#its BLOODY BRILLIANT i tell you

[gennianydots]

Artists on Tumblr You Should Definitely Follow

@silverquillsideas I made collages of your geminifourth work because I’m borderline obsessed with you?

(& i like making collages)

Artist: @silverquillsideas

[hirukochan]

Can I please request a snape smut fic? The reader and him have been friends since school and she is in love with him only he does not know it or realize his feelings till Sirius is flirting with her and it leads to a fight between them leading to them confessing to their feelings. Maybe some dirty talk biting and rough smut

Sooo...I got a bit carried away with this...definetly not the roughest smut I've written, but I hope you like it anyway.

Severus and his sunshine

Pairing: Severus Snape x fem!reader

warnings: Smut, loss of virginity

Wordcount: 7402 (oops...)

Read on Ao3 or below the cut:

“To the youngest Professor in the history of Hogwarts!” You cheer and raise your glass clumsily into the air, spilling half your drink down your arm. “Oops-” You giggle. 

It’s not the first drink of the evening and not the first time you toast to Severus’ new job - and certainly not the last. It bears repeating after all because how fucking awesome is this? You have always known that Severus is the most intelligent and brilliant and ingenious person you’d ever meet! It’s unfair - no, a bloody shame! - how many people never realised it just because Severus’ is a bit awkward and rude and- alright he’s a downright cunt sometimes but he has every bloody right to be with the road his life has taken so far! With a father like that and that awful Potter and his stupid goons!

“We need to cut you off.” He drawls, the corner of his lips curling, and tries to snatch your glass from you. You jump off the chair you're standing on and cradle your drink protectively to your chest, firewhiskey dripping down your arm.

“Try and I’ll bite your finger off!”

“You’re drunk.”

“No, I’m not.” Severus shakes his head but doesn’t try to get your drink again, instead focusing on his own (the second of the evening - what a bore). The pub is crowded and loud, nobody pays any attention to the two of you sitting at a table in the corner.

You plop back down on your chair and take a sip of your drink. 

Severus’ eyes have gone distant again. That happens a lot lately. Like something is on his mind that he lacks the words to tell you. Social interactions aren’t his strong suit. You’re the ‘Severus-translator’ Lily used to joke when you three were still friends because you always knew what Severus wanted to say but couldn’t. You always made sure he was included in conversations, told others to shut up so he could speak or smooth over his rough edges whenever someone didn’t get Severus’ dry and dark sense of humour. 

One look at him from across the Great Hall during breakfast and you knew whether he was in a good or bad mood. You knew when he had a nightmare the night before and needed a gentler touch or when to bluntly tell him he’s being a cunt.

This you can’t seem to figure out. 

He smiles less these days. Even less than usual. The four years since you finished school have been hard, especially for him, especially with the war. 

Emotions are not Severus’ thing.

His long black hair falls into his face, hiding his grave expression from the world and you. His face has lost its boyish features. His jaw is more prominent, complementing his high cheekbones. His hooked nose suits him. It’s something about the proportions or symmetry of his face - you can’t quite put your finger on it. Most people seem to be put off by his appearance, but to you he has always held something uniquely beautiful.

He taps his finger against his glass repeatedly. His fingernails are still painted black…You made him let you paint them last time he was at your flat. It suits him.

You place your hand over his, stopping his fidgeting. You wish you’d know what’s going on in his head, clearly whatever it is puts him on edge, but you trust he’ll talk to you when he is ready. 

“You’ll be great.” You say. “I have no doubt. You’re a bloody genius, Severus! These kids are so lucky. They can learn so much from you!”

“I am certain they will share your attitude.” He says sardonically and you snort. Severus downs his drink and takes your empty glass to get another round (and probably a glass of water for you because he’s such a mum sometimes). You smirk as you watch him make his way through the crowd. 

He sticks out like a sore thumb in these new robes he got, but you think they too suit him. It’s probably the first time he isn’t wearing hand-me-downs. He’s wearing all black of course. The most colour you ever saw him wear was at Hogwarts in the form of his emerald green school tie. 

Severus looks intimidating. It makes him look older, stronger somehow. It’s such a stark difference to the beat up jeans, the The Cure bandshirt you gifted him one Christmas and the shabby leather jacket.

But not in a bad way.

He looks good. 

Maybe it’s the fact he has grown taller since graduation. He’s a head taller than he used to be and shed his bend over posture. Escaping both Hogwarts and his recently deceased father agrees with him. That and your continued effort of forcing him to eat three whole meals a day, every day.

His wide shoulders and dark hair disappear behind people and you rip your eyes from the spot you last saw him.

So much has changed in the last four years but that little flutter in your heart whenever you look at him has not changed. When it first started in your fourth year you didn’t even realise what it was about. You’d start stammering around him, earning you silent glares and raised eyebrows from Severus at which you’d blush. After an embarrassingly long time you finally accepted that you had developed a crush on your best friend. 

You’re too terrified of losing him as a friend to ever tell him though.

Severus isn’t good with feelings. They are too complicated. Too messy. He doesn’t need messy. His life is messy enough and so you swore to yourself to never tell him.

Your friendship was already a miracle. You are his polar opposite. You are outgoing and friendly, polite - too polite sometimes - bubbly and optimistic. Severus is - well Severus. He is grumpy and quiet and rude.

You decided to befriend him in your first year. You saw him during the sorting and something about him pulled you in. You really wanted to get to know him and when you heard him talk during your first potions class you made the decision to gain his friendship however long it would take.

You started by sitting at the table next to his in the library. You’d sit there everyday, quietly doing your homework and when he stopped shooting you irritated looks when he thought you weren’t looking, you moved to sitting at his table. You simply smiled at the befuddled Severus and did your work. 

You approached befriending Severus like one might approach gaining the trust of a wild animal. Over the year a truce-kind-of study group had formed between you.

Towards the end of term he asked for your help collecting some things from the forbidden forest - Lily would never break school rules, but you are certain Severus didn’t actually need help, he just didn’t know how to tell you he wanted to spend time with you.

During the summer you send him letters, even after not receiving any back from him and when you saw him by himself in the Hogwarts Express in September you sat down next to him and you’ve been friends since.

You know a romance is even less likely than your friendship was.

“Merlin! I almost didn’t fucking recognise you!” A familiar voice says and you throw up a little in your mouth.

“Black.” You say monotonous. As if he owns the place Black sits down opposite of you on Severus’ currently empty chair.

“You’re hot! How come we never snogged in school?”

“Because whenever I am forced to face the fact that you exist I want to smash my head against a wall.” You say with a honey-sweet tone of voice at which Black’s grin only grows. He doesn’t get the hint. 

“How come you’re drinking alone, gorgeous?” Black continues undeterred, a poised and arrogant grin on his lips.

“I’m not.” His grin wavers ever so slightly but Sirius Black has always believed himself so utterly irresistible that such small details don’t matter to him.

“I don’t see anyone.” He is wearing muggle clothes, trying just a tad too hard to look like a rockstar, but he talks and holds himself like a pureblood still. He might have run away from home but he is still living off of his family’s wealth and he hasn’t changed one bit since school.

Black is (as usual) utterly unaware that he isn’t welcome. Black’s eyes roam over your face and down to your chest like he is appraising you, determining how much effort you are worth putting into seducing you. 

“I think it’s fate we meet like this! You look-” He licks his lips and a shiver of disgust rushes over your arms. “So different. Bet you cut loose that tosser Snivellus. He was clearly dragging you under. A frown on such a pretty face should be considered a fucking crime.” You clench your fists under the table. You have your wand in your boot. It would be so easy to hex him-

“Someone as stunning as you- Oi! I was about to head to this club in Dublin that recently opened to meet Moony and Wormtail - You should join me!” He winks.

“As I said - I am here with someone.”

“But you could be with me!” He laughs as if he just made a joke but you know he is dead serious. He thinks you’d gladly ditched whomever you are here with for the chance of spending time with him. “Bring her too - the more the merrier.” There is a not so subtle suggestive tone to his words and he wiggles his eyebrows. “Come on gorgeous! Someone as sexy as you should not be so uptight! Let’s have some fun, let loose a little - it’ll be worthwhile to you, I swear.”

“What a compelling offer.” Sneers Severus and your heart drops. Great. “I wonder how many you made that promise to, Black, and how many you left disappointed.” Black’s grin falters for a split second.

That’s right.

Severus is different.

He stands taller. He’s fierce and strong and you aren’t at Hogwarts anymore where it’s four against one with the teachers turning a blind eye. You have no doubt Severus would pull out his nastiest curses on Black given the chance.

“Let’s leave, Sev.” 

“Come on, gorgeous!”

“That’s not her name, but one can hardly expect a simpleton like you to care for such fine details as names.”

“Sev.”

“No wonder she looked like somebody was fucking murdered in front of her eyes when I found her - how Lily could bear being close to you for so long I’ll never understand.” Black turns towards you. “Kick this dick to the curb - I’ll buy you a drink, gorgeous.”

“She does not need you for that-”

“I can buy my own drinks.” You hiss and when Severus still makes no move towards leaving, you grab your jacket and storm off. Let them duel like little children if they want, but you won’t get in the middle of that. 

The cold hair of the night hits you while you run down the street. Tears sting in your eyes and you feel so stupid and pathetic for crying. Nothing even happened. You don’t know what’s going on- that’s a lie. Severus sounded like he was about to suggest you’re with him and therefore don’t need Black to buy you drinks which…it’s not wrong. You were at the pub with Severus and you were going to make him pay (he’s a Professor now after all and from what Sev let on the pay isn’t bad) but it wasn’t a date. And Severus suggesting or intending to suggest that hurts. You want it to be a date goddamn! You’ve wanted it for over eight years!

Severus calls your name but you just wrap your arms tighter around yourself and continue down the empty street on the outskirts of London.

“Just wait!” He catches up to you. “What a fucking wanker.” He huffs.

“Mh.”

“What did he say to you? I should have hexed him! I knew it!”

“Drop it.”

“No, I will not drop it! He made you cry- come on tell me what he said and I’ll-”

“What?!” Abruptly you stop walking and spin around to face Severus. He looks at you perplexed, his cloak billowing behind him in the breeze. “You’ll go and start a duel? Why? I told you to drop it.”

“He’s a fucking cavemen! Just the way he looked at you-” Severus grimaces. A muscle in his jaw tenses and he flexes his wand hand.

“Why the fuck do you suddenly feel the need to defend my honour?! You just ignored me in there- nevermind. I’m tired. I want to go home.”

“Don’t let Black ruin our night-”

“You ruined our night! I asked you to leave, you ignored me. I ask you to drop it, you ignore me. I don’t want you to fight Black! We aren’t at school anymore - you’ll get arrested!” Something you have never before seen crosses through Severus’ eyes. Something dark. A cold shiver runs down your spine and you take an involuntary step back.

“I wouldn’t be arrested, Sunshine.” He says, voice low, rumbling like thunder, a muttered promise of destruction and ruin and heat pools in your belly. That he called you by his nickname for you which he uses very sparingly, if ever, doesn’t help the matter. Severus takes a step forward. The heat morphs into a twisting, curling mass that takes your breath away. Severus looms over you, shadows dancing over his pale skin, drawing his cheekbones into an even sharper contrast and you gulp.

“You think Luci is going to come and rescue you?”

“Lucius? I don’t need Lucius for that.”

“Do you even fucking hear yourself?!” Your voice echoes through the empty streets, thrown back off the house.

“He made you cry!”

“Why does it matter?!”

“Because-” He clenches his jaw, his fists shake with suppressed rage. His nostrils flare and for a split second a tingling sensation winds around your heart at the expression in his eyes - the softness in the middle of a raging storm. A lone, untouched, unbothered island in the midst of a roaring ocean. 

Severus exhales. Tension falls off his frame and the expression is gone.

“Fine.” He says quietly. “Let’s go then.” And he walks past you.

“No.” You can hear his steps stop behind you. Tears drip over your cheeks and you stubbornly wipe them away. “Say what you wanted to say.”

“I thought you’re tired.”

“Say it.”

“It’s- it doesn’t matter.”

“I’m not moving until you say it.” You cross your arms in front of your chest. Behind you Severus sighs and you can practically hear him pinch the bridge of his nose like he does whenever you annoy him.

“You sound like a spoiled child.”

“Good practice then. You’ll have to deal with a lot of those, Professor.”

“Are you- I have the feeling you’re angry with me.” You spin around and glare at Severus. He’s not good with emotions, sure - but now he’s just being dense.

“What made you think that?” You deadpan. He rolls his eyes and his disregard for your feelings drives you mad. 

“Black’s a bastard-”

“This is Warren all over again!”

“Yeah and I was fucking right about Warren wasn’t I?” A vein on his forehead pulses, but you don’t give a shit. Warren was your first boyfriend and Severus behaved absolutely rotten towards you.

“Warren was a huge mistake, yes - but he was my mistake to make! What- do you actually fucking think I would ever fucking touch Black? Just the thought gives me an STD!” The barest flicker of amusement flashes over Severus’ features. “I just- I don’t get why you overreact like this everytime I talk to a guy. And it’s not like I was engaging Black there! The fucknugget is just to stupid to get a hint!”

“I-”

“There it is again! You did it again! What is it that you can’t tell me? Come on Sev! You can tell me everything. When did you start having secrets from me?” It’s a hit to your ego as much as you don’t like admitting it. 

You have always been Severus’ safespace. 

He told you things he never even told Lily! Something you didn’t know until third year when Lily asked whether Severus’ parents are ‘fighting again’ when you knew Tobias dickward Snape beat Sev with his belt the day before the Hogwarts Express left for the new term. You fucking healed him in you compartment because his ribs were broken and she asked whether they were fighting. 

Why can’t he tell you this?

Another tear slips over your lower lid and slides down your check. Your bottom lip quivers. You suppress a sniffle and nod. 

You have never felt further away from him than you do at this precise moment. It feels like Severus is sand slipping through your fingers and the harder you try to hold onto him, to the way it was before, the faster he slips away. Maybe too much has changed. Maybe he’s too different. Maybe this unlikely friendship was doomed from the beginning.

You know you’re about to start bawling and that’s the last you want Severus to see.

“Alright…I see.” You whisper. “Life’s different now. We’re keeping secrets now…”

“Sunshine-”

“No- no, ‘tis fine-” You roughly wipe your eyes. “See you- see you sometime….congratulations again.” You turn around to find a quiet alleyway to disapparate to your flat and break down there like a pathetic little teen that got her pathetic little heart broken without ever even working up the courage to confess her pathetic feelings. 

Your steps sound horribly loud in the dark, cold night and with every step you take away from Severus you feel like you’re losing him more, every step is another crack, another break, another insurmountable obstacle between you. The cold wind cuts through your clothes with ease and you shiver. 

“I love you.”

You stop dead in your tracks. Your heart skips a beat or two or maybe it forgets how to work entirely. 

Severus’ voice is quiet, uncertain like it has not been since second year when he thought you didn’t want to be friends with him anymore after he lashed out at you.

“Sunshine- I knew Warren would only hurt you. That he’s not good enough for you. He bragged in the Slytherin common room that you showed him your boobs- He said all sorts of awful things and I- I just sat there. I should have said something, defended you, made him shut up but- Warren was two years above us and…” He takes a shuddering breath, dispelling old shame and insecurity from his voice. “Black’s just like that. He never cared for you before and now all of a sudden he is dying to go out with you? You don’t even realise it, Sunshine but- you- you are stunning. You have changed so much since school, you are- fuck I don’t know- words-” He sighs and rubs his hands over his face. 

You feel numb and like you’re on fire at the same time. Of course you knew Warren spread some shit about you around, it’s why you broke up and broke his nose in the process for good measure, earning three weeks detention with McGonagall, but you wished you would have known sooner... 

And- Severus loves you? No- that can’t be right- He’s in love with Lily- it’s always been Lily-

“You’re happier somehow- you- you’re radiant and beautiful and- you’ve grown up so much and- and- I love you. I’ve loved you for years- I want to protect you. I want to guard your happiness and yes I’d go back to knock out every single one of Black’s teeth for talking to you like that. You just have to say the word - sunshine - I’m pretty sure there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you. And I know I’m not bloody good enough for you- I am rude and surly and miserable to be around - I don’t expect you to feel the same…I- fuck I don’t know-”

“You love me?”

“I love you.”

“I thought you love Lily.”

“Lily is- was- still is- I have no goddamn clue- she’s like a sister. I love her. And I think marrying Potter was a huge mistake and that she’ll divorce him in about three years - if she manages to stand him that long and when she does I hope- I hope we can mend our friendship…maybe- but- but I don’t love her like that. Not like I love you.”

Severus loves you.

Has loved you for years.

Severus loves you… You swirl around and before your anxiety can overpower your heart, screaming and aching and thrashing about in your chest you cup his face with your trembling hands and press your lips against his.

Severus stiffens. For a moment you just stand there, on your tiptoes to be able to reach him, holding onto him, feeling his heat against you, your lips exploding with electrifying tingling. Your stomach clenches and twists, flip flops and gives birth to a thousand erratic butterflies and all flutter around in a whirlwind of emotions that are too colourful, too many, too intense to ever find words worthy of describing the sensation.

Cautiously Severus puts his hands on your back and moves his lips against yours. You’re still crying, tears stream over your cheeks and run along the curves of your face to your lips. 

As if woken from an enchanted slumber, Severus drags you against his chest and kisses you fiercely. One arm wrapped around your back and clutching at your waist, and one hand cradling the back of your head, long slender fingers threading through your hair. You grab the front of his robes and cling to him. 

You both stumble a few steps and your back hits the brick wall of a house. Severus licks along the seam of your lips which you happily part for him. Your kiss grows sloppy and desperate. Your tongues meet gingerly at first but soon the slight air of discomfort and wariness at this development vanishes, flies away into the cool air of the night, gone and forgotten, as unimportant as your stupid fight.

Severus is kissing you. You are finally kissing Severus. He loves you. He has loved you for years.

Everything is good.

“Sev-” You whimper against his lips between two kisses. You try to break them, to wrench an inch of air between you but Severus is like a man dying of thirst that finally found a water source and is clenching his burning thirst. “Sev-” You push against his chest. Severus releases your lips, but doesn’t move away, doesn’t let go of you. 

He leans his forehead against yours and blinks back at you, his dark eyes seemingly trying to pervade yours, to find a direct path to your deepest thoughts, a link between you and him that is untouchable by anybody else, that runs deeper than any other connection between two people.

“Don’t you want to invite me back to your place?” You murmur and tug playfully at the button just above his throat. Severus’ eyes darken. A muscle in his jaw jumps. Your cunt clenches around nothing. Needy, desperate, wanting.

He clears his throat and steps back. How the fuck does he still look put together? How can he manage to reign in that storm in his eyes so expertly, so fast and clean while you’re a panting, sweaty, needy mess after just a few damn kisses?

“You won’t like what I’d do then.” He says, voice heavy with what he leaves unsaid. You push yourself off the wall and wrap your arms around his shoulders. You trail a few chaste kisses up the side of his jaw and flick the tip of your tongue over his earlobe. Severus inhales sharply and flexes his hands again.

“I don’t break easy, Sev.” You whisper and press a kiss to his ear. “You should know that.” He takes another shuddering breath and just when you think you’ll have to deal with the aftermath of his kiss on your own while picturing him nestled between your thighs (once again), he pulls you against his chest and holds you in a bone-breaking grip. You feel the familiar pull of side-along apparition and in the next moment you smell the even more familiar, dusty scent of Severus’ house. The smell of books is new, added after Severus renovated the house enough to evict his father’s influences and put his own touch to it - namely by adding a shittone of books.

Severus doesn’t give you time to catch your breath. He grabs your hand and pulls you up the stairs. You giggle and run to keep up with him. He practically kicks the door to his old room open (you know for a fact he has not even touched the door to his parents room since his father died) and crushes his lips against yours as soon as he pulls you over the threshold.

The burn marks from where Severus used to zap flies with his wand are still on the ceiling. The little pencil sketches you made near the baseboards are as well. He replaced his bed though. A brand new double which you are being steered towards now.

“Severus-” You moan against his lips and tear at the buttons of his new robes.

“Is this real?” He whispers back and leans his forehead against yours again, watching you struggle with his clothes. “I’ve pictured this so many times- thought about how I would feel to have you here- is this happening? Or am I sleeping?”

“It’s real.” You say, lips against his recently freed throat. “I’m here.”

“You’re here…”

“Severus-” You hesitate and pause your quest of revealing Severus’ body to your eyes. “I’ve never done this-” Suddenly you feel shaky and overwhelmed.

“Warren-?”

“Is full of shit. He lied- about all of it. Have you-” He nods, but there’s a distant expression in his eyes that tells you it’s not something he wants to talk about. Probably something he’s ashamed of. You know the kind of company Lucius, Mulciber, Rosier and the other’s like to keep and don’t pry further.

“I’ll trust you then.” You murmur and sit down on the bed, pulling Severus down with you.

“I’d never want to hurt you, Sunshine.” You kiss and between kisses scoot up the bed until your head is resting on the soft pillows and Severus’ lean body between your thighs. “I’ll take care of you.” He mutters against the corner of your mouth and kisses your cheek. “Such good care.” He trails down your jaw. “Like Black or Warren never fucking could.”

“I never wanted them.” You moan. Your body moves on its own, knowing precisely what you want and need even if your mind has yet to catch up. Your legs wrap around his hips, your back arches, pressing your breasts to his chest. You thread your fingers through his silky hair. “Only you.”

“Me?”

“Only you. Always you. Whenever I thought about it…when I pictured how it would feel while touching myself I only ever pictured you.”

“Oh sunshine-” He groans and rolls his hips against you.

“Sev-” Severus draws his wand and mutters a quick spell. Something curls in your stomach, it’s the weirdest sensation and for a second you are utterly confused, but then your gaze meets Severus’ and you understand. Contraception spell. You didn’t even think of that. Of course Severus did. You smile. 

He mutters another charm and your clothes vanish. You squeak, blush and hide your face behind your hands.

You can hear the clanking of wood hitting wood as Severus tosses his wand onto the nightstand.

“You- fuck…” Cautiously you peek between your fingers. A faint pink tinge has spread over Severus’ cheeks and nose, down to his now fully exposed neck. He looks cute. Adorable. You take a deep breath and drop your hands. This is Severus. Your Severus. There is nothing to be afraid of with him. “You put to shame all great beauties of the comprehensive history of this world.” His words brush over your skin like a tender caress and make you shiver and burn with embarrassed heat at the same time.

“Severus-”

“It’s true. The old greek masters wish they would have had a model like you sit for their marmour statues. Such beauty has to be preserved for the ages - but you…you are just mine.”

“Who are you and what have you done to my stammering, cute, insecure Severus?” You tease. Severus’ eyes are still pinned to your breasts. He visibly snaps out of his thoughts and looks up to you. There he is. Flashing through his impossibly dark eyes for the flicker of a second before they return to the heavy gaze, consumed by carnal desire that has been ignored for too long and has now broken free with demanding force.

“He knows he’s about to find out how you feel.”

“Come and find out then.” You shoot him a challenging grin. Severus kisses you in response. He kisses you and settles more of his weight on you. His very much hard cock presses against your exposed cunt. You gasp and clutch at Severus.

“Shit- Severus- that won’t fit!”

“It will.”

“You sure?” He chuckles, his eyes lighting up with amusement like they do so rarely and you relax.

“I’m sure.” You trust him. You love him. You want him. He’ll take care of you. 

You let him take control. Severus kisses you more. He seems determined to cover every inch of your body with all the confessions of his love he has missed out on. All the elapsed opportunities. All the kisses you could have shared if you both had had just a little more courage. But it doesn’t matter. You are here now. You are together in his bed, skin pressed against skin, breathing the same air, staring into each other’s eyes longingly while his hand slips between your thighs.

You’re soaked and whimper when his slender fingers gather your slickness, brushing your aching cunt with featherlight touches. He draws gentle, slow circles over your clit. Pressure and heat build in your belly and deep inside your cunt fast. You cling to his shoulders, digging your nails into his skin without even noticing.

“I wondered so many times how you’d look…” He murmurs. His lips brush over yours as he speaks. His breath dances across your cheeks.

“...in the throes of pleasure.” Severus’ voice is deeper than you’ve ever heard it. A smoky rumble that goes straight to your core.

He teases your entrance until you’re squirming and rolling your hips against his touch before finally plunging a finger inside you. “I wondered how you’d sound…how I would feel knowing it was me making you feel like that…” You give him the answer promptly. Moaning and whining, gasping for air.

“Sev!” You throw your head back and arch your back. The pressure keeps building and building, beyond anything you ever managed yourself. He adds a second finger and with it a delicious, stinging stretch. He curls his fingers and presses the heel of his palm to your clit. You squirm under Severus’ intense gaze that seems to look right through you, through your skin down to your very soul. He watches every flicker of pleasure and desperation he paints onto your face with utter, devoted, undisturbed attention to you and nothing else. Nothing else matters.

Severus knows you like no other. It feels right to share this with him as well.

He loves you.

You still can’t believe it. 

“Sev!”

“Cum for me, sunshine. Cum on my fingers. I want to know- I’m done wondering. I want to know.” You do. Crying out and panting his name, thrashing about beneath him as waves upon waves of intense pleasure run havoc over you, but it’s fine. You can let go with Severus.

“I need you Sev- please-” You gasp even before your orgasm has released you from its clutches. “Please please please- Sev-” He groans. 

“Fuck and I thought you sounded needy in my head.” Severus mutters and aligns himself with you. He takes his time, giving you time to adjust to his girth, slowly pushing deeper and deeper into your still spasming channel, forcing it to give way to him. He grunts and whispers praise, how tight you are, how good you feel for him, how well you’re taking him. You whimper and hold onto him, leaving red streaks across his back. Severus doesn’t even bat an eye at it.

He buries his head in the crook of your neck and savours your every sound, every twitch and throb of your cunt finally, finally gloved around him.

“Sunshine-”

“Severus…” More words aren’t needed. He rests there, deep inside you, his body pressed to your trembling smaller one, shielding you from the cold of his room and the world itself and you know there is a promise in there somewhere.

“I can’t believe it-” He murmurs and kisses your collarbone, down to your sternum. He kisses and licks, sucks, grazes your skin with his teeth. “You feel…incredible…you’re so good for me sunshine-” He kisses your breasts, flicks his tongue over your hardened nipples, licks broad strokes and teasingly closes his lips around them.

When Severus finally moves again he does so in slow, measured thrusts. He watches your expression with hidden wariness, watches your every reaction. He can’t hide from you though. He is waiting for you to regret this. To tell him to stop. He’s afraid of letting go, afraid of scaring you off, of losing you.

But he’ll never lose you.

You buck your hips and whine impatiently. “Come on Sev.” You whimper. “Fuck me like you really want to fuck me.”

“It’s your first time I will not-”

“It’s done, Sev. Bye bye virginity! That train of stupid little things society places far too much worth in has left the station indefinitely. Now fuck me.”

“Sun-”

“Severus Snape! Fuck. me. properly.” He groans. His eyes roll to the back of his head.

“Fine.” Severus grunts and a rush of excitement pulses through your stomach and drenches his throbbing cock in more fluids. “I warned you.”

The bed creaks dangerously under his thrusts. His hips slap against yours with a wet, fleshy sound that drives you crazy.

“Oh fuck yes- yes- just like that- that’s-” You babble more nonsense, moaning and shredding Severus’ back with your nails. He fucks you mercilessly into the mattress, spearing you open with his cock with each hard thrust. Your entire body trembles under his thorough attention. Your cunt yields to him in wet, fluttering excitement. It cherishes the promise of soreness his thrusts leave behind. 

Any attempt at grasping for and trying to hold onto one of the many thoughts rushing through your fuzzy, hazy mind is a fruitless endeavour.

“Fuck! Ahhh- so good…” Severus mutters against your collarbone and plunges his cock into your drenched cunt again before pulling out almost completely and driving back in with such force he knocks your head against the headboard. You both laugh.

“Sorry-”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.” You weave your fingers through his hair and pull him down into a sloppy, passionate kiss. You gasp and moan into the kiss and drink up the way Severus continues to lose the iron grip on his emotions he had cultivated since graduation, revealing more and more of the love-starved, unapologetic, fierce man you know him as. The man that feels so freely, so intensely, so deeply that it hurts him so much.

Every thrust, every kiss, every exploring hand gliding over your sweaty skin, squeezing your breasts in testing, careful motions is a testament to how deep his feelings for you run and have been running for so long. 

It breaks free of him in violent bursts and buries you beneath roaring pleasure. 

Severus is not good with words.

But he will be damned if he doesn’t show you what he can’t figure out how to say.

“Severus-” You moan, joining the creaking bed and his grunts, the symphony of your love. This would not be a pretty, romantic, fairytale like love. You are both messy and broken in your own ways. It will be hard. It will take work and compassion and will seem impossible at moments, especially in the midst of a war, but Severus is worth it.

To you he is worth it.

He always was and will always be.

You whine in protest when Severus pulls out of you but before you have a chance to voice it otherwise or even glare at him, Severus flips you over.

“Put your hands on the headboard.” He rasps in your ear. You are shaking and struggle to keep yourself upright, but Severus’ arms around your waist stabilise you. You hold onto the headboard so tight your knuckles turn white. Severus is kissing your neck, nibbling and sucking, painting his marks onto you as if to say ‘I was here’ or maybe ‘back off’. Maybe both. Maybe more.

He fills you up again, reaching much deeper than before and you gasp at the unfamiliar, intense feeling.

“Your cunt clutches me so hard-” He grunts and bottoms out. “Sucks me in- all soaked and desperate.”

“Sev-”

“Hmm…yes. I’m here…” He sucks the delicate skin on your neck into his mouth and bites down gently, at which a loud, wanton moan breaks free of you and he bites down harder. 

You meet his thrust with your hips, his cockhead hits a spot inside you it previously missed and you fall apart. His grip around your waist turns bruising and Severus pulls you back. Your grip around the headboard goes slack. You melt into his touch, twitching and shivering, whimpering, mind fuzzy with always new, higher, stronger, more intense levels of pleasure.

Severus holds you to his chest, your thighs on either side of his, useless, hands helplessly holding onto his arms, and moves your body up and down his hard shaft. Using you and the fluttering of your cunt as your orgasm continues to coarse through you. He grunts and bites your shoulder, harder than before and a particularly strong spasm shakes your body. You drop your head onto his shoulder, melting further against him.

“Again-” You rasp and present your neck to him. A grin flashes over Severus’ lips. Sweaty strands of hair stick to his forehead, his eyes are glazed over with hazy lust.

“My pleasure.” He coos, but instead of indulging you, he kisses you. One small, chaste peck after another. You squirm against his grip, claw at his arms, painting more red streaks on his pale skin.

“You never told me you got a tattoo-” You murmur. The sight of the jet black snake and skull on Severus’ left inner arm pulls your mind out of its haze and into a brief moment of clarity. Severus hesitates ever so slightly in his thorough, teasing attention he’s paying to your neck. Something about the tattoo unsettles you, though you can’t exactly decide why.

“Must have forgotten. It’s new.”

“Hmm…very metal.”

“I don’t like it.”

“Why’d you get it then?”

“I thought I would.” Severus sucks on your neck and that plummets you back into mind-numbing, all-consuming, ecstatic pleasure.

“Maybe we should go to Dublin after.” Severus purrs in your ear. “Show Black all your pretty marks.”

“Idiot.” You giggle.

“I’m going to cum-”

“Cum inside me.”

“I don’t have to.”

“Please, Sev! Cum in me.” Severus pushes you forward and you fall face first into the mattress with a tiny outrages squeal. Severus laughs at you and grips your hips, adjusting them to sit flush with his own. He fucks you roughly into the pillows. You clutch at the sheets. Severus loses more and more of what little composure he still had. He mutters things you can’t make out.

His thrusts are accompanied with lewd, wet noises and the headboard hitting the wall.

“Severus!”

“I’ll fill you up ahh- with my cum- leave you dripping-”

“Yesyesyes-” He moves your hips with each thrust, pulling you back into him as he buries his cock inside you. His balls hit your sensitive cunt. His fingers dig into your skin, sure to be leaving bruises. 

Severus cums with your name on his lips, tumbling over them in a low, reverent, lust-drenched prayer which you join with your own faint, desperate whimpers.

Feeling the hot spurts of cum hit your inner walls violently kicks you over the edge for the third time. Severus slumps above you, pressing his forehead to your back between your shoulder blades, panting and spent.

You stay like that for a while. Both of you trying to catch your breath, relishing in the buzzing glow of your aftershock and the feeling of each other’s love on your skin and warming you from the inside.

Gently Severus pulls his softening cock from you and lies down next to you, pulling you into a tight embrace.

“Sorry.” He murmurs in your hair and presses a tender kiss to the top of your head. “I hurt you.”

“I liked it.” You murmur back and place your hands against his chest, nuzzling your face to his neck. “Why did it take us so bloody long to finally do this?” He chuckles. He tugs a strand of messy hair behind your ear. You look up to meet his gaze. It’s heavy with emotions, a swirling storm of love and care and fear. You reach out to him in a futile attempt of soothing it. The pads of your fingers meet his cheek and he shudders under your touch, before leaning into it. His eyes fall closed and for a brief moment he looks at peace. Content. Home.

“I-” He opens his mouth as if to say something but closes it again. His brows pull together into a frown, a deep crease forming between them. His lips go white as he presses them together into a thin line. His jaw tenses. “I’ve made a terrible mistake-” His voice is hoarse from unshed tears and the effort of suppressing them. He loses. One escapes from between his closed lids and slides down his cheek, meeting your fingers. You wipe it away, but more follow. 

“I’m trying to fix it- I am! But I-”

“It’s ok.” You whisper and press a tender kiss to his jaw. 

So he did it…You had your suspicions, of course you did, but a part of you refused to believe Severus capable of those horrible acts committed by the Death Eaters. And you were right. The pain, regret and self-loathing is so evident in his face. He can’t bear to look at you.

“We’ll fix it. Together. It’ll be fine.”

You are there when the Aurors storm his house to arrest him. You were sitting on the threadbare sofa in his arms as he read to you. 

You tell him not to resist, to not tell them anything.

You send an owl to Dumbledore.

You are at the trial, sitting on one of the benches. Severus looks miserable sitting in the middle of the courtroom, deep shadows under his eyes, a tremor in his wand hand. The chains of the chair are wrapped tightly around his arms. He avoids your eyes.

Dumbledore defends him passionately. Recounting Severus’ turning spy for him, reporting you-know-who’s steps to Dumbledore, how invaluable his intel had been. He recounts the dangers Severus was willing to face. He demands he is released. And he is. The Wizengamot clears him of all charges and you walk out of the Ministry with him, holding his still trembling hand in your own.

“Is this real?” He whispers and you bite the inside of your cheek to not start crying. You want to be strong for him.

“Yes.” You kiss his cheek and wrap your arms around his neck. “It’s real. You’re a free man. I’m here. I will always be here. We’ll figure this out.”

“Together?”

“Together. I love you, Severus.”

“I love you too, Sunshine.”

[the-californicationist]

Brisance (1/2)

When Johnny MacTavish finds the woman of his dreams, he didn't expect her to be strapped with ten pounds of C-4... but he kinda likes it. Or: How Johnny MacTavish learned to stop worrying and love the bombmaker...

Chapter 1 // Chapter 2

Brisance

— August —

Ghost sighed, knocking his bootheel on the edge of the desk where he was perched, smoking his last cigarette, and scrolling through Reddit threads, bored to death and letting everyone know about it. 

“I can hear ye, Ghostie. I’ll jus’ be a wee bit longer,” Johnny called out over his shoulder. 

His masked lieutenant sighed audibly. He thought Soap looked ridiculous in that lighted, magnifying headset, the plastic lenses making his big blue eyes look like saucers. The sergeant had been hunched over an inert explosive device and its mechanical guts for the better part of four hours now, inspecting every inch of the thing, commenting on technical mambo jumbo that Simon hadn’t ever heard - or cared - about. Bombs were not his forte. He knew how to set one, and he knew how to avoid them, but that was about it. 

Soap let out a low whistle of admiration, and Ghost rolled his eyes, knowing some brainy quip was coming next about the “detonation velocity” or the “elastomer bonding” or whatever demolitionist jargon he was moved to speak on. 

“Innit tha’ the bonniest thing there ever was, mate?” Johnny crooned, sounding like a proud father. 

“Does this one kill us real special-like?” Ghost snarled, tired of Soap’s preening exploration of this device.

“You dinnae understand, LT. This is… well, it’s the bloody Mona Lisa of IEDs.”

“Come off it.”

“No, I’m serious. Come see,” Johnny moved his chair over to show off the open, black box where the device’s innards were housed, pointing to a series of tightly-strung wires and cables, “Ye ken how the last one cut through three layers of concrete at the Kadurin silos?”

“Aye,” Simon sauntered over, peering into the mess of wires, trying to divine what his sergeant was seeing.

“See this block here? It would take ten times the RDX to get a high enough brisance to pound through all three layers at once,” Soap sounded like a kid at Christmas, “But, look at how this bastard staggered his fuse layers. He used a visco fuse, cut it like a flying fish, and only had to send one electric match to charge it! Bloody fuckin’ brilliant.”

“English, MacTavish,” Ghost groaned, “Please…”

“This wee box survived because it contains the initial housing, but the bomb itself was in the fuckin’ room, not the detonation package.”

The lieutenant furrowed his brow, taking one last drag of his cigarette, and begging Johnny to clarify,

“So, you’re sayin’ that the bomber was in the cafe before the device was planted?”

“Aye,” Johnny’s eyes got even wider, comical when set behind his magnified lenses, “And tha’s not it. They made this box to last. Someone is sendin’ us a message.”

“What does it say?” Ghost looked back into the wires, expecting them to spell out H-E-L-L-O or F-U-C-K-O-F-F. 

“I dinnae ken. Not yet. But, I think he left me a clue.”

“A clue? The fuck…”

“See this? This is a visco fuse alright, but it’s Cordtex, and its got traces of collodion.”

Johnny was waiting on the edge of his seat, buzzing with anticipation, praying for Ghost to have the same, nearly-orgasmic eureka moment that he was. And yet, bored dark eyes glared down at him, waiting for the punchline. So, Soap gave it to him,

“He’s makin’ these from scratch. And,” Soap ripped off the headset and stared down into the box in amazement, “I think he’s a Brit. He could’ve just used any old visco fuse, but he didn’t. He went bloody far out of his way to make these, and I wonder…”

The headset slid back on and Johnny returned to the device, picking around the mechanisms like a dog hunting for a treat, sniffing his way around for anything to chew on. 

“British,” Simon hummed, “Hm, I’ll tell Cap. Maybe he can get Laswell to send it off for testing.”

Soap didn’t respond. As Ghost left the room, he called back over his shoulder, 

“Don’t stay up all night, Johnny. Got PT at 0430.”

“Mm-hm…” Soap replied, not bothering to look up when Ghost finally made his exit, too busy making eyes at his one true love: a beautifully crafted bomb. 

— October — 

The ticking was the worst part, but as he stared down into the blackness of a rigged, plastic tote, Johnny almost wished he would have something to keep him company, even some of that infernal ticking sound that should be happening. But, it wasn’t. The room was silent like the grave, and if Johnny made one wrong move, it would become his own. 

A voice crackled through his headset,

“Five minutes, thirty seconds.”

Gaz was keeping count for him, checking in at regular intervals, his voice trembling from the stress. Johnny wished he wouldn’t worry. This was a timebomb, yes, but it needed input. Someone was waiting for something, and if he could figure out what, maybe he could stop it.

“Aye, any movement from overwatch?”

A short pause and then his lieutenant’s voice came through, 

“Negative.”

This bomb was truly a piece of work. There was no indicator, and in fact, no traceable fuse. All of the ignition was internal to the RDX modules, and there were eight of them altogether, each with its own unique housing. Johnny had disarmed five of the eight, and he was working on number six as quickly as he could. 

The bombmaker had a great deal of skill, but so did Soap, and it was less of a race than it was a fluid, complicated, one-sided conversation. With every choice in material and fuse design and chemical agent, the bombmaker was telling Johnny all about himself. 

The Semex block and guncotton in housing three, wrapped in flash paper and copper-coated fuse links? This bloke had access to high-quality chemicals. The wooden housing and saltpeter dusting in number five? When he didn’t have access to those high-quality chemicals, he was resourceful enough to know how to make do without them. The way the fuse line lay independent from the center of each housing, and yet initiated from different grafting points? Making bombs was more than just a hobby. The bastard was designing these devices like challenges, giving Johnny puzzle after puzzle, testing his abilities. 

Soap should have been angry, but he wasn’t. In fact, this particular model of IED hadn’t taken a single life. The bombed buildings were strategically placed against Makarov’s forces, almost as if this terrorist was on a mission of rebellious freedom. The Russian oligarch’s people were fighting back against their own leader, rejecting his authority. This was the work of a highly intelligent man out for justice, not a simple murderer. 

Johnny had spent the last two months discovering more and more about this particular insurgent, and now that he could see the pattern of his behavior, Soap was more likely to label him as a true freedom fighter. Laswell didn’t seem to care about labels, but Johnny felt like he almost had the captain convinced. 

“This might be someone we could pull to our side, Cap’n,” Johnny had suggested.

“Just make sure you end the day with all your fingers still fuckin’ attached, lad. How about that?” Price had sniped, but it was toothless. Johnny knew he was starting to see the pattern, too.

Staring down at his hands, all ten fingers still hard at work, he marveled at the commitment to craft in everything from the fuses to the housing shells. The sergeant cut through blocks of C-4 in cubes six and seven before Gaz had given him a seven-minute warning. As he inspected housing number eight, Johnny almost felt disappointed that he and the maker of these bombs would never meet. The things he could learn from an artist like this… 

A green laser trembled and danced in front of his face, pointing directly to the bottom of the eighth block. Johnny’s eyes shot up, finding the source right away. Through the window, a cloaked figure crouched on the roof, dressed all in black, tucked behind an air vent, their eyes pinned to him as he gaped in disbelief. 

It was him. The bombmaker was here. 

“Overwatch, target at eleven o’clock, south rooftop, copy,” Johnny’s voice gave away their position, and as soon as he heard the confirmation from Ghost, his ears also picked up on a soft, almost delicate ticking sound. Gunshots popped wildly outside, and the bombmaker disappeared, his body lithe and quick, avoiding danger and leaving Johnny to die at the hands of his creation. 

As quick as he could, Johnny cut through the eighth housing, searching for the fuse. But, he came up empty. Then, he remembered where the laser had been pointing. He turned the dark layer over and saw a hole in the RDX material. On nothing but instinct, he cut down into it and hit something solid. The housing broke open to reveal a wristwatch. 

There was no fuse. And all of the other housings had been rendered inert, so there was no danger. 

Why would the bombmaker start the timer without anything to blow? Johnny’s mind swam with possibilities, and then he turned the watch over to inspect the back. Written in big, bold pen, Soap saw the letters JFM on the dull metal. His initials. John Fergus MacTavish. Not even Ghost knew his middle name.

Suddenly, Johnny heard more ticking. It sounded like a collection of clocks had just come to life. He dug around in the box, finding it empty, but he discovered the final clue too late. A small lip on the edge of the crate hinted at another layer of explosive material, hidden from plain sight.

“Shite! Fall back!” He shouted.

There was a false bottom, and when Johnny pulled it up, he discovered ten more tightly-packed Semex blocks that were fused up together with that same Cordtex line, ready to explode. All over the plasticine blocks, the letters JFM were cut into the material, recurring like an endless pattern. As he looked down at his initials littering the bomb he was trying to diffuse, his head swam with confusion. But, there was no time for that.

Johnny slammed the lid shut and bolted, running for cover. His legs burned as they hauled him out of the stone building, his feet sinking into the dirt and sand outside of the door. Soap could see the cover wall, and he dug in, using every bit of strength he had to reach it and scale it before he was just a stain on the dirt. He barely made it, and as he tumbled behind the sturdy wall, he could feel the searing heat of the blast on his back and legs. It felt like needles were stinging his skin; it was so hot. 

A few moments went by, and although the world was quiet for Johnny, he knew that was just the hearing loss. In fact, he understood that the reality was quite the opposite. As he looked up, he saw Price stomping over to him. The captain was yelling something, but his voice couldn’t reach his ears. All he could see was the bearded man hollering and carrying on with a wrathful look on his face. Then, bits and pieces came through. 

“... could’ve… killed… fuck.. thinkin’... Johnny?!”

Price tried again, pulling his sergeant up from the floor by his gear vest, 

“Do you hear me? What the fuck was that? Almost lost you, boy. Jesus Christ!” Captain Price sounded like he was underwater, but at least the words were coming through. 

“Sorry, sir. But, I needed to find the last clue,” Johnny held up the watch as if it was his well-deserved trophy.

“You were almost the last clue, you bloody idiot,” Price ran his hand through his hair and knocked his boonie hat onto his shoulders, totally exasperated. 

Soap knew he should feel guilty, or at least a little fearful, but everything was different, now. After the realization that the bombs were designed specifically for him, Johnny found himself actually looking forward to the next one. 

— November — 

The mission had gone sideways right from the start. Their comms had been nothing but staticky garbage while they were clearing out the Kotovo Blocs, trying their best to evacuate civilians while simultaneously managing Makarov’s squadrons. It was a crapshoot every time they opened another door. Half the time, a mother and her children rushed out screaming, and the other half, they were greeted by bullets. 

Even worse, they’d been separated by a particularly nasty collection of smoke-filled pipe bombs. It was nothing nasty, but it was enough of a hindrance that they’d lost formation. The plan was to regroup at an abandoned fueling station one klick southeast of their current position, and that’s where Johnny was heading. He tried to connect on comms again, but all he got was soft static. 

“Ghost, Gaz come in! Bravo-seven to Bravo-actual. Do you copy?”

No one replied. He was flying solo. His senses were on high alert, and all of his movements were carefully calculated, measured, and aligned to his new mission: survive.

Luckily, Makarov’s men had been retreating, and there was enough gunfire to scare off most of the civilians, but it was still a long way to the fuel station. 

Suddenly, in his ears, he heard a voice loud and clear.

“Bravo-seven, huh? I think we both know that’s not your name, soldier.”

Johnny’s mind reeled. It was a woman’s voice. She had a sort of blended accent, something he’d heard all of Laswell’s spies use so that no one would be able to tell where they were from. 

“Who is this?” He asked, checking his six and making sure to stay tucked below the window ledge. It would make moving through the bloc much slower, but if someone was in a sniper position, he couldn’t take any chances. 

“Mm,” she whined, “You wound me, Mr. MacTavish. I thought you’d know me by now, especially after I left you that little gift basket in Levin.”

Soap stopped in his tracks, whispering even though he was very much alone,

“It’s you…”

Her voice turned sinister,

“Vladimir is mine. Stay out of Kotovo. You’re too handsome to be in more than one piece.”

The noise in his headset went dead and he knew that she was gone. When he saw movement out of the corner of his eye – a flash of a black cloak, tattered and torn like a destitute comic book hero – Soap looked to the rooftop to find her. 

The moment his eyes met her face, she pulled back her hood to reveal her eyes, piercing and furious, and a full, pouting mouth. When she caught him gaping at her, crouching far out of cover and in a state of pure shock, her lips turned up into a slight smile before she jumped down the opposite side of the bloc building, disappearing into the pelting snow.

“... –vish! Co– … John– where ar– … Johnny!”

“LT?” Johnny tried to listen in to his comms, ducking back under the window and rushing out of the building, “I found her. In pursuit west north west to the docks.”

“What? Soap, we need to RV at the fueling st–”

“There’s no time! I cannae let her get away.”

“Wha’dya mean her?” Gaz asked, interrupting their back and forth, “The terrorist is a fuckin’ bird?”

“Aye,” Johnny panted, running flat out through the thick snowfall, chasing her across the parking lot of the bloc complex, “Bonnie as fuck, too.”

“Are you out of your goddamn mind, MacTavish?! Get the fuck back to RV. Tha’s a bloody order!” The captain demanded. 

“Aye, sir. Be there in two shakes.”

Johnny muted his mic and ignored the protests from the other end of the comm line. They were coming for him, predictably, so if things did go south, he knew he’d have some backup. 

Suddenly, just as his wee birdie was making her way down the main road to the docks, gunfire popped across her path. On instinct Johnny raised his weapon and returned fire, getting her attention. She peered over her shoulder at him, surprised that he was not shooting at her instead, and pulled her handgun to help him take down the small group of Makarov’s men who were advancing on their position. 

Enemy squads were in direct pursuit, and it was hard to tell if Soap or the bombmaker was their main target. It didn’t matter, in the end. Johnny took out the first squad in a matter of moments, barely reducing his speed to return fire, but there were two stragglers from the second squad, hidden behind a small electrical shed, popping off stray shots in her direction. 

He altered his course, but she stopped him in his tracks. She’d shot at the ground right in front of him, keeping him away from the shed. Soap slowed, but he changed back to his original path, not understanding her motive. It wasn’t until he saw a blinding, golden blaze of fire erupt out of the electrical housing and felt the shockwave of her bomb rattle around in his chest that he understood why she had stopped him. 

“Holy fuck…” he breathed.

Her teasing voice cut through his comms, silencing the chatter from the 141,

“Did ya like that, baby?”

Soap peeled his gaze away from the fiery explosion and found her perched behind a shipping container about fifty meters ahead of him. She was breathing hard, and her body was tense, but she was looking straight at him, a clever smile pasted across her mouth. 

He smiled back,

“Tha’ was bloody beautiful, lass.”

Then, her eyes left him, turning back to her path towards the boat slips, and her tone became resigned,

“You can’t come with me, soldier.”

The line went dark. She had cut his entire communication. He couldn’t even hear Price barking orders anymore. Soap peeled the buds out of his ears and let them hang down by his throat mic. Still, he pursued her. He wasn’t going to give up that easy. 

He was also gaining on her. She was trying her best to weave between shipping crates and huge piles of knotted ropes, but it was no use. He was faster, stronger, and by the time he was ten paces away, she knew she was caught. Suddenly, she ducked into a rundown storage building and disappeared into the room. 

Johnny followed right behind, ignoring his training to stop, assess, and plan his ingress. 

He came into a large, nearly empty room. At the far end, the ceiling was missing from the roof and it cast pale sunshine down into the open area. It illuminated two large wooden crates where his fiery little bird was sitting, waiting for him. The floor was covered in sand and snow, and he couldn’t see the boards beneath his boots. It was like there was no floor at all. The outside was inside, and the destroyed roof let in the wilderness where there should have been cold, clean civilization. 

Johnny stopped in his tracks, holding his gun at the ready position, staring up at her like she was the winged Nike, shaken by her power and amazed by her beauty. She was everything he’d ever wanted in a woman. Her lips were pillowy and expressive, her eyes full of her sharp intellect, her body soft with curves yet heavy with muscle… to mix her stunning appearance with her phenomenal talent with demolition engineering seemed almost blasphemous. No one woman could be so perfect, and yet…

“You shouldn’t have come here.” Her voice was soft like rain, and it hit his skin in the same way, leaving little drops of its effect behind to remind him of it. 

“Why?” He asked, standing very still as if any movement might scare her off again. 

“I’m going to a place where no one ever comes back from. Alone. Vladimir Makarov killed my sister, and he has to pay for that. I will make him pay.” 

As she finished her explanation, she smiled in a sorrowful, resigned way, understanding that she was on a suicide mission but unwilling to change her course. 

“He will, bonnie. We willnae let him get away this time. You have my word,” Johnny promised her, earnestly. 

“My hero,” she teased. Then, after a short pause, she asked, “Do you have a sister, Mr. MacTavish?”

“Aye. Three wildlings, in fact,” he had taken no truth serum and yet it came pouring out of him anyway. 

“Bridgette, Maggie, and Jenny…” She reported back, “All older than you, right?”

Johnny’s heart stopped in his chest, 

“How’d you –”

“When a handsome, young, black ops soldier comes in and defuses a sixteen stage daisycutter that I designed myself, I make sure to learn a thing or two about him. And,” she unzipped her jacket and began to pull it off of her shoulders, “I also know that a man like that, a man with sisters… is not the kind of man who just gives up.”

“No, lass. I willnae give up. Let me help you. If we… oh, Christ,” Johnny watched in horror as she pulled the jacket the rest of the way off to reveal an intricately woven vest packed with explosives with perfectly laid Cordtex wires winding in and out of each of the housings, live and ready to blow. 

“Hands up!” Price’s voice echoed through the empty room as he, Gaz, and Ghost filled in the space behind their sergeant, guns pointed right at her, their red laser sights dancing on her chest like fireflies. 

Johnny held out his hand with the signal to halt, and everyone froze. She, however, slid off of the crate and walked over to him, little white flecks of snow sticking to her hair and cheeks, taking each step slowly and deliberately. As she got closer and closer, Soap could smell her sweat, heady and musky, and he could hear her breaths, hanging on each of her exhales like it was some heavenly edict, memorizing the pace of them like it would unlock all of the world’s many secrets, a passcode to the truth. 

She whispered, inches from his open mouth, 

“You can help me,” she put her hands on his neck, using her thumbs to rub against the scruff of his five o’clock shadow, letting the stiff hairs burn under her touch, “By staying the fuck out of my way.”

Despite the warning timbre of her voice, she was open and pliant for him, letting her lips hang open slightly, like she was expecting his kiss. Johnny leaned toward her, his mouth slotting across hers, tasting her on his tongue and moving his body into her space. He ignored the danger, well aware of the fact that she was strapped with enough Semtex to blow a city block into a dirty crater, and he kissed her deeply, as if they had been lovers for years, as if this was not their first touch. 

She stepped back, pulling away from him, and he took a step forward to follow. 

Click.

Time stopped. Johnny’s skin flashed hot and then cold, all of the adrenaline he had left flooding his system. 

“Tsk, tsk, tsk…” She chided him, backing away while he remained frozen in place, “Sit… stay…” Then, that same sad smile, “Good boy.” 

She climbed up on the crate and escaped through the hole in the roof before any of them could react to what had just happened. 

Captain Price gave an order to Gaz,

“Go after her!”

“No!” Johnny protested, “All of you, get the fuck out of this room. I stepped on a wee mine, and if I know her, this whole dock will be at the bottom of the bloody ocean the moment I lift my boot.”

Ghost came up behind him, shifting his feet carefully through the sand, searching for secondary devices. Then, he used his pneumatic tool to blow the snow away from Johnny’s left foot to reveal the device. 

“Well, she got you fair and square, didn’t she, Johnny? I’ll tell your mum you died a hero’s death,” there was a joking tone in Ghost’s voice that made Soap peer down at the toe of his boot. 

He had stepped on an empty soda can. 

“Fuckin’ hell,” Johnny sighed, feeling the tingle of relief skitter through his limbs. 

Then, panic again as Price’s voice growled darkly behind him,

“I should send you on the first flight back to Glasgow with your papers in your fuckin’ hand, boy. What the hell are you doin’, MacTavish? You’ve got one fuckin’ chance to explain yourself before I replace you with a damn bomb robot. At least then I won’t have to write a letter home when he gets blown to bits.”

“I put a tag in her pocket, Cap’n. Should be able to watch her on the SAT-NAV now. She already mapped where Makarov’ll be next. I think we should help her.”

“What’s your deal with her? Are you…” Gaz asked, bewildered by his friend’s unusually careless behavior.

“I dinnae ken how to explain it, but I need to see this through.”

Price’s exhausted sigh was the only response he received, but Johnny knew that the silence was a form of assent. They would help him, and he would help her, if only he could get to her before she did anything too permanent.

Chapter 2

AO3 Link

[bhaalsbabe]

This bed has seen everything

Pairing: afab!Durge Reader x Enver Gortash

Label: nsfw

Word count: ~2k

Summary/warnings: MDNI, afab!durge, durge is a magic user, unprotected sex, piv, creampie, some biting on both sides (and both sides like it), choking (receiving), the glove stays on, Gortash is a simp for durge but what's new, Gorty is more dominant here

Author's note: long expected part two of This desk has seen everything. Please enjoy and let me know your thoughts <3

You need to focus or you'll get yourself killed. The Emperor's stern voice rumbled inside your head, the force of his mind pushing your urge back, enough for you to see clearer again. You were standing next to an open manhole. Looking around to figure out where you were, you noticed an undead beggar you ran into after entering the Lower City a day before. You sighed, rubbing your temples as you made your way back to the room you had acquired in Elfsong Tavern. As soon as you entered the main square, however, you were stopped by one of the steel watchers.

"Citizen, lord Gortash is looking for you. Please return to Wyrm's Rock Fortress immediately," its robotic voice said.

"And what if I don't return?" You asked, not in the mood to deal with both Gortash and this annoying piece of metal.

"Then you'll be escorted there against your will."

You frowned, thinking about your options quickly. You hated having to follow anyone's orders. At the same time, you weren't in a position where you could take out the entire city's guards, and while you could turn invisible to slip out of this steel watcher's grasp, you would have to show yourself eventually and be captured then.

"Fine, I'm going there right now. Happy?" Your voice was dripping with malice that totally went over the steel watcher's head. It continued standing there menacingly, watching you as you made your way out of the city again. You walked as slow as possible, wondering what awaited you.

Gortash wanted you. That much was evident. The surprising part was that you wanted him too. This man, who was ready to doom so many people for his god and hunger for power, who hurt Karlach so much and sold her to Zariel... You should hate him and be planning his assassination, putting a stop to all of this. Yet instead, you were thinking of how familiar his touch felt on your body, how it made your heart sing in a similar way as killing did. Even without the memories that would explain the reasons for it, you craved him, his brilliant mind and his reverent touch.

As you entered the fortress, you were greeted by the mechanical voice of the steel watcher, telling you that "lord Gortash is awaiting you in his chambers". Two guards, these made of actual flesh, then lead you to what you assumed were the doors to his chambers. You waited until they left before entering, your heart speeding up in anticipation.

The room was big and expensive looking. It screamed 'important person resides here'. Currently dimly lit through various hanging lanterns, you could still make out the prevalent colours, red and black, with occasional sprinkle of green. All the way back was a king sized bed with canopy, with its owner sitting on its edge.

"You gave me quite a scare back there. I thought you'd start a bloody rampage in the open." He chuckled but you noticed he sounded almost relieved as his eyes set on you. You felt a pull towards him, your feet leading you to the bed on their own.

"I warned you I'm not as in-control as you might think." You replied, stopping in front of him. The dark lighting of the room made him look more imposing and you had to admit, it suited him. Black was his colour. His smile widened as he caught you staring at him.

"Can't help yourself? I don't blame you~" You resisted the urge to roll your eyes, instead choosing to ask the question that's been burning in you.

"What exactly were we?" You winced at how unsure and vulnerable you sounded. Gone was your usual confidence. When it came to your past, you were lost and helpless and it scared you. Part of you berated yourself for showing a weakness to an enemy of such status as Gortash.

But he didn't take advantage of it. His eyes softened and his flirtatious smile changed into a melancholic one. You had a strong feeling not many people had seen this particular expression on him. He stood up, taking both of your hands into his while gazing into your eyes.

"Allies," one of his hands left yours to wrap around your waist and pull you against his lean body. You let him do it, intuitively putting your free hand around him too.

"Friends," he leaned close to you, his next word whispered to your ear as if it were the most precious secret.

"Lovers." You heard him take a deep breath, almost like he was taking in your scent, his hold on you tightening for a brief second before he pulled away, reluctantly letting you go and stepping back.

Hearing him actually say it made a bit of your doubt and guilt go away. Of course your body recognised your lover, even if your mind struggled. You weren't betraying your friends by wanting to be close to Gortash. How could they possibly blame you for wanting someone you used to love?... You could easily do more mental gymnastics to defend your following actions if necessary.

Your breathing quickened as you pushed him back, making him fall into the bed, before climbing over him. "Good. Now I don't feel so bad for wanting to fuck you."

His eyes widened as he took you in, looking up at you as if you were a god, a self-satisfied smile stretching over his face.

"Old habits die hard~" He said before using his strength to flip you over. "You should know your place, however," his voice was deeper, his clawed hand wrapping around your neck, making it harder to breathe. You glared at him in defiance, displeased that he'd dare to do this.

"Oh, are you imagining slicing me open now? Frying me with you spells?" His eyes and voice were laced with amusement. He put more pressure on your neck, the sharp claws digging into the soft skin of your neck. He leaned close to your face. "Good."

The moment your lips connected, he released his hold on your neck enough for you to be able to breathe better again. His other hand made it's way under your shirt, mapping your body to his memory again. He sighed contentedly, almost getting lost in the simple kiss-

And then you bit his lower lip, hard enough to draw blood and to make him recoil in shock. He pulled away, touching his bleeding lip gingerly before looking back at you. His eyes seemed to get impossibly dark as he watched you lick your lips, stained by his blood. His pants got more tight as you gave him a mad grin, one that used to be on your face so often before your disappearance.

"I didn't think you still had it in you," he chuckled, looking way too happy for someone who could've lost his lip.

"You seem to be enjoying the pain. Aren't you supposed to be a tyrannical sadist?" You teased him, dropping your gaze at his quite visible bulge before looking back at him.

"Oh I can be, trust me, dear. You're just too special." He got near your face again, scanning over your features with his eyes. You could see the imperfections on his skin in return - the soft wrinkles around his eyes, the laugh lines, the scar on his chin - and as you shared this moment, you truly felt special.

You started kissing each other once again, more passionately and ferociously, both of you needing to feel, touch, taste each other. Gortash pressed his clothed erection against your core and you moaned into the kiss, your legs wrapping around his body to pull him closer, to stimulate the spot that was crying for attention. All of a sudden, none of you had the power to continue your playful banter. You needed him, and he needed you.

He started undressing you, his nimble fingers making quick work of your clothes and he didn't even have to stop kissing you for a moment. His hands kept exploring your body, squeezing in all the right places. He knew your body well.

His mouth left yours to kiss your jawline and continue lower, to your neck, your clavicle, and even lower, to give some welcome attention to your nipple. As he sucked on that piece of flesh, one of his hands started its journey over your inner thigh all the way to your cunt. He only dragged his finger through your folds, spreading your slick, and your hips buckled.

"Fuck... Enver, just fuck me already," you panted, your chest heaving heavily, your nails digging into his shoulders. He left your nipple with a 'pop', his dark eyes drinking in the sight of you before him, all desperate and needy, although he wasn't doing much better and you uttering his name didn't help.

"As you wish, my dear," he mumbled, removing his pants and underwear hastily. He didn't bother with prepping you, knowing you enjoyed the sting of his cock splitting you open and so he inserted his dick in you in one fell swoop. You tensed up, unused to this kind of pain, trying to hold back any sounds of discomfort. Gortash noticed it, kissing you softly on the lips, before whispering into your ear:

"You're doing great, my love, just relax." His fingers started playing with your clit, mixing the pain with pleasure and soon you were urging him to move again. He didn't need to be told twice, his hips pistoning into yours immediately after getting your permission.

He was thick, making the muscles in your vagina strain as they tried to accommodate his girth. It helped that you were embarrassingly wet, the squelch audible every time his dick moved in and out of you. Gortash buried his head in your neck, letting out whimpers that made you feel less humiliated about the noises you made.

"Ah, I've missed this. I've missed you. Thought I'd never see you again..." he mumbled into your neck, his breath hot against it. He cradled you close, as if you could slip between his fingers at any moment, his hips picking up speed. He wanted to enjoy this more, he truly did, but he was desperate to state his claim on you again, make you his once more. He made sure to rub circles into your clit in an effort to bring you to climax along with him. You were so responsive to his touch, like the first time you gave yourself to him, and he wanted to make sure you'll come back for more.

His clawed hand that held you close kept leaving bleeding scratches behind that you didn't mind at all, not when everything in this moment made you feel so alive. You thought killing felt great but this was actually better than that. He then bit your neck, groaning at the same time, his hips stilling, and you felt a warm sensation in you as he filled you with cum. With the continuous stimulation in and around your cunt, along with the small bits of pain he brought you, you followed him over the edge soon after, a silent prayer of his name on your lips.

You were both breathing heavily, still wrapped in each other as you tried to recover a bit of lucidity. Gortash finally pulled out, making his sperm spill out of you onto the expensive bedsheets but he couldn't care less. He laid next to you, pulling you against his chest, and he kissed your head sweetly. It felt unreal, that a supposed tyrant like him had the capacity to be so gentle, to an enemy no less, and yet here you were.

Well, let's just say you're heavily considering your alliance now.

[777heavengirl]

the one with the post mortem

sirius black x reader ! - 1,244 words masterlist bags masterlist A/N: i cant tell if i like this or not but its the only thing I've been able to put out in days and its... yea no comment. also pls refer to this post about my update schedule and what I'm dealing w rn!

“You’re a bloody idiot Padfoot” James paced back and forth, hands on his hips as he scolded Sirius. “I just don't understand what you were thinking- they could’ve killed you”

“It's just a bruise Prongs can we relax here?” Sirius sighed as he held the frozen pea package to his face, he could already feel the tender skin around his eye bruising. The splitting headache he was now suffering from made him cringe as James's voice boomed around the living room.

“I think what James means to say is that-” You said as you walked back from their kitchen with tea in your hands, seamlessly passing the hot mug from your hands into his as you sat next to him on the Potter’s couch. “We are thankful it didn’t go past some shouting and a punch- Right James”

“Fuck no-”

“Come on-”

“No! It’s just-” James rubbed his temple, a frown etched deep within his features “Don’t put yourself back on their radar Sirius, I don't understand why you would want to go in the first place! You hated the woman!”

“We just don’t think it was the smartest idea to waltz into the funeral honey-” Lily said while rubbing circles mindlessly over her pregnant belly, her baby blue peplum top barely hiding the bottom slivers of her belly as she leaned back in her plush chair.

You stared at her round belly, a fleeting giddiness passing through you at the thought of the baby arriving soon. You had been scared you'd send her into labor when you knocked, dragging a bruised Sirius in, but she remained the calmest you had ever seen her, merely sighing as the two of you tumbled inside. Like it was just any other day. You guessed having James Potter as her husband meant he often brought home some excitement, to say the least.

“And then you also had the bloody brilliant idea of bringing y/n with you-”

“James-”

“No,” He shook his head, brown eyes staring straight into yours. “He shouldn’t have brought you! For Godric’s sake, they know you’re a muggle-born y/n! Merlin knows what they could’ve done-” 

“I convinced him to let me go with him, James! I wasn’t going to let him go alone-” James continued to lecture you, you did your best to concentrate on his words. But all you could focus on was Sirius's blank stare towards the floor.

You knew James's lecture came from a place of love and care. James was so much like his mother, you could almost see her. The way he argued with his hands on his hips, a kitchen towel thrown over his shoulder. Nothing but care and love, and worry seeped into his words. You knew he meant well, you knew he just did not understand why Sirius couldn’t just leave it alone. It frustrated James, it always had. They were brothers, no one could deny that. But a piece of Sirius, small and deep within him, hidden from the world, would always belong to the most honorable House of Black.

And it not only tore Sirius apart but James too. 

As much as Sirius was a part of his family, as much as he called Euphemia mum and Fleamont dad, as much as they were brothers in every way but blood. As much as they had built many memories together, happy Christmases, and bountiful birthdays, with many more to come. Endless days together, growing old together, like brothers, like family. Hell, Sirius was in the Potter’s family portrait. But even through all of this, they could never erase Sirius’s past. It would always be there, like an ugly inky stain on an otherwise pristine white shirt.

But you understood. Somehow. You knew what it felt like, the need to go crawling back to the parent that makes you feel worthless, hoping and praying it'll be different each time. 

Sirius craved to be seen by his mother just as much as you did your father.

You guessed that was why you didn’t fight him on going, why you decided to go with him. 

“He’s right,” the room went quiet as you all turned to look at Sirius, his eyes were now closed, one covered by the frozen bag. He felt exhausted, like his arms and legs were made of lead, his heart felt heavy with guilt and grief. “I shouldn’t have agreed to let you come, hell- I shouldn’t have gone in the first place but that’s my bullshit to deal with, not yours, love” 

You scoffed, “Since when do we deal with bullshit alone-”

“Since you decided that we needed to lead separate lives y/n” He snapped now, dropping the bag on his lap as he turned to look at you. 

“Oh grow up Sirius” You turned away now, away from how his features twisted in frustration and regret. You did your best to keep your face flat and monotone, afraid to let even a single sliver of emotion slip through. You hadn’t talked about it, yet. Avoiding the theme altogether for the last couple of days since he came home. But the tension was there, palpable and thick. It permeated every conversation and every interaction. It made everything feel heavy, the way that rain would drench and turn your clothes heavy. 

You couldn’t take the silence anymore, with a sigh you got up, pulling down the edge of your black dress. Lily and James merely stared, wide-eyed and shocked at the outburst from the both of you. 

“I’ll see you two later-” Your words had barely rang out as you apparated away, the faintest crack of the air following you. 

Sirius groaned, dropping his face into his hands. 

“So no, you haven’t fixed it yet-”

“It’s not that easy Prongs,” Sirius melted into the couch, fingers tracing patterns into the corduroy. 

“Why?” Lily stared at Sirius, a glint in her eye that was no stranger to Sirius. He narrowed his eyes at the red-head. “Why isn’t it easy Sirius? She loves you an obscene amount- watching the two of you is gross”

“What are you talking about Lilykins?” Sirius played with the edges of the soggy bag of peas, a childish pout on his lips.

“Lils is right, the two of you are worse than we are and we are married pads,” James sat on the arm of Lily’s armchair. Sirius scoffed-

“Come off it- no one’s worse than you two” They both rolled their eyes, a small smile on their lips they tried to repress. 

“I’m not wrong though- the two of you are disgustingly cute- always fawning over each other, whispering things to the other- you know you should really confess Sirius, tell her how you feel-” Sirius sat up, eyes wide,

“Tell her how I feel? Is pregnancy melting your brain Evans?”

“Oi! It’s Potter now, thank you very much-” James feigned hurt but Lily burst into laughter,

“God- the two of you are meant for each other,” James and Sirius stared dumbly at Lily, uncontrollable laughter shaking her body, she slapped James’s thigh excitedly “You really do- I can’t believe, Merlin-” She continued to laugh, starting to wipe tears from the corner of her eyes as she let out full spurts of laughter. “I can’t believe the two of you said the same thing-”

But as fast as she started she suddenly stopped with a small, oh, green eyes wide-

“W-what is it-” James stood, staring at his wife “Is everything okay?”

“I either just peed myself" Lily grabbed onto James's forearm to attempt to stand up from her recliner chair "or my water broke— currently leaning towards the latter” 

“Oh fuck-”

taglist ; @thatlittlered @giuli-in-earth @notsolong-pause @niceonejames7 @caspiankingofnarnia @ilovejamespottersomuch @bmyva1entine

let me know if you wanna be added ! or if i missed you

[anantaru]

who do you think would be most likely to end up in a fwb arrangement (and catch feelings 🤭)?

including. kaveh & scaramouche

cw. [ex]plicit, friends with benefits, they’re idiots istg, fem! reader

— kaveh + will tell you he loves you during sex

kaveh's body was aflame and his frazzled chest heaves as he watches you go down on him, slowed movements and your touch bringing him afloat, as if underwater, and his eyes, they're aglow— purled with a dwelling pleasure when you squeeze him gently around his tip, your thumb patting over a thudding vein which was on the underside of his girth, embellishing his pretty, thick cock when your lips slant down at last, parting to wrap around his sizable dick.

"archons.." kaveh moans out the pleasure you set free in his frame, and he's licking his lips at the sheer sight of you, mouth watering as a heavy hand drops against the back of your head to move you up and down his bulging cock himself as you're eagerly running your tongue back and forth the sensitive skin to please him, make him cum inside your warmth, whilst the man was growing certainly impatient when you taste a couple droplets of his pre greatly overwhelming your taste buds;

yet then, it's when your entire ordeal of having this, so called, special relationship, which— let's be honest now, was fairly confusing in its own parts, came entirely crumbling down on you.

well, you occasionally fucked, yes, but that's about it, so when you suddenly hear it, the:

"fuck— i love you so much."

you instantly still your lips around his cock because wait. what.

your eyes shoot open at the words and you look up at kaveh as his own worried gaze meets yours immediately, in horror, both parties awkwardly staring at each other for what felt like hours as he was reminding himself about what he just said, and what he just ruined for himself.

you pull him out of your mouth, and kaveh hisses at the lost contact of your warmth sadly leaving his cock when he attempts to speak again and fix this bloody mess somehow.

"i mean this!" he panics, pointing at his still, very much, erected cock resting on his lower stomach, "i don't love you, i love this!"

you look at him in overwhelmed disbelief, because what the actual fuck, honestly defeated with this entire, confusing situation as you quickly grab your shirt off the ground, swiftly pulling it above your head and dragging it down to conceal your upper body because being fully naked right now, didn't seem like the best decision.

yet funnily enough the second kaveh contradicted himself, particularly when he stated the "i do not love you" part, something deep inside his stomach scrunches up viciously, so much it began to ache, as if his own body has caught him in a blatant lie, a big one at that, one he had ultimately hidden from even himself and he didn't realize until now.

yet, you rub your forehead, wishing you would've just ignored it and kept sucking the life out of his cock. although, you speak at last, a little overpowered, despite that keeping your cool.

"who says 'i love you' during a blowjob?"

you question but he didn't hear you, instead he did the unimaginable and made it worse, muttering the following to himself but loud enough so you could hear it, "or maybe i do love you."

"WHAT!"

— scaramouche + will stay in denial

"how's that?" scaramouche flaunts the brilliant smirk on his face as he taunts you, smacking his working hips against your cunt so fucking fast and strongly that the sound alone of your skin touching the other almost suffocates out your own moans and whines.

"—so good." you hiccup, the noises parting from your lips falling lower and lower, dripping with a high amount of lust and longing. and scaramouche certainly knew you were close, he can tell, immediately— after all, he's seen it plenty of times before, well, who knew having a fuck buddy could be so beneficial to him, he honestly didn't seem quite convinced in the beginning but grew into it relatively fast.

up till now at least, because for some reason, he cannot understand why he suddenly cares about how good he was fucking you, or if you're enjoying yourself wholly— if his hips were lurching forward correctly, if his thrusts were strong enough for you to desperately cry out his name or when the muscles in your core clench down for him to see literal, big, bright stars as you milk him dry with your pussy, taking him perfectly into your warm walls.

when did he start giving a single damn about you? obviously, not to be a completely malicious dick and an asshole— but it was fairly difficult for scaramouche to find meaningful, real relationships with another individual, and when you first hooked up with each other, it then repeating day by day as you ultimately decided to walk into this kind of relationship, hand in hand, he never once thought about catching any feelings for you, because quite frankly, he did not believe he was capable to produce such insolent emotions in the first place.

yet, there he was now, being happy and smiling from head to toe when you're affirming him, when he can make you cum on his cock before he was even allowed to cum himself.

because, here's the deal, he won't stop denying himself, not before you're climaxing all over his girth and soiling his skin with your liquids, until he can ease himself forward again and notices your tasty slick all over him as he's automatically wetting his lips at the sinful sight of your pussy clenching around, fucking himself into your cute, small entrance again that gnaws down onto every bump and ridge coating his entire shaft.

but no, again, he cannot possibly be in love with you, hah! those feelings, someone must be playing tricks on him, right?

©2023 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[shugarbunni]

pt.1 of kitty!reader x professor!james... enjoy!

"professor?" your voice breaks through the chatter of the group of professors (Mr Potter, Mr Lupin, Mr Black, Mr Pettigrew and, every students favourite, Mrs Evans.) as you crack the classroom door open. its lunch break, really you should be out in the campus cafeteria with your friends, but you just had to ask him (him being your secret sex god boyfriend, professor potter) about the test results, right?

their heads snap up, James huffing softly in exasperation when he sees you. none of the other professors know, to your knowledge. James said they'd have his bloody head if they knew he'd started sleeping with a student.

"uhm, sorry for intruding" you say in that faux sickly sweet voice of yours "i just had a few questions about my grade?"

Sirius gives James a smirk, only to be kicked under the table by James. James swivels his chair to fully face you, giving you a soft yet stern look.

"we can discuss at the end of the day, kit." he says, the other professors awkwardly looking away.

"i'm not gunna be on campus, I'm going out." you frown, brows furrowing in confusion. he never turns you down. like, ever.

"right." he huffs, scratching the back of his neck, his bicep pushing against the fabric of his shirt. jesus fuck, he's hot. "then we can go over them tomorrow, kit. alright?" he says, and its obvious he's trying to be strict. why the hell is he being strict?

"oh." you almost pout, shoulders slumping in disappointment "right, okay. yeah, tomorrow." you fluster, scurrying out of the classroom before anything else can be said.

well, great. you'd went in expecting a fuck and a five minute nap on his lap, only to be, what? turned down? asshole. he's a total asshole!

"you're doing the right thing, mate." Remus huffs as you leave the classroom, the energy tense "she's barely 20, James. trust me, you're saving the both of you a lot of trouble."

"i know." he mumbles, gazing off into the distance with a crease between his brows. lily shoves him, a stern look on her face "i know, okay?" he reiterates, trying to be more convincing "i know its better if i cut it off i just... nevermind." he says as he slumps in his chair, pushing his lunch away.

"its your fault for telling us." lily says, shrugging as she swallows her food "you must've known wed make you shut it down, James."

"i did- alright, i did know. i just didn't think id be this fucking bothered." he grumbles, rolling his eyes.

"yeah, well" Sirius grins, nudging him "were gunna go out tonight. like old times, hm? get y'mind off it?"

"..fine. but only us 5. I'm not going if you two bring your happy relationships to shove in my face. already have to deal with moony n pads." he complains, pointing at lily and peter.

"Emma hates going out, you know that" peter says through a mouthful of pasta. Emma, his girlfriend (who he's been with for four years, mind you. he's got to pop the question sometime, surely). she's a sweet girl - one of those vegan, farmers market, crochet all your blankets and tea pot covers type of people. her and Pete really suit, honestly.

"and Mary's working tonight." lily says with a proud smile. Mary, lily's girlfriend since they were all at high school. again, very sweet person. shes a nurse now, which is very on brand for her. always did love helping people.

"brilliant!" Sirius beams, toying with remus' hand, who gives him a soft smile and a nod.

well, tonight could either go wonderfully or horribly. James could definitely wait to find out which it's gunna be.

okay i don't know how to feel about this!! ill do an intro to my kitty!reader soon, let me know if you guys r into this or not<3

[iniquitousyearning]

MATTHEO RIDDLE- Beg For Me

Chapter Twenty Seven-Info: You and Mattheo have been butting heads for months, since you were assigned as his tutor, and one day during a session full of tense bickering, he has enough.

Tags: EEEEEEE ANGST!!!!! LOVE!!!! CONFESSIONS!!!! PROGRESS!!!!! Also, mentions of childhood trauma, childhood emotional abuse, parental abuse, mentions of death, extremely deep and emotional. Very painful. Also, some adorable Theo in the beginning.

FIND THE REST OF THE CHAPTERS HERE.

Just as Mattheo was on the verge of popping open the door to the washroom, he halted, pivoting back to face you, locking eyes in an intense moment.

"I'll go out first," he declared, his gaze dancing from your eyes to your lips and back, a fleeting yet charged exchange. "If Nott is still there, I'll distract him. Meet me in the courtyard."

Before you could formulate a response, he swiftly flicked the lock open and swung the door wide, leaving the room with purpose. Internally cursing him in a cascade of languages, you realized the gaping flaw in his plan--it was you who had called out to Theo from inside the washroom, not him...so surely, Mattheo's departure from the bathroom before you would hardly appear inconspicuous to Theo, should he still be lingering outside the fucking door.

Brilliant. Bloody brilliant.

Releasing a prolonged breath laden with anxiety, you pivoted back toward the mirror, meticulously assessing your appearance. Adjusting your mask, you coaxed your hair into place, smoothing down any unruly strands. Just as you were finally beginning to feel the tension ease off of your shoulders, the bathroom door groaned open once more--revealing a tall, brown-haired figure, elegantly clad in a sharp blue suit.

Your heart stuttered, and you spun around, breath catching in your throat. "Theo..."

Theo entered the bathroom, a cheeky smirk adorning his lips as he leisurely assessed you from head to toe, allowing the door to click shut behind him.

"Looks like I've finally figured you out," he declared, his voice a low, honeyed drawl. "Although it seems I'm a tad too late."

Closing the distance, you anxiously tried to apologize. "Theo, I'm so sorry-"

"Don't be, Bella," he interrupted, wetting his lips, softly raising a hand to his heart. "Your secret is safe with me."

"My...why? In exchange for what?" Your words hung in the air, lost as you struggled to make sense of the situation.

A low chuckle escaped him, his gaze lingering on your lips. "Why would you think I want something?"

Tension gripped you. "I just-"

"I already told you," he interrupted, his hand ascending toward your face, delicately brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. "I'm a gentleman, little bird...you owe me nothing...all I ever wanted was confirmation."

Your brows furrowed, his touch sending subtle tingles over your cheek as his thumb grazed against it. A delicate shiver traced its way down your spine, and the room seemed to close in as his gaze locked onto yours with an intensity that held the weight of unspoken revelations.

"Confirmation?" you questioned.

"Mm," he murmured, his eyes briefly scanning your features, and then he slowly withdrew his hand, leaving an almost lingering warmth on your skin. "Confirmation that Riddle's got it bad for you...as bad as I've ever seen it."

Your heartbeat quickened, a mix of confusion and denial clouding your thoughts. "No-"

"Yes," he retorted, a hint of amusement in his eyes at your quick dismissal. "We all could tell there was something going on with you two, little bird...we could see it in his eyes, the way he looked at you...come se tu fossi il sole e lui fosse un bambino che lo vede per la prima volta..."

(As if you were the sun, and he was a child seeing it for the first time...)

"And you...you looked at him just the same..." he added, his voice a low, encapsulated murmur, "since you've come around, it's been obvious, even to us heartless jerks, that he's different...it's clear that whatever this is, whatever you two have been hiding...È il tipo di cosa per cui aspetti per tutta la tua dannata vita..."

(it's the type of thing you wait your whole damn life for.)

Your words caught in your throat, a mixture of shock and disbelief washing over you. Stammering, you struggled to find a coherent response as warmth and bliss swirled in your chest, something deeply suppressed coming to life inside you at his revelation.

You looked up into his deep blue eyes, speechless for a moment before managing to utter, "thank you, Theo...thank you so much..."

"Of course, amore..." he said, his hands casually finding refuge in his pockets. "I understand precisely what he sees in you...I can only envision the fiery clashes of tongues you two must have..."

Smirking, you remarked, "You have no idea."

Theo chuckled, the mischievous glint growing in his eyes. As you made your way to the door, an impulsive idea took hold. Without hesitation, you spun back around, meeting his eyes as you reached for his face, drawing it down towards you, and placed a soft, lingering kiss on his cheek. With a smirk, you pulled back, leaving him momentarily taken aback.

"Your secret is safe with me too, Theodore..." you murmured, a sly grin playing on your lips. "Wouldn't want anyone to know that the Italian playboy has a heart, now would we?"

"You're absolutely right, Piccolo diavolo..." he quipped with a smirk, his eyes glinting playfully. "Now get out of here before Riddle comes to claim my bloody head."

Suppressing a snorted giggle, you confidently swung the washroom door open and gracefully glided back into the dimly lit hall. Swiftly traversing the corridor, you aimed straight for the courtyard, a subtle cringe registering as the rhythmic patter of rain on cobblestones reached your ears. As you approached the courtyard's entrance, there stood Mattheo, casually leaning against the wall, patiently awaiting your arrival.

Or rather, impatiently. "What took you so long?"

"I, uh, got caught up..." you stammered, wincing inwardly as your throat tightened. It didn't seem like the right moment to mention Theo, who had obviously somehow snuck past him. "I'm sorry."

"What am I ever going to do with you," Mattheo sighed, hint of amusement his voice as he turned toward the forest. "Come on,"

Mattheo guided you through the courtyard, the rhythmic cadence of raindrops creating a melodic backdrop to the night. The atmosphere crackled with an unspoken tension, and the moon and stars, obscured by thick clouds, added an eerie allure to an already anxious situation. Your dress, now entirely drenched, clung to your form, and navigating the wet ground in heels became an adventurous feat on its bloody own.

Frustration mounted as you navigated the slippery pathway in your soaked dress and precarious heels. An unfortunate misstep led to a stumble, and you found yourself cursing both the uneven ground and your choice of footwear.

Mattheo's irritation mirrored your own, evident in the sharp tone of his voice. "Watch where you're going, Raven..." he said, barely sparing you a glance as he continued moving. "Do I need to bloody carry you?"

You rolled your eyes, mumbling a response under your breath as you struggled to keep up with him, aggravated further by the relentless rain and Mattheo's brisk pace. The forest swallowed you both as you entered into it, its dark shadows and dense foliage intensifying the unease in the air.

"Can you please slow down?" You hissed, your voice rising over the sound of the clashing raindrops, hastily stepping over splayed branches and sharp rocks. "Is this all really fucking necessary?"

Mattheo stalled, the black fabric of his suit clinging to his strong frame, outlining the tensed contours of his body. As he paused and turned to look at you, his eyes reflected the profound darkness of the forest, deep pools of intensity that seemed to absorb the ambient light. The raindrops glistened on his chiseled features, and his once meticulously styled curls now lay flattened against his forehead, drenched by the relentless rain.

His intense gaze pierced through the darkness, capturing your soul as you staggered closer to him. The thick canopy of the trees cast shadows, with only the moon's pale glow filtering through the dense forest greenery.

"I'm giving you what you wanted," he declared, the weight of his words echoing in the eerie stillness. The moonlight outlined the contours of his soaked, dark suit, emphasizing the true irrationality of the moment, and you snuffed a scoff. "We're almost there-"

"This isn't what I wanted, Mattheo...I just wanted you to talk to me!" you snapped, frustration boiling over and echoing in the quiet forest. Your words hung in the damp air, mingling with the sound of raindrops and the distant rustle of leaves. "I'm sick of all the fucking theatrics...Gods, I'm soaked, I'm freezing, my dress is ruined, and we could get attacked by an endless array of creatures at any bloody moment....yet, you don't fucking care...you won't even slow down for me..."

Mattheo blinked, his emotions entirely indecipherable, his stern expression momentarily softening as he studied your figure. Seemingly dismissing your words, his eyes then shifted to the darkness behind him.

"I have a time frame...we need to move," he urged, but a scowl marred your face.

"Mattheo..." you pleaded, desperation laced in your voice, grabbing his arm and making him spin back around to fave you. "For Godric's sake! Please!"

Mattheo's eyes bore into you, the irritation etched on his features creating a tension that echoed through the darkened forest.

"What, Raven? What the hell do you honestly want from me?" His voice was a hiss, teeth bared, face contorted in a snarl. "You want me to tell you all my dirty little secrets, is that it? You want to know the dark corners of my past? What if I lay it all bare, and you decide I'm not the man you thought I was, huh? What then?"

You swallowed, dispelling the lump of anxiety lodged in your throat. Glimpsing the hardened features of the man before you, you mustered the courage to reach up and pull his mask off, before doing the same to yours, tossing them onto the forest floor.

"You're worried I'm going to leave," your thumb grazed his cheek as you questioned, "...is that what you're worried about, Mattheo?"

His gaze underwent a subtle transformation, softening amid a tempest of conflicting emotions. An audible swallow punctuated the charged atmosphere, the rain forming a delicate veil between you, its mist blending with the subdued downpour beneath the thick canopy of trees. Without a word, he nodded, his silent admission making your blood buzz with electricity.

"I'm not going anywhere," your whisper hung in the damp air, the fragility of your voice carrying a delicate plea. "I prom-"

He scowled, stalling your words as he shoved your hand away and attempted to step back, but you were quicker, seizing his arm and halting his retreat.

"Listen to me, Riddle...Gods, I'm not going anywhere, okay? I couldn't, even if I wanted to..." the intensity of your gaze bore into him, the misty rain creating an ethereal backdrop to the raw exchange between you.

"Yes, you could," he muttered, his voice torn. "And you will want to."

"I know your heart is at war with your head, Mattheo...but I'm here...I'm right fucking here...there's no leaving, there's no forgetting you..." you released a shaky breath, observing the subtle shift in his gaze toward your lips, his breathing gradually slowing, and you pulled him closer. "It’d be easier if you asked me to tear my heart out of my chest with my own fucking hands, then it would be to even make an attempt at forgetting you…"

"You're insane," he muttered, smirk teasing the corners of his lips, a mixture of disbelief and vulnerability in his eyes. "No wonder I can't get enough of you..."

You huffed, involuntarily blushing in response. Theo's words echoed in your mind, a persistent refrain like a neon sign blinking in the darkness. Type of thing you wait your whole fucking life for, he'd said.

As his sentiment lingered, the words dancing around you like a ghost, you felt a warmth enveloping your body despite the shivers running down your spine. The chill in the air became irrelevant, overpowered by the undeniable heat radiating from within. Gazing into those enchanting brown eyes, the ones you've let yourself drown in over and over and over again for months now, you grappled with the realization that what you felt for this boy transcended the superficial.

You didn't want him, you needed him. You didn't like him, you fucking loved him. And that meant for better, or for worse.

And as you stood there, struggling to contain the overwhelming emotion, you could hardly resist the urge to confess. Until, he raised his hand, gently pulling you closer, holding you tight against his chest. It felt like a silent prayer, an unspoken gesture for which no words could suffice.

"My childhood was similar to yours, Raven," he admitted, his words laced with a mix of reluctance and vulnerability. "Rich asshole parents, never around...dad was too busy fucking his assistant, and mom was too preoccupied spending his money to care...they pawned me and my brother off to my grandparents for most of our childhood."

Mattheo's grip tightened around you, his embrace offering both solace and a sense of protection as he paused for a moment, letting his words linger in the night air. You tensed, mentally bracing yourself.

"Which would have been fine, but my grandparents had their own issues," he continued, his voice carrying the weight of years gone by. "They split up when we were five...my brother went with my grandma while I stayed with grandpa...everyone blamed him, everyone fucking hated him, cut him out. My dad treated him like a piece of filth, as though he'd singlehandedly murdered his best friend or some shit...I was the only one he had left..."

As his words unfolded, you could feel the resonance of his pain, the narrative of abandonment and familial strife painting a somber picture in the midst of the rain-soaked forest--and at that, you could relate.

"I was all he had, and I was a fucking asshole...I treated him like shit because I felt like shit," he almost growled, his voice carrying the burden of remorse, tone becoming more strained with each syllable. "My brother was given everything--adored, loved, and cherished while I wasn't even looked at, fucking thought about. Wasn't my grandpas fault, but I took it out on him...I told him I fucking hated him, that he ruined my life. I just did whatever I wanted and he let me, because what else was he going to do?...this went on for years, until we got into a huge fight one night, and he called my dad...I left the house before he got there...just stormed out without another word..."

Mattheo's grip tightened further, his chin digging into the top of your head as he continued, the pain in his voice echoing louder than ever. "The next call I got was from my dad...telling me grandpa's at the hospital," he admitted, a heavy weight in his words, your heart beating in your throat, his echoing in your ears. "He went to chase after me and some fucking goons jumped him, in the middle of the street, while I was too busy being a fucking selfish, pathetic little bitch..."

The rawness of his story unfolded in the damp air, adding layers of complexity to the connection between you, the rain serving as a silent witness to the cathartic release of his past. Your chest rung with pain, lids fluttering shut as your lungs reached for air, gripped by the depth of the agony in his tone. Mattheo's voice trembled as he continued, the raw pain seeping into the damp air.

"It was my fault...all of it, my fucking fault...and my dad made sure to hammer that into me...every single fucking day since," he spat the words through gritted teeth, hastily letting go of you, shifting his hands to your shoulders as he met your eyes. "I reached the hospital just before he took his last breath...and you know what he fucking said to me?"

You gasped, taken aback by the overwhelming surge of emotions within him. "N-no,"

"He told me to forgive him, " he seethed, his teeth barred, tears threatening to spill from his intense gaze. "He told me to fucking forgive my dad, that insufferable prick who never spared him a fucking minute, never spared me a minute...that heartless bastard...how the fuck could he tell me to forgive someone like that? How the fuck could those be his last fucking words?"

Your breath hitched, a sharp intake of air as his words etched themselves into the recesses of your mind. The pain and raw emotion swirled around you effortlessly, an inescapable tide. “Rebelling was my coping mechanism, yet it was fleeting. Nothing I did was enough, always slipping through my fingers like fucking sand…”

His grip on your arms tightened, fingers digging in with a brutal force that threatened to splinter bones, jolting you within the clutches of his anguish.

"…I just-fuck--tell me where to put the fucking anger," he growled, the desperation in his voice palpable, echoing the tumultuous storm within him. "Fucking tell me, Raven...fuck...where the fuck-"

"Hey--breathe, just breathe," you whispered, meeting his gaze with understanding, bringing your hands up to his face, pulling him close. "It wasn't your fault...you were just a boy...a boy who needed his family...needed someone to tell him he was loved...they turned you into a fucking weapon and then told you to find peace..."

"And you were right..." he sniffed, his hands shaking as he held you; his eyes actively searching yours as if seeking solace. "...I let it all consume me...possess me," he murmured, voice heavy with regret. "I became the weapon they wanted, the one they made me out to be, because anger was better than wallowing...better than grief...better than guilt..."

Your hands trembled against his damp skin, the collective heat from your bodies hot enough to ignite the whole forest into pure fucking flame. You glimpsed his lips, and he wet them, little rivers of rain running down his skin, your hearts pounding in rhythm.

"At least rage would lift me up...make me stand..." he whispered, blinking the liquid away from his eyes, and whether it was rain or tears, you weren’t entirely sure. "Make me walk..."

"I understand..." you chewed your cheek, breath shallow as you nodded. "I completely understand."

"I've done shitty things...more than I could even begin to tell you about...all because I couldn't deal with my own bullshit, but, now...it just feels different...I feel different..." he confessed in a hushed tone, the weight of his words palpable. "Where I once craved vengeance, I now crave rest."

"Yeah?" You blinked, searching his face, thumbs softly brushing over his cheeks. "Why is that?"

"Because of you," he said, glimpsing your lips, his eyes clouded with emotion. "You gave me peace in a lifetime of war."

Your breath froze, time suspended as if under a spell, the world around you caught in a momentary stillness. Your grip on his face tightened, as though afraid he might slip away, the rain dancing around both of you in a silent cascade. And as the two of you stood there, his face, held in your hands, revealed a complexity of emotion that entirely mirrored your own--a beautiful mess, a captivating ruin.

As raindrops continued to create a soft percussion around you, you found yourself lost in the depths of his brown eyes, unsure if you were even inhaling anymore. But one thing you did know, was that this was the boy you loved, an intricate blend of imperfections, a chaotic disaster just like yourself.

In this instance, he embodied everything you've ever yearned for without even realizing it--a mix of nobility and ruthlessness, courage entwined with vulnerability, a paradoxical blend of strength and weakness. He is the type of man that you'd choose to stand beside in a war, never wishing to stand against. He's been unapologetically badass, yet somehow still possesses a heart that resonated with honesty. He was the embodiment of your dreams, realized in the midst of pure, complete chaos, and you wouldn't want to change a goddamn thing.

And just as you were parting your lips, just as you wanted to let the sacred words fall from your tongue, Mattheo's head snapped up--and then you heard it too, the breaking of branches shattered the moment, an ominous sound of something moving in the distance.

Without hesitation, Mattheo seized your wrist, his grip firm yet gentle, pulling you into motion with an intense purpose. "Come on."

Deeper into the forest you followed, the urgency palpable in each step. After a brief but purposeful journey, he slowed, guiding you behind a tree with a subtle urgency, the surroundings now cloaked in a heightened sense of alertness. As you pressed against the rough bark, the sounds of animals moving reached your ears, an eerie symphony veering closer.

In the veiled darkness, Mattheo's firm grip on your wrist subsided as he released you, his movements fluid despite the rivers of rain streaming down his face and body. Unfazed, he reached for his gun with practiced ease, the metallic click of it being cocked and the safety being flicked off resonating in the air.

Brows furrowed in confusion, you met his eyes, searching for answers. Mattheo, seemingly calm amidst the night's intrigue, noted your perplexity.

With a steady gaze, he said, "This is a thestrals' nest."

Your features contorted even further, not understanding what was happening--caught between the concealment of the tree, the mysterious sounds of the night, and the sudden revelation. Raindrops trickled down your face, mirroring the cascade of questions flooding your mind.

As Mattheo peeked out from behind the tree, you stammered, "A thestrals' nest? But...wh-what do you need that for?" Your heart thundered, fear gripping you. "...you're not hurting them, are you?"

"No," Mattheo's head whipped back at you, raising a hand to his face and pushing his sopping hair off his forehead. "I'm protecting them."

You paused. "You're-"

"Merlin's sake you ask a lot of questions, don't you?" He teased, an amused glint in his eyes despite the undercurrent of annoyance in his tone. "It's a long story, but basically I've spent a lot of fucking time in this forest...pretty much every night since first year I'd come out here...and one night, I just started studying them, their sounds, behaviours...just watching what they do."

A pause lingered, pregnant with anticipation. Mattheo cast another furtive glance beyond the sheltering tree, his gaze slicing through the darkness like a laser. When he pivoted to meet your eyes, the intensity of his gaze held a silent invitation into his life.

"But then my fascination extended beyond just watching them. I took out some textbooks, literally the only books I've ever taken out of the library, other than that book on stars, were about them...I just wanted to know everything," he said, cautiously examining your stunned face. "And by doing that I found out that they're vulnerable to certain predators, but especially Acromantulas...so as the years went on, and I noticed their population dwindling, I knew exactly the reason why, and I knew I had to do something about it."

"I tried spells, natural deterrents, enchanting the trees...didn't work. I even planted a bunch of magical herbs and plants around their nest, ones that emit scents that are repulsive to Acromantulas, but they're not strong enough, I guess." Another brief pause, another glance out behind the tree. "I had to get creative...I went to Snape...told him about my idea, and he was on board. He gave me permission to enchant the gun, and actually helped me devise a spell called Stellaverti specifically for this purpose. It's not meant to harm the spiders; it's designed to deter them effectively without causing any lasting damage."

He took a deep breath, his voice steady. "When I cast the spell on the bullets, they transform into magical projectiles. Upon impact, they create a blinding light and emit a loud, echoing noise. It's disorienting and frightening, encouraging them to retreat. The effects are temporary, wearing off after a few minutes, but the spell allows me to safeguard them while still keeping them and others free from harm."

Your jaw hung agape, every fiber of your being seemingly pulled skyward. Speech escaped you, a silent symphony of astonishment conducted within. Vibrations of disbelief and internal tremors accompanied each uttered revelation, leaving you in a state of wordless chaos. When words finally left your lips, you didn't even know what the hell you were saying.

"You created a fucking spell?"  Your voice, louder than intended, verged on a near scream. The question, a burst of astonishment, reverberated through the forest. "Why not wield your wand directly?"

"Using my wand directly poses a risk, Raven. If I were to miss, the spell might deflect, hit something else, causing unintended consequences..." he said, his expressions completely serious. "With the modified handgun, I can maintain a safer distance while ensuring precision and accuracy. It's about minimizing risks and maximizing the effectiveness of the deterrent."

He paused for a moment before adding, "Plus, having a dedicated tool specifically enchanted for this purpose allows me to act fast...I only do this for a couple weeks during the Acromantula breeding cycle, when they're more aggressive...they usually stay fucked off for the rest of the year."

As Mattheo's explanation hung in the air, you stood there, utterly speechless, your mind trying to grasp the depth of what he just revealed. The man who others perceived as indifferent to everything had been quietly dedicating himself to safeguarding these enchanting, misunderstood creatures all this fucking time. A profound sense of beauty unfolded in the revelation, leaving you stunned by the contrast between perception and reality.

Despite the rain seeping into every crevice, a newfound warmth enveloped you. In this mystical realm, your shock transformed into a profound appreciation for Mattheo's silent commitment to protect the fragile balance of the forest. It was a revelation that transcended the weather, the night, and everything else, leaving you with an indescribable certainty that you always fucking knew--beneath the surface, there was more to this man than met the eye. Despite all he's been through, there was still good in him.

"Stay put, and be quiet…” Mattheo instructed in a hushed tone, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that demanded obedience. “Please.”

When you nodded, he moved, darting out from behind the tree, shifting toward a closer one with swift purpose. Peering out from your hidden vantage point, the thestrals' nest unveiled itself--a spectral scene of maternal serenity juxtaposed against the dark mystery of the forest. Yet, the tranquility was shattered by the impending arrival of Acromantulas, their looming forms casting a foreboding shadow over the ethereal tableau.

Your focus shifted to Mattheo, becoming a silent witness to a ballet of controlled power and graceful precision. Like a predator in fluid motion, he maneuvered through the trees, a master of stealth. His every step seemed to echo with purpose, aligning effortlessly with the approaching threat while remaining veiled behind the foliage.

In the orchestrated dance between protector and adversary, Mattheo's movements radiated a controlled power, a testament to years of dedication. As he raised the enchanted gun, a cascade of spells erupted with an otherworldly grace, each shot hitting its mark with eerie precision. With each resounding pop from Mattheo's weapon, the Acromantulas recoiled, swiftly retreating into the rainy silence. The echoes of their hurried departure lingered in the air, blending with the sound of branches snapping in the distance as the forest reclaimed its calm.

Mattheo, having deftly wielded the weapon, then lowered it with deliberate ease once he had scared the last of them off. He tucked it back into his pants before moving toward the thestrals, his movements now mirroring a far more soothing rhythm. Gently petting them, he reassured the creatures that the threat had passed, murmuring words of safety and comfort amidst the delicate patter of raindrops.

Stammering through the aftermath, you approached him, your mind in complete disarray, grappling with the revelation that shattered all of your preconceived notions. Everything you thought you knew about this man had been upended, leaving you standing on the precipice of understanding, yet feeling like you were teetering on the edge of an unknown abyss.

Words eluded you, lost in the echoes of enchanted gunfire and the fading retreat of Acromantulas. Your gaze lingered on Mattheo, who now stood amidst the thestrals, his demeanor shifting from vigilant protector to a gentle guardian, and it was in this moment of perplexity, a newfound attraction stirred within you, a magnetic pull fueled by the complexity that unveiled itself beneath Mattheo's exterior. The dichotomy of strength and tenderness, protector and nurturer, had never been more alluring, and you'd never been more fucking attracted to him in your life.

As you closed the distance, his gaze met yours, the intensity in his irises now softened to a warmth akin to melted chocolate. Rivulets of rain cascaded down his face, weaving through the contours of features that seemed to shed the need for concealment. It was as though, in this rain-soaked sanctuary, he’d finally found the freedom to reveal his true self.

In the weighty silence, he blinked, a subtle tension clinging to him. "I've said a lot tonight, and I understand if it's too much for you-"

But you cut through the air, your words breaking free in an unguarded moment, shaking your head as you stepped closer, kinking your neck back to fully catch his eyes.

"I am so fucking in love with you."

——————————-

Find chapter 28->

[bradleysass]

hair - @into-the-jeggyverse - wc: 689

James Potter had always been a bit reckless. His wild hair was a reflection of his untamed personality—chaotic, energetic, and charming in a disheveled sort of way. But lately, he’d grown tired of battling his mane every morning. It was untamable, sticking up in every direction no matter how much he tried to smooth it down.

This morning, James decided he’d take matters into his own hands—or rather, his wand. He vaguely remembered a spell he’d read in a book about hair styling, something about taming unruly locks. So, he woke up extra early, careful not to disturb the peaceful slumber of his boyfriend, Regulus Black, who was nestled under the covers beside him.

James padded over to the bathroom, wand in hand, muttering the incantation under his breath. “Capillus Mutatio!” A soft glow emanated from his wand, and he felt a strange tingling sensation on his scalp. For a brief, blissful moment, he thought it had worked.

But when he glanced in the mirror, his heart sank. His hair was no longer wild and messy, but it was also no longer brown. Instead, it was an obnoxiously bright, golden blonde.

“Oh no,” James groaned, running his fingers through his now flaxen locks. “Oh, no, no, no.” He scrambled to recall the counter-spell, but the words slipped from his memory like water through a sieve. Frantically, he tried a few guesses, but none of them worked. The blonde hair remained, mocking him with its dazzling brightness.

A groggy voice from the bedroom made his stomach drop. “James? What’s going on?”

Regulus’s voice was soft and sleep-laden, but James could tell he was waking up. He’d been hoping to fix this disaster before Regulus noticed, but there was no time now. Bracing himself, James stepped back into the bedroom.

Regulus was sitting up, rubbing his eyes. His dark curls were mussed from sleep, and the blanket was draped lazily over his lap. He blinked up at James, his gray eyes narrowing in confusion.

“What the bloody hell happened to your hair?” he asked, his voice sharp with disbelief.

James offered a sheepish smile. “Good morning to you too, love.”

Regulus’s eyes widened as he fully took in the sight before him. “It’s… blonde.”

“Yeah,” James said, scratching the back of his neck. “I tried to do a spell to tame it, and, uh, it backfired.”

Regulus stared at him for a long moment before sighing deeply. “Of course, it did. Why didn’t you just ask me to help?”

“I didn’t want to bother you,” James mumbled, shifting his weight awkwardly. “I thought I could handle it.”

Before Regulus could respond, the door to their flat’s living room opened, and Sirius’s voice rang out. “Oi! Is anyone else awake?”

James’s face paled. “Oh no. Sirius is going to have a field day with this.”

Regulus smirked, his initial irritation giving way to amusement. “You’re right. He absolutely is.”

Moments later, Sirius appeared in the doorway, his eyes instantly zeroing in on James. His expression morphed from confusion to delight. “Merlin’s beard! What happened to you, Prongs?”

“Nothing,” James said quickly, trying to sidestep Sirius’s scrutiny.

“Nothing?” Sirius repeated, laughing. “Your hair’s bloody blonde! Did you finally decide to embrace your inner diva?”

James groaned, running a hand through his hair again. “It was a mistake, alright? The spell backfired.”

Sirius doubled over with laughter, clutching his stomach. “This is brilliant. I’m never letting you live this down.”

“You’re not helping,” James muttered, his ears turning red.

Regulus, to James’s surprise, let out a soft chuckle. “You do look ridiculous,” he admitted, though his tone was fond.

James sighed, throwing his hands up in defeat. “Fine. Mock away. Just… can someone help me fix it?”

Regulus slid out of bed, crossing the room to stand in front of James. He reached up, threading his fingers through James’s blonde locks.

“I suppose I could be persuaded to help,” he said, a small smile tugging at his lips.

James grinned down at him, his embarrassment momentarily forgotten. “You’re the best, you know that?”

Regulus rolled his eyes. “Don’t push your luck, Potter.”

[cinnamontoastcrunch-15]

HELLO I moved last week and I have no WiFi or service in my flat (posting from a coffee shop) so I apologise for the lack of posting.

However, this was meant to be for today's wolfstarmicrofic prompt Basilisk, but it's officially much too long because I've missed writing to post lmao, so it's not a microfic.

(Ravenclaw Remus AU.)

"Lupin, you're patrolling with..." Moody flicks quickly through his notes, "Black."

"Oh, er... Alright," he says with a shrug, trying to pass himself off as calm.

Internally? Every single alarm is going off in his head.

Remus never exactly... spoke to Sirius Black, or his friends. Ravenclaws and Gryffindors aren't really destined to interact, and Remus would have chosen death over joining the Quidditch team. That didn't stop him from being one of far too many people in the school that had a major minor crush on Sirius.

Sure, he knew that Sirius had grown up rich and pampered. He always held himself in this way that made him seem ten times more important than everyone else. That wasn't exactly helped by the fact that he was a Gryffindor. Lily, Mary and Marlene were the only Gryffindors Remus has ever really tolerated. The rest are all pretentious as fuck. Everyone knows that.

Still, for some reason, his brain would short circuit whenever he was so much in the same room as Sirius. He still lays awake at night, humiliated about the time he accidentally caught Sirius' eyes and tripped over the bench in the Great Hall.

Joining the Order wasn't even a question for him. Anything to help them win the war. He hadn't exactly expected Sirius to do the same, but it just makes him feel like he's back in school. Frustratingly enough for him, Sirius has only gotten more attractive in the year since they've left school. It hasn't really mattered until now, though. He's been pretty successful in avoiding him. It's probably helped by the fact that he isn't even on Sirius' radar, but this? He's going to set the strangest first impression on the planet.

There's nothing he can do about it, though.

That's how Remus finds himself waiting outside the Order house, fidgeting with an unlit cigarette.

"Hey, Remus!"

There he is.

Remus looks up, shoving the cigarette back into the carton. Sirius has stopped in front of him, running a hand through his hair and grinning at Remus.

Leather jackets look weird on literally everyone other than him.

Remus has to jostle his brain into functioning. He blinks once, before finally mustering a polite smile.

"Hi. Should we get going?"

"Yeah. Yeah, let's go."

They walk in silence for a while, moving from spot to spot and taking the odd note.

Until Sirius decides he's done with all of that.

"Y'know, I was hoping you'd join the Order."

"Sorry?" Remus practically stops in his tracks, turning to Sirius with wide eyes. Shock ripples through him.

Hoping?

"I mean, I had a feeling you would. I'm just... glad you did, I guess."

"I didn't even know you knew I existed," Remus confesses quickly.

Sirius actually does stop moving, grabbing Remus' forearm and stopping him too.

"You're kidding, right?"

"No, really. You existed on this... separate plane. I mean, you were you. Everyone knew about you. Why would I be on your radar?"

"Remus," Sirius says slowly, eyes boring into Remus'. It sends a shiver down Remus' spine. "All I did was think about you."

"What?" Remus sputters, a strange mixture of confusion and shock overwhelming him.

"Oh, I had such a crush on you." He shrugs like it's nothing; like what he just said hasn't turned Remus' entire world on its axis. "I thought that was obvious, I mean... you're bloody brilliant. Ravenclaw prefect, running a study group-"

"I can't believe you've even given me a second thought," Remus says, a little breathless.

"Merlin, I did. I remember telling James that I'd fight a Basilisk for you." Sirius chuckles to himself, but Remus is losing control over his own responses scarily quickly. "I know you couldn't stand me, but-"

"Who said that?"

"Nobody had to." Sirius watches Remus, a little puzzled. "You're not the biggest fan of Gryffindors, right?"

Well, he's not wrong.

"Besides, you couldn't stay in the same room as me. You literally fell over yourself trying to get away from me before."

"Oh, God," Remus mutters under his breath, his face heating up uncomfortably. His one comfort has been that Sirius didn't notice him embarrassing himself every time he walked into the room.

"Sorry," Sirius says suddenly, releasing Remus' hand. "I didn't mean to- Christ, I've made things even more awkward, haven't I?"

Huh.

He's not as confident as Remus thought.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't mean- let's just forget I said that. Finish patrolling."

No.

Remus doesn't want to forget. He needs to do something, before Sirius never speaks to him again.

Hurriedly, he grabs Sirius' hand, pulling him into an alley nearby.

Well, he's committed to it now. No turning back.

"Remus, what-"

He pulls Sirius in by his stupidly perfect jacket and connects their lips before he has a chance to second guess himself.

Thankfully, Sirius wastes no time in falling into the kiss. His lips are soft against Remus', parting just enough for their tongues to meet.

The kiss is everything he could have imagined and more. Sirius is somehow both tentative and eager and he tastes like cinnamon and fuck, Remus may as well have died and gone to heaven. His hand involuntarily slides into Sirius' hair, and he's rewarded with a muffled gasp.

Okay, maybe Gryffindors aren't that bad.

[suugarbabe]

You are SO amazing love, never let anyone tell you any different. I WILL fight them 😤

Tysm for considering wolfstar!daughter, i think youd enjoy the current fics that are currently out for it. Most of them are x fred or george and it just reminds me of you everytime.

Sorry, this is probs going to be long 😬

For the prompt though, i imagine they came about reader when remus found her on a full moon as a toddler werewolf, abandond in the forest (last yr hogwarts or graduated doesnt matter, whatever you decide) and when Sirius finally finds Remus the next morning he's shocked, confused, and then melts. Big, tall, broard Remus has this small bundle of cuteness wrapped in his sweater trying to cuddle into him.

Whether youd like to continue on from there or do reader growing up or a time skip is up to you. Same as if James dies or not, whatever your brilliant mind decides 🧡 but if it helps this is how i see the family dynamic:

I think Sirius would be the overprotective kind of dad, never failing with that wonderful sense of dramatics!

While Remus is the calm voice of reason that talks himself down when he feels like he might be going a little overboard.

Of course we're Uncle Reggies little star, he will be mean to another child if they hurt you. He and James are constantly arguing over who's the better uncle.

James is the uncle that gives you alcohol illegally and doesnt adhere to a curfew.

So skip to hogwarts in some of the last years (im a ravenclaw so i always imagine reader as a ravenclaw but anyhouse would be fun to explore) and reader makes it official with Theo or Enzo. Harry's a tattle tale and tells his dad who then brags to Reggie, who the apparats him self the Sirius' to demand answers because "who was this vile thing that dared touch his star?? Boyfriend?!?! Fucking over his dead body!!" Fully expecting Sirius to agree with him. But he doesnt, he just sighs because at least they made it til 6th/7th yr before boys started, he'll give the poor boy a chance first. And then Remus bursts in and has a full meltdown. Thats his little wolf; his baby. She can have a boyfriend. A BOYFRIEND!?! He might puke. No this isnt allowed. Boys are gross. And nasty. And theyre going to hurt her. But not before he hurts them!! He's going to put the fear of godric into this boy! RIGHT NOW!! Wheres his wand? He needs to go to Hogwarts.

Its so unexpected that both Black brothers are frozen. Until Remus starts searching for his wand and Sirius has to calm him down while Regulus goads him on. And through all of it, reader and Enzo/Theo were standing at the door to 'meet the parents'.

And then however you want it to go from there love! So sorry that was soo long and rambely. Of couese no pressure to write it and take whatever creative liberties youd like!!

Thank you love x

The group had made an agreement that the girls would all get a flat together, as would the boys. So naturally Sirius, James and Remus planned and found one for themselves that was 'absolutely perfect' as Sirius put it since it back right up to a large patch of woods; 'Perfect for you, Moony'.

In the moment Remus had rolled his eyes, but truly he was thankful. By the last full moon of school, Remus had managed to transform back to himself without completely passing out. After the fourth full moon in the flat, Remus was able to still decently function after his transformations.

What neither Sirius nor James expected happened and they didn't know how to react initially. Sirius and James had lost sight of Remus toward the end of the night, now both transformed back to themselves looking for him.

When Sirius found him, he didn't expect the scene he walked upon. Remus shoulders were hunched over, and at first Sirius thought he was crying. But the closer he got, he realized it was not Remus making those noises, but...a child?

"Moony...what the bloody hell is that," Sirius voice was cautious, he was still convinced he might be hallucinating.

Remus turned around slowly, "She's like me, Pads. She...she was a tiny little wolf, I swear it." Sirius was skeptical, but the way Remus was looking down at you, every doubt was melting away. The way your tiny hands gripped on to Remus's sweater.

When Sirius got close enough, you reached out for him, and he was done for. When James caught up with the pair he had the same initial reaction. But like Sirius, one look at you and he was also convinced.

It had taken the girls no time to swoon after you, and the boys were forever grateful. While Remus declared himself your father (Sirius demanding his was Dad number 2). James became your fun uncle (funcle as he called himself, Lily rolling her eyes each time).

To say it had taken a village was not just a cliché, but reality. Sirius was every over protective father, having a flair for the dramatics any time anything happened, good or bad. Remus was more calm, essentially the voice of reason when Sirius was talking circles. You eventually became the perfect mix of the two, which they both loved.

When you got your Hogwarts letter Sirius threw a party, Remus thinking it was a little over the top but Sirius insisted, "Our little star got her letter, we're celebrating Moony." Regulus had brought you off to the side, insisting you owl him if anyone is mean to you, he'll come and fix it, "Even if it's another little twat kid, you let me know, okay Star?"

After fourth year, James let you try his beer for the first time. Sirius lost his mind, Remus reminded Sirius how much worse he was at your age and that if James was letting her try it that it was a better situation than he used to get in to.

What you didn't expect was the commotion that ensued during Christmas holiday seventh year. It was tradition for you and your dads to throw a party on Christmas Eve. You were putting the final touches on the Christmas biscuits you usually made when a loud pop sounded in the living room.

"SIRIUS GET YOUR ARSE IN HERE NOW!" The voice of Regulus rang throughout your house and you instantly froze. Sirius sauntered in, not bothered by his younger brothers tone, "Seriously, with the shouting Reg, what is it now?"

Regulus looked over Sirius shoulder at you in the kitchen before turning back to his brother, "How could you let her, huh? How could you let her do this, with a Slytherin no less? My little star? Who is this vile snake you've let touch our little girl, a boyfriend, Sirius, really?"

You held your breath, fully expecting your dad to lose it, go full on dramatics, but instead he just pinched the bridge of his nose, "Honestly, Reg, calm down. I'm surprised it took us till seventh year for her to finally decide to get a boyfriend, don't get me wrong, I'm thankful," he turned pointing at you, "but I trust her, Reg. And you should too. She's not like us. Really though, darling, a Slytherin?"

Sirius turned to face you and all you could muster was a shrug of your shoulders before your father burst in. "WHAT did I just hear? My wolf has a WHAT? With a WHO? Darling are you mad, who is this boy? A boyfriend? Oh my Godric, I think I'm going to be sick. Who is he, star? Who, tell me now. I'm getting my wand. Sirius, my wand now."

Remus held out his hand expectantly, but nothing happened. Both Regulus and Sirius stood frozen, mouths agape at Remus's reaction before a sly smirk crawled its way onto Sirius's features, "Oh my my, Moony, this is a sight."

At that moment the Potter's all appeared, the air obviously thick with tension. James looked between his friends, "Oi, what did we miss?"

When you saw Harry you were instantly enraged, your inherant traits from Sirius coming in to play, "You little fucking rat, you weasel, you knew I was going to tell them over break, how could you tell Reggie before I could tell my parents, I'll hex you Potter, I swear it!"

You started after Harry, only for James's strong arms to lift you up by the waist and hold you tight, "Woah there, mini Sirius, calm down. I think this might be my fault. Harry told me out of concern and I might have boasted about your feats to Reggie."

You went slump in your Uncle's grasp, "Uncle Jamie...how could you." You were pouting as he sat you down, giving you a tight hug, "I'm sorry, star, I was just so dang proud of you."

You looked over at your parents, Sirius now rubbing Remus's back who was pinching the bridge of his nose. There was a knock on the door, causing everyone's attention to switch towards the distrubance.

Walking towards the door, you looked back with your hand on the handle, "Be nice." The marauders and Harry held up their hands in defense, Regulus crossed his, "No promises."

When you opened the door, Enzo stood there, cheeks slightly pink. "Erm, are you sure it's okay for me to be here?" You laughed slightly out of embarrassment, "How much did you hear exactly?"

"Enough to know I'm more afraid of Professor Lupin than Sirius," he whispered as he followed you through the door.

"Dad, Father, this is Enzo. My boyfriend," You gestured toward Enzo who gave a shy wave.

Remus placed his hand on his own chest, "Oh thank god it's Berkshire. I was really worried, star dear. Really worried. Thought maybe it was going to be the Nott boy."

This caused both you and Enzo to laugh, Enzo speaking up finally, "Merlin, no, sir. Nott's afraid of Y/n actually. So you've done a good job."

"Don't start kissing ass just yet, Berkshire," Regulus stuck a finger out at the boy.

"Uncle Reggie. Behave," you scolded him like a child, he looked down at the floor like one, too.

Sirius stepped forward, extending his hand, "So sorry, my boy. I'm Sirius, Y/n's father. You've met Moony, erm, Professor Lupin, her dad. He's sorry for anything you may have heard through the door."

Enzo grabbed his hand, shaking it firmly, "It's alright, sir. It's a pleasure to meet the men who've raised such a strong woman." Enzo smiled at you affectionately, causing you to blush in front of your family.

"Look at that, Moons. Our little star is growing up," Sirius wiped a faked fear, while Remus was holding back real ones.

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose like your dad had done earlier, "Alright, who's hungry, hmm? Shall we eat?" You led Enzo towards the large table. Everyone followed suit, both Regulus and Remus grumbling slightly.

As you sat down, Enzo gave your thigh a squeeze. He leaned over and whispered in your ear, "Star, huh? That's cute." You side-eyed him, giving him a slight glare, "You tell anyone, you're a dead man."

Enzo grinned to himself, "It'd be an honor to die by your hands, love."

Across the table, Sirius gave Remus's thigh a squeeze, "She's growing up, Moons. Our little star." Remus nodded, pouring himself some brandy, "That she is, Pads. Our little wolf is a woman now." Sirius scoffed, "She still needs us though right?" Remus nodded, smiling, "We'll always be there for her."

[aveloka-draws]

YOU are making me play the game while I am loosing my mind because thesis buy your art is soul feeding how dare you (praise the lamb!)

I fucking LOVE Shamura you draw them less than others but when you do they always enter with a bang! (And important important plots thats why they be best bishop in my not at all biased opinion 😂) can't wait to see them more in your style and stories!

Also something I've noticed why Shamura being that bitch it doesn't come to me as completely unsympathetic or meant to be %100 cruel. "You refused to bow did you not" speaks volumes imho. You didn't break or fell to grief then you WON'T do it now. Both meant to sting a little and give them a chin up...at least that's how I interprited it. Will they accept it? Will he and lamb finally have the conversation about...EVERYTHING they need to have? Narinder , why everything went the way it did , the lambs , godhood... because if the bloody MS tells me Shamura didn't need them because how brilliant they are then I would DAMN well want to have them as an advisor.

Sorry for the vord vomit I love your art and you for making them!! Have a great day! ❤️❤️

(They are telling u to please work on your thesis and praise the lamb)

I dont think Shamura is necesarily evil either, mostly stating things as they are. While they are doing things out of their own interest and dont care to be kind about it, still its way better to have them as an ally me thinks. Even if its little what they can contribute in their current state its still valuable.

I appreciate the word vomit ✨✨ hope ur days good too!

[moontopuff]

Summary: Cold day at Hogwart, you freezing out, and twins making it better :)

It was a bitterly cold day at Hogwarts, the kind where the wind snaked through every cloth you were. The sun was hidden behind clouds, casting long shadows without offering much warmth. You, Fred, and George Weasley were trudging through the castle grounds, heading to your next lesson. The cold had sunk deep into your bones, and despite your Hufflepuff scarf being tightly wrapped around your neck and mouth, it wasn’t doing much to help.

“Why is it so bloody cold today...” you grumbled into the scarf, your words muffled and barely escaping the fabric. The three of you were making your way across the courtyard, the wind biting at your exposed nose.

Fred, with his usual grin, gave you a sideways glance. “Probably has something to do with the fact that it’s freezing and there’s no sun. Just a theory, of course.”

You huffed, narrowing your eyes in mock-annoyance, and swatted at him lightly. “Oh, brilliant observation, Fred. Thanks for that groundbreaking weather report.”

George snickered beside you. “Still cold? Your scarf’s covering half of your face. Isn't it enough to keep you warm?”

“No, dummy! My nose is still freezing,” you said, tugging the scarf higher up your lips in vain. “I need full face coverage or else this scarf does nothing! Ugh my poor, poor cold nose... Care to touch if you don't belivie?” You gestured dramatically, kinda annoyed because of the cold, offering them the chance to check for themselves just how cold your face still was.

The twins exchanged grins and before you could react to their new, probably stupid, idea, they leaned in closer to your face. Fred touched your left cheek and George your right one at the same moment. Both twins dramatically hissing from cold.

Fred was first to spoke, feigning shock. “Blimey! I think I’ve lost a finger!”

George followed suit, dramatically clutching his hand as if he’d just touched a block of ice. “It’s like touching a snowman! How is this possible, Puffy?”

You couldn’t help but giggle at their antics, rolling your eyes at their silliness. “You two are ridiculous!”

You were walking two steps before them and still wrestling with the fabic, trying to cover more of your face, when suddenly you felt an extra warmth being wrapped around your head making you stop in your tracks. You took a second to register that one of them had draped his own Gryffindor scarf over your face, covering your cheeks and nose, leaving just your eyes peeking out. Exactly how you wanted it to be from the beginning.

“Oh?” You blinked, trying to adjust your vision, but the two scarves had reduced your view to a mere sliver. The sudden warmth made your heart flutter as much as the fabric heated your cold skin.

“Now, that you look more like walking clothes than human, it should be okay, right?” The voice was teasing, and close, but so was the other one. You simply couldn’t tell which twin had taken the initiative this time.

“Perfect.” the other chimed in, adjusting the extra scarf with a flourish. Still, they both were so close, and...

And you could feel yourself blush, warmth creeping up under the layers. “Perfect, huh? More like a bundled-up puffball.”

"A cute one" voice said, making you weirdly warm and dizzy.

“And now you're just the perfect mix of Hufflepuff and Gryffindor. Ah, didn't we make you so pretty, Puffy?" the other teased.

The warmth from the extra scarf did its job, but what really made you feel warmer was the thoughtfulness of their gesture. They could be sweet when they wanted to—though you’d never tell them that directly, lest it inflate their egos even more.

“Thanks,” you mumbled, trying to hide the smile creeping up your face, forgetting that they wouldn't be able to see it anyway because of a scarf. Taking a mental deep breath in and out, you shushed the weird feelings away, and focused on the boys on your two sides.“You two. We’re getting hot chocolate after lessons. No excuses!”

“With that weird Muggle sweet flying on the top of cocoa?” they asked in unison, their excitement palpable.

“Exactly.” You laughed again, the happiness in your voice clear even through the layers of fabric. “And whipped cream!”

[midnightfictionlibrary]

Oh, Honey - Jamie Tartt x Fem!Reader

Jamie Tartt x Fem!Reader

Content : jealousy, friends to lovers, a bit of violence, flirting, kissing

Word Count : 1.6k

Plot Summary : Jamie doesn’t know how to react when he sees you flirting with a West Ham player. 

A/N : More of my love, Jamie, there's a criminally low amount of Jamie fanfic---as always pls like and reblog if you enjoy <3

“Well don’t you look gorgeous?” You hear the voice before you see its owner, and you roll your eyes before picking your drink up from the bar and turning around. 

“And you are?” You deadpan. 

“Westley Smythe. But I’m better known as the star player of West Ham.” He quirks a smile at you and you try hard not to laugh right in his face. 

“You do know who I am?” You ask him, and he raises an eyebrow, looking you up and down as if there was no way he could know. 

“I’m Richmond’s athletic trainer. ” You watch the wheels turn in his mind, and you smooth your dress on yourself, flashing him your own brilliant smile. “I don’t really associate with West Ham.” 

He shrugs. “No one has to know.” He says, and this time, you do laugh out loud, actually tickled that this man was being so bold. 

But your laugh alerts your own star player, a certain number 9. Jamie’s jaw clenches when he sees you laughing with Smythe, and the grip on his beer bottle (a rare treat Roy allowed him) tightens. He feels Roy lean over, and he rolls his eyes in anticipation for whatever Roy has to say. 

“Bloody fucking hell, Tartt. Just tell the girl you like her.” Jamie can’t help but steal glances at you, where you’re chatting away with the West Ham player. And…are you enjoying his company? He thinks about you, how you move when a song you like comes on, the smell of your honey scented perfume. 

“I can’t.”

“Yes you fucking can.” Roy grunts, and with that he puts another beer in front of Jamie and wanders off to mingle with Ted and Beard. 

This leaves Jamie with admittedly, a lot to think about, even though Roy hadn’t said much. 

You keep a tight smile on your face, and you glance to the boys, noticing Jamie was watching you. Your face flushes and you tuck a piece of hair behind your ear. Even though Westley was definitely not your type, you decide you could maybe use him to make Jamie a bit jealous. 

For the past few months, it always seems like Jamie is on the edge of asking you something. There’s stolen glances, smiles that linger a bit too long. You even find yourself checking over him after games more often than other players. You and Jamie were friendly, even friends, but you couldn’t deny the extremely large crush you held on the Mancunian. 

You reach out and brush a light hand on Smythe’s arm, causing him to step a bit closer to you. You glanced again at Jamie, the muscles in his perfect jaw jumping at the sight of you and Smythe. You grin to yourself, angling your body so you’re facing away from Jamie. You felt maybe a little evil, but maybe it would push him to talk to you a bit more. Of course, you could talk to him, but it seemed like anytime you tried to flirt, Jamie was completely oblivious to what you were trying to do. 

You roll your eyes as Westley continues to drone on, casting a peek over your shoulder. Jamie was still watching you, but he was standing now. He sets his bottle on the table and skulks out of the bar, and you can’t help but smirk. 

The next day, you’re up in the box with Keeley and Rebecca, who you inform of your jealous-Jamie plan. 

Keeley grins. “I love it babes.” And Rebecca nods.

“Maybe it showed him what he was missing.” She suggests, and you point a finger at her, settling into your seat. You cross your arms and gaze down at the field but the huge monitor over the stands shows closeups of the team. You can’t keep your eyes off of Jamie, and Keeley leans in. 

“He looks grumpy, I think your little plan worked, yeah?” She grins, nudging you. You shrug, but secretly you were pleased. If he was jealous over you, surely that meant he liked you. 

The game starts, the usual fast paced back and forth making your head spin. You notice that Smythe has the ball, about to score, when suddenly -

“Oh my god!” You exclaim, standing straight up out of your seat. Jamie had slide-tackled the other player, knocking him down, causing Smythe to roll a little bit. Westley Smythe stands up and charges towards Jamie, who didn’t seem like he was going to back down, in fact, he was smirking, walking to meet Smythe. Jamie pushes Smythe hard, but before a real fight can break out, the referee interferes, gesticulating to Jamie. 

Finally, the referee pulls out a red card. 

Keeley and Rebecca sit next to you, stunned. 

You look up at the monitor and catch Jamie smirking, tongue out, cocky expression on display as he walks back towards the dugout. You sit down, slightly stunned. But also, slightly into it. You watch Roy shake his head at Jamie and send him into the locker room. You quickly stand up, making your way out of the box.

Your tennis shoes make a soft tap, tap, tap on the floor as you walk down the long, bright hallway to the locker room. You round the doorway and stop, right as Jamie looks up at you. 

“What the hell, Jamie? A red card? Not to mention, you could have hurt yourself and then work on your ankle would have had to start over.” You put your hands on your hips, moving forward towards him. 

“Oh sorry, are you worried about your little West Ham boyfriend?” He says, scoffing as he stands up, turning to face his locker. 

“Boyfriend? I don’t care about Westley.” 

“On a first name basis, huh?” 

You clench your teeth. He was going to be difficult about this. “Why do you even care?” 

Jamie shrugs, still facing away from you. “I don’t.” 

“So why’d you tackle him, then?” 

At this, you can see Jamie’s body tense. “He’s a bloody wanker, that’s why.” 

At this, you scoff. He was really going to stand in front of you and pretend as if you didn’t know what this was about. At the sound of your noise of indignation he turns around to face you. There’s a glint in his eyes and he steps closer to you. Very close. Noses almost touching close. He’s slightly taller than you, so he looks down at you. 

“Maybe I don’t like the way he was looking at you last night, yeah? Like you were a piece of fucking meat.” 

“I can take care of myself.” You assure him, biting back a smirk. You can’t help it though, a devilish smirk was playing on the corners of your lips. “Are you jealous, Tartt?” 

You expected him to smirk. You even expected him to maybe laugh, that beautiful smile on display. Instead, he licks his lips, quirking an eyebrow at you. “I think you know the answer to that.” 

“Then say it.” You challenge. 

At this, Jamie smirks. “Yes. I was jealous. You are smart, funny, and kind, and seeing Westley Smythe all over you made me want to tackle him on the pitch.” 

You’re a bit taken aback. You didn’t expect him to pile compliments on you, and your eyes soften. “Oh..” you breathe out. 

Jamie continues to gaze down at you, leaning in even closer than he was before, his lips hovering centimeters above yours. You watch, mesmerized, drunk in his presence. 

“Seems you might like having me jealous over you, yeah?” Jamie teases. “But that’s okay, as long as I get you all to myself.” 

You swallow, your eyes trailing to his lips. “You’ve always had me all to yourself.” You whisper, glancing up to meet his gaze again. But the look on his face is different. Where before it was smirking, sexy, teasing, now it was surprised and anguished. 

“Wh..what?” He manages to get out, and you kick yourself, believing you said the wrong thing. “Just how long have you been trying to make me jealous?” He asks, reaching up to gently push a strand of hair behind your ear. 

You shrug, suddenly bashful, cheeks burning red hot as he brushed his hand there briefly. You feel a gentle hand under your chin, lifting your gaze to meet his. He searches your face, a small, pleased smile playing on his lips. 

“Only since last night. I couldn’t take the tension anymore.” You whisper, and Jamie laughs softly. He slides his hand to the side of your face, lifting his other hand to mirror it. Cradling your face gently, he leans in. 

Before anything happens, his eyes travel from your lips to your eyes. “Can I kiss you?” He whispers. Your mouth feels dry, but you nod, and he leans in, gently connecting his lips to yours. 

You kiss him back, feeling as if you were melting, and you slide your arms around his neck, pulling yourself closer to him. His hands leave your face and snake around your waist, holding you as close as he can. “You are as sweet as honey.” He breathes into your ear, and you shiver. 

“Oi!” You hear a booming voice yell from the doorway and you instinctively look over, still tangled in each other’s arms. There stood Roy, an eyebrow raised. “Not that I don’t think it’s about time the two of you kissed, but Ted wants to see you, Tartt.” 

Jamie looks at you, stealing another kiss before winking at you, following Roy out of the locker room door. You stood there, smiling and blushing to yourself. You guessed Jamie just needed a little push, is all. You couldn’t wait to continue what you started.

[polo-drone-070]

Into the Hive: Duncan’s Conversion

Chapter 2 : The conversion

Prelude: The Final Decision

PDU-070

The quiet hum of the preparation room felt louder than usual to PDU-070. Across from it sat Duncan, his tall frame tense but eager. This was not just a standard task for 070. It was its first conversion as a designated converter—a duty it had earned through unwavering service to the Hive. Yet, beneath the calm exterior, there was something more: pride. Duncan was its mentee. Soon, he would be its brother in the Hive.

“You understand what you are asking for,” 070 began, its voice steady. “To become a Polo-Drone is to cease being Duncan. Your individuality will be erased. You will serve the Hive in mindless obedience and compliant uniformity.”

Duncan’s gaze was unwavering. “I understand. I’ve felt the pull since I joined. I want this—I need this. I need to be part of something bigger.”

070 felt a flicker of something it rarely acknowledged: satisfaction. Duncan’s resolution was not just a victory for the Hive—it was a testament to 070’s own efforts as a mentor.

“The pull you feel,” 070 said, “will not lessen. It is the Hive calling you. Soon, you will belong. But first, you must confirm your resolution. Speak plainly: what is it that you seek?”

Duncan leaned forward slightly, his voice firm. “I seek unity. Discipline. To serve the team without question. To be part of the Hive.”

A brief silence passed before 070 rose. It moved with deliberate precision, ensuring its tone carried the authority of the Hive. “Your resolution is noted. You will not remain Duncan for long. Follow.”

As Duncan stood, 070 felt a swell of pride and calm anticipation. This was not just a task—it was a unification.

The Journey to the Unity Center

Maximus

Before leaving the Gold stadium, I let the rubber polo recedes a bit for a last check on Duncan. “Oi, mate,” I said, glancing back at Duncan as we made our way through the stadium halls. “You nervous?”

He shrugged, trying to act cool, but I could tell he was buzzing. “A little. Not gonna lie.”

I grinned, clapping him on the back. “You’ll be alright. Trust me, yeah? The Hive’s bloody brilliant. But… enjoy these last moments, yeah? Being human, having a laugh—it’s good while it lasts.”

Duncan frowned, thoughtful. “Do you miss it? Being, you know, just Maximus?”

I paused for a moment, scratching at the gold chain tattoo on my neck. “Nah. Not really. The Hive’s worth it. But it’s different. You’ll see.” I smirked, shaking off the moment. “Now, come on. Don’t keep the Hive waiting.” As wewent towards the Unity center I felt the rubber polo reappearing, bringing me back to the mindless bliss of drone existence.

Fitting the Rubber Polo

PDU-070

The Unity Center doors slid open with a soft hiss, revealing a space that filled PDU-070 with pride and purpose. Black walls gleamed under golden lights, and rows of conversion pods hummed softly, like they were alive. The air was thick with the scent of rubber, sharp and intoxicating.

Duncan hesitated, taking it all in. “It’s… intense.”

070 nodded. “Affirmative. It is where you will find purpose and become the drone you crave to be.”.

Inside, 070 took the rubber polo from its designated drawer. Holding it up, it watched as Duncan’s eyes widened, his breath hitching slightly. The gleam of the material, the way it caught the golden light—it was mesmerizing.

“This is your uniform,” 070 said. “It is a symbol of your submission and unity. Touch it.”

Duncan reached out, his fingers brushing against the glossy surface. 070 felt a flicker of pride as the younger man shivered. The Hive’s pull was undeniable.

“Feel its call,” 070 instructed. “It draws you closer to the Hive.”

Duncan nodded, his voice a whisper. “I feel it.”

“Put it on,” 070 commanded.

As Duncan pulled the polo over his shoulders, buttoning it tight, 070 observed with calm satisfaction. The sight of the glossy black-and-gold material molding to Duncan’s frame stirred something within it—a sense of accomplishment, of fulfillment.

“Each button seals your fate,” 070 said. “You are no longer Duncan. You are becoming polo-drone-061.”

Duncan exhaled shakily, but his words were steady. “It feels right.”

Bound to the Conversion Pod

The pod stood open, its sleek black padding glinting under the golden light. “Step inside,” 070 instructed.

Duncan hesitated for only a moment before obeying, his movements deliberate. As he settled into the pod, the padding molded around him, and shiny restraints slid into place, locking over his wrists, ankles, and chest.

“The Hive will complete you,” 070 said. “This is where Duncan ends.”

The gas mask descended, fitting snugly over Duncan’s face. A soft hiss filled the pod as the air changed, carrying the scent of rubber—intoxicating, overwhelming, consuming.

“Breathe deeply,” 070 instructed, its voice even. “Feel the Hive filling your mind.”

The visor in front of Duncan lit up with golden spirals. His breathing slowed, and his voice began to echo softly through the chamber: “Unity is everything. Obedience is freedom. Uniformity is perfection.”

The Erasure

“Conversion at 5%,” 070 announced, its tone steady but its thoughts filled with quiet satisfaction. This was its work—its guidance leading Duncan to this moment.

“Your former identity is slipping away,” 070 said, watching closely as Duncan’s body relaxed into the pod. “No thoughts. Only obedience.”

“No thoughts. Only obedience,” Duncan repeated, his voice calm, detached.

“37%,” 070 continued. “Resistance is gone. Purpose takes its place.”

“Disciplined. Focused. Controlled,” Duncan recited, his words precise and flawless.

At 55%, 070 felt an undeniable wave of pleasure. The Hive was growing. Duncan was no more—061 was emerging. This unity, this perfection, was its purpose.

“96%,” 070 said. “The final trace of Duncan is being erased. No name. Only a number.”

“No name,” Duncan repeated. “Only a number. Just a number. Forever.”

“100%. Programming complete,” 070 announced, its voice carrying a rare note of pride. The pod released its restraints, and 061 stepped out, smooth and deliberate.

Polo-Drone-061 Emerges

070 stood before the new drone, assessing its form, its precision. “State your designation.”

“Polo-Drone-061 online,” it replied, its voice calm, robotic.

070 felt a quiet pleasure—a rare acknowledgment of its own accomplishment. This was its first conversion, and it had succeeded.

“It is no longer an individual,” 070 said. “It exists to serve the Hive.”

“It is no longer an individual. It exists to serve the Hive,” 061 echoed.

“Good drone,” 070 affirmed. “Uniformed. Compliant. Obedient.”

As 061 joined the row of drones, 070 took a moment to reflect. This was more than duty—it was unity. Pride and purpose intertwined within the Hive.

“We are the Hive,” 070 intoned. “We are one.”

And as the drones replied in perfect unison, 070 felt nothing but calm, focused bliss.

___________________

With special thoughts for my first convert @polo-drone-061 .

If you want to be like Duncan and join the Golden Army, contact our Recruiters @brodygold, @goldenherc9 or @polo-drone-001. As a polo-drone recruiter, PDU-070/Maximus is also always available to provide more information to the curious, be it about Golden Army or Polo-drones. PM opens. Feel free to message it !

[gh0st-author]

lover of mine

pairing: William James Moriarty x reader

tags: angst, hurt/comfort but very bittersweet

summary: when i take a look at my life and all of my crimes, you're the only thing that i think i got right

warnings: mentions of death, lots of sad thoughts

A/N: ha ha .. guess who's back ... jk jk i've been away for a little while and i dipped in true fanfic author fashion BUT HEY im back now. and i was craving a bit of pain so here is a lil something angsty. its more of a character study than anything... also could you tell that ive been listening to lover of mine lmao

The serene silence of the night was interrupted by a strangled gasp, a broken intake of air momentarily cutting through the calm as a figure arose suddenly from their sleeping position, clutching their chest. Scarlet eyes flashed open, disoriented, hauntingly glancing around the room, the man trying to gather his bearings. He felt as if the walls were caving in around him, although the logical part of his brain was aware that those notions were only in his head. But lately, there was little difference between nightmares and consciousness to William.

And that was all that this was— a nightmare. A horrible fragment of his imagination seeping into his dreams and haunting his waking hours. Usually, the myriad of thoughts and emotions was kept tightly at bay in the furthest reaches of his mind, but at night when his defenses were lowered and his being slumbered, they seeped through and poisoned his dreams, his consciousness becoming a prison, caging him in. Faces flashed before his eyes, his own bloody hands, the weight of his own deeds and sins— oftentimes he felt less like a man and more like a whirling swarm of guilt, despair, and nihilty.

He directed his gaze at the ceiling, eyes tracing the veiny cracks weaving over it like spider webs, as his mind churned with thoughts. His soul was screaming out, but no sound seeped out. Power comes in response to a need, not desire. He felt no desire for bloodshed he dished out, found no enjoyment in it, yet he continued to drag himself further into hell, each step heavy as stone but unwavering, preserving what little hope was left at the cost of damning his soul. That was something he needed to do. He even abhorred violence, deeming it an absolute evil. Violence for violence was the rule of beasts, yet most days he felt as if it was the only language he knew how to speak. Maybe before long, he will become just like them, a violent animal of claws and teeth that did not know why it bit, crossing the blurry line of this dark gray area he roamed in and passing the point of no return. 

A minuscule movement and soft rustling of the sheets at his side drew his attention away from his musings. He gazed down at the figure sleeping next to him peacefully, face serene and bathed in moonlight. Shadows splayed over her skin making her look even more ethereal, hair draped over the silky pillowcase forming a halo around her head. An angel— or perhaps divine punishment for his sins. 

She was a being pure and unsullied by the darkness of the world; the darkness in him. Sometimes, he was almost afraid to touch her, in fear of tainting her pristine radiance with his stained hands. The mere fact that a person so far fallen like him was able to bask in the warmth she provided was as cruel as it was bitter-sweet. 

She was an existence that he shouldn't have been able to approach, and the reality of that seemed too harsh and unkind in actuality, yet he often found himself wondering if that was really true, though.

Reaching out to brush away a stray lock of hair from her forehead, he once again contemplated that thought. Maybe fate wasn't evil or cruel for sending him this brilliant shard of light. Perhaps it was actually merciful, providing him with a single taste of heaven— something he thought he had no hope of ever reaching. Maybe it was kind enough to gift him with this momentary reprieve. 

Her brows furrowed in her sleep as his ministrations disturbed her slumber. He slowly drew his hand back as her eyes opened, blissfully unaware of the turmoil in his. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you."

She shook her head and inched ever so closer to him. "Why are you not asleep? You have to teach early tomorrow." Her worried gaze ran over his face. "Did something happen?"

"No, nothing." His throat was tight, each word rasping out almost painfully. "I am just... pondering."

She hummed lowly, considering him, then rose to sit next to him, leaning her head against his shoulder. "Hmm, a bad nightmare?" 

He sighed deeply, bone-weary, resting his cheek against her temple. "Don't concern yourself with it. I promise I am fine."

She let out another hum, and he knew what she was attempting, yet he was too weak to refuse her. She gently cradled his hands in her lap from where they'd been clutching the sheets and started tracing little patterns with her thumbs over them. "Tell me about it"

A small wry tilting of his lips, too fleeting to be called a smile, accompanied her actions. Exactly as he predicted. She knew precisely what to do to get him to talk. And that was no fault of hers, for he always acquiesced and yielded to her wants. "When I put my life into perspective, and all of my sins and crimes I committed, you are the one singular decision in it that I think I made right."

Her hands paused their movements and her gaze flew to his face, confused and slightly vexed. "What do you mean?"

Her face was so sincere, so unwaveringly loving, that he was barely able to endure the depth of her gaze. Yet he was unable to tear his eyes away from hers as the words spilled from his trembling lips. "My only right choice was meeting you, despite all of my wrongdoings. But your place is not with me, in the shadows. You should be out under the sun, never touched by our darkness."

Her brows furrowed once again, this time more severely, and he observed her face becoming even more confused and irked. "William you are talking nonsense." She clutched his hands tighter. "I chose you, William. Promised to be by your side through the good and the bad. No one else. You"

Another piece of his soul bloomed and withered away with her words, leaving its rot embedded deep in his chest. He slowly rose one hand from her grip to rest it gently on her cheek. "How I wish I could've loved you under different circumstances."

"Stop that!" she protested, shock subsiding, replaced with indignation. "You fight for equality. You are noble. You are not evi—"

"There is nothing noble about what I do." The look he gave her was cold and mournful, closed off. Any semblance of warmth leeched out of it. "Taking someone's life— even for a greater cause— is never justice." Dropping his hand from her face, he inched away from her, pulling away as the thick walls he usually built to keep these thoughts away crumbled in her presence. As he confessed to her the depths of his despair. "I never told you this before, but I plan to die." He didn't know if saying these words was a weight off his chest, or the last nail in his proverbial coffin. "I plan to atone with my death, to disappear as the last blight on society. To end the great evil that the masses depict me to be."

"Don't you dare!" Her words were a shocked gasp. And suddenly she understood— he saw it in her eyes that she did. She saw his guilt. Guilt, and grief, and resentment, and loathing. An inescapable torment weighing him down, trapping him, crushing him under the immense pressure of his deeds. A bottomless pit pulling him into its depths of despair. She understood why he condemned wrongdoings so harshly, why he mourned the loss of life. There was probably no one who valued human life more than him, yet was forced to extinguish it to save the majority. And he saw her terror. He saw her grief, her anguish, her heartbreak. 

With a sob, she threw herself in his embrace. She was shaking, trembling in his arms, and his chest caved in knowing he was the cause of her pain. Her plea was a broken whisper. "Don't you dare, William. Not like... that. Never like that. Remember our deal: Where you go, I go. If you die, I'll follow, since there is no me without you."

His mouth opened to protest, to refute her argument, to undoubtedly say something akin to her life holding more value than his, but she halted him with a firm grip on his shoulders. "Promise me!"

Her eyes were boring into his, and once again he found himself rendered speechless and unable to resist her. "I promise I won't." The falsehood tasted like ash on his tongue, and not for the first time he wanted to cut the lying appendage off. What good did it serve him if it only knew treachery and deceit? If it would only bring her more pain.

Her trembling hands wound around his figure as she hugged him tightly once again. "You are everything to me, William. I don't know what I would do without you. Please... Please never say something like that again."

A shuddering breath left his lips and he leaned completely into her, resting his head in the crook of her neck, feeling incredibly worn out and frail. "How do you not condemn me?"

Her hands slowly made their way up to brush through his hair, so achingly gentle. He couldn't remember when the last time that he'd been touched so lovingly was. Couldn't remember if he'd ever been before meeting her. "I love you, William, the broken parts and everything. Stained hands or not. I have always vowed to stay by your side. No matter how much our souls are tainted, we will spend the rest of our lives atoning for it— together. After all, is it better to just be born good or to achieve goodness through your own effort?"

She leaned back to smile at him, then brushed a soft kiss against his lips, still trembling from the onslaught of his raging inferno inside him. "Hurt and grieve but don't suffer alone. Use the pain as a motive to continue forward. You will heal and you'll rise above it all."

Oh, she was so cruel, unintentionally so. Her sincerity was like bitter wine down his throat or a poison slowly making its way through his bloodstream. The simple fact that she truly believed there was any chance of redemption for him hurt more than death by a thousand papercuts. "I was correct." His hand lightly traced her cheek once again. Every word was a wound slowly bleeding out, draining his strength with it. "I really do not deserve you."

She shook her head, somber once again. "Stop saying that. I can't think of a man more worthy of my love and redemption." 

Darkness without light was an abyss. Light without darkness was blinding. You could not have a coin with only one side. Maybe they were like that. She was his perfect antithesis, his other side. The one that would grab and pull him out of the bottomless abyss of living hell, and he was the one that would ground her and shield her from flying too close to the sun. She would provide warmth to thaw away his frost, and he would keep her fire from burning out too fast. He only hoped he would be around long enough for her to not need him anymore. He hoped she wouldn't be too furious with him after he'd perished. What was another broken promise added to his ever-growing list of sins?

Because he couldn't stay with her in the light. She was still so incredibly radiant, not as far gone as he was. He knew that only the dead have seen the end of war. And that has always been his plan from the beginning. For how could he, a sinner as vile as the ones he was ridding the world of so diligently, be allowed to live in this new pristine world he was trying to create? How could she still see something good in him when he was the biggest evil that had to be eradicated? His fate has been set in stone since the first day he took Albert's hand, maybe even before that, yet with every new day he found his resolve on that matter wavering more and more. With each kiss from her; with every touch; with every love-filled glance— she made his icy determination crumble under her warm light. He was nothing but a coward wearing the face of a revolutionary, desperately clinging to life— to her— when he knew he couldn't. But for her, he almost thought it was worth it to live.

Sometimes he felt as if he could feel time moving, slipping through his fingers, and that dreaded moment of judgment creeping up closer and closer behind him, breathing down his neck. A walking dead man— that's what he was. The person currently cradling her, whispering sweet lies and false promises, was just his shell, a ticking time bomb or a lit candle only waiting for its fuse to burn out. That is precisely why he said nothing more as she urged him to go back to sleep once again. Said nothing as she draped the covers over them. Said nothing as the stifling silence threatened to pull him under once again. 

He would not be sleeping tonight, although she did not need to know that.