#not to say frustration and annoyance isn’t a natural part of life of course

[favroitecrime]

not much to say here just that the juxtaposition of having the privilege to complain about doordash vs… yeah.

[cows-wearing-my-sweater]

acolyte

"what could be worse than having nothing to depend on? / we used to be friends"

word count: 1272 warnings: lots of angst lol notes: i have written a fic in months but !! hi again !! missed posting these a lot <3

There’s something inexplicable about him.

Matty’s hands move up and down the frets of his guitar easily. You curse the fact that your eyes are drawn to him with the same level of ease. Two dark curls droop over Matty’s forehead as he plays, eyes nearly shut and lips parted almost imperceptibly. You see it, though. The song he’s playing isn’t one you can name, but you recognize it. It feels like a song you heard last summer, like maybe if you could drink his melody you would remember it again. 

You hate the label “friends with benefits,” mostly because it feels far too simple for the situation you’re in. “Friends with benefits” makes you feel like you’re just a quick fuck for someone who can tolerate you – surely that’s not what you are to Matty. No, this is different. It’s slow with him. There’s purpose and contemplation behind every deliberate kiss he places on your body, he takes his time coaxing noises out of you when you’re straddling his lap and hungry for everything you know he’s capable of. You want — rather, need — this to be something more. 

Typically, you can deal with Matty on bad days. “Bad” meaning days where he incessantly (albeit accidentally) reminds you of the nature of your relationship: fleeting moments of passion and a lack of commitment. You received a text earlier in the morning asking you to come over. Not for sex, not for the aforementioned passion, but just to exist near each other for a while. Ever since the beginning of your hookups with him, normal platonic hangouts had come less frequently; they always held a sort of tension, at least in your mind. Should I tell him or should I speak through our touch? But the request today had given you a glimmer of hope, a flutter in your heart.

And it really had gone quite well at first. The moments you spend with Matty with no strings attached, no sexual undertones, are some of your most cherished. You could let yourself fall for him like this without hesitation, and occasionally you let yourself believe he could do the same for you. 

Something in the air shifted over the course of the day, though. It’s a festering frustration, one that spreads its tendrils further and further despite how little you want it. Just like Matty himself, it’s inexplicable. You look at him, your heart breaks. This could be mine; why isn’t this mine? Because of it, everything Matty does in your presence seems to send a pang of annoyance through your entire body. His words sound pretentious, his actions too big and too loud, the looks he gives you feel calculated and judgmental.

Which is why you’re here, idly lying on the sofa, trying very hard to be mad at him. Trying very hard to hold a grudge against him for more than five minutes. You’re sure it’s all in your head, but you consider for a moment that maybe this is good. It’s either anger or infatuation, and the latter doesn’t seem to be an option. Besides, how else are you supposed to cope with the purgatory of being somewhere between a lover and a one-night stand? If anything, maybe I’ll get a good hate-fuck out of this. It’s a crude thought, but it crosses your mind. 

The movement of Matty’s fingers on his guitar strings evokes memories of previous nights with him, with his hands. His kisses in those moments feel larger than the universe, whisking you away from the side of reality in which he’s not yours. His lips are a prayer that you say every night, over and over, waiting for it to be heard. Agile fingers strum across the guitar. You could swallow him whole, you could tear him to pieces, you could have a life together, you could—

“You’re awfully quiet today.” The music stops.

You hesitate. “Am I?”

Matty just looks at you for a moment, eyebrows raised, big brown eyes boring into yours. His lips part, then close as he chooses his words. “You can tell me if you don’t want to hang out like this. Or if I did something.” He doesn’t say it like an accusation, or like he blames you; he just sounds sad, and you can hear the silent question: Is this how things have to be between us? 

That’s all it takes for your eyes to begin welling up. “You didn’t do something,” you tell him, and really, you mean it. “It’s just…” The words weigh heavy on your tongue. “Matty, I don’t want to do this anymore.” You quickly flick your eyes back to his to gauge his reaction. “I can’t just blur the lines of whatever the fuck we are together and feel totally okay.” 

He stands up and moves to sit next to you. Matty takes your hand in his, calloused fingers swallowing you. You’re small here, and his touch makes you want to cry out for him. He could kiss away the hell he brought. Any other day and he would be making his way down your neck, soft touches to ease your aches. “How could I not want you?” he would tell you. His love would wash over you like an orgasm; it’s the only way he would ever say it.

None of that happens today, though. All of a sudden you realize the hand that’s holding yours is trembling. The words don’t come to Matty’s lips. The deafening silence plagues you with guilt. What the fuck am I doing? you ask yourself. And then Matty says it. “You know we can’t be together.”

It was a long time coming. “I know.” But you don’t really know, you were never given an explanation. It’s okay to be friends, to fuck, to give yourselves to each other, but for some unspoken reason a relationship was off the table.

“I think I’m in love with you,” he says. “But I don’t know how to be with you right now. I want to be good to you.”

You are good to me, you almost scream. You are so good to me. “We could just try,” you say. You hear the weakness in your voice. You want to wretch.

“I would hurt you.”

“I don’t care.”

“You do. You will.”

Matty is right and you so desperately wish he wasn’t. How easy it would be to hate him rather than let go of him. He could ruin you and you could despise him and there would be satisfaction. But all you have left now are questions. “Are we still friends?” The question sounds small and childish as you say it.

“I think so, yeah.” His voice shakes, but refuses to give. It makes you want to hold his head in your hands and press kisses to his cheeks until all is well. Remind him of love and how simple it can be.

You don’t know where to go from here. Matty’s guitar lays forgotten on the other side of the room as you sit together, silent. The next words uttered may be the last ones – what are you supposed to do with that?

Something inside you vows to never speak again.

Matty’s hand still holds yours, resting together atop his leg. Despite it all, you remain intertwined. You pray that this means something. Somewhere in the room, you find the courage to ask Matty what your heart has been aching to know. “Do you think we could fall in love again? Later, I mean.”

He gives you a soft smile, a sad one. “I like to think we could.”

[astaroth1357]

How the Brothers Would Try to Corrupt MC w/ Their Sin

I have a headcanon that it's part of demonic nature to try and corrupt humans. Though I think it would be unlikely that the brothers would try to intentionally corrupt MC post-pact, it's still like second nature to them. That means they may try to unintentionally, uh… infect their soul with sin and drag them down into eternal damnation! They don't mean it, but be careful MCs of the world.

Lucifer

One of the hardest things to do can be to make others take pride in themselves… but Lucifer is always ready for a challenge.

The name of the game is praise. The human mind can be easy to manipulate so with enough praise even the most stubborn human will start to believe a drop of their own hype.

Building up pride is a steady thing... He'll usually pick a strength or talent of the MC to give high praise. Perhaps they sing beautifully or they're rather clever, don't worry. He'd let them know.

Light sprinkles of praise steadily increase their self-esteem, which may seem nice and almost healthy at first, but in truth he's laying a trap… He knows how effective his words can be and he's just waiting for them to go to the MC's head.

You think then he would be done right? Oh no. That's not the fun part. What's fun is to then offend that pride he's spent so long building.

He thinks it's cute, really. A small comment here or a little condensation there and they'll get so mad. It's just so amusing!

Of course, he can't take what he dishes, so they'll need to watch out. But don't worry he loves them, even if they're just a little too fun to play with…

Mammon

Since when does the Avatar of Greed give gifts?

Really, that should be the MC's first red flag. Mammon isn't known for generosity, so when he's spending what little money he can hold onto on them, it's time to raise some eyebrows.

It may seem nice, almost sweet, when he manages to track down a rare vintage of wine for them or take them out to a ritzy restaurant for the night but unfortunately it's all just part of the plan…

Nobody has tastes higher than Mammon. He can't afford them most of the time, which leads to compromises, but given all the Grim in the world he'd be living in the lap of luxury - which is exactly the kind of lifestyle he wants the MC to crave too.

Anyone, no matter how modest, can give into temptation. How easy would it be to taste the sweetest wine or enjoy the most wonderful trip then want to do it again? It may seem innocent at first, but piling on the finer things can soon have the MC craving for them when they pass.

Then all Mammon needs is to make little promises, "If I make it big this time, then we'll go to France!" or, "If I win this next hand then I'll buy ya another glass." 

So how many times will the MC give Mammon a pass, then? Will they stop questioning how he comes up with his cash? Will they let him gamble just that "little bit" longer? Will they even join him...?

If they keep getting that taste of luxury, then maybe it's not so bad… right?

Leviathan 

You think the easiest way to get the MC jealous would be to flirt with other people since that's how most people go about it but, uh… 

This is Levi we're talking about. Casual flirting is pretty much out of the question.

So what is a demon to do to get their hapless human jealous? The answer is, be patient.

No one's perfect, humans especially! They'll slip up eventually… 

Maybe someone from back home just got a new car or they're sending out marriage invites. 

Maybe they have a friend who's better than them at school or sports or there's just someone who has something they want: Money, talent, looks, followers, friends, you name it. When they see it, he can feel that envy creeping in…

From there, all he has to do is feed it. Let the world poke at their little insecurities for him while he plays the supportive boyfriend!

"Did Mammon really get the promotion? I thought it would have been you! That's so unfair..."

"Satan beat your scores again? What is this, the third time? Doesn't that suck?"

Small little comments… but all with a goal to fill the MC with toxicity...

"Are Asmo videos still doing better than yours? I think I know how to drop his numbers... if you want."

And soon enough, anyone can be an enemy. Everyone has it better than them… so they push the world away in order to feel better. And they become so toxic, the world rejects them in turn...

Except, of course, for their loving boyfriend, Levi.

Satan

If you want to keep someone mad, it's best if you're not the actual one doing it.

I know, it sounds counterintuitive, but turning yourself into the enemy risks the target cutting you out. Satan knows this, so he'll never enrage the MC directly...

But indirectly? There's a start.

Everybody has little pet peevs. Tiny things that aren't important, but dig under the skin nonetheless.

Breadcrumbs in the butter, gum-smacking, toe-tapping, tones of voice, or just little annoying inconveniences that can sour one's day...

Satan is well-versed in these tiny annoyances, he'd dare say they're in his domain. And, perspective that he is, he'll know what frustrates the MC soon enough.

Then it's just a matter of execution.

Maybe he jacks with their toothpaste tube or "conveniently" forgets where they put their books... Or they keep mysteriously finding fingerprints on their game disks or seemingly can't keep their room organized to save their life!

It may just seem like the world hates them... but really it's just their demonic lover.

These tiny details and little mishaps will just build and build like cracks in their foundation until it all breaks and comes crashing down… and he'll be right there egging on every moment of it!

Asmodeus 

You would think that Asmo would have the easiest time tempting the MC into his sin, but that's not so.

Sure, most traditional definitions of Lust begin and end at carnal desire, but what about those MCs who maybe aren't so drawn to the sins of the flesh? Fear not! Because the keyword for Asmo is desire.

Really, Asmo is happy if the MC's mind is full of nothing but him. He wants them to desire him, to love him obviously, but to the point of obsession. His heated kisses and sensual whispers are only means to that end, which can change whenever he needs.

The MC will have their life bombarded by their beautiful demon. It's not an unwelcome smothering, he's among the best boyfriends they could ever hope to have, which is exactly why he’s so effective!

He wants them to need him at every moment. Soon it will feel weird to go places alone without their demon… Certain things they could do themselves, like their hair or getting dressed, they'll want him to do instead.

Of course, if he's able then he'll certainly seduce them as well and at every chance he gets! From the House to RAD and even in the throne room - he's shameless!... But that's the fun, isn't it?

Beelzebub 

Oh Beel… He's probably the most dangerous one of them all. Not because he's so demonic, but because he's so sweet!

When Beel makes food for the MC or orders them an extra side, he does so with love. He just wants them to be full! ...or so he thinks.

Beel's demonic instincts creep up on even him, he's just not one to really question what or why he does things sometimes. He'll know he has the urge to see the MC eat or just be indulgent… but he won’t know why.

You could actually say it works to his advantage. Whenever he offers the MC another turkey leg or a few more bites of cake, his tenderhearted insistence is often so sweet that they'll just go along with it and try to keep eating… even if they're already full.

Now, the human body can only take so much food at once, but over time it can adapt to changing habits.

Eventually, the MC will find their appetite expanding to catch up… They'll stop feeling full as easily as they used to and soon the bigger portions that Beel gives them will be all but a necessity!

Of course, the worst case scenario is that this doesn't happen at all and they do serious harm to their health by always pushing past their limits… but there's no guarantee Beel's solution won't just be more food anyway.

Belphegor 

Belphie is the only brother who will knowingly (and gleefully) try to make the MC as sinful as he is!

It's all for selfish reasons. If the MC is slothful, then they'll want to go out less and (probably) spend time with him more. Win-win if you're Belphie.

Since he's well aware of what he's doing, he's pretty damn effective at it. No other brother will be as committed to meddling with the MC as he is.

He'll convince them to cancel plans or sabotage their alarms so they oversleep. He'll suddenly be unable to sleep without them while his naps seemingly get longer and longer… And if they have something to do, he'll be the voice in their ear saying it can wait!

Really, at any opportunity he can get Belphie will try to drag them down or slow their progress with the sweet, sweet promise of relaxation or a good time...

Sure, it may sound nice at the time - great even! - but it won't take long for their promises to break or deadlines to pile up… Sure, the MC could try to catch up but wouldn't that be too much work? Wouldn't they rather rest instead? Why even worry about it?

It's a seductive line of thought and Belphie sells it well, it'd take only the most motivated MC to resist his charms but like that'd stop him. If he wants the MC for himself, he'll happily put their life on hold to do so. Just go with it... yeah?

[tetsunormous]

Reencounters

pairing: Matsukawa Issei x f!reader

genre: college au, friends to lovers, smut (18+), fluff

word count: 6.5K

warnings: cunnilingus, fingering, vaginal penetration, unprotected sex, creampie, swearing, nipple play, pinning

A/N: This is for Ria's @bakugohoex's rich boy collab 💜 Congrat's on 3k!! thank you to @ohno-otome and @armins-futon for reading this for me. I love matsukawa but I don't write for him often so this has been really fun :)

Walking into your new dorm room, you weren’t sure what to expect. Sure, you’ve seen the pictures online, but there’s nothing like the slightly dusty window letting in a hazy ray of light shining down onto the slight dip in the middle of the mattress you now call your own. Your desk almost touched the corner of your twin-sized bed, and your new bookshelf barely has enough room to fit half of the books you brought, but this was your new life. It didn’t dawn on you just how different university would be until you arrived this morning, but here you were, unpacking all your clothes into the cramped closet in the corner. Luckily, you’re in the building where you had a single room. Privacy was something you were worried about, and the communal washrooms will be something to get used to, but either way, this was a new start, and no matter how nervous you are, you’re grateful for it.

High school wasn’t terrible, but it definitely wasn’t what you expected it to be. Going into it, you obviously knew that it would be nothing like how the movies depicted, but you were excited. How bad could those four years really be if you had your best friend right by your side? He was incredible. He understood you better than anybody else, would be able to tell how you were feeling without the exchange of words, but most of all, he was your person, and you were his.

There was no doubting that in all your years of friendship.

But alas, like all good things in life, they must come to an end.

The summer going into the twelfth grade, he was longer your best friend. The boy that would go to the farmers market with you and your mom every other Sunday was now lining up for the newest sneaker drop. The boy that would rather spend the night at home and binge-watch your shared comfort show for the seventh time is now out with the boys sneaking into shisha bars and doing donuts in the community centre parking lots with their new cars. You watched as he slowly forgot about you, getting caught up in his new friendships and obsessing over material items that he never cared about before. It’s not that you were upset he found new friends. It’s that the only time he would reach out was to randomly drop off something he had bought you in hopes it would make up for him blowing you off again.

They started small, simple sweaters he knew you would like, but the gifts became almost ridiculous as time passed. He would never let you return them either, so now you have designer shoes for imaginary banquets. Of course, you were always grateful, but you would trade all his gifts just to spend time with him again. His family has always been wealthy, they always went on lavish vacations and drove the nicest cars, but you never really cared about what he spends his money on or just how much his parents make. You cared that he saw you as a person he wanted to be with rather than just someone he could shove gifts towards to make up for the quality time he’d miss.

But now you’re here. You were arriving three hours before the suggested move-in time because you didn’t want to be rushed to unpack before orientation starts later. You’ve seen a few people walking around on your floor, but neither of your neighbours have arrived, and honestly, you don’t mind because that means you’re able to blast your music without worry. As The 1975 fills your room, you stand still for a second, really taking in where you are. You’re now attending one of the best schools in the country, living on your own with a floor of people you don’t know yet. It starts to sink in that you are starting anew. The people who end up in the rooms next to you might just end up being your lifelong friends. As the song comes to an end, you decide it’s time to try to make yourself look a little more presentable since it’s almost time for people to start rolling in.

...

It’s almost five in the afternoon, and everyone on your floor is meeting outside on the field for a quick introduction before group dinner. You’re sitting with your knees pressed to your chest as the girl next to you tries to make small talk. To be fair, she’s incredibly sweet, but you can’t focus on her because somewhere behind you, there is a voice you think you recognize. There’s no way he would be here. Sure, you have no idea what school he ended up choosing, but if he ended up here, he would’ve at least texted you. Right? Before you can confirm your suspicions, orientation starts, and your group leader is already talking with more energy than you can handle.

The group of guys settle down close by, and you can’t stop yourself from looking over, wondering if you’ll see the head of brown curls. Instead, you’re met with a bunch of frat boy looking wannabes that instantly make your eyes roll. To say you’re disappointed that you didn’t see him was so stupid. It’s been over a year, yet here you were, hoping to magically bump into him as if this was some cliche movie. If anything, it’s frustrating. It’s frustrating that even though he stopped caring for you, you still longed to see him, to hear him laugh at one of your cheesy jokes. It’s even more frustrating that this new start you’ve been looking forward to, makes you miss him even more.

There are only sixteen people on your floor, but introductions take a lifetime because someone didn’t come on time. When they finally do show up, you almost laugh at this whole situation because, of course, it was him. Of course, he was strutting down the courtyard in some brand new Gucci sneakers and the same Balenciaga sweater he had bought for you a few months ago. Of course, the annoying group of boys behind you gesture for him as he quickly apologizes to the group leaders. And, of course, when you make eye contact, he’s the one looking at you with a mixture of shock and annoyance.

Quickly rushing back to your room after the meeting, you decide you’re ordering in tonight so that you don’t have to see him for at least another day. This is all so fucked up. You wrack your brain trying to understand how probable this whole situation is because, frankly, it feels like a sick joke, and on top of it, he’s the one annoyed?

Naturally, you spend the rest of the night unpacking the rest of your things before ordering your comfort food to wash down all the feelings you’re experiencing. Putting on your favourite show, you begin your tenth rerun as you bury yourself in your blankets. Part of you feels so stupid for completely ignoring your initial dinner plans, but you knew with the mindset you had at the moment, there was no way you would have enjoyed yourself. It’s a bit silly you haven’t left your room since picking up your takeout, you don’t even know who lives beside you, but that’s a problem for tomorrow.

Slipping into your slides, you head towards the washroom with your little toiletry bag. You pass by the girl you were sitting with earlier, and she sends you a smile. After apologizing for disappearing all night she just laughs and assures you nothing happened. She even points out where her room is if you were up to hang out tomorrow during frosh activities.

Just this interaction makes you feel better, and you quietly hum along to the familiar tune coming from the shower stall.

He used to play this song all the time, claiming it spoke to him the first time he heard it. Since then, it became the song he would play anytime he’d come to pick you up, explaining how this song is special because the ending always reminded him of you. It didn’t matter how long it’s been since the two of you hung out. Every time you heard ‘Pluto Projector,’ it would always bring a smile to your face. You even tried to show the song to your ex-boyfriend, but he never paid attention to your suggestions. He always claimed that his music taste was better. Thankfully that relationship only lasted a couple of months, but still, the regret of not waiting for someone worthy lingers in your mind.

While applying your moisturizer, you hear the water shut, the person pausing the song right as the orchestra starts to come in. Worried about who you may run into, you quickly pack up your stuff. You hear the click of the lock, and as you turn around, you’re met with him, with his curly hair all damp and his obnoxious teal blue robe wrapped loosely around his waist.

Rushing past him, you briskly walk towards your room, but before you can close the door, his foot jams between the doorframe. He pushes his way in and quietly closes the door, only to be met with the unimpressed look on your face. He circles around your room, eyes searching for any trace of your past friendship before standing back at the door.

“What do you want, Matsukawa?” you ask impatiently. It’s bad enough you run into the one person you wanted to forget, but now he’s standing in your room with a matching frown.

Something indescribable flashes across his eyes, and you can visibly see his frown deepen at your question. Leaning against your door, his arms come up to rub over his face, peeking at you through his fingers before letting out a long sigh. “When did I become Matsukawa? I thought I was Issei.”

You can’t help the chuckle that escapes your lips, and you realize how childish your grudge might be, but he has changed, and the man standing in front of you isn’t the same man you once called your best friend. “When you changed, Matsukawa. Issei was my best friend, and YOU are not.”

His eyes filled with confusion as his eyebrows furrow, taking a step forward towards you. “I’m sorry? I tried to stay in touch with you. You’re the one that stopped talking to me, so I’d try to send you things instead. How was I the one who changed?”

You stand there, staring at him for a second before shaking your head. “I can’t do this right now; I want to have a good day tomorrow, so I need to go to sleep. Please, leave my room.”

His eyes soften a little, and you can see a faint glimpse of his infamous lazy smile, “We both know you’re not going to be sleeping anytime soon,” he stalks over and kicks his slides off before sitting at the end of your bed. “Let’s talk about this because, frankly, I’m tired of watching you decide if you hate me every time you see me.”

The nerve of this man. The fact that he invites himself into your room, declares his stay, and then sits on your bed without permission. You don’t even know if he’s wearing anything under that robe as his hair is literally dripping onto your comforter. Regardless of what the situation is, this action alone has you seething. Turning towards your desk chair, you harshly pull out the slightly imbalanced piece of wood and sit down, silently questioning why he isn’t the one on the chair.

He watches you stomp around, and he kinda chuckles at your little tantrum, missing how easy it was to rile you up. Your glare at him would be a little scary if he didn’t see the way your lips mumbled to yourself. It’s honestly a little cute to watch you all frustrated with him even though he saw one of the shoes he bought you in your closet. Sure, they look brand new, but the fact that you brought them here with you must mean something.

The year you two spent apart has been really stressful on Matsukawa. He thought that you’d be happy that he could give you everything you wanted. He knew he wasn’t spending as much time with you as he used to, but he thought the gifts he spent hours lining up for would make up for it.

When you stopped returning his calls and texts, he was crushed. Everyone could see how he felt about you, but then he watched you get close to another man. Within two weeks, you were dating him, and he was left watching from a distance. Neither of you ever confirmed your feelings for each other, but he could tell that man wasn’t making you happy. He didn’t understand your different facial expressions, he didn’t care about what you had to say, but all he could do was watch the girl he wanted from the sidelines.

Sure, as time went on, Matsukawa also started talking to other girls. None of them ever became his girlfriend, he didn’t think it was fair to get with someone when he was set on you, but he had his fair share of hookups. He has money, a shit ton of it, but he never let that get to his head. It wasn’t his fault that he gained popularity when he started to get into name brands and upgraded his car, but none of that ever changed who he was — at least not to the degree you had him pinned.

He watches you carefully, your leg bouncing impatiently as your eyes glare daggers in his direction. He runs his hand through his hair and lets out a sigh, “what did I do wrong? You didn’t even give me a chance to fix whatever I did (y/n).”

The lamp in the corner of your room shines a dim yellow hue onto his features. His brows are knitted in concern as he leans forwards on his knees, his robe showing off a deep v down his chest. You can feel yourself freeze up at his question, goosebumps covering your skin, while your eyes pour into his. “You changed Matsukawa. You stopped making an effort to be there. I’m not some girl you can just buy with all your money. I have never cared about how much you have or what you can afford -- you know that! It doesn’t matter what. I always split things with you because I never wanted you to feel like I was there for your money. But then suddenly, you just stop showing up. You wouldn’t even tell me you made other plans, and I would just open my door to find some package you dropped off.”

His eyes search your face before letting out a deep sigh. “I tried! You wouldn’t answer any of my calls, I know I stopped explaining myself, but can you blame me? Don’t you think I want to take you around and introduce you to all my friends? Don’t you think I miss going on late-night drives with you to 7-11? Every time I would drive past there, you’re all I thought about. You and your stupid obsession with cheese taquitos and Arizona tea. Did you even think about how I felt when you decided to act like I don’t exist?” He hastily stands up and paces around in the confined space of your dorm room. He never raises his voice, so hearing him talk at a slightly louder volume was enough to let you know he was dead serious. “You know, I never stopped talking highly about you because as selfish as it is, those boys have an important family. They have the connections you dream about (y/n), so even when you started to ignore me to go out with that fucking ex-boyfriend of yours, I never said anything.”

He looks at you with pleading eyes before going to sit back down, his elbows now resting against his thighs. “I know you don’t care about my money, but I didn’t know how else to tell you I was still thinking about you. I tried to get you things that you’d like, things that you’d wear. But no, I had to watch you put on a fake smile and laugh at that asshole’s jokes while you stubbornly ignored me to the point I thought you had me blocked.”

Looking up at you through his curls, his hooded eyes looked darker before. His lips curled into a forced smile as he let out a breathy chuckle, “he didn’t deserve you. But what do I know, right?”

You sat there quietly, taking in what he had just said. You didn’t realize how hurt he was. To be frank, up till now, you were so consumed by your feelings, and you failed to consider his own. His head is hanging between his hands, and the silence in your room right now is insufferable. He’s just explained himself, yet all you can do is scoff at yourself. While you were obsessing over the fact that Matsukawa wasn’t coming over to watch another rerun of your favourite show, he was out picking out different gifts he thought you’d like. You didn’t even open the last few because your own emotions so blinded you. Hearing him take a deep breath, he stands up and smiles sadly at you, “nice talk, (y/n). Thanks for listening.”

“I’m sorry, Issei.”

He lifts his head to meet your gaze, and you can visibly watch as his shoulders relax. It’s been too long since he’s heard you call him by his first name.

“I’m sorry too. I should’ve just gotten out of the car to talk to you.”

You look at him with a small smile. Walking towards your bed, you sit down and pat the spot beside you, pulling him in for a hug. His robe is probably the softest thing you’ve ever felt in your life, your fingers sinking into the fabric as you hold him close. His arms are immediately wrapping around you, and you both stay like that for a minute before you pull back, a faint blush blooming on your cheeks.

“No, you have nothing to apologize for. You tried reaching out to me, you tried explaining yourself, but I didn’t even give you a chance. I’m sorry. I can’t believe I was so caught up I didn’t even think about what you were feeling. The fact that you still wanted to introduce me to your friends, even after all the stuff I did to you….I’m so sorry, Issei.”

He gives you a playful smile and lightly nudges your shoulder with his, “yea, that was kinda unfair, but good thing we talked it out, huh?”

You flash him a sheepish smile, but your eyes glimmer with happiness, “yea, it’s good you barged into my room at two in the morning. Just like old times.”

His smile instantly grows at your playfulness, and he gives you a mock scoff. “I’m sorry, but if I remember correctly, you’d beg for me to stay over at two am cause you decided you wanted to watch a scary movie. Have you gotten better with horror movies this year, or are you still as jumpy as I remember?”

The tip of your ears growing warm while you mutter out a quick “shut up.”

His laughter makes your heart beat against your chest because you missed it so much. It’s been a while since you got to hear him laugh with you, and without even thinking, you go in for another hug.

His arms easily hold you close, and one of his massive hands reaches up to pet your hair. “Missed me, didn’t you?” he asks, and you can feel him smirking, so you just nod, your fingers playing with the damp, short curls at the base of his nape.

“Issei?” you ask with a little murmur against his neck.

“Hmmm?”

You smile to yourself and pull back a little, so you can see his face, “so other than hanging out with your friends and keeping up with my relationship, what else have you been doing?”

His face drops as he looks at you with a deadpan stare, the corners of his mouth twitching up in a smile as you giggle at his reaction. He pushes you back, so you end up falling onto your mattress, his long limbs effortlessly straddling your legs. Before you can think about the position you’re in, his fingers start to poke all-around your torso, causing you both to laugh as he starts to tickle you. “You think you’re funny, huh?” His hands go to tickle your worst spot as he starts to talk, but you can’t hear him over your own laughter. His fingers slow down, but you keep giggling when you’re met with his lazy smirk, “I’m trying to talk, you know. It’s rude you’re laughing when I’m trying to speak to you.”

He leans forwards and has both hands resting at the side of your head. Your faces now inches apart, the faint smell of sandalwood from his body wash now becoming more apparent. You stare into his brown eyes, and it almost feels as if everything stopped for a few seconds. The lamp in your room doesn’t do him justice as the shadows of his face wash over his features, but even then, his eyes stare back at you with a slight twinkle as you catch your breath.

Reaching up to wrap your arms around his neck and you tug him close, crashing his lips onto yours. The sweet hints from his beloved Burt’s bee’s lip balm make his lips even softer than you imagined. The kiss is short, but as you both pull away, he’s staring at you with a goofy smile.

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do that, (y/n).”

“Me too, Issei,” you whisper back before his lips capture yours again, this time with more confidence. This kiss is much more passionate than the last, holding onto each other in hopes of deepening it. One of his hands travels down to grab your waist, his tongue sweeping across your bottom lip, asking for permission. Your lips part and your tongues swirl together effortlessly while your hands play with his hair, pulling him closer into your body.

His hand feels a little rougher than before against your bare skin because of how often he trains, running down the length of your leg. The light touch of his fingertips admires how smooth your skin is before they trail back up, stopping just before the edge of your pyjama shorts. Hooking your leg around his hip, he leans into your body even further and even nips at your bottom lip.

Matsukawa smirks and whispers against your lips, “did he ever kiss you like that?”

Slightly surprised at the question, you shake your head, answering honestly. “He never made me feel the way you do.”

You watch as his eyes dilate, flickering into a deep brown you’ve never seen on him. The hand that was previously on your leg is now cupping your cheek, stroking your face softly, while his own face blooms into a rare shade of pink. Still, his words are clear, “please...give me a chance? He never treated you right. Let me take care of you?”

Words can’t describe how his question made you feel. You spent years learning about Matsukawa, understanding him to the point where words weren’t necessary to see what was happening in his head. Not once did you think he reciprocated your feelings, let alone want to be with you. Yet, here you are, caged beneath his arms as his hopeful eyes pour into yours.

Turning your head slightly, you press a kiss onto his hand and smile. “Please?”

His face breaks into a smile. His cheeks are tinted rose as the corners of his mouth reach up to his eyes. Leaning down, he peppers kisses onto your face, the loose curls on his head tickling your cheeks as he giggles with you. The kisses trail down to your jaw, and he follows the natural curve of your jawline to your ear. “Is this okay?” he whispers softly, only continuing down this path when you give him a curt nod.

Your legs tighten around his waist when he begins to press open mouth kisses down your neck, gently nipping at the spots that make you let out shy little sounds. His tongue leaves kitten licks against your skin after he’s sucked on it, littering faint marks. Seeing you with light hickeys on the base of your neck and collarbones is completely self-indulgent for him. Thinking about waking up in the morning and seeing the marks he knows he gave you makes him inexplicably happy as he sucks particularly hard, causing you to wince.

Immediately he stops and turns to you, “I’m sorry, did I hurt you? D’you wanna stop?”

His concern for you is truly a breath of fresh air compared to what you had before. Shaking your head, you guide his hands to the edge of your sweater. “You bought this for me… it’s only fair I let you take it off.”

He studies your face for a second before his lips curl into a lazy smirk, quickly pulling the overpriced sweater off your body. He takes a sharp inhale when you reveal you aren’t wearing anything underneath as he’s met with your beautiful tits, nipples hard and pointed. “You let me in here knowing you weren’t wearing a bra? And here I thought you were a good girl.”

Noticing how your legs tighten around him, he smirks even wider. Leaning back down, his kisses trail down to your chest, and his lips feel soft and warm against your skin. His fingers take hold of your chin and force you to look down on him while his lips wrap around your nipple, the tip of his tongue flicking gently at the hardened bud. His hand palms against the fatty flesh of your other tit; his fingers are rolling your nipple before tugging on it experimentally.

Suddenly feeling shy, your arms come up to cover your face slightly just to have him lace his fingers with yours, pulling your arms away. “Don’t hide from me. Let me see how pretty you look. Let me hear how good I make you feel, okay?”

“I’ve never had someone play with my tits like this…”

He just stares at you, brows knitted as his smirk turns into a slight pout. “You’re with me now; that means every part of your body will be pleasured. I wanna hear and see all of you, okay?”

With a shy nod, you gently roll your hips against him, inviting more of his attention.

He kisses you once more, murmuring against your lips, “you’re so beautiful. Let me know if I’m going too fast, okay?”

His lips follow down your body once more, lightly biting your tit before using the flat part of his tongue to feel the valley between your chest. Matsukawa lets out a low moan as you arch upwards, pushing yourself closer to his touches. Letting go of your hands, he begins to massage the soft flesh of your tits and kiss down your stomach, the tip of his tongue trailing against the waistband of your shorts.

“Let me hear you ask for it; I don’t wanna do something you don’t want.”

“Isseiiii, please?” you whine out, the tip of your ears turning hot at the thought of asking for his tongue.

He smirks at you, looking up through his hooded eyes and tsks. “Be a good girl for me. Use your words.”

His words go straight to your pussy, and you can’t help the doe eyes look in your eyes when you whimper out, “please, Issei? Wanna feel your mouth on me.”

You watch as he takes in a sharp breath, the hunger in his eyes shining through despite the dim lighting in your room. He tugs at the end of your shorts until they’re completely off, repositioning himself lower until your legs are resting around his biceps. His eyes zone in on the way a sheer layer of slick coats your lips, happy that the attention he’s been giving you has pleased you. As he shimmies down on your bed, his legs now supporting himself on the floor, he nestles himself between your legs, easily spreading your things open with his arms. Sending you a knowing smile, he blows cool air directly onto your clit, loving how your walls flutter for him.

“You’re so sensitive, baby.”

“No one’s ever made me feel like this before...want more, please?”

You look down at him with pleading eyes, your hands cupping his face when you speak. Pressing a quick peck to your hand, he hips his head down and traces your pussy lips with his tongue, savouring how you taste.

The gasp that you let out once you felt his touch was adorable. It suddenly became the sound Matsukawa will chase after the more he gets to know your body and what it likes. He takes one long lap up your pussy, stopping just before your clit and using his fingers, he spreads your lips even more. Once your clit is all exposed, he flicks it gently with the tip of his tongue, looking up at you with all the confidence in the world. Hearing your little moans make him greedy for more, for more desperate and needy sounds, so he goes to press a kiss onto your bundle of nerves. Feeling you twitch beneath him, he gently places his lips around the sensitive bud and sucks earnestly, relishing in the way you buck your hips and call out his name. After a while of pure clitoral stimulation, he leans back up to watch your eyes blink back into focus on his face, a silly dazed smile on your face.

He winks at you and sticks his tongue into your drooling hole, swirling it around to feel the walls of your pussy clench around him. His fingers dig into the flesh of your thighs as he nuzzles his nose against your clit, his cock getting unbearably hard at the way you pant our pleas.

“I-issei! Please….need you inside, please!”

Coming back up for air, his hand leaves your thigh as his fingers start to tease around your hole, loving how your pussy clenches around nothing. So needy for his touches when he’s barely even started. He knows your orgasm was building, but he wants to take his time with you. You mean the world to him, and seeing you like this already makes him feel like the luckiest man at the moment.

Taking two of his fingers, he coats them in all your slick before slowly pushing them inside you. His eyes squeeze shut when he feels how tight you are, his mind immediately thinking about how you’d feel wrapped around his cock. When he’s finally inside, he pulls out slowly before sliding them back in, loving how you beg for more.

“Need more, please, Issei! Go faster, please.”

Your hands pull his head up to kiss you while his fingers begin to speed up. With the lewd sound of his hand slapping against your sopping wet pussy, his palm is applying pressure to your clit. Your moans are lost in your kisses, his other hand going back to playing with your sensitive nipple.

“I have to stretch you out, babygirl. I don’t want my cock to hurt you.”

All you’re able to do is nod as his fingers start to scissor your hole, stretching you out even more. His fingers, now knuckle deep, curl against your sweet spot, making you grip onto his hair as he swallows all your cries, suddenly remembering that the walls in this dorm probably aren’t that thick.

His fingers curl into you more, whispering sweet praises as his hand teases and tugs on your swollen nipple. Everything happened so quick, and you’re cumming all over his hand, your sweet sticky arousal covering his fingers as he slows down. Matsukawa is smiling down at you, “you did so well, baby. Bet that felt really good, huh?”

Maybe you’re needy or just horny, but even after your orgasm, you start tugging the tie that keeps his robe up. Your legs are sore, sorer than they’ve ever been, but all you can think about is how full you would feel with him inside of you. He smirks at you as he pops his fingers into his mouth, sucking off all your juices before letting his robe fall and chucking it to the ground. He’s wearing his briefs, but you can see how hard his cock is under the thin cotton material. Before you’re able to pull his underwear down, he stops you and lets out a small chuckle. “I’m sorry, I don’t have a condom. We don’t have to do anything.”

You giggle and shake your head, “don’t need one; we’re in university, baby. What’s a little fun without risks?”

He lets you pull his underwear down, and his massive throbbing cock instantly slaps against his stomach as he laughs at your reaction. “Had to make sure you were stretched out enough.”

You bite your lips and stare at how big his cock actually is. It’s hard to imagine how you’ll fit that inside of you, but you’re determined to give it a try.

“You ready, pretty girl?” he asks as he taps the tip of cock against your clit, loving how you squirm under him.

“mmhmm, Issei.”

He lets go of his cock and leans up, and pulls you into a deep kiss, completely in awe of you.

“Tell me if you wanna stop, kay?”

Replying with a small hum, he gathers up the remaining slick that’s leaking out of your pussy and strokes his cock slowly, also letting his spit drip down to help lubricate himself. He lines himself up with your pretty pussy and starts to push the head in, studying your face to make sure you’re doing alright. When he sees you smiling back at him, despite the grip you have on his arms, he pushes another two inches inside of you.

“You’re doing so good for me, baby. We’re almost halfway,” he whispers into your ear as he kisses your neck softly, sucking on the spot by the base of your lobe. “Such a good girl for me,” he coaxes as his cock slides another inch into your sweet cunt.

Incredibly, he’s only halfway down because you’ve never felt this full before. Still, your fingers dig into his arms when you ask for more. “Just want all of you in me, please?”

Hearing you ask for more even though you already looked fucked out sparks something inside him. He lets out a low growl and quickly pushes the rest of his length inside you, mumbling sweet nothings against your skin. He moans out with you when he feels how warm and tight you are, your pussy stretching more than it ever has to accommodate his size.

“Feel s’good, Issei.”

With a breathy chuckle, he peppers kisses all over your neck, loving the sound of your soft giggles as he pulls back three-quarters of the way, slowly pushing his way back into you. The gasp you let out is different than before, much more surprised but sensual.

He continues this motion a few more times before he picks up the pace, his hips slamming against you while your tits bounce. Each thrust knocks the air out of your chest cause he’s brushing against your spot every time. Matsukawa leans down and presses his forehead against the crook of your neck, muttering how good you feel.

“F-faster...need you faster, is’o good, please.”

Obliging to your pleas, he starts to rut his hips into yours, the sound of his balls slapping against your skin with each movement. He looks up to see your dreamy eyes and smiles. He knows there’s not a thought behind those eyes right now as his cock slams against your walls with each thrust. He goes to kiss you again, silencing your cries as your nails drag down his arms, trying to ground yourself in the midst of all the pleasure.

“You’re s-tight baby I- fuuuuuck, I can barely move.”

You can’t help it. Your walls are naturally squeezing him because he’s fucking straight into your sweet spot with each snap of his hips. You look at him with hazy eyes, entirely in a trance as you moan out his name. He can tell you want to cum, so his hand reaches down to rub your clit as his cock continues to pound into you.

“C’mon baby, cum all over my cock. You can do it...ah shit, yea, just like that.”

He’s been trying so hard not to cum but watching your back arch into him as your nails drab down his back, his name falling out from your lips in a loud erotic moan, is making it really hard. He looks down in surprise when he sees a creamy white rim around his cock, proud of himself for making you cream.

“Good girl...that’s my fuckin girl.”

Satisfied he made you finish, his head falls back onto your shoulder, his hips just rutting into you as he chases his own orgasm. Not even a minute later, he’s calling out for you as he quickly pulls out, cumming all over your tits. His chest heaves along with yours, his hair sticking to his forehead slightly as he empties his load all over your chest.

Once you’ve both calmed down a little bit, he smiles down at you and goes to stroke your cheek. “Had you creaming on my cock, was it fun? Did you have a good time?”

“S’good...thank you, baby,” you say before pulling him down for a kiss.

He gets up and reaches for his robe, “you did so good, took me like a champ heh. I’ll be back with a rag to clean you up, okay? Don’t move.”

As he leaves your room, you stare up at the ceiling and let out a laugh. Not even twelve hours ago, you were cursing the fact that he was here with you, and now you have his cum all over your tiddies as he goes to get stuff to clean you up.

You watch as he comes back into your room, fully changed with a rag in his hand. He kneels beside you and pets your hair as he starts to wipe his mess.

“Why’re you changed?”

“Oh! We’re going to 7-11 once I get you cleaned up.”

“.....it’s like three-thirty in the morning.”

“I’ll get you taquitos and Arizona,” he says as he goes to wipe around your pussy, mindful not to put too much pressure cause you’re still sensitive.

“And skittles?”

He snorts and kisses your shaking thigh, “yea, I’ll get you skittles, brat.”

© tetsunormous 2021

taglist: @plutowrites @armins-futon @arte-misa @strawbari21 @matsusimp @bokutomessy @mentaly-ill @arumiee @kvrooschibichan lmk if you want to be added to my tag list

[cursestothemoon]

A Cruel Favor

Regulus Black x Fem!Slytherin!Reader

Request: Could I get and angsty and sad blurb with Regulus? Nothing specific in mind, Regulus’ entire life is pretty tragic already- just throwing some strained and kind of heartbreaking romance into that mix sorry i like pain this is how i cope

Summary: Your relationship with the youngest Black brother in the form of memories seen in a pensieve by Sirius Black.

Warnings: Death, sadness, crying, the dark mark, ghosts

Word Count: 3265

Author's Note: babe you asked for a blurb and i just did not listen i am so sorry, if you'd still like a blurb let me know and i'll whip up a little short piece but regardless i hope you enjoy this 😌

“You didn’t know him! You didn’t want to know him!” Your voice bellowed, trembling with the burning anger you held in your heart for the eldest Black brother.

It was true, back when the war was just ‘politics’ and the ‘Dark Lord’ a name whispered behind closed doors, Sirius Black had already made up his mind about his family- Regulus included.

“He was my brother.” Sirius spoke the statement as if just the mere fact of relation was supposed to trump that he hadn't even spoken to his brother in the months prior to his death.

You let out a bitter laugh, “Don’t lie for the sake of saving face, you never saw him as a brother; not then and certainly not now.”

Sirius seemed taken aback by your accusation, his words getting lost on his tongue for a moment before he quickly regained his fiery passion for argument.

“He betrayed me.”

“You were the one who betrayed him!” Your accusatory finger pointed at Sirius.

The eldest Black brother’s features went stoney, “The moment he decided to get that mark, was the moment he lost his name as my brother.”

Everything in the mangey old house seemed to still, a silence falling so powerful you could hear a pin drop. Your slow footsteps were exaggerated in the quiet, each creak ringing in both yours and Sirius’ ears. With a tired hand, you pushed a small pouch onto the surface of the dining room table, the vials inside clinking together softly.

“They’re numbered.” You breathed out. “There is so much you don’t know, Sirius.”

You walked through the door and onto the street hastily, not wasting any time to apparate back home.

Sirius sat down in the nearest chair with a huff, his knees spread as his shoulders slid down the back of the chair. He hadn’t remembered just how far up his brother’s ass you were.

Roughly, he rubbed his face with his palms before lazily reaching for the dark velvet pouch on the table. The emerald green reminded him not only of his brother, but of his entire family, the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. Sirius couldn’t help the groan that left his mouth at the memories of his family that seemed to plague his mind.

Fittingly, Sirius opened the pouch to reveal just that. The silvery, viscous tendrils that floated through each vial were immediately recognized by the pureblood. You had given him your memories...and a letter.

You deserve to know him.

Y/N L/N

Sirius’ curiosity regarding what secrets of his brother’s seemed to be swimming in the vials bubbled over, he was sure 12 Grimmauld Place was harbouring a pensieve somewhere within its walls, he’d just have to get up and find it.

17 October 1974

Barty Crouch Jr. was an insolent child, the type to collect bones and listen to them rattle. He had a nervous tick, his tongue slithering past his lips every so often in a manner that was so serpentine it made your skin prick.

“Come on then, L/N, be a good little girl and do as I say.”

You threw down your quill in frustration, “Bugger off, Crouch. I’ve said no.”

“Don't be like that,” Barty smirked, coming closer to where you were sitting. “It’s only some homework. You were going to do yours anyway, why not get some extra practice in by doing mine too?”

“I’d rather have unforgivables practiced on me than do anything you ask.”

His sickly sweet smile wasn’t one you were expecting, his voice low and threatening, “That can be arranged.”

Your blood ran cold as you watched his nimble fingers move toward his wand pocket in his robes. Truthfully, you should’ve known better. Being in the same house as Barty allowed you the luxury of hearing all the gossip surrounding him and his hobbies, dark magic and curses being at the top of that list.

“Barty.”

The cold baritone made the sandy-haired menace stop in his tracks, his face contorting into an expression of mild annoyance and frustration.

“There’s no need for you to be acting like a child. Quite humiliating asking someone else to do your work, isn’t it, Crouch? Are you too thick to get it done yourself?”

Barty turned to look at his friend, words jumbling as he tried to figure out how to get himself out of the hole he had dug.

“Reg-” The stone-like stare had Barty cowering and mouth snapping shut, the boy seemingly trying to fold in on himself.

With a simple nod of his head, Regulus directed the him to make himself useful elsewhere, but you were far too taken by the handsome boy in front of you to notice the stomping footsteps of Barty’s as he left. Of course you had known of Regulus Black, seen him from afar and even once had Transfiguration with him, but seeing him up close was an experience in and of itself. His skin was ghostly pale, hair dark and wavy as it fell just below his ears, and his cheekbones were high accentuating the slant of his nose. Regulus Black was beautiful, everything about him seemed to be placed just right and sculpted with the utmost care and attention.

He turned to you, your eyes meeting before he gave you an appraising look.

“Regulus.” His hand struck out, a rather rugged introduction.

Slowly, you took his hand in yours and proceeded to shake it. You couldn’t seem to rid yourself of the feeling that your hand was far too dirty, far too boring to be touching his, to even be near his.

“Y/n L/n, thank you- for that.” You were proud of yourself for not allowing your voice to shake.

“I’m sorry he was a bother.”

Regulus seemed to lack the ability of holding a conversation, he nodded- you assumed a goodbye- and got ready to make his way to the dorms.

“Wait,” Your voice came out before you could stop it. “You could stay, I’m almost done anyway. We could...talk.”

The suggestion had the boy's ears turning pink, his words coming out stuttered and jumbled, a stark contrast from the boy who had told off Barty so eloquently.

“If you- alright.”

You thought for a moment before speaking again, “You’re not very good at talking to people are you?”

“Excuse my blatant honesty, but you make me quite nervous.”

It was your turn to have your ears turn a soft hue of red, “I could say the same about you.”

5 April 1975

“Haven’t you got your own side of the blanket? Must you be so close to me?” You giggled, trying to roll away from Regulus while still avoiding the grass.

Regulus smiled, his eyes closing and nose scrunching in thought before he spoke, “I prefer to be close to you; making sure you won’t run out on me.”

Both of you began giggling, his head falling to nudge your shoulder. Ultimately, Regulus shuffled away from your side, allowing just about a foot of space in between your bodies. The wind rustled your hair as you turned your neck to look at the youngest Black as he sat up, his legs stretched and crossed at the ankles, arms propping himself up as his palms pressed flat against the floor.

It was no secret that Regulus was beautiful. His dark hair- now gently flowing in the cool breeze- stood out against his pale skin, freckles were dusted delicately over his aristocratic nose and sharp cheekbones. You could tell he’d never worked a day in his life with how handsome and soft his hands were. His fingers were long and slender, never dry or rough, and his nails perfectly trimmed and always clean.

Regulus Black was absolutely perfect and you were regretting ever complaining about his proximity.

You were quick to right your wrong, bashfully you raised yourself onto all fours and crawled over to your boyfriend. Regulus tried to hold in his smirk, avoiding turning to look at you directly but you could tell his resolve was breaking.

“Regulus…” You spoke his name with an innocent lilt, sitting back on your shins once you were close enough to have your knees touching his thigh.

He hummed, not giving you the satisfaction of having his full attention.

A huff of frustration fell past your lips at his stubbornness as you threw your leg over his thighs, straddling his legs just above his knees. His composure was thinning, a wide smile threatening to spread across his thin lips.

“You’re far too close,” he teased, his hand coming up as if trying to stop you from getting any closer. “I believe you are on my side of the blanket, L/n.”

“Don’t be so fickle, Black.”

Regulus’ pale blue eyes found yours, his delicate hand coming up to run across the delicate collar of your dress.

“It’s in my nature isn’t it?” His eyes held a certain sadness that you could not place, one you wouldn’t see again until a few years later.

Your lips parted to respond to him, only to be interrupted by a Hogwarts ghost floating nearby. It was a ghost neither you nor Regulus were familiar with and as she passed she mumbled something- rather spitefully- about young love. The event had your train of thought derailed, a quiet giggle erupting from your throat as the transparent, deceased woman floated on.

Regulus seemed to find the woman just as amusing as you did, his eyes crinkling with laughter as you two now looked at each other in fits of hysterics.

“Oh her poor soul!” You exclaimed, eyes looking off in the direction she had gone. “If you were a ghost, Reg, where would you haunt with your undead presence.”

His expression contorted into one of reminiscence, “Uncle Alphard’s cherry orchard just a few kilometers from Monts de Venasque. When we were little, Sirius and I would play in the trees. I could sit in those cherry trees for hours, everything just seemed to disappear. Alphard’s been burned off the tapestry since, but he’s left the property in my possession along with the small house on the land. I think if I were to choose one place to spend eternity, it would be there.”

You smiled softly at his answer.

“And you?” He asked, bringing you out of your lovesick haze.

“Me?” You chuckled. “I’d suppose my eternity would be well spent as long as I was somewhere with you.”

28 June 1976

It seemed the entirety of 12 Grimmauld Place shook with how hard Sirius had slammed the front door.

He was gone.

Completely and entirely gone.

And Regulus was completely and entirely alone now.

Regulus swiftly made his way up the stairs and to his room, just barely avoiding a collision with the poor house elf.

“Y/n’s room.” The words were spoken clearly and concisely as the floo powder fell from his shaky hands.

The time of night- 2:27 am- was of little importance to Regulus, he needed to see you.

You woke up with a jolt, the sound of someone stumbling into your room and panicked mumbling doing nothing to ease your nerves though the mop of dark curls had your heart calming down.

“Reg?”

He turned to look at you with heartbroken eyes, watery and bloodshot.

“He’s gone.” He choked out.

You kicked the blankets off yourself and stood up from your bed, bare feet hitting the cold floor.

Keeping a calm tone you slowly got closer to him, “Who’s gone, love?”

His pain was so evident, rolling off him in waves, “Sirius- he’s not coming back.”

“Oh,” You sighed, treading lightly. “I’m sur-”

“No!” He cried, “Burned off the tapestry, probably with the Potters- he’s gone an-and he left me with them.”

Regulus’ anguish, tear stained cheeks, had your own eyes welling with unshed tears. It was clear words would do nothing to calm him, instead you opted for pushing yourself into him and taking his crying form into your arms. His body seemed to give out as you held him, his tears soaking your shirt as he wailed into your neck.

Neither of you could tell how long you stood in the middle of your room seemingly holding him together, but his cries subsided into gentle whimpers and the occasional sniffle as his nose nudged the side of your neck.

His voice came out rough and strained, just barely above a whisper, “Please don’t- don’t leave me like Si- like he did.”

You could feel your heart shatter, “Wouldn’t dream of it, darling.”

“I don’t know how I would’ve survived in this mess if I had never known you.”

Your breath came out ragged as you spoke the truest words you've ever dared to speak, “My heart beats for you, Regulus.”

30 December 1979

His forearm itched.

It seemed to always have an odd itch ever since he was sixteen.

Regulus watched your form get closer, bundled in a thick overcoat and a dark blue scarf- Christmas present from himself- wrapped neatly around your neck. You were the picture of beauty, like a living doll with your soft smile and adoring eyes.

“My love.” You greeted him, leaning in to place a soft kiss against his cold cheek.

His eyes seemed distant, your only greeting a tight lipped smile.

Your eyebrows knit together, “Everything alright?”

Regulus nodded, his eyes swimming with a sadness so familiar, “Just taking you in.”

He pulled off his leather gloves, stuffing them deep in his coat pocket before reaching his hand out to hold your jaw, his thumb running across your skin. The action was comforting and you couldn’t help but close your eyes to savour the feeling of his thumb caressing your cheekbone.

You let out a small gasp when you felt him take your lips in a slow kiss. It was passionate, loving, yet there was a certain finality to it that had a shiver run up your spine in the most unpleasant way.

“I have the cruelest favor to ask of you, and I can only hope you’ll forgive me once I do.”

Your stomach dropped, “What do you mean, Regulus? What- what favor?”

“Please, try to understand-”

“What favor?”

“I couldn’t-”

“Tell me what the favor is, Regulus.”

Your voice had an edge to it that made him compose himself almost instantly.

He took a breath before speaking, his eyes looking off somewhere behind you as he spoke, “He’s getting stronger.”

You didn’t need to ask who this ‘he’ was, the tone made it very clear.

“He has these… horcruxes. Incredibly dark magic, I don't know how many but I know of one. It’s hidden and I’ve found out the location, I can destroy it I know I can but-”

His tone was hushed and your heart rate had started to pick up speed.

“But you don’t know if you’ll live to tell the tale?” You asked with a humorless laugh.

The look in Regulus’ eyes had told you, you were right.

“I can’t let him continue. If this could stop him, weaken him even, it’s worth whatever the consequence to myself may be.” He argued.

You pushed yourself further from him, “I can’t- I won’t lose you. No, there’s no way.”

His expression shifted into one of sorrow and pleading, “I have to.”

And you knew there was no changing his mind.

You bit the side of your lip anxiously, looking at the ground before asking, “And this favor?”

The heartbreak was almost palpable, his voice going raw.

“I cannot be fully prepared to do anything that is necessary to destroy this horcrux if-”

He cut himself off with an intake of breath.

“If I know you’ll be waiting for my return, if I know what I have to leave behind I may be tempted to not go through with my plan.”

You couldn’t help but feel and look horrified, “What are you asking of me, Regulus?”

He seemed to flinch at the tone of your voice, a tone you’d never used before and one he couldn’t name.

“I need you to obliviate yourself from my memory.”

It felt as though your chest had collapsed in on itself, “I-I couldn-”

“You have to!” Regulus cried, his arms gripping the sides of your face as you couldn’t help but let a choked sob escape from your lips. “It’s the only way I’ll be able to go through with it, I can't know that there’s a possibility of leaving you.”

“Please, Regulus, you can’t ask this of me.” You choked out, searching his eyes for some sort of humor, something that told you it was all a cruel joke.

He pressed his lips against your forehead, both of your eyes closing as you two took in short, ragged breaths.

Everything seemed darker. The flowers in the Black garden were cold and dead, the snow wasn’t snow at all, instead dangerous sheets of ice. It was then you realized the war, the death eaters, everything had become so real.

“There is a letter on your bed at home, I’ve settled everything for you. I’m going to stand against the pillar, my back to you, and you are going to do it from behind the hedges so we won’t see each other after. You need to leave once it’s done alright?”

You nodded solemnly, knowing there was no use in fighting it. The cause was bigger than you, bigger than Regulus. Everyone made sacrifices, this just had to be yours.

“My heart beats for you, Y/n, whether I know it or not.”

“And mine for you, Regulus.” You smiled sadly, pulling his wrist up to your face and pulling back his sleeve to reveal his dark mark, pressing a kiss to the skin you spoke, “You aren’t them, you never were and you never will be.”

Regulus smiled but said nothing as he lowered his arms and put his gloves back on. With slow steps he walked to the pillar and looked back at you one last time.

“I’m just taking you in.” He whispered, before slowly turning.

You took your wand from your coat as you took even slower steps to stand just far enough for him not to notice you after it had been done. Regulus felt his resolve crumble with each crunch of your boots against the frozen ground, his eyes screwed shut- tears rolling down his face freely- as he prepared for what was coming.

With a shaky hand you raised your wand.

“Obliviate.”

Present

Sirius seemed to be thrown back from the pensieve, as if the memory had rejected him from viewing any longer, still sensitive. He felt an odd tickling sensation run down his cheek, his hand raising to brush away a stray tear as he fell into a nearby chair.

He never knew…

***

You pushed open the backdoor of your small home, the warm scent of cherry trees welcoming you. The sun was just barely starting to set as you looked off into the horizon of the vast field of trees, if you looked long enough you could make out the handsome silhouette of a boy you once knew sitting up in a cherry tree.

Only a few short months later, the lone figure would be joined by another… a brother.

tags:

@amourtentiaa

@vsawyer1989​

@lifeofkaze

@siriusement

@erinruby003

@maybesandohnos

@onlyfreds

@tayyx

[fandomlovingfreak]

Glacial Passion (2/?)

Regulus Black/Reader

Rating: Suggestive Content, but no lemon

Word Count: 1809

MasterList Link I AO3 Link I Wattpad Link

Summary: Glacial, cold, icy… all words that described Regulus Black’s grey eyes. Was there truly no emotion behind those eyes, or did a caring man exist beneath? Could she defrost those glacial eyes?

Disclaimer: Regulus Black (Walburga Black, Orion Black, and Sirius Black) is a character from Harry Potter by J.K. Rowling. Reader or y/n is not owned by Rowling. This work has not been created for profit or financial compensation, and is a transformative fair use work in accordance with Section 107 of the United States Copyright Act.

Notes: So I am a liar, and this will be longer than 3 chapters probably:) I kept writing chapter 2 and it ended up being more like 6000 words, so I’m splitting it up baby

Enjoy

Pulled from sleep abruptly, I sit up, disoriented in the unfamiliar bedroom. Glancing around as the memories of last night come flooding in. This bed, now empty , belongs to my husband. Noticing said husband's absence, I rest my hand where I last saw him, noting that the sheets are cool to the touch. I glance towards the two doors leading to the closet and bathroom. Something deep inside me hopes that Regulus would pop out of either of the doors. 

Maybe he went to get something--

No. It's absurd to let myself believe that Regulus simply stepped out of the room for a moment. My foolish heart wants to believe he didn't, but I'm all too aware that Regulus abandoned me in our bed the morning after our wedding.

Why I assumed having sex with him would magically make him love me, I don't know. It was ridiculous, a miscalculation , an expectation that I had been holding onto consciously or not.

I laugh bitterly to myself. How stupid can I be? 

How stupid.

***

I assume running into me in the library of the house was an unpleasant accident on his part, partly from the stuttering pause when he walked through the doors and partly from the icy look he gave me.

How someone can look at another with such-- coldness , especially someone you could at best call a stranger, is unfathomable to me. I look back down at the book that I've spent my day entertaining myself with to shield myself from his frigid eyes.

It's helped pass the time to an extent, the time I should have been with him doing whatever newlyweds do on their first day of marriage.

At first, I had wandered the halls aimlessly debating with myself if breakfast with his parents, alone, would be too unbearable. It was a perfectly tragic breakfast, with Walburga asking me an array of pointless questions that had little to do with getting to know her new daughter-in-law.

Worst of all, she had been relentless in her demanding way about the importance of an heir, as if I were supposed to pop one out after one night. I had to admit, the idea of exposing her son and his use of contraceptive charms had been a delicious idea at the moment. In the end, though, I chose civility with my charming husband, even as the spite I felt for him in the current time had nearly pushed me towards the edge in these conversations.

I had wandered into the library after escaping my in-laws, and I hadn't left since then. The novel chosen to occupy my time had been working to make me forget that I was beyond annoyed with Regulus and my situation... but then he walked in and ruined what little sanity I had collected in the past hours.

Regulus still stands in the door frame, looking as if he may turn around and walk away before engaging me in any conversation or even a simple hello. If this son-of-a-bitch turns around and pretends he didn't see me, I swear I will make myself a widow.

"(y/n)."

My shoulders tense, "Regulus."

He doesn't respond for a second before asking, "Have you had a nice day?"

Un-fucking-believable , "No."

Not even married a full twenty-four hours, and he left me alone to fend for myself in this creaky, horrible old house with only his parents and a house-elf for company, and he dares to ask me if I've had a nice day?

If I hadn't just had one of the most soul-draining days of my life, I would've laughed at the look on his face. He doesn't quite know what to do with my firm 'no'. Naturally, I am not happy, and I will not hide my unhappiness from my dear husband.

"What is the matter? Did you--"

"You ran off to Merlin-knows-where, leaving me alone in this house. I did not have a good day, thank you for asking." I go back to the book I was reading. I had been enjoying this moment of reprieve from the anger I was feeling, but now that he's returned, I can barely focus on the little black words.

"Mother and father were here--"

"I don't find their company appealing," I spit back. How dare he not even explain himself. And suggest such a-- repulsive alternative . His parents? He really wanted me to spend my first day as his wife with his parents?

"I assumed you would want to get to know your family."

"You didn't suppose I would want to get to know my husband?" I can't help but bite back. His calm tone further aggravates me.

"You should know your family." 

"They are not my family."

I peek over my book to see his face. Confusion and a tinge of annoyance lace his features.

"They are your family."

" No , they are not."

He lets a frown crease his forehead for a moment before he goes back to his mask of passivity. "You are my wife." 

"That is true." My jaw clenches uncomfortably. What was his point?

"Then you are family, which makes my family yours ."

I shake my head, "no, it does not. "

Regulus looks frustrated, "When we have children. Then you will consider my family as yours?"

"No."

"No? How can you say no to a fact? A child of ours will be related to my family as well as yours and bear the Black name."

"That is all true, but it does not make us family."

Regulus has the decency to look shocked at my words, "I am your husband. Of course, we are family. With a child, that's even more so."

"Our marriage is a glorified contract at best. You do not love me, and I do not love you. You don't even try to love me. You made it fairly clear today that you don't intend on trying. Yes, any child born between us would be my family, but that does not make us family. Family implies some bond of familial familiarity. I don't know you, and at this rate, I don't see myself ever knowing you." I keep eye contact as I lay out our situation to my husband. Husband didn't even feel like it should apply to him. The warmth the word could have brought to me has been extinguished by Regulus's lack of emotion. Lack of-- everything.

Regulus stares back.

"I can't love you."

His words pierce any anger I felt. I knew that this morning. Knew it as the hours passed by today, and I still heard nothing from him. I feel the lump of sorrow firm in my throat, and before I can stop myself, I whisper, "but why?" The weakness I let seep into the words disgusts me. I can't afford to be weak in this marriage.

His icy eyes stare into my watery ones. Stupid tears. 

"It's not who I am."

Rage fills where the sorrow sat a moment ago. "I have been damned to an eternity of misfortune. I don't understand what I did to deserve this."

Refusing to show this vulnerability, I practically run from the room.

I walk past the doors to the other bedrooms of Grimmauld place, finding mine— ours . Collapsing on the bed, I let myself tear up completely. 

I hate it here, and I can't think of any way to get out of it. Nothing can fix this— this mistake of a marriage.

Wiping the tears from my eyes, I look up at the heavy canopy. I don't know how I'll survive this marriage; at least my sanity won't survive. How anyone can live in this dreary home is beyond me.

***

Regulus paces the room, not expecting an argument from her. (y/n) had been so... docile the entire night they spent together. Nothing could've prepared for him to hear her frustrated words or her claim that she possibly wanted anything from him.

And her quiet "but why"... he nearly lost his cool at the broken sound of (y/n)'s voice. He hadn't expected her to be so… emotional.

Despite their marriage being arranged, his wife clearly came in with the hope she could grow to love him. And she seemed to hope that he could love her as well.

If he had any idea how to be in love, he would try for her. But… it's complicated. Even with the bonding spell between couples like them, he doubts he can act as she wishes.

Maybe he could act it , but that's not fair to (y/n). 

Regulus knew that it would be much crueler to pretend to love her when he truly did not.

***

(y/n) doesn't accompany him to dinner. Walburga and Orion don't comment, but he can tell that they are curious to know why their daughter-in-law wasn't present. 

When he makes his way to their room, he isn't surprised that she doesn't turn around to greet him.

For a moment, he watches her as she sits at her vanity. She is a rather pretty girl, he muses. He supposes he should be appreciative to have such a beautiful wife. But, unfortunately, not many men in these marriages could say they were attracted to their wives.

He's about to approach her when she speaks.

"I want a child." 

Regulus's mouth goes dry, " You do ?" 

(Y/n) turns around in her vanity chair, "I do."

"Where-- did this come from?"

"Is this not why we married?"

Regulus crosses his arms across his chest, "that's beside the point."

"It's not! This is why marriages like ours take place!" She gets up close and personal to him, "that's why your parents chose me for you. So I would have your children and continue your line ."

He doesn't argue with her because she isn't wrong.

"We don't need a child now."

She laughs bitterly, "You'll deny me this as well?" 

"I'm not— denying you anything."

"You have no right to say no to me, Regulus Black."

"We've been married for less than a week."

"The sooner, the better." She echoes his own words.

Regulus sighs, running a hand through his hair. This is the last conversation he wants to have at 10 P.M.

"We are not having a child right now. That's final."

She gets back up in his face, "We will see about that." (y/n) moves around him towards the door.

"Where are you going?"

"I'm sleeping elsewhere." He almost snorts at the irony of her leaving the room when she's all but declared she could seduce him into giving her the child she wants.

Instead, he grabs her arm before she can leave, "you stay here. I'll leave."

"I am perfectly capable of sleeping in a different room."

"Stay here," he gives her a serious look.

(Y/n) looks away from him, pulling her arm free, "fine."

[ringmyheart]

Could you do a lookism gun x reader where he’s sweet to them kinda like Mira and Zack 🥺

“You really don’t have to do that…” 

The way your voice wavered betrayed your discomfited, guilt-ridden heart. You weren’t normally sheepish. Despite your weak-mannered protest, he continued to tie and knot the laces of your shoe below you. A low hum reverberated in his throat, and there was a gap in the conversation before he finished tying the laces into a bow, straightening his back but not necessarily standing yet. 

“It’s fine. If I didn’t notice, you might’ve tripped.” The corners of his lips didn’t lift or falter, yet his countenance was still sunny and bright. Internally, you swooned, your mouth falling into an uncertain line. It’s not that you didn’t like him, no. You just felt unnecessarily rueful for being the receiver of his kindness. It’s not that tying someone’s shoes was such a grandiose act, but when done by him, it was like a leap upwards from his usual nature. 

With him not having that many acquaintances or friends outside of work, you were somewhat his exposure to everything else, including anything non-business related. It felt odd for you to be this connection to the world outside of his, because you felt ill-suited for the job. 

It felt like you were anchoring him down, and that his likeliness was only infatuation formed from you making yourself unattainable. You wondered if that was the case, and if you ever reciprocated the action in full, if he’d end up leaving… 

The only way you could receive an answer was through actual application of this wonder in real life. Maybe, some distance would actually do the two of you good… 

He stood to full height by the time you’d finished the thought process of your internal plan, and stood idly, as if awaiting your instruction. You were always deciding what you two would do, or where you’d go, and you felt even more like an anchor; a deep, heavy one, weighing him done. 

With a nervous glance around the park, you gulped. “Uhm…” fiddling with your fingers, you mustered it out. “I think we should have some space in between us for a while…” 

Your gaze was downcast, and with the silence engulfing the both of you, you wondered what he was emoting. Anger? Frustration? Wonder? Sadness? 

“Space?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Space, like space? Or space, like distance?” 

“What’s the difference?” 

“Space is when we don’t really see each other. If you ask for space, I’d take it you want to cut contact and refrain from seeing each other for a while. Distance is when I simply distance myself from you.”

The words he’d used had a hard time processing, and you chose the option with the plainer explanation. “O-oh, Uh, distance, then.” 

He gazed upwards in thought, with a ‘hm’, before looking at you quizzically, like you were asking for some alien request. “...Why?” 

“I just - I need some distance to breathe for a while...” That was a lie. You saw him nod as it registered in his head. 

“Okay.” 

“I’m so- oh, okay?” Your visage snapped up to him in awe. That wasn’t the reaction you’d anticipated. 

He nodded, grabbing your fingers with his and lifting them up and down with his. “Okay. I’ll give you some distance. That’s no problem.” His tone was chivalrous, but his face was still idle. 

“Yeah, uhm-“ you weren’t sure where you were going to go with that sentence, which is why you were glad he’d began to walk away before he’d heard you utter it out. While he walked, his retreating form wasn’t slumped over, and there were no hints to him being upset over this. 

“...” Well, looked like the date was over now. It rubbed you the wrong way somewhat when he didn’t express any sorrow, or even annoyance, to the two of you separating. You guessed it was for the better.

You lifted your foot to turn heel and begin to leave, when you saw Gun suddenly stop and turn to face you from a distance. Lips parting curiously, you waited for him to maybe shout something, or maybe send you one last glare or smile before walking away, but… no. He just stood there. You two engaged in eye contact from meters away, him indifferent, you bewildered. 

With a twinkle, he winked and sent you a thumbs up, conveying nonchalance and a prideful, elated look at the same time. 

It dawned on you. ‘By space he thinks I mean literal distance! Like, a few feet away distance!’ Your arms flailed around you in confusion. ‘What? Why would I even request that?!’ 

Meanwhile, across the park, Gun stared at you. He had a hard time catching on to why you needed distance, but if you needed some air - and him being so near you was disrupting that, he has no objections. Plus, he was glad this was what you’d wanted; if it was space, he didn’t know what he would’ve done. 

Your arms dropped to your sides in fists, and you wondered what to do. Should you just continue the hang out…? You wondered how he’d misinterpreted it considering he was usually scarily able to catch on to everything. ‘Crap, I shouldn’t have used the word in between! This is my fault!’ 

At one point, he’d waved across to you from afar, but you were too engrossed in your thoughts to catch on. He sulked. 

You were going to go and clear this up, when you felt a hand on your shoulder from behind you, and turned to face three strangers - all dudes, one scrawny, the other two burly.

“Hey,” the middle one said, nodding over in the direction of Gun. “Is that guy your boyfriend?” They inspected him from over here. 

You felt a wave of heat rush to your face. Your hands came up to cup your cheeks, flustered. “Oh, no… it’s not like that!” You exclaimed. 

The three seemed to nod amongst themselves, and you realized why they were probably here. 

‘Oh, do they want to be friends with him-?!’ You beamed. ‘This is great! I was just thinking about how he’d probably like more friends outside of work!’ 

You grinned mischievously, happily ready to introduce them. ‘Cant let them know he’s kind of scary, I was off out by that when I first met him… I’ll make him seem super sweet!’ You glanced over at Gun over your shoulder with a glitter in your eyes. ‘I won’t ruin this for you!’ 

“Well then, is he your friend?” 

You nodded vigorously. “Yep! Friend! He’s a great friend. If anyone else happened to want to be friends with him, they’d be in for a great time!” You said, conspicuous. 

The three guys seemed pleased by your answers so far, and you felt like you were rocking it. “Hmm,” a sudden dark air surrounded you and the three guys, and finally a crooked smile curved his lips. “And this friend of yours - you guys close?”

“Hm, I’d say so.” This time, they didn’t seem too happy at your answer. You found it odd how the three men kept glancing from you to your pocket, avoiding remaining eye contact for prolonged periods of time and seemingly more invested in your pocket than you… but you brushed it off. 

“Does this guy brawl? Does he have a good fighting ability?” 

‘Don’t scare them off, (y/n)! If they know he fights, they might run away! Tell them he isn’t, and throw in a lie in there that paints him in a good light! Maybe say he has a book collection? That kind of stuff doesn’t make anyone seem off putting.’

Your fists came to your chest as you excitedly ranted about him in a positive light, the three guys waiting on the balls of their feet for your answer. His eyes briefly darted to your pocket again, and you asked yourself why - it was just your wallet in there. 

“No, he doesn’t have a good fighting capability at all! In fact, he’s really bad at it! He’d never get into a fight! But he does have-“ 

Rob. They were going to rob you. Why you finally realized it mid-sentence was beyond you, but the entire conversation recited itself in your head as well as their weird mannerisms, and you realized you were about to get mugged. 

You leaned down and tried to emit an aura as threatening as you possibly could, changing the course of your sentence suddenly. “-skills. A very particular set of skills. Skills that make him a-“ 

“Hahaha! So you figured it out, huh? Don’t think we’re so easily fooled, you already answered us!” The ringleader of the group, you assumed, chuckled, the pick in his mouth sticking up. “Too late to change your answer now. Doesn’t matter how much that guy likes you,” he pressed his hand against your shoulder and pushed you back, “there’s not a thing he can do now. Cough it up.” He made a come hither motion with his hand, meaning your wallet, and you pointed over your shoulder to Gun as a last resort. 

“You don’t wanna mess with that guy.” 

“Oh?” 

“Yeah, I’m serious - he kills people.” 

You whipped your head over your shoulder, turning to Gun with eyes screaming for help. He must’ve seen this all go down, right?! And he knew what the gait of someone looking to mug you was like, right?!

‘Cmon, show them the expression of someone ruthless, Gun!’ 

You waved at him, expression full of panic and terror. When his expression became dark thanks to the natural resting bitch face he had, and he waved back, surely they’d see it was true. Right? 

Meanwhile, across the park, Gun saw you pause your chatting with the three faceless people around you (albeit he was only fixated on you), just to wave at him. He raised his arm, and with an expression which screamed he was content and happy, he waved back. Earlier when he’d done it, you hadn’t reciprocated, so this made him giddy. He wondered what you were talking about... didn’t you need distance? 

And you watched, horrified, when the curve of his lips titled skyward slightly. 

‘He smiles?! Now he smiles?! If only I hadn’t asked for distance, this would’ve be happening…!’  A dark shadow swept across your expression. You were screwed. 

You cupped your mouth with your hands. “Gun! Heeeeellppp!”

Gun merely blinked. 

It seemed the distance you created between the two of you was far too great, for he couldn’t hear you. The robber behind you curled his fingers over your shoulder blade darkly, with a low chortle. 

You began to wonder if you could make it if you bolted to him, but didn’t think you had the speed in you. 

Eyes closed in a deep brooding, you weighed your options. You could break into a sprint, but if you didn’t make it in time you didn’t wanna take the chance. Even if you weren’t badly injured - being tackled mid-run because you were too slow... that’d just be way too embarrassing. 

Well, if you started running, surely he’d see and come help you out, right?

But was he fast enough? 

Your thoughts were interfered with a swift kick to your ankle, not enough to knock you over, but it certainly snapped your eyes back to the trio towering over you. 

“Well? You gonna give or what?”

“We aren’t gonna wait all day.” 

“Cmon, just give us your wallet and we can go! Hurry!” The last of the three seemed hasty, like he was wary for police officers or bystanders. 

You wished you’d had more time to think, but the pressure put on you felt dire. Like you had to come to a conclusion fast... 

Acting out on impulse, your hands defensively went to your pocket and clutched your wallet through the fabric. You narrowed your gaze. “No!” 

‘He gave my like half that money! Like hell I’m giving it.’ 

The one in the middle chortled dryly, and nodded his head. “Alright, alright - what’s your name, kiddo?” 

“Why?”

“Just spit it out, yeesh.” He scratched the back of his head in indignation. 

“... (Y/n).” 

“Okay, (y/n),” the lousy, crooked grin he’d placed on his lips fell suddenly, and he leaned towards you threateningly. “You think being stingy is cute? I’m gonna pluck your fucking eyes out.” His eyes were wide, and instilled terror. Your stance grew weaker, and you’d thought it was an exaggeration when people described someone being scared as “their legs shook,” but you were proven false when yours began to tremble beneath you. 

He grabbed the pick between his teeth and pulled it out, holding it with his index and middle finger and pointing it at you warningly. He spared his surroundings a glance, seeing if there was anyone around to witness besides your weak-willed (from your description), book-loving friend.

Not a single soul was present otherwise. 

You could hear the wind whistle in your head from the absolute silence and lack of people in the park, and at your lack of response (mostly due to fear,) he reiterated, placing one hand on your wavering shoulder, the other gliding his hand through the air towards you, the pick so close to you it confused your vision. You recoiled. 

“Can you hear me?! I said I’d pluck your fucking eyes out-!” 

A black blur obstructed your vision of the pick, originating from the side, and the situation progressed too quickly for you it to resonate with you. 

The pick held by your eye went flying, and with the absolute silence erupting in the atmosphere, you could hear it land on the ground beneath you. The leg Gun had used to kick it out of his hand was still lingering in the air, and the mugger grunted. 

“Yeah, I hear you all right. Loud and clear. Pluck their eyes out? (Y/n)?” He pointed to you with his thumb, “you wanna pluck their eyes out?” 

Gun grabbed the hand he had on your shoulder, and plucked it off with unnecessary strength, a fear tactic. 

The three were silent for a second, before the middle guy straightened up. “I’ve heard all about you, book-reader boyfriend. I’m not scared.” 

Gun’s brow crinkled with his grin - this time, lifted by a sadistic pleasure. “What a coincidence,” he bumped foreheads with him, “neither am I. I’ll fucking kill you.” 

The guy laughed in his face, and you saw him cringe at his breath in his face. “What are youuuuu gonna d-“ 

THUD

It was a rough collision when the robber fell into the ground, arms splashed out on either side of him, and by now your hands had thrown over your mouth in shock at the turn of events at least thrice. 

The bottom of Gun’s heel dug into the gaps between his ribs, and the guy wrapped his hand around his ankle fruitlessly. “You’re gonna get dirt on my shirt.” 

“You’re pretty unfazed.” He chimed. “You think I was kidding? Were you kidding when you said you were gonna pluck (y/n)’s eyes out? Huh? Huh?” 

Now face to face with Gun, who was previously GREATLY distanced, he noticed his black sclera, and scrutinizing gaze, and the scar which tore apart the skin around his brow. And upon seeing eyes which wanted to kill him, the guy below him shuddered. 

Gun’s foot lifted up, and then, a series of kicks were sent to his ribcage; and you saw him wheeze. He leaned down tauntingly, not pausing the flurry of attacks, with a large smile baring his teeth. “You wanna pluck their eyes out, huh?! I’d kill everyone in fucking Gangnam if you’d even tried!” He kept going, this time with more fervor in his kicks, and he began to press into the guys’ abdomen; and you winced behind him. 

“H-hey, it’s fine now...” you said, reaching a hand out to Gun from behind, but your words fell upon deaf ears. Eventually you decided it was your responsibility to intervene, seeing the other two robbers cower and the middle guy begin to lose consciousness with lack of oxygen. 

You threw your hands into Gun’s shoulders, and pulled him back. “Hey, it’s okay! If you keep going, you’re gonna kill them! You can’t have a criminal record, can you?” 

Gun turned to you, expression not shifting in the slightest upon seeing your face. “... I can cover it up. I have the money and resources.” He said with disdain directed to the three. 

“Well-“

“They were going to hurt you, weren’t they? Why are you interfering?” 

You huffed. “I just don’t want that for you.”

The other two watched fearfully when Gun turned to face you, the air around him still dark. And if their own leader couldn’t handle that guy, what would happen to you? Interrupting him in the middle of fighting? Pulling back that monster? 

It doesn’t matter how much a guy like that likes you, when they’re doing what they take joy in - shedding blood, it never ended well. 

They winced in preparation for whatever would happen next, expecting to see you go flying like their leader had. They shuddered, after that they’d be next... right?

“... Okay. Let’s go.” 

“WH-WHAAA?!” Their jaws dropped in unison when Gun pivoted on his heel, and began to walk, expecting you to follow behind him. However as soon as his foot stepped out, he faltered. 

“Ah. Ow.” He said with a dead voice. 

Your brow furrowed concernedly. “Are you okay?” 

Now by his side, you saw him glance at his ankle. “Yeah.” He cursed under his breath. “I think I twisted my ankle doing that... ah, shit.” He plainly groaned, no real hint to him being in any pain in his voice. 

“Are you gonna be alright? Oh, no.” You said, and he looked at you with a blank expression. 

“Yeah. You’re gonna have to help me, now...” 

You nodded. “Of course!” Frantically trying to hurry, you threw his arm under your shoulder and held onto it once successful, supporting his weight with your own and unaware of the mischievous twinkle in his eyes. 

The two watched shocked as him and you retreated so... casually, straitening their eyes at Gun. That bastard, the two thought in sync, his leg wasn’t injured at all. 

Whilst the two of you walked away - him limping, he apologized. “Sorry for coming so late.” 

Your eyes darted the opposite way of him, sheepish. “It’s fine... how did you not notice? I was clearly being mugged...”

“I was only focused on you. Of course I’m gonna smile if you wave at me... who do you think I am?” 

You felt hot in the face, and internally swooned, but externally huffed. “Oh... okay. W-well, that explains it, then. It’s fine. How did you end up finding out, then?” 

“Ah,” he said. “The keywords.” 

“Keywords?” 

He nodded. “Yeah. If I hear your name and a threat in the same sentence, of course I’m gonna notice. ‘I’m gonna pluck your eyes out, (y/n).’ (Y/n). Pluck your eyes out.” He looked up casually. “Of course I’m gonna come if I hear something like that.” 

You guffawed. “Wha- I screamed your name and you didn’t hear shit!” 

“It’s different when it’s your name.” When you sent him a glare, he shrugged. “I don’t know.” 

You signed. “... Thanks.” 

He blinked at you, before chuckling with a half smile. “Don’t mention it. Just don’t ask for space to breathe anymore. When you’re away from me, bad things could happen.” 

“U-Uh, yeah...” you scratched your cheek with your free hand. “I won’t anymore. Especially after today.” 

There was a natural lull in the conversation as you helped him home, until he simpered evilly. “Sooo... ‘book-reading boyfriend?’ Boyfriend?” 

From behind, like a happy dog with his tail wagging, even from the distance the two robbers could sense the elated feeling emanating from Gun. 

This was very fun to write nd I tried rlly hard to make their dynamic like zach’s and mira’s but can’t tell if I could. I rlly hope u liked it!! Thanks for the request 💘

[echo-of-sounds]

smut alphabet - aizawa shouta

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

He won’t instantly fall asleep, especially after particularly rough sex. He’s a grown man who understands how important it is to check in with each other and make sure you’re both okay. Even if you say you’re fine, he still looks over your body. He knows pain feels good in the moment but afterward you realize how sore your cheek and jaw is and how much that scratch actually hurts. If you need help, he’ll help. And when you’re both settled, he’ll cuddle you, unwinding for some sleep. 

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He doesn’t like admitting how much he loves it when you focus on his neck. Since it’s usually hidden behind his scarf and hair, it’s perfect for you to go wild on the skin, sucking and biting as hard as you want. It’s where he’s the most sensitive too. You’ll pull away to red marks and a heavy flush. 

Your lips catch his attention. He likes seeing them swollen- loves seeing them wet and wrapped around his cock. And your facial expressions urge him to go faster and harder. He may also have a thing for your hair but that’s just because he loves pulling on it.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

It’s on the salty side. He doesn’t expect you to swallow. He knows it’s not the best taste out there. However, when a highly dominant mood strikes, he’ll finish by holding your head down so he can cum directly into your throat. The sounds you make are beyond satisfying.

He uses a condom most of the time. Kids aren’t off the table for him. Maybe in the future. His life is a little too hectic for any babies right now.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He got a blowjob in an alleyway when he first started night patrols. He can’t remember their name and won’t tell anyone. Ever. Definitely not his proudest hookup.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He hasn’t had the number of partners as some people have, but he knows what he’s doing. Some of his experience is from the very few relationships he’s had and some were from one night stands. He’s confident in his skills but also realizes everyone’s different. So if he’s ever unsure of how you’re feeling or reacting, he will ask. Because if you’re uncomfortable then he needs to learn about and change what he’s doing wrong.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

It’s natural for him to take on the more active role. Whether it’s him being completely over you, not allowing you to move at all, or the numerous doggy style positions he can choose from. He just likes feeling in control. When you’re under him, he uses his weight to his advantage, putting his hands on your back, letting himself drop heavy and deep every thrust.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Not at all. He’s quiet, focusing on actions rather than words. If you make a joke, he won’t react and flip you onto your stomach, thrusting harder than before so you’re left moaning with no room to talk.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

It’s dark, matching the hair on his head. He won’t shave. He finds it odd that people get grossed out or put off by hair down there. Like, it’s just hair? Everyone has it. He doesn’t trim that much either. He won’t bother with any maintenance when he’s not in a relationship or regularly having sex. Once in one, he’ll trim it every now and then.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Don’t expect gushing compliments and rose petals leading to the bed. Because he doesn’t talk and isn’t romantically inclined, there is a lack of intimacy during sex. However, you can feel it after. He’s not the best with words so his affection is displayed through his hands and hugs. He’ll hold you close as you calm down from your high, caressing your entire body, kissing your forehead. If you compliment him he must just blush.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He mostly does it late at night or really early morning while everyone else is sleeping. Once he moved to the dorms, he masturbates less from the combination of where he is and the amount of stress he has. When there’s no other way to relieve the stress or thoughts, he’ll do it- completely and utterly silent.

Porn comes and goes. Sometimes he’s fine jacking off without it. Sometimes he needs a little help. He watches what matches his mood. It’s usually rough and hard scenarios.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Rough sex is a given. It’s just his character so it often happens without him realizing or planning on it. Of course, he won’t cause you pain until you have a conversation about what you like and your limits. He’s willing to choke, spank, bite, slap, pull your hair, and spit in your mouth. Whatever you need, he can do.

He likes being called daddy or, if you prefer, sir. It satisfies his natural dominance and will change how hard he’s thrusting. At the same time, it’s not his favorite kink. He doesn’t need you gasping daddy to enjoy himself and he can still be as rough as you want him to.

He partakes in this one less than the others, but he likes orgasm control. And not only on you. When you suck him, bringing him to the brink, then pull away, he’ll feign annoyance while secretly enjoying being under your care. He’s often the leader so feeling you tease and control him lets him let go. He also enjoys watching you go down on him for so long.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

When he’s in the mood for rough sex, he prefers the bed. It’s comfortable for both of you. He truly doesn’t care besides that. He’ll take you on the counter, the floor, the couch, wherever. It all depends on when and how hard the mood hits him.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Frustration is a big internal motivator. He gets to work off all his stress and feel good and make you feel good. It’s a win-win.

Kiss his neck slowly. He’ll relax, leaning into your lips, turning his head to the side so you have more space to kiss. Whisper how much you want him- how good he makes you feel. Listening to your desires gets him hard faster than most things. 

He also enjoys cute clothing. Thigh highs are his favorite. 

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He can’t do anything relating to schoolgirl kinks. He doesn’t want to see you in a schoolgirl uniform. He doesn’t want to be called sensei. Not only will he never be able to look at his students again, but he also hates hearing and seeing those things while he’s supposed to be turned on. He’s a teacher and that’s one line he simply cannot cross.

He won’t use his scarf in the bedroom. That thing has been wrapped around horrible people and he limits it to that. He doesn’t want something so dirty touching you, especially in the bedroom. If you really want to be tied up, he’ll buy expensive rope for you and only you.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Prefers receiving and loves sloppy blowjobs. Hearing you slurp on his cock with drool lathering him, dripping from your hands, is the best way to make him cum quickly. As he gets closer, he’ll grab your head, making you take him deeper. If you want to hear him be the most vocal he could ever be, lay on the bed, hang your head off the edge, and let him throat fuck you. He uses his whole body as he thrusts past the back of your throat.

But he isn’t selfish. He has no problem returning the favor. His fingers are firm and his scruff is harsh (in a good way). He’ll tie his hair back and lay between your legs for two beautiful orgasms.

Sometimes he favors oral sex over anything else. It’s easier.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Most of the time he’s fast, rough, and hard. He saves any pent up frustration for his workouts or, more preferably, you. It keeps him going longer and harder. 

Those mornings when you’re both hardly awake, he’ll snuggle up behind you, making his erection blatantly obvious. Early morning sex is one of the few times he slows down. The other time is when you have comfort sex. If you or he had an emotional day, he’ll let up and drag out your time together. He’s softer during those times.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He’s fine with them. You can’t lay in bed and enjoy each other every time you have sex so he’ll opt to push you over the table, drop your pants, and take you fast. And sometimes, he just gets so inexplicably horny that he wants you then and there.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He’s fine with experimenting. He’s pretty open about what he does and doesn’t like and wants you to be open as well. He’ll try a certain kink or position or toy a few times before deciding if he likes it. Risks, on the other hand, aren’t something he’s willing to do. Being a Pro Hero means you have standards to uphold and he won’t risk jeopardizing any of it.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

One round is his standard. He isn’t All Might Superman. He’s tired and sex takes the last bit of energy out of him, mainly because he goes so hard during it. He usually lasts for thirty minutes but if he’s feeling up to it, he can hold himself back for longer. 

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He doesn’t own much and they’re for his partner, not him-  a cute handcuff/collar/leash set and a small vibrator. When he finds himself in a relationship that he believes will last, he’ll start to build a small collection. He wants to watch you struggling from the vibrating butt plug while you're blindfolded and bound by expensive silk ropes.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He teases all the time. His fingers will press right where you want them but leave a second later. He’ll rub your entrance until you beg for it. He won’t let you touch yourself no matter how much you plead. 

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Instinctively silent. He quiets any pant or huff before they can form. To get him groaning, focus your mouth on his neck, and dig your nails into his skin, deeply. He’ll begin to let himself groan and moan when he’s with someone he truly loves and someplace he knows is safe.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

He doesn’t do self-care as well as he should. His lips are often chapped and he could learn how to use lotion (even just a tiny bit would do wonders). When he gets out of the shower, hand him a bottle of lotion. He’ll toss it aside. Apply it to his back and arms for him and he’ll fall asleep under your hands. 

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Around 5 ½ inches. Not the biggest but with his intensity, it’ll seem so much bigger. His head isn’t that sensitive hence why he likes deepthroating- more stimulation on his entire length.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

It can vary from week to week. It’s usually pretty normal- about three times a week.

He does have a lot of responsibilities so that takes him away from you and he is often overworked so that leads to his sex drive lowering. And even if he does want sex when he’s so stressed, he’s just too tired to actually do it. That’s the best time to give him a blowjob. He can lay back and relax while you take care of him. He’ll appreciate so much he’ll be openly affectionate with his words.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He’s tired after but won’t fall asleep. He needs to make sure you’re okay before he can begin to relax. Though once everything’s settled and he lays down, he’s out like a light.

[youryanderedaddy]

Scum

                             A short little idea I had from back then

Tw: kind of dark, unhealthy relationship, mentions of cheating, slight dirty talk/sex description (no actual sex), obsessive behavior, slight violence, threats, choking, reader is kind of a shitty gf, provocative behavior

 Of course he was waiting for you at the door, sweaty, angry, still as tall, dark and handsome as ever. It was finally time to have some fun. 

 "You are really late, ya' know. Where were you?" Jake asked in the deep husky voice he knew you secretly loved - it caressed your ear in all the right places. His hands quickly went to your hips drawing you in for a hungry kiss, soon turning into a pleasant wet mess of tongues and teeth.

 "I was out fucking some guy." You smiled teasingly, crossing your arms into the tight hug. "He wasn't very gentle though, left me aching all over." You complained, chuckling at the memory of the cute stranger from the bar sloppily trying to hit your cervix while attempting to maintain his cool upfront at the same time. Of course he failed, feeling your heat suck him in and milk every last drop of pleasure left, but his struggles had been quite entertaining to you.

 Your boyfriend didn't look half as amused though. His warm green eyes were fixed on your frame and you could swear there were little flames swimming in the slightly enlarged pupils. The man clicked his tongue in annoyance and shook his head disapprovingly.

 "Babe, don't joke around. It was a long, stressful day at work and the last thing I want to hear is your twisted sense of humor." He replied, frustrated and fed up with your little games. Today Jake wanted nothing more than a little support and understanding, tomorrow you could go back to your quirky fucked up self, now he needed you to hold him close and be a responsible adult. Unfortunately for him this wasn't on your to -do list.

 "But baby..." You whispered in his ear, using your sweetest, nastiest tiny tone. Your knuckles rubbed gently at his back, messaging the sore spots and the rough skin underneath the white uniform. "I wasn't joking." You giggled loudly, playing with his slender fingers, covered in calluses and small bruises from the long hours of hard work. "I really slept with someone else." You added afterwards, shaking in anticipation. It was a hobby of yours to stir people up until they reacted the way you wanted and your lover was no different. In fact he was your favourite victim - he wore his heart on his sleeve, always ready to dive in deep and just feel, suffer trough life openly, never bothering to hide or bottle all the colorful emotions he experienced.

 "Don't be a brat." Jake growled, starting to get pissed off, even his cheeks turned red in irritation. The man carefully took hold of your wrist and pulled it up to remind you to behave. If only it was that easy. "This isn't funny, sweetheart." Your boyfriend spat out and squinted, mentally cursing himself for losing composure so easily even though he knew you were bluffing just to provoke him. But it was hopeless - he loved you after all, so it was only natural to want you to stay loyal and all his.

 "You don't believe me." You answered slowly, mimicking a disappointed half-hearted expression on your face. Your lips twisted into a malicious smirk and you had to stop yourself from cracking a laugh for the third time now. "What do I need to do for you to understand that I cheated on you, idiot?" You yelled at the end, glaring at him with a cold punishing gaze. "Do you want to hear all about the way he touched me? Stretched me open on his fingers, ma...?" You couldn't finish the sentence, because soon there was a red burning mark on your cheek. He had hit you hard. A part of you wanted to keep this going, excited by the violence, and the other was ready to mock the man for his weakness, for the absolute lack of patience and self - control. But you were forced to shut up involuntarily when Jake's big rough hand closed around your neck, giving a firm squeeze. The words suddenly died at your throat.

 "Don't say another word!" The man uttered weakly, in contrast to the strength in his fist. You noticed the tear streaming down his cheek along his chin. Maybe you had taken the game too far this time, pushing Jake to his limit. Deep down you actually felt bad, but you kept your gaze stern and clear. In the meantime your boyfriend had gritted his teeth and tightened his grasp onto your delicate skin, causing you to choke a little bit. Your hands went over his, scratching and trying to shake them off but to no avail. The world was starting to spin around and you were getting dizzy, the panic quickly suffocating you. "I love you, but..." The man paused to press his cold lips into your blue ones, only touching them slightly. "If you ever betray me again I will fucking kill you."

 Unlike you, he wasn't joking around.

[sips---tea]

NSFW abc for Severus Snape

A: Aftercare

Severus isn't the best at aftercare, not knowing exactly what to do but lay and snuggle into you. If he cums onto you then he will get it cleaned off by pouring you a bath which he does not join you in, unless you nag him to.

Sometimes Severus says something in concern if he leaves a large hickie or he was overly rough which it can be. He will get out some cream which will help whatever he left and will make sure that you are feeling okay.

B: Body Part

Severus loves your neck and wrists. The way that he can wrap his hand around them, hold them, kiss them, bite them. Both are perfect to grip during sex or in private. He loves using your wrists to hold you down if you are being bad or just for fun, he can grip both of them in one hand while his other traces your neck.

C: Cum

Severus only wants it in you, either swallowed, in your ass or your cunt. He sees no point for his cum to be anywhere but in you and he takes pride that it is. Sometimes he likes to see it painted over you as a testament to his ownership, however, he is satisfied that although he cannot see his mark, he knows that you have it.

D: Dirty Secret

Severus may be dominant but he has bratty sub fantasies of being tied up and pegged until his master/mistress is happy with him and gives him praise. He would never tell this to you, keeping it to his head, however, sometimes when he looks at you he cannot stop thinking about you tying him up, a riding crop in your hand.

E: Experience

Not much, still fawning over Lily when you arrived that he had never really got to be with anyone else or gain experience. When you arrive he learns a lot and becomes very experienced just through you teaching him what his natural dominance can do sexually.

F: Favorite Position

Anywhere he can see your face and the slight twitches and movements you make when he fucks you. This means missionary, against a wall, he is not the biggest fan of you sitting on his lap as he likes to be in control with thrusts, however, he sometimes lets you bounce on his lap.

Severus also loves knee grinding, the way you clutch to him and with all your effort grind against his thigh and knee, trying to catch your orgasm.

G: Goofy

Severus is never really goofy, but after he is more likely to be as he is relaxed, letting out his frustrations and annoyance out on you and now being more relaxed, forgetting about his duties as a teacher and a double agent.

H: Hair

Severus doesn't have much hair on his chest or around his cock, apart from a little sporting of pubes which he does not bother to shave unless you nag him too. He doesn't see the need to shave and doesn't see the need for you to either.

I: Intimacy

Surprisingly, Severus is quite intimate, loving it when you look into each other's eyes as you both fall over the edge or you wrap your legs around him as he thrusts into you. He loves cock warming after, keeping himself still close to you as you both rest after.

J: Jack Off

If he does then it will be when you are away, however, he does not really see the need to, unless he is frustrated, as there is nothing to turn him on when you are away. He sees little point in it, seeing marking as better use of his time than pleasuring himself halfheartedly without you.

K: Kink

Severus has a daddy kink, although he doesn't like it out of the bedroom, preferring it to be just in private or in sex. Severus sometimes has a wand kink, using his wand against your head like a knife kink would work or to fuck you, there are many uses for his pliable wand. Of course, Severus likes to be dominant and likes to use his hands as much as possible, to slap you, choke you, pet you.

L: Location

The bed to him is the place which makes the most sense to have sex but anywhere in your and his rooms will work such as against a wall. He also likes it in his office, with his office locked tight. Severus, however, does not see it as appropriate to fuck you in his classroom, even with the door locked as he does not want his classroom to be contaminated or have any suspicion that he was having sex in it.

M: Motivation

Just seeing you with that look in your eyes starts to get him going. Also, you, sitting on his lap and nuzzling into his chest, slightly brushing his cock either on purpose or not.

Sometimes it can be bad news from the death eater meeting or just frustration with life can get him going, wishing to take it out by fucking you to forget his problems.

N: No

He is turned off by age play such as you being a student. He finds it disturbing as a teacher and completely refuses to take part in it. Severus also does not like a kink that hurts you too much, at that point his caring side will question what he is doing as he does have a very overactive brain which always puts him in doubt, this means with his wand play he does not use spells which will hurt too bad.

O: Oral

Severus prefers receiving it, loving feeling your lips wrapped around his disco stick, however, he doesn't mind giving also, but it does not give a good view of your face so he can watch your little movements.

P: Pace

Severus likes it quite fast, however, he likes to go slow to tease you and make you sometimes beg for it which he loves to see. After a while in your relationship he will go slower, enjoying more sensual parts of sex (although he wouldn't say) and loving how you rock with his pace.

Q: Quickie

Severus sees no point in it, the only time a quickie could occur is between classes which could mean students outside as he fucks you which he would not find comfortable. Severus much prefers it long, loving to orgasm multiple times with you.

R: Risk

Severus is not that open to experimenting with different things, but he is quite a stickler to things he knows he enjoys, his stubborn nature making it difficult for you to persuade him to try anything new.

Severus as said does not like much risk, not liking the thought of anyone, especially students, knowing what he is doing. Severus also will never find out about anything he would want to try sexually, not looking for anything new, sticking to what he enjoys.

S: Stamina

Severus will go on and on until he is satisfied, which is usually three rounds, however, it can be longer if he wishes it to be. Severus will slowly use stamina throughout. If it was a short session then he will definitely start again in the morning. Severus likes to see you red and quivering, however, it is not a must and he will stop if you have had enough.

T: Toys

Severus is not much for toys, always preferring the touch of his fingers, tongue, cock making you squirm and moan rather than an object used only for sex. Severus would see there being no point of buying it if it only has one use of sex. If you nag him, or buy it yourself, he will use it sometimes, such as handcuffs, but it is not for every time.

U: Unfair

Severus loves to tease you, loving how you react to him pushing so close to the edge of pleasure and then losing it, your red face, your annoyed expression doesn't fail to make him chuckle and tut at you, telling you to be patient.

V: Volume

Severus is not that loud, only letting out little grunts and moans in sex. These noises are hot though, his low voice sounding like music as he lets out sounds of effort as he fucks you. He likes to whisper little things in your ear, such as praise or grunts to show you how much he wants you.

W: Wild Card

Severus always gets worried if his sex is okay, if you are okay and if you enjoyed it. Severus wouldn't ask you directly but would use occlumency to see the answers to his questions.

Severus also likes using occlumency to discover what you want which you are too awkward to ask in sex and in normal life. This means that you are always surprised that he seems to know what you are thinking and so that, at least at his angle, there communication.

X: X-Ray:

There was a study that men with long noses have big dicks. This is true, he has big dick energy and he doesn't hide it from you. To add to that, Severus is tall, so his dick is long and thick, fitting into you perfectly, hitting each part of you perfectly.

Y: Yearning

Severus's sex drive is quite high, although he wouldn't want sex all the time. Severus sometimes does not see the point in sex, preferring holding each other and reading, cooking with you, going for a walk than simple desires of the flesh. If you wish for sex he will mostly oblige. Severus' yearning is higher when you are both are at home, not needing to worry about interfering with children or professors distracting you both. It also means there are fewer responsibilities for you both.

Z: ZZZ

Severus is never a great sleeper, but after sex, he can feel more relaxed, it all depends on what happened before and after. If there's a big death eater meeting the next night he wouldn't sleep, letting you snooze after stimulating you so perfectly. However, after the war or back home he can sleep quickly, with nothing on his mind but you.

[tooweirdforyou]

Mihawk Having A Strained Relationship With His Masculine! Daughter

Request : sorry if this is VERY specific but can i request a scenario or headcanons where mihawk has a daughter who is very masculine and dresses very princely that people often mistake her for a boy. (bonus if she has a pet raven🥺) and she acts like mihawk but she hates being compared to him because their relationship is strained because mihawk was always busy with other things when she was growing up. but mihawk tries his best to get back on his daughter's good side and so they can be close again ??

A/N : tried something different- do you prefer me posting fics this way or the way I had prior? - thanks for requesting, I hope I did this right. ;-;

I deeply apologize if this seems offensive somehow. It isn’t my intention at all.

Summary : Mihawk attempting to fix his relationship with his masculine! daughter.

-

“So strong-looking and stoic. As expected of Hawkeye Mihawk’s son.”

“Son? I recall him having a daughter.”

“Is it a daughter? He doesn’t look like a female..”

Hearing the many whispers among the crows, you tilt your head to the left to eye them, your sharp, empty and intimidating eyes startling them.

Immediately the two strangers kept their mouths shut and strolled off before you could do anything to them.

Exhaling out in annoyance, you turn back to your teacup, handle gripped between your fingers.

Karasu, your raven, sat on the edge of the table in front of you, standing still and waiting for you, whilst basking in the shade given by the umbrella hung up.

You sat outside alone, hoping to be given the peace of quietness on this island you passed by,

but of course, being the only child of the strongest swordsman in the world and a Warlord, you definitely weren’t going to be allowed that.

Dracule Mihawk..

Dracule [Name]..

You despised the name.

You absolutely hated everything that made you related to the infamous swordsman.

It seemed obvious to you as well, that Mihawk despised being related to you. Being your father.

There was never a time where Mihawk would venture away from his castle and not be questioned about you. About his thoughts on your growing strength and fame in the New World.

Same with you. You weren’t sure how news even came out that you were related to him, considering the amount of effort you put to cut ties with him.

Yet people knew, and people asked questions. Lots and lots of questions. Irritation grew easily with you when Mihawk’s name was heard at all.

Even Marines were getting involved with you, even if you weren’t a pirate.

Just merely a traveler, attacking both pirates and marines that stood in your way and to cure boredom.

You never were and never will be given a normal life.

“... Let’s get going, Karasu. Before we get kicked out for scaring customers away.”

The caw of your raven was heard and you smile slightly, the corner of your lip twitching upward as you let him rest on your shoulder before standing up.

Glancing down at your reflection in the small teacup, your lips curl back down into a slight frown, seeing the resemblance indeed, to your father.

“Tch.”

You poured the tea onto the ground and slammed the cup on the table, sucessfully shattering it.

The mutterings didn’t stop. Not that you expected them to. But it was irritating.

Didn’t these people have anything better to do then constantly talk and gossip about you, right in front of you no less?

“Should we get going to our next trip?” You mumble, walking around the coast of the island you were on, needing some peace from the citizens in town.

Mindlessly wandering, your thoughts were interrupting by a messenger bird.

( I forgot what it’s called— it’s not a news coo right? )

Karasu cawed at it, the messenger bird cawing back as it flew down towards you, and dropped an item into your hands.

“A delivery? From who?”

It was a letter, along with a eternal pose.

To Kuraigana Island.

Immediately recognizing the name, your grip tightened on the item, frustration and even anger quickly building up at you at the sight of it.

Leaving it alone for the moment, your eyes turn to the letter.

No signature or anything of the sorts. Just your name.

“[Name].”

Scoffing slightly, you carefully held the eternal pose and opened the letter and read it, the smallest part of your praying it wasn’t what you thought.

-

“[Name].

I heard you were in the area. I apologize that I cannot come see you in person, as I am occupied with other matters. However, I’d like to speak with you. Come to my castle and we shall discuss matters. I’ve sent you an eternal pose to guide you. Expect to see you soon.

Best Regards, Mihawk”

-

You then turn to the eternal pose, the engraving of the island name across it. You wanted to break it, destroy it completely from your sight but you couldn’t. You didn’t know why.

After disregarding you, throwing you off and pushing you aside to focus on himself, always neglecting you, why.. why did he want to patch things up now?

The whites of your knuckles were seen from how hard you were gripping the letter, nearly crumpling it.

“Tch. All these years, why now?... doesn’t even have the decency to come see me himself.. ‘other matters’..”

No matter how much you wanted to ignore the letter, to shatter the eternal pose and completely ignore your father forever.. you just couldn’t.

Something in you was demanding to see him one last time.

Either, to hear what he has to say, to finally ask him why he even had you if he wasn’t going to care for you, or perhaps shout at him for all the pain and misery you’ve been given being his child, you weren’t quite sure.

“Damn it.”

Crushing up the letter into a ball, you shove it into your pocket and glance down at the eternal pose.

You were going to visit him.

“Holy..shit..”

Admittedly, you were in awe.

Perhaps it was because you didn’t remember much, but the island was probably one of the best things you’ve ever seen.

The appearance seemed gloomy and dark, but it was just your style. The many trees that surrounded the center of the island and the giant castle with a beautiful view, you were sure of it.

Forcing yourself to ignore the actually really cool place, you trudge forward to look at the letter in your hands, Karasu resting on your shoulder.

“It’s not that cool.. we’ll take a look around after we see what the hell he wants from me..” you could only scoff so you wouldn’t give in to the aesthetic.

But it looked really cool.

Sighing, you continue forward and finally made it to the gate fo the castle, just to find someone sitting there on the step, holding three swords.

He was laying down, panting heavily. His green hair and forehead was soaked with sweat.

Though, it seemed as if he heard you because he snapped up within seconds and held out one of his swords towards you.

“Who the hell are you?”

Your brows furrowed at the male. He seemed around your age, or maybe a bit younger. Either way, he was weird.

“Uh.. I’m here for Mihawk.” You mutter, clearly not threatened nor intimidated by him. In actuality, the swordsman was a bit taken back.

To him, you were just some guy with weird tastes in clothes, since they seem so fancy and royal, and had such a dark aura, resembling Mihawk.

“What’s your business with Hawkeye Mihawk?”

“Are you his guard dog or something?”

The swordsman only scowls are your retorted question and clicks his tongue. “I’m his apprentice, dumbass.”

It made him even more annoyed at your stupid raven constantly staring at him with its sharp eyes and cawing every few seconds towards him.

“Like I’d know that, you stupid...green-hair weirdo.” You stare at him weirdly before walking past him before he could say anything.

He started to shout a few profanities but you simply ignore him, passing a pink-haired female with an umbrella and a teddy-bear along the way, but you paid no mind to her or her stares and calls.

Rubbing your temple, you started to question your choice of coming, and your ‘father’s’ choice of apprentice and his pink-haired girlfriend, you were assuming.

Looking around the hall as you walk, you just sigh and admired the interior design whilst muttering on how the hell you were supposed to know which room he was in.

Feeling lost, you groan a bit, turning to Karasu. “Karasu, should we just go? I have no idea where the hell I am.”

Finding a door, you walk over to it and open it abruptly, pushing it open just to find the person you were looking for.

The noise made Mihawk look up from his book in his hand and he stands up almost immediately when he realizes who it was.

“...”

“...”

You two just stared at each other, unable to say anything. Unable to handle the silence, you just turned and went to walk out, until he spoke.

“[Name].”

It nearly made you jump but you, fortunately, didn’t.

Slowly turning back, Mihawk gestures to the couch with the tilt of his head, before going over to a table drawer.

Whatever he was doing, you ignored as you reluctantly close the door behind you but let Karasu outside of the room to wait.

Slowly and cautiously, you went over to the couch and just stood beside it, not really feeling the need to sit down.

Mihawk returns, clutching a small wrapped box in his hand.

“...how was the journey? Did you come across any unwanted miscreants?”

“..naturally. It was handled with ease.. the journey was fine.” You mutter, forming your lips into a tight line as you frown.

Mihawk nods once at you and eyes your form, while you eye the box, wonder what it could be.

Then, he spoke up again. “Thank you for coming.”

“Don’t get your hopes up, I’m not expecting any good news to result from this. Whatever you want, just say it so I can leave.”

You turn away from him, establishing the harshness and bitter feeling you felt towards him which he understood. He didn’t deserve any kindness you had to offer.

Though he didn’t voice it aloud, he was a bit impressed with how you grew up. You truly did seem like one powerful force to be reckon with, almost on the same level as himself. You had potential.

There was regret building up in him seeing you though. The fact that you grew up to be someone so strong like you were now..

.. but he didn’t aid in any of that. He wasn’t there and he couldn’t help raise you be the person you were now.

“Are you going to keep staring or start speaking?”

Though he didn’t appreciate your sass, he understood it. “I’ll get straight to the point then.”

“..I.. have no excuse for neglecting you.”

Mihawk admits, slowly taking a seat in his chair. He closed his eyes for a brief moment before opening them.

“Other than that I’ve kept myself busy and away from you. I’ve been losing focus, settling matters on the side than focusing my attention on you.” He stood up again, gripping the box.

Your fists clenched at his words, mind recalling painful memories you’ve suppressed.

“But, before I could realize that I should be caring for you, you were already distant from me. I’ve became someone you despised even at such a young age.”

He continues, slowly stepping towards you as he holds out the wrapped box in his hand, which you slowly took.

“..You dress nice.” He nods at the outfit, appreciating the look. “I’ve had Shanks ask me if I had a son, since he’s also seen you on the news lately. I made sure he’d remember that you are my daughter.”

He didn’t judge you for looking so masculine. He accepted who you are as a person.

Finally stepping in front of you, gently placing a hand onto your shoulder.

“...Mi hija...I don’t expect you to forgive me.” He states firmly, looking down at you. You look up at him, trying to stay calm but it wasn’t working.

“But I’d like to be back into your life, a different way than the first time. However, I understand if you refuse it. Whatever you choose, I shall respect and go with you. I just want you happy.”

You weren’t the sentimental, emotional or sensitive type, but, tears slowly brimmed your eyes hearing him.

You hated the familiar ache in your chest, it pounding inside you and felt like it was ripping you to pieces..., yet, you weren’t angry.

Happy? He wanted you to be happy?... what did feeling happy feel like? Was the thought of finally having this father figure back into your life after missing it for so long, a reason to be happy?

Quietly, you just look down at the box that has your name written over it.

Opening it, you lift the top up and saw the all too familiar necklace inside. A gasp escaped your lips as you look up at Mihawk, realizing what it was and you whispered out.

“You’re giving this to me?” There was a hint of confusion and skepticism in your tone.

Mihawk nods. “I’m handing it down to you.”

Carefully, you lift up the mini cross and pull out the blade inside it and poked your finger, seeing it pricking the skin with ease and blood trickling down.

It was the real thing. And it was just as amazing as you always expected.

You close it back up and set it down onto the table beside you, forcing yourself to contain your excitement.

Though you hated him, you often saw photos of him and saw his familiar cross. Even when you were younger, his mini blade in his cross was extremely cool to you and you always wanted it.

And now he was giving it to you.

“Father, I..”

“I’m aware I may not have been the best father. But I plan on being a good one from now on.. if you’ll allow me to.” Seeing how serious and stoic his expression was, made your tears start to stream down your cheeks.

You were silent for a minute.

“..why now?”

It was all you could ask, you wiping your tear-stained cheeks as you look down, uncertain of how you should react.

How could you react?

Were you willing to give this man a second chance into your life, after he blatantly ignored you the first time?

Or were you going to reject the opportunity of finally experiencing what having a father was like?

Mihawk stares at you for a moment, an unreadable expression across his face before he closed his eyes. “..I’ve been watching you through the news, watching your bounty grow.. I.. I’m proud of how far you’ve come and how much you’ve grown.”

Your eyes widened.

Proud?

Tears streamed down your cheeks faster, your shutting your eyes tightly. You’ve never had someone say they were proud of you for something.

And even if Mihawk was barely in your life, the fact that he was your real father and trying to get back into your life... hearing him say he was proud of you just hit different. It snapped something in you.

“I hate you...”

Mihawk was a bit taken back but showed no emotion, slowly closing his eyes as he accepted your decision.

“I hate you for not being there for me. For not being my father when I needed you.. for leaving me alone for [—] years. For focusing more on yourself than your own child.”

He listened to every word, feeling a small pang in his heart with each statement but remained silent for you.

“But..”

You stare at him with teary eyes and a strained expression. “I’m so happy.. I’m so happy you’re changing.. to bring yourself back into my life.”

Mihawk widens his eyes just slightly, feeling an unknown heavy weight lifting off of his shoulders.

And he certainly didn’t expect you to wrap your arms around his waist tightly and hug him.

Though he was a bit uncomfortable since it was so sudden, and he wasn’t the affectionate type all too much, he quickly relaxed and wrapped his arms back around you.

“Thank you..father..”

“I should be thanking you, [Name].. for giving me a chance to be your father once more.”

His comment only made you lean closer into his touch as you shut your eyes tightly, sniffles being heard from you and staining his shirt.

But he didn’t care. Mihawk was happy. Happy to have you back into his life, and getting a second chance at fatherhood.

bonus :

Perona and Zoro peek into the room from the door and watch the two hugging in the center of the room. On top of Zoro’s head sat your raven, using his hair as a nest.

“So who the hell is that?” Zoro bluntly questions and Perona flicked his head and hissed to shut him up, successfully making him quiet.

“That’s his kid, you moron!” She whispers out harshly to him as she turns back to the two.

“Why the hell is his kid here?” Zoro mutters quietly, rubbing his head, but he only received a smack.

A/N : ooc~ also wth, this is so much longer than intended— and ugh I told myself to keep it short and do headcannons so I have more time to post but ahhhhhhh ;-; this is a little rushed too~ TuT

Also let me know which way is better for posting fics. Answering it in a ask or posting it as a separate post and copying / pasting the request like so? ^ thank you!

god, I’m so soft for some platonic relationships right now, like, I’m thinking about making an event for that, when it’s near March. But I’m already doing an event for my birthday AND White Day, in March so idk :((

[hes-writer]

Trial (4)

Summary: harry and y/n face the truth

Warnings: angst, a tiny bit of fluff

Word Count: 4249 words

A/N: thank you so much for supporting this series !! @devilinbetweenthesheet-s. I will do the taglist later in the day :)

EDIT: idk why the ‘read more’ is not working. I apologize for the scrolling!!

Part 4 of the Tarnish series!

___

Harry was crying.

Admitting his feelings when he was younger was quite a task for him. Now that he was nearly in his thirties, the journey of being vulnerable with himself and with his feelings became easier with each emotion that he permitted himself to submerge in. Harry validated those emotions--he was allowed to experience them because it makes him human. It added texture to the ever-growing mosaic that painted who he was as an individual. Adding to the people that surrounded him, influenced by their kind-nature and the goodness of their heart to become who he was now.

And now, it seemed like his emotions increased tenfold. The clench of his abdomen and the harsh jolt of his chest forced his slouched shoulder to stay deflated. His breathing hitched as sobs threatened to take over, throat sore with the effort to keep it all in because Harry was smart enough to know that these emotions coursing through him right now were ones he wasn’t validated to feel. Paired with the latest information that that little girl being held by another man was his own daughter--and that the woman who was glowing with her caring, motherly-instincts was supposed to be his family; it broke him completely. 

Quaking thoughts circled his brain and punctured his muscles as if they were attacking him not only mentally, but physically as well in exchange for his past mistakes that he couldn’t quite place if he deeply regretted or not. Was it a mistake to cheat on Y/N? To leave her alone in the exposure of the public eye while she was carrying his child in her tummy? 

Harry should have known the day she fell sick and vomited in their kitchen sink. He was, sadly, too busy throwing a subdued celebration of finally having time alone with Camille. He should have noticed the way her face brightened with radiance. Or the way her cravings for strawberries and pickles either grossed her out or completely compelled her to consume more than she usually would. 

But Harry guessed that that was around the time his efforts went out the window because he didn’t have to pretend to care as much anymore. Camille appeared to be his one and only. With their relationship coming so close to being revealed and Y/N having one foot out the door, Harry let fate play out the rest. Don’t get him wrong, Harry still loved Camille; that was why his slashed heart still throbbed at the sight of her watching over her little cousin, yet knowing that the topic of children was still not a card on the table. 

The distress that he was feeling right now was core-shredding, heartbreaking grief that left a hole in his heart. The worst part was that Harry didn’t exactly know how to fix it or whether he even could. As he walked to his car with hands jammed into his pockets, he was grateful that the hood of his sweater hid his face and the tears sliding down the slope of his cheeks.

His senses were in overdrive, figuring out how to fix the mess he created. Wanting to run up to Y/N and ask her why she didn’t tell him, needing to feel his little girl in his arms. Pinching his skin to transfer the pain he felt in his heart because of the thought that he missed his baby’s first words, her first steps. Was it ‘dada’ that babbled out of her mouth? Did she reach out for Connor when she stumbled over nothing when she walked on stubby legs? Did Y/N mention his name to her?

“Harry!” 

He kept on walking despite the hushed call of his name, assuming that it was a fan that caught sight of him and wanted a picture. Harry adores them, but now is hardly the time to fake a smile or act like his life didn’t just flash right before his eyes--quite literally. 

The vehicle beeped as Harry pressed the ‘unlock’ button on his key fob, just about ready to pull the door open and shield himself from prying eyes. He flinched when a hand fell on his shoulder, “Harry,” 

He looked up to find Gemma panting, resting her hand on the roof of the car, “Are you. . .alright?” Her drifting eyes inspected his face, tinted a slight pink and moist with the salty liquid dripping from his tear ducts.

Huffing in annoyance, Harry clutched the handle to let himself in. Gemma followed his actions, shutting the door and locking it. The tinted windows of the car provided a semi-private enclosure that was filled with Harry’s sniffling and Gemma’s heavy breathing, trying to catch her breath. 

“H-her name is Halo,” Gemma began, gulping when Harry paused his ministrations, straining his ears to listen despite the dull thud occupying his vessels. “She’s almost two years old,”

“You said you didn’t know,” Harry’s gruff tone echoed. Gemma anxiously rubbed the ends of her palms against her jeans. “Why didn’t you tell me? You knew all this time and y’didn’t tell me,”

“I-I was--she didn’t want me--” 

“Why would she tell you and not me? I’m the one that dated her,” He raised his voice with every syllable he spoke. The frustration he felt from seeing the woman he once loved living the reality they shared together, except he wasn’t anywhere in the picture and that reality was only a fantasy in his life now. “It doesn’t make sense,” He rested his forearms on the wheel, facing the car’s symbol.

“The baby is yours, Harry,”

His head quipped with speed, grazing his forehead on the rounded leather but that pain didn’t amount to the new wave washing over him. “W-what?”

“It’s really not my place to tell,” Gemma said nervously, making eye contact with Harry’s searing yet teary gaze. “She wanted to tell you but you were so happy with Camille. She was posting these things on her Instagram about your trips and Y/N called me crying because you looked so free and happy without her. Y/N didn’t want to ruin what you guys had by dropping this on you,”

"That's-that's my baby?" Harry stuttered over his words while tugging his head out of his memories. Gemma nodded in confirmation. “Then why in the world was she--Halo?--calling him ‘dada’? 

“Look, Harry, you’re not stupid. You know why Halo called Connor her dad,” Gemma spoke slowly, “This is a conversation that you need to have with Y/N if she lets you,”

At the mention of the man’s name, Harry couldn’t help but be filled with anger. He barely knew this man yet he received everything that Harry wanted in life. ‘But she’s my kid. I’m her dad. I’m the one who’s supposed to give her kisses and make her laugh,” He mumbled quietly as if his inner thoughts were far too strong to be kept in his mind

He was staring mindlessly at the numbers on his dashboard, hands gripping the leather steering wheel to try and ground himself. "But if that's my baby, how can she call someone who's not her father, dad?" He whipped his head towards Gemma, searching for validation that would make him feel better but the siblings were aware that he lost that title three years ago. 

“I think you know you lost that place in their lives,” She reached a comforting hand to pat his arm, feeling just how tense he was under the fabric.

Harry shrugged her off, pinching his brows and pursing his lips as sadness began to swirl down the drain only to be replaced with resentment, irritation and bitterness. The taste on his tongue was hot with anger and his ears felt warm as he wheezed air instead of opting to yell his dissatisfaction near his sister. 

“This isn't fair. She's m’baby too. Connor is not her father,” He spat with venom, “I am,” A pointed finger poked his chest. "She knew she was pregnant when she left me. She’s so fuckin’ selfish. How could she do this to me? 

Gemma was quick to remind him of his actions, "You cheated on her, Harry.” Gemma cowered back at Harry’s beady eyes glaring at her with an unreadable emotion, stone-cold. “Maybe you should go home. Calm down a little bit,”

“No!” Harry cut Gemma off, “Need t’a hear her say it myself,” 

Harry didn’t know what his plan was when he harshly slammed the car door behind him, practically storming on the patches of grass like a mad man. It wasn’t hard to spot the picture-perfect family sitting on a park bench which brought a scowl to his shielded face. He wanted to give Y/N a piece of his mind and it wasn’t necessarily the nicest thoughts that crossed his brain. 

Halo was sitting on Connor’s lap while he was feeding her a peeled cupcake. Red velvet with cream cheese frosting—-Harry felt like he was punched in the gut. The baked good was Y/N’s specialty and it had a lot of sentimental value to both of them. It was what she baked for their first year together. He could vividly see her frosting-dotted nose, aiming to splotch the cream on his cheek while she laughed. Harry wrapped his arms around her, hugging Y/N from behind and proceeding to kiss her sweet cheek, leaving the perfect opportunity to stain his skin with the frosting. 

But he didn’t care if he was smashed headfirst into the cake (as long as it wasn’t ice cream cake)—Harry just wanted to see her smile and hear her laugh heartily. 

Y/N was snuggled on Connor’s shoulder, fixing Halo’s hair as she made grabby hands at the confection. He cannot lie--Connor was a handsome man. Harry rarely felt intimidated or insecure, but seeing that this man managed to snatch everything Harry could ever want seemingly in a blink of an eye; Harry felt very jealous. 

He pouted, eyes rimmed red and lips quivering wishing that Cory or Connor--whatever that little shit’s name was would disappear so that Harry could take his place instead. Actually, it was his spot in the first place. Only if he didn’t mess up, he thought. He missed Y/N so much! Seeing Y/N in her element of niceness and bright-gleaming smiles sent a truck full of sand down his throat as he gulped his emotion below the surface. The closer he got to them, his vision tunnelled towards Halo; brown, flouncy curls and a cute dimple embedded in her cheek as she giggled, accidentally knocking the cupcake on the ground.  

If that wasn’t symbolism staring at Harry straight in the face; a sign that their so-called relationship really had no chance of reprieve. Harry chose to ignore it.

Connor clutched Halo tightly against him, crouching down with a napkin to clean up the scattered cake on the ground. Y/N was the first to notice him, her forehead creasing as her eyes bulged at the sight of Harry walking towards them. She subtly poked at Connor’s arm, hurting Harry even more because it meant that Y/N felt uncomfortable with his presence. 

He was close enough to read her pink lips, “We should go,” matched with Y/N’s frantic actions of packing the juice boxes and the Tupperware of cupcakes into the tote bag beside her. Connor searched the park until his gaze landed on Harry, protectively shielding Halo from him. 

Is he serious? Harry thought. That’s my own daughter.

Speaking of Halo, the two-year-old happily continued munching on her new cupcake, frowning slightly when Connor stood up, “Why we leaving, Daddy? Did I do somethin’ bad?”

Y/N sighed, they promised that Halo could play at the park all day and now it was cut short because of a certain someone. 

“No, you didn’t, bub. Let Daddy explain at home, okay baby?” Connor hitched Halo higher on his hip, hoping that she wouldn’t ask any more questions until the trio left.

“Who’s that?” Halo asked, pointing at Harry only metres away from them. Her stubby finger outstretched at the stranger in front of her, eyes bright and sparkling with curiosity. There was no sign of recognition painting her green orbs. 

Harry gulped, wanting so badly to scream “I’m your dad!” but he knew that Y/N will add that to the list of his mistakes he had made. 

“No one, angel,” Connor planted a kiss on her head, looking over at Y/N who had finished packing everything up. He tilted his chin in an attempt to scare Harry off.

But the thing was, Harry was already scared. He could feel his stomach in his throat but vomiting wasn’t the right word to describe it. His heart drooped deeper than the levels of the Earth. He was scared because his family was right in front of him but he couldn’t touch them or hug them in his arms. He was only allowed to look from the outside because there was a small possibility of being forgiven.

“Y/N. . .” Harry began hesitantly. The surge of confidence he had decreased with each passing second. He kept a close eye.

Y/N shrugged the strap on her shoulder, “Leave us alone, Harry.”

He felt his anger disappearing, a new emotion cascading his tear ducts and the blood in his veins. Harry looked back in retrospect; she really did mean it when Y/N said that she never wanted him around again. “I just want to talk. Please, let’s talk,”

“She doesn’t want to talk to you, Harry,”  Connor interrupted, grabbing the bag from Y/N and wrapping an arm over her shoulder, guiding them away from Harry. “She’s happy without you, mate. can’t you see?”

Harry kept his gaze trained on Y/N’s face, actively avoiding eye contact but drifted when Halo’s frown caught his stare. The little girl’s chin was hooked over Connor’s shoulder, squirming in his arms in an attempt to stop him from walking. Halo was smart enough to know that Harry’s expression screamed sadness and her mummy said that “you need to find a way to make them happy” if someone was sad.

“Wait!” Her shrill yell caused both Connor and Y/N to turn around. A piece of Harry’s heart shattered on the floor when Halo pulled Connor down by the nape of his neck, small hand leading his ear next to her lips. Then, she did the same to Y/N, pointing at Harry which caused him to straighten his stance, wanting to impress his daughter even though there was no point.

The couple shared a look before ultimately having Connor walk closer to Harry. Halo gripped her cupcake towards him, “‘ere y’go hawwy,’ She still couldn’t pronounce her ‘r’s’ yet. 

Harry began to sob. 

It was his daughter and those were the first words she had uttered to him. She didn’t know him yet Halo treated him with kindness and it ripped at his chest because Y/N must’ve taught her that. His palms became wet as tears streamed from his eyes, dampening the sleeves of his hoodie. He didn't care about looking foolish in front of them, not when his daughter saw him as a stranger and called Connor her ‘dada’. 

Halo recoiled at the sudden reaction, her lips curving downwards, “Dada, mama, he’s cwyin’,” She tucked her face at the junction of Connor’s shoulder and neck, scared that she made him cry. Halo didn’t mean to make him cry. She felt so guilty that she started spilling tears of her own too, her face contorting into a scrunched expression as her mouth wailed open sobs, matching Harry’s. 

Harry’s first instinct was to take a step forward and comfort Halo but he was rendered frozen when Connor shot him a glare, shifting Halo’s body out of reach and he could only see her face over the man’s shoulder. Y/N dimmed her eyes, brows pinching when she couldn’t help but let a smidge of sympathy wash over her. She muttered a few words to Connor, pushing him by the small of his back towards the parking lot. 

When they were out of earshot, Y/N faced Harry, “What were you thinking? Are you trying to mess everything up again?” He tried to cut in, “Isn’t it bad enough that we’re talking about this in public? Why must you ruin everything, Harry?” She whisper-shouted, trying her best not to garner them any attention. 

“N-no, Gemma told me and I jus’ wanted to see her--and you. Wanted to hear the truth come out of your mouth,” His large hands jammed into his pockets to prevent him from fiddling with them. 

“Look, you have no right coming here,”

“I know that b-but I--,”

She held a palm up, “I’m not sadistic like you Harry. If you thought that I wouldn’t let you around her then you’re wrong. As much as I hate to admit it, I do miss you and I wish that you were there for us when we needed you,”

“I had no idea--,”

“Will you let me speak?” Her tone carried irritation. “But we’re alright now and we don’t need you anymore.”

Harry never thought that those statements would ever come out of Y/N’s mouth. “Don’t you think I deserve to get to know her?” 

She sighed, “Deserve? Definitely not.” He nodded in agreement. “But I’d live in regret if Halo never got to know her real father. . .”

Harry’s expression lit up, hopeful eyes shooting glances at her, “D-does that mea--? Are you--?”

“You can see her. You can get to know her but only because you’re Halo’s father,” Y/N took a brave step forward, ignoring the way her heart throbbed as if she was being stabbed by a thousand knives. Painful memories drifted in and out of her train of thought until she shook her head to muster them out. It was in the past but she could never forget the feeling of hopelessness taking over her whole body. 

With a hand on his shoulder, she continued, “Anyone can be a father and you’re just that. Don’t think that you’re entitled to anything more. You will never be her dad. Connor is. Understood?”

Harry took a deep breath and swallowed a heavy gulp, “I. . .understand. Thank you, Y/N. For letting me back in when I don’t deserve it,” He glanced at the two tiny figures piling in the car. He could just imagine himself plucking little Halo into her booster seat, booping her nose as she asked for the hundredth time why she had to sit at the back and not at the front with them. 

“I’m not finished,” She deadpanned, “You are going to be there for her. Not for me, not for us because our relationship is over. You can hurt me as you did before and I can accept it but don’t you dare try to hurt her,” 

And it was true. Having endured his painful game once before, Y/N was stronger now. She could take heartbreak as agonizing as that but she wouldn’t dare stand seeing Halo’s teary eyes staring back at her, asking why Harry had left them. She was far too young to experience the feeling when a piece of herself is ripped apart. 

“I won’t hurt her. I promise,”

“I heard those words come out from your mouth years ago and look where we are now. Once you hurt her, it’s over.”

“Y/N, t-that’s hardly fair. I am her dad, aren’t I?” Harry cleared his throat at Y/N’s raised brow.

“No, you’re not. We just went through this, Harry.”

“Don’t call me that,” He muttered quietly because she only ever called him ‘baby’ or ‘h’.

“Will you stop? I laid out my cards. If you want to even have a speck of presence in her life, then you have to abide by what I said,” She crossed her arms in defence, “You will never be Halo’s dad, Harry. Connor is her dad. I don’t know how many more times I have to repeat this before it gets through you thick head,”

He opened his mouth to talk, “No wiggle room whatsoever?”

“No. Do I have to write a letter for you to understand that?”

In a moment of hurt and despair, Harry spat out, “Might as well, yeah? Waited over two years to tell me anyway,”

“Are you kidding me?”

His throat ran dry, realizing that he just ticked another box to favour against being a part of his daughter’s life, “I-I’m sorry. I didn't mean to,”

“Whatever. Are you willing to make the sacrifice?”

“This isn’t the place to talk about this,” Harry suggested, wanting to have some sort of foot on the ground so he doesn’t feel like he’s topping over with guilt and sadness. “Maybe you can come over to my house,”

Y/N shook her head, glancing briefly at her phone when it buzzed, “No. I will not step foot in that house again. If you really want to discuss it, you can come over at our place,”

“Your place?” Did they all live together? Well, that was another slap to the face. Not only was Connor playing dad to Halo, but he was also part of the household. Harry’s face must have contorted into a grimace because Y/N sighed softly. 

“Yes, our place. Meaning all three of us,” She gestured behind her. “I have to go. You can probably get my number from Gemma; you can text me then.”

“Yes, yes! Of course, I want to talk to you. . . about this, I mean,” Harry lowered his enthusiasm. The small voice in his head reverberating that this was not about him and Y/N; this was about Halo. 

“And make sure you don’t bring anyone else,” Y/N said sarcastically, subtly pointing in the direction of the paparazzi hiding behind some bushes. Harry was usually good at spotting them but today was just a puddle of hurt and confusion. “I don’t want her having to read nasty things like I did,”

What Y/N said may have been a side comment, but Harry couldn’t help but take it to heart. Was this a good idea? Sure, he wanted to be a present dad in Halo’s life. However, is it worth it to stir unwanted drama? If only he didn’t cheat on Y/N, all of this could have been avoided. 

With his mind in a haze, Harry barely noticed Y/N’s figure moving away from him. He jogged to catch up with her, laying a gentle hand on her shoulder. Harry felt numb to the way she shrugged her touch off of her immediately, “Were you ever going to tell me about our daughter?’

Y/N stared at him quizzically, tilting her head a little bit sideways, “I thought I did? Wait!” A look of recognition plastered across her features, “I did try to tell you but you blocked me before the message sent through,”

Harry gulped with realization. He blearily remembered  bitterly blocking her number just as she texted “I need to tell you something,”

___

Y/N: Since you’re not picking up my calls

I need to tell you something

Y/N took a deep breath as her thumbs tapped on the letters slowly as if to withhold the news from him. She was not at all ready to reveal that she was pregnant and that he was the father but Y/N knew that it was the right thing to do. Despite the fact that he was currently out of the country on vacation somewhere on an island with sandy beaches with Camille. Y/N was aware that this spike of courage was rare and so, she had to do it now.

Y/N: I’m pregnant

And you’re the father

She locked the device as soon as she pressed the arrow to send the message, clutching the phone close to her chest and shutting her eyes so tightly that it hurt. Minutes passed with no response and Y/N was shouldered by curiosity to check if he had sent anything back or simply left her on ‘seen’. 

It was neither. The screaming red exclamation mark surrounded by a circle indicated that she had been blocked. 

___

The times when she left missed calls on his phone were for a reason much bigger than the two of them. Y/N didn’t call to beg for him back or to ask Harry to want her again. He was ashamed to admit that he had rolled his eyes upwards every time he clicked on a voicemail she had left, stating, “Hey H, it’s me. Call me back when you hear this. I need to talk to you,” which he deleted without a second thought. She didn’t text him endlessly to politely ask for her things packed and settled for her pick-up because Y/N could not bear to spend another second in a room with him.

It wasn’t that at all. 

Y/N was physically moving farther and farther away from him, settling herself into the car before driving off to hers and Connor’s shared house. Halo sat in the backseat, singing along to the radio.

Harry was surrounded amidst the joyful squeals of children and reprimanding voices of their parents.

He stood alone with no one but loneliness by his side and the brisk flash of cameras in his peripherals.

_____

Let me know what you thought!

———

Permanent Taglist: @splendidsunsetx @swagmoneymaya @textingharry @arypesanchez @theresthingsthatwellneverknow @mellamolayla @luviewoo

[retro-scorpio]

The Arcana Meets The Devildom (Part Seven)

The Evolution of MC’s Relationship With The Residents of The House of Lamentation

Author’s Note: Even though the MC described in the following post will be based on myself, I will not be using my actual name, a fictional name, or gendered pronouns for MC at this time. I still want it to be accessible to people, and I feel like giving a name/gendered pronouns to my version of MC will remove a layer of that accessibility. Plus, it will (hopefully) allow people to insert themselves, their version of MC, and/or their OC into this if they so choose. Also, this is going to end up being a long post that uses explicit language, so if that’s not your thing, you can just scroll past this.

Fictional Backstory: Upon dying from the Red Plague, MC finds themselves not in the afterworld that they had familiarized themselves with, but plopped down in the student council room of the Royal Academy of Diavolo with only the memories of the faces they left behind in Vesuvia and the knowledge of the magic they learned while they were still ‘”alive”. Once MC passes through the portal to return to the human world after their second stint in the Devildom, they find themselves back in Vesuvia due to Asra raising them from the “dead”. Neither the residents of Vesuvia nor the Devildom know that they’ve dealt with the same MC until after Julian, Asra, and Lucio’s arrival to the Devildom. Let’s just say everyone was in for a treat when their beloved MC strolled into the residence they were visiting and said hello to the Vesuvian person in the room.

Julian: MC’s main lover in Vesuvia. MC actually developed a crush on the plague doctor when they were his apprentice, but due to the relationship they had with Asra at the time, they kept their feelings to themselves. What MC likes the most about Julian (besides his good looks) is his sense of humor, because it shows the full range of his personality: intelligent and witty yet goofy and a little stupid. When it comes to bedroom activities, MC and Julian keep things fresh and exciting. There are times where they’ll do the good ol’ missionary sex, times where Julian will fuck MC silly (usually after an evening show at the community theater in Goldgrave when Julian just has so much adrenaline from acting on stage that he can’t sit still), and times where MC will edge Julian and make him beg for his orgasm. 

Out of the three Vesuvian men, Julian is the most understanding and accepting of MC pursuing other people romantically during their stay in the Devildom. To paraphrase Julian, MC was considered dead in Vesuvia for the three years MC spent in this other world, and his relationship with MC didn’t start until after MC rose from the dead/returned from the Devildom, so he considers it a part of MC’s past that they should not feel ashamed of. MC enjoys the fact that Julian gets on with her Devildom friends/lovers as well as he does for a variety of reasons (as you, the reader, will see unfold in this post and in others).

Lucifer: MC’s main lover in the Devildom. MC developed a crush on the eldest demon brother pretty much the moment they set eyes on him, but unfortunately for MC, Lucifer initially saw them as a weak human exchange student that he was forced to take care of. Lucifer’s impression of MC only worsened when they went up the stairs to the attic, and MC was incredibly heartbroken and pissed when they found out that Lucifer was the one responsible for locking Belphie up in the attic and deceiving the other brothers about Belphie’s whereabouts. These feelings culminate in the underground tomb. MC, incredibly angry at Lucifer and yet (somehow) wanting to gain his approval, wraps Lucifer’s hands around their neck and dares him/gives him permission to kill them as punishment for allowing Luke access to the House of Lamentation and dragging Beel in their shenanigans. 

Initially after this incident, Lucifer and MC wanted very little to do with each other, but as time wore on, they slowly grew closer to one another. MC’s crush on Lucifer resumed, albeit cautiously, and Lucifer started developing feelings of his own towards MC, although he would have never admitted that to himself or anyone else, not even Asmo (who sensed Lucifer’s crush on MC perhaps even before Lucifer himself did). Perhaps Asmo was on to something, because why would Lucifer feel as betrayed as he did when MC told him that they had met Belphegor? Sure, he felt that MC had just put his entire family at risk of experiencing Diavolo’s wrath, which is a decent enough reason to become irate at someone, but there was something else that was feeding into his anger as well, something that was related to love. MC, in a fit of passion and after Mammon, Levi, Satan, Asmo, and Beel entered the room and tried to stop Lucifer from annihilating MC, grabbed a nearby knife and chopped two of their fingers off, staring Lucifer dead in the face and not shedding a single tear (due to adrenaline numbing the pain). 

Once the situation with Belphegor was resolved and the youngest brother was allowed to live with the rest of his family again, Lucifer calls MC into his study and put their fingers back on with some sewing and a bit of magic. Just as MC is about to leave, Lucifer tells MC that he’s sorry. MC, understand that it takes a lot for the Avatar of Pride to apologize, forgives him, and Lucifer thanks them for their forgiveness. This interaction would be the catalyst for their romantic relationship, and they would eventually repeat this exchange when MC is about to kill Lucifer with the Night Dagger.

Lucifer and MC’s romantic relationship is one built on admiration for each other. Get Lucifer drunk on Demonus, and he’ll blab all about how much he adores everything about MC. The pair can usually be found in one of four places at the House: Lucifer’s study, the library, the music room, and Lucifer’s bedroom. The library and music room are safe places for the couple to be discovered in, for they’re either reading (library) or listening to the other play music (music room). Lucifer’s study is a bit of a gamble, for they could either be working on paperwork/schoolwork in each other’s company, or Lucifer could have MC bent over his desk and ramming his dick in and out of them.

As for Lucifer’s bedroom, it’s best for everyone involved if no one disturbs Lucifer and MC. Most of the time, Lucifer uses his bedroom to explore MC’s kinks. About half the time, it gets sexual; the other half is mere discovery of what MC likes and what MC deems as limits. Sometimes, when Lucifer just wants to be close to MC, they will do the good ol’ missionary. MC is one of two people that can get Lucifer to submit to them, and that happens only when the eldest demon brother wants a break from being in charge of everything.

Lucifer was pleased to find out that not only did MC and Julian know each other, but that they started a romantic relationship when MC returned to Vesuvia. Since Julian is (sort of) the Vesuvian version of him, it raises his pride (and ego) to discover that they both fit MC’s type. If MC doesn’t bring the idea up first, he might just suggest bringing Julian into some of their bedroom activities.

Mammon: One of MC’s fuck buddies in the Devildom. Initially, Mammon and MC vehemently hated each other. Mammon thought that MC was a pretentious snob, and MC believed Mammon to be a complete and utter asshole. Whenever they were near each other, they would inevitably butt heads and argue loudly, to the annoyance and shock of everyone else.

One of these arguments occurs in Mammon’s room. Lucifer had sent MC in there to help tutor Mammon, since they were doing well in the classes that Mammon was failing. MC gets frustrated that Mammon isn’t even trying to get the material, and Mammon accuses MC of only helping him in order to stay on Lucifer’s good side. MC lets a compliment slip when they yell at Mammon, “If I didn’t think there was a way for you to wrap your brain around this, I wouldn’t still be here!” Mammon stares at MC as MC processes what they just said, and the pair are so still and quiet that someone could hear a pin drop. Then, as if someone hit the fast forward button, Mammon pounces on MC, and they aggressively make out. Thirty minutes later, both are a naked, sweaty mess on Mammon’s couch, and the room reeks of what they’ve just done. Thank goodness demons can only impregnate when it’s mating season...

When Mammon isn’t fucking the shit out of MC (which is what usually happens when MC and Mammon get together sexually, despite popular belief), the pair is seen tinkering around with Mammon’s car. While MC does still tutor Mammon at times, Mammon’s (finally) at a point where he’s at least passing all of his classes. Mammon sometimes takes MC out with him to his modeling gigs, which has resulted in MC ending up on the cover of a couple magazines.

When Mammon found out about MC’s other life in Vesuvia, he initially got really jealous of Julian, but that feeling quickly got replaced with something else when he found out about the nature of MC and Lucio’s relationship. In his ongoing attempt of earning all the Grimm in the world, Mammon gets the “brilliant” idea to film a really filthy porno starring him, Lucio, and MC (with MC’s consent, of course). Mammon also likes taking naps with MC and Julian for some reason that he still doesn’t quite understand.

Levi: One of MC’s friends in the Devildom that they hooked up with once. Levi hated MC long after the TSL trivia showdown, and MC had no idea why. At first, MC chalked up Levi’s hatred towards them to his feelings about losing to someone he deemed inferior to him, but as time went on and Levi still was acting cold towards them, MC felt that there was something else that was upsetting Levi. As it turns out, it all boiled down to Levi’s sin: envy. Levi was jealous of MC on a multitude of levels. He saw how MC was acing the subjects that he struggled in; he saw how well MC got along with everyone; and he even saw how easy it was for MC to express their feelings for someone. Long story short, Levi felt inadequate against and unworthy of spending time with MC, and he hated both himself and MC for it.

All it took for him to change his mind was an impromptu family gaming night in Levi’s room. The game? DarioKart (the Devildom equivalent of MarioKart). Levi was winning every single race he was in, even against decent racers like MC, Beel, and Lucifer. Asmo, being the Avatar of Lust, was the first to discover that Levi’s skills at DarioKart was causing MC to, shall we say, look at the third-eldest demon brother in a new light. At Asmo’s advice, MC whispered in Levi’s ear that if he won the next race he competed in, they would make this a night to remember. MC gave him a kiss on the cheek, and that was enough motivation for him to destroy his opponents in his next race. With Lucifer (who was in the loop due to Asmo having a quiet conversation with him during the race) and Asmo’s help, Levi and MC were able to have some privacy.

Once everyone’s out of the room, MC moves from their spot on the floor and straddles Levi’s lap, which causes Levi to turn red and begin stuttering. MC moves Levi’s fringe out of his eyes and tells him how hot Levi was, winning so many times. Before Levi can reply, MC leans in and kisses him. Unsurprisingly, Levi’s shy at first, because he’s scared that MC’s going to pull away in disgust or that he’s going to wake up and find out that all of this was a dream; however, when neither one of those things happens, Levi gets more bold as he gains confidence. This slow, sensuous make-out session eventually leads to MC blowing him in his gaming chair, and after that evening Levi starts treating MC nicely (for some totally unknown reason (ha ha)). There is not a second sexual encounter, but Levi’s perfectly content with the one. All he needs MC to do is to hang out with him and watch anime and/or play video games.

Levi was excited when he found out that MC knew Julian and Asra, because that meant that he could invite the three of them to his room and know that they genuinely wanted to be there. Sure, Henry 2.0 is a nice enough friend, but Levi comes to discover that having human friends is just as good as having an animal companion.

Satan: MC’s (kind of) ex-turned-best-friend. MC first had their eyes on Satan when they entered his room for the first time and saw the sheer volume of books he had in his possession. MC’s crush on Satan grew when he was a guest speaker in their curses and hexes class. To put it simply, MC found Satan’s intelligence incredibly sexy. Similarly, when Satan was tasked with proofreading MC’s Devildom Literature essay, he discovered that the quality of writing was as good as his, that the points MC made in the essay were intelligent and pertinent to the topic of their essay, and that they had no grammatical, spelling, or formatting mistakes, he nearly busted a nut right there in the classroom.

MC and Satan’s romantic relationship blossomed after the incident that occurred between MC and Lucifer in the underground tomb, and the pairing was (surprisingly) a healthy one. Satan looked out for MC and defended them whenever Lucifer was criticizing them (both in front of MC and behind their back), and MC helped Satan to not only discover his own identity outside of being Lucifer’s spawn and the Avatar of Wrath, but to accept the parts of him that didn’t fit into either one of those titles. While the sex wasn’t the type to be described in erotica, it was definitely full of love from both parties.

Satan and MC broke up on good terms a couple days after Lucifer mended MC’s hand. Due to the fourth demon brother’s relationship with Asmo, he knew that, even though MC did love Satan and enjoyed being in a romantic relationship with him, their heart truly belonged to Lucifer. While the old Satan would have hated MC (for falling for Lucifer) and Lucifer (for taking MC away from him), the ‘new’ Satan was at peace with the whole thing. If there was anyone that he would want to see MC happy with (that wasn’t him), it was Lucifer. Satan knew that, once the foundation was laid, Lucifer would care for MC just as deeply as he did. Plus, it would be weird for MC to continue dating him when they’re trying to start a relationship with someone who’s technically his dad.

Satan and MC can usually be found in a quiet corner of RAD or the House, studying, reading, writing, and/or debating (depending on the day). They enjoy each other’s company, and they’re able to bond over their love of learning and books. When the demon brothers were under the influence of the Gold Hellfire Newt Syrup and MC had to give each of them an order in order to them to snap out of it, MC had Satan kiss them on the cheek, figuring that it was intimate enough to break the spell the syrup had caused without creating an emotional mess.

Satan’s one of the few people in the Devildom that gets along with all three of the Vesuvian men, which is a huge relief for MC. MC finds the notebooks Satan has that document tales that he’s heard Julian, Asra, and Lucio told, and after skimming through the notes that the Avatar of Wrath has written in the margins, MC concludes that Satan has a crush on the three men. With Satan’s permission (for MC would have kept their mouth shut about the whole thing if Satan didn’t want the Vesuvian men to know that he has a crush on them), MC tells Asra, Lucio, and Julian about Satan’s feelings. 

Bonus: Lucio’s the most surprised out of the three of them, for he had no idea that the most quiet demon brother felt that way about him. Unfortunately for Satan, Lucio does not feel the same. Julian’s flattered by Satan’s crush, and unlike Lucio, the plague doctor allows Satan to kiss him. However, once Julian and Satan pull away, Satan realizes that he has more feelings towards the idea of Julian and what Julian represents than Julian himself. And then there’s Asra. If Solomon and Lucio were the first Devildom/Vesuvia pairing to hook up, Asra and Satan are the second (although they might just become the first Devildom/Vesuvian couple). It’s almost like they needed MC’s permission in order to do anything sexual with each other...

Asmo: MC’s friend and the only brother they have not hooked up with. It always amazes people to find out that the Avatar of Lust hasn’t made any actual sexual advances towards MC, but it is indeed the truth. Sure, Asmo may say dirty things to MC, and he has given them a kiss or two on the lips, but he doesn’t feel the need to go further than that. Asmo’s perhaps the most sensitive when it comes to picking up his sin in other people, and so whenever MC feels turned on by something or someone, the fifth-eldest demon brother takes note. 

The main thing that Asmo does for MC, besides inviting them to spa days and fancy events/parties/networking opportunities, is give them advice on their love life. Since MC is so nice to him throughout their Devildom stay, Asmo wants to return the favor, and he loves helping people, especially when it comes to romance. He was the one that got MC and Satan to sit down together and reveal their feelings for each other after the underground tomb incident, and he also acted like a mediator for Lucifer and MC, ultimately encouraging them to get over their nervousness and start going out with each other (once the situation with Belphie was resolved).

Upon finding out that MC knew the Vesuvian men, Asmo had a lot of questions. Is Julian straight? (no) Am I Julian’s type? (I don’t know) Could MC please ask Julian if I’m his type? (couldn’t you ask him yourself?) How about Asra? (he’s definitely not straight) Has MC witnessed the way Asra acts around me? (very flirty) Is he like that with everyone? (no) Does MC think that Asra’s trying to fuck me? (again, why don’t you ask him?) Is Lucio gay? (no, but he isn’t straight, either; not a whole lot of people in Vesuvia are) Does that mean that MC isn’t straight? (that would be correct) What’s the deal between Asra and Julian? (I believe they were lovers while I was here in the Devildom and they thought that I was dead) How was their relationship? (Toxic; Asra took advantage of Julian) Would Asra do that to me? (I don’t think so; he’s in a healthier place mentally) What about Asra and Lucio? (Lucio took Asra’s parents away from him during his dealings with the Devil) Diavolo?! (No, not Diavolo; a Major Arcana called the Devil)

Beel: MC’s friend with eventual benefits. Contrary to the popular belief that Beel is a giant meathead, he’s actually quite smart. Sure, he may not get the best grades in school, but if someone starts a philosophical conversation with him, he’s not only able to follow along but offer intelligent insights of his own. Some of this knowledge is due to the amount of time he spends with Belphie and (by proxy) Satan, but a lot of it is thanks to research he’s managed to do between eating, doing homework, and playing sports/working out. Philosophy interests the Avatar of Gluttony, particularly when it comes to that practiced in the human world. This is what ultimately piques MC’s interest in Beel, although his looks and offers of sharing and trying new food certainly doesn’t ruin things.

For a while, MC and Beel were perfectly content with being friends. But then the second aphrodisiac incident happened. The first was when the brothers ingested the Gold Hellfire Newt Syrup; the second (which is this writer’s headcanon) is when MC accidentally drinks one of Asmo’s beverages that happened to have an ingredient that made the average human consumer very, very horny (it was an honest mistake, really; how was MC supposed to know that a Devildom version of their favorite smoothie would have that kind of an effect on them?) Beel was the only one home with MC when the aphrodisiac started to affect them, and so he was the one they had to go to in order to get some kind of relief. And he did exactly that.

You see, another not-so-well-known fact about Beel (unless one happens to asks Asmo about it) is that he loves the taste of cum. It doesn’t matter where it comes from (both from an anatomical and racial (angel/demon/human) standpoint); the moment it hits his tongue, Beel’s going to consume as much of it as he possibly can. To put it simply, the Avatar of Gluttony’s ability to suck dick and eat pussy rivals Asmo (because of his sin) and Lucifer’s (because he’s the eldest). He can go for hours if one allows him to do so. For this reason, MC and Beel’s relationship turns sexual, although there’s a bit of a mental hang up for Beel when it comes to MC reciprocating. It’s not that MC’s not willing to return the favor; Beel just feels like the point of that part of their relationship is for him to give them pleasure.

Outside of the sexual context, Beel and MC can often be found in the twins’ room, the attic, the kitchen, the roof of the House, or RAD’s gym. The roof and gym are the only two places where the two of them can get some alone time, because Belphie frequently tags along when they hang out in the other places; the roof is where a lot of Beel and MC’s conversations about philosophy happen, and the gym is where they work out together (or at least at the same time, as a human is far too weak to do Beel’s workout). They’re not the closest pairing, but both of them like each other nevertheless.

The fact that MC knew the Vesuvian men didn’t quite register in Beel’s brain. Mainly, it didn’t make that much of a difference to him whether MC led two lives or not; he was just happy to be connected with MC. That is, until Julian starts telling him that he should let MC give him a blowjob at least once. The plague doctor doesn’t completely understand that Beel doesn’t feel the need to have MC do that for him. The sixth-born gets plenty of pleasure from MC’s pleasure, and that’s enough for him.

Belphie: MC’s side man. MC was initially hesitant to get close to Belphie after the incident in which he killed (an alternate version of) them, but when they saw that everyone else (minus Beel) was ignoring Belphie’s existence, their pity drove them to have at least one conversation with the Avatar of Sloth. Belphie caught on to MC’s pity pretty quickly during that conversation, but he liked the fact that someone besides his twin gave a shit about him, even if it’s the last person he would have expected to care.

One conversation turned into two, which eventually turned to them meeting in the planetarium at least once a week to look at the stars and talk about all kinds of things. The longer they meet, the more chemistry develops between them; this chemistry culminates one evening when, as MC was talking about an annoying demon in one of their classes, Belphie leans in and kisses them. This leads to a slow, sensuous make-out session that leaves both of them out of breath and a bit dizzy (but in a good way).

Belphie’s sexual nature is subdued but full of passion, and he knows exactly how to make MC melt under his touch pretty much from the get-go. If the walls of the planetarium could talk, it would reveal that MC and Belphie have fucked in just about every corner of the room. Sure, they still talk about life, but a good chuck of their time spent is devoted to sexual activities. One could say that their relationship evolves similarly to that depicted in “Beauty and the Beast”.

Belphie really doesn’t give a shit about MC having another life in Vesuvia, because sometimes it means having extra company (that isn’t Beel). Julian and Asra sometimes join MC and the Avatar of Sloth in the planetarium (99% of the time, it’s to simply talk, but there was an incident when Belphie, Julian, and Asra all took turns making out with MC, which made for a very interesting evening), and Lucio and Belphie’s occasional nap pile finds itself a third member in MC. 

[purpleivy12]

Misunderstandings

Pairing: Romantic Logince, Platonic Logicality, Background Mociet (Can be interpreted as platonic or romantic)

Word Count: 1887

Summary: Logan has been in love with Roman for ages. Roman couldn’t like him back... right? 

Warnings: Cursing, Crying, Fighting, Misunderstandings

Logan had a problem. It was a bit of a big problem too. The issue wasn’t the problem itself, no- Logan loved problems, loved coming up with solutions for them, loved thinking up new ways to solve them, loved being able to come at things from an analytical and logical standpoint to figure it out. But… this problem was more abstract than that…

It was, purely emotional- to put it simply. And of course it had to be the most confusing, strange, convoluted emotion of all. Love. Even saying it made Logan’s head spin. Who would have thought that the one thing that distracted Logan and kept him from working would be- Roman. 

Roman, who Logan once saw his outbursts and fits of passion as annoying, now saw that they were Roman expressing his love for things- going on about the things he cared about, talking about his dreams and what he loved, his eyes lighting up, his voice getting excited. How Logan longed to be the subject of one of those rambles.

Roman, who’s optimism and brightness and joy had once frustrated Logan, now made the corner of his mouth twitch up into a smile whenever he ever thought about it- he saw how Roman’s outlook on life let him be who he was.

Logan saw how Roman put his entire soul, his whole being, into the things that he created, saw how he put his soul into all of his creations, saw how he would stay up until ungodly hours of the morning just to put finishing touches onto a project, making sure that it was perfect, just how he wanted.

Oh, how could Logan ever measure up?

Logan could frequently be found in the memory archives- looking back at Roman, looking at the things he did- his smile, his laugh, him talking about his ideas… and most of the time, Logan would leave happy- would leave with a  smile on his face.

But not today.  Today, Logan felt his throat close up as he looked at the first memory, he felt his eyes sting as he watched- and as he set the memory away he felt tears roll down his cheeks. Because why, why in the world would Roman ever love him? Why would he ever love Logan, who couldn’t even find the courage to tell him how he felt, couldn’t even get out his feelings? Logan, who did his best to try not to show emotion, when Roman did the opposite, displaying how he felt with pride. 

And of course, it was Logan’s luck that Patton happened to be in the archives that day. Patton’s cheery voice could be heard as he walked through the archives.

“Logan? Are you in here? Roman and I were working on something and we wanted help finding the memory of-” but then Patton abruptly cut himself off when he saw Logan, leaning against the bookshelf nearest to him, a hand clapped over his mouth, trying to stop crying and breathe normally. “Logan? What’s wrong?” he asks worriedly, moving closer to the other.

Logan’s eyes widened because, shit- no one was supposed to know that he had feelings or that he could cry.

 “I-I’m quite alright, P-Patton, really.” Logan says shakily, sniffling. Patton doesn’t buy it for a second, and he quickly moves forwards, wrapping Logan in his arms. 

“You clearly aren’t, Lo.” he tells the logical side, wrapping him in his arms. And then Logan is done. He collapses into Patton’s arms and he’s openly sobbing now, too far gone to care about try to stifle his cries. Patton gently shushes him, sinking to the floor, sitting there and holding Logan in his arms. Patton gently rubbed his back, letting Logan cry against him. 

After Logan calms, Patton keeps his arms around him, not moving away from him just yet. “Lo… what got you so upset?” he asks him, his forehead creased in worry. 

“I…” Logan doesn’t know how to answer that. How to say that he was constantly in a state of emotional torment, full of longing for something, someone, that he obviously cannot have. “I love him.” he decides is the best way to start. “And every time I see his smile I want to kiss him until the sun explodes and consumes the Earth- and every time he sings I want to listen to him for hours, and every time his stupid optimism overtakes him it makes me want to shelter him from whatever could possibly dim it. But it… hurts. Because I know that this is one sided, I know that he’d never love me the same. And… this pain… I’m okay with it. Because I’m dull and plain and everything that he isn’t. I’ve decided that this hurt… that’s what love is. Not the glittery fantasies that he wants, and I know I will never be able to give that to him.  And even though he’ll never love me the same, I’ve decided to hold onto this little glimmer of hope that he will.” Logan says, and he takes a breath in, and somewhere during his monologue Logan had started crying- he didn’t know when- but he slips off his glasses, wiping the tears with his sleeve. 

Patton is silent for a long moment, before he speaks softly. 

“Logan- first off, you might want to look into a future in poetry, that was a beautiful monologue- and second, please, don’t take this in the wrong way- you’ve got to be incredibly dense if you believe a single word you just said.” he tells him firmly. “You’re not bland, or boring, or anything else that you said- and if anything else- you two are like the sun and the moon- Roman is the sun, and you are the moon, reflecting back the best parts of him. And sure, you two may technically be opposites- but you compliment each other perfectly- and in the end, you belong together.” he tells him. 

Logan doesn’t believe him. It’s apparent from the look on his face that he doesn’t. “Thank you Patton, for calming me.” he tells him, before he moves to stand, getting up and off of the floor where he and Patton had been sitting, leaving Patton frowning on the floor. “I’m afraid that I’ve used up time supposed to be spent working for… this. I have much to do. Good day.” he bids, before turning to go, leaving Patton on the floor to watch as he went. 

------------

It was a few days after everything had happened- Patton slowly was growing more and more worried about the logical side, and it had gotten to the point where he had decided to enlist Janus’ help- telling him what had happened with Logan, and with his help- the two decided that they would attempt to get the two of them together- as Roman and Logan seemed content to ignore their feelings like one would ignore weird noises in the night in hope that they would go away. 

Over these days- they had tried to force the two to talk about their feelings- to no avail and much to Logan’s annoyance, because he’d rather ignore these feelings until they went away, thank you very much. 

Because of Janus and Patton’s constant trying to get Logan to speak to Roman, it was only natural that Logan constantly had Roman on his mind. It was quite annoying- and while Logan sometimes enjoyed entertaining the thoughts of a relationship with Roman, it was becoming all-consuming to the point where he wouldn’t be able to get any work done, and if Logan hated anything, it was functioning suboptimally. 

It didn’t help that said creative facet had just currently walked straight (or gay, depending on how you look at it), into Logan’s room, causing the other to let out a groan of annoyance, shuting his laptop as Roman flopped down onto the bed. 

“Do you need something, Roman?” Logan asks, his voice coming out a little harsher than he intended for it to. 

“Yeah, actually- I was wondering what was up with you? Did I do something wrong?” he asks, frowning a bit as he looked at Logan, his tone not the best as well- going off of Logan’s. 

“No- you didn’t do anything.” Logan says, his tone clearly dismissive. 

“Oh- really? Because you’ve been glaring at me for a few days now, and avoiding me as well.” he tells him, getting a bit upset with him. Bad enough that Logan didn’t like him- he was ignoring him too- any hope that Roman may have had was now thoroughly squashed. 

“Yeah, like you know what it’s like to be ignored.” Logan mutters, sending a glare Roman’s way. Roman’s mouth opens and closes at that- not sure how to respond, but with-

“What the fuck is your problem!?” he asks, wincing at that, because of course Roman messed this up, of course he insults Logan, shit, he can’t do anything right can he?

“You’re the problem!” Logan shouts suddenly, because Roman /is/ the problem, and the problem is that he can’t just stop thinking about him, whipping around  and looking at Roman, causing Roman to sit up, blinking.

Roman flinches at the shout. …oh. He’s the problem. /He’s/ the /problem/. Because Roman is always nothing more than a problem, isn’t he? Nothing more than an obstacle, constantly in people’s way, constantly in Logan’s way, making it harder to do his job, messing up everything that he had to do. Roman had ignored him, just like Logan had said- and now Logan hated him and Roman would never have a chance- and oh no, Roman was selfish too because here he was, only thinking about how this meant that he didn’t have a chance and- 

“Roman- stop-” Logan says, abruptly breaking Roman out of his thoughts. The room had begun to blur around the edges- everything becoming just a little bit fuzzy- Roman’s spiral affecting the room. “That’s not what I meant I-” 

Roman looks over at Logan. “Then what did you mean?” he asks, confused.

“Damnit- Roman, I’m in love with you!” Logan says, looking over at him. “You- what?” Roman asks, too stunning to even speak properly. He couldn’t believe that Logan- Logan- actually liked him. “You- you’re serious?” he asks.

“Yes! You’re amazing and wonderful and god, you’re practically my entire world at this point but I couldn’t tell you because you wouldn’t like me and holy shit I told you and you don’t like me-” he says, realizing that he’d confessed about ¾ way through his confession. 

“I wouldn’t like you? Logan you’re the one who wouldn’t like me!” Roman tells him, and he gets closer to Logan, moving closer, and gently reaches out a hand, extending it to Logan. 

“You- you like me?” Logan asks hesitantly, and when he gets a nod of confirmation, instead of taking the hand, he leans down, grabbing Roman by the sash and pulling him up for a kiss, crashing their lips together. Roman lets Logan pull him up, absolutely melting into it, his eyes closing as he let Logan lead it- after a moment, the two of them pulling away. 

“Seems we were both wrong, weren’t we Specs?” Roman asks with a little smile. 

“It seems we were.” Logan agrees, before kissing him again. 

[lordsisterxotome]

IkemenVampire boys with an S/o who has bouts of selective mutism? (Some days I’m the most talkative person and then the next I don’t say anything) -Blue anon (feel free to ignore this if it makes you uncomfortable!)

Hey Blue anon!! Sorry for the wait!! A bunch of stuff came up and I wanted to put in the research before I started writing this. Hope it’s accurate! The rest of the boys will be released later, but I wanted to get this out for now.💕

Napoleon:

At first, it alarms him. He’s only seen something similar to this in shell shocked soldiers, unable to shake off the nightmares of the battlefield, so it worries him when he sees a similar behavior reflected in the person he loves.

The first time it happens, MC clams up in the middle of a date out in the city, something she heard or saw while he left for a minute rendering her tongue useless.

At first, Napoleon thinks she’s upset with him, that she’s intentionally not speaking to him, but concern adds to his confusion when he catches her nervous gaze, empty of any hostility or anger.

He quickly deems that asking her what’s wrong isn’t going to get an answer, so he does the first thing that comes to mind to try to help her.

Gently taking her hand, he leads MC to a park he knows nearby, finding a bench secluded amongst the flower bushes lining the path. Removing her from whatever situation made her so uncomfortable in the first place ought to help, he hopes.

Softly, tentatively, he draws her into his lap, into the safety of his embrace. Through touch, he tries to reassure her that everything’s okay, that she can be vulnerable around him.

Napoleon knows how strong she is, how capable, so he’d be lying if he said it didn’t scare him a little to see her like this. He doesn’t know what to do to make it better, doesn’t quite understand what happened to cause it in the first place, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t going to try his hardest to help the person he treasures most.

His hand rubs soothing circles into her back as he presses his lips to her hair and he hopes the contact helps, waiting for her to relax in his arms.

Minutes pass as Napoleon sits there with her in silence, but he’s willing to wait hours until she feels comfortable again. The sound of birds chirping and wind rustling through the trees seems to help a little, the quiet, peaceful sounds of nature coaxing whatever had disconnected in her to right itself, and he can feel her muscles finally loosening.

“Are you okay?” he murmurs, carding his fingers through her hair.

“Yeah,” comes her reply, and he’s both relieved and heartbroken; relieved that she’s speaking again, and heartbroken at how small her voice sounds, how meek.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Snuggling closer, her arms wrap around him as she tucks her head underneath his jaw. “Later. Can we just sit like this for now?”

“Of course,” Napoleon answers, curling around her a little tighter. “Anything for you.”

Mozart

Before he and MC became a couple it confused and annoyed him to no end.

One moment she couldn’t stop talking to him, but when he told her off for bothering him, her jaw would shut, tighter than a steel trap, and he wouldn’t hear another word from her for the rest of the day.

Whenever it happened, Mozart always thought it was because she was childishly avoiding him, his snark having gone a little too far. He didn’t know that each time it was because she physically couldn’t speak, her mutism induced by his sharp tongue.

It bothered him more and more as he fell deeper in love with her. When it occurred, he always became angry with himself for having driven her away, confused that someone as strong and stubborn as her would take his empty complaints so hard.

Still, he didn’t confront her about it, choosing not to pay it too much mind, and he often forgot about it entirely when they bantered back and forth, teasing smiles on both of their faces.

She thawed his frozen heart at an alarming rate, clipping the thorns attached to his words, and it happened less and less as he became more tender with her.

It wasn’t until after they became a couple and he witnessed her turn mute right in front of him one day, that Mozart decided he couldn’t take it anymore, the painful squeezing in his chest too much to bear.

Grabbing her by the shoulders, he presses his forehead to hers, staring deep into her wide eyes as he does.

“What’s wrong with you?” he demands, and immediately bites his lip at the harshness of his words, attempting gentleness as he tries again. “Why do you…? Why does this happen? Where’s that stubbornness that drives me so crazy?” He curses himself internally for fumbling over his words, for letting his mounting anxiety break through his composure. It’s just part of the remarkable power she has over him, to strike such worry and panic into the depths of his soul without a word.

Mozart gets even more frustrated when MC only replies with a blink and a nervous shake of her head, lips remaining closed in an uncomfortable smile.

With a frustrated grunt, he takes her hand and pulls her to the music room, loosening his grip when he realizes how tight he’s clutching her. Sitting her down on the couch, Mozart walks over to his piano and takes a deep breath before looking over at her, his annoyance fading away as he takes in her apologetic expression.

“I’m sorry,” he begins, and her lips part in a surprised ‘o.’ “You deserve someone who won’t make you uncomfortable to the point you won’t even speak to them, but I’m afraid you’re stuck with me. I’m never letting you go, so I want you to know that I’m going to do my best to be the man you deserve.” His smile is tender as he gazes at her, finishing, “I love you and I’m right here whenever you need me.”

And then he plays, music flowing from the keys in gentle rises and falls, until her shoulders relax and her eyelids fall.

She’s wrapped in the sound of his love and devotion long after the last note has faded away into the night, tucked away in her lover’s protective embrace. 

 Leonardo

He knows about her mutism long before she actually tells him about it.

Leonardo’s a clever man and he’s seen, done, and experienced much more than she could ever know, so he’s able to put it together after the first few times it happens.

Even before they became a couple, Leonardo always found his eyes drawn to her, drinking in every part of her existence, so he notices when her voice mysteriously cuts off, lips closing to hide a suddenly still tongue. He notices when her eyes suddenly refuse to meet that of anyone else, desperately looking for an escape route.

It makes him curious at first and a little pissed later when he realizes it only happens in situations where she’s uncomfortable.

Despite his better knowledge of life and it’s inevitable ups and downs, Leonardo never wants her to suffer through any discomfort, especially if it has such a great effect on her.

Her first couple weeks at the mansion, he spends so much time driving her crazy, MC doesn’t have enough time to even think about being uncomfortable, and he’s pleased to see her become more and more comfortable around the mansion. Despite his best efforts though, he can’t protect her from everything, especially her own internal affliction.

He doesn’t know what caused it, and a dangerous part of him stirs in response to whatever did, but when he finds her in the library one day, silent to his calls of her name, he’s powerless but to help her in the only way he can.

She just looks so small, curled up against the arm of one of the brown leather sofas, her expression blank as she flips mindlessly through the pages of a book. MC startles at his entry, opening her mouth, but falters when not a sound comes out, shutting her jaw with a snap.

Scooping her into his arms, Leonardo feels her fingers dig into his coat as he carries her over to one of his favorite napping spots over by the bookshelf. He sinks to the ground, gently placing her between his legs with her back against his chest, and he wishes he could do more, cursing his inability even for all his strength, but all he can do is fill the warm silence with his deep baritone.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs, sinking to the floor against a bookshelf with her in tow. “You don’t have to answer. I’m here.”

The look in her eyes is expectant as she peeks up at him, foreseeing questions, but he only smiles, his gaze soft as he ruffles her hair. “Maybe I just wanted to hold you. Have you thought of that?”

There’s an unspoken question in her expression as she blinks at him, but she sighs and relaxes into his grasp, letting him talk about anything and everything that comes to mind. He talks about the weather, about what he did that day, about even the most insignificant things, and all the while they just sit like that, until she’s finally relaxed enough to laugh at something he says, and he feels like he can breathe again.

[hyucks-archive]

love, my heart.

word count: 5,456

genre: angst

member(s): bestfriend!donghyuck & boyfriend!mark

warning(s): nothing much

author’s note: @haeloce has spoken once more - ask & you shall be given (again)! i really hope it manages to satisfy your craving for angst in someway

“Two?” the cashier asks. Donghyuck nods his head to confirm. The part-timer ushers the both of you to your designated karaoke room, shutting the door as he takes his leave. You immediately plonk yourself down on the couch, resting your head against the backrest. Donghyuck shifts to sit beside you.

“Give me the remote,” you say, reaching a hand out. Donghyuck does as told, placing the remote in your hand. At this point, he doesn’t even need to ask or guess, to know what song you were going to sing. It’s been six months, a whole half of a year, and nothing much has changed. You still spent at least five out of seven nights intoxicated, singing your lungs out at the karaoke room, and Donghyuck has been around every step of the way.

The familiar tune of the beginning of Kim Bum Soo’s I Miss You begins to play. You grab the microphone, tapping on it gently as you wait for the cue to sing.

Donghyuck wouldn’t have thought that you’d be like this back then.

Six months ago.

It’s the fifth week in a row now.

Usually, he’d visit every weekend. It was a routine that the both of you had become accustomed to ever since the beginning of university.

If it were a choice, the both of you would’ve opted to attend the same university. But you both have different interests and aims in life, and so you mutually agreed that you’d support each other, and embrace the distance, for the sake of a better future. Everything has been going well so far. The both of you had managed to survive the first year of university, without drifting apart; you were even able to introduce him into your new friend group. Everything was going so well.

“You’re thinking about Mark again?” Donghyuck asks, claiming the seat beside you. He places his bag down on the ground, before leaning his left cheek on the surface of the table, mirroring your position. You purse your lips, your right cheek numb from having been in this position for a good thirty minutes already.

“I haven’t seen him in five weeks,” you mumble, letting your eyes settle on the Carhartt logo on Donghyuck’s t-shirt.

“Didn’t he tell you that he’s busy?”

“He did. But the most we have gone without seeing each other, is two weeks, never five. And he’s hardly been answering my calls these days,” you sulk, knitting your brows. Donghyuck chuckles, reaching a hand out to ruffle your hair, “Are you trying to say you miss him?” he teases.

“Of course not,” you defend, finally lifting your head up. “I don’t ever miss anybody,” you declare, folding your arms.

“Considering that you’ve been with Mark for three years now, shouldn’t you be more expressive with your feelings?” Donghyuck lifts his head up too, turning his body towards you. You raise a brow, shrugging as you reply, “He’s never complained.”

“It doesn’t mean he’s okay with it,” Donghyuck retorts.

“Whatever,” you say, brushing him off. “I hope he comes by this weekend. Otherwise, it’d mark six weeks of not seeing each other.”

“Why don’t you just go down to his university instead?”

You deadpan, rolling your eyes at Donghyuck.

“Let’s go, I’m hungry,” you say, changing the topic. Donghyuck shakes his head as he picks up his bag, following after you. He takes brisk footsteps, finally catching with you. “You really need to learn to wai-”

Before he’s able to finish his sentence, he sees the way your eyes light up, practically sparkling as your folded arms come loose. “Mark!” you exclaim, running forward. Donghyuck’s eyes follows your movements, briefly making eye contact with your boyfriend. Donghyuck dips his head slightly, acknowledging Mark’s presence. Mark gives a small smile.

You reach a hand out as per usual – it’s just the way that you and Mark have always greeted each other. He’d pull you in for a side hug, press a kiss to your forehead, and rub gentle circles on the small of your back.

But today, all he does, is give a little wave, coupled with a faint smile. Your hand is left hanging in the air awkwardly; Mark doesn’t notice, but Donghyuck definitely notices. Donghyuck raises a brow, his eyes immediately shooting up towards Mark, wondering why he didn’t react to your obvious gesture for a hug. After all, it’s been five weeks. And Donghyuck knows how your relationship works; if anything, Mark has the most dedicated, undying, unconditional love for you. But it doesn’t seem to show through today.

You purse your lips, retracting your hand to prevent from any further embarrassment.

“I’m so glad you finally managed to find time to come,” you say excitedly, bouncing lightly on your feet. Mark’s faint smile doesn’t widen, nor does it disappear. It remains plastered, as though he’s forcing it to stay on his face. Your brows twitch in confusion for a mere millisecond, but you choose to ignore it. Maybe the stress from school has really gotten to him.

“Me too,” he replies, gesturing towards Donghyuck with his chin. “Does your friend want to join us?”

You turn around to take a look at Donghyuck, before turning back to face Mark. “We haven’t seen each other in five weeks,” you say, trusting that Donghyuck would understand. He’s sociable, so he’d definitely have other friends that he can have lunch with. “Let’s just eat together,” you suggest, taking Mark’s hand in yours.

Mark allows you to hold his hand, but it remains limp. He counts to two, then gently pushes your hand off with his thumb. It’s natural, so he hopes you don’t pick it up. But you do.

“Let’s go then,” he says, turning around to lead the way.

You turn back towards Donghyuck, “See you tonight?” you offer.

“See you,” Donghyuck replies, shooing you away. He watches as you scurry forward, linking your arm with Mark’s.

Donghyuck’s gut tells him that something isn’t right.

You’ve been sitting opposite Mark for ten minutes now, and all he’s done, is eat in silence. He hasn’t said a word, which is completely out of character for him. Usually, he’d excitedly ask about your day, your week, what you’ve been up to, etcetera. His eyes would glimmer with interest as you shared your little anecdotes, yet he hasn’t asked you a single question today. It’s been five weeks, you have so much to share. Why isn’t he asking you anything?

Deciding that it only makes sense to ask Mark upfront, you put your cutlery down, pulling your chair toward the table.

“Is something wrong?” you question.

Mark finally looks up at you, his chest visibly moving up and down. It’s his body’s way of telling you he has something to say.

“You know you can talk to me about anything, right?” you affirm, reaching a hand out to hold his, but Mark pulls away too quickly. You feel a light sting in your heart. What exactly is going on?

He places his cutlery down on the table, straightening his back. You’re absolutely confused at this point – did you do something wrong? Why is Mark being so uncharacteristically cold towards you? It’s been five weeks with minimal contact; what could you have possibly done that would’ve upset him like this?

Mark’s eyes shift restlessly, as though he’s searching for the right words to use, and the right sentences that would communicate his thoughts and feelings accurately. He wants to minimise the damage as much as possible, but this conversation that he’s been putting off and avoiding for so long, it has to happen someday. He was already able to take the first step in coming to see you, now all he has to do, is complete the conversation he’s been rehearsing endlessly back in the dormitory.

“Did you miss me?” he starts off, avoiding eye contact. You’re taken aback by his question – Mark was never one to ask you something like this. You’ve always been on the inexpressive side of the spectrum, and Mark knows that very well.

“Why are you asking me that?” you probe, trying to look him in the eyes, but failing miserably.

Mark scoffs, causing you to frown in reaction.

“Have you realised every weekend that goes by, we see each other less and less?” is his next question. You think back upon what has been happening the past few months – from weekly weekends of visits from Mark, it slowly became a fortnightly affair, and then it’d be irregular visits that ranged from anywhere between one to three weeks, and most recently, five weeks between his visits. You have noticed it, definitely. How can you not?

Mark takes your silence as consent, so he goes on with his third question, “Have you ever wondered why that’s happening?”

You ponder for a moment. Have you?

“Babe, what are you talking about?” you let out a breathy, awkward smile. “You were busy, so we couldn’t meet.” At least, that’s what he always told you when the weekend came. He’d tell you that he’s busy for the week, that he has club meetings, or other social gatherings that he didn’t want to miss out on. Sometimes, it’d be because he had to study, or had assignments to do. So naturally, you took these reasons for what they were. Should you have not done that?

“Were you busy?” Mark asks, looking up to meet eyes with you. Your smile that’s telling of how awkward you feel, only widens. “What do you mean?”

With the coldest tone you’ve ever heard from Mark, he states, “Yeah, I was busy. Maybe you were busy for a weekend or two, but not every single weekend that we didn’t meet. On those weekends, you’d go hang out with your friends, or you’d laze around in your studio, watching Netflix.”

You furrow your brows, “What are you trying to say? Are you trying to blame me for the weeks that we didn’t manage to meet?”

Mark sighs, his brows furrowing in annoyance. It’s the first time you’ve ever witnessed such an expression from him.

“That’s the problem,” he says, running a frustrated hand through his hair. “Don’t you get it? In those weeks, instead of just staying in bed, you could’ve travelled to my university to see me.”

“But you said you were busy, so I-”

“Don’t use that as an excuse,” he cuts you off, expression stoic. You feel a second squeeze to your heart. “Name me one time in the past year and a half where you came down to my university.”

You gulp. You’re trying to search your brain for some memory of having done that, but you’re not able to recall anything.

Mark doesn’t show any reaction to this. It’s as though he already expected you to tense up, to not be able to reply him. He continues with his next probe, “Name me one friend that I’ve made ever since I started university.”

You blink a few times, trying your best to recall the name that Mark has mentioned a few times in the passing. “Jacky?” your answer ending in a higher tone, signifying your hesitance and the fact you’re not even sure if it is the correct answer.

“You’re close friends with Lee Donghyuck, born in year 2000, has a birthday in June. He majors in Business Management, and you met him during one of your electives in your first semester.” You open your mouth to say something, but Mark continues with what he has to say. “And yet, you can’t even remember Johnny’s name,” he finishes, coupled with a scoff at the end.

“Do you get it now?” Mark asks.

You swallow, feeling the sting in your nose.

“I accepted things the way they were, even though half the time I wasn’t feeling loved,” Mark continues, successfully managing to pierce a few more needles into your heart. “But I’m not happy anymore, y/n. I don’t think I can ever be, if I remain in this relationship.” The rest were needles, but this time, it’s definitely a knife.

“You came here today to break up with me?” you manage to say, your voice relatively stable, your eyes just barely moist.

Mark smiles bitterly, hanging his head low. “You’re not even going to hold me back?” he asks.

“Why should I?” you respond, immediately regretting what you said. But that’s just who you are; your mouth likes to say the most rude and hurtful things, but your heart has other wants and needs. You always thought Mark understood that. Clearly, you were being idealistic on your own.

Mark scoffs, taking in a deep breath.

“Thank you for the past three years, y/n,” he says, looking you in the eyes one last time.

“Ditto,” you reply, getting up to take your leave.

You can hear the way your phone continues to furiously vibrate on the bedside table, but you don’t have the energy, nor the brain space, to tend to it.

You have your face stuffed into your pillow, the last conversation you had with Mark earlier, playing like a broken record in your head. To be honest, you thought that you’d be bawling your eyes out, or at the very least, you’d be struggling to keep yourself from calling him.

And yet, all you’ve done, is lie in bed, your face stuffed into the pillow, your brain continuously replaying the conversation, but your heart pretty much whole, and your tear ducts practically closed. You don’t understand why you’re reacting like this. This isn’t how break ups should go. You wonder if Mark is okay. He didn’t show any signs of a breakdown earlier.

“Open the door!” you hear the familiar voice of your best friend calling into your room. He begins to knock on the door, refusing to stop until you open up. You groan, dragging yourself off your bed, trudging towards the door. You open it, to be greeted by a panting Donghyuck. “What are you doing here?” you ask, turning to make your way back to your bed.

Donghyuck closes the door, following behind you.

“You said to meet tonight,” he states, eyeing you up and down. He can already tell something’s amiss, but you don’t keep him guessing. You get straight to the point.

“Mark and I broke up,” you say so nonchalantly, that Donghyuck almost doubts his ears. You can tell he wants to ask if you’re sure that the two of you broke up just from the way he has his brows furrowed, with one brow up. “Yes, we really broke up,” you reconfirm, waiting for his reaction.

“I’m sorry,” he says, though he doesn’t fully mean it. 90% of him is upset for you, because even though you didn’t hang it at the side of your lips all the time, he knows how much you love Mark, and vice versa. Still, 10% is happy you’re single again. It’s selfish of him, he knows. But he’s still human after all, and it’s the humanly response to feel this way. It was wrong of him to fall for someone who was attached to begin with, but he justifies it with the fact that he never made any advancements. He was satisfied just being able to be by your side, as a friend.

“Don’t be,” you state, shrugging. “Surprisingly, I’m okay with it. I guess it just worked out for the better.”

There’s a minute of silence between the both of you, so you tilt your head, directing a question at Donghyuck. “Aren’t you going to ask why we broke up?”

He shrugs, “You’d tell me if you want to.”

“He got tired of me,” you say with a smile. Donghyuck knows you’re just pushing yourself.

“Should we get a pizza?” you suggest, grabbing your phone.

“Sure,” Donghyuck replies.

Two weeks later.

Donghyuck frowns, running a hand through his hair as he shuts his eyes, trying to hold in his anger. He takes a second look at you – beer bottles sprawled all over the ground, bags of chips left opened, your tear-stained face, and your lifeless figure that rests in the midst of it all. He lets out a frustrated sigh, bending to grab the bottles and bags of chips to get them out of the way.

Once he’s done with cleaning up the mess, he grabs a wet tissue, kneeling beside you as he delicately cups your cheek. Gently, he wipes away the streams of tears that had dried from whenever you were letting out your emotions.

Donghyuck doesn’t understand why you didn’t just call him.

Swiftly, he lifts your body up bridal-style, setting you down on the bed. He pulls the comforter over your body, tucking you in. He takes a seat on the edge of the bed, reaching a hand out to caress your face, only to leave it hanging mid-air, deciding against it.

He knows you’re suffering because of the break up. He knows there’s so much more to it that you’re not opening up to him about. He knows it’s just in your personality to bottle everything up, to put up a façade that you’re tougher than you really are. He just wishes you didn’t have to pretend around him.

Donghyuck knows the only thing he can do, is be patient, to wait until you’re ready to talk to him.

Five weeks later.

Coming by your room to clean up the mess and to tuck you into bed has become a routine to Donghyuck. As twisted as it might sound, you’re lucky it’s semester break, so whatever you were doing to ruin yourself, it wasn’t affecting your grades.

He takes a seat by your bed, staring at your resting face. You’re breathing calmly, making soft, whimpering noises in your slumber. Are you really hurting that much? The last time Donghyuck had checked up on Mark, he was doing fine. In fact, in Mark’s words, he’s “doing better than he was” when he was in a relationship with you. Donghyuck wanted to punch him when he heard that. But he wasn’t the one in the relationship. He wouldn’t know.

You begin to stir in your sleep, making a groaning noise as you shift in your bed. Donghyuck immediately leans forward.

“Hey,” he calls softly, resting a hand on your arm.

You lift an eyelid, managing to focus on Donghyuck’s face. “Hyuck?” you croak.

“You vomited three times tonight,” he says, “That’s a record.”

You let out a small smile, “Sorry that you have to deal with me in this state,” you say, voice still groggy from your sleep.

“What are friends for?” he replies, reaching for a glass of water. He waits for you to lift yourself up into a sitting position, before passing the glass to you. You take two big gulps.

“Why don’t you ever ask me anything?” you question, your voice soft, barely coming out as a squeak. Donghyuck still catches your question, though. He musters the most encouraging smile he can imagine, “Like I said, you’d tell me if you want to.”

You see the sincerity in Donghyuck’s eyes.

You’re thankful for having him around.

“I have a favour to ask of you,” you say. Donghyuck nods his head, a sign for you to go ahead.

“Bring me to the karaoke joint tomorrow.”

A look of confusion flashes across his face briefly, but he agrees to your request.

“Sure,” he says.

That marked the beginning of the almost-daily karaoke sessions you’d insist on having.

Two months later.

“How about I key in the song for you?” Donghyuck suggests, reaching for the remote. “No!” you insist, reaching both hands out to stop him. “Come on, don’t be stubborn,” you chime, struggling to get the remote out of Donghyuck’s hands. Eventually, he gives in, but not without a disapproving shake of the head.

It’s the tipsiest you’ve ever been in the past two months, and yet, you were still persistent on coming to the karaoke joint to sing your usual song. At least, that was what Donghyuck had thought.

He watches the screen as you key in a different set of numbers today. Instead of your favourite I Miss You, the melodic piano of Damsonegongbang’s Loving With All Your Heart begins to play. He frowns, turning towards you.

You had gotten up, and you are now standing in the middle of the room, swaying unstably from side to side, the microphone secure in the grip of your two hands. As the countdown begins, Donghyuck looks back at the screen, reading the lyrics as you begin to sing the song that you’ve chosen for the night.

“Loving someone with all your heart

How, and what kind of person is able to do that?

I’m so jealous

I’m too scared to get hurt

So I’m only stepping backwards”

Donghyuck looks back towards you. He can see the way your lips are quivering, and the way your eyes are welling with tears. As the melodic piano continues, you close your eyes, and for the first time, Donghyuck witnesses you crying.

He has seen the aftermath of the tear-stained cheeks countless of times, but never the actual process of the crying. Did you pick this song, because of its lyrics? Is this how you’re actually feeling inside?

Donghyuck feels his heart soften at your state.

“When meeting someone

I don’t like getting my heart hurt

So I’m always standing one step behind

Unfortunately

Giving someone your heart

Why is it so hard for me?

Someone like me is also able to be in love

It’s so strange

Loving someone with all your heart

How, and what kind of person is able to do that?

It’s really not easy for me

Just like you did back then

I want that kind of love”

Your voice was beginning to waver, to crack from the emotions. Donghyuck feels the squeeze in his heart – how is he so useless? You were feeling like this the whole time, and yet, he isn’t able to do anything for you, because the sad reality is, he’s not Mark. And he never will be.

You continue on with the last chorus, practically sobbing as you sing,

“Loving someone with all your heart

How, and what kind of person is able to do that?

It’s really not easy for me

Just like you did back then”

Your voice trails off, before you manage out between sobs, “I want that kind of love,” you end off, allowing the emotions to rush out.

Donghyuck gets up from his seat, moving towards you. He grabs your arm, and almost instinctively, you push yourself into his embrace, a tight grasp on the sleeve of his shirt. You allow yourself to sob, to let out all the bottled emotions you’ve been trying to supress. You tell yourself it’s okay, that Donghyuck wouldn’t judge you for being so weak.

Donghyuck runs a soothing hand down your back; feeling the way you’re literally shaking in his arms, and listening to the way you’re crying with so much pain and pent up emotions, he feels himself tearing up.

At the very least, he managed to learn something new about you tonight.

You regret not being able to love Mark with your entire heart, the way he loved you with all of his heart.

“I love you,” you mumble, crying out even harder than before.

Donghyuck wishes it was directed at him.

Three days later.

“No karaoke tonight?” Donghyuck questions, removing his baseball cap to put it on your head, sheltering you from the drizzle of the night sky.

It’s an insignificant gesture, but it’s becoming increasingly significant, as the days go by.

You wish you could remain oblivious to it all, but that’s just your wishful thinking. That can never be the case.

“I wanted to have some hot chocolate for a change,” you reply, stuffing your hands into your pockets. Donghyuck nods his head, “Where to?”

You lead Donghyuck to a quaint little coffee shop that you had discovered a week or two before, when you were roaming the streets aimlessly, revisiting the places that you’ve visited with Mark. That isn’t exactly the healthiest thing to do when you’re trying to get over somebody, but a part of you has come to accept that as much as you’d hate to admit it, Mark Lee was a lot more to you, than you thought he was.

You merely just took him for granted.

“I’m ready,” you say, as Donghyuck places the cup of hot chocolate in front of you. He sits in the lounge chair opposite you, picking up his glass of hot chocolate. “For what?” he asks, taking a sip.

“Mark didn’t break up with me because he got tired of me,” you begin. It’s five months due, but you feel the need to let Donghyuck know. Maybe he’ll understand the underlying intention behind this conversation by the end of it. Donghyuck doesn’t say anything, so you take it as the signal to continue with whatever you had to say.

“After thinking about the conversation we had leading up to the break up for the past few months, I’ve come to realise something,” you smile, genuinely, this time. “I made no effort to go to Mark’s university despite living on a different campus, and I made no effort to ask about his life, or to get to know his friends.”

“Every conversation we had, he was always asking me about my life, my friends, what I was doing, if I was happy. I was always the centre of our conversations. I always talked about myself, but I never realised, that I never asked about him, or let him do the talking.”

Donghyuck raises both brows, but allows you to continue.

“Mark made the effort to travel back and forth between our campuses, just to see me.” There’s an endearing smile tugging at your lips, and Donghyuck sees it, in all its clarity. He can see the amount of love you still have for Mark, just from the way you talk and reminisce about him.

“Now that I look back, and I see his stories on Instagram from time to time, I realise Johnny,” it’s so disgustingly sad that it took you so long just to remember his name, “Is like an actual big brother to Mark. That’s how important Johnny was, and is, to him. Yet, I couldn’t even be bothered to remember his name.”

Donghyuck takes another sip of his hot chocolate.

“If I had made the effort to care about him, to ask about his new life, to meet his friends,” you take a pause, vision dropping to the adidas logo on Donghyuck’s shirt. “Things would’ve probably turned out differently.”

“I took him for granted, and assumed he’d be here for me forever. But look where I am right now,” you laugh, looking back up to meet eyes with Donghyuck.

“Did you tell him that?” he asks.

“I did. I told him I loved him to death, and I still do, very much. He was loyal, and he was amazing. I only want the best for him.”

All Donghyuck picked up was ‘I still do, very much’. Your heart was, and is, still with Mark Lee.

Donghyuck never hoped for much.

But at the very least, he had hoped that he wouldn’t have to deal with heartbreak.

Present.

You put the microphone down on the table, heaving a sigh of relief.

Previously, you were never able to get through the song without ending off with a heavy heart. But now, you feel like you’ve gotten better at it. In fact, you might even be well on the road to getting over Mark. Maybe, just maybe.

You grab a glass of water, downing it in one shot.

Donghyuck notices how you haven’t said much to him today. You had skipped out on three nights of karaoke, and tonight, when you called him, it made him feel excited and fluttery on the inside. It’s silly, he knows. But he didn’t expect to be met with a semi-cold shoulder from you.

“Tonight’s the last night that I’ll be indulging in this lifestyle,” you declare, taking a seat on the other end of the couch.

“You’re no longer going to karaoke?” Donghyuck asks.

You nod your head. “I’m allowing you to reclaim your nightly freedom.”

Donghyuck wants to say something in response to that, but he doesn’t know what to say. It’s not as if he can just tell you that he’d miss being able to hang out with you every night, even though all he did was make sure you get home safe. Still, it allowed his feelings to manifest, and it’s been the best six months he’s ever had. Because he was able to spend every night with you.

“Thank you for the past six months, Donghyuck. I honestly have no idea how I would’ve survived if it weren’t for you,” you say, smiling for the first time tonight. Donghyuck doesn’t like what his brain is interpreting from the situation.

“It’s time for you to pursue other things, Hyuck,” you say, looking at him with the most serious expression.

“You know?” he asks.

You smile, “Well, I’m not stupid.”

Donghyuck doesn’t say anything, so you take it as the sign. It’s better now than never, right?

“I genuinely appreciate you, Hyuck,” you tell him as you pick up your bag, slinging it on your shoulder.

Donghyuck immediately gets up, grabbing your wrist. He doesn’t know what comes over him, but the slew of words just escape his mouth before he’s able to process anything. “I want to be next to you, whatever it takes. Please, know this,” he says, searching your eyes for some form of acknowledgement, or affirmation. He sees the way you look at him, and it’s different from how you’ve always, and still, look at Mark. He always knew he wasn’t a choice. He had just hoped, that maybe, just maybe, he’d have even the littlest bit of a chance.

“I’m always going to be here, ready to take all of your pain and scars,” he says, pulling you a little closer. “I’ll take them all, so you won’t be tired or sad,” he continues. “If you give me half the chance, if you let me be closer to you, I kn-”

“That’s sweet of you, and I know you’ll definitely live up to your words,” you cut in, placing an encouraging hand on his shoulder. “But it should just stay at that. You should just remain by my side, as a best friend.”

Donghyuck isn’t able to just accept this.

“Actually, I can wait. I can wait more than I’ve already waited, just as long as you’re willing to open up, and to come to me,” he tells you, his eyes oozing with sincerity.

You’re lucky. For someone like you, who has never learned what it means to love someone, and to give your heart to someone, you were granted the opportunity to meet two boys, who know exactly how to love with all of their heart. Unfortunately, as sad as it might sound, you’re not worthy of that kind of love. At least, not until you learn how to give, and not just receive.

For some reason, from your gaze, and from your lack of response, Donghyuck feels it in his gut.

It feels like this is the last time.

“You’ll always be my best friend,” you reassure.

Donghyuck is patient, he’s capable of waiting even more than he’s already waited.

But for some reason, it genuinely feels like it’s all coming to an end. That in the realest way possible, this is the last time.

Epilogue: Six years later.

You open up the newspaper, only to see the name ‘Lee Donghyuck’ printed as the headline. Once again, he has made a business move that managed to triple the profit for his company.

Every time you see him pop up on the news, you can’t help but think back to when the both of you were still in university. Why exactly were you so foolish? You really have no idea. Twenty-year old you not only lost the man you loved so much, because you were too young and stupid to realise it before you lost him; but you also lost the only man you loved platonically, because you thought that that was the only possible way you could feel less guilty about not being able to give him a chance.

You close the paper, settling it down on your lap. It’s nice to see that Donghyuck is living a life without any regrets.

You just wish you could say the same for yourself.