. The alexandrite winks under the light, a familiar gold band with the Latin inscription of your House words. “Where did you steal this from?” 

Harry rolls his eyes. “You left it for me in my Gringotts vault. It’s my heirloom now. You have to believe me, there’s no way you can deny this.” 

You take a step backwards, nibbling on your lower lip, as you stagger to your bed — Harry nearly stumbling to catch you in case you fell; adjusting to the living proof of time travel was quite difficult, he, of all people, should know. He exhales, dragging a hand down his face. “Magic, amirite?” 

You throw a pillow at him, which he catches gracefully thanks to his Seeker reflexes, as you plop down in the comforts of your quilts. “Sleep. The other girls won’t be back until the end of the holiday. We can deal with whatever this is in the morning. It’s way too early for me to process the idea of a future Potter spawn following me around.” 

Harry smiles. “Yes, mum.” 

ONE THING THAT his fathers failed to tell him about you, and that Harry had to learn himself, was that you took ages to get ready. You sat on the chair in front of your vanity mirror, the birch wood legs whittled with snakes, and it was as though you had a Sticking Charm on the cushion. Harry didn’t know there could be so many creams, oils, and serums, and powders one put on their face. He blanches when you turn to offer him a cream for his under eyes. (“Suit yourself.” You shrug, turning to brush your cheek with dusts of pink. “Just saying, those dark circles aren’t doing you any favors.”)

“What am I like in the future?” You ask, a kind lilt to your voice, much like a warm hug, much like home. 

Harry stiffens, shoving his hands in pockets of the robes that were twice his size — you had given him the garments of Lucius Malfoy to change in, which you apparently had stolen from his room. It’s come full circle, really, the Sorting Hat had once told him he would be great in Slytherin, and now here he was, looking fabulous in green — because he was about to hurl at the feel of the velvet on his skin, knowing slimy Lucius Malfoy had worn it. (“No son—” You pause with a tight purse in your lips, as if you still can’t accept the fact. Harry doesn’t blame you. “—no son of mine will be parading around in red of all colors, future or not.” And Harry finds that he really doesn’t care, so long as you call him your son.)  

“Loved,” replies Harry gruffly, avoiding your eyes in the reflection of your mirror — they were piercing. One look and Harry wanted to spill all of his deepest, darkest secrets. He remembers the photographs in his album, the one he’s stared at so many times as a child. It’s a moving photograph of the five of you, fresh out of Hogwarts, each wearing a smile that stretched from ear-to-ear. Before Sirius and Remus, it was the only semblance of proof that Harry had — that you had once been alive. Remus is holding you by the waist in the picture, twirling you around as autumn leaves fell. You were — are — loved, and Harry thinks there’s no better description than that. 

(“I bloody hated her cat,” says Remus with a roguish quirk to his lips, regalling Harry with more talks of his parents. “Sirius, too. We just never got along with the little creature. But your mother loved it, and we would have done anything to make her happy. She deserved it, you see. She deserved more than what I had to offer her, but still she chose me anyway. And I am a selfish man, Harry, I crave glimpses of her and the whispers of her voice. She has made me a mad man whose only reprieve is her touch.”) 

You hum knowingly. “Stupid question, I guess. Since you aren’t allowed to reveal anything more about the future.” You sigh, gracefully threading your arms in the sleeves of your shirt, a green tie in the center of your collar. “Except, of course, when you gave me a heart attack in the middle of the night by telling me the last thing I want to become — no offense, I just don’t see how a relationship with those rowdy bunch would work. They get on my nerves far too much for me to ever feel anything other than disgust.” 

Harry doesn’t need a mirror to see that his expression has contorted in confusion; brows knitted and upper lip crinkled. By their memories of you, you all were madly in love in Hogwarts. Damn. This just made his trip to the past a lot harder. No maze seems to be ever just a maze. 

Luckily, you don’t notice him brewing a grand master plan to bring his parents together. Instead, you say, “But you don’t seem to be phased by any of this. If I had been thrown twenty years into the past, I would have puked my guts out twice at some point.” 

“Thanks for the image,” says Harry with a scowl. Truthfully, it had either been a present with a noseless Dark Lord to face, trauma to unpack but really never have the chance to, or a past where all of his parents were alive, and a chance to talk with them for however long he has. He knows where he’ll be staying, thank you very much. 

“Anytime,” You reply with an impish smile. 

Your heels pad across the floor as you walk over to him, mouth clicking as you pat the top of his head, full of wild, untameable Potter hair. “You need a trim soon,” You mutter, frowning, as you brush the thick strands away from his eyes, then you gasp — and Harry knows exactly what’s coming next. “Oh, you’ve got Evans’s eyes. That’s freaky.” 

“I know.” Harry grins. 

“Here’s the plan,” You say as you lead him out of your room, making sure no one saw him walking out of your door and getting the wrong impression — because that would be so wrong on many levels, but also, explaining to someone else that the person beside you was a time-traveller was just complicated in general. The Slytherin dungeon is unfamiliarly familiar, eerily quiet, as the two of you made your way out. “Just say you’re Potter’s distant relative, twice or thrice removed, and you’ve always been here. If you lie to their faces enough, they’ll believe it eventually.” 

“Will that work?” Harry doesn’t really mind — he needs a connection to James, his father, if he’s going to work out a connection between you and the others, because at the moment, it doesn’t seem like you’re too fond of them. There’s a tick on your jaw every time you mumble the word, Potter. Nevertheless, Harry decides he’s going to spend the duration of the holiday break trying to set you up with them — on the list of most insane things he’s ever done, living out the Parent Trap was high up the tally. 

You shrug. “They’ve fallen for less.” 

(“She’s got this adorable habit when she lies,” Sirius tells Harry, whipping up a stack of pancakes for their breakfast — Remus browsing through the morning paper. It’s the closest he’s ever been to a normal family. “It’s not obvious to her, of course, but I know her more than I know my own name. So we play along with it.” For a moment, he stops drizzling the maple syrup on the well-cooked batter, gazing at Remus fondly. “D’you remember that, Moony? She led us straight to one of her pranks, and we ended up covered in slug slime. She was so obvious — with her adorable fucking giggles. I need help with Charms, she said, and we knew right away it was a set-up. But it didn’t matter. I’d happily let her lead me to my ruin.”)  

The Great Hall is the same as Harry remembers. Now that most have returned home for the holidays, those who stay back mingle with students from other Houses, sharing meals under the bewitched ceiling, their low murmurs and hushed Christmas greetings bouncing off the walls. Harry scours the four tables to find a hint of blazing red hair, or the scent of impending trouble. Fortunately, he doesn’t have to search very far. As fate would have it, James Potter finds you — and where he is, Sirius Black is sure to follow. 

You’re barely seated when James comes bounding over to your table — more precisely, he struts, and Harry is horrified to ever be proven wrong by Snape, of all people. He ignores the roll of your eyes as he drags a leg over the bench, sitting to face you as Sirius occupies the space to your left before Harry can even sit down. He can’t even fathom how weird it is to see his parents as rambunctious teenagers. Lovesick, rambunctious teenagers. 

“Morning, dove.” James preens under your glare, stealing a grape from your bowl with a boyish smirk. His hair looks as though he’s ran his hand through it many times. “You look ravishing today.” 

“As always,” Sirius pipes in. “But that eyeshadow really isn’t complementing your skin tone, my darling.” 

You smile at him, right before your lips twist into a cutthroat sneer. “Piss off, Black.”

James stifles a laugh as he shovels a mass of potatoes on your plate, then pumpkin pasties, and slides a steaming cup of Dragon Well tea in front of you. 

“What the hell are you doing, Potter?” You reach over to smack his arm when he sprinkles apple slices and bacon on your breakfast. 

“What does it look like?” James smiles lopsidedly. “You need to eat more, honey.”

(In the future, Sirius will tell Harry, “It started off as a joke, a way to get on her nerves — but then, it just became this thing about taking care of her, making sure she got enough sleep before her tests, wondering if she had breakfast or dinner, staying with her in the library, walking her to the Slytherin common room, and sending her stupid notes just to make her laugh. You don’t get it, Harry. I’d give my every breath to ensure her life. We all would.” Harry doesn’t see Sirius any more during that evening, but he hears a bottle crashing against a wall, cracking into a million pieces, and the masked sound of Sirius sobbing, and Harry decides to leave him alone for the night.) 

Then, you tear your eyes away from James — he huffs, pushing your plate to you, mildly annoyed that you’ve deprived him of your eyes; they were his favorite part of you, you see, so expressive and full of life; James thinks you put the stars to shame — and thankfully, you remember that Harry still exists. You lightly smack Sirius’s leg until he gives Harry some room to sit. “Potter, meet other Potter. It’s the holidays, shouldn’t it be the perfect time to let go of House prejudices and spend time with family?” 

James looks at Harry up and down. “You must be from dad’s side of the family with all that hair.” 

Harry lets out a breath of relief. That was easy — way too easy. When he takes the vacant space in between you and Sirius, you dump all the available food on his plate, just as James had done for you. 

“Eat,” You say with a tone of finality. “You look like the wind could snap you in half.” 

“Yes, m—” Harry stops himself before he could finish his sentence, avoiding Sirius’s curious gaze. 

“Wow.” Sirius pokes Harry in the shoulder and in the cheek. “You really look like a mini-James, you’ve even got his terrible eyesight.” 

“Oi!” 

Your fork clatters against the silverware as you turn to Sirius with a shrill. “Not that I do enjoy your company — because, trust me, I do not want you here at all and would very much prefer if you got out of my sight — but why are you here? The Gryffindor table is over there. Unless your housemates finally got sick of you, Potter, which I can definitely see happening.” 

James chuckles, tossing another grape in his mouth without taking his eyes off you. “It’s as you said, isn’t it? It’s the time for putting aside House prejudices. And I think it’s a lovely day to enjoy a meal with my favorite snake.” 

“Drop dead,” You retort, digging into your chicken with a little more force than necessary. 

“Oh, dove.” James shakes his head, a teasing grin pulling at his lips. “It’s cute that you think death will keep me from you.” 

(Harry’s been told before, probably by Sirius, that this line had been wedged into his wedding vows for you. “A dramatic one, James was,” Sirius chuckles to himself one morning, Harry and Hermione listening intently, “He always said he’d rather die than ever hurt her. There was this time in seventh year, they had a fight — it was ugly — and she had ignored him for a week. James cried in Remus’s arms begging him to cut his heart out, saying that he didn’t deserve to keep on breathing, not after making you cry.”) 

“That is so creepy,” You say in disgust, scrunching your nose. Sirius chortles at your side. “I still wonder why Evans agreed to go out with you.” 

“It’s all part of the charm, dove.” James winks. “It’s all part of the charm.” 

Harry wants to barf, actually.

After breakfast, James then decides to introduce Harry to Lily, Remus, and Peter. (He’s gonna need the patience of a saint to not Avada Kedavra that rat on the spot.) Harry had spent the whole morning watching Sirius peel oranges and give them to you with a smitten look in his eyes — naturally, you gave whatever Sirius offered you to Harry, and each time Padfoot would visibly wilt. If he were in his Animagus form, Harry thinks he would be whining by now, tongue out and all. James and Sirius follow after you like lost puppies when you extricate yourself from the table.

“Where are you going?” James calls, hot on your heels as you leave the Great Hall.

“Away from you, Potter!” 

And James actually sighs when you turn the corner and disappear from their peripheral vision. Seconds later, he turns to Harry with a blinding smile, “She’s definitely charmed.”

Harry chortles.

“Well, come on then!” James guffaws as he wraps an arm around Harry’s neck — this is so, so strange. They begin walking in the opposite direction of where you went. “I still can’t believe we’ve got another Potter here and in Slytherin. I think I would have remembered Minnie calling your name during the Sorting Ceremony. What year are you in?” 

He’s supposed to start his sixth-year in a few weeks. “Fifth.” Technically. 

“We should ask Lily,” says Sirius, hands in his pockets and ebony ringlets tickling his nape. “She’s got the best memory out of all of us.”

It’s odd, Harry thinks, meeting the person who’s got his eyes — or the other way around, as people have told him. It’s like someone carved out the emeralds of Lily Evans’s eyes and bestowed it upon Harry for safekeeping. She sits beside Remus Lupin, head resting on his shoulder, hands clasped together, as they enjoy the shade. Nex to them, oblivious to their intimate conversation, is Peter Pettigrew — with his rosy, cherub cheeks and innocent blue eyes; not at all the image of a pathological, cowardly liar. Their heads snap in attention as James boisterously cries for their name. 

“Marauders — and Lily-pad — meet ickle Potter.” James lightheartedly whacks Harry on the back, to which Harry feels his lungs spill out from his mouth, he’s sure there’s an imprint of his father’s hand on his back now. 

“There’s two Potters in Hogwarts?” Sea-green eyes look at him in scrutiny as Lily knits her brows. “How even is the castle still standing?” 

James cackles like it’s the best joke he’s ever heard in his entire life, slapping his knee for dramatic effect. Oh, well, at least they’re buying Harry’s half-baked lie. At this point, it’s not even baked, it’s just wet, soggy, and poorly done. “Good one, Lily-pad!”

Sirius ruffles Remus’s shaggy blonde hair, canines bared in a wide grin. “This one here’s Moony, uptight prefect in the morning and absolute beast in the evening.” 

Harry blanches. Surely he was talking about his furry problem, right? Right? 

Remus doesn’t even flinch, just peels off Sirius’s hand from him and extends his hand out to Harry. “Please do not mind him. Remus Lupin, nice to meet you. Although, I can’t believe this is the first time we’ve met. We would have definitely remembered if we had another Potter in our midst.” 

“It’s true, we Potters are just hard to forget,” says James, smiling cheekily. 

Harry pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue. “Mum didn’t take the Potter name. I’m part Dursley. Muggle.” 

Lily hums, toying at the ends of her bright hair. “Dursley, huh? What a familiar name.” 

“It’s a common one,” Harry assures her — not at all the names of the people who would take him in after they died. And make his life miserable. 

“I suppose you’re right,” says Lily, unconvinced. 

“And this is Peter.” James introduces the boy eagerly, pride in his voice — as though this isn’t the person who literally allies himself with Voldemort. As if Peter won’t betray his friends all because of fear. 

“N–Nice to meet you,” Peter stammers with a nervous fidget, “Any family of James is a friend of ours.” 

Harry’s eye twitches. 

IT IS ALMOST COMICAL — the way their eyes land on your figure, bursting through the courtyard from the corridors, winter cloak swishing with every step, tendrils of hair swaying in the crisp wind, and head held up high, thick books under your arms. You pause in front of the Marauders, face blank, then you turn to Peter, greeting him with a: “Hello, only Gryffindor I can tolerate.” 

Peter’s cheeks burn a saccharine hue of pink. Oh, no, no, no — absolutely not — Harry will not stand for a little crush Peter Pettigrew has on his mother. He needs James to act now. “Hi,” Peter replies shyly. 

Lily quirks her lips. “Hello, princess, see your score for the Astronomy test yet?”

You scowl. “Zip it, Evans.” 

The sound of Lily’s laughter fills the atmosphere — it’s the sort of melody that makes flowers bloom in deserts. “Had a bit of difficulty with the star charts?” 

Sirius pinches your cheek — Harry thinks you’re going to murder him on the spot. “Difficulty? I think this one just slept through the whole thing.” 

James snickers. “Must have been one hell of a nap, princess. You were drooling on my jumper.” 

“I most certainly do not drool!” You gasp, appalled, eyes wide as you step away from Sirius.

Sirius rolls his eyes. “What? Is drooling too barbaric for the pretty, little pure-blooded princess now? Newsflash, pet, you’re just as human as we are.” 

“Oh, you horrible, loathsome, infuriating—” You whip around to beat his chest with the course book in your grasp — it’s the kind of book Hermione would consider for light reading. 

“Irresistibly attractive—?” Sirius supplies for you, grin widening with as he captures your wrist with his hands. 

“In your dreams!” You shrill. 

You exhale slowly, eyes closing, chest rising when you take a sharp inhale. You open your eyes and stare straight at Harry — for a moment he fears that you’ll bite his head off. “Harry, dear, will you accompany me to the library? I think I’ve found something important regarding your situation.” 

Harry nods. “Is it time already?” 

“Yes,” You say firmly. “And time is of the essence. Come on.” 

“Wait!” Lily calls out to you as you turn to head back to the castle, Harry in tow — he tries to avoid the way James is glaring at your linked arms. “Hogsmeade next week?” 

Your jaw falls to the ground — this must have been unrehearsed, if the others’ reactions were anything to go by; Remus had dropped his book in shock, Sirius looked like he couldn’t decide between applauding Lily’s bravery or shaking her, and James was somehow frozen in time. “Excuse me?” 

“You’re excused, princess,” says Lily, dimples poking out of her cheek as she takes another step towards you. “You, me, Hogsmeade. A date. I’m sure you’ve gone on one of those before.” 

Harry elbows your stomach as you stare at Lily in shock. It takes a few moments to break you out of your stupor. “A–And what makes you think I’ll just go with you?” 

Lily shrugs. “I’m fit. Aren’t I, Remus?” 

“The fittest,” says Remus without missing a beat. 

You laugh incredulously. “Do you just expect me to go along with this? You’re mad, Evans.” 

Harry glares at you. You need to go along with this. 

“Are you scared, princess?” Lily’s face is inches away from yours, noses almost touching — Harry doesn’t know if he should keep watching this painful way of flirting — as she grins at you, happiness barely contained within her eyes. 

To your credit, you don’t back down. (Harry has to say this for the masses: he saw your gaze flitter down to Lily’s lips for a split second.) “Stop calling me that, Evans.” 

“One date, then.” 

You growl in exasperation, eyes flickering to the boys behind her back — pretending not to hear their conversation. “I suppose I’ll have to deal with them as well?” 

Lily beams and Harry swears sunflowers could grow in her direction. “We’re a package deal.” 

“Unfortunately,” You utter — but Harry notices it, the lack of venom in your voice. You straighten your posture, nose lifted haughtily, “I choose where we’re going.” 

“Done.” The sun peeks out from the cloud just as Lily smiles at you. 

“And I want to—” 

“Done,” Remus interjects raspily, peering up at you from underneath his lashes. “Anything you want, it’s yours.” 

You fight a growing smile, but continue, “If we’re going out in public, you’re going to have to wear—” 

“Done,” says James giddily, he looks as though he could kiss you in front of everyone without a care in the world.  

“You can’t just agree to anything I say!” You flap your arms in frustration. 

“Yes, dear,” Sirius teases. 

“Do you know how much you piss me off, Black?” You squawk. “Because you are this close to—”

“You are so fucking beautiful,” Sirius confesses, every pretense shed raw from his skin, sincerity pouring from his words. 

“I—” You falter, heat rushing to your cheeks. “You’ve gone mad.” 

“It’s your fault, dove,” says James, eyes twinkling like crescent moons as he smiles. “You best take accountability for this.” 

“You’re incorrigible — all of you,” You say as you avoid their gazes.

(But they were yours. Past, present, and future. They loved you so much that their soul was no longer their own — it was yours; yours to keep, yours to break, and yours to love. It would be unjust to ask them why they loved you. Do we ask why the sun rises each day without rest? Do we ask a daisy to stop blooming, or a tree to stop growing after it has endured storms and floods? After all, we do not ask why humans follow the light in a tunnel shrouded in darkness.) 

“Come on, Harry, let’s go.” You reach for his hand, he notices immediately that the tips of your ears are pink, and your palms are warm with sweat. He barely sees Peter wave goodbye before you tug him in the direction of the castle entrance. 

“Wait up!” Remus catches up to you two in quick strides, offering to carry your books for you — not that you agree, stubborn Slytherin that you are. “I’ll walk you to the library.” 

“There’s no need for that, Lupin, thank you.” You dodge his eyes, lips tightly pressed together, nails slightly digging into Harry’s arm. 

“Remus,” He says with a twinkle. “Call me Remus.” 

“Alright.” You pause. “Remus.” 

(In that moment, Remus wonders if you remember decking Lucius Malfoy in the face to defend him in your fourth year. He didn’t think he deserved to even breathe in the same air as you — the pure-blooded princess, dressed in clothing worth more than his life, adorned in jewelry he could only dream to afford, raised to believe she was better than everyone else. Then, you beat up Evan Rosier the next month in the courtyard, eyes ablaze, extravagant silk marred with grass stains and mud, and knuckles split open. You spit blood on the ground, looking at Lily then back at Rosier. “Red,” You say, kicking him one last time in the stomach, unafraid of McGonagall’s wrath growing louder and louder. “Just like everyone else. Like those Muggleborns you fear. We’ve all got dirty blood, Rosier. Suck it up.” 

“I’ll tell your father about this!” Rosier bellows through bloody teeth. 

“Tell him!” You grab his neck and slam your forehead against his. “Tell him that I decide my own future now!”

Remus doesn’t even have to think about it. 

He falls in love.) 

FUNNILY ENOUGH, IT’S LILY who gives you her heart first, before anyone else does. It’s the last month of her first year at Hogwarts — it still hasn’t quite sunk in yet that she was a witch. Her, not Petunia, but her — Lily Evans, the witch. Apparently, some people can’t believe it either. A girl from Ravenclaw calls her this foul word, she’s heard it a few times now but it always hurts the same. James and Sirius get into a fight for her honor, now faced with detention later this evening. But she can’t help but wonder, what if they were right? What if she really didn’t belong in this world? It was too good to be true, anyway. Perhaps she’ll just run a flower boutique with Petunia.

“Oi.” 

The sound of your voice startles her, and she nearly topples over in the Great Lake. Lily catches sight of your Slytherin colors and resigns herself to another round of name-calling. “What do you want?” 

“They’re wrong, you know,” You tell her, ignoring Lily’s question. You look down on her with your nose raised arrogantly — she wishes she could be like you. Born to be magic. “You’ve got a terrifying brain locked up in your head there, Evans. And they know it, too. They’re scared.” 

Lily scoffs. “I’m just a Mudblood to them. There’s nothing to be intimidated by.” 

You sneer. “Don’t say that word. You’re more than that. More than them. They’ve got long ways to go to prove they have a place in this world. But you — you’ve defied the odds and you were destined to become magic. You don’t have to prove anything. You have the right to be in the wizarding world and no one can take that away from you.” 

Then, you pivot on your heels, not bothering to hear her reply. “You’re my rival now, Evans. Do keep up. We’ve got an Astronomy test tomorrow. I look forward to seeing how you do then.” 

Lily just gapes. She’s certain there’s butterflies in her stomach. Her heart thumps wildly against her ribcage. Lily raises her hands to feel her blushing cheeks. There’s a light unfamiliar sensation in her stomach — like the urge to kick her legs and scream into a pillow, or more precisely, chase after you and hold your hand.

She stiffens.

Oh.

part two

[minghaoes]

pouty cuddles [drabble]

mingyu comes home after a day of filming gose and everyone's been meaner to him than usually. what else could he need than being in your arms and dramatically complain about his members, who he loves dearly?

TAGS: kim mingyu x gn!reader, fluff, established relationship, the members are mean to mingyu but he's handling it like a champ (he isn't)

WORD COUNT: 800 words

a/n: my first seventeen fic !! i haven't written fanfics in a minute and i'm a bit rusty so it's shorter than what i will post in the future, but i hope that y'all will enjoy it nevertheless :) please let me know what you think and happy reading !!

Mingyu was pouting. His lower lip was slightly puffed, his cheeks looked a little rounder than they usually did, and his eyes, his eyes were big and brown as they looked right into yours. His head was resting on your chest close to your chin, and Mingyu could not stop staring at your face. His arms were wrapped around your waist, and he seemed comically small in that moment. 

Your left hand softly caressed the warm skin on his back, as the fingers on your right slowly played with his curls. Mingyu sighed quietly and leaned into your touch, not before exaggerating his pout just a little bit more. It was enough to make you coo at him and press a butterfly kiss on the tip of his nose.

“They were mean to me,” Mingyu said, the pout ever so evident in his voice. You suppressed a laugh and indulged in his behaviour. “Who was mean to you, baby?”

Mingyu closed his eyes at the pet name and pressed his body even closer to yours. His body felt heavy on yours, but still comfortable. The warmth radiating from his body was enough to keep you warm, to keep you happy. 

“The members,” he mumbled, and shuffled a bit further up. Nuzzling his face into your neck, he complained: “They said I’m always scared.”

It took you a lot of self restraint to not start laughing. Granted, Mingyu had not been telling you what today’s episode was about, but considering you know how your boyfriend behaved in certain situations, the members’ statement was not that far off from the truth. Yet, the pout on Mingyu’s face was enough to have you reconsider agreeing with them, even playfully. Instead, you opted for lightly scratching his head and pressing a kiss on top of his hair. “My poor baby.”

“Yes, I am,” Mingyu nodded. His lips grazed the skin of your neck and you smiled, hugging him closer to your chest. In response, Mingyu hummed and kissed the same spot softly. He kept kissing you over and over again, until he started speaking again.

“I’m not actually mad at them,” he confessed, and you hummed, “Who would have thought.”

“HOWEVER,” he interrupted you sassily, another pout already forming on his plush lips, “I’m not scared of everything.”

You smiled at him, but Mingyu only furrowed his eyebrows. Your right hand wandered further down from his hair to his forehead, to massage the worry line gently. 

“I’m not scared of being with you,” Mingyu confessed quietly. His eyes flickered back down, feeling less confident now that you reciprocated his gaze. “I’m not scared of committing to you. To give myself to you.”

It was your turn to furrow your eyebrows now. You tried to sit up straight, but Mingyu would not let you. Instead, you opted for hugging him with both of your arms around his neck. 

“Where’s that coming from, darling?”

Mingyu whined and put his head back into place right in the crease of your neck, right on top of your shoulder. 

“Just been thinking ‘bout marriage a lot lately, that’s all,” he replied casually, not knowing that the simple words made your heart beat just a little bit faster than it already did. 

“Yeah?” you replied breathlessly, trying your best to maintain your breathing. Mingyu nodded again, sounding a bit more insecure this time. “If that’s what you’re considering too. No pressure if you’re not interested. I mean, I would be hurt by it, but I respect any decision you might mak-” 

Giggling, you pulled Mingyu’s head up to press a kiss on his lips. Your hand was holding his cheek and caressing the soft skin below your fingertips. In turn, Mingyu’s eyes returned to your face, the same big and brown eyes you had grown to love. The pout was evident on his lips again, and in response, you kissed him over and over again, until the lovesick frown returned to his brows, his eyes softer than you have ever seen them.

“Of course I’ve been thinking about it too,” you admitted, pressing another kiss on the tip of his nose. Mingyu turned his head upwards, trying to catch your lips with his. He whined when you pulled away, his lips returning to his natural pout. 

“Baby,” he said, his eyes switching back and forth between your eyes and your lips, “that’s unfair. I’m still sad. Why are all of you always mean to me?”

You cooed and littered his entire face with kisses. Mingyu giggled at your antics and sighed contentedly. For now, you did not have to know that his members had been nagging him about proposing to you. The box he was hiding in his sock drawer was also completely unrelated to his theatrics. 

[catcze]

#MULTI — The excuse he uses to hold your hand wc: 0.7 fluff, teasing, established relationship, hand holding !! — How's he gonna get out of this one?

Reblogs are greatly appreciated !!

It catches you by surprise— where you had both just been walking along, enjoying the atmosphere, the touch of his fingers weaving between yours is something you hadn't been expecting.

It wasn't unwelcome, though. Far from it.

The tangent you had been rambling on about trails away like leaves in the wind as you blink down at the hand that gasps yours securely. Beside you, he carries on as if there were no such change, even having the gall to raise his eyebrow when he notices you falling silent.

"You were saying?" he asks, as if to prompt you back into your ramble, but you practically bulldoze over his faux nonchalance by squeezing his hand and waving it between you two.

"Oh, look at you, being so forward," you tease, swinging your hands back and forth. "I'm not at all complaining, but, well, I didn't think you'd be so bold."

He huffs at you a bit, eyes narrowed in an expression that you'd dare say is petulant. Maybe even flustered. The first thing out of his mouth is—

"It looked like you wanted to hold hands. I'm just saving you the trouble of asking." He says, gaze not meeting your own, but hand still firmly holding yours. You have to fight back an amused smile.

When you teasingly try to let your hand slip out from his, relaxing your grip, his own immediately tightens. His narrowed, accusatory gaze snaps to yours so fast that for a second you worry he might injure his neck.

"Uh huh, you keep telling yourself that," you tease, sidling up close enough that you can nudge him with your shoulder.

It's cute, you think, how he immediately leans closer to you when you come near. Like he's not even aware he does it, like his body just wants to be closer to you. When he realizes what happened, there's a moment where his eyes widen— then his gaze is trained on the path in front, decidedly not making eye contact. Cute, you think again.

"i like holding hands with you, you know" you tell him tenderly, quietly— a sweet secret just between the two of you. You squeeze his hand and, unhesitatingly, he squeezes back. "I wouldn't mind doing it more often."

And oh, he hopes you don't notice the heat to his cheeks, and the darkening of the tips to his ears. Hopes you don't notice the quirk to the edges of his lips that he just. can't. keep. down. Hopes you don't make out how damn pleased he sounds when he says, "If that's what you want," knowing that it's exactly what he wants, too.

— Scaramouche / Wanderer, Xiao, Cyno, Boothill, Dr. Ratio, Alhaitham

"Why? Am I not allowed to?" Comes his teasing response, making you roll your eyes.

"You know that's not what I meant," you grumble, playfully punching his arm, knowing that you did little to no actual damage. Still, he pretends to wince and rub the area you hit, grimacing.

"No need to get violent," he says, "You're hurting my feelings, love."

"You're awful," you tell him.

"And yet you've still yet to let go of my hand," he reminds you all-too-happily, raising said hand to his lips and pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

At the gesture, a tingle runs up your spine and butterflies come to life in your stomach— you wonder if he can hear the frantic pulse in your wrist, if he can see the way you cover up how damn flustered you are with a scowl.

You hate hate hate the way he's turned the tables on you— how he's managed to turn what was supposed to be you teasing him into him turning you into a gooey mess yet again. And yet...

"Oh shut up and keep walking," you say in defeat, not able to look him in the eye. You might just combust on the spot if you do.

He sounds all too pleased as he lets your hands drop between you two, fingers still weaved together, swinging your joint hands easily to the breeze.

There's a smile to his voice when he says— "Whatever you say, beloved."

— Wriothesley, Jing Yuan, Argenti, Childe, Ayato, Kazuha, Lyney

[tarot-bimbo]

Pick a pileく⁠コ⁠:⁠彡

How does your future spouse flirt?

1. 2. 3.

•°•^•°•^•°•^•°•^•°•^•°•^•°•^•°•^•°•^•°•^•°•^•°•^

Pile 1

I see them being a little toxic but in a good way like more so In a teasing manner. He would like to show off his muscles and pick you up ya know do pushups with you on his back🥴. I can see him being very romantic nothing too much when he kisses you it's really fast and deep. After the first kiss he's working fast to get you in bed I don't think it's that hard tho 🤣 you fall for this persons face they may have a cute little doll face or just be really pretty to you and that's what you like. They like buying you things bracelets and stuff may even get you a necklace with something very special to the both of you on it. They may spy on you? They call that flirting I guess 😜. They like taking you on plenty of dates , anywhere you say you want to go the next day he will surprise you and take you. You may complain about work and he would give you a massage to help you lose stress. They definitely like doing your hair if they do that. They could simply like to cuddle and watch a movie they just like spending time with you doing anything. Your person really likes physical touching so anytime you two are touching they are definitely flirting.

( I hope this pile resonates with you. I love you☄️)

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Pile 2

He loves to worship you like anything you want you can have it 2 times. He loves spending large amounts of money on you even if it's dumb shit and you don't need it but simply because you can. I see you might be a little spoiled it's giving daddy's little girl 🫣. He loves to take you on far away trips I am seeing when Aladdin took Jasmine and showed her a whole new world 🌎. They also fix things for you like let's say the cabinet door fell off in 5min it's back up. Believe me this dude wasted no time trying to make you happy . Anything that makes you happy he will get you even if it seems impossible HE WILL MAKE IT HAPPEN honestly he's such a sweet guy🥹.

( I hope this pile resonates with you. I love you☄️)

•°•^•°•^•°•^•°•^•°•^•°•^•°•^•°•^•°•^•°•^•°•^•°•^

Pile 3

Your future is very shyyyy 🫣 so I don't see a whole lot of like physical touching. I think you two are like dating online 😂 I see a lot of flirty text. I think you both are very shy and that's why I am barely getting any info 😅. Or they are a very closed off person in General. I do see them really wanting to hold hands tho and like other soft things. I can feel the blush all over my face literally flushed with fever 🥵. I think they find you too beautiful to even touch at times and just want to keep you safe and clean like a porcelain doll. He likes to keep you dolled up all like a princess you both may be into dressing like royalty. Roleplay?

( I hope this pile resonates with you. I love you☄️)

•°•^•°•^•°•^•°•^•°•^•°•^•°•^•°•^•°•^•°•^•°•^•°•^

Hope you enjoyed your pile♡

[finalgirllx]

thunderstorms

took some heavy liberties with week 3 of @thatdammchickennugget and i's jinxed july challenge to write the forced proximity mattheo riddle fic of my dreams. i hope you enjoy it just as much as i do. and also big thanks to @pizzaapeteer for proofing, i love you! 2.5k words | fluff? i think | f!reader implied

Snap. Another twig breaks underneath the tattered soles of your shoes while you continue the trek along the less-traveled grove. The air is thick with the scent of wildflowers and earth, and sunlight filters down on you through the leafy branches, casting shadows on the greenery that litters the forest floor. It is pristine, seemingly unaffected by too much human activity. 

That is until Mattheo and you embarked on an increasingly futile mission imposed by your one common interest - your mutual friend Enzo. He had eagerly insisted that it be the two of you that forage for an ingredient native to the area, claiming that adding it to a drink mix can get you wasted quicker than any brew sold in shops.

The pair of you had done well not to stumble too far from Enzo's parents' summer home. A generous invitation had been offered to your friend's group - a chance to relax and kick back there over the long weekend. A relatively secluded area, it is sparsely populated by second homes of the upper class or rickety cabins so old that not even magic can prevent them from slowly succumbing to the elements. Everyone tries to enjoy the spoils of the location's offerings, as it is a sweet spot to spend the few warmer months in Britain.

"Y'know, I am not an outdoorsy guy," Mattheo complains after another branch scrapes his forearm. "This is the dumbest mission Enzo could have sent us on."

"At least we can agree on one thing," you mutter exasperatedly. "I should have known you'd have no sense of your lefts and rights."

Two steps ahead of you, Mattheo pauses and looks back, his expression suggesting, 'You want to go there?' His brows raise, and his chocolate curls still fall perfectly over his forehead despite endless collisions with twigs and branches. Honestly, you were unsure if his looks or personality irked you more. You glare back so he knows exactly how you feel about the situation.

"Right, take no accountability for being one-half of why we are still out here," Mattheo responded in kind, then turning back to continue leading the way.

"You are rid-"

"Ridiculously handsome? I know. Come up with some new material, sweetheart," Mattheo interrupts with his unending cocky attitude. Preparing to unleash more insults, you are startled by the feeling of a cold drop on your head. Then another. And another.

A loud clap echoes above, booming in the sky, followed shortly by the rapid motion of overcast clouds moving in, blocking out any remaining sunlight. A second roar of thunder bursts, sending out another warning that a storm is fast approaching. The sudden singular drop quickly builds into a consistent shower, and the panic sets in over the both of you. Mattheo takes charge, gesturing for you to follow him and for once, you decide to take his lead without talking back, which might have been a mistake as you continue deeper into the forest and further away from the house.

Minutes felt like hours under the increasingly ceaseless downpour as you and Mattheo scrambled through the grove. Finally spotting an old cabin structure, you make a break for it and dash underneath the awning for some reprieve. Mattheo vigorously jiggles the knob of the dilapidated door, seeming to forget his wizarding abilities. Propelled by a clash of thunder, you watched Mattheo resort to brute force, managing to barrel through the door and get you two inside. 

Solely focused on escaping the pouring sky, you follow him in while heaving from the chaos.

"Nice going, genius," you admonished Mattheo while catching your breath. "Forget a first-year unlocking charm?"

"Ungrateful as ever," Mattheo responds gruffly, his amusement overshadowed by temporary exhaustion as he steps over and shuts the door that is barely held up on its hinges. "See? I got you out of the rain, and the door still works." 

The two of you take some time to shake yourselves off in a meager effort to eliminate that soaked feeling. Squeezing out your top,  you silently curse at the unpleasantness of your damp hair that now clings to your face. You looked over and watched Mattheo shaking his head, his hair splattering leftover water all over the vicinity.

"You're like a wet dog," you feign disgust, unable to resist a chance to tease.

"What else am I expected to do?" Mattheo countered, brushing his hands through his hair and hoping for the best.

"Be more tasteful with it," you suggested, suppressing a snort afterward at your own poor choice of words.

"Tasteful? You seriously went with tasteful?" Mattheo caught on, his disgruntled look from the uncomfortable wet transforming into a grin. "Bloody hell, sweetheart, I know you love my perfect curls, but that really is the least of my concerns." 

You coped by turning away to continue drying yourself off, hoping he did not see your disconcerted expression.

Once Mattheo reached a state of dampness he could live with, he stepped toward the intact windows to watch the storm outside. It was miraculous that a cabin as worse for wear as this one held its own against the onslaught.

"Well, we might be stuck here for some time. I suggest you get comfortable," Mattheo announced with a resigned sigh, glancing back to the room for potential spots to sit or, more accurately, the lack thereof. "The floor. The floor will do."

He follows through, eyeing spaces on the rickety floorboards to settle down. You roll your eyes at the idea, though the increasing weight of your legs after all that running starts to wear on you and beckon you down. So you give in, finding your own spot to settle, a perfectly reasonable distance from him. His eyes bore into you with an unreadable expression, a bit too analytical for your comfort. You are not too fond of him watching your every move. Not at all.

"Could you look elsewhere? I am not your prey to stalk," you finally snap. 

"What? This is just how I look at things. You cannot blame me; it is either you or the rotting walls," Mattheo retorts, emphasizing his point with a gesture of his hands.

"Your eyes are… they look too hard!" you complain amidst a struggle to find the right way to explain why his gaze ruffled you so much.

"Too hard? She thinks I look too hard, whatever the hell that means. Salazar, help us, a true wordsmith in the midst," Mattheo complained to himself, ensuring his frustration was loud enough to invite further squabbling.

"I am just saying! Look elsewhere!" you insisted.

"I can't help it. You are more interesting-looking," Mattheo justified through gritted teeth, his increasing annoyance evident.

"Interesting-looking? And you accuse me of being unable to talk today. Is that meant to be a compliment?"

"Tell me you would not have my head if I called you pretty, so interesting it is!" Mattheo growled in a harsh but earnest tone. He shook his head, jaw clenched to the point of discomfort over what he admitted. Just to add to the pettiness, he scooted to face even further away from your direction.

This development undoubtedly took you by surprise, silencing you momentarily in your conversation. You always had a comeback for Mattheo, but this was the first time you had absolutely no clue how to retaliate.

"Pretty?" you repeated, pushing aside your dignity to clarify you had heard correctly.

"Yes, pretty," Mattheo confirmed, his voice huskier than the bellowing moments prior. "Is that such a shock to you?"

It honestly did feel like a shock. In all the time you had known each other, the words you exchanged were cheeky at best and plain disrespectful at worst. A more tender way of describing you was not something you expected to come from Mattheo at all.

"It is. I thought I was just your favorite punching bag," you admitted. 

"Oh, please. Do you honestly believe I would answer you at all if I really could not stand you? Perhaps you are more dimwitted than I initially presumed."

"I just thought—"

"And given that I have seen you quite literally punch some poor bloke who truly bothered you, I assumed you fell into a similar train of thought, no?"

Hell, you hated it when he was right. Something about Mattheo kept you coming back for more in a way that couldn't simply be attributed to the proximity of your friend group. The feelings creeping up inside you now had less to do with being stuck in a cabin with him through a storm and more with how this predicament forced you to come to terms with how you truly felt. You visibly shifted where you sat as feelings you had no clue how to handle washed over you more intensely than the rain still pouring outside.

Mattheo rose again without warning and stalked around the cabin, this time on a mission.

"What are you doing?"

"A blanket, a towel. Something to warm you up," he replied, his attention fixed on his newfound goal, which was an insatiable need to help and protect you in your wetted state. 

"You do not have to! It will probably be full of mildew should you even find one," you protested through your sheer surprise at his kind gesture.

Initially written off as too damp to use, the fireplace centered on the cabin's back wall was suddenly vital to Mattheo's mission. Finally remembering that he was a wizard, Mattheo reached into his back pocket, pulled out his wand, and crouched in front of the fireplace.

"Incendio…" he spoke the incantation, causing a flame to spout from his wand toward the firewood on top of the grate, hoping they were not too far gone from the elements.

To your shared relief, a small fire came to life before your eyes, its glow brightening your dampened spirits which was soon followed by an embrace of its much-needed heat. 

"Yes!" Mattheo hissed excitedly, hurriedly gesturing you to come closer, and you did. The previous distance you had created no longer mattered, as you were now shoulder-to-shoulder with him for a chance to enjoy the warmth provided by the lit fireplace.

With the both of you too focused on warming up by the crackling flames and learning to ignore the blaring storm outside, peaceful silence hung in the air. A mutual respect arose between you as you ruminated over the afternoon's events.

You glanced at Mattheo, whose shoulder you were now definitely pressed against, and seized the opportunity to check him out shamelessly. He was right; that penetrative gaze remained even in his resting state. The light from the fire highlighted the warmth in his eyes that usually matched the dark of night, and his brown locks that had dried into bouncy coils perfectly suited his chiseled structure. The last remaining baby fat on his cheeks softened his enigmatic look, especially in more calm instances such as this. Few were treated to such a view of him, let alone have the capacity to appreciate it like you did. Wait - appreciating him? He seems to catch on simultaneously, the corners of his lips twitching in satisfaction over your turn to gaze.

"I am not your prey to stalk," he abruptly spoke up in a high-pitched, mocking tone to mimic your previous dramatics. You pushed your shoulder against him further as a hollow threat to get him to quit his teasing.

"You look too hardddd."

"Stopppp," you plead, pressing against him again, which causes him to turn to you finally. That stupid, intense gaze again was now much too close for comfort.

Mattheo scoops your hands into his larger, calloused ones, suddenly enclosing yours. He begins rubbing them, his touch creating a friction that warms your fingers, and despite your confusion, you don't immediately pull away.

"What are you doing?"

"Trying to warm you up."

"It is still summer. They are not that cold, really…"

"Let me just have this excuse to hold your hands," Mattheo says hushedly, shutting down all of your protests. His touch is comforting, so you allow it.

"Forward this evening, are we?" you still can not resist asking with a raised brow.

"Maybe. But when else will we be trapped for a night like this?" Mattheo was right again, blasted. The bubbling chemistry was now utterly unavoidable, and this night was simply the catalyst for this new beginning.

Still, it was so recent that you likely would not change your behavior towards each other once you returned to your friends, who were probably worried sick about your whereabouts. The storm was still raging, so you just accepted that it would be easier to call it a night instead of waiting for it to pass or even worse; risking your safety by trudging through it. You silently agreed with Mattheo to let this evening run its natural course, showing your reciprocated feelings by allowing him to continue creating friction with your hands via a similar technique used to make a fire.

The rest of the evening went by uneventfully as you cozied up to each other, finding yourself leaning more into him as your lids grew heavier with tiredness.

Mattheo took on the role of a pillow, pressing his back to the floor and letting you lay against him, going as far as draping your leg over his and resting your head on his chest. The resistant part of you wanted to claim this was merely to survive the night, but Merlin, he was easy to sink into. No longer fighting the call of rest, your last conscious moment was the feeling of Mattheo pressing a soft kiss to your forehead before sleep took over.

—-------------

The chirping of birds and light rays seeping into the small windows of the cabin signaled it was time to wake up. You two had stayed wrapped up in each other for the night, which was probably the sole reason you felt at all rested.

The warm embrace of Mattheo kept you tucked cozily into his arms, providing a warmth that was now overwhelmingly hot in the morning summer heat. Suddenly, the chatter of approaching voices traveled around the hollowness of the cabin before the distinctive voice of Enzo called out. "It only took a dangerous thunderstorm to bring you two together," he remarked, a wicked grin matching his chirpy tone. You looked up to meet his gaze through the cracked window, which illuminated your intimate position with Mattheo. The cheeky disturbance startled Mattheo awake with a jump, groaning at the loud intrusion of his mates' voices.

You observed through squinted eyes as Mattheo and Enzo began quarreling. Amidst the light-hearted chaos, you heard snippets like 'It's not what it looks like!' and 'The ingredients search was a load of bollocks, wasn't it?' The goal to save face came second to your relief at rejoining your friends.

A ruse that had gotten way out of hand landed you in the last place you would have expected this morning, but the possibilities it offered left you nervous but hopeful. You watched a bit longer before stretching and getting up to join, armed with your own silly defenses over why you were caught in Mattheo's arms as the lot of you made your way back to the summer home.

[ham-st4r]

𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎 - 𝙻. 𝙷𝚎𝚎𝚜𝚎𝚞𝚗𝚐

Pairing: heeseung + female reader

Warnings: smut, unprotected sex, dirty talk, cursing, cum eating, blow job, multiple orgasms, angst, pet names, daddy kink, breeding kink, reader and hee have sex in a classroom.

Summary: heeseung is still determined to get into your pants after months of “wowing” you and showering you with gifts and compliments. He’s successful all, though his charm isn’t exactly what makes you say yes to him. It’s more for you and the fact that once you finally give him what he wants, he can finally leave you alone once and for all.

Wordcount: 2,328k

Note: I am finally getting over this sickness, so I thought I might just give you guys a lil sum sum hope you enjoy!

Find your way around!

“Hey beautiful,” Heeseung approached you at your locker door like he was just the sweetest, nicest guy on earth.

He wasn’t.

He was just a horny guy that would do and say anything to stick his dick inside someone, and that someone just happened to be you. For the last couple of months, he’d come up to you, giving you flowers, buying you candy, sweet talking to you, even going as far as to compliment you when you got new nails or a new hairstyle. It sounds flattering, and any other time it is, but because it’s lee heeseung with a manwhore with a bad reputation, it’s not flattering, and if anything, it’s disgusting.

“Thank you, heeseung,” you say in a sing-song tone while shutting your locker and getting ready to leave school for the day.

“You’re welcome, baby. I bought this for you.” he drops a little piece of candy inside your blazer pocket, standing a little too close, trapping you between his body and your locker. If he’s doing that to try to turn you on, it’s definitely working cause no matter how much of a douche he is, he’s still incredibly fucking hot. “You’re so pretty all the time. Can barely keep my eyes off you.” he grips your chin, tilting your head so you can look up at him while stroking your cheek with his thumb.

Instead of telling him to fuck off like you usually do, you played into it this time just for the fun of it. “Just wanna be pretty for you, Daddy” You blinked your lashes at him innocently, and he cursed under his breath, imagining you looking like that under him while he stuffed you full of his cock.

“Baby, you are so pretty.” he leaned down, giving you plenty of time to stop him, and when you didn’t, he placed a gentle kiss on your cheek. “Such a good girl getting all pretty for your daddy. I think you deserve a reward for that, don’t you?”

You reached your hand down, placing it on his cock, and you were surprised when you felt how hard he already was. “Please, Daddy,” you pouted, stroking his length up and down through his baggy blue jeans.

He didn’t show it, but he was in shock. Was he really gonna get a taste of you? After months of you rejecting and him trying to get at you, you were gonna let him have his chance just like that? Don’t get him wrong. He wasn’t complaining. He’s been wanting it for so so long. “Fuck baby, daddy’s going treat you real good.”

“You promise, Daddy?” You give him puppy eyes and a soft voice, watching him lose all his self-control by the second.

“Promise,” he moans when you squeeze him through his jeans. He ducks his head down, kissing on your neck. You knew you shouldn’t give your body to him but fuck it, he was hot. You heard he had a good dick game, and plus, after this, he’d leave you alone, so it’s a win-win. “Come on, little one time for your reward.”

He took you by your wrist, leading you to a vacant classroom. He quickly sat down in one of the many empty chairs. “On your knees for Daddy,” he smirks when you obey, lowering yourself onto your knees. He wonders what changed before you acted like you’d never give him the time of day, and now you’re willingly on your knees unzipping his pants and pulling his cock out of his boxers, but he really didn’t care what’s changed all that matters was your hand wrapping around his girth as you pump him slowly. “Hmm,” he groans, his hand going straight for your hair as he pushes some strands behind your ear. “You like it?” He whispers softly as you admire his fully hardened length that is dripping sticky precum.

You moaned. His dick was so pretty and pink. “yes, Daddy, so big” You looked up at him, eyes blinking innocently as you took in all of his inches, hollowing out your cheeks and breathing through your nose as you started bobbing your head the wet smacking sound’s immediately bouncing off the classrooms walls.

“Fuck you’re taking it so deep already” he spread his legs open further, and he couldn’t resist the urge to buck his hips a few times, gagging you with the tip. “Oh shit,” he gripped the back of your head, pushing down lightly to set a good pace. “That’s daddy’s good little princess.” he throws his head back, eyes closing shut while you continue pleasuring between his legs.

You put your hands on his thighs, squeezing them every time you gagged on his enormous cock.

Your moans reverberated all through his shaft, making everything feel so much more pleasing. “Faster,” he whispers, searching for his release as his cock drags along the length of your tight wet throat.

Your eyes began to water, and he simply swiped away the tears blurring your vision, continuously fucking his cock down your neck. “Almost there, pretty, doing so good, daddy.” All the other times he called you pretty or beautiful, it did absolutely nothing for you.

But you can’t say the same for right now. The rough hoarseness of his voice made you feel something in your lower tummy. Hearing him call you that while moaning and grunting was so attractive and embarrassingly enough, you could feel yourself leaking down there already.

“Fuck baby, how do you make it feel so good,” he says in awe this was by far the best head he’s ever received from anyone, and he was about to cum in record time. “Cumming baby,” he says through strained moans. His hips jerk up off the chair more than just a few times as his cum spurts out in white hot ropes. “Fuck yes,” he grits through his teeth while you keep sucking even after he comes, his body shuddering in bliss.

You savor the taste of his salty cum, and to you, that was the best reward you could have ever gotten.

He helped you off the ground, guiding your wet, messy core to sit on his lap. “You liking the reward so far?” he messily kisses your lips, the taste of his cum still lingering in your mouth, turning him on even more.

“Hmm, yes,” you said in between kisses.

“You’re gonna like it even more real soon” He reached between your bodies, pulling up your little skirt and pushing your soiled panties to the side so you could sit fully naked on his dick. “This pussy is so wet” he slides you back and forth on his cock, lubing himself in your arousal.

You moan into his mouth shamelessly, your body moving on its own as you hump his naked cock for some friction. “Please put it in” Your mind is spinning just from the feeling of his cock brushing against your clit. You’re so needy, so desperate for his cock that you don’t even need any prep to take him inside cause you were literally soaking.

“You sure you’re good? We only just started, princess” You bury your face in his neck, inhaling his cologne as you mumble out a tiny yes, slightly embarrassed by how wet you got just from sucking his dick. You could literally hear the sticky sounds your conjoined bodies made, and it was not discrete at all. “Okay,” he says breathlessly as you kiss and suck on his neck.

He pushed down on the base of his cock, pressing the tip on your entrance. “Up,” he commands, and you lift yourself up slightly while he lines you up perfectly. All you have to do now is sit down, and you’ll be stuffed full of him. “Down,” he breathes out, preparing himself to feel your sweet wet pussy.

A shaky breath leaves your lips as you wrap your arms around his neck, your legs trembling from the feeling of him being inside of you.

“There you go.” he kissed your temple as you sat down on him, and it felt like he was in your stomach. That’s how full you felt. “That’s it,” he sighs in pleasure.

“Heeseung,” you mewl, biting softly on his neck while slowly bouncing on his dick.

“Fuck ride it just like that” he spanked your ass, the sting making you clench tighter on his dick. “So fucking warm,” he grunts, hands squeezing your tight little ass helping you ride him.

Your brain was empty. The only thing you could focus on was his warm throbbing cock going in and out of your slick pussy so perfectly. “Oh my god daddy.”

“You like daddy’s cock, huh baby?” He whispers in your ear, breath heavy with lust as he sticks out his tongue, lapping at the shell of your ear.

You respond by standing on your tippy toes, gaining a better angle to ride him faster now, the sounds of your thighs colliding with his enter the room along with the rest of the lewd wet sounds your bodies produce. “Hmm, mmm fuck it just like that, there you go, bounce on that dick, princess” You pursed your lips, eyebrows furrowed as his tip burrowed itself deep in your cunt, and you don’t ever want him to pull out. You want his thick cock buried to the hilt inside you forever. He just felt too good for your kind to comprehend.

“Yeah? Like that daddy?” Your moans sound like they’re straight out of an adult film, and the way his cock twitches lets you know he’s feeling good.

“Yeah, just like that,” he grunts, one hand moving from your ass to your neglected clit, circling it so you can cum relatively close together cause he knows he gonna cave before you, and he can’t help it. Your pussy feels like magic. “Look at it” he smirks lazily and looks down to where his cock is splitting you right in two, and the sight is definitely one to see. You lowered your head, your forehead brushing against his as you see the filthy creamy mess between your bodies. “Daddy’s gotta cum, princess,” he whispers and searches for your lips, connecting them in the sloppiest kiss exchanging obscene amounts of saliva as you groan into each other's mouths like you just can’t get enough, and you really can’t cause it feels so good too fucking good for it to be over seconds later you spill around him gushes of your arousal coating his thick juicy cock while he spills inside you filling you up until there’s nowhere left for it to go except out of your clenching stretched hole.

He unexpectedly lifts you up effortlessly, laying you down on the table in front of him so he can fuck up into you and stuff you full of his cum, breeding you the way needs to his lips, never leaving yours for a second and no wonder why there’s so many rumors about him being good in bed because he is he so fucking big and so good this was literally the best sex you’ve ever had. “FUCK!” he breathes out, finally breaking the kiss and opting to nibble on your neck instead while he catches his breath because, wow, that was some really good fucking mind-blowing sex.

His thrusts come to a gradual stop, a few little whimpers and moans coming from the both of you as you fight to catch your breaths.

Neither of you two say anything while you gather your thoughts. When he turns soft, he slips out of you, his cum immediately running down your thighs, and you flush with embarrassment. His ears burn from the sight as he pulls his pants back up.

He looks around the room for something to clean you off with, but there’s nothing, so without much thought, he drops to his knees, tongue darting out to lick up the stream of his and your cum.

You gasp when you feel his hot tongue running along your thighs. He chuckles softly. You could barely comprehend what was actually happening, and before you knew it, he was pushing your panties back to their original spot and straightening out your skirt after his method of cleaning you up.

He stands up, licking his lips with a small smirk on his face. “All clean,” he smiles, quirking his brow. “So..” he placed his hands on your waist. “How about you let daddy take you out? Hmm, princess, what do you say?” He usually never even thought about dating the girls he hooked up with, but you, oh, he definitely needed to have you again and get to know you because, damn, you have the best pussy and mouth he’s ever felt, and maybe he felt a little something different with you than all the rest.

He goes in for another kiss, and you place your index finger on his forehead, pushing him back. “Not a chance,” you laugh straight in his face. His hands drop from your waist, and his smile soon drops as well.

He may have had a nice face and an ever nicer dick, but he was still a douche, one that you’d never find yourself ever getting involved with.

You make your way out of the empty classroom, blowing him a kiss on the way out, leaving him confused and speechless at your blatant rejection.

He wasn’t used to being rejected, given he hadn’t had a real relationship or ever even asked anyone out, and if he was being honest, it didn’t feel too good. He’s usually a confident guy, and he thought he looked fairly decent, so he assumed you’d say yes to him. Plus, you seemed to enjoy his company, but apparently, not that rejection was a little harsh, especially on his self-esteem, but he put that in the back of his mind. At least he got his one chance with you.

Permanent taglist🔖 @hoyeonheeseung @furious-eagle @heeseungssidechick @hee-pster

Thank you for reading. Please reblog and leave feedback. - 🐹

[violetwolfraven]

Wait wait wait remember that post about how Team Starkid/the Lang brothers are going to be comparable to Shakespeare 500 years from now and it was mostly played for laughs like yeah lol you’ll need a paragraph of footnotes to explain the zefron poster but like

I don’t think that’s actually far off from how Starkid’s place in theatre history might play out and here’s why. Just hear me out

Why is Shakespeare so popular today when he definitely wasn’t the only playwright from that era? When he’s not even the only playwright from that era from England that we have surviving works from?

Two main reasons:

1) Shakespeare’s work is (relatively) universally relatable. The characters do things that are so fundamentally human. They make jokes at their friends’ expense. They complain about being awkward in front of their crush. They have daddy issues. The plot lines of the plays aren’t too complicated. The dick jokes land whether you’re watching in 1611 or 2024, and they probably still will in 2637. Shakespeare’s works are timeless because he didn’t try to outsmart his audience. He wrote about things everyone could relate to rather than trying too hard to peacock his intellect in front of the nobility. This is not true of every playwright.

2) Shakespeare was really popular right around the time England started colonizing everything in sight. Copies of his work got shipped all around the world, translated into dozens of languages, performed probably thousands of times. Setting aside the moral implications of this, the important thing to note is that Shakespeare was about the most easily accessible English playwright during a time of rapid, intense globalization.

Meanwhile, Starkid:

1) Invests hard in meaningful, relatable character arcs instead of spectacle and expensive sets or costumes. Also, lowbrow, immature humor and dick jokes that make A Very Potter Sequel funny and enjoyable regardless of if you’ve ever seen any other Harry Potter media in your life.

2) Posts professional recordings of their musicals to YouTube FOR FREE, making their shows about the easiest, best quality musical theatre you can get pretty much anywhere in the world, regardless of if your area has an active theatre scene. Proshots from other companies are rare and usually not free. Bootlegs are all well and good, but even if the video quality is alright (and that’s a big if) the audio is usually garbage. Starkid has been posting the best quality free recordings they can afford since 2009, shortly after the birth of social media, another time of rapid, intense globalization.

In short, I’m not saying that theatre historians in 500 years won’t remember any our current Broadway faves, but I am saying that in my opinion, Team Starkid is probably going to be more accessible for the general public. If you’re a 26th century English teacher trying to teach your class about narrative structure in 21st century theatre, what are you going to show your students? A bootleg of Hadestown with blurry video and garbage audio? Or the professional recording of Twisted, parts of which they will probably even enjoy, because even long after no one remembers Disney’s Aladdin anymore, your class of 26th century 16-year-olds are still going to laugh at “No One Remembers Achmed.”

[moonmaiden1996]

Paws, Pouts, and a Pettiness

Honestly, I have loved writing these little stories! I have written about five these week to keep me sane! I hope you enjoy.

The late afternoon sun filtered through the canopy of trees, scattering warm golden light over the camp. By the small river at its edge, you knelt, gently scrubbing the dirt from Scratch’s fur. The loyal dog wagged his tail in sheer bliss, his bright eyes fixed on you with a look of unwavering trust.

"Such a good boy," you murmured, working soap into his coat. Your fingers paused now and then to scratch behind his ears, earning a pleased huff as he leaned into your touch. His happiness was infectious, and you found yourself smiling at his unguarded joy.

However, that happiness that did not extent to a certain pointing ears of elf. Not far off, Astarion stood leaning against a tree, arms crossed, his crimson eyes narrowing as he watched the scene. The sunlight dappled your damp skin, each droplet shimmering like it had been purposefully placed to torment him. His sharp gaze moved between you and the dog—a dog!—receiving care and affection that, in his not-so-humble opinion, should have been reserved entirely for him.

He let out an exaggerated sigh, shaking his head. What did that mutt have that he didn’t? His hair was better, his presence infinitely more captivating, and he certainly didn’t leave muddy paw prints everywhere. And yet here you were, lavishing care on that slobbering beast.

With a swirl of his crimson cloak, he strode toward you, his boots crunching against the leaf-strewn ground. As he approached, you glanced up at the sound, and to your surprise, his usual smirk was absent. In its place was a dramatic pout, his expression a masterful blend of wounded pride and exaggerated heartbreak.

"Darling," he began, his voice dripping with theatrical despair. "Tell me it isn’t true. Have I truly been replaced? Is my endless devotion not enough for you?"

You blinked up at him, bemused. "Replaced? Astarion, it’s just a bath. Scratch got himself filthy today."

"Filthy?" he repeated, placing a hand over his heart as though you’d struck him. "And yet here you are, treating him like royalty. When he was the one that happily dived paw first into the puddle. Meanwhile, I—your loyal, loving, and might I add exceptionally attractive companion—am left standing here, abandoned. Neglected! How could you, my sweet? Have I not earned your touch?"

You bit your lip to keep from laughing, turning back to Scratch, who wagged his tail happily, utterly oblivious to the vampire’s theatrics. "You’re being ridiculous," you said, rinsing soap from the dog’s fur. "Scratch needed a bath. Besides, I thought you’d be thrilled—you’re always complaining about how he smells."

"Thrilled?" Astarion gasped, his voice rising in incredulous outrage. He crouched beside you now, close enough that his shoulder brushed yours. "My dear, do you see what’s happening here? That mangy creature is stealing what’s rightfully mine. I’ve been sitting over there, watching you dote on him, fawn over him, for what feels like an eternity. When was the last time you touched me with such care? Or looked at me like that?"

"You want me to give you a bath too?" you asked, raising an eyebrow.

His lips quirked up into a devilish grin. "Is that an offer? Because yes, I think I deserve a bath." He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a seductive purr. "I want your hands on me, scrubbing my back, washing my hair... tending to me in every possible way." he purred seductively.

You paused mid-rinse, water dripping back into the stream as you fixed him with a skeptical look. "You’re jealous," you accused, though your voice was light with amusement.

"Jealous?" he repeated, gasping dramatically. "No, no, my darling. Not jealous—heartbroken. Utterly heartbroken. My poor, withered heart may not survive this cruelty." He glanced over at Scratch with narrowed eyes. "First, the mutt takes your attention. What’s next? My place by the fire? My bedroll."

Before you could respond, Scratch bounded away, shaking off water with wild abandon. A spray of droplets hit both you and Astarion, and the dog happily flopped onto the grassy bank, basking in the sun. You made to follow him, but Astarion’s hand shot out, wrapping around your wrist with a firmness that stopped you in your tracks.

"Wait," he said, his voice softer now, almost pleading. His crimson eyes met yours, the usual mischief replaced with something raw and unguarded. "Don’t go running off after him again. Stay with me. Please."

Your heart softened at the vulnerability in his tone, but before you could reply, he tugged you forward—too fast, too forcefully. You stumbled, falling into the shallow river with a loud splash.

"Astarion!" you shrieked, glaring up at him as icy water soaked through your clothes.

He knelt beside you in the water, his expression shifting to one of exaggerated innocence. "Oh dear, what an unfortunate accident," he drawled, though the triumphant smirk curling his lips betrayed him. "I suppose this means you’ll have to spend some time with me now. Away from the dog."

"You’re insufferable," you snapped, splashing a handful of water at him. It hit his chest, darkening the fine fabric of his shirt.

"And yet, you adore me," he countered, utterly unfazed. His hands slid to your waist, pulling you closer with surprising gentleness. "Admit it, my sweet. You’d rather be here, soaking wet and utterly enraptured by me, than doting on that mongrel."

Your scowl melted into a reluctant laugh. "You’re impossible."

"Perhaps," he conceded, his voice dropping to a whisper. "But you’re stuck with me anyway." He leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that was surprisingly tender, the earlier dramatics replaced by a raw neediness that stole your breath.

As the water lapped around you, his forehead came to rest against yours. "Tell me you love me more than the dog," he murmured, his tone halfway between a command and a plea. "I need to hear it."

You laughed softly, your fingers tangling in his damp curls. "I love you more than Scratch."

"Thank the gods," he sighed, pulling you into another kiss, this one deeper, more urgent. "I was beginning to doubt my charms."

From the sunny bank, Scratch tilted his head, watching the scene with mild confusion. But when you didn’t chase him, he flopped onto his side with a huff, ear sagging as he watched you both. For now, it seemed Astarion had successfully reclaimed your attention—for now.

Please LIKE.COMMENT.REQUEST.

[2demondogs]

Annoying Javier/Reader Headcanons

A/N: The promised list from this post. Gender-neutral reader. Everyone can be tormented! Also atp I am so far behind Kinktober and so burnt out and busy I will just have to finish it late </3

There's no question of if Javier's attachment to you is secure based on how irritating he is. And if he's feeling insecure, he will go about playfully proclaiming you love me! followed by a suspicious ...right?

Javier definitely steals your food. If you're really hungry, he won't. He'll think about doing it but he isn't heartless, so he won't. If it's a snack, it's going to be his for the sole reason that it will piss you off. He's leaned over and taken bites out of food while you were holding it in your bare hands. He's like a seagull, or perhaps a rude horse.

He also enjoys making sure you won't want it back. Javier will eat just about anything given the fact pickings are usually slim, and he doesn't like to waste food or animal remains. It began as genuine suggestions and meal prepping, but now he also makes suggestions simply to gross you out. Goat eyes? Yes, please!

Walks with him are either romantic or Hellish. If he can be, he's attached at your hip. This is fine when he's trying to woo you, because that tone strikes up a sort of truce. When it's a short walk to get away or just for travel, Javier is knocking your hip with his to throw you off balance or swinging your hands higher and higher until you say something.

If you bend over, he will be there. Instantly. Consider it his sixth sense. It's either a squeeze on the hips, a smack on the ass, or Javier outright rutting on you until you shove him away or start laughing. If you tell him to stop, he will. Until then, it's a safer bet to squat down instead.

Javier will just... move you around. He will grab your hand, leg, shoulder — whatever he can get to — and reposition it. Usually, it's so that you two are closer than before or are touching in some way. If you're already cuddling, then he's just dicking around. The only times he's looked genuinely sorry for it is when you've complained that you were almost asleep and then he yanked on your arm just because.

If you misspeak in front of him, you might have to shoot him. Javier will mock you for hours. Stuttering? He will laugh and ask if he makes you nervous, or tell you how it cute it is. Forgetting a word? He'll never say that sentence correctly again. Accidentally made an innuendo? He's going to turn into a monster. Like most things, if it genuinely upsets you, he won't do it again. If you're only vaguely annoyed? Well, that's the reaction he's after.

[gay-dorito-dust]

hi sweetheart 🥺🥺 I love ur page so much!! Also I feel so thirsty to ur cannibal and reader things we need MORE and more PLEASE FEED US 🙏🏻🙏🏻🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷

I will keep feeding you cuz I have some stuff in mind but I’d like to add some benjicot Blackwood brainrot into it also bc he’s been on my mind since the sneak preview for episode 3.

So I might as well do a little short piece for you right here cuz I can:

Since we’ve toyed with the idea that reader and Cannibal would/could have a telepathic bond, so what happens if reader gains a crush on someone?

Cannibal is extremely protective over reader, no man -or woman- is good enough for them in his eyes and will let that be known.

Let’s say you met benjicot by pure coincidence, whether it be by a Bracken boy being a cunt and you kicked him in the dick, or you just happened to run into him and find his shy awkwardness somewhat charming and endearing as you found yourself wanting to get to know him more and he with you.

However Cannibal sees this interaction and is immediately in your head saying; the Blackwood boy? While skilled with the sword the boy can barely put together a sentence in your presence, what do you find so appealing about that small friend?

And you’re like: he’s sweet and kind and strong but has a warriors heart.

Only for cannibal to respond with seconds later as your getting lost in Benjicot’s eyes, cutting your daydream of being his short: he’s a guy that you’ve barely known for five minutes and you’re already saying he has your heart? Small friend you must realise how dangerous this mentality is, for your sake and mine.

You mentally curse this telepathic bond of yours as you tried not to show Benji that you were far away in your head to listen to him talk about anything; so? I can always get to know him more of you stop butting in you overgrown lizard.

Cannibal growled at the insult from afar, watching you practically eat the awkward Lord Blackwood with your eyes; I don’t want to see your filthy fantasies mortal, your hormones are getting the best of you that I can smell it from where I am.

‘Would you like to come visit Raventree hall sometime soon?’ Ben’s calming voice pulled you from your mental argument with your dragon as you blinked at him before realising what he had just asked.

‘Oh yeah, I would love to but I don’t wish to intrude-‘

‘It’s honestly no harm,’ Ben cuts in, cheeks flushing red after realising how desperate he might’ve looked in wanting to see you more as he clears his throat, ‘what I mean is that I’m the one who offered the invitation and besides I’d like to think my aunt would come to enjoy your presence.’ He adds with the shrug of his shoulders to act nonchalant.

You could hear cannibal groan at the obvious tension between the two of you, complaining that it was burning his sensitive nose, but you only smiled at Benjicot softly and laid a hand on his bicep. ‘I’d love to Benji, I would be honoured. I shall send a raven whenever I can.’ You tell him and you couldn’t help but smile when he smiled, warmth flooding your chest as you both bided the other farewell and see you soon’s.

When you got back to Cannibal and needless to say if a dragon could raise a judgmental brow, you knew that’s what he was doing as he huffed.

I don’t approve. Cannibal growled in your head.

You never approve of anyone I’ve ever fancied. You retorted back as Cannibal gave you the silent treatment for the next week for thinking about the sweet nobleman of house Blackwood.

[starflirts]

OUR SECRET MOMENTS IN A CROWDED ROOM

as mrs swift once said: "romance is not dead if you keep it just yours" luke castellan x fem! reader, wc: 614, warning: none, note: here's a little something i queued before classes took over my life… enjoy! (still working on other stuff though don’t worry!)

“They have no idea about me and you” he whispers softly in the space between your neck and your collarbones, soothing breaths tickling your skin. 

The lake is quiet at this time of day, campers from all cabins too busy with their own activities to pester Luke. The setting sun casts its golden rays on the water and you can hear the faint giggles of dryads in the woods. 

You stand with your back against the trunk of a tree, a bright smile on your face as you card a hand through his hair. “You have to thank me and our secret spot for that.” you muse, slightly pulling on his curls to get him to look at you. 

Luke grins, hands resting on your waist, thumbs tracing small circles on the skin hidden by your shirt. “And you,” he tilts his head to the side, “should be thankful Chris accepted to take over my camp counselor duties without asking any questions !” 

Curling your hands around his neck, you let out a laugh and Luke swears you’ve stolen the last remnants of sunlight. “If you keep disappearing like that he might become a little too curious and find out. And I really don’t want him complaining about you not telling him about us. He’d beg to be your best man.” you tease him, fingers toying with the curls at the back of Luke’s head. 

Your boyfriend can’t help but smile at the implication. He shrugs, hands still on your waist. “Whatever. I’d like to see his face when we tell him.”

Pretending to pout, you cross your arms over your chest. “No more secret rendezvous then ? Such a shame, I love having you all to myself.” you answer with a grin, tone dripping with amusement. 

Luke can feel warmth creeping up his ears. His hands crawl up your sides until they're resting on your cheeks. He’s so close to you now you can almost feel his lips hovering over yours and the tip of his nose brushes against yours. “Pretty lady, I am yours all the time. Always have, always will.” 

He’s about to lean in when voices suddenly call your names. Whipping your head towards the source of the sound, you push yourself away from the tree but the distance between you and Luke remains minimal.

“We’ve been looking for you everywhere!” Annabeth is the first one to appear in your line of vision, Percy in tow. “The Apollo cabin is setting up the bonfire. You guys should come now otherwise Percy’s going to eat all the s’mores.” she adds, ignoring Percy’s complaints. 

When the four of you make your way back to the heart of the camp, Annabeth looks back at you once. If she notices the way Luke’s hand brushes against yours she doesn’t say a thing. 

Bonfire nights are Luke’s favorites by far. With your hand safely secured in his underneath a blanket you both share, he enjoys the proximity; whispering sweet nothings into your ear when no one notices, grinning when only he can see your bashful smile. 

“You’re so obvious Castellan” you giggle, shaking your head.

He only chuckles at that. “Can’t help myself pretty. I just love you too much.” 

His words make you shy away from his gaze, turning towards the crowd of campers by your side.

As you face the fire, you can feel Annabeth’s eyes on you from across the flames, a smirk on her face. Her gaze shifts from you to Luke, intently observing his lovesick gaze and your giddy countenance. Raising your eyebrows as if to ask her what she was thinking about, she only mouths back: “I knew it !”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Just Friends: Can I Take Your Order?

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Bucky Barnes

masterlist

Summary: Bucky pays you a surprise visit.

It’s giving

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

Your work isn’t hard per se, but it can be chaotic. Still, your tips more than make up for all the running around, but not necessarily the ridiculous attire. You’re not entirely unhappy, it’s exciting even if it can be stressful. 

The diners always keep you on your feet. Literally. You run around, table to table, that night dressed as the infamous Dorothy who’s too far from Kansas. Somewhere around their, a lion, scarecrow, and tinman are taking orders and entertaining children at their seats. 

The themed restaurant isn’t really the place you would go, but it’s a family-friendly venue in a city overcrowded with more adult attractions. The money keeps a roof over your head. You won’t complain for that. 

The Oz room is overflowing and you can see more customers in the lobby. Please send them over to Mary Poppins’ Pop-In. You don’t have time to dread the new wave of diners as you bring a tray of desserts to a table with three blustering toddlers. You could never. 

“Anything else?” You ask as you put out the stemmed cups of banana pudding pie. 

“The check--” the father demands before he’s hit in the face with a stray straw. He grits back his agitation and forces a smile, “thanks.” 

You pick up the straw and leave him. As you do, you pass Graham, that night’s scarecrow. He lowers his voice as he follows you to the till. 

“Can you get the next table, please? I’m dying for a smoke. Any longer and I’m going to smack one of these brats,” he mutters. 

You smile at him. You find the nights go by quicker without breaks. “No problem! On it. I just need to get this bill printed out.” 

You toss the straw and tap the till. You pull up that table and print it out, tucking it into one of the little folders. You grab a handful of hard candies and sweep back across the dining room. 

“Here ya are, enjoy your desserts,” you say and carry on. 

You peer around, searching for the new diners. Right there in the corner. You head over in your pig-tailed wig and red shoes. As you near, your chest flickers. You think you know the back of that head. No, it’s not. He wouldn’t be here... 

You’re all but assured of your suspicions by the golden hair of the man across from him. A third to round out party. You cringe before you muster a smile and come to the side of the table. 

“Welcome to the Land of Oz,” you recite your mandatory introduction and avoid looking at Bucky, “don’t stray too far or you might find a wicked witch or flying monkey to carry you off. May I start you with some drinks?” 

“You got cocktails at a joint like this?” Bucky scoffs. 

You refuse to look at him, “the menu’s right there.” You point beside the centerpiece. He chuckles. 

“This is cute, how’d you find this place, Buck?” The blond asks. The man better known as Captain America. 

“Hmm, this place would be fun to you two geriatrics,” their other companion says. That’s the Falcon. 

You can feel Bucky watching you. He’s smirking. You know it. At least when you see him, you only ever have your stupid dress on. You take the wig and makeup off before you go home. It attracts less weirdos. 

“So, we do have beer, despite what you might think,” you offer. 

“Got prune juice? These two need it--” Falcon, rather Sam Wilson, chortles and receives an elbow to the ribs. 

“We have cranberry,” you suggest. 

“Where’s Toto?” Bucky asks. 

You hold back as sigh and finally meet his eyes, “no dogs allowed.” 

“Damn, sounds like you should go then, eh, Buck,” Sam adds. You grin as he cackles. 

“Hey,” Bucky sneers. “Just water for me.” 

“No milk to keep your bones strong?” The Captain, or Steve, kids. 

“You’re a year younger, shut up,” Bucky huffs. 

“I’ll get a water too,” Steve smirks. 

“Get me a Miller,” Sam says, “please.” 

“No problem. I’ll be back with that and some menus.” 

You spin and strut away. It feels good to see him getting teased because you know he only came here to mock you. You can’t exactly follow him to his work and make fun of his arm. Not that you would. 

You get the water and beer and return to the table with menus under your arm. You hand them all out and give them some time to look over it. You check in with your other tables before you go back again. 

“So, have we made up our minds?” You smile. 

Steve smiles at you, “uh, can I ask what kinda fish it is?” 

“Cod, sir,” you answer as you lean in to see where he points on the menu. 

“Ah, thanks.” 

“You got any recommendations?” Sam asks. 

“I usually go straight to dessert,” you smile, “but the spaghetti is yummy. And you can get it spicy.” 

“Oh, you like it spicy?” Bucky snickers. 

You look at him and Steve clears his throat, “Buck.” 

“Yikes, dude. You got lines, huh?” Sam teases. 

“No, I just--” he gets flustered and rolls his eyes. “Can I have the cheeseburger and fries?” 

“Sure thing,” you take out your notepad. 

“I’ll have the fish and chips,” Steve says, “is it possible to add an extra filet?” 

“Yeppers,” you nod and jot it down. 

“Think I’ll get the meatball sandwich,” Sam says, “apparently, I like meatballs.” 

Steve scowls again and Bucky sighs. You tap your pen on the pad, “alrighty. I’ll go put your order in.” 

“Thanks, doll.” Sam winks at you. 

You smile and as you turn, you hear Bucky hiss, “doll? Since when do you call anyone doll?” 

You make a face but don’t pay much mind to their arguing. He did mention his other friends could be a bit much. Based on that interaction, you’d say he’s just as bad. 

You put the ticket in the window and turn back. As you go back to the family to get the bill and your tip, your eyes snag on Bucky. He cranes around to see you and waves at you with two fingers. Oh, you have to get him back for this. 

[inmaki2]

noctyx’s reaction to their s/o being a virgin

req . pairing : noctyx x f!reader .

smut mdni . est 1.6k wc .

warnings : unprotected (wrap b4 tap), pretty soft.. just virginity loss, size/bulge kink

i am so srry for how long this took but pls enjoy!!!!!

alban knox

thinking your boyfriend was as pure as you — perhaps even more so — you felt no shame in announcing that it’d be your first if the heated make out session at hand went any further

boy, were you wrong

as soon as you press a hand to alban’s bare chest, whispering how ‘you’ve never gone this far before’, he couldn’t stop the hungry groan that left his lips

being more on the subby side, alban was not expecting that he might have to take control for your first time together, but he wasn’t complaining

“are— are you serious? we can stop here if you want, no pressure.”

even if his cock is practically screaming for some attention, he’d never push you into something you aren’t ready for

but when you shake your head, mumbling that you want it while gazing up at him with such desperate eyes, poor boy almost cums in his pants

biting his lip, he watches you rub your thighs together impatiently. “okay, lets— lets get these off first, babe. is that alright?”

he.. isn’t the most confident dom but he’s trying! more service top than anything

once you’re bare in front of him, he spends a good five minutes just peppering you with kisses and feeling you up

he just wants to go all out in foreplay in fear of you not being fully comfortable yet, but with how long he takes you’re pretty much begging him to get a move on

“albannn.. please, just touch me..”

he grins, stomach flat on the bed as he sucks a mark into your thigh, “where do you want me, baby? here? or here?”

you gasp, feeling a single digit run up your folds, sinking inside for a moment before moving up to your clit

“geez.. you’re so fucking wet and i barely did anything.”

soon he’s massaging the bud with his thumb, a cat-like tongue pushing past your walls and releasing a strangled whimper from your lips

meanwhile, alban is doing everything in his power to not flip you onto fours and get to it because why do your moans sound so heavenly ?.??

luckily you’re just as needy by then, reaching down to pull on his brown locks pleadingly. “need you to put it in now, please. m’ ready, alban. i promise.”

and he thought he couldn’t get any harder …

this boy is soft down to the very last minute though, so he ends up holding your hand the entire time he pushes in, sucking your tits messily as a distraction

“alban.. hurts. s’too big.” he feels kinda bad for the way he gets impossibly more turned on by those words

“don’t worry, it’s gonna feel really good soon, i promise. just keep your eyes on me, princess.” you nod, glancing down to watch as his pesky fangs gnaw into his lip

he locks your legs tighter around his slim waist, thrusting extra slow at first to gauge your reaction

due to his lengthy foreplay you were fine, only a slight burn from his sheer size remaining

“shit shit— can i speed up, please? you’re squeezing me so tight..” soon you’re gonna need to grab the sheets because he is not slowing down once he starts

“look how well you take me, m’so proud.”

“this cunt was made f’me, right? say it please, please..”

alban is extremely vocal, whining every single time you clench around him, so a great method is kissing to shut the both of you up

he’s definitely not the best at self control, may end up cumming early because you just feel so good and warm :(

“‘m sorry, i couldn’t hold it, please cum for me baby.. i love you..” he’s so cute,, will overstimulate himself just to make sure you finish off too!

even by the end of it, if you’re wanting more he could probably go another few times knowing his stamina

but please be prepared for a very long cuddle session after,, no escaping cat boyfriend for a good hour at least

all in all a very easygoing experience; cum whenever you want, touch wherever you want (please scratch his back and pull his hair harder at that)

we love our soft switch cat boy

fulgur ovid

he just looks at you with such a surprised expression, feeling honoured to be the first one to touch what’s rightfully his

“no need to worry sweetheart, i’ll take care of you, alright?”

however, while fulgur would normally love initiating touches, he’ll leave it up to you to decide when you’re ready

and the night you come over to his desk and whisper how bad you want him, he’s already shutting his pc down

“kiss me, pretty girl.”

you don’t know what you expected, but it wasn’t that “c’mon, don’t be shy. if you can’t even give me a kiss, i dunno how i’m supposed to have you riding my cock later.”

with that, your lips meet his while fulgur pulls off your garments one by one, a small smirk rising on his face as he gently pushes you to his bed

“already look so gorgeous underneath me like this. can i touch you?”

fulgur is easily the slowest with foreplay out of all 3, probably giving you about two orgasms with just his fingers and tongue before even taking his pants off

however, it is quite reasonable considering how girthy and intimidating his length is, visible by pressing through the outline of his boxers

even so, you attempt to return the favor by going down on him too, quickly being stopped by fulgur’s hands cupping your cheeks

“another day, sweetheart. this is about you,” he declares, pressing a quick kiss to your lips

a gasp later escaping your mouth as he runs the tip up and down your entrance before circling your clit

he has you lying in mating press, his large hands press your thighs to your chest, bent in half rather embarassingly

that was the least of your concerns, though. “i don’t- fulgur, i don’t think that can fit..” you stammer, the leaking, angry tip practically glaring at you

he grabs your hand for support, making comforting eye contact once he gently pushes through. “i’ll make it fit, princess. try to relax for me, alright?”

rubs your clit extra quick to distract you from the stretch, bottoming out rather expertly before waiting for your signal to move

fulgur loves praising you for anything and everything, leaning down to press a quick kiss in your lips after you tell him you’re ready

“such a good girl, look how well you’re taking me. shit, so fuckin’ proud.”

fun fact if you can keep your eyes open through his thrusting, you’ll find out about his raging bulge kink

his eyes just keep going from your pretty face to the pretty outline of his dick in your lower stomach T-T

“can you feel me up in your tummy angel?” when you nod, he can’t help but smile proudly. “filled up so well, aren’t you? gonna cum just for me?”

“mhm.. faster, fulgur please.” “greedy girl..” he lets you get away with whatever you want just this once~

he’s also the best at holding off his orgasm, only allowing himself to release once you have

coaxes you through it the whole time, too. “that’s it, let go for me, darling. doing so fuckin’ well, taking this dick like a champ.”

that has you smiling as you finish, something only fulgur could make you do

once you’ve both recovered, your boyfriend will be quick to rush over and get a towel, cleaning you up extra carefully

aftercare king,, asks if everything was okay for you, if you want him to run a bath or something to eat

if not, he hops into bed with you, spooning you extra close

an ideal first experience fs, hopefully you don’t mind if he’s a bit less gentle next time riiight c:

sonny brisko

for once sonny was being bold; plain white tee thrown haphazardly off the bed as he hovers over your body with his own, a lustful haze shadowing his pupils

he was completely in the moment, all shyness washed away as he reaches down to pull your own shirt up

but as soon as you take hold of his wrist, he freezes, moving off you.

“sonny, it’s-“ “shit, i’m so sorry i- i thought you wanted to-“ “sonny!”

then you proceed to explain how you do in fact want him, just that you’d never experienced something like this before

but then he just

“oh, really? me too!” your eyes widen, watching a shy grin appear on his flushed face. “i was kinda just going with my gut, but i don’t really know what i’m doing..”

(don’t forget this man has a 80-90 rice purity after all)

knowing that your boyfriend had around the same amount of experience as you increased your confidence and comfort levels, evident in how swiftly you flipped over so that he was the one lying below you

“we can learn together, then.” pulling your top off, you watch as sonny’s eyes dart down to your breasts, purple eyes darkening as you move his hands up to fondle them

“they’re so soft..” he mumbles, completely entranced while you’re busy unzipping his trousers

you’ve always wondered how your cute, innocent boyfriend would react to such ecstatic pleasure, and you were ready to find out tonight

“can i suck you off?” it was strange hearing such vulgar things from your pretty lips T-T

“uh,” his cheeks redden, nodding sheepishly, “if you want to i’d- i’d like that.”

let’s just say getting head might be one of his new favourite pastimes

.. the sound of you choking and struggling to take him due to his size makes him more than a little turned on

knowing it was your first time giving head, he tried extra hard not to buck his hips up: letting you decide your own pace with a pale hand tangled in your hair

“mmph, fuck! suck a lil’ harder, baby.. so good..”

like fulgur, sonny has decent self control and quickly pulls you off when he feels his orgasm approaching

“gotta save my cum for when i’m inside you, right?” then he sends you the most innocent smile.. :sigh:

he also has surprisingly delicate yet long fingers, which he puts to good use in foreplay (he even managed to pull an orgasm out of you in record time.. he was proud but maintained a cool demeanour)

though he wanted to return the favor of head originally.. you both found yourself getting desperate for more

soon enough you’re straddling him, thighs propped on either side of his with your middle hovering just over his

the position was sonny’s idea, claiming that riding him gave you the option to control your own pace

but even with him fingering you, it was a slight challenge

“shit, why’re you so big?” while other men might get happy by such a question, sonny blushes furiously

“sorry..” he replies, “you’re doing great babe. take your time,” he reaches a hand down to massage your clit, the other caressing your side softly

once he’s completely bottomed out and you start moving, he showers you in praising kisses, whispering how well you’re doing in your ear

“fuuuck, so tight and warm..” his eyes are half closed, sweat sticking to his bangs as the sound of skin slapping fills the room

he fills you up perfectly, but the burning in your thighs only worsened after a while, forcing your pace to slow down

“need help, baby?”

he barely waits for you reply, already snapping his hips up and sending waves of pleasure through you

since it’s his first time as well, he may orgasm early.. but your boyfriend is determined to ensure you do too and will handle the overstimulation (semi) easily!

the blonde watches as your eyes roll back from pleasure, and this time he can’t help but proudly chuckle, “that face says you’re already a slut for my dick. must be close, huh?”

his moans almost overtake yours, nails digging into your hips painfully, “c’mon, cum for me y/n. say my name too.. fuck—“

he lets go as soon as you do ‘cause truth be told, poor boy was struggling extra hard to not cum before you again..

but then as your basking in the afterglow he proceeds to collect his release off your stomach, then lick it right from his finger

“sonny, what the fuck?” “i was curious!”

he’ll probably ask what you need for aftercare, definitely after carrying you bridal style to the bathroom to pee

and maybe round two in the shower??? :nervous sonny smile:

if u enjoyed, reblogs + comments r appreciated!

© nkox on tumblr. all rights reserved. do not rewrite, cross-post, translate, copy, etc.

[liliannadelaphinehartifelt]

Alastor - [ DEVOTION Pt. 4 ]

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A/N: This is all angst and fluff because I'm working on two other smut fics. Please accept this impromptu filler chapter for now (I'm sorry ❤️). I hope you enjoy it anyway.

WARNINGS: [ SFW ] + [ SLIGHTLY MATURE THEMES ] + [ FLUFF ] + [ ANGST ]

xxxxxx xxxxxxx xxxxx xxxxxx xxxxxxx xxxx

You waited patiently for Alastor, standing at the window, admiring the fading moon as the sun's rays gradually inked the sky. It’d been a longer night than you imagined, but you felt energized rather than overtly exhausted.

You supposed that's what having a child felt like: tiring but never lacking excitement. A smile crept onto your face at the thought, heart racing at the image of a small hand wrapping around your finger and the possible jingle of childish laughter following the gesture. It was all you could think about.

Would they resemble you or Alastor more?

A boy or maybe a girl?

Twins?… Oh, twins would be so extraordinary but troublesome!

Oh, who am I to complain… they'd be just as lovely as Alastor.

You jumped from one thought to the next, unable to keep track of your puzzling emotions but deciding your only concern should be the present. With a steadying breath, you gazed around the room, searching for something to do or a task to occupy yourself with since sleep failed you. The room was spotless besides your belongings, which you'd already reorganized after stealing one of Alastors dress shirts to replace your blood-stained nightgown. There was a bookshelf full of various stories tucked into a corner near an old rocking chair, and the idea of reading to relax didn't seem terrible.

“A good story can be grand entertainment…”

Your father coined the phrase and always followed it with an unbelievable bedtime reading. Those nights filled with his storytelling were your fondest childhood memories, and you considered passing the sentiment onto your child. You imagined Alastor more prone to telling bedtime stories; he had the charisma, the soothing voice for it, and you had no doubt they'd become attached to him doing so.

Your smile grew wider, getting ahead of itself as you waltzed over to the tall mahogany bookshelf. “Hm…what shall we read, little one?” you placed a hand on your stomach, gently rubbing circles against it as your other grazed the worn book spines. Each title caught your eye, all ranging in subject but consistent with what Alastor told you about his mother's efforts to advance his literacy.

“Some might say she willed proper speech out of me, but I wouldn't be where I am now without such vigorous practice…”

He was far from wrong; your father had educated you similarly, claiming that despite young women of the time being expected to rely on their beauty, you'd advance farther with brains.

“Let's see..” you mumbled aloud, reading a few titles to narrow your decision, “…perhaps Penny Dreadful? No, The Grim Brothers Tales’?..” A soft giggle left your lips as you considered how ridiculous you sounded speaking aloud, but it couldn't be helped. You were longing to talk, to shout with joy, but resisted the urge in fear of causing a minor disturbance.

Finally, a book held your attention, not as worn as the others but fairly withered. “Alice in Wonderland shall do.” You pricked it from the shelf, sitting in the rocking chair while opening its front cover. The words on each page were familiar, immersive as intended, and for a few quiet moments, you thought of nothing but its premise as you whispered nonsensical sentences in their written order.

Time passed quicker than you thought; by the third chapter, you heard the bedroom door creak open, and in stepped a refreshed Alastor. You beamed a coy smile his way as he shut the door behind him, returning your smile with tired eyes while walking over to you, “Mornin’ darlin’..”

“Good morning, mon cher. You look much better.” you muse as he leans down to kiss your head, “Thank you, sweetheart. Once I get some rest, I might feel better as well.” He doesn't stand up fully, content with being at eye level with you to converse, and you unconsciously blush from the intensity of his gaze. Strands of his hair were curled into its natural waves, dripping with tiny water droplets, slithering down his mocha skin with every breath he took. It was a miracle his glasses didn't fog up, resting neatly on his face and doing nothing but accentuating his piercing brown eyes.

You could get lost in his stare; that ocean of amber took your breath away effortlessly, and you wondered if the trait would pass on to your child.

Indeed, it would… surely he'd love it.

A lump formed in your throat as anxious excitement built in your chest. You needed to tell him calmly, but the longer you waited, the more you wanted to hide away.

Did he want this?

“I’d love you and our child more than anything…”

He'd said it himself, but it was hard for you to deny that Alastor was very vague with his genuine emotions. Even as his wife, you found him hard to read

There was only one way for you to find out, and stalling wouldn't solve anything. Alastor studied your expression as you thought, perceptive to the minor changes in your mood, “My dear, are you alright?” he asked firmly. You perk up, nodding slowly while clutching the book to your chest, “I-Im, I'm fine... It's just that I have to tell you something rather delicate..”

Alastor raised a brow, watching as you bit your lip and stared at your lap, “The news you alluded to earlier this evening?” His eyes narrow, glinting with prowess as he ponders the possibilities of your announcement.

With a heavy sigh, you nod again, shutting the book before placing it in your lap, gripping it tight with one hand as the other instinctively rests on your stomach. You feel his gaze shift from your face, fixated on your abdomen, as you stumble out an explanation.

“I. Well, I'm… “ you cut yourself off when words fail, reaching for his hand gently, placing it over your own as a nervous smile adorns your face.

Oh…does she mean to say?…

Alastor froze as the warmth of your skin settled against his palm, rising and falling in a gentle pattern as you willed yourself to breathe normally while gauging his reaction. His shadows quivered in the darkness of the room, able to hear two faint heartbeats underneath the drum of your own, and the definitive sound brought a grin to his face.

It seems she's given us exactly what we hoped for. Twice the yield as well.

How delightful.

Alastor knelt before you, placing both hands on your stomach, eyes soft with affection as he finally voiced his thoughts.

“My darling wife is going to be a mother..” pride laced his tone as he averted his gaze to yours, grin ever present as you nodded excitedly with a bright smile, “And you're going to be father..” you whisper.

Your words drifted quietly in the air, sinking into Alastor’s consciousness and stirring his specters into a giddy frenzy.

My wife is having my children…

Mine and only mine.

A laugh rippled in his chest as the possessive thought invaded his mind, growing stronger as he heard your delighted giggles join his. “Come here, darlin’…” Alastor lifted you with one gentle tug on your wrists, catching you in his arms as your feet hovered off the ground. “Alastor!” you yelped excitedly, smiling so hard your cheeks hurt and laughing more as he pecked your lips tenderly. You hummed into the passionate kiss, arms locking around his neck as you kicked a foot up gingerly. He tasted like mint, calm, and refreshing. A welcomed contrast to the waning heat you felt as your nerves winded down.

He was pleased to know, which filled your heart with relief.

——- ——- ———

“Oh, my stars! Al! Y/n! I'm overjoyed for you both!” Rosie shot up from her seat, dress flowing as she glided around the coffee table to squeeze you in a tight hug as you set out the platter of sweets you'd finished baking moments ago. “Thank you, Rosie. I still can't believe it myself,” you blushed as she squealed, drawing back a bit to cup your face with both hands; her eyes sparkled with admiration as she looked between you and Alastor -who sat comfortably in an armchair. He hadn't stopped grinning since your return home from the countryside, rambling on and on to his mother about the news until the last minute, and he insisted on telling Rosie as soon as you stepped foot in New Orleans again. She was his long-time friend, after all, yours as well, by extension, and so you didn't mind revealing the news to her. Just as his mother felt like your own, Rosie filled the space of an older sister for you. She was energetic, fashionable, and constantly aware of everyone's lives.

She was a true gossip girl, but you enjoyed her company more than others.

“Al, you devil! You could've waited another year to knock my dearest friend up! Now, who will I take out on the town?..” She huffed dramatically but couldn't hold her frown as you giggled softly while he waved a hand dismissively. “I'm sure you'll survive, my dear.” he quips. Rosie rolls her eyes, returning his nonchalant gesture with an equally smug smirk, “I suppose you're right. Although, my nights out won't be as thrilling anymore with you gone being a new father and such, Al.”

He sat straighter. You happened to catch the slightest frown on his face at Rosie’s comment, but it vanished when he felt your eyes on him. “I'll accompany you on occasion when time allows it.” His response is politely chaste, and one might deem it disappointing.

Was he bothered by the notion of having less time with Rosie?

You knew they ventured to socialite parties together regularly, something they'd done long before you married him, but you never questioned it since Rosie assured you it was their fun hobby. Still, you felt concerned that Alastor could regret the idea of children if it meant a less spontaneous party going with his oldest friend.

You opened your mouth to say something, stepping towards where he sat, but Rosie grabbed your hands and whisked you away to sit on the plush sofa with her. “We must discuss everything Y/n. Having a child is no small feat, and I know Al won't spare any expense.” She grinned, squeezing your hands gently, and you smiled back at her before sparing your husband a curious glance. “He spoils me too much already, so I think he'll naturally do the same for the baby,” a soft laugh floated from you, and he tipped his head reassuringly while pulling out his pocket watch to check the time. “Whatever their little heart desires, I shall give,” he replies calmly, standing to his feet and gazing between you and Rosie. “It's about time I head on over to the station. I don't suppose you’ll be leaving anytime soon, Rosie?”

You checked the grandfather clock that stood against the adjacent wall, noticing it was nearly time for his broadcast to begin, “Seems we lost track of time.” you smiled apologetically at Alastor. He shook his head while chuckling, “It's not your fault, darling. I got caught up listening to this one ramble,” he gestured to Rosie before walking over to the parlor room coat stand. He pricked his preferred overcoat, slipping it on quickly as she glared at his back. “Is that any way to speak of your child’s future honorary aunt and godmother!” she faked a skeptical look to which you feigned concern, “Oh, my dear Rosie, he didn't mean it, I swear!”

Alastor turned on his heel, biting back a more comprehensive smile as he admired the two of you carrying on, “I will not apologize for telling the truth, ma chère, but Rosie does have the privilege of godmother so that for I will ask for her forgiveness.” he stood behind the sofa, leaning down a bit to kiss you once then twice before pulling away with a content hum.

Rosie watched the sweet exchange, able to separate the manic version of Alastor she killed from the doting husband he was in your presence, proud to see him so controlled and happy. He pulled away from you, adoring the glimmer in your eyes as you reached a hand up to adjust his glasses, “I love you,” you whisper, and he blanks for a moment, hearing the endearing phrase.

Love…is that what this is?…

Would it be so wrong to say it back?…

A flash of vulnerability crosses Alastor’s face, and you're tempted to take your words back, but he beats you to speak. “Je t'aime aussi..” he mutters back, stepping away to bid Rosie a proper goodbye, “Take good care of her while I'm gone.” he kisses her cheek, and she swats his arm, “Oh, you know I will. Now run along before you're late!” He heads to her, scolding her out the door in seconds, leaving you in her company.

“I thought he'd never leave,” Rosie chirps, glad to have some privacy to speak with you and eager to get down to the details you had to tell. “Tell me, how do you feel, honey? I know this all might be terrifying you…” she spoke softly, pricking a freshly baked cookie from the platter you set out, and you nodded timidly in agreement while fidgeting with your hands.

“I'm scared, yes, but not of being a mother. You know I've always wanted to be one. It was my biggest dream when I came of age, and I'm glad it's coming true with Al..” You rested a hand on your stomach, feeling it flip at the mention of him, and luckily, no urge to throw up followed.

Thank goodness for Angelique and her tonics!

She'd given you a case of vials to take home, all containing a special brew made by her hand, and she'd given you a strict regimen for consuming them.

“Drink two of these twice daily, morning and evening, but only take it after you've eaten. Have Alastor phone me when you need more..”

Whatever was given had a wonderous effect on your mood, reduced your fatigue, and calmed your nerves. You were grateful for her assistance, but not everything you felt could be cured with medicine.

You hoped Rosie would understand, could help calm what the tonics couldn't, so as she peered at you curiously and asked, “What's the matter, dearest?” you inevitably blurted out your worst and only fear.

“I'm afraid of how Alastor will be as a father..”

She blinked, taken aback by your confession, but it didn't show on her face. “May I ask why?”

You hesitated, fidgeting with your hands again as you thought of what to say, but Rosie rested a hand on yours to still them in a gentle grip. “Y/n, it's alright, be honest. He may have been my closest companion initially, but you are my truest friend in this moment. I'm here to listen, not to criticize. He won't hear a word of it, I swear.”

You glanced between your conjoined hands and her kind smile, and after debating whether or not to spill your heart out, you decided it wouldn't hurt to express your doubts.

You could trust Rosie. Right?…

“Well, I know he wants children. He recently told me so, but it's how he'll receive them. Alastor is a complex man, we both know that, but I fear that complexity will make it hard for him to…to..” you tried to phrase the last of your concerns gently, unsure if what you said made any sense to her, but Rosie merely smiled before finishing the thought for you.

“You're afraid he won't show them love?..”

You nod, heart clenching at the thought, “Yes. I know how his childhood went; I was there through it all, so I know his father wasn't the best man. I know what he put his mother through and Alastor hates the idea of becoming like him..”

You forced yourself to take a deep breath, beginning to tear up as memories of Alastor coming to you in the dead of night, bruised and battered but stoic as ever as he asked to sleep next to you in your bed. He'd never tell you what happened, where his father was, or if he'd been majorly injured. You'd have to coax information out of him, promise him that you'd never betray his safety, or tell your father what went on in his family. Then and only then would he relax, let you mend his scars before huddling under the thick covers with you, and though you were both exhausted, you'd whisper stories aloud to each other until the sun peeked through the trees.

It felt odd to wish for times like that to return; they all resorted from darker places, but it brought you two closer. You were able to understand Alastor to an extent most speculated of. With all the insight into his life, you hoped the irrational fears you felt would wither away, but after the incident at his mother's, they just worsened.

It felt as if he were hiding something from you.

At first, the notion piqued your curiosity, but now it ate away at your conscience.

What was he withholding from you, and did you need or want to know more?

Logic voted ‘yes,’ but your trusting nature leaned towards ‘no.’

“He won't ever be like him. I'm sure, but he's only recently expressed he cares for me. Truly loves me, so I suppose I'm afraid of that same affection not being openly expressed to our little one as well.”

Rosie nodded, scooting closer and giving you a tight side hug to calm your frazzled state. “My dear, you have every right to fear such a thing. However, if I may vouch for Alastor, I do believe his softer side will show itself for your child.” You peered at her, hope in your eyes, “Really? You think so?..”

She grins, “I am certain of it! He cherishes you like no other! Unlike my husband, yours is a dime and a man who'd kill for you if necessary.”

You blush, surprised by her claim, “I don't think he'd kill for me, Rosie, but I understand the sentiment.” She scoffs, hand rubbing your shoulders, and retorts, “Yes, he would, and he'd show the same devotion to your bundle of joy.”

Her statement soothed your worries, but the seriousness in her tone made your heart skip a beat.

It felt as though she did know he'd kill for you…kill for your child.

A shiver racked your body at the thought.

I hope it never comes to that…

xxxxxx xxxxxxx xxxxx xxxxxx xxxxxxx xxxx

What do you guys think of the story so far? I'm just curious to hear your thoughts and theories.❤️

[ BONUS CONTENT + ]

He may be a monster, but at least he's dedicated to it; morally grey, but honest to his silly little murderous behaviors ❤️ credits to the creator